#but why would you want to keep doing this

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 3

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 3 Tsumsitters (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 3 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 810 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The request also includes Jamil's and Silver's tsums, but I wrote them before part 3 was even announced on the JP server. In other words, I had to pretty much guess what their tsums would be like, but now I could write them more accurately.

And I ended up get carried away writing Vil's and Idia's parts. 😅

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 3 event, this takes place after the events of the first and second Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it’s the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

Just like the other times, your Tsum seemed restless and wanted to leave Ramshackle Dorm, probably to go look for the other tsums. You decide to take a walk around the school building first and you notice a gathering in the cafeteria.

“If you give it devoted, loving care, I'm sure it'd be willing to show its gratitude!” You hear Ace's voice say from behind a wall of other students.

You come closer, with your tsum in your arms.

“So... Who wants to look after the tsum?!”

“I'll do it!” a Scarabia student offers.

“What are you talking about?” A Pomefiore student counterposes. “That's gonna be me!”

And an argue begins. You stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck to look over some students' shoulders and see an Ace-tsum on the table.

“Okay, easy, guys. You can all take turns trying your hand at looking after it.” Ace interrupts. “If things go well, you might get to see more tricks. And hey, if they don't do any, you can just return it tonight.”

Even though you know this is about Ace and his tsum, you can't help but feel a little sorry for the things Ace is saying. It's like he just wants to get rid of his tsum. Poor little guy. And your tsum agrees.

“I can take care of it!” Your voice rings out, Ace and Deuce recognizing it immediately.

The students in front of you turn and see that you have another tsum in your arms. They make way for you while commenting on how cute it is.

“(Y/N)?!” Ace and Deuce say in unison.

You lean over to look at Ace-tsum who is looking at you with bright, surprised eyes. You say you can take care of it since Ace doesn't want to. Your tsum jumps from your arms to Ace-tsum's side. You add that you have your tsum to help you supervise it and that you already have some experience with an Ace. He blushes a little.

“Wait (Y/N)!” Deuce says.“This is supposed to be Ace and my task. And you already have your tsum to take care of.”

“Don't worry, Deuce. We both can take care of it. Right, Tsum?” Your Tsum agrees and rubs its cheek against Ace-Tsum's cheek. “Better us than someone who treats it like a burden.” But Ace-tsum moves away from your tsum and Ace grabs your arm to pull you with him to talk to you alone.

“You dummy!” He tells you in a lower voice. “Listen, I'm not just trying to get rid of my tsum, okay?! I'm trying to find someone who adores it so much that they would love to fawn over it and take care of it. This will be better than being with someone who is only taking care of it out of obligation.”

You ask, then, why can't you take care of his tsum.

“Because I was trying to get some idiot to do it, not you!”

Then you hear and see that more students have joined the group that fawns over Ace-tsum. And it seemed like they were finding something cute?

You two go back to the table and see your tsums having fun with each other. Ace-tsum was showing magic tricks to your Tsum and seemed happier with your Tsum's surprised reaction than with the students' applause. Your tsum approached Ace-tsum and began to rub their cheeks against each other, like cuddling. Ace blushed again.

“Fine...” Ace gives up. “It seems like it wants to be with your tsum anyway.”

“Why don't we all take care of the tsums together again?” Deuce suggests, “Like we did when mine was here.”

You and your tsum agree.

“Yeah, I guess we can do that.” Ace says, then smirks. “At least now I can split the work between three.”

Surprisingly, Ace's Tsum is much calmer when it's around your Tsum. In addition to being extremely affectionate with your Tsum, it also seems to really enjoy impressing it with magic tricks and things like that. As if it loved having your tsum's attention and affection back, completely ignoring Ace's embarrassment.

Your tsum wanted to go somewhere, so you pick it up and let it guide you out of Ramshackle Dorm. You pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. Your tsum wants you to cross the mirror to Heartslabyul.

You do so, enter the building and you end up crossing paths with Trey in the hallway. He was carrying a cake container. You feel your tsum move slightly in your arms when it sees him.

“Hello (Y/N).” Trey greets you. “I see your tsum is back.” He smiles at it and you feel it move again. “This time one similar to me showed up too, so I'm also tsumsitting. I assume you're here to see it.” He chuckles seeing you and your tsum nodding. “It is in the lounge. But before that.” He opens the cake container revealing a beautiful cake with icing and grapes decorating it, and some slices already missing. “Do you want to try a slice? Tsum decorated it.”

If you like grapes, he will be happy to see you eating a slice. If you don't like them and are sad because you would like to try the cake, He will suggest that you go to the kitchen and take out just one piece that doesn't have grapes for you to taste.

“Here.” He says taking just a forkful of the icing cake. “This one doesn't have grapes.” He holds out the fork with the piece of cake in your direction.

You can take the fork and eat it yourself or you can eat it while he holds the fork. If you do this last one, he will laugh and then smirk slightly. Independently of what you do, you'll feel your tsum moving in your arms again, but not enthusiastically.

Trey asks if everything is okay with your tsum and you answer that it might be sad because it can't taste the cake, after all tsum don't eat.

“Oh, don't worry.” He says to your tsum with a sweet smile. “You liking the way it looks is good enough already.”

Your tsum makes that happy tsum sound and suddenly jumps out of your arms towards Trey who catches it and you see it nestling in his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Your tsum is more cheeky than mine. No, that's not a bad thing. I find it quite cute actually.”

If you are more outgoing, your tsum will make that happy sound again and smile at him with its eyes. If you are shy, your tsum will shrink a little and hide its face in his arms.

He will, happily, carry your Tsum in his arms to the lounge where his Tsum and other students are, but when the three of you get there...

“Is everyone done? I'll get the dishes - uh...” Trey and you see what appears to be his tsum attacking students with a toothbrush. “What’s going on here?”

Cater explains the whole madness with Tsum wanting everyone to brush their teeth. Trey ends up taking his Tsum's side and the students run to brush their teeth. Cater tries to apologize by saying that it took him longer to eat and even tries to say that he wanted to spend some time with your tsum. But it's no use, both Treys look at him with a menacing smile.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I swear I'll brush therm! Don't come near me with that smile on your face!” And he leaves the lounge as well.

Only Riddle, you, Trey and your two tsums remain. Trey-tsum points his toothbrush at you with that smile.

“Let's give (Y/N) a pass this time.” Trey defends you. “They are from another dorm so their toothbrush and toothpaste are not here.”

Trey-tsum lowers the toothbrush in agreement. Your Tsum jumps out of Trey's arms and lands next to his Tsum. They both make a happy sound and the two begin to rub their cheeks against each other as if cuddling.

“Your tsum is very affectionate, isn't it?” Trey comments with a smile.

Trey-tsum jumps onto your shoulder, presses its face against your cheek as if it were giving you a kiss, and jumps back to your tsum’s side. Then the two jump onto one of the sofas and snuggle up together as if they were nesting.

“How cute.” Riddle comments with a slightly mocking smile seeing Trey blush.

You were taking a walk around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard Jack's voice calling you.

“Hey (Y/N), glad I found you.” Jack says. You turn around and he sees your Tsum in your arms who greets him smiling with its eyes. “Your tsum is back? So you should already know that other tsums have appeared too.”

You say you had already assumed that and ask if he was looking for you.

“More or less. The truth is that I was looking for someone who could help Ruggie with his tsum.”

You feel your tsum move in your arms when it hears Ruggie's name. Jack tells you that everything seemed to be going well between them until they started arguing, or rather fighting over the money they earned. Your tsum has the same reaction as you, probably an unsurprised sigh.

You agree to help and go with Jack to Savanaclaw. You find Ruggie and his tsum in the lounge fighting with each other. Riggie has an envelope in his outstretched hand trying to get it away from the tsum, while the tsum jumps at Ruggie to try to get to the envelope while hitting him.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and sneaks up on them while they are focused on fighting each other. When it is close enough, it prepares itself and as soon as it sees an opening, it jumps and takes the envelope from Ruggie's hands. Then it runs to you with the envelope where its mouth would be and jumps back into your arms, handing you the envelope.

Ruggie looked at your tsum and you with the most threatening look you've ever seen on him, until he realized it was you and his expression changed drastically and his ears went down. His Tsum's reaction was the same. He even stutters your name in surprise.

“And h-hey, your tsum is back!” He tries to divert the conversation and ease the situation.

You don't fall for that and ask why they were fighting over the money. Ruggie explained to you that he still tried to give 20% to his Tsum since it doesn't need money to eat or things like that and that's why it seemed fair to him. But his tsum didn't like the idea and was trying to keep most of the money.

You ask your own tsum if that money is the same as in the tsum world, basically asking if it would be of any use to Ruggie-tsum, and your tsum shakes its head no.

“See?! It's not even any use to you. And I would be generous enough to give you twenty percent.”

Ruggie's tsum turns against him again, your tsum jumps out of your arms and throws itself at Ruggie-stum, hitting it. But it doesn't hit your tsum to retaliate, instead it tucks its tail between its legs and lowers its ears while your tsum seems to scold it.

Ruggie laughs at that situation and approaches you asking, also with his ears down and his tail between his legs, if you could give him back the envelope. But you reveal that, knowing him, you knew that he was not taking care of the tsum, but rather taking advantage of it to earn more money with its work.

“Hey, The tsum was the one who wanted to work for m- I mean with me. We earned that money by working together by choice.”

“So why not split it fifty-fifty?” You suggest.

“WHAT?! Are you cra-”

“If one of you worked as hard as the other then you deserve the same amount, don't you?”

He tries to bargain by reiterating that Tsums don't need to eat, but you continue the discussion saying that if it's not like that they won't stop fighting and it will never be resolved. If Ruggie keeps rejecting ot, your tsum will throw itself at his head to hit him. And then he will finally give in and split the money 50-50.

After that your tsum will convince Ruggie-tsum to just rest with it, trying to push it onto one of the lounge chairs. But instead Ruggie-tsum seemed to want to play with your tsum and the two of them started play fighting like two cubs. Which ends up looking more like they are hugging and cuddling.

Ruggie comments that despite what happened they seem to really like each other. After playing with each other for a while, Ruggie-tsum will come over to you to see if it can get some petting from you for being so cute. And if so, it'll turn over on its back so you can give it belly rubs. Ruggie will tell you that you're spoiling his tsum while trying not to show that he's jealous.

You find out that a Tsum similar to Jamil has appeared and is with him in Scarabia by crossing paths with Kalim while you were taking a walk with your Tsum around the school campus. Needless to say, Kalim was super happy to see your tsum again.

On the way to Scarabia you could feel the enthusiasm of your tsum. When you arrive, Jamil and his tsum are in the lounge playing a card game.

The two Jamils realize that someone has entered the lounge. They look at whoever has entered just to greet them, but as soon as they see that it is you, they both smile.

“Hello (Y/N). I see your tsum is back.”

Your tsum jumps from your arms and approaches Jamil's tsum. When it gets close enough, they brush each other's cheeks. Jamil blushes and pulls his hood a little tighter.

They will finish the game they were playing and then invite you and your tsum to play with them. You will play against your tsum, Jamil will teach you and his tsum will teach your tsum while you both play. Jamil will try to make you win, while Jamil-tsum is trying to make your tsum win. And perhaps for this reason, he teaches you by whispering in your ear so that the tsums don't hear your plays. Even if you don't win, Jamil will say that you played well and will be happy that you understood how to play.

You play two or three more times. Whenever you or your tsum win, it's because Jamil and his tsum agreed to lose to see you both happy. But in the last round Jamil-tsum climbs onto your lap while your tsum goes onto Jamil's lap. Thus forming pairs for the last round.

While Jamil-tsum helps you with the best moves, Jamil asks your tsum for its opinion with a cute smile. They both know that your tsum can't help him win, but he enjoys interacting with it in the same way he enjoys interacting with you.

The two teams end up tied. There is a good chance that the bouth Jamils planned this result.

You were going to get up so Jamil could prepare something for the two of you to have a snack, when you heard something. The sound of an insect coming in and cetting closer to you. Jamil jumps and runs to the door leaving your tsum behind while his tsum uses you to hide. You feel it trembling against you. The insect lands on one of your cards and you see that it is a... little ladybug.

If your reaction is something like, ‘Aww, a cute ladybug.’ Jamil will complain, outraged.

You ask Jamil to bring you some jar with a lid with holes and leaves inside. When he asks you what for, you say that you're going to put the ladybug inside and release it in Ramshackle Dorm's garden. He thinks you're crazy but that's okay as long as you lock that thing up and take it away. He brings you an empty spice jar with two leaves inside. You ask if they are poisonous plants, he sighs and says no. You smell the leaves and they seem normal.

The ladybug was on your finger, you open the jar to put it inside but it flies back towards Jamil who screams and runs away again. When the ladybug returns, it goes after Jamil-tsum, who also starts to run away through the lounge. The ladybug finally lands on your tsum's head and the two of you put the insect in the jar and close it. You tell Jamil it's done.

When he comes back, you try your best to contain your laughter as you remember him running away from a ladybug, but he notices your little smile and looks at you sullenly, despite thanking you.

Something similar seems to happen with the tsums, but your tsum dosen't contain its laughter and Jamil-tsum attacks it with what appears to be tickles. After your tsum surrenders the two seem to start cuddling each other.

Jamil is embarrassed by this and pulls his hood even further to hide his blushing face.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you arrived at the Courtyard. A group of Pomefiore students focused on photographing something separated you from Vil and Rook on the other side. You and your tsum noticed that they were photographing Vil's tsum, and it seemed to be enjoying the photoshoot itself.

Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and tries to pass between the feet of some students to get closer to Vil-tsum. But those students notice something moving near them and look down at your tsum.

“Aw, it's another tsum.” One of the students says.

“Yeah, but this one doesn't look like anything special.” Another student comments.

“In fact, it looks so ordinary.” A third student agrees. “Could you please not interfere with Vil's Tsum photos?”

Your tsum still tried to advance a little further, but the students stopped it by putting their feet in its way. And even if you were complaining, they didn't care, they were in the middle of a photo shoot, the staff and spectators shouldn't interfere.

“Listen, if your tsum was half as beautiful as Vil's tsum we might still consider it, but I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.”

With this, your tsum becomes too sad to keep trying and returns depressed to you. It doesn't even jump into your arms, you have to bend down and pick it up.

Meanwhile, the photo shoot stops abruptly and you hear some students say: “What's wrong?”, “Why do you want to stop suddenly?”, “Did we do something wrong?”, “Have we crossed boundaries?”

You see the students in front of you make way for Vil's tsum. When it sees you, its eyes shine, but when it sees your tsum, sad and curled up in your arms it gets upset and turns aggressively towards the students.

They realize that the tsum is upset with them for insulting your tsum, but it doesn't know which one was and they start saying it was the other one.

“You're the one who said it didn't look like anything special!”

“’In fact, it looks so ordinary.’ that's what YOU said”

“And who said their tsum wasn't even half as beautiful as Vil's tsum?”

“At least have the decency to admit your rudeness.” Vil appears, also unpleased, and with Rook beside him. “None of you have the right to decide who can or cannot approach the tsum. It is the one who decides who deserves such a privilege.”

“What a disappointment to have dormmates with such little tolerance for other unique types of beauty.” Rook says sadly. “And so insensitive too. ‘I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.’ Which of you has the courage to claim such a phrase?” Rook looks at the three main suspects with an amused smile but a menacing look.

Both Vil and his tsum got angry upon hearing this.

“It was him!” The other two pointed to the culprit.

“It is also quite ugly to denounce someone so shamelessly.” Vil rebuked them and clapped his hands decisively twice. “The photo shoot is over. Go back to your duties. And the three of you have a meeting scheduled with me later in the Pomefiore dorm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Housewarden. We regret our words.”

“I sure hope you do. But that won't lessen your punishment. You may go now.”

As the Pomefiore students leave, the others glaring at the three who insulted your tsum, Vil-tsum turns back to you and jumps into your arms, knowing that you would catch it. It cuddles up to your tsum as if it were comforting it, rubbing their cheeks and giving it kisses, or at least that's what it seemed like since tsum don't have mouths.

“How can they belittle such a demonstration of love and such a beautiful couple!” Rook says dramatically. “Je suis choqué!”

When you start having trouble holding two tsums at once, Vil approaches you and puts his arms around yours to help you.

“I am deeply sorry for the atrocities you heard.” He tells you in a soft voice but then smiled smugly. “You can help me think of an appropriate punishment if you like.”

Knowing that you were having difficulty holding them, your tsums end up jumping from your embrace to the ground. Your tsum still looks a little sad and Vil's tsum doesn't take its attention away from your tsum.

“Don't listen to them.” Vil says to your tsum. “Just because you don't fit their standards doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You should only care about the opinion of those who you really care about and who care about you.” He looks at you. “They are right about one thing, you two look ordinary.” He will smile in amusement if you look at him sulkily. “But who said that was ugly? The beauty of the ordinary is the most difficult to perceive, only those who truly recognize it deserve to appreciate it. And if you want to know my opinion, two extraordinary things become flashy, but one common thing brings balance and harmony. The kind of thing whose value and importance you only realize when it disappears.” He looks back at your tsum. “Don't listen to the opinions of ignorant people.”

Rook was crying with emotion and murmured how beautiful that moment had been. Your tsum, also moved by his words, jumps into Vil's arms. He almost got a fright, but he caught your tsum.

“*sigh* How cheeky.” Vil said, smiling softly. He holds your tsum as if he were holding a beloved baby.

Vil-tsum approaches you calmly, with an aura of dignity and sophistication. You lower yourself, kneeling on the ground and it climbs onto your lap. Like a cat demanding in the way you pet it.

Vil-tsum won't let anyone else take a picture of it unless they want to take a picture of it and your tsum together. If your tsum is too shy and doesn't want to take pictures, then Vil-tsum will also refuse.

Vil's tsum will try to convince him to give you and your tsum a beauty treatment. And if it doesn't succeed the first time, he'll steal Vil's cosmetics for your tsum. But since it's you, Vil ends up accepting.

Vil will have to keep an eye on Rook because he will become obsessed with your tsums together.

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to go somewhere. You picked it up and let it lead you out of the dorm. Your tsum made you pass through the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop until you reached the Hall of Mirrors, where it made you pass through the mirror that lead to Ignihyde. Once inside it doesn't take long for Ortho to appear to greet you.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He looks at the tsum in your arms. “Oh! You're back too. It's great to see you again! Are you here because of my big brother's tsum?”

And now you know why your tsum wanted to go there. Your tsum nods its little head. Ortho doesn't even bother to tell you where they are because they can only be in one place, but he says he'll have to leave because of the meeting with the Film Research Club and wishes you luck in dealing with his brother and his tsum. You go to Idia's room and knock on the door.

“Ortho? Did you forget something?” Idea asks instead of opening the door.

“No. It's me, (Y/N).”

He stammers your name in surprise. “W-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

You explain that your tsum was the one who took you to Ignihyde and that Ortho told you that an Idia lookalike had also appeared. Suddenly you hear a commotion inside the room and Idia asking in panic what it was doing.

The bedroom door opens. You see Idia lying on the floor in the middle of the room and in front of you an Idia-tsum staring at you. When your eyes meet his, his own sparkle and the blue in his hair takes on pink hues at the tips.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands right on top of Idia-tsum. What no one expected, not even your tsum, was that Idia-tsum's reflex would be to take advantage of this to take your tsum, as if kidnapping it, to a kind of fortress made of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to the club.” Idia tells you as he stands up. “It also kidnapped my tablet. Now it has two captives.”

As soon as you enter, the door closes behind you again. You go to the cardboard boxes, kneel down and look inside. You see, through a gap in the boxes, the two tsums very close together playing a co-op game on the tablet.

“S-sorry about that.” Idia tells you embarrassed. “I can't get along with this tsum. I've been trying to get my tablet back for hours but it is so stubborn. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You think about it and say that if they stay calm like that until it's time for them to go back to their world, there shouldn't be any problems, right?

“OF COURSE THERE IS! MY LOGIN BONUSES! Why do you think I'm trying to get my tablet back?! Listen, I don't care what the tsums do as long as they don't cause me any problems or interfere with my games. And this tsum manages to do both. My room wasn't this disorganized before, but it keeps fighting me. You're good with delinquents, help me!”

If your tsum is really like you, it wants to get Idia-tsum out of those cardboard boxes like you want to get Idia out of his room. Which means if you have an idea you know your tsum will help you. You think about that co-op games and how Idia can be competitive when he believes he have a good chance of winning. Aka: in video games.

So you have an idea, but to do so you have to whisper the idea in the Idia's ear so the tsums don't hear. When you get closer he gets flustered. You suggest playing a 2 vs 2 game and invite the tsums to play, and encourages him to be as provocative as possible to ensure that his tsum accepts the challenge.

“And then what?" He whispers back to you "We'll have to entertain it while I get the tablet back.”

“I can handle that part.” you guarantee him.

You both follow the plan, luckily Idia has 4 controllers, probably because they are all different models. At first, Idia-tsum doesn't fall into the trap, but soon Idia's smugness kicks in

“Of course you don't accept the challenge. You don't even have opposing thumbs, how could you beat us?” The boxes move. “Or is it because you're a noob?” The boxes move again and it looks like Idia has an idea for the ultimate strike. “Oh, I see, it’s because your teammate is a normie who sucks at games.”

One of the boxes jumps like a spring and almost hits Idia in the face, as if whatever was underneath it had exploded. Idia-tsum jumps towards one of the controls with an irritated look and his hair completely red. Idia himself gives one of those scared YEPs, but for some reason he smiles when he sees that reaction from his tsum.

Your tsum jumps to the other controller next to Idia-tsum who looks at it and waves like a true duo preparing for battle. Idia gets prepered beside you and gives you a similar determined smile before he starts the game.

During the fighting game, it was as if Idia had forgotten about his tablet and whenever it seemed like you were having trouble he would get upset on your behalf and defend your character with his. His tsum did the same to your tsum.

It was only at the end of the round that Idia suddenly remembered the tablet and jumped out of his chair to pick it up from the floor next to the cardboard boxes. His tsum did the same thing, but you managed to catch it in time and held it in your arms with a strong hug. It struggled at first, but when it remembered that it was you who was grabbing it, its hair turned completely pink and it covered its eyes with its little hands.

“I collected...”  Idia raises the tablet in his hands. “The Tablet!”

He looks at you with a triumphant smile, but if you are giving his tsum affection and kisses because it’s so cute, the tips of Idia's hair will also turn pink and he will be flustered.

Your tsum will jump right up to his face and give him some affection too, like rubbing its little face against his cheek.

“H-h-h-h-have you never heard of personal space?!”

You were walking with your tsum in your arms around the school campus when Lilia suddenly appeared.

“You're back!” Lilia surprises you and your tsum by appearing upside down in front of you. “Hi (Y/N)-tsum. It's so good to see you again. This is actually perfect.” He turns around and puts his feet on the ground. “You see, a Malleus-like tsum also appeared.” You feel your tsum move happily in your arms. “And Malleus decided to throw a party for it. I was looking for you to invite you, but now that I see that your tsum is back I know that both Malleus would love to have both of you at the party.

Your tsum gets so excited that it almost falls out of your arms.

“Good thing you're excited, because we're already late. Come with me. The party has already started.”

Lilia accompanies you and your tsum to Diasomnia. The lounge is full of Diasomnia students paying attention to Malleus and his tsum. Lilia asks you to follow him down the stairs and when you reach the last step the students in front of you look at you and respectfully make way between you and the two Malleus. Like soldiers taking positions on both sides of the road.

The two Malleus look confused to see what the students were doing and when the two tsums' eyes meet your tsum jumps out of your arms and hops towards Malleus-tsum very quickly. Some of the students (Sebek included) took one step forward to stop your tsum from "attacking" Malleus' tsum, but stop immediately at Lilia's signal.

Malleus-tsum did not move, excitedly waiting for your tsum to reach it. Your tsum did indeed attack Malleus' tsum, but with love and affection. Your tsum gave it a lot of affection and Malleus' tsum simply accepted it with smiling eyes, only occasionally reciprocating the affection. Malleus also looked at your tsum with a special affection in his eyes.

You approached the tsums to get a better look at Malleus’s. It approached you with that dignity that Malleus himself also has, looked at you for a few seconds and bowed. All the other students at Diasmonia suddenly did the same. Even Sebek, although he did so a little reluctantly.

You bowed back and asked if you could pet it. The other students looked at you again with extreme attention and some held their breath. Malleus-tsum pondered, creating suspense in the lounge, but then it made that happy tsum sound and jumped into your arms, super happy. It accepts any and all affection coming from you and it doesn't matter how strong your hug is, just like Malleus his tsum is also extremely strong and resistant.

Meanwhile, your tsum also jumps into Malleus' arms without warning. Hence the students' gasps echoing through the lounge.

“So fearless, jumping towards me like that.” Malleus smiled smugly. “You really don't fear that I might crush you?”

The other students were wary, but your tsum didn't seem to care what he was saying and jumped onto the top of his head, nestling between his two horns. Once again the students gasped in fear. Only Lilia and Silver were calm. Lilia was laughing.

“My liege, please forgive this insulting-” Sebek said, but was quickly interrupted by Malleus's good-natured laughter.

“How cheeky. I wonder who gave you permission to go up there.” He raises his arm to bring his hand closer to your Tsum in his head, touching its little nose affectionately before patting its head.

While you were hugging Malleus-tsum, one of its horns stung your cheek. It immediately stopped and looked at you worriedly when it heard you say ‘ouch’. When it realized it had hurt you, its little eyes watered. You said it was okay, that it hadn't really hurt you, it was just a little sting, you were fine, you hadn't even gotten a mark. But even so, you had to keep comforting it.

After that, Malleus-tsum wanted to dance with you and Malleus with your tsum. You did so. And the next one, the two tsums wanted to dance together. Following this same logic, Malleus invited you to dance.

At the end of the party, when your tsum gets tired, Malleus-tsum will accompany it to you and Malleus who are sitting together. But your tsum will lie on Malleus' lap, and he will pet it lovingly. Likewise, Malleus-tsum will lie down on your lap, even if it is not tired. It is extremely happy for you to pet it.

Malleus laughs happily when your tsum turns over onto its back so he can give it belly rubs.

Malleus-tsum looks at you and Malleus and thinks you're not close enough. It jumps from your lap to your side and gives you a little nudge on the leg with one of its little horns. You jump and lean against Malleus. You apologize, but Malleus still puts an arm around you. And now satisfied, his tsum returns to your lap, which is so close to Malleus' lap that the two tsums can nestle together too.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum, but it got tired of always walking in your arms and now it was jumping around by your side.

You were crossing the bridge that led to the Mystery Shop grounds when your tsum, who was jumping on the edge of the bridge, slipped and fell into the water below you. The current took your tsum to the lake in front of the Hall of Mirrors building, you followed it running. Your tsum managed to grab onto a ledge in the rocks very close to the waterfall.

You didn't know what to do. You couldn't get down there and there was nothing to help you.

But at that moment something jumped into the water near your Tsum, grabbed onto it and grew so big that it was blocking the passage to the waterfall. It was Silver's tsum!

And speaking of him, Silver appears right after and uses his magic to make your tsum levitate and fly back into your arms. But what about his tsum? The water coming from the lake was accumulating and creating more pressure on the tsum.

But the two Silvers seemed to understand each other well and the Tsum quickly returned to its normal size and let itself fall down the waterfall, but Silver managed to use his magic to catch it in the middle of the fall and bring it back to land safe and sound.

Your tsum jumped out of your arms to hug Silver-tsum, who hugged it back, or at least the tsum version of a strong and affectionate hug.

If you do the same to Silver to thank him, he will be surprised at first, but will hug you back gently with a smile on his face.

“I'm glad you and your tsum are safe now.” Silver tells you. “My tsum and I fell asleep nearby. We both woke up to the sound of something falling into the water and your fright.”

Neither your tsum nor silver's tsum wanted to let go of each other.

“Were you heading back to your dorm? We will accompany you.”

He used his magic to dry your tsum and you for grabbing it right after it came out of the water. Your tsums seemed to agree on something and then your tsum jumped into Silver's arms while Silver-tsum jumped into yours. Your tsum was nestling in Silver's arms, while his tsum was on guard and alert to your surroundings.

“I think they want me to protect your tsum while my lookalike protects you.” Silver assumes, placing his arms protectively around your tsum.

You go to Ramshackle Dorm together and as soon as you arrive in the lounge, your two tsums go to the sofa and snuggle up very close. And now in a safe place and next to your tsum, Silver-tsum falls asleep very soundly. Both you and your tsum find it funny how soft he looks when he sleeps so deeply.

“There goes another attempt to stay awake for as long as possible.” Silver says smiling, also finding it funny. “But I can't blame it. I also feel very relaxed around you.”

You stay with your tsums in the lounge. There's a good chance Silver will fall asleep next to you. Or on your lap if you let him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[luveline]

𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

part one | chapter list 

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

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

𖦹

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

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

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

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

“Pregnancy tests?” you ask.

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

“The most reliable. Please.” 

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

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

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

“I’m not a child.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

“Reliable?” Reg asks when you finally approach. 

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

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

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

He noticeably bites his tongue. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Good, shortcake. Have a good night.” 

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

—

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

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

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

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

—

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

“Morning,” he says.

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

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

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

“Aw, good.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wind roars outside. Your eyes start to the door. 

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

“I don’t want to waste your time.” 

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

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

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

“No, I’m an apprentice pharmacist.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“At all.” 

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

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

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

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

“Right.” 

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

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

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

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

“The shop?” 

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

“I feel like I shouldn't ask you.” 

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

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

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

“Kay. Down now.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

“Are you in any active danger?” 

You shake your head slowly. “None.” 

“Is someone close to you hurting you?” 

“No.” 

“Are you alright?” 

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

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

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

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

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

Remus frowns again. “Right.” 

The cellophane on the biscuits is shining under the light. 

“I don’t really know what to do.” 

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

“It’s… something else, too.” 

“Yeah?” 

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

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

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

“Right.”

“Do you think it hurts because of that?” 

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

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

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

“Yeah.”

“And it still hurts now?” 

“Only sometimes,” you say nervously. 

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

You feel caught on something. 

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

“You were assaulted.” 

“Yeah, I guess so.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m sorry for telling you.” 

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

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

“I’m okay,” you say, shamed. 

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

“Oh, uh– yeah, of course. I’m fine.” 

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

“I don’t need anything–”

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You take a tentative step.

“I’m Mary,” she says. 

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

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

“I can’t have caffeine.” 

“Decaf?” 

“Can I have water?” 

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

“Aren’t hungry are you?” Mary asks. 

“Not really.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“We don’t sit in a circle, do we?” 

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

“Okay, thanks. Thank you.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m okay.” 

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

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

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

“You’re James?” you ask. 

“The last time I checked.”

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

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

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

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

“I just… I don’t know.” 

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

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

“That’s good.” 

A tepid silence pervades for a moment. 

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

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

“It’s nice to have options.” 

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

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

“You okay?” James asks.

“Yeah. Um, where’s the toilet?” 

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

“Okay.”

“Wait, Y/N?” he says. 

You shoot him a look that betrays your surprise. 

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

“He didn’t tell you why I’m here?” 

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

“The sandwiches are that good?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

—

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

“Yeah?” 

“I wondered how you were doing.” 

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

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

“It was rude of me.” 

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

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

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

“I wish I didn’t tell you, is all.” 

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

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

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

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

“What about it?” 

“I don’t really know what it is.” 

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

“Decaf?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do I have to tell them what happened?” 

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

“But they’ll ask questions.” 

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

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

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

“Yes, please.” 

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

“We can go now, if you want to.” 

“To the clinic?” you ask. 

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

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

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

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

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

“And she’ll go now?” 

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

“I don’t want to be a burden.” 

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

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

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

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

—

The door to your flat shakes with a sharp knock. 

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

You take the handle into your hand and squeeze. 

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

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

“Hello.” 

“How can I…” 

“Remus asked me to check in on you.” 

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

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

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

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

Just weird, then. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 —

You go to Community Support despite yourself.

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

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

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

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

“Marvellous, then I won’t.”

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

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

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

“Sorry.” 

“We’re on the rugby team, you know.”

“You and Remus?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“Community support or community kitchen?” you mumble. 

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

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

“What kind do you have?” 

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

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

“Okay?” he asks. 

“Yeah.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You like my soup.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes.” 

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

“Just toast, I know.” 

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

Sirius waves him away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neither do you,” Remus says. 

“It’s a family trait.” 

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

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

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

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

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

“How long is long?” Remus asks. 

“Too long.” 

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

“You live together?” you ask. 

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

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

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

“Can you?” Remus asks. 

“What are you implying?” 

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s top of the list then?” 

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

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

“You just need a good wash, is all.” 

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

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

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

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

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

— 

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

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

Your stomach clenches. Your spoon wobbles in your hand. 

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

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

On Friday, James isn’t there. 

“Harry’s poorly.” 

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

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

“James makes a good soup.” 

“He left plenty, if you want it.” 

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

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

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

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

“I could go turn on the radio.” 

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

“You feeling okay?” he asks. 

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s normal to want company.” 

“Even after what happened?” 

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

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

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

Lonely, and with nobody to confide in. 

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

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

“Sure.” 

“Don’t laugh at me.” 

“I doubt I could.” 

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

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

“I know, but…” 

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” 

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

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

𖦹

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

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

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

[chuulyssa]

──── ★ I WANT YOUR FEELING AND EVERYTHING IN YOUR FIBER ──── hwang inho x front(wo)man!reader

teaser you’re left pleasantly surprised when the love you’ve been trying to forget all this while shows up as a participant in your games. even more so when you discover his reason for joining.

starring player!hwang inho x front(wo)man!reader count 3.75k genre dark themes, psycho!reader, yandere!reader, gn!reader, borderline obsession, jealousy, hinted murder, smut but not too much, masturbation, reader is lowkey a creep but aren’t we all, implied angst, cliffhanger ending

a/n we need more of psycho reader content !! everywhere i look i only find yandere characters, WHERE ARE THE YANDERE READERS???

Your eyes froze on the file you had just opened.

Player 132 Name: Hwang Inho Social Security Number: 760202-1171651 Born: 02/02/1976

That date. That name. That face. You knew it. You remembered it all too well. It was as though time stopped. Every smile, every word, every fight that left you breathless in its aftermath — it was all staring right back at you, etched on this piece of paper in your hands. 

What the hell was he doing here?

Occupation: Unemployed.

Unemployed? That didn’t make any sense. He had always dreamed of becoming a police officer, and you’d believed in him more than he believed in himself. You could still hear his voice from years ago: “I’ll wear the badge one day, you’ll see. Then I’ll make everything right—everything for us.”

What had happened? Your eyes slid towards the end of the page. You read the word ‘bribery’. Bribe? The Inho you knew would never have done that without a reason.

Your grip on the folder tightened. Where had all that conviction gone? What had happened to his dream?

Your fist clenched and slammed onto a button. Almost immediately, the door opened to reveal one of the guards. His mask was a Circle.

“More information on 132. Now,” you spoke, though the mask covering your face made your own voice seem foreign to you.

“Yes, ma’am!” the guard stammered. He straightened up as if scared to upset you, took the file from your hands and bolted to the printer in the corner of your office. The printer hummed faintly, spitting out the file you’d just requested at a slow, tantalizing pace, as if mocking the Circle guard for his nervousness around you.

But what could the guard do? You were ruthless. He had heard you had shot one of the Square guards dead for losing track of the Recruiter’s movements the other day. And the next, you had shot a Triangle one for missing a target during practice.

The sound of your foot tapping impatiently on the tiled floor made him second-guess choosing the Red Ddakji. The Circle guard shifted nervously as your pace grew faster. He knew better than to keep you waiting, but what could he do?

The printer finally released the paper, and the guard practically tripped over himself to hand you the file back before flying out of the room. The door hissed shut behind him, leaving you alone with the thick silence of your office. You exhaled sharply, glancing back at the file still sitting on your lap.

Residence: 37-124, Chunghyeon-dong, Seodaemun-gu, Seoul.

You stared at the address for a long moment, lost in thought. He had always had big dreams, and an even bigger ounce of determination to achieve it. Why was he stuck behind in the same place he had grown up? The same place he had sworn he’d leave behind?

Your fingers curled tightly around the folder’s edges. No, waiting for answers wasn’t your style. Not at all now that it had come to him. You stood abruptly, dropping the file on the table in front of you. Slowly, you peeled off the suffocating black coat you wore, and tugged off the hideous mask from your face.

No. This wasn’t something you could leave to a guard or a report. You were going to get your answers yourself. Whatever had led Hwang In-ho to this place — to your games — was something you needed to know.

Something you needed to understand.

And for that, you’d need to go where it all began.

── ★

The streets of Chunghyeon-dong hadn’t changed much. The same cracks in the pavement, the same stubborn weeds sprouting through them, the same faint scent of roasted chestnuts wafting from a distant street vendor. Every turn and every landmark whispered his name, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling of longing and loss that you kept feeling ever since you opened that file on your desk.

You slowed your pace as you neared his address. You didn’t even have to ask for directions. Your feet seemed to carry you wherever the right place was. Your fingers absently pointed at the trees lining the street, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “That’s where we used to sit,” you murmured to yourself. You could still picture it — Inho lounging against the trunk, his head tilted just so as he teased you, pretending to be deep in thought. He’d called it “having a chat,” but it was always more than that.

The corner café wasn’t far, and your steps faltered again when you saw it. It looked so much older now. The paint had faded, and the lights were dull, but it was unmistakably real. You could almost hear his laugh echoing through its walls. Oh, how his hand would brush yours under the table during one of those so-called “study dates.” Because heaven forbid he admit he liked you just as much as you liked him.

And then the park came into view when you turned right. The swings swayed gently in the breeze, taking you back to all those years ago. How many times had you sat there next to him, pretending to be as carefree as he did? How many times had you let him pull you closer — let his lips brush yours just for him to do it all over again?

You shook your head, trying to clear it. Those moments felt like a lifetime ago, but standing here now, it was as if no time had passed at all.

You finally reached his house. It was quiet, too quiet — though you wondered what you had been expecting to see. Of course, he wasn’t here. He was in the games now. The curtains were drawn, and the whole place looked abandoned. 

You turned to the neighboring house and knocked on the door. After a few moments, an elderly woman appeared, judging your posh outfit silently.

“Excuse me,” you tried being polite. “I’m looking for Hwang Inho. He lives — well, lived — next door. Do you know where he might be?”

The woman’s expression softened with recognition at the name, but her next words sent a jolt through you. “Oh, that man. He’s been missing for a few days now. Poor soul, after what happened with his wife... I’m not surprised.”

You blinked, your stomach feeling like it was being stabbed by a knife. “His wife?”

She nodded solemnly. “Yes, his wife passed away a few years ago. I think it broke him. They were so close, always together. When she died, well... he just wasn’t the same. And now, with him gone, too...” She trailed off, shaking her head.

You could practically hear you heartbeat pound in your ears. Wife? Nowhere in his file was a wife mentioned. Heck, you’d have been okay if you had gotten some sort of wedding invitation — at least it would’ve brought some closure to your love.

The things you were feeling right now. They were ugly. Who was she? What did she mean to him? Was she even half as pretty, as smart as you? Why was she chosen and not you?

“Do you know her name?” you asked, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, I don’t remember now,” the woman admitted. “But I heard they were going to have a baby, and then she passed away. It’s tragic, really. He was broken.”

Your hands clenched at your sides, your mind racing. A baby? He was about to have a baby with someone else? When he had promised you that you would be the only one in his life? He had gone ahead and done that?

A small part of you laughed at the fact that she had died. Because how could she be able to break through those walls in ways you never could? Served her right.

You forced a polite thank-you and turned away before she could notice the storm brewing inside you.

Who was this wife? What had happened to her? And why had he never told you?

You shook your head. It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he was alive — here, in your games. If you wanted to save him, you’d need to unravel the truth, jealousy and all.

And maybe, just maybe, you’d find out if there was still room for you in his heart.

── ★

You kept your eyes trained on the screen, your gaze unwavering as you watched him protest during the voting round. You cocked your head to the side, smirking under your mask.

In the first game, he had done fairly well, although you had had to pull a few strings to ensure his survival. Extending the duration of the doll’s singing to let him pass had been easy enough, and the subtle redirection of the triangle guards’ focus away from him wasn’t even noticeable — you were quite sure of that.

But it was his decision now that truly intrigued you. His face lit up with blue light after he pressed the button O. He wanted to stay. Perfect. That meant you would get to see him more.

Although, even if he had chosen to leave, you would still find a way, of course. You would stalk him to eternity if you had to. After all, you had missed sight of him for a few years and he had landed right in your palms. You wouldn’t miss this second chance at all.

Your boots clicked softly against the floor as you walked across the floor of illuminated tiles, each displaying a picture and number of a player. You stopped in front of his. Player 132.

His face stared back at you from the glossy surface. He wasn’t smiling, rather the opposite actually. It was as if he understood that the Squid Game sounded too good to be true. Free money for playing games? There had to be a catch. And he was right.

But he also wasn’t. He wouldn’t die if he lost, after all. He had you to keep him safe, even though he didn’t know that. You kept looking vacantly at his picture. Beautiful, beautiful and untouchable. There was something about him that had always drawn people in, even when he didn’t try.

It definitely drew his “wife” in, you thought bitterly.

Behind you, the faint sound of a throat clearing pulled you from your thoughts. You turned sharply to find the Circle guard you had sent earlier bowing, a small stack of files balanced by his hands on top of his head.

“Leave it in my cabin,” you said curtly, barely sparing him a glance. He scurried off without hesitation, and you scowled at his retreating figure. Too slow. You hated waiting.

Turning your attention back to the control room, you addressed the guards stationed there. “I need footage of 132,” you said, gesturing at the screen displaying Inho’s face, and your eyes softened when you saw him. “The ddakji with the recruiter, the aftermath, before that — everything. Ten minutes.”

“Yes, ma’am,” came the chorus of responses, and the guards immediately set to work.

You strolled back to your cabin. The recruiter’s approach might offer a clue as to how Inho ended up here. What had driven him to this point? What had changed in his life? Or rather, who had changed his life?

You sighed softly. If it hadn’t been for that woman, he wouldn’t have ended up here at all. Then maybe you’d have been able to reconnect without a mask on your face. But then again, if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t be here in front of you either.

Whatever had brought him here didn’t matter now. What mattered was that he stayed. That he survived.

And if it took bending every rule in the book, so be it.

── ★

The triangle guard you had politely threatened had done his job fairly well. You had pointed a gun at his head and “requested” that he keep an extra triangle dalgona on hand, just in case Inho broke his. The guard had stammered out a fearful nod. This was obviously against every rule in the book. But you didn’t care. You couldn’t take risks — not when it came to him.

Thankfully, it hadn’t come to that. Inho had passed the round with ease. You had kept your eyes on him the entire time. Watching the way he moved, the way he carried himself — every little detail. The small quirks you remembered so well: the subtle clench of his jaw when he was concentrating, the way he would tap his thumb against his thigh when waiting. It was all still there, unchanged by the years.

He wasn’t much of a talker, though, you noticed. He stayed reserved, observing more than engaging with others. That sharp mind of his was working overtime, you could tell. Even during the chaos of the “special games” at night, he had defended himself so bravely, you were practically cooing at the footage.

Flipping through the file in your hands, you skimmed the details you had demanded from the guard earlier. Something about a liver transplant, unborn child, undead wife, high loans—

Wait.

Your eyes froze on the words. Undead wife?

So she was alive? The old woman had lied to you?

You clenched the edge of the file, the paper crumpling under your grip. You felt a flicker of rage at the thought. Had the neighbor been instructed to lie? Or was she simply misinformed? Either way, you had half a mind to go back and put a bullet through her head for wasting your time.

But if the wife was alive, where was she? A hospital, perhaps? That would make sense. If she was sick, then Inho would have a reason to be here — to pay for the bills, to save her.

Oh, poor, poor In-ho.

Your lips curved into a bitter smile as you leaned back against your couch, staring at his image focussed on the video on the screen. What would happen if he won, only to return home and find his dear wife gone?

The thought lingered heavily in your mind. You allowed the corners of your mouth to curl further upward.

You had no intention of letting her — or anyone — stand in the way.

── ★

The suit you had picked for him was immaculate. A deep charcoal gray with subtle pinstripes, paired with a crisp white shirt and a black tie. You had chosen it yourself, despite the wardrobe team’s protests. No one else would have dared to question you, of course — not when you held absolute authority.

It reminded you of the past. Back when the two of you would dress up in your finest clothes just to spin around your tiny, cluttered room. How he would hold you close, laughing as the two of you stumbled over each other’s feet, tripping over discarded books and materials.

The memory hurt more than you cared to admit.

You had wondered for years why he’d left you without a word. Back then, it was an unbearable wound, an unanswered question. But now, you knew the answer. He hadn’t disappeared because of ambition or fear like you had thought. He had left because of her. His wife. His child. His life that he had built without you.

And now you had taken that away from him. What would he do now that he had nothing? Run back to you, just like you had been waiting for all these years. Yet none of that mattered as you watched him now.

He looked devastatingly beautiful in the suit you had chosen. His face was gaunt, shadows carving hollows under his cheekbones. His gaze was darker than you remembered — haunted, like he had seen too much and survived too little. But his face was still untouched. His sharp jawline, his delicate lips, his deep, expressive eyes — they were all as perfect as you remembered. That was all that mattered to you.

The shrill ring of your telephone shattered your thoughts, dragging you away from the screen. With an irritated sigh, you muted the footage and picked up the receiver.

“Yes?”

“It’s me,” Oh Il-nam’s voice came through, and you let out a groan. “You’re walking a very fine line.”

You didn’t bother replying, letting him ramble on.

“The VIPs aren’t pleased,” he continued. “Your blatant favoritism is starting to show. The adjustments to the games, the extra leniency — it’s too obvious. If you keep this up, it won’t just be your job on the line.”

You held the receiver away from your ear, his words fading into the background as your gaze drifted back to the screen. There he was, sitting quietly at the opulent dinner table with the other finalists. The suit hugged his frame perfectly, accentuating every detail you had memorized so long ago.

Before you could stop yourself, you stood. You weren’t entirely sure what you were going to do next. You placed the receiver on the table next to you, and began stripping off your dress. Piece by piece. Just like he used to.

You discarded the elegant fabric of rose gold, standing bare before the floor-length mirror in your quarters. The reflection staring back at you was a stranger. Scowling lines etched into your face, your eyes cold and calculating, your body tired. You looked older. Harsher. Someone he might not even recognize anymore.

You pressed a hand to the glass, almost surprised when the person in the mirror repeated your actions. You couldn’t even tell yourself anymore. Was all of this worth it?

But then your eyes flicked back to the screen.

He looked so painfully perfect. The sound of Oh Il-nam’s complaints became white noise in the background. You reached for the phone.

“Done yet, old man?” You said in a bored voice. “Don’t try threatening me. You need me.”

His voice quietened on the other end, and you let out a dark chuckle.

“I don’t give a fuck about your VIPs. If this man survives,” you stared at the screen again, keeping one leg on the couch and the other on the floor, “I will not repeat this ever again.”

“You shall either keep your word and your title, or none of those. If you ever—”

You slammed the receiver down, cutting the call abruptly.

Nothing else mattered. Nothing else ever had.

You poured a glass of wine for yourself. Tilting the glass to your body and letting it pour all over you, you lay down on the couch, still keeping an eye on the screen. You ran a hand down your body, from your cheeks to your neck. From your nipples to your legs. From your thighs to your core. Just like he used to.

You hadn’t done this in years. You couldn’t get off to the sight of anyone but him. And now that you had him, plainly and simply in front of you, you couldn’t miss this opportunity at all. You shifted your body so your mouth could be covered by the couch, and began.

You loved him. Even though he had hurt you.

And you could never bring yourself to take those words back.

── ★

The 2015 Squid Game had ended.

Hwang In-ho had stood at the finish line, battered and broken but alive. He had walked away with the bloodstained briefcase in his hands, containing enough money to rebuild a shattered life — or so he had believed.

You had watched every second of his return home through the monitors. He had entered his small apartment, made a few calls only for his smile to fade promptly, then dropped the briefcase on the floor, and sat in silence. The money didn’t seem to matter to him. Not after everything he’d lost.

You had anticipated this moment with a sick, gleeful longing. His wife was gone. You had seen the death records and confirmed it yourself. The woman he had chosen over you was nothing but a memory now. He didn’t even bother visiting her grave. And that made you smile.

But he was grieving. Grieving over something you had had complete control over. His eyes now carried the weight of loss, and though he hadn’t cried, his silence was deafening. But you didn’t care.

You couldn’t see him with anyone else. The thought of him belonging to another woman had always made the invisible knife in your stomach twist and hurt. And now, you had him all to yourself. Even if he didn’t know it.

The idea of him discovering your hand in all of this sent a thrill down your spine. You had touched yourself to the thought more than twice, chanting his name like a prayer. Poor Inho. He’d be so upset if he ever found out.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was that he was still yours.

The next games were fast approaching. Oh Il-nam had entered your office, and while you might’ve bashed the skull of whoever did so, you couldn’t do it to the superior standing in front of you.

“I trust you’ll stay out of it this time,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Your antics last year nearly cost us everything. No favoritism. No interference. Do you understand?”

You rolled your eyes but nodded anyway, knowing better than to argue.

“I had someone I wanted to introduce you to,” he said when a knock echoed at the door. You frowned, turning toward the sound. “Come in,” Ilnam said, almost amused.

The door opened, and your breath caught in your throat.

It was him.

Hwang Inho stood there, dressed in a sharp black suit, his face calm and unreadable. He looked different. Stronger. Colder.

For the second time in less than a year, you found yourself wondering: What the fuck was he doing here?

“This is Hwang Inho,” Ilnam said, gesturing toward him. “He’s the new Frontman.”

You felt the air leave your lungs. The world tilted on its axis, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“He’ll be replacing you,” Il-nam continued. Then, with a sly smile, he added to Inho. “Your assistant,” he gestured towards you, and your eyes snapped back to him.

If he wasn’t your superior, you would’ve broken his bones. They looked pretty fragile anyway.

Inho extended a hand toward you. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said smoothly. “What’s your name?”

[queeniewithabeanie]

The Baby Bat and his Mentor

Dpxdc Prompt #13

"Train me."

"No."

Danny didn't know why or how this kid had found him, but he most certainly did not want to train him to become a vigilante and then die on the job.

"Train me."

"No."

The kid obviously had some sort of formal training in martial arts. There was a certain way the shadows clung to him that made him seem... experienced even though he most certainly was not. He was definitely determined enough to become a teenage vigilante if not given proper guidance.

"Train me."

"Fine! But we're doing it my way kid. What's your name?"

"I am Bruce Wayne."

"First rule of the job kid, when someone asks your name and you are presenting yourself in your vigilante identity you give them a vigilante name. You do not want overlap, keep the identities separate."

Even if Wes was the only one to figure it out, Danny Fenton and Danny Phantom had a lot of similarities he had to weed out as he realized how dangerous they were to his livelihood. The only reason he wasn't immediately found out by everyone including his parents was that Danny Phantom was dead and Danny Fenton was not.

Bruce would not have that same luxury and would need to thoroughly separate himself from his vigilante persona.

"Now again, what is your name?"

"..."

"Don't got all day kid."

"I am... Batman."

This was clearly an important moment for the kid, but it took everything Danny had to not laugh at him in that moment. The way he tried to growl out his codename would have been intimidating, if not for the voice crack accompanying it.

"Alright then Batsy, rule number two is no vigilante-ing 'til you're 20. Teenage vigilantes get killed and make dumb mistakes, I should know."

"Wha- No! I need to protect Gotham, I can't wait 4 more years to do that!"

It's the first time he had heard any lilt to his voice and it was clear that he felt strongly about this matter, but Danny wouldn't budge.

"Nope, you wait 'til the teen gets out of your age or I don't train you. And rule number three, which is kind of an extension of rule number one, don't give out any personal information in your vigilante identity. I know you're 16 now, and I wasn't even attempting to extract info from you."

The kid made a growling sound again, but it felt more like a puppy dog yip to Danny, actually reminded him of Cujo a bit.

"Fine..." He forced out, realizing that Danny was not going to move an inch and that Bruce did have a lot to learn from him. He'd already been taught three things he hadn't considered in the past five minutes.

"Good, training starts tomorrow Baby Bat, meet at Nasty Burger, come in civies."

Bonus! Bruce: tries to make dick, a nine year old, wait til he's 20 to go out into the streets of gotham like danny did to him Also Bruce: can't even get him to wait til he's ten Danny: i don't know where, but my bruce-is-doing-something-stupid-and-potentially-harmful-sense is tingling and i don't like it!

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Collection

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: N/A

Summary: You keep every single puck that Quinn has ever given you, he finds your collection that you've been shyly hiding away. It might just be the thing that makes him realise you're the girl he's going to marry.

Notes: I just want a boyfriend who'll give me a puck from every one of his games, is that too much to ask?

Totally happy to take requests/ideas/prompts at the moment in my ask box :)

Writing Masterlist

It starts quite simply enough with an ice hockey game, like most things did with Quinn Hughes. The two of you had known each other for a while, acquaintances through Kiefer, acquaintances who then had become somewhat friends, but by no means were you close. That had changed one afternoon when Quinn had asked if you'd come to watch him play, not watch the team, not watch Kiefer, but watch him. This had seemed quite the clear hint that he was interested, or at least Quinn had considered this a neon flashing sign telling you he was interested. He considered this him shooting his shot.

It later transpired that Quinn considered this your first date, despite the fact he was on the ice and you were beside the penalty box, and that he'd not mentioned once the word date to you, but that's a story for another time.

The important part of this first-date-that-didn't-seem-like-a-first-date was not just that it set in motion your changing relationship status from somewhat friends to boyfriend and girlfriend, but that it was the first time Quinn Hughes ever gave you a puck. Something which to many would seem inconsequential. People got hockey pucks every day, every game. Thousands of fans owned pucks from hockey games, in that sense you were not particularly special.

It had felt so silly, and so girlish at the time, to be excited over an ice hockey puck of all things just because Quinn had tipped it over the glass to you specifically. And it had been for you, the glare he'd sent to those around you who even looked like they might snatch it had been lethal. It had felt even sillier to take that puck, cradle it the entire game, squirrel it all the way home only to write the date and a simple sentence on it in metallic gold pen, 'Quinn asked me to his game'. You're not entirely sure what had possessed you to do it, why it felt like something you needed to record. It had felt so...silly to do but you'd been unable to resist.

You'd squirrelled the puck away in a box in the back of your closet, out of sight of prying eyes, but it hadn't been forgotten by you. In fact, it was seen every single time you went to one of Quinn's games. After each game you'd inevitably come back with a new puck, another one to add to the collection of pucks that you were growing. At first the number was relatively slow to grow, you didn't go to every game, not during the weird stage where Quinn had yet to outright ask you out and you, oblivious as ever didn't realise he'd been trying for weeks.

As Quinn and you began officially dating you found yourself constantly receiving pucks, every game you went to he had a puck for you and at the end of the night you'd write the date and a simple sentence on it of something that had happened that night, something significant in your relationship or simply something significant to you even if it didn't seem significant to anyone else.

Still, the box remained hidden in the back of your closet, something you almost felt too shy to share. Even now that Quinn and you were in a relationship, even now 2 years down the line when he'd asked you to move in with him once your lease was up, it still felt scary to share it. Realistically you knew Quinn wouldn't be put off by it, the sort of sentimental person he was, he'd likely love it. That didn't stop the irrational fear. Especially given how personal some of the pucks were to you. It just felt embarrassing like showing him your blog from when you were thirteen or sharing a sketchbook from when you were twelve.

Moving apartments had been as simple as moving apartments could get, which is to say not simple in the slightest. Moving your things into Quinn's place had felt a little like playing Tetris, trying to find spaces for all your books and knickknacks without completely taking over his space. Trying to find a balance between his things and yours. In that chaos you'd managed to sneak your box of pucks in and to the back of your section of closet, a, in your opinion, perfect hiding spot.

It was not in fact a perfect hiding spot. Perhaps you were naive to think that Quinn wouldn't ever find them even when you shared such close quarters? Or perhaps you'd simply been avoiding the reality, trying to forget about it except in those few moments when you got home from a game before him and rushed to write on your puck and throw it into the box along with its brethren.

Either way, whether naivety or a desire to avoid the issue, it didn't stop you from finding him in that moment sat on the floor of your shared bedroom, looking incredibly cozy in a big hoodie and sweatpants, but pawing through your box that lay in front of him. The cardboard worn and battered from years of use.

"What are doing?" You knew exactly what he was doing, you could see two years worth of pucks piled high in front of him, one currently being turned over in his hands, but the panic seemingly made your brain stop working. Processing the scene felt impossible, you could see what was happening but couldn't quite comprehend it. Quinn was careful with the pucks, almost reverent as he put the one he was currently holding off to the side and reached for another, reading whatever you'd written on it.

"You kept them?" Quinn's voice is quiet, soft, an almost whisper that has you stepping further into the room even as you twist your fingers together nervous of his reaction.

"How...how did you find them?" Perhaps it was silly to think you could keep them hidden, after all you couldn't exactly claim you'd hidden them in some elaborate or overly complicated fashion. They were simply in a ratty old cardboard box in the very back of your half of the closet. It's not like you'd hidden them in some secret compartment.

"I was looking for my ugly Christmas jumper for the party on Sunday...didn't realise you'd kept them all. Why'd you hide them?" He smiles up and over at you from his spot, looking boyish and sweet even as you internally panic about the discovery he's made.

"I...I just...it's embarrassing." You shuffle nearer even as you say it, seeking his reassurance without quite truly realising it. When you're within reach of him, Quinn tugs on your hand to pull you closer from his position on the floor, cross legged and leaning back against the side of the bed.

"Baby, it's not embarrassing, it's sweet...you kept every puck I've ever given you. That's...I love that. C'mere." He tugs you down to the ground, until you're sitting side by the side with him and he can wrap an arm around you. He's warm and smells like the laundry detergent you use, it's calming, reassuring even as you still feel that rush of embarrassment at being found out.

Quinn reaches for a puck he'd put off to the side, it's worn and tarnished, dents from being hit across the ice during warm ups marring it, the logos of Seattle and Vancouver hidden underneath your writing in gold metallic pen.

"See, look, this is the puck I gave you on the day we had our first kiss." You'd written across the front 'Quinn kissed me today!!!!!!!!!' followed by more exclamation marks than was reasonable for anyone to use. You could remember the game clearly, Quinn had asked you to come along, you'd still not quite realised that he was trying to date you and your obliviousness had set a fire underneath him. He'd been so fed up that he'd forgotten what subtlety was. After a hard fought win, he'd rushed towards you in the corridor by the locker room and kissed you in front of half his teammates, all of whom had decided that was a great time to cheer and whistle like they were at a football game. You'd been surprised by it, taken aback, needing a few moments to process before returning the kiss, but you hadn't been unhappy with the sudden turn of events that had you practically unable to form words afterwards.

Quinn's careful as he puts it back before reaching for another puck, rooting around in the box before he pulls out one with the Canuck's orca emblazoned across it. Quinn takes a moment to read it before practically beaming over at you, eyes bright and excited.

"This one is from the game where I took you on the ice after and taught you how to skate," The puck had a creative attempt at drawing yourself and Quinn in ice skates, stick figure form of course, 'Quinn tried to teach me to skate after the game.'

"You mean you tried to teach me how to skate...last I remember I'm still not great..." You tap a nail against the 'tried' in your handwriting and Quinn just grins at you, any lasting embarrassment has started to disappear, and instead you're left with a sense of warmth. That you have all these memories to look back on, moments you might have forgotten about otherwise.

"You're just a work in progress, baby, you can stay upright...most of the time..." You shake your head at him, rolling your eyes as he teases you. It was a well known fact that you were nowhere near as graceful as Quinn was on the ice, having never really ice skated as a child.

You reach into the pile and pick another puck out, a pride night one, reading the caption quickly and very much deciding that this is one Quinn doesn't need to see, "Oh, not, you're not reading this one!"

"Give it here!" You reach away from him, arm as straight as you can get it to hold the puck as far from him as possible. Naturally, it does very little, Quinn and his long arms simply lean over you and pluck the puck from your grip with ridiculous ease.

You groan, pressing your face into his shoulder to hide away from whatever judgement might pass across his face as he reads off the puck, one of the early ones, from before you even realised he wanted you. From the days when you were pining, crushing hard on a man you thought you'd never have.

"Quinn smiled at me during warm ups'...Oh, baby, that's cute," Quinn grasps the nape of your neck in his hand, pulling until you turn to look at him, your cheek still smushed against his shoulder.

"We weren't dating then...and you were always so locked in..." You try to justify it, that back then his smiles were rarer, he was always so focused on the game that a smile was special, that any little interaction felt special because he wasn't yours yet, but it doesn't stop you feeling silly and embarrassed that you'd felt a smile during warm ups was important enough to put on a puck. At the time it had felt like the only thing that mattered, that Quinn had smiled at you, that his focus had been on you.

"I always have a smile for you...even back then, I was always excited when you agreed to come to a game...it made me want to play ten times harder, baby, still does." Quinn can't remember a time when he wasn't excited to see you at a game, to know you were there to support him, even in the early days. If anything the early days were even more exciting, simple because it didn't feel like a given that you'd be there. You weren't his girlfriend back then, you didn't have to be there, he couldn't complain if you weren't. So seeing you had always felt like he'd won a prize because you'd given up your time to watch him play in a freezing cold arena even knowing you'd barely get to talk to him.

"They're silly..." You gesture to the array of pucks, the number feeling ridiculous. How had you managed to collect over 100 pucks? Why had you decided to keep them all?

You stop your self-doubt and wallowing at the feeling of Quinn pressing a kiss to your hair, tugging you into his lap until you're as close as he can get you. Quinn is gentle when he runs his palm from the nape of your neck down to the base of your spine and back again, a soothing rhythm that makes you feel more confident when you look him in the eye.

"They're sweet...this is our entire story in pucks, can't get better than that..." The way he smiles at you is so soft and sweet that you wonder why you were ever scared of him finding them, "Don't stop doing it, baby...Promise me."

"I'll run out of space in my box though..." You look down at the almost full, falling apart cardboard box from one of your deliveries 2 years prior, the corners starting to tear, the free space inside almost non-existent.

"Then I'll get you a bigger box. I want to be 90 years old and have a thousand pucks in a giant box, each with something you thought was special enough to write on it... even if it is..." He picks up a puck squinting at it, "'I made Quinn laugh.' or," Quinn finds another from the pile, "'Quinn said my hair looked pretty', although maybe I need to be setting the bar higher, baby" He teases you, flipping the puck between his fingers with ease.

"I was pining after you, okay, and I wasn't sure you liked me back then!"

"Yeah, I forget, me asking you to come watch me play wasn't clear enough!" Quinn has been adamant for years that it was obvious he was asking you on a date, that you were just oblivious. He was, of course, wrong. Asking someone to come watch them play hockey was not in any way an obvious invite to a date and you refused to take responsibility for the earlier miscommunication which was clearly all his fault.

"It's not clear at all, honey! People ask people to watch them play all the time, it doesn't make it a date!"

"It was so a date!" a date in which you spent near 3 hours in the freezing cold and barely spoke to Quinn...definitely what a date is supposed to be. No wonder he was single for so long when you met him.

"Honestly, I'm starting to think you're lucky I liked you enough to put up with you..."

"...I am lucky...I'm lucky you gave me a chance and that you liked me enough to keep all these pucks and I'm lucky you agreed to move in with me even if you hide pucks in the closet like some weirdo." Quinn grips your hips, squeezing gently, smiling up at you sweetly even as he calls you a weirdo like he's not the one who thought watching him play hockey would be a good first date idea.

"You'll be lucky to sleep in the bed tonight if you keep that up,"

"You'd kick me out of our bed, baby? Really?" Quinn pouts at you as you grin down at him from your perch on his lap, arms wrapping over his shoulders and crossing behind his neck.

"...I'm joking, I can't sleep without your snores." If you could call his barely there noises snores, the lightest of snores, the sort of snores that were almost perfectly rhythmic rather than annoyingly inconsistent. Before Quinn you'd been adamant you couldn't date someone who snored, that it would make it too hard to sleep, now? Now, you genuinely missed them when he was gone. The noise a comforting backing track.

"You should put that on the next puck, 'I can't sleep without Quinn's snores in my ear and his manly arms around me'."

"'Manly arms'?" You pull back from him slightly, brows raised in question and an amused twist to your lips.

"You don't think my arms are manly, baby?" You laugh as Quinn raises one arm, flexing his bicep. You can't even see his muscles underneath his baggy hoodie, too well hidden within his cocoon of comfy cotton and polyester.

"I think you're ridiculous...." You shake your head at him, settling back in against him as he peers down at you with eyes that can only be described as loving, soft around the edges and almost hazy.

"Well, I think I'm in love with you."

You sigh happily as you reach for the box of pucks just behind you. You find a puck you know from sight alone, plucking it from the box and handing it to Quinn in response. You watch him read it, the way his smile turns to a full grin that beams at you like you've given him the moon. When in reality its just a ratty puck that says, 'I think I'm in love with Quinn Hughes'.

[vanteguccir]

hi i hope you're having a wonderful day!!

im thinking about reader pranking matt by not calling him his nickname that she always uses for a whole day. he just follows her around like a lost puppy and keep asking "are you okay baby? are you mad at me? did i do something :(" aaa hes so cute. hope you can write this <3 tq!!

── ୨୧ !　TIKTOK BLURB

matt sturniolo x reader

where you decide to make the tiktok trend 'call your boyfriend by his name to see his reaction' with matt

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

The soft hum of the computer filled the bedroom, mixing with the faint sound effects from Matt's favorite video game. The middle triplet sat at his computer desk, completely engrossed, his blue eyes darting across the screen as his fingers moved quickly over the keyboard. His headphones perched on his head, slightly askew to let one ear breathe.

Y/N lay sprawled across their shared bed, her legs lazily swinging in the air, phone in hand as she scrolled through TikTok. A grin curled on her lips when she stumbled across a trend she had seen earlier that week; call your boyfriend by his actual name to see his reaction.

Her eyes danced from her phone screen - with the video replaying again and again - to her boyfriend and back before shrugging.

Carefully, she clicked on the middle black button on the app and propped the device up against Matt's pillow, ensuring the camera had a clear view of him sitting at his desk. With his headset on, Matt was oblivious, muttering random things under his breath. Y/N pressed record, suppressing a giggle as she prepared to execute her plan.

"Hey, Matt, can you turn off the lights for me? Please." She asked casually.

Matt froze mid-action. His character on the screen stood idle for a moment, vulnerable to an oncoming enemy attack. He yanked his headphones off with one hand, letting them dangle around his neck, and swiveled his chair around to face her.

"Are... are you okay, sweetheart?" He asked, his brows furrowed, concern dripping from his voice.

Y/N bit the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

"Yeah, of course." She replied nonchalantly, still feigning innocence.

Matt tilted his head like a confused puppy, his lips slightly parted.

"Are you mad at me?" He asked hesitantly, his voice soft.

Her brow furrowed.

"Mad? No. Why would I be mad at you?"

He leaned forward, clutching the armrest of his chair with his hand.

"Did I do something? Like... do you not want me to play right now? 'Cause that's okay! We can do something else if you want."

The corners of Y/N's lips twitched, but she maintained her poker face.

"No, Matt, you’re fine. I don’t mind you playing."

Matt's brows seemed to furrow deeper, his eyes wandering from her to his computer and back. He hesitated for a beat before blurting out.

"Then stop calling me that! Why are you doing this?"

Y/N tilted her head, feigning confusion.

"Calling you what? Matt? That's your name."

"No." He said firmly, shaking his head like a child rejecting a ridiculous claim. His plump lips pressed into a pout, and he gestured toward her dramatically. "My name is baby."

Y/N couldn’t hold it in anymore. A snort escaped her, quickly followed by a cascade of laughter that had her clutching her stomach, her movements causing her phone to shake against the pillow.

"Matt, what are you even talking about?"

Matt leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms indignantly.

"You always call me baby. Or babe. Or honey. Never Matt! That's not my name to you."

Her laughter only grew louder, and she buried her face in the duvet by her feet to muffle the sound.

"I knew it!" He exclaimed, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. "You’re mad at me! What did I do? Tell me so I can fix it!"

"Matt." She gasped between fits of laughter, sitting up and holding her arms out toward him. "I’m not mad at you! It’s a TikTok trend!"

"A trend?" His face scrunched in confusion.

"Yeah! You call your boyfriend by his name to see his reaction."

Realization dawned on him, and his pout deepened, his milky skin taking on a pink hue.

"So you were messing with me."

She nodded, still giggling.

"I was. And you fell for it."

Matt pushed off from his desk and crossed the room in long strides, flopping onto the bed beside her, messing the blue sheets. He grabbed her phone and locked it without even looking at the screen, tossing it onto the nightstand.

"You’re evil." He mumbled, burying his face into her neck while pressing her body against the mattress with his arm across her stomach.

"I am not!" She protested, squirming as he peppered her skin with quick kisses.

"You are. I was genuinely worried. And now you’re laughing at me. Do you see how cruel this is?"

"Okay, okay." She relented, wrapping her arms around his neck, pressing his more against herself. "I’m sorry. But, for the record, you calling yourself 'baby' was the best thing ever."

Matt lifted his head, squinting his eyes at her.

"Well... you should stick to the classics, okay? No more 'Matt.' It freaks me out."

"Deal." She agreed, leaning up to press a kiss to his chin, the groing stubble tickling her lips. "No more 'Matt.' I promise."

He huffed dramatically, but a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Good. Now, can I go back to my game?"

Y/N smiled.

"Yes, baby, you can."

Matt smirked, brushing a quick kiss against her lips before hopping back into his chair. As he slid his headphones on, he glanced over his shoulder.

"Just remember: it’s baby forever, yeah?"

"Got it." She replied with a laugh, already uploading the video to TikTok.

　　　　　༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism, copy, or "inspiration"!

[slvttyplum]

neither you nor nanami wanted to admit it out loud, but he was sleazy, but in private, of course, he didn't let it show; he had a front that everyone adored.

smiling in his coworkers faces just to turn around and talk shit about them to his friends or you; he would even throw someone under the bus for his gain; if it wasn't about you or him, he didn't care who got hurt in the process.

another thing he was really sleazy about was fucking you anytime and anywhere with no regard for anyone else; as long as he slipped inside you with ease, he didn't care.

reeling you in by pouting and whining over the phone for you to bring him lunch to the office, then throwing out the pout once you were there, bending you over the desk and immediately pulling out his dick.

you knew that you shouldn't be egging it on, enabling the way he acted towards others and even you, but it was hard when his hands rubbed over your ass and his dick slid and pushed against the sweetest spots inside of you.

whispering in your ears nasty and disgusting words that you wouldn't dare utter to the next person while he thrust into you repeatedly, smirking whenever he felt you grip around him when he made fun of how wet you were.

whether it be on the dining room table, on his desk in the office, in a vacant bathroom, or on the leather seats at the movie theater, he was going to do whatever he wanted with no regard for anyone else.

even on a long drive with his hand gripping your thigh, if he got the urge to stop on the side of the road and put the seats back to keep his dick warm and wet, that's what he was going to do.

he was so depraved and disgusting; he would purposely take you to the bedroom while having guests over just to see you whine and get frustrated from having to hold in your moans.

whispering in your ear while his hands softly rubbed over your sides, the door not even being locked, making it easier for anyone to walk in and see you spread out with him in between your legs, the sheets a damp mess.

kind of hoping someone would walk through the door, but knowing in reality if they did, he wouldn't waste time closing it.

he was shameless, but he could admit it, and that's why you loved him.

[suiana]

bruh i was talking to my friends about our types in guys and i said "i like boyfailures, absolute losers" and rambled about how they were just so cute and I'd be going 'yeah that's cool babe, tell me more about your pokemon and dinosaurs☺️' but then later on in the dsy i realised bro what if i AM the loser and someone thought of me like that 😵 therefore i give you yandere! golden boy x loser! reader

basically you're a loser who doesn't think they're a loser. you're the type of loser who talks a lot of shit online about how 𝖘𝖎𝖌𝖒𝖆 and hot you are when in reality you can't order a meal without hyping yourself up for 5 minutes beforehand.

you'd be pretending you're hot and mysterious but the second someone indicates the SMALLEST hint of anything you're interested in, you go on full on rambles and rants. then you snap back to reality and realize that hey! you don't even know this stranger! and just... walk away.

you're the type of person to go to the doctor with your mommy because you're scared to talk to doctors yourself and you'll look at her when the doctor asks any question, expecing her to answer for you. 'so what's your name? looks at mother' ahhh reaction.

yeah. basically, a loser. with hyperfixations on anime/game characters that you consume millions of content of. you probably sleep with plushies too and read fanfiction before sleeping. or you're doomscrolling reddit/tiktok/some form of social media and sleeping at 3 in the morning.

enter, him.

the golden boy. the perfect boy with perfect grades and a perfect body and- basically everything. he does like 3 sports, speaks 5 languages, everyone loves him, he graduated from an ivy league or an ivy league equivalent, and he's going to inherit his father's company! rich, tall, handsome. he has everything set out for him. cool beans.

anyway!

you don't know how, and you don't know why, but this man is now in love with you. you... probably met him while working your minimum wage job at some fast food restaurant.

"hi, i think you're really cute. would you like to go out on a date with me?"

"h-huh? erm..."

yeah, you don't know how to react so you just malfunctioned briefly before taking another customer's order. but he wouldn't let up. not at all, because he'd find your socials and have HOURS of conversation with you, on total accident, of course! no dirty work involved. totally. just pure coincidence, just like god or whatever is above intended!

"heh, must be my aura that allowed me to get that limited edition skin... what do you think, best friend?"

"yeah, this is the one guys. I'm marrying them."

"what did you say, best friend?"

"oh, nothing at all ☺️ go on with your rant, sweetie."

by some stroke of luck, definitely not him pulling some strings, you get a job offer that somehow is related to- wow, what do you know! his company! so you leave your boring 9-5 job and sign the contract. what a nice friend he is!

"here, just sign down on the line and you'll be able to start working right away."

"wow this contract is really long, best friend."

"haha... right, I'm definitely just a best friend..."

a contract that definitely does NOT bind you to him. yeah, no, definitely not. nuh uh. what? you're trying to read the fine print? there's no need for that! it's all just boring stuff...

yeah, definitely no conditions that will allow him to legally keep you trapped with him... and should you ever try to leave. well, it's just not possible.

but hey! at least now you get endless cash and you even have this cool best friend who really seems to spoil you!

oh, and now he's asking to be your boyfriend.

"sorry, you're not my type... i like the losers. boyfailures, even."

"sweetie..."

..

...

yeah, so now you're dating. it's all cool. yeah, you... totally don't mind this.

"best friend can we get some chicken nuggets? i really want some chicken nuggets and fries, best friend."

"it's boyfriend, sweetie. but of course! anything you want ☺️ we can get those chicken nuggets and more if you want."

okay well, at least it's not that bad... he's rich and handsome, he spoils you and loves you! like those guys in fanfiction, right? maybe a little too much though.

"sweetie, I'm throwing away all your merchandise of this man thing, okay? I'm replacing it with merchandise of me."

"don't tell me you're already throwing it away..."

"☺️"

"we're OVER."

[roboticnebula]

I am glad this resonated with so many of you, we are united against the sneaky typos.

But to all of you adding cons such as "it's not finished" or "it's cringe" or who say you outright can't enjoy your own fics because of the flaws, I really really want to urge you to practice meeting your fic where it is and enjoying it as it is.

You're doing this for fun and it's already hard enough to pour time and effort into something and then to share it on the internet. You wouldn't go on someone else's fic and point out the flaws (or at least you absolutely shouldn't do that) so why would you do this to yourself??

It doesn't matter if you write a niche little gem, a clumsy short or the next biggest hit in fandom, no one is ever going to be in your fic's corner more than you are. You are your first and your last reader and if you ever get sad about how many comments or kudos a work has gotten, I promise you that re-reading it and thinking to yourself "This was so much fun" can be the difference between wanting to keep writing or not.

Pros of re-reading your own fic

a good time;

Has exactly the tropes you like and the characterization you want to read;

Gratification: yes you did finish a thing and yes you did do good;

just a very fun time all around.

Cons of re-reading your own fic:

Is that another TYpO

[laufeysvalentine]

i want you.

remus lupin x fem!reader | masterlist

summary ༄ remus x best friend!reader -- or in which you're in love with your best friend, but he's not exactly in love with you back... angst

word count ༄ 3.2k

nora’s notes ༄ eeek my first writing post!! i'm so excited. this is kind of bad but IDC part two will be coming and i swear will be better written okay enjoy!! mwah 💘

“moony!” you sing-song as you twirl into his dorm, lips spread into a wide grin. “we’re leaving for hogsmeade, hurry up.” 

he’s on his bed, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose as he glances up from his book, suppressing a smile when he sees you. “hi, y/n.” 

he embodies the word comfort, you think. he’s wearing one of his trademark warm wool sweaters, an empty mug of tea by his knee, gray blanket draped across his lap, and that smile. it would be the death of you, you were sure of it. 

“hi,” you respond, clasping his book and setting it onto his bedside table. “c’mon, everyone’s waiting for us downstairs.” 

he sighs so deeply you think he might crack a lung, and loops his pointer finger through one of the belt loops of your jeans to pull you onto his bed. “do we have to?” 

as much as you’d like to stay here with him, you also want to buy more chocolate frogs, so you spring back up, tugging at his hand. “yes, please. i’m low on my candy stock.” 

he groans, letting you pull him off of his bed and out of the dorm. “your sweet tooth is killing me.” 

you shrug. “that’s what you signed up for when you said yes to being friends in first year. now you’re just living with it.” 

he just hums in agreement, letting you wrap your arm around his. remus lupin, your best friend. he’s the kindest man you’ve ever met, let alone known. it would be a lie to say you weren’t completely and utterly in love with him, and even more of a lie to say you hadn’t been since before you were a teenager, even if you didn’t understand it then. but, alas, as soon as you’d admitted it to yourself, you also resolved to never, ever tell him. you were sure he didn’t feel the same about you, and why would you carelessly toss away the best friendship and most understanding person ever just for some feelings? 

and so, you waited and hoped, prayed that it would go away. you would move on and keep your friendship. 

and, of course, you didn’t. 

“y/n!” james calls once he sees the two of you walking down the stairs to where the rest of the marauders are waiting. “finally.” 

“we sent you up like ten minutes ago,” peter complains, frowning. 

you shrug. “oops.” 

remus shifts his arm to settle around your waist, nudging you in front of him. “well, we’re here now, so get a move on.” 

you thread the hand he placed on your stomach with your own, thumb rubbing circles onto his. he smiles down on you, and that smile, oh, lord. you could see it a million times and never have enough. you’d jump over bridges to have him watch you like that all the time. you’d sell your soul to be his, really and truly. and the worst part is, you have no shame about it. merlin, you’re in love. 

—

jelly beans or chocolate frogs, that is the question. you glance at one, then the other, then the other again. your shoulders slump. it’s too hard of a decision. you’re about to cave and get both when you feel warm arms wrap around your waist, a chin settling onto your shoulder. without looking, you press a kiss to remus’ cheek. “hi.” 

“hi,” he replies, inhaling your scent, nose tucked between your ear and your hair. 

“chocolate frogs or jelly beans?” you ask anxiously, holding up the two in front of you. “or both?” 

“both,” he agrees with you, and you can feel the tension slowly leaving him as he stands behind you, entwined with you. 

you nod, happy with his judgment, about to speak when someone beats you to it. 

“remus?” a voice yells from behind, excitement coloring her tone. 

you know who this is without looking too, but you wish you didn’t. remus slowly stands back to his whole height, and the sudden absence of his warmth makes you shiver. you turn just as he does, even if you don’t want to see the girl beaming at him. 

you know her, of course you do. doesn’t everyone know celeste huxley, the most beautiful hufflepuff to grace hogwarts’ campus? angels sing when she walks past, men and women fall to her feet in her wake. she’s worshiped, adored. okay, you’re being dramatic, but still. 

you hate her. 

you hate her silky hair, her evergreen smile, her cesspool of kindness. 

and you hate yourself more for hating her. she’s never been mean to you a day in her life, she couldn’t be mean to anyone even if she tried. but still. she’s who you’ve tried to be your whole life. she is the blueprint, the model with cherry-red high heels you wobble and blister your feet in. she has all Os on her OWLs, victoria’s secret hair, people who love on her like a celebrity. and she’s fucking obsessed with your best friend, of course. she could have anyone in the world, and she picked him. why couldn’t she love sirius or james, like half the girls at the school? why did she have to want remus? 

and the worst part is, she deserves him. he deserves someone as perfect as he is, even if that’s celeste. 

as you swallow down your hatred, you realize she’s started to pull remus away from you, pulling on his sleeve towards the jelly slugs, and you almost lob your stupid chocolate frog at her head. tears sting your eyes and you try your best to blink them back as you watch remus watch you, only half-listening to her blabber. he knows you hate her, and the most sheepish, guilty look comes over his face. you ignore him, putting your candy back, too upset to think about eating it. luckily, you spot sirius in the corner and quickly try to make your way over him when you’re pulled back. 

remus has got ahold of your belt loops again, and you watch him whisper something to celeste before gently removing her hand from his sweater and pulling away. he chose you now, but for how long? the thought chills you, goosebumps prickling your skin, your heart. 

“dove,” he says quietly by your ear. “what happened to your candy?” 

“didn’t want it,” you mumble, walking towards sirius. 

“why not?” he’s dancing around the topic, and both of you know it. 

“not hungry.” 

“i’m sorry.” 

“s’not your fault,” you say. you’re not mad at him, you could never really be mad at him, but you’re upset nonetheless. you push away towards the black-haired boy perusing the shelves. “siri, you done?” 

you link arms with your other friend, leading him out of honeyduke’s, leaving remus trailing behind. 

—

“hi dove.” a voice, and its accompanying owner, peeks out from the doorway into your dorm. “may i come in?” 

“hi rem,” you say in response, beckoning him in, putting your book to the side to let him crawl onto you. “can’t you always?” 

his shoulders sag slightly, slumping into your bed as soon as he reaches it. his head is in your lap, and he closes his eyes once you begin to massage his scalp with your fingers, pressing a kiss to your exposed hipbone next to him. 

you don’t say anything, you just let the silence dance between the two of you. 

he’s so pretty. you brush some of his sandy strands out of his face to let yourself just admire him. the towering giant and all his gentleness. your fingers trace the outlines of his face, the scars that decorate it, all the way down to his right pinky, where he has the cutest tattoo. 

i love you is all you want to say. the words pulse at your throat, begging you to let them free. but you can’t. you can’t lose him. anyone else, sure, you would do it. but not him. not remus, your remus. 

when he wakes, groggy but grounded, you have a hot cup of tea ready by your bed, ready for his consumption. you hand it to him as soon as he’s fully awake, pulling himself off of you to accept the mug. “i don’t deserve you, dovie.” 

“don’t say stuff like that, rem. if anything, you deserve better.” you press a kiss to his cheek, smiling. 

“there’s nobody and nothing better than you,” he promises, hand landing on your lower thigh to massage it gently. you smile, letting the quiet linger between the two of you a little longer before speaking up. 

“you wanna talk about it?” you ask, watching him sip his tea. 

he gives you the most adoring smile, and you want to put it in a box and lock it up and keep it forever. “just tired.” 

“okay,” you say, searching his face to verify what he’s saying. “you can always talk to me, you know.” 

“thank you.” remus is always sincere, it’s one of the things you love about him, but he seems especially sincere now. “you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, y/n.” 

“and you are to me,” you whisper, eyes dipping to his plush pink lips. you want to kiss him so badly right now, but you know he just means it like a friend, as much as you wish it wouldn’t. 

swallowing, you wipe those ideas away, choosing to rest your head against his fleece sweater-covered shoulder. he drops a kiss onto the top of your head, and you sigh in contentment. this is why you refuse to tell him you love him. you couldn’t live without these moments. 

“there’s a party tonight at nine-ish,” he says softly. his thumb is rubbing circles on your knee. “sirius is dragging me along. will you come?” 

you contemplate it only briefly. “i’m tired, rem. you should go, though.” 

“i’ll stay back with you,” he decides with resolution. your heart melts, it’s sweet of him to want to stay with you, but you want him to have fun. plus, you can feel in how his body coiled with excitement when he talked about it–he wants to go. 

“no, go.” you glare playfully at him. “i won’t forgive you if you don’t.” 

“i’ll stay with you,” he repeats, staring right back at you. “it’s just a party. i’d stay with you forever, you know? you’re my favorite person.” 

“i’ll be mad at you if you don’t go, i swear to merlin,” you egg him on, heart melting. 

“no.” he’s too stubborn for his good. 

“i want to be alone,” you lie. you know he wants to go and you refuse to hold him back. “i might come later on, just not at nine. i’ll be there at ten, maybe.” 

“and i’ll wait for you,” he promises. 

“please, remus.” you put on your saddest tone, gaze up at him pleadingly. “i just need some alone time.” 

“you want to be alone?” he asks cautiously, searching for any hint you may be lying. 

“yes.” you cross your toes, tucked under your quads. 

he’s hesitating, and as if in perfect timing, a knock sounds at your door before a familiar head of black hair peeks through. 

“moony, let’s go. leave poor y/n alone.” sirius clicks his tongue. 

you push remus’ shoulder lightly, gesturing for him to go. he casts one long look at your face, as if memorizing every ridge. 

“she’s not going to change while we’re gone, get a move on,” sirius groans from the door. you nod at the statement, and remus concedes. 

“i’ll be here the whole time,” you promise. 

“call me if you get lonely.” he makes you swear before reluctantly getting up. you kiss his hand to send him off. 

you were lying when you said you would join him at nine. five minutes after he’s out the door, you’re fast asleep under the covers, the ghost of his touch comforting you. 

—

as soon as your eyes open, you let out a sound of disappointment. you can tell you haven’t slept through the night, as none of your roommates are in their beds, and they always sleep in. the clock reads that it’s only a bit before eight forty five, and you roll over in your bed. you know you won’t be able to fall back asleep, but you try anyway, until the door slams and your eyes fly open. 

it’s lily, face flushed with the cold and excitement. the second she sees you kissed by sleep, she covers her mouth. “sorry, y/n! were you sleeping?” 

you wave her off. “no, i was already awake. what’s up?” 

“james is going to be at the party tonight. will you come? please, please, please? i don’t want to go alone with him,” she begs. “please.” 

you weigh your options: if you stay here, you’ll just lay in bed, not sleeping. you might as well go with her, you’ll see remus there too. 

“okay,” you agree, and she practically drags you out of bed, she’s so happy. 

—

even though lily’s the one who dragged you here to keep her away from james, she’s off with him in a corner within ten minutes of you getting there, leaving you in a sea of other people, alone. of course, you know most of your housemates that are stuffed into this crowded common room, but you don’t know any particular one of them enough to properly go up to and chat. you sit awkwardly on a couch for a few minutes, next to couples making out, before finally just giving up and getting ready to leave. 

you saw sirius going into a bedroom with someone, so he’s out of the picture, peter’s smoking in the corner with some ravenclaws you have no interest in speaking with, james is alone with lily, and he’d kill you if you interrupted them, and you have absolutely no clue where remus is. 

whatever. you walk towards the door to the girls’ dormitories, stumbling over students on the way, when you just barely catch a glimpse of sandy hair outside on a balcony. you’d know it anywhere–that’s remus. you scramble towards him, eager to see a friendly face, hand cracking the door open, when just as quickly as it came, the excitement dies in your throat. 

because just behind remus is a girl you hate to see. celeste, hair floating behind her. if you blink hard enough, you see a breeze wafting through her hair as her fingers knot around remus’–your remus–neck. his hands are on the small curve of her waist, and he’s pushing her against the railing and, oh god–they’re kissing. 

you let out a thick gasp and your hand slaps over your mouth. you turn and flee. they probably heard you, but they can’t maneuver through the crowd like you can. within seconds, you’re sure you’ve lost any trace of them, darting through people as you sprint outside to the outside of the castle. sure it’s past curfew, but you can’t bring yourself to care. 

no one will see you now. 

he’s supposed to be yours. he was yours, he was yours in more than just a best friend. those nights when he fell asleep in your bed, having you wrap your arms around him for warmth, he was yours. when you always visited him post-full moon in the apothecary, and as much as he wishes to push you away, you never let him, he was yours then. when he lets you in, truly and fully, and lets himself cry against you, letting you take care of him for once. you’re the only person he’s ever let himself cry in front of.

and even though you’d deny it a million times, and you did, to sirius, to james, you’ve always hoped that he liked you back. deep down, in the parts of your soul you only ever showed to him. he didn’t have to love you, even. just like, that would be enough. anything would. 

but that was too much for him, clearly. 

you’re crying. tears, fat and hot, soaking the skin on your cheeks. head in your hands, letting your open palms pool the salty water. you feel nothing but yourself and the wind against the cold of the stone steps, whipping your hair around. 

“dove.” 

you squeeze your eyes shut, hoping you’re hallucinating, praying the voice you just heard wasn’t real. you couldn’t see him right now. that would be humiliating. 

“y/n?” 

you crack your eye open when you hear the same voice, trying to swallow your sobs back and failing as they manifest into ugly hiccups. you’re not hallucinating. merlin damn it. 

in front of you, peering up at your blotchy face, is remus lupin, your best friend. the man who’s not yours. 

he’s on the step below you,  but one hand snakes its way onto your knee, soothing your skin with his slender thumb, the other finding your hand to intertwine your fingers. fuck, his touch both makes you lean into him and want to throw up at the same time. his eyes are chock-full of compassion, and god, you hate it. “what’s wrong?” 

his words send you blubbering into tears again, rubbing at your eyes as something splits open in your chest. “n-nothing.” 

“something’s wrong, love. let me help you. let me in,” he pleads in the softest tone, and you have to fight to not give in, to wrap your arms around him and never let go. remember celeste, remember that terrible sight of his lips on hers. 

“remus, leave me alone.” you’re shaking, but somewhere inside you, you find your resolve. you stand, pulling away from him, and make to run back inside the castle, but his long legs catch up to you easily, arm shooting around your waist when your knees buckle and you collapse onto the floor in sobs. 

“y/n, you’re scaring me,” he says, panic accumulating in his voice. “please tell me what’s wrong and i’ll fix it, i promise. please, baby. it’s killing me hear you cry.” 

you’re so close to the doors, you can see them. you stand again. “you don’t get to say that.” 

“what?” his arm’s still around your shoulder and you shove it off. 

“stop it! you’re so mean, remus. you don’t get to call me dove and call me baby and say stupid things like how there’s nobody better than me and i’m your favorite person and then go off and kiss other girls,” you spit out on the verge of hyperventilating. you don’t even know what you’re saying anymore. it’s just coming out, spewing out of your mouth like the vomit that’s sure to follow. but even as each word shocks you, you know they ring true. “i hate you for it. i hate you for leading me on for years when i’ve loved you since we were kids! you’re terrible, remus. i hate you.” 

he’s absolutely stunned trying to process your words, and you use the momentary distraction to race back into the school, gunning for your dorm and locking it once you’re inside. the image of celeste and remus plays through your mind all night, so much that you can barely even think about how you confessed your love to him.

masterlist | next part

tags @lydiasfalling @dancingwithourhandsuntied

[syluriar]

drying hair - sylus x mc reader

sypnosis: literally just sylus drying your hair because he's whipped for you.

a/n: just had this cute thought of sylus drying your hair because for me personally i'm not a fan of it, and that's just one of the reasons why sylus would do it for you, other than that he loves the hell out of you. also not proud how i eneded this, writing has been a bitch latley because my brain won't work with me :( also no grammer check because i'm TIRED.

contains: mc!reader. sylus teasing you but you tease him back. call back to grassland romance. you thinking on your feelings for sylus. just bascially fluff.

word count: 1366

“Can I dry your hair, sweetie?”

It was a simple question, but it made you freeze and look at Sylus, who was towering above you from your seasted position at your desk, hair dryer in hand and ready to go. 

Curiosity filled you at his offer, and other times you would have followed it, bothering Sylus until he either revealed why or you would do your own investigation. 

But your arms were already aching from the towel drying, and you really did want to relax today after a grueling day fighting Wanders and filling reports. You had planned the rest of the day for ultimate relaxation and the only thing that would make it worse was drying your hair, a process you had to admit was not enjoyable for you.

So if you can get out of it, why not? 

“Ok,” You give him a nod. “Sure.”

And Sylus looked…absolutely delighted. His eyes shined and his smile was pure and you pondered why he’s reacting that way to do something for you, then again could you really be surprised? He’s made it known that he is at your beck and call, anything you want he’ll get you. You’re positive that if you asked him that you wanted a specific food item that can only be obtained within it’s country, Sylus would get it for you the next day. 

Those gestures still made you nervous as you weren’t used to such things, but at least now you graciously accept them instead of telling him off and refusing his gifts. Now it was cheeks burning and heart pounding, and your still quite puzzled on how your feelings for him have changed.

You forget about the hair dryer until it’s turned on in his hands, the buzzing pulls you our of your thoughts and focuses on the man now behind you. His free hand threads through your damp hair, fingernails just grazing your skull and you hold back a shiver of delight at the touch. 

“Hold still now, kitten.” 

The warm air hits you like a gentle breeze as Sylus starts the task, his fingers gentle as they part your hair to reach every part, the dryer not staying in one place too long to avoid a burning sensation on your skull. 

With your hands empty, your fingers fidget together, unsure of what to do. You have the twitch you squirm which you fight against, so you keep your eyes down, focusing on the flower pattern on your silk nightgown, another gift from Sylus.

You hear a chuckle lined with amusement that spreads embarrassment through your body. “Head up, sweetie.”

You can imagine the look on his face, that teasing smirk with creased corners at his eyes that holds mirth. You swallow and push back your fluster as you raise your head, your eyes promptly looking back into the mirror and ranking over the state of your hair, only to catch his own staring back at you.

They’re enchanting, like ruby gems that only shine for you. Flowers dead in a field that will only bloom in your presence, something poisonous that is only sweet on your tongue. The way he looks at you was as if you were the only thing that existed in the universe, the way they radiate and all the emotions they hold just for you is…exhilarating. 

A silent gasp leaves your lips when you notice how long you’ve been staring at Sylus through the mirror, and how he’s been staring back. His hand slides from your hair to your bare shoulder, his touch sending a shock of electricity through your body. 

“You’ve been staring for a while, kitten. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

You push the comment, trying not to let him get under your skin. “Just making sure you know what your doing. Messing with my hair isn’t something you should do.”

“Oh?” He’s teasing again, that damn smirk back on his lips. His eyes leave yours as he threads his fingers through your hair again. “I assure you, sweetie, that I would never mess with your hair, or don’t you remember what I said back in the Grasslands?”

“I like your hair.”

Of course you remember that, you remember everything that happened when the two of you were transported to another place, either back in time or another universe, your still not quite sure, but you were thankful for it nonetheless. It was a turning point for your relationship with Sylus, where you allowed the two of you to go closer and accepted that your feelings towards him were growing. 

“...I remember.” Your cheeks burning as you admit it - remember it. His fingers grazed through your hair like he’s doing now. “I also remember you saying that you would work on your braiding skills.”

He hums, which isn’t as off-key as his singing, thankfully. “But to do that I would need a lot of time practicing on your hair to honor my skills.” He looks back at you through the mirror, catching your still eyes. “Would you give me your permission, kitten?”

You imagine it, days of Sylus’ fingers combing through your hair as he braids the threads, tutorials playing as he watches intensely, pins and all sorts on your desk to hold his work in place. You imagine yourself, helping him through it all, teasing him when he’s stuck and cheering him up if something goes wrong.

It feels nice, domestic even. 

You can’t help but smile at it, your stomach filled with butterflies at the thought of doing such things with Sylus. 

“I would.”

He gives a huff of amusement, but the smile on his lips is pure and real. Perhaps he’s been thinking of such things with you, and it makes you feel giddy. 

He goes back to drying your hair and you close your eyes, finally relaxing. You allow yourself to sink into his touch as his fingers comb through your hair, enjoying how gentle and peaceful it makes you feel. 

“All done.” Sylus clicks off the dryer and you open your eyes to look at yourself in the mirror, ranking over the state of your now dried hair

You hum. “Not bad for your first time.”

“I’ll take that,” He chuckles. “Though like I said before, I would need to practice more on you to get it right.”

“You have permission for that as well.”

“Good.” 

His fingers are back in your hair and your amazed how at ease it makes you feel, giving him permission to touch your hair more might be better for yourself rather than him. 

Though you wonder…

You turn and look at him, redness on your cheeks as you retort. “As long as I can do the same to your hair.”

He looks surprised by your words and it makes you feel smug as you don’t get that reaction often. But he finally smiles and cups your cheeks, bringing your face so close to his that his nose brushes against yours. “You can do that and more to me, sweetie. I’ll never say no to you.”

Now your sure your a blushing mess, if not by your burning cheeks, then certainly by your pulsing heart that your positive Sylus hears. 

God, how does this man make you feel this way so easily? 

To hide it all you tease him back. “That’s a pretty big statement to say Sylus. Never say no to me? I wonder how far I can go with that.”

“I look forward to finding out, kitten.” He replies before leaning back, but not before booping your nose. “Now it’s time for bed. I remember a certain someone saying they were going to sleep early to improve their health.”

You don’t even get up from the chair as Sylus has you in his arms in seconds, a squeal of surprise leaving your lips as he carries you to the bed, laying you down gently and settling down beside you.. 

“Rest now.” His arms wrap around your waist, holding you to his chest as you cuddle under the silk sheets. “We have fun days ahead of us, so make sure not to be tired once they come.”

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Fern x Reader PT3(Final)

part 1

part 2

a/n: this is the final part of Fern’s main story, but not the end! You can still make Fern requests and I may rewrite this mini series in the future when I have time.

Fern had been depressed lately. He was a fairy, a dainty little thing, and you were now pregnant. He watched as you waddled around, struggling to do things.

If he were just bigger, he could ensure you never had to lift a finger.

All he could do was use magic to help when he could. Vines sprouted to grab things out of your reach or play with your pussy when you were feeling needy.

Fern wanted you so badly, to properly fuck into you and stretch out your fat cunt like he had before.

At night his wings fluttered softly as he rubbed your pregnant belly, kissing it. When his child was born, would he even be big enough to hold them? It made his heart ache to even think of such a thing. How could he protect his family when he was the size of a small doll?

That’s why he made a tough decision. Fern backed a bag, kissed your forehead and promised he would be back.

There were tales of a witch that lived in the center of the forest. She’d grant a single wish for anyone that came to her… but for a price.

He knocked once on the dirty window, noticing it was cracked and the wooden frame was chipped. Did anyone even live there?

The door creaked open, an old crone beckoning him in. “Hurry, I don’t have all day. Go on and tell me what you want.”

Fern sat on an upside down teacup, watching as the witch bustled about the dusty old cabin looking through books and half empty potion bottles.

“Uh… I wanted to know if you can make me… the size of a human.”

The witch paused, glancing at him. “I can, for a price. What are you willing to give me in exchange?”

~

It had been an entire day since you last saw Fern. He wasn’t the type to be out late, always returning before dark, so it was alarming that he had been gone for more than a few hours.

It was a bit hard walking now. You were six months along, but looked like you were closer to nine. Fern liked to joke that you seemed about ready to burst while laying his tiny head on your belly.

You could tell that his size was bothering him even more lately. As your pregnancy progressed, you needed more help, the kind someone as small as him couldn’t provide.

Despite what others may think, Fern was a proud fairy and hated that he wasn’t able to help his pregnant lover.

Fern wanted to provide and care for you, but that wasn’t really possible when he couldn’t even do most things for himself.

When the second day without any sightings of him filled around, you started to panic. It really wasn’t like him to be gone so long, especially when you were carrying his child.

‘Where could he be?’

Nearly a week passed without him. It was both depressing and terrifying, leaving you nearly bedridden at times. Everything seemed harder with Fern gone.

Even if he couldn’t do much of the heavy lifting, he used his magic to keep you from getting morning sickness, always comforted you when you were hormonal, and made sure all of your vegetables stayed fresh.

Without him, the world felt cold and uninviting. He made all the gray clouds disappear, but now that he was gone the sun had left with him.

You sat in your rocking chair as tears fell down your cheeks. After crying so much, your eyes were puffy and sore.

Even knitting for your unborn child was a chore these days, and you had only finished a single foot when you heard a knock at your door.

For a moment you thought Fern would be behind it… but that was stupid. He was the size of your hand, there’s no way he could knock that loud.

You didn’t rush to greet your guest. Instead you slowly put down the onesie you had been knitting and stood.

Trudging towards the door, you slowly unlocked it and pulled towards yourself…

“Hello, my love.”

You were breathless, eyes wide and mouth agape as you looked up to see a hair of brown curls and eyes as green as fresh oak leaves.

A hand reached out, cupping your cheek and swiping at your tears as you began to cry.

“Fern…”

You sobbed into his chest, warms wrapped tightly around him. He hugged you back, his eyes softening when your baby bump pressed into his abdomen.

“I’m so sorry, love. There was something I had to take care of, something so important I had to leave you for a while.”

As your lip wobbled, Fern began to explain what had happened.

After the witch asked him what he’d give in return, Fern was quick to answer.

“My immortality.”

You covered your mouth, eyes going wide as you swallowed harshly. “You… gave that up to be the same size as me?”

He nodded, smiling fondly as he tilted your chin up. “And I’d do it a thousand times over, love.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as he pressed his lips to yours a gentle, yet needy kiss. Although it felt amazing to kiss him after such a stressful week without him, you pulled back after a moment.

“But… why did you stay away for so long?”

Fern went pale, scratching the back of his head with a nervous laugh. “Let’s just say the process to become tall was… long and painful. That old witch enjoyed it too, I’m sure.”

After a moment of simply enjoying each other’s presence, you both walked inside.

After that, Fern waited on you hand and foot. He adored you, that was for sure. Every meal, activity, and even bathroom visit was managed by him.

Fern smiled down at you as he helped you into a bath, his eyes lingering in your heavy and swollen breasts.

When you hissed and winced in pain as your hands brushed against your sensitive nipples, Fern cooed out sympathetically.

“Here, just relax.”

His wings fluttered as his hands groped your fat tits, massaging and squishing them lightly. You let out such a delicious noise that he couldn’t help but lean forward and kiss your neck.

Fern’s cock twitched to life when milk spurted from your perky buds. He always got so hard when he was reminded you were heavily pregnant with his young.

“That’s it, feels good doesn’t it?”

His hand slipped between your legs, a vine replacing the now missing one at your tit while his other continued massaging you.

“Mmph… Fern…”

You had been so needy lately, begging for him to properly fuck you since he had returned. But he was hesitant. Fern didn’t want to potentially harm you or his unborn child…

But with some reassurance from you, the fairy joined you in the tub. He settled you onto his lap, continuing his ministrations.

His cock nudged at your warm cunt, desperate to be enveloped by your velvety walls.

And you wanted him just as much.

Fern groaned against your neck, keeping a hand on your baby bump for leverage as he bounced you up and down on his cock. It felt so good to stretch you out again and have you clench around him.

The vines rubbed at your clit, making you tighten up even more. You came again and again, your body way more sensitive due to your pregnancy.

He loved getting to fill you up with his seed. Watching the hot, white cum leak out of your cunt as he rinsed you off made him want to do it all over again.

But Fern wanted to go easy on you until after your pregnancy.

~

Months passed by, and Fern held onto your hand as you gave birth. Labor hadn’t been easy, but he was by your side the entire time.

“It’s a girl…”

You held onto your baby, eyes half lidded from exhaustion. Fern was an absolute mess, his eyes puffy and red as he sniffled.

“She’s beautiful…”

Fern handled almost everything as you recovered, and as your baby girl grew, her wings started to slowly develop.

“She has wings… is she..?”

“Immortal? Maybe, but I’m not sure… I impregnated you before the witch took my immortality, but she is half human…”

You kissed her little head, letting her nurse as your now husband knelt in front of you.

“I don’t want that for her, Fern. She would outlive all of us. Wouldn’t that be lonely?”

Fern paused to think, slowly reaching out to place a hand over your belly.

“… it wouldn’t be if we… gave her a sibling.”

And so the two of you had several children through the years, slowly repopulating the fairy race. You’d grow old together, and even if your children lived forever, at least they would have each other.

————————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[space929]

This is an old post and I've talked about their relationship before and I'm doing it again because it needs to be done.

Which makes it sound like I disagree with the above, which I do not. This is 100% a based post.

Obvious TWs I think.

I gave him quite a bit of leeway in that I focused on the latter half of this scene and emphasized the difference in listening between the beginning of the movie and that portion, but this is really important to talk about.

This isn't an "error" that good parents make. There are a couple of reasons I think he might have done that - character wise - but none of them are good. Most of them have to do with emotional distancing and emotional immaturity. But I digress.

Let's talk about the beginning of this scene.

As I mentioned in my previous post, George is a lot like my mom. In that scene, he is very likely projecting. Gwen being angry and pointing out his "mistake" (quotes because I feel like it stops being a mistake when it involves a gun and time to think. Like, he's a cop. He has a permit. He has to know what to not do - I hate guns and I know what to not do! You do not point it at anything you do not intend to shoot. It stops being a mistake when you intend to shoot a child) makes him feel guilty, so he takes it out on her.

She needs to be quiet so he doesn't have to think about the hard things.

This is an idea that is incredibly prominent and generally comes hand-in-hand with the thought that you owe your parents respect regardless of what they do and how much they give you.

He gives her nothing up until this point. He does not listen to her, he talks about something he is aware she does not like or agree with and then shuts her down when she says that, he shuts her down every time she tries to share her feelings.

And then he's upset when she finally tries to shut down for the final time because he actually threatened her life. But that has to be her fault, because if it isn't, he would have to look in on himself and recognize the very real problems in their relationship and that they stem from him. The reason she never told him comes from him. The reason she left is because of him. The reason she's mad is him.

But then he'd have to deal with the guilt and self-reflection that comes with that, and that's uncomfortable. That's painful. It's far more comfortable if she keeps her emotions over there and he gets to remain the unquestionable authority that can do no wrong.

Anyway. This is just why he's doing it. It isn't an excuse or a justification. This is an awful way to think.

So he also tried to leave the house when she was mad at him. I went through and read the transcript for this part and it calls him a child for this which is hilarious. She follows after him to - and I pull this from the transcript - keep him from walking out the door.

She has learned to be more mature than her father. To go to him because he will never come to her.

There's just one more thing I want to mention.

Gwen's speech, which I love, focuses on her. It focuses on Ghost-Spider (I know that's not her name in ATSV but it's so much better and it should be) and the good she's trying to do.

It never mentions the way he hurt her. And I believe that that's because she knows he would shut down if it did. If she talked about him and what he did, he wouldn't respond the same.

When I was twelve, my mom practically kicked me out of the house to live with my dad. She got mad at me for this fact. To this day, I cannot talk to her about how I feel about this. I can complain to her about living with him. I can complain about him. I cannot tell her that she hurt me. She'll accept the first, she'll guilt trip me for the second.

And I think Gwen knows something similar would happen. She knows what not to mention.

I don't like how Jefferson parents. I think he's too authoritarian in a lot of cases. But they're right. He would never point a gun to Miles.

I ended my last one with an optimistic take on the fact that he was trying, and I want to end this one the same way, but the reality is that I gave a lot of leeway. He's done a lot of introspection, sure, but he hasn't done enough. He has to learn to take criticism that isn't edged around but never directly hitting the point.

George Stacy is not a good parent. I hope that he tries. I hope he learns. But he is not a good parent, and it's important to acknowledge that.

I still think about how Gwen's dad pointed a gun at her, and then got mad when Gwen didn't want to talk/look at him.

Like, sir, you pointed a GUN to your teenage DAUGHTER. You raised your gun back up after she unmasked.

Like, you found out Spider-ghost was your daughter and you still thought she killed HER best friend?? And on purpose??

You had a duty as a police man to what?? Shoot your unarmed teenage daughter if she tried to leave?? Instead of trying to let her explain at least??

Even Aaron let Spiderman go when he found out he was his nephew, and he was the villain.

[euphoria-looney]

Credits to the idea:

Batfam X Neglected Reader ( Squid Games)

The Winner Takes It All by ABBA

When do humans get so desperate they give up their own lives for that small chance of money?

Money is a category in your history class dedicated to why money is the basis of your life. Economy.

I first witnessed someone leave everything had for money, my mother. When I was 5, I didn't know why my mother was leaving the manor with a huge suitcase, filled with cash.

My mother engaged to Bruce Wayne who only allowed her in as they procreated me. In her words, both sides should take responsibility, it takes two to tango, and why should she be the only one to deal with the consequences.

Which now is very hypocritical as she ran away taking everything but me.

I didn't want sympathy, but I didn't want to be treated like dirt for a mistake I didn't make.

For the next 13 years of my life, I tried to stay on the down low, no matter how many dirty looks, and the insults, not even when Damian would hurt me.

I just hoped they wouldn't mind if I stayed with them a little longer until I could find a stable way to leave.

That hope burst when Alfred came to my room and told me “Master Bruce has decided to kick you out and disown you, I'm so sorry, [name].”

I tried to somehow make it, promising myself, it was going to be okay.

I got into college, and the debt collected from that was massive, so I had to go get loans at the bank, and then get into a part-time job, but every day seemed like we were always getting robbed. My manager had no choice but to let me go.

“I'm sorry, sugar, but we aren't pulling in enough customers and I can't afford to keep too many employees, there's no easy way to say this but, you have to quit. I don't want to fire you, it'd look bad for any job you'd apply for next.”

I held onto her hand like a lifeline I begged and pleaded with no avail.

I tucked my tail in and went to the Wayne manor.

"Um, It's [name], could I... um..." I swallowed my words, afraid to say them, I mean, this was humiliating, 13 years since I'd seen them and the first thing I asked for was cash? "... borrow some money."

No surprise I was rejected, but that didn't hurt me it was the comments, how I was so much like my mother.

I waddled to the train station, if I was lucky, the train wouldn't be hijack or filled with gas tonight.

"Hey, you want to earn some money?" A guy next to me.

"No, thank you."

"10,000 dollars. Just a child's game"

I lifted my head to stare at him. I couldn't see his face, hidden behind a mask.

"It's a Korean game, visited it a few days ago, so would you mind playing it with me?" He gave an authoritative vibe, it made me want to back away, his aura was sinister.

I had already hit rock bottom, what could be lower? I hesitantly nodded my head.

I don't know how many times I lost, but I finally did it!

Handing me the cash and then handing me this weird card.

"If you ever need more, contact us." with that he walked away.

Third POV

“B, are you sure this is the right spot?”

‘Positive. Are you sure you want to join on this mission, Dick.”

Despite what anyone might think Batman, otherwise known as Bruce Wayne cares and loves his kids.

Changing into suits and golden animal masks, they went to the VIP room, make some bets on random numbers.

Oracle was doing the background work, hacking into everything, it wasn't like the movies and the stress was on.

The court of Owls was not just one villain working but a cult that was not only wealthy but influential, with their own members, called Talons who were armed and ready.

On the screen 456 players appeared.

“Today, we have prepared the game red light, green light. A child game.” The frontman introduced the V.I.P’s at the start of the first round.

[name]’s POV:

Waking up, the clothes I was originally wearing changed into the tracksuit outfit with a number on it.

A person caught my eye, it’s Astro! From the law department, I couldn’t help but approach him.

“What are you doing here?” Word got around that he was an academic genius, and many had hope for his bright future.

I could only remember how fond his mother was when talking about him, I thought I saw her the other day working.

“Oh, [name]. It’s been a while hasn’t it? What are you doing here?” He dodged the question.

“I… couldn’t afford college and took out a loan, eventually I got a lot of debt.” Our conversation got cut short as we headed to this random room.

Going to this machine it said ‘smile’

I gave a gummy like smile before making my way to the field

Playing red light, green light.

After explaining the rules everyone started running, nothing was wrong until a person got spotted moving during the red light, poor guy, going home penniless after making it here-

Spat

Oh.

There’s blood on my shoes.

It was like a stampede of people running to the door, stacking on top of each other. I was frozen out of fear.

Wha-

What do I do?

I’m afraid.

Someone tell me, what do I do?!

Before I knew it, I made it to the end.

Third POV:

Thankfully no one found the bat family suspicious or they would’ve noticed how they tensed up seeing as their daughter/sibling had the first contestant’s blood splattered not only on her shoes but also on her clothes.

A break had ensued as the game was over and everyone made their way to their individual rooms.

“What are they doing there?!”

“Should we stop it now?!”

“How?!”

“Quiet down!” Bruce had stopped the panic, but in reality he, himself didn’t know what to do either.

[name]’s POV:

Going back to the room, I felt like a doll and everyone sat on the floor.

The sickening feeling of seeing the gold lighting illuminating the clear pig, with money dropping down into it.

I could feel my stomach drop just thinking about it.

I didn't know what was happening until Astro got up and rebutted the guards.

“Clause three, The games may be terminated upon a majority vote, right?”

Thankfully, ending this sick and twisted game.

That didn’t last long though as a day had passed and I was back in this building. I think everyone who left was.

I talked to new people, especially this one old man who reminded me of Alfred.

“I could say the same to you. You’re young, and your debt is lower than most people here, so why continue risking your life for this money?” I shook my head, my face holding a sad smile.

“No matter how hard I try I just keep gaining then losing debt. But it’s different for you sir. Doesn’t the government give insurance and medicare for the elderly?” I held his hands in mine.

“The government isn’t as nice as you think, corrupt up in their high-paying jobs, but still greedy for more.”

As the games ensued I could feel myself deteriorate.

Third POV

Gripping onto the couch arms, and bouncing off one's feet could symbolize when someone is... anxious.

Or it could be showing anticipation.

So let's pretend that's what Bruce Wayne is feeling right now.

And if we asked his opinion on number ###, [name] [lastname]...

Most people would think, "Yes, he must be anticipating her death, how the blood would splatter, whether it be from losing a game or betrayal from another contestant." That's what most people would think of that entire family.

How could you not?

They shamed her, bullied her, and scorned her away from their home.

Wouldn't even provide financial aid much less.

Isn't that why she's here in the first place?

It was like they wanted her to grovel and die, die a death that would have no meaning, not even to this unforgiving world.

However, you'd be shocked that's not correct.

Anxiety is a scary thing it makes you make rash decisions. Good or bad.

It was nothing new to these vigilantes.

But oh. seeing her tired eyes, sweat dripping down everywhere, from her head to her legs. Her trembling form.

If you didn't know the context you'd already think she was a corpse.

No! That's wouldn't couldn't be true.

They couldn't allow it to be, she was going to be safe.

She had to be.

She was forgotten, but now, everyone's eyes were on her.

Anxiety is a scary thing, and with the current event, situation, there was nothing they could do but hope for the best, bounce their legs, and grip the couch.

-

It’s time for the next game.

“For this game we’ll be playing the marble game.”

—

There will be 2 endings choose which one. (I'll be making both.)

-> Thank you… for playing with me.

-> Astro!

Also, I love the idea and from fic from both @jellyfishmoon97 and @not-weirdoshrek

@holysoulsweets @sh4rk-k1d @sillysealsies @loomspuddle @cantfindmelol @alwaysholymilkshake @leitor-sonolento (I think these are all the ones that wanted to get tagged idk though 😍)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

maidenless board game club headcanons

Time to bully Azul and Idia :)) I often picture their club meetings being just them shit talking the other person and calling them rizzless…

Any and all mentions of the reader are meant to be gender neutral; gendered terms may still appear in these headcanons, but never in reference to the reader.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Azul likes to think he’s suave and could bag “anyone he set his mind to.” Eh, why hasn’t he tried to woo anyone then? For him, he states it’s a matter of pride!! He would never be emotionally vulnerable to just anyone, you know. A-And besides, he’s focusing on his business and personal growth right now, he doesn’t have the time to toy with hearts! (Or so Azul insists.)

The reality is, he has never kissed anyone outside of his family. Just soft pecks on the cheeks in greeting, mainly to his mother and grandma. Azul would never admit this out loud though, he thinks it detracts from his “cool” persona.

The thing about Azul is that he overthinks EVERYTHING. He’ll sit there and map out every possible thing that could happen on a date and how he will prepare to handle them. This includes what to say and when he should smile when speaking… He’s charming, yes, and starts off with a strong first impression—but he also tends to come off as too rehearsed or humble bragging about his accomplishments.

Azul’s desperate for a S/O not because he wants one per se, but because he wants validation that he is, in fact, attractive and desirable. After all, he made such an effort to change himself and to come off as confident, intelligent, and capable. He would like to bask in the reassurance that his efforts were worth it, because now he can “have” whoever he wants.

Aaand therein lies another problem. Azul is still stuck in the mindset that relationships are transactional. You do a favor for him? Well, he has to match it. He gives you a gift? Then he expects one back. Yet Azul keeps himself to an emotional distance, too afraid to be completely honest about his flaws.

Idia thinks the issue is Azul’s personality. When Azul demands to know what exactly his clubmate means by that. Idia just sneers and goes off on a tirade. According to him, Azul-shi may look like he’s got everything put together, but since he’s actually a greedy scumbag, no amount of expensive cologne or nice clothes can cover up a rotten core.

Sometimes he and Idia just head back to the Mostro Lounge and pour one out (non-alcoholic drinks like fruit juice) to drown their sorrows. Jade and Floyd show great interest in these sessions, but Azul is cautious about letting any truly embarrassing experiences slip out.

The twins will occasionally dare him to snag a date with whichever random person walks through the doors to the Mostro Lounge next. Azul initially took these as personal challenges and did his utmost to win these dares, but after a string of embarrassing flops he now knows better than to be baited.

Idia is scared of 3D people and prefers to stick to his anime waifus and aidorus. REAL people could never compare! They’re too flawed and unpredictable—and, worst of all, they don’t come with dialogue options and affection meters to help Idia gauge what to do/say and when the Love Flags will trigger! What’s an introverted otaku to do?

He’s the type to openly disparage happy couples and love while secretly craving the warm touch of a flesh and blood person in the depths of his soul. His ideal is a kawaii gamer who’s into all the same things he is! … Unfortunately, he’s way too shy and unconfident to ever take a stab at it!! This is his way of coping.

He goes into the chats of his favorite streamers and tosses tons of money to get his comment read and to be noticed. Idia is the type to get super parasocial with the objects of his affection (he owns all the merch, goes to the events (virtually), has had a membership since day 1, etc.), even if he scoffs at the idea when directly confronted about it.

Literally bro spends his free time moderating Discord servers and Subreddits to complain about dating. Oh, but then the INSTANT he learns a user is single he starts treating them completely differently, calling them cute and his kitten or whatever. It’s amazing how much boldness he gains from behind the safety and comfort of a screen.

He doesn’t realize the value Ortho has as a wingman. Some people are super into the idea of doting on a younger sibling or dating a guy that loves his family—but Idia never brings these up as aspects of himself. Idia often vents about dating to his little bro and then tells Ortho he’s so lucky he doesn’t have to put up with stupid complex human emotions like love. Ortho just stares at him and begs his big bro to not get catfished.

He unfortunately drives people off with his sometimes pompous attitude. He’ll challenge others’ knowledge about his favorite media and get into extended arguments with them about the subjects he’s passionate about. Only “true” fan are allowed here! If you don’t get it, Idia will mansplain to you for hours at a time over VC.

Idia’s frequently the first to instigate (verbal) fights with Azul over their appeal in the dating scene. Offended, Azul usually fires back with some remark about how Idia hasn’t even witnessed him making eye contact with a REAL living, breathing woman. “Fictional women and a ghost bride do NOT count!”

You're nice to Idia ONCE (like, you let him borrow a pencil because he forgot his for an exam) and BOOM instantly this guy is lurking in the corners, giggling creepily ("Hihihihihi...") and shyly watching you from a distance. He's way too anxious to actually try and shoot his shot, but now he's fully convinced you're into him. (Idia lives out his fantasies with you in life sim games to cope with not having you irl 💀)

[ready-to-read7]

The Ice Prince

(I am not the best writer But I’m doing my best)

the nuke that the GIW had created, was devastating and catastrophic, destroying Danny’s entire home universe with only a few survivors and unfortunately none of them were human only the halfas had survived.

And the blast had even reached the infinite realm, but the ghost King Phantom/Danny had used his own power to stop  it from causing any devastation to the realms but in return he was weaken and badly injured, every ghost was terrified of what would happen to the king but clockwork had a solution, he used his powers to de-age Danny down to maybe a month old so that his body would have enough power to keep him alive in a  smaller form. Every ghost was terrified for the safety and well-being of  their king especially considering he was not fully ghost so they knew he couldn’t stay in the ghost zone for long especially now, so while clockwork and the  yetis was looking for a dimension for Danny to stay in Vlad, Dan and Dani as his only remaining family were making preparations for his new living circumstances, preparing caretakers creating a layout for his new home and even picking out and having toys and clothing created.

 Clockwork in the end with the help of the yetis end up successfully finding a dimension that will both meet Danny’s ghost needs and human needs perfectly and with the designs provided by Danny’s family, they started creating a beautiful ice castle for him, and once it was finished it was transported to the dimension in the Arctic.

_________________________________________________

Meanwhile at the watchtower the alarm started going off alerting the justice league on a unknown entity/entities in the Arctic near the fortress of solitude, alarmed supermen wants to immediately go to the Arctic but Batman refuses him to go alone offering to go with him.

Once they reached the fortress of solitude, they do not notice anything out of the ordinary, but as they search, they find a small Castle not too far away in the crevice of a cave, Superman at first tried to use his x-ray vision to see you what or who was inside but something was preventing him from doing that so both determined to figure out if the beings inside are a threat they enter the castle.

As they explore Batman and Superman come across many different rooms, first they find a kitchen, then they find the storage room, a living room, and a few more before they hear footsteps, they decided to hide in the closet nearby and what they see is a bunch of living ice statues walking past them with trays blankets and many other things, they decide to go in the direction opposite to that of the living ice statues.

They eventually come across a large room with two green-skinned humanoid creatures with dragon-like features inside, the two creatures were looking down at something that neither Superman and Batman could see what it was, after a few minutes, one of the Dragon like creatures turned off the lights and unfolded there large wings, gave a few flaps and flew out alongside their companion out of a large window.

Once Batman and Superman were sure the Dragon like creatures were gone, they entered the room, and, Batman would be looking around while Superman would look for the light switch, and once he did what they found was confusing, the largest room in this building was a nursery with a  crib in the middle with a space theme mobile above it, and they both would be confused why the largest room in this building was a nursery, they would then approached the crib to find a baby more shockingly a human baby by its appearance,   Black hair with the faintest of freckles across his face accompanied by his light skin that could mistake him as dead, wrapped in the finest silk blanket they have ever seen  while wearing some sort of Greek clothing.

Batman terrified that the child might be dead turns to Superman to silently ask whether the child has a heartbeat or not. Superman would take a moment to listen and would then inform Batman that the child does have a heartbeat and unnaturally slow one but a heartbeat, nonetheless.

While Batman’s trying to figure out what the situation is, Superman is fearing that the child was kidnapped, he would pick up the baby wanting to take him back to the watchtower to have a proper checkup done on the child, when Superman told Batman that he wants to take  the baby back to the watchtower for a proper checkup Batman would counter saying that the  Dragon like creatures are probably his parents, before Superman can protest they hear the Dragon like creatures returning, and in panic they both flee and Superman not realizing that he still has the baby in his arms carries the baby away from the castle.

Somehow neither Batman or Superman realized that Superman had the baby until they reached the JL base, and once they do realize Batman start scolding Superman for stealing a child especially from a species that they aren’t fully aware of or know anything about. Superman counters that the child had no features from either of the possible parents and could be an infant that the two Dragon-like people stole from Earth so that they could playhouse.

While the entire Justice league is split on siding with either Superman or Batman who are both giving valid reasons for why their point of view is correct, the Green Lanterns are trying to find the origin of the Dragon-like people or more specifically where they are from.

As they argued the volume continued to increase eventually resulting in the child waking up still cradled in Superman’s arms. The most beautiful pair of blue eyes like ice shards reflecting the beauty of the sky looked up at them and as the infant yawned it gave a cute grumpy little face indicating that he was upset that they interrupted his nap time.

Once everyone noticed the baby was awake, they started cooing and absolutely adoring the baby and the flash that was literally vibrating from excitement would run up to the baby so he can hold the infant, but the moment Danny spotted the slightest amount of electricity coming from the flash he immediately started crying and wailing.

The cry was loud, not loud enough to destroy the JL base but loud enough that anyone with enhance hearing had to cover their ears to try and avoid going def, Batman then immediately grabs the child from Superman and thanks to his years of experience with helping calm down small children and infants he calms the baby down, which is a relief to everyone.

After Batman managed to calm down the baby until he was only slightly whimpering, a very pale and panic Constantine,Dr. fate and  zattana burst into the room, as they entered they started searching and scouring each nook and cranny of the room until their eyes landed on the whimpering child still in batman’s arms, Constantine immediately goes even paler something no one knew could happen and in his frazzled state he would scream demanding to know why there was a child of the infinite realms in batman’s arms. but nobody knows what the infinite realms are so while Constantine was drowning in his own panic, Dr. fate and zattana would explain to everyone what the infinite realms are, and Batman would explain the situation back telling them how Superman had taken the baby from an ice castle near the fortress of solitude.

Superman realizing his mistake offers to take the child back immediately but before he could the alarms at the base started to go off again, cyborg who was the closest immediately started typing across the computer in order to see if there was any world ending threat but what they see made all the magic users take a double take on what they were seeing.

A man with a blue skin tone whose hair is unbound by gravity and behaves like fire and blood red eyes alongside two more people, one of them who looks like a vampire who also has a bluish skin tone and the other one looks like a female version of the first one but younger and also with green eyes and a more humanoid skin tone.

Zattana would then stutter out loud and ask herself why on earth King Phantom is destroying government facilities alongside the Count Masters as well as Princess Spector, of the Infinite Realms. she would also ask herself why they were specifically targeting government facilities.

But then a giggle along with some clapping of tiny hands would catch their attention as they turn around to see the baby still in Batman’s hands happily giggling and clapping their hands as they started grabbing out towards the screen specifically towards the three people on the screen.

Constantine would look at the screen and then at the child  and he would see similarities between King Phantom and the child, the dots will then connect in his head and he would start having a strata panic attack and before anyone could realize what was going on Constantine would scream at Superman telling him that he just kidnapped the son of the king of the infinite realms.

________________________________________________

Dan, Vlad and Dani were all frantically searching for Danny since he randomly disappeared from the ice castle and due to past experiences, all three of them thought it was some form of government who took him so they immediately start destroying every government facility they could find so that they could find Danny.

They had gotten through 15 government facilities with no luck of finding Danny, until they were approached by three weirdly dressed individuals who addressed dan as King Phantom Dan was obviously confused at first and so was Vlad and Dani but Dan eventually realize that they probably think that he is Danny because of their similarities and the fact that no one knows that Danny is now in infant, Dan thinking that it would be funny decided to play along and he used his core to communicate with Vlad and Dani.

Funny, play along, funny, help find Danny,

Dan would then float over to the three weirdly dressed individuals and ask them what they want because he’s kind of busy,

The very strong looking woman would bow down to him and ask him if he is looking for his child.

Dan then applies himself properly telling them that he is indeed looking for his child and if they try and stop him, he won’t hold back.

The strong looking woman then introduces herself as Diana/wonder woman and reassures Dan that they are not here to stand in his way, she instead tells him that she actually knows where his child is.

Dan raises an eyebrow, and addresses wonder woman telling her to describe the child, so he makes sure that they are talking about the right kid.

Wonder woman would then talk describing Danny, black hair, blue eyes, pale skin with freckles and she would even mention the unbelievable loud cry that left many members of the JL disorientated.

Dan realizing that they actually have Danny and would ask her who they are and why they have Danny, wonder woman seeing the rage billed in his eyes would invite him back to the watchtower so he could retrieve his child and that they can explain the situation to him, dan agrees.

As they were going up to the watchtower dan, Vlad and Dani would speak in ghost dialect to each other.

Dan: so, these people think I am phantom, and I think we should keep up the act because it’s safer for Danny if they believe I am him and that he is my son.

Dani: that makes sense but what am I then?

Dan: while we don’t have to change the fact that you are his sister so just continue just pretend to be his older sister.

Dani: ok :D

Vlad: what about me?

Dan: I don’t know old man pretend to be his grandfather.

Vlad: ok :/

once they reached the main room of the watchtower, Dani immediately zooms into the room right in front of batman politely asking him if she can have her little brother, batman who had gotten Danny to fall asleep again would then give the baby to her.

 She would then float over to Dan and gives Danny to him, Dan and Vlad then look over Danny to make sure he has no injuries and then Dan would address the group asking them what happened and why his son was here, Batman would then explained that they got an alert about something near the fortress of solitude and that alert would be the castle where they found the baby and Superman thought it was a human child that was stolen so he ended up accidentally kidnapping the baby.

Dan would have given Danny to Vlad as he uses  his fingers to rub his nose in annoyance before giving a sigh of relief thanking the ancients that it wasn’t some government facility that kidnapped him wanting to experiment on him, the justice league especially the magic users would get very concerned by the comment and dani realizing that they might be confused, would explain that in another world a government facility had labelled all beings from the infinite realms as not sentient  and started kidnapping and experimenting on them, but that universe no longer existed mainly due to the idiotic actions of the government facility blowing up their own universe.

Dan would then turn to Vlad and tell him that they’re going to need to move the castle and maybe add a bit more security, Superman would then speak up saying that they could keep the castle where it is and they will make sure no one will go near it without authorization.

Dan would look at Superman and nod his head, but would still remarking to Vlad that they still need to increase the security since no one should be able to get near his little sunshine (he holds back the need to throw up after saying that), batman  would look at Dan wanting to ask questions but even he knew now was not the best time also he could feel someone staring daggers into the back of his neck something that didn’t bother him nor cared about but he didn’t want to give Constantine a heart attack not yet at least.

Dan would then open a portal directly to the ice castle and would give his farewells to the Justice league as he went through Vlad with Danny in his arms following close behind and dani  just after them and once the portal closed all the magic users in the room gave a sigh of relief along with a few of the other heroes who based on Constantine’s reaction understood the severity of the situation

And in the meantime, Dan, Vlad and Dani would be settling Danny back in his room and would be arranging more security and more caretakers since they do not want another situation like this.

@unadulteratedsoulsweets

(If there are any grammatical errors or spelling mistakes or anything like that just ignore them I'm not going back to fix them)

Original prompt here