ALL HAIL THE RED SOVEREIGN, RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

Having to move to another city to enroll in one of central Tokyo's most prestigious universities had never really been a problem. You adapted quickly to your part-time job at the ramen shop, where the kind owner also offered you a roof over your head. Before you even realized it, you found yourself sharing your days with a black cat who revealed the power tied to your soul.

Being a Persona user had brought both misfortune and precious moments into your life. Through it, you met other students burdened with the same fate, sharing the weight of your mistakes and the consequences of every decision together.

You had lived too much.

Well... in truth, you'd been given the chance to start over after a black carriage struck you one night while you were heading to a nearby laundromat, your laundry basket overflowing with clothes that needed washing.

Arriving in Twisted Wonderland wasn't all that different from your life in Tokyo. Once again, you had a talking cat by your side—one who caused far more trouble than he ever solved; an old man—considerably less trustworthy than the last one—who gave you a damp, dust-covered room to sleep in; and, of course, a group of friends who were just as troublesome as they were dear to you, whom you met only a few days after arriving in that strange new world.

Oh, and there were the Overblots, though they never truly frightened you. After your first battle against a monster in that long-abandoned mine, you discovered that the power still remained within you—and that you could still summon it, even in a world completely different from your own.

And naturally, the dorm leader fighting beside you noticed the majestic entity rising behind your back, nearly as massive as the Phantom looming behind the Overblot you were trying to stop. Yet despite its overwhelming presence, your expression remained perfectly calm.

Riddle

♡ The crimson leader was utterly astonished. While everyone else chose to run away and hide, selfishly protecting themselves, you stood your ground before the Overblot—one notoriously taller and far more dangerous than your small frame.

♡ He had faint, blurry memories of that very same expression you wore now before the Ink Lion: your narrowed gaze fixed unwaveringly on the target you were determined to stop. You were so resolute that not even Leona's deafening roar made you flinch.

♡ With the same determination, he took his place beside you, gripping his staff tightly, ready to fight at your side.

♡ Out of the corner of his eye, he couldn't help but notice how tightly you clutched the weapon you carried everywhere around the school under the excuse of it being for self-defense—and how your hands still trembled around the trigger. Riddle trusted that you would never hurt anyone with it.

♡ What he never expected was to see you raise it directly to your own head without the slightest hesitation after shouting, "Persona!"

♡ He barely had time to react, fear gripping him over whatever might happen next. His surprise only grew when blue flames burst forth, forcing him backward and halting his movements.

♡ His eyes lit up as an entity nearly as massive as Leona's Phantom emerged behind you, obeying every one of your commands without hesitation. He noticed how lost you seemed within yourself, yet even then, you never stopped worrying about the people around you.

♡ The moment the battle ended with you standing victorious, Riddle hurried to catch you in his arms before you could collapse to the ground. You had exhausted far too much energy, and your anxiety had consumed you beyond what your body could endure.

♡ Without a doubt, once you had fully recovered, the two of you would have a very long conversation about that "magic" you seemed to wield—and how deeply it was intertwined with your very soul.

Leona

♡ The lion had never been one to look after others. Yet, a part of himself quietly urged him to do just that. So when Azul's Overblot spiraled out of control, Leona was the one who chose to remain on the front lines and stop the prideful octopus.

♡ He never expected a mere herbivore—someone he barely knew and who was already causing him more trouble than he cared to deal with—to flatly refuse his order to leave. And while he wasn't about to turn down an extra pair of hands, what truly caught him off guard was the moment you drew the weapon that always rested at your right hip.

♡ What happened next was almost impossible to believe. Without the slightest hesitation, you raised the weapon, pulled the trigger with conviction, and shouted, "Persona!"

♡ Leona held his ground for as long as he could, keeping his eyes on you as blue flames engulfed your body, leaving only your glowing eyes visible. All he could hope was that, whatever this turned out to be, it wouldn't become a problem on the same scale as the Overblot.

♡ When he was finally able to look up, he found a grotesque-looking entity standing behind you. Despite its terrifying appearance, it seemed to acknowledge only your voice, obeying every command you gave without question as it mercilessly attacked the Overblot before it.

♡ His muscles tensed as he watched you issue each command with unwavering confidence and calm precision. You moved as though this was far from your first time doing something like this—a detail that certainly didn't escape the dorm leader's notice.

♡ Once everything had settled, Leona pulled you aside to a secluded spot so the two of you could talk about what he had just witnessed. Had you lied to them about who—or what—you really were?

♡ That was when you told him the story of your life before arriving in this world: how you had constantly fought to stop disasters caused by others, risking yourself to protect people while never expecting anything in return. Leona found himself at a loss for words. Even for someone who had grown up surrounded by magic, what you described sounded utterly unbelievable.

♡ Even so, he chose to stay by your side and help however he could. From what he had come to understand, the path you walked was one filled with danger—and he wasn't about to let you face it alone.

Azul

♡ The heart-wrenching scream that tore from your throat snapped him out of his thoughts. Azul had been so absorbed by the Overblot before him—and by the plan he was already devising—that he had barely noticed your presence behind him.

♡ The moment his eyes landed on you, he had to shield his face from the intense wave of scorching air radiating from your body. Through narrowed eyes, he watched as your school uniform transformed, changing before his very eyes while the blue flames surrounding you slowly faded away.

♡ He didn't even have the chance to speak before his pupils shrank. Without realizing it, he instinctively took a step back at the sight of the figure that had appeared behind you—an imposing entity that seemed to mirror your every movement.

♡ He remembered very little of what happened afterward; the memories were frustratingly blurred. But one thing he was absolutely certain of was that the graceful fighter before him was the very same prefect from another world.

♡ For weeks afterward, Azul couldn't get those events out of his mind, even after everyone else had stopped talking about them. As far as he understood, you didn't possess even a trace of magic. So then... how had you—

♡ After conducting an extensive investigation through methods that were... ethically questionable, yet remarkably effective, he finally decided to pay a visit to the abandoned dormitory. He had been fully prepared to strike any kind of contract if that was what it took to learn the truth behind what had happened that day.

♡ As it turned out, there was no need. The moment he arrived and asked his question, you simply invited him inside, and before he knew it, he was sitting in the dorm's lounge, quietly listening as you told him your story.

♡ He hadn't known you could speak so well with black cats, too. Though yours seemed considerably grumpier than Lucius.

Kalim

♡ Before anything else, Scarabia's sun thought only of protecting you from Jamil's Overblot—the very one he had unknowingly caused. Kalim knew you could take care of yourself, but what kind of person would he be if, once again, he let others bear the consequences of his own mistakes?

♡ Although he felt proud to hear you refuse to leave him to fight alone against the monster his right-hand man had become, worry gripped him once more as he watched you step forward to claim your place on the battlefield against the boy blinded by blot.

♡ He tried to pull you back and create some distance to keep you out of danger, but a powerful gust of wind erupted from your direction, pushing him back several feet. The force was so strong that he instinctively shielded his face and squeezed his eyes shut.

♡ When he finally opened them again, the world had been bathed in an eerie blue glow from the flames pouring out of your body. He noticed that your school uniform had changed, and that you were holding a mask tightly in your hand before slowly placing it over your face.

♡ What followed was a battle unlike anything he had ever witnessed, not even in the most fantastical movies. The entity standing behind you mirrored your every movement with unwavering precision, obeying each of your commands without the slightest hesitation. Kalim could only stare in stunned amazement, his mouth hanging open at the unbelievable sight unfolding before his eyes.

♡ And of course, once everything had finally settled down, Kalim wasted no time visiting your dorm to ask what had happened and what all of that had been. If you were Overblotting as well, then you needed to tell him as soon as possible so he could find you help before you ended up like the others.

♡ A few weeks later, when things had finally calmed down, Kalim couldn't help telling everyone just how incredible you had been in battle—while doing his best to keep your secret safe.

Vil

♡ The leader of Pomefiore had heard about your achievements against the previous Overblots that had occurred at the school, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't understand how a human with no trace of magic could possess enough strength to stand against the black blot.

♡ It wasn't until he was personally caught up in the battle against Idia that he finally realized why. You never backed down—instead, you rushed headfirst into the fight without a hint of fear.

♡ Vil didn't stop you when you hurried to fight alongside him, though his curiosity wasn't enough to let him allow you to put yourself in more danger than you could handle. His wand remained at the ready, prepared to strike the moment it became necessary.

♡ The deafening crash, accompanied by your piercing scream, was what finally made him react.

♡ You looked like something straight out of a movie scene. No special effects could ever compare to how magnificent the blue flames looked as they engulfed you.

♡ And then he understood your power when he saw the entity standing behind you. It resembled the Phantoms he had only ever read about in ancient magic books, yet it also seemed far more subdued and sorrowful than any of them.

♡ Some time later, once peace had returned, the dorm leader summoned you to the library. You found him waiting beside a small stack of books, all of them about the Phantoms of his world, eager to learn more about the being that seemed so deeply connected to you.

♡ Everything finally made sense once you explained that it was tied to your soul and the way your mind worked.

♡ So that was why your Persona seemed so melancholic...

Idia

♡ For the love of the Great Seven, you had almost given him a heart attack. Right in the middle of the battle against Malleus's Overblot, he caught you pressing a gun to your temple—one he hadn't even realized you'd been carrying beneath your uniform vest this whole time.

♡ His fingers flew across his keyboard with the same speed he used to snag limited-edition merch online, desperately trying to stop whatever you were about to do. But your movements were faster.

♡ He barely had time to react when you shouted, "Persona!" An entity that looked like the final boss of a turn-based RPG materialized behind you, standing tall without a hint of fear.

♡ The battle ended before he could even process what had just happened. By the time he'd finally started piecing everything together, the Overblot had already vanished. Once life returned to something resembling normal, he asked to speak with you in private about what seemed to be something only he had noticed—everyone else was convinced that Idia himself had somehow programmed the Phantom.

♡ Wait... seriously? Everything you were telling him was actually real? This was a goldmine. Your story could become an entire RPG franchise. Hold on a second—he needed to grab his tablet before you continued so he could write down every single idea and anecdote you had.

♡ After the biggest scare of his life had finally worn off, the explanation you gave him about how every Phantom you could summon was tied to a different facet of your psyche completely captured his attention. It felt just like one of those games where you had to collect dozens of rare and unique companions to complete the entire roster.

♡ Oh, and of course, he was absolutely fascinated when you explained how the switching system between them actually worked.

♡ ...Are you absolutely sure he couldn't have one? You know... without having to risk his life every time he tried to summon it?

Malleus

♡ The dragon had encountered countless warriors who never feared battle, each possessing the courage that a seasoned fighter needed to keep under control in order to continue fighting with honor. But you... You were merely a human who refused to run from trouble, choosing instead to face it head-on without asking anyone for help.

♡ Needless to say, you had done more than simply catch his attention—you had awakened a deep curiosity within him. You were as fragile as any magicless human, and yet you hadn't taken even a single step back when the Overblot erupted right before your eyes.

♡ From your hip, you drew a weapon. Malleus watched with quiet anticipation, waiting to see what you would do next. For the first time in a long while, the serious expression he always wore faltered when you suddenly pressed the weapon against the side of your head and shouted, "Persona!" with a strength he had never heard from you before.

♡ What followed was seeing you engulfed in flames, much like the fire that surrounded him whenever he appeared somewhere. But your flames were warm, shimmering in shades of blue as they completely enveloped you before revealing your face once more. Behind you, an imposing figure rose into view.

♡ Malleus hadn't realized that this was how human weapons worked... He would have to ask Lilia about it later.

♡ And a few days later, while recounting the incident to Lilia, he watched in confusion as the older fae let out a startled cry, his face turning pale with horror. It was then that Malleus realized this was probably not something normal after all.

♡ That very night, he appeared in the garden outside your dormitory window, still full of questions. Lilia had practically forced him to go and make sure that his Child of Man was still alive.

♡ You couldn't help but laugh at Malleus's innocence. Sometimes, his lack of understanding when it came to human matters was almost unbelievable. Even so, you patiently explained everything that had happened.

♡ He listened attentively, asking question after question whenever something confused him. By the end of your explanation, he fully understood that your Persona was deeply connected to both your mind and your soul. Though he never voiced it aloud, he had noticed that the beings who appeared alongside you carried an unmistakable air of melancholy... and, quietly, he resolved to find a way to help you bear that burden.

You had found a small kitchen stocked full of all sorts of foods and drinks, and lucky for you, a very fresh organic looking glass bottle or orange juice that had Michael's name written all over it. Your eyes lit up as you grabbed the bottle, heart jumping for joy at the cold feeling of it against your hand. You quickly hurried out of the room, practically skipping down the hall with glee.

As you turned the corner, 2 members of the run crew collided right into you. Fearful of the orange juice dropping and smashing into pieces, you focused on cradling it carefully. The shove sent you rolling over your foot and slamming into the wall beside you. You felt a sharp pain shoot up from your leg, face twisting in pain. The two men quickly set down the large box they were carrying, going over to your side to make sure you were okay. You pushed yourself off the wall, holding the glass tightly. As you placed your weight back onto your right foot, another burst of pain hit you. After a lot of fussing, you assured the two men you were fine, despite the tears threatening to fall. You shooed them off, not wanting to hold up anything that might be important to the show.

When they finally left you glanced down at your throbbing foot, biting at your lip as you tried to convince yourself it was fine. You just need to catch your breath, that was all. You rested against the wall for a moment, regulating your breath before you pushed down the hall. The limp was immediate. You felt like putting weight on the foot was like a hundred needles stabbing at your nerves. You kept your mind on the comfy couch that you could plop onto when you got back to the greenroom, pushing away the mere thought that something was seriously wrong.

When you stepped back in you immediately smiled, handing Michael the glass bottle. “Tada!!”

His eyes sparkled at the sight of the drink, carefully taking it from your hands with a smile. “You actually found some!?”

You laughed and made a beeline for the couch, immediately taking all the weight off your foot as you sat down. Relief flooded you instantly, the stabbing pain dying down, now it was just throbbing.

Michael looked at you through the mirror, taking note of the slight pinch of your brows. “Where’d you find it?”

You leaned against the couch, “I found a small kitchen, luckily they had some. I was worried I’d have to sneak off to a market.” You laughed, expression easing back into a smile.

Michael laughed, “Yeah right, there’s no way I would’ve let you go out by yourself, you could get hurt. I would’ve just waited until we got back to the hotel room.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re in Vienna, Mike. I would’ve been fine. Plus I could’ve gotten to look around to scout some places we could visit tomorrow.”

He smiled, “Well, doesn’t matter, cause they had some here.” His makeup artist patted his shoulder letting him know she was done. He thanked her and stood up, sitting beside you on the nice couch. He pressed a kiss to your head and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Thank you for being my little detective and finding me some orange juice. I really appreciate it, mama.”

You smiled, “Of course, can’t have you going out on stage without your emotional support drink.” You teased him lightly.

“Hey, better orange juice than alcohol.”

You shifted into his side, the two of you planning out some fun things to do for the next day. You and Michael had developed a sort of pre-show ritual. You would talk while he was getting ready, then 30 minutes before the show started the two of you would head to the wings. Michael would warm up while you found a nice place to watch the show. Just before he was about to run on, he'd get his good luck kiss from you before heading onto the stage. It was simple, but effective.

When Michael stood up you silently prayed your foot had magically gotten better. He held his hand out and pulled you up. You stood with most of your weight on one side, secretly testing your right foot. It still hurt like hell. You knew something was wrong, you knew that you should have probably told someone. But you also knew that if you told Michael your foot was probably broken, he would refuse to go on stage until he knew you were back at the hotel resting. And with it being so close to show time, you didn't want to pull him out of his zone and away from his fans.

So you stayed slightly behind him as you both walked to the wings of the stage, doing everything you could to suppress the limp in your walk. The second you were in the wings, you found a chair and sat down, crossing your right leg over your left so your bad foot was in the air. Michael looked over with a furrowed brow. "Are you gonna sit all the way back here, pretty? You can hardly see the stage, and you never sit." He began stretching as he awaited your response.

"Oh I'm going to move closer to show time, I just figured we could stay back here for right now since there's more space for you to warm up."

He smiled and placed a kiss on your head, "You're so sweet, always thinkin of me."

You smiled as you watched him warm up his body, stretching his long limbs, and getting his heart rate up. While you talked, your eyes scanned the wings for another place you could settle into. You eyed a large black and silver rolling trunk near the curtains. It was close enough to the stage that you were sure you'd have a good view, plus you could lock the feet and either lean or sit on it.

You and Michael made your way over to the edge of the wings, Michael beaming at you as he jumped up and down in anticipation. He looked at you, "Wish me luck."

You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, "You don't need luck, baby."

He smiled and rushed onto the stage, the sound of screams filling the air around the stadium. You let out a breath, quickly sitting on the large trunk. Your foot was killing you, the pain kept shooting up your body in waves. You dared a glance down at it, carefully slipping off the shoes you were wearing. The sight made you inhale sharply. It was swollen and already bruising bad, dark purple and a tint of yellow forming around the outside of your foot. You swallowed hard, you knew that if you didn't do something it would get worse and you wouldn't be able to go exploring tomorrow.

You quickly put your shoe back on, covering the injury as you looked around for a stage manager. You quickly waved one over, alerting her that someone had tripped backstage and asked you to find the nearest first aid kit. She directed you to it, not thinking anything of the situation, and quickly went back to her job.

It was dark backstage, allowing you to find a private corner where you carefully wrapped your foot tightly in a gauze. It wasn't much, but it would compress your foot long enough for you to make it through the night.

On stage, Michael looked over to find you missing from your previous spot. Something was going on, he could feel something nagging him at the back of his mind. Every now and then he would look over to find you either swaying carefully or simply clapping out the beat of the song. It was nothing like you. Typically he would look over to find you jumping up and down or dancing messily, sometimes he would catch you mimicking his own moves. But now you just sat on top of that trunk, twisting and turning just your upper body. He knew you well enough to know you were hiding something, and he was going to figure it out.

From backstage, you could tell Michael was catching on. Every time he looked over you could feel him scanning another part of your body. He could read you like a book. You quickly tried to think of an excuse for your odd behavior, something that would throw him off your scent. The thought of having to miss out on exploring the city was devastating. You didn't know if you would ever have the chance to come back here, and you'd be damned if you let something like a sprained foot take a romantic day in Europe away from you.

When Michael came off stage you met him at the edge with his water and a towel, reaching up and wiping off the sweat on his forehead. He smiled and breathed heavily as he gulped down the water. He looked down at you, taking your chin in his hand. "You okay, mama?"

"Of course I am! Michael, that was an amazing show, as always. I think that might've been a record long toe stand during Bad." You laughed.

He smiled at your playfulness, letting you try to trick him. He knew you better than that, he knew all your tactics. Wrapping an arm around you he started leading you to the dressing room. You walked with him, the wrap on your foot making it at least somewhat more bearable to walk on. But Michael knew everything about you, down to the way you walked. And right now, he could feel the way you tried concealing the limp. He could see the slight way your right foot gave out just a little too quickly.

As much as he wanted to ask you what was up right then and there, he also knew that there was a reason you were hiding it. And he figured whatever it was, he could wait to find out when the two of you were alone in the hotel room. It was likely that you'd be more open with him in private, vs. trying not to cause a scene around people.

Michael dropped his arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his side as the two of you walked. You could feel the way he secretly tried holding up your right side more. He knew, of course he did. You were in for a stern talking to when you got back to the hotel room.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The second the elevator door opened into the penthouse suite, Michael scooped you up, not letting you walk any further. You didn't even fight him, you simply let him carry you to the bed. His brows were furrowed in thought, lips tight in a thin line. He carefully placed you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you. He reached for your right shoe and you moved it. "Michael..."

He grabbed your leg gently, "Let me."

Your stomach sank as he took off your shoe and began unwrapping the gauze. His breath hitched at the sight of your foot. Swollen and badly bruised, a bone was clearly out of place. You looked at him nervously, trying to read his expression. "It's not as bad as it looks." A blatant lie.

He scoffed, standing up and pacing in front of you. "Not as bad as it looks? It looks like it's broken! Are you really going to sit here and tell me that it's not, that it doesn't hurt?"

You looked down, "No."

"Why didn't you say something? How long has it been like this?" His voice was sharp. You knew he was angry with you, but not in a bad way, in a concerned way.

"I didn't want you to worry." You said quietly.

"Yeah, well too late for that. How can I not worry when your foot looks like someone ran it over??" He continued his pacing, glancing every now and again at your foot. "You can't do that, Y/N! You do realize that it's probably gotten worse because you've been on it? What happened, and why did you think it was okay to not tell anyone?"

"When I was coming back with the orange juice I slammed into two guys and tripped really bad over my foot and hit the wall. I just didn't want you to freak out, I didn't want it to distract you from the show. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He let out a long sigh placing his head in his hands. "No offense baby, but that's just ridiculous. I'd rather you tell me so I can get you the help you need rather than you trying to deal with it on your own. You've gotta tell me if something happens to you, please."

You nodded, "I will. I just, I didn't want it to ruin our day tomorrow. I want to be able to explore the city with you, I didn't want my stupid foot to stop that from happening. I really love seeing new places with you, Mikey. I love making new memories with you, and I just didn't want to ruin it."

Michael's face softened. He sat beside you, taking your hands in his. "We'll still get to explore, even if I have to carry you into every store and restaurant we find. You don't ever need to worry about ruining memories like that, because even if we were stuck in the hotel room, it'd be a good memory. Because no matter where I am, if you're there, it's already perfect. So promise me, if anything like this happens again, you'll tell me."

"I promise." You held out your pinky. He hooked his with yours before carefully pulling your leg onto his lap. He examined your foot carefully, moving it around delicately. Even the slight movements brought fresh tears to your eyes.

He looked up at the sound of your siffles, frowning and placing your foot back down. "Oh mama, come here." He opened up his arms for you. You melted into them, letting all of the tears you had been holding back fall.

"It hurts so bad. I feel like my foot is being stabbed with needles." You cried into his chest. He rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. I'm gonna call a doctor and get you some help, okay?"

You nodded slightly, "Okay."

"Here, let's get it propped up and put some ice on it." He shifted you more so that you were fully on the bed. He took a bunch of pillows and placed your foot on them before disappearing into the kitchen to get some ice.

When he came back he cooed at the sight of you. You laid on the bed with a pitiful pout and watery eyes, looking absolutely miserable. He placed the bag of ice across your foot, comforting you as you whined about how cold it was. He sat beside you on the bed, wrapped you up in his arms. “I know it’s cold, pretty. But you’ve gotta keep it on to help with the swelling while we wait for a doctor.

He gently rubbed the side of your arm, kissing your head each time you shifted in discomfort from the freezing touch of the ice. “I’m sorry, Mike. I feel like I’ve made a whole mess out of this whole day.”

You relaxed into his soft touch as he scooted closer to you, “It’s okay, mama. We’re still gonna explore the city tomorrow, don’t you worry.”

The next morning you and Michael went to the nearest walk-in private clinic, getting your foot checked over. The x-ray showed a small fracture in your fifth metatarsal. Luckily it was small enough that you didn’t need a cast, but they did put you in a boot, much to your annoyance. It looked ugly and was throwing off your whole fit.

While you didn’t think the injury was a big deal, the word ‘fracture’ combined with your name sent Michael into caretaker mode. The minute they put that boot on your foot it was like Michaels body was on constant high alert.

The entire day he was glued to your side, helping you with any little task. He wrapped his arm around your waist while you walked, offered to give you piggy back rides up the stairs, kept glancing down at your foot every two minutes, it was sweet. Michael refused to let you lift a single finger the whole day, helping you into buildings, letting you lean on him constantly, always looking around for seating for you. He wouldn’t let you carry anything either. Each time you tried to grab your purse or a shopping bag, he quickly took it from you.

You weren’t going to say anything, because you knew it was just his way of showing you how much he cared. But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him funny when you found a gelato shop.

You reached out to take the treat, and of course Michale beat you to it. “Michael, that one’s mine. You’ve already got yours.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“So can I please have mine?”

He shook his head, “No, I can hold it for you.”

“Mikey, baby, I hurt my foot not my hands. I can hold ice cream.”

“Sure you can, but this isn’t ice cream.” He smiled a bit.

You gave him an unamused look. “You know what I mean. How am I supposed to eat it if we’re walking and you’re holding it?”

“Well I’ll just hold it in-front of you and you can eat it without your hands.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious answer.

“Absolutely not, I can hold my own gelato!” You crossed your arms.

“No you can’t, because what if we’re walking and you’re so focused on it that you trip again?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“Could happen.”

“Michael.”

He just shook his head before starting to walk. You ended up beside him, doing exactly as he wanted, carefully spooning the cold treat into your mouth while he held it out in front of you.

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You had found a small kitchen stocked full of all sorts of foods and drinks, and lucky for you, a very fresh organic looking glass bottle or orange juice that had Michael's name written all over it. Your eyes lit up as you grabbed the bottle, heart jumping for joy at the cold feeling of it against your hand. You quickly hurried out of the room, practically skipping down the hall with glee.

As you turned the corner, 2 members of the run crew collided right into you. Fearful of the orange juice dropping and smashing into pieces, you focused on cradling it carefully. The shove sent you rolling over your foot and slamming into the wall beside you. You felt a sharp pain shoot up from your leg, face twisting in pain. The two men quickly set down the large box they were carrying, going over to your side to make sure you were okay. You pushed yourself off the wall, holding the glass tightly. As you placed your weight back onto your right foot, another burst of pain hit you. After a lot of fussing, you assured the two men you were fine, despite the tears threatening to fall. You shooed them off, not wanting to hold up anything that might be important to the show.

When they finally left you glanced down at your throbbing foot, biting at your lip as you tried to convince yourself it was fine. You just need to catch your breath, that was all. You rested against the wall for a moment, regulating your breath before you pushed down the hall. The limp was immediate. You felt like putting weight on the foot was like a hundred needles stabbing at your nerves. You kept your mind on the comfy couch that you could plop onto when you got back to the greenroom, pushing away the mere thought that something was seriously wrong.

When you stepped back in you immediately smiled, handing Michael the glass bottle. “Tada!!”

His eyes sparkled at the sight of the drink, carefully taking it from your hands with a smile. “You actually found some!?”

You laughed and made a beeline for the couch, immediately taking all the weight off your foot as you sat down. Relief flooded you instantly, the stabbing pain dying down, now it was just throbbing.

Michael looked at you through the mirror, taking note of the slight pinch of your brows. “Where’d you find it?”

You leaned against the couch, “I found a small kitchen, luckily they had some. I was worried I’d have to sneak off to a market.” You laughed, expression easing back into a smile.

Michael laughed, “Yeah right, there’s no way I would’ve let you go out by yourself, you could get hurt. I would’ve just waited until we got back to the hotel room.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re in Vienna, Mike. I would’ve been fine. Plus I could’ve gotten to look around to scout some places we could visit tomorrow.”

He smiled, “Well, doesn’t matter, cause they had some here.” His makeup artist patted his shoulder letting him know she was done. He thanked her and stood up, sitting beside you on the nice couch. He pressed a kiss to your head and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Thank you for being my little detective and finding me some orange juice. I really appreciate it, mama.”

You smiled, “Of course, can’t have you going out on stage without your emotional support drink.” You teased him lightly.

“Hey, better orange juice than alcohol.”

You shifted into his side, the two of you planning out some fun things to do for the next day. You and Michael had developed a sort of pre-show ritual. You would talk while he was getting ready, then 30 minutes before the show started the two of you would head to the wings. Michael would warm up while you found a nice place to watch the show. Just before he was about to run on, he'd get his good luck kiss from you before heading onto the stage. It was simple, but effective.

When Michael stood up you silently prayed your foot had magically gotten better. He held his hand out and pulled you up. You stood with most of your weight on one side, secretly testing your right foot. It still hurt like hell. You knew something was wrong, you knew that you should have probably told someone. But you also knew that if you told Michael your foot was probably broken, he would refuse to go on stage until he knew you were back at the hotel resting. And with it being so close to show time, you didn't want to pull him out of his zone and away from his fans.

So you stayed slightly behind him as you both walked to the wings of the stage, doing everything you could to suppress the limp in your walk. The second you were in the wings, you found a chair and sat down, crossing your right leg over your left so your bad foot was in the air. Michael looked over with a furrowed brow. "Are you gonna sit all the way back here, pretty? You can hardly see the stage, and you never sit." He began stretching as he awaited your response.

"Oh I'm going to move closer to show time, I just figured we could stay back here for right now since there's more space for you to warm up."

He smiled and placed a kiss on your head, "You're so sweet, always thinkin of me."

You smiled as you watched him warm up his body, stretching his long limbs, and getting his heart rate up. While you talked, your eyes scanned the wings for another place you could settle into. You eyed a large black and silver rolling trunk near the curtains. It was close enough to the stage that you were sure you'd have a good view, plus you could lock the feet and either lean or sit on it.

You and Michael made your way over to the edge of the wings, Michael beaming at you as he jumped up and down in anticipation. He looked at you, "Wish me luck."

You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, "You don't need luck, baby."

He smiled and rushed onto the stage, the sound of screams filling the air around the stadium. You let out a breath, quickly sitting on the large trunk. Your foot was killing you, the pain kept shooting up your body in waves. You dared a glance down at it, carefully slipping off the shoes you were wearing. The sight made you inhale sharply. It was swollen and already bruising bad, dark purple and a tint of yellow forming around the outside of your foot. You swallowed hard, you knew that if you didn't do something it would get worse and you wouldn't be able to go exploring tomorrow.

You quickly put your shoe back on, covering the injury as you looked around for a stage manager. You quickly waved one over, alerting her that someone had tripped backstage and asked you to find the nearest first aid kit. She directed you to it, not thinking anything of the situation, and quickly went back to her job.

It was dark backstage, allowing you to find a private corner where you carefully wrapped your foot tightly in a gauze. It wasn't much, but it would compress your foot long enough for you to make it through the night.

On stage, Michael looked over to find you missing from your previous spot. Something was going on, he could feel something nagging him at the back of his mind. Every now and then he would look over to find you either swaying carefully or simply clapping out the beat of the song. It was nothing like you. Typically he would look over to find you jumping up and down or dancing messily, sometimes he would catch you mimicking his own moves. But now you just sat on top of that trunk, twisting and turning just your upper body. He knew you well enough to know you were hiding something, and he was going to figure it out.

From backstage, you could tell Michael was catching on. Every time he looked over you could feel him scanning another part of your body. He could read you like a book. You quickly tried to think of an excuse for your odd behavior, something that would throw him off your scent. The thought of having to miss out on exploring the city was devastating. You didn't know if you would ever have the chance to come back here, and you'd be damned if you let something like a sprained foot take a romantic day in Europe away from you.

When Michael came off stage you met him at the edge with his water and a towel, reaching up and wiping off the sweat on his forehead. He smiled and breathed heavily as he gulped down the water. He looked down at you, taking your chin in his hand. "You okay, mama?"

"Of course I am! Michael, that was an amazing show, as always. I think that might've been a record long toe stand during Bad." You laughed.

He smiled at your playfulness, letting you try to trick him. He knew you better than that, he knew all your tactics. Wrapping an arm around you he started leading you to the dressing room. You walked with him, the wrap on your foot making it at least somewhat more bearable to walk on. But Michael knew everything about you, down to the way you walked. And right now, he could feel the way you tried concealing the limp. He could see the slight way your right foot gave out just a little too quickly.

As much as he wanted to ask you what was up right then and there, he also knew that there was a reason you were hiding it. And he figured whatever it was, he could wait to find out when the two of you were alone in the hotel room. It was likely that you'd be more open with him in private, vs. trying not to cause a scene around people.

Michael dropped his arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his side as the two of you walked. You could feel the way he secretly tried holding up your right side more. He knew, of course he did. You were in for a stern talking to when you got back to the hotel room.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The second the elevator door opened into the penthouse suite, Michael scooped you up, not letting you walk any further. You didn't even fight him, you simply let him carry you to the bed. His brows were furrowed in thought, lips tight in a thin line. He carefully placed you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you. He reached for your right shoe and you moved it. "Michael..."

He grabbed your leg gently, "Let me."

Your stomach sank as he took off your shoe and began unwrapping the gauze. His breath hitched at the sight of your foot. Swollen and badly bruised, a bone was clearly out of place. You looked at him nervously, trying to read his expression. "It's not as bad as it looks." A blatant lie.

He scoffed, standing up and pacing in front of you. "Not as bad as it looks? It looks like it's broken! Are you really going to sit here and tell me that it's not, that it doesn't hurt?"

You looked down, "No."

"Why didn't you say something? How long has it been like this?" His voice was sharp. You knew he was angry with you, but not in a bad way, in a concerned way.

"I didn't want you to worry." You said quietly.

"Yeah, well too late for that. How can I not worry when your foot looks like someone ran it over??" He continued his pacing, glancing every now and again at your foot. "You can't do that, Y/N! You do realize that it's probably gotten worse because you've been on it? What happened, and why did you think it was okay to not tell anyone?"

"When I was coming back with the orange juice I slammed into two guys and tripped really bad over my foot and hit the wall. I just didn't want you to freak out, I didn't want it to distract you from the show. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He let out a long sigh placing his head in his hands. "No offense baby, but that's just ridiculous. I'd rather you tell me so I can get you the help you need rather than you trying to deal with it on your own. You've gotta tell me if something happens to you, please."

You nodded, "I will. I just, I didn't want it to ruin our day tomorrow. I want to be able to explore the city with you, I didn't want my stupid foot to stop that from happening. I really love seeing new places with you, Mikey. I love making new memories with you, and I just didn't want to ruin it."

Michael's face softened. He sat beside you, taking your hands in his. "We'll still get to explore, even if I have to carry you into every store and restaurant we find. You don't ever need to worry about ruining memories like that, because even if we were stuck in the hotel room, it'd be a good memory. Because no matter where I am, if you're there, it's already perfect. So promise me, if anything like this happens again, you'll tell me."

"I promise." You held out your pinky. He hooked his with yours before carefully pulling your leg onto his lap. He examined your foot carefully, moving it around delicately. Even the slight movements brought fresh tears to your eyes.

He looked up at the sound of your siffles, frowning and placing your foot back down. "Oh mama, come here." He opened up his arms for you. You melted into them, letting all of the tears you had been holding back fall.

"It hurts so bad. I feel like my foot is being stabbed with needles." You cried into his chest. He rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. I'm gonna call a doctor and get you some help, okay?"

You nodded slightly, "Okay."

"Here, let's get it propped up and put some ice on it." He shifted you more so that you were fully on the bed. He took a bunch of pillows and placed your foot on them before disappearing into the kitchen to get some ice.

When he came back he cooed at the sight of you. You laid on the bed with a pitiful pout and watery eyes, looking absolutely miserable. He placed the bag of ice across your foot, comforting you as you whined about how cold it was. He sat beside you on the bed, wrapped you up in his arms. “I know it’s cold, pretty. But you’ve gotta keep it on to help with the swelling while we wait for a doctor.

He gently rubbed the side of your arm, kissing your head each time you shifted in discomfort from the freezing touch of the ice. “I’m sorry, Mike. I feel like I’ve made a whole mess out of this whole day.”

You relaxed into his soft touch as he scooted closer to you, “It’s okay, mama. We’re still gonna explore the city tomorrow, don’t you worry.”

The next morning you and Michael went to the nearest walk-in private clinic, getting your foot checked over. The x-ray showed a small fracture in your fifth metatarsal. Luckily it was small enough that you didn’t need a cast, but they did put you in a boot, much to your annoyance. It looked ugly and was throwing off your whole fit.

While you didn’t think the injury was a big deal, the word ‘fracture’ combined with your name sent Michael into caretaker mode. The minute they put that boot on your foot it was like Michaels body was on constant high alert.

The entire day he was glued to your side, helping you with any little task. He wrapped his arm around your waist while you walked, offered to give you piggy back rides up the stairs, kept glancing down at your foot every two minutes, it was sweet. Michael refused to let you lift a single finger the whole day, helping you into buildings, letting you lean on him constantly, always looking around for seating for you. He wouldn’t let you carry anything either. Each time you tried to grab your purse or a shopping bag, he quickly took it from you.

You weren’t going to say anything, because you knew it was just his way of showing you how much he cared. But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him funny when you found a gelato shop.

You reached out to take the treat, and of course Michale beat you to it. “Michael, that one’s mine. You’ve already got yours.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“So can I please have mine?”

He shook his head, “No, I can hold it for you.”

“Mikey, baby, I hurt my foot not my hands. I can hold ice cream.”

“Sure you can, but this isn’t ice cream.” He smiled a bit.

You gave him an unamused look. “You know what I mean. How am I supposed to eat it if we’re walking and you’re holding it?”

“Well I’ll just hold it in-front of you and you can eat it without your hands.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious answer.

“Absolutely not, I can hold my own gelato!” You crossed your arms.

“No you can’t, because what if we’re walking and you’re so focused on it that you trip again?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“Could happen.”

“Michael.”

He just shook his head before starting to walk. You ended up beside him, doing exactly as he wanted, carefully spooning the cold treat into your mouth while he held it out in front of you.

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You had found a small kitchen stocked full of all sorts of foods and drinks, and lucky for you, a very fresh organic looking glass bottle or orange juice that had Michael's name written all over it. Your eyes lit up as you grabbed the bottle, heart jumping for joy at the cold feeling of it against your hand. You quickly hurried out of the room, practically skipping down the hall with glee.

As you turned the corner, 2 members of the run crew collided right into you. Fearful of the orange juice dropping and smashing into pieces, you focused on cradling it carefully. The shove sent you rolling over your foot and slamming into the wall beside you. You felt a sharp pain shoot up from your leg, face twisting in pain. The two men quickly set down the large box they were carrying, going over to your side to make sure you were okay. You pushed yourself off the wall, holding the glass tightly. As you placed your weight back onto your right foot, another burst of pain hit you. After a lot of fussing, you assured the two men you were fine, despite the tears threatening to fall. You shooed them off, not wanting to hold up anything that might be important to the show.

When they finally left you glanced down at your throbbing foot, biting at your lip as you tried to convince yourself it was fine. You just need to catch your breath, that was all. You rested against the wall for a moment, regulating your breath before you pushed down the hall. The limp was immediate. You felt like putting weight on the foot was like a hundred needles stabbing at your nerves. You kept your mind on the comfy couch that you could plop onto when you got back to the greenroom, pushing away the mere thought that something was seriously wrong.

When you stepped back in you immediately smiled, handing Michael the glass bottle. “Tada!!”

His eyes sparkled at the sight of the drink, carefully taking it from your hands with a smile. “You actually found some!?”

You laughed and made a beeline for the couch, immediately taking all the weight off your foot as you sat down. Relief flooded you instantly, the stabbing pain dying down, now it was just throbbing.

Michael looked at you through the mirror, taking note of the slight pinch of your brows. “Where’d you find it?”

You leaned against the couch, “I found a small kitchen, luckily they had some. I was worried I’d have to sneak off to a market.” You laughed, expression easing back into a smile.

Michael laughed, “Yeah right, there’s no way I would’ve let you go out by yourself, you could get hurt. I would’ve just waited until we got back to the hotel room.”

You rolled your eyes, “We’re in Vienna, Mike. I would’ve been fine. Plus I could’ve gotten to look around to scout some places we could visit tomorrow.”

He smiled, “Well, doesn’t matter, cause they had some here.” His makeup artist patted his shoulder letting him know she was done. He thanked her and stood up, sitting beside you on the nice couch. He pressed a kiss to your head and wrapped an arm around your shoulder. “Thank you for being my little detective and finding me some orange juice. I really appreciate it, mama.”

You smiled, “Of course, can’t have you going out on stage without your emotional support drink.” You teased him lightly.

“Hey, better orange juice than alcohol.”

You shifted into his side, the two of you planning out some fun things to do for the next day. You and Michael had developed a sort of pre-show ritual. You would talk while he was getting ready, then 30 minutes before the show started the two of you would head to the wings. Michael would warm up while you found a nice place to watch the show. Just before he was about to run on, he'd get his good luck kiss from you before heading onto the stage. It was simple, but effective.

When Michael stood up you silently prayed your foot had magically gotten better. He held his hand out and pulled you up. You stood with most of your weight on one side, secretly testing your right foot. It still hurt like hell. You knew something was wrong, you knew that you should have probably told someone. But you also knew that if you told Michael your foot was probably broken, he would refuse to go on stage until he knew you were back at the hotel resting. And with it being so close to show time, you didn't want to pull him out of his zone and away from his fans.

So you stayed slightly behind him as you both walked to the wings of the stage, doing everything you could to suppress the limp in your walk. The second you were in the wings, you found a chair and sat down, crossing your right leg over your left so your bad foot was in the air. Michael looked over with a furrowed brow. "Are you gonna sit all the way back here, pretty? You can hardly see the stage, and you never sit." He began stretching as he awaited your response.

"Oh I'm going to move closer to show time, I just figured we could stay back here for right now since there's more space for you to warm up."

He smiled and placed a kiss on your head, "You're so sweet, always thinkin of me."

You smiled as you watched him warm up his body, stretching his long limbs, and getting his heart rate up. While you talked, your eyes scanned the wings for another place you could settle into. You eyed a large black and silver rolling trunk near the curtains. It was close enough to the stage that you were sure you'd have a good view, plus you could lock the feet and either lean or sit on it.

You and Michael made your way over to the edge of the wings, Michael beaming at you as he jumped up and down in anticipation. He looked at you, "Wish me luck."

You placed a sweet kiss on his lips, "You don't need luck, baby."

He smiled and rushed onto the stage, the sound of screams filling the air around the stadium. You let out a breath, quickly sitting on the large trunk. Your foot was killing you, the pain kept shooting up your body in waves. You dared a glance down at it, carefully slipping off the shoes you were wearing. The sight made you inhale sharply. It was swollen and already bruising bad, dark purple and a tint of yellow forming around the outside of your foot. You swallowed hard, you knew that if you didn't do something it would get worse and you wouldn't be able to go exploring tomorrow.

You quickly put your shoe back on, covering the injury as you looked around for a stage manager. You quickly waved one over, alerting her that someone had tripped backstage and asked you to find the nearest first aid kit. She directed you to it, not thinking anything of the situation, and quickly went back to her job.

It was dark backstage, allowing you to find a private corner where you carefully wrapped your foot tightly in a gauze. It wasn't much, but it would compress your foot long enough for you to make it through the night.

On stage, Michael looked over to find you missing from your previous spot. Something was going on, he could feel something nagging him at the back of his mind. Every now and then he would look over to find you either swaying carefully or simply clapping out the beat of the song. It was nothing like you. Typically he would look over to find you jumping up and down or dancing messily, sometimes he would catch you mimicking his own moves. But now you just sat on top of that trunk, twisting and turning just your upper body. He knew you well enough to know you were hiding something, and he was going to figure it out.

From backstage, you could tell Michael was catching on. Every time he looked over you could feel him scanning another part of your body. He could read you like a book. You quickly tried to think of an excuse for your odd behavior, something that would throw him off your scent. The thought of having to miss out on exploring the city was devastating. You didn't know if you would ever have the chance to come back here, and you'd be damned if you let something like a sprained foot take a romantic day in Europe away from you.

When Michael came off stage you met him at the edge with his water and a towel, reaching up and wiping off the sweat on his forehead. He smiled and breathed heavily as he gulped down the water. He looked down at you, taking your chin in his hand. "You okay, mama?"

"Of course I am! Michael, that was an amazing show, as always. I think that might've been a record long toe stand during Bad." You laughed.

He smiled at your playfulness, letting you try to trick him. He knew you better than that, he knew all your tactics. Wrapping an arm around you he started leading you to the dressing room. You walked with him, the wrap on your foot making it at least somewhat more bearable to walk on. But Michael knew everything about you, down to the way you walked. And right now, he could feel the way you tried concealing the limp. He could see the slight way your right foot gave out just a little too quickly.

As much as he wanted to ask you what was up right then and there, he also knew that there was a reason you were hiding it. And he figured whatever it was, he could wait to find out when the two of you were alone in the hotel room. It was likely that you'd be more open with him in private, vs. trying not to cause a scene around people.

Michael dropped his arm around your waist, hugging you tightly to his side as the two of you walked. You could feel the way he secretly tried holding up your right side more. He knew, of course he did. You were in for a stern talking to when you got back to the hotel room.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

The second the elevator door opened into the penthouse suite, Michael scooped you up, not letting you walk any further. You didn't even fight him, you simply let him carry you to the bed. His brows were furrowed in thought, lips tight in a thin line. He carefully placed you down on the bed and kneeled in front of you. He reached for your right shoe and you moved it. "Michael..."

He grabbed your leg gently, "Let me."

Your stomach sank as he took off your shoe and began unwrapping the gauze. His breath hitched at the sight of your foot. Swollen and badly bruised, a bone was clearly out of place. You looked at him nervously, trying to read his expression. "It's not as bad as it looks." A blatant lie.

He scoffed, standing up and pacing in front of you. "Not as bad as it looks? It looks like it's broken! Are you really going to sit here and tell me that it's not, that it doesn't hurt?"

You looked down, "No."

"Why didn't you say something? How long has it been like this?" His voice was sharp. You knew he was angry with you, but not in a bad way, in a concerned way.

"I didn't want you to worry." You said quietly.

"Yeah, well too late for that. How can I not worry when your foot looks like someone ran it over??" He continued his pacing, glancing every now and again at your foot. "You can't do that, Y/N! You do realize that it's probably gotten worse because you've been on it? What happened, and why did you think it was okay to not tell anyone?"

"When I was coming back with the orange juice I slammed into two guys and tripped really bad over my foot and hit the wall. I just didn't want you to freak out, I didn't want it to distract you from the show. I thought I could handle it on my own."

He let out a long sigh placing his head in his hands. "No offense baby, but that's just ridiculous. I'd rather you tell me so I can get you the help you need rather than you trying to deal with it on your own. You've gotta tell me if something happens to you, please."

You nodded, "I will. I just, I didn't want it to ruin our day tomorrow. I want to be able to explore the city with you, I didn't want my stupid foot to stop that from happening. I really love seeing new places with you, Mikey. I love making new memories with you, and I just didn't want to ruin it."

Michael's face softened. He sat beside you, taking your hands in his. "We'll still get to explore, even if I have to carry you into every store and restaurant we find. You don't ever need to worry about ruining memories like that, because even if we were stuck in the hotel room, it'd be a good memory. Because no matter where I am, if you're there, it's already perfect. So promise me, if anything like this happens again, you'll tell me."

"I promise." You held out your pinky. He hooked his with yours before carefully pulling your leg onto his lap. He examined your foot carefully, moving it around delicately. Even the slight movements brought fresh tears to your eyes.

He looked up at the sound of your siffles, frowning and placing your foot back down. "Oh mama, come here." He opened up his arms for you. You melted into them, letting all of the tears you had been holding back fall.

"It hurts so bad. I feel like my foot is being stabbed with needles." You cried into his chest. He rubbed your back soothingly.

"You're gonna be okay, baby. I'm gonna call a doctor and get you some help, okay?"

You nodded slightly, "Okay."

"Here, let's get it propped up and put some ice on it." He shifted you more so that you were fully on the bed. He took a bunch of pillows and placed your foot on them before disappearing into the kitchen to get some ice.

When he came back he cooed at the sight of you. You laid on the bed with a pitiful pout and watery eyes, looking absolutely miserable. He placed the bag of ice across your foot, comforting you as you whined about how cold it was. He sat beside you on the bed, wrapped you up in his arms. “I know it’s cold, pretty. But you’ve gotta keep it on to help with the swelling while we wait for a doctor.

He gently rubbed the side of your arm, kissing your head each time you shifted in discomfort from the freezing touch of the ice. “I’m sorry, Mike. I feel like I’ve made a whole mess out of this whole day.”

You relaxed into his soft touch as he scooted closer to you, “It’s okay, mama. We’re still gonna explore the city tomorrow, don’t you worry.”

The next morning you and Michael went to the nearest walk-in private clinic, getting your foot checked over. The x-ray showed a small fracture in your fifth metatarsal. Luckily it was small enough that you didn’t need a cast, but they did put you in a boot, much to your annoyance. It looked ugly and was throwing off your whole fit.

While you didn’t think the injury was a big deal, the word ‘fracture’ combined with your name sent Michael into caretaker mode. The minute they put that boot on your foot it was like Michaels body was on constant high alert.

The entire day he was glued to your side, helping you with any little task. He wrapped his arm around your waist while you walked, offered to give you piggy back rides up the stairs, kept glancing down at your foot every two minutes, it was sweet. Michael refused to let you lift a single finger the whole day, helping you into buildings, letting you lean on him constantly, always looking around for seating for you. He wouldn’t let you carry anything either. Each time you tried to grab your purse or a shopping bag, he quickly took it from you.

You weren’t going to say anything, because you knew it was just his way of showing you how much he cared. But you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him funny when you found a gelato shop.

You reached out to take the treat, and of course Michale beat you to it. “Michael, that one’s mine. You’ve already got yours.”

He nodded, “I know.”

“So can I please have mine?”

He shook his head, “No, I can hold it for you.”

“Mikey, baby, I hurt my foot not my hands. I can hold ice cream.”

“Sure you can, but this isn’t ice cream.” He smiled a bit.

You gave him an unamused look. “You know what I mean. How am I supposed to eat it if we’re walking and you’re holding it?”

“Well I’ll just hold it in-front of you and you can eat it without your hands.” He shrugged like it was the most obvious answer.

“Absolutely not, I can hold my own gelato!” You crossed your arms.

“No you can’t, because what if we’re walking and you’re so focused on it that you trip again?”

“That’s never gonna happen.”

“Could happen.”

“Michael.”

He just shook his head before starting to walk. You ended up beside him, doing exactly as he wanted, carefully spooning the cold treat into your mouth while he held it out in front of you.

Taglist: @sebbysbaby @chloethefantastic @umafanficdoidaqualquer @delictezz @swag313gurl @melosdelusions @urthem00n @1lvie @artflooo @wildlaufey3 @jaiana-b-blog @lordswagprincess @mikeyspyt @khxna @plan3tch1ld @macncheesy16 @heyitsm4di @raefoxiegirl @smoothcriminalgf @itsopinionsbased @hello-its-lana16@crazylady20 @mizermouse @irissunshines @starryeyedmoonlight @animegamerfox @forgottennoot @tellybearryyyy @sugacor3 @sugarrushbell @laniundercoverr @zhadyax @kneelarmhstrung @badussyussysstuff @devynrulesboisdrool @kryka83 @appleheadannie @amoravelee @a-motherfcking-fish @blythecat1 @migualllll @7viiseven @zzeraphilm @watamotee33 @1andonlytashae @hoe-4-ficitionalmen @roseidol @miratate @nunusmoll @lov3lylxvender @lauren7050

Riddle Rosehearts

I will always stand by the belief that Riddle loves sex for the intimacy of it, and because of that, I like to think he prefers positions where he can see your expressions or hold your hand

Other than Missionary, he'd definitely love Slow Dance

Something about thrusting into you while standing up and you wrapping your arms around his neck makes him so flustered and bothered

Riddle worries that he might have done something wrong. Why were you so quiet? It's not often you stay silent at moments like this. “Dear?” He whispers, his thumb gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Are you perhaps dissatisfied with this position?” Dissatisfied? With how wet you were? “Oh my, not in the slightest…” Your body relaxed into his hold, a slow grind to his cock as your patience began to thin. He had to hold back a moan at the sudden rush of pleasure, eyes shutting closed as he tried to compose himself. “I-it's just… you don't often smile like that when we engage in such activities.” His words made your movements pause for a moment, contemplating whether or not you should tell him. You suppose it's not that sappy of a reason for you to hide. “Let's just say I like how I'm reminded of how gentle you are in times like this. It feels like we'll waltz at any moment!” A bright red adorned his cheeks at your confession. How could you possibly associate a dance with intercourse?! Well, taking a look at it, he supposes you have a point… “Dear, you shouldn't have implanted that thought into my mind. Now, the only thing I'll be thinking when we dance is how good you feel around me.”

Honorable mentions: Cowgirl, Spooning, and Drill

Trey Clover

I'm one of those Trey girlies that believe he's an absolute FREAK

Yeah, he's sweet and loving, but that mf will drill his cock into you

This man would absolutely love a good ol’ mating press

Legs over your head as he fucks his cock deeper into you GOD

Who knew you were flexible? You have not once thought about it until Trey had you in a mating press. His cock hit so deep into you that you could practically feel him in your stomach. You wouldn't even be surprised if he was hitting your cervix at this point. “Doing so great for me… Fuck, wanna fill this pussy so bad.” His words slurred as he continued to pound into you. Trey had a habit of saying the nastiest things once he gets pussydrunk. He just gets so addicted whenever your legs are above your head and he gets a full view of how your cunt sucks his dick in.

Honorable mentions: Pearly gates, Deckchair, and Bouncing spoon

Cater Diamond

Anything to see your tits bounce

A bit biased, but I really think Cater is a boobs guy ok

He enjoys the view AND he can suck on them while you fuck yourself stupid on his cock!

He would also definitely love to fuck you in front of a mirror

“Fuck, yes! Faste—!” Cater's loud moaning filled the room as you continued to bounce on his cock. His eyes were glued to the way your tits moved as your aggressively rode him. Your body was beginning to become sluggish after hours of being in the same position. Much to his disappointment, you begin to slowly halt your movements. His hands reaching to grip your hips before holding you up. His hips pulled out until only his tip was in, and he pushed it all back with one harsh thrust. “Cater! Wa—!” He has to see those titties bounce one way or another.

Honorable mentions: Pinball wizard, Sofa surprise, and Straddle

Ace Trappola

He's a basic BITCH

Loves Doggy because he can pull on your hair

I would've made him a nasty one, but he's a bit vanilla in my heart

His fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling on it every time he felt closer to his release. Fuck, he could do this all day. Seeing you on all fours, struggling to keep yourself up as he continued to pound into you. “Shi—Ace! Slow do-down…” What was that? He can't hear you over the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelch of your pussy taking his cock.

Honorable mentions: Reverse cowgirl, Back seat driver, and Leapfrog

Deuce Spade

Yeah, he's nasty with it

While I agree with anon with her take, I would also like to introduce to everyone the Full Nelson

HEAR ME OUUUUTTTTT

Imagine he's jealous and shit, so he pulls this position to drill into your head that only he can fuck you that good

Sometimes you wonder if you should make him jealous on purpose. It would make you a bad girlfriend, but with the way his cock was hitting deep inside you? Yeah… Legs over your head held by your hands as he rams his dick deeper. You question where he even knew about such a position. Something so exposing and humiliating yet hits all the right places. “Ace can't f-fuck you like this. No one can…” God, if he kept fucking you like this, you wouldn't mind letting him take his jealousy out on you.

Honorable mentions: Victory, Lotus, and Fast fuck

Leona Kingscholar

Contrary to popular belief, he actually likes a variation of missionary

I may be a cowgirl truther, but being manhandled…….

As much as he loves having you on top, he also loves having full control over you

His hands pin yours above your head, making sure you wouldn't be able to move as his thrusts become harder. Slow yet deep thrusts had you squirming and moaning under him. You didn't think teasing him would lead you to such a position. “Where's that cocky attitude now, huh? Can't do anything when I'm in control…” The mix of his sultry words along with the way he rams into you sent jolts of pleasure all over your body. How long can you even last once Leona finds his motivation?

Honorable mentions: Bow and arrow, Mastery, and Piston

Ruggie Bucchi

Another titty-bouncing enjoyer

Tbh he likes anything that's good for a quickie

Mostly prefers cowgirl just bc it's simple

'It'll be quick,' he said. 'Just one round,' he said. And yet, you have been bouncing on his cock for what felt like hours. Your thighs were beginning to burn from how long you've been in this position. A pool of his cum was already forming from where you two connected! “Ruggie! Can-can't anymore… ‘m tired, please…" “No, you're not. With the way you’re clenching around me, I doubt it.” He preferred quickies, he said….

Honorable mentions: Leg glider, Doggy, and Coital Alignment Technique (CAT)

Jack Howl

Another mating press lover

I told myself I wouldn't repeat some of the positions, but it just works

Holding your legs over your head while he fucks his cum deeper into you YEAH

Breeding season has finally rolled in, which means you're stuck in Jack's room for however long he needs! How many times have you come already? You could barely feel your body anymore. His rough hands grabbed your ankles, pushing them until they reached your head. You could barely react before he started to drill his cock into you. "You’ll give me pups, right? Of course you will…”

Honorable mentions: Triceratops, Stand & Carry, and Missionary

Azul Ashengrotto

Spooning

He likes the intimacy of it, and he can hold you really close

Plus, you won't be able to see how fucked out he is

“Doing so good for me… fuck! So ti-tight…” You could feel his breath on your ears as he pulled you closer to his chest, burying his face into your shoulder while he ground up against you. Azul took his time ravaging you—he always did. His arms wrapped around your waist, making you unable to escape his grasp. Even in his human form, he had the strength of eight arms.

Honorable mentions: 69, Man Missionary, and Corkscrew

Jade Leech

He's a passionate man

He'll also fuck you on the nearest surface

Has a thing for bending you over tables, which is why I THINK he's a Burning Man position guy

His hand held your wrists as he pounded into you. Jade just couldn't wait until his shift was over, bending you over the counter in the kitchen. It's honestly surprising that no one has even accidentally barged in! “Jad—! Slow do-down, can't k-keep quiet!” Even with your pleas, his hips only thrust harsher into you. A sick part of him did hope people from the outside could hear how only his name remained in your mind while he fucked you to oblivion.

Honorable mentions: Corner Doggy, Legs on Shoulders, and Leg Glider

Floyd Leech

Missionary

YEAH HE IS THE MORE VANILLA TWIN

He likes to see the fucked-out expression on your face every time his cock hits that spot

Easier access to your clit too

“Yeah, ya like that, shrimpy~?” What was he even talking about? You could barely process his words with his finger kept on stimulating your clit. A high-pitched squeal left your lips when he made you come once more. If that wasn't enough, Floyd started to jackhammer his cock into you. It was barely noticeable, but your body has started moving towards the edge of the bed. Your head was practically hanging by the time Floyd had realised the situation. “Ha! Hold onto me if ya don' wanna fall~”

Honorable Mentions: Hang loose, Superwoman, and Effiel tower (iykyk)

Riddle Rosehearts

I will always stand by the belief that Riddle loves sex for the intimacy of it, and because of that, I like to think he prefers positions where he can see your expressions or hold your hand

Other than Missionary, he'd definitely love Slow Dance

Something about thrusting into you while standing up and you wrapping your arms around his neck makes him so flustered and bothered

Riddle worries that he might have done something wrong. Why were you so quiet? It's not often you stay silent at moments like this. “Dear?” He whispers, his thumb gently caressing the skin of your hip. “Are you perhaps dissatisfied with this position?” Dissatisfied? With how wet you were? “Oh my, not in the slightest…” Your body relaxed into his hold, a slow grind to his cock as your patience began to thin. He had to hold back a moan at the sudden rush of pleasure, eyes shutting closed as he tried to compose himself. “I-it's just… you don't often smile like that when we engage in such activities.” His words made your movements pause for a moment, contemplating whether or not you should tell him. You suppose it's not that sappy of a reason for you to hide. “Let's just say I like how I'm reminded of how gentle you are in times like this. It feels like we'll waltz at any moment!” A bright red adorned his cheeks at your confession. How could you possibly associate a dance with intercourse?! Well, taking a look at it, he supposes you have a point… “Dear, you shouldn't have implanted that thought into my mind. Now, the only thing I'll be thinking when we dance is how good you feel around me.”

Honorable mentions: Cowgirl, Spooning, and Drill

Trey Clover

I'm one of those Trey girlies that believe he's an absolute FREAK

Yeah, he's sweet and loving, but that mf will drill his cock into you

This man would absolutely love a good ol’ mating press

Legs over your head as he fucks his cock deeper into you GOD

Who knew you were flexible? You have not once thought about it until Trey had you in a mating press. His cock hit so deep into you that you could practically feel him in your stomach. You wouldn't even be surprised if he was hitting your cervix at this point. “Doing so great for me… Fuck, wanna fill this pussy so bad.” His words slurred as he continued to pound into you. Trey had a habit of saying the nastiest things once he gets pussydrunk. He just gets so addicted whenever your legs are above your head and he gets a full view of how your cunt sucks his dick in.

Honorable mentions: Pearly gates, Deckchair, and Bouncing spoon

Cater Diamond

Anything to see your tits bounce

A bit biased, but I really think Cater is a boobs guy ok

He enjoys the view AND he can suck on them while you fuck yourself stupid on his cock!

He would also definitely love to fuck you in front of a mirror

“Fuck, yes! Faste—!” Cater's loud moaning filled the room as you continued to bounce on his cock. His eyes were glued to the way your tits moved as your aggressively rode him. Your body was beginning to become sluggish after hours of being in the same position. Much to his disappointment, you begin to slowly halt your movements. His hands reaching to grip your hips before holding you up. His hips pulled out until only his tip was in, and he pushed it all back with one harsh thrust. “Cater! Wa—!” He has to see those titties bounce one way or another.

Honorable mentions: Pinball wizard, Sofa surprise, and Straddle

Ace Trappola

He's a basic BITCH

Loves Doggy because he can pull on your hair

I would've made him a nasty one, but he's a bit vanilla in my heart

His fingers tangled themselves into your hair, pulling on it every time he felt closer to his release. Fuck, he could do this all day. Seeing you on all fours, struggling to keep yourself up as he continued to pound into you. “Shi—Ace! Slow do-down…” What was that? He can't hear you over the sound of skin slapping and the wet squelch of your pussy taking his cock.

Honorable mentions: Reverse cowgirl, Back seat driver, and Leapfrog

Deuce Spade

Yeah, he's nasty with it

While I agree with anon with her take, I would also like to introduce to everyone the Full Nelson

HEAR ME OUUUUTTTTT

Imagine he's jealous and shit, so he pulls this position to drill into your head that only he can fuck you that good

Sometimes you wonder if you should make him jealous on purpose. It would make you a bad girlfriend, but with the way his cock was hitting deep inside you? Yeah… Legs over your head held by your hands as he rams his dick deeper. You question where he even knew about such a position. Something so exposing and humiliating yet hits all the right places. “Ace can't f-fuck you like this. No one can…” God, if he kept fucking you like this, you wouldn't mind letting him take his jealousy out on you.

Honorable mentions: Victory, Lotus, and Fast fuck

Leona Kingscholar

Contrary to popular belief, he actually likes a variation of missionary

I may be a cowgirl truther, but being manhandled…….

As much as he loves having you on top, he also loves having full control over you

His hands pin yours above your head, making sure you wouldn't be able to move as his thrusts become harder. Slow yet deep thrusts had you squirming and moaning under him. You didn't think teasing him would lead you to such a position. “Where's that cocky attitude now, huh? Can't do anything when I'm in control…” The mix of his sultry words along with the way he rams into you sent jolts of pleasure all over your body. How long can you even last once Leona finds his motivation?

Honorable mentions: Bow and arrow, Mastery, and Piston

Ruggie Bucchi

Another titty-bouncing enjoyer

Tbh he likes anything that's good for a quickie

Mostly prefers cowgirl just bc it's simple

'It'll be quick,' he said. 'Just one round,' he said. And yet, you have been bouncing on his cock for what felt like hours. Your thighs were beginning to burn from how long you've been in this position. A pool of his cum was already forming from where you two connected! “Ruggie! Can-can't anymore… ‘m tired, please…" “No, you're not. With the way you’re clenching around me, I doubt it.” He preferred quickies, he said….

Honorable mentions: Leg glider, Doggy, and Coital Alignment Technique (CAT)

Jack Howl

Another mating press lover

I told myself I wouldn't repeat some of the positions, but it just works

Holding your legs over your head while he fucks his cum deeper into you YEAH

Breeding season has finally rolled in, which means you're stuck in Jack's room for however long he needs! How many times have you come already? You could barely feel your body anymore. His rough hands grabbed your ankles, pushing them until they reached your head. You could barely react before he started to drill his cock into you. "You’ll give me pups, right? Of course you will…”

Honorable mentions: Triceratops, Stand & Carry, and Missionary

Azul Ashengrotto

Spooning

He likes the intimacy of it, and he can hold you really close

Plus, you won't be able to see how fucked out he is

“Doing so good for me… fuck! So ti-tight…” You could feel his breath on your ears as he pulled you closer to his chest, burying his face into your shoulder while he ground up against you. Azul took his time ravaging you—he always did. His arms wrapped around your waist, making you unable to escape his grasp. Even in his human form, he had the strength of eight arms.

Honorable mentions: 69, Man Missionary, and Corkscrew

Jade Leech

He's a passionate man

He'll also fuck you on the nearest surface

Has a thing for bending you over tables, which is why I THINK he's a Burning Man position guy

His hand held your wrists as he pounded into you. Jade just couldn't wait until his shift was over, bending you over the counter in the kitchen. It's honestly surprising that no one has even accidentally barged in! “Jad—! Slow do-down, can't k-keep quiet!” Even with your pleas, his hips only thrust harsher into you. A sick part of him did hope people from the outside could hear how only his name remained in your mind while he fucked you to oblivion.

Honorable mentions: Corner Doggy, Legs on Shoulders, and Leg Glider

Floyd Leech

Missionary

YEAH HE IS THE MORE VANILLA TWIN

He likes to see the fucked-out expression on your face every time his cock hits that spot

Easier access to your clit too

“Yeah, ya like that, shrimpy~?” What was he even talking about? You could barely process his words with his finger kept on stimulating your clit. A high-pitched squeal left your lips when he made you come once more. If that wasn't enough, Floyd started to jackhammer his cock into you. It was barely noticeable, but your body has started moving towards the edge of the bed. Your head was practically hanging by the time Floyd had realised the situation. “Ha! Hold onto me if ya don' wanna fall~”

Honorable Mentions: Hang loose, Superwoman, and Effiel tower (iykyk)

Cater Diamond

Leona Kingscholar

Vil Schoenheit

Rook Hunt

Idia Shroud

Malleus Draconia

Lilia Vanrouge

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓 ✉︎

HE LOST COUNT WHEN SEEING YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY TOWARDS HIM. vil pauses, completely composed but there is a glint of confusion on his face.

he looks up at you and blinks once, eyes sharp and posture straight.

"my dear, what are you doing?"

you explain, in the sweetest tone, how you wanted to help him pay the bill.

he doesn't even let you finish, already sliding the bill back at you──shaking his head sternly.

"oh, nono please, put that away."

you forcefully pull the cash back towards you, blinking up at him as he finishes collecting the cash and placing it on the bill given.

"generosity is admirable, but let me treat my beloved whenever i please~ you deserve to be spoiled, and i intend on fulfilling it."

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎 ✉︎

HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK UP AT YOU, azul just flicks the bill back toward you and you slide it back.

a smile forces its way to your lips when he finally grabs the bill and twiddles it between his index and middle finger.

"my pearl, are you trying to make me laugh?"

his eyes are narrowed, posture confident and a sly smirk on his face. you say you wanted to help pay the bill, and he chuckles.

his polite laughs just sounds like money is raining before him, and he slides the bill back in your direction on the table and pays for the dinner from his card.

he'll take your hand and kiss your skin gently, eyes glaring behind his glasses as he smiles fondly.

"what a lovely gesture, my dear, but you need not worry about money as long as im with you~"

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ✉︎

HE'S ALREADY HUNCHED OVER AT THE TABLE, hair styled to show his face, suit ironed and fitted, poking at his food unable to make eye contact with anyone other then you─he even had a hard time ordering his plate.

he's already awkward as is, so when idia sees you slide over a fifty he immediately flinched.

what are you doing? why are you handing him a fifty? do you think he's broke?

he blinks once and immediately drops his fork with a clank. "wh―what are you doing ?..." you explained softly, smiling so much he can feel it in his soul.

idia shook his head, immediately wiping out his wallet and fumbles for his cash while panic explaining, "but―but i asked you out, you can't pay ! this isn't how it was supposed to go, put that away and just let me pay... please?"

at the end of it, he ends up paying and secretly sliding a few extra hundreds in your purse when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom―never will he let his woman pay for a meal.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀 ✉︎

WHEN YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY ACROSS THE TABLE CLOTH, malleus doesn't even bat an eye. he simply watches you retract your hand and smiling sweetly up at him.

"...what gesture is this?" he asks, curious as a child, tilting his head while he already planned to pay ahead.

you say you wanted to help with the bill, and malleus smiled. he's not offended, but more amused.

"your offering?"

little do you know, malleus already has the cash ready to hand over to the waiter.

as you nod your head, malleus already took the bills from his wallet and placed it into the billfold, taking another hundred and hands it to you back with the fifty.

"don't make me laugh, my love. it's said the man pays for the woman, yes? as future king and queen of briar valley, please, take the money, you deserve all the wealth in the world~"

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌 ✉︎

HE'S EXPECTING TO PAY FOR THE BILL, kalim doesn't register the fact you slide a fifty forward until he finally looks down.

he was mid-ramble, saying how good the food was―jamil having to be convinced multiple times─when he cuts himself off at the sight of your money.

he blinks, eventually understanding your intentions.

kalim gasps slightly, shakes his head and immediately pushes the cash back to you. "oh, no baby, you don't have to do that! it's my treat, don't worry!"

no matter how hard you try and say otherwise, kalim ends up paying for your meal and even sends you an extra two hundred for shopping<3

"let me treat you, okay? you deserve all the riches in the world ! besides, my mother wants you to shop at this store, she says you'll look beautiful in their clothes!"

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓 ✉︎

HE LOST COUNT WHEN SEEING YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY TOWARDS HIM. vil pauses, completely composed but there is a glint of confusion on his face.

he looks up at you and blinks once, eyes sharp and posture straight.

"my dear, what are you doing?"

you explain, in the sweetest tone, how you wanted to help him pay the bill.

he doesn't even let you finish, already sliding the bill back at you──shaking his head sternly.

"oh, nono please, put that away."

you forcefully pull the cash back towards you, blinking up at him as he finishes collecting the cash and placing it on the bill given.

"generosity is admirable, but let me treat my beloved whenever i please~ you deserve to be spoiled, and i intend on fulfilling it."

𝐀𝐙𝐔𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐎 ✉︎

HE DOESN'T EVEN LOOK UP AT YOU, azul just flicks the bill back toward you and you slide it back.

a smile forces its way to your lips when he finally grabs the bill and twiddles it between his index and middle finger.

"my pearl, are you trying to make me laugh?"

his eyes are narrowed, posture confident and a sly smirk on his face. you say you wanted to help pay the bill, and he chuckles.

his polite laughs just sounds like money is raining before him, and he slides the bill back in your direction on the table and pays for the dinner from his card.

he'll take your hand and kiss your skin gently, eyes glaring behind his glasses as he smiles fondly.

"what a lovely gesture, my dear, but you need not worry about money as long as im with you~"

𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐃 ✉︎

HE'S ALREADY HUNCHED OVER AT THE TABLE, hair styled to show his face, suit ironed and fitted, poking at his food unable to make eye contact with anyone other then you─he even had a hard time ordering his plate.

he's already awkward as is, so when idia sees you slide over a fifty he immediately flinched.

what are you doing? why are you handing him a fifty? do you think he's broke?

he blinks once and immediately drops his fork with a clank. "wh―what are you doing ?..." you explained softly, smiling so much he can feel it in his soul.

idia shook his head, immediately wiping out his wallet and fumbles for his cash while panic explaining, "but―but i asked you out, you can't pay ! this isn't how it was supposed to go, put that away and just let me pay... please?"

at the end of it, he ends up paying and secretly sliding a few extra hundreds in your purse when you excuse yourself to go to the bathroom―never will he let his woman pay for a meal.

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐔𝐒 𝐃𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐀 ✉︎

WHEN YOU SLIDE THE FIFTY ACROSS THE TABLE CLOTH, malleus doesn't even bat an eye. he simply watches you retract your hand and smiling sweetly up at him.

"...what gesture is this?" he asks, curious as a child, tilting his head while he already planned to pay ahead.

you say you wanted to help with the bill, and malleus smiled. he's not offended, but more amused.

"your offering?"

little do you know, malleus already has the cash ready to hand over to the waiter.

as you nod your head, malleus already took the bills from his wallet and placed it into the billfold, taking another hundred and hands it to you back with the fifty.

"don't make me laugh, my love. it's said the man pays for the woman, yes? as future king and queen of briar valley, please, take the money, you deserve all the wealth in the world~"

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌 ✉︎

HE'S EXPECTING TO PAY FOR THE BILL, kalim doesn't register the fact you slide a fifty forward until he finally looks down.

he was mid-ramble, saying how good the food was―jamil having to be convinced multiple times─when he cuts himself off at the sight of your money.

he blinks, eventually understanding your intentions.

kalim gasps slightly, shakes his head and immediately pushes the cash back to you. "oh, no baby, you don't have to do that! it's my treat, don't worry!"

no matter how hard you try and say otherwise, kalim ends up paying for your meal and even sends you an extra two hundred for shopping<3

"let me treat you, okay? you deserve all the riches in the world ! besides, my mother wants you to shop at this store, she says you'll look beautiful in their clothes!"

Your name cut through the noise like a whistle, and you spun around, heart leaping. James stood a few feet away, already in half a mess with his trunk. His glasses were slightly crooked, hair more unruly than ever, and the grin splitting his face was wide enough to eclipse the morning sun.

“James!” You rushed forward without hesitation, crashing into him with enough force to make him stumble back a step. He laughed, his arms wrapping firmly around you in that careless way that only James Potter ever could.

“Merlin’s beard, I missed you,” he said into your hair.

Your laugh came out muffled against his shoulder, but before you could answer, the impact of the hug made your bag slip from your shoulder and crash to the ground. You bent instinctively to retrieve it—only to find another hand reaching for it at the same time.

Your fingers brushed against theirs.

Your head snapped up.

And your breath lodged itself squarely in your throat.

Remus Lupin.

Remus fucking Lupin.

He crouched opposite you, his long fingers brushing yours lightly as he lifted the bag. And when he looked up at you, offering the faintest curve of a smile, you felt your stomach lurch like you had stepped onto a broom far too high in the air.

“Got it,” he said quietly, handing it over. “You always were clumsy with this thing.”

Your lips parted, but no words came. Remus Lupin… he looked impossibly, devastatingly different. Painfully, shockingly so.

He had always been tall—taller than everyone else—but now, over the summer, he seemed to have stretched further, shoulders broader, chest lean yet impossibly strong. His hair fell longer now, soft and careless over his forehead, begging to be touched. His skin—warm and alive—seemed to radiate desire, as if the moon itself had left a mark on him.

Since when had he been this… this unbearably, sinfully attractive? You wanted to tell him, but the words were gone, stolen by the heat of him, by the ache and wetness building between your legs.

“Merlin, I missed you,” he murmured, his eyes warm as they swept over you with fondness.

You swallowed hard and stood, clutching your bag a little too tightly. He pulled you into an embrace before you could think to stop him. His arms folded around you, strong and sure, and you pressed your cheek against the fabric of his shirt, suddenly all too aware of the solid muscle beneath it.

“I… I missed you too,” you managed, though the words trembled with more meaning than you would ever dare admit.

“Hey there, wankers! Make room, make room!” Sirius Black’s voice rang out, seconds before he crashed into both of you, dragging you into his usual bear-like hug. You squealed, half crushed between the two of them, as James joined the chaos, laughing at the way you practically disappeared in the middle of it.

“Bloody hell, Pads, you’ll suffocate her,” James scolded, but Sirius only grinned, planting an exaggerated kiss to the top of your head.

“I missed our girl,” Sirius announced.

You laughed despite yourself, but your eyes betrayed you, flickering back toward Remus the moment Sirius loosened his grip. He was standing slightly apart now, his hand curled around the strap of his trunk, and as he bent to lift it you couldn’t help noticing the way the fabric of his shirt pulled against his arms, the ripple of lean muscle beneath. 

When the hell had Remus gotten hot?

You caught yourself staring and forced your gaze elsewhere, but the thought stayed, looping endlessly in your head. As the four of you began pushing through the crowd toward the train, the boys already falling back into their familiar banter, you found your focus dissolving. 

Sirius cracked jokes. James complained about his mum nearly sending him off with a lecture longer than his trunk. And Remus spoke occasionally, his voice low and rough in a way that curled in your stomach. Every time he laughed, deep and unguarded, you felt heat crawl up the back of your neck.

As you all boarded the train, Remus, ever the gentleman, insisted on taking your bag despite your protests.

“I’ve got it,” he said firmly, his hand brushing yours as he pulled the strap free. The muscles in his forearm shifted under the fabric of his shirt, and you quickly decided you did not mind the chivalry one bit.

“Show-off,” Sirius muttered, smirking as he shoved his own trunk down the corridor, narrowly missing a terrified-looking second-year.

The four of you managed to squeeze into a compartment at the end of the train, sliding the door shut as the whistle blew and the train lurched into motion. 

Conversation flowed easily—James animatedly recounting Quidditch drills he had been running all summer, Sirius interrupting with increasingly absurd jokes, you chiming in here and there with updates of your own. Remus, as always, was quieter, listening more than speaking, but every now and then his gaze flickered toward you, lingering just long enough for your stomach to flip.

At one point, you caught him staring. He smiled softly and leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Your brow furrowed. “Hmm? Nothing’s wrong. Why would you think that?”

His lips quirked as though he had caught you out in a lie. “I don’t know. You just seem… different. A little shy, maybe.”

You gave a small laugh, shaking your head. “Shy? Hardly. I spent years putting up with you lot, didn’t I?”

“Exactly,” he teased lightly, the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “So what happened? Did you forget all about us during that long summer away?”

You scoffed, though your chest tightened at the warmth in his tone. “Of course not. Nothing’s different. I’m fine, Remus. Promise.”

James groaned, tossing his head back dramatically. “Merlin, I’m starving. How long until the trolley comes around?”

“Not soon enough,” Sirius muttered, half sprawled across the seat. Then his eyes flicked toward James, a glint of mischief lighting them. “Actually… Lily’s in the next carriage, right? We should make sure Prongs gets a word in before she wanders off. Don’t want him missing his chance.”

James’s grin widened, a mix of relief and excitement. “Brilliant. If we don’t make it back, tell Evans I love her,” he added with mock solemnity.

“You say that every day,” you pointed out, a small laugh escaping you.

“Well, just in case it actually sticks this time,” James said, standing and adjusting his tie. Sirius gave him a sly nudge, and together they headed for the door, James’s energy practically radiating in his eagerness to see Lily.

The compartment door clicked shut behind them, leaving you and Remus in the sudden quiet. The hum of the train and the rhythmic clatter of wheels against the tracks became suddenly more intimate, your closeness to him filling the space in a way the others never had.

You exhaled slowly, sinking back into your seat. For a moment, the only sound was the steady clatter of the train rushing over the tracks. 

“So,” he said softly, tilting his head. “Still want to tell me nothing’s different?”

Your throat went dry. “I… I don’t know what you mean,” you murmured, trying to sound casual but failing.

You can’t meet his eyes. Not when he looks like that—every line of his body, every flicker of movement, pulling at something raw inside you. Your gaze drops instinctively, fixed somewhere on your lap, on the floor, anywhere but him.

Remus notices immediately. He leans forward, elbows braced on his knees, and cups your face gently, tilting it so you’re forced to meet his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he murmurs, voice low, almost concerned. “Why won’t you look at me?”

Your eyes flicker down, almost by accident, to his lips. And then—he notices. A slow, teasing smile spreads across his face. “So… that’s what it’s about,” he says, voice a little husky.

Your face twists in horror, heart hammering. Friendships, boundaries… this is crossing lines, isn’t it?

But before panic can take over, his hand shifts, sliding down to your lips. His thumb brushes across them softly, almost reverently, and then gently pulls them downward.

His gaze locks on your mouth, dreamy, unfocused, and he sighs, soft and full of awe. “You’re so… pretty, y’know that?”

Then, without warning, his thumb slides into your mouth. Your lips part instinctively, curling around him as you suck softly, tasting him, feeling the tremor of need and disbelief running through you. 

“Fuck…” Remus murmured, and the huskiness in his voice made your stomach tighten. His fingers pulled back, and the sudden absence left you aching, desperate, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped.

He leaned closer, eyes dark and searching, tilting his head just enough to catch your gaze. “Can I… kiss you?” he asked, voice low, almost a growl.

“Please…” you breathed, barely able to form the word.

Before you could finish, his lips crashed into yours, urgent and insistent. His body pressed into yours, driving you gently but insistently against the compartment wall.

The train rattled beneath you, but the only movement that mattered was his—the way he claimed you, the heat radiating from him, the fire in his kiss.

Through the hurried, consuming press of lips, he suddenly moved, gripping your waist and spinning you so he was pressed against the wall and you were directly in front of him.

He settled onto the seat with a soft thud, pulling you against him, your bodies flush, hearts hammering, breaths mingling.

His hands, hot and purposeful, trailed upward, cupping your jaw as he leaned in again. His fingers followed the line of your throat, thumb resting over your pulse point, dipping just under the neckline of your top. He broke the kiss for a heartbeat, letting his mouth drift up your cheek, nipping softly at your earlobe.

He knows he’s hit a sweet spot right there under your ear, because you feel his mouth spread in a grin.

“That’s my girl,” he says softly.

He’s feeling for the top fastening at the back of your neck, and you drop your arms, pressing your palms into the warm, sunbaked brick as he frees the buttons of your shirt. 

Your gaze flicked instinctively toward the compartment door, nerves prickling as the muffled chatter and footsteps from the corridor seeped through the glass. For a fleeting moment you worried someone might catch you like this, lips already swollen from the press of his, your back warm against the plush seat of the train. 

Remus, reading the flicker of hesitation in your eyes, let his mouth linger at the corner of yours before drawing his wand in a deft, practiced motion. 

With a quiet murmur, the tip glowed faintly and the sounds beyond the compartment dulled, swallowed into silence. His lips curved into a sly smile as his breath ghosted over your ear. “Can’t have anyone hear us, yeah?”

He lets his hands dance over the thin fabric. His touches tease, cupping you in his hands and finding your nipples with his pinching thumbs. You gasp, hands scrambling against the wall to keep yourself up.

When Remus looks up at you again, the grin is still dancing over his face as your chest arches instinctively towards him in response.

“I’ve wanted this,” Remus says. He sounds purring, satisfied and smug, like he’s just gotten what he wants after throwing a temper tantrum and proud of his victory. “I’ve been waiting to touch you for so long.”

You moan, feeling the roughness of his fingers over the satin covering of the undergarment. His hands push, rolling to your ribcage and back up from under your chest to smear over you, and every last bit of fear is pushed away with his persistent touch.

You’re left only with the desire that’s been deep inside you since you first saw him looking this attractive, the desire you tried to deny and tame with logic and self-imposed rules, and finally accepting.

“And… if I say… I’ve wanted you too?”

You’re rocking against the compartment wall as your back arches into him.

“Oh, you wicked tease,” Remus says. There’s a crackle of glee in his voice, and he leans up, planting another quick kiss on your lips before slowly dropping down to his knees, tugging the rest of your clothing down with him. 

"Take off your panties for me," Remus mumbles between your busied lips. His words draw a happy smirk, you follow his command, grounding yourself onto the floor, dizzied for just a quick moment, shoving your panties down your legs before jumping back in his lap. 

Head thrown back, a needy moan vibrates in your tight throat as you move your hips against him.

"You're so wet, do you like how it feels?" Remus taps his cock over your clit, a needy whine leaving your lips as you nod. "Yeah, I love it."

Remus tilted your chin with a gentle touch, his gaze flickering between your eyes and your lips before he closed the distance. In an instant, the velvety press of his mouth met yours, sending warmth rushing through you as your body molded against his. 

A soft hum escaped you into the kiss, your fingers sliding up the sides of his neck until they tangled in the sleek strands of his carefully combed hair.

What began as tender soon unraveled into something far more urgent—ardent, insatiable, almost feral in its intensity. Hunger coursed through you, searing in your veins, igniting every nerve with relentless desire.

When Remus finally drew back, a delicate thread of saliva glistened between your parted lips. His eyes lingered on your features, brimming with quiet adoration, before he murmured, “So cute.” 

You brushed another fleeting kiss against his mouth, only to jolt when his hand descended to your ass. The startled sound that left you was swiftly chased by his low, amused laugh, threaded with pleasure.

"Get on your knees."

Single-handedly, Remus won your soul, heart, mind, body. He gained complete, fruitious love and desire from you.

Every feature from this divinely perfectly human you adored; from his kindness and consideration, every corner of his mind and heart, him as a whole.

Perfect, in every sense of the word.

With a fluttering heart, you sink down to your knees.

Once seated comfortably with your forelegs on the floor, you awaited further instructions with pleading eyes that fell down to his aching cock. "Are you comfortable Y/N?" You nod in reassurance, a small smile creeping your lips.

"Have I ever told you how absolutely stunning you are?" Remus looked, equally as starstruck as you were; eyes locked in a thick trance over your form, lingering in your desire riddled eyes. “You look marvelous on your knees for me, darling.”

And in his honeysuckle brown eyes, lust resided just the same.

"If only you knew how I look at you." You exhaled. It came out in a dreamy sigh, though you wanted to conjure a much stronger, confident voice. 

"Oh? And what might that be?" His interest piqued, Remus's eyes pierce through yours. 

"A God, a divinely perfect being."

Remus chuckles, cheeks reddened, "I am far from a perfect being, love." He offers a hand, and you take it, allowing him to brush his thumb over your knuckles, leaning down in his chair to kiss them.

"Can I touch you?" You ask, eager to learn his body, to please the man before you.

Remus smiles, “Oh love, I am all yours to touch." Remus sits back up, leaning against the back of his chair.

Creeping your hands up his thighs,

Locking your gaze into his, you lean into his lap, taking the tip gently in your mouth. His eyebrows knit, adjusting to the sudden change in stimulation. The intensity of his eyes never faltered, not once, even as you tease his sensitive cock.

The leather squealed beneath the tightening grip Remus's hand has around the arm rest of the train seats, a low groan ensuing the contact from your sinful mouth. Hallowing your cheeks, you gently sucked on the tip, refusing to take in his full length.

He certainly wasn't complaining.

You were hoping he'd demand you to take it all in sooner, instead, you were reveling in Remus's low, soft whimpers.

"Be a good girl, stop teasing," He growled through grit teeth, his hand taking in a firm grip of your hair. You resisted the urge to smile, and complied.

Your head jerked forward, beginning to bob on his length, feeling his cock hit the back of your throat. Trying your hardest not to gag, tears welled in your eyes, still never leaving Remus's face.

You could tell he appreciated the eye contact.

Your jaw was beginning to ache, but you certainly didn't mind, especially when it was to please Remus. 

Oh, how you would bend yourself to his will, as though every breath in your lungs had been spun for the sole purpose of pleasing him. You would not mind eternity at his feet, the cold stone of devotion pressing against your knees until time itself grew weary. For there was no God you had ever prayed to, no altar you had ever known, that could rival the sanctity of Remus Lupin. 

In your eyes, there was nothing monstrous in him at all. Remus was no beast, but something sanctified—stitched together from scars and quiet tenderness, a soul carved of both ache and grace. He alone was worthy of devotion, the only altar you would ever kneel before.

Drool seeped from your mouth, dribbling down your chin. Instead of scratching the urge to reach up and wipe it away, your hand comes up to cup his balls, flesh soft and dainty in your palm. 

Remus gently tugs your head from his dick, bouncing lightly as it was released from your mouth. 

A thin trail of saliva attaches your lips to his cock as he draws back. You wipe the back of your mouth, looking up at him and panting slightly.

“We’re not done,” Remus says softly, and he grabs the sides of your face in his hands and draws you towards him again. This kiss is frantic, ravenous, deeply hungry as his mouth is over yours once more. 

His taste—warm, heady, almost dizzying—mingles with your own as you clutch at his wrists, desperate to keep him pressed against you. The narrow compartment walls rattle faintly with the rhythm of the train, but all you feel is his body caging yours, his weight anchoring you in place. 

Your back digs into the worn seats, hips straining forward to meet him, while Remus mutters broken curse words into your mouth, low and ragged, as though the very act of kissing you unravels him.

You let go of his wrists with a squeeze and move your arms out, running your hands along the expanse of his chest. His skin is warm and rises and falls rapidly with his heavy breaths. You moan, the sound slipping louder from your chest as you let go of him and let your hands fall back.

“Be a good girl, and don’t scream, okay?”

You nod, trying to keep yourself under control as much as possible, but it’s so difficult, damningly difficult. The worn velvet of the seat presses roughly into your back, turning almost pleasurable as he moves against you.

The aching need is building, roaring, longing to feel him inside you. Your cunt throbs, hot and wet, feeling his cock right under you. 

You want Remus, you need him.

“My good girl,” Remus says, his voice raspy with lust. His eyes lock on yours, dark and love-struck, and he leans closer, lips barely brushing yours. “My fucking perfect girl… always wanted you, always loved you.” 

You groan, adjusting your feet and standing a little further apart, and it’s just what he needs to angle his next rocking motion forward right into you, lubricated by your own slick arousal.

“Oh!”

It’s hard to keep your promise to be quiet, your knees immediately going weak at the feeling of his first thrust into you. This is even better, and Remus’s next thrust into you is smooth and deeper as you slump into the wall. You try to buck your hips back to meet him, but his pace is too hard and fast even as you try to move with him.

Remus moves with full force, hands holding your shoulders before shifting to brace himself over your head as he grunts with his thrusts. His muscles strain on either side of your head and his face, and your hands ball into fists against the brick. 

He fills you up with every thrust with how hard he’s fucking you. His cock almost feels like you’re splitting apart. You feel your slick wetness against your inner eyes, pooling out of you with every stroke out and pump back in, and the moans ride out of you louder and louder.

“Shhh,” Remus hisses as your voice rises, and moves one of his hands from the wall over your head to cover your mouth, thumb into your cheek and side of his hand pushing between your lips. It cuts off your sound, and you lightly bite that space between his thumb and forefinger as your voice gurgles into a whimper.

Remus thrusts his hips up into you harsher and faster, the heat burning at the base of your stomach beginning to spread through your body as his thrusts fall into a frantic rhythm. 

Your thighs begin to shake at the effort of keeping your body at this angle, and it turns into a full-body quiver. It races against the build of your orgasm, and you whine into his hand again as his cock rubs into you with each stroke. “Please, please please—you feel so good!”

“Hold onto me, hold tight,” Remus whispers roughly, and lets go of your mouth. His pace falters a little as you do what he says. You wrap your arms around his neck under his hair, and both of his hands come to scoop your ass — digging right into the back of your thighs as he hoists you up against the wall of the train compartment.

You gasp, half in pain at the sudden change of positions, and mostly in a shooting, delicious pleasure as he lifts you effortlessly over his cock. It makes his thrusts even deeper as he fucks you against the compartment wall— he leans his body into yours. 

The pressure is electric, and you squeeze your thighs around him, crossing your ankles and bringing Remus closer to you.

“You…feel so good, so tight—so fucking perfect.” Remus says, his voice low but clear against you.

Your arms clutch over his back, digging your nails into the firm skin, arching your neck as you buck and moan under the warmth of his body, muffling yourself in his shoulder as you try to keep quiet. 

Remus’s lips are moving again against your throat, suckling and kissing with an urgency as his mouth opens against you to leave love bites. “Gonna mark you up, love. Make sure everyone knows you’re mine now.” He whimpers out in desperation. 

Your body trembles even harder as you struggle to take a clear breath, pinned between him and the wall — your entire body a live wire. His breath is just as wild, something hungry over your body that makes your skin prickle as his grunts and groans vibrate over you. 

“Fuck, oh fuck,” you whisper into his shoulder. His cock stretches you, plunging deeper, deliciously pulling you apart as he comes in, rocks out, and slams back in again.

“How long…have you been waiting to get fucked like this?”

You scrape your nails up across his back, coming up to his shoulders again for balance. Your inner thigh muscles strain against the expanse of his body, and you try to clench your muscles to keep yourself against his hips.

“Since… since I saw you,” you admit jaggedly, briefly closing your eyes and hunching your shoulders into Remus, his breath hot on your neck. “I wanted you.. You looked so good, so hot.”

He makes a sound like a sharp laugh, like it’s all he can force out. “Tease,” he says, almost triumphantly. His fingers dig into your flesh and suddenly his thrusts move frantically. He’s fucking you harder, your composure fully coming apart.

Changing where his hands were positioned, one creeps to thumb your clit in rhythmic circles. A sheen of sweat lie on both of your bodies, uncomfortable against the fabric of your pants, still bunched at your hips.

The sound of flesh-on-flesh filled the compartment, almost as loud as the cries and wails that followed them.

You wouldn't last long at this rate; the speed, and roughness of his snapping hips, the sounds of his pants, his cries of pleasure, the way his brows were knitted on his face, mouth hanging open to catch his breaths as they left, the emotion burrowed in his eyes as they pierce yours. 

You wish you could live in this moment forever; feel this vicious, wicked, brewing pleasure sparking in your core, the numbing—the tingling of your limbs, the heat that coursed like magma in your veins.

He leaned further down into you, taking your nipple in his mouth. You arch into his touch, feeling his tongue flick along your sensitive bud, teeth gently dragging along its flesh

“Remus!”

You force your head back, leaning against the wall as your body rides up and down with the force of his movements. Your body is racing towards the long-desired orgasm hard and fast with every thrust of his cock.

He catches your lips, and you whimper into his mouth as the kiss moves. Your fingers dig into skin just as his does— his moans caught in your throat as they come out. The tight, hot heat at the base of your stomach is so close to bursting. You’re ready, you’re so close.

“Remus.. I’m…I’m going to come, I‘m going to come,” you say, gasping, forcing the words as you try to stifle the cries with his kiss. But Remus leans back, immediately parting from your lips.

“I want to hear you. I want to hear you come for me,” he says, eyes flashing and teeth gritting in a devious smile.

You whimper, feeling your inner thighs quiver, unable to sustain any of it anymore. “Remus—”

“I want to hear you come, I don’t care if the whole fucking train hears,” he says, insistent. His voice, deep and raw, is enough alone to push you over the edge.

You whine again, but it’s weaker, your body so overstimulated.

“Let go,” Remus says, and you feel your whole body shudder as it breaks. And you scream. You feel your inner muscles tighten and spasm over Remus’s cock as the heat wave roars through you. It reaches up behind your stomach as you come apart over him.

Remus comes too with his own symphony of groans, grinding his hips deep into your tight core and pushing you directly against the wall—almost into the compartments as his frantic thrusts break rhythm.

You gasp, feeling him hot inside you as your nails dig into his shoulders, the waves of pain and pleasure crashing into each other.

He kisses you again as his cock throbs inside you, holding you close as the kisses come tender this time, fingers flexing and bending into you as both of you come down. Remus pulls out of you as he helps you back down on your feet. 

Remus kisses you once more, tenderly as he pulls his pants back up, bending down to gather the bundles of fabric. He smooths out your pants and buttons up your shirt back again.

Remus’s hand rises, brushing a trembling fingertip against your cheek to wipe away the faint tears of pleasure that had escaped you.

“Are you okay, love? Was I too rough?” His voice is gentle now, threaded with concern, and you can’t help but smile up at him, suddenly feeling impossibly shy after the fire and recklessness of moments before. 

You shake your head, words soft: “No… you were perfect.”

He laughs, low and amused, as if he notices the change in you, and leans closer. Your breath catches, heart stuttering, as his lips hover just above yours. 

Then he pauses, teasing, and whispers, “Why so shy, baby? Thought you wanted me… because I’m so hot, huh?”

You’re dumbfounded, cheeks warming, because fuck—he really does look that good. The way the scarred lines on his face catch the light, the subtle smirk playing at his lips—he knows exactly the effect he has on you. Your thoughts scatter, caught between disbelief and desire, until finally, he closes the distance.

When his lips meet yours, it’s a kiss so impossibly soft it makes your knees weak. Gentle and passionate all at once, it lingers in a way that feels infinite. 

When he finally pulls back, his eyes catch yours, dark and alive, and he straightens in the seat. “Don’t want you to think this was a one-time thing,” he says casually, though his voice holds a weight that makes your stomach twist.

“What do you mean?” you ask, confusion and curiosity tangled in your tone.

He laughs, that familiar, knowing sound, and slides back into the seat, gesturing for you to come closer. 

You step forward, heart racing, and he catches your waist in his hands, looking up at you with those piercing eyes. “Do you think I’d fuck you like that if it was a one-time thing?” he asks, voice low, teasing, but laced with undeniable certainty.

“I mean it,” he murmurs, tilting his head so close your foreheads almost touch. “When I said I’ve always wanted you… I never saw you as a friend.”

Before Remus can even finish the confession that had your heart beating out of your chest, the compartment door snaps open.

And there they are, Sirius and James, both grinning like they’ve just won some cosmic jackpot.

Your stomach drops. You’re nearly on Remus’s lap, hair a glorious mess, sweat glinting on your skin, and the love bites on your neck practically screaming your sins for all of Hogwarts to hear. James’s eyes widen as if he’s taking in the full tableau, every detail recorded for posterity.

Sirius throws back his head and laughs, a deep, roaring sound that makes you want to melt into the floor. 

“Oh, Moony,” he says between chuckles, voice dripping with mischief. “Did you really think casting a silencing spell would get you not caught? You had the entire fucking train shaking, you horny dogs!”

Remus freezes, lips parted, cheeks blazing, while you cover your face with your hands, groaning.

James doesn’t even try to hide his grin, leaning casually against the doorframe like he’s judging a particularly scandalous performance.

𝙎𝙁𝙒

————✧

✰ Feliciano Vargas/Italy

• Italy is a romantic, and him being a romantic is a great plus for dates! He goes the extra mile; getting you flowers, dinner reservation on a rooftop, and best of all, eating pasta with you! Most of these dates end with a walk around a quiet secluded section of his land, holding hands and just talking. The conversations can get deep and artistic, or romantic and teasing. Regardless of whatever you two talk about, he enjoys them very much.

•Italy also loves to handfeed you as a gesture of intimacy and would be over the moon if you did it for him too.

• One downside of dating Feliciano is that he can often times fail to protect you from actual danger. Say you were to be approached by a large attacker, Italy’s initial instinct is to call Germany for help or hide behind you, which can be a turn off. However, that doesn’t mean he isn’t protective all the time. Surprisingly, he has great strength and potential. When he feels that the danger is minor, he would step in and de-escalate the situation which always ends up successful (most of the time).

• Feliciano is a great cook and he makes very good desserts and Italian dishes, with each bite tasting like heaven on earth whenever you get to try them. While the only dish he makes is pasta, if you were craving for a different dish or dessert, like Tiramisu, he would make it just for you; preparing it to perfection.

• If you’ve seen what Italy looks like with his eyes open, they can be considered beautiful. Whenever he interacts with you, his eyes are closed. This changes specifically on special ocasions: when you both share a kiss or wake up and sleep together. He opens them because he knows just how pretty you think they are, and allows you to get lost into them. Italy uses it as a way to see him truly, raw and unfiltered. He also uses it as a way to see you properly, your soft lips, beautiful eyes, etc.

• He loves to talk about you to Japan and Germany, admiring your talents, personality, and appearance. They have no choice except to listen, but seeing Italy happy is a thing they couldn’t want more. Additionally, he likes to include you on adventures or activities they happen to be doing for the day. A lot of these requests for you to join them are turned down by Germany, believing that you may be inexperienced whenever they train, or defenseless whenever they fight.

✰ Ludwig Beilschmidt/Germany

• Dating Ludwig is an impressive achievement to many eyes. He’s strict, organized, and prefers to be a strong man all the time. Due to this, he can be a stick in the ass all the time; a trait that many people find a turn off. So when you managed to win the heart of the authoritarian German, people asked how you even managed to pull that off.

• Germany can be quite romantic when he wants, and whenever you go on dates, they’re organized and specific. He’s always on time, knows what gifts to bring you, and knows what moment he should kiss you. It’s almost as if he’s done this before, and not only that, he does these things so confidently. However, deep inside he is scared to death that he’ll do something that will make you mad or disappointed in him, which is why he tries so hard for things to be perfect.

• He doesn’t like PDA that much. The most he’d do is wrap an arm around you or hold hands but that’s all. His ideology is that you never show the enemy weakness, stand your ground at all times. It’s not that Ludwig doesn’t love you or think you’re unattractive, he just doesn’t want to appear soft in public. His affection is a completely different story whenever you two are private.

• When you’re up for it, Germany loves to train with you. He’s surprisingly gentle with you compared to his pestering towards Italy and Japan. If you make a mistake, he does become disappointed but lets you try again with a bit of his guidance. He likes using pet names whenever you two are alone in the training grounds, praising you whenever you do something good. It’s a side nobody but you—and maybe Italy—can see.

• Germany is a dog lover, that’s a known fact. And if you’re wanting to be with him, you have to get along with his dogs. He enjoys to see them bond with you and lick your face, it genuinely warms his heart whenever he sees you and his dogs happy.

✰ Honda Kiku/Japan

• When you’re in a relationship with Japan, patience is a virtue. In the first chapters of the relationship, Japan is very shy and reserved, considering his otaku behavior. He becomes startled at times at your presence. Like if he walked into another room and saw you sitting there, he would unsheathe his katana out of instinct, immediately assuming that you were an intruder. Being in isolation for 250 years has done a number on him. He’s so used to being on his own, never leaving outside and having zero social interaction. So romantic relationships are a pretty unknown territory for him, having only some knowledge from a few romance mangas and novels he’s read. He will often be alone is his room even if he has you as company, but slowly he’ll warm up to you and truly acknowledge your existence.

• It’s known that Japan is a great chef and loves to cook. On days where he feels like impressing you a little, he would make a pretty large dinner date for you two (which takes place in his home, of course,) filled with a 3 course meal, and the best one being dessert since you’re usually the one helping him make it, just for bonding experience. Praising his cooking skills would result in a happy and fulfilled Japan.

• If you’re both up for it, he’d love to go to a sauna or hotspring with you on special occasions like anniversaries, Valentine’s Day, etc. Usually you two go to a Ryokan for a night or two, where saunas and bathhouses are available. While he doesn’t see you during the bathing sessions (not early in the relationship he doesn’t), he likes to hear about your experience being in one. Unfortunately you both don’t go all the time due to the ridiculously high prices of most bath houses.

• Japan, being the otaku that he is, would love it if you watched anime with him. Bonus points if you’re into the same series as him. On your downtime, you both read manga and then chat about it afterwards, sometimes debating which character could beat who, or just expressing opinions and criticism regarding the manga and its contents. Additionally, Japan illustrates manga and, further into the relationship, would love to show you his latest pieces and works, including having a little draw and chat date with you. It’s perfect, you both dont need to go outside and can enjoy each other’s company in the comfort of his home.

• There are times where Japan may call or text you, requesting for some space, and time to himself. These moments can range from a few days to a month, or in extreme cases, a few years. But of course, he texts you to check up and see if you’re doing alright especially being so far away from him. If you were to do the same thing for him, it would warm his heart to see how much you cared for him. Downside is that he always feels guilty for leaving you in such a state, but with a little bit of reassurance, he’ll be fine afterwards.

✰ Alfred F. Jones/America

• Dating America is a wild ride, quite literally. He’s full of himself and brags about nearly eveything he has under the moon, hell he even brags that he has an alien companion named Tony that is from the moon! The most you need to do is listen, act impressed if you need to and he’ll take a large interest in you.

• Suprsingly, whenever you two go on a date, he’s always on time and brings gifts or flowers. Alfred really wants to impress you and show that he isn’t all just big guy talk, and when you can see that, it makes him feel comfortable to be truly what he is, maybe even becoming vulnerable in front of you. Most of the dates you and him go on are at a fast food place or the movies where you watch marvel or DC films, but this is only if you tell him to choose. On the contrary, if you chose where the date is then he wouldn’t fight; on the condition that you both get burgers on the way back home.

• Some days, you and him check out his army bases to make sure everything fine, or to start/check on any projects for the U.S military. While there, he likes to flex off his troops manpower and fighter jets, even letting you sit in the one he personally operates and look at all the controls and functions in the cockpit saying, “You would look great in the sky, I think it’ll be so damn hot if you flew off in the sky, fighting our enemies in my jet.”

• Alfred isn’t one to get personal and vulnerable on the spot, but when he does; his whole big guy demeanor drops. Late into the relationship and when he trusts you enough, he’ll tell you about his experience with England in the early days. His revolt against his kingdom and how he deals with it now. These moments require reassurance and respect since it’s a rather sensitive topic, but not sensitive enough to where he’s crying; hell, he even laughs a little talking about it with you. Telling you that he doesn’t care anymore.

• If you both ever owned a house together or even if you both lived separately, he would like to do handy-work if you ever had a problem in your home. You’d like to renovate it? He’ll do all the work with a couple of his guys. You have some issues with electricity or plumbing or anything like that? He would fix it in a heartbeat with some unknown knowledge. However, this comes at a price with you needing to buy him some fast food or more physical activities as a thank you.

• In moments where you two are alone and at his house, he loves cuddling with you and talking about things like plans for the week, telling stories about the past, gossip about other nations, and a bunch more that always gets you both talking for hours. These moments are where his hugs and cuddles feel the warmest, and you feel really safe in his arms. He tends to lower his guard during this and really feels the warmth of your smile and laugh. As much as he doesn’t want to admit, seeing you happy because of him gives him butterflies, and he’ll do his best to make sure that smile is kept on your face.

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