#and i love taking care of their things after they have long passed. giving it a second life. letting them continue to exist in a way

[nawoken]

im back with more thoughts on soulbound au. Wjat if reader's Soulmate got isekaied to twst and expected reader to return to them cuz theyre soulmates as if they didnt just reject the name on their wrist, as if they have the right to just demand it even as reader is with the first years now (excluding ortho grim). How would the boys react to reader just snapping and declaring they feel no love for soulmate. That they love their current partner instead. I can imagine some of them just gloating and acting like a really doting partner in front of the soulmate like "look what you cant have"

Bonus for grim and ortho like "who needs you when i have my feral cat/technological humanoid built by a genius. Get his ass!" And they just send grim and ortho out like pokemons LMAO

Love yourself

(TWST x Broken Soulbond! Reader)

5.C: Hehe, I’m glad u have the same thought as mine, Mortal~

Because as petty as I am, since the moment I had the idea for this AU, I already have the scene where your Soulmate by some way gets to TWST and wants the reader back but gets rejected by them.

I mean, who do they think they are, broke the strongest bond in the world and then came back and demanded it like they deserve it?!

The name has two meanings since the content of this one chapter reminded me of "Love Yourself" by Justin Bieber as something reader would want to tell their Soulmate. The other is just simply loving yourself, something I want to tell you guys and myself.

Pairing: Ace Trappolar; Deuce Spade x g/n Reader

I will do the other later I guess, sorry for the late update, I have writer's block for this one, including my absence due to January cause I have a school break.

Warning: :D)

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

The moment your Soulmate lands their ass at TWST, you can feel the tug in your heart, the arch, the itch of your Soulmark, and the familiar pulling come from your soul that you’ve almost forgotten during your stay at twisted wonderland. That’s how you know they’re here, and they also feel your faint presence.

Ace Trappola:

He is unhappy when hearing that your Soulmate has spawned in TWST. (Let’s be real, all of them are, maybe except Kalim or Vil…)

He is sulking the whole way both of you walk to the Headmage office cause apparently, your Soulmate demands to see you the moment they know you’re here.

Ace refuses to let you meet that person alone, Crowley? That crow can not be trusted.

Hearing them ask you to go back, with them, and by their side. Ace glares hard as if if he tries enough, that person will disappear.

They, in fact, do not disappear though.

Plan B, Ace starts to make some comments, he is sarcastic about your Soulmate, berating their behavior toward you.

He interferes every time you try to speak up, to give your supposed to be Soulmate an answer. Basically, he is being annoying till the point you have to kick him out of the room.

Ace doesn't really want to hear your answer, deep down, he worries that you will actually choose your Soulmate over him.

Waiting outside until you finish your conversation, no matter how long it takes.

Seeing you walking out of the room, he tries to act like he doesn't care. But he cares, a lot actually.

Tell him you have rejected the request since... you already have him as your Soulmate while showing him the Basketball wrist wrap he gave you.

Gotta say Heartslabyul is very good at growing tomatoes.

The following days were a series of days, each time you guys pass by your Soulmate, Ace will give them a smug look while walking hand in hand with you.

Deuce Spade:

Deuce, our sweetheart. The first thing he does after he hears that your Soulmate wants to meet you: Asks if you want him to beat them for you.

I mean, ask if you want him to assist you or do you prefer meeting them alone because model students don’t fight (Please bring him with you Ơ ^ Ơ).

It actually doesn’t matter, he will still follow you if you choose the second option, but more secretly (not really).

He doesn’t like your Soulmate, not a bit. But hearing your Soulmate’s request? He almost let them drown under at least three cauldrons (If you are quick enough).

How dare they be so casual about it? Do they not know how much you suffer?

But, Deuce will respect your choice, even if it can be hurtful. Telling you that it is okay if you want to be back with them. He is on the verge of crying, a sad puppy.

Do you really mean that he is more important than the Soulbond?

Give you a tight hug, I mean, a really tight one. He thought that he was going to lose you. But he is happy now, with the brightest smile present on his face.

And now your ex-Soulmates is being the third wheel here.

[amatun28]

My Top best BTS members fic in my whole fanfic reading journey. ( ao3, YT, Wattpad, tumblr) [Part:01]

🌸These fanfics have my whole heart. The amount of happiness,emotion,nostalgia i felt its beyond unimaginable. I will cherise those fics until the end of my life. Thank you of all those writer who britten my day with their incredible talent and creativity. 🌸

🌺Long thread ( please read the review with patience)🌺

💐Author💐

1. Rafae's fiction on YT

My fanfic journey started with YT. I know many of us doesn't read yt fanfic, although we have solid reason not to do. Some of us also think yt fanfic means cringy type of fic. But trust me Rafae is a gem. Like she is truly exceptional. She has a strong aura that anyone can be captivated.

🍁Her stories🍁

◼Throne [ Taehyung fanfic ] by Rafae on YT

Genre: Royal au, arranged marriage, Angst (so much angst), smut, romance, fluff, happy ending. [completed]

Summary : A story of Royalty. A Periodic tale of three kingdoms. A tale of kings and Queens. " Throne" Is a story that had everything; Love, loyalty, friendship, betrayal, evilness, partition, pain, suffering, development, empowerment and devotion. A tale that takes the Romance to different level after passing through the stages of love. A tale of a Queen, more than a King. A tale of woman who proved that there is nothing stronger in this world than a broken woman. The Queen who teaches us to look in the eyes of demons and say Here I am standing, come and try to break me.

-Review:

[Must read] : The first thing I will say is it's not the typical type of fanfic people usually read, where the female lead is always weak or submitted to the male lead. This fanfic will change someone's perspective on women. And about the male lead, he is so caring and soft-spoken when it comes to his woman, sweet, with a strong moral compass and leadership like a full package. His character is so beautifully written that you will feel pain in your heart thinking, In real life, why do these kinds of men not exist? This story also has many different side characters, and each character has a different story, and each of them is so painfully beautiful. This series has 100 episodes. I had never seen any YT fanfic this long. Even the epi time is also very long, about 25-30 mins. Some of you will think that its 100-episode series might be boring, but trust me, not a single episode of this series is boring. Every episode is packed with suspense, emotion, and breathtaking plot twists that will leave you on the edge of your seat. And the best part? The storytelling is so vivid that it feels like watching a historical K-drama unfold right before your eyes. If you read the story, you will see the mention of 3 kingdoms that were actually from the Korean map that ruled ancient time Korea during the Three Kingdoms Period. So just go give it a chance; I must say you won't regret it. Also, the BGM of this series is like a full chef's kiss. 🤌

[Note: There are some grammatical mistakes in this series. The author had to upload one EP every Tuesday of the week. On YT after uploading the EP, she couldn't even edit the episode. Otherwise, all of the things are so perfect, so just dig in. ☺]

▪🍁[Jungkook fanfic]🍁

◼ [Reading between the lines] by anonymous on (ao3)

Genre: kinda enemies to lovers au,University au, slow burn, fluff, Smut, also jungkook is so sweet:( [completed ]

Summary: You're an art student beginning your final year at university, and the assigned partner for thesis project? Much to your dismay, it's Jeon Jungkook. You don't like him — he doesn't seem to try very hard, and besides, he's on the soccer team, and you don't really get along with athletes.

Thanks to a lack of available models and a shortage of studio space, you end up spending a large portion of your semester locked in a tiny closet with Jungkook, where you eventually discover he's nothing at all like you originally thought.

-Review:

Plz this is so good. Like so so so good.😭 you have to read this. The slow burn, the tension, the way their relationship grows. This kind of books will make your chest hurt (in a good way). And about Jungkook, i hopelessly inlove with his character. Also the pace of love-story was perfect like PERFECT. I will never forget the emotion and butterfly i felt reading this. Also the smut 👌💋. So just go and read this. A must read.

◼ Phycho by @moonchiiild_ on wattpad

Genre: Personality disorder au (reader), established relationship, romance, angst, happy ending [ completed]

Summary: You are wounded and broken. Laughing at scars was your habit, but tending your wounds was his speciality. Some may call Jeon Jungkook a perfect man to exist, but you knew your husband better than that; if you were his Bonnie, he is your Clyde. Psycho, maniac, insane. World called you many names, but your husband calls you his wife and stands beside you when no one dares. Jungkook is your possession, your medicine. The world may have rejected a bitch like you, but it takes only one person to snatch the monster out of you.

-Review:

Masterpiece the only word go to this series. This book is mix of suspense, romance. The first chapter of this book got me chokehold and there was no way escape of this. I just can't stop thinking about this. The characters are so good specially jungkook, this man is embodiment of all my fantasies here. After reading this story the only thing you will say that if i can't find any man like Jungkook in this book then i dont want any man. Like He is the STANDARD. Also there was so much angst on this book. But in the end its all worth it :(((

▪🍁[Taehyung fanfic]🍁

◼ Perpetual Rain by @NovainRose_ on wattpad

Genre: Slow brun, some fluff, angst, Smut, Reaper au, kinda time travel au?? [ completed ]

Summary: A troubled - soon to be - college girl is ravaged by uncontrollable hallucinations that she can't explain. Making an unexpected friendship with a stranger she met on the street but, he has secrets of his own. "Seriously, you've got me worried." His hands pressed into the tables brim, ready to get up at any second. "You barely even know me, why are you so worried?" You stared at him, irritated and confused. He was so persistent! "Is it bad for someone to care? Even if it's for a stranger?" Dark brown eyes narrowing and chest-nut hair cast to the side with a tilt of his head. "Just trust me." But, could she?

-Review:

I am whipped; I am just WHIPPED. It's such a beautifully written, deeply emotional journey filled with longing, love, and pain that lingers like the scent of the rain on a stormy night. This book still haunts me like a nightmare. The writing is so mesmerizing. Also, this book is kind of atmospheric. There is also a 2nd part of this book called" Timeless Snow". But this book is really a slow burn, like really, really slow burn. So don't get frustrated. Just go and read; trust me, you will love it. This book is one of my the must-read books.

This is my first time posting on tumblr. And these fanfics are very close to my heart. If you love these stories then plz show lot of love to the original author of these stories. At the end of the day, fanfic writers rely on positive reviews from readers. Its make the original author happy. Also, if you love the recommendation, then please tell me also.😌 So that maybe i will also make the part 2 of my favourite fanfics. 👀

[altaiiriss]

On my queerplatonic series

tw: this post revolves around the headcanon that dazai has ARFID (avoidant/restrictive food intake disorder). if that triggers you, do not read further. stay safe!

while outlining dazai's character for my queerplatonic series (link here) i decided that he struggles with food. it's not the "typical" eating disorder, though.

dazai isn't obsessed with his body shape, doesn't care about keeping track of the amount of calories he's ingested, and isn't terrified of gaining weight if he eats more.

his distorted relationship with food originates from his general lack of interest in things, which includes food as well.

a lot of people headcanon dazai as someone who doesn't eat much, and i agree with that. dazai is so dominated by conflicted feelings and his intrinsic "fear" of desiring anything for himself that he just... doesn't have much interest in food.

to him the whole act of eating is a bother, a mere bodily function he wishes to avoid. sometimes when he's lying on his futon his stomach would start rumbling, but dazai couldn't bring himself to get up and eat something. he has no appetite, what's the point?

he doesn't even get much joy from eating. he loves crab, sure, but that's more of a safe food than anything, a sort of parachute preventing him from free falling into the depths of starvation.

this disorder manifested in a particularly intense way during the mafia years. it wasn't a safe environment at all, and dazai's mental health got in the way of his eating habits.

chuuya would forcefully shove some food down his throat sometimes. he's naturally a caretaker after all, he used to steal food for his friends when he was the leader of the sheep—hell, he even gave his mediocre portion away if some other kid was still hungry. how could he ignore that dazai was basically starving himself?

hirotsu would give him some candies and chocolate bars. even kouyou, who never liked him that much, invited him to drink some tea with her and chuuya in the afternoon.

dazai was getting progressively skinnier with each passing day, and in return chuuya got progressively angrier at him because the brunet would lose focus and dissociate on the battlefield or, worse, collapse from starvation ("it's not like i care about you or something, okay!? i just want to complete this mission and go home." )

it didn't happen that much, but dazai actually did collapse sometimes and chuuya made sure to get insanely mad at him and remind him that he needs three fucking meals a day to survive. dazai would fight back and scream at him with all the strength in his lungs ("this is none of your business. who do you think you are? why don't you go take care of your friends' graves and leave me alone?" )

sooo yep, they used to fight about this a lot, but as long as dazai ate something chuuya was okay with putting up with his shitty demeanor. he didn't mind fighting every other day if it meant dazai actually put some nutrients in his body.

leaving the mafia and joining the agency (plus seeing a psychiatrist, courtesy of yosano's perseverance) did wonders to his mental health, and his food habits changed as well.

his brain is nowhere near 100% functional, let's be clear—he still gets bad days and relapses in his old harmful habits, and he even ghosted his therapist at some point because that shit scares him. but being in a happier and safer environment helps for sure.

sometimes his coworkers share their lunch with him and even though dazai doesn't eat much, they never pressure him to take more bites.

when they host small parties in their office, dazai never leaves without eating something. who would have thought kunikida was such a great cook?

and yosano's small cakes? they are delicious. the strawberry one is his favourite.

since their reunion—which led to their confession and their decision to cherish the non-romantic and non-sexual connection that binds their souls together—chuuya learnt to deal with this aspect of dazai properly.

back in the mafia he was just a kid who knew nothing (damn, he literally raised himself on the streets, and that's why he's always been open about being gay—he literally had no idea homophobia was a thing) and the way he approached dazai's struggles wasn't even remotely healthy.

but chuuya grew over the years. not physically (much to his dismay), but he joined online communities, learnt a lot about mental disorders and read about people's experiences.

when he stumbled across an article describing a situation similar to dazai's, everything made sense.

"perhaps you view eating as a chore because no one has ever cooked a meal for you with love?" his therapist had asked once, and dazai had laughed at her.

but when chuuya cooked him a meal while he was running a fever, something shifted.

he never believed in such things, yet he could swear he tasted chuuya's feelings as he ate the soup on his plate.

care. worry. adoration.

love, even?

this is hilarious.

another day chuuya taught him the basics of cooking ("if eating bores you to death, then try eating something you have made. it's satisfying, you know? because you made it with your own hands." )

dazai hates when chuuya is right.

aaaand here we are in the current timeline of my series.

dazai is far from being perfect but he's doing infinitely better. he still doesn't have a big appetite, but he eats way more than he used to. most importantly, food generally tastes nice on his tongue now.

he still relapses in his old mindset sometimes—it's okay, that's part of the healing process—but there are a lot of people who have his back now.

he's loved and cherished and doesn't have to face the world alone anymore.

[cam1lla]

Most Superbat Taylor Swift lyrics under the cut

Bruce’s POV:

“My only one/My smoking gun/My eclipsed sun/This has broken me down/My twisted knife/My sleepless night/My win-less fight/This has frozen my ground/Stood on the cliffside screaming, ‘Give me a reason’/Your faithless love's the only hoax I believe in/Don't want no other shade of blue but you” — Hoax

“All I know is this could either break my heart or bring it back to life/Got a feelin' your electric touch could fill this ghost town up with life/And I want you now, wanna need you forever/In the heat of your electric touch” — Electric Touch

“I keep these longings locked in lowercase inside a vault/Someone told me, ‘there’s no such thing as bad thoughts’/Only your actions talk/These fatal fantasies giving way to labored breath/Taking all of me/We've already done it in my head/If it's make believe, why does it feel like a vow we’ll both uphold somehow?” — Guilty As Sin?

“Two headlights shine through the sleepless night/And I will get you, and get you alone/Your name has echoed through my mind/And I just think you should, think you should know/That nothing safe is worth the drive” — Treacherous

“All the drama queens taking swings/All the jokers dressin' up as kings/They fade to nothin' when I look at him/And I know I make the same mistakes every time/Bridges burn, I never learn, at least I did one thing right/I did one thing right/I'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers/Trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right/Starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest night” — Call It What You Want

“My boy was a montage/A slow motion, love potion/Jumping off things in the ocean/I broke his heart 'cause he was nice/He was sunshine, I was midnight rain/He wanted it comfortable/I wanted that pain” — Midnight Rain

“Late in the night, the city's asleep/Your love is a secret I'm hoping, dreaming, dying to keep/Change my priorities/The taste of your lips is my idea of luxury” — King Of My Heart

“Morning, his place/Burnt toast, Sunday/You keep his shirt/He keeps his word/And for once, you let go/Of your fears and your ghosts/One step, not much/But it said enough/You kiss on sidewalks/You fight then you talk/One night he wakes/Strange look on his face/Pauses, then says/You're my best friend/And you knew what it was/He is in love” — You Are In Love

Clark’s POV:

“Wait for the signal and I’ll meet you after dark/Show me the places where the others gave you scars” — Willow

“Now I'm pacin' on shaky ground/Strike a match, then you blow it out/Oh no, oh no, it's not fair/'Cause you kiss mе and it stops time/And I'm yours, but you're not mine” — Say Don’t Go

“So dignified in your well-pressed suit/So strategized, all the eyes on you/Sashay away to your seat/It's the best seat, in the best room/Oh, he's so smug, Mr. "Always wins"/So far above me in every sense/So far above feeling anything” — Mr. Perfectly Fine

“I could see you in your suit and your necktie/Pass me a note saying, "Meet me tonight"/Then we kiss, and you know I won't ever tell, yeah/And I could see you being my addiction/You can see me as a secret mission” — I Can See You

“You never know what people have up their sleeves/Ghosts from your past gonna jump out at me/Lurking in the shadows with their lip gloss smiles/But I don't care 'cause right now you're mine” — Ours

“It was like an age-old classic the first time that you saw me/The story started when you said, "Hello"/In a crowded room a few short years ago/And sometimes there's no proof, you just know/You're always gonna be mine/I'm gonna love you when our hair is turnin' gray/We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we've made/And you'll say, ‘Oh my, we really were timeless’” — Timeless

“So when I touch down/Call the amateurs and/Cut 'em from the team/Ditch the clowns, get the crown/Baby I'm the one to beat/Cause the sign on your heart/Said it's still reserved for me/Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?” — The Alchemy

[laika-of-the-stars]

any time i think about respecting the dead i nearly bawl my eyes out because i wonder if anyone will respect me like i would respect them when im just bones. does that make sense

[iknityounot]

(Long post, sorry y'all)

A little more than two years ago now, my grandmother passed away. She and my grandpa had moved down to my home town a few years before so we could take care of them. I brought them groceries once a week, helped them write checks, fixed tvs, and found lost things. I was really close with my grandma.

In addition to her hilarious personality and dry wit, one of my favorite things about her was that she was a painter and a crafter like me! She used to crochet, and I took her to the craft store a couple of times so she could get more yarn and books on crochet. But her arthritis and the shaking in her hands kept getting worse, so she eventually had to stop.

She kept her most recent project, a granny square blanket, safely packed away in a plastic bin. She told all of us she was going to finish it one day.

Her hands never got better, and when she got sick, and we found out it was cancer, she rapidly deteriorated.

After she passed, I went to work helping my mom clean out my grandparents apartment so we could move my grandpa in with her. In our frantic cleaning, I found that bin again:

DOZENS of granny squares, dozens of half used skeins. I asked my mom what she wanted me to do with it, and she said she didn't care. I set it aside and later took it home.

Maybe a month later, that tumblr post about the Loose Ends Project was going around. It felt like a sign--I was never going to learn to crochet in order to finish my grandmother's blanket. But they might be able to help!

So I filled out the interest form. They got back to me SUPER quick. And maybe 2 weeks later, I was paired with volunteer in my state (only 2 hours away!) and the box of yarn, granny squares, and my grandmother's crochet hook were in the mail. That was at the end of January this year.

Over the next couple of months, my "finisher" emailed me regular updates on her progress, and asked me questions on my preferences for how she constructed the final blanket.

At the end of August, the blanket was done!

I had always intended the blanket to be a gift for my mother. So I cleaned it up, put it in the only bag I had big enough to fit it, and drove to my mom's. I gave the blanket to her and she was gobsmacked. I explained to her all about Loose Ends, and how someone volunteered to finish the piece for us. She was speechless. (I was quite pleased with this, because I am not the best at giving gifts, so this was a pretty exciting reaction!)

She said that it was the most thoughtful gift she had ever been given. She said "your grandma would love this". To which I replied, "yeah, I know she really wanted to finish it a couple of years ago". But that was when my mom dropped the bomb of a century on me--she told me that my grandma had started making those granny squares OVER 30 YEARS AGO. She had started the blanket when my grandpa was staying in the hospital, but that was back when my mom was younger than I am now! My grandma had packed them all away, planning on finishing it, when my grandpa was sent home from the hospital. Then it went from house to house, from condo in Chicago to their apartment in my hometown. All that time and my grandma had wanted to finish it, but couldn't. First because she was busy, then because she forgot how to do it, then because of her arthritis, and then because of the cancer. My mom said she had given up on expecting my grandma to finish it. 

She said I brought a piece of her childhood with her mom out of the past.

And really, all of this is to say, if you have seen or heard about the Loose Ends Project and have an uncompleted project or piece from a loved one who has passed away--these are your people. They were so kind and treated my project with such care. That box probably would have been found by my own grandkids one day if I hadn't heard about Loose Ends.

Five stars, absolutely worth it!

(From what I understand, you can sign up to volunteer too! If you have time to share, it might be worth checking out!)

[yourcutelittlegayfriend]

Imagine this

I've been reading some of this good fics about Yandere Batfam x neglected Reader and it got me thinking.

In some of this fic, usually it's Alfred that has given the reader some love and have not neglected the poor thing and I was like,

What if Reader is still neglected by the batfam but Alfred gave them enough love so much that reader just decided to stay just for Alfred and Reader really just treated Alfred as their real Father or Grandfather.

Where Reader just let go of any expectation from getting attention from the others and just strive to make Alfred proud and happy.

How the turns have table

Imagine reader walking pass the others not bothering to greet them as they look for Alfred instead and other stuff.

Dick seeing them practically skipping as they clutch on a medal hanging on their neck.

"Woah hey!-...um whatcha got-". He tries to say but doesn't get any answers because you were busy muttering to yourself 'I got first place! I have to show this to Alfred!' as you giggle while looking down at the medal and sprint away when you see a glimpse of the butler at the distance.

How instead of begging for the others to train you and become a vigilante, you ask Alfred to train you for self-defense (especially the stuff from his spy days).

Jason was the first to arrive at the manor when the team heard about some intruders getting in but halted when he sees you tying up the unconscious thugs on the floor.

"Hey Alfred is this right?". You didn't pay them any mind when some of them pile in as you pay attention to Alfred who was praising you and giving you more good defense tips while you and him pull the unconscious people out.

How you spend healthy family time with Alfred by helping him in cooking and chores that earns you some knowledge of the recipes from his famous dishes.

Tim was trying to grab a coffee when he sees you having a fun time with Alfred as you skillfully prepare for dinner and actually have good laughs with him.

"Okay, then after I fold this I should add some paprika, right?". You ask the butler as he smiles at you while sipping on the tea that you made for him.

"Yes, you're correct once again young miss/master". He said while humming after drinking the tea indicating how good it is.

Tim can practically see you lighting up as you cheered a 'yes!' from Alfred's confirmation.

How you revolved your time and passion to Alfred and actually deciding that only Alfred is the one you should waste your time on.

Damian wonders around the manor when you and him bump into one another.

"And what are YOU doing walking around MY Father's manor?". He asks while glaring at you.

you just sigh and turn while clutching away the art supplies you bought so you can paint in the garden with Alfred.

"Walking away from you that's what I'm doing". you tell him as you turn the other way not even bothering to argue with the boy anymore.

How you do well in your studies and aim to get a good degree/phd and act like a proper man/lady but not because you want to keep up to being a Wayne but to see Alfred's proud face as he watches you stand on the stage as you show him your diploma/degree certificate.

Bruce decided to take a walk from sitting down for too long when he walk pass a framed picture on the hallway near Alfred's room and double takes when he sees you and Alfred standing together with while you were wearing a toga and cap holding not just any graduation certificate but a college one as the both of you look so happy and him seeing Alfred having that loving and well pleased expression something he rarely sees from Alfred after becoming the crusading dark knight.

Looking at the date he couldn't believe that it has been more that a few years since the graduation happened.

All of the family who used to ignore you suddenly took a different turn and started to try and get your attention but they fail to see that you already moved on from them and only cared about the one person that have literally loved you from the beginning.

Bonus:

Imagine Thomas and Martha Wayne was mysteriously revived for a day and met the family but was deeply disappointed to the others and took a special liking to reader because Alfred has said many good things about them and them especially getting many good degrees something that the rest haven't gotten yet or never bothered to get (this is my hot take because my family are hellbent on us cousins to finish school) and you know for a fact that Alfred is really REALLY proud of the kid that he raised preciously

[yanderestarangel]

♡˚₊‧⁺˖ headcanons arcane — sevika x reader

— tw: soft!dom sevika, fluff, wife sevika, soft sex, praise kink, biting kink, hexstrap, fingering, dirty talk, marriage, mommykink, oral fixation, afab reader, eat out, dp, vibrators, breedkink, smut, anal, sub!reader, no pronouns used.

♡⁠┊Sevika is a caring companion, and even though her behavior is different when she is Silco's henchwoman, she has a soft spot for you and the life you two have built together. It wasn’t easy for her to accept her feelings for you. In the beginning, you two were just friends with benefits, and Sevika only enjoyed the sex you had. She would get bored and think. "At least I don't have to pay for someone else at the brothel." She knew it was a horrible thought and was ashamed of having such a selfish mentality. This would be a secret she would keep forever and take to the grave—she would never hurt you by admitting what she thought before developing feelings.

♡⁠┊ As time went on, she gave in to the feelings that persistently warmed her heart and soul. Your smile was the first thing to make her blush—and she hadn’t even thought that was possible. She had always been so controlled and objective that it genuinely shocked her to feel the overwhelming need to have you by her side 24/7. Soon, the word "passion" echoed through her mind like a haunting melody. She found you more addictive than the nicotine that coursed through the cigarettes she smoked.

♡⁠┊Before long, what started as "friends with benefits" naturally evolved into "lovers."

♡⁠┊There was a Sevika before you and a Sevika after you. She had never been the kind of woman who worried about getting home or keeping track of dates. Her life revolved around late nights in the casino’s accounting department, playing poker, grabbing meals from nearby vendors, and caring little about commitments that didn’t involve Silco.

♡⁠┊But after you came into her life, she started making an effort to be an acceptable girlfriend. At first, the change in routine felt strange to her. The loud music she once thrived on was replaced by soft conversations with you about each other's day, accompanied by chaste smiles. She even found herself helping you in the kitchen—passing ingredients and stealing glances at you, looking so adorably domestic to her. Adorable as hell, she’d think, trying to hide the silly smile that crept onto her lips as you continued chatting about your day while she was at work.

♡⁠┊Everyone noticed how much the "big mama" had changed. She was still the tough, no-nonsense woman everyone knew, but there was a new spark to her—a contentment, as if she were finally 100% happy with herself. She began taking better care of herself, and though she wouldn’t admit it outright, she loved when you noticed the little changes she made. A new hairstyle, a fresh haircut, a different lipstick or gloss, or even a change in the eyeshadow she wore—your compliments made her day. "Do you like it? Thank you... I decided to look prettier for you, baby." she’d say with a soft smile, handing you a bouquet of your favorite roses before pulling you into a tight hug. She’d carry you inside, ready to spend hours talking with you, only for the evening to melt into passionate kisses on the couch.

♡⁠┊Sevika expresses her love through acts of service and heartfelt compliments. She’ll do anything to make you comfortable. Though she never imagined sharing her home with anyone, she started taking better care of the space for your sake. When you can’t handle the household chores, she steps in without hesitation—bringing you breakfast in bed and lingering for a moment to make sure you’re okay—"Let me know if you need anything; I’ll come running." she says protective, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead and giving you one last look before leaving the house. Her presence is felt throughout the streets in her actions and reputation, but no matter where she goes, her mind always drifts back to you.

♡⁠┊The marriage proposal came naturally to Sevika. You two had been living together for a while, and she knew without a doubt that you were her great love. At forty, she had no patience for games anymore—it was all or nothing. You were lying in bed when the moment came. "We've been together for a while, right? How about we make things official? Me, you, a nice wedding..." she began, her words a little hesitant as she reached into the drawer with her mechanical arm, pulling out a beautiful red velvet box. She opened it quickly, revealing two rose gold rings. She had carefully chosen a design that suited both of you, seeking help to find the perfect pair. In the end, the cost didn’t matter—it was worth every penny. "You know I love you more than anything. Will you marry me, angel face?" Sevika finally asked, her voice filled with sincerity as she held the ring engraved with her name and gently slipped it onto your finger. It was a simple proposal, shared in the intimacy of your bedroom on an ordinary weekday. Yet, for Sevika, it became an extraordinary moment—a day that would forever hold a sweet place in her heart, the day you said yes and accepted her as your wife.

♡⁠┊Your wedding was simple, just as Sevika had suggested. Money was tight, so she proposed a civil ceremony at the registry office, followed by a quiet picnic in the park where you could spend the day together. She wore a black suit, sharp yet understated, and happily let you make flower crowns for both of you to wear. Lying with her head resting on your thighs, she spoke softly about your future plans, weaving dreams of the life you’d build together. She promised that once your financial situation improved, she’d throw you a grand ceremony—regardless of whether you told her it wasn’t necessary.

♡⁠┊ "Don’t talk nonsense, sweetie. Just wait until I have some good money, okay? Mama's here will give you everything you deserve. Those weddings for rich people are really expensive." she’d say with determination, her voice firm yet tender. As you played with her hair, she smoked leisurely, her gaze alternating between the sky and you. "Just wait for the money to come in, okay? I promise things will get better for us, one day..." she murmured, exhaling smoke through her nose. Sevika didn’t know exactly when things would change for the better, but she held tightly to hope and faith. Until then, she gave you all the love and support she had, pure and unwavering. For her, it wasn’t about the money—it was about showing you, in every way she could, just how much you meant to her.

♡⁠┊And this romanticism transforms into touches of heat on your honeymoon. Sevika adores you as if you were a deity, laying you down on the bed and kissing every inch of your skin. She gently removes the clothes you wore at the wedding, whispering sweet words that send shivers through both of you: "I've waited so long for this, honey... I love you so much it hurts." She kisses your belly, trailing down to your intimacy, leaving soft kisses over your still-clothed pussy. Pushing aside the already damp fabric, she presses her nose against your clit.

♡⁠┊"I will always adore you. You are my world, my most precious thing in this life..." Her green eyes shine as they meet yours, and she carefully removes your panties, returning to kiss the inside of your thighs. Finally, her full lips meet your cunt, a hoarse grunt escaping her as she closes her eyes, savoring your taste. It doesn’t take long for her to lose herself in you, a comfortable heat blooming within her as you pull her hair and rub your hips against her face. Both of her hands hold you firmly in place while the older woman pushes her tongue into your hole, fucking you slowly and savoring every moment of your essence.

♡⁠┊She would slide two fingers inside you, making you feel every inch as they filled and caressed your spongy walls, drawing you tighter around her touch. "Do you want a third finger, darling? Are you that needy, huh? You're making me so proud... Taking me so well." she whispers with a teasing grin. When she adds a third finger, the sensation is overwhelming—you've never felt so full in your entire life. Her tongue lavishes attention on every inch of your bundle of nerves, her lips and tongue working in harmony to send waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Your wife becomes utterly pussy drunk, grunting in excitement as she urges you to give her more of your juices, moaning for you like it’s her greatest pleasure. She doesn’t stop until she makes you squirt, her relentless mouth and fingers ensuring her face is soaked. "Fuck... Holy hell, my angel. You should see your face right now, you know?" she murmurs with satisfaction, wiping some of your wetness from her face with the back of her hand. Her fingers drip with your essence, the sight so erotic it leaves her wet and desperate to make you cum over and over, determined to keep you crying out for her all night long.

♡⁠┊She quickly searches for the strap-on she bought especially for that night—one designed with two attachments for double penetration. The second dildo was crafted for anal play, a vibrating device made of the same material as her mechanical arm. Sevika chose this because she didn’t want to use her arm directly on you, knowing its hard, metallic structure might hurt you. Instead, she always finds creative ways to surprise you, just like tonight.

Carefully, she prepares your body. Her skilled fingers, warm tongue, and plenty of lubricant ensure that both your holes are ready for her. Once you’re comfortable, she lines up the dual-function strap-on, slowly impaling you with precision and care. Her hips move in tandem with the vibrations from the anal dildo, creating an overwhelming wave of pleasure you’ve never felt before.

"Shit, baby, look at this—wet as fuck... You're so greedy, always asking for more. My fuck toy holes are never satisfied, huh?" she teases, her voice low and dripping with desire. She slides two fingers into your mouth, coaxing you to suck on them while she fucks you slowly, savoring every moment. Sevika holds back her own orgasm, her pussy aching and dripping between her muscular thighs as she watches you, beautifully open and writhing for her. Her restraint only heightens her desire, every movement and sound you make driving her wild as she focuses on bringing you to heights of unimaginable ecstasy.

♡⁠┊Sevika activated the function to release a hot liquid from the strap-on, similar to semen. It was a type of hot, translucent lubricant designed to stimulate you and feed her fantasies of shaping your body. "That's it... love, I want to get pregnant so much, you know? You're going to look so beautiful full of my cock. Moan for mommy, moan loudly." she moaned hoarsely, biting your shoulder and making you bite hers too. It was a fair exchange; you would mark her, and she would do the same. She slapped you hard on the ass, moving her hips back and forth quickly while holding your neck and joining your lips in a kiss that mixed your moans. Her breasts pressed against yours, making both your nipples hard as she went harder, finally making you squeeze the silicone cock as the hot artificial liquid rewarded you, leaking from your holes and leaving you dizzy with the specially made substance. "I love you so much... you are mine forever..." Sevika gasped, resting her head on your breasts, kissing the soft flesh and biting gently as she pulled out of you.

♡⁠┊After the mess, she will clean you up and give you a bath, along with herself, not letting you fall due to your legs being weak from the orgasm. She dresses you in one of her loose blouses and puts clean sheets on the bed, placing you to lie in her strong arms, giving you a kiss on the forehead, sighing, also tired, but satisfied. "Go to sleep, so when you wake up, I'll still be here to enjoy our honeymoon." Sevika promises, calming you down as she waits for you to fall asleep so she can rest peacefully. It was a small new beginning among so many others, but she swore to herself to always make you happy, and the moon was the witness to that, bathing the two of you in silver on that night of peace and love—everything you needed, everything she needed, and now, there was you."

★ ! yanderestarangel©

[luveline]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

part one | chapter list 

You find yourself drawn into Remus’ life after an awful night you can’t remember. He does his best to hold onto you. [10k]

cw: heavy themes, implied sexual assault of the reader [with no graphic scenes but it’s a continuous theme, so please be careful when reading], pregnancy, eventual friends to lovers, friendships, hurt/comfort, james makes a lot of soup, found family

𖦹

The pharmacy on Wilmand Street is always deathly quiet. The boy behind the counter reads and occasionally picks up the phone to put it back down, his hair in his eyes, a waxiness to his pale skin that never fails to perturb. 

Your shoes creak over the hardwood floor. He’s noticed your entry, signalled by a golden bell above the door and your muffled panting, but he hasn’t looked up. 

Your eyes slide past pads, nighttime, ultra-long panty liners, searching with a poorly restrained desperation for something in particular. 

The phone rings —dark-haired boy picks it up and puts it back down again as you recalled, silencing the ring. You watch him from over your shoulder and he looks up from his book to stare. 

“Pregnancy tests?” you ask.

His expression doesn’t change as he pulls a drawer open behind the desk with a metallic clink. “What kind?” 

“The most reliable. Please.” 

He gives a nod, black curl bobbing under his chin. He grabs a blue card box and places it on the counter. “Sixteen fifty.” 

You open your purse before you’ve reached him, extracting the change exactly and tipping it next to his book. “Thank you.” 

“Are you alright?” 

Your heart squeezes in your chest like a tightening fist. “Why?” 

“I have to ask. I’m a mandated reporter.” 

“I’m not a child.” 

He levels your look with his own. “You don’t have to answer. I’m only asking because you look upset. Are you alright?” 

You don’t think you’ve ever heard him say more than three words at a time. His voice is reminiscent of someone else’s, half-remembered. You want to ask him, then. The questions you’ve had since it happened. Why does it hurt so badly, still? But the boy, while seemingly well-intentioned, isn’t one you trust to care nor keep it to himself. 

“Fine,” you reply, pressing the blue-boxed test into your pocket, pulling the hood of your coat up to brace against the December rain. You’re fine. 

The door opens before you can get to it, another lovely dark-haired boy letting himself inside. His stare is blank as the one at the desk’s is, but you smile on instinct and he smiles back warmly after a moment, holding the door for you to leave. 

“Okay, Reg?” you hear him ask as you pass.

“Close the door,” Reg says. “You’re letting in the cold.” 

—

It’s even colder the next time you go. You throw on another hoodie and wrap a scarf tightly around your neck, face ducked, nose tickled by flyaway fibres. The walk to Wilmand Street takes seventeen long minutes where your hands hurt, then shake, chapped by hateful winds. 

The pharmacy’s newspapered window comes into view. A poster for the local pub leaks ink on the outside, wet by the rain, its font blooming like fungus across purple paper. Live music event: December 31st. 

The dark-haired boy —Reg?— is behind the counter again. The first one. Are you alright? boy. He looks twenty so or near that, but there’s something wilfully young about the skin under his eyes, despite a more haggard pinch to his brow. You were hoping it would be the second one, or the sandy-haired boy who mans the till in the very early mornings. He has a more natural smile than the other two. Perhaps not more authentic, but quicker to perk up when you slink in for whatever before work, Mondays and Fridays if he’s there. 

Reg doesn’t lift his head. You push yourself toward the back of the pharmacy. It’s a small shop slotted between two others, one wall touched from the next in thirty seconds should you walk it. It makes pretending you’re there for other things useless and embarrassing, but you do it anyway. Another test won’t change what you wanted the test to say, but you can’t take one single test and trust it was right. 

“Reliable?” Reg asks when you finally approach. 

“Yeah. And the five strip box, too, if you have it.” 

Reg takes them from the drawer and adds their prices seemingly in his head. “Eighteen eighty-nine.” 

You pass him a twenty pound note and wait for your change, not bothered that he counts it slowly, or that he puts it down flat on the counter away from your outstretched hand. “Thanks,” you murmur. 

He noticeably bites his tongue. 

“I want to be sure, is all,” you say. 

“If you go to the doctor’s, they do it for free. And it has a ninety nine percent rate of accuracy.” 

You hold the tests to your stomach. “I’m not… really sure what I’d want them to tell me, right now.” 

“They’d tell you the truth, at least.” Reg seems to decide this line of conversation isn’t one he wants to continue, and he lets his mouth flatten into a thin, white line. You get the sense though that he isn’t done talking, and are rewarded for your patience with an inkling of an almost-smile. “Please know that I’m bound by duty of care while I work here, so if you are concerned about something, I can listen and offer advice. And if you don’t want to tell me private information, my uncle is the acting pharmacist, and he is more strictly bound by patient confidentiality law.” He looks you in the eye. “You’re only as alone as you allow yourself to be.” 

“Who says that?” you ask, poked by the way he lays it out. 

Reg doesn’t like your question and doesn’t answer. He picks up his book, murmuring, “I hope they give you the result you want.” 

A different dark-haired boy is standing outside of the pharmacy when you leave. With a nice nose, eyes like a puppy, he’s handsome but hidden behind black frames. He stands from his car where he’d been leaning when the door swings out, sits back again when he realises you’re not who he’s looking for. “Sorry, lovely,” he says, pulling at a loosely-knotted tie. “I thought you were someone else.” 

“Sorry,” you say back, holding the tests to your chest. 

Your hand covers the boxes. His eyes flicker down to them regardless. You wait for disdain or embarrassment but see neither. Really, the only thing this new boy wears is pleasantness. 

“Don’t stay out too long, will you?” he asks, smiling genially, “You’ll freeze.” 

“I’m–” You clear your throat, caught off guard to have a stranger care about you so openly. No reluctance to his well wishes, and no strings. “Sorry– I’m going home now. I won’t stay out.” 

“Good, shortcake. Have a good night.” 

You should say you too. The wind chases you back to your flat, where you head for the bathroom, and, despite living alone, lock the door. 

—

You take your pregnancy test and sit on the floor, too weak-legged to stand at the sink, waiting for two pink lines. 

Sure enough. Control, result. One solid pink line, and one much lighter. It doesn’t matter —a positive is a positive, no matter how weak. The strip tests say the same thing. 

In TV and movies, people always paint the test as the ultimate moment. As though the result is the result, and that everything after is fixed, but the result now is only a signifier for another decision to be made: will you keep your baby, or foetus? Do you feel as though it is a baby, or a foetus, or both? Is it welcome, or a foreign object? There is no right or wrong answer, only how you feel. 

The migraine you get then is debilitating. Like toothache in every tooth, pain behind your eyes half-psychosomatic, half physiological stress. You’re not sure how long you’re in the bathroom holding your forehead, but it’s dark when you manage to stand again, and the tests have only gotten more obviously positive. You throw them all in the bin. 

—

The third day you go back to Wilmand Street pharmacy, the desk is manned by your unfamiliar, smiling boy. He looks up when the door opens, his eyes browned honey set in a face that recently saw the sun, but not too much of it. Kissed by it. His cheeks are pinked. He must be the first person who’s worked here to bother turning on the heating. 

“Morning,” he says.

“Morning,” you say back. Voice croaky, you remember to be polite. “You okay?” 

“I’m great, lovely, thank you. How are you?” He gives a nod toward the street. “It’s so cold out, are you gonna be warm enough in your jumper?” 

You find yourself struck as you were the day before, so startled by genuine kindness that you can hardly work your mouth. “I’m okay. I’m going right back home after this.” 

“Aw, good.” 

You nod. What are you here for today? Not another test. You aren’t stupid enough to believe a third round will give you a different verdict, but you‘d felt an urgent need to move. 

You grab a rounded basket from near the door and make your way to the haircare. There’s a handful of shampoos to choose from. You take the usual. Beneath them are baby shampoos and soaps. On a whim you pick one up, the words Tear and fragrance free stuck like a bad swallow at the back of your throat. 

Babies need so many things. At the supermarket they have these great walls of baby food and it’s expensive enough to take your eye out every time. A quarter of an hours wage for every organic, soft meal, and sure, they don’t need organic, vegetables are organic intrinsically, whatever, but if you don’t buy organic pre-made meals you have to make the baby food yourself, how long does that take? You put the baby shampoo down and turn to the conditioners. 

Unhappy, you scour them for nothing and turn on the spot. Why is Dr. Black never here? How are you supposed to ask him your questions if he doesn’t show up to work? 

You’ll have to ask the brown-haired boy. Nice eyes, nice smile. He probably won’t judge you, at least not out loud. 

He stands up from his rickety chair, soft leather seat worn and creaking as he pushes it away. “Yeah?” he asks. 

“Do you have to do that patient-confidentiality thing?” 

He smiles rather gently. “I do. A condition of my employment is to protect patient information. Legally, I can’t share private or sensitive information about you to anyone else in the world, unless I believe you’re in proper danger.” He holds his hands behind his back. “Is there something you wanted to ask me?” 

Wind roars outside. Your eyes start to the door. 

“There’s a private room in the back,” he adds. 

“I don’t want to waste your time.” 

“It’s not wasted. Even if I weren’t legally obligated to keep whatever secrets you may have, I’m worried you look a bit poorly.”

He speaks oddly. Or not odd, but different to any of the other men you’ve met. It’s friendly, and yet somehow he’s quiet, too. His interest feels real, so you cross the room to the desk and put your basket on your shoes. 

You try to find a way to say it. “I know you’re not a doctor.” 

“No, I’m an apprentice pharmacist.” 

“Right. I know I should go to the doctor, and not you.” 

“That depends. We’re here to help. Doesn’t matter if you should go somewhere, you can ask me first.” 

You struggle. He waits. His hands lay steady on the edge of the desk, his face nearly blank besides a hint of warmth.  

“Is it alright if it’s a question about, um, sex?” 

He nods emphatically. “Of course that’s alright. I can’t promise I’ll know the answer, but you’re welcome to ask me anything and I can always get back to you if you’re not willing to ask someone else.” His smile turns wry. “I know it’s uncomfortable, but it’s only sex. I don’t mind.” 

“I just…” You hold your hands together. “I wanted to know, if pain after… if it’s supposed to hurt so much after.” 

His wry smile is quickly subdued, though he remains friendly looking. “It depends,” he says, measured, “on a few things. You probably know that the first time you have sex can be painful because of the initial perforation of the hymen, but usually sex isn’t supposed to be painful at all.” 

“At all.” 

“No. If sex hurts, it’s likely from a lack of preparation, bruising of the cervix, or it could be a condition called vaginismus. That’s where your muscles tighten suddenly when you attempt penetration. Having sex with vaginismus can be extremely painful.” 

Something on his chest catches the light. A name tag. 

He follows your gaze. “Oh,” he says. “I’m Remus. Sorry, it might’ve been nicer for you to know that before I started talking.” 

Remus… You shake your head at him. “Um… Remus… Well, I’m not really sure what happened.” 

“Right.” 

“I wasn’t–” Your heart jumps before you can confess, horrible secret stuck to the roof of your mouth. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, “are you sure you don’t want to go sit down in the quiet room with me? I can make you a cup of tea.” 

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

“I have night time tea. Is that alright?” 

“The shop?” 

“It’s okay, I’ll ask Sirius to come down. You really aren’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I feel like I shouldn't ask you.” 

“That’s a consequence of our great British society,” he says, lightly teasing as he lifts the counter to come from behind it and presses a small red button on an intercom box by the inside door. It’s an attempt to make you feel better, and it nearly works. “You feel embarrassed about something you have no reason to feel embarrassed of. Everybody has sex, and everybody has bad sex, sometimes, and needs advice.” 

The intercom crackles before you can speak. “Moony?” a voice asks. 

“Sirius, I have someone who needs to talk to me. You’ll have to come on the till for a bit.” 

“Kay. Down now.” 

Remus smiles. “That’s about as obliging as he gets.” 

“Sirius, is he the– is he the one who reads?” 

“Not often. You’re thinking of Regulus, his brother.” 

Regulus, of course. “They look so similar.” 

“They do.” He gestures for you to stand beside him as the inside door swings open, unveiling one of those dark-haired brother’s, the taller of the two. 

“Oh, hi,” Sirius says, wet hair on his shoulders, his t-shirt sodden at the front like he’d swept it back, “okay? There’s biscuits in the left cupboard, Moons.” 

Remus, Moons, Moony, holds the door back and lets you inside. 

The walk to the quiet room is strange. Sitting down at the table with him as he passes you a box of biscuits, kettle boiling, he doesn’t put you on ends, but it doesn’t feel good. You slip your hand under your t-shirt where he can’t see and feel the hot stretch of your stomach for something that isn’t there. 

“So,” he says, grimacing, “I’m going to ask you some precursory questions. You don’t have to answer any of them if you don’t want to.” 

“Okay.” 

“Are you in any active danger?” 

You shake your head slowly. “None.” 

“Is someone close to you hurting you?” 

“No.” 

“Are you alright?” 

You twist your hands together tightly. “I don’t think so.” 

“No?” He slips his chair closer to your own. “Are you hurt now?” 

You look down at your lap. This is awful. This is why you didn’t want to go to see your doctor. “I don’t know. I’m not hurt, but it does hurt. I move and it feels like something sharp is digging into me.” 

“I see.” He frowns. “This can happen sometimes with penetration. It’s like I said before, if your body isn’t, you know, prepared? If you aren’t using lubrication, if you aren’t relaxed, it can be as simple as friction having hurt you, but it’s possible you’ve got cervical bruising, or an issue with your pelvic floor. It could be that you have a UTI. If we go through a couple of questions together I might be able to suggest a solution, but I have to tell you to see your doctor if you can. Alright? Pain after sex can be normal, but it doesn’t have to be. When we go back out, I’ll give you some paracetamol as well.” 

He looks as though he might have something else to say, but he stops when you open your mouth. “I don’t know what happened.” 

Remus frowns again. “Right.” 

The cellophane on the biscuits is shining under the light. 

“I don’t really know what to do.” 

“It’s a stabbing pain?” His frown gets impossibly deeper. “I have some ibuprofen. Off the record, you can have some of that with your tea. Here.” He procures a blister pack from his pocket and hands it to you, jumping up for the kettle, carrying it back to your mugs to set with the pint of milk. “It will probably go away soon, lovely, I would try not to worry, but it’s good to keep an eye on it too, and to book with the doctors if it gets worse. There are so many things that can go wrong in the body, but we’re also such good self-healers, it’s hard to know what to do.” 

“It’s… something else, too.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I was wondering if the pain is maybe because I…” 

Your face goes hot as coal embers, a furious sweat on the back of your neck. Remus doesn’t prod. He pours water into your mug until it’s a little over half full, the tea bag at the bottom staining it sepia. 

“I think I’m pregnant,” you say, not sure why it hurts to say so much. 

“Right.”

“Do you think it hurts because of that?” 

Remus bites his lip as he pours his own mug of tea. He’s looking at you as he puts the kettle down. “No, I wouldn’t think so, but it’s not an impossibility. How pregnant were you thinking?” 

“It was two weeks ago, so… so however long it takes to get pregnant.”

He looks alarmed, then. “Lovely, that was the last time you had sex?” 

“Yeah.”

“And it still hurts now?” 

“Only sometimes,” you say nervously. 

He ignores his steaming tea. “Right. Well, I think I need to advise you to make an emergency appointment today. I can make it with you. You shouldn’t still be hurting after two weeks, pregnant or not. Ectopic pregnancies don’t tend to hurt until further along, so…” Remus slows, looking at you with that too-kind frown, brown eyes darker back here behind the fog curls of his tea.

You feel caught on something. 

“I wasn’t awake,” you say quietly. “Just woke up hurting. I guessed what happened, ‘n now I’m pregnant. It could only have been...” You shrug it off, even as heat blooms behind your eyes, nose already hot and sniffly. 

“You were assaulted.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

Remus seems to freeze up. “I’m sorry.” He takes a few seconds, and then he meets your eyes. “I can’t imagine how scary that must have been, and how scary it still is.” 

Your eyes line with tears. “I mean, it’s less scary now.” First tear tips forward as your voice falls to pieces. “I just don’t know what to do. Every day I’ve come here this week I’ve tried to ask about it, because I saw that poster, if I’m hurt then I can– then I can come to the pharmacy, but I’m not hurt, I’m fine now.” 

“Oh,” he says gently, pushing his chair over a little to bring himself closer, his hand coming to rest on your hunched shoulder, “even if you weren’t in any pain at all, you’re more than welcome to come here and speak to us, to me. This residual pain, I imagine you must’ve been quite injured when it happened. You didn’t have any help at all?” 

“I didn’t think there’s anything they could do.” 

“That’s okay, it’s not your fault,” he says, rubbing your shoulder kindly. “I just want to know as much of the details as you feel alright giving me, so we can move forward in the best way possible.” His hand slides across your back, nearly hugging. “I’m sorry. Really. And I’m sorry for talking so much about ‘bad sex’, I didn’t realise what you were telling me.” 

“I’m sorry for telling you.” 

“What?” he asks, a soft incredulity to him, “You have nothing to be sorry for. You can tell as many or as few people as you like, but I’m extremely glad to be told, because no one should ever have to face this sort of thing alone, should they?” He rubs your back when you nod, again when you sniffle. “Alright. It’s alright. You’re okay.” 

You don’t cry as much as you worry you might under a soft touch. The memory of waking up paralyses you for a bit, that confusion, the pain, the bruise across your neck. All of it makes you feel sick, but Remus shushes you under his breath, not to really shush you, but to calm you down. 

“I’m okay,” you say, shamed. 

“Try and drink some of this tea. Can I leave you alone for a minute?” 

“Oh, uh– yeah, of course. I’m fine.” 

His hand lingers between your shoulders. “Just for a minute, I’m going to find some bits for you–”

“I don’t need anything–”

“No, no, it’s okay, it’s just stuff I have to give you, and some things you might need.” Remus’ hand traces carefully to the front of your shoulder. He meets your eyes, nothing but compassion in the line of his mouth. “Okay?”

You say okay. Remus uses the door you came in through to head back out onto the pharmacy’s shop floor, letting it shut quietly behind him. You press your hand to your teeth. 

—

To Remus’ credit, he apologises for both pamphlets. Abortion Explained. What to expect when you’re expecting. “For you to know your options,” he’d said. “Whatever you decide, it’s your decision.” 

He can’t know you’ll spend a week pouring over them all, that you’ll worry at the corner of the STD clinic card, or that you’ll shove the RapeCrisis one down the side of your bed, desperate to throw it out, but terrified you’ll need it, too. 

And some of the stuff he gives you. You don’t even know what to do with it. Painkillers, lavender oil, discreet pads for incontinence. You’d tried to pay and he’d touched the back of your hand without explanation. “No, it’s okay,” he’d said. Nothing else. 

You spend days again wrapped in your own nausea, until Thursday evening, when you make your way to Community Support. 

You honestly weren’t considering it when Remus first gave you the card, but he said his friend worked there, “My best friend, James,” he corrected, ”and his wife, Lily, too. She talks to people about all kinds of things. I just wonder if you might feel happier talking about it with a woman.” 

Which was a nice sentiment, and possibly true, though Remus had been the first person you told. To be met with his sympathy in such a boundless capacity made it easier. Made you think, Maybe I’m not stupid for hating that it happened. 

“I’m here every Monday, Thursday, Saturday and Sunday,” he‘d said when you made up a lie about needing to leave, scared of overstaying, “seven ‘til three, but you can ask for me if you ever want to. Sirius usually knows where I am.” 

And you had wanted to, but you knew you couldn’t. Being so desperately alone that you craved the comfort of a stranger’s hand is fine, but it didn’t feel okay to hold him hostage like that. Of course he feels sorry for you, of course he wants to make you feel better, how heartless would he look otherwise?

You’d chide yourself for thinking cynically about someone who’d only ever been nice if it would make a difference. Lonely, wrecked, you end up at the Community Support Group at the local leisure centre, wavering behind the swing doors. 

A face appears on the other side of the door. Deep skin, eyes like cherry pits and lips painted a cheery red, a woman smiles at you and pulls it open. 

“Hi! Are you here for the support group?” 

“Uh– Yeh–” You swallow roughly. “Yes. Is that here?” 

“That’s here.” She puts a thumb through the belt loop on her jeans. “Why don’t you come inside?” 

You take a tentative step.

“I’m Mary,” she says. 

“I don’t have to sign anything, right?” you ask. 

Mary leads you into the room without stopping. “This is off the books only. Do you want some tea or coffee?” 

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

“Decaf?” 

“Can I have water?” 

Mary has a good smile. Like she knows you, like you’re already friends. She cups your shoulder and guides you to the refreshment table, an impressive splendor of coffee, tea, individually wrapped biscuits, and sandwiches. There’s a box of protein bars with a handwritten red felt note that says: Take me home if you want to! 

“Aren’t hungry are you?” Mary asks. 

“Not really.” 

She ducks down at the table and pushes aside tablecloth to grab a crate of water from underneath.

“You haven’t been here before, then?” Mary asks as she stands. “I remember most faces, I don’t think I’ve seen you here.” 

“No, I’ve never… um, someone at the pharmacy told me I can come,” you say tightly. 

“Oh, you can! Of course you can. I wondered if you were new, that’s all.” She presses a bottle of water into your hands. You look down at her fingers, confused at their odd texture, your neck snapping up once you realise what you’re doing.

Mary has scars all over her hands, her wrists, and you’d been gawking at them by mistake. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

“For what? Do you want me to stay? Or would you rather be by yourself?” 

“We don’t sit in a circle, do we?” 

Mary laughs lightly. “No, no circle yet, you can leave if you don’t wanna stay for the group talking therapy. For the first hour people just say hello to one another. There are a ton of counsellors here, okay? I’m just gonna wander, but if you want to talk to me, come and find me, yeah?” 

“Okay, thanks. Thank you.” 

“You’re welcome, hun.” She smiles at you, a little softer than before. “You can sit down if it makes you feel less awkward, but be warned, the sofas are James’ territory. He loves to talk.” 

Don’t wanna get stuck with James, you think. Though really, you’re here to talk. Or to turn around and go home with a pocket full of protein bars. 

The community room is an emptied dance hall that’s been made nice. There are big boards of fliers, of last year’s trampolining club, and another of the Community Support Christmas club, whatever that had been. It looked busier then than it does tonight —there are a ton of sunny looking counsellors dotted around the room and talking in triangles, half as many people like you. 

Someone random catches your eyes and you fluster, making your way to the terracotta sofas in the corner of the room on impulse. A man sits with an arm across his eyes, glasses on his chest, looking so sorrily tired for a second that you forget you’d come looking for help of your own. 

“Are you okay?” you ask, stilted. James’ territory, and you’d walked straight in. 

The man sits up starkly. He looks right at you, but you don’t recognise him until he puts on his glasses. It’s one of those pharmacy men. 

No, it’s not, you’d just seen him outside. 

“Hello,” he says, sliding his glasses up a strong-bridged nose. “I’m okay, I’m just resting my eyes,” —he laughs— “you alright?” You nod. “Yeah? Here for the support club? Or the sandwiches?” 

“I–” Will you stammer every time someone asks you about it? “One of the– the pharmacy, one of the pharmacists told me to come.” 

“That’s good,” he says earnestly. “I like those guys. Did you want a sandwich or something? I must’ve made a hundred. My hand still aches from the butter knife.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay. Well, did you want to sit down? I promise I won’t hold you hostage or anything.” 

What am I doing? you think miserably, taking a seat in the sofa adjacent to his. 

He crosses one leg over the other. “Please don’t look so upset. I swear I genuinely won’t make you talk. I’m just here for the biscuits and lovely Lily, I promise. And lovelier Remus–” He laughs to himself. 

“You’re James?” you ask. 

“The last time I checked.”

“Remus– he mentioned you’d be here. I forgot.” 

James only smiles. “He’s brilliant, isn’t he?” he asks, wriggling in his seat to procure one of those biscuit packets from his back pocket. 

“He said that I might like talking to Lily.” 

It feels weird calling her by her first name without knowing her, but James agrees, “I’ll introduce you when she gets here, if that’s what you want.” 

“I just… I don’t know.” 

“She’s just as nice as Remus is. Remus was nice to you, wasn’t he?” 

You nod and look down at your clenched hands. “Yeah. He was nice to me.” 

“That’s good.” 

A tepid silence pervades for a moment. 

“Do you want a biscuit or something? Or we have noodles and soup and stuff in the storage room, I’m happy to make you something warm if you want that.” 

“You guys are like a restaurant,” you say, still not willing to look at him. 

“It’s nice to have options.” 

You nod hurriedly, sick to your stomach all over again. Options. Decisions. 

Somewhere in the room, they turn on a radio. Shoes squeak on the waxed floor, a boy laughs like he’s being tickled. It was a mistake to come tonight. You desperately want someone to hug you and you know it’s too much to ask for, staggering to your feet with a headrush to be blinked back. 

“You okay?” James asks.

“Yeah. Um, where’s the toilet?” 

“Back out of the double doors, they’re right in front of you, okay? Straight in front and then to the left, you can’t miss them.” 

“Okay.”

“Wait, Y/N?” he says. 

You shoot him a look that betrays your surprise. 

“Sorry, Remus told me to keep a look out for you. I just wanted to say, I know this is different, and it’s weird, I get that, and I have no idea why you’re here tonight, but I promised Remus I wouldn’t upset you, and I think I already have.”

“He didn’t tell you why I’m here?” 

“Of course not.” James blows a breath that makes his hair fly away from his face in a wave. “It’s none of my business why you’re here. My job is to make sandwiches. I mean, some people come here just for the sandwiches or the warm room, and that’s fine.” 

“The sandwiches are that good?” you ask. 

“They’re great. We don’t fuck around, I use the real salted butter in the foil wrappings and the thick bread and everything. Proper ham, not the wafer thin stuff. And there’s veggie bacon too, if you don’t eat meat. I don’t know, could you please just let me feed you something? Remus won’t forgive me if you came here and you didn’t even eat.” 

“I think you’re using Remus as a ploy,” you say quietly. 

“I am! So let’s go have a sandwich or a biscuit or something.” He waves his biscuits at you. “They’re Border’s. Butterscotch Border’s, you literally can’t ask for better.” 

Just try. Be brave for a bit. “I like the uh– the lemon ones.” 

James shoots up onto his feet, grinning. “Amazing taste. Let’s go find you some.” 

—

James takes you to the refreshment table. He finds you lemon drizzle biscuits, two packets, and he pushes two more into your hands with the command to take them home. He offers to make you dinner again when Lily arrives in a tizzy, with a chubby baby on her hip. 

Harry, she says. Just turned three. Scandalised everyone at home, Lily’s sister kicked her out, disaster. Harry, though, is beautiful. James and Lily are beautiful, and happy. James takes Harry into his arms the moment he sees him murmuring about his boy, and the sensation of guilt under your skin grows worse than ever. 

How are you liking group? Lily asks. Would you come back next week? That’s great! I’m so glad to hear it. 

—

You’re walking through Wilmand Street to the corner shop a few days later when you see him. Brown hair wet with snow, ashing a cigarette into the brick wall by the library. Remus cringes as he does it, blowing smoke from the side of his mouth in a call, “Y/N!” he says, “Hey, lovely, how are you? Sorry about the smoke,” he adds. “I was hoping I’d see you this week.” 

“Yeah?” 

“I wondered how you were doing.” 

“Well, don’t worry about me, I’m okay. I…” You cringe, pulling a hand down your sore chest. “I owe you an apology. I’m sorry for the other day, for dumping that stuff on you, you don’t even know me and I told you such a horrible thing and made you worry, and your friends were so nice to me at the community group and I just didn’t say thanks or anything. I’m genuinely ashamed of myself.” You smile a weird smile, clunky, attempting to brush everything away like it didn’t mean anything, silly little you. “All the time.” 

Remus’ expression goes odd, a wall you can’t read, left searching his winter jacket for clues as to how he’s feeling. “I don’t think you have anything to be ashamed of,” he says, finally and simply. 

“It was rude of me.” 

“I have some experience with feeling ashamed for the things other people have done,” he says, flakes of snow kissing his shoulders, a white dot coming to rest and melt on his cheek. “I understand why you’re feeling this way, and it’s expected, but… How do I put this?” 

You watch his eyes. Remus struggles to say anything more. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen a flicker of insecurity on him. He always seems calmly settled, as though he’s thought about the world and found what it is he was looking for in it a long time ago. 

“Just because we think something doesn’t make it true,” he says, hiding his hands in his coat pockets. “You might feel like it was wrong to tell me, but it wasn’t, and you might think you were rude to my friends, but you weren’t. They didn’t have a single bad word to say about you. Not that either of them tend to say anything disparaging about anyone,” he adds as an afterthought. 

“I wish I didn’t tell you, is all.” 

“I’m sorry. I can go on as though you didn’t, if that’s what you want, whatever you want.” 

You look down at your chest, nodding. “Okay.” 

Which isn’t a yes or no to his suggestion, but he doesn’t pull you up on it. “Okay. Are you going to the pharmacy?” 

“I– no. But I did hope to ask you something.” He nods, as if to say, Go on. “It’s about the sex clinic.” 

“What about it?” 

“I don’t really know what it is.” 

Remus looks around the street and then up and down your arms. The jumper you’re wearing is thin, your teeth aching to chatter, and he’s noticed it already. “Do you want to have this conversation over tea, lovely?” he asks. 

“Decaf?” 

“Yes, and biscuits, if you’re interested.” 

You follow Remus up the marginally steep hill that makes up Wilmand Street and enter the pharmacy behind him. It’s wooden front and newspaper clippings give way to the starker insides, where you find Sirius sitting at the front desk. Or rather, sitting on it, corded telephone held between his ear and his shoulder. “Oh, he’s just come in, but he has company. Yeah, he said.” Sirius presses the phone to his shoulder to give you both a small but earnest smile. “Hey, you’ve been snowed on. Turn the heating up before you catch your death.” 

“It’s been caught,” Remus says with a wave. “We’re going to sit in the kitchen. Tell Reg not to interrupt us.” 

Your mouth falls open, but Sirius only salutes his —friend? coworker? “James says he’s giving the phone a sloppy one for you.” 

“Lovely.” Remus laughs brightly, his hand slipping behind your shoulder. “Alright?” he asks. 

You give a nod and continue following him past the inside door to the kitchen you’d sat in before. Remus flicks the kettle on and sits down, forcing you to take his cue and sit opposite of him. 

“Much warmer in here,” he mumbles, stripping out of his coat. “Alright. What did you want to ask me about the sex clinic?” 

“Um… I don’t know. How do I go there?” 

“We’ll make an appointment. It’s not far from the leisure centre, so you can walk, or I can book you a taxi, give you a lift. We'll work something out.”

“And they… won’t mind that I– that I don’t really know what I’m doing?” 

You almost miss the dissatisfied noise he makes over the rising sound of the kettle. “They won’t mind.” 

“Do I have to tell them what happened?” 

“No. I mean, I assume it’s better if they have a clearer picture of the circumstances, but then again, you’re entitled to your privacy. You could just say you’re concerned about your intimate health.” 

“But they’ll ask questions.” 

“Yeah, they will. I know you don’t want to answer them, and that’s okay. You don’t have to answer them. Doctor’s, pharmacists, we just ask about stuff because we have to, but there’s no law that says you have to answer.” 

Now you’ve had time to think about things beyond the aching and the angry horror, a new fear has curdled. “What if he gave me something?” you say under your breath. 

“Then we can get you whatever medicine it is that you need and we can work toward you feeling better again.” His head tips as the kettle clicks. “Did you still want tea?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Remus makes you each a cup of decaf tea, bringing sugar and milk to the table for you to add yourself. 

“We can go now, if you want to.” 

“To the clinic?” you ask. 

Remus nods slowly. “Mm-hm. It’s an emergency.” 

“You’d come with me?” you ask, not breathless, but almost. 

“If you’re okay with it and you want me to, I’ll come with you. It might not be so scary. Or I can ask Lily to take you.” 

It’s not Remus’ fault that the person who assaulted you was a man like he is, but it does sound less intimidating to go with a girl. You’re not sure why. It’s not like he hasn’t been kind since the minute you asked him about confidentiality or that he deserves your distrust, but even sitting in this room with him now talking about the clinic has made you uncomfortable again. “Would she mind?” 

“Lily would love to take you. I know that sounds strange. She wouldn’t love that you need to go, but she wouldn’t want you to go alone if you’re worried about it.” 

“And she’ll go now?” 

Remus pushes your mug toward you. “You have some tea and I'll go and ask James if she’s around.”

“I don’t want to be a burden.” 

“You’re not,” he says. “There’s biscuits in the cupboard, lovely. If you want some, you can help yourself.” 

Things don’t pass that day in much detail after that. When Remus returns ten minutes later, you’ve finished your tea, and Lily is with him. She was on her way here already. She’d be happy to take you to the clinic. 

So you go, and you get checked out, and you submit to their tests and their invasive, well-intentioned questions. Lily takes you to a cafe afterward and buys you a pastry you can’t do more than poke. She takes you home. You feel guilty for not saying thank you in the car, but you can barely speak. A few days later you get a phone call with your results. You take a course of medications. You cry yourself to sleep three days in a row, because, as they’d tested for STDs, they tested for something else, and they’d told you what you‘d already known. 

You’re as pregnant as your home tests said you are. Despite everything, you feel an emotion you hate, and you push it down again. 

—

The door to your flat shakes with a sharp knock. 

You startle and stand, not sure what you’d been thinking, a hole burned into the floor at your feet. You’re in no state to answer the door, wet hair dripping a river down your back and your pajamas old. There’s nothing for it. 

You take the handle into your hand and squeeze. 

Dark-haired Regulus is standing in the hallway. You let the door close just an inch between you. 

“Regulus,” you say, unsure if surprise will help or hinder you. 

“Hello.” 

“How can I…” 

“Remus asked me to check in on you.” 

You’re not sure you like what he’s saying. “How do you know where I live?” 

“Remus didn’t ask me to come to your flat, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

“No, it’s not. I’m confused that you know where I live when I didn’t tell you.” 

He holds a deft hand up in surrender. “I live across the street, I’ve seen you come into the building, and your last name is on the postbox downstairs. I’m not doing anything illegal.” 

Just weird, then. 

“Remus asked me to keep an eye out for you,” he says, “but you haven’t been to the pharmacy, naturally.”

“So your solution was to come to my house?” 

“I don’t think there’s any need to get twitchy.” 

But there is. There is. He might not know what it is, and you might find thinking about it feels like a serrated blade end squeezed in your fist, but there is a need. You don’t want him to be here. It doesn’t matter that he’s small and skinny and has a sweet nose. This is your place to be by yourself, and to have nobody know where you are. This is the locked door. 

He has the sense to soften his bravado. “Sorry. I’ve made you uncomfortable.” 

You try to relax your shoulders. Your ribs ache with the tension. “Please,” you say gently, “tell Remus that I’m alright. Thank you for worrying about me.”

Regulus looks to the stairwell leading to the foyer. “He’s going to Community Support tonight if you want to tell him yourself. I am, too.” He doesn’t look at you again. “See you later,” he says to the stairs. 

 —

You go to Community Support despite yourself.

“Can you forgive me for not flirting with you?” 

You surprise the urge to flinch hard, turning to the voice with a half-smile. Sirius is standing beside you suddenly, your faces reflected in the plexiglass covered notice board just outside of the community hall. “What?” you ask. 

“I don’t mean to be offensive. I haven’t flirted because I thought Remus might have his eye on you, and I don’t want you to think it’s because you’re not beautiful.” 

You have to turn to see him to realise he’s teasing you now to be friendly. “I’d be offended if you did flirt with me,” you say. 

“Marvellous, then I won’t.”

“Remus doesn’t have his eye on me, though. He’s just been giving me pharmaceutical advice, I suppose.” 

“Oh, I see. I thought maybe you’d… Well, never mind. Forget I said anything.”

He’s handsome enough that you’d be shocked if he actually did flirt with you, clear-skinned as his brother, but with a warmer smile, almost mischievous, like he knows something you don’t know and he’ll tell you for the right price. His shoulders are slim, his biceps particularly solid as he crosses his arms over his chest. He notices you noticing and gives a flex, to your laughter. “Like what you see?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

“We’re on the rugby team, you know.”

“You and Remus?” 

“As if, Remus doesn’t like sports. He’s more of a walker. James and I are the sportsmen.” 

Sirius didn’t strike you as somebody who plays anything either, but it’s not polite to say. 

“Well, aren’t you coming inside?” he asks. “We could use a face like yours in there tonight. Beautiful girls are great for overall morale.” 

You shake your head. “Don’t think so.” 

“You came all the way here. You could at least come in for a bit of cake or something.” 

“Community support or community kitchen?” you mumble. 

“Everybody gets hungry. The best part of being in a community is making sure nobody goes hungry for long, right?” 

You give him a sideways look. Somehow, someway, you’ve become acquainted with a circle of philanthropists. Normal people aren’t so generous. You’re too tired to be this kind. 

“What kind do you have?” 

“Carrot, red velvet, Victoria sponge, and plain chocolate, I think. Maybe a bit of walnut sponge if Marlene hasn’t mauled the whole thing.” 

You’re not sure you can stomach it, just he’s looking at you so nicely that you want to go in with him. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

Sirius slips a hand behind your back, letting it hover an inch from your skin as he shepherds you through the double doors and into the main hall. It’s far more crowded than it had been on your first visit, a small circle of people already in chairs talking a ways from the crowded food table, pilfered, more sandwiches in hands than hands to hold them, and enough brewed coffee to scent the air. James is immediately noticeable crouching at the table, having pulled a crate of juice boxes from beneath it, laughing about something someone is saying to him —something Remus is saying, the tallest man in the room and somehow completely non-imposing, his voice more colour than sound as he talks. 

It must just be because Remus is attentive. Must be the memory of his nice hand on your shoulder, squeezing, that makes you pay special attention to his shaking. “Is he laughing?” you ask. 

Sirius tunes in quickly. “Yeah. He’s done that since we were kids. He can laugh like normal, but when something really has him it’s like he can’t get the sound out.” He chuckles himself. “Idiots. Come on, let’s get you your slice of cake.” 

You can’t help staring at Remus as Sirius takes you over to him and James. James is so happy to see you he almost loses his glasses. 

“You’re back! I thought my shitty impersonation of a counsellor might’ve scared you off. Don’t want some soup, do you?” 

“Don’t say yes out of pity,” Sirius says. “Nobody ever wants James to make them soup.” 

“You like my soup.” 

“I like Effie’s soup. She makes the best bowl of lemon chicken I’ve ever tasted, and you make a mediocre imitation of her recipe, which is as good as it gets while I’m away.” 

“Effie’s my mother,” James explains, clambering to his feet with the crate of small bottles of juice held to his chest. “Euphemia. And she does make the best lemon chicken soup, but mines just fine! And anyways, tonight I made winter vegetable because all the Christmas veg was 8p and I have a fuckton. It’s delicious. I cut the swede up so thin it melts in your mouth, I got fresh thyme from the garden, little bit of spinach, all of it cooked in a metric ton of butter.” 

Remus snorts softly. He meets your eyes, which has you smiling on automatic. “James is a bit of a soup addict.” 

”I–” You feel hungry for the first time in weeks. “I’d quite like to, uh, try some. If you really don’t mind.” 

James glows, shoving the case of juice onto the refreshment table next to the hot water towers. “Yes. How about toasties, lovely, d’you want a cheese toastie with it? You’ll love it.” He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Anyone else while I’m warming it?” 

Remus meets your eyes again, like you’re sharing a secret. “I’ll have a bowl, Jamie.” 

“Yes.” 

“Alright,” Sirius acquiesces, “and me. And Reg will, too, wherever he’s gone off too. But he won’t have cheese–”

“Just toast, I know.” 

James gets a look on him like he’s found the secrets of the universe. “I’ll make a garlic butter cheese toastie for all of you. Mm?” 

Sirius waves him away. 

Sirius grabs you a slice of cake even as you mumble about the soup and how it’s dessert before dinner. Doesn’t matter, he murmurs back, not worried about why you’ve gone shy, I promised you a slice.

You take an apple juice and follow him to a table. Remus comes with you. He looks sunnier today than the last time you saw him despite ever-cloudy weather. Maybe he’s just a bit golden. Steady, he sits at the table across from you with Sirius taking a seat perpendicular, the three of you three sides to a square, nothing to look at besides your hand squeezed around the handle of a plastic fork. 

“I’m sorry about Regulus,” Remus says. “I didn’t mean for him to visit you at home. He told me you weren’t thrilled about it, and I can’t blame you.” 

“I’m sorry too,” Sirius says, wrinkling his nose. “I have no clue why he did that.” 

“And Regulus would be sorry, he just has a hard time realising when he’s overstepped.”

You nod at the table. “It’s okay. I mean, it did make me uncomfortable, and I– wasn’t super polite to him. I just wasn’t expecting him to be at the door, that’s all. And he said sorry, actually. So it’s forgiven.” 

“Oh.” Sirius perches his hand in his head. “That’s unlike him. He doesn’t tend to be sorry.” 

“Neither do you,” Remus says. 

“It’s a family trait.” 

“Can I save this for after soup?” you ask, shuffling your plate to the side. It’ll be easier to eat your cake when everyone else is eating as well. 

“Course you can,” Sirius says, leaning back in his seat. “But if you don’t eat it, I’ll assume you don’t like me. I’m sensitive like that.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, again gifting you with a great feeling, as though you’re in on a secret with him. He’s wearing an aviator jacket that looks incredibly soft, worn but not tattered, sherpa insides flattened but clean. The sleeves warp as he crosses his arms in front of him on the table and leans forward, conspirator. 

“So, how was your morning? Besides Regulus’ unwelcome intrusion,” he says, almost drawling as Sirius does when he gets that playful look in his eye. 

You’re not sure how to handle these boys. But you want to try. You’re sick of having nobody, of being nobody, even if it’s a little discomfiting sometimes to be with them. “My morning was fine. Tries to get through all my washing but it’s a mountain, so I left it and had a long shower instead.”

“How long is long?” Remus asks. 

“Too long.” 

“Like Remus’, then. I’m a one and done man, wash and go.” Sirius peels forward, “And Remus takes hours. Uses all the hot water.” 

“You live together?” you ask. 

“We did for a bit, didn’t we?” Sirius says. 

“Six very long years,” Remus says. “But I have a flat, and Sirius lives on Wilmand Street now, thank god.” 

“Thank god indeed,” Sirius says, “now I can actually wash my hair on a semi-regular basis.” 

“Can you?” Remus asks. 

“What are you implying?” 

“Only that your hair seems distinctly unwashed lately, don’t worry.” 

“He’s showing off ‘cos you’re here,” Sirius says, smiling despite the accusation as he takes a hand through his hair and pushes it back from his face. “I wash plenty.” 

“Do you? I was almost hoping you’d stopped. Maybe that would explain the weird thing you have going on right here.” Remus scratches his upper lip. 

“Fuck off, you just don’t like a scratchy kiss–”

Remus laughs suddenly. After a moment, it tapers into silence, though his shoulders still shake, and you can hear his laughter in his voice when he says, “That charming thatch of stubble would be the last of my worries if I wanted to kiss you, Sirius.” 

“What’s top of the list then?” 

“The smell, obviously. I’m getting top notes of wet dog and a headier dampness–”

“You sick bastard,” Sirius says, sounding absolutely delighted at his friend's insult. 

“You just need a good wash, is all.” 

You don’t mean to, but you laugh. Giggle, really, entertained by them and shocked a little by the way they snip and snap at each other. You pitch forward, face angled down, eyes tempted to shut completely. Sick bastard, you think, laughing still. 

It only makes you laugh more when Sirius nudges you. “Hey, thought we were getting somewhere,” he murmurs. 

You giggle some more. “Sorry,” you squeeze out eventually. 

“Don’t be. He can take a hit. Even if he’s sensitive,” Remus says.

Sirius sniffs. “I’m not that sensitive. Can’t make a joke anymore without being entirely misrepresented.” 

— 

James’ soup becomes a staple for you over the next couple of days. Community Support is a daily occurrence, though some nights are more popular than others. The weekends are busiest, Friday and Saturday night, but Wednesdays have an uptick you aren’t expecting, sitting at one of the plastic tables with another cup or winter veg soup and a garlic buttered toastie. You blow on melty cheese as James brings the hot plate out to the refreshment table, making it easier to serve the many who want it. He’s gleeful, promising that they’re gonna love it, and then tacking on an amendment that anyone who doesn’t like it is more than welcome to something else from the kitchen. 

With payday for most at midnight Friday, or some time after, it’s the hump of the week that hits hardest. You don’t come for the soup, but some people do, and they can’t be blamed for it; stretching money out isn’t easy. 

Your stomach clenches. Your spoon wobbles in your hand. 

From across the room, Remus sends you a warm smile, a kid in his arms and another at his thigh, chattering away as their mam takes a well-deserved breather by the terracotta sofas. 

The next day is the same. James makes soup and ham sandwiches, ham off the bone, made it himself, and you pick at the crusts at a plastic table. Sirius keeps you company for a bit, and then Remus rags on him until he leaves. They’re both too smiley to believe any animosity. 

On Friday, James isn’t there. 

“Harry’s poorly.” 

“I thought he might’ve had a day off.” 

“He and Lily like the group too much for days off.” Remus scratches a hand through his hair. It’s the most boyish thing he’s ever done in front of you. “Are you liking it here? You haven’t missed a day all week.” 

“James makes a good soup.” 

“He left plenty, if you want it.” 

You’re not sure you can stomach it. You give a small shake of your head. “Will Harry be okay?” 

“Fine. He gets ear infections, James used to get them too, even when we were teenagers. He’s on antibiotics already, it’s just the crying that’s the worst. Makes him sick.” Remus smiles sympathetically. “Makes James sick, too. But they’ll be okay.” 

“That’s good. It’s too quiet here when James isn’t around.” 

The hall is practically silent. There are a few people milling around on the sofas and another handful drinking tea by the refreshment table. Mary is patting a crying woman with pink hair on the back. A two year old sits at her feet, staring up at her sullenly. 

“I could go turn on the radio.” 

You perch your chin in your palm, elbow on the table. Tired today. “That’s okay. It’s nice.” Quiet, but not lonely. 

“You feeling okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” You fight the urge to let your eyes shutter closed. “I’m okay. You okay?” 

“I’m great. I’m really glad you’ve been coming. I know you don’t stay for group therapy, and you don’t have to, but… I don’t know, I think it’s just good to be around people.” 

You feel like he meant to say a particular but dodged it at the last second. He hesitated. 

He said he wouldn’t bring it up if you didn’t want him to, but maybe you do, just so you know it was real, and bad. It was awful, wasn’t it? 

“I don’t like being alone,” you confess, scratching the back of your neck. “For a while…” You scratch scratch scratch, sounds of your nails over skin, then let your hand drop with a thump against your thigh. “I wanted to be alone. But now when I’m home by myself I feel awful.” 

“It’s normal to want company.” 

“Even after what happened?” 

“Especially after what happened. I think the stereotype is that people… experience something bad, and that they retreat into themselves, and that’s based on a real process of emotions,” —he talks quietly but surely, without a lick of condescension— “and a real sort of phenomena. Everybody needs time to lick their wounds, to put it heavily. But it makes sense that you’d seek out company when you’ve just had a really, really horrible thing happen.” 

You did retreat into yourself at first. Wasting days away in bed without an appetite, crying yourself sick and to sleep, hating yourself and the world and him, because it hurt so badly. But then you didn’t get your period when you were expecting it and it was like holding the times of a fork to a plug socket, a nasty shock flaring through your entire body from the tips of your fingers. And now you have decisions to make and a life to live after, it’s happening now, quickly. You aren’t feeling any better than you were that morning when you first woke up and realised you’d been attacked without fully knowing, but time is moving forward regardless. You don’t know why you crave other people, but you do. You like seeing Remus every night, even if he only talks to you once or twice. You like eating James’ home cooked food, like watching Sirius and Regulus bicker as they lean against one another, and you like seeing Lily press her nose to her baby’s. You wonder what that feels like. How soft is a small nose? What does it feel like to hold the person you made out of love and a little bit of every part of you in two hands? 

You’re still so lonely it’s palpable. There are moments throughout the day where you can’t face it head on, but the support group is genuinely helping, if it’s just to spend an hour outside of your head. 

Lonely, and with nobody to confide in. 

Remus watches you think for a while. He’s waiting patiently for you to speak again. 

“Can I tell you something stupid?” you ask softly. 

“Sure.” 

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I doubt I could.” 

You let out a deep sigh. He’s all browns tonight in his old jacket. Brown hair, brown eyes, brown jacket. “I was thinking about keeping the baby. I don’t know if you’d consider it a baby right now,” you murmur, staring at the corner of his mouth, “but I think I want it to be one. And I can’t stop thinking that it’s a bad idea.” 

“It’s your decision,” Remus says. When you sigh, he looks chastened, and you hadn’t wanted it to be a chastening. He clears his throat. “You already know that, don’t you?” Not expecting an answer, he leans back in his chair and levels you with a smile more friendly than you deserve. “Keep your baby if you want to, lovely. The point of– Well, of having the choice, is being allowed to choose yes, to choose to keep your baby, even if it’s a bad idea. Or looks like one.”

“I know, but…” 

But it’s a bad idea. But it happened because somebody hurt you. But you’re completely alone.

“I’m not upsetting you, am I?” he asks. 

“No, you’re not. You’ve been really nice to me,” you mumble, letting your aching eyes close as you lean into your hand. “It’s not you.” 

Remus settles for a few seconds. “Can I put my arm around you?” he asks finally. 

“Okay.” 

So he does. His voice drops to match your own, his elbow right between your ribs as his thumb skirts across the top of your shoulder, “I’m sorry I can’t fix it for you, I wish I could tell you what to do that’s going to make you the happiest. I can’t, though.”

“I know.” 

He rubs your shoulder. “I know you know.” 

There’s a lot to think about. You aren’t pregnant by a miracle. Something bad happened to you, and the choice is yours now to take, and no one would blame you for wanting to forget the whole thing. At least, nobody here at the support group would. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it; lately, it’s the only thing on your mind. But the guilt of wanting it won’t go away. 

“Sorry you have to do this again,” you mumble. 

“What, give you a hug?” Remus’ voice turns softer. It feels less like the kind words of a stranger and more like a friend. “I don’t mind it.” 

You try to stop feeling guilty. The most you can be right now is looked after, at least for a while, for as long as Remus will hold your shoulders. 

“It’s not your fault,” Remus says. “You know that, too, I’m guessing. What happened to you wasn’t your fault.” 

You’re not so sure. It’s a different guilt to look at in whatever light finds you when it happens. “I know,” you say, half a lie. 

“And I know you have no reason to trust us with something so huge, but we’re here for you. That’s the whole point of the group.” 

You sigh heavily. “I know,” you say under your breath. You’re just not sure it’s going to be enough.

𖦹

hi thanks for reading the first part! this is a heavy one but it’s also a fic I’ve wanted to write for a long time, or rewrite <\3 some of you may have read my first go at this years ago and I’m hoping to tie in some of the old stuff but it’s also its own story hopefully, it’s shaping up well! 

https://rapecrisis.org.uk rape crisis UK — they have a support line! and many many articles

information about rape crisis https://247sexualabusesupport.org.uk/faqs/

[nope-body]

.

[emmyrosee]

“You know, my food is really good.”

“Good, didn’t ask.”

Sukuna doesnt take your bait as he continues to shovel his food into his mouth next to you, cheeks puffed out adorably while his brows are furrowed in focus. He’s always been a voracious beast when he eats, like a dog protective of its bowl.

Your food is… okay. It’s not seasoned enough, nor spicy enough to rave about, and it’s not cooked the way you’d assumed, and the only problem with all of this is that Sukuna told you that you wouldn’t like it. You didn’t believe him, you love plenty of food.

But his food looks delicious. Yours? Not so much.

You nudge him softly, earning you a glare, “you should really try it, I think you’ll like it.”

“Don’t need to, got mine,” he says, scowling before licking a bit of sauce off of his finger. Your mouth salivates at the juicy, roasted veggies in his chopsticks, and you look down dejectedly at yours.

You sigh and dig at your food, trying to form a bite that could potentially change this whole experience around, but the food looks unsightly to you, and you wince at the idea of taking another one.

You roll your shoulders in an attempt to brace yourself for him. Then, you turn to him and innocently bat your lashes, “sukuna?”

“No.”

“Can I have a bite of yours?”

“I fucking knew it,” he snaps, light-knuckling his chopsticks. He turns to face you, venom in his eyes, “what did I tell you? Remind me. Enlighten me, please.”

You offer him a small smile and shrug, “I wanted to try it…”

“Yeah and look where it got you,” he snarls. “You hate your food, don’t you?” Now, you frown softly and nod. He grits his teeth and after a beat of silence, grabs the styrofoam container from in front of you, sliding it to himself. He then takes his own and passes it to you, seething the whole time.

Your heart flutters at the idea of him giving you his food, but you can’t fight the small bit of guilt that claws at you, and you look down at the new plate before looking back at him. “I love you.”

“Wouldn’t’ve fucking switched if I didn’t love you back,” he hisses, scooping up some of your former food into his chopsticks and working it into his mouth where he chews in thought. “This is fucking gross.”

“I know,” you sigh. “Here- take your food, I’ll eat at home-“

“Eat that, or I swear to everything unholy I’ll make you,” he warns, taking a wad of vegetables into his chopsticks to pile into his mouth. You nod and slowly start to eat, but at the flavor explosion in your mouth, you start to eat faster and faster, humming happily as your stomach gets fuller and fuller. Every now and again, when you turn to look at Sukuna to ensure he’s eating, he’s looking out of the corner of his eye before darting his gaze away to make sure you’re doing the same thing.

You hum happily and rest your head on his shoulder, the hustle and bustle of the food court being droned out as you focus on time with your man.

“You’re a good boyfriend,” you say happily, looping one of your arms through his bent elbow on the table. “I don’t care what people say about you.”

He shakes his head as he swallows his bite, “yeah yeah yeah, I’m the best. What can I say-“ he freezes.

He whips his head towards you, brows furrowed in the center of his forehead, “who the fuck is saying I’m not?”

You fall into a fit of giggles as he continues to look offended, and with your lunches almost complete, you can’t find it in yourself to get up and carry on with your day.

Not when you’re so content to stay like this with him, for as long as he’ll let you.

“You’re a nuisance, you know that?”

“I love you too.”

[girllblogging777]

𝐴𝐹𝑇𝐸𝑅 𝑇𝐻𝐸 𝑆𝑇𝑂𝑅𝑀.ೃ࿐

↳ bf!mattheo riddle x fem reader (slight angst ? fluff) requested by @ilovematteoxx ♡

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1.2k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : you can’t find your boyfriend after an argument, and the castle is surrounded by dementors

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

the argument had started over something small. ridiculously small, actually. you couldn’t even remember the details anymore, but somehow, the two of you had managed to let it escalate and before you knew it, mattheo and you were throwing sharp words like hexes.

your boyfriend, as loving as he was, had a way of getting under your skin sometimes. he was all about teasing smirks and cocky grins that usually made you laugh, but tonight you weren’t laughing. tonight, you were tired and on edge from a long week of classes and when he joked about you taking things too seriously, something inside of you snapped.

“not everyone has the luxury of not giving a damn, mattheo.” you’d answered with your arms crossed. “not everyone has parents who don’t care.”

the moment the words left your lips, you swore you could’ve felt the air shift. it was like time froze, everything suddenly stood still and went way too quiet. mattheo’s expression shifted, the usual soft gaze he saved for you disappearing. you saw how the hurt flickered in his dark eyes, before he quickly covered it with cold indifference.

“forget it,” he said sharply before walking out, turning his heel and disappearing out of the common room before you could even get a word out.

you stood there, frozen, the weight of your words slowly sinking in. merlin, you hadn’t meant it like that. in fact, you hadn’t meant to hurt him at all. but you had and now he was gone, and you didn’t even know where.

you couldn’t focus on anything for the rest of the evening and as wandered around the castle - silently hoping you’d bump into him around the corner - the hallways felt emptier than ever. dinner passed in a blur too. every time someone entered the great hall and sat down at the slytherin table, you quickly looked up, only to realise it wasn’t him.

you spent the rest of the night alone in your dorm, laying in bed and staring at the ceiling, trying and failing to get any sleep. your last conversation kept replaying in your head, what if you’d really hurt him this time ? what if he didn’t come back ? sure, mattheo had his walls, but he never stayed mad at you for long… your mind spiralled. outside the window, everything was dark and still. inside your heart, everything was twisted in knots.

and then, just as you were finally drifting off, a loud noise jolted you awake. it wasn’t just you either, you heard frantic footsteps outside your dorm, and voices raising as well. you sat up, heart pounding and confused. it wasn’t long before a frantic knock echoed through the door, and your best friend pansy came in.

“you have to get up, everyone is being taken to the great hall. now !” she said quickly. “what’s happening ?” you asked in a panicky tone as you got out of bed. “dementors,” she muttered, pulling you outside and rushing you to join the many students making their way through the dark halls. “they’ve been spotted outside.”

your heart skipped a beat. dementors.

the crowd of students rushed to the great hall, tension filling the air, already thick with worry and whispers. you scanned the faces around, searching for any signs of mattheo. but he wasn’t there. he wasn’t anywhere.

“pansy,” you breathed, tugging on her sleeve as realisation dawned on you. “i don’t see mattheo. where is he ?”

she shrugged, concern flickering in her eyes “don’t know, i haven’t seen him since this afternoon”

you swallowed hard, your chest tightening. where was he ? the last time you saw him was when he’d left after the argument, angry and hurt. what if he was outside when the dementors had left ? what if… what if the last thing you said to him was the stupid comment about his father ?

your breathing picked up and theo noticed it from across the room, before making his way over. “what’s going on ?” he asked with furrowed brows.

“i can’t find mattheo,” you whispered with a trembling voice. “we had a fight earlier and now he’s probably out there, and-“

theo exchanged a knowing look with pansy before cutting you off by gently pulling you into a reassuring side hug “he’s fine, amore. probably just running late, you know him, always slipping off to do merlin knows what.”

but you weren’t reassured. not when the castle was in lockdown. it when dementors were around. not when mattheo was nowhere to be seen, and the last thing he heard from you was something you didn’t mean.

“i didn’t mean it,” you whispered with regret. pansy rubbed your back to comfort you but it didn’t stop the tears from welling up in your eyes as you reached the great hall. the place was crowded with panicked students and teachers, but you still felt terribly alone in your world of fear.

“i shouldn’t have said it,” you choked out, wiping your eyes and ignoring the people running around and bumping into you. “i shouldn’t have-“

before you could finish, a heavy sound echoed through the hall. the giant wooden doors swung open with a gust of cold air, and every head turned toward the entrance.

mattheo stood in the doorway, along with some others students you didn’t even glance at. his curly hair was damp with the rain, and his robes slightly disheveled. he looked like he’d been through a storm, but he was there.

without thinking, you ran. you pushed through the crowd, not caring who you bumped into, your heart racing as you closed the distance between you. by the time you reached him, a tear had managed to roll down your cheek, but you didn’t care. you threw yourself into his arms, your hands fisting his robes as you breathed him in.

“mattheo,” you gasped, holding onto him like he might disappear. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean it, i swear i didn’t mean it.”

his arms came around you immediately, pulling you close, his chin resting on top of your head. “hey, hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “it’s okay, love. i’m not mad.”

you pulled back just enough to look up at him, your slightly red eyes searching his face. “you’re not?”

he shook his head, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “no. i just… needed some time. but i’m not mad. i promise.”

you bit your lip, trying to stop the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm you again. “i thought—i thought something happened to you. i was so scared.”

mattheo’s gaze softened, and he wiped the tears away with his thumb. “i’m sorry i scared you. i shouldn’t have just left like that.”

you shook your head quickly, you knew your boyfriend’s habit of walking out during arguments was just to help manage his anger. it was something he’d started doing when he realised you were the only good thing in his life, and he didn’t want to take his negative feelings out on you.

“no, it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have said what i did.” he leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “it’s okay,” he whispered. “i’m here. i’m not walking away this time.”

for the first time that night, you felt the tightness in your chest ease. the panic, the fear, it all melted away in his arms, replaced by the steady, grounding warmth of his presence. “nice pajamas by the way,” he chuckled, and you rolled your eyes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

tag list (comment if you wanna be added) @tateshifts @redeemingvillains @helendeath @jolly4holly @larmesdevanille @dexoq @shiftingwithmars @shiftingwithleah @fbvreadingblog @moonlightreader649 @bellatrix-lestrange5 @sp7-mr @sunkissedscribbles @chelawrites @myunperfektstorys @iris-qt @yikesitslush @clar2aa @deadsnakey @deadghosy @slut-for-fictional-men @romantasyreader28 @witchsrecs @mattiesgf

[chiumii]

run ~ sunghoon x reader

ଓ ⋆˙⊹ [ 성훈 ] ☆ sunghoon can't help but watch his favorite little toy go absolutely crazy, you unbeknowingly give him exactly what he wants; not only your blood , but your pussy as well.

word count ; 2.6k

sunghoon x reader | heavy cnc , slight manhandling , smacking , dacryphilia , mask-kink , fingering , stalking , chasing / prey + hunter , blood consumption, slight knife play, degrading, slight praise, sadism / masochism, you live in the woods , you're also kinda dumb... sorry . not proof read. since its spooky season and I felt like sharing my thoughts.... enjoy you fucking freaks.

sunghoon kept quiet as he stalked through your house , making sure not to step on the places where your floorboard squeaked. you were fast asleep under the covers , breathing steady and your eyes fluttering as they moved behind you lids. sunghoon liked watching you sleep , it almost made him feel as if he were sane.

he'd been stalking observing you for a while , his interest peaking when he saw you working your little day job in the book store down the road.. you were oh so kind to him; helping him find everything he needed, walking around the store with him in order to find a book he had been wanting, you were just so sweet.

he caught on to the hidden compliments you threw at him whenever he would come into your book store, making him smile and blush like crazy. you would even try flirting with him a little. you started looking forward to the times sunghoon came in, the way he would talk to you made you feel like you were special, and you were honestly thinking about asking him out on a date.

he liked watching you walk to and from your job, playing with your dog when you came home, he liked how you would light a candle and read in your room before bed right after doing your skin care routine and oh how he loved watching your dainty little fingers fuck your pussy. your nails freshly manicured in your favorite color.

ever since his little, fascination with you, a side of him was unlocked that he never new about. a side of him that he hides from everyone. you know what one says though; the more you keep things bottled up, the bigger the explosion was going to be.

now here he was, watching you fast asleep in bed, as your parted lips let out breathy sighs. he wonders what you're dreaming about.

maybe you dream about him the same way he used to about you. oh he doesn't sleep anymore unless he quite literally passes out. you've consumed so much of his person that its like the two of you are one now !

his hand brushes over your soft cheek delicately, coming down to the skin of your lips as he presses his thumb down onto your bottom one, feeling your breath fan his digit. he shudders, taking in every single one of your features

that was until you started to stir awake. sunghoon curses for being in your room for too long, knowing that you normally get up at 3:30 in the morning to go pee and get a glass of water. he shuffles out of your room quickly before your eyes fling open.

you heard something.

you could have sworn it. you sit up, your eyes adjusting to the dark room before they land on your bedroom door.

it was closed.

you always close your door before you head to bed. here it was, wide fucking open. fear runs through your veins, your hand shaking as you go to lift yourself up off the bed. you slip out of bed, wary of your surroundings as you make your way around the house. sunghoon can see your figure in the dark as he hides himself behind your couch, crouching down so you couldnt see him. you walk into the kitchen, flicking on a light and turning around to observe your area.

sunghoon has a clear view of you, watching as you shakingly look around for any sign of break ins or anything. you turn around and stare at your front door.

its open.

wide fucking open.

the darkness from outside seeping into your home. you just stare at the front door, your hands folded into your chest while your eyes are as big as the sun, staring straight out of the door and into the darkness.

sunghoon chuckles at how cute you are.

maybe you shouldn't have left it unlocked

sunghoon shifts slightly, but just enough for your head to snap to his. you scream as soon as you see the masked man in the corner. you dart behind you counter within a fraction of a second and run to grab a knife. sunghoon is quick on his feet, meeting you in the kitchen and trapping you in the room. you scurry around your silverware drawer, not finding any of your sharp knives.

"what the fuck!" you scream in fear. you never touch your sharper knives unless you have to. sunghoon chuckles behind you, and you swear you can just fucking die on the spot. you spin around, the tall man stands inbetween you and the rest of the house. your eyes dart around looking for something- anything to use to defend yourself that you can reach for quicker than he can.

nothing, not a single fucking thing in sight. you suddenly get an idea; the only way out was to run turn around and run out the back door, having a small chance of survival if you were to run into the woods behind your house.

"dont be stupid.." he warns, your biggest knife sliding out from his belt loop, his fingers coming to play with the pointy end of it, twisting it in his fingers. you hesitate, your body shaking as your mind screams at you to run.

your eyes drink in his figure. the shape of his arms defined by the black shirt he's wearing and a black pair of jeans that match. under different circumstances, you would be unbelievably turned on due to the ghost face mask covering this mans face. you breathe in through your nose, holding it as your body spins around, acting before you can think.

you work fast to unlock the door, swinging it open and slamming it shut behind you within a second.

"I said dont be fucking stupid" he leaps over the counter, beginning to run after you, his long legs and toned figure gaining distance on you quickly. the light from your house disappears as you make it to the tree line, your feet beginning to scrape against the ground of the woods. your breathing is heavy as you move as you run for your life. sunghoon watching you disappear into the shadows, following in after you. he listens to your feet hitting the ground, twigs and leaves crunching under the pressure of your body weight.

you turn around to see if you had gained any distance, but scream as you see him hot on your tail. your body feels like its going to give out underneath you at any given second and your feet begin to bleed against the rough ground. tears stream down your face as they blur your vision.

you're terrified.

you grab onto a small tree and make a sharp turn, hissing as the bark cuts into your hand. sunghoon follows you, watching your every move like a hawk as he does so.

"you can't run from me, y/n" you hear him tease you. you spot another tree to make a sharp turn at, but before you can reach out to grab it, you trip on a huge tree root that's growing above the ground. you stumble, your body hitting the ground in a tumble, leaves get in your hair and you feel your nose start to bleed. before you can process what happened, you feel a hand on your throat. your eyes shoot open as the masked man now stands in front of your aching body.

his fingers press against your artery, threatening to cut off your oxygen.

"no no please, please dont hurt me" you say as he places the tip of the knife on your thigh, trailing it up your skin and under your night gown. your breath shudders under the cold metal, your arms feeling weak after you just landed on them, your full body weight crushing them in an instant.

"aww, begging already sweetheart?" he coos at you, his knife finding your clothed clit and you can't help yourself when a whimper exits your throat. your head hurts as he throws the knife to the side, his fingers coming to rub against your clothed heat instead. your hands fly up to grab his arm, attempting to push him away.

sunghoon's grip on your throat disappears, a harsh sting on your cheek making you gasp as he slaps you across the face before grabbing both your wrists in his hold and pushing them into the dirt above your head.

"stop fucking squirming and take it" his fingers pull your panties to the side as he enters two of his digits into your wet cunt, and you feel embarrassment rise to your cheeks at the squelch your wetness makes.

"you're so wet, you like it when I use your body? what a fucking whore" you squirm under his fingers, your hips grinding into his hand and your legs kick out as he pumps your pussy, his fingers curling in and out of you.

"please" tears cloud your vision again and all you want to do is disappear.

"that's right, squirm for me a little more" a sob racks out of your throat, your wetness increasing as his fingers work inside you. your walls clamp down on his digits. you bite your lip hard enough to draw blood and you can taste the iron on your tongue.

you squeal out when you feel the coil in your tummy, your back arching off the ground and your legs begin to shake. sunghoon chuckles to himself, your pussy sucks in his fingers almost as if they're begging for his cock.

he knew today was the day he was gonna use your body. the way you purposely left the door unlocked and your curtains open, the way you looked outside longly before you had gone to bed, your bedroom window being cracked as your fingers fucked your pussy pathetically. he does it better, and you knew as much.

he sees your change in demeanor, your walls flutter around his fingers and your arms buckle in his hold. he tongues his cheek before he rips his digits out of you, your orgasm being stripped away from your body and you dart your head up, a scared whine leaving your lips as you hear the buckle of his belt come undone. you begin to thrust your heels into the ground, an attempt to get away from the man once more.

he looks back up at you, shaking his head with a 'tsk' before his hand comes away from his belt to slap your puffy cunt, a squeal erupting from your mouth. he takes his belt off completely, working to undo his button and zipper. when you hear his pants shuffle, that's when you know you're all done for, but that doesn't stop you from putting up a fight.

you kick his leg, earning you a loud "fuck" from the man and your wrists slip from his grip, but before you can claw your way out from underneath him completely, he grabs you ankles and drags you against the hard ground, your body under his as you notice his hard cock sprung against his abdomen, pearly beads of precum leaking out of his pink tip.

you whine as his free hand comes to wrap around your throat once more, squeezing down and you almost lose all ability to breathe. your head feels fuzzy, but you still fight anyways. your hands grab at the mask and rip it off, your eyes widening when you see who it is.

"s-sunghoon ?" you choke out in surprise. he chuckles at your reaction, his fanged teeth on display. his fist pumps his cock as he leans over your trembling figure, his face coming down to yours as he licks the blood off your cheek, a scratch littering your face from your earlier fall.

you whine under him as he pushes his tip against your sopping hole, your pussy wet enough he was able to slide in with ease. your back arched as you curled into him, your hands coming up to grip his hair in your fingers and yanking, attempting to pull him off. he hisses under your grip and his hand lets go of your throat, earning you yet another slap across the face. just as his palm met contact with your cheek, he began to thrust his dick inside you roughly, his thrusts demanding and concentrated. you scream at the pain of the stretch, his cock splitting you open in a sting.

your hands fall from his hair, moving towards his hips to push him away

"s-stop f..f p lease ! h-hoon no !" you squeal as his tip presses up against your cervix. his thrusts dont falter at your desperate attempt to get him away from you, your pussy clenching down on his length as your moans fill the cool, autumn air. the trees hum in tune with your beautiful melody, sunghoon groaning.

"shut up and take it and I might let you live" his threat hangs in the air over your head and you whine, your hands letting go of his body, coming up to grab his biceps, one holding your legs apart and the other is digging its palm into the ground, holding him up above your frame as he fucks himself into you.

your jaw slacks open, the prettiest of whines and whimpers dance off your tongue in pleasure. sunghoon drags his lower lip inbetween his teeth, your cunt sucking him in as he graces your sweet spot with every thrust.

"please f-fuck oh my god" you beg- not having a clue in the world what for. your body is tingly and your head is light. your head turns to the side and tears roll down your cheeks, your mouth kisses sunghoons hand that holds himself up, and he can't help but laugh at your cuteness.

"god you're so fucking adorable when you cry, pretty" you hum at his words. his hips rock against yours, your hole fluttering around him like a butterfly's wing. the coil in your stomach tightens and you feel your orgasm approaching, and sunghoon can tell because you get that look in your eye as your body begins to convulse. he curses under his breath as he sits up.

he grabs your legs and forces them over his shoulders, his body pressing down on the back of your thighs as he brings your knees to the sides of your head, folding you in half. your eyes widen at the deeper angle, your hands moving towards his back as your nails dig into him.

"you still want me to stop, precious?" he looks into your eyes and you can't help the pathetic way you shake your head slowly, a hushed whine fills sunghoons ears as a protest. his thrusts pick up pace again, fucking you into the dirt beneath you.

"that's what I fucking thought" your legs feel like jelly as sunghoon presses them up against you, your orgasm from before begins to wash over you.

sunghoon snakes a hand down in between your sweaty bodies, rubbing sloppy circles on your clit and you finally feel yourself begin to spill over. with your legs wrapping around his head, you cream all over his dick with a scream, his cock hitting all the right angles.

he doesn't care. his pace doesn't let up as he fucks you through your orgasm, overstimulation beginning to make your body convulse in his hold, your pulse picking up the pace even more.

"n-no , 's too much pl-please !" your hiccuped sobs of desperation egg sunghoon on further, your clit pulsating against his fingers.

"we're not done until I say we are, understand?" you nod your head, taking his dick pathetically, your eyes begging and your mouth telling him to continue with your sounds.

"you're gonna take my cock like the pathetic little girl you are" he spits at you, venom in his tone.

you might be just as sick as he is, purposely leaving your doors unlocked knowing who was going to be barging in this late into the night.

[nightingale-prompts]

Comforting Your Batboy

First | Previous | Next

Danny slept next to Dick for a few days after what happened. He no longer felt secure about his place here. No matter where you go you take yourself with you and Danny is the problem here yet again.

Danny didn't understand affection, at least not the kind that a parent gave. The moment Danny told Dick that his parents were scientists Richard understood. Gotham had seen dozens of scientists who pushed the boundaries of morality and there was no shortage of children used to fulfill their ambitions.

Danny still missed his parents. Regardless of how things ended, he had lived his entire life with a family unit that on paper meant life was stable. He had somewhere to go and people who at least acknowledged him as family. Parents that took care of him at least out of obligation.

This story sounded familiar. Like Jason who never stopped loving his mom despite everything or Tim who accepted his neglect as what it was. They didn't know what it was like to have parents that loved them like they should. Dick was lucky to have the parent he had.

Danny remembered quiet dinners as his parents rushed to finish the food that Jazz made or them going on long tirades about their research. For 12 years they devotedly worked on that portal. Every chance they got they'd run off to the basement. Because it was their life's work, the only thing that mattered.

When it was unveiled, Jazz only scoffed. She hated the portal. Dad looked to Danny for praise and Danny didn't know what to say.

"Isn't it just the greatest thing you've ever seen?" Dad put his hand around Danny's shoulder.

"Well...its definitely a thing." Danny laughed awkwardly.

Danny had hoped that when the portal finished it would mean he'd spend time with his parents. Maybe they'd give him more than a passing glance when he brought them his report card. He could share with them his dreams and plans to be an astronaut. Show them the stars and all his research. To prove to them that he was a scientist too.

But that didn't happen. None of that would ever happen.

Jazz warned him not to hope for too much.

"People don't change Danny." She said simply.

Danny still tried. He still hoped. That hope made him try.

That hope killed him.

Danny never told Dick the specifics, about the accident. Dick never pried, but he knew something wasn't right.

Danny would cry in his sleep some nights. Dreams of a life that was far away now. Dick couldn't do much, all he could do was hold Danny's hand and wait for the nightmare to pass in hopes that Danny would forget his dream when he opened his eyes.

Danny's body was scarred. Something he used his powers to cover but they were still there and appeared when the stress got too much. Dick only saw a small part of them.

Dick got a full view once of Danny's back once when Dick left him a change of clothes. Lichtenberg scars like feathered ferns ripped through Danny's left arm and back. Danny hated it when people saw his scars and the marks disappeared the moment he realized he was being watched.

Dick didn't mention it. Not even the faint green glow the marks gave off.

"Why does Batman hate me?" Danny asked peeking out from under his blanket. He was still shrunk down

Dick bundled the toddler up in the blanket.

"He doesn't hate you. He just...he doesn't like things he doesn't understand." Dick tried to not make that sound awful.

"He doesn't understand me." Danny sighed.

"And he doesn't have to. He won't do anything to you. Not with me around. I promise. I know you've been hurt before and you must have felt alone but you got me." Dick ruffled his little fuzzball's hair.

(Ignore small errors. Have bat picture.)

[misswynters]

Father of the realm

Cregan Stark x Wife!reader

[synopsis: You are pregnant with a babygirl, or that’s what your husband keeps saying. He truly wishes it’s a girl.

[a/n: yet another cregan fic since i can’t get enough of him.

[note | pls don’t just like, but also reblog & give me feedback. i don’t want to get shadowbanned

Winterfell's ancient halls echoed with the sound of crackling fires and the gentle hum of activity. Outside, the snow fell softly, blanketing the courtyard in a serene layer of white. Inside, however, a different warmth filled the air. It was a warmth born of love, care, and anticipation.

You sat in your chambers, a soft, knitted blanket draped over your legs, the flickering fire casting a golden glow across the room. Your hands rested on your swollen belly, feeling the gentle movements of the life growing within you. Each flutter and kick was a reminder of the miracle you carried, and with each one, your heart swelled with love.

Cregan entered the room quietly, his footsteps almost silent on the stone floor. His eyes softened as he saw you, a tender smile playing on his lips. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his voice a soothing balm.

You smiled back at him, the sight of his concern warming your heart. "I'm well, Cregan. Just a bit tired."

He knelt beside you, his large hands gently cupping your belly. "Is she moving much today?" he asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement.

You laughed softly, placing your hand over his. "Yes, she's been quite active. She seems to love it when I'm near the fire."

Cregan's smile widened, and he pressed a gentle kiss to your belly. "She's already got a mind of her own," he said, his voice filled with affection. "Just like her mother."

You reached out, running your fingers through his dark hair. "You really think it's a girl, don't you?"

He looked up at you, his eyes filled with certainty. "I know it is. I can feel it in my bones. Our little girl."

The joy in his voice was infectious, and you couldn't help but feel your heart flutter with happiness. "I hope you're right," you said softly. "But boy or girl, as long as they're healthy, that's all that matters."

Cregan nodded, his expression growing serious for a moment. "You're right, of course. But I can't help but dream of holding our daughter, of teaching her about the North, of watching her grow into a strong, brave woman like her mother."

Tears welled up in your eyes at his words, the depth of his love and dreams for your child touching you deeply. "She'll be so lucky to have you as her father," you whispered.

"And she'll be even luckier to have you as her mother," he replied, his voice filled with conviction. He stood up, gently helping you to your feet. "Come, let's sit by the fire. It's warmer there."

As you settled into the comfortable chair by the hearth, Cregan wrapped a thick, warm blanket around your shoulders. He sat beside you, his hand never leaving yours. "You must tell me if you're uncomfortable, or if you need anything," he said, his brow furrowed with concern.

You squeezed his hand, reassuring him. "I will, Cregan. You've been so wonderful, so attentive. I don't know what I would do without you."

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "You'll never have to find out. I'm here, always."

The weeks passed, each day bringing you closer to the moment you would meet your child. Cregan's excitement grew with each passing day, his dreams of a daughter filling your conversations. He was constantly by your side, ensuring your comfort, worrying over every little thing.

One evening, as you lay in bed, the baby kicked particularly hard, making you wince. Cregan was immediately at your side, his face filled with worry. "Are you alright? Is the baby okay?"

You smiled, placing his hand where you felt the movement. "She's just making her presence known," you said with a laugh. "She must take after her father."

Cregan's eyes softened as he felt the strong kick. "She's a fighter," he said proudly. He gently rubbed your belly, his touch soothing. "Rest, my love. I'll stay here with you."

As you drifted off to sleep, you felt the warmth of his hand on your belly, his protective presence a constant comfort.

The day finally came when the midwife announced that it was time. Cregan was a bundle of nerves, his concern and excitement palpable. He stayed by your side through every contraction, his hand holding yours, his words of encouragement soothing your fears.

When the cries of your newborn filled the room, Cregan's eyes filled with tears. The midwife placed the baby in his arms, and he looked down at the tiny face, his expression one of pure love and awe. "It's a girl," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "Our little girl."

You reached out, touching the soft cheek of your daughter, tears streaming down your face. "She's perfect," you said, your heart overflowing with love.

Cregan placed the baby in your arms, his eyes never leaving yours. "You did it," he said, his voice filled with pride. "You brought her into this world. Our beautiful daughter."

As you held your baby girl, feeling the warmth and weight of her in your arms, you knew that your life had changed forever. The love you and Cregan shared had brought her into the world, and together, you would give her all the love and care she deserved.

Cregan sat beside you, his arm around your shoulders, his eyes shining with tears of joy. "Welcome to the world, little one," he whispered. "We're going to take care of you, and love you, forever."

In that moment, surrounded by the warmth of the fire and the love of your husband, you felt a peace and happiness unlike any other. Your family was complete, and you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united by the unbreakable bond of love.

As winter melted into spring, the walls of Winterfell became a lively home filled with the sounds of new life. Your daughter, Lyanna, now a few months old, had quickly become the heart of the castle. Her bright blue eyes and soft giggles enchanted everyone who met her, but no one was more captivated than her father.

Cregan, the once gruff and imposing Lord of Winterfell, had transformed into a doting and protective father. He took Lyanna with him everywhere, carrying her in a specially crafted sling so she could stay close to his heart. The sight of the formidable Stark lord cradling his tiny daughter became a common one, and the people of Winterfell couldn't help but smile at the tender displays of affection.

One morning, as the sun cast its first light over the ancient walls, Cregan gently lifted Lyanna from her crib. She yawned and stretched, her tiny fists rubbing her eyes. "Good morning, my little princess," he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "Ready to greet the day?"

Lyanna cooed in response, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. Cregan chuckled and secured her in the sling, making sure she was comfortable before heading out to start his day. You watched them from the bed, your heart swelling with love at the sight of your husband and daughter.

Cregan was true to his promise of taking her everywhere. Whether it was inspecting the walls, overseeing the training in the courtyard, or attending to matters in the great hall, Lyanna was always by his side. The castle's inhabitants quickly learned that the quickest way to their lord's favor was through a kind word or gentle gesture towards his beloved daughter.

The following day, as Cregan walked through the bustling courtyard with Lyanna nestled against his chest, he overheard a servant muttering something unkind about your family. His eyes darkened, and he turned to face the man, his voice a low growl. "If I hear another word of disrespect, I will see to it that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?"

The servant paled and stammered an apology, quickly scurrying away. Cregan's protective nature was legendary, and no one dared to cross him, especially where his wife and daughter were concerned.

As his beloved daughter grew, Cregan's bond with Lyanna followed suit. He spoiled her with gifts—beautifully crafted toys, soft blankets, and tiny dresses that made her look like a princess. But more than the material things, it was his unwavering presence and love that made Lyanna's world so full of joy.

The following afternoon, as you sat in the gardens with Lyanna on your lap, Cregan joined you, carrying a small, intricately carved wooden wolf. "Look what I have for you, little one," he said, his voice filled with excitement. He handed the toy to Lyanna, who grasped it with chubby fingers and examined it with wide-eyed wonder.

You smiled at the sight, your heart full. "You spoil her, Cregan. She'll grow up thinking the world revolves around her."

He knelt beside you, his eyes softening. "She deserves to know how much she is loved. Both of you do."

As the seasons changed, Cregan's protectiveness extended to ensuring your well-being as well. He insisted on walking with you whenever you went outside, his arm always ready to support you. He worried if you spent too much time on your feet and made sure you had everything you needed to stay comfortable and happy.

As you sat together in your chambers, Lyanna asleep in her crib, Cregan pulled you into his arms. "You and Lyanna are my everything," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I would do anything to keep you both safe and happy."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "We are so lucky to have you, Cregan. I couldn't imagine a better father and husband."

He pressed a kiss to your hair, holding you close. "And I couldn't imagine a life without you both. You are my heart, my reason for everything."

As the months turned into years, the bond between you, Cregan, and Lyanna only grew stronger. Winterfell thrived under Cregan's leadership, and the people respected and admired the love and dedication he showed to his family. Lyanna grew up surrounded by the warmth and strength of her parents' love, knowing she was cherished beyond measure.

On a hot summer day when the sun was blazing hot, all you saw was joy as you watched Cregan and your daughter playing in the courtyard, your heart swelling with happiness. The sight of your husband chasing your giggling daughter, his laughter echoing through the air, was a testament to the life you had built together.

The sight of your husband chasing your giggling daughter, his laughter echoing through the air, was a testament to the life you had built together.

Cregan caught Lyanna and lifted her into the air, her delighted squeals filling the courtyard. "Got you, my little wolf," he said, spinning her around. He brought her close, kissing her cheek as she wrapped her arms around his neck.

You joined them, the three of you basking in the warmth of the summer sun and the love that bound you together. "Our family," you said softly, looking at Cregan and Lyanna with pride. "Our beautiful family."

Cregan smiled, his eyes filled with the same love and devotion that had carried you through the challenges and joys of life. In the heart of Winterfell, amidst the ancient walls and the timeless snow, your love story continued to unfold. It was a story of strength, honor, and unbreakable bonds—a story that would be told for generations to come.

taglist: @benjicotblckwood @travelingmypassion @shoxji @thornsandtulips @spn-obession

[monogamia]

not me haunting your asks in every single blog you own 😈 sooo, do you write parents!au? bc I wanted to request some scenario abt how sylus, caleb and xavier would react to their kids telling u to shut up. I KNOW ITS WEIRD BUT ITS A OLD TREND I THINK?? anyway, love ya babe 💘💋💋

੭⠀ A little prank.

⋆⠀AUTHOR'S NOTES: I love parents!au so much 😭

⋆⠀FEATURING: Xavier, Sylus, Caleb.

⋆⠀WARNING: English is not my first language, so it may contain some mistakes.

Your son’s favorite pastime was annoying his father, and he was certainly better at it than anyone else. Not only that, but he also managed to convince you to help with yet another one of his… pranks.

The boy smiled when he saw his father heading to the kitchen and turned back to his video game. Not long after, you walked into the room with something in hand. “Sweetheart, could you take this—”

“Shut up, mom,” he tried to say in an irritated tone, but a smile was plastered across his face.

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀XAVIER

Not even five seconds had passed before your son was groaning in pain, Xavier’s slipper lying on the couch beside him after hitting the back of his head squarely. “Dad—”

Xavier raised the other slipper, pointing it at the boy. “Apologize. Now,” he said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Is that any way to talk to your mother?”

“But I was busy, and she—” Once again, the boy didn’t get the chance to finish his sentence, the other slipper flying straight at him. Xavier crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on his son.

You widened your eyes and placed a hand on your husband’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly. “Okay, okay, it was a… joke, just a prank.”

Xavier gave a faint smirk, glancing at you. “…Yeah, I knew that.” He pulled you into a hug, sticking his tongue out at your son. “You think I’d stop at that if I saw him disrespecting you like that?”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀SYLUS

Sylus prided himself on being an exemplary father. He was patient, fun—or so he thought—and wealthy. I mean, surely his son was already having a better childhood than most people who came from the same place Sylus had, right?

And perhaps it was exactly that freedom and comfort in his presence that made the boy feel confident enough to make that kind of joke.

“I must’ve misheard. Definitely,” Sylus said loud enough for both of you to hear. You turned away so he wouldn’t see your expression, while your son simply grimaced.

“Dad, she could’ve just asked one of my uncles to go—or, I don’t know, gone herself!” the boy said, spinning the pieces of a pistol between his fingers.

Sylus’s steps were almost inaudible; it was as if he had teleported to his son’s side. He crossed his arms, an irritated expression on his face. His son had never seen that look before—at least, not directed at him.

“Don’t you dare talk to your mother like that under this roof,” he said. “I don’t care if she could’ve asked someone else—if she tells you to do something, you do it. She brought you into this world.”

The boy couldn’t hold back his laughter, bursting out in hysterics. Your husband opened his mouth to say something but stopped when he saw you laughing as well. He let out a sigh, rubbing his face. “You too now?”

𝜗ৎ ⠀⠀CALEB

Honestly, your son was expecting Caleb to yell at him or chase after him, but it was even more terrifying to see him stay silent, slowly turning to face the boy.

He froze, setting the video game controller down on the coffee table. Caleb’s eyes stayed fixed on him, and his silence lingered just long enough to make the boy shift uncomfortably under the stare.

When Caleb finally spoke, his voice was strangely calm—and that wasn’t exactly a good thing. “You have five seconds to do as your mother said and come back here, and another five to apologize and explain yourself.”

You let out an awkward laugh before wrapping your arms around your husband. “It was just a joke, I swear.” Caleb glanced at you, slipping a hand under your shirt to give you a pinch. “Ouch! It was his idea!”

He rolled his eyes but let out a relieved laugh, despite his irritation with your newfound way of spending free time. “I should’ve known.”