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starhvney · 2 days

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𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: mcd laurance x reader

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: when your lover can’t calm himself from a nightmare, you try to calm him through a connection only you can give

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒: angst with comfort, shadow knight laurance, once again i present laurance angst, yet another fic where i write laurance obsessing over reader’s safety, do i have a thing for it? yeah, do something about it, also can you catch the canon line i slid in here? i couldn’t help myself

𝐂𝐖: nsfw/smut. unprepped sex, large size difference, does this count as monster fucking? not really? but he’s a big boy

𝐀/𝐍: thank you to @thebunnednun for giving me this prompt!! shadow knight laurance *convulses* anyways i hope this is coherent guys i wrote most of it last night while half asleep ahshah

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝑻𝑯𝑰𝑺 𝑷𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑨𝑰𝑵𝑺 𝑵𝑺𝑭𝑾 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻, 𝑰𝑭 𝒀𝑶𝑼 𝑨𝑹𝑬 𝑼𝑵𝑫𝑬𝑹𝑨𝑮𝑬 𝑶𝑹 𝑼𝑵𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑻𝑨𝑩𝑳𝑬 𝑾𝑰𝑻𝑯 𝑺𝑬𝑿𝑼𝑨𝑳 𝑪𝑶𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑻 𝑷𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑺𝑬 𝑫𝑵𝑰.

you had been just there.

right at his fingertips.

at the comfortable distance where he knew he could protect you if something went wrong.

but it’s never enough, is it?

one second you were next to him, the next you were separated by what could practically be considered a herd of shadow souls. he didn’t know where they came from. he hadn’t even sensed them. but now they were overwhelming him, and overwhelming you, too.

he had even transformed, using every ounce of power he could to tear through the shadows around him. his movements still somehow managed to be too slow—too sluggish. each one he cut down it seemed like two more were on him, and two more were on you.

your screams were haunting. over everything he could hear, your cries for his help echoed against his eardrums, shaking his head like a bell.

“laurance, please!”

he has to get to you. he has to. he thinks he can as he slices through several of them, before one of them leaps towards him, knocking him down onto the ground with a groaning screech.

“no! get off of me!” he groans, struggling to push it away enough to grab his sword.

immediately it digs its claws into his cheek, and despite trying to turn away the sensation doesn’t leave his skin.

“laurance!” the soul cries, the empty and dark void of its mouth mimicking your voice. your distress.

it was mocking your pain in his face.

his vision is tinted red.

“laurance!”

he’s going to kill it. he has to. he has to kill.

“laurance, get up!”

his vision goes dark, but he can move again, and he lunges forward, pinning down the soul closest to him and keeping it there. he’s going to kill it once his eyes focus again.

he got it. where’s his sword?

“laurance?!” the soul asks in a panic, its voice clearer and a lot more like yours than the warbled disjointed one from before.

it felt smaller, too.

his hands squeeze against the arms of the creature to keep it in place. he knows he has to kill it, but there’s a part of him screaming at him to stop, but it’s drowned by the echoes of your screams for his help. what’s happening? why is it so dark right now?

“it’s me!” you hiccup, eyes wide and breaths short.

this wasn’t him right now.

no, not when your body was telling you to run. that you were in danger. not when you look up to see unfocused and rageful dark red irises trying to focus on something, his chest heaving as a whirlwind of unstable emotions seemed to batter against his rib cage.

you knew something was wrong when you had woken up so suddenly and so late, your skin sticky with sweat and feeling strangely on edge as your mind wandered to the possibilities.

why do you feel like you’re in danger right now? was it a predator? something lurking in the shadows of your room?

when you’d turned to get a look at your lover, you had your answer. he hadn’t completely transformed in his sleep, his armor hadn’t formed against his body and he still wore the thin and loose linen sleepwear he’d gone to bed with last night.

but it wasn’t loose anymore—he was nearly bulging out of it his already tall legs now hanging over the edge of the frame. his skin wasn’t that beautiful olive shade, but rather a desaturated almost deathly pale color. and his eyes. they weren’t open, but the skin underneath them showed unnaturally red veins that webbed from his eyelids just under the skin.

what was he dreaming about that had him transforming into a shadow knight in his sleep?

after some hesitation, you had reached out to his cheek to wake him up, calling out his name as he seemed to almost growl in his sleep. you almost regret your decision when blood red eyes snap open in a frenzy, and a split second later you find yourself forcefully pinned against the sheets.

you can see it. the instability on his face. he wasn’t here with you in this moment, his judgment was clouded by whatever rage had overtaken him in his dream. but what could you do? he already had you, his hands holding down your arms rather painfully and heavy body pinning you in place. the only thing you could possibly be capable of was to soothe him with your words.

“laurance… it’s me. it’s me.” you whisper, cursing at how your voice was the least bit assuring as it shook. “you were dreaming. you’re here with me.”

his chest heaves with ragged breaths, expression twisted in a lost and distressed frenzy. the startling blood red of his eyes dart across your face, before locking onto your eyes.

there he is.

you see a piece of him return, as rage turns to horror and realization.

“you—it’s you.” he manages to get through disjointed breaths, whatever scene that was looping in his mind clearly still clouding his ability to calm down.

“it’s me.” you whisper.

he closes his eyes, pulling in a sharp breath as he lets go of your wrists and moves his hands to beside your head. he ducks his head, shoulders shaking and mouth curling in an expression that could only be described as pure self loathing.

“…it’s okay.” you breathe, your words quickly cut off by his own.

“it’s not.”

it’s harsher than he probably intended. his voice is hoarse and deep, an underlying growl there that he can’t seem to get rid of. you watch as a few sparks of ember float up into the air, fizzling out thankfully before it could hit your sheets or spark the wooden ceiling.

he was going to hurt you. you. you. you.

a second goes by and shakily you raise your hands, cupping his cheeks. “laurance. look at me.”

his jaw clenches and unclenches. once, twice, three, before he cracks open his eyes again, focusing on you.

“i’m okay. see?” you keep your voice hushed, thumbs running along the red veins beneath his eyes. “you need to calm down so you can transform back.”

“i ca—i can’t. you should’ve heard—no. no.” he shakes his head, lowering it again—but this time resting his face into the crook of your neck.

your heart sinks. he sounds so unstable. so panicked.

fingers drift up to the nape of his neck, massaging into the tense muscles there and drifting to the now impossibly broad expanse of his shoulders. they seemed to double your own, his form completely swallowing yours as he leaned over you. he breathes in, taking in your scent as his lips pressed against the juncture of your shoulder and neck. it makes your heart rate involuntarily spike, a shuddering breath leave your lips in a mix of fear and something else you don’t want to admit to.

a few more beats pass like this, you frozen under him like prey caught in the jaws of a predator, before his lips part and he bites down onto your skin.

his teeth were sharp, and a small whimper of discomfort involuntarily leaves your lips at the feeling.

it makes him flinch back and freeze in place, like once again he hadn’t even realized his own actions—the primal part of him taking over his rational thoughts.

“i can’t.” he mutters lowly, moving to get up, like he was going to leave. “

“no.” you quickly wrap your arms around his shoulders, trying to pull him down to you but instead pulling yourself up to him.

“i’m going to hurt you. i don’t have… control over myself right now—“

you gulp, before slinking your legs around his waist and pulling your hips up to connect with his.

he inhales sharply. “what are you doing?”

“you’re here with me. let me show you.”

“no. no, i’ll hurt you.” he says, groaning as you pull yourself closer and roll yourself into him.

there’s a low warning of your name from his lips, forehead dropping to rest against your collarbone. “you don’t know what you’re doing—”

“i do.” you reassure, cutting him off. “i want you.”

he settles back down with a groan, lifting his head to look at you. “i’m dangerous to you right now. why can’t you understand?”

leaning up, you connect your lips with his and he groans against you. you can feel his self control beginning to crumble, and the much thicker bulge pressing between your legs through the material of his pants and your nightgown.

“i understand.” you say. “i understand that i love you more.”

“you’re going to be,” he groans, the deeper timbre of his voice sending a shock of electricity down your spine. “the undoing of me.”

he rolls his hips down into yours, and you gasp. regularly, what was under his belt was nothing to scoff at—his flirtatious remarks irritatingly wasn’t just all talk. but now? in this form where he towered not one but two heads taller than you? just from him pressing into you alone you could tell he was huge.

this is what he needed, though. you can already feel the tense trembling of his muscles beginning to calm, his ragged and uneven breathing turning to just a shuddering tempo.

his hands find themselves on your hips, his thumbs pressing into the soft skin. “is this… what you want? tell me right now, because i’m losing my grip.”

you were almost ashamed of the damp spot that had already begun to form on your panties, and how just his touch was enough to send shockwaves through your nervous system.

“yes.”

it’s like a switch is flipped, whatever wall of self control his conscious had put up crumbling to the ground. his hips push down into yours, harsher this time, while his lips press into your skin. he begins to pull your skin between his teeth, suckling bruises against it while his hands no less than tear your nightgown from your body.

cool air hits your skin, a small gasp leaving your lips at his sudden eager need to have his skin on yours. his hands briefly leave your side, only to pull his own clothes and briefs from his form. you don’t dare to look down, the length that was pressing against your thigh enough to intimidate you.

“i—“ he stutters, the internal war being fought in his head stopping his movements. “i’ll hurt you. i don’t know if i can control myself.”

tilting your head up, you kiss him once again, fingers threading into his hair and massaging his scalp. “you won’t.”

he shudders against you, breathing in your scent and deepening the kiss. eagerly he shifts your hips, moving you closer with one hand and dragging the fat tip of his cock against your clit. you were already well lubricated with the slick that covered your folds, but you still weren’t sure if it would fit. regardless his lips continue to devour yours, pulling each breath from your lips and leaving you dizzy as he shifts his hips up, dragging the length against your folds and pulling back. the mere girth of it was startling, but you don’t get to think about it for long until you’re subjected to it, the tip bullying it’s way through your entrance.

he slowly keeps pushing in, making you feel like you were going to split in half by his size. the stretch was entirely new, an uncomfortable one you hadn’t felt before. it was almost too much, but you didn’t want him to stop, either.

but you needed to breathe. managing to part from the messy lock of your lips with a gasp, you throw your head back with a shuddered moan. he keeps pulling out just so he can push back in deeper, each thrust somehow filling you out impossibly more. your body was protesting against the push, squeezing against his length like your insides were trying to shove him back out. each time you fluttered around his cock he’d groan lowly under his breath, the noise a gravelly sound that rattled against your ribs and send a lightheaded wave of pleasure up your spine.

your eyelashes flutter down, a shocked gasp leaving your lips when you see he’d barely pushed halfway through. he pulls his attention from the spot on your collarbone he’d been leaving bruising kisses on, eyes darting across your face as he keeps bullying his way inside. it was bordering on being painful, but the shocks of pleasure shooting through your nerves overpowered everything else.

the veins under his eyes had begun to recede, the red of his irises now dulling in color. his nose wrinkles for a moment as he looks at you, his hands cupping your face as a conflict of emotions crosses his face. you can tell what he was thinking, with the look of guilt that crosses over his eyes at the sight of your smaller body trembling underneath him.

he was meant to protect you. and everything in his nature now wanted him to do the opposite. even as he fought against it, it still wasn’t enough. your screams, real or not, still echo in his head.

he was always so gentle with you. always taking his time to make sure you—the most important thing to him—felt safe and comfortable. the thought that he was possibly hurting you right now was revolting to him, even though he needed you close right now. you have to reach up to his face to snap him out of his thoughts before he spirals once again.

“it’s okay. i’m okay.” you whisper.

he presses his face into your hair, before a shuddering sob leaves his lips.

“i couldn’t protect you.”

you reach for his face pulling him up to look at you. his eyebrows are pulled together, red glazed over in angry and distressed tears.

“laurance, my love. it wasn’t real. i’m safe with you.” you tilt your head. “you’ll always protect me.”

he shakes his head, gritting his teeth. “but what about when i can’t? when i fully lose control? when i finally lose you? it would be my end. i couldn’t handle it. i can’t. i can’t.”

“you’re not going to lose me.”

“you don’t… you don’t understand…”

“yes, i do.”

your voice is firmer, and it snaps his attention back to you.

“i know you. i know what you’re capable of.” you gently brush your hands across his face, and his eyes slowly shut, taking in your words. “i know your strength, and your values. i know you’d rather throw yourself into the worst pain imaginable before letting something happen to me. even now, when you claim you’re so dangerous, i know i’m safe.”

his breath shudders as he hunches over you, seeming to feel a pang through his chest that knocked the breath out of his lungs.

“i love you.” you whisper, before the breath is knocked out of you as he gives a harsh thrust of his hips, rocking you up against the pillow.

“i love you.” he groans back. “so much. you’re my everything.”

you can’t respond to that, can’t even think of the words as he fully pushes himself in, his pelvis meeting your ass. his hands grip onto your waist like you would disappear between his fingers if he let go, head dipping down to your chest as he begins to set a rhythm. pain has faded to pure pleasure at this point, the stretch of his girth and the veins that dragged along your walls with every thrust left your mouth gasping for air and back arching up into him.

his tempo was rough and sloppy, leaving you unable to catch your breath and stirring your head into a mindless haze, your fingers grasping onto the firm expanse of his shoulders for any sense of stability as you’re knocked into oblivion.

his mouth latches onto your neck once again, but unlike his brutal thrusts his lips are soft against your skin. that was your laurance. the one that laced his hand with yours as he took you in a slow and sensual pace. the one that whispered sweet nothings in your ear and treated you so gently—focusing on pleasuring you until you couldn’t think before even beginning to focus on himself.

despite how much you loved how he treated you regularly, you couldn’t even try to deny how good this felt.

he lifts his head up, fingers brushing along your breasts and up against your collarbones, taking you all in as he sped up the pace. you can tell he’s already close to his release from the way his chin tilts up in the air and his glazed-over eyes roll back, his lips parted as he pulls in ragged breaths. suddenly he’s pulling your thighs up, large hands squeezing into the plush skin and hitching them up against his shoulders.

“so beautiful. and mine.” he murmurs, voice a deep rasp. he turns his head down, leaning back over you and staring at you through hooded eyes—practically folding you in half. “don’t you dare ever run where i can’t protect you.”

you’re close, too, and the way he looked at you now was about to send you over the edge. the mix of the new angle his dick was brutally drilling into you and his possessive and borderline wild need to protect you has you squeezing against him, your cunt sucking him in deeper and not letting go.

he moans out lowly, his hips stuttering into yours and slamming to a sudden stop. it’s so much, in more ways than one, when his hips grind in a slow circle and the heat of his cum overflows into you. you swear you feel it in your guts, with how much of it keeps coming, and how he jerkily pushes it back into you. it snaps you over the edge, vision going white and limbs turning shaky and weak, the mix of both of your releases spilling from your stuffed cunt and creating a sticky mess where your skin connected.

when you regain your vision again you find yourself looking back into gray-blue eyes, his eyebrows turned up and under eyes wet with tears. his skin had returned to its normal tone, but he still looked so pale, still so filled with a fear he couldn’t swallow.

you bring a hand up to his cheek once again, wiping the stray beads of sweat away from his face and leaning up to press a soft kiss against his lips.

“there you are, my love.”

your voice is merely a hoarse whisper, but it’s enough to knock him down. he crumbles onto you, forehead landing on the pillow next to your head, breaths shaky and fanning across your skin as his arms circle around your waist and pull you tight. slowly, he pulls out, leaving the both of you softly groaning in discomfort at the absence of each other’s warmth. his cum continues to spill out from inside you, dripping onto the sheets in a messy mix.

“…did i hurt you?” he whispers, voice trembling in the fear of it being true. his hands feel so very gentle on your waist, like he was holding fragile porcelain in his hands.

“no.”

his breath hitches in something like relief, a choked sob leaving his lips. “i love you more than anything.”

“i know. and i love you.”

his shoulders relax, and he rolls to the clean side of the bed, pulling you right into his chest and hugging you close. strong arms wrap around your shoulders and waist, leaving you little wiggle room against him. with the fragile state he was in, though, you don’t dare to say a word about it.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what happened—” he starts, his voice an exhausted and hoarse whimper as he buries his face in your hair.

“laurance. i’m safe.” is all you say, silencing the self-deprecating thoughts he wished to express.

in the quiet dead of night, you both lay there, limbs tangled and pressed together as the moonlight filtered through the window and illuminated your sweaty skin—shining from the afterglow. the fears that plagued your lover’s mind melted away for now, his breaths evening into a deep and steady cycle and mind lulling into a peaceful sleep.

©starhvney 2024. do not plagiarize, feed to any AI, or repost my works to any sites.

taglist: @wasting-away-on-the-internet @angelhyperfixates @valentique @dazedbydeath @theaquaticplant @starsbrightly @kalegrinch (if you are a minor or uncomfortable with being tagged in nsfw please let me know immediately and i will take you off of my taglist for nsfw works in the future)

#aphmau #aphblr #aphmau mcd #mcd x reader #mcd laurance #minecraft diaries laurance #laurance #aphmau laurance #laurance x reader #laurance zvhal x reader #laurance zvahl

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obeymeshallwedateaddict · 3 days

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Hii! First off, I LOVE your writing.

Secondly, what if during a movie night w/the demon brothers, (bc I am convinced they have them...) they (unknowingly) pick a movie that stars MC. What would each of their reactions be? Could you also do one with the undateables too?

Thx for reading! <3

Heyyyy I wrote your request as a group story because it's thought it's easier than writing for each brother individually. As for the other guys there will be a part two coming soon. Enjoy!

Summary: The brothers and MC are having a movie night and they find out that MC is one of the actors in it.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

GN!MC

The brothers' reactions to MC being an actor in a movie

It was a peaceful night in the Devildom. There weren't many hardships during the day and all the brothers were pretty energetic. The eldest wasn't preoccupied with too much work so he was planning on spending the night with a glass of demonus and the sound of record playing in the background while relaxing on the comfortable sofa in his study. All of a sudden though MC along with the rest of the brothers burst through the door of the study just as he was choosing the perfect record for the night. Lucifer shot them a look of tiredness and question before crossing his arms at his chest.

Mammon: Yo, Lucifer! Ya in mood for a movie night? We haven't had those in a while. Whatcha say?

Asmo: Yep <3. I just looove watching a movie while cuddling with someone. Can I pleaseeee cuddle you, Lucifer?

Satan: Guys why don't we just watch it ourselves? Why do we need Lucifer there?

Beel while nibbling on some food: Because... Num.. num num.. we're.. num.. num.. a family, Satan.

Satan rolled his eyes and leaned on the wall behind him.

Satan: Whatever.

Lucifer: Hm.. a movie night you say? We certainly haven't had those in a while... But...

Upon hearing the word "But" MC looked up at the eldest with the most pleading puppy eyes they could manage.

MC: Come ooon, Lucifeeerrr. Pleaseee?

Asmo along with MC: Please~?

Lucifer sighing: Fine, I'll come. But Asmo, my cuddles are reserved for MC. So I'd appreciate it if you keep your distance.

---

Everyone are sitting in the living room, in front of the TV. Satan is passing through the list of movies the brothers have stored in "to watch"

Satan: How about this one? It's a murder documentary.

Asmo shot Satan with an "are you serious?" look before tilting his head to the side and putting a hand over his eyes dramatically.

Asmo: Are you insane, Satan? Please get this out of my sight!! The image of.. blood alone gives me the chills...

Levi: As far as I know you are the only one in the house that enjoys watching this type of thing, Satan.

Satan: That's not true! MC watches them with me all the time.

Belphie: Do they enjoy it though? Or are they doing it out of politeness?

Lucifer: Or perhaps they pity him for watching the documentaries alone so they decide to tag along.

Satan: Lucifer, shut up. I'm not pitiful unlike a certain someone with their classical music obsession.

Lucifer's eyes darken and his gaze pierced through the back of Satan's head.

Lucifer: Satan.

MC gently pokes Lucifer's bicep, signaling him to calm down.

MC: Guys, let's not fight. It's a family movie night!

Beel: Yeah. MC is right.

Mammon pointing at the screen: How 'bout that one? It's some kind of fantasy and horror mix or somethin'. Sounds great to me!

Satan: Yeah. That's not a bad choice either. Should we watch this?

Levi: Yeah. Looks good.

Mammon: Yo Asmo! Ya ain't squeamish about this as well are ya?

Asmo: Well this one doesn't look as bad as the murder documentary. Let's give it a go.

Satan clicks the play button and sits back on the couch. Though what he doesn't expect is to feel someone snuggling against him. He looks down and his eyes widen upon seeing Asmo getting comfortable on his older brother's chest.

Satan: Asmodeus! I never allowed you to snuggle against me!

Asmo: Awwhh come ooonn, Saaataaannn!! What's a movie night without cuddles???

Despite Asmo's winning Satan pushed him away and looked back at the screen.

Asmo: Ugh, Satan! You're so bad! MC, sweetheart, be a doll and come cuddle with me.

Mammon: Don't even think about it, Asmo! MC is sitting with ME right now. It's not your turn yet!

Everybody continue talking until one specific scene gets on the screen and silences the brothers.They are left in a mix of shock and confusion which was clearly visible on their faces.

Mammon: Wait.. That can't be..

Belphie: But it does look like them..

Levi: Could it perhaps be them..?

MC furrows their brows and looks at the brothers with a questioning look.

MC: Guys, what's up? You went silent all of a sudden... Is something the matter..?

All of the brothers take a look at MC before looking back at the screen.

Lucifer: MC, is that... You?

MC looks at the TV and smiles upon seeing themselves on the screen.

MC: Oh yeah! I'm one of the actors in the movie! I completely forgot. Cool isn't it?

Mammon: Wait WHAT?

Satan: MC, you are one of the.. actors? You're starting in this movie?

MC: Yeah?

Levi: What do you mean "Yeah?" This is a serious matter!

Asmo: MC dear, you never told us that you're an actor...

MC: Is it that important that you have to know?

Belphie: Yeah!

Beel: Yes, MC

MC: ...?

Lucifer sighs and punches the bridge of his nose before speaking.

Lucifer: MC, they're just overreacting. This is a matter to be proud of. I've personally heard many good things about this movie.

Mammon: Overreactin'?! Whatcha mean?!?! We ain't overreactin'!!!

Asmo: Yeah this seems pretty important to me! Like I'm sooo into it!! MC, dear, tell me more! Tell me what make up they use, how did they style your hair because it looks fabulous!

Satan: Yes, MC how does it feel to perform on stage in front of a camera?

Levi: Is it hard? Do you get stage fright or camera fright or something? I would honestly prefer to die rather than perform on stage! How do you do it?

MC: Well..

Belphie: Do they let you take naps in between shootings? If it were me I would fall asleep on stage if they didn't let me nap..

Beel: Do they give nice food? Is it free by any chance? How did it taste like.. Mmm my stomach is already growling...

Mammon: How much did they pay ya?! It better be a nice, big amount B'cuz it would be insultin' to not pay ya enough?

MC: Well, first of all..

Lucifer sighing: MC, you don't have to answer all of their stupid questions if you don't feel like it..

MC: No it's fine...

And so MC proceeds to explain everything to the brothers, answering each question they shoot their way with a wide smile on their face. The brothers seem in awe that MC was staring in the said movie. Some of them were proud and others were simply shocked and extremely interested.

After the bunch of questions from the seven brothers the family finally manages to watch the movie. At times someone would point out MC's acting skills or a scene that looked cool.

Sometimes the brothers would brag about MC and their acting potion in said movie since it was well known. And when they had movie nights they'd sometimes watch other movies MC starred in.

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toiletclown · 2 days

Text

breathless.

spencer agnew x gn!reader

mostly fluff, a little angst.

part one of four or five, depending how much more i add.

summary: you've had feelings for your best friend, spencer, almost as long as you have known him. it isn't getting any easier, and you need to tell him soon, whether he feels the same or not. your friends are pushing you, the fans already ship you, and after courtney and shayne's success, you just couldn’t bare to keep lying anymore. to yourself, or to him.

word count: 2028 for part one.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

It’s been two years since you graduated from Smosh crew member to Smosh cast member. You weren’t the first, and are unlikely to be the last, but it’s still a bit nerve-wracking. You were moved to cast not long after Spencer made his switch to cast, but that was exactly your problem, wasn’t it? When you were both on crew, it was easier. Small smiles, hidden glances, a blush forming under your mask. Once or twice, Brennan had swiveled his camera to the crew to get their reactions and you couldn’t duck fast enough to dodge the shot.

You both shared moments without fear of judgment, knowing everyone at Smosh knew how close you were. Some more than others. But once you were both on camera more often, those moments dwindled to near nothingness. You couldn’t make eyes at him, he couldn’t flirt with you. Plenty of the cast flirted with each other on and off camera, of course, but it was different somehow. The office flirting became private hangout flirting, which then became no flirting at all.

He didn’t get jealous anymore when Amanda or Angela flirted with you, and you did your best not to get jealous when he flirted with Tommy or Shayne. It was like your friendship was entirely platonic again. And while that was all it had ever been – platonic – it hurt a little. It was like something happened overnight, and the flirting wasn’t cool anymore.

The last time something happened before your promotion to cast, Spencer, Angela, and Chanse were doing Who Meme’d It with Shayne, and someone had sent in a meme about you always looking at Spencer. As soon as it popped up, everyone was laughing, and Brennan promptly turned his camera to get your face. You were smart enough to expect it, and you managed to push out a laugh and shrug to the camera. All in good fun, it seemed. But really, it was a little bit upsetting to realize you were so obvious about your affection for Spencer. You thought that you were fairly secretive and weren’t too over the top, but apparently not so much.

“Okay, ‘Y/N pretending they weren’t just staring at Spencer’! Spencer, any thoughts?” Shayne said through giggles.

Spencer made eye contact with you, and you did your best to hold it. “Gotta be honest, Shayne, I wasn’t even aware they stared at me. Guess they’re sneakier than I thought!” Everyone was laughing again, and you joined in. Instead of making a joke about him staring at you, or a joke about you two flirting in your pod, he went with a PR answer. You could barely admit to yourself how bad it had stung. And sure, most people got roasted in Who Meme’d It, especially with the lack of funeral roasts, but it didn’t really feel good to have your private crush on Spencer blasted to not only cast and crew, but whoever ends up watching this video. And his comment was making it seem more one-sided than you liked.

After the laughter settled down, Shayne got back to hosting. “Alright, who meme’d it! Was it Erin Dougal? Courtney? Or Y/N themselves?” You made a silly face when Brennan panned to you, channeling your best mad scientist look. Your face dropped immediately after. No one saw it.

The cast members debated for a second before writing down their answers. It was Courtney across the board. “Alright, so we all think Courtney made this meme. Angela, what makes you think it was Courtney?”

“Shayne, that’s a great question, thank you so much for being here with me today. I said Court because I have seen them having little whisper sessions with Y/N and I simply don’t trust like that!” Angela laughed, a bright smile on her face. She winked at you once the camera had moved away from her face. She was actually your go-to confidant, and you were sure she knew that. She was your best friend, behind Spencer, after all.

After a dramatic pause, it was revealed that Erin Dougal was the one who made the meme. You could have called that from a mile away, but that was because Erin was constantly telling you to ask Spencer out. You shot her down every time, knowing it was safer and easier to suffer in silence with your feelings rather than to possibly fuck everything up with your best friend. Besides, suffering in silence was what you were best at.

And now, a few months later, you were the one in front of the camera for a Who Meme’d It. It was your first time actually competing, although you’ve sent your fair share of memes in. Spencer and Angela were the only two people to continuously guess you correctly, which in the grand scheme of things made the most sense as they were your closest friends at Smosh. However, you were now competing against both of them, and your competitive side didn’t have a concept of “friendship”, unfortunately.

“Okay! Welcome back to Who Meme’d It! Today we have Angela, Y/N, and Spencer competing. And Y/N is quite competitive so let’s hope they still have their best friends after this!” Shayne introduced you all, smiling at you to ease your anxiety.

“Lest we forget what happened when they were on Don’t Win Mario Party and nearly killed me,” Spencer said, turning towards you with his hands folded on the table. His eyes were smiling, but he was trying his best to keep a serious face.

You turned to face him, mirroring his expression and hands. “Lest we forget you deserved that attack because you fucked with my controller mid-lap so that you could get seventh.”

“Okay, are we doing Who Meme’d It or the Newlywed Game?” Angela joked, and you and Spencer returned to your normal positions, excited to play.

After the shoot, Spencer caught up with you in the kitchen. “You got your first Who Meme’d It win, how’s it feel?” You had indeed won, but only by two points. Spencer was right behind you and Angela frankly tanked it this episode. Usually she wasn’t too bad, but perhaps she knew how competitive you were going to be and decided to focus more on having fun instead of winning. Especially considering there was content being made that needed to be entertaining.

“Eh, I feel like my competitiveness isn’t very fun on camera. I’m hoping we don’t have to scrap the ep simply because I was too locked in.” You grabbed some fruit from the fridge and prepared to make your way to a table so you could sit and destress before your next shoot. You weren’t needed on set for over an hour so you were ready to mindlessly doomscroll while you snacked on your peaches.

Spencer chuckled at your comment, which made your heart flutter a bit. Suddenly, you had the urge to touch him. You put your hand on his shoulder, mostly unconsciously, not actively making the decision but simply just doing it. His giggling stopped instantly, and he looked at your hand cryptically, his expression unreadable. All too suddenly, it felt too serious, too personal, so you instantly pivoted. “But at least you didn’t win, right?” You smiled, patting his shoulder and turning to head to your seat.

You were hoping, for the first time ever if you were being honest, that he wouldn’t follow you. Things had been weird between you two for a few weeks now, and you almost wanted some space to deal with the pain of your best friend seeming to lose interest in your friendship. And once again, Erin had submitted a meme that made you a little upset. You knew it was unreasonable to be upset with her, as it was all in good fun and she wasn’t actually trying to hurt your feelings. You should probably try to talk to her about that, since you knew she wouldn’t take your upset personally.

This one was arguably worse than the first one though, because instead of it being at your expense, it was technically at Spencer’s. The meme wasn’t mean in any regard, but it was making fun of Spencer for consistently getting “lost in his thoughts” whenever you were on a shoot together. Of course, Erin alluded to those thoughts being romantic in nature, which earned a few oohs and aahs from the crew and cast alike. You had felt your face get warm and tried to remind yourself you were on camera and it was all in good fun.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Courtney approaching you. “Y/N, Spence! Just the two people I wanted to see. I have a question for you guys.”

Clearly, Spencer had intended on following you, since Courtney had greeted you both. You sighed as quietly as possible, before asking Court if you could sit down before you all got to talking. Your castmates followed you to a table, and you popped a piece of fruit in your mouth. “Okay, what's up?”

“Well, we wanted to do a Guitar Hero stream next week. I know you haven't been on any of the livestreams, so I figured I’d ask if you wanted to be in this one. You don't have to play but if you sit and make commentary I’m sure that'll be enough! But of course you can play if you want to.” Courtney was always so thoughtful, and you made a mental note to thank her for always being so considerate.

“Oh hell yeah, I finally get to show off my guitar skills. It’s been a minute since I’ve played, but if Y/N’s down, I’m down!” Spencer’s eyes lit up. He had been trying to figure out a way to impress you and gauge your reaction before he finally took the leap and asked you on a date.

Everyone had been encouraging him to do so for months at this point, but he still wasn’t so sure about it. Yeah, you blushed whenever he mentioned you on camera and you blushed a lot during the shoot today when Erin’s meme came up. But some part of him felt like that had less to do with reciprocating a crush and more to do with embarrassment.

You thought for a minute, munching on your peach slice. “Sure, that sounds fun. Spencer, maybe you could teach me how to play?”

Spencer broke out in a grin, “Of course I can. Although I’m surprised you’ve never played it before, it’s an iconic franchise.”

Courtney worked out a few more details with the two of you before making their way back to their pod. When she had left, Spencer turned his attention back to you. “Have you seriously never played Guitar Hero before?” He genuinely was having trouble believing that.

Truthfully, you had played before. Many times. And you were actually quite skilled at it. But it’s been quite some time since you picked up and played it, and you knew you would be rusty. Plus, you were mentally hatching a plan. Have Spence “teach” you the game, play extremely badly the whole time, then on stream you can kick his ass on Expert mode. Perfect plan.

“I have not. I might have played once or twice as a kid but I don’t really remember the controls or, like, speed, since I know some of the songs are really fast.”

“Okay, do you wanna come by my place tonight after work? I have a bunch of the Guitar Hero games but I also have Clone Hero which will probably be what we use on the stream anyway.”

Oh, right. Not-so-perfect plan. If you were to be taught, you needed to be taught before the livestream. Which means you had to hang out with Spencer outside of work. You can survive one night alone with him, right? You’ve done it so many times before. Sure, it’s been a few weeks since you guys hung out, and with your increasing feelings for him you were sure to be awkward. But it was Spencer! Your best friend in the whole world! It would be just fine. Right?

#richie txt #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew #smosh x reader #the way i'm nervous to post this lol if this flops u will not be hearing from me.

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chrzzboo · 15 hours

Note

Could you write something about Mason where he is the father of Twins (both boys) and when they win an important game or something like that he plays with his children and all the fans find him super cute?

My little family

Note: two posts in two days?! Who this? I really wanted to try and write more especially now that I have the time. Thanks anon for your request, also with this being said requests are open again. Hope you guys like it!

Reader x Mason Mount

Genre: fluff

Mason padded quietly through the kitchen, a sleepy smile on his face as he watched his wife, Y/N, prepare breakfast. The tantalizing scent of pancakes filled the air, and the sound of giggles from the next room indicated that his twin boys were already up.

He moved to the playroom, where his sons, who were just shy of their third birthday, were happily playing. Their infectious laughter and excited babbles sent a wave of warmth through his heart, and he couldn't help but join in, pretending to be a monster as they squealed with delight.

As Y/N called them from the kitchen, Mason lifted each twin with ease, planting a kiss on their rosy cheeks before carrying them to the table. Breakfasts were always a boisterous affair, filled with giggles, flying bits of pancake, and requests for more juice. Mason and Y/N exchanged amused glances, both silently cherishing these chaotic mornings.

Mason loaded a fork with a bite of pancake and teased, "Who's a big boy now, eh?"

One twin, with a syrupy grin, pointed at himself and said, "Me!" while the other attempted to mimic the word, resulting in an adorable babble.

Y/N chuckled, wiping a smear of syrup from the second twin's face. "These two are going to be little heartbreakers, just like their father."

Mason feigned indignation, pretending to be wounded, "Just like their father? What about their mother?" He gestured towards Y/N with a dramatic flourish, eliciting another round of giggles from the twins.

Y/N rolled her eyes mock-exasperation, but her chuckle betrayed her amusement. "Alright, alright," she conceded, "I suppose they got their charm from both of us. It's a team effort."

Mason laughed, the sound bright and warm, while the twins clapped their hands, enjoying the laughter and banter between their parents.

As breakfast wrapped up, Mason scooped up a twin in each arm, balancing them precariously on his hips. Y/N shook her head at the sight, "I don't know how you manage to wrangle these two. It's like they've got a secret pact to be as messy as possible."

"It's a talent, love," he replied, grinning. "I've got the magic touch." He proceeded to tickle the tummies of each twin, making them squirm with laughter, their chubby fingers grasping his shirt.

Y/N just smiled, watching the joyous sight, "Well, whatever it is, it's working. They adore you."

"It's mutual," he said, planting a kiss on each of the twins' foreheads. "They're my boys, after all."

Mason set the twins down, and they immediately started scurrying off, eager to get into mischief.

"And they've got your energy too," Y/N said, shaking her head. "It's like trying to corral two hurricanes."

Mason chuckled again, moving behind Y/N and wrapping his arms around her. "You can handle it. You've got the patience of a saint." He planted a kiss on her neck, his stubble brushing softly against her skin.

She turned in his arms, facing him, her eyes sparkling with affection. "And you've got the charm to make everything seem manageable." Her hand reached up to caress his cheek, her thumb tracing the lines of his smile.

They stood in comfortable silence for a moment, just looking at each other, before a commotion from the other room broke them out of their moment. The sound of a toy crashing to the floor, followed by the mischievous giggles of the twins, was a clear reminder that they had two little devils to deal with.

After the chaos of the morning had settled, Mason reluctantly prepared to leave for Old Trafford. He gave the twins hugs and kisses, warning them to behave for Y/N, to which they responded with messy kisses and laughter.

Mason cast a glance over his shoulder as he gathered his keys and gear, catching a tender look from Y/N. She smiled, her eyes reflecting the warmth of their family's love. "Give 'em hell, champ," she said, a hint of challenge in her voice.

He grinned back at her, appreciating her support and confidence. "You know it," he responded confidently. "I'll see you and the little lads in the stands later."

With a final kiss, he was out the door, leaving Y/N to manage the house, the twins, and a small mountain of parenting duties. She took a breath, bracing herself for the day ahead, and then turned to the twins, who were already on their way to some new mischief.

As the day wore on, the anticipation for the match grew. Y/N readied the twins, packing diapers, snacks, and their favorite toys. Just as the sun began to dip in the sky, they were en route to Old Trafford, the energy in the car escalating with every mile. And most importantly not forgetting to dress them in their football jerseys with their dads name on it.

Once they arrived, the atmosphere at the stadium was electric. Supporters milled about, the excitement palpable. As Y/N walked with the twins, she couldn't help but feel a flutter of nervousness and pride mixed together.

Finding their seats, they settled in, the twins on Y/N's lap, their eyes wide with wonder at the sea of fans, the green grass, and the massive structure of the stadium. They squirmed and pointed, taking in each sight, their innocent excitement adding to the atmosphere.

As the match started, Y/N leaned in to the twins, her voice both excited and soothing. "See that? That's daddy down there. He'll kick the ball into that big net, and we shout really loud, alright?"

The twins, completely absorbed in the spectacle, nodded along, their tiny faces filled with awe. "Daddy!" one chirped, followed by a babble that could've been an attempt at "Goal."

Y/N chuckled, her heart swelling with affection. "That's right, that's daddy. And when he does something great, we clap really loud and yell, 'Go, Daddy, go!' Can you say that?"

The twins, still a bit too young to fully grasp the words, responded with babbling attempts that were more giggles than coherent syllables. Y/N didn't mind; she knew they were caught up in the moment, their little faces reflecting the same excitement and admiration she felt for Mason.

The final whistle blew, and the stadium erupted into a frenzy. Mason's team had won, and the crowd was in a state of ecstatic celebration. Y/N, with the twins in her arms, pushed through the throngs of people, making her way to where the family section was heading onto the pitch.

As she neared the edge of the field, she could see Mason surrounded by his teammates, their faces gleaming with sweat and smiles. He spotted Y/N immediately and his grin widened, making a beeline straight for them.

The twins, seeing their father approach, squirmed in Y/N's arms, eager to be with him. Mason scooped them up, holding one in each arm, and the family stood together, the celebration and the victory surrounding them. Fans cheered, cameras flickered, and Mason's teammates thumped his back, congratulating both him and his family.

Mason looked at Y/N and the twins, a mix of happiness, pride, and gratitude in his eyes. "Did you two see that? We won!"

The twins, though too young to fully understand the match, giggled at the sound of their father's voice, and one of them patted Mason's face, which was coated with dirt and sweat.

Y/N smiled, her heart full. "We did. And you were brilliant out there." She reached out to ruffle his already messy hair.

Mason chuckled, his focus on the twins. "You two were the real MVPs today. Gave me the extra bit of energy I needed."

The twins, completely oblivious to the impact they had on their father's performance, responded with more giggles and playful pats on Mason's cheeks, their little hands seemingly trying to mimic the applause and adoration.

As the celebration continued, Mason's teammates surrounded him, their voices a mix of congratulations and laughter. Mason, still holding the twins, was pulled into the midst of it all, but he made sure to turn back to Y/N, giving her a smile and mouthing "thank you" amidst the chaos.

After being congratulated by his teammates, Mason set the twins down on the grass. They immediately started crawling, exploring the new surroundings and the many pairs of feet around them. When he straightened, he immediately moved back to Y/N, wrapping his arm around her waist and pulling her close.

He leaned in, his voice quieter now. "I couldn't have done it without you, you know. You and the boys, you're my lucky charm."

Y/N's eyes softened, touched by his words. "And we're incredibly proud of you. Both of them." She nodded towards the crawling twins, who were currently attempting to chew on a blade of grass.

Mason chuckled at the sight, glancing down at his sons, a fondness in his eyes. "They're going to inherit my love for football, aren't they?"

Y/N chuckled as well, following his gaze. "With a father like you, I think that's inevitable. Just promise me you'll teach them fair play and sportsmanship along with all the skills."

Mason turned back to Y/N, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "Of course, love. But also, a little bit of the winner's attitude; it doesn't hurt to aim for the top, right?"

She rolled her eyes in mock-annoyance. "And now I know they'll be just like you." But there was a smile on her face, revealing she wouldn't have it any other way.

Mason laughed, pulling her closer, his hand resting on her hip. "They'll be the best of both worlds, I'm telling you. They've got your coolheadedness and kindness, but also... my charm." He winked, a cocky grin on his face.

Y/N raised an eyebrow, her tone a mix of amusement and indulgence. "And a healthy dose of your ego as well, it seems."

Mason feigned offence, placing a hand over his heart. "Hey, ego is part of the package. You signed up for this, remember?"

Y/N couldn't help but laugh, shaking her head. "Oh, I'm well aware. And I wouldn't change a thing about my little family." The twins had wandered closer, tugging on their parents' trousers as if demanding attention.

Mason glanced down, a soft smile on his face as one twin grabbed his jeans, the other Y/N's skirt. "Looks like our fan club is getting restless," he said, picking up one twin and handing him to Y/N while he hoisted the other onto his hip.

The celebration on the field finally came to an end, and Mason, after showering and changing back into his street clothes, exited the locker room. As he rounded the corner, he spotted Y/N waiting for him, the twins snuggled into her arms, their eyes starting to droop with tiredness.

Seeing him, Y/N's face lit up with a smile. The twins, seeing their father again, also perked up, wriggling in their mother's arms, eager to be held by him.

Mason quickened his pace, his eyes locked on his family. "Hey, you three. Ready to head back home?"

Y/N nodded, shifting the twins' weight in her arms. "More than ready. These two are starting to fall asleep." Her eyes were affectionate, but there was a hint of exhaustion in them as well.

Mason moved to stand beside her, his large hands easily taking hold of the twins from her. He placed a gentle kiss on the top of her head, his voice low and affectionate. "Let me take them. You look knackered, love."

Y/N smiled in appreciation, leaning slightly into his touch for a moment. "Thanks. I am a bit tired. Dealing with two energizer bunnies while their dad was off winning a match takes its toll," she teased.

Mason chuckled, his eyes crinkling in amusement. "I'll make it up to you, I promise," he responded, cradling the twins one in each arm. "A nice, relaxing evening where you can put your feet up. I'll cook dinner, give these two their baths, the works."

Y/N looked up at him, a mix of affection and skepticism on her face. "You? Cook dinner? Without setting the smoke alarm off?"

Mason feigned offense, a hand over his heart. "I'll have you know, I'm a master chef in the making," he teased. "I've watched every episode of Masterchef. Just give me a recipe, and I can handle it."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. "Alright, we'll see about that. But if I come home to smoke billowing out of the kitchen, you're sleeping on the couch."

Mason just laughed, unbothered by her warning. "Scout's honor, love. I won't burn down the kitchen, I promise." He jiggled the twins in his arms, making them giggle, as if seeking their endorsement. "The boys will testify to my cooking skills, won't you, fellas?"

The twins, having no understanding of the conversation, just babbled happily and nodded their heads, seemingly agreeing with everything their father said. Y/N laughed at their innocence, shaking her head. "Of course, they'll back you up. They've got you wrapped around their little fingers."

Mason smiled, a soft expression in his eyes as he looked down at his sons. "Can you blame me? Can you really blame me?" He leaned in to kiss each twin on the forehead, his rough, stubbly chin rubbing against their soft cheeks.

He looked back up at Y/N, a determined look on his face. "I'll prove it. Tonight, I'm handling everything. You just sit back, relax, and be pampered."

Mason, true to his word, had cooked up a fairly decent meal for dinner. It wasn't gourmet fare, but the lasagna was edible, and Y/N was pleasantly surprised. The twins, once fed and bathed, were tucked into their beds, their little bodies exhausted from the day's excitement.

Now, Mason and Y/N were in their bed, the bedroom lit by a low, warm light. They both laid on their sides, facing each other, the events of the day replaying in their memories.

Mason, his hand gently running through Y/N's hair, spoke softly, the bedroom quiet enough for his words to be the only sound in the room. "Today was a good day, wasn't it?"

Y/N smiled, her eyes reflecting the contentment she felt. "The best. Seeing you on the field, watching the twins' faces light up..." She let out a soft sigh, her fingers making small patterns on his bare chest. "It's days like these that make everything worth it."

Mason nodded, his fingers tracing the curve of her jaw, his touch tender. "And knowing you and the boys are there, watching and supporting..." He shook his head slightly, the emotion evident in his voice. "Seeing you there, seeing them there... it makes it all matter. I wouldn't be half the player I am without you three by my side."

Y/N's expression softened even more, touched by his words. She placed a light kiss on his collarbone, her voice a soft murmur. "You give us too much credit. You're the one out there, doing the work, achieving things. We just cheer you on from the sidelines."

"And those cheers make all the difference," he responded, his hand moving down to rest on her hip, pulling her closer. "That knowledge, that you're there, it fuels me. Makes me want to be better, to keep winning, to give you and the boys the best life I can."

"I love you," Mason said, his voice low and full of emotion. He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead, her cheek, her jaw, until finally he found her lips. The kiss was soft, a gentle but fervent display of the love and appreciation he held for her.

Pulling back slightly, he repeated, "I love you," his eyes meeting hers, the truth of his statement evident in the sincerity of his gaze.

Y/N's heart swelled with an overwhelming amount of love. "I love you too," she murmured, her fingers tracing his cheek, her touch soft. "More than words can say."

She leaned in, her lips finding his once again, the kiss mirroring the depth of her feelings. When they pulled apart, they were both breathless but their eyes shone with a silent understanding.

Wrapping his arms around her, he pulled her close, their bodies fitting perfectly together. They lay like that, in each other's embrace, the quiet of the night surrounding them. There were no more words needed, their 'I love you's' hanging in the air, the feeling palpable in the quiet room. As they drifted off to sleep, it was clear that their love was as strong as ever, a bond built on years of trust, support, and mutual affection.

Yourusername posted on Instagram!

Liked by masonmount and others

Yourusername The twins having a blast supporting their daddy!

masonmount: My biggest supporters! Love you 🤍

benchilwell: Can’t wait to see my nephews soon!

declanrice: An Arsenal jersey would look better on them! In that way they can match Jude!

masonmount: No way in hell mate!

laurenfryer_: Little cuties! They’ve grown so much! Miss you!

yourusername: I know right!!! I miss you too girlie 🫶

rasmus.hoejlund: Back on the pitch stronger and better mase! 💪

masonmount: My brother 🙌

masonfangirlie: The twins are literally a copy of their dad!

united_mase_xx: Awww look at them 🥹 so cute 🥲

nothateful_butfateful: Can’t believe he’s still with her.

united4everuser: Girl stfu your jealousy is showing 🙄

lew.mount: Watch out mate, not too long until they start beating their dad in football!

masonmount: They already beat their uncle so not too long until they pass me bro!

debbiemount60: My grand babies 🥰 I expect to see you soon Y/N!

yourusername: Definitely! 😘

masonmount: Not asking about your own son 🤔 I see how it is mum!

yourusername: Dramatic much mase?

masonmount: Me? Never babe!

The end

#football imagine #mason mount x reader #mason mount #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount imagine #mason mount x you #mason mount x y/n #mason mount x oc #mason x reader #mason x you #mason mount ff

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sitp-recs · 14 hours

Text

Part II: table for two

Following my list featuring the sea (now with a lil banner cause I’m getting in the reccing zone again baby!!!!), I thought I’d make this a series called “fic as a sensory delight” and continue the trend with good old Drarry domesticity walking hand in hand with some food porn appreciation. Who knew that Drarry living their best life while enjoying tasty treats could be so personal? These fics feel like a comfort meal when life gets too crazy and provide a delicious sensory experience. From cottagecore to road trips, found family, case fic, established relationship and even kinky delights - this list has a bit of everything and features food as a main character either bringing Drarry together, healing past traumas, helping them connect with their heritage or simply playing as a love language. I hope these fics bring you as much comfort, joy and healing as they brought me. Happy weekend!

🥘 Breakfast by @moonflower-rose (E, 3k)

Breakfast is Harry's favorite part of the day.

🥘 Market Saturdays by @sorrybutblog (M, 3k)

In which Harry is an accidental part-time cheesemonger, Draco is an organic farmer and they fall in love. Not an AU.

🥘 Salt and Sauce by onbeinganangel (T, 3k)

Sure, of course he knows how you take your tea. But does he know your chippy order?

🥘 Cupboard Love by @shealwaysreads (G, 4k)

Harry’s life, and love, in food.

🥘 Don't Bite the Hand That Feeds You by InnerLilith (E, 11k)

In which Harry takes Draco out for Eritrean food, and Draco has a severe obsession with Harry’s hands. Smut ensues.

🥘 Harry Potter and the Showstopper of Doom by @doubleappled (M, 11k)

In which Harry’s an amateur baker, Draco wants him to go on the Great British Bake-Off, Petunia never misses an episode, Sue is a witch, Paul Hollywood is Paul Hollywood, and everyone eats a lot — like a whole lot — of baked goods.

🥘 Poppiholla by @moonflower-rose (M, 13k)

Harry had accepted that he would pine silently for Malfoy forever, but one, humid summer might change that.

🥘 Connecting Lines, Connecting Crimes by @sleepstxtic (M, 15k)

“Hello, Harry,” Draco said. He was wearing a black turtleneck under a long grey overcoat, and he was already flushed with sweat. His hair was tied into a knot; it was longer than I remembered. He was older than I remembered. There were lines around his eyes, and I wondered if they were from laughing or frowning. “Hello,” I managed. “You must be with the British Ministry?’ He nodded. I thought I might faint.

🥘 Bridges by @cavendishbutterfly (E, 16k)

Harry and Draco are on a trip to Budapest to help with Kingsley's re-election, but that's the boring bit. More interesting: Harry Potter is changing his Tinder preferences to include men. Also interesting: Harry's spending more time with Draco Malfoy than he ever has, wandering around the city. And Harry doesn't hate it. The city's pretty gorgeous too.

🥘 Sourdough by @academicdisasterfic (M, 17k)

Draco writes romance novels and doesn't leave his apartment much. Harry bakes bread and sells it to Draco. Draco is quite weird. Harry might like that.

🥘 Preserving Lemons by @saintgarbanzo, @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (E, 17k)

Harry is cooking food he couldn't care less about; Draco is making art he couldn't care more about. A story about kebabs, miniskirts and the way preservation can transform a lemon.

🥘 Passion Cake by @icmezzo (T, 19k)

It’s all about desire. (Harry orders a magically enhanced cake from a chic London bakery, and from there it all goes to hell in a cake tin. Also, will someone please tell Harry what Passion Cake is?)

🥘 Knead by laughingd0g (E, 83k)

This is not a story about Harry renovating Grimmauld Place. This is a story about coffee shops and brewpubs, about Ginny and Luna on a farm with creatures, about magical Oregon, coastal road trips, flying, friendship, and Draco Malfoy's lean arms.

🥘 Soup-pocalypse and The Great Curry Cataclysm by SquadOfCats (E, 104k)

Eleven years after the war, Draco Malfoy leads a quiet, boring, and perfectly respectable life, thanks very much. Or, at least he does, until a sudden and very unexpected veela awakening causes him to throw soup all over Harry Potter in the middle of the Ministry cafeteria.

🥘 Make This Leap by @oflights (M, 118k)

Harry owns a struggling restaurant which is running out of money, and his Head Chef has just handed in notice. He's at a bit of a loss as to what to do until Narcissa Malfoy presents an obvious solution: bring in Draco Malfoy as Chef and part owner. Harry does.

#fic as a sensory delight #part 2 #drarry & food #fic recs

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yopossum · 3 days

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SURPRISE (to me, most of all!)

It’s something new!!! 🥰

Wash Day

A “Not Anyone Who Says” universe fluffy flashback ficlet with young dad Joel and toddler Sarah. Can be read as a standalone. No warnings.

(I intentionally write exclusively Black biracial Sarah. Photo of bb Nico)

Main Masterlist - Series Masterlist

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Joel spread the faded bath towel over the counter and gave it a pat. “Alright, babygirl, salon is open. C’mere!” With a whoosh he swept the giggling little girl from her place at his feet and laid her down on her back in the spot he’d just prepared.

“Want a towel roll for under your neck, baby?”

“Yes pwease!” squeaked the wriggling Sarah. Joel grabbed a dish towel from a drawer and rolled it up, tucking it around his daughter’s neck and shoulders.

“How’s that feelin’? Y’ cozy?”

“Yes Daddy! Fank you!” She grinned up at Joel with a wide, gummy smile. “My hair’s all yucky, Daddy?”

Joel smiled softly and shook his head reassuringly. “Not yucky, darlin’, never. Y’ got beautiful hair, don’t ever let somebody tell you different. You just did a lot of good playin’ and runnin’ round all week so I’m gonna get it nice and clean, get those tangles out.” He ran a thumb over her chubby cheek and she wrinkled her nose at him.

“I don’t wike the bwush, Daddy.” Her big brown eyes, a mirror of his own, went wide and wet with concern. He pressed a comforting kiss to her forehead.

“I know y’ don’t, princess, but it’s important to keep that lovely crown ‘a yours healthy. I promise I’ll be gentle as I can, jus’ like every week. How’s that sound?” Joel turned on the faucet to let the water warm, one hand rubbing his daughter’s shoulder.

Sarah breathed out an exceptionally heavy sigh for such a small girl. “Ooohkay, Daddy. And Uncle Tommy’s tenduh….tenduhhead…?”

Joel chuckled. “That’s right, babygirl. Uncle Tommy’s tender-headed, too. And you’re way tougher than him, aren’tcha?” She nodded seriously in agreement. He checked the water temperature, perfectly warm. “Ready, Sarah?” She nodded again and tilted her head back as Joel gathered her hair in his broad palms in the sink, watching with a contented grin when the tension in her little body melted away as the warm water saturated her curls.

He squeezed a generous amount of shampoo into the well of his palm and lathered it meticulously through the length of her hair, massaging at her scalp and teasing his fingers through the childhood trademark snarls. Dirt, sand, sunscreen, sweat, sticky popsicle remnants, and an errant oak leaf swirled down the drain in a sudsy stream. He rinsed until the water ran clear, then spun the handle to turn it off.

“Conditionin’ time, curly girly. Y’ ready?”

“Yes Daddy,” she said in as stern a voice as she could manage. “Pwomise you gonna be gentle?” she added cautiously.

“I promise, babygirl.”

Joel twisted off the lid of the jar and scooped out a pile of the thick custard before working it into Sarah’s dripping hair. He separated her locks out into sections and began to run the brush carefully through each, starting at the ends and working his way up. After half an hour or so, which was punctuated with the occasional whine of protest and several tickle breaks, his fingers slid easily through the sandy slippery coils. Joel turned the warm water back on and rinsed.

When he’d finished, he pressed his lips to the stretch of Sarah’s soft round tummy peeking out from under her purple butterfly pajama top and blew an enormous raspberry, eliciting a loud squeal.

“All done! Up we go, sweetheart,” Joel said with a clap of his hands. He helped his little girl to sit upright on the counter, shielding her head from the sharp corner of the upper cabinet. He grabbed the rolled up towel and wrapped it around Sarah’s hair, squeezing out the excess water gently to avoid fuzzing it.

“Now, what style are we thinkin’ for this week, hm?” He rested his hands on his hips and kicked out a lazy leg.

Sarah pursed her pouty pink lips in thought for a second before exclaiming, “BWAIDS!”

Joel let out a loud laugh. “Braids it is, then! How many, and which hair thingies y’ want?”

“I want fwee bwaids, cuz I’m fwee years old! Anddddd… wed fwowers! Wike Susie!” she cheered.

“That’s right, ain’t it. You are three! Lil’ Miss Susie Carmichael comin’ right up. Let me get the red flower ties from y’ bedroom, alright?” He turned and started down the hall.

“Kay! Fank you Daddy. Susie’s my favowite.” Joel looked back to see his baby beaming up at him, dimples deep and darling on her peachy golden cheeks.

“Don’t I know it, y’ little rugrat. And you know who my favorite is?”

Sarah wiggled in anticipation. She barely chirped out a “who?” before her father bent down and lifted her with his strong hands, tossing her up to the ceiling as she shrieked with glee.

“It’s you, babygirl,” Joel hummed happily, smooching her face and running his palm over her dampened back. “Sarah’s my favorite.”

💕

#yopossum #yp not anyone who says #joel and sarah #wash day with the miller duo #susie carmichael forever #joel miller fanfic #dad joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller au #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fandom

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astrangetorpedo · 3 days

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IN INTERVIEW

Julien Baker, the interview 6/8/2016

At just 20 years old, Julien Baker gave us last year a first album of intense and rare emotional force, the superb Sprained Ankle reviewed here . A moving record that left a deep and lasting mark on me. It was therefore impossible to miss the young American's arrival in Paris and not to take advantage of the opportunity to try to get to know this outstanding artist a little better. A meeting was thus organized thanks to the invaluable help of Sean, her manager, in a café in the 12th arrondissement, two hours before the young lady's very first Parisian concert, on May 24. A one-on-one meeting that revealed to me an adorable and voluble young woman, incredibly touching and sincere, and above all determined to seize life with all her might! A moment of exchange and sharing that I am not ready to forget.

Hello Julien!

Julien Baker : Hello!

First of all, thank you very much for granting us this interview. I am a big fan of your music and it makes me really happy to meet you!

Oh, thank you! It's a great pleasure for me too, you know! I still can't believe that people like my music enough to want to meet me to talk about it. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart, really!

Perfect! Let’s start at the beginning of your story. I read that you’ve been making music for a while now. Could you summarize the journey that led you to where you are today?

Yeah, sure! I started listening to music in middle school. It was rock, I was really into it with painted nails, black eye makeup, all that stuff! [laughs] Then I started playing in bands, punk bands mostly. Then I joined Forrister which is the band I still play in today. We were playing shows in cities around our area. Then I went to college and a friend of mine who worked in a studio there offered me to record with him for free. Since my band couldn't be there, I did it solo, without any specific plans. I put the album out on Bandcamp for $2 or $3 a copy.

That's when Sean [Julien's manager] contacted me and suggested we release the album in a more official and professional way. I told him that I was actually in a band, Forrister, and that no one would be interested in me as a solo artist. He insisted and even though I didn't believe it at all, I agreed to give it a try. I'll always remember the day he called me to tell me that NPR [National Public Radio] was going to play my single. I hung up crying and immediately called my mom all excited to tell her the news! But then, as things seemed to start to take off for me, I started to doubt myself. I felt guilty towards the rest of the band, thinking that they would resent me for doing this project without them. So I called the drummer and asked him what they thought and he said they were just proud and super happy and not mad at me in any way. So I kept going and here I am! I never thought I would come to Europe and do all this, it's crazy, really!

During the band's time, did you already have this desire to write your own songs?

I don't think I had any real unfulfilled desire to do this.

But you were writing?

Yes, I wrote my own songs. But not because the band was holding me back or preventing me from doing it within the collective. It's just that sometimes you write songs but they don't fit the moment. So I put those lyrics aside, like that, without any specific goal. I've always written and played in different bands. There was enough space for all that, things didn't have to be done exclusively in one framework or another.

Were your parents musicians?

Not really. Well my dad bought me a guitar and showed me how to play it. So I started playing by practicing at home on my own. I also took piano lessons but for a very short time. My teacher didn't really like me because I didn't work hard enough. I just played by ear without wanting to learn to read music and he didn't like that. So I taught myself. But my parents were big music fans. They played records all the time at home. When I was younger I wanted to go to a concert, my dad would come with me to make sure I was safe! He was the only adult in the middle of all these tattooed and pierced kids! [laughs] Oddly enough it never bothered me. When he made a surprise appearance at the Bowery Ballroom for my concert in New York, I was so proud! He and my mom have always been a great support!

This is really great!

Yes I know !

In addition to being an author and composer, you are also a student. Are you still going to university?

I just finished my semester. It's currently summer vacation. But I think I'm going to take a break in the fall. I completed the theoretical part of my literature course thanks to online courses. The last thing I need to fully validate my teaching diploma is the practical part, in school with students. I tried to do it last fall but it's complicated to carry out both projects at the same time: give lessons during the week then take a plane to California or New York on the weekend to play a concert, before returning to teach on Monday morning! So I'm going to take a break to devote all my time to music.

Do you want to teach one day?

I think I would really enjoy teaching. I love it. As a teenager I was a summer camp counselor, I love children. So yes it would be really cool to teach!

You studied literature. Did that influence your way of writing?

Yes, totally! I try to feed myself as much as I can from all these different ways of perceiving life and emotions that I find in books. It enriches me intellectually speaking. I have the feeling of learning new things about myself each time I discover a new author and this is then reflected in my writing I think, consciously or unconsciously.

Are you familiar with French literature?

Voltaire! I often joke with my professor friends that I would really like to have a big Voltaire and Cervantes tattoo! I already have a Gabriel Garcia Marquez tattoo [Julien then shows me his 2-part tattoo on the inside of his 2 wrists]…

Is he your favorite writer?

One of my favorites, I can't choose just one! And so when my students would complain that Voltaire is an old man who's not cool, I could show them my Voltaire tattoo and prove to them that it's really cool! [laughs] Reading Candide really changed my life. It was incredible! I think the translation of the title is The Optimist , which is quite ironic. Cervantes wrote Don Quixote and we have this word in English, "quixotic" which means optimistic but optimistic to the extreme, to the point where even if everything is going wrong in your life and you know it, you continue to believe in it despite everything. There is a really romantic and admirable dimension to that attitude I find. Same for Candide where there is this quote that I always come back to when I feel really bad and which says: "I wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but I still loved life" . I think I cried when I first read that sentence. Anyway, I could talk about literature for hours, don't drag me down that dangerous path! [laughs]

Haha, ok. So back to the music! Listening to your album I couldn't help but think of two other artists I really like: Sharon Van Etten and TORRES…

I love TORRES!

Me too! I even did my very first interview with her!

Wow! She's amazing!

Do you agree with this comparison even if the artists in question do not come from the same scene as you?

I totally agree with this comparison! As a teenager I only listened to punk and thought that anything that wasn't punk was worthless. Then I grew up as a musician and learned to appreciate all styles. When you really love music, you love an artist as long as their music is honest and good, no matter what the style. It doesn't matter if it's hip hop or country or whatever!

I totally agree!

And so I'm a big fan of TORRES! I loved her first album, the one before Sprinter . The song Honey is the very first one I heard from her.

The same !

And oh my god, what a song! I played with her in Chicago, I was added as the opening act at the very last minute, I felt so honored! On my way to the dressing room, I ran into her and as I was saying "Oh sorry, I don't want to bother you" she said "No, come on, this is a shared space, you have as much right to be here as I do" and she kindly invited me in. As for Sharon, it's funny because the first time I met her, she asked me to have lunch with her, can you imagine having lunch in New York with Sharon Van Etten! And she told me she was also going to invite her friend Mackenzie [Mackenzie Scott aka TORRES]. But our phones died and we couldn't get a hold of her. So in Chicago TORRES couldn't make the connection, I was just the little girl at the door!

Excellent! Are there any other musical influences that you would claim?

Do you know David Banzan?

Nope…

Ok. There's a band called Pedro The Lion and David Bazan is the lead singer. He influenced me quite a bit. And do you know Death Cab For Cutie?

Yes of course !

They were the first non-punk band I listened to. At the time I only listened to loud and fast music, but when I heard Transatlanticism for the first time it was a shock, everything changed. They really meant a lot to me.

Your texts are very strong and very personal. When you wrote them, did you think about the impact they could have on those around you first and then on the general public?

Well, at first, I didn't imagine that this solo album would lead me anywhere, I was convinced that my music would only be made with my band Forrister. So when I released the album on Bandcamp, I really thought that only my friends would listen to it. So I wrote all these songs like that, just for me, without really thinking about the scope of the lyrics. And I'm ultimately happy that I didn't think about it because if I had known what was waiting for me, I think I would have most certainly changed things, I would have probably been more reserved in my words. But if it's difficult for me to show my vulnerability, I realize that it's totally worth it when young people come up to me after concerts to tell me that my music has helped them in difficult times in their lives. It's of course a little embarrassing for me to share such intimate things but if these things make others feel good, then I think it's worth it in the end.

But isn't it a little scary to expose yourself so completely naked and transparent? It's so brave, I don't know if I could do it myself!

Well, you see, it's exactly the same for me, I'm not sure I would have been able to do it if I had known everything in advance! But now that it has happened, I feel that from now on I have the right, the license to be brave. Perhaps it was the plans of destiny or God, something like that.

And isn't it too difficult for you to sing songs every day that inevitably bring you back to painful moments?

I think there are two options. Option one: I can sing these songs every night, let them take me back in time and feel sorry for myself. Option two: there is the quote from this poet that I love who says that all the horrible things in life just need to be seen from a different and courageous perspective. Things that seem bad can indeed turn out to be good in the end. So I have chosen to let the dark and sad aspects of my songs become pretexts to be positive and happy. Because yes, all these things have happened to me but if that had not been the case, I probably would never have written these lyrics and I would not be here today in Paris talking to you, Laurence! In the grand scheme of things, everything has a meaning and works for our good in the end.

That's very beautiful what you say! [laughs] To talk about lighter things, this is your first time in Europe, isn't it?

Yes !

How do you feel?

I love it! I have such a good time. Well I don't sleep much... [laughs]

Is it the time difference or the excitement?

Well now it's the excitement! But a week ago it was also the jet lag [laughs]. Imagine, we traveled for over 30 hours straight to get here! I first took a plane to Richmond and then a train to Washington DC. We then took a flight to Iceland where we took another flight to Copenhagen. Once there we took a train but due to a problem on the tracks we had to take a bus that took us to another train! When we arrived at the hotel, we were totally exhausted! [laughs] It was 11 o'clock in the evening but at that time of year the sun hadn't set because we were so far north and my body didn't understand anything at all! But hey after a good night's sleep everything was better! And now if I don't sleep it's just because I don't want to miss anything, not a single minute you know! I thought I would never be able to afford to travel and once again it seems that Destiny's plans are extraordinarily kind to me. I feel so grateful and lucky!

And that's just the beginning!

I hope so! But you know, even if everything had to stop, well in any case it would have been much, much more than I could have imagined! I am so grateful for everything that is happening to me!

Are there any particular places you want to discover?

Sean has been here before and wants to show me places he liked. Today he took me to see the Sacré-Cœur which is beautiful. On my side, there are also places I would like to visit, especially in Barcelona, because I am majoring in Spanish literature. I would like to go to the café where Picasso had his very first exhibition, long before he was famous. I would also like to see the Sagrada Familia, Gaudi's work, visit a museum, buy a Viva Cataluña t-shirt and eat paella. I am so excited to be able to do all these things!

That's great! But it's going to take you some time to do all of this!

We are staying there for the whole festival [Primavera Sound Festival]. So we should have some time. Of course we won't sleep much because in the evening I also want to attend the concerts!

You'll sleep when you get home!

Exactly! Since I am a big coffee drinker, one of my friends gave me a badge for my jacket that says "I will sleep when I am dead" ! [laughs] There are indeed so many things to experience in one life! [laughs]

And what are your plans for after the European tour?

We're actually going to be touring until the end of the year.

Will you come back to Europe?

We're going to Australia in November I think. I can't wait! We're also going to tour the States so as for Europe I don't really know... And then I hope to have some free time early next year. I'm always writing new songs that I play live. I must have 30 demos on my computer and I'd really like to record them. So it would be great if I could get into the studio early next year!

Last question: do you have one or more musical recommendations to share with us?

Lucy Dacus!

Oh I love it!

We played together in Washington DC. I had never heard her songs before Washington and I remember hearing the lyrics to Map On A Wall which say "I hope good comes from good and good comes from bad anyway" and I started crying all by myself watching her play. Her music is so beautiful, so powerful! And we have so much in common: questions of spirituality, sexuality and faith, questions about gender too and the place of girls in rock music. We are really like two halves of the same person. We have the same booker and were approached by the same label. And when I saw her again in Richmond I knew we operated exactly the same way. So our biggest fear is that we will one day become jaded and arrogant. We want to remain grateful, sincere and enthusiastic. There are so many people who do this for a long time and end up jaded. It's really great to find someone who feels exactly the same way you do, and that's the case with Lucy. We're platonic soulmates! She's a very, very dear friend.

You must tell her at all costs to come and shoot in Europe and in Paris because there are people waiting for her here!

Promise! I'll send her a message as soon as I have wifi!

Lucy Dacus! A perfect choice! Thank you very much Julien!

Thank you! It was great!

photos by jean-marc ferré 📸

interview by lolo from paris (who has great footage of that paris show on his youtube account) 📝

wayback link for the interview 🔗

#three different people have asked for the source of that jb quote so i figured i’d post the interview in full #it’s a great interview !#julien baker #lucy dacus #torres #sharon van etten #2016 #june 2016 #supersonic #interview #archival

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empressburbey · 2 days

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Throughout the books, airplane bro or as I would like to call him Airplane-nim reminds me of that one scene from Doom at you Service. Where basically the fl Tak Dongkyun (an editor or like a manager for a web novel company) attends the funeral of one of the authors grandfather's. His name is Siberia btw.

And Siberia tells how bad he feels that he never really told his grandfather what he writes, because he felt shy of his work. Eventhough his grandpa was proud that his grandson is an author. And the Dongkyung just tells the author that he would have been proud of his works. And the author gets excited and just goes, "Like 'You were never just a friend to me'?" and the editor shakes her head. Because no, this three star bl novel is not his best work. Not even close. And she names the novel she likes. But the author again mentions another whacky 1 star rated novel. And she gets frustrated, "See, this is why you can't rank high because the stories you like, nobody else likes"

That's so cucumber and airplane coded.

Because imagine a world where Cucumber turns from hater to manager/editor of Airplane. And he just has to constantly tell his ideas off. "No this will make a plot hole, no it will only confuse the reader, for fucks sake how many chapters long does this porn scene have to last?"

And they have a similar conversation at Airplanes relative's funeral.

Then Shen Yuan dies out of frustration of too much work load. Since he has to constantly edit the plot holes and what not. But Airplane writes like Turbo the snail crawls. Too many chapters in one day.

And then the conversation happens again.

Imagine Shen Yuan dies because of work. Whatever, he goes back to Luo Binghe, chokes on anger, whatever the reason. He dies. And a

Airplane goes to his funeral with his friend or something. Airplane goes there for friend reasons? Hometown reason? They've been through thick and thin? Idk, he goes there. He looks at Shen Yuans photo and just tells his friend, "Man. Maybe I should quit writing. It's so terrible that Cucumber-bro left so many hate comments in my drafts. And then he even died of out of sheer anger".

And the friend goes, "Noo. Shen Yuan was probably very proud of your works". And Qinghua just looks into the distance for a moment and thinks, "Like Proud Immortal Demon Way?"

"No, more like your previous works", the friend shakes their head.

This is so random and such a raw idea. I'm not sure how it would actually look like.

#actually sqh would never afford an editor #and if he had one shen yuan probably wouldnt have died #would at least be a little bit better written #danmei #mxtx #svsss #mxtx svsss #shen qingqiu #shen yuan #shang qinghua #svsss shen qingqiu #svsss shang qinghua #luo binghe #mobei jun #svsss headcanon #extra cookie points if editor cucumber gets sent as sqq and hes already about to qi deviate because not only did he edit the monstrosity he #he now has to live in the novel too #and then he meets sqh and finds out its airplane and he strangles him right then and there because he died of the work load be created

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bunny-1111 · 10 hours

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hii i kind of recently stumbled into your account and i absolutely fell in love!! i love your writing and your theme 🤍 i was wondering if you could make one with theo where he's academic rivals with y/n but one day he pushes y/n a bit too far and it ends in him comforting/"babying" her? u can make them end up together or not its up to you! thank you in advanced ml

Thank you babyyyyyy <3 I appreciate you sm, I hope you enjoy - please

Word Count: 3.8k

Unedited and not reread

Reblogs comment and like appropriated my darlings

...

The flicker of candlelight and the soft shuffling of enchanted books were the only sounds in the nearly deserted library. You blinked, the strain in your eyes a reminder of the four long hours you had spent hunched over your notes. Stretching your arms above your head, you allowed your gaze to wander, taking in the rows of shelves and the dim ambience. The stillness of the evening should have been calming, but it wasn’t. Not when your eyes finally landed on him.

Theodore Nott was already staring at you, his dark eyes gleaming with that infuriating smirk, a silent taunt written all over his face. He didn’t even have to say a word to get under your skin; just being there, watching you, was enough.

You sighed, refusing to break the stare as he approached, his steps deliberate, elbows resting on the edge of your cluttered table without so much as a word. You weren’t about to give him the satisfaction of speaking first. If he wanted to start this, he could be the one to open his mouth.

“Struggling again, I see,” his voice finally cut through the quiet, dripping with arrogance as he nodded towards your scattered textbooks.

“I’m succeeding, not struggling, Nott,” you snapped, your gaze flicking back to your notes. The exhaustion gnawing at you was starting to wear thin, but you wouldn’t let him see it. “Maybe if you spent less time bothering me, you’d be worried about keeping up.”

Theo chuckled, stepping around the table, his presence closing in behind you. You could feel him hovering, leaning just close enough that the heat of his gaze bore into your back. “I’ll be waiting at the top while you catch up,” he murmured.

Your jaw clenched, teeth grinding together as you buried yourself further into your notes. You knew his game well by now—pushing, teasing, always trying to be one step ahead. He lived for it, as did you but lately, you were starting to feel like it was wearing you down.

“Wrong year,” his finger dropped onto your page, tapping on one of your scribbled notes. “It was 1783, not 1781. Get that wrong, and you can kiss ten marks goodbye. There’s so much for you to learn, I'll tutor you. You clearly need the extra help. How about we start with the Declaration of mer-kind Independence” he teases slowly

“I’m fine,” you say hiss, pulse-quickening in irritation. He picks up a stray book you had abandoned over an hour ago

He chuckles, a low sound that sets your nerves on edge. “Come on, don’t be like that. I’m just offering to help.” he studies the back of the book cover in his hands, whipping your head around, snatching the book back off him.

“Don’t touch what’s not yours, Theodore, and you're wrong, it's not mer-kind, it’s merpeople. Misuse the term, and you can say goodbye to 10 marks” You smile, using his own words against him.

He only grinned wider; he loved it when you played this game. “You’ll be back here tomorrow?” he asked like it was already decided.

“Mhm,” you hummed, gathering your things. “Nowhere better.” You didn’t bother with a goodbye, letting your words linger in the air as you made your exit.

The next day, as promised, you returned. Same seat. Same workload. But this time, the weight of it all pressed harder against your temples, exhaustion gnawing at you, threatening to topple the carefully built walls of concentration you had managed to put up. Don’t let him get to you, you reminded yourself; three weeks of non-stop studying couldn't be for nothing. But even as you focused on the page in front of you, you didn’t have to look up to know Theo had arrived.

“You’re going to burn a hole through that parchment if you keep glaring at it like that,” his voice cuts through your thoughts.

Your grip tightens around your quill, ignoring him completely, even as your cheeks flush with irritation.

“Come on, don’t ignore me,” he adds, that familiar teasing lilt in his voice. “You’re gonna give me a complex.”

You finally glance up, the smirk on his face testing your patience. Theo, as usual, drops into the seat across from you, uninvited. His dark eyes glint with amusement—he’s fully aware of what he’s doing. He always knows how to push your buttons.

"Don’t you have your own table?" you mutter, eyes flicking back to your notes.

"This one’s got a better view." His gaze is fixed pointedly on you.

You roll your eyes, irritation bubbling up. "If you’re here to distract me, save it. I’m focusing."

"Oh, I’m sure you are." His tone is light and teasing, but there’s always that edge to it. "But no matter how hard you try, you’re not going to beat me on this test tomorrow."

His words hit harder than they should. You grit your teeth, trying to keep your expression neutral. The weight of the upcoming test, the sleepless nights, the constant competition with Theo—it’s all piling on, suffocating you.

"I don’t have time for your games, Theo," you snap, your voice sharper than you intended.

He raises an eyebrow, not even flinching. "Games? I thought you enjoyed our little rivalry. Keeps things interesting, doesn’t it?" He leans over, slamming your book shut without warning.

You slam your hand over the book, eyes wide with frustration. "Don’t touch my stuff! Just… go find your own table!"

Theo doesn’t respond immediately, but the smirk falters. He gathers his things with more force than necessary, walking to the next table. But he doesn’t stop there, not entirely. "Yeah, well, don’t stop studying now," he throws over his shoulder. "Wouldn’t want a repeat of last year’s essay, would we?"

That comment—it hits differently this time. You’ve barely slept, barely eaten, and the pressure is crushing you. The final thread of patience snaps inside of you.

"Why do you always do this?!" Your voice echoes in the library as you stand abruptly, the chair scraping harshly against the floor. Several students glance your way, but you don’t care. "Every time, Theo. You can’t leave me alone for five minutes!"

Theo looks taken aback, clearly not expecting the outburst. He recovers quickly though, that smug mask returning. "Because I know you can handle it. It’s called motivation."

"Motivation?" you scoff, barely believing your ears.

You let out a bitter laugh, shoving your books into your bag with a force that surprises even you. “You know what? I’m done. Done with you and your constant need to prove you’re better than me. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Fucking pathetic ”

The scrape of your chair against the floor is loud, cutting through the silence of the library as nearby students glance up. Theo’s smile dropped, his expression shifting as he watched you storm off, you didn’t wait for him to respond. When you finally reach the astronomy tower, the cold night air hits your face the moment you step outside, but it does nothing to cool the simmering anger burning inside you. Leaning against the stone wall of the courtyard, you try to steady your breath, but your chest heaves with frustration. Why does he always have to push so hard? Why can’t he just—

“Hey.”

The sound of his voice makes you tense. You don’t look up.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

“looking for you,” he says, stopping a few feet away, his tone uncharacteristically soft. “You left in a bit of a hurry.”

“Yeah. Intentionally,” you mutter, eyes fixed on the ground.

Theo moves closer, a sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t like seeing you react like that.”

You scoff, pushing off the wall to face him. “Maybe if you didn’t constantly push me to my breaking point, I wouldn’t. I can’t keep up with your games anymore. I’m not eating, I’m not sleeping—it’s messing with my head. Why do you insist on this bullshit?”

He finally speaks. “I push you because you’re the only one who can keep up and what the fuck do you mean not eating, not sleeping”

The words catch you off guard, and you blink, trying to process what he just said. For years, you thought the rivalry was all about him proving he was better, about him enjoying getting under your skin. But this—this feels different. More personal.

“I don’t understand,” you manage to say, your voice quiet.

Theo takes a step closer, his dark eyes searching yours. “I push you because I like spending time with you. You get so focused, so intense, and it drives me crazy in the best way. When you make that face when you're really focused; you have a certain smile when you get a higher grade than me, too” His voice is low, careful, and it makes your heart pound you turn to leave, to catch up with your beating heart in private, when he grabs your wrist, pulling your right back

Before either of you can say another word, footsteps echo from the stone steps behind you. The unmistakable voices of Pansy and Enzo interrupt the fragile moment.

“Honestly, if Theo’s up here sulking again, I’m hexing him,” Pansy’s voice echoes up the stairs, cutting through the silence, laced with her typical blend of annoyance and affection. “I don’t have the energy for his brooding tonight.”

Before you can even think to pull away, Theos arm relaxes on yours, still tight enough to keep you in place, gentle enough for you to not want to let go, The moment between you and Theo hangs in the air, fragile and unfinished.

“Wow,” is what automatically splits out of your best friend's witty tongue, looking between the two of you. “Well, well, well, what have we here?” Pansy smirks, raising an eyebrow at the sight of the two of you standing so close. “Did I interrupt some kind of lovers' spat turned romantic reconciliation?”

Enzo leans against the doorway, a lazy grin spreading across his face. “Looks like Theo’s finally stopped acting like a total git,” he says with a chuckle. “About time.”

Heat rushes to your face, and you try to pull away, but Theo doesn’t let you go, his arm still firmly wrapped around your waist. “It’s not—” you start, but Pansy’s smirk only deepens.

“Please, spare me,” she says, waving a hand dramatically. “I’ve been watching this slow burn for years. You can drop the act now.”

Enzo smirks, clearly enjoying Theo’s discomfort. “Who knew Theo had a soft side?”

Theo groans, dragging a hand down his face. “Can you two not?”

Pansy crosses her arms, the grin never leaving her face. “Oh, please. Don’t stop on our account. I’m dying to see how this academic rivalry plays out when you two finally, you know, release your tension.” She winks.

You can’t help the small laugh that escapes, “It’s not what it looks like,” you mumble, saving your almost-exposed smile

“You two have been going at it for so long, it was bound to end in a hug or a duel. Looks like you chose the softer option.” Smiles Enzo

You bite back a laugh, “Well, it hasn’t ended in bloodshed… yet” you joke, glancing up at him.

Pansy leans against the wall, still smirking. “So, what’s the plan now? Are you two going to keep pretending you hate each other or finally admit there’s something more going on?”

Theo shakes his head, looking amused despite himself. “You’re unbelievable, Pansy.”

Pansy just grins wider. “Sure, sure. Keep telling yourself that.”

You glare at her, but there’s no real bite behind it. It’s Pansy, after all, and if anyone was going to notice the tension between you and Theo, it was going to be her. Still, your cheeks burn as she watches you both with that insufferable smirk of hers.

Theo sighs beside you, “Merlin, Pansy, can you not?”

“Oh, don’t be so sensitive,” Pansy teases, crossing her arms. “I’m just saying, if you’ve finally decided to stop terrorising each other, the least you can do is admit it.

Enzo, clearly enjoying Theo’s misery, pats him on the back. “Don’t worry, mate. We’re rooting for you me and Draco have a bet of 5 galleons again Blaise that you two get together before end of school year.”

“Get the fuck out of here, both of you,” Theo growls, but his eyes flick to you as he says it. His tone, the one that’s usually directed at you, is now used for your defense. And you don’t miss the way his gaze softens as Pansy and Enzo finally turn to leave, You roll your eyes, though the tension in your chest loosens slightly. “This isn’t some grand confession,” you mutter, glancing up at Theo. “Right?”

Theo smirks down at you, the usual arrogance gone, replaced with something softer. “Right,” he agrees, though the hand still resting on your waist suggests otherwise.

Pansy snorts. “not in love with each other, my ass. You two have been circling each other like animals for years, and now look at you, all cosy.”

With that, you finally step back from Theo, he didn’t fight you dropping your hand, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re fine, Pansy. It’s not a big deal.”

“Uh-huh,” she says, clearly not believing a word. “Whatever you say, you’re my best friend if you think I’m going to let this slide without some serious teasing later, you’re delusional.”

you roll your eyes. “Why don’t you go find something else to meddle in, Pans?” Theo lets out before you have the chance to reply. Unbeknownst to you he is desperately wanting for you two to be alone again

Pansy grins wickedly. “Oh, I fully intend to. But don’t think for a second I’m letting this go. I’ll need a full report on how we got here.”

Enzo nudges her, clearly ready to leave you two alone. “Come on, Pans. Let them breathe.”

Pansy gives you both one last pointed look before finally turning to follow Enzo out. “I’ll be waiting for details,” she calls over her shoulder, her voice sing-song and full of mischief.

The door swings shut behind them, and the quiet returns. You glance up at Theo, unsure whether to laugh or cringe at Pansy’s dramatics.

Once they’re gone, the space feels quieter. Lighter. Theo shifts beside you, and for the first time, the tension between you two doesn’t feel like it’s pulling you apart.

“So” Theo starts hesitantly. “Do you still think I’m just trying to one-up you?”

You shrug, avoiding his eyes. “I don’t know what to think anymore,” you admit softly.

He steps closer, his usual bravado slipping away, replaced by something more vulnerable. “Then let me tell you.” His hand moves, and before you can react, his fingers gently cup your cheek. The warmth of his palm against your skin makes your breath catch. “You’re a bright witch. Brighter than anyone I know. I can see you’re tired of this game… but you’re not tired of me.”

The weight of his words settles over you, and for the first time, it feels like the competition has faded into the background, leaving something real in its place. Something different.

“Okay,” you whisper, your voice steadier than you expected.

Theo’s about to smile when you pull away, breaking the moment. “I have to go. There’s that test tomorrow, and I want a good night’s sleep.”

“Mhm,” he nods, though his eyes linger on you, like he’s not ready to let the moment end.

You manage a small smile. “Still have to try and beat you, Nott.”

But he doesn’t laugh this time. There’s something more behind his eyes, something deeper, and for the first time, you wonder if maybe you’ve been playing the wrong game all along, he’s wondering the same thing.

You have an overwhelming feeling that if you stay alone with him any longer you’re going to do something without thought, or that he might bet you to it, your mind was a mess, you turn saying nothing more, not even a goodnight, racing with your own legs to catch up to Pansy.

The test comes and goes, and you walk out of the classroom with your head hanging low. You feel miserable, you aren't confident in your work, and you are terrified it will reflect on your grade.

On top of that you’ve made it your mission to avoid Theodore like the plague. How could you two even communicate without the teasing, without the constant back-and-forth, without unnerving everyone else around you? You have no idea, and you’re not about to figure it out anytime soon, it brought on a new set of frustration, a new set of nerves, it was almost worse than before.

As you sit, wanting to sink into your seat, waiting for your result, you feel a tremble threaten to spill out of your lips. You’re haze broken by a soft nudge that sways your body, looking over to see Theodore; with a sigh, you set your eyes straight ahead; you can't afford to become distracted now. You can’t take much more uncertainty.

You take a shaky breath as the parchment lands before you, but you can’t bring yourself to look at it. You already know. The sinking feeling in your gut says it all.

You failed.

Your hands shake as you stare down at it, that big, ugly number glaring back at you. Not just a bad grade—an actual, undeniable failure. The first one you’ve ever had. And it crushes you. The pressure to keep up, to stay on top of everything, to keep pace with him.

You brace yourself, waiting for the inevitable jab, you felt things changing between you both, but you still expected a small dose of sarcasm.

But it doesn’t come.

Theo is quiet. Too quiet. You chance a glance over, expecting his usual cocky grin, but what you find is... different. His expression is unreadable, brows furrowed as he watches you. There’s no teasing. No smugness. Just... concern.

“You okay?” His voice is softer than you’ve ever heard it, careful, like he’s testing unfamiliar waters.

You blink, startled by the gentleness. “Fine,” you mutter, though it sounds weak even to your own ears.

He doesn’t believe you. He leans in a little closer, eyes narrowing as if he’s studying you, really looking at you, “dismissed” you hear your professor say above the noise of the classroom chatter.

You waste no time leaving class. You rub your eyes as you make your way down the hall, straight down to your common room.

You felt sad, disheartened, unaccomplished; you hadn't even noticed Theodore light jog to join you by your side, so unfocused that you kept walking when he called you to stop, he had to place his hands on your shoulders, his knuckles lifting your chin to force you to face him.

So there you stood, eyes meeting his and here is comes, the waterworks, unintentionally falling down your face.

You had no idea how Theo would react, Merlin, you didn’t want this to be happening but, it was, you couldn’t stop if you tried.

He wastes no time in pulling you into his chest. “Come on,” he mutters, rubbing your shoulder with his thumb, leading you both to the nearby couch in the empty common room.

When you finally have enough courage to look back up, you almost cry again when you lock eyes with the softness of Theo’s, never experiencing the affectionateness of each other.

“I failed” you choke out, muffled into his chest, he pulls you out to face him immediately “No. You didn’t,” he says as surprised as you are

“I did” you cry harder, forcing yourself back into his chest, his hands now find their way into your hair

“This is my fault, I pushed you too hard, for too long, I’m sorry, alright, I’m sorry” he rambles

"You don’t have to apologise," you whispered, the words slipping out before you could stop them. "I should’ve taken better care of myself."

Theo’s gaze snapped back to you, intense and unwavering. Both of his hands on each side of your face. "No," he said firmly, his jaw tightening. “I am sorry” he repeated

You looked down, your heart pounding in your chest. It felt surreal—this conversation, this moment. The Theo you knew, the Theo who pushed you to your limits and didn't feel sorry, you who would push him unapologetically, that Theo wouldn’t be saying these things, that you wouldn’t be feeling these things. But here he was, raw and real in front of you, admitting that he’d been wrong, and here you were, scared if you looked into his eyes for a second longer, you’d reveal how you felt before you could even come to terms with it.

"I don’t know what to say," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Theo leaned in a little closer, his lips brushing a soft kiss onto your forehead ever so lightly, the touch sent a shiver down your spine, you didn’t pull away. "You don’t have to say anything right now," he said softly, his voice warm. "Just… think about it. We can do this together. No more pushing, no more competition—just you and me, figuring it out."

Your heart stuttered at the way he said you and me like it was the most natural thing in the world. Like it had always been there, hidden beneath the layers of rivalry and tension that had built up over the years.

You took a deep breath, letting his words sink in. You weren’t sure what this meant—what it would mean for the two of you going forward—but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t drowning under the pressure. Theo was offering something you never thought you’d get from him.

You let out a confused huff, laced with exhaustion, comfort, happiness, sadness, all of it in one sigh. Theo pulls you into a deep hug again, kissing your head over and over, when you finally pull away, you almost whispered "can I-" your lips hovering so close in front of his, "yes" he practically spoke into your mouth as your lips collide, sinking into each other until a sudden gasp makes you both break away and look over

“I fucking TOLD you, Enzo!” Pansy yells out, mouth agape, pointing at the two of you. At the same time, Blaises hands Draco his galleons. Apparently, everyone knew this was coming but the two of you.

i dont know how to feel about this fic tbh. Not my favourite piece of writing, I'm honestly kinda disappointed in this one, I've been working so much I think I'm burnt out... ughhhh anyway love y'all. ANON I hope this is sort of what you had in mind... its almost 3:30 am so IM INSECURE about posting this alright IDKKKK HELP hxweomhfsou,nzw

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cinnamon-galaxies · 16 hours

Text

𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐃𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧

Pairings: Alastor x gn!reader Summary: In which Alastor tries to get rid of you by giving you a dangerous task and explores your room once you have left. What he discovers are things he wishes he could unsee... Warnings/Tags: explicit and suggestive content but no smut, 18+, MDNI, gn reader, Emberlynn-coded reader, unrequited love, reader is obsessed with Alastor and he can barely handle it, second-hand embarrassment, cringe, like, lots of it, exaggerated descriptions, comedy, mentions of violence, murder and death, very brief mention of suicide (Alastor barely keeps his sanity), fandom slander and random references (you either get it or you don’t), Alastor needs his own warning, humiliation, a whole bunch of passive aggressiveness and sarcastic remarks, trash-fic Wordcount: 6.5k A/N: This is a spin-off to my other Emberlynn-coded reader story ‘The Simp’. It can be read as a standalone, though I suggest reading the original first for a better understanding of the reader’s messed up personality and their complicated relationship with Alastor. This one escalated a bit more than I planned. It was originally meant to be much shorter, but I ended up having way too much fun writing it. Comments, Likes and Reblogs are always appreciated!

Masterlist

It was a morning like any other in the hotel. The air was still and tranquil, the residents just beginning to stir as they readied themselves for the day ahead. Alastor strode through the dimly lit halls, his mind set on a singular destination: your room.

A familiar weight settled in his stomach, a feeling that had lingered since the day he claimed your soul. Your insufferable presence had become a constant in his existence, haunting him with a mix of irritation and curiosity. He braced himself for yet another day filled with your exhausting demeanor, yet he knew he had an important task to assign to you.

As he approached your door, he could already hear the faint sounds of movement within – your usual morning routine, perhaps accompanied by some melodramatic humming. The thought made his insides twist, but he reminded himself of the necessity of the task at hand.

In front of your door, Alastor closed his eyes and took a deep breath to prepare himself for yet another one of your annoying tirades, then knocked. Once, twice – the door opened when he moved to knock a third time and he almost punched the air. Immediately, his crimson eyes darted down, and there you stood, already dressed despite the early hour, with an eager grin plastered on your face, your expression brightening like an unexpected sunrise breaking through the clouds.

“Good morning, Alastor!” your squeaky voice disrupted the early quiet of the hotel and Alastor cringed inwardly, his ears twitching at the painful frequency. He opened his mouth to retort with a dry greeting, but before he could utter a single tone you already interrupted him, the words spilling from your mouth like an accelerated record, “Is something wrong? Do you need my help? It’s still so early in the morning and you knocked on my door – I mean you never knock on my door, so there must be something wrong. Is there anything wrong? Do you need my help? Please let me help you, Alastor!”

Instant regret grew inside of him as he tried to keep up with the neverending flood of your words that were uttered so fast he barely managed to understand what you said. He just stood there, staring at you with his mouth slightly agape, overwhelmed and the wheels turning in his head as he tried hard to piece together the fragments of what he caught from your extensive monologue.

“Uhm…” He blinked, staring at your worried but also anticipatory expression, the adrenaline heating up your face like a tomato, making it appear as if it was about to burst. He imagined your head exploding and withheld a chuckle, the mere thought of all your blood and viscera spilled around your room a delightful image in his head.

“Well, my dear, I do in fact have a task for you,” he eventually said, his voice much calmer than he felt. He always relished the stillness of his sleepless nights, when you finally left him alone, allowing him to unwind from the stress you constantly stirred within him. If he weren’t already dead, he’d probably be at risk of a heart attack from your relentless annoyance. Seriously, how could someone as utterly miserable as you be so exhausting? Maybe he should consider seeing a therapist before he completely snapped. It wouldn’t be long before he lost all the control he’d worked so hard to maintain. He could feel it, deep in his bones – the silent scream of agony echoing within him.

You immediately straightened your back at his words, crossing your hands behind your back in anticipation. “Oooh, a task! Tell me! I’ll do it as soon as possible!”

Here's the missing part filled in:

“I sure hope so…” Alastor muttered beneath his breath before he tilted his head to the side and responded much louder, “Well, it is something of high importance…” he drawled out, the radio static in his voice crackling, and he could swear he saw your eyes gleam.

“What is it, Alastor-kun?” you interrupted him, and Alastor’s eye twitched, though he did not further elaborate, choosing instead to let the moment linger with a teasing smile.

“Well, you see… I need you to fetch something from Cannibal Town. There’s a butcher on Carcass Lane who sells the most delectable venison in the entire Pride Ring. I need you to grab some for lunch. Here’s the address and the list of items I need.” He handed you a crumpled piece of paper, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes, and you snatched it from his hands, pressing the note almost against your face while you read it.

Alastor raised his eyebrows as he watched you literally absorb the information, then you looked up and nodded exaggeratedly.

“I'm on my way!” you declared and scurried past him, the wind of your fast movement causing Alastor's hair to flutter. He turned around with a narrowed eye and crooked smile, a look of irritation on his face, but you had already disappeared behind the corner before his eyes could follow. He stared in the direction you just disappeared for a few more seconds before his smile widened into a predatory grin, flashing his sharp and pointy canines with a sudden, exhilarating thrill that sent a shiver of anticipation down his spine. This was an easy success. You really were so desperate to serve him that you were stupid enough to run to Cannibal Town alone. You, a small little creature, pathetic and completely helpless, were nothing more than prey for the people in this part of the city. Maybe, if he was lucky enough, you'd get eaten before you even reached the butcher shop, and thus a problem would've been solved without much effort on his side. Genius.

Still standing in the doorway, he turned back around. Alastor had never dared to knock on your door before – because of obvious reasons which have just been confirmed to be true. But now that you were gone and hopefully not returning, he got curious. Without further thought he entered your room and closed the door behind him, turning on his heels to take a look around. His eyes widened with every detail that caught his eyes. Bright pink and violet walls clashed with white polished furniture that could've been sourced from a doctor's office. The cabinets and shelves appeared almost sterile compared to the atrocious clutter in and around. Dozens – no, hundreds – of plushies and figurines were crammed into the tiniest of spaces. It was a chaotic explosion of color and fluff, a seemingly random assortment that defied all attempts at organization. The shelf was filled with books and boxes that were somehow puzzled into the space like some kind of a real life Tetris game. The walls – dear Satan, the walls – were suffocatingly plastered with posters in colorful palettes that showed a wide range of grotesquely exaggerated, wide-eyed monstrosities. The eyes of the characters – if they could even be called that – were so enormous that they seemed ready to fall out of their skulls, while their breasts rivaled their heads in size. It was as if the artist had taken every ridiculously hyper-sexualized fantasy and spilled them out on paper to create those unnatural horrors of eyesore that depicted an unhealthy and disrespectful portrayal of the female body. How were their waists so small? Did they even have organs in there? Alastor raised his eyebrow as he eyed the pictures. Some of those creatures bore animalistic features with cat ears, bunny tails and other appendages like they were common in hell, yet seeing the mere addition of those features on such grotesque figures was more than unsettling to him. The others were probably supposed to be human but their proportions were so out of control they looked like misbuilt mannequins from the fashion store of mistrust.

Alastor's eyes drifted further across the wall until they landed on the image of a pale man with sharp pointy ears and curly white hair who was mid-bite on a woman's neck, the blood pouring from the wound and running over the woman's chest in a subtle yet intendedly suggestive way. The text read ‘Baldur's Gate’.

What in Hell's name was a ‘Baldur's Gate’?!

Before his mind could even attempt to comprehend this madness, his gaze landed on another poster with the same writing and same world – but this one featured a woman swooning in the arms of what could be an octopus-man hybrid.

Alastor blinked, horrified. Yes, that was indeed an octopus with glowing eyes and squirming, slimy tentacles wrapping themselves around the poor woman as though she were just another victim of this abhorrent nightmare. Wait – were those tentacles caressing her?!

He gagged, the taste of bile appearing on his tongue. “This is disgusting,” he hissed, a shiver running down his spine. He could barely process what he was seeing. ‘Baldur's Gate’? Hell, maybe you belonged there. Maybe he'd be doing you a favor by sending you straight into that absurd world where vampires, octopus-men, and God knows what else ran free, far away from him, where you could fulfill your worst fantasies of–. He neglected the thought before he could finish it, his stomach churning and the threat of another gag rising in his throat.

But then, his eyes caught something worse. Yes, worse. Somehow the room found a way to outdo itself. Layered posters plastered the other wall – yes, layered – leaving almost no surface of the actual wall visible underneath. And the images – Satan help him – the images were so obscene, he couldn't withhold himself from widening his eyes in shock. Muscular men – half naked and grotesquely exaggerated – posed with claws, fangs, and the most ridiculous expressions of primal desire imaginable. Texts like “Alpha” and “Bite me, baby” screamed from these posters. But the final blow came from a particular poster showing a dripping wet, absurdly muscular mafioso leaning into a shower, a caption in giant, sultry text reading, “Are you lost, babygirl?”

Alastor's jaw practically unhinged as his eyes widened in horror.

What. The. Fuck.

He averted his gaze, barely suppressing another gag, and found himself standing in front of a shelf, hoping for some brief moment of sanity. But no – his hopes were shattered. The shelf was packed with small figurines or more cat-girls and octopus men, between them some green-haired man holding two Katana in his hands and one between his teeth. How the hell could he even fight like this? This didn't make any sense at all. And – was that the sculpture of spaghetti with a face?! He stared at it with one eye widened and the other narrowed, his lids twitching under the pressure and his smile was shaped into a confused grimace. Why the Hell did you have spaghetti on your shelf?! But of course that wasn't all. Between those figurines were even smaller creatures that looked like they'd crawled from the very bowels of an overactive, perverted imagination. With a roll of his eyes and a deepening sense of disgust, he glanced at the books. Big mistake.

How – just how could every single corner of your room be even worse than the last?! He was barely able to keep himself from laughing as he read the titles of the books that were stuffed into the tightest of spaces. Each one was worse than the one before: “Bound by Blood and Lust”, “Slave to the Beast”, “Taken by the Overlord”, “Marked by the Alpha”, “The Alpha's Virgin Omega”... and even more dreadful titles. “My Immortal” was the most normal of them all. But even a harmless title could hide one of the worst stories in all of history. If Alastor knew one thing, then it was that one should never judge a book by its cover – or in this case: title.

He took a deep breath, stepping back from the shelf, his gaze still locked on the chaos around him. He found himself standing before your desk, turning with a low hum, eyes scanning the mess of paper stacks and notebooks with a bizarre mix of morbid curiosity and utter disgust. Your room was like a car crash – something no one wanted to witness, yet impossible to look away from. In a nutshell: It was absolutely atrocious.

With narrowed eyes he took one of the paper stacks in his hands and shuffled through the pages. Most of them were notes and doodles, some better than others, but the majority looked like the deformed mannequin creatures from your posters – only more disturbing. Their eyes, grotesquely oversized and much rounder and bigger than the ones from the posters, were filled with far too many reflections, giving the eerie illusion of tears, yet each character wore an unsettling grin, twisted and unnerving, disturbingly similar to his own at its worst. He continued his expedition through your mess, not surprised to find some drawings of himself but shocked by the sheer quality and painstaking detail you had put into them. Then, his breath caught in his lungs. His eyes widened, pupils constricting in disbelief as he stumbled upon yet another drawing of him – this time, barely dressed, with a lewd speech bubble in the corner. ‘Oh, don’t be shy, little one. I promise, this is one signal that’s sure to reach every part of you…’

He instantly flung the papers aside, recoiling with a loud, distorted radio screech. You truly were a creature of Hell. Did your parents even love you? They must’ve been really bad people if they managed to spawn such a fucked up creature like you… Maybe it was a good idea to just leave the room without exploring your personal belongings any further. Not even getting mauled to death by bloodthirsty dogs was as traumatizing as the deep, dark abyss of your mind. But before he could turn away, something caught his eye. A pink notebook that was adorned with glitter stickers and handwritten quotes lay right in the middle of your desk, a few pens strewn around it as if you were just using it. He knew he shouldn’t. Every single look was worse than the one before. He knew this flashy notebook would most probably hide even more stuff he would regret to ever have seen. However, there was a quiet little voice that tried to lure him into doing something he knew he would regret.

With caution he approached the desk again and reached out his hand, his finger tips grazing the surprisingly soft material of the cover. He held his breath as he took it into his hands and opened it. The first page was adorned with hearts and tiny flower doodles, the image of a cathedral radio in the corner. In the middle of the page stood written in flourished cursive: “Static Lust – A Dark Romance Fanfiction”. Underneath, your name.

He frowned. What was a fanfiction…? With a bad feeling in his guts he turned the page and began to read your surprisingly neat handwriting. His eyes flew over the words, taking in every sentence and he cringed inwardly at the badly written plot. The story was ridiculously self-indulgent, starring you as a tragic figure that was kidnapped and brought to Hell by none other than… him.

Alastor blinked when he read his name, wrinkling his nose and inhaling a deep breath. Of course. He should’ve known. Fan-fiction. Knowing how hard you were in love with him should’ve prepared him for what he was about to discover.

As uncomfortable as he felt, he continued this little venture into the literal intonation of your deepest thoughts. Somehow, it amused him. It was as if he was reading your diary, just more messed up. And most definitely pushing his boundaries.

You portrayed him with a personality that couldn’t be farther off from reality: a lovesick obsessive who wanted nothing but to corrupt you, possess your soul and your whole being. He couldn’t believe what he was reading. The sheer absurdity of it all – the dramatized seduction, the over-the-top description of his passion for you were unbearable to read. Yet, he couldn't stop himself from continuing the story. His eyes continuously trailed over every sentence, soaking in the words as if his life depended on it while his heart sank deeper into his guts. His expression was completely motionless and his already pale face drained of even the last bits of color. The worst was: it didn’t stop here. As the story progressed, so did your so-called ‘romance’.

His fingers trailed along my jaw, claws grazing my delicate skin as he kept his gaze locked with mine, crimson eyes boring themselves into my very core as if he was reading my soul. I felt completely naked under his gaze, caught between desire and a flicker of fear at his imposing form. “Be mine,” he growled with a deep sultry voice, the radio static gone and his hot breath grazing against my cheeks. Sharp teeth glinted from behind his smile, a silent threat yet so intriguing. The danger, his power, his possession were palpable. Everything left me completely breathless and a shiver ran down my spine, causing the butterflies in my stomach to flutter wildly around. It was a tingling feeling, one that jolted electricity through my veins and into the depth of my core.

He swallowed hard at the description, nausea taking over his stomach, replacing the appetite he just had for a tasty bite of rotting venison. He would never say something like that to you. He would never do something like that to you. And most importantly, he could never love you. He wasn’t even able to love. But even if he were, he'd be more likely to fall for Lucifer than he would ever waste a single thought on you.

‘Be mine.’

He let out a huff. You were already his. Certainly not in the way you wanted it to be, but he owned your soul. Which meant he could do to you however he pleased. But nothing similar to this bullshit from your writing, obviously.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed as he continued to read and the story development was truly as bad as his characterization and anything else. The more he continued, the more his eyes widened in horror. It didn’t take long for the writing to turn explicit – vulgar and smutty. Each sentence was dripping with suggestive language, painting a picture of you and him in intimate situations.

I couldn't resist him any longer, the way he dominated the room, the power in his every movement. My heart raced as he leaned in closer, his voice a seductive purr that caused my hairs to stand up. “You were a naughty little thing,” Alastor whispered, his lips brushing my ear and his voice dropped to a baritone that vibrated in his throat, “and you deserve to be punished.” I shuddered, feeling my entire body tremble in anticipation. “Alastor…” “Uh, uh, uh,” he brushed me off, his nose grazing the skin on my neck while his hot breath sent shivers down my spine and right into my core. “Say it. Say, ‘Punish me, Sir,” he commanded, and I–

Alastor slammed the book shut for a moment, closing his eyes as if to cleanse himself from what he had just read. He let out a sharp exhale, then opened the notebook again with a resigned sigh, morbidly fascinated by the sheer audacity of your words. His smile became brittle, twitching as he forced himself to read on.

Alastor pressed me firmly against the wall, his finger tracing a line down my neck, the touch gentle but brimming with control. I felt his sharp claws graze my skin, leaving faint red marks that would serve as a silent testament to his claim over me. I remained still, terrified that the wrong move could turn his claws from teasing to lethal. “So naughty…” he growled in my ear, his voice sending a shiver down my spine before he stepped back, creating a cold distance between us. The sudden loss of his warmth sent a chill through me, goosebumps prickling across my skin as I resisted the urge to reach for him, knowing he wouldn't tolerate such disobedience. Alastor’s intense gaze swept over my body, lingering on every inch, and I could feel the heat pooling between my legs, the wetness trailing down my thighs. “Strip,” he ordered, his voice leaving no room for hesitation. I obeyed without a second thought.

This was absurd. This was disgusting. This was absolutely disturbing. This was how you viewed him? A domineering, smoldering lover? The mere idea was enough to make his skin crawl.

He gagged once more, the mere thought of touching you making him recoil in pure revulsion. This went beyond simple disgust. It was something far deeper. What was any of this supposed to be? Did you actually believe he could ever reciprocate your twisted feelings? Were you truly so desperate that you wrote an entire book about him doing such indecent things to you? He couldn’t comprehend it, and it only worsened his already low opinion of you. He knew he shouldn’t have read it, but did you honestly think he wouldn’t find out eventually?

Part of him just wanted to die again. To disappear and never return, to tear out his eyes and brain and offer them to his equals in Cannibal Town. Was there anyone in Pentagram City who still performed lobotomies? He definitely needed one after this monstrosity of an insult to all literature ever created.

He flipped through pages in haste, no longer bothering to read the entire story, just skimming over a few lines here and there. With every word, it became more unbearable. The grotesque images your writing forced into his mind were intolerable, destined to haunt him for the far future where they would resurface in his rare moments of sleep and flash before his eyes every time he looked at you. It was obscene, nonsensical, and revolting. Violating not only his sense of decency but also his personal boundaries.

What started off as a toxic fast-paced back and forth between the two characters turned out to be nothing more than a pure over-sexualized scandal. You and Alastor would do it everywhere. In the bed, in the shower, in the hotel's parlor, on the counter of Husk's bar – even on the balcony while you glared up at one of Vox’s drones, knowing damn well the television freak would watch. He even found a chapter in which he took you into his radio station and broadcasted your moans all over Hell, so everyone knew that you belonged to him.

“Ah, Alastor-kun!” I moaned in both pain and pleasure.

“Punish me, Mister Radio Demon, Sir!”

“Ah, harder, deer-daddy!”

“YAMETE KUDASAI!!!”

He slammed the book shut again and dared not to open it again. What. The. Actual. Fuck. Was wrong with you?!

His face was white as chalk, his eyes twitched and for the first time in decades, his smile had disappeared and instead, his face was adorned by a completely and utterly traumatized grimace. This was… this was an affront to his dignity, to his entire being.

His thoughts raced like a whirlwind as he imagined every possible way to make you regret this. To punish you – not in the way you do desperately wanted – but actually punish you in the most gruesome and painful ways he could imagine. Over the decades, Alastor got creative with his murders. Maybe he would even discover new ways to torture a soul before tearing it apart, shredding it into pieces to ensure not only your death but to erase your existence from history entirely. Perhaps he’d even find a way to prevent you from ever being born at all.

Fuck.

But until then, he would keep his rage silently hidden inside of him, deep behind the walls he had constructed to maintain his control.

Alastor let out a laugh, though it was more out of frustration than amusement, the sound hollow and laced with irritation. Of all the souls he could have ended up owning, it had to be yours – lovesick simp with a disturbing penchant for writing self-indulgent filth. Oh yes, you were destined to be his punishment. The punishment Alastor most probably deserved in his afterlife. But before he could continue his train of thoughts, he got interrupted.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!” your frantic voice shattered the silence of your room as you burst through the door, nearly knocking it off its hinges. Alastor flinched, startled by the sudden commotion. His head turned a full 180 degrees to face you, accompanied by the snapping of bones and sharp crackle of radio static, and you froze mid-step, locking eyes with him.

You blinked once, then twice. “Oh, Alastor! I'm so sorry!” you cried, your eyes glistening with tears. “I’m so, so sorry! I screwed up!”

He stood there, holding your notebook, his expression frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. His heart raced in his chest as you hurried toward him, trembling slightly.

“I went to the butcher, but I forgot my purse at the hotel! I had to come back for it!” you rambled, breathless, and Alastor’s brows furrowed in confusion. “I’m so sorry I won’t have your supplies in time! Please forgive me, Alastor! Or punish me! I’d love to be punished! I–I mean – I deserve to be punished! I can also punish myself if you prefer! Just forgive me for being so stupid!” you pleaded, completely oblivious to the fact that Alastor stood in front of you with your most mortifying secret in his hands.

Tears streamed down your face, but Alastor just stared, mouth slightly agape, yellow teeth peeking through as he stood there, overwhelmed. He held your notebook in his hands, the disturbing contents trapped between its thick covers, while you rambled on about a forgotten purse and your desire for punishment. All the while, you remained utterly unaware of the true embarrassment in front of you.

“Uh…” Alastor exhaled at a loss of words.

You gazed up at him with teary, wide eyes, then your eyes slowly drifted down to his hands. Realization hit you like a train. Your eyes widened and grew so big in size that they rivaled with the creatures on your posters, the color from your face draining, turning your skin from pale to snow-white in an instant.

“No...” you breathed, your voice weak and barely above a whisper. You shook your head slowly, stepping back, repeating the word in disbelief, as if doing so could undo the reality before you.

Alastor's initial shock dissolved into a wicked grin. His pupils constricted, and the glow in his crimson eyes intensified with a dangerous gleam. Watching your horror unfold, filled him with a surge of dark satisfaction and the thought of simply torturing you felt far too mild now. No, this reaction was much more satisfying, much more delicious. His eyes gleamed with cruel amusement as an idea took root. This wasn't just good. It was perfect. The situation was playing right into his hands.

“Well, my dear, it appears that you've stumbled into quite the predicament, huh?” his static-filled voice broke the uncomfortable silence and he turned around fully, tilting his head in a derogatory manner. “Care to explain?” He asked, his fingers tapping against the book one after another, the sound of his claws clapping against its surface a haunting melody. His voice was much too light and way too cheerful for what he felt on the inside, but it was the perfect way to confront you with the danger you just put yourself into. It made him hard to read. It put him in charge.

“Well… uh… uhm…” you stumbled, momentarily speechless. Alastor could see the wheels turning in your head and he noticed your pale cheeks turn a red color that was almost as vibrant as his coat.

He took a step closer and tilted his head further, almost holding it at a 90 degrees angle. “Well…?”

“I– it's not what–” you started but Alastor interrupted you.

“Save this nonsense. This is exactly what it looks like, dear. Now, tell me, what is this thing you're so ashamed of, huh?”

You began to fumble with your shirts, fingers fidgeting with the fabric as your breaths grew more ragged. “I–I–It's… a diary!” you shouted that last word. “A diary! Yes, yes! Nothing more! Just a few thoughts about my life at the hotel!” you tried to save yourself from this situation, crafting a lie that was so obvious that even the most stupid person would've seen right through it. And, after all, it's not that Alastor didn't just read page after page with an abhorred expression. But you didn't need to know. Not yet. He'd let you squirm a little before dropping the bombshell. So, he just raised an eyebrow and turned the notebook in his hands, eyeing it from all sides with faux curiosity. “Is that so?” he drawled and you seemed to shrink under his looming presence and intense gaze.

You nodded hastily, your whole body vibrating with the simple movement. “Yes! Yes…”

“Well…” Alastor paused for a moment, glancing down at the supposed ‘diary’ and then darting his eyes at you from under his lashes, a quick flicker of mischief dancing across his features but no less intense.

You swallowed. And Alastor could see your throat jolt up and down.

“Well,” he repeated, “if it's just about the hotel, then I guess you wouldn't mind if I take a look.” He moved his hand to open the notebook but your panicked voice interrupted him.

“No!”

He stopped his movement, thumb and index just touching the upper rim of the front over. He raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh? And why's that?”

“Because… because… it's not good. It's just… bullet points and quick notes. Nothing special, really! Just ugly smearing and shitty drawings!” You explained in a rush, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other while you bit the corners of your cheeks and your hands kept fumbling with your shirt.

Wait. Drawings? Alastor blinked. There were illustrations in there too?! He swallowed. Hard. Though his expression did not reveal any of the discomfort that crept through his veins like a venomous snake on the hunt for something to eat.

“Oh come on, they can't be so bad!” Alastor assured while he made sure his fingers lingered at the very same spot, a silent threat that he could – and would – open the book any second.

Tears welled up in your eyes again as you stared up at him with pursed lips, a pleading expression on your incredibly blushed face as you silently, yet loud enough for everyone to hear, begged he would put it aside and dismiss your personal belongings.

You folded your hands in front of you as if praying to some God, your voice barely above a whisper, “I mean it, Alastor. Please don't open the book. Please…"

Oh, this was delicious. This was so much better than any torturing method he had imagined just mere minutes ago. Your pleading expression, the fear in your eyes, the way you so desperately tried to keep him from opening the book while you were completely unaware of the fact that he had already read its contents. That he knew about your deepest, dirtiest desires, your pathetic longing for him that must’ve affected you so strongly you spend hours and hours of your free time to create something this atrocious… He could see your body tremble. He noticed every inch of your skin on fire, every single hair standing on edge. He smelled the panic that surged through your veins and heard the blood rushing through your arteries, powered by the frantic beating of your pounding heart in your chest.

The silence between you stretched on and Alastor enjoyed every second of it, reveled in this moment of utter uncertainty. He heard your ragged breaths, how you tried to force yourself to keep your breathing as steady as possible, fighting against the tears that glistened in your eyes. Alastor realized you resembled the drawings he’d discovered in that chaotic stack of paper, and his grin grew even more sinister, exposing his sharp fangs in all their menacing glory.

It was at this moment he knew time had come to drop the bombshell. To reveal the truth to you and humiliate you with the product of your own creativity.

“‘Deer-daddy’, huh?” he casually quoted one of the lines from your story and he saw you twitch, his sadistic satisfaction growing even stronger.

“What?” you whimpered in shock but before you could say more, Alastor opened the notebook and flipped to the very page where he read it, turning the book around for you to face your own writing and pointing with his clawed finger at the line.

“Here it is, ‘deer-daddy’,” he repeats again, tapping against the page twice. Then he inhaled deeply, raised one eyebrow and looked at you like a disappointed parent. “First off, I am not your father,” he clarified, his tone still casual, a subtle hint at the hidden danger underneath his facade. “And secondly… Wouldn’t that make the whole plot of your story a little… incestuous…?”

The trembling of your body intensified and your breaths got quicker, impossible to control as you found yourself at the brink of hyperventilation.

“Oh, come now, dear. Why so nervous…?” he drawled and your lips began to tremble.

“You…” you started but your breath caught in your throat, your voice trembling as much as your body. “You… read… it…?”

Alastor fell silent for a moment, his burning red eyes taking in your pitiful state. Then his smile widened, casual yet unnervingly so, before he cheerfully exclaimed, “Of course I did! How could I resist this flashy little booklet you so obviously displayed in the middle of your desk? I simply had to read it!” He closed the book and thrust the cover into your face, an exaggerated gesture meant to highlight its eye-catching design. The stickers you had playfully plastered on now seemed to mock you for forgetting to hide it away.

Holding the book closer to himself again, he shifted his gaze between it and you. “But let’s be honest, dear. Your storytelling could use some work.” He opened the book again and flipped through the pages. “You started off strong with your self-insert and their dramatic backstory – it caught my interest at first. But come on. Kidnapped into Hell? By the Radio Demon, due to a ridiculous Halloween bet gone wrong?” He raised an eyebrow at the sheer absurdity of the plot before he continued, “First off, summoning me to Earth requires much more than a little pentagram, some candles, and a radio. I deserve better sacrifices than that. And do you honestly think I’d find a pathetic little human being, especially one like you, interesting? What could you possibly offer in return for my favor besides your fragile soul? I’m not the kind to wait years or decades for a death so a bargain can be fulfilled. It’s simply… inconvenient.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, as he critiqued your writing like an editor at a publishing house.

“And kidnapping someone just because of their ‘tempting nature’ and without further motive? That’s quite foolish. What if the Sins found out? Or other powerful beings in charge?” He stepped closer, glaring down at you with a still raised eyebrow, his casual demeanor betraying a hint of enjoyment in your discomfort. “Don’t you think they’d come after you if they learned that a human managed to survive a descent to Hell? Honestly, you’re missing quite a thrilling plot here.”

Alastor’s eyes flicked over the pages, taking in fleeting words without truly reading. He didn’t need to reread to recall the errors and striking details; they were burned into his mind – probably for the rest of eternity. As he took a deep breath, he stumbled upon a lewd drawing of you and him tangled together on a desk – something he must’ve overlooked before and wished he could forget now. So, there were illustrations in this book. You didn't lie.

Blinking, he turned the page, pushing aside this humiliation for a moment to continue his critique, “While your writing style is surprisingly enticing, the rest of the story lacks character development, thrill, and depth. It could have been executed much better – if we ignore the fact that it centers around me being your beau and engaging in... inappropriate activities while indulging in exaggerated displays of carnal desires. You’re a filthy little thing, aren’t you?” He chirped, glancing at you with anticipation, waiting for you to form a response. But you were speechless. Not a single word managed to leave your lips as you just stared at him, dumbfounded, your mouth agape and eyes widened in horror and confusion.

Alastor sighed. “Oh come now, dear. If you can be so bold to bring such an imagination to paper you can surely just answer my question.”

“I–,” you stuttered, pausing to gather your strength to do as he commanded. But instead, the words tumbled out as an apology. “I–I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude–”

“Uh, uh, uh, dear!” Alastor interrupted, waving his index finger in front of your face. Your eyes squinted, tracking its movement. “We both know you’re not ashamed of intruding on anything related to me. Considering you’ve been following me around with those doting eyes of yours ever since the day you begged me to take your soul. You’re a bold little creature, utterly devoid of dignity, feeling the need to humiliate me in the process.”

He closed the book and handed it back to you. Your trembling hand snatched it from his grip, and you hugged it protectively against your chest, closing your eyes and taking deep breaths to steady yourself. Meanwhile, Alastor continued his scolding, stepping closer until there was barely a foot of distance between you. He tilted his head, looming over you like a predator, eyes narrowed and teeth flashing.

His voice dropped, growing darker with each word, the static crackling around him making the air feel charged as he hissed, “I suggest you cease this violation of my privacy before I make sure you regret every little thought you’ve ever dared to indulge in regarding such frivolities.”

For a fleeting moment, his eyes turned an abyssal black before returning to their fiery hue. It was a subtle threat, yet clear as day. He lingered, staring down at you, savoring your pathetic state, before shadows engulfed him, pulling him into darkness until he vanished completely, leaving you alone in your room with just your thoughts and the memory of the consequences of your inappropriate behavior.

Yes, he definitely needed that therapist.

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kimcheekies · 6 hours

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perv skz headcanons bc like i lowkey love perv skz

warnings: smut minors dni pls.. protect ur eyes from me whoring out lol cuz we get 𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 (sex innuendoes and perversion, sex videos, sex dreams, groping, cnc touching, stalking, unconsensual sex etc. yay)

okay now i've always been like into the perv stray kids trope like stays i've seen on tumblr writes it so well so i probably won't match up to that but at least this is like.. my idea of what they might be like if they were yk? anyways let's go.

방찬 ~ bang chan ~ sex audios or sex innuendos

okay so like i imagine chan to be like kind of deliberate about his advances like he outright does perv on you but does it in a way where you just chalk it up to flirting

his flirts are usually very forward, saying things like "what if i dated you?" or "if i was your boyfriend, i wouldn't let you go from my arms," "you know i'd be so good to you, baby girl.."

he's always been close to you, acting almost like a mentor to you through your trainee days and helping you out with music production, or managing your group and you've always been thankful for his kindess- knowing that just makes him feel a little guilty and shameful when he fucks his fleshlight in his bedroom, pretending its you.

knowing that you think of him in such a high regard and hold him so close to you in terms of friendship makes him feel even more guiltier when he listens to the audio recordings he got of you moaning and whimpering while you slept, the squelching of his hands stroking himself acting as harmony to your sweet sounds.

but those are his most prized possessions.. you won't ever get to hear them until you're his.

이민호 ~ lee minho ~ looking up your skirt or eyeing clothing

minho is more subtle about his flirts when it comes to you because with the boys like with jisung or hyunjin for example, he'll be outright jaw-dropping flirty but with you? it's like he's the dorky kid at school again.

but when you ask him to help you with getting the choreography of an upcoming special stage you've got coming up, his hands on your waist when you ask him to help you with a move, your pretty lips parted to take a breath, your ass brushing up against his front- he literally ditches you and runs to the bathroom to jerk himself off.

but when he comes back and sees you bending down to pick up your things since clearly without him the rehearsal was over, he’s quick to pin you up against the wall and press his raging boner into you with a groan

finally he can run his hands along your sides, one groping the curve of your ass and the one pulling up the flaps of your skirt to reveal white lace panties- the same ones he jerked himself off with when he was at your dorm?

“please.. please just let me fuck you- i need help, you’re on my mind 24/7 and i need to get you out.” he whispers, begging against your ear in a needy tone as his fingers rub into the wet spot of your folds leaking through the flimsy fabric.

서창빈 - seo changbin ~ helping you work out

changbin’s your best friend so of course after constant annoyance and inherent begging and fussing from him for you to go to the private gym with him- you give up.

he’s doing his pre workout gains but he literally almost drops the dumbbells he was curling with when he sees you; pretty lips in a concentrated puffed out pout, boobs so tight inside that compression shirt they’re begging to be popped out, curves accentuated by the thinly stretched leggings that make your ass look like two bubbles he wouldn’t be able to take his face out from.. this workout is different.

you ask him to spot you while you do your dumbbell squats, he’s a little too close to you when you push your ass out and bend down.

he can’t really stop himself from hunching over you, hands at your hips, kneading the plush skin there as the perversion takes over his mind and he mumble slowly while one of his hands snake around your waist.

“push out that ass more, it’ll engage your core.” the workout feels different, you’ve never really had a spotter before so you thought it was normal for an exercise.. guess you think pounding it out in the change rooms is normal too.

황현진 ~ hwang hyunjin ~ sex paintings, photos and videos

he loves you, he loves art- what is the difference between you and art?

hyunjin would snap photos of you almost all the time, he’d say it was for his inspiration bank and for his journal- the pictures of you waking up in the morning, or you smiling up at him while cuddling was for the journal at least.

the pictures of his hands imprinted on your ass and tear streaked face with your lips wrapped around his veiny cock.. not so much, those pictures are his gospel.

the only problem is that you’ve not been dating very long and he’s got videos of you touching yourself or sucking your dildo with no avail long before you got together- but those are some of his best portfolio.

it is true art how he fucked half your things and hid in your closet after your third date, your panties stuffed in his mouth and wrapped around his cock, your clothes engulfing him as he pointed the camera between the gap of the sliding mirrors at the perfect angle, zoomed in on your fingers dipping in and out of your pussy fervently and your pretty face moaning and crying at the pleasure

or how he managed to get a video of you so close as you ride your dildo on the floor right in front of him while he’s hidden in the closet, the way your pussy swallowed the stupid silicone cock- he made sure to commit that sight to memory while he jerked off on his various paintings of you in his basement, studying each video religiously so that when he finally got together with you; he was your god.

한지성 ~ han jisung ~ sex dreams about you

jisung’s never been so weirded out in his life, never so confused at how his mind managed to conjure up a scenario so scandalous of you- the most perfect innocent thing in his life.

he couldn’t ever imagine you so needy for him, so desperate for his cock like you were in his dream.. how the way you puffed out your cheeks and pouted up at him today after a rehcording session in the studio reminded him of how you sucked his dick with those pretty lips in that amazing dream.

with each consecutive day and each dream following, they got more and more intense and vulgar- his mind would fantasise about how you jumped on his dick, your boobs bouncing in front of his face just ready for him to suckle at.

and ever since those dreams started, he's not been able to look at you the same.. how could he when you're so much more innocent and pure with him?

but one time when you went over to his dorm after rehearsals with your group, expecting him to be at his desk writing lyrics or maybe even gaming- you didn't expect to see him fisting his red tipped cock with the shorts you lost a couple weeks ago.. so you didn't lose them then.

이용복 ~ lee felix ~ touching you subtly

felix is your best friend, he's been with you ever since trainee days- you were inseparable and he's the guy you trust the most out of everyone, sure he debuted first but he never forgot about you and didn't stop being close with you after.

it was almost routine to be touchy with him, physical touch is second nature so you pay no mind to when he pulls you onto his lap, arms wrapping around your waist and holding you close to his chest when your group was over for dinner.

you were talking up with others, he didn't really care though when he felt the pressure of your ass just pressing down on his dick, your pussy so close to the tent in his pants- no one would notice if he just pushed up into you a little, right? your skirt is covering up enough of it and you certainly don't seem like you're feeling it..

his hands, hidden by your skirt and his puffy jacket, caress the curve of your ass, your plush thigh. his other hand that was around your waist, hugs around you a little tighter as he feels the rounded swell of your breast, fingertips inching closer.

you, of course, don't really notice it.. you don't even notice it when he cuddled with you in bed after the little gathering's over, the alcohol's been drunk and you're passed out. you don't notice how his lips suckle at your nipples through your thin singlet, or how he rifles his tip between your folds when you moan out his name in your sleep.. you didn't even wake up when he came all over his hand as he jerked off to the wet spot of your panties.

김승민 ~ kim seungmin ~ sexual frustrations about you

seungmin hates this.. feeling so out of control and so helpless of his thoughts and emotions when he's usually so grounded. he hates how the littlest glimpse of you makes his heart flutter and his brain go dumb, you're just his junior.

he feels like he's going even more insane when he starts thinking about what you'd look like with your clothes on the floor or how soft your skin would be if he just groped at you.. why is he so frustrated?

the frustrations continue to grow when you smile up at him and hug him tight when you get the high note he's been helping you with the past hour, his dick immediately stiffening up and banging inside his boxers to be freed.

obviously he's able to control himself around you.. slightly. maybe he did accidentally brush up into your ass like five times, each time a bit more forced but its fine, those were just because you were moving boxes around in the music studio, how was it his fault that you were bent over and right in the middle of the room?

it's not. just like it's not his fault how he took a picture of you up your skirt multiple times, each picture increasingly covering more footage of your bare ass and slick pussy.. was that because of him?

양정인 ~ yang jeongin ~ stalking. literally just stalking.

okay so i imagine jeongin to like be swiping left on every stupid profile that came up on his screen, judging all the photos of the girls and thinking about what they'd be like in a relationship with him, 'too dumb, too dramatic, too annoying, too loud.'

you.. you stumped him. it was like everything about you matched him, as if you were his twin flame. he needed to know more about you, he has to. so he kept his tabs on you; it started out with just stalking your social media, making a fake account and following all your friends so when he requested you with that account it looked like you knew each other.

from that, he looked at your posts, eyeing the street behind you in a photo of you posing at the pool in your backyard- found out where you lived and managed to sneak in, introducing himself as your boyfriend to your neighbours if they ever got suspicious. stole your spare keys and basically a whole drawer of your panties and bras, installed a camera into the small crack in your wall and spent the night in the wardrobe of your spare bedroom.

that's when the fun began- he would take candid photos of you as you slept, it helped that you wore only a singlet and underwear so he got easy access to your boobs, your ass- your pretty pussy. how could he leave your pussy untouched when it was glistening under the light? one lick. that's all he allowed himself.

after studying how you liked to be pleasured, followed you around as you went on with your life (diverted any guys from your path permanently), he finally dm'd you.. he's well versed in the knowledge of you.

honestly i'm kind of into perv skz or like i wanna try explore darker tropes like yandere or psycho and also other headcanons with skz so i might write some fics on that or expand on some of these points if people are interested

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mrdogface · 2 days

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so i don't mind tim resigning, but i've read too many comic books and i'm too lost in the sauce here. they have stephanie brown being the reckless young jason todd-esque robin (love that for her), they kept mentioning jason and even had a brief story where batman explains jason to cassandra cain during "War Drums," and they keep cutting back to tim being upset that he's not robin any more.

and maybe this is just me but in the meta of superhero comics, that's pretty obvious "new robin is about to die" material. i haven't googled it and i will be fuckin furious if one of you dorks tells me, i have somehow managed to avoid the overwhelming majority of major spoilers (lol) except for jason's return because come on, but as of this exact moment in which i am writing this post on tumblr dot com, i do not know if stephanie brown dies or not. but i would also bet all $17 of my life savings on her dying, y'know?

and that imo kind of undermines timothy's whole retirement arc. the way superhero comics usually deal with characters who aren't destined to get back in quacktion is to just mention them in a throwaway dialogue bubble, like oracle saying "tim is still off the board," but devoting a whole page to him?

#stephanie brown #dc spoiler #dc comics #batman #batfam #tim drake #robin

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sillylittlegirlthoughts · 11 hours

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would you do high school harry with a girl who hes just sat next to for most of the school year (therre so clearly in love but deny it) and idk he just doenst want to go to his lesson but also doesnt want to skip on his own so he asks her and they skip AND if you alright writing it they just get high (from personal experience 😇😇) and talk and you can make them do what ever i dont care

SKIPPERS | w2s

thank you anon for this request! personally love this idea and sorry if it is shorter than anticipated but if you would like another maybe where they go back to school or you meeting harry’s parents after this then lemme know!

harry lewis x reader!

requests are always open! check a previous post to see a list of those i would love to write for

The bell rang through the school as the commotion of the class and corridors began to rise, every student heading to their next class. She too added to that as she rushed to her next class. English, was a subject that she despised, but the boy she sat next to made it not so bad.

Her and Harry got arranged seating at the beginning of the year. As a result of them both being extremely sheepish when around new people caused them not to speak for the first few weeks and only exchanging smiles of acknowledgment when passing one another in the halls. One Friday the teacher set a pair assignment for the weekend, when both her and Harry bonded over the thought of comics being better than actual novels they soon realised their common interests did not stop at that.

Their english classes were not spent practically and somehow they did even less work than they used to. With a few warning and many classmate judgements the pair found themselves inseparable.

Whether it was them both ignoring the smitten nature of their relationship or they were too busy thinking of each other to think of the reason why, Harry and Y/n had both failed to acknowledge the obvious connection they had.

It became extremely obvious to their classmates and their friends that they talked about one another too much to be ‘just friends.’

She walked and waited outside Harry’s class waiting for the dismissal. Harry came out of the room, lugging his bag on one shoulder ruffling his hair with the other hand. “You alright?” She asked, furrowing an eyebrow at the distressed boy. “Yeah, yeah. Just knackered. Don’t want to do this bullshit of a class.” He moaned as they trailed alongside eachother.

“Harry it’ll be alright. We always have a laugh in English!” She exclaimed as she tried to put a smile on his face. “I really dunno. I don’t want to go. But I don’t want to bloody skip by myself either!”

He looked around aimlessly as he contemplated what to do. “Y/n, would you come skip with me?” He asked her, his eyes filled with hope.

“I thought you’d never ask!” She joked.

After they had managed to make it off school grounds they headed towards a football pitch secluded in the back of a park nearby.

“See! This is so much better than English!” Harry uttered as he dropped his bag on the ground, running to a football in the net. He brought it out and took a kick of it. The ball was quite filthy and deflated too but Harry was having an exceptional amount of fun. The ball hit the netting at the back of the net as Harry ran around in excitement. She giggled at him, admiring how much fun he was getting out of the sad little football he had found. He ventured for the football and brought it to the spot. “Have a go.”

“What?”

“C’mon! Have a go. It’s easy just do a little run up and kick with the inside of your foot.” He lectured her, running his hand across the inside of his foot whilst doing so. “Right then.”

She giggled as she ran slightly to the ball, watching Harry shout to her with words of encouragement. She kicked the ball and it flew into the net. Harry yelled and ran to the girl, embracing her as he swung her around. “That was class, y/n!”

“Harry! I just seen you bloody do that about six times!” She stifled a laugh, admiring the boys complete giddiness.

“Yeah but from you! That brilliant from you!” He stated as he walked back to his bag, propping himself against the post and he sat down. “Oi!” She hit the boy playfully over the back of his head, and sat down facing him.

At first they contemplated how they would manage to pass the remainder of the day out in the bitter cold but it was soon resolved when Harry brought some things for them to smoke.

Their bodies were soon warmed up and their minds were flowing. As they both lay on their stomachs and talked about their mates in school they noticed how much fun they were having and dodging the thoughts of any trouble they might get in later.

Harry couldn’t stop laughing at anything the girl said, he admired her true smile and how much it enhanced her beauty. His brain was fumbled. He finally admitted to himself this afternoon to his true feelings about her and he didn’t know how to act. He had pushed it away for so long so it didn’t bother him but now that he had admitted it to himself he couldn’t help but feel so out of place. He was awkward, fidgeting with his fingers and constantly running through his hair to the point where she asked,

“Are you okay?”

He stared at the girl blankly as his eyes grew heavy and his expression started to seep into confusion.

He then did something so impulsive that it even stunned him. He leaned in and she followed suit and then he connected their lips, the kiss was slow and sweet. She was a gentle kisser and her hands trailed to his hair slowly tangling through his blonde mess. She could feel him smile through the kiss and they slowly pulled away and he rested his forehead on hers and they both just smiled in content.

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kieraelieson · 2 days

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"One Emo Latte, with Extra Soulmates"

All Five Chapters - Or Read on AO3

Roll the Poll fic 1: Janus, Virgil, and Remy in a triad. In a Hurt/Comfort fic with a Soulmates universe and the prompt ‘housing’.

Content warning for kidnapping, fear of death, mild self-injury, quite a bit of cursing, as well as societal and specific poly-phobia.

Virgil’s head nodded and he jerked it upright. He’d hoped the smell of coffee would keep him awake, but he’d been nodding off ever since midnight.

“Heya, babes,” the barista said, giving him a wry, apologetic smile.

Virgil knew immediately why he was there. “Two hours again already?”

Remy nodded, peeking at Virgil over his shades. “Why don’t you head home and get some sleep? You could certainly use it.”

Virgil sighed, his inhibitions broken down by the lack of sleep and the way his favorite barista had allowed him to nod off in the corner all night, only following protocol when necessary. Namely, that a customer had to buy something every two hours, or else be asked to leave.

“I’m having… housing difficulties…” Virgil admitted, not willing to share any more.

Remy put a hand on his hip, considering Virgil. He then glanced around the cafe, confirming that it was empty. He sat down across from Virgil.

“We may be open 24 hours, but this really isn’t a great option.”

Virgil nodded. “Yeah, I know. I can— I can just go.”

“Hold on, bitch. I’m not kicking you out. Just trying to help you find a place to sleep.”

Virgil shrugged helplessly. “I don’t have much cash for a hotel or something.”

“What about your soulmate?” Remy asked. “I’m sure they’ll be willing to put you up for a night.” He winked at Virgil. “Pretty lil emo down on his luck, I’d tap that too.”

The flirty joke pulled a half grin out of Virgil. “I haven’t met him yet,” he admitted.

Remy shrugged. “Loads of soulmates are close to each other before they meet. Scribble down the address of the cafe. See if he shows up. Here, I’ve got a pen.”

Virgil took the pen, staring at it doubtingly.

Remy stood and stretched. “I need some caffeine in me too. I’ll treat you for this one.”

Virgil’s eyes went wide and he gaped at Remy. “No, you don’t have to do that!”

Remy just waved a hand dismissively in his direction, already going behind the counter and starting to pull out cups.

Virgil’s gaze was drawn to the pen again. He didn’t really dare to ask his soulmates for help. Not writing on his skin in public. They too clearly had different handwriting. Were too clearly Two.

It was the very reason he was out here now. Slipping up and referring to plural soulmates. His roommates didn’t want someone near them with two soulmates. No one did.

He’d been stopping by this cafe for over a year now, had made friends with Remy. He didn’t want to throw that away on a chance of a bed. He’d manage. He’d be fine. Somehow.

Maybe he’d try to get back inside the apartment anyway. Just cause his roommates didn’t like it, it wasn’t like they would physically force him out, right? If he just stayed in his room. Kept the door locked. He already wore long shirts and pants. As long as his soulmates didn’t screw him over with writing on his hands or face or something.

Remy came back, setting a steaming cup in front of Virgil. A to-go cup.

“Any responses?” Remy asked.

Virgil forced a smile. “Yeah, um, I’ve gotta get on the next bus, but he’ll meet me.”

“There you go!” Remy praised. “Have a nice night, practice safe sex, tell me all about it at some reasonable hour.”

Virgil stood up, taking the cup and laughing along with Remy. He left the cafe, abandoning the warm lit environment for the empty streets.

Someone entered just as he was leaving. Virgil only got a brief glimpse of him, but he was very unique, especially wearing a hat like that.

••^*^••

Remy huffed as Janus entered. And just after Virgil left too. He usually got a bit of time to chill on an overnight shift.

“Oh, and I’m just overjoyed to see you too,” Janus said smoothly, leaning against the counter with an entirely too attractive grin.

Remy rolled his eyes. “What’s your snakey ass doing bothering me at bitch o'clock in the morning?”

“A man can get a coffee, can’t he?” Janus purred, looking perfectly innocent.

“Not you,” Remy snarked, already starting to make Janus’s favorite.

Janus just smiled.

“Why are you really here?” Remy pushed.

Janus looked at his wrist, noticeably lacking in a watch. “Oh dear, what time is it?”

Remy scowled. “No.”

Janus looked back up at him, all innocence. “No? I genuinely do not have the time.”

Remy gritted his teeth. “You know someday I will not do this for you.”

Janus batted his eyelashes.

Remy shoved his coffee at him. “You’re lucky you’re pretty, bastard. It’s 4:27 am.”

Janus smirked triumphantly. “I was just chatting with you and sipping my coffee till 5.”

“Bitch.”

Janus wiggled his gloved fingers in Remy’s direction, sauntering out of the cafe. “I’ll owe you~”

“You better pay up this time, asshole!” Remy snapped at his back.

Fucking pretty ass Janus. And fuck his own crush on the man! He’d never have been dragged into all this if he could just keep it in his pants.

••^*^••

Janus arrived at the location. Why Remus had ever decided they had to meet up here was a mystery. As were most things about the man.

But. It was within walking distance of that cafe where Remy worked, so he had an easy alias and no license plate to track. His hat kept his face out of view from any cameras he didn’t discover ahead of time and avoid. It was early enough in the morning that both night owls and early risers were likely to be in bed.

Janus waited outside the apartments, putting himself in the shadow of a large ornamental shrub. Just a few minutes later a car drove up.

“Heya, Jan!” Remus greeted, throwing open the driver side door.

Janus grimaced at his volume, snapping in hushed tones. “Would you keep it down?”

Remus rolled his eyes obnoxiously, and then fished out a folder. “I got all the juicy details for you~”

Janus accepted the folder, flicking through it rapidly just to confirm Remus hadn’t swapped it with some folder of which sex toys he preferred or some nonsense.

“I appreciate it,” Janus said. “I’ll pay you the usual—“

He cut off as there was suddenly a loud crash from inside the nearest apartment. Janus cursed. This was why he would have preferred a different meeting location!

Remus craned his neck, trying to sneak a peek through the apartment window. “Oh this is perfect! Any suspicious persons’ reports will point right to those guys.”

Janus tensed, despite Remus’s optimism, as yelling continued from in the apartment. It was too muffled for him to tell what was going on, but he didn’t care to know either.

“We should get out of here,” Janus said.

Just then, the door to the apartment opened, and someone was pushed roughly out, falling to the pavement.

“Don’t let me see your freak ass again or I Will beat the shit out of you!” A man from within the apartment yelled, slamming the door shut.

Janus winced. He did not want to be a part of some domestic dispute. He turned to walk away, even if Remus was going to be an idiot and stay to watch.

But then the crumpled man on the ground said something that stopped Janus in his tracks.

Just one word. A simple, “You?” Implying recognition.

Fuck.

Janus didn’t know the man from Adam. But he was not allowing someone to see him, in this location, at this time, knowing who he was somehow. No. He could not leave witnesses.

He turned to Remus. “Help me.”

Remus, showing off one of his brief streaks of competency, scrambled out of the car and dashed the few feet towards the man.

Janus slid into the driver’s seat just as Remus pulled the struggling man into the backseat, one hand covering his mouth. He sped out of the apartment complex, taking roads with less cameras and getting out of the town.

Fuck, what was he going to do now?!

Chapter Two

Virgil was going to die.

He’d thought he could just slip into the apartment and to his room with everyone asleep, but Roger was still up, and saw him immediately. He confronted Virgil, ruining all plans of laying low as his words quickly became yelling. Virgil tried to defend himself, that he couldn’t help how many soulmates he had, and he hadn’t even met them! But Roger didn’t care. He wanted Virgil out.

Virgil, with a confidence built only of the coffee he could still taste on his tongue, had refused to leave. He’d thought that, angry as they might get, his roommates wouldn’t actually escalate to physically pushing him out.

Oh how wrong that was.

His ribs still ached from the several hits they’d absorbed before he’d been shoved out the door. And his head was spinning and aching from the impact against the coffee table.

And also the fact that he was going to die.

That guy with the hat was doing some, some drug deal or something, who knew, and Virgil like a supreme dumbass had opened his mouth.

Tall, big, and stinky had grabbed him, an arm wrapped around both of his, pinning them to his torso, and the other hand clamped over his nose and mouth. He couldn’t scream, couldn’t get the breath to. All his kicking and wriggling hadn’t been enough before he was pulled into the car.

And now they were driving away.

He was So Dead.

The guy holding him shifted the hand over his face once the car was moving, uncovering his nose so Virgil could breathe freely. He sucked in air, tears beginning to leak from his eyes.

He was the fucking worst, unluckiest son of a bitch to ever exist. Two soulmates, homeless now, kidnapped. And they didn’t have masks on. No masks meant he could recognize them, and they wouldn’t leave him alive.

He was going to die.

He didn’t want to die!

His whole life he’d been looked down on or bullied for having two soulmates but he’d never even met them! He wanted to at least see them before he died.

Virgil’s breath came faster, catching in his congested nose and making him panic. He needed to breathe! He couldn’t breathe!

His chest heaved with sobs and his desperate attempts to get air.

“Might get loud,” the man holding him said, and then abruptly the hand over Virgil’s mouth was gone.

Virgil gasped, drinking in the air. Without the cover over his mouth his sobs rang out loud in the otherwise silent car. If he wasn’t so thoroughly miserable and about to die anyway he would’ve been embarrassed, might’ve managed to stop himself, but he just couldn’t.

“I don’t wanna— Please, don’t kill me!” He forced out between sobs.

“We’re not going to kill you,” the driver snapped.

He didn’t know if he could believe it. But even without a single assurance that it was the truth, relief flooded through Virgil.

“I didn’t see anything,” he blurted. “I-I don’t have a clue who you are. I don’t know what you were doing. I d-don’t know anything. I swear I won’t tell anyone anything!”

The driver made a frustrated sound. “Just— shut up.”

Virgil fell silent, other than his breath coming in hiccuping half-sobs.

“What is our plan, Jannie?” The man holding him asked.

The driver made a rough, growling sound. “For now, I’m getting us out of town. We’ll have to find a way to manage him without you carrying him everywhere so I can drop you off. I’ll figure out what to do from there. And I’ll need to keep the car.”

“I’ve got duct tape!” The man said, entirely too happily.

Virgil squirmed against his hold, trying to get his arms free to— to— to make a nuisance of himself at least. Of the two men, one had recognized his need to breathe, and the other had told him to shut up. He liked his living chances better with both of them than just the one.

But the man holding Virgil was far too strong for him to fight against, and soon Virgil was pressed down into a car seat, his arms pulled behind his back. He bit back another sob as his wrists were taped together, and then the tape wound around his torso and arms haphazardly.

“Check him for anything dangerous,” the driver said. “And anything he could use to contact someone.”

A chill ran down Virgil’s spine. He was gonna die anyway, wasn’t he?

••^*^••

Janus’s mind had been nothing but a steady stream of ‘Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck’ ever since he’d heard the crash in that apartment.

Now he had a man tied up in the car, terrified for his life, and no idea what to do with him.

Now that he had the folder, Janus’s plans had been to buckle down and work on the contents. It would take him days, and that was if he managed to be fast enough. He didn’t have Time for a problem like this!

And even if he Had time, that still left the question of what was he going to do?? He couldn’t let him go, that was obvious. He definitely wasn’t going to kill him. The only other option seemed to be keeping him, but that wasn’t at all viable long term.

At least for the moment though, Janus couldn’t see any other options.

Remus had flipped up the man’s hood over his eyes, so he couldn’t look out and around at where they were as they approached a place where Janus could drop Remus off. He also properly buckled him in before he got out, a thing he ought to have done ages ago. Since then, the man had been quiet.

Janus drove, looping around and doubling back multiple times on his way to his house. The less the man knew about where they were and how to get back, the better.

Janus sighed heavily as he parked. His gut was already twisted in knots, his conscience screaming with how much he’d already done to this random person. And here he was about to scare him more.

He pulled out the gun he knew Remus had hidden in the car, pointing it at the man, held low enough that he could see it under the hood.

The man stiffened, but Janus didn’t give him time to beg for his life again. He didn’t think he’d manage to hold onto him at all if he did. He was cursed with a bleeding heart and if this man begged again he might just let him go and fuck all the consequences.

“You’re going to stay quiet.” Janus commanded. “You’re going to come with me into the building, and you’re going to do everything I say.”

The man nodded rapidly, his breathing getting fast and shallow.

“I don’t want to bother keeping this gun pointed at you the whole time, but be assured I will always have it on hand.”

The man nodded again.

Janus tucked the gun into his waistband, wishing he’d had the forethought to bring a holster. Then he got out of the car. When he opened the back door, the man stayed silent, as he’d been told to. Janus undid the buckle and guided him into the house.

He breathed slightly easier once he was inside the house with the door locked.

Now what?

He couldn’t just start in on work with curious eyes wandering around.

It was nearly seven now. Maybe he’d make breakfast.

He knew he was just continuing to push the real problem down the road, but he hadn’t come up with any answers.

Janus left the man standing in the dining room and started looking through his fridge. He wanted something that would take a bit of time. Push that problem just a bit further before he reached a point where he had to deal with it.

He finally pulled out some vegetables and started chopping them. He took his time slowly making complex omelets, only looking towards his captive when the man maneuvered his way to the floor to sit.

Unfortunately, even after the long cooking, Janus didn’t have any better ideas. This was so far out of the realm of what he expected he’d never planned for it, never considered it before.

He carried the plates into the dining room and set them at the table. He helped pull the man up so he could sit in a proper chair. Then he flipped back his hood.

It was the first real look he’d gotten at the man’s face. Janus swallowed. His… very pretty face. If he wasn’t careful this would be Remy all over again, only worse because he’d already drug this man so deep into his mess he couldn’t see a way to get him out again.

Janus’s second reaction was pity. The man was blinking in the brighter light, out from under the shade of his hood, and his face was tearstained and red, streaked with black eyeshadow. Janus also noticed a large bump near the back of his head.

He gently probed it, concerned as the man winced, trying to duck away from his hand. This was recent. Remus hadn’t knocked him around any. It must have been in the commotion in the apartment.

Janus went back to the kitchen. He got a cloth and dampened it, then also got an ice pack.

“If I take off the tape, you will not attempt to attack me or run away,” Janus said. He’d found that in many cases, phrasing questions as statements and statements as questions tended to throw off the other person, and he got what he wanted more easily.

The man nodded silently. Janus remembered that he’d told him to be quiet earlier. He moved behind the man, cutting at the tape with scissors. “You’re welcome to speak, so long as you aren’t loud.”

“Thanks,” the man muttered.

“Are you in pain?” Janus asked, considering whether this was a simple ice and ibuprofen type of situation, or whether he would need to attempt further first aid.

The man shrugged, picking up the cloth and cleaning his face, then holding the ice pack to the bump on his head.

Janus rolled his eyes at the non-response. “Would you object to taking painkillers?”

That prompted a quiet, “No.”

Janus retrieved the bottle, opening it in plain view so it could be seen he wasn’t switching the pills with anything. He got two cups of water, and then sat down to eat his own, rather cool by now, breakfast.

“What’s gonna happen now?” The man asked, looking up at Janus.

His gaze was piercing, possibly even more so because he didn’t intend it to be. Janus feigned nonchalance.

“I’m not telling you. You’ll find out as it happens.”

He could see a faint shudder run through the man. He didn’t have a better answer though, for him or for himself.

••^*^••

Remy had been thinking about Virgil ever since he left. He hoped it had gone well, getting picked up by his soulmate.

It drew his mind to his own soulmates. At a young age they’d come to realize how dangerous it was to be three, and they tried to spare each other the danger.

He didn’t know either of their names. Didn’t know where they lived. What they did for work. Nothing. He hadn’t even contacted them in several weeks.

He wanted to.

The desire built up over the remainder of his shift, and when he got home Remy caved to it.

He scrawled in sharpie, high up on his thigh where it wouldn’t be easily noticed regardless of what he chose to wear, Heya. How’s it going?

Chapter Three

Virgil noticed the note on his thigh when he used the bathroom. It gave him an idea. A brief flutter of hope.

His phone might have been taken from him, but if he could manage to contact his soulmates, maybe he could get help.

He exited the bathroom, and immediately his captor’s gaze was on him, watching as Virgil returned to the couch. He didn’t seem to be unkind. He’d given Virgil food, and painkillers, and hadn’t hurt him. Was even letting him walk around this house without being tied up.

And it was a house. Not like an abandoned warehouse or a back alley or any of the other scary locations Virgil had expected to end up in. He might… not die?

His captor was still incredibly intimidating though, and was keeping a close eye on Virgil. He didn’t know where to find a pen or a marker, and even if he did, he was sure he’d be discovered with whatever he wrote on his skin.

But if he did something temporary maybe?

Virgil tentatively laid down on the couch. His captor watched him do it, but then went back to reading through some paperwork of some kind. Virgil rolled over, facing the back of the couch.

It made his skin crawl to have his back to the man, but he had a purpose for it. It gave him just a bit of cover, just enough hopefully.

Virgil pushed his sleeve up. He was going to dare to do this on his arm. He knew his soulmates mostly wore clothes that covered skin, but if any part of them would catch their attention, forearm was a safe bet.

Taking his thumbnail, Virgil pressed hard into his skin, dragging the nail to make a white line in his skin. The white quickly became an irritated red, but he knew from experience that the red would be gone in just a few minutes. He slowly made more lines on his skin, trying to keep his movements small so he wouldn’t be noticed.

Help

••^*^••

Remy stared at the faint red lines on his forearm as they appeared. He’d noticed around the time the H was completed, while he was changing into pajamas to sleep the day away. His curiosity quickly turned to concern as the word finished.

He grabbed a pen, scribbling onto his wrist.

How?

As he watched, waiting, the Help faded on his arm. Definitely not red pen. That… that definitely seemed worse.

In response, he got a slow and scratchy-looking number. A phone number.

Well. Remy could definitely call.

The phone rung multiple times, eventually going to voicemail, unanswered.

“Hey, this is Virgil. I missed you somehow, but just send a text or leave a message and I’ll try and get back to you later.”

Remy frowned, confused and more than a little unbelieving. Virgil?? What did Virgil have to do with this?? With one of his soulmates? But it was definitely his voice.

Virgil was supposed to be on a bus right about now, maybe even picked up already by his own soulmate. Maybe Virgil’s soulmate was nearby to Remy’s soulmate? This was all just so weird and confusing.

Remy next tried texting.

Hey, everything alright?

The response he got back alarmed him even more, though it didn’t remove any of his confusion.

Hello. He’s at the hospital. Unconscious, but stable. He was in a car accident. I’m informing his family and work through his contacts, and then turning the phone off. He won’t be able to come in for a few days.

Remy stared at the text for a long few minutes. So Virgil didn’t have his own phone. He’d never talk like that. And whoever did seemed to think that Remy was someone from his job? And he was in the hospital?!!

Remy wrote on his wrist, just under the how?

???

He didn’t have any better ideas of what to write.

There was no response. Not for a while.

Then finally.

Help

Please

Remy started looking online to see if there were any way to track someone based on just a phone number.

••^*^••

Janus didn’t know why he hadn’t considered that of course the man had a job. They’d both startled when the phone rang, and the man had cringed into the couch, rapidly throwing out any number of apologies for being called by his boss, as if Janus was going to fault him for that.

Janus had figured out something to send back, and sent it to the top few contacts on the phone just in case before turning it completely off.

What was he supposed to do now?

Surely people would begin looking for the man sooner than later. And Janus could manage to whisk him into hiding, but that would be a lot of work. And… he wasn’t sure he could handle it, emotionally. The longer this went on, the worse he felt.

He wasn’t cut out to be a kidnapper. Certainly not a kidnapper of a random handsome stranger. If he’d hated the man, perhaps he would be managing this better.

An idea was beginning to form though. An idiotic idea. A stupid, horrible, terrible, dangerous idea.

If he could get the man on his side, he wouldn’t need to hold him captive. On the other hand, if the man was absolutely against rights for people with multiple soulmates, well, it would be easier for Janus to hate him.

On the dangerous side, if the man was smart and had an ounce of self-preservation, he’d go along with everything Janus said, at least verbally, and then go straight to the police as soon as he was released.

The real question was if the danger of that outweighed the twisting in his gut every time he scared the man. Janus was way too fucking soft for this. He should’ve kept Remus here.

Janus sighed. He was an over-emotional fool.

••^*^••

Virgil was trying hard to stay calm. It wasn’t working.

His soulmate had actually called. Really and truly. And then his captor had sent some kind of message in response and had turned his phone off. Virgil hoped he’d convinced him that it was just work calling cause he was late. But he hoped more that his soulmate could actually do something with the little information.

Only one soulmate had responded to his desperate messages, but with such a short time on his skin, he wasn’t surprised that the other hadn’t noticed.

His arm tingled unpleasantly, the skin irritated and tender.

Suddenly, his captor let out a sigh. Virgil tensed as the man closed his folder and turned his attention entirely towards Virgil.

Virgil carefully sat up.

“I imagine you are aware that it is possible to have more than one soulmate,” his captor said.

A tremor ran through Virgil. Oh shit. Oh shit, oh shit, he wasn’t kidnapped randomly cause he witnessed the deal. He was kidnapped for having two soulmates, this was So Much Worse! And he’d gone and asked one of his soulmates for help!! They’d be pulled into this!

His captor’s lips pressed together. He continued speaking. “Having multiple soulmates is estimated to occur in 0.67% of people. Though many of those hide this fact, so the percentage may well be inaccurate.”

Virgil hesitantly nodded. He had to try and stay on this man’s good side.

“The reason it’s often a hidden fact is that society frowns heavily on those with multiple soulmates,” his captor said, emotion flickering over his face. An emotion Virgil never expected. Something like… grief?

“Many people don’t know until they run into it that there are laws restricting actions by those with multiple soulmates, particularly if it can be proven that the individual has multiple.”

Virgil actually didn’t know that. He’d heard rumors, but had always just tried to lay low himself.

“Because of societal standards, it’s incredibly hard to change these laws… through normal avenues.”

Virgil swallowed. This sounded an awful lot like telling him about illegal things. He’d be an accomplice. Maybe. He wasn’t entirely sure how that worked. But regardless, he’d never be allowed to live once he heard about illegal plans.

He couldn’t deny his curiosity, but more than that he was scared. He covered his ears with his hands.

“I-I don’t know why you’re telling me this!” Virgil blurted. “Look, good for you trying to help us, but don’t tell me illegal shit! The more you tell me the more I can tell police, and I’m not an idiot, I know you can’t just let that go. I don’t wanna end up dead, stop telling me things that’ll make me end up dead!”

He finally managed to shut himself up. He’d never intended to say all that. He glanced up at his captor’s face, expecting a scowl, or even the gun pointed at him again. But instead there was a sort of pleased shock.

“Us?”

Virgil’s face drained of blood. “N-no, I didn’t mean that. I meant to say them. Them.”

The man grinned. “You definitely said us.”

“I didn’t!” Virgil protested. “Or I didn’t mean to!”

“You have multiple soulmates,” the man said, his grin widening.

“I do not!” Virgil yelled, accidentally breaking the ‘be quiet’ rule. “I don’t! I-I-I’m normal! I’m not a—“ his voice cracked, and he swiped angrily at his eyes, which were leaking again.

The man’s expression softened. “It’s alright,” he said gently.

“It’s not!” Virgil argued. Why he was being an idiot and getting angry and upset and arguing when the man across from him had a gun he had no idea. But he couldn’t seem to help it. Feelings were rushing up from his chest, pouring out his throat. “It’s not ok! It’s never been ok! People always hate you for it and I can’t… I haven’t even met them!”

He was crying. He swiped his sleeves over his face.

“Why does everyone hate me for it? I didn’t even get to meet them. Everyone else gets to find their soulmate! Everyone else gets a happy ever after! Why do they fucking hate me so bad!?”

At some point the other man had moved from his chair across from Virgil to sitting on the couch next to him. He took the hand Virgil was tugging at his hair with, loosening his grip on the strands.

“I have multiple too,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, hard to hear over the harsh breaths stuttering out of Virgil’s mouth.

“I didn’t even get to meet them,” Virgil repeated, the words coming out in a whimper.

“You should’ve gotten to,” the man said.

The words seemed to ring in Virgil’s mind, not quite sinking in, but refusing to leave.

“You deserve to meet your soulmates,” the man said firmly. “You deserve to get to love them. To be near them. Just as much as anyone else.”

Virgil stared at him, the validation cracking a dam he’d long held within him, emotion flooding out and overwhelming his already strained system. He lurched forward, clinging for comfort to a source he never would’ve considered.

The man let him cling, even wrapped his own arms around Virgil, gently shushing him and telling him it would all be ok.

Chapter Four

Janus wasn’t sure how this had happened. But he’d held the man while he cried, and now he had another damp cloth, wiping his face.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I’m like this. I guess I just haven’t slept and…” the man trailed off, hugging one of Janus’s throw pillows to his stomach.

“Would you like me to take you home?” Janus asked. He hadn’t thought it through. But he didn’t regret it either. Regardless of what he chose to do next, this man didn’t deserve to be held captive and scared.

The man’s face cycled from surprise back to teary. “I don’t have one anymore.”

Janus pressed his lips together. Well, he had seen the man forcefully kicked out.

“You’re welcome to stay if you like. As a guest. I won’t force you. Or if there’s somewhere you’d like me to take you?”

The man’s face scrunched up, clearly caught between gratitude and suspicion. “Why would you do that?”

Janus gave him a small smile and a shrug. “You’re like me. If I’m going to fight for us, how could I then hurt one of us?”

“But—but I still saw your weird deal. A-and I can recognize you. I could tell the cops and— you definitely shouldn’t just let me go.”

Janus’s smile became wry. “I’ll have to take the chance that you won’t.”

The man just looked disbelieving.

Janus set down his cloth. “I won’t ask that we start over. I’ve already done more than I expect to be forgiven for. But perhaps we could try introductions? My name is Janus.”

Despite his disbelief, after a moment the man held out a hand. “Virgil.”

Janus shook it gently. “I’m glad to make your acquaintance, Virgil. Would you honor me by being my guest? If you haven’t slept, there’s a bed you’re welcome to use.”

Virgil rubbed his eyes with his sleeves. “It’s not fair to kidnap someone and then be all nice. Giving off real mixed signals.”

Janus couldn’t help chuckling. “I should not have kidnapped you. I’m truly sorry.”

Virgil shrugged. “You had to. Someone saw you doing illegal shit. This is the weird part.”

Janus kept chuckling, something traitorous in his chest doing little flips. “I’m well aware.”

Virgil blinked, slowly, and Janus could see as tiredness began beating his inhibitions.

“I think… yeah. I might take you up on the bed. Would you…” The spark of fear returned to his eyes for a moment. “Would you put the gun somewhere? Out of reach.”

Janus nodded solemnly. At some point, he would explain to Virgil that this particular gun was incapable of shooting, but this didn’t seem like the time.

Janus stood, offering a hand to help Virgil up. Virgil didn’t take his hand, but did follow as Janus directed him to the bedroom. Janus left him alone and went back to work, but he was unable to get him out of his mind.

••^*^••

Virgil curled up on the bed, feeling awkward about laying in someone else’s bedroom. The exhaustion was tugging at him far more than the awkwardness, however, and he was slowly relaxing.

His mind was still full of swirling emotions, but fear had retreated to one of the smallest. The man- Janus, was definitely still doing illegal shit, but he was trying to help people with multiple soulmates. He may have kidnapped Virgil, but looking back, about the worst thing he actually did to him was to tie him up with tape and threaten him with a gun.

Virgil frowned. Those were definitely bad things. So why was his brain trying to say they paled in comparison to what he’d said? Actions were definitely more telling than words.

But those words.

You deserve to meet your soulmates.

You deserve to get to love them. To be near them.

They’d pierced somewhere deep within Virgil, letting light and air in, allowing him to want. And now he couldn’t stop himself from wanting.

He felt he might owe Janus something deeper and more important than the kidnapping.

And his mental image of Janus had shifted from the terrifying stranger in an odd hat, and now was all warm chest and soft words. And acceptance.

They were alike. They both had multiple soulmates. Virgil had never met anyone else with multiple soulmates, at least not knowingly. Having his deepest secret not only known, but shared. It screwed up his self-protective instincts, already putting Janus as part of Us, when he should undeniably be a Them.

Virgil’s brain flitted over the idea of helping Janus, and he tried desperately to cut off that possibility entirely. He was not about to get himself into criminal business just because a handsome man was just like him and trying to help and… oh fuck he was genuinely considering it.

Virgil buried his face in the nearest pillow. This was idiotic. This was death wish levels of stupid. He should not be considering this!! He’d just been kidnapped by the man for fuck’s sake!

••^*^••

It had been nearly an hour of Remy trying to figure out how to use a phone number to track a person. He’d stumbled across more information about Virgil than the anxious man would ever be comfortable knowing could be found on the internet, but no way of tracking where his phone was at the moment.

And still the minutes kept trickling by.

There were no new messages. Remy kept his sleeve rolled up, and checked it every few minutes just in case, but nothing.

He was getting more and more concerned, both for his unknown soulmate, and for Virgil.

He had one more option, either to help him, or to convince him that everything would be fine. Janus.

Janus owed him anyway.

And if he was in the cafe wanting an alibi the night before, he was almost sure to be holed up in his house ignoring all attempts to contact him. So Remy would have to go to him.

That decided, Remy grabbed one of his emergency cold coffees from the fridge and got into his car.

Janus’s house was maybe 20 minutes away. Remy kept his sleeve pulled high, glancing away from the road on occasion in case of further messages.

He unlocks Janus’s door without bothering to knock first.

“Jay! Gotta problem here.”

Janus comes quickly around the corner, concern and alarm plain on his face. “What happened? Are you alright?”

Remy gestures to his arm. “I am, but apparently my soulmate isn’t, and it’s got some weird crazy thing to do with my friend Virgil, and you’d better have some cool illegal way to track a bitch, cause I am not used to being a worrier and I hate it!”

Janus blinked several times at the barrage of words. Remy cursed at his slow uptake. “Come on, Jay! Open your little bag of tricks and help me out here.”

“Virgil?” Janus asked, apparently painfully slow today.

Remy groaned loudly. “Yes. I’ve told you about him before. And apparently I’ve got a soulmate near him, cause I was sent his number and a message for help.”

Janus takes his hand, frowning down at his arm, bare of everything other than what he’d written himself.

There’s the sound of a door from further in the house, and Remy has only a moment to wonder who Janus has over when a very familiar figure comes around the corner.

“Remy?” Virgil asks, and then when he sees him, “Remy!”

Virgil unexpectedly runs forward and grips Remy around the waist. They hadn’t really… hugged before. So it’s strange, but Remy’s concern being suddenly relieved at seeing Virgil unhurt outweighs that. He wraps a protective arm around Virgil.

“Oh hell, nah. There’s some major explaining to do.” Seeing Janus looking guilty, Remy jabs a finger at him, sloshing the remainder of his drink inside the cup. “You. Talk. Now.”

Janus abruptly looks even more guilty.

Virgil suddenly gasped, grabbing at Remy’s arm and staring. Before Remy can explain about his soulmate’s messages, Virgil is shoving his own sleeve up, holding it close to compare.

Remy stared with wide eyes. It was Virgil. Virgil was his soulmate. One of them, anyway.

“Oh, you lied to me,” he breathed out, not genuinely upset. He understood lying about multiple soulmates. He’d done the same himself many times.

Suddenly, several things clicked together in his head, and he rounded on Janus. “What the hell did you do?!”

Janus raised both hands. “There’s a whole story to it, Rem—“

Remy stepped forward, backing Janus against a wall, using his extra few inches to loom over him. “Better start telling then.”

“I’m fine… now,” Virgil said, sounding almost defensive of Janus.

Remy’s eyebrows shot up. There was some Tea here. And he was Going to be told All of it.

After a full explanation, Remy stood above Janus, his arms crossed. Janus looked supremely guilty, as he Was.

Remy grabbed his arm, shoving the sleeve up. As he now expected, his scrawl was on Janus’s wrist as well.

“I told you we should check if we were soulmates!” He exclaimed.

Janus just stared with wide eyes, awe taking over his expression. He reached out softly to Virgil, comparing his arm to his as well.

Virgil was just looking back and forth between the two of them with shock and wonder.

“Alright babes,” Remy said authoritatively. “This is how it’s gonna go. You,” he pointed at Janus. “Are going to pull out your first aid kit and we’ll check Virgil over for any hurt he got from that asshole he used to call a roommate. Then you’re going to give us your bedroom for a nap, and treat us both to a good lunch when we wake up from a nap. After that, and only after, will we start to consider forgiving you.”

Janus grimaced, but to his credit, he knew when it wasn’t the time to argue.

“You,” he turned on Virgil. “Are going to show us everywhere that hurts. Once I’m convinced that you’re properly ok, then it’s nap time. I’ll let you make your own decisions on Janus after. As far as I’m concerned, he’s sleeping on the couch tonight and owes me about a hundred coffees.”

Janus was starting to look genuinely dejected, and Remy grabbed his collar, pulling him in for a deep kiss.

“Tonight we talk about being soulmates,” he said more gently. “And how we want to play that.”

Virgil grabbed Remy’s hand in one of his, and Janus’s with the other. His eyes were shining. He didn’t say anything, but he squeezed both their hands tightly.

Well! Discovering two of his favorite people were his soulmates. Not a bad day.

Chapter Five

~one month later~

Virgil read the paper carefully, studying each word at a time. He highlighted a line before passing it to Janus.

“This bit reads oddly.”

Janus looked at it, and his nose wrinkled. “That bit was original.”

Virgil scrunched his face up. “That’s been in the law?”

Janus shrugged, the look of disgust on his face apparent. “There’s a reason I’m changing it.”

Now that he was a full part of Janus’s operation, Virgil had been told everything. Janus was slowly taking laws and regulations, tweaking them subtly, and getting a man on the inside to swap them with the originals. That man, Patton, was married to Remus’s brother, and they had another partner named Logan who was not yet let in on illegal activity.

Change was slow. Incremental. It had to be. It couldn’t be noticed, or everything would be ruined.

But a law here tweaked to be more lenient, a regulation loosened there, and society gradually became less hostile to people with multiple soulmates. Slowly.

Virgil reached over, wrapping his fingers over Janus’s. Janus smiled at him softly, and raised his hand to his lips. Virgil watched as a small flower bloomed to existence on his knuckle, drawn by Remy.

He flushed slightly. He still wasn’t ready for the full kisses that Janus and Remy often shared, but he was certain that smaller affections like this filled his heart just as full.

Janus released his hand, going back to his work. Virgil took the paper back, continuing his own proofreading of the draft.

••^*^••

Remy often found himself drawing on his skin now. Drawings couldn’t be so easily pointed to different hands, and thus were safe to revel in. Flowers over his knuckles, hearts over his hands, larger more detailed designs covering his arms and legs.

His night shifts at the cafe were never quite so dull anymore, knowing he could send a bit of art to one of his loves. And many times, one of them would show up. With Virgil, it was often for coffee and long talks, like they had before but deeper, more tender. Janus still wanted an alibi half the time he stopped by, but now there were visits where he’d come to make out if the cafe was empty.

When his shift was over he’d head back home. Virgil was coming over in the morning. He often split his time between Remy and Janus’s houses, almost like they had a custody agreement over him.

It was difficult for Remy sometimes, adjusting to a partner who wanted to take things real slow. But Virgil’s softness and cute grumpiness was uniquely special to him, and he looked forward to the day he’d get to kiss him silly.

Despite the rough time that brought them to realize they were soulmates, none of them truly regretted it, though Janus still apologized if one of them brought up the kidnapping.

••^*^••

Janus had never felt so fulfilled.

He’d always believed strongly in the cause, knowing he was a member of the minority he fought for. But it was different somehow, having his soulmates with him.

Remy and Virgil were so similar and yet so different. Both would snark and snipe, especially as Virgil got more comfortable around him. But Virgil had a softness to him where Remy had passion. Remy had initiative where Virgil had caution. Virgil had gentleness where Remy had strength. Both so unique. Both so precious. Both somehow his. And he theirs.

He was reaping the very reward he wished to give to everyone with multiple soulmates. And it was sweet.

Janus subtly shifted position, careful not to wake either of his partners. They’d spent a late night and were now napping, leaving him the most lucky with getting to experience them laying on either side of him.

They’d started with ‘trapping’ him, each laying over one of his arms to prevent him from working, but it had quickly shifted into soft cuddles as they fell asleep. And despite his earlier protests, he didn’t truly mind in the slightest.

He wanted to buy a larger house, or at least a larger bed, as this one only barely contained them if none of them tried to roll over. He didn’t make much money, certainly not legally. So it was a rather futile dream, about as futile as his dream to one day marry them. But a man could dream.

Tagging @snowdice Since I used your Roll the Dice game to start this fic! 🥰

#my own work #sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remy sanders #remus sanders #roll the poll

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