blue-siphoned - Tumblr blog

[blue-siphoned]

save the day (please)

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader has had a terrible day, and azriel (her mate) is right there to pick up her pieces (and kiss her bruises).

a/n: yeah i had a bad day and i needed this so i wrote it lmao. enjoy <3

your knee throbbed as soon as it made contact with the corner of the bed frame, immediate pain registering in the form of sharp waves.

"fuck," you cursed under your breath, wincing as you hunched over to inspect the section of skin - that was absolutely going to leave a bruise.

today had been horrible. truly, undoubtedly terrible - one of those days where it felt like every single thing that could go wrong, had gone awry. like the odds were stacked against you.

and because of this, your mood was absolutely foul. as every slight inconvenience began to accumulate and pile on, you felt the crease between your eyebrows wind tighter and tighter. you were sure it was now a permanent fixture on your features.

you'd had half a mind to just crawl back into bed, bring the covers up to your chin, and fall asleep once more - a do-over, a restart. you were convinced that this day was unsalvageable.

you trudged downstairs to the dining hall in the house of wind, hoping to find reprieve in the form of a refreshing lunch. rounding the corner, you became aware of the deep timbre of several different voices, one of which belonging to azriel. your mate.

you'd reinforced your mental shields once your mood had completely gone south earlier today. you didn't want him to feel the tidal waves of unrestrained anger and frustration that you were sure would end up projected down his side of the bond. he had more important things to worry about - you didn't want to derail his mood, too.

you knew him - knew that he would have cancelled every single thing on his agenda today, no matter the importance. his main goal would have become taking care of you and your bad mood. he was a precious, precious male. but honestly, keeping him from his work for the day would have only made your mood worsen due to the guilt it would've caused.

you took a deep breath before stepping into the threshold of the dining hall. you transformed your expression into one that depicted calmness, happiness. you were so sure it was convincing. and to anyone that wasn't your mate, it probably would have been.

you took one step towards the large table that took up the center of the room, a forced smiling stretching across your lips. azriel, cassian, and rhys all met your gaze in tandem, the latter two males nodding politely.

you glanced over at azriel, not missing the way his eyes raked across your body. his stare became hardened for just a moment as he studied you.

"what's wrong?," he asked, voice tense. he clocked it immediately. no mask was opaque enough to hide your true feelings from him.

you faltered for a moment, standing in place - fidgeting with your fingers. he tracked that movement too, huffing out a breath through his nose knowingly. you cleared your throat, taking a seat at the table next to him as you always did.

he stiffened in his seat, shifting his body to face yours just slightly.

"nothing, az," you said brightly, beginning to serve your plate from the generous spread that sat in the center of the table.

az stayed silent for a moment, watching you closely. he combed over your features, waiting for one of your tells. he'd come to know you so well, knew what every minute movement, twitch, or glance meant.

and sure enough, you'd scrunched your nose - just slightly - but azriel knew immediately: something was off.

he placed a large hand on your shoulder without another word, and before you could react, the both of you had been teleported back to your rooms swathed in shadows and night.

you made a quiet noise of surprise - you were not a newly mated couple, but you'd still failed to wholly get used to azriel's teleportation. especially when you were just about to lift a bite of food to your lips. and now, here you both stood, in your dimly lit rooms - no food in sight.

"az," you chastised, knowing that your mate wouldn't drop the subject until you confessed your feelings to him - feelings you'd rather just ignore.

"no, y/n," he replied calmly, leading you over to your shared bed.

"sit," he gently commanded, pulling you down to sit on the edge of the mattress alongside him, "what's going on, my love?"

his voice was so deep, so calm, so loving. it took all of your restraint to not launch yourself into his lap. his question dripped with sincerity, care, love. it made your chest ache.

especially considering you'd planned to hide this part of yourself away from him today.

you sighed, meeting his tender gaze hesitantly. he moved to grab your legs from where they dangled over the bed, opting to drape them over his own lap instead. he gently massaged and rubbed your muscles, urging you to speak whenever you felt ready.

"i'm just having an awful day," you spoke quietly, feeling a bit silly whenever the words left your mouth.

he hummed in understanding, his scarred hands working knots from your calves.

"tell me what happened," his voice like a warm hug. you watched as his hazel eyes searched your face with concern.

you pursed your lips, thinking for a moment. letting out a deep breath, you spoke.

"i woke up late this morning, and it was raining, so i couldn't go down to the rainbow to shop like i'd planned. i spilled my morning tea all over the sheets - which is my fault, i shouldn't have been drinking tea in the bed to begin with, but i was cold, and-...," you trailed off, sighing in exasperation, "i ripped my favorite dress by accidentally stepping on it when i tried to put it on, and," you paused, moving the hem of your gown up a bit higher to show off the budding bruise forming on your kneecap, "i hit my knee on the bed frame and honestly, i think that was the final straw," you finished, glancing up at az's face.

he was smirking at you in adoration, and he dropped his head for a moment to hide the grin that was causing his dimples to make a welcome appearance. he huffed out a small laugh, and you reached over to lightly slap his bicep.

"don't laugh," you fussed, fighting to hold back your own smile.

"my sweet girl," he chuckled out, his voice full of love, "you're just precious, i can't help it," he reached out, cupping your cheek in his large hand.

you sighed again, this time in mock frustration, "you aren't taking me seriously," you remarked, placing your hands in your lap.

"no, no, no," he replied, nearly cooing, "i am, i promise. i'm sorry you've had such a frustrating day," he tsked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"we'll go to the rainbow tomorrow," he amended, "and we'll purchase a brand new dress for you while we're there," he lifted one of your hands, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

"and," he continued, diverting his attention to the angry skin on your knee, "i'll take care of this," his voice lowered, reaching down to press slow, gentle kisses across the area.

he nudged his nose against your thigh as his lips continued to travel. he pressed several more kisses to your tender knee, taking his time.

then, his mouth began to move upward, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thigh. he placed open mouth kisses as his lavishing continued north, his tongue darting out to taste you as he went.

his hands pushed the hem of your gown up higher, both of your upper legs completely bare to him.

your breath hitched, and you leaned back on your elbows against the mattress. "az," you whispered out, voice heady.

"shh, darling," he hushed, moving himself to bracket his body across your lower half.

his mouth continued its journey up, up, up.

until the sensation of his tongue, his lips, his mouth landed right where you needed it the most.

and suddenly, you couldn't remember why you'd been so upset in the first place.

a/n: my reasoning for writing this was completely indulgent because i, myself, have had an awful fucking day. this was out of complete selfishness, because i need this right now lmfao. i hope you enjoyed & maybe this can bring you comfort, too <3 let me know what you think!

[blue-siphoned]

save the day (please)

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

summary: reader has had a terrible day, and azriel (her mate) is right there to pick up her pieces (and kiss her bruises).

a/n: yeah i had a bad day and i needed this so i wrote it lmao. enjoy <3

your knee throbbed as soon as it made contact with the corner of the bed frame, immediate pain registering in the form of sharp waves.

"fuck," you cursed under your breath, wincing as you hunched over to inspect the section of skin - that was absolutely going to leave a bruise.

today had been horrible. truly, undoubtedly terrible - one of those days where it felt like every single thing that could go wrong, had gone awry. like the odds were stacked against you.

and because of this, your mood was absolutely foul. as every slight inconvenience began to accumulate and pile on, you felt the crease between your eyebrows wind tighter and tighter. you were sure it was now a permanent fixture on your features.

you'd had half a mind to just crawl back into bed, bring the covers up to your chin, and fall asleep once more - a do-over, a restart. you were convinced that this day was unsalvageable.

you trudged downstairs to the dining hall in the house of wind, hoping to find reprieve in the form of a refreshing lunch. rounding the corner, you became aware of the deep timbre of several different voices, one of which belonging to azriel. your mate.

you'd reinforced your mental shields once your mood had completely gone south earlier today. you didn't want him to feel the tidal waves of unrestrained anger and frustration that you were sure would end up projected down his side of the bond. he had more important things to worry about - you didn't want to derail his mood, too.

you knew him - knew that he would have cancelled every single thing on his agenda today, no matter the importance. his main goal would have become taking care of you and your bad mood. he was a precious, precious male. but honestly, keeping him from his work for the day would have only made your mood worsen due to the guilt it would've caused.

you took a deep breath before stepping into the threshold of the dining hall. you transformed your expression into one that depicted calmness, happiness. you were so sure it was convincing. and to anyone that wasn't your mate, it probably would have been.

you took one step towards the large table that took up the center of the room, a forced smiling stretching across your lips. azriel, cassian, and rhys all met your gaze in tandem, the latter two males nodding politely.

you glanced over at azriel, not missing the way his eyes raked across your body. his stare became hardened for just a moment as he studied you.

"what's wrong?," he asked, voice tense. he clocked it immediately. no mask was opaque enough to hide your true feelings from him.

you faltered for a moment, standing in place - fidgeting with your fingers. he tracked that movement too, huffing out a breath through his nose knowingly. you cleared your throat, taking a seat at the table next to him as you always did.

he stiffened in his seat, shifting his body to face yours just slightly.

"nothing, az," you said brightly, beginning to serve your plate from the generous spread that sat in the center of the table.

az stayed silent for a moment, watching you closely. he combed over your features, waiting for one of your tells. he'd come to know you so well, knew what every minute movement, twitch, or glance meant.

and sure enough, you'd scrunched your nose - just slightly - but azriel knew immediately: something was off.

he placed a large hand on your shoulder without another word, and before you could react, the both of you had been teleported back to your rooms swathed in shadows and night.

you made a quiet noise of surprise - you were not a newly mated couple, but you'd still failed to wholly get used to azriel's teleportation. especially when you were just about to lift a bite of food to your lips. and now, here you both stood, in your dimly lit rooms - no food in sight.

"az," you chastised, knowing that your mate wouldn't drop the subject until you confessed your feelings to him - feelings you'd rather just ignore.

"no, y/n," he replied calmly, leading you over to your shared bed.

"sit," he gently commanded, pulling you down to sit on the edge of the mattress alongside him, "what's going on, my love?"

his voice was so deep, so calm, so loving. it took all of your restraint to not launch yourself into his lap. his question dripped with sincerity, care, love. it made your chest ache.

especially considering you'd planned to hide this part of yourself away from him today.

you sighed, meeting his tender gaze hesitantly. he moved to grab your legs from where they dangled over the bed, opting to drape them over his own lap instead. he gently massaged and rubbed your muscles, urging you to speak whenever you felt ready.

"i'm just having an awful day," you spoke quietly, feeling a bit silly whenever the words left your mouth.

he hummed in understanding, his scarred hands working knots from your calves.

"tell me what happened," his voice like a warm hug. you watched as his hazel eyes searched your face with concern.

you pursed your lips, thinking for a moment. letting out a deep breath, you spoke.

"i woke up late this morning, and it was raining, so i couldn't go down to the rainbow to shop like i'd planned. i spilled my morning tea all over the sheets - which is my fault, i shouldn't have been drinking tea in the bed to begin with, but i was cold, and-...," you trailed off, sighing in exasperation, "i ripped my favorite dress by accidentally stepping on it when i tried to put it on, and," you paused, moving the hem of your gown up a bit higher to show off the budding bruise forming on your kneecap, "i hit my knee on the bed frame and honestly, i think that was the final straw," you finished, glancing up at az's face.

he was smirking at you in adoration, and he dropped his head for a moment to hide the grin that was causing his dimples to make a welcome appearance. he huffed out a small laugh, and you reached over to lightly slap his bicep.

"don't laugh," you fussed, fighting to hold back your own smile.

"my sweet girl," he chuckled out, his voice full of love, "you're just precious, i can't help it," he reached out, cupping your cheek in his large hand.

you sighed again, this time in mock frustration, "you aren't taking me seriously," you remarked, placing your hands in your lap.

"no, no, no," he replied, nearly cooing, "i am, i promise. i'm sorry you've had such a frustrating day," he tsked, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.

"we'll go to the rainbow tomorrow," he amended, "and we'll purchase a brand new dress for you while we're there," he lifted one of your hands, pressing his lips to your knuckles.

"and," he continued, diverting his attention to the angry skin on your knee, "i'll take care of this," his voice lowered, reaching down to press slow, gentle kisses across the area.

he nudged his nose against your thigh as his lips continued to travel. he pressed several more kisses to your tender knee, taking his time.

then, his mouth began to move upward, his fingers digging into the plush skin of your thigh. he placed open mouth kisses as his lavishing continued north, his tongue darting out to taste you as he went.

his hands pushed the hem of your gown up higher, both of your upper legs completely bare to him.

your breath hitched, and you leaned back on your elbows against the mattress. "az," you whispered out, voice heady.

"shh, darling," he hushed, moving himself to bracket his body across your lower half.

his mouth continued its journey up, up, up.

until the sensation of his tongue, his lips, his mouth landed right where you needed it the most.

and suddenly, you couldn't remember why you'd been so upset in the first place.

a/n: my reasoning for writing this was completely indulgent because i, myself, have had an awful fucking day. this was out of complete selfishness, because i need this right now lmfao. i hope you enjoyed & maybe this can bring you comfort, too <3 let me know what you think!

[blue-siphoned]

coffee for two

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.1k

summary: reader introduces coffee to azriel, he falls in love - and not just with the hot beverage.

a/n: this is just a fluffy little oneshot that was born from a headcanon that someone posted where it was mentioned that azriel would love black coffee. and like, i agree. and i had to write this immediately. also, hurricane hits tomorrow morning, and i'll likely be without power for an extended period of time. i'll post as i can! pls keep sending requests so i have things to write when i finally have power again. love u all! <3 talk soon.

azriel had a knack for trailing behind you - a moth to a flame, he couldn't help but find himself right next to you whenever the opportunity presented itself.

you hadn't yet noticed.

a newer addition to the inner circle's family, you were initially introduced to the group through your recruited assistance on a job - by rhysand, who had now become the protective older brother that you'd never had in just several short months.

however, you'd first ended up hitting it off with mor, and the rest was history - you'd since become an indoctrinated member of the family, and your presence was welcomed wholeheartedly - you were boisterous, funny, a bright, beaming light.

and azriel could not, for the life of him, stay away.

you'd become comfortable with every one of his loved ones to some extent - they all adored you, took care of you, worried after you.

but az .... there still remained a question mark over the male. you couldn't quite figure out how he felt about your presence.

sure, you'd caught him softly smirking over at you when you'd crack one of your witty jokes. and sure, he'd often speak up whenever you found yourself in a pointless debate with cassian over various family dinners - the shadowsinger never failing to stand up for you and take your side, even if the mock argument was all in good fun.

one time, you were running late for said dinner, and az had gone out of his way to make sure the house had prepared your favorite meal - your plate was steaming hot and waiting for you on a placemat right next to his own seat whenever you'd finally made your way into the dining hall.

cass had just snickered down the table, waggling his eyebrows at his brother's obvious show of affection. azriel remained silent, shooting daggers back towards the war general. that was enough of a response to shut cassian's mouth.

this morning, you'd taken a spot at that same table for breakfast, nursing a mug of hot, dark liquid. the pungent aroma trailed throughout the bottom level of the house, and azriel caught a whiff of it as soon as his boots met the landing of the staircase.

he inhaled deeply, the scent engulfing his senses. it was pleasant - deep and calming. he followed it all the way to the threshold of the dining hall, his gaze finding your small frame tucked into one of the large, cushioned chairs immediately.

you were still wearing your silk nightgown, a matching robe adorning your shoulders. he noted the way the fabric had slipped down just slightly, your bare skin glistening in the morning glow that trickled through the windows behind you.

your hair was tousled, but in the most endearing way. you'd clearly very recently woken up, opting to find your way to this very table before doing anything else.

you stared down at the mug cradled in your hands, your eyes still heavy and tired.

"good morning," he said softly by way of greeting. he began to walk quietly to the chair opposite yours - the thump, thump, thump of his boots against the hardwood floor breaking the calm silence.

you peered up at him, tired eyes slightly squinted. a strand of hair falling in front of your eyes. azriel's gaze snagged there, his fingers twitching with the urge to tuck it behind your ear. he didn't, though - his external expression remained as neutral as possible. however, internally, he couldn't help but let the word adorable sluice through his thoughts.

you gave him a sleepy smile, nodding your head once in greeting.

"good morning, az," you offered, voice still maintaining a fatigued rasp. azriel's knees went weak at the sound, and that's when he decided it would probably be best to sit.

he stared at the contents of your mug for a moment. you weren't indulging in tea - the aroma was much stronger than any he'd personally had before, and azriel thought himself to be quite the tea connoisseur.

"what are you having?," he questioned after a moment, his voice more gentle than you'd ever heard it.

you swallowed the sip you'd just taken, humming quietly to yourself, "coffee," you lightly pushed the mug towards his side of the table, "would you like to try?"

you met his gaze, and azriel realized right then that he'd try anything you'd ask him to - without question, if only to make you happy. even if he hated it, he'd pretend to love it. he longed to make you smile the way his brothers had.

he'd not tried coffee before, although he had heard of it. the opportunity had never arisen, and he figured now was as good a time as any to broaden his scope of morning beverages.

he, too, really enjoyed his alone time right after awakening. it gave him space to sort through his thoughts, his obligations for the day - and he always enjoyed a nice hot cup of tea while doing so.

his scarred hands reached for the mug, and he lifted it to his lips slowly. you smiled fondly while watching him, nodding slightly to urge him on.

"it's a bit strong," you said softly, "i do prefer mine black - without cream or sugar," you added, explaining yourself.

he hummed, taking a generous sip into his mouth. it was bitter, and azriel wasn't quite used to the depths of flavor that he sorted through as soon as the liquid hit his tongue. he thought for a long moment, before taking another small sip.

he nodded in finality, pushing the mug back towards you gently.

"i like that," he decided, nodding once more.

your smile grew as you clasped the mug between your hands once more, "i thought you'd might," you said sweetly, reaching over to tap his hand affectionately.

azriel preened to himself, wishing he could take this moment and pause it for eternity. to never leave this chair, to never have to give up this alone time with you - your silk nightgown, messy hair, and tired eyes. your rosy cheeks. the scent of coffee twining around the both of you, making the air thicker in the sweetest way.

yeah, azriel wish he could freeze-frame this moment forever.

but instead, you both sat in comfortable silence, and the house knowingly presented azriel with his own identical cup of warm, black coffee. his large hand immediately reached out to tug it towards his frame.

you both huffed out a laugh at the same time, and your eyes flicked up to his in realization.

finally, you thought, i've gotten through to him. common ground.

little did you know, azriel had been scrambling after you for months - trying to stand on any ground you'd give him.

and the next morning, when you entered the dining hall bright and early - hair disheveled and half asleep, azriel was already there - waiting for you.

with two mugs of hot, black coffee already on the table.

a/n: yall i have no idea where this came from. someone posted a headcanon where they mentioned azriel loving black coffee, and this idea came to mind immediately. i hope you love it <3

[blue-siphoned]

Elain the Seer with Azriel

This lovely painting was commissioned by @lovelyfawnxx

[blue-siphoned]

“I’ll just rest my eyes” is the biggest lie you’re going straight to snorkmimimi land

[blue-siphoned]

Notes and Poems From Damian pt.2

LINK TO PT 1

Hey loves! I got a couple anon reqs and comments for a part two and can I just say how much I love yall and I’m so happy you liked the og post cuz I had so much fun writing it! I wanted to add a little more storyline for this one because Dami is such a little sad bean without y/n!

LINK TO PROMPTS  -> REQUESTS ARE STILL OPEN!

Dear Y/N, 

We have slipped this note in the envelope Damian will deliver tonight in hopes to contact you without him noticing. We hope you are aware he monitors your texts so if this doesn’t work Grayson will go undercover to deliver this message. Please do not tell Dami about the contents of this letter.

YOU GET TO COME BACK TO THE MANOR! We all cleared the tests and we want to surprise Dami with you! Unfortunately this takes planning which means you have to keep the secret for 4 days, we believe in you. Jason will pick you up in four days we cannot wait for you to save us from the Demon Spawn. Each of us has tried to comfort him to no success and we are scared his mood is permanent. We never thought we’d need a civilian to rescue world famous detectives and vigilantes but if we had a y/n signal it would be up. Jason wants us to note how aggressively horny Damian is and that you should prepare yourself, whatever that means. See you soon y/n

- Dick, Jason, and Tim (not “beloved” Damian)

Back to the regularly scheduled programming!

[three days until meeting Dami]

Dearest, Beloved, Sexy Y/N, Without you in my arms I am blue, It is making me think back to when I met you! Your eyes shone with a beautiful love, Making me thank the lords above, For bringing dear y/n into my life, I tell you often it was that day I knew you’d be my wife, You looked so gorgeous at that dance, I knew I had to take a chance, And when I walked up to you, I finally understood that all cliches are really true, And when you kissed me on the cheek, It made all other moments seem so bleak, With you in my life now, the world is bright, I cannot fathom the luck I had that night.

I hope you reminisce on that gala as much as I do dear y/n

With a full heart, Damian Wayne.

[two days until meeting Dami]

Greetings dear Beloved!

As I wait for Father to approve you coming home to me I have written two different notes today as well as embarrassing pictures I have taken of the hooligans in the house. I included some of your favorites! Dick hanging off various objects, Tim asleep in his mug of coffee, Titus and I, and Father and Jason fighting - it’ll feel like you’re really here, I know you enjoy them even when I do not. Back to the notes, I recommend the second you read alone, I wouldn’t want to alert your parents of the way I crave your touch… regardless, enjoy beloved!

Today I translated a message from each of our pets, I know how dealy you miss them!

From Titus: He barked eight times at the mention of your name, I believe it translates to “come home urgently, I miss your affection” and I must agree with him, I did not believe I could miss your constant affection but I somehow do. Do not tell Grayson I will deny it until I die.

From Alfred (the cat): He seemed somewhat uninterested at you name, I believe it’s because he is a cat. But I think he missed curling up between us and tickling you in the mornings.

From BatCow: She gave an astonishingly long moo, it was quite shocking. I believe she is asking for you to save her from Jason who demands she be served with potatoes or she was asking you to scratch her back like you always do. Have I told you how much I love that you admire my friends pets beloved?

Jerry The Turkey: He too is fearful for his life currently, and did not have much to say. I know he is rather hard to bond with but that is why we love him, and I could not leave him off this list. 

Now for my newest poem!

My brothers are correct in that I am a mess, All I think about is wanting to see you undress, I dance around thoughts of running my hands down your waist, I deeply miss your sweet taste, I’m unable to stop thinking about the curves you flaunt, Trust me Y/N you’re all I want!

I hope to see you soon! In tomorrow’s note I have a new idea! Until then!

Damian Wayne

[one day until meeting Dami]

Habibi,

I hope you can forgive me for the note tonight, it is too late to call you and I refuse to text as you know. I am still convinced Tim has hacked both of our phones. Normally I would sneak in your room and hold you, it always helped when I was upset, but since Father has not cleared me for contact (which I don’t understand why, I thought I could see you in a couple days!) I will just write this note and try to imagine the advice you’d give me. 

On patrol tonight Father and I found a message from my mother to us, she says she needs me for a mission of stealth. Father obviously refused immediately because we both know a mission for Mother most likely involves nothing short of murder and as you know, we don’t kill. I know how proud you are of me that I hold myself to this standard and the majority of the reason why I have not broken is for you. But this is Mother, not anyone else. What do I do beloved? I could go and stand by my morals but for once I doubt my strength. I need you beloved, I feel torn between familial honor and another familial bond. I don’t know where to go. You always say you’re like a safe, holding in all my truths so I beg you to add this one as I cannot confide in anyone else. I love you Y/N, thank you.

With this you couldn’t take it. Suprise or not you needed to be with Damian. Luckily enough you had woken up in the middle of the night to see the note sitting on your windowsill. In a rush you explained to your parents that you needed to be with Damian, and for once they obliged.

As you ran to the manor Alfred met you at the door, having got your message during the ride over. Without exchanging words you both knew this was what Damian needed. Not slowing down you burst into Damian’s room, falling into his arms. He sat in one of his lounge chairs, shocked beyond belief to see you. As you held him you felt his shoulder shake as he clung to you. You let your own tears fall and for what felt like an eternity the two of you clung to each other and cried. You cried out of happiness for finally being able to touch, you cried for Damian, you cried for every pent up emotion you’d held because you couldn’t share them with Damian, you cried for the sake of letting it out, because going without each other was the hardest thing the two of you had ever done.

Eventually the two of you transitioned to his bed, Damian hadn’t let you go, and he didn’t plan on it either. The two of you talked until the sun rose. Rambling about little nothings, your favorite parts of the notes, questioning how horny he actually was, and soon the two of you began discussing Talia. You never felt that it was your place to tell Damian what to do, trying to help him lay out his options and constantly kissing him whenever he looked upset was the best you could do. It was the most emotional night of your relationship, probably your lives, and you clung to each other through it, always in it together, never letting go again.

[blue-siphoned]

Kiss Tax - Bart Allen x Reader

Word Count: 1,856

Summary: Bart had always been affectionate in your relationship. Quick to give or ask for anything from a hug to a kiss – the latter of which he had made a habit of giving before each mission he went on. At least when it wasn’t something last minute or it was manageable. But you had finally decided to return the affections more yourself, beginning to ask for a “kiss tax” on small things such as passing through the door or handing over a drink. A practice that Bart seemed more than happy to adopt and turn around on you just as quickly. 

Notes: Partially inspired by something from Feels Like Fighting Gravity, one of my upcoming OC/Canon fics, where Wisteria tends to demand a “kiss tax” for things – I thought it was cute. Also, inspired by a relationship headcanon that Bart tries to kiss his partner before each mission, just in case.

…★…

It was quiet. 

Far too quiet. 

You had been reading in absolute silence by the window for some time now, a storm pounding on the windowpane in a consistent lull, only interrupted by the bright white flash of lightning and the cracks of ground shaking thunder that sent a vibration through your home and body. 

The quietness that had you narrowing your eyes and sliding a bookmark between pages was not the silence of nature – not with its ongoing war cry – but rather the silence of your home. It was unnerving, unnatural, after becoming so used to the sounds of a speedster making himself comfortable within the walls. Setting the book aside you reached over, grabbing your phone and flicking the screen on to see the time: 4:57 PM. Bart had been due back from his 3-day mission more than 3 hours ago. Granted, it wasn’t uncommon for a speedster to be late back from anything, but for such a stretch of time with no word from him, it was becoming concerning. 

But you had faith in your partner and knew when he was free from his duties or the debriefing – or wherever he was – that he would be back. That was not to say, however, that it would stop you from curling up on your bed and waiting a bit longer. At least you told yourself that had been the plan, but the moment that your head hit the pillows you found your eyes were growing heavy without your consent and you fell asleep. 

When you woke later it was with a start and a pressure pressed against your entire body, one that was vibrating as it laughed. Just as quickly your eyes flew open and landed on your boyfriend, all too amused with himself and face shoved into the crook of your neck as he continued to shake in his absolute mirth. 

Finally, he stopped, just long enough so he could peak up at you and the faint mumbling against your skin could be deciphered. “Did you miss me?” 

“I always miss you,” you assure, bringing a hand up to run it through his fluffy hair. “But I’m also starting to miss sleep.” 

He said nothing, only pressing a series of too-quick kisses against whatever exposed skin he could reach. The actions leaving you a squirming mess under him as you tried desperately to avoid his attacks, finding yourself short of breath soon enough. 

“Bart please, please stop,” you gasped out, one hand trying to pull his head back by his hair, knowing you weren’t hurting him too much, and the other trying to shove him back by one of his shoulders. It did little to dissuade him, his onslaught continued until there were tears in the corners of your eyes and you could no longer beg for him to show mercy. It shouldn’t have tickled you too much, and perhaps you should have seen it coming, but it was the very speed that he left those feather light touches, and the hands on your side keeping you from hiding, that made it all the harder to calm down. 

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Bart stilled. His hands were still planted firmly on your sides, but he allowed his body to collapse onto yours. He seemed as content as could be to just rest his head on your chest, looking up at you with faux innocence as though he had not been lovingly tormenting you only moments ago. He was good at that, and he knew it. “Too cute to be mad at” you had said one time, and he had run with it for situations such as this. 

Finally free to take in as much air as our lungs burned for you could finally calm down. With one hand limp at your side, the other that remained webbed through strands of his hair had just enough feeling for you to pull him forward. “Come here,” you murmured, pressing a quick kiss to his lips when he finally complied. When you opened your eyes and pulled away, the only thing that you could see was the elated grin of your partner. 

“What was that for?” 

“A kiss tax, you have to pay a kiss tax now.” 

Bart cocked his brow at you. “What am I paying for?” 

“For tickling me, you menace. And maybe I’ll make you pay another one for being cute.” 

“What if I don’t want to pay the tax?” 

“Sorry,” you huffed, a gentle hand to his cheek, “no tax fraud allowed.” 

Bart only laughed, following your gentle pull before kissing you once again. “For being attractive?” 

You rolled your eyes at his words, moving to correct him swiftly. “For being criminally cute.” 

“I think I can live with the kiss tax, even if it’s just to get you to start kisses more.” 

You waved him aside, knowing it wasn’t a rude jab. Bart had known about your shy nature and your hesitance at giving physical affection on that level. It was well discussed. But it did not stop him from poking fun at it on the rare occasion. 

But what you had not known that day, after fully deciding to lean into the kiss tax idea - because your boyfriend deserved it, and always made time to give you what physical affection he could, including a goodbye kiss before every mission – was just how happy it would make Bart. And just how eager he would be to pay said tax for each little thing. 

But three weeks later it was resoundingly clear to you. 

Bart had always been the more affectionate of the two of you – not that it wasn’t mutual. But he had never shied away from asking or surprising you with hugs or a quick kiss, he gave compliments like he needed to do so to breathe. It was a pre-fight good luck charm for him to find you wherever you were and kiss you before he had to go unless he did not have the time. Hand holding, domestic mornings just cuddling in bed, hyping you up to those around you. It was just the way he was. 

And in private you returned his affections. Your own flustered nature leaving you stuttered over it in the company of others. You enjoyed it nonetheless. 

But now Bart had gotten a taste of you regularly starting these moments, and he was enjoying it. 

“Can you hand me that water?” he called, puppy dog eyes on full display as he stared longingly at the bottle from over the bed of the couch. 

You could only shake your head at his antics before bringing it to him, still partially distracted by something you had been reading on your phone; Anita had been recorded during one of her saves recently and you were checking the highlights, mentally reminding yourself to congratulate her later. Your train of thought was interrupted when Bart cleared his throat. Puzzled, you stopped, looking at him in a silent question of what was wrong. 

“I have to pay the tax, don’t I?” 

You could feel the way your lips twitched up at the corner. You couldn’t miss the chance to mess with him. “I don’t know if I'll be collecting any tax on water.” 

He looked like a kicked puppy almost immediately. He would put Dox to shame with the sad eyes he was pulling. 

“But you took tax the other day.” 

You could only roll your eyes before motioning him forward, the air knocked from your lungs when he practically threw himself over your lap. So much for reading the rest of the article, you mused, tossing your phone aside. You took a moment and just squished his face between your hands, earning a grumble as he turned away to break your hold. “Alright,” you said, relenting at last, “come here you big baby.” 

Bart was more than happy to oblige, stealing a kiss faster than you could even register the act. 

But when he pulled back, he had that look on his face you sometimes found you would regret later, like he knew something, or was planning something. You ignored it, knowing full and well that if he wanted to keep his secrets for the time he would, especially if he thought it would make the payout all the better. 

The best you could do was enjoy the tranquility of the moment and resign yourself to whatever fate awaited you. 

That fate, as you found out only hours later, was Bart now flipping the script on you. 

Where it had previously been you requesting a kiss tax before letting him into your bedroom, Bart now stood in front of it, puffed out and taking up as much space as he could. “You need to pay the tax, sorry babe.” 

You snorted and crossed your arms. “I need to pay the tax in my own place?” 

“Don’t you do that already?” 

Your arms drop to your sides as you sigh. “Alright, come here, you.” You pull him forward and give him a kiss, before ducking under him and making for the kitchen before he can change just how much tax you owe. Not that trying to outrun him has ever worked in your favor before anyways, but it always seems to make the both of you laugh, and that’s enough. 

But his demands for kisses don’t stop there, and you find that Bart seems to have found a new past time – finding what things he can still do for you and still be able to collect tax. It isn’t every time, thankfully, so it keeps you on your toes enough. Nor does it seem to diminish just how excited that he gets each time you still make him pay with a quick kiss as well. 

That’s good, because the way he lights up is something that you’re hoping you get to see for a long time to come still. 

An admission you let slip after stealing another kiss when he tries to pull you in to cuddle. 

Bart seems to go completely soft at that, eyes half lidded, and arms thrown around your waist so he can pull away long enough to just watch you for the moment. “Anybody saying you can’t?” 

“No, but I wanted you to know. I don’t always tell you as much as I maybe should.” 

Bart breaks out in a smile there – he could put the sun to shame – but it’s just as soft as it is bright. “You show me all the time.” 

You can only raise a brow at that. “Really?” 

“You do,” he insists, pulling you closer. “It didn’t take me that long to figure out how you show it.” 

It's like a weight you didn’t know had been there is lifted when he says that. The kiss tax had been in part to show him that you cared just as much, and knowing that he already knew? It put you at ease. Enough so that you quickly found yourself curling into his chest to be lulled asleep by his heartbeat, aware he wasn’t far behind you. 

[blue-siphoned]

Heart Stops - Bart Allen x Meta!Reader

Word Count: 1,731

Summary: The last anyone sees of you, it isn’t good. The fight goes south and any communication with you goes dark the moment the ceiling caves in on top of you. Bart is fast, faster than anyone on his team, but with a bum leg he feels like he won’t be fast enough as he searches for you among the aftermath.

Notes: The request from an anonymous user was for a Spiderwoman like character, but I do not do crossovers or gender specific (if I can help it). So, I gave the reader Spiderverse like powers and made them a meta. There was no prompt after that, so I used another “100 kisses” prompt: #86; “reunion kisses, “I thought you were dead.’”

…★…

It was supposed to be an easy mission. That was what had been murmured between the two of you as you had loaded up alongside your teammates and taken off for your mission. A soft squeeze of your hand in his was the last bit of physical contact that you had with him. 

It was supposed to be easy. 

It never was. 

Granted, you thought as you saw the ceiling give way and come rushing towards you, things never seemed this bad. You tried to move, weaving through jagged stone that cut at your suit and skin where it came in contact with you, but you just weren’t fast enough. The injury to your knee and upper leg significantly slowing you down. As if your entire body wasn’t screaming at you from how you had been tossed around like a rag doll by the enemy between leaping from one wall to another – using an excess of webs and movement. 

Everything was autopilot by this point. The aim of your arm and wrist, the twist of your hips. The world was hazy behind your mask, eyes bleary and unfocused. It was all you could do to just keep chanting to yourself, a repeat reminder that you just had to make it to the entrance of the collapsing building where you could already see the rest of your team. You focused on Bart the best you could, your heart twisting at the state he was in. One of his arms was slung over Wondergirl’s shoulders, supporting his entire weight as his head hung and he limped beside her, glancing around. You weren’t sure what he was searching for until a moment later when he looked in your direction and stopped, leaning forward like he was going to take off running and come get you. 

There was a voice, rasped and worn, yelling out for him to stay put. A moment later you realized it was your own. A desperate plea to try and keep your partner safe. He was in no shape to run, and if you were going to get caught under the rubble, you were going to make sure that he was a safe distance away. He wouldn’t be fast enough like this, you knew it, especially not if he was dragging you out with him. 

All you could think of was the one last swing you needed to throw yourself out. Just before your wrist was yanked back violently and your whole body lurched backwards, right towards the center of the chaos. One of the men you had been fighting earlier hadn’t escaped, too focused on taking one of you down with him – and since you were the only one left, his sights were set on making sure you would never walk back out alive. 

It was terrifying, you thought, mind spinning too fast to really comprehend that you needed to move from the building raining down upon you as your body hit the stone floor and metal scraps. 

It was terrifying to watch, and Bart had ripped himself away from Wondergirl before the stone had even encased you. But with his leg busted all the way up to his hip he collapsed almost immediately, grabbed by Beast Boy just in time. He wanted to scream your name, but his voice was caught in his throat, and nothing more than a garbled cry came out. 

Everyone stood still for a moment, but that was all the time to pass before everyone who could move was lunging forward and heading for the rubble. Nobody said a word. Nobody needed to. They had all seen roughly the last spot you had landed, and really it was all the information that they needed. 

Someone, Terra, Bart realized absently, was putting in a call for backup. “One down” was all he heard before he limped forward, determined to find you, even if it meant he would have to dig all night. 

He would. Without a second thought, Bart would. Just like he knew that you would do the same. 

It quickly became frustrating, however. His arms and hands could move just as fast as before, but he couldn’t get his feet to work alongside him. Barry was off world, so that wasn’t an option at the moment, and Jay likely wouldn’t be told. But this was time sensitive. You could take a beating, Bart knew that, but you were already so tired. 

He had kept an eye on you through the fight, moving you himself when he could. But it was clear just how quickly you had been injured and worn down. 

And Bart feared that if they couldn’t move the stone fast enough, that super strength wouldn’t matter. If it even mattered now. 

It was a thought he wanted to tear apart immediately. It sat like bile in his throat. That devastating little whisper of “it’s too late.” 

But he wasn’t going to accept that. You had a family to go home to. The two of you had a date that weekend – watching bad retro movies and eating junk food until the morning light streamed in. You had things that you wanted to do. And Bart wanted to see them happen. So that voice in his head was just going to need to be wrong. He was going to be fast enough. And you were going to be okay. 

You had to be. 

Bart didn’t even register the arrival of Superman. Not until the first boulder went crashing down behind them; it startled him as he looked up, bewildered just like the rest of his team. It seemed to be the call just before the rest of the League arrived. But as much of a blessing as it seems to be, Bart finds himself being pulled away by Black Canary a short few moments later to tend to his leg before it has time to heal back fully, before they can set it right. 

So, Bart can’t see you, can’t see anything outside, when he hears over the commlink that they found you. That you’re unresponsive. And after that everything seems to go by in a blur as they rush you back to the medical wing through boom tube, because your chances are slim without immediate intervention. 

That is how the next three days go. Bart barred from the room while you recover, still in critical condition. It doesn’t stop him from camping out in front of the door, however, his own leg long since healed and nothing to keep him on bed rest. 

Unable to convince him otherwise, and your status slowly ticking upwards, the Leaguers charged with your recovery finally relent, allowing Bart at your bedside where he promptly refuses to move, keeping a hawk's eye on your vitals. This at least placates the speedster, for the time being, but everyone knows it won't be better until you finally wake up. 

You’re still a long way off from being better, so when Bart feels you squeeze his hand, waking him from his half-asleep state, he thinks little of it. Until you do so again, this time refusing to let go as you let out a pitiful groan. 

He’s sat up straight in an instant. “Take it easy, hot shot.” 

His voice is enough to stir you, but you still look comical squinting at him in the dim lights. In your defense, you felt like you had just been hit by a truck. Or had a ceiling collapse on top of you. “I feel terrible,” you groan, your one free hand barely working enough for you to cover your eyes. 

“You’ve had better days.” 

You can hear the way Bart’s voice cracks, that little sniffle – and light be damned – you pull your arm away to take a good long look at him. He has dark bags under his eyes, and you can see old tear tracks on his cheek. More importantly, you can see the fresh ones threatening to fall. It has you breathless for a moment, your heart tight as you take in the way your partner looks so small in front of you. A rarity. One you’re happy to not subject him to on a regular basis. “That bad?” 

Bart sniffles once more, looking down at where your hand lays in his before he covers your own completely with his other. “You gave us plenty of scares these last few days. I couldn’t even come in here.” 

It breaks your heart to see him like this, and you do your best to add a bit more pressure where your hands are linked. “I’m awake now though. I’m gonna be okay.” Your words don’t seem to get through to him for the moment, so you tug at his hand, trying to get him to look you in the eye. “Bart, baby, what’s wrong?” 

The breath he lets out is choked, and it takes another minute before he can get his words out, practically spilling onto the bed next to you as the relief finally takes hold. “I thought you were dead.” 

It catches you off guard, but despite the pain you never even consider shoving him away when he drapes himself on top of you. It feels right. Feels safe. Even if you can feel the way he tenses, trying not to shake. “Bart?” 

“I really thought you were dead. When nobody could get to you.” His voice raises for a millisecond, but when you flinch from the way it makes your head throb, he manages to get it back under control. “When I couldn’t get to you.” 

All you can do is hold him for a moment and let him get himself under control – he hates crying in front of others and you know it, so you pretend that you don’t see it. But when the shaking has subsided, at least for that second, you manage to catch his eye. “I’m not going anywhere now.” 

Bart stalls for a moment before flashing that loving little grin that he gives you when he’s trying to make you both feel better, before nodding his head in agreement and leaning forward. 

You might be sore, but you waste no time in closing the distance to kiss your speedster. After all, you have a few days' worth of kisses to plant on him, until you really see that sunshine smile you love so much.

[blue-siphoned]

ok so i'm convinced that azriel is extremely sensual with his hands. and i mean touchy. and slow. and intentional. let me explain myself:

putting your hand on azriel's thigh during dinner, and he reaches down to slowly move your hand up, closer and closer to where he wants your grip the most, teasing you. all very nonchalantly too - he's doing this while also scooping a bite of food into his mouth and carrying on a conversation with the others at the table.

or

being friends with very obvious benefits, but trying your hardest to hide it from his family. sneaking around late at night to each other's rooms.

cassian knocked on the door one particular evening, right when azriel had decided to push you up against the adjacent wall, your legs wrapped around his waist, his hands touching every part of you that he could possibly reach. he was holding you up with his hips. it was sloppy, messy, urgent.

az bit at the side of your jaw playfully before pulling away, placing a single pointer finger on top of your lips in a request for you to be completely silent. he pulled away from you, placing you back on the floor, before walking over to the door with disheveled hair. to be sure that you'd be completely silent and unheard by cass, azriel had placed his entire hand over your mouth. his arm stretched across the wall while you stood mere inches away from cassian on the other side. it was commanding, dominant, sexy.

once again, he was so nonchalant. having an entire conversation with his unknowing brother in the threshold of his doorway.

once the conversation was over, and the door was shut and locked again, he'd pulled his hand from your mouth, mumbling a deep, "my darling girl," in praise before picking up where he left off.

or

azriel sitting next to you at the dinner table, his arm draped loosely over the back of your chair. his gentle hand twirling through the ends of your hair while he debriefed with rhys and mor. letting the hair fall against the skin of your bare back before he'd scoop it up again, sensual and sultry and slow. fingers trailing up your skin and drawing shapes against the nape of your neck, his touch featherlight.

or

draping a leg over azriel's lap in a booth at rita's, the act so comfortable and familiar.

azriel grabbing your other leg too, pulling it up to join the one you'd placed there yourself. his hands resting atop both of your legs, rubbing and squeezing and lightly scratching your skin.

or

you placing a hand on az's bare chest after he bathes, his skin damp, water droplets tumbling down his torso. he stills for a moment before gently grabbing your wrist, guiding your hand all the way down his abs and lower stomach, the movement painfully slow. his breath hitching as he drops his gaze to watch the action with darkened eyes.

OR

feeding azriel from across the table, him making heated eye contact the whole time. once he takes the bite, he grabs your wrist gently and begins placing kisses all over your hands, fingers, knuckles, wrist.

ORRR

azriel perched next to you in the sitting room on a night in with the family, him reaching over and wrapping a gentle hand around your throat to pull you towards him so he can whisper something against the shell of your ear.

yeah idk. i think az is so touchy once he's comfortable with someone. and he knows what he's doing every single time.

a/n: don't mind me. i'm down bad. this is literal word vomit so just. ignore if it's shitty lmao.

[blue-siphoned]

What am I doing with my life.

Based on this post by @fattuccini-afraido

[blue-siphoned]

What am I doing with my life.

Based on this post by @fattuccini-afraido

[blue-siphoned]

IM DESPERATE! Please i beg of you…i have yet to see a patronus fic!

Sebastian x fem mc? And seb and mc learn the patronus charm with Hecat? And Seb later realizes that his patronus is the same as mc’s? Because he loves and cares for her like Snape with Lily. Just some fluff and confessions whatever you choose.

Hi Friend!! Thank you so much for the request and apologies for the delay.

So I may have changed the idea a bit, since your idea got the cogs turning in my head... I hope it's okay! Not my best work, but I wanted to take a stab at it.

(PS: Fun fact, my patronus is rat. Don't ask me why, I have no clue)

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: None!

Sebastian felt more nervous than usual sitting next to Y/N in class. Although he knew that his face would never betray him, he could never be too sure. This class was perhaps the closest he’d get to accidentally admitting his love for his best friend.

Though Sebastian had be in love with her since the fifth year and the fateful day that they took down a troll together in Hogsmeade, he had yet to admit his feelings to her. He wasn’t Gryffindor, so why would anyone expect him to be brave?

Ominis certainly expressed his distaste for the way Sebastian went about things. He often pointed out that Sebastian appeared to have no issues flirting with Y/N, so he didn’t understand why making the jump to asking her on a date was so difficult.

To Sebastian, however, it was difficult. In fact, the jump seemed worse than trying to jump over the entire Grand Canyon. The risk that their whole friendship could be ruined if he chose to admit his feelings was too great. He couldn’t imagine a life without her in it, even if only as a friend.Thus, he sat next to y/n in DADA, usually quiet as Hecat explained that they would be learning how to cast a Patronus that day.

His skin turned clammy as she explained that sometimes if someone loved someone enough, their Patronus could become the same as their beloved. He had previously known all this information, but hearing it out loud, especially from Hecat, just cemented the idea in his mind. Thankfully, Y/N didn’t seem to notice all the blood that had drained from Sebastian’s face. Rather, she just looked excited about learning a new spell, a trait she hadn’t stopped exhibiting since she first set foot instead Hogwarts almost 2 years ago to the day.

Sebastian tried his best not to look like he wanted to run. Trying to plan what the best course of action would be was difficult, especially when he couldn’t just bolt out of class.

Thankfully for Sebastian, he already knew what his Patronus was - a fox - and he had known since 4th year. Back then, he decided to learn how to cast one after finding a random book in the library that was much too advanced for his level of magic; it was a often occurrence, much to Ominis’s dismay. Per usual, Sebastian had stolen away the book to the undercroft until he could cast the spell perfectly, a silver fox enjoying hiding between the many crates that were stacked hapzardly in the corners.

Sebastian, trying his best to think on his feet, decided that the best course of action was to insist that she try to cast a Patronus first. After all, this was Y/N he was thinking about. Given she was certainly the most powerful witch in their year, and most likely ever, there was no way that she would have trouble casting one on the first try.

Once Hecat told them to break up into pairs, Sebastian turned to Y/N flashing her a small smile. “How about you go first - I don’t feel like being embarrassed by my inability to cast one quite yet.” Y/N quirked an eyebrow at that, studying his face.

“What do you mean? Have you tried to cast one before?” Sebastian looked down at the table, trying his best to turn his look of nervousness into one that could pass off as embarrassment.

“Yes, actually. During 4th year, Ominis and I found a book about Patronuses. We both tried to cast one. I never could - tried again a couple of months ago and still couldn’t.” Sebastian felt the sweat pooling at his collar, hoping that she couldn’t see through the white lie. Honestly, it was the best that he could come up with when put on the spot. Thankfully, Y/N seemed to buy it, offering him a small smile in return.

I’m sure you’ll get it eventually! You just need to practice.” Sebastian nodded a little too quickly in agreement, before prompting her to get on with her practice. Y/N took one more look at him, offering a kind smile, before turning towards the front of the class and closing her eyes.

The thought passed over Sebastian’s consciousness for only a second, wondering what her happiest memory was. However, that was short-lived as a silvery creature erupted from her wand. For a moment, Sebastian was in awe. The feeling quickly turned to immense worry as he realized her patronus was none other than a fox.

When Sebastian turned to look at her, the smile on her face was massive. She turned to look at him, the joy evident in her eyes. “Look Sebastian! I did it!” He smiled weakly at her, nodding his head.

“T-That… That you did.”

“Now it's your turn!” She exclaimed as she tucked her wand into the pocket of her robe, the fox disappearing into the mist. Sebastian pulled on his collar a bit, feeling much too hot. He knew that there was no way to get out of this without at least pretending to cast a Patronus, so he tried to think of the least happy memory he could. Pulling out his wand, he pretended to cast it. To his relief, some silvery sparks shot out, but nothing of substance. He quickly shrugged, putting his wand away as he turned to meet Y/N’s disappointed expression.

“Well, I guess it just isn’t meant to be.” He laughed nervously, incredibly thankful when Hecat dismissed the class a moment later.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Sebastian felt like he had dogged a bullet, as he sat at the Slytherin table the next day. Y/N hadn’t found out about his feelings for her and thus everything could return to normal.

At least, he felt that relief until he saw a streak of (y/h/c) hair, running towards him like a mad woman. By the time she reached him, Y/N slammed her hands down on the Slytherin table hard enough to startle even Ominis. She looked out of breath, her hair sticky at odd angles that Sebastian would typically find rather endearing if he wasn’t so concerned about what this sudden rushed appearance was for.

“Hi beautiful- Did something happen?” Sebastian asked, honestly a bit concerned at her apparent urgency.

“I figured it out!” Sebastian's confusion grew a bit, as he noticed the large smile donned on her beautiful lips.

“Figured what out, exactly?”

“Why you can’t cast a patronus!” Sebastian felt the blood drain from his face yet again, his leg beginning to bounce nervously under the table. The sound from it was apparently loud enough that Ominis felt the need to place a hand on it, trying to stop the movement.

“What do you mean… you figured out why I can’t cast a patronus?” Y/N offered him an excited smile, nearly bouncing in place, practically matching the pace of his knee.

“You don’t have a happy enough memory that you can think of- You’re so brutish all the time it’s difficult for you to come up with something on the fly.” Sebastian tried his best not to look offended at the comment, as he shook his head.

“I don’t think that I’m that depressing all of the time-” Ominis cut him off a moment later.

“Yes Sebastian… You are. We all know it.” If Ominis could see, he would have witnessed the death glare of the century being shot in his direction. Y/N didn’t seem to pick up on their silent communication, the huge smile still covering her face. Sebastian shook his head at the girl, trying his best to act nonchalant.

“You really don’t need to go to all that trouble Y/N. As far as I’m concerned, I’m quite happy not being able to cast a patronus. Besides, I have a lot of studying to do today.” Y/N and Ominis both looked confused at that.

“It’s Saturday Sebastian… You hardly ever study on Saturday. Besides, I know for a fact you don’t have any exams next week. So, therefore you’re going to Hogsmeade with me! Meet me in an hour out in the viaduct courtyard.

With that, Y/N skipped off and Sebastian let out a deep sigh. He realized then that there was absolutely no way he was getting out of this.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

One ice cream, two butter beers, and a pack of every flavored beans later, Sebastian was very full and very conflicted. On one hand, he had greatly enjoyed having this dedicated time to spend with Y/N. On the other, he was growing ever more nervous, knowing that with each passing hour their return to the castle was imminent, along with her “lesson” on casting a Patronus. But, he tried not to focus on that at the moment as the two strolled along at a comfortable pace, inhaling the crisp autumnal air.

“So, are you enjoying yourself yet?” Y/N flashed him a warm smile, one that made him question if lying to her was ever the appropriate thing to do.

“I think so. It’s definitely been a nice change of pace for the day.” Y/N frowned slightly at that, the wheels turning in her head.

“Well… I was looking for it to be the best day. But I suppose I really didn’t try that hard, did I?” Sebastian shrugged slightly, shivering a bit as a stray breeze brushed the back of his exposed neck.

“I mean, I had fun. I’m not really sure what else we could do on such short notice.” Y/N’s frown grew bigger, as the cobblestones beneath her feet suddenly became very interesting. Sebastian bristled a bit, worried that he had perhaps said the wrong thing. Eventually, Y/N did look up and meet his gaze again - but this time, with one of her sly smiles. It was the type of smile that said she had hatched a new plan. Sebastian gulped, honestly worried that perhaps she would catch on eventually that he was trying to get out of it. “What’s that look for?”

“How about we do something else you like? Wanna go fight a troll? Break up a camp of poachers… maybe even goblins?” Sebastian shook his head almost too quickly. As much as he loved getting to test out his dueling skills, he was worried that this was going a bit to far. Besides, he’d rather not put her in danger to just to try and make him ‘happy’.

“I think it might be best if we just head back to the castle now. Like I said, I have some studying to do and I really need to get started on my 6 inches of parchment for-” Y/N’s look cut him off from rambling, as if she could see right through his excuses.

“Did you forget about practicing your Patronus? If we head back now, hopefully in an hour we should be done and you can get back to that studying time you apparently so desperately need.” Sebastian let out a defeated sigh as he followed her down the path, back toward Hogwarts, dried leaves crunching beneath their feet.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N had decided that the room of requirement would be the perfect place to practice. After pushing some of the furniture that was so very her off to the side, she stood in front of Sebastian, studying his form intently. Sebastian flushed under her gaze, trying to not let it affect him as much as it did. Once Y/N had determined everything was perfect, she walked over to stand by Sebastian’s side, facing the same direction as him.

“Alright, give it a go!” Sebastian fought the urge to squirm, as he tried his best to think of his most uncomfortable memories again — a few stray silver wisps shot from his wand, but nothing substantial. It was all he could do to not release a sigh of relief at the sight, as he quickly moved to stuff his wand in his pocket.

“Well! I guess that’s that, no Patronus’s for me!” He turned on his heel a little too quickly, fighting the urge to make a run for the door. Y/N quickly reached out and grabbed his arm, Sebastian stilling at the touch before glancing at her.

“Not so fast their solider. I know you can get it.” She offered him an encouraging smile, and Sebastian knew he was damned. He let out a sigh, turning around again, raising his wand to try and again. Expect this time, he felt the gentle caress of her hands on his foreman and shoulder. She was holding him in the correct form that Hecat had demonstrated. Sebastian felt his skin burn at the touch, willing his heartbeat to slow down out of the fear that she may be able to hear it. “There, that’s the right pose. Relax, you’re so tense…” She positioned his shoulders down a bit, into a more relaxed form. Sebastian gulped, knowing that with her touching him - something he had craved for such a long time - he couldn’t possibly think of uncomfortable memories now.

Thus, he cast the spell, squeezing his eyes shut once he saw the playful fox erupt from the tip of his wand. To his dismay, he felt her hands remove themselves from him - a sign that she was certainly taking this negatively.

He took a couple more seconds to calm the anxiety blooming in his chest before he finally opened his eyes to look at her. To his surprise, she stood right next to him, a grin covering her face as she watched the fox leap around the room. She looked… happy? Certainly not the reaction that Sebastian expected.

“I knew it!” She exclaimed, causing Sebastian to freeze.

“You… You knew it?” She nodded vigorously, turning to face him directly.

“Well… At least I had a hunch. To be honest, I actually knew how to cast a Patronus before class this week. Professor Fig taught me in fifth year.” A slight wave of sadness passed over her features as she recalled her beloved mentor, but she quickly fought it away. “It used to be a rabbit. But when I saw it had changed in Hecat’s class… Well, I figured it changed to match yours.” Sebastian’s eyebrows shot up, as he studied her with confusion.

“I… Why would it match mine?” It was now her turn to flush at the question, her eyes refusing to meet his gaze and instead playing with the hem of her skirt.

“Well… Because I have feelings for you, Sebastian. I have for quite a while.” She offered him an uncharacteristically shy smile, studying his face for a reaction. “I’m sorry for pressuring you into casting a Patronus. I just… I wanted to make sure before I potentially did something to ruin our friendship.”

Sebastian looked so shocked that he could almost follow over. She had feelings? For him, nonetheless? His body acted before his brain could, as he suddenly reached out and grabbed her, pulling her into his chest, and hugging her tightly. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, the butterflies in his stomach dancing rapidly.

“I… I have feelings for you too Y/N. I have since we brought down that troll together in Hogsmeade if I’m being quite honest.” To his dismay, he felt her shift slightly in his arms. She looked up at him, mere inches away from his face, her gaze traveling down to his lips.

“Well, I’m glad to hear the sentiment is returned. Now, would it perhaps be too much to ask you to get on with it and kiss me now? As much as I appreciate the confession I-” She didn’t get another syllable out before his lips crashed against hers, fulfilling the desire he had for years.

He couldn’t wait to personally write Hecat a thank you note for deciding to teach them how to cast a Patronus.

[blue-siphoned]

never not been mine (s.s)

Plot | Everyone wonders if you and Sebastian are together. Sebastian wonders when will everyone mind their own business.

Tags | fluff, cheesy pining, we're not together or are we, cranky!seb, slytherin!reader, curses, threats, prejudice, seeker!seb for the plot, established relationship (kinda), when you love her so much it drives you insane, seb and reader are shit seniors is my headcannon

[Disclaimer | I borrowed a scene from "no hard feelings" because it was trending on tiktok lol. Also a portion of this is heavily inspired by 'The Alchemy' by Taylor Swift'. Photos not mine.]

“Just one drink – butterbeers on me!”

You couldn’t help but smile at the eager nameless hopeful in front of you.

The wince from his two friends at the other edge of the common room was apparent at your periphery. You had to give it to him, he’s lasted longer than the others. Usually, most would be walking away with their egos bruised when greeted with your disinterest.

“Not like you have any … pending appointments, don’t you?” He tried to maintain his bravado, even taking a step closer to the loveseat you were sitting on by the fire.

Call it an instinct, a bond only kindred spirits that have tethered in-between life and death together would have, but you could almost feel him – not needing to see him to recognize the heavy steps on the stone stairs, the deep sigh as he impatiently scours the common room in search of you, and the inevitable crinkle that forms in-between his eyebrows when he sees someone else in your vicinity.

You smile.

“I have one,” you muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

His smirk faltered, eyebrows meeting, “A boyfriend?”

You shook your head.

“Pending appointments,” you grin.

His body comically cloaked the significantly shorter boy from behind.

“There you are.”

Sebastian barely glanced at the 6th year in front of you even when their shoulders bumped, making the student stumble. On instinct, you moved your legs to the side so Sebastian could curl up on the floor, his head finding comfort on the meat of your covered thigh, callused hands curling on your calf as he slumped into your lap.

His hair was still dripping sweat, the quidditch uniform he had on covered with muck and dirt and a spattering of blood, and yet here he was, shamelessly sharing his mess with your clothes. You can almost hear Ominis’ disapproving voice, ‘He's a spoiled dog!’.

Ah, but how could you not when he seemed to be cursed at being so good at everything and yet so miserable doing anything else but spending his time with you. Even you can’t be that heartless.

You ran your hands on his damp hair, making sure to press your fingers on his scalp, unable to stop the soft coos from coming out of your mouth. Sebastian had always needed extra attention after his drills with Imelda, the latter determined to tun him into her very own secret weapon of destruction for this upcoming Quidditch season.

This, in turn, had cut his time with you to his utter despair.

“Can we help you?” You were too busy tending to him that you hadn’t realized you still had an audience. Your pet wasn’t the friendliest, especially with strangers of the opposite sex that stares at you.

“N-No, I was just – we were having a conversa –”

Sebastian frowned, the boy took a step back, you place a halting hand on his shoulder.  

“I’ll,” you’re sure even this silly one knows of your Sebastian’s temperament. He wasn’t necessarily the type to be awarded as The Friendliest Senior of the Year.

(“You were nice to me the first time we met.” “Maybe I’m only nice to pretty witches.”)

“I’ll just talk to you later when you’re free.”

“Or not,” Sebastian deadpanned, his grip on your calf tightening, eyebrows meeting.

“Surely it couldn’t hurt–”

“Could hurt.”

“Sebastian.”

It was a pitiful sight but you’ve spared the boy a fate worse than a bruised pride as he muttered a clanky goodbye before turning his back the two of you. Sebastian still glowering at his fleeing back.

“Do you have to be so mean?” you half-heartedly admonished him, patting his freckled cheeks. He really is so handsome, easily the most eligible bachelor in your batch, biased opinion aside.

“Maybe I haven’t been mean enough if they still approach you,” he muttered, clearly still annoyed. His eyes shift from one boy to another accusatorially like if he stared long enough, he’ll catch them in the act of being interested after you and deliver the right sentence as an example.

After the events with Ranrok, high society quickly set its eyes on you. He thought he had nipped it in the bud, sending scathing letters back to prideful pureblood boys for their gall to direct formal letters of engagement to you, audaciously sticking by your side at all times, and severely punishing anyone who dared to even think of courting you. (One even tried to challenge him to a duel. It was barely entertaining, almost downright cruel. Sebastian hopes that the boy is enjoying Ilvermorny.)

Truly, he has his work cut out for him.

Your giggle pulled him out of his unpleasant thoughts, “You should go shower, it’s about to be dinner time.”

He hummed, “Can I use The Room? Hate the boy’s lavatory, ‘s a mess.”

You ignore the quick turning of heads of the students nearest you, trying not to laugh at their scandalized faces, aware of how bad it sounded. Instead, you let him stand and take your hand as he bitterly shared his hypothesis that Imelda was a dark wizard planted to torment him while he led you to the familiar steps toward the Room of Requirement.

On the other side of the room, the rejected boy glared at his sniggering friends.

“You told me they weren’t courting!” he accused.

“In my defense,” his friend shrugged, giggling at the spectacular explosion in front of her very eyes. Who would’ve thought Sebastian Sallow would catch the idiot in the act. “They aren’t but everyone knows they’re ... exclusive.”

“Exclusive?”

“We warned you! I warned you!” Their other friend, the more level-headed one was exasperated. “I’m so bloody terrified of Sallow I don’t even dare to look in her direction! Do you know there are rumors of him mastering forbidden spells? It’s why he had practically spent the entire half of 6th year serving a mysterious detention service for Professor Hecate.”

His other two friend looked at him in doubt. “I thought that was because he bombarda-ed the pants out of that Ravenclaw after he was challenged to a duel –”

“Regardless! He’s dangerous!”

“But are they dating or not?”

“No one knows, okay? That’s like in the Hogwarts top 3 mysteries.” The girl snipped.

“I may know someone who might know.”

Two heads swiveled to the boy who was already staring at a regal silhouette, sitting peacefully on the couch nearest the windows and furthest from any other person in the large common room – simultaneously seeming peaceful and brooding at the same time. As if feeling their gaze on him his unseeing eyes suddenly snapped in their direction, the boys physically flinched, the girl even covering her mouth to hide a gasp as they quickly vacated their spot before they truly tested their luck with the 7th-year Head Boy.

Ominis Gaunt.

The three sighed, resigned to leave that stone unturned.

“Guess we’ll never know.”

Sebastian flustered at the pretty boxes wrapped in silk, laces, and ribbons being shoved to his face, hand rubbing the back of his neck in a mix of embarrassment and honor.

He’s mostly gotten used to the numerous attention he receives but the abrupt surge of volume between his 6th and 7th year sometimes still gives him whiplash. It’s amazing what a growth spurt can do in your social standing.

“Thank you, ladies. I really appreciate it.” He flashed them a polite smile, genuinely flattered and touched at the thoughtful presents even if they are a bit overeager.

Swoons and giggles erupted from the small crowd, so dramatic yet so entertaining.

“Excuse me, Sebastian?”

From the middle of the crowd, Blaine Marune a fellow 7th year pushed herself to the front. She was a popular girl, sought after by many of his teammates. He cocked a brow at her Slytherin shirt when she was a Gryffindor, the team Sebastian was playing against. Was she dating someone on his team?

“Can you sign my shirt?”

Gasps scattered on the ground at her bold request, especially since she stretched out her shirt so the space by her chest was extended. He had to give it to these Gryffindors, they sure do live up to their name.

“Your girlfriend wouldn’t mind, would she?”

He frowned at the implication, suddenly hating the inquisitive eyes snapping between them, clearly curious as to his status. “That’s –”

“She’s here! Look!” A voice from behind the crowd gasped.

Sebastian swiftly turned his head, barely catching your eyes just as you slipped inside the tower that held the stairs to the bleachers up above. Mindlessly, he forgot all about the little scene that was unfolding between him and the Gryffindor and turned away from his gaggle of admirers to walk to the edge of the field, jumping on his broom to fly in front of you when you seemed to take a wrong turn to the other side of the bleachers.

“Wrong direction, darling. I saved you your seat,” he grinned even as you ignored him, walking a leisure pace as he floated beside you.

“I’m not sitting next to your admirers,” She quipped, still refusing to look at him, marching with a purpose. “Darling.”

She’s jealous. Sebastian beamed, flying closer so he could reach out an arm to stop her steps.

“Don’t be like that,” his words were soft yet the grin in his face couldn’t be tamed even if he did try. “You know I like it when I can see you at all times.”

Giggles and whispers were murmured from the seated crowd behind you.

“She’s here!” “The Felix Felicis is here!” “There’s no way those Gryffindor bastards will beat us now.”

The burn in your face doubled in intensity as you tried your hardest to ignore such embarrassing remarks.

It started with a silly coincidence.

In one of Sebastian’s first games last year, you had been running late, roped in a last-minute hunt for a large Ancient Magic hotspot that had abruptly appeared on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. When you entered the Quidditch Pitch the game was in full swing. However, your entrance had caught Sebastian’s attention which coincidentally also happened to be the moment the Snitch flew straight towards you. It was one of the shortest games in Hogwart’s centuries-long history as he had gotten a hold of it inches away from your face. The team included you in their celebration by throwing the two of you in the air.

From then on, it was duly noted that Sebastian’s performance remarkably improved every time you were in attendance. It didn’t help that the one time you didn’t attend one of his inter-school practice matches they had lost by a couple of points to Durmstrang.

Imelda had damn near made you swear on an Unbreakable Vow that you would watch every single one of their games from then on.

Hence, being Sebastian Sallow’s Felix Felicis became your position and moniker throughout the entirety of Quidditch Season, and as embarrassing as it was, it would seem your usually level-headed friend had either gotten roped in the ridiculous suspicion or was enjoying your obvious mortification a bit too much as he had taken every opportunity to snatch the same damn seat that practically showcased you to the rest of the crowd and in turn ensured he would be able to see you at all times.

“Sallow! We’re about to gather!” Imelda screamed in the middle of the field.

“Give me a second!” He turned to you. “Please, pet?”

Damn him and those brown eyes.

Harshly, you grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him till he was forced to maneuver his broom sideways, face an inch from yours.

“You better not embarrass me,” you threatened, pressing a quick kiss on his cheek before turning on the opposite direction, straight to the seat that had been unofficially yours. Lucky charms get special privileges after all. “I want a photo with that trophy, Sallow.”

Sebastian hovered in the air frozen, hand on his burning skin, until a ball hit him square in the back. “Today, lover boy.”

He gave Imelda an apologetic look before calling over an underclassman.

“You there, 5th year!” The boy was quick to jump out of his seat, heart hammering in his chest at the Seeker’s sudden attention. “Call over Head Boy Gaunt and tell him to make sure no one unpleasant sits in my section.”

The boy nodded, understanding. Everyone knows Sallow’s unofficial section where all his friends from different houses sit – every single one of them as intimidating as him. If he had gotten a galleon for every time a professor mentioned one of them either in praise or in warning on what not to do, he’d rival Ominis Gaunt in wealth.

Most importantly, she would be there. The lucky charm and Sallow’s dearest companion – though jury is still out whether they had been courting all this time or not.

From what he’d seen he’d bet on them getting married by graduation even with the lack of formal courting. They didn’t seem to be the type to care for convention. He had even heard suggestive rumors that they basically sleep in the same room every night, though that has yet to be proven.

“Yes, of course, Sallow!”

Sebastian watched the boy scamper down the stairs, no doubt to relay his message to his dear friend who won’t be too pleased of his misuse of Ominis’ position.

Oh well, all’s well that ends well.

He blows you one last provocative kiss as he departs the stands before he flies up to where the rest of his teammates are positioned, ready for the game to start, pleased with the fact you would be fuming from the attention his grand performance would bring.

A jealous darling would be bad luck after all.

And he had a trophy to win.

“And the Triwizard Champion is Sebastian Sallow from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, House Slytherin!”

Green confetti and fireworks exploded all over the stadium overwhelming Sebastian as he tried to catch his breath and not let his knees buckle under his weight when all the adrenaline left his body. He belatedly realized that the cold, golden trophy had been shoved in his hands not until he was lifted by fellow schoolmates up above their arms in celebration and was staring at his own gobsmacked reflection in the shiny hardware.

More familiar faces and deafening cheers accosted him as he was brought into the section where all Hogwarts students were gathered. Only when he was put back in the ground to be showered with pats, congratulations, and splashing of fizzing butterbeer did his brain finally catch up with the rest of his body.

Immediately, his head started swiveling, looking for the face he needed to see the most, his instincts screaming at him that she was near. She has to be. She promised.

From the back of the crowds – there she was. Her beaming face, humbly waving from behind as if she wasn’t the reason he had fought so hard for this victory – that it really should be in her name and it shall, for he will lay this victory on her feet, first of his many devotion for the rest of their lives.

In haste, he shoved the trophy to the nearest body, uncaring of who was able to grab it as he pushed and shoved anyone on his way to you. The rest of the world blurred. He cared not for the gasps, shrieks, or protests – not when he saw the beam in your smile as you jumped into his arms – the golden ring that was hanging off a simple chain on your neck clanged with the similar one hanging off his own when you jumped into his arms.

The wedding rings he had prepared, ready for the day the two of you turned into adults in the eyes of the law and were permitted to be married. It would be for mere formality, his heart after all had been tied to yours the moment your eyes met.

“I’m so proud of you.”

He’s never felt satisfaction as fulfilling as this moment.

Finally, he has earned it – has earned the right to say it.

“I love you.”

This love was finally his.

The papers were printed in a few days. Bold letters with a bolder headline:

Triwizard Champion and Hero of Hogwarts Secretly Betrothed!?

Right below such an accusatory headline was the photo of the two of you framed almost too perfectly in a café’s window, Sebastian pressing a kiss in the unmistakable diamond ring he had bought with his winnings while you beamed at him.

It has not been a kept secret that many noble families have vied and proposed for the heavy hand of the Hero but all were rebuffed. All but one. Sebastian Sallow, a promising orphan from a fallen house seemed to have Championed the heart of the lady just as he had conquered the challenges of the Triwizard Trials. As remarkable as it is, his distinct lack of proper lineage, colorful history of delinquency, and the whispers of his preference for obscure magic would truly prove to be a challenge he might not be able to slay quite as easily, especially for a bride as coveted as –

“I am going to fucking kill that wench!”

You slammed the newspaper on the table, making Grace choke on her tea just as Ominis winced at your colorful choice of words, quickly conjuring up a silencing charm around your table lest you make it harder for his lawyers if you actually do deliver the threat.

“I know you’re upset –”

You glare at Grace. Upset barely covers it.

Finding that you have not insulted it enough you crumble the bundle of paper in your hand, even going as far as to grab two that a couple of fourth years were reading before throwing them to the fire in a huff, screaming an Incendio on the fireplace just for the satisfaction of seeing it all turn into soot in a blink.

Ominis quickly sends an owl.

She should still be in Hogsmeade, your mind runs. You’ve heard that the unpleasant reporter had made a home in one of the apartments in Hogsmeade once the Tournament started.

It should be easy, you try to suppress your maniacal grin as you turn, marching straight into the stairs that should lead you to the nearest floo, ignoring how quickly the other students parted for you as your head ran all types of scenarios on how you can absolutely gut that waste of space. She had unfairly targeted Sebastian from the start of the games, pointing out flaws on his runs even when he had won the stage, cruelly bringing up his 'upbringing' in Feldcroft, and even bringing up how he wouldn't be able to give it his all while still grieving his twin sister and should be replaced.

That fucking wench.

You’ve had enough practice breaking and entering through the many locks in Hogsmeade to be able to sneak into her abode. A simple hex would be child’s play, maybe you should curse her to lose one finger every time she writes a bad word against your beloved or maybe a limb or you should just do the wizarding world another favor and make her illiterate.

Once you were on the grounds you summoned your broom.

The punishment should fit the crime.

“Levioso.”

Before you could fly you found yourself already levitating up the air, from below Sebastian was way too pleased at your shrieks and foul mood.

“Let me down, Sebastian!” you kicked.

“I would but I would rather we not spend our lives running away from the ministry if you kill that journalist, my love.”

So, he has read it. The fact that he was able to see those vile words made your blood boil harder. Sensing your temper and the fact that you were about to break out of his spell he plays dirty.

“Accio.”

You shriek at the speed but the comfort of his arms was almost enough to quell the itch in your hands to curse that bloody witch into a pulp.

Almost.

He tightens his hug, playfully pulling you off the ground with a grunt and swaying the two of you gently. “Still upset?”

You push your blunt nails on his back and he chuckles. “It doesn’t bother me, you know.”

“It should!” you snap, a blast of your ancient magic smashing a statue to pieces that he quickly fixes with a ‘repairo’ without so much as a glance at the shrieking fifth years that had nearly gotten blasted with it. “It bothers me.”

That they think so lowly of him – him! A man worth ten –  if not hundreds – of those pompous pricks from noble houses who offers nothing but their ‘pure’ blood and rotting riches like it was enough, like it could buy your heart and pride.

If they knew –

If they knew it was him who cleaned your blood and licked the jagged wounds in your spirit in the quiet of your lowest nights, that it was this boy who pulled out the rubble of a girl after the war – carefully piecing it together until you felt like a person and not a hollow husk filled only by nightmares, that it was this lowly orphan they sneer at who had become your chain to your sanity – your family.

Would they still look down at him if they knew it was only his kindness, and his love, and him who stopped you from giving up on them? That if someone as beautiful as him could exist in the wizarding world then it was a world worth saving.

Sebastian frowns at your upset. Ominis had grossly underestimated how the article had affected you, he would be touched if he wasn't so angry.

“It shouldn’t,” he gently carries you like a bride – his bride – under the largest tree by the Beasts Class classroom, away from the prying eyes of a crowd, overlooking the lake. The songs of the breeze and birds were the perfect soothing balm along with his soft coos. “They can write about me all they want at the end of the day it is me who is coming home with you.”

He’s sure you’re aware that his overly sweet words are all to calm you down but you fall for it anyway, smiling on the skin of his neck. “I should have her tongue.”

He shushes you, pressing his fingers on your waist till it tickled, he smiles on your hair when you slap his shoulder. “Don’t you think you’ve terrified the freshmen enough with that mouth of yours.”

It doesn’t escape you that the other students have transferred their fear of Sebastian’s murky past to your present wicker-short temper. You are aware that it is only because of your impeccable grades, immeasurable talent and a sprinkle of Fig’s legacy that the headmaster has not suspended or expelled you for your insolence.

His palms run a soothing patten on your spine, letting you continue to bury your head on the crook of his neck to lull you into a calm.

You suddenly pull yourself away, looking straight at him. “Are you sure you don’t care? I promise I won’t get caught.”

He chuckles at that, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head before leaning back on the trunk of the tree, pulling you closer to him.

“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “As long as you still plan on marrying me nothing will ever bother me at all.”

“I reckon she's calmed down?”

Sebastian doesn’t bother to mask his stormy expression now that you have fallen into a nap, sparing Ominis a glance as he sits on one of the empty wooden crates.

“I was sure I’d catch the two of you digging up a shallow grave by now.”

Sebastian glances down at you, shaking his head. “Haven't you heard? I’m a changed man.”

Ominis chuckles at that. “Well, their vile words shouldn’t matter anyhow,” Ominis sighs, grateful at least that this betrothal had managed to calm at least one of his dearest friends down. “She’s yours now.”

The boy’s words made Sebastian think.

Think back to the first time he met you: the curiosity, the anticipation, the instant tug on his soul the first time your voice had pulled him out of his own head and you stood in front of him while the growing foreboding feeling that meeting in that room, in front of the fire was meant to be, bloomed in his chest.

He was young enough not to recognize love for what it was but not stupid enough to not act upon it. Monopolizing you and your attention, wrapping his being around you until people could no longer separate the two of you as individuals, guarding his precious hoard ferociously from wolves and thieves until he grew into the man who could claim it.

She’s yours now.

When he really, really, thinks about it, it almost makes him laugh. He always thought he'd lead a simple life. Get a decent job, marry a modest girl, and settle down into a humble life. Grand delusions weren't for him, that was more Anne's forte and he wasn't destined for a greater purpose, that was for Ominis.

And he was satisfied with that, honestly and truly thankful for it. He thrived in the shadows, after all.

But he met you and damned himself by falling in love with the one person he shouldn't have -- the one person he could never deserve even if he lived the rest of his life as a saint.

He loved a grand adventure personified and in a lickety-split threw away all of his dreams of a quiet life -- jumping straight into a den of goblins and trolls and certain death. Hit the ground running in a race between bachelors to get to you, to earn the honor of deserving your love. And even mercilessly overwhelmed any contender to your hand until it was uncontested that it was only him who could stand beside you.

It was only he who earned it.

She’s yours now.

In quiet moments he sometimes couldn't quite believe just what happened to his life in two years.

Because he never thought he'd fall in love with a brilliant witch vied by the world or that, out of all hands stretched out to her, she would hold his, that she would love him back.

She’s yours now.

Sebastian would beg to disagree.

It was fate. (He made it so.)

It was written. (He rewrote it.)

She’s always been mine.

[blue-siphoned]

the worst thing about writing or any kind of craft is having an idea you're really excited to make a reality but then you sit down and realize how much work it's going to take to get to that point and suddenly you feel like those two little gay guys in the mountain in the lord of the rings

[blue-siphoned]

[blue-siphoned]

Warmer than a Comforter

pairing(s): Spike x fem!reader

summary: it wasn't unusual for Spike to 'break' into your apartment, but it was unusual for him to want to spend the night.

warnings: very long (4.4k words), spike being a simp, one bed trope, dry humping, thigh fucking, masturbation, some fingering, slight praise, Spike being Spike, a smidge of possessiveness, and thats about it

It was no secret to anyone your favorite time of day was long after the sun went down. A full-time college student who worked a part time job on top of that was no easy feat. Your time during the day was never your time, it was your shitty professors time who assigned reading after reading that needed to be read for the never-ending stream of papers and theses, it belonged to your shitty boss who piled on tons of paperwork and demanded you be at his beck and call even after you clocked out. As much as you loved them, your time off belonged to your friends; patrolling, looking through dusty-old books, trying not to die every time you stepped out of your apartment.

When you got home (if there was no patrolling to be done), it was your time and while you were tired, you made time for your nightly routine. You'd slip off your shoes and walk in the dark to make it to your room to turn on your lamp, because you'd be damned if you were turning on one of the big lights this late.

You would usually strip down and dig a pair of pajamas out of your drawers before taking a scalding shower. You'd brush your teeth and wash your face, maybe if you had the energy, you'd do a face mask and paint your nails. You'd turn on your stereo or switch on your TV to fall asleep to the fuzzy sound and soft light. This, of course, is what you'd be doing right now had you not walked into your house with company.

You could see him lounging on your bed, the darkness of his attire somehow darker than your unlit room. His duster slung on the back of your desk chair, only clothed in some tight navy shirt and jeans.

"What are you doing here, Spike?" You crossed your arms over your chest, annoyed when you realized he had his dirty ass boots on your bed.

"M' paying my favorite Scooby a visit." You walked over to turn on your lamp, giving you enough light to see how smug he was. His arms sat behind his head, his eyes glittering with amusement. He was doing this to annoy you. He did most things just to annoy you.

"Pay another Scooby a visit." You were dead tired, practically forcing your eyes open. You had just gotten back from work, your bag still in your hand which you used to knock his legs off your bed. He could've been stubborn, but he let you.

You stripped off your hoodie, flashing him your stomach as your undershirt rose with the movement. He whistled, "Scandalous."

"Get out of my apartment." You tossed your hoodie at him while rolling your eyes. He caught it midair, bringing it to his nose to sniff it.

"Smells different. You using a different bodywash?" You hummed as you walked around your room to find something suitable to wear to bed. It was dreadfully hot out, even worse than what you'd expect from a California summer. You had at least 3 fans going anytime you were here, especially since your landlord could never seem to find a permanent solution to the junky A.C unit.

"Midnight Rose. Real fancy stuff." You hadn't even noticed a difference, but of course Spike would. Vampire senses had a way of being intrusive in a way that was only helpful when it came to your cycle and saving you bed sheets.

"I like the other one better: the cocoa butter one. It was fainter. You smelt more like you." You scoffed.

"Duly noted." Your hands roamed over the old t-shirts from high school and camisole tops so old the straps had snapped on a couple of them.

Spike sat up on your bed, untying the laces on his shoes haphazardly before setting them by your bedroom door. He roamed around like you had been, picking up bottles of nail polish and flipping through one of the books on your shelf.

"You could spare me a bit of your attention, love. I mean I did go through the trouble of-"

"Breaking into my apartment?" You interrupted.

"On second thought, it was a bit easy. I pushed it a bit and the window came right out. Are you leaving it open for somebody?" His tone was supposed to sound much more teasing than it did. There was a pang in his chest, probably of jealousy. Much to his chagrin, he was jealous a lot these days and he couldn't quite tell if his frequent visits were enabling that or the very cause of it. Either way, it was hard not to just crawl through your window anytime he pleased.

You acted like you were annoyed and if he had a dollar for every time you threatened to call Buffy on him, he wouldn't need to dumpster dive for furniture. If he had another dollar for every time, you never followed through, he'd be even richer. You said it's because you could handle yourself without her help, but, admittedly, you didn't hate his company that much.

As far as house guests go, it could be worse. It's not like he eats all your food, talks your ears off, or is unfunny. He was just there. A pain in your ass sometimes, like when he insists on being half a step behind you during patrols and never fails to tell you how great your ass looks from behind. Never a malevolent presence, just annoyingly noticeable.

His boots were clunky, and he smelled of faint cigarettes and alcohol. He also hated silence. He was fidgety and anxious, even if his intentions were stealth, he couldn't help but break the tension and open his mouth. At times against his will, he just wanted to be noticed that bad. He just needed to be around you that bad.

"I keep telling the landlord to fix it, but he insists it's just fine. 'Nothin' some glue won't fix'." But you had tried gluing it. Had it not been for the clear shit jammed in the lock, the window would've just come right open with the flick of a finger.

"I could fix it for you." He went ignored while you had made your way to your bathroom, taking your hair down from the claw clip it had been stuck in for the past few hours. A slight moan of relief slipped through your lips as your fingers carded through it to massage your scalp.

"You know how to fix windows?"

"Well...no. But it can't be that hard. I've been around a few hundred years, surely I can figure out how to fix a bloody window." What he meant to say (if he had the balls) was that he would be more than happy to learn how to fix a window for you. It would give him an excuse to hang around, it would keep him in your good graces for a solid month, and he wouldn't have to break an entering anymore. Granted, his preferred place of entry had long been broken and he could always come through the front door, but it was a matter of principle.

You looked him up and down, trying to decipher if this was a set up for a joke or if he was actually serious, but he kept his head down. He hadn't been able to blush since he was a human, but the habit had a way of rearing its head for you.

He was so pretty too. With his high cheekbones and the way the warm light made his complexion look less ghastly. As ironic and cliche as it would be to say, he looked slightly angelic. Like one who fell from Heaven and donned the dark and mysterious charade to make it hurt less. He would burn away under a cross just to make it back to Heaven. Nearly break his spine falling out of windows and bleed out taking stabs if it meant he was closer to your doors. If there was one thing Spike did well, it was devotion.

"You wouldn't even know where to start. I'll just call Xander or something."

"What're you gonna do that for!"

"Because, Spike," you laughed incredulously, confused as to if this was going to become an argument or form a chip on his shoulder. "If I want something fixed, I'm going to call someone who does it for a living."

"But would Xander do it for free?"

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't charge anything of monetary value." You snorted, not surprised at all with his answer.

"You are such a whore, you know that?"

"What can I say, baby?" He leaned against the door frame of your bathroom, where you stood staring at your reflection in the mirror. He was happy that his nonexistent reflection could betray him. He was grateful to be a part of this routine - your routine- in a way that didn't disrupt your peace. It was soft. Almost domestic.

You were so meticulous about the way you scrubbed your face and brushed your teeth. He liked how when you took off your makeup the glitter remained. You sparkled at the right angles, really fucking sparkled. Of course, he was going to sit and stare at you; mascara still not completely wiped away, hair tied back with a fuzzy headband, lips agitated from being bit throughout the day. It was poetic. Second nature to him. He didn't need to breath, but it came to him then, overwhelming and filling his lungs like water until he was full as he stared at you in the mirror with not even his own reflection to judge him.

"I'm gonna hop in the shower."

"How rude, without me?" Damn, he sounded like a bloody idiot. You only looked him up and down, trying to appear deeply disgusted but stopped just shy of mildly annoyed.

"Get out of my apartment before I stake you." You slammed the bathroom door in his face, hiding your blush behind the wood.

"That's not a no." His voice is muffled behind the door, and as much as you'd like to believe he didn't hear it, you did laugh.

***********************************************************

Spike had to have been a cat in a previous life, is what you decided when you found him still on your bed, nose in some magazine he found pretending to care about the newest Natasha Denona palette.

"That crypt must be uncomfortable as hell for you to still be here." You skated around your room to sink beside him. He reaches across his side to pull out a bottle of water and hands it to you.

"Your showers are hot as hell; I'm surprised you didn't pass out in there." He flips through the pages nonchalantly, pretending not to be incredibly fixated at the water dripping from the nape of your neck and disappearing into your shirt.

"You would've loved that, wouldn't you? Getting to play 'knight and shining armor' while I'm conveniently naked." The sound waxy pages being torn was a surprise. So much of you and his banter was contingent on the assumption that neither of you meant anything serious so nothing would become anything.

Spike, who spent most of his mortal adult life swallowing his feelings until his stomach became an endless chasm where his feelings went to fester rather than die, was more than okay with this unspoken arrangement. Sarcasm was a second language to you. You were used to your words not mattering, especially since in your group of friends, your existence seemed to matter far less than everyone else's. You wondered if that was why you and Spike got along so well.

He just got you. Maybe a side effect of him being around you whenever he could. He just got you. In a stupid way. In an annoying way. The kind of way that made you worried that reading minds was also one of his vampiric powers. He wormed his stupid way into your brain, slithering around in his own sort of Spike way til you didn't know where his influence began.

He did sort of have this hypnotic way of speech. Maybe because he was a poet. Poets have to have some sort of hypnotic power, right? Surely, there was some connection between rhythms and brain waves that made the effect of Spike's voice so persuasive. Maybe it's not the rhythm and it's just the honesty. Ironic, since the basis of your "relationship" was built on never assuming that the other meant what they said, but who cares. It gave you guys flavor. Something to keep things interesting.

"I'll have you know; I am a very old-fashioned guy with manners." You snorted as his response. He talked about his "old-fashioned" ways a lot. Maybe to convince you that he was a gentleman. Gentleman your ass, you'd seen what he kept in his crypt.

"My deepest apologies for assuming that a guy that used railroad spikes as a murder weapon of choice wouldn't be above jumping at the opportunity to see me naked."

"Am I that transparent?"

"When it comes to mirrors, yeah." His scoff was lost in the sound of a car horn going off across the street. Damn, you needed a new place. He had complained to you about the noise before. If you didn't leave near a busy street, he would try his luck spending the night far more than he already did. Each blare deepened the scowl on his face as he flinched at the sound, even louder from where he sat in front of it.

"Those death buggies have to be the worst thing to come out of the 20th century. So obnoxious, and for what?"

"I imagine they are more convenient than horse drawn carriages."

"Yeah, more convenient and not even half the charm." He turned his head to gaze out the window. "It's not even a nice car! I'd rather ride around in the fucking Angel Mobile than drive around in that thing."

"You are so dramatic. Usually I just," you swing your leg over his waist, straddling and reaching over to close the window. He swallowed hard at the feeling of your chest pressing against the magazine, the only boundary between him and you, and the nonchalance of the action. "Shut the window." You felt him tense beneath you, his right hand awkwardly meeting your hip, blue eyes staring up at you through dark eyelashes. "Then again, I'm not a pansy who needs complete silence to sleep."

He cleared his throat before he spoke. "I sleep in a cemetery, love, ain't much noise around those parts." His eyes wandered everywhere they could but the worst part about beautiful people is that there is no unsightly place to avert your gaze. He couldn't stare at your gorgeous eyes, or your stunning nose, or your lips to distract himself from the steadily growing boner that you were sitting right on top of. You were no better than he was.

Within the context of the unspoken agreement, this meant absolutely nothing. The boner was just a normal reaction, that didn't have to mean anything. The way he was looking at you was a bit hard to ignore, but that was the way he always looked at you. He was a lot closer right now, sure, but that stupid lovesick look that you have spent years trying to ignore, totally just a joke. Not real at all. A trick of the light, in fact. The hard-on was very real though.

After sitting there for a few seconds too long, you shift your weight to move back to your side of the bed, but his hands keep you in your place. " 'm cold", he mutters, his thumb rubbing circles between where your shorts meet your bare skin.

"Yeah?" You feel him pressing up against your core. "I didn't think you could get cold."

" Me either but-", you lowered yourself completely on his clothed dick and the groan he let out was salacious. "Here we are." The frigid way he moved made his lie believable. Incredibly cautious, hesitant. No idea what to do with himself. He ran his hands along your thighs, up and down your side, one cold hand sliding underneath your shirt, rubbing the hem of it between his pointer finger and his thumb.

You leaned forward, warm breath fanning against his nose. It smelled like mint. You smelled like some sort of cocoa butter. Smooth and soft on top of him and he didn't know if you were going to roll right off or melt into his skin. Your hands come to the sides of his face, and you stare intently at him. He felt like he was under a microscope with the way you looked at him like you were committing each detail of him to memory so that even when you closed his eyes, it was still him burning in the forefront of your mind.

"You gonna kiss me?" You whispered, pressing yourself further into him. He let out a breathy laugh.

"What, a guy's always gotta make the first move?" With that, you leaned down to give him what was meant to be a quick peck. A tester. A tease. But when you give Spike an inch, he takes a mile, and he took the opportunity to devour you. Mouth open, sloppy, wet kisses while his hands worked as eagerly as his tongue did. You were a calming presence, slow and sane as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt to try and ground the both of you.

Breathing through your nose, you inhaled him. The faint smell of smoke, the fresh smell of whatever he washed the gel from his hair with, the distinctly Spike musk. Your thighs wrapped him more closely, subtly grinding into his lap, ignoring the slight burn on your knees from the friction between them and your sheets. His large hands covered swathes of skin, cooling you where you grew too hot from his touch. When he had his fill, he broke away from you, still nose to nose, a string of saliva still between the two of you.

"Do you wanna spend the night?" Your voice was somehow meek as if there was any way in hell he would say no to you. He breathed out, turning his head into the crook of your neck, leaving searing kisses on your silky skin, worshipping at his altar, and thanking who or whatever got him here tonight. He kisses you from your neck, along your jawline, to the corner of your lips.

"Yes", he whispers against your skin. He bucks his hips into you, the imprint of his cock and the rough material of his jeans kissing your pussy through the thin layers of material. You nearly choke on his tongue at the feeling. Fuck.

Your eyes are closed, hips moving furiously against his, too blissed out to even care about the steadily growing wet patch in your underwear. You're lost in kisses, kisses that overwhelm and confuse and steal your breath until you wonder how much you need to breathe anyway. Along with not needing to breathe, you learned they must have incredible resolve. He chases you. Not like how a wolf chases a lamb but how the sun chases the moon.

He pulls and you push for breath, some sort of reprieve, some time for your mind to catch up with your body because right now everything but the way the seams of his jeans catch your clit is one of the only things on your mind. He pulls you, still, his hands squeezing at your waist, moving up to cup your breasts, thumbing at your nipples, and flicking the already hard peaks. And you push, still, not in protest but in harmony. Your hips pressing down, his jerking up. Your hands tugging his hair, his squeezing your waist. It was good. It was so good.

"What is the point", he starts breathlessly, "of these damn shorts if they're so thin. You're leaking right through, love." He smiles against you, sharp teeth grazing against your cheek as he smirks.

"Take 'em off me then." For once in his life, he takes his time. The desperation of his prior movements forgotten as he looks at you as he trails a finger from your chest down between the valley of your breasts, to your navel. He draws invisible shapes along your stomach, diamonds, hearts, and letters spelling m-i-n-e. And he stalls there. Looking from beneath you, smug as you ground yourself onto his dick in an attempt to move him along.

He was amused. Fascinated. You in your own world, mewling, moaning, putting on a show just for him. Choosing to ignore how sticky your panties had gotten, how much they stuck to your cunt as you wiggled your hips as if you could get any closer. Your tits moving with you, the way your mouth was slightly agape, the way you keened when you rubbed against him just right. It was no motivation for him to move his hands at all, not when it was much more rewarding to angle his hips up and make you see stars. "You gonna cum like this?" He crooned, full of fake sympathy.

"You're really gonna make me get myself off." You rolled your eyes, maybe out of pleasure, maybe out of faux annoyance. Either way, his hand slithered to the waistband of your shorts and dipped even deeper. He left feather-light touches on your clit which sent jolts of electricity up your spine. Overcome with the tightening feeling in your belly, your hands grabbed at his shoulders as your hips worked and worked you snapped. Impossibly wet and dazed, you rocked into him until the high had passed and the stars had left from behind your eyelids leaving only Spike.

His fingers still, in your panties, he moves to slide them and your shorts off your body. You hover slightly, still too sensitive to rub your bare pussy against him. You fidget with the button of his jeans and zipper, Spike's hands coming to cover yours to ease the shakiness. Maybe to give the appearance that he was much calmer than he was. He was painfully hard, and you felt it when you palmed him through his boxers after getting his pants down enough. Where his tip sat was a wet spot. You smirked.

"Did I get your dick that wet?" A shiver went down his spine. The heat from your palm was felt through his boxers. Your hand was barely big enough to cover it. Before either of you was prepared for it, he flipped you on your back. His hands sat on either side of your head while yours removed him from his boxers. He was so big.

You tore your gaze away from his cock to meet his gaze. He still looked at you the same. Pupils widened from lust, cheeks with a slightly pink tinge, lips puffy, eyes looking down at you with the same look they always had. It's then he leans down to kiss you for the millionth time. No urgency, less messy, a kiss like he was trying to wake you from a thousand-year slumber.

Your hand still on his cock, you pumped it a few times, swiping your thumb against his tip to lubricate his dick. He groaned into your mouth, humming in pleasure. You try to line him up to sink in your hole, but he slaps you on the wrist. "Don't want your cunt tonight," he mumbled in between kisses, "Jus' let me feel you."

He pumped his cock a few times before slotting it in between the meat of your thighs. The veins and ridges of his dick would occasionally slide between your folds, but that wasn't the focus. No matter how much you wiggled for him to plant his cock so far deep it kissed your cervix, you were ignored as he squeezed your thighs together, panting as he fucked them.

The juxtaposition made your head dizzy. The softness with which he kissed you and the fervor of his dick between your thighs, them getting wetter with the accumulation of precum leaking from his dick. It only forced him to press harder, leaving handprints from how hard he gripped. "Such a pretty thing, aren't you." He sighed out, his pace still even but his breaths far from it. "Go ahead and touch that pretty cunt f' me."

As much as your brain wasn't working, it wasn't needed to do what you were told. Bleary-headed, your hand traveled from the outside of your leg to between your folds. Still wet from your previous orgasm, it didn't take much to just slip a couple fingers in, moaning as you did. One hand toyed with your tit as the other toyed with your clit, your hips wanting to buck into your hand had it not been for Spike's palm on your stomach.

Had he had the composure, he would have made some sarcastic comment. Slow down, love, what's the rush, is what he would've said had his thrusts not been as sloppy as they were. He pulled away from your lips to see the mess he was making. White beads pooled on the skin of your stomach, dripping down your thighs like liquid pearls. And you. Low warm light bouncing off your skin, lip tucked in your teeth, staring right up at him. It took all of him not to cum at the sight.

Not before you did, he decided, which by the way your moans pitched up wasn't that far away. Each "accidental" slide into you was met with a jerk of your hips. "Stop it", you squealed, the bucking of your hips screaming otherwise.

"Feels too good, doesn't it." Then he did it again. His large hand drifts around before grabbing your abandoned tit, groping it until you hit your limit again. Your chest heaved unevenly as you tried to catch your breath as Spike's hips sped up, stuttered, then stopped as his cum splashed on your stomach and breasts.

Spent and not knowing what to do, he kisses you again. He smiles into it, and to his surprise, you do too. Like it was the only thing that made sense to do. The fuzz gradually fades from your mind, the noise from the multiple fans running and the faint humming of electricity apparent again. There's a breeze coming in from your window and you giggle.

"Are you still cold?"

[blue-siphoned]

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who can't sleep without at least facetiming you before, because he just NEEDS to know that you're okay.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who already plans to how he's going to propose to you.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who always have a scrunchie in case you need to tie your hair, or, if you have short hair, he always have hair clips in case your hair is too wild.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who also always have pads with him and some shirt, in case your pants are stained so you can tie around your waist to hide it.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who tries his best to not upset you, because only the thought of you getting sad already makes him want to die.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who first idea of date was to go on a cat/dog cafe.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who asked you to put a GPS on you, just to make sure you're always safe from his enemies (and also from Ra's)

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who biggest wish is for you to meet his mother.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne who literally tried to stab a guy who catcalled you.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne that has a necklace with your initial on it.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne that also got you a necklace for you with emeralds on it.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne that on your birthday reserved a whole island for the two of you to celebrate.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne that every twice a month buys you flowers that mean love or any type of caring meaning.

Boyfriend!Damian Wayne that already bought an engagement ring. Just in case you know?