#he's gonna make her howl

[stark-raving-hazelnut]

"Hong Hee-joo... can make sounds."

Boy, this 3 year sexual tension better break soon, and like I mean now.

[the-daily-male]

Today's daily male is L'manburg from The Dream SMP!

[nadiajustbe]

In some 80's AU where there is no magic and no spells, instead of curing rheumatism and giving fields just because the woman he likes wanted to, Howell would remember the smallest details, like Sophie's favorite color on exceptionally dark rainy days, which she mentioned once in the middle of an argument, throwing them out completely randomly as if they were the most common information in the world

Michael: How do you know that?

Howl, shrugging his shoulders: She mentioned it.

[transgaysex]

straight up told my dad to stop asking me to play messenger between him and my mom. he laughed at first but it did make him get up and actually go and see her so whos winning huh.

[dearlenore]

BED CHEM • S.REID

SUMMARY: the team is watching a video detailing Penelope’s concert experience when they notice you talking and singing about a certain boy genius on stage

PAIRING: singer!fem!reader x spencer

tags: fluff, reader is hyper feminine, reader wears revealing clothing reader wears makeup, sabrina carpenter inspired, mentions of pregnancy (Juno) dirty jokes, flustered spence for you

a/n: editor is occupied for the foreseeable future</3

w/c: 1.3k

PT2

The BAU’s conference room buzzed with quiet conversation as Penelope practically skipped to the front, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Okay, you guys are NOT ready for this,” she squealed, dramatically spinning around to face the team. “So, picture this: I’m at the concert, having the time of my life, and then—oh, it gets better—SHE PULLS OUT MY FAVORITE OUTFIT! She hasn’t worn it in forever, but THEN—”

“Penelope,” Hotch interrupted, rubbing his temples. “A point would be helpful.”

“I am getting to the point, oh fearless leader,” she huffed before connecting her laptop to the large screen at the front of the room.

The screen flickered to life just as Spencer walked in, hair still slightly damp from a rushed morning routine, a mug of coffee in one hand and a case file in the other. He yawned, blinking sleepily.

“Good morning,” he mumbled, dropping into his chair.

“Oh, great, perfect timing, Doctor Reid, because you, my dear genius, are going to want to see this,” Penelope chirped, clicking a button.

The video loaded, showing a stage bathed in bright lights and a familiar figure at the center. The moment Spencer realized who he was looking at, his stomach tightened.

You.

The headline above the video made it even worse.

‘America’s Sweetheart Has a Boyfriend?!’

Spencer stiffened, shoulders squaring as he desperately tried to keep his expression neutral. It didn’t work.

“Ooooooh, this is gonna be good,” Emily murmured, leaning forward with a grin.

The video played. The intermission segment of your concert, where you spun a game wheel, laughing into the mic as you introduced the next topic. The wheel landed on Bed Chem. The audience erupted into cheers, but instead of launching into the song, you tilted your head, suppressing a mischievous smile.

“Okay, first of all, this is a really obscure one, hear me out,” you prefaced, placing a hand over your mouth as you laughed. The crowd quieted just enough to listen.

“You know that one FBI guy who was on the news this week? The tall one with the brown hair?”

The arena roared in agreement.

JJ turned to Spencer with wide eyes. “Oh my God.”

Spencer paled. “Oh my God.”

Morgan smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Go on, Pretty Boy, let’s hear what she has to say about you.”

On screen, you ran a hand through your hair, adjusting your sparkly red lingerie costume, the curve off your hips and thighs on full display, looking half-amused and half-mortified. “Okay, I genuinely believe—God forgive me if he’s got a girlfriend—but I could take him… Not in a fight, though. He could make me Juno.”

The crowd lost their minds. You smiled, nodding as if you were confirming an inside joke. “I mean, look at him! He’s got that whole cute, unapproachable genius thing going on, but I bet you, under all that statistical analysis, he’s really good in bed. Guys we would have the cutest babies.” You shook your head dismissively and walked towards the back of the stage, your glittery eyeshadow and gloss shining in the spotlight.

The audience howled,

The room went silent.

Then, chaos.

“OH—OH MY GOD,” Emily shrieked, slapping the table. “Reid! You have the most famous singer right now after you”

JJ was laughing behind her hand. Even Rossi looked mildly entertained.

Meanwhile, Spencer stared at the screen in pure horror. “I—what—I don’t—” He ran a hand through his hair, completely at a loss.

Penelope clutched her chest dramatically. “Spencer, how DARE you not tell us you’re a muse for America’s sweetheart?”

“She’s not—I mean, we know each other, but—” Spencer was floundering, his ears turning pink.

Emily grinned wickedly. “YOU KNOW HER? And you never told us? After all the times I paid full price for concert tickets?!”

Spencer’s face was burning. “I—”

“Hey, let’s not forget she did say she could take you,” Morgan teased, nudging his shoulder. “Not in a fight, though.”

The teasing continued, but Spencer had stopped listening. His gaze was still locked on the screen, on you—smiling, laughing, looking effortlessly radiant under the stage lights.

Hours later, the teasing hadn’t stopped.

If anything, it had only gotten worse.

Ever since Penelope’s infamous concert video, the team had been relentless. Any time Spencer so much as breathed, someone found a way to bring you up.

“Hey, Pretty Boy,” Derek grinned as Spencer entered the bullpen, holding a coffee cup. “That statistical analysis and good in bed working out for you?”

Spencer groaned. “You’re never letting that go, are you?”

“Not a chance,” Emily piped up, spinning her chair around. “I mean, America’s sweetheart just exposed her FBI crush to a stadium full of people—and we had to find out from a viral video?”

“I still don’t get why you’re all so invested,” Spencer muttered, sinking into his chair.

JJ smirked from her desk. “Oh, we’re not invested—”

“We’re just waiting for you to admit why she thinks you’re good in bed,” Emily finished, grinning.

Spencer opened his mouth, ready to argue, but a new voice interrupted.

“Guys,” Hotch sighed, stepping out of his office. “Leave Reid alone.”

Spencer exhaled, relieved—until Hotch added, “For now.”

He knew.

They all knew.

It was inevitable at this point. He couldn’t hide it anymore—not when Penelope had somehow dug up even more videos of you talking about him, not when Twitter was obsessed with connecting the dots between your song lyrics and a certain “mystery genius.”

Not when you’d literally texted him this morning:

Y/N: Babe, I’m sorry, I didn’t know they were recording the concert. I can take it back if u want😭

Spencer: That won’t be necessary.

Y/N: thank God, didnt wanna have to explain the whole “I could take him” line…

Spencer: …

Yeah. It was time.

—

Later that evening, the team sat around the round table in the conference room, finishing up paperwork from their last case.

“So, Reid,” Rossi began casually, flipping through a file. “Any fun weekend plans? Or will you be locked away with your books?”

Spencer sighed. “Actually…” He set his pen down, taking a deep breath. “I was planning to spend the weekend with my girlfriend...”

Silence.

Then—

“WHAT?”

Morgan nearly fell out of his chair. Emily’s jaw dropped. Penelope let out an actual squeal.

JJ gasped. “Wait, wait, you mean actually—”

“Yes.” Spencer sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’ve been dating for a while now.”

Rossi just chuckled, sipping his espresso. “Called it.”

Morgan gawked. “Hold on, hold on—you’re telling me you’ve been dating a literal pop star, and you just forgot to mention it?”

“To be fair,” Spencer muttered, “it was classified information until about a week ago when she publicly humiliated me on stage.”

Emily shook her head, still in shock. “Wait—how did this even happen?”

Spencer hesitated, then pulled out his phone, scrolling through his photos until he found one he’d taken months ago: a candid shot of you sitting on his couch, curled up in one of his sweaters, reading a book. You had a mug of tea in your hands, and the look on your face was one of pure, quiet contentment. Another displayed you at the park, feeding bunnies.

The team stared.

“She likes books,” Spencer explained simply. “I like books. It wasn’t that complicated.”

Morgan threw his hands up. “Not complicated? You’re dating America’s sweetheart—that is, by definition, complicated.”

Penelope was practically vibrating. “Oh my God, wait, is she coming here? Can she visit? Can she sign my vinyl?”

Spencer smirked slightly. “I don’t know… depends on how much more you all tease me.” He shoved his hands on his pockets.

The team erupted into protests.

“Come on, Pretty Boy, you can’t just drop a bomb like that and not deliver!”

JJ grinned. “Seriously, Spence. You have to bring her in at some point.”

Spencer shook his head, amused. “We’ll see.”

But as he looked down at his phone—where a new message from you popped up (Y/N: Tell them I say hi, genius)—he had a feeling it wouldn’t be long before you made your grand entrance.

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Pretty Boy | s.r. x fem!reader

a/n: you know i had to do something for glasses reid i’d be crazy not to.

“oh, here comes your pretty boy. capital p and b.” derek’s smooth voice entered your shared office with jj. you didn’t bother asking who, even coyly, he would just say something along the line of “your other half, pretty girl.”

so you rolled your eyes while scanning over a case file, not bothering to direct attention to the man. “and why the need to visit my space?” a teasing reply, both knowing his visits to the double liaison office were once in a blue moon.

there was the sound of shuffling before derek responded, “cause i wanna see your reaction.” such a vague answer that it caused you to pick your head up with a quizzical look, “what are-“ and you stopped when spencer poked his head through the cracked doorway.

“hey y/n, i brought you…” you didn’t hear the rest of his sentence. eyes too focused on spencer’s face and the new wardrobe attire perched along his nose.

your heart beat fast in your ears and you could feel your body warm in temperature. it was like you were sent back in time to high school and spencer was the insanely smart, pretty student ripped right from your fantasies. you hoped you weren’t drooling at the sight.

“y/n? you alright?” spencer’s voice was much closer now and when you blinked he was directly in front of you with the back of his hand to your forehead and a frown on his face. derek’s chuckles filled the crowded space and you couldn’t even manage a side eye.

“you feel warm. you didn’t happen to catch anything from the last case, did you?” full concern with round puppy eyes shining behind black frames. your heart was the picture of a popsicle melting on a hot summer day.

you took a swallow, “not- not that i know of.” eyes honed onto a freckle placed to the left of spencer’s chin.

derek laughed again, “ease up on her, pretty boy.” he moved closer and stood behind spencer’s left shoulder, a smug expression painted on his chiseled face.

“i’m just checking if she’s physically well.” spencer’s voice got high from defending himself and his actions while glaring at derek.

derek then jerked his chin at your sheepish expression, “well it’s declining each second you’re in her space.” joking at the expense of your crush, but spencer took it the wrong way and pulled his arm back to his side. “sorry, right boundaries. should’ve asked first.”

you managed to bounce back when he started moving away, “no! no, it’s- derek’s just joking. i- i don’t mind you touching me.” and it took two, two seconds, for your mind to process your wording.

“oh this is a great morning.” derek howled then decided he’s seen enough, leaving both of you hot and pink cheeked.

squeezing your eyes shut you wished for the floor to swallow you hole and drag you away from this situation. “i’m- i’m sorry… about that. bit- bit scattered brained right now.” trying to play everything off.

“you- you sure you’re alright? i’m certain hotch will let you leave early.” spencer’s brows pinched in the middle turning his face into more of a pout. oh he has no idea the effect on you.

you smiled gentle at his worry, “i’m well, just been staring at potential cases too long, that’s all.” fingering at the edge of the manilla folder in your lap.

“also i like the new look,” circling a finger around your eyes to play charades with him than just mention the holy glasses. “they suit you nicely.” friendly but said with a hint of flirty.

spencer’s smiled widened and his cheeks turned from bubblegum pink to a rosie hue, oh how you wish to just cover him in thousands of kisses. “thanks. i ran out of contacts for the month so i’m stuck with these until then.” making it sound like an inconvenience, but oh how you were gonna suffering for a month of those handsome frames.

you turned your head away before you were caught staring for too long and saw a baby pink bag sitting beside your picture frames. you reached out to grab it then pulled it apart to see a sweet morning treat awaiting for your teeth to sink in. “did you bring this?” asking spencer since you then remember that he said something when arriving but you didn’t hear what.

spencer straightened up and happily beamed, “yeah! i was walking past that pastry shop you like and thought you’d enjoy something for all your hard work.” you both knew that was a straight lie since that pastry shop is an extra ten minutes out of either of yours work routes.

but you didn’t comment on it just looked spencer in the eye and said softly, “thank you, spence. you’re very sweet.” and with a sudden boldness you leaned forward to press a delicate kiss onto his right cheek.

pulling back you noticed spencer’s lips were slightly parted, he looked almost winded from the sudden action. you were gonna apologize if you over stepped but then jj entered her office with derek trailing behind.

“uh… hi.” she stopped two steps inside then saw the way you both fidgeted to appear normal. as if you were doing something you weren’t supposed… “hi, welcome.” “everything normal here.” you and spencer talked over each other.

“okay, not even gonna ask…” waving a folder about, “but i found a case and hotch approved so into the conference room for debriefing.” jj gave both of you a final stare then walked around derek to flee the scene.

“come on pretties, you can smooch later.” “derek!”

[sunni-stuff]

Three days had passed since Jellybean, your rescued stray, vanished. Though an outdoor enthusiast at heart, she'd never missed a meal. Now, your phone tracker beeped, signaling proximity. The crafty runt had escaped, but you were closing in. Jellybean's street-smart ways usually brought her home, yet this time felt different. As you followed the signal, hope and worry battled within.

You traveled alone as none of the townspeople were brave enough to help with your search. The mere mention of the North Woods shook them to the core, earning your request swift declines and slammed doors in your face. Whispers and rumors follow you with every interaction 

Secluded and untraceable, his cabin lies tucked away, invisible to prying eyes.

Rumors swirl of his territorial fury. Trespassers beware—this hunter stalks from afar. His domain is unforgiving, and his presence is a constant threat. The lucky ones spot the warning sign; others never see him coming.

Even the butcher, renowned for his toughness, said no, unwilling to even hear you out.

“There’s a man in the woods,” he said, voice unwavering. “You’d be smart to forget the idea.”

The boom of the door closing makes you flinch, jumping back a bit. A man in the woods? Surely not.

Even more absurd than some creep in the woods was the thought that the big, bad butcher was scared of him. This was a man who walked you home at night, who sneered at men and pulled you close to his side when you became uncomfortable. You knew him for a long time and you’d never seen him so much as flinch, but suddenly he was all squinted eyes and hushed tones at the thought of even stepping a foot off the beaten path. It couldn't be true, right?

Well, there was only one way to prove him wrong, and it was the only way you were gonna get Jellybean back. You’re going in that forest, urban myth or not.

Shadows lengthen as you exit your truck. The door closes with a hollow thud. The townsfolk's warnings replay in your mind, urging caution. You scan the area, heart racing. Drooping leaves cast an ominous veil over the forest. The murky depths seem to whisper, both alluring and forbidding.

Anxiety grips you as you take a step further. "Bean?" You whisper, voice trembling.

Silence answers. Twigs crack underfoot, and each snap creates an ominous echo. You cringe, the sounds amplifying your unease. Yet you press on, searching the quiet forest.

Minutes stretch like hours as you quietly call Bean's name, doing your best not to attract any unwanted attention, as the woods loom, hiding unknown dangers. Glancing down, your phone shows her location, unchanged, since she first wandered off. Jellybean's absence at this late hour is unsettling. She never stayed out of the house this long, and not so still, either. You can't help but think the worst, deciding to hurry closer to her, praying to find her safe.

Venturing deeper, the terrain grew wilder. Massive leaves parted, revealing fallen trunks and tilted trees. The more you looked around, the more it became clear that the uncharted wilderness wasn't made for humans.

There was no possible way.

The forest gave little leeway to those travelings through its domain. Predators strayed barely out of sight, lurking in hopes you'd be their next meal. A howl in the distance has you on edge, skin crawling, the feeling of being watched running anxious edges.

"Just keep walking. It'll be okay. The tracker says she's near." You reassured yourself under quite murmurs, trying to will your heart calm.

Then it appeared without warning.

A wolf lurches from the woodland gloom, baring his jagged canines, poised and ready to pounce. He circles you in a slow, menacing loop, foam pooling from his parted jaws. His eyes blaze with a frenzied gleam, wild and driven by something beyond hunger. Some dark, unseen force propels him, and you feel it tightening around you.

You turn and run.

Run as fast as your legs can carry you, tearing through the thick underbrush. Foliage slaps your arms and face, and the weeds clutch at your ankles like skeletal fingers desperate to drag you down. You ignore the stinging scratches, the pounding in your chest. If you fall, if you falter for even a second—you know it’s over.

Run.

The untamed beast snaps its jaws inches behind you, hot breath searing your calves, each bite narrowly missing as he hounds you with ruthless, single-minded determination. You crash through a thicket, branches clawing at your arms, tearing through your clothes, until you stumble onto a barely visible trail where weak shafts of light seep through gaps in the trees.

There’s no time to think. No time to process the sting of cuts or the burn in your lungs, nothing beyond the raw, primal instinct to get the hell away from the rabid creature on your heels.

Then you see it.

A cabin.

Really, a dilapidated shack, its sagging roof overrun with twisting vines, looms before you, barely held together by rotting beams and splintered boards. The whole structure looks one hard gust away from collapse, yet it’s the only shelter in sight. You don’t hesitate, heart hammering in your chest, and charge toward the door.

In your frantic rush, you miss the glint of watching eyes, shining like dark coals from the shadows behind, tracking your every move.

You burst inside, slamming the door shut with a desperate shove, then lean your back against it. Your chest heaves, each ragged breath scraping your lungs as you struggle to catch your breath, the weight of dread pressing down on you even harder than the beast’s pursuit.

The aroma of simmering soup wafted through the air, warmth enveloping you. A cozy scene unfolded: a bubbling pot atop a wooden stove, a modest desk tucked away, and a solitary lantern casting a soft glow. The space exuded an unexpected warmth, soft light pooling over worn furniture and the faint scent of old wood calming your frayed nerves. Your pulse slowed as the familiar coziness settled around you. Then, a gentle brush against your leg pulled you from the haze of adrenaline.

You glanced down—and there she was. Jellybean, her eyes wide and radiant, a few telltale crumbs clinging to her brown fur from some long-forgotten snack.

A rush of tenderness overtook the fading remnants of panic. You reached down, catching the elusive little troublemaker as she gave an indignant squirm. “You little—” The half-hearted scold fizzled, replaced by a sudden, overwhelming need to hold her close. “How—How did you end up here, huh?”

Holding Jellybean close, you feel the weight of your situation settling over you—a stranger in a cabin far from familiar ground, with the last of the sunlight slipping away, trapping you inside until dawn. Outside was darkness thick and impenetrable, the forest itself a living maze you dared not attempt at night.

“Shit,” you mutter, voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might stir something in the shadows.

Slowly, you move deeper into the space, eyes sweeping over the bare walls and spartan furniture. There’s something unnervingly sterile about the place—no photos, no knickknacks. Not a trace of personality or life. Who would live here? The rumors of some reclusive figure haunting these woods flash through your mind.

No. You shake your head, brushing off the thought. This was probably just some hunter’s shack. Or a place someone from town stayed now and then, just a shelter, nothing more.

Your foot presses down on a loose floorboard, and a loud creak echoes through the stillness. You freeze, heartbeat stuttering. Jellybean’s ears twitch, but she remains calm. Before you can step back, a low groan seeps from somewhere within the cabin, rolling through the floorboards, shivering up your spine.

Your grip tightens on Jellybean, and you hold your breath, listening.

“I-Is anyone there…?” Your voice barely steady. The words hover in the silence, as though the shadows themselves are holding their breath, waiting.

Then, clear as day, you hear it.

“Help… me…”

The voice is thin and broken, barely more than a whisper. Instinct screams at you to ignore it, to sit tight until morning. But something tugs at you. The sound is weak, desperate—human. The cabin feels suddenly smaller, its walls pressing in, urging you to run.

“Please… someone help me…"

A shiver races down your spine. Curse your altruism. You clutch Jellybean tighter, swallowing back the fear rising in your throat.

“U-uh, where…?” The question slips out before you can think, shaky and uncertain.

Silence stretches taut, pressing against your ears. Then, faint and low, a whining sound rises from beneath the floorboards, almost like a wounded animal. Every instinct screams at you to turn back, to stay safe. But you find yourself edging closer to the noise, heart hammering against your ribs.

Your gaze lands on a small, almost-hidden door near the far wall—the entrance to a cellar.

The pleas are louder here, wavering but persistent, each whisper curling up from the depths. “Help… please…”

You should walk away. This is a bad idea. A terrible idea. But, against every sliver of common sense, your hand reaches out, fingers trembling as they brush over the handle.

It turns with a rusty groan, and you pull the door open, revealing a narrow staircase descending into shadow. At the bottom, you catch the flicker of ember light, glowing faintly as if from a dying fire.

The cellar stretches out before you, a vast, dimly lit space far larger than should exist beneath such a modest shack. Shadows cling to the walls, the only light casting a faint, sickly orange glow that barely cuts through the murk. You step cautiously, heart-pounding, but then you glance to your right—and freeze.

The scene hits you with a nauseating force. Men hang suspended from thick meat hooks, bodies bruised and broken, some barely clinging to life, others unmoving, their faces blank and eyes empty. Their battered forms twist slightly in the air, like grotesque puppets left to dangle and rot. You swallow hard, stomach twisting as bile rises in your throat.

But then the horror deepens—recognition dawns. One face after another, familiar, each one seared into memory. The delivery driver who refused to take no for an answer, the lawyer from the pub whose relentless advances wore you down, the pizza guy who loitered outside your job, watching, waiting. All here. Hung like slabs of meat in this nightmarish cellar.

Your mind spins, the details piecing together in a sickening realization. The butcher. He’d warned them off, told you they wouldn’t bother you anymore. But this? This was something beyond any threat, beyond any punishment you’d ever imagined.

How? How had they ended up here? How did any of this exist beneath an unassuming cabin in the middle of the woods?

You weren’t supposed to see this. This was something that should have remained buried, hidden in the depths where secrets go to rot. The enormity of it presses down on you, making it hard to breathe, hard to think.

But then, one of them stirs. The pizza guy, his head lolling weakly to the side, lifts his face. His eyes, clouded and bloodshot, light up with recognition—a desperate spark of life in his hollow gaze. “Help! Please, before he comes back!” he rasps, voice cracking.

He.

The word rings in your mind, cold and jagged. He? Who could do this? Who would do this?

Your voice trembles as the question slips out, a thin whisper in the oppressive silence. “W—who… who are you talking about?”

The cellar door slams shut behind you, the echo reverberating off the cold stone walls, trapping you in the silence that follows. Heavy, methodical footsteps descend the rotting stairs, each step creaking beneath his weight. His breathing is deep, ragged, each inhale and exhale marking his slow, purposeful approach.

Don’t turn around.

Your body locks up, instinct screaming to flee, but your legs refuse to move. You clutch Jellybean tightly to your chest, but suddenly, she squirms, thrashing in your arms in a way she never has before. Confusion twists through your terror—Jellybean has always clung to you, never trying to escape. What was she doing?

With a leap, she slips from your grasp, landing soundlessly on the floor. She pads past you, moving behind you, and the silence is filled with soft, delighted purring.

You don’t want to look. You hold still, desperately hoping that if you don’t move, you’ll disappear, fade into the shadows. But you can feel him standing just behind you, the weight of his presence pressing down like a storm cloud.

And then, a voice. Familiar. Deep, smooth, and thick with a British lilt, edged with something that both chills and soothes you.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, a note of affection clear in his tone as he addresses Jellybean.

Recognition strikes you like a blow. That voice—you’ve heard it a thousand times. The same voice that always offered a warm “good evening” when he walked you home at night. The same voice that laughed as he handed Jellybean her treats at the butcher shop. The same voice that warned you, with a peculiar intensity, to avoid these woods.

The butcher.

---

A/N: I don't usually do long writing stuff... but I've had this one in the drafts for too long and wanted it out. I kind of like how it turned out but I can def improve!

[katskitoshi]

"W-WAIT, YOU'RE NOT A BOY?" with TWISTED WONDERLAND

synopsis: he's gotten to the point where he thinks he knows everything about you, until you (accidentally) spring on him that you're not even a guy.

characters: riddle, trey, cater, ace, deuce, leona, ruggie, jack, azul, jade, floyd, kalim, jamil, vil, rook, epel, idia, ortho, malleus, lilia, silver, & sebek x fem! reader

includes: mutual crush relationships (everyone -ortho), cursing, mentions panties and bras, slightly suggestive in some parts.

--------------------------------------------------------------

if not for an unbirthday party where you needed an outfit that accommodated your body more, riddle rosehearts would have never noticed unless you outwardly told him. only now did he realize your more feminine features, and he turns as red as his hair. after realizing, he does treat you slightly more respectful because he was raised to treat women respectfully. besides being more respectful, flustered, and in love with you, not much changed in you two's friendship.

trey clover would have found out sooner or later even if his hand never touched your bra on accident while tying your apron. he straight up asks if you're a girl, and when you tell him you are he acts surprised and flustered. honestly, not much changes. he acts the exact same but gets slightly more protective of you.

when cater diamond found out over magicam that you were a a girl, he nearly died. he just though you were one of the guys that were more naturally feminine, only to find out you're actually a female. honestly, he's not mad. he still loves you! he'll help you keep it a secret if you wish, but if you don't want to, there probably won't be a student in the school who doesn't know you're a girl. but don't worry, he'll keep all those icky pervs away!

okay, okay. because he's a little shit, he wanted to prank you and it just happened to involve you dressing yourself. so ace trappola waited until he knew you were changing to barge into your room, only to be face to face with you in just a bra and panties. he screams, like a girl, more girly than you, and rushed out the dorm with his face red. the next day is awkward, but at least he knows his crush is a girl, and that you have a really cute body under the clothes that convinces others you're a boy.

it's just so strange, the feelings deuce spade has. he even calls his mom and tells her all about his little crush. but by the way he was describing you, ms. spade didn't think you were a guy. so deuce builds up the courage to ask you if you're actually a guy. to his surprise when you tell him you're not, he dies of embarrassment. queue delinquent deuce whenever someone makes some pervy comment (or generally speaks) to you.

honestly, leona kingscholar probably knew already. he could probably sense or smell the female hormones on your or something. i don't know, all i know is that leona knows. he doesn't really have to ask or anything. he just knows. and you think he knows because he treats you better than any other male in the school. his attitude towards you doesn't ever really change but he's definitely flirty with you.

ruggie bucchi is in the same boat is leona. they both can just tell you're not a guy. however, he fears you. male hyenas usually listen to their female counterpart, so ruggie usually just listens. however, when he realizes he has control and that you aren't a threat, he's definitely becomes more friendly around you. no matter how much he fears you, his crush never ever leaves.

i won't lie, but every person in savanaclaw probably knows you're a girl. jack howl included. he won't make it painfully obvious that he knows but he definitely lets you know subtly know he knows. he shows you great amounts of respect and sometimes can't help but feel absolutely vile for thinking of you in some... not so respectful ways.

look, you're gonna give the poor octopus a heart attack once he finds out! you're filling out a contract and you inform azul ashengrotto that you're a girl and ask for certain things to be changed. he simply dies on the spot from shock and is a blushy little octopus. he thinks of using you to convince more people to the monstro lounge, but he can't do that to his crush!

just as expected, jade leech finds out rather quickly. one walk in the forrest on a hot day and a crop top with some sweat soaking through was enough to spill the beans. of course he had his suspicions, but you confirmed them for him! he finds you somehow cuter with your secret revealed. don't worry, your secret is safe with him!

floyd leech always thought you were just so cute! so, he just has to squeeze you to show you his love, right? when he squeezed you, he felt something push against him. he realized what he felt was what all the female merfolk had. "oh, shrimpy! you have boobs!" and he enjoys squeezing your boobs more than you. it doesn't matter if they're big or small, he just can't stop squeezing them!

this shouldn't come as a surprise, but it takes kalim al-asim a long time to find out. i mean, he can quite literally see you naked and be like "wow! you're very female-bodied for a guy!" of course, he didn't find out that way, but he could have. he actually found out by spilling water on you and seeing your bra. anyways, he's surprisingly calm about it. he still treats you like a friend that he has an obvious crush on, so yeah!

jamil viper is surprisingly shocked at what he found out. a little cooking mishap caused you to take off your oversized hoodie and make jamil realize your more... feminine features on your upper body. of course, he's a lot more over protective of you, and oh! he just can't stop staring! he tries his best, but his crush is just a bit more apparent!

he had always had his suspicions. vil schoenheit always thought your more feminine appearance had been more than some accidental blessing. apparently, he was proven right when on a shopping spree he got a little look of your breasts while trying on some clothes. he'll bring you all sorts of clothes that he thinks will suit you, enjoying getting to see you try on the clothes. you can tell he knows your little secret by the more.. risky.. clothes, if you can even call them that, he requests you in.

rook hunt knew from the first second he saw you. you come into night raven and expect not to be observed by the hunter? how cute. he gets actual confirmation when he was watching you change one night. of course he looked away while you were naked (maybe not), but he saw your bra and completely knew. the next day, he obviously hugged you more to try and egg you on that he knows (and feel you), but don't worry, it doesn't take to long to find out.

okay, so epel felmier though you two were on the same boat. two really pretty men cursed by genetics somehow. but, after he takes you on a magic wheel ride and feels you against him, he realizes he is alone. he's obviously flustered but he feels more manly somehow? he protects you and comes off as manly as possible. surely other guys will see how manly he is if his crush, and the only girl on campus, sees it, right?

when idia shroud found out, he was more than surprised and honestly didn't even think he could face you ever again! with a bit of convincing from his dear little brother, he could face you again. although with pink tinted hair and a red face, he'll still see you! how did he find out exactly? well, he accidentally touched you boob when aiming to punch your shoulder after a won game.

(platonic) a simple body scan gave ortho shroud the answers he needed. ortho is the biggest idia x [name] shipper on the planet! he'll call you 'big sister', and probably lock you in a room with idia if it'll help speed up the love-i-fication process. eventually he'll break the news to his brother, but he loves playing the waiting game with him. is idia getting any closer to finding out? no- wait, yes, wait-!

malleus draconia is an intelligent man. however, to crack this mystery, he'll need every clue and sign laid before him. once he pieces the picture together, he still might need to to clarify that you are in fact a woman. and don't forget, malleus is a gentleman. he'll treat you with love and respect as he courts you, beds you, and makes you his queen.

at some age, you just realize what everyone is, y'know? lilia vanrouge just knows that you're a girl. it probably started out at a gut feeling that ended up true. and maybe he'll let you know that he knows by giving you a cutely wrapped box of matching black and pink panty and bra set! maybe with a rose and a note that says 'be my girl?'

sleepyhead silver realizes completely by accident when he just wanted to lay on your shoulder. next thing you know, you've pulled his head to your thighs and when he tries to look up, he's meet with a new type of pillow. he's conflicted between staying awake or going to sleep upon this newfound discovery. either way, don't think that his sleepiness will prevent him from wanting to be as knightly as possible for you.

sebek zigvolt accidentally unhooks your bra when trying to fix your posture. it's an awkward moment and sebek is surprisingly quiet when he asks you your gender. his loudness returns as he begins yelling about how informal he's been to you. as a servant of his dear master malleus, he promises to treat you with the utmost respect!

[storyslover]

Could you write another fic where y/n is in a Quadrant video maybe y/n is a quadrant athlete and lando is so loving and supportive of her

HI, I TRIED TO MAKE IT LIKE YOUR REQUEST BUT ADDED MY TOUCH TO IT. HOPE YOU LIKE IT.

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SPILL YOUR GUTS

 Pairing: Lando Norris x F2!driver!Reader (established relationship) Setting: Quadrant YouTube studio — a new Spill Your Guts episode Tone: Flirty, intimate, realistic, and a little suggestive Word Count: ~3,500

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“You’re gonna regret agreeing to this.”

Lando’s voice was low behind you as you sat down on the Spill Your Guts set, fake neon sushi glowing on one side of the table and bowls of unidentifiable, terrifying food on the other.

You smirked and leaned back against him slightly. “I already regret dating someone with such a big mouth.”

He gave your waist a subtle squeeze before letting go. “That big mouth’s kissed you in some pretty risky places.”

“Lando—”

“Mic’s on, by the way,” Max called from behind the camera, grinning. “Keep it down, lovebirds.”

You put your head in Lando’s neck, embarrassed. “You're evil.”

 Max, laugh at your embarrassment.

“Stop teasing her. “Lando glared at Max.

You were the guest for this episode of Spill Your Guts or Fill Your Guts—Quadrant’s beloved, unhinged food-and-chaos segment. Your title? Officially, F2 driver. Also officially: part of Quadrant’s new athlete lineup.

Unofficially? Lando Norris’s girlfriend.

Not that either of you had confirmed it—yet. But there were hints: a soft-launched ski trip. Your voice in the background of his stream. His hoodie is on your Twitch. A cropped selfie with a driver’s pass just barely showing his name on your wristband.

Subtle… but not subtle enough for the internet to miss.

So when Quadrant asked you to be in a video, you knew what you were walking into.

You just didn’t know they’d stack the questions like this.

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Round One: Max vs Y/N

Max picked up his card, his grin already too smug.

“Alright, Y/N. Question one. You’ve been in the paddock for a while now… so out of all the current F1 drivers—not counting Lando—who’s the hottest?”

The table immediately erupted.

Ria howled. Niran ducked under the table.

You leaned back, eyes wide. “That’s so dirty.”

Max laughed. “Then eat the duck tongue. Or answer.”

You looked at the plate. It looked… like someone had yanked it off an actual duck two hours ago.

You turned slightly in your seat and locked eyes with Lando, who was sitting just off-camera. His arms were crossed. A single brow was raised. Amused but clearly paying attention.

You narrowed your eyes at him, then turned back to Max with a shrug.

“Easy. Charles.”

Lando let out a dramatic scoff. “Oh, wow, okay.”

You grinned, playing it up. “Objectively speaking. Bone structure? Hair? Monaco accent?”

“You’re not helping yourself.”

Max leaned forward. “Is that your final answer?”

You glanced at Lando again, then smiled slyly. “Actually… Pierre has the arms.”

Lando stood up. “Okay, she’s sleeping on the couch tonight.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Round Two: Ria vs Y/N

Ria picked up her card, practically bouncing in her seat.

“Ooooh. This one’s so good. Okay. Y/N… what’s the most scandalous place you and Lando have hooked up?”

Lando  choked on his water.

Niran smacked the table and howled. Max looked like he’d won the lottery.

Your entire face went warm.

Ria grinned. “You can tell us or eat the century egg.”

The smell hit you immediately. You gagged.

Lando, from behind the camera, said calmly, “You could just eat the egg.”

You looked over your shoulder at him. “Coward.”

“I’m protecting our dignity.”

You turned back to the table. “Alright, you wanna know?”

Turn to look at Lando behind the camera “Sorry, i can’t eat it.”

Lando rolled his eyes.

Everyone leaned in.

“The McLaren hospitality bathroom.”

The studio exploded.

Max fell out of his chair. Ria was screaming. Niran ran out of frame.

Lando covered his face with both hands, muttering, “Nooo, you didn’t—”

You grinned wickedly. “Back when I was in F3. No one knew me. We got cocky.”

Ria gasped. “So you just—”

“Used his pass to sneak in. Didn’t even lock the door properly.”

Lando groaned.

“And I’d do it again.” 

Max is dying. “I am already imagining the headlines’ Lando Norris and y/n y/l/n F2 driver get frisky in The McLaren hospitality bathroom’ and your PR teams sweating. “

I look down, embarrassed .

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Round Three: Niran vs Y/N

Niran’s question was sneakily soft.

“Okay, final one,” he said. “You’ve got everything on the line—career, legacy, reputation. If you could only choose one: the F1 seat of your dreams��� or a life with Lando. What do you pick?”

The whole room went quiet.

You blinked.

Even Lando, off-camera, stopped shifting.

You exhaled slowly. “That’s not fair.”

Niran raised his brows. “You can skip it.by drinking the drink in front of you. “

You didn’t.

“I’ve worked my entire life for a seat in F1,” you said. “Since I was a kid. Every sacrifice, every night alone in hotel rooms, every injury, every sponsor meeting, every lap…”

You looked up.

“But I’d still pick him.”

Lando’s expression changed in an instant—shock, awe, something soft and deep that flickered behind his eyes like it hit straight in the chest.

“Because if I made it to the top and he wasn’t there,” you said quietly, “it wouldn’t matter.”

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Behind the Scenes

Later, when the cameras stopped rolling and the crew started packing up, you snuck off to the corner hallway near the break room.

Lando found you there—leaning against the wall, scrolling through your phone to avoid how your heart was pounding.

“You meant it?”

You looked up.

He was standing close now, his voice low.

“The F1 seat,” he said. “You’d give that up?”

You tucked your phone away and looked at him properly. “If it came down to losing you? Yeah. I would.”

Lando didn’t smile this time.

Instead, he stepped in and pressed his forehead to yours, his hands sliding down to your waist, warm and grounding.

“I’d never ask you to choose,” he murmured. “But just so you know… I’d have picked you, too.”

You let your eyes flutter shut, exhaling against his mouth.

“Good,” you whispered. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

He kissed you then—slow but firm, like a promise.

And when you pulled back, his voice was rough.

“You realize the fans are going to lose their minds over this video, right?”

You grinned. “Yeah, i know “ 

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Top Comments Under the Video:

@quadrantchaos: "The McLaren hospitality bathroom." I AM ON THE FLOOR.

@wifeyofnorris: no bc the way Lando looked at her during the F1 seat question?? soulmates.

@f2babe: We all knew they were together, but THIS?? This was a RELATIONSHIP hard launch to END ALL HARD LAUNCHES.

@lan4rdo: She said Pierre has the ARMS and lived to tell the tale. queen. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------

HERE IS A NEW ONE HOPE YOU LIKE IT GUYS.

[inuiiwonderland]

Empire

Being crowned as empress of the Yuunkaedangon empire at the age of 17, you begin to start loving the new status and power. But it soon gets a bit boring and demanding the moment you turned 18. Harem? Heirs? Tf not!

Chapter 2

Words:1.0k

Fem reader but I don’t really say any she or her in this.

-

Being an empress has started to get a little boring now if you’re being honest. You frown at the stack of books and papers you had sitting on your desk. You turned to your attendant with a pout. He only shakes his head with a soft sigh.

“It’s the only way you can keep the higher ups from demanding an heir at the moment” He says calmly. You sigh as you pick up your writing equipment.

Bill passing….

BORING!

“I’m too young to have a child” You muttered. A little annoyed.

“Having kids isn’t all that bad, but I get why you’re upset”

You hum softly.

Now this isn’t you saying you hate kids or anything! You think they're alright, a little needy and loud but overall okay.

It’s just

You aren’t ready

“Ah I’ve had a talk with one of the higher ups earlier and he said that your consorts need ladies in waiting” You perk up.

“Ladies in waiting?”

“Mhm”

“I guess you’re right. Plus, it’ll be nice company for them since I’m not always gonna be there”

“Great. I’ll tell the higher ups tomorrow and have them assign them their own”

“Make sure they do background checks. Can’t have creeps and unworthy people working for my lovely consorts now can I?” You say. Your attendant nods.

“By the way, how’s your son?” His eyes lit up. He then goes on a rant about how his son is currently taking swordsman lessons and that he's getting better day by day. You smile.

At least now you can slack off just a little bit!

-

You watch as the last of the few ladies and men have been brought into the throne room. You eyed every single one carefully, some shivering under your watchful eyes as others seemed confident or uncomfortable.

“These are the best candidates the higher ups were able to gather last night” Your attendant, atsushi bows before calling out the first person up.

Both Riddle and Leona watch carefully at every single person that steps up. Listening closely to every single thing that comes out of their mouth along with their appearance, how they carry themselves, etc.

“Ace trappola! Young man from the Queendom Of Roses, good talents are cleaning, tending animals, and……card tricks?” The boy, “Ace” stifles a laugh but was given a stern look from his older brother which made him stop.

Riddle can already sense that he’s big trouble while Leona could really care less.

You get a good look at Ace.

He’s average height, fair skin, fluffy orange hair, and scarlet like eyes.

Not bad

And you won’t lie, he’s kinda funny.

You turn to riddle, wondering if he’ll take in trappola as a lady in waiting.

Riddle can already feel your stare on him. His cheeks turn a light pink at your stare.

“I’ll take him” He mutter softly. Small pout as he looks away. Leona scoffs.

“Excellent! Next”

After what seems to be hours (years even)

Your two lovely consorts have each of their own ladies in waiting.

Riddle: Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Cater Diamond

Leona: Ruggie Bucchi, Jack Howl

Once everyone was satisfied with their choices, your attendant dismissed the ones who weren’t chosen. You walked down to greet the new ladies in waiting with a soft smile.

“It’s nice to have you young gentleman here” You say. The boys jumped before quickly bowing to you. You smile.

“Now you know that each of you will be staying with and taking care of my two precious consorts right?” Riddle turns a bright red as Leona looks away. You can tell your charms got to him by how he fiddles with the hem of his sleeves.

“I hope you guys take good care of them!……or else” You gave them a menacing look. The five boys gulp, before nodding their heads. Some of them held a look of determination while a few….looked a little scared.

Perfect!

“Great! I’ll have my lovely attendant escort you guys back to your pavilions” You gave each concubine a kiss on the cheek before making your way out. A happy go lucky look on your face as the ladies in waiting can only look at each other and shiver in fear.

What a scary empress!

-

It’s been two months since you’ve gotten your consorts their ladies in waiting.

And it’s going great so far!

….

…..

Kinda

Riddle has been having trouble with Ace lately- scratch that, he’s been having trouble with him since he entered the heartslabyul pavilion.

He’ll rant to you about him every time you stop by and visit. You’ll just massage his tensed shoulders and whisper sweet words in his ears until he stops and relaxes.

Other than Ace, the other two don’t trouble him at all! Very good care takers, cleaners, and cooks!

Leona on the other hand, doesn't have any trouble with his ladies in waiting.

They’re patient, quick and ready to do anything he needs, and very good cooks!

Happy wives, happy life!

Not wives yet

Now speaking of wives, you are currently reading a letter from a high end family that wants their son to be a part of your harem.

Ha….you haven’t gotten one of these in months

“The Ashengrotto Family” You mutter. You paced back and forth in your home office as you read the letter.

“He’s the son of a very high ranking merchant. His mother owns a very successful restaurant somewhere near the east side and his stepfather is an ex military official”

“Mm”

You haven’t taken anyone in after Leona. And your vassal keeps pestering you to grow your harem.

Weirdos

Maybe it’s finally time to take someone in again!

“Schedule a meeting for tomorrow in the afternoon” You yawn out, ready to end this busy day and go to bed.

“Already done”

“Huh?” You turn around to see your attendant wearing a prideful smile.

“I know you will agree!” He says.

Eh?!

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm! Now go get some sleep, Mrs. Ashengrotto is very excited to meet you tomorrow!”

“You’re killing me”

“No”

“Yes….”

“By the way, are those papers done yet?” He asks.You froze. He raises a thick brow as he patiently waits. You batted your lashes at him as you sway side to side.

“Y’knowwwww you’re right! I should get some much deserved sleep, don't you think?” You slowly walk closer to the exit, still making eye contact as your hand slowly inches closer to the door.

“Y/n” he says sternly.

“Bye bye good night!” And with that you make a quick escape.

“Y/n!”

atsushi only sighs before a small smile creeps up upon his face.

“Just like their old man”

-

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If you want to join the Taglist, feel free to tell me!☺️

If you have any questions or anything about this AU don’t be afraid to ask!

ALSO TYSM FOR 1k FOLLOWERS!!! LOVE YOU ALL AND THANK YOU FOR ALL THE SUPPORT!!!

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[qqueenofhades]

been seeing some responses to the many many lawsuits and other actions taken against trumpet and munkfruit that fall along the lines of "this isn't enough, it's already too late, you can't fight fascism with the law, we're all gonna die." i understand the fear, truly, but i'm curious as to your thoughts on it, as to me it seems like this sort of behavior/posting doesn't do much beyond embolden the narrative that everyone actually likes these bastards and they're too powerful to be stopped.

Welp. This is the kind of question that requires me to write a long and complex sociopolitical/critical/historical/Discourse-esque analysis that will take a while and which I am trying to do only selectively, but I'm at home on Saturday morning, I don't have anything else to do right now, and it does present me an opportunity to address some things I've been thinking about. So. We'll give it a shot.

The first thing that has struck me is that in a few short weeks, we're getting a sharp empirical disproving of two common online-leftist fallacies: one, the old "both parties are exactly the same" chestnut, and two, "the only resistance that matters is Violent Glorious Revolution" (which somehow and conveniently never happens). We had months and months of "Biden is just as bad as Trump!!!" being spread as gospel truth in online-leftist circles, and then when Harris took over, it switched just as seamlessly into "Harris is just as bad as [or even worse than] Trump!" Now, as I have said before, there were plenty of legitimate criticisms to make of Biden, particularly the Gaza policy (upon which Harris notably differed). But it's quite telling that the keyboard warriors who spent all of last year howling for The Righteous Punishment of Biden-Harris (regardless that the obvious ancillary consequence was letting Trump come to power) have either disappeared completely when it comes to dealing with the results of that rhetoric, or have switched to "everything is doomed so I guess we shouldn't bother anyway." Like. Trump is now proposing to fully ethnically cleanse Gaza and either blithely hand it over to Israel or build Jared Kushner Beachfront Resort Disneyworld, and what do we hear in protest? For the most part, crickets. These are not serious people. Their opposition is not morally consistent, and it only depends on how they can make themselves look good. I thought that Trump was somehow supposed to be magically better than Biden particularly on the Gaza issue, and that was why it was worth letting him get elected? Or something? Something!?!

I'm curious as to whether those people still legitimately think that Harris would have spent her first few weeks in office dismantling USAID, signing weekly anti-trans executive orders, unleashing ICE across the country and terrorizing immigrant communities, putting the Project 2025 guy in charge of the Office of Management and Budget, letting Elon Musk run rampant with Treasury data, nominating the likes of RFK Jr. and Tulsi Gabbard to Cabinet posts, trying to freeze all federal funding, stripping DEI initiatives, dismantle the Department of Education -- etc. etc. The thing is, as ghoulish as it is, none of this is a surprise, because it is literally what Trump and his people spent the entire presidential campaign loudly, openly, and repeatedly promising to do. However awful they were and are, they were not remotely secret about their intentions. That information was out in the open every time they opened their mouths. But too many people didn't pay attention, rationalized it away, decided that "he won't actually do that" (despite the fact that he launched a literal violent coup attempt on the Capitol the last time he was in office), or just made up their minds that Trump Will Reduce Grocery Prices and refused to listen to any information that countered that view. What do we get now? Trump laughing off the grocery-prices issue and insisting that it's "not a priority" and Musk managing to claim that the real problem is government spending, not corporate greed. Again, this was completely predictable, because y'all got willingly suckered. It was not hard to see it coming.

That said: if the Glorious Online Leftist Revolution is still coming, and by some lights we might now legitimately need it, where the fuck is it? Are they still out there banging the drum against Trump and his "let's ethnically cleanse Gaza" policy and anything else that they insisted, they swore up and down, was functionally equivalent or possibly even marginally better than Biden-Harris getting another term? No. They're either dead silent, offering weak excuses, or completely giving into "we're doomed there's no point fighting back through weak shitlib institutions that are obviously terrible and will fail" blubbering that makes no fucking sense. One, because they move the goalposts so constantly that there's not even any attempt to reckon with the last effects of their damaging bullshit, and two? As I said, where's the fucking Revolution magically coming to save us and install a perfect leftist utopia (which is never how revolutions have ever worked) and sweep away Government Tyranny? Is that only for when a Democrat is in office and you can have confidence that the government is not going to come after you in the middle of the night for talking about it? Now that there's an actual fascist in power, it's somehow too hard to resist at all, even in small, institutional, and everyday ways that are often far more effective at practically confounding the bad stuff instead of empty and useless online echo chambers, so guess we should all just give up??!

Fuck. That.

This is also why we have to talk about the catastrophic lack of information literacy and critical thinking skills in young leftist spaces. A good example is the recent migration of TikTok users to the Chinese app RedNote. It was sweet for a little while as there was cultural exchange and friendship and memes. But then, predictably, it dove hard into "ah, once again The Evil US Government Has Lied To Us and there are no problems at all in China!" I have seen posts float by on my dash that unironically claim this is the case and China is truly great and Americans should want to move there and clearly all that business about authoritarian control and mass repression was just a ruse by, again, The Evil US Government. If you are so utterly devoid of basic information literacy and research abilities that your standard of proof for "is the Chinese government repressively authoritarian and totalitarian" is "a random Chinese person on an app in a country where the Internet is viciously controlled and voicing the slightest criticism can make you disappear told me that it isn't," then for Christ's fucking sake, you need help. For one, it wasn't just the US government saying this. It was, y'know, Chinese dissidents, the entire nation of Taiwan, historians, academics, researchers, the Uyghur Muslims of Xinjiang, etc etc. If your only standard for believing or supporting anything is "the opposite of what the US government thinks," then you are perfect targets for authoritarianism. Hey, a person living under an authoritarian regime who will punish them if they speak out against it told me everything was fine! Clearly there's nothing to worry about and we should want it here in America!

Come on. Come on.

This is also the case because uneducated young leftists like to unironically label themselves "communists" or "Marxist-Leninists" as if it's cool and hip and has never been involved in anything problematic in all of history, so anything that calls itself that must be supported. Shoutout to the idiot in my notes recently who reblogged a several-year-old post just to shout at me about how historical communists NEVER worked with or collaborated with fascists, because something something The Communists Were The Pure Shining Good Guys! (Uh, nobody tell them about the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact.) Clearly, the Chinese Communist Party is good and beneficial, end of story, no more criticism or caution needed! Obviously, yes, official American policy toward China has often been driven by basic Sinophobia, and the determination that nobody can change American hegemony or unipolarity or its ability to call the shots how it pleases. But if that is the literally only criteria you're using, then yeah. If you're so unaware that "the Chinese people are ordinary human beings" and "the Chinese government is repressive and authoritarian" are statements that can and in fact do coexist, then apparently you've missed the situation you're in right now, where "the American people are ordinary human beings" and "the American government is repressive and authoritarian" is also the case. Because online leftism is essentially devoid of a consistent moral principle and will just blithely switch up to support Bad Things as long as they're being done by governments with the correct ideological label, here we are.

Anyway. This is getting long, but the main takeaway is that the "all resistance against Trump is doomed and I guess we just gotta die :(" line is now, somehow, often coming from the same people who were constantly yelling that the only hope was a Glorious Revolution against Biden-Harris, and it is somehow even stupider. So you'll trumpet about Gloriously Overthrowing The Government all the day long as long as a Democrat is in office, but the instant a Republican gets in there instead and starts acting like an actual fascist, welp, time to just shut up and accept our doom and not even bother to struggle? Please tell me how any of that makes sense. Especially when actively confounding the Trump/Musk Axis of Evil is already working. There is also the fact that the establishment-media types are supporting this narrative for reasons of their own; witness the fact that the entire US corporate media is owned by oligarchs who hastened to bend the knee and pledge fealty to Trump 2.0. They obviously also have a reason for inculcating hopelessness in you, and that the only recourse is to shut up, accept it, and let them continue to rob you blind. Because American democracy will never matter as much as money, power, and control for the Billionaire Bros.

The point is: this is a bad-faith narrative on all sides. Whether it's coming from the online leftists in their latest head-spinningly hypocritical volte-face, the oligarch-owned corporate media that wants to feed you constant Bad News to keep you clicking and worried and distracted and unable to resist, the Trumpist power that wants people to quit making this pesky stink about all their authoritarian fascist adventures, or anyone else. There is nobody who has your best interests at heart if they are telling you that everything is doomed and the only thing to do is lie down and take it. There is no logical reason you should listen to them. Go forth and keep resisting, in whatever way presents itself. Those cumulative small actions are far more effective than any Splendid Revolution that never, ever materializes, while the people who preach it just sit back and whine about how things are so bad now so clearly they couldn't. Shut up.

It is always important. It always matters. It will make a difference.

Courage, etc.

[evermoreness]

moonlight and mending pt.7 | remus lupin

pairing: remus lupin x reader

summary: you and remus are definitely a couple, just not officially yet.

obs: this is part seven of a series. here's part one and part eight

masterlist

James was the first to bring it up. Naturally.

“So, Moony," he started, plopping onto his bed dramatically, "are we just gonna pretend you didn’t finally kiss her, or…?"

Remus, who had been peacefully reading a book, sighed and closed it with a soft thud. "I was really hoping you’d all have better things to do than meddle in my love life."

Sirius grinned from his bed, arms folded behind his head. "Oh, Remus, darling, you vastly underestimate our commitment to making your life miserable."

Peter snickered, eyes wide with curiosity. "So, how was it?"

James leaned forward, elbows on his knees, a smug glint in his eyes. "Yeah, tell us, Moony. Did she completely sweep you off your feet?"

Remus rolled his eyes, but the slight redness in his ears betrayed him. "You lot are unbearable."

"You like us unbearable," Sirius said, smirking. "Now, spill. Who kissed who first?"

"Moony definitely got kissed first," James declared confidently. "He’s a coward."

"Hey," Remus protested, glaring at James.

Peter frowned. "But wait, if she kissed him first, does that really count as his first kiss? Maybe he still hasn’t technically had one."

"Merlin, Wormtail, what kind of logic is that?" Sirius laughed.

James waved them both off. "Alright, alright, so who kissed who?"

Remus exhaled heavily, rubbing his face. There was no escaping this.

"I kissed her first," he admitted.

A beat of silence. Then—

"OH, YOU DOG!" Sirius howled, practically rolling off his bed in excitement.

"That’s my boy!" James cheered, slapping his knee.

Peter’s mouth fell open. "Wait—you kissed her?!"

Remus sighed. "Yes, Wormtail, that’s generally how kissing works."

Sirius grinned. "I have never been prouder of you, Moony. What happened to all that self-doubt and hesitation?"

James wiggled his eyebrows. "Guess love makes a bold man out of you."

"Right, sure, love," Remus muttered, grabbing his book again, but there was no hiding the tiny, pleased smile tugging at his lips.

Sirius caught it immediately. "Oh, look at him! All smug and in love."

"I’m not—"

"Do you think about her before you sleep?" James interrupted.

"Do you see her and just start smiling for no reason?" Peter added.

"Do you miss her the second she’s not around?" Sirius smirked.

Remus groaned, running a hand through his hair. "I hate all of you."

Sirius clutched his chest dramatically. "Oh no, James, he’s deflecting! It must be true love!"

James pretended to wipe a tear. "Our little Moony’s all grown up."

"Merlin, just kill me now," Remus mumbled, throwing a pillow at Sirius’s face.

Sirius caught the pillow with ease, grinning like a madman. “Oh, Moony, you can’t escape this. You kissed her. The girl you’ve been pining over for ages.”

“I have not been pining,” Remus grumbled, reopening his book.

James scoffed. “Mate. You stare at her like she hung the bloody stars.”

Remus’ grip on the pages tightened. “I do not.”

Peter nodded enthusiastically. “You kinda do.”

“Definitely,” Sirius agreed. “It’s disgusting, really.” He sighed dramatically. “Our poor, lovesick Moony. All doe-eyed and smitten.”

James smirked. “I bet he’s still thinking about it.”

“I am not—” Remus started, but unfortunately, his traitorous brain chose that exact moment to betray him.

The way you had looked at him before he kissed you—soft and certain, as if you’d been waiting for it. The warmth of your hands in his hair, the way you sighed against his lips. The little, breathless laugh after, teasing but affectionate—

Merlin.

He was smiling.

James let out a gasp. “HE’S THINKING ABOUT IT!”

Sirius groaned. “Ugh, he definitely is. Look at that stupid grin.”

Peter tilted his head. “Kind of sweet, though.”

Remus snapped his book shut again, face burning. “That’s enough out of all of you.”

James waggled his eyebrows. “But Moony, you haven’t told us the best part yet.”

Remus sighed, rubbing his temples. “I swear, Prongs, if you—”

James ignored him completely. “Was there tongue?”

Sirius collapsed in laughter. Peter’s eyes widened.

Remus ran his fingers through his hair, messing it up a bit. "No, i refuse to answer this"

“Aw, come on, Moony, we’re just asking questions!” Sirius teased. “It’s not every day our favorite bookish werewolf finally mans up and kisses the girl.”

Remus groaned . “I regret everything.”

“You regret nothing,” James corrected. “Because you kissed her, and you liked it.”

Remus sighed, lifting his head to glare at them. “Are you quite done?”

Sirius smirked. “That depends. When are you kissing her again?”

James caught the way Remus hesitated. “Ohhh. You’re already thinking about it.”

Peter beamed. “That means you really like her!”

“I always liked her,” Remus muttered, running a hand through his hair. “That’s the problem.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “Moony, that’s not a problem. That’s called having feelings. Normal people have them. You just happen to be terrible at handling yours.”

James clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll figure it out, mate. And when you do, you can count on us to be right here—”

“—Mocking you every step of the way,” Sirius finished with a grin.

Remus sighed. “Of course you will.”

And despite himself—despite the teasing, despite the embarrassment—he smiled.

Because, honestly?

He didn’t regret a thing.

Not a single thing.

Not ashamed.

The sun was shining lazily over the courtyard, the soft hum of students chatting filling the air. James, Sirius, Peter, Lily, and you were all sitting together on the grass, laughing over some ridiculous story Sirius was telling.

"And then," Sirius continued, eyes glinting mischievously, "James actually tried to flirt with McGonagall—"

"It was a dare!" James interrupted, looking indignant.

"You told her her animagus form was the most beautiful feline you’d ever seen," Peter wheezed, clutching his stomach from laughing so hard.

Lily rolled her eyes but couldn’t help grinning. "Honestly, I can’t believe I’m dating you."

James turned to her with a dazzling smile. "Well, Evans, you had the chance to resist, and yet—" He gestured between them smugly. "Here we are."

"Tragic, really," Lily sighed dramatically, leaning against him.

Just then, a familiar figure approached you.

Remus.

He looked more relaxed than usual, a soft, sleepy expression on his face, as if he had just woken up from a nap. His light brown hair was slightly tousled from the wind, and there was something undeniably warm about him as he made his way toward you.

Without hesitation, he let his arm slip around your waist, pulling you closer. The action was so easy, so natural, that it didn’t even seem like something he had thought twice about.

It was progress.

You turned your head slightly and pressed a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips. It was instinctive now—like second nature.

That was enough for the group to lose their minds.

"OH, COME ON!" James practically shouted, throwing his hands in the air.

"RIGHT IN FRONT OF US?!" Sirius added dramatically, placing a hand over his heart as if he were personally offended.

Peter was giggling like a child. "Did you see that? He just—he just walked in and—Merlin’s beard, Moony’s unstoppable!"

Lily, ever the voice of reason, simply smirked. "Well, it was adorable," she said matter-of-factly. "And you lot are just jealous."

"Jealous? Jealous?!" James scoffed, looking at Remus with exaggerated betrayal. "Moony, you used to be the quiet, nervous one! My reliable, awkward mate! And now—now you’re just kissing your girl like it’s the most casual thing in the world!"

Sirius nudged him, grinning. "Not so awkward anymore, huh?"

Remus, who had been unfazed until now, simply shrugged. "I don’t see the issue," he said, voice calm and composed, though the slight pink dusting his cheeks betrayed him.

James pointed aggressively. "THERE. THERE IT IS."

"What?"

"That confidence! Who are you? What have you done with my shy, self-deprecating friend?!"

You laughed, leaning slightly into Remus’s side. "You really didn’t expect me to have this effect on him?"

Sirius snorted. "Oh, no, we definitely expected it. We just didn’t think he’d embrace it so well."

Remus huffed a laugh, shaking his head. "You lot are insufferable."

"But you love us," Peter said with a grin.

Remus glanced at you, a small, private smile playing on his lips. Then, ever so casually, he kissed the side of your head.

The group erupted.

"OH, THAT’S IT! HE’S GONE! WE’VE LOST HIM!" James groaned, pretending to fall back onto the grass.

"I love this version of Moony," Sirius declared, clapping Remus on the shoulder. "Look at you. All affectionate and in love."

Lily nudged James. "We should take notes, really. They’re disgustingly adorable."

James raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me, Evans, we’re the epitome of romance. Our dynamic is legendary."

She hummed. "Mm, sure, Potter. Keep telling yourself that."

Remus made a noise somewhere between a groan and a laugh, looking absolutely mortified.

You, on the other hand, was clearly enjoying his suffering. "You could just let go of me if it’s so embarrassing," you teased.

Remus immediately shook his head. "No. I—I’m fine."

James and Sirius exchanged knowing looks.

You leaned in slightly, voice quieter now, just for him. "You’re getting used to it, aren’t you?"

Remus exhaled slowly, trying to will away the heat in his face. "I think so."

You smiled, letting your fingers brush lightly against his wrist. "Good."

And despite the relentless teasing, despite his bright red face, despite the fact that he was very much not used to being this open with affection—Remus found himself not minding at all.

Because you were worth it.

Every single second of it.

Say it again.

The days passed, and something changed—something small but noticeable.

Remus was getting used to all of it. The way you would lean into his side, the way you’d lace your fingers together absentmindedly, the way you would press quick kisses to his cheek when he was deep in a book. At first, it had flustered him beyond words, but now? Now he just expected it.

And he had started to return it, in his own soft, hesitant way.

It was late afternoon, and you were tucked away in your usual spot beneath the large oak tree by the Black Lake. You had your legs stretched out over his lap, flipping through a book, while he absentmindedly ran his fingers over the fabric of your sleeve.

“Rem,” you called suddenly, looking up from your book.

“Mhm?”

“I have a very important question,” you said seriously, closing the book and resting it on your stomach.

Remus quirked an eyebrow, already amused. “Alright. Let’s hear it.”

You took a dramatic breath. “If you had to fight one of the Marauders in a duel, life or death, who would you pick?”

Remus snorted. “That’s your important question?”

“Yes, and you have to answer.”

He hummed, pretending to think it over. “Peter.”

You gasped. “Poor Peter!”

Remus just smirked. “He’d understand. It’s about survival, love.”

And just like that—your entire expression lit up.

It took him half a second to realize what had just come out of his mouth.

His eyes widened slightly.

Oh.

Oh, bloody hell.

He hadn’t meant to say it. It had just… slipped.

But before he could even begin to panic, you were already beaming at him, eyes shining with something soft and excited.

"What did you just call me?" You asked, your voice teasing but also way too happy.

Remus groaned, tilting his head back against the tree. "Nothing."

You poked his side. "Not nothing. Say it again."

"No."

You sat up straight, moving closer, your knees pressing against his thigh. “Remus.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, but he couldn’t stop the small smile forming at the corner of his lips. "I didn’t even mean to say it."

"But you did," you pointed out, eyes twinkling. "And I liked it."

That made him pause. He hesitated. “You... do?”

You nodded eagerly, practically radiating happiness. “Call me that again.”

Remus let out a breath, glancing away like he was debating it. But when he looked back at you—so earnest, so full of joy over something so simple—he found himself softening completely.

“Alright, love,” he said quietly, barely above a whisper.

And you immediately cupped his face and kissed him.

Remus froze for half a second before he melted into it, his hands finding their way to your waist instinctively. Your lips were warm, soft, and you kissed him with so much affection that it made his head spin.

When you finally pulled back, you were still grinning. “I’m keeping that one.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you like me.”

His lips twitched. “Yeah. I suppose I do.”

You gave him another small, quick peck on his lips, squeezing his face. "Good. Because you’re stuck with me now, love."

And this time—this time, he was the one beaming.

“So,” you drawled, leaning into his side with a smug little smirk, “was that your grand confession, then? Calling me love in the middle of planning Peter’s hypothetical demise?”

Remus groaned, tipping his head back against the tree. “If I say yes, will you stop bringing it up?”

“Not a chance, love”

He sighed, rubbing his face, but there was no real frustration behind it. Just warmth—something that curled deep in his chest and refused to leave.

You tilted your head, watching him with that knowing glint in your eyes. “You know, if you wanted to confess properly, you could just say—”

Remus cut you off with a kiss, his fingers slipping into your hair as he pulled you closer. He could feel your surprised inhale against his lips, but you recovered quickly, smiling into the kiss as your hands curled into the front of his sweater.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead resting against yours, he huffed out a quiet laugh. “Happy now?”

You blinked up at him, dazed but delighted. “I mean… yeah. But now I think you just like kissing me.”

Remus smirked. “Maybe I do.”

Your grin was immediate. “Well, well, well. Looks like someone is getting bolder.”

He rolled his eyes, but you could feel the way his fingers tightened ever so slightly on your waist. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, here you are. Kissing me. Calling me love.” you nudged his nose with yours, your voice teasing but soft. “Admit it, Rem. You’re completely smitten.”

Remus exhaled through his nose, shaking his head. “Merlin help me.”

“Oh, come on,” you pressed. “Say it. Say, ‘I, Remus Lupin, am completely—’”

Remus shut you up with another kiss. Longer this time, slower. Enough to wipe that teasing little smirk right off your face.

By the time he pulled away, you were breathless.

“Alright,” you mumbled, still a little dazed. “That’s a very unfair way to win an argument.”

Remus just grinned. “But effective.”

You huffed, trying and failing to look unimpressed. “I’m onto you, Remus”

“Good,” he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Wouldn’t want you missing anything.”

You sighed dramatically, settling back into his side. “You really like me.”

Remus chuckled, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, love” he admitted quietly. “I really do.”

And maybe, just maybe, he was okay with that.

An unofficial couple.

Time passed, and it was obvious to everyone—even if neither of you had officially said anything—that you acted like a couple.

Remus had gotten used to your presence in his life, in his space, in his arms. It was natural now, the way you fit into him like you belonged there.

It was late one evening in the library. Most students had already cleared out, leaving only a few scattered at desks. You sat cross-legged on the floor, a book open on your lap, and Remus stretched out beside you, his head resting on your thigh.

You absentmindedly ran your fingers through his hair as you read, and he sighed softly, melting into your touch.

“You’re ridiculously comfortable,” Remus muttered, eyes closed.

You smirked. “You say that like you didn’t voluntarily make me your pillow.”

“Mhm,” he hummed sleepily. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

You laughed, flipping a page. “You do realize that if James or Sirius saw you like this, you’d never hear the end of it?”

Remus cracked an eye open. “I’m aware, darling.”

“And yet, here you are.”

He reached up lazily, catching your free hand and intertwining your fingers. “What can I say? I like being comfortable.”

You squeezed his hand, grinning. “You like me.”

Remus groaned dramatically, covering his face with his arm. “And you like reminding me.”

“Because it’s cute,” you teased, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

His face went pink, but he didn’t move away. “You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re cute when you’re flustered.”

Remus just grumbled something under his breath but didn’t let go of your hand.

You stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in warmth and quiet laughter.

As the library started to empty completely, a soft hush settled around you. You continued reading, your fingers still idly playing with Remus’s hair, and he let himself relax entirely, eyes shut, listening to the gentle cadence of your voice as you quietly narrated a passage.

“You know,” you murmured after a while, shifting slightly beneath him, “I’m starting to think you only keep me around for free head massages.”

Remus huffed a laugh, cracking an eye open to look up at you. “That’s absolutely not true.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really?”

He smirked lazily. “You’re also very warm.”

You gasped in mock offense, shoving his shoulder lightly. “Unbelievable. I knew it.”

Still grinning, Remus caught your hand before you could pull away and laced your fingers together again. “Alright, alright. Maybe I also keep you around because you’re nice to look at.”

That made you pause. You blinked down at him, surprised, and Remus only realized what he’d said when he saw the teasing sparkle in your eyes.

“Oh?” you grinned. “So you do like looking at me?”

His face went bright red. “That’s not—”

“Oh, no, no,” you interrupted, clearly enjoying this. “Please, do go on. What exactly do you like looking at?”

Remus groaned, covering his face with his free hand. “Merlin, why do I even speak?”

You laughed, shifting to press a kiss to his cheek. “I like looking at you, too, you know.”

His breath hitched slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

The moment lingered, softer now, a quiet warmth settling between them.

Then, you glanced at the library clock. “We should probably go before Madam Pince throws us out.”

Remus sighed dramatically, still not making any effort to move. “But getting up requires effort.”

You rolled your eyes, but there was fondness in your smile. “Fine. You can stay there. But I’m leaving.”

You made a move to stand up, but Remus instinctively tightened his grip on your hand, stopping you.

“…Wait.”

You tilted your head, amused. “Yes?”

“…Five more minutes?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Remus Lupin, you are the clingiest person I’ve ever met.”

Remus groaned. “Don’t say it like that.”

“I’m not complaining, love”

“…You better not be.”

You just smiled, pressing another soft kiss to his forehead. “Fine. Five more minutes.”

And Remus, despite knowing the teasing he’d get from James and Sirius later, let himself stay.

The five minutes turned into ten. Then fifteen. Neither of you seemed in any rush to leave, wrapped up in the quiet comfort of each other’s presence.

Remus was now seated by your side, head on your shoulders, reading whatever was that you were reading.

Remus sighed contentedly, eyes still shut as you continued running your fingers through his hair. The feeling was addicting—soothing in a way he never realized he needed.

“You’re going to fall asleep on me,” you whispered, amused.

“Would that be such a bad thing?” he murmured, barely opening his eyes.

You hummed, considering. “Not at all.” your voice was softer now, almost thoughtful. “I like being close to you.”

Remus opened his eyes fully this time, tilting his head to look at you. Something in your expression made his heart stutter—you looked peaceful, content, but there was something else, something gentle and adoring in the way you gazed down at him.

His fingers curled slightly around yours. “I like being close to you too,” he admitted, voice quiet but certain.

A small, pleased smile tugged at your lips. “Good,” you whispered.

You leaned before he could think too much about it, pressing the softest kiss to the corner of his mouth. It was barely there, just a whisper of a touch, but it sent warmth flooding through him all the same.

Remus barely had time to react before you pressed another kiss, this time fully on his lips. Slow, lingering, infinitely tender.

His breath caught, his free hand coming to gently rest at your waist, as if grounding himself in the moment. You kissed him like you had all the time in the world—like he was something precious, something worth savoring.

And, Merlin help him, he wanted to stay in this moment forever.

When you finally pulled back, your forehead resting against his, he could still feel the ghost of your smile against his lips.

“I think I might be in trouble,” he whispered, voice dazed.

You let out a soft laugh, brushing your nose against his. “Why’s that?”

Remus swallowed, searching for words, but all he could focus on was the way you were looking at him. Like he was something worth holding onto.

“…Because I don’t think I’ll ever want to let go,” he admitted, voice barely above a breath.

You exhaled softly, your fingers gently tracing the back of his hand. “Then don’t,” she murmured simply.

And with that, you kissed him again, and Remus knew—without a doubt—he never would.

Tracing scars.

The common room was quiet, lit only by the soft glow of the fireplace. Most students had gone to bed, leaving just the two of you curled up together on the couch. You were tucked against his side, your fingers idly tracing circles on the back of his hand as he held it in his lap.

Remus sighed contentedly, watching the fire flicker, feeling utterly at peace. These moments with you—these quiet, comfortable spaces where he didn’t have to be anything but himself—meant more to him than he could ever put into words.

“You’re staring again,” you murmured, tilting your head up to look at him with a small smile.

Remus huffed a soft laugh, his fingers brushing gently through your hair. “Can you blame me?”

You rolled your eyes playfully but didn’t argue, instead shifting closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

Your fingers traced up his arm absentmindedly, skimming over the fabric of his sweater before moving to his jawline, where they brushed over the scar that ran across his face.

He stiffened slightly, always unprepared for the way you didn’t recoil. How you didn’t flinch or hesitate. How you touched his scars like they were just part of him—nothing to be ashamed of.

You had done this before, and each time, it left him torn between wanting to lean into your touch or run away.

Your thumb traced the scar slowly. “I love this one,” you murmured.

Remus swallowed. “You what?”

You smiled, shifting so you could look him properly in the eyes. “I love it. It makes you look… strong. And distinguished. And incredibly handsome.”

His face went bright red. “Merlin, you can’t just say things like that.”

You laughed, pressing your lips to the scar in question. “I just did.”

Remus sucked in a breath, heart doing ridiculous flips in his chest. “Dove…”

You beamed at the pet name, and Remus found himself smiling helplessly. It had started as something he’d said without thinking, but now, he couldn’t stop. It just fit you so well.

You kissed along the scar, trailing soft pecks down his jaw, your lips unbearably gentle. Remus melted under your touch, torn between letting you continue and pulling away before he completely lost himself.

His hand found its way into your hair, fingers weaving through the strands as he let out a breathy chuckle. “You really like doing that, don’t you?”

You hummed. “Mm-hmm. I like all of them.”

Remus swallowed hard. “You shouldn’t.”

You frowned slightly, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “Why not?”

“…Because they’re ugly.” His voice was quiet, but there was an undeniable sadness behind it.

Your expression softened, your hand coming up to cradle his cheek as you held his gaze. "Remus," you whispered, your voice full of warmth, of certainty. "They’re not ugly. Not to me."

His breath hitched, his grip on your tightening just slightly as he struggled to find the right words. He wasn’t used to this—to someone looking at him like he was worth something more than his scars, more than his condition.

You traced his jawline again, slower this time, like you were memorizing every inch of him. "They tell a story," you continued, your fingers brushing over the faded lines with reverence. "They tell your story. And I love every part of it. Every part of you."

Remus felt something in his chest tighten—something raw and fragile, something he wasn’t sure how to hold without breaking. He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a shaky breath, before pressing his forehead to yours.

"You make it so bloody difficult to keep my head straight," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, nudging your nose against his. "Then stop trying so hard."

And then you kissed him. Slow and tender, like you had all the time in the world. Like you were trying to prove your words with every brush of your lips against his.

Remus melted instantly, his hand coming up to cup the back of your neck as he kissed you back, his heart pounding so hard he was sure you could feel it. You shifted, pressing closer, your arms wrapping around him as if you never wanted to let go.

He let himself sink into it, let himself believe—just for a moment—that maybe, just maybe, he was allowed to have this. To have you.

When they finally pulled apart, you stayed close, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck as you gazed up at him with so much love it made his chest ache.

"Do you believe me now?" You whispered.

Remus exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing over your cheek. He still wasn’t sure he deserved it, but looking at you now, at the sheer certainty in your eyes, he knew one thing for certain.

"I’m trying," he murmured.

You smiled, pressing one last lingering kiss to his lips. "Good. Because I’m not going anywhere."

And for the first time in a long, long while, Remus let himself believe that was true.

Returning favours.

The days passed, and Remus couldn’t help but notice how busy you had been lately. It wasn’t unusual for you to spend time in the hospital wing—you always loved helping Madam Pomfrey—but now, it was excessive. You would disappear for hours, only to reappear looking even more exhausted than before. When you weren’t in the hospital wing, you were in your dorm, completely absorbed in whatever you were working on, books scattered around you like a fortress.

And the strangest part? You weren’t telling him what you were up to.

Remus didn’t like to pry. He never pushed people to talk about things they weren’t ready to share. You hadn’t pushed him when you first found out about his condition, hadn’t demanded answers or treated him any differently. You had just stayed—and he would do the same for you.

Still, he couldn’t ignore the exhaustion in your eyes.

Remus had caught you dozing off during class more than once, your head resting on your folded arms. You had been asking him strange, specific questions lately, too.

“So… when you transform, do you still recognize people?”

Remus had blinked at you. “No. Not at all. Why?”

You had shrugged, writing something down in your notes. “Just curious.”

Another time:

“Do you think—hypothetically—a potion could help you keep your mind during the full moon?”

Remus had tilted his head. “Hypothetically?”

“Yeah.”

He had chuckled. “Hypothetically, maybe… but there’s never been a potion like that.”

You had hummed thoughtfully, scribbling more notes.

Remus wasn’t an idiot. He knew you were up to something. But if you wanted to tell him, you would.

You weren’t sleeping. You weren’t eating properly. You were so caught up in whatever you were doing that you were completely neglecting yourself.

It reminded him of how you took care of him after every full moon—staying up all night, watching over him, tending to his wounds. But now, you were the one who needed looking after.

And Remus wasn’t about to let you fall apart.

He found you in the common room late that evening, curled up in the corner of the couch, a book open on your lap. You were trying to study, but your head kept dipping forward, your eyes fluttering shut before snapping open again.

Remus sighed, sitting down beside you. “Dove.”

You hummed absentmindedly, not looking up. “Mm?”

“You’re exhausted.”

“I’m fine.”

Remus reached forward, gently shutting the book in your lap. “No, you’re not.”

You finally looked at him, your lips parting as if you were about to protest. But you saw the concern in his eyes—the way he was watching you so carefully, so gently—and you let out a small sigh instead. “I just have a lot to do.”

“You always have a lot to do,” Remus said softly. “But you can’t pour from an empty cup, love.”

You blinked at the pet name, a small smile tugging at your lips. “That’s a very poetic way of telling me I look like death.”

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. “You don’t look like death. But you do look like you’re about to pass out, and I’m not going to just sit here and watch it happen.”

You groaned, rubbing your temples. “I can’t rest yet, Remus. I still need to—”

“You need to sleep.”

“But—”

“No buts,” he interrupted, shifting closer. “Come here.”

You hesitated for a moment before Remus reached out, gently tugging you towards him. You let out a small huff, but you didn’t resist, letting yourself be pulled into his arms.

Remus adjusted you so that you were nestled against his chest, your legs draped over his lap. His hand came up to the back of your head, fingers weaving into your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

“There,” he murmured. “That’s better.”

You let out a small sigh, your body slowly relaxing against his. “…You’re being very affectionate today.”

Remus hummed. “You always take care of me, darling. Let me take care of you for once.”

You smiled softly, burying your face against his neck. “I like when you’re like this.”

“Like what?”

“Soft.”

Remus huffed a quiet laugh, resting his chin on top of your head. “I’m always soft with you.”

You sighed, closing your eyes. “It’s nice.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a while, Remus rubbing small circles on your back. He could feel your breathing even out, your body sinking further into his hold.

“Dove?” he murmured after a while.

“Mhm?”

“You haven’t eaten much today either.”

You groaned. “Remus—”

“No arguing,” he cut in, a teasing lilt in his voice. “If you’re going to be this stubborn, I’ll just have to feed you myself.”

You snorted. “I’d love to see you try.”

Remus smirked. “Don’t tempt me.”

You lifted your head slightly to meet his gaze, your eyes soft but amused. “You really care, huh?”

Remus brushed a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “Of course, I do.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and your leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw.

Remus melted. He always did.

You let out a content sigh, your fingers lazily tracing patterns on his chest. “Alright, alright. I’ll eat something. And I’ll sleep.”

Remus grinned. “Good girl.”

You swatted his arm playfully, but you were smiling.

And as Remus held you close, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing, he felt something settle inside of him—something warm, something safe.

Maybe he had spent so much of his life believing that he didn’t deserve this kind of tenderness. But with you in his arms, he was beginning to think that maybe… just maybe… he did.

—— 🌙 ——

A note from the author:

Hello lovelies!

They are finally being a disgustingly cute couple!

A little spoiler for the next chapter: It's gonna be Remus' turn to take care of her as much as she took care of him!

Did you notice that she is brewing a Wolfsbane potion? It is a very difficult one, and she's doing it all for him!

Hope you guys are liking it! Each of your comments makes me smile. 🤍

See you soon!

Taglist: @iloveremmy @jjamjamie @breakawayfromeveryday @oursweetmoony @whimsical-mistakes @froggiedragon @sophie-0012 @deathmybride @nerdbirdsworld @wolfstarsprongs @mischievousmoony @httpvomitello @msfandomsblog @starofthedawn @malenk @diiyaa @theonyxstate @waitforiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit @theredvelvetbitch @ohheyitsrowan @a1ienmush @michtellch @ill-be-okay-soon-enough (If you want to be tagged, let me know!)

[luxcuriousao3]

Fevered Mistakes

Summary: Ghost, a formidable Alpha, is captured and dosed with rut inducers. You are the omega he's tossed into a cell with. WC: 3429 Warnings: a/b/o, graphic nonconsensual sex, nonconsensual drugging, unprotected PIV sex, referenced torture/experimentation, blood, vomit, death, hurt no comfort, background ghoap, POV switches denoted by triple asterisks (***) Notes: Based off the first half of this post that I made a bit ago. Ngl, I don't really like how this one turned out, but y'all were begging for it so, so I feel bad just letting it rot in my google docs lol. There are two scrapped versions of a second chapter that would make this fic farrrrr less angsty, but idk if I'm ever gonna continue this, so I'm treating this like it's a one-shot with the warnings. If I ever do post a continuation, it will be linked on my masterlist, so you can check for it there. And hey, maybe if y'all share your thoughts about this in my inbox or whatever, it might entice the brainworms again lol. Taglist: @captainsherlockwinchester110283

There was a girl in the cell.

She was small and soft in the way that almost all omegas were, though it was her scent that really gave her status away. Sweet and alluring but soured by fear, it invaded his nostrils and made him all the more dazed. The blow to his head, the one that had landed him in this situation, would have been hard enough to kill him, had he not been an Alpha.

He’d been sloppy. Let his feelings for Johnny get in the way of procedure. But seeing his beta, laid out on the floor, bleeding from his head, still as a corpse… he couldn’t have controlled himself if he tried. And at that point, he hadn’t wanted to try.

He’d gotten distracted, and he’d paid the price.

It had been three days since he'd been captured, by his best estimate. It was hard to measure, between the head injury and being kept in a room with no windows. All he had to go off of was how often someone came in to torture him for information. He never gave any up, of course. Even compromised, he never would. He'd been trained far better than that.

Still, he wasn’t in very good shape. Beaten to hell and back, his head scrambled… his feet dragged uselessly as he was pressed up against the bars, one of his captors unlocking the cuffs on his wrists while the other two kept him restrained. The fourth jammed a syringe into his neck, injecting him with some unknown substance. Ghost tried to break free, to throw a punch or a kick, anything, but his reflexes were sluggish, his thoughts painfully slow. All he succeeded in doing was annoying them, and he got an elbow to the back of his neck for the trouble.

He was no omega, couldn’t be immobilized by a simple scruffing, but fuck if that shit didn’t still hurt like a bitch. He collapsed to the concrete floor of the cell with an animalistic howl, and the sourness in the omega’s scent spiked, her heart rate speeding up. Ghost couldn’t find it in himself to care—the very last of rational thought was beginning to abandon him as the pain spread from the back of his neck throughout his entire body, growing unbearable as it reached his groin. He felt like there was fire raging just beneath his skin, and his senses sharpened as his dark gaze locked onto the wide-eyed omega curled up in the corner, neck cracking unsettlingly with the speed at which he turned. He had time for only one more thought before instincts took over, his heart dropping out his arse as dread turned the blood in his veins to ice before it began to boil all over again.

Rut inducers.

***

When you woke up, you were escorted to the cell in which you spend your heats. That confused you, since your next heat wasn’t supposed to be for another month at least.

It also terrified you.

Though you didn’t remember much of what happened during your heats, you did remember the pain. The desperate, burning need for an Alpha’s knot, and the aching, gaping emptiness when you were denied it, the only thing that could bring you any relief. This cell held nothing but bad memories, and you didn’t want to be anywhere near it.

But you had no choice. For as long as you could remember, you did as you were told, the way a good omega should. In your sleep, you thought maybe you saw glimpses of a time when things were different, when there were no scientists in white coats and men and women in military uniforms controlling your life. But you knew those were just dreams. None of it was real.

You sat on the thin mattress in the cold, dank cell for hours before something finally happened that could explain why you were there. A man was brought in—massive and with a terrifying skull mask on his face—and you barely had to take a whiff of him as he was shoved into your cell with you to know that he was an Alpha. There was that familiar smell of damp, scorched earth after a lightning strike, and you knew from the intensity of it that he was angry. No, not just angry. Furious. The very air reeked of electricity and burning plastic, overwhelming any hint of his natural scent. This was an Alpha that was ready to rip, rend, tear, kill. And you were stuck alone in a cell with him.

“Не сопротивляйтесь,” one of the uniformed men told you, expression entirely unsympathetic. It was almost worse than the look of sadistic, scientific glee on the face of the white coat next to him. “Ты сделаешь только хуже.”

Don’t fight back. You’ll only make it worse.

Your eyes widened, and you barely had a chance to shake your head before the unfamiliar Alpha was on you, grabbing your ankle in a brutal grip and dragging you away from the corner you’d curled up in. You screamed in pain as you felt the bone snap like a twig under his large palm, instinctively hitting your hands against his broad chest as you tried to fight him off. If you had been in heat, you wouldn’t have cared, wouldn’t have even felt the pain from him breaking you, would have spread your legs and begged him to knot you. But you weren’t, and so your survival instincts overtook those of your omega. You knew you would be punished later for disobeying, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Anything was better than being knotted by the feral Alpha on top of you. He would maul you to death while he fucked you, you just knew it.

The Alpha grabbed your wrists in one hand, pinning them above your head. The other ripped your shirt off, causing your back to arch and your tits to spill out of your bra. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling deeply and letting out a satisfied growl. You tried to headbutt him, and he snarled in your face, wrapping a hand around your throat and squeezing tight enough to make your vision go black around the edges in less than ten seconds. By the time you caught your breath and were able to think again, his hands were busy yanking down your pants and underwear in one harsh tug. You let out a hoarse shriek of fear, flipping onto your belly to try and crawl away, ignoring the searing pain in your shattered ankle. But that was your fatal mistake. His beefy palm met the back of your neck, fingers digging in as he lifted you slightly by it, his other hand coming around to roughly grope your breasts.

And you stopped.

You stopped moving, stopped screaming, you nearly stopped breathing. You were limp as a ragdoll as he scruffed you, utterly and completely paralyzed. You could do nothing but take it as he shoved your face into the dirty concrete, pried your legs apart, and forced himself inside you. You could feel the agonizing pain as his cock practically tore you in half, could feel the ice cold fear freezing every cell of your body, could feel his blunt nails digging into the ultra-sensitive skin of your nape. You could feel everything. But you couldn’t do anything to stop it.

It seemed to go on forever, and yet take no time at all. One second, you were pliant and supine beneath the Alpha as he pounded into you, his weight constricting your lungs and making it difficult to breathe. The next, the restrictive grip on your neck was gone, replaced by a sharp pain at the junction of it and your shoulder as his teeth sunk into your flesh. Into your mating gland. Your own screams were echoing in the tiny cell, now, no longer confined to your head.

“M’sorry, M’sorry, M’sorry,” a rough, wet voice chanted in your ear. It was the Alpha, speaking to you in English. You could understand it, even if you couldn't speak it. He was still on top of you, still inside you, his knot stretching you far beyond your limits. And yet he was… apologizing? You stopped screaming in your confusion, the terrified screeching replaced by the sound of your heaving sobs.

“M’sorry, M’so sorry, they dosed me, M’sorry,” the Alpha continued, voice slurred. You struggled to focus on his words, distracted by the liquid you could feel dripping down your thighs. It was probably blood, you realized distantly. His knot wouldn’t have let any of his seed escape. That’s what it was there for.

That, and to keep you from running.

The Alpha’s voice grew more and more gravelly as his knot began to deflate, his apologies interrupted by grunts as he began to move his hips again, thrusting in and out of you shallowly. You whined, clawing at the floor, trying to wriggle free, but he just settled nearly his entire weight on top of you.

“Don’ fight,” he growled, and you could tell from the strain in his voice that he was at least trying to resist his instincts. It didn’t make you feel any better, especially not when his fingers inched closer and closer to your nape again. “Don’t, or m’gonna have to— fuck, I don’t— fuckin’ be a good omega an’ take it— m’sorry, fuck— don’t fuckin’ fight me—”

You were still sobbing, shrieking like a dying thing with every quick, brutal snap of his hips against yours. Too out of it from being scruffed, you missed the warning in his jumbled plea threat, continuing to struggle underneath him. You felt your ribs crack as he pressed the rest of his considerable weight onto you, and the strangled, stuttering gasp that left your throat was the kind of sound that belonged in a horror film.

The Alpha seemed to think so too, as he moaned in a horrid mixture of pleasure and abject misery before he scruffed you again. You went still, once more trapped in your own body. It was the worst sensation you’d ever felt, worse than the experiments the white coats ran on you, worse than your punishments, worse than your heats spent alone. Worse than the shattered ankle or broken ribs, worse even than the feeling of him ripping you apart from the inside. You were always helpless and vulnerable, being an omega, but this… when you were scruffed, you were no longer a person. You were just an object, to be used as your Alpha saw fit.

Your Alpha.

The man on top of you—who was knotting you for the second time now—was your Alpha. He’d claimed you, the pain in your shoulder was proof of that. You would wear his mark forever, now. You would belong to him for the rest of your life.

You prayed that it was short.

Your Alpha released his painful grip on your nape again, but you didn’t try to get away this time. You were far too disoriented. Being scruffed once was bad enough, but twice in as many minutes? You could easily go into shock from that. You probably were in shock, but you didn't panic, feeling too distant and floaty. The ice in your veins was numbing you from the inside. That was nice… you leaned into it, letting your blankly staring eyes flutter shut—

“Omega!”

Your eyes snapped back open and you whimpered, trying to curl in on yourself. That only caused pain to flare up all over your body, the burning between your legs as you tugged on his knot pulling another scream from you.

“Stay still,” the same harsh voice ordered, and your instincts forced you to obey. The command was a little more collected this time, a little more coherent, even if he was still groaning and slurring.

“Don' move,” your Alpha panted, each word sounding like it was dragged out of him. He started to fuck you once more. “Don’— don’ wanna scruff you ‘gain.”

You didn’t have it in you to be grateful. Didn’t have it in you to be sympathetic to his situation either, not while he was still rutting into you like an animal.

They dosed me, he’d said. You wished they’d dosed you. At least then you wouldn't feel the pain…

***

Simon had never hated being an Alpha more than in that moment.

Bollocks deep in a pretty little omega, one already stuffed full of his come and wearing his mark… he wished fervently that this was just another of his nightmares, the ones that stuck with him like a bad smell even after escaping Roba.

Between the disorientation from his forced rut and the nasty head injury, he almost let himself believe that it was. If it was a dream, he could give in, and he wouldn’t actually be hurting anyone. He could just ride it out, come in trousers wherever he was sleeping, and hopefully, it would end faster.

But her screams were far too real.

She wailed like she was being flayed alive as she struggled underneath him, and his Alpha—after being denied a partner for his ruts for over a decade—was brutal and swift in its response. Scruffing her like a scrappy mutt, growling in pleasure at the way she submitted to him—the way she was forced to submit to him.

It was nearly impossible to think around how fucked his head was—by instinct and injury both—but after he'd knotted her for the second time, he was able to act a little more like the trained soldier he was, and not like a panicked civvie.

He didn’t argue with himself any longer. He accepted the reality of the situation as it was. He was in rut. He was trapped with an omega. He had brutalized and claimed her. If he kept focusing on trying to stop himself altogether, he was going to kill her. He needed to give up on that and instead just try to minimize the damage.

Starting with stopping her from going into shock, and then stopping her from fighting back. It only made his Alpha all the more eager to dominate her—by any means necessary.

It sickened Simon that that part of him existed. Deep down, he feared that it always had. That Roba hadn’t created it, back in the desert. That he’d just unearthed it. All of Simon’s evilness, all his wicked desires…

It was why he’d never taken an omega before. Never even let himself date one, back when that was something he did.

Johnny was perfect, in that way. In many ways, really, but him being a beta—it soothed Simon’s fears. The fears that were being proved true.

He didn’t know how long passed before the rut inducers wore off. It had to have been hours. The omega—his omega—was still facedown on the ground when he pulled out of her for the last time. She was bleeding from where he’d bitten her, and where he’d bred her, his cock drenched in her blood, her own thighs stained with a mix of it and his come.

Simon threw up at the sight. He told himself it was just from the head injury.

He was naked, except for his mask, which was pushed up past his nose. He didn't remember taking off his trousers, though he recalled that his shirt had been cut to shreds the first day of his captivity by his torturer. He didn’t remember a lot of his mini-rut, as was common when it was induced. But the evidence of what he’d done was right in front of him. The omega—not mine, not my omega, not mine—was clad in nothing but the scraps of her clothes. Her side, hips, wrists, and the back of her neck were bruised. Her ankle was bent at a funny angle. A small patch of hair near her nape was missing, leaving her scalp red and raw. Simon looked at his hands, and found the strands woven between his fingers.

She didn’t move.

Simon pulled his mask into position and Ghost took over. He moved towards the girl, feeling for a pulse. She flinched violently when he touched her neck, and he felt relief—and guilt—reverberate through him. Ghost was good at ignoring his feelings, though.

“S’over,” he told her, voice gruff. “S’done now. Promise.”

The omega didn’t acknowledge his words, just kept her shoulders tucked up by her ears, guarding her neck. Ghost didn't protest, simply felt along her spine for any breaks. He didn’t find any, so he carefully rolled her over.

Her breasts were red and raw, nipples bleeding from being scraped back and forth across the floor. There was a hand shaped bruise around her throat, and petechiae in the whites of her glassy eyes. Ghost ignored his horror at the sight, and began to palpate her ribs. She inhaled sharply when he touched the eighth and ninth ones, a pitiful, pained whine escaping her.

The ribs were probably fractured, if not broken. The bruising above them was clue enough. There was another massive bruise low on her belly, and Ghost swore. Internal bleeding. He may have actually fucked this poor omega to death. There was no way she survived the night if she wasn't treated soon.

He got his pants and trousers on, hoping it would help her believe the worst was over, and then got to work doing what he could—wrapping her ribs with the dirty blanket in the corner, and holding the scraps of her shirt between her legs to try and stem the bleeding there. It wasn't enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He didn’t even know if it was really worth the discomfort it caused her—but he couldn't bring himself to just let her die. She was his omega.

Not mine, not mine, not mine.

He talked to her as she faded. Tried to keep her awake with the sound of his voice, though he knew it was probably the last thing she wanted to hear. He told her stories from his childhood—the few good ones there were—told her the plot of the last film he and Johnny had watched, told her about Johnny. That was the topic he lingered on the longest. It was far easier to talk about his beta than himself. And by the time her eyes slipped closed and her shallow breathing stopped, it was Simon that was holding her, not Ghost, despite the mask on his face.

It was Simon that watched her die.

It was Simon that realized he didn't even know her name.

And it was Simon that howled with grief and rage, clutching the broken body of the omega—my omega, my omega, mine—against his chest.

Footsteps rapidly approached the cell, and Simon snarled like a rabid animal as he turned towards the bars. He barely had a second to pull his omega—dead, dead, dead, she was mine and I killed her, she was innocent and I killed her—behind him before a familiar voice rang out. The only voice that could have possibly reached him in this state, that could stop him from giving into his instincts completely and going feral.

“Simon?”

“Johnny,” Simon growled, sounding desperate and broken. He felt broken. This little omega had managed to do what Roba and a hundred others had failed at. And she hadn't even tried.

“Let us help her, Si,” Johnny coaxed, moving closer while Price and Gaz hung back. Wise, because Simon could barely keep himself from baring his teeth at his own beta. Johnny didn't back down. “Si. Let us help her.”

Simon hesitated for a long moment, fighting his overwhelming instincts, before moving away. Johnny rushed in, immediately checking the omega’s pulse and starting compressions when he couldn’t find it. Simon tried to struggle to his feet, but he nearly fell over, Gaz and Price catching him. He snarled, weakly pulling away from them, but they held fast.

“We got you, soldier,” Price’s deep voice rumbled in his ear. “Stand down.”

Simon slumped, unable to hold himself up anymore, all his injuries catching up to him.

“I killed her,” he whispered raggedly, eyelids falling shut. He felt Gaz shake him to try and keep him awake, but he simply didn't have the willpower, anymore. “She was mine and I killed her.”

The mantra rang in his head even as he lost consciousness, and her screams of pain and the look of fear on her face as she lay dying followed him into his dreams.

-

less angsty ending

[murmiss]

Neglected Beta!Y/N And the bad pack! 141

Part 2

(Warning! not a little a few unpleasant descriptions, a description of the abduction,Mention of bullying , other traumatic moments , etc. In the end ,After all, this is angst,but with a good(?) ending,there may be mistakes in words-English is not my first language,the characters are adults, implied SA)

You're walking along the highway, and to the left and right there's a dark, terrible forest, and it seems that your death is about to leap out of the darkness, that every rustle of leaves and whiff of wind whispers about your imminent death, and only the rare passing cars give you a tiny, tiny hope that you'll live, that John is back, that Price is about to run out of the car and hug you, but reality cuts like a knife.

It's starting to rain, a nasty drizzle, and the humidity is making everything worse, and the fog is settling in and even the already sparse streetlights light the road even less.

Mommy said there were monsters lurking in the darkness.

Mommy said to be a good girl and not to walk at night.

A red old car stops in front of you and you stop as the headlights are almost blinding and illuminate you in this terrifying darkness. A slight smile, tired and exhausted, appears on your lips, but just as quickly disappears when you realize it's not Soap, or Price, or even a nice family willing to help.

Three men get out of the car. Your doom is coming to you, stepping on your heels, and you want to just run away, but the forest seems even more dense, you want to fall down and cry, asking for help, but hope is completely abandoned when the one who was the skinniest of them all, says in his hoarse voice: "Sit down with us, bunny, we'll take you for a ride".

Unconsciously you take a step back, you want to run away, but their disgusting hands pull you along, dragging you like a piece of meat, not caring about any moral qualities. They shove you in the back seat and don't even let you squeak.

Their hands touched everywhere, slipped under your thin sundress, and squeezed your legs as you drove and you couldn't even squeak in fear.

The big guy behind the wheel took your phone, and the one next to him was not shy about touching you.

The basement they dragged you into was cold, damp, and dark, lit only by a dim, flickering light bulb, and the stained old mattress was horrifying.

It's all right, Price will knock their teeth out! Your pack remembered you were gone long ago and are on their way anyway, they've pinpointed the location, they're gonna save you.

But will they?

"Damn, Soap, you're a hero.... Didn't think you'd pick up a couple finds"-said Gas, leaning forward to whisper to Soap.

When Johnny burst into the house with three hotties under his arm, no one even wondered "where's the beta?". Price frowned, but when the blonde winked playfully at him, the old man was lost and forgotten, and when the two girls jumped into his lap, he was ready to howl at the moon like a damn wolf.

Ghost, being ice cold, couldn't help but hold back a smile, noticing the colorful brunette with tattoos, and the soap smiled haughtily.

"Damn dog"-mumbled Ghost as the brunette that sat on his hip squirmed her hips on him, rousing him.

The clothes came off even before the drink ran out.

You sit on the mattress damp from the excessive dampness of the basement, hugging your knees with your arms, mentally waiting for the moment when your pack bursts into the basement. The door creaks open and you jump up reflexively, but only a tall, thin man with a yellow tan, a weird curly haircut and a bandage, dressed in a silly beach shirt and shorts walks into the basement. He hisses angrily, "idiots!" but as he gets closer he can't help but smile, mumbling, "okay, she's cute for a beta."

You head spins and everything moves apart under you feet as you head goes blank and vivid images flash before you eyes. You are just fire, you and only you on this stage, there is only you in this world.

You feel a touch on your shoulders, a soft stroking of your hair, and you turn, meeting Ghost's loving gaze. His eyes sparkle at the sight of you, and his mask is off. He's as handsome as you imagined him to be, and his hands reach for your face, pulling you in for a loving kiss before sliding gently down to your waist. You feel hot, with his kisses on your body and his smile, and everything around you shines with yellow light like heaven and you feel safe.

"I hope that girl doesn't fall off, asshole"-pahabic laughter echoes above you, but you don't hear it, don't understand. It's not Ghost whose caresses you feel.

You wake up on the mattress and wake up confusedly, horrified to find that.... You didn't want to-- To see. You didn't want to know! Oh, no, just no, please.

No clothes at all.

You start sobbing in despair, sobbing so loudly that one of the big guys comes down and through reluctance and anger, throws an old T-shirt at you when you beg for your clothes back.

It smells of one of them, smells of its captor, of dust and sweat, but you can do exactly nothing, just hastily putting it on to hide your body just a little.

The food showed up the next day. When the pot-bellied man brought a plate of leftovers from the chicken, a couple of whole chicken legs and a quarter of a tomato. That was all the food for the entire day.

When the main one of all came down to the basement to check on their victim, you asking with desperation : "can I go to the bathroom? ". You hope they'll take you upstairs and maybe like a cool lady you'll run away, but it all goes awry when he puts down an old rusty bucket.

"what's this? " you say, hoping you've misunderstood, but the man says with a sneer, "won't be stupid."

It was hard to wake up from sleep, and Price was the first to wake up. Climbing out of bed, he sighed heavily, but noticing a girl sprawled out on the bed without a blanket, he playfully slapped her ass before laughing playfully as he stood up.Grabbing his phone from the counter, he first checked all the calls, and noticing the new ones, he snorted incomprehensibly as he scrolled through the messages. Why was the beta calling them, and what the hell was going on? He was in the kitchen, making a mug of coffee, when the blonde he'd been with threw her arms around him and John instantly forgot all about it, putting his phone aside.

And everything seemed really fine, the omega numbers were in their pocket, they had one last meeting with the administration of the distribution center before they were allowed to take any omegas into their pack, but....

The hellcats stole their money. Price was the first to notice this as he looked into his wallet, about to head to the center.

"Those bitches stole from us!"-shouted Gas, leaving his room hurriedly:he hadn't found his watch, but the most hurtful thing was losing the damn ghost ring-an expensive gold man's ring that he wore as a gift.

"And anyway, where's the beta?"-said Price also irritably:it wasn't quite time to deal with the theft when they were late for a meeting.

"She's not in her room"-Gas replied, and Ghost just mumbled, "what the fuck does 'pick me up from the store' mean?"

It was a goddamn shock.And they were seriously fucked up.Soap nervously tried to call their beta while Ghost was on his way to the store, but got nothing but a recording of the girl leaving the store.

"Next time you'll clean up after her yourself, amigo," Curly man says in disgust squeamishly grabbing the bucket, but the big man only laughs, quickening his step to further annoy curly, "Maybe we should just let her use our bathroom. "

A slight hope of the slightest goodness instills itself in you, unconsciously pulling you forward, wanting to hear more.

"No way, you idiot, someone will see her. It's easier to stop feeding that bitch"?"

Tell why? Why do you have to go through all this? Why do you have to be a waste of space, and why are you... Not needed by your pack?

Over time, you get used to the sound of droplets dripping from the ceiling, the flickering of the lamp, and other people's hands on your body.

No one will come. No one needs you. 'Have they noticed you disappeared?. You don't know.

Maybe they've already been given an omega and they've forgotten about you.

But the search was on. Fucking week after week, every fucking day they tried to find any clue, and the police were in on it too.

It was bloody embarrassing to explain to the police why their beta was without a pack tag, embarrassing for Price not to remember what color your eyes were, and embarrassing for Soap that it was his fault this happened.

It wasn't even about being a beta, or an omega, it was about being a girl, a girl who was alone on the highway at night. A girl who was afraid and could be attacked at any moment and disappeared without a trace.

Everything changed when a month later a signal was received: the phone was turned on.

The whole squad came to that old shack, an old house somewhere on the very outskirts, in one of the most disadvantaged areas of the city.

Ghost remembered the moment. He was making his way through the house before he noticed the open basement door when everyone thought it was too late.

He ran down the stairs until-- Until he saw you, and his heart sank with horror and pain. So small in that huge basement, you sat with your knees drawn up to your chest, biting your nails and staring at the wall opposite. A frail, thin creature, broken from the inside out. Ghost had seen a couple of such captives in his life, but this time he.... The emotionless big man couldn't hold back a tear as he swept your figure into his arms, hugging you by the shoulders and leading you out of the cellar.

"I'm here, baby," was the only thing you heard, but you didn't understand anything.

A bright light hit your eyes, but you didn't understand anything. What was going on? Never mind. Who was it? You don't care.

You sat in the ambulance with a blanket thrown over your shoulders and didn't hear the paramedics or anyone else as you continued to bite your fingers.

"Something is cracking deep inside me," Soap said, standing in the hospital smoking room, leaning on the windowsill. A beautiful sunset was coloring the sky in shades of peach and pink, but he wasn't interested. Simon, who was standing nearby, took a cigarette out of the box and lit it from the lighter, almost immediately taking a deep puff and letting out a trickle of smoke, he said: "This is the heart. "

It's a heart. But does it have one? Does it have those feelings everyone talks about, or can at least the damn brain stop screaming?

Soap hated himself more than the others. Only if he hadn't gone to that damn department then, if he hadn't left in the night, if he hadn't walked out of the store then, none of this would have happened.

Wouldn't be the broken man he is now. There wouldn't have been a girl whose self-esteem, whose psyche would have been murdered. And there wouldn't be the abandoned, lonely beta with no marks, but with deep scars and a hatred for all alphas.

(maybe I'll write a couple of sketches about their life after the tragedy, but I do not know)

[teletubbyinlipstick]

First time with Owl!141 is gonna be so soft and sweet. 💞

Yes and no teehehe~~ mndi🔞

I headcanon that the first time they get intimate none of them get their cocks in her.

Straight up.

They get into foreplay and decide to give the lithe pudgy thing 4 orgasms one from each to make it fair before Price mounted her first, but Johnny got onry and while curling his fingers repeatedly on her g-spot; lips suctioned around her clit to help ride her through the first orgasm, he moves his other hand to press right down on her lower pelvis. Grinding his palm against his fingers inside her and grinning ear to ear when the doves eyes cross and she squirts all over his face, a puddle forming on the bed below them. He groans low in his throat, keeping up the movement as wonder filling her features as she's shoved head first down a cliff of pleasure. Her back is arched so hard its her shoulders that barely brush the bed, blooding rushing from her head to her feet, and she's vaguely aware she's screaming in pleasure, mouth gaping open. Her legs instinctively move further apart, going full spread eagle. The others hone in on her, dark eyes drinking in every minciules twitch of her body, the way her legs jiggle from the pleasure, the flare of her nose as she's in the midst of an earth shattering orgasm. God, they love her.

They've killed for her.

Provided for her.

And now they get to breed her...

...and then she's too sore to continue ://, legs shutting as she blinks up at them tearily, wobbly lip and sniffles as she mumbles hiccuped 'sorrys' for being too tired to continue, pussy fluttering still from the intense pleasure. Johnny is getting bent over the bed next to her, whining petunantly. Claiming it 'wasn't his fault' and he 'knew she had it in her'.

The boys' howl with laughter as Simon scoops her up, taking her to the bathroom smothering her face in kisses. Assuring her they'd have all the time in the world to explore her soft body and love on that pretty pussy. For now, she needed to pee and bathe, her feathers needed preened before she's swaddled in satin sheets and curled against a burly chest.

Distantly, she can hear Johnny squealing through his 3rd orgasm...

[kaitawrites]

Silent Whispers 

Wolverine (Logan Howlett) x Mutant!Reader 

Silent Whispers Masterlist

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Character Death, Jealousy, Logan getting slapped

AN: I DO NOT APPROVE OF ABUSE WITHIN ROMANTIC (ANY) RELATIONSHIPS!! I also got the idea from this fic by @moonpascal

The sound of blankets ruffling and the howling wind coming through a window doesn’t stop the murmurings from Logan. His body tosses and turns. At first you couldn’t make out what he was saying. You sit up in the bed, getting ready to wake him up. “Jean” The name came out softly through his lips. If you weren’t paying attention, you would have missed it. It would’ve mixed with the flow of the wind. 

Everything in you stops as you stare at Logan’s blissful form. So many thoughts ran through your mind. After all this time, he’s still thinking about her. You can feel the tears threatening to spill from your eyes. You shake your head in hopes in getting rid of the thoughts. But it was futile. “Jean…” He whispers again. In a frenzy, he begins to repeat her name non-stop. You just couldn’t take it anymore and ran out of the room. 

The next day the energy shift was obvious between you and Logan. You had begun to avoid him. It was to the point that even Ororo pulled you to aside. “Hey, What’s wrong?” You look away from her and fold your arms. “Nothing, Nothing is wrong” Storm raises an eyebrow at your words. “So why is your forehead frowning?” You use your hands to cover your forehead. “Me and my frowning forehead are out of here!” You take quick pace to leave the room, Storm right behind you. “It’s ok, you can trust me. You can tell me what’s going on! Just tell me what’s going on.” Thats when you whip around to face her, tears beginning to stream down your face. 

“He doesn’t love me, Ororo. He doesn’t love me. I will always be second place to him.” Storm’s eyebrows knit together. Everything piecing together in her mind. She takes hold of your hands, a tight grip in fear you might run again. “It’s probably not what you think. Have you tried speaking to him? You know how extreme his nightmares are.” You scoff. “You wasn’t there. You don’t know how I feel. I was laying right next to him but his mind was on another woman. Not what I think? What else is there to think? He’s been in love with her since I met him. Even before that. I’m just a placeholder.” 

Storm furrows her eyebrows. “Don’t be like that. Just talk to him.” You rip your hands away from her. “He did enough talking last night.” You are out the door before Storm could possibly say anything else. As you storm down the hall, out of the corner of your eye you see Logan. The rage that you were already feeling amplified tenfolds. You can already hear his footsteps right behind you, calling your name. You are quick to run up the stairs to your room, locking the door behind you. 

You pick up your bag from under your bed, getting ready to fill them up with your things. That’s when you start to hear the banging. Logan calling your name repeatedly. “What’s the matter? You’ve been avoiding me all day. You know I won’t understand if you don’t tell me what’s going on.” Blood boiling within your body as you angrily throw things into the bag. “Understand me? Shouldn’t you understand yourself? Maybe understand your horrible nightmares.” It goes silent for a moment. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Bub.” 

You zip up the bag. “Try again, James.” You make a quick pace to open the door. There Logan stands before you, confusion written all over his face. “You’re full of shit.” Logan cracks a smile. “I get that often.” Your hand whips across his smug face, causing a bit of blood dripping out of his mouth. “I get that often too.” 

You grimace at his words, tears threatening to spill once again. “Why am I not good enough for you? Why is it always HER?! Jean, Jean, Jean. It’s always about her. When am I going to be your number one? When is it gonna just be me in your heart?” 

Logan grabs ahold of you. “Don’t say things like that. I love you with everything in me.” You stare into Logan’s eyes before letting out a sigh. “Let go of me, Logan.” He reluctantly let’s go of your shoulders. You turn to pick up your bag off the bed. “I really did love you with my whole being. My heart, my soul, everything. And I am not going to be second place to someone I love.” Before Logan to respond, you (dramatically) jumped out the window and disappear in the dark. 

Marvel Masterlist

(mostly logan lol)