#but he misses reg more than anything

[calamitoustide]

best friends jegulus going through a huge falling out after james gets together with his first boyfriend/girlfriend. james has no idea why his best friend suddenly doesn’t want to talk to him, and regulus has no idea why his best friend doesn’t feel the same way he feels

[ellecdc]

hi elle! would u mind doing the poly!domestic prompt “we need a bigger shower.”₁ “or, we could just stop showering togeth- “₂ “hey, hey, let’s not get too extreme!” with poly!jegulus please? 🎀

sure! thanks for the prompt <3

poly!jegulus x fem!reader who need a bigger shower, Jamie [741 words]

CW: non-sexual nudity, Regulus joking that reader is definitely showing signs of a concussion (she isn't)

You could tell Regulus’ temper was rising; his teeth were chattering when he was too far away from the warmth of the spray, but he clearly preferred that position if it meant you (and to a lesser extent, James) were more or less directly under the shower head. He winced every time you managed to whack your head against the shower wall, and murmured something pitiful in French when James’ hip ended up accosted by the built-in soap dish.

But you think it must’ve been the seventh time that he hit his elbow against the glass shower door - no doubt sending shock waves of tingles right to his finger tips - that did him in.

“This is awful.” He declared.

“What? No! This is lovely!” James argued, narrowly missing your jaw with his elbow when he moved to lather soap along his ribs. 

“This is going to see amour in hospital for a concussion.” Regulus countered darkly, though he protectively cupped the back of your head where it threatened to meet the tiles (again). 

“Oh angel, are you alright?” James cooed then, apparently having missed every painful sounding thwack and worried murmur that followed it. 

“M’fine, Jamie.” You offered with a tight smile as Regulus rolled his eyes. “I think we need a bigger shower.”

Regulus scoffed derisively. “Or we could just stop showering together.”

“Well, okay, hang on.” James started, lowering his loofa and holding out his hands placatingly as if this were a hostage situation. “Let’s not get too extreme here.” 

“James, this side of the shower is a completely different temperature.” Regulus explained impatiently. “And her head has absolutely more bruises than hair at this point.” 

“Well, I don’t think it’s that bad-”

“Absolutely concussed, without a doubt.” Regulus continued as if you hadn’t said anything at all. “I think one of her eyes is even going crossed.”

“You knock it off!” You laughed as you swatted at Regulus, your smile growing wider when the relatively aloof boy smiled uninhibitedly in return as he fended off your assault. 

“Has the shower really been that bad?” James asked then, causing you and Regulus to turn your attention back to your now rather sullen looking boyfriend having long since rinsed the suds from his body. 

“It’s not been that bad.” You relented as you pulled him into you - he didn’t have far to go, mind you, seeing as the three of you were already touching to some varying degree.

“It’s not been that good.” Regulus countered, though he acquiesced when you pinched him in the ribs. “I do like getting to appreciate the two of you naked, though.”

James let out a surprised laugh and you rolled your eyes good naturedly. 

“See? It’s not all bad.” James offered confidently. “Can I wash your hair, angel?” He asked then, lifting his hands to rub the skin at your neck only to earn himself a painful thwack of his elbow.

“Actually, Jamie?” Regulus started in his most ‘I have him wrapped around my finger’ voice that you seemed to be able to pick up on but poor sweet Jamie never could. 

“Yes, my love?” He responded quickly.

“Are you finished washing?” 

“I am!”

Regulus smiled gently at his boyfriend - the final blow. “Mind fucking off, then?”

“Wha-”

“There’s not enough room, Jamie.” You whined then. “Reg and I will be fast, okay? You won’t miss out on anything.”

“But…” James started, looking between the two of you a little heartbrokenly. “But what if you guys kiss?”

“What if we promise not to kiss?” Regulus countered.

“But…what if I want you guys to kiss.” 

“What if we kissed right now?” You offered, pausing for James to consider the offer.

“Can I have a kiss too?” James asked, and Regulus actually laughed.

“Yes, Jamie, you can have a kiss too.” Regulus confirmed.

Appeased, James accepted a kiss from each of you and appreciated the kiss you and Regulus shared before he stepped out of the shower, calling out a promise to place your towels in the dryer before exiting the steamed up bathroom.

“God he’s perfect.” You murmured as you leaned your forehead against Regulus’ chest.

“He’s so lucky that he is.” Regulus agreed, though whatever grumblings he pretended to have about James, you could just feel the fondness oozing right out of him for your loveable boyfriend. 

You were sure a similar fondness was oozing right out of you for your two loveable boyfriends.

[hauntedjellyfishwitch-blog]

Too Far.

Summary: He's like a wounded animal when he's angry, lashing out when he feels cornered. He's gone too far this time, snapped and said something he definitely didn't mean, so now he has to fix it.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Reader (No use of Y/N)

TW: Fighting. Daryl is a dick, but not really, but also he is. Apologetic!Daryl. Alexandria Era. Sex.

A/N: Inspired by an excellent post by @love-norman which I'll link in the comments. I wasn't sure if you were okay with smut, so there's a fairly brief mention of sex but nothing overly explicit.

-

He’s a surprisingly effective communicator, once she can convince him to talk more and with enough time to work out exactly what ticks and grunts mean what. Daryl Dixon’s entire bag is self-sacrifice, so if he can assume that she needs him to tell her what’s going on in the always too busy head of his, he can do that for her without much care for how it impacts him. It’s not his most healthy coping mechanism but it certainly isn’t his worst and the reward? Oh, the reward is sweet. The reward is comfort and kindness and being held; being loved. What’s a moment of discomfort for a lifetime of her?

He's had to practice letting his walls down, slowly but surely since he met her, all the while failing to realise she was just digging her way underneath them. She didn’t ever pry, not really, not in any way that felt invasive, but she’d patiently wait him out; ask the question quietly, softly, and let him linger in the comfortable silence until he chose to answer back. Sometimes she’d work out the information without his need to speak at all; it happened the moment he realised he was fucked, that he was absolutely, irrefutably hers. She’d worked out exactly who he was as a person and he’d barely sad a word.

He’s attentive, and whilst that shocks him it comes as no surprise to anyone around him. He has spent his life fearing that he is exactly who he feared, but those who are lucky enough to consider themselves, correctly or not, close to Daryl never fear for much but his wellbeing. That he is a careful, thoughtful and tender partner surprises nobody but him. That’s not to say they don’t argue, the end of the world comes with its own set of tensions even without the usual relationship concerns, but he’s learnt not to bite first.

-

He shouldn’t have drunk anything, in hindsight, they’re both in bad shape, overwrought and under-fed and they shouldn’t have been at a fucking party, of all places. He definitely shouldn’t have had the four glasses of scotch Reg offered him on a mostly empty stomach. He can’t get used to the Alexandria walls, the houses he never could have afforded to breathe near let alone buy, the soft comforts he’d never had even before the end of the world. He’s never been to a party that hasn’t had a piss-stained couch or an overly full ashtray.

“You know that’s bullshit, Daryl, you’re being ridiculous!” She yells, firmly back in their own living room after he’d practically stormed out of Deanna’s. One minute they’re in full swing, standing talking about vacations from the old days with some new faces, the next his hand is dropping from around her waist and thudding from the front door like she’d said, ‘fuck off’ rather than the word ‘Canada’. He’d slammed the door behind them and snarled about how he would have embarrassed her and her fancy fucking vacations in ‘the real world’.

“Lil’ miss travel abroad and see th’ world cause she’s better than Daryl fuckin’ Dixon”

“What? That’s not-“

“I’m jus’ an idiot redneck with nothin’ an’ you’re this smart chick who saw the world, I get it, I ain’t dumb, th’ fuck would ya have wanted wit’ me?”

Her heart would shatter for him if she wasn’t seething quite so much, the sheer desperation in his words at odds with the tension in his body, clenched hands dragging through his finally clean hair. His eyes are stinging and he absolutely refuses to cry, has never gotten over thinking it makes him weak even when he feels weak.

“Daryl, what the fuck? Why are you being such an asshole?“

“Shut up, always yappin’ about stupid shit, fuckin’ hate ya sometimes!”

He turns quickly, wants to throw something, wants to scream, broad shoulders and harsh angles and all the wind leaves his body when he sees her flinch away from him. She’s cowers backwards, he feels like he’s going to be sick, body collapsing in on itself as he feels the anger leave his bones, replaced with ice laced panic. For a second, a horrifying second that feels ten times as long, he’s his old man. Shitfaced and angry with a glass in hand and if he had a mirror, he knows exactly whose face he’d see staring back at him.

“I would never hurt ya” he whispers, voice low and so broken, full of conviction as his breath hitches in the middle and crumbles at the end and she’d hug him if she wasn’t so shell shocked. Neither of them move for a beat, standing stock still as he trails his eyes over her, clocks the way her gaze refuses to lift to meet his. He can’t breathe. The room is too small for everything he’s feeling, like the walls are inching close and closer and the air is getting less. He tries to move like lightning but his whole body feels sluggish and slow as he inches past her and out the front door, flinching as it closes behind him and he wanders out into the street. He stares back at the house for a moment before deciding he needs a walk to clear his head.

When he comes back she’s sitting on the couch waiting for him, thumbs twiddling, head still down and worry eating her alive. He eases the door shut behind him, loud enough to tell her he’s home but soft enough to show he’s not mad. He wishes a door could convey remorse but it’s taken him long enough to be able to do it with words he doubts a block of wood would be able to in the timeframe he needs. He shucks off his boots, realising he shouldn’t have been wearing them in the house in the first place.

The fresh air has cooled his body enough that he feels less of the alcohol circulating around his system. He tries not to squeeze the flowers he’d plucked from the bush outside Aaron’s place as he stands with his back against the wood.

“’M sorry” he whispers before clearing his throat and repeating it at a higher volume. She turns her face towards him, looking at him over her shoulder. The anger is gone from her face, replaced with a dwelling worry that spikes at him, makes him replay his words over and over.

“What did I do?”

“Nothin’” he insists quickly, pauses before he realises he should say more, that she sometimes needs him to say more, they’ve talked about this “Ya didn’t, I promise”

“I’m sorry”

That does it, rips him from his safe haven by the door because he can’t stand the thought that she deserved anything he said to her, that she’d said anything wrong when he knows she hadn’t. Talking at a party, about stupid old-world stuff whilst her spare, wine glass free hand kept his back warm. She hadn’t said a damn thing wrong, and he’d scared her.

He strides over to the couch, coming round to kneel in front of her. He places the somewhat squashed flowers on the couch cushion next to her. He hovers a hand above her knee, placing it gently on the fabric of her dress when she doesn’t flinch away at the sight. He doesn’t want her to flinch ever again.

“Dun’ apologise to me when ya ain’t done nothin’ wrong”

“I’m so-“

“Dun’ ever apologise to me when i’s my fault. ‘S my shit an’ I shouldn’t take it out on ya”

She knows he loves her, has proven it time and time again, has put his body in front of hers in the face of almost certain death, would protect her with his last breath, would love her with it. But she knows she’ll never be able to unhear it, that some things you can’t take back, that she’ll always wonder, just a little bit if its true. Logic and love are very rarely intertwined.

“Okay”

He can still hear his fathers words ringing in his head, he knows, more than most, the power that words hold over people. He tries not to say anything he doesn’t mean, and he’ll admit he’s acerbic, pointed sure but never cruel, never unnecessarily unkind. He doesn’t know why tonight was different, but he takes her hands in his, locking his eyes on her so she understands.

“I dun’ get t’ speak t’ ya like that”

“No, you don’t” she agrees, voice firmer, back to her usual tone, the one he’s always loved going hand in hand with the certainty she can hold her own. She pauses, bringing his hands up to press a kiss to his knuckles, soothing because she’s terrified that after all this time, he’s still going to break them by thinking he’s not allowed to claim his hurt “You alright?”

He doesn’t answer, instead sitting back on his feet, raising a small hopeful smile at her.

“Tell me about th’ vacation”

“I don’t-“

“Please. Ya said ya still think ‘bout Canada all th’ time”

He really does want to know, he hadn’t been outside of Georgia before everything went down, and she’s mentioned travel but Canada hadn’t come up; he’s not sure if it was that, that set him off or that he felt inadequate in a room full of people with experiences he never got to have.

“I think it was my favourite trip. Packed a bag and went alone on a whim, found a lake in the forest with a little cabin. Just mountains and trees and lakes. It’s the most peaceful I’ve ever felt. I never wanted to mention it, I know you missed out on so much, but then everyone was talking and I-“

“Nah, go on, ‘S’alright”

“When Reg asked…I was going to say that’s what I picture, when I think of life outside of all of this, me and you in Canada”

“Ya think of that with me?” his voice is low, incredulous awe pulled tight at the edges, he was so busy feeling less than everyone else that he’d missed out on the fact she was thinking of him. She nods, smiling at him, working it out without him needing to say it, figuring out what drove him to snap without asking, under his walls and right in the centre of the internal world he’s built.

“We’d have a house, out near a lake with a wooden porch, and a dog, big scruffy one who likes to catch fish. We’d have coffee together overlooking the water in the morning. You’d work at the local garage, ‘cause you’re good with your hands and tools, wouldn’t have to deal with people all day, fix up all the bikes you’d secretly want...”

He’s staring her at in silence, watching her wistful face glow in the lamplight, he can barely breathe let alone find words knowing that she’s not just dreamt about a life with him, she’s thought it out in detail. He wants it, wants that life with her so badly it aches, thinks it’s the first time he’s wanted anything from life except to get through it.

“I’d work at the bar, play guitar at crappy open mic nights and you’d come for a beer after my shift to walk me home”

He hums, all the response he can manage, guilt chewing at him from the inside, clawing at his mind knowing that he’s taken his own problems out on her, told her he hates her all the while she’s dreaming of something so utterly fucking perfect.

“We’d make dinner together and dance in the living room, go camping at the weekends and make love all night long”

“In another life?” he chuckles, warm and full, knowing he’ll dream about this for the rest of his life.

“In every life…If you’d find me”

“I’d find ya”

-

He runs her a bubble bath, still amazed and confused that he can, that they’ve spent months on the road starving and struggling and here there’s a pantry that has bubble bath. The flowers from Aarons front garden are perched in a glass of water by the bed, the lamps turned off and the doors are locked up as tight as they can be. He’s insistent that he shows his apology, but he’s never had a way to do it outside these walls, nothing beyond words and affection and his experience with what women might like is limited at best.

He stands in the doorway, watching as she wraps herself in a dressing gown. He wonders idly if the amount of love he feels for her could kill him; he feels it so deeply in his bones that he physically isn’t sure it should be able to fit inside of one person. He feels it explode warmth around his body when she shuffles forward to rest her head on his chest.

“You know you don’t have to do all of this? I’m not mad”

Later, when he’s apologised again, reassured her and comforted her and she’s convinced him he’s worth loving in return, he takes them both to bed. Touches her with soft, repentant hands that have always been gentle, hands that are gentle exactly because he knows how dangerous they can be. Atonement seeping from every inch of him as he inches home inside of her, cherishes the contended sigh she lets out at the feel of him. He could never hate her, not even if he tried.

He stills when he bottoms out, rests his forehead against hers as her hips press against his firmly, dragging him as deep as he can go.

“Wha’ ya see in me, anyway?” he whispers against her lips, full of self-doubt.

She looks into him with an intensity that almost hurts, brings her hands to the sides of his face, makes sure he believes her as sincerely as she believes his apology.

“Everything”

[my-castles-crumbling]

Embarassing

Thanks @zoerest97 for the awesome idea!

"James Potter?" the nurse called, looking like she wanted to be anywhere but the waiting room of an oral surgeon's office at 3pm on a Tuesday.

"Yes! Me!" James nearly-yelled, standing in a rush.

He wasn't nervous. He was just...nervous. Regulus was his everything, and imagining his boyfriend being cut open, even if only to extract his teeth, was making him want to tear his own hair out.

"You're ridiculous" Regulus scolded him this morning as he refused to let go of the shorter man's hand, though he smiled while saying so. It was no secret Regulus liked the attention. "I'll be fine, Potter."

But now, as he followed the nurse into the small room to collect his boyfriend, he was just glad everything had gone alright.

"Reg," he breathed, taking in Regulus's form, laid out on a reclined chair, walking forward.

It wasn't until he was only a step away that Regulus turned, breaking into a face-spitting grin.

"James!" he exclaimed, voice a bit muffled by the gauze in his mouth. "Jamie, I missed you so much."

At first, James thought it was sarcasm, until Regulus stood and stumbled forward, wrapping his arms around James's waist and attaching himself there.

"Never leave again," he whispered into the fabric of James's shirt, leaving a trail of drool there.

James blinked. "Erm...is he okay?" he asked the nurse. "He's not usually so..."

"He's just still coming off of the laughing gas," the nurse said in a bored voice. "He'll be fine in a few hours. Take him home and let him sleep it off."

James nodded, half-dragging Regulus out of the office.

-

"Oi, Moony! I have a recording to show you!" Sirius shouted a week later, grinning devilishly.

"No," Regulus said, face stony. "Not again, Sirius, I swear to God, I'll murder you."

But it was too late. Sirius had his phone out, pressing it in front of Remus's face. Regulus, meanwhile, covered his face with his hands.

"Ey, Reg!" On-screen Sirius called, the camera showing a drowsy-looking Regulus, who held an ice pack to his cheek. "How do you feel about my boy, James?"

On-screen Regulus's eyes got huge. "James? Oh, he's perfect. I love him. I love him so much, Sirius, so much more than he knows. But don't tell him, it's embarrassing how much I love him, really. Gods, I'd do anything for him and-"

"Alright," James admonished, taking the phone and locking it. But the pleased expression on his face was unavoidable.

[hemlock-dreams]

hold on, I saw the tags of the tattoo post. covid happened in Peter's universe?????

So my Hunt!Peter's fangs are NOT retractable, though @thistleraven's Peter's fangs absolutely are!

Peter has spent over a decade basically keeping his mouth closed. He's (in)famous for his closed-lipped smiles and pursed grins. When he does crack a laugh, it's usually either laughing through his nose or on the extremely rare occasion, behind his hand. When he eats, it's in tiny bites, etc. etc.

When Peter gets excited (adrenaline/arousal/etc.), and his fangs start producing venom, he usually starts talking through his teeth and swallowing a lot.

Most people (including Wade) don't consider the closed-mouth stuff to be anything weird. Some people have tics or quirks that don't mean anything. And Peter knows better than to call attention to it. (He misses COVID -a totally normal thing to say- but wearing a face-mask on the reg is just asking for people to try and peek under it.)

Spidey on the other hand, is MUCH more expressive. Something about the weight of the mask on his head is psychologically freeing. However, sometimes habits bleed through and Spidey ends up doing something that gives Wade extreme deja vu.

[raven-dor]

sweet nothing

In which james potter makes sure his friend isn't late for class

PAIRINGS: james potter x ravenclaw!reader

WARNINGS: given last name, fluff, flirting, crushing, OBLIVIOUS READER

WORD COUNT: 1.6k

AN: i just love marauders fics where they're happy and nothing is wrong and they are just living their lives

The halls of Hogwarts were buzzing, Pandora, Regulus, and Y/N contributing heavily to that sound. The blonde girl had said she’d discovered nargles, which caused Regulus and her to get into a heated discussion about the topic. Y/N watched helplessly, laughing at how animated Regulus was with his hands when he talked. A hand swung over her shoulder, rectangle glasses coming into view. 

She shrugged him off, glaring playfully. “What do you need, Potter?” 

James scoffed. “Can’t a man say hello to his favorite Ravenclaw without being reprimanded?” 

She raised an eyebrow. “Not when I’m in the middle of a conversation.” 

“Were you? Because it looked like you weren’t doing much talking.” 

Regulus cleared his throat. “Actually, Pandora and I were just leaving. We need to inspect the… the nargles.” He smirked. “Have fun.”  

“Reg!” She turned to Pandora, pleading. “Please, don’t leave me here! You know how annoying he gets when left unsupervised.” 

She giggled airly, walking away. “Have fun, Y/N/N.” 

She turned to James, smiling lightly. “How are you, James?” 

“Just fine, love.” She tried to ignore how her heart clenched at the nickname. He nudged her arm. “And you?”

“Fine.” 

He raised an eyebrow. “Fine? Just fine?”

She nodded, staring at the ground. “Y/N, come on.” He slipped his pinky around hers as they walked. “You can tell me anything, you know that.” 

She could never keep a secret from him for long. If she wanted to become an Auror, she really had to work on her resolve. “It was-” She shivered. “Horrible. My parents cornered me, practically threatened me into getting the dark mark.”

He stopped, his grip on her pinkie stopping her as well. He grabbed her hand, tracing over the freckles on the back. “And did you?” 

“Rowena, no.” She scoffed. “Do you really think I’d do that?” 

He shook his head. “Just asking, lovie.”

She sighed, pulling him along through the corridor. James put his arm over her shoulders once more, and this time, she didn’t shrug him off. His voice had a joking tone to it, but she knew he was being serious. “If you ever need a place to stay, my parents would be more than happy to have you.” 

“James, I’ll be fine, really.” 

“Only if you’re sure, love.” 

She blushed, mumbling. “Don’t call me that.” 

He gasped, putting his hand over his heart. “Why not?” 

“You know why. You like Lily. So in the future, direct the endeering nicknames towards her. If you keep flirting with everything you see, Potter, she’ll never give you a chance.” 

His cheeks were pink, and he scoffed. “For your information, I actually like someone else. In fact-” 

“I enjoy a good deer pun as much as the next person, but are you two going to sit and eat lunch? You’re blocking the sun.”

She laughed, reaching across the table to ruffle his hair. The Gryffindor gasped, immediately shoving her away to fix his hair. “Don’t harm the merchandise, love.” 

James mumbled, glaring at his friend. “Oh, so he can call you love, but I can’t.” 

Y/N chose to ignore him. “Sorry Siri. I couldn’t resist.” She sat down, placing a heaping pile of mashed potatoes on her place. “And I would never miss lunch. It’s the most important meal of the day.” 

Remus smirked, tilting his head. “I think you’re thinking of breakfast, Y/N/N.”

She glared at her friend. “I am shocked you weren’t placed in Ravenclaw, Remus.”

He laughed. “I’m shocked you were.” 

“Remus John Lupin!” Her jaw dropped. “What a rude thing to say.” 

“You’ll be fine.” 

Peter giggled, shaking his head. “You’ve always been the funniest person I know, Y/N.” 

She bowed, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “Well thank you, Pete.” She looked at the other three, who could not care less. “Take notes. That is how friends treat friends.” 

James scoffed. “Speak for yourself. I treat you like a princess.” 

Y/N smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder. “When you're not tormenting my peace, yes, you are.” 

Sirius looked over at Peter, highly offended. “I’m not forgetting you said that Pete. You know I’m funnier than her.” 

Peter nodded, smirking. "Sure you are, Sirius."

"I'll have you know-"

"Boys, boys." Y/N put her hands up. "No fighting at the dinner table."

"It's actually lu-"

"Remus, again with the know-it-all card."

He raised his eyebrows. "Now, who's fighting at the dinner table?"

Free period was Sirius and James’s favorite part of the day. 

It was not Remus, Y/N, and Peter’s favorite part of the day. 

Because every day like clockwork, the pair begged them to watch their impromptu Quidditch practice. Peter luckily got out of this one, mumbling something about tutoring and scurrying away before he could elaborate. Remus and Y/N walked down to the pitch, holding their coats close to their bodies as they talked about their latest read.

“I don’t know Y/N/N, Jane Eyre seems to forget that she is the heroine in this story. Staying with that psycho who kept his wife in his attic? Not her wisest choice.” 

“I think you’re missing the main point, Remus. She’s finally doing something that no woman in her time had the fortune to do. Decide her own destiny. I agree, I think that particular choice was not the smartest, but she becomes the heroine of her own story anyway because she chose to stay. It’s a rare trope in that era of literature.”

James and Sirius stared at them from the sky, both of their stomachs queasy for the same reason. James turned to his best friend, whispering. “Do you think they’re… together?” 

Sirius spluttered, scoffing. “I mean, he can’t- he- she- they definitely-” 

James rolled his eyes. “Relax, Pads. Moony isn’t going anywhere. You still have a chance.” 

His friends cheeks grew pink, but he said nothing. James smiled, nudging him lightly. “You know I’m actually very proud of you, Padfoot. I know how difficult it is for you to accept that you like someone.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Prongs. I’m just shocked at the idea of them.” He nodded, but his voice didn’t sound as sure. “That’s all.” 

The practice ended quickly, and Remus left Y/N in the stands. He knew she liked to soak up the crisp, fresh air before sitting class for two hours.

“I am so surprised to see you here.” 

She opened her eyes, holding a hand above her to block the sun. 

“James. Great job out there. You continue to impress me.” 

He smiled, bowing. “Thank you. What are you doing after this?” 

“Transfiguration, James. With you.” She raised her eyebrows. “The same as every other Thursday.” 

“Can you blame me for trying to block it out of my memory?” He laughed. “Besides, I don’t need to take Transfiguration, I’ve already mastered that art.” 

She hummed, laying back down on the stands. He smiled, she looked rather peaceful like that. “Then you should be fine, sitting there for two hours. It isn’t that difficult, anyway.”

James scoffed. “Of course you would say that. Some people have to try, you know.” 

“Well not me and you. Don’t stress about it.” She sat up, huffing. “Suppose it’s time to walk over. I’ll see you in a bit James.” 

Y/N hadn’t even gotten two steps before a hand grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. “What if I told you I have an idea?” 

She squinted, whenever James had an idea it either ended in a prank or detention. No one could blame her for being hesitant. “And what is this so called plan?” 

He grinned. “Fancy flying?” 

“You cannot be serious right now James.” 

He smirked. “You’re right. I’m not Sir-” 

“Shut it.” She raised her finger to his lips. “McGonagall would have our heads.” 

“Nonsense. Minnie loves me. And if you don’t want to be late, you should take me up on my offer.” He held his hand out. “Don’t you trust me?” 

She sighed. Once again, her resolved crumbled thanks to James Fleamont Potter. “You know I do.” 

“Then get on.” She jumped up, gripping his waist as tight as she could. His voiced shook his chest. “Hang on, love.” 

She screamed, nuzzling her face into his back instantly. James laugh echoed through the grounds, and she couldn’t help but laugh with him. It was contagious, his laughter. What felt like seconds later, their feet touched the ground, her hold as strong as ever. “You can let go now, Y/N/N.” 

She shook her head, rather comfortable in this position. “One more second.” 

“You’re shameless.” He whispered. 

She nodded, releasing her hold. “I’m ready now.” James grabbed her hand, racing towards McGonagall’s classroom. “Merlin, James slow down!” 

“Can’t have our resident genius late to class. It’s a bad look Y/N/N!” 

She laughed, panting. “I’m not our resident genius James!” 

They whipped around the corner, throwing the doors open. McGonagall stood at the head of the room, her eyebrows raised. Giggles echoed through the class, the Marauders audibly laughing. McGonagall cleared her throat. “Mr. Potter. Ms. Baudelaire. How kind of you to join us. What exactly were you doing before you intrusion?” 

Y/N turned bright red, stuttering. “Professor, I am so sorry, I-” 

“It was my fault Minnie. I was running through the halls and bumped into Baudelaire. She took a nasty fall so I offered to walk with her to make sure she was alright.” He looked over at Y/N his eyes wide, practically screaming ‘go along with it.’ “Just plain, old fashioned chivalry.” 

Y/N fought a giggle back down her throat. “Exactly. Chivalry.” 

Sirius laughed, before quickly getting smacked over the head by Remus. McGonagall nodded, turning back to the chalkboard. “In the future, Mr. Potter, watch where you’re running.” 

He nodded. “Of course, Minnie.” 

Y/N looked down, realizing they were still holding hands. James grinned, pulling her over to their desk. He leaned over, whispering in her ear. “I told you we’d be fine.” 

She blushed, pushing him away. “Minnie really does love you.”

[bruh-myguy-what]

Can I request Crosshair with "sorry, that was my first kiss." "i could tell." "...." "i'm kidding!" I don't imagine any of the Batch have ever kissed someone before. 🤭

Jealous Much?

Pairing: Crosshair x Fem!Reader Warnings: Massive fluff, Crosshair being a cutie pie and not understanding his own emotions because he's silly, light cursing, nothing other than that really Word Count: 2.2K Summary: After running into a "Reg" in the halls of Kamino, Crosshair hears something he doesn't like and it bothers him. A/N: I really liked this prompt for Cross and I've actually not written anything for him yet, so this was fun! Thanks for request precious anon! I hope it was what you were looking for when you sent in the request!

Requests are currently closed until I finish the ones I have in my inbox!

Don't forget you can also support me on ko-fi! If you like my writing, you can always just give me a little tip to help me continue my work!

_______________________________________________________

"Mesh'la~" A clone trooper called after you with a smile, "Why don't you stop hanging out with those defective boys and come hang out with real men, huh? I know you miss me~" He teased, mirthfully, as he blew you a kiss.

While you found the trooper's antics amusing, evidently none of the other Batchers had. Crosshair hissed a snide "filthy reg" under his breath as he took your arm and positioned himself between you and the other man. Hunter rolled his eyes with an exhausted sigh, Echo shrugging when Tech looked between you and the other clone. "What precisely does he mean when he says 'I know you miss me'?"

You only chuckled and shook your head in reply but flinched a little when you met Crosshair's sharp eyes. "W-What?" Your voice was hushed as it passed through your lips, almost as if you were intimidated by him.

The sniper simply lifted a brow at you, the tattoo over his eye elongating. "You didn't answer Tech." He answered with his coiled voice, toothpick moving over his thin lips. Was he serious? Why did it even bother him? You knew very well he had more contempt for the regs than even the others did, but for him to care so much about why the other trooper mentioned you neglecting him was odd- even for Crosshair.

You shrugged unhurriedly, eyes wide, as if you'd been caught in a speeder's headlights. Glancing toward the others to see if they were as confused as you were, but instead noticed they were also staring at you- waiting for a response. Tech adjusted his goggles on his face while Hunter rested his weight onto one of his hips, arms crossing over his broad chest. Echo blinked at you, and Wrecker tilted his head curiously. "What, seriously?" Was all you could summon as you looked at them all in amazement. "Is it really that big of a deal to you guys?"

"Well," Tech began simply, glancing at Hunter, "yes."

"Seriously?!" You shot back, your voice filled with offense then huffing out loudly at their insanely meddlesome behavior.

"Seriously." Crosshair's whispery tone upset you and the glare you sent him scarcely made him shift. "So, are you going to keep us waiting...or?"

"For kriff sake..." You muttered as a hand ran across your face, bitterness lacing your breath. "Fine! I made out with him once while we were at 79s on shore leave, are you happy now?" Your answer stunned them and they once again shared of look amongst themselves. "Stars. Karking fools, not everything is your business." Breathing out an annoyed sigh, you forced past them and fled into your bunk room.

"It would seem we have upset her," Tech noted after a beat of silence, to which both Hunter and Echo gave him a disapproving glance. "What? I am not incorrect. I am merely stating a factual examination as I have observed the situation."

"Stow it, Tech." Echo growled with a fatigued voice, pushing past him as they all began striding back to their own shared bunk room. Crosshair, however, lingered; eyes still eyeing where you had disappeared further down the hall. Why was it bugging him so badly to know that you had kissed that reg? It felt like gnawing in his chest like a wild nexu was bitting him.

He loathed it.

Why wouldn't it go away?

"Cross?" Hunter's deep voice broke the taller clone out of his thoughts and he looked over at his brother who was standing in the doorway. "You coming?" He questioned, a raise to his brow as he scrutinized him.

Nodding, Crosshair joined the others in the room with a faint 'yeah' and flicked his toothpick aside.

The night went on without much more discourse about your "adventure" with the reg but Crosshair couldn't get the idea out of his head and he was increasingly becoming cranky. Far more cranky than usual. The trooper was practically seething at one point while taking apart his rifle for the fourth time, griping to himself and shoving the pieces together sharply. "Any harder and I think you'll bust it, Cross." Echo comments, stepping over to his bunk to lie down.

"Shut up." The sniper hissed grouchily, driving a piece together especially hard and pinching his finger. He cursed under his breath spitting out his toothpick and placing his finger in his mouth to numb the ache.

Hunter chuckled at the exchange, "Listen, if you're so bothered by her kissing that reg, why don't you go make up for lost time and stop making the air so sticky with your angst." The man lounged in his own bunk, twirling his vibroblade around nimbly.

Crosshair prickled at the remark and turned to look at Hunter with a dangerous glare. "What do you mean by that?" His voice was low and lethal as he spoke, daring his brother to repeat himself.

"I believe you heard him well enough, did you not?" Tech piped up from his workbench, accommodating his goggles to look over at Crosshair. "However, if you were not clear on his meaning, he was proposing that you go and kiss her to make your intentions apparent."

Crosshair's nasty glower slowly landed on his intelligent brother and narrowed even further, his brow now raising in challenge. "What in the galaxy are you idiots going on about?"

"Well, you want to kiss her, don't ya?" Wrecker chimed in with a careful voice, making sure he was following the conversation correctly. Echo suppressed a laugh at Crosshair's dumbfounded expression at his larger brother.

"Of course, he does, Wrecker," Tech replied in Crosshair's stead with a matter-of-fact tone, restarting his work on whatever gadget sat in front of him.

Crosshair growled, stood up from the crate he was sulking on and lurked out of the bunk room into the hallway. Gritting the toothpick between his teeth, he groused to himself again, brown eyes traveling in the direction of your door. Hunter's comments persisted in his mind about going to you and...

But Crosshair barely considered the thought and waved his hand in the air as if he could swat away the notion. There wasn't any way in all the galaxy he was going to show up at your door like some loser with a crush.

The tall sniper rolls his eyes and then blinks in shock as he finds himself in front of a door. Your door. "What the hell?" He murmured to himself in bewilderment, eyes narrowed as if the door could give him an explanation.

He stood there for a surprisingly long time, debating with himself mentally; attempting to figure out what to do. Knocking on the door would require him to follow through with something he could easily make a fool of himself with, or...he could turn away and continue to seeth in jealousy over you being with other men.

Jealousy?

Wait...

That had just struck Crosshair.

It was the first time the idea of him being jealous truly passed his thoughts, though it made sense...the sentiment lingering in his chest corresponding to the word flawlessly.

He was jealous.

Aggravatingly so.

He hated to admit it. The thought made him feel...vulnerable; as if you have power over him in some way. But if he considered it in more depth, you did. Secretly he had been admiring you for months, amazed at how you took his brazen nature in stride and followed thoroughly alongside his banter. It startled him, pleasantly, when you first quipped back at him so effortlessly- his brothers typically being the only ones able to handle their comebacks well enough to leave him in silence. However, within weeks with the group you had smoothly grinned at him and shot back as if his offensive mood hadn't phased you in the least. He'd found himself gravitating toward you after that, interested in why you were able to tolerate him so well, wondering if he could push you further or cross a line that would make you furious; to which he uncovered nothing. The only thing he'd encountered was your gentle nature, sparked by sass and a smirk that made his heart race.

A whooshing sound startled him back to the present and he was met with your face. "What the hell are you doing out here, Crosshair?" You asked with a bothered expression.

Apparently the decision had been made for him. He was fully aware that if he turned around now he'd never live it down and would seem like a coward. He'd also have to deal with hearing about you kissing other regs which irked him even more than the idea of his brothers teasing him for being a wuss. So he rested his weight on one of his hips and smirked at you, flicking his toothpick past you. "You seemed annoyed back there, sunshine." He chose to go the route of antagonizing you, his more preferred form of communication; especially when breaching a matter he felt out of his depths to manage.

You rolled your eyes, infuriated. "That's because you and your idiot brothers were being assholes. It's none of your business what I do in my free time."

"What if I want it to be?" Crosshair heard himself speak before he could stop it but he chose to remain steadfast in the face of your changing expression.

Your raised brow and slow hand gestures implored him to continue as if what he said was unfinished. "And so what if you did want that? I'm not your-" Then it hit you and a blush rushed over your cheeks.

The clone stood there and he could feel his hands trembling, uncharacteristically. He wasn't predisposed to anxiety, none of his brothers were, but now he felt as if his heart were going to leap out his chest and through his armor directly into your hands. Silence continued to linger between the two of you with only the narrowing of Crosshair's eyes as a reaction.

"You..."

"Don't flatter yourself too much." Crosshair interrupts with a roll of his eyes, trying to fight off the embarrassment that started to creep up his own cheeks.

A smile began to form on your face, much to his dismay. "Crosshair...are you saying you're...jealous of that reg?" You were testing your luck and you knew it, he was never this clumsy in conversation with you but you couldn't help yourself when you caught the reddening of his cheeks.

"Stow it or I'll walk away right now." He hissed hatefully and crossed his arms over his chest, making no effort to move. While Crosshair despised the feeling of floundering he felt in the moment, he also found it...exciting. He was caught desperate and nervous in the sight of someone he cared for and your smile was stunning.

You chuckled at his expression, his face turning away from you to look down the hall where he'd come from. "You are jealous!" The triumph on your face was simultaneously aggravating and charming to the sniper, his trained eye taking in every detail even from his side glance. "I can't believe you're jealous because I kissed some reg, what are you a school girl? Little Crosshair feeling jealous because I kissed someone el-"

Your taunting was cut off quickly by the taller man as he covered your mouth with his; your eyes blowing wide. It was inelegant, awkward, and hurried but filled with an unexpected sweetness. You could feel his hands shaking as they held your face gently, his eyes squeezed shut. Scarcely given the chance to kiss him back before he pulled away, you grumbled in disappointment.

Crosshair stepped back out of your personal space with a dark blush across his cheeks, avoiding your eyes as he cleared his throat. He'd never felt so overwhelmed by emotion in all of his life and for him to act upon them in such a physical way left him tense.

"Crosshair..." You whispered his name with a grin, blinking a few times to make sure you were still in reality, not one of your many dreams. He peeked up at you momentarily and you could tell he would rather be shot by a blaster bolt than acknowledge that he'd just kissed you but you disregarded the look and stepped back up to him. "I'm gonna have to teach you how to kiss properly if you're going to want to keep doing that, ya know?" You teased softly.

Crosshair still denied any eye contact with you, missing the sweet expression on your face. "Th-That was my first kiss, so I don't know what you expected." His voice came out hastily by the end and had a bite to it, but you only chuckled at his shy behavior and kissed his cheek.

"I could tell." You joked lightly, a wise grin on your face.

Crosshair whipped his head to look at you, his glare fierce at your comment; which is what you had anticipated. You smiled up at him warmly and his heart leapt at the sight. Turning away from your captivating expression quickly, you hug him, resting your head against his chest plate.

"Wait! I'm sorry! I was just kidding!" You laughed at his pouting, knowing that you'd never let him live down the shade of red his face had gotten; even if just between the two of you.

[shadowsndaisies]

the hard deck: athena settles debts (pt 4)

WC: 898

synopsis: what if Mav's daughter settled his tab that night in the hard deck

main masterlist

athena-verse masterlist

a/n: this was brought on as i rewatched top gun maverick again, because i love it. and even though i should be finishing the last update of season 1 for codename: nightingale (which is only missing the final fight btw its almost done!!!) i took a little brain rot break. also top gun's been officially added to my masterlist!

You'd heard the jukebox get pulled and then the piano, and you couldn't move. Even when Phoenix tried to convince you to join her by the piano. You watched as Hangman and Coyote stayed with a few others by the pool tables at first, but even they started wandering over eventually.

Hangman, however, moved slow. He lingered by you first, saddling up beside the table. And ehen he realized your gaze was going to stay focused on your beer's label, where your fingers were slowly peeling it off the bottle, he knocked on the table. A look far more gentle than you'd anticipate in such a public place crossed his face as your eyes met his.

" 'Thena?" he calls your callsign with a softness that you know is real, and your lips tug down at the thought of having to lie to him when he's being so open with you.

Before you can say anything else before he can ask more, Penny rings the bell again, and chants of "overboard" can be heard. Saved by the bell, literally.

"Go," you nod. "Penny beckons," you tease softly, forcing your lips to turn up.

He nods, and both Payback and Coyote go with him.

When you follow them with your gaze, you meet your dad's eyes, and when the three younger pilots take up positions, boxing him in, a small quirk of a smirk curls at your lips, because it would be him. He seems to catch your eye just in time and offers up a half smile in response. You watch as Penny gives a nod, her head jerking toward the door. Then the three hoist your dad up in their arms and carry him, before throwing him out, a small amused smile now on your lips, as you make a note to stop by the Kazansky house tomorrow, Ice would love to hear about this.

You're so focused that you miss the first few notes. It's not until a familiar voice fills the space with lyrics that you learned as a baby that there's a sickening twist in your stomach and a renewed need to leave as you push out of your seat, leaving the half empty beer behind.

You move to the bar as Bradley begins to sing and have to force yourself not to look at him. You know what you'd see, aviators perched low on his nose, still slightly crooked from when he'd caught a fastball to the face as a teenager. Curls that are almost golden in the light but had to be matted somewhat by the heat and sweat inside the bar. He had that stupid mustache just like his father's, that was just borderline within regs. You know his dog tags were visible on top of his tank top, with some stupid Hawaiian shirt hanging open. You know what you'd see, so you do your beat to avoid looking.

If you had caved, what you would've also seen is how he searched for you while he sang. A slow scan of the bar, for the girl he learned the lyrics beside, propped on an old piano as a toddler as your father's and his mother sang along, holding little you in her arms. In the mass of people surrounding the piano though, he's having a hard time finding you, why did he pick this song?

"Hey, Penny," you call her name, and her head snaps to you, from where she'd been watching your dad get tossed out.

Your lips quirk on end a bit. Years have gone by, and her relationship with your father, volatile as it can be, still has been the most steadfast of your life. She was your mom in all the ways that mattered.

"I didn't realize they called you back too," she says, talking a bit loud over the music.

"Best of the Best, Miss Penny," you muse, though there's a hollowness in your chest as you say it, she seems to catch it.

"What can I get you, sweetheart?" she asks, grabbing a glass and you shake your head.

"No, I, uh… I'll settle for the old man," you tell her, head tilting as you slide your card across the bar.

"No, he'd—"

You cut her off, though, before she can argue. "No, let me. I, uh, I was heading out anyways. You know him, he'd hate to have an open tab," you admit, throwing in a joke to add some levity.

"Sweetheart-" she tries again, and you know she can read you. Despite all the years and gaps in your relationship with her. This was the woman who took you to buy pads for the first time, you knew that she knew you.

"Please, Pen, I… I can't be here, not with this. It's so much worse for him, too. Let me settle it," you admit to her rawly, and her gaze moves to where there's a live performance.

"History's a fickle thing, isn't it?" she offers instead, taking your card. "The ones we truly care about, they always seem to come back in the end, though."

"You'd know better than me, Pen," you shoot back, your tones got a bit defensive but she doesn't even flinch.

She hands you your card with a bittersweet smile, "I guess I would," she nods.

You let out a sigh, and look back at her, "Tell Amelia I'm back?" you ask, and she nods. "At the end of this, whatever it is, tell her I'll take her for ice cream?" you tag on, signing the receipt.

"I will, she'll hold you to it though (Y/n)," Penny confirms.

"I'd expect nothing less as a woman of the Navy," you muse, tucking your card away and turning from the bar.

Rooster's still singing, his voice as pretty as ever. And you can't help your self. You cave.

sue me, you think as you look over at him just once as you pause by the door.

"Well, kiss me baby! Ooh! That feel's good!" he sings, and you smile to yourself despite the ache, shaking your head as you push the doors and walk out. He had a smile on his face, and maybe, maybe you could learn to be okay.

Maybe.

(Probably not.)

You're unlocking your truck when you hear your name. "Athena!" You pause and turn, surprised to see both Phoenix and Hangman; after all, they always seem to be at ends.

"Where are you going?" Phoenix is the one to ask, her cheeks are flushed and her chests heaving a bit from how she'd all but been screaming the lyrics from beside Rooster.

"Home, gotta get some beauty rest before tomorrow," you tell them. "Make sure I'm ready to show you all up," you cover.

"Are you sure?" Phoenix asks, hesitating by the door.

"Yeah, I'll see you bright and early," you reassure her.

She seems to take your word as she nods once at you before heading back into the bar. Hangman, on the other hand, has stayed outside.

"Bravado was never your strong suit, 'Thena, it's mine," he drawls, and though the words are cocky, you understand the question hidden there.

"Go inside, Jake. I'll see you tomorrow," you say softly before getting in your truck. "I gotta keep both my feet on the ground," you add, willing him to understand, before shutting the door.

You notice he stays, watching as you pull out. It's only once you pull out on the road that he turns to go back in.

He be-lines straight to Coyote, missing the look that Rooster sends him as struts back in. The one that lingers on the door, waiting for you to walk back in as well, not that you do.

...

a/n: come talk with me about this athena idea if you want, it's been a while since i've posted anything not DC, so it was kind of fun. I have a longer non-related top gun fic in my drafts too, but that'll come after cnng probably

everything tags: @butterfly-skinnylegend

[wreckedandpolemic]

bunny ears and devil horns - matty healy

(mdni) in which your halloween costume gets your boyfriend so riled up that he needs to remind you who you belong to. part of the white and gold universe and promptober75 2024. 2717 words.

You fix the devil horns on the top of your head, watching your reflection to centre them. The girl in the mirror smirks back at you, lips painted a shade of red that matches your lingerie. It’s scarcely more than scraps of lace, accentuating your figure with straps that criss-cross over your body. A garter holds up your sheer stockings, feet tucked into red-bottom stilettos.

Squeezing into the red vinyl minidress that completes your “costume” is more of a task than you’d expected, but the effect is perfect. You text Matty a picture of your outfit and what’s underneath, captioned happy halloween, daddy ;) do you like the dress better on or off? Matty’s response is immediate, flashing up his contact before you’ve even put your phone down. You let it ring for a moment, make him sweat a little before you pick up with an innocent little, “Hello?”

“Jesus fucking Christ, princess. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

You giggle. “You know, this is why I call you an old man. You’re an old man with a weak heart, Matthew, and I’m going to inherit all your money when you die.”

“Behave yourself,” Matty teases. “You look gorgeous, princess. Have fun, be safe, don’t talk to any boys.” His grin is audible, and you groan.

“But what if they’re gonna give me free drinks?” you pout, half-jokingly wheedling.

“Especially not then,” Matty answers. “Should just let me drive up there instead. I can buy you much better booze than some grease-faced twenty-year-old boy, and I’m definitely better company.”

You laugh at how serious he sounds, his jealousy creeping in at the edges of his tone. “Oh, you wanna be the only man I’m using for his money, right? But it’s so fun, and they make it so easy.”

Matty practically growls, a low, frustrated noise filling your ear. “Will you behave? Such a slut, aren’t you, princess? Been too long since I’ve made you mine, huh?”

“You know I’m yours. Makes it more fun, letting them buy me drinks and think I’m gonna let them get anywhere before I tell them I have a real man waiting for me at home.”

He laughs, low and rich and sweet. “Music to my ears, princess. Have fun tonight, yeah? Call me when you’re home.”

“You sure? It’s gonna be past your bedtime.” Matty only scoffs, adding a soft I love you that makes you pout and long for him. “I love you too.”

You drink and dance your way through the evening, barely paying for anything and always slipping teasingly out of your suitors’ grasp. And it’s fun, it is, your head spinning joyfully as your friends pull you into the circle, but you miss Matty achingly, painfully conscious of the distance between you, how long it’ll be before you get to see him, have him, again.

Sure, it’s a little codependent, but you’ve never been so in love. A year ago, this would’ve been your ideal night, drunk and dancing and flirting to your heart’s content; now, though, all you want is to curl up in bed with your boyfriend and a vintage red. A little melancholy, you duck out early, barely making it to midnight and hoping you’ll still catch Matty once you’re home.

There’s an extra car in your driveway, but it’s too dark to make out the model or reg number, so you shrug and fumble with your keys to let yourself in. Coming face-to-face with Matty helping himself to coffee in your kitchen shocks you almost into sobriety, your knees practically buckling as you throw yourself into his arms. You press hungry, needy kisses over his face in a way that’s definitely indecent for your shared living space. “Hi, princess,” Matty grins.

“What are you doing here?” you laugh disbelievingly.

“Wanted to be waitin’ at home for you,” he smirks. “Make sure you remember what your real man feels like.”

You tilt your head knowingly. “You’re jealous,” you giggle. “Saw how hot I looked tonight and got mad that a bunch of silly boys were the only ones enjoying it, right?”

“Just wanna make sure everyone knows who you belong to, yeah?” You smirk, taking his hand and pulling him along to your bedroom. Matty slams you against the door as soon as it’s closed, kissing and licking and biting at your neck with abandon.

“Don’t I look pretty, Daddy?” you sigh, tilting your head to give him better access. “I want you to tell me how pretty I am, tell me everything you want to do to me,” you breathe, threading a hand into Matty’s curls and lifting his head. His eyes are black with lust when they meet yours, his lips swollen and spit-slick.

Groaning, he drops his hands to grab your ass, his gaze weighted and heavy. “You’re so fucking gorgeous, princess. So pretty for me, and only for me, yeah?” You nod feverishly. “Had to get off as soon as you hung up the phone, angel. God, this fucking dress. Couldn’t stop thinking about how gorgeous you’d look dancing, about bringing you home and getting on my knees, gettin’ you undressed and fucking you in just your belt and stockings.”

You moan, grinding against the bulge in his trousers; heat floods your body and drips into your panties, hunger gnawing between your thighs. “The shoes, too?” you tease, hooking one leg around him to press a stiletto heel against the back of his thigh.

“Shit, if you want,” Matty answers, lifting you off your feet and laying you on the bed. “So fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, half to himself. “D’you mind if I take a picture, princess? I just— y’so pretty, so perfect.”

Eagerly, you nod. “You’re so sweet, so good to me. Make me so happy,” you beam. “Y’gotta fuck me like a whore, though, okay? Maybe I was a bad girl tonight, drinking and flirting with boys to make them think they had a chance,” you say, a teasing pout playing on your lips. You toss your head wildly, posing provocatively for Matty’s camera.

“Such a dirty little girl,” he smirks. “You wanna get punished? Get that pathetic excuse for a dress off for me, okay, princess?” He’s still standing at the foot of your bed, camera poised, when you reach up at him.

“Can’t take it off on my own,” you say, biting your lip and rolling over. “S’too tight. I’m stuck,” you add, deliberately playing up the porn dialogue and arching your back. You moan happily when he straddles the backs of your thighs, his fingers warm as they find your zipper and tug gently.

Torturously slow, Matty unzips you, like you’re a gift wrapped up all for him. A stuttering gasp leaves his lips as he pulls the dress off you, grabbing your ass and kneading like he can’t resist. He spanks you harshly, and you arch greedily up into his touch. “This fucking ass drives me crazy, princess. You want me to fuck you there later?”

Your cunt throbs with need. “Please,” you moan into the sheets. “S’all yours, Daddy. Do whatever you want with me. But make me hurt first, okay? You gotta teach your little slut a lesson,” you add, smirking over your shoulder at him as his eyes go black with lust.

“So fuckin’ needy,” he scoffs, smacking the inside of your thigh. Sweet pleasure-pain arcs under your skin, hot and dizzying. “You want everyone to know who you belong to, hm? Gonna make you scream loud enough for the entire city to hear,” he smirks. Without even waiting for the instruction, you shift into your favourite position for him; face down, ass up and ready for whatever he wants to give. You knead a lace-clad breast in one hand, pinching and rolling your nipple through the thin fabric. “Jesus, y’fucking soaked through, princess,” Matty mutters, pulling your panties to the side and spitting on your dripping cunt.

You moan helplessly against your pillow, writhing greedily as you feel his spit dripping down your skin. “Daddy, please,” you beg. “M’so needy, so wet for you, I can’t wait any longer.” You gasp, entire body jolting as Matty leans down, licks a broad stripe over your cunt, kisses your clit.

“You can’t wait?” Matty says, mocking tone sending the need hammering in your veins into a fever pitch. “Greedy girl wants to get filled up and punished?” You moan out an affirmative, feeling his weight shift as he leans over to your bedside drawer and pulls out a toy. You hear him uncap a bottle of lube and slick up the toy, cunt clenching when he presses it gently against your hole. “You ready?”

“Please, Daddy. Please stop teasing. I can’t— fuckkk,” you cry, the suddenness of Matty slamming the toy into you sending liquid heat spiralling through your body. “Shit, yes,” you moan, breaking into a keening wail when he switches the toy on, the rabbit sending pulses of pleasure so intense at your clit that it nearly hurts.

“There you go, darling. All ready now, huh?” Without waiting for an answer, Matty brings his hand down to smack your ass hard. Every slap jolts the vibrator against your swollen clit, garbled whines falling pathetically from your lips. Your ass is flaming red and stinging as Matty brings his hand down again, pleasure coiling tight at the base of your spine. “Look so gorgeous all bruised up for me, princess. You’re matchin’ that pretty lace.” Your hips shift, at once desperately chasing pleasure and retreating from overstimulation.

Arching your back, you grind down against the vibrator, already melting into a slick puddle of need. “Daddy,” you whine, without even knowing what you’re pleading for. Pleasure winds itself tight through your body, your muscles tense and your head spinning.

Matty strokes the curve of your ass gently, smacks you hard, and you gasp, a high whine falling from your lips as the vibrator presses insistently against your clit. “Oh, sweet girl,” he sighs. “You gonna cum?” he coos, one hand sliding around to your front and gently cradling you. You nod helplessly, garbled whines falling from your lips. “Oh, baby. Go on, princess. Cum for me. You look so pretty when you cum, darling.”

One more hard slap to your inner thigh has you screaming, pitching headfirst into pure ecstasy. “Ohmygod, Daddy, yes!” you cry, face buried in the pillow as tears brim in your eyes. Pleasure clenches vice-tight around your organs, bordering on pain in your cunt where the vibrator still hammers against your sensitive nerves. Arousal drips down your legs, incoherent moans falling from your lips and heat licking in your belly.

Your cunt clenches as Matty pulls the toy free and you whine. “God, you’re so pretty,” he murmurs, leaning down to kiss your swollen clit. “You ready for Daddy to take what he needs, princess?”

You giggle breathlessly. “What do you need, Daddy?”

“Need to fuck this slutty little pussy, darling. Need to hear those pretty noises you make, fill you up, make sure you remember whose girl you are, alright?” Matty says, almost a moan.

“Please,” you breathe out, and the word’s barely left your lips before he’s inside you, your soaked cunt taking him greedily. Desire pulses heady between your legs, your back arching as you try desperately to fuck yourself back on him.

Matty’s nails dig into your hips, pain flaring where his body meets the sore flesh of your ass. “God, you feel so good, princess. Missed this sweet cunt so bad. Gonna fuck you ‘til you can’t remember your own name, beautiful,” he promises, slamming his hips hard against yours.

Whimpering softly, your eyes slip shut as Matty’s fingers trail slickly over your wet clit. “Wish we could just fucking stay like this forever,” you groan, dazed and swimming in pleasure with Matty buried to the hilt inside you. You can feel him nearly trembling with the effort of holding still. “Give it to me, Daddy,” you plead. “I need it. Need it so hard I can’t walk tomorrow.”

“Such a little cockslut, princess. Want Daddy to fuck you dumb, right?” You nod frantically, whining out affirmatives as he traces his thumb over your hip. “S’it okay if I turn you over, darling? Wanna kiss my sweet girl while I make her stupid for me.”

Even though you agree, a whine slips out of you when he pulls out, just for a second, to flip you over. He smiles softly down at you, adoring, brushes a stray piece of hair off your face. Pouting, you arch up towards Matty until he gives you what you want; a slow, deep kiss as he fills you exactly the same way. Ecstasy floods your body, Matty’s hips slamming hard against yours as he drips moans into your mouth. “That’s my good little girl,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “Just gotta lay back and take it, okay, princess? Daddy’s gonna take good care of you.”

“So good to me,” you groan, locking your legs around his waist and pressing your heel into his back. Matty’s pained little moan falls straight to your cunt, pulses in your ears, slick, sweet noises filling the room. “Mmh, Daddy,” you whine, high and needy as he fucks into you.

Matty groans into your neck, sucks a bruise into soft skin. “My sweet girl,” he sighs, covering his mouth with yours. “Always so good for me, even when you’re a little slut,” he teases, circling your clit as you thrash under him.

Wild, erratic pleasure spills under your skin, your body precariously close to its end. “M’your little slut,” you moan, threading a hand through Matty’s curls and pulling him in for a kiss. “M’so close, Daddy, please!”

Smiling against your lips, Matty pinches your clit softly. “D’you deserve it, princess?” he asks, low and slightly dangerous. You bite your lip. “Nah, I didn’t think so either. Luckily for you, I’m feelin’ generous, angel. I’ll let you cum…” You bate your breath, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “If you beg for it,” he adds with a smirk.

“Please, Daddy,” you gasp. “Please let me cum, I need it. Need you, want you all the time, please,” you practically scream, dissolving into incoherent, wanton pleas as Matty fucks into you over and over.

Your pulse hammers between your thighs, cunt clenching desperately around him. “Go on, princess. Cum for Daddy. Soak my cock, yeah?”

He tweaks your nipple, kisses your pulse point, slams hard into you, and you break. Your body collapses in on itself, pleasure crumbling your muscles one by one as you moan out the only word you know; Daddy. Pure ecstasy wipes your mind clean, melts into a hot puddle between your legs, Matty’s body warm and grounding against yours.

You smile blithely up at him, scrunching your face when he pulls out. “Wanna paint these pretty tits, angel. You gonna let me?” Eagerly, you nod, arching your back to press your tits up towards him. Your eyes fall to his cock, slick with your arousal and drooling precum as he strokes himself. The column of Matty’s neck stretches beautifully as he throws his head back in pleasure, moaning sweetly. He chokes out your name as he comes, cum splashing across your tits.

“You wanna get one more picture?” you grin, and Matty nods with wide eyes, fumbling for his phone and breathing hard as he photographs you. You start to draw patterns in the mess across your chest, sucking your fingers into your mouth and cleaning his cum off them.

“Such a little cumslut, princess. Love how filthy you are,” Matty murmurs, leaning down to kiss you and moaning quietly at his own taste. There’s a subtle, almost imperceptible shift in his demeanour, then, and you catch the moment with both hands.

Smirking a little, you reach up to tug on his hair. “I saw that, Daddy. It’s okay, you got what you needed, can just be my good boy now. I’ll take care of you,” you promise, rolling on top of him and pressing your bodies together. The sticky mess of him smears between your chests, and you kiss him softly. “I’ll let you have whatever you want, Daddy. Just gotta say please.”

[miriammctroi]

Fic Scrap: Forced Marriage, second chance, Trans-Reg & Simp James

James meets Regulus pre Transitioning when he convinces his family to vacation in the same place as Sirius’s.

He falls in love INSTANTLY

They are 15 and 16 and he looks at Reg and immediately tries to woo him & prepares speeches to ask Sirius for his blessing. They have a short summer fling that neither Sirius nor his parents find out about. The Blacks forbid their children from associating with the Potters anyway.

Sirius runs away at some point. The Blacks are in a hurry to marry off Regulus to another prestigious family.

James didn't have contact with Reg in those years but he shows up before the wedding and begs him to run away with him, like Sirius.

Regulus confesses that he doesn't want to get married but he feels trapped and fears for his safety if he doesn't do it.

Then he confesses that he is trans. James is the first person he tells about it.

James promises to give him a life as a man, do anything in his power to protect him and give him what he wants. He reminds him of their summer and that he has been dreaming about being with him since then.

In the end they kiss, but Regulus can't go through with running away.

He gets married.

James is heartbroken.

Two years later, he gets a call out of nowhere.

"James?" The voice is quiet, shy even. Oddly familiar but he can't place it.

"Yes? Who is this?"

"It's, uhm, ... it's me."

James is about to ask who, when the recognition zaps through his body, making him sit up straight and half get out of his chair.

He almost says the name he has always known him as, but remembering his confession on his wedding day, he decides against it.

"You," He whispered. "Is it really..."

"Yes."

James closes his eyes at this voice. He has missed it far more than reasonable for a teenage summer fling and a kiss at his wedding to someone else.

"How are you?"

"Good. ...No, great. Fantastic even."

He hears a smile in his voice. He rarely ever smiled.

"I just applied for a divorce."

This pulls him out of his office chair fully. Unable - and unwilling - to hide his excitement he asks, "Divorce?"

"Yes. My parents died and... I felt like it was now or never. ...I decided it was now."

"Oh my god, I'm so proud of you. I'm so happy for you."

There is a chuckle. James has only ever heard him chuckle once before. He wants to drink up that sound.

"I was wondering if you'd... like to go to dinner with me. So, I can tell you the details, if you want to hear them."

"I'd love to. Tonight? I'm off work at 6, I could meet you at seven or half past."

"Let's make it eight. I'll send you the address after I made the reservation."

"Lovely. I can't wait to see you again."

"Me neither."

James’s heart skips a beat.

"Are you safe?"

"Yes. Don't worry about me. ...I guess I should let you go back to work. I don't want to take up too much of your time."

"No, please, take up all my time. It's been so long since I've heard your voice. Tell me something, anything."

"Okay... uhm, I made some decisions about my life going forward. Would you like to hear them?"

"In great detail."

Another chuckle. "I'll leave the details for the dinner. For now, it is this: I want to be called Regulus. I want to go on T, oficially change my name and sex, go back to my old surname, at least for a little while. I want to have top surgery. I want to get my own flat. I want to adopt at least two cats. I want to go to university, study something, get a job, earn money. I want to learn things and have hobbies that have nothing to do with chores. ... I want to kiss you."

His heart seemed determined to make up for the lost beats by doubling and tripling in speed.

"I want to kiss you in a very, very messy, improper and gay way. ...would that be okay with you?"

"Okay?" James half laughed, trying not to have a heart attack from pure joy. "Regulus. Regulus, Regulus, I vow that I will not rest until every dream and wish of yours is fulfilled."

"Good," Regulus said, and James could hear his relief. "I should go now. I'll see you tonight."

"Yes, yes you will, Regulus."

"Good. ...bye."

"Bye."

They don't hang up. They can't. They have to say good bye four times more until they finally hang up. James skips through the office, a large grin plastered on his face, telling anyone who doesn't want to hear it how he had a date with the most gorgeous person to ever walk the earth tonight.

When he finally arrives at the restaurant, he sees Regulus with short hair and a suit that doesn't belong to him and he knows this will be his future husband. And their wedding will be much grander and happier than Regulus’s first one.

[mightbeimpossiblenotto]

Dear - Oct 24 - @rosekillermicrofic - 647 words - Warnings: none

Evan felt awful. He’d stayed home sick from work, and his head was pounding and his throat aching. He was miserable, but he was terrible at relaxing, and spent his time responding to the owl post. He’d received a letter from his mother a week ago that he’d neglected to write a response to because he’d run out of parchment. Deciding that while he was ill was just as good a time to write to his mother than any, Evan searched their entire flat for a spare bit of parchment.

He ended up digging in Barty’s old school trunk, of all places. It was sitting in the corner of their dining room, untouched for several years after they’d left Hogwarts. Evan was hoping to find an old scroll sitting in there, but got distracted by all of the things he found along the way. At the very bottom of the trunk, Evan found a letter addressed to him, and curiously opened it.

July 29th, 1978

Dear Evan,

Everything is terrible. Father is breathing down my neck about the future and Mother is practically a ghost haunting us, with how little life is left in her.

I wish I was with you. Everything is better when you’re around.

I miss you terribly. I miss spending every meal by your side, prodding you to eat a little more food because you’re somehow still lanky and thin. I miss the dorm, and I miss crawling into your bed to bug you. I even miss Reg making fun of us.

I think I’m in love with you. I’m not going to send this letter. I just needed to write those words out on paper. I’m in love with you, I love you, I love you. I will always love you. It’s been driving me mad, lately — not the fact that I’m in love with you, but the fact that you don’t know. I wish I could just tell you. I wish we could live together after school, and I wish you would kiss me, and I wish we could spend forever together.

I’ve gotten incredibly soft since falling in love with you. It’s nauseating. I finally understand Reg’s incessant rambling about Potter. I could talk about you for ages.

I suppose I should stop pretending I’m writing to you, if I’m not even going to send the bloody letter. I thought it would help to put it to paper, but I only feel more longing.

Loveyouloveyouloveyou,

B

Evan folded up the short letter, staring at nothing as he processed the words. He’d never received the letter. He’d had no idea that Barty ever had feelings for him. Distantly, he heard Barty’s key click in the lock and the hinges squeaking as the door opened. He didn’t move from his spot, crouched on the floor by the trunk, still holding the unsent letter.

“Honey, I’m home!” Barty called out, as he always did. He stopped when he saw Evan by his trunk, clutching the letter. “What’s—“

“You were in love with me?” Evan blurted, watching Barty carefully. Fear crept across Barty’s face, but he quickly shut it down, his face becoming a mask.

“For the record, I’m still in love with you,” Barty said. “This doesn’t have to change anything, I’ve been in love with you for ages.”

Evan stood slowly on shaky legs, striding over to Barty and cupping his face in his hands. He pulled Barty’s face forward for a brief kiss, nothing more than a press of lips. Afterwards, Evan rested his forehead against Barty’s, both of them breathing the same air.

“‘For the record’,” Evan quoted, “I’ve been in love with you for practically my entire life.”

Barty laughed, the sound giddy and nervous. “Well, maybe I should have sent that letter, then.”

“Yeah, maybe you should have,” Evan agreed, and then surged forward for another kiss.

[smusherina]

yard work - chapter 3 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 2 / chapter 4

"So, have you heard of the new girl?" Regina asked, twirling a lock of hair on her finger.

You were still sitting on the couch several hours later. It was beginning to get dark.

"Caty Heron or something?"

"Cady, yes. What do you think of her?" Regina bit her bottom lip, sucking it and chewing at it in her mouth. Back when you were younger, her mom would've chastised her. Mrs George was lax about a lot of things, but she could not stand fidgeting. Nowadays, though, you doubted she had the heart to say anything negative to her daughter.

"I..." You tilted your head, thinking. "I don't really think of her. We're in the same calc class and she seems smart. Talks to Aaron a lot."

"Does she?" Regina narrowed her eyes and huffed. "I thought so."

"What? Don't tell me you're still hung up on Aaron Samuels. C'mon." You scoffed. "That dude, pretty as he is-" You knocked at your head. "All fluff, no substance. Hollow."

"Oh, because you would know so much about guys." Regina crossed her arms and stared at you petulantly.

"Yes, I would. I'm practically one of them." You shrugged nonchalantly. "By the way, shouldn't you get home?"

Regina didn't answer and just looked at you. You looked back, unsure of what she was thinking. You glanced around, wondering if you'd missed something.

"You're still- I mean, you're... A lesbian." She said slowly as if it were a curse word.

You laughed before answering. "Yes, Regina, I am still a lesbian. Just like I told you I was back then." You frowned. "Is there, like, a problem?"

"No." She said simply, but it didn't seem particularly truthful. "You don't know about what happened with Janis, then?"

"No, I just know she had to switch schools. Why, was it something you did?"

"No." Again, didn't seem too truthful. "I don't have a problem with you being a lesbian."

Clearly, she was uncomfortable talking about it. Still, something was off. You were almost certain Regina had had something to do with Janis leaving. She was probably lying to you.

"You're not going home for dinner then." Better to drop it for now. It wouldn't do either of you any good to push her. "Will your dad be mad?"

"As if he even notices I'm gone," She rolled her eyes, settling more comfortably on the couch. "He's always on the phone."

"I have frozen pizzas we could pop in the oven."

"I'm not eating that processed shit. We're ordering in."

"Reg, I can't order takeout 'til dad sends me more money."

"I'm paying, dummy, don't even worry about it." She pushed off the couch and walked to the kitchen. You trailed after her. "Where are the menus?"

"There should be some in the cabinet over there."

The evening turned to night with you two on the couch, chatting and eating pizza. The TV was turned on eventually. Adult Swim was playing some anime about cowboys in space, but neither of you was really watching.

You'd missed her so much. You didn't like thinking about it much, but that was the truth. You'd missed her for even longer than the two years you'd been officially cut off from her life. She'd started pulling away long before the silent treatment began. You didn't like thinking about how much it had hurt, how you'd felt your world go bleak when she rejected you. You'd never been one for confrontation, that was Regina's job, so talking to her about the why and how of it all had never felt like an option.

You'd eventually gotten the hint. And now, after all this time, after she had left you so easily, you were letting her back in just as easily. As if you were back in that time, sitting in the sandbox peacefully making castles when she came up behind you, pulled at one of your pigtails, and demanded you share your buckets and shovel. You were helpless against her force.

There was probably something deeply unhealthy about your friendship. She was probably only coming back because it was convenient for her. She wasn't interested in making amends- hell, she probably didn't even think there was anything to amend, in the first place.

This had been the way you two had been since forever. Her ploughing through anybody in her way, you clinging to her as she went, just as much of a victim and a perpetrator.

The Regina you missed was the impression of a girl, braces on her teeth, grass stains on her sundress, and laughter on her lips. The Regina that perhaps, maybe, probably was still hidden somewhere in her, but at the same time was just not her. Who she was now, who you were now, were so utterly different from back then.

Watching her face, illuminated blueish by the light from the TV, so much older but still soft and young, framed by naturally blonde hair but bleached a lighter shade, you made your peace. You were probably being way too dramatic about all this, but it felt like a big moment in your half-baked teenage brain. You would take her back every time. You would let her leave every time. You would stay in place while she explored the world, and if she deigned to come back, you'd be waiting.

"Hey, Reg," You said, quiet but not exactly a whisper.

"What?" She looked up at you, just bent over the coffee table grabbing another slice of pizza.

"I missed you." You said, so earnestly it sounded jarring to even your ears.

She scrunched up her nose. "'Cause I bought you pizza?"

"Yeah," You laughed. "That too."

If you hadn't been looking so closely, you might've missed the brief lapse in her armour. It was in the softening at the corners of her eyes, in the slackening of her face, the give in her spine. Something like affection, like she'd missed you too.

"You're a weirdo."

You only laughed more.

The moment passed and you continued eating and talking and watching TV. You must've fallen asleep at some point after Regina went to remove her makeup. Eventually, you couldn't tell when, you woke up to the sun shining through the blinds right into your eyes.

Shit. It was Monday. You pawed around yourself for your phone, flipped it open, and checked the time. Shit, indeed. You nudged Regina with your toe.

"Reg..." She didn't even stir. "Reg!" You pushed harder, causing her to groan and whine.

"What? Five... M're mins..." She mumbled into the cushion, curling up tighter.

"We're late for school, Reggie, c'mon we gotta go." You momentarily contemplated if it was worth even going in. Your dad would be busting a lung at the missed calc class anyway. But did you want to give him more reasons to yell at you? No, not really.

"I gotta go, c'mon." You moved towards her and really shook her.

"What?" She grumped at you. To be honest, it was really cute. She had dust around her eyes, sleep still lingering in her limbs. You'd touched her shoulder, covered by the knit blanket you'd given her last night, but you could feel how warm she was.

"School. It's Monday morning, sleepyhead."

It took no more than that for the reality to set in for her. Cursing up a storm and running around like a headless chicken, Regina tried gathering all her things that'd somehow ended up scattered around the night before. Her perfume was in the alcove by the front, her charger in the kitchen, hairbrush in the bathroom.

"Do you want a ride?" You asked before heading upstairs to change. Couldn't go to school in just Spiderman boxers.

"I have nothing to wear!" She screeched, glaring at you as if you'd caused this. She was the one who wanted to stay the night, jeez.

You held up your hands in surrender. "You can borrow some of my stuff."

"As if you have anything remotely fitting. You dress like a hobo." She said all that while climbing up the stairs past you, heading for your room. "A hobo with a liking to grunge music, nonetheless."

You walked after her, listening but not feeling the need to add anything. Once she got to your door and you went to follow, she whirled around.

"Uh, I'm gonna change." She sassed, though the intimidation was made less effective by the bareness of her face and the messiness of her hair. You smiled and gestured for her to go on.

"Be my guest." As if she needed the invitation.

To her credit, it didn't take long for her to pick something to wear, wash her face, and do her hair. In the meantime, you used the hallway bathroom to freshen up yourself. She stepped out wearing the same white tank top as the night before, over it a short-sleeve button-down in a glossy, satin black, and a black skirt she'd probably found at the very back of your closet. The button-down was neatly cinched around her waist and the skirt discreetly rolled up to be shorter than it really was.

The shirt was probably the nicest thing you owned. Something a relative had gotten you for your birthday. Versace or something like that.

"I'm going to have to go to school in sneakers, jorts." She pointed at you accusingly, leaning over threateningly where you sat on the floor. You looked up at her and just shrugged. What could you do?

She rolled her eyes and waved you away. You took the cue that it was your turn. You didn't bother closing the door behind you. Some wash jeans from the back of your desk seemed clean enough. You sniffed them just in case. Not too funky, but definitely not fresh. They'd have to do. You chucked the hoodie, sprayed on some deodorant, and replaced it with a short-sleeve flannel. You looked into the mirror and checked your hair was okay before grabbing your backpack.

"Okay, let's go." You turned to see Regina staring at you incredulously.

"That's it? That's your morning routine?" Leaning against the doorway, you couldn't help but notice she looked fantastic. It was a real talent of hers, looking so good all the time.

"Usually, I'd eat breakfast." You herded her out of the door. "Do you need to get your things?" She probably didn't have any of her school stuff.

"No, I didn't unpack my purse before coming here." She said, checking said bag as she did. "I'll do my makeup in the car, drive sensibly."

"Psh, as if you need to tell me. You're the speed demon, from what I've heard."

"There's nothing wrong with the way I drive, grandma."

"Until you get your license revoked, speedster."

Needless to say, Regina was not impressed by your 2001 Corolla. And though she complained the whole way to school, she still sat in the front seat, doing her makeup, there was no heat behind her words. You arrived in the middle of the third period. Nobody was out and about, much to Regina's relief. You parted ways with a wiggle of her fingers and a finger salute from you. You sat in the car for a moment, just breathing and thinking.

She didn't say thank you, didn't say she had a good time, didn't even bother pretending she'd enjoyed your company. It seemed like a relief she was finally getting away from you. Was that how she felt?

Now that your friendship had progressed beyond small talk while you worked and pleasantries over dinner, being ignored at school felt a lot more hurtful.

It was sobering, how she could goss and laugh with you on your couch and then act as if being seen with you in public was social suicide.

What made it feel even worse was that it was true. If Regina was seen hanging around you, god knows what the piranhas that were the student body would do. It would end with either or both of you ostracized or worse. Regina could bend minds and shift opinions like it was a superpower, but even she had her limits.

You got out of the car, locked it, and ambled towards Spanish class.

Notes:

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[bri-cheeses]

Our Little Secret - Part 1

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 628 | Part one of three |

-

Evan shoved up onto his hands, the blankets of his bed sliding down his bare chest as he blinked in the morning sunlight.

“Barty?” he asked, confused as to why the other boy was already fully dressed and awake. And based on the hand he still had on the bathroom doorknob—the closing of which had undoubtedly caused Evan’s rude wake up call—he had been awake for a while now.

Barty looked at Evan, who didn’t miss the way his eyes dropped to his chest. With some obvious effort, Barty tore his gaze away to stare at the floor. His expression wiped itself blank, and from previous experiences Evan knew that he wouldn’t enjoy whatever Barty had to say next.

“What is it?” Evan said quietly, not wanting to ask but forcing himself to anyway. He knew that it would only get worse if he put it off.

“I think that last night shouldn’t have happened,” Barty said in an awful monotone. “We weren’t thinking straight and got carried away and made a mistake.”

Evan’s hands twisted violently in the sheets.

“A mistake,” he said carefully. He could hear the way his tone had become testy, but he couldn’t stop it from coming out like that.

Barty nodded. His hair was still mussed up from where Evan had run fingers through it the night before, and the strands fell over his eyes as his head moved jerkily.

“And I don’t think we should tell Reg or Pandora or anyone, y’know? Just kinda keep it, uh, on the down-low.”

And at Barty’s words, Evan felt a wicked sense of rightness fall into place. Of course he had finally gotten what he’d wanted for ages just to have it immediately ripped away and labeled as a dirty mistake that should be kept quiet.

“It can be our little secret,” Barty continued.

“Our little secret,” Evan deadpanned, and Barty nodded enthusiastically, seemingly oblivious to Evan’s complete and utter reluctance.

“Exactly.”

The blankets twisted up into a complicated heap as Evan pushed them away, shaking his head with a bitter laugh as he stood.

Barty shifted his weight nervously.

“Evs? What’s wrong?”

Evan laughed again at the pet name, and the fact that Barty was so stupidly oblivious that he couldn’t see what was right in front of his eyes. But he knew he’d say something he’d regret if he answered, so he kept his mouth shut as he shoved on some pants and a shirt.

Barty winced as Evan slammed the drawer to his dresser shut, still refusing to look at Barty as he moved throughout the room, picking up Barty’s clothes from where they had been scattered the previous night.

“Here,” he said when he was done, shoving the pile into Barty’s arms. “I think you must’ve misplaced these. But don’t worry, I’m sure it was just a mistake.”

Evan smiled, but it came out warped and wrong, more like a grimace than anything else. Barty searched his expression, looking for something that just about everyone but him could see.

“Rosie?” he asked quietly.

Evan’s response was immediate.

“Don’t call me that.”

A flicker of worry flashed across Barty’s face, but he adapted quickly. “Okay. What’s the matter, Evs?”

“Not that, either,” he snapped. Barty flinched again, and a sock fell from the pile of clothes he was holding. Barty didn’t seem to notice.

“What did I do?”

“What did you do.” Evan laughed, but it sounded hollow even to his ears. “Should I make you a list? Should I spell it out?”

Evan had spent to long being Barty’s best friend to not notice when his confusion took on the edge of frustration, his jaw tensing slightly before saying, “Can’t you just tell me plainly like any other normal person?”

-

(Part two is here)

[florsial]

Based on @deathnguts's post

"WEALTHY HEIR TO THE ROSIER FAMILY FOUND CHEATING?"

His lips open slightly to mumble over the words. Trying hard to suppress the edge of his mouth from twitching up. He traces the words on the edge of his phone as his eyes take in the photograph's details.

Evan and Barty leaving an expensive restaurant, he would know, he's been there, hand in hand. It's a little blurry but there was no mistaking the blond hair and expensive suit next to Barty's dyed hair and silver jewelry.

That reminds him, he has an idea.

A smile spreads across his face as he runs his fingers through dyed hair. The weight of silver jewelry against his bare neck, slowly warming from the body heat. Barty tucks his face deeper into Regulus' neck, shallow breaths ghosting on pale skin. He knows Barty isn't asleep, the way his hand rubs circles into Regulus' waist under his shirt. The slight turn of Barty's head in the crook of his neck. The smile that appears when he's comfortable.

His finger pinches the skin of Barty's shoulder, a teasing smile on his face, "Get up, love."

"Now why would I do that when I'm perfectly comfortable right here?"

"Because I'm taking you out, go get dressed, you idiot," Regulus replies, affection laced through his insult. He smacks Barty's shoulder, who gets up laughing. Pressing firm kisses to Regulus' lips and neck before heading to his room to get ready.

He hears the front door open and knows that Evan is finally freed from the judgment of the paparazzi. Getting up, he grabs his jacket on his way to the foyer and smiles upon seeing his husband. Dropping his keys on the table with an exhausted expression, his index finger and thumb roughly brushing against each other in a habit that Evan's had since forever. Regulus falls in love all over again when he takes in the sight and the glimmer of their gold wedding band.

"You're back," he hums, leaning against the entryway.

"And I'm assuming you've read the article?"

"Yes, you are a cruel man, Evan Rosier, cheating on your "wife" like this," Regulus lets out an exaggerated sigh, feeling the dramatics of his family more than ever it seems, "after everything I've done, you go around and disrespect and humiliate me. You cruel, cruel man. I ought to take our imaginary dog and move to back China to be with my family."

"I thought we had an imaginary cat?" Evan pouts, walking closer to Regulus to slip his arms around the other's waist, "I don't like dogs."

Regulus rolls his eyes fondly. Of course, leave it to Evan to be unserious in his dramatics. But whatever, he misses his husband so he'll let this slide, he thinks as he leans in and kisses Evan in a gentle kiss. It makes him feel like they are high schoolers again, hiding in empty classrooms, rooms in their families' giant estate, the corners of the library, etc etc. There is a sense of nostalgia that warms Regulus' chest and makes him pull Evan closer.

When they need to breathe, lest they become dizzy and weak, Regulus whispers, "I'm taking Barty out."

"Mhm," Evan presses his lips to Regulus' cheek, swaying slightly and forth, "Where?"

"That one restaurant we went to when we got married," he replies, "do you want any leftovers? Or anything we can get on our way?"

"Anything is fine," then his face scrunches up, "just not a lot of meat. They've been tasting weird for me lately."

"Okay."

They pull apart when they hear Barty coming. Who immediately flings himself onto Evan in a hug before pressing kisses all over his face. Loudly declaring that he misses his rose so desperately he would've died had he not seen Evan any later.

"I'm being serious!" He cries as Regulus and Evan fall into a fit of giggle.

"That's my brother-" Barty shuts him up with a kiss.

"I cannot be thinking of your brother right now, we are going on a date, Reg!" Barty says exasperatedly.

"Yeah yeah whatever," he teases, reaching for his keys and wallet, "now say your goodbyes, we're heading out now."

"Is it weird that I think he treats me like a toddler sometimes?" Barty whispers into Evan's shoulder.

"Probably," Evan hums, "I'll see you guys later."

He kisses Barty on the forehead, then both of his cheeks and finally on the lips in a gentle manner that Barty has always considered a rarity. Evan allows himself the pleasure of running his thumb over Barty's cheeks, following the curve of his face down to the swell of his lips. Which he gives another kiss to.

"Alright," Regulus says, pulling his attention away from the man in his arms, "I'm taking my boyfriend now, Rosier. Hands off."

Barty sneaks one last kiss, a quick one, and a grin before pulling away to follow Regulus out the door. He waves a goodbye while Regulus nods and the two are off. Leaving Evan standing by the door frame watching their car leave, a habit he'd picked up from Regulus whenever they were leaving each other's house back then. When the car is finally out of sight he heads back in, thinking of his latest book.

. . . .

"ARE THE ROSIER'S IN A OPEN RELATIONSHIP?"

Evan skims the article and bursts into a peal of loud laughter while Pandora looks amused.

[storiesforallfandoms]

may the best artist win ~ eminem

word count: 1754

request?: yes!

@thatonegirlthatlikesthings “Helllloooo I’ve been all in your page recently and I absolutely love your eminem stories I was wondering if I could request one with him and reader where she’s also a singer and they’re up for the same award and they make a bet between them where whoever wins gets to do whatever to other a little smut

I love you and your writing HAPPY HOLIDAYS 🤟🏽😭😭❤️❤️”

description: in which they both get nominated for the same award and decide to make it a game between them

pairing: eminem x female!reader

warnings: swearing, smut (oral, fem receiving, a little degrading but only like one mention)

masterlist (one, two)

Marshall had made it very clear throughout his career what his thoughts on the Grammy’s were. He vowed he would never return to the Grammy’s ceremony, even if he was nominated.

But then you were nominated for Song of the Year at the same time that he was. It was your first time being nominated for a big award show like that, so obviously you were excited. It excited you even more because Marshall was nominated for the same award and you liked the idea of potentially beating him after being nominated for the first time.

“There’s eight other nominees, honey, there’s no guarantee either of us will win,” he reminded you.

“You’re ruining the fun of my fantasy,” you teased. “I want to win my first Grammy after being nominated against my boyfriend. It would bring me so much satisfaction.”

Marshall raised an eyebrow at you. “Oh yeah? Want to place a bet on that?”

His question sparked your interest. “What kind of bet are we talking here?”

“If I win, you blow me in the car ride home.”

You were used to Marshall being very forward about anything sex wise, but it still took you by surprise sometimes. This was one of those times. For some reason, you didn’t expect his terms to the bet to be so outright sexual.

You crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what do I get if I win?”

“That’s up to you to decide.”

You took a moment to consider it. If Marshall was going dirty with his, then you wanted to go dirty with yours too. And you wanted it to be just as naughty as him wanting road head on the way home from the award show.

“Okay,” you said. “If I win, you go down on me in the bathroom at the arena.”

He seemed impressed with your decision. “Really? That one is a bit dangerous to try. Are you sure it’s what you want?”

“What, are you scared to do it because you know I’ll win?”

He took hold of your hand and gave it a shake. “You have a deal.”

The night of the Grammy’s came quicker than you expected. As usual, Marshall was wearing a pair of jeans, a t-shirt, a jacket and, of course, his signature Kangol hat. You decided to dress up a little, with a somewhat casual dress that came just to your knees. You weren’t concerned over dressing up too much since the two of you were skipping the red carpet anyways.

The worst part about shows like this was that the more important awards, like your Song of the Year, were left until the end of the show, meaning you had to sit through endless speeches and attempts at jokes from the hosts and presenters. If it weren’t for this bet, you’d probably ditch the rest of the show.

At least the performances were good.

When the presenters for Song of the Year came on stage, all thoughts of the bet left your mind and instead you were full of nerves. What if neither of your names were called? Or worse, what if they called your name and you embarrassed yourself while accepting the award? On live television, where everyone in the entire world would see it and it would live on the Internet for the rest of your life.

Noticing your nervousness, Marshall reached over and took your hand. You looked over at him and your nerves almost completely melted away.

You almost missed the announcer calling your name if it wasn’t for your song loudly playing from the speakers and everyone around you looking at you with joy and excitement. It took a minute for the news to register before the excitement set in. You stood from your seat and planted a kiss on Marshall’s lips before making your way to the stage. You were glad now you hadn’t wore a long dress and risked tripping on the way to the stage.

You accepted the award and managed to give a speech that actually sounded coherent through the combination of excitement and nerves you were feeling. You were sure the camera could pick up how much your hands were shaking, but you deserved it given the circumstances. You smiled one more time for the audience and the cameras as the music played you off the stage. You followed the presenters to the backstage area where other artists and producers were conversing. They cheered as you walked in, congratulating you on your win.

You were shocked when Marshall walked up to you, not even noticing that he had left your seats to come back stage. He immediately put a hand on the back of your head and pulled you into another, more passionate congratulatory kiss.

“Why aren’t you in your seat?” you asked, a little dumbly but you were too dazed by excitement and by the sudden kiss.

“I believe we had a bet,” he said. “One that you just won.”

From the minute the presentation for the award started, you had totally forgotten about the bet. You didn’t even have time to gloat to Marshall about you winning over him, nor did think to do so anyways.

But he was right. You did win the bet.

You politely excused yourselves and left the backstage area to find the nearest bathroom. You went in first to make sure no one else was there, and when the coast was clear you opened the door for Marshall to join you. The minute he stepped inside, his lips were on yours again. They were rough and full of lust and passion. Despite having lost the bet, it was like he was just as excited for this outcome as you were.

With your lips still pressed together, Marshall backed you towards the counter. He put his hands on your hips and hoisted you onto the counter, breaking the kiss for just a split second before attacking your lips again. His tongue pressed against your mouth and you opened to let him in. His tongue swirled around your mouth, connecting with yours a few times, before pulling away. You almost grabbed him and pulled him to come back, but stopped when he got down onto his knees in front of you.

You were very glad you wore a short dress.

He didn’t have to push your dress up much since it was already bunched up around your thighs. You had wore a small thong just in case you had won and this was the outcome, which was proving to be a very smart decision on your part.

You gasped as you felt two of his fingers run through your folds, already dripping from the make out session alone.

“You’re already so wet,” he noted. “Just from the idea of me going down on you? You dirty slut.”

You whimpered at the degrading name.

You watched as the bottom part of his face disappeared between your thighs. He eyes were looking up at you as he licked one like stripe from your entrance to your clit. You gasped and reached down to grip his hair. Realizing he still had his hat on, you knocked it to the floor so you could really get a good grip on him.

His hands gripped your thighs, no doubt leaving marks on the sensitive skin. His tongue made quick work of licking at your clit; quick, short strokes mixed with long, slower ones every now and then just to feel you quiver against him. Everyone knew that Marshall was good with his tongue, but you knew just how good he could really be with it.

The brushing of his beard against your inner thighs and your pussy caused a whole new wave of pleasure the run through you. You wanted to watch him while he worked - he looked so concentrated as he devoured your pussy - but your head kept lulling backwards as moans tumbled from your mouth. You knew you should be more quiet since anyone could walk past and hear you, but you weren’t really in the right mind to think about that right now. All you could think about was Marshall’s wet tongue against your swollen clit, and the coil that was beginning to tighten in your stomach.

You tried to push Marshall away. As much as you were enjoying this, you wanted him to fuck you so you could cum on his dick instead. But he resisted your attempts to move away and continued his work.

“M-Marshall, I-I’m gonna...I’m so close,” you stuttered out. “I want you t-to fuck me.”

He looked up at you again and you could tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t about to stop any time soon. He was determined to make you cum this way, and that determination was hot enough to set you over the edge. You threw your head back again and let out a cry in pleasure as you felt your orgasm wash over you. You held Marshall’s head in place as he continued to lick over your clit, lapping up your juices.

You rested your head against the mirror behind you and tried to catch your breath. You almost whined when Marshall finally pulled away from your sensitive core, but felt yourself becoming turned on again at the sight of him. His lips were glistening and his beard had some leftovers of your juices on it. He turned on the sink next to you and wet a paper towel in order to wipe his mouth and chin clean.

“I’m surprised you didn’t take up the opportunity to bend me over and fuck me in front of the mirror,” you commented. “I thought it would’ve been really hot to do that. I wanted to feel you inside of me when I came.”

“This was your prize for winning the bet,” he said. “I wanted you to benefit from it.”

You smiled and reached for him. He stood between your legs and gave you a more gentle kiss than the ones you had gotten earlier. You could still taste yourself on his lips, which just helped to turn you on even more once again.

“Well, now that my prize for the bet is over, why don’t you take me home and use me to your relief?” you suggested, looking up at him with the most seductive look you could manage while still coming down from your high.

Marshall smirked at you. “I like the way you think.”

[yearninqheart]

fine line

We’ll be a fine line, we’ll be alright.

pairing: regulus black x reader

word count: 2.6k

tags: gender-neutral!reader, non-magic/muggle au, exes to lovers—technically, some angst, some fluff, reader is mentioned to be sick, sort of implies player!reg, trust fund kid!reg, potter!reader (the occupation, not the surname)

warnings: Walburga Black gets her own warning (briefly mentioned), mentions of eating, not proofread sorry. lmk if i missed anything please!

notes: let’s not talk about how i dipped after posting two sandman fics and a (now cancelled) series master for c!w*lbur i never even posted chapter one for. but anyways, heyy how’ve y’all been?? <3 if you follow my main this isn’t even the fic i’ve been talking about, technically. i have a longer reg fic in the works that i hope to finish one day atp lmao. let me know what you think of this fic in the meantime though, i’m apologize for my rusty writing this is more so a writing practice for me but i did have this prompt in my notes for a while so, here she is!

"It took you long enough." Regulus said with a huff, hand still midair about to knock before you had swung the door open, which leads you to the situation you were now thrust into: your ex-boyfriend standing in your doorway with bags of groceries and takeout in hand.

"Regulus I'm really-" He barely lets you speak before easily letting himself in, setting the bags onto your countertops as he began preparing whatever it was he had bought. "Not in the mood right now..."

Seeing as he's already throwing ingredients into one of your pots, there would be no use in even trying to get him to leave so you shut the door behind you and decided to take a seat at the island, watching as he worked. However, the moment you even took a step forward he was setting down the knife and urging you to go to bed.

"You need to rest, I don't care how much sleep you say you got, you need more. Go. I'll leave some tea by your nightstand." Was all he said before guiding you back to your room and closing the door, barely letting you face him before the door closed, leaving you with too many thoughts when all your body wanted was to curl back into bed. And given that Regulus was seemingly going to be making dinner, there was really no reason to not listen to him. 

When you woke up again, who knows how many hours later, you found a cup of tea by your nightstand as promised, steam coming off the top of it as you took a sip. It briefly brought a small smile to your face before you remembered who exactly it was that put it there.

You felt much better as you got out of bed, taking a moment to stretch before walking towards the hallway where Regulus' voice was slightly muffled due to the soft music he had left on in the background. It was a song you had once loved and played whenever Regulus came over for dinner after work. It's been a while since he's last entered your home as your boyfriend, but he seems content to live in ignorance bliss whenever he comes over-oftentimes unannounced and/or invited —and the song just so happens to appear in the queue.

Your current relationship with Regulus was complicated. The two of you had broken up nearly five months ago, putting an end to a three year relationship that was going seemingly well. One would've thought such a sudden break would cause a rift between you two (it was what you were hoping for anyways) but it appears that Regulus doesn't seem to care. You're certain he's doing it out of spite, but another part of you hopes that there's more to his actions than simply 'spite". It wasn't easy choosing to end such a perfect relationship after all, much less your choice.

As you entered the kitchen, you were met with Regulus' back as he hunched over your countertop, focused on cutting the tomatoes just right even though he knows you hate them (he says it helps with the flavour and you agree, but that doesn't stop you from hating them). You watch as he finishes prepping the food, moving effortlessly around your kitchen to find the exact items he needs. Everything is still where they were when you kicked him out five months ago, and he knows you well enough that that'll never change.

"The salt's on the table."

Except for the salt and pepper, since you were too lazy to put it back after using them last night.

"Good Morning sunshine." He joked, enjoying the way your eyes rolled at the stupid nickname as you stepped towards him.

"Whatcha making?"

"Stew. It just needs to simmer a bit more so that the vegetables cook. Do you want to freshen up while I finish up here?"

You give him a nod, your body stiffening when the normalcy between you makes you forget that you're no longer dating and you catch yourself almost leaning forward to rest your chin on his shoulder. Too embarrassed to even look up at him, you quickly ran off to your bathroom before he could say another word.

By the time you were back, Regulus was just done setting up the dinner table. A part of you hated how you left his spot vacant even after all that's happened. You were in a new city starting anew, you didn’t need a second sea at your dinner table. However, the other part seemed to enjoy how naturally Regulus filled that spot, both the seat across from yours at the table and your home in general. Despite your numerous attempts of trying to push him out of your life he has simply refused and made it apparent he was staying in your life one way or another. Whether that be as your lover or a friend, he was there to stay.

"Dinners ready!" He hummed, catching your attention as he nodded towards your seat.

He was going to turn in the direction opposite of the table but upon noticing your silence, understood and added, "I'll join you in a sec, just going to put these dishes in the sink."

That seemed to be all you needed to hear as you took your seat at the small dinner table, waiting patiently as Regulus allowed the dishes to soak before wiping down the countertops then joining you at the table.

The meal, aside from simple requests of can you pass me some napkins and where's the salt, was silent. Music that you are now certain is playing from the playlist you made after he had moved into the apartment was still playing in the background and brought forth a wave of nostalgia you didn't think you'd get. The normalcy of it all was frustrating however, and you didn't mean to slam your spoon onto the table but he didn't even appear to be fazed by your sudden outburst. It was about time this happened. 

"Why do you keep doing this?" You asked, watching as he simply continues to finish his stew, refusing to look you in the eyes for once.

"Doing what?"

"This!" You gestured around you exaggeratedly. "Visiting me still, cooking for me, keeping me company. We broke up already, Regulus."

"I know." Came his response.

"So why do you keep showing up?" There was no malice to your question. No venom coated words or sharp tongue, only pure curiosity seeing as you've raked your mind for months wondering why he wasn't leaving you alone despite all your efforts.

For a moment, Regulus remained quiet. He didn't look up at you nor did he say a word, slowly finishing his stew and wiping his mouth before setting the plate aside to finally look at you.

"Why are you so persistent we distance ourselves?"

You almost scoffed at his question. For one, you two were now no longer dating, so why continue to see each-other as often as you did whilst dating. Secondly, neither of you will be able to properly heal and move on if the very person you've chosen to leave is still in your everyday life. And thirdly… his mother.

Walburga Black is the wife of a wealthy man in London. Wealthy enough that she was able to fund your entire move to Scotland where she had hoped would be far enough for Regulus to leave you alone and also powerful enough that she was able to even achieve that wish in the first place. The relocating part at least it seems. She had given you a generous job offering for a company she had connections to. It paid better than your job back home and allowed you some extra cash so that you wouldn’t be living paycheck to paycheck. All she asked of you was to ‘leave Regulus alone’. 

Obviously you had refused at first, but with a status like hers and the connections she had, it would not be worth going against her. A week after her initial offer, you had agreed to her deal with a sullen mood as she transferred an additional cheque to your account for ‘being so understanding’. You bit your tongue and simply thanked her before being escorted out of her office and to the car waiting outside. Regulus was currently on a trip to New York, so by the time he landed your cell would be deactivated and your apartment would be bare, leaving behind no traces of you or your relationship for him to hold. 

“This will be better for him.” Walburga had told you. “If there’s no traces of you ever being there, it’ll be easier for him to move on. We don’t need him clinging onto the past now do we?” 

You had agreed, because what else were you to do? 

Even you had assumed Regulus would stay in London. He had everything there, why throw it all away? But it appears that both you and his mother underestimated his dedication–although it is what continues to confuse you every time you see his face. 

"Why did you come all the way here?" Your voice was so soft he almost had to strain to hear you. "You had everything back home, why did you abandon it all just to come here? Don’t you miss your old lifestyle?"

The way he was looking at you made you feel like the answer was blatantly obvious. His brows were furrowed as he tilted his head sideways, appearing to be carefully choosing his next words before sitting up on his chair, letting his elbows rest on the table as the next song started to play from the speaker.

"I had everything back in London because I had you. What good is anything back there if you're suddenly on a train heading north?"

There it was, the confirmation you had both been dreading and waiting to hear since you stepped foot into your new apartment.

"But your mother-"

"Bought us a nice apartment to live in, I know. Such a sweet parting gift don't you think?"

You could almost laugh, had it not been for how hard your heart was pounding at the confirmation you had been waiting to hear for so long. Ironic how despite practicing how you would react when the time came you were now rendered frozen as you tried to come to terms with the fact that it finally happened.

"Regulus," You started but he cut you off by calling your name and for the first time in five months, he looked just like your Reg. He looked at you as if it hasn't been the most excruciating five months for you both, with such a tender and sweet expression you could almost melt.

You had expected the worst. Had practiced your defences for when the fight would occur but it never had the chance to bloom. Instead of getting upset, Regulus simply placed your hands in his, a thumb smoothing over the tops of your knuckles before speaking.

"Perhaps I did have everything," He began. "But I don't know why you subconsciously view me as the kind to even care if I inherit the company or not. They could give it all to the intern for all I care and I'd let them. They can take my name off their will, take back my cards and properties too and it wouldn’t even matter to me."

He saw you open your mouth to speak and cut you off before a sound could even pass your lips.

"I love you." He reminded you for the first time in five months. "I love you, even if it means I am no longer an heir to a multimillion company and my family hates me. Truly I don't care for them if the answer has always been you."

It was almost deafening how hard your heart was pounding, threatening to burst out of your chest any second now if you didn't calm down but how could you possibly do that? How could you even think to calm down when he’s just confessed his love for you at the expense of everything he’s ever known and had. 

Regulus did not say anything further, instead letting you take it all in as he hummed softly along to music while his thumb continued to run over the ridges of your knuckles.

After a moment, he brought your hands towards his face and pressed a kiss to it before clasping his other hand around your own. "I thought I was pretty forward to everyone about my affections towards you, was I not clear enough?" He mumbled quietly.

He was. Upon his first time meeting you, there was a visible shift in his attitude which all of his friends had quickly noticed. He'd decline offers of going out in favour for a quiet dinner at his penthouse with you, cancel on clubbing because you wanted to explore the waterfront when you couldn't sleep at night, he even took up pottery classes since you worked at a studio nearby his apartment and it would mean Regulus could be in your presence for longer, even if he would be bailing on a flight to Paris that his friends had invited him to.

(He thought they would get the hint that he no longer cared for partying but instead began inviting you to come along as well after he introduced you to them.

Regulus had quickly shut them down, though that didn't stop Mary from giving you her number so that you could make plans later.)

All to say that not once since you met him, did Regulus make it unknown or unclear that he was utterly in-love with you. So why did you doubt him when his mother sent you away?

His mother was the simple answer. But as he encouraged you to elaborate, Walburga turned out to only play a fraction of that fear. It was the thought of ripping him from the lifestyle he knew and was accustomed to, from the title and norms he's been raised to adhere to. Sure Walburga was also terrifying, but more so was the thought that Regulus would be throwing away all he ever knew just because of a little crush. 

Business meetings since he was a child, attending galas dressed to the nines with a flock of eligible girls hanging off his arm, fancy dinner parties in different cities every night–if not the most exclusive in the city for when he decides to stay home–was nowhere close to your everyday life. In all honesty, your paths were probably never meant to cross but somehow managed to intertwine at just the right moment, for the love of your life to be here with you now. Now you understand however, that despite the differences in your upbringing and previous lifestyle, this is what he now wants–a simple, easy lifestyle with his lover by his side. 

"I'm sorry." You apologized with a sigh, finally feeling the defeat of the act you've put up since Walburga got into your head about "tarnishing his image".

"Why are you apologizing, love?" A hand came up to hold your cheek, while the other drew comforting circles on top of your own.

"For listening to your mother?" You offered with a short laugh although it didn't quite reach your eyes. It never did whenever his mother was the topic. He couldn't blame you, but that was now in the past.

"Forget her, we'll be alright now."

taglist, lmk if you want to be added/removed! @retvenkos @with-love-anu @screennamealreadyused @princekooks @jackys-stuff-blog