#when he perceives. all the eyes on his wings open

[doctorsiren]

Silly little monster AU swap but it’s Apollo and Trucy :)!!

[myfictionaldreams]

First Time // Poly!Marauders x Fem!Reader

Summary: At the beginning, you were simply four friends but how was it that you all became more than this? 

A/N: This has been requested so many times so I hope everyone enjoys the reader’s first time with the Marauders!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, foursome, fluff, dom/sub undertones, loss of virginity (reader’s first time), first kiss, blindfolds, intense, multiple orgasms, creampie, vaginal fingering, discussion of masturbation, wanking, anxiety, friends to lovers, praise kink, size difference, overstimulation

Words: 7.4k

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link 

The four of you were inseparable. Had been since the very first day on the train to Hogwarts. It was by sheer accident that you’d stumbled into their compartment, a nervous, quiet girl with no idea where to go and before you’d even opened your mouth to ask if you could sit with them, James was standing with his hand held out, “Hi my names James Potter, what's yours?”

From the outside, it looked like an odd friendship, having always remained the quiet student at the back of the class compared to the famous troublemakers that were: James, Sirius and Remus, they almost took you under their wing.

All these years later, you were never seen without one of them by your side. With your timidness, they often liked to be perceived as your protectors, and even though your fellow Gryffindors often joked about it, that sort of friendship is one you craved, needing to feel safe. It also didn’t help that they were undeniably handsome, and it was becoming increasingly more difficult to hide your attraction to them.

This added to the fact that due to the nature of your close relationship, they tended to be more affectionate with you than anyone else that had you hiding smiles, cheeks warm to the touch and heart beating firmer in your chest. Especially recently, the Marauders tended to keep one hand on your person at all times whether it’s casually holding your hand, resting one of your thighs in class or slinging an arm over your shoulder, it almost felt natural to be close to them at all times.

On this particular day, a group of Gryffindors were in the Hog's head, squished into a booth, drinking butter beer and laughing at Frank's attempt of convincing the bartender to serve him some fire whiskey. Taking another sip of the sugary goodness that was butter beer, the hand resting against your thigh squeezed slightly, making you look in the direction of the owner but Sirius was still shouting something to Frank at the bar.

The touch was always intimate, almost as intimate as the army casually thrown across your back, pulling you into the warmth of James as he chuckled into his own drink. You felt safe and happy squished between them both, glancing almost on instinct to the third who happened to be smiling at you from across the table. Remus’s gaze had your eyes dropping to a stare at a spot on the table to stop from grinning.

“It’s getting late and I think it’s still snowing, should we head back to the castle?” Marlene asked the group, the majority of which agreed, finishing their drinks and beginning to pile on the layers of clothing to face the winter weather.

When neither of the Marauders moved, you glanced up at James who was looking steadily at Remus for a moment before addressing his friends. “I’m not quite sure we’re ready to head back just yet, we’ll catch you later”.

“Don’t leave it too long guys with this weather, you know what she’s like on the icey path”, Marlene jokingly teased as she nodded in your direction. Your only response was a deadpan look in her direction, you weren’t that much of a liability, having only fallen over once and even then, Remus had caught you before colliding with the floor.

“Oh you know us, we wouldn’t let anything happen to her”, Sirius responded with his own smile, once again squeezing your thigh, his thumb stroking idle circles into the skin. Lifting the glass to your mouth to hide your giddy smile, you caught Lily’s eye as she reflected the smile you were hiding. Lily had known about your feelings for the boys, in fact, you were sure everyone knew but Lily was the only one you trusted to run to where you could discuss it in detail.

The group eventually left the four of you, and James was quick to buy another round of drinks for you all. Sirius's body shifted closer to yours, his lips hovering next to your ear as he asked, “So what would you like to do? Do you want to stay here or go somewhere else?” It was an innocent question but the way his eyes dropped to your lips, your heart fluttered faster behind your ribcage.

“I’ll do anything you guys want to do”.

“Oh, are you sure about that?” Sirius teased, his hand slide an inch higher on your thighs.

Knocking your shoulder against his, you playfully responded, “Stop teasing me, Sirius”.

James returned with the drinks, his arm returning to your shoulders as they began to contemplate possible places to visit. The shops had closed now so there were only a few places left such as a different pub but it was Remus who suggested; “why don’t we take her to our special space?”

Looking between the three Marauders, eyebrows knitting together, you had no idea where they were referring to, even more, confused as both James and Sirius agreed that was a good place to visit.

“How mysterious”, you quipped, drinking more of the butter beer, enjoying the slight buzz it was giving you, leaning further into James’ warmth, feeling completely relaxed. James smiled down at you, not that you could see from where you were smiling at Remus across the table as he tapped his foot against yours under the table.

There was only an hour left of daylight when the four of you finished your beverages and began to wrap up in hats, gloves and scarves, Sirius even helping you to zip up your coat before gripping your hips and steering you towards the exit. The hold was possessive but you didn’t mind.

It was ice cold outside, your cheeks burning from the bitter wind but luckily Remus was right there, offering his arm for you to huddle into. The tallest Marauder always ran oddly warm but you knew it was due to his furry little problem, of which he had confessed to you many years ago.

You weren’t paying much attention as to where they were taking you until the barbed wire fence was in your eyesight and you stopped in the middle of the path.

“I’m not going in there are you mad?”, your eyes were wide as you looked at the shrieking shack, the decrepit building swaying with the bitter winds.

“You aren’t scared are you?” Sirius mocked, stepping closer which caused you to lean further into Remus’ body. James joined in as well until they were all crowding around your frame, all three of them were much taller than you, which only meant that was something else that they could tease you for. 

“Don’t be scared, we’ll protect you.”

“The ghouls and ghosts won’t get you with your handsome knights to protect you.” 

Remus lightly shoved James and Sirius away at their joking which only made them laugh but you weren’t concentrating on that as you had realised that as you’d been leaning into Remus’ body, your hand had reached behind and was squeezing his thigh in fear.

Your body warmed with embarrassment, quickly letting go whilst ignoring just how muscular it felt and apologising to the scarred Marauder but he only smiled down endearingly at you, taking your smaller hand in his. 

“It’s not haunted, don’t listen to these idiots. This is where I come for my monthly visits”. This made you feel a little more relieved but it was still slightly terrifying as you all approached the building, making sure no one was around to see you all casually walking into the most haunted building in the UK.

The inside wasn’t as ghastly compared to the exterior, it was still rickety but clearly, from the boys’ regular visits, it was decorated nicely, even having a room with a lovely four-post bed, decorated with red silk sheets and three high back chairs surrounding a fire that Sirius swiftly lit with his wand.

“It’s cute!” you admit, looking at the bed before standing in front of the fire, beginning to take off your outside wear as the room began to heat.

As the sun began to set outside, the four of you relaxed in the room, Sirius sitting on the floor in front of the fire with the remaining three including you in the chairs. “Shall we check the map? I’d put 5 galleons on Alice and Frank being in a classroom somewhere”, James predicted, reaching into his back pocket and revealing the Marauders map, waving his wand and muttering the line and watching mesmerised as the map came to life.

This was one of the best things the group had created, spending hours and hours spying on students without leaving the comfort of your chair and it had revealed many people’s relationships.

“Ah, there I knew it!” James announced, pointing on the map to where Alice and Frank's name labels were hovering suspiciously close in an empty classroom. “Of course, it’s in that specific classroom as well, I’m pretty sure everyone in our years snogged in that room.”

A giggle spilt from your mouth, “not everyone James”, you admitted casually, looking at the other names on the map to see if there was any more gossip to reveal, not knowing the dumbstruck expression from the men surrounding you.

“What? I thought you had a little thing with Cresswell?” Remus asked perplexed.

“What, no! I’ve never even kissed anyone else, let alone be alone with him, ew-”

“What did you say?” Sirius asked, cutting you off on your disgusted tangent. You now realised just how much you had let slip. It wasn’t like you had been going out of your way not to be kissed, in fact, you rather liked the thought of being intimate with someone else but the opportunity had never come your way.

“I mean, yeah I’ve never kissed anyone before but it’s fine, I don’t mind”, it was a small white lie but you just wanted the conversation to move on. 

“But… how?!” James asked, moving slightly closer to you.

“Well, how can anyone get close enough to me to kiss me when you’re always around? I mean do you remember when Lockhart tried to ask me to Slughorn’s Christmas ball? You just about traumatised the poor guy”.

James smirked at the memory, “If I do recall correctly, you didn’t want to go with him anyway”.

“That’s not the point I’m trying to make, I’ve just not had the opportunity and anyway, it’s fine! Can we please stop talking about it, this is embarrassing”.

The Marauders wanted to do anything but move on from this conversation, Remus decided to speak next, his voice low as he asked: “Would you like to kiss someone?”

Your eyes widened slightly, immediately looking into his, mouth feeling suddenly dry, your body feeling too warm as Sirius continued the questioning front the floor, “I mean if you’re going to kiss someone, it might as well be with someone you trust… right?”

Your automatic response was to laugh, not being able to hide the anxiety laced in your voice, moving subtly to sit on your hands to hide the gentle tremble. “Well, now there’s loads of pressure! What if I’m a bad kisser and then you never talk to me again? And who am I supposed to pick? And-”

“Honey, stop freaking out, it’s not supposed to give you anxiety, it’s a nice thing”, James tried to reason with you, his hand reaching across from where he sat to gently brush down your arm before his eyes lit up with an idea. “How about - if you still want to -, we make this easier for you?”

James took out his wand from his pocket, pointing it at one of his gloves that lay over the arm of his chair, and in a split second, the material had changed into a long cloth. Picking it up, he held it out to you, “What if you can’t see who kisses you, then you don’t have to worry about the anxiety of picking and if you don’t like it we can stop and act as if nothing has happened and you won’t even be able to tell who you’d kissed?”

You stared at the cloth in his hand, realising it was meant to be used for a blindfold. There was nothing that you wanted more than to say yes and before even contemplating the realities of the situation, you were agreeing to his proposition.

One moment you were sitting in your chair, and the next you were in the centre of the room, nervously shifting your weight from one foot to the other, your sight completely masked by the cloth now tied around your head.

“Relax darling”, Sirius spoke next to your ear. His request was easier said than done as you could hear the three of them walking around you in a circle, so you couldn’t tell who was about to kiss you, losing track the further they walked as to where it sounded like Sirius had even been stood.

Your hands were shaking even more at your sides, mentally you tried to remember to breathe. But this was such a weird situation to be in, your limbs didn’t even feel like they were a part of your body now, where were you supposed to do with your arms? And your lips, should you purse your lips in preparation? Should you have brushed your teeth?

A single finger slides under your chin, stopping any thought from spiralling through your mind. With ease, your head was tipped back, almost impossibly far from how your neck ached, forgetting just how much taller the boys were than you. The sweet butterbeer breath then fanned across the skin of your face and also gave nothing away as you all had been drinking it.

Then a pair of lips were touching yours. Delicately. Tentatively. Almost as if they were scared that you were going to break, so soft that your initial reaction wasn’t too tense like you’d expect it to be, but instead your shoulders dropped slightly with ease. Whoever it was were more than careful and you were truly unable to identify just who it was.

And then they were gone, leaving your head tilted back, mind ablaze with wanting and needing them to come back.

Having heard your thoughts, a warm hand glided across your jaw, holding the position of your head as lips were suddenly pressing against yours once more with a much more intense pressure. The lips were full, slightly moist from where the Marauder had licked them before leaning in. Your nose pressed into his cheek which meant that you could move past the smell of the butter beer and his natural scent filled your sense giving you the identification of whom you were kissing.

Not that you needed to as Sirius’ long hair brushed across your face. Your heart was pounding so hard in your chest that you were sure that he could hear it but it didn’t stop him from holding you close.

It felt almost normal, natural even as your best friend pushed his lips harder against yours for a second before pulling back. You were confused by the loss of his lips but he was only tilting his head and then he was kissing you again with more passion. On instinct, you sighed into the touch, your body feeling like it was melting into the floor as Sirius moved his lips steadily against yours, giving you time to accustomed to the movements of kissing before he was backing off.

In the far reaches of your mind, you were having an absolute meltdown, screaming into your consciousness that you were actually kissing your best friends. The Marauders, your childhood friends were actually kissing you.

Another person was stepping into your personal bubble, hand once again on your jaw, cradling your head and another hand slid to your hip, pulling your body flush against a much firmer one. Then you were being kissed again, head tilted at the same angle that Sirius had held you in but with a little bit of practice, you leaned further into the embrace, hand lifting to rest against James’ chest, knowing it was him from the lingering musky cologne that was on his skin and only he had these specific toned hard body from his Quidditch practice.

A small moan escaped you, lost completely in the time and it was like sweet music to James as he smiled against your mouth but just like Sirius, just as you were starting to get into it, he stepped back leaving you feeling cold and lonely.

Instinctinyl your body tried to follow after him but he was already out of your grasp, their footsteps could still be heard, even if you couldn’t see a single thing through the blindfold. It was highly disorientating, almost felt dizzy but that was also mostly from the breathless kisses. As the three men continued to talk in circles around you, your tongue darted out and moistened your lips and you had to hold back a groan at being able to taste something that wasn’t you, realising it was a mixture of Sirius and James' mouths.

As you took a deep breath to try and gather more courage a body was once more in front of yours, tilting your chin further and further until Remus could lean in and capture your lips.

Remus absolutely devoured your mouth. Holding you close so he could press you closer, his tongue teasing against your lips, begging for you to respond to him which you did, opening and letting his tongue dance with yours. Raising onto your tip toes to try and reach more of him, needing more, already as addicted to his taste as you were to the other two, needing his warmth.

You could have cried with happiness as he didn’t step back immediately as his lips left yours. Instead, they made their own path down your neck, tasting your skin, finding the areas that had your knees wobbling and breath catching in your throat.

But of course, this would not last as he was gone again but thankfully the wait wasn’t long as a different set of lips were replacing Remus’, this time exploring your jaw, spending time to tease beneath your ear where you hadn’t realised you were so sensitive until a shiver passed through you.

Your hands found their way into the shirt of the man now gently nibbling your ear, the press of his glasses against your cheek, you knew it was James who had returned. With nothing covering your mouth, there was nothing to hold back the mewls and whimpers, especially as James moved lower, teeth grazing over your pulse mouth. His wicked mouth was sending you into a needy puddle.

“Please…”. You weren’t entirely sure what you were pleading for but Sirius answered by sliding his body behind yours, his hands resting comfortably against your hips, dipping his head to the opposite side of your neck to James.

“What do you want sweetheart?”

“I don’t know…”, you internally cursed yourself with just how desperate you sounded. It wasn’t that there was anything specifically that you were wanting, just knowing you needed everything.

Having already kissed all three of them, which was a big deal in itself, but the dampening between your legs was desperately screaming to be touched, and you wanted to touch them, even if you weren’t sure what to do.

“I can see you thinking too much, just breath Baby, relax into our touch, let us make you feel good.”

Your mind seemed to disappear of all thoughts, the only sensation was the burning of your skin with every nibble and lick that they doing to your body. However, your anxiety was always there just to bubble to the surface, your body tensing slightly as you stuttered.

“But…But I-”.

James stopped kissing your neck, all three of them pausing feeling the tension as you began to panic. Sirius ran a warm hand up your clothed back in soothing circled as you struggled to think of the words you were desperate to say.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do love. We can stop if it’s getting too much for you”, Sirius continued to try and soothe you.

“I don’t want to stop”, you finally were able to choke out, something that you truly meant. “I just-”, biting your lip contemplating the words, slightly embarrassed but a rough fingertip eased your lip from between your teeth.

“Talk to us,” it was Remus now speaking from somewhere to your right, but you couldn’t feel him other than the finger and thumb on your chin.

“I don’t know what I’m doing”, you admitted finally.

To be honest, you’d expected them to laugh however when they didn’t, your body seemed to relax, especially realising that they were all now stroking a part of your body to try and help to calm you down.

“We don’t expect you to know what you are doing love. We want you to experience these things, to make you feel good. Just let us take care of you. Do you want the blindfold off?” Remus asked.

You shook your head with a response of now. Even though you could tell who was kissing you now, the thought of actually looking them in the eye was too real. They were your best friends, and they were making you feel good so in your blissful ignorance of having a blindfold on, you didn’t have to look them in the eye at least.

“Do you want to continue?” James asked from in front, his lips grazing your temple in a comforting way.

“Yes”.

“Will you tell us to stop if you become too uncomfortable?”

“Yes”.

No one moved for a moment, almost having a silent conversation between the three of them before James was tilting your head back from where it was leaning on Sirius’ chest. You’d expected him to kiss you but his lips moved lower, lips pursed blowing cool air against your burning skin. His hand which was slightly rough from the calloused from training on his broom, inched down your neck, following the sensual air that he was blowing until he teased the material of your shirt.

Your chest was rising and falling dramatically, desperately sucking in air as you didn’t stop his fingers as he began to unbutton your shirt, slowly, one at a time, making sure to stroke the exposed skin until reaching the top of your breasts did he stop.

However, he only stopped so that he could push the material away from your shoulder, moving to kiss the skin there, the sensations once again new. However, Remus didn’t give you time to gasp as he tilted your face in the direction that he was facing, kissing you breathlessly and hungrily.

Sirius still stood behind you, pulling your body into his enough that if you weren’t being distracted by the other two, you’d noticed the throbbing lump in his trousers. Instinctively you were leaning into him more, savouring his warmth. Sirius’ hands began to curve around your waist, teasing along the hem of your shirt, dipping beneath to brush against your bare skin. Your hips rolled as his fingers ticked slightly but you already knew you’d be craving to feel his fingers on your skin in the future, loving the sensation of someone actually touching you in an area that had been unexplored before.

The long-haired Marauder began to unbutton your shirt from the bottom, slowly grazing over your navel until there was only one single button holding your shirt together in between your breasts.

Remus pulled back to peek down at your body, sucking in a breath as his eyes darkened, watching Sirius unbutton the last one with a simple flick of his fingers, exposing your front. Your shirt floated open to reveal the laced bra covering your breasts, but your perked nipples were still visible through the thin material.

“So fucking pretty”, James complimented as he pushed the offending material off your shoulders and onto the floor and stared down at your chest like the other two men. You were already flushing at the compliment and would have probably combusted if you could see the hungry gaze of the Marauders looking at your body.

James couldn’t wait anymore as his large hand cupped your breast and his tongue licked your nipple through the lace. “Ah!” your back arched into the touch, fingers desperately gripping into his messy hair, holding him there. Even though his tongue was warm and soft, the sensation it caused was like hot fire straight to your core, like a bolt that had your thighs rubbing together to try and ease some of the tension that was catapulting through you.

It felt so good that you were begging for more with a desperate plea as James moved to the other breast. Sirius was going absolutely feral for your moans, having wanted to hear them for so long but he needed to keep his calm, instead moving to inch his hand up your naked spine, finding the clasp of your bra and with a single kiss to the back of your head, undid the bra.

The thin straps fell from your shoulders and you had to momentarily release the grip on James’ hair to allow the material to fall completely from your body and onto the floor. Without even a second to process the venerable state that you were in, being topless around another person for the first time, James and Remus moved with sync and began to worship your breasts.

Each nipple was sucked into the warm mouth, teeth teasing the tip before being comforted by a stroke of a tongue, hands squeezing the rest of the flesh of your breasts, absolutely taking your breath away. Each movement had your body rock and underwear continuing to dampen.

Your head flew back against Sirius’ chest, glad that he was there to support you, feeling unsteady.

“Fuck, you look so beautiful” Sirius’ voice was rasping as he whispered into your ear. With gentle hands, he tilted your head back so that he could kiss you passionately, almost dizzy with lust, forgetting to breathe as his tongue stroked yours. Sensing your unsteadiness, Sirius pulled back, much to your distaste as you groaned in want. “Remember to breath”, he reminded you.

Remus pulled off your nipple with an audible ‘pop’, looking up into your face to make sure that you did as instructed, smiling as you gasped for a couple of breaths. Once again your knees felt unsteady with holding up your body as James gave a significant suck to your nipple.

“Let’s move onto a more sturdy surface”, Remus suggested but you were hardly even listening with the euphoria you were experiencing, feeling completely alive and blazing. However as you were moved by the three men, it was even more disorientating, not knowing where you even were in the room anymore until you were being eased down onto the soft, silky bed.

Shifting until you could feel the divots of the pillow in the centre of the bed, it dawned on you just how exposed and intimate it was with the position that you were in. Especially as you weren’t joined immediately, knowing they were looking at you lying and waiting on the bed for them.

Eventually, one of them climbed onto the bed and you could feel it dip by your feet as whoever it was inched between your legs, crawling your body until they were able to kiss up your sternum. Moaning as whoever was touching your body, grazed the edge of your trousers, teasing for them to be undone.

Then the bed was shifting again as someone else climbed onto it, picking up one of your hands, kissing your palm, and making his way up your forearm. The lips tickled the skin as they made their own journey towards your mouth before you were devoured by Sirius, his taste exploding against your tongue as he released his own groan that caused your hips to roll against Remus, hinting for him to carry on with his plan.

Slowly, your trouser button and zipper were undone to allow him to begin pulling them down your legs. Remus was quick to kiss the newly exposed skin down your legs, whispering “beautiful” between pecks.

“You’ll tell us to stop if it’s too much…?” James asked from across the bed, he’d been watching his friends devour you, trying to memorise the sight before him, knowing they were approaching a place that they could not return from.

“Don’t stop,” you say breathlessly as Sirius had moved away for you to answer the question. Remus grinned against your leg, hooking his fingers into your underwear, dragging the material down your naked legs and at the same time, James began leaning down to kiss your breasts again, making sure to keep your arousal high as he ran the rips of his fingers over the curves of your hips, hitting a particulary sensitive spot on the inside.

Sirius wanted to kiss you again, seeing you completely naked on the bed but he also wanted to see your reaction to being touched for the first time so he waited, even though you were half covered by the blindfold, he watched your mouth as Remus made the first move between your legs.

With his scarred hand he began by brushing a hand over your mound, tickling the skin, as he used his other hand to open your legs up further, giving him a better view as his thumb finally stroked your clit.

“Oh Merlin”, you cried out, back arching which only pushed your breast further into James’ mouth. You couldn’t believe this was actually happening, someone was actually touching your pussy.

Remus didn’t want to completely overwhelm you so made sure to keep his mouth nibbling along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, watching how your body reacted to all of the delicate touches. His thumb rolled your clit slowly in circles, matching the way you were rolling your hips.

“Have you ever touched yourself here?” Remus asked with a sly smirk plastered across your face, no that you could see it. Sirius was still watching you just as intensely as Remus as he gripped your jaw tenderly, holding you there.

“Yes”.

James smiled around your puffy nipple, groaning at the thought.

“How do you touch yourself?” Remus continued his questioning.

Thankful for the blindfold, even though you were slightly embarrassed at least you weren’t having to look at them as you answered. “I…I touch myself where you’re touching”, referring to your bundle of nerves.

Remus pressed a fraction harder, drawing a moan from you. “What, here?”

“Yes”.

“Where else?”

“I … sometimes put a finger inside of me”, actually saying these words to him, your best friend was thrilling, especially as with each answer you gave, one of the three men would moan deeply.

“Just one finger?”

“Two”, you answered honestly.

“Good girl”, Sirius says to your honesty, his thumb brushing your jaw in a calming way. The praise he uttered was almost like a lightbulb moment which Remus noticed instantly as your hole suddenly clenched in arousal.

“What else do you do?” Remus continued to ask, wanting to know every single detail of your masturbation.

You were so lost in your arousal that you began talking without thinking, breathing heavily now with your mouth gaping open. “I… hump my pillow and think about this”.

This confession seemed to stop them in confusion, groaning as Remus had stopped his motions.

“What do you mean by ‘this’, love?”, James asked from your chest. You wanted to escape and tried to hide your face in the bed but Sirius’ grip held strong and then he tutted, understanding just what you meant.

“By this… did you mean us? Do you think about us when you’re touching yourself?”

“Yes”, you admitted, past the point of caring now.

“Fuck”, one of them cursed.

“Want to know something?” Sirius continued, “I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve pumped my cock with you in mind. I’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long.”

Remus didn’t give you time to respond as he teased your entrance with his finger, his thumb continuing to tease your favourite spot. Your hips were still rolling desperate to feel more and he took that as his sign to finally breach your walls.

“Fuck, you’re so wet”, Remus groaned as he pushed his finger inside of your cunt. It was a sensation you weren’t entirely sure how to explain, it was so different to your smaller fingers but all you knew was that you wanted more as he began to slowly pull out to push back in.

Sirius and James stopped to watch how you reacted, finding it the most beautiful sight as you breathed greedily, hands clenching the sheets harshly, thighs shaking from having to keep them open, wanting nothing more than to slam them shut and ride his hand much like you’d imagined with your pillow all of those times.

As Remus added another finger to your eagerly awaiting cunt, James and Sirius swapped positions. Sirius teased and played with your breasts and kissed along your sternum as James moved between leaving open-mouth kisses along your throat, to absorbing your moans with his own mouth.

Remus was careful not to hurt you, knowing this was the first time you’d had anything the size of his fingers in there, making sure that you were wet enough and relaxed before curling his fingers and pressing more firmly in swipes across your bundle of nerves.

It was an instant reaction, to reach for that pleasure as you released the grip on the bed to try and grab Remus but instead held onto James and Sirius's heads, using them as momentum to ride the fingers inside of you.

The sensation swarmed you quickly, the coil in your abdomen almost overwhelmingly tight as you called out into Sirius’ mouth, the orgasm taking your breath away completely, legs dropping down onto the bed.

All the whilst, Remus was praising you, “That’s a good girl, you’re doing so well”. It was unlike anything you’d been able to give to yourself and it took a moment to catch your breath as the three of them waited patiently. Your entire body felt relaxed in the after-orgasmic glow.

“What do you want to do sweetheart? Do you want to stop?” Sirius asked as he tenderly kissed your cheek, something you leaned into.

“No, I want to keep going but… I don’t think-, I mean, all three of you, I don’t-”.

“Shh”, Sirius cut off your words with a swipe of his thumb against your lips. “Not all three of us, not with your first time darling. We have all the time in the world for more”. Your heart pounded at the possibility that this wasn’t a one-time thing but then another mouth next to your other ear had you drifting back to the moment as he kissed along the shell of your ear.

“It’ll just be me today my love, how does that sound? I’ll look after you…”

You nodded your head, wanting him desperately, not that it mattered which of the three it was, this was actually happening, your arousal spiking once more as you turned your head towards James to try and kiss him which he gladly reciprocated.

But all too quickly he was leaning away from you, leaving that side of your body cold and empty. “You’ll tell me to stop if you need me to, won’t you?” James asked from somewhere further than on the bed as he began to strip off his clothes, not that you could see.

“Yes”, you verbally say rather than nodding your head, hand reaching out to touch one of them, smiling when Sirius’ lips nipped the tips of your fingers, nuzzling into your palm as you rested it against his cheek.

Remus also moved on the bed, climbing over your body to move his lips against yours, distracting you completely from the situation but then as James’ hands began trailing over your legs, parting them and giving him room did it dawn on you again that you were actually about to lose your virginity.

Remus and Sirius seemed to move away now leaving you and James in the middle of the bed. “Do you want to keep this on?” James asked, poking the material tied around your head.

Contemplating for a moment - even though all of this foreplay had been fun with the blindfold and it had helped with your anxiety, your virginity could only be taken once and you wanted to fully be in the moment so steadily, you removed the cloth from covering your eyes.

It took a moment of squinting your eyes to adjust properly to the light in the room that mostly came from the fire at the other end of the room. What you’d anticipated were regret and fear but as James gazed down at you with his soft brown, wide eyes, and glasses fixed on his face all you felt was safe in his arms.

Even as you caught sight of Remus and Sirius to the sides, their hands moving up and down their shafts as they chased their own highs watching the two of you, it didn’t feel embarrassing, it felt right. There was no one you trusted more in the world than these three and even in this vulnerable state, you wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment forever.

“Hi,” you said timidly up at him, a smile spreading across his handsome face in response. James lowered his body over yours, almost cocooning and moulding the two of you together and his natural body heat helped to keep you relaxed as his nose bumped yours.

“It’s just us, love”, he whispered against your lips before kissing you, tongue dancing with your own making you moan at the taste of him. Your legs moved on their own accord, wrapping around his hips, ankles locking together, almost pulling him closer until you felt his noticeable length graze your thigh.

Trying not to lose your cool, your hands landed on his shoulders, feeling the toned muscles beneath before cupping his jaw as he pulled back. James watched your face closely, wanting to see every emotion that you had as his hand disappeared between your bodies to align his cock with your cunt.

Similarly to Remus, James was very aware that this was your first time and was very aware that this could potentially hurt so he moved slowly, his tip gradually breaching your hole.

Your eyebrows knitted together, your mouth dropping open as you looked down to where your bodies were now joined. It was intense the further he moved, it wasn’t horrifically painful but still stung as you stretched to a size you’d definitely never had before. James stopped at one point, not fully penetrating in but just giving your body to adjust as he finally dipped his head to kiss your swollen lips, distracting you from the discomfort.

The Marauder waited for you to nod your head to continue moving and after a few more small thrusts, your cunt had accustomed to his size, even beginning to move your hips with his. His cock felt so incredibly deep inside of you, each fuck in and out was hitting every single spot that you craved to be touched.

James groaned at how tight you felt, almost suffocating his cock, it was unbelievably good, seeing how you looked underneath him, your eyes glazed, mouth open in a constant string of moans.

You were so lost in the emotions and pleasure that you couldn’t even speak and warn that you were about to cum but James could tell by the tightening of your cunt. “Cum for me sweetheart, fuck you feel so good”, James encouraged.

He held intense eye contact, mouths brushing each other but not fully kissing, just remaining close so you came hard once more, thighs squeezing his hips harshly.

“Wait, ahh-” you cry out, needing James to pause with how sensitive you were feeling and James had to hide his face into your neck from not cumming with how tightly your cunt was convulsing around his cock. It took a few minutes of deep breathing and James’ hands massaging over your body to calm enough before rolling your hips, signalling for James to continue.

As he began to thrust back into you, the messy-haired man sat back on his knees, pushing both of your legs up to your chest which was when Sirius and Remus moved back over to the bed and you were thankful for this, almost like they could read your mind as you were about to moan for them.

In this position, it gave Sirius the perfect opportunity to circle your clit with his fingers in time with James' thrusts. You were crying out again, throat beginning to feel raw with how much you’d been moaning but you also never wanted it to end, it just felt so good.

Remus casually sat next to you, his hand continuing to pump his impressively sized cock, and he smirked as he caught you looking at it with wide eyes, not understanding how that would ever fit in you.

You wanted desperately to kiss Remus but he simply held your jaw so that you had to watch him touching himself as he watched you getting fucked by his best friend.

James' moans increased in sound as his cock throbbed inside of you, desperately close to reaching his own climax.

“Is he making you feel good?” Remus asked, looking down your body at where Sirius was touching you.

“Yes, he feels so good, I think I’m going to cum again”, you admitted between moans, Sirius’ fingers moving with more pressure as he heard how close you were.

“Good, I want you to cum before Prongs does”, Remus’s dominant tone had you heating with even more arousal if that was even possible. His intense stare, the hold on your jaw, the guarantee of feeling safe, there was no way you weren’t going to cum that very moment.

Chanting ‘yes’ with each thrust, you came, eyes having to close to try and remain in control and this was all James needed to release his cum deep within your cunt, groaning needing at how fucking good you felt. You felt almost close to tears with the stimulation you’d experienced, your body reeling from the multiple orgasms but also aching from being licked, stroked and fucked, it was a little overwhelming now.

James eased his cock out of your hole causing you to wince slightly as the euphoric feelings began to fade away, you still felt good but needed a good rest. The brown-eyed boy smiled apologetically down at you, gently kissing your cheek before climbing off of the bed to retrieve his wand from his discarded trouser pockets.

Just as you were able to ask for a tissue to clean up in between your legs, James waved his wand and the mess that was a mixture of yours and his juices disappeared.

“Thank you”, your voice was quiet, thick with exhaustion as you dropped your head onto the bed. Sirius was soon crawling next to you, his body quickly wrapping around yours, causing you to turn on to your side, his face nuzzling into your neck.

What was going to happen now? Would they even want to still be your friend? Would you all wake up tomorrow and regret what had happened? You knew for sure that you didn’t regret anything only worried for the repercussions.

A flick to the tip of your nose had you glancing up at Remus as he too lay on the bed now, facing you and it then only registered that he and Sirius had cum whilst watching you being fucked by James but you’d been so lost in your own pleasure that you hadn’t noticed.

“Stop thinking so hard”, Remus whispered, stroking your cheek tenderly. “We’ll talk about this all tomorrow but you haven’t lost us, we’ll still be right by your side when you wake up”. You took a deep breath, the tension melting away as you smiled at him before closing your eyes.

Tomorrow was a new day, a new start to whatever was going on between the four of you but one thing was certain, you’d need to speak to Lily about making some birth control potion soon.

[silkjade]

THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF A PORCELAIN HEART

alhaitham x reader ⤀ synopsis: even the most resilient of hearts must shed its armor, and despite your efforts to appear strong, alhaitham still senses your distress ⤀ cw: gn!reader, your heart is referred to as 'she', insecurity issues, fear of vulnerability, hurt/comfort — ꒰ 1.5k wc ꒱ ⤀ notes: this is a vent drabble, so reader is based on me. extremely self indulgent + selfship coded. ending edited 8.26.24, prev titled ‘still with hearts beating’

“tell me atlas. what is heavier: the world or its people’s hearts?” — darshana suresh

Although he prefers to keep his nose buried in a book, Alhaitham is still as perceptive as ever, taking note of all the minuscule changes in your demeanor, even whilst you don a mask to stifle your woes.

He sees it first in the wistful sighs scattered amongst your too calm breaths, in your crafted smile, too practiced to be natural, and the strained words that fall too heavily out your lips, each in a race to prove that everything is normal and fine — that any anomalous behavior might only be the ramifications of an exhausting day.

Your name rolls so naturally off his tongue, as he reaches out to you, catching your wrist before you can disappear into the bedroom and sleep away your swallowed emotions.

“Are you alright?”

He asks out of courtesy, but to him, the signs are clear as day: the sharp inhale and slow exhale as you rally to fabricate another facade, chin tilted just a smidge too high as you turn to face him, dull eyes glistening with the remnants of unshed tears, forced to retreat by the winged flutter of your lashes.

To him, the signs are clear as day that you are not, that you are only putting on a brave face, something which he finds odd within the threshold of your shared home.

“Just tired is all,” you reply, speaking in half truths. After all, it's exhausting trying to keep up appearances when all you wish to do, is to curl into yourself and rot into your bed.

You flash him a quick smile, small and devoid of warmth; a lame imposter to the very one he’s grown so terribly fond of.

He repeats your name, this time softer, brows knitted with equal parts skepticism and concern at your empty words. Empty words filled with even emptier spirit, he notes.

Nonchalant, rehearsed, refined — and yet, he can hear the melancholia that spills into your tone. see the downward twitch of your lead-laden lips and the watery shift of your eyes as you avert your gaze in self-consciousness.

“You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmurs, and you want to believe him, want to believe that you’re brave enough to lay down your defenses, that you can trust him to hold your porcelain heart in his hands without threat of endangerment.

You open your mouth to speak, but not a sound comes out as the words turn to bile in your throat. To swallow the bitter liquid, or to spit your heart out and lay it bare for him to see. For Alhaitham, who is more than just an Akademiya giant, but a cornerstone of Sumeru itself: brilliant and brave, kind in spite of his unconventional displays. The sun who shines by the heat of his own radiance.

His moon, he calls you. And yet the moon does not glow; the moon whose only light is a reflection of the sun.

You purse your lips, internally willing yourself to believe that these tears will not spill. It'd be egregious — like coughing up blood when you too have a reputation to uphold, a certain presence to be perceived. For even the moon, who shines by grace of borrowed light, is steadfast in its quiet elegance.

“It’s fine,” you insist, “really.” It’s heavy under the weight of your pride, but at least your heart is safe here in your chest, isolated and tucked away.

You push until he relents, relaxing his grip around your wrist. Good, you think, he's given up. But then why does it so painfully squeeze your heart in a way you cannot convey — like a hair-lined fracture upon your brittle bones.

But Alhaitham is no fool; he intends to prove he’d catch you before you can shatter, freeing your wrist, only so that he might pull you into his arms instead. There is no shortage to the vast infinity of words he can say, but matters of the heart have never been his forte… and so he hopes that his actions might speak more profoundly than his words.

The sudden impact blows your eyes wide with surprise, tears already threatening to spill from the solace of just his embrace. There are no sounds other than his steady heart and even breaths, no scent besides the faded woody fragrance of his cologne. It's safe here, cocooned in his arms, and you think that for a moment, perhaps everything is and will be fine.

You relax against him, basking in his warmth, as you rest into the crook of his neck, absentmindedly staring at the patterns on the floor.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispers, “but please don’t hide from me.”

Your hands, pressed flush against his chest, curl into themselves, relieved that he cannot see the tears welling in your eyes. He does, however, feel that first crystalline droplet that slides freely down your cheeks, melting into the fabric of his clothes as more follow. Alhaitham runs his fingers through your hair, while his other hand hugs you by the small of your back, holding you ever closer. The occasional sob racks your body, silent and reluctant, but it’s a start.

A heart is a complex web of earnest emotions, floridly woven into secrets he cannot fault you for keeping locked away in a vault. Perhaps one day, you’d rely on him, let him in to share the burden. and if he should be so lucky, perhaps you'd deem him worthy to be your home, so that you might rest with him, without armor... but as for now, he’ll gladly cushion your fall, give you a soft place to land.

In the night’s dark embrace, the moon’s milky light paints patterns through the stained glass window of your bedroom, and behind you, your lover’s arms stay wrapped around your waist, holding you close beneath the blankets.

“… Alhaitham?” your voice is delicate, spun from silk amidst the quiet of the night.

“Hmm?” he peaks an eye open at the unfamiliar use of his full name.

“If I ask you something, do you promise to answer honestly?”

“I don’t see any reason not to.” The low vibrations of his tone tickles your skin as he replies with a kiss to your shoulder.

“Am I…,” you hesitate, voice wavering as you contemplate whether words whispered into the wind might write itself into stone. “Am I… enough for you?”

The seconds seem to stand still, as if all the world and even the sky itself, were holding its breath in bated anticipation.

Finally, a creak cuts through the silence as the bed shifts alongside Alhaitham, who now hovers over you, his body and arms trapping you in between. The intensity of his gaze prompts you to look away, but he reaches for your chin, holding you gently so that you have nowhere to look, save for his technicolored eyes.

Enough for him? Is that what you were upset about? What a shame, he thinks.

“If you could only see what I see,” he murmurs, with a kiss to your forehead. His moon, his stars, his entire night sky, who guides him in the dark.

“You're intelligent and intuitive,” he murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and down your neck in between each word. “Beautiful and independent—sometimes too independent—but that just means you're strong. Capable of anything…”

Alhaitham glances up, only satisfied once the insecurity is dispelled from your features, and replaced by an absolute reassurance.

“…which I knew from the moment you made me fall completely in love with you."

He peppers your face with little kisses, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh, almost embarrassed. “Haitham…”

Alhaitham pauses at your first genuine smile of the night. “I mean every word — I love you because you're you. I know you like to pretend otherwise, but you have a gentle heart, and I only hope you'll deem me worthy of it one day.”

Guilt flashes in your eyes as you open your mouth to speak, but anything you had intended to say, is drowned in the depth of his kiss. A part of you wishes to stay like this forever so that you might melt into his embrace — he who loves you so dearly, he who hopes his true feelings are adequately translated into this kiss...

...but your heart sighs in understanding, finally calm as she's held afloat by the strength of his affection. It's familiar, it's safe, it's home.

And if not for the lack of air, Alhaitham knows he'd kiss you forever, irrational as it may be. Pulling away, he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead — another promise of his affirmation. “You don't have to say anything, I'm happy to wait. Just know you’re more than enough, just as you are. And no one should be able to take that away from you, so…”

He rolls back into bed, pulling you with him as he goes, so that you might drift to sleep with your head resting atop his chest, listening to the steady tune of his heart, as it sings to you in your dreams.

notes2: this was actually vrie therapeutic but i did not intend for it to get this long, and so i m a bit embarrassed (don’t perceive) however if u have made it this far, as always, thank u for reading ♡

© silkjade — do not steal, plagiarize, translate or repost any content onto any other platform

[violet-eng]

Neuvillette and his arranged marriage with fem!reader - NSFW

Summary: so... Furina is such a gossipy and she's kinda boring so she wants Neuvillette to marry to some random girl that can be a challenge for him... would he like this traveler?

TW: smut. Has a plot. Kinda angst? p i v. Breeding kink, praising. Unprotected sex with this daddy judge. I think that's all... MINORS DO NOT INTERACT PLEASE JUST KEEP SCROLLING.

🎨: @zlidbhypy/@zljdbhypy

💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦💦

The judge had lived long enough to be carried away by appearances, his image in society was expected of a man with his profession, with his knowledge and his stature. However, in the eyes of Lady Furina, as much a lover of spectacle and scandal as possible, the great judge needed a slightly more modern image to present to the citizens of Fontaine-and perhaps to bring a little gossip as well.

The idea had consumed her so much that at the moment she met you she could think of nothing else but arranging an engagement with Monsieur Neuvillette. You were the living image of what she was looking for: a young woman of society, a foreigner with a wide knowledge of the vast continent and above all, ambitious. 

There was a flash that Lady Furina highlighted in you, a furious soul difficult to tame, a challenge for the great judge. How fun it would be to see that: the distinguished gentleman try to control the disdain of his future wife, lover of saucers with spicy mixes, so friendly to those with vision Pyro... almost as contrary to him.

You met Neuvillette a day before the wedding, when Lady Furina had given him the wonderful news that he would marry you. He could not refuse, not the Archon, and she was aware of that-that made the matter more fun.

Neuvillette looked serene during the announcement, did not give the Archon the joy of a grimace of disgust... of course not, he was not like that...

On the wedding day rain fell so much as to drown the neighboring nations, tormenting those present of the ceremony. Monsieur Neuvillette was outside the compound, admiring the horizon, yearning for the freedom he possessed years before. To this had its existence been reduced? To be a puppet for the entertainment of the Archon? To tie himself for life to a woman he didn’t even know? If only he could return to his old form... spread his wings and get out of that place...

"The rain is wonderful," you exclaimed beside him, tearing from his chest an impression he managed to hide. "I hope the tears of the Hydro dragon are of happiness for the wedding and not of misery".

"They’re just legends, stories for children," he said, though an inch of him, deep down, was delighted by the idea that unlike the rest of Fontaine’s inhabitants, you didn’t dislike the rain... the one he was provoking...

"All legends have some truth in them," you whispered, giving him a sincere smile.

The ceremony had been short because of the rain, yet your happiness was overflowing. Your dress was drenched, your hair was alike... Everything was ruined, Lady Furina kept saying it, and yet you seemed to be living the best day of your life. Neuvillette could not look away from you at any moment, you had bewitched him, a single phrase had sufficed to achieve that...

The room was spacious, exquisitely decorated, illuminated to depth, the details and finishes seemed measured with hard effort... very much like the great judge. You had been unwise to ask if you had separate rooms, that had upset him for a moment... You certainly didn’t seem to have the same scruples as him.

You opened the window of the room, resting your elbows on the frame and sucking the dew that the rain brought with it. Neuvillette stood still in his place, looking at your figure, analyzing every detail of your silhouette, trying to perceive your essence, your energy... There was definitely something special about you.

"Can I come out?" you asked, were you asking permission?

"You must not ask for my consent to be free in the place" actually, he did not think it proper from you to ask permission for something… he perceived you from the first instant as a free being in tune with nature.

"It’s my way of asking you to go out with me to enjoy the rain," you said, approaching him and extending your hand. 

The thick drops of water hit the roofs, the fountain of the courtyard was about to overflow with water, the surface covered of the leaves that the wind had brought with it. You got rid of your coat and your shoes, went into the fountain and sat in the middle, above the water level, your legs dipping, you picked up the dress on your knees. The fabric was thin, almost transparent now that you were soaked and uncovered. Neuvillette scanned the surroundings, hoping no one would look at you, you were his wife... was he jealous? No, it was a simple sense of duty now that he was a married man...

"Come closer" you said from your position, pointing your finger at the place in front of you. Neuvillette, almost hypnotized by your loud attitude, dragged his feet towards your spot, sitting across from you, likewise, his legs underwater. The familiarity of the rain on the current that had formed under his feet was pleasant, almost satisfactory, so much so that it incited him to move his hands on the surface of the water, forming figures that allowed his hydro vision. You smiled at the small spectacle he displayed for you, admiring the sublime movement of his hands, the way his fingers flexed on the leaves and the drops of water ran down his hands.

You leaned toward him, taking him by surprise, joining your lips with his. He did not turn away, but, on the contrary, he dropped his hand against your neck, drawing you closer to him, tasting the nectar of your lips and your tongue.

"I want something to be clear" you dictated separating yourself from him, "we’ll have children... not because the charlatan Archon wants it for her entertainment, no... we will have children because we both want it, it was clear?".

For all the Archons... those words coming out of your mouth, pure poison, so hostile to the Archon, calling her in a way that he could never, with your face framed by your soaked locks and your lips swollen by the kiss... There was nothing he could want but a woman like you. 

The matter of your affinity for the falling flood, added to your folly of calling the archon such a derogatory name... you were an interesting, exceptional creature whose behavior went beyond his control and knowledge. You were a challenge... his challenge... and his enthusiasm grew in his chest as well as in his pants.

You had both returned to the room in sultry form, between kisses and gasps, getting rid of your clothes on the way. He cornered you on the wall of the entrance, his hand in fist resting above your head, his forehead against yours, the other hand holding your chin, joining his eyes. Neuvillette’s chest rose strongly, seeking air, bewildered by the growing ecstasy, the desire among you that was born. 

Taking you by the waist, he turned you against the wall, your face crashing against the cold marble and your palms resting at your sides. You felt his breathing on your neck, his chest against your back, his hands sliding over your curves, right to your hips, over your panties. You let out a soft moan as you felt the fabric slip under your legs and fall to your ankles.

"Monsieur..." you whispered trembling as the cold pouring through the room brushed your thighs and bare ass. 

"You don’t look as bold as you did a few minutes ago," he whispered... low, almost growling, you swore he was smiling, you sensed it in his voice.

"It’s... just... ah~" you cut the phrase in half when you felt him slip into you, separating your folds, forcing you to suck it. Your hands in fist, your hips rising, trying to avoid its passage inside you, your shoulders gathering at the sensation that flooded your center, your sex. 

"Monsieur~" you moaned, your forehead wet against the marble, your hands scratching the wall looking for something to soothe the burning between your legs, the feeling of its length between your damp walls.

You didn’t think the judge would be so vocal. When he slipped into you, he grunted, so pleasantly your legs seemed to melt. You felt the breath of his groan in your ear, your name coming from his lips.

"So soft" he whispered, resting his hands on yours, his forehead on your shoulder, "so tight..." continued advancing, rising to the bottom, "so mine"...

Neuvillette fucked you against that wall as if he was in heat-and perhaps he was-as if you were going to escape at any time from his grip, though you couldn’t. 

The moans and gasps were embarrassing, thanks to the rain they did not cross the walls, the sound of wet skin crashing during each penetration was burning, lustful. The words that came out of the judge’s mouth every time you girded your limb were a sea of incongruities, just as the phrases that your mouth dropped when he caressed your clitoris, that little lump had become his favorite toy.

The onslaught was strong, your breasts pounding against the wall every time he burst into you, rubbing against your delicate interior, which seemed made for him.

"You take me so well," he groaned, as he continued his beat against you, your breasts rising and falling down the wall. You were trapped between the wall and the monster of pleasure the judge had become.

"I will fill you with my seed, I swear..." he gasped again, his voice raspy, with flashes of hunger and lust.

"Neuvillette~" you let out a high-pitched moan, had touched your point, that felt so fucking good, the way he arched to hit that gummy dot on your cervix. He kept going, and kept going, you didn’t want him to stop. Fuck, he was so good at it, who’d say a gentleman of his countenance could be taking you like an animal in heat.

He kept hitting that delicious spot inside you, stroking your sensitive organ, one, two... three times, you suddenly felt a knot forming in your belly.

"Oh my~... don’t stop Neuvillette~..." you begged, eyes closed, lips separated by groans. The sound of his gasps flooding your eardrum... you both were close…

His onslaught lost rhythm, the intensity was almost unbearable, he came out one last time to get into you, fucking you so hard that you felt your orgasm burst and you let out a scream. He would not take long to reach his climax similarly, unloading all his seed inside you

The bed was warm, you needed it after what happened... Neuvillette lay beside you, caressing your cheek, watching the way you fell asleep. 

He looked out the window, the rain had stopped. He was completely happy... so long ago that he did not feel the fullness he had at the time... 

He placed a soft kiss on your forehead, curling your head in his chest, feeling the warmth of your gentle breathing. He closed his eyes, falling asleep beside you, yearning to tell you one day about his identity... someday…

[definitelynotshouting]

your half of the ransom

inspired by this post and scar's tweets about secret life :] i speedran this just in time for the first eps of the new season to drop!! as always likes and reblogs and especially comments in the tags are appreciated❤️ enjoy!!

Scar wakes to a field of sunflowers.

The sun itself is a swollen yolk bleeding gold at its edges when he blinks, cascading down from the horizon to melt over the earth with indiscriminate fervor. It dips the petals of each field-flower in honey, honing their silhouettes to supple knife-points— even the soil beneath him, packed firm from countless nights of sleep, has burnished to a fine, patinated bronze. In the amber of its rays stray pebbles transmute to pyrite, the subtle scrabble of roots to filigree, and caught in the open mouth of such gaudy resplendence, Scar digs an elbow into the dirt and hauls himself, reluctant, back to his own unsteady feet.

Even at full height the sunflowers still tower, blocking all signs of hearth and home. But the sun (popped, bleeding, all gored-out gold in the upturned belly of the sky) remains his guide— Scar picks his legs up in a faltering stumble to follow it before catching rough fingers against the stalk of a nearby sunflower. He flinches; this early, it's too easy to perceive each stalk as part of a swarm, a yellowed panoptic presence bearing down on the world-weary muscles of his shoulders.

Their seeds will need harvesting soon. Scar hums, a match-strike against unyielding silence, and casts his gaze back to the sun above to orient himself in the direction of his base.

Until they're ready, he has nowhere else to be.

Trader Scar's is too-empty for so comely a morning, a hollowed-out shell long rebuilt and bristling with more wares than he has those to sell them to. But it's a familiar charade— Scar slips into the back with a single sunflower clenched tight in his palm, bruising the petals and scratching against the insides of his fingers. He changes in rapid, efficient motions; last night's poncho is discarded over a nearby chest in exchange for a brighter one, yellow wool lovingly dyed; his hair is released from its tie, combed through, then braided again; the soft leather shoes he'd worn underneath the stars are left to clump by the doorway in favour of far-keener diamond. Worn in but undamaged, the crystal chimes without dents or scratches— there's nothing left to fight here, anymore.

When Scar steps back out to the front, a ghost is waiting patiently for him at the counter.

Or— the ghost of a ghost, if he's being generous. The outline of a shadow, the flicker of a distant mirage. "Oh," Scar says, and the word scrapes like rust from the well of his throat. He'd recognize those wings anywhere. "Well, hello there, Grian."

Grian's filmy outline says nothing. They never do, when the shades appear for a rare visit. The barrier between living and dead remains a clear divide, a gorge through which Scar cannot pass— all that's left between them now are the soft, faded echoes of what was, and what it could have been.

Still, in the year he's spent here, that's never deterred him from a potential sale. Scar props a hip up against the counter, eyeing the flickering shadow and mustering up his best imitation of an enthusiastic smile. "So what brings you out here to my neck of the woods? Looking for something to buy? Some fine goods to trade, perhaps? Man, I don't think I've seen you around in a dog's age. How about some catching up?"

The back of his neck prickles, electric; Grian's shade is a stygian blot in his vision, a fuzz of static that extends its presence from floor to ceiling. His ghost keeps his silence.

Scar tugs his smile wider, flashing two rows of bright, gleaming teeth in Grian's direction until the strain threatens to choke him. "No? Not even a little bone for ol' Scar? Well, tell you what, don't you go standing on su— se— oh, ceremony! Come in, come in! You make yourself at home, you know how I just love a visitor— how about I make us a drink to share and you tell me where in the world you've been, mister."

He doesn't bother waiting for a non-existent reply; instead, Scar swoops down to snag his fingers against the cupboard he'd installed within the counter months ago, fumbling with the latch before throwing its doors wide open with a gust of musty air. Inside, an eclectic mix of quite high-quality wares and some of Scar's own humble belongings tangle, speckled with cobwebs and the first faint stirrings of freshly disturbed dust.

Scar purses his lips, eyeing each item in turn. A nautilus shell here, a few scraps of wood there, some glass bottles, the handle of a ladle he'd cracked over six months back.... Squinting, he thrusts his hand deep into the mess, sweeping the items aside and shuffling new ones into view until— there!

Toward the back lies a dented iron kettle, brittle with disuse. Scar snaps forward, straining out his arm until the tips of two fingers meet the edge of its dusty wooden handle. With a grunt, he flicks it closer, wincing at the shrill scrape of iron on wood as it inches toward him.

SCAR.

It is not a voice. No mere voice can resonate a single word like that in his chest, trembling in his bones and drumming out from the chambers of his very heart. Like a ripple on the still surface of a lake, it rattles through him, scattering each thought to the far corners of his mind and stripping him raw, flaying open his ribs to splay beneath the scorching sun. The yelp that bubbles up to his lips flies past them unbidden, rocketing out with such force that he jolts, and rams his skull straight into the overhanging lip of the counter.

White-on-red sparks, a cherry-hot bolt of fire centered on his crown. "OW! Oh, oh my gosh, I-I— Grian?"

None of the shades haunting him and this server have spoken. They've never spoken. They've never— so why now, when he's made his peace with that—

Scar wets his lips, tongue dry as desert bone, and drags the kettle out of the cupboard with one quick yank. Clutching it to his chest, he rises back up on shaky feet, holding it up as if to ward off an incoming attack. Some shield; its hollow interior reverberates with a screech when he raps his knuckles against it. "Now— now hang on, mister, you can't just— you— oh my gosh, I-I think you just made my heart stop there for a second." A bracing breath. Two. "Y-You can't just shock a man in his own home like that! You...."

Scar trails off. The misty impression hovering on the other side of the counter remains impassive, impersonal— this is not the Grian he knows.

The Grian he knew.

Deep within the static writhe of his shade, the after-image burn of greyed-out eyes begin to squirm to the surface. Scar flicks his gaze back to the kettle with instinctive, long-honed deference, staring hard into the distorted lines of his own reflection.

YOU WON. Once again the words rip something vital in him, boil up through his veins to tear themselves, wet and coppery, on the limp meat of his tongue. Scar risks a peek up, lump hanging heavy in his throat; each syllable comes out as a squeak, threatening to crack the smooth silver of his voice.

"I— yep, I sure did! I sure did, and— thank you very much, for noticing! I, uh, I still don't know how I did that, what with— oh, you know how it is, with, with the, uh, the— friends situation, how that all panned out. Y'know, actually, I wonder if that's wh—"

The eyes blink at him, asynchronous and blank. Hollow. In the heartbeat it takes for them to train back on his own, a soul-wrenching wave of gooseflesh ripples up over Scar's arms.

He whirls himself away so fast his vision spins. "So, uh— tea! You like tea, right Grian?" Without ceremony Scar scrambles to the other side of the room, forcing the counter still between them, every nerve in his body winding tighter, tighter, kinetic energy in a bottle. "How about, um, a—" he rifles through a new cabinet, clumsy with frenzy— "oh, shoot, now where did I put that— I've got some, uh, some dandelion root! Hand roasted by yours truly, of course. Not that anyone else could do it now, but— oh, oh, and look at the lavender, now that's just delicious, you've gotta try it, G, I know you'll just absolutely love it."

Silence. Scar's hand pauses, braced tight on the handle of the cabinet.

"Grian," he says, slow, quiet. Lets the words drift up, shining soap bubbles, to pop against the ceiling. "Why— what are you doing here?"

To his credit, Grian is direct. IT'S TIME.

Without permission, Scar's fingers tighten around the handle of the cabinet. "It's— what? Wait, wait—" He blinks. Does not turn around. "Time for what?"

Silence.

Scar licks his lips, worrying at the split still stinging at the right hand corner. "Time for what, Grian?"

The distinct pall of burning ozone scalds through the air. Tentatively, Scar shoots a glance back down into the kettle, peering at the distinct smudge still smearing the wall behind him. No eyes in its reflection; some of the tension riding in his shoulders loosens, slackens his tendons and begins to uncurl his fingers from the cabinet knob.

Without warning, a wash of ice wisps forward to numb the small of his back. COME HOME, Grian says simply. The words echo in the gap beneath his sternum, drag themselves up each vertebrae in his spine, and Scar freezes stiff, solid.

"This is home," Scar says, blank.

NO.

Some hot ember, banked countless months ago, sparks back to life in the pit of his stomach. "It is," he says, more firmly this time. "It's— that's it. You said it yourself: I won. And I did it fair and square, I'll say. I followed every rule, every task to the— to the nth degree, and... and now I, um." He falters. Grits his teeth until the molars ache. "I get to live with it."

But a sudden chill that has nothing to do with the shade behind him abruptly slips beneath his skin. Hesitantly, still clutching the kettle in one hand like a lifeline, Scar says belatedly: "... Right?"

Despite the sun nearing midday, the temperature around him plummets. NOT ANYMORE.

"Oh," Scar says. The metal surface of the kettles creaks as his second hand joins the first, digging nails into rust and grime. "I— again?"

YES.

"... And what if I don't want to do it again."

He does not phrase it as a question. They both know his answer.

Scar sucks in a sharp shock of air anyway, rattling the kettle against his chest and daubing a blotch of dust over the soft wool of his poncho. "Is—" he bites his lip— "will everyone... be there?"

YES.

Ah. Scar's eyes slip shut of their own accord; behind them, dozens of veins brim over, webs of blood welling up and spilling to slake a thirst so abyssal it could drink and drink for years without satiation.

"... Will you be there?"

For one long, nightmare-eternity, Grian does not reply. Then, a knife between his ribs: YES.

With slow, halting steps, Scar turns. "Okay," he breathes, and drags a hand over his eyes to cloak them both in darkness, and sags back until his skull knocks against the cabinet door with a dull, tender thunk. Each exhale emerges as a series of shaky puffs, damming up his lungs and swallowing all the air in his esophagus. Scar shudders, scrapes his bitten-down nails against iron, and breathes with the roiling of his gut. "... Okay."

When he opens his eyes again, Grian's ghost has vanished.

The spot it occupied is still frigid when he waves a trembling hand through it; Scar inhales, exhales, inhales again. Rinse and repeat, the perfect cycle, the mantra against extraneous thought. Then, solemn and deliberate, he holds the kettle out in front of him, trailing one wandering finger over its dents and bruises, tracing the paths between the known and the new.

"Guess I'll see you there," he tells it, and lifts its grubby handle up in absent toast.

High above, the bleeding sun strikes noon at last. Scar does not harvest the sunflowers.

[nyctoaerah]

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐎𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄

“𝐒𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐘”

╰┈➤𝐒𝐘𝐏𝐍𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐒: Where Suguru Geto ends up becoming enamored with Gojo’s Non-sorcerer sister to the point of obsession.

╰┈➤𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Abuse, Mentions Of whipping.

╰┈➤𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: Yandere! Suguru Geto x Fem! Gojo’s Sister! Non-sorcerer! Reader ╰┈➤𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

╰┈➤𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

•───夏油傑───•

THE GENTLE RAYS of the sun filtered through the wide-open windows of the room of the strongest sorcerer; Gojo Satoru. 

[Name], Gojo’s sister, felt the gentle kiss of the sun beams against her soft and [S/c] complexion as she gazed on the window. The sunlight illuminated the sky, casting its vibrant glow all around, while the cheerful melodies of chirping birds echoed in the distance.

Mornings in Japan held a serene and tranquil atmosphere, a fact that [Name] would have readily acknowledged and embraced without any hesitation, if it weren’t for her asshole of a family.

[Name] felt her jaw tighten and her [E/c] eyes narrowed at the mere memory of her stupid family before she blinked suddenly when she saw a butterfly land on satoru’s windowpane.

As she observed the butterfly alight on Satoru’s window, her eyebrows knitted together in confusion. This particular butterfly appeared unusually large compared to the typical ones she had seen before that would mostly be on their garden.  its wings displayed a gradient of ebony and ivory hues.

The upper part of its wings exhibited a deep, velvety black, while the lower section faded into a lighter, softer shade. her lips slightly parted as a hint of yellow pigment started to spread across the previously pristine white patches on the butterfly's wings and the butterfly abruptly fluttered away, although she could have sworn that she perceived a peculiar trickle of yellow, as if the fragile creature had bled before her very eyes.

From what she had read, insects blood were mostly clear colored, yellowish, or greenish. So perhaps, the butterfly had bled and she couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps that was a sign.

‘That’s weird’, she thought.

“What was that?” [Name] inquired with astonishment, turning to face Satoru, seeking an explanation for the enigmatic occurrence. 

“Hemolymph,” Satoru responded nonchalantly, causing her to tilt her head inquisitively. 

“What the hell is a hemelonymp?” she inquired, her words a bit slurred , unable to pronounce the word properly, and her curiosity piqued by this unfamiliar term. 

 “It’s Hemolymph.”

Satoru corrected.

“Hemonymph?”

“No. Hemolymph.”

“Hemolymph is a fluid that serves as an equivalent to blood,” Satoru elucidated, succinctly summarizing the essence of hemolymph, but leaving her with a desire to comprehend its intricacies.

“That butterfly actually reminds me of you, to be  honest.”

Satoru attentively tended to the small droplets of blood that had emerged from the slit on her lip, which was now swollen and adorned with painful bruises. He dabbed a soft tissue against the injured area, gently blotting away the traces of crimson liquid, leaving no remnant behind.

“All better now?” His voice was as gentle as the breeze brushing past the leaves, and when his fingers swept against her cheeks, it was with the softness of a feather. She nodded, unable to speak, her exhaustion weighing down on her like a lead balloon. 

“I suppose,” she mumbled, unsure of how to proceed. She search for the right words, hesitating for a moment before allowing het eyes to flit over to the liquid on satoru's windowpane before clearing her throat.

“But about your previous statement,” she began, 

Satoru tilts his head ever so curiously, waiting for her answer.

“Yes?” He replied.

Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?" She asked, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to steady herself, refusing to shift until Satoru had finished wiping the blood from her lip.

Upon completing his task, Satoru rose from his kneeling position and disposed of the stained tissue.

“Is it because it bled, like me?” she repeated, the words soft and introspective, her gaze drifting upward to the ceiling as she inhaled sharply.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation.

“Mhm. Partially, yes, but, you're pretty just like that insect.” he replied,

She couldn't help but let out a small, resigned sigh. Of course, Satoru would see beauty in her; she was his precious sister after all. Yet deep down, she knew that his perception of her stood in stark contrast to the world’s view, On satoru’s eyes, she was the epitome of beauty, but on other people’s eyes? Not even close.

He was ethereal, an angel, a being so close to being a data, while she’s a mere shadow in his radiant presence.

It made her lips purse and satoru noticed.

Jealousy had bubbled in her again, she noted.

“Is something troubling you?” Satoru's voice broke through your reverie. She shook her head, a faint smile gracing her lips as she pushed aside the swarm of negative thoughts threatening to engulf her.

“No, just thinking ‘bout how lucky i am to have you.” she whispered.

Satoru blinked as he didn’t heard her words. “What was that?” his voice held a note of curiosity.

“Don’t worry about it, S’ nothing,” she replied softly, a gentle hum escaping her lips.

“But enough of that, and to your previous statement...”

“Is it because the butterfly was bleeding, just like me?” She asked once satoru is finished and her eyes followed Satoru as he disposed of the tissue stained with her blood.

Satoru nodded, acknowledging her observation. “Partially, yes, but like, you’re pretty just like that insect.” he replied, 

Her gaze averted as she responded solemnly while shaking her head.

“I ain’t like that butterfly though, i mean, i don’t have freedom.”

Expressing her deep frustration, she acknowledged the various constraints that were hindering her progress. Letting out a sigh filled with exasperation, she placed her hand gently on her forehead, as if trying to alleviate the weight of her burdens. In the midst of her contemplation, she found herself questioning whether her circumstances would be different if she possessed the six eyes and limitless, just like her brother.

“Right,” satoru mumbles bitterly.

“Hey, ‘toru.. maybe if i’m not a non-sorcerer and i possess the six eyes and limitless like you, would they grant me freedom?.. and maybe... even love me?” [Name] inquired, observing how Satoru seemed to receive favoritism from their family.

“would they finally see me? Accept me? Love me? Give me freedom?”

her words hung heavy in the air as she observed the favoritism Satoru received from your family.

Satoru’s response was nonchalant, almost indifferent, as if the concept of love was foreign to him.

“They don't love me,” he stated matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of emotion.

“Besides, Why would you want their love when they're nothing but assholes?”  

Satoru’s question sliced through the air, his hand gently cupping her cheek in a gesture that felt more like a stress-induced grip than a tender caress. Annoyance flickered in her eyes at his touch, a silent protest against his dismissive words.

He persisted in compressing her cheeks with his fingers until she slapped his hand, causing him to burst into laughter. As she gingerly massaged her cheeks, a disapproving expression formed on her face.  

“Stop laughing. S’not funny.”  she huffed, annoyed, though, she concurred with Satoru’s observation that they were unquestionably horrible people, as they consistently subjected both her and Satoru to their abusive behavior.

“Huh, whatever.” satoru rolled his eyes, lips forming into a pout as he playfully glares at [Name].

“Killjoy,” He mumbled.

“Fuck off.” [Name] replied curtly as he laughed at her grumpiness.

“Don’t you want to be loved,” Satoru whispers, planting a tender kiss on her forehead. She responded with an exaggerated eye roll, the corners of her lips lifting into a smirk.

“Maybe i don’t.” she quipped.

“Liar.” He giggles.

“But anywayyy let's get back to our discussion,” Satoru continues, reclining leisurely.

“You don't need anyone else, just me. You don't need those suck up bitches.”

Her mood instantly fell.

A scoff escapes her lips involuntarily. He wasn't wrong. Why seek the fleeting affections of others when she has him by her side? Why yearn for external love when she has a flawless brother who cherishes and supports her unconditionally?

“Suppose that you’re right, they’re nothing but assholes.” she conceded, her voice laced with annoyance.  

“True, True.” Satoru hums, before his eyes narrowed.

“You know.. if you asked me to, I would’ve killed them all for you.” The intensity of his loyalty was evident in his voice as he too, harbored a deep dislike towards them; His own family, excluding [Name], ofcourse.

To him, they were simply a group of despicable assholes who failed to treat him as a child should be treated. Instead of showering him with affection and care, they regarded him as a precious gem—not in the loving way, but rather, they treated him like a possession to be controlled and manipulated.

Their motives behind their actions were solely driven because he possessed the coveted six eyes technique and the limitless technique, which enabled them to flaunt him as a trophy rather than genuinely loving him.

However, Satoru’s adored sister; [Name], stood out from the rest. Their relationship was exceptional, as she treated him with genuine affection and treated him as an ordinary human being—and not see him as if he was a deity.

The love she demonstrated towards him was reciprocated wholeheartedly, further strengthening their bond. Consequently, he developed an instinctual need to protect her; [Name] was the only person who had truly shown him what love meant, the person who healed his inner child.

Satoru also possessed a deep understanding of the underlying cause behind the mistreatment experienced by [Name]. The core reason was rooted in her identity as a non-sorcerer amidst a lineage of esteemed and influential sorcerers. Incapable of perceiving curses and  not having the ability to interact with them. Thus she became a target of their cruelty.

She became a living embodiment of shame for the Gojo clan, which motivated their abusive behavior towards her. Despite being aware of this, Satoru remained indifferent to such prejudices. He saw the situation as profoundly unjust, harboring a sincere desire for [Name] to receive affection and tenderness instead.

The mistreatment she endured did nothing but deepen his conviction. And their control over her was so extreme that she wasn’t even allowed to step foot outside her own home, satoru has to sneak hed out whenever he could. And it was all because the Gojo clan, couldn’t bear the thought of being embarrassed or shamed by the revelation that their esteemed bloodline of ‘all sorcerers’ also consisted of a non-sorcerer. This overprotectiveness towards their reputation had always existed.

They were fucking lunatics that is willing to kill and abuse a child just for the sake of their damn reputation.

The initial motive for Satoru's intention to eliminate the gojo clan was primarily due to this particular reason. Satoru proceeded to fix his gaze upon [Name], and he gently ruffled [Name]’s words.

“But seriously, i’ll kill them.”

“Just say the word, [Name]. and nii-chan will kill them all.

With a hint of amusement, she snorted.

“If you did that, you would become the new disgrace of our clan.”

Despite being labeled as the black sheep and outcast among their clan members, [Name] found it rather amusing that Satoru would jeopardize his reputation for her sake. However, deep down, she was aware that Satoru possessed an effortless ability to resolve any situation. He was the strongest after all.

“Wouldn't want you to take the title i worked so hard to earn.”

[Name] added sarcastically, displaying a hint of amusement. 

Satoru rolled his eyes and let out a snort.

“Why would I be considered a disgrace to the family when there won't be any family left once I kill them all?” He countered, a mischievous grin creeping onto his face. The idea of wiping out their entire clan appeared to be a lighthearted topic for him, even though the gravity of such a deed was not lost on either of them.  

[Name] sighed irritably and rolled her eyes.

“Whatever..” She muttered a half-hearted response, her lips forming a small amused smile as she glanced at Satoru. Despite her annoyance, she couldn’t help but feel a bit amused by his persistent optimism. 

“Anywayyy”

Satoru began.

“Let’s go out and grab something to eat outside.” He intertwined his fingers, attempting to divert the conversation. However, [Name] furrowed her brows and shifted her gaze away, visibly troubled.

“You do realize that I'm forbidden from leaving, right?” she said with a weary sigh, her frustration mounting. But Satoru simply shrugged off her concerns. 

“Who the fuck cares about those ridiculous rules?” Satoru grumbled indignantly, clasping her forearm gently.

“Definitely me.”

[Name] retorted as she shot him a scolding look, trying to free her arm from his grasp. Although she yearned to venture outside with her brother, the fear of punishment held her back. After all, she dreaded a repeat of the painful whipping she had endured just two weeks prior, as punishment for accidentally spilling scalding hot tea on her mother. the faint red marks of it still lingered on her back. Yet, she had never confided in Satoru about it, fearing his anger.

“No, thank you. I'd rather not,” she mumbled softly, her voice filled with reluctance. Satoru’s eyes narrowed, a hint of annoyance evident on his face.

“Nah uh, you listen to your nii-chan, girl.” Satoru pressed his lips on a line as he looked at hed.

“We’re goin’ outside. You look pale as hell, as if you haven't basked in sunlight for ages,”

•───夏油傑───•

Satoru had actually fucking dragged his sister out.

And left her alone on the fucking park to buy food, and now, [Name] was sitting alone on a park bench while patiently (maybe not) waiting for satoru to come back.

[Name]’s hair danced in the gentle breeze as she settled onto a park bench, cherishing this rare moment of solitude. Being confined indoors for such a prolonged period had taken its toll on her. Satoru, aware of this, would often aid her in secretly venturing outside, allowing her to at least bask in some fresh air.

As she sat alone, she let out a soft sigh while immersing herself in the melodious symphony of birds chirping. 

Satoru excused himself momentarily, venturing off to fetch food, leaving [Name] alone in the park. Despite his assurance of a speedy return, anxiety gnawed at her insides. After all, she was in the midst of the public eye, vulnerable to discovery by her own clan members. With bated breath, she patiently awaited Satoru’s arrival, she closed her eyes for a moment before reopening them.

She let out a quiet gasp and visibly flinched as a man suddenly sat on the bench beside her. Her heart thumped within her chest, reverberating almost deafeningly in her ears. Her hands trembled slightly and became clammy, but she dare not move until Satoru returned. The thought of venturing away from her spot only increased the risk of losing her way or being spotted by a member of the Gojo clan. 

To create distance between herself and the stranger, [Name] discreetly scooted away, distancing herself as much as possible. She studied him intently, her gaze sweeping from head to toe, absorbing every intricate detail of his appearance. His jet-black hair was tied up neatly. It was impossible to miss the bangs that gently brushed and covered his left eye partially, swaying along with the wind. Notably, he donned a similar uniform to Satoru, although with subtle differences such as the baggy pants in contrast to Satoru's fitted attire.

As she observed him, a certain assumption formed in her mind: he too must be a sorcerer, just like Satoru.

The moment the man let out a cough, an unanticipated reaction ignited within her, causing her to flinch and almost leap out of her seat. The visible disgust etched on his face indicated that he had consumed something repulsive, leading [Name] to assume that he had indeed eaten something disgusting.

[Name] felt a lump in her throat. Hed hand twitched, wanting to extend aid to the man in need. However, memories of Satoru's teachings echoed in her mind, warning her to not talk with strangers.

Yet, this man appeared to be a sorcerer and there was a possibility that Satoru might be acquainted with him, considering they attended the same school.

‘Does satoru knows this dude?’ she pondered.

Engulfed in internal conflict, she weighed the pros and cons of assisting him, before deciding to finally help him.

‘Ew..’

She cringed a little as she watched the man next to her suddenly regurgitate his stomach contents onto the floor, the man reached out to clutch his throat in discomfort, his voice barely audible as he uttered words akin to expressing his disgust.

[Name] wrestled with the internal conflict of whether she should engage in a conversation with him, torn between her desire to offer some solace and her uncertainty.

Taking to heart the advice she had received, which emphasized the importance of aiding others in their time of need, she pondered on how she could ease his discomfort.

Suddenly, a notion sprang to mind—she could offer him candy, as it might help alleviate the lingering taste of his stomach acid that clung to the recesses of his mouth.

Taking a handful of candies that she habitually kept in her pockets, she hesitantly tapped the man’s shoulder, hoping to offer him some solace. In a hesitant tone, she uttered,

“Excuse me, sir.”

[Name] offered him an awkward smile.

The man turned his gaze towards her, encompassing her in his piercing stare, momentarily taking her breath away. The twinkle of unease shimmered within her throat as he forced a smile whilst rubbing his throat, further validating her suspicion that he had indeed consumed something vile.

“Hello there, can I be of any assistance?” he kindly inquired, his smile was forced, though, [Name] noted. 

“I noticed that you just vomited... and your esophagus were probably burning from the corrosive stomach acid that accompanied your vomiting.” she  observed.

He observed her with a slightly confused look, realizing that her choice of words was rather unusual. An idiosyncrasy perhaps? After all, she was expressing it in a manner more suited to scientific discourse, something not commonly done by regular individuals. 

With an effort to disregard the repulsive scene of his vomit on the floor, he raised his head to meet her eyes. 

“Well... It definitely causes a burning sensation,” he said, letting out a small chuckle.  

“Ah.. but still, I'm sorry that you have to see that. I didn’t noticed that someone is here...” he admitted, his hand gently massaging the back of his neck.

Expressing his distaste, he remarked with a slight hint of disgust on his face,

“I just recently consumed something... disgusting.”

He added, the thing he consumed happened to be a special grade curse, and it definitely tasted like shit, it was so disgusting to the point that he vomited in the end.

“that explains why you vomited then,” she mumbled. “Yeah,” he replied awkwardly.

[Name] extended her palms towards him, revealing a collection of candies neatly stored in a shiny golden plastic container.

“These are mint candies, sir. You can have them,” she offered, flashing a warm smile at him.

“This’ll help you get rid of the shitty taste of whatever you had eaten.”

In response, he blinked and mustered an awkward smile.

“I’ll have to refuse, but thank you for the offer”

The thought of accepting the candies crossed his mind as a potential remedy for the repulsive aftertaste of the curse he had inadvertently consumed earlier. However, he hesitated, not wanting to impose too much on this unfamiliar girl. What if the candies were poisoned or had some ulterior motive behind them? Nevertheless, he couldn't deny the striking resemblance she bore to Satoru, albeit in a somewhat vague manner.

“I insist, sir please take it.” she asserted.

“No, really, I'm alright,” he politely declined again, accompanied by a smile, shaking his head to emphasize his refusal.

“Please.. I insist sir, please accept this,” she pleaded with a concerned expression, momentarily forgetting Satoru's advice to never talk to strangers.

He observed [Name]’s face and contemplated quietly, recognizing that perhaps it wouldn't be too terrible to accept her offering. A small smile formed on his lips as he spoke to himself. 

“Alright, I suppose I can give it a try,” he replied, his voice barely audible. He accepted the candies from her outstretched hands, feeling a bit awkward in his actions. As he took the treats, a bright smile radiated from her face.

“I’m Gojo [Name],” 

he looked at her with curiosity. Judging by her surname, she must be a member of the Gojo clan, he speculated.

In response, he introduced himself, “Geto Suguru.”

Now Suguru understood why Satoru resembled the girl—they must be related somehow. The thought crossed his mind to inquire if she was acquainted with Satoru, a highly probable assumption, but he dismissed the idea. However, suguru couldn't help but feel perplexed by one thing—why was she a non-sorcerer despite her clan's background?  

“It’s nice to meet you, Geto-san.” she smiled at him.

“Likewise, Gojo-san” he replied, a small smile curling at his lips.

An awkward silence then filled the air.

Feeling awkward, Suguru gingerly unwrapped the candy and placed it onto his tongue. The taste was delicately sweet and cool at the same time, and his mouth gradually began to cool as he continued to savor the candy. With each swirl around his mouth, the repugnant taste of the curse and his stomach acid started to dissipate.  

Yet, his gaze suddenly became focused as he noticed a concealed curse lurking on a nearby tree. Intriguingly, she followed his line of sight and directed her confused gaze towards him. Tilting her head slightly, she inquired,

“What are you looking at, Geto-san?”

“Nothing..” Suguru replied. After all, he knows that she, being a non-sorcerer with no curse energy, was unable to perceive curses like he could. He casted a quick glance at her before he directed his attention back to the tree. However, before suguru had the chance to utter a word, [Name] preemptively spoke, causing him to pause.

“Oh, I see you found a curse up there then.”

•───夏油傑───•

Extra:

•Gojo got lost and was panicking

•Gojo doesn't know that [Name] can see curses

•Geto thinks that [Name] is pretty

•The candy [Name] gave Geto is her homemade candy.

•Gojo was actually planning on taking [Name] to jujutsu high with him and just give her a cursed tool to see curses.

•They're still students in here.

•Gojo is a platonic yandere

Support me on wattpad?🥺

[jezabelle9299]

Halloween S.R x Fem!Reader

Overture- You and Spencer are the only ones wearing costumes in the bureau this Halloween, he just got called in for a case, and you're dropping some things off for your roommate (Y/R/N). I want it to be fall so bad, it's 90 degrees where I live and my car does not have A/C. Also reader is a weeping angel from doctor who, which is essentially a creature that while it is being perceived by anyone looks like a statue (Specifically of an angel usually), very freaky, but reader's costume is a little more cutesy. (They're also only in the second iteration of the show, but as far as I'm concerned Spencer and reader are still matching.)

C-Ws- It's all fluff, there's a kiss? Teasing, reader is referred to as a girl, wears makeup, heels, dresses, etc, holding hands, they're like in love almost immediately.

Your roommate forgot the paperwork she needed. Again. This time she called you while you were on your way out the door to your halloween plans, begging you for a stack of files she definitely was not supposed to take home, that were nevertheless on your dining room table. This was far from the first time she’d asked you to bring her something, but it was the first time she said she wouldn’t meet you in the lobby or the coffee shop around the block. She was, in her words, “Chained to her desk”. So she required you to actually check in with security, and bring her files to her desk. The lovely kicker being that you were already in full costume.

She shut down your contesting with the promise of making her amazing pumpkin bread when she got home.So you swallowed your ego as you took one last look in the mirror. Your costume was cute, verging on sexy, but dorky enough to keep it from fully reaching that point. You were a weeping angel from Doctor Who. You were in a short gray dress with a stone pattern, gray tights with accompanying high heels, and gray lace gloves with don’t blink embroidered on them. The look was completed with some small angel wings and makeup that was smokey enough to tow the line between sexy and spooky. 

You walked into the building files in hand, up to the security desk. After picking up your visitor pass, you made your way to the elevators. Safely alone in the silver box, the doors started to close. That is, until someone turns on their side to slide through them. He’s exhausted, after clearly running through the lobby somehow not spilling the coffee in his hand. He was also in costume, giving you huge relief after passing all of the serious suit-clad agents in the lobby.

You smiled at his choice in costume, he was dressed as the 4th doctor, making your costumes kind of match. The doors closed once again and you stood side by side in silence. He was looking at you, almost like he was trying to figure out what you were. You expected this of course, but he clearly watched the show. Until he cleared his throat as you were approaching the 2nd floor. 

“I’m sorry-Hi-sorry I just, I have to ask. Are you… a weeping angel? You smiled at that. He did get it. But you pushed down some of your excitement to make an attempt at a cool headed response.

“I am! I’ll be very disappointed if that was an odd pickup line and not a guess.” His eyes got as big as saucers, and he put his hands out like he was trying to stop a runaway train, still clutching a coffee cup in his right hand, but doing the motion all the same. 

“No!-That’s-It was a guess. It’s a great costume.” 

“Thank you, I like yours too, a doctor dressed as the doctor.” You said that referencing the ID tag hanging from his bag, but he looked.. Skeptical? 

“How did you know I was a doctor?” He was just too cute. He worked at the FBI and couldn’t seem to gather that his name tag was giving him away? You just gave a small giggle and pointed to the plastic. When he looked down confused, he came back up embarrassed. Then the elevator did a final chime as the doors opened to the 5th floor.

“I guess on that note, this is my stop. Will I see you around the building?” He looked hopeful in a way that made you wish the elevator hadn’t stopped just so you could spend a few more minutes with him. That is, until you realized you also needed to get off at this floor. 

“Actually, could you help me? I’m supposed to drop some stuff off for my roommate, but I don’t know where her desk is. It's somewhere on this floor.” 

“Definitely-sure, what’s her name I can-” He was cut off by a man who was the epitome of the phrase ‘Tall, dark, and handsome.’ Not your type, but very classically handsome.

“Well, well, well, pretty boy who did you bring to work?” He reached his hand out to you, but you were busy with some extreme embarrassment, feeling even more out of place than you had in the lobby. The man next to you was’t better, his face reading as exhausted and humiliated. You eventually pulled your mouth shut where it was agape and offered your hand back to him. 

“Im Y/N, I'm actually just dropping some things off for my roommate, Y/R/N. Dr.Reid and I only met in the elevator, just similar tastes in costumes I guess!” Now the embarrassment that was once dawning on your face, dawned on him as he realized his error.

“Apologies for the presumption, I’m Derek Morgan, I work with Spencer.” 

You just couldn’t stop the words that came out next. “No worries, I should be so lucky to accompany Dr.Reid.” Derek raised his eyebrows in a small expression of shock and clapped a now beet red Spencer on the shoulder. 

“Well it was lovely to meet you Y/N, I would love to leave you two to it believe me but we’ve got a case.” You forced yourself to look Spencer in the eye again. 

“It was nice to meet you Derek and you too Dr. Reid.” Derek gave you a smile and a nod as he turned back to head up a small staircase, but Dr. Reid didn’t follow him. 

“You can call me Spencer, Dr. Reid is too formal for someone wearing this silly of a costume.” 

“I happen to like your costume, Spencer. And as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, your boss is staring at us.” you gestured to the dark haired stern man in a suit looking down at you from the door to the conference room. 

“Happy Halloween Spencer, I hope I’ll see you around.” You turned back towards the clusters of desks and started looking for the one your roommate was sitting in. It didn’t take long to find her despite the hustle and bustle still crowding the floor at this late hour. When you spotted her she was fixated on even more paperwork, not noticing you until you approached her desk. 

“Thank you so much, you are my savior. I promise that pumpkin bread is coming your way.” You laughed at the unnecessary seriousness with which she said that. 

“Thank you, and it’s no biggie since I was going out anyway. But I do need to ask you something. Spencer– Dr. Reid, is he single?”

“Wow, you’ve been here 5 minutes and you’ve already found your dork match. I saw him walking with Hotch a second ago, you’re even matching!” She was keeled over and cackling, when you stomped your heeled foot to get her to stop and answer your question. She pretended to wipe tears of laughter from her eyes just to rub salt in the wound. 

“Ok, ok, yes he’s single as far as I know, but I’m not setting you up. If you’d like to do something about your freaky little crush, you can leave a note on his desk.” She pointed to a neatly kept desk, piled high with books on every subject. 

“They have a case, so he’ll probably be out of town for a few days, but he might see it before they leave. No go on, do, and get out of here. I do still have a job to do, and no offense, but you’re kind of making me look ridiculous by association.” She tossed a notepad with a purple pen clipped to it towards you. You grumbled a quick thanks, still annoyed by the dig at your costume. But you jotted down a quick note, hopeful he’d see it sooner rather than later,, because it would be all the more humiliating if he’d forgotten about you before he saw it. 

Spencer, 

I only got to talk to you for a few minutes but I’d like to get to know you more in a place with less costumes and government agents watching over us. Call me if you’d like to go out sometime ♥️ 

(XXX)-XXX-XXXX

You drew a small pair of angel wings as a signature, then left it on his desk on your way back to the elevators. 

When Spencer left the round table, with only 30 minutes before he needed to be on the plane he made a beeline to Y/R/N’s desk approaching cautiously with a small wave. 

“Hi– Sorry to bother you, but I was talking to your roommate earlier, and I was wondering–” She cut him off, putting her hand up to stop him in his tracks. 

“I’ll tell you what I told Y/N. I’m not getting involved in this cute freaky little thing you guys have going on. Check your desk, go on your case, thank me later.” He turned back towards his desk, made it about two steps before turning back. This time with a hopeful look on his face.

“What you told her? Did she– Did she ask about me?” Y/R/N just rolled her eyes and refocused on her paperwork. 

“Goodbye Dr.Reid.” She left no room for argument, so he turned back to his desk, later finding your note neatly placed on top of some files. He read it twice, just to make sure he wasn’t daydreaming. He felt like he was in a high school movie, with the prettiest girl passing him a note in class. He was just getting lost in that train of thought, when he saw the rest of the team heading for the elevator bank, ready for the case. He’d gotten so distracted mooning over your note, he’d run out of time to change. He’d have to make his best attempt to get into his regular clothes in the small airplane bathroom.

It was a fast case, a spree killer in Georgia they were able to catch by sunrise the next day. He’d re-read your note maybe 20 times in less than 12 hours, even though he remembered every word, garnering significantly more teasing from Derek, along with the rest of the team after he caught them up. He could tell they were all happy for him though, despite the teasing. 

When they landed back in Quantico he swiftly deboarded the plane, and headed home paperwork in hand, to be done later. He’d typically do it at his desk, but he wanted to call you with minimal chance for interruption.

It was barely 6am. It was your day off, and your phone was still ringing. Normally you’d check and see if you could ignore it, but you couldn’t even gather the energy to look before answering. Luckily you didn’t drink last night, so you weren’t hungover, but even without that added layer of discomfort you were not in the mood to be up and talking to people. So you grumbled a dreary hello into the line, eyes still closed. 

“Hey– Hi, I’m sorry, I woke you up.I just– we just got back from that case and I wanted to know if you wanted to..go out? Tonight? If you don’t have other plans, that is.” You perked up at the sound of his voice, and fully shot up in your bed when he asked you out. You weren’t tired anymore. 

“I’d love to! I actually have tickets to this  re-showing of the original Frankenstein, if you'd like to go with me?” You could hear a shaky exhale coming from his side of the line. 

“That sounds great! What time should I pick you up?”

“8 o’clock would be perfect.”

“Awesome–I’ll uh, I’ll see you then.” 

“Ok, bye Spencer. Now go get some rest? I’m assuming you haven’t slept yet?” You were sure he could hear the smile in your voice. 

“You would be correct. I’ll do that, and I’ll see you tonight?” You said your goodbyes, hung up, and squealed into your pillows. You were up for good now, but luckily that gave you more time to plan. You wandered to the kitchen to make your roommate some of the expensive coffee you usually saved for special occasions as a bribe for her to break her silence about Spencer. She told you he was a literal genius, a fact that did not help your nervousness. She also told you he was a behavioral analyst, that he didn’t like touch, and that he was from Vegas. That was all she’d tell you before heading out the door a half hour early, while denying any further questions. 

Then you threw on some sweats, removed the last bit of makeup that was clinging on from the night before and headed out the door. You got another coffee, before picking up some of the things you needed around the house, in addition to things that would help you feel ready for your date. You’d gone on a few, but not enough to feel like you knew what to expect, and you were usually focused on making sure the person you were out with didn’t think you were dorky or weird, but that was kind of out the window already. 

You were already supposed to go to lunch with some of your friends, so you chose to ask their advice. They were the only people you could really trust with that sort of thing, but that didn’t stop you from immediately looking up every trashy advice column you could find online, most of which were filled with categorically horrible advice, but it was a great way to kill time. 

Once it was all said and done, you decided to start getting ready 3 hours early, taking a long shower, spending almost a half hour getting your eyeliner to be perfectly even, instead of the sort-of even you usually settled for. You threw on a comfortable skirt, with a form fitting sweater and some matching boots to keep you warm in the cold theater. Ultimately you were glad you got ready early, as it was still 10 till 8 when Spencer was knocking on your door. He looked petrified. In a good way?

“Wow– you look, wow. I’m–uh sorry I’m so early. I was just–really excited for this.” You smiled, and gave yourself a little internal high five that you picked the right outfit. 

“It’s ok, I’m really excited too.” Then you gave yourself a second to really look at him, no costumes this time. His hair was different–good different. He was dressed really nice too, in a polka dot button up, with a purple sweater vest, and a black tie tucked into it crooked. At first he was staring back at you, studying you as you were him, until some insecurity crept onto both of your faces at the close observation. You straightened your posture as much as you could, and asked if he was ready. When he gave a shaky exhale and a resounding yes, he walked you from your apartment door with a hesitant, almost hovering touch on your lower back before arriving at his car, only removing his hand as he opened the door for you. 

He played classical music, and you talked about your days, his case, and your Halloween plans from the previous evening. When you arrived at the theater his hand once again found your lower back, until you got in the concessions line, when he dropped it to brush your wrist before looking to your face. 

“Is this…alright?” He moved closer to clasp your hands together as you smiled up at him. 

“It’s more than ok, although I am kind of surprised.” You maintained your smile so he would know it wasn’t nervousness or reluctance, but confusion painted his face at the perceived contradiction. 

“Y/R/N said that you weren’t a big fan of touch with people you don’t know very well.” 

“She said that?”

Oh. I guess that’s not something someone would say out of the blue. 

“Yeah I sort of–asked about you. Is that too weird?” He blushed at that and a little of your anxiety dissipated. 

“I don’t think it’s weird, I tried to ask her about you but she sent me away so I could find your note. Which was definitely better, by the way.” The idea of him liking your note sent you into the stratosphere. 

“She wouldn’t tell me anything about you either at first, which is why I wrote the note. Which I’m glad you liked, I was worried it was too dorky. But I got her to tell me a little bit about you by bribing her with coffee this morning.” He laughed a little at that, and you realized how easy it was with him. I mean not that you were particularly experienced, but you were certain they weren’t usually this natural. You were pulled from spiraling into that train of thought when you realized there was only one person ahead of you in line, and Spencer spoke. 

“What would you like? I think they have most of the regular snack and candy things, but they might have real food if you’re hungry. I’ve never actually been to this theater before, I didn’t know they did re-showings here.”

“Me neither, I only found out about this because I saw something for it online. But a cherry coke would be great. And if you’re sure you don’t mind my germs we could share some popcorn?” 

“Popcorn sounds great.” And without a second thought he kissed your hands where they were laced together. He was just about to horrifiedly ask you if he took it too far, when you giggled and smiled like there was nowhere else you’d rather be, and no one else you’d rather be with. Truthfully there wasn’t.

You got your concessions from the apathetic teenager behind the counter, and quickly found your seats in the back of the theater. You’d gotten there well before the movie started, so Spencer told you all of the fun facts he could think of. And as shocked as you were that he knew them, he was even more surprised he’d found someone to listen to them. 

After sitting in one spot for so long, you were starting to feel the exhaustion from this morning creep back in. Emboldened by the fact your hands were still clasped, you decided to lay your head against his arm. His button-up was surprisingly soft and you had to fight the urge to fully rest the side of your face on him, in an effort to not get makeup on his mostly-white shirt. He relaxed into your touch immediately, giving you the validation you needed that it was ok. 

When you left the theater, and climbed into his car once again, you talked, but the conversation was decidedly less nervous. You talked about your friends, your job, and your family, and he talked about the coworkers he loved as family. When you arrived back at home he walked you to the door. Had it been anyone else you would have assumed that was a ploy to stay the night, but you felt like you’d known Spencer much longer than you had, and were certain that was not why. So you let him, and when you reached the door, his hand finding yours once again, he pulled you in for the best first kiss. 

His lips were a little bit chapped, you’d seen him biting his inner lip a few times when he got especially bashful, so you kind of expected it, but his hands found your face, and his touch was so reassuring it melted all of your nerves away. When he pulled away, you were both beet red and smiling. 

“Can I see you again tomorrow?” 

“I’d like that, as long as you don’t have to go away for work.” You were on cloud nine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up for a second date to happen tomorrow, his work schedule was unpredictable, and you wanted to be as prepared for that as possible.

“Dear god, I hope not. Tomorrow already feels far away. I’ll make reservations and I’ll take you to dinner? When would be an alright time to pick you up?” You wouldn’t usually like someone offering to drive you twice in a row, but Spencer didn’t even sound like he was offering, it was just a given. 

“I get off work at 6, so I could be ready at 7?” 

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Goodnight Y/N” And with that he placed another kiss on your hand as you said goodnight, before he let go, and headed back to the parking lot. 

[lexsssu]

Inhuman (Adrian Tepes | Alucard)

TAGS: Alucard/Dragoness!reader, alternate universe, pining, sex pollen, morning after, breeding, impregnation, smut, oneshot Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

Darkness is something many feared for it brought about horrors both real and imaginary to life. The cover of night hid that which screeched at the light of day and yet there is a certain stillness and calm found in the dark.

Adrian never felt that the dark was something to be afraid of, but rather a hidden peace and tranquility when one decides to walk about during the twilight hours.

All is still until a flash of bright light illuminated the landscape, revealing everything which once hid within the blanket of night for barely a second before gradually fading away.

Normally, the dhampir would have chalked it up as yet another one of nature’s great mysteries before trying to see for himself what caused it. Blame his loving parents who naturally nurtured his inquisitive nature.

However, before he could even step another foot forward he saw something falling from the sky and as it got closer to the ground, his eyes perceived an unmistakably human form.

He didn’t need to think for another second as his body rocketed upwards in a great leap, lean yet toned arms grasping the surprisingly soft and tiny figure. As the air whipped around him during his descent, he took his first good look as to who or what he decided to save in the first place.

The blonde’s eyes widened, breath hitching in his throat as he beheld what could only be an angel, a being of pure light within his embrace.

Your silken ivory hair crowns your head and drapes over your heart-shaped face gracefully, petal-like lips which gleamed with a soft pink sheen, eyelashes like lush crescents that seem to teasingly hide what he could only imagine to be the most beautiful jeweled orbs in the world, and a spattering of silvery-white scales that travel from said cheeks down to your neck and the rest of your body hidden beneath your bodice.

You are clearly inhuman.

And yet, never has Adrian felt more human than he did right now especially as your eyes flutter open and meet with his own mesmerized pair.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“...make sure to grind them thoroughly, my dear. They have to be a fine paste before we can proceed with the next step”

“Okay, Miss Lisa. I’ll do my best!”

“Feel free to just call me mother. I’ve seen you as a daughter from the moment my son brought you into our home and since my husband hasn’t given me any daughters...you’re the next best thing and I honestly couldn’t be any more grateful for your arrival in our lives.”

Hidden behind a tall shelf lined with various tomes and scrolls, the young man couldn’t help but take peeks at the two most important women in his life as they bonded with one another. His mother so easily took you under her wing when he brought you here and you weren’t averse to the motherly affections she directed at you.

Now if he could only be as forthright with his feelings as his mother and express himself to you, because you were clearly as dense as a rock and didn’t pick up any of the subtle hints he gave you about his intentions...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“If you’re really okay with someone like me...then please use me as much as you like,” with a red blush highlighting your soft cheeks, you try not to look at the flushed and heavily panting Adrian pinning you down upon his bed.

The dhampir had accidentally inhaled the pollen of some new plant you both came across while partaking in your regular walks together. It took effect immediately, the normally calm and composed blonde becoming so flustered and heated that you’d think he was running a fever with how much sweat dripped down his face.

The raging erection which tented at the front of his trousers told you everything you needed to know, however.

Even if it was only to help him, you don’t regret giving yourself to Adrian because you love him. Even after the effects wear off, you hope that you’ll still stay friends because you’ve grown to love this castle and all its wonders. But especially its inhabitants—

“While I would have preferred to put a ring on you first, I’m afraid that I’m at my limit...but I promise to properly wed you after this, my love.”

The night is a blur by the time you wake up the morning after. Hazy memories of soft and firm touches, wet and deep kisses, harsh grunts and pitiful mewls, and nails scratching against the skin of his toned back as your tight cunt is forced open by his lengthy cock. You don’t remember how many rounds you went last night, having lost count of the amount of times you felt him spraying his seed deep inside of you and how you oh so shamelessly tightened even further each time he painted your walls white.

“We must inform mother and father once they return from their little trip. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled at the news of our union...though perhaps I might be scolded for taking you to bed before the actual wedding…” Adrian chuckled, messy strands of blonde hair tumbling down his chest as he gazed down at you with his head propped up by his hand, all the while you seemed to have been using his chest as a pillow the whole time you were sleeping.

“A-Adrian…!” You squeak and sputter at his joke, blushing all the way to the tips of your ears which only seems to ignite the flames within the dhampir once more as he rolls himself on top of you.

“If you truly insist on seducing me yet again...I suppose it is simply a husband’s duty to satisfy his wife”

[joshsindigostreak]

After Midnight

“‘Cause nothing good comes after midnight…”

Demon!Jake Kiszka x Reader

Authors Note: Hello lovelies!! This was a special request from our dear @gold-mines-melting to get a better look at how our Hatman!Jake was fairing in the world. This was super fun to write and my first official Jake smut!! I hope you enjoy him as much as I do ❤️

Word count: 8.1K

Warnings: SMUT, 18+, Minors DNI, unprotected sex (but he’s a demon so…wrap it up IRL!), oral sex f!receiving, brief discussions of Hell, swearing, but I think that’s it!

For Demons, the time around Halloween was a fun one. The veil was thinner, the air crisper, and humans let their guards down for the off chance of experiencing anything “spooky.” Multiple human cultures acknowledged the thinning of the veil, but very few truly understood what it meant. Not only were Spirits at their most active, but other beings were more abundant as well.  Jake was a Demon who fed on fear. Didn’t matter if it was a glimmer of anxiety, or a massive phobia, the energy of fear was everywhere.

Tonight, a full week before Halloween, the Demon was checking out a new apartment building, one he hadn’t been quite familiar with just yet, when a group of giggles echoed through the ether and met his ears. He followed the sound and found himself in a tiny apartment, dimly lit with only a scattering of candles and strings of orange and purple lights that lined the walls and door frames. A group of young women sat on the floor, surrounding the coffee table, all in different Halloween costumes. Jake’s presence was invisible and undetected, which allowed him to lean against the wall and observe. 

His eyes scanned the group, eventually landing on you in the middle of your friends. Your costume wasn’t much, just a thin white nighty with some cheap Angel wings fixed on your back. The human interpretation of Angels was laughable, given the true nature of such creatures. Always decked out in all white, implying purity and piety, soft feathery wings that rivaled a dove’s. It made the Demon roll his eyes. Out of his brothers, he had had the “pleasure” of interacting with such beings the most over the years. If only humans knew that the creatures they perceived as “nurturing” and “protective” didn’t actually care about them as people but as cogs in the machine known as “The Greater Good.”

Angels were geniuses at marketing. 

However, the sight of you with your Party City set of wings was endearing to Jake. He wished he hadn’t had such a sordid history with Angels so that he could appreciate the aesthetic fully, but he couldn’t help that. But the way your hair fell over your shoulders, bare except for the thin spaghetti strap of your “dress”, and the way the candles lit your face from where you sat, had the Demon’s interest peaked. He pushed himself off the wall he had been leaning against and took a few silent steps forward, curious as to what you and your friends were huddled around on the coffee table. 

He almost let out a chuckle when he saw what had the group in such a heated debate: a ouija board. 

“If you even think about using that thing I’m going to leave,” your friend Claire hissed from her spot on the couch while she sipped whatever beverage she had concocted in your kitchen. 

“Bitch please, you are not, it’s a kids game for fucks sake,” your other friend Nora rolled her eyes from the other side of the coffee table while she examined the lid of the box. 

“They just creep me out. Haven’t you heard about them opening doors to things if you’re not careful?” 

“I highly doubt a mass produced piece of cardboard that's sold around the world is a true door to Hell, Claire,” Nora reasoned. 

Claire bristled, “Well you guys can have fun with it, I’m not participating.” 

They were both right in different ways. Inherently the “game” didn’t do much in terms of anything spiritual, but humans had a habit of knocking on doors they aren’t supposed to, and Demons never resisted fucking with them in return. Unfortunately for these girls, a Demon was already in the room with them, and the corners of his mouth were twitching at the thought of giving them a good scare during their party. 

Finally, your wine-induced opinion was heard, “I mean why not? Its October after all. What’s the worst that could happen?”

Very Angelic of you. 

Jake immediately loved the sound of your voice, and sat down in the empty spot across from you and next to Nora. 

His presence didn’t go fully unnoticed, with Nora rubbing her arms through the cheap fabric of her Witches costume, which consisted of a short black dress and a stereotypical pointed hat on her head. 

“Is anyone else cold?” 

She was met with everyone shaking their heads at her. 

“Weird.” 

Jake could feel the anxiety in the room start to build, and he knew it was only going to get better. 

You set your wine glass down on the end table and joined Nora in placing your fingertips on the planchette. The two of you took turns asking random questions, and it was clear to Jake that Nora was trying to move the planchette herself for shits and giggles. 

But now, it was Jake’s turn to start answering. 

“Is there anyone with us, right now?” Nora dramatically asked with her eyes closed. The Demon to her left took the opportunity to nudge the planchette over the “YES” portion of the board. 

“Oh we’re not alone,” you joked and laughed with the girls. 

You had no idea, Jake thought. 

“Are you a ghost, then?” You asked into the air. 

Amused, Jake guided the planchette to the “NO”. 

At that, he saw your fingertips twitch on the plastic surface, and he heard your heart quicken in your chest. 

“I fucking told you to not mess with-” Claire started to protest. 

“If you’re not a ghost, then what are you?” 

Now the fun would really begin. 

Jake slowly moved the planchette around the board, spelling out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”. 

Nora looked down at the board, “we know that,” she said defiantly. 

“Nora,” you lightly scolded, “don’t be rude to the spirit!”

Nora shrugged, not phased, “Oh spirit of olde, where are you from?”

Jake smirked, 

“H-E-L-L”

Your hands paused as the second L was magnified under the planchette, and looked up at Nora. 

“Oh of course the big bad spirit is from Hell,” your friend was openly mocking whoever it was you were speaking to. 

“Is Hell fun?”

You title your head and narrowed your eyes, “it's Hell, Nora.” 

“What? Maybe it's fun for them?” 

Jake silently nudged your hands to the YES. The mounting anxiety that was oozing off of Claire and the other girls was delicious. 

“Come on, Nora you’re just moving it yourself,” one of your other friends voiced from her spot on the couch next to Claire, unimpressed.

“I am not!” she hissed. The accusation appeared to have shifted her mood and she put her hands in her lap, “whatever, I’m bored and I need a refill.”

She got up in a huff and exited into your tiny kitchen. The rest of the girls followed after her, needing refills themselves. That left you all alone with your fingers still resting on the planchette. 

Softly, you murmured, “sorry about her…she can be a lot.” You had no idea if you were even speaking to anyone, and felt a little dumb, but it was Spooky Season, and you needed some whimsy in your life. 

Jake however, was utterly entranced by you across the coffee table. He sat there, eyes traveling around your face and down your body. The flickering light from the candles lit your features in such a delicate way. He watched as you blushed in embarrassment. You shook your head at yourself, mumbling about how stupid that was to say. You reached for your wine glass and gulped down the little you still had. He studied the way your fingers held the stem of the glass, how your lips fit against the rim, how your eyes fluttered shut as the wine hit your tongue, and how your throat bobbed slightly as you swallowed. 

If you could have seen the Demon in front of you, you would have seen how his soft eyes followed your every movement. You would have seen the dark brown irises he always chose when he wanted to look more human, eyelids heavy and dark circles underneath. He couldn’t look away. 

There wasn’t any fear in the room now, only curiosity from Jake himself. 

But you couldn’t see him. You didn’t know he was truly there. In your eyes, you were tipsy and had just played a slumber party game with your friends. You weren’t talking to a Spirit of any kind, it was just Nora fucking with everyone as she always did. You rolled your eyes at yourself and got up off the floor. In silence you put the ouija board back in the box along with the planchette, ready to move on to other activities you had planned. 

In your buzzed state, you forgot one of the rules to using a Ouija board, which was to always say goodbye to whomever you were speaking to. It was a formality to close any ‘doors’. You hadn’t done that. You simply scooped up your glass and headed into the kitchen to join your friends. That left the Demon alone in your living room. 

Jake contemplated staying around, just to see how the night went, but his ears started ringing, and he could tell his talents were needed elsewhere. It was better for his best interest to head out anyway. The Demon sighed and rose off the floor, giving one last glance through the archway into your kitchen. You and your guests had moved on to tequila shots and arguing over what movie you were going to watch next. Tequila after wine? He knew your human body would be regretting that in the morning. 

He smiled at you one last time before disappearing from your apartment, off to see one of his regulars who had a penchant for Benadryl. 

~!~

In one the many gardens of Hell, the young Demon found himself wandering down a path lined with thick and tangled rose bushes. The petals ranged from bright red to deep purple, all twisting and growing together in ways they couldn’t naturally on earth. He wasn’t in the gardens much, but it was his twin’s turn to pick the meeting place, and this was one of Josh’s favorite places. 

Jake rounded the corner and caught sight of Josh, perched on a stone bench with his newly gifted wings stretched out behind him, face tilted towards the eternally sunset sky, eyes closed. 

“You’re late,” he said as he flexed his wings. 

“You’re the last person to tell anyone they’re late for anything,” Jake replied warmly before sitting down next to him. 

“Sam and Danny can’t make it. Something to do with business they each had Topside,” Josh opened his eyes and looked over at Jake. 

“You’d know all about Topside business, brother. How is she anyway?” 

A toothy grin formed on his brother’s face, “Amazing, as always.” 

Jake had to admit, the situation with Josh and the human hadn’t turned out too bad in the end. He had only met her a few times but he liked seeing how happy his brother was, and he was comforted knowing she had been a big part of that. 

“What about you? Have you been terrorizing humanity with your threatening presence? Even in that ridiculous hat?” Josh nudged Jake’s shoulder. 

Jake rolled his eyes, “you laugh but this hat and my presence are synonymous with nightmares. They blog about it on the internet.” 

“Memes. The height of Demonic achievement.” 

“Shut up,” Jake said with a soft laugh. His thoughts drifted back to you, and how he spied on your party. It had only been a few days since that night, and he couldn’t get you or your little wings out of his head. He’d close his eyes and the sight of how the candles lit your face would flood his thoughts. He had only seen you for less than an hour but he was enamored, besotted, lovestruck. It was such an unfamiliar feeling he wasn’t sure if he liked it or not. Humans had never particularly caught his eye in his unnaturally long life. But here he was, stewing over the pretty girl in the Angel wings. 

“Who is it?” Josh asked. He knew something was up with Jake. 

“Who is what?” Jake tried to hide the defensiveness in his voice. 

“Whoever has you zoning out that hard. You haven’t been listening to a thing I’ve said in the last two minutes.” 

“Yes I have.”

“What was I saying?”

Jake’s mouth twisted in a frown, “doesn’t matter. It’s nothing.” 

Josh gave him a knowing look, “Jake…” 

“Ijustfindherfascinating,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“You what? You find who fascinating?” 

“Justhisgirl,” he mumbled once more. 

“A girl?” Josh made an educated guess, “a human, girl?”

Jake refused to look up at him but his face reddened at his brother's words. 

Josh’s wings twitched behind him, “you gave me…so much shit…and here you are…” A laugh escaped him and gradually got louder and louder until he leaned over with his elbows on his knees, shoulders shaking from the force. 

“It’s not funny.” 

“Yes…it is,” Josh said after somewhat composing himself. 

“It’s whatever, I’ll probably never see her again.”

 

“Aww why not?” 

“Like I told you before, humans aren’t a good idea.” 

Josh gave him a look, “you said that and then I ended up having the best year of my life. So…” 

Jake looked down at his watch, “Well I have nightmares to cause, chaos to sew.”

“Yeah, ok,” Josh said with a smile and an eye roll. He couldn’t wait to see how this turned out for his brother. 

~!~

Weeks had gone by, and the Demon had tried his best to keep you out of his mind. He kept himself distracted by staying in other cities, soaking up nightmares far away from you. He was being ‘good’, as far as Demons go. Any trouble he got into had nothing to do with the pretty human in the Angel wings. He had only barely heard your name called out to you before he had left your apartment. 

That didn’t mean the temptation wasn’t there. He could be inside your place in the blink of an eye if he wanted, but he needed to keep his distance. The last thing he needed was to get caught up with a human. It might have worked out for his twin, but that was an anomaly. You would be terrified of him, and while he knew your fear would be delicious, a small part of him didn’t want it. He didn’t want to imagine you afraid, or anxious. The possibility didn’t sit right with him. 

But at the end of the day, Jake was a Demon, and Demons are imperfect creatures. After weeks of denying himself another glimpse of you, he found himself standing in your living room. The lights were still strung around on your walls, but now you had some Christmas decor mixed in. To his surprise, the ouija board was on your coffee table, already set up with the planchette resting in the center. 

You were sitting on your couch, staring at the board, trying to psych yourself up into placing your fingertips on the planchette. Against your better judgment, you had tried a few times to “communicate” with the Spirit you thought you had talked to the night of your party. But you never got an answer, not once. It made you feel a little dumb but you kept randomly trying. Something inside you was curious, and fully believed it wasn’t Nora being an asshole that night. 

Jake saw you reach for the board every so often, before returning your hands to your lap or fiddle with your phone. He raised an eyebrow, what were you doing? But then he remembered, you had left the ‘door’ open that night, never saying goodbye. This could be his chance without scaring the shit out of you by suddenly appearing. 

Instead of sitting across from you like the last time, he took his seat next to you on the couch. As a Demon, he could fully shield his presence from humans, which meant you wouldn’t feel a dip on the seat next to you. Jake could be as quiet as a ghost. 

Finally, you built up the nerve to place your fingertips on the planchette. You looked around the room, and quietly said, “Is anyone here?” 

Jake’s breath caught in his throat, and he moved his hand next to yours. The downside of his shielding meant that he couldn’t actually feel your hand, and he found himself wishing he could. He didn’t want you to give up and put the board away, so he began to move the plastic piece. With ease he slid it over to the YES corner of the board. 

You gasped, “holy shit. Umm…” Suddenly your mind had gone blank, and you stammered out, “are you a ghost?”

Jake smiled at the question, the same one you had that first night, and just like before he spelled out,

“N-O-T-A-G-H-O-S-T”

Taking some measured breaths you continued, “what are you, then?” 

Jake hesitated slightly. He could lie, and tell you he was a completely benevolent being just passing through the ether, but he didn’t want to. But he was worried you’d throw the board if he answered honestly. But fuck it. 

“D-E-M-O-N”

A chill ran up your spine as the word was completed, and your fingers trembled. You could do this. What have you got to lose?

“What kind of Demon?” 

There was only one word he could use for simplicity's sake, 

“F-E-A-R.”

“Well that makes sense, I guess,” you shrugged, “do you like being a Demon?”

Jake slid the planchette a little quicker to the YES corner. 

“Of course you do. What’s your name?”

Names. Knowing a Demon’s name had power. Humans like to say it means you can control said Demon, but that wasn’t entirely true. It meant that a Demon could hear their name being called by the person through time and space. He could be down in Hell and her even whispering his name would have the sound zinging through the ether and for him it would be as if you had said it right into his ear. Demons don’t have to answer calls, but more often than not they do. It was one of their more narcissistic qualities. 

Did he want to give you that kind of hold over him? To be able to cut through realms just to get his attention? To be able to summon him whenever you wanted? Yes. 

You were expecting some ancient, Biblical-esque name to be spelled out. And while it technically was Biblical, you certainly weren’t expecting, 

“J-A-K-E.”

This made you purse your lips and tilt your head.

 

“You’re a Demon…named Jake?” It wasn’t supposed to be funny, but you had to suppress a laugh. 

Jake’s eyebrows knitted together, not understanding why you found that amusing.

The Demon having such a…simple name relaxed you a bit. You didn’t know of many Demonic names, but you were glad the ones you did know weren’t this his. 

You felt a little more bold, “okay, Jake, prove to me you’re actually here.”

Oh, you wanted a show? He still didn’t want to scare you, but he couldn’t help but use one of his usual moves when nightmare hopping. 

The shadows in the room started to move. They grew larger as if they were climbing up the walls, merging together and creeping around the ceiling. The room was suddenly cloaked in darkness. He left the shadows in their altered state for a minute or two before setting them back to where they originally were. 

“Can you show yourself?”

He could, he could and he wanted to. 

“YES”

You swallowed some air, “then do it.” 

Jake stared at you, knowing that there was no going back now. He had been trying to ignore the anxiety that was coursing through your system, but hanging in front of him like bait on a hook. 

He dropped the shield, letting himself be fully visible and very much right next to you. 

The Demon’s sudden appearance started you so much you recoiled against the arm of the couch, with a few expletives rapidly escaping your mouth. He sat stock still, his large dark brown eyes were locked onto yours. He was dressed in fittingly all black, with a wide brim hat sitting atop his head. Long brown hair fell just past his shoulders. He was gorgeous. Fuck. 

“You’re…really sitting here?” 

He shrugged and rested his arm on the back of the couch, maintaining a comfortable distance from you, “I’ve been sitting here, darling.”

Your bottom lip disappeared between your teeth as you continued to take him in. 

“I just…I just can’t believe it was you at my party.”

The corners of his mouth threatened a smile, “Wasn’t even supposed to be there, honestly. I was just passing through and couldn’t resist crashing the party. I also found your…inaccurate costume amusing.” 

Your nose crinkled, “inaccurate?”

His eyes softened slightly, “Angels aren’t meant to be beautiful.” 

Your heart stuttered, and your voice wobbled to match, “th-they aren’t? What’s wrong with them?”

He leaned his side into the back of the couch, “oh, nothing if you like pompous, arrogant hall monitors who make their lack of free will everyone else’s problem.” 

Your eyebrows slowly raised at his words, “that’s easy to say, for a Demon.” 

His features hardened, “I have stories for days about those pricks that would make you understand my opinion of them, darling.” 

You don’t know why you felt emboldened to talk back to a Demon of all beings, but you were enjoying the adrenaline rush. 

“What exactly do you…do…as a Demon?”

“In general I feed off people's fears, mainly through their nightmares but I can do the same if they’re awake as well.” 

He said it so matter of fact. As if he was telling you what the weather was like outside. 

“I also run favors for any of the higher-ups if they need to get people’s…attention.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I just…make my presence known and usually that means that one,” he started counting with his fingers, “they know they’re being monitored and if they owe anything to anyone that they’re not going to get away with not fulfilling their end of the bargain. And two, it frightens them so much that I get a good meal out of it. Everyone wins.”

“How do you…feed…?”

“It’s not really ‘eating’ in the literal sense. It’s more of a one sided energy exchange. Human emotions have insane amounts of energy.”

You shifted in your seat, facing him more directly, “are you feeding off my fear right now?” 

He tilted his head a little, “but you’re not afraid, are you, darling?”

He was right. Apprehensive? Sure. Fascinated? Very. But afraid? Fearful? You couldn’t understand why, but you almost felt calm in front of him. 

“Do you want me to be afraid?” 

He leaned in closer, giving into his bold nature, “fear is the last thing I want to taste from you.” 

Heat flooded your body at his words. Did he want you? You found yourself leaning closer to him, your mind envisioning all sorts of scenarios at the implication. The air around you seemed to shift, and the Demon’s gaze darkened. 

“Why did you come back tonight?”

He stared at you, “You…fascinate me…”

Your eyebrow twitched in confusion, “fascinated?”

“I don’t have a lot of experience interacting with humans outside of when I visit them at night, but when I happened upon your party…I couldn’t take my eyes off of you. Something about you was different, and it was an unfamiliar feeling to me. I regret not staying longer that night.” 

“Oh…”

“But my question for you, darling, is why did you try to communicate again with the board?” He casted a sideways glance at your coffee table, before his dark eyes returned to yours. 

You fiddled with your fingertips, “I don’t know…I had this nagging feeling that what happened that night was actually real, and it wasn’t just typical halloween party bullshit. I tried a few more times, but never got a response until tonight.” 

Something in Jake’s chest tightened at the thought of her trying to reach out but he hadn’t been around to answer, or worse, something with truly malevolent intentions would have been on the other side of that board. 

“I guess we’re both a pair of curious creatures, then,” he said softly. 

He was right, curiosity was all your brain could focus on, besides those brown eyes and velvety-looking lips of his. Because of this, you found yourself scooting closer to the Demon, feeling that the space between you was unnecessarily far. 

  The Demon of course noticed you moving closer, and he shifted in his seat to face you more directly. He silently mapped out your face, taking in every feature, and feeling an itch in his hands to hold your soft cheeks. For once in his long infernal life, the hunger he was feeling wasn’t for fear. 

This wordless communication continued until your faces were inches apart. You fought against the urge to flutter your eyes close and lean in even closer. 

He curled a finger under your chin, “I don’t bite, I promise…” 

You swallowed at his words, shaking off any lasting nerves and leaned forward, brushing your lips with his. 

The Demon nearly froze as you made contact, but he quickly kissed you back, not wanting to risk you pulling away. His hands did as they wanted, and finally slid up your jaw to your cheeks cupping them softly as he tilted his head for a better angle. You melted into the kiss, parting your mouth slightly to allow him access. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, before venturing into your mouth and colliding with your own.

The kiss grew more heated by the second, and you found yourself leaning back on the couch, with your new companion beginning to hover over you. The cool metal from the necklaces he wore grazed your chest as he got closer to you, and you relaxed against the couch cushion, allowing him to get fully on top of you. 

Soon, he was flat on top of you and your hands were buried in his dark locks. The hat that sat upon his head was tilted back from the angle, but it was still getting in the way. You moved your hand up his scalp to fling it out of the way, when your fingers curled around something…hard. As soon as your hand came into contact with the strange texture, the Demon on top of you groaned and bit down on your lower lip. 

Curiosity won and you peeped your eyes open and fully pushed his hat off his head, not caring where it landed on the floor. Your eyes widened when you saw what your fingers were curled around. 

A horn. 

He had a pair of them, fixed parallel with each other and curling backwards slightly into sharp points. They were a deep crimson in color, bordering on oxblood. His thick dark hair parted perfectly around them, making the front pieces of his hair fall beautifully on either side of his face. Your body froze underneath him. 

“Y-you have…horns?”

Through heavy lids, he gazed down at you, “most Demons do, darling.” 

You nodded slightly, of course they did. Your fingertips grazed down the side of one, studying the texture along the way. The more your hand moved, the more his hips squirmed and grinded into yours. You became keenly aware of the growing bulge between you. 

“Does that feel good?” You asked, sliding your fingers up to see how sharp the point was. 

His brown eyes seemed to darken even more, and a low grumble came from his throat, “you have no idea.” Jake couldn’t hold back any longer and crashed his lips back onto yours. You gasped as his tongue lapped at your lips for entrance. He savored and swallowed every sound you made, wanting to memorize them all. His hands reached under the t-shirt you were wearing and you swiftly helped him take it off of you. You hadn’t been wearing a bra, and he immediately cupped both breasts, squeezing and kneading your flesh as you arched up into him. His fingers tweaked your nipples before he lowered his mouth on one, swirling his tongue around the hardened peak.

The Demon’s fingers reached down to the top of your leggings. They slid underneath the fabric slightly before he raised his head and looked to you for permission. You slipped your bottom lip between your teeth and nodded, raising your hips off the couch to help him out. 

You hadn’t bothered with underwear since you were at home,  so when Jake swiftly pulled your leggings down and off your legs, his eyes were immediately met with your core. 

His hands rested on the top of your bent knees, slowly spreading them to get a better look at you. You could feel the heat radiating off of his palms. It wasn’t your typical feeling of body heat. There was a pulse to it that crept up your thighs, and reminded you that he truly wasn’t a human being. 

You remained still, watching him look at you. Your eyes followed his one hand as it traveled along your inner thigh, slowly making its way to where you needed him most. His eyes were locked on your core. Gently, his thumb briefly toyed with some of the curls that resided there, before dipping down into your slit. He dragged it through your arousal, hyper aware of every jump and gasp you made at his touch. 

For a brief moment, you thought you had seen his eyes turn fully black before returning to the dark brown you were familiar with. He started to lower himself down, bringing his face closer and closer to your core. Those same piercing eyes flicked up to your face, silently asking for permission again. Quickly you nodded as your heart started hammering in your chest. 

He licked his lips in anticipation. What he hadn’t revealed to you, was that you were about to be the first human that he’d tasted this way. The Demon knew what fear, anxiety, dread, all of the above tasted like. But this? This was desire, your desire, and he couldn’t stop himself from spreading your swollen lips apart with his fingers lowering his mouth to your flesh. 

The taste had him immediately humming into you, tongue swirling around your folds to gather as much of your arousal onto his tongue as he could. The action had you bucking into his mouth, one hand shaking by your side while the other gripped the back of your couch. 

Jake wrapped his arm around your thigh, resting his hand on your hip bone to hold you in place. His tongue dipped into your entrance before traveling upwards to finally give your clit the attention it desperately needed. You cried out as it made contact, jerking your hips once again towards his mouth. He chuckled slightly against you before taking your clit fully into his mouth and sucking on it harshly enough to elicit a high pitched whine from your throat. 

“Jesus-fucking-Christ,” you gasped into the air. 

The Demon released your clit and gruffly whispered into your core, his lips close enough to brush against you as he spoke “Jesus isn’t the one making you feel like this, darling.” 

You hiccuped a laugh as his lips wrapped around your clit once more. 

His fingers on his unoccupied hand circled your entrance a few times before dipping a single finger inside. Feeling your warmth surround him had the Demon rutting his hips into the couch cushion. 

Your back arched as he added a second finger, and the hand at your side flew to his dark hair, desperate to get him even closer to your core. He groaned into you as your fingernails dug into his scalp.  With every curl of his fingers or swipe of his tongue, you felt your high hurtling towards you. You grinded down onto his fingers while he continued expertly swirling his tongue around your clit. His hair wasn’t enough. You needed something else to hold onto. Blindly, you loosened your grip to move your hand to the left and wrap around the dark ridged horn that grew from his head. 

The second your hand secured itself around his horn, Jake gasped around your clit, breathing out hot hair against your sensitive flesh before he made a low growl in his throat. His teeth nipped at your skin as his mouth closed around your clit, causing you to cry out once again. His fingers sped up inside you, knowing you were close and wanting to desperately know how you felt and what you sounded like when you came. 

With one more harsh curl of his finger against that spot inside you, and the way his tongue flattened out as it swiped up the left side of your clit, the tension in your body broke as your orgasm took over your body. You shouted his name towards your ceiling, not caring if your neighbors heard it through the paper thin walls of your apartment building. 

He worked you through your high, trying to prolong it as long as he could before he slowed his movements to gently guide you back down. 

Eventually, your body went slack underneath him, and your hand left his horn to rub your face as you came back to reality. Jake lightly peppered kisses up your thigh as he slowly withdrew his fingers. You quietly whimpered at the loss, hating how empty you suddenly felt. 

Jake licked his fingers clean, not wanting to waste a drop of you. He couldn’t get enough, and while he wasn’t sure if all humans tasted this good or not, he was certain that none of them could come close to how delicious you were. 

He carefully crawled up your body, admiring how you blissed out you looked with your eyes closed and a small smile on your lips. 

Slowly you opened your eyes, still in disbelief over what had just happened. The two of you stared at each other silently before Jake lowered his mouth onto yours, and you could taste yourself on his tongue. 

The kiss turned heated, and you started to grab at the shirt that he was still wearing. 

He murmured against your lips, “darling, as much fun as we’re having on your couch, if I’m going to have you,” the implication obvious in his tone, “I want to be able to take you properly, on a bed.” 

You stifled a laugh before turning your head towards the open door of your bedroom. Within seconds the Demon had gathered you in his arms as he made his way to the doorway. He crossed the threshold and gently laid you on your bed. 

“You’re wearing far too much,” you boldly observed. 

He smirked at you, “well we can’t have that, can we?” 

You smiled and sat up on your knees and quickly helped him shed the offending layers of clothing, leaving just a pile of black clothing and leather boots next to your bed. Your eyes drank him in, noting every dip and contour of his body. His skin was already glistening slightly with sweat after your activities on the couch. Your gaze lowered and followed the faint trail of hair under his belly button down to thick dark curls that surrounded the base of his cock. 

The way your eyes widened at the sight of him had the Demon fighting back a smirk, and he took his cock in his hand to give himself a few pumps just to tease you even more. Jake crawled up the bed to hover over you. 

If it weren’t for the horns, you wouldn’t have guessed a Demon was looking down at you, with how soft his gaze was. Your chest swelled unexpectedly at the silent emotions swimming behind his dark eyes. You had so many questions for him, and a need to know everything about him and his life. You didn’t want to think about the fact that he’d probably leave after tonight. 

His lips brushed yours with a feather-light softness, as if he was afraid you’d shatter underneath him like glass. The gesture had your heart stuttering in your chest. 

“I know you said you’re not a ghost,” you whispered, calling back to your first interaction, “but promise you won’t disappear like one…afterwards…”

Jake knew what you were asking, and every option weighed heavily on his mind. This was completely uncharted territory for him, and for all of his confidence he was unsure how to navigate it. 

He looked down, focusing on a lone freckle on your stomach before replying, “didn’t anyone tell you that Demons were dangerous?” 

There was a sheepishness to his tone that surprised you, but you countered, “you mean the same people who told me to not fuck with Ouija boards?”

“You never know who you’re talking to…”

“I don’t know you’re not so bad….” you mused. 

His eyes traveled up your body to meet yours, “I’m not an innocent creature, darling.”

Now it was your eyes that darkened, “show me…” 

You felt his thick cock twitch between you in response.

Jake surged forward and captured your lips with his. You wasted no time to return the kiss, cradling his jaw in your hands. Your legs went lax in his hands as he spread them apart to fit himself between them. He reached down to wrap his hand around his cock and dragged it through your slit. You gasped at the contact, and then smiled against his lips. 

“Please…,” you whispered, the need for him taking over your body. 

With a swivel of his hips, his cock plunged inside you, bottoming out as far as he could go. You threw your head back and cried out, relishing how full you felt. 

Jake didn’t even try to hold back the groan in his throat as your velvety heat enveloped him. He tried to give himself a minute to catch his breath. Moreover, he was trying to give you a minute to adjust, but your legs wrapped around his hips, sending the message to move. Happy to oblige you, he reared his hips back nearly all the way, before thrusting forward hard enough that your ankles shook slightly against the small of his back. 

Your mouth hung open and your eyes were screwed shut, and the Demon leaned down to whisper in your ear, “alright there, darling?” 

You tilted your head to reply, “if you don’t start moving…”

He chuckled and whispered something you were sure sounded like a playful, “demanding little thing…” before settling into a steady rhythm. Your nails dug into the skin of his shoulders as he moved, and the feeling of his flesh under your hands sent a sharp jolt of pleasure through your body. 

Jake buried his face in the crook of your neck, planting kisses along your neck as he gained speed. Soon he was all but slamming into you, making your bed creek to the point where the frame was getting closer and closer to hitting the wall behind it. 

There was only one light on in the room, a small desk light in the corner by your laptop, It wasn’t bright enough to fully illuminate the room, but it cast a warm glow from the side of the room it was on. Your eyes fluttered open briefly as you clung to the Demon inside you, and you noticed that the shadows on the walls and the ceilings looked…different. They were moving in ways that weren’t natural, in fact they shouldn’t have been moving at all given the source of light. But they were wobbling and morphing into different abstract shapes around you. It was then you remembered what Jake had done to prove his presence in your apartment: the trick with the shadows and how he used them to cloak all visible light in the room. 

Your attention on the shadows didn’t last however, as he hiked one of your legs higher on his side, pushing it towards you chest and giving him a new angle to work with. This let him hit even deeper, and the head of his cock was rutting against a spot inside you that had you gasping for air. 

Jake felt you squeezing him harder and more frequently as he continued his pace, and he could tell you were getting close. He smirked against the skin of your shoulder and reached down with his other hand to grab your ass cheek and knead the soft flesh as he worked you towards your second orgasm of the night. 

At this point you were a babbling mess underneath him, holding on for dear life as you hurtled towards the edge. He lifted his head up and greedily crashed his lips into yours, wanting to feel every gasp and reedy sigh coming from you. 

It was all too much, and you couldn’t hold back anymore. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head and a cry flew from your mouth as your orgasm took over, shattering beneath him. 

“Yeah…yeah that's it, darling…doing so well,” he encouraged in a low voice as he continued to piston his hips and work you through your high. 

Jake slowed as you began to come down, and your muscles felt like jello from how tense they had been leading up to your orgasm. His lips pressed sweetly into your cheek, as he felt you relax even further onto the bed. He hoped you weren’t too tired, because he wasn’t through with you. 

Before you could register which way was up, the Demon pulled out of you, hissing at the sudden rush of cold air on his cock. Your eyes opened a bit in curiosity, as you knew he hadn’t came yet. The shadows were still flickering on the walls to their own accord, resembling flames with their movements. 

He sat up on his knees, resting on his haunches and taking your hips in his hands. In one swift motion, he had you on your stomach, yanking your hips backwards before he reared back himself and slammed back into you from behind. 

You cried out into the pillow beneath you, your body still sensitive from your last orgasm. All of her nerve endings were on fire, and lightning bolts of pleasure radiated from your core as he rutted into you at a brutal pace. 

It was a struggle to keep yourself properly on your hands and knees, as every thrust had you lurching forward and nearly off balance. Curse words fell from your mouth, harmonizing with the grunts and heavy breathing from the Demon behind you. His thick hands and long finger were squeezing your hips in such a way you were sure there would be marks left behind, but you didn’t care, you loved how rough he was at that moment. A stark contrast to how he had been in the previous round. 

He slowed his pace slightly to these long and deliberate strokes, wanting to really savor how incredible you felt wrapped around him. But while this angle felt amazing not only for you and for him, he felt a little far away from you, and he didn’t like that at all. 

While maintaining his pace he gathered you up in his arms and pulled you upright, securing your back to his front, and his chin on your shoulder. The new angle had him thrusting upwards into you, and it made your head fall back onto his shoulder. Your legs were starting to shake from the excursion, and instinctively you reached up and took one of his horns in your hand to keep yourself balanced. 

This caused the Demon to growl next to your ear. His hips involuntarily swiveled and pushed his aching deeper inside you at the feeling of your hand on one of his horns. The combined sensations had his own high looming in the distance, but he didn’t want to cross the finish line alone. He slid his hand down your torso to your clit, immediately figuring out the pattern that caused the biggest reaction from you. 

“You got one more for me? Hmm? Do you, darling?” He spoke into your ear and pressed his lips on the shell of it. “I know you do; you can do it. You’re already squeezing me so tight.” 

He was whispering pure filth into your ear as he kept rutting into you and working your clit. He didn’t just want to feel you come again, he needed it. Once around his fingers and another around his cock wasn’t enough for him. He needed more. 

Your body started to tremble in his arms, and he knew you were right on the edge. He wasn’t very far behind you as his cock stiffened even more. Within seconds you were clamping down around him again, throwing your head back and crying out towards the ceiling. As your high slammed into you again, the Demon’s own orgasm course through him. He let out a low groan as his hips stuttered a few times before pushing into you one final time, emptying himself completely. In the midst of it all, the shadows closed in on you both briefly before retreating and settling back in their rightful places, looking completely normal now. 

His hand slowly circled your clit, trying to prolong your orgasm as long as he could, but when your body jolted at the sensitivity he stopped and slowly withdrew from you. Your legs started to give out and he quickly caught you and gently laid you back down on the bed, not wanting you to fall. 

The sight of his release slowly rolling down your thigh distracted him for a second, before he remembered it was the gentlemanly thing to do to clean you up. Thankfully, you had a bathroom attached to your room, so he didn’t have to go too far to get a warm washcloth to clean you both up. The whole time you watched him through heavy lidded eyes, exhausted from the whole evening. 

On his way back from throwing the rag in your hamper, he noted his pile of clothes and his hat in the other room. He turned back to your bed, your eyes were nearly shut and you were under the covers. An intrusive thought flashed through his mind, that it would be so easy for him to gather his things and leave, letting you wake up in the morning and chalk it all up to a wine-induced dream. But then your request from earlier filtered through his thoughts, and a pang shot through his chest. No…he couldn’t do that. Most surprisingly, he didn’t want to. 

He shook his head before crawling into your bed, wrapping his arms around you and letting you rest your head on his chest. 

You didn’t want to fall asleep, and you tried real hard to stay awake. But his lips rested on the crown of your head, while his fingers traced little patterns on your lower back. It wasn’t long before you both drifted off into a restful sleep. 

Hours later, when the sun had fully risen and light was streaming through your window, you were awoken by a low snore near your ear. Blinking your eyes open, you looked up to find Jake’s face inches from yours. His arms were around your waist and he was practically sharing your pillow, but you didn’t mind. Carefully you turned over to face him, trying not to wake him up. His features looked so much softer this way, and you could fully admire the slope of his nose and how his dark eyelashes fanned out on his cheeks. He was one of the most beautiful men you had ever seen. 

The Demon began to stir awake, and his eyes slowly opened to find you laying in the crook of his arm, absently fiddling with his necklaces. 

“Morning…,” he murmured, voice nearly an octave lower from sleep. 

“Morning…,” you replied, unable to hide the smile that slid across your face. 

His hand reached up and cupped your face, tilting it up wards so he could slot his mouth over yours in a languid kiss. 

As you pulled away, you whispered a question against his lips.

“Not a ghost?”

His arms tightened around you and pulled you closer to him. 

“Not a ghost, darling.” 

FIN

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[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Of Sauron's Lust on Season 3

Now Sauron's lust and pride increased, until he knew no bounds, and he determined to make himself master of all things in Middle-earth, and to destroy the Elves, and to compass if he might, the downfall of Númenor. He brooked no freedom nor any rivalry, and he named himself Lord of the Earth. A mask he still could wear so that if he wished he might deceive the eyes of Men, seeming to them wise and fair. But he ruled rather by force and fear, if they might avail; and those who perceived his shadow spreading over the world called him the Dark Lord and named him the Enemy; and he gathered under his government all the evil things of the days of Morgoth that remained on earth or beneath it; and the Orcs were at his command and multiplied like flies. The Silmarillion

Oh boy, Sauron's lust will increase and know no bounds in Season 3; this is a description of the "War of the Elves and Sauron" from Tolkien.

What kind of mind palace shenanigans will happen in Season 3!? Now that Sauron has a open line of communication via bound, and has already “bore a hole” to “slither in”to Galadriel.

Let’s see another example of when “evil lusts” in Tolkien lore: 

Then Morgoth looking upon her beauty [Lúthien] conceived in his thought an evil lust, and a design more dark than any that had yet come into his heart since he fled from Valinor. Thus he was beguiled by his own malice, for he watched her, leaving her free for a while, and taking secret pleasure in his thought. The Silmarillion [Lúthien dances for Morgoth on his Dark Throne, before she puts him and all the host of Angband to sleep with her magic singing]

Tolkien comes back to this "evil lust" Morgoth felt for Lúthien on several works:

…Yet I will give a respite brief, a while to live, a little while, though purchased dear, to Lúthien the fair and clear, a pretty toy for idle hour. In slothful garden many a flower like thee the amorous gods are used honey-sweet to kiss, and cast then bruised, their fragrance loosing, under feet. … A! curse the Gods! O hunger dire,O blinding thirst’s unending fire! One moment shall ye cease, and slake your sting with morsel I here take! In his eyes the fire to flame was fanned,and forth he stretched his brazen hand.Lúthien as shadow shrank aside. ‘Not thus, O King! Not thus!’ she cried. … …And her wings she caught then deftly up, and swift as thought slipped from his grasp, and wheeling round, fluttering before his eyes, she wound a mazy-wingéd dance… The Lay of Leithian, The Lost Road and Other Writings

"Nay," saith Melkor, "such things are little to my mind; but as thou hast come thus far to dance, dance, and after we will see," and with that he leered horribly, for his dark mind pondered some evil.  Book of Lost Tales vol.2

Then Morgoth laughed, but he was moved with suspicion, and said that her accursed race would get no soft words or favour in Angband. What could she do to give him pleasure, and save herself from the lowest dungeons? He reached out his mighty brazen hand but she shrank away. He is angry but she offers to dance. Commentary to the Lay of Leithian (The Lays of Beleriand)

Celeborn was his name. We met in a glade of flowers. I was dancing and he saw me there. Rings of Power, "The Eye", 1x07

Wait, what? I’m not implying Sauron will impersonate Celeborn, mind you. Only that there is already a reference to Galadriel dancing in “Rings of Power”.

Celebrimbor’s father (who was the most evil among all sons of Fëanor) also lust after Lúthien (like Celebrimbor himself after Galadriel in Tolkien lore):

...why Curufin looked with hot desire on Lúthien [...] thereafter never near might win to Lúthien, nor touch that maid" Lay of Leithian

Apparently, Charlie is right. Sauron might ravish Galadriel, yet. Her mind, of course.

Dead dove enjoyers: come to collect your ship.

[inbloomwriting]

Everything to me - Chapter 1

Chapter one - Apple seed

Story Masterlist

Plot: Jamie Tartt is a lot of things: professional footballer, the island's top scorer .... sexually, extremly handsome. But one thing he never saw himself as was a dad. Too bad he has to deal with the consequences of his own actions. This fic follows reader and Jamie as they navigate life and turn from practially strangers to parents. Pairing: Jaime Tartt x female reader Warnings: Pregnancy, swearing, mentions of food and alcohol, slight mention of sexual intimacy (nothing graphic), strained/toxic parental relationship Notes: 5.8k words. I do not have a set uploading schedule. Please bear with me as I work on this story. I know hardly anything about pregnancy, all my information comes from google. Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please

"You never understood you're everything to me I just hope you know, the future in your heart Is just about to start"

The universe must be mocking her, (Y/N) is sure of that. This is all one big elaborate joke and any minute now Ashton Kutcher is gonna jump out from behind some bushes and tell her that she has been punkd. 

She had a plan, all neatly laid out and organized. Blue ink on white paper in a fancy leather-bound notebook. Like a professional adult would do it who has their life all figured out. 

Renovate the store and get it back up and running

Sell it for profit 

Pay back Mum and get the fuck away from everyone and everything that has ever made her feel unworthy

That was the plan and she was so fucking determined to stick to it for once in her life. So this must be a prank. This must all be one big misunderstanding.

But it’s not a prank, is it? It’s the consequences of her own damn actions.

Her heart is racing as she climbs the stairs up towards Rebecca Welton’s office. Her legs and feet are heavy, like concrete. Why is being honest with your friends so damn hard? 

It’s not just any friend either. It’s Rebecca. Rebecca who has always been in her life ever since (Y/N) was just a kid. Rebecca who is the only person (Y/N) ever looked up to. Why is being honest with her so terrifying?

You know why! 

Yeah, (Y/N) knows why. Because she doesn’t know what she’ll do if Rebecca hates her for what happened. Of all the people in the world, she needs Rebecca on her side. 

As she lifts her hand and knocks on the door of the office, (Y/N) wonders if this is what death row inmates feel like. Knowing the end is inevitable and it’s all your own fault.

“Come in” 

Taking a deep breath, she opens the door and steps into the room. 3 pairs of eyes look back at her but really, the only ones that matter belong to the beautiful blonde sitting by the desk.

“(Y/N), Hi. What are you doing here? Did we have plans? I thought you went back — “

“Yeah I — no, we didn’t have plans.” 

It almost kills her, that smile that Rebecca sends her way. The one that’s so warm and loving and that’s been a constant in her life for most of her childhood and teenage years coming from Rebecca. Rebecca living in that lovely white house next door with the rose bushes and the big windows. Rebecca who taught her how to do the perfect eyeliner wing, who passed down her coolest leather jacket to her, who held her hair the first time she got wasted and threw up in those very rose bushes. Rebecca who was the older sister she never had. 

She loves that smile it used to bring so much comfort to her. Now it makes her want to die. The girl she used to be, deserved to be on the receiving end of that smile. She doubts she still deserves it.

“Can we—” (Y/N)’s eyes dart around the room towards Higgins, then towards the other man. He’s the American trainer, Ted. She’s talked to him once very briefly and he seems so — nice. Genuinely nice. Not for the sake of being perceived as a good person but because he just is. “— do you think we could talk privately?” 

There’s a flicker of concern in Rebecca’s eyes and (Y/N) hates that she put it there.

“Oh, of course. Ted, Leslie, would you excuse us?” 

Everything’s a blur. They leave and (Y/N) thinks Ted makes some kind of pun but she doesn’t really recognize anything but the racing of her heart and the sour feeling in her stomach. Oh, fuck.

Rebecca sits her down on the big couch by the window, the one that’s meant for personal talks, not business. She’s so nice. Oh, she's too nice.

“Are you dying?” 

“I — uh, no.”

“Okay, good.,” Rebecca says letting out a sigh of relief. “Now that that’s out of the way, can I offer you some tea?”

(Y/N) shakes her head.

“Coffee?” 

She repeats the motion

“Champagne?” Rebecca asks, a perfectly shaped eyebrow raised in question.

God, wouldn’t she kill for a glass of bubbly right now. 

“No, I’m good. Can you just come sit down, you’re making me nervous.” 

Not only does she sit down, Rebecca’s hand immediately finds (Y/N)’s, holding on warm and tight. It almost pulls an ironic scoff from (Y/N)’s lips. Mum doesn’t know but even if she did, she’d never offer this kind of comfort to her. She never did. So for a second, she lets herself relish in the affection. Just one second. 

“Okay, now out with it.” 

She’s rehearsed this conversation so many times in so many different ways. Like a school presentation. Meticulously planned. Even added in pauses for questions and shit like that.

All of that has vanished, her brain is empty, her tongue made of lead. 

“I uh — look um. Do you remember when your dad died?” 

Of all the ways she could’ve started this talk, this is probably the worst of them all. Who says things like that?

Rebecca seems a little taken aback for a moment before nodding her head and suppressing a slight smile, one brought on by the absurdity of the question, not by joy. “I do, yes. Hard to forget if I’m being honest.” 

“Yeah, I would know.” 

“Yeah.”

“So that night I was obviously very emotional because it reminded me of my dad and all of that bullshit.” Tears are already threatening to roll down her face, sitting on her waterline waiting for the right moment to strike. It’s impressive she still has any left to cry since that’s all she did the last few days.

“That’s understandable. Oh, please tell me you didn’t force yourself to come and relive all of your pain just because you felt like I expected you there? If I knew it was so hard on you I —” 

This, all of this, is twisting the knife so much deeper. Leave it to Rebecca to search for a fault of hers in all of (Y/N)’s mess.

“No, Rebecca, it's nothing like that. I — I fucked up. I let it all get to me and because I’m, well — me, I got a little tipsy. Went outside to get some air and there was this guy. God, Rebecca, he had the saddest eyes. I just felt this weird connection so I sat next to him. We talked and talked and then ended up going to a bar and then to my place and then to my bed and well yeah.” 

She giggles. Rebecca really has the audacity to giggle at that. In her defense, she tries to hold it in but it does slip out eventually. 

“It’s not funny.”

“Is this why you’re upset? You slept with someone at, no wait, after my father’s funeral. That’s okay.”

“There’s more.” 

"Oh, what is it? Was it a footballer?” 

At the lack of a vocal response, Rebecca connects the dots.

“Alright. That’s — that’s not so bad. I was seeing a 21-year-old footballer. I don’t see what’s making you so upset about this.” 

“I’m pregnant.” 

“Oh shit.” 

Getting Rebecca to swear was always something (Y/N) found a silly sense of pride in. Rebecca with her perfect hair and outfits and manners. It felt like something so alien to her and yet that was (Y/N)’s favorite version of Rebecca. The one that’s as messy as you and me even if it’s just for a second.

“Yeah, shit.” 

It’s the first time she said it out loud. Rebecca is the first person to know, except for (Y/N) herself and her gynecologist. Her mother doesn’t know. 

The father of the baby doesn’t know.

Just her and now Rebecca.

“And I don’t know what to do. This wasn’t the plan. Fuck — please don’t be mad.” 

“Why would I be mad? ” 

There is an infinite warmth in Rebecca’s eyes. A warmth she always longed for coming from her own mother but never received. A warmth that seems entirely misplaced right now. 

“I fucked your employee. I used your dad’s funeral to make the shittiest of all shit decisions and now I come here unloading all of this on you because I, once again, don’t know how to get myself out of the hole I dug.” 

Soft hands wrap around (Y/N)’s shoulder and pull her in. Rebecca smells like expensive perfume and hairspray. All comforting and familiar. It’s nice, (Y/N) thinks, that despite everything falling apart in and around her, there is at least one constant in her life. 

“Were you really afraid of telling me or are you just afraid?” 

She’s so smart and so observant, sometimes it’s infuriating. 

“I’m so scared, Rebecca.”

Life doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It doesn’t ease you into things, slow and gentle. There are no training wheels, no floaties. Life happens whether you’re prepared or not. It’s nice to know that there are arms wide open for you to fall into, a hand to pull you out of the roaring sea as you’re just about to drown.

“You can always unload on me, you know that right? That’s what family is for.” 

All the willpower to stay brave and collected and not cry, all that vanishes with Rebecca’s words. Family. They’re family. Maybe not by blood but definitely by fate. By choice. 

Mum would’ve told her to suck it up, to stop crying, and to face the consequences of her own actions. Would’ve probably had an “I knew this would happen” or an “I told you so” on the tip of her tongue. There is none of that with Rebecca. She just accepts the tears soaking through her, no doubt, expensive blouse and softly strokes (Y/N)’s head. 

For a long time, there are no words exchanged. Some moments ask for calmness not conversation. There’s something deeply therapeutic about crying on the shoulder of someone you deeply trust.

“Can I ask?” Rebecca inquires with a gentle voice just barely louder than a whisper.

She doesn’t have to elaborate. There are only so many questions people have after you told them you had a one-night stand and ended up pregnant. 

“You’re gonna hate the answer.” 

A laugh falls from Rebecca’s lips, her breath tickling the top of (Y/N)’s head. “Don’t tell me It’s Jamie.” 

“Okay, I won’t then.” 

“Oh, (Y/N).” 

Where there should be disappointment in her tone, there is understanding, there is slight amusement but above all, there is deep and honest care. 

“ Can you blame me? Look at him. He’s sculpted by the gods and something about that silly little accent does it for me. I hate to admit it, I truly do.” 

“Does he know?” 

(Y/N) shakes her head, guilt and fear coursing through her veins.

“I don’t even have his number. I know hardly anything about the guy other than that he’s a footballer, that his ego is huge, and that he likes to cuddle after sex.” 

Rebecca’s eyebrows rise in surprise. “Does he? Huh.”

“Yeah, it was really cute actually.” 

For a moment she almost gets lost in the memories of that night, however hazy they might be. Jamie was fun and to an extent he understood. And there’s nothing quite as sexy as a man who is just as sad and messed up as you. Is it healthy? Absolutely not but (Y/N) never claimed to have a particularly healthy view on anything. 

“He works here, you know. In this very building. You can just pop down and tell him.” 

The way Rebecca says it makes it sound so easy. Like it doesn’t come with a shit load of guilt and fear and embarrassment. 

“Wait, I didn’t even ask and I just realized that’s very presumptuous and maybe a little rude of me — do you even want to keep the baby?” 

That’s the big one. The question of all questions. It’s the second thought that came to her head when (Y/N) saw the two lines on that fateful plastic stick. The first one being “Oh fuck.” It’s the question her doctor asked. It’s in all of the leaflets and informational reading she’s been handed.

“I’ve never thought about it before. I mean sure I thought about some hypothetical future but those dreams always changed depending on my mood. Now I’m here and I need to make a choice and It’s — It’s terrifying.” 

“But?” 

“But I think I do want it. I think I want to be a — a mother.” 

It’s a word that feels strange on her tongue, bitter and sharp. Like biting down on your cheek and tasting blood. Mother was never the warm comfort of a home. It was the cold hand on her shoulder, the icy glance of disapproval. 

Maybe mother can be something else. Maybe she can turn it into something sweet.

“I’m just scared. This wasn’t the plan, not right now at least, and not like this. I’m scared of doing it alone.”

“What in the world does that mean? Alone?” 

“I don’t expect Jamie to step up. I’d appreciate it, of course. But he has a brilliant career and so much going for him. Getting me, a one-night-stand, pregnant could ruin so much for him. I don’t ever want that.” 

“No,” Rebecca says and cradles (Y/N)’s face between her warm hands “I mean, you’re not going to be alone. No matter what Jamie says. You have me. And I can guarantee you that there are at least 10 other people in this building right now who will also have your back. Whatever happens, I can promise you that you don’t have to do this alone. And don’t sell yourself short, you have a career too!” 

Maybe the universe isn’t mocking her after all. And maybe this isn’t a punishment either. Maybe this is just life pushing her into the deep end. Thank god she has people to help keep her afloat.

(Y/N)’s eyes wander from the clock on the wall towards the door then back. Over and over again.

Every time the door opens and someone leaves the locker room, her heart speeds up. Maybe if she dies of a heart attack right here and now she won’t have to talk to Jamie. That sounds like the most reasonable reaction. Anyone would agree. Right? 

The boys all regard her with a sense of cautious familiarity. They know her face, know they’ve seen her before but can’t recall where much less put a name to her. 

Well, all of them but Sam. He greets her with that big signature smile of his, so full of joy and sunshine. Calls out her name and asks her about her day. Rebecca might have a point that there are more people here that care about her. Their conversation is brief but there is no doubt in her mind that if she were to call him any time of the day, Sam would drop everything and help her out. That’s just the kind of person he is. 

She wonders if that’s the kind of person Jamie is. 

Another glance at the clock. 2 minutes pass. The door opens once more.

Jamie is smiling when he steps into the hallway. His hair is wet, probably from the shower, and held back by that silly little headband of his. He’s wearing a ridiculously bright orange hoodie and obnoxious colorful sneakers. Everyone else would look absolutely ridiculous in this get-up. Jamie makes it work. It must be some kind of superpower. 

Or maybe he’s just so unfairly fit that it doesn’t matter what he’s wearing. Even naked he looks phenomenal.

Stop thinking about him naked, that’s what got you into this mess.

“Oh, hi!” 

He’s so nonchalant, so casual when his eyes meet her’s across the hall. And really, why wouldn’t he be? What they had was casual. A one-night thing, no strings attached. Just two slightly broken people finding solace in each other. That was all it was supposed to be at least.

(Y/N) feels the weight of the secret resting so heavy on her shoulders, she’s sure she’ll collapse underneath it any second now. 

“Jamie, hi. Uh — can we talk?” 

“Sure, ‘bout what? Are you pregnant or something?” 

He says it with a smile, not giving a single thought to the fact that his joke might be no joke at all but the honest to god truth.

(Y/N) on the other hand, feels like someone doused her in ice water, just poured it all over her. Her hands are clammy, breathing shallow, heart racing. Maybe she’ll get that heart attack after all.

When she doesn’t answer, doesn’t laugh, Jamie’s eyes grow wide in return. Though his reputation might make you believe otherwise, he’s quite quick in putting two and two together. At least in this situation. He doesn’t look happy, that much she expected, but he doesn’t look upset either. He just looks shocked. There is nothing but pure disbelief on his face. The cocky smirk has dropped, now his mouth is opening and closing trying to produce words as his head is trying to process the information he just figured out.

“Do you want to go discuss this somewhere more private?” 

Of all the places to tell someone they got you pregnant, the hallway at his workplace might not be the more desirable. 

A pale-faced Jamie nods his head, his eyes distant and glassy. She knows the feeling, has been there just a few days ago. That’s his whole life playing like a movie in his head right there, now with added scenes of a small child with his eyes. Oh god, she hopes the baby gets his eyes.

Jamie drags her into a small room off of the main hallway. Cubicle cupboards line the walls, filled with shoes and boxes. Orange and bright green and yellow. Every possible color of the rainbow, they have a pair of shoes to match in here. The smell though? The smell has her gagging. Sweat and cold cigarette smoke. It’s disgusting. 

“Oh god, Jamie. This is disgusting.” 

“It’s the boot room. ‘s where we keep the boots — and people come here to smoke.” 

“They come here to smoke? On purpose? Like they chose to spend time in here?” 

Jamie absentmindedly nods his head. He’s so pale-looking (Y/N) fears he might just pass out any minute now. 

“Jamie, are you okay? Do you want to sit down?” 

His eyes start to focus again, looking straight at her. He’s terrified and quite honestly, she can’t blame him. Confusion and fear are all she’s felt for the last few days. A bit of excitement too, sure. But mostly the first two.

“Yeah. No. I mean yes. I guess? No. I — fuck.” 

Nervously he combs his fingers through his damp hair as if to calm himself down. Is that something his parents did to him when he was a kid? A motion of comfort? There is so much she doesn’t know about this man. If he decides that he wants to stick around, can this ever work? Can you raise a child with someone you hardly know and not completely fuck them up? 

“Is it mine, then? Are you sure about that?”

“No, I just like going around scaring people into believing they got me pregnant. Yes, Jamie! I am 100% certain.” 

His hands fly up in defense “Jesus, sorry. I don’t know your sexual history. You had sex with me after a funeral, don’t know how much you get around, now do I?” 

She had expected him to ask if it’s his, hell anyone probably would, but there’s something about his tone that is just so off-putting. The accusation that swings along with his words. The judgment. As if he is in any place to talk.

“Oh get off your high horse, dickhead. We both made that decision after the funeral. Didn't hear you complain. And out of the two of us, It’s not me who fucked a girl in a hot tub on national television. Eurgh” 

“You alright?” 

“No, this room is making me gag. I assume this is bad under normal circumstances but this pregnancy situation has my sense of smell going through the roof. This is killing me.” 

“Well, why didn’t you say nothing?! We could’ve gone somewhere else.” 

“I just wanted to — eurgh— I just wanted to get this over with.” 

“Let me get you out of —” 

“No, let me just say this real quick and then I’m off.” 

She’s prepared this speech a million and one times in a million and one ways. It always worked out fine but then again, her audience was just her cat and the mirror. Having Jamie look at her, a mix of concern and shock still on his face, that’s a whole different story.

“I am having this baby and I would like for you to be a part of their life, but I accept if you say no. Just know that whatever you decide, that’s final. I can’t have you running off and then coming back in a few years regretting your decision and wanting to be a parent after all. And I most definitely will not allow you to say you’re in and then give up on the baby halfway through. I had a parent like that, I will not have my child go through the same thing. I don’t need your decision now just — make up your mind and make sure you’re 100% certain. Here uh— “

Trying to hold her breath so as to not breathe in any more of the foul smell, (Y/N) rummages through her purse before pulling out a small piece of paper.

“They don’t usually do ultrasounds that early but I made friends with the nurse as I was waiting and they allowed me to get one and see the baby. Don’t really see shit on here if I’m being honest but apparently that blob is our child.” 

Jamie takes the picture, his eyes moving between the image and back to her, down to her stomach then back to the picture. It’s like his head and his eyes are trying to cope with the fact that there is a real baby growing inside her. His baby.

“I just thought you might want to have this, if not just throw it away. I’m not trying to manipulate or guilt you into anything. Let me know when you’ve made a decision. You know where I live and Rebecca has my number just ask her for it — I gotta get out of here. Eurgh.” 

And while an overwhelmed Jamie sinks to the floor of the boot room, ultrasound picture clutched in one hand while the other nervously combs through his hair, (Y/N) throws up in the bin by the front door. 

There are 3 things (Y/N) knows for certain. One of them is that Michelle Pfeiffer as Stephanie Zinone in Grease 2 is the coolest person in the world. The second one is that decaf coffee kinda sucks. And 3 is that whoever is knocking on her door at 9:15 tonight, disrupting her rewatch of Grease 2 better has a good reason to do so if they want to keep their head attached to their body.

Slowly she’s dragging herself towards the door. Today was exhaustion enough both physically and mentally, she really doesn’t need the stress of an unannounced visitor. Not when she’s dressed in an old, oversized Hardrock Cafe shirt, bike shorts, and those ridiculous yellow slippers she got on her last trip to Disney that look like Minnie Mouse’s shoes.

“I’m coming, Jesus — “ 

“I don’t know shit about babies.” 

Jamie looks different as he stands before her on her front steps, hair messy and flat against his head, wearing a big grey sweater. Gone is all the charming confidence and the mischievous smirks. He’s all sad eyes and shy smiles. He reminds (Y/N) of a sad, beaten puppy. She almost feels bad for him. Almost. That’s until the words that just fell from his lips really register in her mind.

“You could’ve just texted me you’re not interested. Didn’t have to come here, really.” 

“What? No, I am! “

“You just said —” 

“I said I don’t know shit about babies. Cause I don’t. But I’m not gonna run off.”

“You won’t?”

Jamie has never looked so genuine, so serious as in that moment and it sends a weird feeling through (Y/N). She didn’t have any expectations in him. You can’t really have those if you don’t even know the person. Sure, she hoped he would take interest in her and the baby but things truly could’ve gone either way. To hear him say that he wants to step up and be there, that’s a feeling she can’t really put into words.

“Can we uh — can I come in? Your neighbor is staring at me.” 

(Y/N) opens the door to let Jamie pass before leaning outside and facing the house next door. Sure enough, old Mrs. Hartley is standing by her window, eyes trained on (Y/N)’s front door. Jesus fucking Christ, do these people not have their own lives? 

The small pink couch looks even smaller with Jamie’s broad frame perched in the corner. He’s holding onto the fluffy white pillow as if he needs some kind of buoy to keep him afloat.

“Do you want tea or something?” 

“Do you have beer?” 

She only raises an eyebrow in response and points to her stomach. 

“Right. Pregnant. Forgot about that for a second, sorry. “

Oh, the privilege of getting to forget about that. 

“I have water, ginger ale, and apple juice.” 

Jamie screws his face in repulsion. If there is one thing she’s learned about Jamie Tartt in the limited time they’ve spent together, it’s that his emotions are always so clearly reflected on his face. She’s not sure he knows exactly how expressive he really is.

“I’m good. Here, I actually brought you some stuff.” 

As she sits down on the couch next to him, Jamie holds out a Tesco bag to her filled to the brim with stuff. 

“What’s all this?” 

He looks bashful, almost shy as he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. 

“Just some stuff for your nausea. Google said anything ginger helps so I got these lollies. Also sour candy and crackers. Not sure if it works but I felt so bad seeing you earlier and knowing it's kinda my fault, innit?."

It's such a sweet sentiment that (Y/N) can feel the tears gathering on her waterline. Maybe Jamie is the kind of person she can call when in need. Maybe he can become that person.

"That's very sweet Jamie, oh there's more."

It's a small box with two even smaller socks, so tiny it almost seems impossible that a human being can have such small feet. 

"Saw them and couldn't stop thinking about how cute they were and then I couldn’t stop imagining our baby being so tiny and wearing them and, yeah.” 

“They’re adorable, Jamie. Thank you.” 

His words wrap around her heart like vines. Taking root. Blooming. 

“Our baby”. The thought of having a baby is still so foreign to her. Her own baby, her child. Hearing Jamie call it theirs sends a flutter of feelings through her. Their baby. Part her and part Jamie.

“So what I meant earlier is that I don’t know shit about babies. None of my friends have babies, I have no siblings and all my cousins are around my age so I never really had experience with babies. I know they’re cute and I know they poop a lot. “

“They are pretty cute.”

“Yeah, and our baby?” he says and motions between the two of them “‘s gonna be the cutest fucking baby of all time. It’s genetics.”

The matter-of-fact tone in which he says it pulls a laugh from (Y/N). He does have a point though.

“I am not going to lie, I'm extremely unprepared for this. For being a — a dad.” 

There’s a bitterness there, a heaviness. Maybe Dad is as sharp and as cutting a concept to Jamie as Mum is to (Y/N). 

“Don’t have a dad. Well, I do but he’s right asshole, isn’t he. So I got no idea how to be good at this, had no one to show me. I’ll try though. I want to be different. I need to be. Promised myself when I was a kid that I was not going to be like him, ever.”

“I understand that, trust me Jamie I really do. But I need you to be sure that you want that. I don’t want you to stay around because of some misplaced sense of duty. I want you to want this.” 

"Didn't think I did. When you told me and you gave me an out I wanted to take it. But then I kept looking at that picture, can’t make out anything on it by the way but that doesn’t matter, I kept looking at it and that part of me. That's my baby and I couldn't live with meself if I gave up on it. On you. A lot of people have given up on me in my life and I resent them for it. I can't be the one giving up now, can I? I'm better than that."

She doesn't even realize the tears have found their way out until Jamie's face fills with concern. "Oh no, I didn't mean to make you cry or nothing."

"They're happy tears, I think. I'm really scared, Jamie. Knowing that I don't have to do this all by myself, that helps a bit."

"I promise I'll try to be the best at this. I'll even rub your feet if they're hurting and I fucking hate feet."

Leave it to Jamie to put the humor back into even the most serious and tense of conversations.

"You don't have to rub my feet, that's okay. I do think we should get to know each other better though, now that we're gonna be raising a child together. I know hardly anything about you."

"Uh, you know plenty about me. You know I'm fit, obviously. You know I have great hair. I'm good at football, fucking ace actually. Also sexually."

That little shit has the audacity to wink. it should be annoying. It's weirdly charming though.

"And now you also know that I'm gonna try my best to be good at this. Hey, when the baby is here can I get one of them kangaroo pouch thingies and take them to training with me?"

"Kangaroo pouch? You mean a baby carrier?"

"Yes, that! Strap it to my chest while I do my warm-up."

"You are not taking our baby to training with you, are you insane?"

"I'm joking, Jesus. Would look fucking cool though, maybe get us matching sunglasses. Hats too. Baby icon."

"Oh my god, you know what, maybe this is a bad idea after all."

But it's not, she doesn't mean that. Jamie knows it and (Y/N) knows that he knows. For the first time since those two lines appeared, it feels like she can breathe easy again if even just for a moment. Things will be hard, no doubt but at least she can share it with someone. And it's just an added bonus that someone never fails to put a smile on her face.

"What are you watching there anyway?" Jamie asks, nodding his head towards the tv.

"Grease 2."

"They made a second one? Is it good?"

"No, it's terrible. I love it."

"See," Jamie chimes up, a small genuine smile.on his lips "learned something new about you. The mother of my child loves bad movies. This getting to know each other plan is going so well already."

And while it is a joke, there's also a flicker of truth to it. It's the little things that make us who we are. Like our love for bad movies or our desire to be better than our parents before us.

"Do you wanna stay and watch it with me?"

"Can we start from the beginning?"

"Obviously"

"Then yes! Give me one of them ginger lollies please."

They spent the next few hours watching Grease 2 followed by the first because - well it's just right to watch them both, really. It doesn't feel forced or awkward. This is not two strangers trying to bond for the sake of their child. This is a genuine friendship in the making. It feels wonderful. They exchange numbers, birthdays, favorite colors. It’s all very superficial information but it’s a start and it’s easy. This whole situation is hard enough, sometimes easy is just what you need.

The clock says 12:03 when Jamie decides it's time to go home. 

Just as he is about to leave, one foot already out the door, he turns back with curious eyes.

"Do you know how big the baby is?"

"Uh, no. Pretty tiny I think."

"They didn't tell you what fruit size?"

"Fruit size?"

"Yeah like, it's as big as a strawberry now or something."

(Y/N) shakes her head in response "I think they mostly do that in American movies."

Jamie looks deflated for a fracture of a second before he lightens up again and one of those rare smiles takes over his face. The one that makes him look so boyish and excitable. Like a fucking golden retriever.

"That's okay. I'll find out."

"You do that. Let me know what you find. Have a good night Jamie."

"You too!" Then his eyes move to her stomach "And you too baby."

God, he can be so adorable it's absolutely sickening.

As she lays in bed, (Y/N) thinks back to just the night before. To the anxiety and the fear. To all the what-ifs that ghosted through her head. That seems like a whole lifetime ago and even though a lot of those fears are still present, they get overshadowed tonight. By the knowledge that she's not alone. And by the absolute sunshine that is Jamie Tartt. 

Just before she closes her eyes, her phone dings with a notification. 

Her hand comes to rest gently on her stomach. There’s no change there yet, absolutely no sign of a baby growing in there at this very moment. And yet she knows and that makes all the difference. 

In a voice, soft like silk, she whispers “Daddy says goodnight”. It’s cheesy, outright sickening but in the dark of the night, who is there to judge her for it? Sometimes you have to let yourself be ridiculous and cringy if your heart demands it.

That night she doesn't fall asleep to fear and anxiety. That night she falls asleep with a smile on her face. 

[seventeenlovesthree]

Going thoroughly insane over how on completely different ends Sora's and Koushirou's roles and relationships with their mothers (and in extension their parents in general) are portrayed in Adventure. And once again, it was ALL based on miscommunication:

Sora is perceived as the tradition-defying "tomboy" who is "loud" and plays football; Koushirou is perceived as the "good boy" who is always "polite and correct" and never acts spoilt or out of line. The key word here is "perceived", because we see both of them display traits in front of their peers that go beyond the "role" their parents witness (and that both of them are willingly or subconsciously displaying in front of them); Sora is actually the caring mom/big sister friend who literally and figuratively takes everyone under their wing, Koushirou is opinionated, forward and outspoken when things are dire and at stake.

Sora's mother wants her to act more like "the daughter of an ie-moto", more feminine, less out of line - at least, that is the message that reaches Sora, since her mother asks her to quit her beloved football. Her polite and aloof attitude appears to be rather cold and dismissive to Sora, which is basically what makes her rebel against the whole flower arrangement business. She feels unloved and misunderstood, as if she cannot be appreciated if she isn't "perfect" in her mother's eyes. Thus she is unable to understand that her mother may just worry about her hurting her injured leg even more. Furthermore, Sora has a very poor grasp on the fact that she herself is acting towards her friends and partner in the exact same way, albeit in a more gentle way most of the time.

Koushirou's mother wants him to be more selfish, to tell her what he dislikes and what bothers him, to stop being perfect at all times - but that is exactly what he physically cannot do, as he himself is doubting his whereabouts, who he is and where he belongs to after learning that he's adopted and simply tries to just shove all doubts and worries aside. Instead of acting "normal", he is hiding behind that barrier and mask of perfection towards his parents - and has to realize that this attitude is worrying them even more.

In the end, it all gets (mostly) resolved through them realizing that they're still loved regardless of what happened; they don't necessarily HAVE TO change, but it is up to them whether they want to or not. Meaning, their respective arcs of self-discovery have not ended yet, but the foundation for better relationships has been established here. Sora will start playing tennis (a.k.a changing her hobby) in an attempt to move towards her mother more, choosing to do so for her own sake. Koushirou will try to act more open and casual towards his parents, even though he is actively being reassured that his hobby (being into computers) is exactly what he is all about and that he doesn't have to change that.

[some-pers0n]

Okay fuck it Sunny disability metaphor time.

Sunny's arc is about her infantilization and being perceived as weak and incapable of greater feats due to her disabilities. Throughout the books, she's seen by others as being a nonthreat and unable to do so much as even lay a talon on another. Even by her closest friends and family, she's seen as somebody to protect. Somebody who cannot fend for themselves and is just a soft, optimistic soul in a cruel world.

Sunny was hatched without a barb and is significantly smaller than other dragons. Despite her still being capable of fire and able to go toe-to-toe with the other DoD members like Clay, she is often perceived as weaker and the "little sister" of the group that everyone needs to protect. They talk over her when planning and oftentimes. They don't consciously do this, they definitely don't mean any harm, but they are convinced that Sunny is powerless and inable to fully contribute to the group in the same way Starflight can with his intelligence or Tsunami with her strength.

Sunny doesn't like this. She's kind and gentle about it, but she is sick of being treated as a little kid. She's almost an adult by the time her book happens. For all of her life, she's been seen as a tiny little ankle-biter. Because of her disabilities, she's often held back and seen as less valuable of an asset to the group. By others outside of the DoD, she's seen as completely harmless (and in Scarlet and Burn's case, a perfect little subject to kill and put on display)

Her book is about her, for the first time, being alone without the DoD by her side. She's able to open her wings and fly freely. It comes after the heartbreak of the prophecy reveal, but she persists. She has hope for a future where she can still end the war.

I think it's why it's important that the first friendly face she saw in TBN was Six-Claws, a character who also has physical abnormalities. Somebody who was just like her in that sense. She's met somebody like her. A dragon hatched with things they had no control over. Despite all of the challenges and hardships he faced, Six-Claws is a well-respected dragon. Somebody who she herself looks up to.

Sunny spends the book struggling with how others perceive her. They think she's weak. Even Thorn, her mother, sees her as helpless and incapable of fending for herself. Though, over the course of the book, she eventually builds herself up in the eyes of those around her as a dragon more than competent enough to handle the situation presented to her.

By the end of the book, she's made her peace. She's told the DoD how she feels and, in turn, they respect her more. She doesn't hold anger towards them– she's not the type of soul to have grudges or be angry– but she is happy that they've changed for the better. She is capable. She should be taken as seriously as any other. She's, well, Sunny. Not some tiny baby to pity.

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - VII

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

The return to the Palace was gray and rainy, and you rode, the air tickled your nose with the familiar scent of wet grass and loam.  Spring back home smelled similar when the ice thawed enough to let the green blades peek through.  It lasted only a few weeks before everything froze over again, fleeting.  A knot formed in your chest as you stared out the carriage window, watching stretches of wildflowers and grass grow scarce, fingers of frost reaching as far as they could until all you saw was covered in snow again.

Your remaining time with your husband, who now sat across from you with a pen in one hand and a writing pad across a folded knee, was…

Well, not unpleasant but certainly far from romantic, given the circumstances of a loveless marriage to a deranged scientist who once said Ruin Guards parts were more valuable than human labor.  Being out of the capital was a nice change of pace but you were hardly under the impression this was nothing more than a means to an end. 

Even if you had enjoyed that kiss…

You tried not to dwell on the knowledge you passed along or what awaited you when you returned.  What was done was done.  Any attempt to broach the subject would, in your opinion, only leave you open to scrutiny. 

And Lord Dottore was a dog with no bite inhibition.  He was only satisfied when everything logically lined up and the answer was satisfactory enough to close all possible questioning.  Even then, he always found loopholes in the same way Lord Pantalone exploited every contract he wrote.

Your thoughts were broken by the man across from you clearing his throat, a sound that threw you back into your office over and over again every time he had a rebuttal for your questioning.  You turned your head to find him holding out a piece of paper.

“I need your opinion on something,” he said.

He wanted your input?  That was new.  He rarely ever solicited your thoughts; they were simply required for your employment and thus continued access to inside information.  Even the wedding had been a matter of you taking care of almost everything with little input from him.

Il Dottore asking for a second opinion that wasn’t his own was an impossibility.

You tried to keep your face neutral as you reached out and took the sheet of paper but your eyebrows shot to your hairline the further down you read.

“Is this a list?” you asked, incredulous as your head snapped back up to look at him.

Your husband gritted his teeth as he sneered at you, the air taken from beneath his wings. 

“How astute, dorogáya moya.  Yes, it’s a list.  Milestones most married pairs go through along with...a set of guidelines.”

“You hate guidelines,” you deadpanned.

More accurately, he hated your guidelines and rules when it came to what was an acceptable expense and what wasn’t.  That earned you a slight smile, all teeth and saccharine sweetness .   You were dancing on an edge you were intimately familiar with: one wrong word and you would tumble over. 

“One must know the rules in order to break them; that is quite different from my disdain for their enforcement.  While we managed the wedding well enough, we’ll have an uphill battle convincing the necessary parties, namely Pantalone.  He has a keen eye for detail as you’re no doubt aware.”

Your left thumb played with your wedding rings idly.  Little escaped Lord Pantalone’s attention for precisely the same reason: how could one exceed limitations of wealth and power if he did not perceive conventions and understand where the limitations for most laid?  Probably one of the many mutual understandings between the Second and the Ninth. 

Inhaling deeply, you slowly let out a breath through your nose as you looked down at the list again.

Propose

Have rings made

Wedding ceremony

Travel outside of work when schedule allows

Purchase property away from the Palace

Meet parents

Corresponding mugs

Attend event (public and private)

Have an argument

Pet names

Divorce eligible upon one-year anniversary when either party feels experiment has concluded.

All relatively normal, you supposed.  Your heart caught on numbers six and seven and you bit back a smile at the irony of it all.  Given your parents weren’t present at the ceremony, it only made sense to include the idea, although you could hardly imagine the man across from you in the cramped old-fashioned house.  After everything, you weren’t certain if they would be overly-welcoming or defensive; your mother’s letter had been full of congratulatory shock laced with remarks that they were getting by just fine.

You had, however, received a letter the morning after that abysmal chess match.  Your father’s handwriting was shaky, his once solid and smooth letters jittery and jagged.  He only mentioned that winter up north was not as ideal as predicted and that you and your husband were welcome once the storms cleared.  You knew better than to mistake the dark stain on the corner to be an ink splatter.

It was a matter you were saving for when you returned and knew your schedule.

And number seven…

How did he even know about that one?

“You can itemize in fifteen minutes and yet you made me suffer you and your Segments’ antics as though the process is like pulling teeth,” you remarked.  “Am I allowed to make suggestions?”

Instead of a response, Lord Dottore held out the capped pen.  It was still warm when you took it and uncapped it, mindful of the point.  You combed through, adding your thoughts as you assessed.  A few of your amendments were, perhaps, more selfish than practical, but if you were only going to be married once before you were eventually convicted of treason, well…

Commuting would pose a two-fold problem.  The first was purely logistical and the second was optics if he worked late too often. 

If he was set on the mugs, then tradition stood that they be handmade, which could be done when visiting your parents.  Usually spouses made the other’s, a continued symbol of providing warmth and sustenance.  In the capitol, and among the Fatui, it was more common to purchase pre-made ones; you favored the hand-crafted pieces your parents had, even if the handle on your father’s was a bit too unwieldy in your hand when you held it.

You added two new items: share one unique hobby with each other; no inebriation or use of narcotics or other substances.

Lastly, you amended the last item with the condition that the divorce settlement scaled with the length of marriage.

“Living outside of the Palace means commuting, with the additional optics problem of you working late, as is inevitable,” you started, capping the pen and returning both it and the paper to your husband.  “And we will be at a loss to discuss each other should someone ask about details; we should continue to try to be…meaningful with one another.  Chess is a start.”

Negotiations were not precisely your forte, which was one of the reasons you remained in your position at the Palace and only traveled a handful of times.  Your sense of scale was not ideal and after seeing your family get the short end of the stick, you did not want to be additionally responsible for failing to meet specific goals.  That was what civil lawyers were for, in your opinion.

But as the carpet in your office attested, Lord Dottore did not like simple-minded individuals who took everything at face value.  Your job was to manage his accounts while also protecting his interests and those of Lord Pantalone, of the Tsaritsa, in the process.  Your husband was, as you learned over the years, one who enjoyed any and all challenges placed before him. 

Even if those challenges were just looking through his itemized receipts and asking why he needed thousands of mora more than what his materials were valued at.  He would owe more money during annual audits if he did not mind his expense reports and neither of them needed that headache, did they?

“It may not always be possible for me to return for a meal or have the time to dedicate.  If this is a matter of not wanting to be alone, I can send a Segment in my place,” Dottore offered.

“This is a matter of our colleagues believing we care for another,” you replied smoothly.  “Was it not you who said this entire thing needs to be beyond believable?”

He gave a hum as he continued to read, his hand making two corrections.

“The only instances for inebriation would be for an experiment.  And the divorce settlement will include rights to properties and other assets.  Best to cover all bases.  Does that sound fair enough to you, Accountant?”

It was not like he was giving you much of a choice.  The generosity with the settlement was unnerving and you narrowed your eyes at him as he continued to speak.

"I concede that your point about optics still stands.  If I am unable to make a meal, you’ll be notified discreetly,” your husband said, tucking away the list.  “Many will expect you to stop working due to your change in position.”

“Do you?”

Lord Dottore’s lips curled, absolutely offended as though he ate something foul. 

“Work is how one keeps a sharp mind.  But you should be prepared for Pantalone and several others to attempt to make it happen, one way or another.  If that occurs, my only expectations would be to manage expenses on my behalf; as you do now, except on the other side of the desk as my representative.  Living outside of the Palace would afford you more freedom.”

What an odd turn of phrase, you thought.  Why would you need more freedom?

But if you were not working, that meant you would be reliant on him for money.  You couldn’t not work.  In the event you were still able to smuggle information and be paid, that kind of activity when you were actively not employed would put a target on both of your backs for an audit.  And then your income would be questioned. 

Lord Dottore did not take kindly to liars and cheats who wronged him. 

And you very much valued your life.

Bad enough you had to trust him with your well-being and assume he had no reason to harm you.  Your parents thought the same about the loans from Northland; the terms were clear and everything was projected to be affordable. 

That was a dangerous thing, trusting a Fatuus.

“I could not be solely reliant on your generosity,” you replied.  “Even if it was not at the Palace, I would still work elsewhere, if only for my parents.  I could not rightly expect you to cover that expense.” 

“As I said, work is one keeps a sharp mind.  You and I are on the same page, I assure you, but I would not keep additional assets from you if you had need of them.”

You nodded but felt a dangerous shift nonetheless.  His kindness was not true, genuine kindness, born of the usual desire to help someone.  After all, this was the man who stormed into your office and proposed as though he was telling you about the weather outside.

Lord Dottore set aside the writing pad and stretched his legs out, resting his boots on the seat next to you.  He was so tall that such a position was his only option.

“Speaking of your parents, have you heard from them?” he asked, head tilted slightly.

His tone was casual enough but something in the way he asked felt off to you.  You dared not think he cared enough to bother giving such a sentiment much thought.  Perhaps he recognized a relevant duty to keep you safe, to check in with you on such things.

Either one required what you were not quite willing to give.

You nodded, eyes lingering on the frigid landscape for a second as you collected yourself. 

“I did.  They extended an offer to go stay with them when the weather up north clears a bit.  My father always gets worse in winter, he would make for poor company right now.”  Your thoughts earlier came back and you continued.  “The artisans up north have great workshops nearby.  We can take care of items six and seven in the same trip when schedules allow for it.  My parents haven’t had company other than me in years.  I’m sure they’ll be overjoyed to entertain a Fatui Harbinger.”

“They hardly need to stand on ceremony.  I would prefer if they did not.”

“I’ll tell them as such when I write them back,” you said.  “They may not listen but never let it be said I did not try.”

“What does he suffer from?”

“He caught one of the variants of influenza some time ago and never fully recovered.  He worked the mines as a child, which, as everyone knows, causes long-term respiratory problems, among other things; his body was ill-equipped to begin with.”

He’d never quite been the same, even though the local physician said he should consider himself lucky to be alive.  What good was that, he used to say, when he could no longer tend to his business and try though you might have, the books were never quite even again?

Nevermind when the debt collectors showed up the first time and ransacked what little you had stashed away.

Something crossed over your husband’s face and you only caught the tail-end of it as his lips pursed in thought. 

Your right hand fell to your left and you played with your rings idly, pulling and pushing them over your first knuckle.  Overall, such a meeting would likely be fine, mild even.  They never made a scene at the bank, after all; they were not about to start now in front of the Second Harbinger when such a thing would put their daughter’s life in danger.

But such a thing meant ingratiating Lord Dottore into your life.  Into your family.

As though the two of you cared.

Which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

[desafinado]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ confessing to them hcs

i swear i’m stronger than these emotions, but they’re taking over me

°｡⋆ alhaitham, kazuha, kaeya x reader

°｡⋆ fluff, alhaitham a bit ooc bc i haven’t finished sumeru storyline, kaeya’s has a twinge of angst, overall very ouch (in a good way)

note: ahhhh kazuha’s is my favorite one in this batch… and ik alhaitham might be a bit very ooc, but i like the idea of him becoming more shy and moving delicately around your feelings once he notices he has that effect on you.

(diluc, zhongli, kaveh,) | (alhaitham, kazuha, kaeya)

alhaitham ♡

how do you have the courage to jump off a cliff without any wings? that was basically how you summarised the conundrum of talking to alhaitham.

you only really saw him in passing, seeing him pass the corridors, eating in the cafeteria, out in port ormos. 

you never bothered to approach him other than for work, but despite some of the negative rumours about his attitude, your interactions with him were quite pleasant.

“you have my sincerest thanks for your insights. i trust you’ve been well?” “y-yes…” “and, you’re okay, right now…?” “a-ah, yes!”

over time you grew accustomed to his surprisingly amicable disposition towards you, but you could never quite be the first one to approach him.

it was weird, because you could interact with everyone else just fine. you were someone who took initiative amongst your peers, but also handled affairs with a gentle and understanding touch.

anyways, he continued watching out for you. in meetings he’d send a glance your way every now and then as if he was only talking to you, he’d also pass by your office after hours with some tea.

you put it off as him being good at his job, making sure everyone’s functioning and productive. hell, that was what drew you to him in the first place, why you were so scared to strike up a conversation with him.

you admired all his authority, hard work and efforts… i mean his genius was an amazing thing to witness.

so, it only made sense that you'd rather him perceive you as a meek background character than a bumbling flustered idiot.

that all changed, however, when he asked you for insights and advice regarding "emotions" and being a bit more cautious of others’ feelings.

you don't know why he asked you, and frankly you didn't really care. you just wanted to help him the best you could.

"how about this? your ideas are intriguing, but…" "ohh, good so far!" "they could desperately use some fine tuning." "just uh remove the desperately part, and you’ll be set."

to be honest, he doesn't even follow your suggestions half the time, but you being there instantly lightens the mood by 50%.

you saw him in a bit of a different light after then; he was still a genius, of course, but you saw parts of him you’d never expect to see otherwise, and you loved him much more for it. 

you hoped it wasn’t obvious in the way you shared a bit too much about your day with him or how you’d let your hand stay on the small of his back a little longer than necessary.

ironically enough, he was the one who got a bit more shy towards you, though much more present. instead of announcing his presence and letting himself into your office with some tea, you’d find him knocking quietly waiting for your affirmation.

he was acting a bit more soft and gentle, as if he had been defeated and something sent him running.

you were quick to catch up in this attitude change of his, as it was even seeping into his attitude with others (“that man…alhaitham… being soft???”). you knew nobody else was brave enough to ask, so you might as well do it yourself.

once again, a delicate knock played itself against the door to office. you looked up at your paperwork, an amused sigh escaping your lips. “come in, alhaitham.”

you heard some shuffling before the door opened to reveal the man, himself; his eyes weren’t completing darting around, but you definitely notice the way they almost restrained themself from looking at you. he closes the door before sitting before your desk; he sets a cup of tea in front of you.

“for you. i know you’ve been a bit more busy lately, the recent changes in the akademiya surely contributing to that.”

you chuckle softly, earning a raised eyebrow from him. “what’s funny?” his voice was firm and slightly rushed, like he needed you to answer right away. you shake your head and pick up the cup between your palms. “you say that as if you don’t bring me tea every day anyways.”

“i do, don’t i?” he looks down and mumbles faintly, rubbing the back of his neck. his bashful gesture only eggs you on further to ask what exactly is going on with him. you take a quick sip of your tea before probing him.

“so, you gonna tell me what’s been up with you lately?”

“ah, you’ve noticed.”

“of course, i think i’d be a bad friend if i didn’t notice.” you watch his embarrassed smile curve into a childish pout. you know it shouldn’t, but it only makes your cheshire smile grow wider. “by now, you should know you could never be such… anyways, if you’ve noticed the shift, i guess there’s no hiding it.” you put down your cup, bracing yourself for whatever revelation comes next.

“i guess i just wanted to accommodate you better. i know you were quite shy when talking to me initially, and you do seem much more comfortable around me now.”

you hum in acknowledgement, knowing he has a bit more to share. he was always like this, sharing only what he deemed necessary, but you always knew he had more, you just had to give him that space.

“you look better like this, spending more time with me. uh i mean, i like seeing you unafraid of my presence, being curt with me. i…”

he finally meets your eyes, and you’re entranced by that look. your head starts to feel dizzy as you focus on the vision of him to keep you grounded. “oh, alhaitham… you d-don’t need to dance around my feelings, i…” 

his eyes widen, and he quickly grabs your hand; you’re shocked by his touch, but you’re certainly not deterred by it. if anything, it’s only helping you process whatever is going on.

“i don’t want to lose you, dear, isn’t that obvious? i don’t care what those others think, as long as it means that you’re still standing by my side.”

“a-alhaitham, wait i–”

“you love me, correct?”

you freeze up, pondering if this was still reality; if alhaitham had really known and if you were really faced with the task of answering such a question. you suppose you should’ve known, nothing ever really gets past him.

“i didn’t know how to approach it, that’s why i— you already know i’m not best with those sorts of things. all i knew is that i couldn't lose you over it; i didn’t want to upset you, i didn’t want to overwhelm you. i couldn’t bear to watch your adoration turn into hatred and angst, especially when all my flaws became more apparent.”

your free hand caresses his cheek, trying to brush away his fears. “alhaitham… if you knew i loved you, you should’ve also known that i love you just the way you are. knowing you better, i only fell harder, and… if we’re being honest, i don’t think i could ever hate you.”

he looks up at you, the desperation is clear. “neither could i… i mean, i believe my feelings for you are obvious now, so would you like to give it a try? loving me, i mean. ” your eyes crinkle and smile from eye to eye. 

“let me love you, and i shall.”

kazuha ♡

spring was always your favourite season, but kazuha’s presence made it all the better.

hanami: flower viewing, usually done during cherry blossom season.

hanami-zake: sake specifically for hanami; fallen cherry blossom/s are typically immersed in the sake.

you could listen to his mellow voice for days on end, short haikus and poems whispered amidst the pollen in the spring air.

you were friends for the longest time, and after a few cold years in inazuma, you had finally met again without any worries, care for time or need for secrecy.

before he had escaped away, you both hung around the same small group of friends.

one of your favourite memories was participating in hanami with them; perhaps it was the bare beauty of the flowers or the intoxicating hanami-zake, but you both especially enjoyed each other’s company far too much during this period.

tangents about how beautiful life and nature is, ramblings of small yet imaginative ideas you both, and simply basking in what the tomorrow could possibly bring.

this of course changed with the death of your mutual friend, and it seemed like you were the only one standing by and holding out hope for the kazuha. everyone else had left, either too scared, angry or hopeless.

you definitely did feel pity for his situation, but that wasn’t why you didn’t abandon him. 

you trusted him, his will, and his actions, and a big part of you wanted to believe that he would come back a hero to inazuma.

once he caught wind of this, he started exchanging letters with you, appreciative of your trust in him, and frankly, he could use a familiar friend.

while you both addressed the elephant in the room, you mostly talked about your feelings. you shared your sadness, anxieties, grievances, and small moments of happiness.

you could talk to him about anything, as he could; you quickly became a dear friend to him, a reminder that someone had seen all of him and still trusted him.

you didn’t fully understand it at the time, but you so painfully yearned to hold his hand and give him all the affection he deserved.

letters turned to secret meetings in the dock, and secret meetings eventually turned back into normal ones; his name being cleared and inazuma welcoming him with open arms.

the day he came back and you saw the most precious smile you could imagine to see, that was when you fell hard. a few other people got to him first, but you didn’t mind. the view of him getting the praise he deserved was delightful.

“don’t forget about me, now that you’re a great hero…” “i… i could never!”

you were only teasing, but the moment his head turned to find you. he ran towards you and pulled you into the warmest of hugs, even raising you up.

it felt different, different from all the other times at least. it made your heart race, your face flush and your fingers tremble ever so slightly.

it was a few days into your catching up with one another, when you decided to bring up these strange, unnecessary, but almost enjoyable feelings.

“zuha?” 

he hummed in acknowledgement, gazing at the clouds,. your head lay on his lap as you both rested in the middle of a field. there were a few clouds, but the sun still shone bright upon you, the both of you.

“i have some… feelings i need to share.”

he looked back down, raising an eyebrow. you both never really shied away from talking about such in letters, so he was quick to note the uncertainty in your voice. “oh? share away.”

you swallowed a lump in your throat before speaking; it wasn’t as though you were revealing some scandalous secret, so you didn’t understand why your body was acting the way it did.

“i’ve been having some feelings for you recently.”

kazuha almost choked on his own saliva, hearing you be so straightforward. sure, he recognised the ambiguity in your voice, but he certainly did not expect this. he was a bit shy, but did want to express that he returned such feelings. “o-ooh! that-t’s… um…”

“it uh makes me uncomfortable.”

for the second time, the shock is more than apparent in his face. he’s horrified by your admissions and his own actions; he’s frozen in place, sputtering out apologies. “a-ah, i’m sorry! let me just get that and y-you can stand up and-”

“kazuha, wait a minute.” you chuckle, brushing the flower chain off your face and onto the grass below. you lightly take his hands, intertwining his finger in yours; your grip is firm, but not by any means, rough. he quickly realises you’re trying to calm him down, and he lets you do so.

“i didn’t mean it like that. i meant like… its as though i’m running a marathon whenever we hang out. it isn’t negative feeling, but it is a new one.”

you speak slowly, squeezing his hand at every other word. you’ve never seen him this way, a flustered and bumbling mess, but it is quite a cute sight; something you wouldn’t mind seeing again. fortunately for him, you do have enough courtesy to help him calm his heart.

“ah, i see.” his breath evens out, and he lets out a sigh of relief. for a moment there, he really thought you were revealing your annoyance and/or hatred for him. after processing your words, he has a good idea of what’s really going on. he gives you a kind smile and squeezes your hand in response.

“hmm… could you describe it further, darling?”

“ah.”

you let out a small squeak at his nickname; he’s called you it before in letters so you don’t know why you’re being so bashful about it. you feel a blush spread across and wish you simply fade into the wall.

“like right now, actually… i… when y-you call me such things, touch me in certain ways.” his gaze on you only softens as you continue speaking so timidly; on the other hand, you want to turn away, bury your face in the grace, but you want to get your point across. “t-the way you’re looking at me, right now.” your voice comes out a bit quieter, but all the same to kazuha.

“hmm… i think i understand how you’re feeling. just one more thing…”

he asks inches his face closer to yours, lips above yours, as though it was the sun’s light grazing the grass.

“would you perhaps want to kiss me right now, darling?”

you nod a little too excitedly, any self-restraint you had flying out into the sunset. you’ve never really considered it, but the mere mention of the idea seems really good. he lets out another quiet chuckle, you can feel it against your cheek.

“then i think what you’re feeling is love; love for me to be more specific. you need me to give you an example of my love for you?”

kaeya ♡

it all started when you both ended it. you argued day and night about the smallest things; you suppose that the stress from work and transitioning into adulthood had taken its toll on you both.

since then, there was only one thing you both agreed on, and that was how you would be very much better off without each other.

you cried, a lot. it was a mix of sadness and frustration. 

sadness, because you genuinely did love him, you wanted to make him happy. frustration, because you never did make him happy, you knew he’d be better off without you.

if love was the only thing needed to sustain a relationship, maybe you wouldn’t be here, but life got in the way and you both had greater ambitions. under all that fighting, you knew that you just didn’t want to hold each other back.

you knew you couldn’t stay when that pain was so fresh, you needed to clear your head. you moved away for a bit, planning to return in two years time.

and those two years passed by quietly, until you found yourself being welcomed back to monstadt.

only, it seemed your feelings for kaeya had only grown more complicated as you watched him bloom.

he thrived without you, he had grown to be quite a noble captain, charming everyone from children to grandparents. he was someone the whole community could rely on, someone who strived to do good for the welfare of everyone.

because of this, it was pretty hard to miss him. whether it was his name being the subject of tavern gossip or your observant eyes spotting him in the shadows, you just couldn’t avoid him.

you’d scoff, roll your eyes, do anything to show you didn’t care, but it was clear that you cared enough to perk up when you heard his name.

you were so proud of him and the person he’d become. it was safe to say that you remembered why you’d fallen in the first place, that playful smile, moonlight blue eyes, and inviting familiar warmth.

your memory of meeting him was blurred by adrenaline, he had approached you noticing you were awfully quiet among everyone else. he made conversation with you, making you laugh within a minute. you opened up, he did the same. you trusted him as he did you.

right now though, you were falling harder this time around. you intended to deny it though, deny it until it broke you.

today, you were having a busy day, visiting old friends, seeing all the new sights you had missed out on, when you saw him approaching you.

you knew you weren’t equipped to handle whatever it was he had to say; you didn’t need to hear it.

you ran, letting the adrenaline take you far far away, and soon enough you found yourself by the monstadt lake. the wind was blowing as fiercely as your heartbeat.

you tried to squat down to catch your breath, but your tiredness got the best of you and misstepped.

bracing for a cold splash into the lake, you closed your eyes and let gravity take its course; only that coldness came in another form.

“you’re being dramatic, you know that?~”

he chuckled, arms around your waist quite snuggly. sure, you had been fantasising about him holding you like this, but it wasn’t welcomed at the moment. he pulled you back up to some even land before letting you go. you huffed and crossed your arms, not in the mood to deal with his cheekiness. your eyes never met his as you spoke up. “what do you want?”

he feigned hurt, dramatically placing a hand against his forehead. “so cold, dear. not even a thank you, how are you, or hello.”

you were quickly reaching your boiling point, so you decided to step away before things could escalate any further. before you could take another step, however, he gently grabbed your wrist; you looked up at him, eyes wide, and it seemed that he was surprised by his actions as well. his touch was as cold as the last time you met, but this coldness now felt much more like frostbite.

his eyes darted up into your eyes and back down to your wrist before he let you go, flinching away. a faint blush spread across his cheeks, one you certainly could not see under the moonlight. “sorry, i– you dropped this.”

he hastily fished out a key from his pocket; it was your house key. the moment you recognised it, you wanted to fall over in embarrassment; maybe you did deserve to be in the cold waters. he was right after all, and you were being dramatic. you looked down at his palm and hesitantly took it from his hands, as he explained further.

“you dropped it by ms. blanche’s shop.”

“thank you.” your voice was soft, almost inaudible; a stark contrast to your initial hostility. kaeya frowned, watching your timid movements. “do you hate me that much?”

your swiftly looked back up at him, the hurt in his expression was more than clear and genuine, at least from what you could tell. “no. i… i just–”

“after these past couple of years, i was excited to see you again, dear.” his voice falters as he tries to push through his own self-disappointment. “i-i didn’t realise i hurt you that much, that you didn’t want anything to do with me.” he sighs, finding the courage to look into your eyes; he’s a coward in that moment though and his fears and insecurities are eating him up.

you pity him, and you know you’re starting to succumb to defeat.  “you don’t scare me, kaeya. its… its my feelings for you that scare me.”

“is it that strong? you really fear you might hurt me or—”

“it’s not hatred, kaeya.”

that takes him by surprise, and his thoughts start running miles per minute. “sadness? disappointment? frustration? please, i need to know, please.” his voice is almost cracking at this point, eyes glassy. he gently takes your hands in an attempt to plead with you to set him free.

you never were the best at denying him, and you thought you’d set yourself free too.

“it’s love, kaeya, it’s… i still love you, and i’m afraid it’s striking me harder this time. look how far you’ve come without me.” at that fact, you find hot tears running down your cheek. “i’m happy to see you so happy, kaeya. it just hurts that i missed it.”

“i’m not. i’m…” he’s taken aback, but he tries to articulate himself. he takes your cheeks into his palms, gently guiding your gaze to his eyes. “i was lying earlier, you know? saying i was excited to see you was an understatement, dear. i missed you everyday, i wondered if you were doing fine without me,  and seeing you come back, having seemed to forget me i just…”

“kaeya…”

“can we start back just before things went wrong? can you give me… can you give us another chance?”

it’s that same desperate look as his touch softens and he waits for a response. despite your trembling from the rush of emotions, you feel that things can’t be clearer. you acted fast to meet his lips, giving him your decisive response. it was a simple truth that had never left you, even as you left him; you always loved kaeya alberich, and now, you knew he loved you just the same.

requests are open!! please do not reposts on other sites.

[secretmellowblog]

When I say "Victor Hugo's depiction of Jean Valjean's grief over losing Cosette is a reflection of Hugo's own grief at the death of his daughter" I'm not just theorizing-- some lines from Les Mis are basically just ripped word-for-word from Hugo's poems about the death of his daughter. Here are a few of them. Leopoldine drowned horribly with her husband only a few months after they were married; she was only nineteen. Jean Valjean's paralyzing fear of Cosette's marriage, his misguided useless rage at her husband, and his violent grief over losing her and never being able to see her again, is heavily influenced by Hugo's own grief. I have trouble finding good English translations of some of Hugo’s Leopoldine poems online, and would appreciate better links to English translations if anyone has them. But In A Villequier, one of Hugo's poems addressing God with furious grief over the death of Leopoldine, he writes:

Consider again how I have, since dawn, Worked, fought, thought, walked, struggled, Explaining Nature to Man who knew nothing of it, Lighting everything with your clarity; That, facing hate and anger, I have done my task here below, That I could not expect this wage, That I could not Foresee that you too, on my yielding head, Would let fall heavily your triumphant arm, And that you who saw how little joy I have, Would take my child away so quickly!

Which is almost word for word just Jean Valjean's:

I have left my blood on every stone, on every bramble, on every mile-post, along every wall, I have been gentle, though others have been hard to me, and kind, although others have been malicious, I have become an honest man once more, in spite of everything, I have repented of the evil that I have done and have forgiven the evil that has been done to me, and at the moment when I receive my recompense, at the moment when it is all over, at the moment when I am just touching the goal, at the moment when I have what I desire, it is well, it is good, I have paid, I have earned it, all this is to take flight, all this will vanish, and I shall lose Cosette, and I shall lose my life, my joy, my soul....

And this from the same poem:

I keep seeing that moment in my life when I saw her open her wings and fly off! I will see that instant until I die, the instant, no tears needed! where I cried: the child I had a minute ago— What? I don’t have her any more?

Is a similar sentiment to this angelic description of Cosette “taking flight” away from Jean Valjean:

Cosette, as she took her flight, winged and transfigured, left behind her on the earth her hideous and empty chrysalis, Jean Valjean.

And the moment when Jean Valjean realizes she’s in love with Marius, and has been “lost” to him without him realizing it:

The unprecedented and heart-rending thing about it was that he had fallen without perceiving it. All the light of his life had departed, while he still fancied that he beheld the sun.

This from the poem Demain dès l'aube, where Victor Hugo describes visiting Leopoldine's grave:

I will walk with my eyes fixed on my thoughts, Without seeing anything outside, without hearing any noise, Alone, unknown, back bent, hands crossed, Sad, and the day for me will be like night.

And Jean Valjean walking to Cosette's house, but never able to enter or speak to her:

There [Jean Valjean] walked at a slow pace, with his head strained forward, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, his eye immovably fixed on a point which seemed to be a star to him

This bit where Hugo talks about his faith weakening/cursing God in vain after Leopoldine’s death:

Consider how one doubts, O God! when one suffers, how the eye that weeps too much is blinded, how a being plunged by grief into the blackest pit, seeing you no more, cannot contemplate you.

Is similar to Jean Valjean’s spirtual self weakening and his consience “taking flight” at the idea of losing Cosette:

Any one who had beheld his spiritual self would have been obliged to concede that it weakened at that moment. (...) Grief, when it attains this shape, is a headlong flight of all the forces of the conscience. These are fatal crises. Few among us emerge from them still like ourselves and firm in duty.

Victor Hugo agonizing over his dreams of growing old with his daughter in A Villequier:

You make loneliness return always around all his footsteps.(...) As soon as he owns something, fate takes it away. Nothing is given to him, in his speedy days, for him to make a home and say: Here is my house, my field and my loved ones!

Jean Valjean:

“As one family! No. I belong to no family. I do not belong to yours. I do not belong to any family of men. In houses where people are among themselves, I am superfluous. There are families, but there is nothing of the sort for me. I am an unlucky wretch; I am left outside.

Victor Hugo's poetry in A Villequier again:

in the midst of cares, hardships, miseries, and of the shadow our fate casts over us, how a child appears, a dear sacred head, a small joyful creature, so beautiful one thinks a door to heaven has opened when it arrives; when for sixteen years one has watched this other self grow in loveable grace and sweet reason, when one has realized that this child one loves makes daylight in our soul and in our home,

Jean Valjean:

this man, who had passed through all manner of distresses, who was still all bleeding from the bruises of fate, (...) merely asked of Providence, of man, of the law, of society, of nature, of the world, one thing, that Cosette might love him! That Cosette might continue to love him! That God would not prevent the heart of the child from coming to him, and from remaining with him! Beloved by Cosette, he felt that he was healed, rested, appeased, loaded with benefits, recompensed, crowned. Beloved by Cosette, it was well with him! He asked nothing more! Had any one said to him: “Do you want anything better?” he would have answered: “No.” God might have said to him: “Do you desire heaven?” and he would have replied: “I should lose by it.”

Victor Hugo begging God to talk to his daughter again:

Let me lean over this cold stone and say to my child: Do you feel that I am here? Let me speak to her, bent over her remains, in the evening when all is still, as if, reopening her celestial eyes in her night, this angel could hear me!

Jean Valjean thanking God for letting him speak to Cosette one more time:

The good God says: “‘You fancy that you are about to be abandoned, stupid! No. No, things will not go so. Come, there is a good man yonder who is in need of an angel.’

I think the ending of Les Mis never made complete sense to me until I realized that Jean Valjean isn't grieving like a parent who has watched their child grow up; he is grieving like a parent who has just watched their child die.