#this was supposed to be a drabble :)

[aisiedaisie]

Mon Cher

Summary: Vampire! Sirius is looking for his next meal after his only in to the local blood bank ghosts him. Thankfully, it’s spooky season, and what better disguise than his own skin? With parties filled with costume wearing people, blending in has never been easier. But soon after walking into this one random college party, Sirius finds something far, more tempting than a blood bag.

Pairings: Wolfstar

Tags: Vampire AU, immortal Sirius Black, mentions of blood, alcohol, smoking and the like, definitely not proofread-

Notes: This idea has been plaguing my mind since I woke up the other morning.

Word count: 4.8k

"Fuck." The curse slipped from Sirius’s lips, sharp and venomous, just as his battered phone slipped from his hand and hit the floor with a dull thud. The noise was loud enough to rattle the thin walls, sending his downstairs neighbors into a fit of retaliation—fists pounding against the ceiling, muffled shouts of "Shut the fuck up!" and "Be quiet!" slithering through the cracks. But Sirius hardly registered their irritation.

His mind was in a frenzy—racing yet stalling, stuck in an endless loop of buffering, trying to wrap his head around why the number he dialed led only to the grating beeps of disconnection.

He was furious. 

Rightfully so. 

Peter had vanished, seemingly evaporating into thin air. His calls went unanswered, the line dead, leaving Sirius stranded in his frustration and confusion. Peter, a dhampir, worked at the local blood bank—his only reliable supplier in this dreary town.

A groan tore from his throat, edging dangerously close to a whine, as his fingers raked through his dark curls in frustration. The stress clawed at his thoughts, dragging them under.

He needed to feed. Soon. Though, thanks to his pureblooded lineage, Sirius could stave off the hunger for longer than most. But it had been two weeks now—two long weeks since his last meal.

And he was hungry.

With Peter gone, though, this was going to get complicated. He could try feeding on animals again, but he'd sworn off the habit centuries ago—too much guilt over draining the neighbors’ pets. Besides, this town was so urbanized there wasn’t a park in sight, let alone a forest to skulk around in.

That left one last option.

Feeding on a human.

There were a few reasons why this was his last resort, rather than the first. The main one being that, as a pureblood vampire, if Sirius wasn’t careful, he could accidentally turn his victim into a low-level vampire—a consequence he had no patience for.

Another exasperated groan tore from his lips as he let his head knock itself against the wall. He needed to figure out how he was going to find a willing... a willing human.

He grimaced. 

“Damnit, Peter. If you're not already dead, I’ll kill you myself,” Sirius spat, his gaze drifting toward his abandoned, battered phone. The screen was a mess of cracks, more than there’d been a few minutes ago. 

It was still lit, showing a fractured image of him and his brother, Regulus, standing in front of Count Orlok's Nightmare Gallery. The photo had been taken a few years back during the few months he had moved to Salem for a bit before returning to Europe.

He was this close to calling and waking his brother up to bitch about his unfortunate circumstances  when something caught his eye.

The date.

His stormy grey eyes widened as he read it again: October 30th.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips.

“This could work,” he muttered, pushing himself off the hard, uncomfortable floor. His gaze shifted from his poor phone to his closet, and without hesitation, he crossed the room yanking the door open.

 All he needed now was something suitable for the night.

The brisk night air nipped at Sirius’s exposed collarbone, his alabaster skin glimmering faintly under the waning moonlight and the dim street lamps lining the bustling college town. He wore a stereotypical frilly white peasant top, untied at the collar, paired with sleek black pants. His fangs, usually concealed, were on full display—his thirst making it impossible to hide them. 

Thankfully, he didn’t stand out too much.

The streets were flooded with people, all draped in costumes. Some stuck to classics: pirates, bar maidens, the Scooby-Doo gang. Others wore more niche outfits—like the dozens of men dressed in black with stark white spikey hair and sunglasses obscuring their eyes. 

Sirius didn’t quite get the reference, but he wasn’t one to judge.

The crowd seemingly moved as one, heading toward the massive house at the end of the street. Muffled music and rainbow lights spilled from the open door and garage. The house was fully decked out for Halloween—giant spider webs stretched from the roof to the ground, melting into the thick white mist pouring from fog machines which snaked across the lawn and spilled out onto the pavement.

As Sirius followed the flow of people, snippets of conversation reached his ears. “James always goes all out for Halloween,” a redheaded woman just ahead of him said fondly. She was draped in emerald velvet, shimmering green fairy wings attached to her back.

The woman next to her nodded in agreement, humming softly. She wore a similar costume, but hers was made of glittering tulle the color of topaz, perfectly complementing her short, dark curls and the fluttering golden butterfly clips that were nestled in her hair.

Sirius hummed quietly to himself as he followed the stream of partygoers into the crowded house. The moment he crossed the threshold, he was hit by a wall of deafening music, mingled with the drunken chatter of people shouting over the bass-heavy track. 

Deciding to grab a beer from one of the many half-filled ice chests, he made his way to the wall, leaning against it as it thumped in time with the pulsing rhythm. His eyes scanned the room, hoping—praying—that someone might catch his interest.

A honey blond man, dressed as Prince Charming from Shrek, sauntered up next to him, a fake coy expression plastered on his face.

“What’s got a handsome man like you pushed into a corner like a scared little kitten?” he purred, his voice too saccharine to be sincere.

Sirius tried his best to keep his expression neutral, barely sparing the man a glance, even as the so-called ‘Prince Charming’ pressed his body up against his side. Internally, Sirius grimaced. ‘His blood has to taste like garbage-’, he thought, taking a swig of his beer to avoid an otherwise unavoidable eye roll.

“I’m Gil. What’s your name, kitten?”

Sirius couldn’t handle it any longer. He turned his gaze to the blond, giving him a slow, measured onceover. “I’m more of a dog person actually,” he replied, flashing a brief but unmistakable glimpse of his fangs as he offered him a sarcastic smirk. With that, he pushed off the wall and away from the blond.

He navigated through the sea of drunken partygoers, but as he tried to slip past the dance floor, someone grabbed his hands and pulled him in. The pounding music matched the rhythm of his heartbeat, hammering in his chest as he let go of his reservations and allowed himself to be swept across the floor. Laughter bubbled up from deep within him, genuine and unexpected, as he was spun around and grinded on by strangers. 

Before long, his beer was drained, and with a soft promise to the girl he’d been dancing with, he excused himself.

That’s when he caught a glimpse of something—a flash of red and brown. A hurried figure darted toward what looked like the backyard. Sirius hesitated for only a moment before setting his empty bottle on the nearest counter and following them outside.

The fresh air was a welcome relief, biting and cool against his skin after the stifling heat of the dance floor. He inhaled deeply, eyes scanning the almost empty backyard as he stepped out into the open night.

A large, pear shaped pool sat in the middle of the yard, its still waters reflecting the flickering lights of the house. A round table was set just off to the side, and a fire pit glowed toward the back, surrounded by a handful of partygoers. 

Some lingered near the doors, catching their breath before heading back inside, while others lounged in crimson and gold bean bags around the fire, the warm glow dancing off their faces. Both spots were inviting, but Sirius’s attention was drawn elsewhere.

Sitting alone at the table was a lanky man with sandy blonde hair. A loosely tied red paisley bandana hung around his neck, and a worn cowboy hat rested against his back. A cigarette dangled from his lips, the end glowing faintly in the dark.

Sirius didn’t hesitate. His feet carried him toward the table, as if on their own accord.

“Mind if I nick one off you?” he asked, gesturing toward the man’s cigarette.

The cowboy’s hazel eyes lifted, meeting Sirius’s stormy grey gaze. With a casual shrug, he pulled out the pack and offered him one.

Sirius nodded his thanks, taking a seat next to the cowboy. He placed the fresh cigarette between his lips. His gaze dropped as he leaned in, lighting his cigarette with the tip of the cowboy’s already burning one. The pristine paper gradually turned a warm orange, glowing softly alongside the other’s own cigarette.

His grey gaze slid upward, sultry and deliberate, as he eyed the cowboy through dark lashes. “Thanks, cowboy,” he murmured, exhaling a cloud of smoke.

The cowboy quickly looked away, his freckled, scarred hand rising to cover most of his face as he took a long drag from his own cigarette. “Not a problem,” he muttered, clearing his throat.

The two sat in soft silence—well, as quiet as they could with the occasional cheers and laughter from the firepit nearby, and the distant hum of music drifting into the backyard, far quieter than what Sirius had endured on the dance floor.

Sirius’s gaze couldn’t help but wander over the cowboy’s form as he relaxed into the stiff poolside chair. The cigarette he held was little more than a nub between his fingers now. He wore a loose fitting white T-shirt, paired with dark brown pants. Sirius had to admit—he looked good.

Before he could stop himself, Sirius asked, “What’s your name, cowboy?”

“Remus,” came the quick response, as the blond turned, raising a questioning brow. “And you?”

“Sirius.” He offered a smile, this one far more genuine than the sarcastic smirk he’d given ‘Gil’ earlier.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “Named after a star, huh? That’s gotta be a tough name to live up to.”

“And Remus isn’t?” Sirius shot back with a smirk, leaning forward to put out his cigarette in the crystal ashtray between them. “For your sake, I really hope you don’t have a brother.”

Remus let out a full laugh, the sound rich and infectious. The action made a sense of pride bloom in Sirius’s chest. His laugh was lovely.

“I don’t, thankfully,” Remus replied, snuffing out his own cigarette.

Sirius nodded. “Good, can’t have such a handsome cowboy fall victim to fratricide.”

Remus’s cheeks flushed, and he quickly averted his gaze, muttering a hurried, “Shut up,” which only made Sirius more aware of the effect he was having on the poor male.

Sirius leaned in, his smirk playful. “Oh, what’s this?” he teased, shifting slightly to the side to catch another glimpse of Remus’s flushed face.

Remus groaned, his head falling back against the brim of his cowboy hat as he gazed up at the cloudy night sky. “Leave me alone,” he muttered, the words tinged with a hint of exasperation but not at all angry sounding.

Sirius only snickered, leaning in closer as his hand settled gently on Remus’s knee. His thumb traced slow, deliberate circles over the fabric of his pants. “I don’t think you actually want that,” Sirius whispered, his voice low, the teasing edge unmistakable.

Remus’s gaze shifted, locking with Sirius’s once again. His freckled, scarred cheeks were flushed with warmth, a soft pink spreading across his skin. The sight was almost sinful, and Sirius’s pulse quickened at the thought.

Then there was his scent—God, his scent. Remus’s natural aroma was intoxicating, something Sirius wanted to capture, to bottle, so he could breathe it in whenever he pleased. It was warm, inviting, perfect.

It made his mouth water.

“Maybe I don’t,” Remus agreed, though there was a reluctant note to his voice as his gaze shifted away again. Yet, he made no move to remove Sirius’s hand from his knee.

Sirius’s smirk softened into a gentle smile. “Wanna bounce?” he asked, the words slipping out before he could stop himself. Remus was beautiful… and God, was he thirsty.

“Damn, not even offering me dinner first?” Remus teased, though the embarrassment was clear in his tone. His hand moved to cover most of his face, leaving only the tops of his flushed cheeks and those stunning hazel eyes visible.

Sirius arched a dark brow, playing along.

“Who said anything about skipping dinner?” He shook his head with mock exasperation. “There’s a diner near my flat that makes amazing waffles and crepes.” He pulled his hand from Remus’s knee, rising to his feet before offering his hand, extending it toward him, an invitation.

Remus considered his options. His nose wrinkled in thought for a good minute.

Just as Sirius was about to let his hand drop and assure him there was no pressure, Remus took it, standing up beside him.

“If the food sucks, I’m never going out with you again,” Remus warned.

Sirius turned to him, a shit eating grin spreading across his face. “Already thinking of a second date? I must’ve really swept you off your feet,” he teased, his voice light as he guided them back toward the throng of costumed dancers.

Remus didn’t answer but his hand tightened around Sirius’s as they wove through the crowd, clearly not wanting to lose him in the chaos.

Sirius’s pale hand gripped back confidently, navigating them swiftly through the sea of people until they emerged onto the quieter street outside.

The food had been a pleasant surprise, much to both Remus’s and Sirius’s delight. The waffles were some of the fluffiest Remus had ever tasted, and Sirius couldn't help but smirk at the way the cowboy raved about them. It wouldn’t have shocked Sirius if Remus started frequenting the diner on his own after tonight.

Over dinner, Remus also discovered that Sirius spoke fluent French, and it had been almost distracting how divine the language sounded falling from his lips as he exchanged words with the older French woman who took their order.

Now, they were walking back to Sirius’s flat, the night settling comfortably between them.

Remus, in typical form, broke the peaceful silence with a teasing question. “I’m not going to end up on the next episode of a true crime investigation podcast, right?” His hazel eyes sparkled with amusement as he glanced over at Sirius.

Sirius let out an unexpected guffaw, not having anticipated that. “Not if you’re good,” he teased back, though his palms were growing sweaty, and he could only hope Remus would attribute it to nerves.

Which, in a way, wasn’t entirely wrong.

Behind his playful demeanor, Sirius was struggling. It was getting harder to keep his vampiric urges in check, and the fact that he genuinely enjoyed Remus’s company only complicated things. Feeding on him and leaving him in some alley didn’t feel right. It felt wrong, on so many levels.

A soft groan slipped from his lips as they rounded the corner into his apartment complex. Remus must have noticed, his grip tightening in reassurance.

“It’ll be fine,” Remus said, his voice soft but confident. “This isn’t your first time with a guy, rig—?”

Sirius shook his head quickly, cutting him off. “No, I—” He hesitated, his voice dropping.

“That’s not what I’m nervous about.” He pulled his keys from his pocket with his free hand, unlocking the door and holding it open for Remus to step inside first.

Remus’s brows furrowed in brief confusion, but he let out a hum, stepping into the flat. The interior was modest, much like a college student's dorm room. Movie and sports posters covered the walls, and a pile of clothes sat abandoned on a chair near the closet.

Sirius shut the door behind them, his gaze flickering briefly toward Remus. “Want some water?” he asked, already moving toward the kitchenette and grabbing two bottles of sparkling water.

Remus was beckoned toward a small coffee table, Sirius gesturing gently toward the white chair across from him. With a small sigh, Remus sat down, reaching behind his neck to remove his cowboy hat and hang it on the chair’s back knob. He couldn’t hold back the question that had been burning at him for a while. “Why are you so nervous?”

Sirius grimaced, knowing his anxiety had been showing despite his efforts to hide it. “I have something to tell you… and it might be hard to believe—“

“NO WAY YOU’RE A VIRGI—“

“NO!” Sirius groaned, cutting him off with a roll of his eyes. “It’s not that… it’s... just promise me you’ll hear me out, okay?” His expression softened, dark brows pitched upwards looking almost like a kicked dog.

Remus sighed, then nodded, though his confusion was still clear. “Okay.”

Sirius nodded, bracing himself. “I—I’m not human,” he blurted out.

Remus’s hazel eyes widened in surprise before narrowing skeptically. His face carried the unmistakable look of someone thinking, ‘You’ve got to be kidding me.’

Before Remus could respond, Sirius raised his hand to stop him. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the truth.”

Letting out a soft scoff, Remus leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “What are you, then? A merman? A fairy? A werewolf?” His tone was dripping with sarcasm as he gestured to Sirius with a dismissive wave.

“I’m a vampire,” Sirius said, his voice steady.

“Liar.”

Without hesitation, Sirius gently took one of Remus’s hands. “I’m serious. I’m telling the truth.” He opened his mouth, revealing his fangs. They were long, far too long to belong to any normal human.

Remus rolled his eyes. “Sirius…”

“Touch them,” Sirius urged, his stormy gray eyes filled with a mix of desperation and sincerity. “They’re real. They’re not like those cheap, fake ones from Halloween stores.”

With a sigh, Remus leaned forward. His free hand reached up, gingerly taking one of Sirius’s fangs between his thumb and forefinger, giving it a light tug, expecting it to pop off.

But it didn’t.

“Fuck…” Remus whispered, his amazement quickly blending into concern. He withdrew his hand from Sirius’s mouth, a look of disbelief overtaking his features. “I really am going to end up on a true crime podcast, aren’t I?”

Sirius squeezed the hand he was still holding, a soft and reassuring touch. “No, Remus… no.” His voice was gentle but firm, the weight of his sincerity evident. He could never hurt anyone—especially not the man sitting across from him.

Remus sat back, staring at Sirius, processing the revelation. After a long pause, he muttered, “I need another cigarette.”

Sirius couldn’t help but laugh softly. Of course, Remus would want a cigarette after that revelation. He hung his head, dark curls falling into his eyes, and let out a gentle huff of amusement. “That was better reaction than I expected.”

“You’re buying me a pack,” Remus groaned, letting his head fall with a soft thud onto the coffee table. “Make that two.”

Sirius smiled, a warmth spreading in his chest. “I can do that,” he assured, his voice lightening the atmosphere.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments, hands still clasped atop the wooden table, neither wanting to break the connection. It felt too precious, too fragile.

“So if you’re not planning on killing me,” Remus began, lifting his head to meet Sirius’s serious gaze, “what do you plan on doing?”

Sirius sighed softly, his stormy gray-blue eyes steady and sincere. “I won’t deny I was looking for someone to feed on… I normally don’t have to resort to this, but my blood dealer—”

“A blood dealer?” Remus interrupted, unable to suppress a laugh. The sound cut through the tension, making Sirius relax a bit.

He nodded, frustration etched on his face. “He just up and disappeared—”

Remus hummed, nodding slowly as he processed the information. “I get it,” he replied, his voice empathetic.

Sirius took a deep breath, glancing away as he spoke. “I just… I don’t know why, but I felt like you would understand.” His gaze drifted toward the window above his bed, lost in thought. “I mean, it’s not something I usually do. I’ve always managed to find my blood without needing to, well, resort to this.”

Remus’s expression softened, a mix of curiosity and understanding in his hazel eyes. “And you thought I’d be okay with being your… meal?” He leaned back slightly, studying Sirius. “That’s a lot to put on someone you barely know.”

“I know it is,” Sirius admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “But there’s something about you. You feel… different. Like you wouldn’t judge me for it.”

Remus opened his mouth to respond, then closed it, pondering Sirius’s words. “Okay, but you can’t just expect me to say yes without some kind of… agreement here,” he finally said, a playful glint in his eye. “I need to know you’re not going to, I don’t know, turn me into a vampire next.”

Sirius chuckled, shaking his head. “I promise, I’m not looking to turn you. Just… to feed. That’s all.”

“Okay, then. Let’s start with that,” Remus said, his voice steadying. “But you owe me a pack of cigarettes for this, okay?”

“Deal,” Sirius grinned, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. The connection between them felt like it had deepened.

After some careful explanation and repeated reassurance that there was no chance Sirius would ever turn him into a vampire, he led Remus to the bed, their hands still intertwined.

“You might want to sit, or maybe lie down,” Sirius murmured, his voice low as he gestured for Remus to get comfortable. “Some people get a little lightheaded when they lose blood.” His eyes flickered with concern, though his tone remained gentle.

Remus raised a brow, a teasing glint in his hazel eyes. “You sound like you've done this before.”

Sirius couldn't help but chuckle softly, though his hand trembled slightly as he reached out to brush his fingertips along Remus's jaw. “I have,” he admitted, his voice growing quieter, “but it’s been a while.”

“How long?” Remus’s voice was soft, but curious.

Sirius’s smile faltered, a shadow passing over his face as the memories surfaced. “Since I was a stupid teenager,” he confessed, his tone heavy with regret. It was the same moment he'd sworn off feeding from humans, the same day he decided wild animals were less complicated, and blood bags even less so—though both were harder to come by now.

Remus exhaled slowly, his fingers covering Sirius's trembling hand. “It’ll be fine,” he whispered, though Sirius wasn’t sure if Remus was comforting him or trying to steel his own nerves.

Sirius gave a small nod, moving his hand from Remus’s jaw and letting his fingers slide down the column of his neck. The freckled skin felt warm beneath his touch, soft and inviting.

Sirius’s fingers found the knot of the red paisley bandana which was still loosely draped around Remus’s neck, tugging gently at it until it unraveled.

Remus's breath hitched, the faintest tremor in his body as Sirius’s skilled hands loosened the fabric and let it fall away. “If it hurts, you’ll stop, right?” he asked, his voice barely more than a breath.

Sirius immediately nodded, leaning back just enough to meet Remus’s worried gaze. “I promise.”

Remus closed his eyes, nodding as if giving himself over to the moment, his trust in Sirius both beautiful and heartbreaking to witness.

Sirius felt his chest tighten, both flattered and pained that Remus could trust him this much—even with a vampire’s hunger hanging between them. A part of him wondered how things would have played out if they had met under different circumstances—when he wasn’t starving, when his mind wasn’t so clouded with want.

Sirius leaned in, the tip of his nose brushing lightly against Remus’s neck, the words he wanted to say dissolving as Remus’s scent flooded his senses. God, the smell was intoxicating—warm and rich, the kind of scent that called to every primal instinct he had.

A low, desperate groan slipped past Sirius's lips as he nuzzled against Remus’s skin. “Fuck, you smell so good, Rem,” he muttered, his voice thick with desire, sounding almost like a plea.

Sirius could feel his pulse drumming in his ears, overpowering even the quiet sounds of the room. He tried to steady his breath, but every inhale brought more of Remus’s scent, and his self-control was stretched to the limit. He let out a shaky breath as he hovered near Remus’s neck, words spilling out in a low murmur before he could catch them.

When Remus tightened his grip on the bed sheets, Sirius felt a pang of guilt mixing with the hunger inside him, making the moment feel so fragile he thought he might break it. "You say that like it’s a bad thing," Remus whispered, his voice a blend of nerves and a faint, playful challenge. Sirius let out a quiet chuckle at that, a bit surprised he could still laugh, given the way his chest felt like it was tied in knots.

“It’s not,” he managed, his voice rough and deeper than he intended. 

He couldn’t resist brushing his lips lightly over Remus’s skin, testing, savoring, reassuring. He tried to hold back, to keep his cool, but the scent of him—warm, earthy, undeniably inviting—only made his restraint feel flimsy.

Remus’s breath hitched, sending a surge of anticipation through Sirius. When Remus whispered, “You… you can go ahead,” Sirius felt something unfurl in his chest, a mixture of gratitude and pure, aching need. With careful deliberation, he pressed his lips to the spot on Remus’s neck, feeling his fluttering  pulse thrum against his lips, a rhythm that seemed to call to him. “I’ll be gentle,” he whispered, barely a breath, before he allowed his fangs to sink in.

The taste of Remus’s blood was a rush, sweet and filling, warm in a way that made Sirius’s whole body tingle with the unexpectedness of it. He was half-afraid he’d lose himself in it, but he fought to stay grounded, to be as gentle as he’d promised. He’d forgotten what it was like to feed this way—close, deeply connected to the one he fed from.

He felt Remus’s sharp intake of breath, the tension, and then the slow, softening relaxation as the discomfort gave way to something else. Sirius gently eased back, his tongue brushing over the bite marks, soothing the skin and tasting the lingering warmth there.

Sirius pulled back just enough to meet Remus’s gaze. His chest tightened as he took in the hazy, dazed look in Remus’s eyes, relief melting the last of his worry. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice a little rougher, barely holding back the concern and care that spilled out.

Remus let out a slow breath, a flicker of a smile softening his features. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine,” he replied, his voice tired but clear. Sirius could feel his own shoulders relax, the relief flooding through him like a balm. “That… wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”

A small smile tugged at Sirius’s lips, the weight of his relief finally loosening. “Told you I’d be gentle.”

Remus let out a weak chuckle, his exhaustion starting to set in as he slumped back a bit. “You did… but I think I might need to lie down for a bit.”

Sirius nodded, guiding him to recline on the bed, his hand lingering in Remus’s hair, brushing away a few stray strands from his face. “Thank you… for trusting me.”

Remus’s eyes were half-lidded, his face softened by drowsiness, but he managed a faint smirk. “Just… don’t forget those cigarettes,” he murmured, his voice trailing off as he surrendered to the pull of sleep.

Sirius stayed there for a long moment, watching over him, his hunger finally sated, but something else—something warmer and deeper—settled inside him. As he sat by Remus’s side, Sirius felt a strange peace that had eluded him for so long, and for the first time, he didn’t feel entirely alone.

"Of course, mon cher—I'll buy you as many packs as you want," Sirius whispered, his voice barely above a murmur. The words were gentle, almost reverent, as he leaned down and pressed a soft, chaste kiss to Remus's exposed forehead.

The touch was light, fleeting, but the intimacy of it lingered in the quiet space between them. Sirius watched Remus’s peaceful face, the tension that had been there before now smoothed away as he slept. For a moment, Sirius allowed himself to just breathe him in, feeling an odd sense of contentment— something he hadn’t felt in what seemed like a lifetime.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled back, settling himself beside Remus, content just to watch over him as the night deepened around them.

[eeboshmeebo]

🍭Sweet Tooth🍬

✒️🍭

You tore open a pack of gumdrops that you had stowed away in your jacket earlier that day. Originally, you didn't even like the sticky stuck-in-your-teeth treat, but a few events changed that.

You sauntered over to the loudest voice in the hallway, a gumdrop in hand that you pressed your lips against before firmly holding it in your fingertips.

Quietly as you could, you snuck up behind the familiar back of the boy you loved teasing. Then, you stepped back as he bent over backwards. A mystery on how he could just do that like one of those slapstick wristband rulers, but one you'll find out eventually.

"HRAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you losers went out looking like tha- Eep!"

He jumped and stumbled back upright as you touched his ear and lightly blew into it, looking at you with an outraged and surprised expression that was either red from anger or from embarrassment

"Oh, Bon-bon~! It's me."

"...you. Always ruining my moment right at the peak. Can't you see that I'm busy? Gosh, no wonder you're apa-"

"Boop."

You placed the gumdrop you've been holding into his mouth, placing a finger on his chin to close his open mouth properly.

"Careful now. I heard that if you open your mouth too widely, you might attract flies. Especially now. Those hawkers outside of school always said that honey attracts more flies than vinegar."

The gumdrop was honey flavored. You only noticed that after looking at the packaging of the candies you had brought with you, so you couldn't help yourself.

"Would you stop interrupting me for once? Really."

Monoma crossed his arms over his chest, genuinely annoyed with your antics.

"Alright then. One last thing before I zip shut, I do like honeyed cherries."

"..."

He still seemed a bit suspicious of you, though Rin, who was just about to grab Monoma to stop him from ranting again, facepalmed out of nowhere and turned to leave.

"Ba! I didn't come here to be choked with dog food!"

"I've gone on douyin before with Rin. I'm not gonna tell you what he means, though I've read in romance novels that lips have been compared to cherries before. Heheheheh~!"

Setsuna snuck off after that, snickering to herself as she trailed off after Rin. You ran off too, if only to escape Monoma's voice.

"...WHAAAAAT!?"

Despite him having a really nice voice, he can yell loud enough to cause pain if the groans and curses of the people behind you evidenced to anything.

🔪🍬

Real gelatin was always tastier. It had more depth and retained more flavor, and after your first gummy, you knew you couldn't go back.

Making them yourself always was better. That way, you can put whatever flavor you wanted instead of having a bunch of 'meh' flavors and flavors you didn't like. Plus, they didn't make your mouth taste weird.

"Isn't that right, Raffy-chan? Oops, sorry, I forgot, heheh!"

The girl's head was put in a ziplock bag, currently in the sink. You had already sold her teeth, nose, tongue, and eyes off-campus, leaving only the meaty bits.

"Such a shame that human brains are inedible. I'd have loved a good braised pig's head for dinner, but I guess I'll have to cremate you later."

Humans were also known as 'long pigs'. The girl was actually decently pretty, but she had made one mistake.

She left a love letter to Monoma.

It was like seeing the cake you helped make and ordered get drooled over by another person before having a bite taken out of. You weren't going to risk that bite because Monoma was yours.

Yours. Only yours. Forever. The sea-salt caramel filling to your dark chocolate. The candied flower to your cupcake. The cream to your coffee.

You grinned as you scooped out the scum from the boiling pot. Despite your efforts to clean them, bone marrow and blood was bound to be in the joins somehow.

"Now, to add sugar and remove the rest of the residue and the leftover waste..."

...

After a short while, you were done. You added pineapple, strawberry, cherry, raspberry, apple, mango, and various other fruit flavors to your gummies since there was so much 'base' to use up, putting the decapitated head in the minifridge you had after you were done.

"The gummies should be done in a few hours. In the meanwhile, let's see what other ingredients tried to snatch my beloved."

You popped a gummy into your mouth that you had set aside earlier, savoring the taste while opening the drawer that was originally meant to hold some miscellaneous cooking tools.

Now, it was full of love letters to Monoma. Of course you replaced them with ones you wrote yourself, even if mimicking all that handwriting was a pain.

Monoma was worth the pain and effort. He always was.

"Let's see... I heard that there's a dessert made from chicken breast, right? Let's see if there's any ingredients that have bird features."

Suddenly you heard the door opening behind you. You swiftly closed the drawer after stuffing the letter back inside, turning back to the person that almost caught you.

Monoma.

You couldn't just kill him to get rid of the evidence if that wasn't obvious enough.

"So. What did you mean by liking honeyed cherries yesterday?"

"Hmmm... it's exactly what you think I mean."

You pulled your sleeves over your hands before covering the lower half of your face, putting on some chocolate-flavored lip balm quickly to mask any other possible flavors. And, since only the lower half of your face was covered, you got to see Monoma slowly go from annoyed and huffing to flustered

He's pinker when he's blushing out of embarrassment instead of anger.

"Cherries are sweet by themselves, but with a hint of honey-"

"I don't need any honey, I can be sweet by myself just fine! Hmmph!"

"Oh, really? Then... can I have a taste?"

He stiffened up the moment the thought of what you just said finally was processed in his head. It was kind of like watching a thermometer.

"Just kidding!" You teased, placing a finger on his nose playfully as you watched him rapidly change in demeanor.

"Or am I?"

You pressed your fingertip against his lips and pulled your hand back before licking your fingertip.

"W-wh... you can't just do that! That's... um, unsanitary!"

"Really? There's lots of other unsanitary things that I can do."

"Shut up!"

Monoma covered his lips, gazing at you as if you were going to eat him up.

It was very tempting. That trace taste was sweeter than most, if not all other candies you've eaten before.

However, delicacies like Monoma were meant to be savored in small nibbles for maximum flavor in your experience.

"Hmmm... don't wanna."

You kissed the back of his hand that covered his lips anyways, stealing a taste before he squeaked and ran off.

You licked your own lips. You couldn't recognize what flavor he was, but that was fine. It's your new favorite anyways.

[katherineholmes]

The New Deal

Read on AO3

She inhaled softly as she opened the door, the stench of death filling her soul and making her shiver. A thousand questions raced through her mind, wondering if he had come there for revenge, or if he had found out about Elena being alive. 

“What do you want?” Bonnie had almost killed Klaus just three nights ago, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her tremble in fear. 

“Now, is that any way to greet me witch?” He smirked and she wanted to rip his face off. Wanted to give him an aneurysm so bad his brain would bleed out of his eyes. 

“You killed my best friend.” It was another thing that she had brought Elena back to life, but he couldn’t know that. Not now, or ever. 

“Yes, yes, and you lot plotted my death with my brother,” there was something saccharine about the way Klaus smirked at her, a cold look in his eyes. “You should be lucky that I’m in a good mood, or you all would be dead.” 

Bonnie couldn’t resist it then, if Damon was infuriating, Klaus was seemed to hit where it hurt. Even if Elena was alive, Jenna wasn’t. All the work, all their planning had amounted to nothing, and now Klaus had absolute control, unlimited power. “You should be lucky your brother betrayed us, or you would be dead.” 

For a moment, the look on his face froze, but he recovered quickly. “My brother is a bit of a….sentimental fool.” 

“Where is he?” She asked, wondering why any of them had ever trusted Elijah, but also wondering what Klaus had done with him. 

“Indisposed, I’m afraid,” Klaus’ cheeks dimpled as he smiled, something entirely too superior and pleased in his gaze, “but I’m not here to talk about him. You see, I’m leaving town.”

“Great,” she muttered. Klaus was leaving, and Damon might die. While she wasn’t happy about Damon dying, she wasn’t exactly regretting it either. 

“Without a witch,” Klaus looked down at her significantly then, and she had a bad feeling, “someone killed mine you see.” 

“So what?” 

“I’d like you to accompany me.” 

She grit her teeth, focusing on him as she allowed the magic to flow out of her like water in a dam. Hitting her target with force. She could see the pain in his eyes, the way he clutched his head, but it only lasted for a few seconds. Seconds that seemed to stretch into eternity, her body and magic drained from the power she had lost during the sacrifice. 

She was breathing hard by the time she was done, and was pleased to see that some of the amusement had drained from his face. 

“I’m not going anywhere with you.” 

For a moment, she thought Klaus would lash out, react in anger, but that was gone fleetingly too. “As I said, I am in a nice mood, given that the curse binding me has broken, but I do still need a witch sweetheart and you would do well not to defy me.���

“I’m sure there are other witches you can find.”

“Perhaps, and yet, you are no ordinary witch, are you?” He stepped closer to the boundary of her house, his footsteps heavy on her porch, “you are a Bennett witch, and you were strong enough to almost kill me. Your ancestor was just as special, perhaps even stronger than you.” His hands were on the doorframe now, and she tilted her head. 

“You knew Emily?” 

“I knew Ayanna, a thousand years ago.” She frowned as she tried to remember grams’ rambles, any mention of a witch like that, “after she died, my brother took possession of all her grimoires. Of course, they lie with me now.” 

“You think I’ll go with you because of a few grimoires? After everything you’ve done?” Anger rolled in her stomach and fire lit up within her throat, the flames of it rushing out through her tongue, hoping futilely to burn him. 

“Well, love,” and then her heart stopped as he crossed over the threshold and entered into her house, “I was thinking the motivation of keeping your father alive would spur you to make the make the right decision. Not to mention all those friends of yours,” he gripped her shoulders and leaned towards her. Her fingers clenched into fists, and she thought of all the spells she knew, of all the things she could do to him. “One bite from me, and it would be the end of Caroline.” 

“How did you-”

“It seems your father only wore vervain, he didn’t consume it.” The fire in her was replaced by shards of ice stabbing her from the inside, cold fear spreading through her veins as she thought of her dad. “Relax love, nothing’s happened to him yet. Although he was kind enough to invite me inside.”

She thought of Elena, the deal she had made with Elijah, despite how badly it had failed, she wasn’t sure there was anything else she could do. The witches’ power had left her, and without it, she wasn’t sure she could take Klaus down permanently. Damon and Stefan maybe, but not Klaus. Not yet. 

“So what? If I leave with you, you won’t hurt them?” 

“If you leave with me, help me,” his hands glided over her shoulders to her neck, warm on her skin, “I won’t have reason to come back to this town. And they’d be safe. You can even speak to your father if you wish.”

“Do you think you’re doing me a favour?”

“Well, this could all be a lot more unpleasant, little witch.” 

She knew that, and she had also known how desperately Luka and Jonas had looked for Greta. How Klaus had seduced her away. She wondered now, if it wasn’t something more like this, like threats and the promise of power that he had used to take her with him. Besides, if he really did have those grimoires, along with others, she could eventually grow strong enough to kill him. 

He’d stay away from here too, away from her father, and her friends. From Elena. 

“Fine. But I have a few conditions too.” 

He seemed pleased as he looked down at her, and she wondered what she had gotten herself into. 

@feralcherry Thanks for encouraging me to write it! @sevensistersofsussex @jennifersminds @amandamonroe

[siickgirlreads]

Cant get him out of my head so here’s this

warnings ig? : mentions reader wearing a bra

convincing xavier to give you your first stick and poke tattoo, he finally gives in on the condition that he gets to pick the tattoo and the placement. you trust xavier not to tattoo anything too crazy on you so you agree and when the time comes he asks you to meet him in his art shed after school.

when you get there you see that he’s cleared off enough table space you to lie down on it, complete with a towel covering it and another one rolled up acting as a pillow. you hop up on the table and look over and see he has a couple needles and mini cups of ink.

“where’d you get needles on such short notice?” you ask curious, “Wednesday. she had extra unused ones left over from her parents birthday gift” he responds “of course she did” you laughed slightly as a comfortable silence, minus the music he has playing in the background, takes over while he finishes getting everything organized. eventually he tells you to lay on your side and lift your shirt slightly. you’re like ??? because first of all the ribs is a moderately painful place to get a first tattoo and secondly that’s a very intimate place to get a tattoo, especially from xavier.

you look at him, eyes widening a bit and he just tells you to trust the process. “what if the pain is to much?” “you’re more than welcome to hold my hand if you need to” he’s such a flirt.

you do as he says and lay on the table, facing away from him obviously because you knew your warm face and neck would’ve been a dead give away to how much his proximity was affecting you. you jump slightly as he places a cool alcohol pad on your side and wipes the area he’s gonna be working on. he sits down on a stool and asks you if you’re ready and you breathe in deeply and nod bracing yourself for the pain.

you gasp as his none dominant hand slides across your stomach making goosebumps rise and he chuckles a bit holding you steady while the hand holding the needle sits in it’s starting place pinky out and rubbing against the underside of your bra to keep his hand from being shaky, so he says. you’re hyper aware of every move he makes and are tempted to break the tension by joking about how he’s not wearing gloves. you’d run the risk of him actually getting up to find gloves though and you quite like the rough feeling of his fingertips sliding over your skin as you breathe in and out. so you settle for closing you eyes and trying not to tremble as he starts poking your skin repeatedly, etching a piece of his art onto you forever.

it’s hard to hold a conversation with xavier when he’s deep into his artistic mode so you just enjoy the chase atlantic playlist he has playing while becoming numb to the feeling of a needle being stabbed into you continuously. he checks in with you often to make sure you’re still okay before he eventually finishes and leans away to grab a mirror so you can see the tattoo fully.

it’s the bud of a flower that has not yet bloomed. you look at him in confusion hundred of questions running through your mind about why he choose this as a tattoo. before you can get a single question out though he raises his hand and the flower bud blooms into a beautiful red spider lily, your favorite. you stare at him on shock as you didn’t know his artwork cold move on anything other that paper. you have the sneaky suspicion he didn’t either seeing as his expression basically mirrors yours.

“Xavier, what would’ve happened if that little trick of yours didn’t work?”

“… i would’ve owed you a very big apology.”

now every time he greets you or says goodbye, he runs his hand up your side to make the flower bloom. it’s a cute little secret you guys share :))

[eddieintheupsidedown]

this was supposed to be a super short draft but i got carried away and now it’s 2k words and cross posted on ao3

————————————

au where vecna didn’t happen and steve and eddie became buddies purely through association with dustin

eventually steve has enough of the kids™️ always talking about dnd without knowing what’s going on, so he joins them just to watch. eddie doesn��t like gawkers at his dnd sessions so he invites steve to hang after the session to come up with a character so he can join the next session and steve happily(?) obliges

he feels weird about steve the hair harrington being in his trailer at night but hey if dustin likes this guy then he must be at least a little bit cool

one night they get together to work on steve’s character and decide to have a few beers. those turn into a lot of beers and before he knows it, steve is passed out on the couch in the trailer, spilling the rest of his beer over his shirt in the process. eddie is asleep right next to him, their legs tangled together

they wake up the next morning to eddie’s alarms, he actually makes an effort to get to school on time now. this is his year after all! both boys jump at the sound of the alarm clock and steve scrambles to grab his stuff, noticing how sticky and gross his shirt is from the beer he spilled

eddie offers him one of his shirts, goes to look for a clean one (he hasn’t done laundry in a while, don’t tell his uncle) and the only clean shirt he finds is one of his 3 hellfire club shirts. because of course he has 3 of those. he throws steve the shirt and picks a semi-clean one off the floor for himself.

steve pulls off his sticky shirt and goes to put on the hellfire club shirt “thanks…does that mean i’m officially in the club?”

eddie’s breath hitches in his throat, as THE steve Harrington is shirtless in his trailer. he’s seen him shirtless before (steve used to love pulling off his shirts after winning games) but never this close up, and he doesn’t know why his stomach feels like that right now. all crazy and excited. oh no, he can’t even reply to steve’s dumb question so he just shrugs and turns away, before changing his own shirt

they take steve’s car to school, eddie doesn’t know how he’s gonna get back home later but that’s not a problem for right now. people very obviously stare at him when he gets out of steve’s car. Harrington and then freak hung out? no one wants to believe it. and then steve steps out of the car. the flannel he’s wearing unbuttoned. showing off the hellfire club shirt that’s obviously not his size. it’s just a little too small for him

people start whispering right away, coming up with all sorts of wild theories because no one wants to believe those two could be friends

they part ways to get to their respective classes, but when steve sits down at the hellfire table at lunch, the whole cafeteria goes silent. no one dares to say anything, not even eddie who usually can’t shut up. steve doesn’t seem to notice though, he sat right next to eddie and after eating a few bites, turns to him and starts talking about his dnd character creation again

this continues for a few weeks. they hang out after school to teach steve dnd, get drinks together sometimes, steve actually starts coming to hellfire weekly and joins the campaign, although not without protest from mike, which is promptly shut down by eddie and will

Eddie’s hellfire club shirt is still sitting in steve’s closet. he wore it a few more times since he got it from eddie. doesn’t mind that it doesn’t really fit him. slowly he notices how nervous he gets around eddie, when he tells robin she slaps the back of his head and calls him an idiot, she was probably the first one to notice the massive crushes the two guys have on each other. but steve refuses to admit it. he can’t.

once wayne comes back from his business trip, they start hanging out at steve’s house instead. they sit in steve’s room just chatting. about movies, dnd, school.. anything really. they both enjoy how comfortable they are in each other’s presence, but neither of them has the balls to admit it. one thing leads to another and eddie decides to sleep over at steve’s house. steve tells him to grab anything from his closet as pajamas if he wants to.

he doesn’t know what he expected to find in steve’s closet, but it sure wasn’t a bunch of shirts just shoved in there and then… the hellfire club shirt, folded carefully and placed on the top shelf. his hellfire club shirt. he should probably take that back and get steve his own shirt that actually fits. but he can’t bring himself to take it. he’s seen steve’s face when he wears it to school. so he just picks a random shirt from the messy pile on the middle shelf

the shirt is too big on him when he puts it on. not awkwardly big, just a little oversized. he doesn’t mind. he also doesn’t mind the way the heat creeps up his neck when he notices steve’s scent on the shirt. at this point he’s admitted his crush on steve to wayne , who encouraged him to go for it. wayne has seen the way the two boys look at each other when the other isn’t looking. he’s not stupid. but eddie is afraid, doesn’t know how to even start a conversation like that or if steve will hate him and kick him out and never speak to him again. he doesn’t want to ruin the friendship they have formed

steve’s bed is huge, his couch isn’t. so they decide to just share the bed. eddie gets his own blanket and pillow and they build a small wall of pillows between them, neither of them know why they did that but they just did. as they both lay there, staring at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, eddie says something. so quietly that steve can hardly make it out.

“i’m gay”

steve thinks he must be imagining it, his half asleep brain conjuring up wild dreams of his crush also being into men, “cool. me too”

Eddie freezes. did steve just say he’s gay too? his heart is racing in his chest and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle, scared that he’s asleep and if he moves he’ll wake up. but both boys are awake and just admitted their biggest secrets to each other. steve slowly turns to eddie, they didn’t put a pillow up between their heads, and looks at him. “did you just say something or did i dream that?”

eddie still doesn’t dare to move, he breathes out a quiet “yeah” and closes his eyes tightly, scared steve will kick him out now. but steve turns back, looks up at the ceiling again “cool cool…”

neither of them speak about this conversation after that moment. eddie stops asking steve to hang out after school, says something about having to help wayne with some work.

the next hellfire meeting is weirdly awkward. everyone in the room can tell but no one knows why.

eddie doesn’t even know why he’s avoiding steve. maybe because he doesn’t want the chance of rejection by his crush feel real. maybe he’s avoiding confronting his feelings about steve.

after their dnd session steve drives the kids home, he offers to take eddie back home too and the other boy shyly accepts. steve drops the kids off first. the trailer park is closer to his house so this makes the most sense. when it’s just the two of them in the car, an awkward silence settles in. neither of them dare to speak, until steve parks infront of eddie’s trailer. they can see the lights on inside, wayne is home. but eddie doesn’t leave the car. he sits in silence and stares out the window.

“i’m gay” he says, playing with his rings, “i just..: want you to know in case you wanna like… stop being friends”

steve nods, “i know… i heard you when you slept over. and it’d be kinda weird for me to be homophobic, considering i’m like.. super gay too. i didn’t really know until recently though. robin helped me figure that out, i guess that’s why i never really dated a girl for more than a week. well except nancy. but now nancy is like family so maybe that’s weird too” he keeps rambling on, until he hears eddie chuckle. he hasn’t heard that sound in too long, and only now realizes how much he missed it. eddie invites him into the trailer, they watch a shitty movie together and have a beer. at the end of the night steve goes home.

they go kind of back to normal after that. except for one thing. there’s so much tension between them. they still hang out and drink, just like before. but now they both know. the chance of something happening between them isn’t zero. even robin notices when eddie comes to pick up steve from family video one night.

it takes them a few more weeks to address the tension. they’re sat on eddie’s couch, closer than they used to sit, their legs barely touching, each with a beer in their hands, when steve turns to eddie. he didn’t expect the following words to come out his mouth but they do, with no warning and no filter.

“i like you. kiss me”

and eddie stares at him, jaw almost hitting the floor. he slowly puts his beer down on the coffee table, steve copies him. both still staring at each other. “what are you saying harrington?” eddie leans in close. very close. steve can smell the beer on his breath but he doesn’t back off. he leans in closer, looking eddie in the eyes.

“i like you. kiss me” he repeats, still staring.

and so eddie does. he gently places his hand on steve’s cheek, pulling him closer before connecting their lips. steve kisses back with no hesitation, his arms finding their way around eddies neck to pull him closer, if they could they would fuse together into one being, that’s how close they are now.

eddie uses his free hand to hold steve’s hip, gently pulling him onto his lap, where steve’s legs instinctively wraps around eddie.

they don’t take it any further. they just sit like this and kiss for a good 20 minutes, only pulling away a few seconds at a time to catch their breaths, before diving right back. Once eddie finally pulls away and looks at steve, he sees how red the other’s lips are, his face is flushed, hair messy and he’s staring right back at him. they sit like this and just stare at each other for another 5 minutes before eddie speaks up.

“so this is how king steve kisses? i get all those girls now” steve chuckles and lighty hits his shoulder, before burying his face in the crook of eddie’s neck. eventually they fall asleep like this, without speaking another word.

eddie wakes up first the next morning, he carefully lifts steve off himself and gets up, trying to throw together something that resembles breakfast with the limited supplies the tiny kitchen has. he finally find some probably stale cereal and prepares 2 bowls for them, turning around to the couch, where he sees steve. He’s now awake and carefully watching eddie, biting his lips and fiddling with his hands.

“Mornin’ Big boy” eddie smirks and hands steve the bowl, sitting back down next to him.

they sit and eat in silence for a while, spoons clinking against the bowls. eventually steve looks at eddie, the same adoring look in his eyes as he had the night before. and then steve takes all the courage he has and kisses eddie again and within moments they’re entangled, the same was as the first time they kissed.

they spend the rest of the day together. between kissing and whispering sweet nonsense to each other, they figure out that they’ve been crushing on each other for months now. since before steve came to watch hellfire. steve has been crushing on eddie since the day he snuck into a bar and happened to catch a corroded coffin set. eddie has been crushing on steve since steve nonchalantly picked up a pen for him in the hallway 2 years ago.

it still takes them a few days to officially start dating but when they do, they don’t hide it. they don’t openly tell anyone, except their friends and uncle wayne. but they also don’t shy away from hanging out in the school courtyard, at family video every day and wherever else they manage to find time together

[apiratefellinlovewithastar]

Prickcest prompt!!! Yayy

Ok, here it is: Morty wearing Primes jacket

(also tysm for sharing the post <3 my typing hands are getting tired, need more hands on deck!)

HI SWEETIE <3 sorry I’m just answering this 🥹 life has been hectic OTL (that’s great!! you deserve the attention!! your drabbles are SO Good, I love them. <3)

He finds it by accident.

Morty just turned thirteenth and he’s all alone at home; his mom was out the door before she even finished saying happy birthday, Summer went out with her friends after tousling his hair and wishing him a good day, and his dad promised to bake him a cake after buying the ingredients. They’re all going to take hours to come back, and he’s bored out of his mind.

What are lonely and bored thirteen-year-olds supposed to do if not explore?

The garage has been locked for as long as he can remember. Neither of his parents ever uses it, always parking in the driveway. Usually, his mom doesn’t really mind what any of them does, but the door leading to that part of the house has always been a no-no in her books. His dad tried to open it once and she got so mad not even Summer dared to make snippy comments about it afterwards. Dad never tried it again.

So nobody ever goes in there. Not even her, not really—Morty has only ever seen her try to once, and it was late at night when she was really drunk. He had gone down to the kitchen to get a glass of water but stopped short when he saw her standing there, trying to get the door to open, but she kept missing the keyhole and soon she gave up with a soft thunk of her head against the wood. Morty had silently gone back to bed with his mom’s distressed expression ingrained in his brain.

It’s safe to say Morty is really curious about whatever’s behind it.

Lucky for him, he knows exactly where his mom keeps the garage keys hidden.

He closes the door behind himself in case anybody gets home earlier than expected; better to make them think he’s out as well than to get caught in here. Mom can get really scary when it comes to this place.

However, it proves not to be the smartest move. While it is not yet the summer, maybe Morty should have remembered that the A/C doesn’t redirect here and that the place has been sealed for who knows how long.

He’s been stuffed into worse places and for longer periods of time at school, though, so he can suck it up for a little bit. Especially when Morty’s high hopes and exhilaration taper off when he realizes it’s just a regular room.

Morty doesn’t know what he was expecting, but after the big deal his mom made about it he didn’t think it would be just that!

There’s nothing extraordinary about it. There’s a shelf with things strewn all over, boxes stacked on top of each other, and a workbench on the opposite wall. The floor has a thick layer of dust and that only confirms what Morty already knew: nobody has been here in ages.

He’s about to turn around to go sulk in disappointment in the comfort of his room—geez, is it stuffy in here—when a box high up on the shelf catches his attention. Something has been completely blacked out only for DAD’S STUFF to be scrawled under it in black, thick letters.

Morty immediately knows that’s what he’s looking for, without even having known he was doing so up until now.

As all thirteen-year-olds do, naturally, he has to check it out.

It turns out not to be much. There’s an empty box of cigarettes, a wallet and a broken wristwatch. He opens the wallet to find a picture of his mom when she was a little kid being held by who he now knows is his grandfather. Mom is smiling widely into the camera, and while his grandfather does the same, there’s something about his expression that makes Morty uneasy. He chalks it up to the discomfort strangers always bring Morty and decides to let it go to focus instead on the last item at the bottom of the box.

It’s a jacket.

Morty stares at it with wide, curious eyes. He bites his lip, looks towards the door leading back into the house. He taps his foot on the floor.

Morty puts on the jacket.

It’s almost a fit. Apparently he and his grandpa share a similar bulk—that is to say, lanky as hell—if not for the sleeves swallowing his hands by a long shot. The jacket is mostly dark, sans the magenta patches adorning the sides.

It’s a comfy jacket. He starts cooling down, somehow, but he ignores it in favor of noticing the many inside pockets it has, which is fun and has him wondering about all the things his grandfather could have used them for. It even feels good against his skin, unlike most of the clothes his parents keep trying to buy him.

Morty looks back at the door.

Nobody ever comes in here…

The sound of the car pulling into the driveway has Morty hastily putting everything back in its place. He locks the door and hides the keys in record time and then books it upstairs just in time for his mom to call out his name.

“My room!” Morty calls out, only to stare down, horrified, at the hand holding onto the doorknob.

The hand covered in an oversized sleeve.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit.

He can hear his mom walking up the stairs. Morty rips the jacket off, panics for a second. He looks around. His eyes fall on his bed and like a light bulb going on, the word association in his brain kicks in.

Bed. Under. Secrets. Yosemite shirt. Hiding nook!

He’s innocently sitting on his bed when his mom opens his door.

“Hey, sweetie.” She looks tired, but she still manages a smile for him.

Something warm unfurls inside his chest. It’s moments like this that make him feel wanted, even if a little.

If she didn’t love him she wouldn’t even bother, right?

“H-hi, mom.” He smiles back, fiddling with his Rubik’s cube. He’s suddenly grateful for the mess he left on his bed before going down to snoop. “How, how was the emergency surgeries?” He frowns, suddenly worried. “Are th-th-the horses okay?”

Her smile turns a little warmer now. “Yes, sweetie. They’re alright. I just had to stay back to help Davin with the paperwork.”

“Oh,” Morty relaxes. “What’s up, then?”

“Your dad called me on the way here.” She turns her head sideways to crack her neck; Morty flinches slightly, but her eyes are closed and so she doesn’t notice. “He was asking if you wanted a vanilla or a strawberry cake.”

Morty feels himself light up. “Vanilla!”

His mom turns around as she gets her phone out. “Vanilla it is.”

Morty doesn’t have a chance to wear the jacket again until exactly a year later, when Rick comes crashing into their lives—literally—and sweeps him off his feet with the promise of a birthday adventure.

Except.

Rick stares at him blankly when he meets him at the spaceship—a spaceship! How cool is that?!—and for a moment Morty thinks he’s going to get mad at him—it is his jacket, after all—but all he does is frown and look out the windshield, tighten his hold on the steering wheel—and oh, Morty understands now where his mom gets it from—before telling him to buckle up.

That’s the first of many yet-to-come near-death experiences he will have in his lifetime. He’s too busy having a meltdown about it to notice that the jacket is still in one piece and so is the skin underneath it even though his jeans are ruined and his legs scratched. He never gets a chance to either, afterwards, because once he passes out he forgets about the jacket completely.

[an-sceal]

Robby’s eyes flick toward the bikini babe poster in the dining room, then the stack of Hot Rod magazines on the coffee table. "Suuuure. Everything about you screams 'cool with gay guys', right?"

Robby has made it pretty clear all along that he doesn't want anything Johnny has to offer. That at the end of the day, the only connection they've got is a DNA test and Johnny’s spare room. Robby only talks to him to pick a fight, and the few times he's tried for a little more Robby has shut down, putting on headphones and ignoring him until he goes away.

It's not the first time Johnny’s loved someone who's never going to love him back, though. And unlike before, he's got the chance and perspective not to entirely fuck this up.

"I was in love with a guy in high school. Senior year."

[kentopedia]

nanami kento, who hates dating, and didn’t do much of it in his early twenties. but now, he’s almost thirty, watching all the people he works with settle down, have kids, and he thinks he wants that. so he might as well try.

so satoru sets him up on a few dates — friends of friends, he calls them. and at the end of every one of the dinners, kento goes home empty, exhausted, because he knows what they want is not the same.

still; he thinks maybe he’s being a little self-destructive, maybe too picky, maybe he just got so used to being alone. with satoru’s insistence, he gives all the women another call, invites them over to his apartment.

the first time was a disaster… kento had barely set the dinner on the table before his cat had hissed at her, scratched her down the arm in a thin gash. and though it did draw blood, it was hardly enough to warrant that reaction.

he didn’t even try to stop her as she picked up her bag and left, huffing like she’d been morally offend. kento, though, could only smile to himself in amusement.

because maybe kento was a poor judge of character, a man who was secretly hoping nothing would pan out — but his cat could certainly tell the good from the bad.

it became a little game to him, after that. seeing if anyone could win his pet over, and if they could, perhaps they were the one. his darling animal was a fickle thing anyway. a bit too defensive, quick to bite anything threatening after years on the streets.

naturally, no one came back twice.

he was close to giving up, accepting his solitude because he was tired of empty conversations over dinner. but then, he ventured out over the weekend to a new coffee shop, during hours he normally didn’t spend out of his home, and met you.

though you only talked for a moment, kento felt like maybe he’d known you in a past life. a part of him thought maybe it was strange, the way he kept coming back to talk to you, catching you at the end of your shift to see if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime.

by the second date, kento started to think you could turn out to be his best friend.

by the third date, kento wondered if soulmates were real.

on the fourth date, almost two months later, an appropriate time to get to know someone when you were as reserved as kento, he invited you over for dinner. it was, perhaps, the final confirmation he needed to let himself be with you.

he let you through the door, smiling softly as you told him about the book you were reading, and hung his coat on the rack. a moment later, you stopped, distracted, hands covering your mouth in a gasp.

“kento! she’s the cutest cat i’ve ever seen, you didn’t even show me pictures!” you exclaim, and, a few feet away, crouched down. “look at her pretty eyes…”

“careful,” kento said, “she’s not very—“

but the cat approached your outstretched hand, sniffed once, before letting you scratch her under her chin, purring loud enough for kento to hear across the room.

“shes such a sweetheart, you told me she was mean!” you smiled, making a cooing noise as you threaded your fingers through her fur. “kento’s a liar, isn’t he… you’re so precious.”

a few moments later, she snapped her jaw at you in a biting motion, and you only laughed, withdrawing your hand. “alright, i get it, i won’t bother you anymore.”

though she still brushed against your legs, just as she did kento’s, and seemed to communicate some sort of message to him.

“do you want any help cooking?” you ask, tucking your hair behind your ears. “i’m a disaster in the kitchen, but—“

“sure,” kento said, his chest tightening as he blinked back at you, only in his apartment for minutes and already looking as at home there. he wondered if it was possible to fall in love so quickly. “but only if you want to.”

[nkogneatho]

when you die, gojo is still in denial. they say there are five stages of grief, yet he still hasn't been past that first phase. he misses it a lot. your touch on his skin. the way you'd trace random lines on his thighs when you were so indulge in a book. and that sudden grip whenever you came across a thrilling part of it. he always chuckled at your sudden "whats" and "awws".

he misses how your voice would always get gentler when you spoke to him. your usual voice was a little loud but whenever you spoke to him, you'd be so sweet and calm.

he misses how you'd outshine anyone and everyone around you. even him. the strongest. your smile was brighter than the diamond on your engagement ring. but life is unfair, isn't it? he was so excited to turn you from his fiánce to his wife, only to find you dead and cold on the ground, the crimson blood filming the diamond, drenching it in itself.

but to this day, even after so many years, he still finds himself in denial when he accidentally (to what it seems like a hundredth accident) calls you his wife mid conversation with someone else. "oh my wife loves this...perfume," he says to the worker, his voice fading in the end when he realizes he was supposed to use past tense. "loved"

"why don't you gift it to her? i am sure she'll love it," the girl smiles. if only she knew.

but he buys it anyway. decorates it with pink ribbons and stuff, even when he knew you were not there to open it anymore. he comes home, sits in one dim light of the bedroom, unwrapping it. he sprays the perfume on one of your dress that he loved. your scent. god he misses it. the cerulean eyes mimic an ocean once again in the wait of his lover. a useless wait for you were never arriving on his door ever again.

[nudystar]

2:22 am, never doing a fic again. only sticking to drabbles

[keiscorner]

2:53 am

"kei." no response. you know tsukishima has to get up early for work, but the window across from your bed is open, allowing the night breeze to creep in and sting your face. you could get up yourself, but that's what husbands are for, right?

you twist around, trying to wiggle out of your husband's grasp so you can take a better look at his sleeping face. he has an arm wrapped firmly around your waist, the other supporting your neck to, in his words, 'protect his ears from your constant complaints about your sore neck in the morning'.

"honey?" you poke his cheek, smiling to yourself when he grunts in response. tsukishima has always been a light sleeper. you lay in silence for a few seconds before he finally lets out a sigh, opening his eyes to look at you.

"what do you want?"

you muster up your biggest doe eyes, knowing that he hates getting out of bed just as much as you do. "close the window for me?"

"no. you do it."

you sigh dramatically, gesturing at his arms wrapped firmly around you. "i would love to, but someone is holding me hostage, so i think you're going to have to do it."

tsukishima rolls his eyes, untangling his arms from your body. "problem solved." he holds back a smile when you frown and pull the blankets away from him, turning your back towards him. you're so cute. tsukishima would do anything you ask of him without hesitation, but he can't help but tease you a bit first. he'll never get tired of your reactions, and he loves that he can be a little snarky with you.

you sigh again, this time louder and more pointed, pretending to shiver just to show your husband how cold you really are, and how cruel he is for not helping. "if only someone could hold me right now...", you trailed off.

"ok, do you want me to help you or not?" he finally gives in, getting up to reach for his glasses. you win, as usual. you turn back to face him again with a smile as bright as sunshine, and despite all of the years you've been together, his heart still stops for a second. wow. okay, maybe he is obsessed with you, but he can't help it. you've clearly worked your magic on him, considering the fact that he's getting out of the bed for you when he has to be awake in a few hours. he goes to close the windows with a firm click, walking back to his side of bed.

"kei...since you're already up...", he looks back to see your guilty smile, an empty mug in your hands. "please? last thing, i swear." he give you a look that reads, "you're lucky i love you." (you know you're the luckiest person in the world.)

he takes your mug and you hear his quiet footsteps making their way to the kitchen. he comes back, handing you a mug full of warm water. once you take a sip, he takes the mug from you again, placing it on your nightstand.

"i poisoned that," he quips, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before finally lying down and snaking his arms around your waist, pulling you in closer to him. the only reason he hates getting out of bed is that he has to let go of you, but he doesn't need to say that. he's sure you already know.

[asexualasshat]

Anyone else Thinkin about how Steve was 100% the subject of Eddie cafeteria rants during Steve’s senior year?? Maybe a jibe about how Nancy was right to leave him? She’s too good for him??

And it hurts cause he’s a lil raw but it’s mostly like “yeah I know” so it mostly brushes past him. He’s doing his best to be a decent person.

And so now after seeing Steve bite the head off a bat and also be kind and respectable? He’s like “woah. Steve is good. So good. Maybe the best. Deserves so much love.” And obviously that’s rapidly growing crush. But he doesn’t quite pick up on it so he’s like “this surely means he’s at least good enough for Nancy. I need to encourage them to get together because Steve is so good and deserves the best”

So he encourages it and Steve kinda explores it and he’s quickly like “hmmm no. She’s the best and we’re buds and will never kiss again.”

And Eddie is a lil crushed that Steve isn’t happy and in love. No he’s fr feeling very sad for Steve.

It’s like a month later, with Steve leaning against him while they watch a movie, that Eddie’s like “hold the phone! I don’t just want him to be happy and in love! I want him to be happy and in love with ME!”

Thus followed by Eddie’s bumbling attempts because he doesn’t really think he’s good enough for steve

But what he doesn’t know is that Steve sped through a sexuality crisis and had been ranting to Robin about how Eddie wasn’t picking up on his flirting (Robin says he’s too subtle) so he doesn’t know what to do. But oh man, he recognizes flirting coming at him with no question. Even if it’s so deeply awkward. So once he sees Eddie flirting??? Game on. Come to Stevie

End rant

[st4rfckerz]

logan likes to watch you try to fuck yourself on his cock without providing an ounce of help. he knows you’re a big girl and can do it all by yourself, so he wants to prove that you can, even if you’re begging for help.

and he would be so cold too, head propped up against the headboard lazily with a fat cigar between his teeth, puffing smoke every now and again. his icy words somehow only fueling the fire between your legs.

“c’mon kid, i know you can do better than that.”

“where’s my big strong girl at huh?”

but of course he grows impatient with your lack of movement. so he rolls his eyes, grabs ahold of your hips and gives you exactly what you need.

[zephyrchama]

Belphegor followed you down the hall as you dragged your suitcase. It wasn’t very big, but it was still heavy and annoying to lug over the thick decorative carpets. Every time one came to an end, the luggage thudded loudly back onto the hardwood floor.

“You sure you have everything? You packed the pillow I gave you?” Belphegor sluggishly matched his pace to yours. Having long legs must be nice.

“Of course, I triple checked.” ”Good. That’s my fifth favorite pillow, so you have to come back and return it, ok?”

You nodded as the suitcase went over another bump. This was your third time going over this exact conversation.

It wasn’t just the youngest, all of the brothers were antsy about your little trip. It was written all over their faces as you arrived at the foyer where they were waiting. Satan and Asmodeus solemnly stood up from the steps they were sitting on. Mammon and Leviathan had a hard time looking at you, their eyes darted all over the walls and ceiling. Beelzebub offered to move your suitcase by the door.

Just one weekend away. That was it. Solomon volunteered to take you back to the human world for a bit. You couldn't let a rare trip home pass by, as who knew when the next opportunity would arise. You could eat some normal food for once and stock up on your favorite human things. Though, your housemates reacted like you were leaving for a year.

“Did you pack everything?” Lucifer asked.

“Of course, I triple checked.” Deja-vu.

“Even the lotion I gave you?” Asmodeus looked so worried. He loosely took hold of your forearm with a tear in his eye. “Don’t forget, the sun is awful this time of year. I’ll never forgive you if you come back looking like a lobster.”

“Asmo, I won’t.” You grinned at his silly concern and leaned in for a hug. Asmodeus did not disappoint.

Everyone else took a step forward, hoping for a hug of their own, as Asmodeus breathed into your ear, “I’ll be waiting.”

“You have my number. If anything goes wrong, call me.” Lucifer sounded so reliable as he placed a hand on your shoulder.

There were half a dozen chimes of “mine, too!” and “same here!”

You’d been away for longer trips. How in the world did these guys survive for so many millennia before you met them? You turned to look at Lucifer, wanting to counter that Devildom phones didn’t even work in the human world, but he probably knew that already.

"Don't talk to strangers," he reminded, "and don't go out alone at night. Some humans are worse than demons." He wrapped his arms around you and wished “safe travels.”

Mammon stepped up next. He forced himself to stare at you, haughtily playing off the sadness he was really feeling. His bottom lip jutted out a little more than usual. “Well! You’ll bring me back a good souvenir, right?”

“Oh? I don’t know, I might not have time…” It was playful banter, yet your words shocked him. Mammon’s eyes widened. He began stammering and gripped your fingers. You quickly performed damage control, “Joking! I’m joking, Mammon. Of course I’ll get you a souvenir.”

The younger siblings piped up, “us too!”

“I’m getting everyone souvenirs, don’t worry!” You already had a few gift ideas in mind.

Mammon put his forehead on your shoulder and a hand on your back that he rubbed. “But mine’ll be the best. I trust ya.”

“Don’t let Solomon give you any food he cooks,” Beelzebub warned. “Actually, don’t let Solomon give you any food. Ever.” He tried to give you a lumpy-looking cloth bag, no doubt filled with homemade treats to take with you. It smelled scrumptious. Only issue was, the bag was half your size.

“Beel, there’s food in the human world. I can’t take all this, why don’t you enjoy it with your brothers?”

Beelzebub frowned, setting aside his present. It tilted under the weight of its own contents. You felt a slight pang of guilt, but how could you carry it all? That much food could last you a week.

He picked you up for his hug, your toes dangling several inches off the floor until he gently set you back down. Belphegor caught you as you regained your footing.

His hug was simple and cozy. He tucked a strand of your hair behind an ear. “Don’t forget about my pillow.”

You suspected that if you ever actually tried to run away, these seven would go to the ends of the three realms to find you.

Satan nudged your luggage, observing the way it slided forward an inch. It was heavy to you, but clearly not them. “That’s really all you’re bringing? Do you have enough clothes?”

“Yes! You helped me pack!” The repetition was really starting to grate on you. Things were never this crazy when one of them had to leave the house for a few days. They wouldn't even care unless somebody went mysteriously unseen for over a week. “You all know I’ve got everything under control. I’ll be back in two days.”

“Hey, how come Satan got to help you pack?” Mammon complained.

“We did too,” Belphegor said, his twin in agreement.

“It was a group effort,” according to Asmodeus.

Mammon crossed his arms. "No way! You let these guys see your underwear?"

Satan ignored them. “Do you want another book for the road?”

“I’ll be fine.” You gave Satan his hug. After letting go, his fingers hovered by your side. “We’re teleporting there anyway. I don’t think there’ll be time to read anything.”

One suspiciously quiet demon in the back stared at the floor. “Two days,” he sighed. Leviathan did a poor job of hiding how upset he was.

“Levi, aren’t you going to say goodbye?”

“Yes!?” His head jerked up, met your gaze, and looked down again.

“I can’t leave until I get a full set of hugs from everyone,” you admitted. “I’m missing a very valuable part of the collection.”

Asmodeus and Mammon readily offered themselves for a second go. Leviathan’s cheeks flushed with envy and he grabbed you a little roughly, squishing his face into your shoulder. “You’ll take lots of pictures? A-and you won’t forget about us?”

You scoffed, “how could I forget about you? We’re bound together by a pact, aren’t we?” As for photos… you didn't know what would be interesting, but it couldn't hurt to take a bunch anyway.

Lucifer cleared his throat, signaling to Leviathan it was time to let go. "I miss you already," he muttered.

The seven of them followed you out of the house and down to the House of Lamentation’s front gate. It was like having a school of fish circling you. You could call it a miracle they weren't following you onto the main road, but if they went that far you knew they'd unreasonably demand Solomon take them along too.

“It’s just one weekend!” you reiterated. “Take care, you guys.”

They peered at you through the fence bars, waving when you glanced over. It was a sad sight, and possible attempt to make you come rushing back. If it was this bad already, you didn't want to think about how they'd act if you were going away for one week.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

first moments

words: 1.5k

warnings: mom!reader, dad!rafe, established relationship, brief hospital setting, anxiety (from rafe)

“rafe, wanna do chest to chest?” you hum, eyes mostly closed, the exhaustion from labor still affecting you.

“i…” he stares at you, and then at your son, resting against your chest, maternity dress pulled open so he's against your skin, his face resembling the exact same one rafe makes when he's sleeping. “its okay, you keep holding him.”

“okay.” you say, looking down at your son. it didn't take you long to decide on a name. leon andres cameron. leon after rafes grandfather and andres after your own. a good strong family name. 

“he's so perfect.” rafe whispers, his voice cracking slightly.

“come closer.” you beckon, rafe moving his chair closer, but still keeping his distance, making you frown. “what's wrong?”

rafes mouth opens, but no words come out. you pause, hand petting over leons back.

“wait…” your mind starts to piece together, still foggy from the delivery and drugs. “you haven't held him yet.”

“i-” rafe stumbles over his words, knowing he's been caught. “i can't. he's too tiny. too perfect. i-i don't want to ruin him.”

“ruin him?” you frown. “rafe, you're his father. get over here.”

you struggle to scooch over on the hospital bed, but manage to make room for rafe to sit down next to you. he even sits carefully, gnawing at his lip as you turn leon over, keeping him asleep as you turn him face up, supporting his neck the whole time.

“just cradle your arms. it's okay, you'll get used to it.” you watch as rafe moves his arms before placing leon in them, having to cover your mouth when the sudden urge to cry hits you, leon looking even smaller being held by your husband.

“i love him.” rafe whispers, voice cracking, a few tears sliding down his cheeks. “i love him so much.”

“look how relaxed he is in your arms.” you coo. “i knew you'd be a good dad.”

--

“god, im so nervous.” rafe looks in the backseat where you’re sitting, leon buckled tight into the carseat.

“its okay.” you hum, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “just drive slow.” “yeah, of course.” rafe nods. he barely puts the car above 15 miles per hour the entire ride home. leon thankfully stays asleep, you’re not sure if you could have handled just leaving the hospital and having him crying on the way home.

“okay, here.” rafe takes a deep breath as he pulls the car into the garage.

“you got his carseat?” you ask. your body is still recovering from birth, and you’re not sure if you can lift anything up without tearing.

“yeah.” rafe undoes the carseat carefully as you get out and unlock the house, happy to be home after two days spent in the hospital.

“mmm.” you breathe in the fresh air. “my eyes are so happy after all that fluorescent light.”

“um- watch out baby.” rafe hates having to have you move out of the way so quickly, but he can hear leon beginning to fuss and needs to get him inside.

you giggle and step away, watching as rafe quickly rushes to unbuckle him. he looks to you to get him out of the carrier, but you allow rafe to scoop him up, shushing him and gently rocking him back and forth.

--

“i got it.” rafe offers.

“no, he's hungry.” you groan, already feeling your breasts swelling with milk just from hearing his cry. “i can tell.”

“im sorry, baby.” rafe sighs, staying in bed as he tries to get back to sleep. no point having both of you completely exhausted.

you manage to settle leon, feeding him in the rocking chair rafe got you before you gave birth. he almost wakes when you transfer him back to the crib, but you get him down and back to rafe, crawling into bed next to him.

“i wish i could do more.” rafe sighs. so much of you is required from leon, not just the pregnancy but now needing to feed him. rafe tries to take care of anything else you could need, but he struggles with not knowing how to do things as basic as changing diapers.

“you're learning fast, rafe. it's okay.” you move closer so rafe can hold you, snuggling into your back, his hand gently rubbing over your hip.

“i don't deserve you.” you know it's just the exhaustion talking. you grip his hand in yours, squeezing three times, saying the words without needing to speak.

“we should sleep while he's asleep.” you say, rafe nodding and pressing kisses to your shoulders and upper back until you're pulled back to sleep.

--

“shh, leon, it's okay.” rafe looks around for you, surely you must have heard leons cries. you said you'd be just a minute, running to the beauty aisle to grab your conditioner before returning to rafe shopping for groceries.

rafe pushes the brim of the carrier back, his heart breaking as his sons little face scrunches with big tears rolling down his cheeks.

rafe isn't sure what to do, so he just lets his instincts guide him as he quickly undoes the seatbelt and lifts leon into his chest, being careful to hold his head just as you instructed.

the second leon is against rafes, his cries lessen, and then all together subside as rafe bounces gently.

“is he okay?” rafe looks up to see you hustling down the aisle towards him.

“yeah, he was upset but i got him.” rafe pats leons back gently, turning his head to press a kiss against his cheek.

“okay.” you let out a sigh of relief, tossing your conditioner into the grocery cart. “want me to take him?”

“no, im good.” rafe shifts leon a little as you start to walk, pushing the carrier and loading the bottom up with more groceries, especially all the things you couldn't have while pregnant but are now safe despite still breastfeeding.

rafe doesn't miss the way you keep looking over at him with light in your eyes, excitement evident at seeing how comfortable rafe is becoming with leon held snuggly in his arms.

--

“are you sure?” you ask, frowning as your eyes flicker between leon laying on the couch cushion and rafe sitting next to him, focus on your baby as he makes silly faces at him.

“baby, i know i struggled at first, but this is one weekend. you have plenty of milk pumped. ill be fine.” rafe scoops leon into his arms as he stands, walking towards you.

“besides, if i need help i can always call your mom. even wheezie, you know she'll be happy to see leon.” rafe shifts the baby to one arm while his free hand comes to cup your cheek. “go. please, i will miss you and leon will too, but you deserve a break.”

“okay.” you nod, getting on your tip toes to press a kiss to rafes lips before also kissing leon, who lets out a familiar cooing sound.

“im gonna text my girls.” you can't hide the excitement in your voice, pulling out your phone to confirm you'll be able to go to the girls spa weekend away. 

“i want nightly face times with you though baby.” you poke leons little nose, whose cheeks stretch into a smile.

--

“oh my god, rafe, is everything okay?” you squeal, squinting at the screen as if it'll somehow make leon appear.

“yes! fine, i promise.” rafe points the camera down so you can see leon happily on his lap, already looking tired as bedtime is quickly approaching.

“why didn't you pick up the first time?” you ask, a lot calmer now that you have eyes on your baby.

“leon and i were just getting home. i took him to the park. he couldn't really do anything but be in the carrier but he liked watching the other kids play.” rafe looks down at leon, giving him a little tickle under the chin. “isn't that right buddy?”

“did you-”

“yes, i put sunscreen on him. and he wore a hat. and-” rafe stresses before you can interrupt. “i reapplied sunscreen after an hour.”

“you're the best.” you smile. “you know i never doubted you rafe, it's just-” you take a deep sigh. “i worry so much about him. and making sure he's happy.”

“and he is.” rafe assured you. “look at his little face.”

you feel tears well up in your eyes as you look at your husband and your son, snuggled together on the couch. you quickly take a screenshot while they both have smiles on their faces.

“you're such a good mama. leons lucky to have you, and so am i.”

the tears are now falling down your cheeks as you smile. “i love you.”

“i love you too. and we miss you, but go enjoy your night with the girls!”

“okay.” you nod. “you're right. ill be home tomorrow around noon.”

“got it.” rafe holds the camera closer to leon. “say bye bye to mommy, leon.”

the call ends with his smiling face looking back at yours.

sfw taglist: @bejeweledreverie @winterrrnight @ladyinbl00d @ethanthequeefqueen

[starrystevie]

“i must have been real sweet on you,” eddie murmurs as he runs his fingers over his husband’s cheek, sleepy and sated, warm in their bed. 

steve chuckles, twisting his head to catch the tips of eddie’s fingers with a kiss. “why are you talking past tense? you’re not sweet on me now?”

the room is peacefully still. years of baby monitors are long gone only to inevitably give way to their daughter’s teenage years of slamming doors and too loud stereo speakers. but in this moment, with the pale moonlight streaming in through the windows and crickets chirping in the distance, the room is peaceful, thick with love. 

“quit your pouting, ‘course i’m sweet on you now.” eddie wipes away steve’s fake frown with a kiss, turning it into a sticky sweet grin. “it’s just something my mom used to tell me. that freckles are all the places your soulmate in a past life kissed you.”

eddie pushes steve back so he’s laying flat on the mattress and dips his head to press featherlight kisses on the side of his neck. across his shoulders. over his cheeks. his fingertips flutter over the spots afterwards, leaving goosebumps in their wake despite the heat radiating between them. 

“must have loved you a whole lot in our last lives to leave so many on you now,” eddie whispers, pulling back to stroke the back of his hand over steve’s face once more, letting his lips curl up in a dopey half smile that only steve ever gets to see. 

it doesn’t take long for steve to tilt his head up and press kisses of his own where he can; under eddie’s eye, the bottom of his chin, right over his heart. it doesn’t take long for eddie to giggle as his sensitive spots are found and attacked with ticklish kisses and fluttering eyelashes. it doesn’t take long for their legs to tangle together underneath the sheets and their breaths to get caught in their chests and their hearts to start beating a beautiful melody of their own making. 

steve lays a firm kiss to the side of eddie’s chest, over jagged white scarring and half bitten away tattoos. over memories that somehow don’t haunt them as much anymore. 

“what was that one for?” eddie asks, eyes half lidded, the adoration in his voice loud across the quiet room. 

another kiss on another scar. “wanna give you some freckles. for your next life and for this one, too. so you know just how sweet on you I am-” kiss, “ -and was-” kiss, “- and forever will be.”

they won’t know for however many more years if it worked or not. but here in this lifetime, they have all the time in the world to try their damndest to make sure it does. in this lifetime, they don’t have to worry, because they know they’ll  find each other in the next one.