#sorry for any mistakes I'm dead tired

[gothcsz]

Collateral | Javier Peña x F!Reader | ~4.5k wc | Explicit. Minors DNI.

Summary: What happens after you mishandle information and subsequently fuck Javier over.

Tags: dd:dne, smut, dubcon, hurt/no comfort, dark!javi i think, angst, gunplay, gun kink, crying during sex, masochism if you squint, this is FICTION we're having unrealistic sex, biting, ⚠️ DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME ⚠️, canon typical discussions of violence, two face slaps, spanking (like a lot... i'm rly into it if you couldn't tell), pussy pronouns, degradation, light dirty talk, choking on fingers, choking in general, drool 🤤, unprotected p in v, creampie, reader is a sex worker, no use of y/n, reader is afab and able-bodied, reader is a woman of color yet everyone is encouraged to read, has hair that can be pulled but other than that no physical descriptions, sorry for any stray typos/grammatical mistakes, if i missed any other tags pls let me know okay, thanks!

A/N: this is for that one anon that mentioned gun kink con javi 🖤 been thinking about this idea for so long so when i got this ask... ya girl had to jump on itttt. this man is insane and i need him any possible way i can have him like 😭 this might not be for everyone and that's okay! just don't make it my problem. as always let me know what you think, thank you all for reading 💋

“Open the fucking door.”

His abrasive command beats through the cheap wood. You don’t move. You can’t, really, only feeling your heart pounding its way up your throat.

Your ratty apartment doesn’t do you any favors. A little thing crammed high up over the city. The only place you can afford despite the type of clientele you usually service. The door you’re staring at won’t hold back a stiff breeze, let alone a pissed off DEA agent.

You fucked up. Bad. 

Slipped some half-heard name, passed the wrong message along, and now the wrong people are dead because of it. You’ve had close calls before, but this one’s different.

Because this time, it was at his expense.

The man who showed up like the first hit of an uncut drug: euphoric and bound to ruin you the second you got hooked. He convinced you to open your legs and mouth for the good of the cause, whispering empty promises with his hand shoved between your thighs and making you come harder than any sicario ever bothered to try.

He never promised you safety. Never promised anything tangible, either.

The hinges rattle beneath his fists, causing you to swallow harshly, nails biting the soft skin of your palms. You think about pretending you’re not home, but you know better than to insult Javier’s intelligence like that.

This is a completely different side from what you are used to. Usually, he’s a man of few words and even fewer feelings. When he shows up, it’s always the same routine: quiet knock, tired brown eyes, the scent of stale whiskey and gunpowder trailing in behind him like a shadow. No warm greeting. No small talk. Only the heavy scrape of his boots as he kicks the door shut behind him, and then he’s on you.

Rough hands and a rougher mouth, always rushed and desperate. Like he’s trying to fuck something out of himself; indignation, repentance, the weight of whatever hell he crawled through that day. He never says your name. Not when he fucks you, at least. Just grabs, pulls, bends you over whatever’s closest—couch, counter, the damn windowsill if he’s in a mood—and drives his cock into you like he’s punishing both of you for something neither of you will acknowledge out loud.

Cum paints your skin like a mark he never stays long enough to claim. He tucks himself back into his jeans with those calloused fingers and mutters a half-hearted thanks, fishing a crumpled wad of bills from his wallet, tossing it wherever like an afterthought. 

Sometimes, though, sometimes, he stays.

Those nights are quieter. He’ll fuck you softer, deeper. His hands will cradle your face instead of your throat. His mouth will linger at your jaw, then your breastbone, like he’s memorizing the map of something he knows he can’t keep. That’s when you know he wants something. That he’s here for more than just your body.

He wants intel—names, whispers, pillow talk from men who trust you too much. You give it to him. Every damn time. Why? Because it means he stays a little longer. Long enough for you to count the freckles on his shoulders with your fingers. Long enough to watch him light a cigarette by the window, tight jeans low on his hips, smoke curling around him, eyes lost in some far-off place.

But this? This isn’t moody. This is a whole fucking storm.

Another heavy blow slams into the door. The frame shudders. “I swear to God, if you don’t open this—”

You step back, barefoot on the warped linoleum, voice brittle yet defiant. “We don’t have anything to talk about, Peña. Just go.”

Silence. For a flicker of a second, you think… maybe he’s gone. Maybe this time, he’ll do what he always does—leave it all behind, choking on his own rage and regret, too proud to bleed in front of anyone else.

Then a brutal, splintering sound as his boot crashes against the flimsy door. It swings open with a shriek, slamming into the wall as dust kicks up into the air. You stumble back with a choked gasp, eyes wide as he crosses the threshold.

His chest is heaving like he’s run miles to get to you, sweat clinging to his neck, glistening along the sharp line of his jaw, trickling down his temple. His nostrils flare, jaw grinding so tight you can almost hear the tension crack in his teeth. But his eyes—those dark, endless eyes—sweep the room until they lock on you. When they do, something inside you curdles.

He charges without a word.

Your feet move on instinct, backing into the clutter of your shitty living room, knocking into the corner of the couch. “Javier—Stop—” You spin away, trying to duck out, but you’re not fast enough.

His large hand clamps around your arm firmly and drags you with him like you weigh nothing. You cry out when his fingers dig into the meat of your bicep, and then he slams you against the wall, hard enough that your breath rattles in your lungs and your vision swims for a second, body pinned between the cracked plaster and his broad chest.

“Let me go!” you bark, thrashing against him, but there’s no space to move. He cages you in with his body and the fury that led him here.

That hardened expression, the one that usually stays buried behind cigarettes and casual fucks, is out in full force and inches from your face. Tension bleeds from every pore, betrayal burning in his stare.

His breath hits your cheek, soaked in liquor and ash.

“After that shit you just pulled…” he scowls, voice low and grim, fingers moving to wrap tightly around your throat, complicating your ability to breathe. “Tienes suerte que fui yo el que apareció en tu puerta. Si hubieran sido ellos, ya estarías muerta.” (You’re lucky I was the one who showed up at your door. Had it been them, you’d already be dead)

You claw at his forearms, face growing hot from the lack of oxygen, nails dragging across thick veins and taut brown skin. Your legs kick out, attempting to get your balance—to do something, but he yanks you forward just to throw you aside, hip bumping into the side table as you fall harshly.

The lamp topples and shatters, trinkets scattering across the floor. Something nicks your arm, the cut blooming red. You choke on your own breath when it comes rushing back, eyes blinking through the watery haze as you try to sit up.

Javier stands over you intimidatingly, broad shoulders eating up the skewed light from the fallen lamp, the angles of his face more defined than usual in the shadows. His jaw is clenched, lips drawn tight beneath that stern mustache, brows pulled into a frown. 

“It’s my fault,” he mutters, half to himself. “Should’ve never gone soft on you. If I’d treated you like every other whore, maybe you wouldn’t’ve fucked me over.”

You flinch at the words, but your mouth works faster than your pride. “Eres igual que los demás.” (You’re just like the rest of them)

In two steps he’s on you again, grabbing and maneuvering you onto your stomach, uncaring of the mess around you. One knee pins your legs down, and your arms are wrenched behind your back. Metal bites into your wrists—cuffs, real ones.

You can’t tell if it’s panic or arousal that crawls up your spine. Then he yanks you up by where the restraints join, hard enough to make you yelp, no doubt leaving bruises and marks in their wake. You know then—it’s both. Pain and lust, twined tight.

You’re back against the wall before you can further irritate him, hands subdued behind you. The chill of the cuffs contrasts with the burn on your skin, and every tug sends a throb straight between your legs.

You can feel the tension rolling off him, agitation coiled in every part of his body.

“Sayin’ I’m just like them. The fuck is wrong with you?”

The slap lands clean across your cheek, immediate and punishing. Your head jerks to the side, heat pooling under your skin. It shouldn’t make your pussy flutter and drool, but it does. The sound of it echoes, followed by a quiet, needy sigh that escapes you before you’re able to swallow it down.

He seizes your jaw with the same hand that struck you. The other presses hard into your hip, anchoring you to the wall. Tilting your pretty face toward him, his eyes rake over every flicker of desire—how your lips part, your tongue catching the swell of your bottom lip, tasting your own hunger.

“You like that?” He rasps, almost in amusement, pulling you apart with a look alone. “Is that what you want? For me to slap you around? Treat you like those motherfuckers do?”

You’re too breathless to speak. Too dizzy from all the overwhelming sensations. You feel his shaky exhale on your lips, the coarse brush of his mustache against your skin, the ghost of his mouth over yours. 

“Answer me.” He adjusts his grip. You don’t even see it coming when the second slap lands—same cheek, same burst of heat. Tears spring to your eyes, unbidden and humbling.

“Yes. Please.” It comes out cracked and pitiful, a desperate little whine that doesn’t sound like you. But you barely know who you are when the air is this thick with peril. 

Javier sucks at his teeth. A mirthless sound paired with a smug grin that barely reaches his eyes. His fingers stay locked around your jaw, thumb pressed into your cheek like he’s testing the depth of your obedience. His other hand slides away from your hip, reaching behind him. Then it returns—holding his Beretta.

You’ve seen it before, tucked at his back, half-hidden beneath his jacket. But never this close. Never like this.

“I should finish the job.” He cocks his head as he trains the muzzle right between your brows. “Feed you this fucking bullet and be done with it.”

The pistol gleams under the flickering light, silver and sleek and heavy-looking in his palm. It’s so close you can smell the faint tang of oil and steel.

The gun clicks and your eyes widen, joints going numb from how they’ve been pinned behind you. Would he actually do it? Kill you for fucking up his operation? It’d be a more merciful death than the other fate that’d await you.

He drags the barrel along your cheekbone, slowly as if it were his fingertip, then down, lower, tracing the shape of your mouth. Your lips tremble under the weight of it. That clean metal taste hovers just out of reach. Your thighs press together, slick pooling between them so fast it’s humiliating.

The gun’s not shaking. His hand is steady as he watches you like he’s cataloging every twitch or flutter of your lashes. The weapon is right there, dancing over your lips like it were the leaking tip of his cock.

He pushes it just slightly into your mouth. Not enough to gag. Just enough to taste.

Gunpowder. The phantom taste of his precum.

You don’t bother swallowing your moan and he sees what it does to you. How you shiver, how your eyes roll back, how your tongue grazes the steel sloppily as you deepthroat it, wetting it with your saliva.

“Fucking hell…” he mutters, voice growing thick with disbelief, like he hadn’t expected you to like it this much. His fingers twitch against your face.

Then, just as you start to sink into it, to let the tension twist into something lecherous—he pulls it away, a thin trail of spit clinging to the underside.

Javier moves with a precision that’s practiced: popping the mag free with one fluid motion, tucking the full clip into the back pocket of his jeans then pulling the barrel back to eject the chambered round. All without breaking eye contact.

The disarmed pistol returns, brushing along the curve of your jaw. It traces a path beneath your ear, gliding down the side of your neck. You shiver hard, the kind that starts in your spine and rolls outward, tugging your nipples into stiff, aching points. Your breath leaves in a shaky puff, and your back arches ever so slightly.

“You make me think about shit that I shouldn’t,” he mutters, eyes tracing over your chest. The gun shifts, grazing your collarbone before settling at your shoulder. He uses the tip to toy with the thin strap of your top, nudging it down inch by inch until it slips from your skin.

You can’t speak. You wouldn’t know what to say even if you could. Your body’s burning, pulse screaming, mouth parted and aching for him, for the weight of that gun again, for the way this entire situation just shifted into something so crude.

Your tit spills free and his mustache twitches at the sight. The gun dips again, this time over the slope of your breast, the weight of it featherlight but unignorable. He circles your areola slowly and you keen, hips jolting, wrists twitching against the unforgiving cuffs.

Neither of you utter a word, both lost in your own lust to do anything but pant and yearn. 

Your own spit is left on the sensitive flesh as he brushes the gun over your stiff nipple, rimming the muzzle with it.

A whimper cracks through your throat, slick already smearing your inner thighs. His whole body shifts closer like he can smell your arousal in the air.

“Fuck,” it’s as if the word’s been ripped from somewhere deep. He drags the other strap down with the back of his fingers, baring your tits fully.

Your other nipple is teased with the edge of the tip, eliciting the same reaction, if not more intense from how worked up he got you with the previous tease.

Broken moans tumble out of you with each flick against your breasts as he alternates. You’re a mess against the wall, pussy dripping. You’re not even ashamed.

“More, Javier—give me more.” The plea is covered in a sob. A couple of tears slip free, tracing warm lines down your cheeks. You’d take anything from him right now—pain, pleasure, punishment. Whatever he’s willing to give.

“Turn around.”

He takes a step back, pistol hanging loose at his side, his fingers twitching against the grip. You obey, turning and pressing your flushed cheek against the sticky wall. Your top is already bunched at your waist, spine curving, legs wobbly. Javier’s right behind you, pressing a steady palm between your shoulder blades, forcing your arch deeper.

Then he kicks your ankles apart unceremoniously with the toe of his boot. The scrape of leather on your bare skin has you biting your lip to hold in a moan. Your bound wrists thud behind you, matching the chaotic beat at your cunt.

“Stay like this.” Smack! His palm cracks on the meat of your right ass cheek, followed by your sharp cry. The spanks that follow are heavier, feeling like fire licking at your skin. You love how good it hurts, vocalizing as much. 

Your flimsy sleep shorts cling to you now, the outline of your pussy marked by a dark, wet patch.

Tears trickle freely down your cheeks, mascara streaking onto the wall as you brace yourself for the next hit—only this time, it doesn’t come. Instead, his hand grips your ass roughly, kneading the sore flesh like he’s half-soothing, half-claiming it. You whimper when his fingers slip lower, not even trying to hide the way they press into the soaked fabric covering you.

He groans, the sound full of want. “You’d let me do anything to you. So fuckin’ easy.”

You barely have time to brace before the pistol returns, pressed directly to your clothed cunt. Right against your swollen clit.

You lurch upright with a gasp, but his forearm presses across the back of your neck, shoving you against the wall, holding you exactly where he wants you.

“Don’t go runnin’ on me now, baby,” he snaps. “Keep still.”

He moves the muzzle in slow, tight circles over the damp fabric, coaxing a helpless mewl from your lips. The sensation is maddening—too much and not enough. You’re writhing in place, tears still falling, lips parted and wavering as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, hips instinctively chasing every calculated stroke against your clit. 

He tilts the weapon at an angle, then a dense slap of impact lands square over your covered pussy. You wail, back arching from the unexpected pain.

“¿Qué te dije? Quédate quieta.” (What did I tell you? Stay still)

“F-Feels so good,” you struggle to articulate and he does it again, harder this time. The pain outweighs the pleasure which triggers more tears and an attempt at squeezing your legs shut, but his knee is already between them, keeping you exposed and compliant.

He goes back to circling over the soaked fabric clinging to your pussy lips. Then you feel the gusset being pushed aside, the press of cold metal against bare, sensitive flesh. You suck in a breath, trying to keep still like he ordered you to.

You wish to see him, feeling his eyes studying the way your pussy reacts, wet and wanting, aching for him to defile you using the same gun that’s taken lives. The same one that has the potential to take yours.

He’s still in the clothes he arrived in—creased cream shirt unbuttoned at the neck and clinging to his frame, sleeves pushed up over strong forearms, dark jeans tight against his thighs, boots heavy where they cage your feet. 

Javier steps in closer, his hard cock dragging against your hip, a steady throb under rough jeans. Then comes a flick as the muzzle taps your bare clit a few times, thighs twitching as the buzz rockets through your spine.

You’re coming undone, right there against the wall. Your fingers fidget uselessly behind your back, skin sore and slick with sweat. Every breath is a sob, every whimper submission to him. He hears it all—and it pleases him. You can tell by the low grunt he lets out, by the way his hips subtly grind forward like he can’t help it.

The pistol trails through your slit, nudging between your folds, slow and steady as your spine curves to offer yourself up, to spread wider, ready for what he decides comes next.

“If you come, I will leave you here naked and cuffed, door wide open so they can just come in and take whatever the fuck they want.” He punctuates the last word by sinking the Beretta inside you. The unfamiliar shape parts you with a stretch that borders on too much—but your body welcomes it anyway, a broken wail slipping from your lips.

“Oh fuck, Javier.”

The thrill is unlike anything else. The textured surface teasing every muscle inside you. With each ardent pump, slickness gathers and coats the weapon, your body pulsating around it, greedy for more, globs of your creamy arousal catching on the divots.

“So hot, god damn.” He groans against your hair, flexing his forearm against you as he thoroughly begins fucking your cunt with the pistol.

“Just like that. Oh god—more.” Drool leaks from the corner of your mouth, eyes crossing as your pussy clenches around the object.

He obliges, intrigued, rotating his wrist slightly, drawing out another pornographic sound from your throat. The graze of his shirt against your back only adds to the sensory overload—rough against bare skin, almost intimate in a way.

“You better not fucking come.” His voice is low, dangerous, grinding the threat into you as surely as he grinds the gun deeper inside. Your body jerks, a pinch making your breath catch—but it only fuels the heat spreading through your core. That orgasm you were so close to before? It’s back with a vengeance, knees threatening to give.

“F-Fuck, stop, Javi, I’m—” The words spill out in a whimper, pleading for him to slow down, to show you just a shred of mercy.

“You’re what?” he growls against your ear, not letting up for a second. “I already told you what’s going to happen if you don’t listen.”

You squeeze your eyes close, as if that’s going to keep you in check. You attempt to think of anything to take you out of this moment and keep you from covering his pistol in the evidence of your pleasure. Nothing helps since the only thing that currently occupies your mind is him.

You can’t stop trembling, can’t stop the slick sounds of your folds clinging to the steel as he works you over. He’s making this impossible.

“Nonono, Javi—No puedo—I need to come, please,” you beg, voice cracking as your knees buckle. “Let me come, baby, please.”

He snarls under his breath, pushing the weapon deep and holding it there. The hand on the back of your neck knots into your hair, yanking back until your throat is bared, your breath caught somewhere between throe and want.

“Shut the fuck up.” His voice grates low in your ear, teeth sinking into your earlobe rough enough to make you flinch. A few more deep, deliberate thrusts of the barrel, and suddenly you’re left empty—your body shudders, whining at the loss. The sticky web of your juices still clings to the metal as he pulls it away.

You feel it press to the middle of your back, slimy from being in your cunt, and it sends a fresh shiver skimming across your skin. Behind you, there’s the frantic sound of a belt being unfastened, a zipper dragged down in haste. Javier hisses through his teeth when the cooler air caresses his cock. You feel him rubbing along the tender curve of your ass, ardent and pulsing.

He strokes himself with sure, rough fingers, guiding the slick crown along your entrance, dragging it through the mess already there. With a single greedy push, he’s buried inside you—thick, unrelenting, and infinitely more tender than the weapon. Your walls stretch around him in relief and bliss.

The gun remains where it is while his hips begin to snap into yours. Each thrust finds your deepest, most sensitive places with precision, the angle devastating. His grip shifts; first to your hip, then your shoulder—using your body as leverage to deepen every stroke. He guides your movement, grinding you back onto him, groaning at how easily you yield.

Your legs feel inflamed and weak, finally giving out. He catches you mid-fall, following you down until both of you are on your knees, his cock still buried inside you, locked in tight.

“Not yet,” he grits, a cruel reminder of his earlier command.

He hauls you flush against his chest, three thick fingers push past your lips, thumb pressing under your chin to hold you open. You whimper, helpless, your jaw aching slightly from the stretch.

The hand holding the pistol snakes forward now, dragging across your stomach before lowering with intent. When the messy tip presses between your thighs again, brushing against your puffy clit, your whole body tenses in his hold.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, though it comes out in a gag, his fingers hooked against your tongue. Your throat tightens reflexively, but it only seems to please him, and he grinds the Baretta to match the rhythm of his cock.

It’s fucked up how good it feels, the clash of steel and skin triggering your delirium with tenacious pressure against a frantic beat. You can feel every inch of him inside you, hitting so deep your vision blurs. Your lips stretch wide around his fingers as drool slips down to his wrist, catching on the face of his silver watch.

It turns him on like nothing else.

The squelching coming from where you’re joined is obscene. Each breath is a desperate whimper, and your body betrays you—tightening around him with a grip that gives you away.

“Oh baby,” he hisses through clenched teeth, forehead falling against your shoulder. “Pussy can’t help it, huh?”

“Javi—ah, Javier—” It’s a broken, spluttered cry, the only warning you manage before your orgasm breaks. Your body seizes with it, your walls flutter violently around him, and your moans pitch upward into something helpless and keening. You sob madly, teeth on his fingers, not even aware of how hard you’re biting down until you taste the faint tang of his blood.

It fuels his carnal desires. His body tightens behind you, movements growing wild and urgent. He tosses the weapon aside and slides his fingers from your mouth, freeing his hands to grasp your hips, your shaky thighs, your breasts—groping everywhere at once. He fucks you through the wave of your orgasm, chasing his own release until he spills into you with a low Fuck and a groan.

All you can do is let yourself fall limp in his strong arms—pliant and dazed. The bristle of his mustache scratches the sensitive skin of your neck. Tears continue steadily down your cheeks from the overstimulation, body wracking with the aftershocks.

You hurt all over, shoulders burning from being restrained so long, wrists injured from the jagged grip of the cuffs. Your knees are raw where they rubbed against the floor, and your lips are chapped and swollen.

You’re ruined—chest rising and falling with shallow, exhausted breaths.

He pulls out without so much of a word, only the sound of his own deep breaths filling the space. You feel the sudden emptiness like a hollow echo deep inside, followed by the warm, slow trickle of his spend dripping from you. It smears against the fabric of your sleep shorts, already damp and clinging to your used cunt. Each throb is a lingering reminder you’ll have to live with for the days to come.

Only when the cuffs ease off your joints do your arms drop and instinct pulls you inward. You collapse into yourself on the floor, shivering despite the perspiration on your skin. You fold your arms over your bare chest, trying to shield whatever vulnerability you have left. 

Your apartment is a mess, you feel lost. Weeping quietly as reality catches up. Javier doesn’t offer comfort. Doesn’t check if you’re okay. He just stands there, adjusting his belt and flexing his jaw. His detached and cool persona adding salt to injury. 

“Leave the city tonight. Lay low, don’t come back for a few months.” His voice strains, the rasp curling at the edges.

Your lips quiver as you lift your head, blinking against the sting in your eyes when you turn to look at him. “W-Where am I supposed to go?” You croak out, throat tight and sore. “I have no one. Medellín is all I know.”

There’s a pause. Just enough for a sliver of hope to cut through the fog. Maybe he’ll look at you, maybe he’ll change his mind, maybe he’ll—

“You’ll figure it out.”

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[sweet-s0rr0w]

Microfic: Inhale

for @drarrymicrofic. unbetaed, and i'm sure there's mistakes, and apparently four years hasn't made me any better at the micro part! cw: suicide

Happy birthday @wolfpants! i'm sorry it's a bit of a sad one :D

***

Harry inhales.

When he opens his eyes, he finds himself back at Hogwarts, standing in the middle of the Quidditch pitch. He’s surrounded by a mist so pervasive he can see barely twenty feet in any direction, though it’s nothing like the dense gloomy Highlands fog he knows. This mist is brighter, otherworldly in its brilliance, and it's with a lurch of his stomach that Harry understands: he might have stood on this patch of grass dozens of times, but he’s only been here once before, and the last time round it looked like a railway platform.

He's not alone this time, either: there’s a man in the centre of the pitch, kneeling over two brooms. White hair on white mist; even so, it takes a while to make the connection. It’s been years, after all.

Harry clears his throat. I didn’t think I’d see you here, he means to say, but it comes out wrong. “I didn’t think I’d be here.”

Malfoy looks up, startled. “Well, hello to you too,” he says, in that snobbish, snotty, teenage voice Harry now hears only in his dreams. “I’d say I didn’t think I’d see you here either, but then shoving your partner out of the way so you can take a Reducto to the chest actually seems rather on-brand for Harry bloody Potter.”

It’s almost funny, except for all the ways in which it isn’t. Malfoy’s so young still, barefoot, his toes digging into the mist-damp grass. His robes are Azkaban-issue, comically large; he has to bunch them up in one hand as he gets to his feet.

“This place is an in-between,” Malfoy begins, spreading his arms to indicate their surroundings. Harry’s eyes catch on his left cuff, which is brown on the inside, a faded bloodstain blooming almost up to the elbow. Malfoy catches Harry looking, and drops his hands quickly to his sides.

“I know what this place is,” says Harry quickly. “I’ve done it before, remember?”

“Of course you have,” Malfoy says, tired. “Well, I suppose that makes my job easier. If you know where you are, you know what happens next.”

Harry’s chest feels odd, suddenly, empty of air. He presses a hand against it, finds his clothes damp with the mist. “What happens next,” he says, considering. “You going to give me a load of platitudes, say some vague stuff about death, and then let me choose whether to stay here or go back?”

Malfoy snorts. “Hardly. Fuck Dumbledore, honestly. And I’m not daft, Potter, I know you’ll go back. You’ve got people who… I mean, you’ve got people, haven’t you.” He glares at Harry, cheeks pink with embarrassment. “I just thought we might play some Quidditch before you leave. If you want.”

“Yeah,” says Harry. “Yeah, alright then.”

Harry captains his Sunday league team, and Malfoy’s been dead for five years, so it shouldn’t be close, not really, but this is the in-between place, and this is Malfoy, infuriating relentless Malfoy, with teenage reflexes and stamina to boot. Malfoy plays like he has no fear, which is probably true, and like he has nothing to lose, which is definitely true, and it is close. The Snitch is barely visible through the endless mist, and the two of them end up flying neck and neck over hills and valleys, arms outstretched towards every celestial glimmer. It’s Malfoy who makes the catch in the end, breathless and beautiful, laughing and laughing and so full of life as he heads back to the stadium. The scar on his wrist is clear to see, red raw as he lifts his fist up to the sky, and Harry flies over beside him, catching his outstretched arm. The wound’s a little jagged in the middle, like maybe he changed his mind halfway through.

“I was there, for the Wizengamot,” Harry tells him, quietly, as they land together on the pitch. “I was going to speak for you.”

Malfoy makes a pained noise, turning his face aside. He opens his fist, lets the Snitch disappear off into endless white, and Harry slips his own hand in its place. There’s a rushing, roaring sound in his ears that’s growing harder to ignore.

“Decided what you’re doing yet, Potter?” Malfoy asks, voice tight. “It’s almost time, you know.” He moves to pull his hand back, but Harry tightens his grip.

“What about you?”

Malfoy snorts. “Me? What do you think?”

The roaring sound’s louder now. Harry can make out voices. Ron’s, maybe, and Robards’. There’s the whoosh of rapid casting, the pop of Apparition, and somewhere far off, a child is screaming.

Back in the silent in-between, Malfoy waits, eyes bright.

“Well?” he asks, squeezing Harry’s hand.

Harry inhales.

[writingbluerose]

That Butler, MAGIC TWISTED

✦ MASTERLIST | ✦ taglist ( if you want to be tagged, leave a comment or leave your request in the ask box ) : @lulu--lala19 @kiki-kuku @nyuu7 @bleh09 @moonwatcher2005 @toxicm0cha @boredwithlifeatthispoint @mewchiili @1nserturlhere @analiee6 @hheerrmmiitt @acersandterminal @citrine-everhart @paleocarcharias @s7-evermore

1 . AT NIGHT : unknown arrival

✦ summary : the meeting was horrible and your butler's attempts at calming you down seemed to fall on deaf years. Unfortunately for you, another problem will soon rise, and this time it seems like not even your loyal butler could get you out of it

The loud sound of heels clicking against the stone path echoed through the empty streets in a forgotten city in London. It was the dead of night, and you were far from happy. You'd say you were displeased and the last drop of patience you had was long gone. “Damn men and damn company” Trailing behind you, and yet not too far, was your ever so loyal butler Sebastian Michaelis. His eyes scanned your figure, a mix of pity and amusement in his gaze. He quickly made his way next to you and gave you a reassuring smile “Now, now. My lady, you know stress and anger don't do good for you, how about you start to calm yourself hm?” How honeyed his voice sounded, every woman who'd hear such reassuring and considerate words would fumble immediately, unfortunately for Sebastian, you were stubborn, you've been so since the day you've made the futile mistake of summoning him, so therefore, his words fell on deaf ears as usual. Fingers clenched into fist and one angry pout on your mouth you continued to look ahead of you, ignoring Sebastian and still cursing the company under your breath

Ah yes, the company you worked under. Lunara Vogue. A fashion company which you love more than anything. Your talent and ideas have given you a good spot in one of the highest positions, with great colleagues and great opportunities. But, one thing you hated about it was the executive team which unfortunately for you, was made all of men. Men who you wouldn't have a problem with IF they would actually listen to you and your opinions. There weren't many women working in the company and you had told Sebastian this with a very disappointed look on your face while the butler found it most amusing, this modern world and its standards did nothing but confuse him. Coming back, the executive team wasn't really one you would put in charge of such a popular company, they were too full of themselves and thought that they could do no wrong, Sebastian saw it himself on one of the days you released a new line of clothing. And my, they were a troublesome bunch

The sound of your steps suddenly stopped making their way to his ears, and he stopped, looking at you and waiting for your next move. You stopped before a crosswalk to take a deep breath, your eyes making contact with Sebastian's,“I'm sorry Sebastian, I'm so tired it's hard not to get angry at the littlest things” He gave a light chuckle and moved his hand to put your hair behind your ear “Nothing to worry about, little lady. I'll prepare you a bath and a warm meal so you'll rest well tonight” He gave you a charming smile before gesturing at the crosswalk, motioning for you to walk. Your lips pressed into a thin line, you slowly started walking, the villa you had managed to buy with your money was only one out of the four you had outside of the city, and fortunately, it wasn't far, you could almost feel the softness of your bed and the comfortable pillows

But while dreaming, you were oblivious to Sebastian's body language : his shoulders tensed and his eyes scanned the surroundings. Something was going to happen, and he knew it, he knew something was wrong, or perhaps something was...out of place ; He heard it before he saw it : a carriage approaching you two, and fast, too fast and way too close. The man did not waste any time, he grabbed your waist and tried pulling you out of harm's way “My lady watch out!” You barely registered Sebastian's words and touch before you heard a loud *CRASH!* and your consciousness was suddenly cut short

. . .

“...l...dy...m....” huh? is someone calling me? I can't see or feel anything... where am I? “my l...y” ...that voice? Is it...?? “ughhh...Sebastian?” “My lady! Are you feeling alright? Do you have any injuries?” “No, no I'm okay...where...are we though?” “That I'm afraid I can't answer. Strangely enough, I myself lost consciousness and woke up moments before you. Though you probably feel, we're in a quite cramped place” “hm...” Your hands came to feel around you, knocking on the walls that engulfed both you and Sebastian “It's wood...where the hell are we? Moreover, can you get us out?” You felt him nod his head against your cheek “It shouldn't be a problem, but first, do I get your permission to try and listen to any sounds coming from outside?” “You can” You felt him shift slightly so he could be in your place, his hands were tight on your waist and the only thing you could make out of his form were his glowing red eyes that, for the very first time in your life, you saw having a tint of uncertainty in them. You couldn't blame him, when you heard he also lost consciousness it was clear something weird was going on. If this was enough to give Sebastian a hard time, then you fucked up real bad. You felt him shift again : “I can barely hear anything. I have no choice but to break it” “H-hold on now! What if there are people outside?!” Your hand grabbed his arm in a tight grip and you heard him chuckle, low and amused “Come now little lady — his hand came to rest on yours — when have you heard of me being outnumbered? Did you forget? I'm your butler. And if I'll let something bad happen to you then I'm not worth my salt at all” Your eyes narrowed, though you couldn't see, you practically felt his smug smile directed at you “ughh...fine! But don't be a brute! ...for now at least...” Sebastian laughed “As you wish, my lady” You tried backing up against the wall behind you to shield yourself from the impact. You felt Sebastian's elbow right next to your cheek before a very loud smash, and the front of the cramped room fell on the floor

“What is this?!” Sebastian's voice rang through your ears before stepping next to him. The place before you was grand. A dark room with big windows, in the middle of it was a small fountain and on top of it rested a huge mirror, dark and empty. But the weirdest thing in this room was the floating coffins that were surrounding the walls and the many people wearing robes watching from the end of it. “Coffins...Were we in a coffin just now?! What- hey! Where are we?!” Coming closer to Sebastian, his whole body shielded you to prevent any unexpected attacks. His eyes scanned the room, but outside the shiny windows, not one glimpse was familiar to him “Already out of your coffins? My, you two must be some impatient gals” Standing before you, a black haired man with a bird-like mask was looking at you both with a curious yet neutral face, “Who the hell are you?!” Trying to get closer to the mysterious person, he took a step back while Sebastian grabbed your arm in an attempt to hold you back “Calm yourself — his lips came close to your ears, whispering in a commanding tone — we can't take action until we know for sure where are we and who are these people” Looking at you trough narrowed eyes, Sebastian managed to make you stay put, and angrily sighing trough your nose, you took a step back. “Forgive my lady's poor manners. If you don't mind answering, would you tell us where exactly we are? And why?” The man blinked twice, surprised by the butler's gentle and calm tone opposed to the one he used earlier but answered anyway : “Why? Well that's an easy answer! — his lips formed a giddy smile — You both are here because you were chosen!” Tilting his head in confusion, Sebastian looked at the man signaling him to continue and satisfy the rest of his questions “You are at the very prestigious Arcane Academy Night Raven Collage! A collage where talented mages from all around come to learn and control their magic!”

The surprise on your face wasn't missed “... magic?? L-like the-the characters from books? Magic??” The masked man nodded eagerly “You're here because the dark mirror has recognized both of your talents for magic! Has a carriage not come to pick you up and transport you here?” Sebastian's eyes widded for a slight moment before meeting yours, all of what happened suddenly making sense. You stepped from the spot behind him and tried to reason “But this doesn't make any sense! We can't be here! Not one of us...not one of us can use magic! We're just normal people!” “...But that's simply not possible!...” Along with the masked voice, murmurs erupted from all around, clearly what you call 'normal' as in 'you have no magic' was considered anything but in this place. Sebastian's voice made its way over all the chatter “Could you please send us back? We need to go back home” “Oh of course of course! — the masked man hurriedly came to guide you in front of the giant mirror — I don't know how the dark mirror could make such a mistake!” He stopped in front of it and raised his hands against it “O Dark Mirror! Please guide these souls back to where they belong!” Silence. You and Sebastian looked into the dark mirror and then at each other. Moments passed and a face appeared into it, making you stumble back in surprise. The face looked at both of your expressions, then — “Nowhere. There is nowhere where these souls belong. There's no place for the soul who is guided by hunger, the soul that has no purpose, the one who has not allegiance to life nor death, born by curse and bind by contract. There is no place for the soul that was once clean and now binds the mark of a darkness unknown, a soul that is slowly consumed by the emptiness surrounding it. There is no place where these souls shall return!”

Silence. Nowhere...? You opened your mouth to say something but nothing came out of it. The murmurs stopped, no one moved, yet before anyone said anything you still were the one to break the ice : “W-wait a second now...this doesn't make any sense! If that place doesn't exist then how in the world could that carriage find us in the first place?!” “Then may I ask what place you come from exactly?” Before you could say anything else, you felt a hand on your shoulders, “London, we come from a place called London” The masked man put a finger on his chin, thinking “London...I've never heard of such a place” “!?...” “You two, are you perhaps lying to me?” “No of course not! Why would we lie- ” “MYAHAHA HERE I COME!” Before you gave another try at reasoning, one of the grand windows broke, revealing a little creature who got inside. A gray fluffy creature, its eyes were blue, and accompanying the color of them was also the strong and bright blue flames coming out of its ears. The tail also having an odd form, a pitchfork, darker than the color of the gray fur and white tummy. “I heard everything you said out there! And if they can't come to this school then I'll take their place instead!” “How cute, he has a little bow attached to him” A light chuckle was heard from next to you, Sebastian's cheeks had a slight blush to them...ah, he's already lost... “I am the great Grim! And I'm here to take a place at this school and become the greatest mage in the world!” At the monster's words, laughter from all around was heard. Oh? Could he not do that? You felt a bit sorry for him“Q-quit laughing you! If that's how you'll act then so be it! I'll show you what I'm capable of!” “H-hold on there! First you crash our ceremony then-” But the masked man didn't get to finish his sentence, for before he could say anything else, the little beast inhaled hard and let out a big wall of blue fire engulfing the whole room“Careful my lady!” Sebastian jumped back to a safer place holding you tight, but then suddenly your vision got blurry, the screams of the people rushing outside to escape the flames and Sebastian's figure were incomprehensive. Feeling your form getting lighter on his side, Sebastian took a glance at you, his reaction instantaneous“My lady! What's wrong?!” But you barely heard those words. Black and white little spots filled your vision, and for a moment you couldn't hear anything. Then all of a sudden—

. . .

“GRAAAAAHHHHHH!!!” There was a roar, one so strong it shook the earth. Ruins were all around. The windows, all broken, the floor was all cracked, black and sticky ooze coming out of it, as if waiting for an opportunity to strike and corrupt you. The majesty that was once this room was gone, replaced by a dreadful sight, a wasteland with no way to save it. When you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw were the flames. No corner of this room remained untouched by them, the one who did it had truly no pity. Looking closer, you saw them, a pair of eyes, that at first look seemed so full of anger, but you saw it, there deep in them, a sense of hesitance and fear. These eyes belonged to a beast, such a large beast that even if you'd tilt your head up you'd have no success in seeing all of it. He roared again and for a split second you saw something with the corner of your eye before you were blown back. People. People in black robes, the faces they bore could not be seen, as they were cloaked by a dark hood. And the robes... surrounded by all these ruins they remained untouched, brand new. You wonder if these people would be able to save it. They shout, something, but you couldn't make anything of it. You couldn't see them anymore, you couldn't see anything nor could you hear, no more shouting and no more roaring, only whispers, tiny ones : ... don't let go... don't let go...take it...take the hand...take it... don't let go...

Time was short, make it longer, save them, don't let go, take it... DO NOT LET GO OF THAT HAND!

. . .

“My lady! Can you hear me?” The first thing you heard was his voice, you blinked, once, twice, the third time was the first time you tried to escape, but a strong hold held you from moving “My lady. Relax, it's me! I'm not trying to hurt you” Your rapid breathing didn't go unnoticed by your butler, and he was quick to help you calm down. Your senses slowly came back, and before you knew it, the fire disappeared, and in its place, the beast who once caused it stood on the floor, a beautiful and elegant heart shaped collar adorning his neck. In front of him stood a boy, his robe was untouched, as if he didn't walk through those flames at all. He pointed something that seemed like a pen at the beast : “Interrupting our ceremony and then making a mess of the Mirror Chamber? Such a rule breaker has no place here!” “My, my would you look at that? You could always count on Riddle-san to make a good show” “*yawn* Yeah, yeah I just want this to be over so I can take a nap” “Really now, is that all you think about? How unbecoming of a housewarden” The voices you heard were muffled, still recovering from earlier, you barely could register the red haired boy coming closer to you. Sebastian's hand was steady on your side, straightening up, he looked the boy in the eye, waiting for him to see what he would do. He came and pointed his pen at the butler “And you two! Getting out of your coffins earlier then disturbing the ceremony is unacceptable! I'll have your heads as punishment! OFF WITH—” “Now now Mr. Rosehearts, let's calm ourselves” The masked man quickly came to put a reassuring hand on the boy “I will see to these two, so could you please go and handle our furry friend over there?” The boy's lips turned into a pout and he frowned, clearly displeased, but obeyed anyway “Yes, headmage” And turning on his heels, he disappeared. “Now that that's been taken care of. What shall we do with you?” “Excuse my boldness, but may I perhaps ask if you are so kind to see us to a place where we can rest? My lady doesn't feel really well and she needs to sleep to get her energy back” Taken aback by Sebastian's request, the headmage blinked and smiled graciously “Why yes of course! And I have the perfect place where you can stay! After all I am but so kind! Come along!” Before following the headmage's steps, Sebastian looked at you, “Can you walk?” You nodded tiredly and let the butler guide you after the man's steps

After a while of walking, all three of you were in front of an old and rusty gate, and behind the gate, rested a building that could be called a ruin with the state it was in “It has quite the... character” The masked man took Sebastian's words as a compliment and nodded eagerly “Isn't it? Come now let's get inside, I can feel the raindrops starting to fall” By the time you got inside, you could hear the droplets of rain gently hitting the windows inside the lounge “Now I know it's not the prettiest building but it can shelter you from the rain and wind just fine” Sebastian bowed in gratitude “It is more than enough, thank you” Your eyes darted to the space around you, not failing to notice the moldy wall corners and the dusty old furniture that looked like it hasn't been used in centuries. And that damned laugh— wait...laugh? ...hehe...hehe...hehe... The sinister laugh sounded from all around before you noticed a light circling you, and before you knew it, it took a physical form “Welcome to our castle!” and it disappeared “Wha- huh??? What was that??” “Ah yes I forgot to tell you : in this dorm some ghosts have taken residence” “A what now????” Looking above you at the ceiling, two more lights in addition to the first one circled around before taking the form of three ghosts in all shapes and forms “Welcome welcome you two! We haven't had visitors in such a long time” “We hope you'll make yourself at home” The ghost started laughing and playing all about in hopes of spooking you, Sebastian, quickly realizing their plan, chuckled himself “Why thank you gentlemen. We do hope we won't bother you much with our presence” The ghost's shenanigans came to a stop when they realized they couldn't shake Sebastian, so they tipped their hat and disappeared into the walls “Well now that those are gone, Sebastian! Get to clean—” “Now hold on I'm not done talking” “Aren't you?” “While I do intend to let you stay here free of charge I won't allow one of you to slack off while I'll research a way to get you both home. You'll have to earn money for your food and clothes after all, no?” “But how are we supposed to do that? Our belongings disappeared into thin air!” “I'm sure there's something you can have us do — Sebastian's hands crossed on his chest — can't you think about something?” The man put a hand on his chin thinking, then, as if a lightbulb appeared on his head, his eyes lit up. He must've found a solution “I have just the thing! How about you do odd jobs around the campus? For every thing you do I will pay you money! How does that sound?” Before you could give the rotten bird a piece of his mind Sebastian opened his mouth before you “That sounds perfect Mr...hm..., I don't think we got your name, did we?” “Ah! Where are my manners! With all that was going on I completely forgot! I am the headmage of this school, my name is Dire Crowley. And you gentlemen are?” Before you could get a sound out, Sebastian pulled you closer and whispered into your ear : “I do not recommend you telling your real name my lady. We do not know anything about these people, saying your real name could cause problems” You gave him a hesitant look before sighing “My name is...Yuu, the name's Yuu. And this is my personal butler, Sebastian. It's nice to meet you, headmage” “The pleasure is all mine, Yuu, Sebastian! Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll have to go back to the mirror chamber, I'll see you tomorrow, I bid you two goodnight!” He waved you merrily and before you knew it you were left alone in the run-down building

Later that night, you and Sebastian ditched your jackets, leaving them on a chair, leaving him in his waist coat and shirt and you in your shirt only, while the pants were uncomfortable to sleep in, it was better than nothing. “This was literally the last thing I needed! One second I walk on a crosswalk to my own home and the next I'm being transported into another world! How ridiculous!” Sebastian chuckled at your complaint while pouring tea in a new tea set found by the ghosts in the dorm's kitchen. He turned to you and handed you the cup “Such negative thinking. Well, look at the bright side, at least this dorm is more organized than the apartment I found you in when you summoned me” You rolled your eyes at his smirk and drank the tea

After drinking it, you sat on the bed looking at the ceiling before your eyes darted at the butler, watching him cleaning the tea set “I can feel you staring. Can't you sleep?” A slight blush coated your cheeks “...no” He chuckled at you before turning and coming to sit at the edge of the bed, his hand finding its way into your hair, petting it gently “A grown woman and yet you still need me to do this in order for you to fall asleep. How troublesome” You scoffed and rolled over, his hand still petting you “Stay here until I fall asleep... it's an order” “Well, if my lady wishes me to do so I shall comply” You concentrated on the feeling of him petting you, and the last thing you heard before falling asleep was him blowing out the candles

Sebastian looked down at you. What a soft expression you bare, you feel safe with him here don't you? Such a troublesome and dangerous decision you made now, it almost made him laugh out loud. You're so relaxed with him here, in an unknown world full of strangers and yet if it wasn't for that covenant you wore he won't think twice about taking your soul, your soul that shined so bright all for him. Yet he smiled, what was he to do with you? He will admit he was curious about the mysteries of this unknown world and perhaps he'll get something at the end of this too. He turned his head to the window, the moonlight illuminating his face through the drape gaps, eyes glowing red with satisfaction, he smiled,

He can't wait for tomorrow

© writingbluerose 2025

[universefcb]

Can you do Hector fort x reader?

Something like where reader and him go shopping and it’s all chaotic and cute. At the end of day he’s all exhausted and just lays down on the bed and doesn’t want to do this ever again 💕

"We were just going to buy some soap"

→ Pairing: Hector Fort X fem!reader

→ Warning: Mention of Reader. Fluff, confort.

→ Author's note: I'M ALREADY CRAZY WITHOUT BARCELONA GAMES 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡

And sorry if there are mistakes, English is not my language.I hope this is what you asked for!

It was supposed to be quick.

Thirty minutes at most, just to buy a few things for the apartment. Soap, laundry detergent, maybe a new toilet brush, and at most one or two extra items that they really needed. But it was hard to stick to any plan when she was around with that gleam in her eye that turned any mundane outing into some kind of epic quest.

And there he was, at the third market of the day, pushing an already full cart, while trying to understand how someone could spend twenty minutes choosing between two types of clothes pegs.

“This one smells like strawberries, Héctor. Strawberry.”

He raised an eyebrow, showing no reaction.

“Are we going to hang out the clothes or do aromatherapy?”

“Life is made up of details, handsome,” she replied, throwing the scented package into the cart with a smug smile.

At the decor store, the situation got worse — or better, depending on your point of view. She disappeared for a moment and came back with a pillow shaped like a giant turtle. Green, cute, completely useless. But lovely.

“What’s that for?” he asked, already anticipating the answer.

“It’s not ‘why’. It’s ‘why not’?

He couldn't help but smile. In the end, the turtle went with them. So did the set of small jars with bamboo lids, three candles (one of them in the shape of a star), a cheese grater that she thought was 'too elegant to leave in the drawer' and a toothbrush holder that looked like it had come out of a Scandinavian catalogue.

The checkout line seemed endless. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders as they waited, resting his chin on the top of her head with a long sigh.

“Never again,” he muttered. “We’ll never do that again.

“You said that last time.”

“And I’ll say it next time too.”

Hours later, the apartment door closed with a soft thud. Héctor dropped his bags on the living room floor, kicked his sneakers off somewhere, and went straight to his bedroom, without ceremony. When he reached the edge of the bed, he let his body fall face down with the weight of someone who had crossed the desert.

“I am dead.”

She came right behind, still with the turtle bag in her arms, her hair a little messy, a slight tired smile on her lips.

“You’re being dramatic.”

“I was questioned by a lady in the candle aisle because I took the last lemon diffuser. Did you see the look on her face?”

“It smelled like revenge,” he replied, dropping the pillow on the floor and carefully climbing into bed.

He didn't even move, arms spread wide, face buried in the mattress.

That's when she climbed up his back slowly, with the naturalness of someone who had done it a thousand times. First her knees were on either side, then her legs crossed over his waist, her arms resting on his back, and finally she sat on his ass as if he were a living armchair.

“This isn’t helping my energy levels,” he muttered, still motionless.

“But it helps my mood.”

She leaned forward, her nose touching the back of his neck, and whispered affectionately:

“You are the cutest boyfriend in the world. And resilient. A true department store warrior.”

He let out a muffled laugh against the mattress.

“Warriors also cry.”

She settled herself more comfortably on top of him, resting her face against his back now, her hands playing with the collar of his shirt. The silence settled in slowly, comfortably. The kind of silence that only exists between two people who love each other even on the most exhausting days.

“It was worth it,” she said softly.

“For the turtle pillow?”

“For everything. It was a day with you.”

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. And even though he was crushed, exhausted and feeling his body asking for help, he smiled.

“Okay… but next time, we’ll just buy the soap online.”

She bit his shoulder lightly, laughing.

“Not funny.”

He turned his face to the side, still without the strength to get up.

“Totally. But I love you. Even when you drag me around for three hours looking for jars with bamboo lids.”

She smiled against his skin.

“I love you too. Especially when you carry all the bags and still smile kindly at the attendant who hands you useless pamphlets.”

“Themselves”

Taglist: @paucubarsisimp @nngkay @meganesanchez @htpssgavi @merinottt @luvvpedri @moonvr @joaosnovia @httpsdana @ilovebarcaaaa @p4uul0vr @pedricando @barcapix @owala6789

[meo-eiru]

Hii beautiful Meru, I dont know if your asks are open right now so if they aren't just ignore this.

I just wanted to say i love Silas so much I think he's my favorite idea for a yandere ever, it's such a good reimagining of the concept you twisted it perfectly

I recently saw an ask of yours talking about how depressing and tragic is the fact that Silas will be darlings's doom and the readed would eventually break after a long time in his care.

I'm just interested about hearing more about a broken darling, someone who stopped fighting. How would they act? Would they become more of a Silas lovers or stay forever as his baby maybe even more infantilized after getting tired of explain he is not their mother.

Would Silas like it? Would they realize Darling has been broken? I think its fair to assume he wouldn't realize it's because of him, but if he did would he feel guilty? Does he miss a more rebellious darlings or ir he happy abour how adorably submisse she is now?

(Im not necessarily talking about a depressed broken Darling although it could be, maybe just someone who accepted their fate and is now content becoming part of this fairy tale.)

Sorry if it's too long, English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes

Byee, lots of hugs from an angst lover anon

If you're broken in the way that you just let him do whatever he wants to you without complaining Silas would just think you're finally out of your rebellious phase and finally accepted him. You let him dress you up, brush your hair, feed you, bathe you... it's like you finally accepted him as your mom!

If you're broken in the way that you completely stopped responding to everything he does like a dead person he WOULD get concerned. He would think he did some mistake and now you are upset with him. His worst fear is failing you as a mother so he would frantically try to get a reaction out of you even if it takes years.

He might try to find some human food to feed you, kids toys, picture books, new outfits... He wouldn't give up no matter how long it takes but he would cry through the whole thing A LOT. It might reach a point where his eyes are constantly swollen

[trancylovecraft]

Omg your requests are open!! I hope I'm not too late, can you do L Lawliet Alphabet pls? (Any type i don't mind!)

(DEATHNOTE) YANDERE! L LAWLIET x READER: Yandere Alphabet

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE: TIHUIFUIHIHF THANKS FOR THE REQUEST! (and sorry for the wait T-T) GENDER: Femme FANDOM: Death Note

Thank you for ordering!

Come back soon!

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

L himself would show his love in a very cold and distant manner. One minute he could be shoving you away, Another he's forcing you to sit in his lap, A plate of cake in his right hand while his left types away at his computer.

But no matter what it will always seem distant and detached, Never putting in much effort. Though mistaking that for carelessness wouldn't be a good observation..

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

As messy as he needs to be. L doesn't see the purpose in unnecessary violence. If he needs someone dead then he'll do it in the most efficient way possible to him. Though I wouldn't put it past him to say that there may be a sadistic streak if he was pushed a bit too far.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He'll treat you coldly and methodically. When you're in captive you'll be treated like an animal in the zoo. Your needs will be carefully tended to every day, On a schedule, Tailored to your preferences and your general requirements.

I wouldn't say L would be cruel, However I would say he would be distant and your time in captivity will be VERY lonely.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Apart from the occasional affection- I'd say that you'd be under surveillance at all times, Your privacy being taken away from you. Even before you were taken you were monitored in your own home. In the bathroom.. The bedroom.. Everywhere.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

L bares absolutely none of his heart to you, At all. He doesn't show his emotions or feelings towards you in his body language, And barely his words too. Don't expect much emotional comfort from this man, He's.. Not exactly the best at giving it.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Annoyed. Or tired. If you tried fighting him then Watari would deal with you pretty swiftly, The old man having some surprising strength for his age. Even if you did get past Watari, L is pretty much a master in Brazilian jiu jitsu. You wouldn't even be able to touch L before you're dragged off back to your little cell.

L wouldn't even bat an eye, He'd just roll his eyes and continue on with his work.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

I wouldn't say it's a game for him, No, L wouldn't enjoy watching your escape at all. He'd be annoyed and rather irritated to be honest with you. By now, You should know that it's futile attempting to get away from him, So why do you keep trying?

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Drugged, Sedated, All of that business. When you're misbehaving too much he'd simply drug you to keep you calm and docile. Like an animal. That or when the loneliness finally gets to you and you break down sobbing in your little cell.

There's really a lot that could be considered the worst experience to be honest with you.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

You, Behaving and finally understanding that he just wants the best for you. Working as his assistant and his partner in future cases.

I wouldn't say L would want a family, But if you did, I don't think L would be opposed into being talked into it.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

At first, No, You wouldn't think L get's jealous. Or at least he doesn't show it. But on the inside? L is fuming, Though he certainly doesn't recognise it as jealousy. At first he tries to brush it off, But of course, If the person continues to stick around you then that's going to become a problem.

He simply knows that he does not like the person you are attentive to, And that he should get rid of them. As soon as possible.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Not much different to his usual self. Though he certainly feels much.. Better, When you're around. Maybe he's a little bit calmer, Or maybe a bit more patient or perhaps elated. Though you'd need to know him for a long time to even notice these changes.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Courting? Huh? You think L is gonna court you???

Well if you consider kidnapping and stalking to be courting then sure, But I don't see him interacting with you beforehand in a normal circumstance. Maybe if things were different he'd do what he did with Light and give himself a fake identity and befriend you, But I'd only see that happening if circumstances were unique.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not really, To be honest. Unless you knew him for a long time and began to give into him, I doubt that he'd act any different around you. Though how he feels on the inside is a whole 'nother story.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Like a child having a tantrum. L would take away privileges if you acted out or tried to escape, And as I said previously, Would drug and sedate you if you got a bit too rowdy.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Not many, Except for your freedom and your access to people- Of course. L has the finances to provide you whatever you want. More space? Done. The food you want? Done. He'd even provide you internet access, All monitored though, Of course.

But of course, If you acted out he isn't opposed to taking away the rights he's left you with if you try to act out.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Inhumanly patient. L will wait years upon years upon years for you to finally accept your place here. He won't budge if you act out or try to fight him, Nor will he blow up or snap at you.

I don't see him having a breaking point, To be honest with you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Sure. Maybe at first he'd be able to appear like he moved on. Go about his day. His detective work like nothing had happened.

But as the years pass by it slowly degrades at him, Rots away at him. That yearning, That love he had no idea he had for you. It'd drive him insane over the years, The one thing that gave him that euphoria he never knew he had.

He'd never be able to move on. And it might just be the end of him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Not in the slightest, No. L wouldn't feel guilty. At the very most he'd be aware that what he was doing was selfish. But he wouldn't care and wouldn't let you go. Besides, He's taking care of all your needs, Right? Isn't that enough?

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

That inability to connect with other people, Understand others on an empathetic and emotional level. Even Watari, Who was basically his father. L never really had any idea what it was like to have a connection to someone purely built on a sense of empathy and relatability before you.

So of course, He acts accordingly.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He'd feel a little bit apathetic towards your crying and screaming, Knowing that you'd calm down after a while. Most he'd do for you is get Watari to bring you some tissues or even a little something to cheer you up like food or drink if he's in the mood.

Isolating yourself? Oh, No, No. You couldn't do that even if you tried. Even if he's not there in person, The dozens of cameras monitoring you is enough for him to stay close to you in spirit. You wouldn't be able to isolate yourself, As long as he's got an eye on you that is.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

L not showing his actual feelings through his demeanour. Definetly. While the classic yandere is driven quite boldly insane by their love for someone, L doesn't display that at all in his body language.

He's just as insane, If not a little more than the classic yandere though. Just not good at showing it.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Not much. The best I can give you is if L is invested in a case similar to the Kira one. If you play your cards right and bargain with someone like Light, Then maybe, Just maybe, You might have a chance.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Only if he deemed it COMPLETELY necessary, Otherwise. If you're not feeding yourself, If you're in a situation that requires it- L would hurt you. He might even feel a little bad about it, Too.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He wouldn't worship you like a deity but he would hold you higher in status above everyone else. You're more interesting, Better than the others. You certainly are the closest thing he'd consider to be sacred and the lengths he would go to win you over would be subtle but far.

He'd research everything about you, Everything you love and hate. He might not seem like the kinda guy to care, And honestly he doesn't think he is either.

But he wants you to love him back, No matter how much he denies it.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

Maybe a few months, Maybe even a few years. He'll stalk you for as long as he feels like before taking you. Maybe a breaking point for him doing so being you getting a partner, Or if you got into some kind've danger.

It could take a good long while is what I'm tryna say.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

I can definetly see L doing so. Days in isolation in white padded walls will make just about anyone go a little bit bonkers in the head.

L would feel conflicted. One one hand you aren't putting up a fight anymore, But on the other you're just not you anymore. And L isn't sure which one he values more.

[themadwomanherself]

You're replies have made my day! I love any post or replies focusing on Michikatsu and Yoriichi because of just how tragic their brotherhood is and how much I don't want it to be tragic.

Such post also help me a lot cause I only joined the Demon Slayer fandom some months back and haven't read the entire manga yet, so these deep dives not only help me understand the characters more, but also helps put my own chaotic thoughts into something understandable.

Either way, I couldn't resist writing that idea of mine. Not my best, but I am satisfied.

-

For centuries, Kokushibo had done all that he could to prevent his fated death; he had turned his blood vile, chained his soul to a devil, and poisoned his tongue with forbidden fruit. He had thrown aside his humanity, his family, and all the obligations that had weighed upon his soul, all for a chance to see the dawn of his 25th year. To taste an ounce of freedom from the shackles that had kept him prisoner since his first breathe.

Yet, for all he had done, all the sacrifices, all the sins, still he faded to dust. Still he left nothing behind. His descendants blood on his hands, his breathing technique a curse made forgotten, his body nothing but ash. Only the clothes of his youth and that shorn flute the only remnant, the only sign, that he once lived.

Erased from history, from time itself. But not Yoriichi. Not him. Never him.

For all the work he had done to erase his brother's legacy from this Earth, still his roots remained. They budded. They grew. And from that sapling of hope, of a love he had never known, did the end of the era of demons come about. Centuries after his demise, his shadow haunts him. His distant light mocking him, never shinning on this lonely, begging moon.

As Amaterasu-sama turns her back on her brother-husband, so too did Yoriichi. For what was the moon without the sun? Nothing.

But the sun never needed the moon, never needed another to shine upon it so that others may see it. For it needed no one but its own inner strength and light to be seen.

Kokushibo had come to understand this a century after his brother's death, had come to understand that Yoriichi never saw him for who he was. Only the idealized image of his youth, a boy who died the day their mother's pyre burned, only leaving a husk to be shaped into an undesired heir.

But the countless nights he wandered their old estate, burned by the fires of Tokugawa's ambition, and retraced the steps they had once walked together as boys, left a hope in Kokushibo's dead heart. A small yearning to be wrong. A yearning that was crushed the second it bloomed from that severed flute, protected by the one thing that could not let Yoriichi be forgotten.

A yearning that refused to die, just like him and his rotten soul.

His end had come; by the will and strength of those that carried the torch of those he had willingly betrayed. The successors of steadfast Komajiro and his dearest friend Sōsuke. The descendant of one of his most precious joys; Shouya, his beloved son.

They brought him to his knees, till nothing but his will to live remained, a will undone by the sight of his monstrous self. The rot within exposed, ripped from the ground and exposed to the unforgiving sun. The face of the man he so craved to be, the judgement that tainted his love for his twin, was no longer there. Nothing but the monster he had become remained, for there was no one to judge him but himself. No twin to push his self-hate onto, no twin to cushion the blow of his own inferiority. Nothing but the raw truth of what he was and what he had become, of who he had truly hated for all these centuries.

In the end, he could never become like Yoriichi. All he ever did was destroy what he could not have, for the truth was even worse.

Perhaps… perhaps his question could finally be answered.

Why was I even born?

But what greeted him was not the familiar blazing presence of his twin. Instead, a demur figure knelt among the endless abyss, a figure he achingly knew, who haunted him centuries after her death.

"Mother?"

His words a whisper into nothingness, but the woman heard them as equally as she heard his death plea and the flute that sang mournfully in his heart.

Akeno raised her bowed head and looked upon her son with eyes only a mother could have when gazing upon their monstrous, hideous son. Her smile still as gentle as they were in his half-forgotten youth, but no longer was she weighed by the illness that claimed her life.

Kokushibo looked towards his mother in surprise, unsure of what to say, his mouth moving on its own, but no words leaving his lips. He could only watch as his mother looked to him with a love he had forgotten, a surge of life pushing her to stand, only to fall to the ground as Kokushibo's heart plummeted at the sight.

But Akeno was not deterred. She regained her composure, settled herself down once again, and looked back to him with her warm smile, her loving eyes, her motherly presence.

Nothing was said between them as the silence stretched on; Akeno still smiling at her son and Kokushibo remaining unsteady. Centuries had passed since her death, centuries of so many vile acts committed by his hand, yet why did his mother not reject him?

Why… why did she still look at him with love?

A sadness passed through his mother's eyes, seemingly catching his thoughts. Soon, Akeno raised her hands, opening her arms as though to accept a hug, her smile turning even more gentle as a pressure began to build on each of Kokushibo's six eyes and within his chest. But there was still a question that lingered, a yearning that refused to part.

Kokushibo looked around, trying to find sight of that blazing haori, but found nothing but endless nothingness. A trickling thought began to root itself as the former Upper Moon One frantically searched. Over and over again, his actions became more frantic and desperate, dread pooling in his gut as his heart raced faster than it ever had before, the severed flute within whistling frantically as Kokushibo turned desperate and hysterical, his breathing distressed as he looked to his mother, eyes pleading.

Please let me be wrong.

But when he caught sight of his mother again, she was no longer smiling. No longer did she extend her arms out to him, only knelt there in resignation as she looked to her son mournfully.

I'm sorry.

A roar exploded behind him.

Before he could even react, a chain of melting iron wrapped itself around his calf and dragged him into the blazing inferno. The suddenness of it all saw a surge of fear in Kokushibo, digging his claws into the nothingness he stood within, desperately fighting against his fate. Looking towards his mother, he begged to know. Begged to see the one thing he yearned for most before the fire that would cleanse him of karma devoured him.

Akeno could only bow her head and silently weep, unable to give him the comfort she was unable to give in life. Unable to give him the closure he desperately craved.

"Mother?"

She could not look her son in the eye, could not see his world shatter as he was dragged into hell.

The tug of the chain and her silence only made Kokushibo feel more dread. He could only beg, "Mother?"

It was only thing he could say as fire ate at his flesh, burned through his bones. Tears fell from all six eyes, then five, then four, then three. His vision shrank as Michikatsu choked on his grief, "Mother?!"

She looked to him and only pointed towards the sky.

High above, where the fires of the hells could not reach, a brilliant light shined onto them. A brilliant star in an endless abyss. A sun as unreachable as-

Michikatsu felt his heart squeeze as he silently sobbed at such a sight, his breaking nails digging in further as he took another hand to reach out, begging for the one person he wanted most, the pain in his heart too much to bear. But it only made the chain pull harder, dragging him towards the endless pits of suffering that awaited him, the distant screams of his fellow demons as piercing as firing a gun.

Clawing at the abyss, Michikatsu stalled his descent, but did not halt it, claw marks dragging as another chain wrapped itself around his neck. The fires that roared beneath him gnawed at what flesh remained, but he didn't care. He wanted-

He just wanted-!

I… I just wanted to be like you…

Though Akeno could no longer see her son, she still felt his suffering. His pain. His anguish. She could still hear his struggles, his cries, how his bones snap and his flesh sizzles. She could do nothing but weep as her son was dragged into the hells, silently pleading for the person he loved beyond else.

But Yoriichi was not there.

(But she would. No matter how long, she would remain and wait. For no one else would.)

And Michikatsu understood, then, that he was right…

It did little to dampen the pain, the hurt.

That was his final thoughts as his arms were severed from his being, burnt through till nothing connected them to him. The final thought as he fell into the burning gates, his head pulled downwards towards the deepest realm, where only fire and near eternal suffering awaited him.

The final thought as he raised the stump of his arm towards the distant sun above. Forever unreachable. Eternally 93 miles away.

-

Ok. I’ve recently had a thought that is super depressing (for me) and I need to share. Don’t care how improbably this is, I’m just a sucker for depressing ideas.

So, we know demons can sometimes meet those important to them before going to hell. And though we never officially see what Kokushibo experiences before going to hell, we all want him to meet Yoriichi for a final reconciliation.

But what if Koku meets no one?

What if Yoriichi already moved on?

We see in the fandom that Yoriichi is portrayed as someone who deeply loves his brother, given he kept the flute long after Michi became a demon. But he also didn’t hesitate to kill him, even though his love prevented him from doing the final blow.

We often think he would stay behind to wait for his brother, wishing to be with him, but…

What if, after he died, he just… accepted his brother’s decision and moved on? What if Kokushibo is the only one obsessing over the other, and thinks Yoriichi will greet him in death but finds no one?

Everyone has moved on. His mother, his father, his wife and kids and even his twin. No one waits for him before he goes to hell and all the future lives he is reborn into, he is alone.

They’ve moved on. Only he’s trapped obsessing over the past. And when they have long left the cycle of suffering and reached nirvana, only Michi remains clinging to his grief and jealousy and desires.

His desire to remember. His desire to repent. His desire for forgiveness and his desire for their love. To see his twin again and make up for all the wrongs he’s done to him.

Yet, he never sees any of them again, in any life. And as he obsesses over this, the guilt and his desires clawing at his heart, he finds himself the last man yet to escape the cycle of suffering. The last soul to remain in the hells.

Cause to reach nirvana, you have to relinquish all your attachments and desires; including relinquish clinging to people.

In the end, he knows he was the only one thinking of the other. His parents moved on. Yoriichi moved on. But not him. And he can’t.

Just… I find this idea to be so heartbreaking, but it might just be me.

[just-a-sewer-goblin]

Butcher!Simon x gn!reader Part 7 whooohooow. We get the cofee date and more conversation! Yay

Also I'm dead tired, going straight to sleep after posting this forgive any spelling mistakes. Also please point it out to me if I messed up the description of the reader anywhere. I promise that's just because these are horribly self indulgend and I might slip up and put parts of me in there. But I wanna keep these as neutral and inclusive as possible because we all deserve to be self indulgend with these. Love you all!

< Part 6 | COD Masterlist | Part 8

Simon’s running late and he‘s cursing himself when he opens the door of the café he’s supposed to meet you at (he’s so glad you didn’t tell him to meet up at Johnny’s bakery, he wouldn’t have survived that).

He’s not even sure why he’s late and he’s glad Price doesn’t know about it, the old man would give him hell for not being on time, especially when it means making lovely little you wait. God, he can't believe he's making you wait, his chest tightening up slightly. What if you already left?

As soon as he steps in, he spots you and has to take a second to take the scene in. The café is cute and cozy; you’re nestled into a booth at the back anxiously watching the sidewalk through the window, your mutt laying by your feet. You’re probably looking for him and that makes him hastily walk towards your table. He really wants to kick himself for being late. Way to go and show you how important this is to him.

When you hear him approach you look up and your dog sits up, eyeing him. Your eyes are big and you look like you didn’t expect him to show up at all. Honestly you look like a deer caught in the headlights, like one wrong move might make you bolt (he really needs to tame you, put a collar on you so you won’t run).

Your expression makes Simon want to crumple to his knees so he might beg for forgiveness. His chest is slightly heaving from his race against time and you raise your hand in an awkward little wave.

“Hi…”, you say and hearing your lovely voice immediately makes his heart speed up.

“Hi, sweetheart. So sorry for being late.”, he apologizes and extends his hand for your dog to sniff. The beast recognizes him and deems him harmless, so he pulls out a chair for himself opposite of you. You already have a drink in front of you and you self-consciously stir the apparently empty cup (god, you’re adorable in your nervousness).

“It’s fine. I’m sorry I ordered already, wasn’t sure you were gonna show up.”, you admit quietly, eyes downcast looking at your drink. Simon’s heart breaks. He wants to cover your hand with his and tell you that nothing could keep him from showing up for you even if it means crawling from another grave.

Instead he starts taking off his jacket and says: “I’d never stand you up, sweetheart.”

That makes your eyes snap up to his and he feels his traitorous heart stumble over the next beat. A smile appears on your lips and he forgets what else he wanted to say when your gaze lands on his newly exposed forearms. Your eyebrows slightly lift seeing his tattoos.

Simon’s just about to grow worried that you don’t like tattoos (shit... maybe he should get a laser removal?) when he catches you biting your lips. This time it’s clearly not nervousness.

He’d never admit it but maybe he deliberately flexes his hands and makes a show of getting comfortable without his jacket until your attention is ripped away from him by a waiter asking for your orders (he could seriously knock the poor sod out for that).

When Simon looks at you again your eyes are on his face, your brows slightly furrowed and you cock your head (that would be the perfect angle for him to press his lips to yours). Suddenly he realizes that you’ve never seen him outside of the shop and you’re probably put off by the mask.

“You can ask.”, his voice is gruff and curt and he curses himself. He couldn’t have sounded more uninviting. This is just perfect, at this rate you'll end up leaving before you get your second drink.

“So… I assumed the mask was a hygiene thing but…”, you vaguely gesture to his face. “… evidently it’s not. May I ask why you’re wearing it?”

He barely suppresses a chuckle. Seems like you’re not as reserved as he thought. The pairing of your openness with your timid and shy demeanor makes for an interesting mix.

He finds himself appreciating your directness, something he hadn’t anticipated from you. Then again this date is for you to get to know him and decide whether he’s worthy of being in your presence again (apart from just buying meat).

“’s a habit from my military time. Now it feels odd to go without it.”, he explains simply. He doesn’t see any reason to be dishonest with you. He wants to get to know all of you, uncover all your secrets and hidden parts. If you find him interesting enough to ask about him too, who is he to deny a deity the knowledge about their worshipper?

You nod slowly, scrutinizing him. The next smile you send him is crooked and a bit apologetic. “Doesn’t make it all that much easier to trust you.”, you say.

“And seeing me would? What more would my face tell you?”, he genuinely questions.

That makes you pause for a second and he decides to go on. “People hide intentions behind expressions all the time. Now I might hide my expression but never my intentions.”

Instead of answering directly you look down at your dog.

“Well, Wraith likes you, which really already tells me a lot.”, you say and Simon nearly raises his fist in victory (he’s glad he didn’t forget to put some treats in his pocket).

Wait… “Wraith?”, he nearly chokes on his own spit when he repeats your dog’s name in question. Even after all this time he never asked for the name and never got a good look at his name tag.

Wraith…. a ghost. A ghost!

Your expression turns soft. Simon wishes you’d look at him like that. He’d happily lay on the floor by your feet if it would mean you’d look at him like that. “Yeah… Wraith.”

He watches you in rapt attention when you continue: “I just…”, you chuckle self-consciously. “I never found the idea of ghosts intimidating. And the idea of one of them appearing to you before or after death always sounded more like a guide or companion than horror and fear. Which is kind of what Wraith here is. Most people look at him and find him intimidating, they’re scared, when actually he’s the sweetest, purest pup and best companion anyone could ask for.”

Simon barely keeps from looking at Wraith again. To look for whatever you see in the ugly fucking dog. He’s glad he keeps his attention on you, because you look up, the slightest hint of embarassment on your face, the expression so adorable he feels like fainting (would you look at him like that if he called you his good little lovie?).

“I… sorry it’s silly…”

“It’s not.” Fuck why does his voice sound so raspy. “I like it. Appreciate you tellin’ me”, he quickly adds battling down the sudden urge to tell you about his own Ghost. He consciously keeps his hands from reaching for his mask and running over the skull print.

“I’ve always been afraid of ghosts.”, he admits and your eyes widen incredulously.

“You? You look like ghosts should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”, you blurt and he can already sense the oncoming apology so he makes sure he’s quicker.

“Thank you, lovie. That’s very flattering of you. Not sure how much these…”, and he flexes his biceps obnoxiously for you. “.. would do against incorporeal entities.” (Oh fuck was that weird? He was going for a joke but fuck that was weird wasn’t it? Shitshitshitshit you’re gonna think he’s one of those airheaded only brawn guys)

Simon’s about slap himself when you snort, cover your mouth and giggle, the sound settling warm in his stomach.

Then you seriously nod at him. “Don’t worry, big guy, I’ll protect you from ghosts. They might slip right through your big beefy arms but they’ll miss mine.” You flex your arms too and Simon bites back a grin when he's reminded of how much smaller you are than him. “Thin like trip wire, they won’t know what hit them. Literally.”

He chuckles, earnestly and from deep in his belly, and you grin at him, evidently more at ease. When you settle more comfortably in your chair, not as tightly coiled anymore like you might need to jump into action at any moment, Simon can’t help the protectiveness flaring in his chest. You’re too precious for your own good.

But you don’t need to worry anymore, especially not around him. He'll keep you safe.

You’ve got two guard dogs now.

[maidragoste]

hey hun! im sorry for your loss and i saw u post abt needing distracting. so could u write a jace x reader? it could be any plot you want whatsoever and could it be a modern au? as well fluffy! is that okay?

Hi, how are you?

Thank you for your message 💖 I'm sorry it took me so long to upload your request (in the end it cost me more than I thought to recover and then university and trying to find a job overwhelmed me) but I hope you like the result 🥰💖

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

It hadn't really been Jacaerys' intention to wait for you to come back from your date. He should be doing some college work but instead, he's watching TV without paying attention to it thinking about how the hours are passing and you still haven't come home. Your date should be fun if you don't text Jace anymore. Jace shouldn't be worried about you because he knew Rhaena would never have set you up with an idiot but he still couldn't help being worried.

Jacaerys wanted you to come home and see if you were okay. It would hurt him to hear the details of your date and see you all excited about another boy but he would bear it.

If only Jace wasn’t afraid of ruining things between you two then he would have taken you out himself after hearing you complain about how your love life is dead instead of letting Rhaena set you up with one of her friends. But Jacaerys is sure that you don’t see him as more than a friend and he doesn’t want to risk losing you so he doesn’t make a move. He's content with being able to be in your life, with the chaotic mornings of the two of you getting ready before going to class, with your text messages telling him everything that happens to you during the day, with the nights cooking together and with the breaks where you watch series snuggled together on the couch.

Jacaerys looks away from the TV as he hears the keys clicking into the lock. You walk in and Jace feels a pit in his stomach because you don’t look excited, you look defeated? Your eyes meet his and you give him a tired smile but you quickly break eye contact to take off your coat and sneakers and then run to the couch with him.

“So you wanna talk about it?” Jacaerys doesn’t even finish asking how much you’re already talking.

“It was fine. He’s nice and we talked for hours. Everything was going well until the end because he tried to kiss me.” If you hadn’t been busy fidgeting nervously you would have noticed how your roommate seemed to tense up all of a sudden. “I declined and he wasn’t bothered but it was awkward.” You sighed.

“Why did you reject him? Are you the kind of person who has a rule of not kissing on the first date?”

“Because I don’t like him” you declared, suddenly looking up and for a moment, at the intensity of your gaze, Jace forgot to breathe. “I could be his friend, but I’m not interested in him in any other way.”

“Oh” was the only thing that came out of the surprised man’s mouth.

“Oh,” you repeated, “Why did you wait for me, Jace?”

“Who said I was waiting for you? I was watching TV” he denied instantly.

“Jace”

Seeing your beautiful eyes looking at him pleadingly for a moment, Jace was afraid to give in and confess everything to you, as for more than a year he can’t stop thinking about you and wants to be more than your friend. But again, he’s afraid of making you uncomfortable and losing your friendship, so he asks instead.

“What does that have to do with you not liking your date?”

“While I was with him I realized that I actually wanted to be home with you” you confessed and instantly regretted it when you saw that he remained silent. “Forget it. I'm sorry for making it weird” You got up ready to go to your room so you could have a crisis alone about ruining your friendship with Jace when he took you by the hand and pulled you causing you to end up on top of him.

“Oh no, I don’t plan on forgetting it, not when I’ve been pining for you for over a year,” he stated making you smile.

“You’re a coward,” you mocked without malice. “Over a year and you never made a move. You’re lucky I decided to act.”

“You’re right,” he said smiling unbothered. “Now that we’ve established that I’m a fool and you’re the best, can I kiss you?” he asked and you laughed feeling delighted with him.

“Try not to sound so desperate to kiss me.”

“Can you blame me?” He arched an eyebrow, any embarrassment or fear he felt disappearing the moment he knew his feelings were reciprocated. “I thought a lot about kissing you and I finally have the chance.”

At his confession, you felt heat on your face and your smile grew. “You're such a fool.” You took his face in your hands and felt your heart warm at the softness with which Jace looked at you.

The moment your lips touched his Jacaerys knew he would become addicted to your kisses. He would look for any excuse to kiss you as many times as he wanted. You would probably become the clingy couple that his friends would make fun of. But he didn't care and he didn't think you would either because you were kissing him with the same intensity.

Taglist for all my House of the Dragon works

@chaotic-fangirl-blog @venus-flytrap3 @ajordan2020 @iloveallmyboys @sweethoneyblossom1 @fudge13 @crystal-faith @tita004 @ichanelvxgue @snowprincesa1 @joyouart @rosey1981 @alastorhazbin @papichulo120627 @apollonshootafar @jasminecosmic99 @partypoison00 @labellapeaky @rebelliuna @bxdbxtxh15 @impartinghades @thegirlnextdoorssister @angeliod @snh96 @aleemendoza2425-blog @natashaobo @watercolorskyy @nyenye @savagemickey03 @kishie8 @ewwwitsel @arabis-world @missusnora @nzygftoji @alisoncdariel @cookielovesbook-akie @partnerincrime0 @klara-lily @427120lxld @justhereiguess2 @buckylahey @wa801 @artistadistrada2002 @thelastemzy @justanotherkpopstanlol @yn-jackson @jacesvelaryons @pictureofcaroline

hotd masterlist

[worldofkuro]

Painted Smile

Painted Smile VII

<- Previous Chapter | Next Chapter ->

Pairing: Alastor x Female! Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: 4913 words... I don't know what happened. I'm so tired, it's 1 am but who cares, I needed to drop the new chapters. I really hope you'll enjoy it dears ! Tell me what you think of it! Because I'm dead tired there might have more mistake than usual, I'll check it out tomorrow.

“ And then I kind of kissed him through the blanket.”

You stared as Alice squealed with delight, bouncing on her seat in front of you. You were in your living room,sitting on your sofa, your Mother was out which made you alone with your friend. You just finished telling her what happened two days ago and she seemed delighted while you were… confused. At that moment you didn’t even think, you just… went for the kiss. It wasn’t even a kiss, your lips didn’t touch! You just felt the blanket!

“ And then ? And then ? Don’t leave me hanging, tell me what happened next!” begged Alice while she was squeezing a cushion against her chest. You turned your head toward the chimney’s fire. You were the 20th of December. Christmas was around the corner and then Alastor’s birthday…And you still didn’t have any ideas for a present ! You sighed, you were losing against the clock… “ Hey, are you doing alright ?”

“ Oh, sorry Alice, nothing happened after. He… reassured me and then he went home. But the problem right now is that I don’t have his Chrismas’s present… I don’t even have his birthday’s present!”

“ He was born on the first of January, right ?” You nodded and she tilted her head backward, thinking about a present for your friend. You almost scoffed, you trusted her but if YOU couldn’t find a present for Alastor, how could she do it? “ Hey, before I forget, I asked my parents if I could celebrate Chrismas’s Eve with friends and they said yes!” she clapped her hands together. “ You should come, and bring Alastor with you !”

Going to a soirée with Alastor..? You looked at Alice. She was indeed the daughter of a rich family but she wasn’t like those pompous people who thought they were better than anyone. She was open minded. She made friends with everyone, white people, coloured people, everyone.. And you were surprised her parents were okay with it. Maybe they weren’t closed minded people?

You kind of wanted to see Alastor in this kind of environment, you have never seen him all dressed up since you were kids. It could be fun ! But would he agree ? You could almost hear his voice saying he didn’t want to leave his Mother alone for Chrismas’s Eve.. You didn’t want to leave your mother alone either– Wait, that was it! You would invite Marie to pass Chrismas’s Eve with your Mother and you and Alastor would go to Alice’s soirée and then celebrated Christmas in your own house with Alastor and her mother!  

“ From your smile, I guess it is a yes?” asked Alice with a grin. You winked at her before standing up.

“ It’s a maybe… I don’t know if Alastor would want to come.”

“Mhn.. If he doesn’t want to come, tell him that John will be there.” she said with a teasing expression, like she knew something you didn’t. You raised an eyebrow at her, suspicious.

“ Alice… Did you talk with Alastor when he walked you home?”

“ Oh! Actually yes, he is the one who began to talk. He asked about our relationship, he seemed very protective of you, it was cute!” she beamed as she giggled. You blushed, looking away. “ But you think he would not like a party?  He seemed like he would be the star of the soirée!”

You did know that. Alastor has something that made people want to approach him. He was almost seventeen but he already had so much charisma, he was a proper gentleman. You weren’t blind, you could see more and more young ladies turn their eyes on him when you were walking outside. You wondered if he was aware of it? If he was, he never made a deal of it, he would just smile back at them if they happened to catch his eyes. 

You wondered how ladies would try to approach Alastor. You’ve known him for eight years, so you weren’t impressed by him anymore, if you wanted you would just jump on his back because you were tired and he would carry you home just like. No questions asked. You smiled without noticing, people might have found Alastor difficult to approached but for you, it was as easy as breathing.

You kind of wanted to see people trying to approach Alastor now…

“ Well, I just have to convince Alastor.”

~~

“ I’ll be delighted!”

You blinked, turning your head toward him. He was laying on the tree’s foot, seeming to be reading a book as you were sitting on the swing. It was snowing today, but you both decided to stay outside for a change. The forest was pretty hidden under a white blanket.

You went to Alastor’s house after parting ways with Alice. You did pay attention to the people around, but you didn’t see any man that would be stalking you. You were sure, if there was a stalker, that he would stalk Alice, not you. But Alastor has made you promise that you would pay attention so…

“ Really? You would like to come?” you smiled as you let the swing go, walking toward him. He put his book down and looked up at you with his usual grin, he really seemed excited about it! 

“ Of course dear, going to a soirée with you holding on to my arm? How could I refuse? And I’m sure my Mother would be delighted to celebrate Christmas’s Eve with your mother, as long as we celebrate Christmas with them.” he sketched before sitting up. He tilted his head and you couldn’t help but laugh as you saw a few leaves and snow on his hair. You sat next to him and began to take the leaves out of his hair. In two seconds, Alastor was laying back down on the grass but this time his head was on your thighs. He took his book back and continued his reading as you stroked his hair, looking at the sky.

What kind of dress would you wear? You never went to a soirée before, you needed to look your best, you wanted to impress Alastor. You’ve never really put too much thought into what you wore, you’ll have to ask Alice for advice… You wondered how Alastor was going to show up..

“ Alastor, what are you going to wear?” you looked at him, still playing with his hair, how could his hair be so soft to the touch? He didn’t move his gaze from the book, answering you with a teasing smile.

“ Why? ”

“ Come on, I was just wondering… I don’t know what kind of dress would suit me, I have never been to a fancy soirée. I’m scared of being… underdressed. “ and you didn’t want Alastor to be ashamed of you because of your poor choice of outfit. He stayed silent for a minute and then tilted his head backward on your laps so he could stare into your gaze.

“ Red suits you.” 

You stared in his eyes, the sun made them look almost caramel like. He was so lucky to be this handsome, really ,and he wasn’t even a full grown man yet. You pouted, looking away. How unfair.

“ Well, thank you, does that mean that the only color that suits me is red and I look awful with any other color?” 

“ Oh I didn’t say that. I just want to see you in red.”

You looked at him and couldn’t help the smile sketching your lips. Well, if that’s what he wanted. You took his book off his hands, which he let you do, still looking at you. You put the book next to you, on the grass. 

“ Do you think you'll be able to keep up with me if we have to dance ?” you teased him, raising an eyebrow. His eyes widened before he roared with laughter, holding his belly. You chuckled at his reaction, you knew that Alastor was an amazing dancer, you just wanted to hear him laugh… 

“ Oh my dearest friend, if we happen to dance, trust me, I’ll make it so you wouldn’t be able to walk for some days.” he winked at you with a confident smile. You laughed out loud, throwing your head back.

“ And I’ll make it so you wouldn’t ever consider another partner!” he took your hand in his with a soft smile, caressing your skin. You looked up as you heard someone coming and your eyes met Marie’s. She smiled softly at you, saying it was time for you to go home, she didn’t like you going home at night and didn't want you to catch a cold.

Alastor stood up, before taking his book. You stood up with his help, said goodbye to Marie’s and went back home with Alastor. Since the “stalker” evenement, he didn’t want you to walk home alone. You rolled your eyes at him but at least you could stay with Alastor a little while longer, so it was worth it. You walked together on the road of New Orleans, watching at the shop vitrines if it could give you some ideas for Alastor’s gift.

“ Hey, Alasto-”

You screamed as your foot slid on ice. You felt yourself falling before Alastor wrapped his arms around you and tugged your body against him before gracefully dancing around the freezed road. You stared at him, your eyes wide opened as he made you spin on the freezing floor, but you never fell, he was moving your body, like it was another part of him. You began to laugh happily. You let him take control of your body, letting him make you dance as he wished. Not too long after he made you drop, your head almost touching the ground. You stared at him as he held you firmly, your breath coming in short puff. He was staring intensely at you with a satisfied smile.

“ No matter what, I’ll always catch you if you fall.”

You smiled at him as he straightened you before offering his arm to you. You took it, as you kept walking toward your home and of course, as always, he leaned in to give you a kiss on your forehead before leaving. You stared at him until you couldn’t see him anymore and then you decided to enter your home.

“ Mom~ What would you think about celebrating Christmas’ Eve with Marie~?”

~~~

“ This is a disaster Alice !” 

You fell on your bed,head in your pillow ready to scream bloody murder. You haven’t found a single red dress that suited you. You hated every single dress you had tried ! And Alice’s soirée was tomorrow night ! You didn’t know what to do with your hair, with your makeup and you still didn’t have anything to wear ! 

“ I see… Well, it seems like it’s my time to shine ! Look what I’ve got you !” She took a bag from behind her and put it in front of your bed. You lifted your head from your pillow and opened the bag. Your eyes opened as you saw a beautiful black and red flapper dress. Your eyes were wide open, you’ve only seen this kind of dress with the riches folks. You stared at Alice, your mouth wide open without being able to put words together. “ I know you will look delicious like this, come on, try it on so we can find makeup and hairstyle to go with it!”

“ We can see my legs !”

“ We’ll wear stockings, don’t worry ! It’s almost 1920’s, come on!”

“ We’ll be in 1917 next month!”

“ That’s what I said, come on now!”

You undressed yourself before looking at the dress. It was very pretty and it was shining with so many sparkles… You dressed up and put on some heels and then you looked at yourself in the mirror. You looked… like a woman. You really liked the dress… you moved around a bit, it was comfortable, you feel like you could dance with it! You could feel the flapper moving against your thighs with each movement. You blushed a little and looked at Alice who was staring at you with stars in her eyes.

“ Ooh, yes! You’ll look perfect ! Don’t worry, I’ll have some similar dress, you’ll not feel left out! Now, the makeup and the hairstyle my friend~.”

Oh dear.

~~~

It was the day. You were in front of your mirror. You were wearing your dress, your black heels, you had put a red lipstick on your lips and a bit of mascara. You were so nervous. What if Alastor found you absolutely ridiculous ? Oh you couldn’t live with the humiliation. You heard your door open and turned around to see your mother, staring at you with teary eyes.

“ Oh sweetheart, you look… Breathtaking, your father would be crying…” She went into your bedroom and hugged you which you immediately reciprocated. 

“ I don’t look stupid ?”

“ Baby, no. You look like a grown woman! Oh, how time flies…you're already sixteen...” she smiled before you heard someone ringing at your door making you tense. It was Alastor, you were sure of it. Your Mother smiled at you before winking and then she left you bedroom, going downstairs so she could open the door. You tried to hear what they were saying but you couldn’t hear anything…

You looked at yourself one last time in the mirror.

“ Come on girl. You’re going to an amazing soirée and you’ll enjoy every single second of it, okay?” you nodded at your reflection. Great.

You sighed and then left your bedroom. You took a deep breath and then began to walk down the stairs, your heels making noises against the wooden stairs. You heard Alastor and Marie’s voice getting closer. You saw your mother at the bottom of the stairs with an encouraging smile. 

“ Alastor, come closer, there she is !”

You heard his shoes before finally seeing him.

Oh.

He was beautiful.

His dark hair was slicked back, he didn’t have his glasses on, he was wearing a dark redded suit and he was holding a bouquet of flowers in his right hand. He was staring at you, his eyes wide open. You both stood there, without talking or doing anything else. You took a shaky breath before walking down the stairs until you were in front of him, thanks to your heels you were face to face with him. He was still staring at you with a straining smile. Did he find you ridiculous, did you try too hard? You kissed him softly on both cheeks and you heard him gulp. What was happening to him?

“ Alastor, please say something…” you begged, looking down.

You felt his hand on your face, raising your chin up so he could meet your gaze. His smile was softer and his eyes still had this intense glint that made you relax.

“ I told you, red is our color.” he smirked before giving you the bouquet. You grinned as you stared at the beautiful flowers in front of you and then you looked at Alastor’s eyes. He didn’t even once let his gaze move away from you, it made you feel warm. You smiled brightly as your mother took the flowers from you, putting it in a vase. 

“ You both are so beautiful, but leaving before being late !” Marie said just after taking a picture of you. You took a long coat that hid your figure before leaving with your arm around Alastor’s one. 

“ I can’t wait to be there ! “ you said excitedly. You were still feeling nervous but Alastor by your side, it was getting easier to just be excited about this party. You felt Alastor grip your arm tighter as you walked into a busy road. You tried not to bump into people, and after a thirty minute walk, you find yourself in front of a huge house. Was it a mansion?

You knocked on the huge door and a butler opened the door, eyeing suspiciously but before you could even your mouth you saw Alice running toward you. She was wearing an outfit similar to yours, as promised, but hers was white and blue. She looked almost angelic.

“ You made it ! Come, come, come inside!” 

You walked into a huge reception room and there were already so many people inside. The butler took off your coat making you feel a little cold, so you just stayed against Alastor who put his arms around your shoulder. Alice introduced some of her friends, you could not remember every name, there were too many. Did Alice really know all of them? Some of them looked like real adults, and was that a band that was getting ready? You went with Alastor toward the buffet.

“ Well, what do you think of it so far?” you asked him with a tired smile. He took a drink and sniffed it before putting it back. “ What?”

“ Be careful, some of the brevage have alcohol,” he said before leaning against the wall.” but I’m not surprised. Your friend seems to be the type to always go big.  Being able to pull off this kind of soirée with a war going on? I’m almost impressed.” he said before straightening his tie. 

“ Alastor, is it you?”

You turned to the voice and saw a beautiful lady. She smiled sweetly at Alastor who gave her his usual smile. Who was she? She began to talk with Alastor, ignoring your presence. You tilted your head, it was the first time someone came straight at Alastor with you next to him. She seemed so confident, you almost envied her. Almost. You were a polite girl, you wouldn’t interrupt them but you didn’t want to stand next to them too long, it would get boring quickly. You took a drink from the buffet and sipped it. It was sweet, you wondered what it was. You smirked, you could already imagine Alastor’s face at the disgustingly sweet brevage you just had.

You should prank him. You took another cup and turned toward Alastor before being startled by the band who began to play music. You almost dropped the cup, that was a close call.. You looked at Alastor who was being dragged by the lady toward the dancefloor. 

Wait what? 

You stared at the scene in front of you, as Alastor began to dance with her.

What?

“ Oh, who do we kill before Christmas?” You turned your head toward Alice who was trying to see what you were watching. “ Oh… Oh, yes. Jealous?”

“ No! I’m just .. surprised. I didn’t know Alastor had other female friends.. Come on, let’s dance.” you finished your drink and dragged Alice who eagerly nodded. 

You both danced with each other, smiling. It was fun! The band was playing some good tunes! She gave you a spin who landed you into someone's arms. You looked up and saw John, your school’s mate.

“ You look beautiful like this…” he said as he admired you. You nodded with a confident smile. You didn’t know why but you felt like the most powerful woman right now! He smiled at you, before looking away shyly. “ Care to bless me with a dance?” You laughed, so formal. You took his hand and danced with him, keeping your eyes open to match his steps. You did stop him from lifting you in the air though, you didn’t trust him to keep you up in the air but thankfully he didn’t take it badly.

You took a look at Alastor and couldn’t help but frown. He was dancing amazingly, as always, spinning the woman before tugging her against him. You pouted, you thought he only did that with you.

As the party kept going you were getting more and more agitated. Why was Alastor still not dancing with you? You didn’t know why, but most of the time you were a good girl but when Alastor was included, you could become the worst brat ever. You walked toward the buffet, took another drink and went toward the band, you needed to look confident. You spoke to the singer and he smiled before making some place for you. He placed the microphone in front of you and asked you what song you wanted to sing.

You smirked and asked for a song you and Alastor’s used to dance on when you were younger. You were watching the crowd, took a deep breath and began to sing. You stared at Alastor who was dancing with another girl but once he heard your voice he turned his head toward the scene , where you were standing. You couldn’t feel but something in your belly, just like that his attention was back on you. You saw the girl trying to keep his gaze on her and you smirked. Not today.

Today you were selfish.

You sang like there was no tomorrow, the crowd clapping their hands with the rhythm of the song, you didn’t think you ever sang this good. You had perfect control on your voice, you were even dancing on the stage as the band were giving their all with you. You looked at Alastor who was still dancing with the lady, even if you could see he was getting bored. Well, you could help. You began to sing with more energy, the band making the rhythm faster as well. You could feel your lips sketched into a mocking smile as you saw the girl not being able to keep up with Alastor. Perfect.

You went down the stage , still singing. The crowd parted for you and you couldn’t help but feel excited. You walked toward Alastor, he had his back on you. You slided your hand on his back making him flinch. He turned his head toward you with a surprised expression. You grinned at him, singing before smoothly taking Alastor away from the girl. You both were encircled by the crowd but you didn’t care. Alastor and you danced, never breaking eye contact. You kept the rhythm as fast as you could, every step was nailed, every spin. You would have your back against his chest and then he would spin you so your face was inches away from each other. And then Alastor lifted you in his arms before throwing you in the air. You closed your eyes, feeling perfectly safe. He promised he would always catch you if you were to fall.

You fell down in his arms, your head near the floor but never touching it. You felt his breath on your lips and you opened your eyes, staring right back into his gaze. He was sweating and so were you. You were holding his shoulder, breathing hard. You were both alone in your own world. 

And just like that, the spell broke as the crowd cheered for you. You blinked and Alastor straightened you up with a genuine smile. You grinned at him before you both bowed to the crowd. You went back to the stage, giving back the microphone before going to the buffet, you needed some fresh water.

“ Oh my Lord, you both were.. I don’t even have the words!” squealed Alice as she shook you by the shoulders. You laughed at her reaction , it was just you being petty because Alastor wasn’t paying attention to you.

“It really was amazing.” John said as he clapped while you were drinking a glass of water.

“ That’s what happens when you let us do our things together, let that be a lesson folks.”  Alastor said as he put his arms around your shoulders.  You nudged him but couldn’t contain your laughter. You were having a great time.

You had other dances with Alastor, before people were making little group. You were sitting on a table with Alice,John,Alastor and other people you dind’t know. You didn’t know why, maybe they drank some alcohol but the conversation which was proper began to turn toward something more… spicy?

“ You’ve never kissed before? Hoho, you don’t know what you are missing.” said a lady to John who just blushed. The lady stared languidly at Alastor. “ And you, pretty boy? Have you ever kissed someone ?”  You were ready to tell the lady to back off, you didn’t want her to embarrass Alastor because he didn’t have his first kiss.

“ Yes, I have.”

Huh?

“ Oh, I’m not surprised. And you sweetie?” you felt everyone's eyes on you and you blushed. Even Alice had already kissed someone !

“ N-no, I have never.”

“ Well, why not remedy it tonight, just before Christmas ! John, was it, why don’t you kiss our adorable singer right here?” you flushed even more as John was looking at you, seeming hesitant. 

“ As if my dearest friend’s first kiss would be with such a boring fella, no offense my friend.” said Alastor sarcastly.  You frowned, why would he care! He already had his first kiss and he didn’t even tell you. You stood up.

“ I need some air, I’ll be back.”

You took a sip of your glass with the sweet juice and went out, in the garden. You heels hit the paving stone as you try not to burst out of… of what? sadness? angryness? You sighed as you stared at the stars in the sky, you felt the snow falling on your naked arms. You could even see the air you were breathing.

“ You are going to catch a cold.”

You turned your head toward Alastor as he took off his blazer, ready to hand it to you. You shook your head.

“ No, I needed… I need the cold air.”

“ Why did you lie ?”

“ Pardon?” you turned your body toward him as he took a step toward you.

“ About your first kiss.”

“ I didn’t lie, I’ve never kissed anyone. And unlike you, if I did, I would have told you but Mister Alastor doesn’t care to share such a secret with me, am I right?” you crossed your arms over your chest. He smiled at you mockingly. You felt anger sweltering inside you.

“ Don’t you dare look at me like that, Alastor.”

“ You’ve always been endearingly stupid. My first kiss was with you, in your room, remember ?” he tilted his head as he took another step toward you.

You felt your body relaxed. You couldn’t be angry with him. He didn’t know. He wasn’t reading the same book as you. You have been so embarrassed when he had catched you reading a love story but at least you knew what a first kiss was! 

“ Alastor, a kiss isn’t… A first kiss is something you must share with a special someone. Your lips need to touch the other one.” you blushed as you looked away. “ I think.. Th-The lips need to move against each other an-and..”

You took a step back but his hand found the back of your waist as he softly tugged you against him. You knew he was trying to find your eyes but you were so embarrassed by what you just told him.

“ So, a first kiss must be with a special someone, right?” he waited for you to nod before raising your chin with his finger. “ Then, can I give you my real first kiss?” You stared at him with your eyes wide open, your cheeks flushed red.

“ What..”

“ You are my most special person since childhood… For me, it’s only natural for you to have my first kiss.” he smiled at you, his eyes shining with that oh so familiar glint you were used to seeing each time he was looking at you. “ You don’t have to if you don’t want of course, but–”

“ I want to. You.. You are also my .. most special person…” he nodded with a soft genuine smile that made you feel warm inside. You closed your eyes as you waited for him to kiss you.

“ Nu-uh, keep your eyes on me.” you opened your eyes, blushing furiously.

“ You are supposed to close your eyes when you are kissing someone !”

“ I don’t really care, this is our first kiss, we’ll do it how we want.” he smirked as he approached his face toward you. Your eyes were looking at his lips then his eyes, you couldn't focus on something, you were stressed, you were nervous, you were excited. Your eyes were half closed when you felt his warm lips against your cold one. You looked at his eyes, his gaze piercing your gaze with an intensity too much to bear, you closed your eyes.

It wasn’t like in the book but you didn’t know why, you didn’t care. 

You kept your eyes closed as Alastor stepped back slightly , you could still feel his breath against your mouth. You opened your eyes and gave him a shy smile as he whispered.

“ So dear, have you ever kissed someone ?” you nodded. “ With whom?”

“ Alastor.”

“ How was it?”

“ Perfect.” you smiled at him as he grinned at you before covering your shoulder with his blaze. 

“ Come on now, the soirée needs its stars !”

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie @boogiemansbitch @sodavizz @tessemerick @slytherin4ever @kammsinn @alastorssimp

[omgfangirlland]

I've been reading about supernatural reader having a toddler with Dean. And I propose that her and Dean a child, though magic like supernatural reader, can't have a baby naturally for one reason or another so her and Dean make a baby using magic. I feel like it would add another layer to Anxious Dad Dean

(I'm assuming this is all one anon, and I didn't read this through, so sorry for any mistakes)

I'm such a big fan of neglected reader or just batsis in general looking like Martha y'all don't even know- I also have to get this out of my brain before I continue answering:

Reader: I'll get you a baby.

Dean, thinking this is some next level flirting and is shocked you spoke it with Sammy around: *stumbles in incoming traffic*

And the alternative:

Reader: I'll get YOU pregnant.

Dean: Promise?

I can get behind this-

So I have two thoughts- "amazonian" baby girl made from clay and "demon" baby boy gifted by Crowley with a hellhound as a bonus protector.

What I'm saying is twins. I have settled on twins.

The thought would start with Dean cuddling you in bed or on a couch, slightly drunk, after running around with the baby of the family y'all saved that day. Maybe a little jab from you along the lines of him looking nice with a baby on his hip, and him just straight up saying he'd love to have a baby with you, maybe five and a big wedding- "And one of those ugly dogs that the kids will get mad at me for calling it ugly".

And while he falls asleep with no worries, it keeps you awake.

Thinking it through- it was a nice thought. Having a family, a loving one and proving to both of your fathers that you can do so much better. But that was a conversation to happen while sober.

And it definitely happened when Bobby and Crowley were present, and whether they thought it'll be a nice gift or whether they wanted their kids happy (You can't get Dad!Bobby even from my cold dead hands, and I also think Crowley would get attached to you purely because of the zero filter you have) they get their kids a kid-

Well, a kid each. They both thought they had an original idea, alas, they did not. Bobby pulled out an old magic book of Amazonian rituals, and Crowley finally cashes in a "first born" contract and takes a pup so the kid(s) will be protected whenever and wherever.

Now- Dean didn't cry- but he was teary the whole time he held the two(and hissed at Sam when he tried to take one of the kids, honestly, he barely let you hold them, the compromise was you sitting on his lap and holding the kids while he had you three wrapped in his arms). You both were terrified.

Mainly due to the fear of turning into your fathers, but also- you now had two little creatures who despite not needing to be as baby proofed as a human baby, were still fragile little things that needed the best- Sam wasn't sure where all the money came for but when he asked you just smile and said vengeance(Crowley stole a few cards from Bruce and gave one to you).

You, after Dean handed you a blanket: No. Texture is nasty.

Dean, throwing the blanket at Sam who was pulling two carts filled with toys, clothes, 30 different types of baby food and formula milk, dog stuff, and books for the baby and parenting tips for both of you: The texture is nasty, Sammy, we need something better!

Sammy, tired from Dean's constant doubting of everything and anything in this store: I will teach your kids to bite you- (he did teach the kids to bite Dean on command and to give you kisses on another command)

----

Dean, face scrunched as he tastes all the baby food they got: Who thought green beans mixed with banana is a good baby flavor?... Who thought apple, squash and zucchini is?!

You, mixing something in a bowl: Banana and biscuits mush. Very good for adults too. (to this day I eat this, it's such a good munch but fair warning- it can be a texture nightmare for some)

----

You're a more relaxed parent, but you hold the kids more, while Dean takes the "check on the babies every hour to make sure they're breathing" type of parenting- helicopter dad? idk man is stressed and worried 24/7- He chills once they enter toddler stage, but his eyes are always on them to make sure they don't smash their heads against the floor (he's thought a few times during the walking stage to just put the rascals in helmets and rugby padding)

I, personally, would think Morgana or Cersei would be amazing for the baby girl and while I'd itch to name the kid after a prince of hell, I fear Dean would be too superstitious about it- so Lucian, Acheron or Anwir would be something he better agrees with.

Now, the kids are both mischievous once they start walking and talking- not in the brat type of way, but in the trickster "mom said only a cookie but if we entertain dad or uncle Sammy enough we can manipulate them into giving us seconds" type of way. And while the baby girl is the planner of the mischief, the baby boy is the emotional manipulator aka the one who lies better(I also think the boy took after you, quiet and looking more like the Wayne part of the fam but with Dean's eyes while the girl is Dean with your eyes.)

The quote marks around the amazonian and demon are there for a reason- they're not exactly that, but show signs of powers/inclinations. The baby girl has better reflexes than either of you and is more resilient but not to the point WW and Donna are, and the baby boy is more supernatural inclined, senses/sees ghosts and demons in their true forms, is allergic to holy water but not to the point it burns, just a mild itch.

So, coming back to Bruce and his parents seeing the babies, Like I said, Bruce would pass out seeing you with one kid, two of them? Heart failure. Add to that that you look like Martha when the light hits you one way(and he has flashbacks to when his mom died) while looking like his ex wife when the light hits the other way- and little toddler man looks eerily like him- the man is not okay. And the poor baby girl looking like the jobless, national terrorist you found in a ditch(his thoughts not mine)- but that's fine grandpa Bruce is in business- What do you mean you don't want him in your babies lives?

Yeah, he's delusional, not even a bit, straight up thinks he can tell you to leave Dean and you will come back and live here with the kids. Remember when I said Sam will throw hands? Dean will jump across the coffee table before he can. (Martha is cheering him on, but shh. Thomas is just too busy cooing at the young kids to care)

It hurt more coming from you than if the men(he refuses to acknowledge either Sam or Dean) were to call him a deadbeat who could barely be called a sperm donor.

Dick will have an existential crisis with Jason because now they're officially old™️and have niblins, and I think the info will break Damian in the Damian.exe has stopped working way, lil man just can't process that he's an uncle. The rest won't really be affected beyond being sad that they can't see them irl, just in the video the cameras captured.

Bruce in a moment of stupidity would probably try to go the cps route but like- he doesn't know where the fuck you're at, and John C. sure as hell ain't telling him- "Nope, not fucking with people protected by Angels and Demons, you bellend. Lie in the bed you made."

The whole fam learns that what the police records say isn't the full truth, but they still don't deem the Winchesters as good people to be around- and Bruce is really only raising his tension by watching the few CCTV records of Dean slow dancing with you to some old rock music while Sam naps in the booth with the babies, kissing you like you're the most important person in his life- like even then he was mocking Bruce.

Peepaw Crowley starts fucking with the family when he finds out the shit they tried to pull by hitting where he knows they'd be the most inconvenienced at- the businesses, both vigilante and day business.

[pretty-circa006]

Unhealthy Attachments pt.1

Coach! Negan x Student! F! Reader

summary Negan, your gym coach, takes pity on you after seeing the way your peers treat you. tags mentions of bullying/ mild bullying, second person pov (sorry lol this is old pls forgive me) note this is an old WIP that i'm choosing to post because i haven't had time to write anything new (I WILL EVENTUALLY, I PROMISE, BUT COLLEGE IS DRAINING MY FREE TIME). this is part one of a multi-part series, maybe it'll even evolve into a longfic, who knows. btw you guys will have to pry coach negan x student reader fics from my cold dead hands bc i loooove writing these.

wc 1.3k

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆ 

You stood lined up with the other students in your PE class, waiting to be chosen by the team captains for this class' soccer game. It didn't even phase you how every other student was picked before you, leaving you the last one standing until one unlucky captain had to pick you. That's just how things went, you were always the odd one out. Even now, everyone wore the usual school issued PE uniform of a t-shirt and shorts, while you had on the sweater and sweatpants version- in ninety degree weather. You were just honoring your father's, the town's local pastor, principles of modesty. Being the pastor's daughter felt isolating. Nobody invited you to things or wanted to be friends with you for fear that the indecencies of their typical teenage behavior would get back to their parents by way of the pastor; and of course he'd get that information from none other than you, his daughter. You never would, though. In middle school, you learned the hard way to not be such a narc, but by then it was too late and nobody trusted you or even wanted to be near you. 

 "Over here!" you shouted to your teammates, wanting them to pass you the ball. You had a perfect shot to the other team's goal. Like always, they ignored you, but it didn't matter because they scored anyway. You didn't give up on trying to be a team player, though. The gym coach, Negan, was watching the game closely and you wanted him to see that you cared and tried to put effort into his class. Maybe it was because he was the only person who ever paid you any attention, but the fear of letting the handsome man down weighed heavily on you. 

"Guys, I'm open!" you yelled. Your desperation to be a part of things was becoming so pathetic that Negan had to direct his focus elsewhere. Maybe it was by mistake, but the ball came rolling your way. Hope blossomed within you. It sounded silly, but you hoped that even something as little as you scoring a goal would make your class like you again. You kicked the ball, sending it flying to the opposing team's goal. It would have made it in if someone didn't intercept- someone from your own team, you notice- and kick it directly at you. You didn't have time to dodge it because it had already smacked you square in the face, knocking you over. You clutched your nose as you writhed on the floor in pain, salt being rubbed even further into your wound by the snickers of your classmates. 

 Negan blew his whistle and called a foul. He profanely scolded the students about their bad sportsmanship and lectured  them on treating their teammates fairly. He helped you up off the floor and led you to his office with an arm wrapped around your shoulder. You sat in one of the chairs with your nose plugged up with tissues per Negan's orders after it started bleeding. It didn't seem broken, so he didn't deem your injury bad enough to send you to the nurse. 

"You can go back now," he told you once fresh blood stopped flowing from your nose between tissue changes. 

"Do I have to?" you asked with teary eyes. You were tired of all the bullying and just ready to graduate already. Your senior year was almost over and you were legally an adult, so why did you still have to put up with everyone else's childish behavior.

"You're all healed up. Don't see why you needa be in here any longer." It was obvious that he wanted you out of his office, probably feeling the same way your classmates felt about you. It shouldn't have surprised you, yet it stabbed you in the heart.  Your chin and lips quivered as you blinked back the tears burning in your eyes. 

"C-can I just stay in here?" you cringed at the way your voice cracked. He rolled his eyes and sighed. 

"Just because your sucky ass team is losing doesn't mean you can hide out here and skip class." 

"That's not why!" you pleaded. 

"Then why?" he asked. 

"Everybody hates me!" You couldn't keep it together after finally saying it out loud. You sobbed like a baby, tears streaming down your face and snot dripping from your nose. You were ugly crying but you didn't even care, it wasn't like you had anyone else's respect to lose. Negan got up and closed the door in an attempt to save you some dignity. Your breathing became short and rapid as your bawling made it difficult to take in oxygen. 

"Teenagers are so goddamn hormonal and dramatic. Nobody hates you, kid," he said disinterested. 

"E-even you d-d-do!" you choked out before going back to wailing. He felt bad for you. He saw the way others treated you and it made him feel worse seeing you long for the acceptance of people who rejected you and took pleasure in your pain. But that's high school for you.

"What makes you think I hate you?" he asked, genuinely curious. He didn't hate you, not even close. He just couldn't stand seeing you walking around like a kicked puppy-dog, it was pitiful. You tried to explain your reasoning, but everything that came out of your mouth was an incoherent blubbering, stuttering, and hyperventilating. He pulled you up from the chair and cradled you in his chest, just letting you sob into his sweater. He hushed you and rubbed your back in soothing circles. It was the best he could do, he knew his words sure as hell couldn't offer the comfort he wanted to give you. Your sobbing eventually calmed into small hiccups and occasional sniffles. 

"Why does everyone hate me?" you whispered. He wanted to tell you that they didn't and that's just how high schoolers are, but he didn't want to lie to you. 

"You're almost outta this goddamn shit hole, kid. Jus' keep your head held up high and finish the year off strong." He clapped a strong hand on your shoulder for added reassurance. You gave him a small smile before trudging out of his classroom and to the locker room now that the class was over.

...  

 Negan comforting you in his office that day made you feel like he was a safe space. He seemed to be the only person who cared, or bothered to do anything about how others treated you, even if it was just the bare minimum, you felt it was better than nothing. 

"Coach," you muttered shyly, standing outside his open office door in the gym. He glanced up at you from whatever work he was doing and immediately sighed. It was a miracle to him that you were oblivious as to why people bullied you. Here you were, dressed so matronly in a long floral skirt that resembled an old woman’s wallpaper and an awful knitted sweater. He knew you were a pastor’s daughter, but did you really need to dress the part. 

“What do you need, kid?” He asked, focusing on his work again. “Can I eat lunch in here?” 

“Why? The bathroom crowded or somethin’?” He joked. When you nodded your head yes, he immediately felt guilty. He motioned with his hand for you to sit in one of the chairs before his desk. You happily took a seat before offering him half of your sandwich. 

“It’s turkey,” you said when he looked at you strangely. He accepted the half and ate it while he worked and you sat in silence enjoying the change of scenery. 

“You don’t actually eat lunch in the bathroom, do you?” He asked. 

“There’s nowhere else for me to sit,” you admitted shamefully. 

“That is  fuckin’ disgusting!” You shrugged your shoulders and went back to your sandwich, embarrassed to let Negan see how pathetic your life really was. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. 

“Look, if you have nowhere else to sit, you can eat lunch in here.” You visibly perked up, a your face splitting into a joyous smile. 

“Really?” 

“Don’t make me fuckin’ regret it.”

next part ▶︎

[littlemissholy]

Not sure if this is where you take writing prompts, but I'd love to see your take on Eddie Munson x fem!reader fluff, they're having a calm night in at his trailer- she's reading some book (manga would be awesome), lights are low, and he's fast asleep after playing guitar for what seemed like forever. <3

Lullaby

Hi!

This is my first fic so PLEASE be indulgent and if u had any tips for the layout or anything go in my dm!

And so sorry for the spelling mistake im French and its been a while i've not writing.

Jim Croce is underrated and we love a man with a mustache.

Warning : Fluff / WC : 1960

It was friday, and you and Eddie meet each others in front of ur locker, like always, right after ur respective club, Mathlete for u and Hellfire for him.

"Ready to go? We gonna have to run to the van its rain deadly

- We're not waiting Dustin, Mike and Will?

- No, Steve has already come to pick them up, i hate to say that, but he really is a good mom.

- Oh my god. Eddie The Freak who compliment Steve The Hair. I'm so gonna tell him. He's not gonna believe it.

- I highly doubt that. You must had to survive until tomorrow." He reply with a devilish grin.

Eddie starts to chase and screaming after you towards the van while u speedrun under the rain.

You arrives before him in the van and screams to him

"I WON!! YOU LOSE I WON!

-'Kay sweetheart what do u want ? " Softly laugh Eddie during he starts the van homewards

"I want u to play me my favourites lullaby 'til i fall asleep.

- That's my punishment? Loving u and being sweet with u while playing guitar i think i can handle that." He reply while kissing ur cheek.

"Watch the road" U smile tenderly.

Once parked in front the trailer, you still had to face the rain again.

Now you were the two of you wet as dog, but safe in Eddie's home, he looks at u, and started blushing when he saw u removed ur Dragon Ball hoodie.

"What? I am not gonna keep it, its soaking wet, i'm dripping, im gonna get sick, u better be removed ur jacket too.

-..Yeah, yeah i know that.. " He respond quickly still blushing, pointing ur now white see-through Jim Croce shirt.

- Oh. OH. Now Mister is shy? Your shirt is also transparent with the rain and i'm not complaining" He gently slaps ur butt, and u giggles while u go to his room for changing ur wet Jim Croce shirt for a dry Led Zeppelin shirt owning to Eddie during his shower.

You were reading one of ur favourite manga, Dragon Ball since now 15minutes, and he joins u in his bed in his Black Sabbath shirt.

His lava lamp were the only light source who allows u to read besides an almost dead candle on his bedside table.

"Well hello hello there. Whats new in Goku World? He says while kissing ur shin

- Goku just met Karin. She's a cat who is a Master of Martial Arts. I think she looks like Yoda. And u had a common point with Goku u two loves to looks panties.

- That's my man. And Coolest cat in the world. But i had a pledge to honor my ladie.." he said, taking out the guitar from behind the bed.

The first notes of N.I.B in acoustic began while u turns ur head looking and listening the soft lapping of the rain on the window. He continues passionately with Lord Of This World through you pursue ur reading, he finish with ur two favorite songs : Time In A Bottle and The Rain Song.

He had fall asleep again before you and you were brushing his dark curly hair with ur fingers again. He snorted a little but he remain calm while u tracing the line of his jaw. You looked at the window, then at the alarm clock : It stopped raining and its getting late 2:03. You could go to ur house with ur bike but u had to tucked Eddie in first. He opened his tired eyes and said with a gravelly voice :

"You stayed with me" Pulling you and hugging under the covers.

He had lost again : u were still awake while he slept on ur shoulder but u cannot be happier.

💟REBLOG LIKE SUSCRIBE COMMENTS LOVE SUPPORT 💟

[yonypj]

LUX IMPERATOR x BUTCHER READER

warning: mentions of dead animals, mentions of cutting meat.

You met him a long time ago, months actually, but you still remember it like it was yesterday. Sure, you were doing another exhausting day of work while cutting more and more kilos of meat when he showed up. Obviously, you tried to stab him and even more obviously, he had a lot of fun with it, but that awkwardness when you met.

Now, you're used to having the little tick that won't let go of you, you're used to waking up every single day next to him, you're so used to being with him that you feel your heart beat faster when he gives you silly little kisses on your face for fun, he irritates you sometimes, sometimes a lot but it's like he's a roommate who bothers you but is always there for you.

Your family works in the butcher business, your father was, your mother was, your grandfather was and your great-grandfather too, naturally you inherited the butcher shop, you learned from them how to handle huge knives, you learned where to cut the joints and you learned how to prepare and sanitize the meat. Of course Mr. Ring-a-Ding is by your side all the time, often inside the shop, and here you are again, trying to cut the pork that arrived, "poor animal!" Mr. Ring-a-Ding says dramatically as he looks at the pig there in front of him, sniffing while sad violin music echoes, "oh my dear, how can you be so cruel?", you just roll your eyes, putting your hands on your waist "you know he's already dead, and it'll only get worse if I take too long to cut him and don't put him in the freezer" your comment only makes the situation worse, which makes him sniff more and whine more and more dramatically.

After a few minutes he starts to want to pull the cleaver out of your hand, wanting you to stop preparing the animal's meat for sale "oh! no! let go!!" you almost scream when you see him jump and grab your arm that was raised so he couldn't reach it, after a while of fighting and complaining he grumbles in defeat, crossing his arms while stamping his foot on the ground, "you know, I feel offended with you dismembering a poor animal like him, look, he even has a nose just like mine, oh my sweetie, would you do that to me?" he grumbles again, as he takes the hat off his head and places it against his chest, big tears roll down his cheeks.

You just sigh again, tired from a whole day of work, your bones are sore and your arm too but... the look he gives you doesn't stop a small smile from forming on your face, you bow down, kneeling on the floor while your free hand would be his cheek, Mr. Ring a Ding seems a little surprised by something sudden like that, but still leans in with his head lightly on your hand, a small kiss is planted on his nose, which makes him laugh softly with his characteristic laugh that you have learned to love, "I would never do something like that to you".

Lux smiles, he feels ecstatic with the kiss, as if stars were burning in his chest in a strong and blinding light, he sighs, feeling your hand covered by the glove on his cheek, obviously, most of the things he does are just to annoy you, it's not like he really cares about an animal but still, he wanted your attention, he needed it.

Feeling your lips was something that made him shiver, he feels so good, a feeling that he can never really describe, every time he feels this it's only when he's with you, sleeping with you, watching you drink coffee, oh how he loves you, but now he has a new addiction, your lips, the feeling in his nose lingers, and the hearts around him only give away what he's feeling, his crooked smile only gives away how much you have his heart in your hands.

Sorry if this is short! but I hope you like it, a special request from @alegalcara, I did my best!

again I'm not fluent in English so sorry for any spelling mistakes!

[t00-many-eyes]

When Jon rests his weary head on Martin's lap, it feels like the clearest of revelations. The greatest of miracles. The ravaged world stands still – asleep or dead, doesn't matter, nothing matters except for the warmth of the cheek pressed to Martin's knee and the tingling of his stubble through the fabric of his jeans. Jon tosses and turns for a bit, looking for a comfortable position, and finally closes his eyes with a content sigh. The eye bags are growing darker with every passing day, just as the lines on his forehead are growing deeper. The world is at its closest to the end, and still Martin has never felt so in love before.

It seems that everything has been leading them to this moment – Jon in Martin's arms, tired but trusting and dear to him, so dear that his heart aches longingly. Martin reproaches himself for such thoughts and still can't help but thinks that he would let the apocalypse happen again, and again, and again, only to see Jon like this, to hold his hand, their fingers intertwined, to kiss the corner of his lips, to cradle him in his arms at night, hiding from the nightmares.

(They're both broken and crushed by fate, wrong and full of mistakes. Martin doesn't know whether they're going against what is destined, or right where they are supposed to be, whether they're going towards their death or a new life. He has no idea. Or better put it this way: he just follows Jon, no matter where he is heading, the way apostles followed Jesus. He believes him and in him without any doubt and is ready to die for him or with him, if it's necessary. This is how sick and twisted they are. At least, in this universe.

Maybe in another universe they weren't such idiots and found each other earlier. Maybe there Martin can kiss Jon every day and not fear lest this kiss should be their last. Maybe there they can just live – happily ever after, like in those fairytales. Maybe. Martin doesn't know. What he knows is that in this universe, in their universe, the sky is constantly watching them, the earth is soaked with sticky fear and blood, and they are the ones to fix all of this.

In this universe they are a tragedy, but Martin wouldn't change a thing in them for the world.)

“Your thoughts are too loud,” Jon grumbles, a quick green flash in his narrowed eyes. Martin bites his lip. He still forgets that his boyfriend knows and hears absolutely everything, and it is both exciting and unnerving.

“Sorry,” he says. That I think so much, that it seems to me that we have no future, that I believe in you like in God.

Jon finds his hand and presses his cheek against the palm. Martin chokes on his breath, as this act is so simple and yet so gentle that he suddenly wants to cry. (He never considered tears to be a sign of weakness, but he needs to be strong for Jon, so he just sniffles and squeezes his eyes, choking a sob rising in his throat.)

“Martin,” Jon calls out quietly, stretching the vowels in an oh-so-familliar way, and kisses the centre of Martin's palm as if kissing holy relics. No one has ever touched Martin like this. “It's alright, love.”

And just as saints on the icons cry with blood and myrrh, Martin is crying as well, soundlessly and ugly. Jon sits beside him and hugs his shoulders worriedly, kissing him on his temple.

“Martin,” he whispers softly, “my sweet, my dear, I'm here. It's alright, for now it's alright.”

Martin knows that nothing is alright actually, and that they can die tomorrow and no one will remember them. But right now Jon is right beside him, warm, soft and loved, and only this truly matters.

“Oh, Jon,” Martin exhales, his voice trembling, and it sounds more like a prayer.

Maybe, he is praying.

At least, his god will stay with him till the very end and will not leave him to die alone.

[yurinaa-world]

hello! can u do reader who likes to rest on characters lap? like whenever reader couldn't sleep but feel tired, they goes to character's lap while they're doing smth and reader sleeps :3 any characters but i prefer jing yuan n blade pls :D (its okay if u don't want to write this, i don't wanna pressure u haha and sorry for my bad english :'d i love ur works btw!!)

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: laying in their lap while they're doing things

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

Notes: IM SO SORRY I messed this up so hard, I wrote then I looked at the request, and I mentally slapped myself, If you didn't like this I would be fine rewriting it!

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

This guy literally doesn’t do anything all day, just has his eyes closed and just rests (Warning: I love making reader a very little dramatic when it comes to Blade)

Dead silence; he did not say anything to you once you lay on his lap with a smile on your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. He’s always been quiet, but right now, you're starting to feel the silence stabbing you from every angle.

"What aren't you going to say?" you asked, opening one of your eyes to stare at him from below. "Want attention that badly?" He gave you an amused look, looking down on you as if you were some kind of little child. "Well, there's no fun if I just lay here," you pouted, looking at the ceiling as well as at him, his fingers going through your hair. He's figured out what you want from him—attention, of course—yet he just does what you want him to do, or you'll complain about it all day.

So instead, he stays silent and plays with your hair, but his hand moves to your face, creasing your lips with his calloused fingers. "You're such a pain," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you and then moving away before saying, "Yes, yes, you kiss someone you find annoying." You rolled your eyes, closed your eyes again, and sighed loudly.

"I know, bladie, you can't keep yours off; no man can!" You laugh, obviously joking.

What a personality you have.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

“How needy, hmm? What a pleasure it was to spend time with you. a pity I have work to do." Jing Yuan teased while you lay in his lap, watching him from above: reading his boring yet important paper, “You offered and I took it; you know it’s unkind to decline someone." You responded by tracing shapes on the thigh you’re lying on.

"If you don’t want me, then I'll" you cut off before you could even finish your sentence. “No need; you’ve already come, so you're going to stay like this." He said before turning the page of his paper, "I was just joking." He said while ruffling through your hair, making you frown a little, that he messed with your hair.

You both lay in silence. You broke first, asking, “When do you think your paperwork is going to be finished?" He chuckled at your comment.

"A couple of hours, it seems."

“Hurry it up, and I’ll give you a gift."

You stated matter of factly crossing your arms in front of your chest, “What kind of gift?” He asked curiously, looking down at you, and you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s a surprise. Do it and find out,” he chuckled at your words.

"Alright, I'll take your word, but this better be a good gift since I'm working so hard for you, hmm, don’t you think?"

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