#vigilant-morning-star

[gavinosbornedrors]

Month of Mecha 2024: Mech #2!

Pausing in the morning fog is a scout strider of the Lanternbearers - one of the long-standing Knightly Orders that bravely guard the realms of men from what lurks in the night and shadows. Lanternbearers wear the colors and heraldry of Thaur Lantern-Eye.

[floweroflaurelin]

This is also the only huevember painting to be made in conversation with the equivalent colour from the previous year :’)

Both pieces are available on my print shop!

Huevember day 20: Home 🕯️

Pixlriffs tweeted this photo that happened to have the Vigil in it so I simply had no choice but to make this quick lil painting <3

The photo ^

[osamucide]

WHAT THEIR LOVE FEELS LIKE . . .

. . . ft. BSD men

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA . . . freshly steamed rice, sherpa blankets, the moon in the sky during the day, well-loved dirt paths, comfortable sweatpants, clean kitchens, perfectly made lemonade, finding a dollar in your pocket, gentle cat paws, scratching a lover's back.

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI . . . used books with vigilant annotations in them, jazz music, charm bracelets, quiet and steady streams, lined leather journals, light rain, flickering flourescent light, cracking the spine of a new novel, knowing looks, linking pinkies while walking, caramel drizzle.

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA . . . boozy chocolate-covered cherries, leather car interior, red sangria, gold jewelry, peeled clementines, extinguished matches, the peaceful room next door to a party, counting a lover's freckles, cupping your hands around a flame, divine geometry.

⊹ AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE . . . star anise, black lace, fig jam, perfect puddles of rainwater, vanilla ice cream, soft distant thunder, silver jewelry, blackberry-stained lips and fingertips, tracing sweet words into a lover's palm, the moment of silence and peace when you pass beneath a bridge while it rains.

⊹ RANPO EDOGAWA . . . shortbread cookies, wool socks, poppies, stray eyelashes, strawberry jam, argyle and pastels, candied fruit, chess matches, foil-wrapped chocolates with sweet sayings inside, when a dog at a party likes you best, collections of old keys, shooting stars.

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA . . . peonies, perfectly pulled shots of espresso, letters with broken wax seals, comfortable routines, toffee and brown sugar, freshly ironed clothes, finding something that's been lost, completed to-do lists, cats sleeping atop stacks of books.

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA . . . photo albums hidden in plain sight, flickering candles, the breeze on a cloudy beach, stars on a clear night, perfectly steeped tea, crackling fireplaces, a safety net, clean sheets and pillowcases, crisp mountain air, packing a lover's lunch in the morning.

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA . . . steam from a bath, soft and implacable floral scents, typewriter font, concentric tree circles, fallen bird feathers, uplifting newspaper headlines, children's laughter, protective hugs from behind, stratus clouds like blankets over the sky, dreams that make you want to sleep longer.

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI . . . brown italian leather, vintage cameras, subtle gemstone details, warm french bread, fancy bookmarks, polaroids in your wallet, tying a lover's shoes, laughing at everything when you've drank a bit too much, dried rosemary and blood orange and pomegranate.

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY . . . frost-covered cranberries, string music, coffee table books on classical art, accidental halos of light, perfectly toasted marshmallows, the crunch of fresh snow beneath your boot, coconut and dark chocolate, a stray cat trusting you to pet it.

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL . . . pistachio ice cream, mourning doves on a wire, strands of pearls, opalescence, sitting side by side at a piano, salt water taffy, blowing a perfect bubble with your gum, the television flickering as you sleep, cradling a lover's face, banana pudding trifle.

⊹ SIGMA . . . fresh linen smell, rose gardens, pressed flowers, sleek dress shoes, swan necks in the shape of a heart, satin and silk, bouquets in translucent cellophane, sleeves wide enough to fit someone else's arms in, lace folding fans, white chocolate truffles.

[wingsofmud]

The Thrice-Born Twins

I'm starting my WoF rewrite project with the Darkstalker Legend. The book is honestly fine, but I want to see if I can turn it into more of a tragedy where Darkstalker is known to be an animus from the start, Fathom flees the Seawing Queendom after the massacre, Arctic isn't a complete abusive asshole, and Clearsight and Darkstalker were never meant to cross paths.

Here are my Darkstalker and Whiteout designs/redesigns

Design info + minor ancient nightwing fashion hcs + designs without accessories below:

Darkstalker:

I find it incredibly boring that Darkstalker looks exactly like a Nightwing and that Prince Arctic likes Whiteout more because she looks more like him.

The only Nightwing aspect of Darkstalker is his dark scales. Everything else from his body structure, to his wings, to his face says Icewing nobility. In fact, he bears a striking resemblance to his grandmother, Queen Diamond, even inheriting her signature twisted horns. He has a teardrop scale behind each eye and a round scale on his forehead that denote his mind reading and prophetic abilities.

As is expected of any noble Nightwing, Darkstalker is very intelligent and very charismatic. He was always going to be a key pawn in the Nightwing court by virtue of his birth, but when he was born on the brightest night, plans started to shift. Then, to Arctic's dismay, he presented as an animus when he was a dragonet.

Darkstalker is betrothed to Queen Vigilance's daughter and spends his time learning to become the perfect prince. He and all those around him see nothing but glory in his future, at least until he bumps into a strange Nightwing one night.

Darkstalker is always in fashion. Like many noble Nightwings, he wears a cool colored cloth around his body (the more translucent the better). He wears a matching set of bracelets and a tail band as well as silver bands on his horns and spines. The earring he has on is part of a pair gifted to him from his betrothed. He unfortunately doesn't have a nose horn or he would wear a ring on it, he wears one on his wing thumb instead.

.

Whiteout:

Though her egg turned silver, Whiteout hatched the morning after the brightest night, which is unheard of. Unlike her brother, if you painted her fully black she'd heavily resemble a Nightwing, sans some spikiness. She has Foeslayer's eyes and horns. She's shorter than her brother, but a lot more stocky. Whiteout is regarded as strange, quiet, and a pain in the tail to make wear anything.

Whiteout doesn't speak much and the words that she says are either very blunt or don't make much sense...at first. She's sensitive to a lot of stimuli and rarely changes her expression. She was very difficult to teach, regardless of how many private tutors she had, and continues to be unable to assimilate into Nightwing nobility. As a result, she's generally dismissed and escapes Queen Vigilance's eye. She very talented in painting.

Whiteout wears a triple piercing earring with a blue, star-shaped gem on the end as well as a onyx bracelet matched with a nose-horn ring studded with lapis lazuli. She does not wear any clothing outside of formal events. All of her usual accessories have been enchanted by Darkstalker to not bother her.

.

Designs w/o accessories:

[aisiedaisie]

hiiii ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ i just found your page this morning and read through your entire masterlist and i loveeee your writing! is it possible to get royal poly!marauders at a ball or something and they catch sight of the reader (can be whatever role you wanna give them) and they are like 'damn'

Hello hello~!!!

First of all, thank you so much for patiently waiting for me to get to your request. Life has been pretty hectic on my end, so writing had to take a back seat for a little while. But today, I finally had some time to sit down and write!

Now, let me just say— this idea is absolutely amazing! I’m completely in love with royal and historical AUs, so there’s a good chance I’ll revisit this concept and or turn it into a series of drabbles. (Not that I’m particularly skilled at keeping things short!!!)

I really hope you enjoy my take on your idea 💖

edit: I got a bit carried away-

Royal Flush

part 1 | part 2

Pairing: Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader WC: 3.7k

The night after the neighboring kingdom’s delegation arrives, the Griffyn Kingdom buzzes with anticipation. To honor their esteemed guests— especially the visiting princess —the King and Queen have announced a grand ball. This celebration is more than an act of hospitality; it is a shining declaration of unity, a glittering prelude to alliances and promises that will shape their shared future.

You find yourself standing in Princess Lily’s chambers, the soft glow of candlelight casting flickering shadows against the ornate walls.

 Before you, Lily examines herself in a floor-length mirror, her emerald-green gown a masterpiece of silk and embroidery. You and Mary fuss over the gathered fabric at her hips, smoothing it into place with careful precision.

“I can manage the rest,” Lily murmurs, her voice gentle but decisive. She steps away, gliding toward the gilded jewelry box on her dressing table. Its lid is open, revealing an array of jewels she brought for the journey— diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires glittering alongside an assortment of tiaras.

“You two should get ready as well,” she adds, her tone as light as the shimmering necklace she picks up, its facets catching the firelight.

You pause, caught off guard. “What?” The word escapes before you can stop yourself.

Normally, Marlene would stand guard in her knightly uniform, Mary would accompany Lily throughout the event, and you would remain behind— content to watch the festivities from a quiet corner of the castle, keeping a vigilant eye on the princess’s chambers.

“There’s no need for that tonight,” Mary says, her voice warm with reassurance. She steps forward, deftly fastening the diamond necklace around Lily’s neck. The glittering stones resting perfectly against the princess’s pale freckled skin. “We’re on excellent terms with the Potters. No one here will mean us harm.”

The words hang in the air, both an assurance and an invitation. Tonight is different, you realize. 

A diamond tiara rests atop Lily’s head, its intricate design sparkling like a constellation of stars nestled in her fiery red locks. She adjusts it briefly, her reflection regal and resplendent. “You rarely get a chance to enjoy yourself during visits like this,” she says softly, her tone kind but firm. “Go on, get ready.”

You nod, a small smile playing on your lips, touched by Lily’s thoughtfulness. Her generosity warms you in a way words could never fully express.

With her gentle urging, you retreat to your own room to prepare. A quick bath washes away the lingering weariness of the day, and you do your best to ready yourself for the night ahead.

Despite your efforts, a sense of inadequacy lingers. 

For such grand occasions, it’s expected that the lady's maids and companions are impeccably dressed, each carrying at least one formal gown for travels like these. 

You do have such a dress— a blush colored piece gifted to you by your mother when you first joined the palace as Lily’s lady’s maid.

The fabric clings just a little too tightly at the waist, its once flawless seams now strained from years of careful reuse. The soft blush color, though elegant, has faded slightly with time, its original vibrancy dulled by repeated wear. The bodice is adorned with modest embroidery— delicate vines and blossoms stitched in pale gold thread that catches the light just enough to hint at refinement. The skirt, while gracefully cut, feels heavier than you remember, its weight pulling at your movements as if to remind you of the weight of high society.

It was the best your family could afford when you first came to the palace— a gift from your mother, its fabric chosen to honor both simplicity and a touch of nobility. Back then, it had been a symbol of hope, a token of pride for a baroness’s daughter stepping into the royal household. 

Now, however, standing before the mirror, you can’t help but feel its inadequacy in the face of tonight’s grandeur.

Even so, you smooth the skirt with steady hands, letting your fingers trace the faint ridges of the embroidery. This night, you remind yourself, is not about the richness of your gown, but the confidence you bring and the memories you make. 

Perfection may elude you, but presence—your presence—is more than enough.

When you step back into Lily’s chambers, it’s clear everyone is ready to go. Lily, as expected, looks effortlessly regal in her emerald green dress, the rich color complementing her fiery red hair that cascades down her back in elegant waves. Mary, ever composed, is radiant in a soft yellow gown that perfectly flatters her figure, her dark hair neatly arranged in a low bun at the nape of her neck.

“You look darling,” Lily murmurs, stepping forward to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your forehead. Her touch is as light as her tone, her emerald eyes warm with affection.

You roll your eyes playfully, unable to suppress a grin. “Says the actual goddess standing before me.”

“Truly,” Mary chimes in, her voice sweet as she adjusts the clasp of your necklace, ensuring it sits perfectly centered. “You’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Before you can protest their kind words, a knock at the door interrupts the moment. Marlene peeks her head in, her light blonde hair swept back into a tidy low ponytail. “Ladies,” she announces with a bright grin, “it’s time to head down.”

Excitement ripples through the room as the evening’s promise beckons.

_____

You weren’t quite sure what to do once you stepped onto the crowded ballroom floor. Back home, state balls were familiar territory, their routines and customs etched into your memory. But here, in a foreign kingdom, uncertainty clouded your thoughts. 

Was the etiquette the same? 

Would it be seen as rude to linger by the walls, content to watch the swirl of color and movement before you?

Must you be drawn into the heart of the celebration?

Apparently so.

You stand near one of the grand marble pillars circling the ballroom, the cool stone a comforting anchor amidst the overwhelming splendor. A glass of white wine rests in your hand, a half-hearted shield against your unease. From the corner of your eye, you notice movement—a man approaching with easy confidence. His dark hair is tied into a loose, messy bun, strands slipping free to frame his sharp features. His attire marks him as a knight of the Griffyn Kingdom, though the smirk curling at his lips carries a roguish charm and confidence uncommon in most knights you’ve met.

“You must be part of the delegation,” he says, his voice smooth, his smirk deepening as his gray eyes fix on yours.

You hesitate, biting back the urge to fidget. He’s handsome, undeniably so, but you can’t quite place why he’s chosen to speak to you. With a soft sigh, you nod. “I am.”

“I thought so,” he replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “I remember seeing you earlier, standing just behind the little princess. So, why aren’t you out there, dancing?” He gestures toward the center of the room, where couples spin and sway beneath glittering chandeliers.

“I’m not particularly fond of dancing,” you say, your voice quieter than intended. It’s not entirely true, but you hope the excuse is convincing enough to deter him.

“Nonsense,” he says with a laugh, his hand extending toward you. “Anyone can see you want to. Prove me wrong, if you’d like.”

The invitation lingers between you, daring yet strangely kind.

You hesitate for just a moment, glancing at the glass in your hand before setting it down on the corner of the nearest table. Then, with a small breath of resolve, you place your hand in his. “Don’t get mad if my heels end up on your toes,” you quip, a touch of nervousness slipping into your tone.

“Trust me, I’m quite nimble. Dodging danger is part of the job,” he replies with an easy smirk, already guiding you toward the dance floor with a confidence that leaves little room for argument.

Normally, you might have countered with a quick remark of your own, but your mind is too distracted. The pounding of your heart fills your ears, drowning out coherent thought.

The lull in the music amplifies every other sound—the clack of your heels against the polished marble, the low hum of whispered voices as heads turn to watch you pass. The weight of their gazes burns into your skin, and your hands tremble slightly as the knight clears a path through the crowd, his presence commanding in a way that both unsettles and reassures you.

Other couples filter onto the dance floor as the musicians shuffle their sheet music, preparing for the next song. The murmurs of the room settle, anticipation hanging in the air.

“Well,” you manage, your voice soft as you cling to anything that might distract you from the dozens of eyes still following your every move, “it seems you’re rather popular.”

“What can I say?” he responds, a teasing lilt in his voice. “I am rather handsome.” The smirk that accompanies his words is maddeningly self-assured.

Before you can respond, his hand presses gently against the middle of your back, drawing you closer. His other hand takes yours in a firm yet careful clasp, guiding you into the proper frame with a natural grace that makes it seem effortless. You barely notice the band striking the first notes of the song, your attention fixed on the storm gray eyes studying you with something close to intrigue.

You set your hand clumsily on his shoulder, your fingers brushing the smooth fabric of his maroon jacket. He doesn’t seem to mind your hesitation, his movements assured and steady as he begins to lead you through a simple waltz.

To your relief, the steps come naturally, your body quickly attuning to the rhythm of the music and the gentle guidance of his lead.

“What’s your name?” he asks, his voice soft, nearly lost beneath the rising swell of the orchestra.

You glance up at him, your voice barely above a whisper as you give your name.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful lady,” he replies smoothly, his lips curving into a charming smile paired with a wink that, despite yourself, pulls a smile to your face.

“And you?” you counter, a touch of playfulness creeping into your tone. “Who might this oh-so-charming knight be standing before me?”

His eyes glint with amusement, their gray depths catching the light like polished steel. “Sirius,” he says simply, the name rolling off his tongue with a quiet confidence.

You nod thoughtfully, letting the music and his lead guide you effortlessly across the floor. “An attention grabbing star for an attention grabbing knight,” you muse aloud, a small smirk tugging at your lips. “Seems fitting, I suppose.”

His laugh is low and warm, the sound wrapping around you like the melody. “Well, I do strive to live up to my name.”

“I doubt you have any trouble with that,” you say, a soft smile playing on your lips as you hold his gaze.

The music begins to fade, the elegant notes giving way to the quiet hum of conversations around you. As the dance slows to a stop, you take a small step back, though his presence still lingers like the warmth of the ballroom’s golden glow.

“So much for not being a dancer,” he teases, his smirk as effortless as the steps he led you through.

You turn to him, unable to suppress your grin. “Maybe you were just that good of a lead,” you say sweetly, your voice light with sincerity. But before he can respond, you catch sight of Mary and Lily across the room.

“I ought to check in on my lady,” you add, inclining your head slightly. “Thank you for the dance, Sir Sirius—”

“Sirius,” he interrupts gently, his tone almost playful. “Just Sirius is fine.”

You nod, your smile softening as you take a small step back. “Fine, then. Thank you for the dance, Sirius. It was... unexpected, but I truly enjoyed it.”

With a final glance, you turn and make your way toward Mary and Lily, weaving through the gathered crowd. The warmth of his hand on yours still lingers faintly, and his name echoes in your thoughts like the fading strains of the music— a memory you suspect will stay with you far longer than the evening itself.

_____

James and Remus stepped out of the nearest sitting room, the faint hum of ballroom music echoing down the corridor. Remus, ever meticulous, adjusted James’s slightly askew collar, his fingers deftly hiding the newly formed love bites that marked the prince’s neck—evidence of their brief but heated absence.

“We need to get back before anyone notices,” James murmured, his voice low but tinged with amusement as he fixed his tousled hair.

Remus smirked. “We’re already late. Let’s hope Sirius hasn’t set the place on fire in our absence.”

But as they approached the ballroom’s grand entrance, what they saw made both men falter. There, on the dancefloor, Sirius Black was leading a woman in a waltz.

The sight itself was striking. Her blush colored dress stood out in gentle contrast against the bold, jewel toned gowns of the others swirling around her. The simplicity of her attire only seemed to magnify her elegance, and for once, Sirius appeared utterly focused, his usual roguishness tempered by something softer.

“Sirius never asks a woman to dance,” a sharp voice cut through the hum of the crowd. James and Remus glanced toward a cluster of women, their faces half hidden behind delicate feathered fans. The speaker, a haughty looking noblewoman, tilted her head knowingly, her words drawing murmurs of agreement from those around her.

Remus’s brows knit together. Sirius was notorious for politely but firmly declining the endless stream of invitations to dance he received at events like these. Yet, watching him now, Remus found he could understand why Sirius had sought out this particular partner.

She was... radiant.

“Well, isn’t she a sight to see,” James murmured, his voice just low enough for Remus to hear.

Remus nodded, his hazel eyes tracking the woman’s graceful movements. “If I’m not mistaken, she’s one of Princess Lily’s lady’s maids,” he said, his tone thoughtful.

James’s eyes widened slightly in recognition, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “Is that so?” he drawled, the spark of an idea lighting his gaze.

Remus sighed, already sensing trouble. “What are you thinking, James?”

The prince’s grin only grew. “I think,” he said, “we should pay a visit to the princess. Seems like her lady’s maid could use some... royal introductions.”

_____

After reuniting with a gushing Mary and Lily, a server approaches, bowing their head politely before handing you a fresh glass of wine. You thank them quietly, though you can’t help but find their deference a little peculiar. Still, you accept the drink, shifting your attention back to the princess as she launches into a spirited account of your performance on the dance floor.

“You looked absolutely stunning out there,” Lily exclaims, her cheeks slightly flushed from the excitement of the evening—or perhaps the wine.

“She’s right,” Mary agrees with a hum, a bright smile lighting her face. “Everyone was watching. You two were the talk of the room.”

Both women had taken their turns dancing with high-ranking gentlemen throughout the night. Suitors vying for the honor of even a single waltz. Yet, they seemed convinced that your dance was the highlight.

“He’s quite a talented dancer for a knight,” Mary observes, taking a sip from her own glass.

You nod, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I figured he’d be good, considering how confident he seemed. But he led me effortlessly. I barely had to think about the steps.”

“Well,” Lily interjects with a soft laugh, her hand fluttering to her lips as though trying to stifle her amusement, “that’s hardly surprising. He’s a noble, after all.”

“What?” Both you and Mary turn to her in confusion, the notion catching you both off guard. Nobles rarely became knights, considering the station beneath them. Sirius hardly seemed the exception, yet here you were.

“He’s the son of Duchess Black,” Lily explains with a slight grimace, lowering her voice. “Her sons are far more tolerable than she ever will be.”

“Lily!” Mary scolds, her eyes darting around to ensure no one overheard the princess’s blunt critique. Fortunately, the surrounding hum of conversation seemed to swallow the comment whole.

“But...” you trail off, your brows furrowing as you ask. “Did you not just dance with the heir to the duchy?”

“That would be my younger brother,” a smooth, familiar voice cuts into the conversation, making you turn sharply.

Sirius stands behind you, his easy smirk firmly in place, though there’s a glimmer of amusement in his gray eyes. Heat rushes to your cheeks, and you instinctively dip your head in greeting, murmuring, “Sir Sirius.”

“Sirius,” he corrects lightly, his gaze softening as it lingers on you.

“Sirius,” you murmur, correcting yourself softly.

His smirk softens into something warmer. “You danced with Regulus, Your Highness?”

“Lily,” the princess corrects, her tone mirroring his own.

Sirius chuckles, his attention shifting to her. “Of course, Lily. So, you danced with Reg?”

“As I always do, Sirius,” she replies with a sigh, clearly anticipating where the conversation might lead. Her expression brightens, however, as her gaze lands beyond him. “Oh, James, Remus! A pleasure to see you.”

Both Mary and you instinctively bow your heads, mirroring Lily’s graceful greeting as two men approach.

“Leave the formalities for the elders,” James teases, waving his hand dismissively. “Raise your heads, ladies.”

James Potter is every bit the image of royalty, dressed in a pristine white suit adorned with a red sash. The high collar adds to his regal air, but it’s his confident posture and easy smile —so warm and almost boyish—that truly captivate.

Beside him stands a tall, broad shouldered man with tousled brown hair. The scars that trace his skin catch your eye briefly before you hastily return your attention to the prince, unwilling to appear rude. Yet, the man’s hazel gaze, calm and piercing, seems to notice everything.

“Are you all enjoying the ball?” James asks, his voice warm and smooth as his signature smile graces his lips.

Lily answers first, her response polite and poised as ever. Her agreement prompts Mary and you to nod along.

“Glad to hear it,” James replies, his smile widening. “I know Sirius was enjoying himself not too long ago,” he adds with a teasing lilt, his hand clapping Sirius on the shoulder and lingering there in a way that seems deliberate.

“It was one dance,” Sirius groans, tilting his head toward the prince in exasperation.

“One dance more than usual,” Remus chimes in, his deep, steady voice carrying a hint of humor. His hazel eyes flicker to Sirius, glinting with quiet amusement as he observes his discomfort.

James turns his gaze to you, his teasing grin softening into something gentler. “He didn’t step on your toes, did he, my lady?” he asks, the mock solemnity of his tone bringing a smile to your lips.

You shake your head, your amusement showing clearly. “Of course not.”

James bursts into laughter, the sound rich and full, drawing a few curious glances from those nearby.

“Having women cover for your clumsy footwork now— what a shame,” Remus adds, his tone dripping with mock disappointment as he shakes his head.

Sirius turns to you, lips curling into an exaggerated pout. “Now look what you’ve done. You’ve egged them on.”

You shrug, a playful smile tugging at your lips. “Now, why would I do that, Sirius?”

“You’re killing me, doll,” he groans dramatically, prompting laughter to ripple through the small group.

The conversation shifts back to something closer to polite, though the teasing undercurrent remains. Mary moves subtly closer to you, her hand brushing comfortingly over your back. It’s then you notice the weight of the many gazes lingering on your group, a pressure you hadn’t fully realized until now.

Your eyes lower to the polished marble floor as you focus on listening to James and Lily’s easy banter, their words melding with the hum of the ballroom.

“You alright?” Remus’s voice pulls your attention. He steps closer, his question soft, laced with genuine concern.

You nod lightly. “It seems all of a sudden I’ve run out of energy,” you say, a polite fib. The truth is, this entire night has been draining, though you don’t want him to think he’s dull company. “I’m not used to parties like this,” you add quickly to clarify.

Remus’s lips curve into a smile, his expression warm and understanding. “We have lounges on the top floor for guests who need a break. You’d be welcome to rest there if you’d like.”

You shake your head gently. “I really shouldn’t, but thank you for the suggestion–”

“That’s a great idea,” Lily interjects with an encouraging smile. “Let’s rest our feet for a while.”

“I’ll let Marlene know we’re heading upstairs,” Mary offers before slipping away, likely toward one of the food tables where Marlene is undoubtedly stationed.

“We’ll escort you,” Sirius says smoothly, but Lily raises a hand, declining the offer with a polite smile.

“We’ll be fine on our own, but thank you,” she assures him.

“Of course,” James replies, bowing his head slightly.

Mary returns soon after, accompanied by Marlene, who carries a golden plate piled high with delicate finger foods.

“Enjoy your rest,” James says with a gracious nod, his tone sincere though his smile holds a trace of teasing warmth.

The women dip their heads in thanks before retreating upstairs to find a quiet lounge.

_____

As soon as they’re out of earshot, James turns to Sirius with a mischievous smirk. “Well, wasn’t she a sweetheart?” he asks, his teasing tone unmistakable.

“She’s polite but knows how to hold her own. I’d say you’ve chosen well, Sirius,” Remus adds with an approving nod.

“If you two hadn’t left me—” Sirius starts, a hint of irritation coloring his words.

“We did say you could join us,” James cuts in, raising his hand as if to defend himself.

“And you know damn well if all three of us disappeared, people would notice,” Sirius counters, arching an eyebrow.

James shrugs, entirely unbothered. “Your loss.”

“Not entirely,” Sirius says with a wolfish grin. “It just means we can take our time later.”

“No visible marks,” Remus warns, his voice carrying the weight of experience. “We’ll have guests for a while.”

Sirius rolls his eyes, his grin unwavering. “It’ll be fine—it’s never stopped us before.”

Remus sighs, his lips twitching upward despite himself. “Fair enough.”

[lisired]

love jones

pairing: photographer!haechan x (f) reader

genre/warnings: smut, angst, strangers to lovers, hollywood!au, photographer!haechan, model!reader, unprotected sex (don't be silly wr- [gets hit by a car])

summary: After breaking off your engagement to your fiance, you move to Los Angeles to pursue a modeling career. There in the fairytale land where stars go to shine you meet Haechan, an aspiring photographer with a penchant for mischief and flirtation.

word count: 13.1k (/25.5k)

a/n: inspired by love jones; the song by leon thomas featuring ty dolla $ign and the movie by theodore witcher. this is the second/last installment of a repost; it is also the prequel to supermodel, which you do not have to read. installment one can be found here. as always, feedback is appreciated!

When you completed all of your errands, you had the taxi drop you off at Haechan’s place and bid Chaewon goodbye. According to your new beau, he should have been there waiting for you. Plus you saw his sleek, black motorbike parked out front. No doubt he was somewhere inside. 

You took a couple of deep breaths before ringing his doorbell.

Haechan was quick to announce he was on the way, and the sound of his voice on the opposite end of the door tempted your lips into a smile. He opened it with hastiness, flashing his teeth when he saw you. “Hi, baby. Come on in.”

You matched his radiant smile and stepped inside, letting him lock the door behind you. Meanwhile, Haechan was subtly checking you out. You were dolled up, compared to this morning. How you were so beautiful at both your morning glory and when you dressed up was something he would never comprehend. 

To say nothing of himself. You loved the image of his naked back that was permanently etched behind your eyelids, but your mouth also watered at the sight of him in his signature ripped jeans and leather jacket.

“This way,” Haechan said, shaking the thought of you out of his head.

You followed him upstairs, briefly scanning his place. Not a speck of dirt anywhere. Either he was very tidy or he was definitely trying to be impressive. 

Within a couple of seconds, you were led through a doorway that was obviously the entrance to his bedroom. You took a little scan. He had posters for days, to say nothing of the vinyls mounted on his wall. There was a shelf full of photo albums just shy of his desk and you were curious to look through them.

“Not bad,” you told him after realizing you’d been silently gazing about. 

“Thanks,” Haechan replied, removing one of his Michael Jackson vinyls from the wall with extreme caution. 

You watched him retrieve it with a respectable amount of vigilance and hand it to you. Though you were way too glad to finally have it in your hands, you couldn’t shake the thought that something wasn’t right, even though you’d earned it fair and square. 

You met his eyes. “Why are you giving me this?”

Haechan arched his brow, surprised, but whispered, “Because I told you I would give it to you if you went on a date with me and I’m a man of my word.”

You shook your head. That couldn’t be all. “Yeah, but there’s no way you wanted to go out with a girl you barely know so bad you were willing to trade a signed Michael Jackson vinyl. These don’t come a dime a dozen.”

Haechan didn’t miss a beat. “Neither do girls like you.”

Your heart was doing somersaults and you didn’t appreciate the effect he had on you. Too much too soon. You could think of approximately a million reasons why this was a terrible idea, but the good outweighed the bad somewhere. 

A smile gracing your lips, you opted to reply, “Well, in that case, thank you, handsome.”

Handsome. That was a first. Usually, you’d just roll your eyes. 

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped. 

With a chortle, you shifted your attention to his desk. There was a camera sitting there and you picked it up in favor of momentarily forgetting the signed vinyl you’d been gifted. Haechan watched you with curious eyes, wondering what in the hell you were doing. 

Rather than linger on the thought, Haechan began to strike some silly poses that were guaranteed to send you into a fit of giggles. He was terribly good at making you laugh and it made you sick.

Then, a mischievous thought struck you. “Take off your clothes.”

Haechan was baffled. “What?”

“Take off your clothes.”

Haechan laughed incredulously. Then, he realized you were serious, watching him expectantly. 

His hesitation made you roll your eyes. “I’ve already seen everything. You weren’t shy about showing off last night.”

That was true. You had literally sucked his dick and given him the most mind-numbing blowjob of his lifetime. More than once. So, he gave in, putting on his model face while he unzipped his leather jacket in no hurry. As if he was giving a strip tease. 

While he was shredding the layers of his clothes, you were snapping photo after photo, heat stirring in your thighs the closer he came to nakedness. He was a little too sexy for your liking. It wasn’t good for your health. 

Now in nothing but his boxers as he threw his tee over his head, Haechan decided you’d had your fun and called it quits. “Okay, that’s enough of the camera.”

You frowned, though set the camera down respectfully. “Why - you don’t trust me?”

For whatever reason, Haechan didn’t answer you verbally, instead opting to sit at his desk and gesturing for you to approach him with his fingers. Of course, you came to him obediently, straddling his lap as if he were a motorbike. With how bare he was, it wasn’t difficult to feel your warmth on his body and it drove Haechan absolutely mad. You had no business being this fine. Cute, too. You made his head spin. 

“You are the most dazzling thing I’ve ever seen,” Haechan whispered darkly under his breath. “Shouldn’t I be taking pictures of you and not the other way around?”

Leaning into his ear, you purred, “You can take all the pictures you want of me.”

Your true intentions were too obvious and Haechan chuckled a little, because he knew exactly what you meant by that. Out of nowhere, he swallowed your lips in a heated kiss, hands flying to your blouse while you both made out. You could feel the room heating up with every second, degree by degree. Haechan was like fire to the touch, your palm flat on his naked chest. Your little pants were making his dick stiffen in his boxers and you could feel it calling your name.

Not a minute later, you were just as naked as Haechan, sitting on his desk with your legs thrown open and his head between your thighs. You grinded into his mouth, muscles flexing with want. Fuck, you were jonesing for him. 

Haechan brought you to tears of climax over and over again for no other reason than him being downright smitten with you and it was maddening. You screamed more than once. Like you wanted the whole world to give him his flowers. Fuck, he could eat pussy. A little too good. I will never get used to this. 

Months went by at the speed of light. The more you hung out with Haechan, the more you became smitten. A part of you thought this would be a one-and-done situation, but you and your new beau were joined at the hip and displayed no signs of wanting to be unjointed. 

Every now and then, he would invite you to get-togethers with his clique too. Sometimes Chaewon would tag along, more than mingling with Mark. The eight of you combined were a vivid splash of personalities, but for the most part, you’d locked eyes on Haechan. 

He started taking you on actual dates. You went to bury your feet in the sand at beaches or meander along boardwalks. You had informal photoshoots, mainly where you were his muse, or took pictures of the blazing city. You hooked up in between but never took the next step of penetration, like you were saving it for a special moment. 

Haechan liked snapping photos of you on your dates and by now he was probably due for another photo album. There were so many memories being made that it made your head spin. Pictures of you painted in frosting. Of you embarrassedly walking back to your seat after not striking a single bowling pin. Every now and then you snuck an off-guard photo of Haechan when he wasn’t looking. 

There was a knock at your door. You paused dead in your tracks, surprised, because you weren’t expecting anyone. Your brain immediately wondered if it was Haechan there to take you on an impromptu date, and, giddy with excitement, you sprung up to answer the door. 

Your smile dropped when you saw who was there. “Jaehyun,” you greeted forbiddingly. 

Jaehyun stood there holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers. “Hey, baby.”

Now your mood was officially spoiled and you were exasperated. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Shh, baby. Listen, I just want to talk,” Jaehyun said, flashing a smile. “I just want to talk.” 

“We have nothing to talk about together,” you hissed, shutting the door, but Jaehyun stopped it with his foot. 

Jaehyun grabbed the doorknob and met your gaze with those honey brown eyes you’d fallen for once upon a time. And they served as the perfect distraction from his lips. No wonder you never noticed that his lips didn’t tell the truth. “Baby, please,” he said. “Give me five minutes.”

You gave him a look, crossing your arms. “Five minutes.”

“I swear.”

After a couple of seconds of mulling it over, you made what was regrettably the largest mistake of your life. You sighed and let him come inside. 

Jaehyun grinned triumphantly and set the bouquet on your table, shutting the door behind himself. You had no idea how he found you and you were somewhat terrified of asking. 

Before he could open his mouth, you pointed your fingers at him and declared, “Listen to me, if you’re trying to win me back, I’m insulted that you think I’m as easy as some fucking flowers.”

“I don’t think you’re easy, babe,” Jaehyun whispered in his velvety voice. “You’re hard and I love that about you.”

You rolled your eyes and barked irritably, “I’m hard and you couldn’t handle that, so you went and stuck your penis in some easy whore.”

When you stood and walked into the kitchen, Jaehyun followed behind you desperately. “Oh, c’mon. Look, baby, I know I fucked up and I’m sorry. It was a mistake. I just...”

Arms folded, you watched him expectantly, gesturing for him to continue. 

“Shit. You know that I’m not good with words,” Jaehyun sighed, pulling something out of the inside of his suit. “Look.”

You narrowed your eyes. “And what is that?”

“It’s a boarding pass. I want you to come back to New York with me so that we can be together.”

“You had all of that and more, and you didn’t know what to do with it, Jaehyun.”

Jaehyun was persistent. “Well, I want it again.”

You shook your head, maddened. You couldn’t believe him. You snapped, “I don’t understand why you think you can just waltz on up in here trying to woo me with flowers and shit and whisk me away to New York. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Jaehyun - mine sure as hell doesn’t anymore. That’s your problem, you know. You think everything is about you!”

Your ex-fiancé groaned, “What - are you seeing somebody else? Did you find a job?”

“Your five minutes are up,” you snarled, glancing at your wrist. 

“Well, I have to go anyway. I’m meeting my mother for lunch,” Jaehyun said, setting the boarding pass down on your table. 

“Tell I her I said, ‘Hello.’”

Jaehyun nodded, fixed on you. You didn’t meet his stare, too busy feigning indifference, but you could feel him burning holes through your body. He tapped the counter. “Think about it.”

“Leave, Jaehyun.”

Your ex heaved a breath, then begrudgingly walked outside your front door. 

On Saturday, Haechan came over to help you set up your album shelf because he’d sweetly volunteered a couple of days ago. Which was very kind of him. Truth be told, you knew nothing about putting pieces together and reading manuals made your poor brain hurt.  

For about half an hour you both were hard at work, constructing and organizing while sparing time for kisses and giggles in between. When it was finally done, you couldn’t believe your eyes. The vinyls were arranged specifically in the order you wanted them to be without a single one missing. 

A tear slipped down your cheek and you turned away from Haechan to hide yourself. Still, Haechan noticed immediately and swung his arms open for you. “Hey, come here.”

You crept into his arms without a second thought, letting him cradle you there. Though you wanted to chide yourself for tearing up in front of him, his arms felt like a safe place. Where you belonged. 

“Thank you,” you whispered to him, drying your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What for? This is all you, baby. It takes a lot of commitment to do something like this. I respect the hell out of your dedication.”

You chuckled and slipped away, sitting at your bed, but pat the spot beside you. Haechan took the invite and crashed at your side, lowering his head into your lap and staring into your eyes. You threaded your fingers through his hair, just meeting his stare and matching his affection. 

Then, Haechan asked the dreaded question, “What made you want to start a record collection anyways?”

That made you stiffen. Haechan instantly noticed something was off and parted his lips to apologize, but you were quicker. “I didn’t start it. It was my grandfather’s.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Leukemia.”

“Shit. My bad,” Haechan apologized. 

You brushed him off, though there were a lot of emotions stirring inside your chest as you spoke. “It’s fine. It was years ago. He had a whole list of vinyls he specifically wanted. I’m just finishing what he started.”

In spite of your attempts to be nonchalant, Haechan could tell you were heavily affected by your grandfather’s passing. “That’s really sweet,” he told you sincerely. “I know he’s really proud of you.”

I hope so, you thought to yourself, wistful. “Yeah. Enough about me, though. What’s the deal with you and motorcycles?”

Haechan started laughing, probably at good memories, because you knew the feeling. It was your only option when it came to outweighing all the negative feelings. “My mom is a photographer and my dad is a reformed biker. She always got these cool shots of him on his bike. Growing up peeking at them through the garage door, I think it was just kinda natural I developed a passion for both.”

“Sounds like a happy family.” No envy was present in your tone, just genuine curiosity. 

Haechan bobbed his head, then leapt up to grab his photo album and crossed his legs. “These are a couple of the shots my mom took of my dad.”

You watched him flip the pages, photos of him as a boy flickering past until he stopped at the pictures of his dad on his motorbike taken by Mrs. Lee. Many of them were taken in different settings, but the most eye-catching of them all was the one of his dad in the city, helmet catching in the neon lights. 

It was like you were instantly enamored. The shots were beautiful. His mother had a great eye and you could clearly see who he got it from. 

“Wow. These are one of a kind,” you gasped. 

Haechan bobbed his head. “Yeah. You should meet them. I think they’d like you.”

Your heart started beating so fast you nearly had a heart attack. “You sure don’t waste any time.”

“I mean, not right this second,” he added, realizing he was moving at a quick speed. “I was just suggesting it for some time in the future.”

Meet his parents, huh? That meant he must’ve really planned on sticking around.

Rather than reply, you acknowledged his response with a pat and grabbed his photobook, carefully dropping it on your desk. You reached for his shoulders and straddled him, brushing your lips against his ears before asking, “How many hearts have you broken?”

“One,” Haechan replied, planting one hand at your waist and steering the other to your ass.

“Honesty.” That surprised you a little. Though Haechan had been nothing but honest with you. 

Haechan shook his head. He was tempted to kiss you, but he would settle for feeling your warmth on his lap. For now, at least. “It wasn’t like that,” he said. “I broke her heart, she broke mine. We’re even.”

You weren’t jealous, but your curiosity got the best of you. “Do you still talk?”

Haechan immediately snorted. As if. “Nope.”

“Hm.” You were looking at his dumb handsome face, wanting to kiss him, but wanting to be stronger. 

You had Haechan’s undivided attention, because he was studying you, hands rubbing you up and down. Your breath picked up in speed the longer he continued and he fought a stupid smile. “Have you ever been bad for someone and they were bad for you?”

With a frown, you gave him a nod. That hit a little too close to home. “Mutually bad? Yeah. Been there. Done that.”

Haechan was sobering, getting a little vulnerable with you for once. “It’s true, what they say. Two wrongs don’t make a right. That’s why it didn’t work out. Both trying to make something right while both being wrong as hell. We took turns being at fault.”

“Sounds toxic,” you replied with a grimace.

“You don’t know the half of it,” he said, snickering. “What about you - bad history?”

You shifted a little. It was a reminder that you had spoken nothing of Jaehyun to Haechan. Why would you anyways? He was history. Thanks to all those months with Haechan, you’d forgotten all about Jaehyun until he randomly entered your life again. Never in a million years did you once imagine you’d go so long without your ex-fiancé back then, but Haechan made you forget. 

The feeling of Haechan’s body warmth gave you a little push. Playing nonchalant, you replied totally deadpan, “Oh, you know. Nothing crazy. He was sweet in the beginning and talked about getting married and having kids. Then, we started arguing, but he would always make up for it and I would forget. Then I found him balls deep in another girl.”

Haechan winced. “Damn.” He pointed over to your desk. “That ring from your mystery lover?”

You quickly frowned. For whatever reason, Jaehyun never demanded it back, and you didn’t know what to do with it. Though Chaewon had been very adamant you throw it off a mountain never to be seen again. You cloaked your melancholy with humor, “Nothing gets past you.”

“So, you were engaged.”

“Not when you hit on me,” you said, knowing immediately what he was referring to. That night at the bar. You almost laughed. Oh, how the tables turn. “So I guess you were right about my vibes.”

Haechan chuckled, but he was a little in his head now. Your engagement had to be recent, he realized. It made a lot of sense.

Temporarily discarding those thoughts, Haechan reached for his camera with his hand coiled around your waist, making you furrow your brows at him. “What are you doing now?”

He pointed it at you. “For the photobook. One more before it’s full.”

“Should I pose?” 

“Just be sexy.”

You scoffed, “I’m always sexy.”

“Exactly, baby,” Haechan replied, back hitting the mattress while your legs were still draped over either side of him. 

When Haechan pointed his camera at you, you smiled for the picture. It printed out the polaroid immediately, which Haechan took and handed to you for approval. You looked it over and beamed with acceptance. Your smile was different there. Not one of those forced model smiles. It was like you were smiling at Haechan rather than the camera.

“Your photo album is complete,” you announced, leaning over to kiss his neck. 

Haechan quickly tossed everything to the side in favor of clasping your hips in his hands again, because it felt natural to hold them. Your breath tickled his neck, not to mention your lips on his throat.

He grinned wildly and whispered, “Thanks for being the finishing piece.”

You giggled and finally kissed his lips, having exhausted all of your self-restraint. Haechan kissed you back just as feverishly, as if you’d both been waiting for each other to snap but didn’t want to forfeit. 

First it was just harmless kissing and touching, until your bodies became restless. Haechan tested the waters, so to speak, nimble fingers unbuttoning your blouse until it fell. He made short work of your bra, unclasping it and tossing it aside. 

You were exposed to him, though he’d already seen everything you had to offer. Many, many times. But there was something different about the way he looked into your eyes and how your heart raced when his fingers brushed against you.

Haechan kneaded your breasts, resulting in you having to suck in your breath. Your soft sounds made his dick twitch in his pants. He could feel that the air was thicker too, the two of you suffocating beneath the weight of your own desire. 

You’d had enough of being teased by him and pulled his lips back onto yours by his collar, throwing his shirt above his head all the while. All you wanted to do was kiss and taste him. And maybe fuck him.

Scratch that. You definitely wanted to fuck him and your body wanted him even more. “Haechan,” you grumbled, clawing at his jeans. “Take it off.”

There would be no need to tell him twice. Haechan gently steered you off of his lap and sat up to remove his jeans, leaving him in his boxers, but you were quick to take care of that situation. You didn’t waste any time freeing his hard cock from his boxers, much to his amusement.

“I want you,” you told him, finding his eyes with a fixed stare. “Inside.”

Well, that left no room for misunderstanding. Haechan’s brain shut down at the thought of being inside of you, though he played it cool. “How do you want me?”

Bringing your hand under your skirt, you tugged your panties past your ankles and threw your legs open, smiling coyly. “Come and get me.”

Haechan growled, “Woman, you drive me crazy.”

You giggled, but the noise faded out when Haechan crawled over you, kissing you again. Neither of you could stand to be apart from each other for three seconds. All you wanted was to feel him so deep inside you that he could never leave.

Haechan realized something and pulled back with a groan. “I don’t have a condom.”

You arched a brow, stifling a laugh. It was very unlike him. You’d seen the inside of Haechan’s wallet more than once and he kept a condom, though he hadn’t brought it with him. Probably because he wasn’t expecting to need anything. “I have an IUD,” you said. 

The realization on Haechan’s face was laughable. “You mean?”

“Yes.”

“Fuck, you really want me to…”

“Yes, Haechan,” you repeated with a groan. “I’m not about to beg you to cum inside me.”

“Maybe you should,” Haechan suggested, the grin back on his plush lips. 

You rolled your eyes. Then, a thought struck you, and you half-joked, “You’re not a bastard that’s stuck your dick inside half the girls in the city, right?”

“If you wanted to know my body count, all you had to do was ask,” Haechan retorted.

“You haven’t asked about my body count.”

Haechan kissed the corner of your lips and told you frankly, “Baby, I couldn’t give less of a damn what your body count is.”

Well, that was good to know. There were a couple of guys you’d been with that would freak out if they knew you’d hooked up with more than a couple of boys. 

“Unless you’re a serial killer,” Haechan added lightheartedly. 

You were caught off guard and snickered, corners of your lips upturned. No matter the time, Haechan could be counted on to make you laugh. “I’m not a serial killer.”

“Good.”

You peered up at him and joked, “Promise not to give me chlamydia?”

Haechan snorted. “You’d be the first girl I’ve hit raw.”

You believed him, but it surprised you when Haechan held out his pinky. You rolled your eyes, prompting a laugh out of him, but intertwined your pinky with his. It was kinda cute. 

The mood completely shifted from that moment on. His dick lined up at your entrance, the tip teasing your hole. All you wanted was to feel every inch of him buried inside of you. He was slow and steady, taking his time to fill you, inch by fucking inch. 

Some noises left each of you when you’d swallowed his length whole and he slinked down against your velvet walls. His hands left your waist in favor of your hands and he slipped his fingers through yours affectionately, squeezing them as he wondered why you hadn’t done this sooner. 

The same thought was heavy on your mind, though you had no regrets. Neither did Haechan. For whatever reason, it felt a billion times more special now compared to if you would have hooked up earlier. 

It felt like you were making love.

“Haechan,” you cried out, all the heat in your body gathering at your core. It felt like he was stretching you open. 

“I’m right here, baby. I’m not going anywhere. I promise,” Haechan sighed, eyes fluttering closed. “Shit, baby. You’re so damn perfect.”

Haechan was so deep that you could feel him in the pit of your stomach, keeping the butterflies that had made a home out of your gut company. You felt at ease with your hand in his and his warmth enveloping you from head to toe. 

It was over when Haechan started to set that steady, comfortable pace. It wasn’t too slow, but he thankfully wasn’t jack-hammering you either. The rhythm was just right. He glanced down at you, a weight on his eyelids, and asked sweetly, “Is this okay?”

“It’s perfect,” you whispered, lips twitching into a smile. You grabbed his face and smashed your lips against his, desperate to feel him everywhere. You could taste yourself on his tongue and inexplicably, it made you feel a different breed of insatiable. 

Haechan kissed you back even harder in between grunts and curses, typically followed by your name more often than they were not. You were making him dizzy. You were making him entirely dependent on you, as if there was no him without you in his arms. 

Sweat stuck to your skin, little beads of moisture dripping down your back and breasts in numbers. Your whole body was alive, craving him like no other. Your thighs tensed, heat spasming in your palms. Your hips moved to their own accord, trying to match Haechan’s thrusts because you wanted to feel the euphoria to the max. All the pleasure turned you into a madwoman.

Haechan pulled back, the heat of you reworking the wires in his brain, and asked, “Do you mind if I take pictures of you?”

The question did a little more than catch you off-guard, though the more you mulled it over, the more your thighs tightened with want and arousal. You were entertained by the idea, that was for sure. It was like nothing you had over done before, in spite of the fact that you modeled for a living. Maybe it was the heat getting to your head, but you were inclined to agree. 

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” Haechan said, noticing your hesitation. 

You shook your head, grinning at him with tiny little stars in your eyes. “I want to.”

Haechan’s lips twisted into a beaming smile of their own and he plucked the camera from wherever he had tossed it to, pointing at you once more. Rather than getting a shot of your face, he was snapping photos of your heaving chest. 

Then, it was your stomach, the print of his dick visible against your tummy. Followed by your neck and collarbone, decorated by the necklace he’d gotten you a couple of weeks in advance.

“You’re so beautiful,” Haechan hissed, lowering his head to kiss your breasts. You sighed softly at the feeling, content. 

Your breath caught in your throat when he handed you back the polaroids for self-approval, pussy tightening around his stiff dick. Which he couldn’t help but notice and grinned slyly. 

You tapped his forearm and asked, “Can I see the camera?”

“Sure,” Haechan said, handing it to you. 

You knew maybe a thing or two about how to work a camera, courtesy of your industry, and navigated to the self-timer without any need for his assistance. Then, you sat it down, and pulled his lips onto yours by his hair again. 

As if he hadn’t already known, that single-handedly confirmed that you were the one.

You were getting closer by the minute. All of the kissing, touching and sucking (and photo-snapping) was making short work of the both of you. Haechan had internally worried about busting too quick when you permitted him to go bareback, but you weren’t far behind. 

All of it was making you mad with lust. The heat and the sounds and the pressure. Your whole body was overloaded, writhing with pleasure. 

Haechan was whispering sweet praises in your ear partially to get you off just in case, because he was going to unravel any moment now. His finger thumbed your clit, and with just a look at your face tense with bliss, he was getting closer. 

“I’m gonna… Haechan, fuck,” you moaned, barely coherent. It was hard to speak with him strumming you to climax, and the weight of him on top of you. It was game over. 

You’d come to notice the signs of Haechan’s impending orgasm and they were all staring you down right now, so when he let out that final, high-pitched moan of your name preceded by a string of curses, it wasn’t even somewhat shocking when you felt his fingers find yours and tighten around them again, his release painting your walls. 

That was all it took to break you, his hot cum spilling inside the tightness of your cunt. It was a wordless orgasm, but an intense one, looking into his eyes with all the pleasure and wanting in the world as you shuddered with climax. 

For a long minute, the two of you just took a while to gather your bearings. Then, you took one look at each other, and burst into a fit of giggles. Your heart was taut with something bittersweet. 

A couple of hours (and rounds) later, Haechan was still at your house. You both took a long, hot shower together with the excuse of saving water and walked back inside your room. 

You sat on your chair while Haechan took the bed, just staring at each other for a minute. “I’ve really been having a good time these past couple of months.”

“Glad to be of service,” Haechan chirped, a bottle of beer in hand. 

You chuckled. 

Haechan could feel a shift in the air and it was somewhat unnerving. He asked, “Why do I get the feeling that there’s about to be a really strong but here?”

Your laughter turned nervous. Which was noticed. After a while, Haechan started to pick up even the slightest of changes with you. That was what he did. “I’m, um, going to NYC next week for a little bit.”

And there it was. “Oh, yeah?” Haechan hummed, nonchalant. “For how long?”

“Just a couple of weeks, I think. I don’t know. Probably just a couple of weeks, if not less,” you said, avoiding eye contact. 

“Well, what’s going on in New York?”

“I’m just…,” you trailed off, fighting the nerves in your gut. “I’m just poking around, you know? Looking for some gigs. And I also have some… unfinished business to take care of.”

Your response was vague as ever, which told Haechan everything that he needed to know. “Your ex.”

You frowned. Haechan was many, many things, but he wasn’t an idiot. There was no way that you could play him for a fool. “Haechan, the only reason I’m telling you this is because I really care about you, and I’m not trying to hurt you.”

There was a moment spent in silence as Haechan processed your words. “Well, I appreciate your honesty,” he said after a moment. “But aren’t we just kickin’ it?”

Your eyes flickered. “So, you’re not mad?”

“Pfft. Hell no,” Haechan said, feigning indifference very skillfully. “I’m not your man. I don’t have a ring on your finger or anything like that. Go on to New York and do whatever you gotta do. I mean, we’re just friends, right?”

“Right,” you mumbled, but there was something dark lingering in your chest. “Well, I’d like for you to meet me at the airport next week, if you want. Kiss me goodbye maybe.”

Haechan chuckled lightly. “Is it goodbye or see you later?”

“See you later,” you replied sheepishly. “I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“I’ll stay by my phone.”

You smiled thinly.

Then, the night came for you to fly to New York. 

“Because if he knew what he was doing, what the hell am I doing in the picture then?”

Jaemin nodded. “Riddle me that.”

Haechan continued, “Why am I hitting it?”

Jaemin acknowledged Haechan with a raise of his drink. 

Lifting his own drink, Haechan scoffed. He’d been in out of his head and was realizing that he might have been a fool for you. He was conflicted. First of all, you’d started acting a little distant a couple of weeks before when up until then, things had been sailing smoothly. 

He figured you were stressed from work and didn’t press you about anything, until the other night revealed your true feelings. You were going back to the man who’d disrespected you and your relationship and he couldn’t understand why.

But it wasn’t for him to understand, so he was going to pretend as if he didn’t care about you. If you wanted to run off to New York City and get fucked over by a dickhead again, that was your decision. Why the fuck should I care? He grumbled to himself. 

On the one hand, he’d made countless memories with you all in the span of two months and thoughts of a future with you were like a whirlwind in his mind. He thought you felt the same, but on the other hand, he realized he was nothing but a pit-stop along the way. Like he was in the backseat of the joy ride and none of it mattered because it was harmless fun. 

“Let me tell you the real deal,” Haechan began, settling down his drink. “The real deal is I don’t think she can handle it.”

Jaemin chuckled. 

Haechan threw his head back. “Jaem, I put it on her. Boom.”

“And now she’s gone.”

“Now she’s fucking gone.”

“I feel you, man,” Jaemin said, dispatching messages from his girlfriend before turning his phone screen-side down. “But wait a minute. I thought you two were just… you know, um… kickin’ it.”

“That’s not the point, Jaemin,” Haechan groaned, running his fingers through his hair. 

“So, what’s the point, my friend?”

Haechan bristled. “I’ll tell you the point. Have you been listening? I’m gonna tell you the point. Matter of fact, I’m gonna feed you the point. The point is…”

Jaemin cocked his head, glancing at Haechan expectantly with a wry smile on his face. 

“Man, fuck this, that’s the point,” Haechan barked irritably. “I’m gonna find me a fine ass woman and we’re gonna have some fine ass sex on this fine ass night.”

Jaemin retorted, “You’re gonna wake up with a fine ass hangover and get a fine ass ass-whooping.”

“Whatever, man. You should get laid, too. Tell Winter I said what’s up,” was all Haechan said before marching over to the bar. 

He got another drink and sat there for a while, completely in his thoughts. Most of them about you, obviously. No matter what, he couldn’t get you out of his head. He’d obviously fallen hard in spite of whatever bullshit he fed his friends, because you were all he could think about. 

Distractions, distractions, I need a fucking distraction, Haechan hissed to himself. Then, he turned around, and briefly made eye contact with a woman who’d been fucking him with her eyes. 

If you wanted to play, Haechan was down for the game. And he had plenty. 

All the while, you were across town. Walking around the airport, you were nothing short of antsy. For good reason. 

Are you coming? 

Sent two hours ago. There was no telling if Haechan had seen the message, considering his read receipts were off. Maybe he was just ignoring you. That could have been it. He told you he’d let you know if he could make it tonight or not, but the last time you heard from him was the night you’d dropped the news. 

An instagram notification popped on your phone and you accidentally clicked it, being taken to Jaemin’s story. And you frowned when you saw a picture of him and the boys - all of them - out drinking. 

Then, your flight was called, and rather than wallow in all of the bad feelings, you sucked it up and got on that plane. 

Days passed. Nothing from Haechan. All coming back to New York did was remind you why you left in the first place. First of all, Jaehyun was adamant that you didn’t pursue any of the gigs you’d come there for. Something about him being a provider and some other bullshit you weren’t exactly keen on hearing. 

When you instead ventured around the city, meeting up with some old friends and the like, it only made things worse. You walked by all the places Jaehyun used to visit with you once upon a time, before each of your worlds clashed and you realized it wouldn’t work. 

Maybe a couple of months ago, it would have made you sad. Now, you just wanted to get the fuck out of here. You felt like you were wallowing in memories you had no intention of ever bringing up again. This just wasn’t your home anymore. 

Sharing a bed with your ex-fiancé at night didn’t help, because all you did was dream of zipping through Los Angeles at night on the back of Haechan’s motorbike. You imagined speed and restlessness. You could feel the wind whipping through your hair and his hands on your waist. 

“I’m home,” you grumbled one day, kicking off your shoes at the front door. 

Nothing. Much to your surprise, Jaehyun didn’t say a word. Almost like he wasn’t even there. Which was strange, because his car was parked out front and according to his schedule, he should have been back by now. 

You were getting flashbacks. Being home earlier than expected, slipping inside the house unheard like a thief in the night. He had the audacity to have you sleep in the same bed he’d probably fucked countless other girls in. 

Fighting off the thought, you heard a noise in the kitchen and followed the sound. Jaehyun was looking through the cabinet, seemingly not noticing your presence until you tapped on the counter and greeted, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jaehyun repeated, then pointed to the cabinet. “Where are my Frosted Flakes?”

“Oh, I finished the box this morning.”

Jaehyun groaned, “Oh, you couldn’t just eat the damn Cinnamon Toast Crunch?”

“Oh, brother.” You rolled your eyes, setting your purse down on the counter. 

Jaehyun was bristling. “Look, I’m sorry I had a bad day today.”

“Well, I had a bad day, too,” you retorted, taking off your coat. 

“So, you wanna tell me about it?”

“No,” you hissed, hanging your coat on the coat rack in the living room.

“Baby,” Jaehyun called out behind you, following you to the couch. “I hate to see you, you know…”

“Wasting my time,” you interrupted.

Jaehyun gave you a little nudge, fixing you a stare. “You know that’s not what I meant. All I’m saying is that I can provide for the both of us. I don’t want you to deal with…”

“Getting a job?”

“Rejection,” Jaehyun hissed. “And stop finishing my sentences.”

You laughed humorlessly, turning away, and blew out a sigh. “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“What?”

You raised your voice, “I don’t even know why I’m here.”

“No, I heard you,” Jaehyun said, clearly upset now. Again. “After all these years together, you don’t know why you’re here?”

Now, you were getting irritated. Because this was how it always went. You looked him in the eyes again and exclaimed, “No, I don’t, Jaehyun. And you wanna know why? Because even after all these years together, we still don’t know how to make this work, and it never fucking will.”

Jaehyun couldn’t believe the words that were coming out of your mouth. Rather than try to hash things out with you, he stood up and said, “I’m going out for some fucking Frosted Flakes. You’ve lost it.”

Then, he left. Like he always did. 

You heaved a breath, irritated. All these years, he said. All those years wasted. All those years that you could have spent on something worthwhile and yet he’d stolen time from you. You just couldn’t put up with this bullshit anymore. 

That night, you slipped your engagement ring on his pinky finger and crept outside of the bedroom to dial a number. 

“Hey, I know it’s late, but can I stay the night? I need to book a flight.”

As soon as the next day, you were back. Again in the Los Angeles air, you felt like you could breathe again. That suffocating feeling that you got after Jaehyun popped up in your life out of nowhere completely dissipated. It felt more like those two months of relentless happiness you’d felt prior to his unannounced appearance. 

Months of happiness thanks to Haechan. Something about the thought of him made butterflies flitter about in your belly, but an acute pain spread throughout your chest like wildfire. You hadn’t called him like you said you would. And you didn’t really know why. 

You just couldn’t stop thinking about that night and how he wasn’t there. You didn’t see his message until after you got off the plane, a thoughtless response. Couldn’t get out of plans. Sorry. Ttyl. 

You faced reality and accepted that it wasn’t that he couldn’t be there. He just didn’t want to be. 

And then the unthinkable happened. Sitting in the corner of the cafe sketching, you glanced up when you heard the jingle of the bells announcing that somebody had walked in. You didn’t notice whoever walked inside, your eyes fixed out the window you’d accidentally brought your attention towards. 

All you could feel was a burning when you saw Haechan holding hands with some girl that was leaning against him, hanging on his every word. You didn’t even realize you were on the verge of breaking your pen until a friend you’d been there to meet tapped your shoulder, cocking you a worried look. 

It was a full-blown war. 

Not many days later, you were in the park, snapping pictures of the scenery. If Haechan wasn’t there to take you out on dates, you would take your damn self. Like hell you needed him to do anything. 

Then, you heard somebody call out your name, and spun around. “Oh, hey, Jeno.”

Jeno dug his hands into his sweatpants pockets, shooting you a grin. “Whatcha doing?”

“These are flowers. This is a camera. I’m photographing the flowers,” you deadpanned, obviously not in the best mood. Then again, that was just your usual bitchy attitude. 

“Ah.” Jeno crept closer, eyes giving you a quick scan. Not too close, but not too distant. “You like savoring the beautiful things in life?”

You snorted. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

When you least expected the action, Jeno gently took the camera out of your hands, earning a half baffled and half curious glance from your part. You hid your face when he pointed the camera at you. 

Your voice was muffled. “Jeno, what are you doing?”

“Savoring the beautiful things in life,” Jeno replied smoothly, just giving you that angelic smile of his as he continued to snap photos of you. 

Jeno pulled your hands away from your face and brushed a stray hair out of the way, looking at you with the gentlest touch but the least subtle eyes. “You are incredibly gorgeous,” he purred in the deepest tone.

Though you were tempted to roll your eyes, you had a moment of realization. There was a flash of rage that shot through your body like lightning. All you could see was those memories of Haechan’s endless flirtation playing back in your mind and it made you bristle. 

Rather than beat him, you joined Jeno, lashes fluttering. “You think so?”

“My eyes never deceive me,” Jeno said, looking you up and down with obvious want. 

“What about Haechan?”

Jeno seemed almost irritated at the mention of his friend’s name, gently pulling you just a bit closer to him. “He might have found you, but where I’m from, we play for keeps.”

You met his bold stare. “And you wanna keep me?”

“To say the least.”

You snickered. 

“Do you like steak?”

“I love steak.”

“That’s perfect, because I know a place. Five stars,” Jeno whispered huskily. “I’d like to take you out to dinner Friday night. What do you say?”

You pretended to mull it over, when in reality you’d been thinking about it for the past five minutes at length. Jeno had never been subtle with his flirty quips from the day he met you, in spite of the fact that you were Haechan’s date. Apparently there was no brotherly code. 

That, or he had absolutely zero regard for whatever it was. 

You chirped, “It’s a date.”

Even more days passed. Nothing from you. Haechan figured you were still in New York searching for work and whatnot, and, knowing how passionate you were about your job, didn’t dare disturb you. 

Though he would be lying if he said he didn’t miss you. 

“She’s back,” Jaemin said, sitting down at the table. 

Haechan furrowed his brows, asking, “Who?”

“Your girl, man,” Jaemin replied. “She’s back in town and she’s been going out with Jeno.”

Mark winced from across the table. “Damn.”

Haechan’s voice was low, almost like a mumble, “She didn’t tell me she was back.”

Jaemin patted him on the back. “I just thought you deserved to know, man.”

“You move too fast, dickhead. You probably scared the poor girl away,” Ryujin shot without looking away from her phone, playing a heated round of cup pong with Mark via iMessage games.

“She’s kinda right,” Jaemin agreed. “Slow and steady wins the race.”

Haechan took a much needed shot of liquor and grumbled, “Oh, shut the fuck up, Jaem. The whole reason Winter rejected your ass was because you were doing too much too fast.”

“And I revised my plan and made her mine. Isn’t that right, baby?” Jaemin asked, gaze flitting over to Winter. 

Winter giggled, leaning into his touch. “Right, baby.”

“You two make me sick.”

Winter quipped, “Jealous much?”

“Never in a million years.” Haechan grimaced. “I’m not drunk enough to put up with this right now.”

Ryujin exclaimed out of nowhere, “You limp dick bastard!” 

Mark was in the midst of a fit of giggles, laughing his ass off. “It’s one thing to suck at cup pong in real life, but you suck online, too?”

“I’m this close to deporting you back to Canada,” Ryujin hissed. 

Everybody froze when Jeno walked up to the table, taking a seat in front of Haechan. The whole spot was quiet. “What’s up, Haechan?” he asked. 

Haechan cocked his head. “What’s up, J? You been doing anything lately?”

“Fuck, yeah, man. I been doing a whole lot,” Jeno replied offhandedly. 

“Oh, yeah?” Haechan questioned. “Like what?”

Jeno shrugged, acting nonchalant. “Oh, you know. I’ve been out in the sun and shit. Getting things wet. Wallowing in the heat. Got a new boat.”

Winter grimaced. 

“Really?”

“Really,” Jeno repeated, locking eyes with Haechan. “See, I’ve been riding the wave lately.”

Haechan set his jaw, but played it cool. “That so?”

“You bet it is. Just been… cruising.”

“I think I test drove that model,” Haechan said with a little nod, picking up his glass. “Took it for a spin and all.”

Jeno narrowed his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. A couple of times.”

The tension at the table was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Jaemin and Winter got up to dismiss themselves with the excuse of wanting to be alone, while Mark and Ryujin sat there quietly, exchanging thoughts telepathically. Then, Jeno’s phone started to beep countless times. 

“I tell you, I hate when this happens,” Jeno sighed, taking out his phone and grinning slyly when he looked at the screen. “You know?”

Haechan quipped, “Mom keeps texting you, huh?”

“Not this time,” Jeno retorted. “This is one of my boating buddies.”

“Mm,” Haechan hummed, bristling at the thought. His whole body was cloaked in heat, a bite to his next words. “Well, I hope you don’t get thrown overboard. You’ve never been good at staying anchored.”

Jeno retaliated darkly, “You’d know a lot about that, wouldn’t you, Hyuck?”

Haechan lifted his shoulders. “Nah, you know me. I’m the captain. I invite the passengers on-board and I dismiss them. You tend to step on unfamiliar territory and get walked off the plank.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged identical glances. What the fuck are they talking about?

“But it’s okay. You can’t help it,” Haechan added, setting down his drink and rising to his feet. “Yo, Mark, Ryu, I’ll get with you guys another time. Later.”

Jeno chuckled. 

Ryujin cocked him a glance. “Aren’t you a little too old to be fighting over some babe?”

“Never, Ryu,” Jeno replied, laughing a little. “Plus, I can’t help it if I’m the chosen one.”

“Chosen one, my fucking ass.”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “You know you’re foul, right?”

Jeno groaned. “Foul for what, man?”

“Dude, come on. That girl shouldn’t even be anywhere on your radar. It’s like you were waiting for Haechan to slip up,” Mark replied with obvious disdain. 

“Whatever, man,” Jeno scoffed. “She chose me, alright? Take that up with god.”

Mark and Ryujin exchanged looks. 

A few dates with Jeno to forget the gaping hole Haechan had left in your heart ultimately came back with a bite. Jeno was sweet and all but you couldn’t feel a connection with him, something Haechan had made you feel within moments of your first date together. But you were still bitter. 

With that in mind, you kept up the act, all the while wondering if it was torture for him as much as it was for you. 

It wasn’t that you didn’t like Jeno. The dinners gave a nice first impression and he had an interesting personality. But no matter how much there was to like about Jeno’s indulgences and mesmerizing looks, he wasn’t Haechan. 

After a couple of weeks of dating, Jeno invited you to a party on a whim without much specifics and you spent the rest of your Thursday afternoon choosing an outfit. Maybe you wanted to look extra cute in case you made a special appearance in somebody’s Insta story and Haechan happened to see. 

It never crossed your mind that he might’ve physically been there. 

You locked arms with Jeno as you stepped into the party, allowing him to guide you throughout the house, weaving in and out of crowds of people. 

“‘Sup, guys,” Jeno greeted his clique when you both walked up to them.

You counted four faces and every single last one fell at the sight of you, their incessant chatter instantly ceasing. The lack of Haechan was very noticeable, but at the time, you were more concerned with how apparent it was that absolutely none of them knew you’d been invited. 

Clearing your throat in humiliation, you asked, “Um, where’s your bathroom?”

“Upstairs to the left,” Ryujin answered, but her face had yet to shift from that grim look. 

You thanked her and excused yourself, quickly fleeing up the steps and wishing some kind of chasm would open between them, swallowing you whole. 

Jeno glanced at Mark. “What up, Minhyung?”

Mark shook his head in disapproval. “Like I said. Foul.”

“Man, come the fuck on. Give me a break,” Jeno grumbled, irritated. This conversation was exhausting and it didn’t help the more it was had. 

Jaemin was wearing a reproachful frown, chastising, “That’s some fucked up shit, man. And you know what you’re doing is fucked up.”

“Pfft. Whatever.”

Jaemin narrowed his eyes and stood up straight. “Whatever?”

“Don’t,” Winter said swiftly, putting her hands on Jaemin’s chest. 

Ryujin crossed her arms, wearing the most withering scowl known to mankind. Her eyes cut at Jeno. “I’m disappointed in you.”

In that same second, Haechan stumbled from around the corner with a victorious smile that fell instantly once he caught a sight of Jeno. 

Mark scratched his head. Awkward, he mouthed to Ryujin.

She blew out a breath. 

Jeno scanned Haechan, smirking at him. “Yo, Donghyuck.”

Haechan mumbled a greeting, glancing away from Jeno. 

As if this whole ordeal didn’t already make you want to chew glass, it went from worse to worst the second you skipped down those stairs and stood next to Jeno, making eye contact with Haechan whose brows furrowed in shock. Your heart raced. This was without a doubt the most embarrassing moment of your life. 

You tapped Jeno on the arm. “You and me. Outside. Right now.” You brushed past him without waiting, immediately heading for the door. You couldn’t bear to be there for another second. Not like this.

Jeno eventually came outside the front door, calling out your name behind you as you ran down the stairs.

“Take me home now,” you demanded, pointing to his car parked right out front.

Jeno caught up to you, having the audacity to pretend to be confused, and asked, “Come on. What’s wrong?”

You gave him an incredulous look. Like you couldn’t believe he had the nerve to play dumb. “You just made a fucking fool out of me and I don’t like that shit. If you and Haechan wanna have a dick measuring contest, I want no parts.”

“Baby, I’m sorry,” Jeno apologized, reaching out to console you.

You snatched your arm away from him. “Don’t touch me. Just grab your keys and take me home.”

Jeno switched on a dime, hissing, “Like you didn’t think for one damn second that he was going to be here.”

You snapped, “No, because you gave me all of two seconds in advance to prepare and didn't have the decency to give me details!”

“And that’s my fucking problem how?”

“Jeno,” you snarled, taking a deep breath. He was really testing the last of your patience. “Are you gonna take me home or what?”

Jeno scoffed, “Hell the fuck no.”

“Un-fucking-believable,” you said, turning on your heels and stomping down the sidewalk. You were disappointed, but not surprised. 

“Walk!” Jeno exclaimed, turning around and heading back inside the house. 

Haechan glanced around when Jeno walked back over without you, baffled. “Where is she?”

Jeno exhaled a breath, stuffing a hand inside his pockets. “I don’t know,” he lied. 

Jaemin gave Jeno the utmost repulsive look. “You just left the woman outside? Don’t you know what kind of freaks walk around at night?”

Haechan didn’t bother to interrogate Jeno in spite of his questionably stupid actions, because even after all the weird shit going on between you two lately, he still had the decency to want to make sure you got home safe. He grabbed his coat and made a break for the door. 

Winter and Jaemin were shooting Jeno matching scowls. She grabbed her boyfriend’s hand and pulled him away wordlessly. Meanwhile, Ryujin had her arms folded snugly across her chest, clearly not pleased either. 

Jeno glanced down at her and barked, “What? You got something to say to me, Ryujin?”

“I don’t have a damn thing to say to you,” Ryujin hissed, following behind the couple. 

Which left Mark and Jeno. “You’re an asshole, dude,” Mark said. 

“Fuck you, man.”

Ryujin came back to grab Mark, leaving again this time with him in tow. 

All the while, Haechan was chasing you down the sidewalk, jogging to catch up to you. It was chilly outside, and he saw you wrap your arms around yourself to shield your bare skin from the nipping cold. 

Haechan called out your name. You could hear his footsteps just behind you. “Slow down.”

“I’m not in the mood to chat, Haechan,” you said, not glancing back. You couldn’t look into his eyes again. It nearly killed you the first time. 

“If you slow down, I can call you an Uber or something,” Haechan insisted.

All of your emotions hit you tenfold in that moment and you whipped around, exclaiming, “What do you want?”

“First of all, calm down. I know and you know that you don’t wanna be outside this late in this cold ass weather stomping down the street like somebody stole your fucking bike,” Haechan said even louder than you.

You scoffed, tightening your arms around your body. 

“Look,” he started, leaving a good distance between your bodies. “All I wanna do is get you home safely. No extra shit. I’ll call you an Uber and then it’ll be over.”

You couldn’t exactly argue with that. For fuck’s sake, Jeno - who had been your ride -  left you in the cold to die and you didn’t know your way around this area of town. With that in mind, you begrudgingly agreed. 

It was silent for a good while after Haechan called you an Uber. Neither of you said a word to each other, and you both stubbornly made sure that was extra space between your bodies while you waited. His leather jacket now being draped over your shoulders didn’t bother you in the slightest. 

Well, maybe that was a lie. You were bristling with sudden longing. Obviously, it smelled exactly like him. You were breathing him in even though he was what felt like worlds away from you. 

Haechan tried to resist his temper, but the dam ultimately broke and he snapped, “What the hell are you doing going out with Jeno? First you take flight to New York to see some dude, and then you’re fucking on one of my boys?”

The mention of New York and Jeno only fueled your flames and you shot back, “All you had to do was tell me that you were seeing somebody.”

“What are you talking about? I’m not seeing no one.”

“I saw you with her outside the fucking cafe next to the record store.”

“I’m always by the fucking record store,” Haechan exclaimed, throwing up his hands. “What are you talking about?”

You rolled your eyes. You had enough of men playing dumb with you for one night. Thankfully, the Uber pulled up just in time, and you sneered just as you got in the backseat, “You know what the hell I’m talking about.”

Haechan watched you get driven off, puzzled. Like you were speaking an entirely different language. And then it hit him. “Ryujin’s friend. Shit. God-fucking-dammit.”

He took out his phone and opened your text messages. Fuck, he hadn’t texted you in forever and a half. At least text me when you get back home so I know you’re safe. 

Haechan shoved his phone into his pockets, doubting you would reply. Imagine his surprise when his phone buzzed only a couple of moments later. Okay.

Sure, it was one word, but he would take it. One was better than nothing. Right now, he had to think of a way to salvage this relationship. 

The first thing you did when you were safely back inside your condo was text Haechan that you were back home safe and block Jeno’s number. Then, you took off all your makeup and prepared to take a long, scalding shower. You didn’t even realize Haechan hadn’t asked for his jacket back until you went to undress yourself. 

Many thoughts were weighing on your mind as the hot water hit your skin. You felt like an idiot. For going to see Jaehyun, for entertaining Jeno’s fuckboy tendencies. But worst of all, for wishing your feelings for Haechan would go down the drain. 

You had finally come to terms with the fact that your heart wanted Haechan, even if it took a long time to accept and even if you were in denial that you couldn’t have him. You worried that you had already fucked things up too much. And you worried that you never had a chance to begin with. 

There was very little room for misunderstanding in the fact that you were easily replaceable. It was borderline offensive how quick Haechan was to pop out with a new chick while you were away. Like all of those months together meant nothing to him. Your biggest fear was that they were only special to you. 

You cried yourself to sleep that night. You’d lost the game. Again. Maybe you were just bad at love. You figured you would probably do everyone and yourself a huge favor if you stopped involving your heart and focused on your career like you always wanted.

So, you decided that that was what you were going to do. 

Neither you or Haechan spoke to each for weeks. Sitting on your bed, you wondered if he was thinking about you and what went wrong. If he was as fucked up and heartbroken as you were.  Maybe you did it to yourself. Something told you not to fool around with Haechan too much, after all, but you still kept him close because you were human and you wanted to be loved. 

All you knew was that you couldn’t stay here, sitting in ruins over a boy you couldn’t have. When Jaehyun cheated on you, you felt dirty and lacked the strength to rouse out of bed in the mornings. You couldn’t let yourself steep to that point of misery over something you couldn’t even call a break-up. 

You glanced at your phone. Should you have called him? Maybe you should have at least texted him, since you didn’t do either when you came back from New York. 

Almost worlds away from you, Haechan was sitting by his phone with the same thoughts wearing him thin. You were wearing him thin. He wanted to call you, but if you thought you were stubborn, Haechan gave you a run for your money. 

You said you’d let him know when you were back and Haechan waited and waited. You never called. Not one fucking time. So why should he have called you?

Because you love her, hissed the voice in his head that made Haechan roll his eyes in annoyance. He was past denying the truth, but he was terrified of confronting it. Loving you made his blood chill with fear. It wasn’t a question of whether or not you loved him back. It was if you loved him enough to make it work.

His emotions were all over the place. First of all, he was spiteful and wanted to hate you. He was angry. For fuck’s sake, you went out with Jeno for what - to make him jealous?

But on the other hand, all those memories you’d made with each other weren’t simple to forget. Every time Haechan closed his eyes, he saw you. Your gorgeous smile and twinkling eyes. He could taste your chapstick on his tongue and feel your warmth in his arms, as if you were some lingering ghost that was haunting him in spirit. He could hear your laughter ringing in his ears as he told you a stupid joke solely to make you laugh. 

Jesus fucking Christ. Haechan had been in love, but never like this. Your love was mind-numbing. No girl had ever made him feel this many emotions all at once. You made him want to scream and shout, but you made him want to smile. You made a void ache in his chest. 

Haechan’s phone started to ring. He scolded himself for immediately hoping that it was you finally calling him like you should have weeks ago, but was disappointed when he saw it was Chaewon. But his curiosity got the best of him and he brought the phone to his ear, answering, “Hello?”

“Hey, Haechan,” Chaewon greeted somewhat somberly. 

Haechan could immediately tell that something was off. He could hear it in her tone. “What’s up, Chaewon?”

“It’s about your girl,” Chaewon said, sullen. She was obviously very worried. “She’s going away for a few months. She got a deal out of state and they’re flying her out.”

Haechan set his jaw. You were leaving - again. And he had to find out about your whereabouts through somebody else. Again. “Oh. Good for her, I guess,” he replied indifferently. 

Chaewon snapped, “Don’t give me that nonchalant bullshit, Haechan. You know and I know that you both care about each other. Now, listen. She’s my best friend and the love of my life, but I understand that she hasn’t been making the best decisions lately.”

Haechan interjected, “So what? I should go clean up her mess? I’m not her man and I’m damn sure not her fucking daddy, Chaewon.”

“Don’t start getting an attitude with me,” Chaewon hissed. “If you’d let me finish, I was going to say that her flight leaves today at four. I just thought you deserved to know that. It’s not your job to finish what she started, but if you still want to, you know where to find her.”

Haechan heaved a breath. 

Chaewon added, “It’s up to you. I think you two could set things straight if you communicated with each other for once. But if you don’t want that, then forget I said anything. I just thought with how adamant you were on pursuing her that you would be the last person to give up on her. Maybe I was wrong.”

Haechan sighed. Again. His head was throbbing. “I’ll think about it,” he finally exhaled after a moment or two. 

“Okay. Bye, Haechan.”

Haechan spent all of three hours debating whether or not he should have come to see you. He was still bitter over the lack of communication, but after a moment of pondering in silence, realized that was why you two were in this predicament in the first place.

If he would have been honest about how he felt about you going to New York, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe you would’ve never left. Never entertained Jeno. You would’ve stayed in his arms where you rightfully belonged. 

After all this time, he realized something. His open arms would still be waiting for you when you were ready to come back to them. Fear corrupted Haechan when he had a thought. The fear of you never coming back. What if you went away for months and met a different guy that you liked? What if you never came back?

He wasn’t ready to lose you, he quickly realized. He wasn’t ready to give you away either. The first thing he thought when you told him about your ex was that that guy was a dumbass for kicking you to the curb. 

And if Haechan thought he was stubborn, his heart was going to put both of you to shame. 

Haechan grabbed his keys and burst out the front door like lightning, immediately mounting his bike. Even the damn bike reminded him of you as he probably broke the law with how quickly he was speeding. On a motorcycle, we get to dodge all the traffic.

He looked everywhere for you. Every corner he turned, there were people living their day-to-day lives, giving the guy running through the airport like he was playing Subway Surfers a brief, baffled look. Haechan didn’t care. He didn’t give a flying fuck who thought what about him, unabashedly in love with you. He would shout it out in front of all of these strangers if that was what it took.

Finally, he saw you, closing in on your terminal. He shouted your name loud enough to disturb some people and earn a couple of disdainful glances from onlookers. 

You turned around, recognizing that voice before you saw his face. 

Your heart raced when you saw Haechan jogging over to you and for a moment you were pleased to see him, but then you remembered how ruined you were because of him. You pretended not to care and sneered, “If you’re here to get your jacket back, you’re out of luck. I already checked in and I don’t have my luggage.”

“Damn that jacket,” Haechan hissed, his blood pumping a billion times per second. Only half it was because of how fast he ran. “I can’t let you leave like this. Not when we have so much unfinished business to work through.”

You barked, “Me and you are nothing. We have nothing.”

“Really?” Haechan asked, staring at you in disbelief. “All those months together meant nothing to you?”

Those words reminded you of that night at Jaehyun’s place, as well as the fact that Haechan couldn’t have cared about you, which only made you bristle. You lied through your teeth, “Nothing.”

Haechan switched on a diming, changing tactics, and hissed, “Bull-fucking-shit. I spent so many nights waiting for you to call. You never did. I could have got at least a fucking text or something. But you know what I got instead? Nothing. A whole lotta nothing! I had to find out from somebody else that you’re back and then you go out with Jeno.”

All you could do was give him an ugly scowl. How dare he march up in here to shout in your face? Like you were the villain. “I waited for you to show up. You never did! You said you were busy, but you were at the fucking club. Don’t even lie because I saw Jaemin’s story.”

Fuck, you saw that? “So, I go out and have a couple of drinks and you decide you want to fuck Jeno?”

“Are you fucking serious right now?” you seethed. “All I wanted was for you to kiss me goodbye, but you stood me up so that you could drink and get laid. I saw you outside the cafe with the girl. That’s why I didn’t call you.”

Haechan softened in realization, understanding that he had fucked up more than he thought. Still, he kept riling you up. It was the only way you both would get answers. 

“You went off to New York to fuck your ex,” Haechan reminded. “I don’t see why it’s a big deal that I got laid too.”

You exclaimed, “I didn’t want to go to New York!”

“Then, why the fuck did you?”

You ran your fingers through your hair. He was just so good at getting under your skin. You confessed morosely, “Because when I had sex with you, it felt like we were making love. I was in denial about loving you, because I didn’t want to take the risk of getting my heart broken again.”

Haechan wasn’t sure what he was expecting you to say, but it wasn’t that. He was positively stunned to silence.

“Jaehyun asked me a couple of weeks before that to come to New York. And I wasn’t going to, but I was conflicted. And you acted like you didn’t care, so,” you explained yourself rapidly. “I went there to see if I still loved him, but all I harbored when I got there was resentment.”

God, I am a fucking idiot, Haechan hissed to himself. He swore he wasn’t going to fuck this one up. 

“Then, I started going out with Jeno, thinking I could get back at you while also proving to myself that I wasn’t in love,” you whispered. “But he wasn’t you. That was when I knew you’ve ruined me.”

“You’ve ruined me too,” Haechan said softly, approaching you a little further. “She’s not you. I want you to know that. I only hooked up with her because I was upset and I wanted to distract myself from you.”

You were silent. His words weren’t exactly comforting, but you were both finally being honest with each other. And yourselves. 

Haechan grabbed your hand in his, locking eyes with yours. “I fucked up. I should’ve been here the first time, but I wasn’t.”

Your eyes watered and no matter how hard you blinked, you couldn’t battle the tears. “Why didn’t you tell me how you felt about me going to New York? It would have mattered.”

“Because I didn’t want to seem like I was trying to control you,” Haechan replied, a well of regret and self-loathing. “I was trying to respect your decision.”

You chortled through your tears. “A gentleman to your core.”

Haechan shook his head, frowning. “In retrospect, there are so many things I could have done better. Maybe I was moving too fast for you, baby, and I’m sorry. I get a little overzealous.”

“Trust me, Haechan. You’re just the right amount of zealous.”

Haechan snickered. Leave it to you to make him laugh even during a moment like this.

Now that you both had cleared the air, you felt like there was a weight off your chest. You could understand each other and rationalize the other’s actions. You should have just talked a long time ago. 

“I didn’t fuck Jeno,” you blurted. “Or my ex.”

Haechan hung his head. “I’m sorry for accusing you of that. And for not being honest about my feelings.”

“I forgive you,” you spoke softly. “I’m sorry for not calling you and for going out with your friend.”

“He’s not my friend,” Haechan said like he was repulsed. “You helped me see that, so I forgive you.”

Your lips broke into a grin when he wiped a tear from your eyes. 

Haechan’s expression suddenly turned sober and he declared, “I wanna start over.”

“Haechan…,” you started.

He shushed you. “I’m not the easiest person to get to know but half of it is because nobody ever gives me a chance. People look at me and see what they want to see. They think they’ve got me all figured out.”

That was true. You knew it, because you had been one of those people. You got your heart broken by a fuckboy once and Haechan made it way too easy to assume he was the same. 

“Even if I broke your heart, I wanna put it back together again,” Haechan continued. “Will you let me do that?”

God, your whole being was consumed by. The love you had for this boy was all-consuming. You just wanted to be with him for the rest of your life. “Yes. You already know I will.”

Haechan smiled triumphantly. All he knew was you. If he couldn’t have you, he didn’t know what he would do with himself. 

“But I’m literally leaving for three months,” you reminded him, a frown on your face. 

The reminder jolted Haechan back into reality, but he knew better than to ask you to stay. He knew you loved your work and he wouldn’t dare come between that bond. “You remember what I told you on our first date? About dating long distance?”

Your frown got bigger. “Yeah. That you didn’t know if you could make it work for me, but you would at least try.”

“I changed my mind,” Haechan told you, looking at you with all the love in the universe. “I don’t give a fuck what I have to do to make it work. I don’t care how hard I have to try. I love you and I’m willing to sacrifice everything for us.”

All you could do was stare into his eyes. Those three words made your head spin. He loved you. “Really?”

Haechan bobbed his head. “I’ll call you every day. I’ll text you good morning when I wake up and goodnight before I go to bed. But you have to meet me halfway.”

“I’ll meet you in the middle,” you said in a heartbeat. “I’ll text you every time I think about you. We can watch stupid romcoms then talk about them over the phone. I’ll call you and tell you how my days are going.”

“I want to hear all of it. The good days and the bad ones too. I wanna be there for you,” Haechan whispered tenderly.

“You can do all of that.”

“You promise?”

You nodded. “It’s gonna take some effort, but… I know we can make us work. You just have to accept that I need space sometimes and I don’t always make sense.”

Haechan snorted. Like he didn’t already know that. “No offense, but I think we just had a crash course on that, baby.”

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t fight it anymore and smashed your lips against his, bringing him in for a kiss. They called for passengers to board. Haechan’s hands were quick to grab your waist, holding you tight like he didn’t want to let you get on that plane. But he once heard that if you love someone, you’ll let them go. So, that was what he was going to do. 

When you pulled back, Haechan said, “Promise when you get back we’re gonna watch a really cheesy movie together and dance to MJ.” 

You chuckled, slipping your fingers through his and squeezing. “I’ll save the date.” 

Haechan smiled, letting out a breath. “Bye, baby.”

“See you later,” you whispered, almost like you didn’t want to go. But you knew you would regret not getting on that plane. “I mean it this time.”

Haechan snorted. Finally, after exchanging one last kiss, he let you go. 

He watched you slip away. There was a familiar feeling taut around his heart, but he toughed it out. You’re gone again, but that’s okay. Because this time, I know you’ll come back. 

“I’ll wait for you,” Haechan whispered to himself, turning away once you were out of his sight. 

[oookay68]

An Unexpected Plus One

Luke Castellan x gn!reader

Word Count: 1186

Summary: Luke sneaks into your bed after a particularly bad nightmare only to find something unexpected

Warnings: none

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A hot night in August followed an even hotter day. As Apollo’s golden chariot descended, Artemis’ silver took its place and with it, the stars. The once loud and busy camp is now deserted, traces of the day’s activities evident on the ground. Disturbed grass, arrows strewn messily by the targets, unorganized climbing equipment by the lava wall. In the dead of night, Camp Half-Blood was silent. 

Save for the cicadas buzzing throughout the night. The mixture of the familiar bugs and the humid air brought a smell of warmth and comfort to one Luke Castellan. He quietly crept out of Cabin Eleven, cautiously avoiding puddles of mud and cringing every time his shoe squelched in the wet grass. 

It was common for him to sneak out of the cabin in the black night. Nightmares plagued every demigod and every one dealt with them in different ways. Luke’s favorite way was to crawl into your bed and seek the comfort of your arms and smell. It was a ritual that you both did. Falling asleep with each others’ warmth was the only way you guys could rest after whatever demigod dreams you had. 

Luke thought about his dream on the way to your cabin. A disembodied voice whispering in his ear to steal. The object itself was unclear. But it wasn't like stealing was a foreign concept to Luke or that he felt it was a moral wrong. He was the son of Hermes, he and his siblings had a knack for thievery and were kleptomaniacs to varying extents. 

He ducked behind the front porch of your cabin when one of the lights turned on. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for a harpy to come out and bust him for breaking curfew. When nothing came he continued on, muttering something about a stupid motion light. 

Luke pressed his face to your window. It was one he could find in his sleep, in fact, you once woke up to him repeatedly sleepwalking into your window. It was a memory that you would never let him forget no matter how hard he tried, a swim in the River Lethe wouldn’t be enough to erase that from your mind. He peeked through the window and smiled when he saw your face, peacefully asleep facing him.

Quietly sliding the window open, Luke stepped in and slipped off his shoes, knowing how much you hate dirty sheets. Your small bed faced the wall so he had to awkwardly throw his sneakers onto the wooden floor before he gently stepped onto your bed. You turned onto your back and mumbled something in your sleep that sounded a little bit like a cat’s meow. 

Luke stroked your hair softly and pressed a warm kiss on your forehead before crawling underneath the covers with you. When he laid down he was met with strong resistance. Sleep deprived and uncaring, he persevered and wrapped his arm around your frame. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off before being rudely jolted awake with a kick to his side.

He bit back a groan of pain before shoving your light limbs over onto your side and snuggling into your neck. Another hit to his side disturbed his attempt at falling asleep. But you were still blissfully asleep, unaware of your sleeping jabs. 

Luke did his best to ignore your kicks and just assumed that you were having nightmares too. With that thought he kissed your head again and pulled you into him. But his mind wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Vigilant of your sleepy assaults, Luke stayed awake and stared at the bottom of the bunk above, focusing on your breathing. 

Your heavy breathing reminded him that you were still alive, that you both were still alive. Usually he lets you sleep and waits until the morning to talk about the nightmares but something about this one disturbed him. Your chest moved up and down, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling and then exhaling again. 

Wait, what?

Luke sat up and looked at your rising and falling chest. A sleepy, “ow” drew his eyes to your face. You were still knocked out as if you were Hypnos himself. A sharp punch into his side startled him. Luke lifted the sheets up quickly and let out a surprised, “oh” when another pair of eyes stared back at him. 

“Who are you?” the quiet voice asked him groggily.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry I think I wandered into the wrong bed by mistake.” Luke said. It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret but it was private. And he had to think of a fast explanation for the seven year old currently occupying your bed. 

The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Why are you here?”

“Uhm…”

You started stirring awake and lifted your arm to crack your knuckles and elbow. Slowly opening your eyes, you stroked your little sister’s hair before Luke’s red face caught your attention. Even in the darkness of the night you could tell how embarrassed he was by the sheer heat his body was radiating, preparing his body for a fight or flight scenario. 

“Baby?” You croak, voice deep with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Luke smiles sheepishly and pats your sister’s head. “Just uh, wanted to make sure that you guys were sleeping well.” He shoots an awkward glance at the seven year old sitting on your leg. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

It hits you slowly that there’s only one reason as to why he’s sneaked into your bed in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t to do any nefarious activities. “Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, uhm…this is Lacy, she’s my little sister. She was a little homesick so I let her sleep with me.”

Luke smiles genuinely, you’re always there for your younger siblings, taking on a parental role for the young ones who miss home or have never felt that kind of love. He looks down at your sister and pats her shoulder, “You’re lucky to have Y/N as a sibling, Lacy.”

Now fully awake, Lacy gives him a toothless smile. “I know.” She says sweetly and lays back down to snuggle into your embrace. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll head back.” Luke says.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry Luke, we can make some space.” You pick up Lacy easily and move her to the wall. It was no wonder why your leg felt so light to Luke. Lacy was so small and looked five rather than seven.

“No no, it’s fine.” He looked at the small single bed that held the three of you, “Three’s a crowd, I didn’t know that I’d be an unexpected plus one.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. You’d hate to leave him alone especially after he just had a nightmare. “It’s no problem at all.”

Luke shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gingerly kisses your lips and Lacy squirms and shies away from you two. “Sleep well you two.”

[ivysangel]

hello angel 💕

as much as i love confident, cocky jason in bed, i also think he doesn’t have a lot of experience (just go with me here). between dying young and his all consuming question for revenge, i don’t think he’s actually had that many sexual partners or relationships. simply where would he find the time? like he’s familiar with the mechanics, knows what feels good and how to make a partner feel good, but he doesn’t really have a frame of reference for his preferences.

but that’s the exciting part! he gets to discover what really turns him on and gets him off with you! he figures out that he likes pinning you down and immobilizing you with his body but that ropes are a no go. that fucking you through at least four of your own orgasms first has him cumming so hard there’s stars in his vision. that he doesn’t like pain unless it’s from your nails clawing up his back. everything’s up for grabs and you get to figure it all out with him.

sunnie (@fic-over-cannon)

let out audible noises reading this...my entire body is tingling sunnie like you just CANNOT do this to me. i really don't even...how do i add to this??? what do i say other than i love you!!!!

this basically being the precursor to confident jason?? the first time you guys have sex, it's pretty vanilla, he makes you cum regardless, and it's still amazing and better than most guys with experience, but you can tell he's still a bit unsure of himself. he still hesitates to move too quickly, he's still scared to hurt you, and he still asks, "is this okay?" and "does this feel good?" but not in a sexy "i want to hear you" kinda way, in an "i'm worried i'm doing a bad job" kinda way.

like i said, the sex was never bad, but boy, does it get better when he discovers what he likes. you're play fighting when he finds out he likes it when you can't move under him. he's got you pinned between him and your living room carpet, trying to get out from his hold, and he's literally got a growing boner pressed into you through his pants. ropes are a no-go because not only does he have awful memories associated with them, but the prospect of not being able to touch you and you not being able to touch him pisses him off.

he finds out he likes it when you leave scratches on him one random night after you successfully sneak out of a wayne enterprises gala. expensive shoes and an even more expensive dress on the floor, but those pretty red nails you'd gotten on a whim stay attached to your fingers, leaving bright red lines up and down his back.

he likes it when you wear lingerie but thinks it's hotter when you wear cute matching pajama sets. he's fond of red, but green's his favorite color; you have to stay vigilant with birth control around christmas time. he'll never do public places but a bathroom or car here and there he won't say no to. he likes sex in the morning and in the shower. he likes it in the kitchen and on the couch but prefers the bed. he's not opposed to the floor, but he'll only do it there when he's desperate.

he gets turned on when you show interest in his hobbies and even more turned on when you talk about yours. he likes overstimulating you but not to the point where you're in pain, and he loves getting head but loves eating you out more.

his biggest turn-on is verbal consent; he wants to hear that you want him, and if you want him to do anything unconventional in any way, that's how you go about it. tell him in the middle of dinner how badly you need him, and he'll politely excuse you from the table, drive you guys a few miles away and then pull over and fuck you silly.

[shadowyhideoutpeace]

Moon Knight Fic Recs.

LIST FULL PART 2

Fluff

Plenty of cuddles for everyone

Chamber of Reflection

Birdy

Because I'm in Love with You

Love You the Same

From Dust

Head over heels Steven Grant

the morning after

for all you give (i’ll give it back to you)

love you like the sun came out

Comfort

cuddle quota

Just a Kiss

Best day of my life

Frightful

Stargazing

Dyed Hair Disaster

Roses for The Strange Man

Coffee and Kisses

Secret Identities pt.2

Keep The Secret?

sky and stars (AO3)

clumsy

Moments - Part 2

Moon Nights

here with you

Won’t Say I’m In Love

The Tongue Thing

Dress Up

drunk

"did you bring a jacket?"

HAVING A BABY WITH OSCAR ISAAC’S CHARACTERS

Angst

Softcore

Loss

Everything

Comfort

Spare Key

Panic

Resolutions | 𝚊𝚙𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚘𝚜𝚒𝚜 | Aspiration

Smoke and Mirrors | The truth is Rarely Kind (S&M pt.2) | pt. 3

𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐬

you know it's not the same | as it was

Lioness —> Moon Knight

Old friends → moon knight

perfect strangers

Bloody Hands

Scarred

Hospital Bed Confessions

Loveless God

An Eye For An Eye

Finishing the Job

Night Owl

dlz ; jake lockley.

Opia

Homecoming

You're my emergency

Stop Dead

“i’m tired of having to pretend we hate each other.”

the break-up

Blood at the corner of your mouth

Deserve

Smut

Too Good to be True

Fit To Burst

where lust ends, and love begins

While We Untangle

Cant fight the moonlight

Keep your vigils on the road

Monday mornings

fire & desire

Where To, Miss?

Gift of Min

THANK GODS (I) | THANK GODS (II)

First-Aid

Series

Red Flags

Moonstuck (AO3)

Moonknight/Eternals Crossover *

Reverence for the moon

GHOST-BLOOD//REVENANT: MASTERPOST

Sleep With Me, Anytime

Make Your Acquaintance Masterlist

Goodbye, My Dear Stranger

My You-niverse

Full Masterlists

obnoxioussmiley's Moonknight masterlist

Bibli0thecary Moonknight masterlist

Charnelhouse Moonknight Masterlist (SMUT 18+)

Bensolosbluesaber's Moonknight Masterlist

Stormkobra-5's Moonknight Masterlist

Blurbs/HCs

Living With Steven Grant Would Include…

HC for the other moon Boys reacting to the reader saying they’re pregnant

Head cannons abt the moon boys for the soul <3

[megtrns]

seasonal anthologies ft. the mtmte bots, sfw !

summer is for celebrations and driving down to the beach with drift, where the air hot and thick despite the setting sun in the distance. you stick your head out the passenger window to feel the wind rushing past your ears, the excited roar of his engines bouncing off the cliffside. it's sitting on rodimus's shoulders as he runs past the shore, the spray of cold water making you squeal into the side of his helm. june, july, august — salt dissolves in your mouth while thunder rumbles in the distance. you sit by the steps of your porch with swerve, the air heavy with heat. as if the earth was holding its breath in anticipation, waiting to break and give way to rain. his big, blocky fingers awkwardly tearing through an orange for you to eat. saccharine and sticky, the fruit drips down your forearms with every bite. green is the grass between your toes, grey is the sky as it melts to nightfall. summer is when the mattress dips unequally to one side, where you and tailgate sleep back to back, skin to metal. the warmth sinks into your bone, blanket on the floor as the faint whirring of his systems lulls you to sleep. fall is for new beginnings, shorter days, and knitted scarves. where the sunlight is lighter and softer, casting long, golden shadows across ratchet's face. he displaces his mass to help you tie your coat by its belt, pulling you closer to soak in the heat radiating off his chassis—soft wool between his shiny servos. september bleeds into october, and somewhere between, where the air is so clean it shivers, cyclonus walks next to you in muted contemplation. optics quietly taking in the ocean of leaves crunching underneath his pedes. cinnamon between your teeth as you swallow your longing, fingers tracing over the holo-picture of skids. nautica says the muted colors remind her of him, but she blames it on the morning chill creeping past her cables. you tell her that fall is the season of reminiscing, of missing what is gone and what is yet to come — the ending and beginning of things, the place where all things come to die. the soil is soft and the world is asleep. this is the part where you turn off the lights and leave.

winter is for joy and relaxation, november a mosaic of warm orange windows and deep blue nights, where the moonshine falls thin and silver. minimus is determined to keep you from straying off the path, guiding you through the thick heap of snow — arms intermingled, hand and servo intertwined. your laughter rings into the night like bells, airy and light; a quiet wish, a happy prayer. for some, december is asleep. it's reclusive and shy, just like rung when he gives in to your request to stay inside, submitting to the weight of the duvet as it swallows you both. for others, the darkness only makes them vigilant. optics wide awake, prowl slinks back into the shadows, pale like the blizzard, soundless like a secret. early mornings and frozen lakes, megatron tells you the winter is cruel — barren and empty, silencing the earth. you disagree, telling him that winter is full of hope, where the snow is white with the promise of forgiveness. the promise to begin again.

spring is for waking up under the sun, where the light kisses your cheeks and shoulders; brainstorm suddenly envious of the star. you chew berries against the bark of an old, dying tree. skin buzzing with a new kind of energy, heart bursting at the sight of perceptor studying the small animals in the distance. in february, you stretch your arms to welcome a night of storms. in march, you patiently listen to whirl complain about the pollen in his cogs. finally, in april, the air is alive, sweet and rosy, laughing and singing. first aid lifts you with his open palm, across a running stream, down a winding, rocky path. somewhere behind you, misfire raises his helm to the clear, cloudless sky. drowning himself in the sound of strange birds and even stranger insects. there is a tenderness to all of this, capricious and fickle, flowers buried in the wash of green grass. a dream you don't want to wake up from, an embrace you're not ready to part with. nightbeat says he hates when beautiful things are fleeting, and you think he's no longer referring to the spring, optics sad and distant as they land on you.

[yoonavii]

Whispers in the Night (pt. 1)

OPLA! Sanji x Reader

A/N: I’ve decided to try writing in third person. It was a little difficult since im accustomed to writing in second, but I wanted to try something new. Hope you guys enjoy :)

The Going Merry sailed steadily under the vast canopy of stars, its wooden frame creaking softly as it glided through the calm waters of the Grand Line. The night was serene, the sky adorned with a tapestry of twinkling stars. On the ship, the Straw Hat Pirates rested, each finding their own corner of the ship to slumber. Amid the quietude of the night, you had somehow found yourself nestled in Sanji’s bunk. Such sleeping arrangements were not unusual among the Straw Hat crew; the bonds of camaraderie ran deep, and sharing bunks had become a natural occurrence.

As the night deepened, Sanji quietly entered his cabin. He had been engrossed in a late-night cooking session, his culinary skills dedicated to providing his crewmates with the best possible meal for the next day’s adventures. He didn’t want to disturb your slumber but felt an inexplicable urge to check on you. The soft, diffused light from the porthole bathed the room in a gentle, amber hue. Sanji’s sharp eyes fell upon your form, resting peacefully in his bunk, illuminated by the faint moonlight. In your sleep, you clutched a plushie close to your chest, your lips curled into a serene smile.

With the grace that was second nature to him, Sanji silently approached your sleeping figure. A sense of tenderness washed over him as he observed your relaxed expression; you looked like an angel in repose. And then, as if carried by the whispering night breeze, he heard it—a soft, barely audible whisper that made his heart skip a beat.

“Sanji…”

He blinked, questioning whether he had imagined it. But there it was again, your sweet voice, calling his name. It was soft and tender, like the murmur of leaves in a gentle breeze. Sanji’s heart quickened as he leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. He realized that you were not awake; you were deep in the throes of a dream. Somehow, he had become a part of your dreamscape.

A faint blush warmed his cheeks. Hearing you say his name, not in distress or worry but with a happy lilt, filled him with a sense of wonder and delight. It was as though, in the sanctuary of your dreams, you were expressing a sentiment that your waking self might never utter. Sanji listened attentively, his azure eyes focused solely on you. He couldn’t help but smile, a mixture of joy and tenderness swelling in his chest. Your sleeping form and the way you softly murmured his name were enchanting, like a melody that had been composed just for him.

Respecting your slumber, Sanji decided not to wake you. He settled into a nearby chair, his gaze fixed on you with an affectionate and protective air. The moonlight played upon your features, casting gentle shadows, and painting you in an ethereal light. As the night wore on and the Going Merry continued its tranquil journey, your dreams seemed to grow brighter. The happiness that radiated from you, accompanied by those whispered words, filled Sanji’s heart with warmth and contentment.

He knew that when morning came, you might not remember these moments, but he would cherish them. Sanji remained in his quiet vigil, watching over you as the night unfolded—a silent promise that he would always be there, both in your dreams and in the waking world, to protect and care for you. And so, the night on the Going Merry continued, two souls intertwined in the realm of dreams, a secret confession of affection exchanged through whispered words—a promise that would endure long after the stars had faded into morning’s dawn.

©𝐘𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐈— Any sign/evidence of plagiarism made from outside this name will be dealt with by whatever means necessary. Legal action may occur if non fanfiction works are plagiarized.

[lets-try-some-writing]

The Rites of Cybertron

Cybertronians are not without religion, nor are they lacking in holidays. While there are plenty of smaller ones scattered across the planet for various city states and historical events, Cybertronians have thirteen major holidays in celebration of the original thirteen. Although the celebrations are far less religious than the Primacy would like.

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The Rite of Prima

It is customary for every able bodied mech to endure the rite of Prima once a vorn on a pre-selected cycle that changes every few millennia. It is by far one of the most loathed or loved holidays. It completely depends on who is engaging in it.

The practice begins the moment the light of the nearest star touches Cybertron's surface. Every mech who is capable must then select a weapon and stand guard in absolute silence in a safe location of their choice. Rain or shine, they must keep to their station stoically until the local priest of the Primacy rings a bell just before sundown. Failure to stand guard will have them marked and prohibited from the remainder of the activities. All of this is done in remembrance of Prima's long watch and his supervision of Cybertron during its early history. It doesn't matter if anyone actually believes that is what went down. Not when they know that if they follow the tradition, the fun will begin in no time.

As soon as the bell is rung, that's when the true joy of the holiday begins. Every mech who stood guard is legally allowed to engage in a spar with whoever they make optic contact with first. The loser has a mark placed on their frame to indicate their loss and the winners will travel around their city state to fight other victors until one comes out on top. The victor of each city state (if a victor is found before the following cycle that is), will then be presented with a reward of their choosing by the Primacy. It is often so rare for a winner to turn up before the next morning that it is a grand event when one mech actually comes out on top.

Most are not fond of this holiday since it can lead to extreme crime spikes, but police are always on patrol and are forbidden to engage in the holiday so that they can stop troublemakers who wish to use the holiday as their chance to create chaos. Oftentimes, fights between high ranking combatants will be put on television for the population to watch throughout their activities. Those who don't participate will make bets.

All in all, it is one of the least reverent of holidays, but a well needed excuse for Cybertronian citizens to settle their scores legally and in a nonlethal manner. Although it has been said that long ago, Prima's rite was far more... mystical. A few who still follow the old faith have stated that when they hold their vigil, they maintain it for the entire cycle and in turn find themselves strengthened for trials to come.

The Rite of Recollection

The Rite of Recollection is a holiday devoted to Vector Prime and serves as an excuse for Cybertronian citizens to indulge in the wonders of the stars. While primarily focused around the young, The Rite of Recollection is a time for all of Cybertron. Mecha young or old will travel from every single corner of Cybertron in order to gather around with family or open locations for one sole purpose.

They gather to witness the stars.

Every light is turned off, save for the most essential. Work is put on hold, school is canceled, and not a spark is allowed to have a light brighter than a candle. All of Cybertron goes dark and its citizens come together quietly to watch as Cybertron finishes its rotation and a rare meteor shower graces the skies. The young are regaled with information on Cybertron's solar system and given sparklers to chase each other with in symbolization of Vector Prime's purpose as a keeper of space. Couples have been known to go out of their way to hunt down fragments of the meteors that land on the planet's surface to create gifts. Mentors will take the opportunity to witness constellations usually invisible due to light pollution. Vendors will sell trinkets modeled after the holiday, and quiet night markets will appear and promptly vanish over the course of a cycle.

Most of the cycle is laid back. The only ones who are frantic are the priests of the Primacy who throw their very sparks into recording as much as physically possible and try to collect as much meteor as they can. There are beliefs that the shards of meteor bring good luck, and the priests take that to another level and believe them to be a gift from Vector Prime himself that was sent from his divine domain amidst the space between the stars.

The Rite of Wisdom's Vigil

Modeled after the recorder Prime (Alpha Trion), Wisdom's Vigil is a deca-cycle long event dedicated to messing with everyone's perspectives. It was highjacked during the height of the golden age as a way to earn additional shanix through underhanded means, but its original purpose was quite clear. And despite the corruption, the Primacy was still able to maintain the event well enough to keep it going without completely losing its meaning.

Traditionally during Wisdom's Vigil, all Cybertronians under a certain age and with no serious health conditions, would be shipped to different parts of the planet to study a new culture and under a new mentor. It was one of the greatest student exchanges on the planet, and its entire function was to show citizens how others lived. With the Council's corruption, this ability to exchange students was limited to the higher castes and served as a form of political warfare amongst the higher castes. However, those who were able to engage in the holiday were required to adapt.

A mech from Iacon sent to Kaon would be taught the ways of Kaon and have to integrate into the culture as seamlessly as possible while serving under a new mentor in what was likely a completely different field than the one they were used to. A mech from Rodion sent to Praxus would need to roger up and adapt really quick just as much as a mech from Tarn would need to get used to falling a lot while being sent to Vos. Was the holiday chaotic? Absolutely. But it always yielded interesting results and gave every city a chance to share their culture. There have been many immigrants to various city states after those who engaged in the holiday found they preferred one culture over the one they were forged into.

The older Cybertronians who are not mentoring or being mentored have their own way of celebrating. The non religious will go to their closest archive and listen to various speakers who are brought in by the archives. The religious will go to an archivist and ask for the rite of confession. Upon being granted it, they will go somewhere where none save for the archivist can listen and pour out their spark, revealing whatever has been weighing them down and asking for guidance should they be lacking in information. This rite was hardly ever enacted prior to the war simply because many archivists were paid to sell whatever information they gleaned to the Council. Too many vanished after confessing, and so the rite died for all but the most unassuming individuals.

The Rite of Symbiosis

Developed as a way to honor Micronus Prime, the Rite of Symbiosis is a holiday that is actually banned in several city states with far more restrictive legislations when it comes to who counts as a citizen or not. The whole point of the rite is to celebrate the symbiotic relationships between minibots, intelligent mechanimals, symbiotes, and their carrier units. It is a time to remember how special such things are and how much stronger Cybertronians can be as a whole when they rely on one another, regardless of size or structure.

The rite begins for already bonded companions a few cycles before the actual holiday. It is customary for both parties involved in a companionship to go on some sort of trip or test their bond with trial. It doesn't need to be extreme, just something to reaffirm their reliance on one another. That is the only true holy aspect of the rite as the rest is largely commercial thanks to the Council. On the actual cycle of the rite, minibots without a companion who are looking for one will use their opportunity to show off their skill. The entire cycle is filled with performances from those looking for carrier units and carrier units attempting to show off their services to those looking for a team to hire. While technically one huge advertisement, there is actual joy to be found.

Circus teams have been known to be very prevalent and it is by far the best time to part ways and find new companions for carrier units who are unhappy with their situation. During the holiday minibots can also group together and legally register under one name if they fail to bond to anyone, therefore ensuring they are viewed as citizens sharing the same name instead of property to be owned. The rite is also the only time minibots and symbiotes who are unhappy can earn their freedom through contests. If an contest is issued, those watching much uphold it. The Primacy ensures this rite is honored.

Of course its not all hidden drama covered by a loose celebration. There are treats and dances. But the bit event revolves around the displays carrier units, minibots, symbiotes, and various teams put on to showcase their abilities. There is also a feast at the end of the whole event, but that is to be expected. Any holy aspect was long lost to ancient documents in the archives.

The Rite of Bounty

Created vorns before the Council was even formed, the Rite of Bounty is exactly what it sounds like. Made to honor Alchemist Prime, the only holy aspect about the whole thing is the fact that every bot will pray over their fuel before mixing and consuming. There entire cycle is one giant potluck and food fest. Mecha prepare stellar cycles in advance, collecting wild energon and additives to add to their creations. Then when the cycle arrives, brewers, mixers, purifiers, bartenders, and other fuel concoctors will emerge as one with their creations.

Every city is filled with vendors and stalls. Fuel is absolutely everywhere, often being given out for free as a way of sharing the joy. High-grade and energex flow like a river and drunk mecha are absolutely everywhere. The young are given treats and taught to purify energon safely. The old will bicker over who's energon is better and which high-grade is superior. The higher castes can't even get involved because it is simply too wild of an event. Not even the police are willing to try and stop whatever goes down for that whole cycle.

The people are happy, fueled, and more often than not, drunk off their afts. Not even the Primacy gets around it. They purposefully push their priests to go learn to mix up high grade to honor Alchemist. Many young brewers and fuel mixers have found their spotlight in winning one of the many many competitions across Cybertron during the course of the rite.

Those who still abide by the old faith tend to be a little quieter in their celebration and spend the cycle carefully creating a fancy meal for their loved ones with purely foraged supplies. But those mecha are few and far between. Most are more than happy to go get drunk with the rest.

The Rite of Convergence

Made to honor Nexus Prime, this holiday is still heavily commercialized, but it has managed to maintain some of its holy origins. During the rite, combiners, split sparks, and those who holds close bonds are given their chance to shine. The cycle begins with song where those who are bound to another will come together and sing a blessing of their own creation or choice. This lasts until halfway through the cycle when the solemn atmosphere will lift and festivities will slowly begin.

First, combiner teams will parade through the streets, showcasing their unity in their combined form. It is the only cycle they are allowed to wander fully combined without mission orders, so most relish in it. Combiner teams will often engage in games to showcase their unity in mind and frame after their various parades, all of which are observed keenly by the public. Most of the time, combiner teams, being so rare, will represent their entire city. They will go up against other teams in activities which the public vote on and the winners of said activities are allowed to select their next assignment and even change their city allegiance if they so desire.

Most regular mecha will engage in smaller versions of the combiner games. It is akin to the rite of symbiosis, but mean to include everyone. Mecha who may not know each other will group up and play to win. Teams of veterans will gather to prove their worth. It doesn't matter where one comes from. If you have a team or a partner, you can join the games. The most popular game amongst non-combiner teams is what they call the stilt wars. Mecha will group up and try to turn themselves into a makeshift combiner by standing on shoulders and swinging smaller companions around like arms. It's an absolute mess, but its the most fun many have all vorn long.

The religious will gather in quiet places to pray as one, usually holding servos and chanting in sync to try and feel Cybertron. Those who adhere to the old faith will enjoy the festivities for a time, but they will spent at least half the cycle communing with Cybertron itself through whatever means they deem appropriate.

The Rite of the Wilds

Developed in honor of Onyx Prime, the rite of the wilds is largely an excuse for those who have embraced Onyx's teachings to show their worth. Beastformers from around the entirety of the empire come together to perform feats and legally preach regarding the benefits of taking on an animalistic alternate mode. But that is not all, not in the slightest. The average Cybertronian will spent the cycle wandering.

Previously forbidden wilderness reserves are opened to those who feel inclined to explore. Guides are given and the cycle is dedicated to learning. Young Cyber-felines and Cyber-hounds are given or sold to those who want one. Various other mechanimals are put on display for those in need of a pet to take a look at. And surprisingly, seekers use the Rite of the Wilds as an excuse to show off their skills. They have their own holidays to celebrate the gift of flight, but since Onyx had wings, they take every excuse to show off.

The skies are filled with seekers and other flight frames showing their skills. The ground is covered in various dealers and animal sellers. The wilds are busy with guides taking eager mid-caste mecha around to see the natural wonders of Cybertron. Stations are set up to educate the young and give them the chance to interact with wild creatures under the watch of a a handler. It is a simple celebration and not nearly as beloved as many others, but enjoyed all the same.

Those who adhere to the old faith are known to up and vanish for the entire cycle before turning up like nothing happened a few deca-cycles later. No one is entirely sure why they do this, but they always head into the wilds, so most assume its a communion thing much like the Rite of Convergence.

The Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry

Created to honor Amalgamous Prime, the Rite of the Shapeshifter's Revelry is fully intended for stress relief. Those who participate will select a new identity and become the person they are imitating for the entire cycle. Mecha will go to increadible lengths to match their target, even prepping stellar cycles in advance. It is a test of skill, and it is during this time that many an actor makes their debut. There have even been actors so good at their jobs that they have been outright mistaken for their identity. Comedic relief regularly comes from those with the same faked identity participating in a battle of wits regarding who knows their target best.

It is a time of fun and mischief. Harmless pranks will be played on the unsuspecting and masked parades are all but mandatory. The young will try their hardest to emulate their mentors and the older amongst society will aim for greater challenges. Not even the Council and higher castes are exempt. Everyone tries to imitate someone. Although emulating a deceased Prime was outlawed after one particular incident where the population were convinced Onyx Prime returned from the dead when a shapeshifter got too excited. Even still, it is considered an increadible honor to have someone mimic you during the rite. As such, there is incentive amongst the population to be memorable if not loved.

Those who adhere to the old faith do not emulate. Instead they will wear masks based off horrific creatures from folklore. Their reasoning is quite simple. They are attempting to ward off the evil that lurks. Not even they know what it is, but it is tradition and they adhere to it.

The Rite of Discovery

Modeled in honor of Quintus Prime, the Rite of Discovery is about what it presents itself as. Most average civilians cannot actively participate, but they are all encouraged to watch as Cybertron's brightest minds gather together for debates, exhibitions, and scholarly discussion. Geniuses from every plausable field will gather in the center of whatever city state they live in and will group together to show off the fruits of their labor. It is not merely for pride's sake either. By showing off their work, they can gain additional funding, support, and assistance from potential investors.

Philosophers will all debate over heated questions (a fact that the council has abused to remove dissenters quietly). Physicists will work on group projects and try to one each other up in space bridge design. Researchers will present their findings on foreign worlds and get into bawls over who found what first. Astronomers will attempt to murder one another with their optics as they argue over star distances. Linguists will screech at anyone and everyone who disrespects their dialect in strange shifting tongues. Archivists with their digits too far deep into certain files will actively try and assault one another over translation issues. Not even medics are exempt. Doctors from around the world can and will create line long grudges over potential medical malpractice.

It is some of the most amazing argumentation of all time, and civilians love to watch. Not just because of the arguments of course. Civilians are able to watch the pinnacle of the Cybertronian race at work and are even able to watch many young upstarts cement themselves amongst the greatest of the great. Anyone who cares for drama knows to keep their optics and audials on the rite while it progresses. Most who engage in the rite get into controversy at some point.

Those who lived through the reign of the Quintessons devote their entire sparks to throwing effective middle fingers at their former overlords with their accomplishments. Many a scientist has laughed maniacally after presenting something the Quints would have never allowed.

The Rite of Truth

The Rite of Truth is not one that anyone loves a great deal. It is one of the few holidays that the Primacy fully owns, and the entire purpose of it is to get everyone to confess their sins. The story of Liege Maximo is told all throughout the rite and not a spark can go anywhere without getting it preached to them by a priest. Civilians are required to be silent unless they are going to be confessing something. Most opt to speak over private comms to avoid a priest or religious fanatic trying to get them to speak their truth. Those who are caught speaking without confessing something or other can be fined by the Primacy. It is by far one of the least liked holidays ever, even if it does get everyone a cycle off work.

Most are encouraged to actively rat on one another and become a whistleblower if they don't want to confess anything personal. This has led to the rise and fall of many an organization since the Primacy will take all big confessions seriously. The Council has used this to their advantage many many times. The average mech will usually take the change to drag skeletons out of the closet regarding those they dislike (at least if they are particularly spiteful). The best of the tea will make it into the media in no time.

Of course that is not all of it. Since most mecha decide to remain at home to escape the Primacy, small traditions have taken root. Most often, families and close comrades will gather to share a meal together and sort old scores and bitter grudges in a polite private manner. Secrets are shared and revealed. Drama is dealt with. It is a quiet affair for those who decide to be decent and not throw shade at everyone and everything that has ever wronged them.

The Rite of the Fallen

Created as both a warning and another way to help citizens deal with their issues, the Rite of the Fallen is complex. The Rite of the Fallen differs for absolutely everyone. Those who have issues and things they wish to repent for will have the one they wronged decide what they are to do (those whose victims are no longer living will go to a sanctioned friend or priest). These remorseful sparks will then spend the entirety of the rite fulfilling whatever they were ordered to do. Other mecha without anything they wish to outwardly deal with will spend the cycle mourning the dead or something they lost. Almost all of Cybertron will scrub off their colors to lament.

The story of the Fallen is retold to the young through quiet retellings. The old will gather and quietly grieve whatever they have lost. Often, those who grieve are not even grieving for themselves. If one has nothing to lament, then it is polite to lament alongside one who is suffering. Every mech is obliged to mourn alongside those who are already doing so. The religious aspect of the whole affair is found with the common prayer uttered by even the unfaithful in order to bring a cold comfort to they who suffer.

Those who follow the old faith know more of the Fallen, and instead of lamenting, they curse. They utter curses to keep the Unmaker away. They prepare elaborate strings of prayers to ensure that the evil cast away once never returns. They remember what was, and they fear its reawakening more than anything.

The Rite of the Arisen

There were genuine attempts made to turn the Rite of the Arisen into a holiday celebrating the reigning Prime, but that was shelved after a while. A separate holiday was made for that affair, leaving the Rite of the Arisen to fulfill its purpose.

The population are largely dubious about the mythical Thirteenth Prime, and often they can mix him and Primus together to create one legendary entity. This has resulted in the Rite of the Arisen turning into a celebration of the largest wave of newsparks to emerge from the Well each vorn. The cycle is never the same every vorn, so when it does come and the newsparks emerge, the rite is enacted in full. Every mech wanting to mentor a fresh mind will present themselves and go through a series of religious rites if they are faithful.

The Thirteenth represents rebirth, so often, those who recently passed away will have their designation given to one who emerges from the Well. A name can be left as an inheritance, and those who were given it can offer it to a newspark freely. It is a special event, a bond between the young and the old. There is no specific procedure, it simply it. The magical experience of watching new life emerge from Cybertron's core is special enough.

Those who adhere to the old faith will watch every time the rite begins. They wait, they observe, and they eagerly hope for the cycle when the lost Thirteenth Prime will return to the living realm. Many a priest is there to watch and warily write down designations of those they may find of interest.

Life is a gift, and all of Cybertron knows that when the rite begins.

[hachyxd-blog]

Ray´s B-day fanfic <3

"Today, years ago, my favorite yandere was born from all the visual novels I've had the fortune to see or play. I can separate fiction from reality, but I don't think I'm the only one who would like to be there to hug Ray and give him a little peace. As a small gift, I wanted to make a short fanfic of my coffee addict alongside a little drawing to complement it. I apologize in advance if it's not understood well, English is not my language and I'm using a translator."

@concreteparasite Gracias por crear tal maravilla.

Happy birthday.

Who would have thought it would be possible to keep a secret from the great Binary star. Mc laughed happily in the kitchen as she finished washing the dishes. It had been just over a year since she moved into Ray's home. At first, it wasn't easy; it seemed like the option to leave was given, or rather, it was never up for discussion. After much talking, they managed to make it work together: Mc wouldn't be confined to her new home, but she would always stay in touch with Ray when she went out.

Truth be told, it's not like she could keep a secret from him; after all, he possessed the incredible ability to read minds, but she trusted him not to read hers all the time. Mc really believed it was impossible to turn on her mind... until she discovered it. On her maternal side, she spoke Spanish, and unconsciously she had been thinking in that language, discovering a weakness to Ray's ability. He seemed annoyed that he couldn't fully understand, but there was nothing he could do.

Today, in particular, he seemed very upset. I concentrated as best I could so that the only language I thought in was Spanish and not to ruin the surprise.

"Tell me what you're thinking..." Ray's voice appeared behind me, his hands wrapped around my hips as he rested his chin on my shoulder. The height difference between us was cute.

"I'm not thinking anything important," I said playfully.

"Stop," he said seriously.

"What?"

"You've been thinking in Spanish all day," His voice sounded annoyed, while I tried to contain my laughter.

"Really? I didn't realize."

"It's annoying."

"Well, darling. It's not the end of the world if you don't know everything that's going on in my mind."

Without responding, Ray left me alone in the kitchen and headed to our room, then came out in his superhero suit. Before me was Binary Star in all his glory, the only difference being that he didn't show that fake smile but still looked upset.

Unknowingly, due to my practice, I had been thinking in Spanish again.

Normally, he would give me a kiss goodbye and go to his vigil shift. But today, he flew off the balcony without looking at me. I won't deny that it hurt me. But it meant I was on the right track to keep the surprise.

Ray came back around 5 in the morning. Half-asleep, I felt him walking around the room before lying down on the other side of our bed. It seems he's still upset because he didn't hug me as he always does.

The next morning, I let him sleep, it helped that we slept separately, so I got out of bed easily. After putting on my robe, I went downstairs and asked the neighbor for my package. I had gotten a chocolate cake with coffee to celebrate Ray's birthday. But if I kept it in our house, he would realize I was planning in Spanish. The neighbor agreed to keep the cake at his house along with my gift.

I went back home, made coffee, and took the cake out of its box, and my gift was already on the tray.

In our room, Ray was still asleep. I cleared my throat and started singing "Happy Birthday."

Ray looked for a moment and then covered his face with his pillow. I could see that lovely smile; he was embarrassed.

I left things on the bedside table and threw myself to hug and kiss Ray; I knew I should have let him sleep more, but I couldn't contain myself after all these days preparing the surprise.

In no time, I was caught in his arms.

"Everything... was for this," His voice sounded deeper from just waking up, but he seemed happy.

"Yes, did you forget your own birthday?" I joked, stroking his soft hair, and running my hand over his cheek. "Ignoring them doesn't mean you stop aging, old man."

"No, I just don't usually celebrate it." He ignored my joke and just passed his hand over his face, somewhat frustrated.

"Well, get used to it. This might be the only birthday I manage to keep a surprise. Next year, you'll know what to expect." I exclaimed proudly.

Ray smiled, keeping his eyes closed; maybe it was the fact that he now had someone to be with him for the following birthdays that made him take this even more joyfully.

"If you don't want cake now, we can save it for later." I gave a glance to the table with his cake and gift, along with his essential morning coffee.

"How about the gift?" He pointed to the purple box. "Can I have it now?"

It was at this moment that nerves increased from zero to a hundred. Everything would be decided at this moment.

"Of course," I handed over the gift, watching as he slowly unwrapped it.

Ray's eyes widened as he looked at the contents of the box and then at me, pulling out two handmade dolls of them and a pregnancy test. After a moment of silence, Mc cleared her throat.

"D-don't think I'll give you a gift like this every year." I laughed nervously.

"Since when—" maybe it was shock, but his voice sounded distant, as if he didn't completely believe what was happening.

"I-it's still early, I haven't been to the doctor yet." Ray looked at me as if I had committed a crime. "I-it would have ruined the surprise."

Ray went from surprise to anger to simply accepting the inevitable: the love of his life was forgetful.

"I swear I feel fine. But you're happy, I mean, we talked about this in the past, but maybe you were thinking of another time in the future... I..."

Ray's hands took me by my cheeks, cradling my face, to give me a tender kiss.

"I am, I mean, I'm so happy that I'd like to hold you so tight in my arms and show you how excited I am about this." He gave me a subdued smile.

"Ray, what's wrong?"

"What if I don't do it right, being a good father?"

"Well, no father is prepared for this. We'll learn together..."

I could see Ray's face relax at my touch and my words. His hands surrounded my back, pulling me into a tight hug.

"Happy birthday..."

"Thank you..." His whisper was weak, but I felt genuine gratitude.

"Next year, we won't be alone on your next birthday, Mr. Dad."

We stayed hugged for a while. I didn't know what was going through Ray's mind, but whatever it was, I would be with him.

When I set out to eat the cake, I was interrupted by Ray, who carried me to the shower to get ready to go to the hospital. It was funny how from one moment to the next, our small bathroom became a dangerous area in Ray's eyes: slippery floor, sharp-cornered furniture, and a bathtub where I could drown, among many other dangerous things. He took out his phone and started calling to have our entire home redesigned to make it safe for me and our upcoming baby. And may God have mercy on the people in charge if I ever got hurt, no matter how insignificant it was.

If this was going to be my life from now on, it would be a long nine months.

"Your father has gone crazy," I said as I stroked my still flat belly. "But that's how I love him."

[thrashkink-coven]

One of the most valuable things that Lucifer has taught me is that being passionate is a virtue.

Lots of folks think that having bad bitch boss energy means being apathetic and stoic, or being unbothered by things and striking down all your enemies with an ice cold glare. Being unreadable and mysterious and unpredictable in a sexy way. I though that when I started working with Lucifer he would teach me how to be cold and distant so that I could ascend beyond any problem because I’m soooo enlightened.

But he taught me the exact opposite. He taught me not to glare coldly at my enemies, but to look them right in the eyes with sincerity and empathy to understand why they are the way that they are, and how to navigate the situation appropriately. I don’t have to destroy my enemies and conquer all, I must know when someone is toxic to me and be prepared to remove myself from those situations or find ways to navigate them in healthy ways. He taught me that I’m allowed to be mad when people mistreat me, I’m allowed to cry and get frustrated. I won’t yell or hurl insults, I’ll communicate how I feel and ensure that my feelings are heard even if not respected. My emotions and intentions do not have to be a puzzle to those who surround me, I have the power to put the pieces together with my words and actions.

And I will loudly and proudly love the things I love, ramble on and on about my favourite books and shows because he’ll always listen. And smile widely when I see my friends. Be cartoonishly and desperately in love with my partner and cherish him like every day was our last.

I’m allowed to be emotional about things that don’t matter, like a character death in a show I like or dropping my last gummy worm on the carpet. I’m allowed to get excited to see the moon or the sun or my cat. I’m supposed to be.

I don’t have to become a master manipulator who hacks into people’s minds to make them secretly obey me like I’m playing chess. I can become vigilant and detail oriented so I can discern peoples emotions and intentions to better connect with them as people and to offer them support wherever I can. I hope the people around me enjoy my company as a real person, not because they secretly admire and envy me.

I don’t need to be cool and calm and in control of everything just so other people can tell me what a boss bitch I am. I’m allowed to need breaks and ask questions when I’m confused. My dedication to my work and art will speak for itself.

Lucifer, the king, the emperor, the morning star, has always been admired for his incredible beauty and inspiration, but never once did he claim to be perfect. Most beautiful, most prideful, perhaps, but always so with all of his quirks and flaws. Even when he falls, he rises again. His intense loyalty and passion for knowledge is what makes him the light bringer. It never had anything to do with a cold glare or strict attitude, it was always an admiration of his love for his purpose. When the angels of the rebellion followed him it was not because he was cold and cunning, it was because he was an inspiration set ablaze in glory. He was warm and light and passionate.

[dittanyinbloom]

Hand Written

The final part to Note Taking and Study Habits

Ominis x fem!MC, fluff, kissing, it is just kissing but I wouldn’t say it’s safe to read at work

This is all so self indulgent but idc I write for my own entertainment first and foremost

.✉️🦉❄️

Over the weekend, you ran into a bit of trouble. Your first trip to Hogsmeade with Natty had famously resulted in a troll battle, but most people didn’t know that the journey hadn’t ended there. During a well-deserved butterbeer at the Three Broomsticks, you were confronted by Victor Rookwood and Theophilus Harlow. One thing led to another, and now as of late, you and Natty found yourself acting as protectors of the Highlands. Whenever one of you heard of Ashwinders causing mayhem, the two of you would team up and hunt them down. This time, you may have bit off more than you could chew.

The wizards you fought against that weekend had been poachers. Not only that, but Theophilus Harlow himself had shown to the battle. By then, you had already taken a few curses and had long since exhausted your supply of Wiggenweld potion. Lucky for you, they had captured two hippogriffs, one of them being Poppy Sweeting’s friend Highwing. The killing curse was thrown, but thanks to the hippogriffs, you and Natty had made it out, narrowly.

The next morning, the two of you had joined Poppy for breakfast to ask what should be done about the two fully grown hippogriffs in your nab-sack.

“Well, I would say to release them back to their home, but with all the poachers still running about. . .” Poppy sighed heavily. Scotland wasn’t safe for any beast at the moment.

“There is somewhere I could take them,” you offered hesitantly, “I didn’t want to take Highwing there without your approval since the two of you are so close. But I can show you, both of you.” You smiled at Natty. “It’s quite extraordinary, actually. I’ve been waiting for the right time to share it with people.”

Natty returned your smile. “You have me intrigued.”

Poppy’s eyes lit up. “Is it close enough for us to go after classes today?”

“Why wait until after classes?” Then you were standing from your seat in the Great Hall to lead the girls out. Overhead, the owls had arrived to deliver the morning mail. A letter was dropped on the table for you, and you placed it directly in your robes for later. Most of the mail you received was from people asking for favors or updating you on ongoing quests they’d assigned you. Whatever it was could wait for now.

The girls followed you out of the Great Hall, giggling and unable to contain their excitement for whatever Hogwarts mystery you were about to show them.

Sharing the Room of Requirement with others re-sparked your excitement for the space. The three of you rushed in nearly late to Charms. You snatched food from the Great Hall during lunch just to run back to the Astronomy tower. Poppy took to the skies of the vivarium. Natty had fallen asleep on your couch cuddling a puffskin. You debated dozing off as well, exhausted from the weekend, but you stayed vigilant and watched over the time to know when you would have to drag the other girls to DADA.

“That. . was. . brilliant!” Poppy had an arm hooked around one of both yours and Natty’s elbows. Her balance was still off from the flight.

“Now that the two of you know it’s there, I think you should be able to find it yourselves. I’m not in the castle much these days, so the beasts would love your company.”

Natty brightened at the invitation. “I’m looking forward to exploring as my animagus form when I am better rested. Galloping around was not in the stars for today.”

“That puffskin took quite the liking to you,” you teased.

“I had an inkling you would be good with beasts, Natty,” Poppy commented, “You have a warm soul. The creatures see that.”

After classes, the three of you were yet again exploring the room. Free from needing to keep track of time, you planted yourself on the couch for a well-deserved rest. As you turned on your side, a curious crunching sounded from under you. You frowned as you sat up, digging through your robes for the parchment preventing you from sleep.

The letter from that morning! Might as well open it now and find out what sort of predicament you would be spending the rest of your weeknights solving.

What caught your eye first was how meticulously the words were placed. There were perfectly even indentations on both sides. The spacing was exact, and the lines, while ever so slightly up and to the left, were even in height. Someone had planned out what they were going to say to you. This was rare among the desperate scribbles of your usual quests. Even professors who wrote to you about assignments were flippant with their quill strokes, far too busy to even attempt legibility for a mere student.

Y/N

I fear apologies are in order. Sebastian insists you’ve been distant this weekend because of my actions. Offending you was not my intentions. The touches were merely a way to express that I share the same sentiment. I think of you often. In fact, I have not been able to think of much else since you started taking my name. If I’ve misinterpreted your feelings, please meet me today after classes in the Undercroft. You are owed a proper apology face to face.

If you happen to feel the same, you know where I’ll be.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

You stood from the couch so fast the room was spinning. By now, he must have assumed you weren’t going to show. How awful he must feel to think you didn’t care enough about his letter to even address it.

“Deek!” You called out, wildly looking around the room for him.

He had popped up out of nowhere, startling you. “Yes, Miss?”

Pressing the letter against your chest in shock while trying to collect yourself, you uttered, “Would you be so kind as to let the girls know I had to leave, but they are welcome to stay for as long as they’d like?”

“Of course, Miss. is everything all right?”

“Yes, for once, I’ve received a letter with good news, but I must meet with the sender right away.”

“Deek will make sure your friends are well taken care of in your absence.”

“Thank you!”

By the time you arrived at the entrance of the Undercroft, you were out of breath and only panicking worse. What if he had already given up? What if he was angry? What if your late arrival changed how he felt? You stomped down the stairs as quick as your thick boots would allow and ducked under the metal grate since it wasn’t rising fast enough.

Finding yourself inside the echoey room was like being doused in the icy waters of the sea. All the adrenaline that had been fueling your sprint over had dwindled, leaving only trepidation in its wake.

“Ominis?” You called out, hating how loud your voice seemed against the dead silence of the room. Nothing stirred. Nothing moved. You couldn’t even hear the faint sound of his breathing. You were alone.

“Ergh!” You let out through your teeth. How could you be so careless? Why couldn’t you have read the letter at any other point in the day? “Confringo!” You cast at a hanging candelabra. It swung violently from the momentum of your spell. The next victim was a tower of boxes. One by one exploding into bits, “Bombarda! Diffindo! Depulso!”

You turned on your heel, aiming at the desk in the corner that was rarely ever used for school-related revision. “Flipendo!” The contents crashed to the floor: a vase shattering, candles snapping in half, tomes scattering about. Still, the chaos didn’t feel like enough. You stormed over to the wreckage and kicked the now very sideways desk for good measure. Apparently, your steel-toe boots were a little worn down from all your adventures because you felt the impact jolt up even past your shin.

With absolutely no balance, you plummeted to the floor with a wince, grabbing at your foot in agony. “Mother of Merlin! So stupid!” You had fallen into the debris. Now that you were coming down from the rage, you frowned at the mess around you. Meekly, you uttered, “Reparo,” at the stack of boxes you’d destroyed.

Pushing yourself off the ground, you aimed at the desk next. In the blink of an eye, everything was in it’s rightful place. Even the tiny shard of glass in your palm had rejoined the vase.

You sat at the desk, exhausted from your meltdown. Your left hand landed on a folded piece of parchment. The only person who ever worked at this desk was Sebastian when he was reading something he wasn’t supposed to. Curious as to what kind of notes he was taking, you unfolded the paper to find the diligent penmanship from Ominis’s letter.

Y/N

We have to leave in a hurry. Anne is feeling too ill to walk, but Solomon is traveling in Egypt. He is meeting with old friends from the Ministry, Curse Breakers. Anne needs someone to look after her for a few days, and Sebastian didn’t want to go alone. He shouldn’t have to be alone, not at a time like this.

I hope this message finds you well.

Yours Truly,

Ominis

Oh, what a fool you had been. You looked up at the arching ceiling and let out a laugh of disbelief. While you were having a tissy fit about being late, Anne was suffering. Merlin, how idiotic you felt.

Ignorant, as Sebastian would so kindly say. And this time, he’d have been right.

If Solomon was away, you might have just the thing to lift the spirits in Feldcroft. All you needed was a quick trip to the Room of Requirement, and you could be on your way by curfew.

It was far too late to be knocking on someone’s door, but there you stood in the entryway in the dead of night. The air was bitter and unforgiving. The nights were always chilly this close to the sea, but this year's winter seemed to be never-ending. The moment you appeared at the floo station in the middle of town, you debated sending yourself right back to the warmth of your common room.

The front door swung open to reveal a familiar wand pointed at your face. Sebastian, looking rough from sleep, mustered up the deadliest glare he could and opened his mouth to spew out a threat. His scowl brightened to a brilliant smile, recognizing you were no foe.

“Well if it isn’t the subject of the hour herself!” He stepped aside, ushering you into the small home so he could shut out the harsh weather. “You had us thinking Ashwinders were looking for a fight.”

“Assuming they would knock,” Anne added as she sat up in her bed.

“Sorry to frighten you, and wake you. ., but with Solomon gone I thought these might be of use.” You pulled a bag of freshly picked shrivelfigs from your enchanted satchel. Ever since your first trip to Feldcroft, you had been growing them. The broken look on Sebastian’s face, when his uncle had ruined the one he had bought for Anne, was etched in your soul.

“Have I told you lately that I love you?” Sebastian mused as you handed him the fruit.

“I don’t think you’ve ever admitted you love me.”

“Hmm, very well. I’ll add it to my to-do list.”

“I look forward to it, Sallow.”

“Don’t hold your breath, Gaunt.”

“Hey now,” Anne chastised, “Did we not just discuss that at great length?

Sebastian rolled his eyes then turned to you, “I’m very sorry. Does the name make you uncomfortable?”

“No,” you admitted, braving a glance at Ominis who was sitting at the head of Sebastian’s bed. You nearly gasped at his appearance.

When Sebastian had answered the door, you didn’t take a second glance at his apparel. But seeing Ominis out of school robes was always a treat. Even those few times you had, he would still be sporting his uniform vest and button-down. Now he was wearing a long sleeve thermal that seemed too loose in every area it was meant to be tight for warmth. It was likely one of Solomon’s since the boys had to leave on the spot without having time to pack.

Ominis looked terribly endearing swimming in the giant shirt with blankets looking at his hips. His hair was still somehow in place despite the fact that they had clearly already been lying down before you came in. The space in the bed next to him was disheveled from Sebastian jumping out of bed to answer the door.

“Told you she likes him!” Anne proclaimed, talking with Sebastian as if you and Ominis weren’t in the room. Though, in her defense, with the way you were looking Ominis up and down, it may as well have been Anne and Sebastian that weren’t in the room.

“Then explain the cold shoulder!”

“She was probably busy being her usual self. You do remember her having ancient magic abilities to discover, don’t you?”

“That doesn’t explain not showing up to the Undercroft.” Sebastian refused to back down from the argument.

“But she’s here now, isn’t she?” Anne reached a hand out to you. “Come, Y/N. You can sleep with me. It’s late, and we should all be resting.”

Sebastian put his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think the married couple should-“

“Sebastian!” Ominis chastised. “Enough before I hex you. Get back to bed.”

You were timid to join Anne in the tiny bed. The old wood creaked in protest from your weight. She was quick to cover you in her warm blankets. Only then did you realize how badly you had been shivering from the cold. Anne’s head unabashedly laid on your shoulder as she hummed.

“This is lovely. Sebastian has refused to sleep in the same bed as me since we started school. We used to cuddle every night.”

Across the room, Sebastian seemed to groan in agony, “Anne, quit telling people that.”

Anne went on defiantly, “He used to be so sweet to me, but he drools in his sleep.”

You giggled. “Why am I not surprised? He drools a bit in his waking hours as well. Especially in Miss Garlick’s class.”

“Hmm, wonder why that is?”

From the boys’ side, a light slap rang out, followed by the sound of a wand clattering to the floor.

“Don’t hex them!” Ominis whispered.

“Just a silencing charm!” Sebastian said defensively.

The bed was empty when you woke up. Anne had not traveled far in their tiny abode. She was relaxing with tea at the dining table. Her plush armchair stood out between the other bare, wooden dining chairs. Ominis was awake and tending to the kettle. Sebastian was snoring. A dark spot had formed by his mouth on the pillow. You bit your cheek to prevent yourself from laughing.

Lovely blackmail material for later.

“Good morning,” Ominis said, holding out a steaming mug to you. His voice startled Anne who hadn’t even noticed you had woken up.

“Thank you.” From the smell alone, you could tell he put the perfect amount of sugar. You nearly melted into the cup yourself. What you would give to wake up every morning to Ominis. . . His hair had finally given in and fallen ever so slightly out of place due to not having its usual routine. He felt the wisps on his forehead and frowned, raising his hand to move them. You reached out, grabbing his wrist. “Leave it.”

He went from pink to red alarmingly fast. You sipped your tea and caught Anne’s watchful eye. She was smiling, despite her words, “I’m starting to pity Sebastian. He was right. This is disgusting to witness.”

Deciding it was your turn for a bit of fun, you teased, “Yes well, you and Sebastian might as well get used to it. Marriages do tend to last a while, the good ones, anyway.”

Adoring the opportunity to join in on the mischief, Anne added, “I guess so. Ominis is one of the good ones.”

“Precisely.”

Ominis had his own notes to go over on that very topic. He grabbed his coat from the hanger, shrugging it on as he asked, “Y/N, would you care to join me for a morning stroll? I thought we could pick something up from the vendor. He usually has bread ready by now, and this place is due for some more fresh food to go with those shrivelfigs. Maybe a few eggs for breakfast as well. .”

“I would love to.” You mimicked his movements to grab your coat, but he had picked it up first to hold it up for you. You couldn’t help but nervously glance at Anne who seemed very amused at the whole show behind her cup of tea.

Just one arm and then the other. It wasn’t so bad, that is, until after when he put his hands on both your shoulders and smoothed out the fabric. When you turned to face him, he held out an elbow for you to hold.

“Oh,” you murmured under your breath.

Timidly, you accepted his guide, but Ominis stayed frozen in the foyer for a second longer to ask, “I’m sorry, I’ve done it again, haven’t I? Is this arrangement all right with you?” He nodded toward where your hand was shamelessly finding its place on his arm.

“Yes, of course. You lead. I have no idea where we are going,” you assured him.

“It’s rare people ask me to lead them places,” Ominis was attempting a jovial tone, perhaps to put your budding nerves at ease.

It didn’t help much due to your mouth spewing words without a thought, “I’d follow you anywhere.”

Now it was Ominis muttering a soft, “Oh,” while mulling over the depth of your words.

Anne slurped her tea inappropriately loud, causing the two of you to jump. You offered her a sheepish smile, a silent apology for forgetting that you and Ominis were not alone.

“I want a niece or nephew named after me,” Anne proclaimed. “It’s the least you could do to make up for this.”

Throwing a look of annoyance Anne’s way, Ominis was quick to fire back, “I think Sebastian has that cover-“

“Consider it done!” You promised the girl.

Ominis quickly recovered from his shocked appearance to ask, “Do I not have a say in the naming of our child?”

“Take a moment to consider the benefits. If it’s named after her, she’ll be guilted into babysitting. Would you rather have Sebastian looking after our child while we’re away? We’d come back to a demon baby.“

“Bold of you to assume Anne is any more responsible than Sebastian. She caused quite a myriad of trouble in our early years, more so than Sebastian. Do not let her fool you. Sebastian has yet to beat her detention record. Try as he might.”

Then you were whisked away on a proper tour of Feldcroft. Sebastian had previously shown you around, but those landmarks were more about the places they had fought Goblins or where Anne had been cursed. Ominis was naming off what houses belonged to which neighbors and listing who grew what each season. He spoke as if this hamlet were his home, but you were well aware the Gaunts resided in Northern England.

Perhaps Feldcroft was more of a home to him than that place ever would be. That would make sense. Sebastian and Anne seemed more like family to him than the true family he spoke ill of. It was a fine place to call home. Quaint and quiet. There was more variety in the cities or even villages like Hogsmeade, but the hustle and bustle of those places got old. Visiting Feldcroft with Sebastian had always been a guilty pleasure. Pleasure because you craved simplicity after all your adventures, but guilty for feeling so at peace while Sebastian and Anne were struggling.

With the sun breaking through some of the clouds, today would be warmer than yesterday. By the afternoon, most of the snow would likely melt away. Days like that were usually colder than the weeks of snow that preceded them. The wetness seeped into clothes and chilled to the bone. With all the fields surrounding the hamlet, you hoped the ground would soak up the moisture quick. Either that or the four of you would be inside for the entire duration of your stay.

A while into the walk, Ominis finally took out his wand to lead the both of you toward a hay bale big enough to sit. A cart of chomping cabbages rolled by. You tried not to shiver, knowing very well how deadly those things could be. Assuming you were cold, Ominis trailed a hand down your arm to find your own placed in your lap. He encapsulated your hands in his and brought them to his lips, blowing hot air to heat them deliciously.

You had to mentally remind yourself to breathe, not wanting to get called out as you were in the library. His actions heated you up in more way than one. Your face felt overwhelmingly warm, as well as other regions of your body you weren’t quite ready to acknowledge just yet. But in truth, you greatly appreciated the notion to warm you. You hadn’t been able to find a scarf before running off to Feldcroft, probably due to your supply being mostly piled in Ominis’ dorm room.

“We should actually buy the bread and eggs for breakfast, but I must admit the point of this walk was to get you alone.” He still had your hands hostage, holding them near his chest. They stayed there a beat longer before he finally let you have your freedom, which used to be a sensation you craved before you grew used to Ominis’ affections.

“I’m sorry if coming here was not appropriate,” you spewed out. “I hadn’t read the letter in time, or else I would have met with you before.”

“After how foolishly I acted, I would have understood if you didn’t show at all. If my second letter made you worry about Anne, I’m terribly sorry. I did not mean for you to follow us here, but I am glad you did. Is that selfish of me?”

“If wanting me around is selfish, then I wish you would be selfish more often.”

“I’m selfish all the time.”

You took that as an invitation to move closer on the makeshift bench. Now with your hip and shoulder flush against his own, you were practically forced to entangle your overlapping arms. “Ominis, I should tell you. . This weekend I had not meant to ignore you.”

“It was well deserved and to be expected, only natural after how uneasy I made you feel. Just because you drew hearts around my name doesn’t mean you would want my. . . advances.” Ominis visibly cringed at his own terminology.

“I do,” you blurted. Merlin, with all the marriage references, you may as well get out your wand and make an Unbreakable Vow at this point.

Ominis tilted his head. “What?”

“Sorry, I meant to say that it’s okay. You were right in assuming I wanted. . that.”

The heavy feeling in the boy’s chest seemed to lighten. He sighed in relief. “Oh, I felt horrible thinking I had made you uncomfortable in any sort of way.”

“Nervous, but not uncomfortable.”

He lifted his wand to let the red light take in the quiet hamlet. You stiffened, suddenly becoming hyper-aware of your surroundings. Loyalists and Ashwinders were still a heavy threat, especially in Feldcroft. For a moment you had let your guard down, and now you felt terrible for not keeping watch.

Oddly, not a soul was in sight. Even the livestock that often wandered about was either off in the snowy fields or no doubt huddled up in a barn somewhere. The morning was young, you could tell from how loud the birds were chirping. Most residents were still hunkered down in their homes except for a dedicated merchant setting up their cart near the well in the center of town. They weren’t quite near enough for Ominis to pick up their sound, though, his hearing could be even better than you already assumed.

You tucked yourself close to his side to whisper, “Did you hear something?”

He shook his head no, lowering his wand. “I only wanted to make sure we were alone.” The tip of his nose had gone pink from the cold. His cheeks were rosy, too, from being out in the morning breeze.

“It’s just us,” you reassured softly. “There’s a merchant setting up in the center of town, but they-“ A hand obstructed your view. Ominis was tentatively reaching out. The light brush of his index finger against your jaw is what cut off your train of thought. The others landed on your pulse, his thumb finding your chin. It glided up, moving across your lips that were still slightly parted from the words that got left behind.

“Don’t move,” he didn’t really need to tell you. The shock of it all was enough to turn you into a statue.

Then he was leaning in. His movements were slow but deliberate. His thumb left your lips only to be replaced by his mouth ghosting over yours. That’s where he stopped. You thought he was second-guessing himself, but then you could ever so slightly feel him break into a smile.

“I didn’t mean for you to stop breathing,” he teased. “Take a breath.”

You did, a pathetically weak one that is. But as soon as you took in air, Ominis closed the distance. His lips, though soft and gentle, weren’t hesitant in any way. He still held the side of your face, guiding you to him.

Your eyes had closed on instinct, so you had become lost in the sensation of him against you. His hand was the only thing grounding you until you reached for his jacket and tugged him closer. Only then did he take advantage of your parted lips to deepen the kiss. He let his other hand explore the side of your body, finding your hip and then running up and down the side of your thigh. You couldn’t help but shudder at the sensation.

Then, all too quickly, his lips were pulling away. You followed, chasing his movements, needing more. The hand cradling your jaw held you in place, letting him put his forehead to yours and chuckle.

“You want more, but you stopped moving.”

Had you stopped? You didn’t mean to. “You distracted me.”

He hummed in approval and squeezed your thigh just above your knee. The sound of your breath hitching was all the confirmation he needed. “You really like that, don’t you?”

Your grip on his jacket was se desperate that your hands were starting to ache. “Ominis, please. .”

“Do you even know what you are asking for, my dear? I think I should take you on a proper date before doing any of that. And perhaps, not in the center of town. .”

You immediately tucked your face in the crook of his neck, far too embarrassed to face the world after that. “I’m sorry.” Your breath on his neck made him go stiff. A mischievous thought crossed your mind, and you were acting on it before you could talk yourself out of it. You brought your lips to his neck, just below his jaw. His hand instinctively tightened around your thigh as he let out a gentle gasp.

“Oh,” was all he could say, now deeply understanding the intensity you felt whenever he would touch you. At first, you peppered kisses along his skin, but when you came across his pulse your self-restraint floated away. Feeling how quick it gave you the confidence to open your mouth wider, sucking his pale skin until it went red and warm. Trickles of electricity ran down his spine. He wanted to chastise you for being so lude in public, but he couldn’t form words. His body felt limp, completely compliant to whatever you chose to do. Then his own tongue betrayed him, “Right there.”

Eager to please, you focused all your attention on that spot. Your fingers tangled in the hair at the base of his neck and tugged slightly so that he’d grant you better access. Ominis didn’t give any resistance to your demand.

It was thrilling to know you could make him experience all the things he made you feel. You pushed his limits further by grazing your teeth against him. His hand shot up your thigh to your hip, the other landing on your other side. He pulled on you as if he wanted you closer, but any closer you’d be in his lap. Although that idea was beyond tempting, the sound of someone’s front door creaking open made you pull away from his neck.

The loss of contact made him frown. He quickly cupped your cheeks to pull you in for another kiss, but you put a hand against his chest, holding him at bay with a giggle.

“Later,” you promised, “-when we’re alone again.”

Ominis tilted his head in confusion. His eyes went wide when he heard the soft chatter of a neighboring couple exiting their home behind him. Quickly, he let you go and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I- I didn’t hear them come out.”

You left a brisk kiss on the little cluster of moles decorating his cheekbone before standing and tugging him along. “Come on. We still need to buy breakfast.”

By the time you made it back to the Sallow home, Sebastian was moaning about how starved he was. His eyes lit up when the door opened. Anne had told him the two of you had gone to collect bread and eggs. His excitement morphed into terror at the sight of his best friend in such disarray. In all the years he’s known Ominis, Sebastian had never seen his hair so wild.

“Are you okay? Were you attacked?” He squared Ominis’s shoulders and frowned at the red marks littering his neck. Anne giggling behind him made Sebastian piece together what he was seeing. His face twisted up in a look of disgust. “Oh, are you serious? In the middle of town?! Do I need to start escorting you two everywhere?”

“That’s hardly necessary,” you insisted at the same time Ominis admitted, “I don’t think that would stop her.”

“Give me that,” Sebastian growled as he took the basket of food from you. “Unbelievable, both of you. Go sit while I cook.”

“Let’s listen to Sebastian,” Ominis whispered with a smirk forming. Curious as to what he was planning, you let him guide you to the dining table. You’d expected him to pull out a chair for you, but he sat down first and then pulled you closer, patting his thigh. “Come on, he said to sit.”

Your heart was jumping haphazardly in your chest. You sat with your back pressed to his chest. His arms wasted no time snaking around your middle and pulling you close.

“Deplorable,” Sebastian muttered.

“No, it’s sweet. Quit acting like you’re so modest, and make my eggs,” Anne demanded. “I want my yolk runny.”

Sebastian sighed heavily, giving in, but only because his twin had ridiculed him. “Fine. And how would you like your eggs, Mr. and Mrs. Gaunt?”

“Whatever is easiest,” you offered.

“Preferably not poisoned,” Ominis suggested.

Y/N,

Feldcroft has been absolute mayhem while you've been away. I know this work trip is necessary, but I've never been shy to admit how selfish I am when it comes to you. If you are able to sneak away a few days early, let's not tell a soul. You can hide away in the house, and I could have you to myself just until others are expecting your return.

Speaking of others, I must warn you that your primroses have been trampled by Sebastian's son. I assume I don't even have to name which one was the culprit, but he has promised to help you replant them on your return. Sebastian would have done it with him, but somehow our dear friend managed to learn absolutely nothing during seven years of Herbology despite having such a watchful eye on our professor during classes. Perhaps you can bestow a bit of gardening knowledge on all his children that way they have hobbies that don't involve destroying our home when they visit.

Until then, I will miss the smell of the flowers almost as much as I miss you.

Your Husband,

Ominis

p.s. Please do consider my request that you return early. If not for me, then for the well-being of our home.

[loonfull-sonnetzz]

To Soothe The Ache

Note: I lost motivation for this fic so I decided to just post the WIP since ya'll have been waiting for AGES. Sorry guys :') No beta we die like Frou Frou

༊*·˚Pairing: Alexei Vronsky X Soldier!Transman!Reader

༊*·˚Universe: Anna Karenina (2012)

༊*·˚Summary: You and Vronsky are soldiers and secretly find comfort

༊*·˚Warnings: menstruation, cramps, unsafe binding (do not bind with bandages!! Please!!), historical inaccuracies, mentions of war, probably out of character Vronsky (hadn’t read or watched Anna Karenina sorry :( ) 

༊*·˚WC: 1k

Divider credit: Florietas 

Finally, serenity.

The cavalry unit you had found yourself in had traveled across the Stara Planina, trekking through the jagged peaks and small cliffs while leading the horses, praying to god your foot doesn’t slip on the ice or one of the horses panic from the distant howl of wolves that haunted the vicious winds. All for the sake of fighting off the Ottomans in Serbia. However, the stress was worth it, even as your legs screamed to rest and your eyelids began to go heavy from the restless nights guarding the makeshift camps the unit had made throughout the weeks.

Now your unit had finally left the mountains, finding a decent clearing amongst the soaring pines to rest once again. The wind no longer howls with threats, but whispers along the gently rattled pine needles. Between the spaces of the trees, up high, you could see stars twinkling in the inky night sky, hundreds and thousands of stars gazing down upon you – you could’ve sworn you could see into the eye of the milky way – Something you could never experience in your home city St. Petersburg where the fog and smoke hid the celestials. 

You took a deep breath. One good, deep and well-deserved breath. The crisp winter air filling your lungs, held, then exhaled – coming out as white mist that danced in the dark before dissipating.

But soon enough serenity would not last. Sure, it was relieving to be out late, no longer burdened by your comrades’ complaints and sharing company with the stars, but your body protested. Not just with the ache that dully throbbed in your legs or your eyes that you had to fight to keep open, but the pains that shoot from your hips and to your stomach, an unfortunate reminder of your secret. Stress could do so much before there could be no more delays and the time of the month comes crashing in. Or Alexei Vronsky chiding you for wearing your bandages for too long.

Alexei Vronsky, the man that was just as handsome as his frivolity and ambition, became an unlikely friend. It was all an accident, really. Months ago when they were stationed at some headquarters back home in Russia. Soldiers had to share washrooms, but you were vigilant and always went early in the morning or late at night when it came to changing so no one could know you were born a different boy, a boy who didn’t have the same body as the others. But one of those nights Vronsky was out for a while and returned late, exhausted and accidentally stumbling to the washroom to only catch a brief look as you panicked and slammed the door on his face. 

Even to this day it was hard to know why you had come out to him in the first place. Perhaps it was his hesitant inquiry, or the guilt for being rude for shutting the door on him. Or perhaps something more, that you both didn’t exactly fit societal norms. Vronsky may be charming, ambitious and brave – bearing the image of the perfect soldier, but he is still a man with his own struggles. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t freak out or prodded you with uncomfortable questions as most other people, especially aristocrats like him, usually did.

Shaking your head and pushing the reminiscing thoughts aside, you briskly make your way back to your tent. Your nimble fingers made way to your buttons in a swift fashion, undoing them until the top of your military uniform started to slide down your shoulders and gooseflesh covered your exposed skin. The cold once again reminding you of it’s limited mercy as it bit your flesh and sent chills down your spine. But hypothermia was probably better than cracking your ribs in the long run.

You were already about to unhook the pins that held the bandages before you heard someone clear their throat and call your name. You whipped your gaze at the intruder, stiffening up and crossing your arms over your chest instinctively before you realized who it was.

“Come here, will you?” Alexei murmured, his voice low and soothing like the distant babble of the creek. He drew you slowly enough that you could have pulled back easily. “You’ve already done so much for us since the beginning of this journey, this is the least I could do.”

You felt your face burn from the sudden praise and care, but you soon felt your shoulders droop and arms fall to your sides. He was right in a way, you could collapse at any point if the cramps or your duty as a soldier didn’t keep you up. So you let him trace the pins, unhooking them and unraveling the bandages. Your gaze flickered from his hands to his face, his brows a little furrowed with compassion and concentration as he buttoned up your uniform – not letting a moment of the wintry air freeze you or the discomfort of having your body vulnerable and exposed go on any further.

He catches your gaze as soon as he finishes, his hands lingering on the last button before one glides over to caress your cheek. His worry became more evident on his visage. “Is there something on your mind?”

The lie on your tongue was silenced by another wave of pain, making you hold your own waist and curling further to yourself. Alexei quickly holds you steady, his sapphire eyes flickering all over you to search for the cause of sudden agony.

“I’m bleeding out,” You said with a slightly self-deprecating chuckle, a little amused by Alexei’s fretting to something natural as menstruation. This only confused your fellow comrade before it seemed to click and he sighs and embraces you, his arms wrapped around your waist.

“I’ll be okay, it’s just cramps,” You said, biting down your tongue to smother a wince. But you didn't make an effort to leave and neither did Alexei, who didn’t look convinced by your lame excuse.

“I know, darling. But I'm not leaving your side to suffer this alone. I just want to make you feel better,”  He said, pulling back slightly to meet your gaze again. His hands trailing down to hold onto your hips, the warmth soothing the ache. Alexei then dipped his head down, his soft lips pressed against yours before he whispers against your lips. “How can I be of service?”