#they're disgustingly sweet

[silverameco]

Locked in a Room - @wolfstarmicrofic - 718 words

"Sirius. Why the hell did the door just disappear ?"

"Hum. That's actually a great question Moonshine."

In an attempt to flee from Filch, Sirius had led them to the Room of Requirement. It looked quite cosy, with a large, plushy couch and a warm fireplace. It would have been perfect if not for the empty wall where the door had been mere seconds before.

Remus sat on the couch with an annoyed huff. Great, now he was even more angry with him.

"Come on, Moons, look at the bright side. It's basically your dream place. There are books, even."

Sirius was rewarded with a blank stare for his efforts. He was starting to feel his nerves get to him.

"Will you at least tell me what I did ? You've been like this for weeks ! Whatever it is, I'll fix it, I promise. I can't bear it when you're angry with me, Moony. Please, I'm dying over here."

He had let himself fall at the other end of the couch at some point during his rant. Remus was looking at him with wide eyes, seemingly surprised. Like he wasn't the one avoiding him all the time.

"It's not- you didn't do anything. I'm not angry with you."

Sirius had the sudden urge to stomp and demand answers like a child. He loved Remus' mysteries, but sometimes it was so frustating.

"Then what ? I know there's something. I know you."

He got closer to Remus, who raised his knees against his chest with his arms wrapped around them, like a barrier. His eyes were frantically searching Sirius' face.

"I can't tell you. You're going to hate me." he hid his face against his knees.

Sirius got close enough to put his hands on Remus' cheeks and raise his head again.

"Yeah, right. Like you thought I was going to hate you when I discovered you were a werewolf or when you told me you were gay. Haven't you learn Moony ? There's nothing that could ever make me hate you."

He hoped his sincerity was clear. Remus was looking at him with his lips slightly parted and his eyes swimming in emotion. His cheeks wore a light pink tint and his skin was so, so soft under his fingers. Before Sirius could register it happening, he was so close he could count the other's freckles, their foreheads touching.

It seemed only right than the next thing he did was pressing his lips against Remus'. He didn't think about it long enough to convince himself it was a bad idea. He just did it, like it was the only thing that had to be done. When Remus kissed him back, slow and soft, Sirius was pretty sure it was.

It didn't last nearly long enough. When they parted, Remus quickly moved to sit normally on the couch, bringing Sirius with him so he could straddle his lap. Sirius blinked and looked at him with a lopsided smile.

"What is it then ?"

"I love you." he whispered.

Sirius brought his arms around his neck and pressed his smile against his ear.

"I love you too."

They kissed for a long time after this. What started soft and sweet quickly turned hungry and passionate. Sirius was in heaven. He could feel Remus' warmth everywhere. He wanted to stay there forever. How convenient that they couldn't leave anyway.

"Hum, Sirius ?" Remus left his mouth to kiss his neck. "The door is back."

"Oh. But we don't have to leave right now, do we ?" he asked with a wicked smile.

"I suppose we don't." he answered, bringing his lips back to his neck.

When they finally got out, after what felt simultaneously like two decades and two minutes - even though Sirius knew it was probably two hours - Remus asked him what he thought about when he led them to the Room.

"Just that I needed somewhere to talk to you. Not my fault the Room thinks the only way for you to stop being stubborn is to lock you somewhere." he said with a proud smile.

[leschanceux]

Alex is still very much of the mindset that everything is a test he needs to ace - that he can ace, if he just puts in the most amount of time and research possible, and oh, baby, has he put in time to research tea steeping times. He knows the exact timings of the various types of tea, knows what goes with milk and what doesn't. He knows so much about tea, all because he loves Henry.

"Chocolate and tea, baby?" Alex grimaces, "Oreos and milk are a staple of many American households, and that's because cookies and milk - and cocoa and milk - actually go together, unlike chocolate and tea!" And to think, people internationally are often disturbed or disgusted by American food customs when apparently the British are out here dunking chocolate cookies into their tea!

Well done, love. Alex immediately perks up at the praise, basking in the warmth of a job well done for a good moment. "It's good?" he checks, sounding pleased as Henry presses their hips together. The feeling of fingers under his shirt makes him hum, his own hands linking behind Henry's back to keep the prince close. "Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you? A proper Brit."

           Henry accepts the proffered mug of tea with a gracious tip of his chin, careful to hide any amusement over how clearly Alex is stressing about proper steep times. Truth is, this tea could be so dense one might stand a spoon up in it (proper bricklayer's tea, that) and Hen would still drink it without complaint. All because the man he loves made it for him.

         "Where's the fun in not dunking a biscuit?" The Prince asks innocently, lifting the mug to his lips, "-- aren't you Americans supposed to be obsessed with Oreos and tall glasses of 2% milk? That's like the quintessential propaganda on Dunking™" Not that Henry has a leg to stand on in this battle of wits: he's guilty himself of having Halloween Limited Edition Oreos flown in from Virginia. (A secret no one but Bea knows).

           Then the taste of the tea hits his tongue... at first milky, then stronger as Hen takes a full sip. It is... perfectly serviceable tea. The Prince's eyes crinkle in soft approval over the rim of his mug. "....Well done, love." He says fondly, leaning closer until their hips are pressed alongside one another against the kitchen island, the hand that has never left Alex's side curling to slip his fingers beneath the hem of other man's Henley. "...we'll make a proper Brit of you yet..."

[veinsfullofstars]

“Quit laughin’, ya bastard, I’m dyin’ over here! Get me some starsdamn milk, for cryin’ out loud!”

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Dark Meta Knight and Daroach, in which lunch is interrupted by a disagreement on spicy food and some improper use of the Sharing mechanic. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

Based on a personal headcanon that DMK enjoys spicy food and Daroach vehemently does not.

Started 04/06/24, finished and updated 04/09/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24.

---

Transcript:

Panel 1

*DMK and DR sitting side-by-side enjoying some lunch together - a sandwich for the thief, a plate of spicy curry for the knight. DMK (his mask pushed up to the side of his head, bits of curry stuck to his face) idly eats his meal with a fork as DR picks up and scrutinizes a small bottle of hot sauce the knight had set aside, a brow raised in disappointment.*

DR: “Ultra spicy,” huh? Blech. How can you stand this stuff, Dark? Like, can you even taste anythin’ anymore? (Besides pain?)

Panel 2

DMK: Aw, c’mon, it’s not that bad. Here, want a bite~?

*setting his fork upright in the curry, DMK pushes his plate aside and turns towards DR with the most mischievous expression, reaching up to grab the collar of his cape. DR turns his head sharply, dropping the bottle and the sandwich, as the knight starts tugging him towards him.*

DR: What’re you-? Hey! No! No! Don’t you friggin’ dare, Dark, I swear to Nova-

Panel 3

*DMK stands up and yanks DR down towards his face, a hand clasped on the back of the thief’s head to hold him there. DR flinches (VFX: two large exclamation points), knocked off his feet and holding his paws out in surprise. A wisp of steam rises from between them, curling into a little pink heart at the top. Text reading “*Face-to-Face SFX*” hovers behind DMK.*

Panel 4

*DR jerks away from DMK, red-faced and doubled over in pain, his eyes squeezed shut and his tongue hanging out with a fresh red burn on the end, steam emitting from his face in puffs. He frantically fans at his mouth with one paw while shoving DMK away with the other.*

DR: (breaking the dialogue bubble in places) AAGH!! Ow! Star-burnin’ son-of-the-void what is wrong with you piece a’- aaaughh dammit stars dammit ow ow ow ow!!

*DMK cackles, leaning away with one arm held up against the rat’s pushing paw, one eye shut and mouth stretched open in a wide smile, a single incisor prominent within and a touch of blush at the corner. Text reading “HA HA HA HA HA HA HA” hovers behind him surrounded by laugh lines.*

[evilfloralfoolery]

Aftermath

Just the cuddly morning aftermath of Grimm's terrible cold/flu after his little exotic dancer mission lol.

Gods, Indigo can't stand himself. Grimm is also a bastard.

________________________

Morning is a dreary affair, a weak sliver of grayed daylight peeking from between the heavy curtains.  Even without rising, Indigo can hear the rain/sleet combination pelting the windows, the whistle of the wind a sonorous continuum in counterpoint with the weather. 

Autumn has begun its descent into winter and Indigo has no complaints.  Much like his mother’s side of the family, he not only enjoys the cold, but thrives in it. 

Grimm, of course, is another story.

Beside him, Grimm stirs and Indigo feigns a peaceful state of slumber. 

For a moment. 

Arms slide around his body, inviting him into an embrace, which is well received. Indigo curls against his chest, one hand upon the warmth of Grimm's naked skin peeking from the V in his nightshirt.

“Mornin’.” Grimm's voice is thick with sleep and congestion, dark and rumbling, like living thunder.

“Good morning,” Indigo says in return. He reaches to run his fingers through the tousled mess of Grimm’s hair.  “How are you feeling?”

“Like ass.”  Grimm muffles a cough into one hand and clears his throat.  “But I’ve had worse.” 

While that may be true, Indigo finds himself impossibly undone by his partner’s admission of vulnerability, small as it may be.  Especially in conjunction with his more than apparent symptoms.  

“I shall make you some tea shortly,” Indigo says. 

“Mmmn, I don’t want tea yet.”  Grimm runs a hand down Indigo’s back and back up again, rubbing the space between his shoulder blades in an absent, complacent manner.  “I want you to keep pettin’ me.” 

Indigo chuckles. “I suppose I can manage that.” 

He shifts higher onto his pillow so that their positions are exchanged and it is now Grimm with his head resting upon Indigo’s chest. Gentle fingers sift through the fine silk of his locks, pausing to unravel the occasional snarl.

Grimm purrs like a contented panther.

For a moment. 

While he is well aware of Grimm’s notorious morning “issues,” it is still, nonetheless, a pulse-speeding event when Grimm’s breath hastens into a sudden, almost gasping hitch. 

“Huuh–huuuuhhiiih!  HhkgUSSCCHHu! –GKSSSCHHssh!”  

“Mmn, sorry,”  Grimm sniffles thickly and Indigo lets out a breath he didn't realize he held within himself so tightly.

“Bless you,” Indigo says. He tucks a handkerchief between Grimm’s fingers.  “And you are most certainly not sorry.”

Grimm chuckles.  “Damn right, I’m not.”

Long moments pass and Indigo has just begun to drift off once more when the slight catch of Grimm's breath alerts him to inevitable. The man is obviously trying to suppress things, including his overly sensitive buildup beforehand.

Indigo's breathing slows, but he does not move, instead presenting the façade of sleep.

Grimm shifts and Indigo cracks his eyelids to the slightest sliver of openness. The other man presses a hand beneath his nose with a flinch of shoulders, barely suppressing a desperate “--Nh’GGKT-shhuh!”  

Gods, he is a positively horrific stifler at times, barely managing to suppress anything at all. 

Which makes Indigo's toes curl in his socks. 

Honestly.

“Bless you,” Indigo says, unable to keep that obnoxious emphasis from the sentiment.

“Thanks,” Grimm says with something between a sigh and sniffle. 

He rolls into his side to face Indigo and even in the dimly lit room, that saucy smile is evident. “Damn, that fucks you up, huh.” 

Indigo rolls his eyes. “Haven't you tired of provoking me?” 

Grimm's smile widens. “Not enough to stop making you wanna fuck me.” 

 And Grimm being Grimm, he must obviously prove this point beyond a reasonable doubt. Fingers cinch into his pajama top as Grimm struggles with a drastically desperate breath.  “--nhhHGGXT-shhuh!” 

Indigo smirks. “Gods, Grimm. Either silence yourself or sneeze properly.”

“Smartasshhhuh! UhhhgSSCHHu! –RIISSSSHHiiiuh! Goddahhhuh-huuuh!”  

Indigo tenses, the fingers upon Grimm's arm curling into themselves in anticipation.

Grimm’s expression wavers into an urgent breakdown . . . and he pinches Indigo's thigh. “Sike.” 

“Oh, you great bastard!” Indigo slaps his shoulder as Grimm finds merciless amusement in his frustration.

“Goddamn, Indy, you're too fucking easy!” Grimm laughs with a deep, rough sound.  “And look at you. Slapping my sick ass around. You should be ashamed of yourself.” 

Indigo feigns complete and total indignation, but not before reaching around to properly deliver a well-placed open handed smack to Grimm's actual backside. “There. I have now officially slapped your sick ass.” 

Grimm would have certainly guffawed, had it not been for the threat of a fit of coughing. Instead, he cocks an eyebrow, expression flattening to something deadpan and serious. “I'm calling the police.” 

“You are the police!” 

“Retired.” Grimm’s smile curves into something nefarious. “Now, smack my ass like I'm your bitch.” 

Indigo cannot help himself. Even his attempt at muffling a laugh into a palm results in complete and total failure.

“Honestly.” He brushes aside a lock of Grimm's sleep-tousled hair. “I will do no such thing.” Fingers tighten in those silken locks and he gives it a sharp, jerking tug that snaps Grimm's head to one side. “But I will do this.” 

“Mmmn, yeah. I bet you will.” Grimm's lips part with sinful decadence, beckoning a kiss from his partner. 

He slides his free palm over Grimm’s cheek and rests it there.  The man is too stunning for words with his ever-darkening stubble and features that appear as if they were carved by the masterful hands of the gods.  

“I love you, Grimm,” he says, voice a low whisper of sound.

Grimm’s mischievous gaze softens and he turns his face into Indigo's hand, kissing his palm with a brief press of lips before pulling him closer. 

The way Grimm begins a kiss is nearly always a sensual affair, a gentle sort of tease, the promise of something deeper and thorough implicated by his touch.

“I love you, too, Indy.” 

Within the confines of his chest, Indigo's heart trips over its own beat. 

“Kiss me,” Grimm murmurs against his mouth.

And so he does. Indigo feels as if his soul is suffused in flames. No one should have the audacity to kiss this well.

Grimm’s fingers splay across his back, drawing him closer still and Indigo cannot suppress the soft moan that escapes him.

“You had best stop before you create something you are unable to finish.” Indigo's words are breathless and heady with desire.

Grimm pins him to the mattress with his superior weight, hair curtaining his face. “Who says I'm not gonna finish?”

[starmocha]

An art piece is only priceless to those who appreciate it for what it is at its core. Aaand you're giving me the shells we picked up during our daily walks. They've been with us through every sunset when the waves touched our feet, and when the breeze danced around us. Some even witnessed the moments we treasure the most. So of course I should give you a painting that is on par with their worth.

— Rafayel, Priceless Treasure

[arkhammaid]

Pookie 2 cause Olibear (get it?.. oliver and bear) anyways, they'll be so cute. Pookie x Pookie and honestly even though Carlos is a gentleman I can see him bringing little stark down cause the media is constantly talking about her and their family unlike before it was the sainz and SAINZ ONLY. He'll talk bad things about little stark but then like Carlos Sr is going like "we can't fight them they have more power" resulting to Carlos being more mad iyk. Then, we have olliee the pookiest of all pookie..he's so cute, protective but not possessive, will definitely brag to his friends that the girl she's dating is out of his league but chose him anyways. When little stark wins the race he has that little smug on his face like "yes, that's my girl no one else's". Even before they dated he's talking about her constantly so when news came out that they were seen together people just assume they're the best of friends and stuff. because of this Ollie is sulking cause everyone thinks he's just friendzoned and no one actually has faith in him that he can bag a girl like little stark

smitten in love Ollie x shining little stark

-🧸❤️

referring to this post

OLIBEAR!!!! OLIBEAR YES YES YES (this is now little stark's pet name for him, thank you sm anon) also welcome hehe, i assume you'll be the 🧸❤️ anon?

pookie x pookie fr, because they're each other hype(wo)men, they're so down for each other it's almost disgusting but it's just cute

also carlos. carlos has an ego and unlike ollie, he will not admit defeat or that someone is better than him who he thought previously is worse (not that ollie would ever think that but you get what i mean) i just know he gets the scolding of the century from his father because he can't help but talk shit about little stark

ALSO YES!! ollie would brag about little stark sm!! to his friends, his family, his team, ANYONE! it's always "my gf this, my gf that" and there are two reactions: 1. they think ollie is the biggest simp, 2. they think his gf is imaginary because he never told anyone WHO exactly his gf is

in an interview he gets asked how he will celebrate his podium and with the biggest grin and without shame he will say "with my gf" thinking innocenct thoughts like eating out with their families, cuddling to sleep and just enjoying their time. WHILE everyone else just goes "HUH?? DID HE JUST SAY THAT" because they all assume little innocent ollie bearman is doing the deed with his infamous gf

little stark gets asked for a comment and she will fluel the rumors abt them being best friends with a blinding smile and "i really hope he enjoys his time with his gf, very happy for him and his partner"

just you wait until it finally gets revealed that it's little stark

smitten in love ollie x shining little stark.... so beautiful. so so beautiful

[reikunrei]

sorry for being obsessed with scott and henry fucking each other, it will happen again❤️

[arainesque]

IM WORKING ON SUB-GEORGE and it's so important to me that it feels natural? and it's so hard?

[threadsun]

Jack has a tiny little bear tail and he's embarrassed about it so he hides it. Rory loves his tail for him :)

Tiny lil tail that's so cute!!! Just a lil puffball!!!

[selfsabotaqe]

giving good $$$ to someone who’ll give me a plot for  my muse devrim  where he meets someone in an online game and it’s a slow burn romance. playing together every single day and lingering together on voice chats for hours and hours into the night. them blatantly flirting with him over the internet and guessing how he must look all flustered, or how red his cheeks are getting. maybe they’re a fellow streamer but they don’t know about each other? maybe they’re a casual gamer who doesn’t know he streams? maybe they’re one of his viewers and they don’t know each other personally, but they keep popping into his twitch chat and sending messages that make it hard for him to keep a straight face? and then just from there cue the constant thinking about them and eventually meeting up and falling in love and the potential long distance romance and building from there. there’s tons of added drama  &  cuteness we can add depending on where we want things to go, we can discuss ideas together. i’d love to write out both maybe voice calls, chat messages as well as paras and irl threads? open to mostly anything including drama, fluff, angst and most of everything else, sm*t is optional but only if we’re both really comfortable with each other and only on discord. im open to any gender but would really prefer  mlm  and am open to writing on  tumblr and/or discord,  depending on what you prefer. give a  like  to this post if you’re interested  &  i’ll come find you  💞🥰

[xneens]

not his girlfriend

you’re not his girlfriend, but …

You're not his girlfriend, but you're the first person to listen to his ramblings. The first time he realizes, he notices he's been talking for too long without taking a breath, and you're still paying attention to what he's saying. Microbiology. You know nothing about the subject, asking him to clarify stuff while he talks. He's surprised because everyone always stops him.

You're not his girlfriend, but he knows your coffee orders. They're all disgustingly sweet, as the teams point out, but he knows what to get depending on the day. No matter how urgent the briefing is, he goes out of his way to stop at your favorite coffee shop. Every day, you're greeted with a fresh cup of coffee and a smile.

You're not his girlfriend, but he comforts you after emotionally hard cases. You often find yourself in his arms after wrapping up the cases, resting your head against his chest, allowing him to stroke your hair. He'll spend the flight next to you, his pinky resting on your arm as a way to ground you without the rest of the team exchanging glances.

You're not his girlfriend, but you don't leave his side when he gets shot on the field. You hold his hand as the paramedics carry him in the ambulance, and you only let go when they take him into surgery. He wakes with you by his side, his fingers immediately intertwining with yours before he's even fully awake. You smile and tell him he's an idiot for taking that bullet for you. He replies back with a smile and a, "Better for me to be injured than you."

You're not his girlfriend, but he makes sure you're paired up on cases. He goes to shooting practices to prove to Hotch he can be on the field with you, to prove that he can protect you. He does the stuff you don't want to, mostly readings you don't want to spend hours on or bagging up a used condom from the toilet.

You're not his girlfriend, but you go to every nerdy event with him. Whether it's a Spock convention or some nature documentary showing, you're there by his side. No longer does he find the seats next to him empty. Instead, when he looks over, he sees you and smiles, because now he's not alone.

You're not his girlfriend, but his mom thinks you are. When you spend a few days in Las Vegas for a case, you visit his mom with him, meeting her for the first time. She greets you, smiling coyly at her son, asking you if you like dating her son. He spends the next few minutes trying to convince her you're just friends. And the rest of the month trying to convince himself.

You're not his girlfriend, but he kills the man holding you hostage. He's the first to notice you gone, and he's the first to burst through the door, gun out. He doesn't bother talking to the unsub, doesn't bother descaling the situation, doesn't bother to wait for the rest of the team to enter before delivering a bullet through the man's head. He doesn't bother stepping over the body before he unties you and takes you in his arms.

You're not his girlfriend, but he covers you with a blanket when you fall asleep. He turns the TV off, placing a pillow under your head softly, making sure you don't wake up with a sore neck. He strokes your cheek with the back of his hand, longing in his eyes as he watches you breathe.

You're not his girlfriend, but he wishes you were.

[yourfourthparent]

OUGH were you foolin is suuuuuuch a trason song to me OGUGJUGUGJG

[loves4ge]

celebrity!au cw: swearing, gojo is disgustingly in love

gojo satoru is thoroughly and utterly fucked. there are only ten minutes left until he has to go live for an interview—promotional material for his new movie. the only problem is you, his sweet costar; you had him wrapped around your finger.

despite being each other's on-screen love interests, your schedules hadn't matched until now to do an interview together. and gojo fucking satoru, one of the biggest celebrities to ever set foot in the hall of fame, is nervous. because he knows when gets out there, you'll be waiting for him. you've always been early to places (not really, he's just late).

it's not just the thought of you that has his stomach twisting in knots, it's his obsessive—and frankly, scary—fangirls who hang onto his every look, every glance, every word. even if no one finds out about his itsy bitsy crush, they will. and they will ruin you.

and he can't do that to you! this is your big break after slaving away in minor roles with a no-name cast. you're in the spotlight too much after only have seen the light being shone on other people, there's already too much pressure on you. the sudden onslaught of fans can be overwhelming, but the critics? they're so much harsher than what you expected.

"gojo, get out." it's his manager. deep breaths, he advises himself as he lifts out of the chair and to the set. where you are. god.

"so, i hear the set can get pretty crazy?" the interviewer smiles as he says it. he has that mall santa vibe; a little bit jolly and just slightly discomfort inducing.

your laugh slips out and gojo swears he almost died there. but he makes a conscious effort to not look at your lips. he sneaks a glance anyway.

"that's right! you should see the mess this man makes," you say, nodding your head towards the white-blond man. he should've worn his sunglasses, at least that way he could've stared at you in peace.

"hey! i'm not at fault here," gojo defends himself, guffawed. he crosses his arms as if he was trying to protect his chastity. or defend his honor, i suppose.

"mm, that's what they all say." your playful tone has him weak in the knees and he's thanking the gods that he's sitting down otherwise he would've folded right then and there.

"so geto suguru was here earlier and he mentioned that there was some steam in the movie, eh?"

stay professional, stay professional, stay professional.

"oh yeah. there are a couple of scenes for sure. it wouldn't have turned out as well as they did if it wasn't for satoru. i've never done an intimate scene before and he was just so comforting and really, a strong source of support for me."

fuck.

gojo breaks into a grin, his hand platonically (he hopes) pats your shoulder.

"it actually wouldn't have gone so well if it wasn't for our earth shattering chemistry. and our intimacy coordinator. yep, you heard it here first guys. bridgerton isn't the only show that gets one!" he's not entirely sure if the comedic route was the one to take after your heartfelt confession but he can't seem to respond as sincerely as he wants on television.

your giggle makes up for it though. and the light slap against his thigh. god. he has to resist the urge to ask you to do it again.

---

10 MINUTE COMPILATION OF GOJO BEING DOWN BAD FOR HIS COSTAR (ft. geto)

[moonstruckme]

Hey !

So I've just come out of a week with an absolutely awful cold where I lost my voice and it was absolutely exhausting.

So, if you'd like I wanted to request a poly!marauders x sick reader with fluff and coddling when reader lost her voice and they're being overprotective and soft . Maybe emt!marauders? As you'd like ✨️

Thank you 💕 🌸

Ugh hope you feel better soon my love <3

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 915 words

Sirius’ thumb draws circles into the fat of your hip, your head heavy against his chest. You’re letting your cheek smush against the material of his shirt, your entire body lax with lethargy. You really feel mostly fine, but it’s difficult not to indulge in some self-pity when your boyfriends are treating you so tenderly. 

“Are you tired, love?” Remus’ voice is low and dulcet, his eyes honey-colored in the afternoon light spilling through the window as he watches you from his chair. 

“No,” you rasp. His eyebrows stitch together compassionately. “Just comfortable.” 

You can very nearly feel the smugness emanating from Sirius at that. He kisses the top of your head, and Remus rolls his eyes at whatever face he’s made that you can’t see. 

“Do you want to try to gargle some saltwater before you have your tea?” Remus asks. 

You sigh, sinking further into Sirius’ side. “Maybe later.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, please stop.” James hisses through his teeth as he carries in a steaming cup of tea. “It hurts me when you talk, you sound so awful.” 

You shoot him a wry look—thanks—and Sirius grins. 

“I think you sound dead sexy,” he whispers conspiratorially. 

You laugh, and even that sounds warped and awful. “Yeah?” you say, reaching up for the tea as James passes it to you. Your voice squeaks, cracking horrifically. “Just like this?” 

“Prick.” James sits down beside you on the couch, kicking halfheartedly at Sirius’ leg. “Don’t encourage her.” 

You have to quell your giggling before you trust yourself to take a sip of your tea. It’s so sweet you think it might be half honey, not that you’re complaining; the effect is immediate relief for your raw throat. Remus unpauses the film you were watching, and James pulls one of your feet into his lap, massaging it like a stress ball through the material of your fuzzy sock. Sirius is still drawing heavy circles into your hip, and despite your claims of alertness, you’re well on your way to actually falling asleep when you notice Remus has turned subtly away from the TV and appears to be scrutinizing you. 

“What?” you ask. 

“Sweetheart,” James begs, his fingers tensing around your foot, “please.” 

“You really won’t let me check your throat for strep?” Remus asks. 

For James’ sake, you confine your response to a shake of your head. 

“Why not?” he presses, fully turning his back on the film. “If it was strep, we could get you some medicine. I don’t like seeing you sick, dove.” 

You send him a sorry little smile, but your answer hasn’t changed. 

“Why don’t you let him just have a look?” James coaxes. Sirius’ free hand comes up, laying flat over your forehead as he checks again for a fever. 

“Because it’s gross,” you say. James winces but doesn’t complain. “And because I think my breath must be awful. It’s only been a couple of days anyway.” 

“It could be a lot longer if it is strep throat and you don’t treat it,” Remus points out.

James leans closer to you, beckoning. “Give me a breath, and I’ll let you know if it’s horrid.” 

“No!” you lean away from him, laughing. 

“Why not?” 

“Bec—” Sirius takes the opportunity to get his index finger in your mouth, wedging it between your teeth. 

“Sirius!” you squeak, all the s’s of his name reduced to vague shushing sounds. “What are you doing?” 

James and Remus snicker at your lisping, but Sirius is the picture of cool composure, watching you steadily as you wrap your hand around his wrist. You give a tug, but he curls his finger around the inside of your bottom teeth and holds fast. 

“I could sit like this all day,” he says, disgustingly proud of himself, “or you could let Remus check your throat for pesky little spots.” 

You stare him down. The problem with Sirius is, he stares right back, and it’s difficult to feel very intimidating when you’ve got his finger sticking out of your mouth. He drops one eyelid in a wink. You’re loath to give into his smugness, but after a few seconds you roll your eyes.

James takes your tea from you as Remus comes forward, getting out his phone light and stooping over you, and you allow Sirius to tip your mouth open. 

“Ugh, rank!” he jokes, immune to the glare you send his way. Remus ignores you both, steadying himself with a hand at your jaw as he peers inside your mouth. 

“Stick your tongue out, dove?” he requests, and you do, heat creeping up your neck. James squeezes your foot sympathetically. 

“I think,” Remus says softly, brows furrowing as he looks a moment longer, “you’re in the clear.” 

You let out a little cough, curling towards your chest as he steps away and James and Sirius cheer. 

“Told you,” you can’t help but say, voice scraping. 

“You were right, angel,” James indulges you, squeezing up the length of your calf. “So what does this mean?” 

Remus shrugs. “That it’s probably not strep throat. Could be anything else, we likely won’t know unless it gets worse.” 

“Steady diet of tea and honey?” Sirius asks gravely. 

“Certainly,” James answers in the same serious tone. “And rest. Lots of rest. Probably shouldn’t move on her own.” 

“So, business as usual,” you joke. Remus chuckles as Sirius stamps a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Smart girl,” he praises. “Glad the fever’s not gone to your head yet.” 

[stardustsymphony]

scar-mates || mattheo riddle

warning: smoking, burning.

a/n: i'm supposed to be studying for the exam i have in four hours and i have my book open in front of me but haven't even started studying yet so i hope y'all appreciate this cause i quite literally risked my future to write this. and please tell me y'all know that ‘sprinkle ✨ sprinkle ✨’ girl from instagram who makes reels about dark romance books mostly and she usually wears that soft, oversized pink blanket-like hoodie (or was it something else?). this one shot is inspired by one of her reel about a dark-romance book, i forgot the name.

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧ ♕♛♕ ✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ: :･ﾟ✧:･ﾟ✧

“You’re like a drug.” Mattheo said, playing with your fingers. His brown eyes flickered to lock with yours, a mischievous glint in them that made your heart do flips. 

“Drugs are dangerous.”

“So are you.” 

The soft melody of rain echoed in the room, the distant sound of thunder adding in to the comfort. You snuggled close to Mattheo as a shiver ran down your spine because of the chilly room. Noticing this, he pulled you closer, your head against his chest and his heartbeat under your ear making you relax into his arms each passing second. 

“Stop snuggling so much to me,” he said –but his voice was filled with playful sarcasm. He pulled up the thick blanket all the way up to your shoulder, pressing his lips against the crown of your head. 

You lazily smiled up at him. “Stop being so warm then.” 

“I prefer the term ‘hot’, darling.” he winked at you. 

You rolled your eyes, a slight smile on your lips, as he took out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, lighting it. 

“You're smoking here?” you asked, he hardly ever smokes in front of you, let alone when both are cuddling. 

“Can't leave my girl alone to shiver, now, can I?” 

Your stomach flutters at his words –‘my girl’. Oh, how you loved whenever he said stuff like that, and he was well aware of the effect his words have on you, judging by his smirk hidden behind his cigarette. 

A comforting silence washed over you both as you both occasionally mumbled sweet nothings to each other, softly kissing each other between whispered words and giggles. 

It was moments like this that made you forget about everything, all the rumours that surrounded him, the different ways people had said he would break your heart. You never doubted your love for him for even a second, but there was still some time when you wondered if the rumours that surrounded him were true. 

Your relationship was not perfect, of course, it was filled with ups and downs. You never appreciated those ‘downs’, but your sister had always told you that ‘downs’ in a relationship was just as important as ‘ups’. She said she always reminds herself of this whenever she and her boyfriend go through a rocky phase, and next month, they will be getting married. 

“What are you thinking about?” Mattheo inhaled some smoke, kept it in his mouth, then exhaled it in rings. 

“My sister and her boyfriend.”

“They're getting married next month, no?” 

“Yeah,” you looked at him and brushed some of his hair from his forehead. “You've invited, by the way.” 

“I would have crashed the wedding if you hadn't invited me.” 

You snorted. “Of course you would've.” 

There was a moment of silence, then he asked. “What's he like? Your sister's boyfriend, I mean.” 

“He's nice, he used to buy me toys when I was young and sneak me out for lunch whenever I used to feel sad.” You smiled as you remember the time with your sister's boyfriend, Mick. He truly was like an older brother to you. 

“How did they meet?” 

“They're high school sweethearts.”

Mattheo gave you a slightly surprised glance. “That young, huh? You like talking about them, no?” He added when he saw your expression. 

“I can't help it,” you shrugged. “They're just so disgustingly in love, it's so sweet. Mick used to tell me he knew my sister was the one the moment they both met, like love at first sight. My sister tells me they both are scar-mates.” 

“Scar-mates?” Mattheo asked. “What's that?” 

“When my sister was young, she fell from the stairs and got a scar on her elbow. Mick has a scar on his elbow too, she used to tell me that if you have a scar somewhere, your soulmate would have one in the exact same place as well. She used to call them scar-mates.” 

“That's…dumb. And sweet.” He added hastily when he saw your expression flicker. “But you don't believe that, do you?” 

“I do, actually,” you said awkwardly, grinning a bit. “I've been hearing it since I was a child, so it's hard not to.” 

He gave you a look that looked like a mix of amusement and sarcasm. 

“In fact,” you continued, pushing down the shoulder of your sweatshirt and tilting your head to show him your collarbone. “I do have one scar here. It's when I fell from the swings in the backyard.” 

His eyes fell down at your collarbone, taking in the age old scar there. His fingers lightly brushed against it and you shivered. Then, as if you couldn't help yourself, you asked,

“Do you have any scars?” 

Mattheo didn't answer immediately, just brushed his fingers against your scar once more. Just when you thought he wouldn't answer at all, he sat straight and opened his shirt. 

It took all your willpower not to shamelessly stare at him. 

“Yeah, I do actually.” he said, taking his second cigarette out of his mouth and exhaling slowly, keeping his eyes on your face. And before you could react or ask him anything, he twisted his cigarette around and pressed it against his own collarbone, on the exact same spot where you had your scar. 

You gasped, horrified, and pulled his hand away and threw away his cigarette, not caring where it landed in the room. 

“What are you doing?!” you shrieked. 

Mattheo’s eyes never left your face, his expression not giving away anything as he held your chin gently, tilting your head to make you look at him.

“Scar-mates.” he said softly before leaning down to press his lips against the scar on your collarbone.

[majinbangus]

this is disgustingly sweet

"You made me pretty."

You knew Soap was talented, but this is the first time he's showing you a picture he drew of you. It's a surprise; you didn't think you'd ever have a place in his journal.

"No, I didn't," He says, making a noise of disagreement, and you switch your gaze from the picture to see him giving you an affectionate look. It makes your breath catch. You've only seen him give that look to people he's been in love with. "You're already pretty."

"John..."

"Was just drawing what I see, bonnie."

You can tell he's being earnest. Something in your chest aches. You look back down at the worn journal in your hands, taking in the drawing. He actually colored and shaded it, a stark contrast to his usual sketches. Soap rarely takes the time to do that.

"I don't know what to say," you respond lamely, unable to bring yourself to look back at him. You trace the drawing with a thumb. "This is..."

Calloused hands come into view, and you can't react as he gently cups your cheeks, tilting your head back to look at him again. Soap chuckles softly at your dumbstruck face, mouth slightly agape.

Leaning in, he swipes his thumb across your bottom lip. He feels so warm. Soap glances down at your lips before looking up at your eyes again. He speaks, and his breath puffs against yours, "Don't have to say anything, bon; could give me a little kiss instead?"

"A kiss..?" You steal a glance at his lips. They're curved in an impish smile.

"Aye, just a little one and only if you want." He lowers his voices, and your pupils dilate in response. "But I'd be a really happy man if you did."

Your voice cracks. "What if I want more?"

It's a really simple answer, one Soap exclusively knows, but you get it when he closes his eyes and brushes his lips against yours, murmuring, "Then I'll give you more."

More... You like the sound of that.

-

UGH 🤮