#But let’s look at the alternative shall we?

[lucystark12]

oh good god please stop

i propose an alternative...

lets look at the context of these three scenes, shall we?

scene 1: max and lucas

this is lucas referring to max's depression and her distancing herself from the party as a result. this is something very tangible and real that could be found in a real life conversation between two people in a relationship. the context of this would make sense if you put it in any other kind of movie. in scene one, lucas is displaying his care for max as an individual and for her feelings. he is there for her in her everyday emotional pursuits.

scene 2: mike and el

this happens during the monologue when mike is quite literally using his words and the fact that he is physically there for her to help her save the world. TO. HELP. HER. SAVE. THE. WORLD. mike infact wasn't there- nor does he clearly have any desire to be- for her throughout the nine months where they were on the opposite sides of the country. he literally is only able to have this conversation (if you could even call it that) with her when THE WORLD IS ENDING. hello.

scene 3: steve and nancy

once again- DIRE CIRCUMSTANCES. nancy was literally just vecna'd. she was just put into a trance by vecna, prompting steve to say this to her. listen to urself.

the fact that the two debatable couples of the trio are only saying this to each other in something so absurd as a supernatural monster attacking the girl in said scenario whereas lucas and max are having a very real and tangible conversation about every day issues- not lucas being there for her specifically because she's dying, but because he cares about her and her feelings- should say it all.

i'd also like to add the fact that steve/mike say this to nancy/el when they're practically incapacitated and can't respond. el can't because she's fighting vecna, and nancy is calming down from coming out of a vecna trance. they can't respond. they can't say there piece. max was able to do that in her conversation with lucas because they are in a healthy relationship where both sides of the equation are valued. if this phrase is to mean anything, it's not a stretch to assume that nancy and el's lack of ability to voice their thoughts is a direct metaphor for the fact that their voices aren't/weren't being heard in the relationship with the other person.

my last point: by this logic... WHERE IS JOPPER? jopper is the only couple that, as of now, is basically 100% canon. there's a chance the love triangles could go the other way and a chance max won't wake up. if this is "code for endgame couples" then where is the show's only couple that's actually going to be endgame for sure?

[pokemonfrommemory]

Filed under Pokemon I’d love to have but would be scared of irl

[louellaby]

L E V I A T H A N A L T E R N A T E

A Letter Received

"Will you accept my feelings?"

It has been days since the last part of your plan was executed. You were all giddy and nervous about how everything would go, and now you're even more anxious as the clock kept ticking. You were still at school, in your classroom, as your last lesson just ended. Looking at your stuff as you packed them away, you remembered that thing you did that made you feel anxious.

Three days ago, you confessed to him. To the school's most famous otaku. The one who almost never goes to school and attends online classes instead. He almost never speaks with anyone else other than his brothers. But you fell for his charms years ago, and you finally decided to plan a way to make sure he knows how you feel. You sent him a letter.

"Will you accept my feelings?"

During the planning process, one thought had been eating at your mind. It was the fact that you two already grew apart despite being childhood friends. You almost gave into that distance he was setting, but your feelings for him kept you in place. In the end, you thought that enough was enough and that otaku would finally recognise your presence once more.

"Hey, MC," someone snapped you out of your thoughts by tapping you on your shoulder. It was your friend from your class, holding out a closed envelope towards you. With a deep sigh, they said, "Some guy from the other class just asked me to hand this to you. Although, I'm not sure why he didn't enter the classroom and give it to you himself. Instead, he left in a hurry."

Seeing that envelope sent shivers down your spine, and a heavy feeling started to weigh on your chest. You remembered that gesture. When you were both kids, Leviathan would always send you a letter, instead of facing you, to tell you some bad news he could never say to your face. You didn't realise you were just staring at the envelope until your friend snapped you out of your thoughts again.

"M-MC, are you okay?" They asked with wide eyes and placed their hands on your shoulders after putting the envelope on your desk. "You're warm and trembling! Are you sick?!"

With a hitched breath, you slowly shook your head no, but it didn't convince them. They didn't want to pry anymore, especially not when you looked so serious while opening that white envelope. They sat down on their seat next to yours and just waited, making sure you were alright and that they would be there if something happened to you. Gathering your thoughts, you pushed the bad feelings aside and started reading the letter written for you.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Dear MC,

You know that I used to write you letters whenever there's something I can't say in front of you. But this time, I'm writing to tell you that I want to say something to you in person.

Meet me where it all began.

I'll be waiting.

Yours,

Leviathan

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Could it be? Could it finally be? The heavy feeling in your chest returned, contrasting the energy that filled up your whole body. Startling your friend off their chair, you packed up the rest of your stuff and ran off without saying goodbye to the poor student.

"Meet me where it all began."

You ran and ran as fast as you could to the place where you and Leviathan would always hide out. Whenever the two of you wanted to run away from everything and just be together to enjoy each other's company, you would both go towards a special place in the public park. It was a place that most people didn't know about.

It was the place where the two of you first met. You stumbled upon the place years ago, back when you were only ten years of age, after you had a fight with your parents. You wanted to run away for a while and heard someone else crying when you got to the place.

"If you think no one will accept you, then I will!"

You ran through the bushes, ignoring the barely visible path nearby and not caring about the leaves and twigs getting stuck to your uniform. All of those uncertain feelings swirling in your chest kept you going. They kept your legs moving as fast as they could. You were excited yet terrified. What did you think he would say about your confession?

"My name is MC! What's yours?"

"My name.. is..."

You gasped for air as you tried to catch your breath. You stopped running and placed a hand onto the nearest tree trunk to keep yourself from falling over. You let your eyes search the area, and you found him. There, next to the park's lake, on the soft grass he sat. He had his headphones over his ears, and his back was turned towards you. But as soon as you could breathe normally again, you gathered up the courage to call out his name.

"Levi!"

The moment he heard you through the music he blasted in his ears, he tensed up but turned his head to look at you. Without another second of hesitation, he jumped to his feet and ran towards you, an action that you unconsciously mirrored.

When the two of you were only two feet apart, you looked at each other's eyes and saw the familiarity, the memories you both had together flowed through your eyes as if you were both watching videos of them together. A smile crept upon your face, but just as quickly as it appeared, it went away the moment you saw his face drop.

"M-MC, y-you're here.. I can't believe it.. " he stuttered with a sigh, hanging his head and placing his hand on the back of his neck, "I thought you'd forget about this place since, well, i-it's been a while."

He averted his gaze. He kept looking at everything else but you.

"Y-Yeah," you forced a laugh. You held your right arm with your left hand and gripped your sleeve lightly before continuing to speak. You felt as if it would help you face whatever was coming next. "It's been years since we last... went here together, but that doesn't mean I didn't go by myself."

You saw Leviathan's eyes widen at your response. He bit his lip and sighed deeply once more. He still refused to meet your eyes. "L-Listen, MC... About... A-About your confession..."

"Levi, wait." You stopped him in the beginning of his upcoming speech. You already knew what was coming. You already expected it on the way there, but you didn't turn back. You couldn't. You had hoped it would go your way. You wished he felt the same way you did all these years, and he just couldn't tell you because he was shy. But it wasn't meant to be, and you knew it. After all, not everything is meant to be.

"I'm sorry."

Your eyes widened in shock at his sudden apology. You kept your stare at the grass beneath you, your vision getting blurry with the tears that pooled in your eyes. You gripped onto the tie on your chest while Leviathan was already behind you, leaving the area. He didn't want to say anything more to you. At least not while you looked so upset and broken. He knew you already got his message, but what you didn't notice were the man's own tears running down his cheeks.

He came to that place with one goal, and that was to accept your feelings. But his insecurity got the best of him the moment he saw you and recalled the memories of you looking so happy at school. The memories of him watching you from the shadows and seeing how well you lived your life even without him by your side.

"Hey, MC. Why do you keep hanging out with someone like me? Don't I disgust you?"

"What are you talking about, Levi?! You're my bestest friend in the whole world! How could I ever be disgusted by you?!"

"But I'm just—"

"No! Don't you dare say you're a yucky otaku! You're much, much better than how you see yourself!"

"... th-thank you.. You're my best friend, MC. You're just the best! I really don't—"

"—deserve you..."

[tender-rosiey]

can i have more gojo fluff plsplsplspls i crave for more gojo fluff

gossip — gojo satoru xf!reader

a/n: gossip with husband gojo is here everyone! next up is sick gojo ;)) ( also sorry to all the stacy's out there; i am sure you are all wonderfull <33)

you and your husband love shit-talking people and the thing is you don’t even have to say anything. one look at each other and you both know what you’re both thinking.

consequently, it makes you guys absolutely terrible in a meeting.

and this is something that happens ever since you were students.

for example, yaga was lecturing you and the others about something. you and satoru locked eyes for a single moment, looked at yaga, then at each other once again.

both of you are barely able to contain your smiles.

in this relationship, you’re supposed to be the mature one, at least, before gojo mouthed a “tennis ball” pointing at his own head.

it looks like that was your breaking point because you started cackling loudly and almost fell off your chair if it wasn’t for satoru teleporting beside you and holding you up— barely holding back a cackle of his own.

yaga merely sighed, pinching his nose.

you tried your best to breathe out a sorry, but satoru is merciless as he continues joking about his teacher’s hairstyle which makes you laugh even louder.

yaga could smack gojo across the head and lecture you both separately.

but he guesses that with the way gojo’s eyes are brimming with adoration and the way you’re laughing and making the others around you laugh as well, he can let it pass.

even if it’s at his own expense this time.

everyone needed a laughing break every once in a while, especially as sorcerers.

now nothing has changed. you’re both married, completely in love and are teachers.

and you’re supposed to be teaching your class, at the moment.

but your dumbass of a husband thought it would be better to teleport to your favourite café and judge every poor soul out there.

“he looks like he eats deodorant.”

“he looks like he has a body pillow for a wife.”

“she looks like she thinks babies come from storks.”

“she looks like she eats soap and chia seeds for breakfast.”

“satoru, please,” you wheeze, hand over your mouth to muffle your laughs, “I c-can’t take it anymore!”

“but y/n, I can’t help myself! also that couple over there looks like the ones that wear matching hello kitty pijamas.”

you perk up at that, “satoru, we did that too.”

“I know, honey,” he quips, eyes locking with your own, “it’s cool when we do it, not anyone else,” he argues with a proud smile.

you shake your head as you mumble, “hypocrite,” and satoru gasps while trying to defend himself.

another instance is while training the first and second years.

naturally, you were sat beside satoru, but the idiot could not keep his mouth shut and you were, too easily, dragged into it.

he leans towards you, “I can’t believe that that yuuji went into the water with socks. what’s wrong with him?!”

“I know, right?” you whisper, amidst the yelling of nobara and maki.

after that, you and gojo don’t leave a student without making a comment about them—ruthless you are.

yuuji, self-esteem dragged through the mud and having enough, heads snaps towards you both, “can you stop bullying me?!”

satoru smiles while the both of you raises your hands in innocence then looks at you, “sweets, you know how megumi said todo’s head is like a pineapple?”

you nod and he gladly continues, “don’t you think it’s ironic that it’s him, out of everyone, that said that?—“

“DON’T DRAG ME INTO YOUR GOSSIP!”

and even though you talk about the kids, you also talk with them about everyone else.

you can never forget that time you went with the first years to get some sushi.

you had left no one in the restaurant without butchering their entire life or alternatively said: you made up stories for every person you saw.

but that shall be the story of another time.

along with judging every creature that has come to existence, you and your husband love to gossip, a lot.

nothing happens without one telling the other; you always keep the other updated about everything.

so today as you slam the door open, you are barely able to contain yourself as you yell out, “satoru, you will not guess what just happened!”

in an instance, he gets all the snacks and sits in front of you on the couch, face eager as ever.

he is wearing that bunny headband you got him for the self-care nights and you smile: you have both a best friend and a husband in the same person.

he leans forward, eyes wide, “is it about stacy?”

“how did you know?” you gasp before taking a bite from one of the many snacks laid on the table.

he shrugs, “lucky guess, plus! I’ve been curious ever since you told me about what she did! it’s hard to believe that she is dating 4 guys at the same time and they don’t even know that the other exists.”

“right? I’ve heard about two-timing but never four-timing, and speaking of them not knowing about each other,” you smirk and his eyes light up in excitement, “they found out today!”

satoru cackles before pulling you in to cuddle you, “I bet a story like that will take the entire night to tell.”

you look up at him, “and you don’t mind?”

he kisses your cheek leaving an obnoxiously loud sound, “of course not! I get to listen to some juicy and hot tea and I get to hear your gorgeous voice for a really long time! so practically heaven for me, sweets,” he grins.

a giggle escapes your lips, “gossip is heaven for you, my dear husband?”

“gossip with you is heaven for me, my dear wife,” he murmurs as he peppers your face with kisses before abruptly pulling back, “now tell me! I am dying to know!”

you laugh, “okay, so one of them…”

and so you tell the story of stacy, the four-timer.

satoru is hung up on your every word and you’ve yet to figure out whether it’s because two of the boyfriends end up fighting each other or because of something else.

to satoru, it’s clear, your voice and the way you’re so excited while telling him about how the third boyfriend ended up being the son of the ceo makes him smile contently as he hugs you closer.

he doesn’t know what else to do, but he has a feeling that he should thank stacy for providing the both of you with a very interesting story like that.

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawingss @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @jisbizarre @kunikida-simp @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu

copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[celestialowlbear]

✨♡ Gale NSFW Drabble ♡✨

Pairing: Gale x Fem!Reader (Tav)

Summary: Gale indulges in you. Hehe.

WC: 1200

Warnings: 18+, NSFW. No plot. Just smut. Face riding. Female receiving oral. Mention of PiV sex. Established relationship. Reader/Tav not described. Bulleted list.

A/N: Now it’s Gale’s turn for thots I just needed to get on a page. It became longer than I expected, haha. He’s an oral king. I don’t make the rules. Enjoy!

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚

You lifted your gaze from your book, sneaking a glance at Gale who sat on a comfortable loveseat across from you.

You weren’t surprised to catch Gale staring right back at you with a peculiar twinkle in his eye.

You knew the look, his brown eyes drinking in your form from where he sat.

He quietly shut his book, placing it to the side.

Gale stood up and settled by you on the plush couch you were lounging on.

He kissed your shoulder as you tried to pay attention to your literature.

You already knew what he wanted, but you loved making him work for it.

“Don’t mind me, my love,” Gale whispered, his voice already husky with desire. “You know I can’t stay away from you for long.”

Gale’s skilled hands wandered as his lips did the same, kissing up your neck and letting his fingers dance under the hem of your top

You smirk, no longer paying attention to the words on the page, your body immediately pliant under his touch.

“We’ve been in the tower all day…you haven’t been far from me at all.” You teased quietly, tilting your head to give him better access.

Gale hummed against your skin. “Still not close enough, I’m afraid.”

One of Gale’s hands was fully under your top now, caressing and teasing your breast.

“I want to taste you if you’ll allow me the privilege.”

You let out a soft sigh, Gale’s beard tickling you as he kissed your neck, nipping at the points he knew made you melt.

“How can I deny such a request?”

Gale lifted his head from your neck, pressing his lips to yours in a deep kiss, his hand cupping your cheek.

“Let’s get comfortable then, shall we?” Gale pressed his forehead to yours, muttering something under his breath.

In an instant, you were lying on your shared bed with Gale next to you, both of your clothing gone.

The perks of being in a relationship with a wizard.

“Come here, my love. Take a seat on your throne.” Gale smirked as he gestured at his face, lying on his back.

You settle on top of him, your thighs surrounding his head.

Gale squeezes the fat off your thighs, looking up at you with a wild hunger in his eyes.

“You are stunning like this.”

Gale brought his lips to your folds, not giving you a chance to respond.

You gasped his name instead as he slowly kissed your thoroughly wet cunt, probing his tongue at your entrance.

You gripped the bed’s headboard, your thighs already trembling around his head.

You could feel his beard wonderfully scratch against your inner legs, adding more pleasurable sensations to what he was already doing.

Gale was taking his time, still lazily kissing at your folds as he would your mouth.

You wanted to rock down onto him desperately, your clit beginning to throb with need.

Gale was purposefully avoiding that part of you, drawing out your pleasure.

Gale also didn’t want this to end too quickly, thoroughly enjoying servicing you just like this.

“Gale…” you ground out. “More…please…”

Gale hummed in response, tightening his grip on your thighs.

“Patience, my love.” He murmured, grazing his nose against your clit. “Like a good wine, you must be savored. You deserve such treatment.”

You let out an airy laugh at his comparison, feeling him smile against your swollen folds as he picked up the pace, swirling around your clit.

You whined, his tongue providing the relief you were so desperate for.

Gale gently probed at your clit, alternating between your entrance and swollen bud.

“Ah…Gale…!” You cried out as he began massaging your clit with his tongue, his composure quickly crumbling at the sounds leaving your throat.

Your trembling body, his name leaving your lips in broken moans, feeling your clit swell with each pass of his tongue, it was all absolute perfection.

No magic could ever compare to having you like this.

Gale released one of your thighs to cup your ass, giving it a hearty squeeze as he continued his meal, obscene sounds filling the room as you rocked your hips on his face.

Gale was completely lost in you, your scent filling his nostrils, your arousal coating his beard, your soft skin now damp with sweat under his fingertips.

The molten pleasure was building in your spine, Gale finding a rhythm he knew would have you shattering above him before long.

Your fingernails were digging into the fabric of the headboard, bucking your hips against his lips in time with his tongue, which was now fully focusing on your clit.

“Gale…don’t stop…please…I’m…” You were breathless, opening your eyes that had been squeezed shut, looking down between your legs.

Gale was once again already staring at you, his eyes dark and blown with lust. Strands of his hair were stuck to his forehead, looking disheveled.

His eyes weren’t just filled with lust, but pure passion. Love. Unwavering commitment.

You crashed over the edge, locking your eyes with his as your orgasm rocked your body.

Ecstasy blossomed from your core to every nerve, intense and mind-numbing.

You chanted Gale’s name like an incantation, your entire body convulsing and shuddering above him.

Gale moaned loudly into your pussy, keeping up his pace, wanting to taste and feel every bit of your pleasure.

Gale lapped up the gush of your release, your cunt pulsing with your orgasm against his mouth.

Gale could feel his cock aching between his legs, his body ignited with desire, knowing he could make you feel this way with just his mouth. He couldn’t help the bit of pride that swelled in his chest.

You came down from your high, ragged breath and limp body, sliding off his face to lay next to him.

Gale was breathing heavily too, his beard dripping with your release.

He turned on his side to face you, a smile gracing his features.

“Thank you for letting a wizard indulge himself.” He traced his hand over your flushed cheek.

You chuckled, bringing a hand down to his rigid length, caressing it ever so gently.

“I should be the one thanking you, love.”

Gale’s eyes closed as he let out a low moan.

You captured his lips with yours in a fiery kiss.

You could taste your tangy release on your lips, his beard soaking with it. Your tongues danced momentarily, desire burning between your legs once again.

“I don’t think we are done indulging in one another, my dear.” You purred, gently pushing Gale over to be on his back once again.

You climbed on top of him, positioning yourself over his cock.

Fire danced in his eyes as he gripped your hips, lifting his own hips ever so slightly to push his leaking tip into your tight entrance.

Gale entered you with no resistance, both of you groaning in bliss as you took him to the hilt.

You both sat there momentarily, taking one another in. You leaned forward, entwining your fingers with his above his head for leverage.

Gale let out a deep rumble, something between a chuckle and a growl as he felt you clench around him.

“Oh no, my love. We are far from being finished. I’d say we are just getting started.”

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

Tagging @ladyzirkonia as requested 😘

[easy-there-leftovers]

I See You, Darling

[Astarion x reader] The idea never left my mind, and I so very badly need this right now. Heavily inspired by this cutscene where Tav chooses a dialogue option and Astarion's eyes just deviate-- (gif above, just wait for his eyes to look at you WKDKWKDK) |Word count: 2k.| Based off of this post I made.

Part 2 here!!

Also, this is more heavy on the world building rather than dialogue. If I end up making this a series, I might write with more dialogue in mind but it was just necessary to do this first afhjaqfbnjkafbnebn--

A story in which an overworked art student longs for a fictional character that they've devoted so much of their time to.

Alternatively; Astarion realizes there's someone else watching him. And he can't wait to get acquainted with them.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

You’ll admit, perhaps you were simply tired. Attending a prestigious school for the arts doesn’t exactly leave you with much free time to indulge in more calming forms of recreation. Your course requires you to consume a wide array of media to expand your library of creativity, after all. All in the name of generating more interesting media to entrance and enthrall your audience with your original work. 

Maybe all the moving pictures and swimming texts have caused you to greatly misunderstand what you are seeing. Surely, your favorite character isn’t looking directly at you, right?

Right?

But before that, let’s review what might have happened earlier to explain just what exactly in gods name is happening.

Shall we?

——

You purchased the game a few months back. “Baldur’s Gate 3.” A game that took the players and immersed them in the world of Dungeons & Dragons, introducing them to the mechanics of tabletop RPG as they did. It seemed interesting enough. And if the concept of character creation and storytelling didn’t sell you on the idea of it, the pretty faces on the cover certainly did.

So, with the little money you could spare from your part time job at your own institution’s library, and with what little sanity you had left to argue with, you impulsively bought said game. And it was fun. Exhilarating. Electrifying. 

Until you ran into a problem.

Astarion. The rogue, elven vampire that you have chosen to romance after careful deliberation. You scoffed to yourself. He was one of the biggest reasons why you purchased the blasted game at all. You’ve carefully studied the character in all his glory, from his striking carmine eyes and delicate unstained curls, to his aptitude for bloodshed and all manners of gore. He was such an interesting character, giving you more and more reason to pursue him as the story progressed. Yet the same can’t be said about your relationship with him. Or at least your “Tav’s” relationship with him. 

You’ve had some difficulty in deepening your relationship with the ex-magistrate. It seemed as if no matter what options you chose, no matter what manner of advances you made, he’d be quick to dismiss you. Painting you as a desperate little pup as he did. Denying you the opportunity of further knowing him. You’ve created and overwritten more save slots than you'd like to admit, perusing each one to select different lines of dialogue only to be rejected time and time again.

You thought it strange. But perhaps this was simply the way his route was meant to unfold. He was such an incredibly complex character after all. Perhaps this was meant to prove the party’s loyalty. 

But that didn’t stop you from being frustrated with other aspects of the gameplay. You've spent countless nights hunched on your work chair, back curving like a dead bug as you analyzed each and every possible outcome in combat. Eyes, bloodshot from cutting your sleeping hours short, just to endure the story until you were at an appropriate place to log out. And hair, flicking and curling out in different directions due to you weaving your hands through them in exasperation. 

You saw your reflection on your screen as it darkened to load the next scene and you couldn't help but stare at your character in slight envy. You know full well that however you designed them, it wouldn’t affect how the others perceived you, and yet you couldn’t help but pretty them up for your own interest. You designed it with yourself in mind, but making them far more attractive than you would ever be. Effortlessly beautiful as they stirred to wake up in the forest you settled in for camp.

How could Astarion ever turn this beautiful being away? If not for their heroism, then surely their looks would be enough to draw him in, no?

And speak of the devil. Once you could control your character again, you readied them to interact with your sharply dressed companion. Wanting to try your luck once more as the bright sun shone upon your character like a promise of a new day. Unfortunately, you’re greeted with a look of boredom, oh so familiar, that you sigh. “I hope you’re not here to beg—” Mocking him, echoing the words you’ve come to expect with faux mirth in your voice. But you cut yourself short when you realize he has yet to say anything. 

Strange.

 What’s even stranger is that he's just staring at you. Well,--- he’s staring at Tav. Your character.

“What the fuck…?” You move your mouse around, clicking to try and toggle the dialogue options to no avail, screen stuck in a cinematic close up of his face. Much like how the camera always pans when awaiting your response. 

However, unlike the common script of his actions that you’re used to, the one that you’ve memorized like a well practiced dance, his eyes smoothly glide off of your character and onto you. 

You freeze, but your heart doesn’t. The beating of your chest growing stronger the longer he looks at you. Eyes, blood red like rubies, boring into your own. He regards you, blinks, and then smiles that deviously charming smile of his before your screen turns dark. Your computer turns off, and you stare in shock of what just happened.

‘No fucking way, no fucking way, no fucking way—‘ You’re not delusional, right? Sure, you’re tired, but no fucking way did you just imagine one of the hottest characters you’ve seen in a while break the fourth wall just to fuck with you.

You laugh to yourself.

Yes, you’re just tired. Nothing like a good four hours of sleep can’t remedy. Although, as you get up from your chair, foolish as it may seem, you grab a used shirt from your floor, and hang it on your computer in the case that those piercing eyes come to life once again while you sleep.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you get ready for the day, you notice your dirtied clothing still on your computer. Covering it as if it were a petrifying doll from a horror movie. You feel childish for doing so, reasoning that you were simply stressed from the events that taken place prior and removed the cloth.

As you did, your screen was brought back to life. Showing you the next night as if your little "tryst" with Astarion never happened. An entire thirty minutes or so of progress seemingly gone. Thankfully, you saved just before your game went haywire and you attempted to load up your last slot. 

Zzzt Zzzzt!

Alas, your game was not cooperating once again. You tried the save just before that and the same error screen presented itself to you. ‘Maybe this is a sign that I should just fucking work instead.’ Irritated at the thought, you moved to log out of the game but a familiar voice convinces you otherwise as the screen returns to normal. 

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” 

‘Is this— a romance scene?!’ Astarion had never initiated an interaction before! Perhaps the game gods were granting you mercy. Or maybe, something you did last night might have given way for this line of dialogue to open up. Regardless, you happily took the opportunity and began reading your choices.

“Why, hello pup. How was your awfully short slumber?” ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Well. Thank you.

It’s none of your concern, fangs.

Better now that you’re here.

What happened last night?

━─━────༺༻────━─━

What…did happen last night? You don’t recall anything past the blackening of your screen, but it looks like you did something after that which caused this dialogue.

You don’t want to squander this opportunity, who knows when this will happen again, but your curiosity gets the best of you. So you save, and choose option 4. 

“Oh, you poor thing. Spooked you, did I?” He laughs, seemingly taking in the look of confusion that graces both yours and Tav’s face.

“What do you think happened last night?”

“My fucking game crashed.” You answer automatically.

Tav moves to open their mouth but is silenced with a tut. “Not you, spawn.” His eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement, but the way his mouth is pulled in a tightly-lipped smile offers you further insight otherwise. 

“I need your answer.” His eyes are on you yet again, and you feel the world begin to spin.

——

You stir awake after your short slumber. Your body, heavy like lead, though not at all a feeling foreign to you. You think about what happened last night, wondering if it was all a dream. Yet as you plan to get ready for the day, you notice you’re not exactly in a state to do so. You expected to wake at dawn, the dark and cool air to greet you as it fills your room and envelops your walls. Instead, you wake to see an endless amount of evergreen and the smell of the dark and damp grass beneath you filling your senses.

And if spending hours, weeks, months, of playing this damned game has taught you anything, you know that you now reside in the heart of the forest that you usually set up camp in. But this time, you're far from your bedroll and the fire that your party created.

One.

Two.

Three.

It takes you three seconds to comprehend what just happened. Three seconds for you to try and save the progress you’ve already made so far to no avail. Three seconds for you to feel the chill of dread run up your spine. 

And this chill so does love playing games.

You clamber away on your knees when you hear that deep chuckle of his emanate from right beside your ear. Creating as much distance to inspect this figure you’ve yet to face.

You see Astarion in all his vampiric glory. ‘Well, for a vampire spawn, I guess.’ You comment to yourself. Crimson eyes, darker than you imagined, with full, dark lashes contrasting his pallid skin and pure hair that glow under the moonlight. An unsettling, and cursedly attractive, smirk curls onto his lips. His ivory fangs on full display as he does.

“It seems as if those useless artifacts were worth something.” He marvels at his handiwork, his prize, and approaches it with confidence. 

“Well, your character certainly is more ‘prettied up.’” He circles you, carefully appraising his newest asset, and grins. “But you are far more intriguing.”

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster.

“Although, you are very cute. Cheeky little pup, aren’t you?” He jests.

A simple, “What the fuck?” is all you can muster which earns you a click of his tongue in response.

“You’re not broken, are you? Or am I to anticipate your little ‘what the fuck?’s as your only contribution?” Long, and incredibly masculine, fingers crawl and curl to grasp your chin like a spider. 

“I’ve waited months to have you. And now here you are, finally within my grasp.” The statement causes something to stir within you.

“What do you mean, ‘months?” 

He narrows his eyes, possibly trying to comprehend your stupidity.

“I’ve been watching you. Waiting, for the right moment. Interacting with this– caricature of yourself until you could deny yourself of me no more.” Blood rushes to your head. Your cheeks burning in embarrassment for seeming overly eager. And in panic as his intentions have yet to be cleared.

“And now that I’m here? Do you want to kill me?” You feel your heartbeat in your ears, awaiting his response. Your eyes wide in fear, yet trying to fake heroic bravado in the attempts to gain the upperhand.

And in this moment, he thinks you absolutely invigorating.

“Oh no, sweet pet. I’ve waited far too long for that. I’m going to make you mine.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Should I make this into a series? "The adventures of a misplaced artist in Baldur's Gate!!" Or something like that. Let me know, lol

[chloewriteswhenshewantsto]

Guilty as Sin?

Helllooooo!!! I am back with another smutty trainwreck of a fic. This writing thing is still pretty new to me so I hope this isn’t horrible.

I hope you enjoy it <3

Warnings: Female Body Descriptions, Smut (like a lot), Anthony likes 🐱

Pairings: Anthony Bridgerton X Female! Reader

Word Count: 1.4K

As always, 18+ Minors DNI

———————————————————————

Anthony lets out a low chuckle, his hand sliding upwards to cup your cheek, his thumb tracing over your bottom lip. "I thought you liked my teasing, love." He said with a playful smile, his fingers brushing against your arousal with a calculated touch. "But I suppose you have waited long enough." He added in a seductive whisper, his mouth capturing yours in a deep and passionate kiss.

With a devilish smile, Anthony begins to trail kisses down the length of your body, stopping at the edge of the sheets as he hovered over your center. His hands caressed your thighs, gently pushing them further apart as he settled between them. His breath ghosted over your core, warm and teasing, as he let out a soft chuckle, amused by your growing anticipation.

Anthony's tongue gently glides over your core, the warmth of his mouth sending shivers down your spine as he begins to explore your body with a slow and deliberate intensity. He is in no rush, wanting to savor every moment and every sound that escapes your lips, his hands holding your thighs in place as he laps at your core, relishing the taste of you.

Anthony's tongue delves deeper, his mouth working in perfect rhythm as he alternates between long, slow strokes and quick, tantalizing flicks. Your moans and gasps only serve to fuel his desire, his grip on your thighs growing tighter as he hungrily laps at your core. His skilled ministrations are driving you to the edge, his name a breathless moan that falls from your lips over and over in growing desperation.

Anthony lifts his head from beneath the sheets to look at you with a devilish grin, his chin shiny with your arousal as he moves back up your body, propping himself on his forearm beside you. He brushes his thumb over your lips, still glistening with your wetness. "You look breathtaking like this." He whispers, his voice rough and low. "And you taste even better."

“So sweet,” He says licking his lips. “Would you like a taste?” He asks as he move his lips on top of yours. You groan as his tongue pushes into your mouth, tasting the slickness that still coats his lips. He kisses you deeply, his hand cupping your cheek as he pulls away again, his eyes dark with arousal. You can feel his hands in your hair and his body pressed deeply into yours. “Anthony.” You breathe out. “Keep going please.” You moan in between kisses.

Anthony's attention turns back to you as you speak, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "There you are," He murmurs, leaning down to press a gentle kiss against your forehead. "I was beginning to wonder if I'd kissed you senseless." He adds with a chuckle, his hand coming up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“No, not yet anyway.” You tease him. Anthony's smile widens into an even more devilish grin, raising an eyebrow in playful challenge. "Is that so, love? Shall we change that?" He purrs, his fingers trailing down your jaw to gently hold your chin, tilting your head back to deepen the kiss. His tongue pushes past your lips, his mouth eager and possessive as he claims yours with a fierce heat.

As a moan escapes from between your lips, Anthony can't help but let out a low groan against your mouth, the sound practically a growl. The noise makes your skin tingle, and you can feel his body pressing against yours even more firmly than before, the heat between the two of you growing more intense as his desire for you continues to escalate.

He continues to kiss you deeply and passionately, his fingers tangling in your hair as he pulls you even closer, his mouth devouring yours in a way that leaves you breathless and dizzy with need.

Anthony grins against your lips, his hand sliding up to entwine itself in your hair as he deepens the kiss. His free hand pushed your thighs further apart, his fingers tracing your core in a torturously slow manner. "Of course, darling. I’m not finished with you yet." He purred, the sound of his voice alone almost enough to drive you mad with desire.

You moan softly as his fingers glide across your core, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. Your body arching into his touch, eager for more of that delicious friction. "Anthony..." You pant, your voice a low and breathless gasp as your eyes slide shut, your head tilting back in pleasure.

You can feel his fingers continue to work their magic, gently stroking your core in a manner that is both tender and arousing. He watches you closely, taking in the sight of your pleasure-filled expression with a satisfied smile. "You're so beautiful when you come undone like this, love," He rumbles, his voice tinged with a mix of adoration and pure desire. “And all for me.” He smirks down at you.

Anthony lets out a low groan as he enters you, his eyes squeezing shut for a brief moment as he revels in the sensation of your body around him. His forehead rests against yours, his breath coming out in short, uneven pants as he gives you a moment to adjust to his size. "God, you feel incredible, love." He whispers, his voice husky and filled with desire.

You gasp at the sudden fullness that comes with Anthony inside of you, your body responding to his touch as a wave of pleasure washes over you. His forehead presses against yours as he begins to move inside of you, his hands gently grasping at your hips and thighs in a possessive manner.

He whispers praises and curses in equal measure, his breath coming out in short gasps as he takes in the overwhelming feeling of your body wrapped around him.

He moves his hands down to rest on your hips, his fingers digging into the skin as he sets a steady pace. His mouth trails down your neck, scattering a trail of hot, wet kisses along your throat, his teeth grazing lightly over your skin. His name falls from your lips like a prayer, a soft, breathless plea for more, and he gladly obliges.

Anthony's movements become more intense, his thrusts hard and fast, each one driving you closer to the edge. His name falls from your lips in a continuous stream, a breathless gasp or moan following it each time he slams back into you. He tightens his grip on your hips, his fingers digging into the skin as he continues his relentless assault, his own release building as he brings you closer and closer to your own climax.

———————————————————————

Your eyes shot open, a sharp gasp escaping your lips as you sat up in bed, heart pounding against your chest. Your body was covered in a light layer of sweat, your breath coming out in short, erratic pants. Your bedsheets feel ablaze with the intensity of your emotions. It was just a dream? It had felt so real.

You feel a strong arm tighten around your waist, pulling you back against a warm, solid chest. Benedict's low voice rumbles behind you, groggy but filled with concern. "Darling? What's wrong?" He asks, his breath hot on your neck as he presses a gentle kiss to your shoulder.

Your heart falters as you turn and see your husband. The guilt of what you had just imagined hits you in tidal waves. “Nothing, darling. Just a bad dream, go back to sleep.” You reply giving him a kiss on the cheek.

It’s fine. You didn’t actually do anything wrong. You never actually touched Anthony, and you never would. You loved your husband, so why do you feel as guilty as sin?

[brailsthesmolgurl]

DAMNATION

A legend foretold that the princess' heart is the only way to save his people. What happens when he refuses to take her heart when he had foolishly fell in love with her? But, what if she wanted to give his people the life that they deserved? Warnings: Angst, No Comfort, Death of Character, Blood and Gore, you might let out a tear or two, there could be an alternate ending in a parallel universe. Slight Spoiler for Rafayel's lore.

"Rafayel, please, please, please let me help your people." She sniffled, eyes and nose a hue of red as she held onto the sleeves of the God of the Sea. They had been at this argument for days, and time is not exactly in Rafayel's favour. His people are dying, and her heart, is the only thing that could save his kind from extinction.

It has to be out of her own will, they said. And here he is, watching y/n with his eyes that had taken up a shade of dark purple. The lack of lighting within her chambers had given him a good camouflage for his frown. He got her, to surrender her heart by her own will. But, Rafayel could not do it.

His right hand reached up to wipe the tears falling down her cheeks and he spoke softly, as if to conjure up whatever willpower he had left within his system to convince her to stop talking about this. "My love, you know I could not bear to lose you. I know my people may be in pain and suffrage, but I also know that you deserve the world. With me."

"BUT I ALREADY SAID I CAN!" Y/n shouted, the grabbed the candle holder by her bedside table and threw it across the room, her tears are now flowing like streams down her cheeks. Rafayel held her as she collapsed into his arms, sobbing and curling into a ball. Her voice a hushed whisper as she spoke. "How is living here any better than being dead? I am constantly locked in my tower, I had only ever been out whenever you are around and I just can't find myself to live like this anymore."

Her sigh ached Rafayel's heart, it hurts him deeply to watch her cry and to watch her make such a decision for him, for his people. He was caught up in between, eyes wandering across her dark room as the last source of lighting was put out. The moonlight however, casted a silvery-bluish sheen into the room, making the overall room more gloomy than it already is.

Rafayel took in a deep breath, muttering something about 'there must be another way to this', and he used his long index finger to lift up her chin, so her eyes meet his. "My love, I want you to stay put right here. I will be back by dawn tomorrow and we shall make a final decision on this. Please, heed my advice and just stay here alright? I will be back for you, as always my quintessence."

He placed a kiss on her forehead, her cheek and lastly on her lips. Just like how he would always comfort her. Pulling back, he noticed the way her eyes struggled to open and with that, he slowly laid her back onto her bed, and tucked her in. She must be exhausted from the amount of crying she had for the night. Smoothing his hand over her silky brown hair, he presented a sad smile, eyes wavering while he looked at her for one last time for the night.

He had to make a choice, either it would be to sacrifice her or to sacrifice his people. Both bringing an equally heavy burden to his heart and soul. Call him a god, they said. But he is no longer one as he harbored such selfish thoughts to his own desire. Putting on his mask, he got off of the bed, stood at the window and then plunge down into the waters below.

...

It has been a few hours, and y/n rose from her bed, still groggy from her sleep. She looked out of her window to find her windows were widely opened, the moon shining brightly and she wondered to herself when did Rafayel left. It should be a couple of hours ago as the last thing she recalled was his lips on her face. And she recalled meeting him right after dinner time ended.

A whistling tune was heard from outside of her window, a tune so melodic that she was enchanted to approach her window sill. Her hands glided over the smooth stone slab and she peeked her head out before she was met with a boy in the waters below her towers. The scales on his body signified that he is a Lemurian, just like Rafayel.

"What are you doing here?" Y/n panicked, eyes darting all over her surroundings to scan for any witnesses around. You see, if Lemurians were caught, they would be pawned off to the wealthy, as it showcases the sign of one's wealth. And that was how Rafayel met y/n. But y/n knew that possessing a Lemurian would not grant her a new status nor the freedom she had longed for, hence, she freed him after they had promised to find each other again in the future.

"My name is Arvia---" Before he could even finish, he coughed, desperately holding onto his chest as he heaved for his breath. "I came to---" Another cough, one of his hand sprung out from the water to close his mouth, to silence his coughs as he did not want to draw any unwanted attention. As he withdrew his hand, y/n gasped. Crimson stain on his pale white hands, people on land may have identify it as lung infection, but she knew that Lemurians are leaning towards the grim reaper's will.

"Please, please my quintessence, I know My Highness would not let us near you." Blood trickled down the sides of his lips as he spoke. "But I plead you, as my mother has been in suffrage for the past few days, she could not speak anymore, let alone sing. All of my siblings are met with ill coughs, just like mine, carrying crimson taints. I beg of you, shall you have the means to save Lemuria, please meet us at the sea stacks as dawn strikes."

Another cough comes at the end of his sentence and she watched as he harshly pounded his chest, as if doing that would ease his cough better. "I'll be there!" Y/n responded without hesitation and her determined eyes were met with Arvia's aquamarine ones. The young merman wiped the blood off of his lips and he nodded his head before he dived back into the water, a hint of his tail peeking out as he swam back into the deep waters.

Y/n rushed back into her room and opened her wooden wardrobe, eyeing the gowns that she owns and picking one out that is made of the thinnest material possible. She wanted her movements to be stealthy and languid, hence the thin material would come to be more useful than a heavier drape. She changed into the white gown, and grabbed her fur coat to drape it over her small stature. Glancing at herself for the last time in the mirror situated next to her wardrobe, she felt a pang of sadness coarsing through her body.

She has chosen her own journey, she has decided on her own death. But it was all for the better right? One small sacrifice for the greater good. Staring at her own reflection, she realised her tears had streamed down her face. Why is she crying? She had no idea. But perhaps it has something to do with the ending of her life. No matter how convinced she is of her death being a greater sacrifice, she could never forgive herself for going against her lover's will.

She wiped off her tears and huffed. "This is it. My death shall come with a greater meaning. Rafayel would understand eventually." Before she could change her mind, she grabbed the rope Rafayel had made for her and she tossed it out of the window to climb down from her tower.

...

Perhaps the gown was not the best idea. Strong winds and thin gowns are not exactly complimentary to one another. Her fur coat however, ended mid waist so the length below her waist was bare to the wind's torture. It took her quite a while to arrive to the location that was appointed by the merman.

The huge rock sat in the middle of the sea, unwavering as the waves crashed against it. The sky was dark but along the silhouttes, there was hints of an orangy-yellow shade, a sign that dawn is approaching. Y/n took off her footwear and laid them onto the sand, and she took off her coat to lay it next to her footwear. The wind batted against her whole body even more harshly, making her shiver and tremble as she made her way into the waters.

As the sun started to rise even more, she noticed a few heads emerged from the further ends of the vast ocean, as if watching her as she made her way towards the rock. Arvia then bobbed his head out of the waters and he spoke. "You came, my quintessence. Come, take your seat on the rock." He looked ghastly, eyes sunken in and scales fading of its usual bright colours. He held out his hand and guided y/n up towards the rock.

Another merman surfaced from the depths of the ocean and y/n recognised this merman. He was always stuck to Rafayel's hip when she met Rafayel for the first couple of times. She never got to know of his name but she assumed that he plays an important role in guiding and supervising Rafayel's actions. "I believe we had met for a few times, when I was on land with My Highness. My name is Amund and I was summoned by my people to perform the sacrificial ritual on you."

His eyes glinted a sheen of red as he spoke to her. Was this the guy that Rafayel had warned her about? 'My people are of gentle nature, but I am afraid one shall lead them all towards perdition.' Rafayel's voice rung in her head. "Do you, my quintessence, know the risk of such sacrificial ritual?" Amund questioned her, eyes raking over her body in an uncomfortable manner.

"I will be able to save Lemuria right?" She responded, eyes filled with hope. "Will I?" She second guessed herself and Amund said nothing but nodded. He raised his hand to beckon to his fellow Lemurians and some of them started approaching her. "Wait, what is happening?"

"As long as my quintessence is at will to give us the God of Sea's heart, we will ensure that the sacrificial ritual is done with the utmost care and respect you deserve." A dagger appeared in Amund's hand. Silver dagger with red crystals adorning it's hilt, it definitely does look like a ceremonial dagger.

"Are you going to drown me first? Rafayel told me that as long as I am willing to give out my heart, then I could be drowned prior to the ceremony. Is it not?" She remembered Rafayel told her some details about how the ceremony takes place but given she was not drowned yet, she was curious if there was a different course of ceremonial action. "My quintessence, as I mentioned earlier, you deserve the utmost care and respect for your sacrifice for the people of Lemuria." He held up the dagger and gave a look towards the other mermans that were surrounding her. "Make sure she stays still throughout the ceremony." The mermans then grabbed her arms and legs and they stretched her limply across the rock. Y/n however, knew that she could not back up anymore at this point.

But, what she did not know was that this so-called ceremony was nothing more than a mere revenge to be taken upon Rafayel. The god who chose to leave his people to pursue his love with a mere mundane. Amund, does not approve of this relationship and neither does he want that to ever happen again. He wants to watch Rafayel suffer like how his people did.

"Stay still my quintessence, this would hurt." Without another word, Amund stabbed the dagger into her collarbone and y/n screamed in pain, tears started flowing from her face but she could not move as she was held down tightly. The pain did not stopped as the dagger dragged from her collarbone to the sides of her breasts. Her screams never falter just like her blood that never stopped flowing, staining the rock and eventually dripped into the ocean.

...

Rafayel had returned to her chambers but she was nowhere to be found. "Y/N? Y/N?" He called out to her name quietly as he walked towards her bed. Flipping the sheets, he was only met with the sight of her pillow stacked together to form a silhouette of her. He turned around and noticed the wardrobe that was sprung open, and her satin lounging attire tousled into a ball on the hardwood floorings. Confused, he looked over to the window sill and his guesses were right, she had escaped from her tower.

Without hesitation, the God of the Sea jumped out of the window and plunged right into the waters, not even caring if that had caused a huge splash to alert the guards as he had no time left to spare. He had to rescue her.

Earlier on, when Rafayel had left her chambers, he went back to Lemuria to speak with Amund. When he arrived at Armund's door, Arvia came out of the house, eyes widened when he was face-to-face with the lilac-haired God. "Your highness." Arvia half bowed and went along his way. Swimming past Rafayel and off into the weeds that were littered around the towns of Lemuria.

"What was Arvia doing here?" Rafayel asked as he closed the door to Amund's abode and finally meeting Amund's eye.

"His family was in dire need of some pearl essence. His mother's throat was ruined and his siblings are all ridden with coughs that drains their blood." Amund responded as he placed vials and bottles of medicine back onto the shelves. The clinking and clanking of the vials and bottles are the only sounds filling the silence before he continued. "Your Highness, you cannot delay any further. Our people are dying. And they desperately need the heart."

"Amund, listen." Rafayel spoke in a stern tone, hands running through his lilac strands as he looked frustrated. "I can't bring myself to do it. I just can't." The vial containing the pearl essence floated out of Amund's grasp and he looked at Rafayel with widened eyes. There comes the shouting, "You would rather watch Lemuria wilt just to save a woman that you have feelings for?! How dare you say that?! What do you think the people of Lemuria would have thought, that their one and only hope has decided to betray them all for the sake of a mere mortal?!"

Rafayel winced at Amund's booming voice, although he looked saddened with the situation at hand, his voice maintained the same as his posture, still and calm. "There shall be another way to change fate. I will do whatever I can to save my people but without the cost of losing my beloved bride. The decision is final." He turned to leave but stopped, whipped his head back and he warned. "Anyone who acted against my orders shall die upon my hand."

...

The waves batted against the shores, feigning a scene where the water desperately wants to come onto the shore. Just like how the mermans once dreamed of wanting to walk on land and having to dive back into the waters based on their own will. But they were bound, bound to the waters as coming onto land would not impose any leverage for them.

Rafayel ran across the beach, eyes searching every inch of land and water to find his beloved. The sun is rising and the pastel skies no longer gave Rafayel a sense of comfort but it added onto his paranoia, assumptions of the worst case scenario constantly teasing their way into his mind.

His heart suddenly hurt like someone had shot him with a canon ball and he fell in his steps, clutching onto his chest as he struggled to breathe. Not long after when he regained his breath, something felt different in him. Something felt like a--- a beating heart. Rafayel gasped at the feeling as it further confirmed his nightmare.

He ran as fast as his mundane legs could carry him down the shore and passing a cliff, he witnessed a figure, sprawled out on a rock limply, and he screamed. "Y/N!"

He trudged the waters and climbed up the rock, not even caring that the barnacles had sliced off pieces of his sole. He did not care at all as the scene in front of him would trigger bloodshed afterwards. Y/n laid on the rock, eyes closed, but blood trailed from her eyes, nostrils, and ears, staining her once beautiful white dress into a bright crimson red. Her chest bared a gaping hole exactly where the heart was supposed to be situated.

Rafayel reached out his shaky hands to touch her cheeks and in that moment, he got a brief flashback of her last moments. Her screams echoed through his mind, but none of her screams mouthed the word 'STOP'. Amund was there, alongside with a couple of other mermans that were holding her down. Amund was slicing into her skin, carelessly opening up a big hole on the left side of her chest just to retrieve the heart from her.

Rafayel's tears streamed when the flashback showed y/n stopped screaming and twitching when Amund grabbed the heart out of her body, holding it high up in the air as if it was some trophy earned. And just like that, the flashback ended and Rafayel was snapped back into reality, with her body laid right in his arms. He whimpered, but no sounds were emitted from his throat, his cries were silenced by the throbbing pain within his heart.

Watching her pale and faceless expression, Rafayel held her face close to his neck, getting his body stained with her blood like how he would always get paint stained on his clothes whenever he was painting portraits of her. But this time, he did not want the stain to be washed off. He did not want it to fade either, as it would remind him of the pain his own people had brought upon him.

"Why?" He asked the air, as you would no longer be the one to reply to him. "Why would they do this to you?" His voice a hushed whisper as the ocean started to rage. "Why couldn't they at least make it painless for you?" He was referring to the drowning that should have taken place prior to the ceremony of removing her heart. It would have hurt way lesser than this, it would have been more comforting, it would have lessen the bloodshed that would be committed by Rafayel.

"I will always, always wait for you my love. No matter how long it takes." He stood up, with her still in his arms, and he looked out into the horizon, staring into the waves that would soon remind his people of his identity of being the God of the Sea. The dark clouds started to close in, accompanied with lightning strikes that fears the men at seas. Rafayel held her lifeless body, clinging onto whatever warmth that was left from her body before he mustered up the courage to say this. His eyes turned from the usual blueish-purplish shade to a dark set of purple pupils. "I shall bring damnation to my people as how they had brought damnation to me."

Sequel here: Retribution

Parallel Universe Ending is up! Read through Retribution and you shall find the link for the parallel not-so-angsty ending!

And there you go my darlings, I wanna watch that tear drop :)

I think I will come out with an alternate not-so-angsty ending if i feel like it sometime in the near future. Lemme know what you guys think hehe <3. If any of you fancy for any requests of similar calliber or even new ideas, drop me a dm :>

[thebestofoneshots]

No Sweeter Innocence than Our Gentle Sin Pt.2 | Remus Lupin x Reader

Read Pt.1

Pairing: Priest!Remus x reader

Word Count: 14 k

Prompt: You did not want to go to church that day, but your spirits are uplifted when you meet Father Remus, and your mind starts creating a mischievous scheme, to both retaliate over those years of being forced to go and take something from them.

Alternatively, R is really mad at the church and decides to steal one of their priests for it (but also kind of falls for him).

Warnings: SMUT, Non-apt for Christians(?). Reader is a little cynical (or maybe cynical Af). Suggestive talks, touching oneself, fingering,  oral (male and female receiving), dry humping, P in V. Reader seduces a Priest (so whatever you might expect from that), hierophiIia, corruption!kink, praise!kink (if you squint). Consent is sexy!

 Proofread by lovely @aremuslupinsimp

♡ NSFW: Smut under the cut

ACT VI: You shall not take the name of the LORD your God in vain

You quickly put the straps of your dress back on and wiped your hand on the inside lining of the skirt. You walked out of the door. You looked around, the church was as empty as it got, you smiled and knocked on his side. 

“You may come out, father,” you said, teasingly. 

You heard some adjusting, “I’m having a bit of an issue.” 

You giggled. “Yeah, I’m gonna help you fix that,” you responded, opening the door yourself and taking his arm, pulling him towards you. He stood up and roughly accommodated his coat over his boner. You bit your lip as he did and he gave you a rather impassive look, as if telling you that whatever you might do, could be going overboard. “Do you have an office?” 

“No.” 

You hummed, dissatisfied at his answer. “A place where you guys give talks? like for people who are going to get married and stuff? I know I was in one of those when I was my cousin’s godmother.” 

Remus seemed to think about it. 

“We can’t go there.” 

“Why not? You don’t have the keys?” 

“I do! But it’s not safe, if someone walks in–” 

“Oh,” you said with a smile and looked down at his boner again. “I’m pretty sure it won’t take too long.” 

Remus huffed, still rather unconvinced. So you placed your hand on his shoulder and pulled him down slightly so you could whisper something in his ear. His eyes shone and he turned to you with a gulp. “Are– are you sure?” 

You simply nodded in response. 

He shut his eyes and sighed, “We shouldn’t be doing this.” 

“You’re probably right,” you agreed, condescendingly.

“That would be like crossing the line.” 

“I suppose it would.” 

“Let’s go,” he said. 

It was Remus, that looked preoccupied but determined, who led you to the back of the church. You walked right next to the altar, your gaze lingered over it for a second before you went into one of the smaller rooms beside it, and then into another one. You knew the church was huge, but you hadn’t quite dimensioned it entirely. 

He was quick to come in and he shut the door. Turning to you as he bit his lip, he was still hard, and you leaned closer to him. “Allow me,” you said with an innocent smile, dragging him closer to the centre of the room. You placed your hands on his shoulders. “Breathe.” 

He did as told, a deep long inhale, and then a soft exhale, his breath smelled of mint, and a little bit of cigarette smoke. Remus had long ago stopped smoking, but since you appeared, and told him all about the things that’d happened in your dream, he’d taken up that terrible vice again, one of the few things that calmed his nerves. 

“Listen to my voice, I mentioned there was a way to control it, right? That I would teach you?” 

“Please do.” 

“Well, It’s quite simple,” you said as you rubbed your hands over his strong-toned arms, reassuringly. You were not expecting Father Remus to be so solid under all the religious attire, but you thought it was a wonderful surprise. You leaned a little closer to him, enough for your bodies to touch. You felt his boner against your stomach and you’d swear you felt how you clenched around nothing. But it’s not time yet for that. You told yourself. 

You knew it was a long game when you started and you were not about to ruin it all due to the heat of the moment, you weren’t that idiotic. 

“If you want to control those impulses, then you must give in to them.” 

He opened his eyes surprised when you placed your hand on him, carefully, tentatively, and pleasantly subdued. Your hand was much softer and kinder than his own had ever been, much smaller too. He shut his eyes close, his breath was ragged and looked like he might have been in pain. 

“Too sore still?” He nodded. “May I?” you asked as you placed your hand on his belt. He swallowed, unsure, and you stopped moving your hands. “Do you want to?” 

“But it’s wrong,” he excused. 

“Remus I didn’t ask if it was. I said ‘Do you want to?’ Because I’m dying to touch you but if you don’t want to then we should end this here and now.” 

“No!” he said, almost too quickly. If he’d had the willpower, that might have been the one and only moment in which things could have turned around. The sharp crossroad of decisions that would have allowed you both to choose a different result. But he didn’t want you to stop, he wanted you to do it, like he hadn’t wanted anything in his life before. “I want to,” he said in a low breath. 

You smiled, innocently, and started to unfasten his belt. Then slowly you went for the buttons of his trousers and the zipper. There, straining against his boxers, you could see the outline of his cock. Your breath hitched in your throat, he was big. You had seen that already but you hadn’t dimensioned it, but now, right in front of you? It was easy to see just how big he was, how pretty, you thought as you carefully slid the band of his boxers underneath. 

Remus hissed as the cold air prickled his sensitive skin, and you slid one of your hands, carefully, tauntingly, from his stomach and down to his cock. You were careful and light, you slid one of your fingers along his shaft, and you could tell he was stifling a groan. You looked up to him, he was biting his bottom lip and closing his eyes like he was really trying to concentrate. You looked at him and smiled, wrapping your hand around him in a grip so gentle it was as if you weren’t quite touching him. 

“Does it still feel sore?” you asked. 

He turned to you and nodded, breath ragged, he refused to look at your hand wrapped around his cock, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to forget it if he did. 

“That’s okay then, I know how we can solve it,” you said and started to lean down. Remus looked at you with shock as you levelled your head with his hips. 

“What are you–” he started, panic rising in his voice. 

“Shhh,” you said gently. And then leaned closer, pressing a small kiss to his tip. 

“Will you–” 

You pressed another kiss and he let out a short, ragged breath. Then you wrapped your mouth around him, just at the very tip, and felt the slightly salty taste of him against your tongue. Precum, you realised. Remus was as responsive as it got, and you loved that in an almost deranged way.  First, you just lapped your tongue around him. Slow and steady, listening in to the moans he tried to suppress. 

Remus’ hand was tense beside him, he didn’t know where to touch, he didn’t know what to do with them either. He was too in awe at your actions. You looked like an angel as you peppered kisses along his shaft and then wrapped your mouth around him. Always so incredibly fucking soft, it was insane. He thought he’d seen heaven with you in the confessionary, but he had barely gotten a glimpse at the gates back then. 

Eventually, you pushed yourself deeper into his shaft and started to bob your head. The sound he made was music to your ears, and fueled your determination. You quickened your pace and allowed him to push further into your throat, bordering the line between uncomfortable, but it didn’t matter, not when Remus was moaning like that. You imagined yourself with that beautiful cock of his inside of you and the mere thought turned you on even further. He moaned and cursed and kept saying all kinds of things in between mutters and ragged breaths. 

“Oh, God!” he breathed, when you used your hand to jerk the section of him that you couldn’t reach with your mouth, “Oh my GOD!” 

That one was by far your favourite of all his curses. 

Forget about fuck, and shit, when he said ‘Oh God’ when he sinned for you, that was what you loved the most. 

At some point, he started inadvertently pushing his hips into your mouth, “I’m sorry,” he said as politely as he could when he heard you cough, “I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry.” 

You looked up at him and he swore he’d never seen something as delightful as your teary eyes and your mischievous little expression. Your lips, though wrapped around him, were almost curving into a somewhat smile and you winked at him as you went back to moving your head.

“Fucking hell,” he breathed, his head fell back, breath ragged and moans escaping almost indiscriminately now. Then there were steps outside, far enough but Remus had always had a keen hearing. “Someone’s coming,” he warned, as he leaned on, a slightly worried expression. 

You leaned back, a line of spin connected your mouth and his cock and he felt a surge of electricity go through him at the sight. “How close are you?” you asked, panting. 

He gave you an exasperated look and you smiled, “I can work with that,” you said before going back and bobbing your head and jerking your hand faster than you had previously. Remus used one of his hands to cover his mouth and you tried not to laugh when you realised it.

“I’m going to–” he started, as he tried to push you out of him, but you were reluctant and you kept bobbing your head. He was both filled with pleasure and with stress. “Angel, stop. I won’t be able to hold it,” he tried next. And then, you felt it, the first ribbon of cum crashing into your mouth. He thought you’d pull back, disgusted at what he’d done to your precious mouth. “I’m sorry,  angel. I’m sorry I’m–” 

He was at a loss of words, rather than stopping and looking at him with disgust –like he expected– you just kept going, sucking him off until he was empty. The steps had grown louder by now, and there seemed to be some shuffling just outside the door. 

He pulled out a napkin for you to spit on it while looking nervously at the door, you gave him a smile and swallowed. “Isn’t it the almighty that says you should never spill your seed?” you said with a mischievous smile and his mouth went dry. 

You pressed a kiss to his happy trail and helped him tuck back in. The knob had started to move now. “Place your hand on my head, now!” 

“What?” He asked, confused. 

“Say a blessing or something, whatever it is you guys do,” you added in a quick whisper. You leaned your head down, closed your eyes, and placed your hands in front of your chest as if you were praying. 

ACT VII: You shall not bear false witness against your neighbour

Remus started to mutter something, and you remained in your place, licking the bit of cum that had slid down the corner of your lips earlier. 

The door burst open, and surprisingly enough, Remus stayed focused on his blessing, rather than turning around startled like you had expected him to. Either your little ruse had tired him, or he was a lot more scheming than he seemed. Perhaps as much as you were. Remus opened one of his eyes and looked at the man at the door, giving him a short acknowledging nod.

“Oh, I’m sorry–” the man hurried. He had a thick, velvety voice, resonant but not loudly disagreeable. “I thought the place was empty,” he added, adjusting his belt. You were not looking at him, since your back was turned, but the urgency in his voice was evident. 

“I was just giving this child a blessing,” Remus said calmly. “I’m afraid her aunt is very ill, and her family is losing hope. Care to join us?” 

You tried not to look surprised when he said that, you’d never seen Father Remus lie through his teeth so seamlessly. But you weren’t one to complain. You stood up suddenly, a saddened expression filled your face, “That won’t be necessary, Father. I’ve already consumed enough of your time,” you said meekly, and then, throwing him a look, you added, “and your blessings…” 

He threw you a warning glance, and you just smiled, diverted, your back still turned to the other man. You leaned in and pressed a small kiss to Remus’ cheek, muttering a ‘Thank you’, just loud enough for the other man to hear. By the time you turned around, your face was solemn looking again. 

You nodded towards the other father as you passed by, he had long hair and was rather good-looking as well. He eyed you with amusement. Remus cleared his throat. “Will you come back? For another blessing… I mean.” 

You turned around, “Of course, Remus. However, could I go on without them?” 

He nodded in return, more reassuring himself than anything. And watched as your dress flowed out of his sight. 

“That’s a sweet little lamb you got there,” the long-haired man said with a mischievous smile. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” Remus said and walked towards the exit. “I’ll go fulfil my duties,” he added as he walked out. 

“Of course,” the other man replied, the amused smile still playing on his lips. “Have fun.” 

Remus gave him a tired sort of look, something close to an eye roll, and left. 

Remus had never lied as much as he had lied that week. It started with that simple lie and then it just went on and on and on. 

“Father Lupin, could you take care of the Church retreat next week?” 

“I’m sorry, I have a family thing on Saturday. I’m on grandma duty.” 

Remus was, in fact, not on grandma caring duty. There was no grandma caring duty whatsoever in his family. Mrs. Lupin was old but held strong, and she would never ask to be taken care of, she had always been stubborn like that.

Then another time, he had locked his room door, ready to feed his delusions with the thought of you when there was a sharp knock on his door. 

“Father Lupin!” an urgent voice said on the other side, “Father Lupin!” 

Remus half opened his door and tried not to look too annoyed when one of his deacons waited at the door. He had opened it slightly, only letting his head through as he looked at the boy. He was the small blond-haired kid who he sometimes found amusing because of how much trouble he managed to get into. Not today though, not when it distracted him from the thought of you. 

“What is it?” he asked, slightly impassive. “I was in the middle of a very important prayer.” 

Yeah, right! He was definitely going to say God’s name a good deal of time but not in the way it would be expected of him. 

The kid gulped, he had never seen Father Remus be so stony. He was always kind and good-natured, no matter what. Heck, he had accidentally walked in on him while changing and Father Remus –although he hated people seeing his scars– had only ushered him out with a light reprimand and instructions to always knock on the door before walking in. 

“I’m– I’m sorry,” the boy staggered. “It’s just that the bishop was looking for you.” 

Remus sighed, also annoyed that his plan was ruined, shut the door, put on his shoes and stepped out again, still looking cross as he followed the boy to the Bishop’s office. 

“How may I help, Your Grace?” 

“Ah, Remus,” the old man said when he spotted him. “I’ve been told how excellently you’ve been performing on Wednesdays lately.” 

Remus didn’t speak, but he looked at the man attentively, the bishop liked to speak, and it didn’t take long for him to continue.

“The head priest was telling me how brilliant you’ve been. He’s seen you confessing, and dedicating the confessions it’s due time which can be complicated, and even tiresome. And you’ve always proved to be a very responsible young man. As you know most of the church will be heading to the retreat starting next Monday. 

“Of course, the church must not be left alone. But since you are not going to the retreat, and I have not had the opportunity to attend one for some time, some of the head priests and I thought it would be a sensible idea to leave the church at your charge. I believe there are a few other priests who will stay, but you would act as my eyes and ears during the week we’re gone. How does that sound?” 

Remus drew in some air, completely inexpressive as he tried not to think of all the wonderful things that could happen with the church all to himself. 

“It would be an honour, Your Grace.” 

“I thought you’d say that,” the man replied with an affable smile. “Thank you for your time, Father Lupin. I’m sure the church will be in good hands.”

“Of course, Your Grace,” Remus replied as he nodded to the man politely and he exited the room. 

That Sunday you’d gone to mass with your grandma again, she’d come back to the city and she had insisted on going to the beautiful church with her. Of course, this time around, you hadn’t been as angry about having to go to the church as before, if anything, you were excited about it.

Remus was absolutely delighted when he spotted you and your grandma. He had been dying to tell you that he’d be in charge of the church, that you could stay for longer, and not worry so much about being seen with him next week. That’s how he realised he had, in fact, no way to contact you outside of the church. 

You had always been the one to come to him, like an angel, uninvited but always welcomed. 

When he saw you walking beside your grandma, at a very slow pace and holding her arm as you climbed up the stairs to the entrance of the church, he was quick to excuse himself from the boring conversation he’d been having with the old lady who insisted on telling him all about her rogue godson and walked straight your way. 

“Ma’am, allow me to help,” he said politely and took your Nan’s other arm. Your grandma looked at Father Remus and gulped. 

“To what do I owe the honour of being helped by a Father?” she asked. 

“Oh, it’s just very nice to see you, it’s been a while,” Remus replied. 

“She’s not from around,” you explained. The way your lips moved, he’d dreamed about kissing them before but the need for that now was consuming him like a burning fire. He’d never thought of mass as boring or dull, today it hadn’t even started and he already wanted it to be over with. To have you, and to have you alone. 

“Of course,” Remus said. “But seeing your granddaughter so often–” 

“So often?” your Nan asked, surprised, turning to the man.

“Well, she’s been coming to mass, Ma’am.” 

“You have?” she asked, turning to you with a surprise. “You never told me!” 

“I guess I’ve found my way back into faith,” you said. “Perhaps all I needed was a good enough incentive to come to church more often,” you added, throwing a knowing look at Remus. 

“Incentive, of what kind?” 

“Well, how beautiful mass is given here, of course,” you lied. “Didn’t you find it delightful? The way the priests here preach? Remus is especially good at it, you should hear him say god. It’s always so… heavenly when he does.” Remus threw you a warning look, and you gave him a small, almost imperceptible smirk, and then winked, just before turning to your Nan. “Unfortunately he does not preach on Sundays.” 

“What a shame,” she said. You were already all the way up the stairs and you helped her into her seat. “See you around, Remus.” 

“It’s Father Remus–” your Nan started her chiding but shut up the second Remus turned to you with a kind smile and said. 

“See you around, dove.” He didn’t think too much about it, not about the nickname or how softly he’d said it. How loving it had been. 

“Dove?” your Nan asked you, Remus had already taken off towards the back of the church to change into his alb. 

“Oh, it’s like Lamb, Remus says that all the time,” you said dismissively, although you really wanted to laugh. Your Nan wasn’t stupid, she might be able to catch on, and perhaps she would have, if she didn’t have such blinding faith in priests, and of course, in Remus in particular.

You weren’t sure you’d mind too much. Surely she wouldn’t talk about it for fear of becoming a scandal, and no matter how good she thought of you, she might take the church’s side and blame you for corrupting Remus –which was arguably right. In the end, she had already called you heathen once, it wouldn’t be that complicated for her to notice, and feel guilty about being the one to bring you into the church.

It had been, after all, her fault that you ended up meeting Remus.

But even if you didn’t mind it, you feared Remus might have, so you decided to gaslight her into believing you were the innocent angel that Remus insisted on alluding to when referring to you. It was better that way, it would be easier to continue that way. And of course, you wanted to go all the way with Remus. you wouldn’t be done until it was done. And at this point, petty revenge wasn’t the only thing driving you. You liked Remus, how innocent and forthcoming he was, you thought he was absolutely charming. 

When the mass was done, you walked your Nan down the huge steps and helped her to the taxi. The church was pretty full still, but the desperate glances that Remus had thrown your way several times were enough for you to know that he wanted to talk to you. Especially that one reproachful look when you licked your lips as he gave you the host. 

You walked up the long steps again and spotted him being flooded by some ladies. Three older women who were all talking at the same time and he seemed to have trouble following, a girl younger than you looking at him like he was  Robert Redford –Remus was prettier than that–, and babbling something about her first communion along with one of the older ladies who shared her hair colour. And a smaller girl running around his feet and pulling on his pants aggressively every now and then while saying ‘Look at me, Father! I can twirl now’. 

You gave him a short look with a diverted smile and walked towards one of the seats. He looked at you with a pleading glance, his eyes opening wider as he clearly said ‘Help me out of this’. Remus knew you were clever enough to have all the people around him scatter, but instead, you sat down, pulled a book from your bag and read while you waited. 

You felt someone sitting next to you, “How’s your aunt?” 

You turned around with a frown, it was the long-haired priest who had almost caught you and Remus. He had beautiful grey eyes. Now that you actually paid attention to him: he was regal. If you had seen him before Remus, things might have gone an awful lot different. 

“She’s better,” you said, closing the book and turning to him attentively. 

“Are you here for another blessing?” He asked, he had a shrewd, very fox-like look on his soft and elegant features, as if he knew something and he wanted you to know he did. 

“Well, yes and no.” 

“I could help,” he said and placed a hand on your leg. On your bare leg that is. You had worn a skirt that day as well. You looked at his hand and then back at him. If he expected you to blush, he was surprised to see the way you smiled, averted your gaze and rolled your tongue over your teeth. You would have been more than welcome to accept this man’s advances if it wasn’t for the fact that you already had another one in sight. Who was, coincidentally, walking towards you right now. 

“I’m afraid you couldn’t,” you said as you cocked your head to the side. 

“No?” 

“I’m about to hire Remus for a hospital visit, my aunt is very fond of him.” 

When Remus reached the two of you, he gave the grey-eyed Father a murderous look. You smiled and gave him a small wink. “I was just telling Father, uh…” 

“Black,” the man said with a smile. 

“Black, right? I was just telling Father Black that I’m here to talk to you about the thing we discussed earlier. About visiting my aunt?” 

“Of course,” Remus said. The little girl had trailed behind him and was stopped by her mother right before she clung to his leg again. 

Father Black laughed and waved the little girl goodbye in a rather charming way. Remus threw a look at him which he returned in an equally taxing manner, then Remus nodded to his hand on your leg. He hadn’t even gotten close to touching your velvety legs and here Sirius had his hands all over them, he was livid, although he hid it pretty well. 

“Didn’t you have something to do?” 

Sirius sighed, “I’ve got to visit the convent.” He didn’t seem too eager to go. 

“I’m sure the Nuns will love to see you there, Father Black.” 

He turned to you with a small smirk, there was mirth in his eyes, “You think?” 

“Oh, I’m certain,” you said with a smile, and placed your hand on his wrist to drag his hand away from your thigh.  You stood up, Father Black looked at your legs for a second before he got another murderous look from Remus and stood up himself. 

“I guess this is where our paths diverge,” he said, with a slight dramatic air. 

“Perhaps,” you replied. “Good luck at the convent.” 

“Good luck with your aunt,” he said, with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes and a side look at Remus, who, in turn, just stared down at him. 

“Thank you, hopefully, she’ll get better,” you said, and waved at him politely. 

The second the father stepped out of the way, you felt Remus take a step closer to you, enough for you to feel his heat radiating on your back. You turned to him with a smile and tilted your head to the side, he looked adorable while jealous, “Are you taking confessions, Father?” 

“Didn’t you say you wanted me to visit your aunt at the hospital?” 

You raised an eyebrow, “Don’t you need special permits to leave the church and so on?” 

“Oh, no,” he said with a smile. “We’re not going to leave yet, first we have to make the arrangements at the office.”

ACT VIII: You shall make no idols 

Remus walked you towards a set of stairs, claiming there were old offices on some of the towers that were rarely visited.  As you walked up one of the towers, he lingered only a second while looking down at the stairs behind him, as if he was trying to make sure he had been followed by no one and then continued walking right behind you. It’s here, he said as he pulled out a big, old-looking key and opened one of the doors. 

You expected whatever you found inside to be dirty and filled with spiderwebs and whatnot from lack of use, but it was clean. In fact, it was like a small church museum, with all sorts of church memorabilia, some even hanging from the ceiling. The walls were plastered, and white, as if they had been taken care of not long ago, and there was a desk right in the middle of the room. 

“Well, this is… interesting,” you said as you leaned over the desk and looked around the room.

“It used to be a museum, got shut down a couple of months ago due to lack of visits. Now it’s a place we use to meditate and pray.” 

“And confess, I suppose,” you added with a small, teasing smirk.

Remus stepped towards you, hesitant but not stopping, he was close now. Close enough for you to feel his body heat. “He touched you,” he said as his hand hovered over your leg. 

You gave him a look, cocking your head to the side, “Father Black?”

“Yes,” he said, voice colder than he intended. 

You tried not to laugh at his childish display of jealousness and had to remind yourself how starved for love Remus had been when you first showed up at his confessionary. How you’d had to tell him to touch himself for him to even dare do it under his clothes and how out of practice he’d been. Even then, you couldn’t help but tease him, he looked lovely when he was being teased. 

“Does it bother you?” 

“What right does he have? He didn’t even ask for permission, he placed his dirty hands on–” 

“Right,” you interrupted. “I guess it was certainly unexpected.” 

“But not unwelcomed?” he retorted.

“Not” –he looked at you as if you’d betrayed him– “if I imagined they were your hands instead.” He swallowed thickly, the place was so quiet that the sound he made, combined with the bobbing of his throat, made it beyond evident. You smiled and bit your bottom lip as you looked at him. “Jealousy suits you, Father Remus, with the slight tint of your cheeks, you look delightful.” 

His gaze intensified on yours as if he was trying to look past your flirting and into your soul. Did you really think he was that handsome? With you being as beautiful as you were, he’d expect to see you with someone like Sirius, handsome, strong, pretty. Not with someone as rugged up as he was, not with someone that had scars on his entire body. “More than him?” 

“Than Father Black, you mean?” you teased again, he tensed, and you placed a hand on his arm. But rather than responding, you thought of showing him. “How about–” you started, your hand sliding down his arm until you had your hand in his and pulled it towards you, “How about you touch me like he did and see how I react to you?” 

Remus gulped again as if he couldn’t quite process what you’d said, “You– you want me to touch you?”

“Like in my dream,” you said as you leaned on your hands and sat on the desk better, your legs only slightly parted, not enough for him to realise you’d been wearing no underwear –again– but enough for it to be enticing, your skirt had ridden up just a little bit more, almost as much as Sirius had pulled it earlier with his hand.

Remus was hesitant as he looked at you, eyes blown as he stared but his hand still held firmly on the side. Up until then, it had been you the one to speak, you the one to tell, you the one to touch him however you wanted, he had never been the one to do it. Not even as you blew him had he dared to lay a hand on you. He wasn’t sure if he could debase the holiness of your body with his unworthy hands. 

You, upon seeing his hesitance, spread your legs a little wider for him, tantalising him. Remus was dithering as he leaned closer, you’d expected him to go straight for your leg, after all, you had purposefully laid them out for him, and you couldn’t help but be left breathless when he reached up and brushed his fingers on your face. “You’re so beautiful,” he said, almost in a whisper. The raw honesty he used sent a shiver down your spine, you had been called beautiful before, plenty of times, but none of them had felt as genuine as Remus’ words. As deep-rooted and meaningful. “Like an angel,” he added. 

Your breath was already heavier, and he had only grazed the pads of his fingers over your cheek. He brushed his thumb over your lips for a second before he moved it to the side and dragged it under your chin. One of his fingers behind your ear, and the rest accommodating along your neck while his thumb placed circles over your throat. “And so soft,” he said then. “I’m scared to break you. Like you really are one of those beautiful saint ikons we have all over the church.” 

“I’m far from being a saint,” you said in a whisper, your eyes were as blown as his. The way Remus touched you, how soft and careful he was, how reverential as if each of his fingers was laced with devotion was making you go insane. You weren’t sure anyone had ever touched you like that before, and it made you both crave more and relish in the little he gave. 

“Are you?” he asked. “I always feel like I’m floating when you’re around.” 

You bit your lips as you looked at him, his other hand had travelled to your arm, and he was holding it firmly, but not strongly, as if he was using it as a reassurance that you were real, that you wanted him. 

You bit your lip at that, looking at his, but not leaning into them, “Remus?” You said softly. 

“Yeah?” he breathed. He was enjoying the way your cheeks felt warm under his touch and the way the hair on your arm would stand on end as he traced his feather-light fingers over the back of your hand. 

“Remember my dream?” Remus wanted to respond that he could never forget your dream, that he had it every night, all the different variations of it that had gone through his head were so sinful he should have gone to hell just for desiring you with that vigour. He merely nodded. “Remember what I did after that?” Remus’ eyes lost in his hands, rushed back to your face. 

He hesitated, “You want me to touch you there?” 

You looked down at his hands, your gaze lingering over his broad chest, and the way the tight-fitted cassock looked on him, “Please,” you sighed.

Remus, who had never touched a woman like that in his entire life, was beyond nervous as you guided one of his hands to your leg. He was hesitant, playing with the soft skin of your thigh first, softly closing his hands around them and then letting go, each time, his hand reaching deeper in, closer to your core. You were looking at him with a gaze so lustful you might have as well been possessed by one of the seven deadIy sins. 

Or perhaps, it was him the one possessed. He wasn’t any better as he stared at you, gulping as he touched you, his cock straining against his pants in a way that should have been uncomfortable, but just with the sight of you embracing his inexpert touch became beyond pleasurable.

He’d become a debauchee, he wanted more of you, all of you. And here you were, giving yourself into all his lecherous thoughts, into all of yours. He was drowning in the idea of having you for himself, of making you his, vows be damned, he wanted you more than anything he’d ever wanted before. 

More than God? His mind asked him. Remus stopped moving for a second, and then you placed your hand on his chest, gripped the fabric covering it, and dragged him closer to you, the question was forgotten in an instant, and his hand, almost as in instinct, went right over your slit. But he pulled it back in an instant and looked at you in shock. 

“You’re not wearing any underwear.” 

You took his hand and dragged it back into your thighs, “I never do when I come to see you.”

His breath was slow and ragged, a part of him was furious over Father Black touching you earlier, of you knowingly letting him touch your thigh and ride your skirt up with his unclean hands, of you feeling any pleasure at all from his attention, from knowing that under the skirt there was nothing to stop him from touching you.

But Father Black wasn’t here, Father Black didn’t get to touch you in the way he did, and you had dismissed him with a kind smile, but had never looked at him with the licentious expression you were giving him now. You were not Father Black’s, and you had never been Father Black’s. From the moment you entered that confessionary, you knew what you wanted. And you wanted him. 

Remus’ hand closed the distance between it and your core. And as light as he had been earlier, he traced his fingers over your slit: Steady, kind, supple. Most men had rushed in, desperate to have you, but Remus did it with a patience reminiscent of a wolf stalking his prey. You opened your legs a little wider for him, and shuddered when his knuckle brushed against your clit.

He swallowed and placed one of his hands next to yours as he leaned a little closer to you, his forehead against yours, “Is this okay?” he asked as he repeated the action, his knuckle finding its way between your folds and brushing over your clit again. 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “That’s incredible,” you reassured. 

He did it again and felt his heart start to hammer against his chest when your sighs became soft, almost imperceptible moans. But he heard them, he was the one who got to hear all of those beautiful sounds of yours, and he loved it. 

Eventually, Remus changed his knuckle for his thumb, figuring out a more precise pace made your moans a little louder, as he touched you, as he heard you, he stared at your lips longingly, of what he’d do to kiss your lips, to become his own breath and feel the way they shivered under his touch. But Remus wouldn’t dare to kiss you without you doing it first, he thought you allowing him to touch you in the way you did, was already so much, that he didn’t deserve to also have your lips. 

If only he knew the only reason you hadn’t leaned in to kiss him was because you thought you’d scare him away, he would have closed the gap between the two ages ago. 

“Remus– Rem, Rem,” you said as you placed a hand on his shoulder. The way his name had fallen from your lips, so lascivious, was overwhelming all of his senses, almost making him short-circuit just from your voice. 

“Yeah?” he asked breathily. 

“You can,” you closed your eyes and attempted to focus on your words. “You can put your finger inside if you want.” 

He looked at you with a confused raise of the eyebrows. And then he mustered enough courage to ask for something he had only dreamed of since he saw you touching yourself in the confessionary. “How about my tongue?” 

His bold question was enough to pull you back into reality, his fingers now tracing slow circles over your clit, slow and steady, as if he was trying to keep you warm as you thought about it. He’d paid attention to the way you touched yourself, he’d always been good at learning, and this was no different.

“You–” you hesitated, trying to regain focus. This was him taking control of the situation, and he was brilliant at it. Your breath was heavy as you asked,  “You want to?” 

“I’ve wanted to since that day you gave me your handkerchief,” he admitted. You let out a breathy laugh and used your hands to push further back into the desk, so it was easier for him to bend over you, but instead, he took both of your legs and pulled them to the edge as he kneeled on the floor, levelling himself to your core. His hot breath against you sent a shiver down your spine.

Remus Lupin had never kneeled for anyone other than God or his saints. He had never kneeled for anyone that wasn’t already a spirit in the sky or a very important church figure. And he had certainly never kneeled for a woman. 

But you weren’t just any woman, you were an angel, you were his new saint, the one whose name he would repeat like a prayer over and over every night, the one he couldn’t and didn’t want to stop thinking about. So when he kneeled down for you, he didn’t repent for it. No, he adored the idea of surrendering himself to you, of giving you anything and everything you wanted. 

His angel, if he could, then he’d also bring you to heaven.

Remus looked at your juicy slit before leaning in a little closer and placing a soft kiss on your plush inner thigh. You shivered as he slowly, kiss by kiss, got closer to your core. You almost unwantedly clenched over nothing. He could see your movements, your hips bending just slightly up and your back arching at the mere idea of having him where you needed, and he smiled. Positioning himself right over your slit, but not closing the gap yet.

“Are you ready, angel?” 

“Yes,” you breathed, and Remus didn’t waste a second after that. He leaned down and his tongue traced your slit in the same gentle manner in which he had touched you earlier, he allowed his tongue to explore the outside, licking away all of the juices that had coated you when he used his hands to please you. He moaned when he first got a taste of you. 

Remus became desperate for more soon, his hands pulling you closer to his face and then carefully pushing your legs open wider, looking up at you to make sure you were comfortable in the new position, but without taking his mouth away from your cunt. Your face, leaning down on the desk was one of pure, unabashed bliss. He was doing that, he was taking you to heaven, and he loved every single stroke. 

Your soft moans when he licked, the gasping when he sucked and kissed your clit with a little more forcefulness, the whimpers you made when he brought his hand to your core, both to use his elbow to keep your legs widened and to trace circles over your clit when he distracted himself with licking some other part of you. With kissing or softly nipping at your slit. 

Remus might have not been an expert, but every single sound you made was his guidance, and when you sounded the most pleased,  then he knew that’s where he should stay, that he should keep going at it until you were a moaning mess, until you were pushing your hips onto him and he had to hold you back to continue doing it, since he figured you enjoyed it more than when you rocked your hips onto his face. Not that he minded it, he loved that just as much as the fact that he could touch you. 

“Fuck Remus,” you breathed, “I think I’m gonna…” 

Remus didn’t know much about women getting their climax, only really what his friends had mentioned to him before, and how much harder it was for them. It didn’t seem like that though, it hadn’t been all that hard to get you there, not when he had enjoyed every single second of it thoroughly. 

Remus knew though, that you would need a little extra stimulation to get there, so he switched his fingers from your clit towards your entrance, and his mouth back at your clit. He was soft and slow at first, only teasing the area as if to find it. And then he remembered the way you had done it inside the confessionary and dug his finger in. You gasped, and he did just the same. He didn’t know what the hell to expect it to feel, but it was tight, and soft, and slippery and he couldn’t help but imagine his cock inside, and how the warmth and the pleasure would feel. Divine, you were beyond fucking divine. 

You moaned his name and he curled his finger inside of you, causing you to gasp as he continued to suck at your clit, and then he massaged, softly but purposefully, curling and sliding his finger until you were trembling, one hand gripping at his shoulder and the other one curling on the side of the table, your nails scratching onto the soft varnish coating of the wood. As he looked at you, he realised just how turned on he was himself. He was throbbing behind his trousers, rocking his hips into nothing as he kept kissing you, the slight friction from his underwear was enough to make him want to tremble as well.

Eventually, you stopped trembling, your breath short and eyes closed as you panted. Your legs, which had been tense with clenching muscles, had relaxed into suppleness. He slowed down his movements when you did, easing you out of your high in the most tender way you had ever seen anyone do. Massaging your tights until your panting turned into a softer and more toned down breath, and just when he was sure you were relaxed, he pressed a soft kiss to your slit, as if he was thanking it for letting him touch you in the way he had. Like you would kiss a saint ikon or the feet of the Jesus statue themselves. 

Then he leaned his head on your thigh, and pulled a handkerchief from his trousers, passing it slowly over all the areas he had licked and sucked. Being careful when he got to your slit and noting how much more sensitive you were than at the beginning. When he was done, he pressed another soft kiss, this time to your inner thigh, and then closed his eyes as he enjoyed your warm soft skin pressed onto his cheek. 

You pushed yourself up by your elbows, and your heart fluttered at the tenderness of his expression. It was like a spell had been cast on him, where he looked so soft, like the pure, holy man he was and not like the lust-driven one you had turned him into. 

After looking at him for a minute, you pushed yourself into a sitting position and placed your hand over his head, he looked up at you like you were the most divine thing he’d ever experienced. Almost purring into your hand as you allowed it to brush over his head and neck. “Let me help you finish,” you said softly and slid from the desk, you were right in the middle of him and the piece of furniture, so close to him you could feel his breath on your face. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he said. 

You frowned as you pressed your hand to his lower abdomen, you thought he said it out of shame because he wanted to make you the one blessed today. But you knew that the poor man, starved from touch and probably love, deserved to come more than you who had touched yourself whenever you felt like it for years now. 

So you dug your hand in his trousers, but he was soft, and there was something sticky all over your hand. You pulled your hand out of them and stared at it in shock. “You came?” 

He was looking at you, neck and ears red with shame. Breathing in before nodding. He couldn’t quite decipher your gaze, but he knew enough about sex to know that when a man came early, it meant he was precocious, overly eager and childlike. Remus despised the idea of not being good enough for you, “I’m sorry.” 

“God, don’t be!” you replied. “Did you– were you touching yourself while you…” 

“No,” he said a little too fast. 

“So this” –you moved your hand, looking at his glistening cum on it– “this was just from giving me pleasure?” 

“Well, I’d never–” he started, trying to find an excuse that would make him feel less shameful. 

You just smiled and pulled him into a reassuring hug, leaning your head on his shoulder as you rubbed your hands over his back. “That’s okay, darling… It’s just, I never thought a man would feel such pleasure from doing that to me that he came without further stimulation. If anything, I’m flattered. You must not be ashamed.” 

“But didn’t you want more?” 

“Oh, Remus,” you said as you pulled your head up and leaned close to his ear, enough for your lips to brush against his still-red tips, “I always want more.” 

The way you were wrapped around him, the soft way you spoke, it was strangely reminiscent of the serpent tempting Eve. Wanting him to bite onto the forbidden fruit, the fruit that would be having you in the way he so intensely wanted –needed– to have you. 

Atonement, penitence…. Could he even have one when he didn’t regret any of his sins? When rather than feeling remorseful, he wanted more, more of anything you’d give him, more of you. You were delightful, stunning, and warm and perfect all over, he wanted to kiss you so bad, but he didn’t know if he was allowed. The image of your lips against him might have been more tantalising than the image of his cock inside you.

Satisfying his carnal needs wasn’t enough anymore, he wanted to appease his mind too, and the only thing that had that ability was you. You felt like peace and tranquillity. Like you were his sacred place, more holy than the very walls surrounding the both of you. But above all, he wanted more, he wanted to be able to touch you again, to feel you so close to him again that he could almost touch your very soul. 

“I’m gonna be in charge of the Church during the retreat,” he blurted out.

“Congratulations, Father Remus,” you said with a bit of a smirk, still hugging him as you did. 

“What I mean is– the Church, it’s going to be lonely. Probably just me and a few others who will be too busy studying the scriptures for the Pope’s visit next month.” 

That’s when you pulled back to look at him, a mischievous expression on your face, “Are you inviting me over for the night, Father Remus?” 

“I thought,” he started, and then smirked. “I thought you might want to confess again.” 

ACT IX: I am the LORD your God; you shall not have strange gods before me.

The priests were meant to leave by midday. At 9 in the evening, by the time you were set to arrive, the church looked almost deserted. The people from de Diose that would always be walking around in their robes were nowhere to be seen. In the chairs, there was nothing more than dust. You had seen the last person walk out as you walked inside.

She stood right at the entrance when you were walking up the stairs and then did the sign of the cross as she looked up at the altar. You looked at it as well, the altar at Saint Gryffin was beautiful. Made of marble and carved with a design so intricate it could have belonged to a museum. It had golden touches, that you suspected were not made of paint but rather real gold, and right behind it, a little on the higher side, there was a stunning round, stained-glass window that reflected its colours all over the church when the light hit it a certain way, or so you’d heard a woman claim.

You took a deep breath as you looked at it, outside of the church being the oppressive organism that you disagreed with, there was still beauty to be appreciated. But that was the thing about the world, there was something to appreciate even in the most wretched of things, even the most wicked being in creation, had something to be said for him. They had a huge painting of god casting Lucifer down to Earth near one of the walls, and there always seemed to be people who insisted on drawing the Devil as the most beautiful of men. That had been described in the bible of course, but it was very Wildean of the bible to have a man so corrupted be as delightful. 

Or perhaps it was very biblical of Wilde to write a book where a beautiful man became corrupted, gave in to every single lewd wish they had, and yet, remained as beautiful as an angel.

As your steps echoed on the empty church, you walked straight towards the confessionary. Since both you and Remus thought it was the best place to hide while he was closing it all down. You heard the big doors of the church being closed, and Remus dismissing one of his older deacons, the one who was studying to become a priest, with the characteristic solemnity of a man of the church. 

The same solemnity that seemed to leave him the minute he felt you, standing behind him. You had leaned onto him while he finished up with the locks and whispered in his ear. “Nice to see you again, Father. Will you take my confession?” 

He swallowed, he knew it was your little game, and he decided to play along. “Pray tell child, what have you done this time?” 

“I was walking on the street,” you said. “On a little one of those stores where they sell elegant underwear for women, or well, I suppose they really sell them for men, so they enjoy their women… I saw a little set.” 

“What kind of set?” he asked, his gaze fixed on the wooden door, he pretended to busy himself with the locks, although they were all done by now, he just kept touching them with an air of nervousness that he tried to contain as he spoke. 

“Well, it had a bra, one of those really nice push-up bras that make women’s breasts look delightful, and a small little thing for underwear that’s so transparent I might as well be naked while wearing it. But the best part, Rem, oh, the best part is the matching transparent little robe that came with it.” His breath got stuck in his throat, he resisted the urge to turn around as you pressed your body to his back, leaning so close he could feel your lips touching his earlobe. “Would you like to know the colour?” 

Remus gulped, so loud it almost made an echo in the church. “Yes.” 

“Then turn around and see it for yourself.” 

He did, and there you stood, wearing the exact clothes you had described. He imagined the colour you’d chosen had been forest green, like the girl from his magazine, but he never imagined how absolutely enchanting you’d look in such an outfit. 

“Your little story inspired me, thought you’d like it,” you said with a smile, and then you looked down at the visible bulge in his pants. “I gather you did?” 

Remus was speechless as he stared at you, he was never expecting anyone, let alone you to put such an effort for him, to dress in such a scanty little outfit just to please him. A part of him was dying to take it off, like he’d dreamed with that girl from the magazine, the other part of him, wanted to let you keep it, to have you like that forever. And then, there was the desperate part of him, the one that he couldn’t keep under control as he leaned down and kissed you. His mouth was in yours when he realised he hadn’t even asked if he could. 

“I’m sorry,” he said as he pulled apart. “I’m sorry I didn’t–”

You smiled and placed your hands around his neck, “I thought you’d never do that,” you breathed, and pushed him back into the kiss. His lips were soft, and gentle, and it was you the one to press your tongue against them. He complied with your wish, and suddenly your tongues were dancing with each other, deepening the kiss. 

Remus’ hands found their way to your waist, and he pulled you closer to him, your stomach pressed against his boner, and he almost flinched when he realised and tried to pull his hips back, but you didn’t let him. “I want to feel it, Rem,” you whispered in between kisses. “I like to feel how good I make you feel.” 

“You make me feel better than anything and anyone has ever made me feel,” he retorted. “That’s nothing, that’s just collateral.” 

You could have drowned in his words. But instead, you decided to drown in his lips, returning to kiss him with an even more ardent fervour. You somehow got Remus to sit on one of the benches and he pushed his head to look up at you while you kissed him. His hands had gotten just venturous enough to touch thighs, and the idea that he could was only making him harder. The strain of his cock on his trousers was almost painful at this point. You figured when he had to move one of his hands to adjust himself and hissed at the contact. 

That was enough for you to climb on top of him. “Sweet thing, what are you–” he tried to ask in between a kiss, but you were already rocking your hips against him before he continued, and his words were interrupted by a moan. 

You pulled back and smiled, “Helping you with that tension.” 

He stared at you, the way your swollen lips moved and turned upwards into that very like you smile, and he tried not to eagerly jerk against you the next time you leaned your clothed sex closer to him.  

“This is the first time I ever– fuck…” Teasing you was hard when you were so damn incredible at making him feel in heaven. “I ever see you wearing knickers.” 

“Perhaps your goodness is rubbing off on me,” you replied with an equal smirk. 

“That’s not the thing that’s rubbing onto you,” he somehow managed to joke, and you laughed. A laugh so angelical it might have as well come from heaven altogether, it echoed against the vaulted ceiling of the place and then came back to him in a lower, softer tone that made him smile, and drag you back into a kiss. He was clearly much more confident –or perhaps just more eager– today. 

“Father Remus,” you said as you pushed your hips on him, he struggled to get a grip on reality as he focused on what you were saying. 

“Mhm?” 

“I want to confess.” 

“Right now?” 

“It’s a very sinful thought I’ve had.” 

Remus arched an eyebrow and then moaned when you rolled your hips against him again, making sure he was turned on enough to comply with your, actually very sinful little wish.

“Then tell me, dove. I’ll absolve you. I’d absolve you from anything.” 

“But I don’t want absolution, Father,” you said and let out a shaky breath. “I want you to sin with me.” 

Remus laughed, “Anything you want.” 

“You haven’t even heard my request.” 

“My answer remains the same,” he said solemnly.

You smiled and leaned closer to him, making sure to lean your hips on his, feeling how hard he was on your core making you so wet you were sure your new knickers were already stained. You whispered what you wanted in his ear. Low, steady, as if you weren’t alone in the church. Then you pulled back to look at him, “So?” 

He gulped and looked behind you as if considering your request, there was a nervous gaze on him, a small frown, and you worried your request had been out of line, “I’m sorry,” you said quickly, and pulled from him, leaning on his thighs instead of his hips. A worried expression plastered your features, terrified you might have killed the mood. “If you don’t want to then we don’t have to, we–” 

He pulled you into a kiss, he thought it was lovely how quickly you had changed your mind for him, but his words carried meaning, and when he said ‘anything you want’, he really meant it. He pulled his lips from your and pressed kisses all the way to your ear and then whispered “I was just thinking how to get us there.” 

You were thrumming with excitement by the time he dragged his hands to your thighs and pulled himself up with you wrapped around him. 

“I won’t let you fall,” he said as he noticed you steadying yourself. 

“I know,” you said with a smile and pressed a kiss to his neck that made him falter. “I may have my doubts now.” 

“I would never let you fall, darling, not without going along with you,” he whispered and started walking towards the chancel. He looked at the Bishop’s chair and imagined having you there, but that wasn’t what you’d asked for.  

When he reached the altar, it was easy enough to lean on it and let you sit, the height was just about perfect for him, with how tall he was, your faces were levelled with each other. Remus had been taught to care for the altar, to kiss it, to worship it since it was the symbol of sacrifice, the symbol of God, the cynosure of all eyes during any Eucharistic celebration. He thought it rather proper to place you there, since to him, you were the real cynosure.

And he would treat you like such, he would kiss you, and worship you, like you were God yourself. Because at this point, you might as well have been. 

The altar was bare except for a few candles that he hastily pushed to the side as he stared at you, sitting there with your profane little clothes while still looking as holy as an angel. He had been behind the altar perhaps thousands of times, yet he had never felt nearly as illuminated as he had that moment.

“What?” you asked as you tilted your head to the side, a small smile playing on your lips. 

“Just admiring how incredibly stunning you look,” he said. And then he tilted his head, his tone changed, “I think I need to confess.” 

You smiled, you loved it when Remus joined your little game, you bit your lip and placed your hands on each side of his flushed cheeks. “Speak, dear one, I will absolve you with a kiss.” 

“I want to sullen this sacred table by worshipping a different god on it.” 

“Different? To him?” you asked as you nodded towards the cross in the back. “A better one?” 

“A much more tangible one,” he said. “One that dresses in beautiful lingerie and steals his priests.” 

“Just one,” you corrected. “I only want one of his priests.” 

He chuckled, “Just one then.”

“Come, I’ll absolve you,” you said and leaned closer to him, pressing your lips on his again.

There were warning signs all around Remus’ head. Red flags telling him to stop, voices calling him a harlot, weak of mind and body, a heathen and a pagan. His reproaching father telling him how much of a disappointment he was, the elder being disappointed at his lewd actions, and the part of him that was still a priest telling him to stop before it was too late, before he wouldn’t be able to do it, but that line had long ago been crossed, and all of those thoughts were the easiest thing to ignore when your sweet lips were in his.

You had to be an angel, there was no other way you could make him feel as incredible as you did. And if not an angel, then you really were a god, his Goddess. And so he would venerate you and worship you on the altar like he’d learned to worship his previous god.

ACT X: You shall not kill

Remus stopped kissing your mouth and started placing soft, feather-like kisses all over your face until he got to your neck, gently moving the thin, translucent fabric of the little robe to the side so he could kiss the skin of your collarbone. Open-mouthed kisses and soft licks that felt desperate filled your senses as he pressed his face to your skin and breathed in your smell.

The slight scent of rose he particularly enjoyed when the church was filled with them for a wedding that the soap you’d specifically bought for today had tainted your skin with, the smell of the city air where you had commuted, and the ridiculously delicious natural smell of your skin. He kissed again and again, slowly letting his hands wander through your body, digging them down to the robe until the small bow that tied it was undone and he pushed it off your shoulders and allowed it to pool down on your hips. 

He pulled back to look at you again, lips swollen and red from how much he’d kissed you, lustful gaze lost on you, pupils blown out and softly panting as he regained his breath from the previous kisses. He bit his lips as he stared at your breasts. He’d seen them, but he’d never touched them, you weren’t even sure if he’d ever actually touched a pair in his life, and he had been purposefully avoiding them altogether as he kissed your neck. 

You smiled, “You want to take it off, or do you want me to do it?” 

He swallowed thickly at that, looking up at your eyes as if trying to make sure you were serious about your words, you raised your eyebrows at that. 

“It might be tricky, but I’m sure you’d manage, you’re a clever man, after all.” 

He wrapped his hands around you after that, first on your shoulders, and then he got closer, slotting himself even deeper between your legs as he allowed his fingers to delicately brush over your shoulder blades as his eyes were focused on your neck. You looked at him while he did, your own breath nervous and as slow as you could make it. The way he touched you, the way he revered you with every brush of his fingers against skin was almost overwhelming. 

You bit your lip as his fingers found the clasp, and tightened your grip on the edge of the altar as the anticipation ate you up, his hands were slow, as if he was trying to figure out what the mechanism was before actually undoing it. But once he did, he didn’t take long, with one hand he pressed one side to your back and with the other he undid the clasp. After that, he placed his hand flat on your back and allowed you to rest there for a second before travelling back to your shoulders and playing with the straps. 

He gave a questioning look and you nodded, he didn’t waste time as he slid them down your arms, while carefully removing the green item from your breasts. He saw the way they bounced slightly down and stared at them solely as he removed the rest of the garment and threw it backwards. He got to see the way they perked with the chill air of the night and he stared as if it was the first time he ever looked at them. Perhaps it felt like that since the last time it had been through the confessionary, and he hadn’t even had the time to touch them.

His hands hovered over your breasts before you gave him an approving nod and he leaned close enough to touch them. He went back to kissing your neck as he brushed his thumb over your lower breast and only after he’d felt how soft, and sensitive they were –due to your reaction to his soft touch– did he dare to cup them in his hands. 

“Is that okay?” he asked as he tightened his grip on the one he was holding. “I’m not hurting you, am I?” 

“Not at all,” you responded and leaned closer to him, your other breast brushing against his cassock. “Can I take this off?” you asked as you gripped his shirt.

“You may do as you please to me,” he said honestly. You allowed your hands to travel to his white necktie and pulled it off as you too found a way to kiss his neck. He was pressing kisses to your hair as he delicately brushed his thumb over your nipple and moaned your name from the way you kissed him. It was a little complicated to find the buttons of his shirt at first, but when you did you were quick to undo them and shrug his shirt off. Above it all, you wanted to feel his skin against yours. 

You allowed your hands to brush over his scars, you hoped one day he’d tell you why they were there, but for now you did nothing more than admire them as you kissed from his neck all the way to his shoulder. He sighed your name as he delicately pinched your nipples, and then he allowed his hands to travel to your back and push forward, holding you as gravity pushed you down, allowing your back to rest against the cold marble of the altar. 

“You’re the prettiest thing my eyes have ever laid upon, you know that?” he asked as he looked at you. At your breasts, at your hands, at the curve of your neck and at the way your hair had sprawled all over the marble. The place had been designed so that the light from the stained glass window fell over the altar at certain moments of the night and day, and at that precise moment, it was reflecting all over you, tinting your skin with infinite colours. The light from it was casting a halo around your head.

If Remus hadn’t realised by then that he would not only break his vows for you but do anything you asked, be it eat from the forbidden fruit or kill a man, he knew it when he saw the way you leaned over your elbows and cocked your head to the side, looking at the way he stared curiously. Remus had already forgone his god for you, and he was ready to forgo himself if you asked. 

“Will you kiss me again?” You asked, voice soft, almost innocent. 

“I’d do anything you wanted,” he said honestly and leaned into you, pressing kisses to your neck. You felt his skin against yours, rough and soft and you sighed at the blissful feeling his kisses gave you. His kisses went from your neck to your collarbone and then he tentatively brushed his nose over the valley of your breasts, looking up at your reaction before pressing a kiss to one of them. A  soft and innocent sort of kiss, before he actually opened his mouth and sucked on one of your nipples, nibbling on it when he realised you shivered at the grazing of his teeth. 

Then he continued going down, and slotted himself between your legs, feeling how wet you were over your thin lingerie. He teased you by pulling on the elastic of the knickers, and slid them down your legs before he pressed a kiss to your thigh; and while you were dying to feel his lips on your clit again, there was something else you wanted, something neither of you had dared to try with each other, and if things went anything like they had done the previous time he’d gone down on you, he would have been too spent to do it. 

“Not–” you breathed. “I want to do something else today.” 

He looked up at you curiously, his hot breath against your core sending shivers down your spine, “Yeah?” he asked, he was clearly as much in a haze as you were, absolutely and irrevocably drunk on you. 

“I want you inside me,” you breathed out. He looked at you as if your request was alarming. “Please.” 

There was nothing, not in heaven, not on earth, and certainly not in hell that would have made him deny you. He pressed another kiss over your thigh and then he moved you a little further up into the altar, climbing up himself so he had at least a little more leverage. “I’ve never–” he hesitated. “You’ll have to teach me, angel.” The smile you gave him was the most devilish one you’d ever given anyone, but to him it was nothing short of angelical. “Will you?” 

“With pleasure,” you retorted, pushed yourself up and turned the two of you around, now his back was on the altar. “It’s quite simple Father Remus, I’m sure you’ll master it in no time like you’ve done with everything else I’ve taught you.” 

He just stared at you, eyes filled with lust as he nodded in acknowledgement. You tilted your head forward and let out a soft sigh, lips curved into that same smile as before. You placed your fingers on his collarbone, “I assume you already know the way it works,” you said as you allowed your hand to lay flat against his toned chest, and then dragged it down. “Should I teach you that as well?” 

“If it pleases you,” he answered. 

You looked at him with a teasing grin and then pushed yourself up to straddle him, knees on either side of his thighs as you slowly undid his trousers and pulled them down. Once they were out of the way you went for his boxers, allowing your hands to brush over his thick-length just to hear his reaction, the groan he tried to suppress was nothing short of thrilling. You didn’t waste much more time before you too pulled them off. His cock sprang up, thick and proud. You bit your lip and dug your nails in your tight before you reached for it. 

Remus was sensitive, and you did not want him to come before he was inside of you, so instead of teasing him further with your hands, you accommodated yourself right on top of him and pressed yourself over his cock. Your folds wrapping themselves around it as you rocked your hips back and forth to coat him with your juices. You heard him curse and groan, and you were trying really hard to hold yourself together, but you couldn’t help the mellowing sounds that escaped your mouth as his cock brushed against your clit. He thought it was heavenly, he thought nirvana was at his reach and he wasn’t even from that religion. 

“So what you have to do,” you breathed.

“That wasn’t it?” he teased as he saw you attempt to raise yourself from his cock and fail, he placed his hands on your waist to help, but when he figured how good that particular position made you feel, instead of raise he pushed you down on him again, moaning at the way your folds made the skin of his cock pull back. 

“Well, that’s great for me,” you said as you leaned towards him and rocked your hips again, your lips so close to his that they brushed each other as you spoke again. “But I can make it better for you.” 

Remus wasn’t sure that was possible, but he had thought there was nothing better than touching himself with the thought of you and you had proved him wrong with your sweet lips around his cock. “I wouldn’t mind it if we stayed like this.” 

You rolled your hips again and he moaned, “Bet you wouldn’t,” you laughed. And then raised your hips again, his cock sprang up again, and you bit your lip as you looked down and reached for it, accommodating it towards your entrance. You brushed his tip against your clit a couple of times and moaned his name before slowly letting it find your entrance. His breath got caught in his throat as his tip entered you, “Is that okay?” you asked softly. 

“Fuck– yes…” he let out. You smiled, and continued with your task, slowly sinking in deeper. Remus was moaning your name as he felt your walls stretch around him. “It’s… really fucking tight.” 

“If it’s too much I–” 

“Don’t dare stop!” He rushed out. You smiled and continued your careful descent until he was completely inside you. Your head was laying on his chest as the two of you panted, getting used to the intoxicating feeling the other brought. He was filling you up and making you feel things without even having to move.

“How’s that?” You asked as you clenched around him. 

“My god, did you just–?” You clenched again and he groaned. 

“Gather you liked it?” He gave you a look. “Tell me when you’re ready for more.” 

“More?” he asked confused, and you rocked your hips forward, he moaned and felt himself throb inside you, “Okay,” he breathed. “May I?” 

You nodded, he placed his hands on your waist again, helping you move your hips on him, and cursed, eyes closing shot as he got used to feeling so overwhelmingly good. You smiled and rolled your hips as you pushed yourself up, resting both of your hands on his chest and using them as leverage for rolling your hips even more. 

He accidentally pushed his hips into you, “M’sorry,” he muttered. 

“No, that’s good,” you encouraged, and he did it again. “You feel incredible,” he said, almost to himself. “You look incredible,” he added, looking at your face, brows slightly furrowed as you bit your bottom lip and rocked your hips on his, at the way your breasts bounced with the rolling of your hips. 

You would be lying if you said you didn’t love his praises. He was always so adamant with them, and they always made your stomach flutter, even now, as he was inside you. His thrust got more desperate, and you realised your weight was making it harder for him to move freely.

“Let’s– Let’s switch,” you stammered. “Take the top so you can move better.” 

“You sure?” he asked hesitantly and you nodded. He placed his hands on your back and carefully flipped the two around without disconnecting your bodies and started pounding into you with a little more urgency.

You smiled, and allowed him to rut into you, as he leaned closer to kiss you. “I like this position too,” he said with a smile.

“Mhm?” you asked as you looked into his eyes.

“I can kiss you as much as I please like this,” he said and closed the gap between your lips, biting on the bottom one as he pulled back to look at you again. You clenched around him in retort and he moaned. “When you do that…” he breathed, his forehead pressed into yours.

His thrusts started to pick up the pace as if he was losing control over himself, you instantly knew he was close and dragged your hand down to your clit to rush your own climax. 

“What are you?” He asked and lost his trail of thought after you touched your clit and let out a soft mellow moan. Your knuckles brushed against his cock with each rut and he was quick to drag his own hand down –the one he wasn’t using to hold himself above you– and push yours out of the way to draw circles over your clit. “Good?” 

 “Mhm…” you moaned, eyes shut and completely lost in the feeling of his hands on you. He pounded against you again and somehow reached that spot inside that made you squirm. Your panting increased, and your heartbeat quickened even further. Remus, who was adamant on seeing every single reaction his touch made you feel, decided he had to do it again to hear that sweet sound of yours and soon enough he had you melting for him. 

Now he had been the one to take you to heaven, so perhaps he had, in a way, converted you back, since you once again believed such a place existed, even if it was just for a second. 

“I think I’m going to–” he cut himself off when he felt cum shut out right inside you. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he said as he tried to get out. But you were faster, gripping onto his neck and dragging him to a kiss. 

“It’s okay,” you clenched around him, feeling yet another ribbon of his warm cum inside you. “Please do it inside.” 

Remus tried not to moan at your request and hid his blushed face in your neck as he continued to thrust inside you, movement erratic as he milked the rest of himself on you. 

When he was done, he fell on top of you, his head beside yours as he breathed thickly, his weight crushing you in a way that you thought was insanely pleasurable. After a few minutes, you tilted your head to the side and reached your hand up to play with his hair as leaned your lips close to his ear. “So, how was it?” 

He scoffed at your question, you definitely knew how insanely good it had been for him. “As if it weren’t obvious.” 

“I’d still like to hear you say it,” you said with a wicked smile. 

“Insane,” he said and turned to look at you. “Absolutely, and undeniably mental.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I thought I was in heaven.” 

“Maybe we both were,” you said honestly. He pulled from you and allowed himself to lay beside you, not missing the way his cum slid down your folds. You slotted yourself in between his arm and his chest, and brushed your hands over his toned chest. 

“Father?” you started. 

He turned to you,  “Don’t call me that anymore. I’ve broken my vows, I’ve killed him.”

You looked at him with a sort of forlorn expression, “I’m sorry,” you said honestly. You had wanted him so much, that you hadn’t thought of how your wishes would affect him. 

“Don’t be,” he said with a smile, “I am not.” 

Even if he had shattered his vows, even if he had broken most of the church’s rules, he’d had seen heaven, and he did not want, and wouldn’t want to go back from it. Remus recognized every single thing he’d done wrong, he’d seen his vileness, but he decided he’d go on with it. 

Because how could it possibly be wrong to kiss you? How could it be wrong to touch you and to feel himself inside you when it felt so good? There were no righteous men and no catholic god that could have convinced him that what’d he’d done with you was wicked, not when he saw your smile, and not when he looked into your hypnotising eyes. Every single thing about you was perfect, and he wouldn’t have changed a thing of what he’d done. 

Remus had decided to switch religions, he’d decided to get a new creed, he now fervently believed that you were his everything. 

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Read more Marauders Fiction

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Spinsters do not Need Chaperones (Part 1)

Chaperones are for beautiful young girls. A plain older woman like you, with neither fortune nor youth to recommend her, is hardly in danger of losing her virtue. You've long resigned yourself to always being the supporting role in someone else’s romance. 

But could it be that love and marriage have not disappeared entirely beyond your reach? This spinster may capture the heart of an eligible bachelor yet, if only she makes the right choices…

Genre: Seventeen hiphop unit x female! reader (alternate plots and endings for each member) Regency!AU (Sort of Bridgerton-esque but we keep it PG).

Word Count: 6.3k+

Series Masterlist here

Part 2 coming soon!

The carriage rumbled down the cobblestone streets, past fancy tea parlours and luxurious shops that only the most elite of London society could afford to frequent. You barely had time to glance at the names of the shops before they whizzed past you. The carriage was going at break-neck speed. 

You seized the armrest and looked over at your travel companion and aunt, Lady Beaumont. 

“Perhaps, my dear aunt,” you said shakily as the carriage hit a particularly painful bump on the road, “we might ask the driver to slow down?”

Lady Beaumont turned to you sharply. Her crinkled eyes and face resembled that of a vulture’s- curved and without compassion. You almost flinched when she glowered at you. 

“Don't be silly! We are already running very, very late!” Lady Beaumont scolded. 

“Yes, but would it not increase our tardiness if we were to have an accident on the way?” you pointed out.

Your hand was squeezed tightly by the young woman seated beside you. Julia Beaumont was Lady Beaumont’s only daughter and an innocent and sweet young girl of nineteen. Her big eyes were wide and she looked worried. This was your cousin’s first time in London among elite society. Julia had been kept sheltered and protected by her mother all her life and, as a result, was both naive and full of wonder.

The carriage rolled up at the large Beaumont house in the middle of London. It had barely come to a full halt before Lady Beaumont leapt out at a speed surprising for her advanced age, and started barking orders at the servants. 

“Come take the trunks inside-quickly now!” she yelled at the porter. “Send the dresses up to the bed chambers urgently, we have barely an hour to prepare ourselves for dinner with the Chois- did you not hear me? I said send the dresses up first!”

You left the poor servants to handle Lady Beaumont’s wrath. Instead, you pushed past and went up the front stairs, smiling brightly at the head housekeeper who was waiting in the foyer. 

“Mrs. Milly!” you greeted the older woman happily. You had known the housekeeper for years, having lived in London and this very house during your formative years. She had always been kind to you. 

Mrs. Milly smiled at you brightly. “It is wonderful to see you again, Miss Beaumont. Have you been well?”

You sighed and glanced back to make sure your aunt was out of earshot. “Suffice it to say that I am happy to be back in London. But I have no time to tell you everything- we are about to be quite late to dinner with the Choi family and I fear my aunt will explode in flames if she discovers us chatting. I promise to speak to you properly tomorrow, Mrs. Milly.”

Mrs. Milly nodded and handed an envelope to you. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I only wanted to give you a letter that arrived for you this morning.”

You took the letter with surprise. “A letter? But I had not informed anyone I was coming to London, except for…”

“Miss Kim. She delivered it personally and insisted that I give it to you as soon as you arrive, without a moment's delay,” Mrs. Milly replied.

You grinned. “Of course, who else would write to me but my dear Miss Kim? I shall read it immediately.”

“Don't let Lady Beaumont see you.”

You hurried up the winding staircase towards your usual bedchambers. The large London Beaumont house had been your grandfather’s while he was alive, and had been passed down in your extended family for generations. You spent many of your innocent childhood years playing in these vast halls, ignorant of strange adult concepts like inheritance and the entailment of ancestral estates which meant that the Beaumont house would never be fully yours. You were, and would always be, merely a guest here. 

But heavens, it felt like home. 

You hurried to dress for dinner. Your aunt would come upstairs any moment and scream at you if you did not seem ready. But as the handmaids helped tie up the laces of your gown, you couldn't resist the urge to rip open the envelope from Miss Kim and scan its contents. 

My dear Miss Beaumont,

I was so delighted to learn that you would be in London today, that I simply could not resist the urge to write to you with my most recent news- my dearest friend, I am engaged to be married! 

Mr. Park has asked for my hand and I have accepted him. We are to be married by September, here in London. I know that Lady Beaumont is unlikely to remain here beyond August, but I must beg you not to return to the countryside with her and instead stay with me in London to help me prepare for my wedding. I insist upon it most fervently- I shall not be married unless my dearest friend is in attendance! 

I know you must be confused. You would have expected my engagement to be with a certain Mr. J. In that regard I can only say that I have put Mr. J behind me and I will tell you the details of what has occured when we meet in person. 

Come to mine for breakfast tomorrow. Mingyu and Mama are eager to see you as well. 

Yours,

Miss Kim. 

You stared at the letter in shock. Miss Kim, despite being two years younger than you, was your closest friend in the world. You had both attended the same private seminary for girls in London during your teenage years and bonded strongly through a shared hatred for etiquette lessons and delight in tormenting your governesses. There was really nobody alive that you trusted and adored more than Miss Kim. 

You had never doubted that she would marry, and marry well. Miss Kim was blessed with the excellent genes that ran in the Kim family. She also had a charming personality and a bountiful dowry of thirty thousand pounds. She would have almost any man she set her heart upon. 

It had been your understanding that she had set her heart upon Mr. Jeon Wonwoo. Miss Kim had been waxing eloquent about her admiration for the handsome and mysterious gentleman that she was courting over the summer, so her sudden engagement to someone else- a Mr. Park whom you had never even heard of before- was very surprising to you and you couldn't understand it. 

You had to respond to her letter immediately. You had just turned over the paper and were searching for some ink when the door to your bedchambers opened and Lady Beaumont entered. 

“Are you ready for dinner yet?” your aunt demanded. You quickly stashed your friend’s letter between the folds of your dress and nodded. 

“Yes, of course, Aunt.”

“Come outside. I wish to speak to you alone.”

Lady Beaumont disappeared down the corridor and you sighed, forced to follow her downstairs where the carriage was waiting to take your family to dinner at the Choi manor. Your aunt turned to you suddenly with an anxious expression. 

“I expect you to be very thoughtful about your behaviour tonight,” Lady Beaumont said in a low voice. 

You blinked at her. 

“I’m afraid I don't understand,” you replied. Your aunt held no particular fondness for you, you knew that. She had been forced into the role of your guardian by the unexpected death of your parents. But you had still been brought up in a noble family, attended one of the most prestigious girls’ seminaries in London and been out in polite society for many years. Surely there was no reason to suspect you could not behave yourself at a  dinner?

Your aunt sighed. “Don't be intentionally obtuse. You are old enough to understand- you are practically a spinster now. You know perfectly well why it is so important that our dinner with the Choi family be a successful one.”

You did know, but you couldn't pass up the opportunity to force your Aunt to explain herself to you. Perhaps in saying it aloud she would recognise how manipulative she sounded. 

“Remind me, dear Aunt,” you said lightly. 

“The moment your uncle, Lord Beaumont- passes away, the Beaumont estate will be lost to us. It is entailed, you know, and there are no near male relations to inherit it according to the terms of the entailment. Oh! How unfair that the home which you and Julia have grown up in must be taken away from you due to some ancient rules about inheritance by male primogeniture!”

You simply blinked. You had heard your Aunt complain about this before. Hearing about the terms of the estate's entailment did not bring you any joy, but it was hardly news. The latest generation of the Beaumont family consisted only of daughters- you and your cousin Julia. Neither your late father nor your uncle had borne sons. 

“Yes, I know,” you replied. 

“Once your uncle passes, the estate shall be inherited by his distant relations- the Chois, and in particular their eldest son Mr. Choi Seungcheol. You, I and poor Julia shall be put out on the streets quite immediately! You understand that the only way to protect ourselves from the terrible consequences of this entail is for Mr. Choi to marry our dear Julia. At least then, the Beaumont estate will remain in our family.”

You pressed your fingers to your forehead. You had known what she planned even before Lady Beaumont explained it to you. It was her grand scheme for Julia to marry Mr. Choi Seungcheol so that the Beaumont estate was not lost to some distant relations. You could sympathise. It was not easy to accept that the estate your family had possessed for generations would so easily be handed to a complete stranger. 

“I am conscious of your intentions, dear aunt,” you told her patiently. “I cannot think what my behaviour has to do with it.”

“Julia is young and beautiful and has many charms to recommend her to Mr. Choi, but we must do our best to encourage the match. I shall contrive ways for them to spend more time together, but they must be chaperoned. I shall expect your support in this regard.”

You blinked at her. “You want me to chaperone Julia? I thought your presence would be sufficient, aunt, why does Julia require another chaperone?”

Lady Beaumont frowned. “I may be old but I am not ignorant to the ways of youth. Mr. Choi will hardly be able to court Julia properly if her mother is always hanging about. The presence of parents puts a damper on romance. No, it must be you who chaperones them and you must encourage him to pay attention to her. Julia is too young and foolish to handle Mr. Choi with delicacy- and there is simply too much at stake.”

You raised an eyebrow. You didn’t look forward to chaperoning your young cousin about her courtships, but it was a small sacrifice to make. At least Lady Beaumont was conscious that her own presence would not be conducive to the proposed  romance. You had to give your aunt some credit for her self-awareness. 

“Yes, aunt, if that is what you wish. I will be happy to chaperone Julia and encourage Mr. Choi to court her in whatever way I can,” you replied. 

“Yes. We can only hope that in contrast to you, Julia will look young and pretty and lively and manage to capture Mr. Choi’s attention,” your Aunt added bluntly. 

The underlying insult did not go unheard. You were clearly too old and dull and plain to pose a threat to Julia. You tried not to be offended. Being in your late twenties and possessing only a paltry dowry meant that spinsterhood was bearing heavily upon you. You would not be attractive to rich, well-bred bachelors like Mr. Choi. Lady Beaumont was correct to think that Julia was the better  bet. 

“I shall try my best to bring Julia’s charms into contrast,” you replied tiredly. 

“I also hear Mr. Choi has a younger brother named Vernon. He is not due to inherit anything at all, so we must ensure he does not set his sights upon Julia. That would be quite disastrous. You must keep him safely at a distance,” your Aunt pressed. 

You raised an eyebrow. “You have many expectations, dear aunt.”

Lady Beaumont bristled. “This is your obligation to our family. You failed to secure a rich husband while you were young and somewhat pretty, despite your uncle spending so much money to have you educated at a private seminary in London. Now you must at least do your best for your cousin.”

“I will always have Julia’s best interests at heart,” you promised. 

“Good. Let us hurry- Julia! Julia, are you ready to leave? The carriage is waiting for us outside, we haven't a moment to delay!”

—--------------------------------------------------

The letter from your friend Miss Kim was still tucked into the folds of your dress and you had a few moments of leisure to think about it as the Beaumont carriage rumbled down to the Choi manor. 

What could have possessed Miss Kim to abandon her courtship with the mysterious Mr. Jeon and become engaged to somebody entirely new? You were flooded with a mixture of curiosity and concern over what had changed your friend’s heart in a matter of weeks. You were also worried about this new character Mr. Park and his intentions- although Miss Kim had a very protective older brother to guide her in such matters. Mingyu would never have permitted her engagement to someone who was unworthy of her. If this Mr. Park had managed to obtain Mingyu's approval, he must certainly be a good man. 

“What do you think Mr. Choi is like?” Julia asked you anxiously, as the carriage approached the Choi residence. 

You looked down at your younger cousin and thought for a moment about her question. “Oh- erm… I am afraid I haven't had the pleasure of his acquaintance, Julia. I am told the Chois do not spend much time in London since they are mainly in the shipping trade in Portsmouth. But I have heard Mr. Choi described as an intelligent and capable gentleman.”

“Do you think he will like me?”

You smiled at her reassuringly. “Of course, Julia; you are quite the pretty picture. Only be a little careful with your manners and I am sure Mr. Choi will be blinded by your charms.”

Julia blushed, pleased, and turned to look out of the window with a little smile on her face. Your cousin was the perfect picture of youth and innocence- just the sort of thing men liked. It was difficult to imagine that Mr. Choi Seungcheol (whatever his personality and preferences) could not be persuaded to fall in love with her. 

The carriage rolled to a halt outside the Choi manor. 

Your family was greeted at the entrance of a sizeable mansion by the elderly Mrs. Choi. She was, as per your information, the widowed mother of Mr. Choi Seungcheol and Mr. Choi Vernon. She was a tall, statutely lady with greying hair and a naturally graceful manner that you couldn't help but admire.

“Lady Beaumont, what a pleasure to make your acquaintance at long last,” Mrs. Choi welcomed your aunt with great warmth. She then turned to smile at you and Julia. “And these must be your lovely daughters.”

“My daughter, Julia- and this is my niece,” your aunt replied quickly. “It is wonderful to meet you as well, Mrs. Choi. We were most gratified by your invitation to dinner.”

“My sons and I have been wanting to make your formal acquaintance for so long, but it was not possible since we are very rarely in London. My eldest son is quite busy in the shipping business in Portsmouth, as I have told you before. But now that we are here, I simply could not allow the opportunity to pass.”

Your aunt smiled brightly as your family was guided into the manor’s foyer. The Chois had a lovely manor, but it was not quite as splendid as the Beaumont house. 

“It is a pity indeed that Mr. Choi Seungcheol cannot find time with his shipping business to attend the social season in London,” your aunt said, with a sly undertone, “for surely it cannot be easy to find a wife of good breeding in Portsmouth!”

You tried not to cringe. Did your aunt have to be quite so obvious about her intentions and talk of marriage even before sitting down? But Lady Beaumont would feel no shame, and surprisingly, Mrs. Choi took the comment in good humour. 

“I agree- I have been encouraging Seungcheol to spend more time among the ton, and it is time he thought about marriage and settling down. But men will rarely allow themselves to be rushed into such things,” Mrs. Choi added as she led you all into the large dining parlour. Two gentlemen were seated at the table and they both rose quickly and quietly to greet your family. 

“Lady Beaumont, please allow me to introduce my sons- the elder, Seungcheol and the younger, Vernon.”

You had to drop into a polite curtsy and keep your eyes low as Lady Beaumont introduced you to the Choi brothers. When they invited you all to sit at the table, you were able to get a good look at the two brothers who sat across from you at the dining table. 

Mr. Choi Seungcheol was a tall, broad-shouldered man. He had dark hair, dark eyes, and was as classically handsome as one could possibly expect from a man in his thirties. Yet there was something mysterious about him. He had a strong aura- one that radiated a sense of charismatic authority. 

“Do you spend much time in London, Miss Julia?” Seungcheol asked conversationally once the initial introductions were completed, and everyone had taken their seats at the table. 

You glanced at Julia. Your cousin was staring at Seungcheol like a deer caught in the headlights and her mouth opened and closed wordlessly. You quickly picked up on her distress and jumped in to save the conversation. 

“My cousin Julia has not yet had the advantage of a full social season in London- she has only just made her debut,” you replied quickly. 

Seungcheol’s dark eyes turned to you. 

“I see. And yourself, Miss Beaumont?”

You blinked- Mr. Choi certainly had excellent manners to enquire after you and not focus on his potential bride. “I have spent plenty of time in London, Mr. Choi. I was educated at a private seminary here, and have attended many social seasons.”

Mr. Choi nodded. “And do you like London very much?”

“London has many things to recommend it, and I have been fortunate to make some good friends here. Is my understanding correct, Mr. Choi, have you not had the liberty to spend much time here?” you enquired politely.  

“I am afraid business keeps me mostly in Portsmouth during the social season,” Seungcheol replied simply. “My brother Vernon is in London often for his studies- although I doubt you would have found him at social events organised by the ton.”

You finally had an opportunity to turn and look at the younger Choi brother. Vernon was seated to your left, and although there was a slight resemblance, he looked quite different from Seungcheol. Vernon’s hair was a lighter brown and his eyes were much softer and kinder. He didn't have the same force of personality as his brother- indeed, you had almost forgotten that he was there. Vernon radiated a sense of calm and quiet self-assuredness that you found quite pleasing. 

“May I ask what you are studying, Mr. Vernon?” you enquired politely. 

Vernon nodded, his brown eyes meeting your gaze easily. “Of course, Miss Beaumont. I am currently pursuing the study of law at Oxford.”

“Oh! It must be very difficult,” you commented. “I imagine the study of a serious profession like that requires much hard work and intelligence.”

Vernon only gave you a humble smile in return.

“Oh-yes, Vernon is very intelligent,” his mother chimed in. Mrs. Choi seemed to enjoy talking about her sons. “We are indeed very proud of Vernon and hope that he will become a very successful barrister- but he has many years of study left for that.”

You nodded. “I wish you the very best for your studies, Mr. Choi.”

“Thank you,” he replied pleasantly. 

Lady Beaumont spoke up- she had enough of you dominating the conversation and was now determined to turn it towards her daughter Julia- poor Julia, who still looked terrified and had barely touched her dinner. 

“Julia has been studying music lately,” Lady Beaumont interrupted in a rather obvious attempt at a  segue. “She has become quite the accomplished pianist for her age.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Is that so? We have a small pianoforte in the drawing room. You must play a little for us after dinner, Miss Julia. My sons and I are all quite fond of some good music.”

Julia swallowed. 

“Say yes,” you mumbled to your cousin, reaching under the table to squeeze her hand. 

“Y-yes,” Julia squeaked out. “I-I shall be delighted to…”

The dinner went on pleasantly enough. Other than a few pointed remarks from your aunt about how Mr. Choi would surely not find a bride in Portsmouth (which, to Seungcheol’s credit, he handled quite graciously) and another incident in which Julia dropped her glass from nerves (Vernon was kind enough to immediately pick it up for her and gesture for a servant to tidy up the mess) the dinner passed among pleasant small talk about London, the shipping business in Portsmouth, and a little light gossip about the ton. 

The group retired to the drawing room after dinner and Julia was persuaded to sit down at the pianoforte to play some music for the Chois. You volunteered to stand next to your cousin on the pretext of turning the pages of her music, and leaned down to whisper to her. 

“Are you all right?” you whispered to Julia as she played. “You have been very quiet and anxious.”

Julia blinked up at you. Her fingers tripped momentarily and she hit the wrong key but she recovered quickly. “Oh cousin, isn't he quite scary? I find him rather intimidating!”

You blinked down at her. “Mr. Choi Seungcheol? He seems very well-spoken. I found him quite mature and reasonable.”

“But the way he glares…”

“He has a somewhat serious appearance,” you admitted. “But he is the head of his family and from what I have heard, has expanded his shipping business quite single-handedly. Men who carry a lot of responsibility are sometimes a little solemn in their manners, you know, but it is not so bad.”

“I hope you are right,” Julia muttered. “But I am quite scared to talk to him. You must not ever let me be alone with him.”

“You will always be chaperoned,” you promised her. 

“His brother Mr. Vernon seems very nice. He was kind enough to help me when I dropped the glass. Alas, he is a law student and I am sure mother would never approve.”

“She certainly wouldn't,” you muttered. “Mr. Choi Vernon is a second son and he will have to marry a woman that comes with either a handsome dowry or an inheritance- so I would not put any hopes there, dear Julia.”

Julia sighed. “Yes, all right. I did not find him particularly charming either, only that he seemed less scary than his brother.”

“You will be fine,” you promised her. “Only try not to worry and be true to yourself. Do you need me to continue turning pages?”

“No, you may sit down.”

You left your cousin to handle the piano and joined your aunt and Mrs. Choi in their conversation. Lady Beaumont looked quite elated, and you were almost afraid to take your seat and find out had excited your aunt quite so much. 

“Oh my dear niece; but, you must hear this! Mrs. Choi has been very gracious to invite you, me and Julia to spend the autumn at their estate in Portsmouth!” Lady Beaumont cried. Her eyes were bright with delight. “Is that not incredibly generous of her?”

Your stomach clenched. “Oh- yes, Mrs. Choi, that is very generous and kind.”

Mrs. Choi smiled. “Not at all! I shall be very glad of the company. Portsmouth is certainly nothing compared to London, but it is a lively enough place to spend the off-season,” Mrs. Choi replied graciously. 

Lady Beaumont beamed. “Indeed, and we shall be very happy to accept-”

“Aunt,” you interrupted her quickly. The letter from your close friend Miss Kim was still tucked inside the folds of your dress. “I am sure it will be a wonderful visit for you and Julia, but you may have to excuse me for I have other engagements in London.”

Your aunt turned to you sharply. “What nonsense! What engagements can you possibly have?”

“My dear friend Miss Kim is to be married-”

“And? What do you have to do with her marriage?” your Aunt demanded. 

“She is my dearest friend-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted the scolding that you were about to receive from Lady Beaumont with a kind and patient smile. “Forgive me, Miss Beaumont, I was not aware that you were closely acquainted with the Kim family.”

“Miss Kim and I attended school together,” you replied with a grateful smile to the older woman. “Her family was kind enough to host me at their London home during the social seasons and to sponsor my debut among the ton after my parents passed. I have attended the last few social seasons as Miss Kim’s companion and I am greatly indebted to her family for their kindness to me.”

There was a hint of sympathy in the look Mrs. Choi gave you. Perhaps she had just been reminded of the fact that you were an orphan. She also gave a surprised look to Lady Beaumont. 

“Indeed! I was not aware that Miss Beaumont had to rely on the Kims to debut in society and attend the social season in London,” Mrs. Choi replied. 

Lady Beaumont looked flustered at the implication that she had not done enough for you as a guardian. “Well yes, naturally- Julia was still a young child and I could not leave her behind to chaperone my niece, so we permitted her to debut while under the temporary guardianship of the Kims. Not that it helped her any, she still never managed to secure a husband.”

Mrs. Choi’s eyes widened. “Surely Miss Beaumont can still-”

“Nonsense, she is quite the spinster now and I see no further use in her staying in London,” Lady Beaumont replied while glaring at you. “London is hardly going to produce any new husbands for you at this point. You had better come with us to Portsmouth.”

You clenched your fists. “Aunt-”

Mrs. Choi interrupted softly. “I would not wish for you to break any engagements you may have with the Kims, Miss Beaumont. But if you are able to join us, you will be most warmly welcomed in Portsmouth.”

You felt a sudden wave of gratitude and respect for Mrs. Choi, and you nodded at her. “Thank you very much, madam.”

“The song Julia is playing is most delightful. Your daughter is a very accomplished pianist, Lady Beaumont!” Mrs. Choi said.

Your aunt smiled, a little placated. “Yes…”

—-----------------------------------------------------

You awoke early- earlier than your aunt or Julia- and dressed quickly for breakfast with Miss Kim to demand answers about your dear friend's sudden engagement. It would have alerted Lady Beaumont if you had called for the carriage, so you decided to walk instead. The weather was pleasant enough, and the Kims’ home was not too far away. 

You were just strolling past a shop window and admiring a pretty pair of shoes (that you certainly couldn't afford yourself, but perhaps you could persuade your Aunt that they would look nice on Julia), when you found yourself face-to-face with a tall gentleman. 

“Oh!” you cried, quickly taking a few steps back to avoid bumping into the man. 

“My apologies,” he said, looking down at you. The voice was familiar, as was the face that looked up at you. “Are you all-”

“Mr. Jeon!” you recognised him. 

He paused and his dark eyes scanned your face quickly. Mr. Jeon Wonwoo was quite unmistakable, even from a distance. He had piercing dark eyes and was always impeccably dressed in dark coats that hinted at the musculature underneath. It was difficult to decide whether Mr. Jeon was handsome or terrifying- perhaps it was  a mixture of both, really. 

“Miss Beaumont,” Mr. Jeon greeted you in his usual slow, deep voice. There was no smile on his face. “I am surprised to see you here. I was not aware that you were in London.”

You cleared your throat and nodded politely. “Ah- yes, I arrived only yesterday evening.”

“Are you staying with the Kims’, as always?”

You were surprised that he could mention the Kims so casually after what you had learned about Miss Kim’s engagement. You tried to gauge his expression- but Mr. Jeon Wonwoo’s expression was akin to a brick wall. 

“No, I am staying at the Beaumont manor, as I have come with my aunt and cousin,” you replied patiently. Could it be possible that Mr. Jeon had not even heard the news of the engagement himself? You decided to test the waters. “But I am on my way to the Kims’ for breakfast now. Perhaps you would care to join me?”

The corner of Wonwoo’s lip twitched- ah. He did know of the engagement, he was only putting on a careless front. You felt almost triumphant in managing to extract some emotion from this famously mysterious man. 

“I am afraid I am otherwise engaged this morning,” Mr. Jeon replied stiffly, “but thank you for the invitation.”

“Of course.”

“Good day, Miss Beaumont.” 

“Good day, Mr. Jeon.”

He walked away and you paused in the street for a moment to glance after his disappearing figure. You did not know Mr. Jeon very well- naturally, your acquaintance with him was only as the gentleman that was courting your friend. Yet you couldn't help but find Mr. Jeon almost amusing. The man regularly went to a great amount of care and effort to hide his emotions, and it seemed almost a shame. 

You continued on to the Kims’ manor. The butler greeted you at the entrance, clearly expecting your arrival. You were guided into the breakfast parlour, where you were promptly attacked by Miss Kim. 

“My friend!”

Miss Kim had engulfed you in a warm hug before you even had an opportunity to look around the room. You stumbled backwards and laughed, delighted to see her after many weeks apart. 

“Miss Kim,” you replied, returning her friendly embrace. “I am very delighted to see you but indeed, you must allow me to breathe.”

She released you and beamed. “I am so happy to see you! Did you get my letter?”

“I did indeed, I was quite shocked to hear-”

You were interrupted by the voice of Mr. Kim Mingyu, who was seated at the dining table a short distance away and flipping through the morning paper. He was dressed in a very fashionable blue coat and looked up at you with twinkling eyes and his usual boyish, charming smile. 

“Sister, surely you can allow Miss Beaumont to sit down and have a bit of breakfast before you begin haranguing her. Good morning, Miss Beaumont,” he added with a smile in your direction. 

You smiled back at him, as Miss Kim took your arm and led you to the breakfast table. 

“Good morning, Mingyu. I hope you are doing well?” you asked. 

“I expect I will be a great deal better now that you are here. My sister has been driving us all quite mad since some time now, and we shall be more than happy to hand her over to your generous care,” he replied cheekily. 

You laughed. “I shall be glad to take her from you, Mingyu.”

“And I insist that you do not leave again for such a long period, for she has become quite unbearable in your absence. My mother and I insist you share responsibility for the monster you have helped create.”

You laughed. You knew Mr. Kim Mingyu all too well- from his rather awkward and gangly teenage years until he became the present handsome and charming bachelor. You would not pretend that you had not had your fair share of attraction towards Mingyu in the past- but you had long matured out of those childish attractions and had instead  come to respect his good character and regard him as a valuable friend.

“I am here now, Mr. Kim, so you may return to your paper,” you told him with a smile. 

Mr. Kim nodded. “Much obliged.”

Miss Kim ushered you to sit down and generously piled your plate full of food from the breakfast table as she spoke in a rapid, eager tone. 

“You must meet Mr. Park at once, you will adore him. He is such a wonderful and handsome gentleman and he is so charming, he says the loveliest things and I am quite smitten with him. I know you do not believe in silly things such as love at first sight and perhaps it was not quite that, but I must tell you that I was very sure soon after meeting him that this was the man for me.”

“Slow down,” you told her with a laugh. “Who is this Mr. Park? What do we know of him?”

“He has a large estate in Derbyshire that he has only just inherited from his late uncle. He enjoys horse riding, and hunting, and is excellent at cards-” Miss Kim went on eagerly. 

You nodded. “Yes, but what do we-”

“Let me pour you some tea- oh no, the pot is empty. Marie! Marie! Can you bring us some more tea, please- oh, where has this maid got to…”

You watched in surprise as your overly excited friend rushed out of the room to procure more tea. She was certainly very enthusiastic- far more enthusiastic than she had ever been when she was courting Mr. Jeon. You turned to Mingyu and gave him a meaningful look. 

“Mingyu…”

He looked up from his paper. “Yes?”

“What do we really know of this man?” you asked pointedly. 

Mingyu smiled softly and folded the newspaper closed. “You are thoughtful to be concerned, Miss Beaumont, but there is no need. I have had Mr. Park thoroughly investigated. He is who he claims to be. I have watched them and as strange as it is, he really does seem to be quite the perfect match for my sister. He is able to match her high energy and passionate feelings in a way I have not seen any other gentleman achieve.”

You winced. “I suppose you mean Mr. Jeon.”

Mingyu sighed. “Yes, that courtship is quite at its natural end. Thank goodness they never got quite so far as for him to propose.”

“Is Mr. Jeon all right?”

“He certainly wouldn't tell me if he wasn't,” Mingyu replied with a sigh. “I cannot pretend to know whether or not the man is heartbroken, but I do believe that it was for the best. I am afraid Wonwoo was not a very good fit for my sister. Time will heal his wounds eventually.”

You nodded. There was some wisdom in Mingyu’s words. “Yes- and if you say Mr. Park really is such a perfect fit for Miss Kim-”

“He is.”

Miss Kim returned along with a maid carrying a pot of tea and sat down beside you with a huge smile. “Shall I invite Mr. Park for tea tomorrow? Will you meet him then?” she asked eagerly. 

You bit your lip. “I would love to, but… I am afraid my aunt wants me to go to Portsmouth for the autumn with her and Julia.”

Miss Kim’s face fell. “No! Surely you cannot, you must stay in London!”

“I am afraid Julia needs me, my aunt is trying to encourage a match between her and Mr. Choi Seungcheol. Julia will be in need of a chaperone-”

Your friend scoffed. “A chaperone? It is quite outrageous for Lady Beaumont to demand your time and attention now, when she never even bothered to come to London for you when you were in need of a chaperone. Miss Beaumont! You cannot mean to tell me that you will miss my engagement ball and wedding to go to Portsmouth of all places?”

You sighed and sipped your tea. “Believe me, friend, I have no great interest in going to Portsmouth. But there is an obligation to my family… I will try to persuade my aunt to let me stay in London for a while longer.”

Miss Kim pressed your hand desperately. “You must. And if you are in Portsmouth at the time of my wedding then I shall hire someone to kidnap you and bring you to London.”

You laughed. “I shall come quite willingly.”

You leaned back in your seat and listened patiently to Miss Kim gush about her first meeting with Mr. Park- how she had met him at the Michaels’ grand ball at the start of season and he had captivated her attention from their first dance. 

It appeared that you had a very difficult decision ahead of you. Should you follow your family to Portsmouth or stay in London? Either way, you would surely have a very interesting few months ahead of you. 

--------------------------------------------------------

[tomriddleslove]

i still look for you.

✩Theodore Nott x Reader

Summary: Theodore cannot wait to start the next chapter of his life, moving in with you. Alternatively: Memory is a fickle thing.

Warnings: Brief allusion to alcoholism if you squint

Songs: Never find u - Sombr

I bet on losing dogs - Mitski

I wait for you - Alex G

The date reads the 2nd of May, 2002. Theodore looks down at the calendar and for some reason, a horrible feeling of dread pools in his stomach. He can’t exactly tell why.

He shakes it off, yawning lightly as he sits up in bed. He runs a hand through his messy hair, eyes adjusting to the dim morning light as he looks around his now bare room. His feet touch the bedroom floor, and he sits on the edge of his bed for a second, staring off before getting up.

There was no time for zoning out, he had things to be doing.

With a gentle sigh, he pushes himself off the bed, the warmth of the sheets still clinging to his skin. As he pads into the kitchen, his bare feet lightly brushing against the cool floor tiles, he catches sight of the empty firewhiskey bottle on the counter.

A furrow forms between his brows as he reaches for the bottle, his fingers brushing against the smooth glass surface. Memories of the previous night flicker in his mind, hazy and fragmented.

He must have indulged more than usual.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he meanders back to the bedroom, where cardboard boxes lie in disarray. He reaches into one of the unsealed boxes blindly and tugs on the first thing he finds, a grey knitted sweater and a pair of black slacks. He wanders out of the bathroom, brushing his teeth as he tosses the few stray things that lay here and there, things he had forgotten to pack the day before.

Theodore, albeit a little hungover, was thrilled. Today was the day he was due to move into his new apartment with you. You would be meeting him in the evening because you had work, however Theodore had a day off, so he would do the bulk of the moving process in the meantime. He’s just slipping his shoes on when the doorbell buzzes. He walks over to the intercom, buzzing the person in.

Theodore presses the button on the intercom, expecting to hear the voice of the moving truck driver but Instead, there's silence.

Frowning slightly, he presses the button again, but still, there's no response.

Yet another thing to solidify his choice to move out of this shitty apartment, as if the prospect of living with you wouldn’t be enough.

“Get- This- Stupid- Fucking- Thing- To- Work-” Theodore grunts, banging his fist into the intercom. Finally, the buzzing sound rings, and he can see the driver entering the flat through the small camera.

With a resigned sigh, Theodore hurriedly shrugs on his jacket. He jogs over to the door as a knock echoes through the apartment, cursing as he almost trips over a box. Kicking it to the side frustratedly, he opens the door.

"Sorry about the intercom," Theodore apologizes as he reaches the driver. "It's been acting up lately."

The driver nods understandingly, offering a sympathetic smile. "No worries. Let's get these boxes loaded up, shall we?"

They spent the next half an hour carrying the ridiculously heavy boxes down 4 flights of stairs because the elevator had stopped working. Theodore wipes the sweat from his brow as he sets down the last box with a thud, the weight of it nearly causing his arms to tremble. He takes a moment to catch his breath, chest heaving with exertion. He reaches into his pocket and hands the driver what Blaise had informed him to be a form of muggle currency, a flimsy piece of paper with “£50” written on it.

“Thank you for your help,” Theodore says, breathing slightly laboured. The driver was merely doing the job Theodore had paid him to do, but he couldn’t help feeling slightly sympathetic for the clearly older man who had broken out in a sweat by the time they had bought the first two boxes down. The driver frowns as he looks down at the note, then back up at Theodore.

Was it not enough? Had Theodore given him the equivalent of a single sickle?

His misinformed panic quickly subsides when the balding man grins, extending a hand out to Theodore.

“No worries mate. Bit of a drive, isn’t it? How are you getting there?” The man says, and Theodore pales for a second.

What exactly did muggles use again?

“Car,” Theodore blurts after a second, and the man nods, pocketing the £50 note into his shorts.

“Well, I reckon you’ll arrive before me. Should be close to 8 hours, had to tell the missus I wouldn't be home for the day. Had her questioning whether I was working or down at the pub!” He chortles.

Theodore chuckles nervously, feeling slightly out of his element with the man's casual banter. He nods along, trying to appear as though he understands every word, despite the thick accent throwing him off.

"Yeah, the drive should be fine," Theodore replies, forcing a smile. "Thanks again for your help. Really appreciate it."

With a final nod of farewell, Theodore watches as the man heads back to the truck and drives away, leaving him standing alone in front of his old apartment.

Casting one glance around the barren area, he apparates away, appearing in the corridor of his new house in no less than 4 seconds. He truly does pity muggles and their transport, for he couldn't even entertain the idea of having to spend 8 hours trapped in a car.

He walks around the empty house, a small smile tugging at his lips as he imagines the countless things you’d do here. The idea of building a life with you, so grossly domestic, brought a grin to his face.

You had been a saviour to Theodore, a burst of sunlight on a cloudy day.

He can still recall the day he had first met you with frighteningly precise clarity, though to Theodore it was only natural that he did, for he was sure he only started living when he had met you. He was only ever bound to fall deeper in love with you from the very first time he had seen you looking up at him with that slightly lopsided grin that sent shivers down his spine and warmth flooding his chest. It was as if the world had suddenly become brighter, more vibrant, simply because you were in it.

Whether it was studying together in the library, sneaking out for midnight strolls around the castle, or simply sitting in comfortable silence, Theodore found himself falling deeper and deeper under your spell.

He snaps out of his daydreams, looking around as he checks his watch.

15:07

This would be the perfect time to go out and explore the town a bit, perhaps find a supermarket.

The driver was due to get here around the same time you would finish work, and Theodore was sure you’d be exhausted. He decided to make you some dinner, knowing how late shifts at the ministry drained you.

Navigating the winding streets, Theodore takes in the sights and sounds of the town, marvelling at the quaint shops and charming architecture. It's a far cry from the bustling streets of Glasgow, but Theodore finds himself drawn to the peaceful atmosphere of the small town.

After 2 hours of finding himself sidetracked by a variety of different shops, he finally finds a supermarket. He heads in and emerges later with his wallet considerably lighter and a handful of bags filled with an unnecessary selection of snacks, and produce.

It was only a further 3 hours later, after Theodore had procrastinated reading a book as he lay sprawled across the remarkably comfy bed that came in the refurbished apartment that he realised for the abundance of cabinets and chairs that the place came with, there would not be a single pot or pan in sight. How Theodore planned to cook tomato soup without a pan, or a chopping board, or a knife at the very least, was beyond him.

With a begrudging sigh, he accepted the financial loss of having to venture back into town to get the necessary culinary equipment. At least now by the time you’d be back from work, the soup would just about be ready, so you could enjoy it nice and fresh.

With the attention span of a 5-year-old, it was only natural for what should have been a 30-minute store run to turn into a 2-hour shopping spree, but Theodore couldn't help it when he saw a second-hand book store and a florist stand that sold green - yes green - tulips (which so happened to be your favourite flower). Entering the apartment once again having sworn to himself that he is not to spend for the next month, Theodore sets down the bags and rolls up his sleeves, washing his hands as he prepares to cook.

Theodore sets to work, chopping vegetables and simmering soup on the stove. The savoury aroma fills the air, mingling with the scent of fresh herbs and spices. It's a labour of love, preparing a meal for you after a long day, but Theodore wouldn't have it any other way.

Thanks to his admirable procrastination skills, Theodore had managed to pass an impressive 7 hours doing nothing and was only midway through dicing some garlic when a resounding knock echoed through the empty house.

Moving the sizzling pot off the stove, he makes his way over to the door, wiping his garlic-smelling hands on his trousers as he opens the door. The same man stands before him, a truck parked outside as he greets Theodore.

“Cor, smells lovely. Must have gotten here well before me if you're already cooking” The man chuckles, and Theodore nods, fumbling for an excuse.

“Relatively smooth journey.” He nods, haphazardly slipping his shoes on as he follows the man to the empty truck. No longer living on the top floor of a dingy apartment building, the process of moving the boxes was far easier, and no longer than 10 minutes later the driver is (to Theodore's relief), waving goodbye with the large wad of bills clutched in his hands. Theodore sighs as he shuts the door, setting the final box down on top of the coffee table. Boxes lay strewn around the living room, which was connected to the kitchen in an open-plan configuration. Quickly finishing off the last of the cooking so he could leave the soup to simmer, he makes his way over to one of the boxes, ripping at the tape.

He reaches for a picture frame tucked away in one of the smaller boxes. With a tender smile, he carefully removes the frame, revealing a picture of you and him taken during one of your adventures at Hogwarts.

You had just spent the day out in Hogsmeade, and after successfully smuggling 5 bottles of fire whiskey back into the castle, you both sat on the sofa in the common room, a blanket thrown over the two of you. You had a red scarf wrapped around your neck. You loved that scarf, wearing it absolutely everywhere despite Theodore’s protests that you were repping the rivalling house.

You were curled up into Theodore's side, a grin on your face. Mid-laugh, your cheeks and the tip of your nose red as you were looking beyond the camera. It was a simple candid shot taken by Pansy and one that you had found incredibly adorable and immediately framed.

Gently dusting off the frame, Theodore carries it over to one of the shelves in the living room, setting it carefully down.

He hears the sound of the door opening behind him. Turning around, Theodore's heart skips a beat as he sees you standing in the doorway, a tired smile on your face as you kick off your shoes and step inside.

"Hey," you greet him, your voice soft with exhaustion but filled with warmth.

Theodore's face lights up at the sight of you, and he can't help but feel a rush of excitement. Dropping the box he's holding, he rushes over to you, enveloping you in a tight embrace.

"Welcome home," Theodore whispers, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "I've missed you."

You return his embrace eagerly, burying your face in his chest as you breathe in the familiar scent of his cologne. It's a comforting embrace, and you can’t help but cling to him a little tighter.

You pull away, a small grin tugging at your lips as you look around your new home.

The space may be filled with boxes and scattered belongings, but it already feels like home with Theodore by your side.

"Wow," you murmur, your eyes wandering around the room. "It looks amazing, Theo. You've been busy."

Theodore beams with pride at your words, his heart swelling with happiness.

"I wanted everything to be perfect for when you got home," he says, his voice filled with affection. "And I thought we could celebrate our new place with some homemade tomato soup."

You can't help but smile at his thoughtfulness, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. Theodore always knows how to make you feel special, even after a long day at work.

"I love it," you say, crossing the room to wrap your arms around him once more. "And I love you."

You momentarily break away from the hug, reaching over for the ladle, You sneakily take a sip of soup, ignoring Theodore’s gasp of indignation as you groan.

“And I fucking love tomato soup,” You groan, and Theodore can’t help but laugh.

“Go and change. I’ll plate it for us.” Theodore says, moving over one of the boxes labelled ‘Crockery’.

You hum, wandering off to the bathroom. Your voice resounds off the bare walls as you speak.

“Start without me, love. I need to shower and I want to go to bed as soon as possible”

Theodore frowns, ignoring the slight disappointment but agreeing nonetheless. He indulges in a hearty bowl of soup, one set for you on the counter as he leans against the kitchen island.

About 20 or so minutes later, Theodore is washing his bowl, and his attention is drawn to the sound of the bathroom door opening. You emerge, still clad in your work clothes, a tired but content expression on your face. Theodore's eyebrows furrow slightly at the sight, a hint of confusion flickering in his eyes.

You had said you were going to shower, so why haven’t you changed? Perhaps you were simply so tired you had forgotten to bring some other clothes, or you didn’t realise. Theodore shrugs it off, far too enamoured by you to ponder on it for long.

You pad into the kitchen as a gentle acoustic melody fills the area, and you look over to see the record player propped up on a still-sealed box, alongside a stack of records. You can't resist teasing him about unpacking the vinyl player first.

"Really, Theo? Out of all the boxes, you had to unpack the record player first?" you tease, a playful glint in your eyes.

Theodore rolls his eyes playfully, but there's a smile tugging at his lips as he pulls you into his arms. "Hey, music sets the mood," he defends himself, swaying you gently in a makeshift dance.

You can't help but laugh at his response, feeling the warmth of his embrace enveloping you.

You shake your head in mock exasperation, but there's a fondness in your gaze as you look up at him.

As the music plays softly in the background, Theodore and you begin to sway to the rhythm, your movements slow and synchronized. The dim light of the kitchen casts a warm glow over the scene, illuminating your faces as you gaze into each other's eyes.

Your hands find their place on Theodore's shoulders, while his hands rest gently on your waist, pulling you closer to him.

Theodore's gaze is soft as he looks down at you, a small smile playing on his lips. A small giggle resounds through the kitchen area as he pulls back, hands holding yours as he spins you around.

A small yelp escapes your lips as he dips you, his laughter mingling with yours as you dance with one another. You slow down slightly, resting your head against Theodore's chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat as you move together. The song slowly fades into the next track, and you pull back slightly, resting your chin on Theodore’s chest as you look up at him.

“It’s perfect. It’s everything we spoke about back when we were at Hogwarts” You murmur, and he smiles softly.

“It is” He whispers against your lips, as he leans down to kiss you.

This. This is what home felt like.

It was simple, but it was belonging, and it was belonging with you.

Theodore yawns, and a small grin tugs at your lips as you look at him.

“Go to bed. I’m gonna quickly eat and sort some things out then I’ll join you.” You reassure, pulling away.

He goes to protest but yawns, and realises that he truly was quite tired. With a sheepish smile, he nods, kissing your forehead as he disappears off to the bedroom.

Around half an hour later Theodore's eyes flicker open at the sound of you entering the room.

You settle under the covers, nestled close to each other, sharing the warmth.

"So, how was your day, love?" Theodore asks, his voice gentle as he strokes your hair.

"It was good," you reply with a soft smile. "Busy, as usual, but nothing I couldn't handle."

Theodore nods, his expression filled with understanding. "I'm glad to hear that. You always handle everything with such grace."

You chuckle softly, feeling a pang of bittersweet emotion tugging at your heart. "Well, you know me, always trying to keep it together."

There's a moment of silence between you, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air. Theodore feels a sense of longing, as though he is yearning for something he can't quite grasp.

"You know," he begins, his voice barely above a whisper, "We should go out to town tomorrow. I found a nice cafe you’d love.” Theodore mumbles, sleep overtaking him as he fights to keep his eyes open.

You remain silent, running a hand through Theodore's hair as his head rests on your chest.

“We’ll see.” You whisper, reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp.

Theodore frowns, slightly confused. He speaks through his half-asleep state.

“Do you have work tomorrow? It’s a Sunday, you never work on Sundays,” He mutters.

You pause, your heart skipping a beat at his words. A pang of sadness washes over you, but you push it aside.

“We’ll see tomorrow.” You say softly, pressing a kiss to Theodore’s forehead.

Theodore hums, curling into you closer as he wraps an arm around your waist.

“You make it sound like you’re going to disappear.” He mumbles into your neck. A small smile tugs at your lips as you wrap your arm around him and let your eyes flicker closed.

“I love you, Theodore.” You whisper, before you both succumb to sleep.

Dawn breaks, the gentle glow of the morning sunlight casting a serene glow on the bedroom. As Theodore wakes up in the morning he reaches out, sleepily fumbling around for you. His hand reaches out but finds only empty space, the other side of the bed cold. Groggy and disoriented, he blinks away the remnants of sleep, trying to shake off the fog that clouds his mind.

With a heavy sigh, he sits up in bed, rubbing his eyes as he takes in the quietness of the room. It's too quiet, he realizes as if the very absence of sound weighs down on him.

Pushing himself out of bed, Theodore pads across the room, his footsteps echoing softly against the floor. He wanders through the empty house, the silence feeling oppressive now.

“[Name]?” He mumbles out, looking around.

No response.

He frowns. Today was a Sunday. You never worked on Sundays. Surely, if you were working, you would have told him.

His phone pings and he’s momentarily distracted, looking down at his home screen.

Blaise: We’re always here for you. It might not get easier but we’re all here to help. Sending you love.

Theodore frowns, utterly confused. It was such a morbid message from Blaise out of the blue.

He doesn’t have much time to unpack the meaning, however.

Entering the kitchen, Theodore's gaze falls upon the untouched bowl of soup on the counter. Confusion furrows his brow as he approaches it, a sense of unease settling in the pit of his stomach.

"[Name]?" he calls out, his voice echoing in the empty room. There's no response, just the silence that seems to press in on him from all sides.

Becoming more awake now, Theodore's movements become more frantic as he searches the house, calling out your name with increasing urgency. But there's no sign of you, no trace of your presence anywhere.

Panic begins to rise within him, checking each room as your name falls from his lips in desperation.

Stumbling back into the living room, he walks to the corridor but pauses when a glimpse of a white card catches his eye, poking out from the box laying atop the coffee table. He feels inexplicably drawn to it, a nagging feeling telling him to pause his searches for you.

Frowning, he tugs it out of the box, and his eyes roam over the small, A5 sheet of card.

In Loving Memory of [Name] [Last Name]

14/04/1981 - 3/05/1998

oh.

right.

Theodore's heart lurches in his chest as he reads the words on the card, a cold shiver running down his spine.

He reads the dates again, his mind struggling to grasp everything.

Theodore sinks onto the nearest chair, his hands trembling as he clutches the card tightly. Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the truth, the weight of his grief crashing down on him with a crushing force.

It all makes sense now. The inexplicable moments of confusion, the nagging feeling that something wasn't quite right. He had been living in a dream, clinging to a reality that no longer existed.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. Grief made him acknowledge that you were gone, that you had been gone for four years, but love made him think you’d walk through the door any moment with a tired smile tugging at your lips. Love made him think he could cook for you and sit down with you at the end of the long day. Grief made him accept you would never be here again but love? Love made him look for you.

Tears blur his vision as he struggles to come to terms with the reality of your absence, a hollow ache settling in the pit of his stomach. How could he have been so blind, so foolish to believe that you were still here with him?

He feels suffocated by the emptiness of the house, the silence echoing like a constant reminder of what he has lost.

His movements uncoordinated and shaky, he stumbles as he walks over to the kitchen. He haphazardly throws open cabinets as he reaches for the bottle of whiskey, his fingers fumbling as he struggles to twist off the cap. Taking a massive swig straight from the bottle, he welcomes the burning sensation that courses down his throat, momentarily dulling the pain that constricts his airways.

Theodore stumbles back to the bedroom, the bottle of whiskey clutched tightly in his hand. As he navigates through the maze of boxes, he knocks one over, its contents spilling out onto the floor. He curses as he knocks it over, and in a cruel twist of fate, a red scarf is sent tumbling out of the box.

His breath catches in his throat as he picks up the scarf, his fingers brushing against the soft fabric. Somehow, it still carries the faint scent of your perfume, a haunting reminder of your presence that lingers in the air.

“Fuck!” Theodore shouts, smashing the bottle of whiskey against the kitchen counter as he holds onto the scarf.

Curses and shouts of anguish tear from his throat, echoing off the walls of the empty house like a sick symphony . He smashes the contents of the box with reckless abandon, the sound of breaking glass filling the air.

But as suddenly as his outburst began, it comes to an abrupt halt; Theodore's chest heaves with exertion. Panting heavily, he stares blankly at the wreckage around him, the full weight of his actions sinking in.

For a moment, there's only silence, broken only by the sound of his ragged breaths.

He wanted none of this. None of these stupid things, or this stupid house. Everywhere he looked, he was reminded of you. Perhaps it was because everything he did, was for you. Whether you were in this life or the next.

He kicks the scattered mess around him, walking off to the bedroom.

Tears well up in Theodore's eyes as he collapses onto the bed, clutching the scarf to his chest with a desperate grip. His body racks with sobs as he holds onto the memory of you tightly, and he can only pray that he’ll wake up and you’ll be there.

Grief may have been cruel, but love was crueller. And with the way Theodore loved loves you, he was only ever bound to such a miserable demise.

@mildlyuninformative @chgrch @gillyweeds @anti-hero03 @schaebickel @lillywildly @batmandabest @always-reading @multifandom-worlds

[sheisjoeschateau]

"Oh, so we DO love Steve..." | PART I

Steve Harrington x Bauman!fem!reader enemies to lovers, heavy angst, hurt/comfort, upside down mayhem, S2-S4, post S4 universe hot-take, end-of-the-world / dystopian setting, ugly fights turned smut (...but with hella plot). 18+

WHEN THE UNEXPECTED NIECE OF MURRAY BAUMAN GETS THROWN IN THE MIX, THE GANG HAS NO IDEA JUST WHAT THEY'RE IN FOR. SCRATCH THAT - STEVE DOESN'T KNOW. YOU GET ALONG WITH EVERYONE WELL. YOU BANTER WITH THE ADULTS, WHO APPRECIATE YOUR HELP. THE KIDS LOVE AND WORSHIP YOU. YOU'RE HELPFUL ALL AROUND. BUT AS FAR AS STEVE IS CONCERNED, YOU'RE JUST NUISANCE. AFTER ALL, YOU'RE THE REASON HE LOST THE LOVE OF HIS LIFE AND MISSED OUT ON A LIFE THAT "COULD'VE BEEN." IF YOU HAD JUST KEPT YOUR SORRY ASS OUT OF THE PICTURE... IF YOU HAD NEVER GONE WITH NANCY AND JONATHAN AFTER THEY LEFT YOUR WHACK-JOB UNCLE, MURRAY BAUMAN'S, BUNKER? HE WOULD BE HAPPY. SO F*CKING HAPPY. BUT HERE YOU WERE. YOU WERE BASICALLY THE COOLER (...AND SURE, MUCH MORE ATTRACTIVE) FEMALE VERSION OF MURRAY BAUMAN. YOU WERE SARCASTIC, QUICK-WITTED, TOO SMART FOR YOUR OWN GOOD, AND APPARENTLY BUILT FOR THE WAR. SURE, YOU WEREN'T AS BRASH AS YOUR UNCLE. BUT IN STEVE'S EYES, YOU WERE SOMEHOW FAR MORE OBNOXIOUS. HE DOWNRIGHT HATED YOU. HE WILL FOREVER HATE YOU... BUT WILL HE?

DISCLAIMER: I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE COPIED AND/OR REPOSTED ON HERE OR ANY OTHER PLATFORM, OR PUT INTO ANY AI PROGRAMS. THIS IS AN 18+ BLOG, MDNI.

An original fanfiction series, written by Misha St. James.

⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆ SERIES MASTERLIST ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

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I did not proof-read this after Tumblr gave me hell trying to share. So pls excuse possible typos. hehe

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Let's just get to the point, shall we?

Once upon a time, a young boy named Will Byers went missing. Later, he was found in an alternate dimension by the world's #1 mom and a cynical cop turned hero. A girl with a shaved head had telekinetic superpowers, befriend's Will's four loyal friends along the way and helping them track down their missing party member. Then, whatever the hell was on the other side - whatever was in this...upside down...took back Eleven. She'd been missing ever since that dreadful winter.

Fast forward to now: you're sitting in your uncle's bunker, looking at his wild display of efforts.  Papers, files, whiteboards covered in multiple words, arrows, sketches - all in different colored markers. Murray Bauman was on a mission, and he would be damned if that grumpy, cynical smart-ass known as Jim Hopper honestly thought that he could dismantle his efforts.  Nice try, chum. Game on. Thankfully, you'd gone to school with Barbara Holland. That's whose parents had assigned the task of searching for her to your uncle. Murray was asking you tons of questions, and you were glad to help. It meant spending time with the only family member you cared for, despite his wackiness. You guys got each other. Bantered well. Got shit done. Honestly, it was also a great way of drinking safely and not with a bunch of rowdy teenagers at some stupid party. You got along just fine with everyone at school. But damn, they could all be annoying.  ...especially Steve fucking Harrington, who was now the topic of conversation. You know, given that his house is where Barbara was last seen. "It just isn't making sense," your uncle huffed, raking his hands through his oily dark hair.  You sipped on the glass of vodka that your uncle had poured you, hissing at the strong taste. Leaning across the coffee table, seated on his couch, you tried to connect the dots with him. "I'm telling you, someone in that group of teens knows what's up. Or at least has an idea." Your uncle swigged at his vodka, defeated but ruthlessly trying to piece together his clusterfuck of scattered evidence across his wall. "Well then, guess we better grill 'em."

And that's how you come into the picture. When Nancy and Jonathan came to seek out Murray. And when they arrive, they're surprised to see you. They recognize you from school. Jonathan took several classes with you. In fact, the two of you got along well at Hawkins High. No, you weren't close. But you both were cool. Nancy, on the other hand, didn't know anything about you. Just that you took political science with Barbara, and got straight A's across the board. You could've been class valedictorian. But you were not looking for any sort of title that demanded pressure or attention. At least not in high school. Career wise? Sure. Not here, though. Not Hawkins. "Your timeline is wrong," Nancy is saying, making you and Bauman freeze.  Nancy is telling you that the girl with the buzzed hair is not Russian. She is, in fact, from Hawkins lab. And her name is...Eleven? So they do know something. And something turns out to be everything.

Jonathan sits you both down to relay everything to you both. And woof, does it give you guys a headache. Strangely, though... it makes a whole lot more sense than some mundane explanation of sorts. Obviously though, that puts you all in a tough spot where you'll all need to put your heads together. So the two classmates of yours stay, sharing in chilled Smirnoff and having to endure the hilarity that ensues between you and your uncle. You and Murray both banter well with the two of them. Jonathan finds you to be hilarious. Nancy finds you intimidating. Very intimidating. You’re quick witted, darkly humored and independent. But there is a reserved, mysterious sort of feminine energy to you, despite your more masculine strengths and bluntness. Over glasses of stiff vodka, you all come to the conclusion on how to go about exposing the truth about Barbara Holland's disappearance: water it down.

At the end of the night, you're all winding down -- you and your uncle having convinced the two lovebirds to stay. But when you're telling them they can take your uncle's guest room while you take the couch, Jonathan's asking if he can take the couch. You blink. Huh? ...surely Nancy is not still with --

"Okay, I'm confused," your uncle's saying. "What's going on here? Lovers quarrel?"

You cock an eyebrow, leaning back into the loveseat.

But Jonathan and Nancy are then talking over each other with weird, flustered excuses...saying they're just friends.

You and your uncle bust out laughing. And then you're shrinking back in your seat, knowing what's coming: one of your Uncle Murray's lovebird witchdoctor speeches that he barrels into anytime that two delusional people have convinced themselves that they aren't in love. Or at the very least, not into each other. 

Uncle Murray is breaking them down, one at a time. He's reading Jonathan like an angsty teen novel, seeing right through him and his brooding, mysterious energy.  Trust issues, thanks to daddy issues. Yikes, that makes you sip some more drink.

And then he's onto Nancy, saying that she's harder to read. But he manages anyway.  It's the Bauman way.

He's telling her that she's likely like everyone else, "afraid of what would happen if you accepted yourself for you who you really are." He looks at you. "Am I in the right ballpark?"

You nod, swallowing the last drop of vodka in your cup. "That...and afraid of that might happen if she didn't retreat back to the safety of someone familiar."

Nancy looks bewildered. But more than that, she looks caught. 

"Name?" your uncle is prodding, snapping his fingers.  "Name."

You and Jonathan both say it. "Steve."

Uncle Murray's face is priceless. He feigns adoration, putting on a baby voice as he repeats the name. "Dawh. Steve. We like Steve."

"Yes," Nancy laughs nervously.  Eek, you think.

"But we don't love Steve..." Your uncle's words floor Nancy.

And when Nancy's saying something about still being with Steve, insisting that she loves him, you roll your eyes. Even scoffing, getting her attention. Maybe if the vodka weren't in your system, you wouldn't be so bold. But Jonathan's mopey look just gives you more confidence.

"Boom, ladies and gents," you say with a grin. "Second lie of the evening." "The hell was the first one?" Jonathan asks, blinking. "You guys being just friends." You and your uncle say something along the same lines, simultaneously. You both laugh together, clinking glasses. The two not lovebirds just squirm awkwardly in their seats. Finally, you sigh. "Look. You guys don't wanna give up the ghost? Be my guest. I'll happily keep my bed." You stand up, ready to turn in. But not until casting them one last work, pointing a finger. "But if I were you two? I'd cut the bullshit and just share the damn bed." Murray snorts, rising to stand as well. He stretches. "Welllllp. I'm turning in for the night." You begin mounting the stairs, hollering: "Better act fast, kiddos. At least before this poison in my system knocks me out cold. Don't worry, Nancy, I don't snore. So if you do choose me, you're safe." "But that's so lame," Murray adds to that wryly, heading off to his room. You both tell each other goodnight, leaving the two angsty teens to decide their fate. All you know is that Nancy ends up walking out and not coming back, at one point in the night.  Yeah, thought so. Breakfast the next morning is even more hilarious. You and your uncle ask every single question that drips with innuendo that you ever possibly could. And it's worth every fucking minute.

Murray's gonna need to keep that couch cleaned. To your surprise, Murray sends you off with Nancy and Jonathan, but given that you want to go and see it all for yourself you don't mind. You’re basically his little spy.  Most uncles send off their nieces and nephews with some good advice, maybe a packed lunchbox or snacks, and a warm hug. 

Yours, however, sends you off with a full bottle of vodka, a thick wad of cash and some fun sarcastic banter. But he headlocks you in for a hug, and you cackle. He really is a nutcase, and man you can't help but love him. He is so not the parental type. Yet somehow, he's practically raised you. And in your opinion, you're pretty well-prepared for the world. More than most, in Murray's opinion. So off you go with Nancy Wheeler and Jonathan Buyers, and they both honestly enjoy your company. It helps them get past their umm...well...awkward new reality. That new reality that comes post-sex, after a long ass time of playing the tip-toe game. The sexual tension between them is hysterical to you. But you keep your thoughts to yourself for now. The vodka did most of the talking for you last night.

When you both arrive at wherever the hell your destination is, it's dark outside. And if you're being honest, it's pretty creepy. You're somewhere near the woods, and as you all walk closer you're beginning to see lights approaching you...along with a handful of shadowed figures. 

Fuck, you literally just got here.

But then, after a tense several moments... Nancy and Jonathan call out to them. You jump, startled at the fact that they do it so confidently. But the name that they call out suddenly makes it all make sense. "STEVE?" "NANCY...?" And that's how you became a crucial part of the most royal pain in the ass, King Steve's, life.

[fiction-is-life]

Congratulations on 500 non-bot followers! I just joined the ranks after reading the angstly little treat you did for @eleanor-bradstreet 🤩

I would like to request a blurb for Anthony from your prompt list. #8 - "Looks like we'll be trapped for a while."

This is so fun!

Trapped and Titillated

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for the follow, love, and for your kind words! I am so glad you liked Touchstone of Our Character!  I had so much fun writing this request; it is quite a bit longer than a blurb, but I hope that makes up for the fact it has taken me so long to write it!  Enjoy!

Summary: You are trapped with the Viscount.

Warnings: Angst, getting locked in a room, verbal fighting, steamy make out session, brotherly teasing

~

The door wouldn’t budge.  Oh, I knew when that latch clicked, I was doomed.  Utterly doomed.  And it was all his fault.

“Well, you have done it now, my lord,” I seethed, letting the veneer of polite reserve fall away.  It was always thin around him anyway.

Anthony Bridgerton had the audacity to raise one perfect, dark brow.  “I have done it?” he intoned, his voice cutting through my rising panic, reinforcing who I was angry at.

“Yes,” I hissed.  “You shut the door behind you, and now it is jammed.  It may be hours before someone comes by and finds us, and what then?”

He took a step towards me, matching the one I had subconsciously taken, bringing us closer than society would deem acceptable.  “As far as I am concerned, I have only done what was my right.  This is my library in my home, and I may shut any door I please.”

“Not when an unmarried young lady is in said library - unaccompanied.  Or have you forgotten the rules of the Ton while you were busy raking about the kingdom?” I knew I had struck my mark when I saw the Viscount’s eyes darken, his whole body tensing.

“Miss (Y/L/N), you do not know of what you speak,” he said through clenched teeth, and I shivered from the ice in his tone.  Anthony certainly did not miss it.  “I was raised a gentleman, Miss (Y/L/N), as a member of one of the most respected families in all of England, no less.”  

I scoffed and raised my chin and matched his stance.  We were practically nose-to-nose with each other.  “Well, there must be an exception to every rule, my lord, and I suppose you are it.”

I wanted to take the words back as soon as I said them, terrified at the way his features turned from red-hot anger to a cold, stony silence.  I took a shaky breath.  “M-my lord, I apologize.  I believe I am overwrought from the events of today.  Please forgive me,” I spoke in a rush, not daring to make eye contact with those dark depths again.

A long moment passed before he cleared his throat, his complexion returned to a more normal hue but his posture still stiff.  “It looks like we'll be trapped for a while, Miss (Y/L/N).  We may as well make ourselves comfortable," he spoke in a clipped, quiet tone.  For some odd reason, I wished he would have yelled instead.

He must have noticed the look of panicked confusion on my face as I alternated between staring at him and the couches near the fire.  “Do not fear, Miss (Y/L/N), I shall strive to reign in my more ungentlemanly urges.  Your virtue is safe from me.”

I bit my lip, nodding at his words.  They were what I wanted to hear.  Right?  Oh, dash it!  I had never been prone to hysterics before, but something about being this close to the Viscount was making my thoughts and feelings a muddle.  So, I did the only thing that felt safe.

I pretended to read.

I believed it was working, too.  That is, until the Viscount cleared his throat again.  I wanted to roll my eyes at the realization that the smallest of his gestures still commanded attention.  I was looked over during a one-on-one conversation, but Lord Anthony Bridgerton could simply breathe in a certain way and every head would turn.

“Is there something you need, my lord?”  I asked, my eyes still blindly trained on the pages in front of me so that I missed his growing smirk.

“You must be a great reader, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said.

I raised one perfectly arched eyebrow.  “Yes, I do love a good book,” I returned, turning the page.

“You are most certainly a more avid reader than I.”

That made me look up at him, confusion wrinkling my brow.  “Why do you say that, my lord?” 

He openly smiled now, allowing me to see that little dimple in his one cheek.  “I have never mastered the art of reading words that are upside-down.”

“What?”  I looked down and finally saw what book I had picked up.  It was a tome on new farming practices, and it was indeed upside down.  

Well, I could not let him win that easily.  “I find I absorb the words much better when it is more difficult to read them.”  I looked down my nose as I had seen many women do.  “I believe it is important to challenge oneself, so one does not become ignorant and vain.”

His features twisted into a wry grin.  “Very true, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said in a tight voice.  He crossed over to the sofa I was sitting on and sat down - far too close for comfort.  “What are other pursuits that you find are challenging enough, may I ask?”

I knew he was goading me, but I simply could not back down from his challenge.  “Any activities I find rewarding, I suppose.”  I closed the book and tilted my head, staring him in the eye.  “Making sound investments, helping run the household, volunteering for charities,” I listed, not even trying to mask the smugness in my tone.  “Basically anything that contributes to society, unlike spending every night at gaming hells or with ladies of the night or -”

His lips crashed onto mine, cutting me off.  I felt positively surrounded by him as he crushed me into the back of the sofa, his strong arms encircling my waist and pulling me into him.  He smelled of bay rum and mint, and it was utterly intoxicating.  

At first, I was too shocked to react, but as his lips moved insistently on my own, I started to follow his lead.  He growled when I parted my lips, and my eyes shot open when he darted his tongue into my mouth, but it felt too good to pull away.  So, I pulled him closer.

My hands tangled in his dark locks, and when my fingers caught on a knot, Anthony pulled back slightly, moaning.  I gasped and pulled back.  “Did I hurt you, my lord?” I asked, concerned.

He groaned again, his eyes darkening further.  “Call me that again,” he growled, panting heavily.

My face twisted in confusion.  “My lord?”

“Yes,” he breathed, his lips finding mine again.  His hands wandered this time, sending pings of pleasure straight to my core.  I couldn’t hold back my own noises when his strong hands found my breasts, my nipples pebbling embarrassingly.  

I lost track of time as Anthony peppered wet kisses down my neck and over the swells of my breasts where my dress did not cover them.  He started to work his hand under the skirt of my dress when a crash was heard on the other side of the library.  

“Brother! Are you in here?  I need to get away from all of the matchmaking endeavours mother has concocted,” the voice of Anthony’s brother, Benedict, was heard.  Anthony’s head snapped up, a panicked look in his eyes.  

“Stay here.  I shall get rid of him,” Anthony whispered before rising from the sofa, straightening his jacket where I had mussed it.  “Brother.  You find me at an inopportune time.  I was just leaving,” he called out to his brother, trying to prevent him from seeing me.

“Why?  You already met with the steward this morning.  You have nothing else planned until dinner.”  Even I could hear the skepticism in Benedict’s voice as it grew closer.  

“Well, yes, but I thought I might go for a ride,” Anthony hedged.

“Wonderful!  I shall join you!”

“No!” Anthony shouted.  “I mean, I was wishing to ride out alone this time,” he finished in a more tempered tone.  

There was a long pause where I thought Benedict just may have believed the lie.  “Are you sure you want to be alone?  Because I think Miss (Y/L/N) might disagree.”  I gasped.  “I shall see you at dinner, brother, Miss (Y/L/N),” he said, a door closing behind him shortly after.  

I sat up with a huff, my cheeks flaming a brighter red than they had been before.  “I am sorry; I did not think anyone would follow me here -”

“What door did he come through?” I interrupted what was sure to be a very eloquent apology.

Now, the Viscount’s cheeks turned red and he scratched the back of his neck nervously.  “Well, um, he used the hidden entrance in the south wall.”

“Oh, you cad!” I screamed.  “Open it.  Now, my lord.”

Anthony silently moved toward the south wall, pulling a certain book back to reveal a hidden door.  I gathered my dignity about me as I fixed my skirts.  I caught a whiff of his cologne once more as I passed him, and for a brief moment, I wanted to turn back.  Instead, I held my head high, giving the Viscount one of those superior looks other ladies had mastered.  I wanted him to know I was not to be trifled with.

But I knew this was not the end of my encounters with the Viscount.

~

My Masterlist

[thewitchblue]

"Why'd he send you?"

Bruce asked bluntly, his Batman suit on with his gaggle of children evasdropping in the background not-so-subtly. I quirked an unamused eyebrow at the bulky man in front of me.

"It just so happens that I owed Constantine a favour. Do you want my help, or do you want to deal with your little demon friend all by yourself?"

Batman huffs an amused laugh. This is the best demonologist Constantine claims in the world? Red Robin asked Nightwing in a mutter,

"I'm not seeing things, am I?"

Apparently, he didn't think I'd hear him. I smirked as I turned my attention to the older Robin. He nervously shifted his weight when my intense gaze watches him, before becoming a bit panicked once he realized he physically cannot move away from me as I approach. I eye him up-and-down with appreciation before saying,

"You're cute, Little Red. Let's get coffee sometime. After I banish this fucker, of course."

This seemed to surprise everyone in the cave, but my focus was back to the demon Batman managed to get an attachment to.

"Now, how did you manage to get this fucker attached to you? Were you feeling especially lonely and struck a deal?"

I eye Batman curiously. Red Hood chuckles in amusement, but I choose to ignore him. There is a weird tension in the room when Red Hood and Batman make eye contact, so I clear my throat loudly to draw attention back to me as I study the cage that the demon is currently trapped in it. He managed to isolate and contain the demon, so that's a start. He sighs and explains,

"No, I'm not lonely enough to stoop so low."

I give an acknowledging hum. My eyes stay trained on the demon. It was rattling the cage it was imprisoned in, hissing and cursing at me while I approach it.

"Let's just ask the demon then, shall we?"

I stop in front of the demon and ask it,

"Now, what deal did you two make?"

The demon merely growled in response. I growl back at it, reaching into its body and squeezing its heart until it whimpered. I hiss,

"Answer me."

Its gravelly voice said,

"I was promised a new body by an alternative Batman. Clearly, I made a wrong turn."

I purred as I released my grip,

"Good boy."

Batman frowned in thought, but stayed silent by my side. He seemed to already have an idea of who struck the deal.

"Now, which Batman promised you this wanker?"

The demon snarls,

"He goes by Owlman. He merely promised me a Batman."

I give a thoughtful hum as I fully remove my hand from its heart, wiping off the dark blood from my hand.

"Well, that turned out swimmingly for you, didn't it?"

It snarled in response to my false sympathy. Red Hood snorts at my antics. He seemed to be entertained by the entire situation.

"Well, it appears your little deal wasn't fully thought out. I'm sending you back. Next time, possess Owlman instead."

I murmur my spell softly to myself before snapping in a particular pattern. The demon howled before it dissipates like mere smoke. I crack my knuckles nervously before turning back to the Batfamily and saying,

"If you need my services again, ask Little Red over there. He has my number."

Red Robin looked confused until he reached into his pocket and felt the slip of paper I planted on him. He pulls the slip of paper out of his pocket to the dismay of everyone in the cave. I send a wink his way once his disbelieving eyes turn back to me.

With a wave of my hand, I disappear from their cave before anyone could reply. Truthfully, I was a tad nervous to hear his reply. I'm still rusty when dealing with the living after spending so many years trapped in a metaphorical cage with anti-magic wards. Before John saved my sorry arse, I was entrapped for pissing off the wrong crowd.

I have much more experience with the dead and celestial as a result. They are a lot easier to figure out and handle than regular human beings.

Tim had never been more conflicted. Granted, he didn't have anyone who showed genuinely interest in him like this demon hunter. He had to applaud the flawless effort.

"Aww, you two would be so cute!"

Dick said with an encouraging grin. Dick, of course, was excited and happy for his brother. He wraps an arm around him in a side hug before letting go and saying,

"You should reach out! The chemistry between you two reminds me of myself and Starfire."

Jason rolls his eyes and fakes gags at Dick's brotherly excitement. Despite his annoyed exterior, he still defends Tim,

"You care too much, Grayson. Let my replacement come to his own decisions."

Tim gives a shy smile. The demonologist was rather cute and he appreciates the boldness and the stealth it took to even slip the note in his pocket. He softly says,

"Maybe I will."

[radiance1]

Something inspired by this post and this song.

Danny blinked as everything around him seemed to pause. Mist escaping past his lips and he looked at the still branch outside of the window.

Hands rested over his shoulders. "My dearest child." Clockwork's spoke from behind him, and Danny stilled. "Won't you join? We can get you out this little predicament binding you by human law."

"No." Danny huffed, resolutely staring out of the window. "I don't want to. You made me try so hard to avoid my bad future, and now you just want me to do something like that?"

"My dear boy," Clockwork flew in front of him, cupping Danny's face in gentle hands. "Your alternate future destroyed this world and as such, the Observants wanted you dead. It would have been unfair for you to be killed for a mere possible future."

Danny scoffed. "You only interfered because you saw a future with me with at your side." Danny scowled, wanting to pull back from Clockwork's hands but found that he couldn't. He scowled a bit more at his body's betrayal, sinking into the touch instead of pulling away.

"I will not lie to you, I had indeed interfered because of such." Clockwork slowly rubbed comforting circles on the boy's cheeks. "But also because you are my child, even if you were then, you would have been eventually. It is a parent's duty to protect their child, is it not?"

Danny wanted to refute that. But the memories of his parent's death at the hands of the GIW for him caused the words to be stuck in his throat. The images of both their and his sister and friend's bodies caused his vision to blur.

He choked down the tears.

"My poor child," Clockwork rested his forehead against Danny's own, a comforting gesture. "To have faced such cruelty at human hands, and for your own human donor to deny you your grief." Clockwork smiled. "Just let us help you, come to our side and we shall make it all go away."

Danny stayed silent for a moment, a small part of himself feeling guilty over wanting Clockwork's touch but a larger part wanting it anyway. "No." Danny breathed out harshly. "They don't deserve to die just because of that."

They don't.

If he says it enough, it'll stay true.

No matter what happens.

Clockwork leaned back, hands falling from his face and Danny had to force himself not to follow the touch as Clockwork circled behind him.

"I am willing to ask as many times as it takes, for you will join us eventually." Danny hated the certainty in the ghost's tone, but couldn't help but push his head into the hand that patted his head. "A piece of advice, however. War is not as patient as I am."

And with those parting words, Clockwork disappeared. Time resuming at once with Danny still sat on his bed. He flopped onto his back, head hitting the pillows as he turned on his side. He stared at his hands silently, before turning one palm up as ice danced up from his palm, slowly taking shape into lifelike versions of his family.

Alive and happy.

A small smile grew on his face he watched. Fighting against living food that Danny had once disliked.

What he wouldn't give to have it all back.

A knock broke him from his starring, and the ice collapsed in his hand.

"Master Danny?" Alfred's voice came from the other side of the door, causing Danny to frown. "Would you be joining us for lunch?"

Danny wanted to say no. He didn't want to interact with anyone in this stupid family.

Danny hated how he couldn't say no without one of them making it into some kind of problem.

So what if he hasn't eaten in a few days? He would live.

Danny sighed, standing up from his bed and silently staring at the door before he got up. He stared at the bracelet on his wrist for a moment as he grabbed onto the doorknob, the one that limited his power extremely, and opened the door.

He stared up at the pleasantly surprised expression on the butler's face, before looking away as he started to lead him towards the kitchen.

[archiveikemen]

Ellis Twilight 2nd Birthday Campaign: Story

Chapters 1 — 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

Sometimes, when I see him basked in the morning sunlight, I feel uneasy for no reason.

Kate: Ellis, Ellis.

But his long arms and legs wrapped around my body restricting my freedom of movement felt like proof of his presence today.

Kate: It’s morning already.

Ellis: … I want to hold you a little longer.

With the temperatures of early summer rising, just holding each other was enough to make us sweat buckets.

(Feeling his warmth makes me happy, but is he really fine with this…?)

Kate: Ellis, don’t you feel hot?

Ellis: I do, but I’d hate being separated from you.

Ellis: Although, I’ll move if you don’t like it.

Kate: I do! It’s just, we’re getting sweaty…

I reached my hand out to wipe the beads of sweat trickling down his neck.

Ellis’ facial expression grew serious as I wiped his sweat.

Ellis: … Let’s buy a negligee suitable for summer. The kind that's made with a thin material.

Ellis: Then I can cling to you without getting sweaty.

Kate: Fufu… shall we head out to buy it together next time?

I got out of bed to tidy my appearance and noticed his eyes twinkling,

He was definitely waiting for the words I was about to say to leave my lips.

Kate: Happy birthday, Ellis.

Ellis: Thanks. I’m so glad you’re the first person to wish me.

We shared a brief kiss that ended with a sound.

Ellis: I want to kiss you more, but I'll hold it back because I’m looking forward to today.

The way he rubbed his head against my shoulder made him look like a cat asking for affection.

(I’m glad he’s been showing me his adorable side since we started dating.)

My chest tightened while watching the sight that only I knew existed.

(My heart overflows with love for him whenever I witness the adorable side of Ellis who always appears so cool.)

While stroking his soft hair, I outlined today’s plans in my head.

(Today will surely be enjoyable.)

…

Kate: … Train service has been suspended?

I stared at the sign on the platform with “SUSPENDED” written in large letters.

Ellis: There was a landslide in a town along the railway track.

Ellis: Fortunately, there weren't any casualties, but the heavy rainfall makes it dangerous for the train to run.

Ellis returned from speaking to the station staff.

Ellis: It just started raining here.

Kate: Looks like it’ll get heavier.

(But…)

The plans I pictured us doing this morning instantly crumbled away.

(We were supposed to visit the fields of lavenders in the suburbs and experience all sorts of things.)

We recently planned this outing after hearing that the famous lavender fields were at full bloom…

(I thought it’d be a fun opportunity to make new happy memories together… I guess it can’t be helped.)

I tried to change my mindset and make myself feel better, but my slumped shoulders didn’t escape his sight—

Ellis: Hey, how can I cheer you up?

Kate: Huh?

Ellis: I don’t like seeing you sad.

He gently caressed my cheek with his hand, slightly cold from the rain.

Kate: I’m not sad, but I’m a little troubled.

Ellis: What for?

Kate: … I didn’t think of a back-up plan for today.

(I never thought train service would be suspended, so I didn't prepare any alternative plans…)

(I should've thought of one.)

Ellis: In that case, shall we return to the castle?

Kate: … If things are just going to get worse from here, we should.

When I pressed my lips together in frustration, he traced them with his thumb—

Ellis: … I’m sorry. That was a little unkind thing to say.

Kate: Huh?

Ellis: I don't want to go back to the castle yet.

Kate: Ellis…

The sound of rainfall hitting the train station's roof grew louder.

Ellis: I want to do enjoyable things with you on my birthday.

I reflexively pouted when he poked at my upper lip and flashed me a cheeky smile—

Ellis: Shall we go on a date in rainy London?

Ignoring the eyes of others, he stole my lips in a kiss.

…

Kate: The rain turned into a downpour in no time, huh.

The usually bustling city was quietened by the heavy rain.

Ellis: Is the rainwater getting onto you, Kate? Are you okay?

Kate: I’m okay, but you’ll get drenched if you keep tilting the umbrella like that…

I stopped his hand from tilting the large umbrella towards me and looked at this soaking wet shoulder.

(I was glad he wanted to share an umbrella, but…)

(Ellis is going to catch a cold if he keeps this up.)

We walked closely next to each other to stay dry, but—

Ellis: Kate, be careful of the puddle.

Kate: Whoa

He pulled me close by the waist and I clung to him in response.

I looked up to see the satisfied look on his face—

(Being this close is bad for my heart…!)

Ellis: … Your face is red. So cute.

He gave me a quick kiss, making my heart beat even faster.

Kate: E-Ellis! We're in public.

I hastily glanced around at our surroundings as he stole my lips once more.

Ellis: It’s fine. Barely anyone comes outside in this rain.

Ellis: … Besides us.

Kate: Mmph.

Changing angles, he pecked my lips and took my breath away.

Ellis: Are you getting breathless? You’re cute too when you're trying to catch your breath.

Kate: — G-Geez!

His proactivity left me bewildered, but my joy outweighed that feeling.

(Ellis is being sweeter than usual today…)

Ellis: There’s somewhere I want to go. Is that okay?

Kate: Of course, anywhere is fine.

(I never thought there would come a day when Ellis has a place he wants to go.)

Little by little, he grew more comfortable expressing his wants and pleading for things, and I always felt the natural urge to indulge him in everything he wanted.

Ellis: Then let’s go to that store and buy you a negligee.

Ellis: Next, we’ll head to that accessories shop to pick out a few pieces that suit you.

Ellis: Afterwards, we'll get whatever you want from that gelato shop.

Kate: … Hold on, isn’t it your birthday today?

Ellis: That’s right.

He cocked his head to the side innocently without questioning the things he just said…

Kate: This feels like it’s my birthday instead.

Ellis: Seeing you happy is my greatest joy in life.

Ellis: For my sake, I want to make you happy.

Ellis: Can’t I?

(Ellis has been acting a little cunning lately.)

He intentionally put on a worried facial expression, knowing very well that I was weak to his self-indulgence and pleas.

Kate: … I guess I should celebrate my birthday by gifting you tons of presents.

Ellis: I’ll be happy with anything as long as it’s from you, but now that just gives me something more to look forward to.

Ellis: So starting with that store…

We startled walking around the quiet streets of London.

It felt as though the two of us were the only people left on earth.

…

Ellis: I’m glad the rain stopped.

He held many paper bags in his hands with a smile.

Kate: Me too, but I feel guilty for having you buy so many things for me.

Ellis: Whenever I’m walking around outside for work, I spot many things that I think would suit you.

Ellis: But I’m unsure if you’d like them, so I’ve been wanting to go shopping for them when we’re out together.

Kate: I’m happy with anything if it’s from you, Ellis.

Looks like the clothes, accessories, and shoes he bought for me were all I’ll be wearing this summer.

Ellis: I can’t wait to see you wear the stuff I picked out.

He happily glanced at the paper bag I was holding.

Ellis: By the way, what did you buy?

Kate: This is a present for you.

(He told me there was nothing he needed, but…)

It caught my eye while we were shopping and I couldn't resist getting it for him.

Kate: But I’ll give it to you later on because you have so many bags to carry.

Ellis: Fufu…

As we were nearing a bridge, I noticed that he wasn’t next to me and turned around.

Kate: Ellis?

He stood a little behind me painted in the colours of the twilight sky and smiling, his eyes sparkling.

The expression on Ellis’ face covered by his large palm was sweet like jam.

It was almost poisonous.

Ellis: Say, Kate.

Ellis: How happy are you right now?

The words spoken with a look of ecstasy felt new to me, despite having heard them countless times before.

Ellis: I’m happy.

Ellis: Being together with you, dressing you up in things I bought, devoting all my desires to you… they make me so happy.

There was no doubt that he'd do the same for anyone if it’d make them happy, but this was the first time he gave me so many gifts out of his own will.

Kate: … I’m happy too, and definitely much happier than you think.

Ellis: Nope, I’m happier than that. Because right now, I’m so relieved you're alive.

Step by step, he walked towards me, the sun setting in the background.

Ellis: The thought of killing you in the happiest moment of your life to make it last an eternity hasn't changed, but I feel the happiest when I realise that you’re alive.

Ellis: Surely, it's because my happiness can’t exist without you.

His hand caressing my cheek was tender and warm, and yet it somehow made me feel uneasy.

Ellis: … I wish we could stay like this in a place where no one can find us, forever.

As nighttime approached, the shadows in his eyes grew darker.

Kate: That would mean we'll never see Jude and the other members of Crown again, you know?

Ellis: I'll feel a little sad, but I'll be fine with just having you there.

Sometimes, I feel uneasy for no reason.

Ellis: Whenever I hear you talking to other people, I want to interrupt the conversation.

Ellis: I want to be the only person you look at. I want you to enjoy talking to no one else but me.

Ellis: How I wish I could be the only person who hurts you, and the only person you hurt.

(We care so deeply about each other that it feels somewhat dangerous…)

It’s because I’m so happy right now, I feel uneasy about the fact that this would someday come to an end.

Perhaps this was what I’ve been fearing all along.

Ellis: … Kate?

The sudden smell of lavender made me look up.

Down the path, I saw a bed of purple flowers swaying in the wind.

Kate: Lavender…

Ellis: It really is here.

The light from the setting sun reflecting off the wet flowers, making them twinkle like stars, was a beautiful sight that only existed in that very moment.

Kate: … Like you said, I think it'd make us happy to go somewhere we could be alone.

(But…)

I took my eyes off the lavenders and looked at him.

The colour of the sky growing dark matched the colour of his hair, making it look as though he was about to be washed away by the twilight.

Kate: Ellis, I love watching you at work.

Kate: I love watching you enjoy talking to the other members of Crown too.

Kate: Therefore, I don't want us to go to that place where it’s only the two of us just yet.

Kate: Because then, I won’t be able to see the sides of you that I love.

I took over one of the paper bags he held in his hand, and gave him mine.

He tilted his head curiously and I urged him to open the bag.

Inside the bag was a bottle filled with a clear liquid.

Ellis: … A storm glass?

Kate: The rain caused a change in our plans for the day and although we still had fun nevertheless, I thought it’d be great if we could know the weather when we go out again in the future.

A storm glass was a tool that told the weather through the crystallisation or freezing of the liquid inside.

Kate: I thought that this will help us plan our outings.

Tiny snowflake-like crystals formed in the bottle, they were traces of the rainfall from earlier.

Kate: I understand that you feel like you want to make this moment last forever, but I’m looking forward to spending tomorrow with you.

Kate: Even if it were to hurt, I don't want to end without knowing the happiness that comes after the pain.

He held the storm glass with both hands and muttered.

Ellis: … The reason why I cling to you when I sleep is because I feel like you might vanish somewhere.

Kate: Eh…

Ellis: I know I should really look forward to tomorrow. But,

Ellis: I have this constant uneasy feeling that you’ll be gone when I wake up.

Ellis: That’s why I have the thoughts of wanting to put an end to this quickly.

(Ellis feels the same way…)

I always thought that his long limbs wrapped around me like thorny vines purely out of possessiveness, but turns out that he feels the same way I do.

Kate: I’ve been thinking the same thing.

I wrapped my hands around his slightly trembling hands and the crystals in the storm glass shook.

Ellis: … You’re amazing, Kate.

Kate: Am I?

Ellis: You are, because you easily put into words the feelings I couldn't express.

It was the first time I saw his shy smile.

Ellis: I just fell in love with you all over again.

Simultaneously, our lips came together.

…

Kate: Nn…

I woke up to the feeling of the morning sun.

(We fell asleep last night without putting our clothes back on…)

Kate: Ah…

I felt a tug and our skin touched.

Kate: Ellis?

Ellis: …

The early summer breeze blew into the room, our curtains swaying in the wind.

In the quiet morning, I hugged him back tightly.

Kate: I love you, Ellis.

Kate: Stay by my side forever.

Perhaps feeling comforted by the sight of the slight smile on his lips, sleepiness washed over me again.

(It’s still early, I’ll sleep a little more.)

As I closed my eyes, I caught a glimpse of the storm glass indicating that the weather was good and I pictured us spending a day of simple joy.