#or a very quiet tender moment between the two of them

[ikkyfics]

Colors That Speak

Remus Lupin x f!reader

Summary: “Now it’s my turn.” “What?” You look up, surprised, but he’s already grabbing a blue pen from the table. “It’s not fair if I can’t return the favor.” His tone is mischievous, but the expression in his eyes is so gentle that you can only nod in agreement. When he begins to draw on your arm, something shifts. His touch is gentle, his fingers holding your wrist with a tenderness that makes your heart stumble. He starts with a small star, the line hesitant, but to you, it feels like art.

Warnings: fluffy

A/N: I needed to do something stupidly cute

Masterlist

It’s a lazy afternoon at Hogwarts, the kind where the sun hides behind soft clouds, and the air seems to beg for calm moments. You’re sitting in a quiet corner of the library, your colored pens carefully arranged on the table. Your Muggle aunt’s gift has become your little treasure, and you run your fingers over them with a satisfied smile.

“You really like those pens, don’t you?” Remus is sitting next to you, his voice carrying a lightness that always warms your heart. He gives a sideways smile, his brown eyes watching the scene with an amused gleam.

“I love them,” you admit, holding a pink pen between your fingers. “My aunt gave them to me last Christmas. These things are magical, even without real magic. I love stuff like this.” You feel your cheeks heat up as you realize you’re talking more than you should.

Remus rests his chin on his hand, watching you with a look that seems a little dreamy. “I think that’s... very you. Little, simple things that make your eyes sparkle.”

You lower your gaze, trying to hold back the smile tugging at the corner of your lips. There’s something between you two. Something soft, like the wind passing through leaves, but always present. You feel it in the little things: the way he always sits close to you, the conversations that flow with a comforting ease. And maybe, just maybe, you want it to be more.

Without thinking much, you twirl the pen between your fingers. “Can I try it on you?” The words come out quickly, and you regret them almost instantly, your heart racing.

“Try it on me?” He raises an eyebrow, clearly amused, but there’s no trace of rejection.

“Yeah. I mean... just a doodle. On the arm. Nothing serious.” You’re nervous now, but try to keep your tone casual. He chuckles softly, and the idea that he’s finding you amusing only makes your cheeks burn more.

“Alright. Go ahead.” He extends his arm, the sleeve of his sweater slipping up slightly to reveal his pale forearm, marked with subtle scars that you know well.

Carefully, you draw a cute bow with the pink pen. He watches each of your movements, which only increases your insecurity.

“It’s not that bad,” he comments, a playful smile on his lips. “Now it’s my turn.”

“What?” You look up, surprised, but he’s already grabbing a blue pen from the table.

“It’s not fair if I can’t return the favor.” His tone is mischievous, but the expression in his eyes is so gentle that you can only nod in agreement.

When he begins to draw on your arm, something shifts. His touch is gentle, his fingers holding your wrist with a tenderness that makes your heart stumble. He starts with a small star, the line hesitant, but to you, it feels like art.

“It’s looking nice,” you say, trying to sound casual, but your voice comes out soft. He laughs again, that sound like a ray of sunshine on a cold day.

“Not as nice as yours,” he replies, without looking up.

The world seems to shrink until it’s just the two of you, your arms marked with childish, colorful drawings. When it’s your turn again, you decide to take a risk. With a nervous smile, you sketch a small heart right on his wrist. The red ink seems vibrant against his skin.

Remus looks at the drawing, his honey-brown eyes lingering just a little longer than necessary. When he finally looks up at you, there’s something there. Something that makes your stomach flip with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“A heart, huh?” He gives a sideways smile, and you realize you’re holding your breath.

“It’s just... I thought it would be cute,” you murmur, looking at the pens on the table as if they’ll save you.

He holds your wrist firmly, but still with the same gentleness that makes your chest tighten. “Well, I guess I have to return the favor now, right?”

The words seem to echo in the small space between you, and you feel the warmth of his touch spreading through your body. Remus is close enough for you to notice the little details—the way his eyes sparkle under the soft library light, the slight crinkle at the end of his sweater sleeve, and how the corner of his mouth curves into a restrained smile.

He holds your wrist carefully, his fingers firm yet gentle, as if you were something precious he’s afraid to hurt. Time seems to slow down as he looks at the colorful drawings you made on his arm—the red heart right above his wrist—and you almost feel the light tension in the air, that which is always present when you’re alone together.

Before you can say anything, he tilts his head slightly, taking your arm with him. He moves his thumb lightly over your skin, almost as if he’s considering something, and then, without warning, he leans in and plants a soft kiss right on your wrist.

It’s a brief touch, but the feeling lingers. The warmth of his lips seems to spread through your skin like an electric current, and you freeze, feeling your heart race so fast it echoes in your ears. Your breath catches, and you’re sure your face is completely flushed.

When he lifts his eyes to meet yours again, there’s something different in his gaze. A quiet intensity that makes your stomach flip, as if every thought you tried to suppress is now laid bare in the soft glow of his eyes.

“Reciprocated,” he murmurs, his voice low and almost husky, as if it’s a secret shared only between the two of you.

You try to say something, but the words seem stuck in your throat. Your fingers tremble slightly. It’s almost funny how something so simple—so innocent—can carry so much weight. You feel his eyes on you, watching every movement, every breath.

“Are you okay?” he asks, a hint of concern in his voice, but his smile stays—shy and genuine. “Your heart is beating so fast, I think I can hear it.”

"I-I'm fine!" you reply too quickly, almost choking on the words. His soft laugh is like music, and you feel ridiculously happy that you made him smile.

He slowly lets go of your arm, but you almost wish he wouldn't. Still, the spot where he kissed seems to burn, as though his touch has marked you in a way no marker ever could.

"I didn't know you were so talented with markers," he comments, looking back at the drawings you made on each other, clearly trying to ease the tension hanging in the air.

"Neither did I know you had talent for this," you respond, your voice a little more confident this time, though your heart is still running a marathon.

He tilts his head, feigning a thoughtful expression. "I think you bring out a side of me I didn't even know existed."

It's something simple, but the way he says it makes you feel a different kind of warmth. There's something so genuine about Remus that it sometimes feels overwhelming. He doesn’t need grand gestures to make you feel special; it’s the little things – the way he holds your gaze a second longer, the careful tone in his voice, the smile that always seems reserved just for you.

Silence falls between you again, but this time, it isn’t uncomfortable. It's a kind of silence filled with unspoken things, but understood. You grab another marker and start drawing a simple butterfly on his forearm, each stroke trying to hide how much your hand is shaking.

"A butterfly?" he asks, watching as you work.

"They're cute," you murmur, not looking up.

He chuckles lightly but doesn’t respond. When you finish, he looks at the drawing with a sweet smile that makes your chest tighten. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, he grabs a new marker and begins to draw something on your arm. You watch in silence, feeling every movement of the marker’s tip on your skin, but what really takes your breath away is the touch of his fingers, firm yet delicate, igniting every part of you.

He works with concentration, his forehead slightly furrowed, his tongue almost slipping out from his lips as he draws careful lines on your forearm. Every move seems deliberate, like he’s drawing something that truly matters.

"Can I ask what it is?" you dare, your voice soft, almost fearing to break the moment.

"No," he answers with a mischievous smile. "Not yet."

The air between you is light, but there's something more there, something you can’t name. When he finally pulls back, you look down at what he made.

It’s a sun. Simple and delicate, but full of details that show how much care he put into it. The rays seem to stretch in every direction, made in shades of yellow and orange you didn’t even know were in the set of markers. The center is filled with a soft touch of gold that almost shines under the light.

"A sun?" you ask, your voice almost cracking.

"A sun," he confirms, his eyes locked on yours, and there's something in his tone – something that makes your heart beat faster.

"Why?" you ask, the heat rising in your face before he even answers.

"Because that’s what you are," he says, as natural as breathing. "The way you light up everything around you, even when you don’t realize it. It’s hard not to notice."

Your breath stops for a moment. His words fall on you with an unexpected weight, but not in a bad way. It’s more like a warm blanket on a cold night, something that wraps around you and makes you feel safe.

You try to say something, but all you can do is stare at the drawing and the reflection of his words in your mind. The sun. He thinks you’re a sun.

Remus slowly lets go of your arm, as though hesitating to break the contact, but the warmth of his touch lingers. He grabs another marker and, in an unexpected move, extends his hand to you.

"Now it's your turn," he says, his voice soft but full of expectation.

"My turn?" you ask, surprise clearly showing on your face.

"Yeah," he replies, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to his elbow. "You drew a heart, but... I think it deserves more space, don’t you think?"

The suggestion is so simple and so Remus that you almost laugh. But the idea of drawing something on him makes your heart race again, a mixture of nervousness and excitement. With a slightly trembling hand, you pick a lilac marker.

His eyes are fixed on you as you begin to trace lines on his forearm, the marker gliding over his skin. Despite trying to stay focused on the drawing, you can’t help but notice the details of him – the texture of his skin beneath the marker’s tip, the small freckles that look like a starry map, and how still he is, almost contained, as if this moment is too important to interrupt.

When you’re done, you pull back and look at what you made. It’s a small, delicate lilac flower, with petals curving outward as if opening towards the sun he drew on you.

Remus lowers his gaze to the drawing, a soft smile forming on his lips. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just traces the outline of the flower with his finger, as if he’s committing it to memory.

"You don’t need to say anything," you murmur, feeling the warmth rise in your face.

"No," he finally says, his voice so soft it’s almost a whisper. "But I think I need to."

You raise your eyes to meet his, and what you see on his face makes your heart stop for an instant. There’s something there – something you can’t put into words, but that makes your breathing slow, the world around you fading away.

"It’s beautiful," he continues, his gaze fixed on the drawing. "And... I think it’s the most beautiful thing anyone has ever given me."

The simplicity in his voice disarms you completely. You try to respond, but the words don’t come. Instead, you just smile shyly as he extends his arm, placing the lilac flower beside the sun on your forearm.

"The colors match," he says, a touch of humor in his voice, but there’s something more behind it – something that makes you realize he’s not just talking about the colors.

"Yeah, they do," you agree, your voice almost failing.

The silence between you is filled with something that doesn’t need to be said. He looks at you again, and there’s a glimmer in his eyes that makes you wonder if he feels the same way you do.

When he finally breaks the eye contact, you think the moment is over, but then he speaks, softly:

"I think they’ve always matched."

Your heart skips a beat, but before you can respond, Remus asks, "Can I draw more someday?" The tone almost hesitant, as if the idea of not having another chance is too much to bear.

You smile, feeling your heart melt. "Only if I can draw on you too."

He laughs, and the sound is so genuine that you feel like you can hear happiness in it. "Deal."

[darknessisafriend]

Commodus x reader NSFW Headcanons

Since some of you request it, here's some nsfw hc for our favorite emperor. I tried to write it so you could imagine both female or male reader <3

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

Commodus would get extra cuddly, snuggled against your chest, all soft and quiet. He would remain in the blissful state for a while, simply enjoying feeling your skin against his, your heartbeat slowing down just like your breathing. Often, he would fall asleep almost immediately, he was so sleep deprived that with you he was relaxed enough to finally recover some. If he didn’t fall asleep, he would call for a maid to bring a few snacks and ask for the baths to be ready. Sometimes even carrying you there, so you two could relax your sore muscles/spots; but that would be rare, he was too sleep deprived.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Commodus is a man who, for a long time didn’t really have a favorite body part, it was rather the opposite. He wasn’t that tall for a roman, he had a slight deformity of a shoulder blade, hale lip…that would be until you showed him that these traits made him who he is and was part of his charm. He would grow fond of his hair, thick and curly, soft under your touch, the way you grabbed them when he was between your thighs or the way you caressed them while cuddling. As the body part he prefers with you, it would be your lips, the way you smiled, called his name oh so needily, your tender kisses on his skin.

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

Commodus would love to make you taste him, watch you lick his fingers covered in his seed, your delighted expression. He would be able to moan from the sight itself, then kiss your lips, tasting how bad you were imprinted by him.

He would also enjoy to cum on your belly, he kinda has a breeding kink, anyway he loves the idea of having an heir, children, a family of his own. He would also feel rather blessed that you want this from him, his babies, his blood, whatever woman or man, that wouldn’t stop him from dreaming.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I’ll give you two! He loves to bottom with men, to be handled, pleasured mercilessly. He likes to keep your undergarments, in a pocket, when he is missing your presence romantically or sexually, he would take it out and close his eyes as he inhaled your scent, burying his nose in your panties.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

I don’t think Commodus would be thatexperienced actually. He is the kind of boy to brag about past sexual experiences to feel like he belongs, to blend in with people. But in truth, he is speaking about things he heard or read of. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he is doing, the matter interests him a lot; from the starts he wants to be able to please you the best he can.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Commodus would love it when you ride his face, he would ask it of you almost every time.  He would look at you from below, the way you bit your lower lip as you face fucked him, almost choking him between your thighs, his hands kneading your butt cheeks, humming at your taste, the way your legs trembled as you reached climax.

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

The first times of your relationship Commodus would be rather serious, you are the first to give him true attention, he takes that as seriously as the Empire. But he has that boyish spirit; with time he would get more relaxed, loving to tease you throughout the day, edging you during sex, giggling at your whimpers, your helplessness, loving that sweet torture, he only could give you.  Afterwards he would often joke, loving to tickle you as you cuddled.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Commodus would be very well groomed, first, because he is a roman, they had a thing about body hair. So, he would wax his entire body hair when he is not on the field. His hair can be a bit messy though, but it’s usually because he struggles to fall asleep, so he keeps that sleepy look often, disheveled hair and sleepy eyes.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? Romantic or rough/dirty.)

Depends on the mood. I believe he would be very sweet, desperate; he would be the kind of man able to cry after sex. Of course, when things in his life don’t go so smoothly, he would totally go for angry sex, a way to vent, to let go of boundaries, of the mask he wears all day along. He wouldn’t be patient like he is with the Senate, he would take what he wants, without restraints and make a mess out of you.

J = Jack off (Do they masturbate and how often)

Commodus would not masturbate that often, but it does help him to fall asleep after a tense day. Except when he’s been accumulating lack of sleep, he would lose his libido and stay away from anything sexual and would rather require comfort.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Commodus has a huge praise kink, he is craving approval and being told how good he is doing, what a good boy he is. It would greatly participate in his arousal during love making. Sometimes you would praise his sexual skills, but he would also love when you rewarded him for the good things he did during the day, the way he talked to a politician, or a good decision he took.

Also, he rather loves to be dominated because he lives it like guidance, a way to let go of all his responsibilities, all the pressure and just let someone handle it at his place. He would obey your every request and gladly receive a pat on the head after, or the right to bury between your legs.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Commodus loves taking baths, so naturally he would love to enjoy intimacy with you there. Whenever during the day, he could invite you to join him for a warm or refreshing bath. Servants knew he should remain unbothered when you joined him, they didn’t need to see, your moans would be enough of a proof.

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

When you voice your desires for him, what you like about him, what arouses you about him, the way you look at him. He gets very excited by the pleasure you feel during sex, when you call his name, your soft whimpers, when you tell him that when he does this or that it feels so good.

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

He wouldn’t be into humiliation, any reductive play wouldn’t turn him on; it would trigger his insecurities, remind him of the way his family treated him. Commodus needs to be pampered, feel protected and have his safe bubble where he can be vulnerable.

He wouldn’t enjoy hurting you during BDSM play, even if it makes you feel pleasure he would struggle to find pleasure in it, he is the kind to treat you like fragile porcelain, even if dominant and rough sometimes, he wouldn’t like to flog/spank you and such.  

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

For oral sex, Commodus would love to give, he is the generous type but most of all he is a taster, he couldn’t get enough of your taste, he never wanted to forget it. The Emperor would be very hungry at that, every time you had sex, he would want to give you oral. Naturally, he wouldn’t be shy about it, his tongue licking your slit, burying in your hole while his nose teased your clit. He would be a quick learner, sensing when one thing pleased you more than another.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Both; depends on his mood, though he wouldn’t stay long on slow pace, passion would take over and so the pace would increase, getting passionate, bestial almost. With time of course he would learn to control himself a little so he could please you better. He would find a liking into being slower, taking his time, memorizing your every breaths, moans, your eyes growing watery and your body more desperate.

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

Commodus would quite enjoy quickies. First, because he was a very busy man and often got caught up in his projects without seeing time pass. Having quickies would be a good compromise to have a break and dedicate time to you. It wouldn’t be just about that of course, since marrying you, Commodus would find himself needing you more and more, to part from the harshness of his position and dive back into your tender arms, even if for just a few minutes, it would save his sanity.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? Like to try new things etc.)

Commodus is a man of great curiosity, he would naturally be up to experimenting in bed, and he was very open minded at that so you could suggest pretty much anything, and he would be up to give it a try. He wouldn’t often take the risk though; he finds comfort he things he knows but from times to times he would get excited about an idea enough to want to try it.

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

His stamina isn’t big, he is so touch starved that he doesn’t need much to reach climax but with small breaks he would be up for a few rounds, in fact he would never grow tired of you, he would be so afraid to lose you someday, afraid to forget you in old age…

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Commodus wouldn’t mind integrating toys into your sexual life, once again he would be curious to try them on you or himself, see how it feels, how different it is from a human body. That is also how he would end up asking you to peg him and that would really be a fun extra, to see him beg for you to thrust deeper as he arched his back. On the opposite, if you were a male lover he would ask to try what a female felt like, with some self-made toy or with a third female sexual partner.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

A LOT. When he would discover how a hand brushing on your lower back or your shoulders could give you goosebumps, he would keep testing. Pushing your boundaries more and more by making you sit on his lap to feel his hardened crotch, his hand slithering under your toga to tease your thighs, whispering lustful words in you ear until you begged him to go in his quarters and give you satisfaction. Of course, he would be into edging as well so getting in the bedroom wouldn’t especially mean instant relief, not until you begged him to be merciful.

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

Commodus would actually be pretty loud; he would whimper a lot as if he was suffering but in fact he would be under pure bliss. When he was more desperate it would turn into groans that would be slightly high pitched at the end. His noises would be truly addictive.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

He is bisexual and enjoys experimenting, sometimes he would ask you to peg him, loving when you stimulated his prostate, giving him immense pleasure. He would love also that by doing so, he was completely at your mercy, his pleasure was yours, the pace, the intensity of your thrusts, your hand around his cock, his deliverance. He would be a controversial emperor but he wouldn’t give a damn, his sexual experimentations wouldn’t define the politician he was.

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

Rome doesn’t have great lingerie fashion; it is pretty much simple undergarments or nothing. Now, under those undergarments Commodus is rather normal, waxed, not too big or small according to roman standards. However, he has a great butt like marble ass of David Statue.

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

Rather high, he is very needy of you, for reassurance, to make sure you still desire him, that it is not his imagination tricking him. But it would be also to vent; Commodus has a stressful life, and making love would be the healthiest way for him to get rid of the pressure. You would pretty much make love everyday with, unless he was excessively tired from the day and training.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

tag list:

Commodus would instantly fall asleep; he is just exhausted all day along. It would actually prevent him from overthinking at night, he would just collapse from pure pleasure, nuzzled in your arms.

Thank you for reading and please don't hesitate to leave a comment ❤️

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[writersdrug]

Heyyyyyy!!! So I’m absolutely freaking OBSESSED with your bartender AU… like I’m just eating up everything that’s coming out with itttttt!!! I love your writing so much and I’m honestly so hooked whenever I read your stuff!

I was wondering if I could request something with bartender Simon Riley and it’s where he finds reader crying in the backroom/pantry/stock area of the pub cause it’s been one of *THOSE* days. So he finds her there and sits with her and she just absolutely melts onto him and it’s all very sweet… sorry if this too much info for a request! Again, I absolutely love your work! 🤭🫶

Combining this with a few other asks about reader and Simon having a tender moment + reader having monetary issues

You're rather quiet today - you'd come in and spoken your hello's to everyone, then promptly got to work. Starting on rolling silverware in the far booth, then fifo-ing the pantry and fridge upstairs, then cleaning the bathrooms (you hated cleaning them, which is how Simon first figured out something was wrong). Didn't even reach for the French toast sticks Soap had put under the warmer for everyone. You have an expression plastered to your face as you work. Something between frustration and worry, and it has Price, Johnny, and Simon all on edge. Still, they let you be; it was well-known by now that personal space is sacred to them, and Simon trusts that you'll speak up if you need a shoulder.

Gaz couldn't stay to help drag the kegs upstairs today - something about the Brewmaster being on a trip to Austria, so he was left to watch the brewery. Simon doesn't mind that much. He can easily lift two kegs onto his shoulders and trudge them upstairs to the fridge. He grunts as he moves past the office, careful not to bang the kegs on any corners. Adjusting his grip, he pushes his way into the walk-in fridge-

He sees you, facing the boxes of fruits. "Oh- sorry, luv-" he sets the first keg down, then the second. "Y' need me to reach somethin'?"

You shake your head. Simon furrows his brow, noticing how tense your shoulders are. You're just... standing there. Not reaching for anything, not even looking at the shelves. Just staring at your feet.

You're crying.

All of his duties as a bartender fall to the side. He lets the door fall shut behind him. "Hey, hey... what's goin' on?" he places a hand on your upper back, rubbing his thumb back and forth as he waits for you to turn around. His mind is racing a million miles a minute, trying to imagine what could possibly have you this upset - and what he can do to fix it.

You shake your head, sniffling and trying to control your breaths. "It's nothing, I'm just - just a weird day, y'know? Not sure why I'm crying." You turn to look up at him and muster a smile, though your teary eyes say something else entirely.

He sighs. "C'mon, what's wrong?" He kneels down so that he's looking up at you - something his mom used to do when he felt too overwhelmed to tell her why he was crying. He can't explain it, but it made it easier to let go of whatever was troubling him.

Your lip wobbles, and you cave. Simon holds himself steady as you hug him, his burly arms wrapping around the small of your back. You sob, chest shaking with sharp inhales and sniffles, and Simon closes his eyes and sighs. This is what he wants: to be the lighthouse in your storm, to hold you steady while you began to slip. More than anything, though, he doesn't want you to cry.

He does what he remembers his mother doing. He gently shushes you, heart aching as you fist the back of his shirt and try to compose yourself. He uses one hand to drag an upturned crate behind you, slowly lowering you to sit down. The last thing he wants to do is let go of you, but he needs you to talk. He grabs a bucket and pulls it under him, planting himself in front of you and looking into your eyes.

"Talk to me. What's on your mind, hmm?"

You explain it all through sniffles and sobs: you're mom's recently called and said she wants to visit you. You're embarrassed with yourself, still living in that shitty apartment with your shitty roommate, a marketing degree hanging on your wall that you've never used (believe me, you've tried, but places really aren't hiring). Money isn't tight, but you're not saving - just making enough to exist and occasionally buy the name brand instead of the generic. One thing spirals into another, and you find yourself despairing about how you're never going to be anyone important, you're never going to make a difference - you're not even a cog in the machine. You're just the space between it.

God knows Simon's felt it, too.

"See?" you laugh at yourself, wiping a tear away with your fingers. "It's stupid. I do this every once in a while, right before my period."

Simon grunts. Good to know he can start buying chocolate and leaving it stuffed in the server cabinet. "It's not stupid, luv. You're worried - it's alright."

You cover your eyes, fighting the urge to start sobbing again. "I just... I feel like I'm not doing what I should be doing. I'm not getting anywhere. I thought I was going to be in a corporate office by now, living in a penthouse apartment and travelling wherever I want."

Simon scoffs. "Well, that's just unrealistic."

You huff. "I know. But that's success, isn't it?"

"Is that what you want?"

"Success? I mean... doesn't everyone?"

"Lemme put it this way." Simo leans his elbows on his knees, and you find yourself being drawn in to meet him, arms folded over your stomach.

"I assume you're happy 'ere." he says, looking you in the eyes. "What, with making your silly li'l drinks and swappin' all my shit for somethin' pink, 'n whatnot."

You giggle. "Yeah, I am..."

"Do you want to be happy?"

"I..." you pause. "Yeah, I do. Of course."

"Then aren't you already successful?" he asks. "You're not drownin' in bills - I hope you'd tell me if ya were - and you're happy. Is workin' a stupid corporate job n' livin' above the clouds gonna make it better?"

You looked at his hands, turning over the words in your head. It was stupid. It was the stupidest thing you've ever been worried about - he was completely right. You're happy here. You've never been happier - not in college, not at your data entry job, and definitely not in high school. You laugh, looking down at your own hands. "Yeah, you're... you're right. God, that was stupid-"

"Oi." he says sternly, slapping your knee - you froze, attention fully directed to him now.

"'S not stupid." he says, pointing a finger at you. "Just have to work through this sort of shit."

You watch as he stands and stretches his arms over his head, joints popping and cracking. "Should leave, 'fore we start heating up the fridge." he opens the door, and you quickly stand and follow him on the way out.

"What about the kegs?" you ask, following him down the stairs. "Do you need help bringing those up?"

"Give it time. Let it cool back down in there." He pauses at the bottom of the stairs, hand on the doorknob as he watches you quickly smear away the mascara under your eyes. "You eat anything today?"

You shake your head, fixing the knot on your server apron.

Simon forces his eyes away from your waist. "There's French Toast on the warmer - Soap made it for you. Go take a fifteen."

"But I haven't fini-"

"'M not askin'." he grunts out, pushing through the stairwell door and into the restaurant. He leaves you there to finish collecting yourself, staring after him with a small smile.

If this was you when you had first started working here, you would have thought he was frustrated with you for being so emotional. Now, that's just how you've come to know him. You quickly fix your hair and wipe your face once more, stepping out into the pub. The smell of cinnamon sugar wafts through the air as you make your way towards the kitchen, sparing one last sentimental glance to Simon as he begins setting up his bar.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can I request headcanons for Logan and Wade with shy gn s/o please?

I’m going to assume separate unless told otherwise as poly relationship between Wade/Logan and reader would be cool too, but again unless specified I’m just going to assume it’s separate.

Wade Wilson/ Deadpool

Wade found your shyness adorable but found your reactions to his teasing and flirting.

And he abuses the shit out of that to his hearts content.

Mouse was a nickname that you were given almost immediately from the moment you met as you were quiet and cute as one too that to Wade it just fit you perfectly.

Wade; stop being so fucking cute!

You: huh?

Wade: you heard me! It should be illegal to be as cute as you! You should be locked up for the thing you do to me, but I’d rather keep ahold of the details because half of them might make you faint little mouse.

You: oh. 😶🫣

Wade will make it a tradition to take you by surprise, whether it be by randomly kissing you, hugging you from behind, playfully smacking your ass, it didn’t matter because your tendency to whine his name out in embarrassment ‘waaaaddde!’ Before hiding your face in his chest as he laughs and whispers teasing words into your ear that only makes your flustered state worsen.

Wade didn’t mind that you were shy, he really didn’t as he found it to be one of the many things he loved about you and wanted to protect, he didn’t want you to feel as though you should have to change to better fit him when he was more content with you being you.

He’s never had as much fun nor laughter in his life like he did when he was with you, and Wade considered himself lucky to have someone as soft and sweet as you that he often times thought you’d be better off without a fuck up like him in your life but he’d kept it to himself, disguising it with humour and teasing you instead.

Logan Howlett/ Wolverine

Logan finds you being shy amusing to say the least.

It brought his protective instincts out as someone as soft and shy and softly spoken as you would need him by your side 24/7.

He’s your guard dog, scary dog privilege in the form of a very traumatised man who’s became more familiar with pain and heartbreak than the tender affection and touches you give him.

So you found it best to be patient with Logan and give him time to become familiar with your love and affection until he felt ready to reciprocate in his own way. And Logan appreciated you for that and would let you know his appreciation by planting a soft kiss to your forehead.

Logan is a softy with you and while he’s quick to bite back at other people, with you he’s much softer with his words that they’re practically sweet murmurs whispered within your ear, as he held you against his chest protectively as you both drifted off to sleep.

He more or less acts as your voice whenever you felt discomfort, he’d could easily tell from your bodily language and would immediately step in, and voice your discomfort for you in your stead for Logan knew that you’d rather avoid conflict then delve headfirst into it like him.

However Logan would be the type to try and teach you ways to defend yourself and how to stick up for yourself when he couldn’t, this is probably out of his fear of losing someone dear to his heart again, but he wasn’t about to risk looking you when he could give you the tools to keep yourself safe while he was away.

He gives you his jacket, just make sure that the point gets across that you were his and not theirs, after all he’s a possessive man who doesn’t like sharing what’s his with anyone else.

He didn’t care about anyone else, you were the only thing he gave two shits about alongside Laura Kinney (x 23) other then you two, nothing else mattered to Logan. He just wanted you to be happy for as long as possible.

Side note: he’d love it if you and Laura got along, it’ll mean all the more to him.

[lovemomhatepolice]

cravings - carlos sainz jr.

navigation taglist requests

pairing: carlos sainz jr x fem! reader

warnings: established relationship, pregnancy sex, needy!reader, cursing, p in v, fingering, tits playing, pet names, creampie, English is my second language!

type: smut! with small plot

word count: 2,8k

belonging: NO NUT NOVEMBER

summary: after dinner with his parents, carlos must properly take care of his pregnant fiancée

more content: formula 1 masterlist, carlos sainz masterlist

a/n: I encourage you to give requests in the Christmas marathon! click here :) and my first thousand celebration PLEASE I AM DESPERATE, I HAVE TO WRITE SOMETHING!

Ever since you met Carlos' parents, you've loved them. And they have loved you. You always had a nice time, the conversations never stopped, and your cheeks hurt from laughing.

And so it was today, too - despite your almost seventh month of pregnancy, where your belly was already quite large and your uterus was pushing against your other organs inside, which was damn tiring, you had a good time at dinner with his parents.

“Eat up, darling. You’re eating for two, remember,” Reyes said with a playful wink.

You chuckled softly, but as you tried to make room for even one more bite, you couldn't help but let out a tired sigh. The baby had been particularly active today, and now, after a full meal, the pressure on your ribs and stomach was becoming nearly unbearable.

Carlos leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. “You okay, amor?” he whispered softly, his eyes full of concern.

“Yes, it's just that Ava is giving me a hard time today,” you laughed under your breath, stroking your belly.

Yes, you had a baby girl whose hair on examination was as thick and dark as Carlos'. Even though they had only recently grown into her. And you could have sworn you saw tears in his eye when he saw that on the screen at your gynecologist, too.

Now, as you caressed your belly, Carlos placed a tender hand over yours, feeling Ava’s little movements beneath your skin. "She’s a fighter already, just like her mamá," he murmured with a soft chuckle, his voice filled with admiration.

Carlos's Sr eyes sparkled as he watched the two of you. “Ava is already making sure everyone knows she's a Sainz,” he said with a proud smile.

Reyes reached across the table to squeeze your hand. “I can’t wait to meet her. She’s going to be beautiful, just like her mother.”

“Just say the word, and we’ll leave whenever you want. I’ve got you.” Carlos said to you, whispering.

And with these words Carlos smiled at you and put his hand on your thigh, gently stroking the hem of your dress with his fingers. You immediately became hot for this activity. Your fiancé always managed to make you ready in an instant. And so it was today, too, and all the exhaustion Ava was giving you disappeared.

You shifted slightly in your chair, fighting the urge to press your thighs together as his fingers continued their teasing strokes just beneath the tablecloth, hidden from everyone else. You shot him a warning look, trying to convey that this wasn’t the place, but Carlos, ever the playful one, only smirked, his dark eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Carlos...” you whispered, your voice low and breathless, as if the very air between you crackled with electricity. “Behave"

Carlos merely grinned, leaning back in his chair as if nothing had happened, though his fingers still lingered for just a moment longer before he finally pulled away. The absence of his touch left you feeling almost bereft, but it also sent a silent promise for later, when you would finally be alone.

And although you often had cravings for sweet things, this time you wanted something spicy and hot...

~ The road home was quiet. Your hormones had subsided, and Carlos was no longer going crazy with his fingers. Everything seemed to stop. You were a little tired, but happy. You loved the time with his parents, who were to become your family in the near future. Carlos was also terribly happy - for a while he could forget about his driving duties, the impending end of his Ferrari career and the whole that world.

“Thank you for tonight,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. “I really needed that.”

Carlos glanced at you with that gentle smile that always melted your heart. “Me too, carino,” he replied, his voice hushed, almost reverent. “Being with my parents and especially with you is always amazing"

You just smiled at him and both of you entered the house. Your shared house, where you had not so long ago moved in. It was quiet inside, and the only sound you could hear was the water Carlos turned on for tea. This had been your ritual since you became pregnant - every day you drank tea before bed.

You stood in the doorway for a moment, watching Carlos move around the kitchen with ease.

“Which one do you want today?” he asked, although he knew the answer well. But he asked anyway, in case you changed your answer or wanted to surprise him. “Peppermint,” you muttered, smiling sincerely at him. It was your favorite, especially now that you were pregnant.

When you heard the whistling of the kettle, you turned around and slowly began walking toward your living room. You sat comfortably on the couch, adjusting the cushions under your back, and waited for your fiancé, watching the view outside the window.

Carlos soon joined you, carrying two mugs of steaming tea. He set them on the coffee table and then sat down next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. Instinctively, you leaned into him, resting your head against his chest. A few minutes of longed-for silence passed, when Carlos spoke up.

“Wait here for me,” he muttered, kissing you on the forehead. In the blink of an eye, he disappeared from your field of vision and rushed upstairs, where your bedroom, bathroom and many other rooms were located. As you drank the last sips of your tea, you heard the water in the bathtub begin to run, and Carlos ran down the stairs. He joined you on the couch for another second before he easily lifted you in his arms, obviously being careful not to hurt either you or Ava, and started walking up the stairs. It was as if you weighed nothing.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound light and breathless as Carlos carried you up the stairs with such ease. “You really don’t have to carry me every time, you know,” you teased, even though you secretly loved it. It made you feel cherished, protected.

“You're my queen, you deserve it,” he laughed, kissing you lightly on the neck, tickling with his stubble. “Oh, and you're my Prince Charming,” you laughed, seeing his boyish grin.

"So here I am"

He carried you over to the bathroom, where the sound of water filled the air, gentle and inviting. The bathtub was already nearly full, steam curling up to fog the mirrors, and rose petals floated on the surface, turning the water into a delicate sea of pink and red.

“How did you do it so fast?” you asked as he gently set you down. Your bathroom had never been so beautiful before. Even if it wasn't quite as clean now as it was at first, that was definitely not the point. “I'm fast,” he muttered, placing his large hands on your hips. “Maybe not so fast as to win the championship, but you have your charm.”

You hit him lightly on the shoulder, giggling. Even at a time like this, he was able to laugh at himself. That's exactly what Carlos was - loving, caring for his loved ones. He was the sunshine that was often missed. “You'll win again someday,” you said, standing closer to him and smacking him gently on the lips. “In my eyes, you win every time.”

He helped you out of your dress with such tender care, his hands never lingering too long, though you could feel the heat in his gaze as he admired your body—rounder, softer, growing with the life you were creating together. Once you were undressed, he guided you carefully into the warm bath, making sure you were comfortable before joining you.

As you made yourself comfortable in the tub, Carlos' hands immediately found a place on your belly, gently stroking it. The water around you was pleasantly warm - not as hot as always and not too cold. It was just perfect, surrounding your swollen body as it should. Its scent was unearthly, gently teasing your nostrils, but enjoyably so.

“Does that feel good, mi amor?” he asked softly, his voice barely more than a whisper against your ear.

"Mhm" you mumbled, tilting your head to look at him.

“Ava’s been really active tonight, huh? She must be trying to get your attention,” he teased, his tone filled with wonder as his fingers brushed against a spot where she shifted slightly beneath your skin.

You smiled, covering his hand with yours as you both felt your daughter move. “She definitely takes after her daddy, always wanting to be the center of attention,” you teased back.

“Or after her mommy, who cries out for my attentions every time,” he muttered, looking into your eyes. “Oh, for real?” you asked teasingly, raising your eyebrows.

The atmosphere around you became hot, and it was not due to the warmth of the bath. Or the steam that was rising throughout the bathroom. “Mhm, look how wet you are” he whispered, directing his hand to your clit. You sighed as his fingers touched your tender skin where you needed it most. Your libido during pregnancy was not lower at all. Especially when you saw Carlos as he was now. A wet body that was properly trained, the messy hair you loved so much and softly rosy cheeks from the warmth that surrounded you.

“Carlos,” you groaned, involuntarily tightening around his fingers, which entered you. Carlos moved them rhythmically inside you, his thumb teasing your clit, which had become even more sensitive to his touch during your pregnancy. You couldn't resist it, and especially when his other hand slid down to your hard nipples. He caressed your neck with his lips, alternately placing subtle kisses and bites on it.

“Shh, cariño,” he murmured, his lips grazing the edge of your jawline. “I just want to make you feel good… let me take care of you,” he added, his voice low and husky, filled with that sultry tone that always drove you wild.

You didn't need much. Looking at how sensitive you were, you soon became a moaning mess around his fingers. Carlos knew what he was doing. He hit the perfect spot with them, circling his thumb around your clit, which accelerated your waves of ecstasy even harder. On the other hand, he continued kissing your neck, leaving there the love bites he most likely loved when you were wearing it. His dexterous hands squeezed and stroked your large breasts, which ached more often and harder. And your strained nipples, where milk was being produced.

"Good girl" he muttered against your neck, feeling your orgasm around his fingers.

“Carlos, please,” you muttered, turning your head to him. Your man joined your lips in a passionate kiss, slightly biting your lower lip to give him access to your mouth. Your tongues fought a fierce battle, but you wanted one thing. Without hesitation, you corrected your position on top of him and touching his cock, directed him to your entrance and gently leaned on him, your other hand catching on his neck. “Shh, fuck,” he moaned into your mouth, starting to move inside you.

“Oh,” you moaned, catching his neck more firmly with your right hand. With your other hand you held your breast, squeezing harder than Carlos had done before. Today you didn't want it to be gentle. You felt such a great need to fuck inside you that you were off limits. “Carlos, don't limit yourself,” you muttered into his swollen mouth.

“I don't want to hurt you,” he whispered with caring eyes. His hand wandered to your clit again, even though he knew full well how it would end. Before the pregnancy, you mostly came at similar times, but now you knew that tonight would not just be your second orgasm, but one in a row. “You won't hurt,” you said, grabbing his face tighter and looking straight into his beautiful chocolate eyes. “Just fuck me harder.” There was a hunger in his eyes that you hadn't seen in a long time. The bathroom was getting hotter by the second, even though the water was evaporating faster and faster. Carlos clung harder to your lips, kissing you with the great passion that had been between you from the beginning. You have always wanted each other in the same way, without letting it get any worse - it just kept getting better and better. And as if on cue, Carlos sped up, hitting you with his full length where he was supposed to hit. You moaned into his mouth, and he was not indebted to you. Although he was focused on giving you and himself physical pleasure, all the while he was muttering sweet nothings to you.

“You are so beautiful,” he purred into your mouth. “All swollen with my baby inside your beautiful body, fuck”. You moaned at his words. It was true, of course it was true. You were all sore and swollen, but it was his baby you had inside you. Your longed-for child, the one you had been trying for not so long, but she was the one you had been waiting for.

“Carlos, I'm so close,” you muttered into his mouth, pulling slightly away from him to look between you. Oh, that view was compelling every time. Carlos was going in and out of you with deadly speed, making the tub shake, and you could have sworn that if there had been neighbors around you, they would have definitely heard what was going on with you. “I know, carino, I know,” he said, and his gaze landed on the same spot as yours. By this time, your juices were blending together perfectly, making an unusual mess in the tub. His cum combined with your juices and you could watch it pour out of you.

You have never been bored by this view. It might have seemed strange to someone, but you and Carlos, once you could admire your liquids spilling out of your pussy, were in cloud nine. It was a kind of quiet promise, a moment of privacy and intimacy you shared with no one else.

"I love you so so much" he muttered, kissing you now lightly.

He continued to move inside you, but this time only so you could come down from your orgasm, just as he did. Your pussy clamped down on him, pleasantly enveloping him with its tightness. You both loved the feeling - you then finally felt as full as possible, and Carlos felt that he had found his place. However silly it sounded. You guys loved it.

When you cooled down and the water became unpleasantly cool, you decided to get out of the tub. Carlos did it first, so that he could safely help you. He carefully wrapped you in a soft, fluffy towel, his hands remaining on your wet skin, warm and soothing as he gently dried your shoulders and then your hands. His touch was slow, deliberate, as if he was savoring your touch, making sure every inch of you was taken care of.

You stood in front of the mirror, your reflection soft in the dim light, your body round with Ava, the little life growing inside of you. Carlos moved behind you, his chest brushing against your back as he gently ran his hands over your shoulders, his touch lingering with care.

He leaned in, his lips grazing your ear. “You are beautiful,” he purred, kissing the lobe of your ear. “I can't wait for Ava to get here and see it too.” You smiled with emotion at his words and turned to face him, placing your hands on his cheeks. You stood on your toes, gently kissing him on the lips. You felt him smile under the pressure of your lips, which you shared. “She will be even more beautiful. After all, her father is Carlos Sainz Jr, the fucking Prince Charming of Formula One.”

A/N: how I love pregnancy content!! AND CARLOS, OMG, my favorite driver, and I only have one one-shot with him, what's a shame (open orders, feel free to give ideas!)

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Happy New Year.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - may 2025, bring everyone joy and happiness. 🎆🎇, here’s a little something from me to you.

word count - 700.

in which, this new years is the most different one that you and harry have ever spent together, instead of going out to a party, your both cuddled up on the sofa with your newborn fast asleep on there daddies chest.

The living room is quiet except for the soft hum of the television in the corner, where the countdown to midnight ticks away.

The lights are dim, and the Christmas tree in the corner still twinkles faintly, a reminder of how much life has changed in the past two weeks.

Harry sits on the couch, his chest bare, his hair tousled in that effortlessly messy way that makes your heart flutter.

Your baby boy is fast asleep on his chest, his tiny body rising and falling with Harry’s steady breaths.

A soft muslin cloth is draped over Harry’s shoulder—evidence of a just-in-case burp that never came.

You’re curled up beside him, your legs tucked beneath you, watching them both with a soft smile.

"Ten seconds," you whisper, glancing at the screen, the numbers counting down the last moments of 2024.

"Still feels weird, doesn't it?" Harry murmurs, his voice hushed, careful not to wake the baby. His fingers gently stroke the baby’s back, his touch so tender it makes your chest ache. "Not being out f’once, I don’t think we’ve ever stayed in f’new years eve."

You smile, reaching over to run your fingers through his curls. "I don’t think I’d rather be anywhere but here, with you, with him."

Harry looks down at the baby, his lips curving into the softest smile you’ve ever seen. "Neither can I.”

‘Eight…’

"Do you think he’ll be the kind of kid who loves fireworks?" you ask, tilting your head to watch Harry’s expression.

He shrugs, his dimples peeking out as he grins. "Depends. F’he’s like me, probably not. I was always the kid hiding under the kitchen table when they went off."

‘Seven…’

You laugh softly, leaning your head against his shoulder. "Not me. I loved them. Always wanted to be out in the middle of it all."

Harry tilts his head to rest against yours. "Maybe he’ll take after y’then. Brave little thing."

‘Six…’

The baby stirs slightly, his tiny hand flexing against Harry’s chest, and you both freeze. But he settles again, his soft breaths steady and warm.

"See? Told y’he was brave," Harry whispers, his eyes never leaving the baby.

‘Five…’

You reach out and trace the curve of your son’s cheek, marveling again at how perfect he is. "Can you believe we made him? Like... he’s real."

Harry chuckles softly, his laugh vibrating through the baby’s tiny body. "I know. I keep thinking someone’s gonna knock on the door and tell us s’been a mistake. Like, 'Sorry, y’not allowed to keep him—y’just two kids pretending t’be grown-ups.'"

‘Four…’

"Speak for yourself," you tease. "I’m very mature, thank you."

He raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, really? Is that why you cried over the last chocolate biscuit yesterday?"

‘Three…’

"That was different," you huff, nudging him gently. "I’m postpartum. I’m allowed to cry over biscuits."

"Fair enough," he concedes, leaning over to kiss the top of your head.

‘Two…’

You both fall quiet, the weight of the moment settling over you.

The new year is seconds away, and for the first time, it doesn’t feel like something you’re rushing toward.

It feels... still.

Peaceful.

Like everything you’ve ever wanted is right here in this room.

‘One…’

Harry looks at you then, his green eyes warm and full of love.

"Happy New Year, m’love."

"Happy New Year," you whisper back, your voice catching slightly.

The television erupts into cheers and fireworks, but it feels distant. Harry leans in, kissing you softly, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek.

The baby snores softly between you, oblivious to the world.

When you pull back, Harry grins. "Best New Year’s ever."

You nod, leaning against him and resting your hand over the baby’s back. "And it’s only just beginning."

[affableramen]

how they cup your cheeks

fluff, established relationship (pantalone and dottore are angst)

Pantalone

Dominantly grips your chin which causes you to flinch in slight disgust. No one asked him to grab you so roughly. Pantalone gives you a condescending look as if you were but a lowly ant to him before his looks shifts from egomaniacal into something soft and tender. His grip loosens in your chin and he gently cups your cheek from the both sides, looking deeply into your eyes with tad of regret.

Pantalone, then, rubs his thumb over your cheek, a perplexed “oh” escapes his lips when you pull his palm to your mouth and kiss it gingerly. He breathes in and out, hardly believing someone could ever be so forgiving, so patient and kind with him.

Wriothesley

He is much taller than you so he needs to slightly lean to you in order to lovingly cup your cheeks. He likes those sincere, private moments between you too when Wriothesley can do nothing improper and be quite chaste with you. He loves being with you innocently, too. His big calloused hands bring your face closer to his as he rubs his thumb across your face with utmost serenity. You do not expect that from an ex-inmate, but the duke is nothing but a loving puppy when he is around you.

It’s quite tough with the specifics of your job to find quiet moments like this with him, that’s why Wriothesley keep them close to his heart. The both of you are tired enough to bicker too much at some point, so if there is any misunderstanding between you two he would apologise with a lightweight touch against your cheek.

Neuvillette

The judge loves cupping your cheeks. He is a very quiet and serene man by nature so he will never do anything very rapidly, he’d never allow himself to touch you in a way he finds improper, especially without your consent. However be it a touch against your hand with his finger gently or cupping your cheeks when he passes by, he will do it, most gallantly.

When Neuvillette cups your cheeks he always gives you a tiny smile, even his eyes seem to be laughing for you. You smile back to him and place your hand on top of his gloved one, leaning onto his palm. It’s a regular occurance for him to also kiss your forehead after cupping your slightly blushed face. There is a tad bit of greediness on your face, as you seem to not get enough of Neuvillette’s caring hands.

Tartaglia

Ajax cups your face mostly in a humorous way, not romantic, unless you ask him specifically for that. He likes playing with your curls and pinching your cheek. He’d laugh at your surprised and slightly bashful reaction. He is very open with expressing his affection and attachment to you and never skips a single possibility to show it to you in the most obvious way possible.

When Tartaglia cups your cheeks you jump at the unexpectancy mostly, but his touch undeniably feels like home. Looking into his ocean-blue eyes you smile and attempt you cup his face back too.

Capitano

Capitano doesn’t often show his affection openly for he has very ancient manners and understanding of affection, as well as his stiff, restrained personality not allowing him to do so. It’s common knowledge that he would even speak words of affection quite rarely, but what makes him so attractive and your beloved man is not his words.

His actions mostly. Because no matter how stiff he is he will still come to you after a tiresome day and kiss you in the forehead. After delivering a cute kiss to your forehead he will sit close to you and just hold your face for a long while, simply listening to your heartbeat and go about questions like “how was your day? is your health well?” etc.

Alhaitham

Alhaitham’s touches consist of sly diffidence and bashfulness, for he is a convinced introvert. Although you cannot deny that he touches you very gingerly. In the pale moonlight he will place your hand to the sight of your face, for you to lean on it and gaze into his eyes with affection and feeling he had never known before. He considers himself lucky to be the object of your love.

His face remains solemn and serious, the scholar’s eyes remain wise and his whole composure almost unnoticeably morphs into the more relaxed one as you let him touch your face gingerly and carefully. The quiet night breeze enters through the window, the coolness of it brings Alhaitham’s light, herbal-like cologne into light. You find yourself attracted to this tiny smell of his and shut your eyes, enjoying the sense of tranquility, while the scholar’s hand still cups your cheek.

Dottore

Dottore is not exactly touchy-feely but when he is feeling frustrated or either irritated it will in most occasions end up in seeking comfort from you. Even if he inevitably offends you with his words or movements that are too much, he will fix whatever the mess he has done.

Gripping your chin in his fingers Dottore looks at you judgementally. He cannot believe how a tiny thing like you would case him so much trouble. But he finds himself smitten, drawn to you. Crawling back to you in the hopes of seeking comfort. You say that his grip is painful and he should not project his anger issues onto you, and Dottore immediately drops you with a horrified expression. He was not even aware of the term “projecting” before. Carefully he places his hand back to your face but this time without gripping your chin forcefully. His fingers gently graze over your cheek with quiet “I’m sorry, doll”.

Dainsleif

Most of the times you are the one who cups his cheek so Dainsleif would like to return the favour one day, and he does it successfully.

When you cup his cheeks you do it playfully and with a smug smirk on your face, coz your boyfriend has a consistent ominous expression with which you have been used to living for quite a while. He is not exactly above depressed and menacing, but Dainsleif also has his soft spot and you were dying to find them. Gentle, innocent touch did him justice and Dain returns it to you with no less kindliness as you have given him before. His blue eyes gaze at you seriously and gloomily, but you certainly know what the love looks like. It may not be in his face, but in the movement of his hand, in the gentleness of his touch, undoubtedly.

Baizhu

Baizhu is a sly person who is also very emotionally intelligent and distrusting to many people. However with you he feels himself burning with strong feelings considerably. You love when he touches your face, because of how gentle his fingers, despite of having been in so many dangers, are. They are thin and elegant; and nothing about them can make you unhappy.

Baizhu gently cups your cheek, pressing his face close to yours so your noses touch. The action is very personal and intimate. You try to slowly move your hands through his emerald hair, but so lightweightly so it does not rob you of the precious moment. Baizhu hums in respond, saying the words of comfort to you and asking if your day has been well or if you want to share something, anything - he’ll be there for you. You can tell him absolutely anything, he persuades.

[dreamingcricket]

politely requesting either halsin or astarion with a tav/reader who like..shrugs off their advances bc they don’t think someone like either of them would take interest in them. like very oblivious to the fact that people actually like them. (totally not self indulgent lmao) ((i love mutual pining to lovers i-))

CW: Mild sexual content, reader is injured

Astarion has started to question whether this is your way of gently rebuffing him, or you're actually this dense.

He's not a subtle flirt. He uses all his most seasoned tricks, exhausts every overture he can think of. He can't remember wanting anyone this much. And yet, every one of his suggestive quips is laughed off.

He's there in the morning, sliding in beside you as you drink your tea. "Good morning, beautiful. You're looking absolutely radiant today." He runs a finger down your arm. When you blush and smile back, something warms in the pit of his stomach.

He's there as you put on your armour. "Allow me, dove." And as he tightens the straps on your mantle, he lets his fingers brush the underside of your jaw. "There. Just right." He purrs into your ear.

And of course, when he feeds. He takes his time, pulling you close, cradling your head, running his fingers through your hair. He nuzzles into your neck before he bites, pressing his lips against your rabbiting pulse for just a moment longer than he should.

Even in battle, when he's swiftly at your back, flashing you brilliant smiles as he races to your defense, you jovially thank him, like you do all your companions. Like he's your friend. Just your friend.

All efforts so far, completely ignored.

So now he watches you from across camp, the firelight dancing across your features as you laugh (he tries to ignore the tender stirring in his chest at the sound).

He throws back his glass of wine, and grimaces at the pitying glances of his compatriots. Of course it was obvious to anyone except you.

You stood, bid Wyll and Karlach goodnight, but instead of disappearing into your tent, you vanished into the brush.

Astarion sat for a long moment. He should let you go. You clearly weren't interested, and he should just... move on. Like he always had.

Who are you kidding, you fool?

He didn't care that he startled Gale with his speed and he pursued you into the woods.

You were seated on a rock, your face turned up toward a shaft of moonlight, eyes closed. He stopped to admire you.

"Sorry I took off. I just wanted to enjoy the quiet."

"I'll go, if you want me to."

You start, and turn towards his voice. "Astarion, didn't expect you."

"Were you expecting someone?"

"No... just-

He's suddenly surging forward without thought, and the two of you are rolling across the grass.

"Astarion, what the fu-"

He silences you with a burning kiss, brimming with anger and desperation. You roll him onto his back, furiously returning his advance. "What-" you pant between kisses. "-took you so long, idiot."

He's furiously tugging at your linen shirt, baring your back and shoulders. You'd be angry if you weren't still reeling.

"You never flirted back!" He pins you down, only to find his hips locked between your legs.

"I flirt constantly, Astarion! You drink my blood every night! I've been waiting for you to take the next step for weeks!" Now it's you tearing at his shirt, your hands groping for purchase on his shoulders. "I thought you didn't think of me like that." Now it's your lips against his neck, and he chokes on a moan.

"That's not flirting!" He's never been this heated during sex. He's a collected lover, and for all the inherent violence of his existence, he realizes - he wants to be gentle. At least this time.

He takes your hands in his and stills your thrashing. You lock eyes, both of you out of breath, chests heaving. He places a single, gentle kiss to the palm of your hand. "Shall we begin again, love?"

"I'd like that."

"My name's Astarion. You are a truly stunning creature," he leans down, and whispers to you, "... and I'd very much like to make love to you tonight."

Halsin thinks you are quite possibly the most extraordinary person he's ever met.

 

He can't erase the image of you the first time he saw you from his mind, eyes ablaze, arcane power crackling at your fingertips. 

He's had so many partners, but all of his love affairs were brief, transient. Deep, but nothing had ever moved him like this. Typically, Halsin is straightforward with his feelings. His passing dalliances with fellow druids and traveling rangers had never daunted him. But with you, making his feelings known was... complicated.

You'd been through a significant trauma, and while you put on a quite the brave face, ever the intrepid leader, he's been around long enough to see your fragility. You'd seen so many horrors in such a short amount of time. Emotions were running high, he wouldn't risk coming on too strong.

So instead... he brought you gifts. It was a very natural way to court someone, at least. Baskets of berries, a fresh catch from the river, perhaps they're gifts to his own taste, but he hopes you'll enjoy them.

He offered to braid your hair, to help ease the tension in your shoulders with a massage in the evenings (his hands are absolutely enormous, which certainly helps). 

And, unbeknownst to the rest of the camp, and to his mild shame, he couldn't help but rub his scent near your tent. He wouldn't invade your boundaries and touch your things, but he couldn't help his instincts. Lae'zel noticed at last, but only scoffed and offhandedly remarked, "The way you dance around your affections is pathetic. Tell them, or stop simpering."

Things eventually came to a head when you were injured, badly. The arrow tore through your side, and you hit the ground before you could register you'd been shot, the world became pain and a blur of color and noise. 

Halsin was by your side in a heartbeat, shielding you with his frame as spells and arrows flew overhead.

"Don't move little one, you're losing blood." He sounded calm, but there was a tremor in his voice. You'd never seen him afraid before.

"Halsin..."

"Shh, shh. Hold still." His magic flows through you, and the muscles in your side knit back together as he pulls the arrow free.

"Halsin." Your hand lifted to weakly brush his cheek. Your vision was swimming. 

The thunderous roar of battle magic echoed nearby. Gale rushed towards you. "Are they alright?"

"They will be." Halsin spoke it like an oath. "But they're weak." 

"We'll finish this, get them to safety!"

Halsin cradled your body to his chest and barreled off the battlefield. You drifted in and out of consciousness, but were always aware of his arms around you. They felt like safety. Like home.

The druid ducks behind a half destroyed wall, and begins to reassess your wound. "Gods, you frightened me." He lays you down carefully, head in his lap, and begins to clean the wound. 

You smile up at him. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

"I like this."

He's puzzled. "Being horribly injured?"

"Being held by you." 

At that moment, your body finally gave out, and your vision went black. 

When you woke, bandaged and sore, in your tent, Halsin was sitting by your bedroll with his back to you. Recalling in horror the confession you'd made, you try to pretend you were still asleep. 

"I know you're awake, little one." 

You sigh. "I'm... about what I said, I'm sorry. I know you don't feel that way, and-" 

"Stop." He turned and placed a finger against your lips. "No more words." 

You braced for his rejection. At least the druid was kind, empathetic. Or perhaps his pity would make it worse. 

His lips coming down on yours were not what you expected. He was gentle, and smelled of moss and pretrichor, dark soil and sweat. You kissed him back, laughing into his mouth. 

He pulls away, then presses his forehead to yours. "I'm here. As long as you'll have me." 

"Oh, I intend to." Your attempt to sit up is hampered by a shock of pain from your wound. "Ow. Shit."

Halsin guides you back down to your pillows. "All in good time, little one."

[simp-ly-writes]

Hate the Love That Drives Ambition

─────── · · An Arcane FanFic

Pairing: Father!Silco x Mother!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: You thought Silco had tried to kill you, running away to topside you find yourself to be pregnant but what happens when one day Silco appears back at your doorstep?

─ · · TAGS: female pronouns used, reader called 'mom/mother,' angst, fluff? maybe? just a little bit..., one mention of pregnancy, no happily ever after, very bad miscommunication, not beta read.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,208 | PART TWO

─ · · A/N: I'm sorry but i'm obsessed with writing Silco angst rn.

─────── · ·

18 years. It had been eighteen years since you had last seen Silco... since he wanted you dead. You thought that your decades long relationship was something concrete but the man obviously thought otherwise when he began tearing the Undercity apart to rebuild anew in his vision.

You always admired his drive, his charisma, his outstanding confidence. He always knew how to make something happen and just the right words to either piss you off and smile at your rage or pick you up by your pieces.

Silco always had some witty and snarky comment for you- coated in a tender compliment that made your cheeks heat up. You remember sitting with him in bed during the few quiet mornings you both shared and fondly looked back upon.

Those moments when his chest was to your back. An arm dangling in your lap as you played with the fingers of his hand and the light jewellery he worse. A cigar would be lit in his other, tapping it outside the window that your bed was positioned alongside.

You hated that part of you that missed those tender and quiet moments when you remember that barrel being pointed between your eyes and the various cuts upon your skin.

You remember that night as if reliving the moment entirely. The cold breeze drifting down the alleyway, catching and rattling your bones like your rapidly beating heart. Your eyes were full of tears, your head cloudy with a distant ache.

Silcos henchmen chased after you for what felt like miles before you were being cornered above a sewer grate, the steam rising above it blurring all the actions that held you overwhelmed with pain before gunshots ran through your ears and you finally felt numb.

Arms picked you up, you remember that distantly brilliant blue you did everything to escape yet when those strong arms wrapped around your torso- another supporting your head... you were disgusted to admit that you were thankful for their presence that day in the Undercity... and that would be the last you saw of it.

─────── · ·

You got a job, some cleaning job in the Academy. It was a nice gig, dusting the bookshelves and mopping the marble floors until they glimmered under the sun- the sun that now warmed your skin like Silco used to- no. I musn't think of him, you reminder yourself.

You loved seeing all these young individuals running around the campus with their brilliant inventions and minds. You hated how many times you thought to see that young Silco you had grown up within them all... but as it turned out, you wouldn't be far from seeing him on the daily.

You were pregnant and the only person you had been remotely romantic with was Silco... you couldn't find it in yourself to be with anyone else just yet as his voice still haunted your dreams, the thought of his presence making your heart equally yearn and hurt.

You had a son, Rhyker, and he looked exactly like his father yet held your eyes and smile. He helped you to heal that part of you that was missing from the Undercity and as you both aged, he made Piltover feel like a new home, a new future you were finally accepting.

Rhyker was equally as brilliant as well, loving the scrap items you collected and brought home that he tinkered with inside his room. And every time he was finished, he would run out to show you his latest invention.

At the start like any good parent you smiled at his drawings and listened to his ideas and acted amazed at his creations. But going forwards into his teenage years, Rhy was truly showing a knack for tinkering as his blueprints became more complex and his creations helping you around the home.

Your son adored you, watched you work yourself to the bone that he studied hard in school with a hope of making it into the Academy- of creating something that would change the world and make it a better one for you and him. Yet couldn't help but wonder about his father.

Rhy knew he was from the Undercity, a comment you let slip when half asleep one night while cooking dinner. Yet anytime he would ever bring a even a mention of him up, you would tense, gripping whatever was in your hand until your knuckles turned white before smiling calmly. It was at these times your son was ever scared of you... of what his father must have done to someone as kind as you to illicit such a reaction but he couldn't help but dig when he gained the opportunity to.

─────── · ·

Rhyker made it into the Academy and you couldn't have been prouder while reading the acceptance letter over and over again before crying into his shoulder.

That first week he was in the library looking up all articles and databases related to the Undercity- determined to discover who his father was but unknowing that someone was already looking back at him as well.

A thousand faces passed through his eyes as he numbered down with what little evidence you gave him to about fifty people. Tall, slender, brown hair, and holding just enough power to remove someone like they did to you...

He printed out these faces and basic documentation, pasting them into his journal alongside his blueprints. He failed to realize just how late at night it was inside the library as he was the only one left in the building... or he thought so.

The flicker of a lighter, the soft glow of an amber light out of the corner of his eye had his chair screeching against the tiles as he felt for his pair of scissors and gripped them tightly in his hand.

A cold breeze drifted through the large hall echoed the sigh, carrying it through the room. "Any faces appear remarkably similar?" a deep voice says, their face still unseen. Rhykers breath hitched in their throat, hand beginning to shake as their head swung side to side, trying to identify where this voice was coming from through the shadows of night.

"Who are you?" Rhyker asked, a small part of his brain nudging with an answer. "I think you already know that, you just don't want to admit it to yourself. And here I was thinking that my son would live up to his name... or am I mislead?" the voice asks. He can hear his footsteps moving around in the shadows, the outline of a leather boot shining in the moonlight.

"You are not my father. You couldn't be- I mean. Mom would never be with some... some-thing, some monster like you are in the first place!" Rhyker yells to only hear a ghostly chuckle before Silco steps into the moonlight, head tilted high, chin raised to cover his shifting expression once seeing your eyes looking back into his own.

Silco can't help but pick up every feature of his son that looks like you starring daggers through him. "You really do look a lot like her, how is your mother doing?" Silco asks calmly, taking another drag of his cigar.

"Wouldn't you like to know?" Rhyker responds childishly before picking up his items from the desk. "I ask with honesty for the answer," Silco replies, head lowering as he observes the various drawings and gear-sets with intrigue.

"Well, if you could already know I'm here whats stoping you from seeing my mother?" Rhy poses back, failing to look up and catch the furrowed brow on Silco's features.

"I know that she would not want to see me... even if I do want to see her-"

"After everything you did!" Rhyker slams his books atop the table before pointing the blades at his fathers chest, "You say you still want to see her? To what? Try and kill her again- like fuck am I allowing you to do that, father or not!"

"I never tried to kill your mother, a mere... misunderstanding..." Silco tries to find his most comforting tone yet it appears cold and distant in the ears of Rhyker who's eyes scream murder.

"A 'mere-misunderstanding' that almost cost her, her life! I regret trying to find who you were, I understand that my mother was only trying to protect me from the monster that you are. Selling all of those drugs to the needy to what? Make yourself rich? Have another woman wet your-"

"ENOUGH!" Silco raises his tone, a chill running down Rhykers spine as his father walks up to him, blade pressing into his vest, pointing at his heart yet showing no discomfort but only a cold anger. "I loved. love your mother. I wouldn't have done all the things I've done without her. Things would have been different if I caught on minutes faster before I thought her gone for good..." Silco explains before taking a step back to take a drag from his cigar, looking out at a sleepy Piltover.

"So if you magically saved her, you would have been a better man? Like I believe that you would abandon your ambition for love," Rhyker retorts, arms now crossed as he watches his fathers back rise and fall with the deep breaths he calms himself with.

"You and I are not so different in that aspect. We drive our ambition from love... it only takes the right pair of lenses to see it. I tried to build a combined city but to many that don't understand the darkness- I look to be the devil and they wouldn't be far off..."

─────── · ·

You were worried sick back at the apartment. Not a single message or knock on the door from one of Rhykers friends to tell you he would not be home tonight. You paced rapidly around the kitchen, wondering to take to the streets yourself or to call a patrol out to find your son.

But the sudden rattling of keys and a soft swear as they fell to the floor had you rushing to open the door, arms flinging around to home him as you cried in thankfulness for his safe return. Yet the returning hug was slow to come by and the hands that gripped your waist tight felt distant but familiar.

Opening your eyes in shock to see your son looking at you back in the eyes. You tense in the mans arms that currently enveloped you- smelling whiskey, smoke, and the faintest scent of citrus aftershave. Their vest hiding a muscled back that your hand fall from- frozen.

You try and wiggle yourself free from their touch, tears finding your eyes once more as your struggle out with a cry but Silco only holds you. You can feel his hands shaking as he rests his head above your own. But with one last shove to his chest, you release yourself, stumbling backwards and back into your apartment.

You swiftly regain your footing, walking backwards, hands shaking as you do your best to yells threats while holding up a letter opener. "I now remember where you get the obsession with blades from, son," Silco comments with a chuckle that has your heart pounding in your chest.

"Back the fuck away from my son!" you yell, other hand ushering for Rhyker to stand behind you. You scream when he does not move, instead closing and locking the front door before walking over to you both.

"Well it would seem our son found me first," Silco explains, hands now tucked behind his back as he blinks slowly, taking in your appearance with the softest eyes he can muster, the yellow one glaring into the deepest parts of your soul.

You mouth opens and closes, failing to find the words before Silco has disarmed you and walked you over to the couch with a hand on your back, "grab your mother a glass of water, please," he asks Rhyker before kneeling in front of you.

You refuse to look at him, instead are focused just past his head, watching the wood in the fireplace burn behind him. The glass of water is presented to you yet you make no move to take it, Silco puts in on the side table before pulling your chin gently to have your eyes meet again.

"No," you softly say, shaking your head in his gentle grasp. "No?" Silco questions.

"No, you're not coming back into my life, into his life. We have made roots here. Rhyker has the opportunity of a lifetime and I. Will. NOT. have you ruin it!" you exclaim.

Silco sighs yet is internally content that you have yet to push away from his touch again. "Mom- I-" Rhyker begins to speak.

"No, Rhyker. I don't care whatever lies this man has placed into your head but they are just that- lies. Just like when he said that he loved me, would protect me, you disgust me, Silco," you spit out, watching as Silco stands in front of you, looking down, calculating something.

"Hate me all you want, darling. Just know that before hate there was love and that is something I have never departed from."

─────── · ·

─ · · PART TWO

[idkdudethisisntpermanent]

Elixir - pt.ii

wednesday addams x female reader

part i | part ii

summary: Wednesday’s sudden affectionate behavior has you feeling all sorts of conflicted… You need to find a way to reverse this elixir, and fast!

word count: 4.4k

————

Wednesday looks at you expectingly awaiting a response. Her dark eyes look at you in a way that feels...different.

"Wednesday, what was that?" You ask, trying to keep your voice calm while gesturing to the empty glass bottle.

For the first time since you've known the girl, she hesitates. "It was... nothing," she replies, though her voice lacks its usual certainty.

During this entire exchange, you notice that Enid is unusually quiet, not her typical inquisitive self, and you find it strange since this situation especially should call upon those traits of hers.

Almost like she read your mind, Enid speaks, "Wednesday, why did you drink from that bottle?"

But Wednesday isn't listening. Instead, she steps closer to you, her gaze inviting and seductive. "You know," she begins, her voice unusually soft, "there's something about you that I find... compelling."

Your heart skips a beat, confusion mixing with a hint of fear. "Wednesday, what are you talking about?"

"I mean," she continues, her tone almost... tender?  "I've always appreciated your spirit, your defiance. There's a fire in you that's hard to ignore."

You blink, utterly bewildered.  Your eyes widen as realization starts to hit, "Enid, I think that bottle wasn't just any potion. It could be a love potion!" You whisper the last part.

"Oh my god a love potion?!" you exclaim, letting the words you spoke settle in.  You take a step back as Wednesday moves even closer, her eyes still locked onto yours.

"Wednesday, snap out of it!" you say, your voice a mix of panic and desperation.

But Wednesday just smiles, an expression so out of place on her usually stoic face that it sends chills down your spine. "Why would I want to snap out of it?  Being close to you feels... right."

Wednesday steps even closer leaving little to no room between you two.  She grips the knot of your tie while maintaining eye contact with you, and slowly wraps your tie around the fist of her other hand. Just as she was about to tug on your tie, Enid quickly steps in, grabbing your arm and pulling you away from Wednesday's reach. "Come on, we need to figure out how to reverse this, now."

You nod, your mind racing. You both run out of the dorm room and bolt to the East Wing library knowing that it will be empty.  The vampires think they're too elite to hold their book club in any place other than the grand library and that worked in your favour for once.

You and Enid frantically catch your breath as you collapse onto the couches in the library.

"You okay?" Enid asks, "You're quite red."

"I-I just, that was so out of character for Wednesday, did you hear the things she was saying to me?" You say flustered, gripping the knot of your tie, the very spot Wednesday was holding a moment ago.  Loosening your tie, you cover your face with both your hands and groan into them.

Enid laughs, "Hmm are you blushing Y/n/n?"

"Absolutely not," you feel your face burn up even more and refuse to take your hands away from your red cheeks until you've cooled down a little. 

"Okay we need to find that book with the potion recipes. It has to be here somewhere."  Enid nods and jumps up into action, heading towards the dusty bookshelves trying to find anything that could help.

Meanwhile you go to another bookshelf, hoping it would give you faster results.  "So we think it's a love potion right?" You yell across the library to Enid.

"Uhh yeah," Enid mutters while flipping through books.

Minutes pass and it's dead quiet in the library. "Found it!" You pull a thick, ancient book from the shelf, the cover worn and faded, with the title Elixirs. "Let's see... love potions, love potions... ahh, here it is!"

As Enid walks toward you, she can't help but notice your blushing cheeks, the way you're fiddling with the edge of your tie, and the panicked state you're in. It's a stark contrast to your usual composed self, and it doesn't go unnoticed.

You start reading aloud, "The Amore Certo, commonly referred to as the Love Potion, is a potent and rare elixir known for its ability to intensify and bring forth feelings of love and affection in the drinker."

Enid nods confirming that this matches what Wednesday seems to be experiencing.

"Upon consumption, the potion works by subjecting the drinker with a deep sense of affection towards the first person they set eyes on. This connection feels natural and all-consuming.  The drinker's heart will race, their thoughts will be consumed by the object of their affection, and they will feel a powerful urge to be near them, showering them with adoration and devotion."

As you read, your heart begins to pound. The words resonate with what you've seen in Wednesday, the way her eyes linger on you, the subtle but undeniable pull between you two.  A part of you wants to rush back to the dorm, just to see if reality aligns with what you're reading.  Only to confirm if this is truly the potion affecting her, of course... no other reason.

"Does it say anything about an antidote?" Enid says getting impatient, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"The only known antidote to the Amore Certo is the Elixir of Clarity, which must be administered within three days of consumption to fully negate the effects.  However, it is said that true love cannot be entirely undone, and a trace of the potion's magic may remain in the heart of the drinker, even after the effects have worn off. Blah blah blah, and look here's a list of ingredients to make the Clarity Elixir." You point to the long list of ingredients while looking at Enid.

The blonde lets out a sigh of relief, "Okay I'm glad we're getting somewhere.  I say we call it a night today, and we'll spend tomorrow making the Clarity Elixir and getting Wednesday back to normal."

"Wait why can't we just start now?"

"Y/n how in the world are you going to get Solar Sun Whiskers at 2 a.m in the morning?" Your friend crosses her arms with a laugh.

With that you and Enid walk back to her dorm room, so you can grab your bag and she can keep an eye on Wednesday for the night. You two decided it was probably for the best if you didn't spend the night sleeping over.

Enid pushes the door open to see Wednesday intently watching the movie that you two had put in earlier.  You look to the tv to see the credits now rolling.

She watched the movie to completion...

"Y/n!" She exclaims finally noticing you and Enid at the door. You freeze as the excitement when seeing you catches you off guard. A very large part of you can't help but secretly enjoy the way her eyes light up when she sees you.

"Wednesday, hey," you respond nervously. "We were uhm, just grabbing my bag."

She stands up from the bed, and walks towards you with a light smile tugging at her lips. "You left before we could finish our evening together. I took the liberty of finishing the film. But we can always start another one if you'd like? Or perhaps we can discuss the film and what we enjoyed about it? If I remember correctly you've seen this one before right?"

It's hard to hear the girl with the sound of your thumping heart. God she's so adorable right now. Watching the girl before you fiddle with her fingers because she's nervous around you, has made you nervous yourself. Discuss the film? That's such a Wednesday expression of love you smile to yourself. You're intrigued that this love potion has shown you what a love sick Wednesday would do and not just make her do the generic romantic things.

Wait what are you thinking. Did you just think Wednesday was adorable? You scold yourself mentally. None of this is real Y/n, this isn't Wednesday, she doesn't actually love you. This is the girl that released spiders in your room to prove a point.

"...in the film he learned a language for the girl he loved. Would you like that Y/n/n? Enid mentioned that you were studying Greek—I could learn it for you if that's what your heart desires.

You ignore the pang in your chest reminding yourself that none of this is real.

Enid looks over to you and sees you struggling, she can understand why, and steps in to break the tension. "Actually, Wens, we were thinking of calling it a night. It's late, and Y/n/n needs to get some rest. We'll hang out more tomorrow, okay?"

The thought of Enid having to console Wednesday over spending time with you feels surreal, but then again, you are friends with a werewolf—anything is possible.

Wednesday's expression falters for a millisecond, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before she masks it with her usual stoic look. "If that's what Y/n wants," she says her tone soft.

Grabbing your bag, you make your way out the door, but something makes you pause, "Goodnight Wednesday," you smile softly, not entirely sure why you felt compelled to do so.

She steps forward, the same intensity in her eyes you've seen for the past couple hours, "Goodnight Y/n."

————

That night you couldn't sleep at all. You were alone in your dorm room twisting and turning disturbed with the events of the day. Not necessarily with Wednesday's actions, but with how they make you feel. Realizing it's in yours and Wednesday's best interest to get some sleep, you finally close your eyes thinking about how in the world you were going to get Solar Sun Whiskers tomorrow.

The next morning began like any other. After getting dressed, you texted Enid, who agreed to meet you outside your dorm. As you gathered your things, a commotion outside your door grew louder, making you roll your eyes in frustration. Why couldn't people be more considerate at 7 a.m.?

Curious about the noise, you opened your door to find dozens of curious eyes staring back at you. Glancing down, you noticed a bouquet lying at your doorstep. Quickly, you scooped it up and retreated back into your room, eager to escape the prying gazes.

You carefully place the bouquet onto your bed and just stared at it. You realize very quickly that the people outside weren't buzzing because they thought you had a secret admirer, but because of the unique arrangement you received.

The bouquet in front of you seemed to be fresh black roses intertwined with small, gleaming knives and arrows, all meticulously wrapped in a blood-red bow.

That's when you notice a small index card stabbed by one of the arrows, with writing on it. Picking it up carefully you begin to read: "Good morning, Mia Cara. I hope you appreciate the flowers. I've included some weapons for your protection, given the recent attacks at the academy. Stay safe."

"Mia Cara?" You repeat back to yourself in a whisper.

"Yeahh," you hear a tired voice drawl behind you. You jump at Enid's voice startled by her appearance. Seems like she let herself in. "She heard me call you Y/n/n yesterday and decided she needed a nickname for you too. After three hours of intense discussion, she finally settled on 'Mia Cara.' Said it was perfect," the werewolf yawns.

A warm blush creeps up your cheeks as you imagine Wednesday sitting there, stubbornly insisting on the perfect name for you. It's both baffling and oddly touching. You shake your head, trying to dismiss the fluttering in your chest. "I can't believe she did that," you murmur, more to yourself than to Enid. You clear your throat, "Come on let's go get those ingredients."

And so you and Enid spend the next four hours, grabbing the ingredients for the Clarity Elixir, some more challenging to obtain than others. After defeating the sun goddess in an intense game of checkers, you've obtained the Solar Whiskers, the final piece needed to brew the reversal potion.

"How are you so good at this?" You ask as you intently watch Enid concoct the potion back at your room.

"Webbers potion making class?" she shrugs, giving the potion one last swirl before using a funnel to pour the liquid into a glass bottle identical to the one Wednesday drank from.

Determined to act quickly, you and Enid rush back to her dorm room. According to the Elixir book, the reversal potion must be administered within three days of consuming the love potion. Time is of the essence, and you're already on day two of this fiasco.

As you approach the familiar hallway you see Xavier Thorpe on his knees pleading for his life, and of course standing in front of him is the Wednesday you're typically used to seeing with a knife in hand.

"I told you! I haven't seen her at all today. There! Look! She's right behind you!" As Wednesday turns to look at you, Xavier scrambles to his feet and runs in the opposite direction.

"Y/n," she hurries over, gently cupping your cheek as she looks you over with concern, as if checking for any injuries. "I was worried when I couldn't reach you today. I even tried contacting Enid, but had no luck," she adds, nodding towards her roommate with a hint of relief.

"Come on, let's head inside," you whisper, keeping your voice as soft as possible. Wednesday's touch has you feeling unusually flustered, and you don't want your voice to give away how affected you are.

"Did you receive my flowers?" Wednesday questions suddenly with a quirk of her head.

"Yes I did, thank you," you respond, while you take notice of Enid laughing to herself. Sometimes you forget to realize how unusual this behavior of Wednesday is, since you're too busy being flustered half the time.

Wednesday hums in satisfaction, "Were you able to see the moon last night from your dorm room?"

You raise an eyebrow, not knowing where she was going with this, "No my window doesn't face that way."

"Such a pity," she begins, glancing toward the balcony on her side of the room. "As I was out there yesterday, all I could think about was how much I longed to ravish you under the moonlight, Mia Cara." She finishes with sincerity, and her eyes even darker, not knowing that was possible.

Enid breaks out into laughter, cackling at the subject matter of Wednesday's words. Never in a million years did you think you'd hear the word 'ravish' come out of Wednesday Addams' mouth. Clearly at a loss for words, Enid takes over.

"I think we should give her the Elixir," Enid says in between laughs, "It seems like the potion's effects becomes stronger as time passes.

All you could do is nod. Enid passes over a vial of the potion to her roommate, and Wednesday takes it in her hands cautiously, looking back at you, almost as if asking is this safe?

Once again you nod, urging her to drink it. You could tell that she was confused, but in the state that Wednesday was in you could tell that she would do anything that you asked of her.

As you wait for the elixir to reverse the potion, you can't help but slightly frown. A small part of you was going to miss this Wednesday that cared so strongly for you, but you also knew that you missed the real Wednesday even more.

Twenty minutes have gone by and Wednesday has moved to sit on her bed. You alternately look at Enid and the girl. "Has it worked?"

"I don't think so," Enid says defeated, "She would've scolded us for staring by now if it did."

"The book said that the clarity elixir works immediately," you say to yourself. "Maybe it'll work gradually?"

Wednesday suddenly speaks, "That tasted horrible."

You and Enid look at each other, "maybe the potion did work," Enid whispers.

"I apologize if my comment about ravishing you under the moonlight made you uncomfortable. But please, don't feel the need to torment me by making me drink these dreadful concoctions, my love," she adds gently.

"Nope, did not work," you groan with a faint blush on your cheeks at the mention of ravishing again.

You hated the inner turmoil you were experiencing.  It was confusing to have Wednesday Addams be the first girl to ever get you flowers and make you blush like you are now. It made you angry that the same girl that thrived off of making you lose control, is the same one you're worrying tremendously about.

Storming out of the room you go back to the library hoping you can figure out how to treat Wednesday fast because you didn't know how much more of this confusion you could take.

Pulling nearly every book you can find about potions out, you were now surrounded by papers and books all about the art of potion making.

"Y/n," Enid's voice gently approaches you after fifteen minutes. You don't respond, still immersed in your search for answers, though it's clear you're not making any progress.

Sensing your frustration, Enid places a gentle hand on your shoulder. "Hey, talk to me. What's going on?"

You sigh, closing the book in front of you. "I don't know, Enid. I don't like seeing Wednesday like this."

"None of us do," she agrees softly. "She's acting like the polar opposite of herself. Poor thing."

"Yeah, there's that," you admit, "but what's really throwing me off is how it's affecting me. I don't hate it, Enid. I don't hate how caring she's being. In fact, it's confusing me... I wouldn't mind experiencing more of it. And that's bad. I shouldn't be getting used to this because none of it's real," you finish, voicing your thoughts for the first time.

As you start to lose hope in finding a solution, a sudden realization hits you.

That potion was originally on Enid's side of the room. She moved it to Wednesday's desk when she almost knocked it over. But why would there be a love potion in Wednesday's dorm? And why hasn't Enid seemed surprised by any of this?

"Enid, did you make that potion?"

Enid freezes, a guilty look crossing her face. "Wait... let me explain, okay?"

You turn to her, desperate for answers. "What is it?"

"Y/n, the potion wasn't a love potion. It was an enhancer. It amplifies pre-existing emotions."

You stare at her, trying to process this revelation. "So, you're saying..."

"Wednesday already had feelings for you," Enid explains gently. "The potion just brought them to the surface."

The realization hits you hard. Beneath all the arguments and tension, there was something more—something neither of you had acknowledged until now.

"But why? Why would you even make something like this?" you ask, genuinely confused and a little hurt.

"It's frustrating that my two best friends can't get along," Enid says sadly. "We learned about this potion in class, and I thought if you drank an enhancer potion, you'd better understand your issues with Wednesday. Maybe then you two could start getting along."

"Wait... hold on. The potion was meant for me?!"

"Yeah," Enid admits, lowering her head. "I thought it would help you figure things out, and maybe if you talked to me about it, I could help bridge the gap between you and Wens so we could all be happy," she finishes with a nervous smile.

You shake your head, trying to make sense of it all. "So why did you let us waste time making the clarity elixir?"

"I honestly thought it might work," Enid says defensively. "A part of me even wondered if I had messed up the potion and accidentally made a love potion instead. I had no idea Wednesday had feelings for you."

This is all too much to take in. You sigh, "Okay, so how do you reverse an enhancer potion?"

"A heartfelt conversation."

"No, seriously, Enid. How do we get Wednesday back to normal?"

"I'm serious, Y/n," Enid insists. "The whole point of an enhancer is to amplify what's already there or reveal what was hidden. A heartfelt conversation, one where you address the things that were left unsaid, will make the enhancer's effects wear off."

"Stay here please," You tell Enid, as you slowly get up and leave the library, walking towards the room where a lovesick Wednesday Addams shall be.

You didn't know what you were doing or what you were going to say, you didn't know how you felt yourself, and how you were going to get Wednesday in the state she was in, to talk about her genuine feelings for you. But you wanted this to be solved sooner rather than later. The weekend was almost over, and you can't have Wednesday making a fool of herself when the school week starts and all students are back on campus.

With a deep breath, you gather your resolve and head towards Wednesday's dorm room. When you reach the door, you pause for a moment, your hand hovering just above the doorknob. What would you even say to her? How do you navigate this tangled mess of emotions and misunderstandings?

And holy shit Wednesday likes you?! You haven't even let yourself process the fact and now it's got you feeling all shy.

Before you can second-guess yourself, you twist the knob and step inside. Wednesday is sitting on her bed, flipping through a book, her expression more serene than you've ever seen. It's unnerving, in a way, seeing her so calm and... content.

She looks up as you enter, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Mia Cara," she greets you warmly, her voice sending a strange flutter through your chest. "I was wondering when you'd come back."

You force a smile, trying to hide the turmoil inside you. "We need to talk, Wednesday."

Her eyes narrow slightly, sensing the seriousness in your tone. She sets the book aside and gives you her full attention. "Of course. What's on your mind?"

You take a seat at the edge of the bed, your heart pounding. "This whole situation... it's complicated. I know you're feeling things intensely right now, but I need to know—how much of this is really you? How much of it is the potion?"

Wednesday tilts her head, studying you with that familiar, analytical gaze. Her jaw tightens, her gaze moves to a point just beyond you, as if avoiding your eyes might make the conversation easier. "I don't see how discussing this will change anything."

Hmm so the potion doesn't necessarily make the communication aspect easier.  You are slightly annoyed though, since this means that you have to take more of an emotional burden when talking about your feelings with Wednesday.

"Because it's important," you press, feeling your heart race. "I need to know what's real, Wednesday. This whole weekend, I've seen a side of you that I didn't think existed, and now that it's out there... I need to understand it. I need to understand you."

She's silent for a long moment, her face a perfect mask of indifference. But you can see the tension in her posture, the way her hands are clenched tightly at her sides. Finally, she sighs, a rare sound that tells you how much she's struggling with this.

"I've spent most of my life burying emotions," she admits, her voice low.  "They complicate things, make people weak. I've always believed that.  But then you came along, and for some inexplicable reason, you've managed to... disrupt that order."

You swallow, sensing that you're getting closer to the truth. "What do you mean?"

Wednesday's eyes finally meet yours, and there's a flicker of something vulnerable in them, though she quickly tries to hide it. "You irritate me," she says bluntly. "You make me feel things I'd rather not feel. And that's... problematic."

You let out a soft, almost relieved laugh. "So, I irritate you?"

"Yes," she replies, though there's a slight softening in her tone. "But not in the way you think. It's... more than that. I've tried to ignore it, tried to push it away, but the potion made it impossible."

"So the potion?" you drag out in question, needing Wednesday to explicitly say what you already know.

Wednesday looks down at her hands, clearly struggling to say what she feels despite the help of the potion, but after a minute she speaks, "I didn't fabricate feelings that didn't exist.  It merely amplified what was already there."

You feel your heart skip a beat at her words, the realization slowly settling in.

Wednesday's expression remains inscrutable, but there's a slight hesitation in her voice that you've never heard before.  "What I'm saying, Y/n, is that my feelings for you aren't solely the result of some alchemical concoction. They were there long before."

Finally, you meet her gaze, and in that moment, you know you have to be truthful—not just for her, but for yourself.

"I- I think I like you too," You stammer, the words still being difficult to hear yourself.  I guess there was always something behind those arguments we've had, you were right all along.  Maybe I did want to have those banters with you," you nervously laugh.

"But I'm scared, Wednesday. This is all so new and confusing." You quickly add.

Wednesday reaches out, taking your hand in hers, she gives it a light squeeze, "You're right.  And maybe this is the potion making me talk but I think we'll figure it out."

"Yeah we will," you smile lightly.

"So does this mean the potion will wear off?" Wednesday asks still holding your hand.

"Yeah, according to Enid, a heartfelt conversation was the antidote, and if that wasn't what we just had then I don't know what to tell you," you chuckle.

Wednesday's lips curve into a small smile, and you find yourself mirroring it. Your hands remain clasped together, a silent acknowledgment of the fleeting moment you both know is slipping away. The effects of the enhancer will soon fade, and Wednesday will return to her usual stoic self, guarded and reserved, her displays of affection rare and restrained.

But you're okay with that. Because it's in those quiet moments, in her subtle glances and the unspoken understanding between you, that you've come to cherish her the most. It's the Wednesday you've grown to care for, the one who doesn't need grand gestures to show how much she feels.

————

You wake up the next morning, unsure if the heartfelt conversation had the intended effect. After leaving Wednesday's room when Enid arrived, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you two.

Rolling over, you reach for your phone on the nightstand.  A notification from an unsaved number catches your eye.  As you read the message, a small laugh escapes your lips.

"Looks like the potion wore off."

unsaved number Please tell me Enid was making up that absurd notion about me desiring to 'ravish you under the moonlight.' Such theatrics are beneath me.

[deonsx]

Hii!! Hope ur good, I was wondering if u could make a smut fic of Rin,Sae and Reo where reader is their wife🙏🏻 take ur time and I hope u have a good day!

Hiii I'm having a hard time keeping up, but in the end, this request is with you (AgeUp!+20)

Rin Itoshi

Rin sits at his desk, slightly out of breath, his shirt clinging to his skin after a rigorous training session. His hair is messy, damp from sweat. You step into the room, holding two glasses of cold lemonade. Standing at the doorway, you watch him for a moment, a small smile playing on your lips “You’re overworking yourself again, Rin” you say softly

Rin looks up at you, his tired face lighting up with a familiar, warm smile. “Lemonade? For me?” he asks, sounding surprised “Who else would I bring it for?” you tease, walking toward him and placing one of the glasses on the desk. “Here, take it. Relax for a bit.”

As he takes a sip, his gaze lingers on you. For a moment, the room is silent, the connection between you filling the space. Then, you sit beside him, gently placing a hand on his arm “Why do you push yourself so hard?” you ask in a soft voice Rin turns to you, his smile gentle yet determined “I want to get stronger. For you” he admits quietly

Your heart skips a beat at his words. Moving your hand from his arm to his shoulder, you rest your head lightly against his chest “You’re already more than strong enough for me” you whisper, your voice barely audible

Rin looks down at you, his eyes filled with warmth and an unspoken promise. Slowly, his hands reach up to cup your face, pulling you closer. His lips brush against yours with a tentative softness, then deepen as he gains confidence. The kiss speaks of gratitude, affection, and something even deeper

When you finally pull apart, Rin’s eyes are still locked on yours, his expression glowing with sincerity “You’re the reason I want to keep getting stronger” he says, a soft smile on his lips

Rin pulled you onto his lap with one hand and his hands wandered over your curves "You are the best thing that ever happened to me..." you giggled at Rin's attitude. Rin emphasized the drunken atmosphere in the air with the kisses he left on your neck, his hands tugging at the clothing you were wearing

After taking off your clothes, your bare skin shivered in his hot breath. He kissed your breasts over your bra. Then, as if he was very experienced, he unclasped the bra one by one and released them. While he was sucking one of them with his mouth, he took the other one in his hand and kneaded it. you let out a moan at the bites as rin laid you down on the bed, wearing only your underwear and rin's finger teasingly played with her lace "you're quiet but wet?" He giggled and made you blush

he put a finger inside your underwear as he covered your mouth with a kiss "J-just take it off" you moaned against your breath but rin spoke sarcastically "I can think about it if you beg me you look so beautiful...the night is just beginning"

Reo Mikage

Reo stood on the balcony, his gaze fixed on the distant skyline. There was something captivating about the way he carried himself calm, confident, yet deeply thoughtful

“What are you thinking about?” you asked softly, stepping closer to him. Reo turned his head toward you, a small, enigmatic smile playing on his lips. “You” he replied simply, his voice low but filled with sincerity

The weight of that single word made your heart race. Your eyes locked, and the intensity of his gaze sent a shiver down your spine. Slowly, Reo reached out, his fingers brushing against your cheek. His touch was warm, tender, yet it carried a certain urgency “You’re the most beautiful thought I’ve ever had” he murmured, his voice a deep whisper.

There was no time to respond. He closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that started soft but quickly grew fervent. His hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t bear even the slightest gap between you. Every touch, every breath was charged with a longing that made the world around you disappear.

As the golden light of the sunset bathed you both, Reo finally pulled back, resting his forehead against yours. His breaths were shallow, his voice barely audible as he spoke “I don’t ever want to let this moment go” he said, his eyes searching yours with an intensity that made your heart ache

you laughed and placed a gentle kiss on his jaw. "Let's make this day ours" Reo quickly ran his hands around your waist with a sinai grin "What do you mean-" you couldn't help but laugh as he quickly grabbed you and laid you on the bed "Reo!!" Reo left lots of kisses on your face and then bites on your neck

Acting impatiently, Reo stuck his head under her t-shirt and untied her bra, releasing them from the inside. "W-what are you doing ahh!" You tugged Reo's hair under your shirt while he was sucking your breasts like a little kid. He laughed and stepped back, but without saying anything, he took off his shirt and your skin met the cold air. Reo took off your short shorts and moved your underwear to the side "Hmm? Ready already?" The way he said this with a grin made you blush and you tried to bury your head in the pillows

“Don't hide from me” He purred as he gently kissed your head. He then took off his own training shorts and revealed his hardened manhood. A 'gulp' sound came from your throat "mhhhmm how about a slow pace?" You said blushing, you actually wanted him all to yourself but at the same time you were a little nervous "ssshhh no problem...I'll do it as you wish princess" he pulled up your underwear and rubbed his dick against your heat

A scream escaped your throat as Reo entered you. Reo pushed himself inside you inch by inch "You're doing good...calm down my love" when he went in completely deep you scratched his back and he waited for a while for you to get used to it then he slowly came out and entered you again this cycle continued for a while "r-reo!! I-" his His hard thrusts made it hard for you to breathe

"fuck, me too...at the same time" you tried to get used to the speed he gave you, but the rhythm became regular after a while, you felt the knot in your stomach loosen and you felt a heavy load coming inside you. "ah...fuck...that was so good..." before you could open your eyes he collapsed next to you and pressed a kiss to your hair "you were so good for me”

Sae Itoshi

Sae sat at the edge of the bed, loosening his tie as he exhaled deeply. His usual stoic and composed expression had softened into something gentler. You stood a few steps away, watching him with a faint smile playing on your lips

“You’re staring” Sae remarked, his calm, low voice tinged with a hint of amusement as his eyes met yours “Maybe I like what I see” you teased, taking a step closer to him

He reached out, his hand wrapping gently but firmly around your wrist. His touch was warm, lingering, as if savoring the moment. He pulled you closer, guiding you to stand between his legs. His intense gaze locked with yours, his eyes searching you deeply, sending a shiver down your spine

“You know” he began, his hands sliding to rest on your waist “I don’t say it often enough, but I wouldn’t be here without you” His honesty caught you off guard, and your heart swelled at the vulnerability he rarely showed. You cupped his face in your hands, your thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “You don’t have to say it, Sae. I already know”

But tonight, he wanted to show you. Rising to his feet in one fluid motion, Sae towered over you, his presence commanding yet comforting. His hands cradled your face as he leaned in, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that started slow and deliberate but quickly deepened with passion

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him as if the space between you was unbearable. Every touch, every breath carried a quiet intensity that made the world outside disappear. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. His breath was warm against your lips as he whispered “You’re everything to me”

The rare vulnerability in his words and gaze captivated you completely. At that moment, Sae wasn’t just your husband, he was entirely yours in every sense of the word

“I'm lucky to have you” you giggled, leaning in to give him a deep kiss. At that moment, his hands grabbed your beautiful waist curve and laid you on the bed. He looked at your beautiful body lying on the bed. "This wonderful woman is mine..." He slowly leaned over and kissed your lips passionately

Sae left bites on your neck. You were surprised as he left your clothes as they were after you. "Hm?? Sae?" You looked at him in confusion "enjoy it beautiful" he slid your shorts off your legs and left you in your underwear. You wondered what he wanted from you and what he would do. You waited for his movements with the blush on your cheeks

When he caressed your underwear, you tried to close your legs with the feeling of closing them, but Sae stopped him with her tight arm "No running away, open them" you felt shaken with the dominant air. While you were embarrassed on the one hand, it was difficult for you that he could see you but you couldn't see him, you slowly opened your legs.

Sae slowly got between your legs and left slow kisses on your legs. You were ashamed to even look at him. Was he doing what was on your mind? You were nervous...!! He shivered as he felt your hot breath on your naked warmth in the room and the temperature on your skin was increasing gradually..."You are wet enough"

It had been a long time like this...that's why you were taken aback by his lack of flirtatiousness. Sae moved his tongue around the skin and tasted the slight wetness. You gritted your jaw in response to the feeling, trying to hold your breath in. sae put your legs on his shoulders and thrust in with his tongue. He quickly stole a moan from you, then another, and another, his tongue deep inside, eating you, his mouth was really functional, fuck, you couldn't use your mind

While he was eating you so hungrily, all you could do was grip the sheets and moan into the hot air. You could feel yourself getting closer and I'm sure your husband knew this better than you, but despite that, he was constantly not quenching his hunger. Soon, you came into his mouth with a moan coming from your throat "hmm, the best creampie I've had in years”

Enjoy!

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ KISS IT BETTER — GETO SUGURU.

contents. post hidden inventory arc, healing suguru agenda !!, fluff + established relationships, suguru has nightmares :(, chest kissies for sugu <3, reader lays on top of him, like very cheesy banter my bad

suguru gets nightmares—it’s expected, but it’s not easy. it breaks your heart—very painfully so—every time he jolts up with frantic eyes and labored breaths.

he tries to shake you off and pretend he’s fine the first few times, but by the time it’s happened enough, he resigns himself to letting you handle things, just like you always do.

it’s easier when you handle things—he’s starting to realize that more.

“another one?” you mumble through a yawn, sitting up and hugging him from behind as your cheek rests on his bare back. he grunts, hunched over with his head in his hands.

“‘s okay,” he says quietly, “you can go back to sleep.”

“we both know i’m not doing that, suguru,” you hum, palm rubbing slow circles into his abs. he sighs, melting into your touch eventually as he leans against you, head falling back to lay on your shoulder.

“sorry,” he whispers, “i didn’t wanna wake you.”

“i wish you would,” you hum, tracing his nose delicately as you kiss the side of his head, “i wish you’d let me help, baby.”

“you already help enough,” he mutters—almost bitterly, you note, “i don’t need to make you lose sleep over it.”

“you’d do the same for me,” you say gently, “wouldn’t you?”

“of course,” he says instantly.

sometimes, suguru is too kind for the world. it tramples him and leaves him curled on the floor under its cruelty. sometimes, he gives too much and forgets to take, to ask, and it’s starting to show. it’s starting to pile up and become too much and you think, just for once, someone should give to suguru too—because he deserves it.

“it’s a two way street, y’know,” you smile against his temple, “wake me up next time. please?”

“you really wanna see me at my lowest, huh?” he tries to crack a joke and dodge the question—but you know suguru, and you know what he needs. sometimes before he knows himself, even.

“everyone needs someone in their lowest, baby,” you mumble, “it helps more than you think.”

it’s silent for a bit. it’s like that more often than not with suguru these days—he’s silent, prefers the quiet and tender moments alone with you when you happen to catch them. he doesn’t have the energy to talk, and you don’t make him, and he’s grateful. he’s grateful when your fingers weave into his hair and your lips find his cheek, when you’re content with laying your head on his chest and just being there as he thinks.

you look down as he lays against you, his back to your chest and his body slotted between your legs, resting in your hold. it’s silent—he doesn’t always want to talk, and you don’t make him.

and he’s grateful.

finally, he breaks the silence first. “i felt it all over again,” he mumbles, “the…on my…”

his hand instinctively covers his chest, and you know what he means—he doesn’t have to finish, doesn’t have to say anything else before you press a tender kiss to his head. suguru doesn’t have scars on his chest. shoko’s reverse cursed technique heals well enough that the scars on his chest don’t remain even a little. it’s almost like it never happened—no proof of the x shaped slashes from blades to his chest.

but suguru can still feel his skin slicing sometimes—in fact, he thinks he can never forget it.

“hmm,” you think out loud, “well, there’s only one remedy for this i’m afraid.”

he looks up and raises a brow, staring at you before you crawl from under him, letting him plop down against the pillows as your body turns to hover over his.

“what are you—”

“mwah,” you press a wet kiss to his chest, starting from his collarbone before continuing in a diagonal line down the rest of his sternum. he can’t help but let his lips slowly widen into a smile with each one, letting out a soft chuckle when you tickle the skin slightly. “i read somewhere that kisses are really good for healing,” you murmur.

“ah yes, your doctorate from webmd is really coming in handy,” he teases, grinning when your lips press against his collarbone once more, on the other side this time as you peck along his chest in another diagonal line. it’s silly, a little pointless even—the wounds have long healed and you can’t even be sure you’re kissing where the scars would be, but suguru seems to brighten considerably with every touch of your lips.

it’s enough.

“well, my handsome patient,” you say cheekily, “did that help?”

“oh yes,” he nods dramatically, “i feel better than ever. thank god i have a gorgeous doctor like you.”

“hmm, i am rather gorgeous,” you brighten, giggling as he pulls you down by the wrist to kiss you softly. his hands are on your cheeks, cupping your face delicately as you hum against his mouth. “better?” you ask pulling away, pecking the corner of his mouth.

he nods, wrapping two strong arms around you as you lay over his body, grinning up at you.

“better,” he assures, “they should let you open up your own clinic. you’d put the hospitals out of business.”

“but suguru,” you gasp, “then i would have to kiss random men—surely you can’t let that happen!”

“you’re right,” he plays along, eyes widening in faux concern, “i can’t. i guess i’ll have to be your only patient.”

you smile at him—it’s radiant enough to clear the dark clouds of his shoulders, gentle enough that he feels the hardened parts of him start to go soft just a little. sometimes, suguru gets nightmares—they’re not easy, but you make them feel a lot less impossible.

it’s enough.

“what a waste of my higher education,” you sigh, “but fine. you’ll be the only one i kiss better.”

“i’m so grateful,” he snorts, pulling the blanket over your bodies as he holds you close.

sleep comes easier that night—and every night after.

i’ve decided to give this lil healing sugu series a tag so it’s: #operation: heal suguru! and you can click the tag below on this post to read the earlier drabbles !!

anyway unseen footage from this moment is that i actually sucked his tiddies as i kissed his chest. bc lord knows he just needed his tiddies sucked and he’d have been 100% happier and fine

[tearsof-scarlet]

situationship - carmy berzatto x reader

situationship

noun

a romantic or sexual relationship that is not considered to be formal or established.

Where one person wants a relationship, but the other person doesn't and they're having sex with each other.

Carmy and you have begun seeing each other after both of your late-night shifts. You both share each other passion for the culinary arts, him in cooking and you in baking. While you have been enjoying his company, the thought of what the two of you were bubbled in the back of your mind. You both lead very stressful lives and the idea of being in a relationship scares you too much to ever consider it. But when Carmy admits he’s falling for you, the vulnerability between you both becomes undeniable. Faced with the possibility of something more, you wrestle with the fear that it might pull you both apart

Contains: Angst

Words: 3680

A/N: yes, the reader is a baker. yes this storyline is one of many similar stories but honestly, I've never loved a dynamic more don’t @ me.

After another long night at the bakery, you slide off your apron, still dusted with flour and the faint scent of freshly baked bread clinging to you. As you locked up the bakery you felt his presence behind you.  Carmy’s waiting for you outside, leaning against the wall with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets, his face shadowed in the streetlight glow. The small glow from his cigarette dangling from his mouth lightened his face. You know he’s tired too, worn from the brutal hours at the restaurant, but he gives you a small smile when he sees you. You’ve fallen into a routine—meeting up after your shifts, talking in the quiet dark, sharing pastries and leftovers from the night, finding comfort in the company of someone who gets it.

You walk down the street together, sometimes talking about the night’s chaos, sometimes in a companionable silence. Tonight, you asked him about the outcome of his chicken piccata as he talked through changes he made to perfect it. You reach his place, and without words, you both step into his barely-furnished apartment. The emptiness is a familiar comfort. Carmy kicks off his shoes, and you pull a couple of leftover pastries from your bag, placing them on the counter. You would never ask Carmy to cook for you, even though he has persisted many a times.  There’s no real plan—there never is—but somehow it works for both of you.

You pull out a plain brioche from the bag and hand it to him, watching as he takes a bite. His eyes flutter shut, and he lets out a low groan, the sound slipping out as if he’d forgotten you were there. You can’t help but smile as he leans back against the counter, savoring each bite like it’s the first real food he’s had all day.

“You added more eggs?” he asks, looking at you through half-lidded eyes, his voice softer, like he’s savoring more than just the bread. There’s a warmth there, something rare in him, almost tender.

You nod, still smiling. “Thought it’d give it a little more richness. Guess it worked.”

Carmy lets out a small laugh, shaking his head in that way he does when he’s impressed but doesn’t want to admit it. “Swear, you make the best baked goods in Chicago,” he says, his voice carrying a rough sincerity that catches you off guard.

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back against the counter opposite him, crossing your arms as you meet his gaze. “Coming from you? That’s high praise,” you tease, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. But you also feel a knot tighten in your chest—this thing between you two feels good, too good. And you’re not sure where that leaves you.

He looks away for a moment, the casual confidence flickering, replaced by something a little darker, a little hesitant. “Nah, I mean it,” he says, his voice softer. “You know, if I could bake like you…” He trails off, his eyes downcast, as if he’s lost in a thought he’s not sure he wants to share. His words crush you, the blindness to see how talented he is.

Carmy’s eyes linger on you, something unreadable flickering beneath the exhaustion. Then, without a word, he steps closer, his gaze fixed on you like he’s finally found the courage to say what he couldn’t before. Slowly, deliberately, he leans in and brushes his lips against the corner of your mouth. The kiss is barely there, light as a whisper, but it sends a pulse through you, both familiar and brand new.

You let out a soft breath, and for a heartbeat, you’re both suspended in this moment, standing there in the quiet intimacy of his dim kitchen, the glow of streetlights casting faint shadows on the walls. He pauses, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his breaths shallow. His eyes find yours, intense yet hesitant, and you see the silent question lingering there—Is this okay?

Without waiting for him to overthink it, you tilt your head, closing the gap between you again, this time more certain, more wanting. Your hands rise to his jaw, your thumbs brushing against the stubble as you pull him in. He sighs softly into the kiss, letting his guard slip, the tension melting from his shoulders as his hands settle at your waist, gentle but grounding.

He tastes faintly of cigarettes and coffee, rough around the edges, but it only makes him feel more real, more him. His fingers curl slightly into your shirt, pulling you closer, and his kiss deepens, a quiet intensity beneath it, as if he’s pouring everything he can’t say into this single, shared breath. You feel his exhaustion in every movement, in the way he clings to you just a little tighter, like he’s afraid this moment will disappear if he lets go.

He pulls back, just enough to look at you, his face softened, his eyes softer than you’ve ever seen them. He’s breathing hard, but his expression is raw and open, a rare vulnerability slipping through his guarded exterior.

“I—” He stops, as if he doesn’t trust himself to keep going. You can see the struggle in his eyes, the effort it takes him to let down even a fraction of the walls he’s built. His thumb traces small, absentminded circles along your side, grounding himself.

“You don’t have to say anything,” you whisper, gently running a hand through his hair, letting him know that he doesn’t have to be anything other than what he is, right here, right now.

“This… us…,” he murmurs, his voice low and hoarse. “I want this to be more than… whatever we’re doing right now.”

The words hit you harder than you expected, and a part of you aches at his honesty, his vulnerability. But there’s a knot of doubt tightening in your chest, one you can’t ignore. You pull back, just enough to create a sliver of space between you, and shake your head.

“Carmy, I don’t… I don’t think it’ll work,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. “We’re both too wrapped up in our own worlds. You’re at that restaurant every waking hour, and I’m at the bakery. It’s—this isn’t workable.”

He stares at you, his brows knitting together, a flash of hurt crossing his face before it hardens into something more desperate. “No. No, I don’t buy that,” he says, a raw edge to his voice. “You think I don’t know how much you love what you do? I get it. I’m the same way, and I’m still here, wanting this.”

You shake your head, frustration and a pang of sadness welling up inside you. “You don’t get it, Carm. It’s not just about wanting it. We’re both so… driven, so wrapped up in what we do, that there’s no room for anything else. We’d be pulling each other apart.”

His jaw tightens, and he takes a step closer, his hands still gripping your arms, holding on as if he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “I don’t believe that,” he insists, his voice trembling. “I know I’m all-in with the restaurant, but I’m not blind to this. I know what we have here, and I’m not ready to just walk away from it. Don’t… don’t tell me it wouldn’t work without even trying.”

You close your eyes, your heart pounding, his words striking at the walls you’re trying to put up. “Carmy, you’re already on the edge. You’re exhausted every night, and so am I. How much more can we take on? If we get closer, if this turns into something serious, it’ll just… complicate things. And I don’t want to be another thing that drains you, that wears you down.”

He lets out a frustrated breath, his hands dropping to his sides as he steps back, his face contorted with a mixture of anger and hurt. “You think you’d drain me?” he says, practically begging you to see things his way. “You’re one of the few things that makes any of this worth it. Do you get that? I spend all day, every damn day, feeling like I’m just barely keeping it together, but when I’m with you, I actually… I actually breathe.”

His words hang in the air, raw and exposed, and it’s clear how much he’s putting on the line. You want to reach out, to take his hand, but the doubt won’t let go. “I’m not saying I don’t feel something for you, Carm,” you say softly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I just… I’m scared that this will just become another thing you end up resenting when it gets hard. And you and I both know how that goes.”

Carmy’s fists clench at his sides, his gaze locked on yours, his eyes almost pleading. “Please. Just… please, don’t shut this down before we even have a chance. I’m trying here. I know I’m a mess, but I’m trying.” His voice breaks a little, and he shakes his head, his expression desperate. “You think I don’t worry about this too? About what it could do to us? But I’d rather try and make it work than regret not even giving it a shot.”

You shake your head, the weight of his words lingering in the air, but the reality of what you're asking him to do presses down on you. Your heart aches as you step back, putting space between you two, as if distance will make this easier. But it doesn’t. It only makes it harder.

“I can’t do this right now, Carmy,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, strained, the words leaving your mouth like they’re coated in regret. “I just… can’t.”

The look in his eyes is like a punch to the chest—hope and desperation all tangled up, like he’s waiting for you to change your mind. But you can’t. You already know how much this will hurt both of you. You take a shaky breath, pulling yourself together even though it feels like you’re falling apart.

Without waiting for him to respond, you grab your bag, trying not to meet his gaze. “I’ll see you around,” you manage to say, voice shaky as you step toward the door. But before you reach the handle, you hear his voice, quieter this time but still full of that urgency.

“Don’t walk away from this, please.”

You don’t look back. You can’t. You step out into the cold night air, the door closing softly behind you.

As you make your way home, your chest feels heavy, like you’re carrying an anchor. It’s hard to breathe, and your mind keeps replaying the last few minutes—the kiss, his words, the way his face twisted with hurt, desperation, and longing. But you couldn’t—you couldn’t—let it happen, not when you know how much it could destroy.

Once you’re home, you try to shake it off, try to ignore the way your heart aches. But the ache doesn’t go away. In the silence of your room, you crawl into bed, trying to sleep. You manage to close your eyes, but sleep doesn’t come easily. And then, your phone buzzes—one message. You pick it up, and it’s from Carmy.

“you are my favourite person. you make everything worth it”

 Your heart stutters. You clutch the phone to your chest, feeling the weight of his words hit you all over again. You don’t know how to respond. How could you? He’s asking you to step into something that could break you both. And yet… his words cling to you like they have their own gravity.

Eventually, you force your eyes shut and try to sleep, but it feels impossible. Every time you start to drift off, his face pops into your mind, and you’re back there again—back to that moment in his kitchen, the rawness of his words, the hunger in his eyes.

The next morning, you wake to the harsh sound of your alarm ringing at 4 AM, your body aching from exhaustion but knowing you have to get up. The bakery won’t open itself, and the hours of work ahead of you keep your mind busy. You roll out of bed, washing up quickly before pulling on your apron and heading downstairs. The familiar smells of dough, sugar, and flour fill the air as you prepare for the day’s bake. Your hands move through the motions, mind drifting despite your best efforts to focus.

But when you walk into the bakery, you freeze. There, standing in the doorway, is Carmy. He’s leaning against the wall, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, looking just as worn and exhausted as the night before. But there’s something else there now—a determination that cuts through the exhaustion, a silent resolve.

"Can we talk?" he asks, voice softer than you expect.

You swallow hard, staring at him for a long beat before nodding. You don’t know what else to do, and despite everything, there’s a part of you that wants to hear him out.

You step aside, letting him into the dark, deserted bakery. The kitchen lights flicker on as you walk past him, the quiet hum of the refrigerator and ovens filling the silence. He follows you in, his steps tentative, unsure.

Once inside, he leans against the counter, hands still deep in his jacket pockets, looking out of place in the quiet emptiness of the bakery. You begin your prep—kneading dough, measuring flour—but you’re acutely aware of his presence, the air thick with things unsaid. Finally, when you can’t stand the silence any longer, you look up at him.

“What is it, Carmy?” you ask, your voice unsteady.

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes not quite meeting yours, studying the counter like it holds all the answers. Finally, he takes a breath, running a hand through his messy hair.

He’s quiet for a long moment, his eyes not quite meeting yours, studying the counter like it holds all the answers. Finally, he takes a breath, running a hand through his messy hair.

“I don’t want to push you into something you’re not ready for,” he starts, his voice low but clear. “But I don’t know how to walk away from you. I know we’re both stuck in our worlds, but…” He pauses, his gaze flicking up to meet yours. “I can’t shake the feeling that there’s something here worth fighting for.”

Your heart twists. You feel the weight of his words, the sincerity that bleeds through even as he stands there, vulnerable and unsure. You keep your focus on the dough, pretending to be absorbed in it even though you can feel his eyes on you, waiting.

“I don’t know what to think,” he continues, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m asking for a chance. Just a shot. I know what it’s like to want something so bad you can feel it, but I don’t want to live the rest of my life wondering what would’ve happened if I hadn’t tried. Please, just… just tell me I’m not crazy for feeling this way.”

His voice falters, and it feels like the room shrinks around you. You can hear the vulnerability in him, the way he’s baring himself just for you. Carmy’s breath catches in the silence, and the weight of his gaze presses on you until it feels suffocating.

His words hang in the air, like a challenge you don’t know if you can meet. You feel your heart tug in response, the truth of what he’s saying pulling you in even though your mind is screaming at you to be cautious, to keep the distance. The space between your bodies feels impossibly small, but you remain still, your hands working the dough almost mechanically, as if you can control the moment by staying focused on something—anything—else.

But Carmy doesn’t give you the space you’re looking for. Without warning, his hand shoots out, grabbing your wrist firmly, pulling your arm away from the dough. Your breath hitches in surprise as his fingers curl around you, the warmth of his touch searing through your skin.

“Look at me,” he demands softly, his voice a breathless plea.

You lift your eyes to meet his, and the vulnerability in his gaze is more than you can bear. He takes a slow breath, his chest rising and falling with the effort, before he finally says the words that you’ve been dreading, and yet somehow needing to hear.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he says, his voice thick, almost cracking. His words are out before he can stop them, and you can see the rawness of them—how much he means it. “But I think the day I saw you, I knew something was going to change.”

The air between you is charged now, electric. Your heart races in your chest, and for the first time, you’re no longer fighting the pull between you. His eyes are searching yours, looking for some kind of answer, some reassurance that this isn’t all just a fantasy to him. The room feels impossibly small, the weight of the moment pressing down, but it’s not a weight you want to escape.

Before you can say anything, your hands move on their own, pulling him toward you, your lips crashing into his with a force that surprises you both. His hand slides into your hair, the other slipping around your waist, pulling you closer, as if he can’t bear even a sliver of distance between you. The kiss is hungry, desperate, all the words neither of you can say poured into it, all the fear, the longing, the possibility of something more.

You taste the rawness of him—coffee, cigarettes, the trace of exhaustion—and it only makes him feel more real, more human. Your hands tangle in his shirt, pulling him tighter, as if you could make the moment last forever, as if you could erase all the doubts that have lingered between you.

The kiss deepens, and you feel his body pressed against yours, the heat of him seeping through the space between your clothes. There’s no room for anything else now—no bakery, no restaurant, no walls between you. Just this. Just him.

When you finally pull back, both of you panting, eyes searching each other’s faces as if trying to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions rushing through both of you, you realize that this is it. There’s no turning back now.

“I’m not crazy, am I?” Carmy whispers, his voice shaky with something close to hope, but tinged with doubt.

You shake your head slowly, your heart in your throat. “No,” you whisper back, barely able to breathe. “You’re not crazy.”

He laughs, the sound low and rich, burying his head into your neck as his arms wrap around you, pulling you close. You feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, and for a moment, everything else fades away. "I’m going to make this work, I swear, baby." The words are soft but firm, wrapped in the kind of sincerity that makes your heart ache with a gentle kind of joy.

You smile, feeling his words settle deep in your chest, and kiss him gently on the cheek, your lips lingering just a moment longer than necessary. “Now get out, I’ve got ten dozen croissants to make before 7am.” Your voice is teasing, but there's a tenderness behind it, a quiet promise that everything will be okay.

He lifts his head, his dark eyes searching yours, a playful spark dancing there. "You don’t need help?" he asks, eyebrow raised, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, like he's already planning to do whatever it takes to stay by your side. Without waiting for your response, he’s already rolling up his sleeves, his movements so effortless, so sure.

You roll your eyes, but you can’t suppress the laugh that escapes, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside. “Fine," you concede with a mock sternness, but your heart is fluttering. "But follow my instructions and don’t change any of the ingredients, Berzatto." You half threaten, the words playful but laced with affection, like a gentle challenge.

He smirks, "Yes, ma’am," his voice rich with amusement, before he turns toward the sink. The soft sound of water running fills the kitchen, but all you can focus on is the way he moves—confident, but somehow always a little clumsy in the best way. When he turns back, you can’t help but laugh softly at the sight of flour already dotting his clothes and smudging his face from your make out session.

You watch him, your heart warming at the sight of him trying so hard, his smile a little sheepish but full of that genuine joy that you’ve come to love. There’s something about him in this moment—so real, so raw, and so undeniably him and it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world.

You shake your head, unable to stop your own smile from spreading wider. He looks like a mess, but in the best way, and for the first time in a long while, everything feels so right.

And as you stand there, the soft hum of the bakery in the background, the smell of fresh dough filling the air, you realize that despite the chaos of your worlds, despite the unknowns that lie ahead, you wouldn’t change a thing. And you know, without a doubt, that this is only the beginning.

[luviwon]

MIRROR KINK | y.jw

kinktober day 24! back to the masterlist here!

☆ boyfriend!jungwon x girlfriend!reader

; a new house brings new surprises, and the bedroom ceiling mirror is no exception. at first, you don’t give it too much thought —until you catch your boyfriend’s reflection in it, relentlessly pleasuring you.

genre ; smut

taglist ; @blushbunini @moonpri @blackp1nkfan @mitmit01 @pasteltheghost16 @harukayoiiiiiiizzz @mlywon @lhspeachie @seraphira @kaykay11sworld @winuvs @yuniesluv @shhth @rizzki09 @mylettterstoyou @d-dilemma @aanniikkas @hooneyz-luver @laylasbunbunny @nyfwyeonjun @minniesverse @rikinatorr

you’re lying close, his hand gently rubbing circles on your back, a comforting rhythm. the quiet intimacy of the moment is something you savor, both of you lost in the peaceful silence. then, without a word, he tilts his head, lips brushing softly against your cheek. you turn towards him, and jungwon catches your mouth in a slow, tender kiss, his fingers tracing along your neck as he deepens it, pulling you even closer.

his kisses grow more intense, his touch more purposeful. slowly, he shifts over you, his lips trailing from your jaw to your collarbone, lingering there just enough to make you shiver. he lifts his head, eyes catching yours, and with a smirk, he whispers, “look up.”

you lift your gaze to the ceiling mirror, and the sight makes your breath catch. from this angle, you see him fully—his hair slightly messy, his toned arms braced on either side of you, the way his body moves so naturally. his mouth is on you, his touch so purposeful, but watching him like this, completely focused on you, is its own kind of thrill.

“jungwon..” you whisper, mainly to yourself because he is already far down on your body, embracing your figure, and with a quick movement, pulling up your shirt to have his eyes staring at your chest the next second. his gaze is absorbing the picture before him, your tits close together due to your new victoria secret bra, bought by no one else than your sweet boyfriend.

and damn, he loved it on you.

although he’s usually get rid of it asap to devour your tits one by one, this time he let it stay on, just because of how sexy it looked on you. jungwon’s mouth, though, couldn’t stay away from you for too long, nor could his teeth which grazed at your skin as he nibbled, leaving a love mark on your right boob for you.

just for you, and for him to show everyone who is looking at your cleavage that you are his only.

he glanced at the mark and smirked in response, feeling hungry for more, so in a matter of seconds, your chest was now covered in hickeys, each of them hurting more than the other, a pleasurable pain still. yet you couldn’t help but whine for all of them, and that only turned jungwon on even more. you continued to look up at the ceiling, seeing how he marked you everywhere, feeling a heat growing between your legs, because that was indeed a hot view.

and you both felt very hot in that moment too.

jungwon kept on going lower, kissing your stomach with care, aware of how self-conscious you were about it, but always making sure to remind you of how beautiful you look. so his kisses were full of attention, passion and even a little bit playful as his tongue dragged a wet line from your abdomen until the boarder of your leggings.

men will be men and despite how much they love that pair of pants on you, jungwon couldn’t last for too long before pulling them down, an unnecessary piece right now. he looked up at the ceiling himself, finding the two of you exchanging gazes, and that’s all it took for you to cross your legs before him. jungwon giggled, pushing his right hand between your thighs to open your legs for him, all this while staring at your reflection.

you swallowed, your lower lip feeling a deep bite as his hand felt your thighs all over, playing with them in his hands gently, caressing your skin with such care you thought this hot session turned into a massage hour, but that was until jungwon lowered his head and gave your left thigh a lick, a wet line which stopped at your bikini line.

your light coloured panties only emphasised more your wetness, the drench material almost teasing jungwon. he loved to see how much he turned you on, making your cunt scream for his tongue. so could he make you wait any longer when you were all so needy for him, right? his playful tongue drew a line along your panties, pushing the wet fabric between your folds.

his faint smile turned into a smirk before his mouth took all of your pussy inside, panties still on because if you teased him, he will tease you too. you moaned aloud, his breathe so hot and the view on top twice as much, you didn’t know if you wanted to cross your legs or spread them even more. either way, it would still end with jungwon ruining you tonight.

when he feels like he teased you enough, jungwon pulls your panties to the side, licking you harder with his piercing tongue, making you tremble under his touch. sliding his tongue from the bottom towards the top, he finds your clit easily and can’t help himself for too long before sucking on it gently, careful to pay attention to your reaction and see how you are finding it.

because jungwon is that boyfriend who cares about what you like and what you want.

so hearing your whimper and seeing you grabbing the sheets were the only signals he needed before putting his fingers to work, rubbing your pussy in circular motions with his tongue still playing with your clit. his back muscles looked so sexy in the reflection, naturally finding your way to wrap your legs around his neck, pushing his head deeper inside you.

he moaned, obviously satisfied by your decision, and his index slid slowly inside you, making sure not to rush you and give you time to accommodate. but to be fair, did you even need to get used to his finger after fucking you rough so many times before? so as soon as he realised you were okay with that, he did not add one but two more fingers to stretch you out, pushing them all the way in and his licking never stopped, but went gently along your folds to make your legs shake around him.

jungwon breathe felt even hotter now, and his fingers moved slightly faster inside you, making you moan his name in response. let’s say 1 was a joke, 2 could be just perfect, but treating you with 3 tonight was something he doesn’t usually do. so besides the whole mirror shit, it looks like he had something else, new, to experience. and so did you, whose legs found it hard to stay still when the tip of his fingers curled inside you.

“j-jungwon” you moaned, arching your back as he sped up, the wet sounds filling up the room. “shh, baby, just enjoy the show” he whispered, referring to the reflection. your eyes could barely leave the mirror on top, the way your shaking legs wrapped so perfectly around him, his messy hair starting to get a bit wet and your arm moving with each sliding inside your cunt.

and he went for hours, overstimulating you to the point not only your pussy was soaked now, but the bed sheets as well.

[utterlyazriel]

how long have i searched for you?

azriel finds his mate in the most inopportune time and he convinces himself you haven't sought him out for good reason. he couldn't be more wrong. word count: 4.6k & god bless @strangerstilinski for making this fic ever get written <3

Though he'd deny it if ever asked, most of all to Cassian, there was a part of Azriel that had spent years upon years yearning for what it would be like when he met his mate.

A chance encounter. A friend of a friend. A shared look across a crowded room, your eyes catching, where you both suddenly just know.

A thousand possible ways to meet, to find each other. Azriel had run every scenario through his head, ten times over, both soothed and aching at the dreadful mixture of hope and doubt he had. With his rotten luck, he was probably doomed to a life without ever finding his mate. If he even had one.

However, in all his years of hoping and wishing, not once could he say that he'd imagined meeting his mate the way he did.

In a flash; a brush up during the battle of Velaris, where you, a healer, had stumbled into his life. There had been only a moment amongst all the chaos, where this deep strong pull had risen in his chest, glowing and hot like he'd never felt before.

His head had snapped around, finding the source in a heartbeat. Everything leading to you.

But it hadn't been the time, no matter that you had clearly felt it too, the glow, the pull, given away with your wide eyes and parted lips. Battle was being sieged on Velaris and despite every instinct in Azriel that roared at him to stay with you, to take you from the danger, he had a duty to fulfill.

And then, even once the battle finished, the war was waged and won, when was there time? Azriel could feel it in him, the yearning that seemed to sing from his very blood — he itched to go find you. However, there was still much to do, still orders from Rhys to carry out, mission and meetings to attend to.

Besides, you hadn't sought him out either.

So, when the chaos calmed finally and he finally had time to breathe, Azriel did not seek you out. He waited. He longed.

But if you wished to stay away and never see him, then Azriel would respect it. He would never impose on your life if you did not wish it, no matter how long he had waited for his mate.

One month of quiet life rolled on.

Today, the weather in Velaris greatly contrasted his state. Exhausted from his mission and a tad more scratched up that he had hoped to be, Azriel feels like a cloud on the city's sparkling sky. He's dirty, half soaked, and probably dripping blood and mud all over the tiles.

Gods, he was tired.

The fly back to the House of Wind had been harder, his landing a little ungraceful due to the slices he bore on his wings. Not the worst of his injuries but still, they throbbed painfully and Azriel felt the rivets of rain and blood trickling along them. His wings gave a little shudder and even his shadows seemed to droop.

"And he returns—" Cassian's voice announced his arrive before his feet had even touched onto the balcony. Upon the sight of his brother, hunched and not his usual self, his tone shifted quickly. "Holy Cauldron, what happened to you?"

Azriel bristled, schooling away his sneer at the thought of the fight he just won. He rolled his shoulders back, biting back his wince at the tenderness of his wounds, and grimaced.

"Same thing that always does, brother."

Cassian frowned, his concern evident with the furrow between his brows. "You're going to see a healer."

His tanned hand gestured to Azriel's drooping wing. His question was more of an instruction. Azriel felt apprehension roll through him, torn between the sweet relief he know would come with having his wounds tended to and the first healer he could think of: you.

He shook the thought away. Nearly two months since he'd first seen you had passed and he found himself infuriated with how his brain seemed intent on taunting him. You pervaded his thoughts just as frequently as you did on that first day, even with your distance.

"Madja does not reside here anymore."

"So?" Cassian pressed. "Gods, I will take you myself if I must."

Azriel huffed. He knew Cassian could make good on his words and as another ache rippled through his back, making every slice on his skin known, he let himself relent. Besides, what were the chances of his healer being you?

"I will go." Azriel replied, straightening up his slumped shoulders. A hint of smugness crossed Cassian's face before he smiled, genuine as he lay his hand on Azriel's shoulder.

"Before you go," Cassian said, beginning to grin. "Did you wipe the floor with them?"

Azriel's lips quirked, a semblance of a smile. He inhaled, preparing himself for one more course of travel before he could rest. "Of course."

—

The second flight had agony clawing deeper within his wings, a protest with every strong beat of them, as he flew to the Apothecary down amongst the city's heart. The surging pain fought for his attention, like a poison writhing beneath his bones, and Azriel was nearly embarrassed at his hard landing.

It was loud, his boots slamming down into the pavement before the Apothecary, his wings flaring to catch him. He could feel the tremor in his muscles, each leg held taut. He looked up at his destination.

The building before him was a sage green, white trims around each of the windows. Within, through the panes of glass, Azriel could see a healer jump at his sudden entrance. His shadows wisped around him rapidly, as though they might soften his abrupt interruption.

Azriel straightened up, tucking his wings in as he reined himself in. He could feel his emotions boiling up within him, swirling and rising as he peered in the window before him. Apprehension tinged with something he wouldn't acknowledge, something too close to hope.

The glow in his chest was back. You must be near.

Azriel wasn't sure what was winning; the absolute urge to follow the tug on his chest to find the person on the other end of it, or the part of him that would prefer never knowing if you wanted him or not.

The bell above the door jingled quietly as he pushed it open. He was careful to mind his mess, far too aware of how he was tracking half a mountain of dirt in with him. Eyes scanned over each thing in the room, calculating in a way he always was.

Around him, his shadows had gotten zippier, darting about and back to him; as though, they too, could sense the nearness of his mate.

The Fae behind the counter stared, wide-eyed, whether at his shadows or simply himself. Azriel willed them to calm as best he could. They were being unnaturally eager to leave his side.

"Hello," Azriel started, unsure on the proper procedures. He wondered if just gesturing to himself might work. The Fae behind the counter, a fair women with dark hair, seemed to finally shake herself out of it.

"Hello!" She amended her behaviour quickly. Her hand waved behind her, gesturing to the corridor that stretched out behind her. "Let's do something about those wounds. If you head down and take the last door on the left, y/n will be available to get you on the mend."

The name she spoke sent a pang through Azriel and he wondered, he hoped, if a name that beautiful could potentially belong to you. Maybe, he would be better to request someone else, if it was you down the end of the hall. Hesitance kept him rooted to the floor. His eyes sweeping down the hall and back to the Fae woman before him.

"Thank you," He finally murmured. His began walking, passing the counter and heading down the hallway — mindful of his drooping, tired wings that threatened to leave a trail behind him.

Final door on the left. Azriel paused before it, deciding to knock before he entered. He could hear someone inside, bustling around in the space. His knuckles grazed against the door.

"Come in!"

A voice like honey called out, wrapping around him like the softest silk, every nerve in him trilling and burning. Azriel swallowed heavily, knowing who must be on the other side of that door. He should walk back up that hallway. He shouldn't go through this door. He should give you the privacy you so clearly desire.

And yet, the warm glow in his chest urged him forward, urged him closer, and Azriel couldn't resist being selfish. Just this once, just to see you once more. He pushed the door open and slid silently in the room.

You're everything.

Gods, as he laid his eyes on you now, Azriel had to commend himself for ever managing to keep himself from you. You’re ethereal — and the glowing tug on his chest had expanded ten-fold as you turned to face him, every ounce of his being yearning, aching, to be closer to you.

Azriel was a strong man but even he couldn’t help the way his body swayed closer, a ripple passing through his wings subtly. They gave a tiny shake behind him. His shadows seemed to be dancing across his shoulders, gleeful in their wispy movements.

Even his pain had been put aside for this moment — dialed down to barely a twinge as he drunk in the sight of you before him, his eyes scouring your face for every detail he could, lest it be the only time he got to.

Faintly, he felt his lips twitch. His hands curled up at his sides, a minuscule motion. You’re… very beautiful. You’re everything he’s been waiting for — and Azriel is sure that shine of the night sky he adores so reverently is rivaled only by your eyes.

“I—” He remembered himself, the word rasping out before he could stop it. He realised he was not sure what he intended to say. “Forgive me.”

You seem perplexed by his words if the wrinkle between your eyebrows was an indication.

One of his shadows snaked down his arm, flitting out to meet you and Azriel felt himself flush slightly. He called it back sternly and silently — only more embarrassed when it didn’t listen, circling your wrist and tickling its way up your arm.

But there was no apprehension in your face, nor in your laugh which felt like a shot of espresso to his system, as his shadows continued badgering you. Something close to mortification crept up his neck as two more shadows darted out to join the first, curling excitedly around your neck like a lover would.

“My apologies,” Azriel forced his mouth to work. “They are not usually so… misbehaved.”

You waved him off, another laugh tittering from your mouth as a shadow curled over your ear. Surprisingly, whether through some bond or not, he knew that you were not afraid of him in any sense.

Your hand waved him over to the table set up for patients, ushering him over. “That’s alright. You can tell me what I’m to forgive you for as I look over your wounds.”

Azriel didn’t move. His feet felt rooted to the floor, heart turning itself inside out. Did you not know? Could you not feel it? Were you simply sweet enough that you would still tend to him, heal him, even though you knew and had decided to keep your distance?

“I…” He selected his words carefully, watching you closely. “I did not wish to make you see me if it was not on your own terms."

You were setting up your items on a silver tray beside the medical table and when you looked over your shoulder, you seemed confused that he hadn’t moved. You urged him over with a jerk of your chin and a smile that melted through his chest, hot like candle wax.

“Nonsense.” You patted the table invitingly. “C'mon, you’re dripping blood on my floors.”

His politeness had him standing up straighter, wings bunching up as he realised they had begun to drag along the ground. It was the thing that finally got him to move, his feet stepping forward in an instant.

“I’m—”

“Kidding. I was kidding.” You intercept his apology easily, eyes bright.

Something preens within him at how you knew what he would say so soon within meeting him. Azriel took another step and let himself sink down onto the padded table, his wings resting gently around him. Even seeing you, talking to you, is not enough to chase away his fatigue. You hand him a clean cloth to clear the muck from his face and he does so silently.

“Are you fit to remove your leathers?” You asked, your gaze turned analytic as you scanned over his muscled body for his injuries.

Azriel nodded, not trusting his voice. As each piece of armor was pulled off, not a wince in sight, he was surprised at the flustering feeling within him. It was light, just a ball of nervousness, tinged with embarrassment, in his chest — which made no sense. As he pulled the final layer of clothing from his chest, Azriel realised that this feeling wasn’t coming from him.

You were staring as politely as you could, eyes darting around the injuries scattered across his torso but with a nervous flush to you. Your eyes flitted across his chest, once, twice. Barely a glimpse— something that would’ve gone unnoticed if he was not the spymaster of this court.

Azriel couldn’t resist. “Everything alright?”

If he had made voice a tad gruffer than usual, that was between him and the Cauldron.

“Yes.” You smiled at him again and it nearly made him miss the pinch in your voice. Nearly. “Just thinking that if you look like this, I hardly want to imagine the other guys.”

Azriel bit back his smile, only half succeeding in hiding it. It was wiped as you finally stepped closer, examining him properly. A furrow between your brows. Azriel could feel the hot burning want to smooth it out with his thumb, to take your worry from you.

His shadows had slipped further from him, more and more of them following your gentle hands as you skimmed atop his skin, deep in thought. They swirled around your hands, festering where you were nearly touching him, and Azriel desperately willed them to relax. They did not obey.

“The shadows,” He began, already apologetic.

Your eyes flashed to his and then back on the laceration splitting the skin on his shoulder. You pulled one of your hands back, just an inch, focusing on how the shadows followed you. Tiny wisps dancing around your hand, light touches that reminded you of a thousand tiny kisses.

“It’s alright.” You hummed, sweet with a smile. “They’re sort of lovely.”

And if Azriel had felt your momentary fluster, he had no doubt he would be unable to hide the swell of surprise within him.

You finally pulled your hands back, beginning to circle around the table to take a closer look at his wings. Azriel couldn’t repress his shiver at the thought— his mate, so close to something so precious to him. He was torn between emotions; his body buzzing at the thought of your touch and his mind adamant that you wanted to keep your distance for a reason.

“I must say, I have heard of Illyrian wings before,” Your voice breathed over his shoulder, distracted by the view. Without meaning to, Azriel’s wings gave a little twitch. “But never seen them this close. They’re very beautiful.”

Azriel blinked and willed himself to remain neutral even if all his shadows seemed to give him away; their flitterings only increased at your words.

He bowed his head. “Thank you.”

Then there was a soft touch along the leathery skin of his wing, your fingers, tentative and gentle. Azriel swallowed the noise in his throat. His wings gave another involuntary shiver.

“Is it alright to… touch?”

It’s sweet of you to ask even though he’s sure you’ll have no way of healing him if he says no. Azriel steeled himself, forcing himself to remain neutral.

“Yes,” He murmured. The wounds across his torso had already begun to heal themselves, his Fae blood clotting and knitting the skin back together at an achingly slow pace. He was too tired to heal himself properly. He had known his wings would require the most attention.

It was an effort not to jump when your touch returned, tiny fingertips that felt startlingly warm suddenly. Azriel could feel the tendrils of your magic as it poured out through your fingers, a healing salve to the agony of his wings. It felt so good he struggled to not sigh aloud, his scarred hands flexing in his lap.

“You know,” You began, voice quiet. “I was hoping you might seek me out but perhaps, for a less painful reason.”

While Azriel fought to keep his head from snapping around, his shadows did no such thing— all of them jumping from their usual hiding place. He swatted at them, mortified at how revealing they seemed to be in your presence.

Still, there was no battling away the kernel of hope that sat deep in the pit of his stomach, mixed tightly with disbelief.

Another touch along his wings, another warming healing glow. Azriel cleared his throat and fought to keep his voice even.

“You were… waiting for me?”

Gods, he couldn’t have sounded more pathetic if he tried. But his head was spinning, the glowing pull on his chest tightening, the kernel growing larger and larger. You were waiting for him, you were waiting for him.

“Of course, why would I not be?”

“I…” He had never been so lost for words in all his centuries of living. Never sure how deep the rift within him ran, a part of him convinced that the reason he had not found a mate in all his time was because he had not deserved one.

“I did not want to impose on you, I know that not all—”

It was all coming out wrong. Azriel reined in his rampant emotions, the swirling of his shadows dimming for a moment. Your hands had paused their ministrations on his wings, listening intently. He couldn’t bear to turn to face you as he spoke.

“I wanted to give you space to decide yourself. To leave the decision in your hands. Because I would understand if—”

He cut himself off with a sharp inhale. Voicing it, suggesting the possibility of you hoping and waiting for a mate all your life, just as he did, only to be disappointed that discover it was him— he couldn’t say it aloud.

He was sure you must be able to feel his fear and clamped his mental shields down as tight as he could. He would not guilt you into this.

“I can see why the Mother made us mates.” You mused after a moment.

Azriel nearly shuddered at the word, at you referring to him at your mate so casually— a yawning chasm of want spreading over his entire body. Gently, slowly, your hands began to work again.

“Here I was,” you continued, voice light and hands warm. “Thinking that, maybe, the shadowsinger had his duties and would come find me if he wished. And that I would understand if he never came to find me at all.”

This time, Azriel could not resist turning around to see your face. His heart ached terribly to hear what you had thought. His shadows spun around his shoulders and as he turned, they twisted and ran for you.

“No,” He said severely. He couldn’t help the way he shook his head, like a petulant child but you were just so wrong. “No, I— I’m sorry, I never meant for you to think— please forgive me.”

Despite his evident distress, you smiled easily with a little shake of your head. “There is nothing to forgive. It would be, well, almost hypocritical if I let you apologise for doing the same thing I did to you.”

Amongst his relief, Azriel felt his chest pulse in adoration, a smile forming on his lips. Twisted back on the table, your hands mending along his wings, the thing he’d wanted for — had spent so many years envisioning — finally finding him. He would not have it any other way.

“I’ve waited for you for five hundred years.” He croaked.

Your eyes widened a fraction and you blinked owlishly at him for a moment as his words sunk in.

“Well,” You chuckled somewhat awkwardly. Azriel could feel the nervousness radiating off you in waves. “I hope after that all that waiting it wasn’t too underwhelming—”

“It wasn’t.” He interrupted. “It isn’t. You’re…”

It was an effort to restraint himself — to not be too much, too soon.

“Despite the knots we both seemed to tie ourselves in,” He huffed a silent laugh, melting as you relaxed too. “Please believe me when I say I would not have it anything other way.”

You glowed, a sweet emotion singing from you so loudly that Azriel couldn’t not feel it. You hadn’t accepted the bond yet and still… he could feel the strong emotions as they rippled through you. Joy. He was so happy that it was joy, more than anything else. His shadows seemed to be split between the two of you, protecting you as much as they did himself.

Then suddenly, your eyes widened again, as if another thought had occurred to you.

“Wait a minute, five hundred years?” You repeated his words back to him with an air of disbelief. “You’re an old man!”

His laugh escaped him before he could capture it, entranced at your delightful quick wit. Your eyes were bright, your pretty mouth pulled into your smile.

The ache in his wings had dulled almost completely and Azriel absentmindedly noticed you had managed to heal up the majority of his wounds during your conversation. They fluttered appreciatively and your eyes darted back down to them.

“Is that to be a problem?” He teased lightly.

Your obvious flustering pooled off you, sliding down along the bond even as he felt you desperately trying to curb it. Even then, you couldn’t resist another glimpse at his toned back.

He certainly didn’t look like an old man— not with the taut tan muscles of his back, his large biceps, nor his handsome young face. His hazel eyes watched playfully as you allowed yourself one long look over him.

“Nope,” you said decisively, pressing down your grin. You held your hands up defensively, as if it would aid your point. “No problems here.”

Your footsteps were light as you rounded the table to face him from the front, your healing job completed. For a quiet moment, Azriel could only stare — holding his breath, waiting.

He schooled away any thoughts of how much it would hurt to part from you, now that he had finally found you, and spoke again.

“It doesn’t have to be now.” He said, hazel eyes fixed on your own. He made sure his emotions were unwavering, that you would not feel swayed to spare his feelings. A shadow skittered across your shoulder.

“I want you to be sure. I would never want you to feel as though you had no choice. We— I can wait, I have waited years for you, I can—”

His words were smothered in his own breathy gasp as you reached out, one finger trailing across the peak of his wing. Something like pure desire shot down his spine and he did everything in his power to hold in his growl.

“Something told me that would get you to stop talking.” You said, with a hint of teasing.

A seriousness flicked across your face, settling into your expression as you took in the male before you, your mate — and you could feel his want, the enormity of his yearning trickling down the bond— and yet, you knew that he would walk away from it in a second if you asked him to.

You had no intention of doing any such thing.

“While you may have me beat on the waiting,” You said softly. It didn’t feel right when you’ve only just met him to reach out, but the urge swims within you anyways.

You reached out to touch his face, your hand as soft and warm as a sunbeam on his skin.

“I do not wish to extend that waiting for any longer, my mate.”

Your words had an instant effect, a shudder that passed across his face, eyes fluttering, the flick of his wings spreading out and forwards, as though reaching for you. You kept your hand steady.

Azriel allowed himself to lean into your touch. Allowed every feeling to flow down the warm tug in his chest, over the bridge that kept him inexplicably connected to you — overwhelming bouts of relief, of love, all of it unrestrained. And he could feel you on the other end, meeting it all with the softest, kindest assurance.

“Can…” He murmured, nearly embarrassed. He would have been if you were looking at him any way other than completely adored. His shadows had finally slowed, soft caressing motions along your shoulders and neck. He dared to ask. “Would you say it once more?”

You smiled, brighter than the sun and softer than moonlight, unable to resist your temptation to get nearer to him. You inched closer, letting yourself breathe in the scent of him greedily, knowing he was doing the same. Both of you desperate to memorise each other, despite knowing you had forever to come.

Your nose brushed his and you nuzzled against it gently, eyes sliding closed. Azriel released a shaky breath, his scarred hands clenching tightly in his lap, terribly overwhelmed in a way he’d never been before. If you had peeked over his shoulder, you might have seen the slight quiver in his wings.

“Azriel,” you whispered. “My mate.”

The shadows around both of you suddenly laid down very still, as if they had encountered a feeling within their master that had not yet before; a calming tranquility. The moment lingered as you let your words sink in, watching his closed eyes. You let yourself steal this moment with him.

“Though,” you pulled back from him, watching his hazel eyes open again. The shadows around him picked up, lazily flitting around. “If you want to get all cleaned up before dinner, you best head home soon.”

“Dinner.” Azriel repeated, the smallest scrunch between his eyes.

You stepped back from him, smoothing your hands down your front almost nervously— but no, it was closer to excitement, he realised.

“Dinner, yes.” Azriel said, catching on, his wings flaring out for just a moment. You grinned, endeared entirely by all his little tells despite his apparently stony demeanour. You could see him beneath it, the soft kind Male that the Mother had made for you.

“It would be an honour.” He added seriously, finally getting to his feet, preparing to leave. You ached at the thought — but more of you preened, knowing you would see him not long after. His seriousness made you laugh.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re kinda intense?”

Azriel smiled, his shadows moving more deftly now. “And yet, never has it sounded so sweet as it does coming from you.”

You flushed and it was made entirely worse by the chuckle you felt down his end of the bond. You jabbed him in the shoulder, a bit miffed when he didn’t sway in the slightest.

“Alright, no more mud on my floors.” You ordered, faux serious as you pointed to the door. “I will see you later tonight.”

“Promise?” He asked, once more to check— but mostly to see that elated grin he was already falling in love with.

“I swear on my mate." You promised back, delighted when he grinned — properly, teeth and all — and you stole one final glance at your forever as he disappeared out the door.

part two here

[dead-boys-club]

†  do you love me? : the fatui.

❥ scenario: their mute s/o asking if they love them. ❥ no triggers ❥ i don't have any beta readers - you get what you get. ❥ requested. [ my pending isn't updated, it's a liar. ]

you had thought over it for a while, curious as to where you actually stood with your lover, no.. partner? did they love you? as your curiosity grew to a sickening need for an answer, you decided to write your question down, small and neat; 'do you love me?' before approaching to hand the paper off.

❥ la signora.

as she took the paper from you, you'd be unable to read her expression, something that was awfully common. you couldn't help but become slightly anxious as a few moments of silence went by, giving her the time to process the question. you had learned that signora was a very complex someone, someone who was guarded and difficult to read, but you had grown to understand those things about her. when she finally looked to you, there was a warmth in her gave and she set the paper down, now folded in half. she wouldn't have much to say, a simple 'yes' being whispered, full of sincerity and adoration for you, even if her expression didn't match. she reached out to cup your cheeks, the touch tender with her gloved hands, and she leaned to press a kiss to your forehead. it wasn't easy for her to express how she felt but she would never allow you to live with doubts on how she felt for you.

❥ scaramouche.

unlike signora, scara's response would be heavily complicated. he would be reluctant to take the paper to begin with, his expression immediately showing discomfort and clear distaste. love had never been something that worked out for him very well, nor did he understand it as much as others - love was one of the reasons his life had been filled with betrayal and manipulation. he was wary of emotions to begin with but love held a different kind of weight - it was almost like the word alone left a bitter taste at the back of his throat. he would quickly narrow his sharp eyes, masking the vulnerability with agitation. 'what kind of stupid question is this?' it would have hurt you had their been any malice to his tone. even as he crumpled up the paper and tossed it away, you could see some type of softness slipping through the cracks. it would take time but after a few minutes, he'd glance to you, gaze softening slightly. 'i don't know,' he admitted, voice quiet as he decided to be honest, 'i don't know if that's something i'm capable of but.. i don't hate you, if that's what you're worried about.' for scara, that was the closest thing to a confession you'd be getting and you understood and accepted that. besides.. he was a lot better with his actions than his words, even if he didn't realize.

❥ childe.

childe is always happy to accept your notes, be it during full conversations, asking him about missions, and so forth. with that happy expectation, he took the paper, only to falter briefly before a warm smile formed. 'of course i do,' he answered without hesitation. he'd wave the little piece of paper between two fingers before setting it down, 'this is a silly question.' he wasn't being demeaning, just pointing out what he thought - hoped - was obvious to you. his arms would find their way around you, hugging you close to lift you off your feet with a soft chuckle. 'why would you even feel the need to ask that?' childe had always done everything in his power to make sure his love was open and honest, being hidden from no one because he never wanted you to doubt him. he would actually wonder if he'd done something wrong that lead you to asking but it would be put on the back burner for later. 'you're one of the most important people in my life,' he whispered as he set you down, pressing a kiss right below your ear, 'and, i'll always love you.'

❥ dottore.

you knew such a question could leave you with an aching heart but you'd prepared yourself before hand, knowing the day you agreed to be the doctor's lover, it may not be in such a manner. as he took the paper from you, he read over it with an impassive expression, which you'd expected nothing less. minutes passed as he worked through your question. love was not something dottore considered valuable - emotions, in general, were considered a hindrance to him. love, most of all, was the worst there was. the paper was set down without an answer as he returned to his work, leaving you lost and hurt, despite knowing this would be the outcome. you began to turn on your heel to leave when he glanced to you. 'love is a trivial thing,' he said coldly, almost bitter. 'it's a distraction and a weakness.' you stopped yourself from frowning. contrasting his words, as you looked closely at him, you found something - a hint of conflict that told you there was more he wasn't willing to acknowledge. dottore never was one to answer things directly but his actions - his way of keeping you close, keeping you safe and granting you attention in ways no one else was allowed - that was enough, you decided.

❥ arlecchino.

she would take the paper from you and take no time in reading it, her expression calm. she isn't brought to emotional response easily - you were sure you'd never seen her flustered. she set the paper down with a thoughtful hum before looking at you, her gaze gentle. 'love isn't something i give easily or take lightly,' she answered, steady and serious, 'but if i didn't care for you deeply, you would not be here.' in another of situation or context, you'd have taken the words as a threat but instead, they calmed any frayed nerves. arle's way of showing how she feels is protective and pragmatic, something that doesn't rely on cheap words. she wouldn't give flowery words or pointless gestures - but she would make sure you felt valued in your relationship. 'yes, i do.' she finally admitted, her tone leaving no room for doubt, even as she turned away from you. 'you are mine, and i protect what's mine.'

❥ columbina.

immediately going off of your facial expression, she knew she didn't need to read the paper to know the type of question you had, a gentle, knowing smile forming. columbina is the most attuned to emotions, her own and others, especially yours. she would quickly be able to feel the vulnerability and doubt behind your written word. without hesitation, she collected your hand in her own, making sure to hold your gaze. 'yes,' she said easily, 'i love you more than words will ever be able to express.' columbina leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek. 'you needn't doubt that,' she whispered, letting your hand go only to pull you into a hug, her eyes closing, 'i always will, beloved.' her love was soft, open and nurturing, a presence that never ceased and you almost felt guilty for doubting her. she had done her best to make sure you felt cherished and adored and she would continue to do so.

❥ pantalone.

he wouldn't question why you were suddenly handing him paper but he would be curious, eyes shining with interest as he read the question. panta is a man who sees emotions as secondary to his ambitions and goals, especially with his wealth and power. however, he wouldn't hesitate to admit that you, are different. this may be something that lead you to thinking you were more of a possession than a lover - he would be smart enough to figure out where the doubt blossomed from. folding the paper neatly, he set it down and let a thoughtful smile show, turning his attention to you. 'love, like any valuable asset, is not something i take lightly,' he began, head tilting slightly, 'but you, my dear.. are more precious than anything to me.' reaching out to you, his fingertips brushed over the apple of your cheek. 'yes,' he answered directly, 'i love you, and i will make sure you never doubt that again.' like the others, panta's love is often expressed through actions - keeping you comfortable and safe, your happiness being of utmost importance to him.

❥ il capitano.

he would take the paper without a second thought, reading the words slowly and feeling the weight of them. it would take him a moment to find how to answer, knowing if he was careless, it would bring you unnecessary hurt. love has never been something capitano was accustomed to, not when his life was outlined and defined by duty, loyalty and the cold fate of a soldier. he briefly wondered if love was something he could feel or understand. would he know if he was in love? after what seemed like an eternity, he would slowly set the paper down and look to you, speaking just as careful. 'love is a concept i have little experience with,' he began, his tone apologetic, 'i do care for you, deepy.. your wellbeing, your happiness. i want to keep you safe.' his answer would be straightforward, almost as though he was searching through his own words. he wished he could use the same pretty, poetic words he'd heard in passing, but that wasn't possible. 'if that is love,' he nodded slowly, 'then, yes, i do love you.' he wouldn't be as confident in those words as he wanted to be but he felt as thought it was as close to what you wanted to hear as he could get.