#anybody who would like to make a friend and chat

[weezerlvr228]

flippin boobahs!

[fridayyy-13th]

i am feeling So Many Things at the moment but mostly i just feel like a disaster

[coquettepascal]

texas sweet

summary: joel is your friendly neighborhood dad of the year, so why is his driveway empty on father's day? better yet, why do you feel the need to make up for everyone elses absence?

tags: 18+, smut, handjob, desc of joel mastubrating, a "massage", neighbor!joel x f!reader, massages, general cheesiness, soft!joel, pathetic!joel, almost(?) sub!joel, reader gets blueballed (sorry), biting, joel whimpering, joel being a proud girl dad, no-outbreak, ellie and sarah exist, tommy is mentioned(!!), joel is a southern gentleman, mention of reader having parents, no desc of reader but she can fit between joel and the couch, dilf!joel (yum)

-> part. ii here!

a/n: my first joel fic ever... i would like to thank every person who has written no-outbreak!joel or pre-outbreak!joel. i freaked it.

texas sweet masterlist and my masterlist

(4.9k, not beta read.)

Moving to Texas was not the plan, or even the “blessing” your mother claimed it would be. Being the one who took over your grandparents home after they moved to a seniors facility? Fantastic! Amazing, even. Leaving your job, friends, and boyfriend, back home? Horrible. Heart wrenching and annoying. 

Austin, for the most part, was lonely. Long distance didn’t end up working between you and your boyfriend, your friends just got busier with their jobs, and it wasn’t like your parents could just drive 14 hours to see you every weekend. Co-workers were nice, but honestly who really wants to hang out with people you already spend 40 hours a week with? Maybe you were jaded, or picky, which was what your mother also claimed, or maybe your whole life was uprooted for what felt like no reason.

What you weren’t picky about, was the view from your bedroom window. You’re not a peeping tom, or a perv, but it isn’t your fault that your dilf-y next door neighbor is so easy on the eyes.

No, moving to Austin was not a blessing, but Joel Miller was.

Joel was the neighborhood guy. Need an oil change? Joel. Need your fence fixed? Joel. Block party? Joel’s yard. It’s like he doesn’t know how to say no to anybody, that southern politeness deeper than the drawl that lies in his voice. When you had first moved here he had helped you move your couch through the door, all smiles and polite nods. He barely introduced himself before he was asking if you needed any help, and he had called you “young lady,” which made you giggle. Such a giving man, but of course he was. A single father to two daughters? “No” wasn't in his vocabulary.

Sometimes, you think if your dad was as good a father as Joel Miller was, maybe you wouldn’t be fiending after him with such ferocity. Watching him with his two girls, Sarah and Ellie, was something that tugged your heartstrings no matter what. Sarah wasn’t around a lot anymore, apparently she went away to a fancy college. You had helped her pack all her stuff into Joel’s truck, but quickly went inside when you saw him getting misty eyed, you didn't want to embarrass the poor guy. Ellie is younger than Sarah and still lives at home. Honestly, you didn’t know much about her apart from the fact that she was adopted and that she’s in high school. She’s always happy to chat, but she’s also always going somewhere, which leaves Joel lonely sometimes. 

Joel seems better suited for loneliness than you are though. His brother Tommy comes around pretty often, though they seem fairly opposite. Tommy truly is sweet, has always chatted with you during block parties (even if it may be for nefarious reasons when he’s had too many drinks,) but he looks like… a fuckboy. Without fail, every time he rolls up to Joel’s house, he’s blasting some shitty new country music and wearing Pit Viper sunglasses as he carefully parks his spotless truck. Despite their differences though, they get along just as well. Your summer evenings are often interrupted by the sound of their laughs and the crisp sound of the two cracking open some cold ones. 

So why is it that when Father’s day rolls around, Joel’s driveway is empty?

You aren’t watching on purpose, you just happen to glance over that way a lot. The only action you see from his house is Ellie leaving for her friend's house sometime after noon, like usual on a Sunday. No signs of Sarah or Tommy. Part of you figured that maybe Sarah would make the lengthy drive down from her school, or maybe that Tommy would show up at some point, but nobody does. 

‘Not creepy,’ you assure yourself as you go upstairs to peer through your bedroom window to see if anyone is there. You could totally look through the kitchen window that directly faces his backyard, but you fear the day he’s looking right back at you. 

Looking outside, you see nothing. Joel’s grey-blue truck sits unmoved in the driveway, his plants are watered though so you guess he came outside at some point. The thought makes you feel a bit sad, the image of Joel and his soft eyes watering the plants, whistling to himself and trying to tell himself it doesn’t matter that nobody came. He probably really doesn’t care at all, a lot of men aren’t very sentimental or emotional about days like this, but you care.

He’s a good man, a good father, and a good neighbor. Seeing him be underappreciated on what is basically his day is ticking you off for some stupid reason. When 3pm rolls around you decide that you have to do something for Joel, it feels wrong not to. 

Which is how you end up in line for the register at Home Depot. You sat in the parking lot for 10 minutes racking your brain, trying to think of things that guys like, but came up with nothing. Joel is a contractor, so he’ll probably find some use out of a 50 dollar Home Depot gift card, but it still feels too impersonal. Joel literally fixed your toilet when a date you took home broke the handle off the tank mid-vomit. He’s too nice to just hand a stupid gift card with “Happy Father’s day” scrawled across the mini paper envelope. He deserves something thoughtful, something gentler than a gift card for (probably) his job. 

…Which is how you end up waiting in line for the register at the supermarket. You have a bouquet of flowers in your hand, with a Home Depot gift card shoved in your jacket pocket. It feels utterly ridiculous to give Joel Miller flowers, to pick out which colours you think he’d like and get the florist to wrap them up neatly with a bow, but you have a good reason. At some point in the past week you had seen a post about how a lot of men never receive flowers. It resurfaced in your head as you picked your brain again, making you wonder if Joel had ever received flowers. You know that he was married once, but that was when Sarah was little, it’d probably been 10 or even 15 years since he had any gestures like that made for him.

Not that this was for romance reasons. It was for father’s-appreciation-day reasons. Of course.

Maybe you shouldn’t be so invested in your neighbors emotions and life, but it’s too late now. You carefully pack away the flowers in the back seat of your car, snuggling the gift card into the ribbon that holds the flowers together. 

—

And if you thought that standing in line at Home Depot, or at the supermarket was bad, it’s so much worse trying to work up the courage to knock on Joel’s front door. You can’t figure out how to hold this bouquet of flowers behind your back without dropping them, so you just awkwardly knock on his door with one hand, flowers in the other. At least the gift card is managing to stay in place where you tucked it, but you wish you told the florist not to write his name in cursive.

Your repeating thoughts of “Is this weird? Am I weird?” are interrupted when he opens the door.

Joel looks… normal. He doesn’t look sad like you thought he might, if anything he looks more confused at you being there. His brown hair is tousled slightly and he’s wearing pajama pants, even though he smells fresh. Joel’s eyes meet yours and he tilts his head quietly, as if waiting for you to go on, but what do you even say? Oh shit that’s right–

“Happy father’s day,” your voice comes out shyly. You shove the flowers at him a little abruptly and he blinks in surprise, accepting them. It’s awkward for a second, the way his eyebrows shoot up as he notices the cursive lettering of his name written on the envelope.

“These’re for me, darlin’?” He asks curiously, still looking over the flowers.

A stammering of “um” and “yeah” leave your mouth pretty quickly and he smiles. You’re pretty sure he says thank you, but you just kind of stare at him awkwardly. A beat passes between the two of you as he admires the gift. “You uh– You don’t think of me as your dad, do you?” Joel asks. Oh fuck. You hadn’t thought about the fact that maybe that was what he would take away from this. All of your thoughts had been consumed by worries that he’d think you were trying to hit on him, but here he was thinking that you thought of him as a father figure. Which you didn’t. Your dad is fine, no need to replace him, at least not at this point. 

“No, no. Oh my god– Sorry,” You choke out, half laughing. It’s a quiet moment on the porch for a second, just the two of you standing there. Maybe you should explain your thought process.

“It’s just that you’re a dad and like– not to sound like a weirdo freak but nobody’s been at your house all day and it made me sad for you. Not that I pity you but,” your voice trails off as you fear you’ve made this worse. Joel seems a bit surprised at this, mouth opening slightly but then transitioning to a soft smile.

“And what if I told you that I wanted everyone t’leave me alone today?” He asks you slyly. And oh god, that is so much worse than him mistaking this gesture for flirting or pity. You never would have thought that maybe the guy who does everything for everyone probably just wants to be left the hell alone for a gift. Your heart drops in your chest, taking all the blood in your face with it. Embarrassment floods you with a force you didn’t realize possible, stuttered apologies leaving your lips as fast as you can. Joel shakes his head, laughing quietly as you sputter “sorry” repeatedly, like a broken sprinkler.

“I’m jokin’, sweetheart. I appreciate this,” he says. The crows' feet by his eyes shouldn’t be as charming as they are, but combined with that rumbling laugh and smile… he could get away with anything. He plucks the Home Depot gift card from the ribbon and huffs a laugh, like he’s impressed.

Well that’s… something? It made him smile right? Maybe feeling bad for Joel was better than feeling stupid in front of him. You step back, towards the stairs of his porch, but he shakes his head. “You were really this worried?” He asks, admiring the flowers. That makes your heart bloom in your chest, seeing how much he really liked this. Joel didn’t seem much like a flower guy, but you saw the way he kept his yard neat, with tulips in the spring and his lawn trimmed squarely. Shyly, you nod in response to his question. It feels silly to worry for him like this, you don’t know if he considers you a friend the way he is in your head.

“S’awful sweet,” he tells you. Something about his presence is so big, a balance of hospitality and intimidation all at once. Maybe it’s his big stature, broad shoulders and thick arms, a body built for work. Or his voice, the strong timbre of it, humbled in southern twang. Joel is a force of warmth, a heat that can’t be contained. His heart shines through his golden skin, forcing whoever he looks at to have a spotlight. That’s where the intimidation lies, in how he makes you feel like there’s a halo over your head, all his attention right there. 

He’s so hot you don’t even want him to look at you.

But there he is anyways, smiling as he admires the gift again, dorkily leaning in to dramatically huff the flowers. His mouth is moving but you're deafened by the sensation of a blush on your face. You thought it was just a silly little crush, because who wouldn’t find Joel attractive. He’s handsome, hard working, and just an all around traditional man. But this attraction… It's like your crush on him has given you tinnitus. His lips are moving and you aren’t registering the words. Wait shit, he’s speaking–

“Darlin’?” Joel calls. He looks at you, head tilted, and still fucking smiling. The way his eyes glimmer, the crows feet that squeeze them into a smile… Why is it so hard to hear him?

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” he repeats. 

—

You’ve never been inside Joel’s house, but you’d never thought about it either. Being in it, now, it all makes sense. Photos of his daughters are framed everywhere, their achievements plastered on the walls in shines of silver and gold. It’s hard not to imagine Joel hunched over his kitchen counter, tediously cutting pictures out to place them in frames. He was only an idea before, an idea of a man, and now he has become one wordlessly. All it took was stepping inside his house, smelling him everywhere. Life dances in the jackets that are tossed over dining room chairs, the toolbelt dumped by the shoe rack at the door. The picture of Joel you held in your mind begins to come alive, the movements in the details of his life stealing your breath. He is more than a good man, he is a great one.

And now, you have to strike up a conversation with him.

Joel grunts as he sits down on the couch beside you, placing two glasses of water down. He places his glass in front of the can of beer sitting on a coaster, distorting the label to nothing but warped blue and red. Is he hiding that he was drinking? Why is that cute? 

A pause hushes both of you as Joel gets comfortable, sitting down. He’s paused a show, but it just looks like it was whatever movie was playing on the local TV channel. 

“You must be so proud of them,” you say, eyes glazing over the pictures of Sarah and Ellie. You can tell exactly which photos were taken with a camera and which were taken with his phone. One picture of Ellie, maybe when she was 13 or 14, is from her soccer tournament. She’s smiling, holding up a ribbon for MVP, and Joel’s thumb is in the bottom corner. It’s strange to realize that Joel has basically been a father twice over, but also admirable. 

He talks for a little while, rambling about Sarah and her time up at college, and also how Ellie has been doing better in school this year. You always had a feeling Ellie was a bit feistier than Sarah was, but to hear how proud Joel is of her anyways makes your heart flutter. His love for them was so unconditional, so why weren’t they here today? You ask him, a half smile crossing his lips as he hears your question.

“Sarah called me ‘round lunchtime, one of them video calls. Had lunch with my girl and got to catch up with her. She’s so damn busy, y’know that? Always studying and,” he catches his breath, realizing he’s blabbing again. A reddish tone creeps up his neck in embarrassment.

“Point is, she called. Was nice of her, I miss her lots,” He finishes quietly.

Your eyebrow raises. He didn’t mention Ellie. Joel huffs.

“I’m 99% sure she’s over at Dina’s making me a gift, but it’s fine that she forgot. I’ve been on her ass about homework, fair’s fair.”

He looks cute when he’s begrudging, one side of his mouth sliding to the side so part of his cheek puffs over it. You nod, making a comment in response. The conversation is so smooth you forget what you’re saying as soon as you’re laughing. 

This is easier than you thought it would be. Joel’s always been friendly, obviously, but you just assumed he would be more closed off than this. Even if it’s just rambling about his daughters, or Tommy, or the jobs he’s been managing and how annoying his clients are, it’s something more. Something more than the passing glances and small conversation you’ve had before.

You talk a bit about your own life, how tough the move to Texas was, how lonely it can be. Joel doesn’t seem as receptive to this, but there’s an understanding in his eyes that you can feel. He’s a tough clam to slide your knife into, and you doubt you’ll feel his tongue today. The eager blabber he has for his family and career doesn’t extend to himself, and it seems you’ve hit a wall with him. Or maybe you’ve hit too close to home. “Sorry,” you say, feeling a little weird. 

This whole day has felt like you’re pulling against a lead Joel wasn’t even holding in the first place, like you’re always doing too much. But just like the rest of the day, he isn’t holding the rope around your neck. He’s surging forward with reassurances blooming out of his mouth, Texas sweet to the bone. 

He shakes his head, telling you that it’s fine, he gets it. A joke about being a single father, a smile directed at you, consoling. Vaporub for your congested anxieties.

“I’m sorry darlin,” Joel starts, and fuck is he sending you home? Is that your cue to leave? You did too much, he was just being nice.

“-- I didn’t even offer you water when you came in. D’you need somethin’ to drink?” He asks.

God, doesn’t he get tired of being this nice? Your neighbors warned you that he was a grump when you first moved here, dirty liars. 

“Oh, sure, uh. Water would be good, thanks,” you reply.

You’re only half paying attention to the grunt he lets out when he gets up the first time, your eyes busying themselves with the way his cotton tee stretches across the muscled planes of his back. But, after he hands you the glass of water and groans when he sinks back into the couch, you notice. 

You down the glass like you’re parched, but really your mouth just needs to be full right now. The sound of his groans are bouncing in your ear canals as your neck flushes red with each gulp of water. If he notices, he doesn’t say anything.

“Bad back?” You ask after you catch your breath. 

He hums in response, talking about how it comes with the job he has. “All that lifting in my early years…” as if he’s a thousand years old. Joel mentions that he’s been to the chiropractor a few times, thanks to Sarah’s begging and pleading.

“I don’t know, I think it’s gimmicky. They get you on the table and the guy feelin’ you up acts like he’s Christ himself,” Joel says, rolling his eyes. 

The idea of Joel, shirtless and face down, grumbling as some guy works his hands over his skin. The idea of Joel groaning in relief as someone else works those knots out, God you wish you were a chiropractor, you wish you could put your hands all over him.

Greed hardens over your mind like a shell, and the words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop them.

“I could– I could help, maybe. My dad used to have a pretty bad back and I kinda figured out how to work knots out.”

Joel’s eyes widen, looking over to you with mild interest. For the first time today, around Joel, you don’t feel like you’ve overstepped. In fact he looks interested in this offer. A beat passes between the two of you, hesitation caught in his throat it seems.

It’s probably super fucked up in his head, his younger neighbor coming over and offering to rub him down. But your mind is still greedy, coated in thoughts of his skin under your palms, and that southern rumble that’s given you dilf earworms.

He looks like he’s about to say no when you speak again.

“You don’t even have to lay down, or take your shirt off. Could just lift it up,” you offer. 

Joel still looks like he’s going to say no, the left side of his mouth raising to make up some reason. You can’t let him, not when you’ve been this ballsy. Walking out of here now would make this infinitely more awkward.

“It’s your day, Joel,” you supply him with a reason to say yes. The reason might be silly, might be a last minute add-on to his father’s day, but who cares.

Apparently not Joel, since he pulls his shirt up to his shoulders, the fabric scrunching around his broad frame.

—

You feel a little stupid, slotted behind Joel on the couch. The two of you are basically shoved up against one another, Joel wriggling to give you access to his lower back. He hasn’t said anything yet, no reassurance that this backrub is any good. You think you’re doing well, you feel the knots loosening. It might be better this way, him not making noise. The groan you heard earlier was more than enough to push you into a frenzy.

Your hands work further down, where his waist begins to pull in. Looking closer you can see where the softness of his tummy is, a fatherly badge of honor. Continuing your movements, you gently press your thumbs into the flesh there, and earn yourself Joel’s first noise.

Not a grunt, groan, complaint, or cuss. A whimper.

Your voice clashes with his, both of you talking over each other accidentally.

“Are you okay–” you ask as his voice flounders again, a “Darlin--” leaving him out of his own volition.

Pulling your hands away you begin to pull his shirt back down his back, mortified. How could you claim you were good at this and then hurt his back more? Joel’s been through enough today.

“Please don’t stop,” Joel’s voice grabs your brain again, forcing your focus.

He’s sliding his shirt up again, just by rolling his shoulders as he hunches over, waiting for you to continue. His face is in his hands, and his ears are pink. It’s the first time he’s asked you for anything tonight, you can’t refuse him. 

Placing your hands back where they were, you begin to massage again. It seems like his lower back is the main problem, with the way he’s grunting into his palms. As your hands work away the aches he begins to swear to himself. 

“Fuck,” he grunts as your thumbs dig deep, soothing a pain he hasn’t felt eased in years. 

This is good. Pride spreads in your chest, knowing he feels better. Your hands work away, and you get laser focused on untangling these massive knots in his back. Eventually you break your focus, switching to softer rubs and small scratches up and down his back.

Tearing your eyes away from his skin, you realize the throw pillow that was beside you earlier is gone. The yellow corner of the cushion peeks at you from where you saw Joel’s belly earlier, over his lap. A thick forearm is crushing it into himself there, the veins in his neck pulsing. 

Flames lick up your face, onto the tips of your ears and down your neck, heating your spine. Is he aroused right now? “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

He shakes his head, voice tight.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. Just– it just feels nice,” he admits.

Your hands pause. Okay, so he’s admitted he’s hard. What do you do now? Keep rubbing his back and blueball the poor guy? On Father's day? That seems mean, and awkward. Everything about this is awkward though, so it couldn’t really get worse.

“I could… I could help it feel better,” you offer meekly.

You’re not scared of a dick. You aren’t. Your voice is quiet because it seems like he is horribly ashamed of this, probably feeling guilty.

Joel rubs a hand over his face.

“You don’t have to, you can just go,” he says, but his voice betrays him. Need is sewn in his tone, a desperation.

Part of you wonders how long it’s been since someone touched him like this as you reach around, palming the front of his jeans. The hiss he lets out tells you it’s been awhile. How wrong that is, an attractive man like Joel being forced to get his own rocks off.

Getting the button and fly of his jeans down is difficult when you can’t see, even worse when your brain is making up images of Joel masturbating. He’s so shy when he’s being touched, does he bite his sheets? Bite his other fist in the shower? Poor boy, he deserves this. 

His hips lift off the couch to help you shove his jeans and briefs down. Joel’s bare ass slides against you and he cringes. “Is it okay if you don’t look?” He asks. 

You hate that he seems so insecure, but you’re not going to push him. Nodding into his skin, you press your face to his back, resting your cheek near the blade of his shoulder. He’s heavy in your palm, warm skin with veins your fingers can trace over.

Telling him that he’s big feels redundant, you’re sure he knows that about himself. Neither of you seem very sure about what you’re doing, the shuddering breaths from his chest matching your hesitant grasp around his cock. 

“Are you okay?” You ask again.

Joel nods into his hand, asking you to please touch him. 

Admittedly, it’s a dry hand job, but Joel doesn’t seem to mind. The flick of your wrist is fluid, even if your arm is cramping from being wrapped around him. Joel lets out these little noises, grunts and whines. His hand is covering his eyes while the other one rests lightly on your forearm, like he wants to know that you’re still there.

Need is exuding from him, making his desperation take over his need to really give a shit about how submissive he might be appearing. He shudders particularly hard as you squeeze on the upstroke, voice choking.

“Shit– shit, please,” he gasps, “please can I spit in your hand?” 

It’s a little surprising, but again, you can’t refuse him. You say “yeah” into his skin, closing your eyes as you feel him spit into your hand. It’s filthy, his saliva on you as he guides your hand to jerk him off. Joel uses your palm to slick the head of his dick, teasing himself on your skin.

It’s the first time you’ve seen him be selfish all day. Part of you wants to call him a good boy, but part of you also knows this might not be normal for Joel. Hell, this isn’t normal for you either. 

Instead, you ask him if it’s good. A rasped “yes,” emanates from him between a low groan and a curse. Your head lifts from his back as he begins to shudder, his orgasm creeping closer. Listening to him is so good, you’re a mess between your legs, where your core nudges his ass.

Without a thought, you sink your teeth into the meat between his shoulder and his neck. Not enough pressure to bruise or hurt, just to let him know you’re there. There was no intention to push him over the edge, but your little bite does. A guttural groan is forced out of him as he comes into your hand, stringing sticky between your fingers. 

“Fuck– fuck I’m sorry, oh my god,” he pants, shivering. 

Your head is shaking again, reassuring him that it was okay, that he’s okay. 

“It’ll wash off,” you joke, feeling the stick of him on you. 

—

Joel does help you wash it off, once he’s done redressing. He’s clingy though, arms around your waist and chin hooked over your shoulder as you wash your hands in his kitchen sink. He’s definitely sleepy, eyes blinking slowly when you peek at him while you dry your hands.

You step close to him, your damp hands meeting his dry ones. The awkward spirit of the evening has been killed off, his shyness melted away.

“Usually I’d offer to return the favor but… I have to pick up Ellie from her friend’s house now. I’m really sorry, darlin’,” he admits.

Shaking your head, you push away the negative feeling that surfaces. How are you supposed to go back to being neighbors after that? But also, what did you really expect?

Joel leads you to the door, legs a bit shakey. A smug feeling joins the negative ones in your chest at that, but it’s not enough. 

“I really do apologize,” Joel says again, “but this just gives me an opportunity to see you again. If you’d like, obviously. I think I owe ya dinner.” 

And there he is, not holding your lead but reassuring your heart. He wants to see you again.

Your eyes meet his in the dim light of the hallway, catching those sweet eyes in your own. He looks so hopeful, so apologetic too.

“I’d like that, but you don’t owe me anything. It’s Father’s day,” you point out. 

Joel rolls his eyes. This Father’s day excuse is a little overused between the two of you now, but it’s still cute to him since you’re the one saying it. He opens the door for you, slipping his own boots on and grabbing his keys.

“Fine,” Joel says, “but when Pretty Neighbor day rolls around, you let me know.

[ireverie]

do you like it, dr. lee?

pairing ↠ jake, jay, jungwon x (f) professor!reader

genre .. warnings ↠ smut, noncon, gangbanging, student x professor, reader is early 30s, they’re all twisted but jay is mean asfk, mentions of infidelity, age gap (18+)

summary ↠ jake, jay, and jungwon are some of the brightest, most accomplished students in your class that never fail to make high marks on the exams. but when they approach you one day in your office, your perspective of them changes dramatically.

wc ↠ 5.4k

a/n ↠ originally posted on my blog revehae, i am not plagiarizing myself. part 2/3 of the in my blood series. as always, feedback is appreciated!

don’t like it, don’t read.

it all happened so fast.

one minute, you were chatting with three of your most wonderful students in your office, and the very next, they had you sprawled out on top of your desk.

your heart was speeding. though you attempted to wrestle your way out of their less than gentle embraces, you couldn’t even take one of them, let alone all three. while somebody was keeping your hands still, another was holding you by the legs.

jay, who had his palm flat over your mouth, only watching your moist, fearfully wide eyes, leaned into your ear and whispered, “scream and we’ll saw your tongue off.”

when he dropped his palm, you sucked in a breath, face tensing with tears as you willed yourself to be compliant. your head was spinning, dizzy with shock. what was happening to you was unfathomable. these boys were some of your favorite students, the ones who never failed to perform magnificently on the exams, and were sparkling in class.

you felt betrayed, in a way. even your worst-performing student wouldn’t stoop this low, and in the midst of your fright, you wondered what you had done to deserve the atrocity that was today. if there was anybody that you could count on to make you feel as if your dedication to this job wasn’t completely useless, it was these boys.

jake was standing just shy of you, eyes fixed to that knee-length skirt he loved watching you wear. jay chuckled when he noticed where his friend’s gaze had fallen, because he found himself glancing there too, but usually when you were facing away from your students.

he always thought about getting you naked, seeing your ass without anything to hinder his view. more often than not, jay fisted himself to the thought of stuffing your ass full of his thick cock, wondering if anybody had ever fucked you there.

snapping out of his imagination, jake approached you, shoving your long skirt closer to your hips. instinctively, the first thing you did was try to protect yourself, but jungwon grabbed you and ceased all control. you slumped, whimpering defeatedly, “boys, please stop. you know that i have a husband.”

jake snickered, amused that that was the card you chose to play. “didn’t really look like you cared about your husband when you were fucking my dad,” he retorted.

rather than beat even quicker, it felt as if your heart stilled. “what?”

jay laughed boisterously. “would you look at that. she thinks you don’t know.”

“that’s right, baby,” jake replied menacingly, nothing affectionate about his tone, in spite of the pet name. “you run your mouth and we’ll make sure the whole school knows that you can’t stop spreading your legs for my father.”

donning the sweetest tone, jungwon crooned in your ear, “and you wouldn’t want that, right, sweetheart? you wouldn’t want mr. lee to know that his wife isn’t satisfied with just his cock, is she now?”

it felt as if the whole world was crumbling beneath your feet. jake was sunghoon’s son, the offspring of the man you had been hooking up with behind your husband’s back, and now he and his friends were threatening to expose your affair if you refused to let them have their way with you.

your lips were trembling. this is all your fault, you chided to yourself. if you could’ve just been a faithful wife, a committed woman, none of this would be happening. they would have nothing against you, nothing that would stop you from reporting to the closest figure of authority. but you had too much at stake.

though you were no stranger to jay’s short patience, you had never seen it manifest quite like this before, gripping your hair so roughly you whimpered in a blend of pain and shock. he growled, “he asked you a question. i shouldn’t have to tell you that that called for an answer.”

“no,” you replied shakily.

jay’s grip only tightened and he pressed, “no, what?”

“no, i don’t want him to know…,” you trailed, because it was humiliating to repeat back aloud, but jay was still gazing at you expectantly. “that i’m not satisfied with just his cock.”

“see, that wasn’t so hard. don’t be a little bitch and make things more complicated than they have to be,” jay said, releasing his hold on your hair. you would’ve fallen back had not jungwon been there to catch you, only to then grab the little buttons on your blouse. “we’re doing you a favor, really. it’s a three for one deal. a little whore like you should be excited.”

but you didn’t want them, you didn’t even want your husband. you wanted sunghoon. it made you wonder how they knew of the affair, because jake seemed oblivious only a couple of weeks ago. he referred to you as some fucking nurse sunghoon had flirted with, not his molecular biology professor.

for fuck’s sake, you were a solid decade older than them. granted, sunghoon was at least a decade older than you, though there was a discernible difference between the age gap between the two of you and the gap between you and your undergraduate students. 

your button-up blouse finally came undone and jungwon didn’t waste a breath before he snatched off your bra, eager to suck your breasts into his mouth. you gasped out when he did, his tongue darting around your nipples. in the same way, jake yanked your panties off, cupping between your legs without a second thought.

never in your life had you felt more defenseless, powerless. stripped of all autonomy and forced to let other people have their wicked ways with you. you felt nothing short of violated and it made you sick to your stomach, gut tossing and churning with reproach.

through your stinging eyes, blurry with hot tears, you watched jake sink to his knees in front of your desk. you weren’t particularly enthusiastic about how exposed you were, your breasts out and your skirt bunched just above your thighs. it felt like the closest thing to walking around the plaza half-naked.

obviously, you felt more watched than you would’ve had it just been one of them, but you were at the mercy of three guys that were paying a godawful amount of attention to your bare figure. jungwon was fixed to your perky chest and jay was watching jake situate himself between your legs, holding them open for his friend in case you wanted to be defiant.

“jake, i don’t want this,” you whined, wiping your face with the back of your hand. 

“that’s too bad, baby.” jake wasn’t even looking at you, gaze locked on your pussy, like that was what you were reduced to. “don’t worry, it’ll feel good.”

you sucked in another gasp when his mouth angled towards your pussy without affording you a notice in advance, your body’s natural instinct being to shut your legs, but jay was still holding them in place and he was infinitely stronger than you. with the vigorous training that it took to be a member of the campus’ athletic teams, it came to you as no shock, but you were heavily disappointed.

jake’s tongue singled out your clit while he lapped at you, ravenous. the second he saw you on the first day of class, he knew that he had to have you. so when he found out that you were sleeping with his father, cheating on your husband with jake’s dad of all people, he became furious. 

neither you or sunghoon were as good at keeping secrets as you thought yourselves to be. on more than one occasion, jake saw you leaving their house. every now and then, he would see your name on his father’s phone. and it wasn’t fair. if anybody could please you, if anybody could bring you to heaven and back, it was the boy with his head buried between your legs.

as if matters couldn’t get any worse, jake actually seemed to know what he was doing. though you would never admit it to his face, the way he was sucking at your bundle of nerves had you throbbing, pulsing involuntarily around nothing. you whimpered and whined, but chewed on your bottom lip to stifle the noise.

jungwon chuckled so quietly it was barely audible, but said nothing as of right now, cupping your tits in his palms and squeezing. his patience was much less limited than jay’s, who was currently shifting out of his boxers, freeing his raging hard cock. you saw him in the corner of your misty eyes, noticing how rigid and thick his cock was, but said nothing.

what you didn’t expect, though probably should have seen coming, was for him to start jacking himself to the sight of you being mishandled. jake wasn’t the only one that couldn’t stop thinking about from the moment you locked eyes. matter of fact, that mutual pining was the common denominator of this little team.

all three of them were sick in the head, out of their minds obsessed with you. you would have expected some lethal kind of rivalry to develop out of that, but instead, they were much more menacing about it. they were helping each other get what they wanted.

you were a little overwhelmed from all the attention and jay wasn’t even touching you, but just knowing that he was stroking his cock for you was more than a little unnerving. jungwon’s hands were so strangely gentle, setting a pattern as he groped you, all the while jake was eating you out vigorously.

“pretty, pretty. so pretty when you cry,” jungwon sang in a way that could’ve been kind, if you ignored the nature of what was happening to you. then, like he knew your secret and was implying that he wouldn’t tell, he whispered for only your ears, “pretty when you lie, too.”

it wasn’t fair. you didn’t want to like this, just like how you didn’t want to be aroused. but when jake pushed a pair of fingers inside of your pussy you gushed and tightened around his digits. you were so unstill, it drove him mad, prompting him to go harder.

your brain was empty but racing all the while, thinking, this is so fucking wrong. you were fucking his father, for crying out loud, and even that was wrong. you didn’t care then, so according to their logic, it shouldn’t have made a difference now.

jake and jay’s grunts blended into one giant cacophony of sound, jake moaning with a mouthful of pussy because he couldn’t get enough of the way you tasted and your pussy was spasming around his digits, whereas jay was grunting because he thought you were most right now when you were deprived of all control.

blood was pumping quicker than ever through your veins, your heart screaming for survival. you weren’t even remotely in control of your own body anymore, seized not only by your three reckless students, but the pleasure burning through you like wildfire.

your office, that was typically admirably ventilated, seemed to hot to breathe in. but your breaths became quicker and shorter, as if there was no space in your lungs, and you started to feel the sweat cooling down your back, reminding you of how naked you were.

jake was so hard, stiffening in his pants the longer he watched you start to unravel, and he could’ve probably gotten off just from making you cum. you were grinding your hips against his mouth, and his long, slender fingers that were surely getting you there. you might not have wanted to confess the truth, but your body couldn’t lie.

“she’s so close,” jay commented with a chuckle, addressing you as if you weren’t even there. “fuck, i am too.”

a hole of negative emotions opened then and there and swallowed you whole, namely guilt and humiliation. you didn’t want jake to make you cum, you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of bringing you pleasure, but that ship had already sailed. 

nonetheless, you parted your lips and begged in between shaky moans, “jake, stop. please, i’m begging you!”

“he’s not going to stop, sweetheart,” jungwon crooned, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear. “don’t you see? he can’t get enough of your pretty pussy. you should feel so good about yourself.”

few things in life had ever made you feel this conflicted. on the one hand, this was degrading on way too many levels and you felt forcibly stripped of all of your dignity. but on the other, deep down inside, the sight of jake with his head between your thighs as he licked and sucked at your cunt was inexplicably arousing.

and that did it for you. you tried to fight it, you really did, but your orgasm completely blindsided you, taking you by the reins and going to town. your lips parted in a cry of jake’s name, your thighs trembling and heat striking through you like lightning as you gripped onto jungwon for dear life.

jake continued to go down on you after you orgasmed, just until you finished more or less riding his face, going limp against your desk with only jungwon to keep you upright. you couldn’t breathe, you couldn’t think. all the blood was rushing to your head and your heart was thumping in your ears.

jake finally pulled back, licking your arousal off of his lips and the corners of his mouth in a way that made your core throb emptily, then asked, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

your ears burned and you said nothing, because there was nothing that needed to be said. your answer was in the way your chest heaved like unstill waters, your fingers still holding onto jungwon’s shirt. like you thought you would collapse if you had nothing to anchor yourself.

jungwon took one glance at you and scoffed, “i think she loved it, man.”

there was something so smug in jake’s stare, like he just knew that he had you.

when jake moved, jay came between your spread legs, still holding his cock while he stroked himself to climax in front of you. like it would never be satisfied, your pussy continued to throb at the sounds you were indirectly plucking out of him, culminating in one deep, guttural growl when he came, shooting his load on your cunt.

though you were (thank god) on birth control, him orgasming there still made you feel iffy. you could feel it trickling down into your hole and hated how eager it seemed to be filled. for half a second, you were convinced that was the worst that could happen.

imagine your shock when jungwon abandoned your boobs, soft and supple as they were, and shifted between your thighs next. you didn’t know what to expect when you noticed him move, they enjoyed keeping you guessing, but it definitely wasn’t for jungwon to lick at your release-stained pussy.

you gasped, “jungwon!”

the sound of him sucking and licking at your clit was lewd, and there were long, damp lines being made with his flattened tongue. while you were appalled, the other watched in amusement how jungwon unabashedly more or less ate jay’s cum from your hole in a disturbing licking pattern. because where it was a nightmare for you, it was just one giant game to them.

to say nothing of the fact that you had only just orgasmed, sensitive. your thighs couldn’t handle the stimulation and you let out a breath of relief when his mouth separated from you, only for him to stand and force his lips against yours. you resisted, jolting away from him, but your attempts to evade him were in vain.

jungwon didn’t even need to grab your face to keep you still, because there was nowhere for you to hide. it was a disgusting, messy kiss, given that you were adamant on pushing him off. only so much of it was your fault though. jungwon liked it messy, liked how repulsed you were. he liked the grimace you were sporting and the blend of jay’s cum and saliva dribbling down your chin. the damp spots of his saliva on your cheek from your attempts to dodge him and where his tongue pressed against you instead.

it was nauseating to you. you could taste jay’s cum on your tongue, even though his cock hadn’t been anywhere near your mouth. and the the taste just wouldn’t go away.

jungwon, at last, pulled back, though only to laugh at the look on your face. “aw, don’t make that face. you liked it, right?”

you parted your lips to say deny him, but jungwon saw it coming and just kissed you again, not one to take no for an answer.

“okay, move your ass,” jake said after a minute of watching you squirm. you never realized how strong jungwon was.

jungwon frowned, but moved out of the way. not because jake told him to, but because he had something equally devious running through his brain.

you were baffled when you noticed jake returning between your thighs, because he should’ve already had his fill. then, you noticed that he had freed his cock from his boxers in the time jungwon spent sucking on your tongue, and swallowed the lump in your throat.

you let out a cry of shock when they spread you over your desk the long way, carelessly toppling over your belongings, and yanked your skirt off your body completely. you were utterly naked, and there was no bit of you they hadn’t seen.

jake positioned himself behind you, lining himself up at your entrance. there was so much terror in your body at the moment, scared not only for what was to come, but of liking it too.

“please,” you begged, trying to negotiate once more. “you boys should fool around with someone your own age.”

jake snickered, as if that was funny. he probably thinks it is. “maybe, but where’s the fun in that?”

your jaw slacked when his first thrust drew a pitched cry from the back of your throat. he wasn’t even half as patient as his father would be to sheathe himself completely. sunghoon would take his time, wallowing in your wetness just before slowly but steadily filling you, inch by fucking inch. jake, on the other hand, went straight for the kill.

but to your horror, you were soaked enough for him to slip right in smoothly, to say nothing of jay’s leftover cum facilitating the process. jake was girthy like sunghoon too, in spite of all of their stark differences, and you hated that it was so familiar how he was stretching you out.

“wait,” you whimpered, fingers clamping aggressively against the edges of your desk. “jake, please. you don’t need to do this.”

irritated, jay nudged jungwon, groaning, “will you shut her up already?”

“gladly,” jungwon chirped, a devilish little smile tugging at his lips.

you lifted your head up when you heard jungwon approaching the side of your desk that you were facing, watching him shuffle out of his pants and boxers, and you quickly started to flail. jake grabbed your neck, lowered his head, and hissed, “behave, or we’ll have to tell the class that their favorite professor is just a slutty little whore.” 

you stilled, remembering what was at stake. it wasn’t just your career, but sunghoon’s too. the second it got out that the two of you were involved in an affair, you knew you would both have to answer for your sins.

when jungwon finally got his underwear off, lengthy hard cock standing angrily against his stomach, he positioned himself beside your mouth and crooned, “say ‘ah.’”

“i don’t want to,” you whimpered.

jay crept over, evidently disgruntled, and there was a resounding smack when his palm landed flat against your cheek. “one more thing from you and your husband’s gonna get a nice surprise in his email,” he warned.

defeated, you silently opened your mouth, letting jungwon push himself to the back of your throat. he let out a pleasant little sigh, eyes fluttering closed, paying no attention to the tears dripping down your cheeks. your mouth was too warm for him to a give damn whether or not you wanted this, to care about what you were feeling.

all the while, jake’s hands were bruising your hips with the merciless grip he had of them. unlike you, his moans were unrestrained, never shy to reveal the ecstasy making his blood pump and his dick throb. you were so wet, so tight, everything he imagined tenfold. his father didn’t deserve you, not in his opinion. everything sunghoon could do, jake was certain that he could do better, even if you didn’t want to confess.

even if he was a lot less caring than his dad would present. you didn’t know sunghoon, not like you thought. the dark side jake had didn’t just come out of nowhere. though you would never realize, there was a clear reason why jake was so sick in the head, especially when it came to you. why he took great delight in forcing you over your desk, stuffing you full of his cock and listening to you cry, struggling to hide that you loved his cock.

“he doesn’t love you, you know,” jake said none too gently, snickering from between your legs. “i hope you realize you’re just another easy whore. not the first, not the last.”

there was so much going on that you were hoping you could somehow detach yourself from the brutal reality. not only was your body overloaded, but your mind and soul, ripping a hole right through all that you thought to be true.

it was all too fucking much. “your mouth feels so good,” jungwon exhaled, a hand tangled through your hair.

“you should feel her pussy. she’s so fucking wet, dude. and she thinks we’re going to buy that she’s not begging for this,” jake replied, completely degrading. 

jungwon chuckled breathlessly. you were sucking it out of him, against your will or not. “yeah, i can hear how wet she is.”

jay said nothing, but you were already too overwhelmed to notice his absence in the conversation. he was engrossed in thought, waiting with staggering patience for his own turn. which wasn’t typical for him at all. he swore, when he was done with you, you weren’t even going to think for weeks. 

between jake’s twisted smack of his hips against yours and the way jungwon was unabashedly using your mouth to get off, you couldn’t decide which was more brutal. torture was torture, but if it was meant to be so bad, there shouldn’t have been moans slipping from your mouth uncontrollably. there shouldn’t have been a familar weight sitting in the pit of your stomach, waiting to wreck you.

“i know you love this,” jake said, maybe project just a little, but the body didn’t lie and he could feel you tightening. “i know you love this fucking dick. wish i could hear you say it, baby.”

“that can be arranged,” jungwon quipped, but it took you by surprise when he actually pulled his cock from your mouth. “c’mon, angel. tell jake how much you love his dick.”

your face flushed with humiliation, but you knew what would happen if you failed to comply. “i...,” you started, hesitant. “i love your dick, jake.”

jake smacked your ass, making you stifle a scream. “again.”

you cried out, “i love your dick!”

“i know,” jake said, sickeningly confident in himself. “i also know that you’re about to cum.”

it was maddening that your husband of ages could hardly even get you off these days but some students in your class were recognizing the signs in record time. you were also ashamed with yourself for being so aroused, for needing to orgasm this badly, but you forfeited control of yourself moments ago.

jungwon had enough and once his dick started to twitch desperately, he shoved his cock back into your mouth, chasing relief for the raging hard-on you’d given him. rather than you sucking him off, it was more of him relentlessly fucking your throat, not stopping when you gagged.

and it wasn’t long before the three of you ultimately came, like a chain of dominoes collapsing after each other. this orgasm was just as powerful as the one that came before, the room reeling as your screams were muffled against jungwon’s stiff cock. your whole body was a thousand degrees hotter. jungwon’s warm cum releasing in your mouth while jake’s seeped deeply into your pussy.

although you tried to swallow jungwon’s cum, per his request, some of it dripped onto the floor. you were terrified of leaving evidence of this encounter, wishing you would’ve gulped it all back, but then you felt jake’s cum leaking out of you and your priorities shifted.

“my turn,” jay said, though that was a given. you were confused when he started to spread jake’s cum over your asshole, though for the longest you could feel his stare burning through your backside.

baffled, and maybe somewhat startled, you asked, “jay, what are you doing?”

“shut the fuck up,” jay snapped belligerently, smacking his palm harshly against your cunt. you cried out in pain, unexpecting. “i’m tired of hearing your voice. just take it.”

but nothing could have prepared you for what was to come. nothing could have prepared you for the merciless way he penetrated your ass, effectively knocking the wind out of you. you felt like you couldn’t breathe, as if all the air in the sky was stolen and hid in this little box somewhere.

you wanted to scream, you wanted to beg for forgiveness for whatever you had done, but no sound would come from your mouth. there was only instant tears, your hands gripped the rim of your desk for purchase. the makeup you were wearing was ruined ages ago, but it had to have looked despicable now, because you were sobbing harder than ever.

“poor thing.” jungwon frowned, pretending to be compassionate. that was something he was good at, you realized. he had you fooled until you saw how recklessly he fucked your throat, and you came to accept they were all too alike.

“she’ll be, fuck, fine,” jay groaned, careless. he was the roughest of the bunch, the most antagonistic. “this hole is so fucking tight.”

jay was pressing you against the desk harder than jake had, roughly mishandling you. it was obvious that jay didn’t see you as his equal. when it came to you, all he gave a damn about was passing your class and fucking your ass.

never in your life had anyone ever fucked you there before, and the thought hadn’t even crossed your mind. you were so repulsed, choking on your own feelings as they killed you slowly. the pain was unbearable, making it impossible to remain still, but that didn’t matter when jay had you borderline flattened.

it was almost awe-inducing how he held you down with ease, regardless of how strong you thought you were and how violently you were reacting. it was the closest thing to being split open. pitiful little noises escaped you, but you bit them back, because the last thing you wanted was to get caught. somehow, though, the shock was more agonizing than the pain itself.

your agonized whimpers and jay’s husky grunts made an awkward cacophony. if there was any of them that got off to your helplessness, you knew it was all of them, but jay had to wallow in it more than either of them.

jake and jungwon were stroking their cocks to the sight of you being ravaged to the point of total destruction. there were plenty of times in your life where you felt nothing short of broken, but this was a different variant, a kind from which you knew that you would never recover.

jay couldn’t believe his thick cock was even fitting into your tight, flexing asshole, though then again, whatever you thought you couldn’t take, jay would make you do. your body was for his own personal amusement. he leveraged himself deeper and deeper, groaning and laughing, using you to his advantage. because what jay wanted, he always got. every time without fail. obviously, you were no exception to this pattern, even if it was to your own dismay.

your lip was bleeding from how frequently you were biting. all you wanted was to protect your reputation. you had things to lose, things you knew jay would steal away from you in a heartbeat, because all he did was take.

“she’s such a damn whore, fuck. she should be grateful i’m fucking her,” jay hissed, aggressive.

given how much you had heard adjacent statements in the past hour, you were starting to believe them, no matter how disparaging they were. you were accepting the cold truth, that this was your punishment for being unfaithful.

quickening his pace, jay continued, “i’ve never wanted to fuck that nasty little pussy of hers. not when everybody’s been inside of it. but i can tell she’s never had this ass stretched before.”

his words were hurting more than his cruel movements, and you didn’t understand the science behind that. you whined, “jay.” please, have mercy, was what you wanted to say, but you knew there was no point.

jay squeezed your neck, cutting off your ability to inhale, and you felt every nerve in your body start to panic. “for the umpteenth time, shut the fuck up. no one’s fucking talking to you, bitch.”

you quieted, face tensing with delirious pain. 

“pathetic if you ask me,” jake added, breath shaky. “her husband’s dick isn’t good enough for her, so she fucks my dad, and now that we give her three more, she still has the audacity to complain.”

jungwon snorted. “textbook cockslut.”

you wanted to speak, you were desperate to defend your honor and identity, but you had already said enough and you were lucky that they hadn’t already decided to expose you to the whole planet. you had no defenses against them, nothing in your arsenal. 

“begging us to stop, but she won’t stop fucking cumming. needy little bitch,” jay chided, though judging from his breathlessness, he was far from disgruntled.

jungwon chortled, his cock still close to your face, and it was making you mildly uncomfortable. “maybe we should send her back to the husband with some tips.”

“oh, i’ve got one,” jake said, beaming with his usual mischief. “hold her down and use her little holes until you’re done.”

“yeah, looks like she loves that,” jungwon retorted. 

jay quipped, “we should’ve recorded. maybe showed him a tutorial.”

jake blew out a contented sigh. “well, there’s always next time.”

your heart was taut with fear at the thought of there being a next time, but the three of your students were grinning with excitement, as if they wholly anticipated reliving this moment in the not so distant future.

“fuck, i’m gonna cum,” jay grunted, wanting to go even deeper, but there was nowhere for him to move. 

jake hummed, reminiscing over how good it felt to cum inside of your throbbing pussy. how you milked the cum out of him, bled him dry. “shame she’s on birth control. i overheard her and my dad talking,” he replied, nonchalant. “imagine if we got her pregnant.”

“man, don’t talk like that,” jay groaned. 

jake glanced to jungwon, both of them snickering amongst each other. “dude, i was just kidding. don’t tell me that’s actually getting your dick hard.”

“fuck, i’m gonna…”

the most delicious growl came from the tip of jay’s tongue when he released inside of your asshole, his brows scrunching together with pleasure. his hips finally grinded to a halt when he met his climax, dumping way too much of his load inside. you could feel his fingertips leaving marks that would indefinitely stain your skin, and you dreaded having to explain them to your husband.

when jay finally pulled away from you, having had his fill for now, your body went limp against your desk. you could have moved, but you were too exhausted. sweat cooled down your back, chilling you to shudders, but there wasn’t a single thought in your head. all you could do was lie there, used and exploited, hoping that life would return to the way you knew it before they broke you.

because right now, it was bland. the only thing you could feel was the soreness in your legs and the cum dripping from your hole, numbing yourself to everything else.

there was so patronizing about the way jay turned to you, asking with the slyest grin on his face, “did you like it, dr. lee?”

TAGLIST: @ribbioniki, @yunakj, @vvenusoncasual, @lovingvoidgoatee , @iloveu-143, @bigwforjay, @hooniehon, @adoredbyjay, @cloud-lyy, @firstclassjaylee, @captainsaposts, @tinycatharsis

[writersdrug]

For the alpha/omega one, forced proximity on one of his missions he gets sent on, and she is basically standard issue along with his weapon. She’s around his stuff/in his bunk 24/7, her sent slowly permeating everything, eventually his mask, driving him crazy/rut if that’s interesting. She gets captured, he starts to realize how much he’d unconsciously relied on her, goes feral, tears enemy base apart and she nurses him back to health? Hehehehe I love feral könig

Oh, he's pissed.

Warnings: mentions of violence, attempted sexual assault (very minor and brief, guy gets what's coming to him)

When Ridgeback had informed the team that they had a new assignment, König was sighing in relief. Finally, a moment away from that damned omega. A chance to prove that he didn't need some weak, not-so-self-sustainable thing to "improve his performance" (if anything, you were just making him grumpier, with how often you complained about the standard-issued nesting material. He already said he'd buy you some new blankets, ok?!).

But then, Ridgeback announced that any partners belonging to the soldiers would be included on the deployment. Meaning omegas. Meaning you.

You weren't happy, either. You thought you were going to get an entire two weeks to yourself, including the entirety of König's room and bathroom and a chance to roll around in his clothes and scent uninterrupted. You'd get to chat it up with the sweet beta corporals that accompanied you to the mess hall in your Alpha's absence. But now? Being flown out to god-knows-where with König, a.k.a. Chuckles? With even fewer nesting materials of an even lesser quality? Great. Just perfect.

König hated how you were everywhere. He hated how your scent, ocean breeze and warm sandalwood, had clung to every article of clothing he owned. He hated how you built your (rather lackluster) nest in the top bunk with a literal wall of pillows around you - he wasn't even in there with you, why were you adding insult to injury? He hated that you were even here in the first place. Who's idea was this?! Now he has to growl at anybody that approaches his table in the dingy cafeteria where the two of you eat in silence, or sit in in the briefing room with you squished to near death in the corner, just to keep you away from other alphas. Not to mention, projecting his scent to cover yours is very inconvenient, you should really stop smelling so nice.

It was a breath of fresh air when they finally landed at the objective rally point for the mission - but the gunshots and acrid smell of blood did little to drown out the thoughts of you. What were you doing without him there to scowl at you? He didn't like the idea of some random beta from this random base taking you to meals, but it was better than an Alpha, he supposed. Your scent clung to his mask, and although it made his senses keener and sharper, he really wished it would just go away, so he could stop thinking of you and focus on the mission. Thankfully, it didn't last too long.

Thank goodness he was still in overdrive when the heli touched base, though - because he quickly found out that you were not where you should be: in his room. He'd have half a mind to think you ran off to do your own thing, if it wasn't for the sour scent in the room, rather than your usual sweet, slightly angry notes. You didn't leave intentionally.

Everyone was instantly on edge when he burst out of the room, nostrils flaring and pupils shrunken in his rage. Horangi rushed after him as König stormed throughout the base, following the trail of your scent (he has to make sure his friend doesn't kill anyone - innocent, that is). He hadn't claimed you yet; a decision he was regretting more and more by the second. What kind of Alpha was he? Leaving you alone on a foreign base without a nice, toothy mark on your neck. No, he didn't need you (🙄), but you were his. He should have made that clear. He didn't like it when people tried to take his omega.

It didn't take long before he heard you - some idiot Alpha had dragged you into the back of a humvee, and König could see your limbs kicking and scratching underneath the man (who had a decent, bloody scratch on his face - good on you). Your snarls and hisses echoed through the cracked windows - which König promptly shattered as he smashed his arm through it, grabbing the sergeant by his collar and pulling him out through the broken glass. You suddenly froze at the sound of the man being punched relentlessly, smelling a familiar cinnamon, woodsmoke, and earth, combined with the smell of blood. König's scent smelled like straight blood when he was angry, and it was terrifying, even to you.

Horangi was quick to interject König and his death sentence to the sergeant, pulling him off of the smaller Alpha - a bold move, even dangerous, but their pack bond was thicker than iron, and König wouldn't mistakenly swing on his friend.

Horangi shoved König back, muttering a quick "get your omega", before pulling the now-unconscious sergeant up by his armpits. "I'll do something with him."

König took a moment to clear his head, breathing in deeply and exhaling through clenched teeth. He then moved to the other side of the car with stride, yanking open the back passenger door and reaching in. You made a sound, a frightened squeak, still alert and cautious, as he promptly dragged you out from the back seat. After a quick brush of your clothes with his hand, making sure there's no lingering shards of glass on you, he tossed you over his shoulder with a grunt and made back for the barracks, leaving Horangi to deal with the soldier.

You assumed you're in deep waters with him now. König didn't say a word to you, just stormed through the halls and huffed at anyone he passes. You were a bit embarrassed by the whole ordeal: you had been dragged out, kicking and screaming (and gave a proper, internal fuck you to the surrounding personnel that did nothing) from the barracks, and now here you were, being dragged right back in - just without the protest.

He reached your shared quarters and shoved his bulky frame inside, kicking the door shut behind him. You were about to explain yourself when he slipped you off of his shoulder and put you back on your feet - then promptly leaned down and shoved his face into your neck, inhaling rather obnoxiously while gripping you by your arms. You whined at the sudden, atypical behavior, gently pushing against his chest to get away from the behemoth of a man. He ignored it, picking you up again and carrying you into his bunk bed. He drags you in between himself and the wall, chuffing when you fit so nicely against his frame. Had you always been so comfortable? Why didn't someone convince him to hold you like this sooner?

You, on the other hand, were not as comfy. This wasn't your nest - you didn't have that stupid, grey, felt blanket that was five feet too long, nor the extra pillows you had stolen from the empty room across the hall. You didn't have your border, your flimsy wall of protection against the rest of the world. You squirmed in König's grip, shoving against his taut abdomen and trying to climb over him. He growled, a sound that had you bristling for a moment, but you pushed past it.

"Gimme a sec-"

"Schatz, please-"

"Just a minute!"

He huffed and let you go; you scrambled over him and out of his bed, the thick, muscular cords of his abdomen tensing as you used it to support your weight. He lay on his back and sighed. He just saved you from some cocksure, weaker Alpha - weren't you thankful? I mean, really - this was truly insulting. Here he was (oh, look, his fist was bleeding from smashing the car window, didn't that show you he was a good protector? A good mate?), fresh off of deployment, fighting the demons of the world just for you, and you had the audacity to turn your nose away from him and shuffle back to your precious little nest. How sweet of you. Very appreciative, liebe. Why don't you-

He was torn from his thoughts when a blanket was tossed over him. He pulled it back, confused, as he felt you shoving pillows into his side. You tucked them around him, forming a barrier around the side of him that was closest to the edge of the bed. He watched as you fussed for a bit, beating and fluffing the pillows until they were just right. You then tossed one more onto the bed - one that was wearing his shirt as a case, which had him melting - and climbed overtop of him again.

His chest rumbled with an affectionate sound as you took a damp bathroom towel and began wrapping it around his busted hand. You held it against your chest as you curled into his side once more, not protesting or scrunching your face when he wrapped his other hand around your waist and rubbed your back. He preened when he felt the reverberations of your purr against his hand, your sweet scent filling the air and causing him to relax his shoulders and neck muscles. It permeated his brain and made his Alpha sigh with relief, happiness, and satisfaction. Your scent was finally untainted by that bitter, angry note that you usually had.

"Thanks for... today." you said, deciding to leave the details unspoken. "Sorry about the-"

"Don't be sorry." he rumbled, rubbing his thumb back and forth across your lower back. "I'm sorry I wasn't there."

"You couldn't be."

"Well, now I am."

You sighed, letting your eyes flutter shut. He's not so bad... getting sent off by my family to some random military company was bad, sure, but... my Alpha's a good one. This could be good.

"You're purring very loudly, schatz."

"Shut up."

[junabuggy]

Hazbin Hotel crew x Reader: general fluff hcs

A/n: 100+ follower special !!

I’ve been doing a lot of headcanons lately so I pinky promise there’ll be some kind of oneshot coming soon 🙏

Warnings: None !! Just some good old fashioned fluff :3

Fluff✔️ Comfort❌ Angst❌ Smut❌

‧₊˚✧ Alastor ✧˚₊‧

📻𖤐 When Alastor forms a close bond with you (and I’ve mentioned this before), he’d want to spend more time with you. Even if that’s just sitting in silence together and reading your own separate books

📻𖤐 Who knows? Maybe he’d let you lean against him, head on his shoulder, as he reads to you?

📻𖤐 This guys primary love language is quality time for sure. A close second perhaps acts of service.

📻𖤐 Biggest mamas boy ever…. But I’m sure we all knew that already

📻𖤐 LOVES to go on walks with you, especially during the afternoon or at night.

📻𖤐 Would link your arm with his and chat with you as you went on your daily stroll together… you’re not quite sure when it became a routine but it did.

📻𖤐 Huuuggeee story teller

📻𖤐 100% laughs at dad jokes and will also make them from time to time

📻𖤐 Always winning every single IDGAF war because he genuinely, wholeheartedly, just doesn’t give two shits 💀💀

📻𖤐 Can’t swim. I don’t know how to explain why I think this but I just KNOW its true

📻𖤐 Freezes like a deer in headlights (quite literally) when you shine a bright enough light at him

‧₊˚✧ Angel Dust ✧˚₊‧

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Angel would be the absolute BEST at giving out hugs oh my goddd, he’s got six arms for a reason, baby !

🕸️ᥫ᭡ I feel like he’d have fun dancing !! (I mean “Loser, Baby” was enough evidence for me)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Competitive as fuck, UNO would actually be so fun with him 😭 (gets so genuinely excited when he wins too, gloating about it and everything like he just won the lottery)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Biggest shoplifter ever and most of the time it’s not even because he can’t afford it, he just does it for fun.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Smells realllyyy good all the time, he’s got the best perfumes ever

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Spa-days/Self-care days quickly become a Saturday night thing for you two once you become one of his besties. And I’m talking the whole shabang like face masks, candles lit and snack tray out as he paints your nails for you 💕

🕸️ᥫ᭡ It’s something Angel genuinely looks forward to as well (ᵒ̴̶̷᷄⩊ᵒ̴̶̷᷅)

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Primary love language is most likely physical touch, we’ve all seen how touchy he can get 🤞

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Getting to know his real name and getting to call him by it means he trusts you a lot, he doesn’t give that privilege out to just anybody.

🕸️ᥫ᭡ On a less serious note, he’s definitely a huge show off 💀💀

🕸️ᥫ᭡ Amazing at doing makeup, will do your makeup if you asked him to (might accidentally poke you in the eye or something though lmfaoo)

‧₊˚✧ Husker ✧˚₊‧

🍺🃁 Needs glasses and HAS them but just doesn’t wear them for whatever reason. He looks good in them though !!

🍺🃁 Cheats in any card game ever. Wins 9/10 against you because of that reason (he’s also a gambler so that’s a big factor as well obviously)

🍺🃁 Bros the type of guy to call you “doll” and “baby”

🍺🃁 Primary love language?? quality time 🙏 🙏acts of service and physical touch are both tied for second place (but you only ever really get the physical touch one if you’re his s/o)

🍺🃁 Again, we all saw “Loser, Baby” this mf can DANCE and he enjoys it too

🍺🃁 Jazz is one of Huskers favourite music genres for sure

🍺🃁 You two don’t really have a routine hangout type thing but he does enjoy it when you come around to the bar to just hang out with him while he cleans and whatnot :3

🍺🃁 Trust, you will be given a specialized nickname just for you once he considers you a close friend of his.

🍺🃁 He’s a great listener but gives very blunt advice, doesn’t sugarcoat shit if you ask him for his opinion on something.

🍺🃁 Weirdly caught up with mental health stuff, like he knows a lot about it

🍺🃁 Poor Husker does NOT like the cat noises he makes but he literally cannot control them 😭😭 (believe me, he’s tried)

‧₊˚✧ Vaggie ✧˚₊‧

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is NOT a morning person, usually sleeps in until around noon

🗡️☪︎ Would have good fashion taste

🗡️☪︎ Vaggie is also a very competitive UNO player, probably ends up yelling at Alastor for making her pick up all those “pick up four” cards when everyone plays together (yes, he looks smug as fuck while doing it and yes he was saving them just for her 💀💀)

🗡️☪︎ Has beef with almost all of the guys at the hotel but Husker is chill for the most part

🗡️☪︎ Adding onto that last one, it doesn’t really take much for a man to piss her off tbh (she’s so real for this)

🗡️☪︎ Would spar with you if you asked and gets really into it too !! She’s careful not to actually hurt you though and it’s a great way of bonding with her (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

🗡️☪︎ Verrryyyyy jealous girl, remember when Emily took Charlie’s hands in the heaven episode?? (The look on her face made me giggle)

🗡️☪︎ Hates pickles. She just looks like she’d be a pickle hater

🗡️☪︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation

‧₊˚✧ Charlie ✧˚₊‧

⭐️☀︎ Charlie is infact a morning person and wakes up at the crack of dawn everyday for zero reason whatsoever 💀

⭐️☀︎ She does her absolute best to include everyone in every activity going on, she doesn’t ever want anybody in the hotel to feel excluded

⭐️☀︎ Biggest shipper EVER. You ever told her you have a crush on someone here?? Oh god..

⭐️☀︎ She’ll silently fan girl from a distance whenever you and your crush are together to the point Vaggie has to drag her away

⭐️☀︎ Charlie can be a little bit overwhelming at times but her happiness is suppeerrr contagious

⭐️☀︎ The best way to spend time and bond with her?? Literally just offer to do anything with her and she’ll do it, I don’t think she’s too picky

⭐️☀︎ Learnt some Spanish from Vaggie and tries to use it with her to be all romantic but her pronunciations are fucked up (She’s trying her hardest guys okay 😞🙏)

⭐️☀︎ Totally asked Vaggie one time as a pick up line if she fell from heaven and she broke out into a sweat (poor girl)

⭐️☀︎ Primary love language is words of affirmation. quality time is somewhere up there too though

⭐️☀︎ Will break out into song a lot and it’s kinda funny to watch

‧₊˚✧ Niffty ✧˚₊‧

🧼𐙚 Acts a lot like a hyperactive toddler on crack. Has zero chill and it’s pretty rare to see her actually calm

🧼𐙚 I think Niffty lowkey has stage freight, like we all see how she just automatically freezes up when a camera is on (I mean it’s happened twice in the show already)

🧼𐙚 Takes a lot after Alastor, sees him as some sort of older brother figure as well 😞🩵

🧼𐙚 When playing UNO, she’d fucking EAT the cards so she’d win. Deadass just nom nom nom that shit

🧼𐙚 She’s a big giggler, she’ll laugh and giggle at almost everything so it’s not hard to get her to do so

🧼𐙚 She’d probably really enjoy it if you let her just sit with you for a while and braid your hair (But she’d steal some for her “collection” in the process)

🧼𐙚 I’m actually not too sure what Nifftys love language would even be? Perhaps acts of service (she is a maid, after all)

🧼𐙚 Okay 99% sure this is actually canon but she’s a hardcore germophobe, can’t handle when things are cluttered or a mess.

🧼𐙚 Has a collection of cleaning supplies in her room

+ Bonus !!

‧₊˚✧ Vox ✧˚₊‧

📺☆ Whenever Vox is sleeping or thinking really hard about something, the voxtek symbol will bounce around on his screen like the DVD logo thing

📺☆ Not very big on pda, he has an image to uphold, after all. (But he would enjoy affection in private though)

📺☆ Not above watching you through whatever technology you have, he spies on you a lot 💀💀

📺☆ Also guys…… stop pretending Vox isn’t a whiny little bitch, because he is (trust me y’all, read some of @bigfatbimbo’s stuff)

𝐏𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞, 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 ◟( ˃̶͈◡ ˂̶͈ )◞

ᯓ★ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐠𝐠𝐲

[hana-no-seiiki]

OKAI THE BRAINROT IS NOT GOING AWAY IM INDULGING IT

LEGITIMATELY REWATCHED A FEW SECONDS OF CHAT NOIR AND WAS LIKE GODDAMN I WANT TO SEE THE ROBINS WITH THIS SLUT BEHAVIOR AAAAA

anyways

pairings: yandere! batfam x cat villain! reader.

just a little snippet im too lazy for more huhu

the real reason why some of the boys coveted the robin position so much wasn’t cause it gave them batman’s attention

no no no

it was because it meant that you would be inevitably be their rival and, if they’re charming enough, your friend.

you were harmless in the grand scheme of things, helpful in some cases. very much like your mentor, catwoman. only with a much more heavy appetite for chaos and being slutty around the robins and the robins alone

you didn’t care who it was under the mask, if they did not don it anymore you wouldn’t care less about them.

which brings us to our current situation

damian wayne was your latest victim. so far your favorite prey of all those that previously had his spot.

he was everything you liked about the domino masked hero: sassy, controlling, and ever so quick to take the bait that is your teasing.

but a small, itsy bitsy mistake on your part caused him to get horridly injured.

as such you took it upon yourself to take care of him that night.

he kept rattling on about “not needing your pity.” or how “a heinous criminal like you shouldn’t be even touching him” as if you two didn’t wrestle in more ways than one on the regular.

of course you ignored his pleas like always and healed him up

“why are you doing this? if not pity then—“ damian cursed as pain shot through his entire body. every time he was getting on your nerves by speaking too much you’d often dig into him harshly with your gauze.

“i wouldn’t want our chase to be over before you catch me.” you breathed out, wincing at all the blood before you.

heroes and vigilantes alike often dehumanized you. would say that you were some heartless, ruthless criminal with no regard nor compassion for anybody but yourself. but you could never get used to the blood and violence it took for you to get what you want — what you needed.

selina said that was your best trait

“after all, don’t you enjoy proving those stupid do gooders wrong?”

she’d say

you smile as you remembered the times you’d tease his predecessors. how you’d shower them with love, how you’d endear yourself to them. your little birdies til they weren’t. it’s amazing how blinded by love they were. they never even began to think that your flighty nature was the one at fault and not theirs for failing to keep their occupation.

perhaps you should thank bruce for his shitty parenting techniques.

damian never really thought much of you. he knew of tim’s little stalking hobby, of jason’s bloody shows of affection, of dick’s reckless attitude whenever you two fought. he just saw those as proof of his triumph, his superiority. if you acknowledged him then he succeeded. if you pitied him then you saw him as a failure.

then he realized he never truly understood them until this moment

but now that he knew just how much he has, that his brothers don’t. something that they would no doubt kill to have again…

he’ll make sure they never get you even over his dead body.

check reblogs for more cause ill be adding there for the uh 12-24 hours

[ivysangel]

fratboy!dick being your first fuck, he brags about to his buddies about it and sends a photo of you asleep beside him sporting a shit-eating grin, captioning it "winning" only to drop you hours later for a new girl the morning after.

fratboy!jason is your first suck/bj in a restroom after he asks you out on a milkshake date. to spite dick, he sends an update to the groupchat with a pic from his pov where you're on your knees, busy and oblivious to the camera aimed at you, and captions it with "milkshake no.2 tastes real good"

i'm tweaking over the fact that i missed this because this is literally just too good. i've literally BEEN obsessed with virgin chasing fratboy!dick like if you looked through me and kazz's you would see many a convo about that topic.

he's literally so manipulative; he purposely befriends you just to get in your pants, feigns interest in your hobbies just to gain your trust so he can fuck you then dump you. and he preys on your naivety, knows that you're apprehensive about losing your virginity to a fratboy especially dick because he's got such a messy track record, so he makes sure to reassure you constantly, telling you that you're "different" and that he's "never felt this way before." and every time you second guess the motive behind his actions he does something to make you feel like you're the only girl in the world, stealing your heart until you finally give in and let him fuck you, stealing your virginity.

the worst part is how loving he is during the whole process. he goes so slow, asking how you're feeling with every stroke, wipes away any tears that might escape from your eyes while you're getting used to the feeling. he keeps up the charade that he's in love with you the entire time that he's inside of you, and then he just leaves and pretends that he never even knew you and the only proof that he did is the pic he took of you while you were sleeping and the $50 he venmo'd you for plan b the next morning.

nonnie, i think we're so on the same wavelength because i have BEEN obsessed with the concept of fratboy!jason being a bj lover for ages. like i even briefly mentioned it in my fratboy headcanons post, and what i put wasn't even my original idea. i was originally gonna say that he held the record for most blowjobs received in closets and bathrooms in the entire frat's history. but anyway, back to what you said.

"milkshake no.2 tastes real good" is some crazy work, and i'm actually kind of upset that i didn't come up with it but whatever. fratboy!dick and fratboy!jason hooking up with the same girl just to get back at each other despite neither of them actually having feelings for her is actually so disgustingly real. and a bitch is gonna keep coming back because the dick is great!!! fantastic!!! phenomenal even!!!

the thing with jason is that despite being in a frat, he refuses to publicly associate with them and therefore has half the school thinking he's some sexy loner with no friends when he is, in fact, a legacy pledge and incredibly well respected amongst the brothers. so he's posted up in the university library, chatting you the fuck up with his knowledgable takes and dry-ass humor. convincing you to go on a date with him isn't hard at all, and somehow, despite you being freshly devirginized with approximately one body, neither is getting you to suck his dick in the dingy bathroom of the diner he took you to.

you're on the floor, dirty, offputtingly sticky tile pressing into your knees while you suck him off, really putting your neck into it because he's hot and you want him to come back for a round two in the near (hell, even distant) future. he snaps a pic of mostly the top of your head, features barely identifiable to absolutely anybody but dick who A) either calls him immediately (jason declines) or B) blocks him because even though he didn't actually like you this still somehow breaks bro code (dick is weirdly possessive over his virgin conquests).

jason never tells dick that it was one of the worst blowjobs he's received in his life and that you used way too much teeth because the ego boost from pissing dick off is way too good.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

trouble, m | jjk

... aka, jeon jungkook’s dick is so good and your pussy is so heavenly that faith in humanity is restored.

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; a hookup turned awkward meeting at a goddamn McDonalds of all places; smut (fem reader, hair pulling, heavy making out, m-receiving oral, doggy, penetrative sex, fingering, m-masturbation); non-idol!BTS – ft best friend!Park Jimin being a wingman little shit classic

--

“Oh, I’m in trouble.”

Panic coursed throughout his veins.

“I can’t be here.”

And maybe a little bit of arousal too.

“Jungkook, this is a public place,” Park Jimin corrected him. “Anybody can be at McDonald’s.”

He almost got up from his seat, except he was boxed in a corner of a crowded fast-food restaurant and Jimin shoved the tray full of food right in front of his face. The other side of the table held various shopping bags full of things that Jimin thought his mother would like for the upcoming new year. Why did Jeon Jungkook have to be here? Well, he was the one guy from Busan who happened to be Jimin’s close friend and Jimin’s mother’s favorite friend of her son’s. Therefore, Jungkook obviously had to select something for Jimin to buy just so Jimin could say, Jungkook thought you would look nice in this cream sweater, thus gaining maximum best son points.

Yeah, Jungkook didn’t really get it either, but he was told that he was getting free food out of it.

Didn’t think it was going to be McDonald’s, though.

Also didn’t think that his fuck from last night was going to serendipitously appear, standing in line looking drop-dead gorgeous as she pushed the fur-lined hood of her coat back. Her lush hair spilled out in soft waves over the shoulders of that the black suede long-line stunner, far too much luxury for the city mall. And then there was her face. What god thought it would be funny to allow someone to look that effortlessly pretty bare-faced? Who put such sexy eyes on such a cute face? One glance and one would think, how cute with those dimples and pillowy lips, and then do a double take when the shape of those foxy eyes sunk in, holy shit, fuck me right now. Or, at least Jungkook had thought that. Still thought it, looking at her again in the daylight. Tight white top, heather gray sweatpants that didn’t match the lavishness of the jacket, and easy black-and-white sneakers, clearly everything thrown together to grab some food quickly while being a goddamn snack herself.

Jimin was carefully positioning Jungkook’s meal in front of him – fries, massive sandwich with both a beef patty and fried chicken patty, tall Coca-Cola and all, chatting away, and all Jungkook could do was gawk like an idiot.

Like he said, he was in trouble.

Tomorrow.

The ghost of her hand slid up his chest, caressing his skin while her voice curled by his ear, soft lips kissing down his neck.

I hope your friends ask about me.

The image entering his mind, the way she smiled above him, her skin alight from his mood lamp with specks of red light playfully dancing over her jaw, her fingertips tracing his muscle making his heart race, her soft thighs against his, smooth and sleek and making him insane.

The devil was in the details.

“Hello? Did you space out again?”

Jungkook jumped, startled that Jimin was glaring at him. “What?”

Those small hands stiffly pointed to the food spread before them. “Eat? Come on, it’s busy and we don’t want to take up too much time.”

“R… Right.”

He had about two seconds to take a bite out of his sandwich before Jimin casually asked in between bites of curly fries, “Oh yeah, you ran off last night with that sexy lady. How did that go?”

Jungkook choked.

-

That’s all I am, sex and shallow feelings, tch, what an idiot, acting like it was ever anything else, I don’t need anyone and I won’t need anyone, go ahead and act all high and mighty in front of your friends during the day, we all know you’ll be begging to crawl in my bed at night.

Mind a billion thoughts a minute.

You tilted your head and found yourself not that hungry. Still, some fries and a drink sounded good, so you picked that. Reached into the fur by your chest and pulled out your cardholder, tapping it to pay as you continued scowling in your head, trying not to let it show in the form of resting-bitch-face.

Ten minutes before this moment had been an annoying confrontation. You considered if you could have handled it better.

Or more savagely.

You should have pulled up all those messages you had left on read.

Sigh, but, no, you hadn’t thought of it. Ultimately, it wasn’t worth your time. It would have been a childish move. Why was that anyway? Why was it that you needed to be the “bigger person” and not be petty when some guy got all up in your face about you not wanting a relationship as his supposed friends crowded around in a circle around you two, clearly silently intimidating you? In public! Fuckin’ bum-rushed you on the street as if the showy dramatics would illicit shame or obedience. Yeah, because you were a woman who would just kill to be in a relationship, right? You scoffed internally. ‘Cause it was just so important to be in a relationship, more than, oh, I don’t know, actively not being in one that was definitely, absolutely gonna make you miserable?

Also, he hadn’t even been that good in bed.

“At least I am sex. You couldn’t even be that for a slut with as low standards as me,” was your frigid reply before walking away.

You couldn’t understand it. What was so great about relationships anyway? People only got into them for easy sex. A lotta work for a shitty time. You could get laid without the emotional baggage of another, thank you.

Although, sex probably wasn’t easy for people who acted like little bitches.

Hah.

You thanked the employee and accepted your food, wandering over to the drinks fountain with your paper cup. A basic day of running errands on your off-day now ruined by this bullshit. Nothing a little McDonald’s couldn’t fix though. Something about the nostalgia of hot, simple, cheap fast food made it more delicious. You probably should have gotten a sandwich or something, but you didn’t want to be too full and not want to do your errands after. Fried potatoes it was.

Hey, people called you sex, not the epitome of health.

You notched your finger on the tab and watched the honey-sweetened black ice tea pour out of the nozzle, which was the exact moment your intrusive thoughts popped up.

You avoid making deep relationships so that no one will notice when you die.

Thanks, brain.

Funnily enough, no one had ever said this to you. You would think someone would have noticed by now but, no, this was a revelation you made yourself once you were old enough to understand yourself better, and it came randomly while showering. Hmph. Goddamn showers. You slipped past a lovey-dovey couple to sit by the window counter, plopping down on one of the stools to munch on your fries for a bit. Alone. Some people wanted a lot of people to surround them. A sense of community and togetherness. Some people wanted a chosen few, valuing the quality over quantity. And some people were like you, loners who accepted who you were and that was NSFS – not safe for society – patiently waiting for the one that really understood you.

Or maybe there wasn’t anyone like you and you were just delusional about that.

Anyway, didn’t really matter. This kind of thing simply ended with thinking in circles. Sure, you could dwell on the whole question of existence, the why, but you had determined the more important was the who, the self within, and that wasn’t driven by the why. The who was driven by instinct.

If your instinct was to eat, fuck, sleep, repeat, then so be it.

Oh, and occasional responsibilities, like getting your tires rotated. Hence why you even outside today in the first place.

Hah, what a bother.

You munched on your crispy, hot fries and didn’t bother anyone. You learned not to expect too much out of people. They talked a lotta talk and didn’t walk much walk. I want this, this, and this, you heard a whole lot and nobody did it. A speech was all well and good, just not nearly as half as interesting as doing. And if you didn’t want to do it, you didn’t waste time beating yourself up over it. If that resulted in you only hooking up and avoiding relationships that you didn’t feel like committing to, then at least you weren’t disingenuous or fake.

Yup.

Looking out the window, you watched the people rush past with their shopping bags, linking arms with each other to avoid slipping on the sidewalk. Snow flurries falling down, down. The glass was clean enough that you could see inside the restaurant too. Tables with families and friends sharing simple, cheap fast food and turning it into a collective memory. Laughter and conversation echoed around your silence.

The looking glass showed you two ways.

You didn’t mind it, but it was evident you weren’t part of it too.

Hmmmm.

Your gaze stopped at a pair of guys. One of them was wearing a big black bucket hat. You noticed him because large brown eyes were actively staring back at you. Ogling, even.

What the–

You turned slightly and sat up straight with alarm as Jeon Jungkook stiffened and shifted, scooting closer to the person next to him, sneaking a not-so-subtle glance at you. You continued to look back in stunned confusion.

At goddamn McDonald’s?

Is no place sacred?

It was only less than twenty-four hours ago, but last night felt like another world.

-

Your fingers framing your face.

You licked your lips. Staring into his eyes, everything dark except for the mood lamp he left on. Cycling lights slowly drifted on the ceiling in a colorful haze. It was easy to remember all the shit people liked to say about you when you were alone, she’s so pretty but I hear she’s only into casual sex, what a shame, but you found solace in knowing that they had one fact wrong, because casual sex was for casuals and that was the wrong adjective to describe what you did.

Definitely the incorrect one to describe what transpired between you and Jeon Jungkook last night.

Your hand slipped from your cheek, and you touched his skin, bringing his face close to yours, keeping the whispers only in the air that you shared with those trembling lips.

“You’ve got cute eyes, but I bet you can be sexy when you want to.”

What was wrong with this? What was wrong with your comfort zone being someone else’s hands on your waist, pulling you closer? What was wrong with accepting the surge of power you felt licking the side of his mouth, adding slippery friction to the harshness of the metal rings pierced there, drinking in his moan as you teased him? It was just so annoying caring about all that noise trying to get to you, telling you to tone it down, telling you to stop, and, for what, don’t you have shame, that’s not how women should act, no. What they really meant was that was not how they would act. The consensus was to strive to be the respectable audience, always strive to fit in and be the quiet ones.

You envied their desire for silence.

Because you had to be loud.

You tangled your fingers in his long black hair and pulled his head back, running your tongue over his neck, tasting that skin and the anticipation vibrating in those muscles underneath. Admired the shivers under your body as you rolled into him, nice and slow and agonizing, whispering dirty things to him, things you wanted and none of it safe for work, finally bringing his head back down to nip at those gasping lips, intending on turning them pink and prickling with want, kissing him softly in contrast to the way you tugged at his hair every time he tried to intensify it.

“P-Please…”

His hands on your bare ass, hiking your dress up, digging his fingernails in, trying to keep his breathing even as desperation bled into it.

“You said to show you what I like,” you murmured. “I like teasing you.”

You pressed your body to his so your perfume would cling to his clothes, his bedsheets, his skin.

-

This was going to sound dramatic, but Jungkook was pretty sure last night she saved his life.

Actually.

That sounded very dramatic.

And kind of pathetic, so Jungkook kept that thought to himself, but nevertheless he kept that secret close to his chest, next to his racing heart that couldn’t seem to slow down, especially when her nails raked down his back while her tongue snaked around his, sucking on it lightly compared to the force behind her hands, the contrast between kiss and touch causing unbearable levels of arousal. He hadn’t expected a casual conversation to turn into this. He liked to think he was maybe charming, perhaps suave in some cases, occasionally daring, but he didn’t want anyone to get the wrong idea.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

And Jungkook knew he didn’t want to get in too deep unless he was sure and the truth was that he wasn’t sure if he was ever going to want someone that much. It was fucking terrifying to be that vulnerable. How could he ever be “sure”? If he failed at his own goals, the only one he was letting down was himself. If his plans didn’t go as planned, well, that sucked but it was okay because it was only himself and he could do something about it. But getting his heart broken by someone else – ugh, what could he do about that? Worse, everything became so complicated when people didn’t say what they meant and didn’t mean what they say. It would be nice to experience the good stuff without the chance of getting his heart broken.

Cut out all that risky business.

It was a bit strange that this situation hadn’t felt like a risk. Of course it was, how was it not risky bringing a woman you barely knew to your apartment with the intent to make out and who knows what else, but, hey, the moment had felt right.

Or maybe it was the gods playing tricks on him.

But, anyway, her tongue wrapping around his balls felt amazing.

She pressed her soft lips to the sensitive skin and sent shivers through his legs as her fingernails dragged down his tense thighs. He hoped they left marks, or at least lingered for a few hours. Looking down, and those sly eyes were gazing back, like they knew exactly the effect they had on him. Sparkling when her name escaped his lips in a pleading whisper, glinting in the low light as her head tipped back and her tongue curled underneath his balls to lick that thin skin behind him, making him gasp and almost fall over, his palm smacking into the wall to hold him up. A jolt of radiating pain shot up his forearm, and then her hot, wet mouth surrounded him and swallowed his cock as deep as it would go.

He wanted to say he had made a sexy moan, but he was ninety-nine percent sure his neighbors were awake, so instead Jungkook whimpered and rested the crown of his head against the wall, feeling his hair stick to his face. Apparently, his embarrassing vocalizations didn’t matter though, because her head started slowly moving back and forth. Her eyes closed, humming steadily in satisfaction. His breath caught in his throat, forgetting all about the pain and instead drowning in the pleasure that rose like scalding steam. Ecstasy shimmered through every blood vessel in his body. Soft lips, swirling tongue, tight throat that closed in around the swollen head and pulsed, pulling him in deeper, and Jungkook could feel it, his cock twitching and getting harder, the insistent softness on the cusp of not enough, and yet so much was happening. Flexing wet muscle under the head every time she backed up, trapped in that warm sleeve, her cheeks sucking inward and drawing him deeper every time her lips pressed into his crotch, her graceful fingers fanning over his thighs and ass, stroking his tingling skin in time with her tongue.

Holy fuck.

Maybe it was dramatic that last night she saved his life by blowing his dick with such incredible skill, but Jungkook was sticking to this drama.

Wasn’t casual sex supposed to be wham, bam, thank you, next. Not, holy shit, my cock is so fucking deep in her throat I can feel her neck muscles flexing, but perhaps he had done some good deeds or this year was going to be extra prosperous in the sex front (it wasn’t a question that came up much among those elderly fortune tellers his mom visited, how odd). It had to be something like that, because how was he supposed to know the friend of a friend was going to be, one, hot, and, two, down to fuck, and, three, actually good at it?

And, four.

Readily manhandle him. But not in a threatening way. In an unafraid-to-say-and-get-what-she-wanted way. The direct, forward assertiveness was sexy as hell, but Jungkook wasn’t going to tell other people that he liked it when a woman took charge. That wasn’t exactly small talk. It didn’t come up naturally. He didn’t even tell the women he had previously slept with. It hadn’t felt like the right atmosphere. And, well, the sex was just okay. He figured he had to be careful in what he said when he wasn’t sure if they were going to be long term.

He had to cover his ass.

Speaking of.

Her fingernails sank into his ass and dragged down harshly as she tilted her head back. His throbbing cock slid down along the back of her throat, sending uncontrollable tremors up his chest and down his legs, pain and pleasure and perfection.

Jungkook slapped a hand over his mouth and let out a muffled half-scream.

She started focusing exclusively on the head, back and forth, running her tongue over it with her plush lips constricting the base, holy shit, and his eyes rolled back in his head, his hand falling, exhale thin and thinning out even more as he was reaching the end. It was too unexpectedly good, fuck, it made the muscles in his back tremble and his blood boil, o-oh, fuck, made his heart race and his calves strain with tension, I’m gonna c-cum, made his scalp tingle and his mind go blank with pleasure and he never thought an orgasm could be this intense unless he was the one getting himself off, but he was wrong, he was so fucking wrong, because he could feel the tightening in his core spiraling a bit too much and he was going to lose his fucking mind.

He gasped and screamed under his breath.

The high hit him like the sudden violent snap of elastic, so sharp that he was winded and able to feel the muscles of upper thighs spasm, shooting a rather impressive amount down her throat, almost regretful he didn’t pull out so that he could see how much it was, but none of that mattered, ensnared in wave after punishing wave of indecent, gratified lust flinching through his shaking, hard muscles as he felt his cum fill her mouth.

She swallowed.

Jungkook almost punched the wall, the oversensitivity almost painful, his hoarse voice on the verge of cracking.

“C… Careful…. P-Please…”

Those eyes flickering up, and she seemed to understand. Gently, pulling back just a little. He almost buckled at the sensation of the sucking lessening, such a good feeling but overwhelming in the afterglow, and then it was cloud-nine bliss, achingly perfect in the way she carefully slid his cock along her tongue, his twitching length gliding in the puddle of saliva and cum, repeatedly, soaring high like the moon, the thick viscosity creating a slick friction that was wicked heaven.

He wanted to say, oh, yeah, I lasted a long time after that.

He did not.

I’m in trouble.

He realized that the second she got on her knees on his bed, raised her ass, and turned her head back to smirk at him. Made direct eye contact as he tried to hide his gulp and put on the condom, keeping his hands low so she didn’t see them quiver. He was staring a bit too much, but she simply reached over and took his right hand, caressing his tattoos, and then he gasped as his fingers touched slippery wetness, looking down, and was he allowed to fall in love with a beautiful pussy at first glance or not allowed? Fuck, she even had a cute asshole. Was that too dirty to think or what?

Jungkook didn’t contemplate it too much as she slid his fingers into her, the soft, firm walls wrapping around him.

“Ready?” she hummed.

“Y- Yeah…”

In hindsight, he could have said much sexier things other than, yeah, but that was the least of his problems. Getting on his knees, sinking in, and he nearly blacked out with how good it felt. A steady controlled pulse surrounding him. Somehow, his cock became even harder, his fingers splaying out over the juicy curve of her ass, deeper, so tight, and it was all her, that cute face smiling back at him with the tip of her tongue tracing her upper lip. Naughty smirk widening, captivating foxy eyes filled with mirth shining in the darkness of his bedroom.

Jungkook didn’t even care.

He was just trying not to bust a nut at this excessive amount of sensuality that he hadn’t been prepared for.

“You look very sexy with your hair over your face like that.”

He hadn’t even noticed the strands of black covering his vision because he had been too busy looking down.

“Your back looks… oh, f-fuck… looks so beautiful…”

She grinned and lowered herself on his sheets to push back against him.

He had stuttered because her pussy had squeezed him in between his words. There wasn’t any time to be eloquent anyway, not with the sudden need surging through him at this improved angle, his grip on her hips tightening and thrusting his hips forward, wincing at how loud that smack was, surely someone outside heard, but there was nothing he could do about it, didn’t want to stop, couldn’t stop, sinking his teeth into his lower lip and trying not to add any additional noise, wanted to slow down but it felt so good when he was so deep, so tight and choking his shaft, the sensitive head of his cock rubbing against her walls and swelling. Even with the condom he felt so much, pressure and power and intensity, placing a palm on her lower back and groaning between clenched teeth, the arc of her ass so obvious and the bounce so visible that he would dream about it, all of it, the slaps of body to body, thrusting hard, rough, his ears tingling with her low, sexy moans, too good, felt too good, and he wanted to last longer but just couldn’t.

Threw his head back and yelled under his rushing exhale, straining to contain his cry in his chest.

Didn’t last much longer with a new condom and in missionary position either. He kept staring at her pretty face and perky tits, feverish desire racing with every slap of hips-to-hips, his hair falling into his eyes, struggling to see her hands clutching his pillows, and then she arched her back to give him a full view of those perfect, tasty-looking, hard nipples. Honestly, he was proud of himself for lasting the ten minutes that he did. Five minutes. Er, at least he hoped he lasted more than five minutes.

He was sweaty and gasping but he asked anyway.

“Sorry, I… Are you upset at me?”

She tilted her head, confused. “For what? That felt amazing.”

His face burned as he mumbled under his breath.

“I… I usually last longer…”

“Oh.” Blink. “Oh!” She grinned at him, and it was so devious that Jungkook realized this must not be the first time she had heard that. “I don’t care about things like that. But, uh…”

Her sex saved his life.

Her next words murdered him on the spot.

“You know, when you came, uh… I’m sure you were trying to be quiet and all that, but you sounded a bit like one of those faraway screams that happen in movies. You know, when someone gets thrown far away mid-battle. A very tiny, aaaaaaa…”

Not the best sex of his life comparing his orgasm noise to the Wilhelm scream.

-

You could admit it.

You shouldn’t have said that.

But also shouldn’t people be told of such things so that they became more self-aware? It took everything in you not to burst out laughing in his presence (although you did laugh a lot when you arrived home). And it wasn’t as if you were going to see him again. For a while, anyway. Definitely not the next day at goddamn McDonald’s.

Right?

Wrong.

You gawked at Jungkook until the other guy with him noticed and started staring at you too. Oh, jeez, it was Park Jimin, another one of the guys who had been there last night at the birthday party. You remembered him and his distinctive, bubbly giggling all night. He had a great voice too, making listening to karaoke actually bearable. He was, however, the kind of guy that wanted to be in the know about everything and everyone.

Aw, shit.

You weren’t ready for another repeat of this morning.

Jimin’s round, discerning eyes recognized you immediately even in your casual clothes and lack of makeup. You snapped your head back to your empty paper packaging. Snatched up your cup, pushing away from the window counter and stepping down, winding over to the drinks machine to top off on tea before sprinting it. Hey, McDonald’s wasn’t that cheap anymore. Inflation was a thing. Better get as much as you could before leaving.

You tossed the oily packaging and your napkin before turning around, immediately nearly colliding with Jeon Jungkook.

“Gah!”

“Oh!”

And he grabbed your waist.

Of course, he did.

Your bare waist, because you were wearing a crop top under your heavy coat.

You kept your drink-holding hand out of the way and gasped into his chin, your other hand landing on his left upper arm and squeezing, suddenly tense all over. It was hard and solid under your grip, twice as tense as you were.

“S-Sorry, Jimin pushed me…”

You vaguely heard Jungkook mumbling but you didn’t have time for this, didn’t have time to be let down again by humanity. Didn’t have time for Jeon Jungkook getting into your face about you fucking and dipping, scolding you about being too blunt, and possibly even directly calling you a bitch. Not that you didn’t deserve it. You just didn’t want to find out that cute-faced, criminally-undercover-sexy, surprisingly-a-very-good-fuck Jeon Jungkook could maybe be a shitty person.

Didn’t want to know.

Better not to know.

“S’okay. Let me get out of your way,” you mumbled back, turning your head away.

“You’re not in my way.”

You heard him say it, didn’t believe it, and yet his hands were still around your waist.

“Actually… Please be in my way.”

You froze.

Snapped your head back and found yourself centimeters from Jeon Jungkook’s face.

Oh, I’m in trouble.

He let go of you, slowly, his touch hovering as if you would make a break for it in the middle of this crowded McDonald’s, as if you would bowl over small children and their Happy Meals to escape, sending plastic toys flying in your wake. But you did no such thing, instead holding your breath, realizing how upset you would be if this was another you’re an insensitive whore moment. The truth was that you didn’t care until you did, or at least until you fully comprehended that you were glad to see Jungkook rather than completely indifferent. Why? He hadn’t said anything special. Just, please make it home safely. You had thought that was weird, please. Brushed it off as him being polite or even maybe trying to entice you with that light touch of submissiveness, anything but the possibility of him actually, honestly, straightforwardly caring about your safety.

You learned to expect people not caring for much except for themselves.

“I… Good afternoon,” you managed to get out, stepping closer as a crowd of kids squashed themselves against the drinks fountain, clambering over each other with their paper cups, yelling about how you snooze, you lose even though there was plenty of soda in a fast-food restaurant.

An adult, presumably a guardian, ran over to tell them to quiet down.

“Y… Yeah…” was Jungkook’s strangled reply, startled at you attempting conversation.

You held your sweet tea and tried to lightly bow, but realized that you could hit him in the chin if you did. You stepped aside to avoid that, and then his hand darted out. Stopping. Suddenly aware of what he was doing, stuck on what to do, looking at you helplessly for instruction. This was some love song or romcom movie shit.

No.

This was a goddamn McDonald’s, not awkward-sexual-tension meeting grounds. You grabbed his hand and pulled him along, spinning to find yourself crammed into the table with a grinning Park Jimin and too many shopping bags.

“Oh, hey. Funny seeing you here.”

Jimin was stifling his giggles.

You immediately let go of Jungkook’s hand, your face frozen and expressionless.

“Ah, Jungkook, can you watch my food?” Was it your imagination or did Park Jimin just bat his eyelashes? “I’m gonna go put the gifts in my car.”

Oh no.

“Stay right there!”

Jungkook looked mortified. “Jimin, wait–”

But he did not wait. Ruffled fluffy black hair, mischievous smile, and a whoosh later, those crinkly paper bags gone like a disappearing act, leaving you and your fuck of last night with a half-eaten sandwich and cold fries.

“I… He… I’m sorry,” Jungkook sputtered, jerking erratically.

You clutched your tea like a liquid social safety net. “Sit down. Children are staring at us.”

Sure enough, a small crowd of curious peepers were climbing the low half-wall and peering at you and Jungkook. They were being plucked off one by one by a pair of exasperated ladies who looked like they desperately needed a nap. As soon as one child was removed, another climbed up to take their place. Inquisitive little bundles in brightly colored jackets, pom-pom beanies, and sipping soda from paper cups. Jungkook whipped his head back, exposing his red ears under his bucket hat for half a second, saw the kids, and sat down beside you, turning his back to them.

Now even bigger peepers were directed at you.

“Uh…”

You cleared your throat. Drank some tea. “Erm.”

“I... I didn’t expect to see you here.”

You almost choked on your chuckle. “Yeah, uh… same.” You ticked your head to the outside, in the general direction Jimin had run off too. “Shopping for new year stuff?”

Jungkook shrugged. “Mostly for Jimin’s family. I usually shop online.” He scrunched his face with a little bit of dismay. “It’s too much on the weekends sometimes.”

“Yeah, I’m the same.”

Your knee touched his.

He looked at you.

Don’t look at me like that. I’m gonna want to kiss you.

“And we’re in the middle of a McDonald’s.”

“What?”

You could see stray strands of black brushing against his cheeks. Could see those starry brown eyes under that big bucket hat, those pink lips parted and that small mole underneath them trembling, something you had noticed last night even in the low light because you had been licking up his neck and watching his open mouth, savoring the way his whine travelled by vibration through your insistent lips from his throat.

“I don’t want to make out with you in front of all these children,” you clarified, letting out a slow, concealed breath. “But if you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to make a bad decision.”

People only get into relationships for shitty sex.

Right?

I want to be around him.

“Um… I think Jimin wanted to get an air fryer and who knows what else… I’m supposed to carry the big stuff,” Jungkook grumbled, sounding like he wanted to abandon his current adventure for a different kind of adventure. Still, he begrudgingly remained a good friend. “But tomorrow…?”

You weren’t sure if he was aware that he was getting closer to you, practically thigh-to-thigh and shoulder-to-shoulder, but then you put your hand on his coat sleeve. He froze up, holding his breath. He smelled good. Fresh and clean, like laundry from the dryer. He was close enough for you to clearly discern his scent.

Close enough for you to remember.

“I need to get my tires rotated,” you finally remembered. “I’ll call you.”

His cheeks flushed pink. “C-Call me?”

“Yeah, give me your number.”

-

She asked for it like it was easy.

Who cares? Jungkook determined, after all, that he was easy. Or at least his hands were hurriedly fumbling with his phone as he blurted out the numbers as calmly as he could, which was probably not that calm, but who cared? Not him and definitely not his dick.

“Thanks. Don’t forget to answer or I’ll feel dumb.”

“Wait, give me your number.”

She paused, glancing at him. Shivers all over when their eyes connected, and he was sure he saw a guarded flicker in those eyes, but then it was let go, her lashes lowering, casting away the unknown reservation that he hoped she could tell him one day. And yet she stayed silent, turning her phone over in her hand.

“I want it,” he breathed.

Her eyes shifted back up. Ghost of a smirk on those lips.

Like she was trying to hold back.

“I’m going to give it to you,” she whispered to him, and he had to lean in, no, wanted to lean in and the scent of her perfume caught him, sweet and smokey, all those memories flashing back, in the dark with fistfuls of his sheets and breathing in, his pillows, his blanket, his clothes, heavenly and arousing. “Just saying I come with a warning label.”

“What kind of warning?” Jungkook found himself asking even though he was desperate to indulge in this risky business.

“I’ll never let your last that long,” she purred with a smug smile. “Don’t give up, okay?”

Jungkook felt his cheeks burn as he typed down the number and kept his retort to himself because Jimin suddenly appeared and the conversation was abruptly over. He jerked his head away quickly as she mouthed a tiny aaaa under her breath, teasing him, and this was a bad decision but he answered the call anyway when it came.

-

What are you doing? You don’t do relationships. People don’t like the way you do things. They’re complicated and full of secrets. They can’t be honest. You’re too honest. It doesn’t work.

Your intrusive thoughts had worked the graveyard shift and were now doing overtime.

They don’t like you.

You weren’t that surprised at these thoughts. You also did the absolute most when fucking and probably not enough outside of fucking. Some would call this karma. You would call it a nuisance. Shut the fuck up, brain. You already knew all this. You knew and you muted all that sound, all that excess noise that warned of tomorrow being ruined, chose to shut it all out until there was nothing but the melody of Jeon Jungkook’s bated breath.

You could listen to your head and let those thoughts fuck everything up.

Or you could place your fingertips on Jungkook’s lower lip and feel his gasp travel through your nerves, feel the way your blood shimmered in your veins and raced faster. Caress that pink curve to stop at his lip rings, tangible, hard and soft juxtaposed. Breathe out, your eye line lifting, up, finding those large dark brown orbs surrounded by wispy black tendrils.

Jungkook wanted you.

That was pretty obvious, especially from his hands trying to slide up your skirt.

He was just waiting for you to start it off.

You could listen to your head or choose to feel and listen to your instincts, dangerous as it was.

I’m in so much trouble, fuck.

You knew it, and yet you leaned in and kissed him anyway. Something about him, the way his eyes instantly closed when you came close, the way he trusted your eyes wouldn’t stay open, the way his lips gave in to your insistence, no, yearned for it, his fingernails sinking into your hips and yanking you close, onto his lap and into his heat, and then it was darkness and tongue and breathing into his mouth, hot and unnerving and addictive.

You hadn’t even noticed you had closed your eyes until you felt your hands sliding into his hair. Barely even perceived how you held your breath when your chest pressed against his, gasping, too many clothes in between and all the anticipation, dancing your nails over his scalp and sucking on his tongue, his melodious moan melding with your heartbeat roaring in your ears.

What is this?

You rolled your hips into his lap and Jungkook groaned, breaking the kiss and tipping his head back, his hardness twitching between your legs, insistently pressing up through his sweatpants as his neck became exposed. And there was nothing you wanted to do but press your lips to that mole on his neck, tasting that tan skin and inhaling his scent, wanting to be covered in it, drenched in it, dancing kisses up his jaw and catching his ear with your teeth, tugging on his hair and rocking your hips back and forth, turning hot friction into hot, damp friction.

“I c-can’t…”

His moan rang in your ears, his fingers pushing up the sides of your panties and driving them into the crevice of your ass, creating a damn thong with too much fabric.

“Can’t t-take it anymore…”

Pulled hard and you gasped, feeling the slinky fabric slip in between your folds, soaked and soaking, strong hips knocking into that dug-in fabric and practically bouncing your pulsing pussy on his rock-hard erection.

You curled your arm around his head and tipped his face to yours, seeing his glassy eyes and open mouth, his shaking breath feathering against your chin, and if Jeon Jungkook was a liar, then he was a damn good one, one of those liars so deep in the lie that it started becoming truth.

He whispered your name in the shared air, between his and your trembling lips.

He’s too desperate to be a liar.

You closed the distance between lips and tangled your tongues in the tango, lifting your hips at the same time, smiling at his whine before silencing it by pulling his hand between your legs, pushing the thin fabric aside, and then the collective sigh. Yours, shivering satisfaction. His, driven desire, fingers exploring and sending shivers through your legs. Wet and slippery and soft. Pressing his face into your neck and then gasping when his soft lips pressed to your throat, light kisses and wanton need, his other hand sliding up your sweater, pushing it up.

I want you.

He slid two fingers into you and moaned into your skin, slow, pressing his touch into your clenching walls, his eyes closed under you. In, out, building pleasure, your hips following, riding his hand, deeper, intense, hard, his tongue licking your collarbone and your lashes fluttered, suddenly overcome by shivers.

“I w-want you…”

He gasped against your throat, almost a whimper, those pleading eyes half-opening. Pulling out slightly and rubbing slow circles that made your hips flinch, his fingertips brushing against your slick clit, and those brown eyes darkened, tipping his head back to watch your face. His fingers on your waist tightening, holding you in place, shifting his fingertips, and you bit back a hiss, locking your knees, staring back into his starstruck eyes that showed you everything he was as he stroked your clit, igniting all your nerves and scorching your skin in passionate flames.

You saw what Jungkook was saying.

He wanted you so bad, not just a little, not just for a couple orgasms, not just for every night but also every day, even every afternoon and every twilight and every dead of night. Every kiss, every touch, every look into the eyes telling you this meant more to him than casual and for some reason it didn’t feel like a burden.

Casual sex could only stay casual if both people got the memo.

Suddenly, you realized neither you nor him were getting the damn memo.

You leaned forward and breathed in his exhale, squeezing his hips with your thighs, harder, yes, so good, fast and harsh and closer, closer, pulsing sensitivity escalating, your fingers tangled into his long black hair, entangled moans slipping out, fuck, yes, I’m close, Jungkook, fuck, and he was good but this was more than skill, more than half-lidded eyes and your hand falling, tracing his jaw, biting back your orgasm until…

Until.

“I could stare at you forever,” you breathed.

Closed your eyes and moaned into his mouth, the high crashing down, leaking all over his fingers and causing his touch to slip, dripping down, everywhere, all over the front of his pants and down your legs, and there was no time to care, dragging Jungkook into kiss after kiss, driven by snaking pleasure coursing through your veins. His wet fingers grasped your thigh, kneading the softness, his whines trapped by kisses, begging for your legs against his naked chest.

How could you refuse him?

You just couldn’t.

-

I’m so fucked.

Truly, madly, deeply fucked.

Past in trouble and actually in danger, danger, you’re seconds away from cumming, clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth so he felt something else, anything, please, clutching fistfuls of his sheets and wondering why the fuck the condom wasn’t reducing any sensation because, holy fuck, his cock was trapped in a hot, slippery, tight sleeve that pulsed around his twitching, hard length every time he descended. He couldn’t think, could barely breathe, could do nothing but follow that carnal instinct to thrust over and over, deep as possible, the angle so good he closed his eyes so they didn’t roll back into his head even though he was hopelessly losing his mind at the sensations of her, so soft, so intense, so good his legs were shaking with tension, the rhythmic smacking obscenely loud, rattling bedframe echoing throughout his bedroom.

“H-Harder,” she gasped breathlessly.

Harder?!

Was she trying to kill him?

She lifted her hips and Jungkook knew he was fucked.

He threw all of his energy into his hips and sunk his teeth into his lower lip, his lip rings hitting his teeth. Metal hitting bone. Screaming in his head and tightening his vocal chords, thankful to see her eyes closing, her head tipping back, low satisfied moan of his name travelling to in his ears and then all that he was keeping together shattered and slammed into him, heat rushing and mind-numbing, euphoric high punching all the air out of his lungs, visceral tension snapping at his hips and now he was pumping the condom full, o-o-oh, fuuuuck, her walls shivering and amplifying the good feeling of sexual intoxication, his vision a blur, only now realizing all the sweat sliding down his back and forehead, his damp hair swinging down over his eyes, and maybe lasting a only a couple minutes but it was a damn good couple of minutes if Jungkook was allowed to say so himself.

He was panting, hardly able to catch his breath.

It wasn’t enough.

Fuck, he was so horny and he was barely recovering from his first orgasm. Didn’t know what came over him. A wave of insanity? Inconsolable craving? Willful sacrifice of his soul to the sex goddess in his bed right now? Dramatic, sure. Casual, no, pushing his palms against the bed, shuddering as he pulled out of that tight warmth, almost regretting it, but then he looked down. At the shiny slickness, his white cum swollen at the end of the condom. He gripped the opening and pulled down, peeling it off with a whine, and Jungkook was pretty sure he was overwhelmingly crazy or overwhelmingly horny or both, because why else would he scoot his knees up and start jacking his spent dick like a madman, whimpering at the sensitivity and the slippery friction and the scene before him – her legs lowering from his shoulders, those curious eyes glinting under him, her soft, bouncy breasts rising and falling rapidly in her heavy breathing, fuck, so sexy, so fucking sexy, faster, tighter, staring at those hard nipples he wanted in his mouth right now, so fucking bad.

He let his eyes flicker up.

Gasping, baring his depravity.

She smirked, her tongue tracing the edge of her upper lip.

“Cum on me, Jungkook.”

Words so simple that they could be said by anyone, but this was different, this was too much intensity, too much irresistible pleasure, too much too sure about this feeling, this moment, this connection, and then her fingertips slid up his hard, tense, trembling thigh, sinking her fingernails in and dragging down, those stings of pain sending him over the edge.

“A-Ah, fuck!”

His eyes rolled back and his hips pitched forward, flinching powerfully and shooting cum over her stomach, up her cleavage, sudden streak of white glistening against her skin, jolts of aching bliss penetrating his quivering muscles. Shared gasp, everything smelling like sex, his bedsheets, his clothes, his skin, mixing with her perfume. Sweet like candy and heavy like lust.

Jungkook wanted to douse himself in it.

Her cum and her perfume.

He pressed the dark, purple-red, swollen head of his twitching cock to her cum-covered stomach and moaned, dragging it across and slipping further and further into blinding oversensitivity, on the edge of too much but he liked it, fuck, he liked it more and more as he saw her sly smirk and foxy eyes sparkle, savoring his reactions. It made him want to give in to this side of him more.

Her hand lifted, fingers curling around his chin, stroking his lower lip with her thumb.

“You’re so sexy, Jungkook. I love the way you look at me.”

Something about the way she said it, making him feel that she really meant it.

No, know that she really meant what she said.

His heart fluttered. Took flight.

No.

Soared.

They really were such simple words, nothing complicated at all, and that was how Jungkook knew.

He was sure.

--

masterpost

[alwaysanundertone]

Why try? | poly! marauders x fem! reader

angst / fluff

CW: brief mention of bully, negative self talk, some cursing (?) I think that’s all :)

word count: 1.4k

note: it’s my first mini series and English is not my first language, just wanted to say so in case you spot any error :)

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4 coming soon

“Why are they dating me?”

That’s the question that kept flashing in your head 24/7 for the past week.

It all started when you were sitting with your group of friends in the Ravenclaw common room. You had just returned from your secret date with the marauders; even though they wanted to love you in public, you didn’t. It was silly, really, but you didn’t want all of the backlash that it would inevitably come from dating them.

You knew, deep down, that if you were to love them in the open, everyone would be confused as to why they chose you. They were the marauders, for god’s sake, even you had doubts about this… thing that you had been going on, god only knows what everyone else would be thinking.

So you invented an excuse. You told them that your brother was protective over you, that you didn’t want to cause them trouble. You could have been spending more time thinking about a better story: your brother couldn’t care less about your wellbeing, let alone who you dated. It didn’t matter what he really thought, though, because they believed the lie.

It hurt to have to lie to the boys that you were growing fond of, but still, years and years of bullying made you this way. You never really viewed yourself as someone worthy of affection, let alone of love. You never really liked your physique, you hated your nose, you wished you had something special about your physical appearance but you couldn’t find it.

Even your personality didn’t seem worthy of being known, or at least you thought so. You were an A-student, but only because you studied hard. You had a lot of hobbies, sure, but you weren’t exactly good at them. All of this to say, you didn’t deem yourself worthy of their attention.

Now you were sitting with your friends, chatting, and of course, of fucking course, they had to start talking about james.

“I really don’t get how he can be so oblivious about my flirting”

This caught your attention. The girl talking wasn’t exactly your friend, however she shared her room with Emmeline, one of your best friends, so she started hanging out with you. Still, you didn’t know about this flirting until now. You chose to listen quietly.

“… I mean, I even went to his game wearing his damn number on my back. What do I have to do in order to get his attention?”

“I don’t know Aurora… Rumor has it they are all dating some new girl, though nobody knows who she is! They saw them hanging around near Hogsmade, but nobody saw her face. I really thought they didn’t want to include anybody in their relationship”

“Another girl?” Both you and Aurora exclaimed at the same time. This. This was a rather embarrassing situation.

“What Y/N? Decided to join the conversation?”

“Yeah, didn’t take you as a marauder fan?”

This is why you should learn to keep your mouth closed.

“What? Am I not allowed to be curious?”

“Yeah, not like they’ll ever consider you.” Em stared at Aurora blankly, you were sure your face was showing every little thought that was slowly, but surely, starting to crawl over your consciousness, making you doubt yourself.

“What? Don’t look at me like I’m the evil guy. It’s nothing personal, Y/N, but you are just a normal girl, they seem like the type to enjoy someone more… special?”

And that’s when the doubting started.

“Yeah… I think I’ll go study now”

You excused yourself, while you clearly heard Em starting to get angry at Aurora, but you just couldn’t take this.

It was one thing to doubt yourself, but if even your friends thought the same of you, maybe you were right, maybe you should just stop bothering them.

You ran to the library, to the farthest corner. Staring at the rain pouring outside your window, you started to do the one thing you were really good at: self loathing.

A hand made you jump.

“Hey there dovey, didn’t mean to scare my girl”

Remus was looking at you with that loopsided grin of his that made your stomach flip. He called you ‘his girl’, even though you weren’t official, your heart swelled.

“Hey Rem” You tried to smile, you really did, but for some reason your facial muscles couldn’t bring themselves to work. His face immediately fell.

“What is going on?”

You could have just told him.

Maybe you should have.

But you really weren’t one to just talk about problems, you preferred to just pretend.

“Nothing! Nothing I- I just-“ You stopped for a moment. Great job, Y/N, you were doing such a great job! You took a deep breath. “Nothing, I’m just a bit stressed about herbology? You know I’m not the best at it”

He seemed to believe you. “Well, we can study together then?”

Again, you should have said yes.

“I’m sorry I just- I mean, we hung out earlier? Aren’t you tired of me?”

He frowned. “No? Why would I be? Sirius and James are napping, I was actually looking for you? I feel like we hardly ever have some alone time together”

You wanted to cry, you wanted to talk about every little doubt crowding your mind. But you couldn’t, your tongue twisted.

“Oh…”

“But I mean, if you want some alone time I understand!

You simply nodded.

“See you around Remus”

“Okay then? See you around?”

He turned, stopping for a minute, likely pondering if he should just go away or stay to talk. He decided to leave.

You fell even further on the armchair, your mind flooded with doubts.

You sat at dinner, exhausted. You have been spending the whole afternoon running through the endless possibilities as to why they were willingly spending their time with you. Were they making fun of you? Were they just bored? None of your answers made you feel any better about yourself.

Now you were staring at your plate.

“Hey Y/N” Em looked quite concerned. “Are you alright?” You nodded, she frowned.

“If it’s Aurora who got you so sad, don’t worry, I kicked her ass”

You snorted at that. “No, don’t worry Em, everything’s alright. You know I get like that when the winter nears”

She nodded. It was exhilarating how everybody seemed to believe your lies.

Throughout the whole dinner, you sensed three pair of eyes burning through your back. You decided you couldn’t stay a minute longer under their scrutiny, pretending to eat, pretending to have fun. You simply stood up, exiting the Great Hall.

A hand grasped yours, making you jump.

“What’s up with you lot today? Trying to induce a heart attack?” James snickered, tugging your wrist and making you end up in his arms.

You noticed Sirius and Remus looking at you, the latter still sporting the frown he had in the library.

“Just wanting to check up on you. Moony here was quite worried about you, said you seemed sad. Is everything alright?” Sirius searched for your eyes, while you looked at your feet. “Did we make you uncomfortable in any way?”

“No, no it’s not that”

That’s it. You really were stupid.

Remus quirked a brow. “So you are sad about something.”

“Well, you know… the rain.”

James looked like he was about to laugh. “Well yes, it rains quite a lot in Scotland?”

“No, I mean I get quite moody when the weather starts to worsen” At that James hugged you.

“You poor thing, you should have told! Wanna come in our dorm and have a cuddle?”

A cuddle did sound nice, but then again the doubts started to flood your mind. They already had to spend time to someone as uninteresting as you, the least you could do was try to not be a burden.

“No, sorry I just want to take a shower and have some alone time, you know?”

They seemed worried. James looked like a lost puppy, not understanding why you were so suddenly trying to create space between you and them.

Sirius nodded. “Okay love, but if you change your mind you know where to find us, yeah?”

You wanted to cry. To actually sob into their shoulders and word vomit every single mean thing that you told yourself in the last six hours. Instead you just smiled, waved, and ran to your room.

And so began the worst week of your sixth year at Hogwarts.

[alisonsfics]

late nights and merlot

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: after having equally terrible weeks, you and carmy stay late to brainstorm new dishes. all it takes is a few glasses of wine and some late night confessions to get you both further and further away from the friends label.

word count: 2.9k

When you walked into the Bear early this morning, Carmy greeted you with a sleepy smile and a cup of coffee. “Why do you look like you’re about to ask me for a favor?” You had asked him, hesitantly accepting the coffee. He asked you to stay late to help brainstorm ideas for a special menu.

Of course you said yes. It was Carmy. And you figured it would help get your mind off your all too recent breakup.

Ever since you walked in on your boyfriend with another woman a week ago, your life had been shit.

To make it worse, you hadn’t told anybody about it. None of your friends. No one at the Bear. Especially not Carmy.

You were too embarrassed. While you knew it was your ex-boyfriend’s fault because he did the cheating, you were still worried you’d be judged for not being able to keep your boyfriend.

So, a late night of menu brainstorming with your coworker, who you had a tiny crush on before you started dating your boyfriend, sounded like the perfect distraction.

You had made it to the closing of the restaurant for the night. The whole team was hanging out in the kitchen joking around and chatting. Carmy had noticed you were a little distant, so he was trying to stay close to you.

You were leaning backwards against one of the counters, and he was standing right next to you with his hand resting on the counter behind you.

Richie was in the middle of teasing Sydney about some new crush she had. Every time you had heard someone bring up flirting or dating in the past week, it had made all your emotions about the breakup come rushing back.

It was hard to listen to people talk about love as you were grieving it.

“I’ll be right back.” You leaned towards Carmy and whispered. He gave you a supportive nod. “Yeah, okay,” he said, softly. He knew that something was wrong. He just didn’t know what it was.

You quickly walked into the office and closed the door. Sugar looked over at Carmy. “Is she okay?” She mouthed to him, not wanting to cause a scene. Carmy shrugged. “I’m not sure.” He mouthed back.

Carmy was often the person that they turned to when something was off with you. You both were very close, and Carmy was always able to read you better than anyone.

After everyone left, Carmy noticed you still hadn’t come out of the office. He walked over and slowly opened the office door. “Hey, everybody’s gone now, if you want to come out.” He said, softly.

You looked up at him from the office chair where you were sitting. He noticed the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Are you alright?” He asked. He wanted to run across the room and hug you, but he was trying to give you space.

You simply shook your head, wiping the tears away. You stood up and walked towards him. You wrapped your arms around his waist and buried your face in his chest. He quickly reciprocated and wrapped his arms around you.

He held you tightly against him. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” He comforted you, running one of his hands over your hair. You cried into his chest. He softly swayed with you in his arms, trying to do anything he could to comfort you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked you, softly. You shook your head. “I really appreciate the offer, but I’m not ready to talk about it yet” You told him honestly.

“That’s okay. I’m always here.” He said, rubbing your back.

After a few more minutes of peaceful silence between the two of you, you both pulled away. “You want to start working on the menu?” He asked you.

You quickly nodded. You were desperate for a distraction. “Great, I have this idea for a dish, and I’ve been wanting to make it for you.” He said, walking back into the kitchen as you followed.

He guided you through each step of this dessert dish. He kept making little jokes just to get you to laugh.

He was working on some kind of fruit sauce and was telling you about this embarrassing story from his childhood. Your laugh was infectious to Carmy. He couldn’t get the smile off his face, and he couldn’t stop trying to make you laugh.

“Oh, shit. There was something else in this sauce. I don’t remember. Can you go grab my notebook from the office? I think I wrote it down.” He asked you.

You quickly nodded and went into the office to grab the book. You knew exactly what book he was talking about. You always saw him scribbling down notes in it whenever inspiration struck.

You started to flip through the book as you walked back towards him. You saw beautiful sketches of all kinds of dishes.

“Carmy, I didn’t know you could draw like this. These are amazing.” You said, in awe. His cheeks were tinted pink as a bashful smile appeared.

“Yeah, I took a few art classes here and there, and it helps me visualize the presentation of the dishes.” He told you. Carmy was the most humble person you knew.

He was one of the best chefs in the country, and he still acted surprised when you liked his food.

You accidentally flipped over a sketch that wasn’t of food. You realized it was you. You blinked as you stared at the sketch, thinking that somehow your eyes were deceiving you.

“Carmy, is this…?” You asked, not being able to find the right words.

He looked up, to see what you were looking at. He froze when he saw you staring at the picture. “Oh— that,” he mumbled. He didn’t know what to say.

“Is this me?” You asked him, smirking at his shocked expression. You both knew it was, but you wanted him to confirm it.

“C’mon, we both know that’s you. I needed a break from drawing food one day, so I looked around for inspiration. And, I don’t know. I see you everyday, so—” he rambled.

“So, you drew me?” You asked, touched by how sweet the gesture was. He bashfully nodded. “Anyway, flip to the page about the sauce,” he said, changing the subject.

You helped him finish the dessert but kept thinking about the drawing.

“Carmy, this looks delicious,” you told him as he completed the assembly of the dish.

You grabbed one of the spoons he had set out. “Not yet, don’t touch. It pairs great with this wine we have.” He said, wiping his hands off on his apron.

He noticed the mischievous grin on your face. “Don’t touch,” he repeated, making you giggle. He went out into the dining room to grab the wine from behind the bar.

He came back into the kitchen and poured you both a glass. “Can I finally try it?” You asked, impatiently.

Carmy chuckled and nodded. “Go for it,” he told you. You grabbed a spoonful of the dessert and tried it.

Carmy watched nervously. He knew you always liked the food he made, but he was still nervous every time.

“Oh my god,” you said, grabbing onto Carmy’s bicep. He felt his heart skip a beat, and goosebumps popped up on his arm. “Carmy, this is the best thing you’ve ever made.” You complimented.

“I guess we’re adding it to the menu if you like it that much.” He said, chuckling. You quickly nodded your head in agreement while you tried another bite.

You held up your wine glass. Carmy chuckled and quickly followed your cue. “To the best fucking dessert I’ve ever had.” You said, clinking your glass against Carmy’s.

You both sat there in silence, slowly eating the dessert. “You wanna know something sad? This is like the closest thing I’ve had to a date in a while” he told you, with a self-deprecating chuckle.

Just like that, your mind was back on your breakup.

You bit down on your lip, trying to fight the tears that you knew weren’t far away. “Oh, fuck, I screwed it up. Whatever I said, I’m sorry.” He said, immediately noticing the change in your disposition.

“It’s not you, Carmy. It’s not your fault.” You said, your voice cracking. Carmy reached out and gave your hand a comforting squeeze.

You took a deep breath before looking over at Carmy. He gave you an encouraging smile.

“I haven’t told anyone this, but last week I caught my boyfriend cheating on me. That’s why I left earlier. I just couldn’t listen to everything about having crushes and relationships. I’ve been so ashamed, which I know is stupid because it’s not my fault. But I’ve refused to tell anyone til now. I’ve felt like shit, and I haven’t had anyone to talk to about it.” You told him.

“I’m sorry. That’s so shitty that that happened to you. I want you to know that you have me to talk to. I will always be here, and you can tell me anything.” He said, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand.

“I shouldn’t have waited so long to tell you. You make everything seem better.” You told him, giving him a hug.

You took another sip of your wine. You felt relieved that you had finally gotten that off your chest.

“To honor that, do you want to know something that I haven’t told anyone?” He asked you. Your intrigue was written all over your face as you quickly nodded.

“One of my ex-girlfriends from school got married this weekend, and it messed me up. It’s not like I’m hung up on her or anything. We were like 14 when we dated, but I just feel so behind. So many people I know are getting married and having kids, and all I have is a restaurant that’s struggling to stay afloat on the good days.” He confessed.

“Thank you for telling me that. I know that’s hard. And I know what you mean.” You told him, resting your hand on his forearm. Carmy also felt relieved after confiding in you.

“But just because you’re not married or having kids doesn’t mean you’re not accomplished. You have this place, which is great, even though it’s stressful. You’re a great friend, and a great brother. You are doing just fine.” You assured him.

He raised his glass again. “Another toast?” You asked, giggling. He nodded his head. “To being each other's confidantes,” he said, tapping his glass against yours.

“It would be a shame for this wine to go to waste. And I think we’ve dampened the mood too far to keep cooking.” You said, raising your eyebrow at him.

A smirk grew on his face. He grabbed the wine bottle and pulled you towards the office.

You both spent the night getting wine drunk and complaining about all the things you’d been wanting to complain about.

Most of it was shit talking your ex-boyfriend. You obviously hated him. And Carmy couldn’t fathom the idea of being lucky enough to be your boyfriend and throwing it away, so he hated him too.

The next morning, Sugar got out of her car and headed towards the back door. She finished the last sip of coffee in her cup before tossing the cup into the dumpster.

She took a deep breath before unlocking the door. Once she walked inside, it was time for another stressful day at the Bear.

She walked through the kitchen, noticing some abandoned pans that hadn’t been cleaned. Carmy staying late and testing recipes wasn’t new, but normally he cleaned up before he left.

Nat noticed that the office door was open, so she walked over. She started to think Carmy decided to have an early start to the day.

She peeked into the office and almost jumped when she noticed Carmy and the fact that he wasn’t alone.

She saw the two of you, asleep on the futon in the office. Given that it was a small futon, you both were closely pressed up against each other. Carmy’s arm was wrapped around your waist, keeping you from falling off the couch. Your head was perfectly nuzzled into Carmy’s neck.

Nat had been secretly betting on you both getting together. She had to cover her mouth to stop herself from bursting out in laughter. She sneakily took a photo of the two of you and immediately sent it to Richie and Sydney.

Then, Natalie heard the back door open. She quietly rushed over, trying to tiptoe as well as she could.

She found Richie walking inside. She quickly held her finger up to her lips to keep him quiet. “Did you see my text yet?” Nat whispered, to which, Richie shook his head no.

She grabbed his wrist and made him follow her. Nat pushed Richie towards the office doorway.

“Holy shit,” Richie said, in complete shock. Nat quickly jumped to cover Richie’s mouth with her hand, but the damage was done.

You and Carmy both heard the loud exclamation and slowly woke up. The last few hours of last night were completely gone from your’s and Carmy’s memories. You remembered drinking a lot of wine, but not how you ended up on the couch.

When you opened your eyes and saw Carmy only a few inches away, you jumped back in surprise. In an equal amount of shock, Carmy tried to stop you from rolling off the couch.

It didn’t work. You flopped off the couch and landed on the ground. You sat up, rubbing your eyes and then finally saw Nat and Richie standing in the doorway.

“Hey, you two,” Nat said, with a smirk.

“You okay?” Carmy asked, helping you up off the floor. Richie’s eyes stayed glued on the both of you.

“What’s with you two?” You asked, gesturing towards Nat and Richie. They both frowned at you, knowing it was obvious. “We’re not gonna address the two of you cuddling on the couch?” Richie asked, raising his eyebrows.

You and Carmy quickly looked at each other and then back at Nat and Richie. “No, it wasn’t. Not like that.” You corrected them.

They didn’t believe you.

“Yeah, you were totally curled up in each other’s arms in a friend way,” Richie said, sarcastically.

“Can you leave us alone?” Carmy asked Richie, exasperatedly. Richie furrowed his eyebrows at Carmy. “But teasing you is so much more fun, cousin,” Richie said, chuckling to himself.

“Alright will this shut you up?” Carmy asked and then leaned over and gave you a quick peck on the lips. You felt butterflies in your stomach. You barely had time to react to the kiss. But you went along with it.

Richie and Nat both looked shocked as they watched in disbelief. “Now we’re going to go get some coffee, if you don’t mind.” Carmy said, putting his hand on the small of your back and leading you out the back door.

As soon as you both were in the alley, Carmy dropped his hand from your back. You quickly turned to face him.

“You mind telling me what that was?” You asked him, referencing the kiss.

“I’m sorry. I panicked, and I was trying to shut Richie up.” He quickly apologized.

“Well I think you nailed that, Berzatto. Instead of thinking we got drunk and fell asleep, now Richie thinks we’re together.” You said, laughing at the craziness of the situation.

Carmy's mind was racing with all the things he wanted to tell you. “I don’t think we should lie to Richie though.” Carmy said, making you even more confused. You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate on what the hell he was talking about.

“You want to run in there and say you were kidding? Richie’s not gonna buy that.” You said. You were waiting for this genius plan that Carmy seemed to think he had.

He shrugged, running his fingers through his hair. He stepped closer to you. “Maybe we just make it not a lie,” Carmy suggested.

If it was possible, you were more confused. “Carmy, what are you talking about?” You asked him. Normally, you both were pretty close to sharing a braincell, but right now, you couldn’t even read his expression.

“Last night was great. It was almost therapeutic. I feel so safe with you, and it just feels natural. I don’t know if I said any of this last night cause last night’s a little fuzzy, but it just feels right with you.” He said, stepping closer to you and cupping your face with his hands.

“Just kiss me, Berzatto,” you said, smiling at him. He quickly closed the distance between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around him. You felt goosebumps race across your skin.

He grabbed at your waist, your body curving against his. You could feel him smiling against the kiss. He softly nipped at your bottom lip and smirked. “Your ex didn’t appreciate you, but I will,” he mumbled against your lips.

You knew he meant every word of it. Carmy was going to worship the ground you walked on.

You both pulled away from each other. When you met his gaze, smiles instantly spread across both of your faces.

All it took to get you both together was an expensive bottle of wine and a few years of pining.

taglist: @laurakirsten0502 @miraclesoflove @nathaliabakes @millipop18 @lillyssh-tposts @shyinadarkplace @vanteguccir @missroro @guacam011y @sw33t-cupid @ice-dtae @leyannrae @sia2raw @nyx2021 @just-a-littlebit-of-everything @shyconversationalbookworm @shadowhuntyi @visenyaverse @ruzannetheseahorse @superdeath @wandaswifeyforlifey @spookyqueen @mcuswhore @princess-evans-addict @n3ssm0nique @peakascum @cjand10 @namsey1987 @supernaturalstilinski @stephv213 @warriormirkwood @one-sweet-gubler @narliesstuff @bibissparkles @stupiidfrogs @navs-bhat @mattsfavbigtitties @the-sylver-dragon @0-n-1-x

Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist for all my imagines or for a specific character/fandom!!

[nxuvillette]

TO FEEL WHOLE AGAIN — BOOTHILL

synopsis: getting pregnant and left by yourself wasn’t in your plans in life at all, but you end up meeting a man who becomes more than just a friend who’s willing to help.

❥- pairings : boothill x fem!reader

❥- note : so sorry for any inactivity !! life has just been a wreck, but i’m here with a little idea I came up with the other night. i hope you all enjoy <3 reblogs are appreciated !!

content warnings : sfw, fem!reader, ageless + blank blogs dni, pregnancy, abandonment, heavy angst, breakups, mentions of abortion (reader does not have one), mentions of alcohol, human!boothill, angst with happy ending, use of pet names (darling + lovely), fluff, very fluffy things.

You can recall the day you met Boothill like it was the back of your hand. 

It was the day your life had begun a completely new journey, but also, the same day that your life had completely fallen apart within just twenty four hours. Every memory was ingrained in your brain like it was never meant to go away. How could things end up going right, but so wrong at the same time?

About seven months prior, you found yourself sitting inside of a bar with tears still staining your cheeks from the incident that had occurred just hours beforehand. Your heart had gleamed, but shattered just minutes after. You questioned why something like this had happened to you. You never wronged anybody. Sure, you weren’t the most perfect person to exist, but as humans, it’s in their nature to make mistakes. Yet, god had different plans for you and they weren’t exactly the most pleasing ones.

Just two days before that day, you had found out you were pregnant. 

It came by total surprise. You and your boyfriend weren’t exactly trying for kids, but you both had been together for four years at that point. You noticed something was off about you when your period suddenly missed its usual day, and you were experiencing some very odd symptoms that were unusual. After some convincing from your friends, you decided to go out and purchase a pregnancy test which came back positive. You didn’t know what to feel. You were excited, nervous, emotional, but most of all, anxious. You didn’t know how to break the news to your boyfriend and you weren’t sure whether or not you wanted to keep it. 

For a few days, you didn’t say anything to him. You weren’t the best with words and you didn’t want to dump something so sudden onto him either, but he eventually figured it out when he found you one morning throwing up your breakfast into the toilet. 

He wasn’t angry or upset, but you knew something wasn’t right with him after he found out. He started to become somewhat distant and he avoided any conversation about the baby growing inside you. Then, that same day you ended up at the bar, you had woken up to him gone. All of his items and personal belongings had been cleaned out, and when you tried to get a hold of him, he just completely ghosted you. You didn’t understand. Was it you? Was it the baby? Why did he just up and leave you like that with zero hesitation? It was like your heart had been shattered into pieces and you didn’t know what to do. He left you alone and pregnant with his child. 

Completely brokenhearted and confused, that’s how you ended up in the bar. No, you weren’t drinking any alcohol, but there was a part of you that wanted to head to the clinic and terminate the pregnancy all together. You couldn’t raise a baby on your own. You had seen many stories of mothers defying the odds and managing, but would you be able to? You loved your now ex boyfriend more than life itself. You didn’t think you could fall in love again, and what man would want a single mother as a girlfriend? Most of them would scurry away the second it’s brought up. It wasn’t their job to shame you for whatever choices you made. 

The bar's atmosphere was buzzing with people chatting amongst themselves. Despite being around people, you still felt completely isolated inside of it. You kept thinking of the choices in your brain over and over again. It was consuming you, and you didn’t think you were in the right state of mind to make that decision right now.

You were brought out of your thoughts when the bartender placed a glass in front of you. It was filled with some kind of alcohol that looked like it could be a margarita or a martini. Your brows furrowed at the sight of the beverage. You didn’t order it. “U-Um.. sir, I didn’t order this.” you pushed the glass towards the man behind the bar who was cleaning some cups used earlier. 

“I know, but that man over there did.” he pointed towards the other end of the bar.

You turned your attention to where he was motioning his hand. Your eyes widened a little at the sight of the man who sat a few seats away from you. He had a cowboy hat on top of his head, and very long hair that stretched past his chair. He was wearing a white button up shirt that exposed his chest just a little. He noticed you were staring at him and winked at you, then waved a little. It didn’t seem creepy or strange, but you didn’t know how to react. Despite feeling the way you did, you couldn’t help but think how handsome he was. He had a cunning smile and seemed like one of those cowboys you would have heard of in stories you heard when you were younger, but you knew you couldn’t accept his drink. 

Soon enough, you turned away and just pushed your drink from your reach. You didn’t want to do anything stupid. If it came off as rude, then so be it. You weren’t about to fight with another man this evening. 

You decided to check your phone. There was a small bit of hope that was in your heart. You hoped that maybe your ex reached out to you to fix things or maybe had something to say, but unfortunately, there was nothing. You had a few random notifications from friends, but otherwise, it was silence on the other end. God, you felt like an idiot. He was gone for good. Men who do that shit typically fall off the face of the earth and never come back again. 

“Hey, sweetheart, mind if I take this spot next to ya?” 

You practically jumped out of your skin at the sudden voice that spoke beside you. Your head snapped towards the sound, and you were a bit surprised to see that man who was sitting across the bar now standing next to you. His cologne filled your nose. It smelled of deep wood with a mix of pine. 

Your words got caught in your throat. Was he doing this to make you uncomfortable? Part of you wanted to ignore him, but he wasn’t necessarily doing anything wrong. “N-No! Go ahead.. it’s empty anyway..” you replied, trying to avoid his eyes that were boring holes into your face.

The man plopped beside you, taking a swig of his glass that seemed to be filled with some kind of whisky. He was quiet, at first. You weren’t sure if striking up a conversation was in your cards tonight. You were honestly too lost in your thoughts, and somewhat a little nauseated. “So, uh, do ya come around here often? You’re quite the peach if I say so myself.” he placed his cheek against his fist which was resting against the table beside him.

“I don’t..” you replied, dryly. 

He seemed a little discouraged by your sudden lack of enthusiasm. It wasn’t your intention, but really, you weren’t interested. “I see.. my name’s Boothill.” he said. “Yours?”

Your eyes flickered towards him then back at the soda can that your hand was wrapped around. This was starting to feel awkward or almost like a forced conversation. You didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but you wanted him to take the hint. “(Y/N)..” you looked at your cell phone to try and avoid him. “Look.. I-I appreciate the drink, but I’m not really interested in a relationship. I just don’t.. I..”

Before you were even able to finish your sentence, tears began to trickle down your cheeks. You didn’t even know you were holding them in until they began to slip from your eyes. 

Boothill was taken back by your sudden tears. He immediately felt guilt wash over him. He didn’t mean to come off as a weirdo or forceful towards you. That’s the last thing he would ever do. “Hey.. I’m sorry, shit, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I-I can totally take the drink back and get out of your hair.” he stood up out of his chair to leave the bar. 

You started to wipe your cheeks of any liquid that was on them. “N-No, it’s alright, it’s not you..” you shook your head. “I’ve just had a rough couple of hours.. believe me, it’s not you at all.” 

The man was unsure of what to reply with. Regardless, he felt very bad for you. Not many people come into bars to weep. Most of the time, they come to do the opposite and use the drinks to numb any negative feelings they have. He didn’t want to pry by any means. “I see.. I’m still sorry,  darlin’ I had no idea..” he paused for a moment thinking of what to say next. “If you wanna talk, I’m willing to listen, can’t guarantee I’m any good at advice, but I can be an open ear.”

You weren’t sure if venting your feelings to a complete stranger would make any difference in how you felt. It's not like he would care much anyway. He would probably look at you with that same look every other person had given you when you told them what your ex did. 

However, you were completely wrong.

That day you told Boothill everything that had happened to you. He was completely blown away when you confessed that you were pregnant. He kept apologizing for the drink and was somewhat worried that you felt disrespected, but you didn’t take any offense. It’s not like he knew, nor were you even showing at that point. 

Although he didn’t know you, he had a lot of sympathy for you. He told you that your boyfriend wasn’t a man, but a young boy who couldn’t take responsibility for his actions and he didn’t deserve you by any means. Boothill felt as if abandoning a woman and her child was the sickest thing you could ever do in this life, and you couldn’t help but agree. Especially after spending many years together. 

It felt kind of nice to have someone listen. Even if he was some random person you didn’t know, there was at least somebody out there who was willing to give you the time of day. 

You felt a little dull when you realized you would probably never see Boothill again, but you thanked him many times for his patience. He was even sweet enough to walk you back to your apartment which wasn’t very far from the bar at all. Typically, you weren’t so trusting when it came to men in general, but Boothill’s energy felt secure for some reason. You didn’t feel fear or unease around him. Your body would always give you signs someone wasn’t good, but you were calm and didn’t have a single issue. 

For a little while, you wondered if keeping the child was the right option, but after a lot of conversations with your friends and family, and oddly enough, Boothill, you decided to go forward with the pregnancy. 

You thought you would have to do it alone, but that changed almost instantly when you started receiving random items at your doorstep one morning. 

You had a stable job, but you knew babies weren’t a walk in the park financially. Your parents offered to help pay for whatever was necessary, but you felt bad for making them do such a thing. It all started to shift when you discovered a package outside your apartment door. You had a box of different supplies. Baby shampoo, baby bottles, wipes, lotions. It was basic necessities for an infant and you were a bit confused how they showed up there. You questioned your parents but they denied ordering anything of the sorts, so you wondered who gifted it to you. 

Your friends were also clueless. They had gifts in mind but they weren’t planning on purchasing anything that early on in your pregnancy. You hadn’t even planned on a baby shower or anything of the sorts. 

It didn’t take long for more things to arrive. One morning, you saw that you had been given some baby toys. They were small and quite cute, but you still had yet to discover who was the one leaving them at your doorstep. You wondered if it was potentially your ex trying to somehow compensate you for deserting you, but would he really? He left you alone with the baby. It was clear enough that he wasn’t interested in helping to raise it, so why put in the effort to accommodate you? He could care less about you. 

It all changed when you were leaving your apartment one afternoon. You had an appointment at the doctor’s office to check on how the baby was doing, and standing right beside your front door was not your ex, but Boothill.

At first, you didn’t notice him holding a box of items in his hand, but the realization soon took over that he was the one buying the gifts. You were taken by complete surprise. The two of you had hardly interacted much during that time period, so it did confuse you why he was helping you. He wasn’t obligated to just because you informed him of what your ex did. It wasn’t like you were begging him for money or assistance either. Boothill was just as surprised to see you there too. He usually would stop by when he knew you wouldn’t be around, but he knew sooner or later the truth would come out.

With a flushed face, Boothill began to explain himself. 

He told you that he just couldn’t let you go on that journey alone. He knew it wasn’t his responsibility to be buying you things or even being involved in your life like that, but at the same time, he couldn’t sleep at night knowing that you were all alone and there wasn’t anybody else to be there for you. He did apologize if it made you uncomfortable and he wouldn’t come around again if that was the case. 

However, you told him the opposite. You were very thankful for what he had been doing for you. Not many men would step up and just go out of their way to buy things for a baby that wasn’t theirs. You told him you were very appreciative of what he had done, and he could come around as often as he liked. It was kind of lonely being by yourself all of the time. Your friends weren’t always the most available, and you lived on your own. It felt nice to know that somebody wanted to spend time with you. He was relieved that you weren’t weirded out or upset with his actions. He wanted to do the right thing. 

Much to his surprise, you invited him to come to your ultrasound that day, and he was thrilled.

Your interactions grew over the course of a few months. You started seeing him everyday and he came around whenever you needed something. Boothill didn’t mind spending his days with you. It was a joy to watch your belly grow and to see your baby begin to become larger than it was before. His favorite moments were when he’d feel a small kick or movement. He loved kids. It was a guilty pleasure of his, and he honestly couldn’t wait to meet your baby girl. He made so many bets that it was going to be a girl and you thought he would somehow be wrong, but he was right the entire time. 

Along with the baby's growth, there were also feelings between you and Boothill too. He was the first man in your life since your ex and he treated you so much better. He did everything for you, and the baby wasn’t even his. He would spend time helping you tidy up your house, holding your hair away from your face when you had morning sickness, making you tea, giving you massages whenever your body felt sore. Boothill did everything. He even offered at one point to do the entire nursery for you when your due date came closer, but you assured him that it wasn’t his duty to do so. 

But, he planned on doing it anyway.

All of your friends told you to go for it. They said that Boothill was what you needed and they could tell he was into you too, but you were still unsure. If anything, he could be doing all of this just to somehow hurt you in the end or claim you “owed” him a relationship for doing everything for the baby. You knew that probably wasn’t the case, but you were still on the fence.

But, was he?

-

That afternoon, you had woken up from a nap to a knocking coming from your front door. You weren’t expecting any guests, but you had already assumed it was Boothill who was there to do his usual drop by to check in on you. 

You unlocked the front door, pulling it open so he could enter. He was dressed in his usual outfit. A white button shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and those cowboy boots that you had made fun of a few times. Boothill was used to just entering your place at that point. “Afternoon, darlin’” he said, shutting the door behind him. 

Your hair was a bit messy from your nap and you weren’t really dressed up. You wore an oversized t-shirt with a pair of shorts that sat just below your belly. It was a lot more comfortable than the regular pajamas you were used to wearing months ago, but alas, the growth of your body had made those a lot less comfortable these days. Boothill still thought you were gorgeous despite the messy look. “Hi..” you yawned. “Sorry, I’m fresh from a nap. I didn’t hear my alarm..”

“Not a problem, I was just stopping by to drop something off for you.” he replied, handing you a box that had your name on top of it.

Your eyes flickered from the box to the man who was staring down at you. You were used to him giving you random things for the baby here and there, so you were expecting something that was a necessity. “I’m curious, let me see.” you then began opening at the box to see what was inside of it.

After a few seconds, you pulled out a small blanket, but it wasn’t one that was from the store. It was actually homemade, and right in the center was the baby name you had picked out stitched into the fabric with baby pink lace. It was probably the most adorable thing you had ever received from him. It was so soft and you could already picture yourself swaddling your little girl in the blanket itself. The fact that it was homemade as well made it even more special than it already was. 

You weren’t sure if it was the pregnancy emotions or not, but you could feel warm tears burning your eyes. It was truthfully making you feel so happy for this pregnancy, but most of all for Boothill. You couldn’t be more blessed with a man like him. “I-I.. I love it..” you sniffled, trying to hide your tears. “It’s so cute..”

Boothill was concerned with your sudden emotions. He didn’t mean to make you cry. If anything, he wanted to do something special for you since you were a special person in his life. “Ahh.. shit, I’m sorry, lovely, is it too much?” he asked, nodding his head. 

You shook your head, laughing in the process to try and halt the tears slipping through your eyes. It was the furthest thing from too much. You adored it. You didn’t care if the stitching was a little crooked or if the pink was somewhat bright, it was cute. It had to be one of the best gifts you had ever gotten. “N-No! I love it! It’s something I wouldn’t have imagined you’d give me! Did you do it all on your own?” you looked up at him with an eyebrow raised.

He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Haha.. yeah, that’s why it might seem a little messy. I got the idea though and figured why not? You need something to swaddle that little monster with!” he smiled, which made you smile as well.

Boothill was taken back when he suddenly felt your arms wrap around him. This was the first time you had ever initiated any sort of physical contact with him, and he wasn’t sure how to react to it. Your body felt warm and your belly was against his own abdomen. He could smell the scent of your shampoo lingering in your hair, and it almost intoxicated him from how delicious it smelled. He hesitated for a brief moment, then settled his own arms around your waist. It just felt.. so right to be hugging you. He had yearned for quite a while to feel your touch, and now that he had it, he wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

Your cheeks felt hot at the realization that you two were so close. There was so much going through your mind at the moment, and all you craved was him. His presence, his touch, his warmth, anything. It was all you wanted. “Boothill.. I want you there when she’s born..” you spoke, softly. “I want you by my side.. you deserve that more than anybody else.”

His eyes grew wide at your words. Sure, he knew he was going to visit when your baby was finally born, but in the room? During the birth? Oh, he could faint right about now. “Of course I’ll be there, sugar. You know I wouldn’t miss it.” he replied, smiling at the thought of your birth. 

Boothill then crouched down to meet your belly. He hadn’t ever done that before while being with you. You felt his hands touch your stomach, seemingly searching for your little girl who was somewhere in there. It felt so natural for him to be doing this. You didn’t feel off or weirded out. You loved the way his fingers explored your skin, touching and grazing at the stretch marks that had formed within time, but what you loved the most, was him.

“Can’t wait to meet your little one.. she’ll be a peach, I know it.” he looked up at you with a grin. 

“Our.. little one.”

Boothill paused when the words slipped from your lips. He thought he had misheard you for a second. “W-What..?” his brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

You felt a little bashful having to repeat yourself. You weren’t sure what his reaction might be to you saying such a thing, but you couldn’t keep quiet anymore about your feelings. You wanted him involved in your daughter’s life so badly. It would kill you inside if that wasn’t the case. “O-Our.. baby, Boothill.” you said, avoiding his gaze that was fixed on you.

He stood up, still staring at your face with a serious expression. It was like his heart had completely blown up inside of his chest. It was like he was falling in love with you all over again at that very moment. He couldn’t feel more honored that you thought of him that way. “You’re serious..?” he questioned, looking into your eyes. 

“Y-Yes.. god, yes, Boothill. I don’t care if she’s not technically yours.. in the end, I want you in her life, and mine too. I can’t imagine a life without you..” you whispered, intertwining your fingers with his.

He couldn’t hide his wide smile at your confession. All of the love he had swallowed down was now completely overflowing, and he didn’t mind whatsoever. You were so beautiful. He adored you so much, and he was more than happy to call you his girlfriend. He was also thrilled to have a daughter. He could care less if people would judge him for raising a child that wasn’t his. He was more of a father to her than any other man would be. 

He suddenly pulled you close to him, pressing a kiss onto your lips. It was so passionate and loving. He couldn’t stop himself. It was like he was finally able to have what he wanted, and it felt amazing. “I love you so much, darling, you don’t even know how deep my love runs for you..” he pressed his forehead against your own. “I’d die for you and our little angel..”

A grin appeared on your face. This was all you ever wanted to hear. You didn’t think you would ever have the opportunity to hear him say such things, but you couldn’t be happier it was coming true. “I love you more, Boothill.” you then placed his hand on your belly. “And I know she does too..”

The both of you couldn’t be more excited at that moment. It was all perfect. You had everything you ever wanted. Neither of you imagined that this life would be in front of you now, but you wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

© NXUVILLETTE ┆ all rights reserved, do not repost, translate, or claim as your own.

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER SIX

06 : POTIONEER

CHPT. SUM. : Orion is furious at Sirius' sorting and demands he be resorted bringing you and Regulus with him to Hogwarts where you catch a glimpse of Remus and finally remember who Damcoles Belby is. 

LENGTH : 13.1k

TAGS : domestic fluff ; mother-son moment between Sirius and reader ; Regulus is a precious baby ; Orion is a dickhead and a big baby ; fluff ; angst ; hurt/comfort ; Marauders becoming friends ; Damocles and Ruth are couple goals ; reader gets revenge for our baby.

TRIGGER WARNINGS : child abuse ; claustraphobia 

← PREV. 05 : SIRIUS: FIRST DAY | SERIES M.LIST

3rd September 1971

The day before had gone relatively well. Sirius and the other first years in his classes were still fascinated by the castle and its magic so the tour and introductory first lessons in the afternoon went smoothly. The first years were adjusting well. 

Today will be Sirius’ first full day of lessons and, although it’s daunting, his demeanour is exuberant. Knowing that he will be sharing classes with his new group of friends made him all the more excited. The previous night was spent mostly chatting with his dorm mates, being in bed by 10 pm but not sleeping until past midnight. It meant that he was down for breakfast later than what was ideal and to avoid worrying about rushing back to get ready in his dorm, Sirius made sure to get dressed and brought his book bag to breakfast. This was entirely Remus’ idea, which the boys were incredibly thankful to him for suggesting. The soft-spoken brunette was beginning to build a reputation for having a head full of sensible ideas, making up for what the rest of the group lacked. 

Sirius was just about to finish his plateful and reach for a serving of freshly cut fruit when a shadow appeared over him. It was Argus Filch, the caretaker of Hogwarts.  

“Can I help you?” Sirius asks, managing to quell his alarm and brace himself for what may come. Surely he wasn’t in trouble for anything already — there couldn’t possibly be anything he could be guilty of. James, Peter, and Remus looked up in curiosity, also having the same unanswered questions on their faces, silently seeking some sort of response to calm their startled nerves. 

“You’re needed at the Headmaster’s office,” Filch announces, his eyes gleaming with amusement at the sight of the group’s unanimous surprise and dread, although his expression remains largely dull and unimpressed. 

“…just me?” Sirius dreaded to ask. 

“Just you,”

“Why?” Sirius’ demand visibly irritates Filch but he answers nonetheless, happy to have done so when he’s rewarded with Sirius’ pale and ghostly expression — an explicit look of horror.

“Your father is here,” the edges of Filch’s lips seem to twitch but ultimately remain in a straight line, neither smirking nor frowning, “shouldn’t keep ‘im waitin’ now,” James was immediately vocal in his protests. He could tell that Sirius was petrified at the thought of his father and immediately assembled the pieces Sirius was willing to divulge the night before on his home life — his mother was supportive but his father was not. James’ bold protectiveness over Sirius was heartwarming, he never had anybody stand up for him against his father much like this. Primarily because not many were a witness to it and Sirius would like to keep it that way as much as possible. His mother protects him now but this was only recently. Before that, Sirius made sure to keep Regulus out of trouble, vowing to protect his little brother and avoid trouble for his sake alone. James’ display was refreshing and touched his heart. And it was what gave Sirius the strength to willingly go with Filch. 

Despite the bubbling dread in his stomach, Sirius keeps his chin high as he’s escorted to Dumbledore’s office. Although fearful at first, the prospect of facing his father at Hogwarts made Sirius more angry than anything else. Yes, he was shocked and, in that shock, terrified,  but for his father to behave so impudently by visiting Hogwarts was highly hypocritical when the man always demeaned Sirius and punished him whenever he behaved or spoke in a disorderly way. Their encounter was surely going to be an explosive one. 

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Orion was losing his patience. It wasn’t like him to act so brazenly but the current oddness of his wife had been provoking his displeasure. He’s been feeling the unpleasant bubbling for an entire month and endured it all. So it shouldn’t be a surprise that Sirius’ Gryffindor sorting finally made him blow up and throw about the house’s interior in a blind rage. Atop that, Orion had been even more disgraced but in his own home this time; his wife had ordered their filthy, useless house elf to move all her belongings into a spare bedroom. 

They no longer shared a bed. 

Imagine his surprise when, the following morning, he was greeted by his wife and son at the fireplace, ready to floo to Hogsmeade and journey to Hogwarts. 

“Regulus and I will be having breakfast at the Three Broomsticks,” you announced firmly, reminding him of the early hour. He had the open invitation to join you both but Orion refused, demanding that the matter with Sirius was urgent and that there wasn’t any need for breakfast. But he should have listened to his wife. When he charged up to Hogwarts ahead and was greeted by Dumbledore, the wistful headmaster had him wait around until he was finished with his breakfast before Sirius was finally called for, requesting that the Squib caretaker do the retrieving. Now, Orion sat in the office with an empty stomach and only his anger fuelling him. 

“I hope that your boy has had the time to eat his breakfast as well,” Orion looks at the headmaster, stopping his impatient foot tapping when he notices the mysterious gleam in the elderly wizard’s eyes, “we wouldn’t want him going to class with an empty stomach,” 

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Orion was an idiot. You had an idiot for a husband. The thought made you roll your eyes and scoff irritably. Men were so pigheaded sometimes, do they even realise how annoying they can be? 

Observing Regulus as he wiped the crumbs off his mouth with a napkin was all you needed to ease your mounting irritation, however. Your sons won’t grow up unpleasantly like that; you know that your boys will be true gentlemen, naturally, with their own personal idiosyncrasies but, unlike your foolish husband, they’ll be chivalrous, well-mannered and receptive, you’ll see to that personally. Orion won’t have any influence over them. This is your new life’s mission now. 

“I’m all done now, Mother,” Regulus announces with a somewhat sheepish smile as you grin with amusement against the lip of your teacup. He knows he didn’t pay the best attention to his etiquette when devouring his plate of breakfast at The Three Broomsticks but you don’t seem to mind so maybe he’ll get away with it… Little did he know that you found him incredibly adorable and enjoyed the way he appeared more like a child his age for once. 

“That’s good, dear,” your calm demeanour and slow actions makes slight panic flash in Regulus’ eyes. He’s concerned at the lack of action, the passing of time and the idea that he won’t be there when his father and brother meet, “we will keep our promise, Regulus, I assure you,” his endearing worry is met with your kind smile, “I’m sure Sirius is enjoying his breakfast right now too,” the growing smirk on your lips begins to reflect on your youngest, who immediately catches onto your cheekiness. 

“I-I suppose father will be going without any breakfast then…” Regulus comments, taking a sip of his apple juice. 

“Darling, who are we to get in the way of your father’s demands? He was ever so insistent,” an amused giggle passes between the two of you and Regulus is finally able to relax a bit. He makes a mental note to write about your uncharacteristic mischief to Sirius in an upcoming letter. He had been meaning to write a letter congratulating Sirius on his sorting but thought it better to voice in person instead after you invited him to Hogwarts under Orion’s furious insistence.

You took some minutes to enjoy the rest of your breakfast before announcing your departure. 

“Come again soon, Mrs Black! Both you and your son are always welcome,” Madam Rosmerta shouts warmly as she waves you and Regulus off with the beer mug she had been polishing. 

“Of course, Madam Rosmerta. Until then, take care!” you call back, smiling happily at the woman. 

Unfortunately, you didn’t account for arriving at Hogwarts castle without a guide ready to escort you from the grand entrance to the Headmaster’s office. It was pure luck that you were spotted by one of your favourite characters and immediately taken to your destination. 

“The headmaster speculated you’d be arriving here,” McGonagall spoke stiffly but warmly in her distinctive Scottish intonation. Following a brief introduction of all parties, she finally begins to lead you and Regulus to the Headmaster’s office. She looked much younger than she did in the films, yet to be worn down by the mischief the marauders cause only to be succeeded by the Weasley twins, coming to wreak the same havoc and closely followed by the golden trio. It was nice to see her modelling such a reliable and tenacious character before Dumbledore manipulates her into becoming hesitant and unreliable, inconstant with her trustworthiness amongst the students. This prestigious school deserved a headmaster who cared for their pupils equally, unswayed by bias – someone fair and trustworthy, not just powerful. In your eyes, that was McGonagall. And you were going to put her in that position yourself. 

“I appreciate that, and I appreciate you coming to collect us,” you voice politely, offering a smile that she appeared taken aback by. She’s been influenced by the rumours as well. Walburga’s magisterial ways and elitism precede her. It was annoying. But, you’ll admit that it’s amusing to see the surprise on people’s faces when you distinguish all those claims personally. Not only are you making a new name for yourself but you also have the satisfaction of tarnishing the bitch in your head’s reputation. That was more fulfilling than anything.     

“It is only the correct thing to do,” 

“Are things always that black and white?” Minerva doesn’t know how to answer your sudden, cryptic comment and you have the slight mind to apologise for your loose lips. Not only was the deputy headmistress caught off guard by the question but she was dumbstruck by the question coming from you, the woman who openly expresses her abhor of muggle borns and blood ‘traitors’ — you and your bloodline were the most ‘black-and-white’ people in wizarding society. To say that McGonagall was speechless was an understatement. To her relief, you breeze past the comment entirely, “I apologise for my husband’s brash behaviour, it’s truly insufferable how audacious he is, sometimes,”  

Clearing her throat, McGonagall goes for the professional response, although she was highly tempted to agree with you, “all parents have a right to have a say in their children’s education,” 

“This goes beyond mere education, professor,” you look into her eyes and are met with agreement, “Surely, you can agree that the matter is useless kicking up such a fuss over and that my husband is entirely wrong. In this matter, I am right in saying he is being an idiot by publicly throwing a tantrum,” you tut in displeasure, “The humiliation of it all is almost unbearable,” at your side, you hear Regulus choke on his laughter and crack a smile, giving his small hand a light squeeze. Finally, McGonagall allows a smirk to stretch across her lips but before she can make any comment of agreement, you’ve already reached the gargoyle entrance to the Headmaster’s office.  

“The password is ‘Pear Drops’,” With a wave of her hand, the gargoyles reveal a spiralling staircase to the Headmaster’s office, “good luck,” she nods at you and you watch as her expression softens ever so slightly to face Regulus and bid him a soft goodbye, “hopefully, our next meeting will be a more pleasant one, down by the great hall on your first year,” Regulus smiles and nods, waving her goodbye. She offers a smile to both of you and turns with a swift swish of her thick, draping robes. McGonagall never expected you to be so warm and pleasant —it’s easy to misjudge the character of a person simply from third-party accounts and retellings. She’ll have to rethink her own prejudices and biases moving forward.  

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius hadn’t arrived yet. As soon as you sat down, Orion was already gritting his teeth, the squareness of his jaw making his frustrations obvious. 

“I told you so,” you voice blankly and with an unamused face to match. Orion didn’t say a word — he couldn’t. He was already facing the consequences of his impatience as his stomach tried to eat itself from hunger. Dumbledore raises a questioning brow at the interaction but doesn’t say anything. Instead, the headmaster turns to Regulus with a kind smile and offers him the latest muggle sweet he’s grown a recent taste for, the password to his office, Pear Drops. 

“Try some, my boy, I promise they’re a delight,” Regulus looks to you, silently asking for permission. 

You smile softly and nod, “Go right ahead dear but you’ve had a rather hearty breakfast, why don’t you save it for a special treat later on?” Regulus nods and reaches for a small handful of the sweets to pocket in the meantime, however, his small, pale hand is smacked away by Orion who hisses angrily through clenched teeth. 

“No son of mine dabbles in any muggle sweets — it’s unbecoming, Regulus!” 

It was thankful that Orion was already clenching his teeth when you slapped him across the face or else he would have bitten straight through his tongue at the force of your firm hand. 

“Touch my son again, and you’ll be falling from the tower without your wand, Orion,” you threaten through clenched teeth of your own as the man stares at you in wide-eyed shock, his expression reflected onto the Headmaster. 

The reddening hand mark on your husband’s pale cheek isn’t nearly enough to contain your rage. Your shoulders and hands shake from the barely contained wrath bubbling in your veins, you don’t even register how your palm was stinging from the slap as well. Rather than divorcing the stinking pile of shit you have for a husband, you’ll end up murdering him instead. Regulus cuddling up to your side was the only thing able to extinguish the violent rage shooting through your bloodstream but seeing the reddening of his small hand from Orion was quickly reigniting the fire within you. 

“You can’t just—” You don’t know what shameless words he planned on stitching together as a poor explanation of his actions but you were having none of it.

“Shut your mouth!” you hiss once more, eyes narrowing at him, “I said he could have some so he’s having some! How dare you publicly cause a commotion like this over Sirius’ sorting andhave the cheek to harm Regulus on top of that! And over muggle sweets?! Have some decorum, Orion! How embarrassing!” Orion appears to shrink in his seat as you lean over more and more with each word. You didn’t see it but Regulus no longer had tears lining the seams of his precious, silver eyes, instead, they were filled with glittering admiration and love at the sight of you defending him. If only Sirius could see their mother like this, he would no longer have any cause for worry about being away at Hogwarts while he stays home. 

“Ahem!” All heads turn to the entrance where Sirius stares on at the scene, wide-eyed and with a delinquent smirk tugging at the edges of his lips. It isn’t until his eyes meet his father’s infuriated ones that Sirius finds the will to conceal his satisfaction. What he had just witnessed was admirable and a laugh desperately tried to push past his lips but he resisted; he was still on the chopping block for his father to rip apart. Although, knowing that you’re also here, eases Sirius’ worries.  

“Sirius,” you breathe with a smile, your expression immediately warming up at the sight of your firstborn. It hasn’t even been a full three days since you’ve last seen him but the effects of missing him were substantial enough that you were able to easily decompress from your heated exchange with Orion. 

“Get over here, boy,” Orion seethes through clenched teeth, his attention averted. Knowing that his son stood before him as a proud Gryffindor and without an ounce of regret for the shame he has befallen their family makes the patriarch clench his fist so hard that his knuckles turn a paper-white. Sirius doesn’t move, he doesn’t even spare him a glance and when Orion follows his son’s gaze, he’s surprised to note that his gaze is fixed on his mother. 

“Feel free to take any available seat,” Dumbledore offers kindly, observing the scene with a curious glint in his eyes. 

“Please come and sit with your brother and me, dear,” you barely finish your words before Sirius moves across the Headmaster’s office to sit beside Regulus, who has promptly pulled away from you to admire his brother. 

“Thank you for arriving so promptly, Sirius,” Dumbledore begins, eyeing the substantial gap between the two parents before settling his twinkling gaze over the first year, “I hope your breakfast wasn’t interrupted too terribly by the sudden meeting,”

Sirius offers polite understanding over the disruption to his morning despite it only being the third day of school. At the sight of Sirius’ clenching and unclenching fists, you can tell that seeing his father was an annoyance, however, you’re proud of his ability to school his expression. He’s already grown up so much…

Giving a slow nod, Dumbledore directs everyone’s attention to Orion, who was barely holding himself together at the unnecessary —in his eyes only — exchange of pleasantries, “Your father has some troubles over your sorting,”

Sirius pays his father no mind as the pathetic man slams his hardened fist against Dumbledore’s wooden desk, “I DEMAND THAT THE SORTING BE REDONE! THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE!” the frightening volume of your reprehensible husband’s words makes Regulus’ shoulders shake but you and Sirius were there for him. Flanked on either side of the youngest, you were able to bring Regulus into your side for a comforting sideways embrace while Sirius reached over to console his brother by threading their fingers together and clasping his hand tightly. Regulus immediately begins to calm down and smiles to himself at the warm feeling of protection surrounding him. 

“…It cannot be done, Mr Black,” Dumbledore states matter-of-factly in a serene voice that bodes no fear for the wrath of your husband. 

“EXCUSE ME?! CLEARLY THIS WAS A MISTAKE—”

“The sorting hat makes no mistakes,” Dumbledore was so firm in his statement, that Orion was left stammering with disbelief. It makes you smirk with a sort of evil satisfaction. What will he say next? 

“That’s impossible! For that tattered old thing to have made no mistakes whatsoever?!” Orion finally has the decency to lower his voice though, not by much. 

“You are free to doubt the sorting hat as you wish Mr Black but it is indisputable and Sirius will not be resorted,”

“Of course not!” you pipe up, pinning your husband with a harsh glare, “For the sake of your own ego and pride, Orion, how could you demand such a thing? This whole fiasco is far more embarrassing than our son being sorted into the house of bravery and courage. Get over yourself. Our son will miss his lesson at this rate. I apologise, headmaster, for my husband’s shameful behaviour, I assure you that my son will behave far more gracefully,” turning away from your staggering husband and the amused headmaster, you look at Sirius with pride. Leaning over Regulus to press a kiss onto his older brother’s forehead he’s able to hear your tender whisper of pride, “I’m so proud of you, darling,”

You leave a humiliated, red-faced Orion to argue with Dumbledore, who handles the overgrown baby’s temper tantrum with grace. It was much appreciated and you were willing to applaud the old wizard if it weren’t for your existing hatred and secret plot to rid him of his position as headmaster. You’ve led Sirius and Regulus to stand quite a distance away from the two so that you could share a private moment, the attention mainly pointed towards your grinning firstborn. 

“Have you received the gift I sent you?” you ask in a whisper as you hold Sirius in a loving embrace, his arms wrap around your shoulders and he presses his nose into your loose hair — you smell like a mixture of milky vanilla, calming lavender, fruity current and flowery jasmine, it’s not like any fragrance he’s ever smelled on you but he’s grown to find comfort in it. He nods and you silently ask for the pin’s whereabouts. 

Sirius reaches into the breast pocket of his school robes, now embellished with the colours of Gryffindor, daring red and enchanting gold. He brings up his fist and unfurls his fingers to reveal the unworn pin. From the side, Regulus gasps at the beauty of such a small and intricate accessory. Smiling, you read off the personal message you engraved on the back before fastening the pin onto his grey cardigan, “A shield to protect my brave, daring and noble son,” you lean back and give him a once over. Sirius can see the visible lining of tears that gather at the edges of your waterline and his breath stills — it was one thing to read of your happiness and pride for his accomplishment at being sorted into Gryffindor but it was another thing entirely to hear the words from you firsthand and to watch as happy tears blur your vision. Sirius has never seen his mother be so happy and proud that she begins to tear up, Regulus hasn’t either and both stare at you in wonderment. Sirius feels as though he would begin to cry himself but refrains from doing so when Regulus looks at him with a bright grin and glimmering eyes of admiration. Regulus was proud and happy for him too…  

Reaching forward, you pat down the lapels of Sirius’ robes, “goodness, you look so handsome in your school robes,” you share a breathless laugh with your bashful, first-year son before bringing him into another embrace. This one feels tighter, “are you truly my son? I can’t believe it!”

“Of course, I’m your son,” Sirius pouts into your shoulder, trying to counteract his glowing grin, somehow, but it’s no use; the urge to smile from the acceptance and the happiness was too overpowering. 

“This feels like a dream…” you whisper into the air and Sirius is brought back to the time he witnessed the affectionate exchange between his mother and younger brother at the home library doorway. He remembers feeling his heart ache and clench before finally shattering into painfully sharp pieces, engulfed by spite and jealousy. But now… you were saying the same words to him…

“…a dream come true?” Sirius asks so softly and with much insecurity, you can’t help but squeeze him tighter. 

“Yes!” you’re giddy with happiness and it’s infectious, even onto Regulus who was momentarily saddened at his older brother’s innocent wants and endurance, silently suffering from that fateful day at the Library, where everything had changed. While Regulus was floating on air from the merriment, his confident, protective and loving older brother was dealt a painful blow right to the heart. He wants to reach out and hug him tight and apologise for not noticing sooner.

“A dream come true, it’s just that.” you laugh again, “I still can’t believe it — you’re my son,” Sirius smiles as you cup his cherubic face with your gentle, loving hands. He’s stuck between jumping for joy and doing a happy dance but settles for shyly avoiding your gaze and smiling down at your wrists, where he witnesses your thumbs lovingly caressing his cheekbones in his periphery. 

“I’m your son…”

“You’re my son…” you kiss his cheek and pull away. Regulus had been inching closer and closer throughout your interaction and you could practically taste his eagerness in the air, wanting to pull his older brother into a warm embrace, himself.

Happily, you allow the two to share a moment and they don’t waste any time holding one another tightly. “I can’t believe you’re a Gryffindor, Siri! Your pin looks so beautiful. Mother did a really good job with it. I wonder where she got it made and how… I hope I get one too…” Sirius, knowing the elation the pin had given him when he had first received it and even more when he read the personalised message engraved on the back, didn’t want to deprive his brother of the same feeling, not a single bit. Looking over at you, he meets your eyes and is immediately assured by the smile dancing on your lips. 

“Of course, you’ll get a pin too, baby,” you seal the promise by pressing a kiss to the back of Regulus’ head, who spins around to face you so quickly, you fear he might have gotten whiplash but the smile on his face was enough assurance. 

“Really, Mother?”

“Really really,”

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Sirius returns to the great hall with enough time to spare. His Gryffindor pin is proudly displayed on the chest of his cardigan as he finishes breakfast with his group of friends. Upon his return, they ask him the obvious questions. 

“Is everything okay?

“What happened?”

“Are you alright?” 

“What was the meeting about?” 

Sirius could hardly answer anything from the flurry of overlapping voices and questions he was being bombarded with, other students were even beginning to look at him with curiosity after witnessing his departure with Filch. However, something in the distance catches his attention. The boys follow Sirius’s distracted gaze as soon as he turns away, not having answered a single query. At the open entrance of the great hall, they witness Orion’s scowling face pass swiftly, barely casting a glance at Sirius. He can’t believe his father is being so childish but it was satisfying to watch and listen to his mother treat him like a child too — a child who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Behind him, Regulus appears at your side, walking at a more leisurely pace. You and his little brother take a moment to lock eyes with him from the great hall entrance. Both of you smile and give him a small wave, leaving unhurriedly when he returns the gesture. But not before you blow him a kiss with a devious smile on your lips. 

Despite the tender moment you shared in Dumbledore’s office, of course, you would still want to embarrass him in front of his friends! Sirius wasn’t mad though — it was quite reassuring to see a mischievous side to his mother.

“Th-that’s your mum?” Peter squeaks nervously. He’s heard of the ancient and noble Black family before. And he’s heard a lot about the notoriously disdainful patriarch and matriarch, Orion and Walburga Black so your uncharacteristic actions make him flounder, “I-I didn’t know your mother was capable of smiling like that…” 

“Me neither,” Sirius replies with a grin, but I’m glad I know now. 

“She’s pretty,” James comments, almost gushing as Remus nods along demurely, blushing down into his morning tea. 

“Why did she look at me like that?…” Remus whispers against the lip of his teacup. 

“What was that?” Sirius asks with a curious tilt of his head. He didn’t quite manage to catch what Remus had said but his muttering was enough to pique his interest. In his embarrassment and distracted thoughts from when you had blown him a kiss, Sirius failed to notice the way your gaze lingered on Remus, who noticed an unknown glint come to life in your eyes. “Remus?”

“—N-nothing! It was nothing… nevermind,”

4th September 1971

You can’t get over how adorable the marauders look as first years. They might as well be little babies, their cheeks still possess some youthful plumpness and they look ready to grow into their school robes with much more fullness. However, as adorable as you found them to be, you have much more important and urgent matters that need tending to. You can’t believe how you’d forgotten such an important detail until now but seeing Remus was what you needed for the pieces to finally fit together. 

Damocles Belby. Inventor of the Wolfsbane potion in the 1990s. You aren’t sure about the exact year but it definitely wasn’t invented while Remus was in Hogwarts. That was why you were drawn to his quaint potions shop and why his name has been lingering in the back of your mind since that day. 

Regulus didn’t have any classes with Peony today as it was Saturday and you weren’t entirely comfortable with leaving him alone as Orion was out on business. You didn’t hear of his departure personally, he had Kreacher come and notify you in his stead. He’s still being an overgrown baby about what happened in Hogwarts. 

Dumbledore continued to refuse on the matter of Sirius’ re-sorting and firmly refused all attempts of bribery on your husband’s part. It was an unreasonable request and you were all sent out soon after so that Sirius could finish his breakfast and attend his lessons on time. Admittedly, it was better to receive the news from Kreacher rather than Orion. Despite the action being petty and out of anger, you were more than happy with the arrangement and you’ll be sure to return the gesture – whenever you want to relay a message to him, you’ll ask Kreacher for his assistance too. 

Your droopy house elf sees the mischief in your eyes and immediately notices the lack of offence to Orion’s backhanded pettiness when he hiccuped through the message he was sent to deliver. His mistress has changed so much… though he cannot argue that most of the change was pleasant. 

“I hope you’ll forgive me for arranging an outing so suddenly like this,” you sheepishly apologise, helping Regulus with his suspenders before he pulls his cardigan over his neatly pressed shirt. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” he flashes you a precious grin, “I enjoy spending time with you like this,”

It was hard to resist his sweet words and you’re immediately pulling him into an embrace, pressing light kisses onto his face. Regulus flushes a bright pink when you squeal about how ‘sweet’ and ‘precious’ and ‘charming’ he was. You’ve become so much more affectionate and, even though it’s not an unpleasant change, Regulus still finds it hard to adapt to. However, he can’t say he wants to forget or take for granted the feeling of elation and warmth that floods his chest whenever you act lovingly — he’s always dreamed of receiving affection from his mother like this. 

“Please never grow up my darling,” you sigh, already knowing the truth as you lead him to the fireplace where you’ll floo to Diagon Alley together, “but I suppose you’ll always be my little boy, so growing up won’t be too bad,” Regulus doesn’t openly admit that he wouldn’t mind being the way he is forever so long as you continue being such a wonderful mother. 

“Where will we be going, Mother?” Regulus looks up at you with curious eyes upon exiting the fireplace soot-free. He’s already reaching for your hand so you don’t lose each other in the crowds. 

“We’ll be visiting Mr Belby,” you smile fondly at the grin Regulus flashes you. He surely remembers the lovely couple owning the potion shop from when you went first-year shopping for Sirius. 

“I know where that is,” he pipes up when you look around curiously, trying to map out your journey. 

“Oh? Then do you mind leading me the way there, darling?”

“Of course, Mother, this way,” he steps forward and begins leading you along the cobblestone paths. Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was quite reserved compared to the other shops, which made it hard to distinguish, especially when it’s the weekend and more people are out and about.

“You’re so clever, thank you, darling,” you press a kiss onto the crown of Regulus’ head when he leads you beneath the hanging sign of the shop. 

Regulus grins and his chest puffs out ever so slightly, “you’re welcome, Mother,”

Observing the shop in front of you, your brows furrow with worry, “why does it look closed?” despite the observation, you knock on the door while squinting through the empty shop windows. Their sign states they’re open from Monday to Friday between the hours of 8 am and 5 pm. “They should still be open, it’s only 11 o’clock in the morning…” you knock again with more insistence and shout through the door, worried for the couple. Regulus observes your panic with anxious eyes and begins to feel the distress melting into his thoughts and feelings. The Belby couple were lovely, they were good people that no misfortune should ever try to pollute so he dreads to think they’re in any trouble. Your knocks sound as if you were determined to break their door down just to get inside, you were tempted to cast ‘alohamora’ but there would be no use for that, you’ll be arrested for trying to commit ‘breaking and entering’ in broad daylight.  

It wasn’t until Damocles himself seemingly appeared out of nowhere, looking dishevelled and sleep-deprived that you finally stopped knocking, “Madam Black,” Damocles acknowledges as soon as he opens the door to you and Regulus, “I’m afraid we’re closed for today,” to emphasise his point, he presses the closed sign onto the window of his shop’s door.

“Mr Belby, I apologise for being so demanding but this is urgent,” you try to argue, feeling the distant press of Regulus against your legs, his arms circling your waist for comfort. He doesn’t know what’s happening but to see his mother and the kind Mr Belby interact in such a state of distress made him nervous. This was so opposite to their first interaction at the shop. 

“I-I’m afraid I have far more urgent matters to attend to as of this moment,” he reasons breathlessly, trying to close the door shut but you’re determined. Your mind has been set — not only were you going to help Sirius and Regulus but you were going to be there for Remus too. 

“I insist that what I have to say to you is very important as well!”

Damocles incessantly shakes his head, his lips pressed into a thin line as his knuckles turn white from how hard he’s gripping his shop’s door handle, “my dearest Ruth is my top priority right now and she’s terribly sick at the moment, please — I’m sure this can wait!” with that, he slams the door shut, causing you and Regulus to flinch at the harsh sound. You didn’t want to hold off on the situation but you know when a line is drawn and Damocles’ insistent refusal of your entry was more than enough to tell you to back away. 

His behaviour was rather odd, however. When you first met the man and his wife, they were beyond lovely. Both were incredibly welcoming and warm, looking down at Regulus, you see the confusion in his clear, steel-grey eyes also. 

“Let's try again on Monday, darling,” Regulus nods at your suggestion. His small brows were furrowed with concern and he seemed hesitant to look away from you despite the smile of reassurance you give him. It warmed your heart seeing how troubled he was over your predicament with Mr Belby; you couldn’t resist kissing away the wrinkle between his brows, “don’t worry, my dear, patience is key when it comes to things like this,” 

Giving one last lingering glance at Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, you redirect Regulus to Gringotts. It rose higher than any of the other buildings in Diagon Alley so it was relatively easy to spot and head towards. Before heading home for the day, you had one more errand to take care of. 

˖  ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔݁ ˖

Filgus was easy to spot, he was the goblin you immediately walked to upon entering the opulent establishment. His sharp, angular features help hold up a monocle over his right eye as a gold chain trails down to the breast pocket of his smart, black suit, though he wears no tie. His healthy head of silver hair is pushed back and tied into a small ponytail at the base of his neck. He looks much younger than his colleagues from the largely less wrinkled visage of his countenance, it was no wonder that entertained your previous request. 

“Madam Black,” Filgus smiles at you, content with your polite, formal greeting. He smiles at Regulus too, who mirrors the goblin greeting at your side, “How may I help you?” he smirks beneath his long and pointed nose. Past the reflections of his monocle, you catch a faint gleam in his eyes, though you can’t comprehend exactly what emotion stands behind it. Was it excitement? Curiosity? Something else entirely, perhaps… “Will you be requesting another commission for our services?” you smile, finally understanding the look in his black, black eyes. 

“Although I highly commend your metalsmith expertise, I am here for a different affair,“ your words pique Regulus’ interest and he begins to speculate whether you had the goblins make Sirius’ Gryffindor pin – it would be an incredible feat if you did, "I only hope to open two new vaults today,” your request eases Filgus’ posture and his action to lean back make you realise the full extent of his previous excitement. It almost makes you want to apologise for not meeting his expectations. 

The first time you had come to him for a commission request, he had been surprised and you suppose he had been able to conceal his delight well but now his disappointment was more obvious. It made you want to giggle but you didn’t want to accidentally offend him or any of the other goblins nearby so you kept your amusement to yourself. 

“That’s simple enough,”

“I want both vaults to have the same precautions and safeguards as the Black family vaults,” his quill stops momentarily as he makes a point of raising a brow at your specifications. A beat passes and he finishes off what he was writing. 

“Who will these vaults be for?”

“They will be for my sons. One for Sirius Orion Black the third,” you reach over to wrap your arm around Regulus’ small shoulders, “and the other for Regulus Arcturus Black,” 

“Unusual,” Filgus comments under his breath but makes his notes regardless of the uncommon application from the Black family matriarch herself. This was not tradition for ancient, noble wizarding families to create a separate vault entirely when they all simply shared one vault. The only reason for something like this to happen would be when someone was disowned by their family and are forced to start from a completely empty vault. Filgus looks up from the parchment he was writing on, only to meet eyes with Regulus who looks white as a ghost and frozen with fear. The sight makes the goblin chuckle under his breath and shakes his head subtly. Even if he wanted to, he had no words of comfort to offer the young wizard. 

“I want the vaults for my sons to be entirely separate from the Black family vaults — nowhere near it,”

“Consider it done. The keys and paperwork will be delivered to you soon enough,”

“Thank you very much, Filgus,” you nod with a smile, “and I assure you that I will be back to request another commission soon enough,” he smirks beneath his pointed nose and his black eyes seem to light up despite their soulless darkness. He says nothing more as you lead Regulus out of Gringotts for the journey home.  

Beside you, Regulus is filled with dread to the point that he feels sick. Getting a separate vault means only one thing and the realisation makes his eyes sting with globulous tears. Looking up at you, his mind flashes with all the happy memories you’ve shared with him and Sirius the past month or so — was that all just a lie? Were you such a good actor that you managed to babble that prideful speech to Sirius at Hogwarts on the spot? Did you always mean to disown them? But then why did you put so much effort into bonding with them like this? It’s too cruel…

“Darling!” you panic at the river of tears running down Regulus’ flushed cheeks. Stepping out of Gringotts, you were just about to ask Regulus if he’d fancy stopping by a sweet shop to bring something yummy home to indulge in and maybe get something for Kreacher too, only to be met by the pitiful image of your youngest sobbing and clinging onto the draping silhouette of your dress skirt. You sweep him up into your arms and move to a bench placed in a, somewhat, secluded location so that you can have a modicum of privacy. “Oh, sweetheart…” you coo and gently brush back his hair with your fingers, “please tell me what’s the matter so that I can help you feel better…” he mutters something incoherent under his breath and in between his hiccups but you ask him to repeat it as you couldn’t hear the first time.  

“Y-you’re going to disown me and Sirius…“ he sobs before throwing himself at your lap and crying into your skirt, “Please don’t disown us, we’ll be good, I promise!” you couldn’t take hearing his tearful cries any longer and you scoop him up again so you could hug him tightly as he wraps his arms over your shoulders to sob into your neck, his legs wrapping around your waist. 

‘Openly crying in public?! HOW DISGRACEFUL! LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE DONE TO MY SONS YOU WRETCHED THING!’ Walburga screeches in your head but you’re quick to hush her up, completely ignoring her piggish squealing to focus on comforting Regulus. ‘THEY COULD HAVE BEEN TRAINED AND DISCIPLINED INTO HONOURABLE SONS BEFORE YOUR INFLUENCE BUT NOW IT’S COMPLETELY HOPELESS!’ She can rant and squeal and screech as much as she wants, you’re not responding to a single thing. Regulus was much more important right now. 

You sit there with him, softly shushing his sobs and patting his back comfortingly as he cries and cries until his eyes run dry. In his panic and distress, Regulus wasn’t in the right headspace to listen to any consoling words you had to say so you waited. It wasn’t until the neckline of your black dress was made damp with Regulus’ tears that you finally whispered your consolation, he had managed to quiet down to small hiccups and shy sniffles. 

“There is no way on earth that I would ever ever disown you or Sirius, let alone both of you,” you press a kiss to Regulus’ temple, blinking back your tears at the intense display of sadness from your usually mild-mannered son. 

“B-but,” Regulus protests, pulling away to look at you with wide, swollen eyes, “you’ve created a separate vault for me and Sirius, that can only mean one thing…” he explains, making you realise your careless actions. 

“Oh darling, I’m not disowning you at all…” you wipe your thumbs beneath his eyes, offering a sad, apologetic smile for having conveyed such confusing intentions, “I only wanted to make sure you and your brother had something to put your belongings in and have a place for your savings that nobody else can touch,” he tilts his head curiously at you, “it’s to set you and your brother up well for the future. These vaults are for your and your brother’s possessions only, nobody else’s. For now, I’ll have your keys and help you save up some galleons until you’re old enough. I know that we’re a very rich family but there’s no harm in having your own vaults so that you and your brother can start adulthood on a good foundation,”

“…th-that’s all?”

“That’s all,” you nuzzle his nose with your own and kiss his forehead, making him giggle — such a beautiful sound. 

He throws his arms over your shoulders and gives you a tight squeeze, “Thank you, Mother,” you can hear the relief dripping from his voice and it makes your heart clench. 

“I’m sorry for the misunderstanding, darling,” 

“It’s okay…” he whispers shyly, not wanting to pull away so you could witness the flush of embarrassment dusting his cheeks. 

“Next time you’re worried about something, please talk to me, okay? I don’t want you to worry needlessly,”

Regulus nods and pulls away to grin brightly at you, “Okay!” you bought him a lot of sweets at the shops after that. 

11th September 1971 

You visited Belby’s Potions and Ingredients every day for the next week and it was always closed. After some time, you take the trips without Regulus, opting for going by yourself while he’s being tutored by Peony. Usually, you’d make your way home after realising there would be no signs of the couple appearing any time soon. There wasn’t a single light on behind the shop’s windows. Its interior was motionless, like a space suspended in time — nothing was out of place, it was merely still… and it stayed like that for an entire week.

An unhealthy amount of concern was beginning to build up in the pit of your stomach for the couple — perhaps Ruth’s illness the previous week was truly debilitating and when you remember your insensitivity, dominated by desperation, your chest constricts with shame atop the mounting anxiety. After your visit with Regulus, you had purchased a moon calendar and discovered that Remus would be experiencing his first transformation the following night and you suppose that realisation didn’t help your anxiety over the issue. He was going to be experiencing his first transformation so quickly, he barely would have settled into Hogwarts. For that sweet, kind and anxious boy, you were willing to do anything atop all the things you were already planning to do for Sirius and Regulus. 

Belby’s Potions and Ingredients was just ahead now, the muscle memory of the journey there easily guiding your feet and allowing your mind to wonder about the young lycanthrope attending Hogwarts with your firstborn. You were anticipating another uneventful but worrisome visit, however, the sight of an ‘open’ sign hanging on the door made your heart stop. For a moment, you paused, frozen in place and took the time to digest what you were seeing in front of you. You have to confirm that it wasn’t a dream or an illusion that your mind conjured up in its noxious mixture of fret and despair. 

No, this was real! 

Pushing open the door, you rush inside and immediately call out to the potioneer, “Mr Belby! Mr Belby!” you meet the bearded man at his designated station behind the front counter. Beneath his eyes are the faintest trace of dark circles but he manages to smile at your bright demeanour. 

“Good morning, Madam Black,” he greets, somewhat, cheerfully, “how may I help you today?”

With warmth in your eyes, you redirect his statement, “Actually, I was hoping to help you today…” as eager as you were to offer your aide and investment in the brilliant potioneer’s talents, his appearance was a sharp contrast to your first meeting that you were swamped with worry. Damocles gives an inquisitive look at your statement and prompts you for an explanation but it falls on deaf ears when you remember his words the previous week. “How is Ruth?” guilt tugs at your heartstrings and the emotion easily shows on your features, “Is she feeling better?”

Happy to divert from your earlier words in favour of his wife, Damocles smiles rather grimly and nods, “She has quite the weak constitution, especially after an episode,” he’s careful with his words and expertly continues despite his true emotions pleading to take control of his expressions. At times there’s an odd quirk in his smile or a misplaced dullness in his eyes — gone was the man you greeted at your first encounter. He looked poorly. Dishevelled and weighed down by something heavy. Someone so kind, loving and passionate about his work didn’t deserve such troubles. 

“And it’s lasted an entire week?” you’re saddened by his confirming nod and hum, “Is she here? At the shop?” you don’t wait until he confirms nor denies; you’re already stepping towards an isolated but well-loved corner of the quaint shop. 

“Madam Black…” a weak, melodious voice greets you. Approaching Ruth in her rocking chair, you offer a kind smile, happy to see her in, somewhat, good health. “I apologise that my illness has deprived the business of my husband,” she is humbly sheepish and her radiant countenance almost distracts you from her trembling hands. It isn’t a secret how devitalised she is but to still attempt her embroidery in her eroded state makes your chest tighten.

“I’m just happy you’re doing better,” you try to forget the careless words you had desperately shouted the week previous. It wasn’t your intention to be so insensitive and you wouldn’t dare wish any ill-will towards Ruth. The Belby couple are incredibly pleasant people and a treasure to have for company. You suppose that your eagerness to help Remus with his lycanthropy was too strong to resist – not only can you help Sirius and Regulus, but you can help many more of your beloved characters too. 

“Thank you, Madam Black,” Ruth has the loveliest smile, it breaks your heart to know that she’s suffering from such a debilitating, chronic illness. 

“I can’t imagine being as lovely as you despite needing a week to recover from an episode—” You pause and look upon Ruth with searching eyes. Aside from her face, she is covered head-to-toe in clothing. Leaning on the wall was a simple cane within her reach. And, if you weren’t mistaken, exactly a week before today, was a full moon…

“Ruth, my dear, your potion,” Damocles gently reminds, pulling out a phial of the iconic magenta healing potion. You recognise it immediately. It’s the same healing potion you’ve been forced to endure because of the degenerate bitch stuck in your head causing you to faint multiple times. 

“Darling, you’re a wonderful potioneer but I’d rather not consume another healing potion right now. I’ll be sick, otherwise,” Ruth politely declines. Her attentive husband directly goes to protest but you’re quick to interfere. 

“Mr Belby, when did you say Ruth had her episode?” 

“Last week,” he answers nonchalantly, still entirely focused on his wife, who continues to resist his resolute demands of needing to drink the potion. 

“That was a full moon…” the couple pause and a stillness consumes the space. It’s as if you’re suddenly in a vacuum, where time doesn’t exist and everything is at a standstill. “Is Ruth suffering from Lycanthropy?” you take care to keep any form of judgement out of your voice, your tone is neutral, your volume levelled and there isn’t a trace of disdain in your eyes. To avoid causing a huge stir, you try to keep neutral but a warm sadness and soft compassion manages to sneak onto your countenance. 

“Ruth’s illness is not your concern, Madam Black,” Damocles’ voice is strong, commanding and protective. His firm stance as he partially stands in the way of his wife demands that you pull back and stay at a distance. 

“Are you trying to find a cure?” you ask, completely impartial now and, almost, chillingly stoic. Damocles doesn’t answer. You glimpse their connected hands, their grip on each other is as strong as a tightly wound knot; it would be a struggle to pry them apart. “If you are, there isn’t a cure—” 

“I WON’T STAND FOR ANY VERBALLY DEMEANING REMARKS AGAINST MY WIFE! GET OUT! YOU ARE NOT WELCOME HERE!”

“I haven’t said anything of the sort to Ruth…” you smile kindly at the potioneer and reach out your hand, “I want to help you,”

“HYPOCRITE!” his loud volume makes you immediately retract your hand. From her seat, Ruth places a gentle hand on her husband’s forearm, a silent plea to give you a chance. Damocles doesn’t fully yield his anger but, in respect of his wife, lowers his voice slightly, "You just denied that a cure could be made!” he can’t trust you. You are a Black, the matriarch, in fact — your entire family despise dark creatures, even those that were afflicted without their consent, much like his dearest. He won’t let you lay a finger on his wife. 

“I said that only because that goal is too ambitious for the moment.” your comment makes Damocles pause, shocked but thoughtful, “I can’t encourage you to make a cure right away but I will support you in the endeavour to create a potion that will relieve the symptoms of Lycanthropy,”

“Support, how?” 

“Funding?” you suggest, “I can help you get expensive ingredients. Or maybe I can help you with research? Or I can keep Ruth company while you focus on your work entirely? I can do all of that and more if you will only let me,” 

The couple look at each other with curious eyes that also fill with fear and hope. 

“…what do you hope to gain from this?” Damocles needed to know. He just couldn’t fathom that someone of such high standing in the wizarding world, who was infamous for her intolerance of dark creatures, muggles, half-bloods and everything that didn’t reflect her skewedimage of ‘pure’ was in favour of helping him, the husband to a lycanthrope.

“I have no ulterior motives… I only wish to turn over a new leaf and help those that I can,” 

“I don’t believe you,” Damocles looks at you with suspicious eyes, narrowed and sharp. He is a contrasting image to the kind and warm man you first met at the counter on Sirius’ Hogwarts shopping day. 

“Then believe that I also have someone…” you look at Ruth, meeting her gentle eyes with a soft stare, “Believe that I have someone I deeply care about and wish to help with their Lycanthropy too,” you’re unable to break eye contact with Ruth; she can comprehend the deep sorrow in your eyes along with a determination that cannot be rivalled. It connects with her deep down, making her heart ache with feelings of desperation and painful hope.  

Damocles is torn. Ever since meeting his current wife, he has wanted nothing more than to use his expertise in potions to help her condition. It was an ambition he had been doing alone largely due to the prejudicial opinions surrounding Lycanthropy. It’s been years and his progress has barely been noticeable. All he’s been able to achieve are potions that barely have an effect. His recent potion was the most progress he’s ever made, where he was able to reduce her anxieties during the transformation. It was only thanks to the powdered moonstone he had managed to get a hold of. If he can have easy access to such valuable ingredients, his progression on the potion will be exponential. But he resists. He’s getting carried away by the excitement of possibilities, not only will he be helping his wife but he will have the opportunity to work with high-quality, precious ingredients again. He was a potioneer, not a businessman so his shop is barely keeping him and his wife afloat, their heads barely above the water of bills and necessities.

Ruth looks at her husband’s thoughtful countenance. She feels such guilt for burdening him with her condition but she doesn’t regret marrying him and promising to share the rest of her life with the kind man. Damocles makes the effort to always support her and assure her that he loves her regardless of her condition and affiliated insecurities. He loves her for her smile, her beautiful eyes, her delicious cooking, her kind heart, her precious love of books, her talent for embroidery, her loving words and the fact that he feels whole with her. The moment he said his vows and uttered the words ‘I do’, he had pledged to take care of her wholeheartedly and he intends to keep that promise, in the same fashion she does.    

“Sweetheart…” Ruth pleads with her eyes, staring up at her husband as tears well up in their eyes. They don’t know your full intentions but they’re willing to do whatever it takes. 

‘I want to take care of her,’

‘I want to be good to him’

“…alright, it’s a deal,”

You leave the store with the promise of visiting the Belby couple again soon, where you plan on catching up with Damocles’ progress and discuss future endeavours with the confidential project. The buzz and thrill pulse through your arterial system like an effusive river, unable to stop and eager to run its course all the way to its estuary but you don’t have one so the rush will have to calm on its own. 

This was a step forward in helping Remus and Ruth as well as many more werewolves across the country. The week you were shut out of the shop because of Damocles’ absence, you’ve been relentlessly planning your future tactics. It’s led to further elaborations on your other plans as well as the inclusion of other entirely new plots. You not only have the power and insight to help your darling sons but a myriad of other characters as well. There wasn’t going to be a chance of you doing one without the other now. Everything is interconnected in this universe; if you help Remus, you’ll also be helping Sirius and Regulus. Everything connects to your beautiful sons — you weren’t going to neglect a single path forward. It’s ambitious but when has a challenge ever stopped you from moving forward somehow? Never. 

Entering 12 Grimmauld Place, you were met with an eerie quietness. Searching for the time on the grandfather clock down the hall, you realise that Regulus would have finished his lesson a little while ago, nearing half an hour. The realisation jumpstarts your nerves and you’re rushing up the stairs to greet him at the Library; that’s where he usually goes to consolidate his lesson notes. You can vividly imagine him bent over a desk, carefully skimming over inky parchment as a plate of snacks and a cup of tea sit within arms reach of him, courtesy of Kreacher. When you peek into the Library, however, there isn’t a trace of Regulus anywhere. Where could he be? Regulus is fond of his routines and doesn’t normally stray from them, especially when it comes to his workflow study habits. 

Why do I have a bad feeling?... You think to yourself, placing a trembling hand over your thundering heart. The silence around you is deafening now and you have to hold back on rampaging through the house. Orion is home… In situations like this, you must stay calm. If Orion has done something to Regulus, it’ll be best if he doesn’t know you’ve come home yet. 

“Mistress! Mistress!” Kreacher appears out of thin air, tugging anxiously at his ears with eyes as wide as saucers. The panic in his watery gaze sets your own heart racing with apprehension. You already know what may be happening.

“Where is Regulus?”

“The vault, Mistress! The vault!”

You’ve never been in the very upper levels of the house before. It never felt worthy of exploration when you wanted to focus on your boys and the plans you’re slowly beginning to implement for them and the universe. 

The uppermost floor of the house was an attic space that had the far end shut off as a separate room. This area must be due to some space-warping magic because the roof was flat from the outside but the ceiling of this large room had the typical triangular roof shape. Boxes and other miscellaneous items litter about the, otherwise, sparse area, providing plenty of nooks and crannies for spiders and other creepy-crawlies to make a home in. Kreacher stays by the skirt of your dress, trembling from restlessness as you lean further into the room. He informed you that Regulus was forcibly dragged up here by Orion as soon as he saw off Peony at the fireplace. Orion had been peacefully reading The Daily Prophet in an armchair in the corner of the living room. Regulus was jumped by his own father. The old dirtbag must still be incensed by Sirius’ sorting ceremony and what had occurred at the Headmaster’s office. 

Narrowing your gaze, you focus on Orion, who leans against the locked door of the attic’s separate room. The iron wall that sectioned it off blended into the metal door that was firmly shut. From within that small, hollow, metal room came desperate banging, presumably from Regulus hitting the walls with his closed fists. The thought makes your hand clench around your wand tightly. This pathetic bastard has a death wish…

“If your brother had been sorted into Slytherin this wouldn’t be happening Regulus! How big of a disappointment the both of you are!”

“Father! I’m sorry!” Regulus’ pleading comes out muffled through the metal walls and door, you can barely hear him. It makes you want to hollow out your chest with the way your heart is relentlessly clenching down on itself.

“When you turn eleven and enter Hogwarts, you better be sorted into Slytherin OR ELSE YOU WILL BE IN FOR A WORLD OF PAIN! DO YOU HEAR ME?!”

“…n-no father…” 

“WHAT WAS THAT?!!! REGULUS?!!!” Orion’s angry shout was met with silence and he punches the mental door in anger, the force making the structure shake, “ANSWER ME, BOY!”

“Flippendo!”you utter angrily under your breath with your wand raised at Orion’s turned back. The spell sends him flying forward with a startled scream. His head hits the metal door and he’s immediately knocked unconscious. You don’t wait a second further to rush forward and unlock the metal door. It takes a great amount of effort to pull open with its heftiness but maternal instincts make it as simple as opening any normal door. 

“Mother!” Regulus cries at the sight of you from where he’s seated directly behind the door. The enclosed space was incredibly dark, there wasn’t a window anywhere. With the light filtering in past your silhouette, you looked like an angel sent to rescue him. 

“Let's get you out of this horrid room, darling,” it’s hard to relax or temper your anger when you’re looking upon your trembling son who should only ever be smiling. You don’t want him spending a second longer in this horrible attic so you quickly lift him into your arms and rush him down to his room as he cries freely from relief. 

You weren’t in a hurry to get Regulus settled beneath his blankets and tucked in; having him in your arms was a firm reassurance that he’s with you, safe and sound so you’re reluctant to let him go. Nevertheless, you get him settle him down and sit at his bedside before flicking your wand up. The gesture draws back the curtains to their furthest limits and opens up the windows to allow in some fresh air. 

“You’re okay, darling. Mother’s here now…” you whisper, gently petting his forehead and combing back his inky curls. Beneath the covers, Regulus can’t seem to stop himself from shaking but enjoys the sunlight pouring in through the windows and the cooling breeze that caresses his pale, tear-streaked cheeks. He hasn’t said a single word and neither have you. His gaze remains transfixed on the open window where the blue skies are decorated with floating clouds. You watch as his anxious expression gradually loosens, unfurling into one without emotion. “My love?…” the tension in Regulus’ small shoulders and tight limbs melts away when your voice finally breaks through the ringing in his ears. “I’m so sorry…I didn’t mean to leave you home alone…”

His eyes flicker up to hold your gaze. He watches as tears gather at your waterline before spilling over in a cascade of glittering diamonds, created under the mounted pressure that was your love and panic for him and his wellbeing.

“Mother is so incredibly sorry,” you cradle his small hand in your own before pressing his palm against your tearful cheek. “Please forgive me, I promise I won’t let this happen ever again,”

You had nothing to be sorry for. It wasn’t your fault. Regulus was frightened and shaken up by his father’s aggressive and malicious expression of contempt, you had done nothing. Regulus would willingly go through that all over again if it meant his father didn’t get to touch Sirius. For the longest time, Sirius had been his only protector and now he has you too. He can bear anything if it means keeping his older brother safe the same way he kept Regulus safe before you came to protect both of them. For the longest time, it felt as if they were the only two people who truly understood each other — it still largely feels that way — and that they were the only ones who knew how to protect each other properly. But that wasn’t the case anymore because they have you now. Beautiful, amazing, motherly you. 

Oftentimes, Regulus would remember the day you had such a drastic personality change. It started normal despite the odd behaviour you had been partaking in leading up to that moment, spending more time in the private quarters meant only for the ladies of the Black family. It had been happening for weeks and the behaviour was odd but since it’s led to such a change of heart in you, the two brothers didn’t question it. 

Here you are now, apologising for his father’s abuse and tearfully pleading for his forgiveness. Regulus never would have imagined witnessing the beautiful image of his mother expressing such sincere sorrow and guilt over his ailing form. The youngest Black thinks he could be dreaming, still back in that claustrophobic attic vault and conjuring up a hallucination to save himself from the mental turmoil the small space puts him through. Sirius had nothing to worry about when he left for Hogwarts because, no matter what, you’ll be there for him and Regulus, even if it means going against Orion. 

“It’s okay, Mother,” Regulus softly smiles up at you, his brows furrowing slightly when his words make your tears pour out in more globulous amounts. 

“This won’t happen again, I swear it,” you press a kiss against his small palm. 

“I know,” the trust and belief Regulus has in you shines through in the glimmer of his eyes, catching the sunlight pouring in from his windows. With your heart stuttering in your chest, you pause before opening your arms and leaning forward to embrace his form through the blankets. “NO!”with a loud shout, Regulus pushes you away and presses his eyes tightly closed.

When Regulus opens his eyes again, you’re frozen in place with wide, shocked eyes. You don’t know what to do. In your chest, your heart breaks at the notion that Regulus doesn’t want to be touched by you but there’s a side of you that reassures his reaction is natural considering what he had just gone through. The conflicting emotions freeze up your limbs and leave you motionless, vulnerable to be swayed onto either side.

Realisation dawns on the youngest Black brother and a frightened gasp escapes him before he’s apologising profusely. Tears reappear at his waterline and threaten to spill over at the thought of pushing you away when all you wanted to do was comfort him. He needs to explain! He has to explain! 

Please don’t hate me! Please don’t hate me! Pleasedon’thateme!

“I’m sorry, Mother!” Regulus reaches for your hand and squeezes it in between his own, “I-I don’t feel comfortable in tight spaces, I don’t want to be h-hugged right now,” you have reminded him and Sirius multiple times that they have the right to communicate their emotions, wants and needs. The important thing you always emphasised was that you would never be angry at them for doing that – Regulus is holding you to your word but waits with bated breath for your response.  

His words were all the confirmation you needed to relax. Of course, that was what he was worried about most. How stupid and selfish of you to make this situation about yourself when Regulus had gone through something so traumatising. 

“Don’t worry, my love, I should have been more considerate of you,” you carefully shush him and wipe away his silent tears, resisting the urge to lean in and take up more of his personal space, “please don’t cry, you have nothing to be sorry for…if you don’t feel comfortable with anything please tell me right away. I promise I won’t get angry or take offence,” you look into his eyes earnestly, reiterating the words you always reminded him and his brother of. It makes Regulus smile softly; you kept your word, “I only want you to be comfortable and happy, always, okay?”

Regulus calms down and nods affirmatively, his smile growing. You agree to hold his hand in silence while he falls asleep and relish being allowed to stay close despite what happened to him earlier. His hand is small but his grip is strong, he doesn’t seem to want to let go of your hand, even in his sleep. You will protect him forever and always. 

While Regulus rests peacefully in his room, you carefully slip away from his hold to make dinner. His favourite. So is dessert. He’ll be eating all of his favourites for the next week and he’s getting spoiled rotten. As usual, Kreacher accompanies you and ambles about the kitchen under your precise instructions, however, you have a special task for him tonight. 

“Is Orion still unconscious in the attic, Kreacher?” you ask monotonously. 

“Y-yes mistress,“

“Good,” you chirp cheerfully, “Please move him to the bottom of the third staircase,” Kreacher gives you a curious look but doesn’t question your intentions. 

“And then, mistress?”

“Leave him there,” in a blink, Kreacher had disappeared to do your bidding. The house elf doesn’t know what you have planned for the patriarch but knows it would be to avenge the young master. That was enough for Kreacher. 

When Kreacher rejoins you in the kitchen to finish preparing Regulus’ dinner, you proceed to tell him that he move Orion to bed as soon as he wakes up. But only when he wakes up. 

“Whatever the mistress says,” Kreacher nods. 

When you bring up the trays for Regulus, he’s still peacefully asleep in bed so you place his food at his bedside and ask Kreacher to keep the meal warm by putting a spell on the plates like he often does with yours and the boys’ tea. It’s then that the wrinkly elf perks up and alerts you that Orion has awoken. Nodding briefly at him, he disappears with a snap of his fingers and you immediately know he’s gone to do as you’ve asked earlier on. While he does that, you fetch Orion’s dinner as well, which is simple tomato soup with garlic bread — it’s more than he deserves. 

As soon as you enter the room with the food tray, you hear Orion muttering to himself bitterly as he sits up in bed, “Useless house elf, leaving me at the bottom of the stairs,”

“I told Kreacher to leave you there,” you explain gently as you approach his bedside. 

“WHAT?!”

“Calm down, Orion, you’ll only hurt yourself more if you act so excited after just waking up,” as if on cue, Orion groans and falls back with a hand pressed against his temple, “See? Here, I’ve made dinner to help you feel better, eat it at your own pace,” it hurts you to smile at him after what he’s done to your sweet, precious Regulus but you have to be patient. You’ll bring the axe down on his neck soon. You can’t believe you were willing to settle for divorce alone but that’s not enough for someone like him. Now, you have something much more fitting in mind.

“Why did you tell Kreacher to leave me there?” Orion doesn’t take the food right away, only giving it a brief side-ways glance before trying to figure out what happened. 

“It was for your safety. It looked like you hit your head and that’s a very sensitive place, I was worried that if he moved you, he’d end up carelessly hurting you even more and we don’t want that…”

With a huff, he deems your explanation decent enough and finally sits up again, reaching for his food. You smile even more, eagerly anticipating his replenishment on your home-cooked meal when he stops to ask something, “Did you have something to do with this?…” He gestures to his temple subtly, referring to his injury. 

“Of course, I did,” you answer simply, ignoring the blend of shock and fury that consumes his expression, “I made sure your meal was very nutritious so you can heal properly,”

“That’s not what I—… never mind,” Orion sighs in defeat and slowly begins to eat in bed. He gives an occasional groan of protest, reaching up and making it obvious how uncomfortable his temple is, silently asking for additional attention and care. He’s not getting any of that from you. Rather, you quite enjoy his uncomfortable musings. You won’t take initiative, instead, you’ll wait until he explicitly asks for a healing potion before finally giving him one. You’ll ensure that Kreacher is informed of this too. He’s a mere house elf, after all, your stupid husband can’t expect Kreacher to make any helpful suggestions. 

“Make sure to eat everything, it’s to help with your health, okay?” you leave him to finish off his meal alone, smiling all the way to Regulus’ room. 

‘YOU PUT SOMETHING IN MY HUSBAND’S FOOD! I SAW IT!’ Walburga screeches in your head. For once, it comes out as music to your ears. The laxatives were from a muggle store so she has no clue what you’ve done.

‘Now, now Walburga,’ you inwardly voice in a patient and gentle tone, ‘Orion was very naughty doing that to Regulus while I was away. So kindly SHUT THE FUCK UP AND ENJOY THE SHOW YOU FOUL, EMACIATED, UGLY BITCH!’ that shuts her up nicely just as you’re about to enter Regulus’ bedroom again, smirking to yourself at Orion’s imminent doom.  

‘Enjoy the explosive diarrhoea you disgusting prick,' 

You also manage to bring up a second helping of food so you can eat together with Regulus when he finally wakes and has the appetite for dinner. In the meantime, you brought your notebook of plans to continue your scheming at Regulus’ desk. You had spent some time admiring his layout and the way he organises his stationery. He has quite a mature system in place for someone so young but it was something you admired — you can tell how incredibly bright his future is going to be just from seeing how he sets up his workplace. Truthfully, the set-up helped motivate you more, you want to preserve your youngest son’s hopes, dreams, happiness and everything about him so that he can live a fulfilled life — not even his desk will be touched by those with malicious intent or anyone that wanted to drag him down. 

Your specific plans for tonight focus solely on the wolfsbane potion and trying to remember everything about it in your universe. From the corner of your eye, you have the perfect image of Regulus peacefully sleeping in bed, tucked up and cosy. There isn’t a single sign of terror to agitate his precious features, rather, he looks completely at peace. This is how he should always look. The image encourages you to push forward, trying to remember any bit of helpful information from your previous life as a Harry Potter fan. Even if the clue may seem unhelpful or completely made up, you write it down regardless. 

‘All this and for what?!’ the nagging voice in the back of your head makes another appearance but you simply roll your eyes. If you give her more attention than she deserves, you’ll only spur her on more, ‘not only is my son part of that foolish house but you’re making such efforts for disgusting half-breeds! Ridiculous! Have you no shame?!’she screeches unpleasantly to the point of making your inner ears ache. However, it was at that moment that a thought occurred to you. It’s strange…very strange. Orion made his displeasure of Sirius’ sorting known the instant he heard the news but Walburga only voices her dissatisfaction now. 

‘When I think about it… you didn’t freak out half as much as Orion when letters gossiping of Sirius’ sorting came. I was fully predicting a meltdown that would put me in a coma for a day or two,’ you internally voice, passing it off as an innocuous comment in the hopes that it leaves her naive to your true intentions. 

‘Your sickening plans for that pin were too much of a distraction!’Walburga excuses as you keep quiet. If you interrupt her ramblings, you won’t be able to pick up on the reasoning behind her actions. It’s best to let her get ahead of herself, the fool, ‘Typical for a soft-hearted, feeble muggle like you! Celebrating such a dishonourable sorting ceremony result! It’s simply humiliating! Rather than that revolting pin, I sent that no good son of mine a howler the day after his sorting. Useless child! He’s no Black, he’s a no-good, mud-blood-loving, blood-traitor who likes to engage with half-breeds and is an utter disgrace to his family! Associating himself with that ‘light’ Potter family, engaging with filthy mudbloods and blood traitors — dirty! The lot of them! Regulus is my only good child, if only he hadn’t gotten himself killed trying to leave the organisation, he would have been my perfect son!’

‘H— How do you know that?…and how do you know about his ‘half-breed’ friend you vile piece of shit?’ as always, her disgusting attitude makes your blood boil on Remus’ and Ruth’s behalf. How dare she act so high and mighty when she’s the most unpleasant person to ever exist? She doesn’t answer your question, instead, she becomes eerily quiet once more. Scoffing at her cowardly departure from the conversation, you make an urgent annotation in your notebook. Hopefully, this will lead to some answers. 

‘Investigate the first room you woke up in’

SERIES M.LIST | NEXT. 07 : INVESTIGATIONS →

A/N : This was longer than I intended but a lot has happened so I hope you enjoy the read regardless. I'm sorry for what happened to our baby but we'll be there for him as you were able to see. No way are we letting that slide nor are we going to let that happen any longer. 

Thank you again to all the darlings who always show their love and support of this series, even though I adore writing it and planning future chapters, it's also really time-consuming and exhausting to keep up at points so it really means a lot when I see that you darlings enjoy the read and look forward to series updates. 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[sigma-alpha-writer-chad]

Grow Up, Would You? [Josh Washington]

“I don’t know if you’ve changed any since middle school but I really hope you’ve learned the difference between pranking somebody and just being a fucking bully.”

You can also find this story on Ao3!

Chapter Two / Chapter Three / Chapter Four

[CHAPTER THREE]

Italics = Events taking place prior to the "present day" of the story!

It had been a quiet day, so far. That morning was easily one of the best I'd had in who knew how long. Everybody had been leaving me alone. I was grateful for the peace and quiet, though I couldn't relax fully. Somebody had to be planning something. Despite the thoughts, I wanted to have a good day.

I really wanted to have one good day.

The cafeteria was big. Rows of long, rectangular tables were filled with middle schoolers chatting about their day and eating their lunches. Some had home packed lunches filled with goodies they could trade off for something better or in exchange for cheating off homework, and some children had the school lunch. It was pizza today. Square pies with cubes of pepperoni on them. Many people didn't like them but they were always one of my favorites.

I looked around me. I couldn't see anybody who would've wanted to pull something on me.

I couldn't see Josh.

It had been years since anyone else had done anything to me without him participating or sort of approving it. If he wasn't at school that day, I would be free for the day. It was the only explanation I had that day for the lack of terror I'd faced.

I stood in the line for the pizza and spotted my cousin, Chris, and his friend Ashley. I called for them, and they allowed a bunch of kids in front of them to move towards my spot in line.

"Hey, cousin," Chris greeted me. "Last year of lunch together, huh?" He was one year my senior, meaning next year he would be in high school, a building separate from mine. "Is that why you seem to be in such a good mood?"

"Yep, you keep saying," I responded as a grin grew across my face. "Poor Jordan, without her big cousin around. Whatever will the humble 8th grader-to-be do?"

"Celebrate?" Ashley chimed in. "No more Josh, right?" I smiled wider and nodded. Chris made a face at Ashley for bringing it up. He obviously wanted to say something, but didn't. We moved forward in the line.

"I can't wait to have some peace," I admitted. For a moment I wondered what it would be like. Would the teasing and pranks really stop, or would they just be exacted upon me by someone else? I shook the thoughts from my head, but not my smile.

"Josh isn't that bad," Chris defended. "He's my best friend. Why are you so mean about him?" My expression faltered slightly.

"Why is he so mean about me? Why are you always on Josh's side?" I retorted. "You're no better, really. You're just my less mean cousin." I crossed my arms. Day ruined. "I'm tired of always being the one who is upset and ruins everything when you guys are the ones who upset me in the first place." Chris's face turned red in embarrassment and frustration, and I could tell he felt guilty, as well. He pushed up his glasses.

"They're just jokes! It's not my fault you're just a cry baby 7th grader and nobody likes you." I frowned, hard, and my appetite was no longer.

"Where is this coming from?" I asked, tears brimming my eyes. Chris was always sensitive yet defensive in 8th grade, quick to bite if he felt cornered. I tried to remember what my mother had told me about when people are mean to you for no reason - that they feel bad about themselves. I could see Chris's expression drop when I started to cry. At that point, though, it'd meant nothing. Time and time again he or Josh or someone else would make me upset, he would feel bad as soon as I started to cry, and then do it again the next week.

I left the lunch line and made a beeline straight for my homeroom class. Mr. Brown would allow me to just sit at my desk during lunch if I'd wanted, so oftentimes that's what I did.

He greeted me as I entered, but said nothing else as I went to sit down. He was the only teacher who seemed to understand I didn't like to talk about the pranks pulled by my peers, especially because the school would do nothing about it anyways.

"Somebody left something for you in your desk," Mr. Brown said. His expression was soft and mildly worried, likely due to the obvious tears I had running down my face. "Should we look together?" My lips pressed into a thin line as I nodded and my heart rate picked up. He stood up and made his way towards me.

"Who left it?" I asked warily, standing up as to not be trapped if water sprayed out of the desk.

Again.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "They were in and out pretty fast. Had a hood up." He placed his left hand at the edge of my desk, where he could lift it up. "Ready?" I nodded, and he slowly lifted the desk.

It was a flower.

Mr. Brown and I stood completely still for a couple of seconds. I sniffled and slowly moved my hand away from my chest to reach for the white flower. It was a daisy. My favorite? Mr. Brown's eyebrows raised and gave way to an expression of delight as I picked up the daisy to show him.

"Is there a note?" He asked, peeking over the wooden top of my desk.

"Uhm..." I leaned forward to look back into the desk. There was a pink piece of paper folded about a million times to be as small as possible. This failed miserably, the paper being too thick to even stay closed. "Yeah, I think so." I took it out and observed the parchment.

"A secret admirer!" Mr. Brown gasped dramatically. It suddenly occured to me how nosey and curious my teacher was. My face grew hot as I opened up the pink letter. "What does it say?" I shot him a look. He put his hands up and backed away. "Ok, I get it." He teased and went back to his desk with a small smile on his face. I looked down at the pink note in my hands as my heart pounded in my chest. Was it really a secret admirer? Or another dumb prank?

The handwriting was atrocious.

'Jordan, I saw this flower outside and I thought it was pretty and maybe I heard one time it was your favorite so I picked it for you. Don't get the wrong idea because this isn't a secret admirer and nobody likes you that much, especially not me.'

I was taken aback by the note. What kind of a note was this? I thought back to one of the animes Chris likes that he'd made me watch. There was a really mean girl who was very mean to the boy she liked to hide her feelings. Was this the same? I furrowed my eyebrows in frustration, confusion, and flattery. I would have to show Chris later. I put the daisy inside the letter and waited for the day to be over.

---

Chris and I sit on the floor of my bedroom, chatting about his previous trips to the lodge and what it would be like.

"A lot of drinking. Like, so much. Josh and I usually pass out at least once," Chris babbles excitedly. Even though he seemed very hesitant at first, he'd quickly come around to my invite. "I'm actually really happy you're coming. The twins are stoked, y'know?" I smile at him, and he continues on. "They're the ones who started the idea. Everybody comes up and spends a few days at the lodge and we all just party. This will be the second or third year without parents though, I think."

"I feel like that's a safety hazard," I sigh, laying on my side and propping myself up with the palm of my hand. "What if someone gets hurt or goes missing?" Chris shrugs.

"Then we do what we can and we call the police," he states. I shrug as well. I wasn't satisfied with that answer, but I understood that no parents meant more freedom and fun for us young adults. I scoot a little closer to him, a mischievous smile creeping across my expression.

"So... No adults, at all?" Chris side eyes me suspiciously, not bothering to turn his head.

"No... Why?" I know he knows what I'm about to say.

"No reason, just... Y'know, Ashley." He smacks both of his hands over his face in embarrassment, his face growing redder by the second.

"Oh, my God, Jordan, not you too," he sighs in annoyance. "I really like Ashley, I really really do but can't we talk about anything else for once?" I smile wider and shrug.

"What do you want to talk about?"

"Josh," My smile immediately fades. Chris shifts to match my position, laying his chin on his hand and laying on his side. "Let's talk about Josh."

"Why do you want to talk about Josh?" Chris has a small smile on his face as he shrugs, mocking my previous body language.

"I was surprised when he took you to the bathroom," he admits. He rolls over into his stomach, his jaw on both hands now as he kicked his feet behind him like a gossipping school girl. "Crazy, right?"

"Yeah, I think he was just high, though," I say, chewing my lip. I can feel the tips of my ears redden. "You saw how he acted immediately afterwards, didn't you? The daggers he was glaring when I got invited to the lodge were sharp, man." I raise my eyebrows and move to mirror Chris.

"Daggers... Of love." He wiggles his eyebrows and makes a kissy face. I roll my eyes so hard it hurts.

"Ok, you watch too many soap operas or something," I laugh. My cousin sighs and rolls his own eyes. "Would you stop copying me?"

"Would you stop copying me?" I go straight faced and stare at him, hitting my swinging feet on the ground with a thud. He does the same, and a staring contest ensues. I squint. There's no way I was losing this. Time slows down, but luckily for me, I could already see Chris's eyes begin to water. I'm tempted to reach for his glasses slowly and take them off his face when his phone rings and he instinctively looks away, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Technicality," he groans as he stands up.

"A technicality is still a win," I gloat. I roll over onto my back and stare up at the ceiling. "Who is it?"

"It's your boyfriend," Chris teases.

"My abusive boyfriend," I snort. "What does he want?" he puts his finger up in a gesture to wait as he answers the phone.

"Hey man, what's up?" I mouth to Chris telling him to put the phone on speaker. He glares at me and mouths 'nosey,' tapping himself on the nose. I sigh dramatically and wait. "Yeah, I'm just at Jordan's house... Uh huh. Yeah. No, I'm spending the day with -" Chris sighs in frustration. "I'll ask her." I perk up. "Do you want to get pizza with Josh?" my eyebrow raises in suspicion and look Chris up and down. He rolls his eyes. "He only wanted me to come but I told him I'm not leaving you and so he's extending the invitation."

"Does he promise to be nice?" Chris puts the phone on speaker.

"Josh, do you promise to be nice?" he asks. There's silence before Josh laughs. A smile tugs at my lips, though I'm not sure why.

"Yes, Chris, I promise to be nice to Jordan." Chris looks at me, waiting for my response.

"Fine," I sigh dramatically. Chris smiles and gives me a thumbs up.

"Niiice, see you soon." Josh hangs up. A silence hangs between Chris and I. He sets his phone down and looks at the ground, twiddling his thumbs as if he's nervous, like he's about to say something he shouldn't.

"He doesn't hate you, you know," he says. I look up at him, but he doesn't meet my gaze. "I'm... I'm sorry, for... betraying you so often when we were kids." This takes me by surprise. Chris had changed, being kinder to me as we grew older, but I never expected an apology.

"I forgive you, Chris," I smile and stand up, giving him a hug. He hugs me back tightly and he lets out a breath he had been holding. "Don't apologize for Josh, though. He's not sorry."

"Still, Jordan, I meant it," Chris takes a step back, putting his arms to my shoulders and bending down slightly to look me in the eyes. "He doesn't hate you." I didn't know what to say.

"Chris, I don't know what to say to that."

"You don't have to say anything. Let's just go get pizza. It's within walking distance."

"But it's cold outside."

"You have a coat." I groan dramatically as we start to leave, grabbing my coat.

---------

Chris opens the door for me as we walk into the pizza joint Josh had told us to meet him at. It was a homey, diner-like place with booths lined up against the walls for seating, bar stools at the bar, and a few circular tables for larger parties. In front of the bar was a sign that read 'seat yourself.'

"Looks like we beat him here," Chris mumbles. "Where do you want to sit?"

"A booth, by the window." I answer, walking ahead of him to take a seat at an empty booth near the back. Chris sits across from me and I furrow my eyebrows.

"What?" He asks. I don't want to tell him I'm worried Josh might sit next to me, so I shake my head and tell him nothing. A waitress comes to the table and lays a menu down. "Oh, we'll be a minute, we're waiting on somebody."

"Okay, hon, sure thing," she winks at Chris as she walks away. Chris shrugs off his thick coat to fall around his waist.

"Bro she wants you so bad," I say. Chris sighs, but he's smiling. "Hubba hubba." It had been an inside joke since our teenage years that every waitress or waiter wanted him. Of course, they didn't usually wink.

"Dude, guaranteed wife." He says, running his fingers through his hair dramatically, shaking his head. Suddenly the seat next to mine sinks, someone taking a seat next to me. Chris's eyebrow twitches in surprise and amusement.

"Hey, fellas," Josh grins, rubbing his hands together. "Pizza time? Did you guys order?"

"No, we waited for you, dude," Chris says. "I'm thinking just pepperoni, personally."

"Can we add some bacon on this bad boy?" Chris agrees, and both he and Josh look to me for an answer. I glance at Josh, who is staring at me rather intensely and gulp.

"Yeah, that sounds good." I smile. Josh tilts his head as if to see my face better and I feel my face grows warm with confusion and embarrassment. I ignore him, though I can tell he notices my flustered state by his wicked grin. I look at my cousin across the table, and his expression is that of surprise and curiosity. The waitress comes back, and we order.

Josh and Chris talk about the lodge. Past years, plans for this one. I feel a tinge of nerves and excitement. Everyone included talks so much about it, I don't know if I've ever done anything so hyped up. I'd never been to any huge events before, nor small, fun sleepovers with anyone other than Chris.

"So, Jordan," Josh snaps me out of my thoughts, bumping into me with his shoulder. I look at Josh, keeping my head tilted down shyly as I look up at him. He looks back at me, and I can see something in his expression I can't quite name. "Do you drink, or are you lame in that aspect, too?" He laughs and bumps me again. I frown.

"It's not my thing. I don't like being... Compromised?" I furrow my eyebrows, trying to find the words to explain myself. "I don't... I don't want there to be any opportunity for me to be taken advantage of in any way." There's many meanings to this for me. Someone could easily pull a cruel joke on me, film me vomiting and post it online, take me to the bedroom. Josh's smile fades.

"Is there anyone in particular you don't feel safe around?" He asks. I see Chris's eyebrows raised in surprise as he listens in, his eyes moving between Josh and I quickly as if anticipating what would come next. I'm surprised, too.

"What do you mean?" I ask, shifting in my seat uncomfortably.

"If someone is making you feel unsafe they're not invited." Josh states. His eyes are widened slightly and He's staring at me with an intensity I've never seen before. He's dead serious. I scan his face quickly. "Just say the word, Jordan, and it's done." I gulp.

"I-"

"Here you go, kids. Pepperoni and bacon, fresh out the oven! Be careful not to burn yourselves," the waitress says. She's very peppy and beautiful, a heavyset woman with curly brown hair draped over her shoulders and lipstick that was much too red for most, but perfect for her. We offer our thanks as she walks away. I glance back at Josh, who seems to have completely forgotten the intensity he was just showing me at the mention of my discomfort. Chris looks just as surprised as I am.

The pizza looks and smells amazing. The pepperoni was still sizzling, the grease popping. Chris, Josh and I are drooling and I realize just how hungry I was. It seemed torturous now to have to wait for it to cool down to avoid injury.

"Anyways, Jordan," Josh starts. I look at him again. "You don't have to drink, or whatever, even if it does accentuate your... your lameness." I frown again. "But no matter what, if anyone makes you feel unsafe please let me know... I've got no tolerance for that sort of thing."

"Do you promise not to prank me over the trip?" I ask, moving so that my body is facing him as much as it can in the booth. He does the same, straightening his posture as our knees touch. He doesn't move away from me.

"What?"

"Because that's my biggest concern, Josh, honestly," I admit. He seems taken back, glancing at Chris as if for help. "I don't want to wake up with my mattress in the woods or with a snake in my bed or rats in my coat pockets." I try to sound stern. Josh makes eye contact with me and doesn't look away. I almost shy away, but I hold. His eyes scan my face, for what I'm not sure. But it makes me nervous.

"Guys, you're freaking me out," Chris gulps. "Can we please just eat the pizza?" Josh's lips form a thin, straight line and he sighs, finally looking away from me.

"If it would make you feel safer and more comfortable and have more fun," Josh starts, placing his right hand over his heart and raising his left. "I will not pull a single prank on you." Chris's jaw drops. I open my own mouth to say something, and Josh puts some pizza into my mouth. It was hot, but just cooled down enough to eat. "Now eat." His face is darker, a light red dusting his cheeks. As I take the pizza from Josh, Chris and I lock wide eyes, the both of us shocked.

"Thank you," I say. Josh shrugs, his expression one of frustration and mild embarrassment.

"Yeah, whatever. Don't think too much into it," he sighs, his head turned away from me in an attempt to hide his expression. "Just don't want you to freak out and ruin the mood for everybody else." Instead of my normal frown, I smile to myself. This time, I had the feeling that he really was just trying to hide that he cared about me just a little bit - even if it was solely because I was his best friend's cousin. The number one sign that this was the case was still evident as I glanced under the table at my thighs.

Our knees were still touching.

-----------

Hey y'all, thanks for your patience waiting for the update. I work a LOT and on my one day off I'm busy, too. I try to have at least 3k words per chapter, so it takes a bit longer. Anyways, thank you!

Taglist: @sc4rrc @mattymxmo @cellyx33 @jenepleurepasbaby @kalynnjonas @spinback-kiva @frankcastlesvest

[leviathxn]

Hi! I have a request! If you would like to do it...😊

Uhm, so what if y/n and Miguel are married for years and have kids but the Spider society doesn't know. And the shock on the Spider crew faces when they find out about Miguel's sweet side.

YESS I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THESE

(N/N) is nickname or whatever spider name you want to go by

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“Who are you?”

—————————————————————————

By no means were you a strong spider. In your universe, you were the first test subject. You got minor powers of a spider. They weren’t very prevalent so the lab tried another experiment, and that person became the true Spider-Man of the universe. You guys were close friends you ended up becoming their sidekick. People assumed there was a relationship, but actually your heart belong to someone else. That somebody was Miguel O’ Hara.

You met Miguel when your partner had ran into the portal and you followed shortly after. Love at first sight might be a reach. You were definitely in love, Miguel was too… he just had to open up to it. He did. It took him a long time but he did.

However, just like him, nobody had any idea. They figured it was on sided, nothing special. So it stayed a secret between you and Miguel. In the span of 5 years, you and Miguel had gotten married, moved in together, had a kid and had another on the way. You never did much at Headquarters so you stayed home taking care of the kid while also staying healthy for your 2nd baby. You were sure nobody knew you existed in the new society, anybody that you had originally met never said much. Since nobody knew your relationship to Miguel, you were seen as a once in a while friend to chat with.

However one day you decided to take your 2 year old and plumped up self to see Miguel and meet new spiders. Not only that but Miguel left your home-made empanadas in the fridge. Your child knew he was spider-man, well as much as a two year old could comprehend. As you walked through the portal it felt like you were looking at an entire new place. You hadn’t been in the Headquarters since the renovation, but luckily you remember seeing the layout blueprints on Miguel’s desk. You got stares, and every now and then a spider would come up to you and “catch-up”. They would ask why you were there, you would say “I’m here to see my husband”, and surprisingly they wouldn’t think much of it. You figured most would assume it was your former partner (Miguel was deathly jealous of him). They said hello to your 2 year old and then would leave you on your mission.

Finally making your way to his office, you picked up your child and gently opened the door. He was standing by his computer screens while a small group of spiders seemed to be… harassing him.

“I think our mission went fine! It wasn’t even a big mistake, nobody died. You can just say your hate me and move on, don’t ban me from the cafeteria”. A teen with bleeding armpits(?) shouted at him. Another blonde spider laughed and smacked his arm

“Miguel wouldn’t get rid of you, he’s running out of reliable people”. You could hear Miguel’s grumbling from a mile away. A British man threw up a random gadget before catching it again (definitely not a toy).

“Well maybe if he wasn’t so mean”. Miguel snatched the gadget out of his hand before an old friend of yours caught eye. Peter B. Parker, with MayDay, ran over to you.

“Oh my God it’s (n/n)! With a kid- two kids? Oh my god this is amazing, long time no see!” He gave you a big hug, playing little hand games with your child. You said hello to Mayday and put down your kid. They two of them already started running off (you were worried about Maydays powers but the place is full of spiders, what could go wrong?). In typical Peter fashion, he runs after the kids and plays with them. The rest of the teens stared, none of them knew who you were. Miguel stared at you across the room, his face softening.

As you walked over to him, you packed his cheek and handed him the empanadas. He gently grabbed your waist and smiled, before taking the empanadas and putting them on the table. You hear Peter gasp as he watches the scene from across the office.

“You should be resting cariño”. You smiled and but a hand over your belly.

“It’s fine bubs, it’s a spider baby, they’ll come out just fine”. He kisses your forehead and holds your hand over your belly.

It was eerily quiet in the room, you had almost forgot that the spiders were there. As you turned your head to look at them, it was pure shock from all, even Mayday was looking at you guys (although she didn’t really understand why).

“It’s nice to meet you guys! You must be the crew I hear all about.” Peter almost fell off the ceiling, luckily catching himself and the kids (when did your kid get up there).

The teens immediately ran up to you as if you were an anomaly, “Who are you and how did you do that!”

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OKAY THIS WAS SUPER FUN TO BUILD UP TOO

I love doing like backgrounds and then boom the moment, especially for shorts like this. Let me know if you guys liked it, and thank you for the request!

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[outsideratheart]

Time Has No Concept (Ingrid Engen x reader)

It may not have officially been winter but that didn’t stop the -5 degrees feel any warmer. You always said you liked the cold weather or at least you weren’t bothered by it. Today was a true test of that. 

Walking out for the pitch inspection you only have one thing on your mind or more specifically one person. 

“It hasn’t even been a week” Keira tries to tease you but fails because you don’t bite. 

“I don’t care. I spend every day with her in Barcelona so when we’re apart a day is like a week.” 

It was true. It didn’t take much for you to miss Ingrid. You moved to Barcelona after the euros and quickly became friends with Ingrid. It stayed like that way until you won the Champions league. It was a night to be remember for more reason than one. 

Lucy and Keira agreed to go with you to Ingrid as she was with Caro and Ada. 

“Tell me why you, a Norwegian native, are wearing more layers than me?” 

“Because I’m not a human heater” Ingrid opens your arms and makes herself comfy. 

“Hello my love” you look down at her, fully disregarding the company around you. 

“Are you nervous?” Ingrid asks as she sees a crack in your confident persona. 

On game days you were serious, locked in and there was little anybody could do to steer you from this mindset. Ingrid however had the unexplainable ability to see through it and as she stands on the pitch in your arms she sees her girlfriend, not the England captain.

“About the game, of course not” you wink playfully “about what comes after, a little bit. I just want to make a good impression”

“Pull back your shots and maybe you will”

Ingrid knew you would never do as she asked so isn’t surprised when she gets a scoff as her reply. The two of you stay together in each others arms for a few more minutes as you involve yourselves in the conversation between Lucy and Ada. 

It was very well known that you hated wearing base layers but it was advised to put one on gor the game given that it might snow was forecast. That didn’t stop you from removing the thermal layer within the first ten minutes when you saw their goalkeeper go down. At half time most of them put a second base layer on and an extra pair of gloves whereas you opted for a cup of tea instead.

The post match team huddle was one of the quickest in team history and the lap around the pitch that followed matched it. Only one or two England players remained on the pitch to thank the fans, you were one of them. Once the last photo was taken your attention shifted to a different kind of fan.

There she stood talking animatedly with two people who you recognised from the time Ingrid FaceTimed home whilst staying at your apartment.

“Y/N!” The younger boy, Ingrid’s nephew you think, shouts.

“Look at you” Ingrid cannot believe you are standing next to her in the now -8 degrees, maybe even colder, in only shorts and a shirt. No base layers, no gloves, no coat “You’re going to get a cold”

“You forget that I don’t get sick, it’s my superpower. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me warm” you are millimetres away from kissing her when you are interrupted.

“Y/N, please can I have your shirt?” 

“No”

“Yes”

Much to Ingrid’s dismay you give her nephew your shirt. He takes his coat off and quickly puts your shirt on over Ingrid’s. The smile on his face rivals the Cheshire cat’s and you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear that the look on his face makes it worth it. 

Ingrid holds her jacket open and pulls you close as you chat away to her brother about the game, happy with the fact that the two of you get along well and that you will have a familiar face when you meet everybody else a little bit later. It is only when she feels you shivering against her does she politely end the conversation so that you can go inside the stadium.

“Shower, please. No ice baths. We can go on a recovery walk tomorrow” your girlfriend knew your post match routine well at this point but prayed that tonight you would stray without any arguments. 

“Yes ma’am” you salute her before doing as your told. 

Almost two hours later you were pulling up to Ingrid’s parents house. Ingrid seemed confident that her family would like you. The way she grabbed your hand and led you into her childhood home did ease the nerves building inside you. 

Luckily for you, Ingrid’s nephew is the first to see you and pulls you over to show you his Legos. You can’t believe that you are using a child as a shield against her family. 

The protection doesn’t last long because your girlfriend soon calls you over to her parents. You had practiced this speech plenty of times in the mirror. 

Mr and Mrs Engen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. 

Yet when you get within a meters distance of them you freeze. These are two of the most important people in your girlfriend’s life and making a good impression on them is a must. 

They stare at you for what feels like an eternity and you can also feel Ingrid’s eyes on you too. Another thing you notice in the corner of your eye is the smirk that is tugging at her lips. 

“You were right. In person she isn’t anything like she is on the pitch” her father says. 

Still you are frozen. Do you slip the player switch on and play the confidence card? No, that might be too much and they’d know it’s an act. 

“Hyggelig å møte deg” you hold your hand out for both her father and her mother. 

Their eyes widen and you don’t know if it’s in shock or horror. Your girlfriend’s silence didn’t help either. 

“I said nice to meet you, right?” 

Ingrid leans in and kisses your check. 

“Elskling, it was perfect” Ingrid compliments you. 

“She is right. The pronunciation was very good” 

“Ingrid didn’t say you knew Norwegian” her father adds. 

“Our team mate Caroline has been teaching me after training” 

Ingrid knew you had been having lessons with Caro, you had told her that much. She just assumed it was Spanish because of how quickly you picked up the native language of your new club. Never in a million years did she think you’d be learning her language. 

The four of you talk for a little while. You get to know Ingrid’s parents and they ask all sorts of questions. They are mainly football and life in Barcelona related. You don’t get the hurt my daughter and I’ll kill you speech but you suspect they are waiting until you’re alone for that. 

After the introductions you retake your place on the floor with Ingrid’s nephew. His company you found a lot less intimidating. Her parent’s are sat on the sofa behind you watching the tv with some of Ingrid’s other relatives but you aren’t bothered by their presence. 

“Y/N” Ingrid shouts from the kitchen where she is helping her brother with the food. 

“Yes, my love” you reply. 

Ingrid’s parents share a look that you don’t see. Was the nickname you had given their daughter part of your English charm or were you really in love with her. 

“So you love our daughter?” Ingrid’s father asks rather boldly. 

“Pappa!” Ingrid comes to your rescue just in time. 

The three important words had not been said but the feeling was there. 

“I do” when you stand to your feet you feel betrayed by your body and mouth. 

“You do?” Ingrid face is the picture of shocked. 

“I do” you whisper softly “I think I’ve know for a while. Everything was made clear in the summer. I was heartbroken but you took me in your arms and held me until I was whole again” 

There it was. The admission that you, for some unknown reason, had been scared to make. 

Ingrid didn’t care that her family was surrounding her. She kissed you with the same passion as the kisses you share at home. It may not be an intense kiss but it is enough to convey her feelings. 

“I love you, I really do” 

What comes over you, you have no idea but you lean back in for another kiss, a peck. The public display of affection does earn a fake gagging sound by her brother before he announces dinner is ready and served. You do have to hold back a laugh when he goes the extra lengths to let everyone know he did it without his sister’s help. 

Later that night you get another hot shower to warm you up. Maybe your girlfriend was right about you getting sick. 

The two of you lay in Ingrid’s teenage room. 

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Your girlfriend asks you. 

“What did I say earlier?” 

Hearing this Ingrid sits up and slaps you on the chest. The impact send you into a coughing fit. 

“Don’t play with me. Also, you’re getting sick. Take these” 

You are handed two tablets which you take happily despite your stubbornness. 

“I meant it but I thought it was too soon and I didn’t want to scare you away. How was I suppose to tell you I love you after only being dating for a month, in fact we weren’t even dating, not officially” 

“You knew after a month?” 

“You think it’s too much. You see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you”

Your brain went into overdrive as you began overthinking your decision. 

“It’s not too much Y/N. I met you a year ago yet I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer. I would shock myself at how easy I would open up to you. When it comes to you it’s like time has no concept”

Nobody has ever spoken about you in that way. You were never anyone’s person until you met Ingrid.

“Jeg elsker deg” Ingrid pecks you on the lips “Jeg elsker deg” 

When you fall asleep that night you do so with a huge smile on your face and a sense of calmness that you very rarely feel. 

The next morning Ingrid wakes up to the sound of you coughing, or more accurately barking, in the bathroom. 

“I’m sick” you admit when you see Ingrid standing behind you in the mirror. 

“Come on I’ll make you some broth that will have you feeling good as new in no time” 

“You don’t have to. I’ve taken some more medicine, I’m ok” 

“I know I don’t have to. I want to and it’s what I do for the people I love”