#with cozy armchairs and an open fire

[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗦 𝗟𝗜𝗞𝗘 𝗚𝗜𝗥𝗟𝗦 𝗔𝗡𝗗 𝗕𝗢𝗬𝗦

　　　　　　　𝒄𝒉𝒓𝒊𝒔 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x bi!reader

SUMMARY: Where Y/N faces a journey of self-discovery when questioning her sexuality. Fearing rejection, she is reluctant to reveal her truth to Chris, her boyfriend. But with the help of Nick, Y/N finds the courage to finally come out as bisexual.

WARNING: None.

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

Y/N found herself in a moment of deep introspection, a journey of self-discovery that led her to confront truths that had long been kept within her.

Sitting in her favorite armchair, in her cozy bedroom lit only by the soft light of a bedside lamp, she found herself immersed in tumultuous thoughts.

Since a few months ago, something inside her had started to change. Small sparks of doubt had turned into an uncontrollable fire of questioning. Y/N, who had always considered herself heterosexual, now found herself slipping through the choppy waters of sexual uncertainty.

It was difficult to name exactly when it all started. Maybe it was that long look at the pretty girl who crossed her path in the cafe, or maybe it was the sudden intensity of feelings she felt while watching a romantic movie in which the protagonist couple were two girls.

These experiences, seemingly insignificant at the moment, now echoed within her like a deafening echo. And the more Y/N tried to ignore these feelings, the more intense they became, like a relentless tide that was dragging her towards the truth she wasn't ready to accept.

She looked at Chris, a kind and caring boy who had won her heart a few years ago. They were inseparable, sharing big dreams, secrets, and plans for a future together. But now, an abyss opened between them, an abyss fueled by the confusion and fear that Y/N carried within her.

The fear of rejection, of judgment, of change. She didn't want to hurt her boyfriend, but she also couldn't deny her growing awareness of her own identity. She wondered if he would be able to accept her completely. Would he still love her the same way when he knew the truth about her sexuality?

Y/N found herself tormented by vivid images of an uncertain future, where she was alone. She feared that revealing her bisexuality would trigger a chain reaction of events that would lead to their inevitable breakup.

She found herself turning over scenarios in her mind, rehearsing the words she would need to say to Chris, but never finding enough courage to truly face her truth.

The nights became long and lonely as Y/N spiraled into self-questioning. She read articles, sought answers in the far reaches of the internet, and desperately tried to fit into a clear definition of who she was.

She lost count of how many times she watched the video on her boyfriend and his brothers' channel, where Nick told his story of coming out to his family, trying to find some direction or inspiration.

Until she understood that there was no point in remaining closed off like she was doing. Chris was increasingly worried, filling her with questions when they were together and messages when they were away, while Nick and Matt tried to understand the situation and help both sides - that of a best friend and that of a brother.

And seeing the desperation in Chris's eyes again when he facetimed her that morning - while on his way to a photoshoot with Matt - made her finally make the decision to seek real help.

And who better to do this than Nick, who was openly gay and had gone through his own journey of self-discovery?

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

With her heart racing, Y/N knocked on Nick's bedroom door after entering the triplets' house with her own key. She wondered if she was doing the right thing by seeking his guidance, but an insistent inner voice was pushing her forward, telling her it was time to confront her fears and uncertainties head on.

Nick opened the door with an excited smile, having already been notified minutes before through a text message that she was on her way, his welcoming eyes conveying an instant sense of comfort. He opened the door wider, giving Y/N space to enter, turning around and returning to his gaming chair, Y/N finding herself surrounded by the relaxed atmosphere instantly.

"Hey girl!" Nick greeted, his voice carrying a tone of euphoria. "What do you want to do today?"

Y/N swallowed, feeling a lump form in her throat. Nick probably thought she had gone to his house to spend time together - which wasn't a lie - completely unaware of the matter at hand.

"Actually, I need to talk to you about something important." Y/N began, her voice wavering with built-up tension as she walked with shaky steps towards the bed. "It's about.. my sexuality."

Nick nodded understandingly, pointing to the mattress with his chin, inviting her to sit there, and turning his body on the chair so that he was facing her. He quickly sent her a compassionate look, encouraging her to continue.

"I've been... thinking lately." The girl continued, carefully choosing her words. "And I think I'm... bisexual."

A wave of relief swept over Y/N as she finally voiced the truth she had been keeping inside herself for so long. Nick smiled gently, looking genuinely happy for her.

"Oh my God, this is amazing, Y/N!" Nick's voice was overflowing with support and encouragement. "Discovering and accepting your true sexuality is an incredibly brave step, I'm so proud of you!"

Y/N felt tears of gratitude bubble up in her eyes. She could never have imagined such a positive and loving reaction, despite him not being heterosexual himself.

"Thank you, Nick..." She sniffled, wiping the tears from her eyes in a quick movement, letting out a low laugh. "But I'm... I'm scared to tell Chris." Y/N said, her eyes lowering to her thighs and her voice cracking with anxiety. "I don't know how he will react, and I'm so afraid of losing him."

Nick sighed, getting up from his seat and walking over to his bed before sitting next to the girl, pulling her into a big hug and resting his head on top of hers, conveying a feeling of calm and security.

“Y/N, I understand this is scary.” He began, his voice soft like a comforting whisper. "But if there's one thing I've learned on my own journey, it's that being true to yourself is the most important thing we can do. And if Chris truly loves you, he will accept you for who you are, no matter your sexual orientation."

Nick's words echoed in Y/N's mind, filling her with courage and determination. She knew that she could no longer postpone the moment of coming out to Chris, he was one of the most important people in her life - if not the most important - and keeping that from him was being a martyrdom for her.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

Y/N's heart hammered hard against her chest as she prepared to take the bravest step of all: telling Chris about her bisexual identity.

She found herself in front of him, in her own room, watching him with a mixture of nervousness and determination while searching for the right words to express what she was feeling.

Chris looked back at her with his extremely blue eyes carrying gentle and loving emotions, his face lit up with a warm smile that always made Y/N's heart melt. He held her right hand, conveying a comforting sense of silent support.

"What is happening, gorgeous?" Chris asked softly, his voice thick with concern. "You said you needed to talk to me, and you seem nervous. Did I do something?"

Y/N's eyes widened at his deduction, shaking her head quickly.

"No! No, of course not, baby." She took a deep breath, gathering all the courage she had within herself. "It's just... There's something I need to tell you." Y/N began, her voice trembling slightly as her breath came raggedly, her cold fingers trembling between his. "It's about my... sexuality."

Chris's eyes widened slightly in surprise, he hadn't really expected the conversation to be about that - the possibility hadn't even crossed his mind - but he remained silent, waiting for Y/N to continue.

"I've been struggling with this for some time." The girl continued after a few seconds, carefully choosing her words. "And I realized that... I'm bisexual."

The silence that followed seemed to echo around them, filling the space between the two with palpable tension. Y/N held her breath, waiting for Chris's reaction, her heart beating wildly and her posture falling almost automatically, as if a weight was put on her shoulders.

And then, finally, Chris broke the silence. His eyes ran over Y/N's features with a gaze full of love and understanding, a tender smile curving his lips.

"Oh my baby, I have no words to describe the honor of you sharing this with me. Thank you for trusting me." His voice sounded soft like a comforting whisper. "I want you to know that I love you exactly the way you are, and nothing will change that... I'm so proud of you!"

Tears of relief and gratitude welled up in Y/N's eyes as she threw herself into her boy's welcoming arms, feeling overwhelmed by an overwhelming wave of love and acceptance, a sob escaping her lips.

"I was so scared of losing you." Y/N admitted, her voice cracking from crying. "You really are the love of my life, huh?" She let out a tearful laugh, wiping away the lone tear that rolled down her cheek.

Chris hugged her back tightly, pulling her into his lap in a quick movement and wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing their chests together and burying his head in the crook of her neck, enveloping her in a comforting warmth that seemed to melt away all her worries and fears.

The boy sealed the exposed skin gently before pulling away slightly, cupping her face gently in his hands, looking into her eyes with an intensity that made Y/N's heart flutter.

"Princess, I'll always be here for you, no matter what." Chris revealed, his voice filled with silent promises. "You are the light of my life, and I will do everything in my power to make you happy."

Chris' words echoed in Y/N's heart, filling her with an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love. She felt infinitely blessed to have found someone so incredibly loving and understanding to share her life with.

And in that moment, as they hugged each other tightly, Y/N knew that no matter what the future held, she was right where she belonged: in the arms of the man who loved her unconditionally, regardless of who she was or who she loved. And with that came a feeling of peace and wholeness that she knew would last forever.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @sturniolowhore @luvr4miya @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @hearts4chriss @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @ksskianshd @soimightlikeoldmen69 @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @madsintheikea @soso-scarlettolivia @sturnolio-luvs @bitchydragonparadise @lvrsturn @freshsturns @h3arts4harry @patscorner @iammattswife @strnilolo @orangeypepsi

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[redfoxwritesstuff]

Read Me to Sleep? Alastor x reader Fluff

Alastor x reader Rating: General Audiences Warnings: Nothing outside of canon typical

Summary: After a long, shitty day out and about you drag yourself home to the hotel to seek shelter and comfort in the one place you knew you could find it.

~~~~~<3

It was late when you finally dragged your ass up the walkway of the hotel. You expected the lobby to be deserted and it was. You were utterly exhausted as you crossed the hotel lobby, dragging your feet with every step.

It had been a day from hell, between turf wars and murders making your errands take twice as long. On top of everything, you had to fight off some handsy fuck who didn’t know who they were messing with. While you were busy, your shopping got lifted. 

 That was just as well, you told yourself as you slowly pulled yourself up the stairs and down the hall. It was better to just give up and try again tomorrow. Or next week. 

Slipping into the room you shared with Alastor, you were not really all the at surprised to see him still up, sitting in his armchair with a book in hand, coat discarded in favor of comfort in the privacy of his room. He never really seemed to sleep, always being awake when you drifted off and awake before you rose in the morning. His ever watching presence was a comfort as you let your guard down. 

His red and pink eyes glanced up from his book as you latched the door shut behind you with a soft click that seemed to echo in the quite room. The only other sounds were the soft jazz playing and crackling of the fire in the fireplace.

“You’re home late, my dear.” Alastor’s eyes ran over you as he lifted his arms from his lap, freeing space in a unspoken offer. 

“Long day,” you didn’t elaborate as you crossed the room, toeing off your shoes and slipping your jacket off and letting it fall to the floor. Usually Alastor would comment, lecture about care of clothing and space but tonight he held is tongue.

You crawled into his lap, melting into the warmth of him as you tucked yourself against his much larger frame. Under your head you could hear the steady beat of his heart. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Alastor asked as his hands rested around you, shifting you to sit neater in his lap. 

“Not really,” you answered, nestling yourself tighter against his chest, resting your hand against his chest. 

“What can I do for you?” Alastor asked, resting his cheek against the top of your head. 

“Read to me?”

“As you wish,” Alastor nuzzled the top of your head for a moment. You could almost swear a soft kiss was placed but with him, you could never be sure. 

He read from where he was, voice a low rumble accented by the radio overlay, just present enough to warm his words. As minutes slipped by, your eyes grew heavy and you breathing slowed. It became harder and hard to follow the plot of the story, let alone the meaning of the sentences. 

Soon the words themselves were lost to you. They became just another soothing sound along with the fire crackling, the thumping of his heart and the way his breath came, softly rocking you ever so slightly. The jazz floated through the air as each slow blink of your eyes came slower, lids lingering downcast for a few seconds more each time. 

Your eyelids didn’t open again, a soft sigh slipping between your lips as you decided to rest your eyes and listen to the story. What was the story about? Oh hell, you lost it. That’s alright. 

His voice sounded so good. He was so warm, all around you. The fire was cozy. 

You needed to get up, change and get ready for bed. You needed to do things. 

You needed to lay there and listen to the voice of home. The rest of it could wait, you decided as sleep overtook you. What was the point of being home if you couldn’t fall asleep in the arms of the man you loved? 

~~~~~<3

Tag List: @catticora, @alastor-simp, @alastorthirsty

[ms-snape]

Tender Moments(severus snape x professor!reader)

request: so that person asked for professor!reader x snape jsut being super cute and omestic and tender, I couldn't find the request anymore sorry but if the person that asked about it read this please tell me u did in comment

Word count: 1115

Masterlist

---

The sun dipped low over the turrets of Hogwarts, casting long shadows across the grounds. Inside the stone walls, the flickering fire in the staff room offered a warm glow against the encroaching evening chill. Y/N, a professor of Herbology, had just finished grading a stack of papers that now lay scattered across her desk like fallen leaves. She stretched, letting out a breathy sigh, and glanced at the clock on the wall. It was nearly time for dinner, but more importantly, it was nearly time to see Severus.

“Just a few more minutes,” she murmured to herself, running her fingers through her hair. The thought of Severus always made her smile. Their relationship had blossomed in the most unexpected way—two souls drawn together in the shadows of the castle, finding light in each other.

The heavy oak door creaked open, and in walked Severus Snape, his robes billowing slightly as he entered. The moment their eyes met, a spark ignited in the air between them, and Y/N felt her heart race.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, “you’re still here?”

“Of course I am,” she replied, trying to suppress the grin that tugged at her lips. “I was waiting for you.”

Severus raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “Waiting for me, or waiting for dinner?”

“Both, I suppose,” she laughed softly, letting the warmth of his presence envelop her like a favorite blanket.

He stepped closer, and she could smell the faint, familiar scent of potions and herbs on him, mixed with a hint of something uniquely Severus. “You should know that waiting for you is always worth it,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.

Her breath caught in her throat. “You say the sweetest things,” she replied, tilting her head slightly to meet his gaze.

With a gentle sweep of his hand, he brushed a stray hair behind her ear. “It’s the truth.”

Y/N felt her cheeks heat up as she leaned into his touch, feeling safe and cherished in this small moment. The fire crackled, snapping gently in the background, creating a cozy rhythm that matched the quickening beats of her heart.

“Shall we join the others for dinner?” Severus asked, his tone shifting slightly as he stepped back, breaking the momentary bubble they had created.

“Not just yet.” Y/N took a step closer, her fingers brushing against his. “I want a moment with you first.”

Severus hesitated, then nodded, a rare softness in his expression. “Very well.”

She led him to a nearby armchair, inviting him to sit. He settled down with a slight sigh, and she nestled beside him, resting her head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body radiated against her, and she closed her eyes, savoring the comfort of his presence.

“Tell me about your day,” he prompted, his voice rumbling gently.

“Well, I had an amusing encounter with a particularly stubborn Venomous Tentacula,” she began, recalling the chaotic scene earlier that afternoon. “It wouldn’t stop wriggling. I swear it was trying to escape my lesson plan.”

Severus chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “It seems you have your hands full,” he teased lightly.

“More than you know.” She laughed, the sound mingling with his, creating a warm harmony. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Teaching here is a dream.”

“And what about your dreams outside of teaching?” he asked, turning serious.

Y/N paused, glancing up at him. “You mean, like… our dreams?” she asked, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

“Yes,” he said, searching her eyes. “What do you want?”

She hesitated, feeling the weight of the question. “I want… I want to create a life that feels warm and alive. I want to share it with someone who understands me.”

His gaze softened further, and he leaned in, brushing his lips against her forehead. “You have that with me, Y/N. I hope you know that.”

The tenderness in his words made her heart swell. “I do, Severus,” she replied, her voice a mere whisper. “I just sometimes worry about what tomorrow may bring.”

“Tomorrow is not our concern right now,” he said firmly, yet gently, pulling back to look at her. “Let’s focus on today.”

“Agreed,” she smiled, feeling lighter. “What do you want to do then?”

“I want to enjoy this moment,” he said, leaning closer again. “And maybe…”

Before she could respond, he captured her lips with his, a sweet, lingering kiss that sent butterflies dancing through her stomach. The world around them faded, and all that existed was the warmth of his mouth on hers, the taste of warmth and familiarity.

When they finally pulled apart, she was breathless. “That was—”

“Perfect,” he finished, a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth.

Just then, the door swung open again, and in walked Minerva McGonagall, her expression shifting from surprise to amusement as she caught sight of the pair.

“Goodness,” she exclaimed, her voice a mixture of mock horror and genuine delight. “Am I interrupting something?”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed as she pulled back from Severus, who merely raised an eyebrow at his colleague. “Not at all, Minerva,” he said dryly, the corner of his mouth betraying a hint of a smile.

“Just having a… moment,” Y/N added, her embarrassment turning into laughter. “Nothing scandalous, I promise.”

“I’m sure,” Minerva replied, a twinkle in her eye. “But I must say, it’s lovely to see the two of you together. Hogwarts could use a bit of warmth now and then.”

“Indeed,” Severus said, his tone surprisingly accommodating. “And what brings you here, Minerva?”

“I came to fetch you both for dinner,” she said, stepping further into the room. “Albus has prepared quite a feast, and he’s rather insistent we all join him.”

“Lead the way,” Y/N said, standing up and offering her hand to Severus, who took it with a slight nod.

As they walked together, fingers intertwined, Minerva couldn’t help but glance back at them. “You two are positively glowing,” she remarked, her expression softening. “It’s good for you, Severus.”

“Don’t make such a fuss, Minerva,” he replied, though the slight flush on his cheeks gave him away.

“Just stating the truth,” she said lightly, guiding them down the stone corridors lined with portraits that watched them with interest. “And don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve transformed, Severus. Love does wonders for a person.”

Y/N squeezed his hand tighter, feeling a rush of warmth surge through her. “I think you’re right,” she said, looking up at Severus, who seemed to ponder her words.

“I suppose it does,” he conceded, a hint of a smile breaking through his usual stoic demeanor.

[velaazuretail]

Req’s OPEN! | | a stressful day at work.

﹒ ∬ ﹒☕️ ﹒ GENSHIN X READER | Fluff |

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕ Diluc, Kaeya & Neuvillete.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕DILUC ❤️‍🔥

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting Mondstadt in a serene twilight. Diluc Ragnvindr, the stoic owner of the Dawn Winery, trudged up the path to his mansion, his mind heavy with the day's events. Kaeya, his adoptive brother, had been particularly vexing today, stirring up trouble that only Diluc could resolve.

As he pushed open the grand doors of his home, the familiar scent of aged oak and fresh grapes greeted him. But it was the soft, warm light spilling from the living room that drew him in. There, nestled in a cozy armchair, was you, reading a book by the fire.

Hearing the door, you looked up, your eyes lighting up with a mixture of relief and joy. "Welcome home, Diluc," you said, their voice a soothing balm to his frayed nerves.

Diluc's stern expression softened as he approached, shedding his coat and gloves. "It's good to be home," he replied, his voice low and weary.

You stood, crossing the room to meet him. You reached up, gently cupping his face, your touch grounding him. "Rough day?” You asked, already knowing the answer.

Diluc sighed, leaning into your touch. "Kaeya," he said simply, the name carrying a world of frustration and affection.

You chuckled softly, your fingers brushing through his fiery hair. "Come, sit with me. You need to relax."

You led him to the couch, where he sank into the cushions with a grateful sigh. You settled beside him, your presence a comforting anchor. You talked about everything and nothing, the mundane details of your day a welcome distraction from his worries.

As the fire crackled and the night deepened, Diluc felt the tension slowly ebb away. Your laughter, your gentle teasing, and the simple act of being together were enough to remind him why he endured the challenges of his role.

In that quiet moment, with you by his side, Diluc found peace. The world outside could wait. For now, he was home.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕KAEYA ❄️

Kaeya sighed as he pushed open the door to his home, the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders. The usually composed Cavalry Captain had been put through the wringer by none other than Klee, whose explosive antics had turned a routine patrol into a chaotic adventure. He couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory of her innocent smile as she handed him a freshly caught fish, completely oblivious to the havoc she had wreaked.

As he stepped inside, the familiar warmth of his home enveloped him, a stark contrast to the icy chill of his Cryo abilities. The soft glow of candlelight flickered in the living room, casting a cozy ambiance that immediately began to soothe his frayed nerves. He could hear the faint hum of a melody drifting from the kitchen, a sure sign that you were busy preparing dinner.

"Welcome home, Kaeya," a gentle voice called out, and he felt a smile tug at his lips. He followed the sound, finding you standing by the stove, stirring a pot of something that smelled absolutely divine.

"Hey," he replied, his voice softening as he approached. "You wouldn't believe the day I've had."

You turned to him, concern etched on their face. "Rough day with Klee again?"

Kaeya nodded, leaning against the counter. "You could say that. She managed to turn a simple patrol into a full-blown adventure. I think I aged a few years today."

A soft laugh escaped your lips as you reached up to cup his cheek. "Well, you're home now. Why don't you sit down and relax? Dinner will be ready soon."

Kaeya closed his eyes, leaning into the comforting touch. "That sounds perfect," he murmured. "Thank you."

He moved to the living room, sinking into the plush cushions of the couch. The tension in his muscles began to melt away as he listened to the soothing sounds of his spouse bustling in the kitchen. It was moments like these that reminded him why he worked so hard—to protect the peace and happiness of those he loved.

A few minutes later, you joined him, carrying a tray laden with steaming dishes. You set it down on the coffee table and sat beside him, your presence a balm to his weary soul.

"Here you go," you said, handing him a plate. "I made your favorite."

Kaeya's eyes lit up as he took the plate, the delicious aroma making his mouth water. "You always know how to make everything better," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.

You shared a quiet meal, the simple act of eating together bringing a sense of normalcy and comfort. As you finished, Kaeya leaned back, feeling more relaxed than he had all day.

"Thank you," he said again, his voice sincere. "For everything."

You smiled, your eyes filled with love. "Always, Kaeya. I'm here for you, no matter what."

Kaeya reached out, taking your hand in his. In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of their home and the love of his spouse, he knew that no matter how stressful his days might be, he would always have a place to return to—a place where he was truly at peace.

✦ ﹒ ┈ ﹕NEUVI 🌊

Neuvillete sat at his desk, the weight of his responsibilities pressing heavily on his shoulders. Furina's incessant whining filled the room, her voice a constant reminder of the chaos that seemed to follow her everywhere. He sighed, rubbing his temples in an attempt to alleviate the growing headache.

Just as he was about to lose his patience, he caught sight of you, his beloved spouse, standing in the doorway. Your presence was like a breath of fresh air, a beacon of hope in the midst of his turmoil. Neuvillete's heart skipped a beat, and a small, secretive smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

Without a word, he made a decision. He would sneak out, if only for a moment, to be with you. He glanced at Furina, who was still lost in her own world of complaints, and quietly rose from his chair. Moving with the stealth of a shadow, he slipped past her and out of the room.

As he moved through the halls, his footsteps were near silent, his focus solely on reaching you. He knew that every second counted, that Furina’s attention could be drawn at any moment, and he had to act fast. But despite the urgency, his thoughts were a jumble, his mind flooded with a mix of anxiety and excitement at the prospect of being with you.

Finally, he reached the secluded spot where you waited for him. His heart raced in his chest as he saw you standing there, a comforting sight in the midst of his chaotic world.

Wasting no time, Neuvillete stepped closer, his eyes locked on yours. The tension in his shoulders eased a little, your presence already working its magic to soothe his frazzled nerves.

“I had to get away to see you," he whispered, his voice soft. “Just for a moment, to escape the madness.”

You smiled at Neuvillete’s words, understanding his need for even a brief respite from the chaos that was currently consuming him.

You stepped closer, your hand reaching out to touch his arm gently. The contact was subtle, but it spoke volumes of the love and concern you felt for your spouse. "It’s alright," you whispered back, your voice comforting. "I know the weight you're carrying. I'm here."

Neuvillete’s expression softened at your touch, the stress lines on his forehead relaxing a little. He reached out and grasped your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours, relishing the comfort your presence brought him.

“I don’t know how much longer I can handle this," he admitted, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Furina is relentless. She’s driving me mad with her constant demands.”

You nodded, understanding his frustration all too well. Furina’s childish antics had always tested everyone’s patience, even your own. But now, with so much at stake, her behavior felt almost unbearable.

“I know," you said, your voice soft but firm. “But you don’t have to face this alone. We’re in this together, remember?”

A flicker of gratitude passed over Neuvillete’s face, his grip on your hand tightening. Your words were a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he had your unwavering support and strength to rely on.

“You’re right," he murmured, his voice quiet. “I just… sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in all this responsibility. It’s overwhelming.”

Just as Neuvillete was about to respond to your words, a shout rang out from behind him. Furina suddenly appeared in the distance, a look of outrage on her face.

“Where do you think you’re going?!” she demanded, her voice shrill and indignant.

Neuvillete tensed, cursing under his breath. He had hoped to have more time alone with you before Furina noticed his absence.

Neuvillete acted quickly, grabbing your arm and pulling you away just as Furina was closing in.

He half-jogged, half-ran through the halls, his mind solely focused on evading Furina’s pursuit.

His grip on your arm was tight, a mix of protectiveness and desperation. He didn’t want to be separated from you again, not so soon after finally finding a moment of respite.

Finally, he spotted a secluded spot - a small, empty room that he knew was seldom used. He hurriedly pulled you inside and shut the door behind them, locking it for good measure.

He collapsed against the door, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. The adrenaline pumped through his veins, making his heart race. He looked at you, his expression a mix of relief and worry.

“I’m sorry," he apologized, his voice winded but sincere. “I had hoped we would have more time before she saw us…”

He pushed off the door, walking closer to you. His eyes scanned your face, checking for any signs of distress or fear.

You reached out, wrapping your arms around him in a tight embrace. The fear and tension in his body were palpable, and you wanted nothing more than to soothe his worries.

He leaned into your touch, his head resting against your shoulder as he drew in a shaky breath. The comfort and security of your embrace slowly began to quiet the storm of thoughts in his mind.

In that moment, all the worries and responsibilities seemed to melt away. It was just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s embrace, finding peace in the midst of the chaos. And for Neuvillete, that was enough.

⌣ ﹒ ✿ ﹕That’s all, thank you for reading! I still do graphics but for now I’m writing.. so sorry if it’s not good, it’s my first time 💔 please do send request and tips! ^^

﹕i made the Neuvillete one long for my friend

[theblue6ook]

"A Sick Day" PT 2

Bruce invites a sick Y/N to stay at his home.

B (24) & Y/N (22)

A/N: I'm back... (let's be honest this one is not my best work, but we have better coming up)

The worst part of her illness wasn’t the migraine pounding in the back of her eyes, her high fever, or even the soreness in her throat. No. It was having to face Alfred after he’d heard about the condition of her sickness.

“I don’t know what’s worse. That Bruce, for the first time in his life, insisted on leaving the house, and in a blizzard - or him leaving to find you, on the verge of death, walking in it!” he bellowed at her. “Out of all the irresponsible-”

Y/N had been quiet since Bruce forced her into the car heading toward Wayne Manor. Alfred had even delightedly greeted her, not expecting the visit... that was until Bruce explained the circumstances. Y/N felt like branding him a tattle tale. The minute they walk in and he’s going on to Alfred, guess who walked to Wayne Enterprises today? She could’ve killed him. 

So now, she sits in an armchair by the fireplace in the main living area. Alfred made sure to cozy her up with a blanket and a cup of something warm and delicious before digging into her about being "irresponsible," as he said. As he dug further, Y/N felt her eyes drooping. Her body began to tingle delightfully. Down her sides, into her fingertips, all the way down to her toes. It was like all the stress from her day-to-day life, her illness, her radiator, was slithering out of her. She sank deeper into the chair, and as Bruce brought her bags in, he looked toward her sleeping form.

"Alfred," he said quietly.

"I'll get to you later," he snipped toward Bruce.

"Alfred," he said firmly, moving his head toward Y/N, and the old man turned toward her.

Alfred sighed deeply and pulled her blanket closer to her chin, taking the drink out of her still hand. He spoke mostly to himself, "What am I going to do with you two?"

“I’ll take her upstairs.” Bruce started to walk toward her until Alfred stopped him. 

“We shouldn’t wake her,” Alfred whispered, but Bruce looked weary. “She needs to rest and I don’t want to risk her waking up again.”

So they left her, in no doubt a medicated sleep in the cozy arms of the recliner by the crackling fireplace.

-

It was dark the next time Y/N stirred. Slowly she opened and rubbed her crusted eyes, her sign of a deep, unbothered sleep. For no longer than a second, she had no idea where she was. That was until her eyes drifted to the large family portrait hanging on the wall.

Leaning upwards in her chair she noticed her drink had long gone cold, now sitting on the table next to her, and the recliner she had been resting in had been leaned back to lift her aching feet. The fire was out, but it was still so warm in the living room. That might have had something to do with the fact that she was swaddled in two blankets. What time was it? Had she slept all day?

Unwrapping herself from the burrito of blankets, she stood on shaking legs. With a crack of her back, she moved toward what she thought she remembered to be the kitchen.

Y/N pushed through a set of dark oat doors and felt her socks slide against the checkered tile. Widening her blurry eyes, she looked toward the microwave clock, and there was no mistaking the time glowing off the stainless steel.

3 a.m.

So, that has to be incorrect. There was just no fathomable way she had fallen asleep this morning, slept all day, and then some. This had to be some stupid joke played by Bruce. It had to be. Grabbing her phone out of her sweatshirt pocket, she lit the screen with a click.

3 a.m.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" She threw her hands against her face groaning. Snow or not, sick or not, she was not the type to skip out on work and though it was her boss's fault she couldn't help but feel the impending doom for when she did have to play catch up. Maybe I can just get a head start tonight? I slept all day anyway.

Looking around the kitchen, Y/N realized she didn't even know where her work bag was, let alone any of her things. She didn't have a chance of finding it in the manor, especially when she's not used to so much space. Honestly, the least Bruce could have done was wake her up to take her to an actual bedroom, or even show her around the manor so she wouldn't get lost... but if he did wake her, she would have surely started working anyway and Bruce knew this. Hence her current predicament.

But she wasn't alone for long. The heat had kicked on, which definitely masked a general nighttime sound, but there was something off about the silence. She swore she almost heard a metallic clicking, like a heavy door, and then shuffling behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing. Just the glow of the microwave clock shining in the darkness.

"What are you doing?"

"HOLY SHIT!"

Turning, she noticed that standing in front of her was a very shirtless, very sweaty Bruce Wayne. The kitchen glow shined off his damp chest, and she felt like she couldn't breathe. This is so inappropriate, she kept thinking, yet her eyes continued moving downward-

He cleared his throat, grinning.

She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding in, "Don't you fucking scare me like that. What are you even doing up?"

"I was just at the gym."

Bewilderment struck her face, "It's 3 o'clock in the morning."

Bruce ignored her, opting to throw the back of his hand against her forehead with his brows furrowed. "Your fever is down, but you're still warm and a little flushed."

It wasn't the fever that warmed her cheeks. He was too close to her and too shirtless. She had never given too much thought to her boss's physique, but she's pretty sure spoiled billionaires aren't typically cut like he is. She stepped back quickly, looking toward the ceiling. 

"Okay, that's enough. I should probably get back to bed anyway.” Backing away toward the double doors, she paused, realizing she had no idea where ‘bed’ was. Bruce walked past her, his back was as impressive as his front.

With a grin, he opened the double doors and nodded his head in the direction of the living room. “Come on. I’ll show you where to go.”

@pank0w @moejoeflow @padsfirewhisky @maxinehufflepuffprincess @pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @stxrsberkshire

[kat-thepoet]

Veins of Violet

Logan Howlett x Female Reader

Part 5: Living in the moment

A/N: Let me know if the link works lol. Anyways, enjoy!

Previous Chapters ☞ HERE ☜

4.1k words

Logan and I stood at Vanessa's door, a quiet tension between us as we waited. I could feel the anticipation buzzing in the air, both of us unsure of what the evening might bring. Logan, with his usual calm demeanor, glanced at me, his eyes giving nothing away, while I fiddled with the strap of my purse, trying to keep my own thoughts in check.

After a moment, the door swung open, revealing Vanessa with a bright, welcoming smile. "Hey, you two! Come on in," she greeted, stepping aside to let us in.

"Thanks," I replied, returning her smile as I stepped inside, followed closely by Logan. The warm, cozy atmosphere of Vanessa's apartment instantly made me feel at ease, the familiar scent of vanilla and the soft glow of the lamps creating a relaxing ambiance.

Vanessa closed the door behind us and turned to face us, her eyes twinkling with excitement. "I've got everything set up in the living room. Snacks, drinks, and of course, the games. Wade's already here, probably getting into trouble in the kitchen."

I exchanged a glance with Logan, who merely nodded, his expression unreadable as usual. But there was a hint of something in his eyes, something that made me think he wasn't as uninterested in tonight as he let on.

"Sounds perfect," I said, following Vanessa as she led us into the living room, where the night was about to unfold.

The game night was in full swing. The coffee table was covered with a variety of snacks—bowls of chips, popcorn, and candy—and a few bottles of beer and soda were chilling in a bucket of ice. In the center of the table sat a stack of board games, with classics like "Monopoly" and "Scrabble" mixed in with a few party games that promised more laughter than competition.

Wade was already there, lounging on the couch with a beer in hand. He grinned as soon as he saw us. "Well, look who finally decided to join the party! Took you long enough," he teased, taking a swig from his bottle.

"Had to make sure Logan didn't bail," I shot back with a smirk, nudging Logan playfully as we walked further into the room.

Logan rolled his eyes, but there was a slight curve to his lips that hinted at amusement. He was clearly trying to downplay his presence, but I could tell he was making an effort to be a part of the group, even if it was just for tonight.

Vanessa gestured to the couch. "Make yourselves comfortable. We'll start with something easy—maybe a little 'Pictionary' to get us warmed up?"

Wade perked up at the suggestion. "Pictionary? Oh, this is going to be good. I've got a talent for drawing inappropriate things," he said with a mischievous grin.

Logan sighed, shaking his head as he settled into one of the armchairs. "Just keep it PG, Wade," he muttered, though there was a hint of amusement in his tone.

Vanessa and I exchanged a knowing look before bursting into laughter. "We'll try to keep him in check," I promised Logan, though I knew full well that Wade was going to be his usual unpredictable self.

Vanessa handed out the game supplies—pads of paper, markers, and a timer—before sitting down beside Wade. I took a seat on the couch opposite Logan, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. As the game began, the room quickly filled with laughter and playful banter.

Wade was, as expected, in his element. His drawings were ridiculous, exaggerated, and often strayed into the realm of the absurd, but that only made the game more entertaining. Vanessa was competitive, as always, her guesses rapid-fire as she tried to beat the clock. Logan, on the other hand, was more reserved, but I noticed that he was surprisingly good at drawing—his sketches were simple yet effective, and he rarely needed more than a few lines to get his point across.

As the game went on, I found myself getting more comfortable, letting go of the lingering tension from the day. The playful atmosphere was infectious, and even Logan seemed to be relaxing a little, though he still kept a watchful eye on Wade, who was clearly enjoying himself a bit too much.

At one point, Wade drew something so outrageous that Vanessa and I dissolved into fits of laughter, struggling to catch our breath as we tried to make sense of the chaotic lines on the page. Logan, meanwhile, just shook his head, though I caught a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Alright, alright," Vanessa finally gasped, wiping tears of laughter from her eyes. "Let's take a break before Wade completely derails the game."

We all agreed, and I got up to grab more drinks from the kitchen. As I did, I couldn't help but notice the way Logan's gaze followed me, just for a moment, before he turned his attention back to the conversation.

Is he into her? Vanessa wondered, her eyes flicking between the two of us as we laughed over one of Wade's outrageous sketches. Logan's usually so closed off, but around Vi... there's something different about him. Something softer, almost protective.

She watched as Logan reached over to grab a snack, his arm brushing against mine in the process. It was a small thing, barely noticeable, but Vanessa caught the way Logan quickly glanced at me afterward, as if checking to see if I was okay with the brief contact. I didn't seem to mind; in fact, I didn't seem to notice at all, but Logan's reaction wasn't lost on Vanessa.

He's definitely got a soft spot for her, Vanessa mused, trying to suppress a smile. But does Vi see it? Does she even realize how much he cares?

Determined to find out more, Vanessa decided to keep a close eye on the pair for the rest of the night. If there was something there, she was going to uncover it.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of laughter, teasing, and the kind of lighthearted fun that I hadn't realized I needed so much. By the time the last game was put away, and the snacks had been devoured, I felt a sense of contentment that had been missing for a while.

As the night wound down, Wade stretched and yawned dramatically. "Well, folks, this has been a blast, but I think it's time for me to hit the sack. Gotta rest up for tomorrow's mission."

Vanessa smiled, giving him a playful shove. "You mean you're just tired of losing."

Wade feigned offense. "Losing? Me? Never! But I'll let you think that if it helps you sleep at night."

We all shared a laugh as Wade got up, giving us all a mock salute. Vanessa walked him to the bedroom, clearly planning on keeping him for the night.

Logan and I stayed behind in the living room, enjoying the comfortable silence that had settled over us. Logan, nursing the last of his beer, looked at me with a slightly more relaxed expression.

"So, what did you think? Not as bad as you thought, right?" I asked, breaking the silence.

Logan met my gaze, his expression softening. "Not bad," he admitted. "Actually... it was nice. Different."

I smiled, feeling a warmth in my chest at his words. "I'm glad you joined us. It wouldn't have been the same without you."

He didn't say anything, but the look he gave me spoke volumes. There was something in his eyes, something that made my heart skip a beat, but before I could dwell on it, Vanessa returned, clapping her hands together.

"Alright, time to wrap it up. Thanks for coming, guys. This was fun. We should do it again."

Logan and I stood up, and after saying our goodbyes, we headed back to our apartment. The walk was quiet, but it wasn't awkward. It felt... comfortable.

As we reached our door, I turned to Logan, feeling a little hesitant. "So, tomorrow... you still up for that mission with Wade?"

He gave a short nod. "Yeah. I'll be ready."

"Good," I said, trying to hide the smile that threatened to break out. "Get some rest, then. We've got a busy day ahead."

With that, we both went to our rooms, and as I closed my door behind me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for what the next day would bring. But for now, I was content, knowing that tonight had been a small step toward something more—something I wasn't quite ready to name but was eager to explore.

I woke up around 7 a.m., the early morning light filtering through the curtains. Last night, Wade mentioned that we had a mission to take down some drug dealers who were using kids to traffic drugs across state lines. Sick fucks, I thought to myself, feeling a surge of anger just thinking about it. 

I got out of bed, stretching my muscles and trying to shake off the lingering drowsiness. Today was going to be intense, and I needed to be ready.  

I did my usual morning routine, brushing my teeth and splashing cold water on my face to fully wake myself up. I then went to my closet, pulling out my suit. As I zipped it up, I heard the familiar sounds of Logan already awake, making noise in the bathroom. The clatter of the shower turning off and the shuffle of him moving around told me he was getting ready too.

I walked to the kitchen and started making breakfast for both of us, cracking eggs into a pan and setting some bread in the toaster. I’ve mostly taken on the cooking duties since Logan moved in, not that I minded. But it did make me wonder—does Logan even know how to cook? Or has he been living off whatever he can find?

As I was flipping the eggs, I heard the bathroom door open and turned to see Logan stepping out, fully dressed this time. He was wearing his blue and yellow gear, the suit clinging to his muscular frame, highlighting every line of strength and power. It was a far cry from the towel-clad figure I’d gotten used to seeing in the mornings, but it was a welcome change. He looked ready for anything, his expression set in that usual stoic determination.

"Morning," I said, offering him a small smile as I plated up the breakfast.

Logan nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes flicking to the food. "Morning," he replied, his tone gruff but not unfriendly. 

I set the plates on the table and gestured for him to sit down. "Made us some breakfast. Figured we’d need the energy for today."

He looked at the food, then back at me, a hint of appreciation in his eyes. "Thanks," he said, sitting down and picking up his fork. "You didn’t have to, but... it’s appreciated."

I shrugged, sitting down across from him. "No problem. Just curious, though—do you know how to cook?"

Logan paused for a moment, then let out a low chuckle. "I can manage the basics. But I guess I’ve gotten used to other people handling that stuff."

I grinned, feeling a bit of pride at being able to contribute something, even if it was just breakfast. "Well, anytime you want to take a turn, feel free. But until then, I’ve got it covered."

He gave a short nod, digging into his food. The two of us ate in comfortable silence, the anticipation of the day ahead hanging in the air but not weighing us down.

Logan and I stood outside Vanessa's apartment, waiting as Wade said his goodbyes. I could hear their voices through the door, a mix of teasing and affection that made me smile. Wade was always over the top, but with Vanessa, there was a sensitivity to him, a side that only she seemed to bring out. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his expression as unreadable as ever. But I could tell he was eager to get going, the weight of the mission already settling on his shoulders. I shifted slightly, glancing at the door as it finally opened.

Wade stepped out, a grin plastered on his face as he waved back at Vanessa, who stood in the doorway, giving us all a small wave in return. "Alright, lovebirds, time to go kick ass and take names... and maybe even squeeze in some after-hours fun, if you catch my drift," Wade said with a wicked smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Vanessa rolled her eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at her lips. "Just make sure the only thing you’re squeezing is the trigger, Wade," she shot back, her tone playful but with a hint of seriousness.

"And be careful out there," she called after us, her voice laced with concern despite the lightness of the moment.

"Always, sweetheart," Wade replied, blowing her a kiss before turning to us. 

"You two ready?" Logan pushed off the wall, giving a curt nod. "Let’s get this over with," he muttered, already mentally gearing up for what was ahead.

I glanced at Vanessa one last time, giving her a reassuring smile before we turned and headed down the hallway. The mission was on, and there was no turning back now.

The famous yellow taxi was parked outside, idling at the curb like it had been waiting for us all along. As I climbed in, I couldn’t help but wonder—after all this time, is Wade even paying Dopinder to take us to our missions? Or is this just another one of Wade’s never-ending favors? The thought made me chuckle to myself as I slid into the backseat, Logan settling in beside me, looking as serious as ever.

Wade jumped into the front seat with a grin, slapping Dopinder on the shoulder. "Alright, my trusty chariot, let’s get this threesome on the road! And if you get us there fast enough, I might just let you watch the fireworks—if you know what I mean," he quipped with a wink, clearly enjoying himself.

Dopinder shot Wade a nervous smile, glancing back at us through the rearview mirror. "Of course, Mr. Pool. Anything for you and your friends," he replied, a bit of that familiar apprehension in his voice.

I couldn’t help but shake my head with a small smile as we pulled away from the curb, the city blurring past us as we headed toward whatever chaos awaited us. Wade might be impossible, but he was our impossible, and we were ready for whatever came next.

We arrived at the warehouse, the heavy, looming structure casting long shadows in the early morning light. The tension in the air was palpable as we prepared to take down this operation once and for all. Wade, surprisingly focused for once, quickly laid out the plan.

"Alright, here’s the deal," Wade said, his tone serious but still tinged with his usual irreverence. "Vi, you’re on distraction duty. Flash those powers of yours around, make a scene, and draw the assholes out. Logan, you’re the muscle—cut through anyone who gets in our way. I’ll handle the rest. And by 'rest,' I mean the fun part where I get to blow things up."

He grinned, clearly eager to get started. "Remember, kids—keep it clean, keep it mean, and don’t let those bastards get away. We’re here to send a message."

We all nodded in agreement, the gravity of the mission settling over us. With one last look at each other, we moved toward the warehouse entrance, ready to take down the operation. The doors creaked open as we stepped inside, the dim lighting revealing a maze of crates and machinery. The sound of distant voices echoed through the space, and we knew we were getting close.

It was time to do what we did best. No turning back now.

The moment we stepped inside, the warehouse was a flurry of motion. Shadows moved in the dim light, and the echo of distant voices quickly turned into shouts of alarm as they realized they were under attack.

Wade, always the first to dive into chaos, leaped forward with a manic grin on his face. "Showtime!" he yelled, pulling out his katanas and slicing through the nearest thug with a quick, practiced motion. Blood splattered across the concrete floor as he twirled, dispatching another goon with a swift kick to the chest.

Logan wasted no time either, his claws extending with a metallic *SNIKT* as he charged into the fray. He was a force of nature, tearing through the men with brutal efficiency. One tried to get the drop on him from behind, but Logan whirled around, slashing his claws across the man’s chest, sending him crumpling to the ground.

I focused my energy, feeling the familiar surge of power course through me. With a flick of my wrist, I sent a telekinetic wave crashing into a group of men who had tried to circle around us. They flew backward, slamming into crates and walls, their weapons scattering across the floor.

"Is that all you’ve got?" I taunted, my voice echoing through the warehouse. I raised my hands, using my powers to lift a pile of crates and hurl them at another group of thugs who were trying to regroup. The crates smashed into them, knocking them to the ground with bone-crunching force.

One of the men, a burly guy with a scar running down his face, lunged at Logan with a crowbar. Logan barely flinched as he caught the man’s arm mid-swing, twisting it until the crowbar clattered to the floor. With a low growl, Logan drove his claws into the man’s abdomen, pulling them out in one smooth motion as the man collapsed at his feet.

Wade, meanwhile, was having the time of his life. He was surrounded by a half-dozen goons, but that didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. He ducked and weaved between them, slashing with his swords and firing off shots from his pistols in between. "Come on, boys! Who’s next? I’ve got plenty of love to go around!" he cackled, slicing through another thug’s knee, sending him screaming to the ground.

In the midst of the chaos, I spotted the leader of the operation—a tall, lean man with a cold, calculating look in his eyes. He was barking orders, trying to rally his men, but it was clear he knew the fight was already lost. I locked eyes with him and started toward him, using my powers to send anyone in my path flying out of the way.

The leader tried to pull a gun on me, but I was faster. I used my telekinesis to wrench the weapon from his hand, then sent a blast of energy that knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground hard, and before he could even think about getting up, Logan was there, claws at the ready.

"End of the line," Logan growled, his eyes locked on the man’s. 

The leader paled, his bravado evaporating as he realized there was no escape.

"Please… I’ll talk, I’ll tell you everything!" he stammered, his eyes darting between Logan and me.

"Too late for that," Logan snarled, but I stepped forward, placing a hand on his arm.

"Let’s hear what he has to say," I said, my voice cold and commanding. Logan hesitated for a moment, then nodded, retracting his claws.

The leader scrambled to his knees, fear written all over his face.

"It was just a job… we were supposed to move the shipment tonight… that’s all I know, I swear!" he babbled, his voice trembling.

Wade sauntered over, wiping blood off one of his katanas with a rag he’d found. 

"Well, that’s not very helpful," he said, his tone mocking. "I was hoping for something a bit more… explosive."

I narrowed my eyes at the leader. "Who hired you?"

"I-I don’t know his name… just that he’s high up in the cartel. We get our orders through a middleman. Please, I’m telling you the truth!"

Before we could press him further, a loud crack echoed through the warehouse. The leader’s eyes went wide, and he slumped forward, a bullet hole in the back of his head. I spun around, searching for the source of the shot, but whoever had pulled the trigger was long gone.

"Shit," Logan muttered, glaring at the leader’s lifeless body. "Someone didn’t want him talking."

"Yeah, no kidding," Wade said, sheathing his katanas. "Guess we’ll have to find our answers elsewhere."

I let out a frustrated sigh, but there was no time to dwell on it. We had taken down the operation, but the bigger threat was still out there.

"Let’s clean up here and get out," I said, my mind already racing with the possibilities. This was far from over.

After securing the warehouse and making sure there were no loose ends, we gathered outside, waiting for Dopinder to pick us up. The adrenaline was still pumping, but the weight of what had just happened settled in. The mission had been successful, but there were still too many unanswered questions.

Logan leaned against the wall, his usual stoic expression back in place, while Wade fidgeted impatiently, clearly eager to get back and brag about our exploits. I stood quietly, my thoughts still lingering on the leader’s last moments and the bullet that had ended him.

Finally, the familiar yellow taxi pulled up, and Dopinder waved at us from the driver’s seat, his usual nervous smile in place. We piled into the car, the exhaustion of the day starting to take its toll as we settled into the seats.

The ride back was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the warehouse. Even Wade seemed content to sit in silence, his earlier energy fading as the reality of what we’d done sunk in. Logan stared out the window, lost in his own thoughts, while I tried to process everything that had happened.

When we finally arrived home, the sun was just beginning to rise, casting a pale light over the city. We climbed out of the taxi, and Wade slapped Dopinder on the back with a tired grin. "Another mission accomplished, my friend. Take the rest of the day off—you’ve earned it."

Dopinder nodded, giving us a small wave before driving off, leaving us standing outside our building. Wade lingered for a moment, giving us both a sly grin. 

"Well, kiddos, it's been fun. Don't do anything I wouldn't do—or maybe do everything I would do. You know, whatever keeps things interesting."

With that, Wade turned on his heel and headed toward Vanessa’s apartment, already pulling out his phone, no doubt ready to relay the night’s events with his usual flair. Logan and I exchanged a brief glance, both too exhausted to say much. Without a word, we turned and made our way to our apartment. The adrenaline had worn off, leaving only the heavy weight of fatigue.

The silence between us was comfortable, a shared understanding that, for now, there wasn’t much left to say. We’d faced down another mission, come out the other side, and now, all that was left was to find some rest before whatever came next.

A few days had passed since the mission at the warehouse, and life had settled into a surprisingly comfortable rhythm with Logan. We’d fallen into a routine—quiet mornings where we’d make breakfast together, evenings spent watching old movies, and the occasional mission with Wade that kept things interesting. 

Logan had turned out to be a more considerate roommate than I’d expected. He wasn’t exactly talkative, but there was something reassuring about his presence, the way he filled the silence without making it awkward. We’d watch films together, mostly old classics or the occasional action flick, and though he rarely commented, I could tell he enjoyed the downtime.

What Logan didn’t know was that I’d been helping him sleep better. His nightmares were still a problem, but I’d been using my powers to calm his mind at night, easing him into a deeper, more restful sleep. He hadn’t noticed, or at least he hadn’t mentioned it, but I could see the difference in how he carried himself during the day—less tension, fewer dark circles under his eyes.

And then there were the missions with Wade, which provided a welcome distraction from the quiet routine. Wade was always the same—chaotic, unpredictable, but oddly dependable when it counted. He’d drag us into all sorts of crazy situations, but we always managed to get through it together. Each mission was a reminder of the strange but unbreakable bond we’d formed over time.

Life with Logan was different from anything I’d experienced before. There was no drama, no unnecessary complications—just a simple, steady companionship that made the days feel a little less lonely. And though I’d never admit it, I found myself looking forward to the moments we spent together, even the quiet ones. as the days passed I spent less and less time thinking about Adam. 

For now, things were fine—better than fine, actually. But a small part of me couldn’t help but wonder how long it would last, and what might happen when the peace was inevitably disrupted. Until then, I was content to enjoy the calm before the next storm.

Part 6: Gem Bracelet

[tulip-room]

Stress Relief

So uhm….I have a new wife his name is Semi Semi…I’ve already posted twice today but here have this for lovely Semi Semi <3

minors, ageless, and blank blogs dni

Smut under the cut

Semi just had too much today. Nothing seemed to be going his way, he kept messing up at band practice and it caused him to lash out at his friends. The weather was too cold and his jacket wasn’t thick enough. Safe to say he was much happier when he came home to find you. His lovely partner on the couch.

You looked so cozy wrapped up in one of his hoodies by the fireplace. Originally he hadn’t wanted one but now that he sees you there he has to pat himself on the back for agreeing with you. A fireplace is exactly what you two needed.

He tried to keep himself as neutral as possible because he didn’t want to worry you. After all, he’s sure you had a stressful day too. But what better way to relieve some stress then by you fucking it out of him?

“Eita?” You ask looking up carefully from your book. There was a small puddle growing by the door from where the snow was melting off of Semi’s boots, the hardwood floor not soaking up any of the spillage. “Are you okay my love?” You ask carefully, your words soft and cracking at his mind like the fire.

He shakes his head on instinct. The concern in your eyes growing as you set your book down and open your arms. A small smile tugs at his lips at the action. He slides his boots and jacket off placing the coat on the rack and the shoes by the door. He makes his way towards you and falls into your open arms.

Your hands make quick work of helping him de-stress, your fingers combing out the knots in his hair carefully. “Anything I can do to help?” Your voice is gentle and sweet as you ask hesitantly.

“I want to eat you out.” He says it so simply but your face grows warm at his words. You let out a surprised gasp.

“You’re not usually this bold, what’s gotten into you my love?”

“I had a bad day and I think the only solution is being in between your thighs.” His own face is warm at his words. He knows he’s being blunt but he really has had a rough day and all he wants to do is make you gasp and writhe because of him. You shake your head a little bit but start to get up from the couch.

“Wait, can I do it right here?” There it is again, that shock you felt earlier. “The fire makes you have such a pretty glow.” And who are you to refuse him? You nod your head and slowly settle back down against the arm of the couch. He grabs two pillows from the armchairs in the room and puts one under your head and another under your hips.

He slinks down and puts your legs over his shoulders. He gives one of them a gentle squeeze. “Can I?” He presses a kiss to your thigh as he comes closer to your heat. Your head feels dizzy as you nod. You thank yourself for not putting pants on earlier when you got out of bed.

He brings one hand up and gently pushes down on your abdomen. He places a gentle kiss over your underwear and revels in the way you shiver. The goosebumps forming in your skin causing a fire to emerge from him. He needs to make more. He slowly pulls your underwear down and he’s cruel as he blows a puff of air on your opening.

You gasp and bring your hands down to tangle in his hair. “Eita, please,” you whine desperately. The thought that he’s barely done anything and you’re already begging for him has his pants tightening. He reaches down and adjusts himself with a free hand. He brings it back up and softly caresses your thigh. He moves his mouth and presses a kiss to your leg. “Please.” You ask again.

He lets out a small laugh at how you sound. He gives in though and wraps his lips around your bud, gently sucking it. Your fingers tighten in his hair and the sensation causes a sinful moan to spill from his lips. He lifts up and looks at you, he notices the rise and fall of your chest. “We only just started baby.” He teases as his thumb rubs circles on your clit.

You gasp again and try to pull him back down where you need him. He smirks as his head goes back down. Your plush thighs pressing against the sides of his head, messing up his hair. He leaves a gentle lick at your opening and pulls away again, enjoying the goosebumps that grow along your skin. He knows he’s being cruel but pulling those little whines from you is making all his stress go away.

You’ve already begged nicely for it though so he won’t keep you waiting for too long. He lowers his head again and starts lapping away at you. Mouth sometimes attaching to your clit to suck for a few moments before slowly dipping his tongue inside of your opening. The pleasure has you moaning and shivering.

As if his tongue abusing your opening isn’t enough he also has to bring his thumb down and rub circles on your bud. He rolls it roughly and quickly. His other hand leaves your thigh with a small pat. You’re definitely out of it now, eyes closed, head throw back, shaky quick breaths, positively leaking all over Semi’s face.

Semi wasn’t too much better himself, groaning against you as your fingers pulled on his hair. Eyes closed as he drank up everything you had to give him, the liquid glistening against his chin if he were to pull away. You were just shaking against him so nicely, why would he stop? All the stress he was feeling from earlier was gone now as he slowly ground his hips against the couch.

He felt like a teenager again, going to cum in his pants because his partner was just too hot that he needed to grind against something. He pushed one of his fingers into your heat as he continued to lick around, your legs shaking as he does so. He’s already brought you to climax once just from his tongue.

rules masterlist

[mr-spotatohead]

-Lapse.-

Welcome Home x GN!Reader

Words: 2,502

|Contains: Slight horror.|

Synopsis: You are the only neighbor in the neighborhood who is made of porcelain. You work in shoe-making. And unfortunately you have a giant paranoia. Everyone in the neighborhood knows that you sometimes accidentally break because of it. So everybody is careful with you. And you woke up this day, thinking it was going to be normal and fun. But you saw something you weren't supposed to see. And it had nothing to do with your paranoia.

"Good morning everyone! Today is a beautiful day to get up. It's half past seven in the morning, with the sun lighting up the neighborhood!" Said the broadcaster with a happy and loud voice.

You are freshly up and in a ready mood to get down to business. But first, daily chores. Taking bouncy steps to the window, you unlocked the lock and quickly took in the view. It was beautiful, as always. Your eyes glanced at the watering can next to your window, you picked it up knowing there was still liquid inside. "And here's your breakfast!" You joked, turning the watering can over the flowers on your window.

You mumbled along with the music that started playing from your home radio, next to your armchair. With a bounce in your step, you went to your workbench and tidied it up since yesterday you left it cluttered with shoe sketches. Working on creating shoes was exciting but time consuming. But the end result was one to be very proud of.

Ohh, speaking of shoes, you remembered. You bent down to retrieve a pair of shoes from under the workbench, one that you finally finished. "Oh, Sally will be so happy to know." You took the finished shoes to the kitchen table. It was a pair of well-decorated red shoes made from the finest fabric. You remember Sally asked you once that she needed a new pair and even joked that she would order new ones from you. Ah, little does she know that you are going to give her these new ones as a gift.

Finishing the little daily cleaning around the cozy little house that you adore, you noticed through the open windows that some people have already started to leave their houses and go about their daily routines. You saw Frank with some gear walking along the colorful tile path. Taking a hand off the broom you happily waved at him, not expecting a response.

Surprisingly, he spotted you and responded by nodding his head once, continuing on his way. Well, that day seemed like a day you would have fun!… Suddenly snapping you out of your thoughts, your cable phone rang. Leaving the broom resting beside the table, you walked happily over to the phone, curiosity on your face. Picking up the phone you asked. "Hey oho, this is (Name)." "(NAME)!! Good morning!!" You smiled big hearing your best friend's voice. "Sally! Good morning, what do I owe you the pleasure?" You joked with a big smile on your face. You heard Sally's giggle from the other end, knowing you're playing formal with her when you don't have to. "Oh my stars, I have to tell you this news now! Like NOW." You laughed with your hand over your mouth, shaking your head you leaned against the telephone table. "Really, is that why you decided to call instead of visiting me?" You joked knowing that you live between Sally and Poppy's houses. "Uuuh, well look out the window." Sally said, her voice farthest from the phone. You were confused, but when you looked to the side, a smile soon rose on your face. Sally was at her house, at the window waving at you. You laughed with your eyes closed seeing that her phone cord didn't reach the window properly, so she had her arm outstretched holding the phone. "Hah, my. What would be important and urgent, Sally?" You asked and Sally quickly walked back to where the phone wasn't stretched out. Out of sight. "Guess what? Guess what!" Sally excitedly asked you, you chuckled. "Hm, you decided not to set your sets on 'fire' anymore." Sally started to say no, but then paused as she processed what you said. The line was silent until Sally broke the silence with an "Uhh, no… But it's something similar like that!"

"Similar? Oh my, you didn't decide to set the characters on 'fire' did you?" Sally gasped in mock offence. "How dare you think that of me? I'm almost flattered!" Laughter was shared between the two. "But listen." Sally got your attention after the giggles. "I finally finished the script for my new scene!" Sally told you the surprise and you quickly congratulated her happily. You remember that you helped her with some parts. This was very important to her. You're happy for her. "Ah, can you come by the house later? I want to show you in person!" Sally asked you with enthusiasm and you agreed with the same level of happiness. "Of course! I'm happy to hear your story. Maybe even act it out?" The two of you chatted until you agreed that you still had things to do. Returning the phone to the hook, you smilingly celebrated your best friend's work, and were even excited to take along the newly made shoes for her, Sally would be so happy! While you were celebrating, you heard knocking on your door. Observing your colorful door, you decided to go to it and open it, assuming it would be the mailman Eddie, since that was the normal time he appeared.

Opening the door, you saw a package on your porch floor, addressed to you. You instantly recognized that the package contained the new faux leathers for shoe making. Smiling when seeing the order. You looked at Eddie the mailman closing your mailbox after putting some letters in. Eddie saw you standing in the doorway and decided to say hello. You happily bent down and took the box in hand, lifting one up to wave at Eddie. Thanking him for the delivery. He smiled, tipping his hat slightly. He soon left as he had more deliveries. You saw that you had letters in your mailbox and decided to leave your door open. Entering the house to leave the heavy package on the table. You took off your fluffy slippers and put on your normal shoes to go outside. Passing by your porch, you went down the stairs and walked to the mailbox, lifting the tiny door you observed some letters inside. You heard some steps near you, taking the letters in hand, you looked to the side and saw none other than Wally. He stopped walking and looked at you. Noticing the presence of the puppet, you soon smiled greeting him. "Oh. Greetings, Wally!" You raised your unoccupied hand to wave at him. The puppet looked down at your hands full of letters and softened his gaze. "Good morning, (Name)." Wally greeted you with a nod of the head. "Beautiful day, isn't it?" He said taking his eyes off you, looking straight ahead. You looked where he was looking and saw the blue sky with the sun illuminating the place, at the end of the tiled road there was Julie, throwing a pebble on the ground. "Yup, perfect for relaxing, playing or just reading a book in general." You smiled placing your other hand on the letters. You heard the man in blue hummed in agreement. At the end of the road Julie ended up getting your attention with a very aggressive wave of her hands.

Someone was excited. You chuckled, greeting her with a calmer wave. Wally said goodbye and continued on his way, going to Julie. You watched the two puppets at the end of the street start talking, Julie making a lot of movements as she spoke, and the other one stayed in the same place, moving only his head. Smiling you looked down at your hands, happy to see some colorful letters. You took one last look inside the mailbox, and a quick glance. Out of the corner of your eyes. You looked straight at Wally's house.

. . .

Why did you do that?

. . .

You froze.

You stopped your gaze at the tree behind Poppy's house. But that wasn't what made your fragile heart stop.

Moving your eyes to Wally's house, Home. You thought you saw things. You thought your imagination was playing tricks on you. That what you saw at a glance was a mistake.

But stopping your eyes at the window on the side of Wally's house... You can say that the world has stopped. That the silence was so great that it seemed deafening. You inadvertently twitched your hand with a quick movement, not even realizing that your letters were all on the floor now.

You twiched your eye, not realizing the shock this gave you. As soon as you got back to thinking. You withdrew your gaze from the house and looked across to where Wally was. He was there. Quietly talking to Julie.

How? How? How??? You saw it! You saw it! Wally was inside the house staring at you. It wasn't Wally, was it? It wasn't possible. It wasn't possible. You saw two Wally's. You ARE seeing two Wally's! Looking at the red house and between the end of the street you just couldn't stand to be out there. It was too much for you. Running inside, you closed the door and leaned against the wall beside it. Covering your mouth with your hands, you felt out of breath. Breathless. That earlier radio that hummed upbeat songs was now nothing more than static. It was too much. You had your paranoia. You knew some things were too good, you scare easily, yes. It's complicated on your part, but you always had good friends. That they were careful and knew that you were very easily startled. That you thought too much about certain things, like unusual noises. And you knew your 'Wally' paranoia. You knew he also had a specific way about him, everyone knew. But for some reason sometimes you couldn't swallow some things related to him. And now what you saw outside has left you in complete despair. Wally has always been a good neighbor and friend. It made no sense that you would feel that way about him. That something bad, really bad was happening. Just like everyone else, Wally was there for you anything you needed. Same thing with others. So with a few silent minutes, you managed to regain some of your focus, and changed your way of thinking. It was a mistake. It was definitely an error that you saw something that wasn't there. With a shaky sigh you opened the door quickly, mentally regretting it. But when you looked at the house, there was nothing there. Would that be a good sign or definitely something to be concerned about? Because if you accidentally mistook for something, then something must be there. But there was nothing. Looking at the end of the road, you also saw no one. Not Julie, not Wally, nobody. Frowning with wide eyes, you looked at the ground in front of your house. Spotting all the papers and letters scattered across the floor. With the frown that remained on your face. You cautiously left your house. Going to the mess you made. Pausing by the mailbox, you sighed shakily, watching the floor. With your eyes starting to fill with liquid you raised your hands to your face. Why are you so paranoid that you torture yourself? "Hello, neighbor."

. . .

In pauses, you lifted your head forward. Slowly, you turned your head to the side, still leaving your hands in the same place. Your eyes stopped to see none other than… Wally. You couldn't figure it out if you stared at him with wide eyes for more than five minutes. But you know he cut the silence by saying "Oh, what's with that face? You look like you've seen a ghost." He said with a smile on his face. You know he's just kidding, but it still makes you unwilling to act. Turning your head to the side, you look at the ground. "You have no idea." At this point, you don't know if you want to communicate about what you were going through, you didn't want to be there.

Suddenly a hand touches your shoulder. You don't react. Just look at it. Wally looks at you more closely, his eyes were half open, his monotone voice was… strange. It wasn't the same as earlier. "What's the matter, neighbor? You don't normally frown." You pause. Really thinking about telling him what you saw.

"I…" You open your mouth, and without much thought you tell Wally what you saw, and how it affected you. You didn't want that. "I saw. Two of you. I saw you with Julie. But I saw someone at your house. You? I…I-I don't know what to think. I know I think too much, I see things that aren't there because of this and it's messing with me- I-." Suddenly you feel a hand on your cheek, you stop talking to look at the man in blue beside you. Wally leaned in close and looked at your cheek. You stood still. "Hm, you cracked again." Wally said watching the tiny cracks made in your porcelain skin, you didn't even notice. He took his hand off the crack and took your hands in his. "At my house, you say? Hm." He thought humming. You just watched him. "Would you be calmer if I showed you that there's nothing there? That maybe there was a misunderstanding?" Wally proposed this idea calmly, raising your hands together with his. "I…I think…" You thought about it for a moment. There was Wally again. Being friendly and welcoming. How could you think that Wally had something bad going on? The same continued to speak. "And I can't leave you here with a crack without anyone either. It wouldn't be very neighborly of me." Wally said with a friendly smile on his face, his eyes still half open. "I suppose…" You commented quietly, a smile slipping slightly. Now a little quieter and not as hectic as before. Wally noticed this. "Oh, there you are." He commented watching your smile form. "You look so much better with a smile, neighbor." Wally complimented you, you laughed weakly and low. "Now, should we go?" He offered you his hand, you rubbed your hand over your eye, still uncertain from the fact of what you actually saw, but Wally's behavior made you a little calmer, so you got a little bit of courage to go along. Taking his hand. "That crack isn't going to heal on its own. Luckily I always have some glue, just in case." Wally said in his monotone voice, even though he had a smile on his face. He walked with you. To his house. Where you had seen things.

. . .

At the other end of the sidewalk, where Julie and Wally were last, there was a catch. Something you haven't seen. It was the fact that Julie and Wally were still talking, but they went to Julie's garden to talk and see the spring flowers.

. . .

It was simple to say that you walked on your own to something you weren't going to get back.

-Wooah, I had this idea in the middle of nowhere. And I enjoyed writing it. Despite the ending. :) Idk if I'm going to start a series with this theme, I kinda like it-

[the0doreslover]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐮𝐬 𝐥𝐮𝐩𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 + 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝

————————————————————————

1- common room

Within the cozy confines of the Gryfindor common room, a soft crackling fire bathed the room in a warm, flickering glow. Remus sat nestled in an armchair, “Fantastic Beasts” open in his lap. Yet, his thoughts weren’t anchored to the words on the page; they wandered, inevitably drawn to a certain someone who occupied his mind more often than he cared to admit.

The firelight danced upon his features, accentuating the lines of concentration that creased his forehead. The rhythmic ticking of the nearby clock was a soothing backdrop as he traced his fingers along the intricate text, absorbing information. But even the most captivating descriptions couldn't compete with the vivid image etched in his memory – the gentle curve of her smile, the way her eyes light up when she speaks about something she loves.

almost like the way his eyes light up when he sees her

As if summoned by his wistful thoughts, the common room's door creaked open, and your figure graced the threshold. Remus's heart froze in his chest, and his breath caught at the sight of you. Your steps were purposeful, your presence commanding attention without you having to say a word.

Lost in his own world, Remus was jolted back to reality by your voice. "Remus, do you know where the book on magical creatures is? I can't seem to find it."

your inquiry hung in the air, and his eyes met yours. The room seemed to pulse with shared vulnerability. His heart raced as he managed a small smile. "I think it's on the second shelf from the top, right over there."

Your lips curled into a grateful smile. "Thank you, Remus. You're a lifesaver."

your appreciation for his assistance sent a warmth rippling through him, and he watched as you crossed the room to the bookshelf. His pulse quickened as you reached for the book, your fingers grazing the spine.

With the book in your grasp, You turned back to him, your eyes locking onto his with an unspoken connection. In that charged moment, the words he yearned to say hovered at the tip of his tongue, begging for release. He wanted to tell you that your presence was a drug to his soul, that your smile illuminated even the darkest corners of his life. Yet, as his heart raced and his pulse pounded in his ears, shyness clung to him like a weighty cloak, muting his feelings and chaining his words.

his eyes followed your figure as you left, leaving him with even more to say to you than before.

2- the black lake

The night, a tapestry of inky darkness adorned with the silver threads of stars, stretched over the Hogwarts grounds like a lover's embrace. Remus found himself drawn to the serenity of the lake, its still waters mirroring the secrets he carried within. The full moon hung in the sky, a radiant orb that illuminated the night in its ethereal glow.

Seated on the edge of the lake, Remus dipped his fingers into the cool water, the ripples echoing the tumultuous emotions he harbored. He hadn't intended to spend the night outside, but the allure of the stars had beckoned him from the confines of the castle.

As if answering the call of fate, soft footfalls approached, the sound barely audible against the backdrop of remus’s heartbeat. Remus turned, and his heart quickened even more if even possible as your figure emerged from the shadows. To him you moved with a grace that seemed to belong to the night itself, your steps deliberate and unhurried.

"Remus," you greeted, your voice a gentle murmur that held a hint of delight. "What are you doing out here?"

He managed a small smile, his heart fluttering as he took in your presence. "Just enjoying the peace."

you settled beside him, the scent of your perfume mingling with the cool night air. Together, you gazed at the moon, lost in a companionable silence. The atmosphere crackled with an unspoken understanding, a connection that went beyond words.

As the conversation flowed, you spoke of your dreams, the words carrying a weight of vulnerability that belied your casual tone. You shared stories of her family, painting vivid images of your childhood. Remus, in turn, allowed himself to peel back layers of his guarded persona, revealing parts of himself he rarely exposed.

Your laughter, melodious and genuine, carried on the wind, intermingling with the lapping of the water against the shore. In that moment, the barriers between you both seemed to dissolve, and Remus felt a longing to confide in you, to let you into the depths of his heart. He wanted to tell you that he had cared about you for longer than he could remember, that your presence was a beacon in the storm of his life.

Your gaze turned to him, eyes soft and understanding. "Remus, there's something about you… something I can't quite put into words."

He felt his heart race, his pulse thrumming in his ears. This was his moment, a chance to unburden his heart. He swallowed the lump in his throat, his voice betraying a mixture of vulnerability and hope. "Y/N, there's something I've wanted to say for a long time."

your gaze held a question, an unspoken curiosity that hung between them like a thread waiting to be woven into something more profound.

“i-” he froze, as if the words got caught in his throat “im cold, goodnight”

And with that he left you in your own thoughts

3- the yule ball

The Yule Ball, a night of enchantment and elegance, had transformed the Great Hall into a dreamscape of beauty and opulence. The air was alive with the tinkling of laughter, the swish of gowns, and the soft murmur of conversations that ebbed and flowed like a current.

Remus Lupin stood on the edge of the crowd, observing the scene before him with a mixture of awe and trepidation.

The ballroom seemed to come alive with the music of the orchestra, a melody that tugged at heartstrings and beckoned couples to the dance floor. Remus watched as his friends and their partners twirled and swayed in graceful harmony, their laughter and smiles painting a picture of joy and connection. He felt like a spectator in a world he didn't fully understand, an outsider gazing at a scene that was beautiful but unattainable.

His eyes, despite his best intentions, found their way to You. To him you moved with an ethereal grace, your gown flowing like liquid moonlight as you danced with lily and marlene. Your laughter was a melody that reached his ears even amidst the other sounds of the ballroom. With each twirl, your smile radiated a warmth that felt like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

In the midst of the enchanting spectacle, Remus's chest tightened, and a pang of longing seized him. He yearned to be the one who held you, who spun you around the dance floor, who made you laugh so freely. But his fear, that unrelenting specter that whispered words of inadequacy, held him captive.

As the night wore on, he found himself retreating to a quieter corner of the Great Hall, his footsteps guided by a mix of disappointment and self-doubt. The laughter of couples and the melodies of the orchestra reached his ears, and he sank into the shadows, trying to hide his feelings behind a mask of indifference.

"Remus, are you enjoying the ball?"

The soft voice, familiar and comforting, pierced through the fog of his thoughts. He turned to see You standing before him, your gown shimmering in the gentle light. your expression was one of concern, your eyes searching his as if trying to decipher the storm that raged within him.

His lips curved into a smile, albeit a faint one. "Yes, it's a lovely event."

You stepped closer, your presence a lifeline that tugged him back from the edge of his thoughts. "You seem a bit distant tonight. Is something bothering you?"

The kindness in your voice was both a balm and a challenge. It was as if you could see through the facade he had constructed. The urge to confide in you, to bare his soul and let you in on the struggles you faced, was a powerful tide that threatened to overwhelm him.

He looked into your eyes, so full of empathy and understanding. For a fleeting moment, he considered sharing his feelings, of telling you how your very presence made his heart race. But the fear, the nagging belief that he wasn't enough, held him captive.

"It's nothing, really. Just lost in my thoughts," he replied, his tone casual even though his heart was anything but.

Your expression softened, and you reached out to gently touch his arm, her fingers warm against his skin sending sparks all up to his heart . "Well, if you ever want to talk, I'm here."

you made a move to walk away, and blame it on the alcohol his friends had forced down him but he reached for your arm

“i love you”

His chest tightened, and he felt a lump form in his throat. This was his moment, every whispered confession he had kept hidden within himself. The weight of his feelings, the longing that had accompanied him for so long, seemed to hang in the air, begging for release.

"Y/N," he said, his voice trembling with the rawness of his emotions. "I love you. I've loved you for so long, but I've been too afraid to say it, the way you look in the light! even the dark. I love you, The way you smile, they way you laugh, hell even the way you cry."

“remus” you tried stopping him

“no wait! i’m not done, the way you always check up on me, even if i’m the happiest man on earth, the way that you look after me after my burden and the way that you-”

"Remus Lupin, I love you too."

The scene seemed to stand still as their unspoken feelings converged.

“do you know how many times i’ve dreamt you saying that to me?” he said pulling you closer to him by your arm

“how about you show me?” you grinned as he leaned in to meet your lips.

Once you both pulled away, their eyes met once more. Ignoring the eyes of their friends they only stared at each other

“about bloody time” sirius said while receiving a bag of coins from peter.

“shut it” lily said slapping the back of his head.

“let’s go somewhere quiet?” you asked

“you don’t have to ask” he grinned

[darcydarlingdabbles]

At Autumn's End ~ Part 1

RadioApple🍂Human Au/Age Gap 🍁Top!Dom!Alastor

🍂Divorced Dad!Lucifer🍁Explicit~ 8.1k

Follow on AO3

🍂🍁🍃

Lucifer Morningstar stood on the deck of the family's chalet, breathing the crisp mountain air, determined to carry on this family tradition. Even if he was doing it alone. He'd do it for Charlie.

Blazing autumn leaves floated down from the towering oaks and caused ripples along the surface of the mirror lake below. Lucifer gripped to the rough hewn railing, grounding himself, determined to just be normal for once since the divorce.

The two-story cabin was the perfect place. With its walls mostly made of windows overlooking the last gasp of beautiful fall foliage, a fully stocked kitchen, fire pit, two hot tubs, and the smell of wood smoke still lingering from the fireplace he'd prepped.

Charlie had always loved their farewell to fall getaway. And Lucifer was ready for a relaxing weekend, bundled up in cozy sweaters with warm mugs of spiced cider.

And Charlie's new girlfriend would just make the merrier.

Sure, Lucifer had met her before, sure, he'd made a bit of a fool of himself trying so hard not to be awkward that he'd overdone the gracious host bit and come back around to painfully awkward again.

So, there was a lot riding on this relaxing weekend.

Lucifer jumped, catching his sweater on the balcony when he registered the sound of tires crunching their way up the gravel drive.

He hurried back into the main living room, grabbing up the last few things—throwing fluffy pillows back onto the loveseat and the two armchairs, making sure everything was perfect.

He paused at the wall of windows. Already grinning as he saw Charlie's tank of an old SUV made its way across the carpet of leaves. The front doors open, depositing his beaming daughter and her scowling girlfriend out into the autumn air. When one of the back doors opened, and a long pair of legs emerged.

Right. Charlie had asked to bring her roommate this year.

Look, call Lucifer old fashion—his daughter was bi and so was he—but he'd blanched when he heard his little girl had a male roommate. Thought the school was being way too modern when they changed the dorm policy to co-ed roommates.

But the young man before him was nothing like Lucifer pictured for a college roommate.

Alastor stood there, exuding a calm assurance that seemed almost out of place amidst the playful chaos of falling leaves.

His skin was a warm, rich brown, contrasting beautifully with the soft dark curls that framed his face. Round, wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, framing bright hazel eyes. A well-tailored coat hugged his long and lean frame.

Despite the nip in the air, he looked impeccably comfortable, like the cold wouldn't dare touch him without permission.

A pretty gay twink if he'd ever seen one.

Not remotely Lucifer's type, not going to be‌ a problem.

With a deep breath, the short blonde turned away from the wall of windows, stealing himself to play the indulgent parent who just wanted his grown little girl to have a good weekend with her friends.

Alastor. The kid's name was Alastor. He remembered Charlie practically dancing on his heartstrings with how her roommate was facing his first school break without his mother.

Lucifer was pretty much incapable of refusing his daughter's wishes, divorced dad guilt, but how could he ever say no after that?

The chilled autumn air gusted in as Lucifer opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch--and right into the middle of a conversation.

"Yeah my family's been coming to this challette for years." Charlie was saying gleefully.

"Chalet, my dear." Alastor interjected in a voice that was shockingly smooth as velvet. "It's pronounced shal-ay,"

"Whatever," Charlie shrugged, unfazed by the correction, like it happened all the time.

"Yeah, whatever." Vaggie echoed emphatically, shooting a glare at Alastor over Charlie's shoulder. "Not like it matters."

Alastor's eyes rolled from the picturesque scenery towards the short woman with long black hair and tawny skin. A silent glare passed between them.

"Hey Dad!" Charlie called out, lighting up like a sunset as she bounded towards him. Her laugh was like wind chimes and her smile was playful.

Warming Lucifer right to his core.

"Hey Char-Char!" He barely had time to brace himself before Charlie collided with him full-force, her energy and arms wrapping around him. Hugging him without an ounce of holding back.

God, he missed this.

The mountains were already working their magic. 

"Whoa, careful there." Lucifer laughed, his heart swelling happily. "Missed you so much kiddo."

"Missed you too, dad." Charlie set him back on his feet with a grin.

Vaggie was right at her side, just behind, loyal and stern-faced as ever. Alastor lingered further behind.

Lucifer turned to his daughter's girlfriend, unsure if he should go for a handshake before he extended his arms and gave what was a slightly more restrained hug.

Okay, so it was stiff and awkward, but he was trying.

Vaggie reciprocated politely, though the discomfort lingered between them like an unwanted guest.

"Good to see you again, Mr. Moringstar,"

"Please, call me Lucifer." He reminded her gently, trying to bridge a little of the gap formality put between them.

Vaggie gave a brief nod—but hey, it was a start.

Lucifer then shifted his attention to Alastor ‌and before he could worry about making his terrible first impression—it was like the swirling red and gold leaves all went still.

The air went from brisk to sharply cold, biting into Lucifer's exposed skin and turning his face pink.

From a distance, through the window, he'd imagined Alastor was a sweet little harmless gay boy.

But now, Lucifer's assumptions were crumbling under the reality of Alastor's silently overwhelming presence.

Alastor stood there, the little smile playing on his lips, exuding an undeniable aura of dominance and control.

Those hazel eyes that looked soft and inviting through the window now pinned him like a butterfly with his precise gaze.

It was like staring down a damn mountain lion, a graceful creature that was only staying still while it suited him.

Lucifer questioned every ounce of gaydar he'd ever had.

And then, the hazel eyes locked on his. And Lucifer felt like the mountain was about to slip out from under his feet.

Those eyes weren't as remotely soft as he imagined. And it was like they could see right through the thick knit of his cozy sweater. To everything that Lucifer would rather hide.

Here he was, recently divorced, depressed, an insomniac who soothed his emotions and stilled his mind by making fool meals at midnight, being looked at like that.

His self-esteem still hadn't recovered from the end of his relationship with Lilith, and he was utterly unprepared for such an intense, self-assured man--who was half his age!

Then, the corners of Alastor's lips curled into a smile--and even the suggestion that he liked what he saw, sent heat rushing into Lucifer's cheeks.

"Oh, Alastor." Charlie seemed to appear suddenly, breaking the moment like a twig snapping underfoot. She stepped forward, grabbing the younger man's arm with the kind of graceless enthusiasm that only his daughter could pull off. "This is my dad, Lucifer."

Alastor gave a chuckle that made Lucifer forget there was a chill in the air.

"Mr.Morningstar." Alastor replied smoothly, extending a hand towards the blonde.

Who had to get over the fact that his charm cast an instant spell and were wrapping around Lucifer like silk.

Lucifer extended his hand on instinct, about to give the same reminder as he gave Vaggie about using his first name, hoping that it would dispel some of the swirling tension simmering in the air between them.

But, before Lucifer could form the words, he felt his h and enveloped in Alastor's.

The dark-haired man's grasp was firm as iron. As if that weren't enough to knock Lucifer off balance, Alastor's other hand came to clasp his wrist, pulling him in with a silent force that sent his heart racing into his throat.

It was a dominant, decisive gesture that left no room for his intentions to be misunderstood.

Lucifer stumbled over his words and nearly over his own feet, leaves crunching under his boots.

"The pleasure's all yours, isn't it?" Alastor's voice was all smoothness and certainty.

"Uh, yeah." Lucifer managed to reply, realizing that his voice came out like a breathless murmur.

He really hoped that his flamed cheeks would be counted to the chilly wind nipping at his exposed skin--not the fluttering spark he was promptly smothering.

Lucifer finally remembered to release Alastor's hand, and fully retreat back into the role of host.

"Let me help with the back—bags." The words tumbled out quickly as he hurried around Charlie's old SUV. Anything to redirect his focus from this heat rising inside him.

Busying himself helping Charlie and Vaggie, and ignoring the young man next to him also moving to help, with that silent smirk.

Lucifer went to grab a suitcase that he recognized belonged to his daughter—which he should have realized was over-packed as always—and nearly fell from the trunk onto him.

Alastor's hand shot out, catching the bag by the handle, and setting it neatly on its wheels.

"Careful," he teased lightly, in that ringing velvet voice of his. "Not to bite off more than you can chew."

Lucifer swallowed, refusing to let his mind lean into the implication of those words.

"I can handle it." Lucifer huffed, grabbing the suitcase stubbornly.

Alastor gave a smirk and a shrug.

Lucifer hurried up the front porch into the chalet, realizing how severely he'd underestimated Alastor's slender frame and fastidious dressing.

There was nothing twink about Alastor.

He was a commanding presence wrapped in charm and elegance. And everything Lucifer found attractive.

That thought nearly stopped the man dead in his tracks.

Sure, he was recently divorced from Lilith. And he'd been in a dry spell ever since—but he quickly banished the entire stupid notion. There were only a million reasons why it wasn't even worth a thought.

He was a recently divorced dad, not so much rocking the dad bod as falling into it one midnight snack at a time. He'd never been confident enough to approach anyone without Lilith. There was no way he would be interested in Lucifer. Alastor was young, gorgeous, and obviously charismatic.

Besides, the kid was half his age.

Lucifer shook the thought from his head.

This weekend was about reconnecting with Charlie, a growing bond with Vaggie, hopefully. And fully restarting this family tradition.

Not a tryst with a pretty boy half his age.

🍂🍁🍃

Lucifer lead the way up the wide staircase to the second floor of the chalet.

This part of the house was mostly loft. Another comfortable seating area that looked down over the living room and fireplace. But it was where most of the bedrooms were in the cabin.

Charlie and Vaggie were talking animatedly all the way up and past the seating area towards the bedrooms. Talking about the beautiful scenic views and the winding road that had gotten them up the mountain.

But Lucifer's attention kept wandering right back to Alastor. Who wasn't doing anything but carrying the girls' extra bags and lingering behind and being silent and cryptic.

"Here we are," Lucifer announced, pushing open the door to Charlie's room with his elbow.

It was quaint, really, but he'd redecorated a bit since Charlie had grown up. And he really hoped he hadn't overdone it. Charlie had liked it bright and colorful when she was a kid, except for that one emo phase.

But now, there were simple flower curtains and soft plush carpeting. Overlooking the towering forest outside.

"I made the room up for two, you know, obviously, because you're grown now." Lucifer said, meaning to sound supportive, though he saw Charlie's cheeks get as pink as his were outside. And Vaggie looking anywhere but at him. "Which, I understand and I'm not judging because obviously...you're an adult and—" Lucifer trailed off, painfully awkward—

Before Charlie thankfully but gracelessly interrupted. "Thanks, Dad! The room looks great."

Alastor chuckled softly, stepping into the girl's room only long enough to drop off the two bags he was holding. Before stepping back over the threshold neatly.

Like a gentleman wouldn't be standing too long in a lady's room.

Except a gentleman wouldn't look at him like he would devour him like he was going to devour him the first time they met. Or, like, right now, in his daughter's room.

Vaggie and Charlie went into their room. Leaving Lucifer to find himself alone in the hallway. With Alastor.

"Uh, yours is over there." Lucifer quickly gestured across the hall, trying to make sure his voice cut through the thick tension.

"Thank you." Alastor said simply, with what must be his polite smile—and not his I'm about to undress you with my eyes smile.

The younger man stepped alertly inside, dropping off only a simple weekend bag and a leather school bag.

Lucifer turned, only to see Alastor leaning over the doorway towards him. And he suddenly felt like he was standing too close to a roaring fire.

"Where is your room, Mr. Morningstar?" Alastor's voice cut through the quiet, smooth and spiked with something that made Lucifer's pulse quicken. It was pointed and almost suggestive.

"Not up here." Lucifer blurted around the tumultuous flutter in his chest. He realized it came out almost, defensive. That he was nearly snapping at this stranger for this thing that was mostly going on in his head.

Though the way Alastor arched his eyebrow, Lucifer seriously doubted it was all in his head.

"Downstairs. I mean," Lucifer said, trying to smooth his little outburst over.His mind raced, trying to think of anything to fill this charged silence between them.

"Dad has the master bedroom downstairs," Charlie chirped, her sudden reappearance in the hallway breaking the spell. Her eyes were bright and sparkling with something. "It even has its own hot tub!"

Lucifer swallowed, thickly.

"How interesting." Alastor murmured, a crooked smile tugging onto the corner of his lips. Fucking suggestive again.

"It's not, all that interesting." Lucifer said, too quickly jumping on this irrational urge to stifle whatever idea had taken hold. "And you won't be seeing it, anyway."

He muttered under his breath, languishing in that same stretching silence, before Lucifer forced a hollow chuckle to break it.

"So, I'm sure you kids had a long drive from school up the mountain." Lucifer fumbled the words a little bit, swinging his arms as he stepped back towards the stairs. "So I made an early dinner. Fall favorites I know Char-Char loves."

"That sounds amazing, sir," Vaggie said, strolling through whatever moment of silent communication Alastor and Charlie were having between them.

"Yeah, long drive, mountain, food." He gestured down the stairs, grateful to move down towards them.

"Food sounds amazing right about now." Charlie declared, following after him, passing him on the stairs in her enthusiasm to get down to the kitchen.

Lucifer grabbed the railing, pausing halfway down the curved staircase—realizing he knew and missed the feeling of the weight of Alastor's gaze on his back.

Neither Alastor or Vaggie had moved.

She had stepped into his line of sight, her stance firm and uncompromising, with her hands planted on her hips. Like she was daring Alastor to make another move.

The much taller man was meeting Vaggie's sternness with a little bemused look behind his round glasses. Lucifer felt like he was eavesdropping on a private conversation.

But before the tension could escalate further, Alastor inclined his head, and gestured gracefully for Vaggie to walk ahead of him.

The woman, three times as fierce as she was tall, gave a short, satisfied nod, and headed for the stairs behind Lucifer.

***

The kitchen was his realm.

It was his studio and his sanctuary where Lucifer could control and create whatever he wanted. And the smell of roasted butternut squash and cinnamon scented the air and made everything feel warm and fuzzy.

"Here we are." Lucifer murmured to himself, rolling up his sleeves with practiced ease.

He could move through this space with confidence, arranging platers with finesse.

Pumpkin soup simmered gently on the stove, its rich color a warm promise. He'd also made an arugula salad with pecans and cranberries, will the apple tart was cooling on the counter, ready for dessert.

Charlie bounded into the kitchen, her eyes widening with delight that soothed every ache in Lucifer's old soul.

"You really outdid yourself, Dad!"

"Oh, thanks, sweetie."

The clinking of cutlery and the soft murmur of conversation filled the cozy dining room, casting a warm glow over the table as the sun set beyond the wall of windows.

Lucifer sat happily at the head of the small but polished mahogany table, just enjoying the company. His eyes flitting between emptying dishes and the easy conversation flowing in peaks and valleys.

"Midterms were killer." Charlie groaned.

Vaggie put her hand on Charlie's, drawing Lucifer's eyes to the movement. And it warmed his heart too. "You did great hon, I know you rocked the performing arts major."

"Well, someone has to keep politicians honest, like you're going to, Vaggie."

Sure, it was cute, sweet talk, but really Lucifer didn't mind. He was glad his daughter had this. That the girls seemed to take such good care of each other. And support each other.

"Performing arts is hard, but it's worth every second."

Lucifer nodded along. Offering an occasional chuckle or hum of agreement.

He wasn't exactly sure what he could add to the conversation, but he knew he had to keep focused on anything but the magnetic pull towards Alastor's seat at the table.

The gorgeous brunette younger man sat across the table from him, muted but present, like a shadow cast by candlelight.

"Oh, Al," Charlie started, startling her father. Wondering if she had read his wandering mind—but also wondering if anyone but charlie would dare to call Alastor a nickname.

"You haven't been talking much. Did you tell Dad your major?"

The brunette lifted his eyes, making Lucifer's breath catch, before he gave a casual shrug as he stirred his soup.

"I'm a double major." He said, his eyes catching Lucifer's. And the older man's breath. "in performing arts and forensic science."

Though the answer made his own brow raise. "Wow, that's...an unusual combination."

Alastor smiled like he had a secret everyone else wanted to know.

"I've been told I have...eclectic tastes." He said, smoothly, leaning back in his chair like he commanded all the air in the room. "But, I know exactly what I like, and where my talents are."

The words hung in the air, a subtle challenge that was sending another one of those damn shivers down Lucifer's spine.

Before the heat could rise back into his cheeks, Lucifer stood. "I think it's time for dessert," he announced, retreating to the safety of the kitchen.

When he returned, with a tray of apple tart and ice cream, his gaze involuntarily flickered over towards Alastor.

The younger man was leaned back in his chair, his hands rested on the arms, his posture open wide...and inviting.

"Who wants whipped cream?" Lucifer said quickly, only to wince at how easy that would be to twist around.

He heard Alastor chuckle low as both girls asked for ice cream, shaking his head gently. Like he knew it would be too easy, too.

Lucifer kept his eyes on slicing and scooping as he served.

He gave Charlie a generous portion, and Vaggie. Swallowing and trying to steal himself as he turned to Alastor.

"Ice cream?" He offered.

The younger man smirked. "Just the whipped cream." Alastor said, and it was thankfully the most normal and unsuggestive tone he had ever used and Lucifer was grateful.

Until the younger scooped up a spoonful of tart, and shot Lucifer another one of those smirks. "I don't like sweets, usually."

Lucifer huffed, turning to his own tart. "Well, then, you won't like much I make." turning back to his own portion. And nearly burying it in whipped cream.

But he swore he heard Alastor say. "We'll see."

***

As Lucifer straightened up from adding the logs to the fire, the warmth of the flames now a comforting presence against the chill of the mountain night, he caught sight of Alastor's gaze.

The younger man's eyes were unapologetically fixed on him, a small, knowing smile playing at the corners of his lips. Which made Lucifer realize that Alastor had been watching him bent over the fireplace—and there wasn’t even a hint of embarrassment on his face for having been caught staring at the older man’s ass.

Instead, Alastor’s stare was steady, almost challenging, daring Lucifer to acknowledge it, to call him out.

For a moment, the short blonde felt suspended—But he didn't say anything. He couldn't. The admonition seemed to lodge in his throat, and he turned back to the crackling fire to distract him.

"Here we go," Charlie said brightly, breaking the tension as she settled back onto the sofa next to Vaggie. She picked up the remote and began flicking through the movie options. "Perfect end to a long day."

"Definitely," Vaggie agreed, leaning into her girlfriend, their shared warmth evident.

Alastor sat in one of the arm chairs, one knee bent as he leaned casually. Confident as a house cat surveying his domain, and eyeing the canary cage.

Lucifer hesitated for just a moment before sinking into the plush armchair directly across from Alastor. It was impossible not to be aware of how this arrangement placed them facing each other. His mind raced with thoughts of their earlier exchange.

But Alastor's attention was now focused on the flickering flames, the light casting shadows that danced across his face and glinting in his glasses, obscuring his expression.

The room filled with the soft sounds of the movie beginning, but Lucifer found his own focus wandering, drawn irresistibly back to the man opposite him.

"Hey, how about we switch to something more fun?" Charlie interrupted, a lighthearted suggestion as she picked up the remote once more. "Like a baking show!"

"Sounds good," Vaggie agreed, with a nod.

Lucifer watched as the screen flickered to life with images of powdered sugar and expertly piped frosting. The cheerful narration filled the room.

"Do you bake much, Lucifer?" Alastor asked suddenly, turning his head slightly, just enough to suggest that his attention had finally shifted from the flames.

"Here and there," Lucifer replied, trying to sound casual, though he was acutely aware of the younger man's focus now fixed on him. "I find it...relaxing."

"An outlet for creativity," Alastor remarked, his voice smooth, yet there was an undercurrent of something unspoken, something that tugged at the edge of Lucifer's curiosity.

"Exactly," Lucifer said, nodding, feeling encouraged by the easy warmth of the conversation. For a moment, he wondered what thoughts swirled beneath Alastor's composed exterior. 

The four of them fell into a comfortable rhythm, exchanging light banter about the basics of souffles and the perfect pie crust. But, Lucifer sensed Alastor's mind wandering, as if part of him was elsewhere.

Without warning, Alastor stood. "I think I'll turn in for the night," he announced, his tone polite but distant. "Goodnight, everyone."

"Night, Al," Charlie chimed. While Vaggie didn’t give much more than a nod in his direction.

"Goodnight," Lucifer added, watching as Alastor made his way toward the stairs, leaving behind an air of unresolved tension.

As the sound of his door closing echoed from above, Vaggie leaned closer to Charlie, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Something’s off with him."

"Vaggie, he’s just not super social." Charlie assured, though concern was knitting her brow.

Lucifer listened quietly. There was an undeniable pull toward Alastor, a desire to unravel the mystery he presented.But uncertainty lingered as well, like the shadows cast by the embers floating from the logs burning low in the hearth.

"He's been through a lot," Charlie's voice broke through his thoughts, tender and resolute. Her gaze was fixed on the fireplace, but her words were directed at Vaggie. "He misses his mother. And he never mentions his dad. It's been almost a year since she passed."

Lucifer felt a tug at his heartstrings. He knew what it was like to be lonely. He’d felt rudderless since his divorce, drifting on the open ocean—most times, he felt like he was fighting just to tread water. Looking for anything to anchor to.

"That makes sense, I guess," Vaggie murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

Charlie nodded, her expression softening. "Yeah. He’s a sweet guy, deep down, just a bit…aloof."

Vaggie shot her girlfriend a look, but Lucifer

"Poor guy," Lucifer said quietly, more to himself than anyone else. "I should—" He hesitated. "—go finish cleaning up after dinner," he finally decided, rising from his seat. It was easier to focus on tasks, to keep his hands busy while his mind wandered.

“Charlie,” Vaggie said, just barely loud enough to be heard over the baking show contestants panicking about their ovens. “Are you sure it was a good idea to bring him here?”

"I’m pretty sure,” Charlie said brightly, her eyes still on the screen—like she was hiding something. "I think Dad and Alastor might have more in common than you think."

“What?” Vaggie blanched.

"Just…they’re both kind of old souls, you know." Charlie shrugged, a knowing smile playing on her lips that she was failing to hide. "Sometimes, those kinds of people connect on a different level."

"Charlie," Vaggie interjected skeptically, her arms crossed over her chest. "Is that really a good idea."

"I know Alastor better than you do, Vaggie. Trust me on this."

"Sure," Vaggie replied, though doubt lingered in her tone. "If you say so."

🍂🍁🍃

The chalet was silent, save for the quiet padding of Lucifer’s bare feet on the cool wooden floor. Shadows danced across the walls as he slipped into the kitchen, the moonlight filtering through the large window and casting an ethereal glow over the room.

 The oversized sweater he wore hung loosely, its stretched neck drooping off one shoulder, baring the ridge of his collarbone to the cool air. And his duckie pajama bottoms hung loosely from his hips.

Lucifer let out a sigh, and leaned against the counter for a moment, letting the stillness envelop him. 

Insomnia had become his only bedfellow these days. And tonight, he was being lured back into the kitchen by the promise of a snack—something sweet but that he could pretend was still healthy.

His gaze fell upon the bowl of green apples he had picked up from a market. Nice and tart, and would go perfectly with the jar of local honey sitting invitingly on the counter.

 A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he reached for a cutting board and knife, setting about slicing the apples with methodical precision. Each thin slice landed in the bowl with a soft thud, and Lucifer’s mind settled into the repetitive motions and sounds.

Lucifer drizzled a generous amount of honey over the top. He watched as it pooled around the edges and seeped into the spaces between the slices.

For these few moments, the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the quiet comfort of apples and honey in the dimly lit kitchen.

With the bowl of apple slices balanced in one hand, Lucifer stepped up onto a small wooden stool and hoisted himself onto the cool marble surface of the kitchen island. He let his legs dangle over the edge. 

His gaze was drawn to the large picture window that dominated the far wall. Outside, the night was alive with movement. 

The wind sent leaves skittering across the ground, twisting them into a chaotic dance. Beyond, in the inky darkness, thick clusters of snowflakes began swirling lazily before pressing against the glass and falling away. 

There had been whispers of a storm earlier in the week, but he'd dismissed them, thinking it was still too early for a proper snowfall.

The thought of being snowed in with his daughter and her girlfriend brought a smile to his lips.  A chance to huddle together by the fire, sharing stories and laughter. But the smile faltered as another realization crept in—Alastor would be stuck here too..

"Hello, Mr. Morningstar." The voice was smooth and rich, like velvet draped over a midnight sky.

 The sound of it sent a jolt through Lucifer, startling him from his thoughts. He nearly dropped the bowl as he twisted around, like thinking his damn name had summoned him. 

There stood Alastor, as real as the snowflakes that continued to fall outside. His presence filled the doorway, clad in pajamas of a lurid red satin that caught the light with every subtle shift. 

Lucifer's heart gave an errant thump, a guilty awareness settling in his chest.

"Hey, Alastor," Lucifer managed, swallowing hard against the sudden dryness in his throat. 

The younger man's unexpected appearance left him grappling against emotions he couldn't name or tame.

Lucifer cleared his throat, the sound rough and awkward in the kitchen's quiet. He could feel the sticky sweetness of apple and honey clinging to his tongue.

"You know, you don’t have to call me that." he forced a semblance of nonchalance into his tone.

"Yes, sir," Alastor replied with a mischievous glint in his eyes, stepping further into the room. 

Lucifer shifted on the counter, trying to focus on anything other than the allure of Alastor's presence. 

"What’s got you up at this hour?" he asked, aiming for casual curiosity, but knowing it probably fell short.

"Couldn't sleep," Alastor said simply, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to be wandering around someone else's kitchen at midnight.

"Ah well," Lucifer nodded, hesitating for a moment before offering, " Can I get you anything?"

Alastor's hazel eyes glinted with amusement, a mischievous smirk playing at the edges of his lips, as if he had just been handed an opportunity too delicious to pass up. 

"To eat," Lucifer clarified hurriedly. "Can I fix you anything to eat?" He steered back to safer ground.

Alastor leaned casually against the opposite counter, his long fingers splayed out across the surface–he should play the piano, Lucifer thought, distractedly. 

The kitchen was spacious enough to keep so distance between them, but even so, Alastor's presence seemed to reach across the tiled floor, making Lucifer's skin tingle.

"Well," Alastor drawled, his tone dripping with suggestion, "I must say, I like what you've been offering so far."

Lucifer fought the urge to roll his eyes. He lifted the small bowl toward the younger man. "I'm having apples and honey," he announced, plucking a thin slice for himself, feeling the crispness break beneath his teeth.

Alastor’s eyes glinted in the low light as he took a slow, deliberate step forward, closing the distance between them. 

“I’m not really one for sweets,” he murmured, his voice low and velvety, “except on special occasions.”

Lucifer watched, spellbound, as Alastor moved closer still, until he was within arm's reach. The younger man’s gaze dropped briefly to Lucifer’s mouth before returning to his eyes, the suggestion unmistakable.

Then, with a gentle but assertive grip, Alastor wrapped his fingers around Lucifer’s wrist.

 The contact sent an unexpected jolt up Lucifer’s arm, his pulse quickening in response. He barely had time to process before Alastor brought Lucifer’s hand to his own lips, slowly taking the apple slice from his fingers with a playful nip.

"Look, kid," Lucifer started, the words escaping him more breathlessly than intended, "You don’t know what tree you’re barking up here. "

Alastor chuckled softly, pushing the bowl in Lucifer’s hand aside as he leaned forward, his hands finding purchase on the counter on either side of the blonde’s knees. The move was deliberate, enclosing Lucifer in a space that felt suddenly intimate. 

“I’ve been of age for years, you know” Alastor assured him, his tone a blend of amusement and something darker. “And I know exactly what I’m doing.”

Lucifer swallowed hard, trying to maintain some semblance of composure even as the heat of Alastor’s proximity made his skin prickle and his thoughts scatter like leaves in the wind.

Alastor's weight was a palpable presence against Lucifer's legs, the counter beneath him suddenly feeling like a precarious perch. 

The young man's hands remained planted on either side of him, as if to emphasize the space he was claiming.

"Alright," Lucifer said, his voice low as he conceded. "You're not a teenager, sure, but you don't know who you're trying to flirt with." His eyes flickered over Alastor's shoulder, seeking a distraction in the darkness beyond the window, even as he felt the heat creeping up his neck. "I mean, I get you're a horny college kid and all, but just think about it."

The snort that escaped Alastor was rich with amusement. It tugged at the corners of Lucifer's mouth despite himself, though he fought to keep his composure.

"But I'm Charlie's dad," he added, the words carrying an undercurrent of warning. 

 Alastor leaned further into him, pressing softly, insistently, until Lucifer’s knees began to yield to the pressure.

"Yes, Charlie's single dad," Alastor replied smoothly, his voice warm and teasing as he continued to focus only on Lucifer. "Who keeps looking at me like I'm going to eat him."

Lucifer could feel the flush spreading from his cheeks to his ears, betraying him—he and Charlie had that in common–no damn poker face.

He turned his head slightly, breaking eye contact under the pretense of watching the snowflakes gathering outside—anything to avoid the intensity of Alastor's gaze that saw right through him.

Alastor's presence loomed closer, the air between them charged with an electric tension that hummed through Lucifer's veins. Alastor’s hands remained planted on the counter, framing Lucifer in a way that made escape feel both possible and pointless.

"Which," Alastor murmured, his voice a low, sultry purr that seemed to wrap around Lucifer’s senses, "I am happy to oblige…if you ask nicely."

The boldness of the words struck Lucifer like a physical force.His breath hitched, too loud in the stillness of the kitchen.

In that moment of hesitation, the resistance in Lucifer's legs faltered, and he found himself yielding to Alastor’s body moving between his thighs. The heat of the younger’s proximity seeped through the fabric of Lucifer's pajama bottoms, igniting his skin beneath the oversized sweater.

A soft chuckle escaped from Alastor, rich with triumph, as though he could sense the internal war waging within Lucifer—a battle already half-lost before it began.

Lucifer's hand trembled slightly as he pushed the bowl of apples into Alastor's chest, a feeble attempt to create a little distance between them.  A honeyed apple slice found its way into his mouth, the sweetness a distraction from the heat pooling low in his stomach.

"I’m too old for this shit," he muttered, the words barely coherent as they slipped past his lips.

The reprieve was short-lived. 

Alastor moved with feline grace, reaching past the bowl. Fingers brushed against Lucifer’s skin lightly, then cupped his chin and coax his face back toward the younger man.

"You aren't too old to be sweet for me, are you?" Alastor purred, his voice smooth like molten caramel.

Lucifer's mind blanked, the apple halted mid-chew as he blinked at Alastor.

The world beyond the kitchen faded into irrelevance, leaving Lucifer ensnared by the bewitching pull of Alastor’s gaze and the promise that lingered there.

Lucifer’s breath caught as Alastor hummed, a low sound of approval that vibrated through the air between them. The younger man leaned in, his eyes locked onto the slice of apple still perched on Lucifer's lips.

Alastor's mouth brushed against Lucifer's with a shock of warmth, the contact fleeting yet electrifying. In one swift motion, he bit through the apple slice. Their lips touched—just barely,  tantalizing—and then it was over, leaving Lucifer craving more.

Honey dripped from the corner of Lucifer's mouth, a golden trail tracing down his skin.

Alastor’s eyes followed its descent, watching intently as it slipped beneath the stretched neckline of Lucifer’s sweater.

Alastor tilted Lucifer’s head back. Then, deliberately and with a measured grace, he lowered his head, following the sticky trail with the tip of his tongue.

 The heat of Alastor’s mouth contrasted with the cool night air, igniting sparks that danced along his nerves.

Lucifer's breath hitched, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to regain composure. The unexpected intimacy of Alastor’s tongue tracing the honey along his neck left him reeling.

"You…you said you didn’t like sweets."

Alastor's lips curved into a smirk against Lucifer’s skin, the vibration of his words sending shivers down Lucifer's spine

. “I do prefer giving bites over kisses,” Alastor murmured, his voice a silky caress. “But I’m willing to make an exception... if you ask nicely.”

The air was thick with a heavy tension that pressed in on all sides. Lucifer’s mind raced, battling against the flood of desire threatening to pull him under. They shouldn’t be doing this—he knew it. 

Alastor was so close now, his presence overwhelming and intoxicating. Lucifer could feel the warmth radiating from him, could see the promise in those hazel eyes.

Alastor was a force of nature that Lucifer found himself unable—or unwilling—to resist.

At that moment, Lucifer yearned to just give in. Let this man consume him, completely. 

"Please..." The word slipped from his lips. A surrender, and there would be no going back.

Alastor pulled him in at once, until their lips collided. It was the kind of kiss that wanted to unravel him, dissolving the walls of solitude and heartache.

The brunette was unrelenting, leaving Lucifer breathless.

Their mouths danced together, tasting sweet and tart.. Alastor took his time, teasingly plucking the forgotten slice of apple from Lucifer’s lips.

Lucifer surrendered, letting himself be swept away by the sensation of being thoroughly, deliciously dominated. Given over entirely to Alastor’s whims.

As the kiss broke,  Lucifer instinctively reached out, fingers wanting to curl into the silken fabric of Alastor's red satin pajama top. But Alastor leaned back slightly and tutted softly, amusement lacing his voice.

"Ah-ah," Alastor chided gently, a playful smirk curving his lips. "You will not get my clothes sticky."

Chastened, Lucifer withdrew his hands. Honey still clung to his fingertips.Instead he curled them on his thighs, falling into the familiar role of a practiced submissive—one he hadn’t embraced in a damn long time.

"Good boy," Alastor murmured, his voice low and smooth.

Leaving the blonde fluttering with the praise.

Alastor's fingers danced lightly along Lucifer's jaw, a touch both gentle and possessive. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against Lucifer's ear as he asked softly, "Can I bite you?"

"Yes," He swallowed hard, the remnants of honey sweet on his lips as he nodded, daring to trust Alastor. "Just... nowhere, it'll show."

"Of course," Alastor agreed smoothly, his tone carrying a promise that was both reassuring and thrilling. His hands were confident as they settled on either side of Lucifer's neck, guiding him with an insistent but tender pressure.

Lucifer allowed himself to be maneuvered, tilting his head obediently as Alastor exposed the bare curve of his shoulder where the oversized sweater had slipped away. 

"Say ‘red’ if you want me to stop," Alastor instructed, his voice steady and calm, eyes meeting Lucifer’s.

"Yellow means slow down." Lucifer replied, heart pounding with a mix of nerves and excitement. The familiarity of those words brought a sense of comfort, grounding him.

"Good," Alastor chuckled. “I thought I would have to teach you the rules.”

Lucifer could feel Alastor's approval like a physical caress, knowing that in this moment, he was safe, understood, and about to be marked in a way he craved.

Alastor's lips moved with deliberate slowness, tracing a path down Lucifer's neck, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. Each kiss seemed to linger longer than the last, as if savoring the taste of skin beneath them. Lucifer's pulse quickened, his breath catching as anticipation coiled tightly within him.

When Alastor reached the crook of his shoulder, he paused, lips hovering above the exposed flesh. Then, he latched onto the skin, drawing it into his mouth. 

A gasp escaped Lucifer's lips as Alastor increased the pressure gradually, teeth grazing his shoulder until they slowly sank in.

Alastor knew precisely how to apply force without crossing into discomfort, maintaining a delicate balance that made Lucifer's head spin.

But then, the pressure intensified, skirting the edge of pain. It was sharp, demanding acknowledgement. But Lucifer let himself be pushed further, wanting more, until he thought his skin might break. 

 "Yellow," Lucifer gasped, voice straining.

Instantly, Alastor eased off the bite.

The relief was immediate, and the lingering sting felt tingling and pleasant as Alastor's tongue swept over the imprint of his teeth. He lavished attention on the tender area.

Lucifer moaned softly, the sound involuntary as Alastor's lips continued their ministrations, easing pain back into pleasure. That simple act of care left him feeling cherished as the mark colored his pale skin.

Lucifer's breath came in ragged bursts as he pulled back slightly, his eyes searching Alastor's with an intensity that mirrored the chaos in his chest.

His lips sought Alastor's again, a desperate connection fueled by the heat still simmering beneath his skin. The kiss was fervent, almost bruising in its urgency, and when they broke apart, Lucifer's whispered words filled the space between them.

"Fuck, I thought you were going to draw blood."

Alastor's laughter was a low, rumbling sound . "I don’t bite to cause harm," he assured, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Just to mark what’s mine."

The declaration wrapped around Lucifer like a silken thread; the sensation left him feeling exposed, and alive.

"Can I touch you?" Alastor's question was a soft murmur against his ear, each syllable enunciating a promise that made Lucifer's pulse quicken.

"Yes," the blonde breathed out, the single word filled with anticipation

"Good," Alastor hummed, a note of satisfaction lacing his tone. He paused those fingers curled on Lucifer’s inner thigh, a deliberate moment that held its own kind of tension. "If I touch you, I'm going to want to get my mouth on you. Not to bite, but to taste you. Is that alright?"

"Please," Lucifer repeated, the plea escaping him without hesitation.

Fingers fumbled with the waistband of his duckie pajamas. Why couldn’t he have worn something that was at least a little sexy? As if he could have known  he was going to be hooking up in his kitchen.

His hands felt clumsy and uncertain now.

Alastor watched him with a smirk that was both knowing and indulgent, the heat in his gaze searing through the dim light of the kitchen.

The blonde finally managing to shove the fabric down his thighs. He shifted awkwardly, trying not to focus on how exposed he felt, or how much he craved the younger man's attention. Alastor's eyes never left his, holding him captive with their unspoken promises.

"Relax," Alastor murmured, dipping his finger into the jar of honey nearby. The movement was fluid, almost hypnotic, as he coated the digit in the golden syrup.

 Then, with deliberate slowness, he dragged it along the length of Lucifer's aching cock.

Lucifer bit back a moan, his body tensing with anticipation, every nerve alight.

"How sweet," Alastor purred. He leaned in, his breath warm against Lucifer's skin, before his tongue flicked out to lap at the honey-coated length. The gentleness of Alastor's sharp teeth sent a shudder through Lucifer, the edge of danger driving him wild. .

"Fuck," Lucifer breathed. 

He squirmed under Alastor's ministrations, feeling like a damn teenager getting his first blowjob. 

 The urge to touch, to cling to Alastor and ground himself, was overwhelming. His hands clenched into fists on his thighs. .

"Easy," Alastor soothed, wrapping his hand around Lucifer's cock with a leisurely stroke that was both personal and possessive. "You do not have permission to come down my throat."

The words were a command wrapped in velvet, a reminder of the control Alastor had over him.

Lucifer nodded, swallowing hard.

Alastor's mouth enveloped him once more. He couldn't help the whine that escaped his lips, a sound of pure want that echoed in the quiet kitchen.

"Take off your sweater," Alastor commanded, pulling back slightly, his voice rough with desire. 

Lucifer hesitated, his fingers twitching towards the hem of his oversized top. The fabric hung comfortably but beneath it….he knew  had the body of a divorced dad. Even if he’d only seen Alastor covered from neck to wrist to ankle, he knew the younger man was slender and fit.

Lucifer was not. He was almost middle aged and his muscle was hidden under softness, from stress and snacking and stressing over snacking.

He’d hesitated long enough for Alastor to notice.

Those keen hazel eyes softened, understanding without judgment. "Then you'll just have to wash clothes," Alastor murmured, his tone gentle yet unyielding. His hand continued its purposeful rhythm, stroking Lucifer with a practiced grace that left no room for doubt or insecurity.

Lucifer nodded, swallowing his apprehension, surrendering to the moment. Alastor's words were a balm, soothing his frazzled nerves as he gave in to the younger man's control.

With each deliberate stroke, tension coiled tighter in Lucifer's core until it snapped, spilling come over the younger’s fist. His sweater bore the brunt of it, as Alastor watched with a satisfied smile playing on his lips.

"Good boy," Alastor praised, the words a whisper that sent warmth flooding through Lucifer.

Lucifer was left a panting mess, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he leaned back against the cool surface of the kitchen counter.

The world around him seemed to blur. It had been so long since anyone else had gotten him off, and even though it was just a hand job, it left him reeling.

He could feel the warm stickiness of his come trailing down from his chin, marking his sweater as evidence of their encounter.

Alastor tipped his head back, and  Lucifer's eyes fluttered open, meeting the younger man's hazel gaze that sparkled.

"Let me," Alastor murmured, voice rich and inviting. His tongue traced a languid path up his throat, collecting Lucifer’s come.

It shocked him that Alastor would even want to taste him. He barely registered the taste of himself on Alastor's lips before the younger man kissed him, lingering and turning tender, like Alastor knew, to ease him down.

 And Lucifer’s wits were coming back to him. Already thinking of how he would return the favor. 

Kitchen tile probably wasn’t going to be the best thing for his knees. And Lucifer hadn’t blown anyone in years, but it shouldn’t be too hard—not to get off a worked up college kid.

Just as resolve solidified in his mind, Alastor pulled away suddenly, leaving Lucifer blinking in surprise. A knowing smile playing on the younger’s lips.

 "Thanks for the snack," he said, voice smooth as velvet, a teasing lilt in his words. He turned to leave, languid and unhurried, dripping with an irritating amount of confidence.

Lucifer blinked, his bare ass still on his kitchen counter, the chill grounding him to the granite.

"Wait," the blonde blurted, his voice husky and uncertain. He shifted slightly, the oversized sweater slipping further down one shoulder. "Don't you…want me to do something for you?"

Alastor paused, tilting his head just enough to glance back over his shoulder, with a soft chuckle in the quiet kitchen. .

"I'm quite satisfied actually," Alastor hummed, casually waving off the suggestion. "Goodnight, Mr. Morningstar."

And with that, Alastor sauntered out of the kitchen, leaving Lucifer alone and a sticky mess.

The oversized sweater clung to him in places, sticky with traces of honey and the aftermath of He shifted slightly, wincing as the coolness of the counter reminded him of his current state of undress. His mind replayed the scene over and over, each repetition only deepening the gnawing inside him.

He’d eaten, and more, and yet...he was starving. 

For a moment, Lucifer considered following Alastor, demanding an explanation or an encore. But the thought vanished as quickly as it came, leaving him with nothing but an empty ache and the soft patter of snow against the windowpane.

With a sigh, he reached for the discarded bowl of apples and honey, knowing they wouldn’t be nearly enough. 

🍁Follow on Ao3🍁Read my original fics on Ream🍁

[isuckatwritingsobenice]

hey there! currently unsure if you have requests open or not, but if so; may i request headcannons of Alastor with a reader who is like Pearl? (from Pearl, the movie♡) thank you!

A/N: I love pearl and i really enjoyed this request, so thank you so much for this!!!!

Navigation!! // Masterlist!!

Behind the curtain

The evening had a certain heaviness to it, the kind that lingered in the air long after the sun had set. You and Alastor were seated in the cozy living room of your shared space, the old radio playing a soft tune in the background. The room was filled with a warm, golden light from the vintage lamps scattered about, casting shadows that danced along the walls. It was the kind of setting that should have felt comforting, but tonight, it felt suffocating.

Your mind was racing, thoughts of grandeur and fame swirling like a storm, impossible to ignore. You had just returned from another failed audition, your dreams of becoming a star slipping further out of reach. The rejection stung more than usual, gnawing at your insides like a persistent itch you couldn’t scratch. You wanted so desperately to be seen, to be admired, to be adored. But it felt like the world was conspiring against you, keeping you in the shadows where you didn’t belong.

Alastor watched you closely from his armchair, his crimson eyes glinting with something between amusement and concern. He could sense the turmoil within you—how the frustration simmered beneath the surface, threatening to boil over at any moment.

“You’re quiet tonight,” Alastor remarked, his voice smooth and tinged with curiosity. He leaned forward slightly, the ever-present grin on his face softening just enough to show he was paying attention. “That’s not like you, my dear. What’s on your mind?”

You bit your lip, hesitating before you spoke. “I… I just can’t seem to catch a break, Alastor. No matter how hard I try, it’s like no one sees me. It’s always someone else getting the part, someone else getting the applause. I’m starting to wonder if I’m ever going to make it.”

Alastor tilted his head, his grin widening as he studied you. “Ah, the trials of ambition,” he mused, almost wistfully. “The desire for fame is a powerful thing, isn’t it? It consumes you, drives you… and when it’s left unfulfilled, it can be quite maddening.”

You sighed, feeling a lump form in your throat. “It’s more than just wanting to be famous, though. I need it, Alastor. I need to feel like I’m special, like I’m meant for something greater. But I’m starting to doubt if that’s ever going to happen.”

Alastor’s eyes gleamed with a mix of sympathy and something darker, something more calculating. He rose from his chair and crossed the room to you, his footsteps nearly silent on the plush carpet. Standing before you, he gently lifted your chin with his fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“Do you know what separates those who succeed from those who fade into obscurity?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle. “It’s the willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve your dreams. The world is full of mediocre souls content to play by the rules, but you, my dear… you’re different. I’ve seen it in you—the hunger, the fire. You’re destined for greatness, but only if you’re willing to embrace what others are too afraid to.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine at his words. There was something both thrilling and terrifying in the way he spoke, as if he was offering you a glimpse into a world where the usual constraints of morality didn’t apply—a world where you could finally become the star you were meant to be.

“But… what if it means doing things I’m not proud of?” you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of the question. “What if it means hurting people?”

Alastor’s smile grew wider, and there was a glint of wicked amusement in his eyes. “Ah, but greatness often requires sacrifice, my dear. After all, what’s a little bloodshed in the grand scheme of things? The world is full of people who would tear you down given the chance—why not beat them to the punch?”

You felt your pulse quicken at his words, a strange mix of fear and excitement bubbling up inside you. The idea of taking control, of shaping your own destiny no matter the cost, was intoxicating. But the thought of what you might have to do to achieve it made your stomach churn. Could you really go that far? Could you cross those lines, knowing there was no turning back? You looked into Alastor’s eyes, searching for reassurance, but all you found was that ever-present smile, a smile that seemed to say, You’re capable of more than you know.

You hesitated, the words caught in your throat. “I don’t know if I can… if I can live with myself if I do something unforgivable.”

Alastor chuckled softly, his voice a low purr as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “Oh, my dear, we all have our demons. It’s about learning to dance with them, to harness that darkness within and let it guide you to where you truly belong. You’ve got it in you, I can see it. The world just needs to catch up.”

His words were like honey, sweet and tempting, wrapping around your mind and pulling you deeper into the idea. You could almost see it—the lights, the applause, the adoration you craved so desperately. But it came with a price, and that price weighed heavily on your soul.

“I’m scared, Alastor,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “What if I lose myself in the process? What if I become something I don’t recognize?”

Alastor’s smile softened, but only slightly. He brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch lingering on your cheek. “Fear is natural, my dear, but don’t let it hold you back. You won’t lose yourself—you’ll simply become the version of you that the world has been waiting for. A star isn’t made by playing it safe. It’s forged in fire, burning brighter than anything else in the sky.”

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. The allure of his words was undeniable, but there was still that lingering doubt, that voice in the back of your mind reminding you of the cost. But then, what had playing it safe ever gotten you? More rejection, more obscurity, more of being just another face in the crowd.

“Do you really think I can do it?” you asked, your voice tinged with desperation. “Do you think I can be great?”

Alastor’s grin grew wider, more predatory. “I have no doubt, my dear. You have everything it takes. You just need to embrace it. Let go of those silly little fears, and the world will be yours.”

You closed your eyes, trying to drown out the last of your reservations. Alastor’s words echoed in your mind, weaving a spell around your thoughts, dulling the edges of your conscience. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, ready to take the plunge into whatever it would take to finally be seen.

When you opened your eyes again, the fear was still there, but it was overshadowed by something stronger—resolve. You looked at Alastor, his ever-present grin now a comfort rather than a warning. “Okay,” you said, your voice steady, though your hands trembled slightly. “I’ll do it. Whatever it takes… I’ll do it.”

Alastor’s smile turned triumphant, and he pulled you close, his voice a low, pleased hum. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his words filled with dark pride. “Now, let’s show the world what you’re made of.”

The weeks that followed were a whirlwind of rehearsals, auditions, and late-night conversations with Alastor that were equal parts encouragement and manipulation. He was always there, always whispering in your ear, reminding you that this was your moment, that you deserved to be the star. He watched with delight as you grew bolder, more willing to push the boundaries, to do whatever it took to make your mark.

But with each step closer to the spotlight, the line between who you were and who you were becoming blurred. Alastor’s influence was like a shadow that loomed over you, guiding your actions and thoughts. There were moments when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and didn’t recognize the person staring back—a person with sharper edges, a person who wasn’t afraid to hurt others if it meant getting ahead.

One night, after another exhausting day of chasing your dreams, you collapsed onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The weight of everything was crushing down on you, suffocating the last remnants of doubt and fear. But instead of relief, all you felt was emptiness.

Alastor appeared beside you, as if summoned by your thoughts, his presence a comfort and a reminder of what you’d become. “You’re almost there, my dear,” he said softly, his voice like silk. “Soon, the world will know your name. All that’s left is one final push.”

You turned your head to look at him, your eyes hollow, searching for the warmth and reassurance he had once provided. “What if… what if I’m not happy when I get there?” you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Alastor’s smile faltered for the briefest of moments, but then it returned, even wider than before. “Happiness is fleeting, my dear. But power, fame, recognition—those are eternal. You’ll be remembered long after the joy has faded, and isn’t that worth more?”

You wanted to believe him, wanted to trust that all the sacrifices, all the darkness you had embraced, would be worth it in the end. But deep down, a small part of you knew that the price had been too high. You had lost something along the way—something you could never get back.

But it was too late to turn back now. You were too far gone, too close to the finish line to let regret hold you back. So you nodded, forcing a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “You’re right,” you said, your voice steady despite the turmoil inside. “I’ve come too far to stop now.”

Alastor’s grin grew wider, his satisfaction almost palpable as he leaned in close, his voice a dark whisper. “Then let’s make sure they never forget you, my shining star.”

And with that, you rose to your feet, leaving behind the last vestiges of who you once were. The stage was waiting, the spotlight was yours, and the world would finally see you for what you had become—a star, forged in fire, burning brighter than anything else in the sky.

[goddess-in-heaven-and-hell]

Invisible Strings Pt. I - Gwynriel One-Shot

Surprise attack lol. I'm alive.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: language related to war and violence, angst

Gwyn and Azriel have to part ways before the Shadowsinger flies off to war.

Gwyn always liked the moments just before a storm. When the heavens brew up a potion of lightning and thunder, winds picking up speed and oceans growing wild with restless energy. It was like the world came to a momentary halt, nature stopping its breath for a second. Then, chaos erupts. During times like this, the priestess usually finds herself nestled into a cozy armchair by a big window, watching with rapt attention from the security of her home.

But what happens if your home suddenly became the center of the storm, tension building painstakingly slow? What if your very foundations started to shake and crack, and you didn’t know which way to run for safety?

Only two days ago did the autumn court and Koschei’s army declare open war against the allegiance of Prythian. Even though the territory of the Night Court wasn’t a battleground, their troops were currently flying and marching south – to meet either victory or their end. Cassian and Nesta have been gone for two weeks now, scouting and preparing for battle. 

To say Gwyn was a nervous wreck was an understatement. The mere thought of Nesta and Cassian sent her spiraling. The heaviness of war loomed in every dark corner of the library, in the shadows of her room. With a surge of anxiety came the shame – because was she really standing there, in the warm and safe halls of the House of Wind, panicking and feeling sorry for herself, when her friends faced the real threat?

When Azriel was about to head into the center of fighting?

She would just about manage to go about her routine if it weren’t for that that little, persistent, cruel thought. It snuck up on her all throughout the day, only to leave her shaking between the rows of books. Azriel would join their friends tomorrow morning. And she might never see him again.

Bracelet in one hand, a light in the other, Gwyn ascended the stairs leading to the house proper. She didn’t even know where he chose to spend his last moments in peace, but her legs carried her all the way to his room nonetheless. The light pouring through the slit of his door told her enough, yet she still didn’t quite know how to go about this. What could she possibly say to make this situation better? Did he even want a ‘goodbye’, or was he better off pretending that this moment wasn’t as severe as it felt? Her shaking fingers placed the bracelet in her pocket, then formed a fist to knock on the door.

Upon entering, Gwyn couldn’t help but notice how perfectly normal everything looked. His bed was as pristine as ever, a fire burning merrily in the hearth, Azriel slouching over papers in front of it. But his bags were packed, weapons stashed neatly by the door. Gwyn’s eyes stung with tears that she quickly blinked away.

“Hey you.”, she offered a greeting, her voice only wobbling slightly. Azriel looked up from his reports, face neutral, if not slightly amused.

“Gwyn.”, he replied, nodding his head towards the couch for her to sit. She obliged, if only to give her knees a rest, while Azriel stood to stack away the documents. Up to this point, it was routine. For the past year or so, they found themselves drawn to each other, with Gwyn visiting him in the library or his room for evening chats, or Azriel coming down to her workplace for a quick lunch.

“Would you like something to drink, eat?”, he asked casually as he resumed his seat in the armchair before the fire. Gwyn declined, fidgeting slightly in the loaded silence that ensued. But he wasn’t offering her a conversation starter, and she didn’t know how to voice her own thoughts.

Gwyn knew for a fact he knew why she was here, that she physically couldn’t bear the thoughts of battle in the loneliness of her own room and had to see for herself one last time. To see his face: brows furrowed in concentration as he read, the little tilt to his head when he listened to one of her pointless stories, the rare, but ever so beautiful grins when she managed to surprise him with some unexpected quirk of hers.

But laughter was the last thing on her mind now. And the more she looked at him, the blurrier her vision got.

Azriel let out a startled, slightly pained laugh as the first tear escaped down her cheek. Gwyn tried to blink the rest away furiously, but all that ended up doing was produce more waterworks. She barely noticed Az kneeling in front of her and gently reaching for her hands. Only as the warmth of him seeped into her cold fingers, and she beheld his amused expression, did she choke out a laugh as well.

“You know, I came here tonight to cheer you up.”, her voice came out all weird. It held all the pent-up emotion from the past weeks, mixed in with the absurd comic of the situation. Gwyn couldn’t help thinking that she behaved exactly like one of the book characters of long passed times, the hysterical damsel in distress. If she fainted now, she’d sink straight through the wooden floor all the way into the mountain itself.

The way she was feeling, she wouldn’t have put it past herself.

“Worked like a charm.”, the Shadowsinger reply wryly while caressing the backs of her hands with his thumbs in a soothing manner. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call you ‘cheery’, but you definitely offered distraction.”

Gwyn’s lips stretched into one of those smiles that only needed one more depressing thought to slip into full-on wailing.

“I can’t bear it.”, she whispered, shaking her head.

“It’s just war, Gwyn. It happens every few decades, and so far, I’ve managed to survive quite a lot of it.”, Azriel, bless his soul, was trying to reason with her. “Besides, believe me when I say I have entered spying missions that posed more of a danger to me than open battle. I can look after myself. And if I fail, there are hundreds of other warriors out there who have my back.”

He has talked enough for the tears to subside slightly. Gwyn listened with furrowed brows, trying very hard to focus her vision enough so that she might soak up the look on his face. She contemplated his reassurances for a bit.

“Sounds like a lot of bullshit to me, Shadowsinger.”

Azriel only grinned back at her, shrugging his shoulders. The nerve of this male!

“You’ll be the death of me.”, she said, feeling a little more like herself. Enough so that her cheeks started to stain slightly. Did she really just come to his room only to break out into tears? When she was the one waking up in her safe, comfortable room tomorrow morning without the prospect of dying?

“Gods, Az, I’m so sorry.”, she quickly whiped away her tears, only briefly mourning the loss of his touch. There were more important things to focus on tonight that her stupid crush. “I shouldn’t have barged in like that. I didn’t even know if you wanted company tonight or just some silence. I can only imagine how stimulating and stressful a war camp might be and now I’ve robbed you of your last moments of peace.”

She winced apologetically, her hands clinging to each other in her lap. “If you’d like, I can go and we forget this ever happened.”

But Azriel held onto her as she made to stand up, effectively making her bounce back onto the sofa. “Don’t go, please.”

The look they shared as he said that could have measured a second or a minute. Either way, Gwyn was unable to tear herself away from his gaze, the sudden intensity in it. But she managed to nod, leaning back on the sofa and assuming what she hoped was a natural and relaxed position.

For the next hour or so, Gwyn tired her very best to ignore the looming threat hung above the room like stormy, dark cloud. She tried to be as engaging and bubbly as usual, because that was what he deserved. Distraction, and a bit of amusement, to get him through the night.

They only noticed the time passing when the House dumped another log of wood into their nearly dying fire. Two sets of eyes flicked to the hearth, then to the clock in the corner, two pairs of legs sprung into motion.

“I am so sorry Az. You should have been in bed-“

“for about two hours.”, Az concluded slowly, as if coming out of a trance. “I’ll walk you to the stairs, yes?”

They went in silence, any pretense of normality broken. Gwyn counted the steps they took from his room to the stairs, each one thundering more loudly in her head than it should. She couldn’t shake the feeling of profound panic, of her life being over as soon as she stepped foot into the library.

So she stopped dead in her tracks, forcing Azriel to turn around.

“I’ll come with you.”, she blurted out, her body so full of adrenaline she didn’t even feel fear mixing into her personal cocktail of emotions as well. “Why didn’t we think of that! I just come with you, and I’ll help you with your work and help with the wounded and then it will be over more quickly.” She nodded to herself as she rambled, barely registering what she said. “I can share a tent with Nesta, I can clean, I can even fight if worse comes to worse!”

“Gwyn, you can’t honestly mean that.”, Azriel’s low voice was like a balm that settled over her anxious heart. With him, she could do it. Could face war.

“Yes, I do mean that.”, Gwyn replied, “I’ll be of no use in the library anyways, way too distracted and fidgety to do any proper work. We can ask Clotho for permission right away.”

Gwyn moved past him, her body working on autopilot, to inform Clotho of her apparent death wish. But a warm, solid hand grabbed her forearm and gently pulled her back. Towards an even warmer, sturdier body. Before she could react, her whole being was enveloped in the scent and feel of Azriel. Gwyn’s panicked mind decided she liked it there. It felt like home.

“No.”, Azriel simply said, wrapping both his arms around her and holding her close.

Gwyn made to protest, but Azriel’s voice continued to rumble through his chest. “I’m not saying you aren’t a good fighter, and I am not saying that because you’re a female you should stay here. But hear me out please?”

Gwyn nodded against his chest, her own arms now finding purchase on his back.

“War is different than anything you have ever seen before. It’s not like the Blood Rite, where you are spread out across fields and woods and sporadically fight, or simply avoid it. War means close fighting, shoulder to shoulder, having to step over your own dying allies to push back the enemy. War is loud, and chaotic, and absolute hell on earth.”

The priestess was crying into his shirt now, trying to listen to the truth in his words, trying to acknowledge the fact that her knees wanted to give out at the mere thought of such a scenario. But that other, unreasonable part of her did not want to let him go there on his own.

“Gwyn, war means you’ll have to stay in a camp full of warriors. All of them sizable, all of them getting increasingly angry and lonely as time passes. And as much as I’d wish for it, I wouldn’t be there all of the time to keep an eye on you. Nesta and Cassian won’t either. Do you hear me, love?”

He pulled back, coming face to face with her. Gwyn whispered a defeated ‘yes’. She hadn’t even found the courage to visit Velaris yet, still jumped when hearing male voices that weren’t familiar to her. What on earth made her think she could face this?

“I’m sorry to leave you behind.” Azriel shook his head, his hand coming up to reach for her face, only to be dropped again after a second. “But in all honesty, I’m not sure if I could do my best while knowing you’d be there.”

Gwyn nodded, stepping away from him just a bit. Her mind had gone all fuzzy with the smell of him. “I understand. Maybe… maybe next time?”

She didn’t understand immediately why he laughed at her words. All her body knew was sadness.

“What?”

Azriel’s voice still held some laughter as he answered, “Only you would wish for another war to happen just to prove me wrong.”

Gwyn realized what she said a second later. Gods, she must have forgotten her brain in the dormitory before coming up to meet him. What was happening to her?

“So, this is goodbye?”, she concluded, finally feeling the cold of the stairway creeping up her legs and arms now that the Shadowsinger didn’t scare it away.

“Yes. But only a temporary one. I’m not easy to kill.” Now, his hand did come up to cup the side of her face, his thumb wiping away the tear stains. She caught his wrist with her own hand, stepping close to him again and – encouraged by whatever condition her mind was currently in – pressed a quick, soft kiss to his cheek.

“Promise me to write. And promise me to stay alive.”, she said, her voice again wobbly with emotion.

Azriel had a pained look on him. Like a man deeply regretting something and wishing with all his heart to turn back time. But he managed to repeat the promise to her. And he managed to keep his distance, despite the slight lean of his body towards her.

“Oh!”, the priestess exclaimed with a start. If she had forgotten, she’d have kicked herself repeatedly for the foreseeable future! Reaching in her pocket, she rummaged out the bracelet she made for him. It seemed pathetic now, really, the delicate strings of yarn next to the Shadowsinger.

But his eyes softened as he beheld the present. “I wanted to give that to you. You don’t have to wear it, of course!”, she quickly added, now thinking he might not want to parade this token of affection around in a war camp. “But I like to think it’ll protect you.”

Azriel swallowed. Then he simply held out his right arm. Her fingers, thankfully, did not shake as she managed to tie it around his wrist. Blue for his siphons, black for his Shadows, and white for peace and protection. The charm she knotted into the bracelet held her wish for him, that he might return to her in one piece.

“I’ll honor it. And my promises to you.”, he said. And before Gwyn could fathom what happened, her Shadowsinger wrapped himself around her once more, squeezing with more force than necessary. “I’ll come back to you, love. And I’ll make things right.”

Gwyn didn’t really know what he meant, but her heart danced around her chest regardless. Also, did he just call her ‘love’? It sounded so natural, so normal that she almost didn’t catch it.

After a while, he pulled away again.

“See you around, Berdara.”

She didn’t find the right words to reply immediately. When she finally did, he was long gone, blended in with the Shadows surrounding them.

And with this second, piercing her chest like a strike of lighting, her own personal hell had begun.

[letsquestjess]

So I heard you were doing fic requests (I stumbled on a post lol)

I'm not a big x Reader fan (sry 😭) but is it okay if I just request the bad batch relaxing on a forest planet in a cozy cabin? I just think that huddling up next to a fireplace, hot soup and hot cocoa would be the ultimate way to relax 😅

(Also writing this request reminded me of a drawing of Cross chilling in a cabin that I made a while back, is it okay if I tag you when I post it?)

Thank you and have a nice day! :D

Hello! Thank you so much for the request! Of course you can tag me in the Crosshair cabin post, it sounds so sweet! 😊💜

By the Warmth of the Fire

Summary: The Batch go on a relaxing retreat to a cabin in the woods.

Word count: 904

Warnings: None.

-- -- -- -- --

“That shower definitely beats the one on the ship,” Hunter said, padding out of his bedroom and tying up his almost dry hair into a quick bun before readjusting his bandana. Despite his efforts to tame the flowing curls, a couple of stubborn strands still flopped over the red fabric. 

The worn fireplace crackled, casting a soft, welcoming glow over the open living space. The metal poker on the stand had been scorched until the original metallic shine dulled beneath the constant heat, and Hunter was careful when he balanced the deceptive weight of it and nudged the larger surviving logs. 

“Where are the others?” Echo asked as he set the steaming bowls of soup onto the coffee table. Crosshair trailed closely behind with a tray of hot chocolate, placing each on the stone slab by the fire to keep them warm. 

“They shouldn’t be too long,” Hunter replied. Settling into the nearest armchair, he sank into the plush cushions and accepted the bowl Echo handed to him. He took a sniff of the curling steam and recognised the scent. “This one of Gregor’s?” 

“Yeah. When I told him we were coming out here, he gave me the recipe and it seemed easy enough to put together.”

The door groaned in protest as Omega, Tech, and Wrecker pushed their way inside, shutting out the biting wind and tracking snow behind them. 

“We’ve been waiting for you three,” Echo chuckled, assisting his sister in removing her coat and hanging it on the hooks. He guided her to a comfortable spot in front of the crackling fire and placed a bowl of soup in her hands. “Careful, it’s still hot.” 

With a nod, the girl brought a spoonful to her lips and blew on it before taking a sip. “It’s good,” she said as Crosshair draped a blanket over her shoulders. 

“The smell’s making me hungry,” Wrecker groaned. His stomach growled as he dumped the armful of chopped logs onto the dwindling pile and grabbed his dinner. He ignored the spoon and sipped straight from the bowl, letting out a small, satisfied belch. “Tastes great,” he declared, digging back in. “We got anymore?” 

“There’s about half a pan left,” Echo said. “I also cut up one of the fresh loaves if anyone wants some bread.” Sitting himself down on the sofa beside Tech, he took the last serving and savoured the warm, heartening aroma. His brothers tucked into their meals, and the sound of spoons on ceramic and slurps mingled with the crackle of the fire as it put up a valiant effort against the gusts invading the chimney. 

“How did your exploration go?” Hunter asked, glancing between Omega and Tech. 

“We didn’t go far, like we promised,” Omega replied, “but we saw a flock of ice birds.”

“Arcasia birds,” Tech corrected gently. “I believe they were preparing to migrate underground, otherwise we would not have seen them.” 

“Sounds fun,” Hunter said. “Did you get a look at the trail?”

“The snow is clearing, so if we wanted to go on a hike up to the springs, tomorrow would be the optimal day for it,” Tech replied. 

The tracker relished the warmth of the soup as he drained the last spoonful and set the empty bowl onto the low table. “We can head out in the morning,” he suggested. “So long as we don’t have any heavy snowfall overnight.”

As a howl ravaged down the chimney, Wrecker swiftly shoved the mantlepiece guards up to prevent the ashes from scattering. “Looks to be getting colder,” he commented, ensuring none of the smouldering flecks had managed to reach Omega. “Might be best to grab those extra blankets from the attic.” 

“Oh,” Omega said with a spark of excitement, “I have an idea. If it’s going to be cold, we could bring the bedrolls in here and sleep by the fire.”

“I brought Sabacc cards so we could always play a few rounds before bed,” Crosshair added, and Omega threw him a competitive grin. 

Hunter nodded in approval to the plan. “Okay, but if there are any arguments like last time, we’re leaving those cards here.” 

“It wasn’t that bad,” Crosshair reasoned. 

“Finish your soup,” Hunter told him in a commanding yet light tone. 

Omega wasted no time in grabbing her share of hot chocolate after she had cleaned her bowl. She took a small sip, relishing the sweetness, and offered the other mugs to her brothers as they mopped up the rest of their dinner with the fresh bread. Crosshair directed her to the Sabacc cards, and mug in hand, she disappeared into the back bedroom and reappeared moments later with them.

Hunter nestled into his seat and glanced around at his siblings. On the sofa, Echo indulged Tech’s ramblings, asking him about the various bird species he had encountered during his trek as he flipped through the pictures on his datapad, while Crosshair, Wrecker, and Omega got to work setting up the game. The brawler’s raucous guffaws warmed the room as he clapped Crosshair on the shoulder in amusement, and the sniper returned a tickled laugh. 

“Hunter?” 

Hunter’s attention lifted to Omega as she presented him with a set of cards. 

“Are you feeling alright?” she asked. 

“Couldn’t be better,” he replied, a smile spreading across his face as he graciously took the playing cards. “Come on, I’ve got games to win before we go to bed.” 

[siriusblack-the-third]

Haven't written anything in a little while so here's a short prongsfoot drabble :))

.

Sirius can't find James.

Ergo, he does the most logical thing that can be done in this situation— goes to the Marauders' hidden library.

It wasn't originally a library. Sirius isn't sure it can be called one now either, but it's theirs, and the boys are proud of it. They found a hidden room behind the tapestry of Wilhelm the Weird in their second year, and Remus and James— the bookworms that they were— immediately pounced on the idea of setting up their own little library/ experimentation nook. It took them most of third year to set it up, what with dragging furniture to the fourth floor and smuggling in curtains and a chandelier and carpets and other stuff. Now, in their seventh year, it's the Marauders' favourite place.

Sirius slips behind the tapestry and places a palm on a particular stone. "I solemnly swear," he murmurs, lips twitching at the password they had set at the beginning of fourth year, "that I am up to no good. Marauder's honour."

Immediately, a door materialises next to the stone, and he turns the handle and swings it open silently. The walls are covered in shelves upon shelves of books ranging from magical theory to textbooks for Mastery to research papers to old myths and ancient histories to stories and novels and fiction and nonfiction— you name it. The candles and chandelier are lit, and the circular hearth in the centre of the room sports a magical smoke-free fire in a soft green. Sirius smiles. Green is James' favourite colour.

As expected, James is curled up in his favourite cozy green armchair, knees tucked close to his chest and glasses at the tip of his nose. His head is buried in that giant book Mr Potter sent him an hour ago, Arithmantic Advancements in The 18th Century, and it is no surprise to Sirius that he is almost a quarter of the way through it. James has a phenomenal reading speed, and is obsessed with Arithmancy.

Nerd, Sirius thinks fondly as he leans against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets, knowing full well that the term applies to him as well. All the Marauders are giant nerds and they know it, they own it; they make being a nerd cool.

Quiet as death, he pushes off the doorframe and moves forward till he is standing behind James, then leans down to murmur in his ear.

"Boo."

"AAI ZAVLI!"

James near about jumps out of his skin, and Sirius dodges the reflexive curse with a loud roar with laughter that echoes off the walls of the room. James reaches out to smack him upside the head, and Sirius lets him, too busy with doubling over and clutching his stomach to mind it much.

“Ton visage,” he gasps breathlessly, shoulders shaking with mirth, “ah putain, ton visage—”

He breaks off once again into helpless laughter, and James huffs indignantly.

“I could have hurt you, murkha!” he exclaims, and Sirius laughs even harder even though he knows just how dangerous that curse was. It would have made him cough up his lungs— certainly a most painful way to die.

“We both know the counterspell, mon amour,” he breathes, still chuckling. “I'd have been fine.”

James huffs again and crosses his arms over his chest, glaring up at Sirius. Times like these, Sirius relishes the few inches he has on James; he smirks and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead, raising a hand to tangle his index finger in a strand of pitch black hair and tug gently as a silent apology.

James cocks an eyebrow, and Sirius simply grins back, making him sigh in exasperation.

“Fine, fine, I forgive you,” he grumbles, and Sirius beams, wrapping an arm around him and tugging him forward into a soft, chaste kiss. James melts into the contact, reaching up to cup Sirius' cheeks and tilting his head down for a better angle.

“What did you want?”

Sirius shrugs. “I couldn't find you.”

He does not really have another answer, and they both know he does not need one. James gríns, that one expression that always promised chaos. “Then, help me get back at Moony, for giving me shit about that essay on reactive properties of powdered dragon scale.”

Sirius grins back, silver eyes sparking with mischief.

.

Translations

Aai zhavli: Marathi, literally "mother is fucked"

Murkha: Marathi, "idiot"

Ton visage: French, "your face"

Ah, putain: French, "oh fuck"

.

@roalinda @gracelesslady23 @strwbi-laces @prongsfoot-wolfstar

[macfrog]

wondering how you think joel (specifically sex on fire!joel but also normal joel works too) would deal with his partner having an anxiety episode (I have been struggling all day and just need tooth rotting fluff and comfort)

hi, baby. sorry you had a rough day! also so sorry i'm getting to this late; life has been crazy lately.

i'm sending you all my love. come hang anytime; cozy armchair club is open for you always 🩷 i have thought many, many times about sof!joel versus anxiety, and here are my thoughts.

first off, consider his schedule cleared. that dude is doing nothing until they feel themselves again. he's not so good at figuring the anxiety out, but he's good at making his person feel better, yk? so he sticks to what he knows.

he's coming over and he's bringing a bunch of flowers and their favorite box set. he's gonna sit and ask the same old questions, forget who every character is at least ten times over. by the end of the day, he's more invested in it than they are.

he's gonna talk if they wanna talk, or let them sleep if they wanna sleep. i don't think he sleeps, though - he's too busy watching them, too focused on his own movements so he doesn't accidentally wake them.

he's gonna order in shitty junk food, way more than either of them need or want. refuse to let them pay, refuse to let them go get the door, refuse to let them do anything but relax and rest. might poke fun at them when he spots some sauce at the corner of their mouth. might kiss it away.

and i think he's gonna quietly, gently, nudge them towards doing something. getting outside, taking a walk. taking a shower, or putting on some fresh clothes. literally anything just to put all that pent-up energy to some use and feel a little more them again.

i think he'd do whatever you wanted or whatever you asked him to, to make you feel better. which is exactly what you should do for yourself, right now. take it easy, nonnie.

feel better soon! i love you. you're doing great. i'm here any time if you need it x

[talesofesther]

prettiest dream

Xavier Thorpe x Reader

Summary: You and Xavier share a special moment by the fireplace of your living room.

Requested by anon

A/N: This story is part of my Christmas Special event. The song I imagined playing here is this one, but you can think of any you'd like. <3

Masterlist

It was nearly magical, the way the soft flames of the fireplace illuminated the cozy living room; along with the Christmas tree blinking its lights right beside it, the atmosphere could easily be picked out of the sweetest dream.

At first, Xavier had been apprehensive about spending Christmas with your parents, however now, after a joyful first meeting and delicious dinner with your family, he figured it wasn't that bad at all.

He had just come back from finishing drying the dishes, and was greeted with the sight of your sitting on your father's big armchair; hot chocolate mug in one hand and a book in the other, with the fire highlighting your profile in a golden glow. Xavier engraved the image in his mind to put it on paper once he had his sketchbook in hand — because he could swear that he's never been more in love than he is now.

You were so purely you, that sometimes he wondered why you still settled for someone like him. In his eyes, you were deserving of the world, and hopefully, he'd be able to give it to you one day.

There was a low, soft violin tune playing from your mother's old radio, it brought a small smile to Xavier's lips as he watched you — talk about a perfect setting.

"I can feel your thinking from here."

It was only once you spoke, that Xavier realized you had placed your mug and book down, and had your gaze fixed on him.

He chuckled, glancing down and feeling warmth coming to his cheeks from being caught staring. Taking careful steps toward you, he mindlessly outstretched a hand; "would you dance with me?"

Your cheeks framed your smirk adorably as you shook your head slightly. Planting your socked feet on the chilly wooden floor, you took his hand in yours and allowed him to pull you up. "And yet you don't believe me when I tell you that you came right out of a rom-com."

Intertwining your fingers, Xavier pulled your body to him, knocking your chests together softly as his free hand came to rest on your lower back.

"I try."

"Lucky me," you whispered, winding your arm around his neck and playing with his long hair.

You two weren't very much in synchrony with the notes coming from the radio, but it didn't matter; the low cracks of the fire could be heard beside you, the snow had started falling heavily outside as a few flakes clung to the window behind you, and Xavier could see the warm reflection of the Christmas lights on your irises. Everything was perfect in this little bubble.

"No, I'm the lucky one," Xavier mumbled back, bringing you closer still so he could rest his cheek on your temple as he swayed you side to side, "you make me the happiest I've ever been."

The words went beyond this one night and you knew that, it only made your heart beat louder for the sweet boy in your arms.

You kiss his neck, feeling the shape of his goosebumps on your lips; then you kiss his collarbone as your fingers disappear on his hair.

Xavier knows what you're saying, you know it by the way he nuzzles further into you. But you go a step further, because he holds your heart in his hands just as you do his.

You pull away just enough to plant a kiss on the corner of his lips, and you don't need to open your eyes to know he's smiling. "There's nowhere else I'd rather be. You know that yeah? As long as I'm with you I'm already at my happiest."

The words roll out of your mouth with such delicacy, such ease. Xavier feels the movement of your lips as they graze the corner of his mouth, and he swears that if he wasn't holding onto you right now, he'd be on his knees.

Maybe, just maybe, all it'd take for you to have the world, would be to have him. And you did, since the first ever hello.

Xavier's hair tickled your cheek when he brought his forehead to rest against yours, he bumped your nose with his, knowing it would get you grinning.

"I love you so damn much," he said, just before crashing your lips together to repeat the same words over and over with each kiss.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are very much appreciated. <3

Xavier’s taglist: @milkiane