#but its a fucking ugly sign too

[cupuasu]

was looking at the school systems in latin america and i think our ministries of education should come together n decide some sort of standard fr bc what a mess

[possum-tooth]

hmmmmm not sure about this dye actually

[jellyfishrnice]

Yandere! Rich suitor idea

Hear me out-

The rich suitor that your parents have in mind for you to marry once you turn 30, the guy who's parents your parents are best friends and how they've been imagining their offspring getting married for decades! And how you absolutely can't stand your unofficial fiance!

Of course, he couldn't stand you either. All your lives grown up together with both your parents insinuating that you two will carry on their names. Each year you two would be sent off to some exotic vacation (your parents loosely supervising) and each year you both failed to hold a conversation without fighting. The pressure was always too much for you, you hated the idea of being tied down to some guy only your parents liked. And no matter how beautiful the boy was, he simply wasn't your type. He was too pretty, too spoiled, too prissy with his blonde hair tied in a ponytail and his stupid eyebrow piercing that made no sense considering his personality.

The guy you were supposed to marry felt the same, he couldn't understand what his parents saw in you. You were too wild, he couldn't imagine trying to carry on a family with how you barely even wanted to do school work. He didn't even consider ugly just so... Weird! With your weird, odd sense of fashion and refusal to think about your future , you were definitely not his type. You two hated each other.

Until the summer you two turned 21. The yearly vacation y'all took started off like any other. With both you dreading the sight of each other. But that changed very quickly once he saw you. This was the first year you two were alone, and maybe it was the fresh alcohol in your systems or the soft lights in whatever high class restaurant you were in, something clicked in your suitor's brain.

Turns out a year (or a couple) can really change the way you see someone. Whether he knew or not he started to admire the way you refused to comply with the strict set of rules set by the high class society you two lived in, and how you didn't care what anyone else thought of your peculiar way of self expression. It was admirable he had to admit.

And the night you two shared an accidental drunken kiss, it made the hair on his arms stand up, it made his face flush red(which he blamed on the liquor), and it made his heart pound in a way he never thought possible.

Every bone chilling reaction was forced out of him and it made his skin light on fire. After that night, he only wanted more to come out of your relationship.

But, the attraction was simply one sided.

You still only saw the same prissy boy. He still refused to look at things from more than one perspective, he still poked fun at your style of clothes, he still refused to say thank you to whatever person who was serving him!

He was everything you hated all wrapped up in one ball of a man.

And when he dropped the idea of getting married the next morning while you were still recovering from your hangover, you almost vomited.

-

"Ew! What the fuck are you talking about?!" You yelled while almost dropping the mug you had in your hand. The guy was just insulting you yesterday like he always does and now he's talking about marriage?

"You act as though marrying me is the worst thing possible." Andrew sighed while sipping on a glass of orange juice. He looked out the nearby window onto the private beach of the resort while leaning on the nearby wall. It didn't show but your response clearly hurt him just a bit.

"'Cuz it is." You groaned in frustration while sitting down on the living room couch. The guy you hate proposing is definitely not helping with your pounding headache.

You took a sip out of the mug of coffee and tried to rub away the ache from your temples. Why now of all times to propose? You two had at least 5 more years of freedom before yours and his parents would put their foot down and set a date for you two to sign the wedding papers.

"I mean- why not now? Its be better sooner than later, it would be like ripping off a bandaid-"

"Hell no." You sighed and set down your mug on the coffee table next to you and dropped your head onto a pillow. How were you going to deal with this?

"Anyway," you paused trying to gather your words, "don't you hate me? Why would you want to tie the knot so soon? I mean, you're an attractive guy right? Why don't you try out other options before having to-"

"I don't want other options."

You lifted your head and stared at Andrew for a second. The pink dusting his fair cheeks and avoidance of eye contact was all you needed to know.

You looked away from his face and stared at the wall behind him. Your head hurts even more than when you had woken up.

"I'm leaving."

"What?"

"I said I'm leaving." You hauled yourself off the couch and into your room. You could hear Andrews faint footsteps and even more of his questions but ignored it. You packed your backpack, only the necessities and a small bag of seashells. You were getting on the next plane and heading back home. Or wherever you could land first.

You were not staying here. You refused to marry. Not yet at least.

But as you try and open the door to leave, a large hand slams it shut before you can completely open it.

"Andrew. What the hell are you doing."

"You are not leaving." Andrew says while placing his other hand against the door, caging you.

You never realized how muscular Andrew was before this moment.

"Yes, I am. Now let go of the door-"

"No." He says in a much firmer tone.

It dawns on you that you're on a private beach with no one to hear you yell for help. You see one of his hands leave the door and for a second you think he's come back to his senses and stopped whatever crazy shit he was thinking- but instead he snaked his hand around your waist and lays his forehead on your shoulder.

"You're not leaving."

-

HEHEHEHE JUST A THOUGHT THOOO

Not proof read forgive me 😔

[thursdayg1rl]

yr 13 boy I lowkey had a crush on has a gf.. sad! oh well there's other people to make up unrealistic daydream scenarios about

[zeldasnotes]

ASTRO OBSERVATIONS PART 25 🐣

Venus in the 10th house people easily get receptionist jobs and other jobs where they are the face of the company. They are seen as someone who will make the company look good.

”I dont care if SHE hates me, shes ugly” - My Libra Moon, Libra Rising friend. We were talking about some girls who dont like us, she cant stand not being liked, except if the person is ugly then its okey because to her an ugly persons opinion doesnt matter💀

Ceres conjunct Lilith is found in the charts of a lot of body activists.

I looked up the chart of a body activist who focuses especially on making new moms accept their post partum bodies, and she got Venus conjunct Knight(29391) in Cancer.

Virgo Risings give off that ”Im better than you” energy without meaning to. This is the rising sign most likely to be accused of being arrogant or having an attitude when they are just minding their business.

People with Moon Square/Opposite Mercury might struggle with oversharing and gossiping. They have a hard time processing information.

People with Venus aspecting Saturn have this style where they look dressed up but still look so casual? Like they have the perfect mix between luxury and comfort, especially if they have Taurus or 2nd house influence.

Contrary to popular belief Libras are not likely to be mean to you just because others are, thats a Capricorn trait. Libras are usually friendly and kind even tho they have some shallow traits. They are still an air sign and air signs wants to think for themselves. Capricorn placements are the ones most likely to pretend to dislike you because others dislike you.

If you got asteroid Achilles(588) in the 2nd house you could make money out of your biggest insecurities. You could write a book about your trauma.

Lilith in the 9th house can mean your partners family dont approve of you.

Ive seen so many people with inner planets aspecting Neptune who are soooo much more beautiful irl than on pictures. Neptunians are known to be photogenic but a lot of them are the opposite. You dont see the otherworldy energy surrounding them on camera.

Mars 8th house synastry can mean you find eachothers name attractive.

Adorea(268) conjunct Sun or Ascendant is such a blessed placement.

If you have Aura(1488) conjunct Neptune people might be completely mesmerized by you. You have this disney princess aura. 🪄

Ive noticed people who are into toxic positivity usually dont like 8th housers. 8th housers are so good at accepting that life is both positive and negative, they see the beauty in the wicked. Also 8th housers remind them of what they are trying to ignore.

Having an air sign Venus in the 8th house is not giving a fuck but at the same time crying over the person you dont give a fuck about.

Machiavelli(19730) conjunct personal planets can make someone an expert at getting ahead by using others. Very good at knowing who to use. Very cunning and can be very detached from others (CAN BE doesnt mean they will be)

I know we shouldnt judge people based on astrology but seriously never ignore someones North Node because what conjuncts North Node is a life theme. Whatever a person got conjunct their North Node WILL affect you if you are involved with them.

Transits affect your style a lot. The year transit saturn was going through my 1st house I dressed very businesslike and wore a lot of grey, black and white.

I noticed that the person who take your virginity often have their Mars in your 8th house.

Venus conjunct Venus can be a rivalry aspect in synastry because you both want to come across the same way. You see what the other person is doing. If one of you is fake the other will see it. Venus affects our personality and behaviour a lot.

I noticed that a lot of people with Scorpio/Pluto energy could never be friends with someone whos too ”innocent”. They need excitement and drama.

If you have Uranus in the 1st house it doesnt always mean that the ”unique” about you is seen. You might not have an unsymmetric face it can be that the Uranus effect shows up by your tongue being longer than the average length for tounges. which will not be seen. Can even be that one boob is bigger than the other. Or that you have a look that doesnt match what people from the same cultural background as you look like.

To my Moon/Pluto and Venus/Pluto people. Remember that feminine energy is threathened and can be competetive with you. That doesnt only include women, anyone can be feminine. So you will experience hate from feminine men too.

You have a bad feeling about a situation or a person? Ask a Cancer Moon. Trust me on this. And ALWAYS listen when a Cancer Moon warns you of someone. Cancer energy is PURE intuition.

©️ 2023 Zeldas Notes

[theonotti]

MIO | OS | t.n.

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!Hufflepuff!reader

Word Count: 9.5k

Summary: Voldemort won. Harry Potter is dead. But the Order of the Phoenix is still fighting, with two surprising allies who have very different reasons for aiding their cause.

Warnings: Pretty angsty. AU where Voldemort did not die at the end of DH.

Notes: This is heavily inspired by Secrets & Masks and Manacled. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

That Final Night One Shot

Late.

They’re fucking late.

Taking a long drag of his cigarette, Theo looks down at his watch. 

Twenty minutes late, to be exact.

“How long are we expected to wait here?” Mattheo growls, pacing across the wood of the decrepit bar. The floorboards creak with every step. Theo is sitting at one of the tables, a sigh forcing its way out of his lungs as he watches his friend. In one hand is a cigarette, the other hand mindlessly tracing the vandalism that had been scratched into the top of the table. 

“Another ten minutes and then we’re fucking off.”

The bar has been long abandoned, making it their top choice for discreet meetings. They had cycled through a few different locations before they finally found the bar. The walls are a sloppy black color, which is mostly covered in 80’s posters, both movies and musical talents alike. Theo’s eyes drift from poster to poster. He’s seen them what feels like a thousand times, and yet he still finds it hard to tear his eyes away when he stares at them. 

An hour has already passed since their arrival, but that was due to the ungodly amount of wards and disillusionment charms that they needed to cast before the meeting, a ritual that has become quite routine. Once everything is set, they’ll briefly discuss what they’ll say, and then they wait. Theo finds the extra waiting time peaceful, usually. It gives him a chance to mentally prepare for the carnage that comes to his psyche afterwards. The guilt. The fear. But this time, the stakes are higher, increasing the tension in his muscles much too soon. He can feel the pain already in his lower back, and he doesn’t want to imagine the aches he’ll be feeling once he returns home. 

“Can’t we just kill them?” 

Theo considers this question as he lets his eyes jump back to Mattheo.

“That would probably defeat the purpose of why we’re here.”

“Sure, but I still hate Weasley and his stupid face. Just one Cruciatus curse at his ugly face would be okay, surely. I won’t even make it a long one. Four minutes tops.”

Theo boredly watches the smoke from his cigarette float up towards the ceiling as he ignores Mattheo. Every moment that passes increases his irritation. He finds himself wondering if it’s a power move on their part. They hold all the cards, so they can keep him waiting. 

Something in the air triggers, both men looking towards the door. Theo’s fingers tense around the cigarette as he brings it to his mouth to take another drag, his other hand dropping down from the table to clench around his wand as it rests on his lap. The dimly lit room has a smoky haze, all thanks to Mattheo and Theo disregarding the “No Smoking Allowed” sign that is appropriately starting to fall off the wall.

The door opens, Ron Weasley followed by Hermione Granger walking in. Theo has long lost count of how many times they’ve met with Granger and Weasley, yet it still feels jarring every time he sees them. Maybe it’s because their appearance catches him off guard each time.

Despite them all being in their mid twenties, they all look tired and worn. The rosey cheeks that Granger sported while they were in school are now gaunt and hollow. Dark circles are painted under her eyes, along with Weasley’s, and she keeps her bushy hair contained in two french braids going down her back. Weasley keeps his hair short now, and his body is more built than it had ever been when they were at Hogwarts. His boy-like features are long gone, with gray already peppering his ginger hair, and if Theo didn’t know any better, he would’ve guessed that Weasley was in his late thirties at the least. The life in their eyes had long drained out, replaced with a coldness that chilled anyone who happened to be stuck in their gaze.

War hadn’t been kind to Theo or Mattheo either.

Mattheo has more scars on his face than he did back in school, and he grew his hair long in a feeble attempt to hide them. There was a time that he wore them like a badge of honor, but since the start of the war and his PTSD becoming worse than ever, they no longer were something he pretended to be proud of. He’s since developed an anxiety twitch, his whole face seeming to spasm whenever there’s a loud noise not caused by him, or tense moment. Though they don’t live together anymore, now that Theo has full ownership of Nott Manor, when they had, Theo could remember all the nights of hearing his best friend scream and cry in his sleep from across the mansion. It was more often than not, and it was unbearably hard to get Mattheo to calm down from the vivacious nightmares.

The opposite could be said for Theo. Instead of nights filled with intense dreams of death and melancholy, Theo simply doesn’t sleep. He couldn’t, for the life of him, shut his brain off. And while that had always been an issue for him to some degree, it had become exacerbated since his transition from student to soldier. Theo doesn’t know what being tired feels like anymore. It’s so ingrained in his psyche that it would be more abnormal for him to not be tired. All he can do is adjust, living off coffee and the occasional upper to keep him moving.

Weasley leans on the wall beside the door. His demeanor is much more unpleasant than normal as his eyes flit between Theo and Mattheo. Theo pretends not to notice as he looks at Granger, who’s standing in the middle of the room. She always did all the talking. Theo assumes it’s because of the way she carries herself, and they certainly take her more seriously than they could any Weasley. Besides being a fighter for the Order of the Phoenix, Granger is a war negotiator. She deals with prisoner exchanges and, eventually, peace talks. Although, considering it’s been seven years since the Battle of Hogwarts, Theo is less confident of the possibility of any sort of peace treaty happening any time soon. For the entire duration of the war, it was her that Theo dealt with when it came to these sorts of things, before and after their betrayal. 

She clears her throat.

“What information do you have for us?”

The strain in her voice is lost on no one. The tension in the air is so thick, Theo is convinced he could grab it if he tried.

Mattheo stops his pacing, turning to face her full on. His anger is palpable.

“Stop with the bullshit,” He snaps. “Let’s talk about why we’re really here today.”

Weasley’s hand tightens around his wand, but he doesn’t move. Theo keeps his eyes on him to ensure it stays that way before turning back to Granger. 

“You have Malfoy.” Theo’s voice is quiet, tone neutral.

The corners of her mouth twitch upward.

“We have Malfoy.”

Mattheo lets out a frustrated sigh.

“We can’t continue to cooperate with you until you hand him back.”

Granger’s expression doesn’t change, making it clear that this reaction was expected. 

“He’s quite the bargaining tool. What are you willing to give for him?” A beat passes. “Or I guess I should say, who?”

Mattheo turns to look at Theo, who can tell just by that exchange of a glance that his friend’s patience is wearing horrifically thin.

“We can ensure the release of Luna Lovegood and Seamus Finnegan. And we’re prepared to give you the maps of the hidden prisons in Sussex.” Theo conveniently forgets to mention that they were already planning to give them the maps, regardless of the way things went at this meeting.

Granger turns to look at Weasley, who merely raises his eyebrows, before turning back to Theo.

“He’s Draco Malfoy.” 

Theo’s hand curls tighter around his wand.

Mattheo huffs loudly, throwing his hand down and smacking it on the bar top. The sound is so loud that Granger flinches, and Weasley pushes off the wall suddenly, but doesn’t move forward.

“You know bloody well that our heads will be on a fucking spike if we don’t get him back,” He hisses at them. “Then who will aid your bloody Order? You think there’s anyone else who will risk their necks like we have? Honestly?”

“Regardless of your help to the Order, do you really think we can just hand Voldemort back one of his best fighters?” Granger's voice raises just a touch. Mattheo takes a step towards her.

“You’ll be singing a different fucking tune when we’re dead and you realize the next on the list is you. You’re losing the goddamn war. Biblically. You need us. Alive.”

Theo waits for Mattheo to finish his outburst before he turns his attention back to Granger. He knows where this is going.

Fuck, he knows where this is going. 

“What else do you want, then?”

Theo’s hands tremble slightly. He clenches his right fist around his wand even more, the left bringing the cigarette back to his mouth quickly. 

Mattheo shakes his head, turning away as he pulls a cigarette from his pocket and lights it with his want.

Granger tilts her head as she looks at Theo, her expression shifting to a tired one, as if the answer is obvious. When she speaks again, her voice is just above a whisper.

“You know who we want, Nott. It’s been almost a year.”

Theo’s nostrils flare.

“Not on the table.”

~

Suffice to say, the raid couldn’t have possibly gone worse.

How the Order could’ve been so prepared for them was beyond Theo.

One minute, everything seemed to be going to plan as Theo, Mattheo, Malfoy, Blaise and a few others sauntered into the safe house. Quick in and out. Nothing too complicated. The next, it was like the floor fell out from under their feet.

How did things get so royally fucked up?

Theo woke with a start, sitting up abruptly, covered in a layer of sweat as his eyes darted around the room. It took him a minute to get reoriented, and only then did he realize that he was in his own living room, laid on the couch with a blanket draped over him. Ripping the blanket off, his hands flew towards his abdomen. When he looked down, he found he was shirtless, but his skin was unharmed, save for some minor scarring. New editions to the collection. He then reached up and touched the top of his head. Nothing. Not even a scrape.

What?

Slowly, he kicked his feet over the side of the couch and stood up. The room spun for a moment, and his joints ached, but otherwise, he was completely normal. 

The manor was silent. So silent that it made the hairs on the back of Theo’s neck stand up. Almost automatically, he walked across the floor, his bare feet cold against the hardwood. He tried to keep his footfall soft as he continued listening for any sort of sound. There, in the faint distance, he could hear… something. Grabbing a hoodie off the back of a chair, he slipped it over his bare torso and zipped it up halfway before making his way towards the sound. 

Theo stepped into the kitchen. A flash of movement came from the other slide of the sliding door that leads to the courtyard. His hand instinctively went to grab his wand from his pocket, only for him to realize it wasn’t there. At the same moment, he also realized the person outside was Mattheo, having a smoke. His tense fingers relaxed, his arm falling back to his side.

Mattheo looked over as Theo slid the door open and walked out. 

“Look who’s awake. How’re you feeling, Sleeping Beauty?”

“Who healed me?”

Mattheo placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense.

“You wound me, Nott. You don’t think I’m capable?”

Theo shook his head almost immediately.

“It’s not as… clean when you do it. And I have the scars to prove it.” He pointed to his back, which was covered in scars thanks to a nasty run in with a car, a Bombarda cast, and Mattheo’s lack of concern to learn basic field emergency spell casting.

Mattheo sighed in resignation before saying, “You’re right. It wasn’t me.”

Theo waited for Mattheo to give elaboration, and when one wasn't given, he could feel his fingers curl into fists. Though Mattheo’s face was neutral, the tension radiating off his body could be felt a kilometer away.

“What did you do?”

Mattheo took a long drag from his cigarette, blowing the smoke out through his nostrils before turning back to Theo.

“Theo…”

“What did you do, Riddle?”

Swallowing hard, Mattheo looked away from Theo.

“We got their best healer.” 

Theo blinked. A hostage?

“You took someone?” He asked, voice low. “That… that wasn’t part of the plan.”

Not that things ever went to plan. And not that they hadn’t ever deviated so far left and forced them to take hostages before. But there was something about the way Mattheo couldn’t look at him that made Theo’s fingers run cold. 

Mattheo shook his head as he took a seat on one of the lounge chairs. He let his head fall to his chest, as if it were too heavy to hold up anymore. “That wall fell on you. You were going to die, Theo. We needed…” He inhaled sharply before looking up again. “It was beyond us. We needed the help. We needed her.” 

Theo wracked his brain. The Order’s best healer? The Order’s best healer. Why does this mean something to him?

“Who is it?”

Mattheo leaned backwards in the seat so his back laid against the chair before he pointed at Theo, as if he was preemptively defending himself.

“You’re going to thank me. You’ll be pissed. But you’re going to thank me, ultimately.”

Theo’s nose twitched.

“Mattheo… who is it?”

Mattheo nodded back towards the house before vaguely replying, “She’s upstairs, in the North wing.”

Theo’s feet didn’t move, stuck to the floor like ice. His mind was running, a plethora of questions all begging to be answered. But his mouth forgot how to work as well. For a moment, all he was able to do was stare at Mattheo, who stared back briefly before nodding towards the house again.

“Go on.” His voice was soft.

Theo’s feet kicked on again, taking him back into the house as if they were on autopilot. 

Why the hell are you so nervous? You don’t even know who it is.

His wand was laying on the end table next to the staircase, which he grabbed and shoved in his pocket. His knees buckled as he walked up the stairs. Distantly, he could hear the sound of yelling and objects being thrown around. It didn’t take him long to figure out which closed door the sounds were coming from the other side of. He stood outside the black wooden door, listening. Trying to maybe discern who it was before he went in. 

He could just make out the wards that had been placed on the door. Laying a hand on the knob, he was relieved to find that he was able to touch the brass of the handle. Mattheo had been known to incorrectly cast the spell so no one could get through, which had more than once sent Theo or Malfoy through a wall. 

A shaky sigh pushing its way from Theo’s lungs and out of his mouth, he turned the knob and let himself inside the room. 

The color drained from Theo’s face.

Standing in the middle of the room, chest heaving and anger radiating off of like a stove top, was you. 

Suddenly, Theo was back at Hogwarts, standing in the Astronomy Tower. You were no longer in your casual shirt and jeans, but instead, in your Hufflepuff robes as you looked at him and told him you were leaving to join the Order.

“This war is above us, Theo. Dumbledore is dead. Harry Potter is dead. I can’t stand idly by and watch people die. I need to do something.” 

“Yeah? And what about me?”

“You could come with me.”

“You know I can’t do that.”

“And you know I can’t stay.”

The memory hit Theo like a train. His breath hitched in his throat.

You turned to face him, freezing in the headlights of his gaze. The way your fury faltered at the sight of him made it clear that you were having the same out of body experience that he was. 

You certainly had been busy. All of the furniture in the room was broken. The night stand had been thrown against the pewter colored wall, leaving a dent in the dry wall and the wooden pieces scattered across the floor. A picture frame that Theo hung and forgot about was in ruins, the brunette girl in the picture cowering in the corner of the shredded pieces of photo paper. Feathers from the pillows littered the carpet. The mattress had been thrown off the bed frame, which was also now broken. 

Though he couldn’t focus on the damage that had been done to his guest room. He was too busy staring at you with the same confounded look he’d had when he first entered the room. 

Your hair was longer than he remembered it, pulled back so it was out of your face. Your features had grown with you, your cheekbones more prominent, your eyes with more bags, your cheeks with less color. There wasn’t a corner of Theo’s world that wasn’t burdened by war, and, unfortunately, that included you. His heart raced in his chest as he looked at you. He had locked the memory of you deep into the catacombs of his brain, not allowing himself to bring them out for any occasion. There wasn’t the time or need for it. This is war. When is there a moment for reminiscing on the worst day of his life?

But now there you were, standing in front of him, with a dumbfoundedly angry look on your face, casual clothes and longer hair. The flood gates were now opened, and he was overwhelmed with memories of you, running through his mind so quickly that he felt like he was spinning. 

Your eyes still twinkled in the light that streamed in through the curtains.

“You tell Mattheo Riddle that he can give me back my wand and we’ll see then if he’s able to force me into this room again.”

Theo flinched.

The sound of your voice alone made him feel the need to have a complete mental breakdown. You could’ve been cursing him out or singing in German and he would still feel the overwhelming urge to curl into a ball on the floor. Even with your anger, it still felt like a sweet symphony to Theo’s ears. 

He never thought he’d hear the sound again. 

Hell, he never thought he’d see you again.

Realizing you had spoken and he was just staring at you like an imbecile, he cleared his throat.

“You healed me.”

Your expression shifted, an emotion crossing your face that Theo couldn’t read. Standing a little straighter, you nodded.

“I’m a healer,” You said slowly, distantly. “It’s what I do.”

He snorted. That bleeding Hufflepuff heart.

“You could’ve let me die,” He pointed out, cocking his head to the side. 

You seemed to consider this briefly before saying, “In theory, yes.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Silence hung in the air between the two of you, coupled with the unmitigated tension. Theo’s hands were curled at his sides, not from anger, but to stop himself from giving into the inordinate compulsion to reach out and touch you. To prove to himself that he wasn’t dreaming or hallucinating. That you were actually in front of him. You shifted your weight to your other foot.

“I don’t think I really could’ve, even if I wanted to.”

The words unsaid in this moment would keep Theo up at night for weeks.

Your eyes trailed down his body, studying him, taking in his bare chest underneath the hoodie. He swallowed hard, his body seeming to freeze under your gaze. Maybe he should’ve changed before coming into the room. At least maybe thrown on a proper shirt. He’d never had a hostage in his home before. There was no protocol book on the proper etiquette. 

Especially not when the hostage was his ex-girlfriend who’s now working on the opposite side of the war. 

You let out a strangled sigh.

“You have to let me go back, Theo. They need me. No one is trained on some of the things I am.” 

The shake of his head was immediate.

“You can’t even begin to comprehend what he would do if he found out Mattheo and I had you and then just let you go back,” He said in a strained yet soft voice. “I can’t. We can’t.”

Your nose twitched as you closed your eyes.

“I won’t fucking heal for him,” You declared in a low tone. “I’d rather be strung up in Godric’s Hollow to rot like all the other people he’s executed than heal for him.”

Theo tried to be rational as he considered what to do. There was a tug of war in his mind, his loyalties competing to decide the best course of action. The obvious answer was to turn you over to The Dark Lord, where you would be put on trial for the crimes he deemed you guilty of, and then punished accordingly. With the skills you hold, Theo knew that you would more than likely be put under the Imperius curse and forced to act as a healer for the Death Eaters. 

Though the answer was obvious, that didn’t make it correct. Not to him or to anyone else.

Theo knew. He knew you’d rather die than breathe the same air as the Death Eaters, let alone fix their wounds and send them back out to kill your people. His head throbbed as he tried to think of the best direction to go in. 

Because, in his head, letting you go was simply out of the question. 

~

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” Granger asks. “We have something you want, you have something we want. We exchange.”

Theo shakes his head as he smashes the end of his half smoked cigarette on the top of the table.

“She’s not for trade.”

“Well, she’s what we want.”

A bead of sweat trails down the side of his face. He ignores it.

“She’s nowhere close to being worth the same as Draco Malfoy. This isn’t a fair trade.” He means it, but not in the way that he presented it to them. Nothing they could offer would make it a fair trade in Theo’s eyes. They could offer the end of the war. They could offer his freedom from the Death Eaters. They could offer endless riches, or immortality, or anything else he could possibly dream up. None of it would equate.

“Then we’ll gladly take Luna and Seamus back as well,” Granger says through clenched teeth, expression reading that her patience is wearing thin. “To make up the difference.”

Theo opens his mouth to respond, but Mattheo cuts in before he gets the chance.

“You’ll take what we fucking give you.”

Granger shoots him a dagger filled glare. 

“We can no longer afford to play these games with you. You have our best healer. And we need her back.” She rolls her head before her eyes fall back on Theo. “We have been patient. We have accepted that we had nothing worth trading for her. Now we do. Malfoy’s importance to the Death Eaters is well known. Don’t patronize us by pretending we don’t have the upper hand here.”

A chill runs through Theo’s spine.

She’s right.

God dammit, she’s right.

Theo runs a hand through his messy hair, the most he’s moved since he sat down. His brain scrambles to come up with something, anything, that he can offer to remedy this. There has to be something of equal value. There has to be something he can give that would make them decide to let you stay. 

“Before you try to come up with some feeble offer, know that we won’t be backing down from this,” Granger says as if she’s reading Theo’s mind. “You won’t be getting Draco Malfoy back unless we get her, regardless of what else you give. She’s the only card you have that could get him back.”

Theo’s eyes snap back to Granger, the anger boiling in his chest.

“This is a negotiation, is it not?” He repeats her words back to her. She smiles at him, but the gesture does not reach her eyes.

“Maybe negotiation is the wrong word for it.” She hums thoughtfully. “It’s more like a plea deal. Take it or leave it.”

~

“You’re up late.”

Theo jumped at the sound of your voice as he quickly flicked the light on.

He didn’t expect to find you in his kitchen, sitting cross legged on the island counter with the lights off. A bowl of what he could only assume was cereal was in your hands.

He glanced at the clock on the wall.

“It’s four in the morning.”

You glanced up at the clock as well, before shrugging. 

“Fine, you’re up early.”

A smile tugged at the corners of Theo’s mouth. 

He could feel you studying him as you brought the spoon to your mouth. A flush of warmth filled his cheeks as he made his way to the fridge, making it a point to turn away from you. Still, he knew your eyes never left him. 

“You still don’t sleep much, huh?” You asked, mouth full of cereal.

He sighed as he pulled the carton of orange juice off the shelf.

“I’d say I don’t sleep at all these days.”

He popped the top of the carton before bringing it to his mouth and throwing his head back. You watched him carefully, seeming to pause your eating.

“You’re a feral one now, aren’t you?” You asked in a playful tone. “Drinking right from the carton? Who have you become, Theodore Nott?”

He laughed, the sound being so foreign to him these days, before saying, “I generally live alone, and I never host other people. No need to waste a glass, as far as I’m concerned.”

Him ignoring the last comment of yours was intentional. Despite the playfulness behind it, Theo doesn’t know how you would feel about the man he’s become, and he doesn’t want to dwell on that fact. 

You continue to laugh as you shake your head.

“Mad behaviour.”

Theo eyed you. 

“Says the girl sitting on the counter, in the dark, eating cereal.”

You smiled as you take another bite.

“Got me there.”

It had been almost two months since Mattheo had taken you hostage and made you Theo’s problem. In an attempt to keep peace, Theo gave you free reign of the entire manor and all of the land around it. After repairing the furniture in the guest room (multiple times, as you had to get your frustration out somehow), Theo allowed you to stay there. Before his death, Nott Sr. had created a dungeon-esque holding below the house, with cage like cells and torture weapons, but Theo had the area of the house completely closed off upon his arrival as head of estate, and he wasn’t planning to reopen it anytime soon. Besides, the thought of locking you in an actual cell made Theo physically ill. 

“How’s the escape plot going?” Theo asked as he leaned against the counter adjacent from you, juice carton still in hand.

“Considering I can’t apparate because you already had anti apparation wards in place, the wards Mattheo placed that are linked to my DNA so I can’t leave the estate at all, and that bed being the most comfortable thing I’ve ever slept on…” You listed, raising a finger with every reason. “ … I’d say it’s going quite terribly.”

Theo’s eyebrows hit his hairline as he let out a surprised huff.

“Mattheo has always been quite meticulous.”

“Well, he said he was afraid you’d let me go.”

Theo’s smile faded quite quickly. 

The first couple of weeks following your capture, you had made yourself scarce around the manor, mostly spending time in the North wing. Theo made it a point to stay out of your way. Not only for the sake of your anger, but because he needed to work out his own emotions about you being there. Even in this moment, looking at you in the kitchen, he still hadn’t quite worked out how the whole thing made him him.

After the first couple of weeks, you had slowly started making your way through the manor, exploring every crevice. Every nook and cranny. Theo knew it was to look for a weakness to exploit that could lead to your escape, but he didn’t comment that to you. Just let it sit in the back of his head.

With your emergence from your room also came your increased interactions with the dark haired lad. It was painful at first, just a curt nod here and there, but it slowly built up to exchanging jokes and sarcastic comments, and even as far as the two of you reading books in silence together in the library.

It was almost as if there was never a moment between the days you and him spent together at Hogwarts and now. Just cut the time apart out and sew the rest together like the war never happened.

Theo often found himself wondering if he was one of the weaknesses you were attempting to exploit. 

Your comment about Mattheo believing Theo would let you go did nothing to snuff out that thought.

He tried not to think about it too much.

You watched him carefully as he took another long sip of juice from the carton.

“Have you decided what you’re going to do with me yet?” 

Theo rolled his eyes, setting the juice on the black countertop next to him. 

“Nope.”

He didn’t bother to ask how you knew it was even up for debate. You’d always had a knack for just knowing things. And he couldn’t imagine that his debates with Malfoy and Mattheo were as quiet as he would’ve liked them to be.

“What are you leaning towards?” You asked innocently, your eyes studying him. He bit the inside of his cheek as he considered how to answer.

“Let’s see,” He mumbled. “Malfoy thinks I should turn you in. He doesn’t see why you’re useful here, and says you’d be better suited as a healer for… them.” He decided not to say Death Eaters, but you flinched at the idea anyway. “Mattheo thinks I should keep you here.”

Your eyes didn’t leave him as you took another bite of your cereal. Theo mirrored you with the orange juice. 

“But what are you leaning towards?”

“Not turning you in, that’s for damn sure.”

Your gaze pinned him, as your eyes narrow only slightly.

“So I’m stuck here then.” It was more of a statement than a question, and something about it made an ache burst through Theo’s chest. He had no idea how to respond, so he opted to say nothing, instead bringing the juice carton back to his lips. Your eyes followed him. “Theo, you’re a rational person. You know that I don’t want to be here. Why can’t you just let me go back to the Order?”

His eyes fluttered shut.

“It’s complicated.”

You set the bowl down on the counter before looking back up at him.

“Then simplify it for me.” 

All he could say in a breathy whisper was your name.

He didn’t know how. He couldn’t even simplify it for himself. 

~

It all happens at once.

Theo quickly stands, pushing the chair out from under him so quickly that it glides across the floor and into the wall. 

Weasley rushes forward, his wand pointed at Theo.

Mattheo grabs Weasley by the scruff of his shirt, roughly shoving him into the wall with the tip of his wand jabbing into the ginger’s jugular. The impact of his back against the hard surface causes Weasley to drop his wand, which Mattheo swiftly kicks across the floor. 

Granger puts her wand only inches from Mattheo’s head, though he doesn’t appear to notice. 

Theo directs his wand to Granger.

“The difference between you and I, Weasley,” Mattheo hisses in his face. “Is that I don’t have any pathetic qualms about making a person suffer. So please. Point your wand at one of us again. We’ll see who comes out the bigger man.”

“That’s enough, Riddle!” Granger shouts, pressing her wand into Mattheo’s temple. Theo steps forward and jams his wand through her hair and into her occipital scalp.

“Drop it.”

A beat passes.

Mattheo’s face twitches.

Granger slowly lowers her hand, her jaw clenched so tight that Theo is convinced her teeth will crack.

“We all want the same outcome,” She says in a quiet voice, still glaring daggers at Mattheo.

“It’s how we get there that we can’t seem to see eye to eye on,” Theo growls. 

Letting his hand drop back to his side, Theo takes a step back towards the table he had previously been occupying. 

“Let him go, Mattheo.”

The curly haired man glares into Weasley’s face for a moment longer, letting his deep breath smack against the ginger’s face before he shoves him away. Theo’s eyes follow Mattheo as he walks back to his pacing area, and then they flick back to Granger. She looks incensed over what just occurred, as Weasley adjusts his shirt, embarrassment painting his cheeks pink.

Theo opts to stay standing this time. 

“She’s not a part of the equation,” He says in a low tone. “We can give you the maps, Finnegan and Lovegood for Malfoy. Or we can give nothing at all.” 

A draft fills the room as the wind can be heard whipping outside over the silence. 

“And again, we are well aware of Draco’s importance to the Death Eater army,” Granger says in a tone that matches Theo’s. “There is no option. It’s her or nothing.”

Theo fights the urge to curse her.

“Then it’s nothing.”

~

The door hit the wall so hard, Theo could almost feel the drywall dent. In the moment, however, he couldn’t give less of a shit.

You whipped around to face him. The anger on your face couldn’t be missed, but neither could his. For a while, the two of you just stared at each other, speaking through daggered glares and heaving chests, as if words weren’t necessary. 

It was a moment of deja vu, calling back to the first time the two of you met in what became your assigned bedroom of the house. Both times equally as tense, but for radically different reasons. And this time, all of the pieces of furniture were entirely intact. 

Finally, Theo broke the silence.

“What business do you have, entering the field?”

Your nostrils flared.

“What business do you have, almost getting yourself killed?”

A breeze came in through the window, chilling the room further. As if it needed the help. 

“I was handling myself fine,” He said in a low voice. “Injuries are bound to happen-“

“A pelvic fracture and an open head wound are both severe injuries,” You countered in a raised voice. “You may have felt fine in the moment but you wouldn’t have after you lost two liters of blood just from the fractured pelvis alone. You needed care.” 

Theo felt like throwing things as the anger flared heavily in his chest.

“I could’ve apparated back to the manor after-“

“You would’ve splinched yourself with that severe of injuries, Theo,” You snarled, looking exasperated. “Mattheo came and got me.”

Theo made a mental note to kick the absolute shit out of Mattheo the next time he saw him.

“You could’ve said no!” He shouted. “You’re not my bloody on-call healer who gets to risk her life whenever I almost die.” The image of you in the middle of the fight, dodging multiple green casts in your wake, was burned into his retinas. Despite being safe in the Manor now, his chest was still reeling from the panic that flooded his heart and lungs when he fought to get to you.

You took a rushed step forward.

“Don’t fucking do that,” You said in a strained voice. “You don’t get to drag my arse back into your life-“

“You think I wanted this for you?” He shouted, cutting you off. “I didn’t drag you anywhere. I didn’t bring you here. I didn’t ask for this.”

You took another step towards him, more controlled this time. Theo almost took a step backwards to keep the distance.

Almost.

“But you kept me here. Why am I still fucking here, Theo?”

The words left his mouth before his brain had a chance to even consider them.

“Because you fucking left me before I was fucking done with you!”

Theo’s chest heaved, as he stared down at you. The room became painfully silent, the only sound being Theo’s breathing. You were holding your breath. 

“What does that mean?”

Theo didn’t hesitate for a moment.

“You left me to join the Order. You left me behind and I went bloody maniacal. I didn’t know a person could be touch starved for a specific set of hands, but your fingers burned their prints into my skin and I can’t get them to goddamn heal. And then Mattheo dropped you on my fucking door step and it was like I was an imprisoned man who just felt the warmth of the sun for the first time in years.”

You were frozen, staring at him like a deer in headlights.

“Theo…” A breathy whisper.

Theo shook his head, feeling a mix of anger and desperation in his head and heart. When he spoke, his voice was more calm this time, taking a low tone. 

“If love were a language then the only one I know how to speak is the one we wrote together. I couldn’t lose you again. I can’t lose you again.”

It was unclear who moved first. Maybe Theo. Maybe you. Maybe both. But somehow, the distance between the two of you closed, and Theo’s mouth was crashing against yours.

His left hand was on the small of your back, the other on the back of your head. His fingers weaved through your hair with a firm grip, as if to keep you from pulling away. Your hands were on his cheeks, lightly cradling his head between your palms as your fingertips teased the beginnings of his hairline. 

“I love you,” He said in a silent voice, his lips still pressed against yours in the desperate kiss. “I never stopped.”

“I love you too.” Your words came without a sliver of hesitation.

His tongue parted your lips, as your fingers moved to the back of his head. A groan forced its way up his throat. Your nails against his scalp drove him insane. It always had. Theo knew you knew that well. 

And with that, he pushed you onto the bed. 

~ 

“So…”

Theo closes his eyes at the sound of Mattheo’s voice. His steps are slow as they walk up the pathway of Nott Manor. In an effort to prolong the inevitable, Theo pulls a cigarette from his pocket, setting it between his lips before lighting it with his wand. 

“We don’t have a choice, do we?”

Theo looks up at the sky as he blows a plume of smoke upwards to join the clouds. He can’t look at Mattheo.

“No,” He finally says. “We don’t.”

Mattheo pulls a smoke of his own out, lighting it before taking a deep inhale. The only sounds in the air are the wind and his exhale.

“What if we just stopped aiding them?” He suggested after a beat too long of silence. “They’re losing. They need the information we’re feeding them. A few weeks without it would have them feeding out of our palms.”

Theo considers this as he plops down on the top step leading onto the porch. The cold from the wood seeps through his trousers.

Not that his body held any warmth to begin with. Not since he walked out of that bar.

“We don’t have a few weeks.”

Another cloud fills the air.

“The Dark Lord wants Malfoy back now.”

Theo’s heart already feels hollow as he thinks about what he is getting ready to do. 

Mattheo paces the cobblestone pathway, running his fingers through his curls as he takes another long drag of his cigarette.

“There has to be a way.”

Theo studies his friend. There’s very few people Mattheo holds loyalty to. The Order wasn’t on the list, despite the way they were risking everything to help them. The other Death Eaters didn’t have it. Hell, even his own father only held enough of Mattheo’s loyalty to keep him alive. Not enough for it to matter.

But Mattheo, from the moment they met until this moment in front of Nott Manor, was always fiercely loyal to Theo. And the way he desperately tries to come up with a solution to fix this for Theo pulls at his heart.

Because his loyalty to Theo also extends to you. When Theo told Mattheo that he was planning to betray Voldemort’s army in an effort to end the war and keep you with him, Mattheo wasted no time in joining him. No questions asked.

Mattheo was willing to risk his head to keep you safe if that was what Theo needed. And in this moment, Theo knew he didn’t thank his friend enough. 

His hands shake slightly as he brings the cigarette back to his mouth.

“I don’t think there is.”

He doesn’t want to sound as defeated as he does. But as his mind runs a million kilometers a second, it still comes up short on a way of getting out of this. 

Mattheo shakes his head angrily.

“This is bullshit.”

And Theo says nothing, his gaze fixed on the ground as he finishes his cigarette, and plans what he’s going to say once he goes inside. 

~

Oh Merlin, do I really have to leave?

Theo sat on the edge of his bed, staring down at your sleeping form. Your back was facing him, the blanket low enough to show the bare skin of your upper torso. 

He swallowed hard.

Five minutes. Just another five minutes.

But he knew he wouldn’t stop at five.

He was in his Death Eater robes, dressed to leave. This meeting wasn’t one he could afford to miss, and yet, watching you sleep in his bed was enough to make him at least consider it. 

Reaching over, he traced the lines of your right scapula, moving down to the left, feeling your smooth skin and shoulder blades beneath his fingertips. Your body rose and fell with every breath you took, but you did not stir at his touch. He brushed your hair down to the side so it all fell concurrently onto the sheets. 

Every time he tried to stand, his legs would defy him. 

Bloody hell, this is impossible, he thought to himself.

The temptation to kiss you was strong, but he resisted. He didn’t want to wake you, because then you would know he was leaving, and then you’d ask questions. One’s he didn’t yet want to offer up the answers to.

You didn’t know what he was about to do.

The door creaked open, making Theo jump. Mattheo stood at the threshold, also in his robes. His eyes flitted between his friend and you, before they settled on Theo again. All he did was nod, a gesture that Theo returned, before turning and leaving once again.

A sigh forcing its way out of his lungs, Theo stood up from the bed. Before walking out the door, he threw one last fleeting glance your way.

This better fucking work.

Once the door to his bedroom was shut, Theo walked through the manor in a flash, before finding Mattheo standing in the front garden. His friend gave him a look, and it was not lost on Theo the anxiety in his expression.

“Are you sure about this?”

Mattheo’s words hung in the air, swirling around above them with the wind. Theo slowly let his head fall backwards as he stared at the sky. For once in his life, his thoughts weren’t racing. He was confident in this decision. He had never been more confident about anything. 

“I’m sure.”

No more words were said. 

Grabbing Mattheo’s forearm, the two men apparated. When they reappeared, it was in an empty warehouse in Sussex. Windows lined the walls just a meter or so below the ceiling. The walls themselves were painted an off white colour that left them looking dirty, with hand prints and muck dusting the paint. It felt too big, in Theo’s opinion. If this were to become a regular thing, they’d need something smaller. With seats, preferably.

The two got to work, placing wards and disillusionment charms everywhere they could. Before they knew it, a whole hour had passed, and they were just finishing up. 

“You know I hate this right?” Mattheo asked as they regrouped in the center of the giant room. He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Not what we’re doing necessarily but this meeting?”

Theo had to fight the urge to laugh.

“You think I like this any more than you do?”

Mattheo shook his head as he looked around the warehouse, taking in the metal beams that lined the ceiling. 

Theo took the moment of quiet to get his thoughts in order. Ever since he sent that damn letter, he had dreaded this moment. And now it was here, and though he had spent countless hours stewing and preparing, right now, he felt completely naked and defenseless. 

A sensation filled the air. Theo looked over at the same time that Mattheo did. The door creaked open, the sound echoing off the walls and around the air, before Hermione Granger, followed by Ron Weasley, the Weasley twins, Dean Thomas, Ginny Weasley, another Weasley they couldn’t place, and the blonde Triwizard Tournament champion from fourth year who Theo, for the life of him, could not remember the name of.

“All Gryffindors, mostly Weasels,” Mattheo mumbled under his breath. “Too much bloody red around here.” 

Theo fought the impulse to laugh.

The crowd of Order members approached them, all looking apprehensive. Granger stepped forward, her eyes jumping between the two of them.

“Nott.” When her eyes bounced back to Mattheo, the disdain became more apparent. When she spoke again, she spat the word out. “Riddle.”

Mattheo gritted his teeth as Theo took a step forward, saving them the risk of what would happen if Mattheo were the next to speak.

“Granger.”

He debated on greeting the others, but decided against it. There simply wasn’t time for pleasantries. Besides, Theo didn’t particularly want to be polite to them. And he knew that Mattheo wanted nothing more than to raze the whole warehouse just because he saw that familiar flash of ginger hair one time, let alone several. So it was probably best to get right to the point.

“What’s this about?” The unfamiliar Weasley called out. 

It was hard for Theo not to grow annoyed. The amount of people in the building had him feeling overwhelmed, though he couldn’t exactly blame him. How else should they have responded? It could’ve been a trap, for all they knew. 

The moment Theo reached into his back pocket, a swarm of wands were pointing in his direction. In his periphery, he could see Mattheo’s fists clench. though he was grateful that his friend didn’t immediately start spitting off hexes and Unforgivables. Theo froze more out of politeness than fear, then slowed his movements down. With the same speed as a snail, he pulled out a couple of scrolls, tossing it on the floor halfway between where he stood and where she stood. The wands all moved to point at the scroll in the same way they would point at a bomb. 

“Those are plans for upcoming raids on your safe houses,” Theo explained. “Now you can be better prepared.”

The reaction was comical. At least, to Theo, it was.

Granger stared at the scrolls, her mouth agape. Ron and Ginny kept their wands pointed at it in a way that suggested they were convinced it was anything but a scroll. The twins backed away from it entirely. Dean Thomas stared not at the scroll, but at Mattheo specifically, confusion painting his expression. The unfamiliar Weasley with the scars on his face jumped away when Theo threw the scroll, and had not moved since. And the blonde looked like she wanted to approach it, but was too afraid to let her feet move. 

Granger was the first to speak.

“Why should we trust you?”

A draft filled the room.

“Trust us or don’t,” Mattheo quipped. “You’re losing. You’ve been losing. Pathetically. We’re guaranteeing you a win right now. Whether you decide to take that chance is up to you.”

The silence was deafening as the members of the Order all exchanged looks, looking absolutely flabbergasted by this turn of events. It was clear they were trying to have a conversation through their facial expressions. Every muscle in Theo’s body tensed as he waited for their reaction. 

This has to work, He thought to himself. 

This will work.

“What do you get out of this?”

Granger’s words hung in the hair, and though the question was for the both of them, her eyes were pointedly trained on Mattheo. When the two Death Eaters remained silent, she continued. 

“You’re betraying your families. Your fathers. What could you possibly have to gain, besides maybe a pardon from execution if we win?” She sneers. “And even that isn’t guaranteed.”

Visions of you lying in his bed, only covered by the duvet cover, overtook Theo’s head. He found himself wondering if you’d woken up yet. If you’d eaten. If you’d slept well. If you’d realised he’d left. The lump in his throat felt like a bolder when he swallowed it down. His fingertips burned with the feeling of your bare skin underneath them. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Theo sees Mattheo glance over at him. 

This is, after all, Theo’s doing. So it’s his question to answer. 

“Family isn’t everything,” Theo said in a low tone. “And some people are worth yielding for.”

~

Rise.

Fall.

Rise.

Fall.

It takes Theo a full half hour before he finally finds you in the manor. Here you are, curled up on the couch in the library with one of his robes covering you like a blanket. Your back faces him as your face is nuzzled against the fabric of the back of the couch. 

Deja vu hits him hard.

Instead of waking you, Theo sits on the ottoman beside you and counts the amount of breaths you take. At the moment, he’s up to about sixty since he started. It’s easier on his heart to sit in the silence, only filled with your quiet snores.

It’s easier for his heart to handle than what it knows he has to do. 

But he knows that he’s only prolonging the inevitable.

Letting out a deep sigh, Theo reaches over and places his hand on your shoulder, gently shaking you awake. 

“Hey,” He says in a low voice in an attempt to not startle you. “It’s me. Wake up.”

Your head springs upward, looking around at the back of the couch before you roll over to face Theo. The way your eyes light up at the sight of him makes his heart ache in a way he’ll never be able to describe. It’s like he misses you before you’ve even left. 

A soft yawn takes over your face for just a brief moment, and is quickly replaced with a tired smile.

“How’d it go?”

Theo bites down on the inside of his cheek so hard that he can taste blood.

I can’t do this.

I can’t do this.

You have to do this.

“Not great.”

The smile fades from your face. As quickly as your still waking up body allows, you sit up, rolling over to face him entirely. Theo sits up straight as you pause, watching as the wheels turn in your head to process what he had said.

“What happened?” Your voice is so small, and something about it gives Theo the impression that you already know where this conversation is about to go. He sighs heavily. The pain in his upper back makes it feel like he has the entire world on his shoulders.

“They wouldn’t return Malfoy to us,” He explains. In an effort to hide the shake in his voice, he speaks slowly. “They… they had specific conditions for his release.” 

The hush blanketing the room is only pacified by the pounding in Theo’s ears. 

If there is one thing about you that Theo knows deeply, it’s that you can’t keep your emotions off your face. So it’s to his great dismay that he watches your expression shift from confusion, to thoughtful, to realisation.

“They want me, don’t they?”

The words feel like a bullet each, piercing through Theo’s chest and implanting straight into his heart. 

I can’t bloody do this.

“Yes.”

Suddenly, the quiet that overtakes the room is less welcome as that one single word hangs over the two of you like a storm cloud threatening a downpour. The way Theo’s mind runs a million kilometers a second makes it so deafening. He can see the conflict on your face as you consider what needs to be done. The downward cast of your sleep stained eyes and the way you curl your lip in thought makes him want to burn the entire Order to the ground so he doesn’t have to even consider losing you.

He sucks in through his nose as the hand on his knee clenches tightly into a fist.

When your eyes drift back up to meet his, matching resolve in your expression, Theo has to swallow down the urge to cry. 

“When?”

His nails dig into his palm.

“Mattheo’s going to take you once you’re ready.”

A frown crosses over your face. 

“You're not going?” 

Theo can’t recall another time in his life where he’s felt as broken as he does now, looking into your sad stricken and confused eyes.

He’s losing you again.

He’s losing you again. 

“I can’t.” He swallows the lump in his throat that makes his words come out choked. “I… I wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

He lets the rest of his thoughts remain left unsaid. That he would kill them before they could even leave the area with you. That he’d kill every last one of them for taking the only good thing he’d had during this god forsaken war. The entire reason he had broken his loyalties to the Dark Lord in an attempt to put it to an end. 

And now, he has to watch you leave him.

Again.

Anguish and surprise conflict your face, making him take your hand in his and hold it tightly.

“I’ll figure it out, okay?” The desperation in his voice is so palpable that you can feel it bleeding onto the skin of your fingertips. Theo’s eyes never leave yours. “I’ll finish this. For you. For us.”

You fill the spaces between his fingers with your own.

You haven’t even left yet, but Theo begins to dread the ghost of your touch that will be left behind once you are. It’s a feeling he knows too intimately.

“What if we lose?” You ask him in a soft whisper. “Or what if one of us doesn’t make it?”

The air leaves Theo’s lungs, evaporating from the heat of your words.

He wants to dig a bunker and hide you in it, keeping you far away from the sins of the war and the pain of ever leaving his side. He wants to blow up the world and watch from space with you on his arm. He wants to do anything, literally anything that would take away the hurt in your eyes. 

Images of the many ways he wishes to kill the Dark Lord and end this devastation flash through his mind.

“I need you to hear me when I say this,” Theo says in a slow tone. “I will do whatever it takes to ensure my return to you. Even if that means I have to blow through the gates of hell myself and crawl out of my grave. Make no bloody mistake. I will come back for you.”

[taocard]

freminet + aquarium date

♡ I grant a wish for whoever summons me and take one thing as a payment ♡ 𝐬𝐰𝐨'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: I'm making a masterlist soon! so navigation will be much easier! 𝐅𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Freminet ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ ❄ first of all, Lyney never thought the day would come when his little brother Fremi would gain the courage to ask you on a date "i-it's not a date we're just handing out!" Freminet softly protests "Sorry but I disagree. why else would you be resembling a tomato right now?" "...shut up" ❄ Lyney helps Freminet get ready like he's a proud mom all of a sudden ❄ Freminet drove you to the aquarium on his scooter and was all blushy when your arms wrapped around his waist (modern au Fremi has a scooter. I take zero objections.)

❄ he will link pinkies with you when you're walking around. he is shy and doesn't know how to just hold your hand :(( ❄ he'll ease up after 10 minutes i promise. if you are relaxed then so is he ❄ and he's in his natural habit here! ❄ you know those signs everywhere that say fun facts about each thing? you two aren't even reading those because Fremi is actually a huge nerd about the ocean and telling you all the facts himself. and he makes it more interesting too! ❄ the absolute sparkle in his eye while he's geeking out and telling you about a fucking sting ray is actually so cute. ❄ like, please. let him talk his ear off. if he's talking it means he likes you. ❄ istg. he could have a podcast about the ocean and you'd listen to like its asmr with that soft and soothing voice of his. ❄ oh! and! he will take photos for you! if you're someone who likes to take pictures and post them on social media he can do the photo taking for you. he's actually a really good photographer (probably from how much Lyney needs pictures taken for his own social media page. so Fremi has some experience) ❄ he'll have this gentle look in his eye when he takes pictures of you smiling and looking at the fish and things ❄ he is definitely making the background on his phone a picture of you after this oh my lord ❄ he is so whipped for you :(( ❄ if you say you want to take a selfie with him he will get shy. like, he is the one taking pictures, not the one in the photo.

❄ but just explain to him it's a picture for only you to see and no one else and he'll ease up and take the photo with you. he'll do it for you just don't show it to anyone please because he thinks his smile is ugly ❄ LISTEN HERE. TAKE NOTES. ❄ SAY HIS SMILE IS CUTE. SAY HIS SMILE MAKES YOUR DAY. I DO NOT CARE HOW YOU DO IT. JUST COMPLIMENT HIS SMILE AND HE'LL FEEL ALL WARM AND GIDDY IT IS SO WORTH IT AND WILL GIVE YOU EXTRA BONUS POINTS. ❄ his favorite part has to be where you can pet the different baby sharks in the tanks. he absolutely loves the sensation of their backs and fins. HE WON'T ASK FOR IT. BUT TAKE A PIC OF HIM TOUCHING THE BABY SHARK AND SEND IT TO HIM. like he will actually appreciate it and hang the photo up on a wall at home or something ❄ best for last is the gift shop! ❄ OK OK OK HERE ME OUT

❄ you're wandering around the gift shop and he's obviously gonna pay for whatever you want cause he is so polite and gentlemen material like that ❄ and he will ask you "has something caught your eye?" ❄ AND THERE IS 2. MATCHING. PENGUIN PLUSHIES. ON THE SHELF AND THEY WERE THE ONLY ONES LEFT LIKE HELLO IT WAS PRACTICALLY FATE ❄ now you two are matching! ❄ imagine after the date and moving forward or whatever, if you two are on a phone call, he is staring at the penguin plush because it reminds him of you, and it's kind of funny how it's like your voice isn't coming from the phone but from the plush ❄ he now carries around that plush. because. it reminds him. of you. and it makes him so warm inside. ❄ when he drops you off at your doorstep for the night he will be so happy to hear you say: "I had fun, we should do this again sometime" ❄ cause it means he did something right! he has no idea how someone as cool as you would like someone like him but it worked out! YIPEE

❄ PLEASE. PLEASE KISS HIS CHEEK BEFORE YOU GO INSIDE

❄ HIS HEART WILL BEAT SO FAST HE'S WORRIED YOU MIGHT HEAR IT. ❄ like. he put his hand over his heart to try and quiet it so you wouldn't hear it :(( ❄he is this little blushing mess and has the cutest smile on his lips ❄ don't lose this one. he's a keeper. ❄ when he gets home he's stuffing his beat red face into a pillow and lightly kicking his feet

[yandere-romanticaa]

I've had a very fun and fruitful conversation with @allfearstofallto and she had some very strong reactions for a story about yandere Diluc and Tartaglia that has been marinating in my mind for a while now. I'll just give you a brief version of my idea.

You and the 11th Fatui Harbinger are to be wed. With your freedom stripped away from you and with your wedding date fast approaching, you are working tirelessly to escape the Harbinger's grasp.

However, even with your freedom stripped away, even if you have no autonomy on your own, there's an inkling in your heart in which you cannot hate your captor. He is far too kind and gentle towards you, the way in which he treats you makes your heart swell with a plethora of emotions.

But enough is enough.

You need to leave. Fast.

One evening, you act sweeter, more submissive than usual. Your fiancee eats it up and is delighted by this change in attitude. His happiness is evident because now things can proceed without a hitch. Don't worry darling, you won't be anywhere near his work. He'll keep you safe, fed and loved.

All he asks in return is to be in your heart. Love him. Love him, please. It's a hard request, a selfish one even, he knows this.

He can make it up to you. He can and he will.

He promises.

You kiss him in bed, telling him that you understand. Your eyes shift towards the hidden suitcase in the corner as you feel the drugs start to kick in. Tartaglia is fast asleep, and you finally taste the sweetness of freedom.

The man wakes up the next morning in a daze. The bed is empty and cold.

His heart shatters into a million pieces. He roars out your name like a wounded animal, his throat sore and bleeding from the pain.

He must find you.

Meanwhile, you made your way towards the City of Freedom.

You settle in, find a job, a place to live in. It's hard but you manage.

You ignore the lingering presence that you feel behind you when you're alone at night. You're making it all up, you keep telling yourself.

No one is following you.

One evening, you enter a cozy tavern. You order a drink and it is prepared by a handsome, albeit stoic bartender. You manage to get him to open up. He introduces himself as Diluc, the owner of the fine establishment in which you sat in.

How neat.

Due to various different factors, after a short while Diluc takes you in. He is patient and strict. It's an improvement.

You don't know about his ever growing obsession with you. You don't know about the endless sea of portraits he has of you. He keeps it all hidden well under wraps.

Regardless, Diluc is still only human. It's only natural that his jealousy would bubble up and rear in its ugly head from time to time.

Dawn Winery is in a way, forced to attend a massive social gathering. Diplomats from the North are everywhere and, of course, Tartaglia spots you in the crowd.

Even if his eyes were to be plucked out, he would always manage to recognize you.

Tensions rise and the danger of bloodlust reeks in the air. Much to his chagrin, Childe cannot simply just kill Diluc and be done with it.

He is being forced to play Mr Nice Diplomat.

Oh the horror, being stuck between these two.

Now, since this has the potential to be long as fuck, I was thinking of making it into a multiple part story. The best name I could come up with it so far was "A Song of Ice and Fire". I'm open to title names, if someone has better ideas. An important note to add would be that this would be a serious commitment for me as I haven't done a story like this in years. Chapter updates would probably take me a long time due to my job and potential lack of energy, but this idea has been in my brain for years now, which is a clear sign that I'm passionate about it. And, my question is - would you like for me to make this story come to life?

[st-kitten]

707 pt.3

← previous chapter christmas special

A/N: um... i've got two small special effects for this part, sooooo see if u can use them at the right moment :")

WARNINGS: trauma, implied death by accident, a good cry honestly, violence (intended IM A GIRLS GIRL BUT SOME THINGS ARE OKA-), that shlong, sloppenheimer (kidding: oral sex, both receiving), age gap (newsflash 😒) (reader is obv 20+ and toji is idk 38?)

"can we call y/n? for cake?" asked megumi.

"i'm not sure she wants to see anybody today, kid," replied a distressed toji

"but it's my birthday..."

toji couldn't resist megumi's puppy eyes. but he figured that if there was anyone you'd listen to, it would be him. it was worth a try.

both of them stepped out of their apartment, hearing music coming from your apartment. toji felt his breath returning to his lungs. music meant you were okay. or at least alive. your singing got clearer as the two of them stood outside your door. he tried knocking but it was left unanswered. toji wondered whether it was just a recording playing, so he pressed his ear on the door. no, that's definitely her. open the fucking door, y/n!

all toji had as a sign that you were inside were was you were singing.

[mention: easy on me, by adele, again for the lyrics ft.]

"i know there is hope in these waters..." is she crying?

"but I can't bring myself to swim, when i am drowning in this silence..." your voice croaked in the end. she's definitely crying. what the fuck did i do...

toji looked around the lobby. seeing it empty, he grabbed your doorknob and pressed hard on it, tearing it apart, breaking it. he gave it to megumi. he barged inside your barely lit, dark living room, only to find you sitting on the floor, head against the sofa, looking at the ceiling. broken glasses and torn papers surrounded you as you sang at the top of your lungs, voice overcome with some kind of pain that toji couldn't understand, but just feel.

"you can't deny how hard I've tried i changed who I was to put you both first but now I give up..."

"i was still a child..."

"so go eas-" hearing the door blast open, you stopped, whipping your head in its direction.

you were about to bark at toji when you saw the look on his face. fear... then you saw megumi, holding your doorknob, standing behind his father.

toji saw your grief-stricken face. the haunting melody of whatever heart-wrenching song you were singing still echoed in his ears, reaching out from the walls like a desperate cry for help. your disheveled hair clung to your face, a stark contrast to the carefree spirit that used to reside next door.

"w-what are you d-"

"what happened?"

toji treaded carefully around the broken glass, telling megumi to wait where he stood. he knelt down beside you, pushing away the small shards.

you sat there, too horrified to say anything. why is he here? a small shaky breath left your mouth, the rest bubbling up like lava, ready to erupt.

"i don't know what i did baby, but i'm sorr-" toji's apology went unheard as tears streamed down your face and a cry tore through the air like a wounded animal's howl. it was guttural, unrestrained, and laced with a pain so visceral that toji felt it in his bones. the sound wasn't pretty; it was raw and unfiltered, like the ugly side of life laid bare for anyone in earshot.

without a second thought, toji enveloped you in a tight embrace, pulling your trembling shoulders into him. he sat on the floor next to you, one leg folded down and the other tucked to his chest. he felt an involuntary shiver run down his spine as you sobbed into him.

"it's okay..." was all he could say. even he knew that it wasn't about fixing everything; it was about being there in whatever storm was raining down on you. he looked at megumi, unsure about how his son would take seeing you break down. the child stood a silent witness to all of it, his eyes glistening slightly.

"why is it okay?" you muttered. "for parents to be your first bullies..."

"what... stopped them," you sniffled, "from just listening to me?"

toji held onto every word that came out of your mouth. a part of him was relieved that this wasn't about him.

"i didn't want a fucking cake... i didn't want a cake, i just wanted them..." your breath hitched.

"you spend half of your life raising a child in the cruelest way... your last words to each other end up being an argument and... your last words to me were nothing..."

toji felt a knot in his stomach. he watched megumi leave and go back to their apartment. he was torn between his kid, disturbed on the eve of his birthday and the woman he was cradling, on her birthday...

as the echoes of your cry faded, they left behind a heavy, oppressive silence. only your shaky breath could be heard. he sat beside you, his eyes searching for the right words as you wiped away the tears that had traced down your cheeks.

"birthdays are supposed to be happy, ya know..." he whispered to you, as gently as he could. as if the wrong words would shatter you.

"they're also supposed to be spent with family apparently..." you said, gritting your teeth. toji didn't know what to say... he wanted so desperately to talk to her. but how do you even say something at a time like that?

megumi's small steps echoed in your living room. both of you looked at him. you felt like bawling your eyes out and toji simply smiled at his son.

megumi carried a small plate with a loaf of bread sitting atop, two tiny candles buried in it, their flames flickering in the dark room. he stood in front of you, holding out the plate to you with his tiny hands.

you held the plate, placing your hands on his. you glanced at the clock, which was seconds away from midnight. you blew one candle, covering the other with your palm. and when the clock struck 12, megumi blew the other candle out.

"happy birthday, gumi," you put the plate down and hugged him. he wrapped his tiny hands around you, resting his head on your shoulder. "happy birthday, y/n," he said softly.

hours passed by as you talked to toji about your unforeseen disappearance. megumi had fallen asleep in your lap and you stroked his head. you told him about your 13th birthday, your parents death in a car crash... you left some things off the conversation. oh, how toji felt each word you said. he knew how ruthless families could be. his own was never kind to him. he told you about his scar in return, and how he felt insecure about it.

"it's kinda hot, if you ask me." seemed like you were back to being your normal self.

toji smirked. "i know. you wouldn't stop kissing it last night."

you smacked his chest with the back of your hand. but it brought you two to that conversation. toji wanted it off his chest.

"i like ya."

you looked at him, taking a shallow breath.

"not just 'cause we made out yesterday. i'm the worst person to talk about feelings and shit to, but... i got 'em. for you." toji was done with it. he didn't want to stretch it any further. not after the day you'd had.

you opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off, "sit with it for a while. ya don't need to answer me right now."

toji picked megumi up from your lap, carrying him in his arms. he pressed a soft, patient kiss to your lips. "belated happy birthday," he said against your lips, got up and left, leaving a large hole in your door.

[ambient song y/n might vibe to: jeene mein aaye maza, by ankur tiwari]

you wandered aimlessly in the convenience store, picking up things and putting them back where they didn't belong. you circled the whole store thrice until the cashier asked you if something was wrong. paying for cheap beer and rice crackers you didn't even want, you left the store.

you walked home in the evening, head in the clouds. (a cloud shaped like toji)

he liked you. his words hammered in your mind like construction workers at the crack of dawn. girls usually felt giddy after hearing a boy confess to them. the fuck were you feeling? and why was it some kind of diarrhoea? you mind went back to how you'd kissed and how good it felt. there was no doubt that you found him attractive. you liked spending time with him. but did you like him? what even would you do if you did? date him? be his girlfriend? mother to his child? how did one go about dating an older man? if anything, he'd end up with another child.

you walked by a park, watching children playing (mostly falling), building sandcastles in the pit (and falling on them), running around chasing nothing (and falling), scurrying into their parents' arms (guess what).

did you want to be that to megumi? because being with toji meant being with megumi and being responsible for him.

you sat down on the pavement, sipping on beer that tasted like toothpaste, pondering over what kind of life you'd build for yourself. you were not interested in hook up culture. committed relationships were made to sound like life imprisonment sentences. the titles didn't apply to you and especially him. what would being with toji even look like? once your little quinn project comes to an end, what then? would he grab the cash and bolt? would he stay? would he stay anyway?

the more you sat and thought about it, the more things blurred. you thought it best not to overthink it. he did tell you to not rush an answer. but you were not the most patient of all people. the one thing you disliked was how things get awkward every time someone confesses their feelings out of the blue and the other has to be the dealbreaker.

you decided to do the rest of the thinking at home. the city was twinkling with christmas lights and decorations. it was always a wonderful sight to see. it made you want to travel to a quaint countryside only to realise your long lost love for the holiday season and family values as you broke into song about reuniting with your childh-yes, that hallmark movie.

when you entered through the gate to your building, you spotted megumi near the postboxes. a very uncomfortable megumi... in the arms of a woman you'd never seen. she looked rich. fur coat, pradas, sunglasses that covered her whole face like a covid shield. megumi so didn't want to be held like that. your gaze fell on toji, who... drumroll... had the exact same expression as his kid. as you walked in that direction you could hear the conversation.

"he likes me, don't you think?" PLEASE that's what rich people sound like?

"just put him down," toji sighed.

"no, i'm gonna steal him!!!" she giggled, shoving her face into megumi. he flinched and pushed himself away from her.

"aww, he's so playful... toji, why don't you invite me over for a drink?"

megumi wiggled like a worm in her arms, trying to escape her grip. he twisted like a pretzel until she had to put him down. but she held onto his hand tightly. that didn't go unnoticed by toji who was growing angrier every passing minute.

"come on... it'll be fun," she sneered.

"i gotta look after my kid." that was all he said.

"i'm sure he won't mind... right meggy? you'll let daddy and i play for a while, right?" megumi tried to pry her hands off, but she tugged at him harshly.

suddenly, all the diarrhoea made sense. the blur cleared. your eyes narrowed as you observed the audacious scene unfolding before you. something in your head snapped and you took purposeful steps towards her, and offensive gaze locked, devoid of any remorse.

swatting her hand off of megumi's, you put the kid behind you protectively. in a millisecond, your hand swung with conscious thought, as you smashed the beer bottle on her head. the glass shattered on her scalp, cutting through the background noise like a warning shot.

"not. your. kid."

caught between shock and appreciation for your sudden defence, toji covered his curled mouth with his palm. he looked at megumi, who stood behind you, holding the ends of your jacket. the kid looked back at his father, smirking mischievously. toji turned his cackling laughter into an asthmatic cough.

the woman couldn't take a hint even when it hit her in the skull.

"who do you think you are?"

"how dare you hit me? do you know who i am?"

"i'm talking to you!!! hello!!!??"

you let her run her mouth. you weren't interested in what she had to say. you looked down at megumi. you could see the faint red strip that circled his wrist. you knew how manipulative it was to use toji's kid as a means to get to him. you already befell his threat. but you understood it all of a sudden.

the honest urge to protect your kid.

the woman eventually stomped and left, mouthing cuss words at passersby.

"so... care to explain what that was?" asked toji, folding his hands, looking at you with fascination.

"my answer," you said with a smile as you held megumi's little hand, rubbing the back of it with your thumb.

toji smirked proudly.

"what happened here?" asked the building watchman, who heard about the act of violence from others who witnessed it.

"nothing interesting,"

"they're saying you harassed a woman," he was quick to throw an accusing glance at toji.

"nonsense! just some personal drama," you interrupted. "that's the father, this is his son."

"and that's the unholy spirit..." toji mumbled to the guard, earning a death glare from you.

the three of you walked towards the elevator. you handed megumi the rice crackers you bought and he wasted no time in digging in. toji put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer as he whispered in your ear, "what does a fella like me have to do to see you smash another bottle again?"

"flirt with another woman and i'll gladly smash one on your head."

toji's deep chuckle vibrated in your ear.

megumi dragged you inside their house to show you his new sketches. he'd really outdone himself. he'd also made his father hang all the small drawings on the christmas tree they had in their living room. toji was glad that he'd found something to occupy himself with. not that he didn't want to spend time with the kid, but seeing him not get overly attached to a single parent relieved the giant weight on his shoulders.

"mmm! gumi, i have a gift for you."

megumi trotted to you like a puppy, eyes twinkling like stars.

"you're gonna spoil him."

"correct."

you gave him a cd. "i wrote you a song." megumi clutched the cd like a prized trophy. he opened the case and showed his father the cd. you'd chased down your producer's sales guy to put one of megumi's sketches as the cd cover.

"when did you even have time to do this?"

"last night. and today morning."

"you didn't sleep?"

you looked away from him, perfectly expecting a fatherly scolding. instead, toji just chortled. he left megumi to listen to your song on a loop as the two of you went to your apartment. (sorry megs, but this is a toji x y/n)

you closed the door, swearing that the hole where your doorknob used to be was getting bigger by each minute. not a moment later, toji had his arms wrapped around you, his mouth on yours. you dropped the grocery bags on the floor and threw your hands around his neck. bumping into nearly every piece of furniture along the way, you sauntered into your room, lips glued to each other. he kissed you like it was the last thing he could do in the world and you kissed him like it was the first thing you wanted to do before anything else.

"mmm... hold on," toji pulled away momentarily and said, "promise me one thing."

"what?"

"you don't disappear when shit hits the fan. you come talk to me."

you felt guilt churn inside you, recalling how you'd left toji and megumi to wonder what 'they' had done wrong to make you go distant.

you nodded. "i promise."

toji held you in his arms for a while, taking a look at your face. he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear and you winced.

"ow! careful, i just got my ear pierced."

toji raised his eyebrows. he pushed your hair aside and saw a helix piercing, the edge of your ear pink and slightly swollen.

"that looks like it hurt."

"oh, it did."

"then why'd ya get it?"

"i always get piercings on my birthday."

"why?" toji honestly didn't understand this form of self-harm.

"what can i say, buddy, i love getting stabbed..." you said plainly, backing away and took your shoes off.

toji snorted a laugh at your comment. "masochist."

"aww, big man uses big words now..." you said, keeping your shoes under your bed. toji simply slapped your ass.

"sadist."

"by the way, i added some background noises to our recording. it sounds so good!"

"oh? let's hear it then," said toji, sitting down on your bed. he was glad to see you be your usual confident self. last night had him tensed with worry. even though he wasn't the source of your pain, he couldn't imagine how lonely you must've felt spending your birthday crying as life wickedly toasted to your parent's death, scarring the one day you were supposed to own with pride.

you made him listen to some excerpts, but ended up talking over them anyway, excitedly telling him how smartly you had edited some things. he just watched you with a small smile. whenever you turned to face him, his eyes fell on your piercing. he counted how many you had. nine. marking nine years of an anniversary nobody would want to remember like this. four piercings on each ear and one in your nose. did you really need the pain to validate your broken heart? did it make you feel like you deserved it?

he dismissed those thoughts from his head. it was your decision. and you bore it like an ornament, and not a scar. plus, he now that he fully took your face in, he couldn't deny hot incredibly hot those piercings looked on you. the thought of you sitting through that and showing off your piercings made his stomach flip. seriously, how much more hot could you get?

as if to answer his question, your recording played in his ear, some scene at a party with your characters failing to keep their hands to themselves. his voice blended with yours like the perfect duet. the way you spoke, changing your tone, pitch, hell, even your little laugh to suit your character made him feral. he wanted to hear you more. but not for some recording. he wanted to hear you for himself.

the moment the recording ended, toji pounced on you, grabbing your neck, careful not to hurt your ear as he kissed you roughly. you gasped, but melted on the spot. you liked where this was going anyway. toji moved his lips along yours, nibbling at you mouth. he let you catch a breath, before shoving his tongue inside, only for it to hitch again.

he pushed you into your bed, immediately hovering over you. he let his hands run up and down your legs. you hummed under his touch. he felt you shuffle underneath. he pulled away for a moment to watch you sneak your phone out of the pocket, finger pressed on a red dot.

"you wanna give your fans a show, baby?" he murmured.

"nuh uh, this is for me," you panted.

toji smirked. "gotta make this good then..." he peppered kiss on your neck, sucking on your skin. he could smell that god awful coconut perfume. to ease the weight his humongous body dumped on you, he shoved his knee between your legs, hoisting himself over you properly. you practically moaned in his mouth at the feeling of his knee rubbing against you. you had no idea what to do with your hands, so you just let them stay on your stomach lifelessly.

toji broke the kiss once more, chuckling at the whine that escaped from your mouth.

"so needy..." he growled, taking his shirt off with one hand. your jaw hung open as you took him in. the way he towered you even when sitting on his knees made him seem almost... monstrous.

toji only it thought it fair to get rid of your clothes too. he held your waist and pulled you to him, hoisting you on his lap. he took your jacket off, throwing it on the floor.

"be careful with the shirt. it's vivienne westwood."

"strip then."

slowly, taking the sweet time of your life, you pulled the shirt off, turning it right side up and neatly folded it, placing it at the far end of your bed.

"you done, sweetie?" he cooed in your ear.

"done."

"lovely. put your hands to use." he had you folded under him, back on the bed, kisses getting rougher, wetter, messier. you clawed at his shoulder, back, neck, chest, every part of him that you could touch. he licked a particular spot just under your ear that made you mewl in pleasure. like a vampire, toji bit your neck, causing you to moan softly.

his free hand unclasped your bra and tossed it away.

"would it kill you to not throw my clothes here and there?"

"thought you liked it violent, baby..." he murmured in your ear, biting a hickey on your neck. he kept switching between kissing your lips and sucking at your neck while he played with your tits, squeezing them, pinching them, kneading them like dough. he was right. they did fit in his hands perfectly. he latched his mouth onto one, making you squirm under him.

toji was absorbing your body. he felt bold; bold to take what he wanted from you. well, what he wanted was you. your body, your hips, your mouth, all of it. he wanted to show you just how desirable you were to him.

the hand that roamed your waist slowly trailed down your cargo pants. you didn't even realise when he took them off, but it was good anyway. less is more.

at an agonisingly slow pace, the tips of his fingers teased you over your panties. toji took a look at you, covered in his marks, lips pink and swollen.

he chuckled, "just how many of these stupid panties do you have?"

"I FUCKING KNEW IT. PANTY THIEF!" you smacked his abs.

"they're mine now," toji murmured as back away, spreading your legs apart with his hands, grabbing at your thighs. he kissed your inner thigh languorously making his way down to your wet cunt. he took your panties off, once more putting them back in his pockets. he dipped two of is fingers inside slowly, as if he was learning about your body. he watched your every reaction, every quiver, every hitched breath as he took his time and prepped you for himself. he curled his fingers at an optimal spot and like a cat on heat, you mewled and your legs shut tight around his hand.

"uh uh uh, i need these legs wide open, darling." he knew how much you liked it when he said that. when you didn't spread them, he smacked a hard slap on your hip, causing you to gasp and giggle as you did as directed.

"don't be a brat."

"or what?"

toji didn't retort. instead, he dove straight into your cunt, painting your insides with long strokes with his tongue. he paired it with his forefinger running up and down, inside and out, pushing against your clit. hearing you whimper and pant just made him want to tease you. recording all those dirty audios with you had him gain a mind in the game. like an illusionist, his hands disappeared and he pulled away, making you pine for him.

"toji fushiguro, i will smash a bottle on your head if you ever take your mouth off me like that again..." god, you sounded so sexy.

"ya know... it makes my dick hard when you talk to me like that."

you crunched forward and grabbed his hair, pulling him back to your pussy. toji chuckled, resuming eating you out like a man starved for days.

"oh i bet it does," you said breathlessly, throwing a few more slurred taunts his way. toji extended his free hand and shoved two of his fingers in your mouth.

"put that mouth to use, brat." he groaned in pleasure feeling your tongue swirl around his fingers, sucking them, gently biting them whenever he lapped at your cunt the right away. even with his fingers stuffed in your mouth, he could hear your muffled moans loudly. he sped his pace, slipping his fingers in and out of you, lapping at your core. he felt you clench and he took it as an open invitation to increase the pressure. you let out a long, stretched moan as you gushed all over his chin.

"is this what you ladies call girl dinner?" toji took his fingers out of you, licking them and tasting you, smacking his lips.

you laughed, throwing your head back.

"ugh, shut up."

"make me," you commented, practically waltzing into the man's next plan for you. toji's hand wrapped around your throat as he pulled you up as if you weight nothing. he got off the bed, standing in front of you as you were on all fours.

"gladly," toji slid his pants and boxers down, freeing his hard-as-a-rock girth.

"this isn't fair, toji," you cried at the size of it.

"i know, baby..." he gripped your chin with his fingers, nearly crushing your jaw. you looked up at him and seeing you on your knees for him lit a fire within him.

playfully you licked his wet lip like a kitten...

"cute. but that's not gonna cut it, sweetheart."

"i'll have you know i won the popsicle eating contest in my college..."

toji chuckled, holding his cock out to your face and smacked it against your lips. "gonna keep me waitin'?"

you took his head in your mouth, swirling your tongue around it, letting the tip run between the faint slit. you bobbed your head a few times, adjusting to his length and width. you'd be grateful to have a jaw left by the time you've sucked him dry. you took his length in your, stroking what you couldn't. you felt his cock twitch and pulsate in your mouth.

"god, you're doing so well..." toji reached forward, accidentally thrusting more of his dick in your mouth, making you whimper. he picked up your phone, which had been recording every lewd sound you made and he held it by his hip. "you sound so... fucking perfect, baby... gagging over my dick like that."

he pushed your hair aside, gripping it tightly as he pushed your head further in, moaning at how good it felt to have you take damn nearly all of him.

"fuck... shit.... s' good" toji let a buffet of grunts and moans spill out of his mouth. first, because he you took him that well, and second because he wanted you to get off to his voice, just like he did to yours. he began thrusting into your mouth faster, feeling his release creeping its way up. had he known how easy it was for him to come just by getting a quick blowjob, he'd have put more work into the foreplay. but fuck, he loved every damn moment of it. how your mouth was wet and warm, how your pointed tongue knew just where to lick, how your cheeks hollowed to pull him in.

"keep going, baby... i'm almost there," he panted, closing his eyes and letting his head fall back, hips moving at a brutal pace. his mind went to you eating a popsicle for some reason and he laughed, paving the way for a guttural moan that rumbled through his mouth as he came into your mouth. you closed your eyes, letting the uncomfortable feeling pass away as you managed to swallow the barrel full of cum he just shot into your mouth.

toji pulled out, feeling euphoric. he was completely obsessed with you. he wanted to take your right there. he wanted to be inside you. fuck, he wanted to see how loud you could get for him.

a knock on your main door and a small voice calling out to toji snapped you back to your senses.

"what a cockblock," toji sighed.

you threw a pillow at him. "that's your adorable birthday boy you're talking about!"

toji changed back into his clothes, refusing to give you your panties back, earning another pillow to his face. he looked at you to make sure you still didn't have second thoughts about him. but there you were, effortlessly moving around the room, picking up the pieces of clothing he'd tossed here and there. he loved how much fun you had doing all these things with him. it made the experience twice as much worth it.

you changed into your pyjamas and led toji out of your bedroom.

"does it say 'juicy' on your ass?" he said, reading the glittery text on your pants.

"ya bet it does," you smacked your own ass, proud of your sense of fashion, no matter how ridiculous it was.

"gonna fuck that ass someday."

"fix my door first." you peeked through the hole in your door, looking at the top of megumi's hair.

you opened the door to see megumi standing in his pyjamas, holding his demon dog, yawning.

"awww, sorry for keeping your dad for so long."

megumi yawned again, nodding.

"she sang a song for me too, you know..." said toji, picking up his sleepy kid, giving you a wink. you kicked his ass, making him stagger out of your house.

"good night."

"good night..." you smiled at the two.

ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ✩‧₊

TAGLIST: @kaininety2 @ruixrei @chicken-fifi @mrsfush1guro @szillx @queendessi24 @sillysillygoofygoose @shadowmoonlight0604

[abiiors]

silent treatment 💫 // ross macdonald x reader

a/n: this is not a christmas fic, this is just something that i had in my drafts for like a month now because @the1975attheirverybest sent me a photo of ross' tour bus (the one in the banner) from when she went to the baltimore show and of course i had nasty ideas about it lmao. so yes, here we go--the tour bus fucking fic hehe. i'm still really struggling with writer's block and hate everything i have been writing so this might be a bit shit :/ cw: brat-taming kinda, smut obv, dirty talk??? general nasty behaviour wc: 2.2k

american fans are loud. 

well, all fans are loud; it’s not really a bad thing to be, but the american ones are especially loud, you’ve noticed. cheers and shouts and whoops of joy at the airport, and a collective roar that tears through the crowd every time the boys come on stage—it’s all part of the world. his world. your world. 

girls shriek and cry wherever he goes, hugging him—their bodies pressed against his, their hands holding his, boldly flirting with him too sometimes. sure, he ignores it and only smiles politely. sure, he only signs their stuff and indulges them for selfies but the burn in your chest remains just the same. dull but prominent. 

all in all, he likes america and america likes him. you? maybe not so much. 

still, it’s not all hate. it’s fun being on the tour bus and driving through the big wide expanses of the midwest, certainly fun when his hand is buried between your legs and the other muffling your moans. fun to watch your nails digging into his thigh as you chase the high over and over again before falling limp against his chest. 

today, however, you skew more towards annoyance. 

he’s been so busy, he hasn’t even had the time to look at you properly much less talk to you for longer than ten minutes—what with having to leave one city and go to the other immediately. it’s been hectic and he’s seized the chance to nap whenever he can, just like polly and john who share the bus with you. not that you blame him for it—the exact opposite of it, in fact—you’re grateful for any rest he can get. 

but the brattiness rears its ugly head sometimes. and now as you stand there in a corner, watching the instruments being taken out of their truck and brought backstage, you can’t help but bite angrily on the lollipop in your mouth. 

ross is on the phone across the room, talking to a friend or a colleague or maybe even family. you don’t know. what you do know is his eyes are trained on you and you alone—rather, on your lips closed around the lollipop, on the sticky residue on your lips. your eyes in turn move to his hand—the one gripping the phone in a vice-like grip, knuckles almost white. 

it only takes him another ten seconds to end the call and cross the room. and now here he is—towering over you, looking down at you. 

“what’s up with you?”

you shrug, tongue flat against the sweet candy, “nothing.”

“nothing?” his voice is low. mostly to conceal it from the people all around you but also full of warning. so you’ve irked him then… good.

you choose not to answer, giving the lollipop a small lick instead. there’s barely any left now but you plan to enjoy every last bit of it. 

“what, don’t wanna talk to me now?”

“me?” you ask, exaggerating the confusion in your voice. testing the boundaries. 

“yes, you,” his eyes flash a little, “don’t act like you don’t know what i’m talking about.”

it’s a dangerous game to play with him, especially the way his pupils dialate every time you swirl your tongue around the last bit of the candy, relishing it thoroughly and letting its sweetness linger on your lips. 

ross leans down, mouth directly next to your ear. “you can be a brat all you want, sweet girl. as long as you’re ready for the consequences.”

and before you’ve had the chance to reply, he bends down and closes his mouth around the rest of the lollipop. a loud crunch cuts through the silence. he straightens, smiles like nothing’s out of the ordinary and leaves you holding the now empty white stick.

ross is busy talking to the organisers of a local artists’ collective. 

he laughs and chats animatedly and listens to them talking about how much they value this opportunity that the band has created. their voices are loud and boisterous—happy, giddy, excited. a complete contrast to you sulking in the corner, scrolling through tiktok and watching one pointless video after another. 

his eyes flick to you once in while, linger on you when matty takes over the conversation. you see the warning in them so clearly. don’t be a baby. don’t pout. but you ignore and double down. if he doesn’t want to give you attention then you’re not going to beg for it. no matter how much you want to pull him into some broom closet and show him exactly what he’s missing. 

you cross and uncross your legs and send him a look. 

look what you to do me. 

he sends one back. 

busy. not now.

so you go back to your phone. scroll, a makeup tutorial, scroll, ten must buy amazon things, scroll, movies to watch this winter, scroll— a snap of his fingers breaks through your monotony. 

“come share a fag with me.”

you take your sweet time looking and him an deciding if you’re in the mood to smoke, even go so far as to make him ask again. 

“well?”

“sure.”

it’s quieter once you’re outside. there’s still the sounds of traffic and a bit of laughter floating out from the inside. somewhere someone’s playing a familiar tune and you watch ross light his cigarette. the fire casts a warm glow on his jaw briefly, on his stubble that’s coming in once again after shaving it off for halloween. 

the skin on the inside of your thighs stings from the memory. 

“open,” he says and you obey, letting him stick the end of the cigarette between your lips and taking a drag. the smoke burns but with some satisfaction you see the lipstick smudge you left behind. 

ross is just taking his own drag when you blow the smoke on his face and shrug when quirks an eyebrow. 

“generous of you to take five minutes out of your busy schedule.”

“careful, love,” he warns and lets you take another drag of the cigarette. “don’t be a brat. you know i’m busy.”

“you’re always busy.”

“is that so?” 

he looks amused and it riles you up even more. he’s the one that’s supposed to be affected, not you! a beat of silence passes and ross slowly drags his fingers up your arms leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

“my gorgeous girl,” he says and presses a kiss to your shoulder, moving his mouth to your jaw and then to your collarbone. “are you mad at me?”

“no.”

“no?”

you fight to contain the shiver that passes through you. even when you can feel the little tingles intensifying throughout your body. need swirls through your stomach the more his mouth moves on your neck.

“then what’s this silent treatment for, huh?”

“what silent treatment?”

“oh, baby,” ross tuts and his stubble grazes over the sensitive skin of your neck. “you really wanna play dumb?”

every retort flies out of your brain when he grabs a hold of your hips and pulls you close to him. 

“you know what happens to dumb little bunnies, right?”

“y-yes.” it’s almost a whimper that quickly turns into a half moan when his hand rests on the back of your thighs, trailing up and up and up until it’s almost on the curve of your ass. 

you yelp when he pinches the skin. 

“you want to be fucked that bad, huh?”

and now you finally have him where you want. 

“so now you want to be loud,” ross mocks and dives back under your dress. 

this torture has lasted for a good ten minutes now. the insides of your thighs already feel raw and chafed. and he hasn’t even properly started yet. he’s still busy marking up the smooth skin of your legs. 

“always a good girl when you want something from me, aren’t you?”

you nod fervently, trying to stifle the mewl that’s about to leave your mouth. instead you clutch his head and try to push him where you want. ross is quicker. before you ever know it, his hand it wrapped around your wrists and he pulls back again, looking at you with yet another warning glare. 

his hair is a mess, his mouth wet from leaving all those kiss and bites on your skin but it’s his eyes that really get you—pupils blown out so wide that his eyes might as well be black. 

“please ross, please,” you whine, shamless and desperate and dying for his mouth to be back on you. 

“please what?”

“please make me cum.”

your pout has stopped affecting him a long time ago, even when you look at him with teary eyes and spread your legs wider. the underwear was discarded somewhere the minute you got inside the tour bus and now he has the perfect view of how wet you are. how ready for him. 

the inside of the bus feels uncomfortably hot or maybe it’s just your skin that’s sticky and sweaty and in desperate need of his touch. 

“no silent treatment anymore?”

“no,” you shake your head, “gonna be a good girl now. please please please.”

“yes, you are.” ross smiles and it feels more sinister than genuine. “i’ll stop what i’m doing if i hear another sound from you, baby.”

“w-what?”

“dumb little slut,” he mocks again, mouth so so close to your clit that it’s impossible to focus on anything else. “don’t want people to walk in on us, do you?”

“no. no!”

“then be quiet for me.”

easy for him to say. because his lips attach around your clit at that exact moment and you bite down on the back of your hand to stop the loud moan from escaping. 

“ungrateful, spoiled little brat,” ross tuts, presses his tongue flat against your opening. “look at you now.”

the heady mix of big and small licks makes your head spin, makes you want to cry out his name over and over again but for the sake of your sanity you stay quiet. for each small whimper that still manages to escape you, you feel a small sting on your thigh—a nip or a bite.

“my sweet, filthy girl,” he coos, ghosting his lips over each bruise, each bite and goes back to torturing your cunt. 

“ross, can i–oh! can i cum, please!”

“gonna cum for me, already?” he teases and pulls away entirely. “and what if i said no.”

the look you give him is one full of desperation—tears gathered on your lower lashline, bottom lip swollen and red from bitting hard to keep quiet.

“please!”

“no.”

and that’s that, just like that his head is back between your legs, tongue hot on your cunt as his nose pushed into your clit. between trying to stay quiet and trying not to cum you barely have any grip on reality. all you know is how it feels too much, too much pleasure, bordering on pain now. the urge to let go is too strong. 

“let me ask you again, baby,” his voice comes through the haze in your mind. barely even audible. “are you done with the silent treatment?”

“y-yes, m’sorry!” you whine, “won’t do it again. wont—”

“look at you…” his condescending tone somehow turns you on even more. the humiliation somehow adds to the pleasure. “ready to be my good girl again?”

“yes, yes!” the buzzing in your ears is so loud now, his voice barely even comes through. all you know is the feeling of his tongue inside you and the stinging of your thighs. the sticky sweat on your skin. 

your legs shake from the strain of denying yourself an orgasm, your head swims with too much of everything and nothing all at once. 

“go on then,” he speaks. finally. “you can let go now.”

all you manage is a long whine and every single restraint drops. you think you grip his head between your thighs, practically convulsing from the force of the orgasm that hits you, trembling from the way his tongue laps everything up. it’s beyond you how he manages to hold you upright. 

you think you scream out his name, practically alerting everyone in a five kilometre radius. you think you pull on his hair and hear him hiss. but ross lets you. 

minutes later when he finally stands, his beard and mouth glistens with slick. 

“there’s my good girl,” he coos and holds you in his arms. 

“look at me,” he coaxes a bit until you manage to open your eyes and look at him properly. despite how fucked he looks, there’s a sweet smile on his face. and his eyes soften when you meet his gaze. “sorry i ignored you before, love. don’t be mad at me.”

“m’not mad at you.” you mumble and every single negative emotion from before melts away within seconds. 

“good.” his smile widens, just a touch of mischievous once again. “now that you’ve learned your lesson… let me make it up to you.” 

and just like that, he’s back on his knees, diving between your legs once again. 

reblogs and comments are always appreciated <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows

add yourself to the taglist

[mmmichyyy]

🌸 gallavich fic rec list 🌸

welcome to my 2023 fic rec list! i went through my ao3 bookmarks and my tumblr tags from this year so here's some (not all, or else this post would go on forever) of my fave (new & older) one-shots, completed multi-chaps, wips & ficlets <3

make sure to check out my 2021 list & my 2022 list ! since i'm not going to include fics i've mentioned before in this year's list :)

& don't forget to check out @gallavichfanficlibrary @gallavich-fic-club @gallavichthings @thegallavault for more recs plus @galladrabbles & @gallavichmeta too ✨ let's go!

one-shots:

doesn't matter where we go by @heymacy (The boys take a road trip.)

to think that we could stay the same by teatrolley (post-breakup au, but Mickey gets out of prison, Caleb doesn't exist, and we get really into their past and Ian’s (struggling) head)

of going home by @lalazeewrites (Valiant has taken the greatest fall from grace the superhero world has witnessed in years. The Shrike is an unregistered vigilante who doesn't even ping the radar of Chicago's crime fighting scene. Ian is forcibly put on leave from his job and returns to the Gallagher house, a failure all over again. Not only does he not know what Mickey does when the world goes dark, he doesn't know that Mickey is still living southside at all. Not since the events of eight years ago.)

quiet by @babygirlmickey (In the quiet of a perceived absence of scrutiny, Mickey can be incontrovertibly tender. Or: 5 times Mickey lets his guard down, as observed by various third parties.)

all i need in this life of sin (is me and my husband) by literatii (As embarrassing as it might be, Ian is not only his husband but also his best friend, and Mickey is pretty damn okay with that. Why the fuck would he find other people to do the exact same shit with that he already does with Ian, minus the fucking, when he can just do that shit with Ian plus the fucking? It makes no sense. Or: Ian wants the two of them to have more friends. Mickey doesn’t.)

thirteen hours by @crossmydna (Ian has known for thirteen hours that he’s not crossing the border with Mickey, so he makes the most of the time he has left with him.)

queen of decatur by jaxington (“How’d you know that?” Ian asks, smelling chum in the water, the observant little fuck. “Not like your brothers are getting sent to lady prison all that often.” Mickey thumbs at his lip, trying to find a way out of this conversation. It probably wouldn’t be too hard to distract Ian just by taking of his pants, but he is trying this new thing where he actually tells Ian what’s going on in his head. “No.” He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s my mom.”)

like strings of fire by @gardenerian (mickey finds a safe and colorful way for ian to indulge himself when hypersexuality rears its ugly head.)

the needle and the burning body by squash (jesuisgourde) (Mickey had two burning torches for hands but he knew what to do with them. Ian's head was on fire and all he knew was how to run and keep running. How to find a cliff and jump off. How to make Mickey chase after him, again and again. And in a cold cell in prison, Mickey catches him.)

some fucked up romcom by godisthedice (Two years after they locked him up, Mickey told himself that he was done with Ian fucking Gallagher for good. Two years as a free man and he's marrying him for all the wrong reasons.)

when the sun goes down by @sam-loves-seb (super cute and fluffy lifeguard au!)

lava java by @stocious (He's being really unprofessional. Mickey might not even be gay. He might be hitting on a straight man through takeout cups.)

here's to hoping i'm not what kills you by @crestfallercanyon (After a confrontation gone bad, Mickey and the Gallaghers get Ian to the hospital. And look, Mickey always knew that if the Gallaghers had a will they'd find a way, but being roped into their schemes himself wasn't something he'd planned on signing on for. All the Gallaghers need to know is Mickey's helping out because he's not pure fucking evil. They don't need to know Mickey was scared shitless when Ian got knocked unconscious, Jesus, he can barely admit that to himself. Once Mickey knows Ian's not dead and not dying, he's out of there. Except he can't bring himself to leave.)

to the thawing wind by @gardenerian (Living and working in the icy chill of an endless winter, Ian and his family are assigned to work the farms to bolster food supply. They live quietly enough, following the rules, until Mickey and Mandy Milkovich (with all their secrets) are moved in across the road.)

i'll come meet you where you are by @crestfallercanyon (Mickey comes back from prison with a ring of vicious bruises around his neck and an edge to him Ian doesn't recognize. But he came back. He came back, and now it's time for Ian to meet him halfway.

closing in walls and ticking clocks by c_cups_bitch_u_wish (So, this is happening. Mickey is sitting in the corner of the bedroom on the comfiest fucking chair he’s ever sat in, and his adult self and adult Ian are about to fuck. And he’s going to watch. What's most odd is that this doesn't even feel like the weirdest thing to happen to him today.)

a spark of fire by @lingy910y (“You wanted us to finally have some time alone. You wanted to keep me safe, but you didn’t really care as long as we were together. You didn’t want it to end.” Mickey swallows a lump in his throat. “I…I don’t fuckin’ know.” “But can I, uh, ask you something else?” Ian rubs his thumbs together. “You like me, Mick. You fucking like me.”)

flip fuck? by @gallawitchxx (Mickey’s always thought that Valentine’s Day was fucking gay. But then some dramatic, ginger fuckhead had to move into the room next to his, and steal his hole, his heart, and the attention of his tumblr mutuals. Mickey decides to keep it lowkey when he asks Ian to spend the evening together: You wanna hang out on Tuesday? Ian’s response is quick and gives absolutely nothing away: Sure thing! That big-dicked idiot better remember it’s fucking Valentine’s Day.)

completed:

prelude motel by @whatthebodygraspsnot (When Mickey’s secret spot is infiltrated by an intriguing stranger, all the warning signs are there. Despite the voice in the back of his head telling him to disengage, he can’t help but bite off more than he can chew, running straight back to the spot and the stranger when a job leaves him injured. Enter: the Prelude Motel - where, for the next three days, Mickey finds himself hiding from more than just his pursuers.)

garden song (series) by @gardenerian (two gorgeous fics about ian's bipolar, about hope, healing, and tomatoes)

better by anomalously (It's been ten years since Ian's seen Mickey.)

in your love by @sgtmickeyslaughter (Mickey had been out of prison for 2 years and Ian never would have known until they ran into one another on a random night in May. Ian fights for the love they shared while Mickey fights for the life he built, as they both struggle with shame and guilt from their shared past it becomes clear that they cannot help but be drawn to what is bright and beautiful between them.)

whumptober 2023 (series) by @sam-loves-seb (21 beautiful fics of angst & hurt/comfort)

out of nowhere by @suzy-queued (Ian should have never offered to hide his father's stash of gold. Now he's stuck living on a deserted piece of land in the woods, alone, losing his sanity. Mickey wants nothing more than to disappear — from prison, from his family, from the entire world. If only he knew where to get his hands on a cool million. The Gallagher gold. Mickey wants it. Ian will do anything to protect it. Who will cave first?)

all these things i have left to say to you by @crestfallercanyon (After all this time that Ian's been missing, he leaves a tape recorder on Mickey's pillow. And on it? An hour of pure, unfiltered, Ian audio that is all, apparently, dedicated to him.)

wips:

keys to my heart by @milkovichrules (Ian finds his stable college life getting difficult when a new neighbour moves into the dorms.)

intro to quantum dating by @spoonfulstar (another college au) (one of my fave fics of all time!!)

the ink is a witness to this by @palepinkgoat (six chapters about the stories tattoos can hold and hide.)

order up by @heymacy (Ian and Mickey work together at a Chicago diner. They like to push each other's buttons - all their buttons. How long until the dam finally breaks?)

second chapters by @squidyyy23 (When Mickey’s PO assigns him a job at the local library, he’s pleasantly surprised—not that he’d ever admit it. Practically lived in the prison library, and what better way to start his new life than with a career he might actually enjoy. And when he meets the charming, clever, utterly fuckable, redheaded children’s librarian, well, shit just keeps getting better and better. Mickey’s definitely not interested in anything serious right now, but what’s the harm in a little fun?)

electric blue by @goodkwuestion (Paramedic Ian Gallagher knows true love exists. He's not going to settle until he finds it either, no matter how much his friends and family roll their eyes at him. Mickey Milkovich, on the other hand, isn't sure about all that stuff. He's an engineer with a long to-do list, and chasing rainbows isn't on it. He'll never say no to a good time and a pretty face though. When they meet, it will feel like kismet, something inevitable that neither of them can shake. Honestly though, who would want to? Falling in love can be the easiest thing in the world, especially when the whole universe is rooting for you... That's if the whole universe is rooting for you.)

ficlets:

all of @heymrspatel's drabbles, especially this one of ian being self-conscious about his body

docks scene & birthday suit gardening ficlets by @metalheadmickey

all of @lupeloto's sweet & domestic ficlets

@sam-loves-seb's meta about ian being the moon and mickey being the sun

ian's birthday ficlet & 31 ways we never meet (a.u.gust 2023 ficlets) by @callivich

airport confessions by @dynamic-power

gallavich drabbles by @whatthebodygraspsnot

all of @howlinchickhowl's a.u.gust 2023 ficlets!

(if you made it this far, i also write fics occasionally too so here's a self-promo lol)

[jinwoosungs]

{ 117 }

shut up and dance with me.

tsukishima kei x fem.reader x oikawa tooru

college au

banner credit to @luneariaa ( and @madeimoisellesoleil for helping! )

dedicated to @svrakas for showing me the specific tiktok by @/5yaff that inspired this fic ♡

tsukishima kei was not a person who enjoyed going out to clubs-

yet the same couldn't be said about you, his girlfriend of 3 years.

he honestly felt so tired after coming home from a long day of classes. all he wanted to do was cuddle up next to you on your couch, put on some cheesy rom-com he knew would make you laugh and smile while indulging on your favorite takeout order.

yet the moment he entered your shared apartment and was greeted by your saccharine smile and melodious laughter, kei knew he was screwed.

because this- this was a telltale sign that you wanted something from him.

"alright spill, just what the hell do you want?"

you sputter a bit, appearing flustered while stomping your feet a bit (okay, he'll admit it, you were too fucking cute for your own good.)

"there's no need to be so rude, kei! i-i just thought, well... aren't you feeling a bit of cabin fever here? we haven't left our apartment in months."

kei scoffs while pushing up his glasses. "we've left the apartment plenty of times. or have you forgotten that we need groceries every month?"

"that's what i'm saying kei, i don't wanna leave our home just to do mundane things! i wanna go out to bars, i want to dance and just have a great time with my boyfriend!" as kei watches you go on and on about your supposed cabin fever, he notices how you kept pacing back and forth, sending him cute little pouty glances his way, your expression reminding him of a puppy desperate for attention.

"please can we go out and do something fun, kei, pleeeeaaase?"

he could feel the impending headache that was close to settling near his temple, yet something about disappointing you left a bad taste in his mouth.

with a sigh, he clenches his eyes shut while massaging the bridge of his nose. "alright fine, we can go out, but only for a few hours! when 11pm hits, we're out of there, got it?"

an excited squeal was heard coming from your parted lips, and kei relishes in the way you jump up against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to place a kiss against his lips before hurriedly bouncing away from him.

"i'll be out in 30 minutes, babe!"

he listens as you slam the door shut, running a hand through his blond hair while his golden irises narrow in annoyance, knowing he had to take some tylenol before heading out, just as a precaution to prevent any migraines from rearing its ugly head.

{ ... }

to say kei felt pissed the moment he stepped into the club would be a complete understatement.

he allows the heavy fumes to surround you and him, buying you one of your favorite drinks as he stands off to the side. his glare was obvious, and he kept you by his side throughout it all.

this was the worst idea ever, since kei did not feel like dancing. he refuses to remove himself from his spot on the wall, taking sips of his strawberry daiquiri that was way too sweet. from his periphery, he sees your jittery movements and asks what was wrong.

"uhm, well, this is my favorite song that's playing, and i'd really love it if you could dance with me, kei."

by now, the tylenol clearly was not working, for he could feel the pinpricks of a migraine beginning to break through, the dull pain coursing through him as he places the rest of the drink off to the side. your name comes out of his lips in an exasperated sigh. "if you want to dance, just dance by yourself. i have a headache and don't feel like doing anything."

kei refuses to allow your hurt expression to sway him, ignoring the painful lump in his throat at the sensation. he hated being the cause of your pain so much, even though he knows he can be a complete asshole at times.

he was about to say something, ready to change his mind and dance with you after all when the sight of someone with cinnamon brown hair and a wide grin stops him in his tracks.

"what's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone?" like a bucket filled with ice was just thrown at him, kei watches as your attention was stolen by that perfect stranger.

"oh, i-it's nothing. it's just, my favorite song is playing..."

"what?! then why are you waiting here?! let's go dance!"

not even looking back at him, kei watches as another man takes you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor, feeling the sharpest pain he had ever felt while watching you smiling and dancing with someone that wasn't him.

{ ... }

you decided to ignore kei the moment this handsome stranger whisks you away from him, giggling while having a great time dancing to your favorite song.

the man's rich laughter fills your ears, and you found your heart unexpectedly skipping its beats at the sound of it. "so... was that pissant your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes while turning around to face him, still dancing with him while talking to him through the music, "yeah, he's an asshole, but... he's my asshole."

now that you could see him up close, you realized that this guy was utterly gorgeous. with gentle brown locks of hair cascading over his forehead and coffee brown eyes, you felt as though you could drown in his gaze. his full lips were upturned in a gentle smile when he suddenly leans in to whisper to you.

"don't look now, but i think your man is getting jealous."

"hmph, serves him right for not dancing with me."

you could feel the stranger's smile against the shell of your ear, "well, maybe this will get him to react like the way you want him to."

the fast-paced song suddenly turns into something slower and more intimate, making you gasp when your dance partner takes you in his arms while looking behind him. you couldn't tell what he was doing, but from the way he held up his hand while lifting up a finger aimed directly at your boyfriend, you could feel the heat rising up against your cheeks.

"you- why did you do that for?!"

the handsome stranger lets out another laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "i can tell how much you love him, but just between you and me, if you ever want a real man in your life, come find me. my name's oikawa tooru..."

before you could even deny the need to ever find him, tsukishima was immediately standing in front of you, shoving oikawa away with his chest puffing out in response. "i think that's enough of you grinding on some other man's woman. know your place, asshole."

his voice was filled with venom as oikawa takes a step backwards, hands held up in feign defeat as amusement was seen shining in his chocolate brown gaze. "hey hey, no need to get so upset, i was just helping her have a good time, that's all."

"we're leaving."

unable to say anything else, you look back at oikawa and give him an apologetic expression, only to be met with his wide smile as he mouths something at you.

take care and be happy.

{ ... }

"yo, jackass, your blind date just saw that stunt that you pulled and left the bar."

oikawa was forced to look away from the retreating couple, meeting his best friend's angry gaze with a sheepish expression on his face. "ah, damn iwa, did izumi leave after all?"

"that's what i just told you." iwaizumi's scowl was enough to make oikawa laugh as he walks away from the dance floor and back to his table. "was this why you invited me? so i could keep the girls you reject company while you fuck around?"

"ah come on, don't be that harsh iwa-chan! because when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a bastard."

"that's because you are a bastard." iwaizumi lets out a huff while downing the rest of his drink. "that tall blond looked like he was ready to kick your ass."

"heh, i highly doubt that." oikawa takes his glass and takes a swig out of it. "i was just playing cupid, you know? his girl was way too cute for a tightass like him, so i just did something to make him take action."

oikawa has to bite back his laughter, making a tremendous effort to keep it from bubbling out of him. "you? playing cupid? don't make me sick, assikawa."

"alright alright, i'll shut up." he sighs while leaning back on his seat, thinking back to that super cute girl with that beanpole boyfriend. "she was really cute though, so i'm hopeful that she'll take me up on my offer..."

{ ... }

"kei, s-stop, you're going too fast- k-kei, you're hurting me!"

with a gasp, kei finally stops walking, looking behind him to see you holding back your tears. he looks down and finally realizes that he has been holding your hand in a vicegrip while dragging you along, further fueling his guilt.

letting you go, he turns away from you while letting out a string of curses.

"i know you want to do it, so just fucking do it." kei was glaring at you, and he knew that he was just jealous and upset, but he couldn't stop himself.

"d-do what, kei?"

he takes your hand and leads you towards an alleyway, somewhere private and away from any prying eyes. "i know you want to break up with me and go back into that bastard's arms, that's what you want, right? a fun and energetic guy that shares all of your interests and will dance with you on a whim?"

"if that's what you want, then go, go and just-" before kei could continue with his rant, he was suddenly stopped by you. he sees the way you stand on the tip of your toes, placing your hand against his jawline before kissing him. you perfectly place your lips against his in a gentle kiss, and he, being too enamored with how sweet you tasted, basks in it.

the moment your lips met with his, he forgot all about the anger and annoyance he felt. the jealousy was whisked away, forgotten like a puff of smoke escaping into the cold night air. not wanting to let you go, kei wraps his arms around you, allowing his fingertips to play with the soft strands of your hair.

he could feel his heart pounding from out of his chest when you pull away from the kiss first. your eyes were filled with adoration and kindness, and he felt like such a bastard all over again upon realizing that you still loved him, even now.

with a grunt of your name, kei wraps his arms around you, burying his face within your hair while murmuring an apology.

"'m sorry."

"i'm sorry, too." was your reply. you silently beckon him to face you, framing his handsome face with your two hands.

"i know you were probably tired from your classes and wanted to just stay in. i'm sorry for making you go out when you probably felt tired. how about we order some ramen and we can stop by that bakery and get you the strawberry shortcake that you love so much?"

kei was absolutely astounded by how sweet you were, making him give you a tiny frown, "you're not mad at me?"

"of course not, silly."

"you don't want to leave me?"

"nope!"

"even when i'm a bastard?"

"you're my bastard."

"and you still love me?"

"i'll always love you!" you answer him with the widest and most beautiful smile that kei felt his heart ache and turn soft in response.

he remains silent, simply embracing you once more while pressing a kiss against your hair.

"next time we go out, i promise i'll shut up and dance with you when you ask."

and truly, you wouldn't want him any other way ♡

a.n. - it's been so long since i've written anything for my haikyuu!! boys; this is currently unedited, but i hope you readers enjoy this story! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[sidekick-hero]

wear me like a locket around your throat

(steddie | explicit | 4.5k | @kinktober2023 prompt collar | AO3 | written by @yournowheregirl and @sidekick-hero)

Steve has always been possessive in his relationships.

Not just in his romantic ones either, although that was where the possessiveness reared its ugly head the most. But even with his friends, Steve had always wanted to be their best friend. Their only friend, really. Before Nancy, Carol had been the only real test of his and Tommy's friendship. Tommy had been his best friend, and sharing him with Carol was not something Steve wanted to do.

So he'd made her his, too, the three of them inseparable. Until everything changed.

With his girlfriends, the possessiveness was even worse. He wasn't proud of it, far from it. So he tried to curb it, he really did. All Steve allowed himself were these little reminders, little things here and there that showed the world that this one person was completely and utterly his. It's why he gave Kelly his varsity jacket sophomore year, and it's why he bragged all night when Julie wore one of his button-downs at a pool party. It's the same reason he gave Nancy his class ring, because he was so proud to call her his at the time.

That's all he really let himself have, just these little things, mostly insignificant to anyone but himself. Steve had it totally under control.

Until Eddie.

Maybe it’s because he almost lost him before he even got the chance to call Eddie his. Maybe it’s because he already lost too much, so he clung to the things, the people, he still had even tighter.

Or maybe it’s just because it’s Eddie.

It doesn't really matter why, the fact remains that Eddie is making Steve a little bit feral, and the animal part of his brain demanded that he do something about it.

And that's why he bought Eddie a fucking collar, of all things.

He hadn't set out to buy one. He had just tagged along when Eddie had invited the kids on a trip to Indy because this supposedly amazing D&D store had just opened and they had to check it out. But as Eddie and the kids spent hours and hours in that store, Steve had gotten bored and had wandered off to kill some time until the nerd troop had had their fill for the day. As he walked along the sidewalk, half window-shopping, half people-watching, he came across a sex shop and curiosity got the better of him.

A faint blush had crept across Steve's face as he entered and saw all the whips, harnesses and toys the store sold. He and Eddie had only recently dipped their toes into the... less vanilla sex stuff, so while they had done a lot of extensive research and he definitely recognized some of the items, Steve still felt a little overwhelmed by the amount of options.

As he walked along the aisles, he looked at some of the toys, but finally decided that this was something he wanted to buy with Eddie. The thought of being able to watch Eddie pick out something for them to use was weirdly arousing, and so he made up his mind that he would leave the store empty-handed that day.

That is, until his eyes landed on the collar.

It was nothing special, really. Just a wide band of soft-looking black leather with a silver metal hoop on the front. But it was enough to make Steve's heart skip a beat, because now all he could think about was Eddie in that collar. Eddie in that collar and nothing else. Eddie in that collar as a true sign of devotion, of belonging, of belonging to Steve.

A mantra of mine, mine, mine echoed through his mind as he grabbed the collar and bought it without thinking twice. It was as if he had blacked out, someone else taking control of his body at that moment. Like a horny, possessive mind flayer. Steve vaguely remembers the saleswoman winking at him, telling him to have fun, and Steve assuring her that he would.

It was as if he saw himself walking out of the store, a discreet plastic bag in his hand, which he hurriedly tossed into the trunk of his car as he saw Eddie and the kids coming out of the store.

He made up some story about a new belt, and as they drove back to Hawkins, he tried to push all thoughts of his latest acquisition out of his mind.

But now, a few days later, the collar feels heavy in the plastic bag as Steve takes two steps at a time up the stairs to the trailer’s porch. His heart is in his throat as he knocks on the door. He hasn't felt this nervous since he picked up Eddie for their first date.

What if Eddie doesn't like the idea? What if this is somehow too far for him? Or worse, what if he pretends to like it too, just for Steve's sake, but secretly finds it weird or unsettling?

Wait, no. Eddie wouldn't do that. He always stresses the importance of open communication and telling each other what they like and don't like, what they need and want from each other. Eddie would tell him if he didn't like it and they could move on.

So this is going to be fine.

Steve really hopes it will be fine.

For a second he considers running back to his car, throwing the collar back in the trunk and just forgetting about the whole thing. But he doesn't get the chance, because just then Eddie opens the door.

The sight takes his breath away. It always does. Even in a simple black t-shirt and jeans, his hair a wild mess, Eddie still manages to look gorgeous and that voice in his head pipes up again.

Mine, mine, mine.

"Hey, sweetheart." Eddie greets him with the same smile he always has. His Steve smile, as Robin likes to call it, with his brown eyes all warm and sparkling and his mouth spread in a wide grin that puts his dimples on full display.

“Hi.” Steve replies with his own private smile as he walks in and presses a quick kiss on Eddie’s cheek.

“Whatcha got there? A present? For me?" Eddie's eyes immediately zero in on the plastic bag in Steve's hand. Steve lets out a breathy laugh, because he should have known that Eddie would notice the bag right away. He's like a dragon from one of his fantasy novels, always on the hunt for more treasures to hoard, and lucky for him, Steve brings him plenty of treasures.

"Uh, yeah. Sort of."

"Can I open it?" Eddie asks, mischief and anticipation written all over his face. He's already making grabby hands in the direction of the bag, so Steve decides to get it over with quickly, knowing full well that Eddie would be insufferable if he didn't get his present immediately.

He swallows thickly and wipes his suddenly sweaty hands on his jeans as Eddie takes the bag and reaches inside to grab the only item in it. God, Steve really hopes he didn’t make the wrong decision and even more so, he hopes that Eddie likes it as much as he does. He’s not sure what he’ll do if Eddie hates it. Spontaneously combust, maybe.

God, Eddie's dramatics are rubbing off on him.

The trailer is dead quiet as Eddie stares at the leather collar in his hands, the only sound being the crinkle of the plastic bag as it falls to the floor. Eddie's unusual silence doesn't do much for Steve's nerves, and he feels his stomach twist into knots the longer Eddie remains silent. He has to say something, anything.

"It's okay if you don't like it." Steve blurts out. "I mean, I don't know if I can return it, the lady at the store didn't say. Or maybe I can sell it, I dunno, but just know that it's totally fine if you don't like it. I just thought..."

"When did you buy it?" Eddie interrupts his ramblings, and really, God bless him. At least this is a simple question, not like 'Why do you want me to wear a collar?' because honestly, Steve isn't sure he's ready to answer that.

"Last week. When we were in Indy."

"You sneaky bastard, I knew you hadn't bought a new belt!" Eddie grins. "I can't believe you had that with you when the kids were there. Can you imagine Henderson finding that?"

"Oh my God, can you please not mention him right now?" Steve groans. Judging by the fact that Eddie hasn't said anything negative about the collar, Steve's confidence is slowly returning. Still, he needs to know if Eddie really likes it, that he really wants this, too. "So, uh, do you like it?"

"Yeah." Eddie nods, his eyes again fixed on the collar in his hands. "Yeah, it's... I like it. Thank you." The last part is said with Eddie's eyes boring into his, and the intensity behind them makes Steve's heart beat faster in his chest.

"Good. Glad you like it." He tells Eddie, his own voice full of... something.

Something heavy.

There's a long silence in which they both stare at each other, unsure of what to say. Or maybe they know exactly what to say next, what to do next, they're just not sure who's going to be the one to actually bring it up.

Eddie is the first to break the silence, he always is.

"You want me to put it on for you?"

Steve feels his dick twitch at the question, the for you ringing in his ears at the same time the mine, mine, mine mantra comes back with a vengeance.

"Please."

Steve doesn't even recognize his own voice at that one single word, but Eddie doesn't comment on the naked need in it. He just nods thoughtfully, and Steve somehow expects Eddie to just fasten the collar around his neck himself.

But he doesn't.

Instead, he holds the collar out to Steve, and when Steve takes it from him with a questioning look, Eddie smiles his Steve smile and holds his hair up, exposing his neck in a clear invitation. It's such a small gesture, but it's enough to make Steve's mind spin out of control.

Steve has helped Eddie with accessories before. He's untangled dozens of necklaces, untied his leather bracelets countless times, and he's always the one to remove Eddie's rings before they go to sleep. In theory, putting on a collar shouldn't be much different, but they both know it's more than just an accessory.

It's a symbol of trust, of devotion, and it makes Steve feel like his skin is too tight for his body.

Steve feels like he's watching himself from outside his body as he undoes the clasp and places the collar around Eddie's neck.

Eddie's skin is almost hot to the touch under Steve's cold hands, and he can feel Eddie flinching slightly at the initial shock before giving himself completely to Steve's touch. Steve doesn't believe Eddie realizes this, yet Steve's heartbeat swells with the quiet trust and submission.

Steve makes a silent vow to never fail Eddie's faith in him.

Before fastening the collar for good, Steve tests the fit by sliding his finger between the leather and Eddie's neck. When he finds the perfect fit, he buckles the collar and presses a kiss to the skin between the sharp edge of his jaw and the soft leather.

"Alright? Not too tight?" Steve asks, his breathing already heavy.

"No. No, it's perfect." Eddie croaks.

Steve takes a slow step back to admire the sight of Eddie wearing the collar. His collar, the one Steve gave him. Steve's breath stutters at the sight of it. It's really not that different from the accessories he usually wears, it fits right in with the chains and heavy rings, but it's still different.

Because while his accessories are a part of Eddie, the collar is a part of Steve. There is a meaning behind it, a purpose. It's not about aesthetics, though the black leather looks incredibly alluring against Eddie's pale skin. It's a visual reminder of their bond, their hearts worn not on their sleeves but on Eddie's neck. It says that Eddie is his, but it's also a tangible sign of Steve's devotion.

He only ever wants Eddie to wear his collar, and his mind is already buzzing with ideas for a custom-made one.

“Fuck.”

"Yeah? You like it?" Eddie ducks his head as a faint blush spreads across his cheeks. The juxtaposition of Eddie's sweet shyness and the things Steve wants to do to him makes his stomach do summersaults.

"Yeah. I really, really do. Now c'mere because I need to kiss you right the fuck now." Steve mutters, his hand coming up to cupping Eddie's cheek and pulling him in to crash their lips together.

From the moment their lips touch, Steve's entire body is on fire. Any other day he would enjoy teasing this kind of kiss out of Eddie, driving him wild with barely there kisses and pulling back at perfectly timed moments.

But not today. Today it's heated from the start, fueled by nothing more than that simple leather band around Eddie's throat.

Steve feels like the sight of Eddie wearing the collar has unleashed the insatiable beast in his chest. He's never been so demanding when kissing anyone before, but it's like a feedback loop between him and Eddie. The more hunger Steve feeds into Eddie's mouth with his tongue, the more Eddie demands. He coaxes Steve to push harder, to plunge his tongue deeper, ready to let Steve crawl into him through his throat.

With his hands on Eddie's hips, Steve begins to walk them back until Eddie hits the kitchen counter. The moment he does so, Eddie leans back and spreads his legs so easily for him, just wide enough for Steve to slide his leg between them. Their simultaneous moans fill the room as their clothed dicks brush against each other and Steve is pretty sure he's never been so hard in his life. And they're not even naked, not even doing anything but kissing.

Eddie Munson is going to be the death of him. But what a way to go.

Not slowing down as he tries to eat him alive, Steve begins to roll his hips against Eddie, his upward strokes forceful, just this side of too much. The delicious drag of his heavy cock against Eddie is enough to force Eddie to pull away from Steve's mouth, a series of needy whimpers rolling off his tongue.

"Shit, Steve. Fuck, you feel so good." Eddie gasps, his chest heaving and his eyes heavy-lidded.

But Steve isn't done kissing him, and without thinking twice, he grabs the metal loop of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie toward him. Their lips are only inches apart when they both realize what has just happened. Steve's cheeks turn red with shame and he's about to stammer an apology when he meets Eddie's eyes. He expects to find a sense of shock in those dark brown eyes, but instead the only thing Steve finds there is a heavy dose of lust.

Steve swallows his apology and instead asks, "Okay?"

"So fucking okay." Eddie smiles, his voice dazed.

Steve smiles back at him and uses the collar to pull him the last few inches so their lips can finally meet again. Eddie whimpers so beautifully against his mouth and it's a sound Steve wants to hear over and over again.

Licking over Eddie's lower lip, Steve lets the hand that's not still hooked into the metal ring of Eddie's collar travel south to Eddie's chest. It finds a nipple through the fabric of Eddie's shirt, the material thin from wear, and he thumbs it.

It has the desired effect, allowing him to swallow more of the whimpers that fall from Eddie's mouth. Another hard thrust of Steve's hips against his cock makes Eddie throw his head back with a high-pitched moan, showing off his beautiful neck with its collar.

Steve thinks he's going to die if he doesn't get his hands and mouth on every inch of Eddie he can reach.

Fixing his mouth to the tantalizing patch of skin just below the collar where Eddie's neck meets his shoulder, Steve steps right in between Eddie's legs, spreading them even wider. Before Eddie can react to any of this, he stoops, grabs the back of Eddie's thighs and lifts. Eddie yelps, his legs and arms wrapping around Steve on pure instinct, and Steve hums against Eddie's neck. The weight of Eddie in his arms feels good, their groins pressed tightly together and his body heat seeping into Steve.

"Oh my God, how are you even real?" Eddie asks, but Steve thinks it's one of those hypothetical questions he likes to ask sometimes. So he ignores it, just scrapes his teeth across Eddie's skin to show him that he's very real and willing to leave reminders of that on Eddie's body.

With careful steps so as not to drop his precious cargo, Steve walks over to the couch and drops onto it. Eddie bounces into his lap, the movement causing him to slide forward so that his ass sits on Steve's hard-on. Unable (and unwilling) to stop himself, Steve humps up once, letting Eddie know how fucking hard and desperate he is for him.

"I need you to touch me. Please, Steve, touch me." Eddie begs so sweetly. The blush on his face reaches under the collar of his shirt and Steve needs to see how deep it goes. He quickly removes Eddie's shirt, relishing the miles of pale skin adorned with black ink and red desire. Their position brings him to eye level with Eddie's chest and he immediately fastens his mouth to Eddie's stiff nipple as if he's hungry for it.

And he is, a hunger deeper than anything he's ever felt before. A hunger that can never be fully satisfied.

Above him, Eddie whines, a pained sound, as if it hurts, as if it's too much, the way Steve licks and sucks and bites at the sensitive bud. But he also brings his hands up and buries them in Steve's hair, pressing his face against Eddie's chest as his hips roll against Steve.

"Off," Eddie demands, and for a second Steve is afraid he has misread Eddie, that he wants Steve off of him. But then he tugs on the back of Steve's shirt and whines another "Off", and Steve gets the hint.

Releasing Eddie's nipple, he moves to pull off his shirt, not helped at all by Eddie's greedy hands on his body. After tossing it somewhere behind the couch, he grabs the metal ring of Eddie's collar and pulls Eddie forward again to catch his lips in another desperate kiss.

His fingers remain hooked around the metal loop as their mouths slide against each other and his eager tongue licks the spit from Eddie's teeth. At the same time, Steve moves his other hand down from where it's pressed between Eddie's shoulder blades to the small of his back, encouraging him to ride his lap.

Eddie ruts against him, the roll of his hips picking up speed, their rhythm sloppier, and they both pant into each other's mouths at the delicious yet not enough friction of denim on denim.

They continue to make out, Eddie writhing on top of him while Steve devours his mouth. At some point, Steve slips his hand under Eddie's jeans and underwear, kneading and squeezing his ass to get him even more riled up. Steve has noticed how Eddie gets turned on whenever Steve plays with his ass, and today is no exception. As soon as his fingers start to tease his hole, Eddie comes apart over him.

The sounds Steve is pulling out of him have Steve almost on the verge of coming himself, and when he looks up at Eddie's face, he finds his eyes glazed over and his cheeks flaming. In between whimpering and moaning, Eddie continues to babble incoherently, pleading and begging Steve for anything, everything, as he continues to rub against Steve's lap. His movements become more and more erratic and Steve knows that this is a sure sign that Eddie is close, a hair's trigger away from spilling into his boxers.

And even though the thought makes more heat pool in his own groin, that's not what Steve wants right now. He wants to savor this moment, wants to burn it into his memory forever.

Wrapping his hand around Eddie's neck, just above the collar, he restrains Eddie from moving.

Eddie whines pitifully, no shame in his face at his own need. He's gone too far, Steve realizes, he's been floating for a while and Steve putting a stop to it must feel like punishment to him.

"Shhh, sweet thing," Steve coos in his most soothing voice. "Just lemme look at you. Just for a moment. Wanna remember you like this."

And Eddie tries, he really does. Tries to let Steve look at him, holds still as Steve noses up his sternum and to his jaw, biting the jut lovingly. But that's all he can take and Steve feels the strain in his legs from trying to keep his hips from chasing his release.

Steve decides to put him out of his misery because Eddie has been so good for him, so sweet and obedient.

"Aw baby, you need a little help?" he asks sweetly.

Eddie nods frantically, his mouth slack and his face and chest pink, his blush visible under his collar.

"Maybe next time I'll buy you a leash. You'd like that, huh?" Steve can't help but push a little, playing with their newfound dynamic. "D'you like being on my leash, parading around town and showing everyone who you belong to?"

"Yes, yes, yes, yes." Eddie slurs his words, his body limp like a rag doll as he writhes on top of Steve, desperately seeking more friction.

"Say it."

"Steve..."

"Say it." Steve's grip on the collar tightens.

"'m yours, Stevie. I'm yours, always yours." Eddie whimpers.

"Good boy."

It's as if that's all Eddie needed to hear to come with a broken sob, a litany of "thank you, thank you, thank you" falling from his mouth as he shakes apart in Steve's arms. His hips continue to stutter against Steve's lap as his orgasm rips through him and the pressure against Steve's own painfully hard cock is the sweetest torture.

When it's over, the last drop milked from him, Eddie collapses forward like a marionette whose strings have been cut. His face is pressed into Steve's neck and he continues to make snuffling noises against it, his lips and tongue wet against Steve's overheated skin.

It's so trusting, so vulnerable as Eddie lies in his arms, limp and completely out of it. The voice in his brain sings its mantra of mine, mine, mine louder than ever, eager to claim Eddie even more as its own.

Fueled by this desire, Steve lifts Eddie out of his lap and spreads him out on the couch before straddling his waist. The subtle pressure of Steve's ass against Eddie's spent and sensitive cock draws another whimper from Eddie as he stares up at Steve in starstruck wonder. It's an exquisite sight, Eddie's beautiful body offered to him in satiated surrender.

Steve unzips his pants and frees his hard and leaking cock, sighing with relief that it's no longer straining behind his jeans. He's so turned on by the sight of Eddie like this, all floating and spent and his, that he doesn't have to think twice as he grips his aching cock. He starts at the head, collecting the leaking pre-cum and spreading it over his length to ease the glide as he begins to jerk himself off with a grunt. Fuck, but it hurts so good.

"God, look at you. So pretty and all mine. My good boy." Steve moans, his hand speeding up. He's already close, feels like he's been since he closed the clasp of the collar around Eddie's neck.

"The sounds you made, Eddie, shit. Never sounded sweeter. Wish I could have filmed it, want to show everyone what a good boy you are for me, just for me. Wanna put you on a leash and show you off, show everyone who you belong to."

Eddie's mouth goes slack as Steve's dirty praise sinks in and he whimpers his name brokenly.

"What is it, baby, what do you need? I'll give you anything you want."

"Wanna," Eddie starts before a bitten whine cuts him off. "Wanna suck your cock, God, it's so big, I need it, stuff it down my throat, Steve, please."

Fuck, Steve wants that too. But there is still that voice in his head chanting mine, mine, mine and claim, claim, claim and he knows what he has to do to appease it.

Wanting to at least stuff Eddie's mouth with something, he slides three thick fingers between his lips and Eddie begins sucking eagerly.

"That's right, doll," Steve praises Eddie, his voice sweet even with the condensing words that follow. "You need your mouth stuffed so bad, don't you? Look so beautiful with your lips wrapped around my fingers."

He's jerking off furiously, turned on beyond belief. When Eddie's hips hump into him, it throws him off balance, sending him tumbling forward, his fingers sinking deeper into Eddie's mouth and Eddie gags on them.

It's the feel of Eddie's throat fluttering around his fingers that sends Steve over the edge, thick white streaks of cum splattering Eddie's face, neck and chest.

It's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

Steve has left the building, letting his animal brain take over as he pulls his fingers out of Eddie's mouth, covered in Eddie's saliva, and uses them to rub his cum into the leather of the collar.

"Mine," he whispers reverently before capturing Eddie's lips in a surprisingly soft kiss.

Eddie's too out of it to really kiss back, floating somewhere above them, so Steve decides to clean him up before the cooling cum becomes uncomfortable.

Pressing another soft kiss right between his eyebrows, he tells Eddie, "I'll just get a washcloth, be back before you know it.

And he is, taking no more than ninety seconds to return with a glass of water and a warm washcloth to clean Eddie's cheeks and chest. He removes Eddie's pants and carefully cleans his groin as well. When he's finished, he takes off his own pants and underwear, grabs the soft blanket hanging over the back of the couch, and joins Eddie on the couch.

He pulls Eddie on top of him and spreads the blanket over them. Wayne won't be home for a few hours, so Steve isn't worried. Above him, Eddie gets comfortable, nestling his face in the crook of Steve's neck and sighing contentedly. Steve begins to stroke Eddie's hair, sure that if he could, Eddie would be purring right now. With a smile on his face, Steve decides that buying the collar was the best idea he ever had.

He closes his eyes and presses a soft kiss to Eddie's forehead before letting sleep take over.

[mandiemegatron]

Okay but, Law angst based on "when I was your man" by Bruno mars

I can't handle the pain you enjoy putting me in😭😭😭😭😭😭

👀 you're not wrong though.

How about a taste of that? 😈

This is NOT part of an official part two for (you make me do) too much labour, but if you want to believe that it is, then go for it bc I am not sure if or when I'll get to writing it.

Enjoy, my lovely lil tangerines !!! I love you sm !!! 🤭💖💋

Written while listening to When I Was Your Man by Bruno Mars.

It was like being punched in the gut.

With a knife.

That was on fire.

He hadn't even been looking for you this time, having been entirely focused on actually refueling the ship and making sure every crew member came back with what they were supposed to.

Shaking fingers held the clipboard that marked down the wares that came onto the ship. He'd first heard that ugly, unruly laughter from a certain redheaded, knowing that Eustass Kid must have also been refueling at the same port.

He lazily looked around and spotted him, not fifty feet away. He was talking to his masked crew mate, Law vaguely remembers his name is Killer, ironically enough, and goes back to his clipboard.

Law idly wondered if Eustass was following him.

But how?

He had no way of knowing which way the Heart Pirates were going next, unless-

Law froze in his spot when he heard another familiar laugh, and he couldn't fight the way his body immediately went into an anxious state, his wide eyes watching in utter shock as you came out from beside Kid's massive form.

His eye twitched as Kid leaned down and pulled you into a kiss, resentment and fury clinging to his entire body at the audacity you and Kid held.

In that instance, everything fell into place for Law. Why he was suddenly always seeing Kid's ugly ship show its face everytime Law docked somewhere, why he felt like Kid was chasing him or following him -

It was you.

This whole time... it had been you.

"Boss! Did you see-"

"I saw."

Shachi and Penguin flinched at the venom dripping from Law's mouth, watching with worried expressions as their Captian burned holes into the back of your head.

For the first time in months, since you'd ran off from the Tang, you slowly turned and froze with wide eyes as you took in your ex-captain. You'd recognize that stupid, spotted hat anywhere.

Your gaze stuck with his, almost as if something was trying to pull you together. You could feel the anger, the sadness and the rage that fell off Law like a bitter waterfall, covering the entirety of your senses in a thick sludge.

It'd been the first time in months that you'd seen him.

You hated the way your heart ached to go to him.

"... Oi."

You broke your gaze from Law to stare back up at Kid, a set frown etched into his lipsticked mouth. There was uncertainty in his eyes as he nearly snarled out,

"... You're mine now. He can't have you back."

You flashed your lover a warm, loving grin and clung to him, holding his slightly larger face in your hands as you replied,

"I'm yours. I'm not going anywhere."

Kid's eyes softened slightly before he glared darkly at Law, the other captain suddenly standing a little taller at the challenge. They glared each other down until Kid looked away as you tugged on his opened shirt.

"Come on, let get out of here," you murmured, desperate to get away from this uncomfortable and fucked up situation.

You jumped slightly when Killer placed a warm, heavy hand on your shoulder, the other coming in front of you to give you a small bouquet of pretty weeds. A slight grin came over your face as you looked up at your masked lover and friend, the man giving you one in return that you couldn't see, but you knew was there.

He led you away by taking one of your hands into his, bringing the back of it up to his mask in a faux kiss as a sign of adoration, just as Eustass Kid turned back to Law, a wicked grin on his face as he mouthed something Law can't understand.

He points at Law, gives him the middle finger, then points at the sky before turning away with a loud cackle, following after his best friend and love.

Law then stiffens, knowing exactly what Kid meant.

"You... fucked... up."

Law turns away as Kid's loud voice echos over him, his heart gripped in a tight, metal hand as he hears Kid ask you,

"Apparently, they're throwin' a party here tonight... we gonna dance our asses off or what?!"

His heart breaks as he hears you reply happily,

"Ooh, you gunna take me dancing?! Thank you, baby!"

Law roughly slaps the clipboard into one of the crewmans stomachs, ignoring the over-exaggerated "Oof!" that Shachi gives. Law begins to turn, walking back towards the ship when Shachi suddenly calls out,

" ... How many times did she ask you to take her out?"

Law freezes in his spot, his eyes wide and dark as he stares down at his best friend and crewman.

"... what did you say...?"

"How many times... did she ask you to take her out? Or to bring her something that reminded you of her?"

Law's face contorts into one of raw fury, mouth snapping open to roar at Shachi's insolence when suddenly Ikkaku speaks up,

"All she wanted was you, Captain. And you made it clear that you didn't want her."

Law's head audibly snaps to the side, his dark gaze looming over Ikkaku as she continues,

"Just be happy for her. She's alive and clearly happier with them. Stop acting like the victim."

The anger and bitterness in Law grows as he snaps out,

"She's a traitor. She doesn't deserve to be happy with anyone!"

Ikkaku shouts back,

"Why?! Because she didn't want to keep having her heart broken by the man she loved?! Get OVER yourself!"

Law steps back slightly at her words, his chest heaving as pain and hurt take over the anger.

"I..."

Ikkaku cuts him off with a sharp, raised hand.

"You are not the victim here. Stop acting like your actions don't have consequences just because you're a pirate Captain."

Law falls silent, his face half covered by the wide rim of his hat. He hated that Ikkaku had a point, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"... make sure everyone gets back to the ship."

Shachi and Ikkaku give a tight salute, small frowns on both their faces as they watch their Captain walk back into the Tang.

They share a look with each other before going back to their duties, Shachi's shaded eyes watching you, Kid, and Killer until you were gone from his vision.

[horrorlesbians]

i really like your blog but sometimes i have the urge to send mean asks bc u need a reality check but its terrible....youre so beautiful and have lots of swag its sucks that all that shit in ur life told u that youre ugly but theyre wrong...tbh i think you need more friends who tell you youre hot maybe then you wouldnt constantly post about how ugly and unloveable you are bc thats such bullshit like cmon now. a sexy dyke will pick u up one day but the broken barbie vibe isnt as sexy as some peoplemake itout to be bro . please im begging you to find some confidance within yourself you WILL make crazy sexy fucked up films and you WILL be the object of obsession of someone super sexy but first u gotta stop crying about fake news (u beingugly) on tumblr and i do know mental illness and body imagw are serious things i struggle too so honestly i kinda hatemyself for sending you this its out of line and also the first time ive ever sent something like this (im a hatemail virgin) but also u did sign up to the 'weird personal rude asks' website?

anyway im very sorry for saying this but it was either this or i unfollow and like i said i really like ur blog cause ur cool (tldr hating urself is only sexy in moderation) (hope this doesnt hurt your feelings) (sorry again)

I am genuinely speechless

[melodramaschild]

Cigarettes out of the window- poly! marauders when you start overworking out to try and be prettier for them

Robie's funeral

𝐂𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎𝐖, 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏

Navigation || Age limit

Warnings: bulimia, body dysmorphia, slow burn, crying and bad mental health, negative self-talk, not happy ending, my writing, part 2 on its way

Let me know if I forgot anything

Words count: 2 299

Pairing: poly! Remus Lupin x James Potter x Sirius Black x fem!reader

Read me: If you see any mistakes, please let me know. English isn’t my first, not even second, language and reminding me of some mistakes would help a lot. Also, feel free to reblog.

A/N: please, don’t read this if you’re easily triggered about your eating disorder. Remember that this is not any motivation for you to start witch such a thing like this. I’m just writing the request. If you feel like you have problems with eating disorder, please reach out for help. || and I’m also sorry that I didn’t stick up with only reader who is overworking out.

My girl Y/n/n used to always smoke cigarettes when she couldn't sleep

You were sitting in the bath robe, hair hidden in a hair mask under a satin bonnet and tears slowly daring out. You needed to look pretty.

Covering yourself in another face mask, the liquid substance sticking on your skin and your fingers gently massaging it in.

That’s what you’ve been doing everyday for the last few weeks.

You stopped sneaking into your boyfriends’ room as you did every night, instead you were doing… whatever you want to call this. Let’s call it a bad habit of yours. A new bad habit.

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

(❁ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈) ༉‧ ♡*.✧

Instead you were falling asleep with loud thoughts and tears slowly staining your pillow. Your thoughts were cruel, mean, inexorable. Always telling you that their love is just a prank on you and if you really want to be lovable you need to be pretty, and that you weren’t pretty for love.

Late night heavy thoughts were replaced with James’ (and sometimes Sirius’) morning workout. Just typical cardio. Running on the Quidditch’s field as your lungs were always burning. That was the price of beauty.

“Are you alright, sweet cheek?” James asked between his own gasps as he saw you ‘I’m going to pass out any moment’ position. Hands on your knees, labored shallow breathing and tears burning in your eyes. “Y-yeah,” you breathed out, the breath burning your throat. “Just forgot how to breathe for a bit.” you tried to play it as a joke but James was still worried. “Alright, just catch me if you are too tired.” He leaned down to kiss your sweaty forehead and you couldn’t help but feel disgusting. And disgusted.

James kissed your sweaty forehead. Your ugly forehead where you didn’t practice your morning skin care routine. Your forehead that was now all scrunched up. Your fucking sweaty forehead that was dripping with sweat.

For you, it was derogatory now.

But for you in the past and for James, it was normal and a sign of love. James didn’t care how sweaty you were and how you looked. He loved you whole with his whole huge heart, no matter what. And for you in the past, it would mean the same.

“Do you fancy a shower with me?” James smirked at you towards the shower. It was something you used to do after his games. All four of you. Take a shower where you and Remus pampered James and Sirius. Massaging their scalps and planting small kisses all over each other.

It was something you used to do with James after his training. Taking a quick shower with him, which always turned into a water fight. No one was happy because of that mess afterwards.

And normally you would fancy a shower with James. But the person was no longer in you. You needed to be pretty to have a fancy shower. Anyway, you used trips to bathroom for a different reasons now too.

“No, thank you, Jamie.” you gave him your apology and before he could say something, you ran away to take your own shower.

To wash out the sweat and scrub your whole body to have the smoothest skin in the whole United Kingdom. To have smooth skin like those girls you read about it fan-fictions.

She'd disappear for an hour and a half and when she'd come back she'd brush her teeth

And that went day after day. Meeting James on the morning run and then Sirius on the evening run. Meeting Remus on the afternoon study because no one would date a stupid girl.

“Are you alright?” Remus asked you when he noticed that you’re not there in spirit. You didn’t answer, he reached out his hand, the back of it stroking the side of your shoulder.

“Mhm,” you hummed, only because you heard some noises. Remus sighed, sadness washing over him as he realised that no matter what was happening, he was slowly losing you. They, they were slowly losing you.

He leaned a bit closer to you, his warm fingers hooking under your chin, your eyes locking with his amber eyes. The golden hour played with his hair and eyes, making him look like a fallen angel. So pretty.

And so pretty, but not for you.

“Talk to me, pretty girl.” he said, softly. “Why don’t you talk to me?” His lips turned into one of his sweet smiles. “Talk to me, like you used to.” His fingers found their way to stroke your cold cheek. “So, are you alright?” he raised his eyebrows at you. In his face there was no taunt or mockery, just a lust for knowing what’s really bothering you. There was a worry written in his face.

You opened your mouth but all you could do was to choke on your words. Your lower lip started to wobble and you couldn’t fill your lungs with oxygen.

“N-no.” you squeaked before completely fondling yourself into Remus’ open arms.

No.

Just a simple one word, one sentence that was telling him a whole story. Remus pulled you closer to him, and closer, and closer until you were curled up in his lap. Your arms wrapping around his neck like you’re drowning and he was your saving buoy.

Painful and heart wrecking sobs were escaping your throat and your salty tears were drenching his jumper. But all he ever wanted was you to know that it’s okay. That you could ruin every jumper he owned with your tears if that would cure you.

His warm hands were traveling from your shoulder blades to your lower back, rubbing your loins as he knew that they would hurt you.

His warm and soft hands, on your tender shaking back.

“Shh,” he whispered oh so quietly. “Is going to be alright, darling.” He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting his own tears not to escape in front of you.

“It’s not, it’s not going to be okay.” you sobbed and clutched on his tall figure.

“No no, don’t say that, sweet girl,” he shook his head and a first tear slipped from his closed eyes, running down his cheek and burning on his fresh unhealed scar. “It is going to be okay, alright?” he placed a kiss on the top of your head. He didn’t give you a chance to argue with him before he pleaded: “Look at me,” his voice was desperate. Just like his hands prying your face from his neck.

Remus cupped your face, seeing tears streaming down your face and your lips being curled up in a painful twist. If the room was silent, you could hear Remus’ heart shattering into billion tiny pieces.

“We are going to solve this out, alright?” He looked at you through his light lashes. “You and me,” he continued. “You and me and Jamie and Sirius, okay? We’re not going to let you be alone for this.” Remus promised.

You couldn’t bring yourself to say anything to him, nor even nod, all you could do was to hide in his body again and cry into his jumper.

But I could still smell it on her raggedy teeth

Sirius was playing with Padfoot’s tennis ball, throwing it into the air, trying to reach the ceiling. His eyebrows were knitted together in an intended look.

“I think something’s wrong.” he murmured out of nowhere.

“Wacha mean by that?” Remus looked up from his book, The Shining, still smelling new. “Look at it, mate,” Sirius sat up on his bed, spreading his arms around. “Y/n/n is not here.”

Remus and James glared at him, their faces telling that they already noticed.

“I mean,” Sirius started. “She was there,” he looked at his other boyfriend. “and suddenly she’s not here. Only meeting up with me on my afternoon run and-”

“What did ya say?” James interrupted him and titled his head.

“What?”

“”Bout that run, say it again.”

Sirius blinked at him a few times, completely confused just like every time in position class. Marauders talked about everything. Remus, Sirius and James especially as they all had the love bond. They talked about Quidditch, they talked about studying, they talked about why James ate cheese again when he’s lactose intolerant, they talked about their breathtaking girlfriend. They talked about what to do for the big anniversary, where to take you and if you would fancy a trip to Edinburg… but for some reason they never talked about how you’re sticking up with them through the day.

“She is running with me on afternoon runs,” Sirius nervously chuckled. “What’s wrong with that?” he asked.

The thing about Sirius’ run was… Let’s say that Sirius found a healthy coping mechanism for him. But what was saving him was something that was killing you.

James stood there, blankly staring into the space.

“James, what’s happening?” Remus crawled at the end of the bed to his boyfriend. James didn’t hear him, the ringing was way too loud in his ears, like hundreds of mosquitoes attacking his brain, only experiencing this feeling when he got overwhelmed with the whole world.

Remus reached out for his hand and tucked on his fingers. “Darling boy,” he looked up at him. “What’s going on? Talk to me.” Remus pleaded.

“Y/n/n was on a run with me this morning.” James started. “And yesterday’s morning too.” he breathed in. “And the previous morning too, and that morning too,” he wanted to continue but his voice disappeared into the air as his brain started working with puzzles.

“She was with me yesterday’s afternoon too, and the previous too.” Sirius added, slowly catching in.

“That’s… too much,” James whispered. “And then… I didn’t see her at breakfast. Not for the last few weeks.” James started thinking out loud.

“Oh c’mon, mate, she said she is getting nauseous from breakfast.” Sirius waved in front of him, completely believing your explanation.

But Remus understood. Way more quickly then he would want to.

The way he saw you getting more and more exhausted everyday, the way you excused yourself for bathroom breaks after everything you ate, the way you kept sipping on your water without even reminding. Something was awfully wrong.

“Fuck,” Remus breathed out when he realised. “What?” Sirius and James glared at him.

“Did you notice any suspicious behavior in her?” He asked, quickly opening his bedside table and grabbing his notes and pen, scrambling something down.

“Mmm,” James thought. “Lot’s of drinking?” Sirius brought that up. “Like she is able to drink a whole liter on our afternoon run. Which is weird, she used to drink a whole liter throughout the day, not an hour.”

Remus wrote that piece down, doing his math. It would make sense, it was after lunch and running made you nauseous too anyway. The perfect opportunity.

“Anything other?” He asked.

“Well, for me, it’s not spending time with us. It’s been weeks since we had a sleepover. And sometimes, I see her on a map sneaking into Hogsmeade and always coming back with bags of something.” James added.

“Mhm,” Remus nodded. “That’s really… new and odd.”

“Remus what are you doing?” Sirius asked, trying to sneak glances behind his shoulder.

“Thinking, it’s a very helpful thing.” Remus snearled.

After a few minutes, Remus was done, pinching the bridge of his nose as he was the one wearing glasses.

“I… I’m only assuming, but,” Remus took a deep breath. “It’s obvious Y/n has a problem. On that list there can be issues with food consumption and weight loss. Maybe some shopaholic tendencies too.” He read you out like a book

“But what does she buy?” James asked.

“Maybe… I don’t know.” Remus shook his head.

“So, when are we going to talk to her?” Sirius mumbled, his legs bouncing as his thoughts swirled in his mind. Another fake scenario is coming up about you.

“What time is it?” James asked. “Around 16, do you have any idea where she is?” Remus looked at his boyfriends. “Probably at her place.” They looked at each other, communicating through eyes and suddenly it all clicked. They all got up, ruffling their bed sheets.

They all reached their stairs but Remus stopped, turning around and running back. “Rem! What are you doing? We are running out of time!” Sirius shouted. “Shut up!” Remus barked and ran to his drawer. Ruffling it all over until he found the thing he got back for. Your (his) comfort (not his comfort) sweater. Remus quickly changed it and tidied it up with his fingers. It was a forest sweater with light and red stripes, it was a bit itchy on his skin and people sometimes mocked him for it, but he swore to the Lord that it was a magnet on you. Every time he wore it, you were glued to him for the whole day, always nuzzling your cheek into his chest and always holding him so close.

“Really? You had to change right now?” Sirius chuckled. “You don’t get it.” Remus rolled his eyes.

They ran into your place, knocking on your door and deciding to come in when no one answered.

Maybe you were just taking a nap, listening to some music or forgot to close the door.

However and whatever, they expected everything, but none of them wanted to believe that they would see their girlfriend coming from her bathroom, wiping her mouth into her sleeve that was covered in… god knows stuff. With puffy lips and eyes stained red, looking like she committed the biggest crime ever.

“Loves,” you did hoarse, your throat still burning up.

“What-” Sirius started, shaking his head as everyone had their eyes glued on you, shocked and scared expressions on their faces.

“What have you done…?”