#Dance Hall Transformation

[ithebookhoarder]

Could you write an Anthony Bridgerton x wife!reader fic? They are newly weds and the reader wishes to pamper Anthony while he is bathing. He’s a bit cautious about it at first because he is not used to such affection. Thank youu I love your writing a lot especially the truth or dare fic.

In Your Hands (Anthony Bridgerton x Wife!Reader)

A/N: First of all, thank you so much! And I hope you like this. Thanks for sending this ask in, luckily I was already toying with a few Bridgerton ideas thanks to the new trailers so this came surprisingly easy.

Also, if any of you guys enjoy my work, or just feel like it, then consider buying me a cup of coffee here: https://ko-fi.com/ithebookhoarder ☕️

Warnings: Nudity references, the start of sexy-times, alcohol 

Masterlist

Anthony was someone who hated routine. After all, as much as he was devoted to the day to day duties that came with being the head of his family, if he had his way he would escape the city and the ton, choosing instead the peace and tranquility offered by the countryside, at Aubrey Hall. He dreamed of being able to be just a brother, son and - as of recently - a husband. 

Only married a few months, your new husband was keen to seize each and every opportunity to escape his duties when they appeared - whether it was sneaking off for long rides in the countryside, or making an early exit from whatever social gathering you both had been forced to attend as the new Viscount and Viscountess Bridgerton; Whatever allowed you both to be alone and back in one another’s arms (usually sans clothes) as soon as possible, was a good idea to him. 

It was no surprise then, that there was one part of his daily routine that Anthony actually relished: bathing. 

Oh, yes. There was little more in the world that could bring your fully-grown husband such child-like joy as being able to soak in a tub of steaming hot water for an hour or two. The sight always made you smile as you entered your bedroom: Anthony, half asleep, looking as if the stress had physically melted away. 

It was your favourite sight - and not just because of the exquisite view it granted you of his sculpted form - but because of how calm and peaceful he looked. It was as if he had transformed back into the mischievous and carefree boy you’d first fallen in love with all those years ago. Back when your only concerns had been not tripping on your skirt at your presentation, making sure you were actually asked to dance at a ball, and surviving the social season without embarrassing your family or getting yourself roped into some scandal. 

Whilst you knew neither you nor Anthony would ever change a single thing about your life together, you knew it came with a cost. In fact, today it had been enduring hours of talks with local tenants, the family’s book keeper, estate managers, and even several possible suitors looking to secure some kind of marriage contract with one of his younger sisters. (You’d been informed by several members of the household staff that those meetings had been remarkably swift, however, with each unfortunate man looking rather dejected as they were shown from the house). 

If you’d been able to spare him the pain or share his burden you would have, but unfortunately you’d been occupied with matters of your own. Being the lady of such a grand estate came with duties of its own, and you were quite done looking over seating arrangements, replying to correspondence, and paying social calls for one day.  

Still, at least you’d both survived to tell the tale - no wonder Anthony looked half asleep. Then again, maybe it had something to do with the open bottle of whiskey that sat on the table beside the tub. You knew without looking at the label which bottle it was, having smuggled it out of the library yourself to enjoy together. 

“Anthony Bridgerton!” A fake gasp of horror escaped your lips as you appeared in the doorway, a hand pressed to your chest. “You are a sneak and a traitor. That whiskey was for me too, you know.”

“And a good evening to you too, my love. Never fear, there’s plenty to share,” he teased, head relaxed, tipped backward as he took a sip from the glass in his hand. Your eyes were transfixed on the hollow of his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Besides, I would apologise but I simply couldn’t wait a minute longer. Not when I couldn’t feel my back from sitting at that desk all afternoon.”

The moan that escaped his lips was almost sinful as he sank a little lower in the water.  

“Well, you’re forgiven. You look far too content for me to even dream of being mad,” you sighed, drawing close and perching on the rim of the tub. Anthony handed over the whiskey glass with a soft smile, letting you take a sip of your own before you placed it back onto the table. 

You could feel the warmth seep into your bones immediately, even if that was also likely in part to your proximity to the tub and your naked husband. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair?”

Anthony’s eyebrows rose at the question, the surprise written across his face. “What?”

“You heard me,” you teased, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands of hair atop his head. “I can wash your hair, and get your back for you. Unless you’d rather do it yourself, or I can ring for someone?”

“What? No, that’s uh, that’s not necessary,” he chuckled, visibly flustered - which was amusing and perplexing. After all, it wasn’t as if you two hadn’t seen and touched every single inch of the other in the weeks since your wedding. However, he looked almost confused at the idea that you would offer such a thing. “You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to,” you soothed. “Let me take care of you, for once. Husband.”

It was probably below the belt to purr his title like that, but you knew how that one little word had the power to reduce the great Viscount Bridgerton to a puddle. That, along with the warmth of the water and the buzz of the whiskey, made him almost pliant to your every whim. Still, you knew him well enough to recognise the lingering hesitation in his eyes as he nodded in agreement. 

He very rarely let his guard down or allowed anyone to assist him in any way. You sometimes believed that had the servants not been dependant upon their work to make a living that Anthony would have dismissed them long ago and tried to run the entire estate single handedly just to prove he could. That he was worthy of the title he bore, and that he was every bit as great a man, brother, and husband as his father. 

It appeared he was the same way when it came to letting himself be taken care of and it made your heart ache for the man you loved. 

Pressing a triumphant kiss to his lips, you swiftly manoeuvred yourself, pulling up a stool and grabbing a jug from the dresser.  

“Just relax… trust me,” you murmured, waiting until he did as he was bid. The gesture alone said volumes, more so than any words ever could. 

Waiting until his eyes were shut, you reached for the soap, tilting his head against your chest as you began to massage the mixture into his scalp. Yet again, your husband seemed to transform into a cat, purring with every touch in a way that made it suddenly very difficult to resist the urge to strip off and join your husband in the water instead. 

“Enjoying yourself?” You giggled as Anthony barely managed more than a groan in reply. 

It was taking every ounce of your self control to focus your attentions solely on Anthony, and not on the way his body seemed to be reacting to your ministrations. Thankfully, you were able to last long enough to finish the job, using the jug to rinse the water through his hair, making sure to angle his head upwards so the water ran off him instead of into his eyes. 

But you were only human; the minute you were done washing the last suds from his scalp you made your move. Sliding off the stool, you knelt beside him and reached out to caress his cheek, causing him to open his eyes almost sleepily. Leaning forward you planted a soft, delicate kiss to his lips, causing him to groan in response.

Without saying a word, his hands rose, twisting their way into your hair as he deepened his kiss. It was clear what he wanted next. 

“Now, wife,” he growled, pulling back just long enough to reach down and tug teasingly at the tie of your dress-robe. You could feel the warmth of his touch as his wet body began to dampen the material. “I think it’s your turn to let me take care of you… so you’d better get in here, before I drag you in here.”

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

Cab Calloway - Minnie the Moocher 1931

"Minnie the Moocher" is a jazz-scat song first recorded in 1931 by Cab Calloway and His Orchestra, selling over a million copies and was the biggest chart-topper of that year. "Minnie the Moocher" is most famous for its nonsensical ad libbed ("scat") lyrics. In performances, Calloway would have the audience and the band members participate by repeating each scat phrase in a form of call and response, eventually making it too fast and complicated for the audience to replicate. The song is based lyrically on Frankie "Half-Pint" Jaxon's 1927 version of the early 1900s vaudeville song "Willie the Weeper".

"Minnie the Moocher" was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1999, and in 2019 was selected for preservation in the National Recording Registry as "culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant" by the Library of Congress.

In 1978, Calloway recorded a disco version of "Minnie the Moocher" on RCA Records which reached number 91 on the Billboard R&B chart. "Minnie the Moocher" has been covered or simply referenced by many other performers. Its refrain, particularly the call and response, is part of the language of American jazz. At the Cab Calloway School of the Arts, which is named for the singer, students perform "Minnie the Moocher" as a traditional part of talent showcases.

In 1932, Calloway recorded the song for a Fleischer Studios Talkartoon short cartoon, also called Minnie the Moocher, starring Betty Boop and Bimbo, and released on March 11, 1932. Calloway and his band provide most of the short's score and themselves appear in a live-action introduction, playing "Prohibition Blues". The thirty-second live-action segment is the earliest-known film footage of Calloway. In the cartoon, Betty decides to run away from her parents, and Bimbo comes with her. While walking away from home, Betty and Bimbo wind up in a spooky area and hide in a hollow tree. A spectral walrus—whose gyrations were rotoscoped from footage of Calloway dancing—appears to them, and begins to sing "Minnie the Moocher", with many fellow ghosts following along, during which they do scary things like place ghosts on electric chairs who still survive after the shock. After singing the whole number, the ghosts chase Betty and Bimbo all the way back to Betty's home. In 1933 another Betty Boop/Cab Calloway cartoon with "Minnie the Moocher" was The Old Man of the Mountain.

Calloway performed the entire song in the movie Rhythm and Blues Revue (1955), filmed at the Apollo Theater. Much later, in 1980 at age 73, Calloway performed the song in the movie The Blues Brothers. Calloway's character Curtis, a church janitor and the Blues Brothers' mentor, magically transforms the band into a 1930s swing band and sings "Minnie the Moocher" when the crowd becomes impatient at the beginning of the movie's climactic production number.

"Minnie the Moocher" received a total of 71,1% yes votes!

[gracexthoughts]

headstrong

warnings; none really, fluffy, mostly unedited  summary; okay so i combined these two requests (kind of and i may still write another intrusion like fic another time) because King!Dad!Jace immediately infiltrated my mind and would not let go once I saw these  a/n; again, thank you all for the requests, i love them all and am excited to work on them but here is a little short drabble bc i couldn't not write this immediately 

“What?” the Princess Luceara exclaims, her dark violet eyes darting between her mother and father. 

“You are of age, Lucy,” the girl's mother sighs, adjusting in her seat; the weight of her growing stomach causing discomfort. “You must have known this an inevitability.” 

“You told me I could choose!” The princess fires back. Kingsguards had intercepted her on her way to the Dragonpit so she stands in her riding clothes, her light gray hair woven back into braids that hang around her shoulder. Her hair is darker than that of the typical Targaryen, but like her father, her dragon blood proves true as she rides her dragon and argues and commands with the fire of her house in her voice. 

“You may and will. All I’m saying is it's high time we begin the search,” Jacaerys states, watching his daughter. Fathers aren’t meant to have favorites but he adores his eldest, his darling girl, his only daughter. The day she came into the world was one of the most terrifying and beautiful of his life and he adores the woman she is becoming, even though she aggravates him so. 

“You’re a year elder than I was when I met your father,” the Queen says, glancing up at her husband who rests his hand on the back of her chair. 

“You were fortunate. Aunt Baela and Aunt Rhaena were fortunate! Most are not! And yet you are intent to sell me off!” Lucaera cries indignantly. 

“We are not,” Jacaerys yells loudly before stopping himself and lowering his voice, “selling you off. You must marry to secure your reign. It is a fact, irregardless of your gender. My mother did the same, if you recall your histories.” 

The princess’ eyebrow raises as she coldly stares down her father, her gaze defiant and hard. She watches as her father’s face transforms from the soft, if disgruntled, image of her father to the vision of the King. She grits her teeth, knowing this is a battle she will lose, today or in a moon, or a year but she will lose. The inevitability of her fate consumes her hot like dragon breath, choking her and wrapping around like chains. Her hard gaze falters but, ever headstrong, she turns on her heel, her gray curls and blood red coat swaying in her wake as she storms from the King’s chambers. 

Jacaerys sighs, leaning down on the table at the center of the room. The weight of rule weighs heavy on his shoulders but in truth, it's his familial duties he worries of most. Even decades past the Dance of Dragons and in the safety of the Red Keep, his memories haunt him. Every draw of a sword reminds him of battle. Every labor his wife endures sends him into a panic, memories of his mother’s cries echoing through the halls as she birthed his sister still ringing in his ears. He is only pulled from the depths of his memories by his wife’s touch on his shoulder as she comes to stand at his side. 

“She learned that look from you,” Jacaerys states, pushing up off the table to turn to his Queen. 

“She will come around, just as I did,” she says placatingly, reaching up to cup his cheek. 

“It took nearly a year, if I recall correctly. And that was after we met,” the king reminds her, remembering all too well how she shunned him when they first met at seven and ten years of age. She’d give him the same look his daughter leveled at him just moments ago whenever he tried to chip away at her defenses. 

“Well then you better summon suitors to court or send her off on a tour soon,” the queen laughs lightly, brushing a stray curl from his forehead. She sucks in a sharp breath suddenly, her hand rubbing at her bump. 

“How is the little dragon?” Jacaerys asks, his warm hands moving to rest on his wife, wishing he could take her pain from her and bear it himself. 

“Kicking like a goat,” the Queen laughs feebly, leaning into her husband's embrace. “The maesters now believe it's a girl.” 

“So I’m to have another daughter to rain seven hells on my will?” He jests, his amber eyes gazing upon his beloved queen. 

“You speak as if you did not do the same to your mother, and she to her father, and so on,” the queen laughs. “It is the way of eldests and one day, she will have her own child who will refuse to marry and run off to ride on dragonback at the slightest inconvenience.” Jacaerys laughs, a true hearty laugh that is music to his wife’s ears. He shakes his head and pulls him into her, cupping her face as their lips intertwine, their worries momentarily forgotten.

[lukesvangelista]

𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐒𝐄, 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐈’𝐌 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐏𝐈𝐃 𝐈𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄

in which luke longs for the one person who understands him.

warnings; sad luke, crying luke, weddings, prom

part one here

part two here

Luke stood at the edge of the reception hall, watching the newlyweds glide across the dance floor. The bride, radiant in her white gown, laughed as Matt, Luke's cousin and her husband, spun her around, their joy infectious. The room was filled with the soft glow of fairy lights and the gentle hum of conversation, but Luke's mind was far away, lost in the memories of the relationship the two of you once shared. Jack and Quinn were talking beside him, reminiscing on the childhood memories the three of them shared with Matt, but Luke could've cared less. Instead, he zoned in on the couple with longing eyes, his face expressionless - that should've been him twirling you around on that dance floor.

It had been nine months since he and you had parted ways, but it felt like a lifetime. The two of you had met in high school, two awkward teenagers drawn together by a shared love of sports, music, and movies, and a mutual disdain for the superficiality of your guys' chemistry teacher. His first dance with you had been in your living room, the two of you clumsily stepping on each other’s toes to a scratchy vinyl record your father had given to you. The two of you shared so much laughter that day, the sound mingling with the music. Luke didn't think he was capable of laughing that much, but somehow, you had brought it out of him. In that moment, Luke had thought that your relationship would last forever.

As Matt and Amelie continued their dance, Luke remembered the night he had taken you to prom. You guys had spent weeks preparing. You agonized over your dress to the point where Ellen had offered to fix it up however you wanted to. She spent a week sewing this, and hemming that, but that dress couldn't have been more beautiful. It complimented you perfectly, the red satin fabric allowing your eyes to radiate. You laughed as Luke fumbled with the corsage during pictures. At the time, he didn't appreciate it, but now, he would give anything to hear your laugh again. When the two of you had finally arrived, the gym had been transformed into a magical wonderland, complete with twinkling lights and a live band. You guys had danced until your feet were sore, holding each other close as if the world outside didn’t exist.

Luke felt a lump in his throat form as he continued to watch the first dance. There was an empty seat beside him, designated for another one of his cousin's who couldn't make it, but Luke couldn't help but feel like it was for you. It was just another reminder that you weren't with him, but you should've been. All he wanted was to look away, but it's like he was frozen. It felt like a god damn punishment. And then, as if things couldn't get any worse, he realized what song they were dancing to - 'Like Real People Do'.

No, no, no. This was your guys' song.

Tears sprang into Luke's hazel eyes immediately, and he jumped up from his seat to excuse himself. Quinn and Jack looked at their little brother like he was crazy, but Luke muttered some half-ass excuse about having to use the bathroom before walking out of the reception hall and outside the building.

As soon as he was outside, Luke tightly gripped the red brick of the building. He felt that if he didn't, he would've collapsed right then and there. He tried to take some deep breaths to calm himself down, but it felt as though nothing was working. So, he whipped out his phone and opened his contacts.

As he hovered over your contact, Luke tried to convince himself that it was because he wasn't in a clear state of mind. Maybe he could even blame it on the drinks that Jack had snuck over to him earlier in the evening. But deep down, Luke knew that wasn't true. He missed you, and maybe, just maybe, his longing for you would decrease if he heard your voice again. The night was quiet, which only seemed to amplify his thoughts. He missed you - every laugh, every conversation, every moment the two of you had shared. He missed you more than he could bear.

But the longer his fingers hovered over your contact, the more hesitant he became. The two of you had broken up nine months ago. The last time he had seen you was the night (or morning, he didn't even know) you showed up to his apartment, where he was sleeping with another girl and practically yelled at you for coming to see him. And it was the night that you needed him most. You were missing your dad and needed comfort. That was it. He had royally fucked up.

Was this a good idea? Would you even want to hear from him?

Doubts crowded Luke's mind, but the ache in his heart overpowered him. He took a deep breath and pressed call.

The phone rang once, twice, three times. Four times, five times, six times.

Luke was about to hang up when the dial tone went away. Static ensued and then he heard exactly what he wanted to hear.

"Hello?" Your voice was soft, cautious.

Luke let out a whimper, a tear falling from his eye, "Y/N/N, hi. It's Luke."

There was a pause, then, "Luke. Hi. It's been awhile."

"Yeah, it has. I-" he struggled to find the right words, "I know it's sudden, but I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you, Y/N."

The line was silent for a moment, and Luke feared that you might've hung up. But then you spoke, your voice trembling slightly, "Why'd you call, Luke?"

He let a sob ring from his lips, his tone heavy, "Matt got married today, and him and Amelie just looked so happy. And I looked at them and it was like I couldn't even see them, I just saw us," another sob rang out, "I just... whenever I looked at you, Y/N, I saw my future. I would've married you if I had the chance." he admitted.

The line went silent again, this time for even longer than the last. Boy, did that scare Luke. Had he said too much too soon? He wouldn't be surprised if he did - his brothers had always told him that that was his fatal flaw. Thirty seconds had passed before he spoke up again, pure desperation evident in his voice, "Y/N/N?"

He heard you sniffle over the line. A few more seconds of silence followed before you spoke, your voice trembling a little more than before, "I... I miss you too, Luke. I think about you a lot."

Relief washed over him, but it was quickly followed by regret, "I messed up, Y/N. Remember that night when you called me an asshole? It's all I've thought about since that night. You needed me and I kicked you out and..." Luke had to pause as he felt his chest tighten. His breaths were ragged and it felt as though he couldn't catch his breath.

"Luke? Luke, are you okay?" you asked him, concern evident in your tone.

Luke was able to compose himself just enough to keep talking as he heard your voice, "I was an asshole. I can't believe it's taken me seven months to admit it, but I was the asshole, and I am so fucking sorry, Y/N."

You took a shallow breath on the other end of the phone, your own eyes welling with tears.

Luke continued, "Listen, I don't know if we can ever go back to what we had, but I just needed you to know how much I miss you."

You sighed softly, tears of your own now slipping from your eyes, "That was hard for me, Luke. It hurt. But hearing you say that means a lot. And I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I didn't fuck up, too. We both made mistakes, and here we are." you faked a laugh.

Without thinking, Luke whispered through the phone, "Can we meet?" There was a lace of hope in his words as he spoke. Maybe it was a little bit of a facade, just to trick him into thinking he had more of a chance than he actually did, "Just to talk. Maybe start over, even if it's just as friends."

There was a long pause, and if it was as if Luke could almost hear you weighing the decision through the phone. It felt like hours had passed before you spoke again, your voice gentle, "Luke... it's not that simple. I miss you - more than you know - but I think that we both need to heal and move forward, even if it's hard."

"Y/N?"

"Yes, Luke?"

"It's pathetic really, how much I still hope it's you and me in the end."

"Take care of yourself, Luke," you said, "Goodnight."

Luke wiped the tears from his cheeks, feeling the weight of your words. As you hung up, though, he felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. He knew you were right - you both needed to move on, to heal. But at least for tonight, he had the comfort of hearing your voice, a small connection to the woman he had loved and lost.

[aphroditelovesu]

Hey, i'm also from brazil and i love the way you write! Taking advantage of the fact that I saw you talking about yandere apollo pjo, could you do some headcanons about what he would be like due to the differences? like, in today's world. Would he look at your phone or something?

❝ ☀️ — lady l: it's a headcanon, in a way, but also an imagine, a combo of both! I ended up geting excited and focusing more on the platonic part and I hope everything it's! I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes!

❝tw: obsessive and overprotective behavior and fluffy.

❝☀️pairing: yandere pjo!apollo x gender neutral!reader.

❝word count: 742.

Apollo is the god of poetry and will always be writing the most beautiful poems for you. All of his hymns will be dedicated to you and any pop influence he will use as inspiration to worship you. Apollo dedicates each verse to you, each word carefully thought out in the overwhelming love that the god feels, transforming pop influences into hymns of worship.

In the intervals between his divine exploits, Apollo is captured by the passion of modern melodies. Transforming pop influences into passionate songs, his lyres resonate in heavenly places, echoing the immortal feelings he has for his earthly muse.

Apollo as a divine father is smothering and protective. He doesn't give a damn about the rules that govern the gods, not when it comes to his favorite child. He will distribute gifts, presents and will help and support them in everything he can. Apollo will always make it clear that they are his greatest pride.

As you face challenges and monsters, Apollo protects you, interfering in divine destinies when necessary. The sun god becomes a constant presence, guiding and encouraging his favorite child to embrace its heroic nature. Apollo, the divine father, defies heavenly rules in the name of love for his child, doling out divine gifts and guiding them along the path to greatness.

One day, while you were facing a particularly difficult challenge, Apollo decided to intervene in a more direct way. He descended from Olympus, enveloped in golden light, and appeared at your side. His presence was warm and comforting, like the rays of the sun emanating from his divine form.

"My dear child," Apollo said with a beaming smile. "The time has come for me to join you on this journey. Together, we will face the challenges that present themselves, and I will guide you with my divine light."

Apollo watched with beaming pride as his child flourished under divine tutelage. He guided the mortal steps with the light of knowledge, shaping the favorite's destiny as a sculptor carves a masterpiece. Each of his child's deeds was a glorious echo of the pride Apollo felt, reflected in the rays of sunlight that illuminated his celestial face.

Apolo is very connected to modern technology, oddly enough. He would have a cell phone, the best and most expensive, and it would be full of photos of you. His music playlist would have all genres, an eclectic god, after all, he is also the god of music and appreciates all types, honoring his essence as the god of music.

He wouldn't touch your cell phone unless you allowed it or if he had some kind of suspicion. In this case, you can be sure that the god will search your cell phone in search of something. And he will definitely take selfies of himself to leave for you.

During moments of rest, Apollo shared divine stories and ancestral teachings with you. His words were like ethereal songs, dancing in the air and penetrating your heart. Each narrative was filled with wisdom and profound lessons, like the notes of an eternal melody.

On a starry night, after an especially epic victory over a colossal beast, Apollo gathered the gods and goddesses for a divine celebration on Olympus. Heavenly music filled the halls as everyone rejoiced in their achievements and the union between the divine and the mortal.

At the height of the party, Apollo raised his golden lyre and began to sing a song that transcended the limits of Olympus. His melodious voice resonated, telling the saga of his favorite child, full of courage, triumph and divine love. The song inspired tears of joy in the eyes of the gods and goddesses, witnessing the success of his protégé.

At the end of the performance, Apollo looked at you with pride in his eyes. "My child, you are a masterpiece that surpasses any divine song. Your heart is a melody that enchants the gods and transforms Olympus into a more radiant place. May your journey continue to shine like the stars that adorn the night sky."

Since that day, the bond between you and Apollo has only grown stronger. The god's blessings continued to guide you, while the teachings shared under the stars became a beacon of wisdom on his journey. And so, under the protection and love of Apollo, the heroic epic unfolded, marking destiny with the eternal light of the god of music and poetry.

[ms-snape]

Yule Ball (Young!Remus lupin x reader)

request: not really a request acutally, just something i wrote at litteramly 3am

Summary: Remus Lupin asked Y/N to the Yule Ball with the help of his friends, but his night took a sour turn when he turned to alcohol to mask his nerves, leading to a misunderstanding with Y/N.

Warning: Alcohol, a bit of angst, happy ending, marauders era

Word Count: 1390

Masterlist

---

Hogwarts Castle was alive with anticipation as the Yule Ball approached. Snowflakes danced outside the tall, arched windows, blanketing the grounds in pristine white. Inside, students buzzed with excitement, discussing dresses, dates, and the music that would soon fill the Great Hall. Remus Lupin, however, found himself lost in thought, his gaze drifting to a girl across the room.

“Oi, Moony!” Sirius’s voice broke through his reverie. “Stop daydreaming and join us! We’ve got a plan!”

Remus blinked, pulled from his thoughts of Y/N—the girl who had captivated his attention for months. He turned to see Sirius, James, and Peter huddled together, their faces alight with mischief. “What plan?” he asked hesitantly, a knot of anxiety tightening in his stomach.

“Simple! You need to ask her to the Ball!” James exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. “We’ll help you out.”

Remus’s heart raced at the thought. “What if she says no?” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

“Don’t be a prat,” Sirius chided, slapping him on the back. “You won’t know until you try. Besides, you’ve got us.”

With a deep breath, Remus nodded. “Alright. I’ll do it.”

“Good! We’ll be right here, cheering you on,” Peter piped up, a nervous grin spreading across his face.

The four of them made their way to the common room, where Y/N sat, her laughter ringing out as she chatted with her friends. Remus’s palms grew sweaty, and his heart pounded in his chest.

“Just go for it!” James whispered, nudging him forward.

With a final nod of encouragement from his friends, Remus approached Y/N, trying to ignore the fluttering in his stomach. “Um, hey, Y/N?”

She looked up, her smile brightening the dimly lit room. “Hey, Remus! What’s up?”

“Would you, um, would you like to go to the Yule Ball with me?” he blurted, his cheeks flushing.

For a moment, time seemed to stretch. Y/N’s eyes widened, and then she broke into a grin. “I’d love to!”

Relief washed over him, followed by a wave of excitement. “Great! I mean, awesome!”

As the evening of the Ball approached, Remus’s excitement began to wane, replaced by nerves. His friends had concocted a plan to help him “relax” before the big night.

“Just one drink, Moony,” Sirius insisted, pouring a golden liquid into a glass. “It’ll loosen you up. You can’t go in all shy and awkward.”

“Yeah, it’s just a little fun,” Peter added, his eyes hopeful.

Remus hesitated, glancing at the glass. “I don’t know, guys. I’m not sure…”

“Just trust us. We want you to have a good time,” James urged, nudging the glass closer.

With a resigned sigh, Remus took the glass and downed it in one gulp. The warmth spread through him, igniting an unexpected confidence. “Okay, maybe just one more.”

Hours later, the Great Hall was transformed into a winter wonderland, sparkling with twinkling lights and shimmering decorations. Remus entered with his friends, feeling a bit unsteady but exhilarated. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on Y/N, who looked breathtaking in a deep blue gown that flowed around her like liquid silk.

“Hey, Y/N!” he called out, striding over with an exaggerated swagger that felt foreign to him.

“Remus!” she greeted, her face lighting up. “You look… different.”

“Different good, I hope?” he shot back, grinning widely.

“Definitely,” she laughed, though her eyes narrowed slightly, as if sensing something was off.

The music began to play, and Remus took her hand, leading her to the dance floor. As they began to sway together, he felt a rush of energy coursing through him, emboldened by the alcohol. He spun her around, his laughter echoing around them.

“Wow, you’re really getting into it,” Y/N said, her smile bright but her expression shifting to confusion.

“Yeah, just letting loose!” he said with a wink, channeling his inner Sirius.

But as the night wore on, Remus’s bravado started to falter. He could feel Y/N’s energy diminish, her laughter softening, as if she were withdrawing.

“Remus…” she began, her brow furrowing slightly. “Are you alright? You seem a bit… off.”

“I’m great!” he exclaimed, perhaps a little too loudly. “Just having a blast!”

She raised an eyebrow, her expression shifting from amusement to concern. “Are you sure? You smell like—”

“Like what?” he interrupted, laughing too hard to be convincing.

“Like alcohol,” she finished, her tone now serious.

His laughter faded, replaced by a creeping sense of dread. “Oh, uh… maybe just a bit?” He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to regain his composure.

Y/N’s smile faltered, and in that moment, Remus saw the truth in her eyes: she was disappointed. “You didn’t drink to get through the night, did you?”

“No! I mean, yes, but…” He struggled for words, the reality of the situation crashing down on him. “I just wanted to enjoy the night, Y/N. I thought it’d help.”

Her expression hardened, and she took a step back. “I thought you wanted to be here with me, not as someone else.”

Remus felt a pang of regret, realizing how his friends’ well-meaning intentions had backfired. “I do want to be here with you! I just… I didn’t want to mess up.”

“Then why not just be yourself?” she asked, her voice softening but still laced with disappointment.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his heart racing. “I thought if I was more confident—”

“More like Sirius?” she interjected, crossing her arms. “That’s not you, Remus.”

He opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. She was right; he’d let the alcohol transform him into someone he wasn’t. “Can we just—”

“I think I need to go,” she interrupted, her voice steady yet strained.

“Y/N, wait—” he called after her, but she was already weaving through the crowd, her figure disappearing into the throng of students.

Frustration bubbled inside him as he turned to find his friends, who were still reveling in the dance. “What were you thinking?” he shouted, his voice rising above the music.

“Hey, Moony! You were fantastic!” Sirius cheered, oblivious to the storm brewing in his friend’s heart.

“Fantastic? I just ruined everything!” Remus snapped, his fists clenching at his sides. “She thinks I used alcohol to get through the night!”

“Wait, you did?” James asked, genuine confusion in his eyes. “I thought you were just having fun.”

“Fun? I was trying to impress her, not be a drunken fool!” Remus shot back, pushing through the crowd toward the exit.

“Moony, wait! We were just trying to help!” Peter called after him, but Remus didn’t stop. He stormed back to the Gryffindor common room, his emotions swirling like the snow outside.

Inside the cozy space, he paced, anger and regret twisting in his gut. How could he have let himself be swayed by his friends? The night he had looked forward to for weeks had turned into a disaster.

The door creaked open, and a moment later, Y/N stepped inside, her eyes searching the room. Relief and dread washed over him simultaneously.

“Y/N…” he began, but she held up a hand to stop him.

“I just wanted to say… I’m sorry for leaving like that. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—” She took a breath, her voice steadying. “I wanted to enjoy the night with you, not this… version of you.”

“I know,” he admitted, feeling the weight of her disappointment. “I messed up. I thought maybe if I was more confident, I could be someone you’d like.”

Y/N stepped closer, her expression softening. “I like you, Remus. But I like the real you, not this… flirty facade.”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his voice earnest. “I promise, I’ll be myself next time.”

She smiled, the tension in her shoulders easing. “Next time?”

“Definitely. If you’ll still have me,” he said, hope creeping into his voice.

“Of course,” she said, her smile widening. “But just be you, alright?”

“Deal,” he replied, relief flooding through him.

As they stood together in the warm glow of the common room, Remus felt the connection between them grow stronger. The Yule Ball hadn’t gone as planned, but it had led him to something better: a chance to truly be himself with her.

Outside, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in silence, as if in agreement with the promise of a new beginning.

[too-much-tma-stuff]

Will You Take Care of Her (Part 8)

Previous | Masterpost

TW: descriptions of violence

Danny ran to the tube and before Jason could say anything Danny had punched it, shattering the glass and badly cutting his hand, not that he seemed to notice. Alarms started to blare as Danny dragged the girl out and onto the floor, Jason slammed the door shut before people could rush towards them, jamming it closed. Leaning against the door to make sure it stayed closed as he watched Danny with ‘Ellie’. He didn’t know what was happening, but he knew they needed to save this girl and Danny would need time to do that so Jason could buy some time.  

“No nonono,” Danny murmured as the girl started to melt, her fingers and feet starting to collapse into some sort of green goo. “Don’t you dare destabilize on me, we’re the only ones left,” Danny nearly snarled, changing back into his ghost form. The transformation was quicker this time and as soon as it was done he lay her down on the floor, pressing his hands against her chest.

It looked like he was about to start doing chest compressions but instead he sent a wave of some sort of crackling green energy through her body. She arched slightly but didn’t otherwise respond, Danny snarled louder and did it again. 

Jason could hear the pounding of feet behind the door as people rushed down to find out what was going on. There was yelling as they tried the door and it wouldn’t open. Jason set his back more firmly against the barrier. Danny hadn’t even noticed the noise yet, too focussed on saving the girl.

“Come on, come onnn,” Danny muttered as he sent a third shock through her and then she gasped and coughed, white rings of light flashed over her body and her hair turned stark white, her clothes turning into some black and white outfit with a P on the chest, and her fingers reformed. She hadn’t opened her eyes but she was alive and Danny looked like he was ready to cry with relief. 

When he looked up his eyes were glowing green in swirling patterns that drew you in and refused to let go. You could see the angry and unnatural flames dancing behind his eyes. “Jason, come take her and then stay out of my way. I’ll clear the path, get her out as soon as you can. I’m bringing this entire place down,” Danny growled, his voice reverberating and echoing. 

Jason nodded and dived away from the door and past Danny, scooping Ellie up as Danny stood up, his hands morphing into long, curved claws not unlike his usual choice of weapon. They glowed with bright green energy that bubbled and warbled unsteadily, nothing like the Timerean’s other than the colour. When the agents managed to force open the door Danny shot immediately, the power ripping through the person right behind the door who went down immediately, gurgling on their own blood as Danny flew forward hot on the heels of his first blast. He roundhouse kicked the next asshole in white into the wall and Jason heard the crunching of stone and bone and he was sure that one was dead as well.

He had never seen Danny fight like this, he never used his powers and Jason could see why as Danny absolutely tore through the bodies blocking the hall outside. There was already blood splattered over the bone white of Danny’s mask, and he didn’t seem inclined to stop.  Up until now Jason had wondered why only he seemed to have episodes of blinding green rage, but it turned out it just took Danny more to get to this point. It was impressive, it was horrifying and bloody, and Jason was mostly disappointed that he wasn’t going to get any kills of his own after seeing what these people had done. But Danny deserved this vengeance and catharsis more. 

Jason followed behind Danny with his gun drawn and Ellie held close to his chest, watching his footing on the blood slick ground. He couldn’t fall behind now, Danny’s blows were shaking the foundations of the building and they needed to get out as quickly as possible. As angry and out of it as Danny was Jason couldn’t be sure he wouldn’t accidentally hurt them while trying to protect them. 

Danny was living up to the name Hyena as the skull that Jason had been sure was a mask opened and powerful bone jaws ripped an agent’s throat out leaving the canines dripping with fresh blood. Hyena shot through the nearest goon opening a bloody hole through their chest. Someone tried to shoot him and Danny snarled as the impact threw his shoulder back and tore a hole through his flesh dripping with a thick green substance. The hole quickly reformed, the same couldn’t be said for the goon when Hyena threw them to the floor and crushed their skull.

Jason got the chance to finish off a few who were still alive on the ground after Danny passed and as soon as he got a clear line to the door he made a break for it, sprinting out with Ellie. Danny was on his heels, defending their back until they were out, or just indulging in as much bloodshed as he could. Jason skidded to a halt a few meters back when he realized Hyena wasn’t behind them and turned just in time to see Danny take off his mask. He opened his mouth, his jaw unhinging as energy gathered on his tongue before a Sound split the night. A shrieking wail that vibrated the very air, and Jason barely managed to not drop Ellie to cover his ears as the concussive blast cracked the walls of the base. 

Jason’s ears were ringing too much to hear the screams he was sure were there as the part of the facility that was above ground collapsed in on itself. Danny’s scream took out… he had no idea how much forest behind the lab as well, well he could see what Danny had been talking about with collateral damage before. Jason shook his head and pulled the detonator out of his pocket, pressing the button, listening to the muffled sounds as, below the ground, the bombs took out whatever was left of the base. The fire from the bombs spread quickly and soon the burning fascility lit the night as Jason and Danny stood in front of it, panting and, in Danny’s case, crying. 

“Red Hood, what happened?” Tim- What the fuck Tim!? When did Tim get here?! Asked. 

Jason glanced around and saw that the entire Teen Titans were there, well, except Impulse who Jason suspected was trying to find non-existent survivors. The best Jason could do was give Robin a helpless little shrug before looking back at Danny. 

“Hyena?” He asked softly, snapping Danny out of his daze he turned towards them. 

He approached and went to rest a hand on the girl's hair before hesitating, noticing his hands were covered in blood. He let out a bitten off whimper and tried to wipe it off on his suit as much as he could before he touched her, stroking her wet hair back from her face. “Oh my Little Star, I’m so sorry,” Danny murmured to her.

“Thank you,” He told Jason softly before taking the girl from his arms, holding her close as he glanced around, spotting their audience. “Robin,” He sighed, some tension releasing from his shoulders which wasn’t really the reaction Jason was expecting. He approached them slowly, changing back into his human form as he went, and thank god Tim had already had dinner with them a few times so he didn’t jump to attacking them. Jason wouldn’t have blamed him, this did not look good, and Danny was covered in blood.

“You,” Hyena said, his gaze drifting to Superboy. “You’re Superboy, you’re the clone right?” He asked, and Superboy glanced at Robin before nodding warily. “She is too,” Danny sighed looking down at her. “Back when I was still a hero my nemesis made her, she’s… my daughter, in every way that matters, my flesh and blood but I… the way I am now I can’t take care of her. I never could really, since I was still just 15 when she was made,” He said with a self deprecating little laugh. “I managed to stabilize her but I can’t keep her.” 

He looked up at them, tear tracks carving their way through the blood on his face. “She goes by Phantasm when in costume. Will you take her? She’s… she’s a good kid, she needs someone better than me. Your team, or if she needs an adult she’d do well with Wonder Woman of Martian Manhunter.” 

Superboy had a determined set to his jaw as he nodded and held out his arms, letting Hyena pass Phantasm over to him. “Thank you,” Hyena sighed, tired and sad. “Tell her her template loves her, and tell her where to find me and she’s welcome to visit. Just warn her what I am now, I was very different when she knew me.” 

“What happened here?” Tim asked again. 

“Remember I mentioned being experimented on by mad scientists?” Danny asked wryly, Tim nodded and Danny simply gestured back at the facility. “I didn’t realize they still had her or I would have burned the place to the ground a long time ago. Here,” He said, fishing a USB out of his pocket and holding it out to Tim. “This has info on the organization, I meant to give it to you eventually anyway.” 

Tim took it and Danny slumped back, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Come visit me soon, and tell me how she’s doing if she doesn’t want to see me. Please? I… really care about her.” 

“Right, okay,” Tim agreed awkwardly. Danny nodded and then turned, walking back over to Jason who lifted his arms, letting Danny walk into them. 

He held Danny close to him and felt a cool wash of invisibility fall over both of them as Danny transformed again and wrapped his arms around Jason’s waist before taking off again. He flew them back to where Jason had left his bike in silence. Once they landed and Danny had transformed again, every time he did it seemed quicker and smoother. Jason drove them home, not caring about the blood that soaked into his back from Danny’s clothes. It wasn’t exactly the first time he’d been covered in blood. 

“You didn’t tell me you had a clone,” He said softly into their shared com when they were about half way home. He’d wanted to wait till Danny was ready to talk about it, especially after such an emotional experience, but he needed to know. 

“I thought she was dead like the rest of my family,” Danny murmured back, pressing his forehead against Jason’s shoulder. “I saw her destabilize myself. I didn’t know they had any way to keep her alive. And I don’t like to talk about the people I’ve lost, it hurts too much, and they’ll still be gone either way.”

“I get that, but we have to talk about it soon now, you know that right?” Jason asked, and felt Danny nod against his shoulder.

“Yes, I know. Tomorrow okay? I’m so tired, and I need a shower.” 

“Ya, we’ll both feel better after a shower and some sleep,” Jason agreed as they arrived back in Crime Alley and headed for the nearest safe house with good water pressure and a bed.

-------

Danny took a while to go to sleep, once they were both clean and in bed he broke down. Jason didn’t know how long he held Danny while he cried softly against his chest, but he didn’t mind, Danny needed it. Finally they both fell asleep, though Jason knew he slept better than Danny.

In the morning Jason woke up before Danny and carefully slid out of bed, dressing and going to pick up breakfast and coffee for them. This wasn’t their main safehouse and didn’t have many groceries or he would have made them breakfast himself. Danny was just starting to stir when he returned with breakfast sandwiches, Danny’s Deathwish coffee, and a normal one for himself.

“Hey Moonlight,” Jason murmured to Danny, putting the food down on the bedside table and leaning down to kiss Danny awake properly. “I brought breakfast,” He said, waiting for Danny to sit himself up groggily before pressing the cup of coffee into his hands. 

“Thank you Boo, you’re so good to me,” Danny sighed as he accepted the coffee with his eyes still half closed. Jason hummed and leaned against Danny’s shoulder as he drank his own coffee and ate his sandwich. Watching as Danny drank about half of his coffee before reaching for the sandwich, by the time he’d finished he looked a little more alive. 

“How are you feeling?” Jason asked softly once they were both finished, bunching up the empty packaging and shoving it back in the bag.

“I’m alright, I’ll be able to talk today, but I’d like to go back to our nest first? I feel safer there,” Danny admitted, giving Jason completely unnecessary puppy-dog eyes, Jason would never have said no. He knew Danny was happiest there, in the nice apartment near the center of their territory, Danny’s haunt, that they had decorated and really made Home.

“Oh course. You get dressed while I throw out the trash and then we can head home,” Jason agreed and Danny nodded. They both slid out of bed and did their assigned tasks before Jason drove them both home. It wasn’t that far, but covered in blood and exhausted as they were last night Jason had wanted to drive through as little of Crime Alley as possible. 

Once they were home Danny collapsed on their couch with a slight groan and Jason went to make them both a cup of tea. He brought them back to the livingroom and put the cups down on the coffee table before nudging Danny to lift his head so Jason could sit down and Danny could rest his head back in Jason’s lap. He combed his fingers through Danny’s hair gently, and waited quietly for Danny to organize his thoughts. 

“I got my powers when I was 14, after I died. It took me a couple months to figure out how to control them, but once I did I went into being a hero pretty much immediately, I called myself Phantom. The same portal that killed me let a bunch of really powerful ghosts through into our world and they started picking fights with me and causing damage, so I protected my town. Even though most of the town seemed to think I was evil too and all ghosts were bad. 

“I had my two best friends, Sam and Tucker, helping me, and then later my big sister Jazz when she found out what I was doing. My parents were incredibly prejudiced against ghost, the GIW got most of their information and weapons from them if that gives you an idea, so we never told them. 

“Then I found out I wasn’t the first like me. When my parents were in college they built a prototype portal and it opened on top of their college best friend Vlad. He wasn’t a true halfa like me, more like a human with ghost powers, maybe 70/30 at best but he got obsessed with me, he’d already been obsessed with my mother so my mother’s son with his powers… He tried to kidnap me, he wanted me to renounce my dad and go live with him, be his perfect son or whatever. When he realized I never would, he started trying to clone me. 

“Enter Ellie, the only halfway stable clone, because ghosts are basically impossible to clone. He sent her to me to gain my trust and betray me. She said she was my cousin at first, and I accepted her right away, before she shot me in the back so Vlad could kidnap me again. He said the only way to stabilize her was… I don’t remember exactly what he said, but whatever it was I basically let him torture me to try and stabalize her. And then once he’d gotten what he wanted he admitted he’d never been planning to save her, he was going to let her and all the other clones die once he had what he needed for a ‘perfect clone’.

“Ellie freed me and we fought him together after that. I knew she was my.. At least my little sister, if not my daughter, I would have tried to care for her, even though I was a kid and my parents were threats to both of us, but she’d been trapped in Vlad’s lab for all her short life. She wanted to be free and to travel, so I let her go and helped her where I could, and when she asked. 

“When my parents eventually found out about me and they… didn’t react well, they denied I was their son and captured me. They would have experimented on me themselves if the GIW hadn’t found out they had me and demanded they ‘hand over the specimen,” Danny paused with a bitter laugh and picked up the cup of tea. “Of course my big sister and my friends were home then too, trying to convince my parents they needed to let me go when the GIW decided the quickest way to get their hands on me would be to just… bomb the house. Of course they were… I didn’t die, but all the humans did.

“While I was still in shock they nabbed me. Vlad and Ellie actually teamed up to try and save me, but they were captured too, and there was no one else to come for us. I thought they’d both been killed during the experimentation as well. I’m sure Vlad was since I saw his body, but I guess they managed to pause Ellie’s destabilization and, you were there when we found her, and saw me restabilize her.” Danny finished and took another sip of his tea.

Jason drank as well, as he processed what was no doubt a very summarized version of a very fucked up string of events skimming over a lot of gory details. “Any other bits of your past that might pop up to cause us trouble?” Jason asked dryly and Danny winced.

“Well, my ex-rogues might, especially now that Em has seen me and knows I’m still around. If they do, I'll deal with it quickly. I was always gentle with them before when I was a hero, now I’d really show them why they shouldn’t mess with me,” Danny said, bearing his teeth in a brief snarl. “Other than that… there’s Dan. He’s an evil future version of me from an alternate future where he destroyed the world, that reality doesn’t exist anymore but thanks to time fuckery he still exists in this reality. I defeated and imprisoned him, but I lost track of the thermos he was trapped in after the explosion. It’s unlikely anyone will release him, but it is possible.”

“Why are heroes' lives always so complicated?” Jason asked rhetorically, rubbing his face with one hand with a soft groan. “Well, now I know so I can be prepared for any of this shit huh?”

“Ya,” Danny agreed sheepishly. “I’m really sorry Jason, you didn’t know how much drama and baggage I came with when we first got together… If you-”

“No, I see where you’re going with that and No. I love you, and it’s not like I have any less baggage, and if anything my baggage hurts you way worse than yours hurts me. I’m not leaving unless you want me to,” Jason said firmly, feeling Danny relax back against his lap.

“And I absolutely do not want you to,” Danny confirmed with a smile. “I love you too.”

“Good. And… I want you to know I’m really proud of you Danny. For facing your trauma last night, and for telling me about what happened to you. You’ve been handling all of this really well, better than I have really. I admire you a lot Cub, you’re too good for me really, but that just makes me want to be better so I can be worthy of you,” Jason said softly, unable to quite make eye contact with his boyfriend, embarrassed by his own emotional vulnerability.

Danny pushed himself up on one elbow and pulled Jason down by the back of his neck to kiss him sweetly. “That means so much Jason, and I feel the same way. The good you do, the way you channel your pain, it inspires me too. In the future where my family was killed and I ended up staying with Vlad instead of you, I destroyed the entire world. I didn’t even conquer it, I just killed… everyone. You keep me grounded, you remind me there is such a thing as an innocent human, and letting you command and channel my violence has kept me sane,” Danny murmured as he curled against Jason’s chest. 

“I guess there’s a reason why ‘you make me better’ is such a relationship cliche huh?” Jason chuckled and Danny laughed before they settled into a comfortable silence as they finished their tea. “Do you think Ellie will like me?”

[bunny-1111]

Slytherin party, *Theo's gf edition*

...

green lights transform the smaller half of the common room

the tables used in the afternoon for books and studying are now flooded with spilt drinks, open bottles, empty cups, half rolled j's and burnt-out cigarettes

body heat suffocated the room regardless of the season

if there's one thing the schools' snakes knew how to do, it was party

hard, every fkn weekend

there were hushed whispers between other houses, most trying to desperately receive an extended invitation

by the time the night had slithered into the earliest hours of the morning, music would shake the walls surrounding, spells enchanting the volume so the teachers wouldn't hear

the glass over the black lake would shake so hard you were certain if magic wasn't protecting its structure, it would shatter

double shots with Pansy, followed by biting into a lime

Theodore pulling you onto the dance floor by your hips, dancing on him, your arm gripping his hair, his hands draped over your lower body

Matteo and Lorenzo frantically running around, booze in hand, laughing as loud as the music

Draco, standing on the table, watching the night play out

Blaise rolling a blunt, Pansy lazily sitting on his lap

while you continue to dance, Theo snatches a bottle out off Enzo, hand on your neck, pouring the cold liquor down your throat

stumbling through broken glass that painted the floors, kicking away empty cups to clear your path

the decorations that were once on clean mantels were now scattered, half missing, half broken

statues that adorned the room now dressed with school scarfs and someones lost pair of glasses

cigarettes lit with a borrowed lighter, smoke melting into your lungs

head pounding, night ending, stumbling to the dorms, some passed out in the hallway, some still partying hard till the early morning

Theodore navigates you back to his dorm, a firm hand on the lower of your back as the two of you retire for the night

waking up with a hangover, tripping over your own feet, quickly getting dressed, haistly waking up Theo, attempting to get to the great hall for breakfast

gulping coffee down just as you had down alcohol last night, the thought of it almost nauseating

running to class on time to not have professors suspect the events that ended just a frightful hours ago

Theo smirking at you throughout the class, his eyes saying, 'dont forget how good our bedroom afterparty was.'

[kentopedia]

it's been decades since you've last seen dazai; your lover & your maker. now that you're finally happy, he's haunting you again with a thousand buried memories.

overall contents. fem!reader, nsfw minors dni, exes to lover, gothic romance, blood drinking, vampire!reader, vampire!dazai, smut, cheating reader, complicated relationships, blood, gore, jealousy, manipulation, religious symbolism, betrayal, reunions — 5.3k words

PART V ♰ MASTERLIST

Human blood, when it came straight from the source, a punctured vein made up of a scarlet river, held a divine power. There was a warmth that you could only receive from drinking it, not from the animals you captured in the woods, or those that you bled dry into a goblet. 

Only then, would your icy skin be transformed into something akin to heated marble, so smooth, made up of something that had outlasted any other creature roaming the earth. 

That sort of euphoria was a feeling that fifty years had served you well in forgetting. You’d learned not to miss it. 

Until you got it back. The taste of human blood, once it had stained your lips after decades, had become the only thing on your mind. 

For two days, the blood of the woman, whom Dazai had lured to his hotel room for you, kept your hunger down. Your body had grown warm once more, skin as normal as any mortal’s. It made you feel as if you had regained life itself, the ecstasy seeping back into you like the sunbeams you’d never reach again. 

You’d pranced around your home joyfully, dancing through the halls the night before. Although it was dangerous, it was freeing, to lose yourself to the bloodlust like that. Just a taste of what your life had been, was enough to twist your mind, have you reminiscing on the vampire you’d once been. 

“You seem different,” Atsushi had said, the previous day. There had been such pleasure in his irises and the lines creasing his face, at seeing you so cheerful. Those signs of happiness in him were ones that you’d vowed never to take away, for doing so would deem you the vilest creature of them all. “Has something happened that I’m not aware of?” 

You’d laughed, let him rest in the crook of your elbow as you leaned him over your forearm, dipping him gracefully with your otherworldly strength. “I’m just glad you’re home, Atsushi,” you’d said, before twirling him around, guiding him in a dance around the room. 

It was all you could say, really. You couldn’t admit that your true gaiety came from the blood of a young woman, and your health had been restored by drinking the sweet nectar from her heart. 

Something you should’ve been doing all along. 

Then, when those two days passed, and the desperation that came with hunger returned, your mood soured. Atsushi pretended he hadn’t noticed, skirting around you with sideways glances and softened smiles. Encouragement — even if he wasn’t sure what had turned your radiance into a shade of blue. 

Life settled back into a sense of normalcy. For your fiancee, at least, who had never had a clue that anything was amiss. You, on the other hand, grappled with the immense guilt, the truth of what you’d done slamming against you, every moment your thoughts strayed. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

Dazai. 

The only name on your mind. Ever. Dreadfully lurking at the lines of your subconscious, even as you smiled at the one who loved you purely. Dazai’s charming grin snuck behind your eyelids as you kissed the man you were to be wed to, his name souring your tongue when you tasted Atsushi’s own. 

His voice, a melody bestowed upon you by nothing else but the devil, for a merciful god could never have created something so tempting, so horribly unholy. Those dark eyes, darker still when you punctured his throat, letting the crimson liquid flow into your mouth, staining your lips. 

And his blood… 

You growled, digging your nails into the piano that you’d failed to play at all. A screeching sound erupted as your fingers slid down the cover, deep scratches marring the wood. 

This was all his fault. If he’d never come back, then things could’ve carried on as they always had. You wouldn’t crave the taste of human blood once again, of Dazai’s blood, of his mouth, of him. 

“Get out,” you shouted, throwing the piano bench away from the instrument, the wood splintering under your strength. “Get out.” The antique vase shattered against the wall, the priceless item suddenly a million, tiny pieces. “Get out of my head.” 

Frustrated crept its way up your chest, a less than welcome old friend. 

Yet, that blend of rage and anguish was not an antidote to the way that Dazai Osamu had poisoned your mind, and you fell to your knees, sobbing hot streaks of blood into your hands. 

He’d made a cheater out of you, once again. A cheater, a killer, and a monster. And even after all that, you yearned for him. Your chest ached for the trace of his fingertips along your jawline, for those eyes to soften, only upon you. For the smile that he’d always given you, even in your darkest moments, as you laid upon him, coated in the gore of another.

Dazai was a cruel man, but he’d loved you through it all. 

And if what he said was true, he’d never meant to leave you. 

You swallowed, willing your tears away as you stared at the ceiling, dragging those regrettable emotions deep, burying them under the years of turmoil he’d put you through. All the times he’d snuck away, never telling you where he’d gone, promising he’d change and still playing the same games. 

Even then, the taste of his blood was too fresh on your mind, the tenderness of his hands still burned into your skin. 

Dazai, for all his cruelty, was right. Atsushi would never understand you the way he did. He’d never love you like that either. 

It had been a blessing, at first, that Atsushi was so vastly different from your immortal companion. Now, it had become the thorn lodged deep in your side, puncturing you through the middle. 

When the day came that you turned Atsushi, with a ring upon your finger and the promise of an immortal life, would you still long for Dazai? 

It seemed unfair to judge your vampire lover now, for all his misgivings, all the evil deeds he had committed, all the adultery, all the silence. The murder. You were the same, you and Dazai. Burned straight from the same pit, crafted by the hands of a demon, placed upon this earth for no reason but evil. 

How foolish you had been, to ever think you could be anything good. 

Three days later, when the rats were not enough, and the threat of biting Atsushi became too much to resist, you sought Dazai out. 

The realization of your buried feelings, towards him and yourself, would remain just that—hidden. You’d told Dazai you needed time, and you still did. Time to decide if you’d rather live with Atsushi, or step out into the sunlight, letting your body fall into flames before ashes. Both seemed more pleasurable than admitting that your once lover had seen straight through you. 

Truly anything was better than admitting that what you felt for Dazai was something, still, close to love. 

You’d spent the evening steeling yourself, staring awake in the darkened room as you rehearsed what you’d say to Dazai, after the last conversation you’d had. It had begun to occur to you, perhaps, that your problematic dalliance could be traced back to the mixed signals that you continued to send his way.

Yet, when you finally mustered up the courage to visit him, Dazai was not at the hotel. The room service had already cleared out the lodgings, stripped the room bare and sterilized it after his departure. 

Dazai was gone. He’d left just like you’d wanted him to, for weeks. 

So, why did your heart drop like a weight from your chest to your stomach, the agonizing twist of abandonment tearing through your immortal soul?

Briefly, you stared at the empty room, blinking at the laundress who spread fresh linens across the mattress. She seemed to be startled by the fury and misery in your darkened irises, lips parting with words she wouldn’t speak. 

“The man,” you said, hating the sound of your choked voice, raspy as it made its way out of your chalky throat. “The man that was staying in this room. He left?” 

She stared at you for a moment longer, before nodding slowly. “He did.” 

“Do you know when?” 

When? Where? Why did you let him leave? How could he just walk away without even so much as a goodbye?

The woman shook her head once more, smoothing a wrinkle across the sheets before stepping away from the four-poster bed. The same one that you had tumbled onto with Dazai, twice in the past few days, your icy hands roaming across each other’s bodies.

“That is not my business,” she offered, as kindly as she could, frightened by the sharp coils of your features, as nasty as the glare that shone in your burning eyes. “I apologize that I cannot be of more help, miss.” 

You considered carrying on, objecting, perhaps tearing apart the room in a fit of anger. It could be upended by your monstrous speed before the skittish laundress even had time to protest. 

For less than a moment, you bared your fangs, the sheer white of your teeth glinting in the moonlight. A flash of fear sheared its way through the woman’s eyes, as she caught the menacing curl of your lip, before you recovered smoothly. Quickly enough for her to believe that it had been a trick of the light, a play of her imagination.

“No. I apologize,” you said, dropping your hands to your sides, ignoring the dissonance of your humanity and your eternal curse. So quickly, with the burst of anger thrumming under your skin, you’d resorted to thoughts of violence. Ugly ideas swarmed your mind, a vision of blood, beautifully ruby red, splattering across the creamy linens. 

Perhaps it was best that Dazai left. Hopefully, it was permanent.

Without another word, you left the laundress to her work, heading back to the front desk to see if you could weasel any answers out of the manager. He had been quite adamant in keeping it private, the whereabouts of guests, both past and present, under lock and key.

“I am merely curious when he left,” you said, growing frustrated after a minute of pursuing answers. Your sharp nails, stronger than that of a normal human’s, dug into the counter, small crescents indented in the dark wood. “Can you not supply me with that simple fact?” 

The man pushed his glasses up, shook his head once, before you huffed, nearly hissing under your breath. You would resolve to more drastic measures, if you needed to. 

“Tell me when he left.” You laid your sharp gaze into him, digging past the soil of his golden brown irises, until you had reached his mind, curling your own influence around it. “Dazai Osamu, he was staying in room 29.” 

The man straightened, looked at you with parted lips, like you were the only person, the only being, in the entire world. So captivated he was, both by your beauty and your confidence, the smile on your lips softened, yet not without its cruelty. But the touch you’d laid on his mind was one of comfort, a warm caress. A feeling of laying on your chest, your fingers curling through the few, thin strands left on his balding head. 

“Earlier this week,” he replied, nodding, recollecting the evening. “Yes, I remember him. Quite an outlandish fellow—very self assured. He’d checked out earlier than expected, but seemed in no hurry.” The fog lifted from the man’s irises for just a moment, as confusion hammered against you, and you lost your focus. “I’m sorry, I don’t—”

You were quite out of practice, and dug deeper, controlling his consciousness. “Did he say where he was going? Or anything at all?” 

He shrugged, eyebrows knitting together in pain as your gentle touch laid way to a cold slap against his mortal intuition. “I can only assume he would be going home.” 

You scowled, face marring into an ugly expression, as your hands shook against the countertop. Then, you turned, scoffing, and released the man from your grasp. “Fine. Forget we had this conversation.” 

The clerk said nothing to you as you stalked away, leaving a trail burned into the carpet from your steps. You were nothing more than a stranger. 

Outside, you seemed to come to your senses, the moon, your oldest friend, your eternal companion, greeting you with a kiss. You stared up at it with distant longing, wishing, perhaps, that that silvery light could shroud you, wrap you up and take you away, just as the sunlight could. 

Three steps around the corner, out of the sight of any lingering travelers, you dropped to the ground, leaning against the brick exterior of the old hotel. It was a building on the brim of decay, the colors so much different than when it’d opened, wood paneling rotting away. 

Rotting just like anyone that had ever loved you had done. 

The hotel had been born after your family, after the friends you’d had when you were human, but the state of it was more grisly than any you’d ever been in. It would age, die, collapse into the earth, and you would walk in the rubble, still as divine as you were now. 

The realization of that alone had you doubling over, laughing into your hands, a sharp, terrible sound that echoed into the emptiness of night. 

So hard, you laughed, that it threatened to tumble into tears, ones that you kept at bay, even as you stared at the decaying hotel and the stars in the night that you’d probably outlive too. 

With Dazai gone, you felt closer to the brink of insanity than you ever had, in both your lives as a human and a vampire. It felt that some cord deep within you had snapped, and suddenly, you could not see a reason for your meaningless existence. 

Day in and day out you’d suffered, looking for a reason to continue on the path of moral righteousness, to ignore all the memories that continued to resurface, floating up out of the deep, black abyss. 

You had been unhappy as a human, unsatisfied with your existence, and you had been a loose cannon in your early years as a vampire; a risk to yourself and anything that dared to step in your path. And though you’d once believed yourself to court misery, you had only shared a gentle kiss with it, never taken it to bed and let it shroud you with itself. 

Misery, now, was the only word that could encompass the deep sense of hollowness that had been carved inside of you. Even Atsushi, with his kind eyes and a smile you loved so dearly, had not been able to ease you out of bed. 

Leave me for a few days, Atsushi, you’d told him, not sure if you were being selfish, or quite the opposite. I don’t want to hurt you. 

You didn’t. You didn’t want to hurt him. But there was, and perhaps there would always be, the version of you that longed for the violence. For when had you last been happy, free, without the restraints and the threat of murdering the one you loved most, if not when you were with Dazai?

When the third day passed without a drop of blood, and the hunger had gripped you so tightly that you were on the brink of delirium, you pulled yourself out of bed, and left the apartment. 

It was warmer, humid, the air stifling and pressing down on you as you roamed the streets, looking for something, anything. While the weather had very little effect on the dead, it was your hunger that dizzied you, a sensation that was so close to the suppressive heat felt as a human that you smiled, traipsed around as if you were in a dream.

Atsushi you’d spoken to only in brief increments, your fangs bared in a threat, warning him not to come any closer. And all he’d done was smile, tightly, and grabbed a fresh set of clothes, leaving for the rest of the week to retire elsewhere. 

Despite your treatment of him, you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel apologetic. If that was what it took for you to save his life, to keep him from seeing the ugliest parts of you, then so be it. 

Still, it only made you think of Dazai, who had seen all those sides of you. He had seen you, the very worst parts of you. He had seen you as a human, smiling softly at men on the streets as you slipped a hand into their pockets, stealing for the bread you couldn’t afford. He had seen you relish at the sight of fear, as the very same men began to see you as a threat, not a prize that could so easily be won. He had seen you happily drown yourself in murder, and he had loved you anyway. 

For as little as he’d shared about his own life, you’d understood him. It had been the reason he’d given you the gift of immortality, one you could never return.

Thinking of that — thinking of Dazai at all — felt like a betrayal. 

“Excuse me,” you heard a voice say beside you. A tall man approached, at least a foot above you, his eyes roaming across you with a lust you were all too familiar with. For a moment, you considered ignoring him, stepping away without turning to face him at all. 

He persisted, calling out for you again, when you finally gazed back at him with hard suspicion. 

“May I help you?” you replied, eyes narrowed.

He startled, taking a step back at your intensity. “Ah. I’m just passing through, and I’ve lost my way. I was wondering if you would direct me back to Crescent Street. I’m staying at the hotel there,” he said.

“Perhaps I am a traveler as well.” You glanced back at the river, the shimmering water winking at you with the reflection of the stars. “What makes you so certain I am familiar with the area?”

If you threw yourself into the water, tried to drown under the darkened depths, would you? Would the water flow through your lungs, killing you over and over until the sun rose, or would you simply breath it in and out as freshly as air, coughing it up when you emerged? 

Dazai had never told you these kinds of things. You’d never been bored enough to try and find out yourself. 

“Oh,” the man said. “Forgive me. I just assumed, based on how confidently you stroll the night. With all the murders that have been happening, I thought you must have either been comfortable, or just very stupid.” 

You smiled lazily at him, as the annoyance surged up in you, so fast and without warning. “I am certainly not stupid.” 

“Certainly not.” Then, the man, with his blonde locks and eyes the colors of sapphires, stuck a gloved hand out, leaning forward. “My name is Peter,” he said, curling his hand around your own, pointedly ignoring the ring on your finger. There was hunger in his expression, though it was different from your own, as he dipped his gaze towards the red corset that hugged your curves, revealing a hint of cold skin at your chest. 

You bowed your head gracefully, giving your name in response, before looking at him from under your eyelashes. From that action alone, the sultry burn you had spilled into your irises, his demeanor changed, lips falling open from your otherworldly beauty. 

Although your gift of slipping into the minds of humans, compelling their actions and twisting their memory had come in handy many times in the past, you’d never had to use it to lure a man to his dark fate. They came so easily, once they understood your intentions, saw even a hint of desire contrasting the gentle innocence you held onto. 

“I must be quite lucky, then, to have stumbled across you,” he said, leaning into you. You could smell the tobacco that stuck to his clothes, fine cigars that he smoked quite freely. There was a hint of another scent there too, sweeter, more feminine. It soaked deeply into his clothes, lining every thread as if it had been coated there. 

“Are you traveling alone?” you asked suspiciously, stepping away from him, to find a shaded area along the bank. There were enough trees to hide any hints of murder, and any lingering eyes had fled to the other side of the city, the busier side, where the port was. 

The storm in Peter’s oceanic eyes dissipated to serene waters. 

A lie came after, and so easily it slipped off his tongue, without an ounce of guilt, of the torment you had long since succumbed to. 

“Yes,” he confirmed. Even though his eyes said no, and the scent of the woman’s perfume agreed. 

“No wife?” you returned, smiling softly, as you reached the edge of the water, the waves curling up along the muddied rocks. “Kids?” 

He laughed. “I’m afraid I am still a lonely bachelor.” 

“Well,” you said, turning back around to trace his arm gently, your diamond clad finger on full display. “I’m not.” 

Although he said nothing, you could see the anger rise up in him, the frustration at being toyed with — and how quickly it rose. His fingers tightened at his side, jaw clenching, a cruel word launching to the tip of his tongue. 

“But,” you said, quelling your own rage. The threat of a violent man may have been nothing to you, but it would be enough to the other women that happened to be passing the streets. “Perhaps, we can ignore that small detail, for the time being.” 

You slipped the ring off your finger and dropped it onto the ground, letting it fall into the earth, soiled and dirtied by the splashes of water that rose up — where you belonged. Underground, buried without a ring that never should’ve been on your finger in the first place. 

You felt crazed, your spirit slipping from the shell of morality it had resided in, as it remembered what it truly meant to be free. And you were free, weren’t you? Your nature was never meant to succumb to laws set by mortals, for you were older than them, older than the society that claimed to be civilized, but was just as monstrous as your own. 

Peter parted his lips, formulating a response you cared little for, as you shoved him up against the nearest tree, his back hitting it with a grave thump.

Even though you expected his face to morph into one of pain, he stared back at you with intrigue, eyes alight with want. That alone made you sick, with him and yourself, for doing the same thing to your fiance that you would take his life for. 

You turned his jaw, caressing him softly as you exposed the vein, and dipped your head. 

It was unfortunate that it didn’t cause him any pain, an almost erotic feeling to humans when you sunk your teeth in, tongue lapping at the puncture. But you were far too hungry to care, and ignored the warning bells in your head as you drank and drank, until the blood and breath began to fizzle out, and he was but a corpse left in your arms. 

The taste grew rancid, sour in your mouth with death, and you released him, tearing the skin with a gruesome sound as you emerged from the vein. There wasn’t an ounce of fear in his expression, despite being gruesomely torn apart, and you threw him towards the river in disgust. 

“I would apologize to your wife,” you said, smiling, rejuvenated by fresh human blood. Although he had been an easy catch, the hunt was elating, nonetheless. “But she’s better off without you.” 

You leaned down, ripping a handkerchief from his pocket, before dabbing at your mouth, a few droplets of blood staining the tan cloth. 

A sigh escaped you, and you glanced back up at the moon, the stars, the endless universe that you hardly understood at all. If there was a god out there, or the devil as you’d once feared, would they grant this as a sin, or would you be a vengeful angel, cleaning the world of the scum that committed adulterous acts?

You placed the cloth across his neck before slashing your nails across it, tearing at the skin like you were an animal, just enough to cover your tracks. Then, you dumped him into the water, watched him turn over, onto his face, before sinking just under. 

For a moment, you stared, as the once living, breathing thing turned into something pale and ugly, floating along the current as if nothing more than a piece of litter, carelessly tossed aside. The mop of hair across the top of the waves, golden and shiny in the light, was the only evidence that he had ever been alive at all. 

Then, as quickly as his life had left him, he disappeared into the night, beyond your vision. 

You paused, feeling an eerie sense of nothingness creep up on you, as you realized what you had done. It had been so long since you’d held someone’s life in your hand like that, killed without a second thought, that the feelings of deliverance and regret battled so fiercely, they turned into impassivity. 

Licking your lips, you turned around, basking in the warm glow of the night, the short hours you had left until the sun rose once again. The days would grow longer again, as would your sleep, as the dreadful months of summer sequestered you inside. 

Picking up your ring, you left the bank, elevated. The ground seemed to fall below you as you meandered home, and the sound of the humans, those still awake at such an hour, though loud, was muddled. Nothing but a cacophony of nonsense as your own thoughts rattled even louder in your head. 

The closer you got to home, to Atsushi, the more you grew to question yourself, to feel sick with your own actions. It was weakness that had drawn you to such an act. You were nothing but a slave to your hunger, to the bloodlust, and the anger that rose up in you. 

Dazai had always been so controlled, so careful and cautious. You, on the other hand, had never been a master of your emotions — you went on killing without worry. A glutton when it came to the bodies you drained. 

“Everything alright?” your neighbor asked, smoking on the balcony as her husband slept inside, perhaps the only reprieve she ever got from the miserable man. 

You approached, waved her off, hoping that she was drunk enough to forgot she ever saw you. Maybe she wouldn’t even care that the woman living next door was a killer. 

That was a laughable idea. 

“Everything’s fine.” you spat out, sharply, not even bothering to look in her direction before you returned to your townhome, slamming the door behind you. It rattled on the hinges, the wood cracking, the frame beside the door shaking, before landing crooked.

A few angry tears emerged in your eyes, and you rubbed them away, your hand coated in watery, red blood, smearing into your skin. “Fuck,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked to the bedroom, where you knew Atsushi wasn’t… Even though he should’ve been. 

You screamed, bending over to catch yourself, before you kicked at the wall, a large hole breaking the plaster from the strength you’d forgotten you had. Then you screamed again. And again. Your nails tore into your arms in a ghastly, inhuman way, the skin merely stitching itself back up almost as immediately as you ripped it. 

You could lay there, you thought, glancing over at the windows on the opposite side of the room, the beautiful, golden rock in the sky winking at you as she began to fade into the evening. How easy it would be, to open the glass panels, stand before them and let yourself burn into ashes. You could finally face the sun, let the last century and a half become a mere fraction of what your life could’ve been.

But you didn’t. 

You had some strength in you yet. 

Turning away from the window, you crept into one of the spare bedrooms, where the old coffin you’d slept in before rested on the ground. You’d gotten so used to sleeping in that bed, with Atsushi, that you’d almost forgotten you still had that sense of comfort. 

It was a safety net, one that you happily shrouded yourself in as you dusted off the black cover, settling into the silk red sheets you’d chosen yourself. The feeling of sleep there was so reminiscent of your old life, you half expected to open your eyes and see Dazai there, who had laid beside you, many years after death. 

For the first time in decades, you felt more like a vampire than a pathetic attempt of remaining human. You weren’t sure what to make of that.

Atsushi had crept in and out that morning without making a peep, leaving for the office before the crack of dawn, and returning just as you were emerging from your coffin. 

It was, you knew, something that he had never been able to reconcile with your lifestyle — sleeping in such a way, like the old monsters did, the stories that had always been told. That had partially been the reason he’d offered to take on the daunting task of sun-proofing your home. 

“Are you okay, honey?” Atsushi had asked in his soft voice, eyes narrowed in concern as you emerged from the coffin. “I was worried when I didn’t see you in the room.” 

You smiled, tersely, suddenly remembering yourself, the entirety of last night being chalked up to a poor mistake. It was regrettable, even if Peter was a lousy husband, that his wife would wake up, not knowing where he was. And if he had children, what would they think of their father’s disappearance?

“I’m fine,” you said, shaking off those thoughts. Atsushi certainly didn’t need to be worrying about you, and the murder of a cheating man hardly seemed a sin compared to your hypocrisy. “It just feels strange sleeping in our bed, knowing you won’t be coming home.” 

Atsushi’s eyes softened. His romantic ideals had always been something you could speak to. “I know we’ve had a bit of a rough go of things, but…” he shrugged, reaching out to you, before retracting his hand. “I don’t like staying with Ranpo. I would rather be here, you know.” 

You knew. Of course you knew. It hadn’t been Atsushi that had insisted upon his removal from the apartment. 

“I’m sorry,” you sighed.

“It’s okay.” For a moment, he looked away, then rubbed his face. “I know we said we would wait — that I would wait until we were married, but,” a brief pause, as he swallowed. “Maybe, you should turn me now. If I’m still a risk to you.” 

There was a hint of uncertainty in his voice, even if his eyes were steadfast. Atsushi still had faith in his humanity, still held onto it tightly, though every moment spent with you left it quickly slipping through the cracks of his fingers. 

But it was never an issue of marriage that had kept you from turning Atsushi. It was the fact that he was so good, so unlike you and Dazai, that you wanted to put it off for as long as possible. 

You smiled, though it was pained, and shook your head. Imagining Atsushi as a vampire was beginning to make you ill, the vision so against the will of the universe that you weren’t sure it could ever come to pass. 

“I’m okay now, I think. I’ve taken care of it.” 

He didn’t ask what that meant. 

You didn’t bother to tell him, either. 

PART VI

sorry this one is kind of a filler >< i promise there will be more exciting stuff soon !!

tag list: @cerberels @thateldribitch @osameowdazai @osaemu @cha0thicpisces @kissesmellow21 @hinata7346 @scinclaitnoir @mimimimiminanana @yolkyuyi @xxoolii @zephoncocaine @angelsdemonsandhumans @kouyoumarryme @avocate-assia-dazai dazai @iluv-ace @pe4rl-diver @wilbur-the-hottie @zbriia @yasu-masashige @umarureid @seikouryuu @dazaiswife1 @kxmilia @lacunaanonymousd @angelof-darkness @acacia-koi @foxydaydreamer @astrial @adoreddior @jayborderline @fandomhoestuff @destinyisastar @kierabear-1 @rosepig @aikatoru @tetsuskei @erebus-et-eigengrau @moemoekunn @amanoava @blank03sthings @himikoslove @aenishas @mncxbe @acacia-koi @stromy-weather @sugaredpersimmon @waiting-for-cas-to-save-me @iheartpieck @little-miss-chaoss

[justlemmeadoreyou]

An Eternal Embarce*

(a hades!harry x persephone!y/n story)

in which Persephone is back after 6 months, and the Underworld blossoms once again. Tensions arise too, but there is nothing that the king of Underworld and Queen of Spring can't handle together

Word Count: 7.7k (she's long)

Warnings: 18+ content, two smut scenes, almost 3k words of filth, oral (f receiving, mentions of m receiving), unprotected sex

(please don't read if you are under 18)

(i worked really hard on this, please don't let it flop)

The Underworld was buzzing with excitement as Hades, also known as Harry, eagerly awaited the return of his beloved Persephone. It had been six months since she went up to the mortal realm, leaving him to rule the shadowy realms alone. The air in the Underworld seemed charged with an otherworldly energy, as if the entire realm was eager for the return of the goddess of spring.

As autumn's chill embraced the realms, the anticipation in the underworld grew. Harry felt a mix of excitement and longing as he waited for his queen's return. The portal shimmered, and Persephone, or Yn, stepped through, casting a radiant glow in the room. A soft smile adorned her lips, and the enchanting aroma of blooming flowers and the essence of spring filled the space.

As Persephone returns to the underworld, the atmosphere undergoes a subtle transformation. The dim-lit halls, once draped in shadows, seem to awaken with a newfound vibrancy. The air, usually heavy with an eternal stillness, stirs with a gentle breeze that carries a hint of blooming flowers and the sweet fragrance of spring.

The normally monochromatic landscape of the underworld begins to blossom with hues unseen during her absence. Delicate petals materialize, scattering across the paths she walks, leaving a trail of ephemeral beauty in her wake. The soft glow of luminescent flowers unfurls, casting a warm and gentle radiance in the once-shadowy corners of Hades' realm.

The underworld, typically shrouded in an eternal night, experiences a subtle shift in its cosmic arrangement. Faint glimmers of starlight twinkle above, mirroring the celestial display of the world above ground during her reign. It's as if the heavens themselves acknowledge her return, gracing the underworld with a beautiful celestial dance.

Hades, the lord of shadows, finds the weight of his kingdom momentarily lifted. The throne room, usually draped in a somber ambiance, basks in a soft, romantic glow. Shadows playfully dance with the ethereal light, creating a captivating interplay that mirrors the complexity of the emotions within the lord of the underworld.

The Underworld River, typically calm and placid, shivers with newfound life. Its waters, once still as the deepest abyss, ripple with a subtle current, echoing the pulse of Persephone's return. The reflections on its surface seem to shimmer with an otherworldly luminosity, mirroring the radiance she brings to this realm.

In essence, Persephone's return to the underworld transforms it into a realm of juxtaposition—a delicate fusion of darkness and light, shadows and blooms, where the eternal night momentarily gives way to the ephemeral enchantment of spring. The very fabric of the underworld seems to resonate with the romantic cadence of her presence, creating a symphony of emotions and atmospheres that dance harmoniously in the wake of her return.

Their reunion, though expected, carried the weight of a prolonged separation. Harry, usually composed, found himself at a loss for words, an uncommon sight in the Underworld.

"You're back," he said, relief and joy evident in his voice. He was beyond thrilled to see her safe and sound.

Persephone, also known as Y/N in the nine realms, nodded, reaching out to touch his hand. "I always return, Hades. It's the rhythm of the seasons."

"I missed you," he said softly. "I missed your touch, your smell, just having you around. It felt like forever without you."

Y/N smiled, showing how much she loved and missed him. "I missed you too, Harry. Every moment away felt like a really long time."

"I brought you these," she said, offering a basket of flowers. "Fresh from the mortal realm."

Harry accepted the gift with gratitude, inhaling the intoxicating fragrance. "Mortal flowers in the Underworld, a rare delight. Thank you, my sweet love."

He carefully placed the flowers on the bed and pulled her close, his hands cradling her beautiful face. They looked into each other's eyes, savoring the moment. After a while, Harry leaned in, capturing her lips with his in a sweet and long-awaited kiss.

The kiss was like magic. His lips moved smoothly and knowingly against hers, igniting a spark of desire in each other. His mouth claimed her pushing his tongue in her eager mouth. His hands shifted down her body, grabbing her waist, and pulling her further into him.

The absence of each other had stretched over time, intensifying the beauty of this long-awaited moment. It was as if time stopped, and it was just the two of them in that special moment.

Y/N let herself be handled by him, eagerly closing the space between them. She grabbed his shoulders, and her other hand went in his hair, pulling at it as she moaned into his mouth.

“God, you’re so beautiful” he whispered, fighting the urge to fall to his knees right then and there, and worship the beautiful goddess in front of him. Y/N smiled, looking up at her husband with passion and adoration.

Maybe he will.

“I want to worship you, my love.” He whispered into her ear, gently biting her earlobe. She shivered, her grip on his hair and shoulders loosening. She knew where this was going.

And she liked it.

“Mhm, but do we have time? I have to greet everyone as soon as I arrive”

He groaned, grabbing at her attire wantingly.

“That can wait, my love. They can wait. Right now, you’re mine. Only mine. And I want you. Your legs wrapped around my head, your thighs spread wide as I eat that sweet cunt of yours.

Her cheeks turned red, her mouth parting in an instant. She had been waiting for this too, to have his eager mouth on each part of her body, to become his, once again. And again. And again.

“I do too, my love. But-“

He brought a finger up to her lips, stopping her from finishing her sentence.

“No but’s or if’s. I want you, and I shall have you” with that, he grabbed her waist, turning them both around. His lips were back on hers, and he walked her backwards, till the back of her knees hit the mattress. With a swift motion, her body was thrown on it, her hair flopping down messily. Her chest bounced too, the tops of her breasts peeking out from the tight corset she was wearing. He licked his lips; he couldn’t wait to have his mouth on her heavenly body.

He flopped down on the bed, once again, stealing a quick kiss on her lips. His hands gripped the bottom of her skirt, slowly and steadily riding it up her legs.

Y/N’s breathing increased rapidly, and she gripping the satin sheets beneath her in her palms to keep her composure. It had been mere moments of kissing, and she had already gotten so wet and needy for him.

Once the skirt was up to her waist, he wasted no time in removing the rest of the clothing, her panties included. They had a wet patch in the middle, and Harry smirked, fully aware of the effect he had on her, how he can get her all dripping down for him without even touching her.

“So wet fo’ me, my love” he said, and she gulped. He was staring at her exposed pussy with hunger in his eyes, and she felt exposed, trying to close her thighs.

His actions were quicker, and he gripped the warm flesh in his hands. Spreading them wide, he glared at her, and she nodded, silently promising to not hide herself from him.

He slid to his stomach, gripping her legs in both his hands. He shifted forward, allowing her to rest her ankles on his shoulder, the heels digging into the flesh.

He stuck his tongue out, keeping eye contact with her, as he licked a bold stripe from her ass to her clit, collecting her wetness on his tongue. He then closed his mouth, her sweet taste evading his senses.

She released the sheets from the death grip she had on them, and held Harry’s hand in hers, squeezing it hard. He went fully in then, licking up all of her arousal as if it were his last meal.

He licks up her pussy again, and again, and again. Her arousal seeps out more, her other hand creeping its way down to grab into his curls.

Harry realizes she wants more, and he spreads her pussy open. With an open mouth, he blows air on her clit, making her whimper out loud, before she takes her bottom lip between her teeth.

“Y’ like that, pretty girl?” he asks rhetorically, and he starts to lick on her clit, teasing her entrance with his finger.

She moans pretty above him, as his licks become faster and concentrated. Her mind reels with pleasure as her pussy becomes wetter. He circles her opening with his finger, before gently pushing one in.

She releases a sigh of relief, as his cold finger pushes into her warm, wet hole. He pushes it in fully, before pressing a soft kiss to her clit.

He begins to finger-fuck her slowly; her moans and whimpers music to his ears. She opens up soon, and Harry pushes in another. Two fingers in her pussy, and her face contorts in pleasure as she senses the beginning of an orgasm.

“You feel good?” he asks, increasing the speed of his fingers into her weepy hole. He brings his mouth back down on her, kissing and licking her puffy clit. Her grip on his hair tightens, her moans becoming louder with each thrust of his long fingers, rubbing against her g-spot with ease. His fingers, and cock especially, reached spots inside her that she didn’t even know existed.

“I do…I do-Oh fuck!” she curses, as he brings his thumb on her clit, rubbing slow circles on it. Her legs tense, her back arching off the bed beautifully as her stomach tightens. She closes her eyes, her orgasm approaching at a pace faster than she had anticipated.

That’s when he does it-pushed one more finger in, and then one more. Holding her thighs wider as he drives them into her with full speed. Her legs shake as she screams and moans, a thin layer of sweat covering her forehead.

“Harry-I-I’m going to cum, Harry-“ she barely finishes her sentence, before the coil in her stomach snaps. She cums all over his mouth and fingers, chanting his name repeatedly as he finger-fucks her throughout, his thumb and mouth on her swollen clit, wanting to make her orgasm last longer, and to milk every drop from her sweet cunt. He licks it all up, and once she is finished, he emerges from between her legs, half of his face coated in her sweetness.

He looked up at his love, her eyes closed with content. Her face was glowing with the beautiful glow of pleasure, her cheeks flushed red. He couldn’t take his eyes off of it.

Soon, she opened her eyes, and Harry quickly shifted upward, encasing her lips in his. She could taste herself on him, and she sighed at the sweet taste lingering between them.

But, just when they were getting lost in the moment, there was a knock on the door. It was a reminder that they weren't alone, and other things needed attention.

Harry sighed and said, "Seems like we can't catch a break, love."

“We’ll be right out” he announces, before kissing her once again. They both get off the bed, and he helps her fix her dress and appearance, though the smell of sex lingered in the air, and their faces gave away what they tried to hide.

He opened the door soon, and was greeted by Hermes, the winged herald of Olympus.

"Lord Hades, Lady Persephone," Hermes bowed respectfully. "Zeus has requested your presence in the divine hall."

Harry exchanged a knowing glance with Y/N. The tranquility of the moment was momentarily interrupted by the summons from the king of the gods.

"We shall go at once," Harry replied, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his expression. Hermes nodded and, with a swift motion, extended a scroll containing Zeus's message. "He awaits you in the divine hall. The matter is of importance, my lord." Y/N placed a reassuring hand on Harry’s arm. "Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

With a nod to Hermes, Harry and Y/N made their way through the grand halls of the Underworld, the weight of impending divine matters settling upon them. The anticipation of a summons from Zeus carried an air of both mystery and gravity.

The divine hall awaited, its doors opening to reveal Zeus on his throne, regarding them with a mixture of sternness and intrigue.

"Lord Hades, Lady Persephone," Zeus boomed, "You come at my request. There's a matter that requires your attention."

Approaching the throne, their expressions composed but curious, Harry inquired, "What matter brings us before you, Father?"

Zeus leaned forward. "Concerns have risen among the gods about the balance of power and the changing dynamics within the divine realm."

Y/N exchanged a puzzled look with Harry. "What do you mean, Father?"

Zeus sighed. "The union between the god of the Underworld and the goddess of spring has stirred discussions. Some are concerned about the potential shift in the cosmic balance."

Harry defended their union. "Our love brings harmony to our realms, Zeus. It does not disrupt the balance."

Zeus raised a hand. "I understand, but the concerns persist. To ease them, I propose a grand celebration—a gathering of gods and goddesses from all realms. A feast that will demonstrate the unity and stability of the divine order."

Harry realized the significance. "We shall host it in the Underworld, a testament to the enduring love that transcends realms."

Zeus approved. "May this celebration reaffirm the bonds that unite us all."

As the divine decree echoed, Harry and Y/N embraced the responsibility. The grand celebration would showcase not only divine unity but also the eternal reunion of Hades and Persephone.

The long table was adorned with decadent delicacies from all corners of the realm - ambrosia platters, pomegranate salads, and sinfully delicious desserts that would make even the gods drool. The atmosphere was filled with laughter and stories as loved ones reunited after what felt like an eternity apart.

Amidst this joyous gathering, Harry proudly introduced Y/N as his queen and partner in ruling over the Underworld. She charmed everyone with her warmth, grace, and genuine interest in their stories. Laughter echoed through the halls as they shared tales of adventure, love, and mischief.

As the night wore on, Harry and Y/N found solace in each other's presence, basking in the love of their family and friends. The Underworld was alive with happiness and contentment, for it was a reminder that true love could thrive even in the most unexpected places.

And so, as the stars twinkled above their kingdom and laughter filled the air, they embraced this precious moment of togetherness. Their reunion was not just a celebration of love but a testament to the power of connection and the beauty that can be found in even the darkest depths.

And then, as the feast reached its crescendo, Hades rose from his seat and raised a goblet to Persephone. The flickering torchlight cast shadows on the grand walls as Hades spoke, his words a heartfelt declaration.

"To Persephone, my queen, the light of the Underworld, and the love that has breathed life into the realm of shadows. May our days be filled with endless joy and our nights with eternal love."

The denizens of the Underworld echoed his sentiment with cheers, toasts, and a sense of jubilation that reverberated through the grand hall.

Persephone blushed, her eyes sparkling with gratitude. "To eternity and beyond," she said, clinking her goblet against Hades'.

After the feast, the grand hall echoed with soft footsteps as Harry and Y/N headed to the starlit garden. The celestial lights bathed the garden in a magical radiance as they stepped into the night.

Taking Y/N's hand, Harry led her into the open space beneath the twinkling stars. The night held a hushed beauty, and they danced to a celestial melody, a seamless harmony between the lord of the Underworld and the goddess of spring.

Standing at the center of the divine garden, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight and surrounded by fragrant blossoms, Harry and Y/N prepared to dance. The celestial lights above seemed to twinkle in anticipation, casting a gentle radiance on the couple as they took each other's hands.

Harry, with his customary charm, looked into Y/N's eyes and whispered, "May I have this dance, my love?"

Y/N's heart fluttered with love and adoration as she nodded, and they began their dance under the vast expanse of the starlit sky. The music of the night, a melodic symphony composed by nature itself, set the rhythm for their movements.

Harry guided Y/N with grace and tenderness, each step a declaration of the unconditional love that bound them together. The soft rustle of their clothes blended with the gentle night breeze, creating a harmonious melody that resonated with the heartbeat of the beautiful garden that bloomed with her magic.

"I've missed this," he confessed, the dance a gentle rhythm that echoed the beating of his heart.

"Me too, Harry," Persephone replied, her gaze locked with his. "There's something magical about dancing with you in the Underworld."

As they danced, Hades couldn't resist stealing kisses, each one a promise of the love that transcended the realms. The river Styx murmured its approval, and even the shadows seemed to sway in time with their movements.

"You know," Persephone said, her voice a soft whisper, "I wrote you letters while I was away. I wanted to capture every moment so I could share it with you when I returned."

Hades felt warmth in his chest at her words. "Letters? I would love to read them, my love."

Persephone blushed, a delightful contrast to the vibrant flowers in her hair. "They're not very poetic, just my ramblings and musings. But I poured my heart into them."

In that enchanted moment, Hades and Persephone were not the lord and goddess of the Underworld. They were two souls intertwined in a dance celebrating the eternal nature of their love. The grand feast had united the divine family, and now, beneath the cosmic lights, the couple celebrated the unity of their hearts.

They moved in sync, their dance the unspoken language of love. Harry's hand securely held Y/N's waist, drawing her close, while Y/N rested her head on his shoulder, feeling the comforting warmth of his embrace.

The garden itself seemed to respond to the dance of love. Blossoms unfurled in their wake, releasing bursts of vibrant colors that matched the emotions swirling between the couple. The gentle hum of nature's lullaby accompanied their every movement, creating an atmosphere of serenity and joy.

The dance continued a journey of shared dreams and whispered promises.

As the dance reached its crescendo, Harry held Y/N in a final, lingering twirl. They paused, caught in the embrace of the night, and shared a tender kiss beneath the celestial lights.

“I love you so much, Y/N. So fucking much. “He whispered, and his face carried softness and love rarely seen on Lord of the Underworld. He was different when he was with her.

He was in love.

Y/N muttered the same, her lips ghosting over his once again. They softly brushed against each other, pecking every once in a while.

Hand in hand, they walked through the garden, leaving behind a trail of blossoms and the echo of their laughter.

Hand in hand, they ventured through the winding corridors of the Underworld. As they reached the Elysian Fields, the once desolate realm began to transform in Persephone's wake. Flowers bloomed beneath her feet, and the atmosphere blossomed with life.

"You've worked your magic again," Hades remarked, marveling at the vibrant beauty she brought to his kingdom.

Persephone grinned, her eyes sparkling. "I can't stand the idea of a lifeless Underworld. Besides, a little color never hurt anyone."

They found a secluded spot overlooking the river Styx, where Hades conjured a plush blanket for them to sit on. The soft glow of the river reflected in Persephone's eyes as they gazed at each other, a magnetic pull connecting their souls.

"Tell me everything about your time in the mortal realm," Harry urged.

"And you won't believe what Hermes did to entertain me," she laughed, recounting a particularly amusing anecdote that involved the mischievous messenger.

Hades chuckled, reveling in the sound of her laughter. "I'm starting to think Hermes enjoys causing chaos wherever he goes."

The moon rose higher in the sky, casting its gentle glow over the Underworld. Sensing the time was right; Hades took Persephone's hand, leading her into a slow dance beneath the celestial light.

Later, as they sat together on the blanket, Persephone retrieved a bundle of letters from her bag. Hades watched with eager anticipation as she handed them to him, each one filled with the essence of her experiences in the mortal realm.

For hours, they immersed themselves in Persephone's words, her descriptions painting vivid images of the world above. Hades listened intently, savoring every detail as if he were there with her. The letters became a bridge between their two worlds, connecting them even when miles apart.

As the night deepened, Hades couldn't help but express his feelings in the best way he knew how—through a poem, despite its potential lameness.

"In the depths of shadows, where silence holds sway,

A love blooms eternal, no darkness can betray.

Persephone, my light, in the mortal realm's embrace,

You brought back the sun, and with it, my grace."

Persephone's eyes sparkled with emotion. "Harry, that was beautiful. Lame, but beautiful. I love it."

Hades chuckled, a twinkle in his eyes. "I aim to impress with my poetic prowess."

The moon hung high in the sky, casting its silver glow over the Underworld. Hades and Persephone lingered in each other's arms, the world around them forgotten. It was a moment frozen in time, a testament to the enduring love that bound them together.

>>>

As soon as they were back to the castle, they couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Sure, they were divine beings above human urges, but they couldn't deny the magnetic pull that drew them together.

They entered Harry’s room, closing the heavy wooden door behind them. The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of candles, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls.

Their lips were on each other, now kissing with more lust and desire. Harry had been pent-up ever since he’d had his head between her plush thighs, and her moans, her whimpers, and her ultimate release had almost made him burst in his pants.

But he had held off.

Even he doesn’t quite recall how he did it, perhaps some “celestial” power he didn’t know he had.

He began by untying the strings on her white corset, so many of them there were. She could see that he was getting restless, and she spoke up, “You know you can use your magic, right? Make them disappear in a click of your fingers?”

He chuckled, looking up at her while he continued the task in hand, “I sure can, my love. But I want to see the way your body reacts to my touch when I undress you. The way your cheeks becomes red as part by part, your beautiful body is exposed to me. The gasp you release when I unhook your bra, and the whimper that comes from your lips when I rub your pretty pussy over your wet panties, which I know they quite are. I want to see it all”

Y/N blushed, unable to keep eye-contact with the god in front of him.

Soon, the corset was undone, and Harry removed her long gown. He reached back, swiftly unhooking her bra, and throwing it behind him. His hands were on her breasts, and he groaned as he kneaded them in his hands.

“So long, darling. So long I have gone without your body” he bent down, rolling a nipple between his fingers before taking it into his mouth. He flicked his tongue over it, eliciting a whimper from her pretty mouth. He squeezed it in his palm, between his fingers, as he continued sucking on the hardened nub. His other hand trailed to her left breast, kneading it too while he rolled the nipple harshly between his fingers.

“Harry-it feels so good, fuck…” she cursed, pressing her thighs together as more and more arousal oozed out of her needy hole. She whimpered and moaned with need as he played with her breasts, alternating in kissing, sucking and biting them. He sucked a few bruises on them too, just around the areola, not too much in the areas where they could be seen by others.

Once he was satisfied with his work, pretty bruises that would turn purplish-red soon, he looked up at his love. Her head was thrown back, lips parted as she was getting wetter by each passing second.

Harry’s hands rested at her waist, and she opened her eyes, meeting his green ones.

He joined their lips again, and started to kitten lick and suck her tongue, while his eager hands explored her body. He drifted his hands to her damp centre, brushing his finger over the damp spot on her panties, just above her clit. She moaned into his mouth, and e swallowed it all up, before bringing his fingers to the waistband of her panties.

He broke the kiss, quickly dropping down to his knees before her. He pulled the ruined panties off her legs, unhooking them from her ankles and throwing them near the discarded bra.

She was now fully naked before him, and she wanted to hide herself. Given that he had already seen her a million times like this before, given their immortal nature, and yet, being this vulnerable made her shy.

She tries to close her legs before him, hide her pussy from his hungry eyes. He smiles, knowing that she must be feeling so shy, given how much time they had spent apart.

“It’s okay, love. I know it’s been a while, and you’d feel exposed being fully naked around me. But you don’t have to, love. Not from me. You never have to be nervous or shy around me. Naked or not, any way you are, you are absolutely ethereal. And divine”

She felt a sense of relief hearing those words. Being a goddess, she knew she was one of the most beautiful and stunning creatures to walk in the Underworld. Her ethereal form radiated a timeless beauty that transcended mortal comprehension. And she was the most confident when she was out in the world. Her words, her beauty, all were elements that captivated those fortunate enough to witness her presence. The ethereal glow surrounding her form seemed to dance in harmony with the confidence that emanated from within.

Yet, here she was, feeling exposed and shy in front of her own husband, who was on his knees in front of her, ready to worship her.

“And yet, if you don’t feel comfortable enough, dove, we don’t have to do this. It’s all right. We can-“ she stopped him mid-sentence.

“No, no-I-I want to, Harry, it’s just-the way you looked at me made me feel-like I’m not that beautiful as you tell me I am.”

“You are, my love. You are absolutely exquisite, my darling. And I’m going to show you just how damn breathtaking you look around my cock.”

“But-how?” she asked.

He smirked, before snapping his fingers. A long, floor length mirror appeared behind him,, making her look at her own reflection.

“But, Harry-“

“No questions, love. You had your fun throughout the day, now let me have mine”

He parted her legs, immediately attaching his mouth to her swollen clit. She released a moan, his mouth doing wonders between her legs.

He licked and sucked, and licked her pretty pussy till she was a moaning mess again, whimpering with her bottom lip between her teeth. Her cheeks were flushed red, eyes full of lust as she watched herself reach the high of pleasure.

Her chest had reddened, and eyes were hooded, threatening to fall shut with the sheer pleasure consuming her. Her hands were in his brown curls, pulling and pushing his head to her core at the same time, conflicted between the need to succumb to the upcoming pleasure or to pull away from it.

But, just as she was about to fall over the edge, he stopped. Pulled his mouth off of her, making her release a cry of need.

“Harry-I-I was so close-“

“I want you to come around my cock, darling. Want to see you fall apart as I fuck you”

He got up, knees wobbly. He started to undress himself, removing each piece of clothing while maintain eye contact with Y/N.

She was still coming down from the high he’d almost got her to, her breathing still rapid and ragged. Soon, he was naked in front of her, pushing her back on the bed on which she fell with a soft thud.

She sat up on her elbows, and he pulled her so she was sitting upright. He climbed on the bed behind her, and sat down.

With fingers still damp, he pushed her thighs apart wide, spreading his own as well and locking hers with his, so she couldn’t push them again.

She sighed as her pussy spread open, revealing her pretty hole to the gigantic mirror in front of them.

He took hold of her wrists, pinning them together behind her back.

“Keep ‘em there. Don’t move”

He warned.

And she knew better than to disobey him.

“Okay” a quite whisper, but he heard it well.

“Good girl”

Her pussy throbbed with need, her neglected clit swollen and red. He brought his hands to her thighs, lightly grazing them with his fingers. He rubbed his hands up and down, smoothing them up to the part where her centre meet her thighs, and retreating back, neglecting the place where she needed him the most.

“Harry-please” she begged, hoping he will give in and fuck her senseless.

“My rules tonight, darling” he answered simply, and she had no choice other than to sit pretty and take it.

His torture continued for quite a while, and she was so tired from his edging, her head resting limply on his shoulder. She would get excited whenever he would graze her clit, only to get disappointed immediately after.

When he decided that he had had enough, he finally gave in. She was so fucking wet already, soaking the satin sheets beneath them with the arousal that dripped down continuously. He brought two fingers to her entrance, gently pushing them in while he played with her perky nipples, twisting them while stuffing her full.

“Oh fuck, Har-“ she cursed, her walls immediately clamping down on his two fingers. She tried to move herself on him, grind on his fingers, but he held them apart nicely, stopping any movements.

“Feel good?” he asked, pinching her nipple as he stuffed his fingers fully in, gently flicking the tips inside her tight walls.

“Mhm, yes, feels good-fuck!” he pushed another finger in, thrusting them in and out at a godly speed. She scratched his chest, nails scraping down his abdomen. She was feeling so good again, ready to burst at any moment.

That’s when he stopped-again. Pulled his fingers out completely. And just as she was about to open her mouth and whine about it-he pushed them into her mouth.

She moaned around them, sucking and licking off her own sweet arousal. He groaned at this, feeling so impossibly hard that he thought he will burst again.

“That’s it-good girl” he pulled them out, wiping them on her stomach. She smirked, knowing how she had imagined it was his cock between her lips, and made him imagine the same too.

Her on her knees before him, his hands in her hair, gripping them harshly as she took him like a pro. All those filthy thoughts muddled his mind, and he couldn’t hold back longer.

He turned her around easily, pushing her back down so her back was on the mattress, and he climbed on top of her. His lips attached to her neck, licking and sucking as he spread her legs apart with his hand, positioning his cock just before her lips.

Parting them with his one hand, he released a sigh of relief as he pushed himself in, her warm walls feeling so heavenly around his cock. He had held off for so long, focusing on her pleasure more than his. But now, he was going to fuck her good, make her see stars as she came around her cock again and again.

She grabbed onto his shoulders, nails scratching their way down as she felt the initial burn of his cock stretching her wide open. She tried to keep her composure, but how good she, when it hurt so good and felt even better at the same time?

He gave her time to adjust to his length, not trying to overwhelm her with bottoming out immediately. Once she was, she gave him a quick nod to keep going.

That was all he needed, as he carefully pushed in to the hilt, bottoming out inside her as his balls slapped with her ass. She wrapped her legs around his slim waist as he grabbed her wrists, pulling them from his shoulder and pinning them above her head.

“Gonna fuck you real good today” he promised, snapping his hips against hers. His cock drive into her warn hole again and again, making her throw her head back with pleasure. He took this opportunity and kisses and nipped at her neck, her jaw slack with pleasure. The bed started to rock against the wall due to the force of his thrusts, her slick folds coating his cock with arousal every time he pushed in. She was impossibility wet, and on the verge of falling over the edge.

“Oh my god!” she whimpered out when he gave a particularly hard thrust, her legs shaking with pleasure. His hands wrapped around her neck, slightly putting pleasure as he forced her to open her eyes.

“Look at me when you cum” he said, and she immediately nodded, not wanting to risk any other orgasm because of disobedience.

But she was disappointed quickly as he pulled out again, leaving her on the edge. She had been so pent up. and now on the verge of crying.

He picked her up, turning her around to face the mirror, on her hands and knees. They were shaking profusely, so he had to slide an arm beneath to support her pliant body.

“Look at me when you cum. In the mirror” he grabbed her jaw and positioned her face so she was forced to loom at herself, her body succumbing to pleasure that he gave her.

Every push of his cock in her melted her further and further, breasts jiggling with the force of his harsh thrusts, again and again.

“Har-please” she pleaded, not being able to hold off for any longer.

“Yeah, baby? You want to come?” he asked.

She nodded, not being able to form any coherent sentence, she was about to fall over the edge, just needed that little push, just a little…

He seemed to have read her mind because as soon as she thought of that, his fingers were on her clit, harshly rubbing concentrated circles, enough to take her fall over the edge she was teetering on.

“Watch yourself. Look how pretty you look falling apart on m’ cock, darling” her eyes quickly drifted to the mirror in front, and indeed, he was correct.

Her cheeks were flushed red , her face glowing as she released warm puffs of air through her open mouth. He was filling her up so good, pressing against the soft, spongy spot deep inside of her that made her toes curl and eyes to roll into the back of her head.

The obscene sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the room, her moans and whimpers, and his grunts audible above them all. He gripped her hips harshly, nails digging in as he prepared to spill himself inside her.

“I'm close too…” he announced, and leaned in, wrapping his hand around her middle. He pulled her neck so that her back touched his clammy chest, the change in positioning giving him a deeper angle.

“Harry-Oh fuck!” she immediately gave in, her legs giving out beneath her as the waves of pleasure rolled through her body, blinding her vision and ringing her ears. His hand on her swollen clit was relentless, and so was his speed of fucking her through her orgasm.

“Harry-har-feels so fucking good, har” she stuttered, mouth open as she watched herself come undone on his cock. A warm glow enveloped her, and she looked absolutely breathtaking. But, her eyes were fixated on her Harry, who was just about to cum.

His eyes were closed shut, low grunts leaving his lips with each thrust as he gave in, and the first few drops of his release coated her walls.

“Fuck, baby. Making me feel-so-fucking-good, Fuck! His words were punctuated with thrusts to her cunt, spilling more and more of his milky cum with each push inside.

“Cum for me, Har-give me all you have” her soft voice egged him on, as her warm walls milked him for all he had. Once he was done, he gave her a final look in the mirror, before falling down on the bed, taking her with him.

In the hushed aftermath of their intimate celebration, Hades and Persephone lay entwined in the ethereal glow of their chamber. The flickering candlelight cast a warm hue over the room, a testament to the love that had just been shared. The echoes of their whispers lingered, blending with the quietude that enveloped the space.

Hades traced delicate patterns on Persephone's bare back, his touch a caress that spoke of both passion and tenderness. Her hair spilled like a cascade of midnight over the pillows, and the moonlight filtering through the window bathed them in a soft, celestial radiance.

The room seemed to respond to their connection, as if the very walls held the echoes of their shared love. The air shimmered with an otherworldly energy, and the shadows on the walls danced in tandem with the rhythm of their hearts.

As they lay there, the tapestry of their shared history unfolded in their minds—the challenges they had faced, the laughter they had shared, and the quiet moments that had solidified their bond. Hades couldn't help but marvel at the depth of emotion Persephone brought into his life—a depth that went beyond the confines of the Underworld and stretched into the boundless expanse of eternity.

Their connection, both physical and emotional, created a cocoon of intimacy that shielded them from the outside world. The grandeur of the Underworld, the echoes of the banquet, and the responsibilities of ruling—all faded into insignificance in the embrace of their private sanctuary.

As the night deepened, they spoke of dreams and aspirations, of the moments that had left an indelible mark on their souls and of the endless possibilities that awaited them in the expanse of eternity. The bedroom, once a quiet space, became a canvas for their shared reflections and whispered confessions.

In the quiet moments between their words, Hades couldn't help but be grateful for the cosmic tapestry that had woven their fates together. Persephone, once a fleeting vision in the mortal realm, had become the heartbeat of his existence—the one who brought warmth to the depths of the Underworld and a symphony of joy to his immortal heart.

And so, in the heart of the Underworld, where time moved in a rhythm known only to gods, Hades and Persephone continued their intimate celebration. The moon hung low in the sky, its silvery glow a witness to the depth of their connection.

As the night wore on, they found solace in the quiet moments of shared laughter, whispered promises, and stolen kisses. The room became a haven, a sanctuary for the love that had endured through the ages. Their connection, both physical and emotional, became a testament to the enduring power of love in the face of eternity.

And as they drifted into the peaceful embrace of sleep, still entwined in each other's arms, the echoes of their shared celebration lingered in the air. The Underworld, once a realm of shadows, held within its depths a love story that unfolded in the quiet moments of the night—a love story destined to resonate through the corridors of eternity.

>>>

One day, as they stood on the shores of the Styx, Hades couldn't help but ponder the nature of their love. "Persephone, my queen, do you ever tire of the Underworld? Would you prefer a life in the mortal realm or on Mount Olympus?"

Persephone looked into his eyes, a soft smile playing on her lips. "Harry, it's not about the realm we're in; it's about the love we share. Whether in the Underworld, the mortal realm, or the heavens above, as long as we are together, that's where I belong."

Hades felt a surge of gratitude and love for the woman standing beside him. "You truly are my light in the darkness, Persephone."

Their days were filled with laughter, shared adventures, and stolen moments of intimacy. Hades reveled in the simple pleasures of mortal-inspired picnics, where they lounged in the Fields of Asphodel, surrounded by the beauty Persephone had brought to his kingdom.

As the seasons changed, and the tapestry of time unfolded, Hades and Persephone's love deepened. They faced challenges together, weathered storms, and celebrated triumphs. The Underworld, once a place of solitude and shadows, became a canvas for their love story—a story that echoed through the corridors of eternity.

In the quietude of the Underworld, where the river Styx whispered ancient secrets, Hades and Persephone found a love that transcended the boundaries of the realms. And as they danced under the eternal moonlight, their hearts beat in harmony, creating a melody that echoed

Through the ages, their love story continued to unfold, a tale woven into the fabric of time itself. The Underworld bore witness to the eons that passed, yet Hades and Persephone remained a constant, their love enduring like the everlasting cycle of the seasons.

They explored the hidden realms of the Underworld, discovering forgotten chambers and secret passages. Hades showed Persephone the intricacies of his kingdom, the responsibilities and duties that came with ruling the dead. Yet, through it all, their love remained a guiding light, illuminating the darkest corners of the Underworld.

One day, as they stood on the precipice of the Abyss, where the echoes of lost souls reverberated, Hades spoke of his deepest fears and vulnerabilities. Persephone listened with compassion, her love a balm for the wounds that time had etched into his immortal heart.

"I never imagined I could share my burdens with another," Hades admitted, his voice a low rumble that echoed in the cavernous space. "But with you, Persephone, everything feels different. I am not alone."

Persephone took his hand, her touch comforting warmth. "We face the challenges together, Harry. Your burdens are mine, just as mine are yours. We are partners in this journey through eternity."

Their love became a beacon in the Underworld, a source of inspiration for lost souls seeking solace. Tales of Hades and Persephone's enduring love spread through the realm, offering hope to those who had long forgotten the warmth of companionship.

As the years unfolded, they witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations in the mortal realm. Hades and Persephone, however, remained unchanged, their love an eternal flame that defied the ravages of time. They watched as mortal heroes rose to greatness and tragic tales unfolded, the threads of destiny weaving a tapestry that stretched across the ages.

In the midst of it all, Hades and Persephone continued to find joy in the simple pleasures of life. They reveled in the beauty of the Underworld's landscapes, danced under the light of a thousand moons, and discovered hidden realms that held secrets untold. Their love was a journey, an exploration of the boundless possibilities that eternity offered.

Yet, even in the midst of their idyllic existence, challenges arose. Forces from the depths of the Underworld, ancient and formidable, sought to disrupt the delicate balance of their love. Hades and Persephone faced trials that tested the very foundation of their connection, but in each trial, their love emerged stronger, more resilient.

Together, they faced adversaries and overcame obstacles that threatened the harmony of the Underworld. Hades, once perceived as a fearsome deity, revealed the depth of his compassion and the strength of his love. Persephone, with her gentle yet unwavering spirit, became a beacon of hope for all who traversed the shadowy realms.

Their love story, once confined to the whispers of the Underworld, became a legend that transcended the boundaries of the mortal and immortal realms alike. Mortals sang songs of their enduring love, poets crafted verses in their honor, and artists immortalized their images on canvas.

As the centuries passed, the Underworld transformed into a realm of balance and harmony. The once desolate landscapes bloomed with vibrant flora, and the river Styx flowed with a gentle serenity. Hades and Persephone, hand in hand, continued to rule the Underworld with grace and wisdom, their love a testament to the eternal dance of life and death.

>>>

any feedback, like or reblog is always welcome!

okay-dokey! this was a request by @victoria-styles!

i hope you like it!

my masterlist

taglist: @freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @me-undiscovered @tbsloneely @whoreonmondays @kathb59 @avalentina @kittenhere @speedywritingharrystylesjudge @mypolicemanharryyy @theendx888 @ladscarlett

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow Chapter 1

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

Next chapter

Steve prided himself on his self control. He was a Beta before the super soldier serum, and when his body went through the transformation so did his classification. Not only did he have to learn how to operate his new body but as a new Alpha he had to learn how to handle the intense emotions and instincts that came with it. He’d been able to work through most of it without endangering any Omegas along the way. Anytime a moment of weakness chipped at his psyche the words of Dr. Erskine would rattle his brain: “…you must promise me that you will stay who you are. Not a perfect soldier. But a good man.” Good men, good Alphas, did not attack or take what they wanted from others. Steve was well aware of the plight of Omegas in the world. If there was one thing that had stayed consistent throughout his long life it was that Omegas were still considered “less” by many, something to be bred and fulfill Alphas’ needs. He didn’t feel this way, but knew many others did.

After returning the Infinity stones he had gone to see Peggy in the past for closure, but did not stay. As much as he wanted to, he just couldn’t. He loved her, but she was also an Alpha, and same classification couples never worked out.  Bucky needed him, and a promise of “’til the end of the line” was a promise. He had helped transition Sam into the Captain America role and quickly retired, only advising on missions rather than taking the lead. He tried to reintegrate back into regular civilian life, finding his next adventure. He wanted to move on from Peggy and find an Omega to settle down and have a family with.

So far he had no luck. He had started going by his middle name, Grant, and had grown out his beard and hair again so he wasn’t as recognizable as “Captain America” anymore. The dates he’d gone on had been unsuccessful. Omegas were hard to come by nowadays, and to find one willing to even go on a date was even harder. He felt like he was being a gentleman, not expecting anything from them other than to get to know them and see if it was worth pursuing, but he could feel the anxiety and tension dripping from their scents every time. He couldn’t blame them, but it also made him feel like the magic or allure of a great romance that he was looking for to replace his feelings for Peggy was a pipe dream.

One late Autumn night as he left Bucky’s apartment and headed home he smelled something that made him skid to a stop. Amongst the carved pumpkins and crisp Autumn air was something tantalizing, mouth-watering, and made the hair on the back of his neck raise in anticipation. His body moved towards the smell without him even realizing, his nose held high as he followed the scent down a block and into an old fashioned jazz club. It reminded him of the old dance halls of the 1940s, a live band playing on a stage with tables skirting the walls, making a small circle in the middle for couples to dance. There were vintage Halloween decorations lining the walls and the bar.  He made a mental note to tell Bucky about this place as the scent grew stronger and he blindly walked toward the stage.

“My lovelies!” A drag queen’s deep voice boomed into the microphone. She was dressed in an extravagant vampire costume, and as Steve looked around he noticed almost everyone was dressed in some type of Halloween themed costume or vintage clothes.  “Thank you for coming to tonight’s Autumn Jazz Fest!  Last but certainly not least, is our very own…Emerald Hallow!” The drag queen gave a great flourish with her arm and the curtain behind her opened to reveal the singer. Steve’s heart stuttered as the Alpha in him awoke. She was the scent he followed.  An unmated Omega.  The singer was short and plus size, her voluptuous curves slightly jiggling as she sauntered up to the vintage looking microphone.  She wore a long, flowy, shimmering velvet black dress with sheer lace sleeves that opened wide at her wrists with tassels swaying as she swung her arms, tattoos peeking out from the lace.  The neckline plunged down deep between her large breasts, giving the audience quite the view.  Her long nails were pointy and painted black, gently twisting the tassels as she adjusted the microphone to her height.  She had dyed emerald green hair that was long and finger-waved with two large victory rolls atop.  She wore gold earrings that had deep red hearts with what looked like blood dripping from them, black lipstick and sharp cat-eye eyeliner.  The black lipstick made her teeth look striking as she smiled seductively when the audience clapped for her.  Steve swore under his breath.  She was one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen. 

“Happy almost-Halloween, my pretties!” she greeted them, some people in the audience whooping and hollering for her.  Steve could feel a growl rumble in his chest at the attention she was getting from others, and mentally chastised himself for losing his composure.  “Would you like to hear some spooky tunes?”  Some more clapping and whooping made her smile wider.  “Okay, okay, I’ll give it to you…so needy,” she teased the audience, winking at someone off to the side.  Steve moved closer to the stage, just off to the side as the band behind her started playing.  She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, opening them again as her body started to move to the beat.  “They say that I’m a witch, and that I weave a spell.  Well…”

Emerald danced with her hips and shoulders like singers of old would.  Her scent became heavier to Steve as she did something she obviously loved, and it made his Alpha instincts scream at him to claim her.  He sat himself in a chair at one of the nearest tables, needing to hide his growing erection.

She held out the last note, her voice ringing out as the band hit a big chord at the end and she raised her arms.  The audience cheered loudly, the couples who had been dancing stopped to join in on the applause.  Emerald bowed and acknowledged the band behind her.  Steve clapped and watched her closely.   He was clocking all the Alphas in the audience, making note of the ones who were unmated and watching her like he was.  It made him feel like a creep, but something deep within him was not willing to just walk out and go home.  He was stuck to the spot, and would wait all night if he had to just to get a moment with her.  

She sang a few more songs then suddenly pulled out a chair from behind the piano.  “I’ve got one more for you tonight,” she said.  The audience whined loudly.  “Aaaww, are you gonna miss me?” she teased, sticking her lip out sadly.  She smirked as she set the chair in the middle of the stage and took the microphone out of the stand to freely walk around.  “I’m gonna need a big, strong Alpha volunteer,” she said in a low, seductive voice.  As her eyes swept the crowd multiple loud voices yelled out, hands raising and Alphas standing up from their chairs.  Steve stayed seated, desperately wanting her to choose him but not wanting to come off that way.  He decided to let his instincts take over for just a moment and let off a pheromone scent of himself towards her.  As her eyes continued to look out at the crowd they subtly widened and her back stiffened as her eyes instantly went to him.  Her eyes flashed as she gazed at him, and her smirk deepened.  Steve felt like the air between them was buzzing as he held her gaze, not daring to look away.

“You,” she pointed at him and then curled her finger, gesturing to him to come up.  Steve slowly got up and followed the stairs up to the stage.  There was a chorus of disappointed noises mixed with clapping from the audience as he approached her.  “Take a seat, handsome,” she said, patting the top of the chair.  Steve sat on the chair and looked up at her, memorizing every feature of her face.  “What’s your name?” she asked, standing closer to him and holding the microphone to his face.

“S–Grant,” Steve said, clearing his throat after nearly slipping up on his name.

Emerald eyed him but her smile never faltered.  “Grant.  Everybody say ‘Hello Grant!’”  She held the microphone out to the audience who chanted back at her in greeting him.  “And what do you do, Grant?”

“Consulting,” Steve said automatically, a polite smile on his face as he warred with himself not to reach out and touch her.

“How vague…” Emerald said cheekily, raising her eyebrows and making the crowd laugh.  “It’s alright, keep your secrets, handsome,” she said as she walked behind him then ran her hand over his shoulder and down his chest, her chin resting on his opposite shoulder, making them cheek to cheek.  “I like a man who is mysterious…” 

Steve let out a shuddering breath as the jittery energy he felt from her touching him flowed through his veins.  His shoulders and chest felt like they were doused with ice water where she touched him, and his cheek warmed as he blushed with her so close.  The Alpha howled at him to take her, right there in front of everyone, making his hands shake as he quickly folded them together and covered his crotch with his entwined fists.

“Can I sing this last song to you, Grant?” she said, her lips slightly grazing his ear, her hot breath making him shiver.  Steve didn’t trust his voice so he slightly looked towards her and nodded.  “Thank you,” she said, then moved away and turned to the band.  “Shall we, lovies?”

“We shall!” the band called back to her, then counted themselves in.  The melody started into a song Steve actually recognized from some music Sam had recommended to him.

Emerald walked towards the edge of the stage where Steve had walked up and then turned towards him sharply.  “Well it’s a marvelous night for a moondance with the stars up above in your eyes,” she sang, her shoulders keeping the beat.  “A fantabulous night to make romance ‘neath the cover of October skies,” she continued, twirling around and turning towards the bass player behind her, giving her a wink before facing Steve again.  “And all the leaves on the trees are falling to the sound of the breezes that blow.  You know I'm tryin' to please to the calling of your heartstrings that play soft and low.”  She stepped slowly towards him, her eyes never leaving his face.  “And the night’s magic seems to whisper and hush.  You know the soft moonlight seems to shine in your blush!”  The band suddenly picked up, the sound swelling around Steve.  Emerald smiled widely.  “Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?”  She quickly closed the distance between them and leaned down, her hand reaching out and cupping his jaw, making him move toward her.  Steve’s eyes widened.  “Can I just make some more romance with a-you, my love?”  She leaned forward as she held his face and nuzzled her nose against his nose.  As the chorus ended she released him and turned, jutting her hips towards him as they rocked to the beat.

“Well I wanna make love to you tonight, I can’t wait til the morning has come,” she sang, looking over her shoulder at him.  He shifted in the seat, his pants feeling even more tight.  “And I know now the timing is just right and straight into my arms you will run,” she walked behind him again, her hand doing as it had done before but this time running down his arm and squeezing his bicep.  “And when you come my heart will be waiting to make sure that you’re never alone.”  She walked around him again until she faced him, then sank down into his lap.  “There and then all my dreams will come true dear, there and then I will make you my own.”  Steve’s hands gripped her hip and her knee to keep her planted on his lap, his hands still shaking at the close proximity and at getting to finally touch her even just a little.  She wrapped her free arm around his shoulder to keep herself upright.

“And every time I touch you, you just tremble inside,” her nails gently scraped against the scent gland on his neck, making him gasp and his mouth drop open as he watched her.  “And I know how much you want me that,” she winked at him, bringing her face slightly closer to his, “you can’t hide.”

Steve’s eyebrows knitted together.  He was sure his face was showing nothing but pure desire right now, and couldn’t find it in himself to care.  His grip on her tightened and he swallowed thickly.

“Can I just have one more moondance with you, my love?”  Her fingers moved up and ran through his hair, scratching his scalp, causing his eyelids to flutter shut at the massage.  “Can I just make some more romance with a-you…” she held the note out as she pulled him closer, this time making them nose to nose.  The audience was whooping and hollering again, a chant of “Kiss him!” coming through the crowd as the music paused to build tension.  She stared Steve down, her eyes flickering to his lips once then back up to his eyes.  Steve was breathing heavily, waiting to see what she would do.  After a long beat she dipped her head and kissed the side of his mouth, just out of reach of his lips.  The audience was a mix of cheers and disappointed groans as she pulled away and licked her lips as she looked at him again before lifting the microphone back up to her mouth.  “My love,” she sang the last line softly, and as the band finished with a jazzy ending she rested her forehead against his forehead as she caught her breath.  Steve didn’t want it to end, holding her firmly against him as the music ended and the audience applause nearly deafened him.  He didn’t want this bubble to burst, this magical moment to end, and yet his hands slipped away when she shifted to stand from his lap.  

Emerald adjusted her dress and stood then took his hand and helped lift him from the chair, holding his hand up in hers high and then gesturing with their joined hands to bow.  Steve bowed with her and plastered a polite smile on his face as he watched her smile widen at the crowd.  “Whoo, is it hot in here or is it just me?” She joked, making everyone laugh again as they continued to clap.  “Everybody give it up for our lucky man, Grant!”  Another round of applause erupted as Steve nodded, a shy smile pulling at his mouth.  She pulled his hand towards her and opened her arms for a hug.  Steve happily ducked down to her embrace, his arms resting on her lower back as her free hand gripped his shoulder.  Her face slightly twisted and her lips were by his ear again.  “Meet me at the back door, ten minutes,” she whispered.  Steve nodded minutely before pulling away.  She released him and clapped for him as well as he waved a hand and stepped down from the stage.

As the drag queen who hosted came back out and closed the show Steve grabbed a shot at the bar, paid, then left through the front door.  He quickly rounded the building, down the alley, until he reached the back of the building.  He found the back door and leaned up against the wall next to it to wait.  He didn’t know what would happen next, but if she wanted to see him afterwards then the magical moment must have meant something to her, too.  Eight minutes went by until the door swung open and his green haired beauty emerged.

Her eyes quickly found him and she smirked.  “Grant,” she greeted him, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Emerald,” Steve greeted her back, pushing himself off the wall.  “Though I’m guessing that’s not your name.”

“You guessed right,” she said.  “Though it seems we’re both using different names, Steve Rogers.”

Steve’s eyes widened and his smile fell.  He quickly cleared his throat and looked down.  “That obvious, huh?”

“Probably not to the average person,” she said as she took a step toward him.  “But most people haven’t had a grandparent that was a huge fan of Captain America like I did, who took me to the Smithsonian any chance he got to educate me about the great Steve Rogers and the Howling Commandos.  I’d recognize those eyes anywhere,” she quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Though I have to say, I like the longer hair and beard look.  Makes you much more ruggedly handsome.”

Steve’s smile returned and he blushed at her compliment.  “Ruggedly handsome?”

“Oh yes,” she smiled widely at him.  She took another step toward him, making her look up at him.  She analyzed his face for a moment before she sighed heavily.  “Dirty trick you played in there, using your scent on me,” she said quietly, her smile falling.

Steve’s eyebrows raised in surprise.  “Oh, um…I’m sorry,” he said quickly, embarrassed that although it worked in getting him noticed and chosen, she was obviously not happy with him about it.  

“Hm,” she hummed, looking him over.  “I was going to choose you regardless, you know?” she said, reaching a hand out and running her fingers over the lining of his coat.  “I scented you from the moment you walked in,” she said, her fingers sliding up towards his collar.  “A Manhattan cocktail, with an undertone of sandalwood and amber,” she met his gaze again.  “And a hint of petrichor.”

“Petrichor?” Steve asked, his eyes never leaving her fingers that gripped his collar lightly.

“The smell after a long awaited rain,” she whispered.  She pulled him down by his collar and guided his face towards her neck.  Steve’s arms wrapped around her like he was hugging her, his grip pulling her flush against him as he nuzzled his nose against her scent gland inhaling deeply.  He felt like he was skipping a lot of steps in the process.  Scenting another person was extremely personal, and not something done by strangers like this.  “You obviously came here for this,” she said as he rubbed the tip of his nose against her neck.

Steve groaned, getting drunk off the scent that nearly drove him crazy enough to lose control.  She gave it up so easily to him.  “Fuck…” he whispered as his tongue licked along the gland, nipping lightly at her skin.  Her fingers tightened around his coat, a soft whimper falling from her lips.  “I couldn’t tell what it was, but…” he sniffed again, his eyes rolling.  “Bergamot, rose, and sandalwood.  Like the perfumes I used to smell back in the day,” he said as his lips traveled to her jaw and then kissed her cheek softly.  “With a hint of ocean air,” he smirked at her as he pulled away to look at her.  Her eyes were hooded as she looked back up at him, her mouth open as she breathed heavily.  “Your name?” he asked.

She huffed a silent laugh as she smiled.  “Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N,” Steve repeated it, liking the way it felt on his tongue.  

Her smile tightened.  “We should slow down.”

“We should,” Steve agreed, but didn’t let go of her.

She pulled away a little, which almost felt like a punch to his gut.  Y/N looked up at him and mischievously grinned.  “How about you take me out and show me some of that old school charm?  And we’ll see where that leads us.”

Steve chuckled at that, his smile widening.  “You took the words right out of my mouth.  Though it sounds much more smooth coming from you.”

“I can be smooth when I wanna be,” she giggled.  She gave him another look over then stepped back, reaching for and holding one of his hands while fishing out her phone from her coat pocket.  She unlocked the phone and handed it to him.  Steve quickly pulled his phone out and gave it to her as well and they exchanged numbers.  

“I’ll call you,” Steve said as he made sure to save her contact information.

“You better,” Y/N smirked.  She pulled him down by his collar again and kissed the side of his mouth, making him growl impatiently.  It only made her laugh as she stepped out of his reach.  “See you around, Steve,” she said his name in her seductive voice that she used on stage.  

Steve sighed heavily and composed himself.  “See you soon, Y/N.” She walked to the back door and knocked in a pattern, then the bass player walked out, giving her and Steve a once over and scoffing before walking towards one of the cars parked along the back alley.  Y/N waved to Steve then followed the band member, who drove off with her.  Steve watched until she was out of sight then laughed to himself.  This is going to be interesting.

This is the "dirtiest" fic I've written so far. I'm not usually a #stucky fan, but I thought I'd give a crack at it. Hope y'all like it!

[augustjustice]

You're the One that I Want

@steddie-week prompts: dizzy, drunken confessions @stevieweek prompt: girls night @steddiemicrofic prompt: one | wc: 1111 words rating: T | tags: transfem steve harrington, platonic stobin, sleepovers, phone calls, love confessions

AO3 Link

When the phone rang right around eleven, Eddie had to admit he was sort of surprised.

Not that he was any stranger to nighttime phone calls. One caller in particular had become something of a regular, post-nightmare soothing sessions in the first weeks after Spring Break soon morphing into inane chats about anything and everything. 

But he knew she was busy tonight.

Eddie had been quick to learn, once he’d gotten closer to the Upside Down crew, that weekly Steve and Robin Nights were a sacred tradition. Ever since Stevie came out, the title had transformed into Girls Night, much like their very own lovely jock herself. 

The importance of the day, however, remained the same.

And, it being Thursday, Eddie definitely didn’t expect to hear from her tonight. 

Crossing the trailer, he mused over who it might be instead. Gareth, maybe, since he was still sorting out the kinks of his drum solo in Corroded Coffin’s latest song. 

“Joe’s Pool Hall,” Eddie chirped when he picked up. “We rack ‘em and stack ‘em so you don’t have to!”

“Munson!” Robin’s voice burst out over the line, loud enough Eddie pulled the phone a few inches away from his ear. “Stevie needs to tell you something!”

In the background, he could hear Stevie’s muffled Robbie, nooo.

“Stevie-Evie, come on! Tell him, tell him, tell him.” The speed at which Robin chanted her words left them slurred, tripping over each other. “Exactly what you told me. It’s like–sleepover law. You gotta.”

From the shrieks and incomprehensible arguing that broke out after, Eddie could surmise they’d fallen into a drunken scuffle.

Finally, Stevie’s voice rang out from the receiver. “Hi, Eds!” 

The happiness in her tone made actual butterflies erupt in his stomach. Goddamn, he was such a mess for this girl. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” Eddie answered, twirling the cord around one finger. “Sounds to me like you two lovely ladies are having a fun night.”

“Oh, yeah, totally. We totally were. But then Robin,” in her inebriated state, Stevie put extra emphasis on the end of her best friend’s name, “got this bright idea to play, like. All the girls’ sleepover games I missed out on because…well, you know.”

Though Stevie sounded put-out now, Eddie had no doubt the suggestion had delighted her. Indescribable fondness for both girls swelled in his chest. 

“That right? What game are you at–prank call the hottest future rock star you know?” 

“No, sillyhead!” Stevie tittered.

Eddie could practically see her, smile bright and nose scrunched up adorably. The image was so distracting, he almost missed Stevie’s next words. 

“I’m s’posed to call…” she dropped into a hushed whisper, the crinkling sound the receiver made suggesting she had cupped her hand around the phone, “my biggest crush!”

The sentence hit Eddie like a truck, nearly incomprehensible. He felt dizzy with it, the bottom of his stomach dropping out the same way it had on the Gravitron at last year’s Fourth of July Fun Fair. 

“S-Sorry, uh,” he stuttered out, “bad connection, I think. You know how shitty the service down at Forest Park can be. Cuz, for a second, I almost thought you said–”

But Stevie barrelled on, as though he hadn’t said anything at all.

“You’re the one that I want!” she sang out.

Her voice carried all the passion and fervor as the times she was alone in the car with Eddie, taunting him with her favorite new pop hit, or when she and Robin were goofing off, having a dance off after hours at work. Eddie could hear it when Robin joined in for the follow-up chorus of Ooh, ooh, ooh, honey!

The absurdity of it made Eddie cackle, momentarily distracted from the racing of his heart. 

“Harrington…did you seriously just sing Grease at me?” 

“I did not!” Stevie protested. 

Eddie wouldn’t have been surprised if she had punctuated that claim with a stamp of her foot. But she followed it up with a little hmph, contemplative. 

“–Well, yeah, okay. So what if I did? That-that isn’t the point. The point is…I want you, Eddie Munson.”

He gulped against the nervousness welling up in his throat. “Princess…you’re actually serious right now, right? This isn’t just, you know…the booze talking?”

“‘Course I’m serious, Eds. Don’t know how you didn’t notice–Robin said my mooning was getting so annoying. But that’s only cuz I’m like…totally in love with you, to be honest.” 

It wasn’t as eloquent and romantic, Eddie suspected, as a sober Stevie Harrington love confession would have been–but, heart flipping in his chest, he cherished it just as much. 

“Oh. Well, shit. Looks like…I better shape up, then.” 

And even though he knew what he was about to do would make him sound completely ridiculous–he couldn’t help but smile, knowing it would be totally worth it. 

So, Eddie took a deep breath and belted back, “Cuz my heart is set on you!”

“Eddie!” Stevie gasped like he had just performed a magic trick. “You know Grease?!”

“Stevie, you gotta swear you’re gonna take that one to your grave. But…sure I do, darling. You think I wouldn’t go out and see one of your favorite movies?”

“Really?”

The excitement in her voice was tempered by a sudden hint of shyness, the kind she usually hid behind a bold, confident exterior. Eddie knew exactly what that was like–and he felt lucky, that Stevie trusted him enough to let him see the vulnerability underneath.  

“Really really. I’m gone for you, Stevie. Have been for…well, hell. A really long damn time.”

Stevie sighed, lovelorn and wistful.

“Me, too.”

Eddie was really glad he wasn’t the one that was drunk right now, or he might have suspected he was dreaming.

“Wanted to tell you for so long–” But whatever sweet thing Stevie had been about to say was cut off, as she suddenly huffed into the phone. “Oh my God, okay! I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying!”

“All good over there?” 

“Sorry. Robin says I’m hogging the phone,” Eddie could practically hear her eye roll, before her tone turned mischievous. “Besides…now it’s her turn to call Vickie. Talk tomorrow?”

“Wouldn’t miss it, Stevie. See you bright and early.” Bright and early for Eddie usually meant around noon, but, for this, he was willing to make an exception. “And tell Buck–I owe her one.”

You’re welcome! he heard Robin sing-song just before Stevie hung up, evidence she’d probably been listening in on every word. 

As he wandered back to his bedroom in a daze, 11:11 blinked at him from the digital alarm clock on his bedside table.

Eddie didn’t even need to make a wish.

Travolta and his flying car had nothing on him. 

[ornii]

Bitterly Beautiful: Family Ties

Ireland

(Y/n) and Wednesday, a love story as old as time. Winter break had finally reached Nevermore and (Y/n) made a suggestion, to visit Ireland and for his bride to meet his family. Wednesday being the old fashion woman she is, she couldn’t say no.

A massive old ship sailed across the sea, being piloted by not humans but beings that ceased to exist, skeletons. All remains of pirates once plundering the seas for their fill now in service to the Healy name. Wednesday found this most fascinating, her eyes dance along the deck of the ship as she stands with (Y/n), he points to the Captian moving the ship with the wheel.

“You see the Captian and his crew died to a kraken if you could believe it. Tore their ship from the sea to the bottom of the ocean.” He explained, and Wednesday stared at their moving bones, flesh barely visible under the ragged clothes. “Fascinating.. Rigor mortis obviously has set in but their bodies seem to reject the stiffness.”

“Is that all you got from my story?” He replied.

“It’s all that I care to listen to.” She responded. A small laugh came from (Y/n). “I love you too Wednesday.” He steps forward with his cane and she follows. “My family is a bit more.. bombastic than yours.” He started, “So it might be a bit.. uncomfortable at first but they mean well..”

“As long as they don’t touch me, all will be well.” Her response was expected, but not particularly hated either. (Y/n) inhaled and turned around to the front of the ship.

“We’re here, the Rock of Cashel.” Wednesday turned as well, her eyes gazing upon a massive castle of limestone and rock. “It’s.. impressive.” She said, and he stepped up next to her. “Nice Family heirloom which I’ll eventually take over, I can give you the tour when we dock.. but I think my family wants to at least say hello because you recluse yourself.” He replied. Wednesday slightly pouts but goes with it. Docking at the waters near the castle, now more monsters. Oddly short human like people. They carted and carried their bags and belongings into the castle as (Y/n) and Wednesday sit and ride carriage upwards to the castle.

“Leprechauns?” She asked.

“Nope, Puca. Little known monsters here.” He responded, “They can transform into animals, sly little things.” (Y/n) leaned forward and looked in the direction of Wednesday.

“Admittedly, I didn’t expect you to say yes to visiting my family. Especially since it’s in a castle in a completely different continent.” He cracked a smile, but Wednesday kept a calm demeanor. “You handled my family exceptionally well, even with their.. issues. It’s only fair that I do the same for you.” She explained, she could see the gears turning in (Y/n)’s head as she says this, something was hidden under his smile but he kept it.

The duo arrive at the gate of the castle, which slowly opens the heavy wooden doors. The large hefty foyer looks right out of the 13th century. Paintings of battles of gods and men, marble statues of men and women chiseled. Tapestry of the Bloodline in perfect etching detail, all of it truly felt otherworldly.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” He said, Wednesday’s eyes scanned along the walls. “Admittedly it is.. do you have torture chamber as well?”

“That’s…” he started to speak but the sudden boom of footsteps approaching halted his speech, Wednesday and (Y/n) turned to the origin of the sound, the deep dark hallway which was lit barely but the encroaching flames of torches, Wednesday watches as a massive Fomorian titan stormed out of the hall. She took a step back and was prepared to run or fight. She looks to (Y/n) who wasn’t particularly changed by the presence.

“(Y/n) if you couldn’t hear there’s a towering monster before us!” She gripped his wrist and he tilts his head in her direction.

“I know, and it isn’t funny Aunt.” He said, the monster groans and pouts.

“I just wanted to see if the lass was as ice cold as you always said she was.” The monsters voice was booming, but also a feminine tone. Her body began to transform, bones shrinking, skin changing and hair growing, Wednesday was baffled and somehow amazed to watch the human body transform. A burly woman stood before her, hefty red hair and a strong jawline but a porcelain face. Her dress was a deep blue and hefty dress with a wolf fur coat around the neckline.

“Pale little thing isn’t she?” The woman leaned in, her lively emerald green eyes collided with Wednesdays cold and emotionally dead dark black eyes. “She isn’t pale she’s just.. you know.” (Y/n) mumbled, the woman offers a firm handshake, taking Wednesdays had without her say and shaking it strongly, Wednesday was taken aback by her terrifyingly firm grasp but soft skin. “Right, no sunlight.” Wednesday stepped back to avoid being hugged and crushed by the woman. “Wednesday, this is Aunt Dian.” (Y/n) steps in between them.

Wednesday stared at the woman, not able to form an accurate response to what she’s seeing. “Yes.. indeed.” Wednesday replied, and Dian turned around, “Alright! Now to your chambers, and you two won’t be sharing a room. Show her the way.” She eyes (Y/n) who acts as if he isn’t paying attention. The woman casually strolls away as the two head deeper into the castle.

“Why is she so… large?” Wednesday asked, “Genetics, reincarnation tends to have adverse effects on how your body functions and reforms. Dian was the God of Medicine here.” He tilts slightly to Wednesday, “There’s something I want to show you.” He said, “Much more interesting than a bedchamber.”

The two stroll out the hearty woods past the castle to a forest. A few spots of clearing were there but still surrounded thick trees.

“This place was a battle ground, graveyard I believe. Legend says you can hear the wails of the dead at night though the forest trees.”

“Was that legend created by you?” She ask sarcastically. “I mean… for the most part.” He admits, “I appreciate you not trying to kill my aunt when she shook your hand.” He thanks her, and kept walking forward. Wednesday halted in her footsteps and he turned to her direction.

“I’ll admit it took everything in my power to not succumb to death at her touch. It’s not like I could have escaped her iron grip anyway.” Wednesday adds in, (Y/n) shrugs. “Fair point.. but I’m glad you’re getting along with her, my cousins.. might be a bit more than you can handle.”

“Is that a challenge?”

“No, a warning, they’re kids they don’t know any better.” He gently took her hand, sensing her unwary gaze. “Something’s bothering you.. what is it?” He leaned in, Wednesday wanted to speak freely but, it felt like her lips were bound by a spell, and couldn’t form the words to speak.

The sudden pick up of wind cut off their moment, feeling the odd force of air current against them. Leaves spiraled and danced around them. “That’s… not good.”

“Are spinning leaves a bad omen?”

“No, but it’s just weird.” His response was calm, but wary. Wednesday looked around as the leaves rested and something caught her eye. “(Y/n).” She spoke, “There’s.. a body.”

“A..Body?” He turned to her direction and took a hearty step, the echo formed a wave to bounce sound off, and he felt it on the ground. The two slowly walked towards it. They came across a corpse on the ground, still and unmoving. “It feels like a woman..” (Y/n) knelt down with Wednesday.

“Black hair, late teens. She seems to have some sharp object in her hand, but her hand is, oddly stiff.. her body doesn’t look too cold to allow rigor mortis to set in.” Wednesday said, “Do you know her?”

“No, the servants aren’t human…” he reached and touched her neck, feeling a faint but warm pulse. “She’s alive… perhaps she’s sleeping.”

“Sleeping in the woods behind a castle?” Wednesday replied. “Well when you put it that way..” (Y/n) mumbled. “I’ll just wake her up.”

“Are you sure? All circumstances point to this ending very poorly for you.” Wednesday points out, “We help people Wednesday.. would be wrong of me to leave her here, plus you’re overthinking.”

(Y/n) gently placed his fingers on her forehead, his middle and pointer finger poking the center of her brow. “Eirich bhon aisling gun chrìoch” he spoke a spell and the woman’s eyes slowly opened. (Y/n) confidently turned to Wednesday. “See not a problem—“

Before (Y/n) could confidently tell his girlfriend, the strange woman moves with blinding speed, the sharp object rammed straight between his fourth and fifth rib. It was so fast (Y/n) didn’t have time to even react before falling back and gripping the blade, Wednesday blinked and the next thing she knew he was on the ground in pain. Rushing to his side she saw the knife and held it. “Calm down.. panicking makes you loose more blood. Relax and take a deep breath.” Wednesday caressed his forehead, and with a swift motion yanks the blade from his chest. (Y/n) quickly put his hand on his wound to slow the bleeding. The mystery woman wasn’t angry or sad, she was stunned at what she did, her glossy eyes looked over to the two and immediate guilt washed over her.

“Holy.. shit. I am so sorry!” She pleads, Wednesday turns to her with nothing but cold dead hatred. “I should fill your eyes with hot coals for what you’ve done.” Wednesday rarely shows emotion, but what she does it’s intense, and nothing is more intense than hate.

“It’s fine.. I’m.. fine..” (Y/n) sits up, “Just need.. to get home.. okay?” He asked Wednesday, she turned to the girl. “If you truly are sorry then you’ll help us.. after that.. we’ll see.” Wednesday began to help (Y/n) up, and the mystery girl did as well and essentially carried the boy back home.

Wednesday finished the last seam of her sewing the wound shut as (Y/n) bared his chest and lifted his arms up in her room. Sitting at a desk and across from each other the partners were silent, (Y/n) with pain and Wednesday with worry. The mysterious girl was leaning against a wall, fiddling with her fingers and obviously embarrassed.

“Again… I am.. so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it, isn’t the first time I’ve been stabbed or shot.” (Y/n) shrugs, “just a new scar that my girlfriend finds pretty hot huh?” He tilts his head to Wednesday, who looks away trying to keep her composure.

“Your stab wasn’t deep enough to puncture the heart thankfully, but you knew how to stab in between the ribs and the right place to land a fatal blow, impressive.” She admits. The girl smiled, even if she was fighting back guilt. “Oh uh, thanks.. my mom taught me a lot, honestly I was scared to death I killed you.. my hair allowed went white, it’s.. black so you would have noticed..” she said, which was a major screw up.

(If you knew why, congrats.)

“Why did you say that?” Wednesday said, the girl raised an eyebrow. “Uh.. what do you mean?” She asked dumbfounded. She slowly stood up, grabbing a pair of scissors.

“You pointed out your hair color as if you knew one of us couldn’t see it…” Wednesday pointed out, which made (Y/n) raise his eyebrow, he slowly turns to the direction of the girl.

“She’s right.. I didn’t have my cane and my glasses are pretty normal.. how did you know I was blind?” He said, and a look of utter panic was on her face.

“You knew who we were, and you attacked..” Wednesday took a step closer.

“I’m sure you have some explanation.. right?” (Y/n) also stood up, and the girl sighed and shook her head.

“Dad’s gonna kill me…” she sighed and looked up at them. “Okay… my name, Is Fall Monday Healy.”

(Y/n)’s face twists to confusion. “.. Who?” He asked in disbelief and Fall gave an awkward and sad smile, “I’m from the future… so.. Hi Mom, Hi Dad.” She looks at them. (Y/n) and Wednesday turn to each other, it seems this break has taken a very interesting turn.

[aifanfictions]

Write a story about (y/n) being the Phantomhive maid who helps Ciel and Sebastian with their cases and after going to the undertaker for information, Undertaker starts to slowly fall in love with (y/n)

Whims of the Reaper

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, (Y/N) continued her diligent work as the ever-graceful maid of the distinguished household. Each day, the bond with Ciel and Sebastian grew stronger, and her efficiency in managing the grand estate reached new heights. But, little did she know, the eccentric storm was brewing, ready to unravel the calm of her structured life.

The peculiar tale began on a foggy evening when a case took Ciel Phantomhive, the young Earl, and his loyal demon butler, Sebastian, to the Funeral Parlor run by the enigmatic Undertaker. The mortician had an unyielding fascination with death, and his macabre sense of humor was as peculiar as his profession. As they stepped into the dimly lit parlor, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a shiver down her spine. The Undertaker's peculiar aura was impossible to ignore.

Undertaker emerged from the shadows with a dramatic flair, a morbid chuckle escaping his lips. His eyes, the color of a stormy sea, gleamed with twisted interest as he welcomed his guests. "Ah, young Phantomhive and Sebastian! What brings you to my humble establishment today?"

With an air of mystery and mischief, Ciel explained the nature of their case, and Undertaker was immediately engrossed. His odd commentary, a unique blend of the morbid and the surreal, left (Y/N) both intrigued and baffled. Her wide eyes darted from Undertaker to her young master and his butler, trying to make sense of it all.

As the conversation continued, Undertaker's fascination with their case was overshadowed by his growing intrigue in the unassuming Phantomhive maid. (Y/N) stood near the door, her presence both calm and bewitched by the eccentricities she was witnessing.

Undertaker couldn't help but be drawn to her. There was something about the way she furrowed her brow at his oddities, her innocence contrasting his morbid world. He longed to unravel the mysteries of her heart just as he did with the souls that came into his care.

When the business was concluded, Ciel and Sebastian prepared to leave. Undertaker's eyes, however, were no longer on the Phantomhive Earl but on the Phantomhive maid who stood near the door.

Approaching (Y/N), he leaned closer, his breath chillingly cool on her ear. "You, my dear, are not like the others who grace my parlor. You see, I find your innocence utterly captivating."

(Y/N) blinked in surprise, her cheeks flushing slightly. "Thank you, sir, but I must be going now."

Undertaker's laughter danced with an eerie melody. "Oh, my dear, I hope to see more of you in the future. There is something truly delightful about your presence amidst all this death."

As (Y/N) stepped out of the Funeral Parlor, she couldn't shake the feeling that Undertaker was unlike anyone she'd ever met. His eccentricity and morbid fascination were a stark contrast to the life she led at the Phantomhive Manor. Yet, there was a curiosity in her heart, a yearning to understand the mysteries that lay beneath his peculiar exterior.

Unbeknownst to (Y/N), Undertaker's interest in her had awakened a dormant side of his own heart. His fascination for death and the unknown was slowly eclipsed by a desire to understand the living, to grasp the complexities of human emotion, and to delve into the enchanting depths of (Y/N)'s soul.

As the days passed, (Y/N)'s encounters with Undertaker became more frequent. His visits to the Phantomhive Manor, each more eccentric than the last, would soon become a peculiar routine. His fondness for tea parties, during which he regaled (Y/N) with tales of the dearly departed, gradually transformed into moments of lighthearted banter and shared laughter.

The Phantomhive household watched with varying degrees of amusement and concern as Undertaker, the eccentric mortician, attempted to court the Phantomhive maid with a perplexing mix of macabre curiosity and eccentric charm. While Ciel and Sebastian were ever watchful of the maid's safety, they couldn't deny the curious bond that seemed to be forming.

Undertaker's heart, hidden beneath layers of eccentricity and morbidity, began to beat in a way it hadn't for centuries. And for (Y/N), the journey was equally baffling and captivating, as she found herself inexplicably drawn to the reaper whose world was as mysterious as the afterlife itself.

Each tea party with Undertaker brought new tales, bizarre stories that ranged from tragic to utterly absurd. They reveled in laughter, the distinct camaraderie growing between the reaper and the maid, both trapped in a dance of eccentricity that only they could understand.

Yet, there was something that Undertaker couldn't quite put into words. A feeling that defied logic, a longing that went beyond the realm of morbid fascination. He found himself entranced by the way (Y/N) would touch her fingers to her lips when she was lost in thought, or the way her eyes sparkled with innocence when she found his bizarre tales amusing.

His attraction to her was a complex tapestry of desire and intrigue, woven with the threads of both life and death. He couldn't help but wonder what it was about her that had captured his reaper's heart.

(Y/N) too found herself intrigued by the peculiar reaper. She had never met anyone like Undertaker, whose eccentricity was a stark contrast to the rigid world she had known. His stories, while bizarre, held a unique charm, and she couldn't help but feel a strange fondness for the mortician who found delight in death.

Yet, as Undertaker slowly unraveled the enigma that was (Y/N), he couldn't help but wonder if there was room in his heart for a love that was as unconventional as he was. As the days turned into weeks, his courtship of the Phantomhive maid took on a new dimension, a blend of eccentricity and longing that defied the boundaries of life and death.

As the eccentric reaper and the charming maid embarked on this peculiar journey of affection, the Phantomhive Manor witnessed the unfolding of a love story unlike any other. The grand halls that once echoed with secrets were now filled with the whimsical laughter of a reaper who danced with the living and a maid who dared to uncover the mysteries of the afterlife.

And so, amidst the eccentricity and the enigma, Undertaker and (Y/N) were drawn into a love that was as peculiar as it was profound. It was a tale of fascination, an eccentric affection that challenged the conventional understanding of love, and it would continue to unfold with each bizarre tea party and every morbidly delightful encounter.

In the grand halls of the Phantomhive Manor, where secrets and enigmas abounded, the most unconventional love story was in the making, and it would continue to unravel with each tea party, every eccentric tale, and every moment of laughter that defied the boundaries of life and death.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[dee-writes-smut]

SNAPDRAGONS (Chapter Four)

FEATURING Eris Vanserra x pregnant!reader

SUMMARY Eris returns from a council meeting angry and hurt. Something has to give, will it be you or your friendship?

CONTENT WARNINGS angst, verbal abuse, physical abuse, toxic parents, children being forced to parent siblings, grief, loss, kissing, pregnancy, murder, and guilt.

AUTHORS NOTE this is probably one of my favorite and hardest chapters that I’ve had to write so far. The experiences described in this chapter were some I relate to, please, please be careful proceeding. Your mental health is more important!! I love you all, please take care of yourselves and enjoy.

SERIES MASTERLIST

As the evening settled into night, the sky transformed into a tapestry of celestial wonders, a breathtaking display of twinkling stars set against the backdrop of an endless expanse of indigo. The moon, a luminous crescent hanging low on the horizon, cast a soft silver glow over the landscape, bathing the forest in an ethereal light.

Above, the stars shimmered like scattered diamonds strewn across a velvet canvas, their brilliance piercing the darkness with an otherworldly beauty. Constellations danced across the heavens, their intricate patterns weaving tales of ancient lore and forgotten legends.

A gentle breeze stirred the leaves of the surrounding trees, their rustling whispers a melodic accompaniment to the symphony of the night. The air was alive with the chorus of nocturnal creatures, their calls and cries echoing through the stillness, a reminder of the vibrant world that thrived beneath the canopy of branches.

In the distance, the faint flicker of fireflies danced among the foliage, their luminous trails tracing intricate patterns in the night air. And overhead, the Milky Way stretched like a river of stardust, its milky glow a celestial highway leading to worlds beyond imagination.

As you looked out at the vast expanse of the night sky, a sense of awe and wonder washed over you, the beauty of the universe unfolding before your eyes like a timeless symphony. And in that moment, as you gazed up at the heavens with reverence and awe, you felt a profound connection to the world around you.

At 29 weeks pregnant, your movements were slow and deliberate, your swollen belly serving as a gentle reminder of the life growing within you. With each step, you waddled slightly, the weight of your burgeoning bump shifting with every movement.

As you paced the room, a sense of restless anticipation gnawed at your insides, your heart racing with a mixture of excitement and anxiety. Eris had been gone for what felt like an eternity, his absence leaving a void in the room that seemed to echo with his presence.

With each passing moment, the babe within you seemed to share in your impatience, their movements growing increasingly restless as if in anticipation of Eris's return. Tiny kicks and flutters rippled across your abdomen, the sensation both exhilarating and comforting as you waited for him to come back.

You couldn't help but smile at the thought of Eris's reaction when he finally returned, imagining the look of awe and wonder that would cross his face as he felt the baby's kicks for himself.

The minutes stretched into what felt like an eternity, the anticipation of Eris's return weighed heavily on your mind. You paused mid-step, your heart skipping a beat as the sound of footsteps echoed down the hall outside, signaling his imminent arrival.

With bated breath, you turned towards the door, your pulse quickening with each passing moment. The anticipation hung thick in the air, a tangible presence that seemed to fill the room with electric energy.

And then, suddenly, he was there.

The footsteps grew louder, closer, until finally, the door swung open, revealing Eris's tall, imposing figure framed in the doorway. But before you could utter a word of greeting, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of the red mark marring his cheek, a vivid reminder of the altercation he had undoubtedly faced.

You watched in stunned silence as he stormed past you, his expression darkened with anger and frustration. The weight of his emotions hung heavy in the air, casting a shadow over the room that seemed to suffocate the very air around you.

With a sharp motion, he reached for the door to his own chambers, slamming it shut with a resounding thud that reverberated through the walls. The sound echoed in the silence, a stark reminder of the tension that lingered between you.

The suddenness of his actions left you reeling, a knot of worry forming in the pit of your stomach. What had happened to provoke such a reaction? What could have caused him to lash out in such a manner?

But even as the questions swirled in your mind, you knew that now was not the time for answers. With a heavy sigh, you turned back towards the room, the sense of unease lingering in the air like a dark cloud on the horizon.

With a surge of determination, you approached Eris's door, the weight of concern heavy in your chest. Despite the tension that hung thick in the air, you refused to let him shut you out. With each step, you could feel the baby's kicks growing more insistent, as if urging you on in your quest to reach him.

Gathering your resolve, you raised your hand to knock, but before your knuckles could connect with the wood, you hesitated. The memory of his anger, the red mark on his cheek still vivid in your mind, gave you pause. But then, with a deep breath, you steeled yourself and rapped firmly on the door.

"Eris," you called out, your voice steady but laced with concern. "Please, let me in. We need to talk."

No response.

"Please, Eris," you implored, your voice gentle but firm. "Let me in. Whatever happened, we can face it together. You don't have to carry this burden alone."

Nothing.

“You have been so kind and welcoming to me, so accepting of me, and I only wish to do the same for you," you begin, your voice soft but unwavering, the sincerity of your words echoing through the door and into the room beyond. "I won’t judge, I won’t get angry, I just want to listen to you, to let you air out your burdens as you have let me air out mine.”

The warmth of your breath fogs the cool air around you as you continue, the words tumbling from your lips like a gentle stream. “You made this babe fall in love with you and now she won’t leave me alone,” you say with a fond smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you recall the playful arguments you and Eris had shared about the baby's gender.

Memories of warmer afternoons spent amidst the beauty of nature flood your mind, the soft rustle of leaves and the gentle caress of the breeze a soothing backdrop to your conversation. “She’s been kicking the crap out of me all evening, so excited to hear you, to feel you near.”

You pause for a moment, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the air between you. The silence that follows is palpable, filled with the unspoken hope and longing that binds you together. As you stand there, your hand resting gently on your swollen belly, you can't help but feel a sense of peace and utter gratitude for the bond that exists between the three of you.

There was a moment of silence, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves outside the window. But then, after what felt like an eternity, you heard the click of the lock, and the door creaked open ever so slightly.

Peering inside, you could see Eris standing just beyond the threshold, his expression guarded but softened slightly by the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. You met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down, your determination unwavering.

“You should leave. Get out while you can,” he snaps, his voice sharp and cutting as his expression shifted to one of cold indifference. The words hit you like a physical blow, his tone laced with bitterness and venom.

Your heart sinks as you stand before him, the weight of his rejection heavy in the air between you. The babe in your stomach seems to sense the tension, their movements stilling as if in response to the palpable anger that fills the room.

“Eris, you know that we only want to help,” you plead, your voice trembling with emotion as you rub circles over your bump, your other hand instinctively supporting your sore back. But his response is like a dagger to the heart, his dismissiveness cutting deep.

“Please don’t shut me out,” you whisper sadly, the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you implore him to let you in. But he only scoffs in response, his laughter harsh and mocking, echoing through the room like a dark cloud.

The cruelty of his words leaves you reeling, the pain of his rejection twisting in your chest like a knife. You feel as though you’re standing on the precipice of a vast abyss, the chasm between you widening with each passing moment.

“Why not? Why not just do what you do, run away when things get tough, push my burdens onto other people instead of dealing with them myself?” Eris’s voice is filled with bitterness and resentment, his anger boiling over like a storm on the horizon.

But even as he turns away from you with a dismissive wave of his hand, you refuse to give up hope. The love you feel for him burns bright within you, a beacon of light in the darkness that threatens to consume him.

"I'm done talking about this," he declares, retreating into the depths of his chambers and slamming the door shut behind him with a resounding thud. The sound echoes through the empty hallway, a stark reminder of the rift that now lies between you.

Alone in the silence, tears streaming down your cheeks, you vow to fight for him, to break through the walls he has erected and bring him back into the light. Because deep down, you know that your love is stronger than the anger and resentment that threaten to tear you apart. And no matter how dark the night may seem; you refuse to let it extinguish the flame of hope that burns within you.

So, you slink down onto the floor outside his door, stretching your legs out in front of you and continuing to rub soothing circles over your belly.

“My mother wasn’t a kind woman,” you began, the words heavy with the weight of memories long buried. Closing your eyes, you allow the story to unfold before you, the scenes of your past playing out like a haunting melody in the recesses of your mind.

You’re transported back to that cursed cottage, the air thick with the scent of herbs and potions, the walls adorned with strange symbols and trinkets of unknown origin. Your family moves through the dimly lit rooms like shadows, their presence both familiar and suffocating.

But even from a young age, you knew you were different. More emotional, more vulnerable than the rest of your family. While they seemed to thrive in the harsh environment of your home, you struggled to find your place, to fit into the mold they had carved out for you.

“She ruled with an iron fist, demanding obedience and loyalty above all else,” you continue, the memories flooding back with painful clarity. “But no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite meet her expectations.”

The sound of her voice echoed in your ears, sharp and cutting like the crack of a whip. You could feel the weight of her disapproval bearing down on you like a suffocating blanket, her words a constant reminder of your perceived inadequacies.

And so, you forced yourself to become hard, to close yourself off from the pain and hurt that threatened to consume you. You built walls around your heart, steeling yourself against the onslaught of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you at every turn.

“But despite her cruelty, there were moments of tenderness,” you admit, the memories bittersweet in their complexity. “Moments when she would let her guard down, if only for a fleeting instant.”

But those moments were fleeting, like rays of sunlight breaking through the clouds before disappearing once more. And in their absence, you found yourself retreating further into yourself, hiding behind a mask of indifference and stoicism in order to survive.

Yet amidst the chaos and cruelty of your upbringing, there was one duty that fell squarely on your shoulders: the responsibility of raising your two younger siblings. Forced into the role of caregiver at a young age, you bore the weight of their well-being as if it were your own.

The memory of those days weighs heavily on your heart, the burden of caring for your siblings a constant reminder of the sacrifices you made to keep them safe. But even as you carry the scars of your past, you refuse to let them define you, finding strength in the resilience that has carried you through the darkest of times.

As tears welled in your eyes, you can’t help but feel a swell of emotion for the child you once were, forced to grow up too soon in a world that offered little solace or comfort. But even as you grieve for the innocence lost, you find solace in the knowledge that your love for your siblings has endured, a beacon of light in the darkness that has shrouded your past.

“I loved my siblings, fought for those boys that I had raised into good, kind men until their last breaths,” you choke up, the memories of their untimely demise flooding your mind like a torrential downpour. Images of their eviscerated bodies, piled high among others lost in the war against Hybern, haunt your every thought. “And when I lost them, it was the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.”

Tears welled in your eyes as you recall the anguish of that moment, the gut-wrenching agony of knowing that you had failed to protect the ones you loved most. It felt as if your heart was being ripped from your chest, like you were being torn apart slowly from the inside out.

“I had lost my purpose, the only thing in life I knew how to do other than kill,” you continue, your voice trembling with emotion. “That is until I found purpose in trying to save my home court, to save its people more than anything.”

The memories of your journey flooded back with startling clarity, the trials and tribulations that led you to where you are now. And then, almost hesitantly, you speak of the man who changed everything.

“It’s what led me into Lu- into a man's arms, to where I am,” you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. “I never thought I would be able to love again, not like I had loved my brothers, so unconditionally.”

But then, like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, you found out you were pregnant. And in that moment, amidst the fear and uncertainty, you felt a rush of total, complete love, unlike anything you had ever experienced before.

“That same night I swore I’d do anything for her, kill, be anything for her,” you confess, the weight of your words hanging heavy in the air. “And then I met you, and I realized there were two people I would do anything for, be anything for.”

The door clicked and moved inward behind you, swinging open gently, and you scrambled to your feet to meet him head on. Eris stood in the doorway, his figure bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, casting long shadows across the floor. His features were drawn tight with tension, his eyes a stormy mix of emotions you couldn't quite decipher.

For a moment, he hesitated, his gaze flickering between you and the threshold of his chambers. The weight of the unspoken words hung heavy in the air, a tangible force pressing down on you both. But then, with a resigned sigh, he stepped back, his movements slow and deliberate, as if he were navigating treacherous terrain.

As you crossed the threshold, you couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation wash over you. The atmosphere within his chambers was charged with electricity, every corner of the room crackling with untamed emotion. It was as if the very walls were alive, pulsing with the raw intensity of the moment.

You took a hesitant step forward, the floorboards creaking beneath your feet, echoing in the silence that enveloped you. The air seemed to thicken around you, heavy with the weight of everything left unsaid. It was a delicate dance, navigating the fragile boundary between you and Eris, each movement fraught with uncertainty and longing.

“It’s from my father,” Eris whispers ever so softly, his voice barely audible above the crackle of the fire. He avoided your gaze, his eyes fixed on the warm-colored floors beneath you, as if unable to meet your gaze while he divulged the painful truth.

You felt your heart clench at his words, a surge of anger and sorrow rising within you like a tidal wave. It was a side of Eris you had never seen before, vulnerable and wounded, stripped of the facade of strength and indifference he so often wore like armor.

“I disagreed with him on something during a council meeting,” Eris continues, his voice barely above a whisper, as if speaking the words aloud made them all too real. “And he slapped me right in front of everyone, called me a worthless piece of shit, said he wished I had died in my mother's womb so he could have had a better chance at a proper heir.”

The words hung heavy in the air, a bitter reminder of the cruelty that had shaped Eris's life since childhood. You could see the pain etched into every line of his face, the weight of his father's words bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

Eris's throat bobbed as he spoke, his voice choked with emotion, as if afraid to give voice to the depths of his suffering. It was a vulnerability you had never seen from him before, a crack in the facade of strength he had always presented to the world.

Eris paused, his words catching in his throat as he summoned the strength to speak of the pain that had shaped his past. His gaze remained fixed on the floor, his hands clenched into fists at his sides, as if grappling with the memories that threatened to consume him.

"I raised all my brothers too," he finally admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "But Lucien… Lucien was different. He was the one I was closest to, the one I swore to protect with my life."

You could hear the raw emotion in his voice, the ache of loss and betrayal that lingered in every word. It was clear that the wounds of the past ran deep, leaving scars that would never fully heal.

"And then…," Eris falters, his voice breaking as he struggles to continue. "And then my father… he forced me to hold Lucien down while he… while he slaughtered Lucien's lover."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the horrors Eris had endured at the hands of his own flesh and blood. You could see the pain etched into every line of his face, the weight of his father's cruelty bearing down on him like a crushing weight.

Memories of Jesminda flooded back with painful clarity, and Eris struggled through his words. "Her name was Jesminda," he whispers, his words heavy with sorrow. "A beautiful lesser Faerie, who had a gentle heart."

You could hear the ache in his voice as he spoke of her, the memory of her kindness a bittersweet reminder of all that had been lost. It was clear that she had left a lasting impression on him, her presence a beacon of light in the darkness that had surrounded him for so long.

"I had met her once," Eris continues, his voice barely above a whisper. "She had kissed my cheek and thanked me for taking care of Lucien. She recognized my work, and it… it shocked me."

The words hung heavy in the air, a stark reminder of the kindness that had been so rare in his life. You could see the turmoil etched into every line of his face, the weight of his past bearing down on him like a suffocating blanket.

"I had never even considered deserving praise for doing my duty," Eris admits, his voice choked with emotion. "That's when I started realizing that it maybe wasn't supposed to be my job, when I started to disobey my father in small ways."

As you listened to his confession, your heart ached for him, for the years of pain and suffering he had endured in silence. And in that moment, you knew that you would do anything to help him find the healing and solace he so desperately needed, to show him that he was worthy of love and kindness, despite the darkness that had once consumed him.

Eris's voice cracked with emotion as he spoke, the weight of his confession hanging heavy in the air. "That's when my father found out about her," he whispers, his words tinged with sorrow. "And as punishment to both me and Lucien… that's why he did that."

The pain in his voice was palpable, his anguish laid bare for you to see. It was clear that the memory of that fateful day still haunted him, the cruelty of his father's actions etched into his soul like a scar that would never fully fade.

You reached out to him, your hand trembling as you brushed a strand of hair from his face. "I'm so sorry, Eris," you whisper, your voice thick with tears. "No one should ever have to endure such cruelty."

Eris's voice trembled like a leaf caught in an autumn breeze as he poured out his fears. His words were heavy with the weight of his past, his pain, and his insecurities laid bare before you. It was as if he had opened a door to the darkest corners of his soul, allowing you to glimpse the shadows that haunted him.

"I'm scared to love again," he breathes, his voice barely above a breath, yet resonating with the depth of his emotion. His eyes, usually ablaze with determination, were now pools of vulnerability, reflecting the turmoil within his heart. "Scared to let anyone close. Especially you."

The vulnerability in his voice tugged at your heartstrings, stirring a mixture of empathy and tenderness within you. You longed to reach out to him, to wrap him in the warmth of your embrace and chase away the shadows that threatened to engulf him.

"I don't want you to get hurt," Eris confesses, his words laced with anguish as he lays a trembling hand on your bump, feeling the fluttering movements of your unborn child beneath his touch. "Or him."

The tenderness in his gesture, combined with the weight of his words, threatened to bring tears to your eyes. You could feel the raw intensity of his fear, his desperate need to protect both you and your child from the pain he had endured.

"I know it's scary," you murmur, your voice soft and soothing as you reach out to brush away the tears that threatened to spill from his eyes, your other hand meeting his on your bump. "But trust me. I love you. There is no choice, no deciding. You are my home; you always will be."

The tension in the room was palpable, a tangible force that seemed to wrap around you both as you stood facing each other. The flickering candlelight cast shadows across Eris's face, accentuating the chiseled lines of his features and the intensity of his gaze as he looked at you, his eyes dark with unwavering love and desire.

You could feel your heart pounding in your chest, the blood rushing in your ears as you waited for him to make a move. Every nerve in your body was on edge, every sense heightened as you drank in the sight of him standing before you, so close yet still tantalizingly out of reach.

Slowly, almost hesitantly, Eris reached out a trembling hand, his fingers brushing against your cheek with a feather-light touch. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within your soul as you leaned into his touch, craving more of his warmth.

With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, Eris closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just inches from yours. The anticipation hung heavy in the air; a tangible force that seemed to draw you inexorably closer together.

And then, in a moment that felt like an eternity, his lips finally met yours in a gentle, tentative kiss. It was as if time stood still, the world falling away around you as you melted into each other's embrace.

The kiss was soft at first, a gentle exploration of each other's lips, but soon it deepened, becoming more urgent, more passionate. It was as if a floodgate had been opened, releasing a torrent of pent-up emotion that had been building between you for far too long.

You lost yourself in the kiss, losing track of time and space as you surrendered to the heat of the moment. Every touch, every caress, sent sparks flying through your veins, igniting a firestorm of desire that threatened to consume you both.

Eris's hands roamed over your body, tracing the curves of your form with a reverence that sent shivers down your spine. His touch was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body as you arched into him, your lips meeting his with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, the kiss ended, leaving you both breathless and dazed, the echoes of your passion reverberating through the air.

"I love you too," Eris pants, his breath warm against your skin, carrying with it the scent of cool autumn air. It was the kind of scent that would drift through an open window on lazy mornings spent bundled up in bed, the crispness of the air mingling with the warmth of the blankets.

The weight of his confession washed over you like a wave, filling you with a sense of warmth and belonging that you had never known before. In that moment, you felt as if you were floating on air, carried away by the sheer intensity of your emotions.

But it was his next words that truly took your breath away, sending a shiver down your spine and causing your heart to swell with love and gratitude.

"Both of you," he murmurs, his voice soft and tender as he places a gentle hand on your bump. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes, conveying a depth of love and devotion that left you feeling humbled and grateful beyond words.

As you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was where you were meant to be. In the arms of the man you loved, with your unborn child nestled safely between you, you felt as if you had finally found your home. And as you looked into Eris's eyes, you knew that no matter what trials lay ahead, you would face them together, united in a love that was as enduring as the stars themselves.

TAGLIST

@purple-writer8 @defnotlucienvanserra @cherry-cin @julesofvolterra @mirandasidefics @mandziaaa @lilah-asteria @littlestw01f @skylarkalchemist @babypeapoddd @daardyrnitta @talesofadragon @thecraziestcrayon @asaucecoveredsomething

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

Daddy’s New Hair Style.

my masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - i actually really like harrys buzz cut era, it makes him look more macho in my opinion 🤷‍♀️

word count - 1.7k

in which, your fiancé returns home one afternoon, shocking both you and your son milo when he appears to be sporting a new hair cut, neither of you seemed to be prepared for.

In the cozy embrace of your London home, you find yourself nestled on the sofa, a soft blanket enveloping you and your precious two-year-old son, Milo.

The room is dimly lit, creating a tranquil ambiance as you cradle him in your arms.

Milo, having fallen asleep while breastfeeding, (his afternoon snack.) radiates an innocent calmness, his tiny breaths rhythmic and soothing.

The gentle hum of a TV show provides a subtle soundtrack to this tender moment. The muted glow from the screen casts a warm illumination on the living room, creating a serene atmosphere.

The characters on the show move through their scripted lives, but your attention is divided between the unfolding drama and the cherubic face of your slumbering child.

A cup of tea, steam curling upwards, rests precariously on the arm of the couch, a momentary escape forgotten in the bliss of maternal connection.

The aroma wafts through the air, adding another layer of comfort to the scene. The liquid within holds the promise of warmth and solace, a silent companion in the quietude of this shared repose.

His tousled hair (much like his fathers.) and cherubic features evoke a sense of wonder and fragility, a reminder of the preciousness of these fleeting moments.

The air is filled with a hushed lullaby, a fusion of Milo's delicate breaths, the ambient sounds of the TV, and the distant chirping of birds outside the window.

The subtle creak of the front door signals your fiancés arrival, and although your back is turned, you instantly recognize the familiar sound.

The atmosphere in the room shifts with anticipation as his footsteps echo through the entrance hall, a symphony of his return. The television's hushed murmur fades into the background, overshadowed by the promise of his presence.

"M’home!" Harry's voice, warm and resonant, fills the air with an infectious energy. Even before laying eyes on him, you can sense the genuine joy in his greeting, a sentiment that bridges the physical gap between you.

As he steps further into the living room, the scent of the outside world clings to him – a mixture of the crisp outdoors and the subtle musk of his cologne. It's a scent that has become synonymous with comfort and familiarity, a sensory reminder of the life you share.

The sound of his keys finding their place on the table, a routine symphony that accompanies his homecoming, adds to the rhythmic cadence of the moment. The soft thud of his jacket being hung up, a tactile cue that he is settling in, marks the transition from the outside world to the intimate haven you've created together.

The shuffle of his footsteps pauses briefly, creating a suspended moment where time seems to hold its breath. In the pregnant silence, you can almost hear the smile in his voice as he calls out again,

"Where's m’favorite people?" The endearment, spoken with a familiarity that comes from shared history, melts away any residual tension in the room.

As you turn to face Harry, a reflexive smile plays on your lips, ready to greet him after the day apart.

However, your expression freezes, and your eyes widen in surprise as they fall upon his head. The shock sets in when you realise that the familiar cascade of curls that once adorned his head has been replaced by a sleek buzz cut.

Your mouth hangs open in astonishment, a reaction born from the unexpected transformation.

Your gaze remains fixed on his shorn head, and a kaleidoscope of emotions dances in your eyes – surprise, confusion, and a touch of nostalgia for the familiar texture of his hair.

Harry, oblivious to your internal turmoil, wears a grin that carries a hint of mischief. His eyes twinkle with the satisfaction of a well-kept secret, and he revels in the delayed reaction playing out on your face.

The silence between you becomes palpable, echoing with the unspoken question of whether you'll recover from the unexpected twist.

Harry settles onto the sofa beside you, a tender smile gracing his face as he observes his slumbering son cradled in your arms. The rhythmic motion of his hand, gently rubbing up and down the little one's back, is a silent lullaby that adds to the serenity of the moment.

The room is hushed, filled only with the soft sounds of your child's breathing and the muffled ambiance from the TV in the background.

As you glance at Harry, your eyes inadvertently catch a glimpse of his newly shorn hair. The sight triggers a wave of emotions within you, and the words that could express your thoughts seem to elude you. Uncertain of how to navigate this uncharted territory, a lump forms in your throat, and an overwhelming surge of emotion finds release through tears.

"M’love, s’wrong?" he inquires gently, his voice a soothing balm.

You glance up at him, your shoulders shrugging in a gesture of uncertainty.

"I just... I miss your curls," you admit, your voice catching slightly as you try to articulate the complex mix of emotions swirling within.

A sympathetic understanding softens Harry's eyes as he takes in your words.

"M’didn't think it would hit y’this hard. S’just hair," he says with a wistful smile, attempting to downplay the significance of the change.

You nod, a half-hearted smile forming on your lips.

"I know, it's just... it's going to take some getting used to," you confess, the vulnerability of the moment hanging in the air.

Without another word, Harry wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into a comforting embrace. His touch is a silent reassurance that transcends words.

"Change can be a bit overwhelming, huh?" he muses, his lips brushing against the top of your head in a gentle kiss.

You nod again, finding solace in the warmth of his embrace.

"Yeah, it's just that your curls were... a part of you. It's like I need to recalibrate my mental image," you explain, your words a hesitant attempt to convey the intricacies of your feelings.

Harry chuckles softly, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your back.

"Fair enough. M’guess I should ‘ave warned y’about t’big reveal," he admits, a playful glint in his eyes.

A light chuckle escapes your lips, and you nuzzle into his shoulder.

"Maybe just a heads-up next time," you suggest, the tension dissipating as humour finds its way into the conversation.

He nods, his hand now gently playing with your hair.

"Got it. And hey, it's still me, curls or no curls," he reassures, his voice a comforting anchor in the midst of change.

Milo, roused by the comforting familiarity of his father's voice, stirs on your lap. His sleepy eyes flutter open, and with a drowsy curiosity, he turns his gaze towards the source of that familiar sound.

Upon seeing Harry, a small, delighted smile graces Milo's face. The connection between father and son transcends words, and with newfound energy, the two-year-old wriggles on your lap. With determination that only a toddler possesses, he begins to crawl off your lap towards his father.

"Ey’ there, little champ," Harry greets, his voice a melodic blend of warmth and affection. He extends his arms, ready to receive Milo into his embrace. The room is now filled with the joyous energy of a family reuniting.

As Milo reaches Harry's waiting arms, the father-son reunion is marked by laughter and the soft patter of little feet against the living room floor.

Harry scoops Milo up, lifting him into the air with playful ease. The room is filled with the infectious laughter of a child delighted by the simple joy of being in his father's arms.

With a gleeful determination, he lifts his small hands, fingers outstretched, ready to engage in his usual ritual of playing with the curls at the back of his father's neck.

However, as his tiny fingers reach the intended destination, there's an unexpected void. Confusion clouds Milo's face, and a puzzled expression replaces the usual delight.

His fingers flitter through the air, searching for the familiar texture that has always greeted him during these tender moments.

When realisation strikes, a small whine escapes Milo's lips, a sound that echoes both disappointment and surprise. The absence of the once-present curls disrupts his routine, and with a spontaneous burst of emotion, he throws his head back, as if in protest against this unforeseen change.

Harry, caught off guard by Milo's reaction, looks down at his son with a mix of amusement and understanding.

He chuckles softly, his hands adjusting to accommodate Milo's newfound exploration.

"No more curls, buddy. Daddy's got a new look," he explains, trying to soothe Milo's evident dismay.

Yet, Milo remains unconvinced, his little face contorted in a blend of confusion and protest. His fingers continue to explore the unfamiliar terrain, perhaps hoping that the missing curls will magically reappear. The room is filled with the comical symphony of a toddler expressing discontent with the capricious nature of change.

His little face scrunches up in contemplation, and then, with the sincerity only a child can muster, he begins to babble excitedly about his own hair.

"Daddy, hair go bye-bye!" Milo exclaims, his words a delightful blend of toddler language and exuberance.

His tiny fingers point to his head, emphasising the absence of what was once there.

Harry, caught off guard by Milo's animated commentary on his own hair, joins in the toddler's excitement.

"S’right, buddy! Daddy got a new haircut. No more curls," he explains, his laughter mirroring the infectious joy radiating from Milo.

As Milo continues his animated monologue, his eyes shift towards you, seeking acknowledgment and perhaps wanting to share his newfound discovery.

With an enthusiastic gesture, he points at his head again and then looks at you as if to say, "See, Mommy?"

You respond with a warm smile, playing along with the adorable sincerity of the moment.

"Daddy looks great, doesn't he?" you chime in, your words laced with affection.

Just as you said those words, a thought immediately popped into your head and you snapped your gaze so it was locked onto your lovers.

“H?”

He hummed from where he was playing with his sons dummy, playfully taking it in and out of his little ones mouth making him laugh hysterically.

When he looked at you for a brief second, you eyebrows were raised.

“Your curls better be back before the wedding.”