#i was on my knees brother it was bothering me SO MUCH

[angelasscribbles]

Changes: A ONiC One-Shot

Series: One Night in Cordonia, a @choicesprompts Round Robin Event.

Fandom: TRR mostly

CRACKSHIP ALERT: Drake x Bertrand

Word Count: 1,593

Rating: NSFW

Warnings: Lemons 🍋🍋🍋

A/N: This pairing was initiated by @harleybeaumont during the round robin event titled One Night in Cordonia. I cannot remember who requested it or if it's something @harleybeaumont and I thought up during one of our epic late night discussions. Either way, it somehow got brought up today and I went to send her the little bit of it that has been sitting in my WiP folder forever, but once I opened the Word doc, I decided to add a few quick details and then just kept going until it was finished. 🙃

This was not the writing project I had intended to work on today, but I don't get to choose where the inspiration strikes.

It's pure smut. Just so you know.

The rest of my stuff can be found here.

Bertrand stood in the Beaumont study, surveying the damage and contemplating the last several weeks.

The terrorist group responsible for the attack had been rounded up, and the authorities had finally left. He was happy to reclaim his study from Bastien. They had left the room in disarray, and he set about tidying it up.

He was kneeling on the floor, examining a discolored spot on the carpet and muttering about the King's Guard's complete lack of decorum with the door to the study opened. Whoever it was hadn't even bothered to knock.

Bertrand leapt to his feet with indignation, "This is a private room! Have you no manners?"

An amused voice answered him. "No need to get up on my account."

Bertrand paled and took a step back as Drake ambled into the room like he owned the place. Shutting the door behind him, he ignored Bertrand's outburst about manners and smirked at him. "I like the way you look on your knees."

"I…don't know what you're trying to imply—"

"What?" Amusement danced across his face as he took in the other man's discomfort. "Have you forgotten the last time you were on your knees in front of me?"

The lord of Ramsford flushed from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Burning with shame and, distressingly, desire, he stuttered out an answer. "I…. Of course not! I mean…. That's not what I—"

Drake took a step toward him with a smirk. "You were really good at it."

"I…that…." Bertrand took another step back, bumping into a bookshelf and sending a miniature statue of a horse crashing to the ground.

Drake continued his advance until he stood directly in front of the duke, blocking any chance of a dignified retreat. "Why are you so nervous?"

"I'm not!" Bertrand gulped loudly, belying his statement.

"No?" The bigger man shifted his weight slightly as he rested a hand on either side of his intended target.

Bertrand's eyes widened as shock, fear, and undeniable excitement flooded through him. He didn't trust his voice, so he simply shook his head.

A soft scoff issued from Drake as his eyes traced his face, settling on the set of lips that had brought him so much pleasure just a few weeks before.

He hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it.

It was true that they had both been under the influence of some type of chemical that removed sexual inhibitions, but the fact remained that those impulses had to exist in the first place in order to be inhibited.

His disdain for Max's older brother had always masked a deeper emotion. Sexual attraction to other men wasn't new to him, but the realization that he had always been drawn to this particular man was.

"Tell me you don't want this." Drake's hand caressed Bertrand's cheek. "If you don't want me to kiss you right now, tell me to stop." He paused, giving the other man plenty of time to protest.

For a heartbeat, they stood frozen in time, face to face, staring into each other's eyes. Then Bertrand went weak in the knees as his eyes fluttered shut and his head tipped slightly up, lips parted, inviting the kiss.  

Drake's lips crashed into his and he was falling, tumbling into a vast unknown, terror and exhilaration colliding inside him.

Bertrand Beaumont had never been good with women. He didn't understand what they wanted, he didn't understand how to attract them. He had never felt much of a pull to them at all. But this. This was different.

He had kissed a handful of women in his time. Their lips had been soft and yielding and the entire experience had been somehow wrong and off putting. His previous experiences with kissing had been nothing like this. This kiss was rough and demanding, the stubble that scratched his face sent red hot flames licking through him. His hands reached out to grasp not soft flesh, but hard muscles. He whimpered helplessly as his body reacted. His rock hard erection was evident as Drake's body pushed into his.

He wanted to die of shame until he realized that Drake was having the exact same reaction. Their cocks pressed against each other through the fabric of their pants as their hips ground against each other.

Bertrand had never felt another man's cock pressed against his own before, much less while it was hard. The thought that Drake was hard because of him was almost more than he could bear. Desire burned all the embarrassment out of him as he begged for more. "Please… I need—"

Before he could finish the thought, strong hands spun him around and jerked him sidewise away from the bookshelf, and pressed him against the wall. His pants were yanked down his body, leaving his ass bare and his dick throbbing. A foot forced his legs apart as a finger found his puckered hole. His mind was so clouded with lust that he barely registered some sort of lube being applied before a finger probed inside him. Warm breath tickled his ear as a voice rough with desire whispered in his ear. "How does that feel?"

"So good…" he gasped out as an ecstasy he had never imagined washed over him.

A soft kiss landed on the back of his neck. "I'm going to fuck you now. Hold still."

Bertrand's eyes squeezed shut as his body vibrated with pleasure and anticipation. "Yes…. Please…."

A feral growl broke free from Drake's throat at the pleading tone of the man trembling under his touch. It was all he could do to keep himself from slamming into him. Instead, he inserted himself slowly and gently, sliding in an inch at a time, giving the other man a chance to adjust.

A cry of ecstasy was torn from him as Drake hit the prostate.

His name falling from Bertrand's lips was the end of his restraint. No longer gentle, he moved his body at a more desperate pace, pulling himself out and shoving back into the man who was now writhing frantically beneath him.

Bertrand's feet tried to come out from under him as all the strength left his body. Blackness clouded the edges of his vision as the pleasure became all encompassing. A hand closed around his cock and stars exploded across his field of vision as the orgasm overtook him.

Drake slammed into him one last time with a roar, pinning his body to the wall as he emptied himself into him. He kept his body pressed into him until his cock finished pulsing.

When he finally stepped away, Bertrand was left with his pants in an undignified tangle around his ankles, a pleasurable soreness and the proof of what had just transpired leaking out of him. He turned to face the man who had just taken his innocence and awakened desires in him that he had not known he possessed, tripping over his tangled pants as he did so.

"Whoa there!" Drake caught him and then stepped back with a satisfied smirk as he fastened his own pants.

Hyperaware of Drake's eyes on him, he scrambled to redress himself, ignoring the sticky mess on his backside. Not knowing what to say, his eyes dropped to the floor as both mortification and gratification pinged through him at what had just transpired.

"Hey." Drake's finger found his chin and lifted his head. With a smile more tender than he had ever seen on his face, he told him, "You did great."

The mortification drained out of him, pride and happiness taking its place. "Really?"

"Really." He looked closer at Bertrand's expression. "Wait. Was that your first time with a man?"

Bertrand's eyes fell once again to the floor. "My first time….with anyone." Kissing women had been bad enough, he had never been able to push himself further with any of them.

Drake's eyes widened in surprise. "I'm sorry. I didn't know—"

"What?" Bertrand's head snapped up in alarm at the regret in Drake's voice. "Don't be sorry! That was…. It was… you were…. I mean…"

The smile returned to Drake's face as understanding dawned on him. "It's okay. You don't have to say anything else. I'm glad you liked it."

The alarm on Bertrand's phone went off, bringing him back to reality. "Apologies. I'm needed at a budgetary meeting soon."

"No problem. I have shit to do, too. See you around."

Panic sliced through him as he watched Drake make it to the door. "Wait!"

Drake paused and turned around. "Yeah?"

Bertrand fought against the tidal wave of insecurity and anxiety that threatened to silence him. For once in his life, he was going to ask for what he wanted. "Is there any chance we could… um…. " He faltered as embarrassment threatened to pull him under.

A grin pulled Drake's lips up as he watched Bertrand stumble over his words. He decided to put him out of his misery. "Are you asking if we can do this again?"

"Yeah." If he said no, Bertrand was going to drop right through the floor.

"You can count on it." Drake thumped the edge of the door frame on his way out, humming happily as he strolled down the hall.

Bertrand slumped against the wall as relief and disbelief surged through him.

He had no idea what this all meant. No idea what tomorrow would bring. There was only one thing that he knew for certain.

Everything was going to be different now.

[birbsong]

I FOUND IT??!

[whorelaud]

꒦꒷ 𓈒 𓈒 𓈒 hushed fantasies ¡

pairing brother's best friend¡nicholas chavez x fem¡reader

summary thinking you were messaging your friend, you accidentally sent your brother's best friend a thirsty paragraph about him, with Nicholas opening it before you get a chance to delete it. what you were not expecting was the leading conversation, causing realization to wash over you as he hints your desire is not one-sided after all.

contains suggestive, sexual tension, a bit of dirty talking, a brief kiss, flustered reader, cocky nic, hes also very freaky (uhh???)

a/n this is the silliest thing ive ever written i was giggling the whole time while writing it. likes and reblogs are v much appreciated!!!

word count 1.7k

You: the amount of self control i have is insane because why do i not have this mans dick in my mouth rn please i need nic so fucking bad its not even funny anymore he is everything i want in life id let him use me any day morning afternoon n night im available ugh i dont even get the ick when its him he was acting like a dad earlier yelling at us to grill the meat right and it was so adorable ill call you daddy u want me to call u sir i dont kink shame im down for whatever king omg stop he got hurt earlier and he GROANED???? i almost fell to my knees YAHOOO he definitely whimpers #needthat 10/10 i just know its thick ooh tip pink shade #d97e77 thats insane till my knees are bruised and my throats scratched my panties fell tears are rolling down my thighs OMG PLS can you feel my pain hes so bodangshis how does my brother look at him and not wanna fuck him id be all over him if that was my friend gahhhd!!! hes actually so sweet he kept speaking to me earlier so i dont feel left out of the conversation and i find that adorable do u think he slaps it before he cums oh my his girlfriends so lucky im ab to put her in a headlock ahaha this is gross no man should have this much of an impact on u unless their dick is big and the sex is absolutely amazing yooo what he probably knows how to please a lady id be hard if i had a dick rn STOPP he has a happy trail im gonna lose it hahah lets find out where it leads i dont wanna think ab that im going crazy literally pulling my hair out that should be u baby GIVE ME A CHANCE?!!!! thinking ab him makes me so nervous this is getting a little too srs ahaha okay im sorry hows life?!? i miss u :(

Sending that message, you were anything but expecting the response you got in return, not from the man himself, that’s for sure.

nic: oh?

nic: i think you got the wrong person

You audibly gasp, realization washing over you as you read over the message. That was, in fact, not for Nicholas, nor was it for anyone but your friend to see.

You panic, putting your phone down to process what happened, needing a moment before responding. Right, you needed to do that.

But why did he see it so fast? He didn't even give you time to comprehend your message, the text switching to read in an instant.

Hell, it was midnight, and it’s been a long, tiring day for the both of you, having been out the whole afternoon, merely to come back to the hotel and spend more time with your other friends.

Everyone decided to end the night off early; early being a bit before midnight, with you heading to your room afterwards. Your brother and his best friend shared the room taking place next to yours, making it easy to reach out to him.

And for that, you were grateful since Nicholas was with him; meaning you got to see more of him throughout this trip.

You’ve had a crush on Nicholas for god knows how long, with it starting the moment your brother befriended him. You’ve technically gone through all the phases he experienced, hell, you saw him more than your own parents.

He was sweet, a little too sweet, perhaps it bothered you. Nicholas was very known among women, he knew how to attract a lady, showering her with praises until he eventually got what he wanted.

That made you extremely jealous, knowing you couldn't have him. He was forbidden, off-limits, someone you could only admire from afar.

And that stupid crush of yours led to this conversation, one you didn't want to discuss.

You: i didnt mean to send that to you

The text switched from delivered to read right away, causing your breath to catch in your throat.

nic: clearly

nic: i dont have a gf btw

Why did he feel the need to clarify that, and why were you relieved over hearing it?

You buried your face in your pillow, feeling heat reduce from your body. You’ve never been this embarrassed before, not around Nicholas. While you were weird sometimes, it was never this bad.

He wasn't supposed to know about this, nor discover it the way he did.

You: cover your eyes pls

You: this wasn't for u

nic: you sure?

nic: are there any other nics in your life?

Your stomach twisted at the message, hand coming up to cover your mouth as an audible gasp escaped your throat. How could he say that?

You felt all sorts of emotions wash over you, unable to process each one of them as you read the message over and over again.

You: what if there is

The question was risky, it could either end with him telling your brother, or him teasing you over it and brushing it off. Either way, you couldn't have him, so why not just fuck it and go with the flow?

nic: then that would be disappointing.

Your breath caught in your throat, vision going blurry as Nicholas’ bubble kept appearing and disappearing.

nic: id really hate that you feel this way about someone else

Oh my god, were you dreaming?

You could not believe your eyes. You turned off your phone, letting the dimness of the room seep through for a moment before you unlocked your device once again, heart skipping a beat when you realized it was real.

Nicholas, your brother’s best friend, might have been flirting with you, but that’s just in your head, right…?

You: ??? wdym

nic: you first

nic: was this about me, doll?

The pet name made you weak to your core, spiraling you over the edge as you put your phone down for a second. You took a deep breath, feeling your face heat up at how suggestive the boy sounded.

He sounded so desperate, you weren't sure if it was the tiredness, or him being genuine. Either way, you’re fucked, because you’re willing to do anything for him, even if it means breaking your heart.

You: what if it was

You: what will you do ab it

You felt nauseous as you waited for a response, groaning when the boy disappeared for a minute. Did you say something wrong? Why did he suddenly leave?

nic: then id risk it all

Speechless. Your mouth hung open, chest filling with lust as a breath heaved out of you.

You: are you saying this because you’re tired

nic: no

nic: god no

There was no ounce of self control in your body left. You almost screamed, overwhelmed by a new sense of emotions.

Is this how it felt? Because fucking hell.

You: it is

nic: it is what?

You: this is so embarrassing

You: why are you making me admit it you know exactly what im talking about

nic: baby

nic: jus tell me

You: no you suck im going to sleep

nic: WAIT no come here youre so cute

You blushed at the message, unable to suppress the smile forming on your lips. God, he’s such an idiot. And you were totally swooned for him.

You: i literally just sent you a message talking ab how much i wanna suck your dick what about that is cute

nic: oh? so you do admit it

You: …

You felt nervous, realizing how serious this has gotten. From a silly message turned into you contemplating whether this was a good idea. The last thing you were anticipating while typing that message was a confrontation, one from Nicholas; at that.

nic: you couldve told me yk

You: do you hear yourself

nic: ? what

You: nic you know this is wrong

You: youre gonna wake up tmr and forget all ab it

nic: you knkw

nic: yoirw so fucjinf hot

You came to a halt, noticing the amount of mistakes the boy was making. Your mind wandered somewhere else, feeling heat crawl past your neck, all the way to your face.

You: what are you saying

nic: fucking hell

nic: take the hint baby

You froze in your spot, tongue coming out to wet your lips, suddenly feeling heat travel to in between your legs. Don’t give in, don't give in, don’t give in.

You: what

nic: you couldve asked me if you were curious

nic: i wouldve happily showed you

That sent you over the edge. Your mind went fuzzy, unable to process the last few texts you received from Nicholas. He was being serious, dead serious, you were sure of that.

The texts you exchanged always revolved around your brother; usually Nicholas asking whether he was home or not. However, this one was different.

He was hinting something, something very risky that you were unable to resist.

You: dont say that

nic: what, you don't believe me?

You: nic

nic: give me five

You stared at the message on the screen, confused on what he meant. Your eyebrows furrowed with puzzlement, awaiting a message, merely to get nothing in return.

As you were about to shut your phone and go to sleep, it pinged, the notification startling you awake. You clicked on it immediately, mind going hazy as you read the message over and over again.

nic: open the door

nic: im outside your room

You didn’t hesitate as you got up, swiftly walking your way to the door. You unlocked it with haste, vision going blurry as you caught sight of Nicholas, who was standing inches away from you now.

He looked just as desperate as you were, maybe even more. And that was it, it was all you needed to pull him by the collar and cease the distance between you two.

The moment his lips collided with yours, you realized that maybe it’s worth ending up with a broken heart, because Nicholas tastes fucking addicting, and you found every way to make good use out of that obsession.

The possession of knowing he’s off limits, yet here he was, eagerly kissing you numb.

[livinginshambles]

No, you listen to me | James Potter

Pairing: James Potter x Slytherin!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: Aftermath of when you ran away from the Yule ball, cinderella style. after the Christmas holidays, both of you return to hogwarts with different objectives. James tries to find out who you are. You try to make sure he never will.

Notes: Not proofread. Mistakes. Once again because people keep forgetting, english is my third language, be kind. Themes of bullying, discrimination, very bad sister relationships. Regulus is like a BROTHER. James tries?

Masterlist Part one. Part three

_________________________

Your eyes scanned across the parchment, rereading James’ apology, but all you could really feel was disappointment and anger. What was even the point of trying to prove anyone wrong? You leaned back against the cushions of the armchair and pulled your knees up, wrapping your arms around them to steadily lock them in place. Then you let your head drop.

You pressed your watering eyes into your knee, effectively letting your pajama pants soak up any tears that threatened to fall. You gently rocked yourself back and forth while you tried to clear your mind. You wouldn’t let any of this get to you.

A hand pressed itself to your back, right between your shoulder blades. “Let’s get you out of here,” Regulus spoke up. His tone was hard, but only because of his clenched jaw when he thought back to how you had run off with a betrayed look. The second he realized it was James who was the mystery guy, he had kept a close eye. He knew things wouldn’t end well with those prejudiced twats, and he was right.

You pathetically looked up at him, and Regulus didn’t bother to hide his grimace at the sight of your face.

“Don’t exaggerate you arse,” you mumbled and shoved him light-heartedly.

“Back at you,” Regulus shot back. Then he sighed and motioned for you to scootch over so he could squeeze himself to fit in the armchair with you. “I know you. And I know you know what my brother and his friends are like. Why are you so disappointed?”

You stared at the lit fireplace, lost in thoughts, and eventually shrugged when Regulus nudged you out of your train of thoughts.

“I guess- I really liked the guy on the other side of the paper. And I really hoped that maybe he’d be in there somewhere. And I suppose that for a moment I actually thought James Potter was alright, you know?”

Regulus scrunched his nose in distaste. “Not at all, but go on.”

You shook your head in amusement at him, but let your eyes soften. “I’m sorry Reg,” you whispered.

“What for?”

“Making you listen to me whining about a guy that I know you have personal issues with.” You decided not to mention out loud the fact that those personal issues included the way Sirius had left Regulus behind in that household, escaping to live with the Potters and going as far as publicly calling James his true brother. Found family, he had proudly said.

Regulus knew what you were referring to. He smiled bitterly. “Well, brothers are overrated anyways. I’d much rather have a sister,” he said while nudging you again.

You hummed in contemplation. “I don’t know Reg; I’ll have to disagree with you on this one. I’d much rather have a brother than any number of sisters.”

“How convenient for us.”

“Very convenient indeed,” you smiled happily.

Regulus got up suddenly and turned to you with a stretched out hand. You raised an eyebrow at him.

“I meant what I said, you know. Let’s get you out of here. I do recall you promising me tea at your new apartment.” He looked at his pocket watch. “Well, it’s 5 o’clock in the morning, and the first train leaves at 6. What’s the difference between leaving in the evening or right now.”

“You absolute champ.”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

You laugh whole-heartedly and stuff the parchment in your transfigurations book. You and Regulus took the first train and left Hogwarts behind for the Christmas holidays. A break would do you good. Godric knows you needed to get James off your mind.

James carefully placed the glass slippers in his suitcase and covered them with a few sweaters just in case. He had caught the elves recklessly throwing suitcases into the storage compartment of the Hogwarts express before. You’d think that the use of magic would come in handy for tasks like this, but no.

“Prongs, I got you this?” Sirius pushed a sheet of bubble wrap into James’ arms. James offered Sirius an appreciative look.

After thoroughly explaining everything, from the moment when he found the parchment, to who you were and why he decided that he wanted to become someone you would approve of, Sirius had pieced the rest together and apologized to James for leaving such a shit impression on his mystery date.

James sheepishly pointed at his own solution. “Should I change it?”

“Well, I mean did you see how the elves throw around with our luggage?”

James mirrored Sirius' grin. This break truly came at a perfect time. After all, James would let you occupy his mind as much as he needed to find out who you were.

Two weeks flew by in a blur. You and Regulus had set up a Christmas tree inside your small apartment and had made a competition out of finding the most impressive gift for each other, with only 10 galleons.

You had found the most gorgeous black quill and enchanted ink set for him and were rather confident until Regulus had somehow shown up with what looked like emerald, antique and gorgeously over the top earrings. You had shot him a look and he had immediately provided a receipt to prove he had played fair.

“I just have great negotiating skills,” he’d said.

You had hummed skeptically in reply but had happily tried them on.

All in all, the holidays were a very welcome break for you. Which is why you were so very reluctant to pack your bags. The door to your room opened and Regulus stood in the entrance, leaning against the door frame.

“Get out,” you groaned in dismay at the interruption. Regulus shot you an unimpressed look.

“Not until I see you pack; we leave in less than an hour.”

You huffed in annoyance and threw a pillow at his head. “I’m not asking you again, Black.” You flopped back down on your bed dramatically in dismay at the prospect of going back to Hogwarts. Regulus elegantly tilted his head and let the pillow fly past him.

“One hour,” he enunciated, before walking off.

You threw another pillow his way and yelled, “Close the door when you leave, you twat!”

With a flick of his wand, your door closed.

Regulus waited for you with a bag in his hand.

“Where’s the rest of it,” you teased as you motioned to the small amount of luggage he held.

Regulus turned red but stuck his chin up. “Left them here for the summer,” he off-handedly replied. You laughed. “Great, so you can help carry this bag then,” you grinned and pushed your smaller bag into his hands while you marched out the door with your heavy luggage, dragged behind you.

When you entered the platform, and were handed the Hogwarts newspaper, you did not expect to find a picture of you and James at the Yule ball on the front page. ‘Who are you, Willow?’

You immediately folded the paper together and looked up in panic at Regulus. He looked around and found different students excitedly chittering to each other, all while pointing at the newspaper.

“That is so romantic,”

“I thought James was with Lily?”

“No, they’re just friends now.”

“I was wondering who he was dancing with.”

“She looks so pretty.”

“If I found out that my date was James Potter, I’d take off that mask immediately.”

“Well, she could just be shy.”

“So true, probably Hufflepuff, don’t you think?

“I really hope he finds her.”

You grimaced at everyone and all you wanted to do was disappear. “Relax, Y/N,” Regulus smoothly pulled you on board the Hogwarts Express. “No one will know it’s you.”

Despite knowing that he was absolutely right, you still faced the floor as you looked for an empty compartment. You didn’t realize that you were passing James, who had just come back from a train meeting with the other prefects. He had picked up on Regulus’ words and frowned. But before he could really stop to consider Regulus’ statement, Peter happily waved at him from the marauders’ compartment. “We’re over here!” he called out. James forgot about what he heard.

Remus held the newspaper up in the air when James finally took a seat. “Really?”

“It was Pad’s idea,” James immediately said.

Peter curiously grabbed the newspaper. “Any results?”

James shrugged. “It’s only the first day,” he tries to convince himself, but he was not very sure about this approach to find you.

“It’s going to work out, trust me,” Sirius said. “When she sees that you’re going to this extent to find her, you’ll definitely woo her for sure,” he claimed.

Remus pulled a face. “I mean, if she ran off cause you two were being pricks, again,” he gave both Sirius and James a sharp look. “And hasn’t answered any of your messages, I don’t think starting a witch-hunt of sorts is the way to find her,” he voiced out his opinion. ”She clearly doesn’t want to be found.”

“What are you calling my methods bad?” Sirius squinted his eyes at Remus in mock offense.

“I’m just saying they wouldn’t exactly woo me,” Remus dryly remarked.

“And yet-“

“Guys,” James interrupted. “I just want to find her and apologize. And ask her for another chance to prove that I’m more than what she saw.”

“Well,” Peter started. He turned red when all eyes were suddenly on him. “She will probably not reveal herself. But she’s still a student here. And she knows who you are. So maybe if you publicly show off kind acts, she’ll see how you can be?”

There was a beat of silence and for a moment, Peter wanted to change into a rat and crawl into a hole to hide. But suddenly he was patted on the back by James. “Peter, you absolute champ!”

James Potter was acting weird, and you knew exactly what he was trying to do. You huffed to yourself as you marched right past him while he held the door open for his friends and you, who trailed in right behind them.

Previously, James would have definitely let the door fall in your face, and you had anticipated so, thus smoothly switching your books to your left arm, putting your right hand in front of you in a bracing manner. And so it happened that you stood there frozen, hand flat against James' chest, because he had turned around fully to hold the door open for you.

You embarrassedly dropped your hand that still lingered against him, and a deep frown settled on your face.

“I’d take ten points from Slytherin for touching a student without their consent, but I suppose I’ll let it slide for today,” he arrogantly said. You wanted to beat him up. But you supposed you could let it slide for today. You scowled at him and fled past him towards your designated seat.

Something tugged inside James’ chest as he watched you turn your back towards him and hurry away. He walked to join the rest of the marauders, a ghost feeling of your palm against his chest.

It hadn’t just been you that he was more civilized with. You noticed when you found him volunteering in the library, putting away books back on the shelves manually. This bothered you, because he tended to specifically linger around the particular section in the back about Egyptian rites, your favorite. You knew he was there to hopefully spot any often-returning students.

You also noticed that less and less students were coming back to the common room, hexed. Aside from snide remarks, you hadn’t encountered much animosity from him anymore either.

Instead, you found yourself on assigned patrol with him, despite the fact that Regulus had kindly offered to jinx his broom during Quidditch practice so you wouldn’t have to.

“So,” James broke the silence. “How was your holiday?”

“Why do you want to know,” you immediately shot back before you could stop yourself. James raised his hands in surrender. “Woah, sorry, L/N, just making conversation here.”

You sighed and forced your shoulders to lose their tension. “It was fine.”

“Fine.” James repeated.

“Fine,” you confirmed.

That was the end of your conversation, in your opinion. James however, seemed to think differently.

“So did you get any nice presents?”

You shot him an annoyed look but ended up answering anyway. “Yes actually, Regulus got me these earrings,” you said, and you tilted your head to show him. James’ eyes lingered on your earrings. They looked good on you. The exaggerated gem made you stand out despite your sober attire.

“What else?”

“What do you mean, what else?”

“Why, did your parents not buy you anything or what?”

You halted mid-step and stared up at James. He noticed that he had said something wrong, and when your sisters came to mind, he hurriedly tried to take his words back. You didn’t let him.

“I don’t go home for the holidays,” you settled on. “I’m not particularly welcome there. My parents are as big of a fan of me, as Alyssa and Marla are.” You laughed bitterly and continued walking. James followed behind you, he didn’t say a word, instead waited for you to continue.

“Well, I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist. They wouldn’t want to associate themselves with that, of course,” you sarcastically remarked.

James felt guilt slowly seep in. Your words resonated in his mind and his hands grasped the folded parchment in the pocket of his robes tightly. Those were his exact same words of that night at the Yule ball, and he bit his lip. “I’m sorry.”

You looked up at him, surprise evident in your eyes. “You’re sorry?” You asked him in disbelief.

James nodded. If he couldn’t say it to his mystery girl, at least he could say it to you, he figured.

James watched your eyes light up slightly and for a moment, he was lost in a trance. He snapped out of it when you returned the question. “So how was your holiday?”

He grinned at the olive branch that you were reaching out. “Mine was fine.”

“Fine?”

“Fine,” he teased. You fought the smile that threatened to tug on your lips.

Patrol ended without any incidents to report and when you wrote that down, James peered over your shoulder to catch your circled dot on the ‘i’ of “nothing to report.” A sense of déjà vu dawned on him, but the sheer unconscious refusal to even consider you a possibility kept your secret safe.

When you were in bed that night, you couldn’t help but think about how at ease you had felt for the remainder of the night with James, basking in the familiarity of the person behind the paper.

With every patrol, you two put another step forward in the direction of a friendship of some sorts.

James couldn't deny the fact that with each time, he started to look forward to the next time, almost the same giddy feeling fluttering in his stomach as each time he would unfold his parchment to find new kind words written there.

You and Willow would be friends, James thought, as he looked at you while you were casually explaining Transfiguration to him while you two strolled through the corridors, not without the occasional insult at his 'lack of competence'.

But for now, James enjoyed the privilege of calling you by your first name. A friend of some sorts, he liked to think.

Perhaps he was wrong about Slytherins. Sure, there were some rotten apples, but he supposed there were rotten apples in each house. And you weren't so bad after all.

For the first time in a long time, you enjoyed your days at Hogwarts. Truly enjoyed them. You would send Regulus to the library to get you your favourite books, and would patrol every Thursday with James unless he had Quidditch practice. Then you would patrol with Abrams. You’d come across James, who would nod with a kind smile at you as you two have come to be cautious friends and patrol-partners. You hadn’t really heard anything from your sisters either, which was absolute bliss as well.

But then one day, you were studying Transfiguration by yourself in the library, and you just so happened to need to go to the bathroom. When you returned, you noticed your book was missing and you pulled a sour face before requesting a new one from Professor McGonagall who had looked over her glasses at you.

But that hadn’t been the bad part. No, the bad part was that you had completely forgotten that you had put your enchanted parchment that connected yours to James’ inside that book.

Sirius had victoriously grinned at his funny prank idea. He would change some spells in your book so that you would mess up and become a toad in class. He tossed the book on a table in the common room and a piece of paper slid out.

Sirius had seen the piece of paper before, and his eyes grew as wide as saucers. He jumped up, ran towards his room, and rummaged through James’ nightstand before finding James' parchment under his pillow and wrote something on it. He walked back down the stairs with James’ paper, and he watched in disbelief as a messy ‘hello’ appeared on the paper that your sisters now held. “Merlin,” he breathed out, but your sisters had already stormed out of the room.

You entered the Great Hall and felt everyone staring at you and whispering. Even fellow Slytherin students looked at you in contempt. You gave Regulus a confused look when you walked to the free seat next to him. He quietly slid over the Hogwarts newspaper.

Front page again. ‘Mystery girl uncovered. Not a Willow, but a Hanging Tree.”

You didn’t need to read the rest; you tore your eyes away from the paper. Tears threatened to spill, but you tried to keep a cool front. You turned around to look for James and found him and his friends sitting right behind you.

Whoever thought that putting The Gryffindor table and Slytherin table next to each other should rot in the dungeons, you bitterly thought.

It was your sister who spoke up first. “I can’t believe someone like you would make themselves out to be a victim. ‘Oh no, my sisters bully me,’” she mocked you.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks and got up. She got up as well and you stood eye to eye with each other. “You’re pathetic,” She sneered. “You’re the real mistake here. So go do what you do best- run away.”

You wanted to say something. Anything. But you felt weak and small again. So you turned around and walked away. Whispers continued to fill the room as everyone seemed to have something to say about you.

“How embarrassing.”

“She should be ashamed”

“A Slytherin like her?”

“She definitely wasted James’ time.”

With every comment you heard, you bit harder on the inside of your cheek, and when that last comment dropped, you balled your fists. Why should you be the one to walk away?

You turned around furiously and marched back towards James, who had gotten up to follow you and reached out his hand. You recoiled.

“Y/N, listen-“

“No, you listen to me,” you spat at him. You looked him up and down with a pained look, holding back tears of frustration and while trying to convey as much disgust as you could.

“If you didn’t like what you found out, you could’ve kept it to yourself and thrown the damn paper away. You had no right to publicly try to humiliate me like this. All of your kindness in an attempt to be a good person only shows how wretched you really are when you stop pretending and act cruelly true to yourself.”

James' eyes flashed with hurt and he shook his head, words were stuck in his throat. He wanted to cover his ears; he didn’t want to hear you say this to him. This isn’t what he wanted at all. You were wrong. He didn’t even know it was you until he saw the newspaper this morning.

But you weren’t finished talking yet.

“Has it ever even occurred to any of you,” you looked at the people behind him. You stared your sisters dead in the eye. “That maybe your prejudice and thoughtless assumptions and insults about how awful or evil we Slytherins are, is the very thing that pushes us down that path?”

You turned your attention back to James, who had an unreadable expression on his face now. “Your cruel comments are part of the reason and you, James Potter, are especially cruel.”

Your tone was sharp, face hardened and the entire Great Hall had fallen silent. Not even the professors spoke up. James felt like you had hit him in the face, and you might as well have. He looked down in shame at your words.

You shakily let out your breath and lowered your voice again. This time, you sounded tired. Reality seemed to dawn upon you that everyone in the great hall was listening to you, and you shook your head to yourself, taking a step back. You scoffed softly.

“I suppose you are truly worthy of the Gryffindor name; overly proud and arrogant in the name of bravery with a tendency to prove yourself, disregarding others and their feelings.” Your venomous words cut through James' heart.

James watched you walk away again and everything around him seemed to fade. He was losing you again. How had he not seen this?

Your situation with your sisters. The way you ran away at the Yule ball when he made a crude remark about Slytherins. The sense of déjà vu every time you walked past him, back turned towards him. Your handwriting. The feeling of your hand pressed to his chest just as when you two danced. The way you were great at transfiguration and could have easily transfigured those glass slippers. The way Regulus was the only student to frequently visit your favourite book section in the library. The chills you had sent down his back when you had allowed him to call you by your first name, and in return had called him James.

‘I’m in Slytherin after all. Which obviously equals being an evil blood supremacist.’

‘No one will know it’s you.’

Everyone knows.

Preview if interested

Part three

Taglist:

@k0z3me @magical-spit @bouearis @sprinkled-strawberry-donut @sammy-4103 @imsirius01 @xxrougefangxx @lilianelena39 @bubybubsters @cyphah @handybrownpurse @joeytribbiani18 @letssee2468 @stunkbiggu @unstablefemme @charmingpatronus @hoshi-is-ult-bbg @sadpetalsstuff @hisparentsgallerryy @luvly-writer @starsval @thisisasecretsstuff @theweasleyskettle @thisisasecretsstuff @urmomw4ntsme @krillfromsky @ietss @itsberrydreemurstuff @alexandra-001 @prongsprincessworld @lilsunshine1092 @hawkinsavclub1983 @rinrinslovebot @fluffybunnyu @fearlessmoony @lavenderwisteria @darkenwolfie @gengen64 @grandtheoristpeach @anehkael @lunasolac @targaryenmoony @jasminesacademia @mr-underhills-things

[harrysfolklore]

YES WE NEED DAD!CHARLES

baby leclerc - cl16

it’s father’s day so perfect excuse to write some dad!charles. i hope you like this tooth rooting fluff

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

liked by charles_leclerc, lilymhe and 288,986 others

yourinstagram my job in the paddock is wife ❤️

view all 8,028 comments

username1 ICONIC

francisca.cgomes my queenie ily 💕

↳ yourinstagram love YOU

↳ username2 the best WAGS

charlesfan1 im still not over the fact that charles is married (i know it’s been more than a year)

scuderiaferrari We love Mrs. Leclerc ❤️

↳ charlesfan2 just fell to my knees at walmart

charlesfan3 she really won in life

username3 drop the hair routine

iamrebeccad 😍

↳ username1 ferrari wags >>>>

lilyhme you mean MY wife

↳ yourinstagram absolutely 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ alex_albon Do something about this @/charles_leclerc

↳ charles_leclerc We’re doomed mate, sorry

leclerc_pascale Ma belle fille 💕💕

↳ yourinstagram je t'aime maman !

↳ charlesfan1 WHY AM I CRYING OVER THIS INTERACTION

charles_leclerc Love of my life ❤️

↳ charlesfan1 CRYING

↳ charlesfan2 SOBBING

liked by yourinstagram, pierregasly and 1,153,959 others

charles_leclerc Lovely time out in the track. Let’s go back home to the wifey now ❤️

view all 25,478 comments

charlesfan1 BABYYYYY

charlesfan2 THE CAPTION 😭

username1 i’ve never seen a man flex that he’s married this much

maxverstappen1 Whipped

↳ landonorris Don’t be jealous Max

↳ username2 CLOCK HIM

charlesfan3 WHEN IS YN GOING TO BE IN THE PADDOCK AGAIN??

↳ charlesfan1 seriously it’s been a month

francisca.cgomes MY wifey

↳ charles_leclerc Do I even bother? @/pierregasly

↳ pierregasly It’s a lost cause

↳ yourinstagram don’t be jealous of me and my wife 👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩

↳ charlesfan1 😭😭😭

username3 bring yn back to the paddock

yourinstagram my hubby is so 😍😍😍

↳ landonorris I feel so single right now

↳ charles_leclerc ❤️love you

liked by yourinstagram, maxverstappen1 and 5,027,337 others

charles_leclerc We can’t wait to meet you, baby girl ❤️

view all 45,826 comments

charlesfan1 OMAHSKSHSUAYA

charlesfan2 IM STILL SCREAMING

lilymhe 🫶🫶🫶🥲 my heart

lewishamilton CONGRATULATIONS beautiful family already

username1 I KNEW IT

charlesfan3 can we talk about how casually charles dropped that information on the interview 😭😭 like SIR

↳ charlesfan1 and how he was trying to contain his smile while he was talking IM SOBBING

pierregasly CONGRATULATIONS MY FRIEND 👏👏

schecoperez Welcome to fatherhood Charles !

charlesfan4 HOLD ON BABY GIRL ??? THEY’RE HAVING A GIRL ?????

↳ charlesfan2 ALREADY DYING OVER GIRL DAD CHARLES

↳ yourinstagram we don’t know what we’re having yet (it’s going to be a surprise) but charles insists we’re having a girl !

↳ charlesfan1 IM CRYING WHAT ARE WE SUPPOSED TO DO WITH THIS INFORMATION

↳ charles_leclerc It’s called fatherly instincts 😘

↳ charlesfan2 AHHHH

scuderiaferrari We can’t wait to have a little Tifosi running around the garage ❤️

↳ charlesfan1 crying once again over the thought of charles bringing his kids to the races

georgerussell63 Can I be godfather?

↳ maxverstappen1 No, I am

↳ pierregasly You wish

↳ arthur_leclerc I’m the brother, It’s me

↳ charlesfan2 IM SCREAMING THEY’RE ALL SO

oscarpiastri Congratulations 🫶

charlesfan5 i’ve been weeping over this post and the comments for an hour now

redbullracing We make baby sized redbull jackets

↳ username1 REDBULL ADMIN WILDING 😭

↳ charles_leclerc Never.

carlossainz55 ❤️❤️❤️

joris__trouche Whoever said they wanted to be godfather, just want you to know that I won

↳ username2 😭😭😭

leclerc_pascale 💕💕💕💕

francisca.cgomes LOVE YOU BOTH 🫶

landonorris Uncle Lando is ready to babysit

↳ charles_leclerc Bold of you to assume I’ll let you babysit my kid

↳ landofan1 HEEEEEEEELPPPP

danielricciardo Beautiful news, you will make the cutest family

lilyzneimer 🥺

mclaren Papaya is a great color for a nursery 🧡

↳ charles_ leclerc NO

↳ landonorris YES

lorenzotl My baby brother is having a baby, I feel old

yourinstagram squish is already so loved by all of their uncles and aunties 🥺🥺 i love you all

↳ charles_leclerc Her* we’re having a girl 🥰

↳ yourinstagram STOP THIS

charlesfan6 this comment section is a rollercoaster

liked by charles_leclerc, iamrebeccad and 502,188 others

yourinstagram the last few days 💌 the hubby is glued to the bump whenever he’s home, squish and i watch races together and i swear i can feel them jump when charles talks on the screen, we miss you papa @/charles_leclerc 🤍

view all 9,644 comments

username1 this caption just killed me

username2 THIS IS SO CUTE

charlesfan1 IM SOBBING ACTUALLY

lilymhe 💗💗 cutest family ever

scuderiaferrari Little Tifosi in the making ❤️

↳ mclaren They can always become Papaya

↳ charles_leclerc Never, we settled it

↳ username1 not the admins fighting

carlossainz55 Sending you big hugs from me and Rebecca 🫶

charlesfan2 CHARLES GO BACK TO YOUR PREGNANT WIFEEEE

francisca.cgomes I’m coming with sweets for you and baby leclerc 💕💕

↳ yourinstagram this is why i love you

username3 they still don’t know what they’re having ahhh

↳ charlesfan3 but i bet charles keeps insisting it’s a girl

maxverstappen1 Don’t worry, I’m making sure to give him all the girl dad tips along with Checo while you’re home

↳ yourinstagram we don’t know if it’s a girl stop it 😭

↳ charles_leclerc It’s a girl ❤️

↳ username3 omg girldads max checo and charles

landonorris So, about godfather again?

↳ pierregasly No

↳ arthur_leclerc Give it up

↳ alex_albon It’s not happening

leclerc_pascale l'attente est presque terminée!

↳ charlesfan1 OMFG SHE SAID THAT THE WAIT IS ALMOST OVER THE BABY MUST BE COMING REALLY SOON

↳ charlesfan2 YELLING

charles_leclerc I miss you so much, my girls ❤️

↳ charlesfan3 he’s NOT giving up

↳ yourinstagram why do i even bother

↳ yourinstagram we miss you too 💗

liked by maxverstappen1, yourinstagram and 7,836,377 others

charles_leclerc Welcome to the world, our precious girl ❤️

Words cannot express the overwhelming joy and love I feel holding you in my arms for the first time. Becoming your daddy is the greatest gift life has given me, and I promise to cherish and protect you every single day. Thank you to everyone for your incredible support and well wishes during this special time.

PS: Father’s intuition is always right 😉

view all 72,368 comments

charlesfan1 OH LORD

charlesfan2 I JUST FELL TO MY KNEES AT WALMART

username1 baby leclerc is here 🥺🥺🥺

georgerussell63 Baby Leclerc is so loved by so many already 🤍

lewishamilton Congratulations to your beautiful family, wishing you all the happiness in the world ‬ with your little girl 🫶

↳ username2 THIS IS SO SWEET OMG

charlesfan3 HE WAS RIGHT ALL ALONG 😭

charlesfan4 CHARLES IS A GIRL DAD AHHHH

schecoperez Enhorabuena Charles! Parenthood is a wild ride just like a race weekend. Enjoy every lap! Welcome to the club

maxverstappen1 Can’t wait to take her under my wing and make her world champion

↳ redbullracing Redbull gives you wings 😉

↳ charles_leclerc NO

arthur_leclerc I’m the happiest uncle ever ❤️

francisca.cgomes I’m still crying. Baby Leclerc we love you so much 🤍

charlesfan5 FERRARI PRINCESS IS HERE

scuderiaferrari A future Ferrari champion in the making? 🤔 Wishing you all the happiness and joy in this new chapter of life!

↳ username1 they got the serious admin for this one

carmenmmundt What a precious blessing. Sending lots of love to you two ✨

oscarpiastri Congratulations 🧡

charlesfan7 THIS IS THE MOST PRECIOUS CAPTION EVER

danielricciardo Aww, mini Leclerc! Congrats mate, can't wait to see her in a little Ferrari jumpsuit

carlossainz55 So happy for you my friend, you’re going to be the best dad for the little princess ❤️

↳ iamrebeccad We love you so much, baby Leclerc

pierregasly Wow mate! Time really flies, I’m so happy to see my childhood best friend become a dad 💙

↳ username1 this is so wholesome

username4 I WONDER WHAT HER NAME IS

alex_albon I read this caption to Lily and she started sobbing, we love you a lot in this household, baby Leclerc

joris__trouche I love my goddaughter so much 💗

↳ maxverstappen1 When was that settled?

↳ pierregasly I would also like to know

↳ arthur_leclerc I’m really offended right now

↳ charlesfan1 HEEEELP

mlnmarta Baby Chiara is ready to play with her little cousin 🥺

↳ charlesfan2 AHHH BABY CHIARA AND BABY LECLERC TOGETHER

landonorris UNCLE LALA MODE ON LOVE YOU ALREADY PRINCESS LECLERC

↳ landofan1 😭😭❤️

↳ maxfan1 stop P will get jealous

yourinstagram your love and support have made this journey truly magical. thank you for being an amazing hubby and father already. we're so grateful for you 🤍

↳ charlesfan1 THATS IT. IM CRYING AGAIN

↳ charlesfan2 this family is the purest thing ever

↳ charles_leclerc Thank you for everything ❤️

[ckret2]

Chapter 49 of human Bill Cipher being such a miserable prisoner even the Pines are starting to feel bad for him: The Eclipse: Epilogue.

####

"The heck did you do to that poor woman?" Tate asked, staring out the window. Bill was sitting on the pier, legs dangling in the water, staring blankly into the depths. He was still muddy and trembling. "She looks more traumatized than when y'all left."

Ford couldn't meet Tate's gaze under the brim of his hat, but he could feel Tate raising a brow when he spotted Dipper pacing back and forth on the pier behind Bill, muttering furiously.

"We've had a very bad day," Ford said. 

"Uh-huh."

"Could I borrow your phone to call my brother?"

Outside, Dipper was oblivious to everything except the one line he'd managed to remember from the Axolotl, the words he'd picked out as they crossed the lake. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,'" Dipper murmured. He knew that much. It was a poem. It was a rhyme. He couldn't remember the rest. What did it mean? He murmured it over and over to himself as he walked, trying to remember the next line, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes,' 'sixty degrees that come in threes'... breeze, freeze, ease, lease, knees—" He couldn't remember the rhyme.

Bill was considering grabbing Dipper by the ankle and dragging him off the pier just to shut him up when whatsisname, the younger McGucket came out of the shop. "Hello there? Miss Goldie?"

Human. Strange human. Human that Bill could get on his side. Be charming. He tried to remember how to be charming. He offered a feeble smile. "Yello?"

"I wanted to make sure you're all right," Tate said. "You look like you, uh... you've had a hard time."

Bill laughed ruefully. "Well, I've been dragged all over the mountain, I'm hungry, exhausted, and half-drowned, and I can barely walk—but I'm not currently dead. Allegedly. I'll take what I can get."

The corners of Tate's mouth twitched down in a concerned frown. "Is there anything you need? A..." He floundered for a moment, "A water, or...?"

"I've had enough water to last me a lifetime." He wondered idly whether he could claim he was too exhausted to make it all the way home—there was a sofa in the staff room, Tate would probably let the poor bedraggled "woman" take a nap, if Bill got that bit of distance between himself and the Pines maybe he could... maybe he could... do something with it? But he couldn't think of anything more definite than that and now Ford was coming back and the window of opportunity closed. He shrugged wearily. "Just need to get back to the shack. Thanks." He half heartedly used the lake water to wash the drying mud off his lower legs and knees.

"Stan will be here in about twenty minutes," Ford said, and tried to ignore the dirty look Tate gave him. 

"I'll be just inside if you need anything else," Tate said. "Watching." He headed inside—and then, indeed, stood at the shop window and watched.

Ford was never going to get on Tate's good side. He suspected Tate would be a little less sympathetic to the poor woman on the pier if he knew who he really was; but it certainly wouldn't make Tate like Ford any better for keeping him around.

"Nothing to do now but wait." Ford unloaded the rest of their supplies from the borrowed motor boat. He dropped Soos's Monster-Mon backpack beside Bill—it was heavy, Bill must have just shoved his clothes and bedsheet straight in without bothering to wring out the water—and the plastic bag of snacks Dipper had bought. "You ought to eat more while we wait." Ford nudged the snack bag.

Bill sneered at it. "I don't want that trash."

"What?" Ford examined the bag's contents. Jerky, chips, candy, cups of marshmallow cereal... "This is ninety percent of what you eat."

"Ninety percent of what I eat is what I can scavenge from the counters."

Ford looked through the bag again. Ah. Right. So it was. "If you want something else, you know you can ask us to..."

"Mac and cheese."

Maybe Ford had better stop talking. He sighed and glanced at Dipper to see how he was doing.

It didn't look like Dipper had even registered Ford's return, too busy pacing and muttering to himself. Ford frowned. "Dipper?"

"Axolotl," Bill explained. "He's obsessing over him. Didn't I tell you that meeting that thing would drive him insane?" He tilted his head toward Dipper. "Look at that, he's already mumbling to himself. Don't suppose you have his therapist's number, do you? I doubt that would save him, but it might slow the process—"

Ford shushed him.

Dipper had briefly tuned back into the conversation when he heard Bill say Axolotl; and now he grit his teeth and stubbornly tuned it back out. No. He was not going insane. Dipper would figure this out. If he just remembered the rest he'd be fine. He tried to go through all the potential rhymes alphabetically, "—bees, cease, d—deez?" That wasn't a word. "Fees, geese, he's..." and on and on, "seas, tees, uh... vees? Wheeze..."

"I've had enough of you trying to convince that boy he's about to go mad," Ford muttered to Bill. "What do you get out of saying that? Even if you do convince him he's insane, it won't make him start trusting anything else you say."

"I'm not lying," Bill said heatedly. "You ought to know that, you've been in the multiverse, you've seen plenty of maddening sights. You saw them before you even left the Nightmare Realm."

Ford hesitated before responding; was Bill trying to persuade Ford he was insane? But he could still remember those first few moments of terror in the Nightmare Realm: the creatures that had seemed to move and shift in impossible ways as they swam in and out of dimensions Ford couldn't see, the lights and colors that throbbed like an inverted migraine, Bill himself seemingly suspended a million light years away and a foot in front of Ford's face at the same time. Until Ford had latched onto his quest to destroy Bill and let that focus him, his mind had felt like an unraveling sock. "You were chief among those maddening sights."

"I was," Bill acknowledged neutrally.

"But I didn't go insane."

"Because you knew when to look away." He cast a sideways glance at Dipper, an implicit unlike him. "I know you used to read cosmic horror. Do you know why the narrator always goes mad just from looking at some giant beast? It's not because it's too ugly to take. It's because once you meet something, you try to understand it; but if you want to understand the reality something like that comes from," he rolled an eye up toward where the invisible Axolotl had hung in the sky, "you have to lose your understanding of your own reality. They're incompatible. Like the lunatics who escaped Plato's cave and came back ranting about nonsense like sunlight and colors."

It was a twisted interpretation of the cave allegory. Plato had meant it as a metaphor for education: that learning about the true nature of reality was enlightening, but alienated you from your peers.

Perhaps to Bill, enlightenment and insanity were the same thing.

Ford murmured, "Once your eyes have been too dazzled by the sunlight to see the dim shadows, you'll never be awed by a candle again."

"You have been there before."

Ford didn't answer.

"Once you've seen something like that, if you let yourself dwell on the significance of it all, you're doomed. Better to tell yourself it's unimportant and try to forget it ever happened."

Ford thought of Fiddleford.

Bill twisted around to snap tiredly at Dipper, "So stop staring at the sun before you go blind, moron."

"Shut up." Dipper had been trying to mentally drown out Bill's dire predictions by grasping for more rhymes—"disease, unease, Socrates"—but enough filtered through to make his stomach churn with nervousness. What if Bill was right? What if he never remembered what the Axolotl told him—what if he drove himself mad trying? What if this turned into a lifelong obsession—but he'd be fine and could let it go once he remembered—was that the trap? Was whatever it had told him impossible for a human to remember? Was it something so incomprehensible a human couldn't remember it without going crazy?

But he'd seen plenty of stuff last summer that was supposed to make humans go "insane." Bill had to be messing with him. He remembered the first line—surely that meant he could remember the rest—but was that part of the trap? "'Sixty degrees that come in threes'... come on, there's something else, I know it, what is it? 'Sixty degrees that come in threes'—"

Bill sighed irritably. "'Watches through the eyes in trees.'"

Dipper stopped pacing. He hadn't realized he'd raised his voice enough to be audible. "What?"

"What?" Bill said.

"What's the rest of it?"

"What rest of it? It's a couplet. That's all," Bill said. "Is that what he told you? He gets rhymey when he feels self-important, it's no big deal. Maybe you're lucky. Put it out of your head and you'll be fine."

Dipper turned the words over in his head. Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches through the eyes in trees... "That's not exactly right," he said slowly. "It was 'watches from within birch trees.'"

"Is that how he translated it? I've never heard it in English before. I got close, though, I knew it'd rhyme."

Ford echoed, "'Sixty degrees that come in threes.' Like a triangle?"

Dipper gave him a perplexed look. "What?"

"You're taking geometry next year, aren't you? The inner angles of polygons always have the same number of degrees; and a triangle has a hundred and eighty degrees. Three angles of sixty degrees forms... an equilateral triangle."

Dipper and Ford stared at Bill.

Bill gave them a tired, unreadable look. "What?" he said. "Don't look at me. I'm not the only equilateral triangle in the universe."

Well, now Dipper was sure there was more to the poem than just a couplet. "How many other equilateral triangles spy on people through birch trees?"

"Lay off," Bill said crabbily. "I didn't have to tell you that line. Don't make me regret it." He planted his elbows on his knees, laced his hands together, pressed his forehead to them, and massaged his eyelids with his thumbs.

He tilted slightly to the right, keeping the weight of his head off his left arm.

####

"Nice shirt," Stan said, eyeing Ford's anger management t-shirt.

"If you like it, you can have it."

"What happened to your coat?"

"Somewhere at the bottom of the lake," Ford sighed.

"How...?"

"I'll fill you in later."

Bill's trembling was almost unnoticeable by the time Stan arrived. Or, at least, it was slight enough that he could stand and make the short walk from the pier to the car without an obvious struggle. 

He climbed into the back seat, slid across the bench, leaned against the door, wrapped his arms around his Monster-Mon backpack, fell asleep, and didn't wake up for the entire drive home.

Dipper and Ford fell silent when they noticed; and, sensing the heavy atmosphere, Stan followed suit.

####

The event organizers for Higher Dimensional Gate had arranged for the Magister Mentium's audience to surround him in a circle with as large a circumference as possible, so that as many shapes as possible could pack into the first few rows where they could see him. Even so, the crowd was much too large for everyone to be in the first few rows. Speakers had to be planted throughout the crowd so that they'd all be able to hear the Magister speak. Most of his audience couldn't see him.

But he, with his all-seeing eye, could see all of them.

The crowd extended back, row after row after row, in every direction like flecks of multicolor confetti filling the air all the way to the horizon. He'd never spoken to such a large crowd before. He didn't think he'd ever seen such a large crowd before.

Not all of them were his worshipers. He didn't have that many worshipers. The rest were drawn in by his boast—to be the first shape outside of legends to predict an eclipse, over six months ahead of schedule. They were here for a spectacle. He meant to give them one.

If he succeeded, all these spectators would become his worshipers, he was sure of it. If he didn't succeed, he lost everything. The whole nation knew about his bet. He'd be financially ruined. His worshipers would abandon him. There would be no fleeing to a new town and starting over; everyone everywhere knew who he was. His life would be over.

This would be only the third eclipse he could recall. There's no way to neatly map shape ages onto human ages. Different year lengths, different aging speeds, different mental and physical milestones. But approximately, compared to a human, he was scarcely over fifteen years old. 

But he wouldn't fail. He pushed all his fears aside. He didn't even want to think about them. He wouldn't, because he couldn't, because he could see what nobody else saw. He could see the eclipse's approach.

It was traveling across the vast empty gulf outside the world.

The only other third dimensional objects he'd ever seen were the sun—which looked to him like a circle—and the stars—which seemed to be mere points. He assumed all third dimensional objects were fundamentally just second dimensional objects, moving on a strange plane. He had no capacity to model a 3D object in his mind.

But the eclipse was a beast that twirled and gyrated around impossible axes, moving and rotating in ways his eye couldn't even comprehend. To him, it looked as though the living creature—he assumed it was a living creature, sometimes it manifested a couple of limbs or an eye—was constantly shapeshifting, its perimeter moving and altering. Its uncanny undulations had haunted his nightmares for months after he first watched it, so young he'd barely started school. It wasn't any less nightmarish now.

But as incomprehensible and terrifying as it was, he could see it, and nobody else here could, and that was all that mattered. He could watch it on the horizon and publicly announce that it would cross the sun in two weeks—and then in about three days—and then, to his humiliation, not tomorrow but today, guaranteed, as the creature sped up and threw off his estimate. His worshipers and bemused spectators had taken over the square to while away the time. They'd quickly gathered around him to wait after he'd declared it would arrive within the hour

That had been almost an hour and a half ago. The stupid thing had slowed down.

The triangle was terrified.

In every direction, shapes were staring at him. Waiting. His father was watching him—his stare seemed to grow heavier by the minute. He could see reporters in the crowd taking notes.

He had to fight not to pace, not to cringe, not to show any nerves in front of the hundreds of eyes.

Now. It had to be now. It was so close. Please don't let him be wrong. Every cord in his body quivered in terror as he grabbed his microphone and announced: "Lines, bis, tris—quads, quints, and more! My dear students and beloved believers, and my—" he cut off the urge to say something nastier, "—curious visitors, who I hope will join our quest for enlightenment. This is the moment you've been waiting for! The eclipse is upon us! In less than a minute, it will begin!" He had to keep his gaze forward as he spoke, looking at his audience. (His mother had always said the way his eye went white when he was looking at the third dimension unnerved people.) "Soon—you won't have to take all my claims about the third dimension on faith. You'll be able to see for yourself the effect of the third dimension on the plane."

The crowd murmured excitedly. He could see his father relax. He stared up-but-not-north, gnawing nervously on his eyelid until he caught himself. The beast above glowed a warm pink in the light of the nearby sun.

And the stupid thing. Slowed. Again.

He stared in disbelief.

"Sixty seconds," his father whispered, out of range of the microphone.

His stomach flopped. He was dead.

"One minute, fifteen seconds. What's going—?"

He held his microphone away and hissed, "The eclipse decided to zigzag."

"Eclipses can zigzag?"

"Shhh!" He'd already failed. He'd already shown everyone he was wrong. He could hear the murmurs. His eye hurt from staring at the sun and from straining for so long to turn so far upward-not-northward, go faster faster faster—

There! The snout of the eclipse was this close to kissing the perimeter of the sun. He cried triumphantly, "Now!"

The wretched beast did a loop-the-loop around the sun and missed it entirely.

The triangle felt the last strands of his fraying self-composure snap.

He howled in rage.

He could hear laughs from the crowd. They felt like daggers in his sides.

"ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!" He was bellowing into outer space as if he thought it might hear him, "Do your think this is a game?! Is this funny?! Are you trying to humiliate me in front of the whole world!" His father put a hand on his arm; the triangle shoved him away. "Get back here right now! You thick, brainless, blobby, pink, feeler-faced two-eyed freak of nature! GET BACK HERE and LOOK ME IN THE EYE!" He was a lunatic, everyone would know it, their leader raving in a direction no one could actually see about some big pink delusion, what did he care, no one would ever take him seriously again anyway—

And the thing in the sky.

Stopped.

And looped back.

And came closer, and closer, and bigger, and bigger—it just kept getting bigger, how far away had it been before, how large was it, how large was the sun?

He hardly noticed the crowd's gasp as the creature twirled between them and the sun—the light shone through its body, pink with blood—and then out of the way, and then in again, and out—until finally it was so close that its perimeter completely engulfed the sun. He'd taken a field trip to the planet's surface once—an enormous solid mass of stone and crystal. Until now, he'd never seen another solid objects so large. To his limited understanding of 3D objects, it looked as though there were no organs inside its perimeter—just a layer of solid, uninterrupted flesh. He didn't know how it could even move.

It stopped straight over him.

He was sure the two black circles embedded inside its body must be its eyes. His whole life he'd heard psychic powers—psychic powers like his own—described as having an "inner eye." But he'd thought the phrase was just a metaphor. An eye on the inside of a body instead of on its perimeter would be useless to most people. He'd never seen a creature with an eye literally on the inside of its body. But the eclipse had two.

And they were looking at him.

A giant ever-shapeshifting cosmic horror from outside of reality, staring through the veil separating the sane world from outerplanar space, and it was looking—at—him.

He was terrified.

He heard an alien voice in his head, vast and deep and slow as distant whale song:

"Hello there!" It was overjoyed. It was tickled pink. "I've never been spoken to by a shape on the wall before. I didn't know you could see off of it!"

Weakly, the triangle repeated, "'A shape on the'...?"

"Yes, this wall of yours." The eclipse gestured with its tail at—everything. A single sweep that took in an entire dimension. "I've probably commuted past this wall billions of times, and nothing's ever called to me before. I didn't know shadows could do that!"

"'Shadows'?" the triangle echoed again. That was all they were? An eclipse's shadows?

"I'm absolutely delighted," the eclipse said. "First contact from a lower-dimensional species! I've watched you for eons and never imagined. Isn't this exciting! How charming of you! Tell me who you are."

Him? "Me?"

"Of course. Who else?" It stared at him. Only him. A shapeshifting force of nature the size of a planet with two inner eyes, an eclipse that saw him as a shadow—and it was looking only at him.

Weakly, he said, "I'm... the Magister Mentium."

The eclipse thought that over. Its tone was a tad dubious and not terribly impressed (why should it be impressed? he was embarrassed at himself for giving his silly puffed-up title)—but it said, "Yes, I suppose that's true. I am the Axolotl. It's been a pleasure meeting you." It began to shapeshift again—its eyes slid sideways through its body, until one reached its perimeter and disappeared.

It dawned on the triangle, in its first immature understanding of third dimensional objects, that its eye had disappeared because the Axolotl was turning away. "Wait!" he cried. "Why..." Why answer him? Why focused on him so completely, if he was just a shadow? Why ask who he was like he mattered? He didn't even know how to put those questions to words in his own mind, much less out loud. "Why are you here so early?"

The Axolotl turned back to the triangle. "Oh! I had to go back for some documents I forgot at the office. Big case in the morning," it said. "You shadows know my schedule?"

"You... pass in front of the sun."

The Axolotl turned away, eyes disappearing and frills fluttering, to look at the sun. "So I do! How funny." It turned toward the triangle and gave him a strange, grotesque look that—by the tone of its psychic voice—he suspected was a smile. "I must get going. I'll be heading into the office a few hours late tomorrow, but perhaps I'll see you again then." And it turned away. It felt like it took forever for the enormous body to sail over-not-north-of the triangle—and pass, at last, out of the sun's path.

The triangle didn't look down-but-not-south until someone shook his side—his father. He lowered his dazed gaze to the crowd—the cheering, applauding crowd. Ma-gi-ster, Ma-gi-ster. A sea of multicolor confetti shapes that filled the air to the horizon.

Shadows.

His father shook him again—"Go on, say something. They're waiting"—and the triangle held up his mic as though he were in a dream. He tried to remember what he was supposed to say. "I was right," he said flatly. "Just like I always told you. I can see the third dimension. The realm of dreams—of colors, of light, and..." The lies left a sick taste in the back of his eye. He couldn't say them. Points of light in darkness and pink nightmares.

"I'm s— You'll all have to excuse me," he said, his voice childish and small. "I can't—I've had a... a... profound... spiritual experience. I must meditate on the revelations I've received." The words felt like woo-woo mumbo-jumbo. "The next eclipse will be a few months after the new year." It seemed important, for some reason, to pass that information on. Wasn't that what he always said he did? Share the wisdom of third dimensional spirits with his followers? "I... have to go now."

His father took his elbow. "This is your moment," he whispered. "Come on, son—you don't want to lose your chance to speak directly to them, do you?"

He shoved the microphone in his father's side. "You speak to them."

"But—"

"I can't," he said. "I can't."

He cut through the crowd as fast as it would part for him—if they were any slower, he'd have started stabbing his way through—haunted the whole way by their applause.

####

And that was it.

From the Axolotl's perspective, he had just had a brief pleasant exchange with a precocious tadpole in a sidewalk puddle.

From the triangle's perspective, he might as well have been standing on the boat deck watching as Cthulhu rose from his millennia of dead slumber at the bottom of the ocean, turned to the fragile vessel bobbing on the waves, and said, "Good morning! Glorious weather we're having, isn't it?"

And from the perspective of the Higher Dimensional Gate, their Magister Mentium had predicted an eclipse, been rightfully insulted when it didn't come the exact second he ordered it, and furiously summoned down an eclipse darker and swifter and longer than any in recorded history.

Up until then, he had been seen as, at best, an oracle. A prophet. A messenger to share the secrets of the third dimension, but that was all he could do. But now, he had commanded forces in an unseen dimension, creating an eclipse months before it was natural. He had made it flicker on and off like he had his finger on the sun's light switch. News reports and the most unimpeachable scientific authorities reported that the eclipse had centered on the location of the Higher Dimensional Gate rally, narrowed down to an inexplicably small radius around that point, and then remained unchanged for several long minutes, long enough for anyone in its shadow to grow fatigued from the missing sunshine. Nothing like that had ever happened before. It defied every known fact about the science of eclipses.

People around the gathering—even people who had known nothing about the Higher Dimensional Gate rally—reported that during the eclipse, they'd become inexplicably disoriented, unable to tell compass directions, and had felt themselves fall toward the darkness—as if gravity's pull had suddenly moved from the south to the epicenter of the eclipse. Public building inspections confirmed that somehow the entire town had shifted, ever so slightly, closer to the epicenter. Closer to the Magister.

Never mind prophecy; as far as the Magister's rapidly-increasing followers were concerned, he might have been a god.

It was the greatest triumph a baby cult leader could ask for.

He barely noticed.

####

For days, he could hardly sleep, speak, or think. He kept losing track of conversations to stare into space. Now, it awed his followers when his eye turned an empty white—he must have been communing with something in a higher dimension.

He didn't argue. It was better than letting them know he was losing his mind.

He spent his time alone locked in his room, pacing back and forth, trying not to look up-but-not-north and failing. Dwelling on the significance of it all. Feeling like he'd never figure it out.

He used to love cosmic horror stories, back when he had time to read. They followed a reliable pattern: the hero travels farther than any rational shape ever should, meets something big, and goes mad from the realization.

And what was it that the hero always realized? That he was a dust fleck in the firmament. That he was insignificant. That he didn't matter. That there were things out there he'd never seen before and would never truly understand, and that they cared not for mere shadows on the wall like him, and that in the grand scheme of the cosmos he was nothing. That he was utterly unimportant.

In moments of what felt like lucidity in between the shivering horror, the triangle  wryly acknowledged that it was no surprise he'd ended up in a cosmic horror story. He could see into another dimension. In the stories he'd read, that made it all but inevitable.

But all the authors had gotten the maddening revelation wrong. He could have handled knowing he was nothing. It almost would have been a relief. 

True horror was knowing he mattered.

He'd spent the majority of his young life selling the idea that he was oh-so-important, as part of a big con to trick gullible idiots into liking him and flinging cash at his rotten undeserving family—and he'd only been able to do it because when the guilt got to him, when his conscience asked what would become of the shapes forking over their life savings on false promises of divine secrets, he could look out into bleak black space and tell himself that nothing really mattered, nothing was important, nothing he'd ever do would really make a difference, and the people he manipulated didn't matter any more than he did. He meant everything to his worshipers, and nothing to the universe. He could do anything and it didn't matter.

For a moment, a vast mind-melting shape-shifting incomprehensible eldritch god had focused its full attention on him—of all the universe, of all the dimensions beyond the known universe, it had looked at him and only him—a mere shadow on the wall, and yet in that moment, it found him interesting. It found him worthy of notice. He had screamed into the cold uncaring void, and the void had cared. For a moment, he'd held cosmic importance. He mattered. His actions mattered.

He'd felt it see him as important, but why? What was so important about him? There had to have been something significant he'd done, something he showed it, something in what he said. He replayed their conversation in his mind over and over and over and over, trying to remember what he'd done that proved he mattered.

He didn't know what it was. He couldn't find it. All he could remember was just... being.

The writers were wrong. Cosmic horror wasn't when an elder god's eyes slid past you without noticing you existed. It was when the elder god gazed down at you at your lowest and bleakest, during your most petty and selfish act of mass swindling, from a dimension where not even slamming the door and shutting your eye could shield you from its gaze—and it decided you were worth caring about. Cosmic horror was when you encountered a colossal alien that planted the incomprehensibly alien idea in your head that you had an inherent worth just because you existed. Cosmic horror was when a force of nature asked the name of a shadow on the wall.

If it was true... if it all mattered... then what was he doing? How could he? What had he done?

####

He was lucky—he was lucky that his parents had raised him to think so clearly about issues like morality and money and easy marks. His only saving grace was that he was too rational to seriously entertain the Axolotl's mad ideas.

And yet, his mind boiled with mad regret. It blazed with insane guilt. The heat of it could burn him out. It was months before he could continue his public sermons without feeling sick—and even once he did, he could still feel the delusion that what he did mattered, festering in his mind.

It would fester for the next trillion years.

####

(And that concludes this plot arc! I hope y'all enjoyed it!! I'd love to hear what y'all thought of the whole thing—especially now that we've looped back to the original eclipse. 😁)

[samaraxmorgan]

Your Roommate Sukuna

“That Time We Got High And Almost Kissed”

Modern no curse AU, Sukuna X Reader

Synopsis: This housing crisis sure is no joke huh? Rent is just too expensive to live alone, so you put out a listing for a roommate and ended up living with none other than the tattooed bad boy Ryomen Sukuna! This is part of a series of drabbles and oneshots showing glimpses into you and Sukuna’s living situation!!

Contains: brothers au, fluff, frenemies dynamic, use of illegal substances (cannabis)

Word Count: 2.63k

Series Masterlist - My Full Masterlist

Sukuna always finds a way to surprise you, he’s definitely got that going for him. However, that’s not exactly a good thing the vast majority of the time, and today is no exception.

You turn the corner as you come up the stairs and find his bedroom door wide open. He’s hunched over on his bed using his pocket knife to slice open a cheap gas station cigar, spilling the tobacco onto a paper plate. He pulls a small plastic bag out of his back pocket and carefully pinches its contents out, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger before sprinkling it inside of the shell of the cigar. His eyes glance over into the hallway and he immediately does a double take after spotting you watching him, for a brief moment he looked like a deer in headlights.

You squint your eyes, your brows furrowing questionably, “Is that weed?”

He lets out a dry scoff, looking back down towards the blunt in his fingers and continuing to fill it up, “Creep.”

“You’re the one with the door wide open!” You exclaim, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

You step into his bedroom, walls littered with posters leaving no clear space in sight; even the ceilings are covered in black tapestries. You crawl onto the foot of his bed, your knees sinking into the red comforter. Sukuna’s hair is disheveled, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in focus, tired eyes narrowed down as he stuffs the flower into the dark brown paper.

“Isn’t that illegal?” You question, a little more snarky than you intended.

“What’re you, a cop?” His crimson eyes shoot a glare up at you, fingers rolling the blunt closed and his pierced tongue licking a stripe up the incision he cut into the wrapper to seal it back shut.

Did he really have to do that without breaking eye contact? He’s gonna be the death of me.

A tiny smirk creeps onto the corner of his lips, “You should try it, could really use something t’ get that stick out your ass.”

You give him an exaggerated eye roll, “I hate you so much, you know that?”

“Yeah yeah, not like y’tell me every day,” A spark flashes in his eyes, his sheepish grin turning more mischievous, “Hey tell you what, split this with me and I’ll show you my spot.”

Your head tilts in confusion, eyeing him up curiously, “Your spot?”

He leans back against the headrest of his bed, shrugging nonchalantly, “Didn’t think I smoked in the house, did you?”

It does never smell like cigarettes in the apartment, or weed, or whatever the hell else he’s smoking. You could smell it on his clothes all the time, but now that you think about it you’ve never actually seen him smoke before.

“You leave the house to smoke?”

“You could call it that, sure.” He hops off the bed, pulling on a pair of black combat boots from his closet and not bothering to tie them. He turns around to face you, looking down at you expectantly, “Gonna join me or not?”

He’s such a bad influence, you’re so aware of that. But you’re also so morbidly curious, and he’s a hard man to say no to, so you cautiously nod your head and stand up from his bed.

“Knew you had it in you.” He smirks, placing the blunt between his lips to hold it in place and snatching a disposable lighter off his nightstand, stuffing it into his pocket.

Sukuna walks across his room to the window, his back facing the glass as he slides it open behind him, and then leaning back to stick his torso outside. His strong tattooed arms reach up over his head as he grabs the edge of the roof and lifts his legs into a crouch, promptly pulling his whole body out the window, doing one hell of a pull up to lift himself up onto the roof in one fluid motion.

Your jaw nearly drops to the floor. There’s no fucking way he’s seriously expecting you to be able to do that.

You see strands of his pink hair first as he pops his head upside down to peer down into the window, reaching his arm inside and outstretching his open palm to you, “C’mon, you won’t fall.” He pauses for a moment, flashing you a mischievous grin, “… Probably.”

You give him a weary and unconfident smile, “How reassuring.”

Taking tentative steps towards the window, you see his grin grow wider. You gently place your hand in his palm and he doesn’t waste a second, wrapping his fingers around your knuckles and squeezing tight, yanking his arm towards him to pull you closer. For just a mere second, the two of you were eye level as he hung his head upside down, your surprised eyes locking with his confident ones and his breathy laughter ghosting onto your forehead.

But just as quickly, his head dipped out of view. His low voice calls down to you from the roof as his impatient hand pulls you closer, “Put your foot up on the windowsill.”

You tentatively place your foot on the ledge, squeezing his hand tight to steady yourself as you shift your weight onto your other leg and pull yourself up to stand on the windowsill. His free hand quickly wraps under your arm, pulling you up and towards him, his arms wrapping tightly around your chest and waist as he pulls you into his lap with your back flush against him.

He leans his chin down on your shoulder, his breath fanning the side of your neck as he sarcastically whispers, “Almost dropped you there.”

A deep blush paints your face red. His legs are spread with your own planted in between them, his arms wrapped protectively around you and squeezing your body against his chest as he keeps you locked in place directly on his lap. You squirm under his hold and it only makes his breathy chuckle tickle your skin, his lips just barely brushing against your neck.

He loosens his hold on you for only a moment to pick the blunt off of the shingles, placing it between your lips while mumbling “Hold this” before his arms are tight around you again. He plants his feet against the roof and slides backwards, shimmying you both up to a flat section to sit more comfortably.

As he releases you from his grasp, you’re reluctant to leave. Lifting your hips from their home on his lap, you plop down onto the flat section of the roof next to him. He wasn’t kidding about this being his spot, there’s already an ashtray up here with cigarette butts sprinkled in the bowl. And you can’t really blame him for coming up here, the sky is orange and pink with clouds stretching thinly across the horizon, the city’s silhouette faintly in the distance, tall trees forming a barrier around the back of the apartment that feels safe and protected, it’s honestly really nice, peaceful.

Sukuna pulls his lighter out of his pocket, sparks sprinkling with each flick of the wheel until it holds a steady flame. He leans in close, holding the light against the end of the blunt that you held between your teeth.

“Breathe in.” His gaze is dropped to your lips, free hand reaching up to gently hold the blunt steady against your mouth with his thumb and forefinger.

As you inhale you see orange embers form at the end of the blunt, smoke rapidly filling your lungs and stinging the back of your throat. You can’t keep the smoke down, immediately hacking up a painful burning cough that only makes him snicker.

“Hm, you’ll get it eventually.” He brings the blunt to his lips and inhales a long hit, holding his breath for a few seconds before teasingly blowing the smoke into your face.

“Ugh,” You fan your hand in front of your face to clear the smoke, “That’s terrible. It tastes so gross.”

He smirks and rolls his eyes, flicking the ash into the small tray, “So dramatic, ‘ts not that bad.”

Your eyes are glued to his fingers, holding the blunt with his pointer finger and thumb and tapping ash away with his middle, the veins on the back of his hand gently protruding out and then settling back into place with each tap of his finger. As your eyes drift to the ashtray and you realize that there are only orange cigarette butts in the bowl, no snuffed out roaches from him smoking anything else.

You pull your knees up to your chest, tilting your head to rest your cheek on your legs when you look up at him, “How come you’re getting high?”

“Needed it tonight.” His answer was quicker than you expected, his eyes locked on the city lights shining in the distance.

“How come?”

His head doesn’t move, but his eyes flick to you. Wordlessly he holds the blunt towards you, the expectant look in his eyes and quirk in his brow telling you that he’s not planning to give you an answer until you take another hit.

You let out a small huff, taking the blunt from his fingers and taking a short drag, trying to hold the smoke in your lungs and keeping your lips sealed shut to try not to cough. Your attempt was futile though, your cheeks puffing out and smoke blowing out of your nose as your throat burned again.

He let out a small snicker at your misery, letting one of his legs lay outstretched across the slant of the roof while he bent his knee on his other leg to rest his chin on, “Brat’s working his first day at his new job tonight.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, your lips dragging down into a frown, “Brat being… who?”

He scoffs, like the answer to that should be so obvious, “My brother, the one you met.”

You hum in acknowledgment, but you’re still confused what that has to do with Sukuna wanting to get high, “What’s the new job?”

He blows a raspberry, tilting his head up towards the sky while he takes another drag, smoke echoing off his lips as he speaks, “Firefighter, been his dream job since we were kids.”

Realization clicks in your brain, making a smile creep onto your lips, “You big softie, you’re worried about him!”

“Tch.” He glares down at you, but his frustrated look only makes you giggle. The look in his eyes quickly softens, shifting to a look of amusement as he leans in closer to you and peers into your eyes. You let out a little laugh, opening your eyes wide to stare goofily at him and causing a smile to crack on his face, “Are you high already?”

“No!” You counter defensively, “You’re just… cute.”

Oh fuck, I’m totally high.

He gives you a lopsided grin, “You’re a terrible fuckin’ liar.”

You giggle and flop onto your back, lying flat on the roof, “Stop changing the topic! We’re talking about you!” You reach your arm out to point in his face, “You’re worried about him! You love him!”

“Ugh,” He gives you an exaggerated eye roll, wrapping his long fingers around your wrist and pulling it down out of his face, “I absolutely do not.”

You give him a toothy smile, poorly mimicking his deep voice, “Terrible fuckin’ liar.”

A deep laugh bubbles up from his chest, his gravelly voice sounding so breathy and happy, creases forming at the outer corners of his tired eyes. He releases your wrist from his grasp, planting his open palm next to your head and resting his weight on his arm to lean the slightest bit closer to you, his free hand bringing the blunt up to his lips as he tilts his head down to look at you with an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “So stupid.”

You can’t help but giggle under his gaze, the warm orange glow of the sunset reflecting in his heavy lidded eyes, a thin ring of crimson around his blown out pupils. His lips wrapping around the dwindling blunt and taking a long hit as the embers come alight. He leans down and gently blows the smoke into your face, making you squeeze your eyes shut.

He gently knocks his knuckle against your cheek to get you to open your eyes, gesturing the blunt to you, “Give me one more.”

You let out an over dramatic groan, covering your face with your hands, “No I’ll choke! I need you to baby bird it to me.”

He quirks his brow, a mischievous smirk curling on the corners of his lips, “Baby bird? Like spit it in your mouth?” He lets out a small chuckle. You part your hands away from your face to peer up at him as he takes another drag, holding the smoke in his mouth as he cups your chin to tilt your head towards him and leans down close to your face, smoke on his breath fanning your lips as he whispers, “Like this?”

Your mouth opens slightly in surprise as his lips are mere millimeters away from yours, gently exhaling smoke into your parted lips. Your cheeks burn red and your wide eyes stare up into his lazily lidded ones, already trained on you. You slowly breathe in the smoke, feeling him lean closer towards you, his gaze dropping down as his lips just barely brush against yours. Your eyes flutter shut, heart pounding in your chest as you feel his fingers trace their way from your chin along your jaw, tilting your head slightly to perfectly slot your lips with his-

But the moment abruptly comes to a halt as Sukuna’s phone loudly rings in his pocket, the ring tone blaring “I like big butts and I cannot lie!” as he freezes in place and both of your eyes shoot open.

“Pfft!” You throw your head back in laughter, your chin clocking Sukuna in the jaw as he shoots up straight and mutters curses under his breath, frantically fumbling for his phone in his pocket.

The obnoxious music quickly stops as he answers the phone, rubbing the sore spot on his jaw as he spoke with a hint of panic in his voice, “Yuuji?”

Even though he wasn’t on speaker phone, you could hear Yuuji loud and clear, emphasis on loud as Sukuna flinched the phone away from his ear as Yuuji yelled out the small speakers, “Guess who saved a cat at work today!”

You could see a look of relief wash over Sukuna’s face, but he didn’t let it translate into his voice, speaking in a low and annoyed tone, “I was hoping you’d die in a fire.”

Yuuji belted out a loud laugh on the other line, “Not yet! But don’t take it off your bingo card!”

A wide smile spreads across your face, yelling loud enough for Yuuji to hear, “You had him worried sic- mmph!”

Sukuna shoved his palm over your mouth, shooting a glare down at you as he spoke to Yuuji, “Ignore them.”

You tried to bite his hand over your mouth and he whispered “Fucking brat” down to you as Yuuji rambled about his first day at work, something about a cat being stuck in a tree and how he thought that was a myth but it’s totally a real thing. It quickly became clear that the moment between you and Sukuna had fizzled out, but he was probably just teasing you anyway right? It definitely meant nothing, surely. If Yuuji hadn’t called he would have just backed away and laughed at you or something.

He wasn’t actually gonna kiss you… right?

A/N: DONT KILL ME WE’LL GET THERE EVENTUALLY!! Anyway y’all like Yuuji’s ring tone I thought it suited him askakaka Dividers by @adornedwithlight

Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!!

[ellecdc]

DONT TEASE ME WITH PLATONIC BARTY AND BIG BRITHER SIRIUS STOP IM ON MY KNEES PLEASEE 🪩

okay so this accidentally ended up being almost 5.5k words??? whoopsie daisy.

this concept was a collaboration with @unstablereader and also intertwined a few requests for best friend Barty, big brother Sirius, and poly!moonwater hurt comfort!!

poly!moonwater x fem!reader who was bitten over the winter hols

p1 // p2

CW: Best Friend Barty (i.e., swearing, chaos, slight insanity), Big Brother Sirius (i.e., coddling, bad cop, certified dumbass), swearing swearing swearing, slight muggle blasphemy, description of wounds/blood/injury, discussion of Sacred 28 Pureblood Families, etc etc etc - hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending

Barty Crouch Junior was a plethora of dichotomies and contradictions. 

He was a good friend and a bad son. He was a smart boy who made horrible ideas. He was a rational person with unreasonable reactions. He was a menace and very reliable. He was a good lay and a bad boy. 

Barty liked that about himself though; he liked that no one ever knew what to expect when it came to Bartemus Crouch Junior. 

Though, he supposed to those who knew him, it would have been completely predictable for him to have stayed at Hogwarts over the winter holidays. Maybe he should have gone home – really surprised everyone then.

His nightly routine of trying to incendio Daily Prophet articles of his father with nonverbal and wandless magic was interrupted by an awkward thump on his dorm room door. 

“Come in?” Barty called awkwardly, unsure who might be at his door seeing as his friends were all home for the holidays and the staff here tended to avoid him like Dragon Pox.

The doorknob began to rattle but it sounded as if the person on the other side of the door was struggling to turn it.

“Salazar’s saggy balls. WHAT!?” He seethed as he ripped the door open, determined to teach whoever was stupid enough to bother him a lesson when he came face to face with you.

Except...except you were crying, and bloody, and so pale.

“Treasure!?” Barty squawked, awkwardly catching you as you began to slide down the door frame which you were leaning the entirety of your weight on. 

“Barty...I-” you started before a pained sob tore through your teeth. “I need help.”

“What happened?” Barty asked breathlessly, moving you from the door to his bed without your help after your left leg gave out on you.

“Barty...”

“What. Happened. Y/N?” He demanded.

“Barty, you cannot- cannot tell Reg and Remus. Pl- hnggh - please promise me you won’t tell them.”

“Tell them what, Treasure? What’s wrong!?” Barty pressed, beginning to panic when his bedding quickly became saturated with your blood. 

“Promise me!” You shrieked, your voice carrying the most clarity since you had arrived.

“Okay! I promise!” Barty agreed readily. You didn’t seem convinced, however.

You shakily held your pinky out to him and stared intensely at him. “Promise me that y-, that you will not tell Remus or, or Regulus.”

Barty looked between your eyes and your pinky before finally interlocking your pinky with his. “I promise I will not tell Remus or Regulus.”

More tears fell as you began pulling your long winter robes off. You were wearing a long sleeved shirt and long trousers, but Barty could tell most of the bleeding was coming from your leg. Your fingers were shaking too much as you unsuccessfully tried unbuttoning your trousers, so Barty silently asked for your permission before undoing the button and zip for you.

You pulled the pants to your knee to expose a large...werewolf bite on your left thigh.

“Treasure.” Barty breathed out horrified, looking back up at you with tears in his eyes. “What...what happened? No, I ... I can see what happened. How did this happen?”

“I...I just-”

And you passed out.

“No! No no no. Nononononono.” Barty chanted as he tried to rouse you awake.

“Okay Barty, come on, think. You didn’t achieve all twelve O.W.L’s for naught.” He berated himself, lying you down on his bed and pulling your trousers the rest of the way off.

He turned you onto your right side and tried elevating your leg to stop the blood flow after he realized a simple episkey was not going to close the wound.

He realized that the reason you’d been struggling to open the door was that your wrist appeared to be broken, and you’d been leaning onto the doorframe to keep your weight off of your injured leg. That he could fix with an episkey, so at least he wasn’t completely useless. 

His sweet, sweet Treasure. Bitten. By a werewolf!? Your parents...

Oh gods, your parents.

That’s why you were here.

You couldn’t go back home, not as a werewolf; your parents would kill you. The only thing worse to a Sacred 28 Family than a dead daughter would be a werewolf one.

Fuck. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck.

And why couldn’t he tell Lupin and Regulus!? Lupin was probably the only person who could actually help you right now. Barty hated that – hated that someone else could help you and he couldn’t – but he also loved that you had people who loved you and could help you.

Fucking fuck, he was supposed to be burning moving pictures of his father right now, not trying to bring his best friend back from the brink of death.

“That’s enough Treasure, you need to wake up.” He muttered, shaking you by your shoulders gently. When that still didn’t work, he cast a quick rennervate. 

You groaned in pain and tried rolling onto your back. 

“No, Y/N, you need to stay like this. I need you to tell me what happened.”

You moaned again and turned back towards him; eyes shut tight in pain. 

“I...I needed to leave I, I – ugh.”

“Okay, okay. So you left, that much I can understand. How’d you get bitten?”

“I didn’t, I didn’t know it was there until it was too late, Barty. I swear it. I was following the trail behind my-my house and it just appeared! I fell back- backwards onto my arm when it lunged and I apparated once I realized what was happening, but it was...it was too- too late.”

“Where were you trying to go?”

“The Potter’s.”

“And why can’t you go there now?”

You opened your eyes at that, and Barty felt his heart fall out of his ass at the amount of pain that spilled from your eyes that had nothing to do with any of your various physical injuries.

“Rem... Rem hates himself. He hates The Wolf, he ha- hates his lycanthropy; he thinks he is a m... monster and deserves nothing. Barty, he’ll hate me.” You broke into a sob at the end of your sentence and Barty was very close to joining you.

He didn’t think you were right at all, mind you; he thinks it’d be rather impossible for anyone to hate you, least of all Lupin who seemed completely lovesick for you and Regulus. He didn’t think it was worth your energy to argue with you about it though, seeing as he already pinky promised not to go to the lycanthrope or your other boyfriend about this.

He didn’t know what to do, though. He needed to close this wound and stop the bleeding, he needed to pilfer from the infirmary, he needed to pilfer the potions supply closet, and he needed to figure out how to help a werewolf. And he needed to do all of these things whilst somehow not leaving your side at all. 

“I’m tired, Barty.” You murmured quietly, startling him from his internal panic.

“You can’t sleep, Treasure. Not until we close this wound and stop the bleeding.”

He pulled out his third year DADA textbook to find the chapter on werewolves. 

“Dangerous creature this, loss of moral sense that, right then – powdered silver and dittany applied to a fresh bite wound.” Barty recited as he read off his textbook. He looked over to your wound, still oozing and bleeding, though the new angle and elevation did seem to be helping staunch the blood flow at least a little.

“Right... fresh enough I suppose.” Barty sighed, making you promise to stay awake long enough for him to raid the potions supply closet and the infirmary to get the necessary ingredients.

Barty had been feeling quite confident in his plans.

Except something was very, very wrong.

The dittany and powered silver bubbled slightly where it interacted with your blood and flesh but didn’t seem to be sticking to your wound at all; it seemed that it was just causing you to moan in agony as Barty uselessly tried spreading it over your leg.

“You’re sure it was a werewolf that bit you?” He asked again. Barty was certain that if you were feeling better, you would have kicked at him.

He wished you could have kicked at him.

“Yes, Barty.” You cried.

“Oh, Treasure, I’m sorry.” He lamented, putting down his bowl of useless silver paste and brushing sweaty hairs away from your forehead.

“Salazar, you’re burning up, Y/N.” He commented, cupping your heated and flushed face with his hand. 

“I’m cold.” You argued, awkwardly trying to pull at his bedsheets to cover your arms. Barty hated to add more layers on you when your fever was this high, but he couldn’t really bring himself to deny you, either. 

Unfortunately, it appeared that Barty needed help. 

Unfortunately, Barty made you a promise.

Fortunately, there were ways around that. 

Unfortunately, that meant having to resort to a fate worse than death.

“Oh! Hello there.” Mrs. Potter greeted Barty as she rounded the corner after being alerted by the house elf that there was a student at the floo. “Are you looking for Regulus?”

Barty adorned his most charming (and least maniacal) grin as he bowed politely to Mrs. Potter like the proper Pureblood he'd been beaten raised to be. 

“Euphemia Potter – looking as smashing as ever.” He said before returning to his full height. “Actually, I’m here for the lesser Black brother today.”

Mrs. Potter narrowed her eyes at his comment but pursed her mouth as if fighting back a smile.

“Am I to assume you’re referring to Sirius, Barty?”

Barty sighed in admiration. “Smart and pretty, Euphemia; how do you do it?”

“I’ll be right back, Mr. Crouch.” Mrs. Potter called over her shoulder as she left the floo reception room. Barty quickly pulled out the charmed compact mirror he had connected to a hand mirror which he had set up beside you before he left. You were asleep and shivering violently, but you were alive.

Help is coming, Treasure. 

“Oh.” Barty heard, causing him to close the mirror and look up to see a confused looking Sirius pausing mid-step into the room. “Sorry, I’ll go get Regulus for you.”

Barty scoffed derisively. “Oh, come off it Black – give the woman a little credit, yeah? I asked for you. Now let’s go.” He barked, turning towards the floo flame.

He turned back when he realized Sirius wasn’t following him.

“Hello??” He called sarcastically. “Did you not hear me? I said let’s go.”

Sirius looked Barty up and down and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Why in the hells would I go anywhere with you?” Sirius asked bemusedly. 

“Black!” Barty seethed. “I do not have time for this, we have to go now.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what this is about.”

Barty sighed and looked down to the hells for patience or possibly extra strong demonic powers to get through this conversation with Sirius. 

“Where is Regulus right now?”

Sirius considered Barty skeptically but answered, nonetheless. 

“Upstairs with Remus.”

Barty looked at Sirius at that. “Is it safe to assume he is helping him recover from last night?”

Sirius’ face fell and he levelled Barty with a hard glare. “What the hell are you on about, Junior?”

“Black, please believe that there is absolutely nothing in this realm that I’d rather be doing than sitting here asking for your help but I’m here doing just that.”

“For what?”

Regulus was here, and Regulus was helping Lupin, which meant that Lupin was also here with his supernatural hearing. Barty made you a promise – he would not tell Regulus or Remus what has happened.

“I need your help, because I’ve found a lost Treasure that seems to be in some Trouble.” Barty explained slowly, praying to every god that Sirius would pick up on his not-so-subtle clues.

Sirius’ eyes stayed narrowed at Barty before they grew comically in understanding. 

“Where is-”

“Not here.” Barty interrupted. “Grab your things and come with me.”

“I have so many fucking questions.” Sirius muttered as he stepped through the floo, somehow ending up standing in the Slytherin common room. 

“Like?” Barty asked in a bored tone.

“How the hell did you manage to connect the floo network to the Slytherin common room?” He started, realizing that it probably wasn’t the most important question, but it seemed to take precedence in his mind.

Barty turned to sneer at Sirius, though his steps never faltered as he sped towards what Sirius could only assume was his dorm.

“Really, Black? I tell you that your future sister-in-law is in dire need of your help, and that’s what you’re- you know what? I’m not surprised. The floo network is easy to manipulate so long as you know how to dismantle ancient wards.” Barty explained dismissively.

 Easy. Dismantle ancient wards. Sure.

“What’s wrong with Y/N?” He asked much more seriously. Most (though not all) of the contempt drained from Barty’s face as he stopped in front of a door. 

“She...she was bitten.”

Sirius just stared dumbly at the absolute last person he imagined he'd be spending his morning with as he let that information process.

He wasn't given much time, however, as Barty quickly opened the door and disappeared into the room, clearly unbothered to see if Sirius was following him in or not.

“Treasure? Hey, hey; it’s okay. Look? I brought some help, okay? You’re alright.” He cooed at a curled-up form on his bed – your curled-up form.

“Oh, Trouble.” Sirius breathed out in disbelief, surveying your shaking and battered body before his gaze paused on your exposed thigh – clear as day was a large canine bite, still bleeding. 

“Oh, my girl.” Sirius cooed, feeling like he might be sick at the sight of one of his favourite people in the world in so much pain. It was very different from post moon care with Remus; Remus was seasoned, he was prepared, they were prepared.

You looked like you were dying.

“What’s wrong with her?” Sirius asked quickly, shaking himself and trying to force himself into action.

“Other than the very obvious werewolf bite?” Barty sneered. “She has a fever that won’t quit.”

“Take the blankets off.” Sirius ordered, earning him a whimper from your form.

“S’cold, Siri.” You whined.

“I know, Trouble, but you’re burning up.” He replied apologetically, pulling the blankets out of your currently much weaker grasp.

Barty looked like he was just as heartbroken as you were at the loss of the warmth, but clearly agreed with Sirius enough not to argue. 

“Mean.” You pouted; eyes still screwed shut in pain.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He whispered, casting a quick auguamenti and glacius on a rag and placing it on your head, earning him another protesting groan from you.

“Why’s her leg still bleeding?” Sirius asked, eyes still on your face as he used the cloth to wipe away the sweat from your features. He quickly prepared two more rags and placed them on the back of your neck and your chest. 

“I don’t know. I followed the instructions from our DADA textbook on werewolves – three tablespoons of powdered silver mixed with four tablespoons of dittany to create a paste. It did nothing but hurt her and aggravate me.” He admitted, sounding horribly dejected.

“Where’s the silver from?”

“Slughorn’s supply closet.”

Sirius groaned. “That’s why. The school buys the cheapest ingredients they can to keep costs low. That won’t be pure silver.”

“Well, where in the hells are we supposed to find pure silver then?” Barty groaned. 

Of all the times for Sirius to not be at Grimmauld Place anymore – that place was teeming with pure silver.

Pure...

Toujours pur. 

“Regulus.” Sirius whispered no louder than a breath. You didn’t seem to hear him, your lucid moment clearly over; but Barty did.

“I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.” He explained plainly, causing Sirius to groan.

“Then what are we supposed to do?”

Barty turned his face to glare at Sirius. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “I heard you, Junior. So, what are we going to do then?”

Barty let out a long-suffering sigh. “I promised Y/N I wouldn’t tell Lupin or Regulus.”

Sirius’ brows furrowed and he cautiously lifted his hand to press the back of it to Barty’s head, checking for fever of his own. Barty aggressively swatted him away.

“Are you quite alright, Junior? Is this a stroke?”

“I need you to listen to me very carefully, Black. Okay? Are you listening to my words?”

Sirius nodded at him as Barty grabbed Sirius by the shoulders and stared imposingly into his eyes. “I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – promised that sweet, lovely Treasure you call Trouble over there, that I – Bartemus Crouch Junior – would not tell Remus Lupin or Regulus Black. I promised her.” 

Now, Sirius feels it’s important to note that it was currently maybe seven o’clock in the morning, and he’d only just stepped out of the shower after washing away a night of romping in the woods around Potter Manor with Moony as Padfoot to be told there was someone at the floo for him; in other words, he was fucking exhausted. And to add to that, he had one of his least favourite people tell him that one of the worst possible things happened to one of his favourite people. So, sue him for what he said next.

“I don’t understand.” 

“Fucking son of a mother fucking cunt, I swear to that fucking muggle-religion-wizard-guy-that-caused-the-whole-brew-ha-ha-in-that-big-ass-muggle-tome I will shave that fucking head of yours and wear your hair as a wig; I cannot tell Lupin and Regulus.” Barty spat, though somehow managed to keep his voice low enough to not gain your attention.

“Yes, yes, yes. You promised her.” Sirius lamented. “You p- wait... you promised her. You promised her.”

“Thank Merlin and Morgana.” Barty groaned as fell to his knees in exhaustion, clearly more than thankful that Sirius had finally gotten it. 

“I’ll be back.” Sirius announced and started towards the fireplace in the Slytherin common room in order to retrieve his brother. 

Regulus looked up from the pages of his novel to survey Remus’ form again. His boyfriend laid on his back with his head propped up on two pillows and his eyes closed as the soft morning light filtered its way through the sheer curtains and painted his features in its warm glow.

Regulus knew Remus was likely exhausted and sore and perhaps feeling awfully sorry for himself right now, but Regulus wasn’t sure he ever looked more beautiful. 

“You should take a picture; it’ll last longer.” Remus commented dryly, never bothering to open his eyes as a smile danced on his lips.

“Ha ha.” Regulus deadpanned, returning his gaze to his book with a blush taking over his face.

“You worry too much, love. I’m okay.” 

“I know you’re okay.” Regulus argued.

“Yet you still worry?”

“Yet I still worry.” 

Regulus heard Remus’ head turn against his pillow, and he looked back up to see Remus regarding him.

“Have you heard from her by chance?” Remus whispered as if fearing the answer he knew was coming.

Regulus knew it was you who Remus referred to; they’d been waiting quite impatiently for your owl for the past few days.

You had promised to write as often as you could - every day if possible – over the winter holidays. The last correspondence they had with you was four days ago as you told them of some family gathering at your home.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but he could tell he was caught at the disappointed sigh from Remus.

“No, mon loup. I’m sorry.” Regulus admitted.

Remus let out another sigh and leaned his head back down on the pillows, squishing his eyes shut as if the pain of not knowing how you were was more painful than the current aching in his bones.

“Hey, Reg?” Regulus heard his brother call from the door. 

“He’s awake.” Regulus called back simply.

“How’re you feeling, Moons?” Sirius asked, walking towards the end of the bed with his hands in his pocket.

“Been worse.” Remus answered.

“I...” Sirius started, cutting himself off with a sigh.

“Spit it out, Sirius. We’ve not got all day.” Regulus drawled and put his book down. He couldn’t stop his heart rate from picking up when he noticed Sirius’ discontent, however; sudden flashbacks of Sirius standing in Regulus’ doorway begging him to pack his things and leave with him bombarding his mind.

“What is it, Pads?” Remus asked, seeming to pick up on his friend’s anxiety as well.

“I need your help.” He admitted. “It’s...it’s Y/N.”

Remus sat up all too quickly and winced at the cracking of his back.

“What is it? Where is she? Is she okay?” He asked, trying to free himself from the bedding that Regulus had tucked him into hours earlier.

“No, well, yes...she-”

“Where is she?” Regulus whispered in horror.

“With Junior. At Hogwarts.”

Regulus relaxed slightly to at least know you were safe at Hogwarts and with Barty, though that raised more questions than answers for him.

“How do you know that?” Regulus asked, all the while Remus continued struggling to dress himself despite his various aches and pains. 

“Junior told me.” Sirius admitted, finally taking pity on his friend and helping him dress whilst his boyfriend sat their uselessly. 

“Why did he tell you? When did he tell you?”

“This morning!” Sirius barked, clearly growing agitated, “listen, I just-”

“What happened to her, Sirius?” Remus begged, finally taking a moment to catch his breath and stare at his friend imploringly. “What happened to her that Junior told you and not us?”

Sirius swallowed thickly before he answered.

“She was bitten, Rem.”

All colour drained from Remus’ face and Regulus sat stock still.

“Was it me?!” Remus asked through a choked sob. This seemed to snap Regulus out of his uselessness and he reached for Remus’ shoulder to squeeze it affectionately.

“No, no. Moony, no one was there last night. I swear it.”

“What...why do you need my help? What do you need?” Regulus asked quietly, standing to pull on his own jacket and retrieving his and Remus’ wands from the dresser. 

“We can’t get the wound to close, and she’s got a wicked fever that we can’t bring down. She’s barely lucid, she's lost an insane amount of blood, and the silver at the school didn’t work to close it and-”

“No, it wouldn’t.” Remus agreed breathlessly.

“Why not?”

“Too costly to give pure powdered silver to a bunch of students who make throw away potions – they only use what works in the brew but not in practice.” Remus explained, groaning as he stood and quickly transfigured his suitcase into a cane on account of his hip after the transformation. 

“So, you need pure silver? Like... the ring!” Regulus whispered, hastily ripping the Black Family signet ring from his thumb and passing it to Sirius.

“We need to go now. She can’t afford to lose any more blood, and it should have been closed immediately.” Remus pressed, making his way to the door albeit a little shakily. 

Regulus was sick with worry; for you, your life, your future, your family, for Remus and how upsetting this must be for him as well, but something still wasn’t making any sense.

“Why did Barty tell you?” Regulus asked as they stepped through the floo into the Slytherin common room, making a mental note to ensure that it was closed before the rest of the students returned from winter holidays.

Sirius grimaced slightly and turned to look at his friend who he was supporting as they followed Regulus to the dorm room.

“She...she made him promise not to tell you guys.” Sirius admitted.

Remus’ steps faltered and Regulus turned, ready to help Sirius in catching him, only to notice that he wasn’t falling but rather had stopped walking all together.

“Why wouldn’t she want us to know?” Remus asked mournfully.

“I never did hear why.” Sirius admitted, encouraging Regulus forward with a nod of his head.

The three of them entered the room to find Barty sitting on a low stool beside you with his pinky interlinked with yours. Your eyes were still shut tightly and your breathing was shallow, but Regulus could hear Barty talking lowly to you and your occasional responses. 

“I like that song about the fighter, the writer, and the ruler.” Barty murmured quietly to you.

Your brows twitched as you gritted out “it’s Soldier, Poet, King.”

“Ah, right you are, Treasure.” Barty responded, looking over his shoulder at the new additions to the room. “You always know everything.”

“How is she?” Sirius asked as he dropped the signet ring inside the mortar and pestle and traded seats with Barty who began to grind it into powder, and Regulus and Remus moved to stand near the end of the bed to take in your form.

“Hanging in there, Black.” Barty responded to Sirius, though he looked at Regulus as he said it.

Sirius must have noticed Regulus’ death glare being pointed at Barty and opted to intervene. 

“Hey, Trouble?” Sirius asked you gently, brushing some of your damp hair away from your forehead. You hummed in acknowledgement without opening your eyes.

“Why didn’t you want Remus and Regulus to know, sweets?”

You whimpered as your face morphed into agony, eyes finally opening to look at Sirius through fat tears.

“Remus will hate me.”

Remus actually whimpered at that, clearly itching to move towards you, but not wanting to interrupt you.

“Why would he hate you?”

“He hates werewolves.”

Remus’ head dropped in shame as Regulus rubbed soothing circle into his back. 

“But he loves you, Trouble.” Sirius pressed, watching Remus all the while.

“Not anymore.” You sighed in resignation, closing your eyes once more.

“Always, dove.” Remus insisted. You squeezed your eyes tightly as if you were trying to convince yourself that he wasn’t really there. 

“Do you hear me? I will always love you. There is nothing that could ever happen that would make me hate you, okay?” He carried on, slowly making his way to the other side of the bed in order to curl up behind you and pull your back into his front. 

You whimpered, though Regulus was sure it was less from physical pain and more in distress.

“What about Reggie?” You cried as Sirius continued rubbing his thumb across your forehead. 

“It’s almost ready.” Barty interrupted as he began measuring out the silver and dittany. 

“Reggie thinks the world of you, dove.” Remus murmured into your hair, looking over at Regulus imploringly. 

“You’ve got a lot of people who care about you, Trouble.” Sirius added. “We’re not going to let you do this alone.”

“It’s done, Treasure. We’re gonna fix you up.” Barty said as he made his way over, keeping his eyes trained on Regulus. 

“Dovey, this is going to hurt an awful lot, okay? But you’re so brave, you’re so brave and then you’ll feel better, okay?” Remus spoke into your hair, keeping you pressed tightly to his form as you began to struggle against his hold. 

“Regulus, you need to be brave for her.” Sirius ordered, looking as severe as Regulus ever remembered his older brother being. 

What could Regulus have ever done to make you think it was at all possible for him to feel anything but love for you?

How could Regulus ensure that you never thought such things again?

“I’m right here, amour. Okay? You’ve got four of us here who love you, we’re not going anywhere.” He pressed, moving to take over Sirius’ place on Barty’s short stool as Sirius positioned himself close to your feet.

“I don’t want to hurt.” You cried, breathing becoming slightly erratic as Remus added more pressure in keeping your arms pinned to your sides.

“I know, amour. It’ll be over soon, okay?” Regulus tried, brushing hair away and pressing his lips to your overly hot forehead.

“You’re so brave, Y/N. We’ve got you, okay? Such a brave girl, come on babylove, you’re okay.” Remus chanted, looking over at Sirius as he pinned your ankles to the bed and Barty transfigured a stirrer in an applicator.

“Please. I don’t want to.” You begged.

“You’re so brave.” Remus repeated, pressing his mouth to the top of your head as his own tears fell into your hair.

“Do it.” Regulus insisted, not wanting to prolong this anymore.

Regulus nearly dropped his wand in his haste to throw up a silencing charm around the dorm room as your screams bounced off the stone walls in time with Barty’s first swipe of the ointment. 

Regulus couldn’t hear the words spilling from Remus’ lips, but he knew that he was whispering sweet encouragements to you as he cried in sympathy. Sirius looked to be using all his strength to keep your legs pinned down as you struggled, and his eyebrows furrowed on your behalf as well.

“You’re okay, amour. You’re okay.” Regulus insisted for both of your benefits, watching as Barty applied the last of the paste to your leg.

“Now what!?” Barty shouted over your agonized cries.  

“Breathe dove, breathe. The pain will fade, just breathe.” Remus coached, rocking the both of you gently back and forth as you sobbed.

“You’ve done so well, amour, so well. Ma courageuse fille; you’re so brave.” Regulus praised, taking both of your hands into his and pulling them from Remus’ grasp to press kisses to your knuckles. “Tu as si bien fait, tu es la personne la plus forte que je connaisse.”

It took some time and many more encouragements before your sobs decreased into pitiful hiccups and whimpers as you looked towards Regulus. 

“You don’t hate me?” You asked pitifully.

Regulus used his thumb to wipe away the tears that were still falling as Remus caressed your arms.

“It never even crossed my mind, cheri. I could never; non.” Regulus insisted. 

“I’m so sorry, dove.” Remus whispered into your head. “I’m so sorry this has happened to you.”

“Remus.” Sirius warned. 

“Not because it makes her any less lovely, Sirius. But because she doesn’t deserve it.” Remus explained. 

“I’m scared.” You admitted timidly.

“I know, dove.”

“Lucky for you, Trouble, you’ve got some seasoned professionals here.” Sirius added, nudging Remus’ foot. 

“Can I start the animagus process now, Rem?” Regulus groaned, looking at Remus pointedly. 

“I guess it wouldn’t be fair to make you sit out on full moons now.” Remus relented – he’d always hated the idea of putting the two of you in any undue danger, but he couldn’t deny Regulus of the two of you, nor you of Regulus; not when you would need him most.

“Wait, wait, wait.” Barty interrupted, moving his skeptical glance between the four of you. “You’re telling me that animagi can romp around with the likes of werewolves?”

Remus nuzzled his face impossibly further into your head as Sirius chuckled. 

“Werewolves don’t care about animals. In fact, it makes them quite happy to have a ‘pack’.” Sirius explained.

Barty laughed conspiratorially. “Well, sign me the fuck up. Regulus, I’ll buy the first mandrake leaf; my treat!” He called as he grabbed his jacket and wand and headed for the door, likely heading to Hogsmeade for supplies in his excitement. 

“Moony is not going to like him.” Sirius proclaimed flippantly, finally falling into a chair in exhaustion after Barty was gone.

“It’s not just about him, anymore.” Remus responded, pressing a kiss to your head. Regulus could tell your fever was reducing, though your cheeks were still flushed.

You had a lot to discuss; what happened, why it happened, and where to go from here. But for now, Regulus was just happy you were alive, currently safe, surrounded by people who loved you, and agreeable to him running you a bath. 

[trulyumai]

Be My Distraction

pairing: emperor geta / wife! reader

Synopsis: Bloodshed wasn't in your interest. good thing you had your emperor there to comfort ill feelings.

Warnings: blood, violence, fighting.

Enjoy!

You’ve been married for eight months and twenty three days. It was rough in the beginning— to be belittled so easily and forgotten within every moment the two of you spent together. 

But over time, the jokes, the pradling eased. He didn't grab you as much, or as roughly as he once did. The scratches, the bruises faded with time, no more did they grace your cheeks, your arms. 

You learned early on that the man craved violence— sought it out in the coliseums every so often. Blood didn't seem to bother the emperor, in fact, the more that the maroon color graced his presence, the better. 

You, however, could do without. 

It was so hot- so stuffy that day. Humidity clung to your skin like an unwanted sickness. Sweat dabbed at your brow as you tirelessly fanned at your face, sitting just beside Geta himself. The crowd was ever so loud, jovially crying out, impatient for the show to begin. 

The emperor sat, knees spread with an arm bent on the rest attached to the chair. 

“This will be a good one,” Beside him, his brother; Caracalla hummed in agreement, giggling at the aggressive pushes and shoves the citizens gave to one another. 

You couldn't imagine how hot it must be down there, so close to the pit. 

Even up in the stands, you thought you might melt. 

“Wife, did you hear me?” 

Flinching you looked back at Geta, meeting his intense gaze upon your form. 

“W-What?” 

“I said, are you ready to be entertained?” 

The movement in your hand stopped, it was useless trying to fight such a heat. Not wasting a breath you answered. 

“Of course, husband.” 

Smiling, the man stood and raised his arms to the citizens. Screams erupted, they cried out in response to the man of such power, of such terror. 

With his arms back at his sides; the signal was given. 

The fight could commence. 

Roughly turning back to the box, Geta sat upon the edge of the throne, waiting to see the first death of the match. 

Not wanting to disappoint him, you stood straight, facing the clashing of swords, the crying of men. A particular soldier had ill timing with his slash, missing his foe entirely. It left him open for a second, but that was all the time that was needed. With a quick slash, the man's entrails dangled from his stomach, painting the ground a bright red. 

It was unbearable to see such a display of violence, to see these men's lives end right before your eyes. 

Your palm met with the skin of your lips, afraid of the rising bile you covered your mouth tightly, eyes gazing over with wet desperation. 

A distraction— you needed one and quick. How embarrassing would it be for the wife of the emperor to throw up her morning meal? 

In front of her own citizens? 

Nothing was working, the sounds, the clashing was too loud. The blood littered the field, running freely over the crevices with its own dirtied purpose. 

Your breathing was beginning to be too fast, too quick to catch up with. 

Think, think, think- 

“Wife?” 

Oh gods. Not now. You couldn't take the poking, the showing of bodies that lay limp and torn. 

Geta noticed the desperation in your eyes, the way you squeezed your mouth shut like a tragedy just struck before the coliseum.

“Wife. Look.” 

“Geta please-” 

A hand reached out, a mirage of colors graced your vision. 

His hand? 

His.. rings? 

“Oh…” you sighed, reaching out with both hands to grip onto the bigger one in front of you. 

“New rings?” you smiled. The bile no longer burned the back of your throat, with ease it bubbled down and the taste of your previous meal left instantly. 

“Indeed. See this one?” His pinky moved lightly, it moved up and down meticulously.

You nodded and the jewelry around your neck sounded out. The man couldn’t help but look upon it, with a smile of his own. 

The golden chain you wore, decorated in the finest stones lay about your image, resting just above your collarbones. He remembered gifting it to you not long ago, just upon the third full moon of this month's harvest. 

Your touch brought him back to the present. To your sweating form.

“This one brings good fortune.”

“Good fortune?” 

“Mmh,” he agreed, once more setting his eyes on the show in front of him. 

Couldn’t show everyone how soft he could be with his betrothed. His reign would lose its footing; a weakness she brought, they would say to him.

“What would you need that for, dear husband, when you have so much already?”

He could see you from the corner of his eye. Saw the way you stroked at his fingers with a light- loving touch. 

Your hands were much softer than his, he had to resist letting out a pleased sigh at such a discovery. 

“There can always be more.” He spoke low, distracted by the onslaught of men that paraded around the ground floor. 

“...I suppose.” The nausea was replaced with a wave of comfort. His heavy hand sat atop your lap, with your smaller fingers dancing across the new set of rings upon the man's digits. 

“Husband?”

Geta hummed. With no response, it meant he was starting to get impatient, itchy with anger. 

“Can I hold your hand here, for a while?” 

The emperor didn't say anything for a concerning amount of time. The comfortability was wearing off with every scream and groan that left the pit. Swords clashed on and on. 

Not wanting to upset your husband further, you tried to back up, to take the words out of the air. 

“Im sorry, forgive me-” 

“I suppose.”

Geta’s eyes never strained from the fighting and yours never left his image. But even from the side, you could see a softness that wasn't there before. The way his hand relaxed against yours. Ever so rough upon your oiled and cared for palms. 

That was all that needed to be said. 

You watched on, caressing Geta’s hands every so often in unspoken affection. 

A/N: we love a man that can calm down his wife with barely any effort. something about big scary men being soft with their wife has me in a chokehold and im sorry

[grapejuicestyless]

Leader Of The Landslide

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: John B was always your dad’s favorite. You always assumed it was because he blamed your mother leaving on you. Though he never outwardly neglected you, you always seemed to live in your older brother’s shadow. To everyone except one.

I remembered it from a young age, as early as seven, the way they all shunned me. My mother had been long gone, and my tired brain hadn’t held a single warm memory of her other than one.

We were at the chateau, as my dad called it, sitting on the old porch. Only, it wasn’t old then, it was new, and without the cigarette buds littering the once vibrant oak. There was an old wicker chair in the corner, pushed where the dusty couch now lay. It rocked slightly, not because it was meant to, but because it was broken. The distant memory of mumbled yelling and crashing from outside. Arguments that kept me and John B hidden under his covers until daylight broke. I loved that chair.

When I was young, my mom used to hold me in that chair. She never thought I was too old to be held, to be doted on by my mother. I still called her “mama” in my toddler years, pawing at the ends of her hair and the old fabric of her shirt. She sang soft melodies to me, songs I had never committed to memory, but songs I found in the simple things I enjoy now.

Popes dad says I had her eyes, and John B once told me that our dad thought I had her laugh. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t like me, he tells me he loves me, but he doesn’t like me.

Right before she left, I had been padding along the grain of the wood floors, my blanket dragging between my legs and my dad’s shirt were my makeshift pajamas hanging down to my ankles. A storm, ones we got often in the summertime as the air became warmer and pushed out the cold, had broken down a few large branches in the yard, and in an effort to find comfort, I ran to my mama.

“You favor that girl over our son!” My dad shouted, his voice thick with a simmering anger I had never heard before. I swore even then I could feel it through the walls.

“How dare you! They are my babies! I love those kids more than anything I have ever loved, and I love them just the same!” My mama argued, but her voice was softer, more conscious of her young ones who she believed were tucked into bed just a few feet away.

“I should have known you would have been this way. You haven’t seen them the same since they were born.” My mama added softly, her words bitter and heavy with an unspoken truth.

There was a heavy silence, and then, a crack. I wasn’t sure what it was, the sound of rings hitting skin and the soft clanking of another hitting the ground. I ran quietly, light on my feet as soon as the collision happened, crawling over to John B’s bed and pulling the sheets up to my chin. He didn’t even stir, so used to the feeling of my legs curling against his, expecting to wake up nose to nose when the sun would shine through his thin curtains. The arguments happened so often, it became rare that he wouldn’t wake up with me tucked into bed beside him, a nervous wreck and furrowed brows.

That was the last time I saw my mother, or heard her voice. I hadn’t known it then, but the way my father seemed distant that morning told me it was more than one of the usual fights. She wouldn’t be walking through that door again in a few days like she sometimes would, and she would never sing to me again.

I remember laying out across that old chair, pulling my small knees to my chest. Her perfume lingered on the cushion tied around the back, and her voice was carried over the breeze. She wasn’t coming back, and the pain in my father’s eyes and the churning of his stomach told me that much.

A few days later, dad called my brother and I into the living room to tell us how mama had skipped town, set off for a better life. I could tell they both blamed her, bother hated her secretly for it almost instantly, and being so young and impressionable, I nearly agreed, I nearly believed it. But I saw the way my father spoke to her and the way he had the ability to make her snap back. She deserved that life my father said she was chasing, even if deep down I knew it was a lie.

I never told my brother that dad was lying, though sometimes I did whisper it in his sleep like a prayer, like my truth would reach his dreams and taint his false sense into seeing whats real. But even as a little kid I wasn’t innocent enough to blabber on about how horrible our last living parent was. Especially not when our dad was to John B as what our mother was to me.

The chair was gone soon after, and my dad refused to tell me where he’d thrown it. At first I thought he had broken it, but he was a sensible man at times, and the extra cash lying around the kitchen told me he had sold it, and he had killed her memory too.

Years later, with barely any recollection of who she was, and lacking the foundations of which she should have built for me, sometimes I found myself curled up in that corner, my knees pulled to my chest tightly in the same ball I wound myself in all those years ago, and sometimes I found myself still calling out for her, like if she had heard how much I still needed her, she would sing for me one last time.

But I am much older now, and it has dawned on me repeatedly like some sick prayer that I am too old to be held, to be shown the affection of a mother and her infant, and I have been since the day she left.

Early mornings and stained glass windows, not from paints, but mold. Old rotten wood and dusty broken furniture. A safe haven to call home, a quiet room on the heart of the cut. My brother and I often pulled out patches of grass in the backyard, and sometimes we’d sit together on the hammock, see how high we could swing and loop our fingers around the rope to hold on.

Dad would sit inside, sometimes by the kitchen window where he could look out and watch over us, but he mainly spent his time inside of his office, which had at one point, been moms bedroom.

He used to leaning over the dirty counters, feeling the sun on his skin, letting the gentle breeze cool the back of his neck. But dad loved a lot of things, and unlike mom, he lacked a discreet touch about those things.

I guess it could be traced back to when my brother and I had just turned eight. A week after the party had rolled over, and glasses kept piling up around the house, sticky and stained a faint brown from his favorite cheap whiskey. Sometimes I tried to clean them up, and I would place them in the sink, but the colors never faded, not even after my small palms would bleed and callous.

Once, John B asked me what I was doing. He had been playing outside with Pope and JJ, and JJ had been screaming for me to come outside and be his partner in ‘signs’, our favorite childhood card game. Though, JJ and I often lost because we too, lacked the ability to be discreet in any situation.

I told him I’d be out soon, I was just doing the dishes and I’ll never forget the look on my dad’s face. The usually happy, calm man looked down at his feet with something I’ve later identified embarrassment. I never blamed dad for drinking. I figured if mom leaving was still hard on me after all this time, it must have been hard for him too.

He began using his coffee mug after that. The dark liquid less shameful in a cup that gave him the ability to not only disguise his problem, but to commit it at any time of day, because John B was too oblivious to notice, and I was too naive to believe he would.

“Bird.” Dad called for John B in the backyard, not caring how Pope and I were arguing nonsensical things over each other, waving our arms and pointing fingers. JJ happily mediated, laughing at our schoolyard taunts and remarks, encouraging us to snap back, though we all knew our words were nothing more than that, and we all loved each other a great deal too much to mean any of it.

If I hadn’t been so caught up in my own thoughts, maybe I would’ve seen the way dad was swaying. The way his knuckles were white around the frame of the door. His glasses were crooked, and his breath rotten with substances. But I didn’t notice, and so little John B happily walked towards our father with open arms.

Dad hugged him. He hugged his son and held back his tears like it was the most beautiful moment he could ever dream of. He held John B like he was precious, and not to deny that he wasn’t, to me my brother was worth more than anything in the world, but to my dad, it was something more than that, and to me, it felt that way too.

Because dad never held me, his daughter, who cleaned his dishes, and covered his tracks, and lied, and stole, and cried out for him, for some peace. He never hugged me like that. Because he blamed me.

He blamed me for my mother leaving because unlike my mother, he could never love my brother and I the same. He couldn’t love two of something if he barely wanted one. He never hit me, but he was cold, calculated, cruel when he wanted to be.

That day, at just eight years old, I sat in the grass with dirt under my nails and heavy breaths wondering would it would be like to feel the warmth of my father. Would it solve all my problems or only tear me apart further.

Because maybe if I continued to never feel the embrace of the man who gave me life, it would be easier to disassociate and pretend that it didn’t hurt. Maybe it would be easier to not like him anymore, and the unbearable guilt I carried even as an eight year old, would go away finally.

I didn’t even realize that I wasn’t fighting Pope anymore, or how my gaze had drifted over to watch how tenderly my dad held onto my brother, because I couldn’t even feel the way tears burned into my skin in slow droplets that fell into my lap.

JJ hugged me then, and it felt special, I felt special, because I knew even at that age that affection was a rarity in my life, and JJ, as much as I knew he loved me, was not a physical person. Still, he held me from behind while Pope spewed out apologies, swearing on everything he believed that he hadn’t meant a word. I could tell that he too, felt confused because we had gone after each other multiple times and never had I broken down.

In that moment it felt like I had gained something more than a hug from my father, but a silent acceptance with my best friends. Because soon, even Pope shut up and looked to where JJ’s eyes were glued, and even as flustered as he had been, everyone who sat in the dirt that day understood that no words that were thrown around had ever hurt me, nor did they even reach me, because what had made me so inconsolable was the fact that my happy brother received all the praise while I laid out in the lawn, crying until I dry heaved, ignored by someone who I only ever wanted love from.

“It’s gonna be alright, Y/n/n.” JJ mumbled quietly into my ear, and for the first time, I didn’t believe a word he said.

“Dad, dad stop.” I defended myself for the first time when I was thirteen. I was only half his height and he was triple my age. I thought that somehow, if I stopped enabling his behavior, he would get better. He would see how much I cared and he would finally love me.

That was the first time dad yelled at me, really yelled at me.

My dad refused to lay a hand on me, so when my friends ask if I was ever abused, I tell them no because it feels laughable to compare my psychological trauma to the welts on their ribs when they barely escape home.

When JJ asks me whats wrong, why my eyes look so puffy in the afternoon, after I stumble out of the house in the same clothes as the night before, I tell him I didn’t get enough sleep, because how do you tell your best friend who has been climbing through my bedroom window since we were nine that my dad hurts me too, you just can’t see it.

Dad called me a liar and a psychopath when I told him he was hurting me. He told me that it wasn’t true because he loved my brother and I and he would never lay a hand on either of us, not then and not ever. Dad says that he deserves respect, that I’m only a kid and he’s the adult so I better start acting like it. He tells me that it’s like a switch went off in my head ever since I became a teenager and all of a sudden I can’t stand him. But that’s not true.

The truth was even at such a young age, I always knew I would lay my life on the line for my dad. He meant more to me than I could ever express, because to me, he was the man who hadn’t left, even when he was given all the right reasons to bail out. So, for years I tried to cover for him, clean up and take care of everyone to show him what I could never articulate into a phrase of my affection. Still, he preferred John B’s half hearted sentiment over anything I could give him.

I wished so deeply that I was born different, that I wasn’t me. Because maybe if I wasn’t the clone of my mother, maybe then my father would like me more.

I guess the worst part of it all is that I can never be sure if my father’s anger could have been my mother’s, only given to him in her absence. Would his hands have been hers as I grew older? Would her hugs turn into the white knuckles wrapped around my throat? And would her songs become the vile words my father threw at me in drunken rage?

Maybe if I kept hiding behind the cruelties of his excuses for the way I cowered around him, then John B wouldn’t have to live in the same sense of shock I have been stuck in for a decade.

Dad never laid a hand on me, but he didn’t have to. He didn’t have to touch me to kick me in the stomach, all he had to do was show me how he was capable of being a loving father, but never put me on the receiving end.

He found time for John B, even as he buried himself in his work, searching for some gold that seemed far away and unimportant. He locked himself away while I slid food under the door, and I watched as he kissed my brother’s forehead and bid him goodnight, leaving me to sleep on the couch.

Even as a thirteen year old girl, an age so tender and impressionable, I felt so much more mature than I should have. I felt the effects of neglect I couldn’t wish on anyone. In my self pity, even after he gave me every reason to turn on him, I couldn’t hate him, so I began to hate myself.

“Dad, when was the first time you felt love?” John B asked one night. For the first time in a long time, we were all lying in the living room. My brother hung over my dad’s lap and my head resting on the floor as I sank off of the old dusty beanbag.

Dad thought carefully, his large hands splayed out against my brother’s small back.

“The day you were born.” He answered thoughtfully, and I watched as my brother’s eyes lit up.

I had every right to scream, to beg for an answer because the little girl trapped inside of me didn’t deserve this kind of pain from her own blood. But I didn’t. I sniffled and sat up, storming out of the house that I wasn’t even sure I could call home. How foolish I felt for ever believing my dad would ever love us the same. How stupid I felt for thinking that my brother, who inherited our fathers name, would never be preferred over my mother’s child.

“Y/n Routledge, get back inside now!” Dad yelled, storming down the porch to catch me. But I had become good at slipping away, and neglectful parents raise angry children.

“Go to hell!” It was the first time I swore at my dad. Even I shocked myself, because it had never occurred to me that I could do that.

“Why do you have to ruin everything?” He asked me, and it made me want to laugh because when had I ever done anything to him that wasn’t in good faith? “Just like your mama! Storming off!” My dad cursed under his breath, not really bothering to chase after me. How easy would it have been for me to have ran away.

I could live under a tree, a big willow with drooping leaves and heavy branches. I could make friends with the squirrels and be a good mother to them, the mother I never had, but always dreamed of.

“My mama was a good woman!” I cried out, suddenly overwhelmed with my freshly made emotions, ones that felt too strong for a new teenage girl.

“You know nothing about her! She left, I’m the one who stayed!” Dad yelled, as if it wasn’t painfully obvious.

I did something I had never done before. In all of my life, not once had I ever blamed my dad for my mom leaving. Not even after I heard their fights from when I was no taller than the notches in the doorframes, and not after he began to spend his paychecks on alcohol instead of new shoes for John B and I. I never blamed him because he always blamed me, and if it made me feel so worthless, then how could I ever do that to him?

“I don’t blame her!” I fought back, tears burning my eyes almost as hard as the back of my throat stung. “And I don’t blame you.”

I couldn’t stay mad at dad for more than a few minutes. I couldn’t blame him, and I couldn’t lie and say I did when I didn’t. Dad didn’t say anything then, so I turned on my heels in the dirt and I stormed off.

That night, I knocked on JJ’s window. I was wearing an old Star Wars t-shirt that he once called nerdy and my rainbow pajama pants. I looked thirteen going on seven, my cupcake slippers caked in mud.

But JJ didn’t pull on my braids like my brother did when we fought, and he didn’t poke fun at my pants. He opened his window and leaned out, his messy blond hair and tired eyes adjusting to admire my face.

“Y/n/n? What happened? Why are you here?” He asked, and I could tell he sounded a little on edge. His dad used to be discreet about how he dealt with JJ, but after middle school had began, he stopped caring as JJ stuck around the same kids he grew up with. So, I stayed as quiet as possible, not wanting any trouble.

“I just missed you.” A lie. The first of many lies I would spew out to my best friend because I felt too awkward to confess my own feelings and burden him when he had it so much worse.

“Oh.” His face lit up slightly, and I could tell my words made him feel nice. “C’mon, I’ll help you in. Wouldn’t wanna lose a slipper.” He teased with a toothy grin, a smart ass from birth.

I playfully smacked his shoulder, holding my breath until my feet hit his dirty floors. He held onto my arms longer than he had to, and I wondered if he could feel my body shaking.

“Don’t make fun, okay? I like my slippers.” I smiled, blinking away the old tears that I cried on the way over, and pawing at the scrapes from the bushes I cut through to get to his house quicker.

“I would never!” He defended softly, his arms raised in a scouts honor. “Cross my heart, cupcake.”

Sometimes I wished that JJ and I were older, I thought about it often. It kept me awake after long fights with dad, that I would one day save up all the money I could scrape together and take JJ with me. We’d go around the globe, just me, him, and open ocean surrounding us, and only the scars on our skin and in our heads to remind us of the past. But we wouldn’t care, because we would be there for each other, and the ocean would wash away the evil men on the shore.

“I wish I had a more appreciative daughter!” Dad yelled at me as he packed up his things in a hurry, chasing yet another lead on his quest for the gold, a passion driven by his valiant greed.

It hurt, but it would have hurt me a lot more three years ago. At sixteen, his words meant nothing to me, because at sixteen, I had finally come to terms with the fact that my dad simply did not like me, and that was okay.

So instead of sitting in self pity, or swallowing myself whole in a another bottomless spiral of self hatred and depression, I finally found the spark that was burning so fiercely somewhere deep inside of me.

“Fuck you!” The second time I swore at dad. “Fuck you and all your promises to get better!” I stepped forward, crossing into his office, which I swore to never go in, not only because it reeked of him, but because it was only a reminder of how quickly he let mom go, and how quickly he shifted the blame onto me, an innocent infant with no real chance to do anything to anyone.

“Fuck me? Oh, fuck me? Your father? I have done everything for you! I have given you the chances my own parents couldn’t give me and you are so ungrateful! I pray for a day you wake up and see the damage you cause around here!” Dad spat, pushing his glasses up on the bridge of his nose.

“Fuck all your pride and fuck all your prayers!” I stepped closed again, and my knuckles pawed at his shirt desperately, my eyes looking up at my father, who stood ten times taller than me, or so it felt that way. “All this time I waited like a fool, because you’re my dad. Above anything else, before the treasure and before the alcoholic, you’re supposed to be my dad!”

“Are you drunk?” He asked. I wasn’t, but I might as well have been with how quickly my mind passed through emotions.

Here he was standing in front of me, and here I was already done processing all my grief. He wasn’t dead, I could feel each breath under the palms of my hands, yet for years it felt like walking next to a ghost with how absent and withdrawn he always was from my life.

“All I ever wanted was a father.” I told him softly. “Was that too much to ask?” I deserved to know, but I should have known better.

My dad was an asshole, and he always would be. It was in his fashion that he would brush right past me, unfeeling and lacking empathy for his own daughter.

I felt angry. Before, I felt betrayed, sad, even embarrassed by him, and by how easily I let him get away with all his faults simply because he was my father and if my brother loved him, then there had to be some good in him. But there wasn’t.

Here he was, walking out of my life, the keys to the car that I paid for in his hands, dangling just as carelessly as he was with my life. I don’t know why that set me off, but it had. I heard my feet slap against the floors before I felt myself moving.

“Give back my damn keys!” I caught up behind him, snatching the carabiner from his dirty knuckles and pushing him into the wall. He wouldn’t hit, but god, had he made me wish I could. “I paid off that loan it’s under my name!” I stuffed the clasp into my back pocket tightly.

“You wanna leave, thats fine. But you’re walking out of my life if you’re going!” I breathed out heavily, the frames on the wall rocking back and forth from the force he hit the wood with.

“What is wrong with you? Where’s my sweet little girl I used to love?” My knuckles loosened on his shirt again, but my elbows remained pressed into his stomach.

“Loved? Like you ever loved me. You couldn’t have, because you wouldn’t have taken it out on me. You wouldn’t have gotten rid of her existence in spite of me. You wouldn’t have tossed that damn chair, and you wouldn’t have burned the things she kept for me!” I wanted to cry, but more than that, I wanted him so see how exhausted I felt.

“All I wanted was a fucking father, John.”

“And you got one, and look at you, you’re a strong young woman now!” He laughed bitterly, fighting against my shaky hold. He could barely look at me. I wondered if he was asked, could he even tell a friend the color of my eyes? If I were to wash up on the shore, could he even report the body? Would my grave lay empty simply because he hadn’t known me for years, and he never would.

“I was a little girl! I was a little girl, and I still am! I’m sixteen, dad! Stop treating me like some type of problem when I’ve been nothing but great to you!” I cried this time, pushing him harder until the wood splintered and my arms gave out. We both stumbled away from each other.

“All I ever wanted was a father, but for the first time, finally I can see you are the leader of the landslide.” I scoffed pathetically, staring him down with a broken heart.

I deserved to smash all the plates in the house, to rip off all the wallpaper and spray paint the rotting white paint bright blue just in spite of my father. But even though he wasn’t kind to me, I couldn’t ignore how good of a dad he had been to John B, and more than anything I ever held close to me, I loved my brother dearly. I wiped my tears and let dad walk out on me. Neither of us said a word.

He clapped John B over the back when he got outside, promising to return soon, this time with the promise of an unpromising fortune. He swore that he loved my brother more than anything, called him by the nickname he earned long ago, and left without saying another word.

I watched wordlessly from the front steps.

We lost the gold. Once or twice. The gold we had found first was a slap to the face, but having the cross stolen right out from under us felt so much worse, especially with Pope being tied into it on such a deeper level.

We all sat around the first now, our bodies tucked close together like a perfectly woven blanket, arms tangled around each other and weak laughter echoing around the smokey fire. We didn’t have much left to fight for, but to me, I felt deeply that in a more important way, we had gotten the gold, and we had been filthy rich all along.

The gold we’d found couldn’t be measured on a scale and dealt between the seven of us evenly, but unmeasurable and sought after by anyone who understood. Because in the end, we still had each other, and to me, this was family.

JJ’s blonde hair tickled the top of my forehead. We sat close together on the low swinging hammock in the backyard. His arms wrapped around me tightly, and my legs thrown over his lap carelessly. We talked quietly with Kiara about the little things. We found alternatives to seek out her dreams of preserving the ecosystem and to swim with the turtles.

It all felt so real, so domestic for a group of friends who were always running from something. It felt like the first time in a while I had time to stop and catch my breath.

“What are you thinking about, cupcake?” The nickname rolled nicely off the tongue, his crooked smile endearing to me, and his eyes sweeter than any doe I’d ever encountered.

I sighed contently, cuddling closer to the boy and soaking up his warmth greedily. Though we both never said it would loud, it always felt nice to share close proximity with someone we trusted so deeply. To feel affection for someone when we had grown up scarcely to it.

Dad had been dead for nearly two years now, and the truth was, I wasn’t sixteen anymore. I wasn’t the sad little thirteen year old who hated herself more than anyone else, who climbed through the blondes window at midnight in her muddy slippers, and I wasn’t the timid toddler who could barely walk without tripping on her blanket she dragged around everywhere for a pathetic kind of comfort.

John B took it hard at first. I wanted so desperately to tell him everything. He was my older brother after all, but most days now I felt like it was my job to look out for him. It always had been. He was my brother and I would never have let him suffer, but sometimes it was hard not to wish for once I could selfishly struggle openly and degrade the man he saw as his hero.

It would be wrong for me to taint that image of a dead man, a man I still believed John B was openly grieving, even if he said he was okay now. You are never okay after losing someone like that, no matter how evil, and I think he forgets that he was still my father, even if he never saw us in the same context as he saw him.

“Thinking about how comfortable you are.” I mumbled, stretching my limbs out tiredly along his tanned skin. I laid like a lap dog on his chest, my head tucked under his chin and my hands playing with the rough fabric of his dirty t-shirt.

“Not about John B?” He prodded quietly. JJ always knew when the wheels in my head were turning, just like I could always tell when something was wrong. It was like our super powers, to know each other so well we couldn’t hide anything.

“He’ll come back, he wouldn’t leave you.” He assured softly, his fingers dancing gently along my curved spine. It felt like oddly in times like these, the calm after the storms, that it truly would always be just JJ and I against the world. Like we were the only two people who truly understood each other, through the laughter and under the deepest scars littering our skin.

“I know. He’s my brother, he wouldn’t do that.” I agreed, and just as I was about to let the serenity of the lazy swinging of the hammock lull me into a sleepy haze, the crunching of boots on leaves alerted me elsewhere.

There he stood, his clothes still grimy from the tropical heat and wet mud from Barbados. His hair was stuck to his forehead in the same curl pattern from a few days ago, but the deep rooted brunette seemed to become a shade of dirty blonde from all the harsh sun. His skin was tanned and covered in sweat, but he was still my brother, and he had finally come home.

I sat up quickly from JJ’s arms, pushing off of his chest with so much force, I felt him bend at the waist and let out a puff of air. I shouted an apology before wrapping my brother in a bone crushing hug, relief filling my stomach and the unease dispersing finally.

“Where have you been!” I pushed him away with a smile, I didn’t even notice the seriousness in his gaze as he called out for me softly.

“Are you crazy? Staying behind like that in a foreign country?” I laughed breathlessly, my eyes searching his face and settling on his lack of a smile.

“Y/n/n.” He called out again softly.

“What? Whats wrong?” I breathed out, my smile fading slightly into a dimmer smirk, confidence slipping from my face into a deep furrow between my brows.

“John B, what happened? Did someone hurt you…d-did-“ My happy touch became a panicked grip on his clothes, my knuckles white and face pale as I searched for answers.

“Y/n.” He cooed calmly, the ease between his eyes and brows calming the pace of my breath. “I found him.” He said with a soft smile.

“What?” I breathed out. “Who?”

I racked my brain for answers, mulling over every possible explanation for what could have made me stay behind, leave behind all the good that had surrounded him for the past few years, and the good that would continue to grow with him.

“Don’t tell me you forgot your own dad?” An old voice called out from behind the brush, long greasy hair and an un-groomed bears covering a good portion of his old face. From his glasses alone I could see who it was, never mind the voice that often haunted me even in my sleep, the ghostly presence that lingered even as I slept on my own.

He was a poltergeist haunting my life, torturing my soul until I bled out completely blue. Had the punishment of forcing a child to clean up his mess for over a decade not been enough karma for all the bad I hadn’t done yet? Would I forever be stuck in the broken glass of his aftermath? How much longer would I have to hide behind the shell of who I once was just to please those who don’t yet know about who I am, of who I could have become?

I decided then I couldn’t do it, and I let go of my brother, and I let go of my pride.

“No.” I spoke softly, looking between the boys. John B looked more and more like dad every day.

I watched my brother’s face crumble in confusion, my heels dragging against the dirt, I backed away like a scared dog, mo longer the eager retriever with a bird at the door. My tail was between my legs.

“Y/n/n, it’s dad!” John B gestured like it would click for me, but that was not my father. Maybe by blood, but he would never be more than that to me, just evidence that linked me back to John B.

“No, I-I can’t.” I tried to explain through staggering breaths, choking out my words like tranquilized venom.

“I know it’s a lot, but everything’s going to be the way it was.”

My back hit JJ’s chest, and for the first time in the last few seconds, the ringing that blocked out my brothers bargaining seemed to fall deaf on my ears, and all I could hear was the sound of my heart beat dying in my chest.

“No, you don’t get it.” I cried out, though my eyes felt dry. “You don’t get it and you never will!” I begged silently for him to see the way the spark seemed to die as soon as dad came back, the way that my shoulders slumped and the confident young woman I had become faded back into the teenage daughter who wished for nothing more than to run far away from here.

“Y/n, come on, don’t be like this.” Dad tried to reason, like it was his say to decide how I would handle his return, like he could decide when I stopped feeling the effects of his abuse, because that was a word I had learned to call it, because that is what it was. Abuse.

“How dare you!” I shouted, anger making my skin hot. I felt queasy, like the world was crashing down on me, betrayal hot on my face. He didn’t know, my brother didn’t know because I protected him from it.

Couldn’t he ever notice how much happier I seemed after dad left? How I finally started living for the moments between us instead of for the times when I could go to sleep, where I could quietly call out for our mother who I didn’t know.

JJ knew, of course he knew. He knew by the time dad left. I’d confessed it all in a drunken ramble in the backyard after he commented on how happy I seemed, and though I laughed when I told him, neither of us found it funny. He apologized for making me feel like my problems were minuscule compared to his, but I assured him it was my own self doubt, and never his own actions. Neglectful parents raise insecure kids.

So if my best friend had known, if he could see just how happy I was without the burden of my father’s blame, how could my other half not see it? My own DNA? It led me to believe he was neglectful of me in his own ways, pushing aside the obvious signs of my own struggle just for his own benefit, for the gain of a relationship with the father that severed ours long ago.

“How dare you come back here after all the shit you put me through!” I cried, and I hit him. I hit him in the chest and I watched as he kept his ground, his shoes not even sliding against the mud. I had grown weaker without his constant fighting, and it showed in just how quickly the flame flickered out.

“How dare you come back and expect me to just be okay with it when all you’ve given me is years of therapy that I can’t afford!” I hit him in the jaw, and this time, I felt a pair of arms pull me away, my hot tears burning their tan skin. I kicked and I screamed, and my brother dragged me off until I couldn’t reach him anymore.

“You’re a piece of shit! I owe you nothing!” I pointed at him, staring him down as he rubbed the quickly blossoming bruise on his skin, his beard covering the welt almost entirely. The mark didn’t make me feel better at all, and instead, I only felt more pathetic.

“I gave you everything!” My limbs fell limp, all fight leaving my body as my tired joints ached, my head falling onto JJ’s shoulder. The boys passed me off like some kind of child, and looking at the man who tormented me my entire youth, I felt just like the timid child once again, like all my growth meant nothing.

The bright moon was replaced with the yellow glow of the kitchen lights, clouds traded in for floral curtains that hung crooked over the windows, and the cool grass fading into hard wood beneath my feet.

“Y/n, hey…” JJ cooed, his hands brushing against my shoulders.

“I just…fuck…I couldn’t do it. I don’t know why I hit him, I don’t know, I just-“

“Y/n, cupcake, hey, baby,” he called for me again, a plethora of nicknames tumbling from his lips that I had never heard him call me before, but all that held a genuine affection in them. I stopped my senseless rambling at the tenderness of his touch and softness in his voice.

“It’s okay to not be okay.” He affirmed quietly. “You earned your anger, it’s okay.”

I nodded, my gaze drifting from just beyond his shoulder were my brother stood dumbfounded with my father, looking at him with a mix of question and anger towards the man that he once saw with stars in his eyes.

“Jay, I don’t know what to do.” I confessed quietly, feeling like we were ten again, sharing secrets through a game of telephone, just the two of us stuffed in the corner of my bedroom at midnight, my father unaware that the blonde was still in the house, let alone snuck in my room.

“That’s okay.” He nodded again, and this time his palms molded against the apples of my cheeks, thumbs brushing away my stale tears.

“It’s gonna be okay, we can run, or we can stay and kick him out, or we can do nothing.” I focused on the way he said each option with the use of we, because in our minds, we always escaped hell together.

“Can we just stay here for a little longer?” My eyes found his, and I saw the way his flickered down in a way that felt too intimate for just best friends.

“We can do whatever we want, it’s you and me against the universe, cupcake, and we’re winning it.” He promised.

And just as I always had, I believed every word he said.

[porcalinecunt]

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆!

🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩 dating two vigilante’s is already a mouthful, so much so, you’re not too shocked when you and jason give dick a little treat during his patrol ~♡

⋆˚࿔ FEATURING . . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ JASON TODD & DICK GRAYSON X MALE! READER

° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . cw — ftm!reader, open relationship [dick grayson], cuckholding, phone sex, facetime, masterbation, some degradation, cumshot, jason is a hoe and dick is a shameless cuck.

[・:。author’s note ! 「 ✉️ 」・𓂃 ࣪˖ went off the rails with this one ngl, was kicking my feet the whole time too (*ﾉωﾉ) if willing, i’ll make a pt 2 for yall <3

still nothing yet.

dick grayson sat on the edge of the Wayne Industries building, gazing upon Gothem from an eagle’s eye. seemed like the criminals he usually decends upon decided to take it easy tonight, barely making a peep besides the typical bar fights and runaway children rebelling against their parents.

but it didn’t bother him much, after all, his patrol was nearly over with bruce and cass already out ‘n about the streets. dick will finally go home, to you and his stubborn brother jason fuckin’ todd.

none of you had any clue how the things went so off the rails, starting when you suggested to your boyfriend that you wanted to try and open the relationship. dick, while hesitant at first, decided to give it a go. surprisingly, it went pretty smooth. dick went off seeing other people just like you were, yet always coming home to each other just like before.

until, someone decided to take his golden opportunity.

it wasn’t a secret that jason had the hots for you, always taking the chances to talk to you while dick couldn’t grab his attention for shit as the vigilante was too lost in his conversation with you. “dick’s a lucky one alright..” he’d say so shamelessly.

so lucky, jason hops on your ass the moment he got a hint of your open relationship. you didn’t even stop the man and niether did dick, as things quickly escalated between you and the red hood. tonight being no exception.

rinnggg! rinnggg! dick’s phone jingles to you calling to facetime him, he picks up expecting to see your pretty face greeting him. and he did!

“hey prin!—“ “oh..oh fuck!”

there you were, on your back with cum already splattered all over your stomach, you’re whole body rocking up whatever soft surface you laid on from the unseen stranger’s cock pistoning in and out of your soaked cunt.

“sorry big bro, couldn’t wait another—shit!—second for ya..”

jason’s voice rasped into the speaker, drowning out your moans. dick stared, jaw agape and pants tighter then he remembered. despite listening to your hookups, he never actually watched you get your back blown out by another man. a high pitched whine snapped him back into reality, now you’re staring right at the camara with teary eyes and swollen, wet lips.

“nghh..dick..p-pwease come home! need you to..”

another harsh snap of jason’s hips knocked a moan out of you, as he grabbed a fistful of your hair and forced your face back towards the camara. towards dick. “need him to what? c’mon [name], sing it for dickie!”

he mocked as dick already shuffled his way into the staircase, frantically fishing his leaking cock out as you clenched around jay’s girth.

“fuckkk..jason you son of a—“ dick hissed, fucking his fist to the sight of your squirming in orgasm. your knees threatening to snap together, your face flushed in embarrassment yet arousal and those syrupy, pathetic eyes staring back at his. a sight straight out of some fucked up porn for a guy with a cucking fetish.

“woah there! look at that dick..i think you’re little boyfriend’s into this, right? you brazen little minx?!”

jason’s breathy laugh of amusement harmonized with your hiccups and sobs as you creamed all over the red hood’s cock, his girth wet and coated in white as he slowed his thrusts down. dick, turned on yet aggravated that another man made you cum, threw his head back against the wall as he reached his own orgasm.

“[name], baby..look at me, please, look at me while i cum..! shit!”

dick let out a broken groan as ropes of white landed on his phone screen and onto the floor, yet he still was hard as a fucking rock. what didn’t help was that when he looked back at the facetime, you were already on all fours, ass up with your leaking pussy ready to be fucked once again.

“you might wanna hurry up, or i’ll fuck him raw again.”

jason chuckled as dick sprinted through the dark sky, already around the corner to get some well deserved payback. see who’s laughing still once you’re stuffed full of your man’s cock with the paramour watching.

© porcalinecunt 🪽ᯓᡣ𐭩ྀི do not steal, translate, or use my work and claim as your own.

[cupidbedsy]

𝗰𝘂𝗿𝗯𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗽𝗶𝗰𝗸𝘂𝗽 ; 𝘫𝘩86, 𝘭𝘩43, 𝘲𝘩43, 𝘵𝘻11, 𝘤𝘤22 ୨୧

➪ summary: after being stood up, y/n was planning on just spending her night crying on the curb before she went home. that was until five boys showed up and took her out.

➪ warnings: reader gets stood up, mentions of cheating, trevor is such a flirt, reader has chemistry with all five of them, definitely typos/not proofread

➪ word count: 5.3k

➪ file type: new fic

➪ sunny's notes: the first fic since i've left. guys you have no idea how in love i am with this. i got this idea based on a tiktok (at least the first part was, the fair part was all me) but i love this so so so much and i hope you guys do too. okay two things that i am willing to do with this, write and give you guys the letters each of them write and/or a part two where she gets together with one of them (who, you let me know)

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

nhl masterlist || taglist || navigation

She hadn't meant to end up on the curb, mascara streaking down her cheeks as the city buzzed around her, but here she was, wishing she'd never agreed to the date in the first place. She shoved her phone roughly into the pocket of her jacket, curling herself into it further. She turned her attention to the cracks in the sidewalk, tracing the lines and picking at the grass that grew out of some of them. 

When she got bored of that she wrapped her arms around her knees and just buried her head into them, listening to the cars passing by and the distant music from the bar a couple of buildings down. She could hear muffled laughter and talking drawing closer but she was too distracted to care. 

Meanwhile, the group of guys was walking down the sidewalk laughing about a joke one of them had said. They had just been wandering around trying to figure out what they should do that night. It was Luke who spotted the girl first, he paused once his gaze landed on her. At first he thought nothing of it, merely shrugged it off as just someone who was drunk way too early into the night. 

But as the group neared closer, he could hear the soft sniffles and immediately reached his hand out to stop Jack, who was walking beside him, “What?”

Jack raised his eyebrow as he followed Luke’s gaze to where the girl was sitting. He looked back at his younger brother and then back at the girl, “What is it?”

“She’s crying, dumbass.”

The conversation halted the other three’s movements, their laughter slowly fading. They made their way back over to the two, making a little huddle as they discussed what they should do, “Should we do something?”

Quinn crossed his arms, slightly worried about the girl even if she was just a stranger. He listened to the others talk before walking up to her, ignoring the group’s sounds of protests, “Hey.”

The girl jumped slightly, rushing to wipe the tears from her face as she looked up at him, “Hi.”

“Are you okay?”

She looked back down, eyes fixed on her sweater covered hands, before she mumbled, “I’m fine.” She picked at the loose strings coming from the edge of the sleeves, oblivious to the looks and mouthed words the boys were exchanging. 

When minutes had passed she finally looked back up to see the five now completely surrounding her. She could tell they had been planning on going out somewhere, probably having a lot more fun then she would’ve had even if her date had shown up. A few of them sent her an awkward smile while the one she had talked to and one of the taller ones sent her genuine ones. 

“We didn’t mean to bother you,” Luke said, “We were just wondering if you were okay.”

Y/n nodded, “I’m fine… just a bad night, I guess.”

Trevor raised his eyebrows, “Just a bad night?” Jack hit him in the stomach and smiled at the girl apologetically, “Sorry about him.”

She cracked a small smile, the first one since she arrived at the shitty bar two hours ago. Cole took this as an invitation to offer what they had been talking about earlier, “We were going to go get some pizza, do you want to come with?”

She moved her eyes to each one, all of them now having a smile on their face, a sincere one. She blinked, slightly surprised at how willing they were to offer her to come with, “I don’t want to ruin your night…”

“You wouldn’t be ruining anything,” Trevor chimed in, “We were just figuring out what to do anyway, no plans whatsoever.”

She hesitated, still unsure, but as she looked up at them she  couldn’t deny that going to get pizza with five random guys would be better than sitting on the curb alone in the cold. She nodded and whispered, “Okay. Pizza sounds good.”

Luke flashed a grin, holding his hand out to her, “Come on, let’s get out of here.” 

She took his hand, using it as an aid to stand up. The four immediately fell into step beside them, making small talk with y/n as they made their way down the street. Luke never strayed far from her, occasionally tightening the grip he still had on her hand. 

“What’s your favorite kind of pizza?” Cole stepped closer to her, leaving Jack behind to continue talking to Quinn. 

She shrugged at first before speaking softly, “Just cheese.”

Trevor came up behind her too, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he pushed Luke out of the way, “Plain cheese. My kind of girl.”

She laughed at his comment, catching her footing as Trevor leaned on her. They all continued their walk to the pizza place, stepping in and immediately being hit with the smell of pizza. THey found a table near the back and sat down, placing their drink order with the waiter that came by. 

“So, what had you sitting on the curb crying?”

She tensed slightly, not sure if she should actually tell them but she looked at all of their gazes and noticed how genuine all of them looked so she spoke up, “I was supposed to go on a date tonight. But he stood me up.”

They all collectively scoffed, “What an ass?”

“He doesn’t know what he was missing out on.”

She laughed, “You guys don’t even know me.”

“So? It doesn’t take a genius to figure out you’re a good person.”

Quinn, who had noticed the sadness still lingering in her eyes, inserted himself into the conversation, “I’m assuming that’s not it?”

She smiled sadly, “It would’ve been my first date in a month… since my ex cheated on me.”

The five of them stared at her with wide eyes, “No fucking way.”

“Yep.” Before anyone got a chance to say something, the waiter came around and handed out their drinks before taking their pizza order. 

The waiter walked away and she immediately said something before they could, “So what about you? Who are the five guys that mysteriously decided to take me under their wing for the night?”

“Well I’m Jack, this is my older brother Quinn and my younger brother Luke. And these are my best friends Cole and Trevor.”

They all waved as Jack said their names, smiling awkwardly in return. They all slowly got to know each other, y/n finding out they all played hockey and which teams they played on. She got told many childhood stories, especially about the three brothers since they had known each other for the longest obviously. Eventually, they got their pizza and continued their conversation as they ate. 

When they were done they slowly headed out the door, paying for their meal beforehand. They all stood outside the pizza place and exchanged glances with one another, “So now what?”

“Well, I should probably head home…”

“Nonsense!” Jack screamed, “Come on let’s go do something. You still need some cheering up.”

“Thank you but I don’t want to impose more than I already have.”

They all shook their heads, “Nah, come on. Let’s go to the fair.”

She was hesitant once again but she saw all of their pleading looks and gave in immediately, “Alright fine. Let’s go.”

The five of them cheered and immediately took off down the street, y/n’s laughter filling their ears.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

They six arrived at the fair, y/n looking around in awe. It had been a while since she’d been to a fair or carnival, the bright lights overwhelming her in the slightest. She followed behind the guys, not knowing where exactly she, or they, were heading. She watched from behind them as they hit each other playfully and laughed before Cole fell behind and walked alongside her, “Hey.”

“Hi.” She looked up at him and furrowed her eyebrows, “What’s up?”

“How much do you like rides?”

“Depends on which one.”

“Ferris wheel, swings, tilt-a-whirl.”

“Ferris wheel it is.”

Cole called out to his friends, “Hey! We’re going on the ferris wheel. We’ll meet up with you later.”

The other four waved him off and y/n smiled at him, “Lead the way Caufield.”

Cole practically dragged her in the direction of the ride, hearing her laugh behind him. She squealed as she almost ran into people, yelling out apologies as they passed by. He never let up, continuing his fast paced walk, or run as y/n called it, through the crowds. She told him to slow down multiple times and even then he would only slow his pace in the slightest.

Once they finally arrived there, she panted, “Jeez. Are you trying to kill me?”

“No! I was just really excited. Now come on before the lines get too long.” She nodded and continued her pursuit after him, managing to get in line before the crowd started to gather. 

Cole grinned at her as they stood in line and y/n couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. Cole looked at her and his grin turned crooked, “What?”

“Has anyone told you how contagious your energy is?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes.”

The two continued to stand in silence, y/n gazing around at the multitude of booths that surrounded her. Some were selling food, deep fried twinkies or churros, she made a mental note to come back later to satisfy her sweet tooth. Others were selling trinkets or shirts or bracelets. She looked around at all the people, some little kids bouncing up and down with happiness as they held their parents hands, a group of teens who were taking pictures on a polaroid camera, and a couple who were holding hands and wearing matching t-shirts. Her smile quickly faded from her face and turned into a frown.

Cole noticed the sudden change in her demeanor and he didn’t let it last long, “So, you’ve ever been on a ferris wheel.”

She looked back at him, smiling softly, “Yeah, a few times, but it’s been a while. I forgot how much fun fairs were, I used to go as a kid with my family.”

“They’re the best, especially at night when you reach the top and can see almost the whole fair from up there. Magic or something.”

“Magic huh?” A teasing smile played on her lips as she nudged him. 

“Hey! Don’t judge me. It’s true.”

She just continued to smile as she faced forward, watching as the line continued to move quicker and quicker. Before she knew it, it was her and Cole’s turn to get on, the two of them quickly sitting in their seats and watching as the worker closed the cabin door. It was just Cole and y/n  in there, sitting across from one another. 

“What’s your favorite part?” She looked over at him with curious eyes.

He smiled once more before answering, “When you get to the top and are lucky enough that that’s where it stops you.”

She nodded in agreement before looking out the booth, “That’s my favorite part too.”

The two fell into a comfortable silence as the wheel took them around twice before finally stopping at the top. Her breath hitched as they stopped, not expecting it in the slightest. She couldn’t help but think back to Cole’s words earlier, it was truly magical. Every noise seemed to fall deaf on her ears as she gazed out at the lights shining brightly, the mass of people running around below her. 

“I told you.”

She hummed as she looked over at him, “Yeah you did. And for the record I never said you were wrong.”

A few moments passed before she spoke again, “Thank you… for this, for tonight.”

“No need to thank me, I’m glad we ran into you.”

That’s when the ride started to move again, bringing the two of them back to the ground. The ride worker smiled at them once more as they climbed out and waved goodbye before helping the next group of people in the car. Cole and y/n laughed as they stumbled down the road, his hand brushing up against hers. The two blushed in unison, looking down before continuing to walk down the street. 

“Want to go find the others?” Y/n nodded but slowed her pace in the slightest, “But let’s take our time, hm? We’re not in any rush are we?”

Cole grinned again, “Not one bit.”

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they finally found the group of them, they were in the part of the fair that hosted a majority of the carnival games. Jack swung an arm around her, “Well look who’s back. The girl of the hour!”

She blushed again as everyone’s gaze fell upon her, “Hi.”

“So how was the ferris wheel?” Trevor teased as he took a sip of his drink, his raised eyebrows still visible from behind the cup.

“Good.”

“Mhm, what y/n said.” He glared slightly at Trevor but kept his cool for the most part. 

“Haven’t been on a ferris wheel in a while, it was fun.”

“I bet,” Trevor mumbled again and received a smack on the head from Quinn. 

“So, what do you guys want to do next?” Luke interrupted, slightly ticked off from both Trevor’s antics and the blush that was on Cole and y/n’s face. 

They all looked at the girl’s face as her eyes wandered up and down the street awaiting her decision. Her gaze finally landed back on them before she spoke, “Who’s good at games?”

Four of the five of them stepped back immediately at her words leaving Luke the only one standing, “I guess that’s me.”

She took ahold of his hand and dragged him down the way to one of the games, Luke only able to send a wave quickly as he stumbled after her. He watched as she talked animatedly about the carnival games, something along the lines of never being able to win one. Something clicked in his brain and he knew he wanted to win something for her. 

They finally reached one of the booths, the two of them coming to a stop immediately, “Do you think you can win?”

She looked up at him with hopeful eyes, “I’ve been trying since I was a kid.”

He nodded, a small part of him knowing there was a chance he wouldn’t be able to but he sure as hell was determined to win. She watched as he stepped up to the worker, handing her a few bucks before picking up the miniature basketballs. 

One after another he missed but his confidence never waivered even as he continued to hand the worker money. After the third try, y/n stepped up and placed her hand on his arm, “Come on, Luke. It’s useless at this point.”

“One more. I promise.”

She relented and allowed him to hand the worker more money before picking the basketballs up again. This time, all the ones he threw made it into the wooden baskets and he cheered before bringing her into a hug and pointing up at the prizes, “Which one do you want?”

She smiled up at him, “The purple cow. Please.”

The worker nodded and took it down before handing it to the girl who beamed as she took it into her arms, “Finally. After 18 plus years.”

He laughed at her, watching as she played with the stuffed animal’s floppy ears, “You know I don’t think cows are supposed to have floppy ears.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and she immediately found comfort in the gesture, “Whatever, it’s cute.”

Luke looked down at her and smiled softly, “Yeah, sure is.”

Oblivious to Luke’s gaze and true meaning of his words, she spoke, “C’mon let’s go show everyone what you won me. My hero.”

He chuckled again before leading her back to the group but going as slow as possible to not have to completely leave her side too early. She looked back up at him with a playful smirk, “So Luke, is this your secret talent? Winning impossible carnival games?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “Not this time. I think I just got lucky.”

“Lucky huh? Or maybe you’re just too stubborn to give up…” She urged.

He shrugged, “Maybe a little bit of both. But it was worth it to see you smile like that.”

A new blush rose to her cheeks and she changed her gaze to the ground, letting Luke guide her through the crowds, clutching the stuffed cow even closer to her.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

“Look what Luke won me!” She hopped over to the group of boys who snapped their heads to look at her. 

They nodded, less enthusiastic than the girl but still trying to make it seem like they were. Quinn was the first one, “How long did it take him?”

Luke rolled his eyes at his older brother, “Oh shut up.”

“I was just asking!”

Y/n shook her head at the banter and stepped away as they continued to argue back and forth. She ended up next to Jack who immediately took notice that she was now by his side, “Hey there.”

“Hi.”

For a while they didn’t say anything, just watching the fight between Luke and Quinn. Then y/n nudged his side and whispered in his ear, “Fried Twinkie?”

He nodded and grinned walking away with her towards the food. The two made their way down, a lot of the crowd had dispersed to the shows now that they had started. There was a small line forming outside of the food truck that sold the fried twinkies, so the two just stood and made small talk as they waited, “So… fried twinkies, huh? Your go-to carnival snack?”

“Yep, always has been. It’s a classic, too. I’ve been eyeing them since I got to the ferris wheel with Cole.”

“Always has been? How many times have you been?”

They moved up with the line and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her shorts, “I used to go all the time with my family when we were kids, but when my siblings grew up and started relenting ‘family quality time’ we just stopped kind of going.”

Jack nodded, “Yeah, I feel that. I mean once we all started to get more serious about hockey we all just kind of forgot to do stuff like that, or at least it was hard to go out without people recognizing us.”

They finally reached the front of the line, the vendor smiling at them happily as he rang up the two fried twinkies. Y/n watched as Jack swiped his card, grateful that the boys had been basically spoiling her since they picked her up on the side of the street. It was hard to believe that this all happened because someone stood her up but she couldn’t find it in herself to care at this point. 

She jumped slightly when she noticed Jack’s hand wave in front of her face, “Lost you there for a sec. Here is your fried Twinkie, m’lady.”

“Why thank you kind sir.” 

The two made their way over to one of the many benches that was set up on the grass. Y/n sat the purple cow on the table next to her, taking a bite of the treat, “I forgot how good these were.”

“I forgot how bad for you these are.”

“Oh come on, you can’t tell me you don’t indulge in something sweet once in a while, especially since it’s the summer.”

Jack smirked, “I never said that. I just meant that this is fucking greasy as hell.”

She only nodded, taking another bite. The two sat in silence as they ate and then she saw Jack’s hand reaching out, “What’re-”

His thumb landed on the corner of her mouth, wiping some of the filling of the twinkie away, “You got a little something there.”

Her cheeks flushed at the action, though she couldn’t tell if she was embarrassed or flustered. Once they were done, they threw their trash away and y/n resumed her grasp on her cow, “Thanks for coming with me.”

“‘Course, I’m glad you’re having a great time. You deserve it, especially after… well you know.”

She frowned slightly and nodded, “Yeah.”

“Hey come on. No frowns anymore. The night isn’t over yet!”

“Oh, it’s not?”

“Nope! I heard there was this karaoke or dance thing happening soon, we’re definitely going. Let’s go find the guys.”

She lagged at his words and ran after him.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

The two ran up to the group, Jack practically crashing into Cole, “Whoops sorry.”

Cole shoved him back and y/n laughed at the interaction, “Alright so what’s this I hear about dancing?”

“Well we were going to go to karaoke, but someone said no.”

Eyes turned to Luke who shrugged innocently, “What? I don’t really want to get on stage and sing in front of a bunch of people.”

“Buzzkill. But there’s a band performing right now so we figured we’d go check that out.”

Y/n nodded, “Akright.”

The six of them made their way through the fair, walking to one of the many stages they had there. Y/n reached for the closest hand, which happened to be Quinn’s, scared of getting lost in the crowds. Quinn looked down at her and smiled gently, “Nervous?”

“Yeah, just a little overwhelmed.”

He squeezed her hand, “Well I got you.”

A pink tint covered her cheeks for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. They navigated their way close to the middle of the group, nodding their heads along to the beat of whatever song the band was playing. 

As they settled into the middle of the crowd, the energy of the live music began to seep into Y/N’s bones. The band was playing an upbeat, catchy tune that had the entire audience swaying and moving along to the rhythm. Y/n finally let herself relax into the swing of the crowd.

Quinn, still holding her hand, leaned down to be heard over the music. “Feeling better?”

She nodded, giving him a grateful smile. “Yeah, thanks. This is actually pretty fun.”

“Good,” he replied, his eyes twinkling with warmth.

As the band transitioned into a slower, more melodic song, Y/N noticed that couples around them started to pair off, swaying together in time with the music. She hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do, but before she could overthink it, Jack nudged her playfully.

“Come on, Y/N,” he said with a grin. “You can’t just stand there. Dance with us!”

Before she could respond, Jack took her other hand, spinning her around playfully before pulling her into a gentle sway. Quinn didn’t let go of her other hand, so she found herself dancing between the two of them, feeling a bit like she was in a scene from a movie.

“See? Not so bad, right?” Jack said, his voice light and teasing.

“Not bad at all,” she agreed, laughing as they continued to sway together.

Cole, Trevor, and Luke were nearby, each of them doing their own version of dancing, Trevor of course going completely against the rhythm of the music. As the song progressed, Jack eventually stepped back, letting Quinn take over fully. Y/N looked up at him, their eyes meeting in a way that made her heart flutter. The earlier awkwardness she’d felt was gone, replaced by a sense of comfort.

“You’re a pretty good dancer,” she commented, trying to keep the conversation light even as her heart raced.

Quinn chuckled, his hand still holding hers as they moved together to the music. “Thanks. I guess all those weddings and family events paid off.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth spread through her chest that had nothing to do with the summer night air. “Well, you all are definitely making this night unforgettable.”

Quinn’s gaze softened, and for a moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the crowd. “I’m glad. You deserve it.”

“That is the second time someone has said that to me tonight.”

“Oh really?” Quinn’s eyes shined with amusement, “I guess that means it’s true.”

As the song came to an end, they slowly stopped swaying, neither of them eager to let go. But the upbeat music quickly returned, and the moment passed, replaced by the lively energy of the fair.

Jack reappeared, playfully pulling Y/N away from Quinn with a grin. “Alright, enough of the slow stuff. Let’s see if you can keep up with me!”

She laughed, letting him drag her back into the group where they all started dancing together, the worries of the earlier part of the night completely forgotten. They spent the next hour losing themselves in the music, joking around, and simply enjoying each other’s company.

By the time the band announced their final song, Y/N was out of breath, her cheeks flushed from both the exertion and the pure joy she felt. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had this much fun, or felt this free. And as the music wound down, the crowd began to disperse, yet the six of them had stayed together, watching everyone push their way out to the entrance of the fair.

Y/n all of a sudden felt heavy and she could feel herself growing increasingly tired. Trevor was the first to notice this, immediately taking a position by her side and letting her lay against him, “Someone’s getting tired.” His voice was light and teasing as he looked down at her.

She mumbled something incoherently, digging her face into the boy’s shoulder. The five of them laughed at her before agreeing to head back to the car. Trevor and Quinn took the main job of helping her walk back to the parking lot, all of them equally as tired as the girl, their feet aching. 

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

When they reached the car, Luke climbed into the back seat and watched as Trevor and Quinn helped the girl into the middle row. Trevor sat in the middle, Y/n on his left and Cole on his right, as Quinn hopped into the driver’s seat with Jack in the passenger side. 

Trevor shook her slightly, trying to get her to wake enough so she could tell them where she lived or where to drop her off. Y/n blinked her eyes open slowly, looking up at him, “Hm?”

“Gotta tell us where to take you, pretty girl.”

“Wanna sleep.”

Trevor chuckled, “I know you do and you can once you tell us where you live.” 

He slid a phone into her hands and she slowly typed out her address into the search bar of the maps before handing it back to him. He thanked her and handed the phone to Jack who then plugged the phone into one of the charging cords, Siri’s voice making its way to everyone’s ears through the speakers. 

Y/n resummed her position laying against Trevor. She shivered slightly, the drastic temperature change affecting her greatly. Trevor let a smile tug at his lips as he reached into the backseat where Luke was to place it around her. She whispered a ‘thanks’ before resuming her previous action, curling into his side.

Although she was tired, her mind didn’t seem to allow her to sleep so she opened her eyes and tried to find something to focus on. Her gaze landed upon Trevor’s arm, the one littered with tattoos. She couldn’t help but be mesmerized by them and she let her eyes trace up the length of his forearm to his bicep. 

Trevor could feel her stare and finally looked back over to her before speaking softly, “What’s on your mind?”

“Nothin.”

“I can feel you looking, sweetheart.”

She blushed at the nickname although the only tell tale sign was whenever they would pass a street light that lit up her face. He chuckled at her shyness before nudging her again, “You can touch if you want princess. I don’t mind.”

Y/n looked up at him, “Really?”

He nodded, “Go ahead.”

She hesitated at first before letting her hand lay atop his arm, her fingers slowly beginning to trace the ink. She let the silence comfort her and slowly lull her to sleep to start with but then the question burned at the back of her mind, “Do they mean anything?”

“Yes and no, but mostly no. Just things I thought were cool I guess.”

She let out a soft murmur of amusement and continued the path of the shapes his arm had. Slowly she fell asleep and before she knew it they were pulling up to her apartment. Trevor had to be careful with maneuvering her but eventually he was able to pick her up and carry her up the stairs. 

As respectful as Luke could, he reached into her pocket to pull out her keys and unlocked the door. Quinn, Jack, Cole and Luke trailed behind Trevor, all of them finding their way to her bedroom. The five exchanged looks as they stood watching her, “Should we leave or note or something?”

“Probably. I don’t know how much she’s going to remember when she wakes up.”

The others nodded in agreement and slowly filled out of her bedroom but not before kissing her softly on the head and making sure the covers surrounded her entirely and that the curtains in her room were closed all the way. 

They reached the kitchen and searched for pieces of paper, each of them writing their own note with their name and phone number scribbled underneath it. It wasn’t the neatest thing they ever wrote, especially considering that it was mostly dark inside the apartment. Soon after they all left, making sure the lock was secure before walking back to the car and driving away.

ﾟ+*:୨୧:*﹤

In the morning, y/n woke up groaning slightly. She couldn’t remember what had happened last night except for the fact that she had been stood up. She sat up in bed and looked down at her arms which were clad in a sweatshirt she didn’t recognize. Slowly the memories of the previous night slowly came back to her and she couldn’t help the smile that graced her face. 

She got out of bed and walked to the kitchen, now noticing that she didn’t know if she would ever see the five again. That was until she noticed the five pieces of paper laid out on her kitchen counter, all in different handwriting. 

She made her way over to the counter, sitting at one of the chairs she had there and taking her time reading each note individually. The smile was predominantly stuck to her face as she typed each number into her phone, creating contacts for each of them. 

Finally, she made a group chat with all of them before sending a text, “Hey, this is y/n. Thank you all for last night, it meant a lot to me. I hope it wasn’t just a one time thing, I would enjoy seeing you all again.”

And within minutes of her sending the text, all of them had hearted her message and sent her each a message.

𝗡𝗘𝗪 𝗝𝗘𝗥𝗦𝗘𝗬 𝗗𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗟𝗦 + 𝗩𝗔𝗡𝗖𝗢𝗨𝗩𝗘𝗥 𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗨𝗖𝗞𝗦 + 𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗟𝗔𝗡𝗘𝗢𝗨𝗦 𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬𝗘𝗥 𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧 ୨୧

@blakesbearsblog @toasttt11 @chiblackhawks @prettyjoseph @nicole01-23 @auriesphantom @pucks-goals-penalties @dancerbailey3 @quinnylouhughesx43 @petite-potato4 @thehuggybearslover @absolutelyhugh3s @kei943 @dyslecticdutchman @this-ass-is-eikonic

© cupidbedsy (sunflower-lilac42) ; do not copy, repost, or translate my work and designs on any other website or here

[little-diable]

Wild creations - Tyler Owens (smut)

I just love pairings like these. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Tyler is the best friend of reader’s brother. When he comes visit their vacation home, it’s time for them to finally give in to the feelings both had tried to swallow ever since they had been teenagers.

Warnings: 18+, smut, unprotected piv, idiots in love, brother’s best friend setting, some slight angst

Pairing: Tyler Owens x fem!reader (3.2k words)

“I’m not giving up my room, Jake.” Her voice dripped with annoyance and anger, hands pressed to her sides as she stared her bother down. It had only been a handful of hours since her return to their family’s vacation home, set on enjoying a week off with just her closest family around. Plans that were now slipping through her fingers like warm sand.

“Oh, come on, Tyler hasn’t been sleeping on a comfortable bed for weeks, you’ve slept in the guest bedroom before.” Jake leaned against the door frame, arms crossed in front of his chest while studying (y/n) with an almost bored expression.

“And why is that any of my problem? He’s your friend, you can sleep in the other room then. Now fuck off.” Perhaps she shouldn’t have come visit the same time as her brother, the one person she loved more than any words could describe, the one person she could also strangle with her bare hands more often than she’d like to admit.

“My mattress is shit and you know it. Please, (y/n), it’s only for three nights.” The deep sigh leaving her drew a bright smirk onto Jake’s lips. He pushed himself away from the door frame to step closer, to press a kiss to her forehead and to mumble a soft “Thank you”.

She watched her brother leave with tired eyes, wondering how she’d make it through this week. (Y/n) was no stranger to being around Tyler, one of Jake’s closest friends since their early high school days, but ever since she’s kept her distance. Tyler was handsome, smart, wickedly funny, a dangerous mixture she couldn’t get involved with - especially not since he was one of Jake’s friends.

……

“So how many tornadoes has it been so far? Quite the active season, right?” (Y/n) tried to keep her focus on her food as her parents kept chatting with Tyler, who had arrived a while ago. Even though she had tried to avoid him for as long as possible, she hadn’t managed to stay away for long, pulled into a tight hug that had lasted a handful of seconds too long. A hug that had made her heart skip a beat. A hug that had left her feeling light headed and dizzy.

“Too many to count, but it has been more active than expected, that's for certain.” Tyler’s smile showed off his pearly white teeth, eyes wandering around the table to focus on (y/n). She tried to ignore his gaze on her, not daring to give in that easily, but as his knee bumped hers, her eyes automatically snapped up to meet his piercingly bright ones. “How’ve you been, (y/n)? Jake told me about your new position.”

An almost half hearted, rushed reply left her, rambling away about her new position while heat crawled up her neck. Tyler’s grin was unwavering, glued to his lips, a grin that made her hands ball into fists as the realisation swapped over her that he knew exactly what he was doing to her. The others didn’t seem to catch on, lost in their own conversation about whatever Jake was telling their parents.

“Thank you for letting me sleep in your room, darlin’. I know how much you love that space.” His hand rested on her thigh for a moment while he reached for one of the food stacked plates, he squeezed her warm skin before letting go again - a touch that felt as if he had poured boiling water over her skin, forced to accept that Tyler was peeling away the layers of restraint one by one.

“Well, I didn’t really have a choice, thanks to your best friend.” A loud laugh left Tyler as he shook his head at her. For a few more seconds, he looked down at her, studying the woman he had always found himself fascinated by.

“You know, I wouldn’t mind sharing the bed with you, and I mean, it wouldn’t be the first time.” Now she really needed to look away, staring down at her food with her jaw muscles clenched. She had tried to forget about that night for years, how she had shared a bed with him drunk off her face, pressed to his side with his arms tightly wrapped around her frame. She didn’t remember much of that night, and perhaps it was for the better that way, yet the way she had felt overly protected and comfortable in his arms was forever etched into her memory.

“Jake would kill you.” The words rolled off her tongue a tad bit too loud, catching her brother’s attention who now looked at the two from his seat. Though while (y/n) kept her gaze locked onto her brother’s features, Tyler’s hand found its way back to her knee, comfortably resting there. She struggled to focus on anything but his closeness, the warm touch of his slightly calloused fingertips.

“Why would I kill him?” Panic flushed through (y/n), she cleared her throat before trying to scramble something random together.

“(Y/n) knows that you’re a sore loser, and I’m all for kicking your ass in another game tonight.”

……

She was deep in thought, staring at her reflection in the mirror while brushing her teeth. (Y/n) pondered over her choices, wondering if she should leave earlier to escape Tyler’s closeness. Being around him had always been hard, but today something seemed to have shifted. It appeared as if he was set on teasing her, on touching her at any given chance to make her body buzz in excitement.

“Can I come in?” Her eyes snapped towards his bright ones, staring at him in the mirror. Tyler didn’t wait for her reply, he stepped into the bathroom before closing the door behind himself.

Wordlessly, he came to rest next to her, keeping his eyes on the mirror with a bright smile tugging on his lips. She watched him squeeze some toothpaste onto his toothbrush before he mimicked her movements. His sweats hung dangerously low on his hips, telling her that he’d only need to stretch his arms to show off the muscular stomach she had seen too many times to count, forced to endure being around him whenever hot summer days were upon them.

(Y/n) had to avert her eyes, trying to speed up her movements to flee from this very room as soon as possible. She tried to be as graceful as possible with spitting out and rinsing her mouth before drying her face, but the second she tried to turn from Tyler, his hand snapped out to find her wrist. It only took him a handful of moments to get rid of his toothbrush and to lean back against the sink while pulling her against him.

Almost automatically her hands found his chest, pressed against his muscular body to stop herself from tumbling into him. Wide eyes stared up at him, getting lost in the rich colour reminding her of a summer morning, filled with excitement about what the new day would bring, and yet there was a depth to the colour she could barely pinpoint, something dark almost.

“You’ve been avoiding me.” Tyler’s hands rested on her waist, leaving (y/n) to curse herself for only wearing an oversized sleep shirt and a pair of panties he could easily get a glimpse of. Her mouth was dry, throat closing up as she rang for words to protest, to speak lies neither of them would believe.

“It’s late, Tyler, let me get some sleep in, please.” She mumbled the words, eyes no longer focused on his but rather on his neck. His eyes burned holes into her skin with their intense gaze, a burning fire she couldn’t escape from.

“Not before you tell me what I did wrong.” Tyler’s words managed to gain her attention, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. He hadn’t done anything wrong - besides the teasing that had grown more prominent than ever before. He wasn’t the one to blame for her distance, god, she doubted there was anything Tyler could do wrong when it came to her. Oblivious as one could be, that was all he was.

“Nothing, Tyler. There’s nothing going on, I’m just tired.” Slowly, his hand began to move. His fingers grasped her chin, forcing (y/n) to look up at him while he silently studied her for a few seconds. He shook his head at her, as if she could read his thoughts and knew exactly what was going through his mind. Nothing but questions neither had an answer to.

“Talk to me, please. It’s just me, darlin’. I don’t like that weird tension between us.” Her eyes fluttered close for a second, followed by a deep, almost angry breath leaving her. With her heart in her throat, she pushed herself away from him, forcing his hands to let go of her waist at the unexpected need for distance.

“But that’s the problem, Tyler! It’s you, and it always has been. And I don’t know how much longer I can endure that.” Her glassy eyes were focused on the floor as she turned her back to him. He was too slow to catch up with her, still focused on the unexpected words that had surprised them both. All Tyler could do was watch her leave, blending in with the darkness lingering in the hallway - a darkness perfectly hiding the tears that began to roll down her cheeks as if a cloud of rain was following her around.

…..

“Tyler?” Her voice dripped with sleep, eyes focused on the dark frame stepping into the guest bedroom. (Y/n) could instantly tell that it was him, moving closer towards the bed with the mattress that gave in the second his knee met the soft fabric. He laid down next to her, pulling (y/n) against his chest with a sigh. It had been a few hours since their run-in and her accidental confession, words both hadn’t been able to forget ever since.

“I’m used to chasing tornadoes, to speed after those powerful, wild creations that can destroy everything and everybody who stands in their way. I’m good with asking myself questions we currently have no answers to, because nature will always be quicker and smarter than us. But I am a fool when it comes to you, and I’ve always been. I accepted that I’ll never get the answers I’d like to hear, well, all until tonight at least.” She turned in his grasp, needing to look at his features the lingering darkness hid almost completely. Wordlessly, (y/n) waited for him to keep on speaking, to give room to the pain dripping from his words.

“I fell in love with you as a teenager, I tried to stop myself, knowing that you’re my best friend’s sister. It’s wrong and probably fucked up of me, but I can’t get rid of these feelings for you. I tried, really did, you met my ex-girlfriends, and I guess it wasn’t fair on them. They were a distraction, a nice way to pass some time while my feelings for you kept growing stronger. You’ve always been there for me, always been by my side. I don’t want to fight that when there’s a small chance of you also feeling what I feel.” Her body forced her to shuffle around, to move closer and to press a soft kiss to his lips. Both their breaths hitched in their chests at the electricity buzzing through their bodies.

Tyler chased her lips, needing to deepen the kiss while realising that this was her way of giving in, of telling him that she had been plagued by the same feelings he hadn’t been able to shake. Without letting go of her, Tyler rolled (y/n) onto her back, allowing him to rest between her thighs as her legs found their way around his waist.

It felt like a dream, almost. Something both had imagined and dreamt of for years, all while accepting that it would always stay like that, a figment of their imagination, something that lived and breathed with the changing seasons. Their tongues met, slow at first, testing out the newfound territory before giving in to the pull that threatened to drown them.

“I’m so in love with you, and I’m so scared of it.” (Y/n) confessed against his lips, words that made him groan while kissing his way down her neck. Tyler instantly found the spot that made her arch her back off the mattress, pressing her chest against his in search of more, of something else he’d be willing to give to her.

“I love you too, darlin’, fuck.” Her shirt was pulled from her frame, exposing her naked chest to his glistening eyes before his followed moments later. (Y/n)’s trembling fingers explored his abs, his strong muscles that tensed beneath her touch. Tyler allowed her to have this moment, to grow comfortable with this new sensation - all while he tried his hardest to slow down, to appreciate every passing second.

“We don’t have to do anything, I don’t want to rush you.” Tyler’s whispers left (y/n) smiling, unable to bite down the heat that found its way straight to her aching core.

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, I don’t want to miss another chance.” It was all he needed to hear before kissing her again. With his weight shifted onto his knees, he let his fingers pull on her panties, pushing them aside to explore her warm folds. Her bundle of nerves was pulsing in need, desperate to feel his calloused fingertips on her burning up body.

She got lost in the kiss, hands finding their way to his hair to pull on his roots while pressing her hips further against his touch. He mumbled something about her impatience, words she spared no attention to as he pushed two fingers into her tightness. A moan left her, a sound that was muffled by the hand she pressed against her mouth, scared to wake those who slept only a few rooms down from this one.

“Gotta be quiet, darlin’, don’t need your brother to kill me tonight.” Her soft chuckles turned into another moan as he sped up his movements. Tyler was teasing her, preparing her for his twitching cock and the way he’d fuck her to make a silent promise to them both, this was something that would last, something both had fought hard for.

(Y/n) struggled to keep breathing, pulled away from reality by his touch, the way he fucked her with his big fingers while rubbing against her bundle. Tyler parted from her to spit down onto her cunt, mixing his saliva with her arousal in an almost possessive matter that made her moan once again.

He could tell that she was already close by the way her walls fluttered around his digits, begging him for more he wouldn’t give her - at least not before burying his cock inside of her. Seconds before her high could drown her, he let go, pulling his fingers away to bring them up to her mouth. Wordlessly, she parted her lips, sucking his skin clean to taste herself on her tongue, a foreign sensation she couldn’t help but enjoy. Perhaps she found enjoyment in the way he looked at her. Perhaps she found enjoyment in the pride and love swimming in his darkening pupils. Whatever it was, it left her feeling eager for more.

“I don’t have a condom on me.” His words were panted, torn between too many sensations as her hands pushed his boxers down his hips.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean.” Tyler nodded at her words, telling her that he had been tested only a few days ago. She knew that she could trust him, that he’d never willingly hurt her, something she had never felt before - a newfound trust that left her nodding her head, telling him that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Look at me, darlin’.” Her eyes flickered back up to meet his, keeping her gaze on him while he aligned himself with her entrance, slowly pushing into her. For a moment, nothing could be heard, nothing but stressed pants and a silent whimper. Sounds that were tried to be muffled by a teeth-clashing kiss guiding both.

He moved carefully, pulling out and pushing in again to let her adjust to his size, trying to hold himself back from moving too roughly. Only as he felt (y/n)’s fingernails scratching at his skin did he allow himself to add more pace. Their bodies met over and over again, high on the feeling of his cock perfectly stretching her, nudging against her swollen spot with every thrust.

This moment was a consonance, a perfect blend of emotions and sounds sealing a deal their hearts had already signed. This was something for the long run, something both would pour love and effort into while trying to adjust to the newfound love and trust they’d need to share with others soon. But tonight was all about them, about the way their bodies fit together perfectly, how they seemed to belong together with their hearts beating in sync and their accelerating pants matching up.

“You’re so perfect, fuck, you were made for me.” (Y/n) could only moan in agreement, head tossed back, neck bared to his wandering lips. She moved a hand between their bodies, rubbing her pulsing bundle to give her the push she could already taste on the back of her tongue. Her free hand pulled him down, fingers dug into his neck to hold him close for another kiss drowning out the sounds of her intense orgasm.

Tyler kept snapping his hips, burying himself inside of her over and over again as her orgasm washed through her. She was trembling, begging for him to give in and feel the same intensity she had been a foreigner to until this very night. Just the sight of (y/n), buried beneath him with a love-drunken expression tugging on her features was enough to set him free. Tyler followed her down the edge with a groan, face nuzzled in the crook of her neck to deeply inhale her scent.

“I don’t think sex has ever felt that way before.” Her mumbled confession made him grin with pride simmering inside of him. Tyler lifted his head, he pressed another kiss to her slightly swollen lips before cupping her cheek with his big hand.

“I’ll gladly fuck you like that every single night for the rest of our lives, given your brother won’t kill me tomorrow morning.”

[inkdrinkerworld]

hey there <3 I can’t find whether your requests are open so ignore this if you’re not accepting!!

I am on my knees asking for more of your bfb!remus… I need it, the world needs it. moony finally giving in after years of denying the reader for james’ sake 😫 this dynamic is everything

You're Jamies' baby sister and Remus can't believe he's got the fattest crush on you.

You're three years younger than him which isn't the thing that bothers Remus. What bothers him is the reaction James might have.

Remus should've never said yes to this damn vacation. You're all at the Potter's summer house, a life of dipping in the pool and then hitting the beach soon after.

Right now you're at the beach, and while James and Sirius are wrestling each other in the water, Remus can't pull his eyes off you as you build sandcastles and decorate them with shells that you'd found along the shore.

You can feel his eyes on you every now and then, and hide a smirk. You're pretty sure everyone knows you and Remus are head over heels for each other, he just never takes your advances as advances- much to your disappointment.

You shake your head a little, pieces of hair coming undone before you set your trap.

"Remmy, will you come help me?" You look up at him and the hair that had been braided back as all loosened and fallen in your face. You look like an angel of destruction like this- specifically his destruction.

"I'm not sure how well I can braid, dove. You know that's Jamie's strong suit." His knees crack as he stands and sets his book down before making his way over to you.

"Doesn't have to look pretty Rem, just need it out of my face so I can finish this castle."

Remus' hands are gentle as they pull the hair tie off, "Tell me if I'm pulling too hard."

You take a chance, "I can handle a little bit of pain, Rem." His breath hitches and you smile.

"Are you on the shore for me Remus? Because I'm a big girl now, you can go wrestle in the water with the boys."

Remus rolls his eyes, "I know you are, but why would I willingly let Sirius and James hold me under water?"

Remus' braid doesn't look as good as yours had, but it's swept all the hair out of your face. You turn to face him as he ties the braid off, a wide smile on your face.

"Remus I have an important question." you lean back on your palms and Remus can feel the back of his neck on fire. Your stupid little belly ring is a constant torment in his mind, always dangling over your tummy and making his brain short circuit.

"I'll answer if I can, dove." He's nervous, anything can come out of your mouth, no filter. He thinks it's sweet that you never censor yourself, Euphemia and Fleamont had ensured that their kids were never insecure about that.

You take a deep breath and Remus looks away from your glittery red bikini top. You smile and hide it quickly, "Are you scared to kiss me because of James?"

Remus looks over his shoulder, James and Sirius body surfing now. He leans in, sandy brown hair and hazel eyes all you can see- not that you mind.

"Or do you not like me anymore?" You know that's not true, but if Remus doesn't kiss you by tonight, you're going to go insane.

"Not like you?" Remus chuckles, his hand reaching for your cheek. "Dove, you don't ask silly questions." You really don't. "Of course I like you, I like you so much sometimes I can't look at you because I want to kiss you stupid."

It's your turn for your breath to hitch. "Then why haven't you kissed me yet?" Remus smiles, you sound so petulant and pouty, so unlike yourself that he leans in a little more.

Your nose brushes his, lips just barely touching and you frown. "Remus."

He groans, and pulls you closer, lips locking and you melt into him. It's a gentle kiss, experimental and slow. Your hands comb through his hair and pull him a little closer, making him deepen the kiss.

You hear whopping and hollering, "Fucking finally Moony!" It's your brother and the shock causes you both to pull away.

You heart is racing and Remus chases your lips for a second kiss. "Took you long enough." you whisper and he shakes his head.

"Did that kiss magically make you mouthy, pretty girl?" You nod, smiling like a giddy fool as Remus stares down at you.

"Moony, you couldn't wait till the end of the trip? Now I have to do the washing up for the rest of the week." Sirius moans as he and James meet you at your sandcastle fortress.

"No, I really couldn't." he's looking directly in your eyes as he says it.

[dollysilena]

IMPERFECT FOR YOU (18+)

you, doing a friend a favor, have to tutor miya osamu. but instead of learning about chemistry, he’s more interested in learning about you.

WC: 5.8k (send an ambulance)

WARNINGS: explicit drug (marijuana) usage, dubcon (sex under the influence), mentions of female anatomy and female identifying reader, use of ‘baby’ as petname, this is severely under-edited i’m so sorry

TAGS: frat/popular!osamu x nerdy/unpopular!reader, f!reader, porn with (some) plot, college au, post-timeskip, smut, hair-pulling, cunnilingus, petnames, reader has anxiety somebody pls give her a hug, if you get a magnifying glass osamu has a corruption kink

NOTE: i needed a palate cleanser so i can get back into writing so thus this was born. i intend to make this a mini-series (maybe?) or maybe just blurbs/headcanon series, who knows! let me know what you guys want <3

“Absolutely not.”

“C’mon,” Your friend whines, folding her hands together in mock begging, giving you the best puppy eyes she could muster even throwing in a quivering lip for her dramatic performance. “He’s a perfectly nice guy!”

“So what you’re telling me, this guy–” You begin, dumping a sugar packet into your coffee.

“Who I’m tutoring.”

“Right. The guy you tutor, who never comes to class–”

You stir your coffee. She nervously chuckles.

“Who is on the verge of failing–”

You stab your straw into the cup. She lets out a tense ‘mhm’.

“And needs to pass this final to avoid being on academic probation–”

You raise the straw to your mouth. She nervously fiddles with her fingers.

“... Needs to be tutored by me instead?”

You take a sip of your coffee as your friend shrinks into the booth seat. 

“Well, you didn’t have to put it like that,” she grumbles through a slurp of her drink.

You should have known that when your best friend offered to take you out to your favorite cafe, on her, she was up to something. And you knew that when she bought you your favorite muffin, she was going to be asking you something ridiculous. The last time you were offered a free muffin, you ended up having to pretend to her parents that you were dying in the emergency room so that she could sneak out to her hookup’s place. 

The plan almost worked until they came to visit you out of concern, only to find you both not there. She was grounded for another two months.

You turn to her.

“And why can’t you do it?” Your friend was supposed to be the one tutoring him, so you were confused about why it suddenly had to be you instead.

“Because,” She grumbles as if it were obvious. “I’m already busy trying to pass my own exams, that stupid research paper for Professor Takeda is driving me crazy, babysitting my piece of shit brother–”

Translation: I’m in over my head.

“Besides, everyone knows you’re a genius and you’ll pass no matter what, so why not take on a charity case in your free time, huh?” 

She grins at you, not bothering to hide her obvious attempt at fluffing your ego to convince you.

“Does this guy even have a shot at passing?” You sigh, taking a sip of your latte. “I mean, if he doesn’t bother to come to class, how much effort do you think he’s gonna put–”

“He’s a smart guy, trust me! It’s just… y’know how college is.”

Right, he’s a college guy. He was probably knee-deep in parties instead of his textbooks.

“Why’s it on you to let this guy pass? I mean, it’s not your problem–”

“Well, his brother sorta said if I’d help him, I’d be invited to all the frat parties on campus this semester…” There it is.

She trails off but still stares at you with pleading eyes, and you notice her sliding her muffin towards you.

“You’re not gonna let up on this, are you?” You ask as you inspect the blueberry-crusted pastry now on your plate. 

“Nope,” she replies, popping the ‘p’ and grinning with her coffee straw dangling in her mouth. “Does it help that he’s super cute?”

You sigh again and pinch your nose bridge. She takes your lack of response as a victory.

“Great! I already told him that you’d come by tonight. I’ll send you his address and phone number–”

“You told him I was coming before you even knew I’d agree?!”

“Well, what else were you gonna do tonight? And don’t tell me you’re gonna watch that shitty soap opera again.”

Again, you don’t have an answer. Maybe because she’s already said it for you. But it’s not shitty! It’s romantic, moving, thrilling– okay, yeah, you’re starting to hear yourself. Maybe you shouldn’t stay in tonight.

“Fine, where does he live?”

“You have to be fucking kidding me.”

At no point did your friend mention to you that the address she was sending you to would be a frat house.

You thought it was odd that the address was in the dead center of campus– but you figured that whoever you were tutoring happened to get an apartment with a great location. It should’ve been obvious to you that this area would be Greek life housing when you realize all the houses on the block were way too nice to be afforded by a typical college student. You have never stepped foot on this end of campus. Well, you hadn’t, until now.

You should’ve stayed home, nose-deep in the romance novel weighing down in your bag. But now, you’re standing on the front porch of one of the most popular frat’s on campus.

“I’m gonna kill you,” you sneer into the phone pressed to your ear.

“Quit your yapping! It’s not like there’s a party going on or something.” You could practically see your friend rolling her eyes through the phone.

You anxiously dart your eyes throughout the house exterior. It’s massive, obviously well-funded based on how nearly every window seems to be polished, and definitely better than the shitty dorm you lived in a few blocks away. You couldn’t help but dread imagining how many frat brothers lived inside.

“I’m gonna leave–”

“Hey brat, put that down!” She screeches to presumably her younger brother on the other end of the line. “Ugh, gotta go. Have fun!”

“Wait!--”

She already ends the call before you can say anything else, and you fume at her contact information staring back at you. Seriously, if somebody axe-murdered you here, you’d make sure to haunt your friend for the rest of her life.

You weigh your decisions– a part of you wants to bolt back to your dorm, imagining the comfortable blanket and pillow resting on your bed practically awaiting your return, or you could not chicken out and actually fulfill the promise you made to your friend.

Damnit, you knew you had to pick the latter. You’d feel really shitty if you didn’t.

Besides, you’d never hear the end of it if you ran out with your tail between your legs.

You ready yourself to knock on the door, admittedly through a few deep breaths first, and as your fist is about to meet the wood of the door, it swings open from the inside. Had you been a second quicker, you probably would have tapped your tutee in the face.

Except, now that you’re looking at him, he’s quite tall. It would be more at his chest than anything. His broad chest was covered in a tight black shirt, with strong shoulders… In fact, you couldn’t even see his face if you were simply staring forward. 

“Ya the tutor?” He states simply, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him to notice that there’s a face attached to the chest you were staring at. You look up, and dammit, your friend was right. He was super cute.

His hair is dark, with heavy gray eyes– bored and lazily staring at you, dumbfounded on his doorstep There’s a series of tattoos snaking beneath his shirt and piercings you couldn’t even begin to count– you nearly forget that you have to respond.

“Uhm– yeah, that’s me,” you reply, trying to regain your mental footing. “You’re Osamu, right?” 

“Mhm, come on in,” he says, sticking his hands into loose gray sweatpants…. You should really stop staring. Or at least pretend you have a semblance of class.

You step inside and slip off your shoes as you briefly inspect your surroundings. The frat house is above all else, what you expected. Minus for the fact it actually seemed clean despite the typical frat stereotypes you heard– though, you’re sure their cushy funding got them cleaning services. There’s no way a bunch of college guys living together could keep a big house like this clean without some help.

However, that makes you take note that there is a lack of frat brothers in the frat house.

“Are ya just gonna stand there and stare or come inside?” Osamu remarks and your spine grows twice as stiff. You nod quickly and follow him inside and he leads you to what seems like a living room area– some couches and chairs around a TV and coffee table.

Osamu gestures for you to sit and you cautiously sit down, as if the couch had a trap door, leading you to fall into whatever scary basement sat beneath the house.

“Where’s–” You clear your throat, hoping you can keep a firm voice. “-- the rest of your brothers?”

“All of ‘em left on a trip for the weekend, somethin’ ‘bout a party at another school, but I gotta stay back and study for this damn final.”

You quickly pull out the textbooks and notebooks from your bag and place them on the table to ignore Osamu, who takes a seat beside you. He makes you unbearably nervous like you’re about to drop on a rollercoaster. But Osamu is… He’s… stoic? No, that’s not right. Maybe calm was the right word. You wouldn’t know– you’re anything but calm right now.

No, because, quite frankly Osamu looks like he was plucked straight out of one of the daydream sequences you fall asleep to. And you feel like your heart is about to burst out of your chest from how fast it was racing.

“So, you need help with medicinal chemistry?” You notice your voice is an octave higher than what it usually is.

“Yeah, I missed too many classes and now I don’t have a fucking clue what’s going on,” he sighed, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. Whatever you do, do not look at the way his arms are flexing or the distinctive veins charting throughout his forearms.

“We can start–” you flipped through your textbook to avoid staring at his arms any longer, “with the chapter on structure-based relationships–”

“Yer not who I thought Yuki would send.”

“I’m sorry?” You sputter back, and you think that your glasses pivot off your face. You were taken aback, did he think you were somebody else? Was he expecting someone else or?--

“She’s one of my brother’s friends. And my brother… Well, I don’t think ya would hang out with the likes of him.”

Oh, that’s what it was.

He was disappointed that you weren’t… someone more interesting, like your friend, or the people he knew in his frat, or…

It doesn’t matter. You should’ve expected this. After all, you’re just the tutor he has to tolerate for a few lessons until he passes his final. 

But still, you feel some sort of rejection. You couldn’t blame him, his Friday night was being wasted on some nerd who couldn’t even look him properly in the eye because she wasn’t used to being near cute guys, let alone one of the most attractive guys she had seen in, well, ever.

“Don’t look like that, I think that’s a good thing.”

“I look like what?” Your hand flies to your face, instinctively going to hide it.

“Like I kicked yer puppy,” he muses. 

You look back at him, and you see that he’s almost amused by your nerves. Your cheeks burn and you feel the need to wrap the cardigan you had on tighter around you, as if the wooly cotton would act as some sort of shield. But Osamu’s still right beside you, and you feel as if he’s intercepting some sort of barrier between you. But he sits still next to you.

“I like it, ya seem chill, and better than the damn morons I’m always ‘round. Yer a nice change of pace.”

A nice change of pace? You didn’t think that anyone would find your company… enjoyable.

“Please,” you laugh. The idea of you being chill momentarily makes you forget about your nerves. If only Osamu knew half the thoughts racing through your mind. “I’m a goody-two-shoes, and definitely not chill.”

“What, ya a good girl or somethin’?” 

You falter. You glance back at him and notice that his eyes still haven’t left you.

“What?” You say, but it comes out more like a squeak. You’re not dumb, you could hear the indication ever so slightly tinged in his voice.

“Ya just interest me, I guess. Wanna know ‘bout ya.” You hear slight amusement in his tone. 

“So tell me, what makes you a goody two shoes?”

“I, uhm–” You barely are processing an answer with the way his dark-rimmed eyes bore at you. “Well, I haven’t ever smoked–”

“Weed or–?”

You shake your head. “Neither.”

“Ya drink?”

“Sometimes. Not often. I don’t go to parties or anything like that, and drinking alone is kinda depressing so–”

He snorts. You aren’t sure why you were answering his sudden questions, you were just here to tutor him in chemical structures. But something about his presence beside you is commanding and you feel the need to comply.

“Maybe we can change that sometime.”

You barely compute what he just said before he turns to the textbook in front of you.

“So what’s this ‘bout structure activity?”

Osamu’s smarter than what you expect for a student possibly facing academic probation. Honestly, you question if he had ever needed you in the first place. He’s quick to pick up on the topics you lay out, and he probably could have self-taught himself most of the material if he applied himself. 

Or showed up to class, but you keep that thought to yourself.

“That’s pretty much all of chapter five,” you say, closing the textbook in front of you.

“I honestly think if you just kept studying on your own, you don’t need me to tutor you, I can send you some videos too if you’d like, but I think that you’re fine–”

“Nah, I’d prefer if ya came over.”

He says it simply in a lazy drawl. But for you, it sends your brain into overdrive. You feel like a computer whose code has an error but keeps trying to run its system. 

“Oh– Alright– I can come around sometime next week then.” You barely maintain to keep your composure. You just needed to be on auto-pilot until you got home, where you could properly freak out in the sanctity of your own room.

“Ya okay with late nights? Stupid frat schedule keeps me busier than I’d like to be.” He asks.

You nod your head. “Mhm, I’m fine being over late.”

“That too much for ya?” And there’s a lazy smile across his lips. “Ya got a bedtime or something?”

You give him another small laugh. “No, I usually stay up late anyway.”

“Ya stay up late? Doin’ what?” 

There it is again. That sliver of amusement in his tone, as if he knows something that you don’t. But he keeps his calm demeanor, the one that makes you question if you’re just reading too much into things.

“Reading, watching shows, y’know, the normal stuff.”

Reading the stack of romance novels piled in your dorm until you see the sun peak through your blinds, watching soap operas until the screen asks ‘Are you still watching?’ because they assumed you left it open when in reality you’ve watched about five hours worth of television, dreaming, and wondering if someday you could attain even a fraction of the romance you see in fiction.

Yeah, the normal stuff.

At least for you, anyway. But hell would freeze over before you admit that. 

Especially to Osamu, who you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of a flutter in your chest for.

“That’s all ya got planned for Friday night?” He hums, fingers absentmindedly twirling a pencil in his free hand.

“Yup,” you reply, softly. Great, now he probably thinks you’re a loser just like everyone else. You should have just told him you were going to head to a party, like any other normal college student your age.

“Ya wanna do somethin’ with me, then? I’m bored as hell being in this house all alone.”

For a moment, you think that you hear him wrong. Certainly, a guy, as hot, as intimidating, and– and so many things you’re not, and certainly couldn’t match to, was offering to hang out with you. No way, this doesn’t happen. Not to girls like you.

“You wanna hang out with me? Like right now?”

“Would ya prefer a different time, then?” His tone though, doesn’t suggest that he wants to reschedule. It’s painfully sardonic. It seems like it would be now, or not at all.

“N-no. I’d…”

For once, you have a chance to not have a nose in a book. To not spend your weekend alone wondering if that was going to be the rest of your college life. You have the chance to do something for yourself. 

And something as simple as hanging out with a cute guy on a Friday night could be the start of that.

You sit up straighter and hold your head up. Something is tickling in your chest as you look back at Osamu, finally meeting back those eyes that couldn’t seem to stop studying you.

“Yeah, I’d like to.”

Something is screaming inside you. This is unfamiliar territory. This is foreign. Leave now. Abort mission. But you shove it down, you weren’t stopping while you were already ahead. New is good, you told yourself. But you still feel the urge to bolt out the door to cower under your covers.

You had put all your school supplies back into your bag and nestled yourself into the corner of the couch, making yourself as small as can be. Osamu said you two could ‘watch a movie and chill’. You could do something as simple as a movie, right? 

“Ya comfy?” He asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you say quietly, as if speaking up would take up more space in the room.

“I can tell that yer nervous,” he comments. It was that obvious, huh?

“Yeah, I don’t…” you pause to collect yourself, “usually do this.”

“Hang out with guys only after a few hours of meeting ‘em?” He laughs, relaxing himself on the couch.

“Hang out with guys,” you mutter under your breath.

“What’d ya say?” He says, looking over at you questioningly. It seems he heard you.

“I don’t hang out with guys, at all,” you replied, tone clearer now, “much less cute ones–”

Shit, shit, shit. You didn’t mean to say the last part.

“Ya think I’m cute?”

You wondered if you sank deeper into the couch, that’d you’d disappear completely.

“I mean, yeah– you’re attractive, of course.” He has to know that, right? A guy like him definitely knows he’s attractive. “And usually… guys like you don’t hang out with… people like me, that’s all.”

You’re not sure where the sudden gust of courage comes from, considering you were so anxious moments ago– but the question spills out from your mouth before you can think twice about it.

“Why’d you want me to hang out with you?” You ask suddenly, turning to him.

“Maybe ‘cause I think yer cute,” he states simply as if it were an easy answer, leaning back and looking back at the TV.

You haven’t been paying attention to whatever movie Osamu turned on– What was this? Some slasher flick?-- Something with a girl shrieking at the top of her lungs while obviously fake blood pours out of her. It’s ridiculous and you would laugh if there wasn’t a weight weighing on your mind– the weight is also sitting right next to you.

No, you can’t notice the terrible special effects when you know Osmau is beside you– warm and taking up the majority of the space on the already small couch you’re both sitting on.

You can’t help but have your brain go into overdrive over what Osamu said. Did he just call you cute and then drop the topic? What were you supposed to do? Just watch the movie and just not address it? Is this what guys did? Is that how you flirt?-- you have a lack of answers. Mostly due to a lack of experience.

You spend the first thirty minutes of the movie wondering if you were just imagining Osamu slowly inching towards your half of the couch. By the time the first half of the movie is through and the killer is on his third victim, you decide you’re right when you realize that Osamu’s thigh is ghosting yours.

Now you really can’t deny it. 

A part of you thinks Osamu wants to be closer to you. 

But also, he could just be doing it subconsciously.

It’s probably the latter, but maybe…

“I can hear yer heartbeat from here,” Osamu practically chuckles from beside you.

“What?”

You try not to stammer it. You fail, anyway.

“I can tell that yer nervous, relax. I don’t bite.”

No, you’re certain that Osamu doesn’t bite. But you know that he’s close to you. Which could be worse. In fact, that is worse.

It’s worse because your senses are going haywire from how close he is.

You can tell he smells good. He smells better than whatever cologne sample you’ve ever smelled in a store or magazine. He smells like– what’s the term? Musky? Woody? You aren’t sure, you just know it’s slowly becoming your favorite scent.

You can feel his body heat, warm and consuming. You can hear his breaths– low and steady. You focus on all these other things to ignore the fact he’s boring his dark eyes straight into you.

“I got something for ya,” Osamu suddenly remarks. “Stay right there.”

You barely process what he says before he removes himself from the couch, and heads out of the living room.

Your brain isn’t able to overanalyze like it usually does because Osamu is back in about a minute. Your defenses are still up. What could he possibly have for you? Your mind is sprawling with questions as Osamu plops himself right back beside you.

“C’mere, this should help yer nerves,” Osamu hums, as he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

You don’t ignore the way you feel his hands skimming over the sliver of exposed skin between your sweater and jeans, like hot coals brushing against you.

 “Ya never smoked before, right?”

“No, I’ve never…” You realize that what he was holding in between his fingers was a freshly rolled blunt.

“Would ya like to try?”

You couldn’t lie, you’ve always been curious to try, especially since your friends were always talking about how ‘amazing’ it made them feel and how it would do wonders for your nerves. 

You look at the blunt between his fingers cautiously and peek back at him.

“It’ll be okay, I got ya, nothing to worry yer pretty little head about.” 

Pretty. Did he call you pretty? He has you?-- Fuck it, you needed something to put out the fires of your nerves.

“Okay, let’s do it,” you nod meekly.

“Attagirl,” Osamu grinned lazily. You don’t even bother to think about that comment, either. If you did, you’d be dead in a minute.

You watch as Osamu digs around the coffee table for a lighter, which is conveniently laid out on the table, as if ready for this moment. You watch as he flicks a flame to the blunt. He languidly takes a hit, and the smoke that hits the air is pungent. You’re glad there’s a window cracked open so the smell doesn’t collect in the room. 

You should be studying his motions to mimic them for when it's your turn, but instead, you drink in the fact that he looks oh so fucking attractive. 

He leans back on the couch, and you watch the way he tips his head back to blow out the smoke into the air above. You study the way veins flow through his neck and the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he exhales. You feel– fuzzy, warm. Are you high already? There’s a heat creeping from your chest, and you think you feel dizzy.

Yeah, you’re high. Totally. That has to be it.

When Osamu takes a look back at you, you avert your stare to your lap– reminding yourself that you’re acting odd. Cool girls don’t gawk at a guy smoking a blunt, they would– Well, you have no idea what they would do actually because you’re not cool.

And that’s obvious from the way you look at the blunt in Osamu’s hand like he’s handing you an unpinned grenade.

Osamu clocks in on the terror painted on your face. It’s so obvious somebody ten miles away could probably sense the nerves emitting from your body. You’re hoping you aren’t giving the deer-in-headlights look you usually have.

But you definitely are.

Osamu’s face softens at you.

“Do ya still wanna try? Ya don’t have to if ya don’t wanna–”

“Nono! I wanna try it.” you nearly jump at Osamu’s words. You’re a lot of things– nervous, nerdy, probably weird if you asked the guy who sat next to you in chemistry, but maybe that’s because he’s seen you write in three separate color-coded planners before. 

“Alright,” Osamu chuckles as he watches you take the packed roll from him.

But you’re not a quitter.

There’s a sudden adrenaline rush for you, almost like you’re taking a shot of tequila. You pinch the blunt and raise it to your lips before taking a hit– your very first.

You make sure not to inhale much. You’re already on the verge of coughing from the taste alone. You pull it away, letting out a meek cough, as smoke expels from your mouth. It tastes shitty and gross, like you expected. But you feel good? 

“Not bad,” Osamu muses, and you realize he was watching you the entire time.

Osamu looks at you. He’s been looking at you a lot tonight, you realize.

But that doesn’t mean anything.

“I have no idea how you don’t cough,” you say, as you pass the blunt back to him. 

“Taste bad?” He grins lazily. His arm is still around your waist. It feels good, too.

“Horrible.” It doesn’t stop you from inhaling more of the sour smoke.

“Look at ya,” Osamu chuckles. “Like it, don’t ya?”

You’re making Osamu smile, laugh even. And it makes your head spin even faster.  It’s so good.

Good, good, good. 

Everything feels so fucking good.

Osamu makes you feel good.

“What are ya mumbling about?” Osamu asks plucking the blunt from your fingertips, and you snap out of it. Well, almost, the feeling is still pooling in your chest, head– everywhere.

“I just– I feel–”

“Feel what?”

You start giggling. Doesn’t Osamu feel it too?

But maybe he does because he’s smiling at you. It’s not the same giddy heart-melting feely smile you have plastered on, it’s more relaxed. But you almost could see… a bit of amusement.

“Figures ya would be a lightweight for yer first time– probably shouldn’t have given ya the strong shit, but’s all I had.”

“I wanna do it again,” you sleepily smile waiting for Osamu to pass you the blunt. 

But he doesn’t. Instead, Osamu pauses to look at you again. This time he seems… inquisitive. He looks at the roll between his fingers, and you can tell that he’s calculating something in his head– then he looks at you.

“Ya wanna try something?”

His voice is low and there’s that tone of interest again. 

“Try what?”

“It’s a… different way to take a hit.”

It doesn’t take much to convince you and you nod at him. You just wanted more. More of the good feeling, more of Osamu.

You expect him to pass you the blunt, maybe with some sort of instructions, but instead, he takes another hit. You’re about to ask whatever question you had before Osamu reaches for your chin and takes it firmly.

Despite your brain being foggy, your brain is working overtime. Osamu is touching you– staring at you. And now his face is ghosting yours. You’re close enough to notice the slightest freckle ghosting his left cheek. Were you always this warm? No, you’re burning. There’s a fire sweeping in your chest, your head, your face– everywhere. You’re so warm– Osamu’s so warm.

And there’s a moment where you zero in. Osamu isn’t exhaling.

You realize what he wants to do.

The smoke inside his mouth isn’t for him– it's for you.

Your lip doesn’t even quiver in the way it usually does whenever you blurt out something nervously. Instead, your lips part invitingly, and you barely even register Osamu has closed the distance until his lips are brushing against yours and there’s a wisp of smoke pooling from his mouth to yours.

Osamu still had one hand steadied on your chin and the other was caging you into the couch corner. The further the smoke spills into your mouth, the more you sink into the couch. You barely even register there’s no more smoke to inhale because your back hits the seat of the couch, and Osamu’s on top of you.

“There’s a freckle on your left ch– mmph!”

Osamu’s mashing his lips into yours in an instant. You didn’t even think there could be any more room for Osamu to close in– he was already so close to you– but you were wrong. 

The kissing– it’s sloppy, depraved, even. Your glasses press against your face painfully from how quickly Osamu pounced on you, so you pull them off your face, not even caring where you throw them. You both feverishly want more, more, more. Osamu’s grabbing at your hips, his hands big and pawing at you. Your own hands are mapping the outline of his shoulders through his shirt. Osamu’s large body dwarfs your own, his weight resting on you. Your hands feverishly grabbed at him as your lips chased after the feeling you’ve been relishing– the good feeling– the feeling is pouring straight into your lips like rushing water and you’re drinking it in. It marries itself with the dizzy euphoric feeling clouding in your mind. So, so good.

He’s everywhere– you feel him everywhere. Your head is spinning. Osamu’s lips– coated in saliva mixing with your chapstick, pull you in even further. You don’t even know how you’re breathing, you haven’t gone for air in what feels like years.

But Osamu, selfishly, wants more. And so do you. So you don’t protest when you feel him rut his hips directly into yours– the throbbing bulge in his pants hitting that sweet spot you weren’t even aware was wanting for more. You moan feverishly against Osamu’s lips, the sound barely spilling out against him.

Osamu pulls himself off your lips, burying his face into the crook of your neck so you can feel every rugged heavy breath against your skin.

“Fuck, baby.” He’s panting, his hips grinding deeper into yours. The sweatpants he’s wearing, the jeans you have on, it’s too many layers. You’re unashamedly pawing at Osamu’s pants, begging for him to take them off so you can feel more.

“‘Samu, please,” you whine. You don’t even think of the nervous, shy, girl who walked into the apartment a few hours ago. She had been replaced with someone more desperate, unashamed in being so greedy for more.

Osamu doesn’t need to ask what you’re asking for, before shrugging off his pants and kicking them off somewhere on the floor. And in a moment, he’s unbuttoning your pants and pulling them off you like it’s burning you. Osamu’s already dark eyes– grow even darker at the sight of the wet spot growing on your panties and your sweater riding up your stomach.

“Please, please,” you cry with moans of his name in the absence of movement.

“Tell me what ya want,” Osamu pants.

“Wanna feel good.”

“Fuck,” he groans, before lowering his face to meet your stomach. He trails wet, firm kisses along your stomach, trailing down until his face is centered with your dripping cunt– clearly begging for more the way it clenches when you feel his hot breath ghosting the outside of your panties.

You absentmindedly grab at his hair, pushing him further to your aching cunt, encouraging him to continue– practically pleading the way you attempt to grind your pussy into him.

Osamu yanks off whatever panties you had on, and you swear you hear fabric ripping. But you couldn’t care less when you feel Osamu’s tongue languidly lick a stripe against your slit before beginning to circle your clit.

Your back arches off the couch and your wanton moans fill the empty air. You hope that Osamu’s didn’t have thin walls. But when Osamu suddenly slips a finger into your– it’s suddenly the least of your worries. 

The combination of Osamu’s tongue suckling at your clit and his now two fingers pumping in and out of you sends you into ecstasy. Every nerve in your body was vibrating as your head clouded between the weed running through your system and Osamu buried in his pussy eating you out like his life depended on it. Fuck what you smoked, Osamu was the real drug.

There’s a moment where your nerves pinch together– and everything in your chest collects, all those funny feelings turning hot and heavy in your lower stomach, before you cum. And you cum, hard.

You grab Osamu’s hair at the roots with a moan– no, scream, almost reflective of the horror movie actress you were making fun of earlier, as you coated Osamu’s face with slick. You don’t even realize how much it was until Osamu raises his head and his mouth reflects glossily.

You’re swimming in the hazy cloud of pleasure for a while, until your breathing steadies and you’re settling into the couch with heavy pants.

“Not bad for yer first time, right?” Osamu chuckles, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What?” H-how did he know–

“Yer first time smoking?” Osamu smirks as he pulls himself up so he can sit on the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah,” you mumble, pulling your sweater down so you can cover your lower half.

You avert your gaze from Osamu, embarrassed by the lack of clothes you had on. You felt a tinge more sober now– enough to realize that it was way past the time you thought you’d stay. The movie credits weren’t even playing anymore– the TV had just gone into sleep mode. Osamu notices this too when he takes a glance out the window.

You think about what he said. Your first time was good. And maybe… Maybe you should try having more firsts.

“It’s late, ya shouldn’t be walkin’ home at this hour–” So that’s why…

“Ya wanna just crash here?”

You let Osamu take another first.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

LIKES, REBLOGS, COMMENTS, & TAGS ARE APPRECIATED + HELP ENCOURAGE YOUR LOCAL WRITER (ME)! ♡

[homestylehughes]

forbidden love

pairing(s): nico hischier x fem!hughes sister

summary: what happens when they both want a love that's forbidden? 

warnings: fluff, sooo much flufffff. nicos a cute little baby in this. shy, nervous and cute reader. use of pet names and y/n. cussing, implied smut 18+ intense makeout, nothing too heavy.

wc: 3.6k 

an: hiiiiii loves!!! NICO FIC NICO FIC NICO FIC!!!! about damn time!! loveeee nico. hes so ?? to many words. i really enjoyed writing this. this is my first hughes sister story i've written, and i loveeee, hopefully you guys do too! i had trouble deciding if i should make this a cliffhanger or not... i kinda did but i think i want a part 2 if you guys want that!!! share your opinions, i love hearing them!! anyways i hope you enjoy, this might be my favorite piece yet. i hope you guys enjoy! like and reblog if you do, much love as always<3

happy reading <3

Nico knew he couldn't have you, but he wanted you anyway. Being Luke and Jack's older sister, made you off limits to anybody on the team, older or not. Nico had not always felt this way about you until recently. 

Ever since Jack got drafted to the devils, and then luke, he started to see you at more fundraising events held by the devils, team outings whenever you were in town visiting. Stealing little glances at you when you were in the same room, being pulled in by your smile and how you moved your hands as you talked to anyone and everyone. 

If that didn't already pull him into you even more, what did was, how you acted with the rest of the team treating all of the boys like they're our own family. Always greeting nico with a shy smile and hi, making conversation about anything, hockey related or not. 

Nico was enhanced by you, but he couldn't have you, which brings you guys to this moment. 

– 

“Jack if you don't answer your phone, god help me” I yell shout out, as I call Jack for the 10th time in the span of 15 minutes. Already calling Luke’s phone around 30 times, still no answer. My hands are shaking as I type out random masses of texts to both of them.

So maybe taking an impromptu trip to see my brothers wasn't the best idea. living in vancouver had its perks, being close to Quinn was one of them but i missed my two younger brothers, or maybe i should say assholes since neither of them can answer their phones. 

I'm standing outside their apartment soaked from head to toe, not thinking about the rain, nor was I thinking about the fact that they had moved, leaving me with no key to their place.

 So I'm stuck, knowing there's nothing I can do. I pull my suitcase over to the wall, slowly and dramatically slide down the wall, letting out a deep sigh as I do. My phone is almost dead, I'm hungry, jetlagged, annoyed, cold, wet and so many other words right now. 

Dropping my head into my arms that rest on my knees, deciding that this will be my final resting place, for tonight. I hear the elevator door ding open on the floor, not bothering to look up knowing it's neither jack or luke walking down the hall.

“y/n” I hear my voice with a thick accent say, knowing the voice I slowly lift my head up, locking eyes with the one and only Nico Hischier “Hi..” I mutter back embarrassed at the fact that look like a lost wet dog right now in front of him.

“Are you okay, did something happen?” he asks back as he begins to walk closer to me. “I uhh…wanted to surprise Jack and Luke but it seems like they aren't here.” i sign out, “to make it worse i don't have a key to their apartment, they're not answering my calls or texts. My phones almost dead and i'm covered in wet rain and i'm cold.'' I huff out the last part, my eyes beginning to fill with tears. I close my eyes quickly not wanting to look like a fool even more and cry in front of nico.

“Oh y/n”, expecting him to just stand there, instead he makes his way to me taking a seat on the ground next to me. "What are you doing nico?” I say, opening my eyes again, turning my head to lock my eyes with his. I get a good look at him for the first time since this, and fuck is he beatiful. 

His deep voice snapping me out of my trance as he speaks, “sitting with you, what else does it look like.” he says followed with a soft chuckle. “Nico, you don't have to do that, I'm okay, you can go home, I'm sure you're tired.” instantly feeling bad he's wasting his night away with me out here. 

“Jack and Luke would kill me if I left you out here by yourself”, “if I don't kill them myself” I say back my eyes now dropping back my feet. That earns a laugh from Nico, he has such a nice laugh, I think to myself. y/n, snap out of it and get it together. 

Sitting up straighter, pulling my head to lean against the wall, mirroring nicos position. “Are you sure? You don't have too, i'm not even sure when they'll be back.'' I say looking at Nico, who's looking back at me. “Well I do have another idea,” he says, licking his lips before speaking again. “I live right down the hall, if you'd like you can stay with me until they come back.” 

“Nico i can't do that, i feel bad”, “don't feel bad, i'm offering. I'm leaving you out here by yourself.” he repeated to me again. My heart picks up at his words. Taking a deep breath, I weigh my options in my head, knowing that this is probably the best option, but also my worst. 

How am i going to survive with very, sweet, hot, sexy, nice, handsome, pretty, swiss caption of the new jersey devils, nico hischier? I'm probably not, but at least I'll die happy and not here. 

“Okay, I'll come. Thank you so much nico.” I finally answered him, “dont worry about it, come on let's get you changed and warmed up i can't imagine how cold and tired you are” he says with a soft loving look on his face. Getting up before me, holding out his hand for me to grab, pulling me up from the floor. His hand feels so soft and warm in mine, I don't want to let go. 

Pulling my hand out of Nico’s, I go to grab my suitcase, to follow him down the hall, before I can fully grab it Nico has it in his hands. “Nico..i can grab my own suitcase” “i know you can, but i want to do it, so i am” he says as he looks back at me smiling. 

Ignoring how his smile made my whole body tingle, I sigh out and shake my head as a small smile breaks through on my lips, as I follow Nico down the hall. 

Stopping at his place, only a few doors down from my brothers, popping in the key and turning the lock, quickly opening the door. He motions for me to go in first, I give him a small smile as I enter the apartment. 

Taking in the place around me, pictures of his family and teammates over the walls, little nicnacs that fill the space, it feels like home. “Does my place give you your approval?” he says from behind me, “yes it does, jack and luke need to take a few home decor lessons from you.” that earns me another laugh from nico. 

“Let me show you the guest bedroom” he says, leading me through the apartment, down a hall, opening a door which I assume is in the guest room. “Here's the guest room, hopefully it's okay and comfortable for you, I wasn't expecting anyone over anytime soon and i-” “Nico'' I say, cutting off his ramble. “It's perfect, thank you” I say walking in front of him, pulling him into a hug. 

God, he smells so good. The way his warm body is wrapped around me like a warm blanket, I don't want to pull away, but I do after a few moments. 

“You're welcome y/n” he says looking at me again, i can feel my heart beginning to heat up. Clearing his throat before looking away, “the bathroom is at the end of the hall, my room is at the beginning of the hall.” he says, while pointing in the direction. Nodding in understanding even though he can't see me. 

“Feel free to shower and get changed, i'm going to head to the kitchen to start making dinner” he says now turning back to face me, “nicooo… you don't have to cook anything. You're already doing so much for me by letting me stay here, really” 

“Now what kind of host would I be, if I let a pretty girl like you starve under my watch.” Nico replies with a teasing smile on his face. “A bad one i guess” I smile breaking through my face. “You called me pretty” I said again, my eyes never leaving his. “I did, because you are.” he says before walking out of the room, leaving me stunned.

“Do you have any special requests for dinner?” I hear him shout from the kitchen, popping my head out of the room, “no! Surprise me!” I replied. 

This is dangerous, I can not think or find him attractive. He’s my brother's captain, teammate and also one of their closest friends. I have to keep it together. 

I gather my things to take a shower, making my way to the bathroom, shutting the door and turning the shower on. I then work on peeling off my semi- wet clothes off my body, the relief filling my veins once they're finally off, finally making my way into the shower. The hot water relaxes my body instantly. Throughout the whole shower all of my thoughts are about Nico, and I'm going to act once I get out of here, making me nervous and feeling things. Things i shouldn't feel. 

Turning off the shower, getting out and drying myself quickly. I began getting redressed again, clearing the mirror to take a look at myself, the old devils shirt i've had for god knows how long, that's probably three sizes too big, and shorts that you cant even see. Not bothering to pack pants, because I thought I would be staying with my brothers, not Nico.

 Inserucies start to plague my mind but I push them down. brushing my hair, fixing my shirt, deciding that it's good enough. Grabbing my things before making my back to the guest bedroom. dropping off my things in the room before taking a deep breath making my way towards the kitchen. 

Walking into the kitchen, nicos back is turned to me. A sight that I'm not complaining about seeing. The way his mussels are ripping through his shirt, is enough to make my mouth water. What I'm doing. Get it together. 

Walking further into the kitchen, I get a better look at what he's cooking, pasta boiling the water and it looks like he's making a type of sauce. Smiling softly to myself, at how sweet he is. 

“Do you need any help?” I say breaking the silence. Nico turned around quickly, a smile dancing on his face. “No, I'm okay, thank you though. How was your shower?” he asks before turning back to the stove again. 

“It was good, thank you” I say, still standing awkwardly in the kitchen, not sure where to go or what to do. “I can feel your nerves from over here y/n.” nicos voice breaks through the kitchen as he speaks, “I'm sorry, I'm nervous.” I nervously laughed out loud. “Why?” Nico says as he circles his way around the counter leaning against it, in front of me. 

“You make me nervous, I don't know how to act around you.'' I said truthfully to him, while looking in his eyes. “You make me nervous too, don't worry” he says as he looks me up and down, his gaze feels like summer sun on my skin, leaving trails of heat throughout my body. 

“Dinner will be ready in 15 minutes, feel free to take a seat, or keep standing there checking me out. Either work for me” nico says to me, winking as he walks around the kitchen again. I'm frozen in place. What just happened? Is Nico flirting with me? The wink? Holy shit.

My mind and body are on fire, as I walk over to the island to sit down. Tension fills the air, I sit there for a few minutes trying to wrack my brain of something to say.

Nico beats me to it before I have the chance to open my mouth. “You look different” he says, back still turned towards me. “What do you mean by different? Is that a good or bad thing?”. “Not bad,” he replies now, turning to look at me, “just older, I'm not sure how to explain it, but you look good.” 

“Thank you?” i say my cheeks are warming with blush. “You’re welcome” he hums back. “You look really good too” I say, Nico chuckles at me “shit, sorry. You look good like everything you know? Mussels, everything. I'm rambling, shit. this is embarrassing." I say, dropping my head into my hands with a groan. 

“I found it cute, don't worry pretty girl.'' Turning around to get plates out of the cabinet.  Pretty girl. Gosh he's making it harder to not go pounce on him right this second. 

“Dinners done, are you ready to eat?” he says a few moments later, nodding my head at nico as he looks my way. Grabbing two plates filling them with the pasta he made , which looked so good. My stomach growling, reminding me how hungry I am. 

Placing my plate in front of me, along with a glass of wine that I didn't even see him pour. “I think you might need this after today” he says justering to the wine, as he takes a seat next to me. “How'd you know?” I slowly laughed to him, “this food looks so good, nico. Thank you so much” 

“You don't have to thank me, y/n but, you're very welcome.” he says to me. “Now eat, I heard your stomach growl in the kitchen.” he says in a teasing tone. My eyes widened, quickly grabbing my fork, and digging in. the flavors, melting on my tongue. I internally moan at the taste.”fuck this is so good” i say with a mouth half full. Forgetting Nico is right next to me, I'm quick to cover my mouth with my hand. 

“I'm glad you enjoy it.” Nico says, smiling at me before taking another bite. Nico and I make small talk as we eat, talking about anything from hockey and my brothers to my job in Vancouver, and everything in between. Finding myself laughing and blushing more than I would have liked. Nicos charm pulled me in, and I couldn't find a care in me to stop falling for it. 

“Thank you again for dinner nico” I say as he clears the plates. “Of course, not everyday I get to cook for thee, y/n hughes” “shut up” I laugh back at him. 

“At least let me do those dishes, since you made dinner,” I say , making my way to the sink where Nico is standing. “No way, go sit back down,” Nico says, looking down at me. “I'm not taking no for an answer nico.” I say placing my hands on my hips, “fine, but I'll dry them.” he says, narrowing his eyes at me.

 “I know why Jack and Luke say you're bossy”. “Hey now. I'm not that bossy, shut it” turning my body away from him as I speak. Turning on the sink, grabbing the sponge and soap, and began washing the plates in the sink.

Nico just chuckles in response. We began a system of wash, dry, wash dry. The silence is comfortable as we work in peace. It almost feels domestic? Something that I could get used to. y/n stop thinking about that. It will never happen.

“y/n” nico says snapping me out of my day dream, “hmm?” “You've been washing the same plate for the last 2 minutes. I'm pretty sure that it's clean ""oh!" I say looking down at the practically shiny plate in my hands, “here you go I'm sorry” handing him the plate, our hands grazing, making my heart rate speed up. 

I have to get out of the kitchen, I say to myself. Turning off the water and drying my hands on the towel, stepping away from the sink, locking my eyes on my sock covered feet. 

“Are you okay?” Nico asks me, raising my head to look at him. “Yes I'm okay, just tired,” I say softly. “I think I might head to bed, see if Jack or Luke responded to me or not.” 

“Of course, feel free.” Nico says, while putting the dishes away. “Okay..thank you again for dinner, again. Goodnight.” I say as I make my way out of the kitchen, Nico following behind me. “Good night y/n.” he says to me with a small smile on his face, i smile in return and make my way to the guest room for the night. 

Closing the door behind me, I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding in. making my way over to the phone to see that neither jack or luke have responded to me, a frown falling on my face. I call them each again, even sending Quinn a text asking if he's heard of them. 

Locking my phone, setting it back on the bedside table, I pull back the blankets settling into the bed. Slowly sinking into the comfort of the bed, I can feel the effects of today hitting my body. My eyes slowly closing, the one thing crossing my mind is nico. 

Just as I'm able to fully close my eyes, I hear a knock on the door. Getting out of bed, opening the door to see a now shirtless nico in sweatpants standing in front me. Hair messy, like he's been running his hand constantly through it. 

“Everything okay, did you need something?” I ask him, trying to keep my eyes on his face only. “Everything is fine, yes” he replies to me quickly. “Are you sure?” I ask again, feeling like he hasn't told me the whole story yet.

“Can I do something?” He asks me if I can feel his eyes looking at my lips, “yes?” I say swallowing quickly. Nico takes a step more, until he's directly in front of me, his face a few inches from mine. 

“I shouldn't want to kiss you y/n '' he begins, my breath hitching as he places both of his hands on my hips, his thumbs tracing small circles on them. “I shouldn't have these thoughts about you. Youre jack and lukes older sister, fuck i should be thinking about you like this.” he says now locking his eyes with mine.

“I can't help myself though, everything about you is perfect. I want you all to myself.” one of his hands begins tracing up my side, making its way to the side of my neck holding it place, lifting my head to meet his face better. 

“I want you so bad. I can't have you though. You're like a forbidden fruit that i want to taste and kiss and love so bad but i can't have you, and it's killing me.” he finishes dropping his head lower to mine, our faces now only a few centimeters apart. 

“Who says you can't have me?” I say softly, not trusting my voice, trailing my hands around his neck. “What if I want you too?” I whisper out before connecting our lips together. 

Nico is quick to respond, pulling my body flush against his, our lips dancing together. His hand trailing down to my ass, grabbing a handful of it before pulling away, smiling at me, “I've wanted to do that all day” he smirked at me, before connecting our lips together again. His tongue enters my mouth as we fight for dominance, deciding to let Nico win. 

I began to walk backwards towards the bed, hoping Nico would follow. Before I know it he's picking me up, throwing me over his shoulder, walking down the hallway and tossing me on the bed in his bedroom. 

I look at the room around me, taking in every detail, before locking eyes with nico who's now looking at me from above. The way his chain dangles in my face, and his brown eyes look in the dimly lit room, and how his chest rises and falls is a sight I want to see forever and forever.

“Take a picture, it'll last longer.” he smirks to me, “you're just so pretty” i say as i run my hands through his hair. “Isn't that something i'm supposed to say?” he asks as he begins to place soft kisses down my exposed neck. 

“Maybe you could show me instead?” I say, pushing my lips to his again. His hands quickly fell underneath my shirt, tracing up my bare sides. I remove my hands from nicos hair, pushing myself up from the bed. Pulling off my shirt, throwing it somewhere behind us, clipping my bra, tossing it in the same direction as my shirt. Now leaving myself completely bare in front of nico besides my shorts. 

Our chests are raising and falling together, our eyes locked. “y/n..” nico says to me breathlessly. “Fuck you’re so beautiful” his hands running along my bare sides and underneath my breasts. “Are you sure about this?” he asks me, our faces close together again, “i've never been so sure about anything in my life, Nico please touch me.” desperation in my voice dripping like honey. 

A growl like noise rips through nico, as he reconnects our lips together again. His hands are everywhere, heat spreading all throughout my body. I feel him everywhere. I want him everywhere. 

If he's a forbidden fruit, then why does it feel so good?