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#angst with a happy ending
vanteguccir · 23 hours
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All Too Well | Chris Sturniolo
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Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Chris misplace his priorities.
Warning: Fighting, crying, cursing. ANGST with a happy ending.
Requested?: Yes, by anon.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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Y/N felt her heart sink as she watched Chris frantically scrolling through his phone, barely paying attention to her. The silence in the living room echoed the tension that had been building between them over the past few weeks, the memory of the previous day's event still fresh in Y/N's mind.
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Y/N sighed contentedly as she set the dark wooden table carefully, placing the plates and cutlery impeccably. She had spent the entire afternoon preparing Chris's favorite dish, with fresh ingredients, for the romantic dinner they had planned to have after the triplets recorded the video that would be posted next Friday. Everything was perfect, except for the emptiness that began to settle in her chest as the hours passed and Chris didn't appear.
At eight sharp, Y/N sat at the table, her heart filled with anticipation and anxiety. She watched the stairs leading to the front door with every sound she heard, willing him to come. But as the minutes dragged on, anxiety turned to despair.
Nine o'clock passed, and Y/N was still sitting alone at the table, her stomach churning with hunger and worry and her eyes staring into space, small tears burning her cornea. She tried calling Chris several times, but every call went to voicemail, as well as her messages going unread.
At ten o'clock, Y/N couldn't take it anymore. Thick tears began to stream down her face as she looked at the still untouched plate in front of her. The romantic dinner she had so lovingly prepared now seemed like a cruel reminder of her dashed hope.
With a choked sob, Y/N got up from the table, feeling completely desolate, her belly hurting from the weight and sobs that made her body shake. She carefully put the food away in the fridge, her hands shaking with disappointment.
That night, Y/N fell asleep in her boyfriend's room with a heavy heart and eyes swollen with tears, wondering if she would ever have the courage to take some initiative, before it was too late.
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Y/N was standing in front of the cinema, her heart full of expectation as she held a bucket of popcorn in her hands. She looked from side to side nervously, trying to spot Chris among the crowds rushing along the sidewalk. Time was running out, and her nervousness increased as the clock on her phone showed just ten minutes until the start of the movie, and her boyfriend still hadn't appeared.
And then, as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over her, Y/N's phone vibrated, indicating a new message. She grabbed the device anxiously, hoping to see an apology or explanation from Chris for the delay. But what she heard was something that made her shake with rage.
"Hi, baby." Chris’s voice sounded through the voicemail, but instead of an apology, there was a note of indifference in his words. "I know we planned to go to the movies today, but a last-minute party came up that I really need to go to. Do you remember Tara Yummy? It's hers! Well, I'm sorry for canceling like that at the last minute. Maybe we can meet up later, okay? Bye."
Y/N felt her world collapse upon hearing those words. Chris's betrayal, his indifference to her feelings as he sent her the message just to break her as if it was some kind of promise, cut like a sharp knife. She clutched her phone tightly, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill over.
Anger and sadness consumed her, bubbling inside her chest like a volcano about to erupt. With a cry of frustration, Y/N threw the bucket of popcorn and the tickets into the nearest trash bin, tears streaming freely down her cheeks as she felt suffocated by disappointment and pain.
And that night, Y/N walked away from the cinema, her heart broken and her confidence destroyed.
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"Chris." She began, shaking her head gently to shake the memories away, her voice trembling with the anguish she carried. "We need to talk."
Chris looked up from his phone for a moment, his tired eyes meeting hers briefly before returning to the bright screen in his hands.
"Not now, Y/N. I'm busy."
Those words hit Y/N like a punch in the stomach. She felt increasingly isolated and neglected, while Chris's world revolved around his career and his influential friends.
"You're always busy, Chris." Y/N murmured, fighting back the tears that threatened to escape her eyes. "There's never time for us."
Chris sighed, irritation rising across his skin like a shiver. He closed his eyes for a few seconds before looking up at the girl again, giving her a look full of hatred, which she had never seen before.
"I have responsibilities, Y/N. You know that. I can't just ignore my work to pay attention to you."
"I'm not asking you to ignore it." Y/N snapped, her voice rising in desperation. "I'm just asking for a little time for us. For our relationship. Yesterday you-"
Chris shook his head quickly, interrupting her, the traces of frustration deepening on his face.
"I already said I'm sorry! You always do this, Y/N. You're always trying to change who I am and what I do. You always try to change my priorities, like my world has to revolve around you. That's not how things work!"
Those words cut Y/N like a sharp blade, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She wasn't trying to change him. She just wanted to feel like he cared about her as much as he cared about his fame, but instead, he made her feel like a random crumpled up piece of paper.
"I just want you to include me in your life." Y/N whispered, her voice shaking with pain as her eyes blinked repeatedly, her eyelashes slowly becoming wet with tiny droplets from tears. "But it always seems like there's something more important."
Chris snorted, throwing the phone roughly onto his lap and turning abruptly to face her, an expression of disdain filling his eyes.
"You know what? Maybe it would be better if you took some time to think about what you really want, because it seems to me that everything I do isn't enough, and if you're not genuinely happy in this relationship, maybe you should evaluate your preferences!"
Chris' words echoed in Y/N's mind, leaving her stunned. She felt as if she had been hit by a train of conflicting emotions.
With a lump in her throat, the girl stood up from the couch abruptly, her legs shaking under the weight of her grief as her chest burned intensely, anguish gnawing at her insides.
"Maybe you're right." Y/N muttered, shrugging, her voice cracking with pain. "Maybe I need some time to figure out what I really want... Right?"
Chris watched in silence as Y/N walked away, her tears finally spilling freely down her cheeks, her lips pressed into a thin line tightly in an attempt to stop the sobs that wanted to escape.
The brunette frowned, watching his girlfriend's wet cheeks against the cool light of the room, feeling his chest hurt and his throat tighten, begging to call her back, and apologize, but the words seemed to get stuck.
And so, Y/N left the triplets house that night, taking with her a broken heart and a soul full of uncertainty about the future of their relationship.
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The frigid night air bit into Chris' skin as he walked through the empty streets of LA, his body shaking not only from the cold but also from the anxiety and remorse that consumed him. He couldn't bear another night without Y/N by his side, without feeling her comforting touch and hearing her soft laugh filling the silence.
His steps were heavy and slow, each carrying the weight of days of loneliness and regret that piled up on his shoulders. The memory of Y/N's desolate and disappointed face haunted his thoughts, an image that haunted him incessantly, preventing him from finding peace even at bedtime.
Chris knew he had done wrong, that he had hurt the person he loved most in the world with his negligence and misplaced priorities. He blamed himself for his actions, for putting his work and his friends before her, for leaving her alone and helpless at times when she needed him most, or just wanted his company and love.
The mere memory of coming home on Thursday before everything fell apart, and finally seeing all the lost messages from his girl, along with a plate full of his favorite food neatly packed in the fridge made his heart ache as if human hands were squeezing it.
As he made his way through the deserted streets, the silence of the night was deafening, a cruel metaphor for the loneliness he had caused himself. Each step brought him closer to the home that had once been his refuge, the place where he found comfort in Y/N's arms and where he hoped he could right the wrongs he had done.
Finally, the brunette arrived at the door of the small, simple house, his heart beating wildly in his chest as he hesitated to ring the doorbell. He knew he didn't deserve Y/N's forgiveness, that his empty words and broken promises couldn't erase the pain he caused.
But he had to try. He had to show her that he was sorry, that he loved her more than anything in this world, and that he would do anything to have her back by his side.
With a shaky sigh, Chris finally pressed the doorbell and waited, his heart hammering in his chest as he crossed his arms, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in an act of nervousness, the cold of the night penetrating his bones.
On the other side of the door, Y/N hesitated, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she tried to gather the courage to face the stranger that was there. The last few days had been a storm of sadness and loneliness, her mind spinning in circles of anguish as she struggled to understand what had happened between her and Chris, where everything went wrong.
When she finally mustered enough courage to turn the doorknob, what she saw made her freeze in place. Chris was there, standing in front of her, his eyes red and swollen from crying. His face was contorted into an expression of pain and regret, and Y/N felt her heart tighten even more at the sight of the person she loved so much in a deplorable state.
"Chris." Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper as she tried to process the scene before her eyes.
Chris didn't say anything, he couldn't. He just sobbed, thick tears flowing freely down his cheeks as he fought to contain the overwhelming emotions that overwhelmed him. His body shook violently, each sob a painful reminder of all the mistakes he had made in the last few weeks.
Y/N felt tears in her own eyes as she looked at him, her heart breaking at the pain she saw reflected in his eyes. Without thinking, she stepped forward and wrapped Chris in a tight hug, letting him cry on her shoulder as she gently stroked his hair, her own tears silently streaming down her cheeks.
For long minutes, they stayed there, lost in each other's arms that transcended the words and hurts. It was as if, in that moment, their wounded souls found a refuge in each other, a source of comfort and peace amid the chaos their lives had become.
"Baby! B-baby, I'm- I'm so sorry, so fucking sorry-" The boy's words came out in broken sobs, his words almost incomprehensible.
Y/N closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her heart clenching by her own pain. With a sigh, she pulled away lightly, holding his hand firmly and gently guiding him into her house, closing the door behind them, the warmth of the walls enveloping their cold bodies.
Y/N led Chris over to the living room couch, keeping a cautious distance as he sat down next to her on the cushioned seat. Uncomfortable silence hung between them, filled with tension and unspoken emotions, as Y/N waited patiently for Chris to find the words to express what was in his heart.
Finally, after a long moment, Chris broke the silence, his voice still cracked from his recent crying.
"Baby, I... I know I was wrong. I know I hurt you deeply with my actions, and I never wanted to make you feel that way."
Chris sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair as he tried to find the right words, his right leg bouncing up and down in anxiety.
"I was so obsessed with YouTube, with my success, that I ended up neglecting the most important thing in my life: you. I got lost in the cool lights and the adrenaline of fame, and I forgot how much you mean to me. And I'm so fucking sorry for that." His lower lip trembled slightly, making him trap it between his teeth.
The boy's words cut deep into Y/N, reigniting the pain and hurt she had kept inside. She felt tempted to step away to protect her heart from the possibility of being hurt again. But something in Chris's eyes made her hesitate, something she recognized as genuine regret and love.
"Chris..." Y/N began, her voice shaky and filled with uncertainty. "You don't understand how much it hurt me every time you kept me waiting, every time you put your work and your friends before me. I felt so alone, so unappreciated."
"I know, Y/N. And I'm sorry, from the bottom of my heart. I would do anything to make things right, to prove that you're my real priority." Chris lowered his head, frowning and fixing his eyes on his legs, guilt weighing on his shoulders.
Y/N raised her right hand, taking it to his chin covered with the beard he had let grow in the last few days, pushing it up so that she could look into his eyes, seeing the sincerity and desperation reflected there.
She wanted to believe him and wanted to open her heart to forgiveness and the possibility of a future together again. But the pain of everything that had been done brought her such insecurity that she knew she needed time to heal.
"I don't know, Chris." Y/N murmured, the hand that was holding his chin falling with a thud onto her lap. "I'm still hurt, I'm still trying to process everything that happened. I don't know if I can just forgive and forget."
Chris swallowed hard, fear evident in his eyes as his mind screamed at him to do everything, anything. Even if he needed to kneel in front of his girl to get her back.
"Please, Y/N. I promise I'll do everything to make this right, to be the boyfriend you deserve. Just give me a chance to prove that I can change."
Y/N looked at him again, seeing the vulnerability in his gaze. She knew it wouldn't be easy, but there was something about Chris, something she couldn't ignore, something that gave her hope that maybe, just maybe, they could find their way back to the way they were before.
With a resigned sigh, Y/N reached her hand out to Chris again, taking his and intertwining their fingers tightly, her heart warming with the touch she had missed so much.
"I forgive you, Chris." She murmured, her voice sounding soft but her eyes carrying an indescribable firmness. "But know that things are going to have to change. Your priorities are going to have to take the right path this time."
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My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
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~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia @maryx2xx @sturnolio-luvs @sturnsjtop
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
429 notes · View notes
ellecdc · 2 days
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DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩
okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.
this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!
poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols
CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending
Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 
He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 
Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 
Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.
His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 
“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.
The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.
“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.
Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.
“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 
“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”
“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.
“Barty...”
“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.
“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”
“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 
“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.
“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.
You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”
Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”
More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.
You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.
“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”
“I...I just-”
And you passed out.
“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.
“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.
He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.
He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 
His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...
Oh gods, your parents.
That’s why you were here.
You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.
Fuck. 
Fuck fuck fuck fuck.
Any why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.
Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.
“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 
You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 
“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”
You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 
“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”
“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”
“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”
“Where were you trying to go?”
“The Potter’s.”
“And why can’t you go there now?”
You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.
“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.
He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.
He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 
“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.
“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”
He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 
“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.
“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.
Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.
Except something was very, very wrong.
The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.
“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.
He wished you could have kicked at him.
“Yes, Barty.” You cried.
“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.
“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 
“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 
Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 
Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.
Fortunately, there were ways around that. 
Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.
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“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”
Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 
“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”
Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.
“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”
Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”
“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.
Help is coming, Treasure. 
“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”
Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.
He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.
“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”
Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.
“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 
“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”
Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 
“Where is Regulus right now?”
Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 
“Upstairs with Remus.”
Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”
Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”
“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”
“For what?”
Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.
“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.
Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 
“Where is-”
“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”
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“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 
“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.
“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.
Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.
“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.
 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.
“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 
“She...she was bitten.”
Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.
He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.
“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.
“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 
“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.
You looked like you were dying.
“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.
“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”
“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.
“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.
“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.
Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 
“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.
“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.
“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 
“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.
“Where’s the silver from?”
“Slughorn’s supply closet.”
Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”
“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 
Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.
Pure...
Toujours pur. 
“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.
“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.
“Then what are we supposed to do?”
Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”
Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”
Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”
Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.
“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”
“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”
Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 
Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot last night to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.
“I don’t understand.” 
“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.
“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”
“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 
“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 
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Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.
Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 
“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.
“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.
“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 
“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.
“Yet you still worry?”
“Yet I still worry.” 
Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.
“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.
Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.
You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.
He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.
“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.
Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.
“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 
“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.
“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.
“Been worse.” Remus answered.
“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.
“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.
“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.
“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”
Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.
“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.
“No, well, yes...she-”
“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.
“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”
Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.
“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 
“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 
“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”
“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”
“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”
Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.
“She was bitten, Rem.”
All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.
“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.
“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”
“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 
“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.
“Why not?”
“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 
“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.
“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 
Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.
“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.
Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.
“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.
Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.
“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.
“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.
The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 
“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.
Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”
“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”
“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.
“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.
Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 
“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.
“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”
You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.
“Remus will hate me.”
Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.
“Why would he hate you, sweets?”
“He hates werewolves.”
Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 
“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.
“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.
“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t there. 
“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 
You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.
“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 
“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 
“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 
“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”
“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 
“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel all better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 
“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembers his older brother being. 
What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?
How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?
“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.
“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.
“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.
“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.
“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.
“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.
“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.
Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 
Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.
“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.
“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  
“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.
“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”
It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 
“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.
Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.
“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 
“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”
“Remus.” Sirius warned. 
“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 
“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.
“I know, dove.”
“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 
“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 
“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.
“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”
Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 
“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.
Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 
“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.
“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.
You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 
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empress-simps · 3 days
Text
Line That Leads To You
Pairing: Sirius Black x Fem! Reader AU: Soulmate AU CW: Language, Genre: Angst with a happy ending (don't worry guys) Summary: You make Sirius realize that having a soulmate isn’t all that bad— that he too, will have his happily ever after.
Note: One of my favorite tropes to write, soulmate AUs! Sirius just needs love and affirmation. I love writing for this! Enjoy! Picture is from pinterest, credits to the owner!
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You know, Sirius never really believed in those pesky soulmates stuff. It irks him to no end, and makes his head hurt.
The topic makes him snappy, bitter, and it leaves him feeling angry. To whom? The world— the one who’s responsible for everything that has to do with soulmates. He thinks it is a bunch of bollocks. It’s a pathetic little concept that everyone seems to be too invested in.
Sirius would be very much happy to tell you it doesn’t really end with a happily-ever-after.
“I’m telling you, Prongs. It’s just a bunch of crap.” Sirius tells James one time at the drawing room in the Potter Manor. James shakes his head, disagreeing with his best mate.
“It isn’t always like Walburga and Orion, Pads.” James gently tells him, eyes swimming with empathy for Sirius. “Just look at me, Lily and I are together, finally.” Sirius can’t help but scoff, shaking his head in a disagreeing manner.
“That’s because you were already pathetically in love with her before you even knew she was the one, Prongs. Same thing for Lily, but she was quite stubborn trying to deny what she felt about you. You guys are actually made for each other.” James lets out a laugh, the memories resurfacing making a love-struck smile appear on his face (Sirius gave him a disgusted look)
“That’s what soulmates are, Pads. You’re supposed to complete each other, balance the other person out” He pursed his lips and sighed, there’s no way Prongs could understand his opinion on the matter.
Complete each other, huh?
Then can someone give him a reasonable excuse on why his parents broke each other? One descended into madness; the other doesn’t really seem to care as long as the noble house of Black lineage will continue.
Sirius bites his bottom lip, deep in thought as he stares at his pinky, willing the connection to be seen; a red string that was tied into a bow that leads to Merlin-knows-where. It serves as a connection; the string that he and only his soulmate can see whenever they want. He tugs on it curiously, awaiting any reaction with bated breath. He almost scrambled away when he felt the other end also tug it. Sirius was utterly terrified, a shiver crawled up to his system, it’s foreign feeling for the Black’s eldest son. It made everything feel too real. A fact that he desperately tries to deny.
That night, before they returned to Hogwarts as sixth year students was the last time he ever willed to see the annoying little string in his pinky, not caring if his supposed other half was finding him or already found him.
Maybe it had to do with his twisted upbringing. He saw how his father cut the string tying him to their mother, the purple string that bound them together turning gray and withering away.
He saw how Regulus flinched, no one should’ve seen a scene like that, but they did. Someone severing their connection to someone who should’ve been with them through better or for worse, the one that fate intended for them. Their life got worse just after that, forcing him to flee and leave his younger brother behind at the deranged hands of Walburga Black.
“You should eat more, Reggie.” You turned towards the quiet and reserved Slytherin, pushing his plate closer to him, which made him wince. “I am quite full.” You raised a brow “None sense, all you did was sip pumpkin juice so you better do as I say or I’ll tell Evan and Junior.”
“Do you know that you boss people around quite well?” He grumbles, shoving a few spoonsful of dinner in his mouth as you hummed in approval, cracking a small smile. “I was told.” Your eyes flickered to the Gryffindor table, it seemed to gravitate you, pulling you in.
Looking down at your pinky, you willed the string to be visible to you. Seeing the red string attached to Sirius Black made your stomach churn; was it butterflies? Unease? You don’t particularly know, having mixed reactions to the string that leads to your other half.
You’ve known for over a year now, keeping it to yourself as you quickly figured out that he wants nothing to do with his soulmate.
“Reggie! Reggie!”
You exclaimed, slapping the poor boy’s arm as he was currently staying in the L/n Manor. He looked in your direction, quite annoyed, he was interrupted reading his book. “I’m reading, Y/n. You know, you should too. It’ll do you some good.” He sassed, trying to find which part he stopped reading. “My soulmate! They tugged the string!” You gushed, “They must be looking for me too, right?” You asked no one in particular, you can still feel the tingles you felt, how your heartbeat picked up, and how you felt like you were in could nine.
Quite the opposite from what Sirius felt, huh?
You never told him, never planned to. It was quite clear what his views are on the concept of soulmates when you saw him snogging different girls every week. It wrecked you; you swore you felt your heart stop beating every time you see him loving a girl other than you even just for a week. It sounds stupid and all, but you would give up everything just to know what it feels like; how he will look at you with love and adoration in his eyes, how his touch and kisses would linger on your body, and how his voice would sound like as his breath fans in your ear, whispering promises of love.
You looked at him from the Slytherin table; so close yet so far.
Regulus noticed, the all too familiar broken look in your face. His heart hurts for you, even if you do not tell him, he already knows. Seeing his brother’s indifference, Regulus’s gaze hardened. How could he have the guts to do this to his soulmate?
The memory of their mother's despair, the way she withered away after their father severed the bond, was etched into his mind. Regulus does not wish for anyone to feel that way, he does not wish upon it even in his worst enemies.
It was a pain no one should endure, a lesson that should have been learned.
Yet there sat his brother, laughing with his friends and willfully ignoring the pulls of his heart. The person who held the other end of this unseen tether, was beside Regulus. Your soul ached as you watched your soulmate. It was a betrayal of the heart's deepest connection, and it stirred a tempest of fury within Regulus that he struggled to contain.
“My brother is foolish. Eat.” He states, pushing your food and placing the cornbread on his plate to yours. She cracks a smile, chuckling. “Alright, Reggie. You’re lucky I love you.” You pat his curls, proceeding to eat the bread, smiling a little. Reggie never really shares his food with anyone, except for you. You’re the only exception.
“Padfoot.” Remus starts, looking out of the window as Sirius lays down lazily in his bed, looking at nothing.
“What, Moons?”
“If I say that I have an inkling on who your soulmate is, would you… look for them?” Remus asked cautiously. Peter and James perked up, eyes wide with shock. How could Remus possibly guess who his soulmate is? Unless… They’re also in Hogwarts?
“Don’t start with that crap, Moony.” Sirius sat up; a scowl displayed in his features as his grey eyes turned stormy.
“Don’t you even feel the slightest amount of guilt in your system as you snog other girls?” Remus frowned.
Sirius’s scowl deepened, his hands clenching into fists. “Guilt? For what, Moony? For not wanting to be chained down by some ancient magic?” His voice was a low growl, barely containing the emotions that surged within him. “I won’t be dictated by fate. I make my own choices, and I refuse to be bound by a bond I never asked for.”
Remus’s expression softened, the lines of concern etching deeper into his face. “It’s not about being chained, Pads. It’s about finding someone who complements you, who understands you in ways no one else can.” He paused, his gaze steady and piercing. “You’ve seen what happens when that bond is severed. You’ve seen the pain it causes. Is that what you want for yourself? For your soulmate who’s probably hurting somewhere?”
Sirius looks down, biting his lip and playing with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t plan on severing our bond, Moons- “
“Then what the fuck are you doing?” Remus spat, Sirius flinched, looking at anything but them. He knew deep down that Remus was right. He can’t deny he also wants to look for his soulmate. The only thing that was holding him back is that he’s scared. What if your story would end similarly like how Walburga and Orion’s did? Dread fills his system as he reflects on how he slowly realized he’s becoming like his father. Peter and James exchanged a glance, the weight of the conversation settling heavily upon them.
“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared of finding her… Scared of repeating the same mistakes.” He paused, his gaze lifting to meet Remus’s. “But you’re right. I can’t keep running from this. It’s not fair to them, and it’s not fair to me.”
James offered a supportive smile, feeling happy for his friend. Sirius stood up, his posture straightening as if shedding the weight of his fears. “I’ll do it. I’ll find her,” he declared, his voice steady. “I owe it to both of us to at least try.”
“That’s our Padfoot.” Remus breathes a sigh of relief as Peter nods encouragingly at Sirius.
The next daylight soon came. Sirius gulps, looking around the great hall, feeling quite overwhelmed at the number of students entering for breakfast, eating, or chatting amongst themselves. For the first time in a long time, he willed the red string of fate to reappear within his vision.
Ah, there it was. The red string connected to someone from the Slytherin table. Sirius felt his heart drop, seeing the end of the string connected to your pinky. “Y/n?” The name left his lips in a hushed awe, his heart skipping a beat as he saw the string connected to your pinky. You, who laughed with such ease beside Regulus, were the missing piece.
Whether it was some brotherly instinct, Regulus looked at him, shooting him a warning stare as if to say: ‘If you hurt her, you’ll never see the light of day ever again.’
Remus raised his eyebrows in surprise, knowing eyes set on his friend. “Found her, Pads?”
“Yeah. Found her, Moony.”
“Then what are you waiting for?” James chimed in, a grin spreading across his face as Peter silently cheers him on. “Go on, before you lose your nerve.”
Sirius took a deep breath, trying to shake off the weight of Regulus’s protective stare. It was a silent challenge, a vow to keep your heart safe from his brother. With a nod of acknowledgment, Sirius stepped forward, crossing the small distance between the Gryffindor table and Slytherin.
“Y/n,” he said, standing before you, the red string pulsing with a life of its own.
You stilled, slowly looking in his direction. Eyes wide with surprise, searched his for a moment before softening. “I was wondering when you’d come around,” you teared up, making Sirius’ heart ache.
Sirius extended his hand, the red string wrapping around both your destinies. “Let’s talk, yeah?”
And in that moment, as your fingers intertwined, Sirius knew that whatever the future held, he had made the right choice. For in finding you, he had found a new path that began to unravel, one filled with hope and courage. The buzz of Great Hall continued, but both of them felt time still, feeling the bond weave into their souls deeper.
Sirius’s and Y/n’s story had its flaws, but it was theirs, uniquely woven by the red strings of fate.
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The Monster I am
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Summary: After an argument Wanda realizes she may be the monster everyone says she is. 
Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader
Warnings: Arguing and mentions of blood
Word count: 1112
a/n: Surprise! Not dead! The fanfiction writer curse is just very real. Anyways here’s some hurt comfort for y’all. (Reblogs are welcome and critiques/advice are heavily encouraged, but please no translating.)
As Y/n and Wanda rode the Quinjet with the rest of the team coming back from a mission the negative energy between the two was obvious. Trying to somewhat make amends Wanda began inching her hand towards Y/n’s since she was still sitting next to her. But as soon as her hand grazed Y/n’s Y/n quickly moved her hand away not in the mood for any type of contact. 
Landing at the compound Y/n was the first one to grab her duffle bag and quickly make her way back to the bedrooms with Wanda following her. It doesn’t take long before Wanda is knocking on the door pleading with Y/n her. 
“Y/n, sweetheart please open the door. I just want to talk.” With no response, Wanda could feel a lump grow in her throat. She manages to slip out a joke, “Uh, you know this is my room too right?” Y/n finally opens the door but Wanda is met with a serious expression. “How are we supposed to talk Wanda? You have been getting yourself needlessly hurt to do what? Protect me?”  
Wanda could feel her eyes start to brim with tears but she moved closer to Y/n anyways. “Yes Y/n! That’s all I’ve been trying to do! I love you!” Y/n presses her hands against her face in frustration, “Well then maybe you need to stop Wanda. It seems like you’re forgetting I signed up for this job too. And when you’re too focused on me you’re putting our teammates in danger!” 
Wanda inches closer to Y/n again, “I can’t lose anyone else!” Wanda’s voice softens, “I’ve lost my mother, father, and brother. If I lose one more person I love I don’t know what will happen to me.” Y/n bites the inside of her cheek trying to figure out the right thing to say. 
“I know that Wanda, and I understand that. But that’s also not an excuse to endanger the lives of people I care about.” Wanda lifts up a hand to caress Y/n’s cheek, but at the speed she did it Y/n flinches back. The one simple motion stopped any tears Wanda had in her and replaced them with a special mixture of hurt and anger. 
“Did- did you think I was going to hit you?” Y/n stammers holding back tears of her own, “I- I don’t know.” Wanda clenches her fists trying to hold in any type of intense feelings. 
“Answer. The. Question.” 
“Wanda…” Y/n looks down at something but Wanda can’t be concerned with it. She screams at the top of her lungs, “Just tell me!” She hears a loud thunk. Opening her eyes Wanda first sees blood on the dresser that Y/n was standing in front of. Looking down Y/n is lying on the floor blood begins to stain the grey carpet. 
Lastly looking down at her own hands Wanda notices remnant wisps of red energy circling her hands. She did this. Immediately kneeling over Y/n she pressed her hand against the wound on Y/n’s head trying to stop the bleeding. Tears started to pour from her eyes. 
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” her voice began to crack. “I’m sorry, please. Please don’t go. Don’t leave me. Not yet.” Someone not too far away was calling Wanda but she couldn’t bear to turn around. She just looked down at her blood-stained hands. Whoever is calling her is getting closer, maybe the world is right. Maybe she is something that needs to be contained. 
The person calling her was right behind her now. “Wanda. Wanda?” As she turned around to see who it was she switched spots with Y/n. Except she wasn’t bleeding or on the floor. She was in bed, with Y/n sitting up staring at her concerned. She can feel Y/n resting a hand on her cheek wiping away a few tears. 
“What was it this time?” Compared to the dream Y/n’s tone was softer, warmer, and more comforting. Trying to ground Wanda a little more Y/n began to move her hand from Wanda’s cheek grazing her arm before slipping her hand under Wanda’s shirt drawing shapes into her back with her fingertips. 
Wanda sits up slightly running a hand through her hair. “We were arguing about me being overprotective of you.” Y/n looks down at Wanda’s hands as she begins playing with Y/n’s free hand avoiding any form of eye contact. 
“Is that it? You were crying a lot this time. You don’t have to tell me anything of course. I just want to make sure you’re okay.” Wanda bites the inside of her cheek worried what Y/n may think. 
“When we were arguing you flinched probably thinking I was going to hit you. And I lashed out because of that. I lost control of my powers and hurt you.” Wanda’s eyes begin to well up with tears again as she lets go of Y/n’s hand examining her own in slight fear. “I think I killed you.” 
“Hey, look at me.” Y/n tilts Wanda’s head up meeting her eyes before gently grabbing her hands and kissing them a few times. “It was just a nightmare. Nothing else. I know you would never hurt me. You are amazing in so many ways I can’t explain.” 
“You don’t think I’m overprotective?” Y/n cracks a smile, “No. I think you’re protective of me the same way you are with anyone else on our team. Maybe just a little bit more than them if we’re in a really dangerous situation. But I don’t think you’re overprotective. And even if you were I would understand why. You’ve lost a lot of people you care about. I’d never argue with you over something you feel.” 
Wanda lets out a deep breath finally starting to relax. Giving her a quick forehead kiss Y/n smiles, “So, did you want to watch a few episodes of a show or something?” Wanda raises an eyebrow at her. “Isn’t it late?” Y/n shrugs, “A little but I figured you might not want to go back to sleep yet.” 
Wanda cracks a small grin looking at Y/n, “Well I don’t.” Y/n quickly gets out of bed brushing herself off, “Good. You start thinking of a show then while we raid the kitchen pantry.” As Wanda gets out of bed Y/n grabs onto her hand once more and she lets out a small, “I love you.” Y/n replies back in a soft whisper, “I love you too.”
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itsyouch · 2 days
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Hi! Your art is so good! I really loved it.
I want to eat your art.
Aaaaand if ur receiving art requests... can I have angst? I LOVE IT (specially if it is with Red, Second or Chosen)
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wait.... is this angst or whump?
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gglitch1dd · 2 days
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I wanna hug reader so bad shes been through so much trashh first of all BAKUGOU, ive never hated him so bad as how much i do now, like why are u causing drama, and i have a slight feelign maybe he helped Ochacco seduce izuku into cheating on reader after cause hes just a salty jerk who if one thing is going nice for someone else he cant handle it and IZUKU second of all, how could he right after they lost a SON. like everyone is sad, and throwing yourself into to your work might be your way to cope, but cheating is a whole different thing, seek refuge in ur with not with some chick. Reader has experienced heartbreak after heartbreak after heartbreak, and whats awful is now shes stuck in a marriage where shes still mourning over a loss of her child, her husband went to go do another woman, and now at a vacation that was supposed to get her mind off everything, she almost lost another son and (maybe?) her husband. thats gotta give someone some serious trauma.
You have summed up everything so amazingly I couldn't even add anything to it at all. Honestly, I don't know if Izuku did it intentionally or not (cheating with Ochaco I mean). Its something he wouldn't do but he did... its brings cause for suspicion...
Reader DEFINITELY is going to therapy after the ending of the Fourth and final installment of Cheating Dilf Izuku. Her and Izuku go to cope with everything that's happened. (They also force their kids to go).
Reader is strong but she break. I was actually gonna write a scene in Part 1 where she runs to Mina and tells her but it seemed a bit too messy so I decided not to. And I was also gonna write a scene where Reader is drunk in part 3 and tries to sleep with Izuku but obviously Izuku says no and she kinda off loads on him about everything that's happened and she really just breaks down. But then the part was getting too long so I said no.
Although in the end everything sort of works out. Reader and Izuku work together in rebuilding their relationship. Marriages are worth fighting for a lot of the time, some people just don't put in the effort.
-Glitch1d
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mykoreanlove · 3 days
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afraid of love
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Exhausted from the intensity of the night before, you sank into the comforting embrace of your fluffy bed. But even in the tranquility of your room, your mind raced with memories of Eun Woo.
Did he make it so Seoul already?
Images of last night flooded your consciousness like a vivid, intoxicating dream.
Heated kisses on every inch of your body ignited a fire within you, each touch sending shivers down your spine and leaving you breathless with desire. Eun Woo's lips, soft and insistent, traced a path of passion across your skin.
His dark, brown eyes seemed to peer into the depths of your soul, stripping away all pretense and laying bare the raw, unfiltered emotions that lay hidden within. In those moments, it felt as though you were the only two people in the world, lost in a shared intimacy that transcended words.
Your bodies intertwined for hours, moving together in a dance of ecstasy and longing. Every touch was a symphony of pleasure that left you both gasping for breath.
Dirty promises were whispered into your ear, each word sending a jolt of electricity coursing through your veins. In the darkness of the night, with only the sound of your ragged breaths to fill the silence, you reveled in the shared intimacy of your whispered confessions, each promise a testament to the passion that burned between you.
As the night wore on, you both became a canvas for each other's desires, covering each other in colorful marks that served as a physical reminder of the passion that had ignited between you.
And as sleep finally claimed you both, you drifted off in his strong embrace, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a peaceful slumber. In that moment, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that you had found something special, a connection that transcended the physical and reached deep into the depths of your soul.
Adrenaline flooded your system as you thought off all the things you did last night.
Or three nights prior to that. You matched on a random Sunday, after being abstinent from dating for a long time. Eun Woo was in town only for a couple of days for a video shoot but that didn’t stop him from having a good time.
He had been single for years after having his heart shattered by his first love. Ever since, he toyed with women as he pleased.
The first date was spent in his apartment, eating, and talking, cuddling, and fucking.
He was a passionate lover, even though he was starving for love and affection. The second date was a spontaneous invitation late at night, after all his mandatory meetings had been dealt with.
You repeated the first date’s actions but this time it felt more familiar, already knowing what you liked and needed. Eun Woo gave you his all, adoring you in every way he could.
Until he had to leave.
You remembered the sound of his alarm clock this morning, way too early and too sudden. He shifted in his sleep, groaning as he did not want to leave you.
Kisses on your neck were accompanied by his fingers entering you, sighing in appreciation. “God, you feel so fucking good, y/n.”
Minutes after he was gone, catching his plane back to Seoul. You put your fingers on your lips, looking for the traces he had left. The sudden vibration of your phone brought you back into the present moment.
I landed. Tired as fuck though. How are you?
Missing you.
You didn’t want to get your hopes up – after all he didn’t even live in the same country. This was nothing but a repeated one-night stand, right? You thought back to the conversation you had before falling asleep.
“Do you think there is a future for us?”
He caught you off guard with this question, making you panic to find the right words.
“That depends on how well you treat me, Eun Woo”, you mocked jokingly.
He broke into laughter, loving your sassy side.
“I will love the ground you walk on, my queen. How about that?”
You joined in on his laughter and turned to face him, staring into his beautiful eyes.
“Do you mean it?”
He nodded.
Did you really mean it, though?
Oh, good! Seoul has you back then 😉 Lying in bed and cuddling my plushie since you’re gone…
Did that sound stupid?
Your insecurities churned within you, suddenly you were hyper-aware of everything you said and did.
Haha
That’s it?
You felt sick to your stomach as you took that as confirmation. After all, you were right about him. He only used you for some fun during his trip. And now he’s back in his real life, in which you had no place in.
This was nothing but fun to him. Nothing but a repeated one-night stand.
Brrrr.
Brrrr.
Brrrrr.
What the fuck?
Barely awake you searched for your phone on your nightstand.
3:33 AM.
Who the fuck texts me at this hour?
You were instantly awake as you realized who it was.
Eun Woo.
I have no idea if you’re awake. You’re probably asleep. And I shouldn’t blow up your phone. But I can’t help myself.
Anxiety formed in your stomach.
What was that supposed to mean?
Are you okay?
It took him seconds to answer.
You’re awake? Did I wake you? I’m sorry.
You sat up in bed, anxiously typing your reply.
It’s alright. Why are you up? Everything okay?
You saw him type his reply for minutes, driving you crazy in your heightened state.
No. Nothing is okay. I can’t stop thinking about you.
You swore your heart skipped a beat.
Did I read that right?
I can’t stop thinking about you and it drives me crazy.
You gasped, trying to think of a reply.
You make it sound like it’s a bad thing…
Countless messages followed.
It is. Because you are not here with me. And I’m not there with you. I… I didn’t want to leave you this morning. I wanted to stay. With you, y/n. I really wanted to stay.
You pinched yourself, unsure if this was real.
Ouch.
Definitely real.
I know I sound crazy. Maybe I am. But I have fallen for you. HARD. The last hours I’ve thought about how I can manage to come back to your city. Or how I could persuade you to come visit me in Seoul. I almost popped a blood vessel thinking of ways. What did you do to me?
You chuckled. Relief washed over you, since he felt the same way you did.
I keep replaying last night over and over. How mesmerizing it felt to look into your beautiful eyes. How amazing it felt to kiss you. How mind-blowing it felt to be inside you. Oh god and speaking of blowing. The way your juicy lips wrapped around my cock? I’m losing my mind here, y/n. I’ve jerked off twice and still I couldn’t fall asleep. Or stop thinking about you. I’m a simp now, aren’t I? Look what you turned me into.
You were in shock.
Hours ago, you thought he would abandon you and go on with his life but here he was, confessing his desire for you. Making it obvious that he wants to continue this and get to know you better.
Now is the time to get my hopes up, right?
Do you want me to fly over?
You felt brave asking, believing in your chance at love for once.
Already checking flights, babe.
A broad smile formed on your lips.
I can’t believe this.
He is serious, isn’t he?
I can’t wait to be with you, y/n. I really fucking mean it. And that scares me the most.
You understood him perfectly, especially since the connection between you was so strong. This was nothing like you had ever encountered before. It scared you just as much, but you were willing to try.
Hey, uhm… Wanna be scared together?
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share the same space for a minute or two by deadratz
@munsonkitten
Rating: Explicit
11,300 words, 1/1 chapters
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Tags: Trans Eddie Munson, Trans Male Character, End of the World, not really - Freeform, Crying, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Squirting, First Time, Virgin Eddie Munson, Accidental Subspace, Soft Dom Steve Harrington, Sub Eddie Munson, Light Dom/sub, Finger Sucking, Hair-pulling, Oral Sex, Riding, Top Steve Harrington, Bottom Eddie Munson, Edging, Orgasm Delay, Love Confessions, Sad moments but, Happy Ending, Unsafe Sex, Creampie, Praise Kink
Summary:
The last time Eddie almost died, he laid on the ground and realized he was dying a twenty year old, never-been-kissed virgin, had no high school diploma and never amounted to anything in his life unless shredding Master of Puppets in hell counts. As he faces the end of the world again, he tells Steve that the only thing that's changed in the last year is that he's twenty-one now. While Steve can't help Eddie with the diploma, or the part about amounting to anything, he does offer to fix those other things.
Thanks for the rec! This recommendation is apart of our Writer's Wednesday! All of the recs today are written by @munsonkitten . Want to nominate an author? Fill out this form!
You can submit fic recs to our asks or the submission box!
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adiraargent · 17 hours
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your choso fic was absolutely ADORABLE oh my god, may i request an angsty choso x (preferably) fem reader who kinda has mommy issues? like she's not used to receiving this kind of love and affection from a person and she kinda gets emotional whenever choso expresses his love for her. if you don't feel comfy writing this please feel free to ignore! :3
I'm here for you - Choso Kamo
warnings: none, fluff, angst, mention of family issues wc 1.6k Thank you for the request <3 I hope you like it, if not lmk and I'll try again :)
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The day had been a relentless cascade of stress and anxiety, each passing hour feeling like a battle against the weight of the world. You trudged through the front door of your apartment, your shoulders heavy with the burden of the day's struggles. The soft click of the door closing behind you seemed to echo in the silence of the empty lounge room. You sighed softly, putting your bag down on the kitchen bench before trudging over to the fridge, pulling it open tiredly to grab the water jug out.
Choso, who had heard the front door click shut rushed out of the room, an excited grin on his face as he went to welcome you home. However always perceptive to your moods, he was quick to notice the weariness etched into every line of your face. His concern was palpable as he approached you, his eyes filled with a mixture of empathy and worry.
"Hey my love, are you okay?" Choso's voice was gentle, his tone laced with genuine concern as he reached out to touch your arm.
You mustered a weak smile, though it felt like an effort to even lift the corners of your lips. "I'm fine," you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, though the words tasted bitter on your tongue.
Choso's gaze softened, his hand lingering on your arm as he studied your face. "You don't have to pretend with me," he said softly, his voice a soothing melody in the midst of your turmoil. "I can see it in your eyes."
"I'm fine Cho," you muttered, shrugging his hand off your arm so you could reach up into the medical cabinet to grab some Panadol.
The dam of emotions threatened to burst, the weight of your worries pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket. You swallowed hard, trying to push aside the overwhelming tide threatening to consume you.
"What's wrong my love?" he whispered again softly, being careful not to push your boundaries.
"It's just... everything," you murmured, your voice trembling with the weight of unspoken words. "Work, family... I feel like I'm drowning."
Choso's expression softened even further, his eyes filled with understanding as he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close. "I'm here for you my sweet girl," he whispered, his voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of your storm. "Always."
You stiffened at the physical contact, still not used to it. You stood there, arms stuck to your side as you looked ahead, unsure of how to really react, the unfamiliar feeling of warmth around you causing an eruption in your stomach. You didn't know how to feel, the warmth from the hug felt so comforting... yet so unusual that it also mad you feel sick.
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you leaned into his embrace, seeking solace in the warmth of his presence. You tried to hold back your tears, the belief that it was wrong to cry deeply etched into your soul as your mothers harsh words and lectures remained prominent in your memory.
It was times like these when you were reminded of just how fortunate you were to have Choso by your side, his unwavering support a beacon of light in the darkness.
"I don't know what I'd do without you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you buried your face in his chest, allowing yourself to finally let go of the facade you had been clinging to all day.
Choso held you close, his arms a safe haven in the midst of the storm raging within you. "You don't have to do anything alone darling," he murmured, pressing a tender kiss to the top of your head. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of Choso's love, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, the weight of your burdens easing ever so slightly. And as you clung to him, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, hand in hand, heart to heart.
As you rested in Choso's embrace, the tension that had gripped your body slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that washed over you like a soothing balm. With each steady beat of his heart against your ear, you felt the jagged edges of your emotions begin to smooth out, the weight of the day's troubles dissipating into the ether.
"I know I don't say it enough, but I appreciate everything you do for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a hushed breath as you nuzzled closer to him, seeking solace in the warmth of his embrace, "you're so patient with me... even after how I act and push you away..."
Choso's arms tightened around you, his touch a comforting anchor in the storm of your emotions. "You don't have to thank me love," he murmured, his voice soft and reassuring. "I love you, and I'll always be here for you, no matter what."
Those words, spoken with such sincerity and depth of feeling, stirred something deep within you, a wellspring of emotions that threatened to overwhelm you once more. "I know you had it rough growing up, and you didn't get the love that you deserved... but I'm here to show you just how important and special you really are. You mean everything to me."
Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you pulled back slightly, meeting Choso's gaze with a mixture of gratitude and love.
"I love you too, Choso," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you reached up to brush away the tears that lingered on your cheeks. "More than words can express."
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. Without a word, he leaned down, his lips capturing yours in a tender kiss that spoke volumes of the love and affection he held for you.
As you basked in the warmth of Choso's love, a sense of contentment washed over you, soothing the frayed edges of your soul. Wrapped in his arms, you felt a sense of safety and security that you had never known before, as if the world outside ceased to exist, leaving only the two of you in your own little bubble of serenity.
"Thank you," you murmured again against his lips, your words a whispered prayer of gratitude as you leaned into his touch, savoring the sensation of his lips against yours.
Choso smiled against your mouth, his fingers gently trailing down your spine in a tender caress. "There's no need to thank me, love," he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur in the stillness of the room. "I meant what I said, I'm always going to be here for you."
His words were a soothing melody that washed over you, filling you with a sense of peace that you had never known before.
"I'm so so grateful that you found me," you whispered, your voice barely above a breath as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
The kiss was filled with all the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you, a silent promise of love and commitment that bound you together in that moment. And as you melted into each other's embrace, you knew that you had found your home in Choso's arms.
But even as you clung to him, a nagging voice in the back of your mind reminded you of the scars that still lingered from your past, the wounds that ran deeper than any physical injury. You had spent so long building walls around your heart, guarding it against the pain and disappointment that seemed to follow you like a shadow. And now, with Choso by your side, those walls threatened to crumble, leaving you exposed and vulnerable once more.
"I'm sorry," you whispered, pulling away slightly as a wave of guilt washed over you. "I didn't mean to push you away like that. It's just... I'm not used to this."
Choso's expression softened, his eyes filled with understanding as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. "Hey," he murmured, his voice gentle yet firm. "You don't have to apologise. I know it's not easy for you, but I'm here for you, always."
Tears welled up in your eyes as you leaned into his touch, seeking solace in the warmth of his hands against your skin. "I'm just so scared," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper as you let your guard down, allowing him to see the vulnerability that lay beneath the surface.
Choso's gaze softened, his thumb brushing away the tears that streaked your cheeks. "I know," he murmured, his voice filled with compassion and understanding. "But you don't have to be scared anymore. I won't let anyone hurt you, not while I'm here."
His words were a soothing balm to your wounded soul, offering comfort and reassurance in the face of your fears.
"I love you," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion as you pressed your forehead against his, your eyes locked in a silent exchange of love and devotion.
Choso's eyes softened, his gaze filled with an unwavering devotion that took your breath away. "And I love you," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he leaned in to capture your lips in a tender kiss.
written by @adiraargent Please do not steal or claim <3 Hope you enjoyed Requests are welcome :)
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pearynice · 2 days
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Chapter 5
Or, read from the beginning!
(Final chapters are posted this Sunday!!)
Summary: Having been forced to bear witness to his parent's toxic soulmate bond, Eddie Munson promises himself he will never fall in love. Promises himself he will never curse another with the touch that will bind his soul to theirs, promises himself to never let another do the same to him in return. But in the spring of 1986, when Chrissy Cunningham is murdered in front of him, breaking those exact promises may prove to be what saves him. Excerpt: He shuffles until he feels the sink. The counter is cool, and he clutches at its granite edges, breathing, before, finally, meeting his new reflection.  It doesn’t look like a bruise.  It looks like—it looks like sunlight. He tilts his head, getting a better view, and it looks like a sun stream has rested across his neck. Looks like if he touched his skin there it would be warm, and he brings his fingers up to test—and it just feels like skin. It feels like him, and he presses, tries to see if there’s pain with it, tries to see if his mother’s aches are genetic, but he presses and all he can feel is his own muscle. His own sinew, his own breath as it passes through his esophagus, and he presses harder, presses harder to make sure— And it still just feels like him. Steve’s touch, uncorrupting, left only the color of sunlight on his skin.  He clutches, tighter, to the edge of the sink, taking in the horrible bruising on his side as he feels his knees go weak, as the panic and adrenaline that had been holding him up thus far bleeds out of him. Because his soulmate has touched him—and he’s fine. Because his soulmate has touched him and he’s still him. Because his soulmate has touched him, and Eddie’s starting to wonder, again, what his own color might be.
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This chapter features work from the amazing artist I was partnered with for this experience @hereforanepilogue
And thank you, as always, to my two amazing betas: @theheadlessphilosopher and @ghostdeb 💗
Tag list (let me know if you want on or off): @littlewildflowerkitten @finntheehumaneater @hitlikehammers @hbyrde36 @hotluncheddie @sleepy-steve @starryeyedjanai @babydollbaron @thefreakandthehair @steddie-island @acasualcrossfade @stevespookington @devondespresso
(Permanent tag list I will not subject you to these posts that's why I'm not tagging you!)
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wangxianficrecs · 2 hours
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One for Heaven and Earth by cerbykerby
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One for Heaven and Earth
by cerbykerby (@cerbykerby)
T, 7k, Wangxian
Summary: An incredulous "Whoa," behind Lan Wangji yanks him out of his meditative state. He spins around fast enough for his wet hair to stick to his cheek. His eyes widen in horror. On the shore of the Cold Springs, Wei Wuxian stands, half-dressed in his own robes. He holds up Lan Wangji's heavenly robe, the fabric shining like spilled stars at midnight. "Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian breathes, a whole constellation reflecting in his eyes. "What's this? It's so—" ---------- On the night Lan Wangji's mother left, she gave him a divine robe and told him to never let anyone see or take it from him. Kay's comments: Absolutely loved this re-telling of MDZS where Lan Wangji's mother was a heavenly maiden and made heavenly robes for him and his brother. A very creative look at the backstory between Lan Wangji's parents and I love the subtle ways it affected his relationship with Wei Wuxian as well. Beautifully written too! Excerpt: The Gusu Lan forehead ribbon means self-restraint. It is not meant to be touched by anyone other than one's fated person. Only with one's fated person can one truly be free. The heavenly robe is a gift bestowed on Lan Wangji by his mother. It is a status symbol as much as it is a part of his identity. Celestial blood flows through him. The robe is proof that he is entitled to walk among the heavens as he does on earth. To steal his robe would be to deny him his birthright. To even have permission to touch his robe would be a sign of complete trust. A forehead ribbon from his father. A heavenly robe from his mother. Both hold heavy significance. Neither can be given away without careful consideration. Which, to Lan Wangji's alcohol-riddled mind, is the perfect reason why Wei Wuxian should have both items.
pov lan wangji, canon divergence, madam lan lives, lan family feels, chinese mythology & folklore, fairy tale retellings, canon compliant, hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, grief/mourning, loss, angst with a happy ending, supernatural elements
~*~
(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)
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buddieswhvre · 1 day
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I've been thinking about Madney's wedding and I just can't stop imagining Buck and Eddie as Mónica and Chandler from friends. Just hear me out, I know the Buckley parents are trying their best but what if they still let out remarks like 'this will be the only wedding we're attending' or 'we're so happy to see Maddie get happily married, this might be the one for a LONG time'
And Buck knows that he shouldn't pay attention to their parents remarks but he also agrees with what they are saying. It has been weeks since Natalia and he broke up and he's almost as lost as he was after the lightning strike. He still tries his best to not let his parent's remarks get to him and fully enjoy his sister's wedding. He's not sure how much he succeeded though. Now imagine,
Eddie: So you're not upset about what your parents said, right?
Buck: Wouldn't you be? I mean they weren't exactly wrong.
Eddie: Hey, I know it's a very emotional time for you and you've had a lot of drinks but you need to let that go. I mean you were the most beautiful man in the room tonight.
Buck: Really?
Eddie: Are you kidding? You're the most beautiful man in most rooms-
And then they kiss now also imagine the morning after where Chimney is excited and running in Eddie's room about how he's going to get married today and once he leaves, Buck's like 'Do you think he saw I was here?'
Now ofc there will be angst on how are oblivious idiots would be sure that this is just fwb for them yk a friend helping another friend and it takes a lot of miscommunication and finally communication to know that they really do love each other.
(I know I should stop with my ideas considering exams and my wips but I can't help it lol)
Maybe I can write this one for didn't know they were dating prompt of buddie week where Buck is clear this was a one time thing and Eddie is sure that ofc Buck knows that I like him so much.
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not-poignant · 1 day
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Daily excerpt from chapter 84 of Underline the Black:
When they got closer to the road, Gary’s phone started buzzing relentlessly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, alarmed, and saw he had several missed calls from Faber, and a stack of text messages. The most recent one that came up on his phone simply said: ~Now’s not the time to have your phone on silent, Gary! That was from Temsen. Gary grasped Efnisien by the arm. ‘Something’s happened.’ ‘What?’ Gary wanted to open his phone and read everything, but after what they’d just been talking about, he had a horrible image of someone injured. They’d lost an omega in a cave which had nearly ended terribly, they’d had injuries on site before. They ran across the road and got through the gate, and as Gary jogged towards the head office – having to slow down so Efnisien could keep up – he almost stumbled over nothing at all when he saw the red car pulled up in front of his cottage. His blood chilled, his pheromones spiked so fast he could smell them himself. Efnisien twisted violently away, gagging and retching immediately.
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temmtamm · 1 day
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Strength in Numbers
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hitlikehammers · 2 days
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PART TWO: Fail-Pirate!Eddie/Castaway!Steve (Pirate AU)
🌊Under the Water (Our Hearts Will Dream Again)🌊
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Chapter Two: A Most Compelling Gaze
CHAPTER ONE // Chapter Three on 28 March 🌊
also on ao3
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He might be a piss-poor pirate, but Eddie’s not an idiot. He knows this was intended as a test—for the both of them, according to the Captain:
To test your loyalty after so many missteps, Munson, can’t help but doubt your commitment to this ship Reefer Rick had cackled at him through those rotting teeth of his; and to tease out the worth of the heftiest catch you’ve managed to date!, and they’d all laughed then, the whole of the crew, even those Eddie counted as the closest thing he had to friends, though their bellies shake less, their chuckles carry less an echo, and that’s something, maybe.
Maybe.
So yeah: Eddie’s well aware it’s a test, setting him up to babysit the castaway? It’s also to have a fucking laugh; probably more geared toward the latter, if only because they won’t fucking stop.
Because it’s one thing to imply attraction to the 'pretty-boy flotsam that was too big for even you to miss, Munson', because one, they’re pirates, degeneracies of all stripes were in their natures, Eddie’s known preferences being the very least of the lot and certainly far from unique, and two: fuck but yes indeed, even Munson couldn’t miss the heaven-sent vision who was now resting in his care, or capture, depending on who was asked.
Eddie didn’t see much difference, if his heart fluttered when he looked upon that face each time; if his pulse eased and the sun shone brighter through grimed window panes like sorcery, when Eddie watched the man’s chest rise and fall: alive, color back in his cheeks, his lips, and gods be good or cruel in turns, those lips—
But the crew, of course, can’t stop with the obvious; oh certainly not.
No: they have to cackle and ask more lewd lines of implication, most egregious—and of course most popular—being variations on oh yes, yes, too big for even the Merry Moron Munson to miss, but is the catch big elsewhere, hmm? Did you stick him with your pole, forwent the hook altogether? Or maybe he’s so large even you could have snagged him by his coc—
Eddie does his best to ignore all that, and just stand watch over their formerly-waterlogged not-quite-prisoner, scooped from a not-quite-wreckage, as in: no wreckage. None anywhere near, and the Captain had demanded they look and look hard, not chancing leaving unclaimed booty on the water but—nothing. The man came from nowhere. The crew’s more suspicious than curious.
But that’s another thing Eddie never fit in with, when it came to his shipmates.
And if—if, in the purely hypothetical instance—but if Eddie does retreat from the taunting behind the closed cabin doors where they’ve laid the mystery man to recover, and hopefully soon wake? Maybe Eddie retreats to the room he's babysitting in part because...he blushes easy, alright?
That’s not a crime, save one of his birth; nothing he can do to fight against it. So much as learned well in his youth: he knows keenly when it’s best to run.
Behind the doors to the cabin where the pretty mystery man too large to miss is lying in an oddly-clean bed for the vessel. That’s just a happy coincidence of the sort Eddie doesn’t normally stumble upon, so he’s got no interest now in staring the gift-washed-up-on-his-metaphorical-shore in the mouth.
“Your mouth will get dry.”
Eddie startles hard enough at the bedside of the Mystery Man to splay on the floor, knocked to bruise: he hadn’t realized he was gaping.
The sprawling as he stares up from the floor doesn’t seem to…incline his jaw to closing.
Mystery Man—who’s awake, good god, he’s awake, alive and awake and dry and warm, Eddie scrambles to pull himself up on the bed frame and he can feel the man’s warmth, and his skin’s got a golden sort of gleam that Eddie hadn’t noticed before but oh hell that does absolutely nothing to stop the stirring in Eddie’s trousers, holy fucking hell—
And oh. Oh, then the Mystery Man is reaching, slowly, blinking just once before he slips a fingertip under Eddie’s chin and nudges his lips closed with a pop.
He feels so warm. Eddie cannot goddamn swallow.
“Sorry,” the man’s turned half on his side, half on his stomach now, peeking almost adorably, almost shy but no, no: far more coy the way he looks down at Eddie, sitting up but still on the godsdamned floor. “I’m just kind of really partial to not drying out.”
Eddie blinks, stares, tries to parse the words around the echo of the touch; mouth. Dry. Right.
Right, he…right.
In hindsight, it’s either a very odd or very suggestive comment, but Eddie doesn’t intend to have access to hindsight any time soon, certainly not soon enough for it to matter, because the Mystery Man is blinking at him, and his lashes look like the patters on the hard outsides of a scallop, so long and previously delicate, fanned out to cast their own shadows, catch their own light.
“You’re awake.”
Which: obvious. Idiotic to state plain. No wonder they call him ‘moron’ as a rule on this ship, he does nothing to prove it wrong, though in fairness here and now: how in every hell imaginable is he supposed to be anything but dumbstruck by the eyes open, fixed on his, close-on to glowing with the amber shift of them, like fine whiskey he’d never had the coin for but has once or twice proven light enough fingers to snag. But they’re more than that, even: the same color but caught inside the sunset-meeting-moonrise where it lilts along the water, the copper starburst of it with the soft shift of the waves in greens, bare hints of blues—intoxicating.
What else can Eddie be but a fool, in sight of those eyes?
“Mmm,” Mystery Man hums with a quirk to his lips and stretches between the linens as if they were silks, rather than hole-ridden, and quite suspiciously stained; “for a bit.”
Eddie halts, pulse kicking a little extra hard because—
“A bit?” And his voice doesn’t squeak. It doesn’t squeak.
The way the man’s mouth curls upward calls Eddie out as a bald-faced liar.
“Your friends are,” the man licks his lips as he seems to consider his words; “quite colorful in their attempts at humor.”
Good god, the things, the things they’ve been saying, that this man has heard, about Eddie, and, and—
“You’re stuck here with me?” Mystery Man tips his head, half askance but also almost half apology which: in light of the moment, it’s the oddest thing to concern himself with.
In light of the man’s everything, it is the most absurd concern Eddie has ever been led to entertain.
“I wouldn’t say it quite like that,” Eddie manages to speak almost-evenly, with his heart still thudding loud enough to muffle his own words back to his ears. He’s almost proud of the effort made.
He’s absolutely proud of how it seems to be at least part of what provokes a full smile out of the Mystery Man, and if Eddie’d thought his eyes could, did glow? Gods above: this smile itself, but then compared in turn to the warmth that rises through Eddie to see it, a soft banked fire that rises from his toes and licks around his limbs, swells in his chest: oh.
Just, just oh.
“Good,” the man grins at him, sounds the like warmth Eddie feels, with an extra hint of satisfaction, a gilded edge of teasing maybe, even: “I wouldn’t say I’m stuck with you, either.”
Eddie let’s himself have a moment, even two or three, just to bask in the light of it, the way his pounding heart’s shifted to fluttering: no less frantic but more like how flames can dance, erratic but so clearly life-giving, evidence shone inside their light. He lets himself have the moments before he clears his throat, and tries so best to act like a grown man with some shred of dignity. Only a shred.
He’s not asking for miracles, here. Or: none beyond the vision wrapped above him in a pirate’s best bedding.
“How are you feeling?” Eddie finally manages to ask a question of import.
“Oh,” the man almost startles, or else his brows quirk a touch in something close to confusion before he seems to take stock of himself.
“Mostly alright,” he concludes with a nod; “I’d just gotten,” he chews his lips and oh, perhaps Eddie asked after the well-being of the wrong person in his room, his heart back to drumming because all hells, but that is a sight.
“Disoriented,” the man settles on; “the water was,” but he stops short, cuts himself off and something in what’s not said feels important and Eddie may have chased it if not for how shiny the man’s lips still looked.
“I’ll be fine,” the man smiles soft, then, assured him genially; “you needn’t—“
“They’re suspicious,” Eddie blurts, suspects he lands on it like a die rolled at random in the hopes he’ll say something other than you’re exquisite or the like. At least he rolls random but safe, not to mention true.
“You,” Eddie narrows his gaze, means to nod down to the unexpected quality of the man’s clothing and—
Meets the tufting of chest hair where the bedclothes end beneath the throat. Oh.
“You wore finery,” Eddie manages, and barely that, maybe not even that because his eyes catch the careful drape of the white cloth softer than anything Eddie had ever felt, drying as best as possible across mismatched seating, hoping to catch sunlight when it couldn’t be trusted just to the deck for the breeze, but however it drapes: it is very much drying. And very much not being worn. Which, which means—
Eddie might start believing in the deities for the simple fact that he hadn’t fully processed until this very moment that the beautiful Mystery Man was wholly bare beneath an ownerless shift that someone had scrounged up when they’d stripped his sodden form, drenched from the waters after rescue—and that, aside from the longshirt?
The man was nude under the sheets in front of him.
Especially given his height—about to Eddie’s own but even lying down, hells; even sleeping his frame was more impressive, more expansive somehow—but either way the shift was from a woman once braved back to the vessel, clearly, and it didn’t stretch far past the Mystery Man’s waist and—
Oh, oh, Eddie may have chosen the exact moment to consider belief in the gods just so he could wish them fire and damnation and a swift death for the way his blood rushes southward, the way his eyes dart to the line visible under the coverings where the shift has tucked even higher, under the clear peaks of firm but unbothered nipples—that peek through the linens very much as if they should be bothered, nay, worshippedas a gods-damned rule—but the line of the shift runs just below those tempting buds now, and Eddie is going to damn all the gods to their own hells because of course his eyes drift lower, to where the line was expected to fall; lower to where a different line of a clear curve and shapebetrays itself with an almost casual grace beneath a single thin covering, so close to Eddie’s face, Eddie’s lips—
“This?”
Damn all the gods to every conceivable hell.
Eddie tries to suck in a steadying breath when he looks up, grateful the man’s eyes are cast down but cursing the deities to burn in punishing flames for eternity when he sees the man’s hands near his throat, the linens pooled closer to his waist and the shift pulled down to betray more of the thatch of curls at his chest, but his fingers are threaded through something shining, something metal: a chain, not good but brighter, the likes of which Eddie’s never seen, not Pirate’s gold with its enchantments but similarly beguiling; otherworldly.
How did he still have it, where none of the crew had pocketed it before they left him in Eddie’s charge? How had Eddie missed it in the hours between?
“They think you royalty to ransom,” Eddie chokes out as the man tucks the pendant under to the shift he pulls back up just the slightest bit, and Eddie wills himself not to dwell on what that means for its too-short hem; reveals to his own heart that his will is lacking in the extreme before he barely sighs out: “or some competition to send to the plank.”
Because the clothes, even without the adornment at the neck, betrayed wealth, either by birth or business. Neither was particularly kind or tolerated by a pirate crew.
And ostensibly it was part of Eddie’s job, here, to discern to which the man belonged.
But before Eddie even has a chance to collect himself to something more pressing, if not imposing, the man takes it in his own hands to turn serious in a way that…that feels weighted, heavy in the air. Like the clouds hand spread palms to press upon mere mortals, Eddie none to be spared.
“There is no one who would pay my ransom in any manner you’d deem fit,” the man speaks solemn, but resonant, even if he’s tone is just above a whisper; the words themselves are honest, and that pangs deep in Eddie’s heart—who could not miss this man? Who could not desire nothing more in this world but his safety, his return to their side?
Unthinkable.
“And I swear to you upon all that I am,” and it’s the resonance, again, the way it almost shakes intangible things in the air around them, as if the vow it in as power somehow, or else isn’t actually the important piece of the statement at all:
“I do not deal with, or approve of, the trading companies that pollute these waters,” and there’s a pause, and it strikes heavy too; somehow mournful; “and so many others.”
The man’s voice dips then, there’s no clear reason for the way an echo rings but it does. It rings inside Eddie’s bones.
“I believe you,” Eddie breathes, a little shaky with it just for the gravity still in the room; “but that means we will have to concoct an alibi to get you safely back to shore."
Because Eddie believes him wholly, even if he cannot articulate the why—still, though.
The crew saw tell of riches. They will need a reason—not a particularly ironclad one, none of them are especially sharp—but some means of convincing them to let the beautiful man return to his home. No matter how Eddie wishes he wouldn’t, and not only for his own selfish, foolish wants—if it’s true they’d pay no ransom, Eddie can barely stomach the notion of returning this near-heavenly creature to such people who cannot see his worth.
He begins to ponder, concoct a tale, but then the man intervenes, definitively:
“I did not intend to get to shore.”
There’s something certain in his tone, but something strange likewise in his words. Eddie isn’t sure if it’s their cadence, or their order, or maybe the words themselves.
“You are very curious,” Eddie doesn’t hesitate to say, when an answer eludes him for enough heartbeats in a row.
“I am aware,” the man smiles crooked, but his eyes dance, prismatic.
“You have the most compelling gaze.”
Eddie has to blink a good many times, and swallow around his galloping pulse, to realize he hadn’t spoken. Longer still to process the words hedid not speak.
When it hits him, though, the curse of his easy flush sets his cheeks aflame.
And the breathtaking mystery man smiles wider, stealing breath he’s already taken entire: greedy.
Eddie is flooded with heat, with; with want.
“Does your compelling gaze have a name to match?”
Eddie nearly chokes on the thump of his heart because, how is a man so suave and charming real, and how is he mostly-baker, barely covered laid out before Eddie Munson?
Unfathomable.
“Eddie,” he coughs out, like the syllables get knocked by his riotous heart; “and,” he 
does not squeak, he 
stammers at a particularly high pitch:
“And you?”
“We are…where?”
Not an answer, nor a question Eddie expects. It must show, because the mean leans his chest, and his wholly unreasonable patch of curls between his pectorals just a little bit closer to ask anew, as if to clarify:
“Where would the stars place us in the night?”
Location. Bearing. Right, yes.
“New Providence is far in our wake by now,” Eddie answers in truth, which was part of why the man’s appearance made so little sense, especially in absence of a wreckage.
“Hmm,” the man hums, and strokes his chin—which should not be attractive, which should not somehow find a new way to ramp up his heart rate, and yet.
Eddie can feel the wild pumping graze the neck of his shirt.
“I am known by different names in different places but, no matter,” the man shakes his head and smiles before the first half of the sentence has a chance to make as little sense as it deserves; before he speaks but not just speaks, reaches for Eddie’s hand where it’s still gripping the edge of the bed where he still sits on the floor and Eddie thinks he means to shake it.
No.
No, he lifts it swift to his lips—so >i>soft—and kisses quicker than a blink before giving back Eddie’s hand and smiling oddly…oddly genuine—
“Eddie of the most compelling gaze,” that’s the genuine thing, he means that and Eddie marvels for it; “call me Steve.”
Steve. Steve. The name flows, sings, swims a little like the man’s own eyes. It suits so true.
“In our alibi,” Steve picks up, and it’s unfair for Eddie to call it sudden; it >is>feels sudden, but he has no concept of how long he’s sat and tried to brand to feeling of lips on his knuckles, perhaps minutes at least; “do you suppose there’s a tale to be woven that could keep me aboard with you, for a time?”
And it’s a surprise, but Eddie’s learning: this man, this Steve, is steeped in secrets and surprises. And maybe Eddie wants to devour him entirely.
Asking to be kept here? To stay, near Eddie, where he may have some chance to try and catch him in actual fact, instead of laughable happenstance?
Oh; he’ll give the deities another chance, in that case.
“You’re in luck, fair Steve,” Eddie chances a little hint of a flirt, mostly in heat, for show, but Steve lights up and he lets himself hope as he stands only so he can bow a bit theatrically and look up through his curls with a wink when he says:
“Weaving the perfect tale just so happens to be my strongest skill.”
And he thinks that’s the end of it, that he sticks on a high note but then Steve’s eyes drag across him, up and down where he’s stood in full height before him for the first time and those eyes: they expose him before those lips quirk at the corners and the voice speaks simple and clear but strikes somehow, inexplicable, like a pie down Eddie’s spine as Steve breathes deep, sighs smooth:
“I do not doubt you in the slightest, noble bard,” he says with feeling; “but I find myself unconvinced you’re not selling the rest of your attributes short.”
At which point Eddie may or may not turn on his heel and make for the deck to fetch water for his charge before the blood-rush to his cheeks sets some precarious too-parched woodscrap to flame and put fire to the whole fucking ship.
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lovedumbandbroke · 2 years
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A concept in my head that been rolling around a lot:
Hanahaki, but instead of it being triggered by unrequited love, it's triggered because all the love you have for a person turns inwards because you're too afraid to show it.
So it kills you, not because someone doesn't love you back, but because you don't let it out and all that love you have stored, that could grow into something beautiful, turns on you and turns your insides beautiful.
Love is growth, and without any place for it to grow outside, it grows in. If you confess, reciprocated or not, the disease goes away because it's no longer trapped. It gives self-destruction a new meaning.
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