#but then why that diagonal bit

[pancakeke]

finally I can share a visual of my "haunted wall". I'm too afraid to use anything other than those picture frame hangers that secure with tiny nails on this thing :(

this is why I don't "just use a magnet" to find studs. there is some kinda shit going on in there and I doubt the guy who used to own this house was smart enough to know what a stud guard is.

btw when I pick the stud finder up it's because I hit a ridge where it appears a section of drywall has been cut away and then replaced. there's a similar ridge 18 inches below running parallel to it. so I know the previous owner was messing around here.

btw #2 if you know stuff and can explain what's going on here to me I'm begging you to respond. there are a couple other weird spots in this wall within about 3 feet of here too.

[knifegremliin]

my laptop is such a trooper btw (he has so many cracks on him)

[daisybell-on-a-carousel]

One of these days I think my jaw is gonna require medical intervention

[fingertipsmp3]

Achievements today:

Did some tasks for my favourite work project

Did a qual to hopefully open up more projects

Diagnosed (sort of) and fixed bugs in my sims 2 game

Ran outside in the rain for the first time since school (which I only used to do because I was forced to)

Confused my elderly neighbour and his raincoat-wearing dog

Stroked the dog’s floofy head

Ran more than a kilometre without taking a walking break

[ellecdc]

Can i request something bit angsty? 🥺 its totally fine if you dont wanna write it tho!

I was thinking, wolfstar x reader got into an argument and reader started to occlude and the boys got scared they might be out of line bcs she only occlude when shes really hurting?

this is my SHIT - love me some hurt/comfort. thanks for requesting, lovie 🫶

poly!wolfstar x fem!reader

CW: hurt/comfort, arguing, mention of past family discourse, toxic family memories

“I’m sorry. You did what?” Sirius beseeched, walking into the living room from the kitchen and interrupting the points (arguments) you and Remus were each in the process of making. You gave him an unimpressed look, knowing he wasn’t actually asking you to repeat yourself, he just couldn’t believe what he had heard.

“She gave Mary-Ella over a grand.” Remus muttered bitterly.

“I did not give Mary-Ella money, I loaned her money.” You were quick to correct.

Sirius just scoffed. “Sure you did, dollface.” He sneered, making his usual pet-name burn to the touch. “You are never going to see that money again.”

“What were you thinking?” Remus implored.

“I was thinking that my friend was in a bind and needed help. I hardly think that’s a crime.” 

“You didn’t just loan a little bit of money, though. You loaned a lot of money to a friend who is not reliable in the slightest.” Remus asserted.

“We have been working so hard trying to save up to move. To move closer to Diagon Alley so that Remus can be closer to work, and we can finally get out of my uncles flat.” Sirius added.

“I know we’ve been working hard, Sirius. I know this because I too have been working hard. But I’m not going to watch my friend struggle when there’s something I could do to help!”

“This choice impacted all of us. You had no right to make this decision on your own.”

It was your turn to scoff as you turned to glare at Remus incredulously. You had been trying to stay patient, knowing that this close to the moon, Remus was feeling extra sensitive. But him ganging-up on you with Sirius quickly found what little patience you had running thin. “I 'had no right' to make a decision about money that I made on my own?”

“You have no ground to stand on, buttercup. You’re now out more than a grand because of this choice; we’re all out more than a grand because of your choice.” Sirius growled, tone full of derision.

“If the roles were reversed, Mary-Ella would help me out!” You tried to reason, only for Remus to bark a laugh.

“That doesn’t even matter, dove. Because you’d never be in her position and likewise, she’d never be in yours. She’s irresponsible, unreliable, and a mooch.”

You tried to ignore the burning sensation in your sinuses as you spoke to the back of Remus’ head; he apparently had grown so disgusted with you that he couldn’t even look at you anymore. 

“I don’t like you talking about my friends like that. I don’t understand why we’re making such a big deal about this, I jus-” but you were cut off as Remus stood abruptly and turned on you. 

“We’re making this a big deal because it is a big deal!” he bellowed. “You leave this apartment in the morning and it’s like Sirius and I don’t exist anymore. You conduct yourself like some single woman with no responsibility to anyone else but herself.”

“You’re being selfish. You can’t possibly expect to drop a bomb on us like this and, what, expect us to just reply with ‘yes dear’? You fucked up, Y/N.” Sirius added, arms crossed defensively over his chest and cold silver eyes glared daggers that permeated your entire being. Remus carried on, unperturbed by the effects this conversation was having on you.

You felt like you were seventeen again, like you were eleven, nine, six. You felt like a babe whose hand had been slapped for reasons beyond your comprehension.

Do you ever stop and think about the consequences, Y/N?

You were sitting at the dining room table as your father lashed you with his words, each sentence punctuated with the slamming of his fists on the table. You were standing on the platform having just reunited with your parents after the school year as your mother’s claws dug into your arms, warning you that punishment was to come later if you didn’t smarten up. You were cowering in the backyard as your father screamed at you in front of the entire neighbourhood – a free show for all to enjoy. 

You think crying will earn you any sympathy here? You’re a manipulative little witch if you think that will work on me. Keep crying and I’ll give you something to cry about. 

You felt naked – like your figurative clothes had been violently ripped from your body – and there you stood, stripped bare for all to leer at. Standing before two people...who were meant to love you unconditionally...as they laced their words with venom and spat vitriol at you.

You couldn’t even hear the point Remus was trying to make anymore. It didn’t matter anyway.

He hated you. You were hated. You were a disappointment, a burden, unwanted.

But you couldn’t cry – could never cry. You’d just be manipulating them. You were deceitful. Emotions were deceitful. The way you felt was wrong. And they were right.

Always right. 

So, you did what you always did; you made it quiet. 

You began layering rows of stones around your being. Protection. Space. Distance. Safety.

They couldn’t hurt you from all the way in here, not from the other side of your wall. You’d be safe here. Here in the quiet.

It was safe in the quiet. 

Sirius felt disgraceful at how long it took him to notice the signs of you pulling away from the conversation. Away from them. Away from him.

Remus – always more sensitive than the two of you when it came to the likes of money, combined with feeling extra flustered with the upcoming full moon – had no reason to expect nor recognize signs of occlusion. 

Suddenly, Sirius was fourteen again. Walburga was standing over him with her wand aimed at his chest, but all he could see was Regulus. He had prayed at the time that his brother could hear him begging in his mind:

Turn it off, Reg. Just turn it off. It can’t hurt you if you turn it off. 

Sirius himself sat in an almost constant state of occlusion during his fifth year, knowing somewhere deep in his gut that the beginning of the end of his life as the heir of the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black (or the end of his life in general) was near. 

Growing up wasn’t a whole lot easier for you, it seemed. And he knew that when things got to be too much, you did what you needed to do to protect yourself.

He suddenly hated himself. You weren’t supposed to need to protect yourself from him and Remus. It was their job to protect you; just like you always protected them. 

How you protected Remus from wasting away on the days leading up to and recovering from the full moon. You never let him go hungry or thirsty, you always made sure the space was clean and tidy, and you never let him fall into his typical pre- and post-moon self-loathing.

And you protected Sirius from himself; from saying things that he wouldn’t be able to take back, from being the worst version of himself, from losing you and Remus completely. 

He didn’t deserve you.

You didn’t deserve this.

For fuck’s sake all you had been doing was being kind.

Being a good friend, someone that others could rely on, protecting people who meant so much to you. 

All you were doing was being your kind, courteous, protective, generous self that Remus and Sirius had fallen in love with from the very start.

“Moony!” Sirius pleaded, causing the lycanthrope to pause in his tangent. You didn’t even flinch at the sudden change in the atmosphere as Remus looked at Sirius bewilderedly. 

“We’ve lost her.” Sirius murmured quietly, causing Remus to spin to observe you. 

“Well...” Remus began, still struggling to shake off his anger and the need to argue. “But I-”

“It’s enough, Remus.” Sirius hissed quietly, staring at Remus with a look he hoped conveyed no nonsense.

He apparently succeeded as Remus let out whatever breath he’d been holding as he turned again to face you.

“Dove, I’m sorry.” Remus whispered as he tried to move towards you, but you instinctively took a step back to maintain the distance between you; your arms wrapped around your middle protectively as if that was all that was holding you together. 

Sirius’ heart felt like it split in two – and based off of the look on Remus’ face, he wasn’t fairing any better.

“Y/N?” Sirius tried. You didn’t turn to look at him, but you hummed in quasi-acknowledgement.

“Can you look at me?” He tried quietly, but you shook your head no. 

Remus made a pained sound as he tried to move towards you again, ducking his head down in an attempt to make eye contact with you. You didn’t back away from him this time, but your arms tightened in their hold around your middle.

“Sweetheart, I’m sorry I...I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that. I’m...I was out of line.”

“Come back?” Sirius pleaded. “Please.”

You took a deep breath and turned your face towards your boyfriends, but Sirius could tell your eyes were still foggy – you were still hiding.

“We won’t talk about it anymore. That conversation is done.” Sirius said.

“But-” you started, voice grating from the tightness in your throat, but he cut you off.

“The conversation is done. You did what you thought was right, you were being your kind lovely self, helping your friend when they needed you. We shouldn’t have yelled at you, sweets. I’m sorry.”

Remus made another pained sound and moved closer to you again.

“Dovey, I’m so sorry. Please, can I- would you like a hug?”

Sirius watched as you looked at Remus, seeming to weigh your options before you nodded once at him. Remus needn’t any more invitation and quickly (though gently) made for you, enveloping you in his arms. 

The three of you stayed like that – Remus with his arms around you, you with your arms around yourself and your face pushed into his chest, and Sirius standing helplessly at the side – before Sirius started to notice some tension leaving your shoulders.

“Why’d you go?” He asked you quietly, gently placing a hand in the middle of your shoulder blades and rubbing in a way he hoped was soothing.

“I didn’t want to cry.” You admitted into Remus’ chest, neither boy missing how tight your voice seemed to be, even as your voice barely raised above a whisper. 

“Oh, dolly. Just cry. Cry, okay? Make us feel like tossers, but don’t leave.” Sirius said.

“I didn’t want you to feel bad.” You muttered wetly, finally turning so Sirius could see your red and wet face. 

“But we deserved it. Oh, my love.” Remus cooed as he all but picked you up and locked your legs around his hips, forcing you to move your grip from around yourself to around him.

“I’m not s’posed to make you cry. I’m s’posed to make you smile.” He muttered pitifully, pressing his lips into your hair.

“And cum.” Sirius spoke in the same pitiful tone, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead.

You laughed wetly and the last of your occlusion appeared to slip away which was what Sirius had been aiming for. It didn’t make him feel all that much better though.

“Oh, my girl. I’m so sorry, Pads is right. You were just being your lovely self, and I’m a bastard.”

Sirius watched as your brows furrowed. “You’re not a bastard.”

“No,” Sirius agreed readily, “he was just being a bastard. Both of us were. Do you think you can forgive us?”

You nodded quickly but Remus tsked in response.

“Don’t let us off so easily, dovey. Make us pay for it. What do you need? Do you need a foot rub? You want cake? Ice cream? What about a kitten? You’ve always wanted a kitten.”

You had been shaking your head at everything Remus said until the last one, your curiosity obviously piqued.

Fuckin’ hells, Sirius thought, if she gets a kitten everytime one of us acts like an arse, we’re going to be overrun with cats by next month. 

[theelvishfiddler]

AN ARTIST'S GUIDE TO HANDS

No, sorry it's actually not an artist's guide to drawing hands. Those are just warmup studies (which I'll talk about in this post.)

This is a guide to Your Hands and how to take care of them when making art.

No one ever sits down and teaches artists how to take care of their hands. They didn’t even teach me this while I was in art college. This is just what I've learned myself through years of pain and scouring the internet for advice.

This is going to be a long one and geared towards illustrative traditional/digital/pen/pencil artists specifically, but artists of other mediums and crafts should take care of their hands too! Well, we all should take care of our bodies in general, but this is about hands.

(advice is below the read more)

First off I'm not a professional or anyone with actual medical advice. I'm just some guy with chronic hand pain who makes art. This advice is free for you to use or discard.

WARMUPS!

Ever sit down in the morning to draw and wonder why your art is so stiff and looks so much worse than what you were drawing last night? It's because you didn't warm up!

You know how for physical sports they all warmup and do stretches before getting into the actual sport. To prevent injuries and all that? Yeah, it's good to do that for art too.

One way to warmup is to just draw lines. Try to keep them as straight as you can. Going up and down and diagonal. Draw squares. Big squares. Small squares. Circles! You are warming up, keep it loose and relaxed! Basically just scribble away.

(examples. I usually keep going until there is no paper white left. This can double as practice for drawing straight lines without a ruler, which is a great skill to have when freehand city drawing.)

Before hopping right into drawing people you can try doing some quick gesture drawings. Line of Action has timed sessions with a large variety of clothed or nude models. I usually do the 30 min class as it has a nice balance of short and long timed poses. The point isn't to draw nice art, but to warm up. Try to get the basic form down, not the details. I find that doing a full class session can really help my drawings feel more loose and grounded in reality for the rest of the day.

Some examples I found in my folders. I suggest looking into what a line of action (not the site) is and giving it a try with some of the studies!

COOLDOWNS!

For sports it's to return your body back to your everyday baseline after a workout.

Example; you are working on a big project! A masterpiece! It's detailed and cool! You have been focusing on this for hours and drawing so intensely. But you need to stop working for the day.

A cooldown is for winding down out of the go go go mindset. Put away the big project and do a couple small doodles and sketches. You are relaxing your hand and letting it stretch out. Keep the sketches loose. Let the art happen slowly. Don't polish anything, that can happen another day. Just ease yourself out of drawing.

...

Cool! Now we get into the meat of this thing.

HAND PAIN

How to avoid it and how to manage it if you already have it.

I love you artists and creatives, I am begging you to please take care of your most important creative tools. I really don't want this to sound like scare tactics like "oooh you better do this or blah blah!" Nope. I just had to learn all this the hard way and I'm extremely passionate about it.

Take this advice or don’t ╮(ﾟ～ﾟ;)╭ I can't tell you what to do, I'm not your dad

Adjustments and Small Solutions

If you are feeling physical discomfort while drawing there are many different solutions to try! Here are some suggestions that may or may not work for you.

Hold your pencil more loosely. Stop gripping that thang so tightly!!! Relax that hand! They make these… squishy pen grip things... I think they are called Adaptive Pencil Grips or Adaptive Writing/Drawing Aids? They stop your hand from being all cramped up by making your drawing tool wider. It's going to take a bit of time to adjust to drawing with it, but it's worth it for those who hold pencils too tightly.

Don't press as heavily. For traditional art, if you find yourself pressing really hard to get darker lines try moving to a softer pencil. Most standard pencils are HB, the B pencils have softer graphite. Experiment until you find the right one for you. For Digital, adjust your pressure settings so you don't have to press as hard to get thicker lines. You should not be pressing so hard all the time, it wears out both your hand and your tablet! It takes a bit of time to adapt to pencil or pressure changes. Try doing some unimportant sketches, they don't have to be good. You are just training your hand and mind to adjust using less pressure.

Draw with your arm and not your wrist! It's small repetitive motions that cause the most strain. You probably hear this one a lot, what does it even mean? It means moving your arm with the motions of your line, and trying not to make too many tiny movements with your just your fingers or wrist. This one is hard! It takes time and conscious thought to change the habit. Tips? Work bigger. Zoom in more. Use bigger sheets of paper.

(Motions exaggerated for a clearer example)

Change the angle of your drawing surface. They make angled tablet holders, angled desks, angled desktop raisers. Experiment, find and angle that is comfortable and the one that causes the least pain. (It's also good to make sure you don't have to hold your head at an uncomfortable angle when drawing. Staring straight down or hunching over a paper flat on the table can cause pain!)

Compression Glove? Wrist brace/tensioners? Some folks use them and I've been thinking of getting one for years now. I can't give advice on this one, because I don't have experience with it. Look into it if you want!

Managing Pain

First things first.

IF YOUR HANDS START TO HURT WHILE YOU ARE DRAWING. STOP! Put the pencil/pen/paintbrush/whatever down. The art will still be there for you to continue tomorrow.

I know from experience that it's extremely hard to pull away when you are hyper focused on an art piece. It's hard to remember all sorts of basic needs like food or bathroom when hyper focused. But you Need to stop when you feel that pain. (Preferably even before the pain…)

Take Breaks! Let your hands rest when you can. Just like a machine, if you don't schedule maintenance, the machine will schedule maintenance for you. Often that means having to wait a few days for it to return to functional. Best to take a day off from heavy usage or take an occasional 30 min break throughout the day to let your hands rest.

Stretching is important! Full body stretches are good; your arms, shoulders, neck, and spine are all connected, but I'm specifically talking about HAND and wrist stretching. There are a lot of stretches and massages for carpal tunnel and arthritis out there. I find they work for hand pain in general. Move into and out of each stretch slowly. Do not push a stretch if it hurts!! Be gentle!!

I am not a qualified professional and I will not be giving out specific stretches (that is beyond my personal comfort level). There are other artists out there who have made helpful stretching info-graphics which are cool, but I will not be because i don't want to be responsible for someone accidentally hurting themself. Ask your doctor for stretches & advice or look some up on your own.

Don't feel bad about forgetting to stretch frequently! Of course it is good to do it regularly and frequently, but I would be a hypocrite if I said that I remember to stretch daily. Setting timers for stop and stretch sessions can work for some people, but also doing stretches whenever you remember is fine! If you are sitting on the toilet you can idly do some hand stretches. On the bus? Laying in bed? At the beach? Do a couple stretches! Even just once a week is better than… nonce a week.

Using Cold or Heat to treat pain. If you really overdid it, put your hands in some cold water or wrap a cloth around an ice pack and apply it to your hand. Cold works best for me, but warmth works for others. This is just pain reduction and reducing inflammation from overuse! This is not a permanent solution.

If your hand hurts a lot! Frequently! Talk to your doctor? Idk mine has never given real advice. Just gently poked my hand and told me there isn't much to be done about it :/ but there are really good doctors out there who will care and give helpful advice!

Again. IF IT HURTS TO CONTINUE DRAWING. STOP DRAWING! This is not a "no pain no gain" type situation. Drawing so much that you hurt yourself isn't noble, it's just… limiting yourself. You only get one set of hands. These things are very handy to have.

Other Advice

Things I couldn't figure out how to fit into the earlier sections.

Your other hand can't handle the strain! Lets say you hurt your drawing hand... the other hand is right there free to use for art. Right? Wrong. Your other hand can't keep up with the demand, it hasn't been trained to the same extent as your dominant hand, it does not have the built up muscle. If you want to use that hand for drawing you are going to have to use it s l o w l y and train it bit by bit over a long period of time. When I tore a tendon in my right hand I decided to just keep drawing with my left and I got Really Good at it. It only took like two months before my left hand hurt too much to move. Then I had 0 functioning hands to pull up my pants. Not fun!!

People who draw on phones. That is extremely impressive! I'm amazed by the things people can create on such a small space. But phone artists are the ones I see most frequently mentioning hand pain. please please please make sure you are taking breaks. Would a stylus work instead of using a finger?

Outside of Drawing. Sometimes it's things outside of drawing that are causing the pain. For me there are multiple sources, but I also have tiny baby hands. Holding a phone too long causes pain. The handheld mode for my Switch causes A Lot of pain. The way my hand rests while typing on my laptop hurts! Playing tense videogames for too long hurts! Find the source of your pain and make some changes. The same things will apply to most; take regular breaks, do some stretches, and find soft things to prop up or rest your arms on.

Change your Artstyle. This one is more of a last resort. You might have to change your art style if you are getting sharp pains every time you draw. I loved drawing tight clean lines and many small fancy details, but drawing like that left me in so much pain at the end of the day. In 2023 I had to take the better part of year off from illustrations just to learn how to sketch and draw more loosely. I had to learn how to be gentle. To stop gripping my pencil so tightly. Learn! Adapt! You might discover a new style that you love even more!

A lot of this stuff gets more complicated in a work setting where you have to draw fast and long in order to get paid. Things like reducing your workload can help, but that can be... financially rough. But outside of that, it’s ok to be a slow artist. Going full steam and hurting yourself is not worth it.

Aaaaaanyway, thats all folks. Today's rant brought to you by me! The guy with chronic hand pain who always forgets to stretch! The guy who got frustrated with a sketch yesterday and decided to push to keep drawing for just one more hour! The guy who woke up this morning and had to spend 2 hours massaging and stretching their hands. The guy who probably shouldn't have typed all of this out because ooww ow ouch

If your hands do hurt, it's going to be ok! You don't need to be a speed demon who draws all the time. It's ok to take your time and take frequent breaks. You are going to do great things! Just be gentle with yourself...

[thoughtportal]

Victorian puzzle purse

What you need:

A square paper. Mine is 21 x 21cm cut from a A4 paper. Use a thicker paper if you are going to be using watercolours as you’re going to be painting double sided.

Your favourite decorating tools!

Below is the How-to. I’ve also uploaded a more detailed tutorial on my story for my origami beginners so that you can flick back and forth:

Fold along diagonally in both corners. You will have two creases forming four triangles.

Fold into three sections. Rotate 90 degrees and repeat this step folding inwards.

Flip it over!

Fold all bottom corners to meet the corners of the centre square.

Flip it over again so you’re back on the side you started with.

Fold four corners inwards and twist slightly until a pinwheel shape forms. This bit is a bit scary but trust your creases!

Form a purse by folding the arms inwards.

Tuck the last arm in! 💌

Decorating tips: Make it unique for the person receiving it! In my card I’ve included things that we both like: lemons and apples we like to bake desserts with, favourite flowers…. And lots of cliche stuff like love hearts, angels, love birds and poems because why not! I’ve placed these motives in mirroring positions to create symmetry – gives it that folky vibe

{watch}

[desideriumwriter]

Metamorphosis | F.W. x Reader

Summary: Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

CW: established relationship, mentions of a head injury, TBIs, migraines, blood, being cut from broken glass, yelling, arguing, crying, not proofread

WC: 4.3k

A/N: now this one is a rollercoaster

based off this request! | f.w. masterlist | navi

Things had been difficult since May.

Voldemort was dead and the war was over. But everyone was dealing with the aftermath.

Things were quiet for a while, people were quiet. Distant but united at the same time. It took a few months for everyone to try and go back to normal.

Now it was November, and Fred was still dealing with the aftermath.

Of course, a head injury from being hit with a spell and a literal stone wall falling on him would have its long-term effects. You’d already read the list over who knows how many times.

Memory loss, light sensitivity, aggression, problems with multitasking, communication issues, irritability, mood swings, forgetfulness, etc. The list went on and on, you hated how long it was. 

You did research on it, listening to his doctors and picking up as many books you could find on head injuries or TBIs.

You even got your hands on some textbooks that muggle medical students used.

George and you took care of Fred after he came back to your shared space above the shop. He spent his first week after being discharged from the hospital at his mums, due to Mollys demands.

Things slowly went back to normal after a few months. Most things.

Shops reopened all along Diagon Alley, including the twins, people felt safe to go out and chat with each other again. 

Life went back to how it was before the war began.

The cold weather was getting harsher and so was Fred. 

You knew that the irritability and mood swings would come along with the injury. You just weren’t expecting it to be so constant.

Fred had his bad days and he had his better days. Today was one of those bad days.

You could tell he was really struggling remembering what was in stock and what needed to be made more of. You sat with him at the counter as he wrote down on a notepad what was needed. Taking notes was one of the things that helped him nowadays.

You saw him look up, the cogs attempting to turn in his head.

“Peruvian Darkness Powder.” You said softly, it was the next thing that needed to be restocked.

“Right. That. Thanks.” He muttered out, crouching over to write it down, his hand shaky and handwriting a bit wobbled.

Frustrated with his shaky hands, he threw the pen down, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his face.

“I just don’t get why it’s so hard. I feel like I can’t properly do anything.” He groaned, the annoyance clear in his voice.

“Fred, it's what the symptoms of a-”

“I know it’s a fucking brain injury. I’ve heard it enough goddamn times. You don’t need to spell it out for me.” Fred spat out, ripping his hand from yours and walking past you. That was the fourth time he snapped at you today.

After closing that night, you sat on the bench right outside the shop. Elbows resting on your knees with your head in your hands.

You were really trying here. Trying your best not to get mad at him, to yell and spit at him as he did you.

He was still your Fred that you loved. He was just a bit different now, and that was okay, he was still your Fred.

The door to the shop opened, the silly tune of the charmed bell playing as a tall figure stepped out. Fred stood to the side of you now, his frame blocked out the light shining on you from the street lamps. The only light now being from the inside of the shop, illuminating his and your face once you looked up.

You breathed in deep, closing your eyes for a second, trying to keep any tears from falling. The cold wind wasn’t helping.

“Hi.” He gave you a shamefaced smile.

George had definitely scolded him and told him to apologize once you went outside. It’s not the first time he’s made him do it in recent times.

“Hi.” You sighed.

“I’m- I didn’t mean to snap at you when you were trying to help me with what needed to be restocked, or when you offered to sort the mail.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, suddenly feeling small. The feeling had become constant for him now.

“And before both of those, when you snapped at me in your office. Then in front of one of the cashiers.”

“I did?” He said softly, genuinely shocked. You nodded, brows knit together.

“Oh, I didn’t even realize. I don’t even remember that. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be so harsh.” Fred looked down, having the same expression as a kicked puppy.

“It’s okay, Fred. I know you don’t mean to.” You slowly nodded.

“I’m trying to not be so rude. I’m trying to be better, I promise.”

“I know, Fred. I know.” You sniffled.

The doctors said practicing patterns would help with cognitive ability. Patterning. So stocking the purple and orange mystery boxes in a pattern would be Fred’s practice.

He began to practice different patterns:

Purple. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat.

Then moved onto a bit more strange ones:

Purple. Purple. Orange. Orange. Purple. Orange. Repeat. 

He was struggling a bit more than usual today, you watched as he did, and it broke your heart.

You sighed as you put your notepad away, pausing writing down the grocery list for now and making your way over to Fred.

You reached out, putting the next correctly colored box on the shelf for him. He grumbled out a ‘thanks’.

“I can do the rest for you. Go give your brain a break.” You breathed out a laugh, trying to be lighthearted as you picked up the large box filled with the remaining mystery boxes to be put away.

“No, it’s fine. I’ve got it.”  Fred mumbled out, paying you barely any mind.

“Fred, I can tell your stressed enough just let me-“

“Will you piss off? I said I've got it!” Fred didn’t mean to yell, especially in the middle of a busy store, he was just frustrated. 

Your cheeks heated up in embarrassment and anger due to all the staring eyes of confused customers looking at the both of you.

“Fine, fucking do it yourself then.” You shoved the box into his hands. Walking off, pissed off as you threw off your hat onto the counter.

George murmured your name as you walked by, trying to put a hand on your shoulder, you shoved out his grasp.

You hid away in the back stockroom. George followed, entering a tiny bit after you.

You sat on a wooden box, leaned over with your head in your hands. 

“You know he doesn’t mean it. He got blasted pretty hard, it’s just one of the side effects.” George sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets.

You were so tired of those two words. Side effects. Yes, of course you knew what the side effects and symptoms were, that they wouldn’t be pretty or easy. But you were just so sick of hearing it.

You shrugged, lifting your head up.

“He's frustrated. With himself.” George sat down next to you, intertwining his hands into a ball. “He always feels bad after he gets angry.”

“I know, and I’m trying my best to help him out but it’s like he never fucking wants it. He refuses.”

“He’s never liked help, always wanting to be so damn independent and stubborn.” George let out a weak chuckle and shook his head. “It took him five minutes to accept the money Harry gave us. Even after that he tried to tell Harry he’d give it back if he changed his mind.”

“I remember, I was there.” You smiled a bit to yourself at the memory, Fred was so adamant about Harry keeping the money, or at least most of it.

“Chocolate?” He pulled a small bar off one of the shelves, you shook your head. “It’ll make you feel better.” You persuaded, you let out an amused sigh and took it.

“You stole that line from Lupin.” Unwrapping it and biting off a small chunk.

“Yeah, but it works doesn’t it?” You let out a defeated nod and smile in response, taking another bite.

“He’s not gonna be like this forever. You know that. He’s gotten a lot better since May. Just, his moodiness will stick around for a little bit.”

“I know. I’m just so worried about him. I can’t help it.”

George was at Angelinas for the night. It took him ten minutes to stop worrying and finally go, constantly reminding you if you needed his help with Fred, if Fred starts getting mean, to send him an owl and he’d come back immediately. You shooed him off and assured him Fred and you would be fine, that he should go have a worry-free night with Angelina.

It was going well, you watched a short movie and shared some snacks and cuddles on the couch. It was all going so nicely until you both decided to get changed and go to bed.

You slipped on a night shirt talking to Fred about the movie as he opened the top drawer on the wooden dresser. The one that creaked and occasionally jammed from time to time. 

Tonight was one of those times.

He pulled out a pair of pajama pants from the drawer, his eyebrows knitting together when he pushed the drawer and it barely moved. You looked over and frowned disappointedly.

“It’s stuck again.” You sighed, thinking out loud. 

“I know.” Fred muttered out under his breath, you didn’t catch it.

You watched as he repeatedly tried to push it, it wouldn’t budge.

“It’s just old, maybe tomorrow we could go window shopping for a new one?” You suggested sweetly as he didn’t respond, he just clenched his jaw as he continued trying to close it.

He used a terrifying amount of force as he slammed the drawer shut with one last push, causing the whole thing to ratter. The sudden movement and sound made you jump. You took a step back, Fred noticed. His expression faltered for a moment as his eyes scanned your body language.

“What, are you scared of me or something now?” He muttered, an attitude in his voice.

“No, I never said I was scared of you. You just…”

 “What? I’ve just what?” 

You were so sick of his attitude. You took in a deep breath before speaking.

“You’ve been acting up, you’ve been slamming doors, throwing things down when you’re frustrated, you yell more. At George and I especially. You’re unpredictable.” You let out quickly.

“Unpredictable? I have not been that bad. You’re dramatic.” Fred shot back, he was a bit hurt by your words, yet deep down he knew you were right. His actions had become surprising. But he was too damn stubborn and he was in the middle of a beginning argument, so he wouldn’t admit to it now.

“I’m not, you’re proving your point with how you’re being now. You’re being stubborn and defensive. You get angry and you yell at me. When I’m just trying to help! The doctors said-”

“I don’t give a shit what the fucking doctors told you! Or those stupid books you’ve been wasting your time on!” All this yelling hurt his head. But the words were spilling out his mouth like a waterfall of poison. 

“Have you considered your not being any help? If you really wanted to help you’d let me do shit myself instead of acting like I’m fucking stupid! You wouldn’t be walking on eggshells around me! You’d let me be instead of being a pounding in my head!” His chest heaved, his face slowly being filled with regret as he saw you. Taking a step back with the most painful stare at him, astonishment and hurt written all over your face.

He watched as you brought your arms up around you, holding yourself as if it was a way of shielding yourself from his words.

“Is that really what you think of me?” Your voice went soft. A small crack in your delivery of words as you rubbed your upper arm.

“No! Absolutely not! I just- I’m-” Here comes the sputtered out apologies, the regret filling him up immediately, you just shook your head.

“Forget it, I’m done with this conversation.” You barged out the room. That look never leaving your face, it will haunt him forever.

“Where are you going? I thought you were going to bed?” He called out as you went down the hallway.

“I’m sleeping on the couch tonight.” You shouted back, more of a loud mutter really. Fred said your name disappointedly, leaning against the bedroom door frame. You didn’t respond, you didn’t turn around, you made your way to the couch.

He didn’t run after and stop you. Knowing you’d give him the silent treatment and refuse to get in the same bed as him. For tonight only. Hopefully.

Though you tried to muffle and hide your sobs behind your hands, Fred could still hear it all the way from the bedroom. Those pained sharp breaths in that turned into wheezes, the little hiccups and whimpers of sadness you made when you breathed out were far too loud to be hidden.

You cried for two hours until you finally got a grip of yourself. Getting up and going down the hallway, not to get back in bed, but to see if Fred was.

You peeked your head in just enough to see his side of the bed, he was laying on his back peacefully, his eyes puffy. Had he been crying also?

He was relaxed now though, resting. At least he was getting some sleep. You quietly sneaked back to the living room. Lying back down on the couch and using a throw pillow for your head. 

You couldn’t get comfortable, couldn’t keep your eyes shut, couldn’t stop thinking, you couldn’t sleep. You missed him, you really just wanted to be next to him.

By the time the clock ticked to 2AM, you got up, tiptoeing back into the bedroom. Sneaking to your side of the bed, so carefully pulling back the sheets. You moved so carefully, so lightly, so gently as if everything was made of fine china. 

You debated if you should snuggle up to Fred, not wanting to wake him. What if he got annoyed again? You really didn’t want to deal with another conflict.

You carefully scooted over to him anyways, testing your luck. You slowly wrapped your arm around his torso, ever so lightly laying your head on his chest. He began to move and your body immediately tensed up.

His arm hooked around you, circling your waist, the other arm reaching over, his hand softly placed on the side of your head. Your body went limp in happiness. You could start crying again from all the joy you felt in this moment.

This is how you knew Fred hadn’t become a whole other person than the one you knew before the accident. His hands on you, holding onto you so sweetly, just like he used to. There were still those little remnants of his true self hanging around. He was still Fred. He was still your Fred.

You woke up to an empty bed. The sunlight shining down on Freds side of the mattress.

You changed into more presentable clothes, hearing the chatter from downstairs and knowing the shop was open. 

Going downstairs, Fred was nowhere to be seen while George was moving around helping customers and constantly casting spells to organize things.

Owning a joke shop was absolutely not a one man job.

“Where’s Fred?” You asked, looking around as you approached the counter. George was stacking cards. 

“In his office. Another migraine.” He tucked in his lips, seemingly annoyed.

“Oh. Well, I’m gonna go out, probably window shop. Do you need anything?”

“Could you get some cabbage? And a few more quills and ink? We’re running low.” He said, swiveling his way out from behind the counter.

You may have stayed out longer than you meant to.

Thinking you’d be back before five, you got home at nearly eight instead.

You did some looking around in local furniture shops, and you picked up what George asked for. You mostly just walked around the quieter streets, needing to get away from all the noise.

By the time you got back it was a bit dark outside and there was a closed sign on the shop door. You unlocked and locked it quickly, moving upstairs tiredly.

The living room light was turned off, the moonlight from outside being the only thing that made the room somewhat visible. Fred was sitting on the couch.

“Hey.” You spoke softly. 

“Hi.”

“Where’d George go?”

“He stopped by Angelina’s for dinner.” He said blankly. Everything felt so awkward.

“Oh. Have you eaten?” You asked as you set down the bags of supplies.

“Yeah, I had some leftovers.”

“Okay, well, what’re you doing in the dark? Get some light in here.” You giggled as you flipped up the light switch, overhead light brightening up the room.

Fred quickly scrunched his eyes closed with a pained expression, he put a hand up to shadow his face.

Fuck. Light sensitivity. He was already dealing with a migraine, that’s why he was in the dark, and you turning on the light made it much more intense.

“Shit. Sorry, sorry, sorry.” You blurted out as you hit the switch down, the room going darker again.

“Here, I’ll- I’ll get you a glass of water.” You sputtered out, running over to the kitchen sink and grabbing a glass, filling it up with cold water from the tap.

“No, you don’t have to.” Fred muttered out.

“Please, it’ll help. Just let me help.” You pleaded as you ran back over to the couch, sitting down and holding the glass towards him. He denied it again.

“Fred, just drink-“

“I told you! No!” He shouted, pushing your hand away.

The glass slipped out of your grasp. Hitting the floor and cracked into pieces, somewhere in the impact a small shard hit your lower leg. Nothing serious, it could be quickly closed up with a spell, but it was bleeding heavily already.

Fred realized what had happened once you felt the stung and winced, holding a hand over your small injury, crimson staining your hand and dripping onto your sock.

“Oh Merlin, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” He panicked as he straightened up, patting his sides for his wand, he had left it in his office. He saw yours on the coffee table.

“Here, let me fix-” He reached one hand towards your wand, the other laying on your shoulder.

“Don’t. It’s fine, I’ve got it.” You said as you reached across, grabbing your wand and leaned your shoulder away from his touch.

His stomach twisted, the guilt was eating him up. He fidgeted with his fingers, not knowing what to do with his hands now that you refused his touch and his help.

You said a quick spell, the cut swiftly closing, skin looking unharmed and the only evidence of what happened being the remnants of drying blood on your leg and hand.

“I’m gonna go wash off my hands.” You said so quietly, almost a whisper. Fred stayed silent as he watched you get up and walk away, he wanted to cry.

You returned to the living room with a packed suitcase, quickly walking past Fred on the couch and to the chimney. His eyes stayed glued on you the entire time. You didn’t look at him.

“You’re leaving?” Freds brows knit together in a sad way, he sat up straight from his spot on the couch.

“Yeah. Not for long. I’ll be back.” You spoke, back facing him as you put down your small suitcase.

“Where?”

“A friends place. For a few days.” You didn’t tell him who, he would most likely send letters apologizing.

George was the one who suggested it surprisingly. Once he came home as you were washing off the blood, he told you to go take a few days to yourself.

“No offense to you, you’ve been doing great. But I’ve lived with him for nearly twenty-six years. I know how to deal with him when he’s mad.” He held your shoulders.

“I know how to deal with him too, you know.” 

“Of course I do. But I know you’re worn out as well. You need to take some care of yourself. Focus on you for a few days.” You really didn’t want to agree with George on that, it felt rude to do it. There was really no good way of saying he was wearing you down.

“I’m sorry.” Fred spoke out.

“I know, Fred.” You let out a heavy breath. “I’m not mad at you. I think we should take a break from each other.” You tried not to let your voice wobble.

“You don’t mean a break up, right?” He stood up from the couch.

“No. Of course not.” You finally turned around, looking at his gloomy face. “We just need to spend some time apart, just for a day or so. Okay?” You kept your voice soft and nurturing, hoping it would hide the way your own words were breaking your heart.

"Can I just get a hug before you leave? Please?" Fred took a few steps closer, his steps cautious. You closed your eyes and nodded.

You didn’t want to look at him for too long, both of your faces were threatening to deteriorate into tears, and you couldn’t stand to see it.

He pulled you into him nicely, hands slowly and carefully wrapping around you like you would crack if he moved the wrong way.

“I’m sorry I’m like this. I love you.” He said softly, sounding like it was a plea for you to stay.

“I know.” You mumbled into his chest.

Fred’s injury didn’t bother you. The forgetfulness of struggles with certain things didn’t bother you, you didn’t care if he struggled to keep track with things. 

It was just his anger. His outbursts. His shouting. That’s what bothered you, it was nothing like him. Sure, he’s definitely gotten moody or stubborn or annoyed before like during Quidditch matches back at Hogwarts or when a much needed shipment arrived late at the shop.

But you’ve rarely seen him truly mad, yell like he does now, the only time you can remember him like that is when he had to be held back from helping George and Harry beat up Malfoy after a match in his seventh year.

“I still love him, of fucking course I do. But he’s changed so much. it’s like,” You stopped, clenching your jaw and trying your best trying to keep tears from returning. “It’s like sometimes I look at him, and he’s a ghost, he’s a completely different man I fell in love with all those years ago.”

“You’ve changed too.” Alicia commented, “You’re not as much of a hermit as you used to be.” She joked, poking you.

“Oh piss off.” You let out a breathy chuckle, face falling soon after. “I’m scared. What if he stays like this forever?” You whispered out, a small crack in your voice.

“He won’t. You told me already, there’s still that cheeky little Fred that you’ve always know still in him. He’s getting better day by day.” She tilted her head. “And fuck it. Even if he doesn’t, even if it takes a while, you gotta grow with him.” You looked at her, puzzled expression on your face.

“If you don’t grow with him, if you aren’t willing to go through that, then what in the hell are you doing?” She shrugged, laying back in her chair. “You’ve gone through these shitty times with him before, right? And you both made it through. What makes you worried you won’t be able to do it again?” 

Alicia was right. You’ve gone through rough patches with him and made it out just fine. Casual disagreements, arguments and fights, yet you always made up. Leaving those arguments in the past and loving each other in the present.

“You staying another night?” Alicia asked you, taking a sip from her glass.

“No, I think I’ll go back. I’ll send an owl and tell them before I go.”

Once the green flames subsided and you stepped out of the chimney, dusting off your clothes. Fred came running into the room, a bouquet of all the flowers in his hand.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“Feeling alright today?”

“Yeah. Yeah. Are you?”

“Yeah.”

God, you hated the awkward tension in the air. It felt like this every time you had a conversation.

“That’s good. Uh, these are for you.” He stuck out the bouquet nervously, hand trembling. You put down your suitcase and stepped closer. A small noise of adoration left as you looked at the flowers, it was all your favorites.

“I may not be able to remember much. But I remembered these were always your favorite.” He let out an awkward laugh.

The last time you told him what flowers you liked was in year five. You took the bouquet from him with hesitant hands, surprised by the gift. Fred swallowed his anxiety before he began to speak again.

“I didn’t mean to be so rude. I just get so frustrated with myself, I don’t want to act like that anymore. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t take it out on you, you didn’t deserve it.” He moved to cup his hands around your face, bringing your teary eyes to meet his.

“I promise you I’m going to be better. I swear on everything. I will be better.” He gave you a sweet kiss on your forehead, then pulled you into a hug. 

You held on tightly to his torso, turning the flowers away to keep them from being crushed.

“I love you.” You said into his sweater, tears beginning to fall.

“I love you too. So much.”

tell me what you thought! <3

[asterias-record-shop]

cherry cola and popcorn (s.h.)

Steve Harrington was never one to repeat dates with you, someone he wanted to be his high school sweetheart for the rest of his life. But, when he realized how much you loved drive-in movie dates, he had to put that in the rotation of your dates. Tonight, though, was couples night at the drive in, and something just had Steve turned on. – 2.1K words

Steve wanted to get you flowers. Your favorite flowers, specifically.

He didn’t really get anyone flowers until he got with you, and he saw how much you loved getting them, so stopping by your house to pick you up for the movie before walking in to watch you lovingly cut the flowers to put into a vase.

After picking his favorite bouquet that reminded him of you, he walked back to his car and drove to your house to pick you up – aware of the fact that what he probably just thought up would most likely happen.

So when he knocked on your door and you opened it up, a black dress with a cherry pattern dotted all over the fabric and your neckline dropping low to show off slight bits of your pretty tits.

“Hey baby!” You giggled when you saw him, quickly taking the flowers. “Oh, they’re so pretty! Thank you, Stevie,” you leaned forward to kiss his lips as he walked inside, his hand settling in the small of your back as he followed you in. “What movie are we watching tonight?”

Steve hummed softly, kissing your temple. “Mmm, not sure. It’s Couples Night, so I’m assuming a romance.”

His words made you groan, sighing softly. “I hope it’s not one of those cringy ones.”

He smiled as he watched you take the flowers out of plastic, starting to take off the leaves and trim the stem. He knew you would do that, that’s how you always took care of your flowers.

“Would you rather that or erotica?” He laughed as you groaned, sighing.

“Honestly? Erotica,” you giggled as you cut the stems diagonally. “Better than some damn cringy ass romance.”

“You don’t like romance, baby?” Steve came behind you, holding your hips with a smile, tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a smile. “You don’t think I romance you?”

“I like the way you romance me,” you leaned back into him, smiling widely as you tilted your head to the side so he kissed against your skin. “Not the cringy romances on TV.”

He hummed softly as he let his hands trail down the smooth fabric of the dress, tilting his head slightly. “I love this dress. Is it new?”

You smiled, nodding. Steve always noticed the little things. “Mhm. Just got it.”

His hands started to go lower on your sides, his lips kissing firmly against your neck. The feeling made your head spin as you inhaled deeply, slowly putting the flower food at the bottom of the vase before filling it up with water.

“Think it might be my new favorite,” he whispers, biting his lip. “Definitely my new favorite, to be honest… looks so good on you.”

You hummed softly, nodding as you put the flowers into the vase. They fit perfectly. “Reminds me of cherry cola.”

He smiled. You loved cherry cola. “Then why don’t we go get your favorite from the drive in?”

You hummed, nodding. “Definitely. I got some allowance, too.”

Steve shook his head, kissing under your ear. “Uh uh… I invited you out, I’m paying.”

He was always like that, always a gentleman when he started taking you out on dates – and you at some points hated it. He really wanted to do as much as he could for you, and you hated it as much as you loved it, just because you really wanted to give back to him.

Still, he wanted to make sure that you knew that you could repay him in other ways, like wearing this pretty dress.

“Come on,” he whispered, smiling. “Let’s go. I don’t want us to be late.”

You hummed, nodding as you grabbed your purse and both of you walked out. He opened the door for you like a gentleman, helping you inside before going around and quickly getting in. Starting the car, he pulls you to the center seat making you giggle, wrapping one arm around your form and softly kissing your head before he drives off.

You let your hand settle on his thigh, tracing patterns against the denim before going up and down steadily. Steve knew how to hide the fact you were turning him on, for fucks sake, he had been hiding you ever since he met you.

So, as you drove towards the drive-in movie theater, the only thing on his mind was getting you that cherry cola. And, of course, some popcorn for himself.

Most of the time in this relationship, he wasn’t the one to think about himself, your pleasure and your happiness over his own. That was just the type of person that was in this relationship, his relationship with you.

So when you both finally got to the drive-in movie theater he painstakingly had to draw his attention from your fingers and to the teenage boy at the ticket stand. Steve had seen the guy around the school, and he looked even more tired here than he did at school.

Steve tipped him after buying the tickets, weaving through cars to get as close as possible to the screen as you started taking off your seatbelt. He turned off the car as you tugged at his jean jacket.

“Come with me to the snack shack?” Your voice was slightly whiny as you looked up at him with wide eyes, teasing him.

How could he say no to that?

So, he followed you to the snack shack, his hand continuously on the small of your back as you both went through the line where he watched you order a large and medium bucket of popcorn, with two cherry colas and a box of your favorite candy before you got to the cashier.

The girl told you the price and you held your hand out to Steve, your boyfriend already putting his wallet in your hand as he gathered everything that you had purchased, positioning his arms expertly as you paid. You kept his wallet with you as you both walked back to the car, commercials playing as you got in and he passed you the drinks so he wouldn’t spill before going around.

He passed you the popcorn as you stuck a straw into your bottled cherry cola, sipping on it as Steve pulled you closer, softly kissing your head as you popped a piece of popcorn into your mouth.

“Want some?”

Steve shook his head as you pouted slightly, looking back at the screen as you fixed your dress. His hand slowly pulled away from your shoulders, fixing his position to the side as he let his head duck down to kiss into your neck.

His kisses were hot and wet, open mouth against your neck as you inhaled shakily, tilting your head to the side as you set the bottle and box of popcorn in his cupholders. “Stevie-”

He hummed, shaking his head into your neck as his large hand started to bunch up your dress. “Fuck, baby… I told you this is my favorite dress… it’s doing something to me, I swear,” he whispered against your neck, his tongue trailing the expanse of your collarbone. “Can I baby? Please?”

You couldn’t focus on his words, tilting your head back as his hands slowly explored your body, one gently pushing apart your thighs to let his fingers trail up and down your slit while the other cupped your braless tits.

“Please baby? I want you so bad, I promise I’ll be gentle…”

Steve was never gentle, not unless you needed him to be. And right now, with the way he was sucking and digging his teeth into your skin, you didn’t need him to be gentle.

“You don’t have to,” you whisper as he smiles into your neck, finally pulling away from your neck with slightly puffy lips. “J-Just… don’t make it so obvious.”

“Come here baby,” he whispered as he shifted you to the driver's seat, pressing the small switch on the side of the seat to lean his seat back. You yelped, not expecting it as he slowly ducked under your dress, groaning as he trailed his nose into your inner thigh. “Fuck, you never wear panties under dresses like this… it drives me fucking insane.”

You gasped as he nudged his nose against your clit, a breathy exhale against your fluttering cunt making your thighs twitch.

“Spread your legs for me baby…” he puts one of your feet on the resting spot meant for a driver’s foot and the other on the slight lift of the floor for the middle seat. “Mmmm, your cunt looks so fucking pretty…”

You could only imagine how you looked, absolutely soaked and your lips puffy as he let his tongue trail circles around your clit. His fingers slowly massaged against your entrance, his blunt digits making you squirm slightly as you whined and started to roll your hips.

“St-Stevie-”

“I know, babe,” he murmured, nodding into your slit as he let his tongue flick against your entrance to taste your perfect essence. “Fuck, you taste so good… so fucking good.”

You pushed your hands under your dress, bunching it up at your waist and lifting it to see Steve licking languidly up and down your slit. A shiver ran down your spine as you watched him, his eyes never leaving yours as he sucked against your clit, a whine leaving your mouth as he slowly pushed his fingers into you. He always stretched you out with his fingers before he pushed his tongue into you and used it to make you cum countless times.

“Steve,” you groaned as you tilted your head back, your thighs shaking as you held the back of his head, pulling him closer. “Fuck, Stevie-”

“I know,” he whispered against your clit, languidly pumping his fingers in and out of you. Your walls clamped down on his digits as he flexed them inside of you, slowly pushing all of those special buttons that drove you insane. “I know, baby, I got you. I know what makes you feel good.”

Oh, you knew that he knew what made you feel good.

He let his teeth trail your clit just how you liked it, and he let you guide his face with slight tugs on your hair as you bucked your hips. He let you fuck yourself on his fingers, only languidly pumping until he heard your moans get louder, pushing his fingers deeper and rougher to hit that special spot inside of you that he knew would make you come undone.

His fingers inside of you felt so good, he knew what he was doing, he always did. You knew as soon as you came on his digits, he would use his tongue to fuck into you until his jaw ached.

So that was what was on your mind as you whined loudly, bucking your hips into his fingers as his lips continued their assault on your clit, sucking and nibbling against the sensitive bundle of nerves that began to puff up at his constant stimulation.

“Come on baby,” he whispered against your clit, groaning softly as he pushed his fingers in down to his knuckles. “Cum.”

You wailed as your hand pressed against the window, trying to steady yourself as your other hand kept his face in your cunt, bucking your hips into his mouth as you groaned loudly. He laughed against your cunt, groaning as you continued to use his fingers, your walls clamping down onto his digits making him shift his mouth down to your entrance.

He twisted his hands so that his wrist was up, curling his fingers inside of you and opening his mouth as though you were giong to cum like a faucet.

You basically did, hips bucking on their own as your hand pressed into the window, your other fingers tugging his hair back as he stayed close to your cunt, wet squelching filling the car as you wailed. He was always so good at this, so so good…

When you finally came down from your high, hips rolling lazily with soft whines as he pulled his fingers out of you and looked up.

“You don’t think we’re done, do you baby? The movies still got time left, and I’m not leaving this damn drive in until I fuck you.”

I do not ever give consent to my work being published on other platforms or being translated at any point, even if it is a request. If my work is on any other platform, it’s without my permission. Your media consumption is not my responsibility.

© asterias-record-shop

[itoshi-s]

wld u have any input on perv!reo w an innocent/oblivious reader??

──✧ ˚ · “ 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞

*.✧ ft. 𝐫𝐞𝐨 𝐦𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐠𝐞

*.✧ wc: 10.1k. nsfw & dark content / 17+ only / minors dni ! - fem reader, characters are 18+ (but meet as teenagers), dub-con, slow burn, reo's a whore and a sleaze, manipulation, corruption, slight obsessive behavior, misuse of power (reader sees reo as kind of a brotherly figure), cunnilingus, reo's needy, mentions of taking unsolicited sex pics, panty stealing. // notes: reo is either a perv or a sub and there's no in between ! reo fuckers enjoy (☆ω☆)

the first time reo sees you, he’s barely fourteen and  it’s in his family home, sitting straight in your seat at the dining table.

you look gorgeous with your big, curious eyes, long lashes, and a lip balm giving your pout a pink sheen. you’re different from all the other girls he’s seen around at school - you don’t try to look older, and actually look your age. a nice change for once. he steals a few glances upon your way from his seat diagonally across, fork digging into the tender steak on his plate. it was nice for a change to not be the only teen at the table, and actually, it was a bit surprising too. your parents were frequent guests at his house, due to the many links between their company and mikage corp, but this was the first time you tagged along. actually, reo doesn’t think he’s ever heard them mention having a daughter - but then again, his head is always anywhere but here, at the table, when the adults discuss over business details and joke around topics that make his head ache and confusion settle on his features.

“what about you, love? got any plans for the future?” reo moves his eyes from his glass of juice to his mother upon hearing her address you. she’s so sweet, just like always. 

you blink once, twice, and nod quickly, “oh- oh, yes, actually. i want to help people.” you beam, the smile you’re sporting making your cheeks plump and full. “maybe, um, set up a foundation, or something? i dunno, like the one that organized the ball a week ago, right papa?”

reo has to hold back a roll of his eyes, the interest you first sparked in him long gone. now this was something he’s heard from about every other girl he knows - the other option either being fashion or a family company heir, just like him. you sound a bit clueless, too, the sheepish tone of your voice making you seem even more childish. (not like he’s grown up, of course, but then again, you’re even worse.) 

despite how cute you are that day, reo doesn’t feel any interest in you whatsoever. the reason behind why you looked so innocent compared to his other friends, who already started to experiment with makeup and more mature clothing, doesn’t make it any easier to like you either. you are a year younger, and from what his mother tells him once you leave, your parents are very strict on keeping you unscathed by the pressure social media and society puts on young girls. now the thought of you hanging out at his place more often sounds so nohow, it doesn’t even make him excited to finally have some company. you seem immature and a bit naive, and while reo’s anything but aloof, he doubts that he’ll ever get along with you.

or, at least, so he thinks after the night you first meet. as expected, you start coming over to his place more often, now that a brand new deal between your families is about to be signed. while your parents discuss future plans over wine, reo is shocked to hear that for once, maybe he can show you around the house instead of sitting next to them and getting familiar with the investments. 

you’re not actually that insufferable, reo realizes after several long hours of you hanging out together in his room. you have an older brother that’s a professional volleyball player now, and he sees the longing in your eyes when you mention him playing overseas. it sparks his interest, how your brother began his career when he was just about his age - he had everything a teenage boy could ever dream of, and yet, he’d rather move to the other side of the world to chase a dream that didn’t gave him any certainty. the more you talk, the softer and less infantile you seem - reo realizes that you actually do know a lot about worldwide humanitarian issues, a lot more than any other kid your age. he listens intently as you tell him about the things you like to do after school, about the many hobbies your parents put you on, and somehow, you manage to find a common ground. you talk and game and laugh for hours, until the night falls and your mum comes up to reo’s room to collect you. 

reo gives you a little wave goodbye, and from now on looks forward to your visits - for a while.

years pass by, and while reo manages to keep up his spot on top of his every class, all while meeting up with friends and traveling the world with his parents, you just seem… the same. yeah, you got smarter - a scholarship from the states being the best proof - and prettier, too, which reo is sure other boys notice as well. but you still have this little dreamy edge to you, your laugh all too high pitched and random at times, and you still blush profusely whenever a boy comes anywhere near. you’re still nice, but just not as fun to be around; you're different, than him and the other girls he knows and starts to surround himself with. it’s not your fault either, as reo figures it must be your parents keeping you away from all the opportunities - better or worse - that teenagery has to offer. you’re busy with the scholarship now, thinking of going on a student exchange to the usa, even, and while reo sees it as praiseworthy, you two just seem to lose the common language you once had. 

second year of highschool comes by, and you’re merely just a thought at the very back of reo’s head when he meets nagi. the two get along as if they’ve known each other their whole lives, even though seishiro needs a little (uh, maybe a bit bigger) push, and the friendship and newly found passion about football gets reo going. he doesn’t even see you around too often anymore, considering he’s barely at home after school, and even if he is, the time is spent on arguing with his parents. the only times he remembers about you is when you’re brought up by his father - a prime example of how one should take advantage of the privileges they were born into, instead of picking up a worthless dream. he knows you’ve got nothing to do with this, and yet still, the thought of you makes reo hurl.

reo doesn’t really miss you a lot during his time at blue lock - and he doesn’t think it’s anything harsh, considering you were barely good friends and only ever hung out when your parents did, and it was still long years ago, back before you two even properly hit puberty. there’s enough going on during the selections to keep his mind busy and muscles taut with stress - he doesn’t need any interruptions in getting to the top and so, the thought of you is pushed to the very back of his mind. it only ever changes the day of the u20 match, when the buzz of the blue lock’s team victory is still making his skin crawl and blood rush. he’s tired, his legs feel like jelly, and yet, he still makes out the familiar voice from the front row stands as he goes to leave to the locker room.

“reo!” he turns his head upon his name being called out, brows furrowed as he wipes the sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand. he recognizes the sing-song voice, but the memory is a bit blurry as violet eyes scan through the crowd and eventually fall upon the hand vigorously waving around - moving down, they lock with your bright orbs, a vibrant grin on your lips.

to say that he’s surprised to see you is an understatement - he takes a quick glance around you to check if you’re there with your parents, but he sees that you’re in fact alone. must’ve been your idea now, wasn’t it? reo jogs over to the barriers, and only after closing the distance between the two of you does he notice the changes in your appearance that must’ve happened over the past few months. 

he spots the way your features look way more mature now, and how you seem to finally have started to accentuate them with the right makeup. your skin still has the girly glow to it, though, or it might just be the wide smile on your face that’s lighting it up - either way, you definitely look even prettier than the last time reo has seen you, which must’ve been around his sixteenth birthday. 

“you won!” you exclaim happily, leaning against the barriers and reaching a hand out to high-five him once he’s in arms reach. he’s a bit hesitant, but only out of surprise.  “thought they would never bring you out,” you quip, watching reo roll his eyes. geez, thanks. “doesn’t your head hurt from that save?” your dainty fingers touch at reo’s reddened forehead, and it makes a foreign flutter wake in his chest. 

“not really,” he shrugs, letting you ruffle his hair slightly. were you really that touchy with him these few years ago, back when you were children? he can’t recall. “what’re you doing here anyway?” he rubs at his eye, the other one glancing up at you curiously. from his spot under the bleachers, he has just the perfect sight of your cleavage - and usually it wouldn’t affect him in any way, but to his surprise, his gaze is met with bare skin. reo has to swallow thickly upon the initial startle, eyes momentarily locked with the gold  necklace that he now remembers you wear even years ago - but this time, it rests right between the valley of your perky breasts, barely visible from the spot where your tits squeeze together. fuck - he knows that puberty can be a blessing sometimes. but could that really be the same you?

your voice brings him back to the present, gaze quickly tearing away from your chest, “i could finally see you play, reo! i never even heard you mention soccer,” you state, voice falling a bit near the end of the sentence. almost as if you regretted the way your friendship turned out. “do you still have the same number?” the question brings a hopeful tilt to your voice, and it makes reo smile a bit. there it is - the same awaiting, sweet sound.

“yeah,” he replies, looking up to lock his eyes with your doe ones. the clumpy, thick mascara on your lashes really does the trick, he thinks as he watches your lips stretch in a smile. “i don’t have my phone on me at blue lock, though - but we will catch up once i’m back, yeah?” now you were not the only one that has undergone a major change throughout the years, and while reo didn’t look all that different, there was definitely a shift in his personality. yeah, he was still real sweet with everyone, barely ever getting into any fights or arguments and staying on good terms with pretty much everybody. he always could have any girl he wanted - could pick and choose from tens of them at school, and then everywhere else he went - and yet, not even one of them grew suspicious of the way he is. not one of his previous girlfriends or the ones he only hung out with once or twice seemed aware of how his eyes naturally rested lower than on their face when they spoke. they only grew giddier at the way his hands would grope at the soft fat of their tits, their hips, squeezing at their bottom in a way that made their head spin - in a way they’ve already heard from their friends, who also got lucky enough to catch reo’s attention. maybe they were also just glad that it was finally their chance, and didn’t give his hungry touches any second thoughts? maybe they really did think that he was just like all the other horny teenagers, buzzing with hormones, and that his long days of practice only spurred him on even more.  sometimes, reo was surprised, even, at how quickly they would respond to his sly texts, a picture attached with no trace of shame. did they ever let the thought of him keeping these pictures linger, or were they really just this dumb?

the more recognition he gets thanks to the blue lock project and neo egoist league, the larger his range of possibilities grows. there’s girls flooding his dm’s, his name being thrown around different thirst tweets, and yet, it’s not like reo’s not used to it already. he's turned eighteen barely a few months before the blue lock project, and so he's already had plenty of time to finally let up all of this pent up tension. he meets up with a few girls during his breaks, spends the night, and is off early morning - with a pair of lace knickers in his back pocket, if he’s lucky (and the girl oblivious enough). some of them don’t even notice the flash going off as they ride him, their back to his face, taking just a little memoir to keep locked under a passworded folder in his gallery - something that he can play back in his mind, when he’s back at the blue lock facility, alone in the showers.

between his little hook ups, he still finds the time to keep his promise - and drives over to your house, which he is a little surprised to find with no sight of you the first time he comes by. “oh, she’s living on her own now! had to move closer to her university.” oh. "she'll be so happy to see you, though, reo! it's been ages since i've seen you, too." to say that he’s shocked by your mother’s words is an understatement - hell, you could even fly a private helicopter to uni each and every day if you only ever wished for it - so did your parents, always so overprotective, really let you move out and start living by yourself? nonetheless, reo is actually kind of content to be hanging out with you again. (the way you carry yourself, so soft and sweet as if your looks weren't enough to fill any guy's thoughts with pure filth, might just be the main reason.) he learns that you got into the university of tokyo on top of the acceptance list and are floored with not only work, but also the uni life that everyone else has been telling you about. ah. so that’s where the sudden change in looks came from, he realizes as you tell him about how happy you were that your best of friends managed to get in with you.

“she’s so cool! i think you would’ve liked her, reo,” you tease, a grin on your lips as you tell him about one of your friends and even go to show him her instagram pictures. he hums, “yeah, she's-" "if only she wasn’t into older guys.” you elbow him in the side with a giggle, and it makes him wonder how to wrap his head around the dissonance you’re giving him.

reo starts to feel less and less surprised with the way you turned out the more you tell him about the girls you befriended in high school, and then the ones you were hanging out with in your sorority house as well. you’ve always been kept in a bubble, as your parents’ greatest treasure - their sweetest little girl, as if you weren’t in your golden age to start experimenting with life and all it had to offer. it was honestly only a matter of time until you slipped away, the blinders your parents wore making them oblivious to your newly born adventurous nature. she’s not like that, he bet they’d say. have you seen her? she’s as innocent as they get! how the hell you managed to stay just that way, reo couldn’t figure out for the life of him. you’re wearing the skimpiest skirts he’s seen on a girl in a long time, your tits spilling out of your top, lashes curled to the heavens and yet, when you look at him, you have the same childish excitement in your doe-like eyes - and it feels as if you haven’t grown at all from when he first met you.

you were never really insufferably dumb to begin with, and reo knows that. your parents made sure you got the greatest education possible and you were a straight A student, keeping interest in many fields - starting from finances and economics, through arts and finishing at high tech. maybe that’s what makes it so appealing and easy to talk to you, spending long hours on bickering and discussing, even though your mind seems so, so much more innocent than his - hell, than any other girl’s your age, too. whenever he slips a dirty joke in the conversation, you frown slightly, a pout on your lips as if asking, what do you mean, reo?, and it doesn’t make any sense to him. yet again - how can that be possible, with the way all of your little friends are carrying themselves?

you start spending more time with each other, considering how close your condo is to the blue lock facility, and it becomes a little routine for him to come right over to your place whenever he gets a few days of break. you spend the time watching tv shows, stuffing your face full of snacks, going to the arcade and gossiping about reo’s teammates or whatever one of your girlfriends did since the last time you two have seen each other.

“m’so happy we’re friends now, reo,” you mumble one night, curled up to his side on the couch, nearly dozing off with some random action movie playing from the flat screen tv. “y’remind me of him so much, yanno?” 

ah, so there it is - the reason behind you always staying hooked to his arm. even though you were coming from a very similar background as him, reo was still a little more experienced in life - having seen more, thanks to the blue lock, among other things - and after all, he was a year older than you, wasn’t he? he carried himself with this confident, yet playful smile all of the time, and made everyone in his company feel warm - very much like your older brother did. thanks to him (or more like your stories about him), reo manages to get a good glimpse at how a sportsman’s life really looks like - how even though your family was so close, his visits happen thrice a year at most, and it leaves you missing him so bad, he even has to comfort you and wipe away your tears on one of your movie marathon nights.

sometimes, it seems like there’s two sides to him. one, that makes every girl’s knees buckle at just one glance; and the other, showcased by a bright grin and giddy behavior. either way, reo doesn’t really think of himself badly. it’s not like he’s doing any of it against the girls’ wishes, isn’t it? some would even consider it a good deed, even, he’s pretty sure, with the way he’s the very first one to be touching them that way, taking their innocence away. the only time he ever starts to feel guilt eating away at his insides is when the same filth spills all over his mind, clouding over his senses whenever you are around.

it’s been a year since the neo egoist league has ended - a year full of you, amongst soccer and other things that tore his mind and body down with exhaustion. movie nights, adventure parks, helping you study, going to frat parties with you, even - cause none of the girls are comin’, reo, please, just this once! - as if he really needed any convincing to come. some of the guys there were his high school friends, he realized, and so the thought of catching up with his old colleagues made the party even more appealing. (not to mention the tens of girls that would kill to have him lick the salt off their tummy, the tequila on his tongue bringing a bitter taste to their mouth as they kissed later - one of his favorite party activities, honestly, considering how hard it made him in his pants.) 

the first time it happens, reo’s by the makeshift bar, chatting up with a friend he used to sit with at chemistry lab as he pours them a drink - and his head lazily tilts to the side upon hearing your voice calling out to him.

“reo!” you sound as excited as always when addressing him, and he has to chuckle at the way you stumble over your own feet as you strut over to his spot by the bar. “reo, we’re- we’re playing beer pong. wanna team up w’me?” 

the amused laughter dies down in his throat as his eyes zero in on your cleavage, the fat of your tits jiggling with each step you hurriedly take towards him. he sees the slight sheen of sweat, watches the way it reflects the neon lights, how it accentuates the glitter of the body spray you put on right before you left the house. reo is glad he has his hand stuck in his pocket, cause now he can quickly fix his hardening dick without making it suspicious - he gives himself a slight squeeze and clears his throat as you approach him.

you smell of coconut, and the scent overwhelms his senses as soon as you press yourself up against him - a giggle leaving your mouth as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in to press a wet kiss to his cheek. “pretty, pretty please? y’know i’ve never ever played it, and if i lose it’ll make me a loser, won’t it now, reo,” you babble on, a laugh leaving your mouth as his friend gives your nose a flick. he must’ve told you something amusing, reo supposes, but the both of you are drowned out as blood thuds in his ears - as it throbs in his pants, cock aching by how ridiculously hard it got at the feeling of you pressed up against him. he feels your tits as they squish against his chest, feels the rumble of your laughter, the flutter of your lashes against his neck-

“‘xcuse me,” he mumbles, hurriedly, and pries your arms off - earning a surprised look from you (and a cute drunken stumble). making his way through the crowd, the smell of spilled liquor and sweat and mixed perfume makes his head even dizzier, to the point that he’s stumbling into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

one hand works on turning the lock while the other undoes the button of his plaid gray pants, a shaky groan slipping past his lips at the crumb of relieved tension. he dips a hand past the waistband of his boxers and pulls his throbbing cock out, thumb smearing the milky white pre-cum all around the reddened tip as he grabs onto the sink tightly for support.

“shit,” reo nearly whines at the image playing out in the very front of his mind. it’s almost like he can still inhale you, feel you as the heat of your body against his turns his legs to mush. he bites down on his lip, hard, in an attempt to quiet down the needy gasps that leave his mouth every so often, with every jerk of his hand. he tightens his grip on the porcelain, wrist flicking hurriedly and it makes him squeeze his eyes shut, strands of violet hair falling over his forehead as he groans quietly. please, pretty please, reo. it reverbs in his ears, but this time, it’s breathy, needy - as he imagines you giving him your prettiest wide eyes, tears sticking to your lashes, mascara running down your cheeks as he holds your thighs wide open, watching the way your pussy struggles to fit him in-

“ah- fuck, take it-” a mewl-like sound catches in his throat, toned abs spasming as white spills all over the bathroom sink. he struggles to catch his breath, hips needily thrusting into his hand as he rides out the high that leaves a loud ringing in his ears. throwing his head back, he groans softly as he feels the thick cum pool on his fingers, dripping down onto the pearly white porcelain - staining it with filth.

 it takes him a breather to finally flutter his eyes open, the bring white light stinging the bloodshot orbs - and he hums to himself, softly, a sigh following soon after as his shoulders relax. he lets go of the edge of the sink and instead turns the faucet on, cleaning his hands off any filth and patting any residue off his cock with a paper towel in relative silence. a random tune booms through the speakers outside, but the bathroom door do their job mellowing it out as he cleans after himself, taking his time to fully come down his high.

the realization only hits him when he’s finished zipping his pants back up and about to fix his hair, glancing up at the mirror - and sees the red tint on his cheeks and blood clinging to the torn skin of his bottom lip, glossy eyes staring right back at him.

maybe he is a bit fucked up, after all.

you wake up in your bed the next morning, a glass of water along with a tablet of aspirin left on your bedside table. loser :p, the note stuck right next to it says, and you honestly wish you remembered what the little joke is about. 

“this is so embarrassing,” you whine into your pillow a few hours later and reo chuckles under his breath at the way your legs kick out, body overcome with shame. “i can’t remember a thing! i don’t know what i was even doin’ most of the night,” you mumble, eyes almost teary as you pull your face away to give reo a discontented look. he hums softly, glancing over at you just for a split second before focusing back on the stocks on his phone screen.

“see, that’s why i told you not to drink this much.” he says matter-of-factly, “you’re lucky i was there. you never know who’s at the party with you, kiddo, so you need to stay aware at all times.”

now, reo has to admit that the sight of your eyes glazing over with tears, a subtle pout on your lips, shouldn’t be making him feel as hot as it does - and yet, he continues, and digs the hole underneath you even deeper. 

“there’s many bad guys around and you know it,” he mumbles, lilac eyes momentarily catching yours. you gulp and pull your knees up towards your chest for comfort, tears of shame tingling at your lashes. “you’re a smart girl, after all, yeah?”

were the things he said true? definitely - especially for such pretty and sweet girls like you, too good for your own good. but were you really in any danger last night, with him keeping an eye on you the whole time (except for his little… getaway)? not really - but seeing the anxious expression on your face was worth it. sometimes, it made reo feel like he should just grab you by the shoulders and tell you that you had to grow up eventually, for your own safety and comfort. but then again, he doubted it’d even work anyway, and besides, the adrenaline rush he experienced each and every time he instilled a crumb of fear in your heart was just too good to let pass.

it does feel good to have you cling to him even tighter, after all, he figures as you climb on his lap weeks later asyou two hang out in the evening. your hair blocks his view of the game he’s watching, but it only takes a little squirming for you to get fully comfortable and allow him the full look on the tv screen.

“who’s playing today?” you chime in, leaning forward to grab a handful of popcorn. reo’s voice catches in his throat, unable to help the way his eyes cast down, to where your ass is pressing firmly against his crotch and thighs. the waistband of your shorts sticks away from your flesh, allowing him to take a peek of the thin elastic of your thong - bright purple, just like his eyes. it makes him shudder.

“real madrid and barcelona,” he mumbles, clearing his throat and his hand almost flies down to cup his growing bulge in a weak attempt to hide it. the idea dies down in his mind as soon as he realizes your full attention is on the screen, soft hums leaving your mouth every so often along with little comments about the play. you’re absolutely oblivious to his cock prodding at your bum, hard on pressing right against the fat cheeks and aching. some would say it’s embarrassing how quickly reo could stand to full alert, but honestly… who wouldn’t, right? he shifts in his seat, an arm reaching to rest on the backrest of your sofa. he tries, really fucking struggles to keep his eyes on the screen as well, but your small sounds of excitement or frustration make it near impossible. you fidget slightly, 

“ah! it hit the pole,” you mumble, brows knit in focus and hands resting on top of reo’s knees, bare and bruised up from the hours of training. reo closes his eyes, deciding to try his luck - and he bucks his hips up, slowly, as to not scare you off his lap. instead, he’s met with silence - and he glances at you shortly, just to make sure.

he has just the perfect view of your back, skin smooth and glowy, and his hands itch to rest on the curve of your waist. experimentally, he places a hand on your side, and feels you shiver under his fingertips.

“your hands are cold,” you whine, but instead of pushing it off your bare skin, you do the thing he doesn’t even dare to dream of right now - you squirm. reo moves his other hand to his mouth, leaning back into the plush sofa as his hips do the very contrary and thrust up against you.

you don’t seem to acknowledge how uncomfortable the position generally is, how it should be for any other male friend whose lap would be occupied by you. instead, you lean forward slightly, hips rolling against reo’s crotch just slightly, and you sigh softly as you give his knees a gentle squeeze.

can you really be this oblivious? honestly, it’s hard to tell which thought makes him harden more - you just putting up a little facade and actually just teasing him by this point, or, which is more likely considering your sweet nature - you being truly, absolutely unaware of how your fidgeting was making his dick throb and ache. the sounds of the game are long forgotten, barely a haze in reo’s mind, as blood pumps in his ears and mouth salivates at both the sight and sensation on you almost bent over on his lap. he feels your dainty fingers tap against his knees mindlessly, or giving his flesh a gentle squeeze whenever you tense up in excitement over the match. he has to lean his head back, eyes closed and teeth nearly sinking into his hand as to not make a sound.

he rolls his hips up against your bum languidly, the friction sending sparks down his thighs, and it feels heavenly. he thinks of how your small hands will feel as they rest in the same exact place as now, but instead, they work as support when you lower yourself down on his cock. he wonders how you’d squeal if he grabbed at your ass, left his hand prints all over the soft flesh, setting a rhythm for you to ride him. for a second, it even occurs to him that maybe, just maybe, if he pushed himself to make a move, the little sleepover with your best friend really could end up with him splitting you open on his dick. 

reo hears his breath hitch in his throat, the familiar tension in his abdomen growing stronger, and it urges him to grind against you just a bit faster. upon realizing that you really are absolutely oblivious to how he’s using you to get off, it seems like most of his limits broke loose. (it’s not like anything would happen if you ever did find out, though, right?) his cock throbs and pulses against the thin gray boxers, pre-cum already sticking to the material and it feels fucking disgusting, but so good. he tips over his climax, eventually, hips stuttering beneath you and just as he feels the first spurt of cum soak into the soft cotton, you let out a gasp, and jolt in his lap. 

the sensation is enough to make reo’s eyes widen, a choked groan leaving his lips at the way your ass rubs down on him just perfectly, as if helping him ride his high out. his head feels airy as he listens to your little squeal of excitement mix with the sports announcer’s lively comments, the sound tuned out and barely a buzz in his ears. the sticky and thick cum pools in his boxers, and he wonders if you really cannot feel the obvious wetness through the material of his shorts.

you shift in your seat on his lap, ripping a groan from his throat at the way you press down against his overstimulated cock. turning around to give him a puzzled look upon the sound, the sight of your eyes wide and bright almost chokes reo up. 

“you okay?” you ask, a hand reaching towards his face to brush a strand of hair out of his eyes. you don’t seem to notice the way perspiration clings to his brows as you touch him.

he gives a nod, swallowing down the saliva that pooled in his mouth, before clearing his throat. 

“yeah,” he speaks, and he’s surprised how collected he sounds for someone who had just creamed his pants. his eyes follow the screen, watching the player’s goal from a minute ago replay and it’s actually a little silly how lucky he is to get such a good cover, in fact, as he watches the camera zoom in on his favorite club’s goalkeeper and his sour expression.  “just really want barca to win, s’all.” 

reo gives up on the hope of you finally growing more self-aware anytime soon when a few more months pass and yet, you still don't notice how your panties would disappear from the hamper or how reo has to excuse himself from the room when you're around - only to come back minutes later, eyes glossed over.

you're starting to make it hard for him not to make a move, and he's honestly stunned that he went so long without finally having his way with you. hell, he even brings you along to the small weekend trip he's came up with, just before the new u20 squad was to be announced. the blue lock team deserves some relaxation before the season starts, even if it is barely a few days, and you do too, considering you had just finished your finals (on top of your class as always). and so, he brings you with him and the rest of the guys and their partners - who at first ask how long you two have been together and then give a surprised look when you laugh, oh! oh no, reo's like a brother to me, really! (something about his longing looks and the way he'd grab your hips tells them different, but oh well, that's not any of their business, right?) the sight of you in all the skimpy bikinis, skin glowing with the tanning oil and cheeks kissed by the sun might just be the breaking point - or at least, one of them, the other being you, going on a date with one of his teammates, and getting your little heart broken.

the sight of you on his doorstep, head hung low and soft little sniffles sounding through the rain outside, is a shock indeed - and reo only has it in himself to coo softly as you stumble right into his arms.

"hey- hey, what's goin' on?" he tries to pull you back from his chest, but the grip you have on his waist is surprisingly strong. instead, he reached for the handle and clicks the door shut, hands moving to rub up and down your arms afterwards. "what happened, bunny?"

your shoulders tremble once, nimble fingers tightening on the material of his white tee. "don' wanna talk," you mumble, and reo wraps his arms around your shoulders, lips pressing to the crown of your head soothingly.

"okay," he mumbles, breathing in the all too familiar scent of your shampoo mixing with the sweet, sticky coconut of your perfume. it brings him back to the frat party months earlier - and makes heat pool in his stomach, even now, as you're sniveling against his broad chest. "i'll run you a bath, okay? you'll get sick."

you don't have it in you to refuse, and in a span of an hour, you're already curled up in the middle of reo's bed, wearing a spare pair of your joggers and one of his sweaters. there's two half-empty cups of ginger tea on the bedside table, and you lay on your side, knees hugged to your chest as you ramble.

reo stares at your face as you speak in a hushed tone, propping his head up on his hand, the other busy with rubbing small circles into your hip. he knows it's bad, god, he knows it's fucked up, but he feels his abdomen tighten at the sight of crystal tears sticking to your lash line.

"and then i said..." you take in a breath, bottom lip jutted out. "said that i- i don't want to do it anymore. that maybe we shouldn't after all, so he got annoyed and tried to change my mind, but-" you cut your rambling off at the silence you're met with, eyes glancing up to check on reo's expression.

he's always been an attentive listener, but this time, the silence almost sounds different. the boy hums, and tugs you a little closer to him. "shouldn't do what?" he inquires; and if it wasn't for the tears smudging your vision, you would've noticed the way he swallows thickly.

you feel your cheeks heat up and scrunch your nose, shaking your head. "you know what, reo," you mumble and he has to force back a sly smile. you're so shy, and now also slightly shaken still from what happened mere two or three hours ago. "i told you already.."

you trail off, the topic clearly bringing you discomfort and yet, reo doesn't drop it entirely. you've grown used to him being so thorough in your conversations, but this time, it makes you fidget slightly.

of course he knows. god of course he does, and the thing keeps him awake some nights, especially after he's scored a goal or two and he has to blow off some steam.

reo's well aware that you've never been with a guy. you've kissed a few of them, yeah, sure. you could've even made out with them, had their tongues down your throat - but you were still innocent, in more ways than one. you were drop dead gorgeous, and yet, the way you would be absolutely oblivious to other guys advance's still hadn't changed one bit since you were barely a young teen. maybe that's why you've never had a man grope you, please you, ruin you - make you stumble over your own feet the morning after.

he's wonders if you've even ever thought of it - if you ever desired to be played with.

"i know," he chuckles slightly and dips his hand under the hem of the thick sweater draped over your waist. a thumb starts to smooth tiny circles across your flesh, mimicking the gesture from seconds before. "i know, bunny. but i've told you already, didn't i, how there's plenty bad guys around." he points out, hand giving your waist a slight squeeze upon feeling you tense up. "why didn't you tell me that you were meetin' someone, hm?"

you can't stand the intensity of reo's violet eyes boring into yours, and so you only give a slight shrug and avert your gaze, "i dunno, reo. just wanted to try something new." you admit, the words now sour on your tongue and you know that this'll be the last time you ever try to go out of your comfort zone for a long, long time. "everyone already did it. i stick out." you grumble, expression soft even as you frown.

your words don't leave him undisturbed - in fact, the expression on reo's face doesn't give out any of the things he's thinking about. if it did, he's sure his eyes would turn black with greed, and he'd most probably drool over the thought of him being the one you turned to instead-

oh.

"why didn't you just ask me?" reo sits up slightly, the arm used to support his head up now straightened. you look up at him, hand itching to brush the hair out of his face - something you seem to always do whenever he has his hair down - but the intensity of his gaze leaves you flustered enough to back down.

"ask you?" you squeak out. it's cute how shocked you sound, reo thinks.

"yeah, why not?" his hand moves further up, warmth resting on your ribs now, just barely below the swell of your breast. you're not wearing any bra - of course you aren't. it's not like you've ever thought of being the slightest bit embarrassed in front of him - not like you've ever noticed how he had to fix his boner at the glimpse of your nipples perking through the shirt you would wear at one of your sleepovers.

the feeling is so unfamiliar, it makes your head dizzy. you and reo have always been touchy with each other - but it's because you were best friends, and it was your way of keeping close, so it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. but now, as he looks at you with such intensity and pushes on the topic that brings you so much embarrassment, the touch seems out of place.

"you know that your first time is really important, right? you'll compare all of your next boyfriends to this," reo hums, giving your flesh a light squeeze. "s'why you have to be real careful who you're pickin' to be your very first, doll." eventually, he pushes himself up straight, and it feels like the air around you has thinned and finally, you could breathe free again.

"still- wouldn't that be... weird, if i asked you to?" you prop yourself up on your elbows and you're surprised you even managed to force the words out. your heart hammers inside your chest, "we're best friends..." you mumble, and reo shrugs - nonchalantly, as if the ache in his boxers wasn't driving him crazy.

"that's what best friends are for," he points out and reaches a hand towards your ankle, fingers gently skimming along the delicate skin. it makes you shiver and fidget slightly as he massages along your calf. "it's nothin' weird. i could just help you out, so you know what you like and how to make a guy feel good, yeah?" you roll your head to the side, face burning. this sounds insane - reo, your sweetest best friend that almost feels like an older brother to you, telling you how he can be your first. what's worse, no matter how uncanny it feels, it surprisingly doesn't raise any objections in your mind.

you must be silent for a short while, because soon he drums his fingers against your knee. (you didn't even notice when his hand moved upwards, and how good it feels.)

"hey, we don't have to," not now, at least. but god, it's getting so exhausting to hold himself back. "but it would be easier for you that way, bunny.. you trust me, don't you?" your heart pulls in your chest at the words, teeth sinking into your bottom lip and reo almost feels sorry for how he's messing with your head.

but honestly, he's not even trying to - after all, he's just saying the truth. if only you gave him the green light, he could show you so much. he knows you better than anyone else, better than any guy out there ever will. he could make you feel things you didn't know were even possible, pull sounds from you that would make you blush with embarrassment. all he needs is just a chance.

the quiet rustling of the sheets brings him back from the train of thoughts and the sight of you, legs slightly spread in front of him, eyes glossed over and cheeks reddened, is enough to choke him up.

"f'course i do," there's a slight whimper to your voice, breath soft as your chest heaves. "s-so, reo, please..."

a grunt catches in his throat as he grabs your ankles, gently, and pulls you towards him - hands immediately moving to roam up your middle. goosebumps rise along your skin, back arching slightly, and you glance up as reo wraps your legs around his hips.

"will make you feel good," he promises, breathily, as he leans down. you can see how blown his pupils are - the pretty violet barely a halo around the black by now. he licks his lips, gaze darting towards yours, but goes to vocalize his question anyway. "can i?"

you would've answered, but the close proximity between you two and the way you can feel reo's soft breath his your mouth makes you act before you can think. you lean in, lips pressing against his in a chaste kiss, and carefully cup his face in your hands.

reo moans into your mouth, shameless, and brings one large palm to rest back on your hip to grab at the soft flesh. you're so sweet, so gentle - treating him with reserve still, but it feels heavenly anyway. just the way he always imagined.

his tongue slips into your mouth, a surprised little sound muffled against his mouth, as he deepens the kiss languidly. your head spins at the feeling of reo's warm tongue, sliding against yours and lapping lazily, fingers lacing together at the nape of his neck. you're pulling him closer, ankles locking behind his hips as he presses himself against you.

there's a bashful mewl slipping past your lips as you feel reo's hard cock rut against your clothed core.

"you're so pretty," he breathes into the kiss, breaking it as he pulls away just slightly, enough to look at you. "see? you're makin' me feel so good, bunny, and we're just kissin'." he grabs your hips with both of his hands now, moving them against his crotch.

the feeling reminds you of when you'd touch your little pussy yourself - late night, under the covers, when the tension and warmth in your tummy would just get too much. but never, ever would you ever think that someone else rubbing at your sweet spots could feel this good. your clit throbs against the cotton of your sweats, and it's almost as if reo feels it at the way he grinds your hips against his harder.

"reo-" you gasp, hand grabbing at his bicep 'cause it's starting to feel like too much. his hands are firm and heavy, holding you against him and handling you however he likes - however he seems fit. it's good, but you have a feeling that it might get even better.

"i know," he coos, chuckling at the way your eyes flutter when he pulls away. he gives your - well, his - sweater a tug, "take it off for me, doll."

you give a small nod and quickly work on taking the clothing off, the air cold against your heated skin. you shiver slightly, both from the change in temperature and the way reo looks at you.

he sighs shakily, hands moving to rest on your waist before slowly moving up and grab at your breasts. you lull your head back into the pillows, the feeling of reo's warmth palms making you shudder. it's new - you've never had anyone touch you like that, ever - and makes warmth pool in your abdomen.

"fuck," you hear him whisper under his breath as he massages at the plush of your tits - fingers experimentally giving a pinch to one of your nipples. you whimper at the feeling, jolting slightly, "fuck, feel how they fit right in my hands?" he flexes his fingers on the flesh for emphasis. "like they were made f'me." a soft groan leaves his mouth, before he leans down and wraps it around your areola.

your eyes widen slightly at the tickling sensation, reo's tongue warm and heavy against your hard nipple, and your back's arching off the mattress before you can register it.

there's a hand slipping past the waistband of your sweatpants, rough fingertips skimming against the skin of your abdomen, just right above your pussy. your hips stutter and chest heaves, making reo moan out at how you stuff his face full with your tits. you're so fucking needy, and you don't even seem to notice. your body acts on it's own, natural and by instinct upon feeling so much pleasure all at once, and it makes his head spin.

he gently dips a finger between your folds, drawing a little circle against your hole and his breath hitches in his throat at the way wetness oozes right out. he pulls away from your chest, a thick ribbon of saliva connecting his reddened lips with your nipple, and looks up at you.

there's one of your forearms resting over your eyes, lips fallen apart as soft little moans slip past. you only pull your arm away from your face when his hand pushes your pants down and doesn't return to it's previous place between your thighs - instead, he taps his fingers on your lips.

you look up at him, eyes tentative, as he breathes out, "lick them for me, baby. so it doesn't hurt."

he knows damn well that you're wet enough to manage a finger or two, even if it is your very first time taking something longer and thicker than your dainty fingers - but the sight of you obediently parting your lips, tongue lolling out to lap at his digits before softly suckling is worth the lie.

reo feels his cock throb as he watches you, intently, as you circle your tongue around his fingers and struggle to fit them in your mouth past his second knuckle.

"good girl," he croons and gives his hard on a firm squeeze through his sweats, just a little something to relieve the painful pulse. your eyelashes flutter momentarily, blood rushing to your cheeks, and he can't help but push his fingers deeper.

you choke slightly, eyes squeezing shut at the sudden intrusion as you feel saliva pool in your mouth and dribble past the corner of your mouth.

"open your eyes," you can barely hear reo speak over your quiet choking. "look at me."

you force your eyes back open, vision blurry with tears as you try to catch eye-contact. tears pool at your lash line as finally, he retracts his fingers from your mouth and pulls his hand away entirely, satisfied.

you sputter, gasping for air, and feel reo's other hand rest on your cheek. he wipes your tears away with a thumb, cups your face in his palm gently and sighs.

"see- that's what other boys would do if they saw you like that," he soothes, voice warm as usual and it brings contrast to his words. "s'why you have to be careful, bunny. don't want anyone to be rough with you, don't you?"

you shake your head quickly, throat still burning and scratchy as you look up. he really does look almost worried, with his eyes soft and focused on you entirely - but it almost seems like there's a haze behind the lilac.

you don't dwell on it too much, 'cause there's already a finger rubbing against your slit again, and this time it slips right in. the sensation isn't entirely new to you - you've played with yourself before, after all - but reo's fingers are so much thicker and longer than yours, feel so rough, and seem to press against your sweet spot almost instantly. you moan sweetly, hips bucking against his hands involuntarily as his fingertip rubs against the front of your pussy. it tightens around his finger, makes him dip it even deeper.

"right there?" he asks breathily, watching as your face contorts with pleasure, and it's enough of an answer. your tummy spasms slightly as you suck in a breath, hips starting to grind against his hand. there's another finger prodding at your entrance, teasingly, before slipping right in next to the other. "wanna see if you can handle two."

there's a slight stretch and burn as you try to accommodate to the girth of reo's fingers, much wider than anything you've ever played with and it is giving you a small struggle. you whimper and shift your hips, hand moving to push at his wrist instinctively.

"can't," you moan out, swallowing thickly as reo gives you a look - almost disappointed, yet intrigued at the same time.

"you've never had anything other than your fingers playing with this little pussy, didn't you?" it comes out as a slight groan, and you turn your head to the side to avoid his gaze. even as you act so sheepish, the slick that coats reo's fingers tell him enough - you're enjoying this.

you're getting off on listening to your best friend talk so sweetly about your pussy, playing with your body how he pleases.

you gulp heavily as you feel his weight shift on the bed, one arm resting across your abdomen and pinning you down firmly. and then, you feel a hot breath fan across your wet cunt, throbbing and creaming for attention, before he takes a long lick up your clit.

your hands grab at reo's hair, fingers tightening to tug and it vibrates against your pussy as he groans. "fuck," you whimper, and he chuckles breathlessly.

"watch your mouth," he muses, humored, before wrapping his lips around your throbbing little clit.

your eyes roll backwards, head pushing into the pillows and you have to bite back a cry at the overwhelming pleasure that seems to hit you all at once. it makes your muscles tremble and head spin how reo seems to work the same exact spot with both his fingers, massaging and thrusting inside, and his tongue, messily and hungrily slurping away. your hips stutter, but don't lift off the bed whatsoever as he keeps them stuck to the mattress with his arm, whining against your heat.

"you can- you can tug," he breathes, purple eyes glancing up at you as he knows exactly what you'll do - give him a little puzzled look, as if to ask you sure, reo? - and moans as his gaze meets yours. you look entirely fucked out already, spit wet on your lips and face pink, eyes wide and needy. he wonders if he looks just as filthy right now, hips rutting into the sheets and soaking his sweats with pre-cum and with his face stuffed in your pussy, devouring you as if he was starved.

he just might be, after years of trying to control himself.

he feels your fingers give a sharp pull at his hair, then push his mouth right back against you until his nose nudges against your groomed mound. it starts to get hard to breathe, he realizes, but you taste just to sweet - almost like honey, thick and sticky on his tongue as he suckles and licks and nibbles, soft little hums and whines buzzing against your twitching pussy.

you feel your back nearly stick to the sheets, thighs trembling against his head as you feel the strange sensation creep up - your muscles tense up as reo's hand presses on your lower abdomen, firmly, a breathy sigh hot on your clit. your eyes widen slightly and you jolt,

"aah- stop- reo, stop," you babble, tongue heavy in your mouth and head hazy from pleasure, but you have to go. embarrassment is dense on your mind as you push at his head, breath picking up and hips bucking up involuntarily. "please, please reo, it feels - ngh- feels funny." you don't realize there's big, fat tears running down your temples now, clear streaks streaming down the heated skin as your voice cracks.

why isn't he stopping?

you choke back a sob, the pleasure white hot in your veins as he groans and pulls back just slightly, enough to speak, "fuck, cum for me. cum on my face, baby." he sounds desperate - looks just the same, too, as you glance at him and the way he works his fingers in and out of your tight heat, fluttering and tightening. big, needy eyes stare up at you, bangs held back by your hand as your fingers pull at the hair, and he lolls his tongue out, grinding it against your clit messily.

you throw your head back, eyes unfocused, as it hits you like a heavy rainfall. the pleasure comes in waves, muscles taut and shaking as your back arches and quiet little cries slip out of your mouth - almost like a chant, and nothing like the sounds all of the other girls made, reo realizes. you sound so, so much prettier. perfect and sweet as you grind against his hungry mouth, cream oozing onto his tongue and juices spilling on his chin. he nearly whimpers, hips rolling against the bed and it takes all of his self restraint not to cum in his pants, too, at the sight of you trembling in his grasp.

the pleasure leaves your limbs warm and fuzzy, a soft buzz in your ears as your climax slowly dies down - but you realize that reo doesn't let up, fingers now having dropped their pace, but tongue still flicking against your oversensitive heat. you whine, swallowing back tears and pulling his mouth away, tugging at the roots of violet hair.

"reo," you sound broken enough, he thinks, and so he gives your clit a last kiss, the smack sounding so obscene it makes you close your eyes in shame. he eases his fingers out of you and gives the inside of your thigh a little peck as well before sitting back on his heels, breathing heavy as he takes you in.

you struggle to catch your breath properly, hair sticking to wet cheeks as you swallow thickly and grab at the sheets - as if you wanted to tug them over your body, cover yourself from his stare and the realization that sits heavy on your mind. reo sighs, nearly dreamily, and sucks your juices right off his fingers as you watch - too exhausted to show any sign of shame.

"m'gonna have you ride my face next time, okay?" he breathes out, giving your hip a squeeze - and before you let his words settle in, you're already nodding along, a soft little whimper leaving your mouth in agreement. it makes his cock jump in his boxers, the way you're so compliant and don't seem to realize the weight of his words.

if only he had known you'd be so easy to convince, he would've made a move a long time ago already, reo thinks to himself as he pulls you up for a kiss. grabbing your wrist to push your hand behind the waistband of his boxers, he drinks up the little moans that slip out your mouth, needy and sweet, nearly enough to make his teeth rot.

reo is so content he's met you, even if it took him long years to realize that your innocence and purity are actually the very thing he needs and wants.

and yeah, you're still different than the other girls - but you're just as oblivious with the way you don't notice his phone propped up on the nightstand.

reblogs are greatly appreciated ! :)

© itoshi-s. do not plagiarize, repost as your own or mention on other sm platforms.

[circeyoru]

Unwanted Soul _ Part 2 = Requested

[Yandere!Alastor x Owner of his Soul!Reader]

The Request

Part 1 — Part 2 (here) — Part 2.5 (ask) — Part 3 — Part 4 — Part 5

You were supposed to wish for Alastor’s defeat, supposed to revel in Alastor’s humiliation. But no, the last moment, when it came down to it, you appeared before the first man and leader of the exterminations out of a tornado of blank pages. You stared down at Adam while Alastor recovered behind you, ears pinned

As much as Alastor’s devotion and twisted love disgusted and caused you to constantly shiver from, you didn’t exactly see an issue since he wasn’t directly harming you or making your life unbearing to the point of wanting to off yourself like the times in your life above. You’d never admit, but you liked having Alastor around and the fact that you have his soul now, made you even more willing to keep him around

Pages flew around you while you held your opened notebook in one hand while your dominate hand held onto your quill. You have always loved the way the feather moves whenever you write. While Adam taunted Alastor for being protected by someone insignificant, you scribbed over the blank page and summoned your angelic weapons, firing it mercily at Adam without stopping

Rare rage of Adam harming Alastor and fear of Alastor’s disappearance became your drive to act. You wouldn’t have acted if it weren’t for the fact that Alastor, an Overlord and The Radio Demon, was willing to spend so long with little ol’ you and even go as far as to give you his soul

You couldn’t just stand idly by while Alastor was going to actually die by your orders. Sure you like the idea of redemption for demons, but you aren’t going to do it yourself, nor will you let what’s considered yours to be taken away by something you hardly care for

“Oh, my dear, how I’d love to be at least standing side by side with your love for that hobby you consume yourself with.” Alastor had once said, long long before he gave you his soul “As if that could happen.” You had once said aloud, thinking in your heart that you’d die before ever letting a physical person or sinner this close to you again. “You can keep dreaming.” “In my dreams, we are something much more, darling.” Alastor cooed close to you, putting down one of your favourite dishes you hardly have the time or energy to buy or make yourself. His grin grew as you inspected it before delightfully partaking in it with a hum of satisfaction. “I do think I can make it into a reality. Just give me some time.” You glare back at him, turning away from him with your food in hand. Your face heated up a bit, as did the tip of your ears. You’d never admit to him, he has a way with words, and sometimes your heartstrings

Out of your blinded rage and fear, as well as your sudden adrenaline, you failed to keep track of the pages used for your conjuring until you were trying to rip the hardcover of your notebook. You paused, as did your attack on Adam

As if karma was playing a hand to laugh in your face, Adam attacked you head on in your moment of disbelief and shock. Having your powers and energy exhausted, you took the hit head on. A deep gash appearing from one shoulder blade diagonally down to your side, you dropped your notebook cover and quill as you fell to your knees, spatting out blood

“I’m ending this broadcast!” Alastor roared as he traveled through the shadows to you, his shadow grabbing your abandoned belongings before he brought you to safety. The taunting laugh of Adam ringing in your ears as darkness swallowed you up while warmth covered a side of you

You didn’t know where you were, but you were positive Alastor was bringing you to safety even when he himself was in a bad shape. You let yourself hang limb in his arms, feeling more and more tired. You once told him you like having a relationship like Ciel and Sebastian’s but a bit different, you can imagine that’s why Alastor was acting the way he was afterwards

When you told him you’re fine and just a bit tired. He held back snapping at you, his hold on you even tighter. He wants you healed, he needs you healed. You can’t leave him. You just can’t. Why were you there in the first place, he would have been able to deal with it and proved to you he was strong. Can’t you see he was willing to do anything to return back to your side?

Red doesn’t suit you. No. You were much lovelier in the comforts of your home, where you were safe and happy with that entertainment you love. He was content with just being by your side and being the only one you interact with. He found you and you found him. It was as simple as that, it was going to be you and him

When Alastor made it back to his radio tower, though destroyed and sat at the bottom of a hill, he leaned you against his chest, holding you with one arm while his other searched through his drawers. Finally taking out a few pages with one word on them. They were all gifts from you to him should be be injured, he was glad he never had to use it

He placed the pages over your wound and watched as they faded out and turned to sparks, the majority of the wound slowly disappeared with time and he covered you with his coat. When you were healed, he hugged you close, too tight as you’d whisper to him

Yet he didn’t loosen his grip on you. Your eyes opened, albeit still droopy from the lack of energy and immense tiredness all over your system. You raised a hand and patted the back of his head, you hummed softly, just as you did before when he was being healed for his wounds

“I’m not leaving you, darling. Never.” Alastor spoke as his body shook, you barely registered his words as your eyes threatened to close. “If you threaten to destroy my soul, I’ll lock you in my staff and keep you there with me. I’m not losing you, dear Pager. I won’t allow it.”

You somewhat nodded, Alastor had always been overly protective and obsessive with your health, wellbeing, and mostly safety. He’d say the darkest things he’d do to you to get you shaking, you’re used to it, it was his way of caring. As pitiful and sad as it is, no one had care like this for you

Your eyes closed as you gave him his order, “Alastor, I’m removing that no seeing me rule.” You muttered, positive he heard every word even with the lack of responses. “You know, I’ve missed your cooking. Your presence in my apartment. I’ve missed you.”

You remember a tightening hug before you fell into a deep slumber

“Darling. You’re unusually free today.” Alastor remarked as his eyes follow you strolling back and front the living room to the hallway where your bedroom and other rooms were.  “Yeah, well, I watched and read all I wanted.” You complained, “Now I’m just walking around to remember if I missed anything.” You paused in your pacing and went over to Alastor’s side. “What are you making this time?” “Some cookies, dear, you said you have been craving some and the shops were out of them. So why not make some instead?” Alastor laughed as he continued to mix the mixture till it was well done. You glanced to the baking book in front of him, then back at his smiling face that you had grown accustom to already. Even that grin smile that scared the living daylights out of you, especially when he was waking you up from your sleep. “But I can’t finish this much.” “You can merely throw it in the trash, my dear.” Alastor stated easily. “But you’re making it with so much care.” You looked down at the dough that had formed, ignoring the way Alastor was staring at you. Your shorter height was definitely an advantage here. “I don’t want to throw away something you made with your time and energy. Considering your cooking, I think your baking would be nice too.” Alastor laughed, wrapping a hand around you to pull you close. You had flinched, but then relaxed a bit. “Dearest dear, your praise is too much. However, if you can’t finish it, there’s no use in keep them when they turn bad.” “Then we can share it with the neighbo—” “My doe.” You heard the static grew, feeling Alastor’s grip on you tightened but not enough to give you a bruise or a wound. “This treat is made for you and not for those sickening souls. I rather burn them to ash than let another taste these.” You sighed, somewhat expecting this already. “Why not compromise? You dislike sweets and I dislike that deer meat, uh.. Venison? That you love. I’ll try your dish and you eat these cookies with me. Sounds fair?” Seeing Alastor eying you with narrowed eyes, you rolled your eyes and shrugged off the loosen hold, “I’ll also make the cookies with you, since I got nothing to do at the moment.” That seemed to spark something in Alastor as his smile turned genuine. “Now how can I refuse such an attractive offer.” You looked away, pushing down that bubbly feeling as you kept a straight face while you spoke softly, “If you left me like you would when you’re already healed.” At that, Alastor took your hands in his, bringing you to the living room as his shadows shifting away any furniture in the way and twirled you around. A sudden darker toned soundtrack playing, presumably from his staff with a microphone on top. His silence to your comment was unusual, usually he’d be laughing it off or denying it. Now he was just being unusually quiet. The dark track that was play wasn’t helping the way you felt unnerved and a bit chilly. His twirling and dancing changed to a slow sway as the music transition to that of a classical piece. Finally, he spoke, “My darling Pager. If I give you my soul, will you believe in my devotion and love for you?” Your head snapped up from looking at his chest, you wanted to shout at him for suggesting such a thing, but your shock was grounded when you saw the smile on Alastor’s face. By now you had known, even while he’s smiling, he wasn’t always ‘happy’ or in power. It was like a mask for him, a mask you’d see through. You looked away, having tried to get out of his grip but he held you with an iron grip. “Don’t joke about that. Soon, you’ll be back out, doing your Overlord things and being the feared Radio Demon like you love.” “And leave a precious soul like you behind with no one to care for? Never, my dear. Perhaps in your nightmares.”

When the hotel was newly rebuilt, Alastor had his appearance, holding tightly on his staff that contained you from inside. He didn’t let anyone near his staff and by extension, you. He kept up appearance even though Charlie and a few others were asking what transpired on the hotel roof when he was battling Adam. They saw your powers, but at least they didn’t see you

“A little magic trick to confuse that rascal angel. It seems I underestimate the man.” Alastor answered, shocking others that he admitted to his fault. Especially Husk who was suspicious of his change in attitude. “Now, may I pick my room? I would love to redecorate, if that’s alright with you.”

Charlie nodded along, telling Alastor of his new radio tower as well. He ignored how it was opposite to Lucifer’s but there was more pressing matters. He took up another room nearby, that would be yours, and reconstructed your bedroom down to the letter. When everything was done, he laid you down on the bed, still asleep

Alastor would read to you while you were still in your slumber, when he takes a pause from his reading, he’d check your wound to see if you were healing and not dying. When he wasn’t in the room, he’d leave behind his shadow and staff to play those anime you love so much. As much as he wanted to play with your unique technological devices, he had no idea who to operate them and he didn’t want to mess up your stuff

While this wasn’t new, you sleeping for longer periods of time to heal and replenish your energy due to over-exhausting your powers, this was the first time you were heavily wounded and by holy powers no less. He doesn’t know what to do and he wasn’t going to risk others knowing he had someone sleeping in a spare room that he took up

“Wow. So this is who you’ve been talking too. No wonder you were more talkative than usual.” Lucifer stood over your slumbering form with his hands behind his back. Alastor immediately had his black tentacles pushing Lucifer away from you and at a wall farthest from you as he summoned a barrier around you. “Protective too!” Lucifer remarked, unaffected by the situation. “Should have known our dear Page Demon here is more capable of gaining allies.” “Get out.” Alastor growled a warning “I bet you don’t know how to wake sleeping beauty up.” Lucifer taunted, “I mean, this slumber and your pathetic desperate self is amusing and all, but I can’t let the Page Demon die.” Alastor’s mind was racing. Die? You were dying? But the wound was, is, healing. You were looking better and better with ecah day. He didn’t even feel his bond with you weakening. “What do you mean?” Lucifer shrugged off the tentacles and pushed them away, twirling his staff before planting it in front of him and leaning against it, “Our dear Page Demon here was once my informant, you know? Got a lot of secrets and knowledge you can never imagine, but I respect the quitting and gave a wonderful apartment and money so there’s a comfortable life, see?”

That’s how you were never worried about money or the fact that your apartment was the only one this big and well off, compared to the others around your place. Not to mention you were in such a secluded spot in the Pride Ring that not many demons knew who he was nor do they care. You were even more showy with your powers to conjure angelic weapons too

The King of Hell gave Alastor the hint to drown you in knowledge so you could soak up energy, you were a unique one, the both of them agreed. But at this point, Alastor was willing to try anything to save you from death and leaving him

What the two did was this. Build a barrier around the bed, making it like a tank, then they worn out pages from various books and documents. The finale was dumping them all over you like a heavy blanket. You were literally drowning in pages now. It would be ridiculous to anyone that walked in on this

“Okay, now all we need is blood.” Lucifer nodded at the handy work. “You want to be the one to do it or…” “Ha! Is that still a question?” Alastor glared at Lucifer’s suggestion “Well, I mean. If Page Demon here takes my blood, there’s gonna be immunity built up. But, your call I guess.”

In the end, both of them dripped blood onto the countless pages around you. It was almost like a breathtaking art piece to admire. According to Lucifer, it’ll take a while. As for how he knew about this method, he was informed about it from you it seems

While Alastor was offended that you didn’t tell him, he understood that it was because you have yet to meet them then. Even so, he can’t deny that you still had your guard up around him even after he gave you his soul to command. It was that element of a duel personality you had that intrigued him

You were lazy and simplistic, yes. You have a mundane life that will bore him to death yet you hate bored yourself. Then there was your keen and observant self, like a flip side of you, or a darker side of you. Though it was rare for him to see, you were very possessive of your belongings and would rather destroy them yourself than have someone else take it from you. There was so much contradictory in your case that interested him so, too much that he fallen too badly for you

He knew the present you to a T. But he never knew the you before him, your history was something you kept close to yourself. Even more so when it came to your human life. All he know was that you were extremely against forming connections with people and that was a knowledge he loved learning about. Only when it was applied on others and not him

Still, he didn’t care. It was you that saved him and given him what he lacked. He wished the two of you met earlier, then again, he might have tried to take you as one of the many souls under him or taken you to torture for his broadcast. So he was fine with the way things were

“Darling…” Alastor’s breath was caught by an invisible force, he felt himself frozen on the spot while the door closed behind him “Alastor.” You spoke, though your speech a bit slurred and your glaze was a bit jumpy and fuzzy, you were awake. “This looks like my room, but I’m positive it’s not.”

No words were exchanged as Alastor lunged at you, hugging onto you so tightly. Your eyes widened, barely having the time to catch his form while the pages flew all over the place from his actions. This scene was familiar, he was hugging you this tightly before you entered your slumber mode. You hugged him back, ignoring the way your face was in his chest

Time stilled and so did the two of you. While Alastor was hugging the living daylights out of you, your memories replayed itself, as did your realization to your feelings for the red demon. You came to terms with it, you really did. How ironic when you were the one judging the characters in the stories you read and watch

“Alastor, I’m back.”

“Welcome back, my dearest love.”

Note: Wa la~ Done! Hope it is to your liking guys! I added a bit of other moments and extra end, cause just the battle scene was not enough and there was more to write! (I'm too lazy to separately post them, there's that)

Circe Y.

Other Works: MASTERLIST

Taglist:

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@nevermore-ramblings

@justboredforreal

@youroneandonlysimp

@crazyworldofstories

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@donustellaron

[a-writer]

Dancing around - Azriel x reader

I'll never get over the fact that Nesta and Az danced together in Hewn City which means that it is canon that Az actually knows how to dance so... here goes nothing:) Also took some things from scenes in ACOSF and changed it up a bit!:) enjoy<3

Warnings: no actual smut but a lot of smutty talking and thoughts.

"You don't have to do anything you don't wish to. But Elain mentioned that you have particular skill on the dance floor. Skill that once won you the hand of a duke in a single waltz." Rhys said as his eyes fixed upon Nesta.

Yes, sending her to dance with Eris was risky. But they didn't really have more options right now. Cassian wasn't looking too happy about that.

"Over my dead fucking body" He exploded. "Why can't (Y/N) do it?! She's a good fucking dancer, that's for sure."

"Thanks for the compliment, Cass." You smiled at him, his eyes full of hope for you to take his side. "But I'm with Rhys on this one. If I thought it was going to work I would do it, trust me... But Eris has known me for years, he knows I despise him. He's not going to buy the act and you know it. Plus, it will be fun to see Nesta toying with him." You gave her a wink while Cassian groaned.

"You want me to dance with Eris?" Nesta looked at you, but it was Rhys who answered.

"I want you to seduce him. Not into bed, but to make him realize what he might attain once he understands that we have no plans to break this alliance. To weigh the benefits more strongly than the risks."

"I'm sure you will do just fine, Nesta. I can show you all the dances so that you'll be prepared." You looked at her with bright eyes. Dancing lessons, always so fun.

"Nesta hasn't agreed to anything." Cassian snapped. "Even one dance with that prick is too much-"

"I'll do it." Nesta cut in, looking at you.

"Good" You smirked at her. "We start tomorrow."

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

The Winter Solstice celebration was in full swing, people drinking and dancing to the beautiful music. With Rhysand and Feyre in the throne, you were sandwiched between Cassian and Azriel, the former glaring daggers at Eris' back while he danced with Nesta and the latter monitoring everything, his left wing resting lightly on your back.

"Fuck." Cassian growled. "I can't stand and watch this." He stormed off towards Mor, who was hiding behind a pillar on the other side of the throne.

"How long do you think will take them to realize?" A slow smile crept on your lips as you looked at Az.

"Realize what, Azriel?" Your innocent eyes met his cold stare. Everyone knew that they were mates. Everyone but Cassian and Nesta, apparently. And Eris, luckily.

"You look beautiful, (Y/N)." The sudden change of subject almost gave you whiplash. "As always."

His eyes roamed down your body, covered in a Night Court black dress that hugged every curve of your body. A small strip went around your neck and back, securing two pieces of fabric covering your breasts diagonally, forming a triangle that showed the tan skin of your torso, from the middle of your breasts until the top of your navel. A tight skirt was attached to it and your back was left exposed, your hair tied up in a tight ponytail that flowed down to the top of your ass. It seemed like time had stopped while Azriel's eyes covered your entire body. Finally returning to your face, his stare found your eyes and suddenly you felt a blush staining your cheeks.

"Uh..." You coughed, trying not to think too much about that stare. "Thanks, Az. You cleaned up nice, too." Winking at him, you turned to look straight once again.

Cleaning up nice wasn't enough to describe him. Az was... Az. His eyes, his body, his hair... All of him made you think the dirtiest thoughts ever. Like how his lips would feel against your skin, how having him look at you with that intensity in his eyes would feel while he was moving inside of you- Stop.

You needed to stop. You coughed again and felt Azriel looking at you again, a smirk covering his lips. Okey, maybe your smell had given away what your thoughts had been about, but he didn't know that you were thinking about him, did he?

Before you could overreact, he leaned towards you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You could feel goosebumps erupt all over your skin as he whispered. "Would you like to dance with me?"

You turned, your faces so close that your noses were almost touching, and you could see the amusement glinting in his eyes. Without breaking the eye contact, he lifted a hand in between your bodies and you took it, trying to calm the rapid beating of your heart.

"Sure, Az." Your voice was higher than you'd intended, but still you plastered a cool smile on your face and lead the way to the dance floor.

A new song began just as you were settling down in a circle of couples. You could spy a glint of red hair on your peripheral vision, and you knew that Eris and Nesta were still going. Good. She seemed like she was having fun, after all.

The music began and both of you bowed, presenting yourselves to one another. He offered one of his hands and you gladly took it, taking one step closer to him. His other hand snaked across your waist and settled on your back. It was cold compared to your burning skin, and you could feel a shiver running up your back. Trying to suppress it, you forced yourself to look up at Azriel, a small sigh leaving your lips.

He was handsome, beautiful. The kind of person who turned heads wherever he went. A small pang of jealousy filled your chest at that thought and you shoved it down. It was ridiculous. You and Az were nothing, even though your chemistry was something else, that was for sure.

Azriel began moving, leading both of you graciously across the dance floor.

"I'm always surprised to see how good of a dancer you are." You were looking at his shoulder, trying to calm down the raging fire burning your insides.

"You'll be surprised to know how good I am at many things, (Y/N)." You could feel his smile as he said the words, and it was clear that he was aware of your body. Of the goosebumps, of your galloping heart and of the sweet, imperceptible to everyone but him smell of your arousal.

You tilted your head back, looking him in the eye, and the color stained your cheeks as you already found him looking at you. And then you felt it too. His slightly dilated pupils, his tongue swipping on his bottom lip and... His smell. It was just a slight change, you wouldn't even have noticed it if it weren't for the way he was looking at you. But there it was. Something muskier, rougher. Darker.

"You could show me, you know." The words left your mouth before you could stop them.

You were always teasing Azriel, making jokes, giving him shit for always being so mysterious. But this felt different. It seemed like the whole room vanished and you were the only ones dancing around. His hand tightened on our back, bringing your body impossibly closer to him. You could feel his heart through your own chest, and a knowing smirk creeped over your face as you realized that it was beating as fast as yours. Azriel leaned once more, his mouth caressing your ear.

"I've been waiting to show you for a long, long time, (Y/N)." His voice was deeper, and you had a hard time suppressing a moan.

He moved away and you almost whined until you realized that the dance was over. You were about to grab his hand again and demand to know more about what he just said when Cassian appeared.

"Az, I need you to go dance with Nesta, please." He signaled with his head towards the throne. "Eris is talking with Rhys and I need to know what's going on."

"Sure, brother."

Cassian sprinted towards Mor once more and you were observing your High Lord and High Lady. Rhys wore a cool smile, just like Feyre, but you could sense the worry in her eyes. You didn't even see Azriel moving until the front of his body was flushed against your back, his hands possessively gripping your hips.

"Tonight is the night I'll show you everything that I'm good at." He lowered his head, pressing a quick kiss just below your ear. "And I'll show you everything I've been dying to do to you."

Your eyes almost rolled back into your head and you were about to become jelly in his hands, but you managed to turn around quickly, grabbing one of his hands before he could slip away.

"Make it a promise, Shadowsinger."

Azriel smiled and winked at you, before he went to find Nesta as the next dance began.

[knapptapp]

Elevator- JamesPotter x GN!Reader

WC: 950

You are stuck in a muggle elevator with James Potter, Who wont stop flirting with you

Tags: Fluff, angst(?), Sarcastic reader, Slytherin reader, Flirty James Potter, Insecure reader

A/N: Wrote this from a prompt, trying to dip my toes into the Marauders fandom not a fully fleshed out fic or anything. A little experiment

“This might be a bad time to mention it, but I really like your perfume.”

“Oh shut up,” You said with a scowl as you once again pushed the emergency button.

Professor Corbyn had thought it a wonderful idea to assign the seventh year class a lengthy list of ‘muggle activities’ to complete. She had also thought up the brillant of idea of assigning partners randomly. Though you had your doubts about the “randomness”.

Still, it was a project worth a good chunk of your grade. As much as you wanted to, you couldn't blow it off. Which is how you ended up stuck in an elevator with James fucking Potter. James who thought your perfume was of utmost importance at the moment.

“No seriously, it's quite lovely.”

You ignored him and pressed the call button. A moment passed…..Nothing. Great, not even the phone was working.

“Where did you get it? From Diagon alley or-”

“Can you be useful for once?” You interrupted.

James pushed himself away from the wall he had been leaning on, “Can you apparate?”

“No.” You admitted begrudgingly. Getting your license was on your to do list, there just hadn't been enough time. You were really starting to regret not putting it up higher on your list. You fanned yourself with your hand.

“Someone will come for us eventually.” James said with a shrug. He seemed completely care free and not at all worried about the situation at hand.

“Yeah. If we don't die from heatstroke before then.” You settled against the wall opposite of him and slid down till you were seated. It was just a tad bit cooler down on the floor.

“I know how you could cool off.” James said with a smirk. Just in case you hadn't understood his comment, he lifted just the hem of his shirt to reveal a sliver of tanned skin. You quickly looked away, but not before you caught a glimpse of a dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the waistband of his jeans.

“Oh fuck off.”

James copied you and slid down to the floor. Instead of sitting with his legs tucked up to his chest like yours, he instead stretched them all the way out. The elevator was tiny and James’ legs were long, the sides of his red converse knocked against your thighs. Cloth shopping had been another part of the project.

“Have I told you your shoes are ugly?”

“Many times,” James responded unphased, “You just don't like them because they're red.”

“Horrible color.”

“I think you'd look really nice in red. Got one shade specifically in mind actually.”

“Yeah, no” You fidgeted with the fraying sleeve of your dark green jumper. House pride was taken very seriously in Hogwarts. Wearing gryffindor red was an act of betrayal.

“You would,” He insisted, “I even have a jumper that would look perfect on you! Says ‘Potter’ right across the back.”

“Careful now James, I might think you're hitting on me.”

“Did it take you this long to notice?”

You knocked his foot away with your palm. James allowed it before he returned it back to tapping against your thigh. He was such a tease. He had been on this since you two got assigned partners.

“Ha Ha very funny,” You replied dryly.

He tapped his foot rhythmically against your leg, you tried your best to ignore it. The elevator was completely silent. The music had cut off when the elevator had come to a sudden stop with a metallic screech. There was nothing but the sounds of James and your breathing.

Your whole body was on edge. You couldn't help but keep anticipating the worst. Any movement made you feel like the elevator would go crashing to the ground below, You were stuck on the seventh floor and you had heard one to many horror stories.

“I'm bored,” James said, “We should do something.”

“Like what?”

“Why don't we play a game of truth or dare?” suggested James.

“Truth or dare? Seriously?”

“What else do you have in mind?” he replied smugly.

“Fine, let's play.” you agreed reluctantly.

“Okay, I'll start. Truth or dare?” James challenged.

You sat for a moment, mulling over your choices. There weren't many dare options while stuck in an elevator, but everyone and their mothers knew James Potter was a master prankster. He could probably come up with something within a second. Hell, he probably already had fifty dares planned out. Better to play it safe then.

“Truth.”

“Okay..” James pretended to think for a moment, he stroked his chin and gazed up at the roof dramatically, “Why don't you like me?”

Oh. Straight into it. You looked away from him uncomfortably. The thing was, you didn't not like him. Honestly, it was the opposite. But you couldn't let him know that. You would never hear the end of it.

“I don't not like you…You're just loud…” You said carefully.

“I think i’m quite charming honestly,” James smirked.

“Yeah, you think that.” You said with an eye roll

“You don't think I am?” James tilted his head to the side, one loose curl fell in front of his eyes. God damn it. Yes, you wanted to say. I've thought that you are charming since fourth year. But of course, you don't say any of it.

“Not at all.”

“You're forgetting the rules of the game again.” He teased. He leaned forward, only a couple inches closer than before, but still all too close.

“I’m not lying.” You attempted to sound confident and self assured but you couldn't manage to bring your voice above a whisper.

The gods must have heard your prayers because the phone on the wall rang. James and you stared at each other for a moment. He finally pulled his eyes away from you and stood up to answer the phone. You and your feelings were safe for another day.

[the--rebel--fae]

ME ME FIRST IM FIRST PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE ALASTOR X FEM READER WHO LIKE A HOUSEWIFE IN THE HOTEL AND TAKES CARE OF NIFTTY AND CHARLE AS IF THEY WERE HER AND ALASTOR CHILDREN

A/N: You my friend, caught my attention first because of such an adorable response. So ask and ye shall receive! Here's hoping I do Alastor justice.

(This is an adorable request btw)

Pairing: Alastor x Fem! Reader

Tw: None! Just pure fluff!

Word count: 745

The Hazbin Bunch

Ever since you came to the Habin Hotel, it felt like everyone was a little family. You were an older demon, having died back in the forties. So you have been in hell for quite some time. 

When you first saw the TV commercial you wanted to see what it was all about. Especially since you heard that your old friend Alastor was involved. You haven’t seen him in years. Seven to be exact. And to know that he was back sent butterflies in your stomach. You never told him, but you always harbored feelings for the eccentric radio host. You never had the guts to tell him though since you feared messing up your friendship.

Little did you know, he had feelings for you as well. Alastor was already intrigued with you when you first met. Just the way you carried yourself and treated others. It was also a plus that you hated that infernal TV just as he did. Plus, you were a great conversationalist and probably the only one who could keep up with him when you had the time to dance.

Soon enough, Charlie, Vaggie, Husk, Angel Dust, Nifty, and even Sir Pentious became family to you. Almost as if they were your children. 

“Nifty my dear, if you truly want to kill those little bugs I suggest you swing your knife in a diagonal direction instead of a perpendicular. That way, they have less of a chance to escape.” You told the little red-headed cyclops girl as she chased around a few stray roaches.

Nifty paused briefly and looked up at you from your seat at the bar. “Ooh! That’s a great idea! Less chance for them to escape hehe.” She giggled creepily and then started back on her roach hunt. 

You shook your head and smiled fondly at the girl. Then turning back to Husk you regarded him with a warm smile. “Well, since I’m here I mine as well indulge in a small drink. What do you have in mind for me today Husk? I do so love the different drinks you concoct. If you worked at a bar back in my days on Earth, you’d be regarded as an artist.”

Husk chuckled as he started up your drink. “Weren’t you alive durin’ prohibition times though?”

You just waved your hand nonchalantly. “Ah, semantics. Besides, you know what they say. Nothing fun ever comes from following the rules.”

“How right you are Cher! Why if people followed the rules, things would be so terribly boring.” Alastor said as he popped out from seemingly nowhere.

Husk handed you your drink and you smiled as you took a sip. “Oh, hello Al. How was the radio show today?”

Alastor’s eyes lit up and his smile shone brightly. Most people would find it off-putting but you personally loved it. “It went splendidly, my dear! Thank you for asking.”

You were about to say something more, but then Charlie came down the main stairs drawing your attention. “Charlie, my dear! How are you, sweetie? Do you feel any better since the latest meeting with that infernal angel? Ad-what’s his name? The first man, I guess?”

Charlie met your gaze and smiled. “I’m doing a little bit better (y/n), thanks. But you don’t have to worry so much. That meeting was a month ago!’

You just chuckle. “That may be so, but I can tell how stressed you’ve been hun.”

Angel Dust clicks his tongue as he takes a seat beside you. “You know toots, sometimes it seems like you're the mom of this place with how ya act.” He then glanced at Alastor who unbeknownst to you was gazing fondly at you. “An if you're the mother of this joint, that’d make ol smiles here the dad.”

“Haha! You know, that doesn’t sound too bad Ma Cherie. I’d consider myself lucky to be assumed to be your husband.” Alastor said as he put a hand on your shoulder.

Instead of commenting, you could only blush furiously. Feeling the heat crawl all the way up to your ears, you tried your best to compose yourself and hide your growing smile behind your glass. Almost hoping that Alastor didn’t catch how much his comment made your long-dead heart soar. But he was no fool, he could see that beautiful smile of yours even as you tried to hide it behind the crystalline glass. 

Perhaps you truly were like a little family after all. 

Hope you enjoyed the story my friend! I gotta say, this was an adorable request. I had a lot of fun with it!

And if you guys want even more stories--like maybe your own personalized several page long one shots or even a multi-chap fic take a look at my Etsy Shop! I do commissions! I even have listings for Hazbin Hotel!

[longdaytogo]

the boy in the portrait

@hotchnaur wrote a fic for this!

This is based off a little snippet I wrote which honestly isn't much (since I have absolutely no writing skills) but was more of a "I need to write this down before it disappears forever from my brain" kind of rush.

This takes place in an AU where Draco didn't make it out of the Fiendfyre, but the war is won and done. The Ministry has ordered a cleanup and seizes pureblood residences, namely Malfoy Manor, and Harry volunteers to inspect the property. He doesn't know why he did, but still apparates to the front gate, in a sort of trance since the Room of Requirement incident, not fully understanding why he's feeling so.

As he walks up the spiraled stairs and down the long corridors, it hits him that he's in the Malfoy ancestral home, the very place where Draco grew up. The eerie quiet is interrupted by the sound of a child crying and murmured shushes from a further corridor up the path. When he follows the sound, he's greeted by a long line of portraits, all old and dead, glaring at Harry before sharply turning and disappearing into their paintings.

He continues down the path until he gets to the very last portrait—a young boy crying, fisted hands covering his face. The other portraits tell him to "pipe down that noise" before vanishing, leaving only Harry and the young boy. When Harry approaches the smaller boy in the portrait to ask if he's alright, he stops dead in his tracks. It's Draco. A much younger Draco who looks to be around 6 or 7, much smaller than his first year at Hogwarts with his signature white blond hair and not-so-pointy chin.

Young Draco sniffles, wipes away his tears, and looks up at Harry, confused about who he is. He asks where his mother and father are and how lonely he is here. He explains how he "woke up" one day in this portrait and feels scared. How all the other portraits (namely Great Great Aunt Belvina and Grandfather Cygnus) won't answer his questions and only tell him to be quiet.

Harry stares at the younger Malfoy absentmindedly. He tells Draco he's here to stay for a while and asks if he has any messages for Lucius and Narcissa. "They're out right now but they'll be back shortly," he says, and young Draco's eyes light up. Draco finds a willing listener in Harry and tells him about how sad he is here, how delightfully boring it is, about his new toy dragon from Diagon Alley and about that one time Pansy and Theo fell face first in a puddle of mud as he and Blaise had watched, giggling while saying so.

Harry quietly listens, noticing he still points his nose up tauntingly while teasing and the way his haughty air or confidence seems to permeate the conversation. Harry tries to absorb all that he can, overlapping this young Draco with his Draco—noticing their similarities and difference where one is all childlike innocence and laughter, while the other only a mere husk of a boy towards his final days.

Young Draco tells Harry about his first flying lesson and his new broomstick when he suddenly asks if Harry knows "Harry Potter." Shocked, Harry asks how he knows the name when Draco, going a bit red in the ears, replies back how he's going to be Harry's best friend at Hogwarts ("once my letter arrives in a few years!") he says proudly. He tells Harry how he's made father buy out all the books on "Harry Potter" and how mother reads them to him nightly.

Draco makes Harry promise not to tell anyone, sharing that he only revealed it to so because he had shared so much already. Harry promises and, feeling a bit disheartened, says he needs to go, but he'll come back soon. Young Draco pouts and whines but understands, reminding Harry to pass along the message to Lucius and Narcissa. He waves goodbye, on the promises of "I'll see you later," and disappears into his portrait. Harry watches the boy vanish, then turns to leave down the corridor he came.

Walking down the stone path back to the gate, he recalls a boy with teary eyes surrounded by scorching flames and another boy dreaming of befriending the Boy Who Lived. He leaves Malfoy Manor feeling choked and a little worse than when he arrived.

[magicbystarlight]

Before I Knew You - Part Eleven

Bill Weasley x Reader

Masterlist, Part One

Summary: You’ve spent years training under Madam Pomfrey in the hopes that you would join the Healers at St. Mungo’s at graduation. But in the aftermath of the death of Albus Dumbledore, you chose to join the Order instead. When you’re forced into hiding, you find yourself alone with Bill Weasley and his new wolfish tendencies.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: 18+, typical canon warnings, smut, age gap, oral sex (fem recieving), delayed orgasm, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, rough sex, cum eating (kinda?), allusions to knotting, angst. Minors DNI.

A/N: This would not have been written without you, Lovely 💛

There was a lot of arguing. The younger siblings demanded answers. Their parents tried to give none. Bill countered that they should know. That it was in everyone’s best interest to be prepared in case they too were interrogated. Fred suggested moving you. He flinched at the growling disagreement from Bill. Molly tried to argue he may be right, but George said Yaxley could be hoping for that. Fear causes people to make mistakes, he argued. 

“What exactly did he ask?” The table fell silent, looking towards you. But you were only looking at Arthur.

“Much the same as his father had asked at the wedding. Why you’d been there, where you’d been before, where you went after. He asked that if I heard anything about or from you, to tell him. Only him. And if I saw you," he looked at Bill who nodded for him to continue, "to tell you that he has someplace safe.”

The table erupted again with words like delusion and trap thrown around. 

"He's going to the twins next." The commotion died once more, all eyes on you.

"How do you know?"

"Because I know Cillian." No. That wasn't right. The Cillian you knew wasn't a murderer. "At least, I know he was jealous of them back in school. Thought one of them had a thing for me." You'd nearly forgotten that. You looked between Fred and George. "He'll be more aggressive with you because of it."

Fred winked. "Don't worry 'bout us, love—

—we can handle him," George finished.

Bill's fist slammed on the table, making Ginny flinch. "This isn't a fucking joke!"

"But they need to act like it is," you countered. You kept your eyes on the twins. They needed to be prepared. They needed to know. "You've got to be as combative with him as he will be with you. Make it clear you have no intention to cooperate with him. If you act any differently it'll look suspicious to him."

Molly tapped her wand against the table, all the dishes lifting from the table. They flew to the kitchen, scraping themselves into the trash before settling into the sink. She followed them, waving her wand. Water and soap filled the sink. You’d forgotten magic could be used for something as mundane as dishes.

“That’s good to know,” George said, trying to ignore the uncertainty that had settled over the table with Molly’s abrupt end to dinner. Half the plates still had food.

“What if he brings his father?” Ginny asked.

“He won’t. Cillian has to be going behind his back trying to find me. Corbin wants me dead.”

Plates clattered in the kitchen. The Weasleys shared looks with each other.

Molly stood clutching the counter, staring out the window. "We should have all gone into hiding when we had a chance." Arthur came to her side and she allowed herself to be brought into his arms, burying her face in his chest. It hurt to see.

Ginny’s final day had been ruined. At least she’d be safe from Cillian’s questioning at Hogwarts. It would be too risky for him to go there. Even with Fred and George he’d have to be careful. Eyes would be everywhere in Diagon Alley with someone reporting back to someone who could report back to his father of his activities. That was if he wasn’t already being followed.

They left shortly after. Molly’s hug was a bit tighter than comfortable when she promised everything would be alright. Fred said he’d stop by again soon. Ginny said nothing, but squeezed your hand with watery eyes. You didn’t go outside to see them off, but as you looked at the clean kitchen you wish you had. There was nothing there to keep your hands busy. Magic had cleaned the dishes and put them in their place. It had wiped the counters. Swept the floors. Even the chairs had been pushed in. 

One pop. Then another. And then the door, steps, a hand on your shoulder. "I'm sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"Ginny got to enjoy most of her day. I wouldn't have been much fun if you'd told me before.” His hand fell off as you shrugged. “Besides, it’s better that they all know. So they’re prepared.”

“You really think he’s gonna go after them?”

“Cillian was jealous a lot.” Another thing you’d nearly forgotten. “I’ll be surprised if he doesn’t try to track down every guy that’s ever spoken to me.” Not the women though. He didn’t think Cho had counted. You turned and rested your head against his chest, his embrace welcome. The tension eased in your body.

“It’ll be okay,” he promises, “they’ll be okay.”

—

Bill left early the next morning to see Ginny off, reluctantly leaving you in bed with a kiss and a promise to not to be gone long. You stayed in bed for a bit, but sleep never returned. 

The sun rose higher in the sky as you worked out in the garden. Molly had brought the wolfsbane stored in the Burrow’s shed, miscellaneous potion ingredients that had been collected from various Order members, and any seeds she could spare the day before. Professor Sprout’s lectures echoed through your mind as you planted new seeds and replanted old plants into neat lines. You’d have to figure out how to build a greenhouse for some of the more difficult plants. There was plenty of sand to make glass.

When all that could be done in the small garden was done, it was still a quarter till ten. How you missed the hours it would take on the farm.

Your hair was your next task. That would take time. Washing, brushing, using your favorite hair potion Ginny had been thoughtful enough to bring. You considered styling it without the aid of magic to pass the time, but decided against it.

As your hair righted itself, your thoughts drifted back to the wolfsbane. Maybe if you could get in contact with Charlie, he could get some dragon blood. And maybe Hagrid could get some Occamy eggs. The rest would be easy enough to get your hands on. Then you could finally get a real attempt at the Wolfsbane Potion for Remus. 

Until then, you had other things you needed to start working on. Potions and salves to make now that you had the ingredients. 

That was how Bill found you a while later. Bent over a cauldron on the stove, hair covered to protect it from the steam of the Murtlap Essence. “Mum made treacle tart,” he said, sliding a pastry box on the counter. “And brownies.” Another box. “And some biscuits.” A third box. “She bakes a lot when she’s worried. I don’t think she slept at all.”

Your shoulders deflated. She’d have been worried anyway, with Ginny off to Hogwarts, but with the threat of Cillian hanging over her sons it must be so much worse.

“She wanted to know if she can drop by a couple times a week while I’m at work.”

“Why?”

“She wants to make sure you're doing alright. Thinks you have to be lonely here. She won’t say it, but she’s gonna be lonely too now that Ginny’s gone.” His arm slid around your waist. “I told Fred and George they should come by sometimes too.”

Your gaze snapped to his face, surprised. “Why?”

“Because you need a life outside of me. And I know my family isn’t really that, but I’ll see if I can get the other Order members to come by. Get them checked up and all that.”

“Do you really think that’s the greatest idea? You could barely stand having Kingsley here. Thought you were gonna tear Fred’s head off yesterday.”

“I’ll still get you to myself at night, right?”

“Yeah but,” you tried to explain, “are you sure you’re up for that? If it could make your symptoms worse, especially with the full moon coming, then mayb—“

His kiss cut you off.

“Like I said,” he breathed against your lips, “I’ll have you to myself at night. That’s enough.”

“But everything with Cillian, is it really safe?”

“It’s safer, I think, than you being here alone all the time. And we’ll come up with a plan in case something goes wrong. Practice some defensive spells, figure out a place to go.”

You kissed him softly. “Thank you.” 

“Oh don’t thank me,” he said, his teasing tone setting in, “it’s about time you started pulling your weight. Can’t have you lounge on the beach all day in some provocative little swimsuit, can we?”

You scoffed. “It was not provocative!”

“Have to disagree with you there, love.” His nose brushed against your cheek. “Everything you wear is provocative.”

“Guess I’ll stop wearing anything then.”

His groan had you smiling. “Please tell me you’re nearly done,” he begged.

“It’s gotta simmer for another couple hours,” he groaned again, “but it’ll be fine on its own fo—OH! Bill!”

It seemed he was determined to make it a habit of throwing you over his shoulder. Only this time he bypassed the couch and kicked the door to the bedroom open. You bounced against the mattress, giggling as you removed the hair covering. He was eager, giddy even, as he pulled off his clothes. He crawled up the bed, smiling into a messy kiss before helping to remove your own. 

His lips trailed down your neck. Teeth and tongue teased your collarbone. Your fingers tangled in his hair as his mouth found your breasts. A soft moan slipped out. He alternated between them, nipping and licking until you were squirming. When you asked him to stop teasing, he nuzzled into your neck and laughed. "I've got the patience today, love."

It clicked what he meant a moment before he slid down. Your groan turned high and breathless as his tongue glided between your folds. "Oh fuck," you gasped, hips jumping. His hand held you in place. You whimpered. This wasn't fair. His tongue traced a lazy pattern that had your legs shaking. You wanted to grab him and pull him closer. But he was unmoving. The pleasure was agonizing. He would go faster then slower. Fast, then slow. You felt the edge creeping closer and then he'd pull back and nip at the softness of your thighs.

He was merciless. He was enjoying himself. His groans were sinful, his hands greedy as the touched every part of you but the place you needed them most, his pace never slowing.

"Please," you begged, voice cracking.

Bill chuckled. "Please, what, love?" he asked, the vibrations shooting up your spine.

"Please stop teasing me. Please, let me cum. Please."

"So desperate for me, eh?" His fingers pushed into you. Rubbing and searching until they curled against a spot that had you seeing white. He hummed in delight, letting his tongue flick over your clit. The knot in your stomach snapped, his name falling from your lips over and over.

He didn't stop or slow as the high faded.  

"Bill," you cried. It was too much. You pushed at his head, trying to get away from the touch. You were too sensitive. His arm wrapped around your thigh and pulled you closer.

"One more, love."

"No, no, I can't. Bill, I can't."

"One more, love. Just one more," he promised. His hand was relentless. Fingers working that same spot. Your muscles tensed. His lips wrapped around your clit and sucked. Your vision blurred. The pleasure too intense, body locked and trembling. It was euphoric. When the spasming finally subsided you gulped down air.

Bill crawled back up, smiling proudly. "Beautiful," he said. The taste of you clung to his lips as he kissed you again. Your arms looped around his neck. You wanted more. Needed more. You pulled him closer. He settled between your legs. The head of his cock teased your entrance, making you jolt. Still sensitive. You whimpered into his mouth.

"Too much?" he asked, concerned.

Your legs wrapped around his and encouraged his hips forward. "Not enough."

His nose bumped against yours. "Godric, I love you."

He slid inside, inch by inch. Slowly. Your bodies pressed flush together. A gasp escaped when his hips finally met yours. His head fell to the crook of your neck, and he stilled for a moment, taking deep breaths. Then his hips pulled back and he began a slow pace. It was gentle. His lips caressing every part of your skin they could reach. Your hands trailed down his back. The pleasure built slowly until your climax hit again. 

He kissed your jaw. "More?" he whispered.

"More."

The pace picked up. Slow became steady. You whimpered as he continued to fill you.

"So perfect," he groaned.

His hips stuttered and picked up speed. You could feel another orgasm approaching. You dug your nails into his skin, holding on tight. His breathing grew heavy, his kisses messy and wet. His hips slammed against yours and you tumbled over the edge crying his name. He followed, burying his face in your neck as his hips slowed and came to a stop.

Bill collapsed beside you and pulled you close. "Think you could go for five?" he panted. You swatted his chest. He laughed and kissed your hair. You didn't want to move. Your eyes were drooping in exhaustion when you realized you had to.

"The dittany," you sighed, reluctantly pulling away from him. You went to stand, but your legs wobbled.

"I'll get it," Bill laughed, guiding you back down. He left with a kiss, not bothering to slip anything on. He's not gone long and he didn't come back empty handed. He was gentle with the warm washcloth as he wiped up his spend that had seeped out of you. But you were still sensitive. And vocal. A wicked gleam in his eyes warned you it wasn't over.

"What are you—" your words cut off in a sharp cry as his tongue dragged across your cunt again.

"Cleaning up my mess" he said before diving back in. He was thorough, tongue sliding inside you and swirling around. You were exhausted and sure you couldn't give him what he wanted, but he wasn't deterred.

He licked and nipped and sucked. His name fell from your lips.

"Please," you sobbed.

He pulled back, wiping his chin. "Please what?"

"I can't. Please."

He hummed, considering, and dove back in. You gripped the sheets, withering under him. He was relentless. It was overwhelming. Every muscle tensed, the knot in your stomach coiling tight. You cried out. It was blissful torture. Your toes curled. Your legs shook. The orgasm hit like a tidal wave. You whimpered as his tongue eased you down.

When he was satisfied, he pulled back. "Six?"

"Don't you fucking dare." There was no ire in your tone.

"Need me to grab you anything?" he offered with a sly grin. "Since you can't walk?"

"Shut up." You threw a pillow at him. He laughed, dodging the assault.

"Be back in a minute."

He was true to his word, returning with two glasses of water, the box of treacle tart, and a fork. He handed you a glass and climbed in bed next to you. He left another kiss against your forehead. It felt normal. As if you'd been together for years. As if you were together. He offered you the first bite of the tart. A part of you ached. 

—

Molly came the next morning after Bill had left for work. She was so different from your mother, yet so much the same. They both had to keep busy when things were stressful. Something to do to keep their mind clear. Your father wasn’t like that. He liked to sit and think and plan. 

She left not long after Bill returned home. You worried she’d noticed the way Bill nearly greeted you with a kiss. But she said nothing about it. You’re not sure if that made you feel better or worse.

—

Tonks popped in for only an hour the day after. Her conversation stayed far from werewolves or the upcoming full moon. It’s only as she was preparing to leave she asked, “Think we’ll see Bill anytime soon?”

“I don’t think so.”

She didn’t comment more on it. She knew. You felt a prickle of annoyance after her departure. She knew and said nothing. Not before, not when Bill was struggling, not now. Next time you’d ask for—no, demand answers. It was only fair. For Bill’s health.

—

You’re alone the two days leading up to the full moon. Bill was insatiable. You woke up the morning of with Bill’s rushed pleas in your ear.

“Need you, love. Please.”

It’s different. Less controlled. Like he’d been starved and presented a buffet. He’s desperate. “Cum for me, please. Need to, fuck love, need to feel you squeeze me, please, please, please.” You complied happily. 

—

You paced the living room. He was supposed to be home an hour before. You didn’t question him when he finally appeared. With the way he kissed you, it couldn’t have been anyone else.

He was rough. His hands bruising, possessive.

You don't remember making it to the bed or removing your clothes, but your there under him. His mouth is on your skin, biting and sucking. There would be bruises tomorrow. He buried himself inside you without resistance. The sound you let out was embarrassing. It only encouraged him. He fucked into you harder, his hand sliding between your bodies.

It's verging on painful. "Bill," you moaned, clawing at his shoulders. You don't want him to stop. His fingers circled your clit.

"Need you to cum," he groaned. His lips found yours again. His fingers worked faster. "I can't" he cut himself off with a growl, "can't hold back. Fuck, please cum." Your back arched and nails dug into his skin. He cursed. You cried, clenching around him. His hips slammed against yours once more, and then he stilled.

But something was wrong.

There was more pressure than there should be. You can't focus on it. Your eyes were too heavy. "Bill?" It came out groggy. His weight crashed into you. You were barely able to adjust him to allow yourself to breathe before you slipped into unconsciousness.

Author's Note: He said "I love you" and our girl assumed he meant in the friendly "Wow, you're so awesome and cool!" kinda way and not in the "In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you." kinda way. He's definitely having his own internal freakout about her nonresponse to it.

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