#i made promises of christmas shorts and this year i DID IT.

[starlingsrps]

the nutcracker vol. 1

the nutcracker is a piece of theater that makes cora borderline homicidal every single time she has to perform. suicidal, depending on the conductor and situation. she's played in the pit for ballets before and that's an experience she'd rather pull off her left pinky than ever do again. cso doesn't do much with the nutcracker, thank fuck, but they have some new director of fundraising that came in hot with the wretched idea to have the orchestra play along a projected recording of the ballet.

and then have a gala.

the nutcracker and a gala is just about cora's limit for christmas cheer but she'd be an idiot if she didn't recognize that that, as far as christmas fundraising schemes went, was brilliant. there was no way that wouldn't get asses in seats and open wallets.

so, though she curses the director with every breath, she polishes her memory on the score, airs out her formal concert blacks, and invites liam to be her guest.

she shouldn't invite liam. probably. she enjoys their time together - he gets her and there are few people that truly do - and she would call him a friend but she also knows he's the kind of person who assigns a lot of value to the holidays and gets sentimental about these kinds of things. it's not a date, she says, when she asks him to go with her while she's eating a piece of pizza and wearing his shirt. it would just be nice to have someone she knows at the gala afterwards.

he nods like that makes perfect sense and like he hasn't just eaten her out and asks if he needs a tie.

it's nice knowing there's someone out there for her, she thinks as she changes into her gown backstage and then immediately kicks herself. she could have asked david - he's home from lisbon for the month and would have been delighted to eat and drink on cso's dime for the evening and been a perfect amount of bitchy - but /no. she has liam sitting among the rest of the string section's families and he's probably made five new best friends already.

the performance goes well (cora tends to leave her body when the nutcracker is involved) and liam is waiting for her at stage door when she comes out, cheeks red from the cold and with a big smile that she can't help but smile back at when she sees.

"you were great," he says, kissing her hello. "didn't look like you'd rather be having a lobotomy at all."

she laughs and kisses him because while this isn't a date, she's happy to see him. "oh, thank you. i tried, just for you."

"so proud of my little trooper." he takes her hand between his gloved one and rubs. "jesus cora, gloves?"

she shrugs and he rolls his eyes, tucking her hand into his coat pocket with his. it's sweet. and it's not a date but it is cold and she left her gloves at home. it's not a date but while they're walking up to the cultural center, he keeps making her laugh and she kisses him at stop lights. she's not a romantic but the city is beautiful at night at christmas with the lights and breeze off the lake...it's easy to get a little caught up.

if this was a night she'd been dreading, it goes better than she could have expected. it is what she expected - medium-decent passed appetizers and lukewarm cocktails while mingling with people who think they understand classical music because they played violin as kids. but liam can make conversation with just about anyone and stays close enough that when he slips away while she's discussing saint-saens with a booster, she misses him when she realizes he's gone.

she doesn't have time to feel weird about it before he's back, his hand sliding to the small of her back like it belongs there. and it's nice to feel like, just for a night, that it could. they eat the medium-decent appetizers and drink a few too many lukewarm cocktails and tumble into a shared cab heading north when the night is over.

cora lets her head rest on his shoulder because it feels like it weighs a million pounds and he's warm and smells nice. his lips brush against her hair and she sighs contentedly. she's tipsy and tired but his hand on her knee through the slit in her skirt has her thinking she may have just a little more energy left tonight.

"my place?" he asks, voice a low rumble.

it's absolutely not a date but she still lifts her head up to say yes.

[uravitypng]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐰 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐫𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟

pairing: wolf hybrid denki kaminari x chubby cow hybrid reader

summary: denki kills and eats hybrids, you're his newest target... at least his target at the beginning...

word count: 3.8k words

a/n: this is actually quite messed up but i really like it, i've been writing this for ages!! i hope you like it !! please check the warnings before reading !!

content warnings: prey/predator, dubcon, smut, unprotected sex, knotting, yandere denki, stalking, manipulation, mentions of denki killing and eating people, blood (not descriptive), pet names, kidnapping (but lowkey willingly), reader is turned on by the thrill & danger, praise, degradation - mdni / 18+

cow hybrid reader and wolf hybrid denki!!! he's an actual predator and god you look so tasty. typically he goes for bunnies but you look irresistible. his yellow fluffy ears paired with a sleek tail that matches, along with a black tip end, resting against the side of his leg and a glint of a sharp tooth as he smirks disarming people who should be on high alert around him. slanted, hooded, golden eyes that scream impure desire. he's charming and friendly. just because he's a wolf hybrid it doesn't mean he's dangerous... he wouldn't hurt a fly... that's the last thought that runs through the bunnies heads who become his latest meal think at least.

denki drools when he spots you for the first time, he's seen cow hybrids before but none as beautiful and appealing as you. you're so soft and plump, dark patches litter your skin and your ears droop down the side of your face, two small horns at the top of your head just poking out of your hair too little to do any actual damage. always wearing short denim shorts and skirts with room for your small tail. overalls, dungarees and skin fitting button up shirts that leave little to the imagination. it's mouthwatering as he watches you bend down and tend to your vegetable patch. often twiddling your fingers whenever he spots you, he's been following you for days to know about it and he wonders if you can sense when he's watching you. he doesn't wait this long with other hybrids but he wants to watch you longer. he doesn't know why. he finds you fascinating.

one afternoon your hare hybrid friend visits your cottage in the middle of the forest. "i'm just saying you need to be careful all alone out here. hybrids have been going missing lately in the woods. no one has heard from alice in weeks and she lives closer to you than anyone else does."

your friend peers at you while you look away, instead focusing on your wooden table separating you two. you're not ready to look in his eyes yet, you know the concern will be evident. you glance at your lilies in a vase that are starting to wilt and your blue ceramic teapot with a homemade tea cosy covering the middle section that alice made you last christmas.

he frowns and crosses his arms, you can practically feel his annoyance and displeasure of you avoiding replying.

you take a sip of tea and finally fully digest the information, making eye contact with him. "i appreciate you looking out for me but i like it here. i don't want to move into town."

"move in with me then. i'm on just the outskirts. please, i don't want anything to happen to you." he tries to convince you but you don't budge.

"i'll be even more careful, i promise. i'll always double check the doors are locked and never go out after dark." you shut down the conversation and move on to how your sunflowers are growing quicker than normal this year. you don't want to move, you love your cottage, 'alice has probably just gone to see her family and forgot to tell everybody.'

denki watched as you bid your friend goodbye and he did not like the way you wrapped your arms around him on the doorstep, his taller body engulfing yours and he tells you to promise him you'll be safe. denki hated it. you're his prey, no one else is allowed to touch you.

alice isn't the only one that goes missing, hare doesn't taste nice. no one is allowed to touch you. his pretty heifer.

you unknowingly had denki's rapt attention, so much so that he ended up spraining his ankle on a tree trunk while observing you from the tree line. at that point he decided this little waiting game of his was done, he wanted to get it over with, now annoyed, you're not fast enough to run away from him even with his dodgy ankle and not fast enough to give him an exciting chase so he wants you gone. he does want to hear your voice close up and get you to trust him though, that's always his favourite part (even more than chasing). luring someone in the open, close enough for him to pounce.

today you ventured further in the forest than normal looking for berries to collect for the pie you're planning to make clutching a woven wicker basket tightly so you don't drop any berries, wanting to make it back home before dark just like you promised to your friend. also wanting to be home soon to start making your pie. you're planning to have an early night, you didn't get much sleep last night you swore you heard something outside but chalked it up to the wind playing tricks on you but the doubt still lingered, walking downstairs wrapped in a blanket as you triple checked you locked the doors.

even with a sprained ankle denki was still able to sneak up behind on you and surprise you, wolves aren't labelled as predators for nothing and he hasn't been following you for weeks without your awareness because of luck. "hey sweetheart," he's leaning against a tree bark and looking you up and down hungrily.

you jolt at the sudden voice and yelp turning around to look at him, startled at the handsome hybrid. you're no idiot though, you back away slowly, not taking your eyes of him. warnings from your friend blaring and running through your head. cautionary tales from neighbouring kids as children. your mother drilling into your head at a young age not to trust strangers, not to trust predators no matter how pleasant they seem. she told you stories about how many people still dehumanise hybrids, ostracising them from society. how it's rare to see none hybrids living in hybrid settlements but it still happens, love still happens, love conquers all. but predators... stay away from them. they will do anything in their power to get you alone and make you disappear. there is no such thing as love or friendship or kindness that a predator can feel towards prey, no wolf will love a bunny, no bear will befriend a cow.

"i-is there a problem sir?" you keep backing up, your back hitting the tree. you're cornered. he's faster than you and you know it, wolves are known for being good runners and you are notoriously known as a bad runner from anyone that knows you. you're not going to end up like one of those missing hybrids though, you'll find a way out of this, you're close to your house and you know not to trust a wolf. you're not going to be deceived...

"'sir'? i like that." he smirks and your face heats up. you're not going to be deceived...

"if you'll excuse me i have somewhere to be, someone is waiting for me." you try to keep your voice level and move around him.

denki slams his hand against the tree you're currently backed up against and growls, "don't think so babe," your eyes widen and he leans downs to breathe low in your ear, "why don't you talk to me instead. i get lonely and you're so pretty. i'll be better company than who ever you were planning to see." a shiver runs down your spine and before you can say anything else he crowds your space even more and presses his finger against your lips to stop you from talking again. with his other hand he's lifting your top up and stroking your waist gently.

you should resist. you should run. you don't move.

the voices of reason from your loved ones fade away as his words make you feel wanted and the way he's touching you makes you feel desired. instincts screaming at you, 'he's a wolf! this is a trap!' you ignore it. his hands on you just feel too good. you've never heard of wolves liking cows before, maybe he is just lonely because people don't trust him just because he's a wolf hybrid. you know what that's like, people assume things of you just because you're a cow hybrid.

denki smirks as he takes in your reaction, your shoulders slack and your body relaxes, 'adorable.'

you won't fight him now, you're going to be delicious.

denki digs both his hands on either side of your wide hips, keeping you in place, he doesn't want you to move and try to wriggle away. he breaths in deeply as the scent of your blood permeates the air from the way his sharp fingers from his paws are pressing into you.

you're physically frozen apart from a small quiver. a million thoughts flash through your head, 'this was always his plan, i'm going to die here.' he ignores your tremble and goes to bite you neck, tearing your jugular and killing you. his teeth grazes your skin and you unknowing gasp loudly making denki immediately freeze in his tracks because with that gasp comes a spike of a new smell and it's triggering his dick to harden.

his grip on you gets tighter and you whimper. he raises his head from your neck to look you in eyes in disbelief, "are you really turned on right now?" your mouth opens and closes, no words coming out. he swallows and his disbelief grows at your lack of a rebuttal or any answer, "i'm planning to kill you, you know?" everything is the silent and denki can hear your heartbeat loudly in your chest. "are all cows this fucking stupid?" more silence. denki lifts his head up to look at the sky and grits his teeth inhaling deeply before looking back at you. "jesus you smell so good."

he presses his leg in between your chunky thighs and you whine at the contact. denki groans and his eyes darken even more than they were. if any of his friends saw him right now they would be grossed out, it's not normal to want to fuck someone you're planning on eating. bakugou would tell him he's messed up in the head. maybe he's just horny in general, he wonders if sero is still single, sex with him is always so mindblowing. the thought of that makes him growl again...he doesn't want sero, he wants you, he needs you.

your eyes are cloudy and your blood is starting to drip down staining your skirt. denki glances at you and sees a dazed look on your face, "fuck it," he murmurs under his breath and rips off your underwear, disregarding your shocked shriek. he takes what he wants and he wants you.

he hurriedly unbuckles his belt and shoves down his jeans, pooling down at his ankles.

denki wastes no time slamming his cock into you and starts thrusting at a brutal pace. "feel so amazing, such a pretty little cow." tears run down your face as soon as he stretches you, it's painful and you've never taken someone as big as him before especially when no foreplay has happened. "too many clothes," he mumbles again and tears off your shirt, pulling your bra down and grabbing your breasts harshly, groping to his hearts content, occasionally pinching and flicking your nipples causing you to wince. your pussy warm and getting wetter, sucking him in every time he goes to pull out causing him to growl deeply. your moans get louder and the pain dulls into intense pleasure. little moos escape your mouth and it makes denki go even more feral, wanting you to keep making those sweet noises.

this whole time you haven't been speaking, you don't want to speak, you don't want to think about what will happen after this and after you had gotten used to the pace you stopped making any noises apart from a hushed sob or two. eventually one particular thrust leaves you squealing loudly mixed in with a loud moo. your head feels fuzzy, like its full of cotton wool and you're pressing your body closer to him and trying to match his pace he doesn't stop you, enjoying your neediness for him. "wan' more. need more. want you s'bad," slurring your words and hiccuping. denki is stunned by your attitude, this whole time you've been surprising him. picking up your plush thigh he wraps it around him higher and starts pushing into you harder. you scream loudly and try to hold onto his arms, losing your grasp as your body bounces on his cock. "lemme come," you beg.

"awe, you wanna come," denki teases you snickering, "think you deserve it?"

you nod your head frantically. "yeah, yeah, 'm good and pretty, jus' like you said."

he hums like he's actually considering it before answering "i never said you're good. i said you feel good. i might let you come later."

you start blabbering, fat tears streaming down your face as you beg and plead but he just smirks with a gleam in his eye. "i'll think about letting you come if you take my knot like a good girl." his pace becomes even harder than before and you feel something forming, it's enlarged, swollen, bulbous, that's getting bigger continuously smacking against you but not going in.

"knot?" you tilt your head confused. if your head was more clear you'd have an idea what it was, sometimes when you go into town you hear people talking and once you had heard about knots in passing.

"are you serious, are all cows this dumb?" he teases you and cackles.

pouting, you deny his accusation, "'m dumb, just don' know."

denki quirked an eyebrow, looking amused, "oh, when did you become so vocal?" he says playfully. "you'll find out what a knot is in a minute sweetheart."

wanting desperately to come you nod your head while your moans and ah's increase. "ssshit, gonna give it to you pretty girl," he groans and pushes his fat knot, ropes of cum spilling into and stuffing you full. a silent scream escapes your mouth and you lean against denki's lithe chest, a little moo comes out and you shake.

he growls at you telling you not to move after you start shifting and wriggling, unable to pull away from him and his knot. it's hard for you to keep still, you thought it was painful before but the larger stretch makes you feel like you're being torn apart.

as you lean against denki and pant heavily a light blush forms on his cheeks. in the back of his mind he's thinking about how he wants to wrap his arms and never let you go. he's brought back to reality as he hears your sobs and his eyebrows furrow. it shouldn't matter to him in the slightest that you're in pain, it's his plan that in the next hour you won't be breathing but he doesn't like it...

"want me to make you come now sweetheart?" he soothingly asks you. in between sobs and small cries you tell him you want to come and he lets you. "you've such a good girl. you've been such a good cow. so obedient. cute little heifers get to come."

being plugged full of his cum and his cock still hard and throbbing in you, he grabs hold of your pillowy thighs and spreads them further apart, lifting one up to perch it around his slim waist after slipping down his leg previously from hard thrusts shaking your body. his other hand going down, unknowingly he retracts his sharp nails to make sure he doesn't hurt you at all, and presses against your clit, making figures of eight, at the same time grinding into you and gyrating his hips.

denki can't stop his groans as he feels you clenching around him. he speeds up, wanting to feel you come around him and his knot.

you arch your back and your eyesight goes starry, you moan as you climax and denki helps you ride out your orgasm. denki groans again feeling you come undone. cunt now puffy and swollen. the pain begins to dull after such an intense orgasm but you still clutch onto denki's top tightly. he sees that you're still in pain and frowns, caressing your soft skin in a second attempt to calm you down and relax you.

there's so many thoughts running through his head right now as he holds you, thinking about how beautiful you are and how you make his heart skip a beat. he thinks about your cute patchy skin and supple body that feels so heavenly. thinking about the judgemental comments from people if they saw what just happened, and people could, neither of you tried to muffle your voices and you're out in the open. thinks about if he's starting to change his mind about you... thinking about what he was planning... it would be a waste of a couple weeks of watching you but he's thinking about how if anything did happen to you he'd be gutted. he thinks about how if he saw another hybrid try to hurt you he'd be furious. he'd make them pay. he would want to protect you, keep you safe. make sure you're his... 'safe? mine? what am i going on about. i don't think i'll go into the forest again for awhile... i'll stick with bunnies from now on...'

he's jolted from his thoughts as you copy him, tenderly tracing circles along his hip. denki intakes air as he feels the tender touch, almost lovingly, it nearly makes him cry with how you're touching him. your mind is completely blank and your face displaying bliss from the aftermath of sex. you're so pliant right now, he could just take you, no one would notice, you'd just be another hybrid that's gone missing in the woods. you wouldn't even fight him.

denki starts talking quietly, making it very clear what he says is for your ears only which makes it all the more sweeter and he tells you that you're beautiful and asks about the berries you were carrying and which berry is your favourite. he whispers to you about how he sprained his ankle earlier and little stories and anecdotes stuff like how he was once electrocuted when he was a toddler holding an umbrella in a thunder storm and how he lived surrounded by non-hybrids a lot of his life but he's still wary of how they might have turned on him at the drop of a hat, he carries that anxiety with him even now, hidden but still there. he lived there before he found his safe haven, his friends he met, hybrids like him, he called them like-minded and you weren't really sure what he was referring to.

you hum listening to his stories and press your body against his even more due to getting cold from the lack of clothes you were wearing and the sun that's staring to go down.

after a while of more of his stories you ask, "can we kiss?"

"huh?"

"we haven't kissed this whole time and i think we should."

he bursts out laughing and accuses you for only wanting to kiss him because of his teeth which you vehemently deny causing him to laugh more. "alright sweetheart, i'll give you what you want." tilting your head up he kisses you delicately before evolving into something more hungry, his tail swishing softly and languidly behind him as he licks into your mouth, tongues intertwining, and teasingly trails your bottom lip with his teeth.

his knot begins to soften and he knows soon he'll have to pull out. he holds onto you tighter not wanting to let you go and that's when he's made up his mind. he's not going to let you go. you have no choice.

you whine and he hisses under his breath as he takes his cock out and watches his cum drip down your thighs, wanting to get you both home as quick as possible so he can go down on you and feast on your combined taste. denki holds onto your waist to keep you from falling over, your knees wobbly from standing in that position for so long. "i've decided what i'm going to do with you." you gulp and try to stay calm, at least you've had great sex before dying. "i'm keeping you." he grins at you.

"w-wait what?" you ask confused.

"i thought i was gonna to eat you." he explains and you nod your head gathering that was your demise. "but now i want you as my cute little girlfriend."

you're stunned, genuinely speechless. "i have questions... can i ask questions?" you request timidly.

'cute,' denki thinks before smirking and teases you replying, "maybe later, first lets get home."

you aren't refusing to leave with him, it's not even because you're worried it's your only option, it's that you want to leave with him. you know how wrong that is, on multiple levels, but somehow you want to trust him and put your faith in him. you want to think he sees you differently than before or differently to others. you see him differently too, not just during sex but afterwards too, all those words exchanged and chaste touches, you want more. it's wrong... but that doesn't mean you don't go willingly with him.

if you knew what denki did to your friends you wouldn't be compliant. if you knew the extent of what he's done you'd prefer to die and be with your friends but denki will make sure you never find out, he'll never let you out of his sight.

denki licks his lips and you panic worried that even this last minute was a ploy to get you to completely let down your guard but he stares at your bare chest. before you can have a reaction to his stare he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fixing the rest of your clothes the best he can, his hands hovering in between your breasts. "don't want anyone looking at what's mine."

he holds onto your hand and walks in front of you in the direction of his house. "i'm kaminari by the way. you can call me denki. you can also stick with 'sir' if you want." he smirks and turns to look at you causing your eyes to widen as he mentions the use of sir. "this entire time i never told you my name sweetheart, i can't believe i didn't tell you or you ask about it."

"that never crossed my mind, i was more concerned about being eaten." you say seriously and denki chuckles.

"understandable sweetheart. i told you mine so it's your turn. what's my pretty girlfriend called?"

[wardenparker]

New Year's Surprise

Jack Daniels x plus size female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 18.7k Warnings: Cursing, alcohol, internalized fatphobia, self esteem issues, pining, meddlesome friends, unwanted attention from a male coworker, light spanking, praise, fingering, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, rough sex, Jack likes being scratched up, reader is described as having fingernails long enough to scratch (no specific length given), the love is requited they're just idiots. Summary: Ginger has a plan to get you and Jack to admit you have feelings for each other. She did not anticipate just how well it would work... Notes: Happy almost New Year everyone! Enjoy a little more winter seasonal smut and fluff from us to you 🥂🍾✨

"You're sure it's not too much, Ging?" Turning in front of the full-length mirror in Ginger's apartment, you inspect the glittering black cocktail dress that your friend helped you pick out at the mall during all those after-Christmas sales she promised you that you would find something at. She was right, like she always is, but now that the dress is on you, you're wondering if you haven't made a mistake. If it's not too revealing, or too short, or too tight.

Whoever in HR came up with this insane Cowboys and Flappers theme for the company New Year's Eve party deserved to have their head examined. You're not the femme fatale agent that gets sent out to seduce men and collect their secrets. Few men out there in the world are ever really seduced by the chubby girl in any given scenario, but it did tend to make you invisible. Invisible women can slip in and out of buildings in literally any kind of uniform and get through security without ever being harassed, and that works to your advantage on almost every case. Unfortunately, it also means that for the five years you've been a Statesman agent, you've also been fairly invisible to the man you've developed feelings for.

It’s perfect.” No matter how many times Ginger Ale tells you that you are sexy just the way you are, that insecurity gets the best of you. “I’m telling you, you will have every eye in the place.”

“I doubt it.” You sigh in the mirror and smooth your hands over the sequined dress one more time. “But that’s okay. I don’t want every set of eyes…”

“I know what set of eyes you want on you.” Your taste in men is your own, and Ginger won’t fault you for it, but she wonders why Jack. “It might do the man good to know that he’s got competition.” You don’t believe her when she says that it’s more telling that Jack doesn’t hit on you, but it’s the truth.

“He doesn’t, though.” Shrugging, you turn away from the mirror and decide to just go on with the night. Wishing won’t make it real and Jack Daniels barely looks at you. Even though you’ve partnered on cases, spend time together in and out of the office, and are arguably friends in every true sense? You’ve always wanted more with him. The only person who knows is Ginger, though, and you prefer to keep it that way since Jack will never return your affection. “And that’s…it is what it is. Even if you’re the only person I dance with tonight, it’ll still be fun.”

“Wearing that dress?” Ginger snorts as she pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose. “I’ll have the faith for both of us, how about that?” She knows that Jack won’t be able to resist you tonight, not when she’s lined up a few of the junior agents to dance with you already. It’s time that Jack settles down and finds some happiness, and what better time than the New Year?

******

While you easily could have had the party at Statesman considering the size of the grounds, Champ wouldn’t hear of it. He’s hosting the damn thing himself come hell or high water, in his favourite suit with his wife dressed to the 9’s in her flapper dress, and more caterers than you’ve ever seen in your life all making his early twentieth century coal baron’s mansion look as resplendent as the day it was built. The place is palatial, with a ballroom so big that the band he’s hired looks tiny in one corner despite being six-men strong. It’s music and liquor and appetizers passing by on trays when you and Ginger walk through the door, and you gasp at how nice it all looks.

“I know he does it every year,” you sigh to your best friend. “But the theme is always different and I swear somehow the house always looks better on new year’s.”

“Champ does know how to throw one hell of a party.” She agrees, snagging two glasses of champagne from a waiter as she walks by. Her own sleek flapper dress is a vivid purple, making her beautiful skin glow and for tonight, she’s wearing contacts. Her short hair is perfectly styled, a cap like illusion, highlighted with the crystal headband she’s picked. “To a New Year we will never forget.” She hands you one glass and adds, “or regret.”

“You’re certainly optimistic.” You flash her and grin and tap the rim of your glass against hers. “Finally going to talk to Alicia or is this just positive vibes?” It’s been two years since Ginger started crushing on the woman who supervises Statesman campus tours and visitor experience, but she hasn’t made a move yet. Being frozen in place with someone you care about is something the two of you have in common.

“Positive vibes.” She huffs, rolling her eyes and trying to change the subject. “Look! There’s Tequila!” She waves the younger agent over to where you are standing. “You made it! Didn’t think you were ever gonna get back from Brazil, or if you wanted to.” She adds with a grin.

“Those are two very different questions.” Tequila agrees with a suggestive waggle of his eyebrows. Did he have to come back? Sure. But did he want to leave the comfort and luxury of that beautiful woman’s bed? Not at all. “But I would not have missed dancing with you ladies for the world,” he adds with a wink. He’s very much in on Ginger’s plan, after all, and is looking forward to the fireworks it will bring.

You fluster slightly at his words, but Ginger knows that you don’t have your cap set on Tequila. You just don’t handle compliments well. “You’ll have to get in line.” Ginger warns him with a smirk. “As good as Rye looks tonight, every man in here is going to want a dance. After I dance with her first.”

“Well I reckon I’ll have to be second, then.” Tequila puts in a playful pout. “But only because I would never deny Miss Ginger Ale gettin to be first.” He smiles again and tips his hat, having opted to wear his best Stetson with an elegant Kingsman suit. “You don’t have to,” you insist, knowing Tequila always has more choices of dance and bedroom partners than he could ever feasibly make his way through. “I’m sure you have other people you want to dance with tonight.”

“No one important.” Tequila smirks as he drags his eyes up and down your outfit and whistles slowly. “And no one nearly as pretty.” He promises.

“Liar.” Though you roll your eyes at him, you don’t protest anymore than that. He’s your friend, after all. And if he wants to waste his time dancing with you, you’ll just enjoy it. Tequila’s a fantastic dancer, after all.

“Never lie to you, honey.” Tequila croons, taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. “Lie about what?” The voice comes from your left and all eyes swing that way.

“Jack!” Normally you know he’s coming. The smell of earthy, expensive cologne and the tap-click-shuffle of his boots on polished floors. The soft humming he gets up to when he’s pleased with himself, not quite melodic but endearing because it means he’s happy. But you sensed none of that just now, too caught up in the band playing and the fragrant flowers and the tickle of bubbly in your nose and throat. “Nothing. We were just talking about dancing…” He looks like a dream, and it makes you sick to your stomach and elated all at once. Another night of watching him fawn over every woman but you is what you’ve resigned yourself to putting up with, but it’s just rude of him to look so damn handsome in that black velvet double breasted suit and sleek black Stetson while he does it.

“Dancing, hum?” His eyes narrow slightly at the grip Tequila has on your hand and he wants to reach out and slap it away, but he just shoots everyone an easy grin. “Ready to cut a rug tonight, eh?”

"I guess so." The shyness that threatens to shoot straight through you is knocked off kilter by Ginger, who hoots in response. "She's got her dance card all filled up already, Whiskey. Should've gotten here earlier," she tells him with a smirk.

His mustache ticks, it’s the only change to his facial expression. “I’m sure Rye can squeeze me in.” His dark amber eyes slide over to you and swipe up and down your body. “Can’t you, sugar?”

"Of course." You'd throw over the whole goddamn list for him. Besides, you have no idea what Ginger could possibly mean by saying your 'card' is full. One dance with her and one with Tequila isn't a full anything. "Of course I can."

“Good. Then how about I refresh you ladies’ drinks?” Jack asks, slapping Tequila on the back a little rougher than necessary. “Come help me with that.”

"Sure." Tequila grunts, throwing you a confused expression like he can't figure out why the hell Jack needs help getting champagne when waiters with trays are everywhere, but he shoots Ginger a secret smirk before following Jack into the next room where the open bar is set up.

“Tonight will be perfect.” Ginger predicts with a smug grin as she watches the two men walk towards the open bar. .

“What the hell are you doin’, flirtin’ with Rye?” Jack’s easy grin falls away and his brows knit together as soon as his back is turned to you. “You know that girl ain’t your type.”

"I can't be nice to my friend?" Tequila asks, pretending to be positively aghast that Jack would suggest he's up to anything else. One hand ever goes to his chest with a dramatic gasp.

Jack’s eyes cut towards the other agent, a frown on his face. “It’s one goddamn thing to be nice, it’s another to flirt.”

"When did I flirt?" The younger agent counters, knowing full well that's what he was doing but not about to admit it because he wants to make Jack stew.

“You were flirtin’ the second you can outta your momma, but you gotta learn there’s certain girls you don’t do that shit with.” Jack growls, stopping in front of the bar and holding up two fingers. “Double 62 Triple Barreled.” He orders, wanting one of the rare whiskeys that Champ had broken out tonight. “And two champagnes.”

"Now, why is that, Jack?" Tequila hums, looking down at his friend. Jack isn't too much shorter than him, but just enough to annoy the older agent on occasion. "Why is Rye one of those girls?"

“Because…” that’s where his argument ends, because there’s not really a reason beyond his own feelings. “It’s…unprofessional.” He decides. “She’s an agent for Christ’s sake.”

Tequila snorts at this string of logic, accepting his drink from the pretty bartender with a wink and sliding a large bill into the tip glass on the bar top before looking back at Jack. "That's a load of horse shit and you know it, Daniels. You fucking know it."

He does know it, but he snatches his own drink up and rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He hates that his stomach twists and he wonders if you had been flirting back. Looking over his shoulder at where you are standing, he clenches his jaw at the tassels that are swaying every time you move. “Don’t get her damn hopes up.” He takes a sip of his whiskey. “We both know you ain’t gonna fuck her.”

"Nor does she want me to." This is gonna be a hell of a lot easier than he and Ginger thought, if Jack is always so fuckin wound up over you and he only just arrived for the night. "I ain't the one she has her eye on and everybody with eyes knows it."

Jack ignores that, huffing to himself as he tries to hid the fucking jealousy that curls in his gut at whoever you do have your eye on. Lucky son of a bitch. “No fuckin’ talkin’ to you, hardheaded S.O.B.” The champagne glasses are in front of him and he downs the rest of the drink to slap the crystal glass down and snatch up the flutes. Turning around without another word and stalking across the room towards you and Ginger.

It's only one room he has to cross, but by the time he gets there, Agent Brandy has sidled up beside you and Ginger and has his fingers ever so subtly on your elbow while bends his head and puts all his focus directly on you.

Halfway across the room, Jack jerks to a halt and growls, shaking his head as he resumes the walk and forces a moderately friendly smile on his face. “Didn’t think you’d be back from Korea, Don.” He interrupts as he arrives back at your group.

"Two days ago." Brandy flashes a smile in Jack's general direction but keeps his focus on you. "Glad I made it back in time, too. Champ throws a hell of a party."

His eye twitches but Jack nods. “Yeah he does. Shoulda brought that little gal you were seein’. Brandy. Brenda right? Or was it Bambi?” He shrugs. “Maybe all of them at once, knowin’ you.”

"Now don't be unkind, Jack." Brandy's eyes cut over to the older agent and Brandy offers what could be considered a modestly dramatic pout. "Or Rye might think the worst of me and throw me over for that dance I just got promised."

Jack seethes beneath the smile on his face. “Would hate for that to happen.” He lies, handing Ginger one of the glasses and then offers the other to you.

The glass is offered with a smile and you thank Jack, savoring even the tiniest moment of contact between brushing fingers as he hands it over. It's probably bordering on pathetic, how long you've carried this torch for Jack, and it seems like Ginger is really trying to encourage you tonight to come out of your shell tonight but you just don't know. As nice as everyone is being, it doesn't feel right. The only thing that feels right is when you're around Jack. It's just a damn shame that he doesn't feel the same.

It’s almost painful how the simple, innocent touch affects him. Now visceral his reaction is. Only the training that Statesman has given him keeps him from showing anything. “Well,” he hates to tear himself away, but he can’t be around you for too long. “I better go talk to Champ about some cases he wants worked tomorrow.” He offers.

"It's a party," you remind him, smile flickering as he steps back. Obviously the small touch that you'll be savoring for the rest of the night has had the opposite effect on him. But there's no need to show that. Not when it's fully expected that he doesn't want to be around you when there are plenty of other people to talk to and women to dance with. "Don't work too hard, okay?"

“Never do,” he nods at everyone and turns around and skedaddles over to Champ like his pants are on fire.

"Come on," Ginger loops her arm through yours and lends Brandy a smirk that you don't notice — you're too busy trying not to look after Jack. "Let's go dance, honey. The night is young and we are looking far too good not to show off."

Champ eyes Jack as he stops by his side. “Figured you’d have a gal in your arms by now.” He huffs as he reaches out to shake Jack’s hand. “Losing your touch?” Jack snorts. “When have I ever lost my touch?” He asks, pointedly refusing to look back over towards you. “Just surveying my prospects.”

"And how is Agent Rye this evening?" Champ doesn't even have to look to know that that's where Jack has just come from. He blew into the room so quickly that it's the only explanation for the fire in his heels.

“Don’t you start with me.” Jack groans, shaking Champ’s hand and huffing. “Far as I know, she’s dandy.”

"Why should I not start?" Champ knows damn well why not, but he enjoys riling up his friend. "Somebody beat me to the punch?"

“Every-goddamn-body here tonight is actin’ like they’ve never seen the woman in a dress.” He snorts, complaining about it even though he has already memorized the way the damned sequined dress clings to your curves and enhances them in ways that should be criminal. “It’s damned ridiculous and borderline workplace harassment.”

Smirking, Champ pours two glasses of his preferred Statesman 1972 Select, savoring the smoked cherry notes from that particular year. He hands one cut crystal glass over to Jack with his tongue set firmly in his cheek. "You know you'd be a hell of a lot less mad if you just asked the lady to dance your damn self."

The glare Jack cuts Champ is withering and he turns his head as he takes a sip, refusing to rebuff the remark. It seems like everyone is taking the piss with him tonight as Eggsy would say. (edited)

"She's allowed to have fun, ya know." Champ goes on, humming the thought as though the glare Jack just shot him wouldn't have struck a lesser man dead in his tracks. "Damn shame she hasn't set her cap on anyone. Big family dreams, that gal has. Always has. It'll be a damn shame when she finally decides to hang up her pistols and have a family, but I won't let her get farther than the training ring. Too good of an agent to just let her retire."

“Is there a point to your ramblings?” Jack grumbles. “Or are you just spouting shit tonight?”

"Do what I want in my own house." The older man chuckles heartily and claps Jack on one shoulder. "Got a couple of jobs to start the new year with. Come see me tomorrow and we'll figure out which one's yours."

He’s being dismissed and since Champ is also giving him hell, Jack quickly nods and walks off. Trying to walk around the ostentatious ballroom without looking at you. “Hello handsome.” A perfectly manicured hand drapes itself over his shoulder and the scent of gardenias and sandalwood fills his nostrils. “Tiffany.”

Like a bloodhound on a trail, you spot it from across the ballroom without even trying to. Twirling around with Ginger, your eyes catch sight of the gorgeous, skinny, leggy blonde who has let herself drape over Jack's side and you sigh. Deflate is probably the right word, but you remind yourself it was never going to happen anyway and just hold on to Ginger as the song comes to an end.

“What’s a tall, dark, handsome drink of water like you doin’ all by your lonesome?” She purrs, making him hide the wince he had at the put on accent of hers. She’s as southern as tofu and yet she tries to make it sound like she’s grown up around here. Still, she’s a distraction and the best part about it is that there’s no emotional strings. “Looks like I should be buyin’ you a drink, darlin’.”

"I wish you would," she puts on a too-high giggle and bats eyelashes heavy with mascara and augmented with false hairs. Laying it on thick, she pushes in even closer and lets her body fit against his with nothing left to the imagination.

Jack doesn’t feel anything but he paints a cocky smirk on his face as he turns to her. “Then let me go get something for you, what do you want, darlin’?”

“Champagne, of course,” she simpers, never once considering the fact that she’s at a party for a whiskey distillery. Hell, she hadn’t even dressed for the theme.

Tiffany hangs out at the bar Statesman regularly hangs out at. A groupie because she knows everyone there makes good money. He’d bet his bottom dollar she conned Scotch into bringing her.

“Some party.” Is her attempt at conversation, putting more effort into showing off her cleavage than completing sentences. “You distillery boys sure know how to treat your gals.”

“Of course we do.” Jack’s smile is wicked, but it’s a part of the persona he adopts when he is working a target, it’s not real. “Any gal of mine deserves to be treated right.”

“Is that an invitation?” She knows who Jack is. Knows the civilian job title he’s been at Statesman Distillery. Even if she knew what it was all a front for, she likely wouldn’t care. She might just try harder if she knew the real wealth being flung around between a lot of these people.

“Now sweetheart, I’m good for a night or two.” Jack drawls. “But I’ve got a lot of leavin’ left to do.” He hums, quoting the country song.

The pout on Tiffany’s face is both dramatic and pronounced, but seeing that he’s immovable in that point — and knowing his reputation — she makes a small sound of frustrated disgust before flouncing away. Apparently annoyed at having wasted her time on a line cowboy.

The huff that Jack lets out is one of pure relief. Happy that he won’t have to deal with her again for at least half the night. She might make her way back around depending on successful she is. It’s shameful to say, but most of the agents here have dallied with her, including Jack. However, he had only taken her home to satisfy a physical need. He slowly makes his way back to the bar to order another drink, not champagne.

His line of sight is unfortunate as he saunters back toward the open bar. Looking back out to the dance floor, he can see Tequila twirling you around and the two of you laughing as the younger man holds you close and mock-sings along with the band.

Jack’s frown is deep, furrowing his brow as he cuts his eyes away in a jealous huff.

It goes round and round like that for most of the night. One dance partner after the next sweeps you across the dance floor but never the partner you want. One beautiful woman after another sidles up to Jack and bats their eyelashes but none are the woman he actually wants at his side. It’s a three-ring-circus. A whirlwind. But you never seem to get close enough to each other to see that neither of you is actually having any fun.

It’s easy to have an arm around a woman, easy to smile and flirt. His eyes continuously find you on the dance floor. Ginger had been right apparently, you had a damn dance card that was slap full. He hisses under his breath, wondering how many of those men knew you bit your thumb when you were working out a problem or that your eyes changed to a lighter shade when you were feeling slightly bashful.

There isn’t a single night of your life where you’ve gotten this much attention from this many different men — or this many different people period — and while it’s fun in a whirlwind sort of way, you do find yourself clock-watching. Wondering why your fellow agents all seem to be paying you so many compliments tonight and why you sort of feel like Cinderella at the ball without a hint of the real Prince Charming, the closer it gets to midnight the more you’re thinking of just going home. The last thing you want is to glance across the ballroom at midnight and see Jack tangled up in a midnight kiss with some petite redhead or statuesque model with perfect curls. You’ll be happier skipping out early and being in your pjs with a book at midnight than you will be witnessing that.

It’s fucking infuriating to have so many people come between him and you. Every dang time he untangles himself to break in on your dance with some partner, Ginger, Tequila or Champ waylay him. He’s never had such a hard time getting to chat with you and it’s making him slowly unravel his temper. “Ah Jack, there you are.” He sighs and paints on a smile when Champ claps his back and shoves a drink in his hand. “Forgot to mention somethin’….” His eyes slide away from you laughing as you are spun around, bitter to be stonewalled again.

“Well if it ain’t the gol’dern Belle of the Ball.” The voice you hear behind you is the one person you were hoping to avoid tonight, and as you’ve just finished dancing with one of the guys from the technology department who you didn’t even think knew your name, there’s no escaping. Agent Vodka is one of those older men who doesn’t realize that James Bond is just a character and that no one drags that persona into their everyday life. He routinely ‘flirts’ with you like he’s bestowing you a huge goddamn favor for even looking in your direction, and you were genuinely hoping to avoid him tonight.

Vodka is handsome in a classical sense, some would say a silver fox, if he had a better attitude. As it stands, there’s a confused tilt to his Stetson adorned head and he rakes his eyes up and down your body in a very calculated gaze. “You musta cleaned up for hours. Getting ready for a good night.”

“Sure. I guess so.” You nod, tone polite but dismissive. Vodka has a tendency to interpret friendly as begging for hands to be put on you, and the last thing you want to do is encourage him. “Happy new year, Vodka.”

“Seems like Whiskey and I have been the only ones not with you tonight.” He intones, smirking slightly. “Guess you was savin’ the best for last, huh? Since Jack’s hangin’ all over the ladies, I’ll step in and claim this dance.” He doesn’t ask for permission, just stepping up to you and grabbing your waist.

“That’s really okay.” Reeling backward, Vodka is strong but your self-defense training is a hell of a lot better, and you twist in his grip to make sure he can’t get a solid hold on you no matter how hard he tries. “Appreciate the offer,” you huff, trying to push him away. “But I was just heading home.”

“Oh don’t be that way.” Vodka huffs and manages to pull you close. “Believe me, dancin’ ‘s just a prelude to what we can do later.”

“Which is exactly why I don’t want to dance with you.” You push back against him again, leveraging your elbow against his side to loosen his grip with a sharp shot to his liver. This has gone too far and is hovering on ruining the night — which has been fairly fun despite its lack of your favorite cowboy and coworker.

“Jack-“ Ginger doesn’t bother apologizing as she taps his shoulder and points out to the dance floor. “Why don’t you go save Rye?” She huffs.

At this point it’s obvious that it’s a struggle. People are giving you extra space on the dance floor as they realize what’s happening but for whatever godforsaken reason, no one has stepped in yet. Probably because they’re too shocked that Vodka has finally crossed the line into being physically inappropriate instead of just saying uncomfortable things.

“Sugar, I’m sorry I’m late for our dance.” Jack slaps his hand down on Vodka’s shoulder and digs his fingers into the fleshy muscle. Getting satisfaction from the immediate change in the man’s stance. “Don’t mind if I interrupt, do ya?” His tone is friendly, but there’s a warning woven in the words. Dark eyes turn towards you as you quickly step back from the other man’s grasp.

“Wouldn’t have thought you’d keep a dame waitin’.” Vodka mumbles, all sheepishness and apology now that he realizes he’s infringed on another man’s territory.

Jack doesn’t rip into the man like he wants to, everyone else is starting to relax and resume the party. “You probably need to lay off the liquor.” He tells the other agent, not really caring for the man either.

“You forget who we work for, Daniels?” Vodka huffs, giving Jack the stink eye. “Not like you go easy, either.”

“Last time I checked, I took no for an answer, Robbins.” Jack turns his back after letting Vodka go and sweeps you into his arms, effectively dismissing him.

The room damn near erupts into applause, chattering all around you erupting out of uncomfortable silence, but you don’t hear it. You don’t even see Tonic and Champ escorting Vodka out of the ballroom with the utmost immediacy so the dressing-down can be vocal and private. All you see is Jack, and all you hear is Jack. Even as quiet as he is, the huff he gives as he scoops you up and twirls you away speaks volumes. “Jack, you—you didn’t have to—” Of course, if he hadn’t, you’re not sure you could’ve gotten away so cleanly. “Thank you.”

“Don’t think a thing of it, sugar.” Although he has a few harsh words rolling around for everyone who didn’t step in. It’s like they were waiting for something. Alcohol’s done made their brains addled. “Although my own apologies for manhandling you to get you outta that sticky situation.” Even though he’s apologizing, he starts to lead you in a dance.

“I really don’t mind.” And that is the understatement of the goddamn year, as you instinctively melt against Jack the second he starts to move.

“Still…..” There’s finally a bit of happiness to the evening and he smirks down at you. “Now you can say your dance card has been filled.”

“Could’ve left Vodka off it completely,” you grumble lightly, but you still end up smiling. When Jack looks at you in almost any way you just light up from the inside. It’s instinctual.

“Don’t know what got into him.” Jack huffs, even though he’s saved you from encounters like that before.

“His namesake, most likely.” He had smelled like it, at least. A fact which added no charm whatsoever to your encounter. “Really, Jack. Thank you. I appreciate it.”

Jack nods. “Sugar, you know that I know you are a capable agent. You coulda mopped the floor with him, but I’ll always give you whatever help you need.”

“I prefer not to bring hand-to-hand combat to Champ’s front door if I can help it.” If you let yourself really chew on the fancy, you could imagine Jack as rescuing you like a knight in armor. Like you were his to protect. “Not sure how much he’d appreciate that, regardless of how capable I am.”

“I think you’d find Champ more forgivin’ than you think.” He snorts, reminding himself of his own major fuck up just a few years prior. Champ had forgiven him and allowed him to regain the trust and confidence that he had destroyed through his own bling grief and rage.

“Maybe.” Jack certainly knows your boss better than you do even after several years with the agency, so you’ll differ from him. “But I’m glad to not have to find out. And…” The rest of the thought gets swallowed, and you cut your eyes away from him in embarrassment. There are some things better left unsaid and normally you’re so good at keeping your mouth shut.

“And?” Jack frowns slightly, not liking that you are holding back with him. “You can tell me anything, you know that.”

“It’s nothing,” you promise him, shaking your head and acting like it isn’t the biggest, most honest confession in the world from you that sets your cheeks on fire and makes you even more bashful around him. “I’m just…glad I got to dance with you. That’s all.”

“You didn’t think you were going to dance out the old year without ole Jack now, did ya?” He sounds pouty that you would even think that.

"Honestly?" Shrugging slightly even with one of his hands splayed across your back and the other holding yours tenderly against his chest, you wonder how ever you ever manage to keep a damn thing to yourself with him around when your mind just sort of seems to melt in his presence. "I was going to split and ring in the new year in my bed with the book I've been reading."

Jack frowns and shakes his head, not agreeing with your plans in the slightest. “Now that seems like a waste.” He draws. “Mighty fine night to spend readin’ a book. You should be doin’ other things.”

"Not a lot of other options to pick from," you mumble, trying to force your mind away from immediately conjuring the mental images and repeated daydreams of doing just about everything under the sun with — and to — him.

Jack wants to protest that, but the song starts to close out and you almost stop in your tracks. Obviously believing that he will end the dance now that Vodka is gone and the set is done. Instead of dropping your hands, he pulls you tighter against him. “Is that why you wore a dress like that, sugar? ‘Cause you didn’t have any options?”

"Ginger picked it out." Wrongly assuming it to be an indictment of the choice, you frown reflexively and wonder why he's still holding on to you. The trouble is over and the song is done. Shouldn't he be finding someone better to spend his time with? "I know it's...it's not right. Flapper dresses are designed for women who look the opposite of me. But she insisted on sticking to the theme."

“Opposite of you?” He makes a face of utter confusion. “What are you talkin’ ‘bout? Dress looks good, fits you.” Maybe you have a shit ton of pins in the dress? His sweet wife would always have to pin her dresses to get them to fit right. Nearly every night they went out, he was helping her pin it just so.

Skinny is what you meant, but instead of saying so you just chew your lip and shake your head. Voicing that out loud would really just cement the ruination of the night and you don't want to do that. "Never mind," you insist instead. "I'm glad you like it." Even if he's just saying it to be nice, which you're sure he is, it's still nice to hear.

There’s something bugging him about the way you continuously quit talking and get around what you mean. The next song starts to play and Jack moves to that slightly faster tempo. “No one’s breakin’ in yet, sugar. So I’m keepin’ you unless you need a break?”

"No." Not from him. You would never, ever ask for a break from him. "No, I'm good." In fact, you've been so distracted by the rescue that you haven't noticed midnight creeping ever-closer. "I don't want a break."

Jack smiles, not the cocky smirk he adopts or the charming playboy facade that he uses on women like Tiffany. This is a genuine smile, one that makes his dimple show with a flash of white teeth and the crow’s feet around his eyes appear. “Then let’s dance, sugar.”

Champ chuckles when he sidles up beside Ginger with a fresh glass of champagne for each of them and his wife on his other arm, all ready to lead the midnight countdown after this song is over. "Took all damn night," he laughs to his co-conspirator. "And ya had to pull out the big gun with Vodka. But look at 'em."

“Man huffed and puffed at being used.” Ginger rolls her eyes and curls her lip. “But I promised him the Antarctic assignment. It will seem like punishment to everyone else and apparently he’s romancing one of the scientists down there.” Personally, she doesn’t see why anyone would be romanced by Vodka, but to each their own.

"It's for a damn good cause." Champ stifles a guffaw and even his wife looks amused at the way everything went down. "Everybody deserves to be happy, don't they? Even Vodka." It earns another snort from the older man and he aims a smirk at Ginger. "So what's the plan from here, Ging?"

“If Jack will get off his ass, there should be a kiss at midnight.” Ginger grins. “And maybe, just maybe, the dumbass will realize that it’s okay to want her. She wants him too.”

"Of course she does." Everybody knows that. Everybody with eyes and sense in their head, anyway. "He's just been stuck in the whole of his own grief for far too damn long. It's about time he broke free. Which is exactly why I went along with this plan of yours."

“I’m glad you did. Jack’s felt so guilty about actually developing feelings for Rye that he’s convinced himself that it’s wrong to flirt with her.” She takes a sip of her champagne. “When he breaks, it’ll be entertaining.”

"Entertaining for all of us." Grinning, Champ holds his glass out to his partner in crime in salute. "I sure as hell hope it happens right here for all of us to see."

Unaware that he’s being plotted against, Jack continues to hold you in his arms, taking you around the dance floor and trying to keep from asking too many questions that would potentially ruin his easy relationship with you. “Have you had fun? Other than Vodka? Your feet have to be killin’ you, all the dances you’ve been movin’ to.”

“It’s alright, I’ll have a hot bath and soak them. Aside from the one little interruption, everything’s been so nice.” This is the best part, without a doubt. Attention from other people is a novelty, the compliments and laughter a kind change of pace. But any time spent with Jack will always out do any other experience.

“A nice hot soak and a drink is always good to unwind.” Jack hums. “If other activities aren’t available.” The comment is warm, almost suggestive as he twists you around and then pulls you close again, feeling your softness against him and enjoying it.

It’s the worst kind of gut punch, hearing a comment like that from Jack, and your eyes are downcast when you curl back into his arms. It’s too unkind to be deliberate, but at the same time it’s such a careless comment that you just want to scream. He would never be intentionally cruel to you but the flirtatious tone of the comment is too much. “Maybe I should’ve gone with Vodka, then.”

Jack stiffens, frowning immediately and his blood pressure rises in anger. “What the fuck?” He hisses, the moment making him grip you tighter, almost the point of hurting you. “Why- you?” He’s at a loss for words right now.

“Well it’s the only offer I’ve gotten in…a year? Maybe more?” You shrug dismissively but his grip on you doesn’t allow for it, making your tone turn even more bitter in the process. He doesn’t get to get mad about who offers when he has no interest in himself. “Definitely more than a year, now that I think about it.”

“That wasn’t a goddamn offer.” He snorts. “It was a cowboy playin’ grab ass when his partner wasn’t willing.” He reminds you, dark eyes flashing angrily. “Otherwise known as assault.”

“And yet it’s still the only time any man has looked at me twice in more than a calendar year,” you hit back, practically hissing under your breath as embarrassed tears sting at your eyes. “Nobody’s exactly lining up to spend time with the fat girl except tonight which is Ginger’s doing. I know it is.” (edited)

The two of you are hissing back and forth, so preoccupied with your emotions that neither one of you are aware of the fact that the countdown for midnight has begun. The crowd around you starts to chant down from ten but Jack's too busy growling at you in anger. "Why are you so fuckin' quick to insult every goddamn person who decided to dance with you?"

“Because I know I’m right.” The two of you have never once torn into each other like this and while it breaks you’re heart, you’re so angry that lashing out is happening by instinct. It hurts so much more to be doubted by him and you can’t even express why. It’s devastating. “Do you even know what assignments they give me, Jack?” You hiss back, not hearing the shouts around you. “The ones where they need someone to be invisible! If they need someone plain and ignorable, they come straight to me. Do you know how much that fucking hurts? Because I’m good at it and that’s even worse than them just assuming. I’m excellent at not being noticed. At not being desired. It’s my fucking superpower. So no, I don’t think for a second that any of these dances were genuine moments of interest or offers for literally anything else. Because why would they be?”

His heart breaks and he's simultaneously enraged that you view yourself that way. "Five! Four! Thr—" He reaches up and grabs the back of your neck to yank you forward so your nose is less than an inch from his own. "You want a goddamn offer?" He snarls, losing all sense of reason when it comes to you and ready to prove how wrong you are. "Here's your fuckin' offer." Without another word, he drags you forward to plaster his lips against yours in an angry kiss.

It should feel terrible. It should make you so angry you slap him. It should make you feel a hell of a lot of nasty things, but instead what you feel is the undeniable melting of your own self against him, finally getting the only thing you’ve wanted since the day this infuriating cowboy sauntered into your life. Jack is firm under your hands, burning hot and intoxicatingly inviting in the way he does not pull away. You must have gotten so mad you blacked out, because this is impossible.

When you don’t push him away, when you don’t slap him, Jack growls. Using the soft sigh that you give to deepen the kiss, sliding his tongue into your mouth with another groan as the cheers and sing of Auld Lang Syne happens all around the two of you.

Either you’ve burst a blood vessel from being so angry and ashamed or this is the best dream you’ve ever had. Jack wraps both of his arms tight around you and you cling to him, fists dig into the arm of his suit jacket and the hair on the nape of his neck as you silently beg this hallucination never to end. You can live and die in this moment and tell yourself that it was more than a dream. You can imagine this is exactly how fiercely Jack kisses when he really wants to. When he wants someone.

The kiss has turned from an angry mashing of his lips against yours to a passionate mingling of your breath and tongues. You whimper and his entire body tighten with need. Overriding the portion of his brain that is screaming that this is a bad idea, that he is bad for you and continuing to kiss you as everyone else has moved into dancing now.

Neither one of you has realized that his hat has been knocked off, or that he’s drawn you so close your back has bowed, or even that you’ve entirely given up on needing to breathe in order to never have to stop kissing him. Years of repressed desire and soul-crushingly unrequited love are just being poured into every second you spend drowning in this impossible fantasy.

“Well damn.” Champ chuckles from his position on the dance floor with his lovely wife. “Didn’t expect that long of a show. Boy don’t stop soon, he’s gonna devour her right there in the middle of the floor.”

“That’s what happens when you repress your feelings for six goddamn years,” Ginger snorts in amusement. “Should I go interrupt them?”

“No.” Champ decides with a shake of his silvery head. “Leave ‘em. Don’t want the boy to get spooked before he makes up his mind what’s gonna happen next.”

“And he will.” Ginger agrees with that completely. Jack spooks faster than a newborn foal.

“He would, where she’s concerned. Boy has his heart in it and he’s been fightin’ it.” Champ agrees as his wife chuckles. “He will figure it out.” She promises. “Rye won’t let him walk away from this with a smile and a handshake.”

“I think she’d rather die than let him go, at this rate.” The smile on Ginger’s face is soft. Glad that her friend is finally getting everything she — you — have ever wanted. It really is only oxygen that makes the two of you pull apart, panting for breath with fingers curled into each other’s flesh and clothes like you’re hanging on for dear life.

Jack’s eyes are dark and searching as he looks at you. Looking for the answer to a question and when he finds what he’s looking for, he grabs your hand and starts to drag you off the dance floor.

“Jack?” The realization that that really just happened ignites a small panic in your chest and a riot in your mind, and the fact that Jack hasn’t let go of you or run off in disgust is only confusing you more.

He doesn’t speak, he can’t speak right now. The people on the floor just seem to part, moving out of his way as he guides you off the floor. He does squeeze your hand though.

“Jack?” The longer he goes without saying anything the higher the panic rises, but you cling to his hand all the way to the front door of Champ’s house where the front room has been transformed into a coat closet.

Jack doesn’t answer and spins you around to press you up against the wall, kissing you again. “Get your fuckin’ coat.” He demands roughly.

It’s a much briefer kiss but it leaves you breathless all the same, and the determination in his eyes makes you shiver and rush to obey. If this is what you’re going to get with him — just a few demanding kisses before he decides it was a mistake and turns you away? Then you’ll take it.

His hat is missing, Jack realizes when he goes to readjust it and frowns. Patting his head and looking around to see if it fell off around here, but it’s nowhere in sight. It’s a small price to pay, but he runs his hand through his hair as you rush back to his side. “We’re leaving.”

He doesn’t seem angry, but for the life of you there is no version of tonight that goes any further. Not in your mind. A conversation about how you shouldn’t have kissed him — or at least kissed him back, since you have a dim memory of his hand pulling you to him right before your mind went blank — or at least about how it was a mistake is bound to follow.

The second your hand is in his again, Jack is dragging you through the doors and down the stairs of the house to his Bronco. He’s parked close, thank god and he can barely get the door open before he’s grabbing your waist and practically throwing you up into the seat.

It shouldn't be a thrill to be lifted up and tossed around as though you weigh next to nothing, but there is something in Jack's singular determination and focus that tells you not to question or fight it. If he wants to manhandle you a little before whatever uncomfortable confrontation is bound to happen? Well, it's not as though you haven't literally fantasized about that scenario. At least now you have a frame of reference.

He’s holding onto his control, barely. Racing around the front of the vehicle and jumping in beside you. He can’t even talk to you as he starts the engine. Thankful that his place isn’t too far away as he throws the Bronco into gear and slings gravel as he spins out.

The most surprising part might be that he reaches for your hand as he drives. His fingers curl through yours and hold onto you on top of the gear shift, not letting you do your usual thing of shifting away or curling in on yourself in uncertainty.

There’s only two miles left to go. He grunts as he slows down to make the turn and your hand moves the shifter with him, making sure that he doesn’t squeeze it too hard as he goes through the gears.

He's driving to his own house. You've done this route yourself more times than you can count for a thousand different reasons. The apartment that you rent with your ample Statesman salary is well on the other side of Louisville and Ginger lives closer to you than to Jack, so it's not like you have any doubt where he's headed. When he pulls the Bronco down his long and winding driveway toward the large farmhouse he's called home for a decade already, your hand tightens slightly in his, nervous and wondering what will come next.

When he cuts the engine, there’s a half a second before he opens the door. Almost speaking but he doesn’t. Instead, he’s climbing out to walk around the truck to open the door.

"I wish you would say something." Even if he's helping you out of the car and holding onto your hand, you can't figure out what's going on in his head. Not having any clue is making you a little panicky the longer it goes on.

Jack stops, two steps away from the path to the front door. “Do you want to come inside?” There’s a fear that you don’t want this. That you are not on the same page as he is.

He's not angry. Or upset anymore, that you can tell. But the determination in his gaze is still there for something that you can't quite put your finger on. "Yes," you decide, nodding as you step toward both him and the house. "I do." Whatever happens, you're hopeful it won't be bad.

You said yes. Your words spur him on again and he’s off like a shot, dragging you behind him. The biometric lock is a godsend. There’s no fumbling for a key at the door as he hustles you inside and slams it behind you both, pressing you against it as he attempts to devour your mouth once more.

This was not the reaction you expected. Not in any way. Not even when he had kissed you twice at Champ’s house before hauling you over to his place with the fires of hell scorching his toes. Anybody else might have read the signals, but not you. Not with the surprised squeal you let out or the soft moan that follows it — both completely outside of your control.

You’re alone now and this time, Jack doesn’t keep his hands on your waist. Both hands grab firm handfuls of your delightful round ass and squeezes as he presses into you. His painfully hard cock grinding into the soft pouches of your hips.

Because of the complete blanket of disbelief you're living under, it takes you longer than you're proud of or will ever admit to realize what is pressing against your hip. It's the first throbbing twitch from under his perfectly tailored suit that has your eyes flying open and both of your hands pressing firmly on his shoulders, breaking the kiss as you gasp in surprise.

“What- I thought-“ Jack’s frown is one of utter confusion as he drops his hands and steps back from you. Hating the feeling of rejection and suddenly wondering if he’s made a fucking fool of himself by getting twisted in knots by a woman who doesn’t actually want him. “‘m sorry.”

"Why?" The incredulous question is out of your mouth before you can stop it, and the confusion marring both of your faces makes you suck in a deep breath. "I—I just—I'm surprised," you admit, as damned foolish as that makes you sound. Fucking shocked is what you are, but you don't want to be labor the point and ruin whatever is happening.

He feels foolish and embarrassed, like he’s been caught with his hand in a candy jar. Reaching up and running his hand through his hair, he blows out a breath. “You said you wanted to come in.” He reasons. “I- what did you think would happen?”

"I—I don't know," you admit, feeling even more ridiculous than he does. Your back is still against his front door, crying out loud. "I ruled out you still being mad at me after you kissed me again but I didn't think..." Gesturing at him lamely, you blow out a breath and rub at the back of your neck. "I'm not saying I want to stop, I was just surprised." If this is the only chance you're going to get with him? You're going to take it and run with it as long as it lasts.

He frowns again, wondering how you could want him and yet be surprised when he wants to take you to bed. “So what do you want, sugar? Because I’m feeling like a penny at the bottom of a pan, rattled.”

The expression cracks the tension, at least for you, and an unexpectedly bright and beaming smile graces your lips as you reach for him boldly and find to your own delight and continued surprise that he doesn't draw away. "What I want is...a long shot." It's more than that, but you're downplaying your own fears to a rather extreme degree right now. Trying to be brave. "But...what are the odds you were thinkin' about taking me upstairs?"

“House odds.” Jack rasps out, knowing that the odds are always in the house’s favor when playing at a casino. “Pondered the idea of strippin’ you down right here and making you squeal against the door, but then tossin’ you over my shoulder and haulin’ you to my large, luxurious bed also has its merits.”

You genuinely have to shut your eyes to steady yourself, exhaling long and deep and praying you aren't actually moaning out loud like you are in your head. As it stands, both images he paints have your knees weak and your body shivering. "Eith—um—either one," you manage to stammer out, eyelashes parting so hesitantly that they flutter like wings. "Either one is good."

“Sexy as you look, sugar….” Now that he knows that you are on the same page as him, a little bit of the cocky swagger is back. “Thinkin’ it’d be a goddamn shame not to spread you out.” Despite your stature, Jack tucks his shoulder and scoops you up over his shoulder like you weigh nothing, bolting for the stairs.

"Holy hell, Jack!" A nervous shout and a squeak escape you when he picks you up, and you cling to his jacket as he carries you through the house you've visited innumerable times before.

Chuckling, Jack slaps your ass with his free hand as he ambles up the stairs easily. “Don’t be nervous, sugar, I won’t drop you.”

This time you definitely do moan out loud, too taken by surprise to stop the sound or swallow it before it can come out of your mouth and you know Jack heard.

He grins to himself, slapping your ass again and is rewarded with another moan. “Mmmmhm.” He chuckles. “Rye likes a little bit of light spanking. Noted.”

"Pretty sure I'll like anything you do," you admit ruefully, though you're quickly feeling the constraints of embarrassment fall away as he reaches his bedroom door. This is real. This is really happening.

"I'll keep that in mind when I hogtie you to the bed and lick whipped cream off your body." He teases, kicking open the slightly ajar door and striding into the room to toss you down on the bed like a character in a romance novel. Right now, he doesn't know if he's supposed to be the hero or the villain, feeling a bit like both as his rough handling of you as him immediately reaching for your ankles to pull off your shoes in his eagerness to see you naked in his bed.

“See?” You huff at him, heavy breathing coming from nothing but an undeniable surplus of desire. “That actually sounds sexy coming from you.” Everything does, but his quick fingers are divesting you of your shoes and that reminds you how your Spanx is part of this undressing process — which is the single least sexy thing in the world.

Jack rips off his tuxedo jacket and tosses it down on the floor. Climbing up onto the bed and over you to press against you fully, pinning you down to the bed with a groan. Quickly capturing your lips again in a frenzied kiss.

It makes no damn sense to you, but you’re not going to question it anymore. If Jack could have literally anyone in the world but for tonight he chooses you, then you’re just going to make sure he doesn’t regret it. That decision on your part sort of pulls you out of your nervous shock, and all at once your hands are pulling open his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt with enthusiasm.

“There we go.” Jack groans when you stop acting shocked and start acting. Your hands on his body makes him shake and he can’t help but rock his hips forward. “Sugar.”

He could probably call you whatever he wanted and you would just go with it, but hearing him call you Sugar — that sickly sweet name he favors so much yet seems to bestow on you so rarely? It feels like you might melt so deeply into his plush mattress that you will never get up again.

Moving from your lips takes sheer willpower but he wants to explore more of you. One hand bracing on the bed and the other sliding up to squeeze your breast as he kisses down your chin and to the soft, vulnerable skin of your throat. “Driving me crazy, baby girl.” He coos, voice rough and lusty. “So goddamn pretty.”

No one who has ever met Jack would be surprised to learn how mouthy the cowboy is in bed. He’s mouthy in every other aspect of his life so frankly it would be pretty strange if this was the exception. Still, to hear those words said to you is beyond your wildest dreams. It’s surreal in the most sensational of ways. Even when you had dreamed of being with Jack, you had never dreamed of him praising you.

He groans when your fingernails bite into the skin on his chest as you hastily push the shirt opened. “Tigress, huh?” He growls, squeezing your tit again, a little harder this time and his hard cock pulses against your inner thigh. “Don’t worry, sugar. I’m just as goddamn eager as you. But ‘ole Jack likes a bit of wildness.” He bites down on your shoulder as he chuckles. “We’ll have ourselves one hell of a rodeo tonight.”

If you even knew where half this boldness came from, you might be a little embarrassed. But given the fact that you never thought this would happen, it mostly just feels like you're telling yourself not to waste the chance. Lightning never strikes the same place twice and this is your lightning strike, so you're going to lean into the whole thing if that's what he really wants. Your nails strike a path down his chest but get caught in his undershirt, a fact which makes you huff in frustration and search blindly for the hem to tear off that layer of clothing as well.

Jack groans and finally decides to give you what you want. Pulling back long enough to finish pulling his arms out of the shirt sleeves, he tears the undershirt off and throws it off the side of the bed to reveal his chest. Unable to resist pulling your dress down to pop your breast out and diving back down to wrap his mouth around a nipple.

"Oh fuck." It's a move you weren't expecting, but your back arches off the mattress instinctively to push your chest up and invite him to take and take and take — just as much as he wants to. If you were coherent enough to suggest it you would try to start wiggling out of your dress but as it is the only thing you can focus on is the heat of him surrounding you and the way every place he kisses you seems to catch on fire immediately at the press of his lips.

He suckles, bites and then licks the hard nub in his mouth like he’s gorging himself on you. Because he is. Hands searching for the zipper to your gorgeous dress. It’s beautiful, but it needs to be beautiful on his floor.

"If you want it off, you have to let me sit up," you manage to huff out, barely able to do more than pant at the way he's clearly trying to devour your tits first.

Groaning in protest, his lips are twisting in a pout as he pulls away. Panting breathlessly as he itches to launch himself at you again. “Hurry up, sugar.”

Your hands are shaking when you reach for the zipper, pulling it down and carefully undoing the clasp at the top before letting the heavily sequined cocktail dress slip off of your arms so you can maneuver it over your head. Half-naked in Jack's bed with panties so soaked you could probably wring them out is not how you expected to end this night, but here you are.

“Fuck.” Jack frowns at the tight shapewear he’s met with. “My present’s a little too wrapped for my liking, baby girl.” He hisses, curling his fingers under the layer to start stripping it off of you. “Want you naked.”

"It was the only way that dress was gonna look halfway decent," you mumble, shifting under him and definitely avoiding looking him in the face while he peels the Spanx off of you. It's a little bit too intimate even for the man you've wanted to be intimate with for years — to the point of making you feel completely naked even when you still have your bra and panties on.

He scoffs, nearly ready to whip his knife out and start slicing the material. “Bullshit.” He huffs, happy there’s just the bra and he uses two fingers to flick the four hooks open. “You don’t need nothin’.” Instead of explaining, he’s diving back into your tits while one hand dips into your panties.

“Fuck, Jack!” Instead of a tight reaction of shock, this time he’s rewarded with a moan and your legs falling open for him as the fingers of one hand dig through his thick hair to scratch along the base of his scalp. If he wants you to be bold, you’ll be bold. You’ll be whatever Jack wants as long as you just get to be in his bed for one night.

Jack moans against your tits, incredibly turned on by the pure moxy he’s always loved in you. Despite your utterly untrue view on yourself, you are sassy, sweet and sexy. That’s why he’s unable to resist now that he’s tasted you. Once he’s teased one breast enough, he switches to the other. “Gonna eat you up, sugar. Devour you whole.”

"All yours." It's sort of unintentional, the vow-like nature of the thing, but you're just being honest. You've really been Jack's since the day you met him. Even if it's taken so many damn years to get the two of you into this situation together, it's still the truth. "Whatever you want, handsome."

He groans, fingers sliding through the sweet slick that is covering your folds. “Want you.” He mumbles as he starts to slide his finger deeper, pressing against your entrance.

It's not even in your mind to ask why when he's splitting you open on two thick fingers like that, and you swear if that's how this night is starting you might actually ascend directly to some higher plain if you get to actual sex. "Ha—fuck— you have me."

“Mmmmmm.” He licks your nipple “Not yet.” He pouts, pulling his fingers back out of you to plunge them in again. “But I will, sugar. Cum for me and then I’ll have you like I’ve been dreamin’.”

The curse you groan out is nearly incoherent, more of an agreement than anything else but you'll be damned if you let this moment be anything less than memorable for both of you. Jack hovers over you and you wind your arms around him to encourage him to continue sucking on your tits while his fingers piston in and out of your pussy with determination. You know it won't take too much longer before your legs start to shake, and as if Jack knows it just as intuitively, he curls his fingers inside you and you gasp out a moan of his name.

His teeth nip at your sensitive flesh as he hisses. Feeling how tight your pussy squeezes his fingers and imagines his cock inside you. Tight and fucking scorching hot, just like he had imagined with his hand wrapped around his cock in the shower. “That’s it, pretty girl.” He coos before he sucks on your nipple again. Moaning when you arch up, writhing under him and making the prettiest, most desperate sounds he’s heard in a long time.

No one who has ever been in this bed has ever left it with any remaining doubts about Jack’s skills as a lover, and while you knew that before? Now you understand it oh-so-very deeply. His fingers pump into you mercilessly, curling at just the right angle to make you cry out in pleasure in every pass, and yet somehow he’s managed to keep the angle of that curl perfect while still holding them apart — stretching your eager pussy open and making sure you’re ready to take every inch of him. All of those intricacies combine with the dedication attention he is lavishing on your tits, and when the tense coil of restraint in your belly snaps it explodes into a thousand white-hot stars behind your eyes as you cum for him.

You’re gorgeous when you fall apart, just like he knew you would be. Keeping his fingers moving, he watches, enthralled with you as you cry out his name in a pitch that has his cock throbbing. The hot gush of your pleasure makes his fingers squelch inside you and he groans out your name while he starts to slow down the rhythm of his hand, letting you float down from your orgasm, drawing it out for you.

“Holy hell…” When your eyes open again you’re completely boneless beneath him, giggling softly at the light-as-air feeling in your body that never ever feels lighter than anything.

Dragging his wet fingers out of your cunt is his own personal kind of hell, but the urge to taste you is too great. Watching you with dark eyes as he slips his two fingers into his mouth with a lusty groan.

“Take your pants off.” The way you groan it is nearly an order but you definitely meant it to be begging, though at this point you don’t care. Especially when he arches an eyebrow at you and smirks. “Take your fucking pants off, Jack.”

Chuckling, he shuffles off the bed to oblige you. “Never let it be said I don’t follow orders, sugar.” He winks as he kicks off the tuxedo pants and hooks his fingers into his boxer briefs. “These too?”

“The fact that you even wear underwear is a shock,” you tease, motioning for him to continue stripping and trying — but probably not succeeding — to not stare.

He smirks. “Had to contain the beast for once.” He winks as he drags the tight material down. “Don’t wear ‘em normally.”

The Beast is probably as good a name as any, and you have to swallow a groan when he frees his throbbing cock — already damp with precum. It’s a wonder he can contain it, and you’re caught in between wanting to bend forward and taste him or just lying back for him to have his way with you. Curiosity and a curtain of lust win out on the short struggle, and you lean forward to take the purple head of his cock in your mouth just after he climbs back onto the bed.

“Fuck!” Jack moans out loudly and pushes your head away gently after a moment. “Baby, baby…” he pants. “You keep that up and this rodeo will be over before it starts.”

“Sorry…” Embarrassment burns your cheeks, and you shift back to get under his blankets. “I just had to know…”

“Nothing to be sorry for.” Jack huffs. Kneeling on the bed and pulling the covers away as you hide your body away from his eyes. “Just don’t want to embarrass myself by blowing my load because of your pretty mouth before I can hear you scream my name.”

“I already have,” you remind him, a softness in your tone belied by the heat in both of your eyes. “Guess I might have to be a little louder this time.”

“Only if it’s right in my ear.” Jack wraps his hand around his cock and strokes it as he reaches for your thigh. “Buried deep inside that little cunt and feeling like I’ve died and gone to heaven.”

It goes without saying that you’re both clean. All Statesman agents are required to have clean bills of health in order to be on the roster for missions and you’re both active agents. “I—have an IUD.” Is what you tell him instead, shivering a little at the reality of what is about to happen.

Eyes lighting up in delight, Jack’s lips curl up. “Oh sugar, it’s not my birthday yet, why are you showerin’ me with presents?” He coos, sliding his hand up and down your ample thigh. “Pretty as a damn picture.”

The real answer is that you’re desperate to feel him, but you just smirk instead, not wanting to get your heart more involved than it already is. “Because I don’t have a condom and I’ll be damned if we stop now because of it.”

“If you want me to get one…” Jack motions back to his pants. “I have one in my wallet.”

“I don’t want the barrier,” you admit, biting your lip at the extremely vulnerable nature of that confession. “If it’s okay with you.”

His smirk turns into a wicked grin. “You read my mind, sugar. I want to feel all of you.”

You could make a joke about how much of you there is to feel, but just this once you stifle the urge. Opting instead to reach out and gently cup Jack's cheeks in both of your hands before pressing a soft, earnest kiss to his lips. "Then what are you waiting for, Cowboy?”

As you lean back, Jack follows you. Climbing up your body and groaning as he settles between your thighs. “You want to cum again, pretty girl?”

"Not without you this time." The reality of Jack is better than anything you thought so far. Since this miracle is surely once in a lifetime, you want it to be as amazing as possible.

Jack groans your name, pressing his lips to yours in another hot, wet kiss. Passionate and consuming as he pushes an arm underneath you. “I’m right here with you.”

As impossible as it seems, he really is. He is right there with you, taking you in his arms and making you feel delicate and desirable for the first real time in your entire adult life.

He doesn’t rush, although he wants to. Every kiss is slow and thorough. Reaching down between you to take hold of himself to notch at your entrance. “Hold on, sugar. See if we can ride for longer than eight seconds.”

“I’m not gonna buck you, Jack.” You can promise him that, because you know damn well you’re going to hold onto this moment for dear life and not question the gift that it is. This one little shining moment is just for the two of you and you’re never going to forget a single second of it.

His eyes are watching, burning into yours as he starts to slowly rock his hips forward. Breaking you open with the first inch of his cock and swooping in to kiss you again when you gasp.

The world slows down, motions stretching into time and blending together in ways that you can’t quite wrap your head around so all you know in this moment is Jack. Every time he thrusts forward again your moans get that much deeper, until on the final experimental rock of his hips, he is seated fully inside you and you feel so spellbound and grateful for the moment that you’re all but sure you could cry. Instead you pour yourself into kissing him, rocking your own hips slightly to take him more comfortably and adjust to the weighty feeling of having him inside you.

“Fuck, baby girl.” Jack inhales sharply, stealing your breath as he tries to rein himself in, throbbing violently inside you. If it weren’t for the fact that he had promised you a rodeo, he would be cumming, overwhelmed by how hot and tight you are. You’re perfect, just like he always imagined. “You be a good girl and take my cock, m’kay?”

Good girl is another one of those sticking points for you just like getting your ass slapped, and if Jack had no idea before, he certainly does now, from the way your cunt just spasmed around his length and you moaned like you were coming all over again.

“Ohhhhhh.” Jack’s eyes nearly cross and he gives a particularly sharp thrust when you clamp down around him. “You like that.” He pants out. “You’re my good girl?”

“S’not fair,” you huff, throwing him a playful pout that gets cut by another shaky moan. “You’re finding all the buttons I like pushed way too easily.”

“You haven’t - fuck - figured out my buttons yet, sugar?” Jack ducks his head down and slides the arm not underneath you down your hip and thigh to pull it up higher. Sinking deeper into you with a moan of your name.

“Liking to have your cock sucked doesn’t—fuck!— count,” you tell him, back arching as he hits a new angle inside you.

He chuckles and licks at your pulse before he nips at your skin with his teeth. Fingers digging into your pillowy flesh and groans when you clench around him again.

Finding a rhythm is as easy as breathing. Being with him is so much more natural and intuitive than you dreamt it would be. Your natural tendency to be a little rougher is equaled by his enthusiasm for making the bedroom a loud and raucous experience. There’s no hiding from each other or demurring, not once you get going. It’s like something inside you has finally been unlocked after a lifetime of waiting — waiting for Jack to come along with the key that would open you up.

If it surprises Jack that you are wild in bed, it’s probably the best goddamn surprise he’s ever gotten. His back burns from the raking of your nails when he hits deep. He fucking loves it. Your wildness makes him go absolutely feral over you.

It’s the opposite of who you are in everyday life. A version of you just for him. A version of you that leaves your worries outside the circle of your bodies and embraces sex as something carefree. Which, if you’re honest, isn’t really how you’ve felt about sex with anyone besides Jack. (edited)

His lips and teeth map every inch that he can reach as he pumps in and out of you frantically. Trying to keep the pace hard and fast because every time your cunt clenches, his hips stutter from how fucking tight you are. “Fuck, my good girl.” He growls. “So fucking tight.”

“So fucking big,” you give back, starting to pant heavier and more unevenly. There’s a whine forming in the back of your throat that you can’t hold back and you bite down on the juncture of Jack’s shoulder as your legs threaten to shake all over again. You’re so close to cumming but you don’t want this to end.

Jack changes the tempo, slowing down and grinding his pelvis against your clit. “You gonna cum for me, baby girl?” He rasps out. “Cum on Jack’s big ‘ole cock and soak me?”

"So—oh, fuck—close, baby." The way you feel right now, you might actually fall apart at the seams when you cum again, but it will be worth it. It will be worth just knowing first hand how gorgeous Jack looks when he follows you over the edge. "Don't stop. Don't fucking stop, Jack."

“Never.” Jack growls, smashing his teeth together and hissing at the way you claw and writhe under him. It’s like taming a feral cat in a pillowcase and he loves it. Your thighs are crushing his hips and all he can do is imagine them around his head. “Cum for me.”

A half dozen thrusts later, your cunt is clenching down on his cock and pulsing with a fierce orgasm that has your thighs tensing at his waist and your back bowing off the bed. Everything seems to be happening at the top of however it possibly could, and that includes the way you cry his name into the night before collapsing back into his sheets with your arms and legs still around him, willing him to follow you to bliss.

Jack moans your name, pants it again against your lips. His brow knitted in concentration as he tries to last. His body tightening and tensing as his pleasure builds to that almost painful precipice. His heart pounding, but not because of the physical exertion, but because of the almost loving look on your eyes. “Love you.” He moans, right as his lips crash against yours and he breathes it into your mouth again. “Love you.”

You freeze under him, but Jack is too caught in his bliss to tell. Like a bucket of water has been splashed over the bubble of this night and popped that shell keeping you separate from the world. Did he just...? There's no way. There's just absolutely no way at all. You must have imagined it. Wished for it so desperately that you hallucinated the words. Because otherwise you're not quite sure what you'll do — because Jack has never lied to you. But he's also never given you any reason to think your feelings might be requited.

Caught up in his orgasm, Jack rides wave after wave of complete bliss as he empties himself into you, metaphorically and physically. Giving you every bit of himself as he finally acknowledges the truth of why he has always kept you at arms length. His love for you terrifying him, but right now, he’s flying. Collapsing into your arms and panting out your name as he catches his breath.

There's nothing you can do with this shock except bury it, holding him and gently stroking his hair while he catches his breath with his head on your chest. You imagined it, you remind yourself silently, blinking back tears at how much you wish it was true.

The whiskey, the emotions and the exertion have Jack cuddly and sleepy as he comes down from his orgasm. “Fuck, baby girl.” He hums, kissing your neck as he slowly pulls out of you and shifts to your side to roll you over with him. “Wore me out.” He chuckles. “But gave a hell of a ride.”

He tucks you into his arms to be his little spoon, not letting you get away for even a second. Any other time? This would have been thrilling. "Get some sleep, baby." Returning the pet name seems innocent enough, and you reach back to run your fingers through his hair gently. "You earned it."

His eyes are closed when he shoots you a sleepy grin. “Talk when we wake up, sugar.” He promises, fingers stroking your skin softly.

That promise might be why you sleep so fitfully in the night to follow. Why you're so wound up that when your Statesman issued phone chirps from your purse on his floor around 6:30 in the morning, your eyes open immediately. Jack has turned over in the night, sleeping on his back now with one arm still around you but not so tightly that you can't extract yourself to answer the message. That phone is used only for missions and confidential communication, meaning you absolutely cannot ignore it. Incoming Message: Agent Rye report immediately for mission briefing. CODE BLACK. Code Black. You curse under your breath, careful not to wake Jack, and rub one hand down your face in dismay. That level of secrecy in a mission assignment means you can't even wake him up to say goodbye. You're supposed to speak to no one, just proceed immediately to the nearest Statesman branch for your mission briefing. With a sigh and another, more colorful curse, you shake your head and glance back at the bed where Jack is sleeping soundly. There's nothing to do but get dressed and Walk of Shame your ass into the office. You just wish you could wake him up to say goodbye.

It’s been years since Jack has slept so well. Deep and dreamless, none of the nightmares that often plague his rest. The soft scent of you surrounding him and soothing him like nothing he’s had in a long time. When his eyes open, he’s feeling like he’s had the best sleep of his life. Frowning when he doesn’t feel you next to him. Calling out your name softly in case you were in the bathroom. “Rye? Sugar?”

There's no trace of you anywhere. He may as well have come home alone last night, except for the scent of you in the air and the scratches on his back. It's almost an insult when he sees a fallen sequin on the rug where your dress had been tossed.

“Fuck.” Jack’s slipped out of plenty of beds, ducked out and kept walking. The walk of shame was never shameful when there was a little bit of pep to his step, but right now, he’s pissed. Pissed you didn’t have the fucking balls to wake him before you slipped off like a thief in the night. Snatching up his pants, he digs into the pocket for his phone, dialing your number and ready to have it out with you.

"Hi! Sorry I can't come to the phone right now. Please leave a message and I'll call you back as soon as I'm able!" Your voicemail message is insultingly chipper when it picks up right away, almost taunting him. Like you aren't willing to talk, when nothing could be farther from the truth.

“Fuck!” Jack shouts, throwing the phone and scowling angrily. Pissed that you aren’t here, that you apparently don’t want to talk to him. “Fine, you regret it? Fuck you too.” He growls and stomps into the bathroom to shower. If you wanted nothing to do with him after he had let down his walls last night, he wants nothing to do with you either.

******

"What's got you all chewed up and spat out today?" Tequila raises an eyebrow at Jack when he comes huffing into the office, a little late and a lot pissed off. He had expected Jack to be in a stellar mood.

“Not a goddamn thing.” Even though his feathers are ruffled, Jack practically refuses to even think about you. To the point where he had thrown the sheets and the costly Tom Ford tuxedo away. “Whadda we got?” Desperate to concentrate on a mission, he jumps straight into business.

"Wingman prep." Tequila tells him, tapping the folder on his own desktop. "Somebody got tapped this morning and Champ wants us to comb some old mission files to prep for an extraction. Plan B sorta shit." And since all of the mission-ready agents on the Statesman payroll are top notch with years of experience under their belts, anyone potentially needing an extraction from a mission is a big fucking deal.

“Who got tapped?” Jack asks, grabbing a file and flipping it open with a frown on his face. “Scotch?”

"I thought you'd know already." Tequila's eyes snap back up to Jack in concern. "It was Rye."

Jack freezes and slowly lifts his eyes from the file to find Tequila frowning at him, confused by how he doesn’t know. “Why would I know that?” Jack asks after a moment. It explains why your phone was off, but you had still slipped out without saying a fucking word.

"Because...you went home with her last night?" Everybody knows that you and Jack left the party. Absolutely everyone. There was a whole extra celebration after you left. "Figured you woulda known by her getting up this morning and all."

There’s a split second where Jack wants to snap that you had left him to wake up alone, but he doesn’t. What comes out of his mouth instead, is to deny the whole thing. “Took her home.” Jack shrugs, lying easily as if he couldn’t care less. “She wanted to soak in a bath and read some book.”

The frown on Tequila's face deepens measurably, pure confusion marring his usually chipper face. "Bullshit," he huffs, leaning back in his desk chair. "I saw you kiss her. No way."

“Believe what you want.” Jack snaps flatly. “Where are we in planning the back up plans?” The hurt is soothed slightly by you being called away, but it doesn’t make it nonexistent. You hadn’t even left a goddamn message for him. He could have seen not waking him if you had left some sign that you didn’t regret the night even happened.

"Early stages." Knowing better than to poke the dragon when he's mad about something, Tequila defers to work like Jack clearly wants. "Tell me what you think, but I think me on the ground and you in the Silver Pony is the best bet." Whatever happened between you and Jack, the man is clearly hurt, and Tequila makes a note to go and talk to Ginger when he gets his next chance. If you had said anything to anyone, it would be to her.

“Whatever.” Jack practically rolls his eyes and shrugs. Usually he loves the opportunity to fly and show off in the Silver Pony, but he’s so worked up over you that he doesn’t even bat an eyelash. “Guess that’s the plan. If needed.”

“If needed.” All Tequila does is nod, but damn he really needs to talk to Ginger.

******

Jack holes up in his office, barely answering the phone and not leaving it all day, not even for lunch. Catching up on paperwork that is normally never done as he works through not being at home. Not remembering how you tasted and sounded last night. He’s even refused to pull up your camera footage, not wanting to see what you are doing. He’s miserable and is determined to stay that way.

“Thought I’d find you in here.” Champ’s gruff voice cuts through the silence long after everyone else has gone home for the night. He knew exactly where Jack would be. Especially after Tequila said the senior agent was out of sorts. “Come up to my office, Jack. We’re gonna have a drink.” It’s not a suggestion or a request. This is a direct order from this commander, and Champ turns around and heads back down the hall knowing Jack will follow.

Jack sighs and sets his pen down, ripping the reading glasses off his face and tossing them down on the folder. He had stayed cooped up in his office so he didn’t take his bad mood out on anyone so he doesn’t see why he needs to be called out onto the carpet. Still, he pushes back from his desk and follows the older man to the conference room Champ preferred over his official office. The bar cart in here was better stocked.

“Pick your poison.” Champ tells him, motioning for Jack to sit down at the conference table as he strolls over to the cart to grab a bottle and two glasses.

“Whatever your havin’.” Jack wonders what this is about, but he doesn’t ask. Just waits patiently for his boss to get to the reason in his own sweet time.

Champ grunts slightly, grabbing a bottle of ‘74 Reserve, and brings it to the table. He pours two fingers in each glass and slides one over to set in front of Jack before sitting down beside him and taking a sip from his own glass. “You’ve been hidin’ today,” he assesses after a moment of silence. “But I hear you damn near took Tequila’s head off this morning when you got in.”

“Can’t have a bad day?” Jack asks, picking up the whiskey and staring at it before taking a sip. “Woke up wrong, that’s all. I’ll apologize to the crybaby later.”

“He’s not a damn crybaby,” Champ huffs, covering his own amusement with a scowl. “I walked by your damn office, fool. And when he did come talk to me about it, it was because he was worried about you.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jack scowls and shakes his head. “I had a bad morning. I’m fine. Not gonna go off and try to kill all the drug users again.”

“Not saying you would.” Holding up his hands in a show of innocence, Champ leans back all the way and stares down his nose at Jack for a second longer before he shakes his head and shrugs. “But between you and me just these walls? Just thought you might wanna know that Rye got sent off Code Black, is all.” He isn’t supposed to say. Black is black. It’s too priority and top security. But you’d been so torn up this morning and Jack’s been so out of sorts in his own way that Champ has rightfully assumed that something fairly big must’ve happened after you left the party.

His jaw nearly drops. Champ never gives information away like that. He frowns, looking back down at his glass again and feeling relieved. If you had gotten a Code Black, you couldn’t wake him up. It would have been against protocol. He swallows and finally nods. “Good to know.”

“Just don’t want you stewing over it.” The older man says, watching carefully as he sips from his glass again. “You wanna be upset with anyone, it’s me. Not her.”

“Right.” Jack drains the rest of the whiskey and the crystal hits the table slightly harder than normal. “Anything else?”

“Nah. That’s it.” There’s nothing more that Champ can really say, and now Jack needs to process. That’s just how these things work. “See ya in the morning, Daniels.”

Jack stands. “‘Night, Champ.” He walks out of the room and back down the hall towards his office, looking down at his feet as he goes.

******

It’s two weeks before Tequila and Jack are given a stand-down order and told their rescue mission won’t be necessary. Mission success, they’re told with authority, even though it took longer than expected. They don’t get more than that, though, and Jack is walking past Ginger’s lab on his way out of the office late that night when he hears your voice again for the first time in weeks. It’s tired, and quiet, but unmistakable. “Can we just get this over with, Ging?” You ask your friend quietly, knowing that decontamination and a full physical are extremely necessary considering where you’ve been and what you’ve been doing. But you want to get the hell out of here and finally go talk to Jack.

He would never admit it, but he’s been living at Statesman. Barely going home to change and often refreshing the outfits that he keeps in his office for unexpected late nights. On call the entire time in case you needed him. Now you are here and Jack feels like running away. So much self doubt had built up over two weeks, he’s driven himself crazy over every little thing. Obsessing over the details of New Years.

“Once you have a clean bill of health, you go storm the ranch or whatever it is you’re going to do.” Ginger teases, full of warmth. “But I would try his office first.”

Jack frowns slightly and wonders what the hell Ginger is talking about, storming the ranch. He almost pushes the door open, but he doesn’t. Just wants to see what you will say if you know that he’s not listening.

“It’s been two weeks, Ging.” The pops and hums and beeps of her equipment punctuate your voice from inside the lab. “Every single second I haven’t been thinking about this mission I’ve been reliving that night. And I could kill Champ for sending me away Code fucking Black before I could even tell Jack how I feel about him.”

“I know it was bad timing.” He hears Ginger sigh. “But hopefully it gave you some time to think about what you’re going to say?”

Jack’s stomach twists and he feels nauseous. Wondering if you’ve decided that it was a mistake. He swallows harshly and whirls around, not wanting to hear how you plan on letting him down or friend zoning him.

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” he misses hearing you say. “That I’ve been in love with him for six years, and that I’m done being a coward about it.” This mission so easily could have killed you every single day that it became something of an eye opener. Getting back to Jack had become the most dominant and driving force in your mind at times.

Walking down to his office has Jack twisted in knots. He’s never been a coward before but he damn sure feels like running. Playing back that night in his head over and over had made him realize what he had said. More importantly, what you hadn’t said back. Walking over to his bar cart, he pours himself a heavy double and bolts it down. He’ll get wasted after you crush his hopes but that was needed so he doesn’t beg like a pathetic wretch. He needs to keep his pride somehow.

It’s twenty more minutes before he hears footsteps in the hall and hears your tentative voice calling his name. “Jack?” There’s nerves in it, anxiety hovering around you despite your triumphant mission. But you appear in his doorway looking worried and chewing your lip. “Hey…you’re still here.”

“Work’s never done.” Jack huffs, plastering on a friendly but not too friendly expression. “Haven’t seen you around in a few weeks. Mission go alright?” It’s painful to see you in that doorway, looking tired and beautiful. Reminding him of how you looked before he had fallen asleep and lost you.

“I’m home and in one piece.” It’s what you always say, but at least it’s true. He doesn’t exactly look happy to see you, though, and that makes you falter a little. Not enough to shake your resolve, but your optimism that he’ll respond with joy cracks right away. “Do you…can we talk a little?”

“Sure.” He takes off his reading glasses and stands. Moving over to the alcohol again. “Want a drink?” He asks, not looking over his shoulder at you. He sees the worry on your face and knows you are concerned about your working relationship. What he will do will be accept your wants, wish you well and promise that he will not let what happened affect your professional relationship. Then he will demand a transfer to the New York office, permanently. You nod and he pours out two drinks. “What’s on your mind, Rye?”

“Well…you are.” It seems like such an obvious answer that it almost feels silly saying it, but he won’t even look you in the eye so staring at the beginning seems like a good idea.

“Oh?” Turning around is hard, but he manages to look curious instead of sick to his stomach. “Now why would I be on your mind, sugar?” The endearment slips out and he nearly bites his tongue as he carries them over to the small sofa area.

The message is loud and clear: it really didn’t mean anything to him. Regardless, though, you have to power through. If he really didn’t mean what he said and has no interest in being with you, you’ll request a permanent transfer. Chicago, Dallas, Los Angeles — anywhere but here or New York. Swallowing a sigh, you accept the glass from him but just hold it in your hands while you gather your thoughts. “I’m sorry we didn’t get to talk before I had to leave,” you start, trying not to let the warmth and proximity of him get under your skin so easily. But you can’t really help it. “I did the best I could for a message to let you know what had happened, but it wasn’t much. And I’m sorry for that, too.”

His facade cracks, the scowl as quick to vanish as it appears and he scoffs. “Message received, Rye. A lone sequin on the floor. Practically like it was a dream, except for that.” He tosses back the whiskey. “Can you just get to the part where you tell me it was a mistake, you don’t want to ruin our friendship or work relationship? Or whatever bullshit excuse you’ve settled on to tell me you regret it?” His eyes are dark and pained when they finally land on you, barely resisting the urge to flee.

“On the floor?” Your brow furrowed instantly, a frown painting itself on your lips, and you set the glass in your hands aside to shift closer to him on the little couch. “Jack, I left a sequin on your nightstand.” The choice was even more horrible than you had worried it would be, apparently, because he looks so hurt he could actually cry. A fact which makes you instantly want to cry as well. “A black sequin was the best I could do for a signal. It—it must have…blown off. Stupid fucking flapper dress with all that fringe. It must have gone flying when I left the room.” There was no other breeze, no window open or fan blowing. Only you could have sabotaged yourself like that.

He doesn’t believe you and shakes his head. “Why would you leave a black-“ he trails off when it hits him. Black sequin - Code Black. Trying to tell him that you had wanted to leave a message but couldn’t. Champ had broken protocol by telling him about the Code Black and apparently you had tried to signal the same thing. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” You shake your head in resignation, blowing out a shuddering breath. “I didn’t want to leave. Especially not after…” Another shaky breath leaves the rest of you shaking in turn, and you shove your hands under your legs on the couch. This is the most terrifying thing you’ve ever asked a person in your entire life. “Did you…mean it? What you said?”

Jack bites his lip, wanting to ask you what you’re talking about but he can’t do that. You look distraught that he had thought you had just disappeared. “Yeah.” Jack admits quietly. “Look, I know that it’s not something you were expectin’ ta hear, and you don’t feel the same.” He rolls on with the emotions that he needs to get out. “I won’t be mad, or take it out on you. But that night….fuck.” He blows out a breath. “I got to touch you. Just like I fuckin’ dreamed of. And I couldn’t just let you think it was a heat of the moment thing for me.”

“Why do you think I don’t feel the same?” With your heart beating wildly and your shakiness only increasing, there’s a sort of explosive quality in your mind and body that you can’t quite figure out how to control. Like all you want to do is launch yourself at him for a kiss but you know you need to talk first. To get it all out in the open. To be honest with each other. “I—I honestly had no idea you thought of me as anything but a friend. I was…well…shocked is a bit of an understatement.”

Jack snorts. “I know my reputation. Hell, I crafted it. But I couldn’t flirt with you. It’s too- shit- you had me from the first time we met. I was fucking hooked and it wouldn’t have been right. You were a junior agent and -“ he shakes his head. “I was running from the kind of commitment you were made for.”

“Your reputation was built by a man who had loved his wife so deeply that he couldn’t bear the thought of loving and losing again,” you remind him quietly. You sure you hadn’t known that right away, but when you had learned about his wife and son, you understood implicitly. “But it…it never stopped me from falling in love with you. Even when I thought I’d never be more to you than an acquaintance. I considered myself damn lucky to eventually become your friend. I just thought…I thought the fact that you never, ever flirted with me…meant that it was unrequited. So I made myself okay with it. Until two weeks ago.”

“I respect you, Rye.” Jack murmurs quietly. “I didn’t want to make it seem like you were everyone else, because you weren’t.” It’s backwards and twisted, but no one ever said that he had defeated all his demons. “When I broke- I gave you everything.”

“More than you know.” A soft huff of a laugh escapes you and you shake your head again, willing your nerves to calm down even a little. “Just…please understand, Jack. That I’ve been in love with you since the second I met you. And the only reason I didn’t say it back the night we slept together is because I was so shocked to hear it from you in the first place. I thought I’d hallucinated what I wanted to hear, and then before I knew it we were asleep…and then I woke up to a Code Black.”

“I was upset.” Jack admits quietly. “Really upset.” He flushes slightly. “May have been thinkin’ some not-so-polite things until Tequila told me it was you who was slated for the mission.” He won’t tell you that Champ had broken the rules. “Convinced myself that you had run off to go save the world so you wouldn’t have to tell me that you’d had too much alcohol and that’s why you let me take you home.”

“Not at all.” Taking a chance, you reach for his hand and practically sigh in relief when he slots his fingers through yours. “I pretty much thought I’d died and gone to heaven, if I’m honest. I just kept thinking…if this only happens once, I never want to forget a single thing.” You squeeze his hand gently, wishing you could have said all this two weeks ago. “I’m sorry my message didn’t work. That’s…you have every right to think nasty things about me. I’m so sorry.”

“No I don’t.” Jack protests. “Not if you meant to be here. Not if you wanted to be here the next morning. Then it’s just a bad misunderstanding and I’m sorry.”

“Then I guess we’re both sorry.” He’ll never know that you cried all the way to the office that morning at having to leave him, you decide right now. It would only make him feel even more guilty and he doesn’t deserve that. “But I’m not sorry about what happened between us.”

“You aren’t?” He tightens his grip on your hand, relaxing slowly as you talk and he understands that this was one giant cluster fuck. He’s used to those, he can handle those. “That’s good, sugar. Because New Years was probably the best night of my life.”

“God, I hope you mean that.” Your shakiness is for more than one reason, although you needed to have this conversation first. Whatever the two of you decide will happen next is a decision made by both of you, not just you alone. “Because…Ginger couldn’t clear me…after my physical. I can’t go back on the list.”

Jack frowns, brows pulling together. “Why can’t Ginger clear you? What’s wrong?” There’s a number of things that can be fixed by Statesman tech and he’s worried that it’s something bad.

Your stomach churns with worry, but there’s nothing to be done about it now. The unmistakable advances of Statesman tech can do things that most doctors absolutely cannot, thanks to Ginger Ale, and you’re not sure whether to thank her or curse her. “It’s not that something’s wrong, technically,” you admit, giving another worried squeeze to his hand. “But we probably ought to have used that condom…”

Jack’s eyes widen and they drop to your stomach, discerning the meaning of your comment. You aren’t a liar and Jack would believe you if you said you didn’t sleep with someone else, but he’s confused. “Sugar- how?” He chokes out. “I got snipped when I joined Statesman.”

“When was the last time you had your sperm count checked?” You had made Ginger do the test three times, but the result was always the same. Your birth control failed and Jack’s second kid is already growing, if very slowly. “The chances of a vasectomy failing are less than one percent, but it can still happen.”

Jack frowns and then rolls his eyes and groans. “The chamber.” He remembers. “When I got shot and then- uh, put back together.” He shakes his head. “Ging said I might need to get it checked but I dadgum forgot.” He bites his lip and tries not to freak out over the fact that you are pregnant after your one and only time together. “What do you want, sugar?” He asks.

“Not more than you’re willing to give freely.” The answer is that you want all of him. Every single bit. Love and a life and a family. But you know that even if Jack does love you, he’s never loved anyone the way he loved his wife. And losing Maria nearly destroyed him, so he may not be willing to take that chance again. “But I…unless you really object…I’m keeping the baby. Even if you don’t want a commitment or anything. I just…you’re right about me. I want a family and if this is my only chance I don’t want to give that up. Especially not if I get even the littlest piece of you with it.”

“You think I would-“ he shakes his head. “No, I would never force you, one way or the other.” He frowns. “I was asking if you wanted to have a baby. And if you think I’m gonna sit back and let you raise it by yourself, you must have hit your dadgum head.”

“I want this baby.” It had only taken about ten seconds after learning it existed to determine that, even if you’re still grappling with the reality of it. “And I want you.” You inch closer to him on the couch. “However you want to be together. That part is up to you.”

“It’s been a long damn time since I’ve thought about being a daddy, sugar.” There’s a slight smirk on his face but he doesn’t make the obvious crude joke. “But I’m pretty traditional when you break it down. I’m not gonna want to be apart from you and our baby.”

He might not have made the joke but you still laugh, having made the sugar daddy connection in your mind easily enough. “I know it’s a lot, Jack. And we didn’t plan it. But…” All you can do is shrug your shoulders slightly, looking up at him with such obvious hope and even more obvious water behind your eyes. “But, I love you.”

“I meant it, baby girl.” He promises you, reaching out to caress your cheek and then cup it. “I love you. I love you so much, sugar.” Licking his lips, his eyes drop down to yours. “Can I kiss you?”

"I wish you would." practically beaming at him, you lean in and let the moment wash over you. Jack's lips against yours. His hands on your skin. His baby - your baby - is already starting to grow.

Jack pulls you close, pressing his lips against yours and groaning softly. “Sugar, you’re gonna have my baby.” He whispers against your lips in awe. “Just the one time, one time between your thighs and you are carrying my baby.”

“One time is all it takes.” You can’t help the broad way you smile, giggling softly against his lips as you steal another kiss.

“I don’t regret it.” He promises. “I don’t regret you.” He smiles as he kisses you again. “We really did shake things up for New Years, didn’t we?”

“Just a little bit.” Another laugh escapes you, and you lean into his side only to be rewarded with Jack’s arms encircling you and holding you close. “I don’t regret any of it. Except maybe not making my message a whole lot clearer.”

“We’ll get better at communicatin’.” Jack promises with a smile. “We’re partners now.”

“Do you want to go get dinner, maybe?” The end of a mission can be crazy even when it’s successful, and you just want to try to relax tonight. Especially with everything changing in your personal life too, apparently. “My treat?”

Jack scoffs and shakes his head. “You ain’t paying, sugar.” He huffs. “Not while you’re with me. If you want dinner, we can go out, or I can take you home and throw some steaks on the grill.”

“I kind of want to celebrate,” you admit, feeling silly about it even though it’s the truth. “If that’s okay?”

“Then we’ll go out and celebrate.” Jack promises before he frowns at something you had said. “Why would you have thought I would never be interested in you?”

“Because…” It feels sillier than the celebration thing now that you know the truth. Silly and even a little pointless, but he asked so you’ll tell him. “Because you flirted with every woman in the world besides me. Which Ginger said is how she knew you were interested in me. But I didn’t believe her.”

“You know you’re wrong, don’t cha?” Jack asks you. “When you said that you get sent on assignments to be invisible? You’re sent on the assignments you are given because you get the job done. Champ knows that if he gives you a task, it will be done.”

“Whatever the reason is, he’ll have to do without me for about a year.” It isn’t worth having a debate over your lack of self esteem with him right now, and you especially don’t want to ruin the mood by crying anything other than happy tears, so you just redirect the conversation altogether. “This baby is my top priority.”

“Our top priority.” He corrects you. He’s nervous, terrified really, but there’s no one he’d rather have a happy accident with than you. “Our New Year’s baby.”

______

Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @katheriner1999 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04

[winchesterwild78]

The Tutor part 3

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader

Warnings: mention of cheating, language, angst, panic attack, mention of phone sex, fluff

A/N: Just a quick idea that popped in my head. A short series, maybe 2 or 3 chapters. I don’t know yet. No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction. Jensen has children in this, but I do not use their real names. 

Reader is a teacher and is asked to tutor Jensen’s child. Things develop between Jensen and the reader. I do not condone cheating, again, this is a work of fiction.

This chapter got a little long. Sorry not sorry. 😀 Please overlook any errors. I wrote this fast and edited it fast. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next morning you woke up early. You stretched and reached for Jensen. His side of the bed was empty and your heart sank. Surely he wouldn’t have left without saying goodbye. 

You climbed out of bed, threw your clothes on and left the room. The house was still dark and very quiet. As you got to the bottom step you saw Jensen sitting on the deck, coffee in hand, and hair still a mess from sleep. You bit your lip looking at him. You could definitely get used to this view first thing in the morning. 

You walked to the door and opened it. Jensen looked up and smiled at you. “Good morning, sweetheart. How did you sleep?” You bent down and kissed his lips, “Good morning baby, I slept amazing. How did you sleep?” “Better than I have in years. Come here darlin’,” he pulled you into his lap. You giggled as you fell. “God I’m going to miss you so much.” Jensen said as he tilted your chin up. “I’m going to miss you too, Jensen.” 

“Promise me you’ll call as much as you can. I know filming is crazy, but when you’re able to.” “I can guarantee I will, every chance I can.” He pulled you into a deep kiss. 

His phone went off, it was time for him to get ready. Your lips lingered a few minutes longer before you pulled away. You both stood. His eyes were filled with love and sadness. You moved out of his way so he could walk inside. 

Your heart was heavy with sadness. You knew he was going to call, but you’d miss his touch. Being here with him and the kids has felt like home. How could you leave? You wanted to stay in this moment with him forever. 

“Jensen, wait.” Jensen stopped before he went inside. He turned, facing you. “Yes baby?” “I’ll move into the guest house. I want to be here. Safe and near you. I lo …” You stopped yourself. Jensen looked at you, lifted your chin and placed a searing kiss on your lips. “I’m glad you’re moving in. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and I know baby. I feel it too.” 

You took a shaky breath in. You almost said it. Those three little words. You knew you were falling for him. Everything with him was easy and felt incredible. 

His thumb rubbed across your cheek before he let you go. “Leaving you will be one of the hardest things I have to do.” You smiled, “I know Jensen, I know.” 

Jensen walked in the house and went upstairs to shower and get ready. Walking into the kitchen you started cooking breakfast and making coffee. The kids woke up and came downstairs to eat and see Jensen off. There was a heaviness in the air. 

You and the kids had sad faces and Jensen chuckled. “Aww guys, it’s only for a few days. I’ll be back before you know it. I’ll call every night and when I get back I don’t have to go anywhere for a while. We will all be together for the holidays. 

Jensen’s daughter, Annie looked at him, “Is mommy coming home soon? For Christmas?” “I’m not sure, baby. I hope so.” Your heart broke for the kids. You knew the marriage was over, but the kids didn’t. They missed their mother. 

After breakfast was finished, you made Jensen a cup of coffee to go. He hugged and kissed the kids goodbye. You craved his lips. Biting your lip you looked at him. He pulled you into a hug. It took you by surprise. “Thank you again for keeping them. I owe you.” As he pulled away he placed a kiss on your cheek. “You’re welcome Jensen. I hope you have a great flight and we can’t wait to see you when you come back.” 

“Hey guys, can you help dad out for a second. I can’t find my fancy comb. Can y’all please go look for it?” The kids took off. Jensen grabbed you, “that should keep them busy for a few minutes.” He pulled you into a passionate kiss. You moaned into his mouth. As the sound of little feet on the stairs filled the room he pulled away. “Thank you baby” you whispered. 

Jensen smiled at you and squeezed your hand. You knew the two of you had to steal a kiss when the kids weren’t around. It would confuse them and cause unneeded problems. You were thankful Jensen made an effort to steal those moments. 

The kids ran in the room with a comb in hand. “Oh thank you guys so much!” He pulled all three of them in for a hug. There were tears and his youngest daughter wouldn’t let go of his neck. “Baby, daddy will be home before you know it. You’re going to have such a great time with Ms. Y/N while I’m gone. I heard she’s got cookie dough ready for you guys to make cookies.” She turned and looked at you, you smiled and nodded your head. 

She wiggled out of his arms and told him goodbye. “I love you guys so much. I’ll miss you every second I’m gone.” The kids said their goodbyes and I love yous as Jensen grabbed his bag. “You three be good for Ms Y/N.” “We will daddy.” 

You walked with Jensen to his car. He grabbed your hand, “I’m going to miss you every second I’m gone too. I love you, Y/N. Hell I know it’s too soon, but I can’t help it. I’m in love with you.” Tears pricked your eyes, “I’m in love with you too, Jensen. I’m going to miss you every second too. I love you baby.” He placed a soft kiss on your lips. “Bye sweetheart. I’ll text you when I land.”

Jensen climbed in his car and as he drove away your heart ached but was so full. Walking back into the house you saw Annie standing near the front door. Your heart beat wildly in your chest. Did she see her dad kiss me? Did she hear us? Oh god, please don’t tell me she saw us.

“Ms. Y/N, is daddy really going to call us every day?” “Yes, sweetie. Daddy just told me he’s going to text when he lands too. He told me earlier he was going to video chat with you guys every night.” “Okay. I miss daddy when he’s gone.” “I know you do sweetie, but he’s going to be home really soon.” “I know. I miss mommy too. She’s never at home anymore.” Your heart clenched at her words. “Well, I don’t know your mommy as well as I know your daddy, but I do know she loves you three very much.”

She gave you a hug and walked away. You walked in the kitchen to start cleaning up. The house phone rang so you answered, “Ackles residence.” “Who is this?” A woman’s voice asked. “This is Y/N. I’m helping Mr. and Mrs. Ackles with the children, may I ask who this is?” “Oh, hey, Y/N. It’s Mrs. Ackles. Has Jensen left for work yet?” “Oh hi Mrs. Ackles, yes he left about 10 minutes ago.” “Okay, great. I’ll be home in about 30 minutes.” “Oh that’s great. The kids have missed you.” “Well I’ll see you guys soon.” 

You hung up and was slightly confused. She told Jensen she wouldn’t be back for a week and that’s why you were watching the kids. You didn’t mind watching them, but it still confused you. 

Then it hit you. You and Jensen had sex in their bed, and the used condom was in the trash in their bathroom. You ran up the stairs to the bedroom, made the bed and emptied the trash. You threw the bathroom trash into the trash in the kitchen, then took it outside to the trash can. 

As you came back inside your phone went off. 

Jensen: Hey darlin’. I’m about to board the flight. I just wanted to tell you last night was incredible and I can’t wait to have you in my arms again. I love you.

You: Hey babe. Have a safe flight. I can’t wait either. I love you too. Your wife called and she said she’d be home soon. I made the bed and took out the bathroom trash. 😉

Jensen: When is she coming home?

You: She said in about half an hour.

Jensen: Of course she is. I doubt she’s going to stay long. 

You: I hope she does, the kids miss her. I’ll let you know when you call tonight if she’s here. I doubt we can have that phone sex you promised if she’s here.

Jensen: Of course we can. Go to your bedroom. I left you a present on the dresser.

You: What?! Jensen you didn’t have to get me anything.

Jensen: Yes I did. Trust me, it will make phone sex so much easier, especially if she’s at home.

You: Walking in my room now.

You: Jensen! I can’t believe you bought me earbuds.

Jensen: I told you it would make it easier. Now you can hear me and nobody else can. 

You: You’re a genius. 😘

Jensen: I do have an occasional good idea every now and then. I love you, boarding now.

You: I love you too, safe flight my love.

You walked out of your room smiling. The front door opened and Mrs. Ackles walked in. “Hey, Y/N! It’s good to see you.” “Hey, it’s good to see you too. Welcome home.” “Oh it’s good to be home.” Just then a man walked in behind her. You looked at the man and realized it was the man from the article. “Y/N, this is Josh, Josh, this is Y/N. She’s the tutor we hired for the kids. She was so sweet and offered to keep the kids too while Jensen went to work.” 

You extended your hand, “Hello, it’s nice to meet you.” “Yeah, you too.” There was a bit of an awkward silence between the three of you. “Well, I’m going to unpack, I’ll be back shortly. Um, Josh, can you carry my suitcase upstairs please?” Inside you rolled your eyes. You’re not being slick, you know that. I know what you’re doing. 

“Oh yeah, sure.” He grabbed her bag and walked upstairs with it. You went back into your room, grabbed your book and took it out on the balcony. You settled in the chair and started to read. 

A few minutes later you heard Jessica crying. You put your book down and ran into the house. “Jessica, what’s wrong?” Before she could answer you saw Jensen’s wife in a robe, hair a mess and trying to get to her daughter. The two of you made eye contact and a flash of embarrassment filled her eyes. Jessica clung to you and wouldn’t look at her mother. 

“Jessica Marie, look at me!” Her big green eyes, full of tears, looked at her mother. “Why did you walk in mommy’s room like that? You know you’re not supposed to when the door is shut.” Oh great parenting. Blame the child for you fucking your boyfriend in your bed, during the day with your children at home. Real fucking smart.

“I heard something. I didn’t know you were home. Why was Uncle Josh laying on you like that?” You looked at her and she looked terrified. “Y/N, would you please excuse me and Jessica. I’d like to speak to my daughter privately.” “Oh, of course.” Jessica clung to you and wouldn’t let you go. “Sweetie. I’ll be in my room. Talk to your mommy.” 

You walked into your room and closed the door. Your heart ached for Jessica and wished Jensen was at home. You quickly realized she walked in on her mom and Josh. She was too young to understand what was going on, but not too young to know that Uncle Josh was in mommy’s bed.

A few minutes later there was a knock on your door. “Come in.” Mrs Ackles opened the door and stepped in. “Y/N, can we talk woman to woman?” “Sure.” She sat down at the foot of the bed. “So obviously you know what Jess walked into. I’m not going to lie and say it’s not what you think. It’s exactly what you think. Josh and I were having sex. We’re together. Jensen is aware of it. We haven’t been happy in a really long time. You understand, as women we have needs. Needs my husband can’t satisfy anymore. I’m in love with Josh and he’s in love with me. Jensen and I are only married for PR purposes.” You sat listening to her in complete disbelief. “I get it. Marriage is hard. My husband and I have split up because he started to get abusive. I moved in with my best friend a few months ago, however my ex came to my school and beat me up in the parking lot. Since he knows where she lives, Jensen offered me the guest house. He said you wouldn’t mind. Since there is security here and my ex doesn’t know where you live, Jensen figured it would be safer.” 

“Oh my goodness honey, I’m so sorry you’re going through that. I can honestly say no matter what’s happened between me and Jensen, he’s never once put his hands on me. He really is a nice guy, but I just don’t love him. All I ask is you don’t tell Jensen about this fiasco today. Let me tell him, so we can figure out how to address it with the children.” “Of course, it’s not my place to tell him.” 

A few minutes later you were left alone in the room. You were torn, could you really judge her after you had sex with her husband in that same bed last night? The kids were home then too, the difference, they were asleep, and he locked the door. 

Trying your best not to judge her, you busied yourself with packing. Since she was home you figured you weren’t needed. 

You had planned to go back to Y/F/N’s house and pack. Coming out of the room you saw her and Josh standing in the kitchen. “Mrs Ackles, I’m going to head out since you’re home. I’ll be back later today. 

“Oh okay, well we aren’t staying long. I just came home to do laundry and grab some things.” 

You stood stunned. She’d just come home. Her children desperately missed her. “Okay. Well I won’t be gone long then. I’ll see y’all later.” 

Walking to your car your heart was heavy. Her children missed her, but she was more concerned with spending time with her boyfriend. Your heart broke for the kids. Driving to Y/F/N’s house you hoped Jeff wasn’t around so you could get your stuff and leave. You still had a ton of stuff at the house you shared with Jeff, but you were too afraid to go over there without someone with you. 

Pulling up to the house you noticed Y/F/N was home. Walking in the house she was so excited to see you. You filled her in on what was going on and told her you were moving into the guest house of the family you tutor for. “Come on, Y/N, you have to tell me who it is.” “Sorry, I can’t. Not only for their protection, but for yours. If Jeff came over you could truly tell him you didn’t know where I am.” “Fine, I just think you’re not telling me because the dad is super hot and you’re secretly having an affair with him.” She started laughing and so did you. You desperately wanted to tell her about you and Jensen, but you needed to protect him. 

You packed up your stuff and loaded up your car. You hugged her goodbye and told her you’d be in touch. Once the dad returned you’d be free to hang out again. Driving back to Jensen’s house your phone went off.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart. I’ve landed, gonna grab my bags and head to the hotel. I’ll call you when I get there. How are the kids? Did she ever come home?

You: Hey baby. Glad you arrived safely. The kids are okay. I ran to Y/F/N’s house to pack so I could move in. She did, but she’s leaving again. 

Jensen: Of course she is. I can’t wait for you to move in. 😘 Okay. I’ll call you later. I love you.

You: I can’t either. Maybe you can sneak out and come see me. 😉 I love you too.

Jensen: That’s the idea. 

You smiled and bit your lip. God this was going to be hard. Pretending he means nothing to you around his wife and kids when he means everything to you. 

You arrived back at Jensen’s house late afternoon. Mrs. Ackles, Josh and the kids were in the living room when you arrived. “Hey, Y/N. Did you get your stuff?” “Yeah, most of it. It’s in the car right now.” “Well let me get you the key to the guest house. Josh can help you bring in the boxes.” “Oh, sure, thanks.” 

She stood and made her way to the kitchen to get the keys. You walked outside to the back and unlocked the door to the guest house. It was spacious and beautiful. There was a small kitchen and living room, a bedroom in the back and a bathroom between the bedroom and the living area. It was fully furnished too, which was a great help. 

The bedroom had a queen sized bed, which you thought was the perfect size for you and Jensen. 

Josh carried some boxes in for you. When he put them down he looked at you, “So um, you’re not going to say anything to Jensen are you?” “No, I’m not. It’s not my place.” “Okay, thanks.” You nodded and he walked out. 

A few hours later she was telling the kids goodbye, again. The kids were in tears. She told them she would be back in about a week, that she just came home to get some more clothes. Annie was angry, “Why don’t you love us anymore? You’re always gone.” “Oh Annie, I do love you guys. I just have some grown up things to take care of. I promise I will be back soon.” 

Annie walked away and didn’t say goodbye to her mother. The other two cried and hugged her. When she pulled them off of her they clung to you. “Y/N, thank you again for taking care of them.” You nodded, trying to hide your anger. Her and Josh walked out the door. 

A little while later your phone rang with a video call. Jensen’s name flashed on the screen. “Guys, guess who’s calling me?!” You called the kids. The three of them ran in excited. You answered the phone and saw Jensen sitting shirtless on a bed. You bit your lip. “Daddy!” Annie yelled. Jess and Jensen Jr came running to the phone, “Daddy!” You smiled as Jensen talked to his children and they told him about their day. Jensen noticed Jessica was unusually quiet when he asked about her day. She looked at you and then at Jensen. “Daddy, Mommy was mad at me.” “What? Why baby girl?” You knew she was about to tell him, but you didn’t know how to stop her. “I went in your room.” Jensen looked confused, “What happened in my room, baby girl?” “Mommy was in there with Uncle Josh, and he was on top of her. They were making funny sounds.” 

You saw Jensen’s jaw tighten and a flash of anger in his eyes. “It’s okay baby girl. You didn’t do anything wrong.” The kids and Jensen talked for a little while longer before they said their goodbyes, “Hey guys, let me talk to Ms Y/N before I hang up. I love you three so much.”

Annie handed you back your phone and Jensen waited, “They’re outside now.” “What the fuck happened?” Jensen asked with venom in his voice. “Honestly I’m not sure. I was in my room, reading and I heard Jess crying. So I came out, when I saw her your wife was coming down the steps in a robe. Apparently her and Josh were having sex and Jess walked in on it.” 

Jensen ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “She was screwing him in my bed?! What the hell was she thinking doing that with the kids there.” “Jensen, honey, we did the exact same thing last night too.” “Right, but we locked the door and the kids were asleep for fucks sake. I knew she was screwing him, but to bring him in the house and do that with our children at home in the middle of the day is just insane.” 

“I know, baby. I’m sorry. I wish I could have protected her from that.” “It’s not your fault darlin’. Is she still there?” “No, they left again. She said she’d be back in about a week.” “Okay, well I have a night shoot today, then I’m shooting tomorrow. If all goes well I should be back by Wednesday.” “I can’t wait until you’re home. I already miss you.” “I miss you too, sweetheart. I can’t wait to hold you in my arms again.” You smiled.

“Well baby, text me when the kids go to sleep, I shouldn’t be shooting yet, so if you’re up for some fun, I’ll video call you.” He winked at you and you giggled. “I will, Jensen. I’m looking forward to it.” “Good, well I need to head out. I’m going to the studio to sign some things and get stuff ready. I love you, Y//N.” “I love you too, Jensen.” 

Hours later when the kids were finally in bed you sent Jensen a text.

You: Hey baby, the kids are in bed and so am I. Waiting for you with my earbuds. 😉

You noticed Jensen’s typing bubbles kept appearing and disappearing. You waited for either a text or the video chat to come up, but nothing. As the minutes turned into hours, your heart sank. Maybe he got called to set early. He’s busy, but then why are the bubbles appearing? So many thoughts running through your head. 

You laid down, placing your head on your pillow and your phone next to you. Before too long you were falling asleep. You woke up a few hours later and looked at the clock, 3:45am. You checked your phone and still nothing from him. You sighed heavily, got up, changed your clothes into more appropriate sleepwear, put your phone on silent, and crawled back in bed with a heavy heart.

You missed Jensen, and you were sad he didn’t call you or even text you back. Before going to sleep you sent Jensen a final text.

You: I’m going to bed, you must be busy. Good night, Jensen.

You put your phone down, rolled over and fell asleep. 

The sound of your alarm blaring pulled you from your slumber. You were exhausted. Falling asleep was easy, but you kept waking up. You knew Jensen had an evening shoot, but you couldn’t understand why he didn’t text. 

You grabbed your phone and checked it. Your heart sank, no messages or missed calls. He was probably busy. He’ll call today.

You opened Instagram and started scrolling. Your fingers stopped when you saw a picture of Jensen. He was sitting at a table in a restaurant with the woman who posted the photo. You saw other people there too, but her and Jensen looked really cozy. Your heart clenched in your chest. 

She was gorgeous, a guest star on the show he was on. She was tall, dark hair, thin, and very busty. She’s leaning on Jensen in the photo and he had his arm around her waist, pulling her close to him. She’s placing a kiss on his cheek. The caption is what made the tears fall.

“Always a fun time with this cutie, Jensen Ackles. Thanks for such a fun night out. Can’t wait to do it again. 😘” The comments were horrible. Some of the other people in the photo commented that Jensen was hilarious being so drunk last night. Other comments said his wife was going to have to share him. Then Jensen commented, “Yeah, last night was fun. Glad I decided to go out, not glad I drank so much. Bring me some water and a greasy breakfast when you come in today. 😉” 

You sat on your bed and cried. Feeling foolish that Jensen could actually love someone like you. Just an average woman, not beautiful by Hollywood standards, and definitely not a model. You had extra weight, and you worked a Mon-Fri job, hell you were tutoring his kids, and right now you were pretty much their nanny. Maybe you were just a means to an end until he went back to work, or you were just a quick fuck because he wasn’t getting any from his wife. 

Now with him back at work, he wouldn’t need you anymore. Your anxiety started to spiral and within minutes you were in the middle of a full panic attack. Tears streaming down your face. Your heart broke. You allowed yourself to fall in love with him, and you thought he was being genuine when he said he loved you, now you weren’t so sure. You wanted to, no, you needed to talk to him.

You: Jensen, we need to talk. Please call me as soon as you can.

Jensen: Can’t talk right now. Chat later.

You: Okay, I love you.

Jensen: K, chat later.

The sadness overwhelmed you. You curled into a ball on your bed and cried. A few hours later, you cried all you could. Your eyes were swollen and red. Slowly pulling yourself out of bed, you jumped in the shower. 

You tried to wash away all the sadness and humility. Standing under the hot water, it covers you like a warm blanket. The water eventually turned cold, pulling you from your thoughts. You got out, dried off and got dressed. 

You walked into the kitchen and made coffee. The shrill sound of your phone ringing pulled you from your thoughts. Looking at your screen you saw it was a video call from Jensen. You walked back into your room for privacy. Your finger hovering over the answer button. 

You took a steading breath and answered. 

“Hey sweetheart, how are you?” Jensen saw you and his eyes filled with concern, “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You looked at your phone as tears slipped out. “Baby, talk to me, please you’re scaring me. What’s wrong? Are you okay, the kids?”

You softly answered, “The kids are fine, Mr Ackles.” “Are you okay, sweetheart? What’s wrong, and why are you calling me Mr. Ackles?”

You shook your head no. “I’m not okay, but I will be. I can’t do this anymore. When you or Mrs. Ackles gets back. I'll be leaving. I won’t be tutoring the kids anymore. I’m sorry.” “Baby, what happened? Please talk to me.” 

“I can’t compete with the women you work with. You chose to go out last night, drink and hang on that gorgeous woman. Not that I blame you, she’s perfect and I’m not. I waited for you, a text, a call, but I got nothing.” Tears were still falling down your face.

“Y/N, you’re perfect, gorgeous and I’m so in love with you, please baby, please believe me. I’m sorry I didn’t call or text. If I didn’t go out people would have questioned why. By the time I got back to the hotel it was really late and I figured you were asleep.” 

“I…just..” Whole body sobs filled you. Jensen’s heart broke. He had no intention of hurting you. “Sweetheart, please. I don’t want anyone but you. I’m completely in love with you, only you. Please look at me.” 

You lifted your eyes and met his eyes on the screen, and saw pain and love. “That’s my girl, even now you’re beautiful to me. Please baby believe me when I tell you I love you and I never meant to hurt you.”

“Then why when I texted earlier and said I love you, you replied back with ‘k, chat later’? “Oh darlin’ I was just really busy. There isn’t an excuse for that. I promise you I will never miss the opportunity to tell you I love you again.” 

Tears streamed down your face again, you felt ashamed and guilty for feeling like you did. “I’m sorry Jensen, I just can’t believe someone like you would really want someone like me. I know you love me. Guess I have a lot to work on.” 

“God I wish I was there with you right now. I’d wrap my arms around you and never let you go. Kiss those soft lips of yours, down your neck, leaving love bites to your beautiful breasts.” 

You smirked and bit your lip, then giggled when you saw him adjust his pants. “Jens, are you trying to have phone sex with me?” 

“Maybe, is it working?” He winked at the camera. 

You let your shirt fall forward a bit, exposing the upper part of your breast and a little of your nipple, “Maybe”.

About 20 minutes later the two of you were panting and coming down from your release. 

“Jens, that was hot.” “Yeah it was, baby. Now I’m really sorry I missed this last night.” Your flushed cheeks getting darker as you giggled. 

“I wish I was there with you, Y/N. You’re so beautiful, especially with those flushed cheeks.”

There was a knock on his door that pulled his attention for a second, “Mr. Ackles, you’re needed on set in 5.” “Okay, thanks Joe.” He turned his attention back towards you, “Duty calls, darlin’, but I’m not done with you yet. I’ll call you as soon as I’m free and we’re going to do this again. I love you, baby.” 

You smiled, “I can’t wait, babe, and Jensen, I’m sorry.” “Shh, baby, it’s okay this is all new territory for the both of us. We will get through it. I love you so much, and I’m not going anywhere.”

“I love you too, Jensen. Have a great time on set and I’ll talk to you later.” “Bye darlin’, have a great day.” He blew a kiss before he hung up. 

You sat on the bed smiling, knowing there were things you two needed to work out, but you also knew Jensen really did love you, wanted you, and wanted to be with only you.

As you got up your phone went off with an Instagram notification. It was a post from Jensen.

There was a picture of a silhouette of a man and a woman, holding onto each other. He captioned it with, “The feeling of being completely in love with another person is one of the best feelings in the world. When you find your person you know. Everything feels right, easy. No matter what you two face, you can always find a common ground. I love you, darlin’. Now and forever more.” 

Your heart fluttered in your chest. You sent him a text.

You: I love you too, now and forever more.

Jensen: 🥰 😘 I’m glad you saw that.

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[libraryofloveletters]

I Spy With My Little Eye

Dominik Szoboszlai x Fem!Reader

Warnings: dom is so cheesy but he also disappeared and you're like ??, a bit plot heavy, so many random tasks, reader thinks dom has lost his mind, major sweetness at the end.

Word Count: 970

Author's Note: dedicated to my fellow dom enthusiast @curiousthyme <3

--

This Christmas was different. Dom made you work for your gift rather than giving it to you; following the clues through the neighbourhood to your final gift.

There was some time before Christmas and Dominik suggested a trip to Germany, the place you two called home for quite a bit of time while he played with Leipzig. You still had your place there as you bounced back and forth between there and Liverpool for work so you two were staying there for a few days.

You felt the mattress dip, your boyfriend's warm hand on your forehead. His lips by your ear, "I've got some errands to run, sweetheart. I'll be back later." he whispers, kissing your head.

A mumble and you feel around, patting his cheek before rolling over and going back to sleep.

It wasn't until an hour later than you got up, finding Dom's side of the bed still empty. There was a note on the pillow, you assumed it was just him reiterating what he had told you before he left, knowing you'd be too sleepy to really listen to him.

You unfolded the page, reading the words he had scribbled down.

check your favourite hiding spot for a gift - xoxo D.

The sun peeked through the curtains, you forced yourself out of bed to go into the living room. The ottoman sat on the rug, you smiled to yourself. Dom never used the ottoman, in fact he hated the thing; it was ugly and clunky but you liked it for some reason so he left it. Plus he knew you used it as a hiding spot because he often forgot it was there.

Pushing the top open, there's a box wrapped up with ribbon and a note tucked under it. The note was opened first.

get ready and head to Julie's for the next note - xoxo D.

You had no idea what he was up to but you folded the page again, taking the lid off of the box to find a dress you had been telling him about for weeks. You haven't been able to find it in stores or online. You're not sure how he did it but you're sure he used his 'connections' as he called it to find it for you.

As the note said, you went through your morning routine and got ready, your coat wrapped around you and boots on as you headed out and into the snow.

The bell rings on the cafe door, the smell of baked goods welcomes you back home. "Y/n!" Julie beamed, you weren't expecting to see her in, especially not on a Saturday morning.

"Hey!" You smiled.

"Here you go," she passed you your usual coffee order and an envelope. You reach for your purse to pay her but she shakes her head, "Dom paid."

You smile, opening the envelope and reading the note.

meet me where we had our first kiss - xoxo D.

It takes you a moment to think back, it feels like a million years ago but then it hits you, the park.

You thank Julie for the coffee and you're off again, making your way through the snow, cursing Dom in your head for choosing a snowy day to do whatever it was that this was. It's a short walk to the park, specifically to the park rangers' office; yes you had your first kiss outside of their office. You were on a walk and it started pouring rain, Dom pulled you there to keep you out of the rain and kissed you for the first time there.

It was more romantic in the morning, but thinking about it now made you giggle.

You looked around for your boyfriend, hoping this would be the last of the walking as your legs were killing you.

Someone pats your shoulder, a park ranger. "Are you y/n?"

"Yeah," you nod, the man hands you yet another envelope. You're a bit annoyed, knowing you'd probably have to walk some more but you open it.

follow the ranger. no more walking, I promise - xo D.

It's as if he read your mind. "Lead the way," you tell the man, he nods and leads you over to one of their little cars.

You knew this path, it led to the gazebo at the edge of the park that overlooked the water. You get out of the car, thanking the man as you walk over to the gazebo. There are candles and flowers everywhere. As you make your way closer, you're expecting to see Dom but you don't.

A bit confused, you look around but then feel someone tap your shoulder; Dominik is on one knee behind you when you turn around.

"Dom.." You look at the man, your jaw hangs open slightly.

"Y/n," he smiles, "the last 5 years have been the best of my life, as cheesy as it sounds. You've been through the good and the bad, stuck to my side no matter what and I can't thank you enough for that. I hope you know how much you mean to me and will always mean to me so," he smiled at you again, opening the small box in his hand.

"Will you do me the honour and marry me?"

You're in shock, nodding but then you remember you actually have to answer him. "Yes!" You lean down, hands on his face as you kiss him. Dom stands, still kissing you for a moment before he pulls away, slipping the ring onto your finger.

Your boyfriend- fiancé, pulls you back into a hug, kissing you as he picks you up, giving you a good squeeze.

"I know you've always wanted a Christmas proposal but not on Christmas." He laughs, forehead pressed to yours.

You smile, tears in your eyes as your hand presses to his face. "It was perfect, perhaps less walking would have been better but still," you giggled, Dom kissed you once more, hugging you.

[illicitlimerence-writes]

secret keeper | m. schumacher

pairing: mick schumacher x driver!teammate!reader word count: 2.1k words (i really wanted all of these to be short lol sorry) request: don’t think so! prompt: doing secret santa ⎯ “just tell me who got me.” from this prompt list. not my prompts, credits to the person who created it!warnings: kinda crack!fic, idk. language, really fluffy, seb being great, special appearance by the spanish speaking gang (i had to). reader speaks spanish in this. a/n: here’s day 2! i hope you like it, pls let me know what you think! reminder that my requests are closed.

my masterlist

(you'll know why i chose this gif later lol)

doing secret santa was the most exciting part of the year for her. it was something so silly and it made her so happy, the thought of having someone actually think deep about what they felt she’d really enjoy was a thrilling one.

something she didn’t quite like about secret santa was that first part. the secret. whilst she did like surprises, and there were only a few limited options as to who might give her something, the anticipation was too much for her. 

her teammate, mick, had made a bet with himself, to see how long it’d take her to either figure out or start interrogating everyone until they told her who her secret santa was. at first he gave it ten minutes, but he laughed to himself as he watched her.

they were doing the standard start-of-year interviews, the drivers’ goals and predictions, and the secret santa name draw. mick had already finished his, and was waiting for her so they could go and have lunch together. normally they’d wait longer to do the name draw, but last year the organizers had left it till the last minute, and they didn’t want to risk it this time. plus, they’d have a whole season ahead of them to think really well about the gift.

“okay, (y/n), i’ve got this santa hat here-” the interviewer said, showing her the hat.

“ooh, christmas in march, i like it!” she laughed.

“and in here there’s the names of the other drivers available for the gift exchange,” she nodded at the interviewer.

“i like that we’re doing this right at the start of the season,” she chuckled, grabbing the hat by the white fluff, the pom pom hanging down, “but i can assure you, more than one person will wait until the day before to get their gift,” the people around her laughed, mick did, too. “why are you laughing? did you feel called out?” she asked mick, raising an eyebrow. a camera panned to him, shaking his head at her.

“i already know what i’m going to get,”

“ooh, tell me, tell me!” she rushed to him, moving her hair away from her ear. he leaned in, presing his lips close to her ear.

“no.”

she rolled her eyes, slapping the back of his head. 

“did you get seb?” she asked walking back to the spot where she was supposed to be, where all the cameras were ready to record her. she hadn’t arrived in time to see his secret santa segment, so she’d have to find out another way.

“i’m not going to tell you!” he laughed, as the interviewer shook her head.

“you’re not supposed to tell each other, or anyone,” she clarified. 

“ugh, fine.” she laughed, “sorry,” she apologized, and placed her hand in, “wait, then he should leave! or he’ll know who i get,” she pointed an accusatory finger at him. “what if i get him?”

“someone else already got mick,” the interviewer clarified, and her shoulders slumped a little, it wasn’t a lie that the two of them were the closest friends and teammates, but she wouldn’t let that discourage her. 

“dang it, what am i going to do with all those treats i got for angie, then?” she teased, mick laughed. “so sorry, i know this is taking way longer than it should’ve. i promise i’ll focus now.” she nodded, “you can stay, just promise not to tell anyone,” she told mick, who pretended to zip his lips together.

she ran her fingers through all the folded pieces of paper, finally picking one that called to her. she unfolded it, her eyes opening wide as she read. 

“hell yes!” she skipped from one foot to the other, jumping in excitement, “i got seb!” she declared happily, showing the paper to everyone. “ha-ha!” she mocked mick, who only rolled his eyes as he laughed. the two of them were the best of friends. they grew up together, and had been teammates since they were in f3, somehow they always found their way back to each other. suddenly her eyes snapped open, “did you get me?” she gasped. mick shook his head. “did he get me?” she asked the rest of the crew behind the cameras, who only laughed at her eagerness, but didn’t answer. “fine, if you could just tell whoever got me that my favorite color is blue, that would be great, thanks!”

-

months passed and as the end of season approached, her relentlessness to know who her secret santa was came back with as much as before. this time, mick wasn’t her only victim.

it started in mexico city, when she was walking alongside charles and lando, and someone from charles’ team approached him.

“hey, charles, just to remind you that the deadline for the secret santa gift is in brazil.” he said, leaving them after that.

“you haven’t turned in your gift?” she asked, she’d done it the week before, when she was finally done packing the perfect gift for sebastian. her mentor. 

“i honestly forgot about it,” he said, lando laughed, drinking from his water bottle. something shifted in her eyes as an idea popped in her head.

“well, i could help you!” she offered, blinking slowly to gain his attention.

“really?” he asked, feeling like a weight was being lifted off his shoulders, “thanks i honestly didn’t know what to get-” he was about to say the name of his secret santa, but lando elbowed him on the ribs.

“you can’t say it!” he scolded him, chuckling at her enraged face.

“lando you ass! he was about to tell me!” she grunted, grabbing charles’ face and directing his eyes to her. “tell me charles, who’s your secret santa?”

“no! i can’t say,” he shook his head, feeling something in the pit of his stomach as her eyes narrowed. 

“did you get me? do you know who got me?” she asked, shaking his shoulders dramatically. lando laughed, charles was trying his hardest to keep a straight face. 

“no, and no!” he said, she grunted, and moved on to lando.

“do you know, norris?” she asked.

“no. i don’t know. and i didn’t get you.”

“you didn’t?” she asked, at least if he denied it she could tick him off his list.

“i don’t know,” he said, shrugging and smiling sheepishly. 

she punched his shoulder and walked away, both drivers hurried after her. 

-

finally, in abu dhabi things got a little bit sweeter. the dinner to honor sebastian was a perfect opportunity for her to really tick people off her list of suspects, up until that point the only person off her list was herself. she hadn’t made that much progress. she had to be smart about it, she couldn’t just straight up ask someone about it, much less if her friends were listening to her.

thankfully, as they were about to leave and were all gathering to take a picture, they all started talking about their agendas for the next day.

“i’m doing the secret santa thing early tomorrow, thankfully,” she heard fernando say, in spanish, he was talking to the other spanish-speakers of the grid. she thanked the stars for her stubbornness, and her parents for listening to her when she said she wanted to learn as many languages as she could. spanish, of course, french, italian, english, and german. this was her shot, and if she were alone, she would’ve grinned like the grinch. she approached them, slowly, and listened to them. “after that i’m completely free.”

“free of what?” she popped in.

“media duties,” he explained, smiling.

“ugh, i’m busy all day. i think they left my secret santa segment for last.”

“well, of course, everyone knows how much you love that thing,” checo said.

“that’s true, i know,” she chuckled. “did you guys struggle to get your gift?”

“not really, mine is an inside joke with max,” checo shrugged, the name slipping from his lips without him noticing.

“aw that’s nice,” she smiled, feeling carlos looking at her.

“i’m not going to tell you who i got.”

“why? did you get me?” she tried, but carlos shook his head.

“i don’t mind, if it will help you sleep better. i didn’t get you,” fernando admitted, she looked at him gratefully.

“see, carlos? that’s what a good friend does!” she pointed at fernando, “thank you.”

mick called her name, she excused herself and walked to him, feeling his arm around her shoulders. 

“what are you doing?” he asked accusatorily. 

“we can tick checo and fernando off my list,” she gave him a smug smile, clearly content with her work for the night.

“you’re just not letting this go are you?” he asked, amused at her stubbornness, it didn’t surprise him, he knew her like the back of his hand, but it was still nice to see her trying her hardest to figure this out.

“this all can end if you just tell me who got me.” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder as everyone else gathered around, getting ready for the group picture. 

“you’ll know tomorrow. don’t worry.” he reassured her. she sighed.

-

the next day, mick and (y/n) were like two kids, she’d wanted to watch seb open the present she got him, and had convinced mick to help her make it happen in a way that wouldn’t be so obvious. it didn’t take that much to find a way to stay and watch seb.

they just found him as they walked pass, and asked if they could stay. the lady in charge of all of the f1 media just asked them to stay quiet.

“oh, this is very nice,” seb smiled as he took out the first present, “didn’t we have like $30 limit?” he chuckled, (y/n) and mick laughed too. the last gift was a dead giveaway, a picture of her, mick, and seb. when the two young drivers were just kids, barely starting karting against each other. it was from the first time they met sebastian in a “professional” environment. “oh, well, i think i know who this is from,” he grinned, his eyes darting to the two of them, with mick confused and (y/n) with a big smile on her face. he showed the picture to the camera, a different camera panning to the two haas drivers. “judging by their faces i’d say this is from (y/n),” he guessed. 

she nodded her head, and walked to him when he opened his arms for her. they hugged each other, she was going to miss him so much. he’d always been there for her. all throughout her career and her personal life. she looked up to him, admired him and everything he worked for, what he stood for. 

“thank you, dear, i loved all of my gifts,” she smiled, proud of herself. 

“thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” 

-

after an excruciatingly long day, it was her turn to film her secret santa section.

“i really hope you add a special montage of every time i’ve risked my life, and others’, trying to figure out who got me in this gift exchange,” she only half-joked, but it helped ease the mood with everyone around. mick, as usual, was sitting next to her, on the other side of the cameras.

“we’ll make sure of it,” the f1 producer nodded, making a mental note to check all the footage. once the cameras started rolling officially, she got her signature smile on, “(y/n), welcome to the 2022 f1 secret santa. i know this is something you’ve been looking forward all year long,” she nodded her head, “i won’t make you wait much longer so, here you go,” she was handed a small box, and her first instinct was to shake it to see if it made any noise.

“i hear a faint jingling.” she said, unwrapping the blue ribbon around the black box. “it’s blue! thanks santa!” she smiled, remembering the comment she’d made about her favorite color. “oh, whoa-” her eyes widened as she saw the gift. it was a necklace, with the outline of a track hanging in the middle. “it’s spa!” she giggled, recognizing the twists and turns. “oh my god, this is so nice, i-” her eyes widened as she stared at it, a light flush had creeped its way up to her cheeks. “oh, gosh, i-” she was at a loss for words, she was expecting maybe a gift that was partly a joke, or something small. this was too much. “i don’t think i can accept this.”

“do you have any clue as to who it might be?” they asked her, she was still too shocked to think.

“no. well, i mean the only person that pops in my head that might be this thoughtful is either mick or seb, but i guess maybe charles, too? i know he’s sponsored by a jewelry company,”

“you’re so close,” they told her. 

“pierre?” she guessed, it didn’t really make sense, he didn’t know that spa was her favorite track, well, to her knowledge.

“not quite,” she sighed.

“i don’t know. i-” she turned her head, seeing mick looking at her, throughout the entire time he could feel his eyes on her, it wasn’t anything different. but she saw a faint blush on his cheeks, his ears. “oh my god. no. are you shitting me?” she asked him, directly, not even looking at the cameras. “it was you? it’s been you this entire time?” she asked. and mick couldn’t hide it anymore, he smiled, nodding. “mick!” she ran to him, he stood up as she approached him and she jumped in his arms. “thank you, i love it,” she said.

“i’m glad you liked it,” he said, suddenly becoming shy under all of the stares.

once she returned to her spot, she couldn’t wipe the grin off her face. her fingers were playing with the chain that now hung from her neck. 

“how’d you know it was mick?” they asked her.

“well, not many people know that my favorite track is spa. i mean, they probably wouldn’t think it is given my bad luck there,” she said, referring to the fiasco last year and her dnf of that year after having a great race. “and he blushes a lot,” she added, chuckling. 

they hurried the rest of the video, as she thanked him once more, this time in front of the cameras. 

-

“i should’ve known,” she said as she shook her head. “i knew there was a reason you weren’t telling me.”

“ah, well, i had to keep the secret,” he chuckled. 

“i really love this, mick, thank you. you really didn’t have to get me something so…”

“oh, you’ll just have to wait and see what i’ve got in store for christmas,” he smiled, leaving her stunned there as he kept walking.

“what do you mean? you got my gift already?!” she asked, rushing to him again.

“i don’t know,” he shrugged, “maybe,” he said as he got into the elevator.

“what is it? can you give me a clue?” she asked.

“hmm… i can just say you’re going to love it,” mick smiled, already looking forward to their christmas trip, one that could possibly change the course of their friendship, possibly changing to something more. being her secret santa wasn’t the only secret mick was keeping.

[calummss]

having a baby with marshall mathers/eminem

masterlist

headcanon includes timeline, pregnancy and after birth bullet points

for the purpose of this headcanon the baby is called romy

timeline

i imagine marshall to also be young in this universe — 24 years old, can barely keep a job down. you work multiple jobs to pull through college. becoming parents was the last thing on your mind

finding out you were pregnant was a shock; as much sex as you two had, you always made sure to be protected, so when you suddenly realised your period was late and took a pregnancy test your heart literally dopped

you literally dropped everything, crammed the test into your pockets and marched through the frosty detroit morning to the restaurant marshall was currently employed under and asked to see him

marshall assured you that whatever conclusion you came to would be right and would support you no matter what

that definitely was the biggest weight lifted off your shoulders—the reassurance that marshall would stick with you if you decided to keep the baby

it was definitely a tough decision and took you almost two weeks to completely make up your mind

you ofc decided to keep the baby (otherwise whats the point of this headcanon?)

marshall promised to that he would be by your side and support his new family

literally 5 seconds after you told him you wanted to keep the baby, he pulled out a ring and said ‘thank god cause this is just a good excuse to marry you’

and we all know that having a child in marriage is far easier (but marshall also loved you and would’ve married you anyways)

baby mathers would be born on december 25th aka christmas because it would just be the best christmas present

what it would include (during pregnancy)

i feel like marshall is the type to be extra careful with you; offering his arm or hand when walking down steps, not letting you carry heavy things, making sure you cannot be hurt in whatever it is you are doing. and if any of his friends did something harmless but he saw it as a danger, he would be so pissed off

i also think it’s very possible for him to call your unborn baby ‘baby mathers; little slim’ something sweet that builds a connection

i imagine marshall to be very helpful with things around the house or other things that need to be done but he’ll definitely be pissed a few times because even though he understands that you’re supposed to relax and take care of yourself and the baby, he feels an extra burden so maybe he snaps once or twice? he immediately apologises but it’s a lot for a man who constantly takes new jobs and tries to be the best husband and father

i 100% see him talking to your stomach. he’ll talk to his daughter, catch her up on life and what he’s doing

‘hello baby, it’s daddy. mommy only has a few months left before we finally get to meet you. don’t take too long though because mama is startin’ to get very tired. the doctor said that you’re due for christmas. now daddy isn’t one who belives in destiny but you my little lady are goin’ to be our little christmas present. daddy has no money right now and that makes him feel like a bum but he’ll work extra hard to give you everything you ever want… if you ever want a unicorn you just come and let daddy know, okay?’

i have this gut feeling that he tries to hide his feelings. during this time marshall is so overwhelmed. he’s happy to welcome his daughter, stressed because he doesn’t know how long his job will last and how much money he can put down. you’ll find him crying in the kitchen one night after you wake up and couldn’t feel him beside you. you let him cry alone knowing he needed alone time

marshall will try to honour your cravings and buy you anything you want. if he’s short on money or can’t leave he will ask deshaun to swing by (and shaun cannot say no to you)

the d12 group will 100% pledge allegiance to baby mathers!! like you just now that as soon as you hang out together they’re gonna talk about how baby mathers will be protected at all costs, no one’s gonna f*ck with her etc. it’s like they’re her bodyguards ready to get at anyone’s neck who would even dare take a wrong glance at her

marshall’s arm would drape over your stomach when you two sleep at night. his arm would go from lying on a flat surface to a montain but he didn’t seem to mind. it was a habit he picked up

when you get closer to your due date this man would be stressed!! i mean stressed! any call out (shit, fuck, no, yes, what, literally the list goes on and on) would have a panting marshall by your side in less than a few seconds. he’s just waiting for your water to break. he’s extra careful during the last weeks because at this point you’re also stressed and just want the pregnancy to be done with

so when your water does finally break you know the bag is packed and in less than 5 minutes you’re on your way to the hospital, i just know it

extra: during labour he’s so supportive: holding your hand, motivating you, but deep inside he’s so much more stressed than you are lmao

what it would include (after birth)

he would not be able to let go of her. any time you turn away and look back he’d have little romy in his arms, literally hearts in his eyes as he stares down at her

you both decided on breastfeeding but you bought formula so that he could feed her and seeing him holding her in his arms feeding her the bottle makes your heart skip a beat. it allowed him to be as close to her as you were during feedings

he is absolutely obsessed with her hands. he loves how her baby hand wraps around his finger, and when she’s older the feeling of her small hand in his as it engulfs hers

plus he loves carrying her. he just loves the closeness. he will carry his baby girl anywhere and everywhere

marshall would be so proud to show her off to his friends. and if she wasn’t with him he’d find any reason to talk about her. they could be talking about the best ways to make a drink and he’d just start rambling about baby romy. some of them playfully roll their eyes but understand where he’s coming from

he’ll definitely be overwhelmed the first months when she wakes up crying in the middle of the night because it just adds to the stress but will never openly complain about it. he toughens up and goes to her room to calm her down

he’d have an addiction with baby clothes and browsing around stores literally fighting himself wether or not he actually needs to buy certain things

he’ll only address his daughter as ‘baby’ to the point you tell him to start calling her romy because she’d probably start to believe that baby was her name

marshall would definitely beat himself up trying to live up to his own expectations as a father. having no father to look up to, he tries to do his daughter justice but feels like he fails her in certain moments. those moments similar to those during pregnancy, he would sit alone in the kitchen just thinking about how to make things right

he’d insist on bringing baby romy EVERYWHERE. this man cannot stay away from her for longer than a few hours. she’s his serotonin, his lifeline

he’d have a piggy bank for her where he would put a 1/4 of his pay into so that she would be able to buy things she wanted

romy (and you) would serve as his main inspiration for music and also motivate him to work hard to make it out of greensbriar

after his rise to fame, despite his busy work schedule, marshall tries to spend as much time with her as possible

he tries to do few shows so that he’s not away from her and you for too long

with the rise of fame, his income flooded in. marshall buys her almost everything she wants. not stuff she doesn’t need but a lot. he’s not spoiling her in the way you think. he just wants her to have everything he didn’t have and make her happy. and if buying her a fourth barbie doll makes his baby smile then he will buy her that fourth barbie doll!!

though romy serves as his drive and motivation and inspiration for many of his songs, he tries to keep her out of the spotlight and out of hollywood. as soon as he’s done recording, attending award shows etc. he’s back on a plane to detroit to see his baby the only lady he adores (see what i did? ofc you did.)

he’d just be such an amazing father which you remind him of every day. he still doubts a lot but he’s starting to know his impact on her life

also romy comes before anything else!! daddy-daughter-day at kindergarten? sorry dre but this recording will be postponed. tour dates fall onto romy’s first day of school? yeah that tour night ain’t happening—i think you get what i’m trying to say. nothing will stop him from experiencing milestones and important memories in her life and in his life as a father (learned what not to do from his father)

the older she gets the more sentimental he becomes. seeing his baby grow up makes him sad and proud at the same time. she’s not only his whole world but she is the reason for him breathing and continuing in life even if it seems that life doesn’t want him to win

you made romy a cd with all the songs dedicated or about her from her daddy so when she’s in her room playing with dolls whatever, his songs are on repeat and the sight of it could make him fall to his knees (metaphorically speaking)

when romy turns 4 and older she’ll randomly make him watch her self choreographed dances or sing along to his songs and you best believe he is smiling and clapping after EVERY performance his baby girl gives!! he’s her number 1 fan. he even encourages her to show his friends and you already now they’re hyping up their little lady

and when romy is 15, oh she’s gonna rap him some of his songs and he’ll have the same reaction. maybe even share the stage for one song? who knows?

marshall is known for his rap and not for his cooking for a reason but he has few recipes like pancakes or foods he grew up with that are staples and enjoys cooking them for romy (she has her dad’s tastebuds 100%)

when romy has nightmares he’ll let her sleep in your bed for as long as she needs to feel safe again (deep down he never wants his baby to leave)

[gemstone-roses]

Christmas fic party request:

Where reader is an fbi tech (post red John) and shoots her shot at Jane at the Xmas party. Smut. Lots of smut. Very comforting because I just imagine him being SO lovely. Age difference mentioned.

Patrick Jane x female reader

Summary: your feeling brave, the man you’ve been pining for is older than you, surely he’s not interested in you, right? Smut. 18+ only,protected sex, praise kink, lots of praise, eye contact , so much praise ugh I’m mad for this man okay! I’m begging people to send in more requests for him 🙏🙏

Warnings: explicit smut, 18 plus ONLY. Smut, protected sex, praise kink x10. Fingering. Pet names, Minors be gone from here!

A:N - I’m super proud of this one. Thankyou for requesting I hope you liked it 🥹🥹please feel free to request more for Patrick Jane too!! ❤️

The wince on your face as you glance around the room is prominent. You only came tonight for one reason. And he’s not here.

Your colleagues are busy getting merry, rigsby and van pelt wearing matching Christmas jumpers and paper hats. The music is so loud you can feel it coursing through you.

Jane had seen your mood dip around the holidays and he had made you promise you would at least show your face. You agreed solely because he said he would accompany you and your heart fluttered at his offer. The small touch he left on your elbow, the reassurance in his face when he said ‘I’ll be with you the whole time’ had you screaming internally.

You weren’t the newest member of the team, but you were quite a bit younger than Jane, and as he is so observant you did your absolute best to keep your crush on him secret.

It had been a long few years.

Fed up of the party, you duck out and find yourself wandering straight into something tall and hard.

Patrick

“Oh shit I’m so- you start, blinking at him as you try and play it off.

“Are you okay?” He asks rubbing your arm soothingly.

It seems your brain has short circuited as you just stare at him, he looks good, so good.

“Hey” he says softly, moving his hand to cup your face.

“Hey Jane” you squeak out, praying he can’t tell how flustered you are.

His brows crease at you, his thumb runs across the curve of your cheek and you cannot take this anymore so you bring your hand up to connect with the hand that’s on your face.

His eyes bore into yours as you wait for him to pull his hand away.

But he doesn’t.

“Jane, I- I need to tell you something I - you whisper closing your eyes as you speak.

“I know” he says lowly

“You what!” You say, horrified, eyes shooting open as heat rises to your face.

You try and turn away but he stops you, hands flying to your waist, gripping tightly.

Your lips part slightly as you take in the man in front of you. He smiles, leans forward and

Runs his thumb across your lip and once again your brain short circuits, you think you might die right there. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the way your pulse starts picking up and your eyes blow wide at his action.

“Jane?” You ask, voice cracking

“Yeah honey?” His voice slightly deeper, it makes your pussy clench and your heart soar.

“I love you” you say, and for a moment you panic thinking he doesn’t feel the same and then he closes his eyes and sighs, before pulling you in closer

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited to hear that” he growls.

He searches your face for any kind of hesitation and you nod, he smiles as he shakes his head.

“Use your words my darling”

“Hurry up and kiss me, please” you whine,

Your breath hitches as he cups your face again and brings his lips to yours. His lips are soft, he presses into you as he deepens the kiss.

You can’t help but let out a moan as he presses into you, it’s comforting, safe, and leaves you wanting more.

“Patrick” you whisper, as he reluctantly breaks the kiss, his hand comes back to cup your face, finger stroking slowly down your cheek.

“You okay?” He checks.

You nod a bit too quickly, and he chuckles.

“Shall we, go somewhere more private?” He whispers as he leans in to place a feather light kiss to your neck.

“God, yes” you mutter. He grabs your hand instantly and leads you up to his room above the office.

“It’s cold in here” you mutter as he shuts the door to his living space, instantly his arms are around you again, catching your lips in a searing kiss he cages you against the wall. One of his arms rest on the wall, the other tracing down to your waist. Your chest heaves as he teases his fingers up and down underneath your shirt.

“Please” you whine and he smirks, dipping his hand beneath the waistband.

“God your dripping” he murmurs rubbing your throbbing pussy through your panties. You clench your thighs together at his actions, and his words.

“Jane” you croak, desperate, needy.

“I love the sound of my name falling from your lips” he breathes, making you look at him before moving your panties and sliding in a finger.

It’s agonisingly slow, and of course Patrick can tell your getting frustrated with his teasing.

He speeds up a bit before adding another finger, your walls flutter around his fingers.

“Mm, Jane fuck” you whisper, he increases the pressure and starts to curl his fingers up as they enter you. His thumb comes to circle your clit and he catches your moan with a kiss.

“D-don’t stop” you moan as he presses his thumb into your clit as he curls his fingers hitting your G spot.

“Oh OH god” you whine

“That’s it honey” he soothes, breaking the kiss as your walls clench around his fingers.

“Jane” you say as you feel your orgasm approaching

“Come for me, that’s it, good girl” he says as he curls his fingers once more and you see stars as your orgasm crashes over you.

He holds you steady, fingers lazily pushing in and out of you as he fingers you through your orgasm.

“You okay”? He whispers placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You nod and he pulls you into his embrace.

“God that was- incredible” you pant, leaning in to give him a kiss.

He pulls you gently towards his bed.

He pushes you gently and you fall back

“Lie down” he whispers, he’s out of breath and it’s so arousing you can’t help the throb that courses through you.

Patrick unbuttons his suit jacket, hanging it up on the chair he climbs on top of you. Once again you feel safe within his presence.

His arms come to rest on either side of your head, he looks down at you, a soft smile on his face.

“Stop it” you say, trying to turn away from his stare.

“Don’t, don’t do that, your beautiful, let me see you yeah?” he tilts your face to look at him, as if you could love this man any more.

“Would you like to stop?” He asks and his face tells you that he would not mind one bit if you said yes, which just makes your heart pound faster in your chest.

“No, I’d very much like to continue” you say. And Jane runs his hand across your face, smiling.

You can feel Jane’s cock pressing into your leg through his jeans and you shift your hips slightly. He sucks in a breath as you sit up to undo his belt.

You do it slowly, payback. But it doesn’t last long as he ends up pulling it off himself before guiding you to lie back down.

He stands up and removes his pants before coming back and resting his hands at the top of yours.

He waits.

You nod.

He pulls down your pants and can’t help but moan at the wet patch in the middle of your underwear.

Your breath hitches as he leans down and presses his lips into your clothed pussy and hooks his fingers in the line of your panties and pulls them down.

Jane frees his hard cock from his boxers and it springs up against his stomach. A drop of precum glistening on the head.

You clench your thighs at the sight. Jane reaches for the condom under his bed and rolls it down.

He pumps his cock a few times before lining up with your entrance.

You breathe in as you prepare.

Jane’s hand find your clit once more,he watches your face as his fingers circle your clit. You relax slightly as he continues his actions.

“Hey” he says softly

“I’m okay” you say.

“Take a deep breath for me darling” he places one hand on your lower stomach and the other wraps around his cock.

You do, and he slides his cock into you, slowly.

“Good girl, keep breathing for me” he soothes as he pushes his cock all the way in. Your breath catches in your throat as he pushes deeper into you.

“Keep looking at me” he says and you throb around him.

“You’re doing so good for me” he praises as he goes to rub your clit again.

“Patrick” you whisper

“Can you- I need you to go-

“I know, I know” he coos, rubbing your hips with his hand,

“I’ll go slow, I got you” he soothes before thrusting into you slowly. One of his hands is still splayed across your stomach.

“Mmhm” you whine.

“You feel so good around my cock like this” he says, pushing his cock in and out, he feels you clench around him as he speaks.

You close your eyes as he angles himself a little differently, still thrusting slowly, but his cock is hitting your g spot.

“Patrick- fuck” you choke out.

“Mm, you make the prettiest sounds” he breathes, every moan out of you sending him closer to release.

He moves his hand from your stomach as he reaches for your puffy clit, gently applying pressure as he thrusts into you.

“Patrick, I’m-

“Look at me, good girl, come for me, come all over my cock” he encourages as he presses into you again.

You hear him groan just as his cock twitched inside you and your pussy clenches,

Your toes curl and you see stars as your orgasm washes over you. Your ears ring as you hear muffled praise falling from Patrick’s mouth as you come down from your high.

“So good for me, you did so good, you’re incredible my love” he soothes, rubbing gentle circles into your hip.

You whimper underneath him. He places his hands on either side of your face.

“Jane, that was - god that was perfect you say a lazy smile painting your face. A big smile lights up his face, “I love you” he says, placing a gentle kiss to your lips.

“I’ve wanted to say that for a very long time” he admits.

“Me too” you say shy all of a sudden, turning your face from him.

He tuts

“No honey, what did I say about doing that, now, I’ll get you a warm towel and some water and I’ll be back in a moment” he soothes as he gets up.

And you, couldn’t be happier.

[starlightsuffered]

Christmas Breeding

Info - infertility issues, soft Dom Timothée, pregnant reader, pregnant sex, breeding kink, cock warming

The day had been done slowly. Timothée wanted to cherish every moment he had with me. I did as well but ! was desperate for him to get to my surprise.

Timothée and I had been married for four years. We'd been trying desperately to get pregnant for the last two.

He'd been extremely discouraged when time after time the test was negative.

He'd decided that he would take off all of December so we could focus on just fucking. We made love on every surface of the house imaginable. However, when l'd ask if he wanted to check on my potential progress, he always said no. I knew he was scared and blamed himself.

He said we would officially check on the first of the new year. I hadn't been able to wait so long.

Last Friday I had felt it. My orgasm had been more earth shattering that it ever had. I'd felt like we were one and connected in our souls. I knew that had done it. I knew I was pregnant.

I had taken three tests and they'd all come back positive. I'd sobbed for joy. I'd gone to the doctor's to make absolutely sure. It seemed everyone agreed. I was pregnant.

I hoped Timothée wouldnt be upset with me for checking earlier than we agreed. I hoped he wouldn't be because I was excited beyond belief. I couldn't wait to show him the positive tests.

"Why don't we hope for luck on this Yule day and make love to see if it sticks," he crooned.

"Oh of course," I said. I began to slowly take off my short to show off my Christmas themed lingerie, but then I pretended | noticed something.

"Oh, Timmy, I think there's something left in your stocking," I said casually. A grin unfurled on his face. He winked at me.

"Cheeky," he chuckled. He clearly thought | had a sexy surprise.

My palms were slick. My legs felt like they might give way. I didn't know what he'd say or do. I was worried about shouting and blame even though Timothée was nothing like that.

"What- what is this?" He asked. His large hand shook as he held up the positive test.

"What does it look like?" I asked with a shaky smile.

"But, but, it's positive," he said slowly.

"Yes it is," | nodded.

"And it's yours? This is your test?" He clarified.

"Yes it is," I said, holding myself.

He dove into the stocking again. The multiple positive tests fell out. He breathed heavily as he held them and stared and stared.

"Is this a dream?" He asked with big watery eyes.

"No, it's not. I even went to the doctor and got checked out. I'm sorry I didn't tell you but-" He had marched across the room and kissed me forcefully on the mouth. His hands roamed all over me. He was sobbing gratefully into my mouth. I swallowed his noises of joy. I was electrified by overwhelming happiness.

"My beautiful girl, you are giving us a baby," he said.

"Yes I am, I will, I can't wait," I rambled.

"Get on the floor," he demanded. "And clothes off!"

I was glad that although I was pregnant, his dominate streak was still here. I tore off my pajama pants and I was just in my red and white lingerie. I laid out, on display for him.

"Oh no, I'm not on top, not while your beautiful body is growing my child," he growled. His clothing had been torn off as well, and his cock was throbbing and hard.

In seconds he was on the floor and he had me. He was ripping off my thong. He shoved the fabric against his nose.

"You smell even better pregnant," he moaned. He lowered me onto his dick and then he was thrusting upward harshly.

"I want that beautiful stomach all round with my cum," he groaned. "Such a good girl getting pregnant. You took my cock so well, so many times."

"I did, I did!" | whined as I met his thrust. He felt so good stretching me out. He was bouncing me up and down.

"I knew you could do it baby, I fucking believed in you so much," he promised.

"You did it too," I managed to get out over the pleasure. "All that, fuck, cum!"

"Yeah y/n you took it so well and I filled you because you're a perfect girl who deserves to be filled to bursting with cum," he was growling almost possessively. I knew his dominance and possession would get even more intense now. I couldn't wait.

"I will be, I'll be bursting," I agreed as I placed my hands on my stomach.

"That's right! Who put a baby in you?" He asked.

"Y-you did," I gasped.

"Say my name," he demanded.

"Timothée put A baby inside me," | nodded my head.

"That's my girl," he grunted. I could feel him throbbing and twitching inside me. He was gripping me. One hand came and held my stomach.

"Gotta put as much cum inside your tight pussy as possible," he said as his hips snapped.

"M'already pregnant," | moaned, completely cock drunk.

"Gotta make sure. I need to breed that womb over and over to make sure you stay pregnant with my baby," he swore.

"I'm gonna come," | cried as I my walls clenched him. I let out a wail as I came undone. I saw stars as my body convulsed and twitched.

"Gonna cum, gonna cum inside you," he moaned. He pulled me down so I was flush with him. He was spilling ropes inside of me. He was crying out too, so pleasured and overwhelmed. His load had never been so large.

"Don't get off. Stay on my dick," he pleaded as we came down. We were both still throbbing. I nodded and laid down on his chest. He pulled a blanket over us. Every so often he'd thrust up a little bit to make sure he could still feel his cum inside me. He would sigh in satisfaction when he did.

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[ellabsies]

christmas with abby

a/n: cain here! a short lil oneshot for our girl made by yours truly <3 bro i was supposed to post this yesterday but i got high and sleepy. late but enjoy! v short and sweet. blurb?

contains: fluff. slight angst. implied smut. no outbreak.

you surprised abby first thing in the morning with hot chocolate instead of her usual dark roasted coffee. she took a sip and looked at you with a raised eyebrow, “what’s this?” she asked.

“hot chocolate. i even included whip cream and marshmallows with it. you looked at her with a smile.

“thanks? you know i prefer coffee, though.”

“it’s christmas, abs.”

“yes - they make christmassy flavors, right?”

“well… i didn’t get any! drink your hot chocolate…” you frowned at her. abby shrugged and blew on her cup before taking a sip.

“sorry, baby. i don’t mean to be ungrateful. i appreciate everything you do for me.” she pats the space beside her so you could sit.

you nod. you knew christmas wasn’t everything to her. if you’re honest, you stopped having good christmases yourself years ago. this was only the second christmas you got to spend with her so far. last year she refused to celebrate and you couldn’t do anything but accept it. this year you managed to convince her, wanting to prove to her that christmas would be better with just the two of you. even if you guys didn’t go all out.

“next year, i’ll definitely get some christmas and winter themed creamers, okay? i promise.”

abby hummed, taking another sip of her hot cocoa. “you don’t have to prove anything to me.”

you did, though. you wanted to prove to her that the holidays weren’t so bad as long as you had someone to spend them with. you two had each other now so you wanted to prove her wrong.

“oh! i forgot. i’ll be back.” you jumped up from beside her and headed off into the room you shared with her. you came back a few moments later with something held behind your back.

“what’s that?” abby asked.

“close your eyes.” you said. abby rolled them before doing so. you put her gift in her lap, telling her she could open them once again. abby complied and held the object in her hands.

a stocking. with her name on it. filled with various treats and such.

abby’s face quickly reverted to confusion, to shock, to pure happiness. she held the object between her fingers and admired the neatness of her name sprawled across it.

“look inside. i promise it’s worth it.”

abby looked at you with wide eyes sparkled with kid-like joy. she dug inside and pulled out all the contents.

various amounts of candy and other christmas related snacks. hygiene products. a giftcard to her favorite gamestore. $50 in cash. and best of all, a mini collection of rare coins.

abby gushed at the last one. she held the box frame within her hands, shaking it to hear it jingle. she smiled at you and pulled you down for a kiss.

“thank you. thank you so much.”

“anything for you. i told you christmas wasn’t so bad. maybe next year we can go all out?”

abby didn’t have an actual gift to give you, but she did take you to see the christmas lights downtown when it got dark. she also made love to you later that night by the fireplace.

[hearts401]

A Shitty Brother Kinda Christmas

(7,441 words)

Evan invites Michael over for Christmas after not speaking to him for over two years now. Shenanigans ensue

Michael was cold.

He was also annoyed and bored and excited and the slightest bit nervous.

But right now, he was just cold.

He was sitting out in the middle of nowhere waiting for a bus that had either already come or was nearly a half an hour late.

He was praying it was the latter.

It didn’t help that he’d had literally no time to prepare. Evan had called him at six in the morning and he’d had to rush to find a gift and means for transportation and it didn’t help that everything was closed for Christmas. So he’d thrown on the only coat he had and went for the first bus he could catch. Now he was stuck out in the snow waiting for a bus that might not even arrive.

But some things were worth getting hypothermia for.

Unfortunately for Michael, this was not feeling like one of those things. But it was a second chance, and he’s fucked up too much to give up on a second chance. Frankly, when Evan had asked for his number, he’d already expected not to hear from him ever again, and he’d made peace with that. As much peace as he could at least. It wasn’t something he thought about a lot, and he doubted Evan thought about it much either.

But today his head’s been full of it, as unpleasant as that is.

When the bus finally pulled up, the driver assured him that the snow was what caused the delay, and apologized profusely. Michael didn’t care, he was just glad it came at all.

The bus was almost entirely empty, which made his life a lot easier. He clicked on his phone, not that there was anything to look at. It was Christmas, after all.

When Evan had invited him, he’d known it would be disappointing to Jeremy; He always looked forward to Christmas, but he promised they’d have their own little Christmas when he got back, but this was the first time he’d spoken to Evan in… Forever. His little brother had a house for god’s sake! A house! And he lived with his friend! That friend who’d punched Michael, the friend who always let Evan stay over his house, the friend he’d totally definitely not gotten into a fist fight with more than once all because of his own stubborn attitude.

So yeah, Michael was a jerk. But in his defense, Gregory was stubborn too.

His phone pinged and he picked it up. It was Evan again. Geez, why did he keep calling? Michael had already agreed, he didn’t want to talk to him right now, not yet.

But he can’t keep putting it off, and he doesn’t wanna seem like he’s avoiding Evan. (Even though he is, technically.)

“Hello? Hello, hello?” He said, “What’s up?”

“It’s me.” Evan said, “Just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay? I’m really sorry it’s such short notice.”

“It’s whatever.” Michael replied, “The bus was late though.”

“It’s Christmas, that’s expected.” Evan replied.

This was weird. Not a bad weird, but not a good weird either.

“Yeah.” Is all he said, “Uhm, is there anything else you need? The service here is ass.”

“Uh, no, I was calling to tell you if the bus hadn’t come to just forget it because I didn’t want you to keep waiting. It’s cold outside.”

“No shit.” He said with a dry laugh, “I’m gonna go now. Bad service, you know how it is.”

“Oh? O-Okay, yeah, bye.” Evan said.

“Bye.” Michael said before hanging up and sitting back against the seat.

“Shitty service?” He mumbled to himself, “Idiot.”

“Well, that sucked.” Elizabeth said. She was hanging decorations she’d brought since their house wasn’t “Christmas ready” in her words.

“He’s probably just tired.” Charlie said, “I’m sure he’s happy you invited him.”

“Well maybe the invitation isn’t what’s got him in the dumps and maybe it’s more the timing?” Elizabeth said.

Evan shrunk back, “I really didn’t notice how close it was getting to Christmas, I just… I couldn’t decide if I wanted to invite him…”

Elizabeth shrugged, “Fair, I guess. I usually invite him over but he spends his Christmas with his friends a lot.”

“His friends?” Charlie asked, “Jeremy?”

“And those other kids from middle school.”

Evan scrunched up his nose, “He still hangs out with those guys?”

“Yeah?” Elizabeth climbs down the small step ladder she was on, “They’re his friends.”

Evan huffs, “Yeah, I know.” He mutters.

Charlie offers a small smile at him, nudging him, “He’s not bringing any of them, it’s just him, Ev.” She says, “I’m sure everything will be okay.”

He nods slowly, “Yeah, yeah I guess.”

“Hey, Evan?” Gregory calls from the other room where he’s helping Sammy set up for dinner.

“O-oh, yeah?”

“Why does Michael do that weird ‘hello? Hello, hello?’ thing?”

Evan blinked, “I… I don’t know, actually.”

“Oh my god he does that all the time I don’t think he even realizes it!” Elizabeth said, “It drives me insane!”

Charlie laughed, “Yeah, Sammy says he does it every time he calls him.”

“He does!” Sammy said, “Every time. I asked him about it once and he was just as confused as me! He just does it. It’s like an instinct.”

Gregory laughed too, “That is funny as hell I’m never letting him live that down.”

“Oh, speaking of living things down,” Evan hopped off his bed and headed to the kitchen, “You’re gonna be on your best behavior. If you and him fight, I’m sticking you both outside.”

“If you put me outside with him I’ll bury him alive in the snow.” Gregory said.

“I’m serious.” Evan said, “I don’t want you fighting with him.”

It’s not that Evan didn’t appreciate Gregory standing up for him, but it was stressful. He didn’t want his friend hurt for him, and he certainly didn’t want to spend Christmas breaking up his brother and his best friend.

Gregory looked over at Evan, “Yeah, of course.” He said, “No fighting.”

“And that means no punching, kicking, swearing, snapping, pushing, shoving-”

“Okay, okay, okay, no fighting.” Gregory said, “But he needs to back off sometimes, I’m gonna let him know.”

“I can let him know.” Evan said, “We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a family!”

They all turned to look at him.

“We’re going to have a nice Christmas like a… decent dysfunctional patchwork family…” He rephrased, “I-I guess.”

Gregory laughed at that, “It’ll be fun, I’m sure.”

“I wish you could’ve invited Nessa,” Evan said, “I’m sure she’d have loved to meet Mike.”

When Michael finally arrived, he was met with the entire house laughing at him. Even Evan couldn’t hide his amusement at seeing his brother pull up to his house soaking wet and shaking like a leaf.

“You look great.” Sammy said.

“Piss off.” Michael muttered.

“Come inside, you look like you’re gonna freeze to death.” Charlie said.

“I feel like it too.” Michael muttered.

They brought him inside and Evan found himself suddenly regretting every decision that led up to this.

He felt sick, and he realized with a shock that there was a reason he had avoided Michael. He didn’t know what to say to him, what to do with him, or what to talk about. What do you say to your big brother who you ghosted for nearly two years after getting his number? What do you say to the person who ruined your life? What do you say to the person who treated you like shit and almost killed you and only formally apologized a couple years ago?

Gregory must have noticed because he discreetly led Evan back to his room and sat down with him.

“Not ready?” He asked.

“Not at all.” He said, flopping onto his back.

“What is it?” Gregory asked, laying down beside him.

“I don’t know. I haven’t spoken to him in forever and I was cool with that but then we did talk again and then we split up again and I just… How can I never speak to him again after that? How can I not give him at least a chance to be better? But at the same time… I don’t want to talk about The Thing, and I don’t want to bring it up but I can’t move on if I don’t and I feel sick thinking about it because what if it goes wrong? What if I fuck it up? What if he fucks it up? What if all this bullshit was for nothing this whole time and I’m just gonna end up hating him more than I already do?”

Gregory listens intently, staring at Evan, “You know, I told you not to invite him.”

“I know but-”

He continues speaking, interrupting Evan, “But! You insisted. Why?”

“Because I want to give him another shot.” Evan said.

“And he came because…” Gregory raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Because he wants to take that shot.” Evan said, slowly understanding.

“So, you want to give him a chance? You don’t have you, you don’t owe anything to him, especially forgiveness. Do you wanna cut this short? Nobody would blame you if you did. I sure as hell wouldn’t.”

Evan sits up, “I guess.”

Gregory smiles, “Why don’t you take some time, dinner’s not done yet. Nobody’s rushing you, and I’m sure Michael is just as nervous. The only difference is that he deserves it.”

Evan laughs a bit at that, “Be nice.” He said.

“No promises!” Gregory called as he walked out of the room.

Frankly, Gregory was right. Michael was just as nervous. In fact, he wanted to curl up in a ball and sink into a hole and die right about now. He didn’t know where to sit so he ended up standing awkwardly off to the side.

Unfortunately for him, Sammy was quick to act like he owned the place. Gregory and him were like siblings, to be fair.

“Come on Mike, sit down.” Sammy said, “What’s wrong, are you nervous?”

“No. Not at all.” He muttered, “I just prefer standing.”

“Yeah, well, you look out of place with the Christmas decorations and I need to take photos so unless you wanna be my santa clause, I suggest you move.” Elizabeth said.

“You're as blunt as ever.” He muttered.

“Thanks, I try my best.” She replied with a grin.

He sat down next to Sammy, pulling out his phone, only to have Charlie grab it away from him, ignoring the indignant noise he made.

“Aw, Jeremy? Are you guys dating yet?” She teased.

“Wha- no! Give that back!” He lunged, reaching for it, but she snatched it away too quickly.

“Come on, Mike, you’ve gotta have something interesting in your life, how’s my dad?”

“Uncle Henry’s doing fine.” He answered as he continued to chase her around, “Give it back Charlie!”

“What pictures do you have? Aw, is that your dog?” Charlie pulled up a picture.

“No, it’s Jeremy’s! Now give it back!”

“What’s its name?” She asked.

Michael looked over at Elizabeth and exaggeratedly gestured at Charlie, but she just laughed at him.

“She missed messing with you, this is your own fault.” She said.

“She’s right, messing with Evan isn’t as fun. He doesn’t get mad like you do.” Charlie said.

Michael scowled at her, but he couldn’t deny that it made him feel a lot better though. 

When Gregory and Evan returned, Michael offered a smile and a small wave at Evan, that his brother slowly returned.

Evan was pale, but Michael didn’t mention it; He probably was too. Although that could just be from sitting out in the snow for half an hour.

He was still a bit upset about that.

Elizabeth invited him to sit beside her, which ended up sticking him right beside Evan, who had Gregory on his other side, who had Sammy next to him, and then Charlie beside him, and then it came full circle back to Elizabeth.

Great, cool, cool cool cool cool cool. This could go one of two ways:

One, it goes horrible and awful and everything that could go wrong does go wrong.

Or two, it goes fine and Michael’s overreacting.

But he could tell Evan was uncomfortable, and the tension was uncomfortable for him as well.

He took a breath before standing abruptly, “Actually, I ate at home and I could totally just grab a hotel or something so I’m gonna-”

“You’re not leaving.” Evan said.

Michael turned to him, “I’m sorry what?”

Evan shrunk back, “I-I just mean- you can stay here. Uhm… Unless you really don’t want to which is fine but you know you should stay here with us because it’ll make it easier and honestly who sleeps in a hotel on Christmas Eve I mean-”

“Okay! Okay. That- we can do that, that’s fine.” Michael said. He sat back down slowly, staring hard at his plate.

“And I can tell you didn’t eat at home.” Evan said, “I don’t like that you’re lying to me.”

Michael doesn’t reply to that, shrugging.

Evan’s eyebrows furrow, but he doesn’t say anything else. Gregory leans in next to him and whispers something, though.

So it went bad. Not awful, but bad. Michael didn’t eat much, but the food was good. Henry knew how to cook, and it seemed like he’d taught the twins how to cook as well.

Elizabeth leans back in her chair, “So, now that we’ve invited Michael, who wants to send a call to dear old dad? I have his number.”

Evan groans, “Not again with this…”

“Please, please Evan it would be so funny please.” Gregory shot up in his chair, “Please you didn’t let me do it to Michael let me do it to your dad.”

“Do what to Michael?” Michael asked.

“They wanted me to prank call you guys and send you random shit. Gregory, my dad will find and kill us all. I hope you know that.”

Prank call his dad? Prank call the William Afton?

“No wait I like this idea, Ev, we should do it one hundred percent.” Michael said.

“See? He agrees.” Elizabeth said.

Evan rolled his eyes, “You guys are the worst.”

“We’re the best actually.” Charlie said, “And it’s uhhhh… five against one.”

Evan sighed, “Do what you want. I need to set up our room anyway.”

Charlie cheered.

“I actually think I’m still in his contacts.” Michael said, “He keeps texting me, I don’t read 'em though.” He didn’t tell them that he repeatedly hesitated and refused to block his dad for a reason he himself couldn’t fathom. But to be fair, Lizzie hadn’t blocked him either. In fact, she still messaged him back sometimes. Even if the conversations weren’t friendly, he couldn’t imagine talking to his dad ever again, he didn’t know how she did it. 

“And we don’t wanna start today, let’s use Charlie’s phone.” Sammy said.

They spent the night sending random images to William until he blocked them, and then they went on to relentlessly call Jeremy, who had apparently been asleep, before they went on to call Gregory, and stayed on call with him while he and Evan set up.

It was weird how normal this was. It was weird how quickly it had become just spending Christmas together instead of unloading 15 years of bullying and 21 years of loathing.

But then again, they were the Afton family, pretending to be normal was their whole thing. They did it for the first eighteen years of Michael’s life.

But he could sit back and enjoy this before the incredibly uncomfortable conversation that was inevitable. If him and Evan would quit avoiding it.

Gregory then came in to let them know the room was ready.

Sitting down in Evan’s house was one thing. Sleeping in it was a whole other thing. He felt like a teen again, when his dad was in the hospital for one of his springlock accidents and Michael had to stay with Henry while he was gone. That had sucked. His dad hadn’t wanted to bring him over Henry’s house, so he hardly knew Charlie and Sammy, and because of that he’d felt so out of place in their house. Not to mention his siblings were there, and by then he was sick to death of them.

Thinking back on it, he did have a lot of issues as a kid. Maybe he still had them. Who was he to dwell on it, though.

Michael Afton has issues, like that’s news.

This time he made a point to sit beside Elizabeth. She wasn’t the best choice, but she was the only one who still messaged him. Despite how she acted, she always wanted a family. But she got the Aftons, which is more like a classification than a family.

She gave him a disappointed look, but he ignored it.

The decorations in the room were really cool. They had lights strung up on the walls and they’d put up blankets to hang over them, as well as covering up the window. The floor was layered with blankets and pillows, and Michael noticed it looked like a nest.

He had taught Evan how to make nest-like pillow forts when he was only four. Michael had been seven, and hadn’t even been good at teaching, but Evan had really enjoyed it. Michael hadn’t enjoyed teaching him, but it kept the kid quiet and that’s all he’d needed. But this fort was obviously not a product of his teaching, since it was unlikely Evan remembered that.

Weird that he’d remember that. It felt like a karmic “fuck you” from the universe.

Evan was really enjoying this. He didn’t feel as anxious anymore, and it felt almost normal. He had been preoccupied with everything else to think about The Thing and it made him feel a lot better about it. He was also proud of the pillow fort, which Gregory had helped with a lot. They’d had it planned for a while, and he was glad it turned out so well.

Good food, good bed, good friends, and so far no issues with Michael. None that he wanted to talk about yet, at least.

This was a good day! A great day! And hopefully a great Christmas day would follow!

He was quick to pull his friends into it and talk to them about it. He loved how cozy it looked. Like a shiny little nest. It was awesome and he loved it so much.

“Wait. Wait! I need my camera!” He went out to the kitchen, “Gregory? Do you know where I put my camera?”

“I put it in the end table drawer! The bottom one, next to the couch!” Gregory called back.

“Awesome. Thank you!” He grabbed it and ran back into the room, “Mike get in the back you’re the tallest, Gregory and Charlie, I need you guys up front. Elizabeth, get closer to Mike, come on. Sammy, you’re perfect there don’t move. It’s on a ten second timer so hold that for a moment!”

He ran over to them, positioning himself beside Michael and behind Gregory.

He went to grab his camera when it was done, smiling at the picture, “It looks awesome, I can’t wait to print it.” He said.

The others crowded over to see.

“You’re pretty good at sitting still and looking pretty.” Charlie teased Michael, “It’s your one redeeming quality.”

Michael shoved her face away with his hand, “Oh piss off.”

“He said the thing again!” Sammy cheered, “He said it earlier too. I feel like I’m in England every time I talk to him.”

“Did I tell you guys about that time Evan screamed ‘you cunt’ at the top of his lungs?” Gregory said.

“No! No! You promised you wouldn’t tell them about that!” Evan wails, grabbing Gregory’s arm.

“He was playing a racing game or something and he just lost big time. Huge time. Horribly. Awful. It was embarrassing.”

“Gregory!”

“And he just shouted at the top of his lungs. In the most British I’ve ever heard him, it was insane.” Gregory continues, “He had to apologize to our neighbors. It was hilarious.”

Evan covered his face, “It was awful, I felt so bad.” He groaned.

Michael chuckled, “That’s funny, Lizzie was always the one who used British slang. She got it from our father.”

Elizabeth shoved him playfully, “Okay Mr. I-Say-Bloody-Hell-And-Piss-Off-Every-Five-Seconds.”

“Pi- leave me alone!” Michael said indignantly.

“He almost said it again!” Charlie said, laughing.

“Jeez, you people are impossible.” He said.

At that moment, his phone rang. “Oh, shit, it’s Jeremy. I’ll be right back!”

Evan watched Michael leave, his head tilted slightly to the side.

Gregory nudged him, “Feel better?”

“A bit… Thanks.” He answered.

Gregory smiled, “I told you it’d be okay.”

Evan nodded, “I’m stressing out a bit still but I do feel better. Maybe I was just overreacting.”

“Mike is being super weird though.” Elizabeth said, “He’s not usually like this with his friends.”

“Well duh,” Charlie said, “he’s overthinking just as much as Evan is. He’s just shit at hiding it because he’s not a ball of fear and sadness the way Evan is.”

Evan frowned, “Well I wish he’d just act normal. I don’t like that he keeps lying to me. He makes everything harder than it has to be.”

Charlie hummed, “He’s just scared. Like a little animal in the woods.”

Evan couldn’t stop his sudden and loud laughter at that.

But he did feel angry. He wasn’t going to say it, he wasn’t sure he was ready to say it, but he felt it. Michael wasn’t even trying.

“I’m gonna use the bathroom real quick.” He told Gregory.

Michael knew the call wasn’t Jeremy. He also knew it would end long before he wanted it to. It’d been one of his friends from middle school, and they had hung up several minutes ago. But he liked the silence while it lasted.

“So, you’re avoiding me?” Evan asked from directly beside him. 

Michael jumped with a shout, nearly falling off the couch.

“Jesus Christ, Evan!” He gasped, “Don’t do that!”

Evan didn’t react, “Whatcha doin’?”

“Sitting… on the couch?”

Evan’s eyebrows furrowed. He looked like Dad when he did that.

“No, actually,” he said, “you’re being a bum. Alone on Christmas? Come on, we’re heading to bed now.”

Michael nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

They spent the night doing random things. Charlie told some scary stories, they watched a movie, Michael showed them his playing card collection and Evan beat Gregory at war at least ten times, and Elizabeth got a whole console out and they played a few different games.

Of course, the tension did not leave. Everytime he accidentally bumped into Evan or one of them said something a little too… Iffy… it only got thicker.

When he looked over at his little brother, he noticed he was asleep. Him and everyone else.

Well, except for one.

“Can’t sleep?” Gregory asked.

Michael shrugged, “Who can sleep on Christmas Eve?”

Gregory eyed the others, “Them, apparently.”

Michael chuckled, “Yeah, I guess so.” He said.

They fell silent, and Michael laid down on his back, staring at the blankets hung above him.

“You know I don’t want you here, right?”

“Yeah. I know.”

“But he does. Don’t ruin that for him. Or Elizabeth. She said she’s been trying to get you to come over for Christmas.”

Michael stares at him, “I don’t talk to her a lot, I thought she was just being nice.”

“She was.” Gregory said, “I don’t doubt she was. But she still likes talking to you. I don’t know, don’t you think maybe she actually cared if she asked every year?”

Michael scoffed, “I told her every year that I spend my Christmas with Jeremy. Or Henry.”

“Speaking of Henry, what’s he doing for Christmas if Charlie and Sammy aren’t there?”

Gregory sat up, “Charlie said He remarried or something.”

“Really?” Michael said, “That’s… He didn’t tell me that…”

“I might be wrong but that’s what I heard.”

 “Hm.”

Gregory looked over at him, “You’re kind of a loser, you know that?”

Michael stared at him for a moment before he burst out laughing.

Gregory shushed him, “You’re gonna wake them up, shut your mouth!” He hissed.

Michael flopped over on his back, still laughing, though he tried to keep quiet, “You are incredibly blunt.”

“Well, to be fair, I don’t particularly like you very much,” Gregory said.

“I can tell.”

When Gregory heard him go quiet, he glanced over his shoulder.

“Lightweight.”

Evan woke up with a pillow being chucked at his face the moment he sat up.

So he stayed down.

But he could hear Charlie and Michael laughing.

Michael sounded like he’d been doing this for a while, and Charlie kept squealing. The noise was quickly giving him a headache, but it made him feel better about the day, and that’s all he needed anyways.

The day?

Holy shit it’s Christmas.

Evan bolted upright, “It’s Christmas.”

Gregory laughed, “Yeah, it is.”

Elizabeth threw herself on Evan and pulled him into a hug, “Morning sleepyhead!” She said, “You’re the last one to wake up.”

“We’ve been waiting forever.” Sammy groaned, “So I started chucking pillows at you and seeing if you’d wake up.”

“I told him not to.” Gregory said.

Evan smiled, “You guys are amusing. Has anyone made breakfast?”

Charlie points at Michael, “I told him to.”

Michael pushes her finger away from his face, “And I told her that I have not cooked something edible since I was 15.”

Elizabeth shuddered, “That lasagna was not edible.”

“Har har har.” Michael muttered, “at least I tried.”

Charlie sat up, “Me and Sammy made dinner, it’s someone else’s turn.”

“I vote Greg does it.” Sammy said.

“What? Why me?” Gregory whined, “I always do it!”

“I’ll make it.” Evan said.

“I’ll come help.” Elizabeth jumped to her feet.

She grabbed Michael’s arm, “I’ll show you what edible actually means.”

Charlie waved Michael goodbye with a smirk on her face as he scowled.

Evan took out the stupid cinnamon rolls in the weird circle can thingy? He didn’t know anything about them but they were good so who cares.

Michael frowned, “This is breakfast?”

“You look like you live off ramen noodles, shut up and enjoy Christmas dinner as it should be.” Evan said.

Michael blinked a few times.

“… You don’t… You don’t actually live off noodles, do you?”

“…”

So Evan learned several unpleasant things about Michael’s eating habits.

But so far, so good. He’d only felt soul crushing anxiety twice since Michael got here!

So… Good?

He wasn’t sure but it wasn’t bad so that had to mean something.

Despite joking around, Evan was a bit irritated. Michael was still being weird and it didn’t help that Elizabeth clearly didn’t understand the tension.

“You two are too quiet, come on, it’s Christmas.” She said, “Loosen up!”

“I’m just tired, Liz.” Evan said.

She flicked his forehead, earning a yelp from Evan.

“Well, don’t be, it’s Christmas!”

He didn’t like how much this reminded him of home. He didn’t like that this reminded him of his sister avoiding and ignoring his problems or his brother never listening to him.

They were all so different, but some things never change.

Unpleasantly, his mind drifted to his dad. But he pushed those thoughts away. He didn’t know why he always thought of his dad when he talked to his siblings.

“Evan, it’s done.” Elizabeth said, “Do you wanna frost it?”

Evan nodded, “While they’re still hot.”

She smiled at him, “Then we can open gifts? You’re gonna love what I got you, I promise.”

No, his siblings were nothing like his dad. No doubt they have pieces of him in them—No doubt Evan did too—But they were not him.

Maybe he could learn to live with those pieces. He’d done it with Elizabeth.

But it was just so much harder with Michael. Even now, when they were laughing and pretending to be okay, he felt dissatisfied. He wanted more than this, he wanted reassurance that his brother actually wanted to change and didn’t just feel bad. What if Michael was doing this for himself? To make himself feel less guilty? Less at fault?

As cruel as it sounded in his head, he found himself regretting giving Michael this chance. He didn’t deserve closure, not when it had taken Evan over a decade to get his own closure. He knew Michael was trying, but why did he get to decide when this change of heart came along? Why did he get to decide when this ended?

He settled in his seat beside Gregory, who was talking to Charlie and Sammy. Elizabeth was quietly talking to Michael, and Evan stayed quiet. He had things to think over. A lot.

When they finished, Charlie and Elizabeth practically dragged him to the tree.

Michael hung back, and Evan felt a twinge of… Something. Sadness? Anger? He didn’t know. But it was something.

Elizabeth insisted he opened hers first, so he did. It was a camera. Except it was yellow and had little bear ears and…

“It’s Fredbear!” He exclaimed, “It’s so cute! Oh my god, Lizzie, this must have taken forever!”

“Charlie helped with it,” She said.

He looked it over, “And it’s brand new… Smile!” He pointed it at Elizabeth and Charlie, snapping a photo quickly, “Oh my god, I love it, Liz.”

She grinned, “I knew you would.”

Gregory smiled at Evan, pushing a small box closer to him.

Evan unwrapped it slowly, before slamming it down and giving Gregory a playfully harsh look, “You did not.”

Gregory laughed, “I really did.”

He held up the sweater, “This is so dumb I’m gonna wear it for the rest of my life.”

The sweater was black with a skull on it, but it was sporadically decorated with random Christmas things. It looked so strange and out of place and he loved it.

Of course he got Gregory an equally ugly sweater, one with flowers on it, but the middle of the flower was replaced with Glamrock Freddy, one of the characters made for Fazbear Entertainment after his father had sold it off in response to the horror rumors about it.

Evan knew they weren’t true, but they still made his skin crawl sometimes.

Sammy bought him a crochet kit, with a bunch of colors for him and Gregory to mess with. He must have remembered Evan mentioning that he wanted to pick it up as a hobby.

They continued exchanging gifts, and Michael was quiet for the most part, as if he was dreading something, which Evan found amusing; of course he was nervous, he’d had one day to find thoughtful gifts for people he hardly spoke to.

Suddenly, just as Evan was going to stand, Michael tossed something to him, and he jumped in surprise.

“I didn’t know what to get you, to be honest. I, uhm, I hope this isn’t a shitty gift…” Michael said, “I also hope it doesn’t like… ruin your day… it’s a hit or miss, so I’m taking a shot.”

Evan blinks a few times, “Alright…”

He carefully unwraps the gift, gasping softly when he sees it fully.

The fur is worn, and the stitches are messy—the handiwork of his uncle, no doubt—and one of the ears has a hole in it, but there’s no mistaking it.

It was Fredbear.

The original plushie.

The one he hadn’t seen since he moved out of his dad’s house.

He’d had another, one that Gregory’s dad had made for him, but it’d never been quite the same. It also didn’t talk to him.

… Well maybe that was a good thing.

He didn’t take his eyes off it as he spoke softly, “Where… did you get this?” 

“Dad sent it to me since he didn’t have contact with you. He didn’t give me a chance to say I didn’t either. Henry patched it up and it’s just been collecting dust for the past few months.”

He stared at it. It reminded him of a lot of things. The animatronics on stage that terrified him, being bullied, his nightmares, his dad, The Thing, meeting Gregory, that day he broke his ankle, that time Mike almost hit him with his car his first time driving it, when he spent that first night with Gregory, and so many other things.

“Huh…” He said.

“Is it… a good gift…?”

“Yeah, yeah I missed him.” He said, “Thank you.”

Michael smiled.

Elizabeth stood up, “Well, that was sweet,” she said, “let’s get this picked up now.”

They all groaned, and Lizzie clicked her tongue, “Come on, guys, this isn’t our house, we can’t trash it and leave.”

So they picked up. It wasn’t hard, but at some point Charlie bumped into Elizabeth, who playfully pushed her away, and then that ended with the two of them wrestling each other to the ground. Sammy jumped in and for a moment Evan thought Gregory would too, but he didn’t.

So the two of them just continued cleaning while Charlie squealed. And he glanced over at Michael.

He was picking up alongside them, and Evan couldn’t stop himself from laughing a bit.

Michael frowned, “What? What am I doing?”

“Nothing, nothing, it’s just funny that you’re cleaning. We were lucky if Dad got you to pick up a sock, much less your room, much less Henry’s house.”

Michael scoffed, but didn’t say anything.

Thanks for participating in the conversation, I’m glad we’re talking. Evan thought sarcastically.

Gregory looked like he wanted to say something, but he bit his tongue when Evan gave him a look.

“No fighting, I know,” He muttered.

God this sucked a lot.

Michael didn’t know what to say. And he was annoyed that Evan would bring that up. He got so much shit from his dad for not picking up his room, but he could never bring himself to care. He’d hated that house, he’d hated his dad, he’d hated his siblings, and god he’d hated his little brother.

Not that he knew exactly why, though.

His thoughts were interrupted by Elizabeth grabbing his arm, “It snowed last night, do you guys still get snow over in Utah?”

“What? Of course we do!” He said, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“I don’t know, you seem so grumpy I thought you must have never experienced a good thing in your life.” She said.

Evan winced and Michael frowned, “I’m not grumpy.” He said.

“Sure, as if you haven’t been moping around. You know, if you were just going to sulk this whole time you shouldn’t have come,” Elizabeth crossed her arms, “Nobody forced you to come, but you’re acting like this is the worst place to be right now.”

“I’m just… nervous…” He said slowly.

“Nervous? About what? You came because you wanted to see us, didn’t you?” She challenged, “You’re just being dodgy today, I don’t know. You just nudged gifts to us and mumbled ‘thank you’ and hung back, why aren’t you at least trying to participate?”

“I am trying! I’m just not feeling it, okay? Why do you even care, you’re not the one who invited me!”

Elizabeth scoffed, “I invite you every year and every year you shut me down, but not Evan? Is this even about him? Because it feels like it’s about you!”

Michael stared at her, “I’m trying my best!”

“Avoiding us is your best!?”

He fell silent. One look at Evan and Gregory told him they had been thinking the same things.

Goddammit.

He really had been neglecting his sister, hadn’t he? It’s not that he meant to, it’s just that he didn’t know how to talk to her. Her life fell apart pretty quickly once their father’s parenting… declined… but even then she still reached out to their father. Whether she actually thought he could change or if she was just doing it for herself, though, he had no idea.

He was trying to settle these things one at a time! why did he have to fuck up with both his siblings?

“She’s not wrong.” Gregory said, “You’ve been weird lately, and it’d be much easier for everyone if you just… I don’t know… talked? You’re not getting anywhere sneaking around like a dog.”

Michael felt his anger spark at that, “I’m not sneaking around! And don’t call me a dog!”

Elizabeth clenched her fists, “Well if you were really here to make amends, you’d put some effort in, but instead this feels more like a shitty way of getting closure and making yourself feel better-”

Evan stepped forward then, “Okay, that’s enough!”

“-And maybe if you hadn’t almost killed Evan he wouldn’t hate you so much!”

The whole room fell silent.

Evan stared at her, “Elizabeth…”

“It’s true!” She said, “It’s true! He’s always done this! You just avoid us, you shut us out, like that will help, and then you come crawling back for forgiveness so you don’t feel like shit about it!”

“Elizabeth!” Evan shouted.

She turned to look at Evan, and they locked eyes for a moment. She sighed, “I’m going… To go to the gas station for a bit. Call me if you need me.”

Michael watched her go, silent. His gut was twisting and he felt sick.

He was a shitty brother all around, wasn’t he?

He couldn’t even get his sister to like him. Not that he’d tried very hard. Elizabeth made herself feel untouchable. She avoided her brothers because she didn’t want to be caught in the middle of whatever they were doing. She hadn’t been talking about Evan, not entirely. She was probably lonely, he realized.

He looked at Evan, “I didn’t… I’m… I’m sorry…”

Evan stared at him, “Do you want to talk about It? Now?”

Michael laughed, but it was dry and humorless, “No, but I’m willing to, if you want to.”

“We’ll leave you guys alone.” Charlie said, grabbing Gregory and Sammy and pulling them away.

“Liz is right, you’re not really proving anything other than the fact that you feel bad. Which is… It’s annoying.” Evan said, “I know you feel bad, I’ve known that since I got out of the hospital when I was ten, Mike. I don’t need to know you feel bad, I need to know you care and want to make an effort to change.”

“Well, I am trying I just-”

“Don’t know how?”

Michael looked up at him.

“...Yeah.” He said softly, “I don’t know what to do, I hardly know you guys anymore.”

Evan sat down beside him, “None of us do, it took Elizabeth years to even look at me, and even longer for us to finally start actually talking. There’s a lot of things we can’t fix. Elizabeth will always be blunt, that will never change. It’s something she got from Dad. She can’t help that, but she can make it better.” He looked up at Michael, “And I think you can, too. If you just talk to me, but you won’t. And that’s making it hard. I don’t want to push you or bother you but I really really need to just… understand this.”

“So… About The Thing…”

“Yeah, The Thing. Me almost dying, you putting my head into heavy machinery? That Thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I… I still have the scar, you know? It healed over pretty well though, head wounds do that. But I still dream of it, you know. Do you have nightmares?”

“Of seeing my little brother’s head get crushed like a grape? Yeah,” He took a deep breath, “Hard to forget that when I spent at least five minutes staring at it.”

Evan stares at the floor, “... I don’t even remember when it happened. I didn’t feel it at all. Not until I woke up, at least.”

He takes a deep breath, “I… Can I just ask you why?”

“What?”

“Why did you do all that? Why did you treat me like that?”

Michael fell silent. He never talked about the why. It’s not that he didn’t know. He knew. He had known since he started, since he watched his brother’s skull get crunched in front of him.

“I thought it was funny,” He said, “I didn’t like that Dad did all that shit to me. He obviously enjoyed it, and I enjoyed doing it to you. Some kind of fucked up stress relief, I guess.”

Evan stares at him, looking hurt, “That’s brutally honest.”

“You said you didn’t want me to lie to you.”

Evan nodded, “Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a bit, before Evan spoke.

“I don’t know if I want to forgive you or not,” He said, “It’s not that… It’s not that I don’t think you’ve changed but… I still have nightmares. I still remember these things that happened to me and they… they suck. But sometimes I feel like a jerk because I know you’re trying and I know you don’t get why this is so hard for me but… But I really hate you. I hate that you are here for closure, I hate that you are here at all. But I invited you.”

“I think I do get it.” Michael said.

“Hm?”

“I… I haven’t blocked Dad yet, did you know that?”

“Really? I blocked him the day I moved out.” Evan said.

“I keep not wanting to. I keep thinking, ‘what if something happens? What if I need to talk to him?’ even though I know that’ll probably never happen.”

“So I guess I can get where you’re coming from. In a weird twisted way, you know? I don’t know how to cut him off, but I don’t know how to talk to him. It’s like there’s a door open in front of me and I’m too scared to walk through it but what if I close it and it locks? What if there was something good in there?”

Evan doesn’t take his eyes off Michael, before he says, “Give me your phone.”

Michael blinks at him, tilting his head, but he slowly hands Evan his phone, “What’re you doing?”

“Blocking Dad.”

“What!? Did you not hear anything I just said?” He reached for his phone, but Evan was quicker and pulled away from him.

“There’s nothing behind that door, Michael.” He says, startling Michael with his intensity, “Nothing that you want or need. You left that room forever ago and you deserve to stay out of it for the rest of your life. You and Liz.”

Michael watched him and his hand dropped back to his side.

Maybe Evan was right. Maybe there was nothing behind that door. Maybe he was just wishing there had been something in that room. It’s like he was closing and opening it in hopes for something new.

“...Thanks.”

“Always available for cutting off shitty family members. I’m incredibly good at it.”

Michael laughed, “... Yeah… you are.”

Evan stood up, “I think that’s enough for now, I don’t know if I forgive you, honestly.”

Michael shrugs, “Eh, that’s not the most of my worries,” He says, “I guess this was something of a test run?”

“If it was, I think it turned out okay.”

When Elizabeth got back, Michael took her aside to talk to her. Evan didn’t listen in, but he knew what they were talking about, and he did indeed see them hug tightly. It wasn’t Evan’s business. He left it alone.

So things weren’t fixed. But they were better. They had wrapped old wounds. Nothing was healed, but they weren’t bleeding anymore, and that was good.

The rest of the day was fun. Elizabeth insisted Michael stayed, but he had to go home eventually, and there was a mutual understanding that he needed some time alone after all that. It was overwhelming, and Evan was definitely done with seeing his family for a bit. They weren’t friends, but it was something.

He watched Michael walk outside, where Jeremy had come to pick him up.

“Hey, Mike?” He called.

“Yeah?”

“Thanks for coming.”

Michael smiled at him, “Thanks for letting me.”

Not forgiveness, and in the end he would always prefer the family he’d made for himself, but otherwise this went well.

That being said, he was never inviting that many people over for Christmas again. He should’ve gotten them together for Thanksgiving instead.

Gregory pulled Evan back inside, “Dude, it’s freezing, come inside.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Gregory looked inside, “This place is a mess. What happened to ‘we can’t make a mess and leave it’?”

Evan laughed.

[aesopsharpmybeloved]

Wounds Of The Past

A week following his and his young lover's little getaway in pursuit of tenderness, Aesop Sharp finds the pain in his leg, the one that he'd been used to for more than ten years now, lessening...

I would be lost without my dear partner in crime co-author and consultant @tea-withjamandbread, as well as Maarty and her unwavering support ❤

Wounds Of The Past (14.3k)

tw: teacher-student relationship, age gap (reader is an adult), sexual themes (mentioned and alluded to), tooth-rotting fluff

It began in a flurry of shards and bright green liquid staining the floor of his classroom.

Aesop Sharp stared at the mess he made morosely - what a waste of a perfectly good phial of Wiggenweld potion. With a small huff, he waved his wand in the air lazily, and both the broken bottle and its previous contents vanished into thin air. 

It was a day like any other for the teacher. Well, a day like any other lately, that is. A mere year ago, his life was drastically different. Alright, maybe not so drastically - just like the previous years, Aesop taught potions at Hogwarts, he regularly got exasperated by the lack of quick wit and good judgement from his many students as well as his employer, he praised rather sporadically, but always truthfully and fairly, he spent time with his friends and colleagues, stayed up long into the night grading essays and pop quizzes, and brewed medical remedies for the Hospital wing. Which is what he was doing right now as well, actually.

And yet, there was one big change, and in Aesop’s eyes (but what’s more, in his heart), the change was so large and significant, the teacher felt like his entire life on this Earth was suddenly all new and exciting, and as spectacular as it was when he was a fresh adult with an idiotic amount of courage and all the doors wide open and inviting. 

His heart burned with love.

That’s what it felt like at least. 

A year ago, he was just beginning to feel the effects of one very special young Ravenclaw’s presence around him, and after many many months, during which Aesop’s heart bled because he knew that she’d never return the feelings he held for her, it turned out he was very wrong. Christmas Eve of 1892 was the first evening they spent not only in one another’s company, but also each other’s arms, lips hungrily chasing their counterparts for yet another, and another, and another scorching kiss. 

The following few months only further proved that this little clandestine romance of theirs was no silly infatuation or some mere temporary absence of sense and reason. Each kiss, each ardent embrace, each and every night spent talking in hushed tones within the comfort of one another’s warmth and the security of their arms, all of it made Aesop feel a sense of belonging he hadn’t experienced in decades. So yes, his heart did indeed burn with love, and it burned with the ferocity of the Fiendfyre spell, making him feel so warm and alive, he still occasionally worried about waking up one morning to find it had all been just one big dream.

And the previous weekend? Well… Aesop wasn’t able to keep a sly little smile off his face when he remembered the weekend… It had been nearly embarrassingly long since he was able to make love to a woman like he made love to his pretty young Ravenclaw. The several one-night sexual encounters he had a few years ago weren’t exactly satisfactory for Aesop in this regard. Of course, he was ever the perfect gentleman and both he and his partner, whatever any of their names was, experienced the pleasure and its sweet culmination during their short encounter. However, this pleasure was always short lived, and Aesop soon found emptiness and coldness replacing the previous passion. While his younger self had no problem changing women with the frequency with which he changed his socks, and grin while doing so, it would appear his current self was no longer interested in empty promises said in the heat of the moment, soon to be replaced by awkward goodbyes and lonely journeys back home. And so he stopped seeking out the comforts and joys of a woman’s arms. Whenever the appetite came, the potions master would simply chase it away with a cold shower, or indulge in the familiar, if lonely, comfort of his hand - no need to drag some poor woman into it and risk accidentally hurting her feelings, he thought.

To be honest, Aesop was sure that this was just how he’ll spend the rest of his life. Pointlessly chasing after the cure for his leg, as well as after students he often presumed positively suicidal, instead of doing the thing his friends and mother implored him to do so very often; Fall in love, be happy. Two goals he presumed to be out of his reach entirely.

But now he was both. And to those who knew him closely, it was, of course, absolutely obvious. And while a part of Aesop was frankly cringing at how transparent the former rather brilliant Auror had become in his joy, the majority of him was so high on this almost new feeling that he often couldn’t find it within himself to care.

How could he, when the memories of the weekend spent with his young sweetheart were this fresh in his memory? 

Hands carefully exploring the other’s heated body, mapping out each new uncovered inch as if it was a wonderful new land, full of various beauties and intricacies, freckles and beauty marks, scars, proofs of a life lived, lips eagerly tasting the other’s skin, gliding in tantalising and hypnotising patterns, ones that left shivers and passion in their wake. Two bodies moving against each other, two hearts beating the same frenzied rhythm, oxygen intimately shared, and moans of pleasure cutting through the silence of the room, only ever occasionally replaced by urgent words of love and desire and accompanied by the deliciously filthy sounds of their union.

Aesop decided that it was the best weekend he had in years. Then again, this was something of his young lover’s habit; making him feel the happiest he’s been in years, that is.

Just the thought of her was able to stop him from continuing to stare at the floor where just short moments prior lay the spilled potion and broken glass. And Aesop suddenly remembered just how he managed to accidentally break the phial.

Having brewed and bottled another large batch of Wiggenweld potion for the hospital wing (which was always in high demand, as students seemed to be positively intent on maiming themselves on their brooms during Quidditch… or during Crossed Wands duels. Or during a simple potions lesson on Germinating potion turned utter catastrophe because someone was too dull to read that they were supposed to add knotgrass dew after they added the dried salamander skins rather than before... Or during a perfectly ordinary dinner at the Great Hall….), he automatically took a few phials in order to put them into his magically enlarged breast pocket. 

It was a simple muscle memory for him - he brewed, he took a few doses for his leg, he had the rest delivered, and by the time he brewed again, he only had one or two phials left on his person, the new potions sliding into the pocket with ease.

Not today.

The first phial did indeed slip in without a problem. The second one, however, made a soft glass clanking noise when he tried to store it away, making him aware his pocket, though much bigger on the inside, had become full. Aesop let go of it before he fully realised it though, and the small bottle slid down his chest and fell to the floor. A slightly cathartic sound of glass breaking penetrated the silence of the dungeons and that was that…

Aesop automatically leaned against the potions station he was just using (the one his sweetheart used too - it was the newest one in the castle, after all, and the most reliable one), the clogs in his head turning. Pushing his hand inside his breast pocket once more, he began pulling out the Wiggenwed potions there. Six, seven, eight! How in Merlin’s name did he have eight potions in his pocket after… goodness, when was it he last refilled it? It surely couldn’t have been after he returned to his rooms on the Sunday a week ago, could it? 

He had returned with his sweetheart in tow, sneaking by the ghosts roaming the castle while its living inhabitants feasted on their supper at the Great Hall, and managed to restrain himself from marking the official end to their little getaway before inadvertently having to return to their day-to-day lives at Hogwarts, unsure of how much time they’ll be allowed to spend together, until he made sure the stash of potions he had on his person was refilled for the following week. 

Aesop shook his head. The idea seemed implausible. He was well aware that he had consumed more than a single vial of Wiggenweld potion in the last week; after all, he kept a supply in the chest at the foot of his bed and habitually took doses in his office. Yet, the thought lingered: had there ever been a time when he used only one of the phials he actively carried with him?

Upon further reflection, he realised that despite his deep scepticism, there was irrefutable evidence that he had consumed less of the potion this week - by at least a third of his usual consumption. And it did make sense, in a way. It had been a good week, on no day did his leg act up and bind him to a seating position because of painful cramps restricting him from standing up, which usually happened every other week.

It was… unthinkable. New and a little unnerving. Despite being all alone in the large classroom, Aesop scoffed - for more than a decade, the thing he wanted the most in the world was for his leg to stop hurting, and now… Well, it was hurting still, but instead of the sharp pain that shot from his knee all the way into his hip, genuinely feeling like the bloody curse was burning into his femur and hip bone, there was this sort of strange dull ache that was more annoying than anything else. Almost like the pain one gets after they’ve been sitting in a strange position for an extended period of time, like the sort of pain one could simply shake off…

Of course, Aesop wasn’t as silly as to attempt to shake his leg, in fear that the movement could potentially bring the worse pain back instead of relieving this more bearable one. Still, his curiosity was more than peaked, and after he made sure a couple of house elves would come to collect the few crates of Wiggenweld potion he brewed, he retired into his chambers.

He occasionally delivered the potions himself - after all, the Hospital wing was very close to his rooms. This fact was especially convenient during his worst days, as Norreen didn’t have to run through half the castle to administer some stronger potions to him. Aesop preferred to leave those in her care, as he couldn't trust himself to resist the stronger, more addictive potions instead of the harmless Wiggenweld. However, these episodes of his happened very, very rarely these days, luckily. 

No, Aesop truly didn’t have the time to hand-deliver the potions himself and chat up Noreen for a bit right now, he needed to look at the notes he had on the experimental pain relieving potion he took during his and his sweetheart’s outing. A part of him knew that he went over those notes a hundred times while he was brewing, and then a hundred more before he tested the first batch on himself. A part of him knew there was no way the potion could be the thing relieving his pain even now, a week after ingestion. It simply wasn’t possible - the first batch he brewed lasted for several hours, but he could very much feel his blasted leg again the next day… Then, during the weekend, he did think it strange it was working even after he woke up, but he had hardly the time to concern himself with his research when he had a very beautiful young woman to enjoy the privacy with.

Right now though… right now he needed to know. He needed to find the answer.  So that he could repeat whatever it was he did that made his leg get better. 

And for the first time, he realised that he no longer wanted to do so for himself - he had lived with that pain for a decade, and, in a way, he very nearly made peace with it. Such could be seen when one took a look at his journals - the past few years, he didn’t go through them nearly as quickly as he used to in the beginning. 

But now… Now the very idea that he could be healthy again, that he’d be able to walk by his beloved’s side, unbothered by an undignified limp, standing tall and proud like he once did, made his heart thump loudly in his chest… If his leg stopped hurting, he’d at least feel a little more deserving of her love. Less guilty about taking the absolutely incredible creature his Ravenclaw was for himself, and himself only… 

The professor unlocked the door of his chambers and stepped inside, the comfort of the space instantly washing over him. These days he was quite tidier than he had been a couple of years ago, and he let the house elves clean his rooms regularly - his shelves, as it turned out, were much more organised and able to contain more things when there weren’t empty liquor bottles haphazardly hidden away in them. Aesop still indulged in a glass or two every now and then, but he made sure not to overindulge too much, and got rid of the empty bottles promptly. After all, he didn’t want the young woman to think she was seeing some drunken bum.

He made quick work of finding his latest notebook even though he had quite a few of them now. Each and every single one was filled from cover to cover, each experiment he conducted well documented, the script with the hypothesis starting off neat and organised, and ending with scrawly, short notes, as he was getting more and more frustrated he wasn’t getting the desired results. The conclusion was once more written neatly, simply explaining that yet another cure idea became an absolute flop. 

However, some of them ended on a hopeful note - in his efforts to discover a cure, Aesop accidentally found a different manner in which the potions could be used. Experimental cure #87 turned out to be quite a brilliant cure for sunstroke, and #114 he brewed regularly, as it helped with Bai’s hay fever every summer. And, of course, then there were the experimental brews that weren’t a cure for his leg, but rather little ideas to at the very least help with the pain somewhat. There was Experimental pain relief potion #12, which he’d occasionally add into his bath, as it helped not only with the pain in his leg, but also in his entire body - very useful after a long evening spent bent over ingredients he was preparing. Then herbal ointment #4, which warmed his leg up considerably, as well as made the scar upon his skin itself less sensitive to touch. Aesop found it curious that the scar on his cheek never really hurt after the skin healed, but he supposed that it was because his leg got the full force of the curse, and his cheek was later struck from recoil. And, of course, there was that one brew that started out as a pain relieving potion, and accidentally ended up being a herbal liquor. Oh well, it worked quite nicely as an aperitivo if nothing else, Aesop shrugged.

The potions master found one of the last pages and peered upon the page. Experimental cure #164 was scratched out and Experimental pain relief potion #17 was written above it instead. In his own script he read the conclusion: ‘Despite its effect being strong enough to remove pain nearly completely for 4 hours, 37 minutes and 21 seconds, it began lessening rather rapidly afterwards. Return to original state occurred in circa 5 hours and 13 minutes following initial ingestion. Not ideal - rare ingredients, prolonged brewing time… However, works for intended purposes.’

It was a shortcoming on his part. Only doing one test, that is. That he could admit. Now he was on unfamiliar ground, and there was no clear way for him to be able to test the brew on another subject, to at the very least be able to say with certainty that repeated administration did indeed prolong the effects of the potion. Blast it. 

Well, he could at least examine the area to see if there were any signs of the potion's effects on his body. And so, Aesop Sharp walked over to the armchair next to his bed, took a seat, and used his wand to turn on the lamp standing beside it. Placing his wand upon the armrest, he began to unfasten his left boot, soon letting the heavy footwear slide from his leg and land on the floor with a thud.

His hands worked methodically, relying on muscle memory completely. He undid the straps of his suspenders from his trousers before unbuttoning them and pushing them down, sliding them just enough to be able to pull his left leg free. His pants were given similar treatment soon, and Aesop grit his teeth momentarily as the soft cotton slid down the sensitive tissue of his scar there. Aesop was glad to have invested into a high quality lock on his chambers, as he most likely looked just as ridiculous as he felt whenever he was examining his leg for any sort of change like he was doing now - literally half naked, the air of his chambers chilling the toes on his bare left foot, not to mention his family jewels on full display while his right leg was still half covered and booted. Best have no uninvited guests while he was this vulnerable.

He moved with his armchair slightly closer to the bed to be able to brace his left foot upon the mattress and examine his bad leg properly. There was some sort of foggy pale patch upon his scarred thigh, and at first the professor thought it was just some silly trick of the lighting until he turned his leg a bit to get rid of the effect and… nothing happened. The patch remained there. Upon closer inspection, it truly was some sort of strange skin discoloration, but it couldn’t have been something normal, like perhaps a pale patch left from a failed tan -  because where on earth would he be tanning in early April? And besides, the pattern was… the pattern was very peculiar indeed. Could it have been the potion’s effect? Surely not, he saw nothing of this sort after the first ingestion, and that was a week before he and his beloved left for their little herb picking excursion.

Besides that, when she undressed him and the two of them explored one another for the first time, he saw no such mark on his leg. The poor limb was like it’s always been, the scar red and angry, its lower part only just becoming less visible because of the thicker hair on his shins. Surely he would’ve noticed! And the second day, too, when he watched her head move between his legs, her mouth so sinfully and deliciously descending upon… Alright, now may not be the most opportune time to dwell on such thoughts, Aesop decided when he felt himself twitch slightly.

Had there been anything on his leg? Aesop couldn’t remember. To be fair, he had way more pressing matters on hand back then, and the lighting conditions weren’t exactly optimal for any sort of medical examination, the sun having nearly descended below the horizon, leaving an ethereal semi-darkness of pink dusk in its wake. 

Now however, he could see it quite clearly. Well, clearly… The pattern’s borders were faint, bleeding into his regular skin colour, and the discoloration had been the most obvious across the scar itself. The scar had still been angry red in many places, along its edges in particular, but where the pale patch was, it was almost like… the scar was paler as well? He used the tip of his finger to prod at the tissue gently, and, most surprisingly, found that it didn’t… Well, it didn’t really feel like anything, actually. His finger then slipped along the scar, over to a place that was much redder, and he hissed upon the stinging pain that followed. How strange...

It seemed the pale pattern was sort of wrapping around the scar somewhat, faint, but very much there, from the top of his injury over at his hip bone, all the way to below the knee. When the potions master squinted his eyes, he was able to tell the pattern apart from the rest of his leg easier. Hm… Aesop racked through his brain - the pattern was… oddly familiar… When had he seen it before? It surely wasn’t a symbol he’d seen among the Ancient runes textbooks, and it was not an alchemy symbol either. 

It was sort of like a swirl, like a part of a vortex. Where in Merlin’s name had he seen it…

Aesop closed his eyes.

Coldness seeping into his clothes, making him feel like it was infused into his very bones. The damp air of the dungeons. Suddenly, ethereal blue glow. A large unfamiliar chamber, with what looked like the reflection of the entire Hogwarts region in dark water. Four large portrait frames. A door with a glowing swirl upon it…

His eyes snapped open again.

No way.

Aesop nearly sprung to his feet, and very nearly tumbled to the ground right away, tripping over his own boot and trousers. He stumbled back over to his desk, threw open one of the drawers, and pillaged inside it until he found that one journal he was looking for, uncaring whether the other contents of the drawer flew left or right. For all he cared at that moment, they could very much just land inside the fireplace and he wouldn’t have cared. Less than a minute later, he was sitting back down, furiously flipping through the pages. Where is it, where is it?!

There!

A few of the pages within the notebook were drastically different from the others. Mainly because they didn’t contain any of his experiments or refined recipes, but rather his thoughts following one positively insane night that took place more than two years ago now… It was not one’s typical journal entry, there was no composition, some sentences weren’t finished, some didn’t even make sense to him anymore - goes to show how disturbed Aesop had been following the night. And who could blame him? Hogwarts was supposed to be one of the safest places in the Wizarding world, the safest place in Britain, and yet, on that horrible night, the fate of the world as they knew it was at stake, and one of Aesop’s colleagues had lost his life…

The wizarding world was full of old wives’ tales of various levels of improbability and insanity. And that night Aesop found himself in the middle of one of them.

Ancient magic, only visible and accessible to a very few, nowadays nearly fabled, individuals. Yet another Hogwarts secret nobody had known about in centuries, and talk of sources of power so immense, they could very much destroy not only the school itself, but possibly the entire country or more, if they were to fall into the wrong hands. And Aesop put himself right into the middle of it the second he responded to Matilda Weasley’s urgent Floo call for aid, blast his lame leg.

The teacher observed the quick sketches and notes he scratched into the pages of his journal with his quill following the night, wanting to get his thoughts onto the paper in effort to perhaps understand them better. Among them was the spiral staircase leading down, which he had never seen before in his life, despite having been this far into the dungeons several times. Nobody really had a reason to roam there much, not even the students attending both Muggle studies and Alchemy classes nearby, as there was nothing of interest, just a few empty barrels and crates… Another one depicted a grand circular room, adorned with intricate details, ones that many a pure-blood family manor could be sorely envious of.

And then - open double doors holding the solemn darkness of caverns within, despite their beautiful appearance. While what Aesop found interesting those two years back was the cave system and the secrets that lurked behind those doors, right now he was more interested in the door itself, as it bore a very interesting symbol on it - the very same one that seemed to have been burned into the skin of his leg.

Aesop let the journal fall from his hands and slide from his right leg down to the floor, leaning back against the cushions of his armchair.

Fucking hell…

He had some sort of ancient magic attached to his leg, to his scar. Now that he knew what it was, one wouldn’t need his intellect to know just when it got there - after all, the memory of his and his sweetheart’s bodies trembling against one another with their first shared climax was very much fresh in his memory, and he adored to come back to it again, and again, and again. Another one of his shortcomings; he didn’t question the powerful surge of the Ravenclaw’s ancient magic wrapping around their very forms that first night, even after it turned out to be the only time it happened. He didn’t question what it might’ve done to him, or to her… Aesop was one lucky bastard that the magic hadn’t been destructive towards either of them… Could it have been? He knew the young woman used her powers during combat, actually even got to see her do so, which left him both impressed and slightly intimidated, but the magic that night, the feelings it filled his chest with… That was far from any sort of violent or combatant magic…

Still, he shouldn’t have perhaps figuratively shrugged his shoulders about it like he did. Now it was quite obvious that there was indeed some sort of effect, and, unlike with potions and spells, where most effects can be traced back to the ingredients in potions’ case, and to pronunciation and hand movements when it came to spells, Aesop very much doubted there was anything they could use to predict the future of this one. Would it get weaker as time passed? Or would it get stronger instead? It could, theoretically, get stronger - after all, Aesop only noticed it today, and was nearly certain it wasn’t there a few days ago… At least not this visible…

The potions master had no idea how it worked, and his chances to find out were minimal at best. His knowledge about ancient magic went only as far as Fig’s notes and his sweetheart’s own knowledge… which honestly wasn’t quite as much as both of them would’ve liked. The so called ‘Keepers’ were as enigmatic as ever, it was almost as if, without the threat of immediate danger, they lost most of their interest in teaching the young woman anymore. She did go to meet them occasionally, but has described the four portraits as being quite slow at lecturing her more on the subject of ancient magic. Like they were afraid the young woman might not use this knowledge for good…

All in all, somehow he doubted the Keepers would be able to find an answer to the question ‘Is it possible to heal something with ancient magic while having sex?’. Still, Aesop chuckled darkly, it’d be fun to see if portraits could faint.

The professor sighed then. He felt a little lost - on one hand, he was sort of ecstatic - his leg had been hurting less, and now that he was sitting down, he very nearly didn’t feel it at all. On the other hand, he… Well, he was rather afraid to allow himself to hope again. Each and every time he did, the disappointment that followed hurt all the more. 

He figured he should tell the young woman too. She had a right to know, considering it was her magic that managed to do something he hadn’t in a decade - long lasting effects. A week wasn’t a lot of time, yes, but it was still much longer than anything else he managed to brew throughout the years…

He needed to speak to her, he needed her to help him make heads or tails of the situation. He could go and find Diana to the Owlery, send a message… but that was entirely too slow. That is, he was too slow, the greater sooty owl herself was faster than lightning. Well, there was only one more way to get the young woman to come to him swiftly… Aesop used his wand to summon one of the heavy blankets he kept in his chambers, and draped it over himself in a way that would make it seem he was merely reclining in his armchair, wrapped up to fight the chill of early spring. When he deemed himself covered sufficiently, and of course after hiding his discarded boot underneath the blanket, he summoned a house elf.

“Please, find (F/N) (L/N), a seventh-year Ravenclaw. Send her to me - tell her it’s urgent that she comes, as there is a… an inconsistency in her NEWT essay…”

With a pop, the elf disapparated and Aesop was once again left alone in his chambers. He gazed into the flames in his hearth thoughtfully. This year truly is turning out to be drastically different from the previous ones, isn’t it… It was not long at all before he heard knocking upon his door. His sweetheart let herself in following his invitation, and immediately came to find him in his bedchamber.

His brain gave out momentarily and his thoughts ceased suddenly when she came into his field of view, looking so casually gorgeous in her crisp white shirt, simple striped tie, and her calf-length black skirt. 

She leaned against the doorframe with a sparkle in her eye, one that made Aesop’s heart throb. “An inconsistency in my essay, you say?” she purred, a smile spreading upon her face, before she began to walk towards him slowly, her hips swaying most invitingly. “I-...” Aesop forgot to speak for a minute, completely mesmerised by her movements. “Actually,” he continued, mouth drier than it was a moment ago, “while I adore the way you’re looking at me right now, it’s not the reason I called you here…”

And with that he pulled the blanket up partially, revealing his bare left leg. “Aesop, you’re not exactly helping in making me think you didn’t invite me here for some tender fun…” she chuckled quietly, and the potions master couldn’t help but feel a little smile forming on his lips as well. However, he only raised his maimed leg upon the bed like he’d done before: “Please come take a look at this…” Cocking her head to the side confusedly, the Ravenclaw walked nearer, soon enough bending onto one knee to look at what he was referring to.

“What is it? Has it worsened?” she asked, sounding concerned. “The other way around actually,” Aesop replied quietly, “take a proper look at the skin colour around it - what do you see?” The girl carefully placed her hand on an unscarred part of his thigh and leaned in closer, furrowing her brows.

Then suddenly, as if a switch was flicked, her eyes widened and mouth dropped open in a way Aesop would’ve almost described as comical in a different situation.

“I-... That’s-... How?!” she stammered, observing the scar and the pale pattern upon it.

“I don’t know,” Aesop replied truthfully, “I only noticed it today.”

Then, however, he saw an expression appear on the girl’s face, one that he didn’t expect. 

Terror.

“Oh no… no, no, no, no, no…” She began shaking her head, one of her hands coming to cover her mouth, and were those tears gathering in her eyes? “What, what is it, dear?” Aesop asked, his own panic rising. “This is bad, oh Merlin…” she only stammered on, having now gotten up and begun backing away somewhat.

“Darling, please,” The professor quickly grabbed at her wrist, gently but firmly, and started pulling her back towards him. She was breathing hard and looking terribly, terribly panicked when he managed to sit her down upon his healthy leg and wrapped his arms around her. Using one hand, he pressed her face against his neck, and used the other to draw deep circles into her back, making gentle shushing noises. He could feel the dampness of her tears on his collar: “Calm yourself my sweet. Tell me what’s wrong, please.”

“Oh, Aesop…” she whimpered miserably, “I’m so, so sorry…” Aesop shushed her some more: “What are you apologising for? It doesn’t hurt, if that’s what’s gotten you worried. In fact, the pain has lessened considerably.” “That’s the thing, Aesop…” she lifted her head up to look at him: “I… before me, there was another woman, one who had my powers…I may have said something here and there about her before...” The professor listened carefully, not rushing her in her speech, merely looking into her eyes and continuing to stroke her back, “Um… Ever since she began school in her fifth year, like me, what she wanted the most was to rid her father of pain from losing his son - her brother… And after years, she was successful in her efforts. She pulled the pain right out of him. A-and for a while, it seemed to be all good… But then one day her colleague went to find her at her family home, and she wasn’t there… But her father was… He was barren of all emotion. Not just of pain, he didn’t have anything in him left! He became a body with no soul!”

Aesop gulped, much too loudly, feeling his own heart speeding up. Bloody hell…

Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, as both of them panicking would help absolutely nothing, he forced himself to think about her words while once more closing his arms around her tight. Right… 

“Uh… You said that she was only successful after years, didn’t you?” Aesop asked, his voice quiet and as soothing as possible. He felt the woman in his arms nod her head against his shoulders. “Would you mind telling me how you know that?” His sweetheart took several deep breaths before raising her head again, not meeting his eyes this time: “I found a series of journal entries. This woman, Isidora Morganach, was helping heal people from the plague alongside a few other wizards and muggle doctors alike, but… But while she helped heal the people of their physical illness, she wasn’t able to relieve them of their pain of losing loved ones to the Black death… And so she, I don’t know, she made this spell that extracted pain from people… She’d use her wand, hold it to someone’s chest and pull out what looked like this dark wispy cluster. She’d proceed to breathe it in, and later store it away into containers made of goblin silver… The biggest one being-” “The Final repository.” “Yes.”

“Wait a minute, though-” Aesop said, feeling slightly less panicked. “If she managed to fill that giant thing to the brim with pain-”

“She extracted pain from others. From Hogwarts students, from anyone she could…”

“Then not all of them must’ve turned into soulless beings.”

“I-... What?” Her eyes, red from crying softly, finally met his own. “You heard,” Aesop spoke, feeling more confident, “that thing… it’s the most powerful thing I’ve ever seen, filled to the brim with magic… and it wasn’t even the only one, you said Ranrok got his power from below the Rookwood castle. She must’ve really taken the pain of dozens, perhaps even hundreds - and if each and every one of them subsequently lost all emotion because of it, well, it would have been noticed! It would have been written down. That’s not something people could ignore! Did you… Do you know of anyone else who had their pain extracted by her?” The young woman in his arms thought for a moment before her eyes lit up: “Professor Fitzgerald!”

“Who?”

“She was the Headmistress here when Isidora was a student and later a teacher, as well as one of the Keepers - Isidora took her pain as well!” 

“And did she lose all emotion?”

“I don’t- I don’t know. Her memories only showed the immediate aftermath… I-... I have to ask!” the Ravenclaw was just about to rush away from him, no doubt into the direction of the Map chamber, but Aesop held on tight: “Just wait for a minute, dear. You also mentioned that you actually saw the process too. From, uh, from what I remember, there never came a point during which you pointed your wand at me, and extracted something from within me, did it?”

She thought for a moment: “No… No, there really was no moment like that… Can I… Can I take a look at your leg again?” With a small smile, Aesop finally allowed her to stand up and leave his embrace. She kneeled in front of him again and looked at his leg carefully. “This is… it’s also different,” she murmured as if more to herself than to him, “it’s not the dark wispy thing… and it’s not the red glow I saw Ranrok and his loyalists give off… But there is a glow…” Aesop’s eyebrows furrowed. A glow? He didn’t see any glow… Was she just talking about the fact the pattern was lighter than the rest of his skin, or…?

“I think it’s the blue one, I can’t… I can’t really see it clearly…” she kept on talking, even quieter than before. “Darling, I cannot see any glow…” he replied, still trying to see what she was talking about. “I… Well, you wouldn’t. I think only I can see it. Professor Fig couldn’t see it either…”

“Ah, right. However, you’re saying that it doesn’t look like the magic that this Isidora of yours was wielding when she extracted pain from people, right?”

“Right.” “So there is a chance I won’t be losing my emotions.”

“I… I hope so…”

“And so do I. Why don’t you, uh, why don’t you check up with the former Headmistress - perhaps her portrait will be able to tell you more,” Aesop said finally. His heart had calmed down somewhat, though his head was still reeling a little. His beloved nodded her head frantically. But then she looked at him: “You said it hurt less now, didn’t you?”

“It indeed does,” he confirmed, carefully touching the scarred skin. The Ravenclaw bit into her lip: “Um, we can trust Nurse Blainey, right? I mean, she’s the one who fixed me up after what… what happened in those caverns. Maybe you should, you know, show it to her?”

“Are you sure that’s not a waste of time? You just said you’re the only one who can see the glow.”

“It’s not that much about the glow, Aesop - she’ll be able to give you a diagnosis, or something, anything… We’re in a position where we could use all the information we can get…”

She had a fair point, Aesop thought. But such was the way of Ravenclaws, always believing that knowledge is key. Frankly, he was slightly through with healers running diagnostics on him only to put on that oh so compassionate face and tell him that they can’t do anything for him… But then again, could it be different now? He did trust Noreen to remain discreet at the very least - however, he also didn’t at all doubt that she’ll probe at him until she got as much information about this new… progress… And would she keep her discretion after he told her? Of course, his and the young woman’s relationship wasn’t forbidden, but still…

“Trust me, I too am cringing at the very thought of going to ask the former Headmistress about this, as she’s no doubt going to be very inquisitive… I may actually attempt to ask the other’s to leave, if it comes down to me actually talking about what happened - because I know both you and I know that this happened during… You know… The light vines and all… I think I’m able to talk to her about it, but I think I would die in embarrassment were I to speak to Rackham and Rookwood about such matters… Actually, all three of us would, in most likelihood.” “What about the fourth one?”

“I don’t know - I have a feeling he’ll insist on staying, though I wish he hadn’t.. To, I don’t know, make sure I wasn’t about to go down the same path as Isidora or something…”

Aesop shook his head. As if the young woman before him hadn’t proved her heart was nothing but pure… She proved it, in his own opinion, enough for several lifetimes. He knew of Isidora Morganach’s untimely but unavoidable death at the hands of one of the Keepers, and he knew with all of his heart that his beloved was nothing like this woman, there was not a single power-hungry hair on her head. 

“Run along - the sooner we’re done with these no doubt uncomfortable tasks we’ve got to attend to now, the sooner we’ll hopefully be able to breathe a sigh of relief… And hopefully have a strong cup of good tea. And perhaps a splash of Firewhisky. And biscuits.” Aesop was happy to hear the young woman snort silently. She raised herself up and looked at him: “I… um, I’ll see you at the Hospital wing then?” He gave a nod. And, just like that, he was left by himself once more. However, not before receiving several very lovely kisses, during which it took everything within him not to say ‘Damn that talking piece of canvas hag as well as any silly examination!’ and just have both of them stay in the comfort of his rooms for the time being. 

He sighed and threw the blanket covering his modesty back onto the bed before restoring his clothes the way they’re supposed to be, triple checking whether everything was decent before leaving his rooms to make the short way over to the Hospital wing. And when he did find himself at the very top of the stairs, Aesop had to throw a phial of Wiggenweld back - the pain was better, but it was far from gone, and stairs really weren’t doing it much good at all.

The Hospital wing was as it always had been - bright and airy, sterile but homely. The scent of various healing salves, potions and herbs wafted through the pleasantly cool air, and the sun of late afternoon poured in through the partly open window. To his massive relief, Aesop found that, surprisingly, there were no students currently getting attended to by the school nurse. How curious - Aesop could’ve sworn there would always be at least one half-maimed student here at all occasions.

“Quiet, isn’t it?” Came Noreen’s voice from somewhere behind him, making the poor man flinch ever so slightly. He turned his head to see the young Nurse peering at him from out of her office/bedroom. “Indeed,” he replied coolly, flawlessly masking his bewilderment at her sudden appearance and her startling him, “how so? Didn’t you have a minimum amount of whining teenagers you must have here at all times of day and night?” 

Nurse Blainey sneered lightly: “A third of Crossed Wands is worried about their NEWTs, a third is worried about their OWLs, Mr Brattleby included, and the rest are lost like forest bees on a glade without their organiser, so they daren’t set any matches that get actually dangerous. The most that happens to the lot who still go there to practice is a singed eyebrow, and they don’t really want me to witness that.”

“And Quidditch?” Aesop asked, reaching a hand out to lean a part of his weight on one of the beds.

“Well, we’ve only got Slytherin versus Hufflepuff left, don’t we? I hear Miss Reyes is making sure no member of her ‘Dream Team’ as much as sprains an ankle or pulls a muscle during their practices, so they’re in top shape for the final match, and you know Hufflepuffs - at least a dozen of them who are hoping to become healers are always nearby, just itching to get their practice in was any of the Hufflepuff players become injured. And me - I’ve got some well deserved peace at last. At least I had till you came in.”

Aesop chuckled.

—

As the Ravenclaw entered the Map chamber, a rush of emotions swept through her. Though she visited the room on a semi-regular basis, the frequency wasn't as high as she had initially anticipated it would be. The Keepers' reluctance to hasten their lectures, their occasional absolute absence from their frames, and the poignant memories of Professor Fig that flooded her mind each time she stepped inside all contributed to her subconscious avoidance of joining the four Keepers down here. And besides that, she was a busy woman…

The cold air nipped at her ears as she slowly descended the stairs leading to the spacious chamber below, she was quick to notice all four former professor’s stood within their frames. The atmosphere in the room was very nearly surreal, ethereal, as if time itself had no meaning within, there was no concept of day and night there. However, despite the four sentient portraits there, she always felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end from how unsettling the place was - each time she remembered the people on the wall were not actually there, that they weren’t trapped in those paintings, but had actually been dead and buried for centuries, the silence of the room felt deafening. Despite its lack of foes for her to defeat, no giant spiders, no rampant Dugbogs, the room actually felt scarier than many dark caves and ruined abandoned buildings when the Keepers were absent. Even Inferi would make the place feel less… dead.

She was swiftly pulled out of her macabre thoughts.

“Welcome back, Miss (L/N). It’s been some time since we last made your acquaintance,” spoke professor Rackham, his soft voice reverberating off the intricately patterned walls. The young woman swallowed and made her way across the large map of the Highlands around Hogwarts castle. “My apologies, professors - I was rather busy with my NEWTs and such…” she replied quietly before looking at the portrait of professor Fitzgerald, “Headmistress, may I… may I speak to you for a moment?”

The woman looked mildly surprised to be addressed specifically, but quickly schooled her features into a pleasant expression: “Certainly, Miss. What is it you want to talk about?” The young woman’s eyes nervously flicked around the other three portraits, the people within them regarding her with unabashed curiosity. “Actually,” she spoke, attempting to make her voice as neutral as possible despite the heat rising to her cheeks already, “actually I wondered whether I could talk to you privately…”

The Keepers’ expressions turned even more curious, and they too began looking around at one another. Finally, the Irishwoman cleared her throat: “Of course - after all, if a student wishes to speak with their professor in private, they’re fully entitled to.” Rackham and Rookwood both nodded in the Headmistress’ direction. “I shall check up on San’s tower then, make sure there are no more trespassers,” Rackham announced, slowly moving out of his portrait. “And I shall do the same with Rookwood castle. Still, such a terrible shame what has the good House of Rookwood come to, not to mention the once grand estate…”

Soon it was almost as if the young woman and the Headmistress were entirely alone, until: “I know you’re lingering just beyond the frame, San,” Fitzgerald said, her hands elegantly folded in front of herself. “I merely wonder as to why shouldn’t the rest of us know what you intend to speak to the Headmistress about. It’s not like either of us ever had shown any sort of unreliability, seeing as we protected what could possibly become the biggest weapon in the Wizarding world for centuries. Besides, four people, more experiences, a larger possibility of helping the student should she require it,” came from one of the empty-appearing frames.  The Ravenclaw immediately felt a wave of frustration, as well as more colour rising into her face: “I-it’s something of a private matter, Professor Bakar…”

After a few seconds of pregnant silence, there came a sigh: “Very well. Leaving you two alone…”

Finally, Professor Fitzgerald turned her gaze back at the young woman before her: “It seems we’ve got privacy now - what did you want to talk about, lass?”

Dear Merlin… This was going to be anything but easy.

“Do you remember how Isidora would rid people of their pain?” she asked. At the mention of Isidora’s name, the Headmistress visibly tensed. Nevertheless, she nodded her head. “What actually happened to her father afterwards? I mean - in one of the pensieve memories, after she rids him of his pain, he seems… relieved. Happy, actually. Grateful. But then, in Professor Bakar’s memories, he actually has no more emotions left… He’s like an empty husk of a human… I wanted to know if… Well, if Isidora taking his pain away led to the other emotions leaving as well.”

Niamh stayed quiet for several seconds, clearly considering her answer. Before she could speak however, the young woman added: “In your memories, I saw her take your pain too… You didn’t… You didn’t ever feel like you were losing grasp on your other feelings as well, or?”

“No, no…” the Headmistress replied softly, “no, I can’t say I have. I can understand where you’re coming from, though. After San… After Isidora’s death, we had a lot to deal with. A lot of damage to fix. We had to try and make the caverns as inaccessible as possible, make up a cover story for Isidora’s passing, and, of course, alter some of the students’ memories… It was only after we made sure that Isidora didn’t leave behind anything that could potentially lead any new wielder of ancient magic astray did San inform us of the state he found Isidora’s father in…

“We went to visit him, all of us, and found him quite like you described - an empty husk. Mind, he was alive and, well, he was functioning. He worked on his field in the morning, fed the chickens, took care of the house, cooked for himself, ate, slept… But he did so without a word, without a single emotion. And when we tried to speak to him, well… It was like he did hear us, but our words were like noise and nothing else…

“We… well, we did attempt to.. put the pain back… Percival found the jar of goblin silver Isidora used to store her father’s pain in, that evening she showed us. Only, well…”

The young woman was hanging onto every word, wondering and fearing.

“Well, Professor?”

Headmistress Fitzgerald heaved a long sigh: “He didn’t return to his original state… Instead of regaining his emotions, his personality, there was only one feeling he was able to experience - a blinding rage. Nothing else than anger. Not ten seconds after Percival returned the magic into Mr Morganach’s chest did he try to attack us, blindly and in wild-abandon. In the end the poor man had to be transported to Saint Mungo’s. We thought it appropriate even though he was a muggle, since his malady was a magical one. There was never any improvement, though…”

The Ravenclaw gulped audibly, her hands beginning to tremble slightly. Would this happen to Aesop? Would he… would he eventually lose his emotions, his feelings, his very identity?

“And what about the others… Isidora took many others’ pain, didn't she? Yours too… Did anyone else lose all emotion?” she asked and closed her hands into fist to stop them from shaking.

“No. I have lived for many years after Isidora’s death. That of her father too. She did remove some pain from within me, that of my husband dying… You know, when I first witnessed Isidora removing her father’s pain, I thought it was… kind. To take away such a heavy burden one’s been carrying for so long. But then I got to experience it myself. And at first, it did feel like a relief… but then I found that something felt missing. I didn’t feel any pain caused by my grief, but I also didn’t feel the same warmth and the sort of intensity I did before when I remembered my husband. The same love perhaps… It occurred to me then that… That pain is a horrible thing to feel, but at the same time it’s something that’s needed in order for us to be able to properly feel all of the other emotions as well. And it’s the thing that tells us we truly loved somebody. Without the pain of having lost my husband, I suddenly didn’t quite understand the other emotions I held for him.. And I rather think that it was the same for Isidora’s father, whose pain was such a great part of him, it was connected to all other aspects, and he, in time, became less and less balanced. Not in pain, but not happy either.

“It’s difficult to say what came first; whether it was Isidora’s want to ‘fix’ her father, or whether she was already consumed by her lust for power. As you surely remember, she would-”

“She would inhale the residue magic from the pain she removed…”

“Precisely. With each wisp of that dark power she accepted, she grew hungrier and hungrier for more. So she may have been simply tearing away at her father’s emotions to try and balance them out until nothing remained… or she might’ve taken all of them in one take, only to strengthen herself further… We shall never know. What we do know is that nobody else was stripped of their emotions this much, none of the students, none of the residents of various Hamlets we heard of…”

Looking up at the Headmistress once more, the young woman nodded her head. This was… good news, wasn’t it? That is that nobody else was stripped away of their humanity, of their personality and of their feelings. Perhaps it meant that Aesop too won’t be losing any of his. However, how big part of Aesop was the pain in his leg? And was the difference between physical pain and psychical one so large? Having lost Professor Fig those two years ago, the girl knew that mental pain can easily feel like the bodily one. Worse, actually. And Aesop carried both of them. Would the mental pain become lesser like the physical one did? And if so, just how large a part of Aesop’s sense of identity was it?

Niamh observed the student with deeply curious eyes, soon pulling her out of her thoughts: “Will you allow me a question now as well?”

Raising her eyes, the girl nodded, not quite prepared to speak yet. “Why are you asking all of this? That is, I could understand you asking all of this out of curiosity, being a true Ravenclaw, and that is admirable. However, I have a reason to believe simple curiosity is not the case this time. Why now? What happened?”

Taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts further, the young woman breathed deeply: “Before I answer your question, Professor, I have one more - Isidora would take people’s pain away using her wand. And the pain looked like this dark cluster of magic. Is it at all possible to… replicate this spell accidentally, wandlesly, with no intent on taking anything away, and, uh, without the dark cluster of magic?”

Niamh looked very confused for several seconds, actually opening and closing her mouth a few times as she thought about the answer to the strange question, before finally settling on: “I… I don’t know… Professor Rackham would’ve perhaps been able to answer that, being a wielder of ancient magic himself, but I… Well, logically, when it comes to spells, the same result cannot be achieved by using two vastly different techniques. Not to mention a vastly complicated spell such as this could not be performed accidentally.”

“But that is what happened, professor,” the Ravenclaw finally spoke, no longer able to keep up with this careful figurative dance the two were performing around one another, “I think I accidentally took someone’s pain away…”

“I…” Professor Fitzgerald made a stop, her eyes quickly getting suspicious: “What did you do?”

The young girl swallowed and closed her eyes: “Professor Sharp - he’s one of the teachers who aided in the battle for the Final repository - he was injured some decade ago, by a curse nobody was able to break. It left him with a maimed leg. He’s got a scar that goes from his hip all the way to below the knee of his left leg, in the shape of a lighting strike, and he has a limp…”

“How do you know how his scar looks-”

“Him and I… our relationship’s quite recently moved past the boundaries of teacher and student. We became involved romantically.” 

Niamh Fitzgerald, esteemed former Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Sorcery was left staring with her mouth wide open. The young Ravenclaw would’ve probably thought it hilarious if the situation had been any different than it was. The woman who prepared her a trial so terrifying and terrific, perfected into the most macabre of details, and causing her nightmares for many nights to come, was staring at her like she just sprouted not only a second head, but also a third and fourth one, and all of them were of different animals.

“I… That’s…” Niamh grasped for words.

“It’s not against any of the school rules,” the young woman spoke quickly, “All that is stated is that all extra-curricular relationships between teachers and students must be prevented from interfering with the running of the school and lessons, and in case the relationship is of the romantic status, the student must be of legal age. Which I am.”

Professor Fitzgerald finally closed her mouth, but it was obvious this revelation left her a little shaken. A little part of the student revelled in this knowledge - for once she wasn’t the one left with wide eyes and trying to process what just happened. She, however, didn’t exactly have the time to let the former Headmistress fully process the new information she was given. Even so, though, given the period of time during which the older woman lived, she decided it would be wise to keep her words as proper as possible.

“Last week the two of us… Lay together, as a man and a woman do. And something happened that night - vines of light wrapped around our bodies entirely before slowly disappearing again. That hasn’t happened since. However, today we discovered that my magic had left a mark on him, on the scar on his leg. A paler patch of skin in the shape of the same symbol that’s throughout this very room. And underneath, I could see the traces of ancient magic, the blue glow. His leg had been hurting less than before, but the pain hadn’t fully left. We don’t know what we can expect from this development - which is why I came to you.”

Fitzgerald seemed to finally get her bearings then and cleared her throat: “Well… That’s… quite the news. I… Well, of course it’s good that you came to me, I’ll try to tell you all I know, but I warn you: it may not be enough. After all, Professor Rackham is the one who also bore the ability of ancient magic, and he’s therefore more knowledgeable about it than myself…”

The young woman cringed slightly: “I was aware that it might have been the case. However, given the… nature of the situation, I felt more comfortable discussing it with you, as a woman with a woman.” 

“Naturally,” replied the professor, a small smile actually appearing on her face. 

“I really need to know one thing though - are you certain there’s no risk of the professor losing his emotions, like Isidora’s father?” asked the young woman then, gazing up at the portrait. The former Headmistress sighed: “I of course don’t know that for certain… However, subjectively, I do not think so. After all, you said it yourself that the process was entirely different from that of Isidora - and it seems that instead of ‘taking’, you actually ‘gave’ something.

“Now, I am entering something of an uncharted territory here, but let me just say this: love is one of the strongest, if not the absolutely strongest, ancient magic there is, and intercourse itself can make one more… susceptible to powerful magic. You see, it’s when we are at our most vulnerable, our most open. In our day to day lives, we place a varying level of restraint on ourselves, etiquette tells us to behave and speak a certain way, and it can even go as far as to directly influence the strength of our magic. The more closed off, the more volatile this magic gets. Hence the unfortunate occasional cases of Obscurus. However, when we’re as open as we get during this ultimate act of love, it’s not unheard of for powerful magic to flow freely through our veins, and collide with the magic of our partner. Usually, it only serves to… heighten the sensations.

“Actual accidental magic during such a union is rather rare, but not entirely unheard of. However, it can get quite tricky to find mentions of it, as it is naturally not exactly a topic that is discussed casually, for obvious reasons. I’ll try to aid you to the best of my abilities. I even have an idea about how your situation came to be, but I cannot make any promises that what I’m saying is entirely correct.”

The young woman heaved a sigh of relief: “Anything is good, Professor.”

—

“Alright… now, let me take a look at that.” Noreen said after she’d finished writing down Aesop’s own findings and sent the parchment floating over to her desk, where she could pore over it later. She turned to face the potions master expectantly, raising an eyebrow when he remained right where he was, leaning against one of the beds, unmoving: “Well?”

Aesop scoffed: “What, do you want me to just drop my trousers right now?” The nurse rolled her eyes at the man: “Obviously not. Go behind one of the privacy screens, undress, lay yourself down and wait for me there. You can use the blanket to cover any sensitive areas.”

As Noreen prepared a blank report for her to fill in as she examined the professor’s leg, she had to roll her eyes again. Of course Aesop Sharp limped down the Hospital wing all the way towards the cots furthest from the door. “Make sure the doors are locked,” he called over his shoulder as he disappeared behind the privacy curtain. 

“First he’s ready to drop his trousers right in front of the entrance, now he’d prefer this room to be locked like the bloody Gringotts…” Noreen muttered under her breath. The nurse gave him a few minutes to undress and make himself comfortable on the bed, all the while wondering as to how come there was such sudden progress. 

Noreen Blainey only started as the school nurse five years ago, only a few weeks after she finished with her healer studies, making her the third third newest addition to the Hogwarts staff, as well as the second youngest member of it. Matilda Weasley was rightfully slightly sceptical about accepting Noreen at first.

“I know you were a right hard worker when you still studied here, even by Hufflepuff standards, and I know you retained this quality of yours all the way through Healer school. Your instructors have nothing but good things to say about you.”

“Thank you, Professor.”“However, I am slightly worried as to whether you’ll be able to execute this sort of… authority over the students. I needn't tell you that while you and some others were indeed working hard while here, many others would do nearly anything to get out of class, even if for a quarter an hour. And some of them have quite drastic, though very creative, ideas on how to do so.”

“You needn’t worry, Professor Weasley, I certainly don’t plan on letting anyone who’d wish to skip class off the hook that easily. You know I was never the one to condone these kinds of actions.”

“That I do.”

Noreen was able to wash the Deputy Headmistress’ doubts within half a year.

Known for her strict attitude, students thought twice before pretending to be sick just to get out of writing a pop quiz they didn’t prepare for. However, those who were genuinely sick and/or injured knew that they could always rely on the Nurse to fix them right back up. Noreen also became popular with the Fifth and Seventh years swiftly, due to her open attitude on Wideye potion, and the female population of the castle knew they were always welcome to collect what they needed on their days. 

However, Noreen herself was surprised how the gruff Potions master learned to trust not only her expertise and professional judgement, but also her as a person fairly quickly. To be fair, perhaps she should not have been quite that surprised - after all, those few nights over the past years when she had to rush into his chambers, hauling several potions bundled haphazardly in her own dressing gown, to find the professor in a rather pitiful state, sweating, panting, sometimes screaming in the unholy pain he was in, that all stayed only between them, Noreen never spoke of it with anyone. Such was the physician–patient privilege, of course, but Noreen decided to go a step further, and only ever wrote what transpired during these nights in her records as ‘Night episode - potions administered’. 

She walked around the privacy screen to find the Potions professor lying down on his back on the cot - his coat and jacket deposited on a nearby hanger, so his upper body was only covered by his shirt and waistcoat. His bottom half was indeed covered by the white blanket, save for the teacher’s long left leg. Aesop had his hands folded upon his midsection and was looking straight up into the ceiling. However, before Noreen could as much as sit on a chair next to the bed and begin her examination, someone took hold of the handle on the door and attempted to enter. In vain.

A second passed before there was a knock.

“Unless you’re about to die, please wait outside,” Noreen called coolly, fully prepared to let whoever was out there wait since professor Sharp had such a high preference of privacy. 

“Uh, is Professor Sharp in there?” came a voice from the outside. The Nurse’s eyebrows rose slightly, and she looked at the professor to find him having risen himself up and leaning on his elbows. He gave her a slightly sheepish look: “Let her in.”

What?

Every now and then Noreen Blainey felt like she understood the potions master. And each and every time she was promptly shown she was mistaken. Oh well.

Using her wand, she unlocked the door and stepped out from behind the privacy screen. She knew who it was of course, though not so much because the young woman came around often, but rather because of what transpired around this girl two years prior.

“Miss (L/N). Your teacher is unwell, surely whatever you need can wait,” she attempted to dismiss the girl.

“Aes-” escaped her mouth before she quickly cleared her throat, “P-professor Sharp is unwell?” Noreen blinked in confusion. Before she could say anything else, however, Aesop’s baritone cut through the air: “I’m fine, (F/N). Over here.”

Now Blainey definitely didn’t understand. She briefly considered pinching herself to see whether she wasn’t in some bizarre dream in which the grumpy former Auror who had very few favourites among students, and who preferred spending his free time anywhere but in a company of a student, was inviting one of them to seek him in the Hospital wing, where he was lying half naked on the bed.

That is, she knew the two of them met up every now and then, ever since that escapade in her Fifth year, but she never would’ve thought they’d be quite this close… 

The young woman made her way over to the Professor’s bed, carefully watching the Nurse from out of the corner of her eyes. And as she rounded the privacy screen, a single look was all it took for Noreen.

She never thought she was going to bear witness to such a sight, but here she was - the moment the Ravenclaw entered the former Auror’s field of view, his eyes literally sparkled, and one of his rare smiles spread upon his roguishly handsome face. And the young woman wasn’t able to conceal her own happiness at seeing the older man.

Well, fancy that! Blainey thought as she watched the short silent exchange between the couple of them. Because it was rather obvious the two of them were a lot closer than she would’ve thought. Blast it - she owed 2 Galleons to Hecat now, having bet that the young woman would get together with the Sallow lad. Which was completely logical, seeing as the two of them seemed to be joined at the hip the moment the lass stepped into the bloody castle! Did the DADA Professor know with whom she’d end up instead? She didn’t say... Only said that she ‘very much doubted’ that the girl’s and Sallow’s relationship would ever leave the grounds of a platonic friendship… Blainey was so certain though, the lad stared at her like she was a holy picture for Merlin’s sake. Oh well…

And since the teacher obviously had no qualms about letting the young woman see him in his current state of undress (despite the fact that everything but his bad leg was hidden underneath the blanket), well, that was telling by itself. Noreen only sighed: “Alright. Get to explaining.”

She then finally got to examining the leg. There were several seconds of silence before Aesop spoke, his voice measured and careful: “do we have your discretion, Noreen?” The Nurse raised her eyes to look at the couple. How curious to see the two of them nervous. She wasn’t sure she ever saw the former Auror nervous - despite his limp and the occasional nightly episode, he was always proud, confident, intimidating almost. She was quite glad she wasn’t a student anymore when he came to teach potions, having graduated in the summer before he replaced Professor Sinclair. And yet, now he was looking at her nervously and with a nearly bated breath. The Ravenclaw was as well, and Noreen saw her hands twitching, as if she was focusing all of her energy on not coming closer to grab the Potions master’s hand.

“Well, she’s a grown woman, so she can do whatever the devil she wants. All I care about is whether both sides consent and nobody is forcing anyone into anything…” Noreen raised her voice somewhat at the end of her sentence, looking into the Ravenclaw’s eyes in a clear indication of a question. “I promise, Nurse Blainey, nobody is forcing anyone into anything, and I very much consent to what me and Ae-... what me and professor Sharp have…” Noreen scoffed: “Might as well call him by his name, seeing as you obviously call him that.”

The girl went slightly pink under the nurse’s gaze and used her hand to squeeze at her arm rather awkwardly. “Look, I don’t actually care all that much about how the two of you came to be, and I definitely won’t be running around the school telling people. Though the two of you best work on your stiff upper lips, as one look at the two of you was enough for me to figure you out, and I’m much better at seeing through people’s physical state rather than the emotional one. What I’m more interested in is what happened with the leg and what you have to do with it.”

“Not that easy, Noreen - not even we know exactly what happened,” Aesop said, audibly calmer now that he knew Noreen would keep his and the young woman’s relationship to herself. Speaking of the young woman, she perked up somewhat: “Actually, I was able to find something out… I think that I accidentally imprinted some of the magic I possess on your leg - that much we gathered, obviously. But I found that the ancient magic can be something of an energy source - a different kind of it ’powers’ Hogwarts as well, like the Grand Staircase. It’s the reason all of the places built by the Keepers look the way they do, spotless and like they were built only yesterday,  the ancient magic keeps them that way.”

Both Aesop and Blainey listened carefully. “I think that when the magic attached itself to your leg, well, the curse there latched onto it and started feeding off it rather than your leg itself - which would explain the pain lessening. As to whether this effect will last, whether it will become stronger or weaker - that I don’t know… However, given that the magic present within the Keeper trials and the Map chamber was able to last for at least four hundred years and doesn’t seem to be getting any weaker, I think this effect could potentially last…” 

Chills ran down the Potions master’s spine at his sweetheart’s words.

Blainey of course heard the full extent of what happened those two years ago. She didn’t necessarily understand all of it, but then again she didn’t have to. For her, the main thing was the result - therefore, she returned to examining the professor’s leg: “So you say the pain has lessened. Do you feel it right now as we speak?” Professor Sharp shook his head: “Barely. And even so, it’s more like… the memory of the pain, rather than the pain itself. It feels like it should be there, given it was there for more than a decade now, but instead there’s only a shadow of it.”

“And when you walk?” Blainey continued, carefully prodding at the scar tissue with her fingers, noting that Aesop made a small grimace whenever her fingers ventured onto the redder parts of the scar, but seemed to not feel her touch when she directed it at the lighter areas of it. What was ‘covered’ by the pale patch of skin looked like a completely mundane healed scar, and was gradually turning into the angry red where the pale patch ended.

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the young woman shift her weight from one foot to the other slightly uncomfortably, her eyes directed at Noreen’s hands on Aesop’s leg. The nurse rolled her eyes - of course, while Miss (L/N) was one of the more level headed students, not even she was immune to that nasty momentary flare of jealousy of witnessing another woman touching her beloved like so. “Do calm down, Miss, I’ve no intention to touch the professor in any other way than medical.”

Aesop raised his eyebrows and the girl got red in the cheeks once more: “I didn’t-...” “The good Nurse is merely having a laugh, don’t mind her,” the Potions master was quick to answer, in turn making Noreen roll her eyes some more: “What’s  walking like?”

“Walking hurts still, but considerably less so than before… However, it also hurts somewhat differently…” the professor mused out loud.

“That’s to be expected - in continuously insisting not to use your cane and instead just limping around, you have not done yourself any favours. Even should the pain in your leg that was caused by the curse disappear completely, it won’t change the fact you have walked in a way that minimised it for more than a decade, that’s damage done to your muscles, your very posture - it would take some time and a lot of exercise for you to return to normal walking. 

Aesop’s head was once again whirling - normal walking. Bloody hell, Aesop wasn’t sure the term would ever be applicable to him again. Was there truly a chance for him to walk normally once more? Instead of dragging his bad leg behind himself, undignified and weak (though he knew very few saw him that way), the hope of being able to walk straight, proud, his head held high, now loomed over him closer than ever before. And this time it seemed so real. It was a sweet siren’s call for the former Auror, and he was very nearly afraid to reach for it in fear of it turning into naught but dust before his eyes. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to get himself back together if he decided to hope, truly hope, and then lose this hope again.

“What do you propose we do then?” asked the Ravenclaw.

“Well, I’m going to give you a list of exercises, which I implore you, Aesop, to try to do as often as possible, but within some sensible limits. There’s also trying to walk normally, for which another person should be present as well, so that they can correct your posture if need be, and be there for when you inevitably grow tired or the pain becomes too severe, for you to lean against. I presume that’s where you’ll come in quite handy, Miss (L/N),” Noreen listed, and Aesop’s sweetheart nodded her head vehemently. “Just don’t be foolish about it, Aesop. I understand that you must now feel anxious to start walking normally, if at all possible, as soon as you can, but there’s no point in maiming yourself because you tried to hurry up the healing process. Keep reminding yourself that you walked with a limp for over ten years now, you’re not going to prance about like a gazelle within a week. Overdo it, and you’re right back at the beginning.”

It was Aesop’s turn to nod his head.

“Now, this all only applies if whatever it is that makes your leg feel better holds, naturally. Shall it worsen, don’t try to force anything, you’ll only end up hurting yourself more.”

“Will do.”

“Now. How about you try to show us if you even remember how to walk normally?”

Aesop’s eyebrows shot up again momentarily before he dropped his gaze to his partially covered lower body: “may I wear my trousers before I do so?”

And so Nurse Blainey rolled her eyes the third time, now shaking her head as well in exasperation. The young Ravenclaw, however, seemed to be fighting the urge to giggle, perhaps even suggesting Aesop stays in his current state of undress. “Just your drawers for now - I want to see how the muscles in your legs react. I’ll even re-lock the door for you,” the Nurse offered dryly.

“How gracious of you,” replied Aesop in the same manner. Noreen excused herself then to place the report which wrote itself throughout the examination among the others - and then made a stop. After all, this was one that was better hidden, the knowledge of ancient magic carefully kept between the staff (excluding Black). Not to mention the whole bit about a rather clandestine student-professor romance. So, she instead decided to store the parchment in her office/bedroom, hidden away from prying eyes. 

“I’m only leaving for a short moment,” she called over her shoulder, “do try to control yourselves.”

Aesop only rolled his eyes and finally threw the blanket off his person, once more revealing himself to his sweetheart. However, before he could as much as reach for his pants, he made a stop. The young woman stepped closer before lowering herself to her knees before him.

“Darling…” he breathed out, his hand coming up to stroke her cheek as if on its own. She leaned into his touch shortly before dropping her head and dragging her nose over the parts of his scar that weren’t painful to touch. She proceeded to kiss them as well, something Aesop would never have imagined anyone would ever do.

“You know, when I was down there, talking with the former Headmistress,” she whispered, pressing one last kiss to the damaged skin before carefully resting her chin upon his thigh, “she said that every spell is, essentially, a wish. A wizard or a witch can go around waving their wand and shouting incantations, but it’ll be for nothing if they don’t wish to perform the spell, if they don’t wish to levitate or summon this and that. And that night... Although the magic happened by accident, my wish behind it was intentional. I love you deeply... What I wanted more than anything was to alleviate your pain, I wanted you to feel as good as you were making me feel. I truly meant what I said - I would love you under any circumstances, even if you were to limp for the rest of our lives. But I would be happiest if you didn't have to endure that pain. And I think that is the difference between what happened with Isidora Morganach and her father and the two of us… Isidora, she took. But me, I gave you a part of myself. And I want nothing else than to give myself to you in the entirety. If you want me…”

Aesop used all of his strength to pull the girl up from the ground then. He oftentimes thought himself cynical. Cynical, battle-hardened, life-toughened former Auror. This young woman, however, was able to do so few could. Slip by his defences using nothing but her honesty. Her kindness. Her love. And each time it got him hopelessly drunk on the feeling. He pulled her into his lap and chased her lips in a desperate kiss, whispering words of love each time he had to pull back for a breath. And just as she promised to give herself to him entirely, he promised to always strive to prove he was worthy of her, no matter if he was walking or limping.

Several minutes and many tender kisses later, there came a voice from behind the privacy screen.

“Please tell me you managed to put your pants on at least…”

—

“Alright, how is this?” the professor asked, breathing through the discomfort of forcing himself to walk in a way his muscles weren’t used to - normally, that is. He was partially leaning against his beloved, something he hoped would change soon, but his step was quite measured and fluid. There was the occasional lighter step, but other than that, the teacher was fairly certain he was doing a pretty alright job. “You’re doing brilliant, Aesop,” his sweetheart said softly, her smile obvious in her voice.

For the past few weeks, whenever the two of them found the time to be together following a dinner in the Great Hall, instead of immediately retiring into Aesop’s chambers, they shared a short walk around the Hogwarts grounds. They both knew paths nobody frequented after darkness fell, and they used it to their advantage. The potions master felt stronger every day. That is, he never truly felt weak, but his limp undeniably slowed him down. Upon Noreen’s insistence, he used his cane to get around during the day and further worked on regaining his strength. The results were visible already - his colleagues commented on his limp becoming smaller, his face not being as screwed up in pain every time he was faced with stairs. Stairs were still a problem, but each ascent and descent served to motivate Aesop further. 

The pale patch on his leg grew more pronounced, more visible - its pattern was undeniable now, and his scar turned entirely pink from the raw red. He no longer felt the pain of the curse, something he wouldn’t have thought at all possible a mere month ago. He stood taller, prouder. But most of all, he was grateful. Overwhelmingly so. Every single day he woke up, no matter if the sun shone into his bedroom from the other room or cats and dogs were raining outside, each morning he woke up, moved his leg, and realised that he didn’t feel the oh so familiar ache, he couldn’t help but grin like an absolute loon. And on those blessed mornings he woke up with his arms full of his beloved’s deliciously smelling body, he buried his face into her neck, prompting her to giggle at the prickly sensation of his beard on her soft skin.

It would take some more time for him to fully heal, to be able to walk like he had those nearly thirteen years ago, but Aesop was prepared to do whatever it took. After all, he did want his beloved to be able to lean against him for a change.

And, just like her, he wanted to give himself over to her fully.

Entirely.

---

thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. You can check this story as well as all of my other stories over on AO3 as well ❤

[bangchansgirlsblog]

My biggest regret

Part nine

**

"Y/n?" His voice was soft trying to wakeup her up from her sleep. "Baby, you need to wakeup and eat,"

Chan softly shook her body.

Her eyes slowly flutter open. She was tired and exhausted from the chemo she had just recieved a few hours ago. It was obvious.

"Hey," she said. A tiny smile played on her lips as she stirred. "What time is it?"

"8:10 and mum said that you haven't eaten ever since you got home with Hannah. Let's go eat and you can come back and rest yeah?" He sat by her and slowly stroked her hair trying to keep her awake.

He had showered and his hair was wet. He was dressed in a shirt and a pair of shorts. His silver hoops were on and he had his silver bracelet on.

"Okay, I'll shower first and come down stairs," she finally gave in and slowly (with the help of Chan) sat up on the bed. "Where's Hannah?" She asked rubbing her eyes.

"She went out with her friends but she'll be home in a bit, do you need help with anything? I haven't done this whole care taker thing ever since I left so I totally forgot how it works," He frowned.

"No it's fine Chan," she giggled appreciating his concern and effort, "I can shower on my own, go ahead and eat. I'll be down in a few."

"I wanna wait for you though," his hands intertwine with hers. Y/n liked that he was being so clingy. They hadn’t had time to be close to eachother all day and she missed him.

"Okay then, I'll hurry up and we can go," his face brightened and his hands automatically carry her out of bed and into the bathroom.

"Channie you have to get out so I can change," Her laugh was so contagious that Chan couldn't help but break his act.

"Fine, call me if you need anything. I'm right outside," and with that he closed the door behind him and let her shower and get dressed.

Dinner was quiet. Everyone enjoyed the hot home cooked meal that was before them as they discussed their day. The boys explained the little things they did in order to prepare for their show in a few days while the parents talked about how proud they were and how they loved watching them grow. The usual.

"There's a party tomorrow night-"

"Ou a party I'm so in!" Hannah exploded out of nowhere interrupting Changbin causing everyone to laugh.

"Where is this party? And will there be adults?" Chan's mum asked.

"Mum. We're literally grown men," Chan chuckled.

"Oh sorry, I'm sorry. It's a habit," she laughed while covering her face in embarrassment.

"It's fine Mrs.B," Han assured her, "Your good but yeah the party is at one of our idol friends. She leaves 30 minutes away,"

"Oh lovely! Well I hope you guys won't be out late at night. It's Christmas time nothing is safe,"

"Mum can I please go?" Hannah dropped her fork.

"No Hannah, these are Chan's friends."

"Chan can I please come? I promise I'll behave and I'll do your laundry for the rest of the time your here and I'll even forget the fact that you ghosted me for 4 years of my-"

"Fine, fine you can come," Chan throws his hands up in the air in surrender.

"You can go BUT Y/n has to go with you Hannah," Chan’s dad instructed.

"What? But dad you know she doesn't like partying!" Hannah rebelled. She was determined to go for the party and it showed.

"Well then, you'll have to convince her because no Y/n, no party,"

"Y/n come on! You have to come," Seungmin encouraged her, "It'll be so much fun!"

Y/n looked around the table. She didn't know what to do. A part of her really didn't want to go to the party. It wasn't her thing but a part of her didn't want to disappoint Hannah or the boys. So she let out a sigh.

"Fine I'll ask my mum,"

This alone made Hannah jump into her arms squealing and leaving kisses on her face before she got a scolding from bangchan.

"Yah! Don't you know she just got chemo?! She's tired! Get off," chan scolded his younger sister.

"Whatever grandpa, Y/n's my wife anyway," Hannah stuck her tongue out before climbing of the now laughing Y/n and sitting besides her.

Chan’s dad rubbed Y/n back before whispering in a joking matter, "Y/n good luck tomorrow,"

"Thanks. I'm going to need it uncle," the boys cheered, giving her the motivation she needed.

**

The next day. 8:15 pm

The music was loud. The room was hot and it stunk. Y/n didn't like any bit of it. She hated it. She wanted to be home sleeping in her bed but she was here instead...

"Let's go get drinks!" Hannah's voice rung through her ear. She simply nodded and followed behind her closely. Trying to avoid the popular rich kids. She had no intention of getting any type of attention but if you arrive to a party with THE straykids you kinda already attract attention anyway.

Once they had arrived to the party, the boys had been each pulled away by someone. Everyone wanted a peace of them. Everyone wanted their attention and that left the girls alone in the middle of the room trying to navigate their way through people they didn't even know.

"Here, it's non-alcoholic," Hannah passed her the cup while filling up hers with the drink that had alchohol in it.

"Don't get too wasted Hannah, I don't know these people and-" before she could even finish her sentence I.N was already by her side pulling her away from the now lost Y/n.

"Fuck," she whispered to herself before looking around trying to look for Chan.

People were staring at her weird and she didn't like it. Was it cause she was the only sober person in the room? Did they know about her and Chan? Did they like her? Was she dressed weird?

The thoughts run through her head as she consumed her drink. She didn’t want to start panicking when they just got here. It hadn’t even been 45 minutes.

She was going to enjoy this party. She was already here anyway.

The music wasn't that much enjoyable but she was able to stand it for the moment while she padded through the crowds.

"Felix!" She called out for the boy who was sat on the couch with two females in his arms. One on the left and on the right. This took her by surprised because She felt uncomfortable but decided to shrug it off because who was she? she barely new him so she couldn't say anything about it.

"Hey Y/nnie!" He was drunk. Y/n could instantly tell, "Whatsup babygirl? Looking for someone? Having fun?" He removed his hands off the girls and decided to pay attention to Y/n because in his state right now. He was going to flirt with her. He didnt care what anyone around him thought.

Both girls looked iirtated by her presence. Who was she? They had never seen her before and yet here she was stealing their “man” who in all honesty didn’t even know their names.

"Felix where's Chan? I've looked everywhere and-"

"Cannonball!!" A loud, familiar voice yelled before the sound of water splashing and gasps run through the room. Who was that? Y/n didn’t even bother to look.

"Y/nnie, do you wanna smoke?" Felix pushes the girls off before standing up (barley even making it)

"Felix you're drunk, this isn't good. I hope the boys aren't as wasted as you. We should get you some water,"

"Oh your cute, you know that right?" His eyes were red and her eyes landed on his shirt because it was halfway unbuttoned. “My eyes are up here babygirl,”

"Thank you but come on, let's go to the kitchen Lix,"

"I like it when you call me Lix," he giggled. Y/n was shook. Why was he like this? Her hand wrapped around him and guided him into the kitchen and she helped him sit down on the stool. She grabbed the bottle of water and started feeding it to him.

His hands wrapped around her waist so he would fall backwards.

"You smell- you smell nice," he hiccuped through sips, "and you have pretty hair, pretty eyes, pretty face and you're thick as fu-"

"Felix! I think you should just keep quiet," Y/n said feeling embarrassed, "sit here and drink water, I'm going to check on the other guys,"

"Okay, yes ma'am," he sat up straight and stayed as still as he could. Y/n found this amusing all though she was extremely worried.

She was wondering around the room when she decided to check in any of the boys were outside and indeed she found Han...in the pool. In the pool? In the pool! In. The. Pool. Everything made sense. He was the one yelling a few minutes ago.

"Jisung! I swear to God if you don't get out this instant-"

"Y/nnie! Come swim with us!" He slurred trying to pull himself out of the pool. Her anger was slowly growing. She was frustrated but mostly shocked because yes they could do whatever they wanted but she thought they would be atleast responsible.

“Han you need to get out the pool and put on clothes or else you’ll end up falling sick!” She exclaimed while grabbing his clothes off from the floor.

“Fine but you’re such a buzz kill,” he pouted and grabbed the clothes out of her hands before proceeding to go back into the house.

She followed him just in case he decided to go back into the pool but he didn’t. He entered the bathroom got dressed and followed her to the kitchen where they both found Felix making out with some random girl.

She was disappointed but she didn’t want to say anything. Making note to talk about this later when she had calmed down.

“Okay, both of you just drink water. Please. You can barely walk,” she passed Han a bottle of water and watched him drink it all. As she monitored the boys she couldn’t help but worry about Chan and his whereabouts. She needed to find him quick because she was ready to go home.

They had been there for 3 hours and she had enough of it.

“Han have you seen Chan?” She asked him.

“Hm…Maybe- I’m trying to think here. Oh! Check upstairs,” His words were a bit hard to understand but she understood it.

“Thank you,” she grabbed her phone off the table and made her way up the stairs.

There were a few couples making out by the stairs case but she wasn’t phased by it. She just wanted to go home.

The second floor had four rooms.

Her sweaty hands open the first door and she could not believe her eyes.

“Leeknow?!” She screamed. “Leeknow?! ew! That’s so disgusting!” She covered her eyes and slammed the door shut. Whatever she saw she swore never to talk about it again.

You’re probably wondering what she saw. Well…Uhm. Let’s just say he was busy and he was sweaty.

Her head was spinning and her eyes were burning. Someone was smoking a blunt so it was understandable but she knew this wasn’t safe for her or her condition so she rushed through each door until she stopped on the fourth door.

She quickly opened it thinking she wouldn’t find Chan but there he was. Sat on the bed. His legs spread apart and a-

a blonde girl in between his legs? He was smiling and stroking her hair. Then he leaned in and they started to make out.

She watched in horror. Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She couldn’t believe it.

But are we really surprised?

**

The book gets crazier lol

Tags 🏷️: @ka0ila @lozurcoz @lixie-phoria @kai-lee08 @moonofthenight @greyyeti @jinnie-ret @yangbbokari @sungprotector @felixoasis @leetaste @hanniemylovelyquokka

[kinzis-writing]

Christmas Surprises | Tee Higgins

Blogmas Day One: Tee Higgins x Reader

Summary: Y/N was hoping to spend Christmas with Tee, but he was flying to his hometown and she would be staying in Ohio. Unless her family had other plans.

Warning(s): mentions of big family, written in "your" context, tee x you.

This is short and I apologize, I have been busy with finals this week and next. I will try to make the next ones longer!

The snow fell down in the city of Cincinatti, the Christmas Eve dinner around the Y/L/N's house made the house smell of turkey and Ham. Originally, you had planned to cook dinner at your house so you could invite Tee's mother (and other family) and your family. It was easier to have dinner with everyone at Christmas time than traveling to many different locations. You and Tee were going to let his family crash with you all and celebrate in Ohio instead of flying down to Tennessee.

Unfortunately, Y/N was in Cincinatti with her family and Tee had flown down to Tennessee to spend it with his mother. She had hoped that they would spend Christmas together and in their shared home, but she knew that it was unlikely to be able to see him before the 27th of December.

"Y/N!" Your aunt called as she walked up to where you were helping your family member cook. "Where's that handsome man of yours?"

You gave her a smile, but the question still made you yearn for your man more. "He's spending Christmas in Tennessee this year, it's where his family is."

"I'm sorry, dear. He still treat you well though?" She asked.

You nodded with a soft smile, "Yes, he's perfect." you promised before excusing yourself to cool off on the back porch. All the family members in the medium sized house, cooking, and talk of your boyfriend made you feel closed in. It was clear to you and anyone that knew you, how much you loved him. You had never loved anyone the way or as much as you have loved him.

After taking some time to cool off and clear your head, you went back in to help finish the cooking. The faster the food got done, the faster everyone ate, and the night would carry on. Hopefully you could get your mind off of your boyfriend for a few hours and not think about how much you miss him.

"I think we're ready to eat." Your mother spoke as she laid her Christmas plates and silverware out. She was a very proper person, always have certain table sets for certain occasions. Right as the kids started getting their plates the doorbell rang, "Oh, honey!" your mother spoke as you were helping your niece/nephew get a plate of food. "Can you answer the door, I invited some friends over as well." your mother explained as she took the kids plate from you.

"Sure." you smiled softly as you made your way through the crowd of family and towards the front door. You pulled the door open, doing a double take as you opened the door. Your eyes widened as you felt your jaw drop and tears come to your eyes. "Oh, My." You started at a loss for words.

"As much as I would love to let you gawk at me, it's cold." Tee mumbled as he gently walked you backwards so him and his mother could enter your family's house. "Merry Christmas baby." he mumbled as he wrapped his arms around you and gave you a squeeze.

"You're here." You spoke in disbelief that your boyfriend had somehow pulled off bringing him mom to Ohio and surprising you. Your arms wrapped around him so fast once your shock wore off. "This is the best gift ever." You whispered to yourself as you refused to let him go for a moment.

"Your momma invited me." Tee's mother spoke up as you turned to face her. You gave her a warm smile before greeting her and moving away from Tee to give her a quick hug. "I figured you'd want my son on this holiday." she finished with a smile before walking towards the kitchen to go meet your mother and the rest of your family.

Nothing could wipe the grin from your face as you stayed in front of your long-term boyfriend. "I cannot believe that you did this." You spoke in honesty. Usually, Tee sucked at surprising you. So that was the main reason you were shocked.

"It was all your momma." Tee shrugged as he slung an arm over your shoulder and led you to the kitchen where the food was waiting for you two.

Dinner was great, with everyone getting to know Tee's mother and getting to know your boyfriend better. He got to bond even more with your nieces and nephews, which they loved to have another person interested in what they liked. After eating, you helped your mother clean the kitchen and do the dishes. During this time, you made sure that she knew how thankful you were for her inviting Tee and his mother, also the fact that you hoped she understood how much it truly meant to you.

Your family loved Tee and you thought and hoped that his family loved you as well. Because you would do anything for that boy, even up and moving if something happened and he did not stay in Cincinatti. After helping the house get cleaned and calming the kids down, it was time for presents.

"I'm sorry that I left yours at our home." You told him full of remorse, you hated that Tee didn't have your gift for him to open right now. "I thought you were in Tennessee, and I didn't want to see it under the tree, so..." you trailed off so he would know how sorry you were and the reason why you did not bring the gift with you.

"It's fine." Tee shrugged it off before placing a kiss on your forehead and helping your mother hand out the presents that was under the tree. The kids had more than everyone else, but it was always how your mother had done Christmas. "Here babe." he got your attention and handed you two presents, which you sat down knowing that they were from your family.

Your mother ended up handing Tee's mother three presents just for her and three for Tee. It was common for your mom to buy everyone joining three gifts a piece and then give the kids at least five a piece. It was how your family had always done Christmas and it was a tradition that they wouldn't change unless they absolutely had too.

It didn't take the kids long to tear into their presents and start playing with whatever they had gotten. The rest of your family was exchanging thanks, your mother and Tee's conversing over who knows what, and just overall having a good night. It was just the way you thought it should be. Of course, some of Tee's family was missing but it was as perfect as it could be.

"What's this?" You questioned when Tee handed you a small wrapped box. You looked at him, not knowing if you should open it or not. Simply because you had forgotten his gift.

"Part of your gift." Tee shrugged as he kept a smile on his face. "Open it." he urged.

You hesitated for a moment before carefully opening the wrapping paper and then opening the box. The box contained an ornament that read, "Tee and Y/N, engaged 12-24-23" Your eyes widen a bit at the ring in a box ornament and looked up from the box to notice Tee on one knee in front of you. All the eyes of your family were on the two of you.

"Y/N, since I have known you, I have known that you were a special piece of me. You complete me and I hope that you will agree to marry me. I love you so much and there is no one else that I would rather have by my side. No matter where the coming minutes, days, months, years, and football seasons take me. I know that you'll be a constant in my life. Will you please do me the honor of marrying me and becoming Mrs. Higgins?"

"Yes, of course." You whispered as you started nodding your head because of the tears that spilled down your cheeks. Tee slipped the beautiful ring on your finger before standing up and pulling you into a hug. "I love you so much, I cannot wait to spend forever with you."

It was safe to say that this year's Christmas was full of surprises and you were ending the year the happiest you have ever been.

[thecrystalquill]

A/N: Chapter Fourteen! How exciting! What do you think to the mood board? More Addams shenanigans in upcoming parts!!!

Don’t forget to like when you’re done!

Masterlist Series Masterlist Introduction Your First Year Letter

Chapter Fourteen ~ The Book

The carriages were lined up in their dozens, loaded with passengers and their luggage. Some had already started their route down the snowy road that lead from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade Station, walking themselves effortlessly down the hill.

(Y/N) had spent the morning watching her roommates pack whatever they intended to bring home for the holidays, and occasionally pointing out a missing object. Millicent had spent the last twenty minutes trying to wrestle Mouse into her carrier, with Saoirse’s help they managed it on the fifth attempt.

“Are you sure about staying?” Bridgit asked as she checked the buckles on her trunk, where it sat securely on the back of the carriage.

“I appreciate the concern, but I’m perfectly fine here.” (Y/N) replied with a blank stare as she rubbed away a rogue snowflake that dared touch her nose. “My parents will be staying at the Hog’s Head tomorrow, anyway.”

A few more carriages rolled away as the girls began to step into their own, eager to shut in some warmth but wanting to talk with her for a while longer. The grounds keeper was making his rounds somewhere a short distance away, making sure everyone was ready and hurrying them along to the station; it wasn’t long before the train was due to leave.

“Won’t you be lonely?” Millicent asked from under her two scarves. “You’ll be here all alone.”

Controlling the subconscious act of rolling one’s eyes was quite the challenge, but (Y/N) managed a slow blink instead. Why would these girls even care about any of that? “I’m not alone, I’m by myself. Which is how I enjoy it - I’ll finally have some complete solitude.”

The last of the carriages were beginning to leave and the half-giant was calling for them to say their goodbyes, when (before (Y/N) could do anything about it) Saoirse launched herself at the startled young Addams, wrapping her arms around her neck in an embrace that was stiffly received. “Have a nice Christmas, (Y/N), I left Jinx a lolly for the big day.” She said, then pulled back and got into the carriage before there was room to complain. “See ya next year!” Saoirse exclaimed with a grin, which only doubled when (Y/N) finally rolled her eyes (with tenfold the usual amount of exasperation).

(Y/N) observed as the cart pulled away with her roommates waving through the window, watching as they joined the others that walked the path to Hogsmeade, an ant trail of black dots marching in the white snow.

Grey clouds had formed over Hogwarts that morning, promising more snow to come than the few that flitted down at the moment, and (Y/N) decided to re-enter the castle for a late breakfast before a storm decided to slow her down.

When she seated herself at the Slytherin table, along with a handful of older students, (Y/N) played a couple of crumpets smothered in butter and let her eyes wander as she ate. For the first time in quite a while, (Y/N) was sitting alone in the Great Hall. Let’s not go as far as to say that she missed having company at all (because wouldn’t that be just ridiculous?), but there were no conversations to be listening to, no opinions to be shared, and not even anything to roll her eyes at. But for the next meal, she made note to perhaps bring a book with her.

There were a few faces around the hall that she vaguely recognised, and many more that she didn’t; what she did notice is that most of them seemed to be perfectly solemn. And with that, it was hard to miss the joyful faces sitting at the Gryffindor table. (Y/N) wasn’t sure she’d ever seen Harry smile quite so much, but he certainly seemed far from as miserable as everyone else staying at school for the holidays. Ron was sat beside him, talking away with expressive hands, one holding a buttery bacon sandwich. She had decided a while ago that she ought not be bitter about those boys any longer, that she needed to let go of that months-old hurt; it was only then that she felt that she truly had. (Y/N) had new friends - better friends - who accepted her as she was and didn’t judge her for her differences l. She was glad, and glad for them too. All that mattered now was that she would see her family tomorrow, and find whatever she was asked to uncover, and everything would go back to how it should be.

It was three in the afternoon when (Y/N) finally made it to the library; dinner would be served at half-past five, and curfew was at nine; that left her an estimated five hours to find what she had been looking for.

Madame Pince was nowhere in sight as (Y/N) walked straight to her usual spot near the back of the library, counting the rows in the Divination section. When she reached the fifth row of shelves, she dropped her bag on the floor to begin her search with newfound determination. During her last visit she had made it to the first row of M’s, so now she only had one letter left. The only problem was yet again just how many there were.

The library shelves were enormous, each one as long as the giant squid and as tall as nearly the height of the room. Checking the name and title of every book starting from two thirds up the ladder took her over two hours, and by the time the M’s finished, the last shelf had ran out and (Y/N) had to cope with the fact that she’d wasted so much time climbing up the wrong side of the shelves.

When she finally ascended the ladder (on the right row, this time), (Y/N) had to squint her eyes slightly to read the titles. It was so dark and shadowed in the Divination section already, but now she was in a high corner at the back of the room and there was hardly a stream of light to make the books visible. Winter clouds had darkened the sky and snow blocked out any early-evening sun, and the candles and torches that usually lit the library simply didn’t reach her. It was all terribly inconvenient.

Again, for much longer than she would have liked, (Y/N) scanned the titles on the shelf; Basics of Narcomancy by Natalia Manteia, The Divine Nature of Dreams by Horus Duermus, Secrets of the Subconscious by Selestia Soothe; but they weren’t what she was looking for. “Necromancy, come on… it must be somewhere…” she muttered to herself, feeling almost frenzied with frustration and desperation, but she simply couldn’t give up when she felt so close.

Forget Narcomancy - where the Styx was Necromancy?

Using her hands to pull her body along, she rolled the ladder further to the right, brushing aside cobwebs and blowing away dust. She thought the library was always so clean and taken care of, but Merlin did Pince not care to dust this high up. But who could blame her, really? Who ever came to collect from all the way up the highest shelves, in the Divination section no less?

Nyphomancy, Necyomancy, but still no Necromancy. Again, she pulled herself along further to the right, and took a deep breath through the nose to collect herself. “This is all so stupid…” she mumbled in her frustration, feeling a tingle in her nose. She wiped away more cobwebs to read another title, disturbing the long-settled dust into the air and her nose tingled again.

Oh no.

Oh dear.

Holding her nose, (Y/N) quickly rolled further along with the ladder in hopes of breathing some clearer air, but only seemed to make things worse as more dust was blown about her. It was too late - there was nothing more she could do.

The tingle grew and (Y/N) pulled her arm up to muffle the noise as her head jolted backwards with the sneeze, not realising her fatal mistake as her balance was thrown off. She reached both arms forward quickly, grabbing onto the stable wood of the shelf tightly, until she was sure she wouldn’t fall.

By now, she was almost completely in the corner, just a couple of feet away from the wall. She read the titles in front of her. Natimancy, Nephomancy, Necromancy!

There, just slightly to her right, was exactly the book she needed. (Y/N) grabbed at it with a sense of pride, brushing off cobwebs and leaving a clearing in the dust in front of it. Finally, in her hands, was a little hope.

The book was a good size, a heavy hardback with a black cover and simple silver lettering. Necromancy - printed in bold just higher than the centre, by Morbius E. Shelly.

(Y/N) had never climbed down a ladder so quickly. The second her feet touched the floor she was sitting with her back to the ridiculously tall shelves, not soaring a single thought to the cold of the hardwood floor on her behind. With bated breath, she sat the book on her knees and turned back over.

“Miss Addams, is that you?”

(Y/N) almost leapt out of her skin at the skins of the librarian’s voice from the other end of the row - and that was really quite the feat, for I wasn’t often that someone could sneak up on her.

Thinking fast, (Y/N) removed her coat and hid the book in its thick black fabric, not wishing to be caught reading about such an unsavoury topic in a dark part of the library. Hades knows that’s all her reputation needed.

She stood with it hidden well in her arms, still half-saved by the shadows as the librarian and she added her scarf to the pile in her arms. “Yes, Madam Pince, it’s me.” She answered with a stiffness that almost would have given her away.

“Lunch is starting, go and join the others,” Pince said with a gesture of her arms, “off you go. Do you have a book to check out?”

(Y/N) decided to taker her chance while the shadows were working in her favour, to slide past with her things pulled to her side. “N, not today, thank you.” She answered politely, then hurried to fetch her bag and take her leave before Pince could get a good look in the light.

Sitting through lunch with her bag at her side was absolute torture. The food was as good as usual, Dumbkrdore made a little speech before they ate, and there was chatter all about; but (Y/N) could only think about how long she would have to wait before she could go back to her dorm and open the book that felt like the key to solving her problems.

She picked at her food distractedly as the presence of the book looked over her like a thrillingly life-draining dark energy; it was ever so difficult to act as if she had nothing better to be doing. Snow fell from the enchanted ceiling, mirroring the storm that grew outside, and giving the warm room a sense of cold winter, and (Y/N) decided to direct her focus to that. If only she had time for a stroll.

When she had finished her meal and a few people began to leave, (Y/N) snatched up her satchel and made her way through the castle towards her common room. She passed maybe a handful of students on her way to the frosty Dungeons, nodding to a couple of nosy portraits as she went, before she finally came to the entrance and recited the password. “Dulce Venenum.”

The Slytherin common room was entirely empty, and as far as she was aware, she was the only occupant - much to her appreciation. The fire was burning hot enough to ward off the comforting chill, and she wondered if she could ask Snape if there was something that could be done about that - and if he didn’t prove to be of any use, the. She’d have to ask someone with a little more competence, like McGonnagal.

The dark leather sofas were finally free, and it was her first opportunity to sit in them; they were springier than she’d imagined. With the book placed cautiously on the table, as if it would explode with some terrible curse if it was mistreated at all, (Y/N) gathered herself up to open it. She had built up this moment in her head so much, that she felt it needed the right respect to savour it.

She studied its sleek appearance as it stared back up at her, tapping the heap of her black Mary-Jane and fiddling with the black lace on the hem of her sleeves as she prepared herself. With great care, (Y/N) reached out and lifted the heavy cover.

A note from Morbius E. Shelly ~

The topics presented in this book are of a restricted nature, therefore, the information pertaining to these practices are intended for strictly educational purposes only. The British Ministry of Magic has approved any and all information disclosed. Readers are warned that the majority of these rituals and practices are considered taboo at the very least, and crimes of immoral nature at most. It is advised that these are not to be performed unless by professionals with express permission from the Ministry of Magic. The author takes no responsibility beyond this point. Read with care.

Well, things were certainly off to an interesting start.

An hour had passed before she knew it and the grand clock above the fireplace rang out to inform her that it was already ten o’clock, and that she ought to be in bed if she wanted to make it to Hogsmeade in time. She looked at the wriggling silver snakes pointing their heads to the time for only a moment, before she dove right back into the book. If she hadn’t felt there was a clue to her Message hidden in these pages, (Y/N) could still have certainly been reading it with just as much interest.

She was also fairly sure that this book had originally belonged to the Restricted Section.

Though her ambitions were strong, her eyes were heavy, and (Y/N) was disappointed to have to admit defeat for the night. Sinking back against the plump sofa, she let her eyes rest from hours of focus, drifting off into thoughts of the next day. What presents did her parents get her? Did Grandmama bring any home-bakes? Would Wednesday make time for a good duel?

Before she could fall asleep, (Y/N) yawned and stretched, and stood up to head to bed. A draft blew through the room and rustled the pages as she went to collect the book. How much more did she have to read through? Finding her place again, she flicked through the chapters to see what topics awaited her; dead-raising; scrying; possessions; crystal balls. Chapter Twenty-Two caught her eye: Séances. A practical yet unpredictable ritual of dead-communication, simple and versatile. The chapter began with a beautiful line-sketch of a tastefully nude coven performing the ritual and calling forth a ghastly spirit from a supernatural smoke at the centre - and if that hadn’t caught her eye, then the folded browning piece of parchment tucked into the pages certainly had.

In that moment, (Y/N) was aware of nothing but the note - taking it in her hands, not daring ti open it so quickly; if she opened it to find nothing there, there would be no words in her vocabulary ti express her frustration and disappointment.

It was old - flat and faded enough for her ti be sure that it had been hidden in that book for a very long time. Delicately, (Y/N) unfolded it and unfolded it again, until she was revealed to the brown ink of handwriting not exposed to the world in a very long time - longer, surely, than she had been alive. It was not neat, but a strange swirling italic - the handwriting of someone who had to try very hard to make their writing look tidy and legible, with little wobbles when their fingers shook. She’d expected it ti contain a message that would rid her of her burden and set everything into place, but was only let down once more, and left with no more than frustration and confusion.

It is hidden where you may not venture.

(Y/N) may have assumed that she’d gotten it all wrong - that this was an elaborate prank to play on the Addams-girl, or that this was left for someone else - if it weren’t for the obvious age if the parchment, and the Addams crest stamped at the bottom, waiting only for her to recognise it.

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[kumezyzo]

more streamer!reader with bf!sapnap cause i so desperately need it and i promised to get out the christmas cooking stream...

i started writing this like two weeks ago and im just now getting it out cause im so good at procrastinating 😁 but its also kinda short mb

anyway, enjoy! or dont :) m.list

bf!sapnap that doesnt really listen to you when you tell him hes not doing something right. he will just look at you and forget that you scolded him in the first place.

"nick, you realize you cant put a metal bowl in a microwave, right?"

"huh?" he looks over at you. your face holding a concerned expression as you look at the bowl in his hands. hes silently just thinking about how you called him nick instead of sapnap.

"wait, HOW did you say microwave?"

bf!sapnap that has to remind people at the beginning of the stream that it was your one year anniversary last month. and your one year of being official meeting in person the past week.

bsf!george who randomly starts playful arguements with you. or even just teases you when you and nick are standing near eachother.

"wow, are you two gonna get married now?"

"i dunno, george. are you and dream gonna fuck soon?" you ask pointedly without looking up from the cookie your helping nick cut out. "or profess your undying love to eachother?"

bf!sapnap who would get really angry or sad if your embroidered gingerbread character on his apron got dirty.

"dream!! you got flour on yn!!" he would scream running to the sink to try to wash it off. you would be standing across the room, looking down at yourself in confusion

"your such an idot, sapnap," dream would tell him, shaking his head and laughing.

"oh...i thought you actually meant on me-"

and

"who the fuck got frosting on yn!?" he would scream again, stomping over to the sink to wash it off.

"baby, its orange..." you tell him, glancing at george and dream from across the island, trying to hide your smile.

"and?"

"youre the only one using orange..."

bf!sapnap who feels bad when you start running around, trying to clean up the mess they made from decorating the cookies.

"yn, just leave it."

"no, its fine," you tell him with a smile. "i need a clean working space."

"but-"

"nick, let me clean."

dream kinda helps dw

bsf!dream who accidentally bumps into you, causing you to turn around and pretend to square up to him.

"come at me bro!" you say, looking up at him and standing in front of him.

he looks down at you and puffs out his chest and flexes his arms. you do the same and squint your eyes up at him.

"what? got nothin to say?!"

he then lightly pushes your shoulder and you dramatically stumble backwards. you place your hand on your 'wounded' shoulder and look at him in betrayal.

"h-how could you...?"

"you guys are so stupid-"

bf!sapnap who holds your waist when hes has to get past you. or just reaches out to touch your hip if there is space to walk by. or lightly pats your ass when he walks away from standing next to you.

"chat is saying sapnap slapped yn's bum," george says in disgust covered by an accusatory lilt.

"i dont know what theyre talking about," nick says, a smile slowly spreading on his lips.

"wait, chat, is that true?"

"i bet he did," dream comments, ammused.

"wait they're saying he did!"

bf!sapnap who says the gingerbread house he's making is what you two are gonna raise your kids in.

"peaches, this is our house."

"our? as in you and i?" you ask looking at the mess of cookies and frosting.

"and these are our kids..." he says concentrating on putting two m&ms on the front lawn of the sugary house.

"wait, kids-"

chat! who asks about why nick calls you peaches.

"yeah, thats an amazing questions, actually," george says, looking up at you two.

the two of you glance at eachother before looking back down at your gingerbread houses.

"wait, what was that look?" dream asks with a laugh.

"i dunno. nick, you tell them," you say trying to keep your face neutral. "im not the one that came up with it."

"wait, nick, dont you also call her mamas?"

"dream, shut the-"

bf!sapnap who hugs you from behind when he sees how sleep youre starting to get.

"are you tired, ma?" he whispers in your ear.

"no... im good," you say, smiling with drowsy eyes.

he kisses the side of your head and gives your hip a little tap before moving to stand with dream.

i actually kinda like this one. i mightve made reader too much like me so im sorry... yea idk i like it so... yeaa...... comment, like, reblog idfk -Nony