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surielstea · 2 days

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Too Sweet

Based on this request

Pairing: Eris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader faces the mating bond with an unrelenting Eris

4.1k words

The mating bond. It was an unmistakable notion, and I have it.

Ever since I was a girl I dreamed of my mate sweeping me off my feet and riding off into the sunset. I've been all over Prythian, from summer to winter, but, nothing.

Except now I have the mating bond, a golden string so thin I thought it might snap at any second. I have it, but not with anyone from Summer or Winter, nowhere exotic or far away, but here. My golden string connected to the newly crowned High Lord, the very embodiment of Autumn.

I've known Eris for years, ever since my family came into nobility I was hurled into golden ballrooms and etiquette classes I had no desire to be in.

All the other girls stared at me like I was too poor, too odd. And all of the boys, well no one wants to be friends with a boy from the Autumn Court.

But when I met Lucien Vanserra everything changed. My father was delighted to hear I was becoming close with the High Lord's son, often encouraging me to further get to know the family, and so I did, I even met the esteemed High Lord but he wasn't much to prattle on about.

But the Heir? Oh gods, to say I had a crush was an understatement. I loved Lucien and all but, his brother sure was the highlight of visiting the Forest House.

Any girl would've fallen for the cooler, older brother— but it was never just a crush, it was always something more, something I was never able to explain and now I know why. Soul bound, cauldron fated, mates.

Eris knew, he's known for a while now, and I could feel it.

The male was sitting on the sofa next to Lucien while I sat on the floor petting one of the Shadow Hounds. He and Lucien were just talking about anything, laughing with each other like the boys they never got to be. But Beron's dead and the new High Lord could do whatever he wanted. Including being happy.

Eris was playing with a two-month-old puppy, the dog prancing across Eris's lap and I don't know why but that was it, that's what made the bond snap.

I could physically see the golden string bridging between us, I reached for it and as soon as my fingertips came to contact with it he jolted upward, head whipping towards me with concern laced in his gaze. The puppy looks up at him expectantly, cocking his head in confusion as to why he stopped playing with him.

"You alright?" Lucien said, hand coming to his brother's shoulder. Eris shutters at the contact but his eyes don't leave mine. He arched his brow a fraction, silently asking what the hell it was that I just did to him. I touch the string again and a shiver goes down my spine. "I'm fine," Eris settled back into the couch. "It's cold in here, is all," Eris mutters but that's a lie, it was burning hot in the sitting room. The two men in front of me were like furnaces, not to mention the blazing fire in the hearth.

"I'm going to bed," I get up, Lucien's eyes follow me but Eris doesn't look. "You're packed to leave in the morning?" He asks and I nod. We've been visiting Autumn for more than a week now, originally coming down to celebrate Eris's coronation but that turned into a vacation quickly, but now I feel I've overstayed my welcome. "Mhm," I nod.

"You should get some sleep too, we've got a long trip home," I say and he nods. "Don't worry so much about me," He waves me off and I roll my eyes, feigning casualty when my stomach is twisting itself into knots impossible to untangle. "Night Lu," I press a kiss to the top of his head and he smiles up at me. "Night, Eris," I glance at him and he simply nods, not saying anything, barely looking at me.

I stifle a sigh and turn on my heel, walking down the hall towards my bedroom.

Haco, Eris's leading shadow hound followed me to my bedroom, trotting after me, and once I turn to close the door he sits in the doorway, looking up at me with pleading eyes. I huff and open the door wider. I swear the hound smiles as he welcomes himself into my bedroom.

I flop down onto my large bed with a curse. This mattress was too large for one person, something that was meant to be shared between lovers. "C'mere," I pat the comforter, calling Haco up. He jumps onto the bed, his tail swishing in happiness as I scratch behind his ears. He walks in a circle before settling down at my side, curling into a ball with his head facing the door, like he's guarding me from any intruders.

"Who's a good boy?" I hum and his ears lift at the tone of my voice, turning his head to look at me. "Tell that owner of yours he needs to figure himself out," I say, using the dog as my therapist. The hound looks at me with sad eyes then chuffs and rests his chin down onto my open palm. I sadly smile at the dog, kissing him on the head before laying beside him.

Sleep doesn't come easy that night, in fact, it doesn't come at all. I listened to the muffled voices from down the hall until the familiar sound of Lucien's footsteps passed my door and his door shut, turning in for the night.

Eris's room was on the other side of the large house, the High Lord's room. I look at the dog next to me, a light snore coming from his snout. I smile and press a kiss to his nose. He opens his eyes sleepily, looking at me expectantly as I slide off of my mattress. "I'll be back, stay," I tell him, and Haco whines with a wag of his tail. "Stay," I stress and if he was a human he'd be rolling his eyes. He lays his head down, signaling his defeat. I smile in victory then slip out of my room, light on my feet as I pad down the hall and into the kitchen.

I thank the gods that the two Vanserra brothers finally left the room, I've been parched for a glass of water since I had first gotten into bed.

I pour myself a glass and drink deeply from it, allowing the cold water to slip down my dry throat. Once I finish the glass I go to put it in the sink but as I do a basket of pears catches my attention. Eris and I had gone to the orchards on horses and picked them this morning while Lucien slept in. I freeze mid-step, reminded of how mates accept the bond, how it'd be so easy to offer Eris food and have that happily ever after I've wanted since I was a girl. I sigh and put the glass in the sink, ignoring the pears and walking past them, towards my room.

But my movements are slow like I don't quite want to leave the freshly harvested fruit behind.

I weigh the pros and cons in the middle of the hallway. The worst that would happen is he didn't accept it and I'm crushed forever, but the 'what if?' Thoughts killed me. Because what if he does want it, and just ignores it because he knows I hate this court? What if he does want it and is just afraid I don't?

I sigh, this was shredding me into pieces and I've only been enduring the bond for a few hours. Gods know how long he's known. I spin on my heel and march back towards the basket of pears. If he doesn't accept it then that's fine, I don't want to force him into anything. But I needed to know. I was sick of this miscommunication, I needed closure and this is the best way to get it.

I washed the ripest pear I could find, it smelled the sweetest and yielded when I put pressure on its neck. I debated cutting the pear into slices but decided that'd take too long and I was already trying to talk myself out of my plans.

I stalk down the opposite hall, away from my room. Mapping my way through the sprawling complex of the forest house until I stand in front of a large wooden door, my brows creasing as I realize he might already be asleep.

I think to turn away and do this in the morning instead but before I can even take a step back, Haco scratches at the door with his paw. I didn't even realize the hound was there. Anxiety bubbles up in the pit of my stomach as dread consumes me and I feel my throat get dry all over again. I don't get the chance to flee before the door swings open, revealing a shirtless Eris with a crystal glass filled with an unmistakable amber liquid. I freeze in place. His eyes pin to mine as if he's shocked to see me.

The hound that's caused all of this pads away, down the hall back towards my bedroom like his work is done.

"I thought you were going to sleep?" He tilts his head. "I am— I was," I correct, looking down at the pear in my hand and then back up to him. Suddenly I felt helpless. Like a bunny in the presence of a fox. Utterly vulnerable and far too heedless. "I wanted to give this to you," I held the fruit out, he stared at it for a moment with those piercing golden eyes, but he didn't take it. "A pear?" He tilts his head dumbly as if he's never seen the food before. I swallow thickly. "Eris, please," I say. I didn't want to play these games, I wanted him to accept the bond, want him to accept me.

"I know you know, so just..." My voice trails off as I thrust the pear out towards him and he shakes his head no, taking a step back and my heart sinks into the pit of my stomach. "Eris, please," I repeat, brows creased as I stare at him with pure devotion. "You don't want this, don't want me," He denies. "I've wanted this since I was nineteen," I reason with him and his eyes widen a fraction in disbelief. "You wouldn't be happy with me, I want you to be happy," He argues and now it was my turn to shake my head, my hand dropping as I took a step into his office.

"I'm cruel and bitter, you don't want to live with that," He stresses and I take another step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his as I reach up and cup his jaw. "I've seen every part of you, I want every part," I reassure but he backs away. "Fawn, you don't understand I can't tie you down, you hate this Court and yet I'm the High Lord," He explains. "If we're mated you'd have to live here, I won't strip you of your freedom, I can't do it," He refuses and my frown deepens.

"I hated it here when Beron was in power, but now there's nothing I have to worry about," I argue and his expression matches mine, clearly distraught about the situation. "I'm standing here offering you food, I wouldn't be doing this if it wasn't exactly what I wanted, so eat," I hold the fruit up to his mouth but he catches my wrist, eyes staying on me. "You're too sweet," He sighs but my expression doesn't waver, eyes urging him to eat.

His stare doesn't leave mine as he leans forward and bites into the sugary fruit, the juice of the pear drips from the corner of his mouth and down his jaw, and maybe it was the low lighting, or The Frenzy already setting in, but suddenly I couldn't control my arousal as it spiked.

"You sure this is what you want?" He whispers and I wrap my arms around his neck, chest pressing to his as I crash my lips onto his it was slow and soothing and everything I've ever dreamed of. "There's no going back now," I uttered breathlessly onto his lips. "But yes, this is exactly what I want," I confess and a small smile curves over his lips before placing them right back onto mine. The gentle, chaste kiss quickly morphed into something hungrier and lust-filled. His large, veiny hands roamed down the small of my back, past the curve of my ass and to my thighs. I jump up and he catches me with ease, my legs wrapping around him as I get impossibly closer.

His mouth on mine made every part of me electric. He walks forward until my back is pinned against the wall. He leaves my lips and begins kissing down the column of my throat, his kisses sloppy and feverish and everything I ever wanted. He finds that sensitive spot at my neck and sucks hard.

My head tilts back at the sensation, I whine and he nips at the skin, his tongue quickly gliding over the area, massaging the irritated area and soothing it. "Eris," I sigh out and he sucks harder. "You have no idea how long I've waited to hear you moan my name," He grunts out and his voice, gods the feeling between my legs was growing unbearable.

"I need you, now," I beg. "Please, Eris," I whine and a foxlike smile spreads over his features, his sharp teeth against my neck. "M'sorry baby but I need to take this slow or I'll hurt you," He hums against my burning hot skin. But the arousal, it was too much, too thick between us, I needed him. I rolled my hips onto his abdomen in a needy attempt for friction.

"I don't care, please, Eris," I whimper and his smile only widens. "I want every part of you, remember?" I sigh. "So show me when you’re feral, Eris," I say, pecking up his jaw. The room suddenly becomes ten times hotter as a fire bursts into flames in the furnace.

He didn't reply but instead pushed off the door and carried me towards the large bed.

The mattress was soft against my back as he laid me down with a delicate touch. My legs immediately spread to either side of him, the ache at my core growing to become an inextinguishable fire.

"Gods, you were made for me," He hums, leaning over me. I arch toward him because I was, in fact, made for him. Cauldron fated since the beginning, souls intertwined by birth. "And you, for me," I smile without hesitance as I pull him down by the back of his neck to my lips, sealing my mouth over his.

I hook a leg around his thigh and use all my weight to flip us over, my chest pressed into him as he lands on his back, head on the pillow as an amused smile grows across his features. I grin dreamily and begin to kiss down his jaw, leaving a trail to his neck while his touch roams every inch of me, hands snaking beneath my nightgown and hiking the thin silk up higher.

I grind down onto his hard cock and he grunts in reply, gritting his teeth at the pleasurable feeling. He gets frustrated with the strings of my delicate dress and simply tears it in two, large, strong hands stripping me from the material and leaving me completely bare before him, aside from my remaining undergarments. He curses and grips my breast, causing me to moan and grind down harder onto his member. He massaged my breast with calloused fingertips as I worked at the ties of his pants, needing him now.

He was quick to help me out, stripping me from my bra and then, like the dress, ripping off my panties.

A moment later we're both entirely bare.

My lips pressed to his yet again because he tasted like he smelled, cinnamon and a certain spice that could only be replicated with a mix of smoke and clove. His tongue ran over mine, tasting every exposed inch of me like I was as sweet as honey. I lift onto my knees and align myself with his throbbing cock, he grunts, pulling away from my mouth. "Baby, you can't," He pants in a soft tone. "It'll be too much you need to be prepped," He explains and I all but whine out my reply, "I can, please Eris I'll be so good for you."

"You gonna finish what you started?" His brow arched up the slightest in question and I nod with glossed over eyes. He then grips my hips and pushes me down, his cock splitting me in two as he manages to stuff half of him inside of me. I scream out from the painful pleasure, nails scratching down his chest at the intense feeling of his wide, thick cock spreading me out, my sensitive walls forming around him as I slowly sink myself further down, letting gravity do most of the work until I eventually reach the base of him.

Tears well in my eyes at how gods dammed big he was, I swore I could feel him between my ribs. I stifle a deep breath and slowly begin to grind down, my legs jolting occasionally at the stimulation. His hands roamed from my breasts to my thighs, rough skin brushing over every part of me for pleasure alone and I was drunk on it.

I began moving faster, lifting and driving my hips over his while he stared up at me with pure lust. "S'too big," I rasp out, and a conniving smirk cuts across his features. "My poor girl, can only think about my cock hm?" He tilts his head and all I can do is nod, agreeing just in case he'd make me stop if I didn't. My panting becomes more and more irregular, breathless moans escaping me every time the head of his cock kisses that intense, sensitive spot of my cervix. By the Mother, he's so fucking huge.

A knot bundles at the edge of my stomach, twining itself tighter and tighter as I rut myself over him.

His hand drifts to my ass, gripping it tightly in one of his hands while the other does the same to my hip. "Fuck, you're doing so well riding me baby," He praises and my cheeks heat, from both the heat of the room and the vulnerability of all of this. Baring my very soul to him, giving him my body, him, my mate.

"Faster baby," He orders, and I do as he says to the best of my abilities, he slaps my ass, hard, and I release an unearthly and lewd sound at the feeling, making me go double the speed. "That's it, so good for me," He commends and a dazed smile washes over my features, the knot growing stronger and harder to ignore.

"M’close, Eris," I warn and he nods. "It's okay, me too baby," He reassured and right on queue he twitches inside of me, the slight curve of his cock pressing into my most sensitive place deliciously. His hand navigates all the way up to my neck, wrapping around the back of it then pulling me down to his lips, softly pressing my mouth into his as I continue to spear myself atop him, breasts bouncing at the action as he continued to grip one of them.

"Cum on my cock," He orders, pulling away as he bit down on my lower lip and I whimper, tears now streaming onto my cheeks. My brows crease as my entire body shivers and I feel an electric surge race through me, finally reaching that orgasmic high, subconsciously clenching around him at the sensation and involuntarily making him find his own release. He grunted out as I screamed his name, nails marking lines down his chest as I milk his cock, his warm seed pumping inside of me as the fire in the hearth roared with intensity.

The room is filled with heavy panting and soft groaning as we both come down from our shared high, my legs shaking and my head dipping into his shoulder.

"Fuck, you did so good baby," He sighs out, going to move me off of him but I shake my head and cling to his chest, his member still nestled deep inside of me, holding his cum in. "Not yet," I whispered tiredly. "Wanna stay like this," I hum and his arms wrap tightly around my waist, my chest pressed to his as the fire slowly dwindles. "You're so perfect," He presses a hard kiss to the crown of my head and I furrow deeper into his shoulder.

"My sweet girl," He hums and the new name has my chest blooming in warmth.

I shift my hips, his cock brushing against my sensitive walls and making me shiver. Only then did his member begin to harden again, and I knew then that with his Fae endurance and my arousal, that it was going to be a long night.

———

"Eris I know she's in there open up!" Lucien calls through the door as I stir from my sleep, slowly waking up from my short-lived sleep. "You woke her up, asshole!" Eris shouts back, holding me close to his chest as if Lucien was about to burst in through the High Lord's door at any moment.

"Then tell her we have to leave," Lucien demands through the door as I peek my eyes open. "You couldn't pry her from my dead body," Eris retorts and I can practically see Lucien rolling his eyes on the other side of that door. "Eris maybe I should go—" I don't even get to finish my sentence before he pulls me into him, my face smushed into his shoulder.

"Oh my sweet girl, you're foolish to think you're leaving my side for the rest of the week," He hums and I pull away from his shoulder and look up at him. "I was going to say maybe I should go tell him I'm not coming with," I say, planning on staying at his side for more than just a week. "Oh, okay," He murmurs, arms loosening from my waist and I giggle, getting out of the bed and pulling Eris' shirt from the desk chair and sliding it over my frame so I was decently covered before facing Lucien.

Before I can open the door, my mate appears behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist possessively. I hold back a scoff and swing the door open, meeting a very disgruntled Lucien with my packed bag in his arms.

"I'm not coming," I say blankly and he matches my stare. "I know," He hands me my bag and I thank him with a wide smile. Eris' arms tighten at the action, his head dipping down into my shoulder as he begins to trail kisses up my neck.

"This, it's weird," He gestures to us and I giggle, hand coming up to the nape of Eris's neck. "Alright, have fun lovebirds," Lucien knocks on the wood of the doorframe as a farewell, then he leans in to place a kiss on the crown of my head like he does every time we bid each other a farewell but he freezes as a low growl sounds from the bottom of the High Lord's throat.

"Right, see you soon, hopefully," He says then walks down the hall, Eris quickly shuts the door once he's gone then pushes me up against it, my cheek pressed to the cold wood as his hardened member presses against my ass. "You look so cute in my clothes," He purrs, kissing up my jaw to my ear, nipping at my lobe, and making me curse in pleasure. I knew then it was going to be a long, yet enjoyable week.

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leafsheep · 2 days

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When Dick first met Tim, he was a kid at his doorstep begging him to be Robin again, begging him to go back to Bruce so that Bruce could be okay again. He understood what Tim was saying then, and maybe he should’ve said okay- hell he wished he had some days, because now he looks at Timothy and just knows that he could’ve avoided so much suffering if Dick had just agreed.

But he had been fighting with Bruce, he wasn’t okay either. How was he supposed to be okay? How was he supposed to hold together Bruce when he was barely holding himself together? How was he supposed to go back to being Robin when Robin was dead?

Robin was dead. He was dead.

Dick didn’t know when Robin started dying to him. When he was kicked out of the manor, maybe? Or maybe it was when he saw Jason standing in his family colors. Either way Dick knew his mother’s Robin was dying around that time- and when Jason died, when he saw that goddamn shrine to his baby brother who he barely knew… when he realized his family colors, his name, his childhood, was soaked in blood. That’s when he knew Robin was dead.

But if Dick said he didn’t wish he had agreed to Tim’s request he’d be lying. Because seeing another Robin one who was Robin not for himself but for Bruce- for Batman. That put the nail in the casket. Watching Tim as Robin twisted Dick’s guts inside him, it mocked him and told him that Robin will never mean what it once did.

Stephanie’s stint with his name, he didn’t know much of, but his stomach dropped when he heard of what happened to her. He remembered the feeling of guilt and anger pooling inside him, a stinging string of memories and harsh words in his head to remind him of how he should’ve been there.

With Damian he felt bad to take the name from Tim, he felt queasy about letting anyone have the name at all in all honesty, but he was so like him. He looked at Damian and saw the young circus boy who was angry and impulsive and full of potential. He saw Robin.

Damian was brash and he didn’t respect Dick much at first, to him Robin was a connection to his Father who he had lost, Dick could work with that, sure Bruce wasn’t Dick’s Mother and Father, but the basic idea of Robin was the same to them back then.

It’s much later when Dick realizes that it wasn’t just Tim that was hurt by his decision to make Damian Robin. It wasn’t until he failed to save the boy from the clone of himself that he realized how horrible his decision was. Seeing the littlest Robin, blood seeping into his family colors once more, Dick Grayson realized he never should have turned down Tim all those years ago, if he hadn’t, this wouldn’t have happened. He realized he should never have left the manor in the first place, he should’ve kept going as Robin and never let Bruce give Jason the name in the first place— or he at least should’ve been able to pick up his damn phone all those years ago, maybe that would’ve changed things too.

Even with the resurrection of Damian, of Robin, Dick can’t see his colors the same.

His parents would never be proud of him if they saw what he let Robin become, a line of young kids all doomed by their name. By his name. He let his family name become a death sentence.

#dc comics #dc robin #batman #batfamily #jason todd #red hood #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #stephanie brown #spoiler dc #damian wayne #bruce wayne #batfam #mini fic #i guess #character thoughts

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 day

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the girl next door 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, manipulation, chronic illness, noncon/dubcon, coercion, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: A new neighbour moves in and upends your already disarrayed life.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself.

This lewk but silverfox

Even if the work is a lot and at times tedious, you’re grateful for the excuse to stay inside. As you hole yourself inside the house and tidy the messes, big and small, you can hear the conversations out the walls, wafting in through open windows. It’s as content as your mother’s been in the last few years. Steve is nice enough and he doesn’t have that same snooty lean as the other suburbanites.

As you mop, you think of how he mentioned the city. You wonder what it was like. Before your grandma passed, you and your mom lived in a walk-up in a small town. Everyone there knew your names too and reviled it just the same. You never mean any harm but wherever you go, you seem to inspire spite.

Dishes, floor, walls, dusting, errant cobwebs, clutter...

You work until your mother comes in, swinging the door violently as she drags herself inside. You go to help her and she swats you away. You retreat and she finds her way to the recliner. You shut the door and lock it.

“Wonderful man,” she groans as she lays her head back and tilts the chair, extending the footrest, “don’t make ‘em like that anymore. He’s the sort I shoulda picked.” She closes her eyes and gives a wry hum, “’specially over your dad.”

You don’t say a word. She only mentions your father to remind you of that half of you she hates. You gather up the clothes on the couch into a basket. The laundry will have you up late. Your own fault; you should’ve done this all a lot sooner.

“Should I start dinner?” You ask.

“I don’t know if I’m in the mood for burnt chicken,” she scoffs meanly.

“I could do mac and cheese,” you offer.

“I’m teasing ya. Jeez, you got no sense of humour,” she sighs dreamily, “not like Steve. Such a charming man.”

You pass through the kitchen and descend to the basement to fill the washer. You add soap and twist the knob. You leave the basket on the lid and head back up. You peruse the fridge as you ponder what to make. Mac and cheese would be easiest.

You get started and the TV blips on in the next room. The audio helps chase away the tension. You leave the water to boil and lean on the archway that looks into the front room.

“Um, mom, what should I make tomorrow? For uh, dinner? With... him?”

“Well, don’t sound so damn excited,” she sits up, “whatsa matter with you? The nice man wants to come see us, unlike the rest of these snobs. My own sister won’t come through that door.” She snorts and shakes her head, “you can go to the store tomorrow and grab something nice. I don’t want ya serving that man starchy potatoes. Down at the fancy store, they got those premade meals.”

“Those are expensive,” you remark.

“And? You get your stipend, you don’t gotta be leeching off of me,” she snips.

“Um, yes, I know, I wasn’t--”

“God, look at that,” her eyes flick up to the ceiling, goddamn dusty, it’s a wonder I can breathe.”

You look up and see what she means. There’s a layer of dusty on the ceiling fan as it turns lazily on its lowest setting.

“I’ll get it--”

“Better. You’re not gonna embarrass me tomorrow. I’d be better off if you stay in your room,” she tuts.

“If you want--”

“No, you come out and say hi. Don’t be rude. You know I did try to teach you manners. You just never spoke enough to use them.”

You frown and look down meekly. She’s not wrong. You turn and go to grab the duster. You don’t think tomorrow is going to be any different than any other.

🏠

The next morning, go out to the grocery store to grab the meal for that evening. As you return, you linger at the end of the street. You can see Steve on his lawn. You wait for him to go inside before you drive up and pull into the driveway.

You carry the bags inside with your sights set on the house and nothing else. Inside, you put down your haul on the counter and put each item away, one at a time. Your mother is in the bathroom, chirping out a song out of key.

“God dammit,” she snarls, “I can’t find my red lipstick,” she rattles through her bin of makeup. She doesn’t wear it very often. “Get in here.”

Before you can pass the open door, her demand pulls you back. You enter as she sits on a stool in front of the mirror. She shoves the bin away and grumbles.

“Here,” she holds out a pair of tweezers with a tremble, “damn brows are unruly.”

You nod and step closer. You press a hand gently to her forehead and pluck out the stray hairs, shaping them as best you can.

“Don’t forget my lip,” she huffs hot breath onto you. “Don’t think he’ll like the tickle.”

She chuckles to herself. You don’t get it. You finish and step back, holding up the hand mirror for her. She shrugs.

“Get me some of that moisturizer,” she points unsteadily to the shelf above the toilet. You do as she says. “Mm,” she grumbles as you face her again, “not wearing that, are ya?”

You look down. The loose tee shirt with butterflies on it and the faded jeans are a bit plain. You tug on the hem and raise your head.

“You got a dress somewhere in there,” she shakes her head as she flips the cap up on the bottle after three tries. “I bought you some nice ones and you never put them one.”

“Uh, okay, yeah, I’ll check,” you promise. “Need help?”

You reach for the bottle and she keeps it out of your reach. You back up and leave her. You can sense her agitation growing.

You cross the hall to your bedroom and go to the closet. You slide the door open and sift through the contents hung from the bar. There’s a dress. A pink polka dot dress she got you in high school. Nothing special; a bargain bin cotton a-line with thin straps.

You take it out and examine it. That was the only dance you went to. You got stood up by the boy who asked you. You realise now it was only ever a joke at your expense.

You undress by your bed and put the dress on. It’s tight. Maybe it’s shrunk or maybe you’ve gotten bigger. You didn’t think your chest had grown that much since high school but it’s bulging out and your thighs feel a bit too exposed. You go into the hall and back into the bathroom. You shift the door as you mother works as spreading the eye cream above her cheekbones.

You look at your reflection and cringe. You turn to your mom.

“It’s too small,” you say to her.

She peers over with a scowl. She looks you up and down and drops the tube of cream. She shakes her head.

“Put a sweater over it,” she sneers, “it’s fine.”

“Right, uh, okay,” you agree and swallow. Even with a sweater, you don’t know. The skirt won’t be any longer.

“Would ya stop crowding me?” She shoos you tersely.

You push the door back against the wall and slip out of the bathroom. You head back to your bedroom and pick out a grey cardigan. It has no buttons but it’s at least as long as the dress. It’s better than feeling so exposed.

You hardly think it will matter. You already feel like a third wheel. Steve didn’t exactly spend hours talking to you and your mother as much as said you are collateral. They’re both just putting up with you because you’re there.

You run your hands over your face and hair. Can't dress that up. You pout at your reflection. You wish you could iust hide on your room and draw.

You look over at your sketchbook and cross the room. You sit on your bed and slide the folding table close. You open the pages and pick up the pencil. You straighten the page you tore from the old home and garden magazine and copy the shape of the amaryllis petals.

You can forget a little longer until real life wakes you up.

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #captain america #drabble #series #au #silverfox au #the girl next door #mcu #marvel

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sluttywonwoo · 2 days

Text

instead of you [part forty-one] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol consumption, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.2k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: semi-public messing around, oral - m+f receiving

The other resorts along the shore were nice, yes, but they were also crowded to all hell. There’s no way you would have been able to relax at any of them. Not just because crowds make you anxious, but because Minho probably wouldn’t be able to show his face anywhere. He’d have to wear a hoodie to the pool or swim with a baseball cap on, and even those weren’t guaranteed to be foolproof.

There were hardly any people occupying the outdoor spaces so late in the day so it was like you had the place to yourselves. You and Felix continued to play in the pool while Minho grilled steaks and Jisung worked upstairs. You offered to accompany Jisung while he cooked but he assured you that he was fine to do it himself. Sometimes you kept him company at home but you knew he liked to work alone as well.

The room that you and Jisung were staying in was a standard hotel room but Nikki and Dom had a suite with a kitchenette that he could use to prepare the side dishes.

You ate gathered around one of the fire pits as the sun sank beneath the waves in the distance. When it got too dark out, Dom lit the fire so that you could all see what you were eating. There were path lights littered around the resort but they weren’t bright enough to illuminate the adjacent sitting areas too.

“I wish we had marshmallows,” you sighed. “We could roast them and make s’mores.”

“I think the bar sells little kits,” Jisung piped up. “I remember seeing a sign posted on their menu.”

“How convenient!” Nikki exclaimed.

“Want me to grab some?” Minho offered, already standing from his seat.

You had once again put yourself on the spot. Everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“I-I’d feel bad. I’m the only one who wants them, so you don’t have to!”

“Don’t be silly, we’d all eat them,” Jisung assured you with a pat on your knee.

“Yeah, I’ve always wanted to try s’mores,” Felix agreed.

Your mouth dropped open in shock. “Wait, you’ve never had one?”

“They’re an American thing, babe.”

“Does that mean you’re the only other one here who has had a s’more?” you asked Jisung.

“I might have had one before,” Minho added thoughtfully.

“Might? You don’t remember?”

“Yeah, well, when we were on the first world tour we had a lot of bonfires and shit but I was pretty drunk at all of them so there could have been s’mores there, there could not have been. I dunno.”

“Anyway,” Nikki swooped in, averting the attention away from her eldest son’s anecdotes of underage drinking. “Minho, why don’t you go grab a few kits from the bar Ji mentioned? I think your father and I would like to try a s’more too.”

“How many do you think we need?” Minho asked.

“It depends on how many each serves. Why don’t we start with two and if we run out of supplies we can send Felix up to get more.”

Felix made a face. “What, me?”

“It wouldn’t be fair to send Minho up twice,” Dom explained.

“What about Jisung?”

“He cooked dinner.”

“I’ll be right back,” Minho interjected, cutting Felix off before he could protest any further. “Does anyone want anything to drink while I’m over there?”

He took everyone’s order and then disappeared in the direction of the bar.

“Do you think he’ll need help carrying stuff?” you whispered to Jisung after he left.

“Oh, shit, maybe.”

“Should I go help him? Would that be weird?”

Jisung looked back toward his parents to check that they weren’t paying attention before answering. “No, I don’t think so. No one suspected anything other than me. Do you want me to go with you, though?”

“No, you cooked,” you reminded him, “you should stay and relax. I’ll go help him.”

He nodded. “Okay. Oh, but kiss me before you go.”

Minho was still waiting when you joined him at the bar. It was almost as deserted as the rest of the pool area. Only a couple of people were occupying the stools and they seemed to be strangers to each other, drinking in silence apart from the waves crashing on the shore nearby and the occasional sound of the blender.

“Hey, stranger,” you said, grabbing Minho’s attention with an elbow to his side.

“Hey... did someone forget to ask for something?”

“No, I came to help you. We realized it’s a lot of stuff to carry all by yourself.”

He scoffed. “You doubted me?”

The bartender placed the drinks and s’mores kit down on the counter in front of Minho right at that moment, leaving both of you to size up all there was to bring back to the fire pit.

“You could have carried all that without spilling anything?”

“Fine, maybe it’s good that you came,” he grumbled.

“Maybe?”

He set his jaw and took a deep breath. “It is good that you came. Thank you for helping. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

You grabbed two of the drinks while Minho took the rest, holding the plastic bags of s’mores supplies between his teeth.

Nikki and Dom cheered when you reappeared with everything. The twins looked marginally happier. It was honestly as much as you could ask for from them.

You spent the rest of the evening teaching the Hans how to make, what was in your opinion, the perfect s’more. There were only a few skewers to go around so everyone had to take turns, but it was nice to be able to take your time with something and relax. There hadn’t been much time to do that on this trip. Jisung had warned you of that in the beginning but you were still way more exhausted than you expected to be at this point. At least it was almost over.

The thought of the trip ending was one that you had been pushing to the back of your mind for weeks now. Especially now that Jisung knew what had happened, you didn’t want to think about what would happen when you went back home. Would you grow apart? Would he distance himself once he was no longer in forced proximity with you? Would Minho break up with you? It wasn’t just something you could ignore now. There were only a matter of days left.

When it was over, you would go back to Seoul with the Hans until the summer ended officially. But that would be different too.

“You’re burning your marshmallow, love,” Nikki said softly, putting her hand on your shoulder to get your attention.

“Oh!” you exclaimed and pulled your skewer out of the heat. You blew the flame out and transferred it onto a graham cracker.

“Do you want a new one?” Dom asked.

“No, that’s okay! I like them burnt, actually. I just didn’t mean to leave it in the fire for so long. It could have made a mess.”

Jisung’s dad shrugged as if to say ‘suit yourself’ before taking the rod from you and reloading it with fresh marshmallows.

If it was woodburning, the fire would slowly start to dwindle as the kindling turned to ash. Since it wasn’t, it was still burning as brightly as it had been at the start of the evening when Dom finally turned the propane off. Nikki collected the empty cups and dirty skewers to return to the bar.

“Good night, kids. Don’t stay up too late.”

Felix was the first out of the four of you to go up to his room, leaving you with your best friend and... Minho.

The pool area was completely empty by then.

“I’ll uh, I’ll leave you two,” Jisung said and stood to leave.

You grabbed his hand to stop him. “Wait, no, you don’t have to go.”

“Yeah,” Minho agreed, a little less convincingly. “You should stay.”

Jisung shook his head. “No thanks, I’d rather not third-wheel.”

“Ji-”

“Take as much time as you need,” he said to you. “Just don’t get fucking caught by anyone else.”

You waited for him to leave before slumping forward and sighing into your hands.

“I thought you said he forgave you,” Minho whispered.

“He did. That doesn’t mean he’s okay with it,” you sighed.

Minho leaned back and stretched his arm across the back of the loveseat, inviting you to sit with him. You crossed over to his side and joined him, allowing yourself to lean into his side. He wrapped his arm around you and squeezed your shoulder. It felt nice, to do something so domestic with him, even while sitting in complete silence. Still, you worried about someone seeing you.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

“You.”

“What about me?”

“Just you.”

You didn’t want to give him the details and risk ruining the mood so you hoped he was content with that answer. Thankfully, he didn’t ask you to elaborate.

You shivered suddenly, unintentionally but thankfully changing the subject.

“Are you cold?” Minho asked.

“A little.”

“Should I turn the fire pit back on?”

You shook your head. “No, it’s so dark out now. It’ll only draw attention to us.”

“I don’t want you to be cold, though.”

“I’ll be fine.”

Minho didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t we get in the hot tub? You still have your bathing suit on, right?”

“Are we allowed to?”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not.”

You followed Minho over to one of the many hot tubs on the property. It was tucked away behind the now-deserted tiki bar and also totally empty. Minho turned on the jets and ventured down into the water, holding his hand out for you to get in behind him.

You let out a sigh as you sank into the bubbling water, closing your eyes and resting your head against the pool’s edge.

“Better?”

“So much better.”

You looked over to see him smile. “Good.”

You hadn’t realized how cold you were until you were warm. The chill had seeped through your bathing suit too. You could feel it ebbing out of the fabric as well as your muscles the longer you sat in the water.

Minho settled next to you and put his hand on your thigh. It was comforting even though his hand was still cold.

“This is nice,” he said.

“It is nice,” you agreed. “I like being able to do just nothing with you.”

“We don’t get a lot of time to do that, do we?”

“No, not really.”

“Guess that just means we have to enjoy it while we have it.”

You sat up to look at him, wondering if he meant something more than what was implied when he said that. He met your gaze and gave you a questioning look.

“What?” You shook your head and sank further into the bubbles. You were reading way too much into everything. You needed to get a grip.

“What’s wrong?” Minho repeated. “Talk to me.”

“I’m scared to,” you finally admitted.

It wasn’t much, but you were finally being honest with Minho instead of skirting around his questions like you usually did. You could tell your answer hurt him but you were afraid that you’d hurt yourself even more if you told him everything. You had a feeling the conversation was going there anyway, though, and there was little you could do to stop it.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I don’t know... what we are?” You cringed as you said it. “And I don’t want to ruin things by asking, you know, because I like what we have going on and I don’t want it to go away but I also don’t want to get my hopes up by thinking we’re something that we’re not but sometimes you do things that make me think you want something more than... whatever it is we’re already doing but- mph!”

You were cut off with a kiss, like something out of a movie. It was brief, but enough to disrupt your train of thought. You stared at him incredulously, trying to read his expression.

His face was even but his eyes were warm. You wished you knew what he was thinking. Moonlight and the flickering flames of torches in the distance were just enough to illuminate his features. The quirk of his cupid’s bow, the flutter of his long eyelashes...

“What was that for?” you inquired, even though you knew what it was for.

“You were spiraling.”

You sighed, dropping your head into your hands. “I can’t help it.”

“I know,” Minho said softly. “For what it’s worth though, I feel the same way.”

You lifted your head to look at him again, your vision slightly blurred by the water dripping down your face from your wet hands. “What?”

He hesitated. “I feel... what you said. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t even know what I said,” you laughed.

“Me either, but I got the general vibe of it and I’m in agreement.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I... I thought I was making it kind of obvious that I wanted something serious with you.”

“You never said anything outright, though!”

“Because I didn’t know what you wanted,” he explained. “You never said anything either.”

“Well, you’re the man!”

Minho raised an eyebrow. “Oh, we’re going there? The feminism just evaporates from your body the moment you’re faced with confrontation?”

“See, you get it.”

He rolled his eyes. “I’m telling you now, okay? I want you. In all the ways you’re willing to let me have you.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. You didn’t want to start crying and you didn’t want Minho to see you crying so you kissed him again, with more urgency this time. You couldn’t think, hell, you couldn’t breathe, until he pulled away, leaving you wishing and hoping for more.

When your lips met for the third time, he pulled you under with him, just long enough to shock your senses. You gasped for air when you surfaced, pushing your wet hair out of your eyes.

“You’re not supposed to do that!” you scolded, sputtering as you shoved him.

He stumbled backward onto the bench, falling seated again and pulling you on top of him.

“You believe that bullshit?” he scoffed.

“It’s not bullshit! It’s not good for you to put your head under the water in a hot tub!”

“I know people say that but why?”

“I... I don’t know why,” you admitted, “but I know you’re not supposed to.”

“See, you don’t even know!” You gave him a look. “Will you accept an ‘I’m sorry’ kiss?”

“That depends, are you actually sorry?”

He didn’t bother answering. Instead, he kissed you anyway, cradling the back of your head as he slipped his tongue past your lips. He tasted like s’mores and whiskey and chlorine, a combination so strange you couldn’t wrap your head around it.

One of his arms dropped to your waist, wrapping around your body and pulling you closer until your chests were pressed together. You could feel him through his swim trunks, growing harder by the second. You were tempted to take him right there, but you were in public and having sex in a hot tub couldn’t be good either, right? That sounded like an infection waiting to happen.

“Upstairs?” Minho asked breathlessly, lips only centimeters from yours. Not for the first time you wondered if he could read your mind.

You nodded. “Yeah, upstairs.”

You dripped your way back to his room, shivering despite the thick towel wrapped around your shoulders.

“Wanna hop in the shower?” Minho asked between kisses as he fumbled with the straps of your bikini.

“Yeah, don’t want to get your bed all wet,” you replied.

“That would happen whether or not we had just been in the pool,” he joked.

“Hilarious.”

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” he hissed. “Let’s get these off of you, they’re so cold.”

“Is that the only reason you want them off?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

You knew Minho was expecting to have sex in the shower but you kind of wanted to fuck on the bed so you sucked his dick while he washed your hair and then took turns rinsing off before moving to his bed. You put your hair up in a towel to avoid the aforementioned wetness and wrapped yourself up in one of the hotel’s robes even though you knew it’d be coming right off.

To your surprise, Minho left your robe on. He just undid the tie around your waist and let it fall open before shouldering himself between your legs. It was kind of like putting a towel down. He was killing two birds with one stone that way: protecting the sheets and keeping you warm.

It didn’t take long for you to cum in his mouth. Minho knew your body like the back of his hand by now. It had taken him a fraction of the time it took your past lovers to learn what made you tick and he used all of that knowledge to his advantage.

He kept going after you came the first time, eager to pull another from you, but you pulled him up by the hair to get his attention before he could get too into it.

“Too much?” he asked.

“Want you to fuck me,” you urged.

Thankfully, he was receptive to this and moved up so that he could position himself on top of you. He notched himself at your entrance and kissed you as he pushed himself inside, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue before pulling away and wiping his face on your shoulder.

“Ew!” you cried and tried to push him away.

Minho looked offended. “What do you mean, ‘ew’? It’s you.”

“That doesn’t mean I want me all over what I’m wearing!”

“Since when?” he joked. “Seems like it’s always all over what you’re wearing when you’re around me.”

“Can we please talk about something else?” you begged, suddenly embarrassed and grossed out at the same time.

Minho laughed and pecked you on the cheek. “What would you rather talk about? The weather?”

You tightened around him as punishment, making him swear and bury his face in your neck. “Fucking hell, you succubus.”

You smiled politely and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him closer. “Don’t people usually say that if she can talk at all, you’re doing it wrong?”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “I was just taking it easy on you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah, this was for your benefit,” he continued. “Didn’t want to overwhelm you.”

“How gracious of you.”

He clenched his jaw as he started fucking you faster, muttering sarcastically, “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was boring you.”

Ironically, you couldn’t respond right away, too caught up in the feeling of how deep he was inside of you to get any words out.

“I forgive you,” you choked out finally.

Your hands fell to his biceps, desperate for something to hold on to. You dug your nails into his skin, making him hiss through his teeth.

“Harder,” he urged. You squeezed harder and he gasped. “Fuck yes, keep doing that.”

“Like this?”

“Just like that, baby. That’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series #stray kids x female reader

134 notes · View notes

worldofkuro · 1 day

Text

Painted Smile

Painted Smile V

<- Previous Chapter

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Summary: You couldn't wait to meet new friends. What you didn't expect was this smiling little boy, only one year older than you, that would take such a big place in your life.

Notes: I think I wrote more for this chapter. I hope you'll enjoy this chapter dear readers. Let me know what you think about it.

“ You look.. dishearten, my friend”

You sighed as you looked at your friend: Alice. She was one of the first female friends you made 6 years ago at school. She was one of the sweetest girls you have ever met. She had long blonde locks with beautiful sapphire eyes, her voice sounded like a siren’s song. You were proud to be her friend, almost all of the boys who laid their eyes upon her were almost falling to their knees ready to propose to her.

“ I have no idea what to do for Alastor’s birthday.” you sighed “ no idea of a present.”

Alice clapped in her hand with a big grin and you couldn’t help but scoff at her radiance. She always loved when you were talking about yours and Alastor’s relationship. You didn’t really know why but she wanted to meet him. Well… yes, you knew why. Alastor was … He was…

“ How old is he ?” she asked you as she drank her cup of tea.

“ Well, he is going to turn seventeen. So I want to make him something special.” you sighed once again as you laid your cup of hot chocolate on the table.

“ How long have you known each other ? “

“ Almost eight years.” you smiled fondly. Eight years. You’ve been friends with Alastor for eight years and you have loved every single year. You looked into your cup of hot chocolate, the colour reminded you of Alastor’s eyes. Alastor wasn’t a little boy anymore, he had become taller. Taller than you, his frame was more muscular thanks to his hunting trip, he had become more teasing, sneakier, and cunnier but the biggest problem was… He had become so handsome. He lost his chubby cheeks, now his jaw was sharp, his eyes were even more intense than before when he was interested in something, he was–

“ Should I let you alone with your chocolate~?” you jerked your head toward Alice who had a teasing smile on her lips. You chuckled while shaking your head, blushing a little. You daydreamed again ! “ Why do you not want me to meet him, I really want to meet your beau, you know? I have never seen you like this, never did someone make you react like this.”

“ Listen… He is.. an important childhood friend and he can be … intense sometimes. I don’t think you could handle him.” you said as you sipped your drink. You didn’t feel comfortable making Alastor and Alice meet. You knew that Alastor could be an ass sometimes and Alice was too sweet to … understand it ? “ But back to the topic, what should I give him for his birthday …”

“ From what you told me, he seems to really care about you, and with this war going on, I’m sure he’d rather you kept your money.” she smiled at you as you bit your lips. That was the problem. Alastor was going to be 17 years, next year he would turn 18. That means he … would be taken to war right? You felt yourself getting paler as many scenarios went inside your head.

The only good news was that his father had been dragged to war, unfortunately just like yours, meaning that Alastor and Marie were finally alone in their house. After the hunting’s trip’s accident eight years ago, you’ve never trusted his father again. Many times you went to Marie’s house and each time her husband was home you could feel the tension lingering in the air. When he was here, you and Alastor would go outside, play with Husker, play tag or hide and seek.

Alastor never really talked about his father, but you could sense that he hated him. But you didn’t know why and one day, you tried to push on the subject, you wanted to help him in any way possible.

This was the first time Alastor had raised his voice at you.

“ Are you okay?” you lifted your head toward your friend. “ He won’t go to war, from what the paper says, it seems like it’s going to end soon!” she smiled at you as she took your hand in hers. You sighed, praying that you would never have to send Alastor to war. Alastor has tried to reassure you by saying that if he were to go to war, he would be an amazing soldier.

War is like a big hunt.

“ Yes, yes… I think I’m going to go home. I need to finish some homework and I don’t want to leave my mother alone.”

“ Did Delilah steal your work again?”

“ I think, but who cares, I’ll just do it again… Well, your beautifulness, might I walk you home?” you bowed as she laughed and you began to walk toward the richest quartier of New Orleans. You gossiped with Alice about what happened during this school’s week. She was so sure John was interested in pursuing a relationship with you. You rolled your eyes at her, she always liked love’s story.

You did too, you weren’t going to lie, but when you thought about your future with a husband… You thought about–

“ Well, here we are! Are you sure you don’t want to stay here, I made cupcakes this morning!” she exclaimed with a big grin. You smiled at her, saying you really needed to go home.

You waved her goodbye and walked home. You tried to make your way home quickly, if you were lucky, a letter from your father would be waiting for you at home. You had prayed each day that once the stupid war was over, he would come back alive. You opened your house’s door and went inside, hurrying toward the living room. Did your father sended you a letter ?

“ Look who’s here~”

You turned around with a big smile, feeling your heart thumb loudly in your chest. How could he make you react like this everytime?

“ Alastor !” You hugged him before kissing him on both cheeks. Alastor had stopped flinching when you were touching him, even more surprising , he was very clingy with you. Always being in your personal space like he owned it.

“ Seems like someone drank hot chocolate but didn't bother wiping her mouth.” he wiped your bottom lips with his gloved hand. You flushed as he stared at your mouth, keeping his finger on your lips. You could see your own reflection in his glasses. Unlike before, you couldn’t read Alastor as easily as when he was a child, unless you were alone together and mister decided to be “vulnerable” with you. But you… You always felt safe and most of all, you felt seen.

Alastor always had a glint in his eyes when he was looking at you. You’ve never seen him look at something or someone else like this… And you liked it. Was it selfish to crave his attention… maybe not. You both were friends, special friends, childhood friends… But, Oh Lord, sometimes you craved more, but you didn’t know what. If Alastor was looking at you like this as a friend, how would he look at his future wife?

“ Oh my dear, you look starving.”

You gasped as you took a step back while Alastor was smirking at you, his arms folded behind his back. You stuck your tongue to him, like you used to, you were maybe a young lady now, but with Alastor you were… yourself.

“ Young lady ! Didn’t I tell you to stop sticking your tongue ! I’m sorry, Alastor.” said your Mother while Marie, who was just behind her, was laughing behind her hand. “ Good Lord, when you both are together you are back to being children, God preserve me.” she sighed as she went into the kitchen.

“ Yes, listen to your Mother. Keep your tongue inside your pretty mouth.” teased Alastor as he sat on the sofa with his usual mocking smile. “ Now my dear, do you have news to share with me?”

You sat on the other side of the sofa and began to gossip as you usually did. There weren’t any microphones or notes like when you were children, but it was the same as your broadcast like you used to do in his bedroom. Just you and Alastor, gossiping about your daily life.

“ And then Alice said that John was interested in me but I think he just–”

“ Should I be alarmed ? It’s not the first time I heard this name ?” teased Alastor as he took off his glasses to clean them with a tissue from his chest pocket.

“ Which one? Alice? She wants to meet you…” you mumbled and tensed when you saw Alastor’s smile.

“ Well, why didn't you say so! I would be delighted to meet the darling that blesses my sweet little friend with her presence when I’m not here!” he exclaimed as he stood up. You jumped off the sofa as you forced him to sit back down.

“ No Alastor !”

“ Oh come on my dear, do you want to keep me all to yourself ? How bold.” he smiled as he watched you struggle to keep him sitting. You groaned and decided to just sit on his lap to keep him from standing up. So there you were on your knees on each side of his thighs. You heard him inhale deeply, his hand gripping the sofa. Don’t blushed, don’t blushed, don’t blushed…

“ How bold, indeed, dear…” he stared at you, without his glasses. There it was. That glint. The one who made you… Feeling strange. You didn’t know if you were scared or…or what? There was something lingering in the air... He opened his mouth but you cut him off.

“ What do you want for your birthday ?”

His body tensed for a second, staring straight at you before he relaxed himself and laughed, tilting his head backward. He shook his head as he rolled his eyes.

“ Well, just like always. Celebrating with you and Mother. What could I ask for more?” he smiled at you but as you tried to stand up from his thighs, he grabbed your waist and pulled you near his face. “ Should we invite John?”

“ Who–? Wait, John? Why?” you frowned as you looked at his smile which seemed tense. He was grabbing your waist tighter now. His grip should hurt you but.. it was oddly comfortable. Why did he suddenly change–?

“ Wait… Are you jealous?” you smiled as you saw his smile twitched. “ Yes, yes, you are. Haha !” you laughed hoping you sounded mocking, but even to your ears, you almost sounded pleased, relieved. You squeaked as he pinned you to the sofa and began to tickle you. You squirmed as your laughter was getting louder and louder, gasping for air.

“ Do you remember the rules, dear?” he asked with a cunning smile, knowing perfectly that you couldn’t answer right now. “ Rule number one: Never drop your guard.” he stopped tickling you “ Go on dear. Rule number two?” he tilted his head toward you, staring at your red and teary face.

“ You are the strongest here.” you gasped as you tried to wipe your tears that threatened to stream down your face but Alastor holded both of your wrist in one hand.

“ Rule number three.”

“ I give up…” you breathed as you closed your eyes. You felt his head next to yours, his lips almost touching your ears.

“ Give up yourself to me.”

Your eyes opened suddenly, feeling your body being hot. You looked at Alastor who was above you but he seemed confused. He tilted his head as he watched your expression.

“ Are you okay, you look almost as red as Eamon ?” he laughed at you as he stood up, putting his glasses back on.

“ What did you just say?” you asked, your voice a mere whisper.

“... You look almost as red as Eamon?” you shook your head as you sat up and stared at him. He seemed really confused, did you imagine this? Is it what you wanted to hear? You groaned as you hid your face in your head, it was because of Alice’s stories, your mind was playing tricks on you now! “ By the way dear, it seems like you have a letter.” he said as he held a letter to you. It was from your father !

You took the letter from his hand with a happy grin, the letter was already open, surely your mother, and read what your father wanted you to know. He was okay, he missed you but mostly there were rumors about how the war will be soon over. you sighed in relief. Your father would come home. You just knew it. You looked at Alastor who was observing your face.

“ You still have no news from your father?”

“ No, I wouldn’t be surprised if he had been killed for insubordination.” he said with detachment as he looked at his nails. You nodded before turning your head toward the entrance where you heard a knock. You stood up and went to open the door and froze.

“ Alice ?”

“ I’ll be quick, you forgot your bag at the coffee shop.” she smiled as she held your bag toward you.

“ How… But… You went back to the coffee shop?”

“No, no, a gentleman came to my door and asked if the bag was mine.”

“ Alice… A man came to your door with my bag and you are not worried ? How did he know where you lived ? Does that mean he followed us?” you forced her to enter your house, looking outside “ What does he look like?” You squealed as you were jerked inside the house by your dress. You turned to see Alastor who was staring at you, with a pissed expression, his smile still present.

“ Are you dumb? If there is a man who is following you, why would you show your face, confirming that you are living here.” he asked you coldly. You closed the door quickly.

“ The man isn’t here for me, if he is here. He didn’t follow me, he followed her.” you pointed to Alice. “ You can understand that, I mean, look at her.”

You watched as Alastor looked at Alice. You couldn’t see his face but you saw Alice’s who seemed to try to make herself even smaller than she was. He shook her hand with his usual charming smile you guessed.

“ Quite a pleasure to be meeting you, I’ve heard a lot of you. You seemed like a clever woman, I would have never guessed that you would walk down the street with a soon to be stalker at your feet, bringing this man to my dear friend’s door!”

“ N-nice to be meeting you, sir. I’m.. I’m sorry..?” Alice stared at you, begging you with her eyes to do something. You sighed, you have told her Alastor was intense.

“ No, no, No need to be sorry. It is not your fault, but the gentleman’s one. You both shouldn’t stay outside alone.”

“ Alastor, maybe we are overthinking. Maybe he was a nice gentleman–”

“ Oh my friend, hush.” he turned to Alice “ What did he look like?”

You watched as Alice described the man’s appearance. You were dumbfounded. Did Alastor just shush you? You crossed your arms on your chest as you pouted, watching both of your friends talking. They looked good together… You bit your lips. No. Alice wouldn’t be able to stay an entire day with Alastor. You stomped your foot on the floor and you clapped your hand together.

“ Well, dear friends of mine, go into the living room, I'll go with some drinks.”

“ No, no, I won’t bother you any longer. I’m going home.”

“ I’ll accompany you.Stay here.”

You stared in shock as Alastor went into the kitchen where your mothers were. Did he just say what you thought he said? Alice came closer to you and winked at you.

“ He seems like a good man, keep it up.”

Alastor came back with his jacket on, he opened the door for Alice and left without kissing you goodbye. You stared at the closed door. Did Alastor fall for Alice, like every boy she met? You ran to your room, and jumped on your bed, burying your face in your pillow. Did he really leave, leaving his mother? you threw your pillow on the wall.

“ To hell with him ! I don’t need him.” you said as you wiped the tears that you haven’t even felt falling down your cheeks. You went to the bathroom, ignoring your mother and Marie’s question about your teary eyes. You washed up, put on a nightgown and went into your bed. You stared at the wall before closing your eyes. You couldn’t fall asleep, you were imaginiting Alice and Alastor walking down the road, hands in hands. You felt tears whelming up in your eyes. You didn’t care! You didn’t!

You didn’t know how long you kept thinking about it but you were still awake when you felt a hand stroking your cheeks. You sighed , nuzzling your cheek against the hand. You guessed your mother was coming to comfort you even though she didn’t know why you were upset.

“ Dear friend, why are you crying?”

You sat up immediately and stared at the person in front of you.

“ Alastor…Why are you here?” you asked as you held the cover against you. You didn’t want him to see you like this. Crying over him. You were too proud. And you weren’t crying for him!

“ Well, I came to give you your kiss, dummy.” he approached his face toward you, staring at your eyes. “ But why are you crying? Is it because of the man?” his eyes went cold, his smile widened but there was no warmth like usual. He seemed.. menacing. “ Did he come here? Did he touch you? Where?”

You just stared at him as tears were falling down your cheeks. It seemed like seeing you cry made him more and more upset.

“ This bastard was here? I fucking walked your little friend home so I could see if someone was lingering around here and that bastard had the nerve to come and–”

You didn’t know what came over you, you covered his face with your blanket and you kissed the place where the blanket covered his lips. He froze. You pressed your lips against the tissue and then slowly, stepped back. You stared at him, his face still covered…

“ No.. I was just… afraid that you would leave me for Alice.” you whispered looking at his frame. Seeing that he didn’t remove the blanket, you understood that… he knew that both of you would not be talking about what is happening right now. “ She is a beautiful lady, and she is interesting, sweet… a perfect lady you would say.”

“ Don’t put words in my mouth dear.” You chuckled as he moved his hand toward your cheek, wiping your tears away. “ So, you thought she was going to take me away from you? How absurd. Nothing could tear me away from you, not even yourself.”

You stopped breathing at this confession, your heart beating even stronger. You didn’t know what to do with all of your feelings. You were just so relieved that Alastor saw your friendship like you did.

“ Can I take off your blanket now?”

You laughed and uncovered his face, his warm smile was back, his glint in his eyes even more present. You looked away, fidgeting with your nightgown. You needed to erase the tension quickly.

“ You look like an absolute mess my dear friend! I’ll let you rest and please, do get your beauty sleep unless you want to crack every mirror you shall see.” he laughed as you tried to hit him with a pillow. He kissed you on the forehead, giggling before leaving your bedroom. “ See you soon, doll~!”

You fell on your bed with a big smile and hid your face into your pillow.

You didn’t know what happened but it made your feel better.

Tag List: lukneetoonz @martinys-world @littlepoetnova @sirens-and-moonflowers @eris-norwega @tiredflame132 @mo-0-o @vvollerie

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pepsiboyy · 2 days

Text

HEARTBEAT - part one

pairing: chris sturniolo x fem!reader summary: after moving to massachusetts from florida, y/n lives with her half brother, nathan doe, who is part of a small garage band. their sassy guitarist, chris sturniolo, can't help but get on her nerves. but there's something about him. warnings: use of y/n lol, mentions of drug abuse, cursing, angst a/n: NEW SERIES ugh i hope you guys LOVE IT SO HARD i have been wanting to start this one for so long i would be in class brainstorming it AND NOW IM DONE WITH IN-PERSON SCHOOL so yayy i hope you guys love it!!!!! sincerely, apollo <3

"are you even listening?"

my eyes ripped from the window to my right.

"yeah, sorry." i mumbled.

massachusetts was so different from florida. it was so much cooler, and why is everything so close together?

i turned to my father, who i swear i only truly knew as a facebook post on my phone screen.

"i think your mom is gonna be so happy to hear that you-"

"she won't care." i chuckled softly as i took a deep breath and sighed, shrugging. "it's okay though. i'm trying to move past that."

as much as i loved my mother, i knew she was bad for me.

my mom was a major drug addict. i fearfully called the cops and child protective services upon finding her in a mental state i had never seen her in. after investigation and lots of court shit i didn't want to think about, i was sent to my father's. i never knew him personally. it was never anything toxic, we talked on social media. but he left shortly after i was born and had a son with a new woman.

my half brother, nathan doe, sat beside me scrolling on his phone.

i had never really spoken to him. he seemed like somebody i might get along with, but i had yet to interact with him.

i guess we would see how it goes.

terrible. it goes terrible. i sat in their guest bedroom for about fourty-five minutes, digging through all of my belongings to find my phone charger. i definitely forgot it.

with a deep sigh, i ran my fingers through my hair and stood to my feet quickly and made my way down the stairs and to the kitchen, where everyone was sitting. i blinked a few times.

"uhh.. hey?" i chuckled awkwardly, biting my lip before burying my hands into my hoodie's pockets. "so um.. i'm gonna run to that gas station we passed on the way here, i'll just walk, i need the fresh air." i breathed.

everyone seemed to exchange looks before they nodded and my dad stood up. "call me if you need anything."

i simply nodded and waved at everyone before heading out the door with a soft sigh, unknowingly slamming the door behind me.

the boston breeze really began to sting about halfway through the walk, even if it were only about three minutes i had really been walking. my headphones hugged my head and played loudly, blasting some of my favorite songs that i had on a playlist to calm down.

there was no reason i should have been so angry, but i think it's just the new environment truly getting to me.

i pulled open the door to the gas station and removed my hood, looking around. my eyes turned to the boy working at the counter, whose eyes were glued to his phone. i turned to look for a charger for my own phone, biting my lip in focus and frowning at the prices. "so expensive.. this is unfair." i scoffed to myself.

after grabbing the two boxes, one being a brick and the other being the cord, i let out a frustrated sigh and set them on the counter, a little harsher than i had anticipated to.

"woah there, i'm sensing some aggression. boyfriend start an argument or what?"

i turned to the boy working, my eyes wide. "excuse me?" i stared at him for a brief moment before scoffing and shaking my head. "none of your business, can you just ring me up please?" i stated firmly, getting out my card and inserting it into the reader.

after pressing a few buttons on the screen on his side, he threw his hands up in defense. "relax sweetheart, i'm just yanking your chain."

"what-?" i stared at him with an expression of disgust, pulling my card out and shoving it into my wallet angrily. i looked at his nametag and squinted slightly.

the boy set the two boxes into a bag and handed them to me, where i gripped the bag and stared at him. "i'm not your sweetheart, chris." i emphasized, quickly leaving and not turning around at the sound of him laughing to himself.

the knock at my door caused me to jump slightly, and i quickly sat up to make my way towards the sound. "what's up?"

i blinked when i saw nate looking at me, the hat on his head backwards and his sleeveless shirt loose on him.

"hey, so.." he blinked a few times as he looked away then back at me. "sorry, i know we haven't spoken much. but um. i'm part of a little band?" he mumbled, and i nodded and leaned against the doorframe as i listened closely. "i figured i should let you know, tuesdays and thursdays we play in the garage, we usually stop at about ten o'clock though, so.." he trailed off.

i looked at him and furrowed my eyebrows before looking at my phone, shrugging softly before setting it back in my pocket. i'm already forgetting the days of the week. couldn't have told anybody today was tuesday.

"that's okay with you, right?"

"yeah, of course. do your thing, man." i smiled reassuringly, and nate's entire expression visibly lit up a bit.

"'preciate it a lot, y/n. you're welcome to sit in and watch if you're interested."

i quickly shook my head and waved a hand. "no no, it's okay. i have some things to do anyway."

nate nodded and waved before he turned and headed down the stairs.

i shut the door and made my way back to my bed, yawning softly. nate seemed very sweet. i don't doubt we will get along in any way, i'm just awkward. and it seems like he is a bit too. pretty sure our dad is, too.

i sighed as i curled up in bed, watching youtube.

11:12pm. it was an hour and twelve minutes past the given time, and all i could hear was sound. just sound. below me.

i was growing frustrated with each second that went by.

fed up, i stood to my feet and stomped out of my room and down the stairs, allowing my arms to hug myself. i was wearing shorts and a baggy tee. the sound grew louder with each step that i took.

i swung open the garage door and looked at nate, slamming the drums, an unfamiliar figure strumming the bass, and-

"hey, y/n," nate stated as he stopped his movements and gave me a toothy smile.

i swear my face went pale.

"this is ben, and this is chris-"

"your name's y/n?" chris stated, his expression equally as shocked as he lowered his arms from his deep red guitar.

#sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo x reader #chris x reader #matthew sturniolo #nathan doe #nate doe

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obsessedwithceleste · 2 days

Text

Daisy Chains and Kept Promises

George Weasley x reader

Based on this request🫶🏽

Summary: George Weasley was never one to break a promise. Especially not one sealed by a daisy chain ring.

word count: 3.2k

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

It was the first sunny afternoon in what seemed like forever, but in reality had only been a few days, and the residents of the burrow were eager to escape onto the vibrant, green lawn.

“Fred, George you stay out of trouble now!” Molly shouted from the kitchen as you run out the door with the twins.

“Come on now, it’s our last summer before they ship us off to Hogwarts! We gotta make the most of it!” Fred replies, sprinting out to the shed where the Weasleys stored all their brooms.

“Hurry up Georgie, or I’m taking the good broom!” You tease as you race past the other boy, snatching the best broom from the rack before he has the chance to protest.

“Aw c’mon! Why’s she always get the good one?” Ron complains as he catches up with you all.

“Oh shut it Ronald,” George retorts, not bothering to give his youngest brother a second glance.

The four of you spend the afternoon zooming across the field, a beat up quaffle tossed between you in carefree bliss as the sun shines down on you and Ginny watches from the ground below.

Eventually you all tire and you find yourself lying in the shade of the old oak tree that loomed over the garden. Thankfully the rain had scared off the gnomes that had a habit of sneaking into the garden for a tasty treat.

“Show me how to make those daisy crowns? Like the muggles?” Ginny asks, bringing over fists full of the little white flowers.

“Not now Ginny,” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes at the young girl.

“No, no, we can do it now,” you argue, patting the ground next to you, gesturing for the younger girl to sit beside you.

“Yeah, let her stay,” George agrees, smiling fondly at you.

Fred snorts at his brother, eyes rolling once more.

“You always side with her, you’re supposed to be my twin! How are you two going to survive without each other?” Fred retorts, leaning back against the tree.

“It’ll only be a year, then y/n can join us in the fun,” George replies happily.

“Oh at this point you might as well just marry her,” Fred responds with a huff.

You feel your cheeks begin to grow red and you turn to focus all your attention on the young girl beside you, showing her how to intricately wrap the stems together to form a chain of daisies.

You’d known the twins for as long as you could remember. You’d practically grown up with them. Your father Remus did the best he could raising you on his own, he really did, but it was hard. Especially on full moons. The Weasleys always took you in on those nights, often resulting in you staying for days while Remus recovered.

George had had a soft spot for you since the beginning, always being the slightly softer twin while Fred was more severe and brash. You could remember a particularly bad night when it had been storming, the loud thunder making you shake with fear. George had stayed up with you all night, making sure the storm didn’t get you. You had been seven at the time.

It had started back then you supposed, your little crush. It had confused you at first as you had thought of all the boys as your brothers, but now, at the ripe old age of ten, you could tell that Georgie was different from the other Weasley boys.

“There!” George announces excitedly, shaking you from your thoughts as he brandishes a single daisy up into the air, its stem tied rather roughly in a small circle.

Without warning, he grasps onto your hand, sliding the makeshift ring onto your finger, looking rather pleased with himself.

“There. You’re my wife now,” he says proudly as you stare at the little flower adorning your finger.

“You didn’t do it right! You have to ask her to be your wife. Everyone knows that!” Ginny exclaims, watching the two of you with a dopey little grin on her face.

“Oh. Right. Y/n, will you be my wife?” Georgie asks, batting his eyes dramatically at you and sticking out his bottom lip.

“Yes I will,” you reply with a laugh, admiring the pretty daisy that now sat on your finger.

“You two are so gross,” Fred says, making a face.

“Oh, oh! Do the promises! The ones where you say I do!” Ginny urges excitedly, clapping her hands.

“Alright. Do you promise to always laugh at my jokes, always be there for me when I need you, and always take my side when we argue with Fred?” George asks.

Fred begins to make dramatic gagging sounds.

“I do.” You reply with a giggle as Fred just glares at you. “And do you promise to always make me smile, always protect me, and always make me hot chocolate when I can’t sleep?”

“I do.”

It was dark. The whole house was dark really. All the time. Dimly lit and constantly smelling like mold and rotting wood. And the furniture seemed to be permanently damp, the coldness settling into your bones.

You hated it here at Grimmauld Place. The constant shrieking of decrepit, old portraits, the eerie feeling of constantly being watched. The only positive attribute about living in this wretched place was the fact that Remus had never been happier.

It had taken months to do it, but after Harry had been able to help Sirius escape the dementors, Dumbledore had inconspicuously been able to move Sirius into Grimmauld place where you had been staying ever since.

It had been strange at first, no doubt. You had only just met the man, but he grew on you quickly. Like a fungus. You loved seeing how comfortable he made Remus who visibly softened whenever the other man was near. And you hadn’t seen Remus smile as wide or as often, well ever. You could tell that the two of them were just meant to be side by side, and honestly, that was enough for you. Especially in dark times like these.

“Lighten up love, we have a surprise for you before dinner,” Remus announces, entering the drawing room where you sat wrapped in a pile of blankets, a book in hand as you tried to ignore the screeching bag lady in entry way portrait.

“Is it another one of those horrendous sweaters that Sirius keeps digging up from somewhere?” You ask, nose scrunching at the thought of another one of the putrid smelling things being presented to you. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you detested the nasty things, so you had been giving them to Kreacher to dispose of rapidly. “I know I keep telling him that they’re lovely, but how many of the things does he think I need?”

Remus just laughs, shaking his head. “I’ve told him to move onto something else, but he’s determined to fill your wardrobe I think. But no. It’s not another sweater. For now at least. No, I do believe you’ll quite enjoy this little surprise.” He tells you before leaving you to your book and your thoughts.

Dinner time couldn't come fast enough as you eagerly eyed the clock every fifteen minutes, only to be disappointed by how little time had gone by.

About thirty minutes before the three of you usually ate dinner, you began hearing a chorus of voices coming from the entry way. And not the familiar voices of the Black family portraits.

"Well where is she then?" a loud voice asks.

Hearing the voice, you immediately perk up, not quite believing you'd heard correctly. This place might be driving you mad.

"Oh bloody hell mate, don't seem too eager now," comes the sarcastic response.

You'd know those voices anywhere. Practically throwing yourself from the couch, you eagerly scramble to the door and down the staircase to be greeted by the whole Weasley family grinning up at you.

"Look Georgie, there's your wife, don't get your knickers in a twist now," Fred scoffs.

You fly into George's arms, sighing contentedly as his arms wrap securely around you.

"Well hello to you too," you hear him laugh as he gives you another squeeze before releasing you.

You hadn't seen him, or the other Weasley's for that matter, in what felt like ages. He and Fred had grown their hair out, and you didn't quite remember them being so tall last you saw them. His smile never changed though.

Bashfully, you greet the rest of the Weasley bunch, even Fred giving you a quick hug, before rubbing the top of your head affectionately and effectively tossling up your hair. You stick your tongue out at the boy in response, batting his hand away.

"I missed you all, so much! I've been going absolutely bonkers being here alone for so long," you tell them.

"Well not to worry love, we'll be here all summer. Hermione too, though she's not coming for another few weeks." George tells you.

Feeling eyes on you as you laugh with the boys, turning to see both Sirius and Remus gazing at you intently, eyes flickering between you and George.

Sirius silently points at you, then George before drawing a line across his neck with his finger before giving you a wink. You feel heat creeping into your cheeks as you turn back to the boys.

"What are you all doing here?" you ask eventually as the adults begin to file into the kitchen.

"Came to be used as house elves of course," Fred replies, earning him a nudge from George.

"Mum said that Sirius volunteered the house to be headquarters for the Order," Ron butts in.

"Yeah, then mum volunteered us to help clean the place up," Ginny adds.

You make a face at that.

"We have a lot of work to do then, this place is disgusting," you tell them, leading them up the stairs to the room you'd been staying in. On your way up the stairs, George's hand never leaves yours, fingers intertwined as you guide him up the dusty staircase.

"Long as there aren't any spiders," Ron replies, eyeing the spiraling stairs with suspicion.

You just look back at the boy with concern, pity overtaking your face as his own face turns pale.

For once Grimmauld place was silent. A rare luxury you'd found, especially since the Weasley's had moved in. Not that you minded, the red headed family made the grim, old place feel alive and vibrant. Something you thought the it needed desperately. But you liked the quiet too.

It had been a strange couple of weeks as everyone, the adults especially, seemed to be on high alert. And who could blame them? Hermione had just moved in, sharing a room with you and Ginny. You could hear their breathing now as you stared up at the dark ceiling above.

After the Weasley's arrival, you had all spent countless hours decluttering Grimmauld place. Sweeping, dusting, banishing the more mouthy portraits to the attic. It was hard work, but you had loved every second of it with George making you laugh until you keeled over, tears streaming down your face. His presence just made everything better. You thought so at least.

In the darkened room, your mind drifts to the conversation you had heard between the adults just hours ago. It definitely wasn't a conversation you had been meant to overhear, but Georgie had given you a pair of extendable ears that he and Fred had developed, and you just couldn't help yourself.

"Oh really Sirius, they've all practically grown up together, George would never do anything to hurt her," Molly had said.

At the mention of George's name, you just had to find out what they were talking about.

"We never said he was going to do anything malicious, we just don't want to see her get hurt," Remus replied with a heavy sigh.

Her?

"They're practically adults, you can't protect her forever. So what if they fancy each other? They're not children!" Molly retorts.

"Oh that's rich coming from you. Just the other day you were going on about young witches and wizards rushing into marriage during the first war. And how many times have you told the twins that they're forbidden from joining the Order hmm? They're adults, Molly, you can't protect them forever," Sirius responds.

"Oh but at least I've done all I can to protect them up to this point. What have you done for y/n? Nothing. Because you've been locked up!" Molly spits. You can hear the fury in her voice.

Your fists ball up in rage at her comments. None of it was Sirius's fault. He didn't do anything wrong. How dare she?

"That's enough!" you hear Remus cut in, a sharpness in his voice that you hadn't heard before. "We weren't coming to attack George, or the way you raised any of the children. We were simply raising our concerns, as any good parents would. Now that we've made our point, if you don't wish to interfere, fine. We won't either."

After that the only thing you had heard was the shuffling of feet as they abandoned the dining room. They had most definitely been talking about you. No doubt about it. You hadn't realized they were concerned about you. They never said anything. And it was only Georgie. The two of you had been married for six years now. In all the ways that mattered to you at least. He would never hurt you. In fact, he'd made it a promise.

Mind racing and unable to sleep, you slip out of bed, careful not to make a sound as you slowly creep to the drawing room that you so often took refuge in. To your surprise however, a dim light was already flickering inside when you approached, and a familiar head of red hair sat facing away from you on the sofa.

"Georgie?" You whisper cautiously, not wanting to spook him.

His head turns in surprise, but his face lights up when he sees you.

"What are you doing this up this late, love?" he asks.

"I could ask you the same."

"Fair enough. Just a lot on my mind I suppose."

"Me too," you reply.

A silence falls between the two of you as you stand, watching mesmerized as the light flickers on and off of the boy's handsome face.

"Want me to make you a hot chocolate?" George asks finally.

A smile grows on your face and you instantly perk up at the mention of your favorite treat. George always knew how to put you to sleep, and he always made the best hot chocolate. Nodding enthusiastically, the two of you make your way down to the kitchen where George begins gathering supplies.

One thing you'd always admired about him was that he never minded doing things the muggle way. While Fred was always quick to magic his way through things, George was content taking his time.

"Help stir the milk so it doesn't burn?" he asks, gesturing to the pot now on the stove.

You silently take the wooden spoon from his hand, fingers brushing ever so slightly, before focusing on the task at hand. George sets out two mugs on the counter before helping you melt in the chocolate.

It all felt terribly domestic. As if there wasn't a sociopathic murderer on the loose. Like it was just the two of you.

It isn't long before George is pouring the dark liquid into the mugs, sprinkling in a few little marshmallows and a cinnamon stick or two and the both of you are retreating back up to the drawing room.

The first sip sends shivers of satisfaction down your spine as you lean into George who wraps his free arm around you. You pull a blanket over you and revel for a moment in the comfort.

"Care to share what's been on your mind?" George asks, breaking the silence.

"Only if you go first," you reply, not quite sure how to explain that he was really the only thing on your mind these days.

George just sighs. "It's nothing you we haven't told you before," He tells you. "Mum is just fighting for her life to keep Freddie and I out of the Order, but Moody agrees with us. We're of age. There's nothing she can do to stop us."

"Will you be safe?"

"Safe as can be. Mum has made sure they don't give us any real missions. Just patrolling Diagon Alley since that's where we set up shop."

You simply nod your head, letting it fall against the boy's chest as you feel his even breathing and let it overtake you. You'd never admit it out loud, but you were grateful for Molly to an extent. The twins had an abysmal lack of self preservation skills, and you didn't know what you would do if you lost Georgie.

"And what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You feel your shoulders shrug as you think carefully of what to say.

"I overheard our parents talking today," you mumble, not exactly sure where you were taking this.

"Oh?"

"Dads are worried about us," you tell him, hiding your face in his chest.

"Worried?"

"I dunno. They said something about your mum talking about how a lot of wizards and witches rushed into marriage during the first war, and there was a lot of talk about you being of age and what not. It got intense. There was a lot of yelling."

You feel George's chest rumble with soft laughter at your words.

"Well that's a silly thing to be worried about considering we've been married for years now at this point," he says.

You're not sure if he's joking or not. Maybe the exhaustion was finally getting to you.

"I'm being serious Georgie. I didn't know they were so worried about me. And Sirius sounded so upset," you reply, sitting up to take another long sip of your hot chocolate.

"So am I." he responds, looking you dead in the eye. The usual mischievous gleam is gone this time and you know he's never been more serious about something. "You know I'm not one to break a promise."

The air grows heavy as you feel yourself freeze for a moment at his words before you sink back into his warm embrace.

"I still have it you know. Your ring. Your mum charmed it for me so it wouldn't wilt. She knew all along," you tell him.

"She tends to have a sixth sense when it comes to these kinds of things."

Another silence falls between the two, but this time, the silence brings comfort as you feel your eyes growing heavy. George tries to stifle a yawn, but it escapes anyway. It was later then you had realized.

"I'm glad it's real for you too," you murmur, leaning further into the boy as your eyes flutter close. Something about being in George's arms provided a sense of security you couldn't find anywhere else.

"It was always real. I'd never break a promise to you, love."

bby's first non-slytherin boy fic🫣

don't ask me if I edited this- the answer is no and I don't want to talk abt it💀

tag list: @sol-lupin-black @breeistired

#harrypotter fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #fred weasley #harry potter universe #gryffindor #golden era #george weasley fanfic #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley imagines #gryffindor boys #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius

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heavenlyraindrops · 2 days

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♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twelve ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twelve Warnings: profanity Click on the first tag to see all the other chapters

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Twelve]

You set your phone down on the counter as someone pounded hard on your front door. You flinched, immediately recognising the knocks.

You opened it, standing in the doorway and blocking the entrance before smiling thinly. “Adam. Lute. To what do I owe this displeasure?”

Adam arched an eyebrow. “Well someone’s gotten cocky,” he sneered, trying to brush past you. You put your foot in the way, making him stop and whirl around.

“The fuck’s your problem?” Lute snapped, storming forward. “Let us in.”

“Back off. You’re not coming inside until you tell me what you want.” You put your hand on her chest, pushing her back. She blanched, and looked at Adam helplessly.

Adam’s expression darkened as he leaned in to whisper. “Are you forgetting what I know?”

You bunched up his collar in your fist, dragging him in even closer. “There’s still one month left before I decide. You tell, I fall, and you’ll never fucking marry me.” You released him and he stumbled back a little, face hard, but you could tell you had frazzled him as you stood aside to let them in.

“Go in, then,” you said flatly. They both flashed triumphant smiles at you.

“Where’re the hellspawn?”

“Why?”

“We just wanna talk to them,” Adam said, smiling innocently as if he hadn’t been threatening you five seconds ago. His lips moved, mouthing more threats as if he had no shame in blackmailing someone.

“Upstairs,” you said reluctantly, then jabbed a finger in his direction. “And if you lay a hand on them…”

“Pinky promise,” came the reply, thrown over his shoulder as he sauntered up the stairs. Lute glanced back at you, her frown deepening.

You sat down at the kitchen counter, an internal debate raging within you. A letter lay on your right, next to your elbow. You wondered if you should have asked Charlie to deliver it to Lucifer for you, or not.

You sighed, shutting it away in a drawer.

♱♱♱

It had been hours since Charlie and Vaggie had left, shortly after Lute and Adam had stormed out. You’d waved them off, wishing them good luck. As you shook Charlie’s hand, your hand clamped around hers, pulling her in to whisper.

“Between you and me, love,” you muttered. “You’re more than just right in this.” You hesitated. “Tell Lu…” you mumbled the rest of the sentence, trailing off into a volume barely audible as you chickened out. She blinked at you, befuddled, before her lips stretched into another smile as she pulled you into a hug.

“Thank’s, [name],” she said. Vaggie nodded approvingly from behind her, before they both turned around and left.

You watched them fade into the distance, before stumbling back inside. You took the letter out of the drawer and crumpled it up, throwing it in the bin. You felt like you were about to throw up.

“Fuck,” you gasped.

♱♱♱

“Emily? How was the trial?”

You blinked down at the seraph, who gazed up at you solemnly. You could tell there were angry tears behind her eyes, threatening to spill out. “Tell me you didn’t know,” she said, voice trembling. You took her hand, pulling her inside and setting her at the couch.

“Didn’t know what?” You asked, gently and cautiously. At the same time, the door swung open again, and Adam barged in.

“Sugar tits, we fuckin’ won,” he cackled, grabbing your wrist. “I kicked those cunts back downstairs where they belong-“ he paused, eyes sliding over to Emily.

You gulped.

Emily stood up, hands bunched up into fists. “You did, didn’t you,” she hissed. You let out a small breath.

“Emily, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“She’s talking about the exterminations,” Adam rolled his eyes, slinging an arm around your shoulder with a hand on his hip as he stared Emily down. You stiffened, looking at him as if to say ‘what the hell did you do?’ But refrained yourself from saying anything aloud.

She blanched at the look on your face. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?” She stretched her arms out wide, and her wings stretched with her. Your heart sank.

“No one is supposed to know about the exterminations except for the exorcists,” you said calmly as you could, despite a slight shake in your voice as you straightened up and pulled your shoulders back.

“You know, and you’re not an exorcist,” she retorted, eyes accusing. You stepped back.

“[name]’s special,” Adam sneered, looking at you. You couldn’t meet his stare.

“It’s for the greater good. Are you really questioning Sera’s judgment?”

Emily’s shoulders sank. “You don’t believe that,” she said, as if she was trying to convince herself instead of simply making a statement. You gulped.

Did you agree with the exterminations? You had never really thought about it. But if they hadn’t existed you never would have met-

“Emily, I don’t like them either,” you said, leaning forward and gripping her shoulders, desperation oozing from your like an aura. “But Heaven needs to keep the pure- the good souls, safe from the bad.” You felt a stab at your heart even as you said it, because saying those words made you feel like you were betraying Charlie and Vaggie, but you pressed on. “Emily, no one enjoys the exterminations.”

Adam scoffed from behind you, stalking forward and yanking you back. “Oh please, sugar tits.” He looked hard at Emily. “The exorcists love the extermination. It’s the perfect form of entertainment!” His eyes and grin widened, and you flinched away as his gaze snapped back to you again. “And don’t pretend like you’re against them, sugar. You wouldn’t have met your demon boyfriend if it weren’t for them.” His tone was lined with hurt, as if getting with Lucifer was the biggest betrayal you could have done to him.

And, you realized, in a way, it was.

“What?” Emily said, wondering if she had heard him right. You could feel your face heat up, your golden blood turning to fire in your veins.

“I said,” Adam clarified, “if it wasn’t for the exterminations, she’d be bored as fuck here.” Emily frowned, but you could tell she believed him. “What’d you think I said?” He didn’t wait for an answer, turning back to you. “Don’t act like you threw yourself at the chance to come along with us down to Hell.”

You chewed your lip furiously, mind racing. “Don’t you dare throw me under the bus.”

“Why fuckin’ shouldn’t I?” He hissed, eyes glittering darkly. You could sense the meaning underneath, cutting you like a double edged sword.

“You know what?” You said, flatly. “You’re just pissy that your dick is so fucking tiny, Like- opposite the size of your fatass ego, which is so big it’s fucking obese, by the way- that you lost three women to a guy who lives in a dimensional oven.” You jabbed your finger at him. “I’d rather date the Devil himself than a fucking cunt like you,” you scoffed. “At least he’d last more than thirty seconds.”

Emily stared at you blankly, amazed, not ever having heard you swear so much, and also by your blatant blasphemy. You pulled back, smoothing down your shirt, satisfied at Adam’s shocked expression. You glanced at her.

“I wouldn't actually,” you reassured her, lying straight through your teeth.

♱♱♱

A/N: first of my double chapter release. Two chapters in one day isn’t that crazy?!.?, turns out my 400th follower was my friend stalking me… they read all my smut. I’m cooked 😁 Coco if ur reading this… get off my blog rn

I’m giving up on the taglist cause it don’t work anymore sorry guys 😔

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dreamcubed · 1 day

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...ready for it? | mattheo riddle x reader

song; ...ready for it? [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo riddle x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; fake dating, s2l, fluff, smut word count; 5,3k timeline; subsidiary 8th year warnings; swearing, references to alcohol/drugs/smoking, violence, blood and injury, piv sex, unprotected sex, fingering, discrimination (of muggle-borns) summary; following the war, mattheo is suffocated by the association with his father, and decides there is only one way to make people see that he is nothing like him. you, on the other hand, want to prove to people that, in the year you've been in hiding, you have changed from the naïve goody-two-shoes you once were

screaming crying throwing up at how good tortured poets department is

masterlist

"in the middle of the night, in my dreams, you should see the things we do."

————————————————

The rumours followed Mattheo Riddle like hitmen— praying for his downfall, never leaving him alone, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. To many, it was obvious what he was before even meeting him. Evidently, the son of the Dark Lord was every bit as bad as his father, would fill his shoes now that he was dead, that there would be a Third Wizarding War with Mattheo at the very centre of it. Never mind that he hardly knew his father, that Voldemort had been gone for almost his entire childhood.

After the final demise of the Dark Lord, and Mattheo had elected to return to Hogwarts for the subsidiary eighth year, his reputation built on gossip and assumptions had only gotten worse. It hadn't helped that he now bore the dark mark on his left forearm, and he had tried to explain that his father had forced him to take it, that he would have hurt him in unthinkable ways if he didn't, but no one listened. No one cared. He still had his friends, but his association with them didn't help, as most of them were pure-blooded Slytherins whose families were death eaters.

But without them he would have nothing.

He didn't understand— no one was nearly as mad at Draco for walking over to the Dark Lord at the final battle as they were at him for simply possessing some of his DNA. It made him resent his cousin, but he knew he couldn't blame him. He had been every bit as coerced into the death eater cult as him: threatened with the deaths of them and their families.

Muggle-borns and the majority of the half-bloods avoided him like the plague; even some pure-bloods, who were far more politically correct, looked at him with distaste in their eyes. Mattheo wanted to scream to the whole world that he wasn't his father and didn't give a single fuck about blood purity. But who would listen? They would see that he was screaming and immediately associate his anger with the desire to start a war.

You, on the other hand, also couldn't escape your reputation. Prior to the war, you had been known as a goody-two-shoes, called uptight, boring, a smartass. While in hiding throughout seventh year, you had shed any resemblance you had to such an identity, but despite appearing and acting completely differently now you had returned for the subsidiary eighth year, your peers still treated you like a naïve and overly innocent child. Bullied you, even, in some more extreme cases. They viewed you as socially inept, sexually unaware, scared of alcohol, smoking and drugs.

They wouldn't listen when you told them that you had changed— so, there you found yourself, in a Saturday detention after doing something incredibly stupid to get people to stop seeing you that way. The stupid thing in question? You had let yourself get caught being outside of your house quarters after curfew. It was pathetic, and an admittedly idiotic thing to do just for the sake of changing your reputation, but there you were.

Worst thing was it hadn't even worked.

"I bet she had a panic attack," a Ravenclaw girl had giggled.

"She definitely got on her knees and started begging for the professor to show mercy," a Hufflepuff boy had laughed.

They still saw you as pathetic and helpless: a certified teacher's pet.

"Miss L/N, you'll be serving detention with Mr Riddle today," Professor McGonagall spoke, snapping you out of your self-pitying thoughts, "Your task will be to clean every cauldron here in the potions classroom— by hand, no magic— until they are gleaming."

You glanced over to your right to see that Mattheo Riddle was indeed sat there: he must have snuck in while you were deep in thought. It was just your luck, that your weak attempt would have the worst possible consequences— being stuck in detention with the Dark Lord's son as a muggle-born.

"I will check on you both periodically." The headmistress then departed, but not before saying to you, "I'm disappointed in you, Miss L/N."

Even your professors still saw you as naïve. It made you angry.

Mattheo watched you curiously as you stormed over to the big stack of cauldrons and roughly grabbed one, slamming it down on the floor and grabbing the muggle cleaning supplies left out. You started scrubbing in such an anger-fuelled rigorous manner that he almost forgot that he was supposed to be helping you.

"You gonna help or not?" you snapped.

His eyes widened, and he couldn't stop a smirk from gracing his lips, "Never thought I'd see the day where goody-two-shoes L/N is in detention and yells at me."

"Would people stop fucking saying that?" you said all too loud, "I hate it. I fucking hate it."

"Hate what?" Mattheo asked delicately, standing up and walking over to grab a cauldron from the pile.

"Being called a goody-two-shoes like I'm some kind of child," you scowled, "I'm sick of being treated like I've never even had a sip of alcohol."

This was the first time since before the war that a muggle-born had even entertained having a full conversation with Mattheo, even if you were filled with rage throughout it. Because of that, he decided that he needed to calm you down and make you actually like him— association with a muggle-born could completely transform his reputation.

"I'm sorry," he said delicately, the words foreign to him, "I didn't realise it hurt you so much."

You stopped scrubbing the cauldron to look up at him with shock evident on your face: had the son of Voldemort just apologised to you? He had to be mocking you, there was no way he wasn't. "You're making fun of me," you said cautiously.

"I'm not, I swear," he held his hands up in surrender, "I know all too well what it's like to not be able to escape a reputation."

"Aren't you in here for getting into a fight?" you raised an eyebrow curiously.

He nodded grimly, "Guy wouldn't stop saying I'm exactly like my father."

And that was when your opinion of Mattheo began to soften, and you started to feel bad for assuming he hated muggle-borns simply because of who his father was. But he did have the Dark Mark.

"If you're not like him, why did you get that?" you gestured towards his left arm, which was covered but everyone knew what sat there.

Mattheo drew back, "He was responsible for genocide, do you really think he was beyond threatening me if I didn't take it?" His words were cold, and angry.

"Sorry," you mumbled, regretting asking such a personal question when you hardly knew him.

Silence fell upon you both for a couple minutes as you polished away at the cauldrons.

"For the record, I didn't ever think you'd only had a sip of alcohol."

You quirked an eyebrow at him, "No?"

He shrugged, "Everyone gets drunk. I just thought you only did it outside of school."

A small smile crept on to your face, "Thank you, mind telling everyone else that?"

"Sure."

You had said it as a joke— you didn't expect him to be so agreeable. "Really?"

He nodded.

"Oh, God, now I feel so bad."

"Why?" Mattheo asked, finding your muggle-speaking mannerisms endearing.

"Because I believed your reputation."

"You don't anymore?"

You shook your head, "This is the first time someone's ever treated me my age."

He tilted his head curiously, "You know, I think we might be able to help each other's reputations."

"You do?"

"Think about it," he shifted closer to you, "People think I hate muggle-borns, you're a muggle-born. People think you're an innocent goody-two-shoes, I'm known for being quite the opposite."

"So...?"

"We date."

Your brain short circuited and you dropped your cloth into the cauldron, "We... date?"

"Not for real," he clarified, "Just until people's views of us are changed."

You thought it over. It was true: no one would think of Mattheo as like his father if he was willingly in a relationship with a muggle-born, and no real goody-two-shoes would date bad boy Mattheo Riddle.

"Okay," you said, holding out your hand, "Let's do it."

The boy smirked, taking your hand, "Perfect."

***

When you arrived at dinner that evening, after a long few hours of cleaning cauldrons until they glistened, it was hand in hand. He squeezed your palm softly as watchful eyes observed the two of you together, and he even tugged you over to the Slytherin table, making you give him a worried look.

"They'll be civil," he leaned down to whisper in your ear. You nodded nervously.

All of his friends were in silence as they watched you take a seat next to Mattheo, and their jaws almost dropped when he began dishing food on to your plate first. You felt embarrassed under their gaze, but you didn't let it show, thanking Mattheo once your plate was full. He gave you a soft smile that you had never seen grace his face before— not that you had ever been close enough to him to see it.

One of his friends, Blaise Zabini, cleared his throat and broke the silence, "So, uh, are you two a thing?"

"Yeah," your 'boyfriend' replied.

"I didn't even know you were courting," Blaise stated simply, clearly suspicious.

"There's a lot of things you don't know," Mattheo said vaguely, "Can't a man have some secrets?"

Silence fell once more.

"Do any of you have a problem?" he asked, the slightest hint of anger lacing his tone.

They all immediately shook their heads.

"Good."

Despite Mattheo's friends being remarkably docile towards you, you could still feel the stare of other people littered around the room. It was quite a shock, you supposed, as you two were probably the last couple anyone would have expected. Regardless, they should really learn to mind their business— if they did, you wouldn't have to be doing a whole fake dating scheme in the first place.

***

Mattheo walked you to class, held your hand in the corridors, and even carried your books for you wherever you went. Stares continued to follow, but people no longer called you a goody-two-shoes: no, instead when you overheard people ask about you, they said "she's Riddle's girl" instead. You would prefer to be thought of as your own person, but it was certainly a step up from the reputation that you were so sick of. That, and Mattheo had informed you that muggle-borns were no longer avoiding him like the plague, even occasionally nodding at him in the hallways. All around, the plan was working.

No one knew that your dating scheme was fake apart from the two of you, even his friends believed it— and, despite your blood status, they were beginning to warm up to you. Pansy especially, and you were grateful to finally have someone that you could consider a friend.

One chilly Tuesday morning, when Mattheo was walking you to your ancient runes lesson, there was another girl in your class being 'dropped off' by her boyfriend. You both watched as he leaned down to peck her lips before leaving, and you didn't think anything of it until you reached the door and Mattheo leaned down to press a soft kiss on your lips. Taken aback, your ears heated up, and you felt shy as he smirked at you.

"What was that for?" you whispered.

The man before you shrugged, "He did it. Can't have people knowing the truth about us."

"They have no reason to suspect it," you grumbled, but you couldn't deny the butterflies swarming around your stomach.

"Better safe than sorry," he grinned cheekily, "I'll see you later, doll, yeah?"

You nodded, caught off guard when he kissed you yet again.

You were in a daze when you entered the classroom, and you knew that everyone could guess why there was a smile plastered on your face. You felt like a lovesick fool, when you weren't even in love.

***

Mattheo had insisted that people would question the validity of your relationship if you didn't go on Hogsmeade dates together: every Hogwarts couple went on dates to Hogsmeade. You had reminded him that people had no reason to question whether or not your relationship was fake, but he had once again shrugged and said, "Better safe than sorry." Not that you minded, of course, you had always wanted to participate in the Hogsmeade dating tradition. Although, it did make you wonder how long this dating scheme would go on for, as Mattheo's reputation was essentially already completely transformed.

"Can we go in Honeydukes?" you asked as Mattheo, like the gentleman he apparently was, helped you down from the carriage.

"Of course," he smiled, not letting your hand go, "Wherever you want, doll."

Your stomach flipped, but there remained an itching notion in the back of your head. It was fake: it was all fake. He was only being so gentlemanly and caring to prove to the school that not only did he not share his father's views on muggle-borns, but that he could dote on one like it was his life's purpose. All he wanted was to no longer be seen as the devil's incarnate, so he presented himself as an angel. But, when he looked at you with that smirk and that glint in his eyes, it would feel real— just for the briefest moment. No one had ever been romantically interested in you before, maybe that's why you felt his actions deep in your core.

"Hello? Y/N?" his voice snapped you out of your drifting thoughts, and you realised that he was talking to you.

"Hm?"

"Thought I'd lost you there," he chuckled, "C'mon, doll— Honeydukes, remember?"

"Yeah, sorry," you looked down abashedly, and his grip on your hand tightened.

"Sometime this year, if that's okay with you."

***

Mattheo's ring-clad hands left a cool trail against your blazing skin, setting your insides alight as you felt wetness pool at your core. He had his signature smirk settled on his face, the smooth curve of his pink lips sending sparks throughout your body. The hazed look in his dark eyes likely mirrored the one in yours— you were getting desperate, revelling in the way he stared at your tits.

"Please, Matty," you murmured, begging for something, anything.

His sinister chuckle made your senses twitch and tingle. "Please what? What do you want, doll?"

"You," you said thoughtlessly, reaching your hands up to grasp on to his shirt.

"I'm all yours," he whispered, his hand trailing down to the inside of your shorts and panties. When he finally made contact with your slick entrance, your hips bucked up, grateful to have finally received some amount of stimulation. "You're so wet for me."

You hummed as he began tracing circles on your clit, forcing out a moaned, "Only for you."

He applied more pressure, making you grasp on to the bedsheets for dear life, unable to physically comprehend the magic feel of his calloused fingertips. The smirk on his face returned as he watched you writhe beneath him, and you felt your peak approaching faster than you had imagined was possible. Everything about it felt so right, so perfect, so erotic.

"You gonna come for me, angel?" he asked, his eyes locked on to yours.

You nodded.

"Then come."

And just as you felt your muscles begin to tighten and the pleasure begin to climax, the moment was cut short.

***

You were in bed, that much was still the same, but there was no sign of a Slytherin descendant anywhere in your vicinity, and your tits were not out in the open, being enclosed within your large pyjama shirt. You groaned, feeling the pool of wetness between your legs, but being unable to do anything about it due to your shared dormitory situation. Fuck, Mattheo wasn't even your real boyfriend, and you had just had a godly wet dream about him that lit a match in your soul.

How could you face him after picturing him in such an intimate situation? How could you pretend like you were okay with the surface-level falseness of your façade? He was your doom's day: you could feel it. You should never have agreed to a fake relationship, and remained begrudgingly within your outdated reputation.

Reluctantly, you peeled the covers off of your sweating body, and made your way to the showers.

***

Avoiding him was just as impossible as being around him. For one, you couldn't risk people questioning the stability or realness of your relationship. For two, the second you entered the Great Hall for breakfast, he was beckoning you over to where his friends were. And you couldn't very well ignore him when he had done absolutely nothing wrong.

"Hey, doll," he greeted you, pecking your cheek in the process. The very action made the flame burn brighter.

"Hi," you all but squeaked, focusing your attention on taking some waffles.

"We were just discussing the next quidditch game."

"It's a guaranteed win for Slytherin," Zabini smirked, knowing full well that the team that they would be playing against was your house's.

You scrunched up your nose, "I wouldn't be so sure."

"Are you not even gonna wear my jumper during the game?" Mattheo asked, sending yet another sparking bolt straight through your veins. You could feel your body heating up just by being in his presence.

"Against any other house I would, but I have to draw the line somewhere," you said, hoping your voice sounded completely normal and not at all like you craved his naked form. Unfortunately, the appeal of wearing a clothing item that would have his scent woven into its fabric was not helping your case.

"Pity," he grumbled.

Thankfully, Zabini challenging your opinion that Slytherin wasn't guaranteed to win led to a wonderfully distracting argument with the rest of the Slytherin boys. Not only was it a distraction, but it also made you feel as if they saw you as an equal, not just as a muggle-born, but in age and lack of innocence as well. It was a stupid notion, but it was the kind of treatment that you had desired for so long.

"I can't stand this quidditch talk any longer," Pansy finally said, having remained quiet for the majority of the conversation, "Y/N, wanna get away from the men?"

"Please," you murmured, grateful to escape the intoxicating presence of Mattheo.

"Where are you going?" he asked.

Pansy shook her head as she stood up, "Anywhere but here. The girls' toilets if it means getting away from you all."

You giggled, going to stand up. You felt Mattheo's hand grasp your wrist, giving way to tingly sensations reminiscent of last night's dream.

"I'll see you later, yeah?"

"Of course," you nearly stuttered, "We have defence against the dark arts."

He nodded, letting go of your wrist, before saying to Pansy, "Don't keep her too long."

"Calm down, lover boy," she retorted, linking arms with you as you began to walk off.

The last thing you heard from the Slytherin boys was Berkshire saying to Mattheo, "You're pussy-whipped, mate."

Oh, how you wished he was.

***

"I don't know how you managed to lock down prince of the fuckboys Mattheo," Pansy spoke as you both entered the girls' toilets, "And I do see the way he looks at you-"

"The way he looks at me?"

She nodded, "Like you're the only girl in the room— but, please be careful. I don't want you getting hurt."

You knew that it was too late for that, as you had caught feelings in a fake relationship, and it was killing you inside that you couldn't tell anyone about it. All you could do was agree with Pansy. "Thank you for your concern, I appreciate it."

"Of course, we're friends," Pansy smiled, "And I love Mattheo dearly as a friend, but I know his history when it comes to romance and sex."

"People change," you murmured, just loud enough for her to hear.

"That they do," she agreed, "But just be sure of Mattheo's change before you fall madly in love with him."

Somehow you feared it was too late for that.

***

During defence against the dark arts— a theory lesson, unfortunately— you found your seat next to Mattheo as you let Pansy's words mull over you. The anxious pondering that you were in too deep caused you to start nervously bouncing your leg up and down. It was an action that did not go unnoticed by Mattheo, who furrowed his eyebrows at your behaviour. Gently, he placed his hand on your thigh and watched as you froze up at the contact.

Because, little did he know, the simple act of a touch so close to your core sent tingling flashbacks of your dream of him flooding through your veins. Your skin became ablaze with desire, and long gone was the obsessive overthinking about what Pansy had said to you. You sucked in a shallow breath, gripping your quill tightly as you glanced towards Mattheo who was now looking at you with thrice the concern than he was earlier.

"You okay?" he whispered.

You gulped and nodded, but it was clear that he didn't believe you. He squeezed your thigh gently, and you swore that your brain nearly short-circuited— yet you didn't want to push his hand off. This moment was so far removed from the fake external image of your relationship that you temporarily forgot all of your concerns. No one could see where his hand was: it served no purpose towards your reputation as a couple.

Merlin knows you would never be able to recall the content of that lesson.

***

One breezy autumnal afternoon and you were walking down the hallway, hand in hand with Mattheo and giggling about this and that. You had finally pushed Pansy's warning to the very back of your mind, and allowed yourself to almost fully immerse yourself in the moment with your so-called boyfriend. The interlocked nature of your hands felt natural as you paid no mind to bystanders.

That was, until, the unmistakable word of mudblood passed through your ears from the direction of a seventh year Slytherin, who evidently disapproved of your newfound association with the house. It was annoying, really, how your ears always tuned into that word no matter how distracted you were. You paused in your movements and stared at him: you were no longer timid, nor a push-over. Mattheo looked confusedly at you and where you were looking.

"What are you looking at, mudblood?" the seventh year sneered at you, and before you could even say anything, Mattheo's hand had let go of yours.

And he had barrelled right into the boy, throwing merciless punches as his face went stone cold. "Do you wanna say that again, hm?" he spat, landing another solid hit, "Don't ever fucking talk about my girlfriend like that."

You stared in shock at the brawl, feeling a whole wave of mixed emotions— Mattheo was defending you, and by God did he look fucking hot doing it. But, also, you really should break up the fight before he committed manslaughter.

"Mattheo," you said softly, but he didn't hear you, so you said louder and more sternly, "Mattheo."

His movements ceased and he resorted to staring down at the boy who now groaned in pain, covered in blood and already darkening bruises.

"This was a warning," he said carefully, "Next time I won't stop."

You shook your head, grabbing his bicep to pull him off the boy for good and dragging him away. It was lucky there hadn't been a professor around, but they would probably still find out one way or another and Mattheo would get punished. For now, however, he was yours to deal with.

"I can fight my own battles," you bit off, but there wasn't any real malice in your tone.

"I know," he said simply.

You sighed and rolled your eyes, "Thank you, though, for defending me."

"Of course. No one belittles my girl."

Your heart flipped— there was nobody around, there was no reason for him to say that. Deciding to focus your attention in order to ignore the thumping of your heart, you analysed his hands. "We need to get you cleaned up."

"It's just a little blood," he shrugged.

"A little is still too much. C'mon."

You dragged him to the abandoned girls' toilets, where Moaning Myrtle resided, and ran some toilet paper (which had probably been there for decades) under the tap. As you began delicately wiping down the injuries, Mattheo watched you with intrigue, admiring your attention to detail. Little did he know, you were simply trying to stop yourself from replaying the sexiest image you had ever scene in your life inside your head. You felt as if you were about to burst into flames.

Once you were finally done, you chucked the toilet paper into a toilet and re-emerged from the cubicle, making eye contact with the man leaning against the sinks. Moaning Myrtle seemed to be nowhere in sight.

Which was a good thing, because the tension in the air was thick— thicker than blood. You bit your lip as Mattheo's eyes raked down your body and drank you in. Under his gaze, you felt purely animalistic: beauty didn't matter, intelligence didn't matter... all that mattered was skin on skin and bodies becoming one. But, when it became clear no one was going to make a move, you said, "Pansy warned me about you."

"In what way?" he smirked.

"That I shouldn't get in too deep with the prince of fuckboys until I'm sure you've changed."

"And do you think I've changed?"

"What does it matter? We're not actually together."

A flash of hurt coursed through Mattheo at the reminder, but he remained stoic and said, "That's not what I asked, is it?"

You stared at him blankly.

"Do you think I've changed?" he repeated.

You said nothing.

"Because I think I've changed," he stepped closer to you, "So, I'll ask you one more time, do you think I've changed?"

"Yes," you replied feebly.

"My friends think I've changed," he continued, "They think I'm pussy-whipped."

You felt bold for the briefest moment, and asked, "Are you?"

He shrugged, leaning his face down until it was inches from yours, "I don't know yet. Guess we'll have to find out."

And then his lips were on yours in a passionate frenzy. None of those pecks he had given you in greeting and goodbye: no, this was a real kiss, one that had the fire in your heart dancing erratically. You pulled away, breathless, to see that Mattheo was looking at you with hazy dark eyes.

"Was that real?" you asked.

"Well, it happened, didn't it?"

You shook your head, "I mean, was it real?"

A smirk tugged on his lips, "No one was here to see, sweetheart."

And that was all the confirmation you needed to kiss him again, sliding your tongue along his lips as he grabbed your ass, squeezing and groaning. You felt electric, alive— transcendent. His mouth moved from your lips, to along your jaw, to your neck. He sucked and licked in a way that had you letting out a gasp, melting under his touch.

"You're my nicotine," he mumbled, slipping a hand under your skirt and pushing you back against the wall.

You moaned as his fingers glided over your clit.

"You like that, doll?"

Helplessly, you nodded, your legs buckling as he applied more pressure and more vigour.

"Mhm, that's my girl," he murmured, bringing you quicker to your release than you had ever been able to manage yourself.

"Fuck, Matty, I'm gonna come," you gasped out, hips bucking up as you leaned against the tiled wall.

He chuckled as you rode out your high, the slickness of your pussy creating a squelching sound throughout the acoustics of the massive vacant toilets.

"I hate it when my friends call me that," he muttered, pulling his fingers out from under your skirt.

Your ears heated up even more— if that was possible— and you quickly rushed out a, "Sorry."

"Don't be," he kissed your lips softly, "I like it when you say it."

Your lips curved into a shy smile.

"Do you mind if we deal with a certain problem?" he asked, gesturing to the tent in his trousers that had more slick leaking from you at the sight of.

"Of course," you said slyly, a new wave of confidence rushing over you. Slowly, you walked around him and sauntered over to the sinks, pulling your tights and panties down as you leaned forward and lifted up your skirt.

"Fuck," you heard him curse, "You really have changed."

And then he was behind you, as suggested by the sound of a zipper so close to you, and the fact you could see him in the mirror. You watched as he pulled out his dick, which was thick and long, making your mouth water as he lined himself up with your entrance.

"Are you sure?" he questioned, not sure if he could take any answer but 'yes'.

You bobbed your head, "Fuck me, Matty."

"As you wish, doll." And then he was inside you, filling you to the brim and making you feel as if you were finally whole.

"Fuck," you gasped, clutching the edge of the sink as he began thrusting, your eyes tightly shut.

"Look at me."

You opened your eyes, making eye contact with him in the looking glass. Sweat was gathered on his brow, and his hands were tightly on your hips— you felt so close to him, in such a real and authentic way that had your soul burning.

One of his hands moved, retreating out of your view, but you knew exactly where it went when you felt a jolt of pleasure shooting through you. He rubbed circles that had you seeing stars, your moans and curses pushing Mattheo close to the edge along with the pure ecstasy of how you felt around him. He didn't think he had ever been so vocal during sex before, but with you, everything felt brand new. Finally, Mattheo felt like he belonged somewhere, felt like he was nothing like his father— but he had no place in his thoughts at that moment. Instead, he focused on you and the clothed curves of your body, until he was about to explode.

"Can I come inside you?" he panted.

In a sex haze, you moaned, "Yes."

And then his release hit, the throbbing of his dick pushing you to your second orgasm as his movements became sloppy. Eventually, once your highs had been ridden through, he stopped moving, the only sounds remaining being the ones of heavy breathing. When he had pulled out, and you had both cleaned up and done up your clothes, you gave him a teasing smile.

"Are we real now?"

He chuckled, "This was never fake. Not to me."

"Well, then, boyfriend," you smirked, "Better scurry on and get me a Plan B potion."

He pressed a kiss to your lips, "Yes, ma'am."

And he took your hand in his.

———————————————

masterlist

written; 10/04/2024 —> 25/04/2024 published; 25/04/2024 edited; —/—/——

124 notes · View notes

luizd3ad · 1 day

Text

Game Time | Poly!Bartylus x GN!Reader One shot

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ࣪˖⤷ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ ࣪ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 ˖ ⤷

Pairing: Barty Crouch Jr x GN Reader x Regulus Black

WC: 700

TW: polyamorous relationship, Modern AU, light talks about killing Sims, no use of Y/N, this is just fluff

Author's Note: Honestly I just got this idea bc my sims hyper fixation is coming back. The little bit of French that’s in here I got from google please tell me if it’s wrong.

Summary: Regulus comes home to you and Barty playing the sims.

Someone tell me to stop making theses for ever fic please. I won't listen but someone should still tel me.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★【☆】

Regulus had spent the day with Sirius, just catching up.

They've been finding it harder to do so since leaving Hogwarts so they try to make it a priority to see each other as often as possible.

He did enjoy spending time with his brother but right now all he wanted to do was go home to his partners.

You and Barty were like a breath of fresh air to him after his social battery was drained. Just being in the presence of both of you was enough to make him feel better.

Regulus finally crossed the threshold to his shared flat. He took his shoes and jacket off at the entrance and put them in their designated places.

But then he noticed the flat was quiet which was rare considering Barty lived there.

“Mon amours? I’m home?”

Regulus called out looking around the flat curiously.

No one was in the living room. He didn't hear anyone in the kitchen.

He started walking down the hall that held their shared bedroom and the guest room/ office when he heard them.

“Angel, I love you but you're wrong!”

“Watch it Crouch! Or you'll end up in the basement next..”

Regulus was only slightly taken back when he heard his partner say that to their boyfriend.

Honestly it wouldn't be the first time he heard them say something like that.

Barty then gasped and started shirking something about ‘Never feeling so betrayed’ which was something Barty would say often.

Regulus took a deep breath mentally preparing himself and then opened the door to the office, he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle at the sight in front of him.

There they were, the loves of his life hunched over the computer playing the muggle game that Remus had shown them.

‘The Sims’ he thinks it was called, but he couldn't quite remember.

“Barty.. Did you take the ladder out of the pool again?”

Barty then gasped as if the thought was inconceivable.

“What would make you think such a thing, angel?”

“I mean other than the fact that you've done it before? The sim’s name is Bartemius Crouch and he looks exactly like your father.”

Barty then giggles looking proud of himself.

“Leave him there he deserves it.”

Barty says with a wide smile.

Regulus chuckles a little louder this time and shakes his head finally catching the attention of his partners.

You and Barty both turn your heads to look at Regulus.

You send him a big smile and say.

“Hi my love, how's Sirius?”

“Sirius is fine. Now what are you two doing?”

Regulus say still standing in the doorway of the room.

“I'm trying to show our darling boyfriend that there's more to The Sims than killing the people that you wish you could kill in real life.”

“And I'm trying to show our angel that killing people in the game is the most fun you can have.”

“Wait, so you make the characters people you actually know?”

You and Barty look at each other and then look at Regulus with raised eyebrows.

“Obviously.”

Barty says looking at Regulus like it should be common sense.

“Wait so you have a character of me?”

“Of course we do.”

You say then turning back to the computer clicking on the mouse a few times and then waving Regulus over to show him a big house with sims of the three of you.

“Is this supposed to be our house?”

“Yes. Unfortunately we’re not all technically dating on here, since that's not an option.”

You explain while Barty crosses his arms while pouting and saying.

“Which is stupid.”

Regulus just smiles at Barty and kisses his head.

“It’s okay mon beau because we’re dating in real life.”

Regulus says while running his hand through his boyfriend's hair.

You and Barty spent the rest of the night showing Regulus your favorite parts of the game.

Regulus found himself having a good time whether it was just because he got to spend time with the two of you or because he actually found the game entertaining he didn't know nor did he care.

He was just content and happy to be there.

【☆】★【☆】★【☆】★��☆】★【☆】

57 notes · View notes

joelsgreys · 50 minutes

Text

flutter

Post Outbreak! Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

snapshots masterlist

summary: When you finally start to show, Joel has a tough time with it as the reality sinks in—he’s going to be a father again.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. JACKSON ERA. (TW) PREGNANCY. established relationship. no mention of reader’s age, however in other works for this universe, it is implied she is younger than Joel, her specific age will never be stated so do with that what you will. brief descriptions of a pregnant woman’s changing body, brief mention of morning sickness, mention of breastfeeding (it only comes up in a conversation very briefly) these subjects can possibly be triggering, especially mentions of a changing body, so while i try to handle everything with the utmost care, i still ask that you proceed with caution. domesticity, reader enjoys taking care of her family, ellie is a little shit, grumpy joel, he’s sort of a dick at first? but only because he’s working through some feelings so let’s forgive him, okay?

word count: 3.5k

a/n: this is part of the snapshots universe, but it could absolutely be read as a standalone too. minimal editing, this has been sitting in my drafts and i did a quick edit during my lunch hour, so please excuse any mistakes.

“Shit.”

You almost can’t believe your own two eyes. Staring at your reflection in the large, oval shaped mirror hanging over the porcelain bathroom sink, your gaze widens in complete surprise. “Jesus Christ,” you mutter, turning to the side. It takes your brain about a good minute or two to process, really process, the way that your belly strains against the thin, white cotton of your camisole. It had seemingly swollen overnight—because it hadn’t been this prominent the day before, had it?

Over the last few months, there’d been changes.

Some subtle and some not so subtle.

“Ellie! Stop fucking staring at them,” you’d scolded the teenager late one evening during yours and hers weekly game night. For as hard as you tried focusing on what move you should make next, it was hard to concentrate on the chessboard in front of you when you could feel the way her eyes were fixed on your breasts. “I mean it! Quit staring at my boobs, you little shit.”

She held up her hands, her mouth full of popcorn.

“Hey, in my defense, they’re just fucking there, man. If anything, they’re fucking staring at me, okay?”

During your chess rematch the following week, you had accidentally knocked one of your pawn pieces off of the table. When you’d stood up and bent over to pick it up, she had made the observation that your butt seemed to have gotten a little bigger too.

“Bet Joel’s liking these changes,” Ellie had smirked. “It sure as hell explains why the headboard’s been banging against the wall more than usual lately.”

You threw the pawn at her, smiling in satisfaction when it bounced off her forehead and landed into her glass of lemonade.

One part of your body, however, hadn’t changed.

Not until now.

“Hon, trust me, you have nothing to be worried about,” Maria had assured you with confidence when you had brought up your concerns about your stomach. “Every woman, and every pregnancy, is different. I didn’t start showing until I was around six months, remember?”

“I guess you’re right.” You’d been around four months, then. “Doesn’t help that I haven’t felt the baby move.”

“You will,” Maria had promised. “Just be patient”

Biting your lip, you place a hand on your belly.

It’s always been one of the softer parts of you, but now, it’s firmed into a perfect, round bump.

“Maybe soon I’ll feel you move,” you murmur, giving it a gentle pat. You tug the lace hem of your camisole down as far as it can go and then pull at the elastic waistband of your blue, terry cloth shorts.

Shutting off the lights in the bathroom, you slip out into the bedroom where you find that Joel’s still tangled up in the sheets, fast asleep. He had been assigned to the afternoon patrol route today—normally an early riser, if he was still snoozing, it meant that he really needed the rest. Deciding it was best to let him keep sleeping for a little while longer, you quietly tiptoe out of your shared bedroom and head downstairs into the kitchen.

After making yourself a glass of fresh squeezed orange juice, and one for the kid as well, you prepare the coffee maker for Joel. You spoon dark roast grounds into the filter and set the timer for the coffee to start brewing in thirty minutes.

He should be up by then, you think, pulling a basket of eggs out of the refrigerator.

You’re starting to get used to this. Domesticity.

Despite your protests, Maria had made the decision to pull you off patrol that same afternoon you had shared the news of your pregnancy. “I’m putting you on leave,” she’d told you. “Effective immediately. I don’t want to see you outside of these walls. Got it?”

“That’s not fair, Maria. You were out on patrol until—”

One stern glare from her had shut you right up.

“Fine.”

Sure, you missed it and looked forward to the day when you’d be able to get back into the saddle with your rifle in hand, but this way of life had grown on you. Certainly a lot more than you thought it would.

You enjoyed taking care of the house. Packing Ellie her lunch for school and checking her homework. Having a nice a meal on the table for the three of you to enjoy in the comfort of your own home instead of having to go down to the crowded mess hall for supper because you and Joel were both always much, much too tired after a long day out on patrol to bother with cooking.

With the baby due to arrive in the winter, looking after your little family had become your purpose, and you did not mind it one bit.

As strips of bacon sizzle in one pan on the gas powered stove, you crack a couple of eggs into another, knowing the kid is already on her way downstairs. You can hear the sound of her old, tattered low top sneakers that you have been trying to throw away for almost a year now squeaking on the kitchen tiles just as you finish plating her breakfast.

“Morning!” Ellie pipes, the loud plop of her backpack into a chair prompting you to turn around. “What’s for brea—whoa! Holy shit!” Her brown eyes widen in shock when she sees you and her jaw drops. “Dude.”

“Ellie,” you say her name warningly as you walk over to the table. “Don’t.”

“You’re bigger!”

With a playful glare, you set her plate down, along with her glass of orange juice. “Thanks a lot, you little jerk.” You feign offense. “You’re making your own eggs from now on.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” Ellie’s cheeks flush a shade of red and she squirms, sputtering apologetically, “I swear, I don’t mean it like that at all. It’s just, your stomach, it didn’t—you didn’t look like this last night, you know?”

She’s fucking lucky that your raging hormones decided to take the morning off duty.

“You look different. I mean, you look great—”

“Ellie?”

“Yeah?”

“Just shut up and eat.”

“Deal.”

She shoots you a sheepish grin and sits down, scarfing down her food in her usual manner.

“You get your fractions homework done?”

“Yeah.” Ellie huffs, rolling her eyes. “Took me forever. I was up until fucking midnight.”

Amused, you offer, “Want me to check your work?”

“Sure.”

As Ellie inhales the rest of her breakfast, you pull out a green, single subject notebook from her backpack and look over her homework for miscalculations.

“So, uh, how are you feeling?” she asks after a minute.

“I’m feeling alright. I think the morning sickness finally stopped, so can’t complain.” Shrugging, you close the notebook and stick it into her backpack. “You did good, kid. Only got two problems wrong.”

“Man, I really wish we knew whether it’s a boy or girl,” Ellie mumbles through a mouthful of scrambled eggs. “What do you want to have, anyway?”

“It doesn’t matter to me, Ellie,” you answer, honestly. Clocking the skepticism on her face, you laugh and say, “It’s true. As long as the baby’s healthy, that’s all I care about.” And you mean it. As an expectant mother in the post outbreak world where medicine is scarce, supplies are limited, and the closest thing you have to a hospital is the town’s old clinic, the only thing you can hope for is the smooth, safe delivery of a healthy child.

Before she can say anything, you both catch the sound of Joel’s heavy boots as he descends the staircase.

She quirks an eyebrow. “Uh, has Joel seen you yet?”

Grimacing, you shake your head. “No.”

“Well, I don’t wanna be here for all that awkward,” Ellie says, chugging the rest of her orange juice. She stands up and snatches up her backpack, along with her lunch bag, which you’d packed for her earlier that morning. Just as she’s about to whirl around on the heel of her sneaker and make a run for the front door, she pauses, watching as you make your way back over to the stove to light another flame. “Unless you want me to be?”

“I’ll be fine, Ellie,” you assure her. “Go on, get to school. Maybe you’ll be on time to class for once.”

“If you say so.” She wishes you luck and then bolts out of the kitchen, throwing a quick goodbye at Joel on the way out. “See ya later, old man!”

Nervously, you turn around and start cracking another two eggs into the pan. There’s no telling how he’s going to react.

Joel’s been fairly supportive since you’d found out you were pregnant, considering how unplanned it was. But you know him like the back of your own hand, and you know, despite the numerous times he’s denied it, that it has been weighing heavily on him. Each time you’d try to sit down to talk to him about it, he would brush you off and insist he was fine. But he wasn’t fine.

And you wish he would spit it out and tell you why.

In your periphery, you notice the stained glass butterfly he had hung in front of the window above the sink, the ornament catching and refracting the sunlight. Flecks of color dance across the walls in captivating patterns, brightening the space. You think of the sweet little girl he’d hung it for, the little girl he rarely talks about, that he keeps tucked away safely in his memory.

You bite back a small sigh.

By now, you’ve learned not to push him. Especially not about what he was feeling. He would tell you when he was ready.

“Who the hell lit a fire under her ass this mornin’?” Joel asks gruffly as he walks into the kitchen. “She ain’t ever this fuckin’ eager to go to school.”

“Not sure,” you reply in the most nonchalant tone you can muster as you use a spatula to scramble the eggs. Transferring them onto a plate, you add three strips of bacon, and then pour his coffee. “I have your breakfast ready, Joel. Have a seat.”

You hear a chair scrape against the tile.

“I keep tellin’ you I can make my own breakfast, darlin’.”

“And I keep telling you I don’t mind making it for you,” you quip, and you hear him grumble something under his breath.

Inhaling a deep, calming breath through your nose, you take the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand, and his cup of coffee in the other. Your fingers grasp the handle of his ceramic, owl mug in a near death grip. You exhale slowly, and then turn around to face him.

He sees your swollen middle and stiffens in his chair.

The tension is instantaneous. Palpable.

Uncomfortable.

Awkwardly, you shift from one foot to the other.

“Your belly,” Joel murmurs, a visible tick in his jaw as his gaze drags over your midsection. “S’bigger.”

“Yeah. It is. Guess I’m going to have to start trading for maternity clothes soon,” you remark, shuffling over to the table. Setting down the plate and mug of coffee in front of him, you take a seat across the table. Your eyes try desperately to meet his, but they refuse. There’s no way for you to decipher what he’s thinking. You let out a small, nervous laugh. “Can you please say something?”

He lightly clears his throat. “I’ll take you to Main Street on Saturday,” he tells you, picking up his mug. “I’ve got the day off from patrol. I’ll, uh, pick through some of my own things and see what I don’t need so we can make a trade for some clothes.” He pauses, then offers quietly, “In the meantime, you can wear my shirts. They might be more comfortable for you.”

You flash him a grateful smile. “Thank you, Joel.”

Sipping his coffee, he continues to avoid your gaze.

“Mhm,” is all he says.

Your smile falters.

It’s the middle of August.

The afternoon heat is sweltering. Unforgiving.

“Jesus, it’s a fuckin’ scorcher,” Tommy sighs, glancing over towards the lake where his mare, Maxine, is taking a drink beside his brother’s stallion, Phoenix. His raven curls are damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead. “Hotter than the devil’s fuckin’ balls out here, ain’t it?”

He’s met with silence.

Looking over his shoulder, he sees Joel leaning against a tree, his rifle in hand as he stares at the Grand Tetons in the distance almost like he’s in a trance. “Joel?”

Blinking furiously, Joel shakes his head. “Sorry, you say somethin’ to me just now?” He asks in a daze, pushing away from the lodgepole pine. “We headin’ out?”

“You’ve been actin’ real strange all afternoon,” Tommy observes, walking towards him with his own gun slung over his shoulder. “Either the heat is startin’ to get to you, or you’ve got somethin’ on your mind, big brother.”

Joel hesitates. His dark eyes flit to the other side of the lake where the other members of their afternoon patrol group are refilling their canteens with water.

“S’alright,” his younger brother says. “Don’t worry ‘bout them. Can’t hear us.”

Joel’s chest heaves with a heavy sigh. “She popped.”

“Huh?”

“Her belly finally popped. She’s showin’ now.”

Amused, Tommy lightly shakes his head. “Y’shouldn’t be so surprised, Joel. Was ‘bout time,” he remarks with a shrug. “What is she—like six months along now?”

“She’ll be six months in a couple weeks.” Joel wipes the perspiration off his brow with the back of his hand and sighs once more. “Look, I ain’t stupid, Tommy. I knew it was bound to happen sooner or later, but it still caught me by surprise. When I saw her, it became real for me. She’s got my kid in there. I’m gonna be a dad again.”

“You’re scared.” It’s not a question, it’s a statement.

“Shitless,” Joel confesses, feeling his chest tighten.

“What are you afraid of?”

Joel almost laughs.

He doesn’t know where to start.

He’s afraid of everything.

“All of it, Tommy. I’m afraid for her, havin’ to give birth with no medicine,” he tells him, his voice breaking. “I’m afraid I won’t remember what to do with a newborn or that I won’t know how to help her durin’ those first few months—”

“This ain’t your first rodeo,” Tommy reminds him. “You did it once, and you did just fine, Joel.”

“That was over three fuckin’ decades ago. And it was a different world. If Sarah—” He stops, taking a second to catch his breath. The image of his daughter’s little face flashing in his mind feels like a violent punch to the gut. Even after all this time, it still knocks all of the wind out of his lungs. “When her mom had trouble breastfeedin’ her, I could head to the grocery store and buy her baby formula. If she got a real bad fever, I could load her up in the truck and drive her to the emergency room.” He glances down at his broken watch. “Besides, I was a lot younger, then. And I wasn’t half fuckin’ deaf like I am now. When Sarah would wake up cryin’ in the middle of the night because she needed a diaper change, I’d hear her. What if I can’t hear my own kid cryin’?”

“Joel—”

“I’m in my fifties. What if I can’t keep up because I’m too fuckin’ old?”

Tommy reaches out, clapping a hand onto his shoulder.

“Brother, I need you to take a fuckin’ breath,” he says, chuckling softly. “You’re puttin’ the weight of the world of your shoulders right now—you need to put some of it down. Look, we might not have everythin’ we used to before the world ended, but we make do with what we do have. Considerin’ just how many growin’ families we have and how many little ones we’ve got runnin’ around our town, I’d say it’s workin’ out pretty fuckin well.” He gives his shoulder an encouraging squeeze. “And as far as your ability to be a good dad, you’ve still got it, Joel. You know what to do, and so does she. I’ve seen her in action with my little boy, and it seems like she’s already got those maternal instincts, y’know?”

“Yeah, she does,” Joels agrees quietly, thinking of how you had stepped up to help him care for Ellie.

“Trust me, between the two of you, it’ll be alright.”

He peers at him. “You really believe I still got it in me?”

“I do.” Tommy smiles. “You never stopped knowin’ how to be a father, Joel. You’re gonna be just fine.”

Their patrol shift extends into the evening, turning into a double, and it’s late when he gets home.

“What the hell are you still doin’ up?” Joel asks when he finds Ellie sitting at the kitchen table, cursing to herself as she flips through the stale, yellowing pages of an old life science text book.

“What does it fucking look like, man?”

“Shouldn’t have waited until the last minute, kiddo—”

Ellie holds up a hand and cuts him off.

“Save the lecture for another time, dude. I’m busy.”

Joel rolls his eyes. “Finish up and get to bed. S’late.”

Without waiting for some smartass response, he turns on the heel of his boot and then heads upstairs to your shared bedroom. He flips on the lights only to find that you’re already in bed, fast asleep, wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of panties. He toes off his boots and leaves them by the door, being as quiet as he possibly can as he rummages through his top drawer for some clean boxers to sleep in.

He slips into the bathroom where he takes a quick, hot shower, scrubbing off that day’s sweat, dirt, and grime. After he’s dressed and his sopping wet, salt and pepper curls are haphazardly towel dried, Joel walks back out into the bedroom where he switches off the lights and climbs into bed next to you.

He lays on his side and he’s just about to close his eyes when he feels a light shift beside him. You roll over and curl into him, your belly pressing up against his curve of his spine.

He stiffens, freezing as if someone had just placed the barrel of their pistol against his back, their finger over the trigger.

Christ, get a damn grip, he thinks silently to himself.

Joel thinks about that morning in the kitchen.

He knows his reaction had hurt you. Or rather, his lack of a reaction. His shitty ways of coping aren’t your fault, and his struggle to come to terms with your pregnancy sure as hell isn’t your fault, either. He owed it to you to try harder to be the man you needed.

The man you both needed.

Joel’s train of thought comes to a screeching halt when he feels a soft flutter against his middle of his back, the spot right where your tummy is nestled—did the baby just move?

He lies still, waiting to see if he feels it again, and when he doesn’t, he rolls over to face you, causing you to stir.

“Joel?” you mumble his name, sleepily. “What time—?”

“Shh,” Joel soothes, pulling you into his bare chest. He kisses your temple. “S’okay, baby. Go back to sleep.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice.

Within seconds, you’re asleep again, snuggled into him and snoring softly.

Lifting a hand, he hesitates, then rests it on your belly.

He waits.

And waits.

Until the minutes turn into hours.

Until dawn’s light filters in through the lace curtains.

Until he finally feels that little flutter again.

He feels it against the palm of his hand. Faint, nothing more than a brief whisper against his skin, but there is no mistaking it.

He’d just felt the baby’s movement.

There’s a sudden shift.

Tense muscles that had been painfully wound up since the moment you’d mentioned to him your period was a week late back in the spring loosen slightly—the breath he had been holding since he’d picked up that positive pregnancy test from the bathroom counter finally falls from his lips, fanning over yours.

His fears, his worries, his uncertainties about what lies ahead, they’re all still there, of course, but he finds they are now accompanied by a glimmer of hope, a sliver of optimism that maybe, just maybe, Joel doesn’t have to be as afraid as he is.

Joel’s eyes glaze over your face, warmth radiating in his chest when you breathe a little a sigh of content in your sleep as he gently rubs your stomach through his shirt.

With his hand still splayed over your belly, he closes his eyes and begins to drift off, falling into the most decent sleep he’s had in the last few months.

Maybe his brother’s right.

Maybe he will be just fine.

divider credit to @saradika 🤍

#tw pregnancy #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x pregnant reader #joel miller one shot #joel miller drabble #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #fic: snapshots

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hawkflame999 · 2 days

Text

A few incorrect quotes from my Secrecy AU.

So you all asked for Incorrect quotes, huh? well here they are! —----------------------------------------------------- Cole: LLOYD! Get out of your true form RIGHT NOW! You could get seen!

Lloyd: Ugh, fine it’s not like we’re in the deepest, darkest, most shadowy corner in a city of all time, so I'll go back to pretending to be fully human….

Kai: Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon Spinjitzu-

Lloyd: *Sighs and shifts to human form* There. Happy? Wu: Lloyd, you have to be careful, especially in the city.

Lloyd: Yes, uncle!

The other five: ........

—-----------------------------------------------------

Wu: Okay, I want you all to be very honest, and I want you to know I'm not very angry, so tell the truth.

Everyone: Wu:

Wu: Cole….Jay….Kai….And Zane.

Cole: What!?!?! Why are we getting blamed for this?

Wu: Well, you’re the ones who taught Lloyd the basics… at least that’s what you said you were doing.

All four: uh….. Wu:

Wu: When I said you could teach Lloyd how to drive, I didn't mean you could teach him how to drift.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: You couldn’t sleep guys either?

Cole: Yup, us too, little buddy.

Kai and Nya: Uh huh.

Zane: It appears so.

Jay: What Zane said.

Wu, walking in: WHY ARE ALL SIX OF YOU AWAKE AT 3AM?

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: Uncle, can you tell me about how my dad was when he was younger? Wu: Well, as children me and your father would play hide and seek.

Lloyd: And?

Wu: And whenever Garmadon found me he’d pretend to be a child-eating monster and chase me around.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Skylor, holding on for dear life: Do any of you even have car licenses??? Zane, Kai, Cole, Jay, Nya, and Lloyd in perfect unison: NOPE!

Skylor: THEN WHY ARE WE HIJACKING A FREAKING PLANE?!?!?!?!

Jay: Just because we don’t have licenses doesn’t mean we don’t know how!

—-----------------------------------------------------

Jay: Soooo who’s gonna say it?

Kid!Lloyd: Say what?

Kai: You had a nightmare.

Lloyd: No I didn’t!

Zane: Explain why you woke up screaming, then.

Lloyd:

Nya: Exactly.

Lloyd: *groans* This is why I hate being the youngest, your siblings always see through you at the worst of times!

Kai: Calm down buddy, now what was the nightmare about?

Lloyd: I’m not saying.

Cole: You sure? Come on, tell us!

Lloyd: Make me.

Jay: *smirking* Oh, really?Or do you want a visit from the tickle monster?

Lloyd: *Nervous* Okay, okay! I’ll tell you!

Nya: Good.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: Uncle Wu! How did you find us?

Wu: I saw an explosion and recalled something about ‘Jumping Yōkai Hunters’.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Zane, looking under the bed with a flashlight: Lloyd, are you ready to come out and interact with people?

Kid!Lloyd, under bed: *growls* HISSSSSSSS! Zane: understandable, have a nice day.

Jay:

Jay: At this rate, he’l never come out from under there. It been two days. Cole: should i jst pull him out? Kai: yeah, he hasn't been eating.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: I can't believe we're doing this.

Kai: Look on the bright side, at least this time we're not crashing a vehicle into Sensei's tea shop.

Cole: Yeah, this time we're just evading the police while riding stolen motorcycles.

Nya: Oh, joy.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Jay: So, who's up for a game of hide and seek?

Lloyd: Not it!

Cole: Not it!

Kai: Not it!

Jay: ...Seriously?

Nya: It's okay, i'll be it.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Cole: So, who's up for a game of hide and seek in the dark?

Kai: Uh, Cole, we're already hiding from society. I think we've mastered that game. Cole: Lloyd: Nya:

Skylor:

Cole: So are we playing? Jay: Heck yeah.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Misako: Why do I always get dragged into your crazy plans?

Jay: Because you're one of only our friends with a driver's license.

Misako: I regret ever getting that license.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Kai: We need to get to the middle of the city, but we can’t without the police seeing us!

Jay: Hang on, lemme cause a blackout!

—-----------------------------------------------------

Zane: Ok, we need to get to the other side of the cliff……. ICE SLIDE!

Nya: I'll help make it slippery, too!

—-----------------------------------------------------

Zane, Kai, Cole, Jay, Nya, and Lloyd: Are we in trouble?

Wu: take a guess.

Kai: No?

Wu:

Wu: take another guess.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Sensei Garmadon: Lloyd, back when our uncle was younger, he’d sneak off when me and your grandfather weren’t looking and get into a lot of trouble. Sometimes I joined him.

Lloyd: really?

Sensei Garmadon: Yes, and it started up with the other Elementals too. And I see that your generation has inherited it, especially you.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Cole: Well if the way out of this is the sewers…

Zane: Come on, we can see in the dark!

Jay: What I'm worried about is the POLICE ARE TRYING TO SEND US TO AN ORPHANAGE BECAUSE THEY THINK WE’RE A BUNCH OF ORPHAN STREET KIDS.

Nya: That isn’t too far from the truth, though.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Cole: How did we end up on top of a moving train again?

Zane: It seemed like the quickest way to get to the other side of the city without being seen.

Kai: Plus, it's a great view from up here!

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: Okay, we need a plan. Who's got one?

Jay: raises hand

Kai: Jay, your last plan involved us getting stuck in a tree for three hours.

Jay: But we got away, didn't we?

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: Why do I always have to be the distraction?

Cole: Because you're the youngest and most innocent-looking.

—-----------------------------------------------------

Lloyd: Why do we always end up in these crazy situations?

Cole: Because we're the ninja, Lloyd. It's practically in the job description.If being a ninja has a job description….

Kai: Yeah, but I don't remember "evading the police while riding a stolen rickshaw" being listed anywhere.

—-----------------------------------------------------

That's it for now :D Part One of This AU

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wu-sisyphus-gang · 2 days

Text

Ruby: Not that I'm bored, but why can't we just use an airship to take these supplies out to Amity?

Penny: The components for Amity’s construction are far too heavy. All that weight would require precious dust we should be saving for the launch itself. And the Grimm that will come after.

Ruby: It just makes for a long, very long supply run.

Penny: At least the tundra is scenic.

Ruby: Totally.

Penny: Ruby! I just wanted to say how excited I am to be working with you in a professional capacity. As friends!

Ruby: Me too, Penny.

Penny: Relationships are so interesting. And varied.

Ruby: Speaking of friends. Have you been able to make any new ones? Since, you know...

Penny: Now that I’m the official protector of Mantle I don’t really have a team any more. General Ironwood says I don’t have time for friends.

Ruby: Oh uh… how do you feel about that?

Penny: I feel like I wish I could do both the things I need to do, and the things I want to do. Is that normal?

Ruby: That’s about as normal as it gets Penny.

Penny: Ruby...

Ruby: Penny.

Penny: You first.

Ruby: Uh, okay. I talked to Ozpin the other day. We talked about making you one of the maidens. My team and I discussed how you were probably built with that in mind. I just wanted to make sure it was okay with you, though.

Penny: I understand your worry, Ruby. But I am more than up for the task. Either spring or fall, I don't really mind.

Ruby: Well, okay if you're sure. What was it you were going to ask about?

Penny: I was going to ask how you were with your relationships, Ruby. You asked after mine after all. It seems like something a friend would do.

Ruby: Well what did you mean?

Penny: Well you have had a boyfriend now. What was that like?

Ruby: It was uh good.

Penny: I've never had a boyfriend of my own. I've never talked to the General about it, either. Or my father.

Ruby: I wasn't very good at talking to my family about it either. Romantic stuff that is. It took me forever to tell Yang and by the time I did… well I didn't so much as tell her so much as she caught us.

Penny: Caught you?

Ruby: We were just kissing. I mean, it was going places if I had my say in it but we were just kissing when she walked in on us. She found out that way.

Penny: Going places? Had you and Jaune been places before then?

Ruby: A handful of times.

Penny: Ruby! That was scandalous of you. What happened next?

Ruby: Yang pulled him off of me and slammed him into a wall.

Penny: So… he was on top of you, then. And your sister just ripped you apart.

Ruby: I'd been trying to wrap my legs around him but...And Jaune just sort of stood there looking dazed. It wasn't because of being slammed into the wall. He's fairly robust. He was just sort of out of it because we'd been kissing. I might be a good kisser. You could, like, see it.

Penny: Ruby! Do you mean… his…?

Ruby: Through the hem of his pants.

Penny: Was he… was he large?

Ruby: I think so. Not so much until he was inside. If that makes any kind of sense. Then it seemed like he was huge but in a good way. A really awesome feel good kind of way.

Penny: Ruby!

Qrow: Is everything alright up there!?

Ruby: We're fine!

Ruby: Penny are you… are you built, down there?

Penny: I'm designed to one day have children. If I so choose. With the right upgrades as pregnancy goes on. My father thought it was important.

Ruby: He told you?

Penny: Oh yes. He gave me the talk. He thought it was important that I have the freedom of expression that having children is. The eggs are from donors which were engineered. And I don't quite have a monthly cycle. But other than that things are roughly the same.

Ruby: You don't have a cycle? Brag about it, you queen.

Penny: Ruby!

Ruby: How roughly the same are we talking about here?

Penny: Ru -by ! The same enough.

#rwby #rwby incorrect quotes #jaune arc #ruby rose #lancaster #penny polendina #qrow branwen #motion sickness

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clockwork-ashes · 2 days

Text

Mirrors

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been.

Summary: The Lady of Autumn has a difficult conversation with her eldest son (one-shot).

Find more Autumn Court one-shots here :)

The Lady of Autumn had a name, although she was hardly ever called by it. Like a fading tapestry, once bright colours muted over the years, a whisper of what had been.

Callista.

Chosen by her father, a name both sharp and beautiful, perhaps a wish that she would grow up and be the same. The male who had raised her was centuries dead, along with the rest of her family, and Callista was achingly alone.

There was a certain reverence to each of her titles, she could admit, thick as blood as they fell from the lips of those around her.

Lady.

Wife.

Mother.

The last and worst of them all, like a knife taken to her chest each time it was uttered, a reminder of everything she had never wanted.

“Mother.” The crack of a whip, harsh and unexpected, even after the countless years that had passed. Time moved slow as honey, and the word was no less difficult to bear.

With a wince, Callista looked up at her eldest son, feeling small in front of his towering frame. The corridor they were in was empty, torches flickering and casting long shadows on the stone walls. There were no windows, making it seem as though it was late at night when Callista knew the sun had just gone up, had watched as she did every morning as it inched over the horizon. .

Lovely and sharp like shards of broken glass, Eris scowled.

Callista knew he looked like her, it had always been the case. Nobles and servants alike attested to their similarities, like mirrors, they whispered, meant as a compliment she was sure.

Firstborn, heir to the throne, Eris had never smiled as a child. Hair scarlet as fresh blood, eyes amber gemstones, pale as bone and cruel in his beauty, he still reminded her of Beron.

Eris’ full lips were pulled down slightly at the corners in a frown, and Callista hummed in response.

“Have you been listening?” Eris questioned, and she could hear the disbelief whirling in the words.

“Of course,” she waved a hand dismissively as she told the lie. Her mind had been elsewhere and she did not feel like explaining herself to her son.

Eris’ lips curled up slowly, the smile empty as his eyes flared with embers in annoyance. “Then I won’t repeat myself.” He shrugged, the movement elegant even without an audience there to witness it. “Lucien’s bags are packed and we’ll be in the eastern territories, should anyone ask.”

As though she were a puppet with her strings pulled taught, Callista straightened her spine, the sound of blood rushing to her head loud as a river in her ears. “Why?” She managed to ground out, worry deep in her gut.

Eris raised an auburn brow at her, false confusion on his face. “It’s as I’ve said.”

Quick as a snake, her fingers fangs, Callista grabbed onto the High Lord’s heir. Flames flashed in her russet eyes as she spoke. “Don’t play games, Eris.” She was not in the mood, and she hoped her tone suggested as much.

“Never,” he clipped, attempting to pull away. Callista held firmly to the sleeve of his shirt, and Eris let her. “Fair to say you hadn’t been listening?”

“Speak, Eris,” the demand was rough, and she felt as Eris bristled, although nothing of the sort showed on his face.

Eris clicked his tongue, mocking despite how serious Callista was. “One of these days, you’ll find that I should be unwilling to help you.” It could have been a threat or a promise, but Callista was not certain.

“Not this day,” she snapped, feeling her cheeks heat with anger. The torches in the empty hallway flared around them. “Do I have to beg you?”

Eris pulled his arm back with a scowl, looking very much like his father. He straightened his shirt with a stiff gesture. “Have I ever asked you for such a thing?”

“Hardly seems like you’re above it.”

For decades, there had been a strain between them. Beron’s favourite son, the child she had never wanted but loved despite it. Complicated and entirely out of her control, she could still remember crying when Eris had been born. It had only gotten worse as the decades had passed, as Lucien had grown.

Perhaps it was hurt that flashed starbright on Eris’s lovely features, but as soon as it had appeared it was gone. Expressionless and cold as ice, Eris spoke. “If you’d been paying attention, mother, you would have heard that father doesn’t want Lucien in the Forest House.” He scowled as he continued, “at least for a little while.”

“Why?” She asked again, praying Eris would give her an honest answer.

“To keep him away from you, he told me,” Eris’s gaze was searching. “You spoil him.”

“He’s a sweet boy, everyone spoils him,” Callista said, her mouth tight. That much was true, she had seen it with her own eyes, how charmed the entirety of Autumn was with her youngest son.

“Father gave Lucien one of his daggers, you know the one with the fox hilt?” she nodded, unsure what Eris was about to say. “His to keep, first weapon handed from father to son.” Tradition, Callista knew, was valued in Autumn, where a change in power had not been had for centuries. “Would have been heartwarming,” Eris said, a restrained anger in his tone, “If not for the fact that Lucien’s eyes shone gold as daylight to ruin the moment.”

As though she had been struck, Callista reared back. Beron had known since Lucien had been born, had seen fit to punish them all for her infidelity, but Lucien had still been claimed as his seventh son. Protection and a curse all at once. The shame would have been too great, Beron had said, to have a disloyal wife and a child that was not his own.

“Eris–”

He raised his hand to silence her. “Is joy to blame? Sunbright eyes only when Lucien is happy?”

“Yes,” Callista breathed, her nerves getting the best of her, panic a near unbearable weight on her slim shoulders. She smelled copper, the sharp tang of blood, and thought it was her own. It took her a moment to realise that Eris had bitten through his cheek, an anxious habit he had inherited from her.

Mirrors.

“I’m taking him to my home in the east,” Eris said softly, attempting to comfort her. “Handle your husband and send word when we can return.”

Callista felt tears embarrassingly begin to form at the corners of her eyes. “Can I say goodbye?” Her voice was small and she felt pathetic, like a horrible mother, her curse to bear.

Eris looked ready to deny her wish, but perhaps he sensed her despair, her worry in the face of the unknown. With a sigh, a hand running through his hair, Eris offered her his arm. “I think Lucien would be devastated if you didn’t.”

Relief rained over Callista as she gently held onto her eldest son. “Thank you, Eris,” she said ever so quietly.

Eris did not respond, and Callista wondered if he even heard her.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #autumn court #the lady of autumn #eris vanserra #lucien vanserra #he's not in this but it's about him #vanserra family #i can't stop thinking about loa and eris #thank you to everyone who reads <3 #ashes writes sometimes

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