#but still made sure to leave “hair over his ears” aka wings longer

[jula483]

giggling and kicking my feet!!!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

All in a Day’s Work!

A gift for my very talented and very cute friend, Kana (aka @shimmeryspark​)! ;u;

To clarify, the “Shrimp” mentioned in this piece is not MC/Yuu! “Shrimp” is Kana’s Octavinelle student OC! (I recommend checking out the character sheet after reading, since the artwork gives away the twist ending!)

Imagine this...

The evening cast its somber net over Night Raven College, throwing its buildings into darkness. What few lights remained glowed faintly amidst the creeping shadows—like lost souls in the depths of the sea. A chilling breeze swept by, kicking up a torrent of leaves. 

Beckoning to him.

Octa A shivered, wrapping his jacket around himself even tighter, as he stepped out into the waiting night. With each step that he took, the trash bag at his side seemed to grow heavier and heavier. The shadows themselves seemed to cling to it, adding the weight of lost souls past.

A pink blur surged ahead, humming a jaunty tune all the while. The spring to his step set his fluffy hair and double ahoge bouncing excitedly.

Octa A stared warily after his coworker. Despite carrying a broom in one hand and a trash bag in the other, the pink-haired boy’s mobility was not deterred.

“C’mon, Kon-kun!!” Shrimp chirped over his shoulder. “The trash won’t take itself out, you know!”

“R-Right…”

Octa A picked up his pace to meet Shrimp’s. Their footsteps, and their bags, rose and fell in tandem.

Night came down upon the pair, smothering them. The howl of a distant wind grazed their ears—that, and the frantic flaps of an owl, plunging into the moonlight.

“I-I, um… I’m glad I have trash duty with you today,” Octa A piped up, his small voice filling in the quiet. “I-It’s scary to do my chores with Jade-senpai or Floyd-senpai.”

“Oh, they’re not so bad, silly!” Shrimp giggled, casually twirling the handle of his broom. “Jade lets me hang out in his terrariums, and Floyd shares his candies with me.”

“Well… th-that is nice of them, but… I’d hate to bump into them in the middle of the night.” The thought of their haunting golden eyes peering out from a curtain of jet black… it sent Octa A’s weak stomach into a series of somersaults. 

“Ahaha, really? I always feel safe with them around~” Shrimp’s smile was a beam of light in the dark. “Like earlier today! They helped us out with those mean customers.”

“D-Don’t remind me…” Octa A winced as the memory resurfaced.

When closing time had rolled around, a particularly rowdy group of customers refused to clear out. There had been shouting, cussing, threats made—Octa A on the verge of tears—until Shrimp had fetched the Leeches. Jade, with a composed smile, and Floyd, with an irritated expression.

“Gentlemen, let us discuss this dilemma outside. Perhaps my brother and I can assist you with finding a solution that is agreeable for both of our parties.”

The fools had followed the twins—and as soon as the door shut behind them, a cacophony of horrific sounds rang out. Glass smashing, bones snapping, guttural shouts and sobs. And above it all, Floyd’s wild laughter, with the occasional soft chuckle from Jade breaking through in brief moments of silence.

The twins had returned not long after without so much as a speck of blood on their beings.

But Octa A hadn’t seen those poor, unfortunate customers again since. And he didn’t dare to ask what had become of them.

The mob student vigorously shook his head. “P-People that ask too many questions of Jade-senpai and Floyd-senpai end up… disappearing. O-Or tricked into making a bad deal with the dorm leader. I-I… I don’t like tha—w-whoa!!”

Shrimp leapt in front of Octa A, causing him to skid to a halt. Their gazes locked, pink orbs against maroon ones.

“... You know what, Kon-kun?” Shrimp’s expression was unreadable, each word slow and meticulously placed.

Octa A stared back at his coworker—into the wide, sparkling galaxy of Shrimp’s eyes. All hope and starlight, painted in. a rosy hue.

And yet… the longer Octa A looked, the more and more that galaxy seemed to be swallowed up by the pupils. In the dim lighting, the black holes dilated, grew, expanded… and drowned out the stars.

A bead of sweat formed on Octa A’s crown. His throat, dry.

Then Shrimp brightened and belted out a laugh. “You worry waaay too much!”

“H-Huh?”

“All that stress isn’t good for your health!”

“A-Ah… You’re right about that. M-My doctor says I need to better manage my stress, since it gives me… stomach problems.” 

“Hey, hey—here’s an idea!” Shrimp leaned a bit closer, whispering into Octa A’s ear. “Head home early for the day, and get some rest! I can take care of your trash duties for you.”

“Wh-Whaaaat?!” Octa A immediately startled. “ I… I can’t!! Jade-senpai and Floyd-senpai would kill me!! Th-The dorm leader would cut my pay… I’ll have to live off of cup ramen for the rest of the semester!!”

“It’ll be our little s-e-c-r-e-t! I wouldn’t want my good ol’ buddy ol’ pal to burn out~”

“I… I don’t know...”

Octa A glanced down at his trash bag. Before he could open his mouth to protest once more, Shrimp yanked the garbage out of his hands.

“I got this!! Really! I’m tougher than I look!!”

“... Well… i-if you say so.” The mob student awkwardly scratched the back of his head. “I-It’s really nice of you to help me out with this. D-Don’t stress yourself out too much either, Shrimp-san.”

“Hehe. I’ll do my best!!” He pat Octa A on the back and flashed a reassuring grin. “Go, go! Get some Zs!”

“O-Okay. Good night…”

“Good niiight!!”

Shrimp waved and waved at his coworker’s shrinking figure, until, at last, Octa A was long gone.

The pink-haired boy stood—waiting, listening, for creatures hidden in the night. For the beating of wings, a midnight hoot. For the scuttle of nocturnal beings, racing across the path. For incriminating footsteps in the dark.

When Shrimp was certain he was alone, he dug the handle of his broom into his trash bag, then Octa A’s. 

“Heeey~ Are you guys still conscious in there?

Weak groans and whimpers crawled out.

“Wakey, wakey, eggs and shrimpy!!”

Shrimp tore open the bags in turn, revealing a few trembling students curled into fetal positions. Some bruised, others with bits of dried blood blossoming on their lower lips or from their nostrils. Upon spotting Shrimp in his Octavinelle uniform, the mob students yelped and retreated further into the bags—as though that would offer some sort of protection.

Hehe. How silly.

With deft hands, Shrimp unceremoniously dumped the injured students onto the cold pavement. They landed—on their backs, on their sides, on their faces—with harsh impacts. Their surroundings spun, the moon, the stars, and the sky pooling into a singular color.

Some parts darkness, some parts light.

“I sure hope you bad boys learned your lesson!” Shrimp warbled sunnily, wagging a finger at the disoriented mob students. “You’d better play nice next time, or else you’ll really be swimming with the fishies!”

His words were playful and as light as air, but something in his large eyes and smile seemed… off. The shadows framed his face, his eyes appearing beady and sinister from behind the evening veil. And the curve to his lips… crooked, distorting and warping his cheer.

“Wh-Who are you people…” One of the mobs—from Savanaclaw—managed to choke out. “W-What are you…?!”

“We’re Octavinelle! Founded on the compassion of the Sea Witch herself!!” Shrimp tapped a finger against his chin and giggled. “And me? I’m just the busboy~ It’s my job to clean up after messes. Speaking of which…”

“Time to tidy up!”  Brandishing his beloved broom, Shrimp spun around on his heel and began feverently sweeping up the path.

“Gosh, you folks make so much trouble for me…!! I had to clean up the crime scene and now this drop off spot, too,” Shrimp sighed, though the lilt remained in his voice. “Busy, busy…”

The Savanaclaw mob gritted his teeth. Though his body ached and screeched in pain with every slight movement, the anger boiling in his blood propelled him to move. He stumbled onto shaky legs, glaring intensely at Shrimp’s back.

“You… bastard..!!”

He lunged, claws out, for his prey.

“Hup!!” 

Shrimp whipped around, reacting just in time. He rammed the handle of his broom right into the mob’s chest—-and the wind sailed right out of him.

The Savanaclaw student went flying, landing atop another fallen ruffian. They collectively groaned, pain reverberating through their bodies.

Shrimp leaned his broom in the crook of his arm and clapped his hands together—once, twice—dusting off the scum that he had just dealt with.

“Grimey guys like you need to wash up before they try to pull any funny business!” he warned, smacking the mob student on the head with the broom’s bristles.

“D-Damn it…”

His curse went unheard, for Shrimp had set to taping his lips together and humming a tune.

“Hmm hmm hm~”

The Octavinelle student turned away and set back to dusting off the ground. A sweep here, a brush there… Shrimp worked his way down the path, his small figure retreating into the night.

The last thing the Savanaclaw mob heard before he blacked out...

“All in a day’s work!”

[peppersonironi]

Batfam Whumptober Day Six

{Read on Ao3}

No.6: “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please” 

Summary: A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself. 

Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.

AKA- Damian dreams about his time in the League and is comforted by the only brother awake at the unholy hour: Tim.

A/N: I have a thing or Tim & Dami hurt/comfort. I'm not sorry. They're just too cute!

TW: child abuse (both physical and emotional), whipping (I'm not sure if this is graphic or not, I have warnings for both).

*****

“You are an utter disappointment, Ibn al Xu'ffasch.”

Damian looked down at his feet. The test the eight year old had just completed had not gone as smoothly as his Grandfather had hoped, so now the boy had been brought forward for reprimanding.

“An Al Ghul does not accept weakness, an Al Ghul completes whatever task is set before them promptly and without error,” Ra’s Al Ghul continued, “And yet you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your adversaries. No matter how many stand in your way, you should have succeeded. CUt down whoever stands in your way to greatness.”

“I understand, Grandfather.” Damian said quietly at the completion of the lecture. He lifted his head to look at Ra’s’ reaction.

“No,” Ra’s said, with steely confidence. “I do not think you do.” He turned his back on his grandson. “To truly understand your defeat, you must be aware of the consequences. I believe seventy-five lashes will do.”

Damian’s eyes widened ever so slightly. It was expected, of course, but seventy-five? He’d never had that many before, his mother would always step in before that happened. But she was in Paris now, there was no one to save him.

Ra’s signalled a flock of League initiates, and Damian was instantly swarmed. The darkly clothed bodies pulled him down to his hands and knees, stripped him of his shirt, and held him steady. There was a moment of stillness, and Damian found himself struggling to keep from tensing his muscles. Then the whip made it’s first landing.

His back screamed in pain, the sharp crack leaving a line of burning agony down his spine. It was as if his back had been split in two, with a canyon of ruined flesh between the two.

He let out a gasp of pain, but didn’t allow himself to produce any more weak noises. He didn’t have much time, however, as the whip returned with a vengeance, a few centimeters to the right of its first passing. This one hurt just as much as the first, though Damian was more prepared for the sensations.

The whip dropped viciously again and again and again. He felt the blood begin to slowly drip down the wounds and onto the sparse sections of unruined skin, down further till it dripped on the backs of his bare feet.

Then, the whip’s master changed tactics. Damian let out a surprised scream as the whip landed on an already existing slash. The pain cut deeper than before, and was twice as painful.

“Hmm.” Ra’s said, sounding uninterested. “For that, twenty more.”

Damian whimpered silently, hoping that the whipper hadn’t meant to hit the same place, and it wouldn’t happen again.

It did.

The whip repeated the same tactic, choosing a lighter slash this time, driving the wound deeper than before. His whole back felt like it was on fire, the burning intense and blanketing.

A few more lashes and they had made it to fifty.

It was on the fifty-first that the whip first hit bone.

Damian cringed harshly and was brought down to his elbows. The whip didn’t let up. A few more blows and he felt a spot on the bottom right section of his back peel away. If he could see it, he would have sworn that pearly white gleamed out of the red.

No more , he thought desperately. He hadn’t taken much more than this before, the torture was usually switched to some other technique.

But no one heard any of his silent please - and even if they had, his Grandfather would have just increased the number of lashings. The whip kept dropping with a steady rhythm of pain. The cracks came one after another. The blows came.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again .

He wanted so badly to beg. Beg for the pain to stop. Beg for his Grandfather’s forgiveness. Beg or his mother, who so rarely showed the affection he craved.

But he didn’t.

Damian bit his tongue as the whip kept coming. He tasted the blood in his mouth soon enough, and tried to use the metallic tang to ground himself. It didn’t work. With each crack he was brought right back to pain that his world had become, there was no calming space in his mind he could retreat to.

It was at the eightieth strike that he finally broke.

“Stop, please.” he cried out, tears breaking through his once firm resolve.

His Grandfather turned back to him, and Damian knew with all his heart that he was going to regret those words.

*****

Tim sighed down at the empty coffee mug in his hand. He’d been working on a case for the past few hours, and coffee had been his one true love for the majority of the time. But now his love was gone.

Time for a refill.

Tim stood up from his nest of papers atop his bed and grabbed his three different mugs. Might as well get stocked up.

He walked out of his door, closing it quietly - if Bruce caught him, he’d be sent to bed immediately, and this case needed solving - and slid down the long corridor that the bedrooms took up. It was quiet - most people were out of town or staying at their own places. Tim paused at the doors whose occupants were present. Bruce, who was at the end of the hall, was still; he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Or he was at Selina’s. Duke’s room was quiet, he’d been asleep for longer, pros of having a so-called ‘normal sleep schedule.’

Tim continued down till he reached the hall connecting the current wing of the house. As he walked past Damian’s door, however, he froze.

A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself.

Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.

He rushed forward as quietly as he could, and eased himself onto the bed. Tim reached out his hand and, praying that he wouldn’t get stabbed, rustled Damian’s shoulder.

He wasn’t attacked.

Instead, Damian scrambled back, his eyes wide and unseeing. Tim’s heart broke as he saw his brother in such a state. Whatever he was seeing had to be horrible for him to flee rather than fight.

“Dami, it’s me,” Tim called quietly. He wanted to reach out and hug the little brat - crap, what had Dick done to him? - but wouldn’t dare for fear of startling him again.

Damian blinked slowly, still shivering. “Timothy?” He asked, tucking his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah, Dami,” Tim said, leaning slightly closer. “I came in to check on you. Are you alright?”

He clearly was not alright, but Tim knew his brother was a prideful little chicken nugget, and wouldn’t dare admit he’d been crying.

But then the kid surprised him.

Damian launched forward and into Tim’s arms, wrapping around his torso and tucking his tear-stained face into his chest.

“I’m in the manor?” he asked timidly.

Tim blinked for a moment. “Yeah, we’re in your room. You’re safe here.”

He slowly wrapped his arms around Damian, but froze when the boy flinched. Tim searched his mind for what he’d done wrong, before remembering the sight he’d seen just minutes before.

Damian clawing at his back.

Tim eased his arms around again, pulling the younger boy into his lap, while trying to avoid his back.

“You’re okay, Damian.” Tim whispered when Damian began to tremble again. “We’re home.”

“Grandfather …” Damian began and Tim had to resist the urge to stiffen. Of course he was having nightmares about Ra’s, the b*astard still had his hold on the kid, despite not seeing him for four years now.

“Shh,” Tim said, stroking Damian’s hair, “he’s not here. You’re safe.”

“But I failed,” Damian choked out, the tears returning.

Tim scooched further onto the bed, grabbing some blankets from where they’d been haphazardly thrown off in the child’s panic.

“You don’t need to be perfect anymore, Damian.” Tim spoke softly as he readjusted himself and began to wrap his brother in a cocoon as best as he could with him still wrapped around Tim. They’d found out a while back that the pressure calmed boy significantly. “I know it’s not fair what happened to you. What Ra’s did. But it’s over. You’re home.”

Damon sniffled and pressed harder into Tim’s chest.

“Come on,” he whispered, “get it out. It’s alright to cry.”

He wasn’t sure if the small Wayne believed him, but Tim kept whispering into his ear. He wished he could tell his brother that none of it was real, that he would be safe forever, and nothing could ever hurt him again. But that wasn’t their lie. And Tim didn’t want to lie.

So instead he told his brother what he knew was true. That Ra’s was gone. That the League didn’t have him anymore. That right here, right now, Tim wasn’t going to let anything in. That Damian could sleep, that he was safe here in the manor. In his room. In Tim’s arms.

Damian gradually relaxed, the tense muscles loosening. He didn’t stop holding onto Tim, but the older boy didn’t complain. It was nice, honestly.

“Shhh,” Tim said when the tears had calmed down to slow hiccups. He stroked his brother’s dark hair, before pressing a kiss into it.

A few minutes later, and even the hiccups subsided. Damian sighed and nuzzled Tim’s now soaked shirt. He chuckled softly, the kid could be such a cat sometimes. Selina would be proud.

Tim slowly shifted till they were both laying down on the bed.He pulled the rest of the blankets up and settled underneath them. Work could wait, he wouldn’t dare leave Damian now.

After a while, the smallest bat’s breathing evened out, and Tim let loose a sigh of relief. Damian was asleep.

Tim let himself relax only then, now that he was sure Damian could get some rest. He didn’t move, finding the cuddling quite comfortable. He just closed his eyes, pushing thoughts of cases and deadlines from his mind.

Damian was the most important. He wasn’t going to worry about anything other than his brother.

Tim sighed contentedly. He spoke once more, before sleep overtook him. Using the arabic word for brother that Damian strictly regulated the use of - for both himself and others. Tim didn’t learn arabic - which regretted now that it was his youngest brother’s first language - but he’d picked up a few small words here and there, which Damian seemed to find comforting.

Tim kissed his brother’s forehead one last time.

“Goodnight, Ahki.”

Tagging: @starrystories2

[chasseurdeloup-retired]

Pour Some Salt on Me || Matty and Kaden

TIMING: Present LOCATION: Soul on the Rocks PARTIES: @likeamattoutofhell and @chasseurdeloup SUMMARY: Matty meets Kaden at the bar and deals with some of his baggage. AKA: Did someone order a Margarita? Extra salty?

It wasn’t often that Kaden spent a free night at a bar that wasn’t the Silver Bullet but he was always up for something new and different. Plus, for all he knew, he could be walking into a prime opportunity for hunting. Not to mention, he could always use a few more drinks to deal with everything that had happened in the past week. Mimes. Wings. Banshees. Werewolves. It was too much. He could use a normal night. The bar was loud. Very loud. It was going to take a lot for him to concentrate on any conversation and not get overwhelmed. He took a deep breath. It’d be fine, as long as he was prepared. He saw a guy at the bar, pretty sure on the end he was supposed to meet him. “You Matty?” he asked. “Kaden. Aka that guy whose dog found a fucking head the other week.” He almost added ‘not a mime-fucker’ but then he thought better of reminding anyone of that before needed. “How’s it going?

So. This had been a day, hadn’t it? Or, well. A night. But, at least some shit didn’t change. Soul on the Rocks was still standing, and nobody gave a crap how you came. Which was good, given that Matty looked a little like a half-drowned poodle, his hair still damp and curling, crazily, from his make-do shower at the pool. Whatever it took. Bit into his budget a little - man, everything cost more, these days - but he was two rounds into the special, and had enough left over for a few more. Solid. He’d just raised a hand for another when some… guy, sleek, sharp-faced, dropped onto the stool next-door. Kaden? Right. Maybe into mimes? According to the internet, but. Couldn’t believe everything you read, duh. “Yeah, that’s - yeah.” The vibes, on this poor bastard. “It’s… going, alright.” Why not shoot the shit? There was plenty of it. “Pipes in my place are, uh. Under reconstruction? Got real messed up last week, full of something fucked, I don’t know. At least the neighbors aren’t, you know, weirder than usual.” Which had been saying something, alright. But he’d draw a line, sure, at suddenly taking up miming. At other people. In the hallway. Matty shrugged, vaguely. “Same shit, different day, around here. How about you, man? What’s up?”

Kaden raised a brow and gave the guy a one over. “I can see that.” The guy looked rough, alright. Soaked and a little bedraggled. “Bad pipes, huh? What happened? Do you live anywhere near the funeral home by chance?” He almost asked if it was vampires or necrophages since that always seemed to be the cause of leaky pipes in buildings. Occasionally pixies. Usually dead things. But he thought better of it. That joke only landed in a hunter bar, really. He waved down the bartender and ordered a beer, wasn’t sure he trusted the liquor to be drinkable let alone mid shelf. “I’m alright. Less severed heads in my life so that’s been good.” A lot more wings and banshees and death but it was fine. He was fine. Everything was fine. He gulped down a sizable portion of his drink. “I mean, yeah. It’s been a fucking week. Got attacked by the wo-- an animal in the woods the other night. Nearly fucking died. So I’m sure yours is going better than that. Least I hope so.”

Funeral home? Matty frowned, faintly, not sure what that was supposed to mean. “Don’t think so?” Hopefully that was a no. Not somewhere he needed, or wanted, to hang around. With actual corpses. “Just some shithole, you know what it’s like.” Fuck, it was a shame you couldn’t smoke in bars anymore. Still had some of that good weed, from Margot, kicking around. And he was itching for something, anything. Matty gave the bartender a seriously grateful nod as the next Moscow mule landed, shaking off a sudden, cold shiver. A bad one. God, he’d have to get ahold of Felix. Soon.

But. A couple drinks wouldn’t hurt, and the company probably wouldn’t. Jury was out, as of yet.

“Solid.” Less body parts flying around in general, the better, yeah? Elbow up on the scratched-to-shit counter, he took a long, needsome drink, hearing Kaden out. The wo-what? His head tilted, there, doing some wo-wondering. Not too much. His week. Where to start? With the waiting to find out if a couple super scary motherfuckers were going to duke it out to the death over at Hanging Rock, come the weekend? Hanging around a psychotic old-ass leech with fancy tastes? Getting thrown out of a tree by a bloodsucking... monkey, with iron teeth, or some shit? No, thanks. “Oh, totally.” Matty tossed off a tired sorta smile, and raised his glass. “Here’s to - death-defying, huh? Life goes on.” Close enough. “The hell were you doing in the woods, anyway? Nothing but crazy and mosquitoes out there, seriously…”

Kaden nodded at his current companion’s words. “Ah, not related to that then. Nevermind. But yeah, I do know how that goes. Surprised I don’t live in a complete dump here, but I got paid a little more than I’m used to when I took the job at Animal Control.” Out of the sheer desperation they had to fill the position. He felt a chill run through him before taking another sip of his beer. Strange, was the door open or something? He looked back but that was stuoid, it wasn't even that cold out anymore. Odd. Must have imagined it. Or the beer was just really cold.

“To deth-defying.” Kaden raised his glass in a toast and gave a small nod. And a wince as he lifted his arm. Side still hurt, he almost forgot, despite toasting his near death. “I was camping. Didn’t want to stay in my apartment any longer.” He gave a shrug. The details weren’t ones he was ready to dig up so soon. Or share in a bar. At least not this sober. “I’m also in animal control so I’m there a lot anyway. Got attacked by an animal.” Explaining what it was seemed unnecessary. Most people accepted “animal” right off the bat, anyway. “You ever had any near death experiences?

Lauren Langley couldn’t stand to watch this any more, this fraternizing with supernaturals that her son kept indulging in. He'd made his choice to turn away from his duty. He didn’t even do a basic check on this man to see the glaringly obvious. The man at the bar was obviously undead. Kaden should have been able to listen and hear the hollow emptiness where his heart should be beating. And yet he sat there, toasting, making small talk. Disgusting. Disgraceful. She could no longer contain the anger raging inside of her. She pushed out her power, let her anger extend outwards and the lights started to flicker, the sound cutting in and out, as she floated towards the man in question, standing between him and her son, glaring daggers at him that she knew he could see, the blood sucking filth that he was.

Animal Control. Okay, then. Matty’s eyebrows slid upwards, but, hey. Whatever paid the bills. Not like he could talk. “Well, hey. Nice.” Did he want to know about… dogcatching, or whatever this guy got up to? Not exactly, but - he’d always been curious. “Seems like a rough gig. Especially in this town, fuck...” Christ knew what kinda freaky shit Kaden had to deal with, on top of bears, and cougars, and rabid raccoons. Had to feel a little sorry for him, yeah?

Cheers, anyway. To camping, too, sure. Whatever the dude was into. “Cool, yeah. I get that, man. Space. Nice thing to have.” Matty drank. And twitched, as the electricity fritzed. Weird. He blinked, throwing an uncertain glance over the rest of the Rocks, watching as the jukebox glimmered in and out, the static sneering into his too-sharp ears. Near death. With a shook-out laugh, Matty turned back to try and field that one  - only to find some lady. Some ghost lady, all silvery; more substantial than most, though. Nobody he knew. Right? No. He was pretty sure. But that stare. The grin was staggering away from him, on its last legs.  “A… a couple…” Leaning back on his stool, Matty cleared his throat. Took another drink. “Animals, yeah.” He was stumbling, quailing under those eyes. Maybe they weren’t, you know, familiar, but. If looks could murder. Violently. “Maybe we oughta take this outside?” Matty winced, suddenly, sliding to his feet. Ghosts got stuck to places, didn’t they? “Just, seems we’ve got some… fucky wiring, in here. I mean, this joint’s probably a total fire-trap…”

Kaden froze, glass at his lips, as the electricity cut in and out. For half a second he wondered if this was just a result of shoddy wiring. This bar wasn’t exactly high end or upscale. But the shocked looks and startled reactions from everyone around him gave him the feeling this wasn’t a typical occurrence. Putain. He really wanted a night off from the supernatural. Didn’t look like he was going to get it. It seemed like his present drinking buddy was looking through him or around him. Hard to say for sure, but it didn’t seem like his eyes were meeting his. Hmm, maybe his near death experiences were a hell of a lot worse than Kaden’s. Shit, might have hit a nerve. “You alright?” he asked, brow raised as the guy started to freak out. “Yeah, I noticed.” Kaden glanced around the place, didn’t see anything else strange, but there was a bit of a cold spot as he stood to follow. “I’m guessing this isn’t normal for here. Got any better suggestions?” Bullet was out so he supposed it was another night at Dell’s. He shrugged as they headed outside, could be worse.

He wasn’t going to get away so easily. Lauren knew he saw her; he must know her feelings as well. Or at least sensed them. And she hadn’t even spoken yet. “Leaving so soon, vampire?” she asked, smirk on her face. “I wasn’t finished here.” Her voice was laced with venom, but it was still and even all the same, cold and poisonous at the same time. Once again, she pulled into her anger and used it to send the unused glasses from the bar exploding out in every direction, but most of the glasses aimed at the vampire. Unfortunately, her son, too. But he could tolerate the pain. And maybe it would give him a hint to either leave this loathsome creature or, better yet, kill it. She disappeared a moment and then flashed back in front of the vampire, spectral face inches from his. “My son may not put a stake through your heart. He’s gone soft, you see, but I sure will. Better yet, I’ll make sure he does.”  

“Me? I’m good, yeah, just...” Haunted. “Honestly, I…” Matty trailed off, a shudder creeping down the back of his neck, all the way. That kind, he realized, now. He’d met his fair share of ghosts. Or, well, his unfair share, depending on how you looked at it. This one was - well, bad fuckin’ vibes, all over, was what she was. Why the hell was the vampire thing her problem? Matty tried to pin his attention down to Kaden, hurriedly tugging his ratty denim jacket on. They’d just fuck off, and he’d try the Rocks again… in a week. Or two. A month from now. Oh, that would blow.

Not as hard as the fuckin’ rain of glass that shattered over them. Matty had heard them rattling just in time to turn, barely soon enough to drop, shoving Kaden by the shoulder, turning his back into a storm of smashing tumblers and sharp edges. Ears ringing, hands shaking - bleeding, somewhere, he could smell it already - Matty gasped out of it, and pushed away across the sticky, glittering floor as the ghost gathered in front of him, face to face. Son? His eyes ticked to Kaden, quick. Back. Yeah, around the eyes, he could see it. Just his fuckin’ luck. Getting in the middle of some kinda family drama.

Wait. Wait, wait. Gone soft? Too soft for staking. Shit. Slayer family drama? Just his fuckin’ luck.

“Listen, I don’t - I don’t know you, or him, or… what your problem is, I...” What he did know, was salt. Salt for ghosts. How, specifically, not so sure. But the salt would be behind the bar - he’d downed enough tequila here to know. Behind the bar, where he was going, fast.

“Shit!” Kaden shouted as he saw the glasses rumble. He raised his hands to shield his head and found himself shoved down out of the way of the oncoming onslaught of glass. White hot pain from his side flashed through him as he twisted and ducked. After the deafening crashes of glass came the screams as patrons started bolting for any exit they could find. Couldn’t blame them. As Kaden stood up straight, his brow furrowed, another wince of a pain, and yeah that was definitely blood dripping along his hands. Fuck. “You o--” He started to ask his drinking buddy as he tried to evaluate the extent of his wounds. Minimal, thankfully. But his words cut short as the other man started speaking to the air.  

“Who are you talking to?” Kaden asked, brows furrowed, and stomach sinking. He had a feeling he fucking knew who the hell it was he was talking to. Putain. Also that meant this guy could see ghosts. Well that narrowed it down a little. Medium maybe? Zombie? Wait what was he going for behind the bar? Shit, time to pull a knife out, just in case. He grabbed a standard blade first but started rummaging in his pockets. Had to have an iron one on him somewhere.

“Oh, how cute. The bloodsucker found the salt,” Lauren smiled and shook her head, arms crossed in front of her incorporeal body. “Do you really think that will stop me?”  Lauren disappeared and sprung back next to Matty’s left, voice slithering right into his ear. “I need you to tell my son something, you filthy animated corpse. Before you turn to dust.” She vanished again and reappeared on his other side, eyes fixed on Kaden even though he couldn’t see her as she spit more venom into the vampire’s ear. “Tell him he should have been better. And that he’s all but proven he’s no son of mine.” Her visage was gone one more for the moment. With a loud crash, half the tables in the bar burst, sending drinks and food tumbling to the floor and wood shards flying in every direction. If that wasn’t a hint for her disgrace of a son, nothing would be.

Shit. Pawing around behind the counter, Matty was doing his best to think, clearly, with blood on the air. Human blood. He’d eaten earlier, but - pig, or something, whatever Nic had drained into those juiceboxes. Not enough to keep the good stuff from being distracting. “Uh…” He stammered, hearing Kaden. Asking a totally sensible kinda question, in the middle of something not sensible at all. There - pinch-bowls of salt. A couple went spilling onto the counter as Matty flinched, that chilling, creeping not-breath riding up his spine again, that hiss an itch across the back of his neck. Tell him.

Oh, this cow could eat it.

“Fuck off, Jesus!” He rasped, flinging a handful of the stuff. Where she’d been, anyway. God, usually ghosts were chill. Why’d he have to wind up drinking with some hunter who had poltergeist-grade baggage? Snatching up another desperate handful of salt, Matty glanced Kaden’s way. Or, almost. Everything went to shit, before he got a good look at the guy. Again. Worse. The back-mirror splintered and sheeted apart as pieces of table and chair stabbed through, into the wall, quivering furiously. “Your mom!” Shouting over the noise, Matty cowered behind the bar, panting hard and panicky from where he’d hit the dirt. “I swear, man - that’s what she says...” Why she felt the need to let him know, well. That, Matty sure as shit couldn’t answer.

Kaden was still fumbling for anything iron when the tables exploded. He dropped down and ducked, once again using his arms to shield himself. Fucking shit. This had to be an angry spirit, right? Shit, he was so far out of his depths here.

He shot up at the man’s words. “My mom?” His brow creased and he looked around, as if he’d be able to see her. “Putain de merde!” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. He had a feeling that was the case. He really wished it wasn’t. Fucking fuck. “Circle yourself in salt!” he shouted

Wait. Did that mean?

No. That. No. It couldn’t be.

As soon as her son froze, Lauren knew he’d figured it out. She’d hoped that he would, maybe a little sooner, but her faith in him had waned. “Do it, mon petitou. Do it.” She whispered in his ear as if he could hear him. All she needed was for him to stake one measly vampire and then she could move on. Maybe.

Kaden shook off his stupor as he felt a chill creep down his spine. There’d be time to evaluate this later. Right now he needed a plan. And to figure out how to stop this. “Want to tell me why the fuck you can see ghosts?” he shouted to Matty. “And why my mother is pissed as shit at you. And me. But you seem like the cause here, too.”

Lauren could feel the rage building up inside her again. Why was he talking? Why wasn't he acting? She threw back her spectral head and screamed, pushing her anger out to shatter all the glass and windows. It lashed out and added more scrapes and cuts to her son’s body. She didn’t care anymore if her son bled. Maybe then this vampire would show its true nature and Kaden would remember that he was meant to fight monsters, not protect them.

Circle of salt. Right. Ghosts, couldn’t cross. Only, then he would be stuck, here, in deep with Langley, who - who, whatever he might be, had shit going on that Matty wanted fuck all to do with, frankly. No offense to the dude, just. No. Kicking some of the wreckage aside, Matty scrambled to draw that circle out, wincing as his supply ran a bit thin. It’d be enough, right? Maybe. He’d stretch it. Did he want to tell Kaden why he saw ghosts? Like hell, if Mama Langley’s hate-on said anything about how she’d raised her son. “It’s, uh - genetic!” Matty shouted back, a little frayed about it. Seemed to work for Nora. Though, Nora was a pretty shit standard for what totally normal people would believe. Obviously. Fuck.

The hot, spattery smell of blood sharpened up, suddenly, tugging at Matty’s teeth until his jaw ached. “I don’t know, man! Maybe she’s just a raging bitch?!” No, the guy didn’t need to hear what mommy dearest was going on about. He shook his head, woozy - a sluggish lick of dark blood dribbled down the side of his cheek, dead and cold. And tried to fix that fucking circle.

Kaden was getting fucking sick of playing duck and cover with a poltergiest. The wounds probably wouldn’t take too long to heal but it still stung. In more ways than one. “Genetic?” Had to be a medium then. Why the fuck was she so mad about a medium? Then his mind jumped to Blanche. Whatever it was, it had to do with her, right? And certainly Regan. There was no doubt there. Fuck. They had to get out of here, but he knew damn well his mother would follow him if they just cut and ran. He had no iron on him. And funny enough, rock bars weren’t exactly filled with it. He looked around on the floor, between the shattered tables and fallen plates, he saw something. A fucking margarita glass. Rimmed with salt. Plastic. Never been so happy to be at a cheap fucking bar. He grabbed it and started swinging it wildly, wielding it like a weapon. “When you see her disappear, fucking run!” he shouted, whirling around the room and waving the salt rimmed glass around.

The hell was Kaden up to? Peeking out around the counter corner, Matty strained to keep his boots in the circle and his eyes on the action. Which was something to see, for fuckin’ sure: Langley, swinging like a drunk playing pinata. Right across his shrieking-mad mom, the spiderwebby substance of her rending apart. And not coming back. For a beat, Matty couldn’t believe it. But, he didn’t have to. Unfrozen, he lurched alive and out - the shattered front window, the shortest path to away from all this. Stumbling wildly into the parking lot, Matty hit the asphalt at a sprint, with a skitter of glass, and didn’t stop. Not until he was far, far away from the blood, and that mess of a bar, and Kaden Langley’s totally batshit mommy issues.

[dovechim]

sowing a sapling [2/2] (m)

cr

❀ COWRITTEN WITH @jimlingss​ please send her some nice messages!!!! she deserves the world (.❛ ᴗ ❛.)

❀ Summary: What no one told you about ‘Happily Ever After’s: the next day, you’ll still have to wake up and go about your life as per normal, because life isn’t a fairytale. You thought you had the rest of your life figured out: settling down happily with Jimin, ruling over all of Hogwarts with an iron fist as the Potions Master, and maybe, in the very distant future, starting a family of your own. But life, as usual, decides to throw a wrench in your plans. With a baby on the way and your husband insistently refusing all attempts at initiating sex, the arrival of a gorgeous new student teacher spells disaster for your marriage.

If getting married to Park Jimin was the happiest day of your life, what does it say about the rest of your life?

❀ Warnings: Pregnancy, thigh riding, dry humping, male/female oral sex, fingering, pregnancy sex, mentions of pregnancy related symptoms, lactation, heavy mentions of cheating/infidelity, usage of produce in masturbation, intense jealousy and insecurity.

❀ 23.2k 

❀ please read part 1 first! this is a sequel to: A Serpent’s Flower 01| 02 

In ten weeks, you’ll be birthing out your precious fungus, aka Jimin’s beautiful sapling, into this horrible world. But in five weeks, you’ll officially be on maternity leave. It’s not exactly ideal to be in labour at Hogwarts, as much as Jeongguk would absolutely love to have you birth the ‘inter-house harmony’ child here.

Luckily, a lot of your anxieties on your career has been eased. The Headmaster has ensured that you and Jimin will have your jobs whenever you chose to return considering you’re valuable assets to Hogwarts. It’s a relief to hear and he already mentioned that he found Jimin’s replacement with Hoseok taking up the helm of Head of Hufflepuff, and an experienced professor will be hired for Herbology. For you, Yuri will become the temporary Head of Slytherin, but Jeongguk has hired someone brand new for potions, a complete outsider without any experience.

In the past, before you were hired, there have apparently been many incidences in regards to potions, things that include having to evacuate the entire castle, accidentally blowing up the classroom, setting students’ hair on fire. You’ll attest that the Hogwarts records aren’t so pretty when it comes to potions, so it’s understandable Jeongguk wants to hire someone brand-spanking new with a fresh approach and who’s not stubborn in their traditional methods.

You’ll admit after two years, he’s starting to get the hang of this whole Headmaster thing.

Everything is perfectly set for you to go on maternity leave and enjoy the rest of your pregnancy before welcoming your baby to the world. But Jeongguk has made one special request (more like he dramatically dropped on his knees to beg you) — to prevent any mishaps, he’s asked you to take the new-hire under your wing as a student-teacher for a month before you leave, just to get her used to things and show her the ropes.

While you’ve never trained someone to do your job before, Jeongguk’s request is reasonable, so it doesn’t take much for you to agree.

And here you are, summoned by Jeongguk during your free-period. When you step inside his office, you immediately notice that there is already someone seated in one of the guest chairs.

Headmaster Jeon rises to greet you, and the newcomer follows suit. She stands, twirling around on her toes, causing her blue skirt and white blouse to ruffle. A blazing smile spreads into her cheeks, rosy lipstick-stained lips tugging.

Time stops. Your breath is stolen away. You’ve been star-struck.

This wasn’t even the reaction you had when you met Jimin. Frankly, you thought nothing of him. Maybe you’ve been so sexually deprived lately, but you swear as you look at her, you wet yourself a little. She is absolutely gorgeous. Even then it’s an understatement.

She is a petite, young woman with delicate features, reminding you of a doll. Her shoulder length chestnut coloured hair is glossy in the candlelight. Her rounded eyes glistening, eyes crinkled slightly. Her skin is so bright and luminous, and her smile absolutely charming as she grins at the sight of you, stepping forward to offer her hand in a handshake.

“Professor _____, this is Ms Ryujin. She graduated from the Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, and she is currently pursuing further studies in Potions.”

Beauxbatons. Of course. That’s why she is so utterly beautiful. Next to her you feel like a troll.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Professor ______,” her voice is a light tinkle that dances on the wind, all too soft-spoken. “I am such a fan of yours. I’ve read all your papers and all the books you published! I especially used your dissertation on the things that can go wrong with Amortentia in my own research paper. It’s such an honour to finally meet you! And to be asked to substitute for you…it’s an absolute honour! I don’t know how I’ll ever fill your shoes.”

Her enthusiasm is a stark contrast to your gloominess. You muster up a smile for her as you shake her hand. “Um, wow, thank you…I guess.”

“And congratulations on the pregnancy! You look absolutely gorgeous. I hope I’ll look half as beautiful as you do if I ever decide to have children!”

Now you know she’s lying through her teeth. There’s no way you are beautiful right now. You have dark circles from tossing and turning in bed all night because of your back ache, a few spots on your face here and there due to your overactive hormone levels, and you are as big as a whale. Your bump is visible even from a mile away in these robes, so you just look like a big fat lump waddling around.

But the worst part is that you can’t even sense her disingenuity from her voice. She seems all too sincere and it’s overwhelming. Your smile is tense as you glance at Headmaster Jeon for any input he might have. And he’s smiling, eyes slightly glazed over, looking prouder than ever.

Of course. If you were starstruck, then everyone else is sure to be bewitched by her beauty. “I think you’ll fit right into Hogwarts.”

“I hope so.” She fiddles with her fingers, aura too powerful in femininity. She is fragile, graceful, and you feel less like a woman standing in front of her. “I’m a bit nervous.”

“Don’t be.” Jeongguk is grinning from ear to ear; this is the happiest you’ve seen him since he became Headmaster. Usually he’s always walking around with a stressed out frown or looking as if he’s about to burst into tears. “Professor ______ will help you get used to things. You’ll do great.”

Ryujin shifts to you with sparkling irises. “I’ll be in your care then, Professor ______.”

You take a deep breath. It’s not like you to be envious of someone else and she’s innocent. She hasn’t done anything wrong, but be more than warm towards you. “You’ll do fine. It’s not that bad, trust me, and you don’t have to call me by professor since we’re colleagues now.”

She excitedly nods. “Then….thank you, ______.”

You return her meek smile. “Have you gotten a look around the castle yet?”

“Only a brief glance while I was making my way here.”

“I’ll show you then.” Your lips pull and she nods, picking up her suitcase.

“You’ll be staying in a room near the Potions classroom for easy access,” Jeongguk says. “You’ll probably find it while you’re on your tour. Most of the paperwork is done here as well, but if there’s anything you need then feel free to drop by.”

“Okay, thank you.”

You show her around, to the Great Hall down to the dungeons. The corridors are twisting and easy to get lost in, the maps not that much help either, but you try your best to show her which classroom is which and how the towers connect to different places. She drops off her suitcase in her room too, eager to get settled down later. But as you do your tour, she attracts a parade of students from afar.

You’re no longer the exhibit for people to gawk at. Now everyone’s attention is directed elsewhere as well as a sea of murmurs that ripple on how beautiful she is.

As you waddle through the halls as quickly as your swollen feet can allow, you’re eventually stopped by a first year student. “Um, excuse me.” The red on her robes show she’s a Gryffindor, paired with the way she’s brave enough to come up to you. But she’s not looking at you at all. Her eyes are pinpointed onto the woman beside you. “Are you the new Potions professor?”

Ryujin grins, leaning down and meeting the child at eye-level. “Yes, I am. Are you one of my students?”

“Yes!” The child grins, hopping up and down.

“Nice to meet you then.” Your student-teacher shakes the first year’s hands, both exchanging soft smiles.

“Joy, don’t you have somewhere to be?” you interrupt their little exchange with your hands on your hips and your eyes narrowed. “Why are you loitering the halls? Are you skipping class?”

“I’m heading to the library, Professor ______,” she answers in a curt tone.

But before you can discipline her for speaking to you in that way, Ryuji teases the child, “well, you better be on your way before you get into trouble. I’m looking forward to teaching you.”

The Gryffindor dips her head, smiling, and scampers back to her friends, probably confirming that the gorgeous woman is indeed the new Potions teacher. You catch them celebrating, high-fiving each other and glancing over, and it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.

“It’s good to be stricter with the students,” you mention in passing. “If you’re too nice, they’ll take advantage of it.”

Ryujin nods, following you. Her eyes are wide, mouth parted slightly in awe as she takes in the infrastructure of the castle, the large glass windows to the pillars supporting the high ceilings. “Honestly, I love Hogwarts so much. There’s such a sense of family here. Even if you’re divided into houses, it just feels so...warm and cozy. I would’ve loved this place as a student.”

She’s speaking her thoughts aloud and fantasizing. “What house do you think I would’ve been sorted into?”

“Hufflepuff,” you reply after a beat. You don’t know Ryujin that well, but it’s a feeling and your observations so far tells you she would be wonderful in that yellow house. “I think you would’ve done well there. But was it not like that at Beauxbatons?”

The school is prestigious and the faculty is as gorgeous as the students are. You’ve heard nothing, but praises about that school and all the alumni you know are elegant individuals.

“They were a lot stricter with their rules. It wasn’t really as relaxed.”

You hum a note. “I didn’t know that. But you must’ve done well, considering Headmaster Jeon hired you to become a potions teacher.”

“Oh, I just really love potions, so I did well. Out of all the subjects, I was the most passionate about it. It’s like an….art form.” Merlin, she is getting harder and harder to hate as the seconds go by. Maybe you should just cut your losses and part ways now before you fall in love with her or something. “You can’t experiment with spells or charms the way you can with potions. There’s just something about the way the colours change right in front of your eyes as you add ingredients that it’s so….”

“Captivating.”

Your steps are slow, the syllables leaving your mouth in a breathless manner, and you nearly want to slap yourself for sounding this emotional in front of a near stranger. She seems to understand your love for Potions right down to the most intricate details. Maybe the two of you are more alike than you thought. But still, a certain part of you envies her to the point where it almost borders on dislike, even annoyance. The emotions inside you are conflicting, but you chalk it down to hormones.

“Yes, that’s the word.” She smiles, fluttering her lashes and you blink hard, wondering if she is a deity who descended from some otherworldly place. She is soft, sweet, and appears like she’s been crafted out of marble, a masterpiece created by a skillful genius. “But of course, I’m nowhere as good as you are.”

You scoff, tearing your eyes away before you’re caught ogling. “Oh please, you don’t need to be humble. If Jeongguk hired you right away, then you must be good.”

The corners of her lips quirk and she sweeps the area with her eyes as you turn the corner. The glass windows are open, letting in fresh air and there’s vivid greenery outside. “What is this place?”

“It’s the greenhouses. They teach Herbology here. Would you like to take a look?”

Her curiosity is piqued. “Sure, if you don’t mind.”

You exit the castle, walking over to the greenhouses to find Jimin weaving between the benches, monitoring the students and letting them do their own observations as he sits back and encourages them. It’s just like him to let them have a more hands-on approach and you smile.

Your husband catches you toddling over from his peripheral vision and he turns, face lighting up like a bulb flickered on. His strides are quick. “What are you doing here?” He reaches in, planting a kiss on your cheek at your lovely surprise. Jimin makes your heart swell and you feel better already.

Ever since the talk, things have been steadily improving. He’s given you more room to breathe and your mood has generally improved after getting full meals again, even if sometimes they’re greasier foods. “I’m just showing the new-hire around. This is Ryujin.”

You don’t know if your eyes are mistaken, but you swear her cheeks become rosier. “Hello, nice to meet you.”

“Hello.” Jimin rapidly peels off his gloves and shakes her hand. You stare at the way their hands are tightly held, skin to skin. Why couldn’t he have done it with his glove on? “Thank you for helping my wife and I out. We’re very grateful.”

“Oh, it’s nothing. I don’t know if I can ever fully replace her.” She lets go of his hand, swallowing and glancing at you. “Congratulations on the baby, by the way.”

“Thank you.” He shifts to face the class, hand gesturing to explain what they’re doing. “We’re just pruning flutterby bushes right now.”

“I see. So these students are...fourth year kids?”

Jimin is pleasantly surprised and his lips lift into a smile. “How did you know?”

Ryujin is bashful and shy. “I made sure to go over all the Hogwarts curriculum just to be sure.”

“You’re very prepared then,” he praises.

“My mother was actually a herbologist too.”

That seems to ignite Jimin’s interest and his brows shoot up. “Really now?”

“She loved plants and flowers and our entire house was full of them,” Ryujin admits with a sheepish smile while inhale the fresh air surrounding her.

“Then you must know what this is.” He picks up a pair of shears from the table and walks over to a bush, crouching down to snip the stem of a flower. She takes it when he hands it to her and brings it to her nose for a delicate sniff. The flower is a bright pastel pink, abundant in petals, scent so overpowering that you can smell it from where you are.

Your jaw drops. Is this actually happening right in front of your eyes right now? Park Jimin is practically pulling the same fucking moves on her as he did on you.

The intelligent young woman knows after taking a moment to deliberate. “It’s a muggle flower. A...carnation. Used for decoration and aesthetic purposes.”

“You’re right.” Jimin gives a cheesy grin, happy to find someone who appreciates plants like he does. “Now I know you’re not a fraud.”

She giggles in response and you’re appalled. They act like you’re not even here. You could fade into the background, disappear, transfigure yourself into a bird and no one would even notice. Your wish to be invisible has finally been granted and you hate it.

But Jimin isn’t the only one who shows her more than a warm welcome. By lunchtime, the entire faculty of staff and students are out of control. There are seventh year students who run out of their classrooms just to catch a glimpse of her walking past, second years sticking their heads out of windows, fifth years who ran half across the castle to join the crowd. The children look on with admiration and wonderment.

There are insistent murmurs amongst the other professors as well and several seats at the Grand Hall are saved for her, practically fighting for her to sit next to them.

Ye Eun mumbles, jealous at the attention, and you can’t believe there would be a day you two could bond over the exasperation you feel. You get it. Really. She’s not only easy on the eyes, but lovely to be around too. But is it really necessary to act like she’s a celebrity? And it’s so entirely unprofessional of the faculty members to be salivating over her. You just—

“Is that really your replacement?”

You’re startled out of your trance by Taehyung sliding next to you. His eyes are pinpointed ahead to where Ryujin is laughing, accepting chocolates from a second year female student. You nearly open your mouth to warn her about how dangerous it is to accept food from students, based on personal experience, but then you decide that your quality of life might just improve a tad bit if she just happened to be turned into a toad.

“Yeah, why?”

“She’s gorgeous,” he says, drooling already, and you roll your eyes. “Tell me, what are her likes and dislikes?”

“If I tell you, what are you going to do with that information?”

“Obviously talk to her.” Taehyung finally looks at you and he adds on quickly, “and maybe use it to smash her later.”

“You are so disgusting.”

“What? Any man or woman with two eyes are thinking the exact same thing as I am. Haven’t you thought that she’s ridiculously attractive?”

“Can you treat her with more respect?” You evade his question and cross your arms. “She’s not a piece of meat.”

“I know.” He sighs, downcasting his head and ashamed at his blatant rudeness to a future colleague. “You’re right.”

For once, someone agrees with you and you take a second to bask in it. “Of course, I’m righ— Hey! Where are you going?”

The idiotic Head of Gryffindor approaches her with blind confidence in every stride. His hand extends and he flashes his boxy smile towards the female. “Hello, I don’t believe we’ve met. My name is Kim Taehyung. I am the Divination professor here at Hogwarts.”

“Oh, hello, Taehyung.” She shakes his hand, offering a kind smile as she stares up at him.

“I love your blouse,” he points out after he lets go.

“T-thank you.” The student-teacher is slightly caught off guard, used to people asking her if she’s the new teacher, where she came from, where she’s staying, how long she’ll be here for, or she’s showered in superficial comments. “I got it on sale.”

“Really?” Taehyung is genuinely interested and his brows shoot up. “Where?”

You’re not sure if you’re impressed or not. On one hand, Taehyung sounds like he wants to buy the white blouse for himself. But on the other hand, you have to admit he’s smoother than the others and much less creepy, intrusive and more courteous.

For the rest of the day, Ryujin follows you. It’s a bit unfamiliar for you to have someone shadowing you, but you don’t mind showing her the ropes and having a person help you out in the classroom, even if she is a cause for distraction. You go over protocol for accidents and emergencies, show her where you keep your books, where the potions closet is, how to get ingredients for potions needed, and what your lessons plans look like. Luckily, she is a fast learner and writes down everything on her little notepad.

Aside from your own personal biases, you really can’t find anything to complain about her.

She is a joy to work with. She is pleasant. She’ll make a great replacement. But something about her just bothers you to no end, and it keeps you awake longer than usual that night in bed.

“Jimin…” You shuffle a bit and he hums softly as an answer, breath on the back of your neck.

At this stage of your pregnancy, you feel stuffy quickly, but you always let Jimin have his five minutes of cuddling in bed. He spoons you from behind as you lay on your left side, his hands around your torso and sprawled on your stomach, your hands on top of his while you both feel the baby move occasionally. It’s intimate, cozy, and you feel safe in his embrace like this.

“What do you think of Ryujin?” you ask him, murmuring in the quietness of the night.

“Seems nice,” he whispers sleepily.

“Just nice?” Your lashes flutter open and you wonder if he’s acting apathetic to spare your feelings. “She’s really gorgeous.”

“I guess.” Jimin holds you closer, your legs tangling together with his. You’ve found the sweet spot, pillow positioned in the right place, husband supporting you as well. It’s comfortable, something you don’t experience so much anymore, but you know in a few hours, the position will be lost when you have to get up for another bathroom break. “I was surprised when she said her mother was a herbologist.”

“Mhm. She’s young, intelligent, optimistic, lovely to be around…”

“Are you jealous?” he asks, feeling more awake than before. You can feel the curve of Jimin’s smile on the back of your neck. He presses a gentle kiss to your skin and you hold back a shudder as goosebumps raise on your arms.

“I’m not,” you mutter with a pout he can’t see. “Honestly, you should be on edge because I might leave you for her. She has a passion for potions, y’know, and that really gets me going.”

Your husband giggles quietly and he nuzzles into your hair. “Guess I have competition then.”

“But be honest, what do you think of her?” You’re not sure why you’re probing so much. You don’t know what kind of answer you’re looking for. But you want to know what he’s truly thinking. “I just want to know your opinion,” you add on, “since she’s going to be my substitute and all. It matters to me what you think. And…T-Taehyung said he’d smash her.”

“Taehyung is a horndog. He’d smash anything that walks on two legs.” Jimin has his lips against your neck as he hums, so that you can feel the pleasant vibrations throughout your body. “I think…I think she’ll be a great replacement. She’ll do a great job because you’ll teach her well. Hogwarts won’t even notice we’re gone.”

The last part of his sentence stings a little. Granted, it definitely wasn’t Jimin’s intention to make you feel replaceable, but face it, everyone likes to be needed. And especially during such a vulnerable time in your life, feeling overly bloated and entirely insecure, this is the kind of thing that slowly eats away at you when it normally wouldn’t affect you otherwise.

But you let it go without a word. You have to choose your battles, after all.

Feeling his firm warmth against your back makes you crave for more of his touch. A part of you is hesitant to do anything for fear of getting rejected again, but the more carnal part of you decides that you have nothing to lose anyway. You can feel his crotch right up against your ass where you want it, and ignoring the fact that it isn’t even close to being hard yet, you nestle back against him slightly. Your ass rubs against his cock as you sandwich it between your cheeks, and you can feel a brief stirring in his length before Jimin shuts you down again with a platonic kiss on your cheek.

“Baby, I’m tired. Let’s just go to sleep, hmmm?”

Your heart sinks in your chest, and tears well up in your eyes, although from this position, Jimin can’t see a single thing. Nodding briefly, you turn to hide your face in the crook of your arm, hide your tears from your husband even though you can feel his half hard cock against you. But it soon subsides, however, as Jimin drifts off to sleep behind you, and you are left lying awake with a tearstained pillow.

That night you dream of your dear husband and a petite, young woman with rosy cheeks.

*//*

Today is the first day of official classes where you’ll be sitting off to the side and observing Ryujin take over your class on her own. Most of the fourth year students in this class have been well trained by your no nonsense methods, but the moment they step into class and see Ryujin at the front instead of you, they whisper excitedly amongst themselves.

Once everyone is settled down, you move to the front of the class again, standing beside Ryujin’s petite figure as you address the class. Today she is wearing a standard black cloak, almost the same as the one you are wearing, but somehow she makes it look more fashionable than you could ever dream of.

“Good morning, fourth years. Today we’ll be learning how to make a Wit Sharpening Potion… which I suspect might come in handy for some of you here,” you narrow your eyes as you make your customary scan across the classroom, pleased when students avoid your gaze in terror. “Before I hand the class over to Professor Ryujin, I’d like to remind you once again that just because I am sitting off to the side, that does not mean I won’t punish any transgressions. There shall be no foolish wand waving or silly incantations in this class. Am I clear?”

“Yes, Professor _____,” the class answers like a well oiled machine.

“Good,” you smile, and turn to your textbook, flipping to the appropriate page…except you can’t remember what your lesson plan is today. Damn it, you just said it moments ago…what potion was it? This is a fourth year class, so it’s either Girding or Wit Sharpening…

Ryujin seemingly senses your struggle and smiles prettily at you as she stops your page at the Wit Sharpening Potion. “Professor_____, are you feeling alright? Maybe you should go sit down. I think I got it from here.”

Inwardly seething more from embarrassment and annoyance at yourself than anything else, you quietly leave her at the blackboard and take a seat at the back of the class, magicking a cushion onto the hard chair so that you can be more comfortable. As you observe the student teacher from here, it’s painfully obvious that she has a way with the students, they like her so much that they are paying 110% attention, and it looks as if she really enjoys teaching Potions as well. Every flick of her hair, wave of her wand and gracious movements as she prepares the ingredients perfectly has you and the students mesmerized.

Your job as Potions Master might very well be in danger.

In the middle of class, one Ravenclaw girl suddenly shoots her hand up. “Professor Ryujin!”

She comes over instantly, a concerned look on her face as she smiles at the student. “Ah, Yeri, what’s wrong?”

“I think my ginger root has mould on it…would it still be alright to use?”

Ryujin picks up the root and examines it for a moment, her pretty forehead creasing a little. Finally, she glances at you, a little unsure, and you jump at the opportunity. This is the fastest you’ve ever moved since you got pregnant.

The root seems far too mouldy to be included in the potion, and doing so would only result in disastrous consequences.

“Does anyone else have a mouldy root? Please check your ingredients carefully before tossing them into your cauldron and killing us all,” you say to the rest of the class, setting aside the ginger root in your hand and turning to Ryujin. “I’ll have to go down to the greenhouse and get more ginger root. While I do that, could you occupy them with something else?”

Ryujin is quick to object. “Oh no, Professor ______, I’ll go instead! You shouldn’t be walking too much in your condition — I imagine it would be tiring for you. Who should I speak to at the greenhouse? Would Professor Park be in now by any chance?”

You hesitate a beat at the mention of your husband’s name. That is precisely why you wanted to go to the greenhouse by yourself in the first place — you know that seeing your husband’s face always improves your mood. And especially considering he has his free period right now, you could even sneak in a quickie in the greenhouse — no one would be the wiser.

“Um…” But with all the students’ attention on you, you are hard pressed to turn her kind intentions down. “Yes, he’ll be in now. Just…ask him for some ginger root. It shouldn’t take long, he probably already has them harvested.”

Your last sentence was meant as a subtle warning for her not to attempt anything foolish alone in the greenhouse with your husband, but Ryujin doesn’t seem to be able to read between the lines as she grins brightly, telling you to take a seat before turning on her heel and heading for the door. You stare after her longingly, wishing to have that kind of mobility once more as she disappears.

The next few moments of class seem to pass by painfully slowly. You’ve assigned the students to write an essay on the benefits and side effects of Wit Sharpening Potion and how they can be remedied, so you are currently almost dozing off in your seat. Blame the stupid pregnancy for tiring you out so much. It’s entirely irrational to believe that Jimin would ever do anything to hurt you or that Ryujin would do anything that isn’t professional, but your mind can’t seem to stop flashing images beneath your eyelids.

You glance at the clock every now and then to document the minutes going by, but it only makes waiting even more torturous as your traitorous brain cooks up all kinds of scenarios as to what Ryujin and Jimin might be doing together in that greenhouse at that very moment.

The greenhouse is known to be humid and steamy. A perfect place for two extremely good looking people to get close and intimate, sweating their passion for each other in a place no one really bothers to check.

Merlin, all this is driving you absolutely nuts. You snap at a boy who asks if he can be excused to use the restroom, making him almost pee his pants.

After what seems like ages, you hear a light, airy voice coming from outside the classroom, accompanied by a deeper chuckle that you recognise immediately. You push yourself off your seat and waddle to the door, only to find Ryujin and Jimin talking and laughing intimately with each other as they approach your classroom.

Jimin is holding a sack of ginger root, his dress shirt pushed up to above his elbows to reveal his wiry forearms, and the sight alone makes your mouth water. His purple hair is pushed off his forehead, slightly damp, and his skin looks to be a little sweaty. Instantly, your suspicion is triggered, but before you can think any further, the two of them have entered your classroom.

“Here you are, this should be enough to last you a week!” Jimin grins as he sets down the heavy sack on the floor, grinning at Ryujin.

“Thank you so much, Professor Park,” she is overly enthusiastic in her gratefulness, touching Jimin’s arm lightly to express her thanks. Your throat immediately dries up when you see how casually she touches your husband.

You clear your throat to remind the two lovebirds that you are in fact standing right in front of them.

Jimin turns to you with the smile still on his face, as if seeing you for the first time since he stepped into your classroom. “Oh, hi, baby! I was just helping Ryujin here with this. It’s a little heavy, and the walk from the greenhouse to the dungeons is pretty far, so…”

“I forgot the way I came from, so he had to show me,” she says sheepishly, “I couldn’t have done it without him. Thank you, Professor Park. You’re very kind.” Ryujin is practically gushing over your husband at this point, and it takes every bit of willpower you have in you not to roll your eyes.

Jimin, as usual, is a sucker for praise, and he laps it all up like a hungry kitten. He beams at her compliments, the smile reaching all the way to his eyes as he runs a hand through his hair in embarrassment. This won’t do. The longer you have to stand here and witness their little love affair, the more stress you’re putting on the baby. The baby in this situation being you.

“Jimin, don’t you have class too in a bit?” You prompt him.

“Oh, well yeah I do, but there’s still some time,” he glances at the clock before looking at you. Then, he turns to Ryujin. “How is your first day of class going? Do you need any help with anything else?”

“I think I’m fine for now.” She nods and gives a pretty smile, timidly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I’ll definitely ask you if I need anything.”

His eyes lock into hers. “Alright.”

“Don’t forget to water that malloweed,” Ryujin adds on in a teasing tone, arms behind her back and leaning to the side slightly with a secretive smile on her face.

“I won’t forget.” Your husband laughs heartily, looking all too happy. “I owe you that extra-sweet butterbeer, right?”

Before he can slip out, you interject with narrowed eyes. “Malloweed?”

“Don’t worry about it.” The smile is still lingering on Jimin’s face and he pats your head once before passing by. “I’ll see you later.”

He exits and you swear there’s a skip in his step. Ryujin glances at his retreating figure before walking away, handing out the ginger root to the students who need them. In the meantime, you’re stuck in your spot, bones and muscles unable to move. But your left eye twitches and there’s a tap on your arm.

Your neck cranes downwards. “Professor, how do we know if the Wit Sharpening Potion is a success?”

The student who is asking this stupid question that gets on your already infuriated nerves fidgets on the spot in front of you. You close your eyes in exasperation, wishing you could tell him to just pour the entire cauldron down his throat and see if it has really worked or not.

You send him a scathing look, and it’s enough to send him scurrying away.

It’s absurd to question Jimin’s loyalties. He is your husband for goodness sakes and you know as well as anyone that he only has eyes for you. But as unreasonable as you know your suspicions are, you begin to question if they are irrational or not. Maybe you’re the one who’s been blinded by his love. Is it really so aberrant to believe there could be something going on?

“Is there something that you need help with, Professor ______?”

Ryujin stops, noticing that you’re struggling to get the brass scale from the bottom cabinet with your enormous belly in the way. Before your lips can part and tell her you’re fine, she moves downwards and grabs it. You sigh, but then the collar of her robes flutter and your eyes latch onto the skin of her neck.

“Merlin! Are you alright?!” Your hand latches onto her shoulder in alarm as she rises. There are students who turn around, but when you cast a sharp glance, they all turn around to mind their own business. Your voice lowers, frantically whispering to the confused girl, “did you get attacked?”

Her brows furrow. “Pardon?”

“You have bruises on your neck,” you murmur.

But immediately, her hand comes up to cover them and her face blooms into a shade of scarlet. Still, she can’t completely cover the splotches of blue and purple made across her flesh, down to her collarbone, like a vine of flowers made and by the soft petals of someone’s lips…..lips...

The corners of your lips fall. Your eyes glaze over. The realization slams into you.

They’re not just bruises.

They’re hickies.

Ryujin downcasts her head and quickly fixes her collar, hiding her neck from plain view. She swallows hard, avoiding eye contact with you. “Oh, I—….uh….I think I’ll be fine.”

“Are you sure?” your voice is deadpanning, zero emotions leaking into your blank expression. But your jaw ticks and you feel your patience being tested. It’s the calm beneath the storm. “You didn’t have them before.” At least, you didn’t notice them before she headed to the greenhouse. Were they there before? In your mind’s eye, her skin was pure and pristine, which only means one thing...

“I...umm….I might head to the infirmary after class then. I think it’s just a bug bite.”

“Yup. You should get that checked out. Wouldn’t want to be bitten by something and die.”

Your last word is punctuated with a stiff, glassy smile hiding a thinly veiled threat. But before she can say anything more, a student raises their hand to ask a question and Ryujin saunters over. As you grip the brass scale on the table, you nearly bend the entire metal apparatus in half.

There is no way. No way. You can’t believe it. You won’t.

But you would have to be a complete idiot to be in denial.

*//*

You’re actually going insane.

For the sake of you and your child, as well as not bursting a blood vessel at your forehead, you take deep breaths to lower your high blood pressure. You try your best to remain positive, but optimism has never been your strong point. It’s intrinsic for you to jump to the worst conclusions, to rely on your rationale and prepare for the worst. While these traits have helped you all your life, they’re making you go crazy now.

When dinner rolls around, you pick at the food in your plate. The seat beside you is empty, saved for your dear husband, but he never shows up. You wait and wait, hopes high, but crushed every time you catch someone entering the Great Hall, only for it to be a student. The amount you exhale in disappointment would be enough to fill an entire room. It’s not like you can eat either and take your mind off of it. You’re unable to swallow your food, having no appetite, finding it too difficult to swallow. Everything that you were once craving has become unappetizing.

“______!” Taehyung interrupts your deep trance with a shout, startling you. “I was calling you ten times! What’s wrong with you? You’re never so out of it.”

“Nothing.” You put your fork down. “What do you want?”

The Divination Professor scratches the back of his neck. “Do you know where Ryujin is?”

“What?” You sit straighter, eyes sweeping around the table. You didn’t even notice. “She’s not here?”

Taehyung shrugs, plopping down on the empty seat you had been saving. “I thought you would know since she’s suppose to shadow you, right?”

Immediately, you abandon your dinner, tottering off and disregarding the way Taehyung calls your name. You don’t turn back. Your steps are quicker than they’ve ever been. You hold your stomach, supporting the weight, and when students greet you as they pass, you only hum, never slowing down. You’ve become the Hogwarts Express, soldiering on full speed ahead without stopping for anyone.

Wobbling through the twisting hallways, down two sets of moving staircases, you make it all the way to the greenhouses, moving towards Jimin’s office. As you get closer, you catch the light underneath the door, telling you he’s inside and you breathe a sigh of relief.

You really thought there was something going on.

Your hand wraps around the doorknob and as you hear shuffling inside, you part it, deciding to surprise him. But before you can call his name, you’re interrupted by a soft, feminine gasp.

“I’m so sorry!”

The door shoves open, thundering against the wall. You are met with a scandalous sight. “What the hell?!”

The two of them turn to face your rage, the way your features are twisted up hideously, your brows furrowed deep enough to crease permanently. Jimin’s sitting at his desk, leaning back in his chair, hair swept back with a long day’s of sweat built as his hairline. His lips are plush, parted slightly, hands placed on Ryujin’s hips to support her. And she is sitting right in his lap, on his thick thighs, her legs together on the side, palms placed delicately on his shoulders.

Their eyes are large and rounded, like deers in headlights. Instantly, Ryujin stands to her feet, posture straight, as if she can undo what you’ve just witnessed. Her cheeks are tinged pink and she brushes a strand of hair away from her face behind her ear. But you don’t buy her shy act anymore. She’s sly, more so than you are. “I-uh….accidentally tripped and fell over.”

Your arms cross, foot tapping, teeth gritting down and doing everything you can not to march over and grab a fistful of her glossy hair, rip those long strands from her scalp as you scream at her audacity to attempt to seduce your husband. “Uh-huh.”

“What are you doing here, baby?” Jimin smiles like nothing just happened. You can’t believe this. Your husband just got caught with another woman practically gyrating on his lap, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty. His eyes light up and he gets to his feet, the corners of his mouth lifting as his eyes crinkle into half moons.

“I could ask you the same thing,” your voice is sharp, glare hard enough to kill, but it has no effect on him. “You weren’t at dinner.”

Your husband grins wolfishly, brighter than the sun. He is mischievous, joking around without being aware of the dire situation. “Did you miss me?”

When he touches your arm, you shrug it off, stepping back. “What were you doing?”

Jimin’s expression falls at your coldness. Ryujin quickly steps in, coming to stand beside Jimin and trying to help. She doesn’t know that it’s making it worse to see them side by side, so close together. “It’s not his fault. I actually asked Jimin for a Hufflepuff robe. I wanted to try it on and see what it would be like since you told me I would probably be sorted in the Hufflepuff house.”

“You, see?” Jimin smiles again, stepping aside and lifting his hand to hold your arm. His eyes sweep the expanse of Ryujin, the way robe drapes her body and the bright yellow seems to make her eyes glimmer more. “It looks good on her, right?”

“Perfect.” The syllables are bitter and passive aggressive. It sickens you to see the two Hufflepuffs next to each other. Indeed, they are perfect together. You don’t even ask if Ryujin is wearing Jimin’s own personal robes — the way they look loose on her frame is enough of an answer.

You were wrong before. She shouldn’t be in Hufflepuff. She’s a Slytherin through and through, though the thought of having this sly little witch tarnish your beloved House’s hallowed reputation almost makes you throw up. You underestimated her right from the beginning. She was clearly out to seduce Jimin all this time.

It’s awkward. Stiff. You’re glaring at Jimin and he blinks a few times before returning your glare, made less of anger and more in a scolding manner. He frowns at you and you’re flipping through the numerous hexes in your mind, wondering if you can curse him without moving.

The both of you are waging a silent war with each other through your heated gazes while Ryujin is breaking into a cold sweat at the atmosphere. The air is suffocating and she clears her throat to excuse herself. “I...I should go. Umm...I’ll return this to you tomorrow, Jimin. Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.” He’s the first to tear his eyes away from you, smiling and nodding towards the younger witch. She opens her mouth to bid you farewell, but then smartly shuts it when you don’t cast her a glimpse. Her footsteps scatter away until there’s silence in the room.

The silence extends until your frozen heart beats ten times.

“Are you upset?”

“What do you think?”

Jimin grimaces. “Why are you so upset? I was only helping her since she asked me. If it’s because I didn’t show up to dinner on time then next time I’ll make sure that—”

“Why was she in your lap, Jimin?”

His mouth opens and then it closes. “It was an accident.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the back of your skull. “Yeah, right.”

When you were caught straddling Jimin late at night in the classroom and Hoseok walked in, you both brushed it off as an accident too; only Hoseok left the two of you with a knowing smile on his lips. Did he really think you were such an idiot? It’s insulting. Even if it was an accident, you saw the look on his fucking face. He loved every second of it. Was it such a coincidence that Ryujin has been flirting with him? That she suddenly had hickies all over herself after going to the greenhouse?

“What—” He’s made speechless, but you don’t give him any more time of day. “W-where are you going?!”

“None of your business,” you sass him.

It’s easier to breathe when you’re alone in the corridors. You don’t have to be around frustrating people, people whom you love but disappoint you. Everyone is just disappointing, and it feels better to be alone. But of course, there’s a stirring feeling in your stomach and you look down, patting your swollen tummy as the baby shifts around.

You’re not so alone after all. “You wouldn’t betray me, right?”

The fungus inside you kicks you straight in the gut and you cower over, choking on the air, breath lost in your lungs. “Fuck, dammit!” The rule of not swearing anymore since the baby can hear you is thrown out the window. “Child and father, all the fucking same!”

If there are ghosts wandering the hallways, then they steer clear of in your path of wrath.

That night, you end up going to bed a lot earlier than usual. You can’t focus on marking, can’t eat much, and you most definitely don’t want to wait around for Park Jimin to show his stupid face around here.

He enters a few hours later and you don’t know where he’s been or what he’s been doing. Or who. But he tiptoes and stays quiet, crawling into bed and he curls up behind you. His arms come around carefully to embrace your frame, hands sprawled onto your stomach where the baby’s foot is. Your legs tangle ever so slightly and you feel his breath against the back of his neck.

Your own breath is held and you finally open your eyes in the darkness. You’re not asleep like he thinks you are.

He smells like florals, but not in the same way as when he works in the garden.

The scent is sweeter. It’s perfume.

*//*

It never gets better. In fact, it gets worse.

You wake up smiling at Jimin and he smiles back, never mentioning the previous night again. He falls into your trap, thinking that everything is good and that there’s no misunderstanding after you got time to cool off. Little does he know when he turns around and goes about his day, you’re seething.

“You’re smiling a lot lately.” The corners of your lips pull, nearly cracking at the stiffness. “Did something good happen?”

“No, not really.” Jimin secures his dark, plaid blazer. He fixes his sleeves, pushing up the round spectacles he’s decided to wear today and at your prolonged staring, he grins a cheesy smile and walks over, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your lips. It’s sweet and all too brief. “I’m just happy that you’re happy too.”

“What?” You quirk your head, poking his shoulder once. “You didn’t like my mood swings?”

Your husband is sheepish and he admits, “they were a bit out of hand. I felt like I was walking on eggshells all the time. Did you sleep well last night?”

“Hahahahaha…” The moment he turns around, your mouth falls into a straight line and your exaggerated laughter ceases. “As well as a human beach ball would. It was a little stuffy.” You notice the way the purple strands of his hair are slicked back, showing his forehead and brows. “You did your hair today?”

“Yeah.” Jimin seems to ponder over your words for a second as he glances at your figure, before adjusting his bangs a little. His fingers dance along the spines of the bookshelf by the sofa, picking up a new pregnancy book to read for the day. “Do you like it?”

“It’s nice. You ironed your robes too?”

“Gotta look good if I want the day to be good.” Jimin beams at you.

Liar. He just wants to look good for a certain young female teacher who’s obedient and submissive in personality, every man’s wet dream.

But you don’t call him out on it. Oh no. Your tactics have changed. No more tears. No more angry tantrums. No more arguments. You are on observation mode, a hawk in the sky who watches in the shadows. You’re not a brainless Gryffindor, an emotional Hufflepuff, or an aloof Ravenclaw. You are a Slytherin. Head of Slytherin, in fact. The emerald colours on your robes remind you that you have always been a snake.

You are ambitious. Cunning. Resourceful. And you’re going to catch him red-handed so there’s no more denying, so that he can’t make any more excuses.

Only then will all of this be laid to rest.

Today, Jimin has graciously blessed you with his presence in your classroom once more, even though he has to cut short his lunchtime in order to make it for his own class. You suspect it’s more to do with a certain witch with a petite frame and melodious voice than you needing extra help.

From your position outside the classroom, you observe the two lovers. It physically sickens you to go any closer to them, so you settle with watching them from afar, on the pretense of needing the restroom. All the better to find the concrete evidence you need, anyway.

Ryujin is blushing, her pretty cheeks tinted a rose pink as she glances at Jimin. “Jimin, you’re such a patient man…I can’t imagine how you deal with Taehyung’s antics every single day. Did you know, the other day he tried to trip me? I almost fell into his lap!!”

Jimin laughs, a sound that travels across the room and makes your stomach flip at the familiarity of it. “Did he? He can be quite the prankster sometimes. Did you get hurt? If his pranks become too much, I can speak to him and tell him to dial it down.”

“Oh, Jimin, you’re so nice!” Ryujin giggles in response, and you roll your eyes. What’s so funny about what he just said? This entire conversation is duller than the fifth annex of your favourite Potions textbook.

Jimin grins back at her, utterly infatuated with her angelic smile. “Oh- here, let me get that for you!”

“T-thank you.”

You slink from the corner, glancing through the gap of the door. You watch how your husband is reaching up to the top shelf to grab a tray of phials. He’s standing behind her as his arm extends and you scrutinize the way her round ass is practically rubbing all over his front as she giggles.

But before you can bust down the door with an ‘ah-ha!’, he’s moved back and Seokjin’s wandered into the room, excitedly telling Jimin about how he’s helping the Prefects catch whoever’s been breaking into Professors’ offices at night.

The pair of them are laughing all the time together. When Ryujin isn’t complimenting Jimin and they’re not flirting, then they’re making eye contact across the room, eye fucking each other. In the span of a week, they have their own inside jokes, and they’re touching each other all the time. Whether it’s a brush on the arm, on a hand on the shoulder. It mocks you considering how you’ve been physically starved for months now.

“What’s this?”

You’re holding the bouquet of marigolds that Jimin just handed to you, pretty flowers tied together with a red ribbon.

“What does it look like?” Jimin teases. After two years, he’s honed his own special flowers just for you. You no longer need to touch the stem for the petals to ripple into your favourite shade. Being in mere proximity of it has changed the colour of the flowers and when Jimin’s in the same room as you, they turn into a swirl of sunny yellow and emerald.

“Why?”

“Why not?” He shuffles his papers on the table into neat piles. His irises twinkle when they glance up at you. “Can’t I give my beautiful wife flowers sometimes?”

You hate it — not the flowers or the bisque shade that reminds you of blazing fires on Hogsmeade trips. You hate that the gesture that would’ve once made your heart melt is now ridden with suspicion. It’s unbearable to look at the florals when all you can think of is that it’s a tactic to sway you and make you think otherwise.

You put them down; resisting the urge to light them on fire with your wand. “I should go wash the dishes—”

“Already done them.” Your husband smiles. “You can just sit back and relax. I have a few errands to run before I can join you.”

Your voice is weak. You feel your resolve wavering. “Where are you going?”

“I extended my office hours for sixth and seventh years.” As Jimin takes his briefcase and passes, he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek. His gaze is full of endearment….or pity, you’re not sure anymore. “Don’t worry, I’ll be back before you know it since Ryujin’s helping me.”

“R-Ryujin?”

“She knows more about herbology than I thought and it’s nice to get fresh insight. At this rate, she might take both our jobs.”

You stop him before he walks out the door. Your facade begins to crumble, hand on his arm shaking, lips trembling. “D-Don’t you think you’re getting too close to her?”

“Why are you bringing this up?” Jimin smiles automatically like the two years you’ve been together has trained him to do so. His arm lifts and he pats your head once and as his hands fall, he strokes your stomach gently.

“....no reason.”

“I’m just being friendly. We should welcome new staff to Hogwarts, right? I just keep thinking that it must be hard for her since she’s so young and she’s joining by herself. At least when I joined, you also joined, so we were the newbies together.”

“Yeah, but maybe you should cool it,” you plead, looking up at your husband.

He takes a second of consideration and the corners of his mouth lifts. “Are you jealous?”

Once again, he’s evaded your request. He’s evaded all insinuations of him and the young woman being something more. And he doesn’t know how much it breaks you inside, how you’ve been trying to convince yourself you’ll just catch him and end this, how you could even possibly…...possibly end this.

It takes all of your composure, all of your inner strength to smile at him, even if it’s strained. “Why would I be?”

“That’s right. That’s my girl.” Jimin kisses your lips briefly, smacking his mouth on yours, smiling against your skin as he pulls away. “Love you.”

The door slams as he leaves. Gone. You’re by yourself, holding onto your stomach as your baby stirs inside. “Love you too….”

You don’t buy it.

Not one bit.

And you never thought the day would arrive when Jimin is tormenting you more than you are tormenting him. You’ve always worried that you were the one who would eventually wear down his spirit, that he would become broken by you, that one day he would look at himself in the mirror and hate himself, hate the life that he’s led. But you were mistaken.

It’s not like that at all.

You’re the one who’s being worn down.

*//*

“Yeah, she’s totally fucking someone.” Ye Eun is spiteful, loitering at the back of the Great Hall as you join her, crossing your arms.

“How do you know?”

“Just look at her. She’s smiling so much and her skin is glowing. Her cheeks are always rosy for a reason. She keeps batting her lashes back and forth too. It’s so obvious,” the Magical Creature Professor spits out. You take deep breaths, stroking your stomach, trying to not get an aneurysm. “It’s so unfair.”

“What are we talking about?” Taehyung joins with a rectangular grin, huddling up back with you like you’re in your sixth year sharing secrets and immaturely gossiping.

“Ryujin is sleeping with someone.”

“Oh?” Taehyung’s interest is piqued and his brow lifts. “Who?”

Ye Eun shrugs. “I don’t know.”

The Head of Gryffindor laughs heartily. “Well, if you don’t know then you shouldn’t spread rumours around.” He arrogantly walks off before shouting at a first year to be careful, right before they’re about to slip in the puddle of pumpkin juice they didn’t notice on the floor.

Ye Eun huffs out in annoyance. “Why is everyone taking her side?!”

You don’t know. But you do know one thing. You can’t just sit back and watch Jimin being stolen right from under your nose like this. You have to do something.

Slytherins are cunning and sneaky. You have come from a long lineage of Slytherins — you are surer than sure that it runs in your blood. You won’t be upstaged by some cutesy little witch who thinks she can come into Hogwarts and play dress up in someone else’s husband’s robes. This adrenaline and rush of confidence is all that fuels you as you casually take a seat opposite her, with Ye Eun filling in beside you.

“Ryujin, you have to let me know your skincare routine. You’re just glowing lately, even more so than I am, and I’m the one who’s pregnant!” You laugh a little louder than necessary, looking at Ye Eun. “Wouldn’t you say so, Ye Eun?”

“Oh, definitely,” Ye Eun nods as she takes a sip of her pumpkin juice.

The petite student teacher seems a little taken aback by your sudden compliment as she touches her cheek self-consciously, blushing a little as she does so. “Ah, really? You’re too kind, Professor _____.”

“Oh, no…just giving credit where credit is due,” you beam at her, reaching for your utensils to start digging into your food ravenously. “By the way, did you get those…bug bites on your neck cleared up at the infirmary the other day? They looked pretty serious…I hope you’re alright?”

Ye Eun immediately perks up at the mention of suspicious looking bites on Ryujin’s neck. Ryujin also seems to freeze on the spot, eyes darting back and forth between you and Ye Eun in a panic as she touches her neck.

“Bug bites? What kind of bug was it? I am in charge of Care of Magical Creatures, you know… maybe I can be of some help!” Ye Eun reaches for Ryujin’s collar and pulls it aside before the younger witch can flinch away.

Once Ye Eun catches a glimpse of the slightly faded bruises on her neck, she gasps, and you can barely keep your smirk at bay.

“Merlin! These are…these aren’t bug bites!” Ye Eun covers her mouth in shock before lowering her voice to a hiss. “These are hickies! Have you been…having relations with the other professors?”

“Re-really?” You pretend to be taken aback as well, and all this while Ryujin seems slightly uncomfortable. “Relations with colleagues? Ryujin, I don’t want to nag…but you know that’s inappropriate right? You just got here after all, and you wouldn’t want Headmaster Jeon finding out about this…would you?”

You’ve got that seductress right where you want her. You can see the panic in her eyes as she fumbles for a response, her knife and fork shaking in her grip as she sets it down.

“I… I’m…I wasn’t aware that it was inappropriate. I apologise,” she shifts her gaze to her plate in front of her, and you have to bring your goblet of pumpkin juice to your mouth for a sip to keep yourself from throwing it all over her face.

Unaware that it is inappropriate to flirt with someone else’s husband, sit in his lap, grind her ass against his dick? The nerve of this bitch.

But you can’t let her know she’s under your skin. Your Slytherin pride won’t allow it. So you smile at her politely. “You’re working so well at Hogwarts, it’ll be a shame if you had to leave early.”

Letting your unspoken threat hang in the air between you for a moment more, you take a final sip of your pumpkin juice and set your goblet down. “I forgot something in my room — I’ll see you in class, Ryujin!”

And then you walk away feeling as though you are on top of the world — having faced up to your problems instead of running away from them for once.

*//*

Ideally, things would improve from then on. Ryujin would get the message and back off. You and Jimin would enjoy the last few weeks you have here before going on maternity leave. Once you recover from the birthing process, you’ll have glorious sex again and also a chubby baby to love and coo over. But of course, nothing in life is perfect….or even remotely close to it.

Ryujin acts uncomfortable around you, the atmosphere between the two of you is awkward and stiff. Even after your threat to practically kick her out of Hogwarts if she continues seducing your husband, Ryujin doesn’t seem to get the message at all. It was like cotton was stuck in her ears and her mind is empty because she has the audacity to get even closer to your husband. Not only does it not stop, but it escalates.

Every chance that vixen gets, she puts on her shy and coy act, and she begins to call Jimin affectionately by his first name. They’re always giggling and laughing with each other, and she’s always staring at him from across the room. Her audacity leaves you dumbfounded, at a loss of what to do next.

Your glares and threats have no effect on her whatsoever.

And when you ask Jimin about it or try to bring it up, he always brushes you off.

The stress is beginning to drive you to the brink of insanity.

“The Draught of Peace is supposed to relieve anxiety and anxiousness. It is one of the most difficult potions to brew, so much so that three quarters of the class failed last year.” You pace between the desks and a Gryffindor in the back folds a note, ready to pass it to his friend. The tip of your wand pokes through your sleeve and one simple wave, the note has disintegrated into ash.

The giggles die down at your glare. “It is an advanced potion and requires more than just memorization and skill, but talent. Making one single mistake will have drastic consequences. For instance, adding too much ingredients will put the drinker into a permanent sleeping state that is irreversible. You will know if you brewed it correctly if there is a silvery vapour.”

“Now onto the ingredients.” You twist on your heel, facing all the students. “Pay attention because I’m only going to go over it once—”

You just can’t wrap your mind around how this happened. Since when did your communication with Jimin slip so far? What’s the real reason he won’t touch you anymore? Is he really having an affair with Ryujin? What exactly is he hiding from you?

“Professor?” Yoongi raises his hand with a lifted eyebrow.

“Uh-...yes?”

“You were saying something?” the Slytherin questions and the rest of the kids look up at you, waiting. There are tens of eyes pinpointed on your face and you stand completely still.

What were you saying?

A palm pressed to your forehead, you attempt to maintain a calm facade, but it’s quickly slipping. In the middle of lecture, your mind races and don’t have a shred of recollection on what you were just discussing. If Yoongi’s here then this is a fifth-year class. That means you were either discussing the Calming Draught or the Invigorating Draught. Unless it was the Strengthening Solution….

You’re losing it. And you can feel it — you’re on the verge of a mental breakdown…

“What Professor _____ is waiting for, is for you all to flip to the correct textbook page.” Ryujin steps in with a flawless smile. She glances at you and nods, striding forward while the students open their textbooks hastily. “You will need powdered moonstone, syrup of hellebore, and powdered unicorn horn as well as powdered porcupine quills. As usual, all of these materials will be provided to you, but if you need more to make it again, there is a limit of one hundred grams per person as these are very expensive ingredients. Please use them with care.”

“Earlier in the semester, all of you have written twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone. I am aware that the lovely Professor Park has also had a few lessons on Hellebore and its poisonous effects. This is the time we are finally going to use that information.” She smiles towards every student. “See? Everything we teach ends up connecting together.”

All of the students smile back at her. You hate this. You detest losing control of yourself, you despise how your brain cannot organize itself and you loathe the way you’re being replaced right in front of your eyes in all aspects of your life — from your marriage to your career.

You can see it right in front of your eyes. Like a vision flashing itself beneath your lids. It’s her and not you. It’s her that became Potions Master all those years ago, her that became acquainted with Jimin, that dated him for a year and half before becoming engaged.

If you weren’t in the picture, Jimin would’ve married her. Not you.

“Umm…..Professor?”

Your trance is snapped and you turn. “Yes?”

But the student isn’t talking to you. It’s Ryujin that everyone looks at. “How can I help you?”

“In the textbook, it says that it needs to be stirred seven times. Both clockwise and then counter-clockwise. Does that mean a total of fourteen times or in that seven we alternate between both directions?”

“That’s a very good question,” she praises and makes the girl gleam. “Let me address the entire class.”

*//*

“There you are.” The door creaks open, your husband entering with a smile. His visage is illuminated by the few candles surrounding the table you’re working out with the books sprawled all out. “I was looking for you everywhere.”

“Oh so you’re suddenly so concerned about me?” You sass him, but without any malice in your voice.

Jimin scoffs and comes over to hug you. His arms wrap around your torso, hands sprawled on your swollen stomach and he plants a kiss on your shoulder. “Why are you so sulky?”

You sigh, melting into his embrace. “I don’t know.”

“Is Sapling bothering you?” Jimin matches your pout when you turn around to face him. “If they keep kicking you, I’ll threaten to tickle them.”

As annoyed as you’ve been with him, you can’t resist the smile that spreads across your face. You’ve been missing him. “But then you’re tickling me.”

“It’s a win-win situation.”

“No, it’s not!” you laugh, feeling better already. “I was just finishing some stuff.”

“Don’t work too hard. You have a good excuse to take it easy.”

You hum a low note, staring at him with the flicker of the candles casting their warm light. The rest of the classroom is quiet and dark. The moment is intimate and you reach over, hugging your husband. There’s a space between your bodies, the watermelon size of your belly preventing you getting too close, but you try your best, eyes shut, grasping onto him tightly.

“What’s wrong?” His hands slowly wrap around your shoulders.

“Nothing.”

No matter how firmly you hold onto him, it feels like he’s still slipping away from you, and you are growing more and more desperate.

“Doesn’t seem like nothing.” You can feel Jimin’s smile and he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before brushing away a few strands of your hair from your face. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Jimin…” You lock your gaze into his. “Let me suck you off.”

“Wait...what?!” He watches how you get onto your knees. It’s a bit of a struggle when your center of balance has changed, but you manage, despite Jimin trying to pull you up. “Baby—”

You tug the zipper of his pants, palming his front boldly. It’s miraculous that he’s already slightly hard and you look up at him past your lashes. Jimin swallows hard and his adam’s apple bobs.

“I’ll make you feel really good, I promise. I just really want to taste you again, Jimin. You already got your kid in me, now let me swallow some more.” It’s pathetic how desperate you are. A year ago, there had to be a lot of persuasion to get you on your knees. Now, you’d even drop down onto the cold forbidden forest floor if it means you can get one suck of his thick cock. “Please?”

“I—” He’s at a loss for words and you don’t wait, tugging his pants down. You palm him harder, practically salivating and drooling as you imagine the heavy weight on your tongue, the saltiness of his precum on your tastebuds. But Jimin holds the waistband of his underwear, not letting you pull it down. He grabs the scrap of fabric in his fist, holding it on for dear life. “T-this is inappropriate, _____.”

“No, it’s not,” you sputter. “We’ve done it before and no one’s around right now.”

“Doesn’t change that it’s wrong.” Jimin pulls up his pants again and tries to support you onto your feet again, but you struggle against his hands, staying down on your knees.

“Why won’t you let me suck you off?!” The harsh whispers leaves you in a fury. The last thing you want is prefects to wander and investigate the noises, but it’s difficult to keep your voice down.

“Why are you so insistent on it?”

“Because we haven’t had sex for nearly six months, Jimin!” you spit out the cold facts at him. “What the hell is wrong with you?!”

“Is it so wrong that I just don’t feel like it?” Jimin spits back, his usually amiable features twisted in what seems like…anger?

“Yes! For you it is. You usually can’t keep your hands off of me!”

Jimin is frustrated and he runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back. “Just get up!”

“Fine, I’ll stop!” You’re annoyed, sad, but most of all humiliated that you have to rely on him to help you onto your feet. Jimin has a prolonged stare at your swollen stomach, swallowing hard again, and you burn in embarrassment. If he hates you and your child so much, then he shouldn’t have impregnated you in the first place. “If I’m so disgusting and unattractive that you won’t even let me anywhere near your dick — I’ll just go and leave you in peace then.”

You struggle to your feet — completely ignoring Jimin’s attempts to help as you shove him away, half in tears, half in anger. With one hand on your belly, you swipe at your cheeks impatiently as you exit the classroom amidst your husband’s panicked pleas for you to stay. With your wand, you cast a temporary locking spell on the door that will allow you to get down the hallway without him following you.

Your shared room feels bigger, emptier without Jimin. The bed is colder no matter how many warming spells you cast, and without the weight of his familiar body beside you, you can’t fall asleep. Tears have stained your cheeks for the past few hours already, it is now well into the night, but Jimin hasn’t come back to your room. With every second that passes, it feels as if you are being suffocated even as the vast emptiness of the room mocks your loneliness.

Even the baby inside you has gone to sleep, so you are completely, utterly alone.

*//*

Jimin feels like his knees are going to give out at any moment. This is not how he envisioned married life — things should have been perfect. With a baby on the way to celebrate your love, the relationship between the two of you should be stronger than ever. Instead, it’s in shambles; somehow he managed to hurt the very person he was trying so hard to protect all this while.

He lets himself sink down onto the cold floor of the classroom. Watching you struggle with the pregnancy the past few months has taken a toll on him too — not only does it hurt his heart to see the love of his life in pain or uncomfortable, it also pains him that he can’t take care of your needs properly. Every time you ask him to have sex, he has to physically restrain himself from giving in for fear that he wouldn’t be able to stop himself if he gives in to his urges.

Fuck, even thinking about you now has his dick half-hard again; Jimin thinks he must be a monster. A disgusting piece of dragon dung, a poor, sorry excuse for a husband who can’t keep his sexual urges at bay, a husband who looks at his wife and baby with a lustful gaze. Merlin, he doesn’t deserve to have you.

He pushes himself off the floor, willing his erection to go away as he tries to unlock the door once more. You must have put some kind of temporary locking spell on it, for now it opens easily and he steps out into the hallway, utterly at a loss of what to do. The past few nights, you’ve been sleeping less and less, and Jimin feels even worse when he thinks about how he can fall asleep so easily as compared to you. All the more reason why he shouldn’t go back to your shared room tonight, right? The sight of him would most likely enrage you further, and that isn’t good for the baby. He should find somewhere else to sleep tonight.

Walking with his half hard erection between his legs, Jimin sighs. He’ll have to take care of his urges in some other manner.

*//*

A whimper leaves the back of her throat and Ryujin pushes him away, hands on his firm chest. Heaving breaths leave her swollen lips and she shakes her head. “T-T-This is so wrong. I-it’s so wrong. You have a wife!”

His office is dark, only a few candles on the shelves casting their warm glow. The door is locked and she’s leaning back on his desk as his front presses against hers. “You didn’t think it was wrong when you rubbed your ass all over my cock,” Jimin mutters, catching her lips one more time.

He kisses her harshly, with teeth and passion as if trying to rid of his lustful urges and use her as his cum rag. Jimin’s arms snake around her frame, hands coming to palm her round ass and he feels up against her sides. He’s a dog in heat and Ryujin gives in, palms on his shoulders, moaning into the kiss and allowing him to rut against her. His hot tongue slips into the seams of her mouth, saliva making a mess.

Ryujin is moaning as she throws her head back to give him more access to her neck. On the corner of her lips is tiny little smirk, for she has achieved what she was out to get all along. She’s sick and tired of playing the innocent act.

Jimin pushes her further and things start to fall off the desk. Books, parchment, and quills tumble to the floor, but he has no regard. When he parts from her, his pupils are blown out in lust.

“Jimin….”

He hates the way she calls his name. He hates looking at her. So, he spins her around, pinning her against his wooden desk, bending her over. Jimin presses his covered cock against the crevice of her ass and hastily, he pushes her skirt up over her waist. Her white panties have a wet patch and he doesn’t waste time, tugging his trousers down.

Jimin’s hands find purchase on her hips, his cock still covered by his own underwear, but it doesn’t stop him from rubbing himself onto her, up and down, side to side, between the cheeks of her ass. Hot breaths leave his mouth and she moans at the feeling, pushing herself back onto him.

“You think I wouldn’t notice, slut?” He slaps her ass with his palm, the strike reddening her flesh and causing her to yelp. “Staring at me across the room….touching me all the time…” Jimin spanks her again, harder, and he watches the flesh jiggle before rubbing the spot and soothing it with his touch. “You even dare sit on my lap and rub your ass all over me in front of my wife.”

He spits it out, angered. Jimin’s hands skim up Ryujin’s body to her blouse and he tugs the buttons, pulling the fabric roughly. His hands snake past her bra, strap falling, and he squeezes her breast. Jimin rubs her nipple before it pebbles and he pinches, listening to her gasp and watching the pretty way she arches her back into him. He groans, pressing his cock closer to her ass and covered pussy. Her cotton panties are completely drenched like she pathetically wet herself.

“Fuck,” he groans, shutting his eyes. “An accident? Yeah, right.”

“I...I’m sorry…” Ryujin moans, pushing herself back onto him. He pinches her nipple again, squeezing and playing with it while pushing his entire body against her. Jimin’s warm breath skims against the back of Ryujin’s neck and he sucks the supple flesh, tainting pristine skin with a purple hickey.

“Do you know how much shit she’s been giving me because of you?”

The fox smirks, pushing herself against him again, her core clenching. She lets him rub his cock all over her ass and she cranes her head around to stare at him. Jimin’s jaw clenches when their eyes lock and he spanks her again. Ryujin grips the edge of the desk, whimpering at the pain that feels too good. She arches her ass for his viewing pleasure, letting his lustful eyes run over every inch of her delicate, petite body and fully enjoying it.

“Bet you want her to walk in on us right now, huh? You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Trying to destroy my marriage, slut?” Everything was perfect before she came along. It only took a flutter of her lashes and a few sly touches until he couldn’t resist anymore. She had been out from the start to be a homewrecker. And it only pisses him off when she gives a hum of agreement.

“Doesn’t my body look so beautiful, Professor Park? Aren’t I just perfect? Sometimes, I feel sorry for you, you know,” Ryujin sighs in mock pity. “Having to stare at your whale of a wife. How do you satisfy your urges when she asks you to? Do you fuck her and think of me instead?”

Jimin can’t take it and he pulls down the last remaining piece of clothing on him. His red cock springs free, precum leaking at the tip, and he pulls her underwear to the side. The young student teacher sighs, finally getting what she wants, eager to feel his cock, but instead, he plunges her fingers into her leaking pussy.

Ryujin cries out, pushing back on him and Jimin curls up his knuckles.

“Tell me what you want, slut,” he demands, feeling how tight and wet she is, practically sucking his fingers up.

“I...I want your cum, please, Jimin.” She becomes even more desperate when he begins to rub the head of his thick cock all over her slit while his fingers scissor her as if working to make room for him. “Please!”

Jimin swallows hard, unable to fight back his animalistic urges. “W-what makes you think I’ll give it to you?”

Ryujin is crying out, tears beginning to leak from her eyes. Her hair is in a disarray, no longer in a neat bun, strands falling in front of her face. Her blouse is wrinkled, bra shoved up, skirt around her waist. It’s obscene, dirty, and so entirely wrong, but she’ll do anything. “I...I’ll be g-good from now on….promise.”

He pulls his fingers out. She cries from the loss. But Jimin has his hand in her hair, yanking her to stand straight, flush against him. He mutters in spite, “I don’t think you’re capable.”

Ryujin is silent for a moment, which takes Jimin by surprise as he shoves his fingers deeper into her tight cunt. Then finally, she turns her head toward him, a demure yet sly smile on her lips. “You’ll give it to me because I’m the only one who can satisfy your nasty, animalistic needs. You think your wife’s loose, stuffed pussy can hug your cock the way mine can? Go ahead. Try it for yourself, and then you can tell me whether my pussy is better than your wife’s.”

Jimin shoves her against his desk, hitching one leg up on the surface. And he plunges his red cock into her weeping pussy. She holds her breath before whimpering at the stretch and he groans, slowly sinking in to savour the feeling. Once he’s balls deep, his hands hold her hips and he begins to fuck into her, deep and leisurely strokes. He shuts his eyes, immersing himself into the clench and his hand lifts, pushing back his hair out of his face.

“Please…” Broken words fall from the pretty girl’s delicate lips. Her toes curl, teeth sinking into her bottom lip, hands gripping the farthest edge of the desk. “Jimin. Want you to cum inside me.”

As she begs, he begins to pick up the pace. “So you can become pregnant too?”

“You’d like that right, baby?” Ryujin is moaning and panting, breasts bouncing obscenely from his thrusts. “I can promise you I’ll let you fuck me as hard as you want even when I’m pregnant. I’ll be so much better than your wife.”

He scoffs. “We’ll see about that.”

Jimin loves it, the way he’s absolutely defiling this pretty girl. No one would ever suspect it. In the morning, when everyone gathers around the Great Hall and she soaks up the praise of the other professors, seventh year students who chase after her skirt, but only he will have the pleasure of knowing that he was the one to fuck her. She always flashes the same smile, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear innocently. They all think she’s some shy virgin who’s never even been kissed or even held.

But Ryujin is a dirty whore.

She’s a temptress and Jimin’s just putting her in her place. If you knew, you’d be sympathetic. You’d understand. After all, how could you resist? And you’re pregnant with his child. He couldn’t possibly fuck you like this, or at least the way he wants to — hard and rough.

Just because he fucks someone on the side doesn’t mean he loves you any less.

“J-Jimin…” The vixen can feel him all the way to her throat. It’s a deeper angle than the times before when he spread and tied her up on her bed, when he tackled her on the floor of the greenhouse. She’s never felt him so raw and intimately like this before. “I-it’s t-too much.”

“Take it, bitch.” His fingers dig into the meat of her thighs, leaving their marks as he hikes her higher on his desk. “You asked for it.”

Jimin fucks her raw and harshly. She’s just a toy. It means nothing to him.

“Louder! You want everyone to know, don’t you?!”

Sobs of his name befall her pretty lips. She pushes back onto him, meeting his strokes. Her ass bounces every time he shoves himself back inside her. Ryujin begins to lose strength in her legs, but Jimin shoves her thighs apart again. “Spread your legs, doll. It’s the only thing you’re good at doing.”

Any guilt he feels, he shoves it down, fucking it into her. He expels his pent-up emotions, the fear of being a father, of commitment, of giving up his career for a family. Jimin’s sick and tired of wearing the same Hufflepuff smile, of pushing down his lust for the past six months. He finally releases it all, vigorously pounding into the temptress who trembles beneath him.

It’s dirty and disgusting. This is where students sit down with him, asking about homework or inquiring about class. Now he’s sure when he sees his desk again, he’ll see the girl spread out for him, her cunt leaking all over his cock and balls.

“I’ll shove my thick cock down your throat the next time you try to flirt with me, dirty whore.”

“Can’t help it,” she moans, hoping he’ll go faster and even harder, that he’ll mark her all up in fingerprint bruises and hickies, that he’ll cum deep into her womb. “Y-you’re mine.”

“What makes you think I’ll be yours, huh?” Jimin puts his hand into her hair, tugging on strands again, causing her to moan, ruining her dainty, little voice.

Ryujin has her cheek against the desk, wincing at the pain as Jimin fucks her hard enough to bruise her cervix. But the delicious stretch of feeling his cock ram into her pussy makes it all worth it. And the thought that Jimin has chosen her over his wife sends triumph soaring through her veins. “Because you’ll come back again and again for this tight little pussy. And you’ll come inside it every time too. It won’t be long till you fuck a baby into me. I got you now, Park Jimin. You’re mine.”

Jimin grunts hard as he ignores the truth in her words, instead focusing his energy into perfecting every thrust so that he bottoms out as deep as possible. “Next time you piss my wife off,” the low whisper rumbles between the four walls of his office, “I’ll break you. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for a month.”

Jimin spits into his hand. He rubs it on her ass and dips his hands into his own saliva, drenching the pad of his fingers to come around and rub her clit hard and quick. He flicks his wrist and there are cries and sobs of his name that echo out for the whole castle to hear. Ryujin finally cums, clenching around him, and Jimin gives three more strokes, milking her orgasm until he cums deep into her pussy.

He falls over her, cum leaking out onto his cock again and he makes sure to give a few shallow strokes, stuffing it deep inside her to keep until the next time they mess around again.

You scream.

Your body jolts. In a cold sweat, clothes sticking to your drenched skin, you wake up in the darkness. You haul yourself up to the best of your abilities, hyperventilating, hand on your chest where your heartbeat thunders in mortification and fear. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen. It didn’t happen.

It was a nightmare. You were just dreaming again. Your mind and subconscious are making things up because of your stress and deepest fears. It was a nightmare.

You repeat it over and over again, murmuring under your breath, arms holding yourself. You rock back and forth until your breathing steadies. But when you look beside you, the bed is empty. Your husband isn’t here.

You end up crying yourself to sleep again.

*//*

When you wake, Jimin still hasn’t come back.

Everything aches. Although it’s not new to you at this stage in your pregnancy, you are more tired than ever. You practically slept less than an hour last night, nightmare after nightmare plaguing you, and everything is starting to take its toll.

You get dressed, feeling an urge to escape from the dark, empty bedroom to somewhere else that doesn’t remind you of your husband. It’s way too early for anyone else to be awake, but luckily a kind house elf from the kitchens brings you your latest craving of fried chicken and nonalcoholic butterbeer that you decide to bring to your office and stuff your face with.

When all else fails, food is the one and only consolation you have.

The warm paper bag emanates a deliciously tempting smell as you waddle toward your office, taking solace in the quiet and peaceful hallways. Even the ghosts aren’t out and about yet, so you feel no shame in stuffing a huge bite of chicken into your mouth as you approach your office. On the way, you have to pass by Jimin’s office, and you have to physically restrain yourself from bursting through the door to see if he really slept inside, or...

You can’t help but pause at his door, pressing your ear to the wood to try and discern whether he’s in or not. But then, a loud slam nearly makes you choke on your warm mouthful, but what you hear next makes you want to throw everything up.

“Oh M-merlin, harder! Give it to me harder!!” It is a familiar voice. It is light and tinkling, and it could only belong to one person.

Your dream flashes across your mind once more. Visions of naked sweaty bodies, Jimin’s vivid purple hair. You remember the way Ryujin was sitting on his lap that time you walked in on them — are they in the same position now? Or is Jimin taking her from behind, pounding into her pert ass as he bends her over his table? Would he paint her face with his cum like he used to do with you, or would he opt to cum all over her pretty pussy instead? You know Jimin likes seeing his cum on your body. Is he marking Ryujin’s slender, petite body with his cum this very instant?

Or maybe he’s giving her a baby too?

The thought makes you want to throw up, and you are physically unable to throw open the door and confront them. You are weak. The gruff moans continue to leak from the bottom crack of the door. The sound of whimpers, gasps, and obscene noise of wet skin slapping on skin echos into your ears. You’re frozen in your spot, feet rooted in the ground. And as your hand wraps around the brass doorknob—

“Professor _____?

You’re interrupted, body whipping around to Seokjin walking towards you with rounded eyes. “Is everything alright?”

“I….I’m fine.” You walk away from Jimin’s office and the Hufflepuff third year stops, turning to follow you. You quickly cast a wandless Muffliato Charm on Seokjin to distract him from the obscene sounds that are coming from Jimin’s office. “What are you doing awake so early? D-did you finish your essay yet?”

“No, oops.” Seokjin gives a sheepish grin and shrugs. You keep your eyes trained forward, stumble towards your own office. Before you can shut the door, you look down to the student. “I was investigating. You know that there has been several break-ins into all the offices lately?”

“Oh. Really? I… I didn’t know that,” you answer weakly as you begin to stride toward your office, feeling the eager young boy’s eyes on you. “Look, Seokjin, if there’s nothing you need, I need to finish my lesson plans.”

“Okay.” He smiles, bidding farewell and you close the door behind you and sink down onto your chair, bursting into tears almost immediately.

*//*

All through class, you can’t concentrate. Whether it’s the looming due date of your baby or the thought that you might as well be a single mother now, it distracts you so much that you have to take a break in the middle of class and excuse yourself so that you don’t break down in front of the students.

It’s one of your last few classes before you go on maternity leave. Earlier on you made a list of things to address with them before you hand them over to Ryujin, but it all seems meaningless now. The students seem to sense that you are in a worse mood than usual, so they are on their best behaviour, not a single toe out of line.

Taehyung stops you as you’re walking to the Great Hall for lunch. He seems to be in a good mood these days as he falls into step beside you, a wide square grin on his face, and there is a skip in his step.

“Stop showing off, would you? How nice it must be to have all that mobility,” you grumble at him, not in the mood to talk to anyone at all. But then going back to your shared room with Jimin would only make things worse, so you decide that you need to surround yourself with people right now.

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who decided to get knocked up,” Taehyung shrugs happily. “Blame your husband.”

“This isn’t the only thing he needs to be blamed for,” you mumble under your breath as Taehyung opens the doors for you and you head straight for the Professors’ table. Upset or not, grieving or not, the baby inside you doesn’t seem to care as it demands its daily sustenance. Your stomach is growling as you sit down and get ready to tuck into your meal.

Taehyung sits beside you and stuffs a large bread roll into his mouth before he speaks. “Hey, d’you wanna know something interesting? I did a reading on your baby. And from the looks of that, I think you’re going to need this.”

With a wave of his wand, a Gryffindor scarf appears around your neck, and you yank it off as if its diseased, tossing it to the floor in irritation. “A scarf? Why would I need that?”

“Not just any scarf, it’s a Gryffindor scarf,” Taehyung emphasises with a toothy grin on his face as he butters another roll. “I have this strong hunch that your baby is a Gryffindor.”

You only scoff in disgust at him as you match him with another bread roll stuffed into your mouth. “Why tell me something as useless as that? If you have that much time to be doing extra work, why don’t you tell me the gender of my baby instead?”

Taehyung starts to cut into the grilled salmon on his plate. “Oh…um, I haven’t learned how to do that yet.”

Despite yourself, you laugh at him as you take a sip of your pumpkin juice. But then, you realised who just entered the Great Hall — it’s a purple haired wizard and a young female professor. They are walking down the aisle, strides matching each other perfectly, looking like a blissful picture perfect couple as they beam at each other.

Nausea immediately slams into your gut, and you put your knife and fork down, pushing yourself up from your seat as Taehyung glances at you. “I think- I think I’m done with my food.”

“Great, then can I have the rest—”

But just as you’re about to leave the table, Jimin rushes up to you and stops you with a hand on your arm, gently leading you back to your seat. There is a sorrowful look on his face as he glances at your worn out expression, and guilt overwhelms him at the sight of you being so visibly upset because of him.

“_____… stay here and finish your food. I’ll leave instead, so just…eat up. You and the baby need it.” Jimin gently helps you back into your seat, and you reluctantly let him, glancing behind him at Ryujin who hesitates for a second before she moves to the other end of the table instead.

Back in your seat, Jimin places your knife and fork into your hand before he smiles sadly and turns to leave. Although your appetite is almost gone now, the baby still demands more food, and you can only watch your husband’s departing back as you put another forkful of food into your mouth, but it might as well be sawdust.

*//*

The nightmares don’t stop coming. In fact, they get more and more sordid with every night that your husband doesn’t return to your shared quarters. One night, Jimin is punishing Ryujin for her slutty, whorish behaviour. Another, he is deeply in love with her, begging her to have his baby instead and plotting to run away from Hogwarts.

The baby inside you shifts, as if sensing your depressed mood, and you smooth a hand over your belly. This is a moment that you and Jimin should be witnessing together. He should be in bed with you right now, pressing his ear to your belly and listening to the baby, singing songs to lull it to sleep when it kicks one too many times.

“I only have you now, right?” You whisper to the child inside you.

Taehyung has caught on to the icy atmosphere between you and Jimin lately, after what happened at lunch. But you refused to divulge any of the details to him for fear of breaking down in front of him, Merlin forbid. For now, you tell yourself, you just have to focus on the baby. Just get through these last torturous weeks by yourself, birth the baby, and then maybe you can go back to your parents and spend a few months there or something.

Just one step at a time. You calm yourself down with deep breaths, picking up your wand to cast a simple spell to conjure up a flock of birds that surround you with their cheerful song, flitting around back and forth. The background noise sets you at ease, and the room doesn’t feel so quiet anymore.

You have an established routine now. Go to bed alone, try to fall asleep for a few hours, end up getting at most two hours of shut-eye, wake at dawn, and go to your office to prepare for class. Throwing yourself into your work has been one of the more effective strategies of distracting yourself, your first love of Potions has always comforted you and reminded you of how capable you are as an individual. You can do this. You don’t need some cheating scumbag of a husband.

This morning as you walk to your office, the castle feels colder than usual, and you wrap your cloak around yourself tighter. Jimin’s office is, thankfully, quiet this morning and you breathe a silent sigh of relief. Not that it gives you any concrete reason to be relieved, as he could just as easily be fucking her in her bed, of all places, but you push the nauseating thought aside.

But as you approach your office, your stomach sinks and your heart nearly stops in your chest. The haunting, now familiar sounds of moaning and skin slapping against skin assault you once more, and this time you can’t tell if you’re dreaming, or if this is actually reality.

“Oh, harder, fuck, please, that’s so good,” Ryujin’s voice rings out loud and clear as she screams in pleasure. Accompanying male grunts follow, and she moans again. “Shit, yes, I— I want your cum, please cum inside me! I’ll- I’ll keep it all in my pussy like a good girl. Please—”

This has gone on for far too long. You have tolerated their shameless adulterous ways all this while. If Jimin wants to satisfy his urges with a younger, prettier and sexier witch, you can’t stop him. If he values your marriage so little that he’s willing to throw away both your baby and your future together, then you can’t stop him from making that choice, it’s all on Jimin. But what you won’t tolerate is this blatant disrespect for your personal, private space.

“Oh Merlin, fuck, you’re so good, so— fucking good, ahhh I’m gonna cum, gonna cum!”

A muscle in your cheek twitches. Your fist clenches.

Using your wand, you blast open the door with a Repelling Charm, hoping that the splinters get lodged in a very painful and unfortunate place for the both of them. The smoke from your spell clears up and enough is enough. Without a second to waste, you begin to scream “Jimin! What the fuc—!”

There’s a high-pitched shriek that comes from her. There’s a deep yell that comes from him.

Ryujin is bent over your desk, getting her brains fucked out and being pounded into, naked from her waist down.

But it’s not Jimin at all.

“_____?” At the sound of the familiar voice, your head turns, frozen in your spot.

Your husband is striding down the hall with Namjoon in tow, the two men quickening their pace to see what’s going on. His eyes are rounded with surprise and you whip your head back. What the hell?

The smoke has cleared. The air is crisp. “Stop staring!”

Kim Taehyung is still balls deep in the pretty young witch.

He panics, a deer in headlights, and he pulls out of Ryujin immediately, but his dick remains hard. Ryujin finally regains her senses and realises what’s going on in front of her fucked out face. The sweaty, younger witch still looks like a million Galleons even with strands of hair all over the place, her lipstick smeared on her lips and mascara running down her cheeks. Her eyes are widened with terror as she stares at you and her jaw drops to the ground.

“P-Professor _____! I— I’m so sorry, I don’t know what to say…” she stumbles over her words as she pushes herself into a standing position, forcing Taehyung to take a step back as he tucks his slowly wilting dick back into his pants. “It was—”

“What’s going on here?” Namjoon finally makes it to the doorway and when he looks inside, his eyes become owlish and he quickly looks away. “Merlin’s beard, what the fuck, Taehyung!”

The ache in your temples is growing more and more pronounced as your brain struggles to comprehend all this information. You press a hand to your forehead and blow out a sigh. “For Merlin’s sake, fucking get dressed, both of you.”

The couple scrambles to get all their articles of clothing in order— Ryujin has to summon her bra and panties from a faraway bookshelf, and you make a personal note to yourself to replace every book on that shelf, together with the shelf as well.

Jimin catches up, not bothering to see what’s going on. He automatically looks at you with his hand on your arm. “Are you alright?! Did you get hit by any splinters?”

“I-I’m fine.” You lean into your husband for support, barely able to get your words out.

Ryujin is mortified to death, apologizing every step of the way despite Taehyung insists that it’s not her fault. Namjoon is prepared to blast his eyeballs with an Aguamenti Spell to cleanse them and Jimin is as horrified as you are. It’s only until they’re finally fully clothed again that Taehyung becomes tired of the overdramatic reaction.

He rolls his eyes and reaches to grab Ryujin’s hand, making a bold proclamation of love despite her flushing from her chin to her hairline, “C’mon, we’re all adults here. Is it that difficult to believe we’ve been fucking ever since she got here?!”

*//*

It’s a private emergency meeting.

Everyone involved in the mess is gathered around the table inside the Headmaster’s office, seated in uncomfortable chairs. Jeongguk is in front while you’re beside Jimin. Across from you is Ryujin and Taehyung, respectively, and Namjoon has reluctantly taken a seat beside your husband.

It’s dead silent. The clock on the wall ticking back and forth is excruciatingly slow.

The student teacher witch is mortified and embarrassed, unable to look at anyone in the eye. Beside her Taehyung wears a blank expression, looking around the office, and Jimin is amused with his friend, a slight smile gracing his features. Jeongguk and Namjoon are unimpressed while your own mind is boggling.

There is silence….

Until the young Headmaster breaks it, a strained voice that’s all too stressed emitting from his throat, “since when did this start?”

“The night she first got here.”

Everyone except for the two on trial are surprised. Namjoon’s brown raises. “That early?”

“What can I say? I make my moves fast.” Taehyung smirks until Ryujin sends him a pouty glare that begs him to have mercy on her.

Wait a minute…..

Your mind flashes to the bruises you had seen on her neck. While you had assumed she got them at the greenhouse after paying a visit to Jimin, it’s entirely possible that she had them before that and you simply didn’t notice. “Then those hickies...?”

The witch turns to you with wide eyes and she swallows hard. On the other hand, Taehyung grins proudly, happy that someone noticed he made his mark. “You saw those?”

“Taehyung,” Jeongguk warns in a lower voice that this isn’t a joking manner.

The Divinations master mumbles a half-hearted— “sorry.”

In the meanwhile, your childish husband is holding back amused giggles and he’s reminded of an incident a few weeks ago. He turns towards Ryujin, all too curious. “Is this why you asked me for Hufflepuff robes? I was wondering why you returned them freshly washed.”

She doesn’t answer, flushing even more, and Taehyung clears his throat. “That might be my fault. I may or may not have missed my aim…..several times.”

“Oh for fuck’s sakes.” You pinch the bridge of your nose, taking control of the interrogation and inquiring what you’ve been itching to know. “Why my office?”

“We, uh….well...that...” Taehyung laughs awkwardly. “That might be my fault too. I wanted us to fuck in every Professor’s office before her temporary teaching stint was over. Yours was the last one.”

“Wait.” Your hands raise, palms out, asking him to slow down. “So the other day, what I heard from Jimin’s office was you two?!”

Ryujin has her eyes shut tight. “I’m sorry!”

“You fucked in my office?” Jimin has his mouth drawn open and you don’t know if he’s disgusted or genuinely impressed. Taehyung smirks at his friend.

Namjoon groans. “No wonder my stuff was rearranged so weirdly. And there was a horrid smell…Headmaster Jeon, can I have a new office please?”

“You two are the ones who have been breaking into professor’s offices?!” Jeongguk is leaning back, staring at the ceiling, in a state of disbelief and you wonder if he’s going to pass out.

“Mystery solved,” Taehyung responds with a smile.

“What would’ve happened if instead of _____, a student walked in on you?!” The Headmaster rubs his temples, thrown in absolute hysterics. You haven’t seen him this stressed out since he was put into this position at Hogwarts. Or maybe since your body switch fiasco with Jimin. “Oh Merlin. What about the rumours?! What if a ghost or someone in a painting witnessed it?! What would happen to our reputation if it was posted in The Daily Prophet?! How would I deal with the outcry of the parents?! Couldn’t you have at least done it in your private quarters?!”

“I’m sorry,” Ryujin apologizes again and lifts her head. “I know I just got here and I’m already causing trouble for you.”

“It’s not her fault,” Taehyung quickly intervenes. “It was me who insisted on it and planned the entire thing. It was just a stupid thing on my bucket list. If you need to punish anyone, then punish me, not her.”

Jeongguk gives up.

It’s goes eerily quiet again.

He laces his fingers together and inhales a deep breath. “Did you mess around in my office?”

It’s silent. The silence stretches on. And on.

Jeongguk lifts himself up. He looks at Ryujin who has diverted her gaze elsewhere. Then, he looks at Taehyung who is bold, staring. The two males lock their eyes together, simply glaring into each other’s pupils as if they are sharing a telepathic message. The Headmaster swallows hard and a weak voice spills from his mouth, “Taehyung….”

He delivers the news solemnly, “I’m sorry.”

“Merlin!” His arms are up in the air. “No wonder my phoenix burst into ashes a week ago!”

“Why is this such a big deal?” Taehyung finally explodes himself and his hand extends across the table towards you. “These two messed around in my office before! Ever since they got married, they’ve been going at it like rabbits! That’s why she’s like that now!”

Taehyung gestures vaguely at you, his hand in an up and down motion that you suppose indicates your pregnant state. Your hackles start to rise in indignation.

“Th-that…” For once you’re left sputtering. Beside you, Jimin snorts, muttering something about how he’s not wrong there but shuts up when you send him a deathly glare.

Namjoon sighs for the hundredth time. Jeongguk pounds the table with his fist. “We have private quarters for a reason, people! I’m going to have to give a seminar on relationships, aren’t I? I thought this was all common sense!” Taehyung smirks again and it blows a gasket in Jeongguk’s head. “Don’t you have any shame?!”

“Why should I?” Taehyung catches her hand into his, lacing his fingers with her’s, and lifting their tightly held hands. “I’m in love with her!”

Ryujin’s eyes nearly fall out of her sockets at the bold proclamation. “Y-you’re in love with me?”

Taehyung moves fast indeed. It’s only been three weeks since she’s gotten here. Leaning back in your seat with a slight roll of your eyes, you are content to watch the drama unfold right in front of you.

“I’m in love with you,” he repeats in proud confidence, albeit his voice is quieter. They gaze into each other’s eyes, an intimate moment despite the predicament that they’re in. “From the moment I saw you. Most people think you’re just pretty, but to me you’re more than that. You’re sweet, funny, charming...I think you’re so passionate about what you do and that’s attractive to me. And I love you.”

It’s obvious how smitten she is as well, and the two of them gaze lovingly into each other’s eyes, completely in their own world. “Taehyung…”

While the rest of you are just gawking at the two of them. You are completely unimpressed, Jimin looks as if he is almost proud of his best friend, Namjoon looks like he has a splitting headache, and Jeongguk… well, he’s about to follow in his Phoenix’s footsteps. A part of you doesn’t actually believe that Taehyung can love someone long enough to be in an actual relationship, but if that’s a risk Ryujin is willing to take, you can’t say anything about it.

You turn your head, facing the Headmaster and you clear your throat to catch his attention, deciding to finally give your review of her. “Ryujin has demonstrated stellar performance. I believe she will make an excellent Potions Master here at Hogwarts. As long as she keeps her private matters private, I find no reason to extradite or punish her in any way.”

If you were frank with yourself, you felt a bit guilty.

It’s understandable that Ryujin would have never told you about her relationship with Taehyung. By the second day, you were already cold to her and distant. You told her off too, warning her not to have any relations with professors here. You would’ve saved yourself a lot of heartache if you didn’t have so many assumptions and biases or jumped to so many conclusions.

At the end of the day, Ryujin hasn’t done anything horribly wrong.

A grateful smile spreads across the young girl’s face, tearing up from your praise.

“I agree,” Jimin pipes up beside you, glancing at his best friend. “It’s easy to get caught up when you start a new relationship.”

Your husband gives you a knowing smile that makes your heart feel fuzzy.

“As irresponsible as you were….” Namjoon pushes up his spectacles, giving his own opinion as the Head of Ravenclaw, “no students had caught them. No one was harmed either. As long as they take appropriate precautions from here on out and are more aware of their surroundings, there’s no need to give them an unusually cruel punishment.”

All Jeongguk manages is a sigh.

*//*

At the end of the day, the pair of you are still baffled and in disbelief.

“Who knew…” Jimin’s arm is around your waist, supporting your weight as you waddle down the hallway. He hums after some consideration. “But now that I think about it, it does make sense. Every time she talked to me, it was always related to Taehyung one way or another. I think she was trying to squeeze information out of me. And here I thought I made a friend.”

He laughs and the two of you enter your quarters. You don’t say anything and he stands by the foyer after shutting the door. He calls your name. “Are you still upset with me? Do...you want me to go?”

You turn around, cradling your stomach in your hands. “Where have you been going at night?”

“I…” Jimin scratches the back of his neck. “I’ve been staying with Namjoon.”

You frown, not understanding. “Why?”

“I thought you didn’t want to see me. I felt bad that you were having a hard time and there was nothing I could do to help you. I thought it was better if I was gone.”

“So you’ve been staying with him?” You take a good look at Jimin and you wonder why you hadn’t noticed how exhausted he appears.

“Yeah and I’ve been talking to him a lot. Namjoon gives me a lot of insight.” He swallows hard. “I know this is pathetic, that’s why I didn’t want to tell you. But...I’ve been nervous about having the baby and the whole fatherhood thing. I know I don’t deserve to be as scared as you are and that I should be strong enough to support you but—”

You shake your head. “You’re an idiot.”

“What?”

“I thought you were cheating on me!” you shout at him in wrath, but you’re not angry at him.

You’re angry at yourself.

Jimin stands there, shocked at how you burst into tears. He follows after you when you waddle towards the bedroom and onto the bed, taking a seat and crying into your hands. “What?” He approaches you slowly and kneels in front of you. “How could I?”

“I don’t know! I thought you were sleeping with Ryujin and I’ve been getting these nightmares and then I wake up and you’re not there—”

“I’m sorry.” He comes to sit beside you, reaching over to hug you and you bury your face into his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I-....I didn’t know that’s how you felt.”

“You idiot.” You hit him again, deciding your fists are better than the numerous hexes you have swirling in the forefront of your mind. “I thought our relationship was over!”

“I’m sorry.”

You’re crying, the hormones taking over, the tsunami landing on your shoulders. All of your pent-up emotions come crashing down and your calm facade breaks. “It didn’t help that I heard noises from your office and I thought it was you and her. And it doesn’t help that you haven’t had sex with me for the past six and a half months either.”

Jimin grimaces and pulls away. He cradles your face, wiping your tears with the pad of his thumb, placating you. A tiny smile appears on his face. “Do you think I could run off with someone else when I have you and your gorgeousness? Hate to break it to you, but you’re already a handful for me. I love you and our baby too much to even think about anyone else.”

You huff out. “Then why haven’t you been touching me?”

Jimin sighs and decides to be honest. There’s no point in hiding things anymore when it’s all being out and the open now. It’s better to be ashamed than to create misunderstandings and stress you out. “Because I feel disgusted with myself.”

“What?”

“I feel gross,” he admits. “When I look at you...a normal person would want to take care of you. I know I should be soft and gentle and attentive…..but during your entire pregnancy, I really just wanted to fuck you all the time.”

He pulls himself away, downcasting his head and looking at his hands like he worries he’s a monster. “You are the mother of my child, and yet all I could think about was bending you over the nearest surface and fucking you senseless. So I had to stay away from you. I’m…..I’m an animal. I’m sorry.”

Jimin’s confession floors you, and you feel your heart skip a beat. “You mean…you mean you wanted to have sex with me the entire time? You weren’t disgusted with…with whatever this is?”

As you say this, you gesture to your large, inflated body, belly so swollen that it comes in between both of you, and you can’t even reach to kiss him.

It’s Jimin’s turn to be taken aback, and his eyes widen in realisation as he takes your hands into his, bringing it to his lips and kissing them repeatedly. “What? Baby, no, I would never! It’s been the exact opposite. You’re becoming more and more attractive and sexy to me each day, I could barely keep my hands off you, didn’t you notice? And my dick gets hard every time I see your swollen stomach, and that time when you woke up with your breasts leaking milk all over your shirt, I had to run to my garden and jack off all over my plants.”

Your husband is humiliated and he groans at the thought, repeating it in shame, “My plants!”

“But you said—” your breath hitches as Jimin runs his hand over your swollen stomach tenderly. “You wouldn’t even let me suck you off. I just…I just wanted to make you feel good, and I know how much you like getting your dick sucked. Before we got married you had to beg me for it. Remember?”

Jimin chuckles against your skin, his cheeks rounding out in the most adorable way ever. You hope your baby has the same chubby cheeks. “I remember. That night in the classroom you said you wanted to suck me off, I could barely control myself and I ended up coming all over a bush of roses. Fuck’s sake, I was worried I couldn't control myself. It took me so much willpower. If I had let your pretty little lips get anywhere near my dick, you would have been bent over the teacher’s desk and stuffed with cock the next moment.”

“I want it,” you cuddle closer to him, raising a thigh and sliding it over his hip so that he can feel your heated core. “I want to be stuffed with your cock.”

You can see the reluctance on his face once more, but things are different now that you know it’s because he’s afraid he can’t control himself, rather than not being attracted to you in your current condition. You reach up to cup his rounded cheek, comforting him with a gentle kiss against his lips.

“Baby, I trust you. You’re Park Jimin, my husband, the love of my life. You could never hurt me or the baby,” you pull away from him and kiss his nose instead, smiling at him. All this time, you thought you were the only one ridded with worries when it turns out Jimin might have been more anxious. You reassure him, “you’re not gross or disgusting or an animal. And I’m not putting up with it it for you either. You’re not forcing me. I’m not doing it to satisfy you either.”

You say it loud and clear for his two brain cells to understand, exasperated that you’ve missed out on six months of good sex just because Jimin was too sweet to ask you for anything. “I want it. You trust me, right? I’ll tell you if anything doesn’t feel good. I promise.”

Jimin strokes his thumb over your belly as he kisses your forehead. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. It’s nothing I can’t handle. I’m a Slytherin, you know.”

He grins, worries finally put more at ease. “You know that doesn’t mean anything to me. Just because you’re sorted into that house doesn’t make you any tougher. You’re still my soft and sweet wife. Need me to remind you how you cried at our wedding?”

Your mouth draws open. “I thought we weren’t going to ever talk about that again!”

Jimin laughs, leaning in to plant a chaste kiss on your lips. He seems eager as he gets onto his knees. “And you’re the most amazing woman I’ve ever known. On your back, baby. It’s long overdue, but I want to worship you like the goddess you are.”

He helps you flip onto your back and in a position where you’re comfortable. Jimin starts by kissing you deeply, his tongue stroking against yours in the most erotic manner that has you already moaning and writhing under him. You want to feel his tongue elsewhere. Jimin smirks at your impatience, letting his lips trail down to your neck as he seeks out your covered breasts.

You help him to pull down the low cut neck of your camisole so that he can suck a swollen, puffy nipple into his mouth, massaging the other breast gently with his hands. Jimin feasts on the sight of your soft, sensitive breasts, sucking the nipple in his mouth and flicking his tongue to tease you even more, feeling sweet liquid burst onto his tongue once more.

“Just as sweet as I remembered from last time,” Jimin grins cheekily at you as he licks his lips sinfully, moving to the other breast to give it the same treatment. When the sweet milk fills his taste buds once more, he closes his eyes to savour the sweetness of it, moaning around your nipple as he drinks from your breast greedily.

“Jimin, ahhh-” you gasp and moan at the feeling of him eagerly suckling at you. “Th-that’s for our baby, you jerk. He won’t have enough if you’re being this greedy.”

He pouts at you, but draws away from your breast to scatter kisses all over your swollen belly instead. His lips are soft and they feel good on your skin.

“You know, I heard semen helps with stretch marks,” Jimin raises his eyebrows in a perverted manner as he palms his cock boldly. “Would you want to test out that hypothesis with me? I gotta say, the thought of cumming all over your round belly has been a fantasy of mine for some time. I jerked off to it that night in the greenhouse.”

Trust your horndog of a husband to manage to be both romantic and greasy at the same time. But two can play at that game. You smile an equally cheesy smile at him as you spread your thighs for him, showing off the wet patch on your panties. “That can wait, baby. I’d rather you cum in my pussy instead.”

That’s all the invitation Jimin needs as he helps you to pull your panties down, witnessing how your sticky juices cling to the crotch of your underwear in strings. He brings the saturated crotch to his nose, inhaling deeply. “You smell different from before.”

Your face heats like a furnace. “I-is it bad?”

“It’s better.” Jimin describes it as a thicker scent that’s concentrated and more like you. He swears under his breath before he tosses the fabric aside in favour of the source itself. He placates you with a few kisses to your inner thighs before giving your clit a flat lick, spreading your lips apart and getting his first good taste of you in months.

“Jimin- oh Merlin, fuck,” your back arches and your hips grind against his face, but you are impatient. “St-stop teasing. Want your cock, now.”

Jimin indulges himself in a few more licks, noting the way you taste even sweeter while pregnant before he shifts to lie against your side, figuring that this would be the least tiring position for you if he’s doing all the work. He kisses your neck, sucking deep bruises into your tender skin as he reaches between your legs to tease your clit with his fingers.

You reach back to seek out his cock, pushing his pants down impatiently and finding him hard and ready for you. Your mouth salivates as you grip his firm length in your hand, his warmth already spilling into your palm as you jerk him off with several test strokes.

Jimin slides a hand under your knee to lift your thigh for him. “This okay? Feeling alright?”

“More than okay,” you reassure him as he supports your thigh to open you up for him, using his other hand to guide his cock to your swollen and drenched entrance.

“I-I’ve been wet almost everyday, thinking about your cock,” you confess as he brings the head of his cock to your slit, teasing you with a few tiny little movements of his hips behind you.

“Have you?” Jimin murmurs against your skin as he finally allows his swollen, dripping head to breach your entrance. The first stretch has you crying out against him, your pussy clenching around his cock immediately. Having been deprived of sex all these months, your pussy feels like it’s being stretched wide open by Jimin’s girth, and you relish the burn of it as Jimin works his hips to sink into your cunt even deeper. “Can’t let my good girl go hungry without my cock, can I?”

Jimin sinks in all the way, and you let out a satisfied sigh when he is fully embedded inside you, right where he belongs. This feels right. It feels good.

“Ji-Jimin, you’re so thick, oh Merlin, fuck,” your mouth runs loose as he gently works his hips to withdraw from your pussy.

His slow and gentle pace hits you right where you need him. Jimin’s cock satisfies you so well that you feel as if you’re about to cum right away, even without much attention to your clit.

“Feel good, baby?” Jimin checks in with you as he lowers your thigh to rest on top of his. “Am I too deep? Should I pull out?”

“N-no, you’re perfect. You feel so, so good, pl-ease, don’t stop,” your mouth is wide open as you gasp for breath, chest rising and falling rapidly as your husband fucks into you with slow, deep strokes of his cock, one hand coming to rest on your pregnant belly to hold you closer to him. “Ri-right there. Pl-please, I’m gonna cum.”

“That fast?” Jimin chuckles against your ear, and it sends shivers down your spine. “I barely even started and you’re cumming all over my cock already? My baby must have missed me.”

“You have no fucking idea,” you pant as your hips push back onto his cock. You take his hand on your belly in yours and press it against your skin. “This baby missed you too.”

Jimin sinks his cock into your depths and remains there, tilting your chin back so that he can kiss your lips. “Daddy missed you too, little one. I missed you and your mother so much.”

Lying like this, his chest against your back with his cock buried balls deep inside you, and both of your hands wrapped around your swollen belly, you can’t help but feel as if sex has reached a whole new level of intimacy. You feel him so deep inside you that you’re not quite sure where you end and he begins, and as he begins to thrust slowly again, you reach down to fondle your clit.

“Need help?” Jimin presses a kiss onto your shoulder before he gently pushes your hand away. “I’ll do it. Let me.”

He pinches and flicks at your clit expertly, till he feels your walls start to clamp down around his cock as he keeps up his slow but deep thrusts. Every slap of skin against skin resounds in the room, Jimin can feel your arousal soaking his balls as he works to bring you to your climax. Your little moans and whines are music to his ears, pleas of his name fall from your lips as his cock presses against your filled womb, and you collapse around him.

Your orgasm washes over you as you cry out his name, thighs trembling and pussy quivering around his cock. The pleasure that you had been seeking for months now overrides all your senses, and you are on cloud nine as your husband helps you to ride out your orgasm, pulling out now and giving you shallow thrusts to prolong your ecstasy.

Jimin kisses your shoulder as you lie boneless in his arms, sweat dampening your body as you come down from your high. Just as he makes to pull out, you clench around him with your kegel muscles, taking Jimin absolutely by surprise.

“I’ve been practicing these, you know,” you grin at him. “It’s an exercise for pregnant women.”

“Fuck, you absolute minx,” Jimin can’t help but flash you a greasy smile as he reaches down to kiss you again. “That’s why I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumble against his lips before pushing your ass back against him. “Now go ahead and finish. Don’t give me any crap about not wanting to hurt me. I want you to finish inside me.”

“How can I say no to that? You love it when I cum inside you, don’t you? It’s what got you into this state in the first place, my good girl,” Jimin’s hips surge forward once again as your walls clench around his cock. With you consciously tightening your walls, he’s brought to the edge in no time, desperate little whines leaving his plush lips as he thrusts into you slightly harder as his cock erupts, and he paints your walls white with his semen.

Jimin groans into your neck as his hips twitch, and you can feel his cock spilling more and more of his cum into your pussy. The feeling is warm and wet, and you reach back to play with his balls absently, feeling them twitch in your grasp as he unloads into your depths.

“You came so much,” you say to him, counting about ten spurts in total.

Jimin grunts again as his cock begins to soften inside you, sighing with pleasure as his blue balls from the previous months are finally relieved. He is already starting to leak out of your pussy as his dick slips out, and he pushes himself into a sitting position, helping you onto your back with your thighs spread so he can admire the view.

“So fucking beautiful.” Watching your pregnant pussy leak with his cum and seeing your rounded belly fills Jimin with the most joy he’s ever felt in his entire life. When you tighten your kegel muscles to squeeze out even more cum, Jimin groans under his breath.

“That’s so fucking hot,” he bends down to catch a glob of his cum on his tongue, swiping through your creamy folds to clean you up. His soft and wet tongue against your lips relaxes you, and you sigh against his touch, feeling more than seeing Jimin eat you out to another orgasm since your belly blocks most of the action.

When he’s done, his head of purple hair pops up from between your legs again, and he wears a cum smeared grin on his face. “You okay? Does anything hurt?”

“Come here, wanna cuddle,” you demand, and Jimin obliges immediately, spooning your frame with his as your eyes flutter shut. “Give me a second before we go again. I want a second and third and fourth round. To make up for all those months.”

A soft giggle bubbles out of his mouth onto your shoulder. “Yes, ma’am.”

For a moment you lie there, completely content in your husband’s arms as he traces meaningless patterns onto your belly. Then, suddenly you feel a foreign pressure on your lower abdomen.

It can only be one thing.

Your husband is almost slumbering behind you, completely unaware of this as you turn to him calmly, shaking him to wake him up.

“Jimin, I’m getting contractions.”

[Epilogue]

“There’s mail!” He announces, shutting the door and escaping from the snowy weather outside. Jimin removes his jacket and then his emerald scarf, hanging it on the coat rack beside your own yellow scarf. “Jeongguk wants us to bring the baby to visit. This is the fifth time he’s sent us a letter. He might send us a Howler next time.”

“Not a chance!” You shout from the living room. “He’s going to kidnap our child and make him the literal poster child for Hogwarts. We wouldn’t get him back until he’s eighteen.”

Jimin walks to the kitchen island and sets the newspaper aside, ripping open the envelopes. “That’s fine by me.”

“I heard that.”

In one of the envelopes, a moving picture falls out. It’s an image of Ryujin and Taehyung together, gathering the first years potion class to stand in a crowd outside the castle as each of the students hold a vial of what he recognizes as a Cure for Boils. There are drawings in the mail too, messages from the students at Hogwarts and how both you and him are dearly missed.

In the past few months, Ryujin has sent numerous letters asking questions regarding lesson plans and where certain ingredients are. A lot of the times, her questions come with baby gifts, like onesies or toys. Apparently the Slytherins, one of them being Yoongi, have been running amok in the castle too, giving Yuri a hard time. Jimin can only imagine the kids’ fear the day you return to whip them back into shape.

“Ryujin sent another picture!”

“Oh really?” Usually, you’d come running to take a look, but today you stay where you are. “Put it in the empty frame we have.”

“Will do,” he chimes out.

In the past year, you’ve settled down happily. Your cottage in Hogsmeade is cozy and quaint, the perfect home the pair of you could’ve asked for. To the point where you’re scared Jimin might not want to return to teaching since he’s so entirely content with everything.

It wasn’t all butterflies and rainbows. There were definitely hard times nights where the newborn wouldn’t catch a wink of sleep and only wanted to suck you dry of your milk. Your overbearing family came to help out, Jimin’s parents coming to assist. Sometimes you have students visiting when they visit Hogsmeade as well, though they always run for the hills after your kid pukes all over them. The only person who hasn’t been deterred is Seokjin who’s visited a handful of times. Though you haven’t opened the door for him the last two times since he’s always coming to talk about being Head Boy and giving you headaches.

Nevertheless, now that the baby was a bit older, ten months to be exact, things were a bit less chaotic.

Maybe you could call it peaceful — except your son isn’t calm at all.

From the time of conception to now, his existence is best described as a tornado. He’s always causing trouble for you no matter where he is or what he’s doing.

At ten months, his personality was beginning to show. He was stubborn and picky like you, but worse. If he was dissatisfied with the flavour of yogurt at breakfast, he would pick it up by the fistful and hurl it straight at your face as if he was an angry customer at a restaurant and you were his slave server. Like Jimin, your son would chuck books away when it had too many words and he absolutely hated storytime. But he was cunning, playful and flirtatious, leaving older ladies swooning when he flashes a smile that crinkles his eyes into half-moons. He was always smiling, knowing how to get people dancing in the palm of his chubby, tiny hand.

And your son has started to crawl everywhere at astronomical speeds. You can barely keep up with him. Once he starts walking, you don’t know what to do. But you can never get too mad when he wrecks havoc. The fact that your son is a spitting image of your pouty and loving husband is both a curse and a blessing.

“How’s our Sapling—?” Jimin enters the living room and then stops. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing, nothing.” But it doesn’t look like nothing. The baby is sitting up and there are four different cars in front of him — blue, yellow, green, and red. Jimin swears the green is closest to the baby’s hand. “Shh...don’t say anything, he’s deciding. It’s a very important choice. You can’t influence him.”

You say that even as you not-so-subtly nudge the green car closer to your son.

“He’s deciding?” Your husband plops down on the floor beside you.

“Which one?” you coo at your boy.

The child leans over, nearly toppling with the weight of his chubby cheeks. But he manages and both your breaths hitch together. Your eyes watch. And your son….he extends his hand...reaching…...for the car that’s….re—

You take the red car, swiping it before your son can and you chuck it across the room. It hits against the wall, making a small dent in the white paint and smashing to pieces. You grin, holding up the green car.

“GREEN! What a good choice! Green, right?! I knew it!”

The two of you laugh — you in hysteria and Jimin in amusement.

It doesn’t help that your son’s favourite stuffed toy is a lion.

Jimin leans over, planting a gentle kiss on your cheek. Your son crawls towards him, not interested in the green car, and Jimin lifts him up into his arms. He smiles, kissing his cheek too while standing up. As Jimin walks into the kitchen, he gazes at his son and whispers underneath his breath, “yellow, right?”

“I heard that!” you shout and your husband grins, a cheesy smile that’s not guilty at all.

“I love you!”

[essieeeeeeeee]

here’s part 1 of gratuitous Shobbs kidfic, aka sugar, spice, and everything nice

---------

“Remind me why I’m doin’ this again?” Shaw mutters.

Sweat is pooling at the small of his back under heavy black tactical gear; it drips down the sides of his face, trails into his eyes. Shaw squints against the sting of it.

The heat is just short of ungodly, in his very British opinion, and it’s only worsened by the kind of humidity that hangs in the air like molasses, thick and choking with every breath. A pervasive stench of rot wafts up from the earth around him, and as Shaw lays belly-down in the mud and slop, sinking further and further into the wet swampland with every passing hour, he’s certain that the putrid mess has immersed itself into his very flesh at this point.

Two days, laying there, hardly moving an inch in his vigil.

Two. Fucking. Days.

"Suck it up, princess," Hobbs' voice murmurs into his ear, and Shaw clenches his jaw at the sound of it. 

He’s been on worse missions - in worse locales even, for longer periods, and with less payoff - but none of those involved Luke Hobbs with unfettered access to his earpiece for two goddamn days.

“I believe, Mr. Shaw,” and Nobody’s voice is surprisingly clear over the earbud, considering the man was a continent away, “that the saying goes ‘you scratch my back, and I'll scratch yours’.” 

Not too difficult to say, Shaw thinks, from an air conditioned office in Los Angeles. 

Unfortunately, the man’s not exactly wrong - they'd made a deal, and these were the less than pleasant terms. After two months of separate tracking, going their own ways in the aftermath of Samoa, beating the smallest scraps of intel from every fringe of Eteon’s grubby little tentacles that they could find, he and Hobbs’ leads had finally run dry. Not a word - not a single fucking whisper - of Eteon’s operations had made its way through their varied contacts. The tech-cult had seemingly vanished off the very face of the Earth nearly overnight, to the point that it was almost questionable that it’d ever existed in the first place.

The bastards were good.

It was Hobbs who’d suggested the God’s Eye.

Deckard remembered it - vaguely, from his brief and regretful acquaintance with Jakande, and more so from Toretto’s less than legal applications of it in his brother’s favor. An ingenious piece of tech, admittedly.

One that, unfortunately, didn’t quite belong to them.

And such was the crux of Nobody’s deal: access to the God’s Eye, in order to hunt down Brixton’s known associates, and further their search for the enigma that was Eteon - and in exchange, he and Hobbs would play nice, and dismantle the latest thorn in Nobody’s side.

Simple enough, really.

But right now? This whole deal of theirs is feeling less like a scratch on the back, and more like being fucked up the arse, without even the decency of a reach-around to make the experience at least somewhat enjoyable.

Shaw’s only consolation is the fact that somewhere nearby in this god-forsaken jungle, Hobbs is just as neck deep in mud and shit as he is.

"I've got movement," Hobbs' voice crackles across the line. “Transport incoming.”

"Fuckin' finally," Shaw mutters.

He trails the view of his scope slowly back to the gates of the compound below. Two days of surveillance had yielded next to nothing so far, aside from a detailed understanding of the guards’ gambling habits, and one rendezvous that Shaw would have paid good money to have avoided ever witnessing in the first place.

He narrows in on the cadre of men playing poker at the edge of the gates, next to the station housing the exterior security system. Deckard snorts; the guard on the right doesn't have a chance of winning, going by his terrible hand.

If he has to watch the man lose one more round of poker, Shaw’s going to snipe him himself and put the poor bastard out of his misery.

"Too dirty for your delicate constitution there, your majesty?" Hobbs asks, amusement in his voice. Deckard scoffs.

"Yeah, and I’m sure the pig feels right at home, sloppin’ around in the mud like a -"

"Cut the chatter, boys," Nobody interjects cooly. "What do you got for me, Shaw?"

Shaw scowls, but falls silent nonetheless in grudging obedience. Nobody’s right, after all - he’s usually not quite so unprofessional on a mission like this, but something about Hobbs puts an itch under his skin. A need to bite back, and harder.

But it’s not the time. So Shaw lets his hands still; his breathing slows, deep and patterned. The steady, sharpened focus that’s aided him countless times before this has been difficult to dredge up, with the constant distraction of Hobbs’ taunts in his ear, but now he slides into it with the ease of long habit.

He focuses in on the line of vehicles that rumbles into sight from around the corner of the road. “Caravan,” Deckard murmurs quietly. Heavily armored trucks, he notes. Guards stationed at the back of every one of them, clutching to the railings, hefting rifles on their shoulders. Deckard slides his scope over the windows of each vehicle as they move by, searching, hunting - and then quickly skips back to the third car, as the man in the passenger seat glances out the window into the jungle, providing a clear view of his face.

Black hair, with greying wisps at the temples. A pair of deep crow’s feet bracketing dark grey eyes. And a distinct, thin scar at the edge of the right eyebrow.

Jackpot.

"Got a visual," Shaw confirms, pulling away from the viewfinder. "It’s him."

Rafael Somoza. Billionaire, cartel leader, international arms dealer, and, apparently, massive pain in Nobody's arse, if the agent was hard-up enough to manipulate them into helping bring him down. From the dossiers he and Hobbs had been given, it was clear the kingpin had his fingers in far too many pots around the world for the American government's comfort, and now a nice, dazzling assassination was on the menu.

Shaw could easily take him out, here and now. His finger itches on the trigger as he trains his target between the man's eyes, imagining the neat little hole he could make just there, right above the faint gray line of his scar. The windows of the car were likely bulletproof, but it wasn’t anything a nice bit of armor-piercing rounds wouldn’t fix.

But none of that was in the books. Nobody wanted big, fiery, decadent chaos, not a simple bullet to the head. He wanted a message sent to Somoza’s cronies, many of whom would likely shit themselves over the opportunity to fill the vacuum of power left behind.

It didn’t hurt that the compound was stocked with more illegal weaponry than even Eteon could shake a stick at; it’s destruction would be a feather in Nobody’s cap.

And on top of it all, the fact that Somoza's fortune was carried on the back of his lucrative slave trade?

Shaw didn’t mind all that much playing messenger boy, in this case.

“Alright boys,” Nobody says, voice just as jaunty as ever. "Time to do what you do best."

“Hobbs?” Deckard asks.

“In position.”

“Good. Watch and try to learn something while you wait outside like a good little boy.”

Hobbs' snort follows him as Shaw pulls himself out of the mud with a soft squelch, ignoring the stiffness of joints that haven’t moved for hours on end. The caravan is waved through the gates, and behind them, Deckard slips silently down towards the compound wall below.

******

Fifteen minutes later, Shaw’s silently wrapping a hand around the mouth of the last perimeter guard to muffle his shout of surprise, and driving a knife into the side of his skull. The man slumps in his grip; Shaw lets the body fall to the ground with a muted thud. He glances down at the dead man's face as he sheathes the blade at his hip, and clucks softly at the realization that it's Mr. Terrible Hand.

Poor bastard. Never even got a chance to win a round.

“All clear," he states quietly. He leans down, and hefts the limp body back up into his arms by the biceps. Couldn't just leave the trash lying about where anyone could trip over it.

“Took you long enough.”

"Oh, I'm sorry," Deckard huffs, dragging the dead weight back towards the guard station behind him. "Was the peanut gallery bored?"

Hobbs snorts. "Could'a sworn you mentioned learning something, but all I see is the clock ticking -"

“Boys,” Hattie rebukes softly. Hobbs chuckles at Shaw's irritated grunt.

"Alright tough stuff, I'm coming in."

"Yeah," Shaw mutters. He glances at the mansion at the center of the compound - a big, elegant affair, complete with sprawling garden near the east wing and a sizable, vine-covered balcony overlooking it - and carefully keeps out of line of sight of the windows.

His lips twitch into a smirk.

"Forgot to mention - left ya a little gift at the gate, Hobbs."

The distinct sound of a displeased snarl rumbles over the earpiece. It's followed by a series of ravenous barking, and Hobbs' alarmed cursing.

"You motherFUCKER-"

Hobbs cuts himself off with a yelp. Deckard snorts out a laugh.

Enjoy, you fucking twat, he thinks with satisfaction. 

With the last external security measure suitably distracted by the DSS agent, Shaw knocks open the guardhouse door with his foot, and promptly drops the dead man atop the pile of bodies already stacked in the corner. He dusts his hands - flakes of drying blood peeling off into the air with the gesture - and moves on towards the desk at the front. It’s laden with televisions broadcasting security footage from throughout the outside of the compound: gates, wall, yard, garden. Shaw scans each of them, and lets his eyes linger appreciatively for a moment over the Aston Martin parked smartly in the garage.

He's pleased to find no evidence of his handiwork on the screens.

He’s also pleased to see Hobbs, looking somewhat battered and with a tear in his trousers, on the bottom right monitor.

"I'm in," the other man pants. Shaw catches the irritated glare Hobbs shoots at the camera facing him, and it's honestly gratifying. "No thanks to captain assclown here."

"Couldn't take all the fun for myself," Shaw answers distractedly, trailing his hands over the wires in front of him down to the console tucked away out of sight. "What, the great Agent Hobbs can't handle a couple of pooches?"

"Pooches I can handle. That was a pack of goddamn hellhounds."

“Deck,” Hattie cuts in. “Use the USB to get us access to the terminal. Ramsey and I will take over from there.”

“Got it,” he mutters. He pulls the USB from his belt, and slides the device into the computer’s access port.

Working alone may be Shaw's default preference, but even he has to admit that technical assistance during these sorts of operations was helpful. Stealth in this particular mission would have been impossible, otherwise; the security system that Somoza employed was far too complicated, even for the respectable measure of skill Deckard possessed.

Not that he didn't enjoy an old-fashioned guns-blazing entrance, but sometimes the finesse of avoiding a confrontation could be just as thrilling as causing it.

The screens flicker, briefly, and he stiffens. A moment later, though, they settle back into their previous feeds. Deckard lets his shoulders relax as Ramsey’s low, impressed whistle filters across the line.

“The man’s definitely paranoid. I haven’t seen a system this intricate since Abu Dhabi. Cameras, door alarms, pressure sensors...”

“Can you get in?” Hobbs asks.

“Of course. Give me a minute, and - oh." Ramsey pauses. "Oh, no.”

“Oh no? What’s ‘oh no’?” Hobbs snaps, as Shaw asks a terse, “Ramsey?”

'Oh no's' were a shit sign - particularly from a mission’s tech specialist. In Shaw's experience, the term could mean anything from 'I spilled a soft drink on the keyboard' to 'there's an air-to-surface missile currently locked onto your position as we speak.'

Ramsey didn't exactly come across as the drink-spilling type.

“It’s the interior cameras.” Hattie’s voice is clipped and tense. "They operate on a separate relay. We can't access them remotely from here."

"Not completely, at least," Ramsey concedes. "I can't access the footage itself, true, but - I think we can freeze the clip if you tell me which rooms you're entering, to hide you from the monitors. But you'll have to make sure they're empty first, otherwise - well…"

"They'll know something's up," Hobbs finishes for her. "Think you can handle that, Tiny Tim?"

“Like I said,” Shaw says, sliding the USB out and pocketing it again. A flicker of hungry anticipation wells up in his chest. “Watch and learn.”

“Hobbs, the cameras to the garage are all external - we’ll have eyes on you.”

“Alright then,” Hobbs says. His eagerness is obvious. “Let’s roll.”

*****

Keeping out of sight over a long stretch of yard, in the middle of the day, with bright sunlight streaming down and not a single bush to duck behind, is bloody fucking difficult.

Deckard assumes he manages it, though, when a contingent of guards fails to appear as he starts his climb up the vines draping down from the deck above the garden. He smoothly hauls himself up and over the balcony ledge, and crouches down by the glass doors, keeping low and leaning forward slowly to get a glimpse into the room beyond. According to the blueprints, it should be a guest room - decked to the fucking nines, like everything else in the mansion, but burdened with less foot traffic from the guards than, say, Somoza's own bedroom. Perfect entry point.

It's empty, as far as he can tell. 

"Hats?"

The soft clicking of a keyboard is audible over the line. "You're good to go. Ramsey and I have disabled all door alarms. Freezing the camera in three, two - one."

He jimmies the lock to the door with the ease of long practice, and silently steps into the room.

And it’s - as expected, honestly. All fine paintings and heavy, voluptuous drapings, a four-poster mahogany bed, thick carpets that a man could comfortably sleep on. And all of it likely cost an inconceivable fortune. Everywhere he looks screams of wealth and luxury, in an obnoxious, ostentatious way.

Shaw stares down at it - and then slowly, deliberately, wipes his muddy boots along the length of the rug beneath him.

Human trafficking cuntwads.

“Deckard?” Ramsey’s says, and he lets his attention stray back to the task at hand.

"We're clear." Shaw strides to the heavy wooden door, opens it an inch to peer through. The hallway beyond is empty. "I'll guide. Just freeze 'em when I say."

And so he does. It’s almost absurdly easy, truth be told - Shaw feels somewhat disappointed by the lack of challenge in it all. He slips through the halls like a ghost, footsteps soft on the wooden floors, ducking silently behind doorways and into nooks and crannies as the occasional guard surfaces. It's largely quiet, though. It seems the intel on this one was good - the compound was being cleared out, with a bare bones staff on premises, consisting only of Somoza's men. The rest of the 'staff' - a fancy word for slaves, likely, knowing Somoza's tendency to dabble in that filthy practice - had already been relocated to his newest facility.

A lucky break, that Nobody had snatched that piece of information.

Blowing up the whole fucking building with the man still in it wouldn't have been quite as fun with civilians on site.

"Hobbs, right there - the center column, three to the right," Hattie says, as Shaw tests the handle of the door in front of him. Locked. "Plant the charge there. It's the main support for the upper floors. If the blast doesn't take them out, the collapse of the building will."

It's faint, but Deckard has known his sister his entire life, and can pick out the sound easily enough behind the cool professionalism in her voice: a hint of bloodthirsty glee.

That’s my girl, Deckard thinks.

The door opens easily enough under his deft hand, and Shaw quietly pushes it open. The guard sitting in front of the bank of monitors ahead of him swivels in his chair, but before a sound can pass his lips there's a knife conveniently lodged in his vocal cords. He gurgles. Shaw calmly slides the blade out, then slips it back under his ribs in one smooth motion, and that's that.

He pushes both chair and corpse away and steps up to the monitors.

"I'm at the mainframe. What am I lookin' for here?"

"It's a chip," Ramsey says quickly. "There should be an access hatch in the bottom left of the terminal. You can take it from there, easy."

"Right," he mutters faintly, staring at the massive network of consoles and controls in front of him. "Easy."

It's not easy. 

"You're cuttin' it real close, Shaw," Hobbs grumbles ten minutes later, as Shaw runs his hands over the next terminal in line. He scowls.

"Maybe if you’d quit fucking yappin’ at me…” 

Loathe as he is to admit it, Hobbs is right: time is of the essence. The guard rotation's due in just under an hour, and they both need to be off premises at that point, or risk getting caught up in the fallout. The chip is essential, though - filled with data regarding the particulars of Somoza’s wide-ranging trafficking activities, according to the informant that had tucked it away for them.

If only the idiot had been a bit more specific on the location.

Finally, his fingers skim over the hatch. He wrenches it open, and slides the chip out with a soft click. “Done."

"Great. Now, if you're all finished with tea time, maybe we can get back on mission."

"Feel free to go and fuck yourself at any time, Hobbs."

"Oh, well I guess if I have her majesty's permission -"

"Are they always like this?" Ramsey asks quietly, as the bickering continues.

"Only most days," Hattie answers, bored.

"Lovely as it is to see you kids getting along so well," Nobody cuts in, "I think it's time that we set that charge, don't you boys?"

Shaw snaps his mouth shut on the next stinging retort, and straightens. "Set it for thirty minutes."

"Those hobbit legs of yours gonna be able to get you far enough away by then, short stack?"

Deckard snorts, and slips back out into the hall. "I'm touched by your concern," he sneers.

He goes silent, though, as his ears prick at the sound of footsteps from around the corner. Deckard glances down the hall, and his eyes alight on a door from the direction he’d just come. His hand hovers over the handle as he racks his brain - another guest room, if his memory of the blueprints serves him well, and thus likely empty - and as the footsteps get steadily closer, Shaw grabs the handle, tugging it open, swiftly stepping inside to escape detection, with a sharp, "Hats, freeze guest room three."

He closes the door behind him, and then - stills.

And... stares.

"Shit," he hisses lowly.

"Shaw?" Hobbs snaps immediately. There's concern in his voice.

But Shaw barely registers it. His eyes dart around the room as he lingers in the entryway, alarm freezing him in place.

Deckard takes in the changing table, the rocking chair, the small, soft toys littering the corners of the room. The murals of baby animals dancing cheerfully across pastel walls. A quiet lullaby plays from a speaker on the table, gentle and soothing, with a tinkling melody behind it. And in the center of all of it sits a crib - a beautifully carved, mahogany work of art, with the hangings of the four posts left half-open, gauzy and fluttering in the breeze from the ceiling fan.

"Deck?" Hattie asks.

Dread grips at his chest.

Because it's not a guest room.

It's a goddamn nursery.

"Shit," Shaw breathes again, staring through the crib's wooden slats.

The curious little face of an infant stares right back up at him.

[solar-bean]

First Meeting

I have like 3 different versions for how Zola met the Autobots ( specifically Optimus) but thos one's my favorite.

So this was it. I wake up. Shower. Feed RG0 ( pronounced Argo ) my Rottweiler, German Shepard mix. Eat breakfast. Workout. Then tinker and tinker till the day is spent on whatever project I'll probably never finish. I usually skip lunch and go straight to dinner. After that I'd read, paint watch tv or even practice playing my ukulele. Then I'd sleep and do it all over again as I've been doing for the past three years.

The best part is that my routine is never interrupted by outsiders since I'm alone in the woods. Or at least until now.

One night RG0 decided that he wanted to stray away from our normal path. I was fine with even though he was off leash. Nighttime in the forest no longer scared me. I felt more safe than anything. I still brought my shotgun just in case.

Then I heard a loud boom and stopped in my tracks. Before I knew it RG0 bolted into the direction of the loud sound. I hurried after him in a panic.

" Crazy dog! Now is not the time to be curious!!!"

He zoomed past the twisting trees over the uneven ground that slowed me down. Over the thumping of my heartbeat I could hear more loud sounds that were all getting louder. What was this dog leading me to? Thankfully he stopped at a dead end.

I recognized it as a small cliff that overlooked the largest valley in the forest. RG0 stood at the edge and stared down quietly with his ears perked. I slowed down and began to catch my breath only for it to leave my lungs again in shock.

The once peaceful, lush valley was now a warzone filled with....robots??? Why the hell are there robots?! And why are they fighting for that matter?!! There had to be ten - no - twelve of them. All with futuristic guns and other weapons used to harm and maybe even kill. But there seemed to be two groups. It wasn't just random fighting.

The ones with brighter colors seemed to only be fighting the ones with sharper, more threatening features. Wait did they have matching symbols? Ugh! I can't tell without my glasses.

Hang on...what were these things exactly? Some kind of government project gone wrong or maybe a test? It would make since sense these woods are deserted despite me and RG0. Wait did they not know I was here. I have been keeping a low profile. Maybe I'm not suppose to be seeing this. Holy Crap!!! One of the little ones just ripped off the other's arm!!!!

" Ok buddy," I held onto RG0s collar and began to step back slowly. " No clue what the hells going on but we're leaving right now."

Then as luck would have it, one if the robots was blasted into the cliff with an eerily human cry of pain. The force of the impact made me fall over and RG0 yelp. Apparently we'd been loud enough to be heard since the robot, who was tall enough to rest their elbow ( or at least what looked like one ) on the cliff's edge, spotted us.

They were red, blue and silver from what I could see. They also seemed to be wearing some sort of mask. But what really stood out was their glowing eyes that stared back at mine. They held so much emotion and intelligence. That and they were the most beautiful shade of blue.

Before I could admire the metallic stranger any longer, a screeching voice runge out.

" Well Prime, it looks like you've found one of the planet's many pests. Here let me dispose of it for you."

Oh that can't be good.

An energy blast from above missed me and RG0 by a hair. I frantically searched above the trees to see another robot high in the sky with a blaster pointed at us.

Oh great they can fly too!!!

Without a second thought we bolted back down the path with the flying bot hot on our tails. RG0 was taking the path home but I managed to signal him to follow me down another in the opposite direction. I hadn't been this way in a while but the last thing I need is them knowing where we live. It would have been a lot easier to runaway if I didn't have to keep running ina zigzag to avoid blasts. From the high pitched laughter, I could tell that this metal douchebag was enjoying our scurrying.

The robot must have gotten tired of flying since they landed on the ground. Right in front of us.

" As fun as this chase has been, human. I'll need to finish the job before Megatron gets suspicious of why my mission is taking so long. Not that you understand any of what I'm saying. With your inferior intellect and all."

Ok. Doucheness just went from a 10 to a 20.

They pointed their blaster at me, causing RG0 to jump in front of me and growl at them.

" Aw. The organic has a loyal pet. Let's see how well it handles my plasma beam."

" No!"

I held RG0 close to me and awaited the blast that never came. Instead another came from behind us and hit the flying robot's in their blaster, damaging it.

" Leave them alone Starscream!" came a noble, booming voice.

It was the red robot from before.

" Argh! How dare you interrupt my fun once again Optimus Prime!"

Ok good I've got their names now. Guessing that Optimus is the good guy.

Oh great now they're fighting and I'm way too close!

I barely managed to get out of the way as they tussled around, making the ground shake. Once I was a good I looked over my shoulder to see Optimus, the nice robot, pause to give me a look that said "run." He was distracted long enough for Starscream, aka the douchebag, land a kick on his injured side. That must be where he was shot earlier considering there was a hole leaking some sort of fluid.

Optimus groaned and fell to his knees. He was about to get up before Starscream pointed his still somewhat functional blaster at his face.

" You've disappointed me, Prime. Bested by a few blows? Where's that legendary power?! Ah well. No matter. Megatron shall be pleased when I deliver your helm to him."

That should've been my cue get RG0 and I ro safety, seeing that Optimus was only fighting this guy to give us an opening to flee. But was he really going to die? Or would he be fine if we left? It's not like we could help him anyway!

Unless....

" Hey Starscream!"

" Huh-"

Starscream emitted a pathetic wail when one one of my rifle's bullets hit his face. Then another. And another.

" Why you little-"

Before he could aim his blaster, RG0 jumped on his foot and barked up at him loudly.

" Ew get off me you disgusting organic parasite!"

He hopped from foot to foot as RG0 jumped around his feet and pawed at them. Meanwhile I kept shooting at him, making a few noticeable dents in his armor. All the chaos made him do a panicked jig and whine. I couldn't help but giggle.

'Serves you right!!!'

He had enough once he accidentally shot himself in the foot trying to get RG0.

" ARGH! Oh that's it! Now you both die!"

Then Optimus, now having recovered some, shoved him at full force. It sent him tumbling threw a few trees, scratching his metal skin and bending one of his wings. He laid a groaning mess in a heap with Optimus' gun aimed at his head.

" I think it's time for you to go."

With that Starscream transformed into a jet- wait how the HELL- and flew away. I was so taken aback by his transformation that I didn't notice one of the now dented trees give out and fall towards me.

" Look out!" Optimus warned.

RG0 thankfully tackled me out of the way but my head hit the ground to hard and everything turned black.

-------------

I woke up with a throbbing headache and sore muscles. Even worse my bed felt terrible and the curtains were open in my room.

Wait a minute....

'This isn't my room!'

I surveyed my surroundings. I was apparently seating in the front seat of a truck.

'WHO'S TRUCK AM I IN???'

Before I could panic for much longer a familiar voice came from the radio.

" Good morning. How are you feeling?"

" U-uhmm...fine I guess. Who am I talking to?" I said while staring skeptically at the radio and scooting as far into the seat as I could.

" Forgive me for not introducing myself properly. I am Optimus Prime. The mech you met from last night."

'Oh great! That wasn't all a weird whiskey induced dream.'

" But......you're a truck now???"

" Yes."

" Weren't you a robot before?"

" If by 'robot' you mean my primary form, then also yes."

I burried my face in my hands and groaned.

"Ughhh what's going on?"

I then remembered the lack of a certain furry companion. I was about to panic again until I saw RG0 a few yards away from us and playing with some of the other robots from last night. A small yellow one was on the ground, nearly mirroring RG0's play position. I would've found the whole scene cute if it wasn't so bizarre.

" If you don't mind me asking. I would like to know the name of the human who saved me."

I snorted.

" Saved you? No way. If anything you saved me."

" If you hadn't have stayed and distracted Starscream, I would've been severely injured if not offlined. You could have left me there and saved yourself. But you didn't. You showed true bravery."

" Aw stop with the flattery. I was just paying you back for helping us first. So consider us even."

" Then thank you miss....?"

" Princeton. Well Zola is my first name."

" Then thank you Zola. And I'm sure we have much to discuss."

" That might be an understatement."

And it was.

[tequila-clifford]

Three Wishes

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Reader

Word Count: 8601

Warnings/Rating: Fluff/Some Angst & Adult Language 

Request:Sorta? It’s was inspired by the photo above. 

Summary: Single mom, Y/N wants her son’s 5th birthday to be perfect. Things don’t exactly go as planned, but best friend, Michael, saves the day, in more ways than one.

If you like this fic, go thank Steff aka @h0tsos because it would have literally never been finished without her. 

“IT’S- MY- BIRTHDAY!” You were hurled out of your sleep by your son, Emmett, catapulting his entire body weight into your side. It was here, the day you wished you could just skip over or push away; your baby boy was five. You would have loved nothing more than to stay in your happy little denial bubble, where you could pretend that he would stay little forever, but, like it or not, it was happening. “Mommy, you need to get up! It’s my birthday!” You couldn’t help but let out a groan at the idea of getting up right now, but you could feel the excitement radiating from him and you knew you had to greet him with just as much enthusiasm.

Without opening your eyes, you wrapped your arms around his middle and pulled him down onto the bed, immediately tickling his sides and sending him into a fit of laughter. “There is NO WAY it’s your birthday today!”

“IT IS!”

“So how old are you today?” He managed to hold up his hand between his giggles and you kissed the tips of his five little fingers. “You’re right, bug, you’re five! What do you say we go make you some birthday waffles and get ready for your party?”

“YES! LET’S GO RIGHT NOW!” You couldn’t help but laugh at his excitement as he practically sprinted out of your room and towards the kitchen. You climbed out of bed and slipped on your robe, following close behind.

You’d just finished up making E’s breakfast and took the first sip of your coffee when your phone began to buzz on the counter, you looked over to see your best friend, Michael’s, face on your screen.

 You instinctively checked your reflection in the microwave before picking up your phone and answering his FaceTime. “You’re up awfully early for a Saturday.”

“Well, good morning to you too, Y/N. Of course I’m up early, it’s my favorite little dudes birthday! Where is E, anyway? Is he awake?”

“Yeah, he’s ri--”

“Is that Mike!? Mommy, I wanna talk!” You handed your phone to your child who was practically vibrating with excitement. “Mike, are you coming to my birthday today? You know I'm FIVE!?” He spit out all in one breath.

“I know, buddy! And you bet I am! Ya know, I heard your mum is making our favorite cake.”

“Already made it. AND you’re in charge of bringing the ice cream, don’t forget!” You shouted from across the kitchen as you started to wash the dishes from breakfast.

“You got it, boss.” Michael let out with a laugh before Emmett interjected again, going on about how he wants chocolate ice cream and that he hopes he gets the Batmobile go-kart that he’s been asking for “for his whole life”.

As you finished up the dishes, Emmett walked back into the kitchen and reluctantly handed you your phone. “Here, Mommy, Mike wants to talk to you now. ”

“Thank you, bug. Why don’t you go upstairs and make your bed?” He nodded and ran out of the kitchen.

“Is Jason coming today?” Michael all but blurted the question out to you as soon as you turned your attention back to your phone. Jason, your ex and Emmett’s father. You had zero expectations when it came to him being a hands-on parent, or being any type of parent, since he has proved time and time again that E was not his priority. More often than not, you found yourself wishing that he would just permanently stay out of your lives, rather than coming around at his convenience, only to leave again and let Emmett down.

“He said he was coming, but you know that doesn’t mean much.” Michael nodded, clearly biting his tongue about the issue. “I haven’t even told E, just in case he doesn’t show. If Jason does come, then he’ll have a nice surprise, but if he doesn’t th--”

“Then at least he won’t be disappointed.” Michael finished your sentence with a sour look on his face and your expression fell to match his, until he spoke again. “But hey, today is still going to be great! I will get the ice cream and I already picked up that thing that you asked me to get. I will be over early to help you decorate with your favorite wine in hand, so you won’t have a complete internal meltdown once all the tiny humans start showing up.”

“What the hell would I do without you?” You let out in a sigh of relief.

“Die, probably.” He replied with a laugh.   

“You’re probably right.”

“Mommy, I need help!” You heard Emmett call from his room.

“Hey, I gotta go, E’s yelling for me. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Yeah, see you later.” With that, you ended your call and headed upstairs.  

About 2 hours had passed by while you frantically cleaned your house, being sure to put anything breakable out of reach. When both of your dogs sped passed you and down the steps, you knew Michael had let himself in. Before you could get down the stairs to greet him, Emmett was running passed you just like the dogs had. “Hey, there’s the birthday boy!” You turned the corner at the bottom of the steps to see him scooping your son up into his arms and spinning him around, both of them with huge smiles plastered on their faces.

Michael looked great, as usual. Long legs in tight skinny jeans with ripped knees exposing his pale skin, black Docs on his feet, and an old band tee to top it off. Emmett pulled the snapback from Michael’s head and placed it on his own, leaving Michael’s blonde fringe hanging in his eyes.  

Emmett and Michael have had a special bond from the first moment they met, the two of you had been friends for years before you had E. When you found out that you were pregnant, Jason had immediately denounced you and your baby; even going as far as accusing you of cheating on him with Michael, anything to get out of being a father.

            Michael had been there for you every step of the way, stepping up without ever being asked or expected, to support you and Emmett however he could. Seeing the two of them together always made you so happy, but this time felt different, almost bittersweet. You sometimes asked yourself what your life would be like, had you never met Jason; always thinking about the what-ifs. You loved Emmett more than anything in the world, and yet there were times when you couldn’t help but wish you’d waited to start a family with the right person; seeing your two favorite people wrestle on the carpet in front of you, you wondered if that “right person” had been Michael from the start.

Michael looked up at you from where he laid on the floor, holding your son in the air with his feet. “Hello, gorgeous,” he said with a laugh. You rolled your eyes and smiled as you fixed your messy hair and subconsciously tugged at your ratty old pajama shirt.

“Do you wanna knock out these decorations now, or?” Michael placed Emmett back on his feet and stood up to meet you.

“Ya know,I think E and I can handle the decorations,” He glanced over to your son and shot him a wink before meeting your eyes again. “You go upstairs and get yourself ready.” You felt some of the tension in your body ease, knowing that was one less thing you had to worry about before people started showing up.

“You’re the best, thank you.” You quickly kissed him on the cheek before turning towards the stairs. “Bug, be a good helper, be sure to listen to Michael. Okay?” He nodded excitedly and you could hear him talking Michael's ear off as you made your way to your bedroom.  

After taking a longer shower than you probably should’ve and drying your hair, you pulled on a fresh pair of panties and reluctantly clasped your bra. You opted to hold off on getting dressed and you slipped your robe back on instead, you put on your favorite playlist, and sat down in front of your mirror. You looked at the clock and let out an exasperated sigh, realizing you didn’t have time for a full face of makeup. You settled for a subtle rose gold shadow and your signature winged liner, being sure to conceal the dark circles under your eyes and to shape up the brows that hadn’t been waxed in way too long, just from lack of free time. You did your best to not overthink the day, trying to not stress about how your house was going to be flooded with over twenty kids under the age of seven in just shy of an hour, and about whether or not Emmett’s father would show.

Just as you were finishing up, there was a tap on your door, you turned to see Michael leaning against the frame with a wine glass in one hand and a bottle in the other. “Thought you might be in need of a drink,” he chuckled and you nodded as he walked over and leaned back against your dresser, handing you the glass. “Is this the playlist I made you?” You nodded and he smiled, looking at his feet for a moment before speaking again. “So, how much crying did you do last night?”

“Ugh. So much.” You shook your head and took a sip of your wine. “I can’t believe he’s five. I can’t believe that I am the mother of a five year old.”

“Well, you’d never know it by looking at you.” You felt a blush creeping up your neck at his words, he cleared his throat before continuing. “It feels like just last week, I was driving you to the hospital after your water broke at my band practice.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the memory, you were so embarrassed that so many people had witnessed that.

“I think E just wanted to see you play in person, he couldn’t wait any longer.” Michael scoffed at the idea as you rested your hand on his forearm, he caught your gaze and immediately turned the attention back to you.

“I just think he was in a hurry to meet his mum. She’s pretty incredible.” Your eyes remained locked on his for just a moment before you cleared your throat and looked away sheepishly.

“I'll always be a little mad that the hospital wouldn't let you in the room with me.” Michael ran his fingers through his hair, and tried to steer the subject in another direction.

“But, I was the first one to meet him once I was allowed in. Do you remember what I said when I held him?”

“Oh my god.” You started laughing again. “You said he looked like Princess Dot from A Bug's Life” Michael squeezed his eyes shut and laughed with you, nodding his head in agreement. “I could not believe you said my baby looked like a bug!”

“But, that nickname stuck, didn't it?” You just shook your head in response before standing up.

“I need to finish getting ready, could you stick around for a second to help me zip up my dress?”

“Of course. Do you want me to step out?”

“It’s not like you haven’t seen me naked before.”  He had; between skinny dipping at Ashton’s birthday party, years of nonchalantly changing clothes in front of one another, and especially after you had E, you’d seen each other naked dozens of times. Michael nodded almost nervously as you pulled your navy blue dress from the hanger and slipped out of your robe. You bent down to step into your dress and you could feel Michael’s eyes on you. When you stood up and pulled the straps over your shoulders you met his eyes, his cheeks were flushed pink and his hand was rubbing the back of his neck, which you knew was one of his anxious habits. You walked over to where he was standing and turned, pulling your hair off to the side and out of the way of the zipper.

You felt his cool, calloused fingers graze your lower back before zipping up your dress, he lingered for a moment, his warm breath fanning over the back of your neck. You could feel your heart racing in your chest as his fingers trailed from your shoulders down to your hands, he grasped your left hand gently and tugged you around to face him. He took your hands into his own and you instinctively laced your fingers with his, loosely; he looked you up and down, shaking his head subtly before catching your eyes again. “You are so beautiful, Y/N.”

You broke your eye contact once again and sucked in a sharp breath. “We better go downstairs. People will be showing up soon.” Your voice was low and you avoided meeting his eyes, you pulled away from his hands and he nodded. You’d started to mentally kick yourself, at first, for ruining the moment, but that quickly turned to you shaking the notion from your mind. There was no “moment”. You scolded yourself for getting caught up in him the way you had, when deep down you knew he meant what he said in the most innocent way. That was just Michael, being Michael. He was just being is normal sweet self, giving you the confidence boost you needed to make it through the day. He couldn’t have meant it in any other way, not with how you look...right?

Emmett may be five, but you’re definitely still rocking the mom bod. Your wide hips, full thighs, and soft stomach that detested being forced into jeans, not to mention the stretch marks adorning your hips, boobs, belly, and arms. E called them your stripes, every time your shirt would ride up a bit and he would see them, he’d growl and say “You look like a tiger, Mommy. That means I’m a tiger too.” You loved that; you loved your body, because it had brought this amazing little boy into the world. But no matter how much you loved your body, you just couldn’t imagine someone like Michael, someone who looks like Michael, loving your body too.

After about 45 minutes of your dogs going crazy every time the doorbell rang, everyone had finally arrived for the party. Michael and E had done a great job with the decorations, Emmett couldn’t wait to tell you how Michael put him up on his shoulders to hang the streamers from the doorway.

All the kids were in the backyard jumping on the ridiculously overpriced moon bounce rental and most of the parents had dropped their kids off at the door and went home. Bright side of the parents not staying for the party? No small talk. You had Michael there, and the rest of the band, who were currently being mobbed by children in the aforementioned inflatable money pit taking up most of your yard. Some of your family had even shown up too, but of course, as predicted, no Jason. You tried not to think about it, knowing that his absence was probably the better side of a shitty coin.

You put on a happy face and lit the candles on E’s birthday cake, your “Milk & Cookies” cake had been a favorite with both Emmett and Michael for as long as you could remember, they would always share a piece, E eating most of your homemade icing from the middle and edges before Michael even got the chance to sit down; not that he ever seemed to mind, he always said that ‘the chocolate chips were his favorite part anyway’, which you knew was a lie. “Here, let me help.” Michael spoke as he walked in through the sliding glass door. “You go stand with E and take some pictures, I’ll carry this.” You smiled at him and rested your hand on his arm for a moment before you walked out to the patio.

Michael followed close behind, a chorus of out of tune guests singing “Happy Birthday” as soon as he emerged from the doorway. The look on Emmetts face was priceless, you only hoped that he would have the same reaction to his gifts as he did over food. You laughed as his face scrunched up, squeezing his eyes shut extra tight before blowing out his candles and making a wish. As soon as he opened them, he practically launched himself into you, wrapping his arms around your neck and hugging you tighter than you think he ever had before; after a silent moment, he let go of you and you just looked at him for a second, trying your best not to tear up in front of all of the people surrounding you. “Okay, how about we open your presents, and then we’ll eat dessert? Sound good?” He excitedly jumped up and down and nodded so fast you were sure he’d concuss himself.

After opening all of the gifts from his friends, the boys, and your family, there were only two to go. Michael came forward carrying a long box, he sat down next to E as he ripped the paper off in record time, the look on his face nearly matching the one he made at the sight of his cake before yelling “A GUITAR! MOMMY, NOW I CAN BE A ROCKSTAR LIKE MIKE!” You didn’t think you had ever seen Michae’ls face light up the way it did in that moment, he was beaming with happiness, maybe even pride. Emmett leapt into his arms the same way he had with you earlier and thanked him profusely.

“I think Mommy might have one more surprise for you.”

They both looked up at you, Michael shooting you a wink and showing off that smirk you loved a little too much. “I think Michael is right. You wait here and cover your eyes.” You walked around the side of your home and through the gate where Michael had hid Emmett's last gift, smiling at the large bow and gift tag Michael had placed on the front. You pushed it around the house, holding your index finger to your lips as you turned the corner, willing all of the kids not to yell and spoil the surprise through their excited whispers. Once you managed to push his deceivingly heavy gift onto the stone patio, you took a second to reclaim your breath and pull out your phone, not wanting to miss recording his reaction. “Okay, Bug, open your eyes!”

The sound that left your sons tiny body could only be compared to one of the velociraptors from Jurassic Park, it took a solid 30 seconds for him to compose himself enough to move from where he stood in front of Michael. “A BATMOBILE! I HAVE WANTED THIS MY WHOLE LIFE!” He turned to Michael almost in disbelief. “Mommy really got me a Batmobile!” Michael just laughed before nodding his head in your direction.

“Well, why don’t you go try it out?”

Emmett turned and bolted towards you, spitting out “thank you Mommy’s” right and left and repeatedly telling you how he has wanted this go-kart “since he was two”.

“Alright baby, you play with some of your new toys while I go cut your cake, okay?” E looked at you a nodded before you turned towards the door. “Make sure you share, Emmett.”

You shot him a warning glance before he answered “Okay, Mommy.”

Before you reached the door, one of your cousins who you had invited strictly out of obligation grabbed your arm. “So, what’s your deal with him?” A puzzled look must have washed over your face because she spoke again without waiting for a response “The hot guy, with Emmett. Mike, right?”

“Oh? Yeah, that’s Michael. Why?”

“Are you two like...a thing?” The question caught you off guard and you fought back the urge to say yes, knowing what her next question would be if you told her the truth. She didn’t wait for another reply from you. “Like, is he single? Because I want him to leave here with me.”

Your mouth suddenly felt dry and you struggled to find the right way to answer her. “Uhh, yeah. I mean, yes. He’s single.”

You didn’t wait around to hear anymore, walking inside and placing both hands on the counter, letting out the breath that you had seemingly been holding. The nervous pit in your stomach from all of the days stress just tripled in size. You glanced out the window to see your cousin chatting him up, and you turned away quickly, trying your best to ignore it.

You just had to get through the cake and ice cream, then parents would be showing up to get their kids soon after and you could finally sit down and take a breath. You pulled out the paper plates from the cupboard behind you and a knife from the block on the counter. When you turned back around, Michael was on the opposite side of the island. “Thought you could use some help with the ice cream.”

You glanced out the window and noticed that your cousin was nowhere to be found, and you held back a sigh of relief. “Yeah, that would be great.” He walked around the counter and opened the freezer, pulling out 3 huge buckets of ice cream. “Jesus, Michael how much do you think these kids will eat?”

“Hey, baby, it’s better to be over prepared.” he said with a wink.

You just rolled your eyes and laughed as he stacked the buckets on the floor and then leaned against the counter next to you, arms crossed in front of his chest. “Aren’t you gonna scoop that?”

“Ehh, it can wait a minute or two. So, funniest thing just happened.”

You raised an eyebrow at him and tried not to stare at the smirk on his face. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”

“Your cousin just asked me out. Like, shamelessly hit on me at a 5 year old’s birthday party.” You had no words to respond to him, so you opted to just nod, wide eyed. “And then I asked her what made her so confident, to come over and blatantly try to seduce me. And she said that you, so kindly, told her that I was single.”

“Well, you are.”  You said matter-of-factly, looking at Michael as he nodded at your statement.

“I mean, I guess it does look that way.”

“So, what did you tell her then? Since apparently I was wrong in revealing your relationship status.”

Michael rested his hand on top of yours and you looked up to meet his eyes as he spoke. “I told her, that I’m only interested in one person and that I plan to stay single for as long as I have to until that one person is ready to let me love them the way they deserve.”

You were speechless, it was like all of the air in your body was suddenly gone. Before you had the chance to even think of how you could possibly respond, your kitchen was flooded with kids all chanting for cake.

You recoiled your hand and shot Michael an apologetic glance, still unable to use your voice, so he spoke up for you. “Alright, who’s ready for a sugar high?” The enthusiastic cheers, came mostly from Emmett who was acting like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Everyone lineup and Miss Y/N and I will hand out the cake and ice cream.”

As the kids lined up in your kitchen, you couldn’t help but stare at him. To say you were in shock would be putting it lightly. You had never in a million years imagined that this was real, that he was real. Michael had always been there for you, and more importantly, for Emmett. Did he really mean what he said? Did he really love you? You absentmindedly handed kids their cake while you admired how he was interacting with every single child who came up for ice cream, complimenting the girls on their sparkly unicorn bows and high fiving the boys for their Batman shirts. You were in awe of him. As the last kid got their plate and turned to walk outside, you sucked in a deep breath at the realization that you and Michael were alone once again. He didn’t say a word as he put the tubs of ice cream back in the freezer, he turned back to face you, immediately meeting your eyes. “Did you mean that?” You all but blurted out.

Michael just nodded as he stepped forward and pulled you into his arms, your head resting on his chest. You could hear his heart racing and feel how tense he was. “I meant every word.” You heard your front door open and click shut over Michael’s words, but you were too wrapped up in this moment to pay any mind, assuming that it was just one of the parents coming a little early to pick up their kid.

Michael pulled back and met your gaze once again before he started to lean in, you shut your eyes, preparing yourself for something you’ve wanted for so long until you heard little footsteps running through your kitchen. “MICHAEL! I’m all done with my cake, can you open this for me?!” Michael’s demeanor immediately changed as he turned towards E.

He nodded and took the toy from his hands, grabbing the scissors from the drawer to open the packaging. He then found the screwdriver and put in some batteries before handing it back to your eagerly waiting boy. “Here ya go, buddy.”

“Thanks, Daddy!” Without another word or any indication that E was aware of what he said, he ran back outside, leaving you and Michael standing there in shock.

“What the fuck is this, Y/N?” You whipped around to see Emmett’s father standing in the entryway of your kitchen. “I drive all the way here from Burbank, for my son’s birthday, and I walk in to not only see you all cozy with this asshole, but to hear my son calling him “daddy”.

You couldn’t help but notice the slurs at the ends of his words as he finished his sentence. When he took an aggressive step in Michael’s direction, you jumped forward, putting your hands on his chest and pushing him towards the door. “Absolutely not. This is not happening, you need to go.”

“I was invited here, Y/N. Remember?”

“Party started hours ago, Jason. You need to get the hell out of my house.”

“I deserve to know what kind of people are around my son, you know. I think we need to have a talk. I am his father and I don’t like what I saw.” You turned your face away from him in disgust as you got a whiff of the booze on his breath. You finally managed to get him out the front door of your house with Michael close behind you.

“You wanna talk? Fine, let’s talk. First of all, how dare you show up here, trashed! Like, do you honestly think I’m going to let you within 10 feet of my son? You reek of alcohol, Jason.” You were a few feet from him, doing your best to keep your distance and maintain your composure. “Since you want to act like a father for a minute, why don’t you answer some questions for me?” You took his silence as permission and swallowed the tears of anger that you felt welling in the back of your throat. “Who took me to every single doctors appointment, when I was pregnant? Who stayed with Emmett, so I could work double shifts to afford his Christmas gifts? Who stayed up all night with me after bringing E back from the hospital, when he wouldn’t stop crying? Was that you?” You moved closer to him, almost chest to chest. “What about the time when I had the flu and couldn’t even get out of bed, let alone chase around a two year old? Was that you, Jason?” You put your hands on his chest and pushed him backwards towards his car, where you saw his flavor of the week hiding in the passenger seat, you we’re all but yelling now, your voice cracking as you tried to hold it together. “No. It was never you, was it? It was Michael, every fucking time. No wonder Emmett called him “Daddy”, even if it was just an accident. He has been more of a father to him than you ever have.” He avoided looking at you, and you knew that he was doing everything he could to ignore what you were saying, staying fixated on Michael.

“I always knew you two had something going on behind my back.” Jason sneered as he stepped towards Michael “Ya know, I bet that kid isn’t even mine.” Jason’s words made your stomach turn, you looked over at Michael, reading his body language like an open book. His face was turning more red by the second and his knuckles were white as he clenched his fists by his side. “I don’t know why I send you so much goddamn money for him” His eyes cut over to you, but his body was still stalking towards Michael. “Pretty sure rockstar here has you both covered.” He stopped just inches away from Michael's face “I mean since the kid is calling you daddy anyway, maybe you should just take him off my hands.” Jason glanced down to see Michael’s fists trembling with rage “You wanna hit me don’t you?” The smirk on his face as he spoke, should have been warning enough. “Go ahead, rockstar, hit me. Make it a good one.”

“You need to fuck off.” Michael spoke up and suddenly you couldn’t move. “You should be pissed, you have every right to be furious that your son just called me “daddy”. But you’re not going to stand here and get in my face over something that’s your own fucking fault.” You could tell Michael was being careful with his hands, making sure he didn’t set Jason off. “It should piss you off that your own son walked right passed you in the kitchen and didn’t acknowledge you. Maybe if you weren’t such a fucking deadbeat and came around more often, your son might actually know who you are.”

Before Michael could even finish his sentence, Jason had pushed him back towards the house. You knew that he wanted to fight, and he wouldn’t stop until he got his way, he was yelling slurs and practically begging for Michael to hit him. You ran over and grabbed his arm, trying to pull his attention back to you. “Jason, stop it! God dammit, just go home!” He pushed you back with his elbow, causing you to fall down onto the pavement.

The second you hit the ground, Michael had him pinned against the fence. His forearm pressed against Jason’s neck.

In the same instant, Calum came running around the side of the house, pausing when he saw Michael in your ex’s face. “I heard yelling.” Calum helped you up from the sidewalk and made sure you were okay. “Does Michael have this under control?”

You nodded, embarrassment flushing your cheeks. “Can you just keep everyone out back please? Don’t let anyone out here, especially Emmett.” Calum agreed and ran back into the house, closing the door behind him.

You walked quickly over to Jason’s SUV and knocked on the window, motioning for the woman inside to put it down, she obliged nervously after a few seconds and you tried your best to speak calmly. “I really doubt this is what you signed up for, but I’m gonna need you to get in the driver’s seat.” She opened her mouth as if to protest, but you just held up your hand before speaking again, maintaining your low tone. “You get your ass in this driver's seat or I’m going to call the cops to come haul both of you off of my property. He’s a bastard, but he’s the father of my child and I’ll be damned if I let him drive out of here in that condition.”

Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for Michael, his words growing clearer as you as you stopped a few feet behind him. He was just inches from Jason’s face, his words were thick with venom and he spit them at your ex as powerfully as he was able. “You’re lucky I have so much to fucking lose, mate, or you’d be leaving here in an ambulance.” You could practically see Michael’s pulse in his neck, his entire body tense with anger. “You have no right to be here acting like this and making a complete ass of yourself. Do you even understand why she’s so angry with you?” You could tell that Michael wasn’t about to hold anything back, like he wasn’t speaking for you, he was speaking for himself.

You shifted around to his left so you could see his face, you didn’t put yourself any closer to them, still a little shaken after being knocked down. Michael took a quick breath before continuing his assault. “You think you can show up maybe twice a year and start bossing her and Emmett around, like you actually have authority here. You don’t get to show up whenever the fuck you feel like it and be a father, Jason.” You weren’t sure you had the ability to speak up, even if you’d wanted to. “Do you think she gets a break? Do you think she gets to just run off whenever she has a cold or if she’s tired or if she just doesn’t feel like being a mom that day? No. She wakes up everyday, puts a smile on her face and raises HER son.”

You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, hearing Michael’s words, even if they weren’t meant for you. You stepped forward, placing your hand on his lower back, it caught his attention for only a moment as he turned his head and met your eyes with an empathetic expression before quickly facing your ex once again, not wanting to give Jason any opportunity to interject. “I would have NEVER let you in that delivery room with her, had I known that this is what you would do with your chance at being a father to him.”

You saw Jason’s expression change and your heart sank. He ‘let’ Jason in the delivery room? Why didn’t you know this before?

“You don’t have to be his dad, Jason. Y/N has been filling both roles for five years without any help from you. You don’t have to like her and you sure as hell don’t have to like me, but you will give her every ounce of respect that she deserves for stepping into the shoes that you weren’t man enough to fill.” Michael removed his forearm from Jason’s throat and gripped his shirt on both shoulders, pulling him from the fence before slamming him back again just hard enough to regain his attention. “Now get the fuck out of here and leave my family alone.”

As he ended his final word, he pulled Jason from the fence once again and pushed him in the general direction of his car. You noticed that what's-her-face had heeded your warning and was sitting uncomfortably in the driver’s seat. You heard Jason mutter something under his breath, along the lines of “I don’t need this bullshit” as he hauled his bruised ego into the passenger side of the SUV.

Michael rigidly stared them down until they were off of your property and out of sight, then his posture immediately changed. He turned to you, resting one hand on your cheek, running his thumb along your jaw as he searched your face for some sort of reaction to what had just happened.

Without a word, you pulled his hand from your face and lead him into the house to rejoin the party. Parents would be showing up any minute to pick up their kids, and you needed time to process.

You stood at the door with Emmett as he said goodbye to the last wave of guests, making sure he thanked everyone for coming. You glanced towards the kitchen where you saw Michael lingering. “Bug, why don’t you go ask Mike if he want to stay for a movie night?” You watched his face light up before he turned and ran towards the kitchen, yelling for Michael to pick a movie before even extending the invitation. Michael looked up at you from where he stood at counter and shot you a smile before following E.

“DON’T FORGET THE POPCORN, MOMMY!” Emmett blared from the living room. You shook your head as you locked the front door, and made your way into the kitchen.

Just as you pulled the popcorn bags from the pantry, you caught Michael out of the corner of your eye. “Here, I’ll take care of the popcorn. You go ahead upstairs and change.” You walked by him with a smile, touching his arm as you passed. You peeked your head into the living room to tell Emmett to go put his own pj’s on before making your way to your bedroom. You slipped on your Wonder Woman sleep shorts and your long sleeved All Time Low t-shirt before brushing out your hair and tossing it up into a messy bun. You looked at yourself in the mirror quickly before heading back down stairs.

You opened the fridge to grab a few drinks, noticing the bottle of wine Michael had brought you this morning tucked in the door. You grabbed the bottle and two glasses, and poured a cup of water for E. You carefully walked into the living room, being sure not to spill anything. After sitting the glasses on the coffee table and pouring the wine for Michael and yourself, you were finally able to sit down for the first time since Emmett had excitedly woken you up that morning.

“Alright, boys, what are we watching?” You positioned yourself at the end of the couch next to Emmett, with Michael on his other side.

“ANT-MAN!” Great. Ant-Man, again. You glanced over to Michael who looked almost as excited as your five year old did. You rolled your eyes and smiled, opting to use this time to think about everything that had happened today. You took a sip of your wine and tried your best to unravel your thoughts, your mind had been going a million miles an hour since your interaction with Michael in the kitchen, before Jason showed up, and everything had just gone downhill from there.

At some point during the first half of the movie, E had ended up sitting on the floor in front of the TV, leaving nothing in between you and Michael to cut the tension. He turned subtly in his spot on the couch and leaned back until his head was resting comfortably in your lap, snapping your out of your thoughts. Your right hand went to his hair, playing with the ends absentmindedly; he took your left hand into his own, lacing your fingers and resting them on his chest.

You sat like that contently for awhile, until Emmett got up from his spot on the floor and walked back to the couch. He climbed up on top of Michael and laid down on his chest, you pulled your hand from Michael’s gently and rested it on E’s back, rubbing small circles and watching his breathing slow. He still managed to watch a few more minutes of the movie before falling asleep. Neither of you seemed to be in a hurry to move from you positions on the couch, so you finished the rest of the movie, the teaser, and all of the remaining credits. You honestly didn’t even consider moving until after the start menu popped back up on the TV, you even watched that on a loop a few times before reluctantly breaking the silence. You looked at Michael and whispered “Can you put him to bed?” He nodded and stood up slowly, Emmett’s head resting on his shoulder and his arms falling limp at his sides. While Michael walked him up to his bedroom, you cleaned up the popcorn bowls and empty glasses from the coffee table and put them in the sink.    

You grabbed two mugs from the cupboard and began making yourself some tea. Your heart started to race as you heard Michael making is way down the steps. You knew what was coming and you weren't sure you were ready for it.

“He's out cold.” Michael spoke softly as he stepped into the kitchen. “All the excitement today wore him out.”

“Yeah, today was definitely something.” You spoke, not looking up from the mug you'd been stirring for a little too long.

“Y/N, I need to apologize for what happened earlier. I lost my head when Jason spoke to you the way he did and when he pushed you, I-I snapped. It wasn’t my place to say those things to him. I’m sorry.” You turned to see Michael looking down at his shoes as he spoke, like he was embarrassed.

“You don’t have to apologize, Michael, I’m not upset with you.” His eyes lifted to meet your own. “I do need to talk to you about something you said though.” He nodded as you grabbed both cups of tea from the counter behind you and took a few steps towards him. You handed him both mugs and turned to pull yourself up onto the counter by his side, before taking back your own. You blew the steam from the top and carefully took a sip before speaking up. “What di- what did you mean, when you said that you “let” him in the delivery room with me?”

You watched Michael’s chest as he drew in a long breath, he didn’t seem surprised by your question, but his brows furrowed and he avoided your eyes for a moment, like he wasn’t quite sure how to answer it. “You remember this morning when we were talking about when E was born, how I drove you to the hospital?” He looked back up at you for confirmation before continuing. “I knew you didn’t want me to leave you, but I had to go to the lobby to call your mom. You remember that too?”

“It’s foggy, but I remember.” You weren’t sure what to expect or where he was going with this, but you felt your heart rate picking up with every word he spoke.

“Well, I had finally managed to contact her and I told her I would wait in the lobby until she got there. While I was waiting, Jason showed up, your mom had called him and told him which hospital you were in.” You weren’t sure how you’d gone 5 years without knowing how Jason found you that night, you were almost angry at yourself for never asking these questions before. “He saw me right away and came at me with the same shit he had today, saying that the baby wasn’t his and that he shouldn’t have wasted the trip.”

You looked at the ground and shook your head, embarrassed that you had ever been with someone so awful. Michael rested his free hand on your thigh, making you look back up at him before he kept going. “Before your mom showed up, the nurse had come into the lobby, she looked at both of us and asked who the father was. I had half a mind to speak up and tell her it was me, since Jason didn’t want to believe that E was his anyway. I knew from day one that you deserved better than him and I knew that your baby deserved better than him too, but I couldn’t do it. I thought I was doing the right thing, after all, I’m not Emmett’s father.” Michael’s voice cracked on the last words of his sentence, you caught his stare again to see that his jade green eyes were glassy and blinking back tears.

As if his words weren’t enough, seeing him, the man who has been there for you, who has been strong for you for years start to fall apart, broke something inside of you; you felt the weight of it sitting in your chest and you couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes. You placed your hand on top of his, still resting on your leg. He took a moment to pull himself together before speaking again. “So when she asked, I said that he was the father and within half a second he was being taken back to you. I regret it everyday, Y/N. Had I known that he would treat you and Emmett this way, I would have never let him see you that night.”

You gripped his hand, rubbing your thumb along the back and swallowing the lump in your throat that was keeping you from speaking. “There is no way you could have predicted how the last five years would play out. You did what you felt was right and I can’t ever be mad at you for that.” Michael nodded softly. “He may have been there to see Emmett being born, but you are the one who has been there for us every single day since.” You paused to take a breath, hoping that what you were about to say wasn’t too much. “Michael, you not being biologically related to my son and your name not being written next to mine on his birth certificate, means nothing to me. Do you think those things matter to Emmett? He walked right passed Jason today and called you “daddy”.” You tried to gauge his expression, but the face you could usually read like a book wasn’t giving anything up. “When you’re gone, he talks about you endlessly. When he’s frustrated and doesn’t want to talk to me, he asks for you. When you call me, he follows me around like a lost puppy until I give him the phone so he can tell you about his day. Michael, he loves you. And I know that you love hi-”

“I love you both.” Michael interjected quickly.

“I know you do.” You spoke softer now, not sure exactly which kind of “love” he meant.

“No, Y/N. When I say “I love you both” I mean, I love Emmett with everything I have, in my eyes, he is my son, regardless of what his birth certificate says. And I mean that I love you, in every sense of the word that you’re thinking of and more. I meant it when I told Jason to stay away from ‘my family’ because I want to protect you from all of his bullshit that you don’t deserve. My parents, the boys, you, and Emmett, you are my family. You are all I have. You are what makes me get up in the morning.” You couldn’t stop the tears from falling as his words sunk in, his hands moved to either side of your face, thumbs wiping away every tear as they rolled down your cheeks. “I meant every single word of what I said earlier, Y/N. I love you and I don’t want anyone else but you.” You placed your hands on top of his, closing your eyes and leaning into his palm. “But-” He took a deep, grounding breath. “I am content with how our lives are now. If you’re not ready or if that’s not what you want at all-” He was pouring his heart out and you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “As long as I have you and Emmett, I’m happy, Y/N, I don’t need anything else.”

There was a split second, where you were sure his eyes would swallow you whole, because you couldn’t move. You were desperately searching for the right thing to say, every option you’d come up with just not being good enough. After a silence that felt like decades, you finally gathered up the courage to say what you’d been holding back for as long as you could remember. “You have me, Michael. I’m yours.”

In an instant he pulled your lips to his like a magnet. You’d imagined kissing him for so long, and nothing you’d ever thought of compared to this. His lips were soft, melting against yours like they were made just for you. He was slow and sweet until you grabbed for his shirt, using it to pull him closer to you as your wrapped your legs around his torso, in that moment you were glad you’d decided to sit on the counter. Michael’s tongue ran along your lower lip before tugging it lightly between his teeth, pulling a soft moan from your throat. Michael pulled away to catch his breath and you immediately went to his neck, feeling his stubble graze your lips as you began to leave a mark below his jaw, you could feel the vibration of a groan against his throat. His hands moved to your hips, pulling them closer to his own, before abruptly hitting the brakes.

Michael lifted your chin and closed his eyes, resting his forehead against your own. He took a few deep breaths before pulling back, you gave him a puzzled look and he pressed a soft pillowy kiss to your lips once again. “Trust me, Y/N, I want nothing more than to be with you in every way possible. But, we have time.” You couldn’t help but feel a little hurt for a moment, but you knew he was right.

You bit your lip and looked into his eyes once again, he shot you that smirk you’d always loved a little too much and leaned in to catch your lips with his own. You weren’t sure how long you stayed like that, fully content with just kissing him softly, feeling all of the love that had been held back for so many years.

You were jolted back to reality when a tiny voice yelled from the doorway. “OH MY GOD!”

You pulled away from Michael quickly and jumped off the counter. “Bug, what are you doing awake?” You almost felt sick, what if he got upset, how were you going to handle this?

“MY WISH!” You and Michael glanced at one another quickly, confusion washing over both of your faces. Before either of you could reply, he ran over and  hugged Michael’s legs like his life depended on it. “MY WISH! I GOT MY WISH, I CAN’T BELIEVE IT!”

“What wish, Bug?” Michael spoke, resting his hand on Emmett’s back.

“When I blowed my candles out, I wished that Mommy would love you, so you could be my real Daddy!” Your heart stopped.

You looked to Michael who already had tears in his eyes, he reached down and lifted Emmett into the tightest hug you’ve ever seen, before reaching out for you and pulling you into his side; He kissed your forehead and whispered, “I got my wish too.”

IF YOU READ THIS WHOLE THING I LOVE YOU 

Tag List: @h0tsos @hotmessmichael @karr-bash @singt0mecalum @asht0ns-world @ashton-ma-bestfriend @cxddlyash @bea-utifulxliarx @irwinkitten @5sosdrfluke @jordankate987 @aspiringwildfire @wirioutcolors @emma-rose-biersack @naivelystan @dukesnumber1 @problem-w-problemz @ghstofcalum @gigglyirwin-main @gigglyirwin @mainly-michael @lasagnamichael @angelbabycal

[noradarhkpalmer]

Christmas Was Always Special

Title: Christmas Was Always Special

Rating: PG-13 

Pairing: Bruce/Selina aka Batcat

Warnings: Minor swear, minor sexual references, tons of fluff

Summary/Notes: Part one of a collection of mine called “The Batcat Fluff We Deserve” this is set post the 1991 film Batman Returns where the next two terrible movies after that don’t exist and the basic premise being that Selina decided to go with Bruce in the sewers that night. This is how their lives turned out. Enjoy!

Christmastime was always special for Bruce and Selina. They first met around Christmas, discovered one another’s true identities, and made the bold choice to start their lives together around Christmas. Selina almost walked away. She was the one saying hours earlier “does this mean we have to start fighting?” The look on her face from then on broke Bruce’s heart. He wanted to make things work. He knew they could both be better for it. He didn’t have to worry about someone trying to take advantage of his love for Selina because he knew she could hold her own. He wasn’t wracked with fear each night when he crawled into bed and reached for her because he knew she’d be there, that he had seen her out and about hours earlier, heading towards the manor.

All of their milestones surrounded Christmas. They could never quite figure out why it happened that way. They weren’t religious so the holiday representing the birth of the Christian diety didn’t have any special meaning to them before or after their coupling and yet each Christmas, something new and big and exciting happened for them.

The first Christmas, Bruce couldn’t believe they made it a whole year. Sure there were days even weeks where Selina ran off because she just couldn’t wrap her head around why they worked. Why they worked despite her sometimes criminal behavior. Why he would want a nobody like her, why he would want just her when any girl would love to have the chance to be with Bruce Wayne. Even just him without his alter ego was impressive enough. Selina also hated being his arm candy. She absolutely hated it. The way the tabloids would make comments about her hair, her weight, and even ask if she was good enough for the man behind the bat.

Selina tried not to let those things bother her. Bruce would pull her close and reassure her that none of what the press said was true and that what she felt about herself was what mattered most. She usually ran off for a few days after particularly hateful press about her but then he’d find her while he was out on patrol and convince her to come home.

He had wanted to put an end to Selina’s doubts, or quiet them at least. Wanted to give her a solid, concete reason not to run. They still weren’t one for all the pageantry of the tree lighting ceremony so a year later they sat curled on the couch watching it thankfully Penguin, Shreck, and other Gotham villain free as the new mayor of Gotham and Commissioner Gordon lit the tree in bright twinkling lights. As they sat there, Bruce’s arm draped around Selina’s shoulders and she reached her hand up to tangle her fingers with his. Soon she felt something cold and metal slip around her ring finger. She looked over at their joined hands to see a diamond ring and looked up at Bruce with tears prickling in her eyes.

“Do you not like it?” He had said.

“Like it? Bruce, you love me enough to... enough to want to marry me?” She had shifted to straddle his lap so they could talk face to face.

“I love you enough that I want you to be my wife, absolutely. Will you marry me, Selina?”

Of course she had said yes.

They had married the following Christmas, both vigilante and villainy kept them pushing it further and further into the following year until they sealed their union with a kiss in a snow covered church filled with some of their closest friends and unfortunately due to Bruce’s celebrity, most of Gotham.

By the following December, Selina had let her hair grow out longer than Bruce had ever seen it, which also confused him because he knew it would make her overall suit more complicated. He had upgraded her suit (without her permission) as a six month anniversary present. It was now a sleek all black, well made leather and bulletproof rubber (because he never, ever, wanted to relive seeing her being shot four times, ever), complete with cat ears in the cowl and high tech goggles. He made the comment to her about it in passing as he twirled a strand of it while their dinner sizzled and popped on the stove. Her reply nearly stunned him.

“Well I don’t think suiting up is going to be the most practical. I know you upgraded it, Bruce, but I don’t think the leather is very expandable.”

“Expandable? Why would you need it to be?” He had asked.

Selina had taken the hand still in her hair and moved it down to her stomach. “Because I won’t be able to fit in if it’s not expandable and I also don’t think you’ll want me going out much over the next few months.”

He had to be sure he was understanding her right. “Selina... Selina are you pregnant?”

“Yes, I am.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned in for a kiss. “You’re happy about this?”

“So happy, and so happy that I don’t have to fight you on not going out on patrol with me.” He chuckled and kissed her back.

Helena Wayne wasn’t born around Christmas, but their first Christmas as a family was almost their last. She was just four months old when her father went out to fight the Joker and almost didn’t come home. Her mother had waited and waited four hours past when her father had promised to be home before swiftly passing Helena to Alfred and said something about suiting up to bring him home.

Selina had stumbled in the manor barely able to hold up her husband in his mangled Batsuit. Her suit was pretty torn up as well but she hadn’t cared. She would hang up her cowl forever if it meant keeping her family in one piece. She never had that growing up. Her mother was a bitter woman who called her a gold digging whore when she had seen the newspaper announcement which featured a picture zeroing in on the ring Selina now sported on her left ring finger and her father was always absent. She couldn’t even remember his face. She didn’t want Helena to grow up like Bruce either, without parents entirely. Even without witnessing it, she knew it would scar Helena for life. Alfred helped Selina patch the two of them up, having put Helena to sleep that Christmas Eve, so she could dream of baby sugarplums instead of her parents almost dying.

Come Christmas morning, though bruised and bandaged, Selina watched as Bruce picked their daughter up with a smile on his face and she walked over to them holding her family closer than she ever had.

Now Helena was six and refused to go with Alfred up to her room since her parents Christmas party was now “grownups only”. Her wild blonde curls bounced angrily when her parents instructed her that it was time for bed.

“It’s time for bed, kitty kat,” her mother affectionately said. She had crouched down to her level, which Helena appreciated, and kissed her hair. “Tomorrow morning all these boring grown ups will be gone and it’ll just be you, me, daddy, and Alfred. Can you go let Alfred read you a story so tomorrow morning will be here?”

“No I want you and daddy. You guys do better voices than Alfred. With his accent the voices all sound the same.” Helena pouted.

“I’m sorry baby but we have to stay down here.” If it were up to Selina NONE of these people would be in her house past nine. And even after being married to Bruce for eight years it was still so foreign to call the manor her house. She had moved in with him after that night in the sewers, never looked back at her crummy pink apartment. Bruce had offered her her own room even her own wing of the house, but she just wanted the safety of him in his room to fight off her nightmares of killing Shreck and being shot, so she gave her cats that entire wing instead.

Bruce finished talking to one of his investors and saw his wife and daughter in one of their famous staring contests. Bruce valued his life very much and never once vocalized just how much Helena was like Selina. The great Bat being brought down by his wife’s wrath. Yeah he was good. He walked over to them and put his hand on his daughter’s shoulder.

“Helena, you really have to go to bed for mommy and daddy. We promise that if you still can’t fall asleep by the time the grown ups are gone we will come read to you, how does that sound?” He watched as his daughter’s face lit up and she nodded.

“Okay daddy! I’ll wait up for you! I love you both!” She hugged both her parents and skipped over to Alfred who was patiently waiting in the doorway.

Once Selina and Bruce both straightened up, Selina gave her husband one raised eyebrow.

“What?”

“She’s just like you, you heard her, she’s going to fight Alfred on sleep even more now, even though she’s left the room. These “grown ups” won’t leave until at least one and our six year old should not be up that late and now you’ve challenged her to stay up that late.”

“I did not!”

“Oh bats, you old softie, you have that little girl wrapped around your finger. You’d compromise on anything she wanted. If not cave in.” Selina began to walk away but Bruce pulled her into his arms.

“That’s only because her mother already conditioned me that way.” He growled and kissed her deeply.

xxxx

The “grown ups” all filed out around midnight, most were tired and the rest were tired of Bruce constantly pointing at photos of his family and explaining the circumstances of each photo right down to the last detail. Once the party cleared, Alfred informed them that Miss Helena was still awake and demanding they tell her a story before promptly excusing himself to reach his own slumberous state.

Bruce and Selina climbed the stairs and made their way to their daughter’s room. Since black was Bruce’s favorite color and Selina hated the color pink since becoming Catwoman, they had taken the longest time picking out a color for Helena’s room. Black was too depressing for a baby room and white was too sterile. Pink was out but Selina still wanted something moderately feminine while also something Helena could grow into as she formed her own person. They settled on different colors of purple. The walls were all a lilac color and the accents were dark shades of purple. Bruce had just finished painting a large “H” over where her crib would go when Selina had came rushing into talking about contractions.

Their daughter’s room had matured over the years but still stayed purple. Helena loves the color, still unaware of the gravity of her parents nighttime jobs, Helena said she wanted her costume to be purple when she got big and pretty like mommy. That had warmed Selina’s heart but she also desperately wanted Gotham to be safe enough by the time Helena was older for her not to need to don a cape. Because of her dress she more slid rather than sat on her daughter’s bed. She settled next to her and wrapped an arm around her. Selina was still in her cocktail dress from the party which was incredibly hard to sit in but “fantastically showed her curves” as Bruce stated. What curves? She loves Helena and loves that she and Bruce produced something out of their love but Helena wrecked her body. Her catsuit never fit the same again. 

“Kitten, why are you still up?” Selina asked and stroked her daughter’s curls.

Bruce settled onto the other side of his daughter and loosened his tie. 

“Because you guys tell the best stories. And it’s Christmas. I want to know the best Christmas story you know!”

Bruce and Selina both thought for a minute, sure they had seen most of the Christmas specials their daughter made them watch on television, and there were the classics such as Miracle on 34th Street and White Christmas but what could be a Christmas story easy and short enough for their seven year old to digest?

Bruce cleared his through. “How about one where a lonely prince fell in love with a sad princess on Christmas?”

Selina raised and eyebrow. She hadn’t heard this before. Maybe he was making it up as he went along.

“Okay!” Helena clapped happily. “Tell me, tell me!”

“Once upon a time...” Bruce started, “there lived a sad and lonely prince who mostly spent his days in his castle wishing he had someone to share his life with. He longed for just one person to fill his life with a joy he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. Then one day, the prince was meeting with an eeeevvviiiilll sorcerer, though the prince didn’t know that at the time, and in walked the saddest but most beautiful princess. She was the sorcerer’s slave! The prince desperately wanted to court her but she was always serving the sorcerer...”

This story felt weirdly familiar to Selina, she shifted after getting a cold chill and continued to listen to her husband’s crazy fairytale.

“But one night on, Christmas Eve in fact, the lonely prince, disguised as a valiant knight saved the sad princess from being harmed. But she didn’t know it was him. Soon enough the princess was able to defend herself. And even fought against the lonely prince when he was dressed as the valiant knight! And then on Christmas Day, the evil sorcerer had a ball, and the prince knew it was finally time to confess his true feelings to the sad princess. They realized who each other were. Really and deeply, on the inside. They fought one last battle not sure if either would survive but then they both did! And they ran away to live in the prince’s mansion... I mean castle and lived happily ever after.”

Selina tried to hide her tears in her daughter’s curls. She remembered all those years ago describing a life with Bruce as a fairytale. How it would be too good to be true. He convinced her that no, it wouldn’t be a fairytale, but life him would still be good. Great even. And now holding onto her’s and Bruce’s daughter, while they sat in their home, she realized they were both half right. Life with him was a fairytale. And it was pretty great.

Selina looked and saw her daughter was on the verge of sleep. She stroked her hair hoping to coax her finally into a REM cycle but she asked one more thing.

“Were the prince and princess happy forever? Sometimes grown ups say happily ever after but they don’t mean it. Did they get married and stuff?”

“They sure did,” Selina said, “and they had a beautiful princess of their own who they made sure was never lonely or sad a day in her life.”

“Oh good. I was worried.” This made both of Helena’s parents chuckle. “What? I was!”

“Goodnight, sweetheart, we love you.” Selina said. She stood up with Bruce’s help.

“Merry Christmas, mommy and daddy,” Helena said as she yawned, finally drifting off to sleep.

Selina and Bruce shut their daughter’s door and made their way down the hall to their own room when Bruce stopped them. He pointed up to one of the many pieces of mistletoe that hung up in the house. It was such a pivotal piece of Christmas for their relationship that Bruce took great delight in setting it up everywhere.

“You know that this means...” he grinned.

“We never actually researched if eating mistletoe can kill you.”

“We’ve done plenty of research on kissing though, haven’t we?” He grinned and pulled her even closer.

“Yes and I’ve found... kisses give life. They don’t take it away, at least not when a lonely prince kisses and sad princess.”

“You figured it out?” He turned his face away, sheepish.

“Once it got to the part about the valiant knight I knew it was about us. I never thought that our life being a fairytale was actually going to be a good thing. I was angry and sad and deluded into thinking my life couldn’t be this wonderful when I said those things to you. I’m sorry that I ran away for as long as I did. Mentally, emotionally, sometimes physically. I love being your wife and I love being Helena’s mom. You framing our life as a fairytale made me just feel so grateful for those things. Thank you.” She leaned in and kissed him deeply. She stopped being afraid of taking off her mask around him a long time ago. She could just being Selina Kyle around him. Cat scratches and all.

“I think that given how special this time of year is for us, I knew that was the perfect story to tell Helena. We’ll tell her it’s actually our story one day. But for now, she has this childlike hope that I want her to hold onto for as long as she can. I’m sorry that I pushed you at the beginning. I know I did. I was all in, I had fallen so hard in love with you so fast, Selina, that I didn’t want you to slip right through my fingers like so many others in my life, romantically or not, had before. I wanted this. I wanted this day all those years ago. Us retiring to bed on Christmas Eve after tucking our children into bed and making love until the sun came up rather than fighting crime until the sun came up.” He kissed her once more.

“Well then come on then, big fella. No hard feelings, I needed the tough and intense love to realize that I could let myself want this life with you.” She tugged on his hands and led him into the bedroom. Bruce immediately put on music from his one and only piece of technology in his bedroom. That was how he kept his boundaries in life. The only addition had been the baby monitor when Helena was small and now that she was six it was gone.

“Really, you want to play music while we have sex? Bruce, that has been and always will be tacky.” Selina started to unzip her dress but Bruce stopped her. “What?”

“I didn’t get to dance with you at the party.”

“It wasn’t that kind of party.” She chuckled. “But if you insist.” She wrapped an arm around his neck and took his other hand. They swayed gently to the soft jazz music over the speakers.

“I do insist, Mrs. Wayne.” He pecked her lips.

“That has been and will be by far the weirdest thing I have ever been called and I was called a gold digging whore by my mother when we got engaged.”

“Are you still not willing to accept that we’re married and in love even if sometimes we suit up and fight each other.”

“I do accept it. We have to keep our marriage interesting somehow.” She winked.

“I’ll show you interesting.” Bruce picked her up and carried her over to the bed and promptly threw her onto it then covered her body with his.

“It’s only the best way to ring in an anniversary.” Selina said and pulled him in for a hard kiss, ready to spend her anniversary and many more with this man, just like this.

[zacklover24]

Fallout OCs master list

@ahzrukahl

‘I‘ve already lost my father, my mother, my home I'm not going to lose you or anyone again!’

Name: Roy

Gender: Male

Age: 29

Height: 5’6

Body type: Athletic

Hair: onyx black hair done in a layer undercut.

Eyes: Thin Almond Blue eyes

Clothes: Vault 101 suit and leather armour

Weapons: Lever action shotgun, laser pistol, baseball bat

Face Claim: Jeffrey Dean Morgan

Father: James(Dead)

Mother: Catherine( Dead)

Husband: Charon

Skills: Sewing, cooking, medical knowledge, shooting, and lock picking.

S: 4

P:4

E:4

C:5

I:10

A:4

L:3

Skills: Barter,  medicine, repair, speech and science

Bio: Roy was born in vault 101 twenty-nine years agos. Roy grew in the safety and the peace of the his vault, where he expected to die. At sixteen Roy, GOAT told him, he was set to be the next doctor of the vault, and Roy was happy with that. But then Roy’s father James feld the vault, and Roy went after him. Roy would be lying if didn’t struggle or was afraid when he first stepped out of the vault. But with a hell of lot of luck and hell lot of help Roy made it. Along the way Roy made friends, and enemies and found a lover in his ghoul bodyguard Charon.

Charon and Roy carved a bloody path in there quest to save James and to defeat the enclave. After Roy killed Colonel Autumn, Roy entered project purity and brought clean water to Capital. But not without losing part of himself.

Ten years later, Roy has helped to make Capital better than it was. Roy with the help of the ghouls in the underworld and the BOS has helped to create thriving area of trade, technology, and settlements. But Elder Maxson sights have turned to Commonwealth and now he wants Roy and Charon to come with him.

***************************************************************************

‘The house may always win but this time I won and he died.’

Name: Vic short for Victorian

Gender: Female

Age: 30

Job: former Courier for the Mojave Express, is the head of the New Vegas Strip

Height: 5’9

Body type: Athletic

Hair: bright red, done in a fishtail

Eyes: Round green eyes

Clothes: Ncr ranger armour

Weapons: Lever action shotgun, plasma rifle, and combat knife

Face Claim: Julianne Moore

Father: ?

Mother: ?

Husband: Benny

Son: Benny jr

Skills: Sewing,  shooting, and lock picking.

S: 4

P: 6

E:5

C:5

I: 7

A:4

L:10

Skills: Energy weapons, barter, lockpick, and melees weapons

Bio: Vic was born somewhere up past new reno. She doesn't talk much about her past or she can recall from past. She got work the Mojave express running packages for them. One day she was sent to deliver a package from mr. House when she was ambushed by Benny and his gang and shot twice in the head and left in the shallow grave in goodsprings. Thankful Victor and the good doctor fixed her up.

With a lot of luck and some skills she was able to kill house, get the chip, kill Caesar, give the khans peace, make the strip and freeside one, defeat the legion at the dam and become the ruler and mary Benny and now they have a son. Vic has survive big mountain has found and survived the Sierra Madre, came and went to the divide and is friends with the burned man.

***************************************************************************

‘ I'm not as innocent or has prue as people may think I am.’

Name: Angel Gray

Gender: Female

Age: 219

Height: 5’3

Body type: Athletic

Hair: Pastel blue, done in Dutch braid

Eyes: Thin almond blue

Clothes: vault 111 suit, a plaid shirt, jeans, her uncles old army jacket, army hamlet later the silver shroud hat

Weapons:  10mm pistol, righteous authority, and baseball bat with nails

Face Claim: Sophie Cookson

Father:  The admiral

Mother:  Lucy Lyons

Uncle: Staff- sergeant Ken Gray

Brothers: Charon and Shaun

Pets: red wolf Dog named hades

Boyfriend: Elder Maxson

Skills: Shooting, boxing, lock picking

S: 3

P: 6

E:5

C:5

I: 6

A:7

L: 8

Bio: Angel was born prewar in Boston, she lived in sanctuary hills with her uncle and Charon. Her father was busy working at the sub base in Bar Harbour and her mother waa big time lawyer in DC. Angel was anything but good girl she got into trouble a lot from starting fights at school to defacing public property. If it wasn't for her uncle and a detective named Nick Valentine she would have been in more trouble. Nick gave angel a job at the station he worked at, along with being an ear for her talk to and it helped angel.

The day the bombs dropped angel, her uncle and Shaun were heading to bar harbour for the admiral ball but then the sirens went off and they booked it to the vault. Angel watched in horror as kellogg killed her uncle and took Shaun. Now she is on the hunt with her dog hades, Danse, a synth named nick she hopping to get to the bottom of this mess.

There is a part of Maxson that stills loves and misses Sarah Lyons. He never got over her death, he's tried but no one could really fill the gape in his heart. Now Angel comes along, native and fresh from vault 111, they by chance and maybe Arthur thinks he found someone to help him. But here's the thing angel doesn't get it. Arthur could have any women be wants so why here? Because she looks like Sarah.

****************************************************************************

‘ I am only afraid of two things deathclaws and ranger knight and fuck the brotherhood of steel.’

Name: Ranger Lupus

Age: 24

Height: 5’6

Gender: Female

Hair: sun bleached blonde  and the sides had been shaved off leaving the top alone. The back of her hair was tied into a small ponytail.

Eyes: Round steel grey

Face claim: scarlett johansson

Scars:   The three scars which looked like cawl marks ran from the top left corner of her forehead, across her nose and ended at the bottom right corner of her mouth, missing left arm from the elbow down

Tattoos: on left shoulder down to elbow deathclaw hand, back from next her neck starts to where her jeans starts is a pattern of black diamonds followed by white dots, right shoulder to elbow a ghost of she.

Pre-war Prosthetic left arm

Body type: lean with muscle and heavily tanned

Gear: Ncr ranger combat armour, colt 45, anti material rifle from, cosmic knife

Animal's: night stalker named venom, Appaloosa horse named mustang

Goal: broker a peace between the rangers and bos of the east even if it means wooing elder Maxson

Skills: Sewing, medical know how, tracking, hunting, barter, speech, and repair

Bio: Luna was born in the capital wasteland. Her mother and father were both paladins. They were both killed by super mutants when she was very young. After there death elder lyons took luna under his wing. She trained hard and strong to become a field scribe and was close to Arthur Maxson.

But then one day while she and Maxson were on patrol a deathclaw attacked and luna lost her left arm. Lyons had the scribes find her a pre-war prosthetic arm. But the damage was done and luna no longer trusted Maxson.

Some time later the elders of the east coast chapter hated how much there soon to be leader cared about luna. Luna was nothing more than a scribe and he was going to be an elder. They plotted, and knew that even those luna lost her trust in Maxson she still loves him. To make sure they didn't became something the elders sent her to the Mojave, seeing as she being tossed aside luna left faking her death.

The leader of the rangers listened to luna story and saw she had what it would take to be a ranger. She passed the training and gained a new arm and was given a mentor in ranger knight. Luna has survived zion, survived the Seria Medrea and a hero the dam.

Awards and accommodations: field scribe for the brotherhood of steel, veteran of the battle for hoover dam, veteran of the helios one battle, savior of zion, helper of waking cloud, personal friend of Joshua Graham aka the burned man, savior of New Canaan, tammer of the night stalker, killer of the salver centurion dead eye, champion of the throne, killer of salt-upon-wounds, and liberator of the dead eye slaves

[jaeminlore]

Immortal // Lee Taeyong

-

the prompt: Can i get fantasy scenario with Taeyong with The Hobbit/Lord of the ring theme? aka: you, a human, are the best friends with taeyong. the two of you realize the truth about mortality a bit too late.

words: 2000

category: angst + lotr elf!taeyong

author note: ayo your local tolkien stan is here!! I was so excited when I got this request I wasn’t sure what to write for it bc I wanted to make it perfect. anyway i figure some elves must hate being immortal, you know? so that’s what prompted this.

- destinee

-

You walked down the length of the stone corridor slowly, to take notice of the scenery around you. Lothlórien had become like your home after many years of traveling. As a child, you were a wanderer, so it didn’t surprise anyone when you decided to go off and search for the ancient elves realms that only few humans knew about.

The first time you met an elf was entirely by coincidence, and was the main reason you chose to look for more elves. His name was Taeyong, and he was your age or older (as no one can really tell with immortal beings). His dark hair was straight and flowed down past his collarbones, covered by a circlet of bronze. Your thirteen-year-old mind thought he must be royalty.

After talking to him, you found that he was only friends to royalty. Having been orphaned sometime during the war with Morgoth, he had been taken in under the wings of Lothlórien elves and their families. The elven prince, Sicheng, was exceptionally kind to Taeyong, always including him in royal activities so that Taeyong felt like royalty himself.

He knew the truth of course, which is why you found him in Fangorn Forest. He liked to be alone to think, but your company was never rejected. Perhaps he found something perplexing about you as a human. He had never met a nice human, and the only stories of the race of men he had learnt were horrible ones that resulted in the deaths of his elven ancestors.

You were nice to him however. You never pushed to learn about his life, or what he was thinking. Instead, you had asked him how to climb a tree. You had asked to see his pointed ears. You had asked him to teach you entish, so that you could talk to the Ents as they slowly roamed around the forest. You always wanted to learn something. Taeyong knew you hadn’t initially come to him for friendship, and the thought gave him a strange sense of comfort.

It took him forever to tell Sicheng about you. He was afraid that once you met him, you would go to the prince with all your questions. He was used to that: being surpassed by the prince. Although the royal family had taken him in with good intentions, there was always the underlying truth that Taeyong just wasn’t one of them. He was a dark elf. His skin was honeyed and his hair was blacker than the night itself. The only thing he had in common with the fair Lothlórien elves was the color of his eyes. Still then, his eyes were more of a charcoal gray people recoiled at, while Sicheng’s were a soft silver that people cooed at.

You had never really thought of Taeyong as your elven friend. You thought of him as your first friend; someone who you could learn things from. He was someone who would help you become better at your adventures. No matter where you went, you always returned to that hideaway spot in Fangorn Forest, where the Ents hadn’t yet awoken, to talk to Taeyong. You told him about the dwarven kingdoms and how they had more gold than you had ever seen in one place. You told him about the pleasant little hobbits, who lived in their warm holes, content with tea and pastries. You talked about the Old Forest and how Tom Bombadil was still doing very well, and he says thanks for asking. You talked about Bree, and how the mead was always too strong for you and the company was always a bit strange. You talked about Ithilien, the Moon-land, and how it was a cozy little place filled with beautiful foliage. You talked of Mordor, and how it was too far away, but you still had nightmares about the evil creatures you knew lurked there. By your twenty-first year, you had travelled nearly everywhere in Middle Earth. Yet, each month you would leave to find somewhere you wished to go and visit, then loyally return to Taeyong to tell him what you had learned.

When he finally told Sicheng about you, he found out that you had yet to explore any elven kingdom. He was so used to rangers coming in and out of Lothlórien, requesting blessings and gifts, that he hadn’t even realized that you hadn’t been inside of the kingdom itself.

“I’ve thought about it,” you’d say, “but I’m afraid to intrude. I know how elves feel towards human travelers.”

Taeyong had brushed your concerns away. “You’re my friend, though. They’ll want to meet you.”

So you agreed. You finally met Sicheng, the renowned prince, to find that he was quite witty. He and you clicked well, but he couldn’t replace Taeyong. He never would. From then on, Taeyong wasn’t afraid of telling others about you. He realized that you were loyal, which was a trait rarely found in elves. Humans did have that strange resilience to stay by their friend’s side until the very end. It seemed you had chosen to stay with Taeyong. Taeyong had unknowingly chosen you as well. His entire family could tell that you were someone Taeyong had attached himself to. Which is why, as you were off visiting Rohan, they decided to sit down and talk to him.

They reminded him that he was over a century old. Which was young, yes, in elven years. However, you wouldn’t even be around for a century. You were a mortal. Humans were mortal and there was nothing they could do it gain immortality. They reminded Taeyong that the gleam in his eyes wasn’t that of a friend. They admitted that they knew Taeyong had fallen in love with a human. They told him to be careful.

Taeyong was hurt in every sense of the word. Never in his life had he begged for mortality like he had the next few weeks. How could the universe be so cruel that it would not only take away his parents, but also threaten the one he loved?

So he tried to fix the universe himself. He tried to change fate, as if it were his to control. With a long knife, he chopped off his long hair, resulting in a messy cut that barely brushed the top of his collar. Then he put on human clothes and left with nothing in his pocket but a few biscuits of lembas bread. He wanted nothing more than to become a human. He wanted a life humans always talked about in their books. They were boring, short lives, filled with nothing but following expectations but somehow Taeyong thought he could endure that if you were by his side. Perhaps that’s how humans thought, too. Perhaps all they wanted to do was find that one person who would make their short, mediocre lives seem a little bit longer and a little more exciting.

Taeyong’s disappearance was the entire reason you were at Lothlórien and not at Fangorn. You had come here first to talk to Sicheng about the situation. Sicheng hadn’t known what to tell you other than the truth, so he revealed that there was no real way you and Taeyong could become one. You would die far too soon for it to become anything. Everything Sicheng was telling you wasn’t news. You had thought about it plenty of times before. There was always an extra something there between you and Taeyong. You never thought you would have to confront the truth so soon.

You felt immortal. You felt like there was nothing you could do that would kill you. It was jarring to remember that you were just a human with limited time and organs that could fail any moment.

You went to the Fangorn Forest. There, on his usual tree, was Taeyong with his hair cut short. It was attractive, just brushing the tips of his pointed ears. His gaze lifted to see your form, and you could see all the emotion hidden behind the moon nestled in his eyes. “Y/n.”

You didn’t answer. Instead, you climbed the tree with little effort until you were sitting beside Taeyong, shoulders brushing. “So, I went to Rohan. You wouldn’t believe how many horses are in that kingdom, Tae.”

“Really?” he asked weakly, buying into the game you were playing. The game of acting like nothing had happened. “Did you get to ride any?”

“Get to?” you scoffed playfully. “That’s all I did while I was there. I’m sure the stablehands were mad at me. There was this one named Kun. He was so annoyed that I kept making him stay at the stable so he could do his job and clean the tack after I was done.”

Taeyong quirked a small smile, but it was nothing compared to his usual shining grin.

You couldn’t ignore it anymore. “Tae, I know I’m not immortal. It’s okay.”

With that, the damn fell. Elves didn’t cry, for they were strong and graceful creatures. For the first time in his life, Taeyong felt a warm sting being his eyes and the overwhelming urge to just sob crawling up his throat. He couldn’t stop himself from wrapping him arms around your body as he cried into your shoulder. “It’s not fair, Y/n. I love you so much. I want to be a human.”

Your heart broke at his voice, and the amount of hurt inside of it. Every lilt was accented by pain that had been bubbling inside of him for a few weeks now. You were the only person who could comfort him.

Before either of you really knew what was happening, you were kissing. Kissing and crying and touching and just… feeling. Feeling the passion that the two of you had known for that past years that neither of you had acted upon. Feeling the slow burn of love that was quickly turning into ashes that flew into the sky, never to be seen again. It wasn’t an I-love-you kiss. It was a goodbye kiss, and both of you knew it.

Taeyong’s tears stained your cheeks when he pressed into you, his teeth grazing your lips as a growl of frustration escaped him lips. He was frustrated at the world, and the rules that somehow made it to where he couldn’t be with you.

Even if the two of you stayed together until you died, he would still have to live for the rest of his life with you gone. It was better to forget you and move on now, while he and you both were still young.

He finally let go of your lips, his forehead rested harshly against yours as he breathed heavily. “We never should’ve met,” he said.

“I know,” you replied, your eyes closing in pain.

“However, I don’t regret it.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Good luck on your travels, Y/n. I’ll be sending blessings your way. I hope you find a human man who loves you so much more than I ever could.”

“Taeyong…” You cupped his cheeks tenderly, looking into those penetrating eyes one last time. “I love you.”

“I didn’t think this was going to be so hard,” he sighed. “I’ve got to go.”

As he climbed down the tree, he looked back sadly, “It might be best that you don’t return to Lothlórien for a few years. They’ll be watching me closely. Elves can die of a broken heart, you know?” He gave you a bitter smile, “They might make me forget you, and if that happens, I’m sorry.”

You wiped your eyes, “I understand. It’s for your own good, of course.”

You watched him walk away, until there was no evidence that he was even there, save the tear stains dripping down your cheeks.

You felt mortal. Although you had always known your mortality, it hadn’t registered.

You felt mortal, and there was no feeling more devastating.

~the end~

[saxspielercaderface]

PW: First Encounters of the Valto Kind

Phantomwing shenanigans. Jokan leaves his young daughter, Torvi, in the care of her uncle, Malaanskar for a short while, but a certain visitor makes everything go a little sour.

AKA: Kid Torvi is a bundle of office-wrecking chaos and Valto is a huge asshole. Also lame title because I’m half-dead here trying to also write my prelim exam so I can actually be a PhD candidate.

“I’m busy.”

“Please. It’s exam week, and I can’t leave her alone. Not after what happened with the oven. It’ll only be for a couple hours.”

There was silence from the mass of muscle and feathers and stately stoicness on the other side of the office.

“Just a couple of hours, no longer,” Jokan repeated, almost pleading at this point.

Eventually, Malaanskar sighed, ruffling his feather crest and running a hand down his face. Claws framed the scar across his bow and nose bridge, and Jokan grit his teeth at the sight, remembering just how he’d gotten that particular trophy.

“Right. Fine,” the Stormwatch captain rumbled, shaking his head. “I’ll watch her for you.”

“Thank you-”

“You tell her to be on her best behavior, Torvalkaalos,” he continued, lips curling back slightly over an imposing set of fangs. “She’s not only your daughter, but my niece as well, and I won’t have her soiling what I’ve built, here, with her antics.”

“Understood, sir,” Jokan mumbled, nodding. “She won’t be a problem.”

“I hope so.”

***

She was a problem. A four-year-old problem shedding feathers everywhere as she climbed and hopped and flapped around Malaanskar’s office.

He checked his desk clock.

Visskhet…

It had only been half an hour.

“Mal! Uncle Mal, look at meeeee!”

The scraping of claws on wood brought his gaze up to the series of shelves to his left. Plaques and mounted medals and trinkets from all over decorated them and, in the center of one shelf, perched between an ornate trophy of crystal and a sculpture welded together from the scrapped metal of a hunting rifle, perched his niece, oversized wings and gangly limbs poised for flight.

“Don’t do it,” he warned, feathers flaring. Torvi grinned.

“Dad said I gotta practice!” He flinched as she snapped open her wings, nearly knocking over everything on the shelf with her. “Watch me! I’m gettin’ pretty good, I think!”

“No, don’t-”

“HERE I GO!”

“NO!”

She launched herself up, wings driving down into the shelf.

The force of her take-off ripped the shelf from the wall.

Objects fell.

Torvi’s upstroke crashed into another shelf, sending everything on them flying as well.

A cacophony of noise followed - screeching, shattering, clattering.

Malaanskar jumped from his perch, hissing.

As the proverbial dust cleared, he saw Torvi sprawled half on her back, legs and tail propped up on the wall, the remains of his work spoils scattered around her.

“Oops,” she said, rolling over and hopping to her feet. “Welp, gotta try again!”

She shook bits of crystal from her feathers before flapping over to the file cabinet and starting to climb up.

Malaanskar lung-snarled, the sound shaking the windows and sending Torvi back to the floor, hands over her ears.

“TORVIHARI!” he roared, slamming a hand on his desk hard enough to rattle his bones. “ENOUGH!”

She cowered, hissing back up at him.

“Shutupshutup! Too loud!”

He regarded her for a moment, quieting as he saw several scrapes and cuts on her arms and wing-shoulders.

Cleaning the floor and gluing his trophies back together would have to wait.

Nudging his head toward the perch in the far corner, he sighed.

“Wait over there. I’ll get the first aid kit.”

Nodding, she scuttled over to the perch, climbing up and curling her wings and tail around herself. Satisfied, Malaanskar made for the exit, looking back at her before letting the curtain fall behind him.

“No more flying indoors, alright? Once I get you patched up, we’ll go out onto the runway and you can flail around out there.”

She nodded again, ears perking back up slightly.

“Right. I’ll be back.”

And then he was airborne, making a beeline for the infirmary, head throbbing.

How Jokan even survived raising that bundle of chaos was far, far beyond him.

***

Torvi picked idly at her scrapes, starting to feel the sting of them. Looking at her handiwork on the opposite wall of the office, she stuck out her tongue and laughed.

It looked better that way, she thought. More natural, less…stuffy.

Yes, it had earned her an ear-stinging roar from Uncle Mal, but the promise of a more open place to practice flying made things better.

Maybe she’d actually get more than three feet off the ground this time.

Hearing claws impact the stoop outside, she perked up, hopping in place on her perch. Uncle Mal was back, no doubt.

However, the Tyrkovan that pushed past the curtain was not Uncle Mal.

He looked a bit like him, though.

Same markings, similar build.

His eyes, though, made her shiver, made her want to hide.

Uncle Mal had bright yellow eyes, like Dad. This guy had...gross grayish eyes. Like herself. And they weren’t stern and stony like Uncle Mal’s or smart like Dad’s.

They were slimy. Cold. Unnerving as they scanned the overturned office.

“Hmm,” the new guy hummed, nearly gliding over to the mess and kicking some of it with his feet. Torvi didn’t like his voice, either. It was just as slimy as his eyes were. “Maybe this’ll knock ‘ol’ Lightkin’s’ ego down a few notches. All his pretty little things, scattered, broken...it’s beautiful.”

Then, he turned around, and Torvi hissed, wrapping herself in her wings. He was looking right at her, face blank like...like...like one of those painted Human masks.

Blank, dead-looking masks attached to wigs of stringy stuff that didn’t move like feathers did, worn by reenactors at the history festivals Jokan had taken her to. She’d cried when she’d first saw them, to her embarrassment, and Jokan had held her and assured her that they were fake.

‘Resin and faux hair, Torvi. A dead facsimile - nothing to be scared of. Nothing like the real thing.��

This slimy Tyrkovan’s face was like those masks, though it was real. Alive.

And Jokan wasn’t here.

“Well, well. What do we have here?” He approached, staring down at her, and she bared her teeth. “Are you the troublemaker that caused all this commotion and destruction?” He smiled, and it barely even started to reach his eyes. “Well done. Wish I could’ve seen it.”

She said nothing, still baring her teeth.

“I have no manners,” the new guy chuckled, wings outstretched slightly, boxing her in. “My name is Valto. That’s Ariitaalos Valto.”

Ariitaalos - that was Uncle Mal’s flight-name.

“Seems my dear brother caught himself a fledgeling for a few hours-ah, wait. You’re Jokan’s little tail-dragger, aren’t you?”

A hand shot out, snatching her from her perch and hoisting her upright by her scraped wing-shoulder. Valto stood her in front of him, his eyes seeming to drill into her as she struggled out of his grip, hissing in pain.

“Let’s see. Strong shoulders, deep chest, sharp reflexes - yes, you’d make a passable Verkorant for sure, should that stunted, pontificating, past-worshipper realize that he has no rights to raise you-GAH!”

Valto hopped back, a scrape on his shin leaking blood.

“YOU SHUT UP ABOUT MY DAD!” Torvi screeched, scrambling back onto her perch, foot talons stinging from the kick. Using the perch for some extra height, she flared every last feather on her person and snapped her wings out to their full span. “YOU...YOU SHUT UP AND EAT DIRT YOU GROSS-EYED FREAK-!!!”

The next thing she knew, she was batted sidelong into the wall by a massive wing, talons pinning her to the floor.

Valto leaned over her, face still horribly blank.

“I didn’t say anything about your father, Torvi. Nothing but his name.”

Torvi scratched at his ankle, hissing and spitting.

“Yeah you did! You called him a stunted, pontiff...pontificat...WHATEVER! GET OFF OF ME!!!!”

Some kind of sour look crossed Valto’s face, his pupils pinning a moment before it all ironed out again into that expressionless mask.

“Figures you’d be as myopic as that superstitious short-wing. Ignorance like that is infectious.”

Whatever he was about to say next, however, was interrupted by more claws on the stoop and the rustle of the curtain.

“Torvi, I hope you haven’t knocked anything else over- YOU.”

Valto cast a glance over his shoulder, removing his foot from Torvi’s chest and taking a step back.

“Ah! Brother. So good to see you aga-”

“Get out.”

Uncle Mal’s voice was steelier than usual, cold and hard and sharp. Torvi could practically taste the raw dislike laced in it.

“But I was just having a pleasant conversation with my-”

“GET OUT.”

A hand seized Valto’s feather crest, and he was pulled back with a loud squawk. Torvi rolled over and sat up quickly enough to see Uncle Mal practically tossing Valto out the exit, wiping his hands on his uniform after doing so.

That done, he pulled down the metal curtain, locking it at the bottom and snarling through the message hole for good measure.

“Did he hurt you?” he asked, voice now urgent. When Torvi didn’t answer immediately, he hustled over to her and easily lifted her back onto her perch, face even with hers. “Tell me. What did he do? What did he say?”

“He just said some mean things about Dad, that’s all,” Torvi finally mumbled, shrugging. “I don’t like him.”

“Good,” Uncle Mal sighed, ruffled feathers smoothing out slightly. He took a moment to retrieve the first aid kit and began to clean Torvi’s scrapes and cuts. “Listen to me, Torvi. If Valto comes near you again, don’t be afraid to fight him off. Don’t be afraid to fly away. And for Avar’s sake, don’t listen to anything he spews from his maw, do you understand?”

Torvi nodded, puffing her chest out.

“Got it. Hey, I kicked ‘im in the shin!” She chirped proudly. “See?” Grinning, she held up her foot, claws still flecked with a bit of blood.

She’d never seen Uncle Mal smile before. And, as slight as it was, his eyes crinkled at the edges.

“That’s the spirit.”

He continued to clean her wounds, having to bandage a decently deep one on her shoulder. As he reorganized the first aid kit, she hopped down from the perch and flapped her wings expectantly. “Are we going to the runway now? Can I practice flying?!?”

Uncle Mal clicked his teeth together as he shut the kit.

“Hmm...no.” He held up a hand to stop the whine that almost made it out of her throat. “We’re going to the gym, and I’m going to teach you a bit about self-defense.”

Torvi’s jaw dropped.

“Wait, does that mean I get to kick and punch things?!?”

“In a sense...it’s more about not getting punched and kicked yourself, but in a sense…”

“YES!”

“NO, TORVI DON’T TRY TO FLY IN HERE AGAIN!!!”

[inumorph]

Hydra's Rejects Chapter Thirty

Hey everyone. Wow two chapters in twenty-four hours I believe that’s a new personal record. Anyways as always I own nothing and no one save myself and my characters. Warnings: some swearing and violence.

*************begin***********

At the same time…..

Menagerie opened her eyes to the screaming, fleeing, crowds as they tried to escape through the doors that had somehow become inexplicably jammed. She saw the Avengers that were in the room, trying to protect the children and other civilians but none of them had their gear and as such were woefully unprepared. All that is save Thor but he didn’t dare use Mljonir for fear of it accidently hurting an innocent in such tight quarters.

Menagerie waded in as a metallic alloy began to coat her wings, using her powers as she went to swat attackers away. She looked over as several particularly loud, shrill, screams pierced her ears. Menagerie flashed over to the source of the sound quickly using her wings to deflect the hail of bullets before they could reach a group of children that a red headed woman, who, looking vaguely familiar to Menagerie, was desperately trying to defend. The bullets struck the wings and shattered. The fragments then ricochetted off her wings slamming back into their attackers with twice their original force.

Menagerie looked up as one little girl, her bandanna covered in pink, gold, and green paisley swirls almost falling off of her small bald head, reached to tug on the red heads arm. “Miss Potts, who is that?” She asked. Menagerie locked eyes with the woman. “I don’t know Sarah.” Pepper whispered still looking at the young woman a vague feeling of familiarity about her face tugging at the back of her mind. “Miss Potts, twenty feet behind you on the right back corner wall is a vent that will lead to safety. It’s child sized but it’s still safe. Get as many children as you can through the opening, I don’t know how long before it too becomes comprised.” Menagerie said. Pepper nodded as she began to gather the little ones closer.

Menagerie reached out and gently straightened Sarah’s bandanna while she waited. “Are you an angel?” Another little girl, her legs in braces and crutches under her arms, asked with a lisp. Menagerie’s heart broke at the look in the tiny girls eyes. Although she was not quite sure what the little girl meant by ‘angel’ but taking a guess that it was a good thing, she reached out and tucked a stray hair behind the little ones ear. “No sweetning, but you are.” She whispered before turning around as James Rhodes came up to the group. Menagerie looked at him, one eyebrow raised at him before side stepping with a slight bow, waving him past. After all it seemed to her like something that Reid would do and thus was in her eyes totally appropriate. Rhodes and Potts herded the children away to safety allowing Menagerie to see where she could be the most help.

Seeing a particularly tight knot of assailants, she quickly made her way over to help, snapping bones and knocking out more attackers with lightening flash strikes as she went. Noticing that one defender, while awe-inspiring with his attacks, especially as his only weapon was a dinner platter, was in serious trouble, she did a quick flip over the heads of the assailants. She landed on the assailant attempting to stab the platter wielding maniac in the back, using her feet to snap the man’s spine, much as a bird of prey would it’s dinner. Unlike the raptor however, Menagerie had no intention of killing her prey, although if that man had ever had any plans of walking, let alone fighting again, he had another thing coming because those plans had just went out the window. Permanently.

The blonde, whose life she had just saved, whirled around to face her, the platter, though dented raised in defense. She made direct eye contact as his bright blue eyes widened in shock. “You!” Steve Rogers aka Captain America said in disbelief. “Me.” She nodded in affirmation, her eyes twinkling at the irony of the situation. She glanced down at the platter catching the slight movement of the people trying to sneak up behind her. Without a second of hesitation she slammed her fully coated metallic wings back together completely. Five men collapsed, unconscious and badly crushed behind her, as she reopened them. Steve’s eyes widened, he didn’t remember her having wings before. She smiled at him in an attempt to reassure him. Steve saw her eyes flicker behind him on his right side. Instinctively he whirled slamming the now mangled platter into the face of the person trying to sneak behind him. Menagerie positioned herself back to back with the erstwhile Captain America and prepared to continue the fight.

*************end*******

Whew this one was alot longer then I had originally planned it to be. I hoped you enjoyed. Please rate and/or leave a comment. As always, all comments both good or bad, are appreciated.

[peppersonironi]

Batfam Whumptober Day Six

{Read on Ao3}

No.6: “Get it Out” | No More | “Stop, please”

Summary: A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself. 

Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.

AKA- Damian dreams about his time in the League and is comforted by the only brother awake at the unholy hour: Tim. 

A/N: I have a thing or Tim & Dami hurt/comfort. I'm not sorry. They're just too cute!

TW: child abuse (both physical and emotional), whipping (I'm not sure if this is graphic or not, sry).

*****

“You are an utter disappointment, Ibn al Xu'ffasch.”

Damian looked down at his feet. The test the eight year old had just completed had not gone as smoothly as his Grandfather had hoped, so now the boy had been brought forward for reprimanding.

“An Al Ghul does not accept weakness, an Al Ghul completes whatever task is set before them promptly and without error,” Ra’s Al Ghul continued, “And yet you allowed yourself to be overwhelmed by your adversaries. No matter how many stand in your way, you should have succeeded. CUt down whoever stands in your way to greatness.”

“I understand, Grandfather.” Damian said quietly at the completion of the lecture. He lifted his head to look at Ra’s’ reaction.

“No,” Ra’s said, with steely confidence. “I do not think you do.” He turned his back on his grandson. “To truly understand your defeat, you must be aware of the consequences. I believe seventy-five lashes will do.”

Damian’s eyes widened ever so slightly. It was expected, of course, but seventy-five? He’d never had that many before, his mother would always step in before that happened. But she was in Paris now, there was no one to save him.

Ra’s signalled a flock of League initiates, and Damian was instantly swarmed. The darkly clothed bodies pulled him down to his hands and knees, stripped him of his shirt, and held him steady. There was a moment of stillness, and Damian found himself struggling to keep from tensing his muscles. Then the whip made it’s first landing.

His back screamed in pain, the sharp crack leaving a line of burning agony down his spine. It was as if his back had been split in two, with a canyon of ruined flesh between the two.

He let out a gasp of pain, but didn’t allow himself to produce any more weak noises. He didn’t have much time, however, as the whip returned with a vengeance, a few centimeters to the right of its first passing. This one hurt just as much as the first, though Damian was more prepared for the sensations.

The whip dropped viciously again and again and again. He felt the blood begin to slowly drip down the wounds and onto the sparse sections of unruined skin, down further till it dripped on the backs of his bare feet.

Then, the whip’s master changed tactics. Damian let out a surprised scream as the whip landed on an already existing slash. The pain cut deeper than before, and was twice as painful.

“Hmm.” Ra’s said, sounding uninterested. “For that, twenty more.”

Damian whimpered silently, hoping that the whipper hadn’t meant to hit the same place, and it wouldn’t happen again.

It did.

The whip repeated the same tactic, choosing a lighter slash this time, driving the wound deeper than before. His whole back felt like it was on fire, the burning intense and blanketing.

A few more lashes and they had made it to fifty.

It was on the fifty-first that the whip first hit bone.

Damian cringed harshly and was brought down to his elbows. The whip didn’t let up. A few more blows and he felt a spot on the bottom right section of his back peel away. If he could see it, he would have sworn that pearly white gleamed out of the red.

No more, he thought desperately. He hadn’t taken much more than this before, the torture was usually switched to some other technique.

But no one heard any of his silent please - and even if they had, his Grandfather would have just increased the number of lashings. The whip kept dropping with a steady rhythm of pain. The cracks came one after another. The blows came.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

He wanted so badly to beg. Beg for the pain to stop. Beg for his Grandfather’s forgiveness. Beg or his mother, who so rarely showed the affection he craved.

But he didn’t.

Damian bit his tongue as the whip kept coming. He tasted the blood in his mouth soon enough, and tried to use the metallic tang to ground himself. It didn’t work. With each crack he was brought right back to pain that his world had become, there was no calming space in his mind he could retreat to.

It was at the eightieth strike that he finally broke.

“Stop, please.” he cried out, tears breaking through his once firm resolve.

His Grandfather turned back to him, and Damian knew with all his heart that he was going to regret those words.

*****

Tim sighed down at the empty coffee mug in his hand. He’d been working on a case for the past few hours, and coffee had been his one true love for the majority of the time. But now his love was gone.

Time for a refill.

Tim stood up from his nest of papers atop his bed and grabbed his three different mugs. Might as well get stocked up.

He walked out of his door, closing it quietly - if Bruce caught him, he’d be sent to bed immediately, and this case needed solving - and slid down the long corridor that the bedrooms took up. It was quiet - most people were out of town or staying at their own places. Tim paused at the doors whose occupants were present. Bruce, who was at the end of the hall, was still; he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. Or he was at Selina’s. Duke’s room was quiet, he’d been asleep for longer, pros of having a so-called ‘normal sleep schedule.’

Tim continued down till he reached the hall connecting the current wing of the house. As he walked past Damian’s door, however, he froze.

A soft whimper came from behind the door, which would have been noticeable if it hadn’t been for the still night. Tim pursed his lips, and made a split second decision. He grabbed the handle and tested it. Unlocked. He eased it open and slipped into Damian’s room. The boy looked small in the large bed, curled in on himself.

Tim frowned at the sight of his brother, at his wet face and trembling limbs. At the way he began to claw at his back. He was having a nightmare, and it must be bad.

He rushed forward as quietly as he could, and eased himself onto the bed. Tim reached out his hand and, praying that he wouldn’t get stabbed, rustled Damian’s shoulder.

He wasn’t attacked.

Instead, Damian scrambled back, his eyes wide and unseeing. Tim’s heart broke as he saw his brother in such a state. Whatever he was seeing had to be horrible for him to flee rather than fight.

“Dami, it’s me,” Tim called quietly. He wanted to reach out and hug the little brat - crap, what had Dick done to him? - but wouldn’t dare for fear of startling him again.

Damian blinked slowly, still shivering. “Timothy?” He asked, tucking his knees up to his chin.

“Yeah, Dami,” Tim said, leaning slightly closer. “I came in to check on you. Are you alright?”

He clearly was not alright, but Tim knew his brother was a prideful little chicken nugget, and wouldn’t dare admit he’d been crying.

But then the kid surprised him.

Damian launched forward and into Tim’s arms, wrapping around his torso and tucking his tear-stained face into his chest.

“I’m in the manor?” he asked timidly.

Tim blinked for a moment. “Yeah, we’re in your room. You’re safe here.”

He slowly wrapped his arms around Damian, but froze when the boy flinched. Tim searched his mind for what he’d done wrong, before remembering the sight he’d seen just minutes before.

Damian clawing at his back.

Tim eased his arms around again, pulling the younger boy into his lap, while trying to avoid his back.

“You’re okay, Damian.” Tim whispered when Damian began to tremble again. “We’re home.”

“Grandfather …” Damian began and Tim had to resist the urge to stiffen. Of course he was having nightmares about Ra’s, the b*astard still had his hold on the kid, despite not seeing him for four years now.

“Shh,” Tim said, stroking Damian’s hair, “he’s not here. You’re safe.”

“But I failed,” Damian choked out, the tears returning.

Tim scooched further onto the bed, grabbing some blankets from where they’d been haphazardly thrown off in the child’s panic.

“You don’t need to be perfect anymore, Damian.” Tim spoke softly as he readjusted himself and began to wrap his brother in a cocoon as best as he could with him still wrapped around Tim. They’d found out a while back that the pressure calmed boy significantly. “I know it’s not fair what happened to you. What Ra’s did. But it’s over. You’re home.”

Damon sniffled and pressed harder into Tim’s chest.

“Come on,” he whispered, “get it out. It’s alright to cry.”

He wasn’t sure if the small Wayne believed him, but Tim kept whispering into his ear. He wished he could tell his brother that none of it was real, that he would be safe forever, and nothing could ever hurt him again. But that wasn’t their lie. And Tim didn’t want to lie.

So instead he told his brother what he knew was true. That Ra’s was gone. That the League didn’t have him anymore. That right here, right now, Tim wasn’t going to let anything in. That Damian could sleep, that he was safe here in the manor. In his room. In Tim’s arms.

Damian gradually relaxed, the tense muscles loosening. He didn’t stop holding onto Tim, but the older boy didn’t complain. It was nice, honestly.

“Shhh,” Tim said when the tears had calmed down to slow hiccups. He stroked his brother’s dark hair, before pressing a kiss into it.

A few minutes later, and even the hiccups subsided. Damian sighed and nuzzled Tim’s now soaked shirt. He chuckled softly, the kid could be such a cat sometimes. Selina would be proud.

Tim slowly shifted till they were both laying down on the bed.He pulled the rest of the blankets up and settled underneath them. Work could wait, he wouldn’t dare leave Damian now.

After a while, the smallest bat’s breathing evened out, and Tim let loose a sigh of relief. Damian was asleep.

Tim let himself relax only then, now that he was sure Damian could get some rest. He didn’t move, finding the cuddling quite comfortable. He just closed his eyes, pushing thoughts of cases and deadlines from his mind.

Damian was the most important. He wasn’t going to worry about anything other than his brother.

Tim sighed contentedly. He spoke once more, before sleep overtook him. Using the arabic word for brother that Damian strictly regulated the use of - for both himself and others. Tim didn’t learn arabic - which regretted now that it was his youngest brother’s first language - but he’d picked up a few small words here and there, which Damian seemed to find comforting.

Tim kissed his brother’s forehead one last time.

“Goodnight, Ahki.”

Tagging: @starrystories2