#that ought to fix him no worries

[magnusbae]

he is off duty, for once (ˊᵕˋ)੭* ̀

[bloodlust-1]

| ⊱The Sin of Jealousy⊰ |

Gale x fem Tav — 18+ Explicit

Summary: Jealous Gale has something to prove. Wyll is getting a little too touchy for his liking, and Gale is out to prove a point to Tav. That she is his. Casting a mage hand to overpower her in a way she's never seen.

T/W: Smut!

Notes: Jealous Gale? Lives rent free.

This was fucking bullshit. Gale puffed his cheeks out, in an annoyed scuff. He was good at controlling his anger, for the most part. But when it came to Tav, his new beloved, something just clicked.

Jealous eyes pierced Wyll as he conversed with Tav. He joked, smiled, hells, he even touched her shoulder several times. Gale crossed his arms while his eyes fixed on Tav across the camp.

A surge of frustration burned into his eyes at the sight of Tav's face growing red with every gesture Wyll had to offer. Each time her eyes would lock with Gale's across the fire, awkwardly smiling. She mouthed 'It's okay' upon seeing Gale's uneasy posture.

He chuckled at the thought, surely it wasn't okay. Even if Tav declined his gestures, it still burned a hole in his chest. But in reality, Gale was overthinking every little interaction and filling his own head with junk.

Gale rolled his eyes while he watched Wyll and Tav. He had enough, without making a scene he walked past the two, locking eyes with Tav in a frustrated expression.

Awkwardly, Tav half smiled at Wyll, “Well, I’m happy all is well for the night. If you’ll excuse me.” She politely excused herself before walking where Gale was headed.

Gale followed the small trail into the woods that led to a lake. When she caught up to him, he was sitting on the shoreline, playing with the sand between his hands.

Tav quietly approached him, placing her hand on his shoulder, "I didn't mean to make you upset with Wyll." She softly spoke out, sinking herself onto the sand next to him.

Gale stopped playing with the sand and gazed out onto the sparkling water against the moonlight. "It was not you I am annoyed at." He sighed, "It is because of you that I am frustrated."

Tav tilted her head in confusion, allowing him to explain himself, "Wyll, he is a charming man. Seeing him make your cheeks flush the way I do, it drives me mad."

After his failed relationship, Gale wanted nothing more than to share his whole being with someone. He worried about losing Tav, and Wyll triggered a deep feeling of possessiveness. Tav was his.

Gale's demeanor went dark, and he reached out her hand, grasping Tav's wrist, "If he can not see that you are mine, then I'll have to prove it to everyone."

Tav's pupils widened to his cunning words, "Gale-"

He cut off her words with a needy kiss. He quickly parted Tav's lips with his tongue, wrestling his against her own. The kiss was sloppy and desperate. An adrenaline rush ran in Tav's veins. Never was Gale like this, and fuck was it a pleasant surprise. The feeling of the man she loved most dominated her like a toy was so intoxicating.

Her mouth parted willingly to his force, completely submitting under the sudden anger-driven kiss. Gale wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling Tav onto his lap. Tav’s hands found the sides of his face and tugged his jaw closer to hers.

"Oh no, no, my love." Gale ripped his lips away from her. "You're to be punished." Gale gracefully waved his hands in the air, a string of purple dust formed into a mage hand. The magic restrained Tav's wrist behind her back in an iron grip.

She tugged her arms unsuccessfully twice before looking up at Gale, eyes full of lust and confusion, "I-I don't understand."

He leaned back, pushing his palms into the sand as Tav sat on the growing bulge in his pants, "What's not the understand, my love?" Gale's eyes eagerly stared at her cleavage from her low-cut shirt. "The way he touched your shoulders with lust in his eyes. You thought it was just 'Okay'". Gale shook his head in a deadly, playful chuckle, "I ought to teach you a lesson."

With an angered rasp in his voice, he commanded her, "Grind your hips." The anticipation for her touch grew hotter under his pants.

Tav bit her lower lip, and a slight embarrassment filled her chest. It was like a different person possessed Gale, and it was jealousy fueling his angered desire for her body. Tav dug her knees into the sand before rocking her hips back and forth against his crotch.

She could feel his thickness poking her inner thighs with each stroke she took. Lust and pleasure left a hazy look on his face, never taking his eyes off her. He noticed how she bit her lips harder each time his bulge brushed over her core. The way her eyes slanted half opened from the pressure against her clit made his heart skip a beat.

Gale's fingers moved slowly and delicately, carefully unraveling the lace that bound her shirt together. As it loosened, the fabric slowly slid off her shoulders, exposing her bare chest to the chill of the night air. Her nipples had already hardened, almost as if anticipating his touch. He couldn't contain the desire that rose in him. "You are so beautiful," he murmured before leaning in and taking one of her nipples between his lips.

His tongue circled the tight bud, sending a wave of pleasure through her body. He could feel her heartbeat quicken, and he continued to lavish her with attention, his mouth exploring her body with hunger and passion.

Tav let out small, desperate whimpers, her body yearning for more of Gale's touch. He responded to her plea, tracing circles around her nipple with his tongue. His movements were full of hunger as he pressed his teeth into her skin, grinding it against them roughly.

Again, Tav tried to rip her wrist away from the mage's grip, but to no avail. Gale noticed this and pulled away. His voice, low and husky, came to her ear as he said, "Patience." The warmth of his hand radiated through her, and she felt a shiver run down her spine.

Tav rocked her hips harder against him, which rewarded her with small groans from Gale. His eyes shut tightly from the pressure. They continued to dry hump each other, and Gale's eyes trailed down to her pants. There was a damp spot on her crotch, and he grinned at the sight, "You're so unbelievably hot."

Gale's hand moved without conscious thought, working quickly to undo the button of her pants and exposing her bare body. Her core was already glistening with desire, and the sight of it made him take a sharp breath. His fingers eagerly explored the warmth of her core, tracing circles around her most sensitive area and sending jolts of pleasure coursing through her body. Tav moaned out in bliss as his touch became more focused, rubbing her clit in a way that made her body tremble with delight.

His mouth worked at Tav's neck as his fingers pleasured her. Gale sucked and ground his teeth on her nape. He littered her skin with hickeys and bruises that were impossible to hide. This is what he meant by proving it to everyone. He made sure Tav was unable to hide these.

A pain and pleasure mixed in her whines. Her hands grew numb to the tightness of the mage's hold. Tav gave Gale pleading eyes, "It hurts..."

He chuckled in amusement, "You are going to have to do more than sad eyes to change my mind." Tav moaned again while Gale skillfully rubbed her clit faster and faster; just the way she liked it. The pain of her hands melted away as she surrendered to the pleasure.

Hunched over her, panting and moaning, Tav felt the pleasure building up inside her, tingling through her legs and toes. She subconsciously wondered if anyone could hear her with how loud her cries were. "Gale, w-what if they hear us?" A wave of red painted her cheeks.

Gale was unphased, "Let them."

He moved with intention and purpose as he slowly unbuttoned his shirt and lowered his zipper. His clothing hung off of his body like a forgotten memory as he returned his hands to Tav's hips. Lifting her body up just enough for his access. His fingers squeezed the soft curves of her body as he positioned himself at her entrance. His hard length throbbed with anticipation as he aligned himself, ready to enter her warmth.

Sighs of relief synced together as he pushed his full length into her. Her walls clenched around him tightly at first. Gale then laid back, glaring up at Tav's naked body in awe, "I want you to fuck me." He commanded and as he wished.

She began to eagerly thrust her hips against him, desperate for pleasure. As she moved, her body twitched and bounced with every push, causing a soft whimper to escape her lips. Gale was captivated by the sight of her and dug his fingertips into her ass, making her wince in delight. He held her tightly, forcing her hips closer and harder against him. She wanted to make him happy and did her best to ride him, giving him all the pleasure she could.

"Fuck- good girl." He gritted his teeth, his eyes practically rolling in the back of his head.

He couldn't contain his excitement any longer, so he started to move faster and harder against her own motion. The intensity of his thrusts was causing Tav to tip over, and soon she was falling onto his chest, her face pressed against his chiseled skin.

His touch was driving her wild, and her moans of pleasure were muffled against his chest as she surrendered to his constant passionate drilling. Her body was trembling with pleasure, and she was drooling. Tav allowed herself to get completely lost in the moment.

Gale and Tav moved in perfect harmony, their bodies entwined as he thrust into her core with vigorous intensity. In one swift, fluid motion, he pushed Tav off and commanded her to kneel, her face pressed firmly against the ground. With empathy, Gale snapped his fingers, commanding the mage's hand to cover her mouth to muffle her cries.

Tav tried to push herself up with her arms, wincing in pain at the soreness in her wrists. Before she could get her bearings, she felt Gale's long body pressing against her again. Despite her best efforts, she was powerless against his relentless thrusting. Her hands and knees were soon aching from the pressure of the sand beneath her, and Tav couldn't help but let out a muffled, sticky cry of pain against the mage's hand. Gale's grip on her hips forcibly held her in place.

Gale's eyes filled with the reality of Tav's ass bouncing against his groin, and fuck did it excite him more than ever. He was overwhelmed as he heard her muffled moans grow louder. Her body quaked with each thrust, pushing Tav further and further into the sand. With each thrust, her eyes fluttered shut and she succumbed to the pleasure he was providing her.

Tears whelmed in her eyes in bliss, and it only made Gale want her more. He continued to drive into her with an intensity that he had never felt before, pushing her higher and higher with every stroke.

Her walls began to twitch and clench around his cock. Gale felt the climax burn deep in him and he would only release once Tav was at her climax too. He leaned over and planted kisses and hickeys on her back. He groaned sweetly into her skin. Gods, he loved her. He never wanted to lose this.

His thrusts became sloppier and slower. Tav muffled between the magic hand, "I-I'm going to- Nghh! Cum-" Her voice huskily rang in his ears. In full force, he pushed into Tav for the final time before her walls spasmed around his length, receiving the warmth of his cum inside her as well.

Tav felt the mage's hand slowly faded into the air, leaving her panting for oxygen. She was overwhelmed by a sense of relief, yet her heart was still racing with the thrill of what had just happened. Suddenly, she felt the comforting embrace of Gale's arms around her body, providing her with a sense of security. Both of their hearts were pounding in their chests, with their bodies covered in a thin sheen of sweat and their kneecaps feeling tender from the hard ground.

Gale breathed heavily against the back of Tav's neck, letting out a deep sigh of relief. He spoke firmly and with conviction, his voice ringing in Tav's ears. "I hope you've learned now: you are mine. Mind, body, and soul. No one else can claim you. You belong to me and only me."

She nodded eagerly. It was the best fuck she ever had, and maybe she'll defy him more often if this is the outcome, "It was amazing...maybe I'll consider standing by Wyll more often if it'll make you fuck me like this." Tav teased with a smile.

He chuckled against her neck, "You don't have to do anything for me to fuck you senseless, my love."

What was I listening to while writing this? 😌🫶🏼

Any thoughts? Comment 👇🏼 I love to engage!

[writerracha]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ when you're spaced out — skz moments

↻ 1.5k (150-200 per member) :: established relationships :: mostly fluff. kissing, domesticity, mention of working out. a bit suggestive at times, but no smut.

↻ 18+ mdni :: not proof read, pls be kind :: masterlist

↻ it's my first time writing reactions like this, so I'm a little nervous, I hope some of you guys like it. 🥺!!

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

° . chan

“Love?” You blink rapidly, turning towards Chan. He’s standing next to you, leaning slightly against the kitchen counter. “Are you alright? You’ve been washing the same plate for two minutes.” You look down at your hands, realizing he’s right. A laugh escapes your lips as you shake your head. “Wow. I just zoned out.” Chan smiles although you can see the slight worry in his eyes. “You’ve been working too hard. You need more sleep. How about we accept we’re getting old and go to bed early tonight?” You laugh again as Chan starts to help you with the dishes, drying what you’ve already washed. “Actually, I love the idea. But why are you helping me? You already cooked dinner.” you pout. Chan kisses your cheek. “I just like spending time with you, whether it be going on adventures or just drying dishes.” You give him a smile. “And getting to bed early?” He chuckles, nodding. “That too. Anything, as long as I’m with you, my love.” 

° . minho

It is only when Minho waves his hand in front of your face that you notice you’ve stopped pedaling on the stationary bike. You remove your earphones, catching his amused smirk. “Oh, don’t laugh at me,” you pout slightly. Your boyfriend leans against the bike, looking handsome in his fitted black workout clothes. “What were you thinking about like this? I hope it was me.” You shake your head in exasperation, starting to pedal again slowly. “It’s just this song. Reminded me of that time at the beach...” Minho chuckles. “So you were thinking about me.” You laugh. “Yes, but not in that way. Just at how great it was to be there together, watching the sunset.” Minho’s smile softens, and he steps forward to give you a long kiss. “We should go back there next weekend. Just you and me. What do you say?” 

° . changbin

You’re at a small party with friends. Changbin comes back to you after getting drinks to find you standing in a corner on your own, your eyes fixed on the floor, a sad expression on your face. He frowns with worry, approaches you slowly. “Baby?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he softly puts a finger underneath your chin, lifting your face so that your eyes align with his. You blink, coming back to reality. Changbin smiles tenderly. “Where were you right now?” Realizing you were completely spaced out, you chuckle and take the drink he’s offering you. “I have no idea. I started thinking about the work I have to do tomorrow, and…” Changbin slides an arm around your waist and kisses you temple. “Don’t think about that too much tonight. Tomorrow is still far away. Stay with me, okay? And when you feel like your thoughts lead you away, just squeeze my hand and I’ll bring you back.” You look at him, feeling so grateful for him. “I love you,” you smile, and he kisses you in response, clinking his glass against yours. “I’ll always be there for you baby.”

° . hyunjin

“Angel.” Hyunjin gently takes your hand in his, bringing you back to reality. You blush slightly, embarrassed at spacing out like you are. However, your boyfriend only looks amused, perhaps even enamored by your startled expression. “Is the food bad?” He asks. You shake your head, putting down your chopsticks. “No, the opposite, actually. So good I had an out of body experience…” Hyunjin lets out a sincere laugh, his eyes sparkling in the process. He’s brought you to his favorite restaurant for your weekly date, and you know it means a lot to him because he’s friends with the owner. “That good, huh? I ought to bring you here more often.” You smile, taking a minute to look at him. He looks like a dream with his long hair and white button-up. “I’d go anywhere with you,” you smile. “Especially if there’s good food.” He giggles, gesturing you to keep eating. You take a bite from your plate, humming in pleasure. “There’s nothing I love more than seeing you happy like this, angel,” he whispers, tenderness spilling from his voice. 

° . jisung

You jump in surprise when the television suddenly turns off, stopping the anime you’ve been watching. You turn to your boyfriend, who is sitting next to you, your eyes wide in confusion. He’s frowning, looking at you with concern. “Why did you turn it off?” you ask him. Jisung laughs. “I’ve been talking to you for two minutes but you weren’t answering!” You close your eyes, shaking your head, feeling bad. “Ji, I’m so sorry…” He takes your hands, squeezing your fingers tightly. He feels warm and soft. “Are you ok, baby?” You inhale softly, shrugging. “Just spacing out. I can’t focus on anything…” He leans in to stroke your hair, placing it behind your ears. “My baby. It’s ok, we can just cuddle if you want?” You almost want to tear up at his sweetness, and you nod. “I’d like that.” He smiles, pulling you in towards him so you can sit closer, bringing your legs over his, your nose buried in his neck. His hoodie smells so much like him. “Does that feel better? Just close your eyes, baby, get some rest.” He keeps stroking your hair, his breathing steady, and you feel safe there. 

° . felix 

You’re staring at the wall ahead of you, completely lost in thought. You came in the bedroom for something, you just can’t remember what. Suddenly, you feel two arms slide around your waist. Felix pulls you close to him, your back to his chest, and he puts a gentle kiss on your shoulder. That snaps you out of your daydream, but you just smile and relax against his body. He hugs you tight, his cheek finding a place against your hair. He smells good, his fingers interlocked against your stomach, his body warm and familiar. “I was wondering if you got lost,” he says softly. You giggle. “I came to the bedroom and forgot why,” you explain. Felix laughs and the depth of the sound is like music to your ears. It’s your favorite sound in the world. “Blankets,” he reminds you. “For our game night.” You sigh, turning around to kiss the tip of his nose. “Lucky I got you.” His eyes are wide and full of love, and the comfort of his presence is itself a blanket. “Now hurry up. I can’t wait to beat you at that game,” he grins. You scoff, nudging him playfully. “You wish.” 

° . seungmin

You stare up at the ceiling, breathless, a thin layer of sweat covering your skin. You barely notice Seungmin drawing the sheets over your naked bodies, making sure you don’t get cold. He kisses your temple, pulls your still trembling body to him. “Look at you, all spaced out,” he chuckles tenderly. You hear him, but you’re coming down your high still, your body getting heavy with sleep. It takes long seconds before you finally smile, brushing your nose against his skin. His hair is a mess, his familiar smell strong and intoxicating. “I think you just made my brain malfunction,” you chuckle. Seungmin grins. “That was the point. You deserve peace of mind, my love.” Seungmin has just made love to you passionately. It had been a while because you have both been busy, but the both of you were getting cranky, and having sex released the pent-up pressure. You’re so in love with him - the way he makes you feel, the way he takes care of you. He kissed you so deep, so slow, making sure that every muscle in your body relaxed. Now you just couldn’t think anymore - you felt calm for the first time in weeks. “You can sleep now,” Seungmin breathes in your ear. “I’ll watch over you.” 

° . jeongin

When Jeongin squeezes your fingers a little tighter, you realize you’ve been zoning out and haven’t heard what he’s just told you. You look at him apologetically, but he’s already smiling. “Spacing out again?” It’s been happening to you a lot recently. Too much on your mind, not enough rest… Jeongin tugs at your hand, bringing you closer, sliding an arm around your waist. You’ve both dressed warmly for your walk around the park, gloves and hats on. “Yeah, sorry…” You sigh, rubbing your eyes. “It’s okay, babe. We can just walk, we don’t have to talk. But I’m right there if you need to, yeah?” You nod your head, smiling at him. Your boyfriend is one of the best people you know. You can tell him anything, you know that - he will never judge you, and he gives really good advice, too. “I know, Innie. I know. I love you.” His eyes don't leave you for a second. "I love you more than words can say." You let your head fall against his shoulder, and the both of you keep walking, interlocked, the breeze against your cheeks.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

taglist: @lix-ables – @iwannabangchan – @yeongyulix – @xcookiemonsteer – @imtoooyoungforthisshit – @bbujiikseu [ please write if you want to be added or removed or if i forgot to add you (it happens) !! ] 

[merakiui]

OHSHC AU where reader breaks a precious arrifact from one of the dorms maybe all but instead of repaying the huggeeee debt with hours of labour she has to pay with her body and can’t refuse :)

every kink in the book is used as she’s pleading with the dorm leaders for mercy, crying about forgiveness but all they can hear is that her mouth is very wide open and needs to be replaced with a cock or gag </3 poor reader doesn’t have time to take birth control! and none of the students at nrc know what condoms are oopsies!! imagine savanaclaw in their heat … oh boy rip her pussy! she’ll never know a peaceful day until graduation but even then one of the dorm leaders might take her with them to spend forever with them

Omg yes,,, ohshc au, but it's freaky and full of sex because those scheming boys now have a girl in their debt and that opens so many possibilities. Their methods in dealing with you would all be different, of course, but in the end you're probably getting dicked down either way. <3

I think Riddle's punishments are probably more old-fashioned. If you can't fix whatever it is you broke, then you will write lines stating that you will be more careful, that you won't break anything again, etc. Or he'll make you write an essay detailing why exactly you're sorry, why you ought to be forgiven, etc. T_T really, these are just punishments his own mother gave to him in order to push him to do better in his studies. Riddle doesn't know any better.

He thinks differently when someone like Ace or Cater offhandedly and jokingly remarks how unlucky you must feel. Good thing their Housewarden isn't some pervert, otherwise he could totally force you to give him blowjobs whenever he wanted all under the guise of "repaying your debt." Riddle is appalled. He would never stoop so low! This is Heartslabyul, not Octavinelle. >:( still, the basic concept is just a little appealing. So maybe he's got a small crush on you, and maybe it would be easier to get you to spend time with him if you had no other choice. He makes you join him for tea parties in the gardens, for games of croquet, etc. His hope is that you'll warm up to him and not feel so rigid around him. orz

Leona probably doesn't care as much about the artifact as someone like Riddle might. It has no sentimental value to him personally, so why should he be worried? Besides, it was pretty old anyway. But that doesn't mean you can get off completely innocent. You're the reason he's got more work on his plate now, what with having to deal with the Headmage squawking at him about it. He allows you to choose between two punishments: either you become Savanaclaw's errand girl and do much the same work Ruggie does around the dorm, or you spend every night literally warming his bed (i.e. let him use you as a pillow if you're going to be good and still and quiet). If you want an easy way out, you'll choose the latter. Besides, his bed is comfortable, big enough for two. And as long as you aren't a pain, he doesn't mind. (You are definitely going to be warming his bed in other ways. The innuendo in his words is not lost on Leona.)

Azul...... of course he's slimy and sleazy about it. Oh, you poor soul. How is he ever going to get over this dear, priceless artifact that you have so carelessly broke? Jade is there to oh-so-helpfully inform you of its market price and what it could currently go for if sold. And Floyd's there to poke fun at the unfortunate predicament you've found yourself in. But Azul is a resourceful octopus. He makes a grand show of contemplating what he should do with you just to watch you squirm nervously, as if he hasn't already planned it out from the very beginning. He'll capitalize on your being a girl and have you work the floor in the lounge. There's always an increase in tips and sales when you're serving the customers, and why wouldn't there be? A cute, helpless girl in a school full of boys is an appealing sight.

He's irritating, but he isn't callous! Jade and Floyd are there to look out for you in case any of the patrons get it in their heads that they ought to appreciate you through touch instead of simply staring. Your uniforms change with every new event Mostro Lounge holds. Azul knows his target audience well because he also fits into that same group LOL. So maybe the sight of you in frilly uniforms is appealing. Sue him. >_< he wants you so badly, and luckily (with you being indebted to him) he has you all to himself. :) after hours are a very fun time at the lounge.

Kalim doesn't see what the issue is. He's not mad, so please don't cry!!! 🥺 you'll make him cry if you're not happy... Jamil is just about ready to pass out while he calculates just how bad this is. And here Kalim is, not caring in the slightest! T_T but Kalim is more sympathetic towards you, not the vase you broke. Besides, he can just get another one. :D no harm done at all! There really isn't any punishment to be had. If you insist on repaying your debt, Kalim tells you it's all water under the bridge.

Jamil is the only one who insists this is a good idea, and if Jamil thinks it's fine then Kalim agrees. So now you're sort of,,, there in Scarabia. Jamil puts you to work when Kalim isn't around, but when Kalim is there he spoils you rotten. The complete opposite of a punishment. There's definitely dubious shadows to this, though. For all of the delicious foods and alcohol you consume, you wake with hazy memories, only ever recalling you looked into the eyes of...something before you fell. Was it a snake? Maybe... but Kalim is always there in the morning to smother you in affection, so maybe it's not so bad.

You are Vil's newest pet project. He goes in with metaphorical fork and knife and cuts into you with his criticism, all of which is completely valid. You were clumsy when you broke that artifact. You weren't paying attention to your surroundings. You were completely oblivious, so in your own world. Epel would feel bad for you, but finally he gets to relax just a little bit now that Vil's eyes are mostly off of him and centered on you. Vil is going to put you through a reformation of sorts. You will come out of it your best, most elegant self! A wonderful improvement from your earlier carelessness. Only then will he forgive your previous transgression.

You and Vil get on like oil and water. That is, you don't mix at all. You are subjected to curses left and right because Vil is so strict. Suddenly, you can't eat certain foods and if you try to sneak them you find they've all been cursed (courtesy of Vil). If you try to slack on the work he has you do, even when you know he's not around, somehow word gets back to Vil. That creepy hunter always seems to know everything you do even when you're alone. It's troubling. Vil likes to think his heart is an iron fortress, so it's impossible to fathom when he falls for you first (and so hopelessly, at that)!

Idia doesn't put as much value in that artifact as he does in his own anime collection. If you broke something from his collection that was limited edition, he'd be far more upset (and then proceed to pull out the second one he got as back-up for this very specific moment). But this is an easy fix, really. He has the technology to make it good as new and, if that can't be done, he can always build a new one. Upgrades are important and necessary in some cases, especially when things get too outdated. It's a little awkward having a real 3D girl in his room all the time, though. >_< kick his ass in the twst equivalent of Smash and he's looking at you in a completely different light (hearing you trash talk him is so arousing; he's never been more hard).

Let's say the thing you broke in this case was a gargoyle. You're not sure how it happened, but it's headless now and Malleus is just staring silently at you. You can't read the emotions on his face, but with the way Sebek is shouting at you to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness you think you're about to be burnt to a crisp. It's so uneasy and awkward, and all you can do is apologize profusely, insisting you didn't mean to break it. It's Lilia who comes to your rescue: "Now, now, Malleus. You'll scare the poor child if you keep frowning so. Mistakes happen, do they not?" Silver also comes to your aid, adding that it wasn't your intention to break this gargoyle. It was an accident.

So now here you are, the second member of the Gargoyle Studies Club, accompanying Malleus for club activities while he teaches you all about gargoyles so that you can gain a better appreciation for them. It was Lilia's idea in the first place. He is Malleus's unofficial wingman. One way or another, you're going to find yourself alone in the woods with Malleus while Lilia is in the bushes belting out "romantic" love ballads from the old ages. T_T someone put peepaw to bed... at the very least, it lessens the awkward tension between you and Malleus, and it even gets the both of you laughing.

[syoddeye]

consequence / ink

price x f!reader | 1.6k words series directory tags: alcohol, miscommunication (resolved) a/n: john is a down bad, as the youths would say. thank you to my beloved @/pfhwrittes for britpicking. ☕

her cast is gone. a sleeve hides the arm, but it’s clearly off.

john holds the door for a customer, unsure if he ought to take another step or retreat while he can. he tried to compose a text on the flight, on the drive, in the shower. a heads-up, a ‘hello, i’ve returned, i’m sorry, don't worry about my face when you see it’—but he couldn’t. somehow, he thought simply turning up would be better.

when she spots him, the look on her face says a text would’ve been the right call.

ah, well.

she glares over the other man’s shoulder as he pays. he’s truly awful because it only makes him happier to see her. if she didn’t care, her face would be a blank slate.

the man takes a short eternity to move to the end of the bar. john checks to ensure he isn’t holding up a queue he knows isn’t there, if only to buy another second—

“yurbeck.” she blurts out.

“sorry?”

slower, she repeats herself, “you’re back.”

“i am. you’re healed up.” 

“you’re not.”

the black eye he sports is ugly but faded. yellowish, with ugly splotches of blood still pooled beneath the skin. he’d like to say, you should see the other guy, but the bastard’s probably jaguar shit by now. instead, he shrugs. “looks worse than it feels. can we grab a drink when you’re off?”

she glances and frowns at her coworker, who’s clearly listening in over the noise of the espresso machine and sighs. her uncertainty is as plain as day.

“no.”

alright. damage control. he can fix this, he thinks, heart crashing into his gut. he didn’t leave her on bad terms. “listen, i know—”

she interrupts a second time. “we’ll go to mine.”

his mouth shuts, teeth clacking. he won’t argue with that.

~~

before you leave the café, you check your last exchange.

>> thanks for dinner the other night. i had a wonderful time. unfortunately, i won’t be by for a bit.

> ominous > prison?

>> not quite. work. i won’t be able to text.

> well don’t be gone too long > i might forget your order

it’s ridiculous, in hindsight, all your worrying over a man you assumed ghosted you. a regular you took a stupid leap of faith for. the shopping trip was a way to test the waters, and despite an awkward intensity he seemed desperate to hide and his bad jokes, john charmed you. even when you extended the exam to your place, he passed. no snide comments about cece or the decor. he helped with cooking without being asked. washed the dishes. it was a wonderful time. he said it. you believed it.

but two months isn’t ‘a bit’. it’s a disappearing act.

you say as much, as annoyed with yourself as you are with him. he quietly concedes he could have explained better. you tell him friends don’t go MIA for weeks. he laughs.

~~

“funny you should say that.”

“what?”

john stares hard at her profile as they walk. this part is always hard. pivotal. he puts it simply: “i’m in the military—special forces. that’s why i was ‘MIA’, as you put it.”

her brows raise, but she doesn’t falter. “oh.”

his lip curls. he’s been cussed out, fawned over, and ditched entirely for sharing his profession. no one usually reacts so little. it’s a divisive topic. everyone’s got an opinion. 

“that’s it? oh?” john echoes, trying to tease something out. he once listened to her harsh critique of the illegibility of packaging at the café—he cannot imagine her indifference as genuine. “you can ask questions, y’know.”

“okay. where were you? what were you doing?”

crawling on my belly through mud and fending off giant cockroaches. shooting. getting shot at.

“seeing the sights, meeting people.”

that withering glare returns, but it’s shorter-lived this time. she huffs. “see, i assumed ‘special forces’ means it’s the type of military business you don’t get answers about.”

“yes and no. i can’t compromise my clearance.”

“what can you tell me?”

he smiles when she sneaks a look, irritation giving way to curiosity. “i sunburn very easily.”

she snorts. “no way, not with that complexion.”

“and, i have thirty, forty mosquito bites where the sun doesn’t shine.”

john’s bruised cheek hurts from grinning as she laughs. this is the first time he’s heard it uninhibited, neither bitten back nor politely smothered by a hand. he needs to brush up on his humor. he needs to hear that sound more often.

“sorry. i’m a mess.”

john aligns their shoes and removes his jacket. it’s hardly messy. her flat appears mostly unchanged, except for the small mountain of citrus on her dining table. a single banana. she starts to sweep it into a plastic bin, but he catches a stray orange, and his thumb drags over an odd indentation. he turns it in hand, eyebrows pitching at the sight of a rose etched into the skin.

“is this…?” 

he watches her press a machine into a foam insert, then hurriedly zip a case shut. the look on her face clearly says he wasn’t supposed to see that. 

she takes the orange and shrugs. “something i’m having fun with. a new hobby.”

“solid work for a hobby.”

“don’t tease.”

“you’d know if i was.” 

she excuses herself to change after setting the bin aside, stepping over a wary cece. the cat stands guard at the mouth of the hall. unimpressed. he can practically hear the and where have you been?

john gives the cat a fond but tight smile. he’ll need to get in good with her again, too, it seems. he checks the water bowl before settling onto the couch. cece follows to investigate, her tiny black nose tapping his knuckles when he offers a hand. 

her aloofness swiftly melts after he coaxes her into his lap, though he suspects that the subsequent stabbing of her kneading paws is her brand of punishment. little thing seems to relish it.

“you can move her if she’s too much.”

his face lifts, and he wonders if the cat feels the palpitations in his chest.

given what he’s only just learned, he shouldn't be surprised, but the patchwork tattoos decorating her arms steal his breath anyway. the impulse to touch is instant. to trace every fine line and jealously ask where she had them done and by whom. 

he grips the arm of the couch hard, and cece pauses her biscuit-making, eyes half-lidded and judgmental. dismissing the cat, he nonchalantly places a throw pillow over his lap and scrubs a hand over his face.

the plot thickens.

“nice ink. didn’t realize you had any. makes sense.”

“yep. twenty-one. mm. no. twenty-two.”

far more than what the shirt shows. “any damage?” 

her head tilts as she cracks the refrigerator, pulling two bottles by their necks. “nope. don’t got anything there.”

john takes a beer as she plops down. she tucks her legs beneath, and he studies the artfully drawn black shapes on the one arm: a network of barbed thorns and flowers, a woman contorted into a skull, a mouse sleeping in a sardine tin, a stamp, and several stars.

“do you have any?” she asks, taking a swig.

nothing as lovely as hers. the first and last instance john had time to sit for a piece, he was clean-shaven and further from the thick of it. but she’s shown him hers; returning the favor is only polite. “one.” he sets the bottle aside to ruck up his left sleeve. she shifts, and the tips of his ears redden. fuck he wishes it wasn’t so—

“traditional. ha, had you pinned for the type. cute.”

cute. the ink has faded into muted tones, the lines softened. the mermaid’s once coy smile blurs into a vague shape, and now that he looks at it, the anchor’s shank is slightly crooked. the subtle, natural distortions of time make the mermaid perched in the curved arm of the anchor appear as aged as his face.

“can i?” 

she extends a hand. has she touched him before? intentionally?

“yes.”

her fingers follow the lines without an ounce of hesitation or hovering. the corner of her mouth quirks when john instinctively squeezes his bicep, the mermaid’s blue tail flexing under her thumb. he can’t tell what she’s thinking despite watching her pretty eyes. he simply laments he doesn’t have more to show her if only to keep her this close.

john’s focus narrows to the heat of her hand as it moves. he imagines five perfect ovals burning into his arm hair where she grabs and adjusts her view. that his skin might melt, and her palm would graft to his limb for all time, barring surgical intervention.

the first words out of her mouth in a minute are a bucket of cold water.

“six inches, right?”

“what?”

her gaze flicks up. “from the tip to the base?” a prolonged beat passes before she adds, “or, i guess, to the fins of her tail?”

she’s gonna be the death of me. 

“i think so.”

“it’s aged well.”

“ah. you’re taking the piss.”

“you’d know if i was.” she echoes. “i’m serious. i’m guessing it’s fifteen or twenty years old? it could look worse.” her nails scritch in a tight circle for a half-second, long enough that he might combust, but she pulls away and swirls her beer. “why’d you stop at one?”

“busy schedule. and i don’t want to be too identifiable.”

“yes. the chops are the subtler choice.” she smiles behind the bottle. “now i’m taking the piss.”

john thinks of precisely three responses to her cheek, none of which make it to his tongue. he sips slowly, catching on a slip of skin when she stretches, the hem of her shirt lifting just so. a tempting black line practically hooks his eye before it disappears.

“oh, you’re funny. got me curious, though. which one was your first?”

her legs straighten, and she pushes to her feet. “it’ll be easier if i show you.”

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.9 K Warnings: none Prompt: Let's see how Vixen and the boys will fare after the preparations of the prank... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 61: Mr. Blue Sky

“Shhhh,” Sirius whispered as Remus opened the door. He was holding your sleepy frame by the waist. Remus had been the one to carry you from the tower back to the common room, but he had accidentally stepped on a wobbly step on the stairs and almost face planted along with you a couple of minutes ago.

Thankfully, Sirius had been quick to sit right in front of the two, breaking most of your fall. The fact that Remus had stretched one of his hands to keep himself up had been of huge help, but it had also made them end up in a rather awkward position. Sirius leaning back against the stairs, you on his chest, sandwiched right in between him and Remus, whose hands were one on the steps, and the other around your waist, respectively.

“They ought to fix that fucking step,” Remus murmured after he cleared his throat. 

Sirius just smiled. “I don’t know, I rather like what it’s done to us,” he retorted. Remus would have probably smacked him if it weren’t for the fact that both of his hands were busy maintaining the structure and stability of the position they’d ended up in. Sirius leaned in and pressed a soft kiss on his temple before he helped him stand back up. 

He was moving you over to him when Remus held his hand up. “Wait, wait,” he whispered. Tentatively leaning on his foot, “shit, no–“ he finished while shaking his head. “Can you take her the rest of the way?” 

“You okay?” Sirius asked with a small frown. Your head was leaning on his shoulder and your breath was almost ticklish against his neck, but he was worried about Remus nonetheless. 

“Yeah, just. Probably a sprain or something,” Moony said as he attempted to lean on his foot again and winced. “Hurts though.” 

“Want me to help you up?” 

“Pads, you’re strong. But there’s no way in hell you carry Vixen and a 90-pound werewolf at the same time.” 

“But I have magic,” Sirius said as he pulled his wand out and raised his eyebrows. Remus gave him a look, something between amused and scared and then shook his head. 

“Just bring her up, it’s not that bad.” 

“If you say so,”  Sirius retorted with a shrug, that he later regretted because you groaned in your sleep. 

“If you wake her up, I’ll hit you.” 

“That’s domestic abuse!” Sirius complained. 

“If anything it’d be animal abuse,” retorted Remus and took a few steps ahead, trying to hide his wince as he stepped on his bad foot. “She probably slept like shit these past few days.” 

Sirius sighed, trying not to think of you alone in that inn, sleeping inside Rem’s jumper near the fire because you missed them both terribly so, but had resulted in staying far, for their sake. “I know,” he sighed and pulled you up bridal style as he walked behind Moony, keeping his eye on the boy’s foot to ensure it wouldn’t give in under his weight.

Once they got to the door, Remus opened it with a spell as Sirius shushed him since you were still stirring in your sleep. Sirius thought it was kind of a miracle that you hadn’t awoken by then since you had rather light sleep, but it was true, you’d had quite a rough day, and he just assumed that was the reason.

Remus pushed on the door and looked inside. “They’re not here yet,” he whispered. “You think they got stuck somewhere? Caught?” 

Sirius shook his head. “They’re probably hiding because of the ghost looking for them. They won’t be back soon, I think.” 

Remus hummed in return, and opened the door fully, allowing Sirius and you to get in. Sirius walked straight towards Remus’ bed and gently dropped you in the middle. 

“I guess we can just share your bed,” Remus said as he took off his jumper and jeans, to change into his pyjamas.  

“Like shit,” Sirius said. “We’re all gonna sleep together.” 

“She’s asleep, we can’t just snuggle up to her!” 

“Like we haven’t done it before?”  Sirius asked with narrowed eyes as he stared at Moony.

“That was different,” Remus said. “You were a dog, she was a fox. I’ve never cuddled her, only Vix.”

“Because she turns into Vixen before invading your bed every single time…” Sirius retorted sarcastically.

Remus sighed, it’s not that he didn’t want to cuddle you, heck he had dreamed of sleeping next to you and Sirius for the longest time, but it was as if he wanted you to want it too. He wanted you to ask him to cuddle you, rather than just impose the cuddles while you were asleep.

“What if she gets upset over it in the morning, huh?” 

“Would you be upset if the two of us jumped into your bed and cuddled you all night?” 

“Of course not! But it’s different, she’s a girl!” 

Sirius tried not to laugh, and he had to cover his mouth to stop the snigger from spreading through the entire room. “Are you for real?”

“And you’ve been dating for longer, I just got here and–” 

“Hey!” Sirius when he noticed Moony was overthinking, leaning closer and placing a hand on his bicep, squeezing gently to get his attention. Moony took a second to focus on the boy’s eyes and Sirius was patient, only speaking again when he was sure Remus was paying attention to him. “We want you with us,” he reassured. “The two of us” -he assented slowly- “we’ve wanted you for a while, we just hadn’t realised it.” 

“Sure she won’t mind?” Remus pressed. Sirius smirked, and kneeled on the floor next to the bed, levelling his head to your sleeping frame. “Wait–” Remus said once he realised what he was about to do. “Sirius wait–” 

But it was too late, Sirius had already placed his hand on your face and pulled some of your hair behind your ear –in a rather similar way to the one he had used when you had been in his arms after that dreadful night– Remus realised. Remembering just how eager you had been to stay on the bed, with him, not as Vixen, but as yourself. Perhaps you really had cuddled before. He was about to stop Sirius with his newfound reasoning, but the boy was already whispering something to you. 

“Hey Starshine,” he said softly, there was a warm smile spreading across his face. “Étoile,” he insisted after not getting a response. 

You open your eyes, sleepily, looking at him and then closing them again. “Yeah?” you mumbled.

“Do you mind if Moony and I cuddle up to you?” 

“But we need to get to the room,” you said, voice sleepy, some words dragging closer to the other. 

Sirius laughed. “We’re already here, we had to carry you,” he said softly. “You fell asleep in the middle of the prank.” 

“No, I didn’t,” you retorted in a mumble. “You were taking too long placing the bombs in the tower.” 

Remus suppressed a laugh when he noticed the small frown that was etched on the boy’s features. “That–” Sirius was about to argue but stopped himself. “Never mind… so, it’s okay if Rem and I cuddle you?” 

You didn’t respond, instead, you extended your hand trying to find him and started pulling him towards you. Sirius smiled and pulled Remus, who had already changed towards himself and changed places with him quickly. That’s when you managed to get a good hold of his arm and pulled him as strongly as your sleepy self managed to. Remus smiled and helped you by pulling the covers and joining you on the bed. Sirius was smiling as he looked at the two and pulled his jacket off. You looked so cute getting all comfortable with each other that he almost didn’t want to go to the bathroom in case he missed anything.

Eventually, Remus had settled on the bed, and you had gotten yourself comfortable on him. Yes, on him. You had half of your body on top of his, much like Vixen did when she cuddled with Remus. “You’re not Sirius,” you mumbled as you dug your head into the crook of his neck, feeling the comforting smell of chocolate and books.  

Remus was taken aback by that, all of a sudden he felt like an intruder, and he started squirming under you. “Sorry,” he rushed out. “Sorry, I’ll call him, wait–” he tried to push you off him.

“No!” you mumbled and pulled him closer again. “I like that it’s you,” you added, your smile tickling the skin of his neck. “You’re really good with cuddles.” 

Remus sighed, a relieved smile curving the tip of his lips upwards. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you confirmed and accommodated yourself further. “Did I ever tell you that you have really nice hands?” you slurred. 

“My hands?” Remus asked as he looked at his palm. “You hadn’t.” 

“Should have,” you said and hummed when you felt one gently running through your back. 

“Thought you said you didn’t want to take advantage of her while she was sleeping,” Sirius said as he stepped out of the bathroom. Remus had to do a double take when he realised Sirius had walked out completely shirtless, and Sirius upon noticing, smirked and pulled his eyebrows up teasingly. “Like what you see?”  

“You’re not sleeping like that,” Remus said as he threw one of his shirts in Sirius’ face. 

“Such a wet blanket,” the boy retorted as he put on Rem’s shirt. It smelled as great as Remus did, but he wasn’t going to let him know that he thought that. In a second he was on the bed as well, opting to lay by your side –technically it was the only available bit– and cuddling up to you, making you end up even closer to Remus than you had been before– if that was even possible. 

“Wait,” Remus said, moving upwards a little and causing you to groan and push him back down. 

“Reeem,” you whined, dragging out the “e” on his name childishly since you were still asleep. Sirius leaned on his elbows just to look at the sort of face his lover had made, he bit his lips, holding back a smirk when he noticed the slight blush creeping up Remus’ neck. If you saying his name made Remus feel anything close to what it made him feel, then dear Moony, might have just gotten himself in a lot of trouble. But the good kind of trouble. 

“Sorry, Luv,” he said as he leaned his head a little closer to yours. “I mean,” he whispered, now trying to look over you and at Sirius, “what if Peter comes? And sees us? Sees me with the two of you…”  

“We’ll just say it’s a dog thing,” Sirius said with a diverted shrug. And then looked towards the boy’s crotch that same smirk now spreading across his lips. “If it’s because of a different kind of problem then–” 

“Oh please,” Remus scoffed.

“Just saying,” Sirius shrugged and allowed himself to lay back on the bed, the smirk on his lips not wavering as he pulled his hands behind his head. “If she were to move that leg just a little to the right–” 

“Sirius.” 

The boy laughed, he had such a beautiful laugh, it was hard for Remus not to want to laugh along with him. “Just saying, I wouldn’t blame you. In fact, I think I could even help you.” 

“Help me? How on earth would you even–” The words died out in his mouth as he realised what Sirius had meant, his blush becoming even more evident now, not that Sirius was looking at it anymore, he had closed his eyes and had a rather satisfied smile on his face. 

“I mean, I’m not sure how it works with boys, but you know I can be very creative,” he added suggestively. “Just the other day, back when you busted in on us, I was doing just that and–”  

“Stop flirting, I’m tired!” You reprimanded, as you pulled one of your hands, searching for Sirius’ mouth and placing it on top of it. 

Sirius mumbled something inaudible and it was Remus’ turn to smirk, “Yeah Sirius, stop trying to get in my pants, Vixen’s trying to sleep.” 

Sirius would have scoffed if your hand hadn’t been on top of his mouth. Instead, he pressed a soft kiss to it and killed the lights with a small wave of his wand. You smiled satisfied at his actions and finally took your hand from his mouth, just sliding it down and allowing it to rest below his jaw, your fingers gently playing with the curly strands from the nape of his neck. 

Sirius smiled and leaned a little closer so your hand had better access to his hair. He wanted to get cuddles from Remus too, but perhaps it was too soon. There was a huge difference between joking about getting on his pants and actually doing it. Especially when he –unlike Remus– had no experience in that realm. He had never held a cock that wasn’t his own. Well, that and James’ but that had been an accident and both of them promised never to talk about it afterwards. 

Remus really, had not been thinking of that last night. In fact, he was so tired after the day he’d had that he had fallen asleep almost instantly. Unlike Sirius who spent way too much time thinking about how things would go around in a boy x boy relationship. He ended up concluding that he’d have to ask someone about it. Luckily, he knew exactly the right person to ask. And no, he had not gone for the logical answer –Remus– but instead he’d gone for the second most logical answer, the only other gay person he knew, Tom Harrow. He’d figured your relationship out already, why not contribute a little further? Besides, Sirius did not want to admit it but he really didn’t want to be the inexperienced one in the relationship. He had never been the inexperienced one and he was not about to start now. 

Regardless of how long it had taken Sirius to fall asleep, he had woken up without an issue, in fact, it was Remus the one that was trying to hide his issue, as you stirred, your leg actually close now. 

“Little Witch,” he muttered as he tried to move you a little to the side. Everyone else was asleep. He could hear Sirius’ soft breaths and Peter’s light snoring from the bed opposite. Least they didn’t get caught, he thought as he remembered Sir Pendragon chasing after them both with all his might.

Now though, he was the one that might get caught, and while you would have probably been understanding, he was certain he wouldn’t live it down if Sirius noticed. Not because he wasn’t understanding, but rather because he definitely wouldn’t miss the opportunity to tease him. Thankfully, he was kind of asleep. Unfortunately, you weren’t all that much. 

“Morning,” you mumbled with a soft smile as you propped your chin over your hand and looked up at him. You had a clear view of his sharp jawline and the very light stubble growing across his neck. You had never realised before that he had one, he probably shaved every day. 

He swallowed and adjusted himself to keep your legs as far from his crotch as it was possible –not that much was possible, not with Sirius still pushing you against him, even as he slept. Heck, he’d swore another Godric-damned person fitted on the space Sirius wasn’t occupying. “Morning,” he retorted, the raspy and slightly deeper undertone he had in the morning was as adorable as you remembered.

You yawned, “Did you really carry me all the way from the tower?” You asked. 

“Mhm,” he responded. You turned your head, it was still pretty dark outside, which meant it was either still the middle of the night, or ridiculously early. 

“It’s 4,” Remus said when he noticed you eyeing the window. You groaned and buried your head on his chest, you grumbled something there too, but it was muffled by his shirt. “You can stay here all you want,” he offered, getting the gist of the complaining mumbles. 

“No, I cannot,” you said as you turned your head. “I’m going to have to fly with Prongs and Puppy.” 

“I doubt either of them will want to wake up.” 

“But we have to,” you insisted. “It’ll be suspicious if we didn’t. They’ll think we might be behind the prank,” you added as you accommodated yourself. You didn’t miss the almost hiss coming from Rem. “Sorry…” you said while you turned to him again. “Want me to get off? I’m not sure what came over me yesterday.” 

“No, don’t worry about it,” he said with a smile, still his voice sounded a little strained. “You were sleepy.” 

“Yeah but– I’ve never been sleepy like that. Only that time with the potion you borrowed, I’d even say it felt like I’d taken something similar,” you said thoughtfully. “By Melin! That’s it! It must have been the Mooncalf milk!” 

“What?” He asked with a confused frown. He’d had dinner with you and he didn’t remember any Mooncalf milk in the Great Hall. In fact, he hadn’t even seen you drink milk. 

“You know how me and the girls had Oreos last night?” you said as you started to draw simple circles over his chest. “Well Lily and Mary were convinced we had to have milk with them, but it was pretty late and I was not about to suggest we sneak out to get some from the kitchen to the sweetest little prefect we have–” 

“Thought that was me,” Remus teased with an eyebrow raised as he turned his gaze back on you. 

You smiled, leaned up to him and pressed a quick kiss to his jaw, “I’m sorry, this is Lily Evans we’re talking about.” 

“Should I be jealous? I mean she’s a redhead…” 

“Nah, she’s taken already,” you replied equally teasingly. He scoffed playfully at that, and after a moment of silence, you knew it was time to continue your tale. “Anyway, I remembered I had a spell for transfiguring water into milk.” 

“Oh, no! You know how hard it is to transfigure food!” 

“It’s not like we were trying to make wine,” you retorted, “just milk.... The first time it was terrible, it was too sour to even drink, so we tried again–” 

“And?”

“Well, it was good! Lily’s brilliant at transfig.”  

“But…” 

“Well, both Marlene and I agreed that it tasted an awful lot like Mooncalf milk, so maybe there was something off with the spell, I don’t know… Now that I think about it though, Mary and Marlene were soundly sleeping way faster than they would have on a normal basis,” you yawned, your eyes closing down again. “How come every time I’m intoxicated with a potion I end up with you, or thinking about you.” 

“What do you mean every time? It’s only been twice. My painkillers and today…” 

You shook your head as you yawned, perhaps the sleepiness hadn’t worn off entirely. “No, it was three, you missed the horny potion at the Slug Party.” 

“I beg your pardon?” he said, turning to you again. “You’re telling me you stopped James from drinking a horny potion through those snacks?” 

“I’ve saved his ass more times than he can count.” You nodded. “I mean imagine if he had gotten a boner in the middle of the party, Lily would have been outraged, it would have been so inappropriate!” 

Like the one Remus was trying to hide right then? Would you also consider that one inappropriate?

Remus cleared his throat, “Yeah, totally.” 

Which is why it was rather unfortunate for him that you caught the nervous tone in which he had answered almost in an instant. You turned to him. “Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gotten one in the middle of a party.” 

“I won’t,” he said resolutely. 

You huffed. “That kind of just makes me think you have,” you said with a small frown and he chuckled, the rumbling of his chest beneath you making you feel quite at ease. 

He could have gone on and told you it was kind of hard to control sometimes –like for example right at that moment– but you looked way too sleepy for a male anatomy lesson. So instead he leaned over and pressed a soft kiss on the crown of your hair. The familiar smell he had yearned for, doing one too many things for him. “Shouldn’t you start getting up?” 

“No,” you said and clung to him a little more. 

“What about flying?” 

You groaned childishly at that, you knew he was right, you knew you had to get up, but it didn’t make you want to do it any more than you previously did. Remus was warm and big and comforting, you didn’t want to switch it for the bitter cold you’d feel once you were outside flying. Even with warming spells, his cuddles were better. 

“I’m gonna start thinking you want to get rid of me,” you joked with a pout.

“You’re the one that mentioned flying in the first place, not me,” he retorted. “For all I care we stay here and become suspects number one of the prank. I mean, if we all end up in detention together, I win more time with you.” 

“Ugh, that’s so mushy!” 

“Not my fault you fell in love with the mushy werewolf.” 

“It is,” Sirius mumbled, half awake now. “Happens to you because you’re so handsome.” 

You smiled when you noticed Remus’ heart pace increase, even if it was just slightly. And then you heard Peter stir on his bed, remembering he didn’t know yet. “Did you guys put a silencing spell around us?”

“No,” Sirius said with a frown. Rem shook his head. 

You sighed, “And here I thought the werewolf and his best friend would be a lot better at keeping their secrets,” you joked and finally pushed yourself off Remus, the covers sliding almost completely off him as you did, and he was quick as hell when he pulled them back over his mid-drift. But Sirius noticed, to Remus’ later dismay. 

You were now lying right in between the two, Sirius had been forced to scoot over just a bit as you wiggled for some more space. Your wand was somewhere with your coat, so you grabbed Sirius from the table and cast a silencing spell. You yawned and stretched before you sat up on the bed and rubbed your eyes awake. The window was still pretty dark, and it wasn’t helping you become any more resolute to get up, not when your two boyfriends were lying on either side of you, both stupidly cuddleable and warm. 

“Who cares if we get caught,” Sirius mumbled as he tried to pull you towards him by the waist. 

“Well I don’t want to be cleaning the boys’ bathrooms ever again,” you said as you took hold of his hand, pulling it from your waist, but keeping it wrapped in yours. “The smell… sometimes I have nightmares of that,” you added in an overly exaggerated dramatic tone.

“Yeah, sure,” Sirius said as he pulled you by your hand with a lot more strength, causing you to collapse between them again. He leaned to you with a small smile on his face, “Not even if you get all the cuddles in exchange?” 

“Not even then,” you retorted with a smile and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. “Come on, at least let’s go there for a few minutes, make sure someone sees us being obnoxious in the air, and then we come back to sleep.” 

“You’re so not going to want to come back after flying,” he said with a pout. He knew you well enough, after practice adrenaline was all over your body, you had never once fallen asleep after, except for that one time you had been drugged.

“Come on,” you said as you leaned over yourself and pressed another short kiss to his lips. “Help me out.” 

Sirius huffed but helped you cross over him to get out of bed. He noticed as you walked to the bathroom, Moony’s lingering stare and his shifting his hips again. 

“You alright there, little Moony?” he asked with a smirk, looking at the bathroom door before turning to Remus.

Remus cleared his throat, “Mhm.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t talking to you,” Sirius smirked and nodded towards his lover’s crotch. “Someone woke first, and it was neither you, nor me.” 

Remus’ eyes opened widely when he realised Sirius had figured him out, a sharp, but almost silent intake of breath along with it. Sirius just wiggled his eyebrows, the smile never leaving his face. Remus shut his eyes in a wince and then brought his hands up to cover it. “Please don’t mention it.” 

“Mention what? Your boner?” Sirius said nonchalantly.

“Sirius!” Remus grumbled, his voice muffled by his hands. 

“If it makes you feel better, I think she didn’t notice,” he added. 

Remus just kept shaking his head, drowning in his own embarrassment. Why wouldn’t it just… subdue? 

“And we are going to leave too, so you can take care of it while we’re gone,” Sirius added, the devilish smile on his lips being slapped off by the pillow Remus had thrown at his face. “You’re very aggressive,” he complained. And Remus huffed in return. When you walked out of the bathroom you already had your flying clothes on. Sirius smiled when he noticed you, until he noticed you were walking towards James’ bed, and not towards him. 

“Oi, Prongs, wake up!” you said as you nudged him with your wand. “This time I’ll make it rain instead of snow.” 

 James groaned about you being a terrible friend and threw you a rather disgruntled look when he opened his eyes. “Do you even know what time we got here?” he asked. 

“After us but before now,” you said with a shrug. “You can tell me all about it while we’re doing laps.” James shook his head. “Prongs, it was especially hard to get out of my bed, it was really fucking warm and comfortable–” 

“Bet,” he retorted with a smirk and teasing eyebrow wiggle. He might have been sleepy, but he was always ready to tease. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, “I’m not gonna beg, Prongs. You either get out of bed and we go flying, or I go flying, and you become suspect number one. You know I can already imagine Maggie asking me where you were in the morning and me having to feign ignorance by telling her you and Pups stood me up.” 

“Just him,” Sirius said as he stood from the bed. “I’m ready to go.” 

James groaned one more time before he shook the covers off, “I get the feeling this is revenge for the times I’ve woken you early.” 

Sirius stood just behind you with a little smirk. “And she’s got all the right to do so,” he said as he thought of all the times James had hauled him out of bed for practice. Especially in year two when he was determined to make it into the quidditch team and forced Sirius to go flying every single day (including weekends).

James threw him an intimidating look, slightly similar to the one you had done back when you had been polyjuiced into him, and it was almost as terrifying as yours. You were certain it would have made anyone backtrack at least a few centimetres, anyone except for the marauders, at least…

Sirius obviously wasn’t fazed. He just retorted the look with a small pout and then pulled out his tongue. James got up in an instant, thinking perhaps that could intimidate him, but neither you nor him moved an inch. On the other hand, you looked down and pointed towards his boxers, “Nice undies,” you said with a sneaky smile. 

James turned his head downward and realised he’d been wearing the ironic, but ridiculously comfortable snitched-patterned boxers Monty had gotten him for Christmas. 

“Bet Lily would love them,” you added just to tease him further and he turned to you with a mortified expression. 

“I’ll go change,” he said and disappeared into the bathroom.

“You forgot your clothes, loser,” Sirius shouted and picked up some clothes from James’ trunk and threw them his way when he opened the door of the bedroom. 

“Thanks, Padfoot!” he said before he closed the door again. 

Sirius sighed and walked over to his own trunk, pulling some clothes and shamelessly stripping in the middle of the room. It’s not that any of the people in there had never seen him only in his underwear –or without it– but Remus seemed to be rather done with Sirius when he threw his shirt towards his face. You turned to look at Peter’s bed, just to make sure he was still sleeping before you sighed and shook your head. We have to tell him soon, you thought. Your boyfriends were kind of terrible at being discreet.

James was out of the bathroom in a few minutes and the three of you left the room shortly after, you with the cloak, in case anyone saw you walking out of the boy’s common room. Thankfully, as it was with most mornings at 4:30 AM, the Gryffindor Tower Hallways were empty. 

Once you were in the common room you took off the cloak and placed it and folded neatly before placing it in Steve’s closet. Now that most students knew what awaited them inside, it had become the best place to hide things that you didn’t want people to take. Not that you didn’t add a small locking charm on the drawer you placed it in for good measure. 

The three of you walked outside of the common room not without greeting Lady McDougal as if you hadn’t seen her since last night. 

“Morning!” you said with a smile. “How did you sleep?” 

She narrowed her eyes on you. “There were people coming in and out of the common room with invisibility spells,” she responded in a rather accusatory tone. 

“Oh, what a terrible thing,” you replied with a pout. “And the Prefects?” 

She scoffed, “Oh the Prefects. One of those Slytherin prefects was here slandering all the portraits last night, even Nigellus Black was mad at him, and you know how he is with people from his house!” She said, her tone changing from an accusatory to a higher pitched, gossipy one in almost an instant.

“Yeah?” you asked with a smile, leaning closer as if to hear her better. Sirius side-eyed you while James looked genuinely interested –he hadn’t been there. 

“Mhm,” she said with a nod. “He was calling us old, and loud, and all sorts of nasty things. It was that long-haired boy with the disagreeable face, nothing like our beautiful Sirius.” 

Sirius positively beamed at being called beautiful, especially since he had been a “troublemaker” just a couple of hours ago. 

“Snape,” James sneered. He had disliked the boy for a long time, but ever since that time at the Slug Party where he had called Lily a slur (for the second time) his dislike had grown into outright hatred. Not that any of you blamed him for it, Snape really was an asshole most of the time. Even Evan and Barty had something to say for them –and you never in your life, thought you’d be saying something like that. 

“Oh yes, that must be him,” Lady McDougal added. “Terrible I say, he woke every single portrait in the Grand Staircase, some are still trying to regain some of their lost sleep,” she said as she nodded towards an old sailor who was nodding off with a smoke pipe in his mouth.

You shook your head as you stared as if you completely disproved what Snape had done –the hypocrisy of you being the cause had Sirius biting his tongue not to laugh. “Don’t worry Lady McDougal, I’m sure he’ll pay for his transgressions.” 

“Well, I believe Nigellus already went to talk to Professor Slughorn about it, he’s definitely going to get detention for it.” 

“As he should,” James said resolutely, and now it was you the one biting your tongue not to laugh.

Afterwards, the three of you bid your goodbyes to her and walked towards the storage unit at the pitch to get some balls for practice. Your hand was still slightly sore from a couple of days ago so James spared you from doing any of your normal keeper training and instead had you speed flying since you had always been so good at it. 

You had been right, the cold was bitter and it was not nearly as comfortable as cuddling your boyfriends on the bed but it was as exhilarating as it had always been. The sharp wind hitting your face as you cut through the air was like getting recharged. The sleepiness from before dissolving into the very air you were surging through. 

You did a few laps around the Ravenclaw tower, partly because it was the thickest and partly because you knew the Ravenclaws woke up rather early, so there would be more than one witness that the three of you had been out there doing your daily morning flights. James and Sirius were beating a bludger back and forth and even got shouted at by an older Ravenclaw who seemed rather done with their obnoxiousness. 

“Sorry mate,” James said as he shot the bludger away from their tower, Sirius flew towards it and managed to throw it back towards James that had now moved towards the owlery instead. You smiled and decided to fly that way as well. You had some treats for Reese in your pockets and thought it would be a good idea to surprise him in the morning. James turned to you with a confused gaze as you landed on the sill and climbed over the railing. 

“Vixen?” He asked turning to look at you for a second before turning back to look at the bludger that was rather fast, walking towards his face and beating it away.

“Just gonna feed Reese!” you shouted back, now you were behind the railing, and walking inside the small tower. 

You already knew Reese’ spot, so you walked straight towards it and pulled out some treats from your pocket. You had to pull your wand out first, and that’s when you heard a loud shriek. A large white owl, opened its wings and plummeted towards you. Luckily you were quick enough to get out of the way. The owl crashed onto the ground and spun until he managed to get up. Reese’s food had ended up on the floor and a few other owls had now flown to pick it up, but the white owl seemed angry, he was looking at you as he continued to cry, now opening his wings in a rather threatening manner, although he wasn’t flying towards you. 

“Hey,” you said with a conciliating tone. You weren’t particularly good with animals, but you had never been bad either. You remembered Solacis (who was really interested in owls) had once mentioned a bad fall could badly hurt them, and you were scared that your getting out of the way –even if it was to protect yourself– would end up hurting the owl. “Hey,” you repeated, “It’s okay. Do you want some food? Is that it?” you asked as you pulled some food from your pockets. 

The owl leaned closer, and you thought he was a lot calmer until he bit your finger in the most vicious bite you had ever gotten from an owl. “Oi!” you complained as you tried to shake him off, but he seemed relentless. “Please! I mean no harm,” you repeated. Your hand was trembling as you tried to pry him off with the other, but he was using his feet to try and claw at you. Thankfully your protection equipment was thick enough. 

That’s when you noticed whose owl it was. You faltered, as you stared at it. He bit deeper and you allowed him without complaining anymore. “I’m sorry,” you said then, knowing why he had gotten so viciously mad at you. You probably would have too. You closed your eyes and tried to place some images into the small owl head with some inverted legilimency. The same you had used on Arkalis Rosier. 

The owl looked at you confused, his bite finally softening. 

“Desmaius!” James said a bolt of light left his wand. 

“No wait!” you said, but the spell had already hit the owl, and she had fallen, knocked out on the floor. The rest of the owls seemed to be genuinely offended at James’ actions and were now all altered and flying straight towards him. Some were pulling at his hair, making it even messier than normal while others were straight-up clawing at him. He was batting his arms all around himself as he tried to pry them off. The only owls not getting involved were Reese and the Potter’s owl. Even Lily’s owl seemed to be angry at James, but he was just screeching from his spot. 

You sighed, picked up the white owl in your hands and ran towards James as a small owl clawed at his eyebrow. You grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him out, the owls following the two of you. “We need to get out!” you shouted as you handed him his broom and crossed over the railing, white owl still in your hands. 

The owls were just behind, still screeching and following James. “Quick, on your broom, Prongs!” you shouted, and he did as told. You mounted yours right after him and held tight with one hand as you tried to steady the other owl on the other. 

“Why are you bringing that beast with you?” he asked. Your finger was still bleeding from its bite. The blood made the injury seem a lot worse than it actually was. Especially since you had wiped some of it on your hand.  

“Because he’s not bad!” you retorted as the two of you started to fly away, the owls seemed rather insistent on following the two of you. 

Sirius, who was soaring just behind a tower, smiled when he spotted you, “Hey guys, why are you–” he started, and then he noticed the angry flock of birds flying behind the two with determination. He gasped and quickly caught up. 

“What the hell did you do to the owls?” He shouted as he managed to catch up with you. 

“He stunned one of them,” you replied. 

“What the fuck, Prongs?” 

“He was biting her!” He retorted in defence, the three of you picking up the pace as the owls shrieked behind you. The same Ravenclaw dude opened his window to tell you off but shut it immediately when he noticed the angry owls chasing behind you. 

“I had it under control,” you retorted. “Follow me,” you added before Sirius could complain and then took a sharp turn, straight towards the forest, you thought perhaps you could lose them there. The two boys did as told. You shut your eyes and tried to concentrate on those half-transfigurations as you entered the forest. A few owls left before even flying inside the forest, and you managed to lose the rest of them after a few minutes. When you were sure they weren’t following, you slowed down the pace and landed. 

The three of you were panting, Sirius’ hair was a mess of unruly curls, James’ face was badly gashed and your hand was still bleeding. 

“You should have left that beast there!” he said with a frown, which caused him to wince shortly after. 

“She’s hurt!” 

“Is that the one that bit her?” Sirius asked as he noticed his red-stained beak. 

“YES!” James added, exasperated.

“He had a good reason,” you retorted. Both boys looked at you like you were insane. “I–“ you breathed, “I have her master’s wand,” you finished. 

“Nina’s owl,” James said, almost in a whisper. 

You nodded. “She hasn’t seen Nina in days, she’s probably scared and lost, and then she saw me wielding her wand, she must have thought I–” you sighed, “She must have thought I took it from her, by force.”

Sirius gave you an apprehensive look.  

“Her name is Nieve,” you added. “Nina got her as a birthday present last year, she asked me how to say Snow in different languages, and picked the Spanish one. Besides, I think she hurt herself when she tried to attack me and clashed on the floor. It must be her wing.” 

Sirius wished he was surprised that you took the owl even after it bit you, but it was something you would do. “You’ll bring her back to your room?” James asked.

“I think so,” you retorted, thinking if you could get help for it. Taking Nieve to Kettleburn didn’t seem like the best idea, but bothering Pomfrey with an owl didn’t seem too wise either. Not when she would care more about your bitten finger and James’ cheek. “Sirius, could I have your handkerchief?” you asked. 

He handed it over and you quickly wrapped it around your finger. You walked out of the forest and towards the Gryffindor tower. Some of the portraits –the ones that weren’t asleep– threw you some judging looks. And by the time you were in front of Lady McDougal, they were already whispering amongst themselves. And it was probably because the three of you looked like an absolute mess. 

“My goodness, did you three fight with Pixies while you were out flying?” 

“Just owls,” you said as you motioned towards Nieve, still knocked out in your hands. 

She pouted at you, “Password?”

James answered this time around and the three of you were allowed inside the common room. Lily was already awake, and working on some homework with Remus when she spotted you. 

“What the hell?” She asked, approaching you, looking at Sirius’ blood-stained handkerchief and then at James. “Jamie,” she said reproachingly and placed both hands around his face. James leaned down a little bit, clearly basking on her attention. Remus was up and next to the two of you in seconds, only lagging by a small limp that you barely noticed.  

“What the hell happened to you?” 

“We got chased by owls,” you explained with a shrug. Remus stared at the white owl still in your hands.  “We’re fine though.” 

“That does not look fine,” Rem said. You opened your mouth to speak. “If you dare say ‘I’ve had worse’ I will pour Firewhiskey down your gash,” He threatened. 

Sirius smiled at that, took the owl from your hands and created a small pillow nest for him in the middle of the table. 

While he was busy with that, Lily had already sat James down on the sofa and was standing between his legs. She cleaned her wound with some water and cotton, that you had no idea where she’d gotten. All the while Remus was carefully unwrapping Sirius’ handkerchief from your finger. The blood had dried a little and now it was kind of stuck and dry. 

He hissed when he actually saw your wound. “Bloody hell he might as well have bitten your finger off!” 

“She,” you corrected. 

“What?” 

“It was Nieve,” you added as you nodded to the owl. Sirius had already gotten a small bowl with ice-cold water and handed it over for Remus to dip your finger inside of it. 

Remus scoffed, and after your hand was cleaned, he pulled his wand out and pointed at the gush. “This might hurt a little,” he warned and then whispered something. You winced but didn’t make a sound. Your finger was like new in a matter of seconds, not even a scar. “You’ll explain to me why you brought the owl that bit you while we have breakfast,” he said matter of factly. 

“So bossy,” you complained as you curled your finger. 

“Hey, Vix!” James called as he turned his face to yours, you stopped looking at your finger and turned to him. “Lily wants to cure me, but don’t you think I’d look cool with a scar?” 

“You’d look ridiculous,” Lily retorted, almost exasperated. 

“I wouldn’t! Vix thinks Moony’s scars are cool!” 

You smirked. “Oh, they are,” you said reassuringly. “But not everyone’s as handsome as Moony, I’m afraid you can’t pull off the scar look.” 

“Oi!” he complained. “This one looks cool, though!” He added as he pointed at his face.

“You’re absolutely ridiculous, I can’t believe we’re dating,” Lily said exasperatedly and pointed her wand at James’ face. “Ready?” 

“Yeah,” James said with a bit of a pout and got cured by Evans who decided to leave just the faintest of it uncured so he could get an almost invisible scar since she knew James would probably be proud and boastful about it anyway. “Thank you, my heroine,” he said and pursed his lips to get a kiss. 

“What’s this, kiss the nurse?” she asked, diverted. 

“Mhm, to make me feel better. Didn’t you say muggles did that?” 

You smiled, “Yeah, I remember she did.” 

“Don’t you want me to feel better, huh?” James asked with another pout, earning an eye roll, and then a short kiss from Lily. Sirius cheered while Remus whistled. 

“You’re ridiculously childish,” she huffed, looking at the three, including at you who stared at her while you wiggled your eyebrows.

“But you love that about me,” Prongs retorted with a satisfied smile. 

“Come on, let’s get you something to eat,” she said as she pulled him off his seat, and the two of them walked towards the exit. 

“I’ll be expecting that get well soon kiss as well,” you said with a teasing smile as you picked Nieve in your hands, you weren’t sure how you were going to help her, but you were not going to leave her all alone in the common room where she could panic and bite someone else. 

Sirius looked at the empty common room and then at Remus with a knowing look, Remus seemed to understand what he meant perfectly. A second later they were both leaning towards you and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek at the same time. But rather than pulling apart, they both lingered near your neck.

“How is that for a get well soon kiss?” Sirius whispered.

You bit your cheeks in order to keep a smile from spreading. “I don’t know I–”  

Remus had pressed another kiss, but this time just behind your ear, and it was not an innocent peck, he was almost sucking, it made your knees weak.

“You were saying,” Sirius smiled as he kissed the middle of your neck, the spot he already knew made you moan. You felt your knees wanting to buckle underneath you. 

“You coming or what?” James asked as he popped his head back inside. “Oh,” he said when he spotted both Remus and Sirius’ heads buried in your neck, “I guess you might be.” Your eyes shot open as you gasped in disbelief, James snickered. “Just don’t do it in front of the kids,” he added as he nodded towards Nieve. 

Sirius pointed his wand at James and his head disappeared before sparks flew his way.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader  @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow  @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei i @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @mothraantics @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld @pastelorangeskies @barking4you @profoundpidgeon @nagareboshi-chiyo @x4ramyluv

Leave a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

Read more Marauders Fiction

[werepuppy-steve]

if i ain't got you

steddie | wc: 1,425 | cw: none | songfic | ao3

have some hurt/comfort, cj style. happy thanksgiving even though it's already 1am my time <3

The kitchen is so thick with tension you could cut right through it like butter. Eddie’s washing the dishes and Steve’s putting away the leftovers from dinner. They haven’t spoken a word to each other the entire night, not since that afternoon when they were screaming at each other.

Other people would say that they don’t remember what or who started the argument in the first place, but Steve knows exactly what happened. All because he let his dumb mouth get ahead of his brain. And it’s not like he hasn’t tried to apologize—he tried the second the words left his mouth and then five more times after that but Eddie wasn’t having any of it.

Which is fine, he’s allowed to stew in his hurt feelings for as long as he likes, but Steve is worried that this might be the first time they go to bed with one of them still mad, and he doesn’t know if he can handle that.

He shuts the fridge and turns around to lean against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, letting out a quiet sigh. Eddie’s back is turned to him so he can only see the movement of his shoulders as he scrubs the dishes harder than he ought to.

He’s still pissed, then.

Steve lets out a quiet sigh. He’s the one that started this whole mess so he’s got to be the one to fix it. He needs to come up with something to get Eddie to at least look at him.

He stands there for a few more minutes as he thinks but then the light bulb in his brain flicks on and he leaves the kitchen.

Eddie’s probably washed this bowl three times already but he doesn’t care. He’s still worked up from his and Steve’s fight earlier, he could drop the bowl and it could shatter in the soapy water and he wouldn’t even blink an eye.

How dare he, Eddie thinks bitterly, rinsing the soap off and placing the bowl in the dish drainer a little harshly. How dare he think he has the right to even insinuate.

All he wanted was to spend the extra little bit he’d had left over from his paycheck on some new mini’s he’d seen down at the bookstore and a couple of books that had been on his list for ages. He made sure to put back enough to cover his half of their rent and bills. He was careful.

But Steve still had to go and open his stupid rich boy mouth.

Eddie feels the familiar prickle of white hot anger on the back of his neck and he takes a deep breath to calm himself. It’s not his fault that he grew up poor. Wayne did what he could to support the both of them on his single paycheck every month, but that money only went so far. There wasn’t enough to spare to open an account with the bank, so they just went without.

Unlike the Harrington’s, who apparently had accounts open across multiple cities and even a couple overseas.

Steve’s father had drilled the importance of wealth management into him from an early age and made him use his first allowance to open a savings account at the age of ten. His boyfriend had a goddamn retirement account by the time he was eighteen.

So when Steve goes and assumes that Eddie doesn’t know how to handle money just because he wants to splurge for once and buy something he enjoys, Eddie thinks that his anger is a little more than justified.

Eddie’s eyes sting with oncoming tears and he blinks them away with a shake of his head. He doesn’t need to cry right now.

As he reaches for another dirty plate, music suddenly fills the kitchen from the Bluetooth speakers on the counter, soft piano trilling and the melodic humming with an R&B beat.

He freezes when arms slowly circle his waist from behind and Steve rests his chin on his shoulder.

Some people live for the fortune

Some people live just for the fame

“Dance with me,” Steve murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to Eddie’s shoulder.

Eddie suppresses a shiver and the instinct to lean back into him. “I don’t-”

“Eddie.”

Another kiss, this time under his ear. Fingers gently trace along his arm.

Some people think

That the physical things

Define what’s within

Eddie’s walls crumble like sawdust when Steve laces his fingers between his own soapy ones. He lets Steve pull him away from the sink and they slowly sway in the middle of their kitchen. He can see straight into the living room, where they’ve already set their Christmas tree up in the corner by the window, fully decorated even though it’s still November. They’ve got a hodgepodge of decorations and knick knacks already set on various shelves and tables with Christmas lights strung in almost every doorway.

As they dance in a slow spin, their cheeks pressed together, Eddie thinks back to how much fun they had setting all of it up. How Steve held the mistletoe above his head every chance he got just to be able to kiss him. All of his remaining anger slowly melts away and he’s left with the overwhelming feeling of how much he loves this man.

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, yeah

“I’m sorry,” Steve says, and he sounds like he means it. “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, when I said you should be more responsible. You were right. It’s your money and you’re the only one who gets a say in how you spend it.”

Eddie sighs and tightens his arms around Steve’s shoulders. “I’m sorry, too. I got defensive, but I shouldn’t have yelled at you like I did. I should’ve listened to you when you tried apologizing the first time.”

Some people search for a fountain

Promises forever young

Some people need three dozen roses

And that's the only way to prove you love them

Eddie pulls back a little and looks at Steve for the first time in what feels like ages and is flooded with emotions that make his chest tighten when he sees the soft smile on his boyfriend’s face and the love in his eyes.

Eddie cups his cheek and leans in to press a soft kiss to his equally soft lips before resting his head on Steve’s shoulder with a soft sigh.

Some people want it all

But I don't want nothing at all

If it ain't you, baby

If I ain't got you, baby

“Are we really slow dancing to Alicia Keys?” he asks after a moment. Steve shakes with silent laughter and Eddie gently smacks him in the shoulder. “It’s a serious question, Stevie. I need to know if it’s a contender for our wedding playlist.”

It’s Steve’s turn to freeze now and Eddie can’t hold back his giddy smile when he pushes him back by the shoulders and gives him a wide-eyed look.

“Wedding playlist?”

“Well, I was planning to wait until Christmas to pop the question, but. Yeah. I even got a ring.”

Steve gapes at him like a fish before yanking him in for a kiss by the front of his shirt. It’s more teeth than lips because they can’t stop laughing long enough, but they eventually get a hold of themselves when Eddie wraps his arms around Steve’s neck again and presses close, thier lips slotting together seamlessly.

“So I take it that’s a yes?” Eddie asks between kisses.

Steve nips at his bottom lip. “Only if you learn to stop kicking your socks off in your sleep and leaving them under the covers at the end of the bed.”

“They twist around my toes, Stevie,” Eddie pouts, trailing kisses along Steve’s jaw. “Makes ‘em feel like pigs in a blanket.”

Steve tilts his head back to give him more room, the music completely forgotten. “Then don’t wear them to bed at all.”

“But then my feet will get cold. Do you want me to put my icicles on your legs, Steven? Would that make you feel better?”

Steve throws his head back for a completely different reason and groans. “You’re going to be even more difficult once we’re married, aren’t you?”

Eddie grins against Steve’s throat. “Absolutely, oh husband of mine.”

Some people want diamond rings

Some just want everything

But everything means nothing

If I ain't got you, you, you

permanent taglist:

@yournowheregirl @steves-strapcollection @thefreakandthehair @stobinesque @vecnuthy

@tboybuck @flowercrowngods @starryeyedjanai @matchingbatbites @corrodedbisexual

@theheadlessphilosopher @patchworkgargoyle @sentient-trash @wormdebut @legitcookie

@corrodedcoughin @steddieas-shegoes @wynnyfryd @sidekick-hero @simplebtromance

@tangerinesteve @stevesjockstrap @steddie-island @spectrum-spectre @pearynice

@worstsequence @devondespresso

[lialacleaf]

To Care For A Woman

Chapter 5

Simon Riley

Summary: You join the army as a last-ditch effort to avoid destitution, but when you sustain an injury protecting Lieutenant Ghost and earn yourself a medical discharge, you're stuck all over again. Or maybe not...

Warnings: Tension, Simon wants to care for you, small reader, a little bit spicy but not NSFW, man worrying about a woman's safety, typical cannon violence, deception, I'm sorry it's unedited… MARRIED COUPLE THEMES. It’s light but you know what’s happening. Married people doin what married people do. PTSD

Please listen to the song I beg you.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Simon wasn’t sure what had made you so shaken, but it had him rattled that you’d seemed so upset, only to brush it off as if it was nothing.

He let the water pelt over his shoulders, soothing the ache from working outside. It was getting colder outside, and he’d started turning on the fireplace in the evenings. He liked to watch you curl up beside it before he’d inevitably carry you to bed when you fell asleep.

Just the thought of it brought a smile to his face. Occasionally he’d catch a glimpse of the scar on your knee when your knight gown rode up on your leg, and he’d feel something tighten in his chest. He needed so badly to protect you, provide for you, and do everything in his power to fix what he’d allowed to become damaged.

He found himself starting into your eyes often, looking for traces of the despair that had haunted his mother’s eyes. He so desperately didn’t want to be like his father. He wanted to be a good husband, as good as someone like him could be. He just hoped he was enough for you.

~

You shut your laptop with tears in your eyes. Your poor Simon, hiding out here in his cabin all alone to forget the horrors of his past. He was so good to you, treated you like you were the best thing to ever happen to him, and after what you’d just seen, you couldn’t help but wonder if you were.

You sat down on the edge of your bed, tears leaking from your eyes. You understood his decision to help you now. You were alone, and so was he. Now you were alone together, bound by the contract that had saved you from a horrible fate.

You didn’t think you’d ever fallen in love with someone as quickly as you did with Simon. One minute he was a stranger, and the next he was the brightest part of your life. He was your support, your comfort, and your safety.

He was a husband in every way that a man ought to be.

Your head was spinning with the realization that Simon and Ghost had to be brothers. That information seemed distant however, and you were startled out of your thoughts when Simon’s footsteps sounded.

You looked up, and the both of you froze as the man stood before you in…in a towel. There were so many scars across his pale chest, and you noted one on his shoulder that looked relatively recent. Your cheeks responded to the sight with a pink hue, and your eyes widened.

You’d obviously known he was handsome, but this was an entirely different sight than when he was fully clothed, moving about your home with that powerful stature of his.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, casting your eyes away. “Lunch is ready.”

You stumbled out of the bedroom, quickly grabbing your plate and curling up on the couch, waiting for him to join you.

He was wearing a pair of comfortable, black sweatpants and a gray sweatshirt when he joined you on the couch. You finished your sandwich without meeting his eyes, still feeling the heat course throughout your body and the memory of him standing before you in just a towel.

You set your plate in the sink, contemplating your next move very carefully. Your eyes settled on Simon’s form as he finished the last of his lunch.

You could tell he was watching you from the corner of his eye as you plucked his empty plate from his lap and set it in the sink.

You felt unsure about what you were about to do. What if you offended him, or made him uncomfortable?

You shook those thoughts from your head. Simon was nothing but a gentleman. You had nothing to worry about.

He watched you carefully from the couch as you approached him, your arms wrapped around you tightly as you tried to push down your nervousness.

You stopped right in front of him, reaching out to cup his cheek. His confusion was evident, until you carefully slid into his lap, your hands settling on his chest and your forehead pressing against his.

“Y/n,” he said sternly. He swallowed thickly, his hand settling on your waist. “You owe me nothing,” he whispered, eyes searching out your own, but they remained closed as your breath softly fanned across his face.

“That’s not what this is,” you murmured, your lips brushing his own desperately.

Simon cupped the back of your head with one of his large hands, his lips melding with your own in a wet, sloppy kiss that left you panting.

His tongue brushed your bottom lip, begging for entrance as his free hand slid between your legs. You gasped softly, and Simon let his tongue slide against your own.

He nipped at your bottom lip softly, before moving to your jaw, his soft kisses traveling across your throat until he reached the sensitive skin of your pulse point and sucked a bruise into your flesh.

You’d never been so thankful to have worn a dress as you were as his hands learned you, electing just the reactions he wanted.

Your eyes locked onto his, and he watched you with an insatiable hunger. You felt an electric shock at the sight as something feral burned in his gaze.

Your eyelids fluttered, and Simon grinned as he lifted you into his arms, moving with purpose towards the bedroom where he laid you out beneath him with more care than he’d ever used for anything in his life.

“So bloody beautiful,” he murmured, watching your lips part silently and your eyes flutter closed before smashing his mouth onto yours. This was what he was made to give you. His love, himself, everything he had.

~

The sun hadn’t quite risen, and it was still misty outside from the night of rain and thunderstorms. You were sweaty, and the covers stuck to your body, reminding you that a shower was the first thing on your morning bucket list.

Your stomach grumbled, unsatisfied with your decision to sleep through dinner. The only part of you unsatisfied.

You glanced at the empty spot beside you, and listened for the sound of your husband in the cabin.

You carefully moved to the bedroom door, noting that your knee was very displeased with being made to support your weight.

“Simon?” You called, hissing slightly as you limped into the washroom. You heard the front door open, and your husband’s feet padded softly on the hardwood floors. “Simon,” you called again, and his footsteps quickened.

He peeked around the doorway, his eyes softening when he noticed your pinched features. “Everything alright, love?”

“My knee is a little less than happy at the moment,” you admitted, and he frowned, biting his lip softly. “I’ll be right back.”

You heard him rummage around in the kitchen, mumbling curses under his breath as something clattered, before his hurried footsteps sounded.

“What was that about?” You asked as he reappeared, lifting you effortlessly into his arms before lowering you gently into the tub and turning on the water.

He glanced at your face, trying not to give anything away with his own expression. “A surprise,” he stated.

You couldn’t help but smile softly as he poured soap into the tub.

“Did you make breakfast?” You asked with a laugh.

He simply shrugged in response as he squirted soap in his hands. “Something like that.”

You shivered at the feeling of his hands dragging up your thighs, past your waist, and settling at your collar bones where he massaged the soap into your skin, before cupping his hands in the water and rinsing the suds away.

He placed one of his signature kisses against your forehead, and grabbed a brush from your little basket atop the counter and went to work on the nest in your hair.

You let your eyes slide closed as he washed your hair, feeling him cup your jaw and pull you into another wet, indulgent kiss.

The sound of the drain alerted you that bath time was over, and you opened your eyes to Simon offering you a hand to stand.

You couldn’t help but laugh when he wrapped you in a towel and lifted you off your feet. He peppered your face in soft kisses as he set you down in the chair next to your nightstand, and fished out a comfortable set of loungewear for you.

“Simon,” you said as he pulled the soft shirt over your head.

“Mhm?” He hummed in reply as he helped you lift one leg at a time into your pants.

“I love you.”

You watched him freeze for a moment, and couldn’t help but fear you’d said something wrong. He glanced up at you, his deep brown eyes holding disbelief. Your chest ached.

“I mean it,” you said, gently stroking his cheek.

He looked like he couldn’t breathe, like the same words were lodged in his throat and he couldn’t quite get them out. You didn’t need him to though. He said it every day in other ways.

Simon hadn’t believed he could be loved. He’d expected you to tolerate him, maybe even find some affection for him if he was lucky. He’d never expected you to love him.

And to think, before he’d met you he’d truly believed Simon to be dead. You were blurring the lines between Ghost and Simon, making him feel more like a man than a specter than he had in years.

“How about that surprise?” You urged, snapping him out of his trance.

“Right,” he said, accent thick and voice heavy with emotion. “C’mere.”

He lifted you into his arms and settled you on the couch, before grabbing a cardboard box out of the kitchen.

“Thought you could use an early Christmas present,” he said.

“It’s still November,” you said with a laugh that had his ears turning red.

“Didn’t think you’d wanna wait,” he said, pulling out the smallest scrap of fur you’d ever seen. You felt your jaw go slack at the sight of it. “Found her on my morning run,” he explained, setting the gray kitten in your lap and scratching it behind the ear.

Your hands immediately moved to stroke her soft fur. “She’s adorable,” you cooed.

“Thought you might like to have some company for the next two weeks,” he said, offering you a soft smile, and you couldn’t fight the grin on your face as you pulled him in for a kiss.

“Love you too,” he whispered against your lips.

~

Simon laid a tarp over the garden box before he left, just in case the weather got bad while he was gone.

You drove Simon onto base with Moonbeam on the seat between the two of you. The kitten seemed rather fond of Simon, constantly clawing at his hoodie sleeve and demanding attention.

“Be safe while I’m gone,” he said, kissing your forehead before placing a loaded pistol in the glovebox.

You watched him go, his duffel bag over your shoulder, and you let out a deep sigh. The truck already felt lonelier.

You reached down and scratched Moonbeam’s head, causing the kitten to purr.

“He’ll be fine,” you assured yourself, before driving off towards town.

The drive felt longer by yourself, even if Simon didn’t typically talk much. You stopped at the bookstore and picked up some gifts for your parents with the card that Simon had left you, and Jesse was kind enough to wrap them for you. After dropping them off at the post office, you made your way back to the cabin.

Moonbeam was perfectly content to sleep on your feet as you read a book by the fire that night, but you still felt the absence of Simon in the house. It was going to be a long two weeks.

~

“Ghost, the LZ is compromised, do you copy?” Price’s voice rang over the radio, and Simon groaned.

“Fuckin’ drug cartel,” he spat, reloading his weapon. The bodies of his comrades littered the ground around him. “Copy that, Captain.”

“We’re on our way to clear hostiles, hang in their L.T. Soap’s voice sounded over the radio. It had turned into a shit show all too quickly. He’d lost too many men to count.

Enemies fell left and right, especially once Soap showed up with reinforcements. The helo was finally able to land for extraction, and after collecting far too many dog tags, Ghost loaded onto the chopper.

He was sitting in Price’s office days later, his shoulder’s sagging in defeat. The mission wasn’t a success.

“It’s not your fault Simon,” Price consoled. “We’ll get another chance.”

His men wouldn’t get another chance. His men were dead.

Ghost sat in his office, staring out the window and the pouring rain when his phone buzzed.

I can come get you when you’re ready.

He didn’t want to see you, not when he was like this.

Not finished with work yet, I’ll let you know.

He slept in his office that night, head propped up uncomfortably on his desk. He wasn’t sure what else to do. He couldn’t just go home and be in a bad mood, but he was exhausted, and his office was cold and uncomfortable.

He wanted your warmth, the comfort of your shaded bed, and your soft body, but he was unwilling to subject you to this side of him. To the side that was more Ghost than Simon.

Trying to be one or the other was beginning to tear him apart. It hurt. Hurt so bad that he actually felt tears prick his eyes. He was a failure. A failure of a husband, and a failure of a Lieutenant.

So many families that wouldn’t see their loved ones this Christmas. Would never see them again for that matter.

Ghost fought down a choked sob at the thought that he was putting you through something similar right now, making you wait for him in the cabin even though he was alive, and ought to be making the most of it.

He wasn’t sure when morning rolled around, but a knock on his office door pulled him from his morbid thoughts.

“L.T.?”

“Go away Johnny,” Ghost groaned, placing his head back on his desk.

The door creaked open, and Simon glared daggers at the Scotsman. “What did I just say?” He barked.

Johnny rolled his eyes and muttered curses under his breath. “None of that now. Get your head out’ yer arse and go home. Your wife’s here.”

Simon’s head shot up, panic evident in his eyes. “What? Why?”

Soap crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his hip to the side. “Captain and I called her this morning, and told her to come get you. You’ve got,” Johnny paused as he glanced down the hall, “fifteen seconds to get that mask off by the way.”

Simon had never rid himself of Ghost so quickly. The mask was shoved into his desk drawer, and just in time as you joined Soap standing in the doorway.

Your eyes softened as they noted his ruffled hair and the tear streaks in his grease paint. “Oh Simon,” you chided, taking slow steps towards him.

“Come on,” you insisted, tugging gently on his jacket. “Silly, silly man,” you scolded as he stiffly got to his feet and allowed you to pull him out of the office.

“Johnny, right?” You asked as you passed Soap with Simon’s sleeve in your grasp. Soap nodded, a somewhat smug look on his face. “Thank you, both of you, for the call.” You said, patting his arm.Simon rolled his eyes when Johnny looked like a toddler that had just been given a gold star. “And tell Ghost Happy Holidays for me, if you see him,” you added before ushering your exhausted husband to the truck. Part of you wished there was a way you could tell Tommy he was welcome to come spend the holidays with you and Simon, but you had a distinct feeling that the two weren’t inclined to do such a thing at the moment, and if Simon was handling the outcome of the mission this badly, you had a feeling it would be worse for Ghost, and the Lieutenant would likely hide away in some dark corner for the next few days. You wished you could help him, but you didn’t know how.

Simon felt his chest constrict at your words and Johnny grinned. “Oh, I’ll certainly tell him,” he said knowingly.

“I’m sorry,” Simon began, his voice thick. “For not calling. I should have let you know I was alright.”

You shook your head as you slid into the driver’s seat of the truck. “Well that would have been a monumental lie, because you’re not,” you stated, and you watched your husband stiffen, before slumping against his seat.

“Simon, I used to be in this line of work too. There are bad days, I get that. I’m not going to be mad that you’ve got shit to handle, but I don’t want you to feel like you have to hide it from me.”

You had no idea just how much he was hiding from you. “I’m supposed to protect you from that stuff,” he said gruffly.

You sighed softly, reaching over to squeeze his hand. “And sometimes you have to let me protect you.”

Protect him. The sound of your screams, the splatter of your blood when that knife went into your leg, were all he could think of with those words.

You didn’t miss the flash of fear and panic in his eyes, and you squeezed his hand again. “Everything is going to be fine,” you assured him. You’d make sure of it.

AN: Simon is digging his own grave 0_0 reader will have to find out at some point, but what will be the outcome? Ehehehe

Tag list:

@warenai @livynicole @ghostlythots @hilowhiho @mrmountainman @miamia89 @shiraya92 @crocodilefeet2707

@zzariyahchan @gaida-511 @misshoneypaper @soldierlass @dazaiscum @mockerycrow @kaysav608 @classygardencroissantcolor @innerskylover @kristalhi @hotaruteba @tzutology @sushiumex @l3xiluve @immajustlikeok

@iplayghoul @linoskitten11 @zollaris @whore-for-anime @migeuloharaslxt @blog-luvdance @embermdk @buttercupmuffins

@corpsebridenightamare @15382663884 @discowizard88 @strawberryjambrrread @lieblinqs

@waves-against-a-cliff @saturnknows @elliesbabygirl @vynz0ne @teapartydreams @thesinsoflust @vantedaes @berryjuicyy @lovergyal @01trickster10 @coolcatyarb @nirvanaaaonly @innerskylover @thriving-n-jiving @whoisjazy @yeoldedumbslut @vinithechocolatevampire @starlettemoony @die-prophetin @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @emily-roberts @mokyoenthusiast

@betelrus @shiftedvoid @beebeechaos @bitchoftoji @katbug37

@thatgirlboss1 @homeofthe-80s-90s-andnow

@illyanam1011 @hrchyysnz @chxosangxl @animarix @happy-mushrooms @pearlm00n @cathnoneofyourbusiness @ray-rook

@novausstuff @copiasratscheese @i-feel-violated @itsagrimm

@hearts4sky @oxlunamoonxo @oreo-cream @redheaded-hobbit

@srmacaroni @thaprilks

[eldritch-spouse]

Next part to [this series]

[Minors DNI][Fem reader][Interactive poll!]

TW: Kidnapping; Descriptions of gore.

He watches you put the cup back down.

It had been a bad decision to give you a taste of such. Hudsyn can admit that much.

Could he be blamed however, in his want to make you appreciate your time with him more? An angel's tears- The delicacy of times forgotten, something both holy and blasphemous, rich spoils only he can gift you. Can you even comprehend the magnitude of what he's offered you?

The two of you, enjoying a priceless commodity, one which no other common mortals in this world can even conceive of in this day and age. It's poetic, it signifies your importance, your achievements to come- It's romantic, dare Hudd say.

And yet, it was also a mistake. More and more, he gets painfully reminded of the risks of romanticism, of letting that little spark of pride in him -What's left of it- Blind him to reality, sideline his goals. Hudsyn's never wanted to impress someone as badly as he does you and it shows. Perhaps to you it doesn't, but to the few who know him, it'd be the most glaringly obvious slap to the face.

Point being, that drink had its uses. It was meant to keep you lulled, susceptible, easy to grasp his meanings and emotions. He didn't plan for the possibility of him being unable to keep his feelings in check, which, to be fair, isn't something Hudd often has to worry about to begin with. They bled into you, some less pretty things dancing around his excited mind… Put you on edge, overwhelmed you. Whatever channel was formed between you two was interrupted by something else at the end, something Hudd desperately hopes he can keep at bay now that you've obediently placed the cup down.

Dangerous. Dangerous unknowable variables. Thorns.

That cup. He wanted to blurt out the oh so riveting references it possessed instantly, but far be it of the demonoid to prematurely ruin a surprise. The feathers, the eye, the celestial tears- Oh, it's in moments like this that he can't help sing his own praises. He's charming. He's clever.

Hudsyn admits he's been stalling.

Not that it's detrimental to his goal, he was entirely honest when he told you that you still had a nick of time to converse before things got serious. And it's only natural he'd want to take advantage of every second he so graciously granted the two of you to ground himself, to calm down, to focus. Because, as he said, you're about to do something very very special together. It's a tricky situation, but if it all goes swimmingly, you'll be the ones to fix Hell's murky history, to finally glimpse into the world before monsters, before abandonment, before sin. Translating it into scripture.

The one true scripture of the world that formed Perdition.

Just thinking about it has Hudd a little emotional. Okay, very emotional.

Can he cry? These eyes, the way they work… Hudd has wept enough. Perhaps angels can weep in his stead now.

To think that you'll do this with him, for him, his darling precious mentee- There for him always, understanding, empathetic, a breath of much needed fresh air for his starved lungs and unfortunately also the bane of his loins. It's been too long since the demonoid was this consistently aroused. A state that should disgust him, yet the images conjured in his mind never seem to let him get rightfully upset. Oh, you and him will be beautiful. You will make everyone proud. Hudd only wishes he could make you see that now, take away the little seed of doubt he sometimes sees in your eyes. You need never doubt him, he knows best, and you've been aware of such up until now too.

" Mentee. " He starts, after a pause. " We ought to get to work. "

There. Focus. Good.

When you look at him, hues betraying an inner battle, hesitant yet curious, he really cannot fault you. For as much as Hudd has spent small eternities planning this day from start to finish, he alone cannot guarantee its success. You play too large a part to do so, without you, without your cooperation, everything will be so needlessly hard.

And yet… In the time he's come to know you, Hudd’s sixth sense hasn't technically failed him. You fit the profile of someone he needs for this kind of thing. Why, at times, you even revealed yourself as knowing more than any ordinary human should.

You wouldn't just walk out. Wouldn't get in his way.

You're better than that. You're intelligent enough to understand, you will know to make the correct choices when the time comes.

He trusts you with the most important moment of his life.

And the realization sends a rattling shiver down his spine.

When he stands up, so do you.

This has been scaring you a little.

Hudd was never someone you'd consider easy to read, not exactly an open book, even if he seemed to want to be transparent at times. Intriguing, cultured, fascinating and… Unsafe. Frantic. Invasive.

Hudd is a man on a mission, that much has been clear from day one.

And the depths of his dedication are something you're only truly grasping now, after being… Kidnapped, into this location. After becoming a part of his project.

The historian had yet to lay a hand on you. There's no immediate danger, only tension, unease- And that ever present morbid curiosity that begs you to discard any crumb of self-preservation you have.

What were the images you saw in his mind? Why did you see those things?

Who talked to you?

Help. Who asked for your help?

" What are we doing? " Something you feel the need to ask again. Maybe this time you'll get an answer.

The demonoid pauses, a hint of irritation flashing there for a moment. " Follow me, if you will, there are some things you need to see to understand, and I do not enjoy wasting breath. "

That robe-clad form turns towards that hall again. The voice… It came from there. No, you heard it in your mind, but the fact that it beckoned you to glance that way... Does something loom there? Hidden in that thick blanket of darkness that threatens to swallow the rest of the room? Whatever it is, if it is there at all, sounded small. Helpless. Corralled.

Desperation, but entirely unlike the one you felt in Hudsyn.

" My, are you really that tired? I need you to make an effort to keep up with me here, Mentee. This is important. “ The demon tuts again, coming closer to you. It's odd, you've never really paid that much attention to the difference in heights between yourself and the historian up until now.

He's taller than you. Not by that much. If you had to guess, around the six foot mark, six foot something. But those horns, the way they curve over his head like great symmetrical arches, the pitch black canvas of his face and the mystery of what lies beneath, what he tries to cover thoroughly enough to never wear anything other than those plain robes. Hudd is a tad creepy.

“ You won't forgive yourself if you falter during this. “ He warns, stern.

There's a gulp, you don't like the way he's talking. It's very clear you'll be doing something risky eventually, and you don't particularly want to chance being harmed. The fear has to be evident in your face, because he continues.

“ I have mulled over this for more years than you have been alive, protégé… So long as you follow my instructions, everything will go perfectly, and we'll emerge with the answers we need. “

A pallid palm extends in your direction, fingers curling slightly and claws glinting. “ I chose you because I know you are capable of doing this with me. Come. “

And, maybe because you can’t control your rabid curiosity anymore, maybe just because he believes in you so much, you take that hand in yours.

It feels like the seal of a promise, a contract officialized in impulsive compassion.

What would happen if you denied him now anyway? You haven’t the faintest idea where you are, bereft of any personal belongings except the very pajamas you went to bed with. Could you find a way out of his home if things went south? Could you find help in time? Would Hudd hurt you? Or… Would he simply drop you back home?

No, this is too important to him, you’re not willing to believe breaking the perception he has of your “potential” is something the demonoid would take very well.

He smiles, nodding.

Pulled along by said hand, its hold more of a periodic squeeze than anything, you’re guided into that hall. And, as soon as you set foot in said ambiguous darkness, the shabby lamp that furnishes the wall at its very edge crackles loudly, the bulb within it giving its last few sparks of light before becoming utterly useless. In that moment, you truly become submerged in a sea of blackness, unable to pinpoint where you're going at all. Hudd, on the other hand, seems hardly bothered by the change. Perks of being a demon, you presume…

When you step over something that creaks, your hand instinctively tightens around the historian's, causing him to audibly halt.

“ Oh… “ He starts, a giddy hint lying there. “ You can't see very well, can you? “

" No. "

“ Forgive the lapse, this house… It's been a while since I did maintenance checks on it. Here, I will guide you, mentee. “

A warmth envelops your side, one of Hudd's hands presumably sets on your right shoulder and the other balances your front. The sensation of those pointed claws poking through your pajamas is mildly stressing. If he were to put the smallest amount of pressure on them, he could probably draw blood.

The demonoid's closeness is a tad confusing, the only thing audible now being soft footfalls and his slightly uneven breathing. Why not just get a flashlight? Does he seriously not have any?

A sudden intake of air has the hairs on your back rising. You'd rather stumble through the dark than feel this stifling hold upon your form. Hudd hasn't said a word but he feels and sounds even more excited than before. Like this, you are once more reminded of your short-comings as a human, and how every one of them is against you if you were to attempt to flee.

“ There's a staircase ahead, you should… Grab onto me. “

Ah, that makes a little more sense.

He wasn’t lying, because sure enough, you feel the first step, as well as his hands tightening around your body. Although your arms spread in an attempt to perhaps find a wall or a handrail, you’re unable to, having to pace yourself and take Hudd’s advice instead.

“ I won’t lie, sometimes I do forget how fragile humans are. Just look at you, blind like a bat, a fall from this staircase would probably break more than a few bones. Hm… Now that I think about it, you could die, if you fell just the wrong way. “

What the Hell is his problem right now…

“ Ah, I didn’t mean to alarm you. “ He has the nerve to say, helping you down yet another step. “ Besides, I’m here, I would never let that happen to you. “

Reassuring. Totally.

Just how many steps does this staircase have? Maybe having no vision alters your perception of time, or maybe he's descending at a snail's pace, but it feels as if you've been going down for too long. You're antsy.

“ In any case, it's rather convenient the lights aren't working very well in this next area. A different kind of lighting is necessary for it all to work. “

It all… You still don't know what he's on about.

When it feels as though you two have finally reached another division, a pause unfolds. Instead of letting you go, you feel him move to stand behind you, silently. Both of his arms shift to now hold you against him by the waist. Sensory experiences heightened by the lack of visual input, the soft rise and fall of his chest is felt clearly, as is the shape of a rather thin build behind those deceitful robes.

Seconds pass in this stillness. Part of you is hoping he'll reach for some kind of light switch on the wall or continue to guide you somewhere else, but all the demon seems content to do is stand there. If you didn't know better, you'd say he's lost too, or falling asleep.

" ... Hudd? "

No response.

" What's happening now...? "

For a few more moments, he doesn't make a peep. The very second you're considering ripping yourself free of his grasp, the monster finally speaks.

" I've been waiting for this long enough that it almost feels like a dream, you know? "

" H- Huh? "

" Shh... "

A palm slithers up your front, a finger tapping at your chin before softly resting on bottom lip.

" Ever since that night, actually. "

You figure he's going to enter another one of his long-winded speeches, so it's better to just let it happen.

" At the time, fool that I was, my act of theft was done out of spite. I wanted to save my dignity, to lash out in the only real way I could before disappearing... " He sighs. " Turns out what I unknowingly got my hands on was the very key to my success. To proving everyone wrong. To be more than any of those worthless, cowardly animals ever could amount to- "

His tone dips to a growl so bitter it drips poison.

" For decades, I have been putting everything together, down to the last detail. Mentee, I've translated ancient infernal enough times that it could be my mother tongue by now... "

There's shifting, warmth reaches the side of your face. When he opens his mouth again, a dialect you can't make heads or tails of is whispered into your ears. It's harsh and grating, aggressive, filthy. It makes you want to scratch your face.

" There was a time when things were so different. It's almost hard to conceive of now... I ventured into a place I should never have, according to them, but it opened my eyes. Perhaps I didn't leave unscathed, but it gave me the courage to do what I'm doing now, to do everything that has lead up to this. And even, to seek you out. "

" I persevered. I didn't let them dictate what I should do, I didn't let them define my actions or even continue to punish me for daring to make a breakthrough! "

His hands move again, this time to grab yours and place them on your front, wrapped by his.

" Perhaps it doesn't matter to you, but I want you to know that I've lost a lot in this search, and you can't fathom how much getting this far means to me. "

" I know you're scared. In the past, I would also see this as something frightening. But both our fates will rely on one thing alone today, your ability to listen to me. "

" O- Okay. "

You're not sure what to say to that, or even if you should pry into what little of his past this demon has let slip.

" Are you ready, protégé? "

What use is there stalling anymore? You can't even go back up the stairs alone. " ... Yes. "

" Very well. Then, I ask you to remain calm. "

Finally, almost begrudgingly even, Hudd detaches from you, moving fluidly in the darkness, the sound of a match being lit resounding across the walls. Little by little, candle flames soar, you can see the silhouette of his horns as the historian moves to quickly create a dimly lit atmosphere in the room.

The sight that greets you is more than a little disconcerting.

This room, or basement rather, is in disrepair. Wherein the living room you had been conversing with Hudd looked rather spacious and and well put together, even comforting- This division barely has any kind of furniture in it aside from shelves and work benches currently drowning in ambiguous paraphernalia. The walls themselves are badly chipped and cracked, no semblance of paint to cover what you really hope aren't splashes of long-dried blood. Some long gashes running their length can only be the result of claw marks. Scuffles. Papers litter the place. Some printed, others harshly scribbled, pages ripped from books, hurriedly pinned or glued to walls, combed over so many times that their edges start to crinkle and yellow, text fading. Pens and markers in various states scatter on the ground.

This... This is like a madman's playground.

Not that you ever though Hudd was very down to Earth.

It feels as if just stepping into this room has drained some of your very sanity. You can picture him clear as day, bent over these tables, scribbling frantically, pinning things together, wrangling someone or something into this location to do who knows what with. The more time you spend around this demonoid, the less you seem to know him.

Opting to say nothing regarding this mess of a room, you focus instead on the larger illustrations half-covered in illegible text. It only takes you a few seconds to realize how similar in nature they are to the ones you spotted upstairs, on his wall. Granted, those were a little too far away for you to actually discern what contents they displayed. But the one he specifically showed you, the one with the angel, is similar to these.

Truth be told, you don't want to believe Hudd. When you looked at that creature he had drawn, many things came to mind but an angel was your last ditch answer. And yet, he eagerly confirmed it. Told you there were more even, here on Earth. Madness, maybe he really is starting to see things, maybe he's ill. Perhaps all this time you've been humoring the drivel of a demonoid entirely disconnected from reality. Well, either way, it doesn't really matter, you just have to make it through whatever this is, right?

He's been... Nice to you, so far. Kind of? You're pretty sure he likes you. Yes, that's a point in your favor.

The illustrations on these walls depict the same being, different parts of their body in more detail. It's a fascinating thing to look at, several notes and underlined information accompany these decent sketches of the lifeform itself, the angel.

What did Hudd say it was again, a guardian?

You confess you don't really understand why this entity looks the way it does or why the demon is so obsessed with it. Might as well ask.

" Hey Hu- "

" Ah, don't mind those. " He starts, close enough to your figure that the skin nearly leaps off your body. " We don't have time to comb over my documents, as rich in knowledge as they are, yes, you will listen and learn as we go along, yes? "

" ... Uhuh. "

" I will ask you, once more, to remain calm. "

It's hard to do so when he keeps reminding you of such. Paranoia dances just beneath your skin as you attempt to nod slowly.

It seems to be confirmation enough, the demon only hesitating for a couple of silent seconds before moving further, into a section of the room you hadn't even cast thought towards. How could you, when everything else was so jarring? The obscured right edge, kept dark on purpose you can only imagine...

A final, tall candle is lit when Hudd stretches, and something likes beneath it, obscured by an inconveniently placed desk, revealing a smooth expanse of what you can only call a head. Immediately, you take a few steps to the left, forward.

The blood in your vessels stutters.

You had expected, unfortunately, to find someone else in there. Some poor soul who, like you, had gotten the bizarre demon's attention and, unlike you, didn't learn to manage his eccentricities well enough.

Little did you think reality could be worse than that already glum possibility.

Because, there, on the cold and harsh ground, shackled to the wall with rusted chains and scribbled magic engravings around them, is what can only be an angel.

The angel.

The one Hudd showed to you only mere moments ago! The one in these pictures, these sketches, detailed from head to toe like some kind of laboratory experiment, some rat.

They seem unconscious, huddled into as small of a ball as they can be, leathered wings frozen in an uncomfortable shape, like the crooked legs of a dead insect. Something mars their pale hide, a series of unknowable symbols expanding into every limb, looping around their torso, probably following into the expanse of their back and even reaching those... Odd tentacles on their lower-half. You're smart enough to understand this isn't simply a tattooed angel, how ludicrous, these scripts are magical in nature, and they've been inflicted upon the holy being. Every now and then, the darkened marks pulse a faint reddish light, and it takes you a moment to understand that the pace is akin to a heartbeat. Their heartbeat.

This lifeform is being kept in a stasis, an unpleasant one if you had to guess.

The crease on that thin abdomen you couldn't quite understand opens the slightest amount, revealing what must be a beautifully colored eye for a sliver of a second.

You can almost begin to imagine what they might look like, without those sigils, without the chains holding their wrists up to the wall...

Yes, beautiful in its own right.

Not your first idea of what an angel might be, but simply gazing upon them brings you an intense sensation of awareness. Instinctually, it's as if you recognize you're in the presence of someone that begets authority and safety.

Never have you felt something similar to this. Perhaps when you were but a youngling, feeling content in the arms of your parents as they pulled you out of a troublesome situation.

You want to get closer to this creature.

" ... please. you came! "

This time, the voice startles you. Because it sounds that much closer, that much desperate, as if a force were shaking you from top to bottom, begging, crying, do something-

" Mentee! "

The noise that leaves you is akin to a goat's bleating. Hudd blinks.

" You've been standing there like a donkey this whole time! "

You frown. " Hudd... That's- That- "

The demonoid huffs, combing over the scripts on the floor and hurriedly testing the sturdiness of the chains holding the angel's wrists. With their head bent at such an angle, you can see the cloth covering it droop, but there's no visible seam between it and the angel's skin. Whatever could be beneath it?

" The specimen I showed you, yes. That's it. Did you listen to a single thing I said just now? "

It.

The demonoid scratches his way back up to a rapid stand and approaches you with a look so dead serious that it deeply unsettles you. " I have come too far. You are not allowed to freak out on me! "

Yes. For your own good, you shouldn't freak out at all.

" But Hudd... Why is he chained to a wall? What- What are you doing to him? " It's impossible to mask the growing distrust, the anxiety, you have no idea what to think of this monster.

Clearly he's not well, and possibly, he's not sane either. But this franticness, as if he's on the clock for something incredibly important, what is driving him to be this unhinged?

The demon shakes his head like you're not quite all there mentally. " Do you sincerely think an angel would willingly converse with me, mentee? I hold no ill-will towards these beings, but all of them would have me set aflame in celestial fires! It's not as if I could merely ask one to clarify a few things... "

Point taken.

" I had... Well, I'm not happy about current circumstances, I know I must look like a mindless torturer to you, but to do this safely, I could only think to remove this guardian from his flock. Not an easy task, mind you. "

This is insane. A flock? Meaning there are possibly more angels out there looking for this one. How does he plan to evade them? Has he thought that far ahead? You hope, against all odds, that Hudd bothered with that. He tends to be thorough, maybe he does know exactly every single risk he's taking right now.

" Pay close attention. " He says, handing you a thoroughly yellowed scroll. The paper feels odd. Where had he been hiding that? " He's currently dormant, and I'm going to wake him up. "

" You're insane. " It escapes you before you can halt it.

Hudsyn very visibly fumes, growling and tugging at a horn. A tone you've yet to hear from the monster rips from his ribcage. " Will you just fucking listen! "

Alright. Okay. Sure.

Your silence calms him. " There's absolutely no reason to fear, I have him entirely under control, all you have to do is follow my instructions if I tell you to do something, it won't be too complex. "

The silence from your part continues as you merely nod, ever confounded and doubtful of where any of this is going. That's a common thing here, isn't it? No matter how much Hudd insists you're vital to this, no matter how eager he is to have you involved and to ramble, you never understood a single thing about his goals, about his methods. A historian, he calls himself, scorned, interested in mapping out the "true" history of Hell and its Rings. But how does a captured angel feature into this?

Hudd sees the annoyance written plainly on your face.

" Please protégé. I know this doesn't look right to you, I'm not dumb. And if we had more time on our hands, if- If I had structured things better, taking into account your- " He sighs, turning away like he just tasted something horrid. " I wish I could have explained things to you better. Talked to you better. But... "

There's a forced cough. " I haven't talked properly to anyone in years, honestly. Maybe, lost in the grander scheme of things, I forgot how to along the way. "

Something heavy starts hanging in the air, the atmosphere drips with sudden awkwardness. No normal demon of his kin would say such a thing if they weren't grasping at straws, if they weren't at the limits of their mind, fraying their nerve endings.

Maybe it's pity, maybe it's sympathy, but you can't help wonder why Hudd is the way that he is, if all this time he's just been calling out for help or acting out to process something he's yet to reveal. Truth is that, unhinged or not, the demon sees in you someone he can trust with what he considers to be the culmination of his life's work and his sole goal moving forward. You are, effectively, his only anchor.

One doesn't need to be a rocket scientist to understand abandoning the demon in this moment would cause him to break down spectacularly. Putting aside what might happen to you as well.

" So... " Breaking a tense silence has never really been your forte. " How do we wake him up? "

Hudd's head snaps your way, and like a switch, he dons the most excited grin. " Easy, mentee! See those symbols on the guardian's chest? I just have to smudge one away, but only one! " His finger raises humorously to emphasize. " We want him conscious, not alert and energized. "

" Is it... " You watch as Hudd shoves important items into desk shelves and arranges a wide radius around the chained angel. He seems to be thinking of any last minute adjustments before going through with this event. It's making your skin crawl. " Is it safe? "

Crouched next to the angel, Hudd gestures for you to get closer, which you tentatively do. Pallid hands grab onto one of yours. " Trust me. I have planned every detail of this. "

The very moment your anxiety starts to die down a little, Hudsyn lets go of your hand to reach under his robes and place, on the ground, a blade.

And his gesture becomes moot.

The entire thing is black, patterns of what you'd guess is gold lining the sleek segments. It looks incredibly sharp and emanates warmth, you'd be a fool to think of it as an ordinary knife.

" Alright, get ready. "

Trying to distract yourself from the nerves steadily climbing back up your spine, you instead inspect the scroll previously handed to you. Predictably, it's not in a language you recognize. It's definitely not infernal, in fact, this feels like a mixture of different foreign alphabets jumbled in a pattern that seems random, but you're sure must hold meaning, if Hudd is holding onto it. It feels old enough that it might disintegrate into ashes on your fingers.

" ... Hey, what does it say in he- "

A flap startles you, scroll clutched tight to your chest as the captured lifeform, the angel, starts stirring. Those leathery looking wings flap harshly a couple of times and his neck twists in a jolt of desperation to stretch, to rise, before the air escapes his chest and the entity sags, wilting to the side soundlessly.

Oh God. It's awake. The guardian is awake, it's alive!

You glance at its chest again, past the light blue cloth, seeing where Hudd wiped the sigil. He's just as still as you are, frozen, evaluating. You notice his claws hovering next to the blade.

In spite of being well awake, the angel doesn't do much of anything, limiting himself to breathing as well as he can in this position. Although his mouth is uncovered, he doesn't say a single thing. The eye on its stomach opens once more, this time fully, and you can hardly believe how beautiful it is. Looking into it, a swirl of warm hues welcomes you, this gentle warmth spreading across your whole figure the longer you stare into it. Hudd doesn't seem to feel any of this, unfazed.

Much to your surprise, that isn't the only eye that reveals itself, because the odd fissures in the angel's immobilized hands part, and from them, two smaller versions of his biggest eyeball are unveiled.

Woah, you've never seen that before...

The guardian looks around. Although, nothing about him betrays fear, sadness or even anger, he's just appraising his surroundings, as if relieved.

" Guardian. " Hudd begins, tone authoritative when he sits and crosses his legs. You don't quite know what to do, so you sit next to him wordlessly.

The angel senses your movement, three eyes focused solely on you for a couple of tense seconds. You've been trying to ignore it, but deep down, you know this is the voice that has been calling out to you this whole time.

" Demon. " He replies, calmly, with no real animosity or much of any inflection honestly. One of his eyes remains glued to you, the others disperse to the infernal monster. Yes, that voice, unmistakable...

" You have been transported here for one reason and one reason alone. "

Hudsyn looks serious in a way you've never seen him before. And you suppose that's warranted, this moment is crucially important to him. You can imagine all the nerves brewing under that impeccably collected act he's putting on. He even seems to think of his body language, keeping it entirely neutral, surveilling the angel with the eyes of a hawk. Even then, can those eyes compare to those of a holy creature?

Is Hudd not playing with something far too complex and foreign to be manipulated?

" I have something of great importance in my possession, and I only crave one thing, to understand it. " There's a measured pause. To the demon's credit, his captive does look engaged. " But see, for me to achieve such, I first need to understand something a lot more complex, something my kind wasn't made to grasp. "

The scroll is taken from your grasp, bounced onto his.

" The languages of siadar. "

It's a term not too well-known to you. Although you have a vague idea of what highers are, and recognize the names of the two apparently said to be on Earth at this moment, Hudsyn is a lot more well-versed in all of this than you ever will be, in all honesty.

The angel becomes, somehow, even more motionless at the mention of siadar. Like stone, really, unblinking, judgmental stone blazing into the demon beside you. It feels like a piercing gaze, a forceful stab into one's deepest wants. Whatever the guardian sees there, he doesn't approve of it.

" I would advise you not to meddle with what does not concern you, Hudsyn. " He starts, slow, tentative, trying to pass some sense into a monster that never had any to begin with.

" Spare me the moralizing, the lot of you are mere cattle. " Hudd huffs.

The angel tilts his head slightly, as much as he can. " Cattle... You find it demeaning that we have a purpose? That we exist to be extensions of our Mothers and Fathers? There is dignity in service. "

The demon looks ready to belt out a couple of retorts, yet holds his tongue at the last second, eyes narrowing in realization. The two are playing a game you're not fully aware of.

" I have no time to entertain this type of debate. " Clawed hands wave the topic away. " And I'm no fool either, I know every each one of you can read the scripts of your Lords, you will read one for me. "

Hudsyn caresses the scroll previously in your hold as if it were a newborn, fragile and immeasurably precious.

" Those scripts are incoherent to you for a reason. They are not meant to be interpreted by anyone other than celestials and siadar. " The other cautions once more.

" Bah-! That's for me to decide! " A growl rises in his throat, yet fails to instill the terror it should've.

" You judge yourself a lord of this world's balance? Delusion favors you greatly. "

You blink.

" Balance?! You call this putrid stagnation balance? If no one else will, then I must set the records straight, whether you like it or not. Balance... " Hudd huffs. " I don't care for it. "

" ... I see. " There's a long pause as the guardian takes that reply in, it appears to have revealed something to him. Eventually, that eyeless veil shifts in your direction, sending a paralyzing jolt right through your core. " And you? Do you value balance? "

You cannot answer. The words are stuck to the roof of your mouth, which seems to dry and burn whenever you so much as try to make a sound. Holding eye contact with him is not an option, for a mere glimpse of those hues fills you with too much emotion at once.

A snarl resounds. " Quiet! This encounter is between you and I only. "

" And yet she is here. " The other retorts easily. " Am I wrong to assume you value this lesser's input? "

" My mentee and I are on the same page, you won't bother her. "

Another pause. The guardian painfully rolls his head back in Hudd's direction. You wonder why he does that, when his eyes aren't there.

" Very well. "

Hudsyn unfurls the scroll, confirming to himself that this is, in fact, the correct one. Part of you is too scared to guess how many cursed scrolls he could have lying around.

" Protégé. "

You jolt.

" Grab a paper and a pen, you'll find some around. "

It's a while before you do, admittedly. Not only are you shaky with anticipation, this room is a complete mess. Eventually, you come across a crumpled stack of blank paper and a pen that has seen much better days. That'll do.

You're about to take your seat back when one long sleeved arm rises.

" No. Take a few steps back. " He waits until you comply. " Sit there. I don't want you looking at him no matter what, you hear me? "

" Y- " Your own saliva chokes you. " Yes. "

" Good. "

And just like that, the scene closes between Hudd and the captured guardian.

Hudd combs his fingers over the aged paper again, before holding it up to the guardian's main eye in complete silence for a couple of seconds. You don't know if the ensuing pause is born out of the angel's reluctance to translate or if he's simply processing the document. Hudd breaks it anyway.

" Now, I may not understand much of this language, but it doesn't take a genius to understand that these- " He points at a section. " Are supposed to be numbers. And these- " Another point. " Are axis indicators. "

That large celestial eye drifts from the paper, towards Hudsyn.

" These are coordinates. You'll translate them to me. " Seemingly getting excited by his own ingenious set up, Hudd has the nerve to tap a claw against the angel's veiled head. " Remember that you taint yourself everytime you lie to me, bahah... "

You have no idea whether the runes applied to the guardian's body actually hurt him whenever he attempts to deceive someone, or if Hudd is just being theatrical about the purity of angels as a whole.

The guardian doesn't find this nearly as humorous as Hudd does. " You know not what you ask me to do, demon. "

And, like a switch, the demonoid gets serious too. " Oh, but I do. Start talking. "

The aged paper is brought closer to the angel's main eye, not that you think a 'celestial' would have sight issues. Yet, perhaps in an effort to stall, or simply because he can't quite believe what he's reading, the guardian refuses to utter a single word. Tension wordlessly rises between the two monsters, thick enough to choke your own cool. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one of them is vastly immobile. The large orb on the angel's abdomen shifts and blinks, he's very clearly able to understand what's written in at least some of it.

It makes you wonder.

Is it just that an angel is prohibited from disclosing the nature of any higher documentation without explicit permission, or is it that the information contained in this specific one is of such abnormal sensitivity that he'd rather remain locked in a mad man's possession than reveal it?

Hudd's shoulders quake, you assume he's overwhelmed with rage until short, raspy chuckling rings.

" I don't think you quite understand that you have no choice. "

Anxious, you begin quietly tapping the pen on an empty page, soothing growing nerves. The guardian offers no direct response, silently and slowly turning his face away. Similarly, his hues point to any target but the scroll's contents.

" Very well... And I had been so clear about it too. "

When Hudsyn sets the scroll down neatly, his freed hands gravitate towards the blade and a lump forms in your throat.

Angels... Elusive creatures. For all his often concerning raving, the demon has been consistently right on one thing. We no longer know how they function, that information has been degenerated and lost. It's impossible to know what truly harms an angel. How to effectively kill one. Some records claim that an angel can and will heal from all bodily damage inflicted upon them, that one can only ever slow them down. Others say that no earthly weapon can even nick them. What of fiendish weapons? What of their own weapons? Has an angel ever pointed its tool at another and sought to harm them? How did the first angels and the first demons fight?

More importantly, what does Hudd think he's going to achieve with that blade?

The angel doesn't budge at the sound of its' sharpness grinding across the floor. Hudd rises, you can't even see his face from this angle, but you understand that he's staring the celestial being down, giving them a few seconds to reconsider, to lose bravado. They don't.

You expected many things.

Perhaps that Hudd would hold the blade to the other's neck, slice across their forearm, even jab that knife into those bizarre tendrils. But then, it's foolish to try and predict the moves of a monster so desperate to achieve their self-proclaimed life's goal.

A flash of movement unfolds, the candles around the room flicker, and a horrid wail pierces into your ears.

It's not the scream of someone who's been stabbed, it's a harmonious, broken screech of a creature that never knew real pain. More than suffering, it's a cry of pure shock and fear.

As soon as the lighting stabilizes, you disobey the demonoid's wishes and crane your neck to see Hudd tightly gripping the angel's right wrist. The blade has pierced through their palm, through the eye that was supposed to be there. A sizzling noise stands out amidst the angel's shrieking, the rainbow-like hue of colors that ooze from the wound rapidly burning into a tar-like void. The blade... Scorched him? You don't understand.

All you know is that his cries are making your hairs stand, and that Hudd just stabbed someone. " Stop- Stop it! " You choke out.

It's only a few spine-chilling moments after your call that Hudd stops grinding the sharp object, yanking it right out and shaking the contaminated blood away before taking a step back. The guardian trembles, agony wracks him, the two remaining eyes shedding large, shining tears while the fingers of his mangled hand twist like the legs of a dying insect. He seems befuddled, staring at Hudd and the stained blade as if what just transpired couldn't be possible.

" That eye's not coming back- " Hudsyn snorts. " Believe me. "

Consistent in his madness, the demonoid clumsily wipes the knife on his robes, before making a much more shallow cut across his own palm. You hear the sound of his skin zipping apart, blinking when he quickly holds the dripping appendage over the angel's ruined socket.

All it takes is one drop of his blood.

The guardian grits his teeth, a sound not too different from the choked groans of someone who's bit their own tongue, before managing to throw his head back hard enough to make a gruesome thud against a now dented wall.

" GODDESS- "

It's a plea. Just the mingling of Hudd's blood with his own makes the celestial cry for their salvation, like a lost cub echoing calls for its' mother.

In the middle of the dread consuming you, it's impossible not to spot the veins of black spreading on his arm now, making small blisters on pale skin. An allergic reaction? Is his body trying to expel it in pockets? It looks incredibly inflamed and uncomfortable.

Finally, after allowing the angel's frightened sobs die down minimally, Hudd appears to be done with his torment. It's incredibly unnerving how he just... Sits back down, as if nothing had transpired.

" Are we ready to read now? "

" Stop this... Stop. "

The angel murmurs, voice small, a trembling whisper cradled in pure terror.

" I'll stop. I will, trust me, I'm not here to torture you- " Hudd laughs, as if the notion were ludicrous, as if he didn't just deliberately heighten the guardian's pain only moments ago. " Just read for me. "

The scroll is once more brought close to the angel's largest eye. Hudsyn looks serious, unrelenting. You can picture those pinprick white eyes blazing eerily at the celestial, the same way they once did when he showed up at your home. Unannounced, uninvited, with dubious-intent.

Imagine what he might have done to you then, if he felt like it. This demonoid has an angel subdued and wounded right now, a human is hardly an opponent. You picture yourself in the guardian's place, getting a knife drilled through your socket, a visceral chill shakes you.

" Read, angel. Or I'll scoop the other one. " Hudd turns back to you for a second. " Mentee, would you like a little souvenir from this adventure? Perhaps a resin paper weight with a guardian's eye? "

You don't answer. He's not looking for an answer anyway.

The guardian in question takes a few moments to deliberate on something. Probably the consequences of doing this, of providing a demon with information it most definitely is not meant to have. You have a feeling there's too much in that head for you to even begin to grasp.

More stiflingly silent seconds pass before his voice finally rings again.

" From the depths of our glorious Perdition, I pen these words with naught but ultimate scorn and haste, for my own existence is far from secured. Even now, I hear it all, above. Defeat, disorder, panic. I sense an age of calamity and ruination will befall this annex, His Kingdom, His chosen. "

The guardian pauses, likely to translate what must be entirely alien vocabulary into something tangible. Hudd fists the ground, not merely jolting you into action, but also reminding you to jot this down.

" Eden sings today, frivolous, mocking choirs in our skies, for their brutish extermination was successful, and they think themselves supreme. We know better, we are better, us the ones who were always loyal. He holds nothing from us, and this is not the end. May the Curator be as good as blind, for what he received was the mere flicker of Him. "

Hudd tugs at one of his horns, wheezing breathlessly.

" He remains with us, always. I do not weep, because the one who finds this finds Him. I will make sure of it. Welcome Him. Cherish Him. Make Him proud. Be more than us. Be worthy. "

" The great silence chases after me, these moments are my last, these breaths are my last. I beg you to seek Him, when the time is right, when the Dust has settled. Below lie the... "

The angel's voice dims into a whisper, then nothing at all. Your hand shakes over the paper.

" The coordinates! " Hudsyn all but shrieks, nearly ripping the scroll from how tightly he holds it. " Read them!! "

Silent and motionless, the celestial begins crying again. He knows what this will achieve already, he knows he can't lie. You have an inkling of what this scroll is conveying, and if it's enough to make an angel cry... If it's real...

" FUCKING TELL ME- "

The demonoid is hysterical. Understandably so, this is the very plateau of all he's worked for, and he's being unceremoniously edged along. You suppose you'd be half as mad as him too.

Patience eroded, nerves frayed, Hudd spares no mercy for the angel's continued stalling, picking the bloodied knife back up.

Quiet sobs turn into screams of desperation, distressing pleas for him to wait please wait don't please don't stop please-

You know what he's going to do, the second eye on the angel's unblemished palm will be destroyed, just as promised.

Time seems to slow down as your heartrate quickens. You ponder what to do. There's a heavy-looking vintage lamp beside you. It's not being used, of course, but it's there nonetheless, collecting dust. Quietly, you set the papers aside, rising to a squat and stretching just enough to grab it, the cord dragging along. The metal is cold and dense in your hands. It provides a sense of safety.

Do you trust the demonoid the same way he claims to trust you? Do you want to see where this goes? Is letting him achieve this the safest option? Do you share affections for this monster, in spite of his erratic nature?

Or... Is the angel, the voice in your mind, a way to avoid something catastrophic? A way to free yourself?

Hudsyn hunches over the wounded, begging guardian.

[sushis-wild-imagination]

SVT How they calm you down when you’re crying (All members)

Seventeen Masterlist (more preferences/short fics) Im open to requests! Genre: Fluff fluff, tooth rotting fluff

→Choi Seungcheol

You had been feeling out of sorts for a month now, the doctors could tell you nothing of substance that could change the way you’re feeling other than the fact that it’ll pass, you’ve just got to pull through it.

But the thoughts in your head soon bottled up to anxiety and you couldn’t sit with it anymore. You freaked yourself out too much. You had an full body check up tomorrow, just for a check up to rule out something bigger. The possibility of them finding something fatal worried you to a point where tears streamed down your face without you realising.

You ended up going into the living room where your boyfriend was. Without showing your face or letting him find out you were crying, you climb into his lap. All attempts of sneaking went to vain, he immediately knew something was wrong.

“Are you okay?”

That’s all it took for you to shake and sob out of fear. He looked ready to fight someone. If only he could fight an MRI machine. You somehow tell him you were terrified of this scanning.

He did exactly what you wanted and held you close like a baby, occasionally kissing your head with reassuring words.

→Yoon Jeonghan

You walked home very dejected and sad about your day at work today. You had this wall breaking idea for a campaign, that a senior pretty much stole credit for and you instead got accused of not contributing your ideas to the team.

It was frustrating because you couldn’t call out this senior nor could you defend yourself. Just a shitty shitty day.

You felt like you were holding yourself together until you could get home to let go. All day you were just waiting.

You finally got home and Yoon Jeonghan, your fiance, opens the door. You slowly walk towards him looking tired and frustrated, a hug is all you needed to let go.

“Whats wrong?” He asked softly rubbing the back of your head.

You tell him all that happened, vent out every frustration in tears.

“Do you want to plot a revenge plan? That ought to make you feel better” he says looking the most mischievous looking gremlin he has. It makes you chuckle. He really can fix anything.

→Hong Joshua

‘I regret to inform you that, after careful and thorough consideration’

You slam the laptop close. Why were you so sad, this university is not even your first preference. It’s alright that you didn’t get in, you didn’t even want to go.

But if you don’t even get into your 4th preference school, how do you expect the better schools to accept you? This thought rallied you head for at least 10 minutes, while thoughts of your future education brought tears to your eyes.

You sit blank infront of your desk, feeling horrible looking at this email.

“Hey, I’m making some coffee, do you want-” Joshuas voice fades out when he sees you.

“Is everything alright?”

You shake your head, while he comes over to give you a hug. You hug his torso from your desk chair. You tell him whats wrong and also ask him for some space, he gladly gives you space when he knows you’re not crying anymore.

You sit alone with your thoughts for sometime, the tears had now dried up.

He had come back with some of your favourite flowers and your favourite subway order. He knew your comfort food and you couldn’t be more grateful to Joshua that day.

→Moon JunHui

There was a lingering empty feeling in your apartment and your heart.

You had rescued a kitten a month ago from a dumpster, all injured. You and your boyfriend Jun, decided to take care of it until its better and raise it together. You named her Layla.

Layla was the cutest cat, it pained you that she was abandoned. Many people thinks its okay to adopt an animal and just abandon it whenever it doesn’t suit them, its cruel.

Today you gave Layla up to a shelter to get adopted hopefully by a better family.

The separation only hit you once you got back home. There was no meowing in the background, there were no sounds of little footsteps in the apartment, it was all too quiet.

Before you know it you were crying and jun was right by your side, wiping your tears with the sleeves of his tee shirt.

“Do you want to adopt Layla instead?” He suggests. “We could do it together, we’ll figure something out”

You couldn’t be happier, you hugged Jun through your tears.

→Kwon Hoshi

He was leaving, for the 100th time. Goodbyes are always so tough with him. He was packing his suitcase to go back to his country, again. And who knows when we’ll see each other again.

Long distance was going to be the death of you.

“Do you have to go?” You ask again, as if the answer is miraculously going to change.

When he zips up his suitcase and props it up, seeing that is all it took for you to start crying about your goodbye in advance. All he could do was hug you, hold you, kiss you saying that you’ll see each other soon.

He sees some snot from all the crying you’ve been doing and immediately offers his hoodies sleeve to wipe it on, that makes you laugh as you scatter for a tissue. He’s adorable.

He lets you keep this tiger plushie he had got from his country as keepsake. Saying ‘we will see each other again’

You can not sleep without that tiger plushie anymore.

→Jeon Wonwoo

You had an image of adulthood and living alone. A lot of friends around you, partying almost everyday, doing something new all the time, hikes, midnight drives, late night snack runs without having to answer to anyone. This is what you thought living alone meant.

But boy were you so wrong. It’s lonely. You’ve always been a floater with friends and never really had one set of friends you could completely rely on. This picture perfect adulthood you dreamt of, needed good relationships. Relationships you found so hard to make.

Your boyfriend, also your only friend in the city, came over.

You ended up talking to him about how you felt, and subconsciously he suggested a walk. He held your hand through the walk until you felt better. You were grateful.

→Lee Jihoon

You needed to quit that job, everything about it was so toxic, the boss was a narcissist that made horrible jokes. You had mentioned you enjoyed F1 and he decided to quiz you infront of your colleagues on your knowledge of it because what girl can like a sport in the true sense. It was solely to put you down in front of people. everyone laughs along like it was a given that you couldn’t possibly know the sport.

You refused to answer and give in, but you were scared it came off as you not knowing the answer to the question.

You came back home feeling absolutely humiliated in front of your colleagues and it made you feel low to a point where tears had made an entrance.

Your boyfriend, calls you once you get home to check on your day, finds a crying girlfriend on facetime. He offers to cone to you but you decline. He didn’t have to come all the way. He just ended up comforting you with words. No wonder he writes songs. He has a way with sentences and metaphors.

You felt better after talking to him, almost instantly.

→Seo Myungho

You’ve been feeling worried and anxious all day, despite the fact that you’re spending an entire day with the love of your life, Minghao, something ate away at you. You heard news from mom that one of her cousins had passed. He was her age, you couldn’t imagine what it would’ve felt like for her.

You’ve had friends die and natural death at this young of an age had you rattled, you couldn’t help but feel for her.

After half a day of observing you, minghao finally asked you. “Is there something on your mind?”

You explain to him every passing thought you had, even ones that only stayed for a fraction of a second.

Hao held both your hands in his, and reassured you that you’re parents are going to be okay and with you for a long time. He validates your feelings, that’s the most important thing, he never denies that the fear is rational. You loved him for that. He cups your cheek and brushed off the rogue tear that escaped your eye.

He ends up buying the both of you ice cream so you feel better.

→Kim Mingyu

“You’re crying?”

isn’t it sad? You were watching this movie ‘walk to remember’ its about a religious girl who has cancer and a boy falls in love with her as her condition worsens. She eventually dies but they manage to marry before that happens.

You couldn’t help but imagine what it must feel like to be in love with someone knowing its going to shatter your heart into million pieces when it’s their time to leave. And loving someone despite that takes so much courage.

You explain all this to mingyu and he agrees while he passes you a box of tissues he had handy. He tucks your hair behind your ears taking a good look at your crying face.

“How does someone cry so much but you’re still adorable, its unfair” he changes subject and makes you chuckle.

→Lee Dokyeom

Watching a try not to cry video with Dokyeom should not have been a plan at all, but here you were, watching dying dogs have their last day at beach, soliders reuniting with family and little kids being the sweetest.

You were both crying a little, safe to say you both lost. You giggle when you make eye contact with each other. He pulls at his tee shirt to wipe your tears that makes you giggle more.

Everytime you cried, dokyeom made sure you laughed. He’d crack the lamest of jokes or pull a funny face, he was adorable.

→Boo Seungkwan

Seungkwan was in the kitchen making dinner when you found a hand written letter on your vanity. You and Seungkwan were on two different schedules at this point, you barely got to see your boyfriend. It was devastating, but each day you pull through, because you love each other.

The letter said all the sweetest things, reassuring you that the both of you were going strong and you’d find a way to be with each other against all tides. It was a promise he made on paper.

Little did you know, you had dropped some tears on the letter. You held up the letter walking into the kitchen, “I love you for this” you croak out between tears and a tight feeling in your throat.

He comes over to hug you, he rubs your back as he tells you he wouldn’t have done it if he knew it would’ve made you cry. It was tears of happiness.

He pecks your lips and wipes your tears with the back of his palm. “Lets eat something” he says and distracts you with food.

→Choi Vernon

You were checking your grades on your phone next to Vernon who was turning the tv on.

Your head was in his chest while you logged into your student account. You were delighted to see all A’s but one C. It didn’t make sense, you had studied so hard for it. How was the grade so low? Is it wrong? Did you misunderstand questions, it was one of your weaker subjects and you had studied so hard. It was a difficult subject.

Without you realising there were some tears in your eyes. You had given it your best, was your best not good enough? Were you not smart enough for the subject matter? All sorts of self doubt and questions come to mind as you stare at your phone.

He pats your head and says you can do better next time. He’s right, there’s always a next time. What’s an accomplishment if there’s no struggle.

→Lee Chan

You met Chan's friends for the first time tonight and you were nervous. You had decided to stick by Chan's side the whole time and try to be the most extroverted you can possibly be. Being an introvert this was a huge task for you to overcome. You just wanted his friends to like you.

You've always been an outcast in school and there was a deep seated insecurity in you about making new friends or being likeable enough.

His friends were the sweetest people and made you feel included in every conversation and even explained all the inside jokes to you. You were grateful. To your surprise you didn't have to stick to his side the whole night. You sighed of relief because you didn't want to burden Chan like that.

It was a fun party and you almost cried a little by the night ended and you were alone with Chan. It was as if you found your people and your inner child was healed.

"Did you like them?"

You nodded at Chan with your eyes a little wattery, you felt stupid crying about something so trivial. But he understood what it was really about.

———

Im open to requests!

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hello,

could I request a Hannibal one-shot, where he and fem!reader have been busy with work and he is really needy.He comes back from and just sneaks up to the reader, just planning on kissing her, but soon discovers how much his body missed her.(nsfw?)Sorry,if this is weird

Hannibal X Reader: Cravings

Warnings: smut, hanjdob, blowjob, teasing, dirty talks, gn reader, female anatomy, male anatomy, penetration (p in v), domish reader (if you squint), no use of y/n, doggy stlye, not proofread.

Word count: 1,3 K

Your scent hits him the moment he walks through the door. It doesn’t matter how many times he feels it he will never grow tired of your smell. He moved towards you in large steps, his eyes softening once he saw you staring at his bookcase. You haven’t realized he’s home yet and even though he doesn’t want to scare you he can’t seem to get your name to leave his lips. Instead he stalks over to you in silence.

You feel his hand wrapping around your waist. You know it's him instantly due to the feeling of his lips on your neck.

“Hello handsome.”

The pet name makes Hannibal's ears grow pink. He nudges your neck with his nose nuzzling your skin. There had been no ulterior motives for his caresses, he merely missed being near you, but before he could stop himself his hips bucked forward. He could feel his hard on pressing against your ass a small whine leaving his lips.

You move your head to the side allowing him to kiss your lips. You nip at his bottom lip a small grin making its way to your face at the groan Hannibal lets out. He’s usually not like this. He loves touching you but it’s normally in a more restrained manner. The only times he gets this touchy is when he’s needy for you. You’d been busy with word the last few days causing you to have many late nights and consequently spend less time in Hannibal's arms. It was only a matter of time before he became restless for your touch and it seemed the time had arrived.

You turned around,maneuvering your body so that you could face him. His pupils were extremely dilated revealing his need for you.

“What's wrong baby?”

You caressed his cheek, your nails scraping against the skin. Hannibal closed his eyes, sighing at the feeling of your hand on his body. His hips buck forward causing you to shift your attention to his groin. A lazy smile spreads across your face as you take in the outline of Hannibal's desire for you. 

“Is someone needy?”

All Hannibal could do was nod as your hand moved to palm his dick through his pants. Hannibal was usually seen as a composed individual but when he was with you all his walls seemed to come down leaving him completely pliable. He was puddy in your hands and you adored it. Hannibal groaned as your hand came into contact with his bulge.

“This hard already? I’ve barely touched your love.”

“I can’t help it. I need you.”

“Oh my poor baby. Have I not been giving you enough attention?”

Hannibal gazed at you pleadingly.

“Let's fix that shall we? Go sit on the couch.”

Hannibal rushed to do as you asked, his body relaxing into the couch as he watched you. You strode over to him slowly reveling in the way he licked his lips as he observed you. Once you were close enough you sank to your knees crawling the rest of your way to Hannibal in all fours. You ought the way his hips bucked up at the sight of you making you smirk. You placed your palms on Hannibal's thighs leaning over so that you could blow some air onto Hannibal's clothed dick. He hissed as you inched your hands closer and closer to his dick. You unzipped his pants, your hand moving into his briefs. The moment your hand came in contact with Hannibal's dick he couldn’t help but moan.

“My, my, aren't we pent up? Don’t worry baby, I'll help you out okay?”

You tugged his briefs down allowing his dick to spring free. You watched it bob for a moment before shifting your body closer. Your hand moved to stroke Hannibal's dick making him throw his head back. You observed his chest heath as your finger circled the head, collecting his precum on your thumb. There were beads of sweat on Hannibal's neck, the heat of you near him becoming almost unbearable. He thought he’d have to beg you to give him what he wanted but before he even had the time to form the words you’d taken him in your mouth. The sound that left his lips was otherworldly. His hands moved to your head, guiding your movements. You bobbed your head up and down, allowing Hannibal to tug at your hair every once in a while. You’d never grow tired of the sounds that escaped Hannibal's lips as you pleasure him. Your hands grip onto his thighs as he ruts up into your throat, the action causing you to gag a bit.

“Fuck-ah ugh-feels so good.”

Hannibal isn’t always super vocal but when he’s needy for you it seems something snaps inside him and the words just start to spill out.

“Perfect so-shit- perfect darling.”

You hum him a small thanks, the action causing small vibrations to Hannibal's dick and consequently making groans. You can tell he’s getting closer to his release so you double your efforts. You move your head faster, your hand moving to wrap around the base of his dick. The other hand moved to his balls caressing them gently.  It doesn't take long before Hannibal is seeing white. You feel his seed fill your mouth as he cums. His body shakes as he continues to spill into your eager mouth. You take it all without any complaints swallowing his seed with a smile.

“Come here.”

Hannibal tugs you up from the floor, pulling you onto his lap. His lips crash into your in a hungry kiss. Before you can even think properly Hannibal’s ripping your clothes off your body. His lips latch onto your neck, sucking purple bruises on your skin. All you can do is moan out his name as his hand finds your nipple, his fingers moving over the small bud. His other hand grips onto the flesh of your hips, fingers digging into the skin. You rock your body forward, subconsciously searching for some relief. To your surprise Hannibal is already hard beneath you. It always fascinated you how fast he was able to recover after coming.

“Need to be inside you.”

The words leave his lips as a growl. He isn’t asking you anymore. He’s telling you. 

“Okay. How do you want me?”

Hannibal thinks for a moment. 

“Get on the couch. On all fours.”

You nod, moving to climb on his lap. Hannibal watched you crawl onto the sofa moving to position yourself as he had wanted. He placed his knee on the couch tugging your body closer to his. A small gasp left your lips as you felt his dick nudge against your pussy. Your hands latched onto the edge of the couch as Hannibal started to enter you. Your breath got caught in your throat, only being released once Hannibal had fully interred you. He waited for you to ocustum to the size of him for a moment before beginning to move against you. Your body jolted forward as Hannibal began to pick up the pace. His hand found its way into your hair, tugging at it forcefully. You let out a loud moan, your body lifting a bit from the sofa. Your nails dig into the material of the couch as your mouth falls open. You can hear Hannibal's grunt behind you. His hand moved over your back, tracing your spine as he continues to fuck you dumb. You lean your head onto the couch.

“Ah Hannibal, I'm close.”

“You gonna cum for me huh?”

“Yes-fuck-right there!”

He’s almost reaching the edge with you all he needs is to hear you moan out his name as you gush on his dick. Hannibal reached over your body, his hand moving over your stomach towards your pussy. Once he finds your clit he zeros into it, his fingers moving over the bud until you cumming.

“Hannibal!”

Your voice sends him over the edge, his hips continuing to rut into yours as he spills his seed into you. His need for you seems to have been quenched for now. But it won't be long before he’s craving you again. He’s always been insatiable when it comes to you. 

Not that you’re complaining.

[imrllytootiredforthis]

for the submissions thing, could u write something w/ needy!gyu who acts like a brat to get ur attention at dinner with u and txt? :) no worries if not!

Behave

pairing: beomgyu x reader

warnings: sub gyu, dom reader, nipple play, begging, slight overstimulation, exhibitionism, oral fixation, think that's it, there may be more tho

word count: 2.6k

a/n: this took so long, bc i am perpetually procrastinating and inspiration hits once in a blue moon so i'm sorry anon but it's here now!

It's been happening all night.

His hand sliding up your thigh, fingers dancing along the waistband of your pants, just enough to make sure you notice. You brush him away every time but he doesn't seem to be getting the hint.

Or, more likely option, he got the hint and decided to actively ignore it and continue on, the little brat.

"So what's been up with you guys lately?"

And all while he keeps trying to rile you up you also have a conversation to juggle.

"Oh nothing really," your words are too composed, too put together for Beomgyu. You're supposed to be struggling, trying to catching your breath as your face goes red-how he looks when you tease him. "The same old. What about you though, how is it trying to control these minx's?"

You gesture to the rest of the boys, taking the opportunity to slap Gyu's hand away, pushing off of you.

"Oh, you know," Soobin says, glancing meaningfully at the boy beside you.

The boy in question takes no notice, instead 'dropping' his fork and a little too happily proclaiming that he needs to pick it up, climbing under the table.

"Brat." you mutter under your breath, feeling his soft hair come into contact with your skin before it's his lips, peppering kisses over your leg, nose nuzzling into your heated flesh.

"I definitely know." You reply, taking a bite of food to cover the groan that almost escapes.

What motivation does he have? What's driving him to do this? All while you're out at dinner with all of the rest of his friends.With his bandmembers.

Desire. Want. Pure horniness that he's been harbouring all day long, imagining sinful things all while you try to hold up a conversation.

He needs you so bad.

Ever since this morning, ever since he watched you slide your rings onto your onto each finger while getting ready for the day.

He felt saliva pool in his mouth as he fixated on your hands, on the metal and pretty jewels that coated them. In the lithe way that your fingers moved.

He'd gave an experimental grind against the bed at the time, holding back a desperate moan.

But you'd heard him. You'd heard him and you'd known, with the way his eyes were fixed intently and what exactly they were on.

You'd known and you'd teased him, played with him like the little toy he is for you, stepping closer and dipping down to wrap your hand around his jaw, pushing it up to force him to look at you.

"Are you needy, Gyu?"

He'd nodded desperately, hips working against the sheets below him in a futile attempt to gain a sensation that would replicate you.

"From my fingers huh? From watching them?"

His eyes had flickered down to your ring-clad hand and he nodded, mouth falling open, drool coating his lips.

He'd wanted them in his mouth so bad. He still wanted them in his mouth for fucks sake but you'd just smirked down at him before leaving a peck on his nose and telling him to be good while you were gone.

Telling him to behave.

This was payback.

For making him horny and needy and desperate.

He ought to be ashamed of his behaviour now as you tug him back up into his seat. His cheeks are flushed pink and drool creeps down from the corner of his mouth which you quickly brush away.

The others continue to talk as if they don't notice anything. As if they aren't vaguely aware of the tension between the two of you. Acting as if it's so thick you could practically cut it with a knife at this point.

His hand slides up your thigh, getting a touch too high, agile fingers sweeping to rub over you. Your teeth sink into your lip.

"Behave." If only you knew the things that one small word does to him, setting something alight inside of him, burning hotter and hotter and hotter.

But he doesn't. He won't. He enjoys this too much to even consider it.

So his quick fingers will continue their exploration as they begin to slip under your shirt, palm flattening against your skin to grab onto your hip.

"You better stop right now if you know what's good for you." The hiss is low and only makes his body hotter.

You should really know this by now.

A small smile curls at his lips and a faux innocent look enters his eye as he hooks the thumb of his free hand towards the bathroom.

You sigh, trying to turn away from him and continue the conversation you had trailed off in.

He doesn't let you though, instead he slots his mouth right beside your ear, warm breath sliding across your neck, "I’m not wearing any underwear." fuck, you can hear the shit-eating grin you're sure is on his face, knowing that he's succeeded in his endeavor to rile you up. "Thought you might like to know."

Your breath comes out sharply and all you can imagine is everything you're not supposed to right now.

Shameless brat.

You should really know this by now.

You have learned. A long, long time ago that he was like this. That Beomgyu is something outside the realm of common decency and wouldn't care if any one of his friends were to catch him in the act right here and right now.

"Hello, are you guys okay?"

You turn to Kai, a blush coating your cheeks.

He's probably the only one who doesn't have some kind of idea of what's going on right now.

The only one that doesn't put the pieces together. Of your red face and Beomgyu's smirk and the fact that he's using his non-dominant hand to clumsily eat because his dominant hand is the one that's on the side that you're on.

The others watch, amused. Yeonjun whispers something to Taehyun and he whispers something back and you're ninety percent sure that they just made a bet on how you're gonna dig the both of you out of this hole this time.

You blank.

Shit.

"Yeah! We are, completely fine Kai. Beomgyu uh, just remembered," a low escapes your throat as his fingers rub against you, up and down and relentless. You cover it with a cough but just barely. "That-that he forgot to turn off the stove, so we have to get going to y'know turn that off, so the entire apartment doesn't burn down."

"O-kay then?"

It's not a very believable lie, not with the way you scramble to grab your things, the others nearly laughing as Taehyun tries to discreetly slide something under the table to Yeonjun.

And definitely not with the way you shove Beomgyu, hissing into his ear, goosebumps rising along his skin. "Don't you dare look back, just keep walking."

"Um, guys! You know the door is that way-"

"We parked out back!" you call back.

You pass the door to behind the restaurant and head straight for the back to the bathroom instead, pushing the door open and leading him inside.

He's whining, nearly dropping to his knees the second the door is shut. You don't let him though, fingers digging into his hair, pulling him up and he hardly minds.

The lock clicks and he whimpers at the sound.

And then your lips are on his.

A downright disgusting mix of spit and teeth and tongue, a sinful mess that makes his head spin, his hands flying to paw at your body, searching for something-anything to hold onto.

It's hungry and it's consuming, moaning and messy, sucking his tongue into your mouth to which he gladly accepts. His body going limp in your hold, leaning against you, into you.

It's almost as if you're trying to devour him alive, taking and taking and taking everything he can give.

Until he feels lightheaded and floaty from lack of oxygen and the weak grip he hold around your bicep goes completely lax. When you're both out of air and your own lungs burn is when you pull away, heaving air in huge gulps as he looks at you with dazed eyes.

He's in shambles and it's one of the hottest things you've ever seen. The attitude he had been harbouring before melts away into something pliable and easy and so cute.

Your fingers brush over his cheekbone and he eyes them. The rings, your rings glimmer in the lighting of the room, calling him in like a crow to a shine.

Your touch is light, almost a brush. Like he's made of glass or porcelain, fragile and dainty, a precious object to be treasured and cared for. Over the slope of his nose right to the and down to his lips, so soft and so gentle it's like you're afraid that you're going to break him.

"You're so pretty Gyu." This kind of gentleness surprises him, but he won't reject it. Not when it's you touching him, making his head feel fuzzy and warm.

But he wants more, needs more. "You can be rough with me. I can take it." The words are drunkenly slurred, intoxicated off of your touch and voice and taste.

Your eyes harden in an instant, as if you were waiting for this. Waiting for the little shit to brat out again.

He's flipped so quickly his head is left reeling, moaning as his body is roughly shoved against the counter.

"You're such a brat." open mouthed kisses trail down his neck, teeth scraping against his skin, leaving marks and claims he'll appreciate later and appreciates now. "A fucking brat, who doesn't know how to fucking behave." His nails claw at your scalp as his head falls back, mouth opening to let out raw hearty moans. "I'm gonna ruin you."

It's a promise. A threat. Everything in between. Everything he loves. Everything he's been longing for.

Hands fumble, rushed and wanting, trying to tug his shirt over his head as quickly as possible, unbuttoning his pants to see that he is, indeed, not wearing any underwear. Not regular boxers or decorative panties he wears to rile you up. Nothing.

And you can almost feel back with the fact that he's had to go all night with his poor dick just rubbing against his jeans but then you remember exactly who's fault that is.

Beomgyu waits. Waits for you to touch it, put it in your mouth, do anything but you don't. And he gets impatient.

His hips roll forward and you roll your eyes. "How about tonight," you leave his pants open and crystalline tears run over his cheeks. "I make you cum with only your nipples, huh?"

It's a rhetorical question. You don't care what his answer will be, you'll do whatever you want anyways. But you do know how much it messes with him to tell him exactly what you'll do to him.

"You have the most beautiful tits, don't you baby?" he pants at the words, at the way your eyes sweep over them obsessively. Only looking, letting the suspense build before even you can't bear it any longer.

"Be good for me." And then you're twisting them and pinching them, cupping his pecs in your hands.

His breath hitches when you lean forward and lick over one of the red hard buds pervertedly, tracing it with your tongue and basking in the way he tastes, in the way he sounds. Pausing to listen to his whiny gasp.

He keens as you wrap your lips around his nipple, giving it a careful suck, swirling your tongue around it. Spit starts to coat his chest, he doesn't care, he just wants more, needs more. "Ple-I-i need, i need."

You give one last lick and look up at him, pupils lust-blown, lips puffy. "Need what Gyu?"

He doesn't know. He can't think, he can't decipher which way is left and which way is right when you do this. He's so sensitive, his nipples are so sensitive. It's one of the things you love so much about him, how something as simple as this could cause such a reaction.

"Ne-" He tries to talk but his tongue only lolls out, trying to keep his eyes focused so he can see straight. "Need," He whimpers and squeezes his eyes shut as tightly as possible.

"Shh, relax, I got you."

He gasps and grabs a handful of your hair as your lips attach to his chest once more. You begin to suck again, this time you carefully let your teeth graze his skin, circling around.

Mindless babbles and incoherent words fall from his lips. His eyes squeezed shut, blocking out the sound of chatter outside and the bathroom counter cutting into his spine. Blocking out the world entirely to focus on you.

You and your mouth, sucking harshly before licking over it softly and switching over to the other in a tortuous pattern.

He pushes your head closer, arching his back, urging without words to be a little more rough with his chest, to stop being so nice.

You growl and it vibrates against him, making his head fall back, debauched cries and porno worthy moans escaping.

"M-more," He gasps, "More!"

It's an obligation, one you could hardly ignore.

And so you bite him-hard and he sobs out, tears dripping down his cheeks.

He's so sensitive, his nipples are so sensitive. It's one of the things you love so much about him, how a simple bite could cause such a reaction.

Because to him it’s ecstasy, all encompassing and overwhelming; it’s pure bliss, a drug pumping straight into his veins like the teeth that dig into his flesh, the blunt nails that sink into his back to keep him in place while he nearly screams, the sound only muffled by his shirt that you quickly press into his mouth.

His teeth dig into the fabric as ropes of cum cover his chest and pants. He doesn't care.

Pleasure and pain, mix together like euphoria stealing the breath from his lungs and making his legs tremble in the best way.

His jeans are probably ruined. He's vaguely aware that he's going to have to leave the restaurant like this. Cum-stained pants and a look on his face that tells that he's been fucked. His shirt drool-soaked and rumpled.

The bite inevitably stops, your head coming up to look at him. He feels so sad. He wants more. He wants everything. You look almost smug at the utter ruination written across him face, the way his eyebrows scrunch together, the way his hips rut forward.

Kisses are placed all over his neck and collarbone, sweet before getting rougher and rougher.

Your lips curl against him and he realizes his mistake.

Made a hundred times worse by the fact that he's been a menace all day long.

"I didn't hear you ask for permission pup."

A squeak escapes Beomgyu as your fingers pinch at his nipples once more. Mean and unrelenting at the oversensitivity they now have.

"Now I'm gonna make everyone out there hear you beg for it."

a/n: enjoy this bc it's the last thing i have queued until i get back, which hopefully won't be that much longer than when this comes out

but besides that, hope you enjoy! it's partly also influenced by this post here and the dialogue prompts!

--

taglist is open here: @hobihearteu, @shincode, @lemonhongjoong, @d7dream, @laylasbunbunny, @maru-matt, @xcookiemonsteer

[rumble-aint-a-rumble-without-me]

hello, Dillo! Could I possibly get some headcannons or scenario (whatever you feel like writing) of a very bubbly, sweet, and awkward s/o that just- refuses to acknowledge they like Dally because they believe he'd never in a million years like them back? Like I'm imagining one day they're chilling with Pony and Johnny and they're not being as funny or playful like usual and the boys ask why and they just whisper "I wish I was Dally's type". So could I possibly just have something with Dally's reaction to it all?

if it's too specific or if you just don't feel like it, don't worry! <3

Not Into You

A/N: Hey, hey! This has been a long time coming, and I think it turned out sort of wonky and weird, but I'm kinda happy with it so I hope you are too! Please enjoy!

“They said what?”

Johnny just shrugs and looks over at Ponyboy, shoving a few more fries in his mouth. The plate in front of him is almost empty already, the small pile of ketchup he’d squirted out almost gone too. Ponyboy shrugs too and takes another sip of his coke. They’re both acting way too calm for what they’ve told Dallas.

“I’m serious,” Dally repeats. “They said that? You’re not kiddin’?”

“Why would we lie about that?” Pony runs his finger around the rim of his glass, pushing the straw around as he goes. “Y/N told us they thought you could never like ‘em back because the two of you are so different.”

Dally chews thoughtfully on his own straw and leans a little farther into the corner of the diner booth. Johnny and Ponyboy look unfazed on the other side of the table, the latter doing his best to steal fries off Johnny’s plate without being caught. It doesn’t work and Johnny sends him a small glare. Ponyboy backs off and takes another drink of his soda.

“You’re bein’ serious, right?” Dallas asks again. “Cause if you’re not, I swear, I’ll kill the both of yous.”

Ponyboy rolls his eyes and Dally has half a mind to reach across the table and smack him upside the head. “We told ya we weren’t, alright? They told us yesterday when we were hangin’ out.”

Sighing, Dally stays in his seat and thinks over what to do next. Stark blue eyes trace the lines of the table and the logo on the side of his drink as he weighs his options and works on making up his mind. When he finally does, he stands up with a smug smirk.

“Where are you headin’, Dal?” Johnny asks. He swats at Ponyboy’s hand without looking away from Dallas when Pony’s fingers stray too close to his fries.

“To find Y/N,” he says simply. “I gotta tell ‘em they were wrong.”

He finds them in the lot, kicking around a can that has definitely seen better days. They look smaller than usual. Shoulders drawn in, head down as they mutter softly to themselves. Dally starts to jog a little to cross the street and that’s when they look up. Their eyes find his and they seem to shrink a little more.

“H-hey, Dallas,” they stutter. One corner of their mouth quirks up in a smile that’s all too forced. “What have you been-,”

They’re cut off as the New Yorker reaches out for them, one hand landing on their hip, the other cupping the side of their face as he brings them close together, his lips landing on theirs. Y/N makes a surprised noise into the kiss but doesn’t pull away, so Dally counts that as a win and doesn’t let go. He’s pleasantly surprised himself when he feels their hands rise to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair and keeping him in place.

When they finally break up, they’re both smiling and breathing heavily.

Y/N looks a little lost, eyes wide and confused as they stare at Dallas, so he figures he ought to try and fix that. He leans in again and they meet him halfway and then they’re kissing again in the wide-open lot.

“You gonna explain somethin’ to me now?” Dally asks after pulling back. His thumb smooths over their cheek and Y/N leans into the touch faster than Dally thought they would. “Why in the world did you think I wasn’t gonna like you? And why did you tell Johnny and Ponyboy instead of talkin’ to me?”

Blushing, Y/N looks down at the ground but Dally gently nudges their face back up with a finger under their chin. He raises an eyebrow expectantly and the action gets a small laugh out of them.

“I just thought,” they started quietly, “that you wouldn't like me. We’re so different, y’know? I’m not really the kind of person you usually go out with. I figured you wouldn’t be into me.”

Dally rolls his eyes and pulls them into a hug, tucking their head into his shoulder. He rocks gently and squeezes them tight before dropping a kiss on their hair.

“You ever think about how none of the people I go out with ever stick around? You ever think that maybe since we’re so different we’d do well together?”

“I guess not.”

“We’ll maybe you should’ve, ya idiot,” Dallas chides without any anger or annoyance in his tone. “Maybe then I could’ve taken you out earlier.”

Y/N looks up at him, wide-eyed and shocked. “You wanna take me out? You’re serious?”

“You don’t wanna go out?”

“No! No, I do, it’s just that- you’re serious, you’re not jokin’?”

Rolling his eyes again, Dally leans in to kiss them again, pausing to talk before he connects his lips with theirs. “I’m gonna take you out. Promise. But right now, I’m just gonna kiss you.”

[sha-n-dowbannedlol]

Lucifer — I really miss your face

part 1 │ part 2 │ part 3 │ part 4

an: wow this took a while lmfao,,

CW: enemies to lovers, lucifer hates you lol (part 1), slight angst (part 2), angst in part 3 (BECAUSE THERE'S ANGST IN THE SONG) he insults u in his mind multiple times (part 1), events in lessons 16 ifykyk, also this lowkey follows the og obey me timeline and events but like i dont feel like adding the whole time travel thing lol, suggestive, nsfw is described a bit (part 3)

A parasite.

That is what Lucifer would describe you now, a parasite that has invaded his heart, his mind, perhaps, even his very soul that has long turned dark.

You were a parasite that buried itself within the deep recesses of his thoughts, his feelings, and his emotions, a parasite that burrowed itself into his family and has infected him with endless thoughts of your own self.

Even if you weren't by his side.

He was the one to bear witness to the sight of you opening your pretty little eyes after your nap, recovering from his little brother's rough ministrations on your person, even if it was against Diavolo's orders.

That was cruel of Diavolo, Lucifer thought to himself then, but he knew that the Demon Lord had done it out of concern for your well-being. Because other than the fact that one of his brothers had almost prematurely ended your life—making them the biggest threat to your life at the very moment, Diavolo has also put Belphegor's life into your hands.

At least, that's what he told the remaining six rulers of devildom when they barged into his castle, despite the eldest supposedly being stuck on house arrest.

"It was them that Belphegor had sinned against," Diavolo had explained, his arms crossed against his chest, the tone of his voice making it clear to the brothers that his decision was final.

"Whatever they decide his rightful fate will be is what I will follow."

The Future Demon King then went on to reiterate that not one of them is allowed to see you before you made your decision regarding Belphegor, as he was afraid that the brothers might influence your thinking—one way or another.

Yet, here his right-hand man stood, watching as you open your eyes for the first time since the incident.

Sure, he was here to apologize on his brother's behalf and to attempt to plead his case to save his youngest brother, but that wasn't the sole reason why he was here, and he knows that your current caretaker, Solomon, knew that. And maybe that's why the sorcerer had allowed him to see you, promising not to tell a single soul about this visit.

Or maybe that conniving sorcerer just can't allow an opportunity to make Lucifer, the Avatar of Pride himself, be indebted to him. Either way, Lucifer ought to worry about that at a later time.

"Lucifer," you call out to him softly, effectively pulling him back to reality and away from his thoughts.

Faced with the object of his affection, Lucifer can't help as a hand raises up to fix a strand of his hair to ensure he looked perfect; he stood a little straighter and puffed out his chest—reminiscent of that of a peacock, showing off to attract the attention of a potential mate.

As much as Lucifer wanted to express his concern toward you, his time was limited. There's only so much that he could do before either Barbatos or Diavolo catches wind that something isn't right, and not only will he be the one to receive the consequence of his actions, but possibly Solomon as well.

And so, Lucifer went straight to the point. He can see your eyes widen as the Eldest of the Seven Rulers of Devildom bows his head towards you before he apologized profusely on his brother's behalf.

It's a huge blow to his pride, yes, but it doesn't matter to him.

If you asked him to get on his knees and lick your shoes just to ensure his youngest brothers' safety, he'll do it in a heartbeat. His brothers are always his priority, pride be damned.

You, however, poor, innocent, delicate you, had asked him to do no such thing. Instead, you only asked one simple question:

"Why does Belphegor hate humans so much?"

Lucifer had limited time to be with you, and so, he told you a condensed version of his brother's story, if only to appeal to your emotions. That's one thing that made humans so weak and vulnerable, after all; They're more prone to think with their heart rather than their minds.

And with the serious look on your face, Lucifer had known that he had already accomplished what he set out to do. With a wave, the eldest wished you well, inciting his wishes to see you running around the mansion with his brothers soon.

That was the last time Lucifer got to have alone time with you.

To no one's surprise, you chose to forgive Belphegor and let him go. An act that the youngest was surprised to hear, but delighted in nonetheless. You had also returned to the House of Lamentation, and despite the tension between you and the youngest at first, the Avatar of Sloth eventually ended up warming up to you.

Lucifer once overheard the twins talking about you and heard that Belphie had started warming up to the delightful human because he reminded them of their sister.

He would beg to differ.

To him, you were nothing like Lilith, but whatever ensures your safety and his brother's happiness is good enough for him.

Much to his delight and perhaps, a bit of disdain, ever since that night, you had ended up spending most of your time around the youngest.

With Belphegor's clinginess, and his other brothers' tendency to get jealous of the youngest hogging all of your attention; Lucifer found himself drawing the shortest end of the stick—never finding the time to be able to insert himself in your schedule.

However, with it comes the blessing of being able to think straight—something that he has found himself incapable of doing whenever you were within his immediate area. He finally had the time to sort out his feelings towards you, and what he was supposed to do with it.

The first apparent thought that came to mind was to let you know of it and to make you his... but that was his heart talking, not his mind.

You and he only had a year to be together, and half of it was spent with him hating on your entire existence before even realizing he had feelings for you, and now, the second half is being used by his brothers hogging all of your time left in Devildom.

You were only supposed to be here for a year, you weren't going to stay here forever. Your paths were never meant to converge for a long time, and he knew that.

Even if he confessed to you, and by some form of miracle, you felt the same.... what then?

You go back to the human world and he stays here in the Devildom, with the both of you living your lives miserably until the end of your days?

No, he can't possibly do that to you. He was meant to just be a passing face in your life, and as much as the thought annoys him, you deserved someone who can be by your side. You had your life ahead of you in your own realm, maybe even find a lover who can never treat you as well as he does but will make you happy all the same.

It was just never meant to be. Lucifer had decided then, he was not to speak of his feelings to you, he'd let you live your life thinking that one demon that you had met and spent time with for a year in your life hated you.

He had no room for temptation, no room to doubt his own decision as you spent most of your remaining days with his brothers, down to your last night in the Devildom.

Unfortunately for him, he had forgotten you were a parasite.

An enigma, a tantalizing mystery veiled in ethereal beauty, a cruel riddle he yearned to decipher. It's a cruel twist of fate, denying him the chance to unravel the secrets of this captivating enigma before it slips through his fingertips.

And no matter how strong his resolve may be, it easily crumbles before the very presence of the biggest temptation Lucifer has ever faced; you.

The mere brush of your lips ignited a profound addiction within him, spreading like wildfire through the fibers of his very being. Every thought consumed by you, your body pressed against his, the tantalizing warmth of your kiss.

He wonders if it will be even warmer when he's inside of you.

His solid resolve immediately crumbled at that moment, whispers of the promises he had made to himself dead in the night immediately thrown out of the window amidst your overpowering presence. The new and foreign feeling of his newly made pact mark with you throbs, and the delightful feeling made him lose his mind.

As his lips met the tender warmth of yours, his once impenetrable resolve shattered into fragments, and whispers of the promises he had made to himself dead in the night were abruptly cast aside, discarded with reckless abandon in the face of your overwhelming presence.

A surge of unfamiliar sensations surged through his veins, ignited by the newly made pact mark with you.  In the embrace of this newfound bliss, his sanity slipped away, consumed by the euphoria that rendered him utterly spellbound to you.

That's right. What was he even thinking before? Letting you go to be with someone else? No. You are his, aren't you? These marks confirmed them.

Your words confirmed them.

In the haze of his emotions, all rational thoughts were effortlessly drowned, consumed by an insatiable yearning that rose to the forefront of his consciousness. With a swift and eager motion, his hands found solace in the gentle cradle of your face, his gaze ablaze with intensity as he drank in every delicate contour of your features.

"I've always known you wanted to do this," He whispers, his breath caressing your parted lips, igniting a flicker of electricity upon your skin. You watch his eyes hooded with a primal hunger enough to make you question Asmodeus' title as the Avatar of Lust. "And I know what you'd like to do next as well."

In that instant, his crimson gaze meets yours, and a soft curse escapes his lips. Your eyes meet his, glimmering with a mix of longing and anticipation. Lucifer's insatiable lust courses through his veins, igniting a fire that radiates from the depths of his being, settling low in his abdomen.

The next few hours became a tapestry of euphoria. An intoxicating elation coursed through Lucifer's being, unrivaled by any sensation he had experienced in what could have been centuries.  He found himself immersed in a blissful haze, utterly consumed by the essence of your presence, as if etching the taste of your lips, the gentle touch of your skin against his, into the very fabric of his soul.

In the midst of his bliss, his guard faltered and, in a moment of vulnerability, words slipped from his tongue that were never meant to be uttered.

"I love you,"

He hadn't noticed his mistake at the time, but you did.

In the ensuing silence that followed such a passionate night where you both found yourselves amidst the chaos of his usually pristine sheets, his arms pulling you close, you didn't shy away from bringing it up.

"You... mentioned something." You spoke, voice quiet and still breathless from the exertion that lasted for hours.

"I've said many things throughout the night. You'll have to be more specific." He responds, voice almost a hum, and if you didn't know any better, you'd think there's a hint of delight in his words.

"You said..." You take a deep breath, deciding there isn't a need to beat around the bush. "You said 'I love you',"

Lucifer does not falter.

Fear, nervousness, panic, and other feeble emotions are foreign concepts to him, for he was meticulously crafted in perfection and shall forever embody perfection even as his once celestial halo transformed into demonic horns.

The Morning Star, God's favorite angel.

The Avatar of Pride, Diavolo's favorite demon.

In essence, such emotions would never be the catalyst for error. After all, Lucifer doesn't make mistakes.

"You must have been mistaken." Lucifer spoke, voice deep, emotionless.

At least, that's what he'd like to believe.

"I'd never feel such a thing for you."

When the next day came, Lucifer woke up to an empty bed.

And the day after that, and the ones after that.

Just as Lucifer had anticipated, you both went your separate ways. You returned to your world, and he's stuck in his own. The memories of that night were the only thing keeping him going — a haunting recollection of your touch and the solace of your warmth.

True to your parasitic nature, even in your absence, you had woven an intricate web that ensnared his very being, leaving a void—vast and consuming—in his heart that has long turned to ice.

Your presence lingers like a haunting melody, woven into the very fabric of his surroundings; In the shadows of the House of Lamentation and the echoing halls of RAD, he glimpses fleeting reflections of you in every corner. Your presence whispers through the corridors, and echoes of your name resonate in the playful banter of his younger brothers.

Despite it all, he didn't dare reach out.

Even after establishing a schedule of communication between you and his brothers, he dared not include himself in the mix. Stuck in a silent yearning that remains unvoiced, buried beneath layers of restraint and unspoken desires.

Lucifer knows not where the future will take him, where these feelings will take him.

All he knows for sure is that he'd never love like this again.

[batchilla]

Fata Morgana Chapter one: A Favor Given.

Content warning for some … outdated views on women. Don’t worry, you can fix him.

The tournament of Fata Morgana brought with it all the excitement of a tournament, but given it fell so close to the annual Festival of Cupid, it held more still. For as well as the honour of victory, a gold purse and acclaim, the winner was given a crown of roses, to give to any maiden he saw fit to choose, and to open the Ball of Cupid by sharing a dance with said maiden. Captain Jason Todd, the knight of Arkham, had won the past three years, and each year, the same maiden had been given the crown.

You.

You, the princess, and only daughter of the king of a small yet ambitious nation. You, who while understanding that your affection for the hero of the battle of Arkham, the captain of your personal guard, could never be fully realised or acted upon. You, who had the last three years watched him compete with baited breath hoping to dance with him once more. You, who after he had first presented you the crown three years hence, had given him a favour the next two years. You, who on the eve of his fourth tournament, are sneaking down to where the competitors have pitched their tents around the competition field, to do so once more.

The air is warm, crickets and the nickering of horses punctuated by the occasional voice. They are stoic, not rowdy or drunken, that will come tomorrow when the contest is over. Tonight, the sense of anticipation and solemn preparation lingers over the field. You find his tent with relative ease, it’s blood red fabric near black in the darkness, but his steed is tied outside and pays you little mind as you hesitate outside the tent flap. There had been no hesitation when you slipped past your guards. No hesitation in deciding to come here. Still, you hesitate now, when the only thing separating you from him is canvas, struck with nerves over what exactly you would say to him.

Your stalling is ended by the tent's flap opening to reveal the Knight of Arkham standing there, staring you down looking less than impressed. Your mouth goes dry as the desert.

He stands there in loose pants, and a white shirt with the top eyelets undone to just above the lowest point of his pectoral muscles. His hair is mused and out of order. You feel your breath catch, and it is only your lifelong etiquette lessons that prevent you from doing something completely humiliating and degenerate like bite your lip. Granted you saw him nearly every day, but there was something about seeing him out of plate, seeming so much himself rather than maintaining stoic professionalism.

“Your royal highness, you ought not be here so late - and where is your guard? God preserve me…” He runs a hand through his hair in frustration.

You try not to stare at the way the action causes his arms to move and flex, or how soft his hair seems. Instead, you force yourself to look him in the eyes, and reply.

“All is well, surely. These tents are filled with knights. Men of honour. I am perfectly safe.” You speak softly, so as not to draw attention to your presence, despite what you verbally claim, you know full well that being undiscovered will better serve you.

Captain Todd-Wayne opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens it again. Sighs. You suppress an urge to smile, practically able to see his mind working on how to respond to that without offending your feminine sensibilities.

“Your Highness while your father’s knights - myself included - would of course never consider harming you, the matter persists you are without escort.”

You bat your eyes, as if the thought hadn’t occurred to you. “You are the captain of my guard, and have acted as my escort a great many times.”

His jaw clenches, and he makes no attempt to rebut the statement. “Who was meant to be guarding your door this evening?” He asks tiredly.

“Sir West.” You supply.

“Well. Rest assured that by sundown tomorrow he shall be thoroughly reprimanded for allowing this to happen.” He says, anger brewing under his carefully stoic features.

You sigh, but do not argue. You came for a reason, and you will not be distracted by his ire in your goals accomplishment.

You reach into your pocket, and produce a thick, blood red ribbon of finest velvet.

You hold it out, and he takes it, carefully not touching your hand, but where the ribbon hangs from your fingers.

“Best of luck in the morrow.” You say softly. You hope he understands what you really mean. What you cannot say.

You hope he knows you love him.

You turn back into the night before he can respond, the soft look of awe on his face, though the same each year, too great a source of pain and longing for you to take.

___________________________________________

Later that night, Jason lays on the temporary bed in his tent, staring at the ceiling as he idly runs the ribbon through each digit, feeling its weight, its softness. He slides it through his fingers, pulling it through and winding between each with his opposite hand. He closes his eyes and his breath shakes as he recalls its owner. Imagines it in her hair, tying it up, exposing her neck and …No. No. No.

He clenches his hand into a fist, his eyes snapping open. He was a knight. Her Knight, Her protector.

He would not dishonour her with his perverse thoughts.

He refused to.

She had done him a great kindness, in extending her favour. Clearly she knew of his affections, given his actions at the three Tournaments of Fata Morgana past even a woman could deduce the truth of his pathetic circumstance.

It was a great kindness indeed that she allowed him to indulge, one night a year in an unreciprocated fantasy, even feeding into it with this, the most generous of gifts.

Fata Morgana. An illusion. How terribly fitting, his lone solace, the one mercy he allowed his starved soul. To dance with her, once a year. To lay the wreath of roses in her hair, and pretend he was more. That he was worthy.

That he was not the second, adopted, common son of his father. That he hadn’t been sent off to be a squire so young that the Wayne estate no longer felt like home. That he had risen to his honoured rank of his position because he deserved it.

They’d said he was. The king had called him a hero. The people called him a legend. It would not surprise anyone if his story outlived him three generations. Jason Todd, the hero of the battle of Arkham. He had rallied his men, and turned what should have been a massacre into an unparalleled victory, but when the screams fell silent and the dust settled, he had disappeared. He had been declared dead. Turned into a martyr. A fallen hero.

Until he had been found in the woods of the Al Ghul estate, with no memory of who he was or how he came to be there, six months later.

The greatest of healers had helped his mind return - but what happened to him in the lost six months escaped him still.

His Father had asked him to recover at the Wayne estate. He had refused. He said it was duty. It was. But not to his king. It was duty to her, and to his heart. He had not spoken to his father since.

He knew she surely saw only a knight. How could she see more, given how little he was? A knight pinning after her to be sure, but not one she would seriously consider as a marriage prospect. He was not heir, afterall. He was not respected, he was a novelty. A fearsome novelty.

Sleep finds him eventually, a merciful reprieve from his spiralling consciousness. Only to take him away to the same nightmare he has had each night since his return.

That flash of sky, of rocks ascending skyward, the smell of salt and of decay. Pain. Nothing.

[dilatorywriting]

Monster Mayhem: Don't Fear the Reaper [Part 2]

Gender Neutral Reader x Rook Hunt Word Count: 3.4k

Summary: 'Hello Darkness, my old friend. I see you've come to stalk my store again.' Or, why fear Death when you can just Pavlov him with cookies into carrying your groceries?

A/N: Based on this wonderful brain rot from a very lovely anon! Continued apologies to anyone who actually knows French, because I do not lol. So Rook's babbling is all Google baby

[PART 1] [PART 2]

“I hear you’ve been dealing with an infestation.”

You arched a brow and pointedly settled the last of the little, strawberry, tarts into its box with a heavy plap. You took your time piping a neat dollop of cream on the top and then fixing the tiny sugar berry adornments into a smiley face.

“You’re free to call the health inspector,” you intoned, handing over the box. “That’ll be ten copper, your highness.”

Riddle’s face went as red as the dessert in his hands.

“Don’t call me that!” he hissed, ducking back further beneath the hood of his cloak. The cloak that was clearly made of the finest, crimson, silks money could buy. The one with real gold embroidered along the crisp edges and an ivory clasp shaped into a literal crown. 

You shrugged. At least he’d moved past demanding outright that ‘of course he wasn’t the prince! How dare you! To think yourself so presumptuous! As if royalty would ever even consider visiting this hovel of yours! Off with your head!’ Those had been a fun few weeks.

You poked around in your stacks upon stacks of baked goods and unearthed a little, cherry, cookie. You slipped it into the box alongside his tart and hoped that counted as a metaphorical pat on the head. There, there, little lord. This humble one will tell no one of your secret, commoner, shames.

Some of that choked-red color started to fade from his cheeks, and Riddle accepted the offering with an expression that on any normal person you might have called a pout.  

“I was trying to be tactful,” he spat, tucking the bribe further into the packaging with a stiff twitch of the fingers. “But I don’t know why I even bother.”

You shrugged again and made brief eye contact with the terribly unsubtle guard stationed at your front door. Cater, or Carter, or something like that. He greeted everyone who walked by with a cheerful little wave and a wink. He was charismatic, and loud, and apparently—as you had discovered when you’d tried to hand him a little slice of cake as a consolation treat for putting up with his charge’s emotionally constipated nonsense—hated sweet things with every fiber of his being. You didn’t trust him for a second.

The pair of you locked gazes over Riddle’s shoulder, and his lips quirked into a smirk that was sharper than it was fond. Ah. So it was one of those days, was it?

“Is there something else you wanted?” you prodded intentionally, as Riddle turned to make his retreat.

The Prince paused for a moment, and you watched his teeth worry a bit at his lower lip—a nervous habit he claimed forwards and backwards he absolutely did not possess. After a moment of silent deliberation, he straightened his spine into something stiff and regal.

“There are rumors going around that your business may be suffering from a… pest problem,” he said, like he was chewing over each word individually. “And while I firmly believe that people should endeavor to work through their own problems, if this is indeed a problem…” he paused, hands tightening a bit around the pastry box tucked neatly between his palms before looking back up to meet your gaze with that harsh sort of determination that always made him seem very much like someone who ought to be ruling over entire kingdoms. “I’m certain the Royal Family would be more than happy to come to the aid any of their subjects, should they ask for it.”

You ducked your head in a nod that you hoped was the appropriate level of polite for such a declaration.

“Your concern is appreciated, your high—”

His face twisted up in a sneer and you beamed.

“—Highly esteemed customer,” you finished with a chirp. “But I’m perfectly capable of crushing a few cockroaches.”

Riddle nodded at you tightly and made a swift exit. Cater flicked his fingers at you in a half-salute and the pair continued on down the cobblestone street and out of sight.

“Do you actually have pests here?” a tiny old lady asked from her place perusing your shelves. She looked like an onion that had been left in the sun for a couple dozen years, and the question seemed kinder than it did probing. Like she would happily help you hunt down the little buggers herself. “Roaches, I mean…?”

“Oh no,” you reassured. “It’s much bigger.”

You watched the poor thing nearly go into conniptions and offered her a cup of fresh chai on the house.

.

.

As much as you had kindly reassured your most affluent patron otherwise, you were indeed suffering under the aforementioned ‘pest problem.’ And while your squishing abilities were normally the stuff of legend, you didn’t think there was a boot big enough in the whole world to rid you of your current guest.

“Quelle très belle matinée! And made all the better by my dearest friend!”

You grunted and let the door slip shut with a tinkle behind him. Rook nearly bounced to your oven and peered inside with all the eagerness of a wide-eyed child. You’d long since learned not to bother yanking him back from the flames. They never even seemed to warm his pale cheeks, let alone melt him into the puddle of charred goo that they rationally ought to.

“Macarons?” he chirped, and turned to you like he was waiting for a Good Noodle Sticker. He leaned closer, and you watched the sputtering heat sway around and away from him like a tangible thing. He sniffed a few times, looking thoughtful. “Flavored delightfully with that lovely rosewater syrup you were steeping last night?

You hummed in affirmation and handed him a little almond cookie for his efforts. It felt a bit like training a dog.

The first time you’d told a dejected looking Rook that he could eat his treat in your shop rather than using it an as excuse to punt him out the door, he’d practically glowed. And had apparently taken the offer as an extension of a permanent invitation. He still waited patiently at the front door each morning, still marveled at the merry jingle of the bell when you allowed him entrance, and always wiped his feet. You’d hoped a bit that perhaps overexposure to your meager, repetitive, livelihood would have him eventually bowing out from boredom. But if anything, he seemed to have become more enamored with your dealings as the weeks passed.

And now that you’d given him express permission to hover, his originally vested interest had become outright sticky. There was no more plastering himself distantly to the window when he could go and literally shove his face into an oven, or perch himself at your shoulder like a wide-eyed owl as you tried to whip egg whites into peaks without repeatedly elbowing him in the gut. He puttered after you like a duck quacking for its mother, spouting off every question under the sun about temperatures, and consistencies, and the merits of baking powder versus soda.

“And these are meant to be… burned? Yes?”

“Dehydrated,” you sighed. “And not these. You’re thinking of the meringue cookies.”

“Ah, I see. Those crunchy delicacies from yesterday that looked to be little clouds,” he hummed, nodding along. The feather on his hat bobbed over a hot coal and sparked with embers. You reached out with a frustrated huff to whack the walking fire hazard back into a gently smoking mess rather than the start of an outright blaze. “Merci, merci!” Rook trilled as you beat him with a damp towel. Black soot floated through the air like dust motes under the sun, and he grinned through your grouchy manhandling as he always did. “Ahh, cher pâtissier! You always do dote on me so!”

You were about to argue back about how keeping him from unintentionally annihilating your entire kitchen was not ‘doting,’ when your eyes trailed over something strangely gunky and off colored stuck on the back of his cloak. You leaned forward to pluck up whatever it was, and Rook’s fingers flew out to snatch up your wrist before you could even blink.

“Please pardon me, mon cœur!” he beamed, the lines of his leather gloves a soft weight against your flour dusted skin. “I have tried to be most diligent in keeping myself clean for our morning rendezvous! But alas, it would seem I’ve missed a spot this time around.”

Part of you was sorely tempted to ask what—who—had apparently dirtied his robes. But you decided ultimately that it was still far too early to be discussing the remnants of the unfortunate victims off his hit list, and honestly you really weren’t sure you would have cared even with another four hours of sleep and a full mug of caffeine in you. So you waved him off and went back to worrying over your spice racks and tallying cups of flour.

Rook pillowed his chin in his hand and watched you putter about with a sigh that sounded far too besotted for anyone’s good. Those eerily green eyes of his seemed to glow in the lowlight, and he only gushed even more ridiculously when you launched a wet rag at the mess on his back and demanded he mop up his own nonsense or get out.  

.

.

You didn’t realize that Rook was slowly staying later and later into the day until Ace came by to collect your weekly booklet of receipts and would not step through the door.

“What are you, contagious?” you harumphed, pointedly leaning over the threshold to shove your collection of bits and bobs into his waiting hands rather than stepping out into the street to join him.

“More like superstitious,” he snipped. He crossed his arms and gave your shop a pointed once over. “I thought Egg Boy was overexaggerating, but you really just…” He waved his hands around his head for a moment before letting out an angry huff that sounded a bit too much like an overboiled kettle. “Don’t you have any sense of self-preservation?!”

“You literally ate raw dough off my floor less than a month ago,” you accused.

“I already told you I didn’t know it wasn’t cooked!—And that’s not the point!” he seethed. “Don’t you realize who that is?” he continued, voice dipping into one of those angry whispers that was never really a whisper.

You rolled your eyes and turned to shout over your shoulder. “Rook Hunt?”

The blonde instantly perked up from his place perched by the counter, where he’d very clearly been watching this entire exchange with a lazily curling grin.

“Oui! However can I be of assistance to you, my lovely, darling, pâtis—”

You turned back to Ace.

“Yes, I know who he is.”

“—And of course I know who you are as well!” Rook barreled onwards, slipping forward to drape himself along your shadow like a cat might settle itself into a sunbeam. He never leaned on you outright, but he always made a point to get close enough that he may as well have. “The wonderful artiste who has shown me nothing but the greatest kindness! Ah, mon humain préféré! With your endless hospitality and words sweeter than even the finest of the confections you craft!”

Ace’s expression twisted up like the very idea of another living being considering you to be even halfway pleasant was a war crime. Which, you know, totally fair. But before your redheaded acquaintance could continue with his appalled gaping, Rook leaned over your shoulder with a smile that looked not quite right on his face. The wide brim of his hat obscured your view of the rest of him—casting the remaining slopes of his sharp features into inky darkness.

“And but of course, I know you as well, Monsieur Trappola!”

Whatever rotten, sour, look Ace had been pulling froze over into something nearly deathlike. He went so pale so quickly your thoughts swung back to wondering if maybe he really was contagious with something.

Your shaky friend? Fellow gossip? associate audibly gulped, but when neither he nor your leech of a guest said anything further, you prompted them both with a vaguely curious, “Oh? You’ve met before?”

“Not recently,” Rook trilled, sounding positively delighted. “But I suppose I am familiar with everyone in this petite ville one way or another.”

You hummed, not particularly satisfied with that non-answer of an explanation. But your brief bought of inquisitiveness was quickly being overshadowed by the very real risk that Ace may actually topple over frothing at the mouth and twitching like a rabid racoon at your doorstep. Which would no doubt be terrible for business.

“You better get going,” you prompted, debating giving him a shove with your foot. “Before you start running behind on your pickups.”

“Right…” Ace muttered, swallowing past a lump in his throat. “I should—I’ll be doing that. Leaving. I’ll be leaving.”

“Adieu, Monsieur Trappola!~” Rook called, as the door slid shut with a pleasant tingle. “I’m certain we’ll be seeing you!”

There was a lingering, creaking, da-dong sound from overhead and you wondered idly if maybe there was something a bit off with your bells.

.

.

That afternoon, after you finally heaved an exhausted sigh of relief and flipped the ‘OPEN’ sign at your storefront to ‘CLOSED,’ Rook was still perched on the little stool you’d set out for him. The late-day sunshine cast him in all sorts of unfamiliar shades of gold, and while the shadows beneath his feet had always seemed to stretch a bit long and sit a bit oddly, they twitched even more strangely in the glow of the summer light. You blinked at him in open surprise, and he blinked back at you.

“What are you still doing here?”

“Mon chéri, I am always here!” he chirped, and you rolled your eyes towards the ceiling in a silent bid for patience.

“No you’re not,” you argued. “I think I would have noticed.”

Rook held a gloved hand to his mouth to smother a laugh and shook his head at you like you were just the funniest little thing.

“As you say, my tenacious pâtissier.”

You sighed and moved to untie the ribbon of your apron. “Whatever. I suppose I could use your help anyways. I need to run to the markets.”

The Bounty Hunter’s eyes lit with that familiar, sparkling, enthusiasm and he clasped his fingers in his lap with a gust of breath that sounded like it rattled every one of his bones as it squeaked its way out of him.You narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. You hoped he hadn’t caught whatever mystery ailment Ace had been sagging under when he’d arrived at your door that morning.

“Shopping!” he outright beamed, putting the glitter of the afternoon sun to shame. “Une nouvelle aventure avec mon amour! Et en journée! Temps à passer avec—”

“Enoughwith your nonsense,” you groaned, tossing your dirtied apron onto a free hook. “Do you want to come or not?”

“But of course! I would be most honored to—”

You shoved a wicker basket into his hands and hurriedly moved to usher him out the door before he could begin monologuing in earnest.

Rook walked the familiar path to the markets like a tourist on holiday—stopping every now and again to wax poetic about the way that a potted flower looked in the afternoon light, staring in awe at each bizarre crack in the pavement as if it was a natural marvel worth gawking at. He muttered something dazedly under his breath at one point about ‘what messes might embed themselves in these fissures of the earth,’ but you carried on like you’d gone blind and deaf. A skill you’d become incredibly proficient with as of late.

When you finally arrived at the little hub of stalls, there was an audible gasp from somewhere in the thin crowds. You decided once again that you were better off feigning impairment and pushed onwards as if you had no idea that people were parting around you and your new companion like the pair of you were riddled with plague sores. The gossipy man who sold you your favorite strawberries went a bit green when you approached, and you continued merrily with your farce.

You had only just leaned forward to get a better look at some of the berries you tended to hoard like a dragon to gold, when suddenly the bright reds and blues beneath your fingers went nearly grey—nearly rotten. There was a long, sharp, shadow curling along the fruit. Rook was hovering at your shoulder, as he of course tended to do, and you glanced between him and the twisting, creeping, darkness swallowing the contents of the little stall in front of you. Clearly it was his purple-clad frame blocking the sunlight and casting all these weird shadows, but it was still a bit bizarre. It was like the brightness itself was being sucked from the afternoon, rather than just the cool play of the light that it ought to be.

You reached out curiously to poke a finger into the dancing bits of darkness and were surprised to find that it felt like something solid. A tangible sort of bite against your skin. Something sharp, and cold as the grave—

“Perhaps the melons, mon cœur!” Rook chirped loudly, redirecting your prodding with a cheery nudge. “They smell enticingly ripe.”

You hummed, your musings on the unnatural settling into the back of your mind in favor of reaching out to give the fruits a good shake. They did feel quite nice.

Rook swayed a bit at your shoulder, and you glanced up at him with an arched brow.

“Are you alright?”

“I do not often spend time in the sun,” he admitted, and you blinked once again at those lanky shadows before turning on him with a tight, little, frown.

“You should have said something,” you scolded. “I would have brought you a—” your eyes landed on his wide brimmed hat and its cheerful, black, feather as it bobbed in the breeze. “…never mind. But you still should have told me.”

“Ah, your worry is a balm upon ma pauvre âme!” he crooned, resting his palm against his heart. “What has a wretched creature such as I done to earn such warm regard? And alas—what then could this poor beast do to maintain such a blessing?”

“He could help me find a bag of milled flour for one thing,” you sighed, hoping to derail the burgeoning soliloquy.

“But of course!” he chirped and immediately darted off around a corner to hunt down what you’d asked of him.

You gathered up a heaping portion of fresh berries (back to the their healthy, summer, glow now that your shadow had been sent away), and ruffled around in your bag to retrieve the coppers needed to pay for your haul. The vendor reached out a shaky hand to clasp at your wrist and you raised a brow at him curiously.

“Are you okay?” he hissed, still a very unpleasant shade of sea-sick.

“Are any of us really?” you intoned blandly, and dropped the required coins neatly on the cart.

You’d only just turned back around when Rook came trotting back through the rows of carts—three gigantic sacks of flour tossed over one shoulder. It looked absolutely ridiculous, with the mass of them rising far past his head and setting his hat at an awkward slope.

“That seems a little excessive,” you sighed.

“Non, non!” he argued. “You are nearly out! There will certainly not be enough to prepare both the croissants and that lovely chocolate cake you were planning to make.”

“Oh,” you blinked, and mentally tried to tally up whatever had remained of your provisions. He was probably right—you’d gone a bit overboard experimenting with different types of pretzel dough. “You don’t mind carrying that, do you?” you asked with a furrowed brow. “That all looks like it weighs nearly as much as you do.”

Rook chuckled pleasantly under his breath, and somehow managed to dip forward into a bow that didn’t end with the enormous sacks balanced atop his shoulders spilling forward all over the road.

“It would be my pleasure, mon cœur,” he smiled, very nearly a purr.

You shrugged and went back to meandering contentedly through the stalls, happy to push all of the menial physical labor off onto someone who seemed more than delighted to relish in its ache. Rook trailed merrily at your heels—the sun heavy at his back and highlighting each step with those dripping, inky, shadows. The faint outline of a ragged, hooded, robe brushed nearly unseen through the dirt, broken only by trailing, white, puffs of loose flour.

.

.

.

TAG LIST [CLOSED]

@marvelous-maxi, @ilikefanfics4, @jackalope08, @crocwork-clockodile, @cosmicobubisi, @buttplugs-stuff, @pomefleur, @decemebercircus, @ailynyan, @genzombie, @meliade-ot, @sunlightocean, @theofficialantitherapist, @hermiona18, @sailorenthusiast, @fantasy-dating-sim-trash, @thefiasco-onyourblock, @insideous-beez, @its-clockwork-princess

@novaloptr, @imlost-sendhelp, @matcha-berry @preciosayorgullosa @whoretaglia, @kookygirlwholikescookiesandcoke, @nanauedorian, @trixeraptops, @voxnipop, @starkling25, @thedum1, @horcrux-alchemist, @sleepykitty21, @apathicace, @instantregret101, @nekanecorvus, @looney-mori, @re-ducing, @my2phetaliaheadcanons, @naughtybodypillow, @rendy-a, @carmen-404, @candy284, @thealiennamedterry, @their-name-is-fake, @huetolog, @glacticrose, @seraphinariddle, @rabioa, @sn00zl4x, @dreasimping, @jeidoreech, @ai-dev, @galaxyshine24-7, @fatally-incorrect, @juulranch, @camrastuff, @nocteetdie, @stargaryengirl, @livinglovingtrainwreck