Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader
Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you.
Warnings: None for today!
Word Count: 2498
Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: Guess who realized she missed a major plot point last chapter and had to include it here! Also, I am a liar and can’t keep a schedule for the life of me. Sorry y’all :( but I’m excited to start writing again!
Once again, italics are French (Let me know if you would prefer that I just use French and provide translations instead, I can't tell which would be better).
Chapters: 1, 2
It took about twenty minutes for you and Josephine to finish carving the runes for the ceremonial altar, which meant the guests could finally conjure their flowers, foods and other offerings representing the abundance and balance of autumn. The gold decorated table was quickly overcrowded with goods, and the two of you happily left the room to enjoy yourselves until the midnight feast.
You had spent most of the last hour dancing with lonely ministry workers or chatting with the most remarkable witches in England. That is until your mother eagerly pulled you away from a handsome Quidditch player to meet an elderly woman with hair so golden you could immediately tell she used a charm to hide her greys.
“Darling, come introduce yourself to Mrs. Lockhart. I'm sure you’ve been eager to meet her.”
You politely smiled, ready to finally learn a little information about the family you would hopefully be marrying into soon, “Hello, it's a pleasure to finally meet y-”
But she cut you off before you could even finish, pulling you into a hug to kiss your cheeks, “Oh! You are absolutely stunning! I’m certain my little Gilderoy will be delighted to see you!”
You barely managed to let out a laugh before she spoke again, “You know, my son is quite the looker himself. Your children will be handsome, that's for certain.”
Your eyes widened ever so slightly, a little caught off guard at the prospect of children being brought up so early, “Umm, eventually… I suppose that could be true.”
Clearly, the blonde woman hadn’t heard a word of what you said or simply didn’t care, “Roy would be such a good father, taking the kids out traveling with him, teaching them all sorts of spells.”
“Surely that cannot be safe,” your mother interjected, half serious.
“It would be no problem at all. He’s brilliant, absolutely brilliant," she continued, “He was excellent at school. If you asked any of his professors, they would tell, I’m sure of it! So he’d be able to heal the children without a problem!”
“It would almost be a shame for the mother to be present in their lives since he’s so talented,” you couldn’t help but mumble, which earned you an elbow in the ribs.
“Oh you surely must’ve heard of my boy’s books,” Mrs Lockhart, oblivious to the comment, took your hands as she kept praising her son, “If you haven’t, you absolutely must read them! It’s actually the reason he couldn’t join. My precious, little Gilderoy’s so brave; out there fighting monsters to further the world's knowledge.”
“Right. He must certainly be fantastic for you to speak so much,” you said without much of a thought, still a little bitter at the lack of attention you were getting, which earned you another warning look from your mother.
“Mrs. Lockhart,” your mother gave her an overly sweet smile ready to avoid any drama, “Dinner is just about to begin. I’ll have one of the house elves escort you to your seat at our table.”
The older woman nodded happily as she walked off with the servant to the dining room. Your expression immediately dropped as she was out of sight and you turned to your mother, “She has absolutely no manners, one can only hope her son didn't inherit her personality.”
“Be polite,” she hissed back at you, smiling to the guests as they made their way to the dinner tables, “And go sit with your sister before she says something she shouldn’t.”
You held back a quip before heading into the room with the rest of the guests to enjoy the equinox feast.
A few days had passed since the party and you supposed the rituals had brought you good luck seeing as you hadn’t thought much about Remus (you figured he had taken the hint and stayed home) and your sister had been granted an extension from Beauxbâtons, which allowed her to stay in London for a few more days.
The downside was that your parents had grown sick of your constant joking around and arguments, so they kicked you out of the house to enjoy their peaceful Saturday afternoon. Luckily for the two of you, the sky was still cloudy but the sun had finally made its appearance for the first time in days (another sign of good fortune).
So this led the two of you to wander the streets of Diagon Alley, in hopes to find interesting pieces to blow your money on. Unfortunately, that had been a bust, seeing as you and Josephine had found a total of three interesting books and a single skirt combined in your shopping excursion.
So, dejected and hungry, two of you walked into the only restaurant in the area: the Leaky Cauldron in hopes to at least find decent food. A decision that you immediately regretted as you watched an elderly wizard with a disheveled robe eating a dry steak and kidney pie with an equally suspicious soup.
“I am not eating here,” you said sternly in French, grabbing Jo’s arm before she could sit.
“Why not?”
“I would rather share a kiss with a dementor than eat British cuisine,” you respond quickly, dragging her to the door, “Let’s just see what our other options are.”
The busy innkeeper called out a quick “good day” as you walked out onto the streets of London.
“You think the non-magique have decent food?”
Jo shrugged as she began walking down Charing Cross Road. Soon enough, the two of you found a charming Italian restaurant that was good enough for both your standards.
The restaurant had a similar charm to a cafe, a little small and busy but cozy nonetheless. Josephine insisted on eating outside due to the lovely weather and you begrudgingly agreed. The waitress was quick to seat you at the small table furthest away from the street and set your menus down, quickly going over the specials with a smile.
“I’ll be right back with you in just a moment to take your orders,” she addressed you both politely, as she walked away.
“You owe me one,” you said half-joking as you glanced at Jo, “Now we at least get to enjoy food safe for human consumption.”
“You are ridiculously picky,” she rolled her eyes, picking up her menu, “I hope you know that.”
“I’m not picky,” you barely looked at the menu before making up your mind, “It’s called having standards.”
“You can’t judge things based on their looks. It’s a nasty habit.”
“How’s Papi Alain anyways?” you chose to change the conversation.
“He’s well,” Jo told you, “He keeps complaining about you not visiting him.”
“He’s always complaining about something.”
The waitress was back a few seconds later to take your orders, clearly a little overwhelmed as she wrote down the two orders of coffee, a side of breadstick, a pizza and alfredo, “Is that all?”
“Yes, thank you,” you didn’t bother looking up at her as she rushed off to help the other customers.
The wait was a little longer than you had hoped but you chose to push your annoyance aside. This was afterall not a high end restaurant, so you couldn’t expect over the moon service. The owner had also seemingly understaffed the restaurant for the day, seeing as a familiar lanky, scarred figure stepped out of the building holding a platter as he talked to the stressed out waitress, who pointed to your table.
He barely made it to your table before you spoke up, shocked, “You.”
You could’ve sworn you heard him mumble under his breath in another language as he closed his eyes for a second, defeated, “Good afternoon, your waitress got caught up with other customers but here are your coffees.”
“Is the owner not concerned that you might scare off customers,” you were aware that your phrasing was rude, but you were happy to consider it minor payback for his own past rude behavior, “I could still give you the information to my–”
“I don’t usually work in the front,” he cuts off, doing his best to maintain his customer service voice, “Now, do you need anything else, or can I get back to the dishes?”
“What do you even do with the dishes?”
“It’s a non-magique establishment,” your sister reminds you, grimacing as she takes a sip of her black coffee, “They actually hand wash stuff.”
“That seems like a nuisance,” you watched the 17 year old pour an obscene amount of cream and sugar into her drink before turning back to the tall man standing by your table, “Can’t you just use magic and keep it under wraps? Non-magiques are pretty oblivious you know-”
“Are you good? Or do you need something else? I have a job to do,” Remus’s forced smile finally dropped.
You frowned in mild annoyance, “Of course. We are fine, we wouldn’t want to make your life any harder than you already make it for yourself.”
“Good,” with that, he didn’t hesitate to head back to the kitchen.
“Ugh! He’s such a jerk,” you turned to Josephine, who seemed amused by the interaction, “We should’ve just stayed at the Leaky Cauldry afterall, at least the staff there aren’t so rude.”
“He’s kinda cute,” she remarked, taking another sip from her new concoction, “Also, you know that’s not true.”
“Hardly,” you watched the pedestrians and cars pass by as you lied.
“I understand why you were obsessing over him.”
“I was not!” you felt your cheeks heat up as you glared at her.
“You must’ve mentioned him 100 times now,” something behind you seemed to catch her attention and she straightened up, “Food.”
You tensed, catching her implication as you tried to change the conversation in a nervous tone, “Gilderoy sent me another letter. Did I tell you he uses lilac ink to write? It’s truly impractical to read but it looks pretty, so I’ll forgive it.”
Remus didn’t bother acknowledging you as he placed your food on the table, ignoring your words. He glanced at Jo as she thanked him, “Enjoy. Your waitress should be back with the bill when you're done.”
He was gone in the blink of an eye, ready to leave your presence. Josephine held back a smile as she took a bite from her pizza, “Tough luck, I don’t think he likes you much.”
“Shut up,” you muttered as you began to eat your pasta.
The conversation between the two of you quickly started again as you enjoyed your late lunch and it lasted about a half hour until you were near finished, which prompted the waitress to come by with the bill, "Feel free to pay whenever you’re ready.”
You nodded, watching her leave as you dug through your purse for cash but froze when you saw the Galleons in your wallet, looking up at Jo in a panic, “We forgot to go to Gringotts to get our money exchanged.”
Josephine choked on her coffee, “You’re kidding.”
You began to panic slightly. Even if you apparated to Diagon Alley, the money exchange would take too long with the lines and the staff would notice your extended absence. Your saving grace came as you noticed a familiar man exit the side door of the restaurant and make his way to the back alley.
“Ok, wait here for a bit. I have an idea.”
Jo didn’t seem thrilled, as you began to leave, “Wait a second! What do I do if the waitress gets back?”
“I don’t know, order dessert or something. I’ll be quick.”
You ignored her protests as you swiftly followed in the direction Remus had headed. You noticed the smell of cigarette first then his figure sitting on the ground. Your face scrunched up slightly at the smell but you did your best to hide it. He wouldn’t help you if you didn’t at least play nice.
“Do you carry non– muggle change on you?”
Remus, who hadn’t realized he’d been followed frowned in confusion as he looked at you, not processing your words, “I’m on break. Someone inside can help you.”
Your confidence wavered for a split second and you began fidgeting with your rings, “Well, unfortunately, they can’t.”
The man sighed, clearly sensing that you weren’t lying and took a drag of his cigarette, hoping it would give him the patience to deal with you, “You smoke?”
The question was merely asked out of politeness on Remus' part, but he immediately regretted it as he saw your scowl, “No, it ages the skin and leaves an unpleasant smell.”
It took everything in him to not roll his eyes as he responded with a question which was meant to be rhetorical, “And you don’t have a spell to help with those?”
“Obviously I do, but it’s nothing like– Why am I even bothering arguing about this with you. I need muggle money to pay for my meal.”
“How is that my problem?”
You hadn’t exactly considered him straight up refusing to help and you were slightly caught off guard. “I… I’ll give you double the amount. I just don’t have time to wait in line at Gringotts…”
You felt embarrassed having to basically beg him for help and you didn’t think your pride could be wounded any further. Remus’s expression was serious for a few seconds as he weighed his options.
“Apologize.”
“Pardon?”
“Apologize for your behavior and comments, then I’ll do the exchange.”
“Apologize for my behavior? You’re the one who–”
“I don’t think you’re in a position to argue right now. Just do it, I don’t really care if you actually mean it. At this point, I’m mostly enjoying watching you scramble for your pride.”
You could’ve sworn your eye twitched but he was right. You weren’t really the one with the upper hand, “Fine. I’m… sorry.”
“For?” he took another drag, barely even trying to hide his amusement.
You took a small breath, trying to collect yourself, “I’m sorry for my behavior. Can I get the £20 now?”
He sighed, putting out his cigarette before digging for the money in his coat, “You’re lucky I got paid today.”
You let out a breath of relief and quickly exchange currencies with him. You stood there for a few more seconds, feeling awkward before muttering a quick “Thank you” and rushing back to your table.
Remus’s gaze remained on you for longer than necessary before scoffing slightly as he put away his galleons.
When you arrived with the cash, you saw Josephine stuff a spoonful of gelato in her mouth, “Seriously?”
“You said order dessert.”
“I wasn’t even– whatever just finish that and I’ll pay.”
Once she was done, you were eager to leave that restaurant in your past. Hell, you were really considering heading back home–
“Can we go to the tourist spots? I heard they have great shops in Knightbridge!”
You sighed, looking up at the cloudy sky, “Alright… but I need to stop by the bank first."
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader
Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you.
Warnings: No Remus this chapter but he will be there for the next one obviously. Dead Regulus mention? and I guess pureblood supremacy.
Word Count: 1901
Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: March 28th my ass. So sorry that took forever, I clearly suck at meeting deadlines 😓. Anyways, I'll try my best to actually stick to my schedule now, but the next chapter will probably come out in June since I’m sewing my cosplay for Momocon this month. Now, on a more serious note, I'm assuming many of you have heard about what happened in the UK because of JKR's vile transphobic beliefs and I urge you all to please not support her financially. I'm obviously still helping her by writing this fic unfortunately, but do not buy HP merch and if you absolutely want to watch the movies or read the books, just pirate them, get them from the thrift store or some other way that won’t directly fund her actions. That is the least we can do to support the trans community. Finally, I hope you enjoy this chapter despite the shitty political climate we're stuck in right now.
Chapters: 1, 3
As soon as your father closed the front door, your mother exploded, “You did not just invite a random stranger to our first hosted party here. Nearly every notable British wizard is invited to attend, Hervé! We have an image to uphold, especially after everything that happened with–”
“Relax, woman,” the man responded, running a hand through his greying hair and your mother proceeded to smack him at the address with her gloves. This resulted in your father glaring at her as he continued, “He won’t come anyways. He seems like the type to know his place in society. It was simply politeness, he wouldn't take the money, so I had to offer something valuable.”
“You might as well have offered my head on a platter,” you huffed, “He didn’t deserve common courtesy. He behaved like an absolute jerk earlier after I offered him advice.”
Your father, used to both your mother and your own antics, ignored the comment and turned to make his way deeper into the house, “Merlin, why couldn’t I just have sons…”
You felt frustrated but knew that no arguing would rectify this situation, instead turning to the women next to you, “This isn’t fair!”
“Darling, I’m on your side but you know I can’t do anything about this, so if you want to whine, go bother the help,” she shrugged off her coat before pausing, “Did he steal anything?”
Your annoyance rose slightly at the change of subject, “No, but that's not the main issue—”
“Good,” and with that, she made her way to the library.
“I cannot believe this” you grumbled to yourself, storming off to your bedroom ready to write another pile of letters to complain about your predicament.
The next few days went by in a blur with all the renovations and party planning. But despite all of that, you couldn’t seem to get a certain Welsh man off your mind and it was getting more and more frustrating. Even now, as the dressmakers made some last minute adjustments, you talked their ear off, not caring if they even spoke a word of French, “...and when I gave him a helpful suggestion, he snapped at me. I have no clue what his problem was! And worst of all, Papa invited him to the party.”
The witch standing behind you rolled her eyes, which you luckily missed, and tightened your corset suddenly, causing you to straighten up your posture and adjust your breathing, “He keeps insisting he won’t come but that’s not the point. It’s the principle-”
You, luckily for the seamstresses, were interrupted by your bedroom door opening, revealing your younger sister still draped in her blue satin uniform. Your annoyance immediately vanished as you gasped and pulled away from the dressmakers, ignoring their protests as you ran to hug Josephine.
“Gods, I missed you,” you took a small step back to get a better look at the 17 year old, “How’s school? And the rest of the family? You have no clue how much I miss Southern France, the weather here is dreadful and it gets awfully lonely.”
“Quit being dramatic,” your mother interrupted, smiling slightly in amusement, “We’ve only been here for a few days. You’ll find plenty of friends during the Equinox party, now get back on the stand so we can finish up your gown for tomorrow.”
You didn’t argue as you went back to the stand on the stool, completely oblivious to the witches' annoyance with you as they got back to working on the hems of your skirt. Your sister sat on your bed as your mother opted for the chair closer to you, analyzing your dress thoroughly to ensure perfection.
“School’s alright. Madame Auclair has been the bane of my existence when it comes to manners.”
“As she should,” your mother interjected, causing the young girl to roll her eyes.
“She’s been trying to stop me from pursuing my studies in magical creatures but Papi Alain insisted that I visit his estate for the summer to help him with his matagots!”
“You’re kidding,” you glanced back at her sister on your white comforter.
“Absolutely not,” Madame Vaillancourt interrupted once more, clearly getting ready to fall into another one of her lectures, “Do you have any idea how dangerous that would be? What if you get disfigured? Do you realize how difficult that could make it for you to find a job at the ministry?”
“I don’t want to work for the ministry–”
Your mother gasped.
“You never insist on Y/N to get a job in the ministry. Why does it matter if I do?”
“She’s marrying into a stable household, you are the one who insisted on not wanting to get married early. You can’t expect us to simply give you hand outs.”
“Why not? It’s not like we’re going to run out of money.”
You checked out of their argument. It didn’t really matter what your mother’s opinion was in the moment anyways, she never had it in her to go against her children's happiness, so Josephine would get what she wanted in the end. This brought your thoughts back to your situation and you looked up to your agitated mother sitting in the corner chair. She had stopped arguing with her other daughter, instead instructing the seamstress to do specific alterations.
“Maman, has his mother told you he’d be present?” you asked, not taking much notice in her instructions to the dressmakers.
The woman paused and glanced at you with a hesitant expression, “Unfortunately, he can’t attend tomorrow. His trip abroad took longer than expected but should be coming back home soon. Then we’ll discuss if you actually want to marry him. He is quite a downgrade from… Nevermind, I didn’t say anything. He’s a lovely, well-renowned and brave wizard, so you should consider yourself quite lucky, dear.”
Your smile died down slightly at the reminder of your late fiancé. Your sister sensing the mood shift speaks up, “It’s also rather lucky that the full moon falls on the 22nd this year. It will definitely make the equinox spell more powerful.”
“Oh! Right, I completely forgot about that! If we're lucky, it will bring us good fortune for the party and we’ll maintain our good reputation.”
“The only thing that could prevent that is Remus showing up, so I hope the full moon will bring me the fortune of not seeing his face at the party.”
“Don’t be rude,” your mother began but was cut off.
“You remembered his name?” Josephine asked with an amused grin, which made you tense up at the implication.
“That’s not- ouch,” you glared back at the needle that pricked you, the seamstress behind you letting out an insincere apology before going back to adding beads to the draped bodice.
“Let’s not focus on what might go wrong for now,” she looked at the solid golden fabric of your gown and addressed the two witches, “Add a faint jacquard weave to the dress, preferably something autumn-esque.”
They both nodded and carefully began casting their spells, causing faint imprints of branches and leaves to appear on the gown. The enchantment also caused the golden colour to swirl slowly, “Perfect! All we need to worry about now is Josephine’s gown.”
The girl let out a groan, falling backwards to lay on your mattress.
Lively music filled the house along with the laughter and chatter of the guests. The fall foliage had found its way into the house and the smell of spiced apples and wax permeated the room. You stood near the entrance with your parents to greet the crowd of purebloods, politicians and other famous wizards growing in your parlour room.
Nearly everyone had shown up to the party except for a handful of people and you were pleased to see that Remus had not made an appearance yet. Your mood further improved as you saw a familiar blonde woman walk through the doors, a toddler in her arms wearing a tiny deep green suit, matching with his mother's slip dress. You walked away from the group of wizards surrounding your parents and sister to greet her. Upon seeing you, she handed the boy to his father and gracefully went to hug you.
“Narcissa, it’s been too long,” you excitedly hug her back, kissing her cheeks, “You look absolutely stunning tonight. How have you been?”
“I’ve been doing much better since Lucius’s charges were dropped. I still can’t believe we were forced to sit through almost two years of court hearings.”
“That must’ve been awful,” you feigned sympathy, not really caring of Lucius’s hardships, instead turning your attention back to the three year old in his arms, “And how’s my little prince?”
Lucius allowed you to take Draco into your own arms as you cooed at the small boy, paying no mind to his father disappearing in the crowd to socialize. The small talk continued between you and Narcissa as you caught up on the years since the private funeral. And unfortunately, that meant the topic you had avoided for the last few years was finally brought up, “Have you seen Walburga since the funeral?”
Your smile tightened as you shifted Draco to rest on your hip as you held him, “I’ve visited her a few times but I think she’s lost herself to her grief… She’s accused me for Regulus’s death a few times, and it’s a little difficult to see how drastically her view of me changed, especially considering I’ve spent most of my childhood thinking she would be my mother in law…”
“I understand. I still visit her semi-regularly but even I can only handle her explosive behavior for so long,” Narcissa responded as she fixed Draco’s hair before caressing his chubby cheek, “But I can’t fault her too much. No matter how much she might claim to hate Reggie and Sirius for their lack of loyalty, she did lose both of them and her husband in less than a few years… I truly am sorry we couldn’t be cousins, I can only hope you find a partner of your standing soon.”
The comment was clearly a warning from the woman, encouraging you to find another pureblood to marry now that you were done grieving Regulus. However, you both knew there weren’t many unmarried pureblood your age in England and the day you began to date someone from a different blood status would be the day Narcissa would stop viewing you as family, a thought that was a little upsetting.
“Thank you,” you smiled before handing her the toddler back, “I need to go greet a few more guests but I hope that now that I’m in London, we might be able to see each other more. For old times sake.”
You both knew this was simply politeness. Once you got engaged again, your relationship would go from nearly being sisters to acquaintances at most. Despite that, you felt a sense of freedom having confronted a small part of your past. You also knew that despite her disapproval, she would understand where your decision came from and your reputation wouldn’t be too tarnished as long as you married a famous or powerful wizard. And with these thoughts, you found it surprisingly easy to join Josephine to prepare the material for the Equinox rituals, the grief still present but less piercing than it had been in years.
You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you.
Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader
Summary: You, an out of touch rich pureblood, recently moved to England for yet another engagement prospect. Unfortunately, things don't go to plan as you somehow find yourself constantly running into a werewolf, who has developed a valid reason to dislike you.
Warnings: This is going to be a long fic and the reader will be a bit of a bitch at first. The story will definitely contain violence, excessive use of alcohol, smut and mentions of death. This chapter doesn't have any graphic content though. On side note, this is set in 1983 and sadly, Lily (my wife... 😔) and James are dead. So Sirius is in Azkaban and Peter is "dead".
Word Count: 2313
Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: Let's pretend I didn't mean to post this yesterday... London was an actual nightmare to map out in my brain and I'm fully aware the title doesn't make total sense considering uptown and downtown is a mostly American concept but I figured it fit the context of the story. So for our sake, Remus will live in East London, closer to the Thames, and you, my dear Readers will live in West London, more North of the city. On a side note, fuck JKR and her disgusting beliefs. Also, to anyone struggling, whether it be personal life or political climate, I hope you're doing alright. Writing is my current escapism and I hope I can help someone else in the process.
Chapters: 2, 3
“When is that damned exterminator going to get here?” your father’s gruff voice was muffled by his handkerchief he held to his nose as he walked into the parlour.
“We should’ve just called the ministry,” the woman sat next to you snapped, her head sticking out of the window taking advantage of the fresh air, “No one would’ve ever cared about our little problem. But no, you had the brilliant idea to hire some random man you found in some pub.”
You brushed your damp hair, trying your best to ignore the foul stench emitting from beneath the floor, “There’s nothing small about our problem, so I’d much rather keep this discreet myself.”
You should’ve known better than to oppose your poor, dear mother, as she grasped her chest as if she couldn’t breathe, “Discreet! I don’t care how discreet we are dealing with this! This man will fail to help us, screw up and we will have to call the ministry anyways. Hell! He’s probably a fraud and planning to rob us. Do you have any idea how much worse that will be! People will think we are fools who can’t maintain our estate.”
You didn’t bother hiding the way you rolled your eyes as you glanced back out to the cloudy sky, which caused mother to rant about disrespect to the old man, now sitting in his recliner.
The fall wind was a welcome guest as you began to carefully style your hair, turning your attention to your faint reflection in the window. The bundimun infestation might have stalled the redecorating efforts of this old dirty hole of townhouse, but it was certainly not going to stop you from looking your best.
“It’s lucky Josephine is still in France. I'm beginning to doubt any amount of magic can revive this place.”
“Enough complaining,” your father cut in, as he casted another scouring charm in an attempt to lessen the smell, “We all know this isn't ideal, but you should be grateful we even found this estate for you considering your situation.”
You felt slightly annoyed as you finished your hair, frowning at him through the glass reflection. Your hand dropped dejectedly as you glanced back with a sigh. He was right, despite every one of your arrangements falling through due to the war, your parents had still managed to find you a respectable match, “I know, I know. I'm sorry. This is all just… I really miss him and this is all so frustrating.”
Your parents shared a look but remained silent. However, this didn’t last long as your mother suddenly stood up, “I feel like I might faint.”
Your father let out an exasperated sigh at her theatrics.
“I am sorry, dear, but I cannot do this anymore. You'll have to deal with the exterminator yourself, I'm going out for lunch with Y/N–”
Before your father could protest in annoyance, you interrupted, “Actually, I still need to finish my makeup, so you can go with Papa.”
They put very little effort into arguing and quickly vanished from the house. The silence would've been appreciated if it weren’t for the disturbing smell surrounding you and you found yourself tilting your head back as you leaned against the window sill. Even upside down, the townhouses that lined the street bored you, and you decided to stare at the sea of grey clouds slowly drifting across the sky instead.
You figured, much to your annoyance, that it would likely rain again today. Your attention snapped to the street when you heard the crunching of the colourful leaves beneath someone’s shoes. You flipped over to get a proper look of the man coming up the street and your interest peaked. He stood out against the pristine houses, his dark clothes seemingly worn from years of wear on his tall, though lanky figure, and he seemed handsome enough even from the second floor.
You quickly grabbed your wand and summoned your silk robe, slipping it over your nightgown. He must’ve been the man your father hired, and with that thought, you grabbed your perfume bottle to apply some.
By the time the doorbell rang, you had grabbed your lipstick and you carefully applied it as you looked at yourself in the mirror against the wall. The bell rang a second time and you sighed, quickly wiping off the colour that was out of place. You smoothen out your silk robe before heading to the front door, opening it and finding yourself faced with a man’s hand frozen midair, ready to knock.
“Oh, sorry,” your eyes snapped up to the face that spoke and you met the man’s slightly startled hazel eyes. He was taller than you expected when you saw him outside and his light brown hair was messy but still made him look rather charming. He seemed a few years older, likely in his mid or late 20s. But what truly caught your eyes were the scars scattered across his face, neck, hands. Any bit of skin you could see was littered with scars, “Hi, you hired pest control..?”
His deep voice snapped you out of your daze and you noted the faint Welsh accent as you stepped aside, opening the door wider for him, “Right… come in.”
The man took notice of your outfit and nonchalant demeanor, but remained professional as he followed you in. His expression remained steady despite the familiar pungent smell filling the house. He awkwardly adjusted his bag on his shoulder. Your father hadn’t told him the exact issue, only promising to pay him nicely, and Remus hadn’t exactly allowed himself the privilege of worrying about the oddity of the situation. However, you did notice his stance relaxed as he recognized the infestation he was handling, “Bundimuns?”
“Unfortunately, that is correct,” you sighed, looking back as you opened the door to the area where the test was the most prominent. You noted his slight hesitancy to walk in as he observed the half-decorated house, “Our house warming party is in a few days and we need this issue to be solved quickly so we can finish the renovations.”
“Right…,” Remus tried his best to hide his expression of confusion and disbelief as he stared at the loud rococo decor scattered around the room floor, “This seems like it would’ve been easier to report to the ministry.”
“Probably,” you agreed, making your way to the open balcony, “We’ll take our chances though. I’d rather only have one person know about this than deal with official records of the infestation.”
That dumbfounded the poor man, who had set his old messenger bag down on one of the uncovered powder blue sofas, but he wasn’t about to push for more answers. Rich purebloods were always preoccupied with reputation, he knew that very well.
You leaned against the cold, metal railing as you watched him dig through his bag for his notebook, “How long will it take you?”
His gaze met yours for a split second before going back to flipping through the yellowed pages, “It’ll take two or three hours. This is a pretty serious infestation and this building is a lot bigger than it seemed outside…”
It was clear he had questions but it didn’t seem like he was going to ask. You figured you’d explain the situation to prevent any rumours to spread (though you doubted his words would actually reach any important ears), “This house was built before the ban on extension charms for houses. We have ministry approval to keep it this way.”
Remus smiled a little apologetically, finding the page he was looking for, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound accusatory. It really isn’t any of my business, so I wasn’t going to ask.”
His passiveness was mildly surprising but you brushed it off. It was nice not having to worry about him talking and clearly he needed the money, so you figured he'd stay quiet. You finally moved and sat at the table on the balcony as he began to read the most effective spells to get rid of the secretions and creatures.
It was fairly cold outside but you figured you should keep an eye on him, so to entertain yourself for the next few hours, you figured you’d write to your sister and friends back in France. You flicked your hawthorne wand, summoning your quill, paper and other supplies wordlessly.
The two of you worked on your separate tasks quietly, barely interacting for over an hour. You had lost interest in watching him as he cleaned the house out of the green menaces, using spells you had never heard off, and only headed back inside due to the charming British weather: Rain was always such a nuisance.
You carried your stack of letters with you as you walked back into the house. The smell, though still lingering, had mostly vanished from the house, which was a relief, “I'm going to be upstairs. I trust you won’t steal anything… Though I doubt he’d even be able to identify the actual valuable objects.”
The last part was mumbled in French under your breath but with the context, it was easy for the brunette to infer it was likely an insult. Remus watched you disappear to the third floor, “What?”
“Feel free to ask the house elves for help. They’re in the basement. They’ve been trying their best to deal with the acid,” with that, you shut your bedroom door, completely missing the man’s expression of disbelief and mild offense.
Another hour passed and Remus had done everything in his power to avoid you as he finished up the rest of the house. This would’ve worked wonders if he didn’t have to worry about getting rid of the last few bundimuns in the house, which conveniently were hidden behind the double doors leading to your room.
He sighed. He was never skilled in divination but something in his gut was telling that you were trouble, but he needed the money and he wasn’t about to half-ass his job because of some spoiled brat. So he knocked.
You opened the door and he immediately took note of your outfit change. You were no longer in your silk robe and nightgown, instead dressed in a simple but classy turtleneck and skirt, “I need to charm this room then I’m done…”
You hummed, letting him in as you walked back to your four poster bed, tying the stack of at least 15 letters together so that your owl could carry it. This gave Remus at least a few minutes of peace as he finished up, but it seemed you sensed he was about done as you spoke up, “You know, I know a potion maker in Saint-Brieuc, who is very skilled at Scar-Diminishing Serums.”
“I beg your pardon?” his Welsh accent seemed deeper now that you’d upset him. The unprompted comment caught the man off guard and he scoffed, unable to believe anyone could be this insensitive.
“I’ve used them a few times and they work wonders. Great way to boost confidence and better your appearance,” you paused, sensing he was upset, much to your confusion, “Don’t get me wrong, you’re fairly handsome, but I think it would definitely hel–”
He suddenly got up after casting one last spell, “I’m done.”
His voice, though composed, made it obvious he was pissed. You hesitated slightly, trying to figure out what you did as you followed him down to the first floor, “No need to be so upset, I was just trying to give you advice. Whatever beasts gave you those scars did nasty work–”
He interrupts, surprisingly calm for someone getting insulted every other line, “Well, I kindly reject it, thank you.”
He stopped in front of the front door, almost considering leaving without payment, not wanting anything from you. Before you could protest, he opened the door and your mother let out a yelp, not expecting to see the stranger.
“Oh! Remy, was it?” your father smiled, glad to see the exterminator.
“Remus.”
It finally occurred to you that you had never even introduced yourself or asked for his name.
“Right, right! You must’ve finished! Y/N, did you pay him yet? I left the galleons on the table in the office,” he kept rambling, walking past Remus and you to get the money. Your mother smiled nervously, looking at the man, who she had already predetermined as creepy and untrustworthy, and tried her best to maintain a polite demeanor.
Unfortunately for her, she did a terrible job and her expression visibly relaxed when your father came back to save her from the conversation, “Here’s the 10 Galleons we originally agreed upon, and I figured you could get an extra 5 for–”
“Actually the 10 will suffice,” Remus forced a smile. He wasn’t stupid. It was clear you and your family were hoping to buy his favor to avoid any bad mouthing, and he wasn’t going to do that. Hell, he didn’t even want to talk about you to anyone (not that he really had anyone left), but it was a matter of principle.
You parents were stumped. They had rarely, if ever, met someone so quick to deny their money, “Sir, we insist–”
Remus had stepped out, taking the 10 Galleons, cutting off your mother with a thigh smile, “Honestly, I’m good.”
Your father, in a desperate attempt to get some sort of upperhand spoke words that made your jaw drop, “Well then, please consider joining us for our Autumn Equinox party on the 22nd.”
Your mother’s expression mirrored yours and you knew they would argue about this later. Remus’s eyes met yours and something awoke in him, a slight sense of amusement he hadn’t felt since Hogwarts. He looked back at your father, adjusting his old bag on his shoulder, and smiled slightly, “I’ll think about it.”
Pairing: Mercenary!Jason Todd x Witch!Reader
Summary: One second Jason's ready to leave town, the next he's married to a witch. How did he end up here?
Warnings: Historical AU but it will have inaccuracies, mentions of executions and hangings (no deaths), injuries and blood
Word Count: 2,335
Credits: @sweetmelodygraphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: Why do I do these things to myself. I hate deadlines… Anyways, I will most likely turn this into a series in the future. Enjoy!
Shouts filled the market square, people bustling about their day carrying baskets of food and other goods. Jason weaved his way through the crowd, his dark red cloak hiding his face as he quietly stepped out of the dark alley. Despite his build, he was able to make his way without garnering much attention. He had just wrapped up the job assigned to him a few days ago and the assassination had surprisingly gone smoothly, which made him even more eager to get out of town before it all went to shit.
However, much to his dismay, it seemed the crowd grew denser as he approached the main road where his inn was. He bumped into the man in front of him and apologized, “What’s going on over there?”
The middle aged man glanced at the cloaked figure next to him and let out a small chuckle, “Execution. Our town hasn’t witnessed one in half a year now!”
Jason frowned slightly, lowering his hood to get a better view, and finally noticed the gallows standing in front of the sea of people, “What d’he do?”
“Not he,” the man responded with a smirk, “The royal guard caught a witch during their nightly patrol.”
The comment made Jason’s expression harden as he pushed past the man to get closer to the stand. A few seconds later, two graying knights dragged you, a young injured woman, onto the wooden stage. Your hands and feet were bound with iron cuffs and you had an old blindfold wrapped around your head. Blood had stained the thick white fabric due to the cuts on your face.
“Damn idiots,” the tall man mumbled to himself as he watched the cheering crowd in front of him. Jason had never believed in the stupid stories about witches. Sure, he had been brought back to life thanks to a puddle of water with supernatural abilities but he’d never met a magic user in his years as an assassin and even in his life as a knight and lord prior to his death. He personally believed the “potions” were likely just the result of knowledge on plants and other ingredients. As for things like foretelling and visions, he brushed it off as fraudsters or simply a case of hysteria.
The knights had given you to the executioner, who didn’t hesitate to wrap your neck with the noose, which caused the crowd to cheer. You stumbled as the executioner pushed you on top of the trapdoor and you cursed under your breath, frustrated with your lack of vision. The local priest hesitantly stepped up on the gallows to give you your last rites and attempt to cleanse your soul of the Devil.
This was enough, he needed to do something before these people did something stupid. Jason noticed the executioner walk towards the lever, his mind ran to find a way to help the innocent woman and he ended up shouting out, catching everyone's attention, “WAIT!”
There’s a moment of silence as the crowd quiets down, trying to figure out who shouted and why. Jason felt a little embarrassed, sensing the eyes of strangers falling on his figure, but he ignored the feeling and repeated himself with a firm tone, “Wait. I’ll marry her.”
The captain of the royal guard took a step forward on the wooden stand, his cold eyes glaring down at the man standing in the front of the crowd, “Excuse me?”
The people in front of Jason moved aside slightly, giving the knight a better view of Jason’s face. Jason straightened his posture, regretting the choice he made to not simply fight. He obviously knew it wouldn’t have actually worked but it would at least be less awkward, “I’ll marry her.”
The captain glances back at his subordinate, laughing at the statement, “You hear that Sir Harry, he wants to marry her!”
The crowd watched the knights laugh and slowly began to join in, which caused Jason to close his eyes and take a sharp breath, feeling frustrated with the situation. You had perked up at the words, recognizing them from your dream and you called out to the crowd, still blindfolded, “I accept-”
You made the mistake of taking a small step forward despite your shackles and the knights drew their swords. The captain pressed the blade against your chest, causing you to hold your breath, “Don’t move.”
“And you,” he lowered his sword and glared at Jason, “You aren’t marrying her. She’s a witch sentenced to be execut-”
Jason cut him off, not caring if he would be called insolent and rude for talking to a noble as such, “I’m asking for a foot of the gallows marriage. This will guarantee the woman a pardon.”
“A foot of the- What are you even talking about?” the captain exclaimed in frustration and Jason grew amused at the noble’s (even if he was likely only a lowly lord) lack of knowledge on the obscure laws of the kingdom, “There’s no such-”
“The 1542 pardon of Sire Fabian was the first case of a Gallows Marriage and it was enacted into law shortly after. It was never repealed, which means it’s still applicable today, even if the law is over 100 years old.”
“You impudent, lying scoundrel!” the older gentlemen shouted, “How dare you take me for a foul? Making up ridiculous claims-”
The priest put his hand on the captain's armor, trying to calm him, “Actually, the young man is correct. I’ve seen the law when transcribing the law books for the monastery.”
You let out a shaky breath as the knights seemed stunned with the words of the priest and you thank the gods beneath your breath. The priest motioned the executioner to remove the noose and approached you, seemingly no longer worried about your wickedness, “God has intervened today, my child. Don’t forget this.”
You let out a hiss, squinting as the light hits your eyes. You stared down at the whispering crowd, who looked stuck between fear and shock. The priest motioned someone from the crowd forward as the knights reluctantly began to disrupt the gathering of people, which resulted in many objections and complaints. The executioner carefully unlocked the cuffs on your ankles and wrists before helping you down the stairs with the help of the priest.
You were still recovering from the sudden turn of events as you stumbled down the stairs and you were slightly stunned to see the familiar figure of a tall, bulky man with black hair and a distinct white streak. You did your best to hide your expression as the priest asked for the man to introduce himself.
The makeshift wedding was held on the church’s steps and there were too many guests present to observe the bizarre turn of events for both Jason’s liking and your own. The vows were swiftly exchanged and there was no celebration that followed as we left the building. You stayed quiet, following him down the street, ignoring the stares of the townspeople as he led you to the inn he was staying at.
You suddenly stopped, hissing as you cut your foot on the stone and the man finally glanced back at you. You lifted your foot slightly to see the damage and he sighed, shoulders relaxing a bit. He looked around, thinking for a moment and hesitated before giving you a small blade, “Put this in your pocket and stay there. I’ll be right back.”
You don’t get a chance to object before he walks off, leaving you alone surrounded by people you personally believed would love to drag you back on the gallows. After a few seconds, you decided to sit down on the small stone wall next to the bakery. You did your best to avoid the attention and, eventually, the people went about their day, mostly losing interest in you.
The crows on the ground became the best source of entertainment for you as you waited. The blood on your foot had coagulated by now but the injury still hurt when you applied pressure to it. You could feel yourself growing tired with each minute, causing you to close your eyes for a second but it’s quickly interrupted by the sound of hooves stopping in front of you, “Sorry that took so long.”
“It’s fine…,” you quickly sat up, glancing up at the beautiful black Arabian horse as he dropped down to the ground, carrying a few bags with him. He walked over to you and lifted your foot to see the damage.
“Why didn’t you just tell me you didn’t have shoes?” he grumbled as he poured water over the wound, cleaning it out. You felt a little embarrassed as he scolded you and you tried ignoring the sharp pain, “Luckily it doesn’t look too deep…”
You let him wrap up your injury securely and he did the same with the other cuts on your body. Jason then dug through the bags and pulled out a pair of shoes he just bought and put them on you. You remarked that you could do it yourself but he ignored you. He also pulled out a dark cloak and wrapped it around your frame before grabbing your hands to help you up, “Does it still hurt?”
You shifted your weight slightly. The boots were a little too big but you could walk. They did help with the pain a bit but you still winced, “A little…”
He nodded and turned to the horse, tying the bags back up on the animal before motioning you closer. You limped over and you let out a surprised yelp as he put you on the horse. There was little conversation as he held the reins, walking the horse out of town. All he could think about is how lucky it was that despite the scene, he wasn’t recognized as Red Hood or else you both wouldn’t have made it out.
“Thank you,” you called out, clinging onto the black stallion as the forest grew denser around you.
“Don’t,” his tone was dry and you had the impression that he wasn’t much of a people’s person, “For all you know, I could kill you.”
“You won’t.”
“And what makes you so confident, huh?” he asked, mildly annoyed, glancing back at you.
“You went out of your way to save me and bought me new clothes.”
The man seemed annoyed but he didn’t respond.
You hesitated slightly, “And… I’ve had a vision of you…”
Jason paused in his steps for a second but brushed it off, “You shouldn’t make comments like that. That’s how morons of the Royal Guard think there’s women out there with actual magic.”
This was your first time confronted with a skeptic and it amused you, “You don’t believe in witches?”
“No,” his response was stern and you wondered if you should simply let it be.
“Hmm… Well, I usually don’t tell people about my abilities,” this caused him to roll his eyes as you looked around, “Where are we going?”
The sun was beginning to set, meaning the forest would quickly become dangerous, “The capital city. I have connections there that will be able to help you start a new life.”
“What about you?” you asked, sensing that he wasn’t planning on staying in the picture despite your newly wed status.
“You don’t want to be intertwined with me.”
“Why do you speak for me? We might be married but I’m fully capable of deciding the level of danger I will expose myself to.”
He gritted his teeth, sensing that he would have a hard time getting used to your presence, “Fine. Then I don’t want you to be intertwined with me and drag me down.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you are kind of an ass?”
“Everyday.”
You stayed quiet for a moment, “If you’re worried I’ll hold you back from your mercenary work, it won't be a problem.”
This time, when he stopped, he turned to face you with a harsh glare.
“What did you say?”
“I told you,” you repeated calmly, “I saw you in a vision.”
“Like Hell you did!”
You cut him off before he could draw a weapon, sensing this was escalating quickly, “The curtains were down, making it easier for you to walk past undetected in the dark room. You met with the Archbishop of Canterbury, who was passing through town, under the pretense of a business meeting but you were actually assigned on a mission to kill the corrupt Cardinal.”
His eyes widened and his hand fell from his sword’s handle.
“The Cardinal didn’t fulfill his end of a deal with the Archduke of Luthor, who hired you. You killed him and his attendants without catching the attention of anyone, without getting blood on yourself or leaving any traces behind.”
“How do you know that..?” he whispered, not liking how knowledgeable you were on his kill from earlier today.
“I already told you. I have a talent for clairvoyance.”
He didn’t seem impressed but he also couldn’t come up with a rational explanation, “Are you a part of an outlaw group? Because if you are, you better let your partners know I don’t take too kindly to threats.”
“You aren’t very trusting,” you sighed, “I’m not and, honestly, I can’t really prove that to you. You’ll just have to learn to trust me.”
The man was irritated but he decided to not leave you stranded in the woods. You didn’t seem like you were involved in the crime underworld and honestly, he didn’t think you would’ve had time to be recruited by an enemy during the time he left you alone, “I’m taking you to the capital but we are parting ways afterwards.”
With that, he began to lead the black horse again through the woods. It was getting late and you could tell the ride was going to be long but you were also looking forward to learning more about your new "husband".
Pairing: PM!Osamu Dazai x PM!Reader
Summary: Dazai was used to seducing women and throwing them away when he no longer needed him. He never expected he'd be the one on the receiving end...
Warnings: MDNI, smut, angst, unrequited love, toxic relationship, reader has siren abilities, mentions of murder and mafia business
Word Count: 2660
Credits: @saradika-graphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: Sorry guys, I was too drunk to finish writing this last night since I played a drinking game with my friends while watching Twilight. I am not a lightweight and we drank champagne, so I hope this gives an idea of how bad the movie was (it's still a guilty pleasure though). Also, I’m AroAce so my intention isn't to depict aromatic people as manipulative pricks. This is just depicting a toxic relationship between two people, in which one of the members happens to be in the community. Anyways, enjoy!
Intimacy between coworkers was never a good idea. Especially when the two parties involved were members of the Port Mafia, which wasn't exactly renowned for its HR department. However, Dazai supposed this didn’t really classify as a proper relationship anyways. It was purely physical, no emotional attachments involved.
And he had to remind himself of that fact every time he found himself pinning you down against your deep blue sheets, ignoring the nerves growing in his chest with each sweet gasp of his name falling from your lips. The same lips that only a few hours prior cried out someone else's name in that same sweet tone.
Dazai wasn’t a stranger to casual sex, if anything, he considered himself an expert at using people’s infatuation and lust for him to get himself a warm bed to stay in for a night. What he wasn’t used to was someone flipping the script on him and that was exactly the situation he found himself in when he met you.
At first, he’d simply pursued you to piss off Chuuya (whom, like most other members, developed a small crush on you due to your ability) and as a challenge for himself to see if he could seduce the renowned Siren. A game he should've quit he started the moment he managed to steal a kiss from you. No… Actually, he shouldn’t have even played at all because the moment he got a taste of you, he couldn’t stop.
Your ability didn’t even work on him, so he didn’t know what made him desperate to shove you against his desk as he tugged your hair or press you in the small corner of the supply closet, hand wrapped around your throat to keep you quiet. Maybe it had something to do with your face or body. He had often seen your true face, nullifying the illusion spell that you’d cast with each of his touches, and he couldn’t deny you were pretty. But he found many women easy on the eyes and never felt the urge to pathetically whimper out their names as he clung onto them desperate for release.
Dazai had finally come to the conclusion that his love for you likely was a cruel joke from the universe. Anything he would never want to lose was always lost. It was something he had learned early on in life and as he grew older, it held more truth than he’d like. Unfortunately for him, his feelings were stubborn and he couldn’t help but find himself alone with you too often. Always repeating this self-flagellating behavior.
You had finished a mission on Mori’s personal orders and got home in the early hours of the morning, long before the sunrise. You weren’t disturbed or surprised when you noticed your door open ajar, not even reaching for your pistol as you entered, instead, kicking your heels off and addressing the man you knew was there, “Back again? ”
Dazai’s dark eye remained on the revealing dress adorning your figure, mildly irritated with himself for feeling jealous of the man you murdered last night. He knew Mori had only assigned you to this case to spite the executive and he hated to admit the punishment was working, “How was the mission?”
“Fine,” you answered dryly as you removed the gun tied around your thigh, along with the empty vial of poison, not caring about the man’s stare, “A little too easy if you ask me.”
Dazai looked away for a split second, staring into his glass of whiskey before finishing it swiftly, “Hurry up and shower. I’ll be waiting in bed.”
You rolled your eyes but made no attempt to disobey him as you walked to your bathroom. You didn’t bother to shut the door, fully aware of the wandering eyes on you as you slowly undressed and turned on the hot water.
By the time you entered your bedroom in your bathrobe, you found the brunette lounging on your bed, flipping through one of your catalogs, “You should consider buying me a new nightgown or lingerie set one of these days.”
Your comment was obviously meant to be playful but even with the laugh falling from his lips, you can tell it doesn’t reach his eyes, “I don’t really like the idea of clothes I bought ending up on a stranger’s floor.”
You paused as you dried your hair, lowering the towel slightly. You weren’t stupid, you had obviously noticed the subtle differences in his behavior since your first meeting. You had noticed his strange insistence on assigning you to missions that had nothing to do with him when he first realized his feelings. You had noticed how this pattern suddenly flipped when he couldn’t help himself from visiting your apartment at least once a week, now recruiting you for his own missions. You had noticed how that had caught the attention of quite a few members, and you had definitely noticed the members that “mysteriously” went missing or wound up in the infirmary for questioning his fixation on you.
Not only that, but his behavior and expressions had also shifted enough for you to notice he had developed feelings inappropriate for your arrangement, “If I didn’t know better, I’d assume you were jealous, Dazai.”
“Trust me, I’m not,” you both knew the truth but pretended to be oblivious. It was easier that way…
You dropped the towel on your chair and made your way towards the bed, the silver lighting from the moon making the atmosphere cold in the dark room, “That’s good… I wouldn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
The comment stung but the executive effortlessly shrugged it off as he grabbed your wrist and pulled you down next to him. You could already tell what he wanted and you closed your eyes before he even pulled you close enough to kiss. This caused him to groan in mild frustration, seeing how unaffected you were with these encounters but he quickly pushed the feeling away as he began to push the emerald-colored silk off your shoulders.
“You shouldn’t be taking direct orders from Mori, you’re my subordinate.”
You stared at him stunned for a second and bursted out into laughter, “Do you realize how crazy you sound? You aren't the boss… At least not yet.”
“I don’t care,” he mumbled against your collarbone as your nightgown finally fell, pooling around your waist, exposing your bare body. He was glad the scent of your body wash and shampoo hid any hint of your victim’s cologne.
You dismissed the comment, tilting your head back slightly for the brunette. His hands were wrapped around your waist and your own ran through his dark curls, “What do you want tonight?”
“Shouldn’t you know that already, mind reader.”
You let out an annoyed sigh as he ruined the mood. You weren’t even going to indulge him with an answer since you both knew your mind manipulation ability didn’t work on him, “Quit being snarky and let’s get to the point.”
His jaw clenched, a small frown making its way to his face but he stayed put, his hair tickling your neck as he began trailing kisses up your throat. Your fingers found their way to the ends of his eye bandage and you carefully untied it as he began marking your skin. Another sign that he was more comfortable with you than he’d like to admit. The gauze fell down when he pulled away for a few seconds.
“How was the mission? You didn’t give much details,” you sighed, his lips on your pulse. You could tell this conversation wasn’t sparked out of mere curiosity.
“The usual. I was sent to clean up after…,” you hesitated slightly. You assumed Mori hadn’t given him details of your assignment and you weren’t about to throw Akutagawa under the bus, “A member failed to kill a witness during a raid: a politician. Luckily, they’re always easy to manipulate.”
“I bet they are,” you gasped as he suddenly pressed you into the mattress, clearly not wanting to hear anymore. He expertly unbuttoned his suit jacket and tossed it on your floor, leaning down to taste your lips. You were quick to reciprocate the gesture as your fingers loosened his tie, pulling him deeper into the kiss.
He eventually pulled away, both of you breathing heavily, and the rest of his clothes soon found themselves on the hardwood floor, alongside your nightgown. His bandages also found their way off his body, a rare occurrence even when it came to sex (or any interaction for that matter).
You sat up, pushing him back a little as you reached into your drawer. He knew the protocol, despite being on birth control, you asked him to wear a condom for safety. He didn’t mind obviously, he was used to this. What really stung was seeing the various different brands and sizes, reminding him that he was just like all of your other playthings. He wasn’t special and he interpreted it as a lack of trust on your part. Obviously, he was known for sleeping around but if you cared enough, you would’ve known that he stopped that a few months into knowing you.
He didn’t vocalize his complaints, laying back down on the bed as you got on your knees in front of him. He could hear the sound of the package opening and shivered as you rolled the rubber onto his cock. You didn’t waste your time, your hands slowly stroking his cock as your lips gently pressed kisses against his thigh, causing him to let out a sigh, eyes closed as he relaxed further into the mattress. And in a moment of desperation, his mind seeked anything to make himself feel less pathetic and replaceable: at least you remembered what brand he liked, that must’ve meant something.
His hand found its way into your damp hair as you finally wrapped your lips around his tip and he groaned softly, grabbing onto your roots. You ignored the slight sting and instead focused on bobbing your head up and down at a leisurely pace, clearly teasing your superior. Despite his annoyance, he stayed fairly quiet, only retaliating by thrusting his hip and pressing your head further down onto him. This caused a small gag to escape your mouth before you adjusted to his length quickly, being accustomed to his impatient behavior.
You allowed him to guide your head, a clear attempt to regain control on his end, as his face scrunched up, focused on the sensation of your warm mouth wrapped around him. It didn’t take long for him to feel himself approaching his release, feeling as if he were drowning in pleasure and you moaned into his member, knowing he would cum soon as his thighs trembled faintly. He hissed, pushing your head as far down as he could, hitting the back of your throat as he came.
You pulled away, wiping the drool and cum off your chin before licking it and the flavored lube off your fingers. The lanky man stayed on his back for a while, panting as he watched you, ignoring the dreadful sensation in his gut, ashamed of how quickly he’d give into pleasure just to be near you. He sighed, removing the condom and tossing it in the bin, finally sitting up and leaning against the bed frame.
“You don’t seem very satisfied yet.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever be satisfied in any aspects of my life,” he sounded so serious for a few seconds, it almost made you worried, “Unless you agreed to commit a double suicide with me.”
You were unbelievably beautiful to him as you laughed at him, immediately rejecting his offer, “Not happening. I enjoy this life too much.”
You opened your bedside drawer once more but you hesitated for a few seconds, staring at the nearly empty boxes. Dazai frowned slightly, wondering what was wrong but before he could ask, you closed the drawer and straddled his lap much to his shock, “Wha–”
You kissed him, tongue pushing past his lips, smiling in satisfaction. It wasn’t often someone could surprise the Demon Prodigy. You briefly pulled away, looking at his stunned expression, “I figured there’s no point wasting another one.”
“You taste like bubblegum,” he remarked, unable to think of anything else to say in the moment as you aligned his tip with your cunt. If he was stupid enough, he’d assume this meant more than it actually did. You let out a small snort at his comment as you slowly sank onto him with a gasp, nails digging into his shoulders.
“Yeah, it’s the only flavor left in the box. Like it?” you mumbled, holding back a moan at the sensation of him stretching you out.
“Don’t use them with anyone else,” he ordered without thinking, head resting against the wooden frame as you took him inside of you bare. He knew this was most likely going to be a one time thing, so he was hoping the condoms would solidify his need to prove his importance to you even if he knew it wasn’t true.
You ignored him, eyes closing as you took him balls deep, a soft moan escaping your lips at the sensation. His cold hands wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his chest, causing you to grind against him, “Fuck…”
He took a deep breath, trying to control his heart. You’d always been more vocal than him in bed but he had a feeling you mostly did it for your partners. It was the same thing he did when he hooked up with someone for information, acting in the specific way he knew they’d like. He couldn’t deny that he found it attractive but it was yet another reminder of the true nature of your relationship.
His fingers dug into your waist as he tried pushing aside his feelings and he began helping you set a pace. You wrapped your arms around him, head tipped back as you whimpered out his name. He grasped this opportunity and kissed the top of your chest before biting into it, hoping to mark you even more. He’d always noticed the sweet taste of your skin and the pleasant smell. If it weren’t for his ability, he would’ve assumed it had something to do with your siren spell.
Your moans and whines only grew louder as Dazai picked up his pace, relishing the sensation of fucking you without protection. Honestly, his delusions were telling him that if he filled you deep enough, you would get pregnant and you’d finally be his. He clung to the stupid thought, thrusting up into your cunt, small groans muffled against your skin as he screwed his eyes shut in concentration.
You reached down for your clit as you watched him through half-lidded, sensing that your night would end soon. The brunette’s eyes snapped open in annoyance as he slapped your hand away, “The hell do you think you’re doing?”
You shivered at the cold tone of his voice, clenching around him from the sternness and you gasped out in shock as his finger tip replaced yours. It took only a few more seconds for you to slump against him, body shaking as you cried out his name as waves of pleasure took over you. He bit his lip hard in response, feeling the tight grip of your cunt on his cock, causing him to draw blood as he pushed himself as deep as he could before cumming, filling you with his warm seed.
You both stayed entangled for a minute, catching your breath as you recovered. Unsurprisingly, you were the first to pull away, standing up and grabbing the emerald robe on the ground to cover yourself.
“Feel free to shower before you leave, Dazai,” your voice was nonchalant as you stepped out of the room to fix yourself dinner, “I’ll take another mine later.”
Pairing: Zombie!Osamu Dazai x Reader
Summary: Have zombies always talked? Actually, this one might just be malfunctional...
Warnings: This is mostly silly fluff but there are zombies, blood, injuries and violence, so don't read if you don't like those concepts.
Word Count: 2191
Credits: @wethairjoel thank you for the dividers!
Dazai had always found it seemingly ironic that he, out of everyone he knew, was the first to turn. Honestly, he expected Kunikida would’ve been caught first due to his neuroticism . It hadn’t even been intentional, he never wanted to die like this. It was painful and, worst of all, he was practically immortal now until someone blew his brains out or found a cure for zombification. He should’ve just jumped off a roof when he was still alive.
The man had barely savored the sweet embrace of death before waking back up to a body he barely controlled and a deep insatiable hunger. He’d spent weeks, perhaps months, wandering the deserted city. Dazai could vaguely remember the agency and other aspects of his past life, so he was fairly confident Atsushi was to blame for his current predicament. Of course the kid couldn’t bring himself to kill me…
The brunette wasn’t too upset anymore and he’d relearned a few skills from before the bite. For example, he was glad to find a familiar looking book in an abandoned shop. He had stumbled into the building, sensing a strange pull in his chest and eventually, he managed to reteach himself reading and writing. He was even able to form small sentences if he tried enough.
When it came to… food , Dazai wasn’t very picky. He’d never had a healthy diet even when he was alive, whether it be an unhealthy amount of quick fix meals, eating food that is barely safe for human consumption or straight up skipping multiple meals a day at times. So he had no problem eating humans or any other creature that moved. Hell, he’d even tried eating one of his fellow zombies out of sheer curiosity but he quickly realized why no one else had tried the putrid meat.
His only policy when it came to humans was that he refused to eat women (and children in the honor of an old friend). He’d tried a few times to ask them to kill him but that usually resulted in them screaming, which caught the attention of other zombies, who’d have them for dinner. So he was extremely excited to find you hiding in the back of a rundown pharmacy. He’d been looking for a rat or anything else that might be hiding to eat and was surprised to see you crouching on the ground.
You instinctively let out a gasp, hearing the tall zombie make a grunting or growling sound as he noticed you. You barely managed to grab your baseball bat before the undead creature stumbled towards you and you used all your strength to swing the metal bat at him. The bloodied zombie doesn’t get a chance to react as you swung the bat, hitting his arm, and he falls on top of you, hissing out in surprise as he clutches his now bleeding arm. You let out a scream as the large body collapsed on you but your shout was quickly silenced as the creature’s bloodied hand pressed against your mouth.
You froze, heart racing as you felt the cold and thick blood smear against your face. Your nausea rose and you prepared yourself to die. What you didn’t expect was for the undead man to speak, “A-ah… Sssorry… Need be quiet.”
They could talk? Was that even possible? You stared at the creature horrified and now that you were so close, you finally took notice of his appearance. His dark curls were matted due to dirt, debris and old blood. He was tall, lanky and his complexion seemed to be a whitish gray, a clear sign that he was dead. His clothes would’ve looked fairly normal but the dirty bandages covering his arms and neck were odd. His eyes filled you with discomfort. The lack of oxygen made them slightly cloudy but you felt like you could see a faint trace of intelligence in them.
Your attention finally snapped back to the zombie on top of you as he removed his uninjured hand to motion you to be quiet. He glanced down at his other arm, seeing the bone poking out of his arm slightly and he hesitantly began to unwrap the bandages on his right arm. You nearly gagged at the sight of the bone sticking out of his arm and the putrid smell of old blood filling the small space between you. You flinched as he then wrapped the bloodied gauze around your neck and body. He tied the old cloth and began to stand up, no longer pining you to the ground.
The sound of crashing outside the door caused you to panic but you realized this zombie, against all odds, seemed to be helping you. The lanky man dipped his fingers into his wound as you stood up reluctantly, grabbing your bag. He limped as he approached you again and he painted more blood onto your exposed skin. You trembled faintly as he grabbed your hand, beginning to lead you out of the back room. You tried your best to ignore the tears building up in your eyes as the brunette led you to the pharmacy’s front counter, away from the door that swung open from the bodies pushing against it.
Dazai’s voice dragged as he attempted to talk, “Climb…”
You silently nodded, wiping your eyes swiftly, hoping he didn’t notice as you hopped over the small counter. The zombie struggled slightly to climb over and fell on the ground next to you, causing you to gasp, “Are you-”
He sent you a serious look, shaking his head to shut you up and you noticed a handful of zombies crawling towards the two of you, drawn to the sound you two created. Dazai pulled himself off the ground and grabbed your wrists, “Trust…me.”
You allowed him to lead you towards the doors, trying to ignore the rising anxiety in your chest as you both approached the bloodied undead creatures blocking the entrance. You let out a shaky breath of relief as you managed to walk past the zombies without arising any suspicion. Once Dazai reached the broken glass door, he helped you climb out of the store.
The cold air hitting your skin felt like a blessing and you let out a small laugh of relief, feeling yourself tear up. Dazai let go of your arm, allowing you to process your near death experience. Once you calmed down, you glanced at the zombie and mumbled, “Thank you.”
The man seemed a little surprised but smiled. He opened his mouth, clearly attempting to speak and his voice came out strained, “Daa… Dazai…”
You frowned in mild confusion but realized that was a name, “Is that your name?”
The lanky zombie nodded. You quietly introduced yourself and the man struggled to repeat the name, trying his best to make use of his vocal cords after so long. You glanced at the undead man and began to weigh your options, uncertain about how safe it would be to travel with him. You ignored your rational thinking and began walking in the direction of your building.
After a few steps, you noticed Dazai wasn’t following and you glanced back at him, “Are you coming?”
This caught the man off guard but he eagerly followed after you.
You carefully guided Dazai through the back entrance of the deserted apartment building to avoid other zombies. You both made your way to the top floor, where you kept all of your essentials.
Dazai was surprised to see a cat sitting on the couch and it took a lot of self restraint for him to not rush towards the small animal to eat it. You didn’t notice his struggle as you dropped off your bag and bat, before walking into another room to find things for Dazai. By the time you got back into the living room, you were carrying clothes and a first aid kit.
“Follow me,” you said, growing a little more comfortable with the man. He followed closely, intrigued by the things in your hands. His confusion only grew as you opened the door to the bathroom and you sat the clothes and kit on the shelf. You picked up one of the large water containers by the tub to fill it up.
“Will you be able to bathe on your own?” you finally asked, a little hesitant as you looked back at the zombie. His frown of confusion and offense almost made you laugh. After pouting for a little longer, Dazai eventually shook his head, mildly uncomfortable with the idea of being naked but with his broken arm, he needed help.
“Alright… I’ll step out for a bit. Feel free to get in the water and begin to wash yourself,” with that, you left as he prepared himself to bathe. By the time you got back in with a few towels, he was already sitting in the tub and seeing the water had turned a dark murky color, you realized you had a lot of work to do.
You also noticed he hadn’t removed his gauze and you frowned, “Umm… you need to remove those for now…”
I can tell the man didn’t like the idea but he slowly began unwrapping the fabric around his neck, chest and arm with your help. Your eyes focused on the various different scars on his body, realizing many of them looked like they were self afflicted, and the main one that caught your attention was the unhealed bite mark on his left hand. You quickly looked away when you realized Dazai was staring at your face.
You helped him scrub the dirt and blood off his cold body, careful not to harm him and you carefully washed the blood and grime out of his hair. The cleaning process took two more rinse and clean cycles before he could finally get out of the tub to dress himself.
You faced the door, trying to be polite and make him comfortable. Once he has pants on, he calls out to you, “Need help… Bandages…”
You turn around and your breath catches slightly. You hadn’t realized just how attractive the undead man was, even in this state, so you couldn’t imagine how beautiful he looked when he was alive. You cleared your throat, feeling your face grow warm and you looked away, “Right.”
Dazai noticed your expression and a familiar sense of amusement filled him as he watched you scramble through the first aid kit. His teasing nature resurfaced for the first time in months and he didn’t hold back a teasing smile.
You paid it no mind as you finally found your rolls of gauze and turned to face him, “I’m going to need to set your bone back into place.”
The sickly pale man nodded, holding out his right arm and you almost forgot that you didn’t need to worry about causing him pain. You took a sharp inhale before grabbing a towel and forcing the bone back into place, underneath his flesh. Once that was done, you wiped the mostly coagulated blood off his arm. You carefully bandaged it up and then proceeded to help him wrap himself back up in clean gauze.
When you finished and pinned the ends securely, you were confused by Dazai gently clasping your hands into his cold ones and looking at you with somewhat lively eyes. His voice was still hoarse as he spoke but it was clear his vocal chords were getting used to speaking again, “Belladonna…”
You frowned in confusion, wondering what the man was about to say. Your heart nearly lept out of your chest as he pulled your hands towards his neck. Your mind began to run through over a thousand different romantic scenarios but that all fell apart quickly, “Will you do me the honor of killing me?”
“Excuse me?” you stated, stunned, immediately pulling your hands out of his grasp as your small fantasies shattered.
The man didn’t seem ashamed or embarrassed by his request as he contined in a rough voice, “Or even better, join me in a double suicide.”
You stared at Dazai like he was insane and you stood up, “Get out.”
The man wasn’t surprised by the reaction but he was amused none of the less, “but you took me in-”
You pulled him up to his feet and shoved the pajama top you’d found in the closet into his arms, “You can sleep in the closet. You’re getting on my nerves.”
With that, you slammed the door in his face and leaned against the door for a moment, covering your face. What the hell was wrong with you? How did he even manage to make you feel so giddy? He was basically dead, damn it!
Dazai stood by the door for a few seconds, an amused smile as he heard you groan in frustration. He finally stepped away when he heard you getting ready to bathe and he made his way through the apartment, looking for a bedroom. No way he would be sleeping in the closet when there was a perfectly good spot in your bed.
Pairing: Barbara Gordon x Reader
Summary: Your plans to charm and comfort your girlfriend quickly fall apart much to your dismay…
Warnings: Fluff but there are mild spoilers for The Babadook movie.
Word Count: 740
Credits: @sweetmelodygraphics thank you for the divider!
A/N: Let's pretend I'm not late by a few days… Anyways, I hope everyone enjoys and I will be using the storm as a reason to write up a few more fics!
“I would rather fight Condiment King than watch Scream again,” Barbara stated plainly, not looking up from her book. That was a bit of a harsh ranking in your opinion but the sentiment was understandable.
You let out a soft laugh, “Okay… Fair enough. How about The Babadook? I’ve never actually had the chance to watch it and I’ve heard it’s scary.”
Babs considered it for a moment as she set aside her novel, “I actually haven’t seen it either but I’ve been meaning to watch it.”
“Great,” you exclaimed, kissing her softly before standing up, “I’ll go grab us some snacks–”
She gave you a sweet grin and began setting up the movie as you left the living room. By the time you came back with a variety of candies, drinks and fresh popcorn, you saw that she had pirated the movie much to your surprise.
“Quick question,” you began with an amused look, glancing at the redhead sitting on the couch as you set the snacks down on the coffee table next to her, “Didn’t Dick give you the password to his Max account? I mean, you might as well take advantage of the fact that you’re friends with billionaires.”
“And? I don’t like streaming services. Not secure enough,” Barb said jokingly, finally beginning the movie.
Your expectations for the movie were not very high since you usually didn’t scare easily. You assumed this horror movie would’ve been the perfect excuse to cuddle up to your gorgeous girlfriend and comfort her, but you had clearly forgotten how unphased she was to the genre and underestimated the movie.
The first half hour had been rather uneventful as you both commented and joked about the movie but the fun quickly began to dwindle as you became hyper aware of the shadows in the dark living room.
“That book is really unsettling,” you stated, trying to focus on talking instead of the feeling of anxiety building in the pit of your stomach. Babs hummed as she sat next to you, leaning on the couch’s armrest.
“Am I crazy or is this child not acting in a relatively normal way for a neglected child..?” Babs said not at all disturbed by the movie, instead seemingly analyzing the characters behaviors.
“I don’t really care much about the kid’s behavior, the mom is starting to freak me out…,” you mumbled, “His magic tricks are sick though for a first grader.”
Barbara chuckled slightly at your comment, “Yeah, he is also pretty craftsy for a six year old.”
The red head glances at your expression and body language, finally noticing this movie was getting to you. She luckily didn’t feel the need to call you out or tease you, instead gently grabbing your hand to comfort you. You used this move as a sign to scoot closer to your girlfriend.
“Oh my God-,” you whispered anxiously as you watched the mother quickly began to spiral and lose control. You buried your face into Barbara’s hair, unable to keep focusing on the screen as the woman on screen picks up the knife while yelling at her son. Barb gave you a small apologetic smile as she ran her fingers up and down your arm. The movie went on and you could feel your anxiety rise with every second the camera panned to shadows or focused on wide shots.
You clutched the blanket closer to your frame as you tried cuddling up closer to Barbara, seeking a sense of security. Once the credits finally rolled around, you still clinged onto your poor girlfriend’s arm, lifting your head up slightly in embarrassment, “This isn’t how I envisioned tonight going…”
The woman next to you lifted her brow in curiosity as she glanced at you, “What exactly were you planning, Silly?”
You pouted in feign annoyances, cheeks hot from embarrassment as you lifted your head off her shoulder, “I thought I would be the one comforting you…”
She laughed, seeing your shy expression, “Well, maybe next time. I think you looked very cute clinging onto me.”
You let out a small huff, hiding your face in her hair once more. After a few seconds, you eventually mumbled something against her, “Do you think I could stay the night? I don’t think I’m going to sleep if I go home.”
She let out a loud laugh, eventually nodding as she softly kissed the top of your head, “Of course, Love.”
Pairing: Incubus!Fyodor Dostoevsky x Nun!Reader
Summary: You've caught the eye of a powerful demon. Let's see how devoted to God you really are...
Warnings: MDNI, smut, inappropriate use of religion, demons, vaginal sex, dubious consent, implied somnophilia, semi public sex, corruption, loss of virginity, biting, blood, a little rough
Word Count: 1978
Credits: @saradika thank you for the dividers!
Translations: добыча (n) - prey; Бог (n) - God; Ангел (n) - angel; Родная (n) - darling
A/N: I am not religious, so hopefully this isn’t too inaccurate (not that it really matters). Also, I'm not trying to be disrespectful. I just figured religion and demons would make sense for Fyodor. Also, I don't speak Russian but I tried my best to find the proper translations.
You didn’t even know when it all started. The sense of being watched as you did your prayers that you couldn't ignore. The feeling of a ghostly presence touching you innocently during the morning mass, reminding you that you weren’t alone. You couldn’t even get a decent night’s rest. And the dreams…
They haunt you every night and day. The dreams were always foggy. The sensation of someone, or something, feasting on your cunt as you lay there unconscious, moaning softly. Your mind only processed pleasure and you would always wake up soaked in your own arousal, breathless from your orgasm. It made you feel disgusting and miserable. However... Each night you laid in your bed, you couldn’t help but wait impatiently for those dreams.
The guilt of your actions and thoughts eventually led you to seek out help from one of the priests. It was late at night, and all of the other nuns had returned to their rooms to sleep, but you needed to repent. You quickly stepped into the confessional booth and you were relieved when you saw the silhouette of the priest on the other side. You kneeled and crossed yourself.
“Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been two weeks since my last confession, and I accuse myself of the following sins,” You took a sharp breath before speaking up, “I’ve been having lustful thoughts and dreams, Father, and I’ve done nothing to try and stop it. I've... I’ve even pleasured myself to the thoughts.”
The priest stayed quiet for a few seconds before he spoke, his Russian accent sounding strangely familiar but also foreign, “How long has this been going on for…?”
“About two weeks, Father… This is my first time telling anyone.”
“And why is that?”
“I didn’t seek help because, ultimately, I think a part of me enjoys it… I can’t even focus on my duties without thinking about those dreams-”
The sound of the priest’s cold chuckle made a chill run down your spine. “You really can’t get me out of your head? How cute.”
His tone was condescending and you finally made eye contact with his piercing purple eyes. You didn’t even have the time to question how the man appeared next to you so quickly before he pinned you to the wall of the booth.
You yelped, shock written over your expression now that you could see him clearly. The man had long black hair, topped with curled horns. His vibrant eyes glared at you and his lips pulled into a smirk sensing your fear. His pale hands touched your cheek, his sharp nails grazing it slightly.
“What are you?” you asked with a shaky voice but you had a pretty good idea of who he might be.
“I don’t think I told you you could speak, Y/N," he growled. His frigid fingers trailed down to your throat and he wrapped them around it. He slowly began to tighten his grip, causing you to gasp for breaths.
Your fingers desperately grasped his thin wrist as you struggled to get oxygen into your lungs. Fyodor dug his claws into your throat, a few small red droplets escaping from the small cuts, "I've been studying you for about a year now..."
The demon loosened his grip, his nails softly grazing their way down to your collar, tugging on your nightgown. You screw your eyes shut in a panic, grasping at your silver rosary, "Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio, contra nequitiam et insidias diaboli esto praesidium-"
"That won't work, добыча," his sharp purple gaze analyzed your body language before ripping the silver crucifix from your hands, the beads falling to the ground as the string snapped.
You felt your eyes tearing up, panic setting in as you attempted to move away from the devil in front of you, "Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur-"
Unfortunately for you, the confession booths were only so big. Your back hit the wooden wall and you cried out for your God.
"My curiosity eventually got the best of me a few weeks ago and I decided to try an experiment. You see, I have identified you as the most dedicated little lamb and I began to wonder: 'How quickly can I corrupt one of Бог's faithful little play thing?'"
You didn't stop reciting your prayer to Saint Michael, tears streaming down your face. You heard the demon shuffling and your eyes snapped open in a frenzy. Nothing could've prepared you for the sight of Fyodor on his knees before you.
"It took me a long time to finally decide what approach to take when it comes to tempting you," his accent grew thicker as he took your ankle in his hands, "One of my top contenders was driving you to gut all of your sisters at the abbey."
"God won't allow it-," your chest tightened with uneasiness and you began struggling against his grasp. This was obviously the wrong choice and the dark haired monster simply pulled your leg closer to him, causing you to slide down the wall slightly.
He then proceeded to lift your leg over his shoulder, your nightgown bushing up around your thighs. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight. You now understood exactly what Milton was trying to express when he described Lucifer as irresistible because the sight of Fyodor on his knees in front of you was enough to make you feel faint.
"But I figured this would be much more entertaining," the devil smirked, leaning forward to seemingly kiss your thigh. Your mind fought with you to stay focused on your prayer and your teachings. God will save us. But any semblance of a rational thought escaped your mind when you felt a sharp pain in your thigh.
You cried out, feeling the blood rush to the site where Fyodor bit you. The demon doesn't pull away, eager to taste the metallic and salty liquid, holding you tight as you struggle against his grasp.
Your sobs echoed through the church but Fyodor didn't seem to care. The priests were decommissioned one might say and the demon was quite exhilarated at the prospect of one of your sisters walking in on the two of you in the house of the Lord.
"Get off-," your shouts fell on deaf ears as he trails his mouth further up your thighs. The warm liquid (a stark contrast to the man's cold skin) running down your thigh filling the small booth with the sharp smell of iron.
Your body betrayed you as a small gasp fell from your lips. His mouth left open mouth kisses until he reached your bare core and your mouth fell open in silent pleasure. Your attempts to push him away had died down, your hands, which had been shoving his horns to create space between the two of you, now rested helplessly in his hair.
Your moans and gasp filled the small wooden room, back arching away from the wall as Fyodor's sharp tongue explored the depth of your cunt.
The devil appeared to be pleased with your response, feeling your legs beginning to tremble, and he pulled away with a mocking smirk. Your disappointment was visible as he stands but you refused to vocalize it. Instead, you began mumbling a prayer of repentance, which filled the purple-eyed demon with annoyance.
He grabbed your wrist, dragging you out of the confessional booth, ignoring your limp as blood continued to drip down your leg, staining your white nightgown crimson. The altar statues and stained glass figures looked down upon you and a deep sense of shame filled your heart.
Fyodor forced you to lay on one of the pews in the front row. You took a sharp inhale, not pushing him away as he began removing your nightgown, revealing your bare skin.
The sound of your breathing filled your ears as he pushed his robes aside and revealed his member. Worry flooded your mind once more as you realized your vow to God was at risk, "Please... Let me go..."
However, the devil rejoiced in your torment as he climbed on top of you and aligned himself with your entrance, "But where's the fun in that, Ангел?"
His purple glare pierced you as he looked down on you with a cold and calculating gaze and you cried out as he suddenly entered you, back arching and fingers clinging onto his stolen uniform. His thrusts were relentless and punishing, not caring that this was your first time.
Your cries soon turned to whines and moans as he maintained a steady rhythm. Your face contorted with pleasure, eyes squeezing shut, "Keep your eyes open, Ангел. I want you to see the Saints as I ruin you,"
You attempted to shake your head but he grabbed your cheeks, nails digging into your skin painfully, forcing you to open your eyes and look up at him. The scene above you was strangely ethereal as the horrifyingly beautiful man looked down on you, his head surrounded with the colorful stained glass as he carefully reached down, brushing his thumb against your lower lip, and you felt your walls clamp down around his cock.
"I think you have still not completely forsaken your god," he whispered, leaning closer to you, lips brushing against your pulse as he stopped thrusting.
You audibly whimpered as he pulled out of you and sat down on the pew. You sat up, confused by why he stopped. You hesitated slightly, using your arms to cover your chest in a pathetic attempt to regain some dignity, "Father...?"
"If you want more, you'll have to work for it and give yourself up to me," he said with a cocky grin, his hair slightly disheveled from our prior activities. You couldn't deny your body craved for more but your pride did prevent you from eagerly sitting on his lap.
It took you a few minutes to finally give into your instincts and you hesitantly sank onto his lap, whining at the stretch inside you. Without thinking, you suddenly kissed the demon, a tugging sensation nagging you in the back of your mind.
Fyodor kept a careful eye on you as you kissed him, amused to finally see you submit. He closed his eyes, deepening the kiss as you tried your best to start riding him.
The devil nipped your tongue in the fiery kiss, causing you to bleed slightly, and he gently sucked on it. You moaned against his lips as his hands drifted to your hips to help you speed up the pace.
Your hands grabbed onto his hair, tugging at his roots as you continued to kiss him feverishly. Your boobs bounced, matching the rhythm Fyodor set and you felt the sensation you had grown far too familiar with overtake you as you moaned.
Your body shuddered as you came, walls clenching around Fyodor's dick tightly. For the first time of the night, you also saw his expression falter for a split second as he shut his purple eyes and let out a sharp exhale before cumming deep into your womb.
Despite reaching your peaks, Fyodor didn't stop to thrust up into you, almost as if he were trying to make sure his load stayed inside of you. Your whines began to fill his ears as you complained about overstimulation and, in the most shocking turn of events, the demon listened to you, pulling out.
You struggled to catch your breath, still leaning against the cold inhumane creature overwhelmed. Fyodor looked down at you and pondered for a few seconds.
Just as you prepared yourself to stand and get dressed, Fyodor's hand moved to your chin and made you look up to him.
"You can call me Fyodor," he said, purple eyes piercing through yours, "Your soul and body now belong to me forever, Родная."
Pairing: Clark Kent x Reader (ft. Jon and Conner Kent)
Summary: Ma Kent sent Clark home with way too much pumpkin to carve...
Warnings: No warning, just fluff and family bonding :)
Word Count: 1785
Credits: @strangergraphics thank you for the dividers!
A/N: This is actually my first official fic, so I hope you all enjoy it.
“Clark, these pumpkins are ridiculously massive,” you remarked dryly, staring at the three large pumpkins taking up the entirety of your dining table.
Clark let out a nervous chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck, “Ma insisted that I take them with me for the kids…”
“Did you fly them here? Never mind, don’t answer that. I already know the answer…,” obviously he was Superman so this would’ve been easy for him, but it was difficult to wrap your mind around how strong your husband was at times.
He cleared his throat, sensing that you didn't seem too upset, “Do you think the boys will like them?”
You were still a little disturbed to see your already small kitchen overtaken by pumpkins but you couldn’t help but let out a small laugh, finally setting down your purse on a chair by the kitchen island, “No doubt Jon will love them, that's for sure. Not sure about Conner..."
"I didn't know your parents grew pumpkins... Are these naturally grown?” you asked, approaching the table to touch one of the toddler sized pumpkins curiously.
Clark nodded, amused by your question, and walked up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist, “They don't, a friend gave them to them but they are, in fact, naturally grown."
He stayed quiet for a second before continuing, "You know these pumpkins are actually fairly small compared to our record holders.”
You tried to hide your shock as you looked back at him with a small smile, "I'm not sure if I should be horrified or impressed, Smallville."
He chuckled, kissing the top of your head before letting go of you, “I'll have to show you the contest one of these days."
He began to grab his coat and car keys as he glanced at the time, "I’m going to pick up the boys, Conner's going to be landing soon and Jon probably wants to greet him at the airport."
You nodded, kissing him quickly, careful not to hit his glasses, "Alright, I'll get started with dinner in the meantime. Be quick!"
About 40 minutes later, you recognized the familiar sound of a small child running down the hall and you set down your knife to wipe your hands. You then heard the usual sound of Clark fumbling with his keys and you held back an amused smile, walking towards the door. Before he even got the chance to find his house key, you unlocked the door and opened it.
Clark jumped slightly, feigning shock to maintain his persona even though he definitely heard you, and let out a slight laugh, “Oh! H-hi, Darling.”
"Hi, Love," you greeted him again, glancing at the two boys with him, "You should consider carrying less keys when you go out."
You gave the two young boys a smile as your son ran up to you, hugging your waist, "And hello, boys. How was school?"
Conner gave a wave, removing his sunglasses, and dropped his backpack by the door, “Alright. I got out early, so not too eventful.”
Clark walked past you and Jon, carrying Conner's suitcase to the guest room. You gave Conner an apologetic smile, running your hand through Jon's dark hair, "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, Conner. We figured buying you a flight would be less suspicious than having you show up here using your abilities-"
Conner smiled, shrugging, "It's fine. I get it, I'm just glad I can be here for the weekend."
You turned your attention back to the nine year old next to you, "How were your classes, Jon?"
The boy brightened up, “We had a quiz today and I got 100 on it! And Ms. Sally also let us pair up for science class!”
Jon kept talking for a while longer and Clark ruffled his hair when he finished, "That's great, kid. Conner, I set up your bed and put your bags in there."
"Alright, if you boys are ready, I almost finished dinner and then Clark has a surprise for you two."
Once you finished cooking, the boys walked into the kitchen and Jon gasped, seeing the pumpkins. Before the boy could speak, you quickly told him that the pumpkins were for after dinner, which caused him to pout as he took a seat next to Conner at the kitchen island.
Clark helped you serve dinner and offered you the last chair at the island, deciding to stand next to you as everyone ate. When everyone finished, your husband also insisted on cleaning up. He didn't even allow you to pick up the dirty dishes. So, you turned your attention to the boys and you began to tackle the pumpkins.
“Which pumpkins do you boys want?” you asked, glancing at the kids.
Jon quickly picked out his pumpkin, the smallest one of the three, but it still was quite intimidating to tackle, “I like this shade of orange!”
Clark chuckles slightly, wiping his hands as he approaches the dining table, “Conner?”
“I’ll just take this one,” he shrugged, grabbing the closest one to him.
“Then I guess this leaves us with this one,” Clark told you, pulling the bumpy pumpkin closer to his seat to begin carving it.
“Alright,” you smiled before sitting next to Jon, “I’ll get started with the top for you.”
The boy protested slightly but didn’t seem too annoyed as he moved to sit with Conner. The smell of pumpkin quickly overtook the kitchen and it put you in the fall spirit.
"How many pumpkin pies do you think we could make with all of these?" you asked jokingly as you scoop out the filling of Jon's pumpkin, glancing at Clark and Conner, who were basically done hollowing out their pumpkins.
Conner looked up from his work, Jon practically hanging off of him as he worked on his Jack-o'-lantern, as he responded with a small smirk, "Too much."
"There's no such thing as too much!" Jon exclaimed, stepping away from Conner, letting the teen breathe, "When can I start cutting?"
You smiled slightly, "Soon, I still need to hollow out your pumpkin."
The nine year old nodded, surprisingly patient as he went back to sketching out his plan. Clark noticed you struggling to keep up with his and Conner's super speed and he carefully took your hand, "I'll finish that up. You start tracing the face for our Jack-o'-lantern."
You hesitated slightly, not wanting him to work for you, "No, it's al-"
Your husband cut you off with his sweet smile, "I insist. Anyways, I trust your artistic skills over mine any day."
With that, you resigned and began tracing a fun design on your shared pumpkin, "Boys, do you think I should make a cat or a witch?"
The two kids looked up from their tasks, sharing a glance. Conner spoke up, looking back down at the sketch he was helping Jon with, "Why not both?"
You thought about it for a second before nodding, "That's probably a good idea actually. There's a lot of blank space to use."
The next few minutes were filled with small talk as everyone started focusing on transferring their sketches onto the large pumpkins. Clark helped Jon to the best of his ability, struggling a little to recreate the design Conner helped Jon with. Luckily for the Superman, his son didn't seem upset at all with his mediocre art skills.
The peaceful atmosphere, however, had given you the urge to mess with your poor husband, seeing he was likely too focused on his artwork to notice your scheming.
You glanced at the large bowl of pulp and seeds sitting on the counter next to you and you grabbed a handful, motioning to the boys to be quiet. Conner's eyes widened slightly, catching on to your intentions and he paused his sketching for a few seconds. Jon, on the other hand, was less discreet as he covered his mouth, giggling at the prospect of his father getting pranked.
“Honey?” you called out innocently, suppressing a wide grin.
That caught Clark's attention, "What's wr-"
You dropped the pulp on his head, causing him to flinch for a few seconds as he processed what just happened. A few seconds later, he began to laugh and turned to face you, "Alright, you asked for it!"
This marked the beginning of a food fight in your pristine kitchen, as Clark threw pulp back at you. You let out a small yelp, feeling the cold and slimy filling hit your skin. Conner grinned and teamed up with Jon, throwing their own handfuls of pumpkin pulp at Clark and you.
You feigned a gasp of offense as your boys betrayed you, "How could you? After I offered you both cookies!"
Your cries of playful outrage fell on deaf ears, "Sorry, mom. This is war!"
The food fight ended surprisingly soon as you all ran out of ammo, the seeds and pulp covering nearly every inch of the once clean dining room. Each one of you is also covered in an absurd amount of pumpkin.
"White flags?" everyone nodded, still laughing.
"I'll quickly clean this up, you three start carving so we can put these outside tonight."
You looked at Clark, a little surprised, "You sure? You already cleaned earlier–"
"I've got it, It'll be faster like that anyways," he said, leaning down to kiss you smiling. You happily kissed him back and pulled away to let him clean.
It took him barely two minutes to clean but by that time, Conner finished his detailed pumpkin and you had started guiding Jon through his pumpkin carving journey.
"Thank you so much, Love," you said, smiling as he began carving your design.
"It's really no big deal," Clark responded with a smile, his hair messy from using his superspeed.
By the time you were all finished, you had three drastically different pumpkins: Conner's being a detailed design of his favorite horror movie villains that went around the pumpkin; you had decided to go with a more simple design of a witch with her cat, which Clark had managed to carve out neatly; and Jon had a cute (though a little sloppy) design of Superman and the Superboys on his pumpkin.
“Are they going to fit on the balcony you think?” you asked Clark, both of you staring at the carved pumpkins.
“We’ll make it work,” Clark kissed your cheek as the boys took pictures with their pumpkins, likely to send to Tim and Damien.
“What do you think the neighbors will think?”
“It’ll give ‘em pumpkin to talk about.”
You fought to stop the smile forming on your lip, “That was so corny…”
The dark haired man smiled, “Whatever it takes to make you smile.”
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