#this is the unofficial kissing corner

[pumkinbones]

Some boys having a tender moment <3

As always Ran belongs to @discountdps

[mountedeverest]

manifesting a mazzy star song during the madney wedding so we can see all the couples being soft

[utterlyotterlyx]

In Another Life

Azriel x F!Reader

Summary - Once upon a time, a certain Shadowsinger found his mate in the right person but the worst time.

Warnings - a pure fluff fest, a little bit of angst, fated mates, descriptions of loss and grief, mentions of death

Note - This is my first fic back after a bit of a hiatus so be nice please haha, I'm getting back into the groove x

"Avoir elle est avoir les etoiles."

Azriel's shadows and ears alike perked upward at the familiar yet foreign tongue that had drifted through the room, finding him where he stood in a far corner, away from anyone who may be wanting to keep an eye on him.

Balls had never been something he was keen on, always attempting to find an excuse to be elsewhere whether it be a mission or some pitiful plead to stay home.

But his ire didn't quite meet him in the instances where he knew that his mate would be present. His perfect, beautiful, untamed mate.

To have her is to have the stars.

Eris' wickedly devious drawl played in his mind. The newly appointed High Lord of Autumn had always had an affinity for you despite you only finding your feet upon Prythian once a year. Eris didn't seem to care that you had a mate, albeit, a mutually yet unofficially rejected one, and seemed to believe that he would be able to turn your head quite easily.

The Nether was the place you had called home after the rejection of something you had begged the mother for your entire life. Azriel wasn't sure how it had happened, not only how you had become a stranger to him so quickly, but how exactly you had ripped open the fabric of time and space with anguish once your brother had died in your arms; creating another world that lived only thanks to your lifeforce, a place where those you had lost remained, a place you had followed them to.

Each year, you would store enough energy away to keep that pocket world safe for a few hours just so that you could return to the surface.

Azriel counted down the days until he would be able to lay his eyes on you again. Prythian was also used to holding a collective breath, feeling the power of you coil around them, turning the air electric just as it would go before a thunderstorm ravaged the skies.

Then you were there.

As ethereal as always, dressed in the finest of silks that coursed from your breasts to your feet, the fabric washing over each curve on the way down. Sleeves fell lax from your shoulders, and you hair was as it always had been, loosely curled and flowing down your spine.

It was Amren who had gone to you first, she always had; the two of you had been close friends when you had called Prythian your home. With a genteel grin, you swept the firedrake into your arms, your soft giggles becoming the sonnet to Azriel's dreams as he watched your lips tilt upward and body relax as you welcomed more into your embrace.

Accepting the bond hadn't been an option once Fin had passed, you had ripped open that world so fast and knew that Fin, and whoever else now lay in there, wouldn't survive another lifetime without you. Azriel had understood. He had walked you to that rippling portal edge and left you there with his kiss indented into the back of your hand, with perhaps a small promise that one day you'd both have what you truly wanted.

Before that, Azriel had doted on you whole-heartedly. Thanks to Mor and Amren he knew all the things that you deeply and secretly adored, most of them he already knew from making it his mission to know you from the inside out, but he appreciated the tips nonetheless. Azriel courted you like a true gentleman, holding doors open and bringing you so many bunches of flowers that you had run out of vases to put them in, which only meant that he had to go and buy you more.

Azriel knew that you had a guilty pleasure for red velvet cake, so he made sure that every week he would collect two small cupcakes to sit at the Sidra edge to eat with you. Books held a special place in your heart, so he ensured that he would fine every new published book before you could and add it to your impressive collection. He knew the exact place that you liked to be kissed, at the corner of your mouth between your lips and dimple; and where you liked to be touched, that being on your elbow or the small of your back.

He didn't like to admit it, and he never did easily, but the day you left him had been the worst day of his life. A period had gone by where he refused to leave his room because he sheets still held your scent, of morning mountain rain and fresh springs; he also refused to eat for awhile, not being able to stomach it thanks to the bond coiling in terror inside of his soul.

Life without you was dim, but he kept it together each year for you, just so that you didn't worry, just so that you never felt bad for choosing to spend whatever time you could with the brother you loved so much.

From what he knew, The Nether was a dark and cold place, born from the despair inside of you from the moment you had lost Fin. The world you had created represented your anger and sadness. You had told him one year that it rained a lot, and that the palace where you lived was broken in so many ways, just like you. Azriel could tell that it was a dreary place because you seemed to get more pale each time he saw you.

He had always believed that you were brought into the world to make the sun cry with jealousy, and he had told you as such one more than one occasion.

Once you had done the round with your once shared family, letting go of Rhys and Feyre with a small pinch on the formers cheek, your eyes found him in his usual corner, like they knew exactly where to drift to next, and his soul set alight by the glimmer of adoration he found laced within them.

It only took you a moment to excuse yourself from Rhys and cross the amber lit ballroom to stand before him, peering upward through those lusciously thick lashes that he used to run his fingers over. After a longing sweep over his face, you smiled, "Hello, Az."

Mother above.

Even your voice was enough to make his knees tremble, so siren-like, it was as warm as embers and as sweet as honey, but sultry in ways that Azriel had never seen in anyone else.

"Hello Poet," he smirked at your rolling eyes and the slight huff that fell from your lips. You had always hated the little nickname, but didn't mind it so much when it came from him.

One of the things he was most thankful for was the way nothing ever changed between you; you both knew how much you loved one another, and how long you'd both happily wait until the time was right.

The way the lights of the Autumn Court ballroom caressed your skin was mesmerising, it made you almost glow in the cream dress that you adorned, a simple gown that had Azriel turning into a rabid beast inside. "How is Fin?"

The smile on your mouth faltered, and your brows twitched, and look so vacant came over your eyes that Azriel's heart almost stopped at the sight of it. Shaking it off, you forced a smile, one too big to be real, and told him, "He's doing well. He's been making me insane with the damned piano in the foyer."

Much like how The Nether matched your melancholy, there were sentimental items within it that you had pulled from Prythian. The piano was one of them. It was the item that made Azriel realise that you were mates, when he heard you playing a blissfully calm melody accompanied by your infamous voice, singing a sonnet of love and loss, of hope and dreams. The song was about him, you had later admitted, and that did was make him love you more.

Though, the flicker of sadness in your eyes did little to convince Azriel that things were alright, and he sent a mental message to Rhys of it, of the forced smiles and glazed orbs, and of how you kept on fidgeting with your fingers, a thing you only did when you were hiding something.

It didn't take a literal spymaster that long to figure out your tells.

Azriel played along, "Surely he isn't that bad?"

With a supple shrug, you answered, "He quite good at it actually. It just reminds me of different times."

Of times when our lives were entwined.

"I dreamt of you the other night," you told him nervously, glancing around and sending warm yet curt smiles to anyone that passed, just hoping to get a glimpse of that holy face. "It felt so real. You were sat at the piano beneath the open roof. The rain had stopped for a moment but the stone was still wet and puddled in places, but you were playing such a beautiful song, and all I could was stand at the doorway and watch you. I didn't want it to end, and part of me thought for a moment that it was real. That something was real."

"Y/N," Azriel frowned, fingers brushing against the cool of your wrist, "What's happened?"

Consciously realising where you stood, you took Azriel's hand in your own, and pulled him from the room into one of the many hallways that descended from it. You pulled him all the way to the other side of the castle, only stopped at a large window that looked out onto the warmly lit gardens that you had walked in often once upon a time.

Turning to your mate, you couldn't help but allow your mask to fall, "Fin is gone," you admitted, holding onto yourself to keep yourself together.

Azriel took a step forward, raking his hair back and lifting your chin from the ground to meet his eyes. "What do you mean?"

In the moonlight was when Azriel looked his best, with that pallid cascade falling over his face, illuminating the sharpness of his eyes and jaw, and the hollows of his cheekbones. He always dressed to impress you, always opting for his usual black attire, but he knew how much you loved the open collar, just delicious enough to show off the contours of his chest.

"It was good for a long time, we were happy," you spoke softly, allowing Azriel to take your arms in his hands, "But he started to get sad, he started to feel like he didn't belong there. He said it was too cold."

"I never meant him to feel like that, I swear. I was so desperate to not lose him that I didn't realise that his soul might not harmonise with the darkness I had created," Azriel brushed his fingers over your cheek, tucking back a loose strand of hair behind your pointed ear, waiting patiently for you to carry on. "I let him go. I let him go to find another world that has everything I couldn't give him. He left me a little while ago, and I suppose that I needed some time to come to terms with it."

Azriel felt his throat tighten, he knew how much you loved Fin, how you would have done anything to make him happy. You loved that boy so much that you ripped time and space apart so that you could be together.

"Y/N- I'm so sorry," he gathered you into his arms, rubbing his fingers in circles atop the small of your back whilst your tears dampened the silk of his shirt.

"He's gone."

The pain in your voice made his essence rage with agony. Azriel nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, breathing in the scent of you so deeply that it may stain his lungs for eternity. He pulled back, still keeping a firm grip on you as he pressed his forehead to yours, allowing his breath to fan over you skin in the hope that it would centre you slightly.

"I know you feel like you're alone, Poet. I promise you that you're not. Fin was an amazing boy, and I know that he loved you in ways that you may never understand. Do you know how happy he was when he found out that we were destined to be together?" Azriel asked, accepting your stifled nod as a sign to continue, "He was overjoyed by it, all he ever wanted was for you to be happy. And, I think that on some level, he knew that The Nether wasn't right for either of you. Fin didn't want to hold you back, and I think he loved you so much that letting you go was the only way to ensure it. He knew you never would have left him, not voluntarily."

"I feel so lost," you all but whispered into the air, sniffling and using your pale sleeve to wipe the tears falling down your cheeks.

Azriel took your face in his hands, one that he had held in the same way more times than he could count, "Then let me guide you home, Poet. Let me help you. You are the sun, y/n, you deserve to shine once more."

If you didn't already love Azriel so deeply, then you could have sworn that you had fallen in love again in that moment. Part of you believed that you didn't deserve him, not after you had chosen to leave him, not after you had reduced your bond to a single visit a year. But Azriel had waited for you his entire life, and he would continue to wait for the rest of his days, be it old and senile or rugged and beautiful, your Azriel would always wait.

Without wanting to miss another moment, you rose on the tips of your toes to connect your lips to his in what could only be described as a life-altering kiss. The bond that had been cold for so long burst to life, shrouding you both in tendrils of gold that weaved through your hair and launched your collective shadows onto the grass below the windows.

His lips were soft, and his hands gripped onto your face before finding your hips, and Azriel knew that if he died from lack of oxygen that he could happily walk into hell knowing that he had held heaven in his hands.

Once you had both pulled back, panting and glowing golden with your fists furled into the silk of his shirt, you managed to smile and brush your nose against his. "Home," you uttered gently, stroking the back of his neck, "Sounds like a lovely idea."

Author's Note

First fic back, eek!

I'm so sorry if you don't like this - it's been so long since I've posted and I'm just trying really hard to get back into my writing style x

If you love it then yay! And if you want more then as always, let me know!

[storiesfromafan]

His Nightmare - Mattheo x Reader

A/N: do forgive me and my lack of Mattheo stories, or updates on my Obsessed series. But I am back, gracing you with a small under 1000 word one-shot.

I promise I am workiing on the next part of Obsessed 😅

They say Mattheo Riddle was possessive and a psycho when it came to you, his girlfriend. And that was warranted. The only thing most students didn’t know was that you were just as bad, if not worse then your boyfriend.

A silly Hufflepuff girl makes goo-goo eyes at Mattheo as she passes him in the hallway. You’re waiting a head of her, by a set of stairs. And when she is near, that girl accidently ends up going down them all the while you look on with a pointed glare.

An over confident Gryffindor girl passes Mattheo a note in potions, while you’re sitting next to him. Sure you both had a laugh at her stupid confession. But she ends up with detention after you hex her potion to explode when Snape is inspecting her potion. The classroom unfortunately has to deal with a dark cloud due to Snape being covered in a foamy substance.

A cocky Ravenclaw girl falls into Mattheo's lap when out in the courtyard, giggling and calling herself clumsy. When she’s far from it. Of course your boyfriend rolls his eyes and plays nice. But you don’t hold your tongue. Telling her to get her brain checked for a possible misplaced brain cell. Or better yet, go to Madam Pomfry and get her to use her bone growth potion to help fix her shotty legs. While you’re at it, get a life and sod off, as Mattheo ain’t interested in no bird brain. That last part a shot at the girls house.

Slytherin girls knew better. As the last, and only, girl to try to make a move on your boyfriend got the worse of it. No one will say what happened to her, but no one confirms nor denies an unforgivable curse was used. And that girl hadn’t returned after going home for Christmas break. Which didn’t help the rumors.

You’re a strong, darkness in Mattheo's life. And he wouldn’t have it any other way. For he was the same. Two dark souls, all consuming and loving the other. The unofficially titled King and Queen of Slytherin.

Lounging in the courtyard, you were propped up against a large tree. Your loving boyfriend was laying down, head resting on your lap. He was smoking a cigarette while you were reading and running your fingers threw his dark locks. Peace for the moment for you both. Something that doesn’t happen often. Your friends either in detention or bothering other students.

“I heard some interesting gossip" Mattheo said after expelling the latest draw from his cigarette.

“Hmm, really? Do tell" you replied turning the page you’d just finished.

He chuckled recalling the gossip. “I heard some Hufflepuff girl in flying lessons fell off her broom today".

“Oh? Is that all?” You questioned with amusement, your lips quirking at the corner in a small smirk.

Mattheo smirked to himself. “No, no. It seems the silly girls broom took off on its own. Taking her on a rather lively ride around the open area, before finally shaking her off and into a ditch".

You giggled darkly. “Is that so? How clumsy of her".

Mattheo looked up to you, amused by the joy you were experiencing from his words. “I thought you would have told me love, as you were in that class".

You marked your page and closed the book, setting it down beside you. You looked down at your boyfriend with warmth and satisfaction in your eyes. Leaning down you placed a small, lingering kiss up on his lips. The taste of his current cigarette invading you, but you most definitely enjoyed it when it was mixed with his own natural taste. Pulling back you gave him a beaming smile.

“It must have slipped my mind love, sorry" was your simple reply with a cute giggle. Before you sat back up, picking up your book and continuing were you left off.

Mattheo laughed, feeling nothing but pride. “Hmm, yes it must have".

He knew it was you. But what he didn’t know was that the Hufflepuff was mouthing off about you. Saying how Mattheo could do better then you. How you were beneath him. How she was better. You had laughed at that. And hexed her broom to teach her a lesson. Which it has, as when you crossed paths earlier in the hallway, as she was heading from the infirmary, displaying a frightened look on her face before she scuttled away. Tail between her legs.

Yes, girl after girl who comes up against you learns their lesson. Other female students know their place, but there are still those that step forward to challenge you. And you will always knock them down, to the place beneath you, were they belong.

“You are such a nightmare" Mattheo mused with delight and love.

You smiled, twisting one of Mattheo's curls around a finger. “Yes love, but I am and always will be your nightmare".

A/N: requests are open 😊

[seresinhangmanjake]

Together and More

Daddy!Benny Cross x Momma!Reader

Summary: Daddy!Benny moments from the birth of his baby to a parenting anxiety episode to a few years down the line with a little toddler.

Notes/Warnings: *Spoiler free* Unofficial Part 3 to Come Back Knockin’ and Come Back Together. I say ‘unofficial’ because it’s more like an epilogue-y time-jump thing and I might go back later and add more fics between the last part and this to bulk up the story (if people are interested. If not I’ll probably just move on to new Benny fics unrelated to this story). Fluffy family cuteness. Girl dad!Benny. Angsty-ish at brief points (if you squint, I suppose). Kissing. Mention of pregnancy. Typos.

Words: 3400

Benny Cross Masterlist

When the nurse escorts him into the delivery room, Benny freezes. Wide blue orbs flick between you and the bundle in your arms, and despite the distance, you can see his hard swallow. You can practically feel his heart thumping, reverberating off the walls, and when his lips part, you’re unsure if it’s from awe or anxiety or a mix of the both. 

When it comes to your husband’s emotions over the birth of his child, it has varied by the day. There’s been a steadiness and consistency to his excitement, thankfully, but he has vacillated between trusting in his ability to be a father and questioning what good he can bring to a kid’s life. This last week in particular was the most chaotic for his ups and downs knowing your due date was around the corner.

“Hi Daddy,” you say, hoping your smile will ease any brewing discomfort in his system. Benny doesn’t move, but his gaze has officially decided to glue to the baby. For the moment, you’ll take that as a win. Had you given birth eight months ago, you’re not sure he would have touched his child with a ten-foot pole, let alone looked at them. “Well, are you going to come see her or what?”

Benny snaps out of the shock gripping his body and he blinks. Swallows again. “It’s a girl?” he asks, a mild tremble in his voice.

With your nod, he takes a deep breath, and from the continuation of your encouraging smile, his limbs regain their functioning. It’s a snails-pace twenty steps, but eventually, he makes it to your side. 

There’s a twinge of guilt in your gut from feeling relieved while he’s tightly wound with tension, but you can’t help it. Benny is unpredictable until the last second. As much as he’s been reliable during your final months of pregnancy, nipping at your mind was the possibility of a second disappearance. But he didn’t run. He’s here. He came to you. He came for her. 

Benny’s knuckles whiten around the railing of your bed as you pull your daughter away from your chest and tilt her forward so he can take in her sleeping face. 

“Hold her,” you say, raising your arms toward him. Benny’s eyes widen. He backs up and you sigh, having expected that response. “Benny.”

“I’ll drop her.”

“Yea, because you’re so weak-muscled,” you tease with a playful roll of your eyes. You cradle your baby against your body so you have a free hand to reach out and grab him by the wrist, guiding him back to the edge of the bed. 

“Hold your arm out,” you instruct. A beat passes but he does as you say, allowing you to nestle her into the curl of his strong arm. “Cup her head with your other hand. Like that. Good. See? You’re perfect.”

He’s holding her like she’s some sort of rare, expensive bike part that took a year of his life to track down, but his shoulders slowly untighten as he starts to rock her back and forth like the natural you suspected he would be. When she opens her doe eyes to stare up at him, Benny’s brow pinches and tears start falling down your cheeks because his eyes have turned glassy and you’ve never before witnessed the sight. It’s unlikely anyone has.

“So?” you ask. “What do you think?”

Benny nods. “You did so good, baby,” he says, glancing up at you with a grin. He’s quick to return his gaze to his daughter. “You made us a beauty.”

You sniffle. “You contributed to that as well.”

“Yea, but she looks like you.”

It’s possible as she ages that she’ll develop a feature of yours here and there, but when you look at your daughter now, all you see is him. His nose, his eyes, his lips. She’s him, and you’d tell him so, but you’re not sure your words would break through the trance the baby has him in. 

—

When you wake, he’s not beside you. The sun is long from rising, and yet there’s no warmth, no lingering scent of his cologne, and when you flip over, the comforter remains smoothly spread out on his side. 

You kick the covering off your legs and stand, snatching your silk robe off the closet's doorknob to slip over its matching nightie. You know where he is. It’s where he’s spent many of his nights in the past three weeks. 

In the corner of the nursery, perched in the quilted chair, Benny is hunched forward with his elbows resting on his knees, his fingers woven and clenched as he stares at the crib where your daughter lies fast asleep under the low glow of her nightlight.

“Benny…” you start, making your way to him. His stare doesn’t break from the baby as he leans back against the cushion and spreads his legs so you can take your place on his lap. An arm slides across your lower back, a palm plants on your bare thigh, and you cuddle into his chest.

“You didn’t come to bed,” you say.

Benny hums in acknowledgment.

“You’ve got to be at the shop in four hours.” To that, he doesn’t even utter a sound. 

It’s not until you say, “Are you ready to tell me what's been going on in that head of yours?” that you get a response. 

He exhales heavily, then says, “What if I’m not good enough for her?” 

The question doesn’t surprise you. You assumed it was something along those lines, simply from observing his behaviors since you came home from the hospital. 

Benny’s smile rivals the sun whenever he takes his daughter in his arms, but the longer he looks at her, the more he thinks, and the more he thinks, the further that smile falls. He cradles his baby and his mind runs away with him. He peers too far into the future, digging up every possible problem and road bump ahead. Problems and road bumps—some of which you have no doubt are outlandish—that may never come to fruition. 

Your fingers weave into the blond tips at the nape of his neck and you delicately scrape the base of his skull with your nails. 

“That’s crazy. You’re amazing with her,” you tell him.

“She’s only three weeks old,” Benny argues. “There’s plenty of time to fuck it up.” 

“Ben–”

You’re cut off by the intensity with which his eyes drill into yours. A raw realness of concern swirls in blue irises. “What if she needs things that I can't afford to get her?”

Your brow raises. “Like what?”

“Anything,” he tells you. “What if she resents me for not havin’ better to offer? Her friends’ pops will have better jobs than me—more money in their pockets. We don’t even have a car to take her places; we’ve been borrowin’ Betty’s, for fuck’s sake. And this neighborhood? Baby, this street isn’t as safe as it used to be.”

You sigh. He’s right. You hate to admit it because you hoped he was worried over sillier matters, but every bit of what he said is fair. Your daughter will have friends whose fathers have established careers and the salaries to match. There will be lawyers and doctors and financiers living in areas that, while vastly nicer, still feed into the same schools your child will attend. You will need a car, ideally within the next few months because Benny can’t be riding to daycare with the baby clipped into the side satchel on the seat of his bike. And yes, the neighborhood has undeniably taken a turn in the past year. You should start planning your lives on a budget so you can get a small place outside the city. 

But the difference between you and Benny is that you know all of this is attainable. You know the two of you can do this. You know you’re both good enough and smart enough and resourceful enough to raise your baby. 

Benny removes his palm from your thigh and rubs his fingers across his forehead. You put your hands on his cheeks to turn his face back to yours. 

“Benny Cross, you are not going to fuck up. Our daughter is not going to resent you,” you say with absolute certainty, adding extra force to your tone. “She needs you and she needs me, and that's it. Everything else we will figure out in time.”

—

Three Years Later

You love to watch them. You love to watch how they exist together. You love how Benny tucks her into bed at night; how he wakes her extra early on Saturdays to make pancakes—one of the few meals he managed to master; how she stares up at him with a trembling bottom lip until he reluctantly agrees to play dollies with her; and how eager she is to take interest in anything and everything he has to show her. 

In the beginning, it wiggled your nerves to see her so curious about bikes—what mother wants to imagine her daughter on the back of a motorcycle—but she is her father’s daughter. Trying to shield her from her interests would only make her want to pursue them more, whether you agreed to it or not, so you took a step back and let it happen, knowing Benny would approach it appropriately. 

Now, it’s another one of those moments between them that you love to watch—this time watching without their knowledge as you peek through the sliver of space in the barely open door that connects the kitchen to the garage. 

The garage door is up to permit some natural lighting, and Benny, ratchet in hand, sits on a section of concrete that is shaded from the prying heat of Summer’s sun. He’s messing with the body of his bike as Lucy stands to his side; close, but not so close that she could be harmed should he accidentally lose his grip on a tool. 

“Ok,” he says, wiping the sweat from his forehead. He offers Lucy the ratchet and says, “Wrench please.”

Lucy carefully takes the tool by the handle—just as Benny taught her—before looking into the open box at her feet. Her head tilts as she examines its contents, and then she leans down, places the ratchet back where it belongs, and wraps her little fingers around the wrench. Pulling it out, she waves it back and forth with great enthusiasm before presenting it to her father. 

Benny smiles and she places the tool in his open palm. “Good job, nugget,” he praises as he softly pinches her round cheek. She giggles. 

Lucy takes in Benny’s every movement, observing like a tiny apprentice would a master. She’s attentive and nods along with everything he says even though she has no idea what a lick of it means. She does so until Benny finishes the job and closes up the toolbox. 

The second both of his hands are free, Lucy vaults herself into her father’s arms with such vigor that she nearly knocks him onto his back.

“Fixed it?” she asks, placing her hands on his shoulders and hoisting herself up so she’s at his eye level. 

“Fixed it,” Benny confirms with a nod, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

When you push the door open, their heads whip in your direction. Benny’s face splits to reveal a row of white teeth, and Lucy’s eyes—the same shade as Benny’s—light up, sparkling so stunningly that you almost don’t want to let the next words out of your mouth. 

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news,” you say, “but it’s nap time Lady Lu.”

Lucy gasps and looks at Benny to verify that he’s just as shocked. To her great enjoyment, he plays the part. 

“Momma’s got us on a schedule,” he tells her.

Her face scrunches in distaste. “Yucky!”

“Yucky?” Your eyebrows shoot up your forehead in mock offense. “Sounds like Daddy is teaching you to rebel against authority,” you say, crossing your arms as you give your husband a pointed look, “which I would really prefer he hold off on for a few years.”

Benny’s faux shock fades to a chuckle. “Alright,” he concedes, setting Lucy on her feet so he can stand. “Momma’s right, nugget.”

He winks at you and you grin as you reach toward him, grabbing his face to draw him in for a quick, thankful kiss. Just as he’s about to go in for a second peck, Lucy tugs on his hand to redirect his attention where she wants it: on her distress. 

“But–But you guys don’t have nap time!”

“Oh sure we do,” Benny says as he lifts her into his arms and settles her on his hip. “We nap when you nap.”

She glances at you, and when you nod she mutters an unconfident “Oh.” 

Not wanting to insult her feelings, you suck in your laugh. Your daughter despises the thought of missing out on any fun and has decided that it must be when she naps that her parents go wild. Little does she know that you take any opportunity to rest, and if Benny is home, so does he. 

It’s been a hardworking three years. Exhausting. Taxing to a degree that your bodies still haven’t fully recovered. Benny spent the majority of his waking hours at the shop while Kathy and Betty offered to watch Lucy so you could get a job as an office assistant; painfully dull work, but not an opportunity you took for granted considering you had no training in the area before you were hired. You both worked as often as you could for as many hours as your employers would allow, so much so that Benny would hold you through the tears you shed worrying if it was subconsciously affecting Lucy. You didn’t want her to know her parents for their absence, but at the end of the day, it was all for her, so you pressed on. 

You and Benny found peace and relaxation in the simple things—late-night rides; bonfires with the club; Saturday morning cartoons with Lu—but the rest of the time you were wearing yourselves out, and not always in the pleasurable way. 

But it was worth it. Every headache from lack of sleep, every aching joint from your constant desk sitting and Benny’s physical labor, every emotional outburst that the two of you would coax one another out of—worth it. 

Six months in, you got that car you needed. By a year, Benny had bought into the shop for fifty percent. And at the end of two years, you found a house just outside the city—a modest three-bedroom with a yard and a garage.

“Are you sleepy now?” Lucy asks, her voice already beginning to lose the oomph of its energy.

You softly snicker. Your daughter always hits her marks. Like clockwork, about two minutes post-nap-time announcement, regardless of whether or not she fights you on it, her eyelids struggle to open after each blink and her words leave her mouth at a more sluggish pace. 

“Very,” you nod again. “But we certainly won't nap if you won't. We wouldn’t want to miss out on any fun with you.” The tip of your index finger taps her tiny nose. 

“N-No, I'll do it,” she says, “if you guys are tired too.”

“We are, nugget,” Benny tells her. “So let's get you to bed, sound good?”

She’s fading fast but she uses some of that remaining energy to give a little grin before laying her head on her father’s shoulder and releasing a yawn. “Yea, Daddy.”

—

“Well, that took all of fifteen seconds,” you say as Benny gently closes Lucy’s bedroom door behind him. 

You start heading for your room with your husband trailing after you, but then there’s a tight grip on your waist and you’re spun to face in the opposite direction. Fumbling your steps, your chest bumps against Benny’s before he bends down, wraps a thick arm around your thighs, and tosses you over his shoulder. 

When you yelp, you’re punished with a swat on the ass. “Hush, baby. You wake Lu and we don’t get our nap, and after workin’ on the bike all mornin’, I could really use one.”

He carries you to your bedroom, sets you on the edge of the bed, and throws himself onto his back atop the mattress. Then, arms spread wide, smirk across his face, he says, “C’mere,” and you crawl into your usual space against his body. After a synced sigh, Benny crooks his knuckle under your chin and tips your head back so he can seal his lips to yours. 

You’ll never tire of this. Of him. The feel of him around you. The taste of him. The scent of cologne and motor oil. The way he nips at your bottom lip to pull a muffled squeak from your throat and how he smiles into the kiss at his achievement. It’s too damn good and nothing could match it. 

Knowing how your future would have evolved if Benny hadn’t returned after learning of your pregnancy is impossible. Maybe you would have found happiness if you had moved on and met another man, but you wholeheartedly believe that that man, whoever he might have been, wouldn’t have had the capacity to be what you need. When Benny stepped into your world, he took the mold—your ideal image of the love of your life—and stretched it out to fit him perfectly, and then he immediately broke it so no man could so much as attempt to take his place. And it worked. There was never going to be anyone else for you. At least, not anyone who could give you what you have now. 

As Benny’s fingertips graze over your cheek and bury into your hair, he shifts his weight, rolling you onto your back. Lips press harder into yours and then they disappear. Your eyes snap open, a pout rapidly forming that he quickly kisses away. 

“Wanna talk to you about somethin’,” Benny says lowly, whisper-like as his nose nudges yours. You do your best to straighten out your thoughts and pay attention, but it’s made difficult by the comforting weight of his body bleeding into yours and his thumb brushing back and forth along your cheekbone. “You know, Johnny and Betty said they’d watch Lu tonight if we want.”

With narrowing eyes, you reply “Yes,” drawing out the word, wondering where he’s going with this and why it has to interrupt the kissing.

“If you wanna take ‘em up on that, I was thinkin’ we could go for a ride, and then—” he shrugs the shoulder not supporting his weight above you, “I don’t know, maybe we come home and make another kid.”

Your eyes shift from mildly irritated slits to round saucers. “What?”

“Yea,” he says. “Thought it might be nice.” 

“Seriously?” 

“I mean, if you’re willin’ to birth another one, I’d be happy to put one in you.”

A laugh bubbles from your chest. “Would you now?”

Benny nods, planting a kiss on your mouth. That kiss moves to your cheek, then his lips ghost along your jawline before landing on the sensitive spot just under your ear. “You just gotta say yes, baby,” he says, warm breath heating your skin, “and nine months from tonight, we could have our second one.”

Your fingers glide through his hair, fisting the strands as you angle your head to give him better access to your neck. He licks and sucks until you moan, and then you say, “You’re that confident you can get me pregnant on the first shot?”

Benny pulls his head back to look at you. “Course I am. When I did it last time, I wasn’t even tryin’,” he says, cocky grin in place. But then his features soften. “So? What do you think?”

Your lips quirk to the side and you hum. “Alright, Benny Cross,” you say. “Let’s make another baby.”

---

A/N: I keep writing scenes with mothers eavesdropping on father/child bonding moments 🫣

Taglist (if you wanna join)

[rcmclachlan]

Tommy Kinard, from a long line of Gloucester fishermen. Hence his penchant for ill-fitting jeans, flannel, and affection via bitchiness.

He and Evan are sitting on the little bench outside The Causeway waiting for their chowder—best in the country, hands down—when Evan, who's been quietly studying boats in various stages of winter wrapping across the road, suddenly asks, "Why did you leave here? It's awesome. The downtown area looks like something out of a postcard—"

"It does not," Tommy interjects. "Rockport's downtown, on the other hand..."

"—and the beaches feel like real beaches, even if they do smell like shit."

Tommy tilts his head back and inhales the heavy, but comfortingly familiar stench of low tide. "I left because the town's unofficial motto used to be 'Come for the heroin, stay because you've developed a crippling heroin addiction.'"

Unimpressed, Evan nudges him with an elbow, then jumps to his feet to get the door for a family of six who will be waiting at least a month for a table big enough to accommodate them to open up.

The Causeway is approximately the size of an elevator car. Despite its outward appearance, it's relatively new; it hadn't been there when Tommy was a kid. The little cinema next door had been, though, and he feels a surge of pride for the Williams family that it's still going after all this time.

"No, but seriously." Evan hunkers back down next to him. "Why'd you leave?"

"Why'd you leave Hershey?" Tommy counters.

The corner of Evan's mouth twitches knowingly. He's got Tommy's number in a way no one else does. "You know why I left. But you could've stayed here and done anything. Massachusetts might be even more progressive than California—I mean, it was the first state to legalize gay marriage. Plus, I know there's an air base nearby."

"Hanscom," Tommy says. "It belongs to the Air Force and I wouldn't have been caught dead joining them."

Evan gives him a dubious look. "But the Army was okay?"

"Don't you know, Evan? The Army is for real men," he says with a grin, putting an emphasis on it so Evan knows just whose words he's parroting. "The Air Force is for fa—"

"Yeah, okay, I got it," Evan says loudly, cutting a furtive glance at the people on the other bench, who are too busy looking at their phones and not talking to each other to pay attention to any casual homophobia. "You're gonna get us run out of town."

"Please, it's Gloucester. If anything, they'll probably join in."

Evan deflates a little, pouting, and Tommy is helpless against the urge to press a kiss to his hair. What Evan doesn't understand is that Massachusetts is like an impressionist painting: beautiful if you're standing back far enough to see the whole of it, but get closer and it's as ugly as anywhere else.

"My point was," Tommy continues, "I left because I needed something more than what this place could give me, same as you. And also I needed to be somewhere with a spring wind chill above -10°."

"You bitch if the temps hit above 70," Evan points out.

"I also bitch if the day ends in Y." Tommy shrugs. "Complaining is the official state sport, especially when it comes to the weather."

Checking his phone for the time, Evan heaves an impatient sigh and drops his chin onto Tommy's shoulder. He's too used to LA's food trucks to last a minute here. "There's so much here, though. Like, Worcester looked fun."

Tommy winces. "It's pronounced 'Wuss-ter'."

Wide-eyed, Evan lifts his head. "You're shitting me."

"I shit you not," Tommy says. "And Worcester's okay. It's big, though. And a pain in the ass to navigate."

"What's beyond Worcester?"

"Nobody knows." He coughs out a 'fuck' when Evan buries an elbow in his gut.

Laughing, Evan echoes, "'Fahk.' There's the accent I've been hoping to hear. I mean, heeyah. Try and hide it all you want, Kinard, I know what you are."

"Okay, Hershey, I dare you to say 'water' like a normal person," Tommy can't help but tease. "Remember, there's no U or D in it."

Eyes sparkling, Evan presses close with a shit-eating grin and says slyly, "I'll show U where to put a D."

Before Tommy can shove him off the bench for that one, the door to the restaurant opens and a head pops out. "Order for Kinard?"

"Saved by the clams," Evan chortles, standing up when Tommy goes to grab the bag from the kid. He gives a long, luxurious stretch, and Tommy can't help but let his eyes be drawn to Evan's belly when his shirt rides up. "Where do you want to eat? We could go sit down by the beach. There's a big dahlia garden display there."

Huh. They still do that? That's actually kind of sweet, but Tommy has plans and they don't involve the public.

"If you don't mind a bit of light trespassing, we'll head up to Mussel Point. The view's well worth it."

Intrigued, Evan lifts his brows. "Trespassing? Gee, Tommy, you take me to all the best places."

That snark is nowhere to be found half an hour later when Evan's full of clam chowder and getting ruthlessly jacked off while the ocean bays at his feet, but Tommy doesn't call him on it.

[moonpascal]

IN THE SHADOW OF MEMORY

CHAPTER ONE series masterlist

SUMMARY II WC: 3k

When a careless spell erases her memories of Theo, he’s left grappling with the pain of being forgotten. As she returns to seeing him as just another Slytherin, Theo must navigate a world where the love they shared no longer exists—at least, not in her mind. But Theo refuses to give up. He’ll do whatever it takes to remind her of the connection they once had.

WARNINGS: angst, fighting, not 100% canon compliant 

DEDICATION

thank you so much to @amiableness for helping me with chapter! i don’t know what i would do without you and giving me motivation to write this! i love you! 🤎

thank you to @mischievousmoony for helping my brain block i was having and helping me with ideas, you’re amazing and i love you! 🫶🏼

"Is the coast clear?" you whisper to Theo, your heart pounding in your chest. Sneaking into the Room of Requirement had always been nerve-wracking, but with the additional new rules Umbridge had enforced and the rising threat of Voldemort, it felt more dangerous than ever. Even more so because Theo was betraying his own house and friends to be here.

Theo takes another quick glance down the corridor, then nods. He reaches for your hand, his fingers lacing with yours as he pulls you out from your hiding spot.

You both move swiftly and silently toward the wall where the entrance to the Room of Requirement appears. You glance behind you, double-checking to make sure no one is following, before Theo tugs you inside.

Inside, the room is already alive with the sound of practicing defense spells. You and Theo head to the corner that has unofficially become your spot. Some of the others still cast wary glances at Theo, unsure if they can trust a Slytherin among them. Only the Golden Trio seems comfortable with his presence.

As you settle in, the adrenaline from sneaking around begins to subside, but your worry for Theo doesn’t. You can’t help but think about the risks he's taking—defying his father's beliefs, lying to his friends, putting himself in danger—all because he believes in making a change. You know how much he cares for them, and it breaks your heart that he's forced to choose between them and doing what’s right.

You shift closer to Theo, your hand resting lightly on his knee, a silent attempt to anchor him. He’s still tense, his eyes sweeping the room as if on constant alert. Instead of reaching for the textbook like usual, he closes it and sets it aside, surprising you.

“I think we both know enough for now,” he murmurs, his voice heavy with exhaustion. “Let’s practice today instead.”

You know the purpose of these meetings is to practice spells, but the thought of doing so in front of your peers makes your stomach twist with anxiety. The fear of messing up or accidentally hurting someone lingers in your mind, making the idea of participating overwhelming.

Theo, ever attuned to your emotions, senses your hesitation. He gently pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and rubbing your arm in a soothing gesture. “We’ll start simple,” he whispers reassuringly, his lips brushing against the side of your head in a tender kiss. “Just a quick Expelliarmus. You’ve got this.”

His warmth and steady presence begin to melt away your nerves, making the idea of practicing a little less daunting. With Theo by your side, you feel like you can handle whatever comes next.

Reluctantly, you pull away from his embrace, already missing the warmth. Moments like these—where you could be close to him without worrying about prying eyes—were rare. Even in the hallways, you could barely walk side by side without Umbridge or Filch barking at you to separate.

You stand, shrugging off your robe to give yourself more freedom of movement, and follow Theo to an open space.

“Alright, you know the movement, and you’ve seen it done. You’ve got this, amore,” Theo encourages, his words ringing with confidence.

Your muscles tense. If you mess up, the spell could do more than just disarm him; it could knock him out. But when Theo flashes that smile—the one that always makes your heart skip—you find yourself believing you can do it.

You take your stance, feeling the weight of the moment as Theo prepares himself, raising his wand as if ready to duel. With a deep breath, you steady yourself and shout, “Expelliarmus!” The spell shoots out from your wand, hitting its mark perfectly. Theo’s wand flies across the room, landing with a clatter as relief floods through you.

Theo’s grin widens as he claps and cheers, “I knew you could do it, tesoro!”

You watch him jog to retrieve his wand, a warmth spreading through your chest. How did you get so lucky to have him? He’s your anchor, the reason you keep pushing forward. He makes you want to be better, to reach higher.

When Theo returns, he places his hands on either side of your face, his eyes shining with pride. “See? You were amazing. Nothing to worry about,” he murmurs, his voice low and reassuring. He leans in, and you meet him halfway, your lips brushing softly against his.

The kiss is slow and tender, each movement gentle as if savoring the moment. You taste the faint remnants of cigarettes and the sweetness of his breakfast. It’s a kiss that speaks of quiet reassurance, of the bond you share, strong and unwavering.

But then you remember where you are, in front of everyone. You pull back, your lips lingering just a moment longer before you peck his lips one last time, a small smile playing on your face.

“I love you, Theo,” you whisper, your foreheads touching, the world around you fading away as you both savor the closeness of the moment.

But as the saying goes, all good things must come to an end.

As you and Theo are lost in your own world, Harry is practicing a spell, the weight of the war and the responsibility of training others pressing heavily on him. The stress shows in his furrowed brow as he skims through spells in his textbook, landing on Obliviate, the charm to erase specific memories. Whatever memories Harry wants to erase is up for debate, but he doesn’t fully grasp the complexity of the spell.

With only a quick glance at the incantation, he swishes and flicks his wand, but nothing happens. Frustration builds as he tries again, more forcefully, but to no avail. Sweat slicks his palm, and with a sharp, aggressive flick, his wand slips from his grip.

Sparks fly out, ricocheting off the floor and walls. Harry tries to shout a warning, but it’s too late. The spell rebounds, hitting the back of your head and sending you flying into Theo.

Theo barely reacts in time, catching you as you collapse into his chest, limp and unresponsive. His arms instinctively wrap around you as he kneels, lowering you gently to the floor.

You look as if you’re merely asleep, but your breaths come slow and shallow. Panic seizes Theo as he brushes your hair out of your face, his voice trembling.

“Amore, come on, wake up. It’s okay, you’re okay,” he whispers, his mind racing for what to do.

A crowd of students gathers around you both, their whispers only fueling Theo’s panic. He snaps, his voice a sharp contrast to the desperation in his heart. “Who did this?!” he demands, his eyes wild as they scan the frightened faces.

“It was me, I’m sorry, I—” Harry begins, but Theo is on him in an instant, grabbing him by the shirt and pulling him close, his rage palpable.

“You’re dead, Potter!” Theo snarls, his grip tightening.

Fred and George are quick to intervene, pulling Theo off Harry, while Ron helps steady his shaken friend. “Let’s calm down, yeah?” Fred says, trying to reason with Theo. “We need to get her to Madam Pomfrey. She’ll be okay.”

“She better be,” Theo threatens, his voice low and dangerous. He shrugs off the twins and returns to your side, his heart hammering in his chest as he watches your shallow breaths. When someone offers to help, he waves them off, scooping you up in his arms and pushing past everyone, his focus solely on getting you to safety.

Adrenaline courses through him, fueling his every step as he rushes through the empty corridors—thank Merlin—for six floors until he finally bursts into the hospital wing.

He wastes no time, laying you gently on one of the beds. Madam Pomfrey turns to scold him, but the words die in her throat when she sees your unconscious form.

“What happened?” she asks, her tone sharp with concern.

“She was fine one second, then something hit her head, and she just… collapsed,” Theo says, trying to keep his explanation as vague as possible to avoid suspicion.

“It’s okay, Theodore,” Madam Pomfrey reassures him, her voice softening. “I’m sure it’s nothing serious. Let me examine her. Just breathe, grab a chair, alright?”

Theo nods, though he can hardly think straight. He watches anxiously as Madam Pomfrey performs a series of diagnostic spells, her brow furrowing as each result comes back normal.

“I’m not finding anything out of the ordinary, Nott,” she finally says, puzzled. “She seems perfectly fine, just asleep.”

But Theo isn’t looking at her. He’s holding your hand, his thumb gently stroking your skin as he wills you to wake up.

“We’ll wait until she comes around, okay? I’ll let you stay with her overnight to keep an eye on things,” Madam Pomfrey says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before drawing a partition around your bed to give you both some privacy.

As soon as she’s gone, Theo chokes back a sob, his worst fears clawing at him. He knows something is wrong—no one just falls unconscious like that from a spell. He pulls the thin blanket up to cover you and leans down to press a soft kiss against your temple.

“I love you too, amore. You’re gonna be okay, alright?” he whispers, his voice cracking as he desperately hopes for a response, his heart aching in the silence.

———

Theo stirred awake as he felt a sudden movement beneath him. His eyes opened groggily, his head lifting from where it had been resting on your stomach, his arm still wrapped around your waist. The scratchy hospital wing blanket was a far cry from the soft one you were used to, but Theo had barely noticed, too consumed by worry to care about his own discomfort.

As you rubbed your eyes harshly, Theo blinked a few times to clear the sleep from his own, running a hand through his tousled hair. He sat up straighter, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep, when he heard your voice—sharp, confused.

“Nott? What are you doing here? And why am I in the hospital wing?”

Theo’s heart dropped. The way you said his name—Nott, not Theo, not love—sent a chill through him. He tensed, trying to keep his voice steady. “Tesoro, you were hit in the head, remember?” He reached out for your hand, desperate to offer some comfort, but you jerked it away before he could touch you.

“This isn’t funny, Nott! What prank are you and your friends pulling now?” Your glare was like a knife to his chest, cutting deep. Theo’s mind raced, trying to process what was happening. This wasn’t right—this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay calm even as panic clawed at him. The way you looked at him, the suspicion and anger in your eyes, made everything clear that something was terribly wrong.

“Please, just listen to me—” he started, but the words felt hollow. His worst fears were playing out right in front of him, and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

Theo jumped to his feet and rushed toward Madam Pomfrey, who was just arriving at the entrance to the hospital wing.

“She’s awake, but she’s acting like she doesn’t know me—please, you have to help,” Theo pleaded, his voice cracking with desperation. He wasn’t one to beg, not unless it was to you, but now the words spilled out uncontrollably, fear gripping his heart.

Madam Pomfrey nodded, quickly following him back to your bedside. You were sitting up, fiddling with your hands, a deep scowl etched on your face. Theo’s stomach churned at the sight—he knew that scowl too well, but it had been a long time since it had been directed at him.

“Good morning, dear! How are you feeling?” Madam Pomfrey asked, her voice warm and calm as she began to check your vitals.

You shrugged, casting a wary glance at Theo, who hovered behind the nurse, his heart pounding in his chest. “I feel okay, just confused about how I ended up here.”

“Alright, I’m going to ask you a series of questions, and I want you to answer them to the best of your ability, alright?”

You nodded, and Madam Pomfrey proceeded with the standard questions—what year it was, who the Minister of Magic was, what you did yesterday. You answered each one correctly, with ease, but Theo’s dread only deepened with every word. Everything you said lined up, except for one glaring omission—there was no mention of him. Not in any of it.

Madam Pomfrey paused, her gaze flicking to Theo before she asked the question that made his blood run cold. “Do you know him?” she asked, pointing to Theo.

You rolled your eyes and huffed, your irritation clear. “Yeah, he’s Theodore Nott, Slytherin. Which I’m still confused about—why is he here?”

Theo felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. The way you looked at him, the casual indifference in your voice, transported him back to a time before everything had changed—before you had opened your heart to him. It was as if the last year and a half had been erased, and the weight of that realization hit him like a ton of bricks. He sucked in a deep breath, trying to keep it together, but the familiar coldness in your eyes made it nearly impossible to breathe.

Theo felt his world collapse around him. He couldn’t stay in that room, couldn’t bear to see you look at him like he was a stranger. As Madam Pomfrey explained to you that you’d been hit in the head and Theo had brought you in, he bolted from the hospital wing, stumbling into the hallway. He leaned against a cold stone column, clutching his chest as panic set in. His heart raced uncontrollably, his breaths shallow and ragged. It was another panic attack, but this time, you weren’t there to help him through it. You didn’t even remember him. All those memories—the ones he cherished most—were gone. And it was all because of Potter.

His vision tunneled, everything blurring except for one thought: Harry had done this. He was the reason Theo’s entire world had been ripped away. And Harry was going to pay.

Theo knew exactly where to find him. He’d memorized Harry’s schedule down to the minute, having spent so much time with you before breakfast as you walked with Hermione and Harry. If he timed it right, he’d catch Harry just before he entered the Great Hall.

As Theo rounded the corner, he spotted the trio ahead. They noticed him too, and he saw the tension rise in their shoulders. But Theo was too far gone to care about what they thought. All he saw was Harry—the cause of all this pain.

Without hesitation, Theo marched straight up to them. His usual calm, calculated demeanor was gone, replaced by a storm of raw, unfiltered anger. He shoved Harry hard, sending him stumbling back, barely managing to stay on his feet.

“Nott, let’s talk about this,” Harry started, his voice laced with caution.

“What was the spell, Potter?” Theo demanded, his voice rough with barely contained fury.

“It was an accident!” Harry insisted, his eyes wide with desperation. “It was Obliviate. I swear, I didn’t mean to hit her!”

Theo’s hand shot out, grabbing Harry by his robe, pulling him close enough to feel the heat of his breath. A twisted smile played on Theo’s lips as he tightened his grip. “Oh, but I’m going to mean to hit you.”

He drew back his fist, ready to make Harry pay for everything he’d taken from him. But just as he was about to strike, your voice cut through the chaos, stopping him cold.

“Nott, what the hell are you doing?!” you yelled, rushing toward them, your eyes flashing with anger.

Harry immediately tried to shield you from the truth. “Trouble, it’s fine, really—”

“No, it’s not fine!” you interrupted, glaring at Theo as you pushed him away from Harry. “I’m sick of Slytherins picking on you-us for no reason!”

Theo felt his heart shatter as he watched you fix Harry’s robe, your attention entirely on his supposed enemy. You had no idea what Harry had done, what he had stolen from both of you.

When you finally turned back to Theo, the disgust in your eyes was a knife to his heart. “You’re pathetic, Nott, and you’ll never change,” you spat, the venom in your words leaving him reeling.

The surrounding students watched in stunned silence, the full weight of what had just happened sinking in. They now understood why Theo had been so close to breaking Harry’s face.

As you turned your back on him and walked away with your friends, Theo stood there, frozen. The disappointment in your eyes, the harshness of your words—it was too much. He felt like he might collapse under the weight of it all. But instead, he just stood there, watching you disappear into the Great Hall, his world crumbling around him.

Your words echoed in his mind, each one cutting deeper than the last. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms as he fought to keep from breaking apart. He wanted to scream, to lash out, but all he could do was stand there, helpless and shattered.

The hallway, once filled with tension, was now eerily silent, the students having scattered. Theo was left alone in the aftermath, cold and hollow, the life drained out of him in those few, terrible moments. You had been his anchor, his reason to believe in something beyond the darkness that had always surrounded him. And now you were gone, ripped away by a single, careless spell.

He didn’t know how long he stood there, but when he finally moved, it was like a switch had flipped inside him. He couldn’t let this be the end. He couldn’t lose you. There had to be a way to fix this, to bring you back to him. And if he had to tear the world apart to do it, he would.

first divider @saradika-graphics

[st4rlvr]

Christmas kisses || KSM

The air was thick with the familiar warmth of the holiday season. The smell of cinnamon and roasting vegetables wafted from the kitchen as soft Christmas music played in the background. Laughter echoed through the room, mingling with the sounds of Felix’s groans and Jeongin’s triumphant cheers as they raced each other in Mario Kart.

You sat tucked into the corner of Jeongin’s couch, a knitted blanket wrapped snugly around you as you cradled a steaming mug of hot chocolate. The whipped cream had melted into the drink, leaving a sweet foam that stuck to your lips when you sipped. Beside you, Seungmin was unusually quiet, his shoulder brushing against yours as he leaned back, one arm resting casually along the back of the couch.

It was your first Christmas together, and while Seungmin wasn’t the overly affectionate type—at least not when others were around—there was something undeniably soft about him tonight. Maybe it was the twinkling string lights reflecting in his eyes or the way the quiet hum of holiday joy seemed to settle into him like a second skin.

“You’re really bad at this, Felix,” Seungmin teased, watching as Jeongin claimed yet another first-place finish.

“I’m not bad! I just—my controller is broken,” Felix shot back, his brows furrowed and mouth in a pout.

“Sure,” Seungmin replied with a smirk. His hand found yours absentmindedly beneath the blanket, his thumb brushing over your knuckles with a tenderness that sent butterflies to your stomach.

You couldn’t help but glance at him, a small smile curling at your lips. He caught your gaze, his own softening just enough to make you wonder what was on his mind. Before you could ask, Seungmin leaned in slightly, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek. It happened so quickly, so naturally, that you almost didn’t register it.

But then you froze. And so did he.

From the kitchen, you could hear the clatter of pots and the sound of Jeongin’s brothers laughing with their mom. Felix and Jeongin were still engrossed in their game, shouting something about banana peels and shells. No one had noticed.

Seungmin pulled back just slightly, the tips of his ears turning red. He blinked at you like he was only now realizing what he’d done, and for a moment, he looked as though he was about to pull away completely.

“You’re blushing,” you whispered, grinning at him as you tightened your hold on his hand.

“I am not,” he mumbled, clearing his throat, though the flush on his face gave him away.

“It’s okay,” you teased softly. “I liked it.”

He rolled his eyes, but the corner of his mouth lifted in that shy, boyish smile you loved. Seungmin didn’t let go of your hand. Instead, he adjusted the blanket, tucking it further around both of you like he was shielding you from the rest of the world.

Jeongin’s triumphant yell broke the moment. “First place again! Felix, you owe me hot chocolate.”

Felix groaned loudly, throwing his head back. “This is rigged. I’m taking your controller next time.”

Seungmin shook his head, his demeanor falling back into its usual calm composure as he chuckled under his breath. But when his fingers squeezed yours just a little tighter, you couldn’t help but look at him again.

Even if Seungmin wasn’t big on public affection, tonight felt like an exception—a secret shared between just the two of you, wrapped up in the quiet magic of the holidays.

And maybe that was what made this Christmas, your first Christmas together, so special.

Dinner was a warm, lively affair. Jeongin’s mom and brothers had outdone themselves—the table was filled with steaming dishes, from roasted vegetables to perfectly golden rolls. The smell of the feast alone could have been a Christmas miracle. The room was full of chatter and laughter, with Jeongin acting as the unofficial host, making sure everyone had enough food while Felix animatedly recounted a story from practice, using exaggerated gestures that made everyone laugh.

Seungmin sat beside you, subtly refilling your glass of water and quietly ensuring you had your favorite dishes without making a big deal of it. It was just him—thoughtful without needing recognition. Every so often, his hand would brush against yours under the table, and you’d exchange soft smiles.

By the time dinner was finished, everyone was full and content. Jeongin stood up dramatically, stretching his arms overhead. “That was amazing, Mom. I’m going to need a food coma nap.”

“Not so fast,” his mom replied with a teasing tone. “You and Seungmin are on clean-up duty.”

Jeongin groaned but didn’t fight it, waving Seungmin toward the kitchen. “Come on, loser. Let’s do this.”

Seungmin rolled his eyes and got up, trailing after Jeongin. Before he left, he shot you a quick look—just a small glance, but one that lingered longer than usual. You felt your cheeks heat up.

Felix flopped onto the couch beside you with an exaggerated sigh, resting his head on the back of the cushion. “Jeongin’s family is elite at Christmas dinners. I don’t think I can move for an hour.”

You laughed. “Agreed. I don’t think I’ve ever been so full.”

“Jeongin’s mom needs to write a cookbook,” Felix said, turning to you. “We need to make it happen.”

Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Jeongin turned to Seungmin, who was drying dishes with practiced efficiency. Jeongin had a mischievous glint in his eye as he wiped a plate. “So…”

Seungmin didn’t look up. “So what?”

Jeongin grinned. “Don’t play dumb. I saw you kiss Y/N’s cheek earlier.”

The dish Seungmin was holding nearly slipped out of his hands, but he caught it just in time. “What?” he muttered, feigning innocence.

Jeongin leaned against the counter, grinning wider now that he had the upper hand. “You heard me. You kissed Y/N. Right there. On the cheek. In front of everyone.”

“No one saw that,” Seungmin replied quickly, his voice a little higher than usual.

“I did,” Jeongin sing-songed. “I knew it! Seungmin, the ice prince himself, getting all soft? I can’t believe my eyes.”

Seungmin turned sharply to glare at him, his face quickly turning red. “It’s not a big deal. Drop it.”

“Not a big deal? You’re blushing,” Jeongin teased, pointing at him. “Seungmin, you’re like a tomato right now.”

Seungmin shot him a look that could have frozen over an entire lake, but the effect was ruined by the unmistakable flush spreading to his ears. “Jeongin, I swear—”

“Relax, hyung,” Jeongin laughed, holding up his hands in surrender. “It’s cute. I didn’t think you had it in you.”

Seungmin groaned, focusing intensely on the dishes to avoid Jeongin’s smug grin. “You’re the worst.”

Back in the living room, you and Felix were mid-conversation when you heard Jeongin’s laugh echo from the kitchen. Felix paused, looking in that direction with a smirk. “Sounds like Jeongin’s stirring something up.”

You raised a brow. “Do I want to know?”

“Probably not,” Felix said with a chuckle. “But I’m guessing Seungmin’s on the receiving end. Jeongin’s like that. He loves messing with people he cares about.”

You smiled softly. “Seungmin can handle it.”

Felix tilted his head with a knowing look. “You guys are cute, you know that?”

You felt heat rush to your face. “I—Felix, stop.”

“What? It’s true!” Felix grinned, nudging your arm. “I’ve never seen Seungmin so… I don’t know, soft around someone. You’re good for him.”

Before you could respond, Jeongin appeared in the doorway, dramatically wiping his hands on a dish towel. “Felix, come on, you’re next to do dishes. I need someone to witness Seungmin’s embarrassment.”

Felix laughed and stood up. “I’ll be right back,” he told you before disappearing into the kitchen.

Not long after, Seungmin reappeared, his cheeks still faintly pink. He avoided Jeongin’s triumphant look as he crossed the room to sit back beside you on the couch. You smiled at him softly, noticing the way he let out a small sigh of relief now that the teasing was over.

“What was that about?” you asked playfully.

Seungmin shook his head, running a hand through his hair. “Jeongin thinks he’s funny.”

You bit back a laugh. “You’re still blushing, you know.”

He shot you a look, though there was no real edge to it—just a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Seungmin took your hand again, intertwining your fingers. This time, there was no hesitance, no second-guessing.

“You’re worth the embarrassment,” he said quietly, his voice just for you.

And that, more than anything, made your heart flutter.

[thehauntedetheral]

Yandere Boyfriend Jealous of Reader's Nephew

Requests are open !

• You and your yan boyfriend have been in a relationship for quite some time that you are now the ✨unofficial married couple ✨ (Yan bf has proposed many times but you have rejected it because you were to focused on career and pushed wedding ideas for later)

• Your elder sister and her husband has gone to a 2 days weekend trip leaving your 2 years old nephew to you and yan for babysitting.

• You love kids and were having blast with your nephew. After all you are his favourite aunt but your Yan bf is sulking in the corner due to lack of attention you are giving to him. Sometimes you wonder who is a toddler, your nephew or your boyfriend?

• your nephew was sitting in your lap and you both were watching The lion King when your bf sat beside you on couch and took the toddler from your lap to his thinking " I am jealous. This dude is spending too much time with my girl". You looked at him with a confused look while he just gave you a sheepish smile saying "just bonding with my future nephew". Hehe.

• You were saying things like "you are so cute my cutie pie, my sunshine and attacking your nephew with kisses while the toddler just laughs joyously. Meanwhile your boyfriend watching this sighs thinking "I am more cute and good looking than him and yet she is attacking him with kisses instead of me? Such a shame to my handsome face. ( This man is more delusional than all the teenage girls)

• You excused yourself to the bathroom while telling your boyfriend to keep a eye on the toddler. Next thing you know Yan bf has begun a Serious talk with your nephew.

"Listen man, I know she is beautiful and the best. But she is MY WOMAN!! And no. She loves me more!!! Even more than you. I came in her life before. You came later. You can't just take all her time. Just wait a little kiddo because one day I will become your uncle. And you will be the ring bearer in our wedding."

• Desperately waits for this weekend to get over and waiting for your sister to take him back.

• Finally your sister and her husband comes back and take their child while Yan bf finally feels happy you on the other hand are a bit sad.

"Don't worry darling, we will visit him soon" your boyfriend says trying to cheer you up when no way in hell he wants to meet him again atleast for a few months.

"Don't act all innocent. I know you have been sulking and jealous all the weekend. I can't believe you were jealous of a 2 year old that too my own nephew" you said smiling a bit thinking how funny is this.

"Well what can I say I just get jealous of whatever or whoever caughts your attention" he said feeling a bit embarassed that he got caught. He thought he hid his jealousy well. But seems like he can't hide anything from you.

"Hey (y/bf/n). Let's get married and have a baby of our own" you said smiling.

"Is that finally a yes, y/n?" He said while his heart skipping beats and his palms getting covered with sweat for your answer after so many rejections from you.

"Yes. I am damn serious. Spending time with you two as a family has made me realise how badly I want a family of my own. I was too focused on my career neglecting you and our future life. I am sorry." You said with all seriousness.

Yan bf only smiles like a crazy and kisses you passionately. He holds your waist spinning you doing a princess twirl making you giggle. He is the happiest man on earth today! Maybe his nephew is not that bad after all he thought. And yes it's official now your nephew is definitely gonna be the ring bearer in your wedding.

Requests are open!!

For more yandere Reading:

[allthingsfangirl101]

*About Damn Time – Jake Seresin

Warnings: public kink, unprotected, teasing, language

I walked in from training, instantly taking my hair out of my tight updo. I ran my fingers through my hair, well aware of the eyes that followed me through the room. I knew all too well who was watching me. That just made it even more fun.

It was no secret - to anyone - that Jake Seresin had a massive crush on me. I found out after about the third time he scared off the hot guy talking to me at the bar. In fact, no one comes near me because of him. Not that I minded. I only wish he would finally tell me how he felt.

"Lieutenant Y/L/N," Jake nodded as I walked into the auditorium.

"Lieutenant Seresin," I nodded. "You look good."

"We're in the same uniform," he stuttered.

"Relax, Hangman," I said, playfully patting his face. "It's just a compliment. You act as if no one has ever told you how handsome you are."

"You think I'm. . ."

"Don't act like you don't know it," I teased him. To send him over the edge – and to give him a hint– I kissed his cheek before heading over to talk to Phoenix.

"He cannot take his eyes off of you," she laughed as soon as I walked over to her. "That poor boy."

"Hey," I said, putting my hands up in defense. "All I'm doing is flirting and teasing him a bit."

"All you're doing is torturing the man," she said.

"It wouldn't be torture if he did something about his feelings," I shrugged. "It's been 13 months of this. You think he'll finally tell me how he feels about me now that we might be put on different ships?"

"I don't know, sweetie," she shrugged. "I hope he does."

"Me too," I sighed. "Maybe I should just tell him how I feel."

"I thought you said the whole reason you haven't told him is because you wanted to let him be the man and confess his feelings for you."

"I thought so," I mumbled. "But I'm getting tired of waiting for him to finally do something about it."

I walked away, heading to check in. Little did I know that Phoenix was running to the others and coming up with a plan.

* * * * *

After graduation, we all changed out of our uniforms and went to the unofficial party. I ended up showing up a little late and by the time I got there, everything was in full swing.

"There you are, Y/L/N," Jake teased me as I walked in late to one of the other trainee's homes. "I thought you ditched us."

"You know I would never," I smiled as I patted him on the arm as I passed. "I got stuck talking to and taking pictures with my family. They finally went back to the hotel after I promised I'd meet them for breakfast."

"Guess that means you can't get batshit drunk," Payback smirked.

"I never said that," I said, looking over at Jake and sending him a wink. "I'll be right back. I gotta get out of this uniform."

"Aren't you going to help her with that, Hangman?" I heard Coyote taunt Jake as I walked into the bathroom down the hall from the kitchen.

I quickly changed out of my uniform and into the light blue silk floor-length gown. I was about to zip it up when I got an idea. I opened the door, instantly seeing Phoenix.

"Hey, girly," she smiled. "Need help with your dress?"

"I do," I smirked. "Any chance you can push Hangman into the hall?"

She looked into the kitchen and laughed. "Honey, he is hovering around the corner, waiting for you to come out. I'll mention something to him."

"Thank you," I said sing-songy as I closed the door.

I heard as Phoenix mentioned me taking a while getting into my dress. Jake cleared his throat before I could hear footsteps. Just then, I peeked my head out of the bathroom.

"Jake!" I whispered loudly.

"Yeah?" His breath got caught in his throat when he turned around and saw me barely dressed. "What's up?"

"Can you help me zip my dress?"

"Sure," he said, his voice dropping. I carefully held my dress to my chest as I walked out of the bathroom and turned around. "Thank you, Jake," I said, sounding like I was relieved. "I was hiding in the bathroom and thought I heard Phoenix."

I looked over my shoulder to see Jake focused on the fact that I wasn't wearing a bra underneath my dress. "Everything okay, Hangman?"

"Yeah," he said a little too quickly. He slowly reached forward and grabbed my zipper. I hid my smirk when he carefully zipped up my dress.

"All good?" I asked.

"All good," he said, his voice catching in his throat. I turned around and didn't hide my smirk when he checked me out.

"Jake," I said, sounding concerned as I gently reached up and felt his forehead and cheek. "Are you feeling okay? You look kind of flushed."

"I'm fine," he stuttered.

"Let's get you a drink." I grabbed his hand and led him into the kitchen.

"Damn, Y/L/N!" Payback laughed when we walked in.

"Jealous?" I smirked.

"I know someone who might be," Coyote mumbled, hiding behind his beer.

A few minutes later, I noticed Jake off to the side, listening to Fanboy, Phoenix, Bob, and Omaha argue about their fantasy football while I was listening to Rooster and Payback argue about who's got a better time on the track.

"I don't know why you boys are debating this," I scoffed. "Everyone knows that I've held the record for the fastest time since I joined your little training group."

"Y/N, can I borrow you for a minute?" Phoenix asked.

"Sure," I shrugged. "Not like I'm missing anything here."

"You are evil."

"How so?" I laughed. She looked into the living room, toward Jake.

"Do me a favor," Phoenix sighed as she looked back at me. "Please put that poor boy out of his misery and just tell him you feel the same. I can't handle him moping around and watching you from across the room with yearning in his eyes."

"I'm still waiting for him to tell me how he feels," I chuckled, sending her a playful wink.

"Well," she giggled, "let's give him a little push."

She grabbed my hand and pulled me back into the other room. "Whatever happened with that guy from your hometown?" She asked a little too loudly.

"What guy?" Rooster asked, glancing at Hangman whose beer was frozen halfway to his lips.

"No one," I pushed off. "He was an old neighbor, growing up. Apparently, he's here doing his residency and looked me up. He wants to get drinks."

"You gonna go?" Coyote asked, no-so-subtly looking at Hangman.

"Not sure," I shrugged. "He's an old friend, but I haven't seen him in a while. Then again, it's not like there's anyone else with a better offer."

I pretended to see someone trying to get my attention and excused myself. Instead, I hid around the corner and listened to everyone badger poor Jake.

"You good, Hangman?" Rooster laughed.

"Yeah," Payback chuckled. "You look like you're gonna throw up."

"Or kill a man," Coyote mumbled.

"Maybe the guy who's been pestering Y/N to go out with him?" Phoenix teased him.

"You heard her," Rooster smirked. "She'd forget him if she had a better offer. Anyone know of a better offer?"

Part of me did feel bad for teasing him like this. Jake is actually a great guy. He got a bad rap when we first started training. Sure, he's 'Hangman' when we're flying, but he's not actually like that when we're on the ground. He's literally saved me from a drunk creep at the bar on multiple occasions.

I hadn't noticed that they had stopped talking until someone grabbed my wrist and pulled me around the corner. Once they had me against the wall, I saw it was Jake.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I scoffed as I pushed him off of me. "You can't go grabbing people, Seresin."

"I'm sorry," he said, not sounding like himself.

"Are you okay?" I asked, my own tone of voice changing.

"Yeah," he said with a soft smile. "I'm okay. I just needed to talk to you."

"And you thought kidnapping me was the best thing to do?" I taunted him. "There's this thing called a conversation."

My sentence got caught in my throat when he took a step forward, trapping me between him and the wall. I couldn't look away from his eyes as he slowly leaned in. I grabbed his face and closed the gap between us. Our lips instantly started moving roughly in sync as we wrapped our arms around each other.

We both let out moans as he pushed me firmer up against the wall. He broke the kiss and reattached them to my neck. I leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes as he explored from my collarbone to my ear.

"Shit, Seresin," I moaned.

"You've been driving me crazy, Y/L/N," he moaned against my skin. I gasped when he roughly kissed me again. This time, I broke the kiss and rubbed my hands up and down his chest.

"Follow me," I whispered. I grabbed his hand and led him down to the basement. The second we got to the bottom of the stairs, Jake turned me around. As soon as I was facing him, he leaned in and kissed me. I instantly wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.

Without breaking the kiss, Jake picked me up and put me on the counter. He opened my legs and stepped between them. Our lips moved in sync and our tongues danced as we held each other close. I ran my fingers through his hair as he slid his hands up my thighs, bringing my dress with him.

Unable to resist anymore, I roughly pushed him away. I hopped off the counter and landed directly in front of him.

I looked up at him with innocent eyes. "Can you help me with my zipper?"

His pout turned into a smirk when I turned around. He stepped up and dragged his hands up and down my arms. He kissed my neck as he slowly unzipped my dress. I turned around before letting my dress pool at my feet.

"Fuck," Jake moaned. "I knew you were gorgeous under that flight suit."

"You've thought about what I had underneath my flight suit?" I smirked. I reached forward and started unbuttoning his shirt.

"All the time," he moaned as I tore off his shirt.

"Well, good," I said as I grabbed the waistband of his pants and pulled him toward me. "To be honest, I've often thought about what you had underneath your flight suit. Especially when I am alone. . . Late at night. . . Or in the shower."

"Fuck," he moaned again as he crashed his lips onto mine. I wrapped my arms around him as he pulled me into his chest. He backed us up until we collapsed onto the couch. As Jake climbed on top of me. I pulled the waistband of his pants down.

Jake tore his lips away from mine as we finished undressing. His eyes glanced over my bare body before he rolled his body down mine. I arched my back and moaned when his body pressed firmly to mine, smashing all the right parts together.

"Oh Jake," I moaned as he continued to rub his body against mine.

"Fuck, Y/N," he moaned back. "I want you so bad."

"Then take me," I grunted loudly before grabbing his face and bringing his lips down to mine. "Finally take me."

Jake pressed his lips back to mine as we both adjusted. Without breaking the kiss, he grabbed my leg and wrapped it around his waist. I arched my back and moaned against his lips as he pushed himself into me.

"Holy shit," he groaned against my lips.

"Oh baby," I moaned as I bit his bottom lip. He chuckled before focusing back on his hip movements. The more he moved his hips, the weaker mine got. I squeezed my eyes shut as the pressure built.

"Fuck," he swore under his breath. I opened my eyes to see him watching me.

"What's wrong, baby?" I purred.

"Nothing," he stuttered through his grunts. "Just watching your face change as I. . . As I make. . . Seeing the effect I have on you."

I arched my back, bringing my face closer to his. "Just you wait, baby. There's a whole lot more we got to do."

"Fuck!"

I gasped when his movements got deeper and sharper. He kissed my neck as I dragged my hands up and down his bare back.

"I have wanted you for so long."

"And I have wanted you," I gasped, Jake's movements cutting me off.

Our lips reattached as our hips continued to dance. We could hear the party going on upstairs, but neither one of us cared. We only focused on each other; our movements, our lips, our feelings.

"Shit!" I moaned as I reached orgasm.

"Shit," Jake echoed me. He gently pulled out of me but remained hovering over me. "Y/N," he whispered, "there's something I've been dying to say to you since we first met."

"And what's that?" I asked as I snaked my arms around his neck.

"I'm crazy into you," he said, pressing his forehead to mine. "The thought of not being with you literally drove me mad. Now, the idea of someone else getting to have you makes me ready to get kicked out of the Navy."

"Don't do that," I pouted. "Then I'll be all alone."

"I will never let that happen," he whispered.

* * * * *

After going another round, we quickly got dressed and tried to make ourselves look like we didn't just hook up. With matching smirks on our faces, we headed back upstairs.

"And where were you two?" Payback smirked as he folded his arms and studied us.

"Downstairs," Jake smirked, "in the basement."

He grabbed my hand and led me into the kitchen. I winked at Payback and the others.

"Finally," Phoenix chuckled. Rooster laughed as he agreed.

"About time they hooked up."

[senseofnewness]

lovesick!patrick zweig because why not

• when he first saw you at the academy, he knew he had to have you, there was something mesmerizing about the way you moved, running off the court with your racket in hand, your tennis skirt fluttering with each stride, revealing the hem of your shorts that barely covered your perky ass

• sure he was a horny boy and the mere sight of the bare skin of your thighs drove him wild, but there was something so irresistibly attractive about your obliviousness to your own beauty, you were simply playing, enjoying yourself, completely unaware of the effect you had on him

• he finally gathered the courage to introduce himself, seizing upon a stray ball as his excuse, you smiled, a radiant beam showcasing your perfect, pearly white teeth and plump glossy lips, his breath hitched, heart skipped a beat, in that moment he not only stuttered saying his own name but envisioned you moaning it in his ear later on tonight

• at first, the attraction was purely physical, your stunning beauty evident in your little tennis dress that embraced your godly proportions, your long, graceful hair tied back in a tight ponytail, your legs moving swiftly across the court, and your hands gripping the racket so tightly that he longed for his cock to replace it soon enough

• he later found out that you were not only the hottest woman he had ever seen, you were also smart, witty, passionate and caring, you made him laugh with every comment you sent his way when you meet him at the water fountain, your little unofficial meeting place

• he began to perform small gestures to show his affection : fetching extra water bottles for you, offering you snacks during breaks, and even staying late to help you practice your serve, you noticed, of course, and you liked the attention

• one evening, as you confided your doubts about going pro, he struggled to offer encouraging words, relating a bit too much, but hoped the soothing sensation of his hand stroking your arm provided the comfort you needed, while it had the opposite effect on him, he was on fire

• he spent hours talking with you after practice, every night, about your lives, dreams, and desires, feeling closer to you than ever, you were now more than just a crush, he adored everything about you, from the way you giggled to the playful slap you gave him when he flirted a bit too openly

• after some pep talk from art, he decided to make his intentions clearer with you, waiting for you to get changed after practice and grabbing your hand to lead you outside to talk, he confessed he liked you, and you simply answered "why", leaving him at a loss for words as there wasn't any real explanation for love

• he pulled you into a long lingering kiss, a kiss so sweet that his heart shattered a little because he knew something so good could not last forever, "i don't have time to date" you told him, "i can wait until you have time" he assured you

• you didn't have time to date, but you always found time to get yourself cornered somewhere, your arms wrapped around patrick's neck and his hands on the small of your back as you kissed passionately

• hands started wandering and soon, it was getting harder to breath for him when your hands were so dangerously close to his length, almost fondling him, he had been a good boy until now but you're tempting him to be bad

• he went to your matches and you went to his, but he found out rather quickly after a match you couldn't attend that your absence was causing him to lose, his mind filled with questions about your whereabouts instead of focusing on the ball and his racket

• while he knew there was nothing official between you two, you had made it clear, why did it break his heart to see you talk with other men? sure, he did see other girls from time to time to take care of the blue balls you gave him, but weren't you the one with no time to date?

• in the midst of the season, you were excelling while he struggled, and he couldn't help but blame it all on you, he confronted you, pleading for a chance to have you, just once, one night, so he could purge you from his system and return to his former self

• "i'm not fucking you patrick" you said, rolling your eyes at him "why not" he asked, nibbling his lower lip "because i know you like me and you will want more" that was probably true "that's not true. and even if it was, what would be so wrong about it?" you both were attracted to each others and consenting adults "we're both about to go on tour! i need to focus" you sighed, "would i distract you?" he asked, pleased, a smirk on his lips "well, yes" you admitted, a boy was the last thing you needed

• he made you promise to revisit the subject after the tour, you agreed but only on the condition that he would win, you knew he needed the motivation but to be quite honest, you weren't so sure he was still capable of it, so you told him that any match won was a step closer to your 'divine' and 'life changing' pussy and he regained his confidence

• the following week, you both left the state, competing in different tournaments, but kept track of each other’s achievements, true to your promise, you sent him nude pictures after each victory, it began with just your breasts, and now he had a full view of your cunt

• he had looked at the pictures so often that he could swear they were burned into the inside of his eyelids, his post-match routine had turned into an endless session of masturbation, all thanks to your pictures

• thoughts of you lingered in his mind daily, coloring every moment with excitement, when he saw you on tv, his pulse quickened, and a smile effortlessly found its place on his lips, but then he remembered that you were still not his and it was breaking him

• and then he was in town at the same time as you and you gave in, it had been so long and tour was lonely, he was some warm comfort and you missed him, kinda, he knew it, so he gave you his all to prove to you that he was the one for you, the perfect guy to fulfill your needs

• he never felt that before with any girl, with your legs resting on his shoulders while he was ramming into you like a maniac, it all made sense, he felt like he was finally complete, like it was always meant to be, and it felt so good, you came, he came and so it happened again, and again, and again, and again

• he suddenly stopped fucking other girls, he wanted you to know he was serious about you, ready to settle down, get married and have kids, but the truth was that no one would ever be able to make his eyes roll back into his head and his thighs tremble like you did when you rode him

• he didn't want to play anymore, literally and figuratively, so he slowly stopped qualifying for tournaments to focus on you, to come watch your matches, he was always there, making sure you were stretched and hydrated, and he always cheered for you the loudest

• before competitions, you were always so tense and he found out that eating your cunt helped with that, he made it his life mission to make you the most relaxed girl on earth, he spent hours sucking on your clit, and you were, without a doubt, the most delicious meal he ever had

• when you lost matches, he also made sure to be there for you, holding you tight, cuddling you in bed, reassuring you that you were the best player in the world, and he was right, you were, you played with his heart like nobody else, but in those moments, he was pretty sure that he was madly in love with you and you would fall for him too

• he told you, you laughed it off, he told you again, what did he know about love? all you knew was that he was the guy who never grew up and was throwing his career away for a stupid teenage obsession

• you were eating lunch when you asked him "tennis is what you want, right?" he nodded, but the truth was that you were the only thing he truly desired, tennis seemed dull next to you. "you need to focus, you're playing like shit" you tried to be harsh to wake him up but he already knew that, but he could not do anything about it, it was your fault

• all he could do was thinking about you, enjoying the few moments he got to be with you when you were in town, he couldn't even afford to fly over to see you anymore, so he waited for you to come back, and he made sure to fall asleep inside of you each time, that way you would not leave in the middle of the night without saying goodbye

• he was not even a tennis player anymore, he barely played while you spent your time out of state or out of the country winning, sexting with patrick had lost its savour, it used to be exciting but now it just felt like it was holding you back, you were meeting new people and he was still the guy who followed you around like a puppy when you were 20

• years passed and getting back into tennis was hard for patrick, his body was rusty and he lacked motivation, you were not here to coach him to be better anymore, he had not seen you in years, plus, the fact that you had met someone, a tennis player, the kind who wins competitions, not a loser like him, was not helping, so what was the point in trying? he simply didn't know what else to do

• you went on with your life, he watched your radiant smile dazzle him from the TV screen as you held the trophy, a ring on your finger, a bittersweet ache filled him, a reminder of what might have been but never had been

• he mourned the love that slipped through his fingers, much like his career appeared to fade with each passing match, yet, amidst it all, he found a flicker of solace in knowing that you were happy, despite the fact that you should have been happy with him

[writing-in-the-impala]

Secret Smokes (Part 17)

Pairing: Teacher! Remus Lupin x Reader

Series Summary: When the reader bumps into the new DADA professor on the bridge in Hogwarts she begins to build a friendship with him all thanks to their shared feeling of not belonging and love for muggle cigarettes. Their friendship blooms while they both fight internal battles deciding what is wrong and what is right leading to a lot of fluff, angst, flirting and a rollercoaster of emotions.

Warnings: Swearing, smoking, drinking, teacher-student relationship, angst, jealousy, fluff, smut.

Word Count: 2500

A/N: wow she's back? Hello if you're still reading thank you so much, it's been a year since I posted the NYE chapter and it's once again NYE which I consider unofficial Secret Smokes day so I'm back, I can't promise regular updates but I promise the chapters are just gonna get longer and jucier from now on. I plan to make this 20 chapters so the countdown to the end starts now. I've missed you all!

 | SERIES MASTER LIST (All chapters) |

Previous Chapter, Part 17, Next Chapter

Sirius opened the door with a big grin, then you saw surprise, than an even bigger grin. "Y/N!" He exclaimed hugging you.

"Hello." You said in a cheery voice slightly overwhelmed by the greeting.

"I'm so glad you came, Remus you can leave." He said as a joke stepping out the way to let you both in. Remus and Sirius did hug hello after you walked in, it warmed your heart to see Remus loved by someone. You settled in the first floor in the drawing room which had two large sofas a large fireplace flanked by two ornate glass-fronted cabinets, and an entire wall covered with a tapestry of the Black family tree. You sat down next to Remus and Sirius sat opposite you after serving you with tea, he was excited to have you there, giddy almost. "I've been waiting for Remus to finally bring you over so we can chat." Sirius explained as he put an abnormal amount of sugar cubes in his tea. "He says he's worried someone from the order will bump into you but I think he's scared of all the embarrassing stories." Sirius explained, Remus rolled his eyes.

"You know I think you're right, but finally we have the opportunity for you to tell me everything." You replied matching Sirius's energy and shooting him a wink.

"First tell me how did you convince this loser to change his mind as no matter how hard I tried nothing worked."

"I guess I have my ways."

"She's very charming." Remus chirped in.

"Oh is she, tell me more?" Sirius said with a suggestive tone.

"Sirius, get your mind out the gutter." Remus said sternly but still in a friendly way.

"Anyway, those embarrassing stories please." You requested and Sirius's face lit up. Remus shook his head lightly, kissed you on the forehead as he stood up and walked over to the record player in the corner of the room. As Sirius began telling you a story of Remus's prank going wrong in fifth year and ending up with him burning off a part of his eyebrow. Remus flicked through the records and put on one you loved, it was a T.Rex vinyl. "You can actually still see the burn mark here." Remus said as he sat down next to you and you looked closely at his eye brow which had thinner hair in one part, you slowly examined it running your finger over it, sharing a small moment of intimacy. You moved your finger away and chanted "Tell me more, tell me more." Both the guys laughed in response. The tea soon changed to fire whiskey and the stories got juicer. It felt so comfortable sitting relaxing with the two of them. You and Sirius got increasingly drunk while Remus kept his composure however he relaxed more and more. Sirius served you some more whiskey but Remus put his hand on top of the glass signifying he doesn't want anymore and Sirius nodded in response. "Remus you bring me here and you don't even want to join in on the fun?" You teased.

"Don't be offended Y/N. He doesn't drink." Sirius remarked.

"Hm and New years was what?" You poked Remus's side teasingly.

"Correction he doesn't drink unless he's nervous and even then he won't get drunk." Sirius replied and Remus nodded while filling his glass up with some water.

"Well now you're wrong..." you began but Remus shook his head. "He's not. I wasn't drunk. Tipsy and reckless at most. But the last time I was really drunk as James and Lilly's funeral."

"So you kissed me sober?"

"Well under the influence of a little fire whiskey and a lot of testosterone."

"You drank as much as me!" You accused him confused as to how he could've remained sober.

"He's a wolf." Sirius said and howled jokingly. At that moment Remus jokingly made a wild sound before pouncing on you to tease you and pretending to bite you before pecking your cheek.

"Oh Merlin I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically. And you and Remus rolled your eyes. "Y/N do you have any cute friends?" Sirius began.

"Stop it old man." Remus remarked beginning another round of teasing between the two men.

You were laying down on the sofa with your legs draped over Remus's as your back rested on the arm of the sofa, his hand was lightly stroking your leg in a loving manner and the cure played in the background. It was a song you particularly liked and due to the confidence caused from the uncountable glasses of fire whiskey you began to quietly sing along as Remus and Sirius debated something stupid. "I don't care if Monday's blue Tuesday's grey and Wednesday too Thursday, I don't care about you." You sang quietly to yourself under your breath

"It's Friday, I'm in love" Remus joined in quietly almost a whisper, he glanced at you and you both shared a smile as he gently squeezed your leg where his hand was resting.

"Oh you guys are gonna make me throw up, I'm so lonely." Sirius sighed dramatically, making you and Remus blush this time but by this point in the night all sense of embarrassment had left your body and there was enough public displays of affection, then there was a knock on the door downstairs. "Ooo pizza." Sirius said excitedly and jumped up.

"Do you need help carrying it up?" Remus asked.

"No just don't do anything on my sofa while I'm downstairs." Sirius said with a wink.

"I can't promise anything." Remus whispered to you as soon as Sirius left the room. The alcohol was pulsing through your bodies, yours more than his as he hadn't had a sip of alcohol in about a hour, but the ease of the evening made you feel ever so infatuated by Remus. He moved closer to kiss you slowly. "I really care about you." He whispered.

"I care about you too." You whispered back.

"Thank you for coming here with me."

"Thank you for finally letting me in." You whispered back and he pecked your lips once more before going back to sit in the same position.

"I don't know what I was scared of, this is one of the best evenings I've had in a very long time."

"Me too, Sirius is lovely, and funny. I understand why you're friends." You said.

"He's great, I'm lucky to have him."

"And he's lucky to have you."

"You know when I first met Sirius I thought-" Remus began before you heard Sirius arguing with someone. "Hold on-" he said.

"Everything okay."

"Shh." He said and you both went silent. It was two male voices one was Sirius the other was familiar, a low tone and slow speech. You began to hear a quick walk up the stairs followed by Sirius. Remus quickly moved your legs off of him and moved to the other sofa as at the very moment Snape stormed through the door. "What do we have here?" Miss L/N outside school property, drinking. With a Hogwarts professor?"

"Snivellus, why have you stormed into my bloody house?" Sirius walked through the door annoyed.

"Well apparently you're busy drinking with a student."

"Not my student, I'm not a teacher." Sirius said sarcastically, Remus looked angry and frozen you didn't know what to do you just kept looking at Remus for support avoiding eye contact with Snape.

"Lupin, a man with your condition sleeping with students is not very wise." Remus didn't say anything he stood up to say something but at that very moment Sirius spoke.

"Why have you stormed into my house on a Friday evening? To make up some illusions to help your life be a little less miserable?" Sirius walked closer to Snape, it looked like Remus and Sirius were both ready to punch Snape. You had a lump in your throat, you were half expecting to wake up from this nightmare at any moment.

"Dumbledore called an emergency meeting, and if you haven't forgotten this is the headquarters for the order."

"Doesn't justify you walking through my house?"

"I had to check what you were hiding up here. I look forward to hearing how your furry friend will talk his way out of this one." Snape said with a vile tone.

"There's nothing to talk out of, it's Friday evening and I'm having a drink with my friends, shoot me." Sirius snapped, thank god Sirius was here.

"You're awfully quiet." Snape said turning around to face Lupin.

"There's nothing to say, I'm here for the meeting like you are."

"With a Hogwarts student smelling like alcohol?" Snape said accusingly.

"I can't help if she's friends with Sirius or not." Lupin said sitting down and talking another sip of his drink which was luckily water as he acted as if nothing is wrong. You looked down at the floor. Another knock on the door was heard. "Pizza! Snape you're welcome to leave." Sirius said before running downstairs. "Miss L/N I was wondering how your grades went up so quickly-"

"Oh fuck off." Remus slammed his glass on the table, stood up and in that moment Snape was hit with a stunner. He pulled his wand out and Remus disarmed him in a second. At this moment Dumbledore walked into the room, Remus was disarmed and had a look of horror on his face as he knew he had fucked up.

"Gentlemen, please stand up and explain yourselves."

"Well only one isn't standing." Sirius chipped in standing behind Dumbledore looking at Snape on the floor.

"Thank you Mr Black, I am aware." Dumbledore replied.

"I just wanted to say as far as duels go there's an obvious winner." Sirius continued. Remus's eyes were glued to the floor like a school boy who's been told off. "Remus, when you stand like that you remind me of when you were miss L/N age." Dumbledore mentioned shooting you a glance. "Now would you like to explain yourselves as to the disturbance?"

"Professor, I believe I have caught Professor Lupin doing inappropriate activities with a Hogwarts student."

"You believe?" Dumbledore questioned.

"Well yes, they were both alone here smelling of alcohol."

"Excuse me I was here too." Sirius interrupted.

"Therefore they weren't alone." Dumbledore nodded in agreement.

"But Miss L/N is a Hogwarts student outside campus without permission." Snape argued.

"I see she is escorted here with Professor Lupin." Dumbledore said calmly sitting down and pouring himself a drink using wandless magic.

"But they've been drinking." Snape continued.

"Well everyone here is legally an adult and it's Friday night, what else would you expect? Besides I see a glass of water right here." Dumbledore pointed to Remus's glass.

"I'm sorry Professor Dumbledore, but I don't understand how you can be so relaxed about this. We're meant to have a meeting and we find a student drinking with her professor outside Hogwarts grounds how are you allowing this?" Snape kept protesting.

"I do agree that Miss L/N shouldn't have left Hogwarts grounds during term time however she's an adult and thankfully she did have a guardian with her. Unfortunately, I'm sorry Miss L/N Professor Snape does have a point, I'm going to have to give you detention in Professor Lupin's office on Monday for leaving Hogwarts with no notice."

"And you're not punishing the teacher who allowed the student to leave?" Snape asked.

"Well I am making him run the detention aren't I?" Dumbledore asked.

"I can't believe you are so relaxed about this they are obviously involved with each other in some way."

"Whatever may happen outside Hogwarts grounds between adults does not concern me, I have no reason to believe anything inappropriate is happening in the hallways or corridors of Hogwarts."

A knock again on the door. "I hope it's pizza this time." Sirius said in a tired tone as he walked away.

"I'll escort Y/N back to Hogwarts I'm sorry professor." Remus said standing up.

"Perfect problem solved don't you think Professor Snape?" Dumbledore said with a smile. Snape did not respond. "Now let's head downstairs for that pizza." Words you never thought you would hear Dumbledore say. While waking downstairs you saw Sirius thanking the mildly concerned pizza man for it being him this time, it made you finally relax for the first time all evening. Remus walked in front of you without a word, when he reached the bottom of the stairs he simply announced. "I will be back shortly Headmaster." Before grabbing your arm and taking you back to Hogwarts. He walked you to your dorm room, there he spoke his first words to you. "I need to go. I'm sorry." And just like that he turned around and left.

You knocked on Remus's office door the next morning. You were greeted by a tired face and a slouched body, he looked alike the night after a full moon but you knew the next one was still quite a while away.

"Can we talk?" You asked and he nodded stepping aside to let you in.

"Tea?" His words were weak.

"No thank you." You said, not sitting down. "Are you going to loose your job?" You asked blatantly trying to keep a firm and controlled tone.

"No, I don't think so." He said over his shoulder while closing the door and making sure to lock it.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

"I believe he's known for quite a while." Remus ran his hand through his hair.

"But he doesn't care?"

"He made it seem like he doesn't see an issue with it as long as it doesn't affect my teaching or your learning." Remus explained.

"So business as usual? We're okay?"

"No... I'm afraid not Y/N." He said finally sitting down in his chair.

"Why? Everything is okay. Worst case scenario happened and it's all okay." You reasoned standing on the opposite side of the desk.

"Y/N we have flown too close to the sun. I am a fool for taking you there yesterday I put us in danger."

"Remus don't be-"

"I'm not being anything but honest."

"Remus the only issue here is your own fears, and it seems as though the reality is not as bad as you were afraid. Snape knows, Dumbledore knows. And you're still here, I'm still here. You didn't get fired. No one cares, why can't you let yourself be happy this one time?"

"Because when I feel happy, I let me guard down and every time, every single time something bad happens. I didn't want you to go see Sirius because I knew when it happens something bad will follow but I couldn't resist. And just like that not only Snape but Dumbledore and the whole order showed up."

"And we're okay why can't you see that? Neither of us are in trouble don't run away from a good thing when you have the chance to enjoy it."

Remus shut his eyes and rubbed his temple with his hand. No words came.

"I can't keep going through this back and forth, you need to stop hating yourself so much you're being an asshole." You snapped.

"I don't want to hurt you."

"Do you know what hurts me? One day sitting in your office holding your hand and feeling happy, then the next you ignoring me in the corridors, than suddenly listening to vinyls on your best friends sofa to once again you telling me you want to start ignoring me again."

"It hurts me too."

"You have the power to stop it Remus. Just accept that we both like each other and allow it."

"I like you very much you know that." He pleaded.

"You have a pretty awful way of showing it." You confessed allowing your anger to show.

"I'm an old man."

"Ancient." You rolled your eyes. "I don't care."

"Your reputation will be tarnished."

"Tarnish it." You didn't break eye contact.

"I want you to be able to enjoy your youth, live it to the fullest."

"And a high school romance with my teacher isn't living to the fullest? Do you know how many other girls would die to touch you the way I do." His cheeks flushed red.

"The novelty will wear off girl, you'll get bored of me."

"Then let me get bored." You said leaning on his desk in front of him as he stayed sat on his chair. You were looking down at him and he was looking up at you, his legs spread wide under the desk.

"Darling are you forgetting what I am?"

"A hot professor with low self esteem?"

He laughed rolling his eyes and nodding. "A wolf." He made a howling side and grabbed your hips pulling you closer to him so now you were sitting on his legs starring intently into each other's eyes.

"You know very well that I'm not scared of wolves."

"My body is covering in scars." He broke eye contact.

"I know. And I find them all very attractive." You kissed the one on his neck that was peeking over his shirt collar.

"You know there's stigma that comes with dating a werewolf, people don't like people like me."

"Perfect filter for bigots, if they don't respect you, I don't want them in my life. And now Mr are you finished with the self loathing?"

"I've got a little left in me." He said playfully and you crashed your lips into his. "I'm finished we can move on to the part where I show you all the scars I hate."

"Perfect." You began to unbutton his shirt kissing his chest.

64.media.tumblr.com

NEXT CHAPTER | More stuff I wrote

A/N: sorry for the angst I had to do it.

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[artytaeh]

hello. hi! 🌷 do i have your attention now? nice. ♡

because let me tell you something, reader; if you were to date theodore nott, your spot— yours and theo's, the corner of hogwarts that belongs to you, where he doesn't take any other girl and you better not take any other boy, is the astronomy tower.

♡ : SMOKING UNDER THE STARS, as the smoke joins the fog and few clouds seen in the night sky, is a time of the day that theodore enthusiastically awaits— from the moment he wakes up, to the time he falls asleep, tolerating classes with the hope of night arriving at a faster pace. sometimes, theo even uses those classes to sleep; a slumber over the wooden surface of those desks, all for the sake of being able to be fully awake for a few more hours, later when he's with you.

initially, theodore feels somewhat guilty to indulge a new bad habit of yours; constantly fighting with his conscience and that selfishness of his, because theodore longs for the companionship— for a woman that embraces his whole being. not just the attractive part, not just the pleasant lust; to have someone accepting his problems that have those nasty, bad habits as a coping mechanism, a consequence.

when you share a cigarette with him, theodore doesn't know whether he finds it terribly attractive (the sight of your lipstick lingering on the cigarette, where he puts his lips too, an indirect kiss [how childish of him, to think that!]) or if theodore nott should melt in front of you.

a drag from that cigarette you share, is perceived as a gentle try to take a weight from his shoulders. someone willing to listen. to know, to show interest about what breaks his heart, even though theodore is a challenging person to get any kind of personal information from.

theo runs up those stairs as if the dark lord himself was chasing him— he runs with a huge grin on his face, like a bloody child in christmas' morning; however, theodore takes a deep breath, brushes his long fingers through his hair, regains his stoic posture; as if he had taken his sweet time getting there.

as if that hand of his doesn't twitch in excitement to open this damn door, that is keeping you and him at a room of distance.

and when you smile at him, waving with your lighter in hand, one that he has put on stickers and silly doodles for each smoking session together?

theodore nott accepts the fate of his broken heart; pieces melting like butter in a pan, mushing together with hope as glue, daring to slowly put the pieces back together— if someone is capable of mending theo's heart and belief of being a lost cause, it's you.

and all you had to do was listen and smile at him.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : STARGAZING WITH THEODORE NOTT is a must; an unofficial date of yours, even before you started dating. at first, blankets are brought to lay on top of them; because the night wasn't chilly yet. however, when winter approaches hogwarts with snowy days and cold nights, the chance to share a blanket isn't wasted by theo— who nonchalantly wraps his arm around your shoulders, bringing the blanket with him, so your backs and arms are warm with the soft, warm fabric. this nonchalance, this smooth movements of theodore; they're all a facade, because his mind races with prayers that you're not able to hear his heart beating so loudly inside his ribcage.

theodore used to think that winter is a bothersome season; having to wear more layers of clothes, waking up in the middle of the night from the cold breeze (blaise has this irritating habit of leaving windows open to ventilate the bedroom) or because he, unconsciously, kicked the sheets away only to wake up freezing cold.

now, winter is a prayer, is a pleading to the gods or whoever deity brings the snow, the cold, the fog, the rain, the cold wind: "Dio mio, per favore, rendilo freddo come l'Antartide, così posso coccolare la mia ragazza con una scusa!" (God of mine, please, make it as cold as Antarctica, so I can cuddle my girl with an excuse!)

he brings a blanket. why not two? you'd ask one fateful night; theo was thankful for his wit, for that quick tongue of his, because the excuse he found was believable enough.

apparently, mattheo riddle is easily cold; and impolite, too, since he steals some of theodore's rightful blankets to warm himself up.

huh, who'd say that about the dark lord's son. thankfully, hopefully, this white lie will never reach mattheo's ears.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : DEEP CONVERSATIONS ABOUT everything and anything, shouldn't be a surprise for you either. after all, despite his group of friends being constituted by a doberman willing to fight any moving student, a womanizer with a pretty face, mama's boy from the quidditch team and nepo baby gone wrong— theodore nott is an intelligent young man.

and truthfully, as much as theo adores his friends and having a laugh with them... nothing beats these conversations between you two. where theodore has asked you about your philosophy; what do you believe? in your perspective, deities exist? what happens after you die? how are your dreams like? where would you go, if you could go to anywhere in the world? after hogwarts, what will you do— he wants to know your idealistic and realistic plans!

the more he learns about you, the deeper he falls for you, he thinks.

even when you tell him about some silly fear of yours. despite that embarrassment moment that you retold him, making the two of you laugh and almost cough amidst the smoke. those little quirks, even things you'd be ashamed to tell anyone else, your deepest, most secret thoughts...

theodore nott loves them all.

his blue eyes, unfeeling and void of any happiness, soften at the sight of you. theo perceives you as the most perfect being in the world— his Dea.

Dea mia, he calls you in his own thoughts. theodore discovers that he admires your flaws, more than he ever tolerated anyone else's— qualities and good traits can be shared among many people.

but flaws? thoughts, ideologies, habits? that makes you, well, you.

that's what makes his Dea different from other girls of your house. that mole that you find silly, that insecurity that you wished to remove from your body, that habit of yours when you're nervous or when you have to lie— those are so charming to him.

it's charming because it's you, theodore admits to himself one day, when he's smoking alone, already missing you by his side. such a realization makes him sigh.

wasn't love the most terrifying emotion, for a boy who only knew pain and devastation?

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

♡ : HOWEVER, YOU MUST KNOW THAT when something is wrong— be it a stressful day for theodore, a letter from his father, a wave of depression, a fight between you two; he'll be there. on the spot you share, that little secret of yours: the astronomy tower.

he'll be there; be it because he finds a shade of comfort to be there where you've spent time with him once, or because some silly part of him hopes that you'll notice his missing presence, that somehow, you'll read his thoughts and know that he needs you.

even if theodore is angry with you, he'll wait there. unconsciously, of course! i doubt that theo himself rationalizes this habit, of seeking refuge on the place that "belongs" to you and him, as a way to await for the moment where you'll find him, to talk things over.

even if he'll be smoking his lungs out of stress, out of anger, out of sadness, out of hope that maybe if he smokes enough, he'll drop dead with his sorrow.

depending on what he's feeling and the reason why he's there, waiting for you . . .

theo hugs you tightly. of course, such a thing requires a closer relationship with him; even as a friend, theodore will find comfort on you. to have your body inside his arms, to feel your warmth, your scent; suddenly, that hopelessness inside his heart, that void, is filled with love for you. theodore nott doesn't cry; it's weak to do so. what the eyes don't see, the heart doesn't feel— so if he buries his face on your shoulder and you feel your clothes getting wet from tears... well, that might be your imagination. for the sake of his sanity and peace, please, don't comment about it. just hug him back. theo doesn't feel the kindness of comfort ever since his mother died.

theo averts his gaze, taking a drag of his cigarette before opening his heart. this would be a consequence of a stressful day. usually where anger for himself and hatred towards his father subsides to melancholy. an anguished cry of his heart, where theo isn't sure if he's allowed to pity himself or to scream at the world for what he lacked, what he deserved to have during his childhood and teenage years. he'll take to you, eventually— maybe after a cigarette or two. because theodore knows that whatever you talk there, won't leave those four walls. that's how much he trusts you.

theo leans against the window frame, smoking, pretending as if he didn't see you entering the tower and walking towards him. letting you lead the conversation, introducing the topic of that fight between the two of you. as intelligent and witty as he is, theodore couldn't start a sincere conversation about feelings, honesty and vulnerability even if his life depends on it.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

BUT PLEASE, FOR THE SAKE OF EVERYTHING, don't bring another boy there. not to the astronomy tower— to yours and theo's secret place, a silent agreement between you two, that this is a spot, a moment, a deal that is special and exclusive to the other.

after all, before theo can feel sadness, anger will consume him like a vicious virus. fury boils on his blood, spreads through his veins, as jealousy burns on that aching (and fragile) heart of theodore nott's at the sight of his ragazza with someone else.

the silent threat of someone being on his rightful place— oh, that drives him insane.

so, like a child, like an immature and impulsive guy, theodore returns the favor: bringing another girl there. anyone, really; the first one that falls to his feet.

and he'll kiss her there, too. theo's lips show no mercy, roughly kissing that girl that he barely remembers the name, imagining that it's you on his lap— as if he's taking revenge on you for breaking his heart, diminishing the value that theo thought he had. out of spite, he'll bite that girl's lip; making it hurt, almost bleed, when his mind cruelly invades his thoughts with the image of you and that bastard smiling in the astronomy tower.

a place that should be reserved for him.

soon, theo regrets this. as awful as it sounds, he's not particularly worried about that girl's feelings— he's worried about yours. theodore panics at the idea of you finding out, as if he hadn't done this to get some sick sense of revenge, of having his feelings avenged in some kind of way.

and you betrayed this silent agreement first!

nevermind that. theo is terrified that if you find out he did this, then any chance he build up with you, with such effort and daydreams, is crushed by his stupid, impulsive hot-headed behavior of his.

theo genuinely despises the idea of having another woman by his side, on that window frame, touching his pack of cigarettes; lighting them up with a lighter that isn't yours. engage conversation with someone that isn't you, on those nights spent talking and smoking together.

it doesn't matter if you find out or not— theodore shows up at your door, with flowers on his hands; picked by himself, stolen from professor pomfrey's garden. his abandonment issues, the terror of the idea of being alone as he was before he had a glimpse of you, makes the prideful slytherin beg.

and he does. no more games. no more longing gazes that wonder if the feelings are mutual or not.

he wants to be yours. please, be mine. his blue eyes gaze into yours, seeking for the truth of your soul, pleading for a sign that you were meant to be. sii la mia ragazza, non riesco a respirare quando non sei vicino. soffocherò senza di te.

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🪻 ’

the next time you enter the astronomy tower, you'd find that the place had a different tranquility to it. something like little lamps, with a blanket on the floor— facing the window, where the stars shine so bright, as if the universe required such a beautiful starry sky for you and theo only; nevermind the students who are already sleeping, exhausted from the day full of classes.

theo didn't have the time to buy you something; at his command, there were only food and snacks in the castle's kitchen, warm blankets, pillows and two willing best friends to help.

( while lorenzo kept giving suggestions to further increase the romance of this surprise date between the two of you, looking more excited about it than theo himself— well, mattheo riddle lends more than a hand, to make sure that he'd stop hearing such nonsenses about you. every. single. day. from the moment when theo wakes up sighing because of you, eats as he steals glances at your table, rambles about you and dares to avert each topic to your existence. mattheo might sympathize with you— but god, theo is so in love with you, that mattheo's eye starts twitching at the mention of your name. )

it's for the best if you don't make him wait; in those five minutes that he spent waiting for you, theo fixed the blanket to be an inch straighter. two minutes in, and theodore considers changing the position of the blanket and those snacks perfectly pilled up, his mind playing tricks that this blanket is crooked.

and he stresses. as if he'd lose the love of his life because he couldn't put a blanket on a perfect straight position. thirty seconds later, he's fixing the places he put the lamps; checking with an attentive eye if they're symmetrical.

maybe he should have brought a ruler.

because there's nothing else he can fix, theo's critical eye stares at the snacks. some he likes, most of them food that he knows you like.

however, theo is panicking. what if you're suddenly allergic to a food he brought?

does he know how to deal with a person having an allergic reaction?

thankfully, this paranoia spiraling on that genius mind of his reaches its end— the door opens, and you enter the astronomy tower; eyes shining at the sight of that familiar room, now decorated. beautifully decorated. the cherry on top is theodore nott standing there: smiling at you, looking somewhat shy, because theo never really put such an effort for someone.

never cared this much. never loved this much. never craved the approval, never needed the praise from someone of his age.

you spend hours there. if theo was nervous at first, such anxiety dissipates into thin air— the familiarity of being alone with you here, in the astronomy tower, calming his senses, subsiding such a silly nervousness with the happiness of being with you.

you definitely cuddle. and if you two fall asleep there, in each other's arms, probably holding hands, warm between blankets and pillows— well, that's a secret shared between you two.

morning arrives with the interruption of such peaceful slumber; the sunrise bringing too much light for you both. of course, theo walks you to your dorm, even to your room if you let him; saying goodbye with a tender, soft kiss that displays the vulnerability of his stolen heart.

heart that is on your hands. heart that remains with you, as he walks away to his own dorm, already missing you. your scent. your voice. your touch, your warmth.

and even though you'd have to wake up in a few hours for breakfast at the great hall— well, theo still misses you, anyways.

unable to sleep, theo spends those three hours looking at the ceiling. a silly smile on his face, that makes mattheo riddle groan at the sight of this.

god. theodore nott would NOT shut the fuck up for a whole month.

౨ৎ you know where to find me, ♡ ͡

and i know where to look . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

— by far, my weakest work. but it was written in fifteen minutes, so why not post it! as always, you're more than welcome to interact with me + send messages. tysm for the feedback!

the headers + gifs + icons aren't mine. credits to the respective creators ! 🌷

[starlightvld]

Allowances

For @baohanhanesel - happy holidays! Have a little hurt/comfort, MacTavish family Christmas vibes, and Simon beginning to find his place among them (and a bit of sappy romance at the end).

(Also on AO3!)

---

"Dinnae fash, Simon. They're gonna love ye."

Ghost stands perfectly still beside the car as Johnny rounds the boot to step up beside him. They make a pair, with Johnny in a new bright red cable-knit sweater, jeans, and a navy blue knit cap that brings out the blue in his eyes, while Ghost is dressed down in his usual black shirt, black hoodie, and a black medical mask. His faded blue jeans are the only spark of color, as old and worn as Johnny's are crisp and new.

If he were a better person—a better partner—he would've worn something nicer. As it is, he's a split second away from turning around and disappearing into the Scottish twilight. The only thing keeping him rooted in place is—

A warm hand slips into his hoodie pocket and curls around his balled up fist. Ghost sucks in a deep, slow breath, and as he exhales, he releases the fist to clasp Johnny's hand palm to palm.

It terrifies him, the comfort a single touch can give. He knows how easily comfort can turn into soul-wrecking pain. Yet he clings to Johnny's hand with the kind of desperation Price would no doubt find concerning for a whole host of reasons.

"We dinnae have tae go inside," Johnny murmurs. "I can call mam from here and—"

"'M not gonna melt, Johnny. Just... gimme a minute."

He's already ruined Johnny's Christmas enough by bowing out of the actual holiday. But the aching despair of the anniversary always winnows him down to his basest self. Even three days later, he feels hollowed out and cold, his sole point of warmth the callused palm and strong fingers clinging to his as they huddle closer against the chill winter air.

Johnny doesn't know the sordid details, but he knows enough about special ops life to fill in the blanks. Every operator has their demons. Simon Riley's are just a little more harrowing than most.

At least the MacTavishes like to celebrate the winter season all the way through New Year's. Or so Johnny says. Ghost suspects the post-holiday get-together might be an allowance made specially for him, but he's certainly not going to ask about it. So here they are, standing in front of Johnny's childhood home outside of Glasgow, store-bought biscuits in hand, while a multi-colored glow spills through the frost-edged glass into the rapidly darkening outside world. It beckons them inside with the promise of warmth and joy and all the other things those trite holiday cards claim for the winter season.

Ghost doesn't move.

The blinking Christmas lights taunt him through the front window. Memories loom from the dark corners of his mind and threaten to upend the one thing he desperately wants to give Johnny—time with his family.

He takes another deep breath, taking care not to let the exhale shudder on the way out.

He's only met Emma and Grant MacTavish twice in passing at Johnny's medal ceremonies for Las Almas and then for the Chunnel op. The latter medal, a Victoria Cross, was officially for exceptional heroism in the line of duty and unofficially for assisting in the dismantling of a major bomb threat and taking down Makarov with a well-aimed stab. He and Johnny weren't in a relationship then, and even if they had been, it would've been inappropriate to mention it on base. Even so, he remembers the overflow of unearned gratitude in Emma's blue eyes—exactly like Johnny's—as she wrapped both of her warm hands around his and thanked him for keeping her boy alive.

The words still ring hollow as he thinks about Johnny collapsing on the cold concrete after clipping that final wire with Price.

He almost died in Ghost's arms that day, and Ghost hasn't been the same since. For one, he kissed his subordinate in the hospital the instant he thought Johnny was coherent enough to remember it and hasn't stopped kissing him since.

Completely unprofessional.

And utterly worth it.

With a final deep inhale and slow exhale, he straightens his shoulders. He can do this. Even if it makes his stomach cramp and his palms sweat with anxiety and the Christmas decorations seem to taunt him with memories of a family forever lost to him.

For Johnny, he can do this.

"Alright," Ghost murmurs—more to himself than to Johnny—as he slides their clasped hands from his hoodie pocket and pulls him toward the door.

It opens before they can knock, flinging brilliant light, excited conversation, and upbeat music into the night air. Emma MacTavish greets her son with a wordless exclamation of joy as she throws her arms around him in a tight hug. Somehow, Johnny manages to return the hug and answer rapid-fire questions about their journey all without letting go of Ghost's hand. Cold air pricks at the exposed skin around his medical mask, but Ghost is too focused on processing and cataloging every detail to acknowledge the physical discomfort.

Johnny looks more like Emma than he does Grant, sharing those bright blue eyes, dark hair, and a brilliant smile that could melt a glacier. Peas in a pod and, according to Soap, often partners in pranking crimes. All Ghost can see is warmth and light—pouring from her, from Johnny, from the home that was never riddled with suffering and people whose lives were never cut short by an evil too insidious to anticipate.

When Emma pulls back from Johnny, she keeps her hand curled around his bicep as she turns the full power of her warm gaze on Ghost.

"And Simon—may I call ye Simon?" Emma asks.

"Yeah," Ghost replies before clearing his throat and adding, "Hello, Mrs. MacTavish."

The smile she gives him sends a shock of pain through his chest even as a flood of comfort flows in behind to sooth the ache.

It's kind. Compassionate.

Motherly.

And it's directed at him.

It gets worse—or better?—when she reaches out to gently clasp his bicep too, connecting the three of them in a circle of touch. As if he's somehow a part of this world. As if he deserves a second chance at family despite dooming his own. The connection is both suffocating and freeing, as if he's taking his first breath of fresh air in years all while a boulder crushes his chest.

She squeezes his arm, and her smile widens into something familiar. Maybe a bit teasing, too.

"Call me Emma, love. I'm so glad yer here. Both of ye. Now, come in out of the cold, will ye? My bones are already aching."

Ghost flounders as the onslaught of pain and comfort slices straight through the layers of armor he's built up through the years, exposing his soft insides.

He wants to fall into the touch.

He wants to run away.

He meets Johnny's gaze, and the softness and understanding he finds there is a balm to his spiraling emotions. Despite everything inside screaming at him to shut down, to not let anyone else into that secret part of him that Johnny breached with the ease of a demolitions expert, Ghost is helpless to do anything but follow Emma inside.

For the first time since he lost his family, he dares to let himself hope.

-

Hours later, Johnny pulls Ghost into bed with a gentle hum, guiding his head to rest on his chest. The heavy thud under Ghost's ear is like scissors to a puppet's strings, snipping the tension away and leaving him boneless and overwhelmed.

"Alright?" Johnny murmurs in his ear before pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his head.

"Not made of glass," Ghost grumbles.

Johnny knows him too well to take him seriously, even now. "Nae, yer made of sterner stuff. Gunpowder, madness, and pure spite."

"Spite can be motivatin'. Just ask any of the rookies who've had me for drills."

Johnny hums a laugh, and Ghost presses his ear harder into Johnny's chest to catch every vibration. Fingers trail through his hair, and he sighs.

"How shite was that, scale of one to ten?"

"What?" Johnny mumbles, his lips once again pressed to the side of Ghost's head.

"How bad an impression did I make?"

A hand grasps his hair to gently tip his head up. Their eyes meet, and the genuine confusion in Johnny's expression gives Ghost hope.

That he didn't fuck everything up. That Johnny's family won't try to convince him to stay away from Ghost.

"Mam was absolutely charmed, Ghost. I think she'd adopt ye on the spot if she could."

Ghost blinks. He replays the evening in his head—from the homemade dinner to the impromptu after-dinner sing-along between Johnny and his niblings to the softer conversation between the adults once the children had crashed. He can't think of anything he did to warrant such a reaction. In fact he barely talked at all, content to let Johnny answer questions for both of them and only interjecting when someone spoke to him directly, which happened rarely enough that Ghost was positive Johnny had asked them to make allowances for him. He both hated and loved it—hated that it made him feel weak, like he couldn't handle himself or his emotions, but loved that Johnny was clearly thinking about him and ensuring he would be as comfortable as possible.

He doesn't deserve it. Doesn't deserve Johnny at all if he's being honest with himself. The man is too good—all righteous fire and burning passion. But with that honesty comes the acknowledgment that he's far too selfish to ever give Johnny up.

At this thought, a faint memory surfaces of Emma's soft look when Ghost wrapped his arm around Johnny's shoulders as they settled on the couch. It's how they always sit when on leave because they can't risk it on base. Ghost loves the feeling of their bodies melding together, a line of heat at his side and Johnny close enough for Ghost to mumble inappropriate comments, bad jokes, and blush-inducing innuendo into Johnny's ear.

Apparently Emma MacTavish thinks it's a good thing, too.

"Well. Good then?"

Johnny hums another laugh, making Ghost's cheek buzz. "It is good, love. Very good." He tightens his arm around Ghost's shoulders. "Thank ye for coming with me."

Ghost swallows. Despite their solid relationship status, they haven't exchanged more than joking admissions of their mutual attraction. He feels the lack all the more as the worst of his holiday malaise falls away in the face of so much care and affection. Something wiggles loose in his chest, a sensation of free falling as his lips form words he hasn't said since before Roba took his family from him.

"Thought you woulda figured out by now that you've got me wrapped around that trigger finger of yours." He swallows. Takes a shaking breath. "You're the only thing alive in this world that I love."

Johnny stills under him. Even his chest is unmoving, breaths locked up with a quick inhale.

And then it all comes out in a rush.

"Simon... d'ye mean tha'?"

And though it means losing the comforting thud of Johnny's heart in his ear, Ghost answers by leaning up, gripping Johnny's chin with his fingers, and pressing a soft kiss to slack lips. When he pulls back, Johnny is staring at him, tears welling in his blue eyes and a wide grin replacing his shocked expression.

"Love ye, too, ye big bastart," Johnny whispers before diving in for another kiss.

And maybe it's not perfect in an objective sense. Maybe he still misses his family and what could have been. But in this moment—with this man and his gracious family who went out of their way to make him feel welcome—it's the closest to perfection he's ever been.

[angelcent]

𝟑:𝟎𝟏𝐀𝐌

summary. toji comes home late at night from a job. he reflects on his love for you.

tags. established relationship, modern au, hitman!toji, fluff, introspection, toji is in love and can’t believe it, oral sex (f.recieving), suggestive. wc.2k+

note. based on my fic series, but can be read as a standalone. the reader and toji are unofficially engaged. inspired by rainy nights & gymnopedie. re-posted <3

toji regrets passing on the umbrellas strategically placed outside of the 24 hour Family Mart in the pouring rain. the fabric of his worn black jacket practically seeped into into his shoulders, weighing him down. there'd be a storm tonight, no doubt.

his phone died before getting on the last bullet train to tokyo so he hadn’t expected the sudden onslaught of rain. the weather greeted toji like a whirlwind when he stepped out the train—sharp and unforgiving against his sore muscles. 

still, he was too preoccupied with getting home, barely giving the umbrella stand a second glance as he made his way through kabukicho. the red light district was busy despite the weather and late hour; people crowding clubs and bars to escape the cold. even the hostess girls and scammers have retreated from the rain.

toji ignored it all, practically dragging himself through the narrow neon lit streets. his shoulders were heavy and sunken with the fatigue of a weeks long job, but toji was solely focused on getting back home.

to you.

he knows this neighborhood more than any other; knows all the restaurants that give shady men like him good discounts and the illegal gambling rooms hidden amongst ordinary establishments. he knows exactly where to pick up women that are eager to give him a good time with no consequences.

all of his past vices are right at his fingertips, so close that he can easily imagine blowing through his entire payment in a few hours. but none of this calls to him anymore, though. there's nothing in these fleeting excitements that draw him in. he's a man with a future now.

the apartment is pitch black when he enters, save for the glow of the small nightlight plugged into the genkan, only ever on when you’re expecting him in the early hours of the night. the soft orange glow greets toji home like the kiss of your loving sunlight—a sweet reminder of your consideration. it softens some of the violence that remains inside of him after a contract that ends, with bloody hands being scrubbed clean inside a motel bathroom.

because a bastard like him somehow found you in the turbulent shitstorm that was his life. toji fushiguro found another kind soul who loved him and kept him close to their heart. you were the angel who healed his wounds with your bright laugh and reminded him that good things were still possible despite all that’s happened. to him, you represented a future that didn’t end in sorrow and bloodshed and loneliness.

the downpour was muted through the building, thumping heavy against the rooftop. the frigid breeze no longer reached him. it was comfortably warm inside.

removing his jacket and shoes, he made his way through your shared shitty 1K—a one room studio apartment with a kitchenette and not much else. one could say this place was his home, but toji’s home was anywhere that you or megumi resided in. in the kitchenette was the sink and a small counter space with a microwave on top. beside it was the fridge and stuck to it with a miffy magnet was a post-it that read: 

left some shogayaki for you, it’s in the blue container! the sencha is in the cabinet. drink some to warm you up! wake me when you’re back ♡

cute. actually, the soft kitten snores that reached his ears were even more adorable.

the rain pattered against the balcony door as he stopped by the bed tucked into a corner. this place was too cramped for a man like him, let alone a couple and occasionally a child. toji couldn’t wait to get the fuck out of here, to give you and megumi a home that you deserved. to be done with this shady lifestyle.

you stirred as the bed dipped with his weight. “t’ji?”

“hey babe,” he murmured, softer than he intended. softer than he ever felt capable of. the storm outside continued on, now raging on the streets of tokyo. “just got back.”

i’m home. fuck, when did the tides inside of him calm? 

toji's lips curl up as your small hands blindly felt up his arms and chest with a dubious hum. because you don’t fully know just how cutthroat he is when he’s not being your boyfriend. your soon to be husband. “mm. you’re ok? not hurt?”

half asleep and you’re still fussing over him. the devotion and sweetness of your love made his teeth ache sometimes. it took all of his sins and washed them away like the storm just outside the window. now, toji was a softie who turned down risky jobs despite the big paychecks that they promised. 

all because he had a girl and a son to come home to.

“who do ya think i am?” toji scoffs, pinching your nose between two thick fingers. he tugged gently, grinning at your lazy swats in retaliation. you reminded him of the kittens at the cat cafe that you had gone to when you first began dating. “hm? have some faith in me. i always get the job done just fine, no big deal.”

smacking his hand away with a grunt, your palm curled over his cold nape to pull him down for a kiss. in the dark of the room with the moonlight blanketed by dark clouds, his lips blindly met the corner of your mouth instead. huffing a soft laugh, you turned slightly to give him a proper kiss.

it’s something you always insist on, to give him a welcoming kiss home no matter what hour he returns. he thought it fuzzy and clingy at first, a testament to your almost decade age difference, but the gesture has grown on him.

toji hums low in the back of his throat, pressing you back against the bed with the weight of his much larger body. his tongue slips into your mouth, tasting the minty mouthwash from the hundred yen store down the street. your body unconsciously adjusts for him, allowing him to pin you down fully the way he's done so many times. his hand settles over the curve of your waist, and the little whimper you let out has him reaching down to unbutton his pants.

before he can do so, you let out a shaky gasp and pushed him away. albeit reluctantly. “wait! go shower first, you stink!”

toji scowled. “tch. no I fuckin’ don’t, you little brat. the motel had a bathroom.”

“yeah, and the stuff there is crap ‘cause I can tell you smoked. you didn’t take the travel kit i made for you! i spent all day in shibuya looking something you wouldn’t hate only for—”

flipping the blanket over your face, toji got up with a groan. he ignored your muffled curses. “fine! i’ll go take one, shit. what a fuckin’ moodkiller.”

dodging the pillow you threw towards his back, he allowed himself to smile at your continued cursing. the kansai accent and slang always slips out when you’re upset and it’s the cutest fucking thing. he doubts you’re even aware of it so it’s just for him to enjoy.

a quick hot shower later, toji wiped at the foggy mirror. looking at his reflection, he allowed himself to settle into the tranquilty of the apartment. the edge of a job released with the sigh he let out. he came to terms with the fact that the blood would never wipe clean from his hands. no matter what, toji was tainted with the death of more than he could count. 

he still didn’t care that the lives that he took were worth nothing more than horse races, cigarettes, tokens, cigars, and petty material possessions. it was a life that he felt shackled to—choked down into. 

but outside the small bathroom door was his salvation. 

emerging from the bathroom in only sweatpants, toji found you standing in the kitchen. your back was faced towards him, taking something out of the microwave to place on your miniscule countertop. the small space smelled of pork and ginger; you had gotten up to heat up his dinner. it wasn’t until he met you that he realized how small gestures could contain so much love. 

toji walked towards you, taking a quick glance at the clock against the wall that read 3:01am. is this considered an early breakfast, then?

unable to resist, he wrapped his arms around you from behind, gently pulling you against his broad chest. you didn’t mind this, instead humming contently and settling back against him while you stirred his food. it was all so comfortable and familiar; it’s something he’s done hundreds of times now. toji placed a kiss at your temple, soothed by the scent of your coconut shampoo and jasmine body wash. generic products that countless women in tokyo could be found wearing, yet they were something novel and fresh on you. it was something he couldn’t get enough of.

in fact, he could never get enough of you.

“did ya miss me?” toji crooned into the shell of your ear, taking your lobe between his teeth to suckle on. your responding whimper had his gut tightening in arousal. “'cause i missed you. you’ve got no idea how badly, babe. these long jobs almost aren't worth the fuckin’ money anymore.”

a sigh escaped your lips as you gave him more access to kiss down your jaw and neck, leaving little nips. "mmm, i missed you every single day. i even started missing seeing your dirty clothes all over the place."

"that so?" toji hums in amusement, giving your hips a slow squeeze. the stirring in his gut only grows at your proximity. the softness of your skin, the delicious sounds you make, how small you feel beside him.

perfect girl. his perfect girl.

"mhm, it was lonely without you," a shiver crawls up your spine at toji's big hands caressing you. you mutually find each other irresistable, often unable to stop once you've begun. "but you should eat first...we have all day tomorrow to..."

you trail off when toji licks up your neck, feeling a familiar bulge at your backside.

“I had to listen to you play with that sweet cunt through the shitty burner phone,” he grunts into your ear. back in that motel he had stroked his cock alongside your moans, filling his ears with the sounds of your wet pussy. you were so needy and slutty that night, whining filth into the phone while he was cities away. “c‘mon, baby. all you’ve gotta do is sit on my tongue. lemme taste how much you missed me.”

he's playing with your tits now, kneading the soft flesh in his big rough hands. the way you take your lower lip into your mouth tells him all he needs to know. toji sinks to his knees, pushing your hips to rest against the counter as he pays his respects to your sweet cunt. his hands slide the shirt—his shirt—up to expose more of your soft skin to him. plush thighs begging to be bitten into, cute comfortable underwear, smooth belly and a peek of your bare tits.

the rain outside faded into the background, becoming nothing more than a backdrop. toji absently thought of the people he had seen out in the streets; who were nothing but props in this moment. this moment was suspended in time between your bated breaths. the world blurred around him, leaving only you in his line of sight. 

greed has been a companion throughout his life, one that he welcomed with open arms. he's been selfish and quick to give into indulgence, but none hold a candle to you. none had his blood buzzing in his veins the way your body did. that soft and gorgeous body of yours, that cunt that squeezed him so well...

toji smirked, taking notice of the small wet spot over your soft cotton underwear. it made his mouth water, the taste of your cunt ever present in his mind. he rubbed a thumb over your mound, light enough to tease. your breath hitched slightly, sensitive for him as always. “tsk, tsk. don’t know why you try and pretend like you’re not aching for me. look how wet this cunt is, baby.”

he continued on, pressing into your clit until you begin to squirm and beg under your breath. but he wants to get back at you a little for messing with him with that phone call, so he focuses on your clothed pussy. pressing his nose over your mound, toji inhales deeply with a broken groan. when you shyly try to close your thighs, his hands grip around the soft flesh to keep them apart, throwing one of your legs over his shoulder to keep you comfortable.

"smell so fucking good," he whispers, licking up the damp cloth to where your pubic hair would begin. the thin fabric is growing more wet against his mouth, and soft curses are spilling from your lips. "gonna devour you."

when your body begins to sink down against him, that's when toji knows to hook a finger over the side of your underwear and show him what he's been thinking of day and night. your pussy is gleaming wet for him, lips puffy and begging to be kissed.

eating your pussy is the final welcome home after a long job—he spreads your lips apart to spit at your hole before going in and licking your mixed juices back up. makes sure you’re nice and pliant for him before he slides a thick finger in, nice and slow.

your smaller hand fisted in his midnight hair, pulling every time he suckled on your clit. he groaned in response, silently urging you to tug harder. rougher. to pull his hair back only to shove his face back into your cunt.

if it were up to him, he'd suffocate between your soft thighs and die a happy man. his grunts vibrated against your skin, only making you hotter knowing how much he enjoys eating your pussy. the flat of his tongue licks up your twitching hole, gathering your juices before suckling on your puffy clit.

it all felt insignificant inside of this apartment. he was alive and well, much more than someone like him could ask for. because a man who kills for a living never quits counting his days. for so long he was accustomed to rising in the morning, resigned with the fact he may not live to see the sun dip below the horizon.

except that this morning his first thought had been wonder if she got some more razors for me. it was so horrifingly domestic that it gave him vertigo. you had, in fact, gotten him more razors. for toji, life was no longer about surviving—now it was about making it through his hardships and planning a future. and you were always at the center of his thoughts when he envisioned the future. it was your stubborn optimism that made him believe in it, after all.

toji feels your thighs quivering just before you begin grinding over his face frantically. his cock is leaking through his sweats, aching to be touched. but his needs come second to yours, and isn't that fucking wild? the thought still baffles him a year later—the knowledge that he wants you coming all over his tongue before he even takes his dick out.

and when you start mewling and gasping and losing your rhythm, he growls into that heaven and urges you to soak him in your pleasure. his fingers are fucking in and out of your tight hole while he makes out with your clit, knowing the exact moment when you come. your cunt clenches around his fingers before clear liquid comes out in spurts over him, drowning him in your juices.

"fuck, fuck fuck," he moans in between, drinking you up like a man starved. "keep going, baby. give it to me, give it all to me."

up in the clouds, you nod along absently, using his face to ride out your high. without thinking, you allow yourself to slide down the counter because you know that toji always catches you. he already expects your limp arms to wrap around his neck as he hoists you up to take you to bed.

kissing blindly against his throat, you begin gaining your senses. "still not gross, right?"

“pfft, look how fuckin’ hard I am for you.” toji scoffs, settling you down onto the mattress to fully remove your underwear. you whimper when your eyes meet the outline of his drooling cock. “I should kill the asshole that made you think that way, huh?”

you're still insecure about what you've done and it makes no sense to him. he finds it so attractive and exciting to see you unravel like that for him. still, because he's fucking soft, he always reassures you no matter how many times you need. his words are gruff and blunt but you appreciate it. your kindness and acceptance healed his remaining wounds, giving him a place to lay his head.

just as you’ve helped him work through his past, he’d do the same to you.

toji took you apart on your shared bed, your sweet moans and whines muffled by the storm that continued raging on into the early morning. sopping wet and aching to be filled, your cunt opened up for him perfectly. your gasps of toji, toji, toji, made him hazy enough to pray to gods he’s never believed in.

the cash that weighed down his jacket pocket meant nothing to him. it was merely a means to relieve his debt and nothing more. none of that would compare to the feel of your body against his in the dead of night—keeping you warm. the embrace of his future wife tethered toji to the earth. love was a peculiar thing.

[hazbinshusk]

day seven of salem's unofficial attempt at kinktober: sleepy sex (huskerdust x afab!reader)

+ + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +

You stir slowly as you feel the mattress shifts behind you, lifting your head reluctantly from Husk’s chest. His arms are banded loosely around you; the bartender is purring softly, his tail wrapped around your thigh where they’re stretched out beside his. A soft series of oinks catch your attention, banishing some of the sleep-induced confusion clinging to your brain. “Angel?”

The spider straightens from where he’s pulling off his boots, giving you a small smile over his shoulder before he turns back and bends down to dote quietly on Fat Nuggets. You smile softly as you listen to the piglet’s happy snuffling before he trots back to the pile of cushions that you’d arranged in the corner for the nights Angel is stuck late at the studio.

Angel climbs into the bed behind you, a cool rush of air making you shiver as he lifts the blankets to slip beneath them with you and Husk. “Hey, sugar. Miss me?”

“Always,” you murmur, smiling as Angel slips his arm around your middle, pressing himself up against your back. He slides another arm over to touch Husk’s hip, carding his fingers into the fur there. The bartender’s purrs double as though he can sense that his other partner has finally joined the two of you. “Is it a talk about it night?”

Angel shrugs, burying his face against your hair. The soft expanse of silky fur against your back tells you Angel has stripped down to his underwear – apparently too wiped to bother with his pyjamas – and you settle yourself back against Husk’s chest. “Did ya wear him out?”

You breathe a quiet laugh, stretching up to press a kiss to the underside of Husk’s jaw. He shifts slightly, his nose twitching. Husk turns his head to bury his face against the top of your head, and Angel smooths his hand down over the cat demon’s thigh. You feel the spider shift his face against your hair, and you can picture the way he’s bringing his nose up to brush against Husk’s.

“We were waiting for you.”

Angel coos playfully, releasing your waist to tuck hair away from your neck. “Aww, toots, ain’t you sweet?”

You can’t help but giggle as he gives your neck a teasing, biting kiss, raising your shoulder in hopes of warding him away. Angel echoes the sound, his laughter doubling as his runs a hand up to tickle against your side and you elbow him in retaliation.

“You two mind?” Husk’s sleep-rough tenor sounds in the near-dark, a red wine chord to match the bloody light staining the far wall from between the curtains. “Some of us are tryin’ to sleep.”

“Aw, Huskie, you’re up!” Angel grins, swinging a long, long leg over you and bringing himself up to straddle the bartender’s waist. The cat rolls his eyes in tired amusement, one hand coming up to smooth up over Angel’s thigh, claws dishevelling the fur. His other paw catches hold of your hand and squeezes it. Husk presses a kiss to your forehead, and while his purr has diminished now that he’s awake, you can still hear the softest of trills beneath his words.

“I am now.”

“Our girl here said you held out for me all night,” Angel tells him, running all four of his hands through Husk’s chest fluff. “Is that true?”

“Maybe I was jus’ tired.” Husk suggests, a smirk playing at the edge of his mouth.

“Well, now I’m offended,” you joke, and Husk hums sympathetically, turning his head to bring his mouth to yours. You smile into his kiss, tongue meeting his and enjoying the way he moans quietly into your mouth as Angel’s hands travel over his body. His upper hands tease at the cat’s chest and ear, the lower two scratching their nails down over his hipbones.

“Mmm…” you hum happily as Husk withdraws. “Forgiven.”

“’ppreciate it, doll.”

“Don’t let him off that easy, sugar,” Angel tells you, bending down to take Husk’s lips for himself. You watch them kiss, the way Angel arches his back and Husk leans up into the embrace making butterflies swirl in your stomach. The spider grinds down over Husk’s lap, and the other man groans into his mouth. “You won’t believe what kitty here’ll do if he thinks ya mad at him.”

“Don’t give her ideas,” Husk retorts playfully. “Don’t need the two o’ you teamin’ up on… Christ…”

Husk lets his head fall back as Angel manages to push his briefs down and wrap a delicate hand around Husk’s cock. He pumps it slowly, letting his thumb tease over the head of it with each stroke of his fist. Angel raises his hips over Husk’s, grinding his ass down against him as his hand reached the base of his cock and squeezes.

“Oh, fuck…” Husk’s paw tightens around your hand, and you roll onto your stomach to press yourself into his side. You kiss up along his throat, lingering at the corner of his jaw. “Fuuuck, baby…”

“Which one?” you murmur with a grin, leaning up to dust kisses over his cheek and muzzle. “Careful how you answer: you don’t want to offend anyone.”

Angel snickers, following your lead and bending down to press kisses over Husk’s neck. He continues lower, sliding down the other demon’s body to mark it with soft bites that leave damp marks alone his fur. “That’s more like it, toots.” he smirks, teasing warm breath over Husk’s twitching, stone-hard cock.

“You two are gonna be the second fuckin’ death of—”

Husk moans, throaty and loud, as Angel takes him deep into his mouth.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Watching the two of them move together is like poetry; the way Angel arches his back when Husk thrusts up to meet him, the way Husk’s large hands encircle the spider’s slender hips. Whenever you pull away from Husk’s mouth to catch your breath, you find yourself distracted by the way they look together, the soft, high-pitched little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’, Angel lets out each time he sinks back down on Husk’s cock.

Husk’s mouth teases over your neck dazedly, the rough line of his tongue making you shiver. He kisses your throat, your jaw, the shell of your ear… teeth grazing over your skin wonderfully. Angel’s holding your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours. Two more of his hands are braced against Husk’s chest, the fourth playing with the fur over his hipbone.

“He’s so pretty,” you murmur admiringly as you watch Angel ride your partner, squeezing his hand affectionately.

Husk nods into your throat, breath warm against your sensitive flesh. “Both…”

“How’s he feel, Husk?” you ask quietly. “Tell me how he feels.”

Husk groans brokenly as Angel rolls his hips pointedly over his; the porn star smirks down at the two of you at his reaction. A purr rumbles through Husk’s chest, his hand finding your breast. He squeezes it, teasing your nipple with his thumb. Your breath catches at the sudden sensation. “Fuckin’ good…”

“Is that all?” Angel’s sarcasm is ruined by the way his voice shakes, and when Husk wraps his other hand around Angel’s cock, the spider moans. “Fuck, Husk…”

Husk is shaking, his tail thrashing against the sheets. You bring his mouth back to yours, kissing him in a long, languid embrace. “It’s okay, baby,” you promise him quietly, speaking against his lips. “You don’t have to hold out for me.”

“Doll…”

“Look at Angel,” you tell him. The other sinner is riding him at a disjointed, eager pace, his head falling back and his mouth open in near-silent moans. His eyes roll back when you reach up to scratch your nails through the fur of his inner thigh. “He’s so close, Husk…”

“Christ…”

“You feel so good inside him, baby,” you continue, raising your voice just enough for Angel to catch your words. “He wants to feel you cum inside, feel you fill him up…”

Angel moans, nodding desperately. “Please, Huskie…”

“Cum for us, Husk,” you urge him, and Husk whines as your breath tickles against his ear. It flicks automatically, his hips rising off the mattress to fuck himself deeper into Angel’s tight hole. “Come on, baby, let go. We want you to… I want to hear how good you two sound when you cum.”

Angel’s still pleading, repeating ‘please’ over and over again as he hunches forward, his body shuddering as he sits on the knife’s edge of an orgasm. His voice is high-pitched and reedy, his eyes heavily-lidded as he watches the two of you. “God, fuck, Husk, please… I wanna… fuuuuck…”

You kiss Husk’s muzzle, press another to the base of his ear. “Cum for us, Husk.”