#now over halfway done with the fic!

[kirnet]

Don’t Wake the Ancients- Chapter 6

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-

The warrants took too long for Dorotea’s liking.

It was to be expected, waking a judge up in the middle of the night, but that didn’t shake away her nerves. Still, she wanted to do this right. She tried to follow Adam’s longstanding advice of getting some sleep, but the gentle spirals of snowfall kept her attention as she sat in her armchair by the window. The bruise around her eye grew by the minute, halving her sight, but eventually the blood stopped trickling from her nose. Dorotea didn’t bother assessing the damage in the mirror, just pressed a frozen bag of vegetables to the swollen skin.

It still ached an hour later when she was in a fresh set of clothes down at the station, where she briefed Tina and Captain Sung. Tina has fussed over her, making her a cup of motor oil from the dying coffee machine and tucking extra napkins into her pocket in case more blood started flowing. The captain, for his part, had clapped her on the shoulder and gave her a few proud words, his professional facade melting for a brief soft moment.

When the warrant arrived they slipped into the morning, Tea in her truck and Tina following in the station's only police car. No one was on the road yet, all of them probably struggling to shovel their driveways through their hangovers. Dorotea was thankful for that. The last thing she needed was an audience.

They wound their way down the powdered roads until the shops turned into unlit houses. Dorotea parked in front of a familiar one, allowing herself a single steadying breath before she threw herself into the blanket of snow.

Lance opened the door, sleep fogging his eyes. “This about last night, missy?” he yawned through a smile, though it fell when his vision cleared. “Jesus. Is that what Paul did to you?”

The warrant crinkled under her fingers as she lifted it to Lance’s sight. Her veins burned against the cold morning. “Lance Huttle, I am placing you under arrest on suspicion for the death of Janet Greenland. Hands behind your head.”

He laughed in disbelief, his breath fogging up the air. “Paul must have knocked something loose, girl.”

“Hands behind your head. I won’t repeat myself.”

Lance’s brow furrowed as Tina emerged from the car behind them and opened up the back door. Dorotea took the handcuffs from her belt. “I’m… you can’t-“

If he really wanted to, he could have thrown Dorotea off. He didn’t even appear to be injured from the bar brawl, not shifting his weight or clutching his stomach. He was an ox of a man, used to the hard toil of fields and orchards while Dorotea favored damp basements and misbehaving computers. But she grabbed his wrist roughly anyways and yanked it behind his back. And he let her, shock robbing him of his strength. “You have the right to remain silent,” she droned, forcing herself to not make the cuffs too tight. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law.”

“I didn’t-“

“You have a right to an attorney.”

“Tea-“

“That’s ‘Detective’ to you,” she snapped as she pushed him towards the patrol car. Tina took him from her as Dorotea finished reading him his rights. “I have a search warrant for your home. Put him in holding. No one talks to him until I get back, understand?” It was a struggle to keep her face hard, to not reach out and cuff his ear and scream until her voice gave out.

Tina nodded, understanding everything from Dorotea’s clipped words. “Yes, ma’am.”

Dorotea snapped her gloves on as the patrol car drove away, Lance’s nose pressed against the window.

-

“You sure you want to do this?”

Lance was in the interrogation room now, cuffed to the table, eyes darting every which way. It was more a closet than a room, and it was the station’s only one. Douglas had to clean the room in a hurry, disuse leaving a springtime amount of dust bunnies on every available surface.

Unit Bravo was there. Adam had somehow heard the baritone rumble of Verda’s voice through the phone when he called last night. He had insisted on being there for the arrest, buzzing on about protocol and safety, but he had eventually relented. “This isn’t a matter for outsiders,” she had whispered into the collar of his jacket. “Please.”

So surprisingly, he listened. He stood back with Morgan and Farah, watching as Dorotea flexed her hands, losing a staring contest with her reflection in the mirrored glass. Tina shifted beside her, a comforting hand on her elbow. Nate was situated somewhere in between the two groups, eyes darting anxiously between the two. “One of us should go in there with you.”

Dorotea’s grip tightened around the plastic bags in her hand. “No.” She could barely hear her own voice. “He’s mine.” In kinship and responsibility.

She stepped into the eye of the too-quiet storm, the only sound the rattling of handcuffs and the scuff of her boots. And then the harsh scrape of a chair as she pulled it across the linoleum. Dorotea sat, placed her evidence bags on the floor, and waited.

“I don’t know what piece of shit thought that it would be funny to call in a tip,” Lance immediately started, leaning forward as far as the restraints allowed, “but you can’t honestly believe a prank call.” The harsh lights above reflected in his pleading eyes.

Still silent, Dorotea grabbed the bag containing the camera and placed it on the table. “Do you know what this is?”

Lance snorted, grim humor momentarily overtaking him. “A camera?”

“Janet Greenland’s camera,” Dorotea corrected. With a single finger, she pushed the camera forward across the table. “Care to explain why your fingerprints are on it?”

“I-“ An immediate response started to form, but then Lance blinked, his mouth agape. “What?”

“Your fingerprints?”

Lance shook his head, anxious laughter bubbling up from his chest. “That’s impossible. I’ve never seen this in my life.”

“Where were you the night of Greenland’s murder.”

“At home. Asleep. We’ve been over this.” He waved his hands about. “My damn truck was in the driveway all night.”

“Sure, your truck was. You got two working legs, don’t you?”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Dorotea sighed, her eyes fluttering closed for a brief second. “If you tell me the truth, then I can help you.”

“The truth?” Lance exclaimed, now shaking. “Tea, is this some sort of sick joke-“

“The camera.”

“- I didn’t know that woman and I certainly have never seen her damn camera-“

“You want to know what I think happened?” Dorotea snapped, cleanly cutting off his ramblings. Her chair scraped harshly against the floor as she stood. “I think that you were out in the woods the night of Janet Greenland’s death. She was out taking photographs, and you chased her-“

“No,” Lance whispered, his face contorting.

“You grabbed her camera strap, trying to stop her. But she fell, right?”

Lance was crying now, the tears just appearing in the corners of his eyes as his face continued to morph into an expression Dorotea had never seen before. “No, no.”

“She fell right into a river, face first. She twisted her ankle. She broke her nose. So you threw the camera to the side and picked her up.” Dorotea’s voice dropped. “It was so easy, wasn’t it? She was stunned and hurt and a frail thing. No problem for a man your size.”

A strangled noise escaped from Lance’s throat. The uneven legs of his chairs thundered against the floor as he shook.

Dorotea continued, leaning down close to his face. Her eye stung. “What did you do then, Lance? Tied her down and slit her wrists. She fought you, didn’t she?”

“This is-” Lance’s lips didn’t seem to know how to move around his teeth. They pulled taut and snapped back into place like a rubber band, constantly in a jerking motion. It didn’t reach his wet eyes. “I didn’t-” He coughed the words out, almost like his own throat was constricting in protest, his own body rejecting them.

“Then what is this?” Dorotea growled. She stalked back to her seat and picked up the remaining bag on the floor. It was smaller than the palm of Dorotea’s hand, and she slapped it down onto the table. She tapped her nail against the single blond strand of hair within it. “I found it around the button of your jacket. Verda already IDed it as Greenland’s.” She slapped her hand down again. “What’d ya kill him with, Lance? Did you do it like a fucking animal?” Someone tapped on the mirrored window, but she ignored it. “Did you kill Garret?”

Lance didn’t answer. His eyes were glued to the hair, the whites of his eyes as bright as the lights above. Tears dribbled down his nose and spasming mouth, dotting his shirt.

A single definitive knock echoed around the room. Adam, she was sure.

Dorotea straightened and kicked her chair back into its correct place. “I will find whatever weapon was used to do this,” she vowed. “I will make sure they have justice, do you understand me?”

She gathered up her evidence and left him shaking and alone in the room.

“Where the hell is Verda?” Dorotea pushed past the waiting group, ignoring Tina’s calls and Nate’s worried expression. Anger clouded her vision, filling in everything but the basement staircase ahead of her. A single hair and a fingerprint on a soiled camera were compelling, but they would need more. A weapon, a motive, anything that could tie Lance to Janet. To Garret. For days now she had been waiting, running around town like a headless chicken. Where was her damn lab work?

A solid mass stepped in front of her. Dorotea almost crashed into it, but she stopped at the last possible second. “Is this how you run your station?” Adam hissed, his brows dangerously low over his eyes.

Fire surged through Dorotea’s veins. “Excuse me?”

“You are a leader here.” He jutted his chin to Tina. “How you act- and react- defines how your entire team will handle themselves during this investigation. You do not have the luxury of throwing a petulant fit when something doesn't go your way.”

Dorotea scoffed. “So you want me to be an emotionless asshole like you, is that it?”

“Yes,” he snapped, his lip curling. “We can not afford reckless mistakes, not while so much rests on our shoulders. I deferred to you here because I trusted in your abilities to make sound judgements. Do not make me regret that decision.”

She opened her mouth to retort, a generations worth of curses ready, but stopped and blinked instead. Commanding Agent du Mortain had just openly admitted that he respected her judgment. That alone was enough to shock her back into the present, though the warmth still lingered in her body.

“You’re right,” Dorotea admitted after a long moment, the words not as acrid as she expected them to be. She turned to glance back at the rest of Unit Bravo, each dealing with their own mixture of amusement and awkwardness. “I’m not sure what special training you have, but whatever magic you used on Katie worked. It might be worth you guys taking a crack at him.”

Farah coughed.

“After his public defender gets here.” Christ, Lance may be a double murderer, but he was still one of hers. No one had been found guilty yet, and she was not about to let a bunch of officials, whatever their Agency may be, to go after him without some protection. Dorotea turned to Tina. “Make sure one gets here soon. And contact Dr. Turner. I don’t know what that reaction was, but I want to make sure it isn’t a medical one.”

It took a moment for Tina to register the words. “Right,” she sputtered, almost tripping on her way to her desk.

“And you?” Adam asked. He hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t even appear to be breathing.

“I need to consult with Verda. We’ll need more physical evidence to get Lance if he won’t confess. And we have nothing tying him to Garret.” Dorotea’s fingernails bit into the brim of her hat. “We’re missing something. I’m certain.”

Nate cleared his throat. “If you’d like, I can review our notes. Perhaps a fresh pair of eyes will help uncover any discrepancies.” His voice grew increasingly stilted as he spoke. “I think we can all agree that jumping to conclusions and condemning a hysteric man is not the best course of action.”

“Sure. That’d be great.” Coffee. That’s what she needed. Caffeine and a whole lot of it, maybe something sweet. Something that she could blame her shaking on. She ignored Morgan’s pointed stare and brushed past Adam to the break room, leaving him to murmur something to Nate. She downed her cup, desperately trying to push the want for one of Mrs. Abernathy’s cookies from her mind.

Verda was busy sorting through things when she entered the basement, but he straightened and turned the moment the door shut behind her. “Did he do it?” he asked, his eyes almost owlish behind his prescription lenses.

“I need more physical evidence.” Verda always kept the lab tidy, though he hadn't worked a double homicide in quite a while. Now the cleanliness mocked her. They had access to the bodies, yes, and the two of them could perform basic forensic analysis, but the blood still remained a mystery. The lab equipment here was simply too old and too limited to compete with the hospital. “Where the hell are my samples?”

“I’ve tried calling.” Verda carded a hand through his hair as he leaned back against the counter. “That new blood tech they hired is an idiot. He probably never even looked at what we sent him.”

Dorotea was already striding out the door. “Pull more samples. We’ll do it ourselves if we have to.”

-

Braving the narrow, unplowed roads to Adelaide was certainly a decision, one that Dorotea was refusing to regret as she carved two lines through the white. Her truck was high enough to avoid most of the snow banks, and those deep winter tires had served her well before, so she pushed any possibility of danger from her mind, ignoring the steep cliff face to her right as she kept moving.

When she pulled onto a plowed main road, the stumpy building in sight, she realized she hadn’t actually told anyone where she was going. Cursing, she fished her phone from her pocket. “I’m in Adelaide,” she said to Adam’s voice mail. “Hopefully I’ll get my damn lab work. The roads are bad right now, so hold tight until Lance’s lawyer can get there. Maybe Nate can keep you busy.” She almost laughed at that. “Call me if anything changes on your end. I’ll be here a while.” Roads be damned, she wasn’t leaving until that blood technician was thoroughly schooled on the responsibilities of his station.

Dorotea brushed off the snow that dusted her hat as she entered the hospital. Though it was the tallest building in Adelaide, it was wide, giving it a more comical look than the tall ones she had seen in the city. A nurse occupied herself with a ratty romance paperback behind the front desk, seemingly unaware to Dorotea’s presence. “Excuse me.”

“You don’t look like you’re having a medical emergency, Detective Langford.” The nurse turned a page. Then her eyes trailed lazily up to the swollen ruin of Dorotea’s face. “Well damn, maybe you are. Finally mouth off to the wrong person?”

Dorotea ignored her. “Is Dr. Turner in?”

“He’s in Yellow Crick. Did you need him to write a prescription for an ice pack?”

“I ain’t in the mood, Martha. Where’s the lab?”

Martha rolled her eyes but pointed vaguely down the hall, never looking up from her book. “My thanks,” Dorotea scoffed before stomping away.

Signs warning against public access were posted on the thick door, but Dorotea didn’t spare them a glance as she pulled it open. The hospital’s lab was much larger than the one at the station, though, Dorotea noted with pride, not nearly as orderly. Machines beeped and whirred as she walked past, and she wondered how easy it would be to get Adam to lug one of them into the back of her truck. The hospital certainly didn’t seem to be using it. “Hello?”

“Oh!” a voice squeaked from behind one of the storage aisles. The man who appeared was tall and lanky, his wrist bones jutting out from the too-short sleeves of his lab coat. Shaggy black hair that should certainly be tied back fell into his icy blue eyes. The chill that ran down Dorotea’s spine at the sight of them was worse than the frost outside, but she pushed it down and approached him. “Can I help you?”

Dorotea cleared her throat. “I’m Detective Langford from Wayhaven.” She let the words sink in for a moment, expecting him to wince or display any other sign of shame, but the technician just tilted his head to the side. “I’ve given you more than enough time to get these lab results over to me. What, you think that since you transferred to some podunk town in the middle of the hills you get to slack off?” She pushed a finger into his chest. “Well?”

It took him a moment to compose himself, his eyes darting between her finger and her face. “There’s no need for that.” The man seemed to unfurl, his shoulders rounding and his posture straightening. Confidence dripped from his smile as his eyes caught the bright lights above. “Calm yourself.”

“Excuse me?” Dorotea’s nostrils flared.

The lab tech snapped back into himself. “Sorry,” he stuttered, stepping even closer. “What I meant was- I mean- I’m Ethan. Ethan Murphy. Nice to-“ Murphy stuck his hand out to reach towards hers, but his toe tripped over empty air. He stumbled forward, colliding with Dorotea and pushing her back against the counter. Reflexively, her hand shot out, pushing the glassware to the floor. Pain erupted from her wrist first as her weight harshly landed on it, then from her back where the lip of the counter dug into her. It took her a few full seconds to even realize that she was bleeding.

The shard of glass that sliced her palm open clattered to the ground as she raised her hand to her face. “I am so sorry,” Murphy said in a tone that reminded Dorotea of some of the yapping dogs around town. He balled up the hem of his lab coat and pressed it into her palm, the tip of his tongue poking out as he watched it turn a shade of pink. “Here, let me-“

“Get off of me!” she snapped, snatching her hand away. She pushed past him towards the sink, where she ripped out a wad of paper towels and pressed them against her wound. “The results. Now!” she added when Murphy didn’t move.

He scurried away. The cut was deep, and it bled like a fountain, but it looked more horrific than it actually was. There was a small emergency first aid kit on the wall, and Dorotea busied herself with cleaning and bandaging the wound until Murphy came back. It was awkward with one hand and not nearly as tight as it probably should be, but the bandages covered the worst of it when he returned with a tan folder in his hand. “Again, I am so sorry.”

Dorotea grabbed it, a pit opening in her stomach as she saw the way Murphy watched her every move. “Make it up to me by doing your fucking job next time.” Though there would never be a next time, she decided as she pushed out of the lab without a further word. Her and Verda would be more than enough.

Even the snow pissed her off as she stomped to her car. Childlike wonder be damned, it was cold and getting in her eyes and the air stung her hand. If that wasn’t bad enough, the bandages started to unravel when she was halfway across the parking lot. Her hand burned as blood dripped down her fingers onto the blanket of snow.

She cursed but ignored it, a tingle on the back of her neck hastening her step. It wasn’t until she pulled herself into the truck did she rebandage it, this time much more tightly. Then she turned the defroster on, antsy for it to blare to life so that she could pull out of there.

Her mouth tugged down as she glanced out the windshield. The snow had stopped.

-

Tina was her first victim when she finally arrived at the station. “The public defender?” Dorotea asked instead of a greeting, catching Tina as she was making a cup of packaged cocoa for her and Douglas.

“Still on her way,” Tina answered with a small shake of her head, pulling a third mug down from the cupboard. “Hopefully she’ll be here soon now that the snow’s given up.”

“And Unit Bravo?”

A mummified bag of marshmallows dropped from the top shelf, all of them melted together in one solid mass. Tina stuck her hand in, pried them apart, and plopped fist fulls into the cups. “Tall, dark, and handsome said that they had to meet with their handler. Something about Lance’s answers bothered them.”

“I think that’s the first normal reaction they’ve had to something this whole case.” Dorotea leaned against the counter, careful to hide her injured hand as she took a steaming mug from Tina. Frothy cocoa coated her top lip as she took a sip. “Lance wasn’t acting right. Did Dr. Turner mention anything?”

Another lump of marshmallows went into Tina’s mouth before she answered. “We didn’t have to call him. Lance calmed down once you left. I mean, I would have been shaking in my boots if that Morgan was interrogating me, but everything seemed right as rain with him after that.”

Dorotea almost dropped her mug. “Morgan went in there?”

“Oh yeah. Asked a lot of the same questions you did. Lance still couldn’t give any straight answers, though.”

Hurt stabbed Dorotea’s heart. “You just let them in there? Without a defender or anything?” She sprang to her feet. “Christ, Tina, you can’t go behind my back like that!”

Tina blinked, wrinkles forming on her brow. “They said it was urgent,” she said, her voice weirdly airy.

Dorotea scoffed and gathered the file up. “If you’d rather start taking orders from them, you’re more than welcome to ask if they have any job openings.” Betrayal dripped from every word. She pulled her hat down low, turned on her heel, and ignored Tina’s call as she plowed towards the basement steps.

“Dear God! What happened to you?” Verda erupted when Dorotea tossed the file onto the table before him. He grabbed her hand and turned her palm up, his eyes widening at the blossom of red across the bandage.

“That bastard blood tech,” Dorotea spat, recounting her experience as Verda recleaned and bandaged the cut.

Verda tutted. “This might need stitches. You didn’t think to get help when you were in the hospital?”

“You don’t know how creepy this guy was,” Dorotea retorted weakly, exhaustion finally burning her eyes. “I’m going to want his results double checked. I trust a snake oil salesman more than I trust his competency.”

“And I am sure glad you trust mine.” The pair sat in silence for a while longer, both unwilling to break the peace and head back into the chaos. Verda traced a finger down the center of the bandage, just light enough for Dorotea not to feel it. “We should get back.”

Dorotea sighed. “Duty calls.” She stood, clapped Verda on the shoulder, and hurried to her office before Tina could intercept her. The officer frowned in her direction but stayed at her desk, her curls hiding her eyes.

She shut the blinds to her office and collapsed into her chair, the force of the action wheeling her back a few inches. Dorotea wanted to puzzle through her thoughts. She wanted to be mad at Lance and Tina and Unit Bravo and everyone who had undercut her trust today. But she simply no longer had the energy. With her final bit of strength, Dorotea hauled her leaden legs up onto her desk, pulled her hat low over her eyes, and plunged into darkness.

-

The phone might have rang minutes or hours after she drifted off; Dorotea wasn’t sure. Routine guided her hand more than her mind as she brought it to her ear. She uttered something that might have sounded like “what.”

“Dorotea.” Verda’s usually crisp voice was slightly slurred. “I compared Huttle’s DNA sample to Dr. Murphy’s analysis of Garret’s fingernail.” He sucked in a breath. “It’s a match.”

“However-“ he continued quickly as something took root in Dorotea’s throat and painfully tried to push through her teeth. “I compared it to another sample of Garret’s fingernail that I just pulled. That blood is still dead, or whatever we’re calling it. There is no match to Huttle’s blood whatsoever.”

It took a few moments for Dorotea to register the words. “Did that motherfucker think we wouldn’t check?”

“It’s possible it’s some sort of error and he mixed up the samples.” She could hear Verda’s tight frown over the phone. “But we never sent him a sample of Huttle’s for reference.”

“Error my ass.” Dorotea sucked on her teeth. “There’s nothing about the dead blood samples in the report?”

“Nothing.”

“And that doesn’t seem suspicious to you?”

Verda sighed deeply. “Dorotea, I respect you too much to dance around what I mean to say. Your mind is looking for any possible connection, any way to make the suspect someone other than Lance. That is understandable given your current state. But you cannot act like this is a valid line of reasoning. Not when this is the only time you have ever interacted with this man.”

“I feel it in my bones, Verda. There’s something off about Dr. Murphy.” Damn her father’s reports, damn her mother and damn those agents. She was losing her mind, wasn’t she, all valid reasoning replaced with campfire stories and imagined voices. Practical, reasonable Detective Langford had been reduced to this: someone like Mrs. Benedict who cried wolf at every shadow.

But damn it, she still had to trust her gut, even if her head was in a tailspin. She could explain all she wanted that logic had led her to that boy in the first, the rain lapping at his shivering body. And it had, but not as much as the tug in the core of her being, a compass that cut right through the ever changing forest.

Dorotea’s voice dropped to a whisper, even though she was alone in her office. “We’re not sending a single sample over there ever again, got it? Maybe it was just an error, but we have a man who is in a perfect position to falsify evidence who is-“ She slammed the phone down before she could finish, whirling to see who had just turned the doorknob.

“Relax. I’m not your killer.” Dorotea’s knuckles turned white as she still gripped the phone. Bobby paid her foul expression no mind. He closed the door behind him, then invited himself to a chair with an easy smile. “Care to share what that phone call was about, angel?”

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: DCU (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Dick Grayson/Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson Characters: Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake (DCU) Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Bruce Wayne, Omega Tim Drake (DCU), Unhealthy Relationships, Manipulation, Porn With Plot, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Grooming, Bad Parent Bruce Wayne, Rough Sex, Breathplay, Consent Issues, Mating Bites, Mating Bond, Protectiveness, Protective Dick Grayson, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Painful Sex, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Bittersweet Ending, Spanking, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Barebacking Summary:

Dick had accepted his relationship with Bruce was fucked up and probably unhealthy. He was okay with that. He even had enough self-preservation to refuse to be Bruce's mate for that reason. But when Bruce turns his attention to Tim, Dick's instincts for Tim show him exactly how little self-preservation he has, if it means protecting someone else from Bruce.

-

Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 4: Protective Instincts

[its-stupidhours]

happy valentine's day!!! here's a bit (read: basically a whole (albeit short) scene) from my "big smir fic" -- this was written a while back (I want to say some time last summer?) but I've been working on the fic again recently and this scene is in the chapter I've been focusing on and it is. disgustingly sweet. also it literally takes place on valentine's day. enjoy :)

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Tanner said immediately. “Why?”

“I want to show you something.” Fir took Tanner’s hand and started leading him away. “Come on. It’ll be cool, I promise.”

“Ok?”

Fir dragged him back to the greenhouse, only to pause once they entered. “Wait, shit, I forgot it was a mess in here.” He chuckled sheepishly as he started tidying his lab. “Give me a minute, hold on.”

“Take your time.” Tanner occupied himself with walking around the workspace and inspecting the various ingredients and tools he came across. “I don’t think I’ve ever actually been in here before, so. At least, not since the curse broke.”

“Wait, really?” Fir glanced over at him with a smile. “Even better, actually. Sorry it’s not much, but—”

“No, it’s cool!” Tanner stopped walking, standing tall in the middle of the greenhouse. “It’s really cool.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so.” Fir finally finished his tidying up. He put his hands on his hips and looked over his slightly-cleaner lab with pride. “There we go! And now for the actual thing I wanted to show you.”

“Right, that. What is it?”

“A potion!”

“I’ve kinda guessed that at this point,” Tanner chuckled. “But what does it do?”

Fir shot him a sly smile. “You’ll see.”

He had prepared most of it beforehand, but there were still a few finishing touches to complete. Tanner walked over and looked over Fir’s shoulder as he combined two mixtures into a singular vial, then held the mixture tightly in his hands to warm it up. When he let go, the potion went from a light green to a bright, clear blue — then suddenly flashed pure black before finally settling as completely clear with waves of iridescence shimmering within.

"That should do it." Fir held the bottle up to the light and swirled it around a little, looking back at Tanner with a grin once he felt satisfied with what he saw. Tanner was still just staring, enraptured, at the vial. "Give me your hand?"

Tanner didn't move for a moment, unsure, but he slowly put his hand out nonetheless. "Ok?"

Fir gently held it in front of him. "Now, don't freak out…"

"You saying that makes me freak out more."

Fir chuckled. "Fair. But seriously, it shouldn't hurt, and it'll wash off after, don't worry. Just look."

And with that, he tipped the bottle over and poured the contents out on Tanner's hand. Tanner flinched at the sudden cool feeling, then stood, frozen, staring wide-eyed at his hand. As the potion ran down, almost like ink in the way it moved, it covered each spot it touched with invisibility. More revealed, then, than covered. Fir looked up and felt a spark in his chest at the sight of Tanner's face flooded with unabashed awe. It was a sight he would never get tired of.

"Oh, wow," Tanner whispered. He held his hand up — or, well, he held what appeared to be the stump of his wrist up, until he turned his hand over and the palm was once again visible. He laughed a little as he curled and uncurled his fingers over and over — invisible, then visible, invisible, then visible. "This is so cool."

Fir grinned proudly. "Yeah?"

"Oh, absolutely. It…" Tanner caught Fir's eye and grinned back. "The things you're able to do with magic… I've never even dreamed of something like this, it's amazing."

He held his hand up, watching intently as a drop of the potion ran down his arm, turning another streak transparent. Then he looked back up at his hand, turning it sideways to marvel at the line between invisibility and visibility. 

Fir just watched, unable to look away himself — not from the potion, but from Tanner. The soft curve of his absent-minded smile, how parts of his hair stuck together from the melted snow, the way his eyes would flicker up and down to track the potion; Fir drank in every detail he could without even realizing he was doing it.

“I have more,” Fir said after… some amount of time. He wasn’t really sure, and he didn’t really care.

Tanner’s eyes were glowing. “Really?”

“Of course, dude,” Fir chuckled. “That’s kind of my whole thing. The sink’s over by the door, by the way.” He turned back to his desk to look for the next thing he wanted to show off: the lighter potion that would allow him to make a flame with a snap of his fingers.

“Thanks,” Tanner said, “I’m almost tempted to not wash it off.” Fir could hear the water running; for a second that was the only sound in the greenhouse. “I thought you were working on your thesis, though? When did you have time for all this?”

“Oh, I mean, I am!” Fir gave a weary laugh. “I am pretty much constantly working on my thesis. I didn’t come up with the recipe for that potion from scratch, I learned it a long time ago from this, like, teen’s book of cool potions to show off to your friends. And, uh, I know you like magic, and I know you’re my friend, so I wanted to show it off to you! Take a bit of a break for an hour or so. My thesis can wait.”

Fir finally found it. He turned around to see Tanner staring at him with a — bewildered? conflicted? curious? — look on his face, the invisibility potion washed off and the sink no longer running.

“What?” Fir asked.

Tanner stared at him for a second longer, then smiled and shook his head. “I don’t get you sometimes.” There was a beat. “Thank you."

[ragnarokhound]

"reading under the red hood and it's pretty good i think" - jason todd fan who has only seen the cartoon adaptation of under the red hood

[cosmically-intertwined]

the day I finish tcptp is the day I will finally know peace

[neurodiversebones]

6k words into a fic i'm so proud of and it's 12:30 am and i can barely keep my eyes open but FUCK i wanna write more

[soft-spooks]

LAYING on the floor staring at the ceiling etc etc

[roylustang]

I am overachieving so hard in 2023 god bless

[theworld-accordingtocasey]

smut where he gets his multiple times on several different occasions throughout the story before it gets to where I get mine <<<

🙄 i don’t read fics so that everything can revolve around the guy’s pleasure like real life

[ghosts-and-blue-sweaters]

I’m a simple man; if I work on the Crime Boys Modern AU, I consider it a good day.

I worked on the Crime Boys Modern AU. Therefore, it is a good day :)

[thetaoofbetty]

What's a dumb toxic trait of yours?

okay first i'm not gonna really rat myself out like that so you're gonna have to accept whatever i say it is alright?

but truly, there are hundreds of asks in my drafts i answered and forgot to post and/or it was already set to draft so i didn't post it without finishing on accident and now it's like purgatory in there.

so, uh, you know...sorry if i forgot to answer an ask. it wasn't personal, it's because i'm an idiot.

[irndad]

don't date coworkers- s.r.

a/n: i literally wrote this very fast and also i hope you like it pls go easy on me!!! reader has a policy they don't date coworkers. spencer is so angsty abt that !! also sorry for dropping a new fic at 2am LOL wc: 1.7k

She’s really, really good at talking to people. 

It’s one of the many traits Spencer adores about her. She moves through crowds with ease, and she can charm her way into any piece of information from whatever city cop they need a favor from. She integrated into the team faster than anyone could’ve expected. This is a strength not all profilers have- they know what it takes to know what makes someone appealing, but rare is the ability to be as charismatic and charming as she is. 

She’s good at talking to him.

She’s worked at the BAU for about a year now. 13 months, 7 days and 8 hours since she walked through the doors of the bullpen for the first time, beaming at him for the very first time. Give or take. 

Spencer wouldn’t be surprised if everyone knew that he was in love with her. He’s halfway certain she does, and is being too polite to mention it. Normally, Spencer is incredibly regimented about boundaries. While the BAU is his family, and there’s no real way to deny that, he knows that he’s less than ideal to go out with. He’s stocky and he never cuts his hair (even though she swears it’s cute longer) and he’s an awkward guy- gangly and tall and just ill-fitting to be part of the scenery of her life. 

It’s a Friday, and a rainy one at that. It’s one of the blessed ones where they don’t really have a case, just paperwork to catch up on, reports and her desk faces a window. 

Normally, when Spencer gets his work done (a good four hours before everyone else on a paperwork-only day), he’d head out. Catch up on whatever Russian novel he’s been chipping away at- but she’s here, and he’s made her favorite tea. 

“I thought you could use a treat,” he says, walking over to her desk. She looks up at him, brushing overgrown bangs, “It’s not really a great one, but I’ll get you some scones on the way to mine, yeah?”

She looks up at him, dropping her pen and focusing entire energy on him. He feels a bit overwhelmed, like an ant under a magnifying glass. 

“Did you know that I adore you, Spence?” 

He is very much not aware. No amount of her saying it will ever make him know. She takes a long sip from the mug. He knows how much honey she likes in it. He studies how she looks, eyes closed serenely, completely invested in what he’s given her. 

“You’ll be taking her home, pretty boy?” Morgan snickers, in a not altogether unkind manner. 

“Fuck off,” she says kindly, not taking her eyes off of Spencer as she rebuffed Morgan’s teasing. 

“Easy, easy,” Morgan laughs, “I’ll leave your boyfriend alone.”

If she has anything to say to that, it doesn’t come out then. 

He’s still bright red, though. Morgan is amused, and Spencer knows that she really, truly adores Morgan. Spencer loves him too, but it would be nice if he laid off the jokes. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

He knows this because of the first time they’d met, when he’d been walking in carrying a croissant for Garcia and a coffee for JJ, and saw what can only be described as a truly ridiculously beautiful woman in the bullpen. 

She’d been leaned back, smiling openly as Morgan tossed some random pick-up line towards her. He remembers it now like he can still hear it, her lilting lovely voice carrying just the right amount of warmth to make this not sting, or at least sting as little as possible. 

“I’m sorry, Derek,” she had said, “I make it a point not to date coworkers.” 

Which of course is fine. She can date whoever she wants, and it’s a good policy to have personally. And Spencer’s never really be the kind of guy who excelled at getting dates. He knew from the first minute that he saw her that even if she didn’t think that way… well, it wouldn’t be him, who she picked. 

Now, they are very close. So close that she drives him home from work every Friday. Which usually includes staying at his shitty apartment and watching VHS tapes of documentaries and Doctor Who. 

He wants to kiss her every Friday. All, the time, really. It’s kind of plaguing him. Clearly, she likes hanging out with him. Something about him is appealing. It’s foolish to assume that it’s more than friends, especially for someone like him to be with someone like her. 

She doesn’t date coworkers. 

“I made sure the film tonight has subtitles!”

“Are you saying film because this film is foreign, Spence?”

“I promise it’s worth it!” He says excitedly, “And they’re really done well. You won’t have to have me whisper the translations to you in real time!”

“I didn’t mind that,” She laughs then, a real laugh, “but I’m glad we’re getting to hang out tonight.”

It’s funny- they’ve done this so, so many times, but he never stops being thrilled. 

___________________________________

Sometimes, when the summer air is forgiving enough, they walk home from the office. She takes the train in, and they walk back to his place. Tonight is one of these nights, and god- she looks lovely. She’s tied her blazer around her waist, and the sunset hits her face in that gorgeous baroque painting kind of way. 

“You’re very pretty,” he hears himself say before he can stop it. He’s endlessly pleased when she preens at the praise. 

“You’re not so bad yourself, Doctor,” she says, shoving her hands into her pockets, a nervous gesture. He wants to hold those hand, intertwine her lovely delicate fingers with his bony wispy fingers. 

“You’re being nice to me,” he says, looking down at his shoes. They’re stupid. He should wear loafers, or some other shoe that doesn’t make him like half-child half-geek. 

“I’m being accurate, actually,” she says she bumps his shoulder. 

She’d be a wonderful girlfriend. He lives in the world this can happen quite often, in his fantasy. She laughs at his jokes and tells him he’s kind, and good, and she means it. He’s lucky to have this much of her- more than anyone else on the team! Spencer knows he’s her favorite. The way she’s looking at him now, how she give-up her Fridays to spend with him, on his ratty couch, how she always listens. Whenever they're both on the jet and he falls asleep, he always wakes up with a blanket on him. She's so good at loving people.

Being her favorite on the team does not mean he’s in the running to be a boyfriend. But he’d fucking want to be. He’d be a good boyfriend. Spencer, he’s gone so far for her. He fantasizes about getting her flowers that have symbolic meaning.

“Are you okay, boy-genius?”

“I’m better than okay. Do you want popcorn?”

She wants popcorn. He sets the movie up, and she gets comfortable on his couch, curling up with his purple felt blanket, and his mind betrays him with unhelpful images of what it might look like if she was his, if this is what he came home to. 

Don't picture welcome home kisses, or movie nights or being wanted. Don't.

It’s very, very hard to focus on the movie.  

She’s touchy, with him. He’s not sure if it’s because she could never see him as her boyfriend, but he’s grateful as she leans her head on his. She smells like peonies. When the credits roll, they stay like that for minute- her head on his shoulder and one of her legs thrown over his. 

He wonders, not for the first time, if she feels the same way about him. If things were just..different, then they’d be kissing under the haze of his TV right now, if he’d know what that chapstick she carries with her every day tastes like. 

“Do you ever wonder what it’d be like if we met under different circumstances?” he says, once time passes and he speaks instead of thinking.

“Hmm?” She hummed, relaxed eyes flitting their gaze over to him.

“Like, at a bar or something.”

“But you hate bars.”

“That’s why I said or something!”

Her lip juts out adorably, “But then I wouldn’t get to see you in your element.”

“Yeah,” he sighs, resting his neck on the top of the cushion. The AC is a little too much in the room. He wonders if she’s cold. “But who knows. Maybe we’d date, or something.”

It’s the dumbest thing he’s ever fucking said. Both because it was a dumb way to say it, but because it was an advance. He feels white hot shame lick at his spine when he looks at her, and hears her laugh. 

“I don’t think so, Spence.” 

“No,” shitshitshit, “I didn’t mean-“

“I mean, if you don’t want to date me now, I don’t think meeting at like, Whole Foods would’ve been the difference maker.”

It’s then he hears it- the piece he couldn’t place in her voice, when she gets like this. It’s being resigned. 

“What are you talking about?”

“C’mon, Spence,” she says, another bitter chuckle coming through, “You know how I feel. I haven’t exactly beens subtle.”

“But you don’t date coworkers. You have a rule.”

She looks at him with no recognition of what he’s saying. 

“No, because you told Morgan that, it’s the first thing I ever heard you say.”

“Yeah, but-“

“And yes, okay, you’ve been my favorite person almost as long as I’ve known you and yes, I would fucking love for you to be my girlfriend, but that was your rule!”

“You want me to be your girlfriend?”

“Obviously!”

He doesn’t get the chance to say anything else before, well- before she’s kissing him. More aggressive than that, really. Crawled onto his lap, arms around his neck, and where she leads Spencer is all too happy to follow. His body is not great at moving on instinct, but his whole nervous system feels alive- the weight of her in his lap, the feel of her waist under his fingers, the way he’s allowed this. It feels like such a pleasure, hedonistic in a way he’s never, ever been allowed to experience.

“You had a rule,” he says dumbly when she pulls away. His lips are wet. He’d like to go back to kissing, thank you very much. 

“You’re the exception, to every rule, Spencer.”

When he kisses her again (which he’s allowed to do now, holy fuck) Spencer decides he’s going to spend the rest of all time earning that status. 

[angelfic]

— CALM AFTER THE STORM

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: the 4 times you hate each other, and the one time you don’t. alternatively, remus lupin is a pain in your arse and yours alone.

warnings: enemies to lovers, swearing, kissing, mention of blood and wounds, some bad writing as always which is unedited

author’s note: just a little e2l fic for my own indulgence as its my fave trope and its criminal how i barely have any e2l fics… also haven’t written anything in ages soooo enjoy!

when he just has to be controversial

The sun was beaming, colourful rays reflecting over your book through the stained-glass windows of the Gryffindor common room as you lounged on the sofa with your head in Lily’s lap. You were barely paying attention to the chatter of your friends around you, choosing to focus on your copy of ‘The Catcher in the Rye’ and Marlene’s soft guitar playing. The lazy afternoon is a welcome break from the increasingly stressful N.E.W.T lessons that have had you all so exhausted, you’re not sure if Peter is asleep or dead from his curled-up position on the rug.

You don’t even realise someone is saying your name until Marlene tickles the sole of your socked foot with her guitar pick, making you yelp and draw your legs in from where they were previously tucked in between Marlene and her guitar.

“What was that for?” you grumble, nudging her arm with your foot.

Marlene smirks, nodding over to James. “He told me to get your attention. Didn’t specify how.”

You roll your eyes and turn on your side to face the boy in question, his grin unfaltering as he multitasks polishing the handle of his broomstick and talking to you. “Not my fault you’re dead to the world when you’re reading,” he says, matter-of-fact, continuing when you raise your eyebrows in impatience. “I was just wondering how you could look so interested in that book. Remus said he’d do my homework for a month if I finished it the other day and I couldn’t get past five arse-numbingly dull pages.”

You scoff, adjusting your position again to face Remus as well. “And why was Remus betting you to read my book, exactly?”

“It was my copy,” Remus replies, scribbling away on his parchment, cross legged on his chair, to undoubtedly finish the Potions essay that Slughorn had set yesterday. You’re transfixed on the way his hand is moving across the page for a second, unable to fathom how someone can have such messy handwriting. You aren’t surprised in the slightest that the next words coming out of his mouth are ones you disagree with. “I wanted to see how long he lasted reading the slowest-paced book in the world.”

You abruptly sit up at this, shutting your book and forgetting plans of relaxation.

“Hey, watch it!” Lily exclaims, lifting the bottle of black polish she’s using to paint Sirius’ nails from its balanced position on her thigh to avoid you spilling it all over her white top. “If you’re about to argue, please refrain from throwing things until after I’ve done the second coat of nail polish.”

You pointedly ignore this and narrow your eyes at Remus who, infuriatingly, still hasn’t lifted his head from his essay. “I’m surprised you found it hard to read such a slow book. Thought that’d be perfect for you.”

“Look what you’ve started, Prongs,” Sirius sighs, examining his nails.

Seeing the corners of Remus’ lips pull up into a slight smile at your comment just spurs you on in defence of the book you were previously enjoying. “Besides, it’s about a real-life teenager with real-life struggles, not The Hobbit on his latest adventure.”

“Who’s Hobbit?” James mumbles, scratching his head in confusion as Marlene just shrugs, equally oblivious.

“It’s overrated,” Remus insists, finally setting down his quill to look at you. The amused expression still hasn’t left his face and you make a noise halfway between a scoff and a high-pitched squeal of indignance. “Even James agrees.”

“Oh, and James’ opinion on literature is the standard now?” You raise a brow, tutting when James starts to protest. “The only book James has finished in the last six years was Quidditch Through the Ages.”

The way James slowly slides the aforementioned book under one of the sofa cushions doesn’t go unnoticed by anyone. Sirius starts snickering, much to Lily’s annoyance as she tries to control his hand. “She got you there, in fairness, mate.”

Sirius’ chortling seems to stir Peter from his sleep and he opens one eye to peer at you. Seeming to catch sight of your irritated expression, he frowns. “Are these two arguing like an old married couple again?”

“Merlin help us if these two ever decide to get married,” Marlene utters under her breath, bent over her guitar and avoiding the weight of your glare.

“Yeah, he wishes,” you grumble, shuffling around on the sofa to get back into a comfortable position with your book. Remus’ smile has only widened in response and he seems to enjoy your discomfort as you overcompensate for showing your annoyance by wriggling about.

“I dream about it every night,” Remus replies, dryly and Peter giggles below you before turning over to sleep again.  

You overcompensate a little too much by moving around, because Lily huffs from beside you and starts scrambling around for a tissue. “What did I say about the second coat?”

“I didn’t throw anything this time!”

2. when he won’t let you give someone a black eye

Defence Against the Dark Arts is your favourite N.E.W.T subject for a lot of reasons. You enjoy the lesson content, it’ll be useful in future years, and it’s the one lesson you share with every single one of your friends.

You’ve gotten used to James and Sirius messing around while Professor Marigold recites fact after fact about spells and creatures and wizards of dark nature. Its like soothing background noise to you and your classmates who all concentrate in silence most of the time.

Which is why your quill stops on your page and leaves a growing ink blot when you hear snickering and whispers from the other side of the classroom rather than from in front of you where the marauders sit in a line.

The scoffs of disgust coming from Snape and Mulciber are loud enough to attract the attention of the rest of the students and even the teacher, who eventually sets down her piece of chalk in the middle of talking about Wolfsbane potion with an impatient sigh.

“Is there some sort of pressing issue that can’t wait until after class to discuss, boys?” Professor Marigold asks with a tone of ire that would impress Professor McGonagall. “Even Black and Potter have decided to give it a rest today.”

She’s not wrong, you think, noting how they’ve been less disruptive than usual for this lesson, probably tired out from setting each other’s robes on fire in Charms the hour before.

“The pressing issue is werewolves,” Snape mutters quietly, as though he doesn’t want to make a big issue but can’t stop himself from speaking up. “We should be learning more about how to kill them and less about the price of potion ingredients.”

Lily gasps from beside you and Sirius and James tense up at his words. Remus doesn’t lift his head, but you absently notice how his grip tightens around his quill when Peter nervously turns to him. Peter isn’t one for conflict and he’s always been nervous around this particular group of Slytherins, so you’re not surprised he’s anxious.

“Werewolves are still people, you can’t just go around killing them!” you find your mouth moving on its own, before your brain can catch up. When Snape turns to direct his scowl at you, its matched by your own as well as Lily’s disappointed frown. “They didn’t ask to be werewolves, they physically can’t help it! How would you feel if people wanted to kill you for not being able to control being such an arse.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Professor Marigold warns, setting her stern eyes on you. You’re not one for disrupting lessons or getting into trouble, so when Remus turns around to look at you with a raised eyebrow, your cheeks start to warm and you stubbornly don’t look his way again.

Snape ignores her to continue glaring at you. “I don’t have the capacity to kill people in a feral rage now, do I?” His gaze flits from you to Lily and Marlene and then lingers on the boys. “Of course, you’re defending werewolves. It’s no surprise considering who you choose to associate yourself with.”

“Mr Snape.”

“You have no need to fly into a feral rage to kill people,” you reply, voice steadily rising in volume. Sirius and James turn their heads back and forth like they’re watching a tennis match and you know the only reason they haven’t piped up to agree with you is because they’re too entertained watching the way you’re about to jump out of your seat to pounce on Snape. “All you need to do is show someone your face for them to die of fright–”

“ENOUGH!” Professor Marigold’s booming voice cuts through the laughter of everyone on the Gryffindor side of the classroom and when you turn to look at her, you see even Remus’ shoulders are shaking with silent laughter. You’re not sure why this pleases you, but it doesn’t last long enough for you to figure it out before Marigold waves her wand in the direction of the door and sends it flying open. “Both of you will wait for me outside the classroom until the lesson has finished so I can discuss your appalling behaviour.”

You gape at her for a second, before relenting and grabbing your bag, not wanting to argue with her authority. Your friends have different ideas.

“That’s not fair!” Marlene exclaims, standing up in protest. “She didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah,” James agrees, also standing up. “Snape’s the one who was being an annoying pri–”

“Sit down, everyone,” Marigold cuts him off, pursing her lips. “Everyone except Mr Snape and Miss Y/L/N. Do not even think about speaking Mr Black, or I won’t hesitate to suspend your and Mr Potter’s Quidditch privileges until further notice.”

Sirius shuts his mouth after a nudge from James and you shoot your friends a grateful smile before making your way out of the classroom, followed closely by Snape.

The door shuts behind him and you don’t bother sparing him a glance before dumping your bag on the ground and leaning against a wall to focus your gaze on a suit of armour for the next five minutes. You’re about half a minute in when you notice that one of the hands are slightly wonky and the classroom door suddenly opens.

Remus, of all people, enters the hallway to join the two of you and quickly shuts the door.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, furrowing your brows and getting up from against the wall.

“Yeah, what are you doing here?” Snape sneers at him, and you give him a scathing look before turning to Remus for an answer.

Remus pointedly ignores him to stand next to you against the brick wall. “I just pointed out to Professor Marigold that you both have your wands and she may not have two students left out here by the end of the lesson.”

“I can defend myself,” you snort, folding your arms. You aren’t sure if you’re annoyed that Remus is insinuating otherwise, or if you’re touched that he doesn’t want you to be hexed into oblivion by Snape. “Especially from him.”

“Oh, I know,” Remus raises both hands in surrender as his tone becomes grave. “It’s not you I’m worried about, trouble.”

“Ha ha,” you deadpan, rolling your eyes at the nickname. He started it around a year ago when you got your first ever detention for helping Sirius and James Charm the Slytherin chairs to throw them off every time someone sat. Your friends had kept quiet about your involvement, but Peeves had spotted you, the nosy bastard. The nickname stemmed from the fact it was the first time you had ever gotten into trouble and it never failed to irritate you. “You better be careful I don’t hex you.”

“I wouldn’t dream of annoying you,” he says, but the serious tone of voice is ruined by the way his lips are twitching in an attempt not to laugh at you. “After what happened when I said I didn’t like that one Jane Austen book? Forget it.”

“Hey, you insulted one of my favourite characters,” you point out, resting a hand on your hip. “What did Emma ever do to you? You had that hex coming.”

“I had pink hair for a week,” Remus narrows his eyes at you, but you can tell he isn’t really angry. Although he refuses to admit it, you know for a fact he didn’t hate the pink hair considering how good he looked with it. An annoying indiscretion on your part. Remus looks behind you for a split second before leaning in a little to whisper. “I won’t get in the way if you want to turn Snape’s hair pink, though. Preferably a very bright shade of flaming, hot pink.”

At risk of your own cheeks flaming up from how close he is – really, what’s the need? – you shake your head let your hair fall into your face. Almost having forgotten Snape is also there, you start when he scoffs (for what you think is the millionth time this afternoon) and you sigh before facing him begrudgingly. “What now?”

“Couldn’t handle the content of today’s lesson?” he asks, tiling his head. You’re about to ask him what the hell he’s talking about before you realise, he isn’t actually talking to you, but to the boy behind you.

“Uh…” you trail off, not sure how to respond. All three of you currently standing in the corridor know that Remus is smart enough to tackle any type of content, especially something as memorable and interesting as werewolves.

Remus’ amused demeanour has been wiped away and you can’t determine his exact expression, but his voice is cold when he talks to you. “Just ignore him.”

“You and your group of friends can’t help themselves when it comes to defending strays and all sorts,” Snape continues, much to your confusion. “It’s not enough that you’re a group full of blood-traitors and mudbloods…”

Remus tenses up behind you and you find yourself frozen for a second.

The next thing you know, you’re lunging at the greasy-haired Slytherin with every intention of hurting his face with your fists, wand long forgotten. Your fingers barely brush his robes, however, when you feel yourself being hauled back by strong arms that wrap around your middle.

“Let go!” you snarl, enjoying the way Snape has backed away, eyes wide and worried. “Did you hear what he said? Remus, let me go.”

He doesn’t relent, still holding onto you when he leans down to speak in your ear. “You’ve already gotten into trouble. You’ll get into a whole lot more when everyone walks out to see Snape with a black eye and you with bruised knuckles.”

“Worth it,” you grit out, still pulling away from his grip and throwing daggers with your eyes at Snape. After a few more seconds of pointless struggling, you relax very slightly just to turn in his arms so you can direct your next words to him more pointedly. “Not only is he a slimy, blood-supremacist twat, but he also wants to kill a poor bunch of werewolves. We should be throwing him into the bloody Black Lake!”

“I know, I-” Remus is cut off when the door opens and students start flooding into the corridor to provide a barrier between you and Snape, indicating the end of the lesson. Remus finally lets you go when he realises you’re in direct view of Professor Marigold who stands behind her desk, waiting for you. “I had no idea you were such an advocate for werewolves.”

It’s the last thing you expected him to say and you immediately look up at him and frown. “Again, they’re people. They don’t deserve to be victims of prejudice just as no one does.” He doesn’t respond, staring at you with an unreadable expression and a hint of a smile. Your frown deepens in confusion. Was he… laughing at you? Especially after you had just gotten along. “I’m so glad you find me amusing,” you say, scowling and storming back into the classroom and away from Remus.

3. when he's too good for flower crowns.

“Tell it again,” James insists, grin wide as ever plastered onto his face despite the withering look you send his way. “Getting a glimpse at even the possibility of Snivellus getting pummelled by Y/N would have made my entire year.”

“The galleons I’d give up to have been there,” Sirius releases a wistful sigh, closing his eyes as he lies down, facing the sun.

You hand him the daisy chain crown you just finished and he dutifully dons it. “I’ll alert the Ministry of Magic to order in a time-turner for an issue of utmost urgency,” you say sarcastically as you start on the next daisy chain. Sirius merely winks at you.

“I think you should’ve let her have at him, Remus,” Marlene states, unapologetic. You nod vehemently in agreement, a little too enthusiastically as you end up splitting a daisy down the middle.

Lily tuts, adjusting her own flower crown as it slips against her silky red hair. “I’m glad you didn’t. Godric knows what Professor Marigold would have done,” she shudders at the thought, ever the diligent student.

“Forget Marigold,” Peter chimes in. “Imagine what Professor McGonagall would have done.”

You don’t miss how he looks over his shoulder in case your head of house is taking a stroll along the grassy grounds.

“She would have combusted when you called him an ugly arse,” Remus pipes in, unhelpfully might you add, from where he sits slightly away from the group under a tree, reading.

The comment sends Marlene, Sirius and Peter into a fit of laughter – James is too busy staring at the way the sun is making Lily look ethereal and she’s too busy pretending not to notice while being secretly pleased. Doing a quick survey of your friends, you see everyone now has a flower crown except Remus. You make your way to the tree he’s resting against while the others chat, and sit yourself down with purpose.

Remus lowers his book very slightly to peer at you and your too-sweet smile. He raises a sceptical brow. “Should I be scared right now?”

You drop the fake smile and hold up your flower crown expectantly. “Everyone has one, but you.”

“How observant,” he says, setting his book down to look at you in mock astonishment. “Have the Aurors at the Ministry caught wind of you yet?”

“Don’t be a pain,” you groan, dropping it onto his open book. “I want everyone to wear one for the picture!”

Remus sighs, looking at the large camera over by your bag. You had saved up all summer to buy a magical camera to be able to take pictures of you and your friends in your final year at Hogwarts. The time you used your own muggle camera was a disaster of sparks and broken bits of plastic that took hours to mend. “I already agreed to your incessant picture-taking,” he reminds you, acting like it’s the most painful thing in the world. “The flower crown is not happening.”

“Fine, you miserable git,” you flick a handful of grass at him, sending him sputtering. “Now come and sit for the photo.”

You return to the group with Remus behind you and get everyone in position before hunting down someone to take the photo. Glancing around, you spot a close bunch of first-years and send Lily to use her Head Girl credentials (and warm and inviting personality, of course) to rope one of them into coming over.

“Okay, smile everyone,” you order, plopping down on the grass next to James. You elbow him in the ribs, not even having to look at him to know what he’s doing. “Stop looking at Lily and look at the camera.”

With a couple of mutterings and some nudging, the nervous first-year Hufflepuff girl shakily takes the picture and hurriedly hands you the camera in the middle of the picture sliding out of it. James and Sirius go back to playing with a golden Snitch while Peter watches, while Remus returns to his book.

Lily looks at the picture and coos over how cute everyone looks at the same time as Marlene complaining about her hair. You impatiently take the picture back to slide it into your photo album and something catches your eye.

Sirius is making a peace sign behind Remus’ head. His head that wears a flower crown.

4. when he bleeds out on you.

You’re not sure what time it is – either very late at night, or very early in the morning. You do know, however, that you want to finish your Herbology essay so you can enjoy tomorrow (or today) and cheer your friends on in the Gryffindor vs Ravenclaw Quidditch game. You only have the conclusion left and you’re confident it’ll be done in the next ten minutes.

If you can find your damned quill, that is. You could have sworn you had it ten minutes ago, just before you snuck down to the kitchens to persuade the house-elves to give you the strongest cup of coffee they could make. You take a quick sip and grimace at the lukewarm temperature before setting it down and getting up to search. After turning every sofa cushion upside down, you go to crouch behind the sofa.

You hear the door to the common room being swung open and the hushed voices of the Marauders enter, but you don’t take too much notice as you squint for your quill. It isn’t unusual for the boys to be roaming around the castle at odd hours of the night, but a hiss of pain grabs your attention at the same time you spot the quill.

“Can you guys manage taking him up to the-” Sirius cuts himself off when your face pops up from behind the sofa. He freezes in his efforts to hold up Remus, who you notice is leaning on him and James and Merlin’s balls he’s covered in blood.

“What the fuck happened to him?” Your voice comes out weak as you walk over to the boys. Remus has deep, bleeding slashes over his chest and an assortment of little cuts on his face and hands. He seems barely able to keep his eyes open but when his gaze meets yours, he winces. He isn’t the only one hurt and you realise Sirius’ arm is damp with blood and trembling, the same going for James’ thigh. “What the fuck happened to all of you, oh my God…?”

“Peter, you were supposed to keep watch,” James hisses at the boy who looks like a deer in headlights. He looks a lot better than the others, with only a couple of small cuts scattered around his face and arms.

“She was behind the sofa!”

James’ leg buckles and you snap out of your state of shock to dart forward and keep him steady. “Right. Shit, okay,” you breathe out, holding off asking any questions to prevent anyone from bleeding out. “James, Sirius, set Remus down on the sofa and take off his shirt. Peter, help these two up the stairs and go find a first-aid kit or something.”

“We’ve got a couple in the dorm,” Sirius says, summoning one of them down with a quick Accio and handing it to you. He hesitates for a second, probably unsure if he should stay and explain things, before deciding to turn in the direction of the stairs with James as Peter rushes to help them up. “Look after him, please. We’ll be right back, Moony.”

“Take your time, I’ve got him,” you utter, already fiddling with the first-aid box and trying to open it with shaky hands. You’re no healer, but you know enough to panic when you see Remus has had his eyes closed for the last few seconds. “Remus, keep your eyes open!”

He groans, cracking one eye open to look at you. “I’m injured and bleeding out and you still manage to yell at me.”

“I wasn’t yelling,” you frown, unscrewing the bottle of dittany and scrambling for the cotton pads. You try to avoid Remus’ gaze because you feel extremely silly about being more panicked than him when he’s the one with claw marks down his chest. “Don’t move, or it’ll hurt.”

While dabbing the liquid onto the deep gashes in an attempt to close them up, you ponder on the fact that he probably knows it hurts from experience. You’re not completely clueless.

“What are you thinking?” Remus whispers in the stifling quiet of the common room, looking unsure.

You don’t cease in your movements, changing cotton pad after cotton pad. It takes you a minute to muster up the courage to meet Remus’ gaze again and this time he looks more nervous than you’ve ever seen him. “You’re a werewolf, aren’t you?”

Remus gives you an almost imperceptible nod, like he doesn’t want to admit to it. You take a deep breath.

“Who else knows?” you ask calmly, as if you’re asking him about the weather.

“The boys and Lily,” he admits, swallowing hard. “Oh, and Snape.”

“Snape?” you exclaim, halting your dabbing to gawp at Remus. “I’m not saying you had to tell me or anything, but Snape?”

 Remus winces and you don’t think it has anything to do with his injuries. “In my defence he found out on his own and hates me for it,” he rushes out. “And it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you… I-”

“It’s fine,” you cut him off, waving him off and wondering how good you’re hiding the fact you’re a little hurt. “You didn’t have to tell me.”

“No, I wanted to. I did,” Remus insists, looking earnest. There’s something in his voice that’s a little pained and desperate that has you meeting his eyes. “I just couldn’t have dealt with it if you started looking at me differently. The boys and Lily sometimes do, y’know? Like I’m made of glass or something. It’s refreshing whenever you scowl at me or call me an idiot or an arse or a stupid gi-”

“Okay,” you stop him, stifling a grin. “I get it!”

Remus’ eyes flash with relief for a second before you notice doubt start to creep in again. “You don’t need to hide it, by the way. I won’t hold it against you if… If you’re scared or disgusted, or-”

“What?” you cut him off again and scrunch your nose in confusion. “I’m not scared or disgusted. Why would you think that?”

“You’ve been a bit too calm,” he points out.

Rolling your eyes, you grab a bandage to start patching up the worst of the injuries before you move onto the minor cuts and bruises. “I didn’t want you to think I was freaking out, or looking at you differently,” you quote his own words to him with a pointed look, making him smile again. “I don’t, you know. Think of you any differently, I mean.”

His expression is unreadable as he just looks at you and you just look at him, bandage hovering over his chest before his fingers come up to brush the back of your hand. He lightly holds your hand, softly running his thumb over your knuckle as his voice drops to a whisper again. “Thank you.”

You offer him a gentle smile, holding his gaze for a second longer before focusing on bandaging him up again. His hand drops to the side and you oddly find yourself missing his warmth. The large bandage adheres to his skin and you run your fingers along the sides to stick them down, feeling him shudder under your touch.

You quickly busy yourself with looking for more supplies in the kit to hide the way your own breathing has increased slightly. “Hey, anyway, I almost walloped Snape right in the eye for you. If that wasn’t any indication of my standing on werewolves, I don’t know what is.”

“Ah, my knight in shining armour,” Remus chuckles before breaking into a wheeze as the muscles of his injured abdomen contract. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Don’t laugh at me then!”

5. when you’re definitely not jealous… you’re not!

Three cups of coffee. You’re on three cups of coffee. It’s also the same number of hours you’ve slept and by Godric can you feel it in every inch of your body as the muted chatter of the Great Hall buzzes around you. Your head is in your hands as you contemplate stealing some Polyjuice potion and bribing a first-year to take a dose with your hair in it so you can go to bed and they can pretend to watch the Quidditch match.

You knock back the last sip of coffee when you sense a presence sliding onto the bench in front of you. Groggily setting the cup down, you see that its Remus. It takes a second to remember why this is concerning.

“Morning, h- Wait, what the hell are you doing out of bed?” you hiss, leaning forward to avoid anyone listening in. You scan your eyes over his chest, two seconds away from ripping his shirt off to check his bandages. “How are you even standing?”

“Relax, Florence Nightingale,” Remus says, rolling his eyes at your dramatics. He does his own quick sweep of the table and sees that most people are out in the Quidditch stands already, so he proceeds to pull the neckline of his shirt down slightly to reveal an already fading scar. No bleeding in sight. “I went to Madame Pomfrey with the boys this morning and she hurried up the process like she usually does. I feel achier than a 90-year-old woman with a metal hip, but the brunt of it is gone and Pads and Prongs are good as new.”

“Okay,” you say slowly, narrowing your eyes slightly. “If you’re sure you can sit out in the stands…”

“I can once I’ve consumed every cup of tea on the premises,” he says, reaching for the teapot. An annoyingly smug smirk starts to appear on his face while he pours. “What, are you worried about me, trouble?”

You scowl instantly. “No, I just don’t want you collapsing on me in the Quidditch stands while I’m cheering the boys on.”

“Right.” He hides his grin behind his cup of tea.

“Hey,” you mumble, nodding to Patricia Holloway who looks like she’s making a beeline to your table. More specifically, towards Remus. “Bright and cheery Hufflepuff incoming.”

“Merlin, it’s too early for this,” Remus whispers, taking another sip of tea before his face breaks out into a charming smile directed at the girl who slides into the empty seat next to him. “Morning, Patricia.”

“You look good today, Remus,” Patricia rests her elbow on the table and tilts her head to look at him with simpering eyes. It’s no secret Remus is good-looking and you’ve heard a million girls talk about him before. You’ve never seen any of them approach him yourself, though. You can’t say you enjoy it. “Are you… okay, Y/N?”

You didn’t realise you were scowling until she addresses you and you rapidly smooth out your expression, clearing your throat. Remus looks amused, which makes it harder to keep the scowl off your face. “Fine! I’m fine, just a bit confused since Remus looks half asleep,” you attempt a laugh through gritted teeth and are spurred on when Remus is actively trying to fight a grin. “And his hair currently makes him look like he’s been dragged through the Forbidden Forest.”

He can’t stop himself snorting at that, but Patricia just looks confused as though unsure how to react. She settles on a nervous little laugh, turning back to him. “I can fix that for you, here,” she says, scooting closer and starts to run her hands through Remus’ hair. You poke your cheek with your tongue, marvelling at how bold she’s being and how Remus is just sat there, still looking amused as ever. “There, what do you think?”

“A hairbrush couldn’t have done a better job,” you deadpan, softening your expression slightly when Patricia begins to look a little disconcerted. “You keep doing that, I’m going to head off to the Quidditch field.”

You all but storm out of the Great Hall, exhaustion having left you completely. It’s replaced by a newfound whirl of irritation that pools in your stomach and creeps up your throat, making you feel a little sick. It must be the coffee, you think, and you’re trying to remember if the beverage has ever made you experience this when all of a sudden there’s a hand circling your wrist.

“Stop, Y/N,” Remus says, a little breathless. You didn’t realise he’d run out after you and you feel bad about his injuries before your gaze snags on his newly tousled hair. “Godric, you walk fast.”

“I didn’t ask you to catch up to me,” you snap, purposely scowling this time. The cheeky bastard still looks amused and your irritation is growing faster than ever. “Besides, the match doesn’t start for another fifteen minutes. Plenty of time for Patricia to give you a whole new hairdo. Maybe she can give you plaits or– Why are you laughing.”

“You’re jealous,” he exhales with a smile, sounding positively delighted. Any feelings of concern have disappeared and are being rapidly replaced with wanting to thwack him upside the head. “Oh my God, you really are jealous.”

“Jealous, my arse,” you scoff, turning your back to him with every intention of speed walking out of the castle. His long legs keep up with you easily and he rushes in front of you to stop you going anywhere. You glare at him. “Leave me alone, Lupin.”

“Not until you admit that you’re jealous.” Remus is positively giddy with glee and you feel a flush of heat crawling up your neck. You set your jaw stubbornly and he’s incredulous as he shakes his head. “Merlin, you really have to argue with me on everything don’t you? I don’t care about Patricia Holloway and I’m glad you’re jealous. Means you’re less likely to break my nose when I kiss you.”

You barely get the chance to make an incoherent noise when Remus grabs you by the waist and presses his lips against yours, kissing you like he isn’t prepared to let you go anytime soon. His mouth slides hot and wet against your own and you gasp into the kiss when he nips lightly at your lip, your hands coming up to slide into his hair, making it unruly all over again.

Remus is the first to break apart, too soon, and you physically restrain yourself from chasing after his lips. He pulls back slightly, breathing fast to look into your eyes, searching for the answer you’re unable to speak yet.

“You… uh, I-I’m…” you trail off, dazed and breathless and head swirling with every emotion under the sun.

Remus laughs, pulling you impossibly close and leaving a soft kiss on your jaw, which doesn’t help your current speech issues. “If I knew that was all it took to shut you up, I’d have kissed you years ago.”

“Wha-!” You slap his arm, snapping out of the haze. You hide your current uncertainty behind a glare. It hit you like a ton of bricks, but you realised about five seconds into the kiss that you wanted Remus Lupin in every way, shape and form. You’re more than a little terrified, so what better defence mechanism than anger? “Why did you actually kiss me, you prick?”

“You are the densest, most clueless,” Remus begins, pausing to kiss you lightly a couple times when you start to scowl. “Most stubborn and most beautiful little witch I’ve ever known. And if you haven’t figured out after almost seven years that I love you, then I’m afraid we might have to admit you to St Mungo’s, because really-”

“Stop,” you whisper, lifting a finger to press against his lips, effectively silencing him. “You love me? You actually, seriously love me?”

He rolls his eyes and nods, like it’s obvious or something. You huff. “Then why have you been such an annoying pain in my bloody arse, Remus Lupin?!”

“Because,” he says, the word coming out muffled and you hastily remove your finger. “It was a good way to keep your attention. Plus, I like when you’re angry. It’s cute.”

You scowl without thinking and his smile impossibly widens.

“See?”

“Shut up and kiss me again,” you say dryly, pulling him in by the collar to give him a short, searing kiss. “Oh, and I guess I love you too.”

“So, no broken noses in my future?” Remus asks hopefully, softly sliding his nose against yours.

“No promises.”

© angelfic 2023.

[cheolhub]

BABY FEVER — CHOI SEUNGCHEOL ࿐

summary. after a picnic date at the park goes horribly wrong, all choi seungcheol wants for his birthday is to fuck a baby into you.

wc. 3.4k+

warnings. established relationship, kinda ? dom!cheol, f. reader, pussy-drunk-bitch-in-heat cheol, breeding kink, literal baby making, marriage kink if you squint, reader referred to as mommy (x2), unprotected sex, oral (f. receiving), light body worship (f. receiving), vulgar language… heavy praise, pet names [baby, angel, princess] — MINORS DNI 18+

note. it’s an international holiday (aka cheol day) hehehe HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY LVRBOY <333 forgive me bc this is actually so rough… i forced myself to finish it in time for his bday 😍 please be gentle!! i promise ill make it up to all of u with a MUCH better cheol fic -3- happy coupsie day 2 u all x (thank yew @jeonghantis for reading this for me TWICE and always encouraging me <3)

you have to admit, this is not how you thought seungcheol’s birthday lunch would pan out. 

no, you definitely did not expect to end the day with your legs wrapped around your beloved boyfriend’s waist while he split you open on his cock, breathily promising that he’ll give you a baby. a ring. a life for the both of you.

because when you took said boyfriend out for a picnic in the park, you did expect a serene lunch date with him and his favorite food. you even wore the sundress he bought for your birthday. it was supposed to be the perfect gift. 

but you hadn’t realized how busy it’d be. how could you have known? it was just a random tuesday afternoon in the midst of august– arguably the hottest month of the year. who, besides the two of you, would want to be out on a day like this?

rowdy, unrestrained children. that’s who. 

it seems that children and parents have nothing better to do than crash birthdays and cause you massive headaches. 

when you looked over at seungcheol on the blanket halfway through your food, you discerned the faraway look in his eyes. he hasn’t said much. much less of how he feels about his “gift.” he wasn’t there– probably disassociated because of the noise. you realized then that you probably should’ve picked a different spot… or stuck to the homemade candlelit dinner you had initially planned. or done literally anything else. 

“cheollie… do you wanna leave?” you asked, concern laced in your voice. “we don’t have to stay, we can go home and do whatever you want.”

his jaw clenched and unclenched at the sound of your voice. he offered a shuddered breath and gave you a curt nod. “yeah, let’s go home.” 

and so you did. you felt defeated as seungcheol bruisingly gripped the steering wheel the entire ride home. you felt defeated as you sat in the passenger seat thinking of ways to fix his now-ruined birthday. you felt defeated as you two rode away in silence. complete silence. 

when you arrive back at your home, you dejectedly drop the basket off in the kitchen without bothering to unpack it. cheol stays on your tail the entire time, following you back to your room after throwing the keys on the island next to the picnic basket. 

and when you reach your destination, you let him in before closing the door behind you and then he pounces.  he has you pinned to said door in an instant. 

completely thrown off by his change in behavior, you splutter out, “ch-cheol, what the fuck?!”

“baby,” he mutters breathily, his eyes scanning your features. the faraway look in his eyes has been replaced, both of them filled with something completely different. lust. it’s like the last hour never even happened.

he has you caged in. one of hands pressed flat against the door and the other gripping your waist. there’s a mere inch of a gap separating the two of you and you can feel all the heat radiating off of his body. 

still wide-eyed, staring up at him, you softly– apprehensively– ask, “cheol? are you okay?” 

admittedly, seungcheol is not okay. not in the slightest. he doesn’t want to scare you, but watching kids run around– hearing how happy they were– had him thinking thoughts. thoughts of having a kid of his own. 

it had his heart fluttering at first, the idea of having a mini him running around the house. it filled him with the utmost joy.

then his thoughts escalated. thoughts of having a kid turned into thoughts of having a kid with you. thoughts of getting you round and pregnant with his child rotted large portions of his brain away.

and it progressively got worse and worse. with every passing minute, the images in his brain became more clear till the only thing on his mind was folding you in half and fucking a baby into you while you begged for it. 

he’s not sure how to relay said thoughts to you. the two of you have been dating for years and you’re in a really good place, both financially and emotionally.

but dropping the ‘i want a kid’ bomb? before he’s even proposed? it’s taboo…untraditional… it’s something you potentially don’t even want, so he should ease into the conversation of children and marriage.

but…choi seungcheol thinks he’s lost the ability to think and speak clearly. that’s why he blurts it out without logically thinking it over, lost in a haze of lust and need and burning hot desire. 

“wanna have a baby,” 

your stomach drops and the air in your lungs vanishes, leaving you breathless.

“w-what…cheol? a baby?” you ask slowly. “you… wanna have a baby?” 

a small growl bubbles in his chest when you repeat his words. “wanna give you a baby.” 

heat creeps up your neck and within seconds– when you realize the intent of his words– your entire body burns as arousal courses through your veins. seungcheol doesn’t just want to have a kid… he wants to fuck one into you. 

you can’t say you’ve never thought of having one before, but it was always farther down the line. after marriage and settling down.

even still, your stomach swirls in anticipation, imagining seungcheol as a father. as your husband. 

so you reply, “do… do you think we’re ready for that? we’re still pretty young and… we aren’t married…”

your words trail off and you look away, eyes trained on his chest instead. 

“i’m gonna marry you.” he says as a matter of factly. “look at me.” he demands, the hand next to your head moves to grip your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “there’s no doubt in my mind. i’m going to marry you, baby.”

hearing that is surreal. he’s said it twice and the words are still rattling around in your empty brain. he’s gonna marry you. there’s no doubt in his mind. 

you’d think your heart is about to lurch out of your chest the way it pounds against your ribcage. your palms are dripping with sweat, your knees are buckling about ready to give out on you, your stomach is in knots because, fuck yes, you want this. you want him. and– you guessed it– you want to bear his child. 

you don’t know how long you’ve been standing, blankly staring at him. before you can even speak up, seungcheol is dropping to his knees in front of you, both of his hands on your waist now.

you almost think he’s going to propose, leaving you even more speechless, but he leaves a soft kiss on your tummy. he’s gentle, kissing you through the fabric of your dress right above your navel. his lips venture down, though, and his pleading eyes look up at you waiting for your okay. 

you let out the breath you were holding, nodding your head.

and cheol swears he would lose it if he hadn’t already. 

he reaches for your panties under your dress, yanking them off your body and letting them pool at your feet. his hand moves to hold your dress up, wrinkling it in his grip. the other lifts one of your legs and drapes it over his shoulder before he finally dives into your cunt.

“cheol!” you gasp as you feel his tongue lay flat against your folds. your hands thread through his hair, gripping at his locks as he laps up your arousal. “sl-slow– fuck, baby– slow down,”

seungcheol is a giver, that’s always been common knowledge.

but you tend to forget that he is exceptionally greedy when it comes to eating you out. he can never get enough of you, slurping at your hole and sucking your clit till you’ve cum countless times on his face. a glutton for pussy, you could say.

it’s why he can’t slow down despite your request. his tongue digs into you while he noses at your clit, moaning against your cunt to bring you closer to the euphoric feeling you’ve been craving since he asked to fuck a baby into you. 

and it works. it always does. your moaning and whining and begging and it’s fucking music to his ears. 

“tastes so good, angel,” he moans against you, words coming out muffled. the vibrations shock your body and you can’t help but jolt, back arching off the door. your hands tighten their grip on his hair, pushing him further into your cunt. 

and that’s the thing about seungcheol being insatiable. you always end up greedier than him. it’s like an orchestrated plan. 

“more,” you beg through a whine, grinding your pussy into his face. “please more, feels s’good, cheollie,” 

he groans against you again, digging his nails into your thigh eliciting your pretty mewls. he tightly wraps his lips around your clit, flicking the swollen bud with his tongue. you throw your head back against the door, eyebrows knitting together as you’re overcome with pleasure. 

it hits you before you can even blink. you’re letting out a breathless mantra of seungcheol’s name, your stomach knots up, your breathing increases and you completely lose control as you let go all over his face. 

he keeps eating you out, whining while lapping up your release as if he’d been deprived of the taste of your cum for weeks. as if he hadn’t eaten you out just last night. and the morning before that. and three times in a row the day before.

when he’s finally done, he gently sets your leg back down. he observes the way you tremble, struggling to keep balance so his hands are back on your waist, releasing the wrinkled fabric and letting it fall back over your legs.

he stands to his feet, towering over you once again. his hard cock strains in his jeans and he gives you a look that screams ‘i need you’ to which you look up at him with hooded eyes. the sheen of your arousal on his skin, his disheveled hair is quite the sight.

“baby…” he pants, inching closer to you. 

“put one in me,” you whisper. you, too, have no doubt in your mind about this. about him. you want everything he’s offering to you. “fuck a baby into me, cheol, i want it. i want you.”

seungcheol thinks his life flashes before his eyes when he hears your words. he thinks, maybe, he mishears you for a second, but when you keep that expectant look on your face, he knows that this is very real. that he’s gonna fuck you full of cum and pray it takes. 

he closes the gap between you, pressing his lips against yours.

it’s not your average kiss. it’s hot and heavy and, fuck, you think he just might eat you alive. his body is flush against yours now and you feel his bulge digging into your tummy. 

feeling him like this has you craving the weight of his cock on your tongue, but you know cheol has no plan of relinquishing any type of control tonight. even if it does mean he’s missing out on the world’s best head.

you kick off your shoes and fumble with the button on his jeans while whining into his mouth. you eventually give up after the button doesn’t budge, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinding against his clothed bulge instead, basking in the way he groans back into your mouth.

he pulls back, swollen lips turning down in a cute pout, “baby, need to fuck you right now…”

you tug at his shirt, whispering, “then fuck me, cheol.” 

a guttural groan bubbles in the back of his throat. he pulls your dress up by the hem, growling a soft, “off.” 

“you first.” 

he raises an eyebrow at you but doesn’t say anything else, tugging his shirt over his head and tossing it on to the ground. his hands are back on your dress, but you shake your head. 

“pants, too,” you whisper with a cheeky smile. 

“didn’t realize this was a strip tease,” he grumbles passively, stepping out of his shoes while his hands easily pop the button of his jeans and yanking them down his thick thighs. 

your eyes flit down to his boxers and your saliva pools in your mouth, threatening to spill past your lips at the mere sight of his clothed hard-on. 

he interrupts your gawking, gruff, stern voice filling your ears, “take your fucking dress off.”

you giggle, raising your arms. he’s not slow and he’s most certainly not gentle when he practically rips the dress up and off, discarding it into the pile of clothes that lay haphazardly on the floor.

he doesn’t even give you a second before grabbing– manhandling– you and guiding you to the bed. 

he lays you down and internally melts. “you’re so gorgeous, baby,” he mumbles, spreading your legs open and eyeing your pulsing cunt. “you’re perfect.”

you don’t know how it’s possible at this point, but you grow even hotter. feverish. you always love his praise and you know he’s well-aware of the fact because he smirks as you squirm and clench around nothing. 

“cheollie,” you whimper. 

his hands splay over your bare stomach and his cock throbs as an array of dirty thoughts re-enter his mind. 

“you’re gonna look so cute when i put a baby in you, isn’t that right?” he murmurs, hands ghosting over your skin before they land on your tits, fondling them through your bra without a care in the world. “gonna be such a pretty mommy…” he tells you, voice dropping an octave. 

you moan at the contact and his promiscuous words. arousal drools from your hole, surely soaking a puddle into the sheets under you. you’re not sure how much longer you can wait for him to impale you on his cock before you become a weeping mess. 

you whine, eyes threatening to close, “please make me a mommy, cheollie.”

seungcheol lets out a sharp breath, quickly removing his hands from your tits, opting on using them to push his boxers down. 

when his length slaps against his abdomen, he lets out a soft groan. he doesn’t wait for anything else, grabbing his cock, spitting on it, stroking it a few times and, finally, pushing his angry red tip against your hole. 

when the head of his cock gets trapped between the warm walls of your cunt, seungcheol curses. “tightest fuckin’ thing,” he mutters, shoving himself deeper and deeper, listening to your high-pitched whines and whimpers. 

and when he’s finally balls deep inside of you, his eyes flicker up from your pussy swallowing him whole to your contorted, fucked out face that he loves dearly. 

he’s breathless, asking, “you good, baby?”

you offer a broken nod and a weak, “s’good.”

it’s all he needs to hear before standing all the way up on his knees, grasping at your waist, and lifting your lower back off the bed. 

you squeal, “cheol! what are you–” 

you’re cut off by your own yelp when he pulls out and slams back into you without much of a warning. his cock reaches deeper than you think you’ve ever felt and it has your eyes rolling back and your hands pulling the sheets off the bed. 

his hips are relentless, continuously driving his cock in and out of you at an impressive speed while groaning out words of praise. you feel his tip bruisingly kiss your cervix and the pained pleasure brings tears to your eyes. 

“s-seungcheol–” you sob, arching further into the air. 

“i know, baby,” he moans in response. “but, fuck, you’re taking it so well. look so fucking pretty taking my cock like this.” he wants to throw his head back in pleasure, but he can’t bear to tear his eyes away from you. 

tears helplessly fall down the sides of your face and your mouth is cracked open, letting out the most gorgeous sounds. your tits spill from your bra, bouncing with every thrust and it’s too good. you look too fucking good. 

and you’re going to look even better with his cum leaking out of your cunt. 

you ache with the partial bridge seungcheol has you in. you’re not sure if you want to focus on the profound pain or intense pleasure, but when he drops your body back on the bed and his thumb catches your clit, you have no other choice. 

you gasp, crying out and clamping around him with an iron grip, “fuh-fuck! cheol– cheollie!”

he growls, rubbing the sensitive bud faster and faster. “you gonna cum for me?”

you pant, chest heaving as you nod your head vigorously. your eyes screw shut and your jaw drops further as you feel the familiar knotting in your tummy. your impending orgasm bubbles in the pit of your belly, a stream of whines and moans leaving your mouth. 

“cum f’me, angel.” he coaxes breathily, cock twitching and throbbing inside of you. “s’gonna feel so good, just cum for me.” he practically begs and you think it’s because he’s just as close. 

you can’t even find it in you to care because the onslaught of pleasure wracks your body. you clench around him once, twice, three times– and, before you know it, the knots in your tummy come completely undone and you’re left a shaking mess under him.

“that’s it, that’s my fucking girl.” he nearly whines, fucking you through your orgasm while you jerk and thrash on the bed. “god, i love this pussy, your body, everything, baby– i love you.”

you cry, silently praying he’ll press his lips against yours because, god, you love him, too. so much. but your voice is hoarse and you don’t think you can conjure up the words to give him. 

it’s like he reads your mind, slipping his hand in between your tits and pulling your body up by the material of your bra and wraps his arms around your body. his mouth presses against yours, swallowing all of your sounds as you swallow his. 

your arms wrap around his neck, sobbing in overstimulation as he kisses the life out of you.  when he pulls away, you wrap your legs around his waist, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back. you continue to whine, burying your face into his sweaty neck to muffle the noises. 

he holds you tighter, pounding into you without any regard to your sounds. “gonna fill you up, princess. gonna fuck you full of my cum, give you a baby, marry you,” he grunts loudly. “everything. gonna– fuck– gonna give you everything.”

you nod, sinking your teeth into his neck. 

and seungcheol can’t hold back, moaning your name before pressing his cock as far as he can go and stilling there. ribbons of his release coat your bruised walls and you feel the warmth radiate throughout your body. 

cheol’s pants slowly morph into breathy chuckles as he comes to terms with what he’s done. 

you shudder, feeling full in more ways than one. you pull your head from the crook of his neck, looking at his gummy grin and dazed eyes and you give him a lopsided grin. you look so content, even after he nearly fucked the life out of you. 

“was it too much?” he asks gently after a few minutes of silently staring at each other.

“a lil…” you whisper, weakly clamping around him. “you know i love it when you get like this, though.”

“i know.” he mumbles, unraveling himself from you to marvel at his work. he pulls out of you and watches the way his cum slowly dribbles out of your hole. he can’t help but groan at the sight. “you think this’ll be enough, angel?”

“a few more rounds probably wouldn’t hurt.” you giggle. 

“that can probably be arranged.” he hums cheekily. “but, seriously, baby. thank you… for today. you always know how to surprise me.”

“really? i kinda… thought you hated the whole picnic lunch date,” you murmur. “thought i ruined your day.”

“no, baby, i loved it.” he says through a smile, kissing the corner of your mouth. “it was great, i swear… i just thought about fucking a baby into you a little too hard.”

“i’m really glad.” you smile, “and, now that you hopefully did… how would you rate year 28?”

“10/10. truly the best birthday ever.” he says. “i got everything i ever wanted.”

© cheolhub — all rights reserved, please refrain from copying, reposting, modifying or translating my work on any platform.

[brokenmenswhore]

Hiii could I please request a fic where the reader is married to Aegon, she's pregnant for the first time and super insecure about her body until she realises her husband is completely in awe of her and he says he looks like a goddess to her, also he's super cute and happy about becoming a father? 😭 Ofc some smut would be highly appreciated I love how you write it!

Thank youuu

i hate kids so i hope this is ok lollll

heavenly | aegon ii targaryen

pairing: aegon targaryen x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), a lil fluffy

────── ☾ ──────

All you and Aegon wanted was to be parents.

It was your duty to provide your husband with heirs, so when you were a child, pregnancy seemed like a burden. It seemed like something you couldn’t avoid- your only purpose in life.

However, as you got older and your siblings began to give birth, you discovered your love for children. You found yourself wanting one, and excited for the possibility of having one when your betrothal to Aegon was announced.

Aegon was never the father-figure type. He was immature even as he aged, and often ran from responsibility as opposed to toward it.

When you fell pregnant, you were nervous about Aegon’s reaction. He seemed somewhat excited, but not as excited as you, and that worried you. Would he truly be committed to raising this child?

On top of your doubts, you watched your body stretch and grow as the fetus grew within you.

On one hand, you knew it was a beautiful thing. It was your body making room for a wonderful new addition to your family, something half you and half the man you loved.

On the other hand, you didn’t look the same as you had when Aegon first bed you. All the things he said he loved, all the aspects of your body he said he adored- everything was changing. You began to grow nervous that Aegon wouldn’t see you the same, now that you didn’t look the same.

Your husband would enter your shared chambers just as your handmaidens were beginning to undress or redress you for the night, and you would instinctively turn away. The nightdresses you used to love for their lewdness, and he used to love as well, were put aside for those with ample coverage, hiding you from your husband.

You assumed Aegon appreciated the changes, because he never mentioned them. He would watch you waltz over to bed, and would scan you up and down, but would never comment on your appearance- not your body, nor your clothing, nor your ever-growing bump.

He would watch you until you were sat beside him, but never spoke. You assumed he also detested the changes you were undergoing, otherwise he would be all over you as he used to be.

Halfway through your term, you were more hormonal than you could handle, and the lack of attention from your husband began to bother you. Were you truly in this alone?

You plopped down in bed beside him with a huff. “Aegon?”

“Yes, my love?” he responded.

Your frustration immediately turned to sadness and concern as you heard his voice. “I know I no longer appeal to you, now that I am with child, but I would appreciate some validation that I am not in this alone.”

Aegon gave you a worried look, giving you his full attention. “Have I done something?”

You just began to cry.

“Tell me what’s wrong, please,” Aegon said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

“My body is different. It’s not the body you wanted.” You could barely get the words out, your voice cracking as you spoke in a small near-whisper.

“I-“

You cut Aegon off, “I’m scared you won’t want me anymore, and that I will be raising this child alone.”

Aegon completely turned his body toward you, rubbing your upper arm as he spoke, “you truly think I would do such a thing to you?”

“No, I just- I’m scared.”

Aegon sighed. “I wish you knew how beautiful you look carrying my child.”

“What?”

“From the moment we learnt of your pregnancy, you’ve glown,” he said, “to me, you are an absolute goddess.”

“But-“

“I want nothing more than to become a father, and it is a large benefit that I get to do as such with you. You’ve seemingly changed, and I’ve admittedly been nervous that you are uninterested in parenthood.”

“I have merely been nervous about the same regarding you. You have not lost your interest in me?” you asked, gazing up at him through glassy eyes.

“I am as in awe of you as I was the day I met you.”

You desperately needed to hear those words. You smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. When you pulled away, Aegon gave you one of the biggest smiles you’ve ever seen. “I’m going to be a father,” he said, his smile growing even bigger after he spoke.

You smiled back at him, a tear running down your cheek that he wiped away with his thumb, caressing your face while he was there.

“Another thing about pregnancy,” he said, “is it makes you look so fucking beautiful.”

He leaned down to press a kiss on your cheek, then your jaw, then the side of your neck.

“Aegon-“

“Sh, I won’t hurt the baby,” he whispered, continuing to kiss and suck on the skin of your neck.

“Will this not be uncomfortable?”

Aegon pulled away for a brief moment to catch your gaze. “If it is, you tell me immediately, and we stop, okay?”

You nodded your head yes in understanding as Aegon pushed your nightdress up your legs, gently pulling the fabric over your small bump, gazing down to admire it once it was exposed.

You became self conscious, your arms instinctively wrapping around your stomach. Aegon grabbed your wrists and unraveled your arms. “Relax, my love, you’re beautiful.”

You blushed at his words. The sight made his heart swell; even after courtship, marriage, and impregnation, a simple compliment from him still made you blush.

Aegon took a moment to free himself from the confines of his clothes, settling on his knees between your legs as he gave his cock a few strokes with his hand, leaning down to kiss you as he did so.

He lined his cock up with your entrance, watching as the length disappeared inside of you. You threw your head back against the pillows.

“Seven hells, I missed you,” Aegon said, breathy and erratic.

You leaned up and kissed him as he began to fuck into you, moving slowly in fear of hurting you.

The stimulation was a bit different, and you were whining and writhing beneath him from even just a slow pace.

You whimpered into the kiss, and Aegon pulled away. “You alright?”

“Mhm,” you moaned.

Aegon tested the waters and began to move a bit faster, watching your face contort as he picked up the pace. His eyes drifted down your body, landing on the swelling in your stomach. He watched as it shifted upward ever so slightly, almost unnoticeably, with each thrust of his hips.

He bowed his head, his self control fading. Watching you squirm beneath him, his cock inside of you, and his seed already deep within you, was everything he wanted and more.

Aegon began to move even faster, and you let out a high-pitched gasp.

“Are you okay?” he checked in.

“I’m okay,” you strained, “just a lot.”

“Do you need me to slow down?”

You nodded your head no. It was slightly uncomfortable, but you needed Aegon bad, and you didn’t want him to stop.

Regardless, Aegon still slowed down a little, nervous that he was hurting you. It didn’t affect his pleasure, though, as he was still finding himself on the brink of coming. He refused to, however, until you did first.

He fought back his climax, keeping up his pace as he focused on bringing you to the brink. One of his hands found your clit, rubbing soft circles as he fucked into you. Your back arched off the bed, which only made your stomach hurt, so you dropped it again, and the feeling made your walls squeeze around Aegon’s cock.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, rubbing faster and faster as he kept up his rhythm in and out of you.

You were coming in just a few moments, the feeling driving Aegon over the edge. He quickly pulled out of you, desperate to see his seed on your bump as he released onto your stomach.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath at the sight, “didn’t think you could get anymore heavenly.”

You giggled at the praise, finally feeling at ease with your body around him.

He collapsed next to you, laying on his side and running one hand over the top of your stomach, to avoid touching his semen.

“I’m so lucky, did you know that?” he asked you.

You turned your head, stretching your neck slightly to catch his lips in a sweet kiss. “I could say the same.”

[wheeboo]

for a moment, forever | choi seungcheol

SYNOPSIS. in which while shopping for wedding dresses for your best friend, you can't help but want to try one on too. PAIRING. choi seungcheol x gn!reader (ft. jihyo from twice as reader's engaged best friend) GENRE. fluff, established relationship WARNINGS. mild cursing, terms of endearment, reader wears a wedding dress, cheol doesn't show up until like halfway into the fic HAHAH WORD COUNT. 2.2k

notes: this is lowkey me describing my dream dress if i do somehow get married lmao so also self indulgent too ig, and it was fun searching up dresses! this also reminds me of that one scene from extraordinary attorney woo. if u know u know :') happy belated bday cheol <3

[02:39PM | y/n] should be done with jihyo's appointment in a few hours!! you can pick me up then bub❤️

[2:41PM | cheol 💕] Sounds good, my love. I'll see you then 😊

"Wait, oh my God, that one is beautiful!"

"Right?!" Jihyo exclaims eagerly before swiping to the next photo in her camera roll, on it displayed a gorgeous mermaid wedding dress that she had saved from Pinterest. "Okay, not sure if I like the mermaid ones but this was one was too pretty to not be saved."

"You can always ask to try one on too. I still think you'd rock whichever one you put on," You tell her, lacing an arm around hers as the two of you approach the bridal boutique that was just around the corner. "I still can't believe you're getting married."

When you and Jihyo exchange knowing glances with each other, squeals of excitement escape both of you. It feels surreal, almost like a dream knowing that your best friend is about to walk down the aisle and take her first steps into married life. Just ahead of the two of you, the bridal boutique gleams with soft lights and elegantly displayed gowns in the windows.

As you both step inside, the cozy warmth of the boutique wraps around you, and a subtle, lingering floral scent and delicate perfume fills the air. The interior is enchanting yet inviting, with a variety of dresses arranged by style. The boutique's consultant greets you both with a welcoming smile, and after a brief chat and a rundown of the different options, she leads you to a private area where Jihyo can begin her fitting.

You follow Jihyo as she naturally gravitates towards the gowns on display. You can tell she's already picturing herself in each dress. It's a bit overwhelming being surrounded by so many intricately designed dresses, like you've walked straight into a world of fairytale. Lace, satin, tulle𑁋every fabric imaginable seems to be represented here.

While helping Jihyo pick out some dresses, you can't lie that some have caught your eye more than you can admit. Knowing that one day these dresses will be worn by someone on of the most important days of your life fills you with awe. The thought makes your heart full, and briefly, you can't but help but imagine yourself walking down the aisle one day.

For a moment, your mind flickers to the thought of Seungcheol, and your heart does a jump.

One particular white tulle, floral embroidered dress with off-shoulder sleeves catches your attention. It's a perfect blend of elegance and romance. You let your hand run over the delicate embroidery, marvelling with admiration at the elaborate details caressed over every inch of it. The floral patterns are so finely crafted that they seem to bloom like real flowers right out of the fabric.

"Y/N, you need to try that on right now!"

You turn swiftly at the sound of Jihyo's commanding voice. "What? No, I can't𑁋"

"Come on, please!" Jihyo urges insistently while holding just about a dozen dresses in her hands. "It's so beautiful!"

"But this is for your special day, not𑁋"

"Honey, you and Seungcheol have been together for so long now, and sooner or later, you're going to have your special day too. Just try it on for fun, and I’d love to see how it looks on you!"

Okay, she really didn't have to bring up Seungcheol like that, but now you can't get it out of your head. An odd, fluttery feeling bursts in your stomach on top of the embarrassment crawling up your neck.

"Fine," You relent with a playful look. "But I'll do it after you try on all your dresses. Once again, today is for you, missy."

A wide grin spreads across her face as she shuffles towards the fitting room. "It's a deal!"

The next hour or so you spend lounging on the couch as Jihyo tries on dress after dress. Each one seems to bring out a different side of her: from elegant to dramatic, playful to sophisticated. You can’t help but laugh and cheer her on, snapping pictures and videos to capture every moment. You also help with various aspects of the fittings, from adjusting straps to even adding the veil on her head.

"You look like a princess!" You exclaim, clapping your hands as she twirls in a voluminous ball gown in front of the mirror.

"I feel like one!" Jihyo giggles, even doing a dramatic hair flip to add for an endearing touch.

The last one that she tries on is a mermaid dress with stunning lace detailing and a long, flowing train that spreads across the floor like ocean waves. As she steps out of the fitting room, the dress hugs her curves perfectly, and she looks every bit of a confident, radiant bride shining in her own element.

"Girl," You gasp out, voice full of awe. "that dress was made for you. You look absolutely stunning!"

Jihyo gazes at herself in the mirror. "Really?"

"Yes!" You claim, and you almost want to cry thinking about your best friend walking down the aisle. "I can so picture you walking down the aisle in this, holy shit."

Jihyo chuckles bashfully at your reaction.

"I'm going to be a bride," she says aloud, somewhat to herself and in a way announcing to the world too, before turning to you with a gleeful expression. "I'm going to be a bride!"

[04:45PM | cheol 💕] Are you done, sweetheart? I got to leave work earlier and just arrived at the place. Might come in since it's boiling outside 😅

"I really don't know about this𑁋"

"Come on, just try it on!" Jihyo nudges you ever so slightly to the fitting room, the dress trembling in your grasp. "This will be us doing some early preparations for your wedding, 'kay?"

Reluctantly, you find yourself stepping into the fitting room, the dress in your hands feeling both light and heavy at the same time. Taking a long, deep breath, you start to change into the dress as the consultant comes to your side to assist.

At first, the fabric feels odd against your skin, the delicate embroidery and soft tulle brushing against your shoulders as you put on the dress. The off-shoulder sleeves fit surprisingly snug when you slip them through your arms. The floral patterns seem to come alive right before your eyes, just like they had when you first saw the dress.

You take the first glance of yourself in the mirror in the fitting room, and it's almost as if you've been kicked in the gut and all the words had left you.

"Wow," You whisper to yourself, doing a small spin to see how the dress looks, and it feels absolutely magical to be the one wearing this dress right now.

Scrambling slightly, you look around your scattered belongings on the floor for your phone, knowing that you just have to capture this very moment before you would have to take the dress off.

But you can't find your phone anywhere.

"Crap, where did I put it?" You mumble annoyedly, having to move your dress around to get a better look, yet you still don't see it. Did you leave it outside? "Hey, Jihyo! If you're out there, can you pass me my phone?"

No response.

"Jihyo?"

Still no response.

Deflating your shoulders, you decide you might as well step outside to retrieve it.

"I didn't think the dress would fit this good. It's a bit heavier than I thought but I think I could manage𑁋"

And then you freeze, almost as if you were caught red-handed committing some sort of heinous crime, because Seungcheol is standing not that far away from you, eyes wide with disbelief and mouth dropped down to the floor at the sight of you wearing the wedding dress.

For a few moments, it's like the world stops as well, and you start to feel a little self-conscious under his gaze.

"Cheol? What are you..." Then you look down at yourself and the dress you were wearing. "You're here earlier than I-I thought, I should go change𑁋"

Seungcheol blinks back to reality from your words. "Wait, no, don't move, please."

He keeps his eyes locked on you, his gaze moving from your face, to the way the dress hugs and accentuates your figure in all the right ways, then back up again. You can practically see the gears turning in his head. You can't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks as you stand there, awkwardly holding the hem of the dress in your sweaty hands.

You can hear your heart pounding in your chest. This is not how you imagined seeing Seungcheol after Jihyo's appointment. You were expecting a casual, friendly greeting, maybe a quick kiss, and then a drive home. But this... this is different. You've been with Seungcheol for years, but he's staring at you like he's seeing you for the first time.

"Wow, I..." He scratches the back of his neck sheepishly before placing his hands in his pockets. "You're fucking breathtaking, honey."

Your cheeks burn brighter than ever, some sort of choked sound leaving you at his bluntness. You glance down at the dress, then back at Seungcheol.

"You... You think so?" You ask, voice timid and tainted with unsureness.

"Think so?" he repeats, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I know so. I can't take my eyes off you."

A rush of heat climbs up your neck as you avert your eyes away, pretending to adjust the hem of the dress, fingers clumsily tugging at the material. The dress suddenly feels suffocatingly hot and you don't know how much more you can take.

His eyes still don't leave you even when he steps closer, the features of his face softening into simply an adoring look.

You could feel your feet melting into the ground below. "Cheol, I should really go change𑁋"

"Not yet," he says firmly, and you stay put. "Just let me look at you for a little longer, please?"

That familiar, pleading tone to his voice makes your heart run laps in your chest and causes your knees to feel like jelly. He takes a few more steps towards you, and before you know, he's standing right in front of you, half-lidded eyes flickering between yours and your lips. He takes a hand out of his pocket and reaches out to gently cup your face, letting a finger trace slowly over your cheek, leaning in just close enough to whisper in your ear.

"I can't wait to marry you."

His words come out so quiet that you're barely able to hear it. And before you can respond, some loud, marching footsteps snaps you out of thought.

"Y/N! Look at this, I found the perfect veil for you!" When Jihyo sees you and Seungcheol, she stops short in her tracks, glancing at the sight of you in the dress and Seungcheol standing in front of you appearing as if he was just two seconds away from kissing you.

You clear your throat loudly, stepping away from Seungcheol and towards Jihyo.

"You found a veil for me?" You ask her.

"Yeah, put it on!" Jihyo hands you the dainty veil. "I went through hell trying to find a good one and I think this one works perfectly."

You feel Seungcheol's eyes on you as you carry the veil towards the mirror and carefully place it over your head. The light, airy fabric showers down around you, complementing the elegant gown. As you adjust the veil to your liking, you catch a glimpse of your reflection and can't help but smile. You see Seungcheol in the mirror as well, staring at you with an intense gaze of admiration.

And when you turn around, Seungcheol thinks you look more beautiful than what his imagination could possibly give him. He has to bite at his bottom lip in order to suppress some of the giddiness threatening to spread throughout his body, and the thought of seeing you again in a wedding dress makes him almost dizzy.

You're like an angel who has stepped foot into his world. The dress houses your wings and the veil is your halo. It's a perfect vision of the future he’s been dreaming about for so long it nearly makes him burst; a reality that he never thought he'd be seeing so soon.

He's going to marry you𑁋he knows he will. He knew that from that moment you first smiled at him back in your freshman year English class, all because you both simply made unexpected eye contact while you were introducing yourself. He knew it even more when he embarrassingly fell on his ass during a university soccer game and your laugh was the only sound that he could hear.

This is his first peek of forever with you, and he can't wait for it to all come true.

Seungcheol faintly hears you ask what he thinks about it, and only the heavens know how much he wants to answer by putting that ring stashed in the depths of his bedside drawer on your finger right then and there. But there's a time and place for everything. He has to make sure everything is perfect first.

So, yeah, he should really get to planning. And right now seems like a good start.

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