#it's mostly just me having thoughts again

[leo-in-the-pitt]

Look Out For Her

Summary: 4 years later and your almost done with residency. But it feels like your relationship with Jack may be coming to an end too. That is until you’re hurt and he has to come to your rescue, that he reveals his true feelings for you.

Warnings: Established relationship, implied age gap, strong language, sexual assault, mentions of alcohol, possessiveness, mostly fluff

This is possibly a Chapter 1!

———————————————————————

You were half way through your 4th and final year of ER residency. Somehow still learning the ropes of being cheif resident. It wasn’t easy to have the respect of your fellow co-residents and interns when you were in a relationship with Dr. Jack Abbott, an ER attending but, he made it worth it. Most of the time at least.

Getting to this point in your relationship wasn’t always easy in anyway. What started as hook ups, turned into arguements during every shift you worked together until you cut it off. But when 3rd year came around, you guys got close again, he let you in and you let him in.

A year and a half. In your mind, this was the start of forever. At least that’s what you thought.

For the past month, Abbotts been distant and you didn’t understand why. Picking up shifts on the days you were both off, date nights were becoming a rarity, bailing on nights out with your friends.

You had a week off coming up and wanted to see if you could make it up to him, for whatever you did even though you didn’t even know where to begin.

You moved in with him 6 months into the relationship. Everyone told you it was quick but, it felt like the right decision at the time.

You woke up early while he was still at work to go pick up breakfast from his favorite spot downtown. Got home made your famous homemade peanut butter cookies that he loved. Had his favorite movies lined up, ready to play. Even put on lingerie under your clothes, ready for whatever he wanted.

You heard keys in the door and were excited for him to see what was waiting for him.

There he was. Silver curls. Black scrubs. Go-bag over one shoulder. You could look at him forever.

“There’s my favorite guy.” You ran up to him to give him a hg and kiss.

He hugged you back but, swerved his head ever so slightly when you went in to kiss him.

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Just had a long night. Not really in the mood for anything.”

“I planned out quite the morning for us.” You smiled at him.

“Think I’m just gonna go hop in the shower then head to bed for a little bit.” He started to walk away.

You quickly turned around to him. “Okay, no, what is your problem? Did I do something? Cause for the past month you’ve been acting cold. Blowing me off ever chance you get.”

He stopped in his tracks and slowly turned to face you. He looked pissed. You’d only ever seen him angry like that once during a stupid fight you guys had at the beginning of the relationship.

“You left your laptop open.”

“Okay and? I’m I supposed to know what that means?”

“Were you going to tell me that you have a bunch of interviews for attending jobs at other hospitals? Or were you just going to tell me you were leaving one day?”

“Jack everyone goes to multiple interviews. You literally did the same when you were in my position.”

“One of those is across the country.”, he paused, “Were you gonna pack up and fly over there without telling me?”

“Thought maybe you could come with me and we could make a trip out of it actually.”

He put his head in his hands. “Do you want to leave?” His voice cracked.

“What? Why would I want to leave you Jack? I literally have an interview with Robby in 2 weeks for a spot here. I’m just trying to see what else is out there too.”

“But you have everything you could need right here! Why do you wanna give it all up!He raised his voice at you.”

You took a step back.

“Don’t yell at me.” You felt your breathing become faster, chest heavy.

“Why would you not tell me? This is something we should be talking about together. This isn’t just about you.”

“And it’s not just about you. It’s my future Jack. My career we’re talking about.” You said sternly.

“So where do I fit into that future then?”

You didn’t know how to answer. “You know I love you.”

“I sense a but coming here.”

You took a deep breath. “But there’s an emergency medicine research fellowship in California. They’re really interested in me Jack. Like really interested.”

“Sounds like you made up your mind already.” He walked away and went into the bedroom.

“Jack please. I didn’t say yes to anything yet. I still have to go over there and meet with them. I might end up hating it.”

He was throwing clothes into his go-bag. You grabbed his arm and he swiftly pulled away.

“So that’s it? You’re just going to leave? Where are you even going?”

He held both hands up in the air. “I just need some air.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know. I- I just can’t do this with you right now.”

“So if not now, then when. Jack. Come on we talked about this. Never leave mad at each other.”

“I’m not mad.”, he looked down at you, “Just disappointed.”

He grabbed his bag and walked out of the room. You felt the tears start to run down your face.

“Jack please.” You begged.

You heard him pick his keys up off the table and door slam closed behind him.

You broke. Tears streaming down your face. You sat on the edge of the bed, head in hands. Your reached into your pocket for your phone and tried to call him.

Once. Twice. Three times with no answer. Straight to voicemail.

You laid in bed, crying. Eyes already swelling. After went felt like an eternity, you fell asleep.

You woke to the sound of a text message.

Please be Jack.

It wasn’t. Just Langdon.

He knew you were planning Jacks favorites for the morning and wanted to know how it went. You typed out as much of what just happened as you could. He called immediately.

He could hear you crying again.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

“Frank, I- I don’t know what to do. I don’t know where he went. He turned his location off. He won’t answer my calls or texts. I just wanna know that he’s okay.” You voice broke as you tried to get the words out.

“Hey look I’m just gonna come over okay?” Gimme like 20 minutes, I’ll be right there. Please just hold on.”

“Okay.” He hung up.

You got out of bed and threw on one of Jacks sweaters. Beers of the Burgh. Him and Robby went together every year. You hated beer so you never went, just let them have their special guy time.

You went into the bathroom and saw how bloodshot your eyes had become. Splashed some water on your face and went into the living room.

Almost exactly 20 minutes later. A knock on your front door. Langdon.

You opened the door.

“Hey kid.” He always called you could since the first day you met even though he was only 4 years older.

Tears again. You almost fell to the floor. He caught you and lifted you up.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, I got you.”

He walked you into the kitchen, had you sit at one of the bar stools and went to get you a glass of water. He knew his way around. Afterall he did help you move in and came over often for movie nights when Jack was at work.

You spent the next hour trying to explain what happened. Talking. Crying. He listened to it all.

“Have you tried to call him again?”

You sniffled. “No, if he doesn’t want to talk to me, I can’t make him.”

“He has to come back eventually you know?”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You wiped your eyes onto your sleeve.

“Hey, me and some of the others from work were gonna go out later for some drinks downtown. Probably do some bar hopping. Maybe you should come? Get your mind off of things for a little bit?”

“What if he comes back and I’m not here?”

“Maybe that’d be for the best. Think you both need some time to cool off.”

You agreed. “Yeah sure why the hell not. He never wants to come out with me anyway.”

“Alright, go get ready then.”

“It’s early.”

“Its 5:30 and you definitely take forever to get ready. Plus you gotta unpuff your eyes.”

You quickly turned to the clock on the kitchen wall. Shit, how long were you asleep for? How long was he gone for?

“Okay alright then. Are you gonna stay here?”

“Yeah I’ll just watch some tv or something while you get ready. I’ll drive us.”

You went into the bedroom, scavenging the closet for something to wear. Red dress. Jack picked it out one day when you two were at the mall a couple months ago. You hadn’t worn it yet. You were waiting until he finally decided to go out-out with you. Which obviously never came.

You grabbed the dress, his favorite matching bra and pantie set and went to shower. There was a part of you that wanted him to come home to see you. But at the same time you just wanted to forget about all that happened just a few hours earlier.

Out the shower. Quickly dried your hair. Threw some light curls in it. Jacks favorite hairstyle on you. You didn’t like makeup but, put some mascara and lipgloss on anyway.

You walked into the bedroom to grab your little black heels. And walked back out into the kitchen.

Langdon was laying on your couch on his phone.

“Ugh, told you you were gonna take forever. It’s time to go, everyone’s of there way to the first place.” He sat up and turned around. “Damn kid, you clean up nice.”

“Well thanks Frank.” You gave him a side eye.

“You hoping to run into him tonight or something?”

“I- don’t know, it’s just that he picked this outfit out so, I don’t know maybe I guess.”

It’s almost as if Jack knew you were talking about him. Keys jingled in the door. It’s him.

He opened the door to see you standing there in the dress he picked out.

You both stared at each other while Langdon looked back and forth, unsure if he should leave you two alone.

“You look good. Really good.” He scanned you top to bottom.

Your heart was about to jump out of your chest. “Thanks.”

You turned towards Langdon, “We gotta go.”

“Yeah sure.” He jumped up and walked towards the door. He stopped in front of Jack.

“Gimme a second with her.”

Langdon shook his head and walked passed Jack and out into the hallway.

“Can we talk?”

“Now’s clearly not the time.” You walked into the bedroom, grabbed his sweater off the bed and walked out. “I have places to be.”

“Where exactly are you going anyway?”

“Why does it matter to you? I didn’t know where you were all damn day.”

“I was at the park. The park I asked you to be my girlfriend in.”

“You just sat there in your scrubs all day?”

He looked down at his clothes. “I’m actually going back in tonight for a shift.”

You scoffed. “Typical. Anything to avoid me huh?”

“I’m here now, aren’t I? I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“I’m clearly not Jack. Please just let me through.”

“Just be safe. Okay?” He stepped out of the doorway and out of your way.

“Always.” And you left.

Langdon was waiting in the hall for you. You walked right passed him.

“Hey.” He stopped Langdon. “Thank you for taking care of her.”

“I shouldn’t have to.” And with that you were both on your way.

At the first bar you met up with other coworkers. Nurses, coresidents, EMTs. And apparently more people were on the way.

“Didn’t realize how many people were coming tonight?” You yelled over the music.

“Yeah me either.” Shrugged Langdon.

After the first 2 drinks and tequila shot, you realized you had ate all day. And you can’t handle your liquor.

You sat alone at the bar sipping water, looking down at your phone lock screen. A picture of you and Jack at a concert together, happy. He wasn’t into live music but, if it were for you, he’d listen to anything.

“Boyfriend couldn’t make it?”said the bartender nodding down at your phone.

“Yeah something like that.”

“That’s his problem. You look good.”

You smiled. Langdon came up behind you.

“Hey we’re heading across the street. Heard it’s 90s music night over there.”

You got up and went with the group. Thought you’d feel better by now. That you’d be able to distract yourself by talking to everyone, drinking, and listening to the music while dancing. It wasn’t working well.

Here you had 2 more drinks. 2 more shots.

Onto the next bar.

By this time, well over a a dozen people were apart of the group.

Fourth bar. More drinks. More shots. And you could feel it. But the more you drank the more you thought about him.

You went to sit at the bar alone. You checked you phone to see that he turned his location back on. The hospital, of course.

One the nurses came up to you. “Come on girl! Let’s go dance!”

“Yeah I’ll be right there.”

No texts or calls from him.

You took a deep breath and another sip of water. As you got up, you saw a guy watching you from the corner of the room. He winked and nodded his head at you. You politely smiled and went to your friends.

No matter what, Jack wouldn’t leave your mind.

There he was. The guy watching you across the room.

“Hey baby, looking good tonight.”

“Haha, thanks.” You were uncomfortable with how close he was to your face but didn’t want any problems.

“You got a man?”

“Yeah I do a actually.”

He scanned the room. “Guess he’s not here tonight huh?”

“He couldn’t make it. Working.”

“Well that’s his loss.”

Langdon spotted you across the dance floor.

“Hey, you gotta go see Donnie playing darts. It’s crazy!”

“Yeah sure.” You turned to the stranger and half waved goodbye.

“See you later.” He winked at you.

“Who the hell was that?”

“No idea.”

“Come on, stay close.”

“What about the darts?”

“They don’t even have darts here.”

It was now 1AM. You head pounding. Each room spinning. One last bar. One more drink. You lost count.

“Come on, one more tequila shot girl!”

“Yeah sure whatever.” You took it hoping the alcohol would down the feelings out of you.

Everyone was dancing, having a good time. You just wanted to be in Jacks arms, in your bed, in the apartment you had shared for over a year.

You looked over at a couple of your friends. “I’ll be right back.” Those who heard you nodded their heads.

You went outside. Alone. Still carrying Jakcs sweater, you decided to put it on. Not zipping it up but, just wrapping it around your body. You stood up against the wall on the side of the bar. Out of view.

Took out your phone. Stared. And finally dialed Jack’s number. No answer. Try one more time. Nothing.

But the thrid time you left a voicemail.

“Jack, it’s me. Um you probably knew that already, you know caller ID and everything. B-but,” your words one slipping into another, “I think I just want to say I’m sorry. I should’ve talked to you about leaving. I’m stupid I know. But I love you. I always have. I- always will. I don’t want to leave you. Ever. You’re it for me Jack Abbott. I don’t want anyone else, or anything else. You’re the person I’ve been looking for my whole life. You make me a better person. I want you forever. Please just pick up the god damn phone. I need to hear your voice,”

You heard the bar door open behind you. The music rushed out into the street before becoming quiet again.

The stranger. Back again.

“Hey you get lost out here?”

“Jack I gotta go, I’ll see you soon.” You hung up.

“Not lost, just needed some air.”

“Yeah, yeah. It can get so hot in there.” He stepped closer to your body. “You know when I said you looked good tonight, baby I meant it.” He licked his lips.

“Thanks again.” You tried to step around him to go back inside.

He blocked you.

“Where you rushing off to? Not like your man is here to take care of you.”

“I gotta get back to my friends.”

“It’s okay I can take care of you out here.” He wrapped his arm around your waist pulling you closer to him.

Your body now pressed against his. Heart pounding in your ears. He grabbed your waist with his other had before reaching down to cup your ass.

You tried to pull away. But his grip was tight. He pushed you against the cold brick wall, pinning you body with his. One hand on your waist. The other holding your arm against the wall. Scraping the skin on the back of your arm right off.

He leaned down into your ear. “Come on sweetheart. I can treat you better then he can.” His hand sliding to meet the bottom of that red dress. “I’ll show you want a real man looks like.” You felt his cold hand on your thigh.

This can’t be happening. Not like this. Not right in front of the bar. Where is everybody? Langdon? Oh god, where’s Jack?

All the thoughts ran through your head.

He kissed your cheek. You flinched.

“Damn sweetheart, wanna play hard to get I see. I can play along with that.”

He let go of your arm. He started to reach for your neck.

You pushed him. Hard. He stumbled back.

“You dumb bitch. You’re gonna have to pay for that.” He took a step towards you.

Pain. Throbbing pain was the next thing you remembered. Then blood. Yours? Or his?

Both.

You punched him. Right in the face.

You used to kickbox not long ago. Guess you still remember how to swing.

“Fucking bitch.”

You screamed. Loud. Loud enough for the security guards to hear you inside the bar. They came running around the corner.

Blood was pouring out of his crooked nose. Blood dripping down your arm from your knuckles.

One security guard grabbed him. “Guess you met you match huh? Come on, got some cops that are gonna love your ass.” He took him away.

“You alright? Come on let’s get you inside and get that cleaned up.” He walked you inside.

———————————————————————

Jack got your voicemail. Almost right after you hung up. He tried to call you back. No answer.

So he called Langdon, who was still inside the bar.

“Hey man, what’s up?” Langdon was drunk.

“Dude I can smell the alcohol on your breath from here.”

“Yeah well you should be here! It’s a great time!”

“Where is she?”

“You gotta be more specific broo”

“My girlfriend. You know the one you’re supposed to be looking out for. She called me. Left a voicemail actually. Sounded like she was talking to someone. Then hung up. Where is she?”

Langdon scanned the room. “Uh I don’t know man.”

“Can you go find her please? She sounded drunk , almost as drunk as you. I’m worried. She doesn’t handle her liquor well.”

“Yeah man, I gotchu, I’ll go find her.”

“Alright call me when you find her. I wanna talk to her.”

“Aye aye captain.”

And Langdon hung up.

He walked around the room. Asking anyone and everyone if they had seen you. No one knew where you went.

That was until you walked back in with security.

———————————————————————

Everyone immediately saw you.

Red dress with blood down the side. Blood running down your forearm. Knuckles bruised and swollen already.

You heard a murmur of “what the fucks” and “oh shits”

Langdon came running over almost immediately sobering him up seeing you like that.

“What the fuck happened?!” He reached to grab your blooded fist.

You winced in pain. Mascara running down you face. “The guy from the other bar.” Yo could barely get the words out.

He looked over your shoulder and saw the guy standing outside with security and blood running down his face.

“Oh I’m gonna go kick his ass!” He tried to get passed you.

“No, no, Langdon, stop, the police are already coming.”

“I don’t give a fuck, I’m gonna break his nose some more.”

“Please, just go get me some ice.”

“What’d he do to you?”

“Ice, Frank, please.”

He went up to the bar for your ice. You could see the police lights shining through the window.

3 police cars. 6 police officers.

You told everyone to stay inside while you went to talk to them. Langdon begged to go with you so you gave in and let him.

At this point, the guy was already sitting in the back of one of their cars. Hands cuffed behind his back.

You told them exactly what happened as you held the ice pack against your knuckles.

Langdons eyes teared up hearing what happened. He was supposed to protect you.

“You wanna press charges?” said one of the officers.

“Of fucking course she does.” Said Langdon.

“I need to hear it from her.”

You shook your head yes.

“You can either come to the station now. Or you can come in the morning.”

“What she needs is to go to the hospital. The hand is broken. Definitely in multiple places.”

“No, it’s not, I’m fine.”

“I’m literally a doctor, how are you gonna tell me it’s not broken? Have you not looked at your own hand?”

You took the ice off. Your hand was basically twice its original size. Fuck. He was right.

“Well that guy wants to go to the hospital too. Can’t take y’all to the same place so where you wanna go so we can send him somewhere else?”

“Can you take me to Pittsburgh Trauma?”

“Yeah let’s go.” You gestured to the police cruiser and opened up the door for you.

“Can I come with?” Langdon asked him.

“Absolutely not. Get a ride or call an Uber. You’re drunk. Drive yourself and I’ll have you arrested.”

“I’ll be right there, okay? I promise you.”

He went back inside the bar.

———————————————————————

All you could think about on the ride there was Jack. How he had to see you like this.

You finally checked your cellphone.

5 unread texts messages. 7 missed phone calls. And one voicemail. All from him.

You presssed play.

“Hey, it’s me. I know you probably don’t wanna hear from me right now and even if you do it’s just the alcohol talking. But look, I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted the way that I did. I guess I’m just scared. I don’t want you to go. I can’t afford to lose you. Of course I want you to pursue whatever career opportunities you want, but I don’t think I can live without you. You make me want to be a better man. You make everyone around here better. I love you. I want to spend my life with you. I want to marry you. Have a family with you. All here, all in Pittsburgh. I want whatever you’ll give me. I- I just need to to stay. Please. Look I gotta get back to work but call me back when you get this okay? Love you babygirl. See you soon.”

You didn’t know if your tears where from the throbbing pain shooting down your arm or from his words.

You got to the ambulance bay. You swung your legs out of the car. Feet killing you from the heels. The officer helped you out of the car and walked you inside barefoot.

One of your coresidents spotted you.

“What the fuck? Do I even want to know what happened here?”

“Get Jack, please.” You said practically begging.

You waited for what felt like an eternity from him to find Jack in a patients room.

“This better be important. I was in the middle of something.” Jack snapped his off into the trash.

He looked up and his eyes caught yours.

“What the fu-“ he ran over to you.

He grabbed your arm as you winced and pulled back in pain.

“Babygirl what happened to you?” He leaned down to look into your eyes.

You broke. Immediately tears poured down your face.

“Come here, come here. I got you, you’re alright. No one gonna hurt you. You’re safe with me here.”

He held you in his arms while caressing your hair. The smell of alcohol of your breath obvious. “Come on, let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around you and walked you into a room and sat you down on the bed.

Your coresident ran to get all the supplies needed to clean and bandage you up.

“Get the hell out. I got this. Close the door of your way out.”

It was now just the two of you. Alone.

“Babygirl I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there with you. I shouldn’t have let you go.”

He started to clean the now dry blood off of you.

“It’s not your fault.”

“Do you wanna tell me how this happened?”

So you told him all of it. Every single detail.

“I’m gonna find that motherfucker, I swear to god. I’m gonna break his fucking kneecaps.”

“Jack, calm down.”

“No, he hurt you. I’m gonna hurt him.”

“His nose is already broken Jack.”

“I don’t give a fuck. He’s gonna get way worse than that from me.”

“Jack.” He kept cleaning your hand.

“Jack look at me.”

He slowly lifted his head until his eyes met yours.

“I’m gonna press charges. Whichever ones I can. I want them all.”

There was a knock of the door. One of the favorite night shift nurses.

“Hey sweetie brought you a fresh pair of scrubs and our finest grippy socks. X-rays ready for you. Just come out to the hall when your ready darling.”

“Thank you.”

“You need me to help you?”

“I can get dressed myself. You have other patients anyway.”

“Those patients don’t matter to me. You’re the only one I care about here.”

“Can I just have a minute alone Jack?”

He left you to change.you looked at your fist for the first time since you got to the hospital. Looked slightly better without all the blood.

You went into the hall and the nurse walked you down to xray as Jack waited by your room. Thank god the pain meds kicked in with the alcohol because you could barely open your hand.

As you walked back, you heard yelling.

“You were supposed to be fucking watching her! Not getting filthy fucking drunk and letting her wonder off alone!” Jack was throwing his hands in the air.

Langdon stepped up to his face. “I shouldn’t have to watch her for you. You’re here fucking boyfriend. You should’ve been there yourself. Or better yet, she should’ve wanted to stay at home with you!”

“You think you can judge my relationship? Last time I checked I’m not the one in the middle of a divorce and custody battle.”

“Jack!” You yelled down the hall. “Don’t.”

You walked over and pushed him into your room.

“Frank, I don’t blame you for any of this. I need you to know that.”

“No, he’s right, I should’ve been keeping my eyes on you. This shouldn’t have happened.”

“But it did happen. I’m okay. Or at least I will be. I’m not a kid, you don’t need to keep me on a leash. I shouldn’t have gone out there alone. No ones here to blame except the man who did this okay?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.” You hugged him and walked back into your room.

Jack was pacing back and forth.

“I’m okay Jack. You can calm down.”

Another knock on the door. “X-rays are up.”

He walked over to the computer to open them up.

“What do you see?”

“Boxers fracture.” You pointed to the obvious gap between your bones.

“Gotta go get ortho to come set it in place.”

“Can you just do it?”

“I’ve hurt you enough tonight.”

He left and came back with an ortho resident who reset your hand and put it in a brace. “Gonna need another xray in 3 weeks to see how it’s healing. In the meantime just rest, ice and elevate. You got a lot of swelling so take it easy please.”

Just you and Jack alone again.

“Jack can we talk about what you said?”

“Which part?”

“On the phone. Your voicemail.”

He knew exactly which part you were referring to but, wanted you to say it.

“The part where I said I want you to stay?”

You shook your head no.

“Then which part?”

“The part where you said you that you want to marry me. Have kids with me. Build a life with me here.”

“I meant it all. Every last part.”

“I’m not leaving. I’m going to cancel all the other interviews. I wanna stay here. With you.”

“You don’t need to do that for me. This is your career we’re talking about here. You can’t give up these opportunities. They won’t come around again.”

“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for us. Jack you’re more important than some job. This all means a lot to me but, it won’t mean anything if I can’t come home to you every night for the rest of my life.”

He leaned in a kissed you passionately. He pulled away and looked softly into your eyes.

“So Jack Abbott wants to marry me huh?” You said jokingly.

“Don’t worry I’m not gonna pull out a ring right now or anything. You gotta finish your residency first babygirl.”

“Well now I’ll be expecting a ring the day after I’m done.”

“Guess I better start working on that. But for now let’s get you and that broken hand home.”

“Your shift isn’t over for another 3 hours?”

“They’re gonna cover for me. Gotta get my lady home.”

The drive home was pretty silent. He just put your favorite Radiohead album on for you. He helped you out of his truck and lead you upstairs.

He helped you pick out your favorite pajamas and you went to take another shower. Forgot you had been wearing his favorite matching set under the dress when you left. Thought the night would be ending differently for you two.

Of course you were glad that you were on good terms now. But when he put his hand on your back as you were leaving the hospital, you flinched. And he definitely noticed.

Once the booze started to wear off, you started to realize the extent of what happening to you tonight.

You cried again in the shower. Used the hot water to wash away your tears for you. Put some drops in your eyes to hide the redness.

You took a deep breath before walking out to him in the kitchen. He was holding up the breakfast bagel you bought him that morning.

“Didn’t even see that you bought these.”

“You could always just eat it now if you want. Think I’m just gonna head to bed if that’s alright.”

He open the fridge and put the bagel back inside. “Yeah let’s go. I’m just gonna jump in the shower real quick.”

You climbed into bed. Curled yourself into a ball, facing away from where he would be laying. You were holding back tears. You wanted to be strong for him. There’s was already so much going on in your lives. The last thing he needed was to be worried about you more than he already was.

You head the bathroom door open and his footsteps coming closer. You closed you eyes and preteded to be asleep.

He peeked over to see you. Eyes closed. You felt as he crawled quietly into the bed to face you.

“Hey I know you’re not sleeping. We’ve been in the same bed for over a year now. You never fall asleep that fast.”

You let out a cry.

“Hey, come here. What’s wrong?” He put his hand on your back and you squirmed away as fast as you possibly could.

“I-I’m sorry”, you whimpered out.

“Can you look at me?”

You wiped the tears flowing down your cheek and rolled over to face him.

“You wanna talk about it yet?” He knew there was more going through your mind.

You shook your head. “I need you to hold me. Bu-but I’m scared for you to touch me. It’s not you, I- I don’t know what wrong with me right now. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault, okay?”

You sat up, “Can you just put your arm out?”

“Like this?” He put right arm straight out.

You laid down so that his arm was between your head and shoulder.

“Wrap your arms around me, please Jack.”

He brought you as close as you could get to him. You cried into his chest.

“I got you, I got you. Nobody’s gonna hurt you ever again alright?”

You nodded and lifted you head up. He wiped away your tears.

“I love you so much babygirl. So much.”

“I love you too.” You laid back down into his chest.

Jack was wrong you could fall asleep fast. But only when you were in his arms.

Things were gonna be different from now on. Cause you ever trust anyone to put their hands on you again?

———————————————————————

Probably gonna end up making this a short series! Maybe just one more part! Let know what you guys think!

[ohhowjooniewept]

ex childhood best friend jungkook x y/n

angst, fluff, smut

living in a small town, secluded from the majority of other neighbouring cities was a life most couldn’t handle. it involved everyone knowing each other, secrets, and a rigid routine - a sense of day to day normalcy that felt more manufactured if anything. you had lived here since birth, much to your disdain, and you wanted nothing else than to just pack up and leave. to never see anyone ever again. to never see him again.

you were a quiet person by nature, reserved by choice. knowing everyone meant you had to be cordial regardless of your true feelings, and lord knew you had many opinions about the people you shared the same streets and establishments with. the only people you loved, entirely, were yoongi and yejin - the dark haired twins who had moved here five years ago. they didn’t talk much, and certainly didn’t delve into why they would move to such a secluded place. you didn’t pry, there were too many people here seeking secrets already.

the town was mostly run and governed by 6 families, all with different abilities and power. they, in turn, were managed by one single individual - hyunki jeon. they were all relatively nice, genuinely - not the sickly fake sort that you had been used to all your life. the older man, however, was known for his stoicism, always unfeeling and certainly not kind. their sons were around your age, and though you chose to stick to the twins, you had conversed with namjoon and taehyung a few times and found them to be lovely. it was jungkook, however, who made you raise your guard.

once all dimples and sparkly eyes; the tatted boy was an anomaly. people like him didn’t live in places like this, half rage and half silence. you knew him, once, when you were young. friendship was once defined to you with an 8 letter name, as the boy brought you such joy. you were inseparable, and his parents held a fondness for you that you were sure they didn’t hold for many. his grandfather did not share the same sentiments - it was clear to all he found you to be unworthy, the fact you loitered in his home and ate his food whilst being from such a lowly family disgusted him. you were a child, in need of love and affection, two things jungkook and his parents offered in absence of your own mother and father. he did not like this. but no matter, it all meant nothing in the end.

you both turned twelve, only a few days apart, and you’d shown up at your usual hang out spot to actually celebrate together. you brought a handmade gift, hats and a little cake you spent time baking yourself, excited to show him. you had planned this together for months and months and months; the excitement was palpable. only, he didn’t show.

you’d spent an hour waiting, at first worried due to his lateness. he was always early, always. you waited another hour in hope, and another hour after that in confusion. four hours in, you stupidly realised he had no intention of coming down but yet, your heart still quickened in worry. after you packed everything up, you took a quick walk to his home, sat on the end of the street you lived on, wrapping your knuckles on the door.

the door swung open to reveal jungkook who’s eyes held a swirl of guilt you couldn’t quite place. he simply stood, both unmoving and quiet. you noticed his face seemed blotchy, as though he had been crying and the shake of his hands were clear to you.

“are..are you okay? thought we were gonna celebrate.” you asked, eyebrows furrowed.

“you should go home, y/n.” he replied, cold and stiff. your eyebrows furrowed even further as a frown appeared.

“is today not a good day? i’ve been waiting for a while, you could have told me.” you mumbled. you felt so confused. “i made you a cake.”

he watched as you revealed it, showing it to him with a glimmer of hope.

“i told you to go home.” he repeated, voice raising. “i don’t want your stupid cake, i don’t want to celebrate your stupid birthday and i don’t want to hang out with stupid you!”

your face was distraught, no doubt. you felt as though someone had punched you in the stomach, your best friend, your only repose in this horrible town, telling you to leave him alone and over what? what did you do? what had you done? being only twelve, you could feel your lip quivering and your eyes beginning to water.

“why are you being so mean?” you asked, hands shaking around the little cake tin. “i don’t get what’s happening, why..what did i do?”

he didn’t respond, your eyes meeting his to find his own unshed tears beginning to stream down his face. “we aren’t friends anymore, y/n. so please just leave me alone. don’t come here again.”

he stepped back before slamming the door shut in your face. little, newly twelve year old you stood, legs shaking in your pretty dress as sobs began to wrack your body. you left the cake tin at the door before grabbing the rest of your stuff and running home, tears ruining your vision.

you cried for months, not that anyone was there to care or listen. two absent parents and no siblings or cousins, no one really bothered to check in on you. all you had was jungkook, and he knew it and yet still pushed you to the side as though you meant nothing to him. as though the days you’d spend having family dinners at his house meant nothing, or the days you’d spend hours and hours and hours strolling through the forest and park just talking and enjoying each other’s presence.

jungkook, your only friend and the boy you fell in love with each passing spring, was also the boy who broke your heart. you’d never forget it, and you certainly weren’t ready to forgive.

——

“want to get a burger?” yoongi asked, hand running through his already messy hair.

the boy had shown up out of the blue, as he often did, at your house with no more than a food craving and a quiet grin.

you rolled your eyes before turning back around into the house. “yeah, let me put some concealer on first. i’ve been rotting away all day.”

he chuckled, stepping in behind you before closing the door. “what, parents not in?” you hummed, walking to your room. “are they ever?”

“touché. you know you can stay at mine, right? know you don’t like being here alone, yejin’s been saying you can share her room.”

you looked at him through your mirror, with a warm smile as you dabbed your makeup. “i know yoongs, love you both forever.”

he grinned again, stretching his arms before heading downstairs, waiting for you outside. after ten minutes, and a little walk, you stood in front of the old diner that had been here long before you were ever born. the decor was chipping and peeling, the seats uncomfortable but the staff were warm and sweet.

“there you guys are! what took you so long.” yejin grumbled, embracing you in a tight hug. “haven’t seen you in like a week, which is practically a millennia in this town. you good?”

“yeah, don’t worry. just didn’t feel to good; don’t want to spread anything.” you laughed, arm around her waist while yoongi wrapped an arm around your shoulders, walking towards your usual booth.

you slid in, yejin following and yoongi sitting in front as you watched your waitress come forward. you all ordered your usual cheeseburgers and milkshakes before giggling and chattering quietly as per usual. you never grew tired of the twins, they were your only joy in both this town and world - wherever they went, you wanted to follow and you knew they felt the same.

“i can’t be bothered going to the council meeting tonight.” yoongi groaned, head falling to the table with a quiet thump. “same old shit every single time. remember to clean the streets, report anything you see, bla bla bla.”

you grinned. “yeah, maybe they should get you up on that podium, hm? you seem to know the dialogue too well.”

he grimaced at you, before yejin shook her head. “i don’t know, i was getting groceries earlier and you know the lady that lives two streets down from the forest? the one with the cute gate?” you both nodded. “i overheard her chatting and i think something’s happened. i can’t imagine it’s anything too crazy, but she seemed to be fishing for something.” yejin muttered through bites.

“someone’s always fishing for secrets in this bastard place.” you frowned.

the toil of the bell on the door rang loudly, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up, lost in your thoughts. yoongi was playing with his food whilst yejin whispered some more gossip she overheard, making you all giggle absentmindedly.

“y/n?” you looked up, the sound of someone calling you gently pulling you out of your trance before you saw a familiar smile. jin.

you had spoken to him a few times, nothing extreme and certainly no long conversations or anything. he still went out of his way to say hello and give you a greeting whenever he’d see you, and your friends too. despite being from the eldest family of the 6, he was arguably the politest out of all of their children - known in town for being a sweet soul.

“hi!” you grinned softly up at him.

“sorry. this is so rude of me, i hope i’m not interrupting.” he flushed pink, eyes flickering to yejin who openly stared up at him with a tilt of her head. “not at all.” she answered for you, smoothly.

his eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before turning to you with a slight gulp. “could..could i just grab you for a moment? just need to speak privately with you.”

you hardly noticed his group of friends walking past him to a table a few seats down from yours, your eyes furrowing. you simply nodded, climbing over yejin to get out of the booth before following him outside. this was odd, you didn’t really have an established relationship with the guy so you were slightly uncomfortable, in all honesty.

“firstly, let me just apologise.” he began, nervously chuckling while shifting from foot to foot. “this isn’t something i usually do and i’m embarrassed but just wanna do this right, you know?”

you nodded, somewhat reassuringly which made him grin. “yejin..i really like her. i want to approach her but i get nervous and i’m so scared of embarrassing myself, which i think i’m doing right now actually.” his eyebrows furrowed.

you couldn’t help the soft smile that began to form on your lips. you knew your best friend would probably jump up and down screaming if she was privy to this information, considering she wouldn’t shut up about how handsome the tall boy was.

“jin, believe me when i say i think you’ll be okay.” you promised. “and she’s really easy to talk to, have you tried?”

he nodded, grinning back at you, relieved at your reassurance. “you think so? i tried the other week, you guys were at the park but, i couldn’t bring myself to come over, psyched myself out and i’m pretty sure yoongi noticed me going back and forth so..”

you laughed. “listen, just approach her. try catch her alone, even? she’d really like that, promise.”

he let out a short laugh. “i sound like a schoolboy, sorry to put this on you.” you shook your head, reaching out to pat this arm. “this is so cute, i’m happy you came to me.”

“i’ll let you get back to them, sorry again for taking your time. oh!” he stopped, turning to you again. “you’ll be attending the towns meeting right?”

you nodded, shuffling in your spot. “yeah, my parents aren’t..they’re not here so. i’ll go.”

it embarrassed you to your core knowing your parents were the way they were. abusive when around, which was rare these days - but that meant the burden of representing your family always fell on you. you hated it, couldn’t stand the pity looks and the murmurs people would share.

“i’ll see you there, then!” he simply assured, not an ounce of anything other than genuine niceness. “a few of us are getting drinks after, if you’re all down, i’d love for you guys to come.”

“yeah, i’ll let them know.”

soon, you were headed inside again. he thanked you again before moving to his table and you to yours, sliding in next to yoongi this time with a small grin over at yejin, who secretly had an inkling of what the conversation was about but didn’t pry.

you informed them on the offer to which yoongi shrugged. “could be fun, why not? i heard hoseok has a studio in his house and i have some questions i’ve wanted to ask for a while.”

“wow, yoongs. when people meet others for the first time, they usually extend a casual greeting.” yejin scoffed, eating the fries from his plate. “but yeah, let’s go, it could be fun.”

you grinned at her as yoongi laughed, stealing his plate back away from her. your eyes naturally drifted to behind yejin, where jin and his friends sat, your eyes casually flickering over all of them before they fell on him.

brown eyes were already watching you. your breath hitched slightly as you made eye contact with the boy that once ignited every emotion in your body to the surface, the boy that for some reason, was still able to. your throat bobbed, unable to look away for a few seconds before doing so, blinking rapidly to rid yourself of him in your brain; a futile attempt of building your walls up again. a single look was able to undo you - you had no idea it did worse to him.

jungkook, the boy that broke your heart, sat next to jin, appetite lost and throat constricting. you looked so beautiful today, he thought, though you always did - you were so good at making yourself smaller and unassuming wherever you went in town but he always managed to find you, to look at you. to really see you. he thought of you everyday, longed and yearned for you. it was all going to end today.

today, the time had finally come. he was free, and he was going to get his girl back.

——

the meeting had begun ten minutes ago and yet the overall atmosphere was off. everyone seemed rather unsettled, and frankly, it was clear that yejin’s earlier mention of something going on was actual fact.

after a few more minutes, the stage podium began to be surrounded by the jeon family. jungkook stood beside his mother, with a hand on her back and and one on his father’s too in clear assurance as the latter began speaking into the microphone. they looked exhausted, and despite your feelings for the boy, you felt a pang of worry. his parents had never shown anything but pure kindness to you, even after your friendship break up with jungkook - though they didn’t know the reason, alongside yourself, they didn’t treat you any different. his mother would drop off meals to your house, cookies and sweets whilst his dad personally paid for all of your after school clubs, and made sure your tutoring and hobbies were well nurtured. they loved you like their own, so were confused at the sudden distance between you and their son.

“thank you all for coming today. i wish this could be on better circumstances.” the older man began. “i regret to inform you of the passing of my father, hyunki jeon. he passed peacefully two nights ago surrounded by family. we ask for both your respect and discretion during this time.”

silence filled the room, everyone looking at one another. your eyes flickered to the tall, tatted man, standing tall and strong for his parents, only to notice his eyes already on you. you couldn’t bring yourself to look away, your chest rising and falling.

everytime you had seen jungkook over the years, you noticed how quiet he was. it was unsettling, the once bright boy so purposefully silent - but it was the look of anger that radiated from him that really shook you. he just seemed so on edge all the time, every council meeting, every time he was out with his friends - you noticed jimin, the candy haired boy, would often pat his back in comfort. though it didn’t alleviate the pain he caused you, you still had empathy for the sweet boy who once loved you as much as you loved him. you just wondered if he existed anymore.

even now, with eyes unmoving, you watched as he took in a deep breath, blinking slowly at you before forcibly looking away, and towards his mother who gently held his hand. she noticed his gaze your way, and offered a sad smile to which you quickly reciprocated.

“that was not what i was expecting.” yejin whispered, between you and yoongi. he nodded, scratching the back of his neck. “can’t say i’m too upset, he was a horrible man.”

you couldn’t bring yourself to really say anything, you had met the man’s cruelty personally years ago and it still made you shiver. your eyes flickered between the three people on stage, and though they looked exhausted and appropriately sympathetic, none looked overtly upset. no one was crying, nor distraught. people came up to extend their sadness, and they expressed their gratitude but again - they didn’t look like a family that had just lost a patriarch.

soon, you too rose, waiting your turn to wish your best wishes. yoongi and yejin had gone before you, extending polite exchanges, watching as they stepped to the side to let you forward.

upon sight of you, jungkook’s mother let out a little noise before stepping forward and wrapping you in her arms tightly. “oh my darling girl, i haven’t seen you all week, are you alright?”

your cheeks flushed pink, she usually dropped food off at your job as much as she could, considering you worked so close to her home. “I’m okay, just been sick. i’m so sorry for your loss.” your eyes turned to his father who also pulled you into an embrace. “thank you, sweetheart. don’t stress your head.” he cooed.

jungkook stood beside them. you pulled away, your eyes turning to him with a small frown. “sorry for your loss.” you murmured, shuffling.

“thank you, y/n. that’s very kind of you.” he responded, voice deep and fingers twitching. you simply nodded, lump in your throat at the intensity of his gaze before giving his parents one last small smile, turning to your friends and walking away.

“i know you hate him, but i very much think he wants you.” yoongi teased, with a giggling yejin circling around you outside. you scoffed, pushing his arm. “no he doesn’t. he made that very, very clear.”

“hm, i don’t know. i noticed him earlier in the diner, staring you down and when we were sat in the hall. he’s been pretty bold today, what’s changed?” yoongi questioned, rubbing his arm. “yeah, i noticed earlier when you and jin were talking outside, he was watching you guys, seemed a bit annoyed.” his sister continued, giggling away.

“you guys are genuinely insane.” you grumbled. “conspiracy theories won’t change anything.”

two seconds later, jin walked over, same grin on his face with two of his friends in tow. hoseok and jimin.

“hi! we’re getting drinks down at the bar, you guys still up to join?” he asked, nervously, eyes flickering between you all but mainly on yejin.

“depends..” she hummed, head tilting. “my drinks on you, jinnie.”

you watched as he nodded, trailing after her as she walked away forcing a laugh out of you and a grumble out of yoongi. hoseok and jimin walked closer to you, properly introducing themselves. yoongi’s sour mood improved in mere seconds once he began asking his questions to the younger boy, only for him to answer them with equal keenness.

“i’ve noticed you around a few times, sorry i haven’t introduced myself sooner.” jimin laughed, watching the two as you began stepping toe to toe. “that’s alright, everyone knows each other here anyway, no need for introductions.” you responded, prompting him to laugh even more.

“i get the sense you don’t like it here very much.” he questioned, cheekily.

“do you?” you asked, grin forming. you liked him already, all smiles and crinkled eyes. “because from where i’m standing, i don’t think there’s much to like about this place.”

“touché. can’t say i don’t agree with you, so why don’t you leave?” he asked, suddenly curious. “is it your boyfriend?”

you began coughing suddenly, eyes widening as you looked at him in pure shock. “boyfriend?”

“is he not? am i confused?” he matches your confusion, his own eyes widening.

“definitely, definitely not. pretty sure he doesn’t bat for women, so.” you shook your head, a blush on your cheeks.

“huh. all this time, jungkook’ll be pleased to hear that.”

your blood ran cold, your eyes flickering to the cheeky boy once more as you walked towards the bar. “what do you mean?”

he grinned, nice and wide before opening the door to the bar for you, wiggling his eyebrows. “oh nothing!”

before you could even begin questioning the boy, yejin called you over. you were sure your face was showcasing a million different emotions, but by the time your legs carried you over to the large bar, you noticed that it was mainly jin’s friends AKA the founding families’ sons. your eyebrows furrowed even more once you watched jungkook walk through the doors.

everyone seemed so cheery. even the tall tatted boy who surely should be in some sort of mourning, seemed much more relaxed than you’d ever seen him. his air of anger and quiet demeanour replaced by something that resembled peace.

“time to drink!” namjoon shouted at out, making everyone cheer. yoongi came up beside you, both of you unaware of jimin mumbling something in jungkook’s ear just behind you.

“not to be that person, but this is..” yoongi quietly whispered. “odd.” you finished for him.

“i can answer that for you.” someone wrapped their arms around you from behind, the stentch of both tequila and vodka swimming in the air. “tonight, we fucking celebrate.” taehyung laughed loudly, between you both, arms caging you both in by your shoulders.

yoongi’s face was priceless, both alarmed and curious. “uh..what exactly?”

“we celebrate because he’s dead. that bastard finally fucked off and took his blackmailing with him.” he grinned with a squeal, twirling around in front of you all before jumping behind the bar alongside the bartender, popping his hip. “so, i expect you all to get drunk, and cheer as much as you can. want him to hear us from beyond the grave.”

you felt slightly uncomfortable and frankly out of place. yoongi, yejin and yourself shared confused glances before the former was taken away by hoseok, no doubt to redirect the conversation to their shared interest in music and the latter’s attention taken by the tall haired boy who had bought her a drink. you stood, shuffling from foot to foot before taking a seat.

“two beers.” a voice behind you called to the bartender who nodded immediately. you didn’t have to turn to see who it was, but you simply ignored it, assuming he wasn’t taking to you.

once the beers were pushed forward, you watched as he stood beside you, taking a hold of one before sliding the other towards you. you gawked at him, confused. “drink.”

“w-what?”

he didn’t respond, simply drinking his beer with a deep rumble in his chest. you frowned up at him before childishly pushing the drink back at him, turning your back to him before catching the bartenders attention to order something else.

jungkook’s jaw twitched. he understood, of course he did, but you didn’t.

“i think we should talk.” he calmly said, swiping his card for your drink before you could protest.

you scoffed, frown deepening. “i don’t have anything to say to you, jungkook.”

“i know, baby, but i’m gonna need you to look at me, please?”

your breath hitched, baby? that was new, and you could feel something locked and hidden away force its way to the surface in your stomach. you hated that you liked it, hated that it made you pool between your legs.

you nibbled on your bottom lip. your hands were beginning to shake again, a tick that only amplified when you were in anxiety inducing situations and you were pretty sure nothing could get you as nervous as the situation you were currently in.

“5 minutes? i know i don’t deserve your time but i swear i’ll make it worth it.” he all but begged making you exhale deeply before your eyes flickered over to him slowly.

his hair, slightly messy, outfit all black to signify his mourning. although he looked anything but a mourner - frankly, he looked downright sinful and it made your head swim.

“2 minutes. that’s all you get, and then you go back to leaving me alone.” you hissed at him, sliding off of your stool before looking away, waiting for him to lead away.

you missed the way his jaw ticked, before nodding, doing exactly that. his long legs guided you to a quiet room beside the bar, both yoongi and yejin watching you carefully. the latter grabbed your arm before you could walk on, eyes narrowing suspiciously at jungkook. “call us if you need us, hm?”

you nodded, before catching up to jungkook. he closed the door behind you, watching as you sat on a chair. the room was relatively bare, a big table in the middle where no doubt the governing body often came. you felt slightly out of place but you couldn’t pass up this opportunity out of pure curiosity.

jungkook pulled a seat out beside you, sitting down. it surprised you slightly, you expected him to sit opposite you, or even assert himself by sitting at the top of the table but this? interesting.

you both made eye contact, unspeaking for a moment as he simply let his eyes run over your face. you could feel your cheeks heat without your will, breaking the silence immediately. “1 minute and a half left.”

he couldn’t help the little grin that formed and you couldn’t help but admire it. stupid.

“firstly, i need to apologise to you. i know it’s been years and years, but i’ve wanted..needed to tell you that.” he murmured, eyes never leaving your own. “i know i hurt you that day, but i need you to understand i was trying to protect you, i had reasons and i knew it was the only way you would listen to me. doesn’t make it fair and definitely doesn’t make it okay, but i couldn’t lose you any further than i had to y/n.”

your throat bobbed. “what reasons?” you whispered out, unsure of how to take his apology. in response, you watched as he looked away, jaw ticking as though he had no intention of answering you.

your eyebrows furrowed. you could feel a semblance of anger growing inside of your chest and clawing at your throat. “you don’t get to come here and give me an apology for something that broke me and then tell me oh i had my reasons. if you don’t plan on sharing them, you’ve wasted my time.” you spat out, standing up to walk away.

his hands reached out, taking a hold of your hips, fingers flexing gently against your body before ushering you to sit back down which you reluctantly did. both of you seemed slightly shaken from the physical contact.

there was a moment of silence, jungkook’s eyes closing tightly before opening again. he was clearly debating something, but as he made eye contact with you again, he knew he had to. “my grandfather.” he whispered.

“what about him?” you asked, carefully. the man had just died and no matter your opinion, he was family to jungkook and you were too empathetic to bring your own emotions into it.

“i’m glad he’s dead. makes me free. makes us all free.” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, remembering taehyung’s outburst from earlier.

“what do you mean?” you whispered back, confused.

his jaw ticked at the memory swirling in his head, hands shuffling. you noticed he began getting lost in his thoughts and they were increasingly making him uncomfortable, forcing him to shift. “he didn’t like you. thought you were a distraction to me, and therefore you got on his list of people to exterminate.” he simply replied. “he hated my dad for marrying my mum, made our lives a fucking hell every chance he got knowing he had power and then realised one day that all of this, this bastard fucking town could be mine instead of his.”

you were sure your face was showcasing a million emotions, your heart clenching deeply. you knew he was a horrid man, but to extend his abuse to his family was incomparable.

“you’d come over for dinner, and i swear my parents love you so much, y/n..” he sighed out, hands running through his hair. “mum would get excited over buying stuff to decorate the table with, she’s always wanted a girl but after me, she wasn’t comfortable with bringing another child into the hellhole that fucker was causing, knew he’d give her hell too.”

you gulped.

“little things you know? he’d get annoyed you were round, annoyed you were eating in a house he said he had a claim in. he didn’t even fucking live there, but logic didn’t matter. then..then he’d get violent, usually to my dad. my mum would hide away, take me with her but he’d always find us too, you know? couldn’t say anything cause he knows all these people, has connections, money buys everything.”

his hands were shaking a little harder, and for the first time in years, you found yourself reaching over, taking one in your hand whilst they rested in his lap, wide eyes meeting yours. you said nothing, simply allowing him to continue whilst you comforted him.

“he knew you made me happy, made fun of me for liking you so much. said he wouldn’t let me make the same mistake my dad did, marrying my mum.” he spat out, jaw ticking. “we were kids, y/n, and he couldn’t stand to see me happy, see me enjoy your presence, he wanted you gone. he’d do anything, and i knew he’d go as far as he could so..”

your throat bobbed.

“so i did what i did. i hated myself so much, y/n, but i convinced myself that this would save you, and it did. he’s left you alone for so long because he thought i didn’t care anymore.” he gulped, turning your hand over so he was now the one caressing it. “but he’s wrong. all i ever think about is you, my mind is plagued and all i can comprehend is y/n, y/n, y/n, y/n. i see you around town and i want to pull out my own hair, makes me so angry and i know it’s so selfish but i want you to myself, want to be in your arms again like when we used to under our tree in the park.” he all but whispered. “want to feel like you’re mine.”

he looked up at you, he could see the glassy dew forming in your eyes and the way your little lip trembled. his other hand shot out, thumb tracing your little lip. “knew i could never have you, not until he was dead. dreamt of him dying in so many different ways, violent and painful but even in death he gets lucky. peaceful.” he whispered, hand dropping and eyes closing. the familiar anger was back and you could see it. “he hurts us for years, and he gets to die in peace?”

his voice broke at the end of his sentence, a small and uncharacteristic whimper leaving his lips. you couldn’t think, tears streaming down your face, your hands gently twitching beside your body, desperate to reach out and comfort him but the passage of time had made you uncertain.

regardless, the intimacy of the situation charged you, sniffling as you hesitantly reached out to him. a single hand on his knee, unsure but you knew it was necessity. you remembered how much a single touch used to calm him. you knew that the pain he caused you was for something that caused him an immense amount more, that didn’t alleviate how much it hurt you but it did allow for a reason. that felt enough.

“i’m so sorry.” he whispered to you, his own hand taking yours from his knee and instead clasping it. “you don’t have to forgive me, but i promise you i’m going to be better. gonna prove it to you, hm? no one can hold me back, not anymore.”

you simply nodded through your sniffles.

after pulling away slowly, just enough so your fingers were touching. this felt oddly intimate in itself, even more so than before. “how could he do that to you? you were just a boy, you’re still just..it’s not fair, you shouldn’t apologise for doing what you felt was necessary, i’m just sorry it had to happen this way.”

you watched his eyes soften clearly at the mere mention of forgiveness, before closing and letting out a deep exhale. he reached for your hand again. “you meant the world to me then, but you have no idea what you are to me now. i’m going to relearn you, y/n, going to be a man you deserve, a man that won’t walk away but a man that’ll protect you. gonna do this properly.” he promised before pressing a sweet kiss to your knuckles, sealing his promise.

——

a month had passed since jungkook’s confession and at first it felt like your entire world had shifted.

in the first following days, you cried and cried and cried. you mourned the childhood that had been stolen from you knowingly by an older man. you mourned the life jungkook and his family should have lived. more specifically, you mourned what could have been. what should have been yours and his from the beginning.

the next two weeks were what you called the baby step period. jungkook had asked for your number and you’d share a few texts, as if testing the waters, both too afraid to push the other away. it wasn’t long until that helpless feeling of infatuation for the boy returned, which made your throat bob. you were scared to bare your heart to him, you had changed so much but you knew that he had too, these two new versions of what once was weee now what occupied the hollows of your brains.

now, last week and present, jungkook went out of his way to spend as much time with you as physically possible. he had shown up at your house one day, knocked on the door despite your parents being home, for no other reason than he missed your face.

you flushed red when he told you, but he couldn’t stop staring at you. you thought he was going to kiss you, and you weren’t above admitting the fact how excited you were at the prospect. alas, disappointment came when he simply kissed your knuckles and walked away.

the next day, again, but this time he lingered. the day after, he walked into the house. today, you let him up to your room.

he walked around, examining little trinkets and pictures of you, yejin and yoongi in curiosity. it made his heart pain to see you have lived a completely separate life to him, but to see you find family in others relieved him of guilt.

“wanna know something funny?” he asked, picking up a picture of the three of you in a photo booth.

“hm?”

“used to hate yoongi.” he muttered which made you gawk. “why? how could anyone hate yoongi?”

“thought he was your boyfriend.”

you couldn’t help but laugh out loud, especially when noticing the little grin forming on his lips. “seriously, i’d get so annoyed, knew i had no right but i hope you know i was preying for the downfall of your relationship.”

“petty boy, you snooze you lose.”

he smirked, putting it down before turning over to you, tongue in his cheek. “yeah, and i don’t plan to lose.”

you felt a breathless at that, breaking eye contact before taking a seat on your bed. he had come round to watch movies, and considering you were in your cute sanrio pyjamas, you were evidently very excited. jungkook, the man who never left his house in anything other than black, was now adorned in spiderman pyjama bottoms that you had bought him and a tight t-shirt that stretched over his chest and back in a way that made your mouth water.

you slid under the covers, pulling them up a little, watching as he slid into your bed beside you. it was comical to see such a big man in your smaller bed, and it was clear he was maybe struggling due to his size.

“you don’t fit.” you simply frowned at him, his body hanging uncomfortably on the side as he looked at you with a darkened expression.

he didn’t respond, simply moving your laptop to your side table before taking a hold of you and manoeuvring you so you were now on top of him. “there.” he mumbled, looking at your wide eyes and slightly agape mouth. “rest on me. this way, we both win.”

you were sure you had died and gone to heaven. you were half embarrassed half incredibly turned on, though you had enough sense to hide those feelings before they jumped to the surface. you simply watched him tuck you into his chest, before wrapping you both up in your duvet. “comfortable?” he asked.

“yeah.” you confirmed, voice quiet and evidently shy as your bodies pressed intimately together whilst a film began to play on you laptop beside you.

you got through the first half hour easily, or so you say. you couldn’t help but snuggle deeper into his chest which he clearly enjoyed from the way he had his hand rubbing over your head and hair, breathing in your scent. this was affecting him in a way that you couldn’t even begin to unravel. as the film progressed, a steamier scene began to play causing you to shift slightly against jungkook. in turn, you felt something poking your core slightly.

you froze, realising quickly what exactly you were feeling. jungkook however seemed unfazed, his fingers drawing lazy circles on your lower back, maybe lower than what was deemed appropriate. you couldn’t think, feeling him so close and intimate when you’d already been having bad thoughts that you were desperate to rid yourself of. he looked so good in this t-shirt though.

he watched you, secretly. he could see how red your cheeks were and how you were shuffling closer and closer into him, in a subconscious effort to feel him more firmly against you. he wanted to moan out at the thought alone, his pretty girl.

his hand on your back suddenly lowered further, hand over your ass as he positioned you shamelessly so both of your cores were now firmly pressed against each other. you couldn’t help the gasp, feeling him so clearly through his pyjama bottoms.

he looked down at you and you slowly peered up at him, the eye contact palpable. his free hand pushed your hair out of your face before his thumb began tracing your lip. the tension was getting higher and higher.

“pretty.” he mumbled, his thumb prodding your bottom lip. it found its way past your lips, only slightly, touching your tongue whilst staring at you darkly.

you knew your cheeks must have been pink and burning, but you couldn’t stop your core from clenching at his actions, they were so dirty and yet he was acting like they weren't. his face was inching closer to yours as he traced your tongue with his thumb, teasing you with hooded eyes and parted lips.

he slowly pulled his thumb out, tracing your bottom lip. suddenly, the loud bang of the downstairs door ensued, indicating your parents leaving the house without any warning, causing you to jump slightly in his arms whilst clutching his chest.

this made you both moan out in shock as you pushed down, your cores unconsciously grinding against each other just right to cause a pang of pleasure in your stomachs. you peered up at him through your lashes to find his eyes shut closed tightly with a tense jaw. upon opening them and finding you looking up so sweetly. fuck it.

jungkook swooped down, one hand moving to your jaw as he pressed his lips to yours, unable to wait for you to keep up, moving his lips against yours like a man starved. despite the initial shock, it didn’t take long for you to match his movements, little noises and moans leaving you as he ground his hips back into you, grunting.

the kiss was pure sin, filthy from every inch as you both erupted. this was years of tension, of unspoken apologies and stolen glances - this was the boy that had broken your heart with every intention of patching it up. you, the very object of his desires and the owner of his soul, having you in his arms was one thing but feeling you so intimately made his brain flip.

he slid his tongue into your mouth, leaving you mewling as he took time to explore you, hands trailing to your hips and grinding roughly over him. he was wasting no time, he’d yearned for a taste of you for what felt like eons and here you were, twitching and begging for more underneath him.

he flipped you over suddenly. lips began moving down your neck, pulling at your legs so they were wrapped around his waist whilst he left traces of himself all over your skin. the thought of purple skin all over your neck, a clear indicator that he had been there was enough to make him groan.

“jungkook..” you moaned out, hips lifting desperate to feel attention.

his fingers moved over your stomach, lightly dusting over your skin as he pulled your top up slightly before his fingers grazed the waistband of your shorts. he wasted no time, eyes searching yours for content, his fingers moving further upon your little nod.

the first feel of him against you was enough to make your brain short circuit, but the casual way he began rubbing circles against your clit immediately, slow but assured, drove you to let out a loud whimper.

your eyes connected, foreheads pressed against each other as he drew deliberately slow circles against your core whilst your hips rose and fell, moans filling the room and breaths mingling. every time you’d close your eyes, he’d nudge your nose, forcing you to look at him again. no matter how you felt, what you thought and what you wanted - he needed it longer. you were everything plus one, he couldn’t get you out of his mind, like a grape vine tangling in every ridge and panel.

“jungkook.” you whimpered out, already growing close. he could see the way your breaths were quickening and your hands tightening against his hair. he pulled away without a word, breath heavier than your own before hovering over you again. he grabbed your bottoms and pulled down until you were completely bare before diving in without a second thought.

he let out a loud groan at the taste of you, lips and tongue moving rapidly, a clear contrast from his touch earlier. nothing was slow about this, it was rushed and desperate - a show of his feelings clear as day. “can’t get enough of you, baby, want you all the fucking time.” he all but growled against you, tongue penetrating you before suckling on your clit.

his fingers found his way at your entrance, pushing in two as he began to pump whilst his mouth moved in tandem, groaning and grunting against you while your own moans filled the air.

you couldn’t believe this. the boy you had secretly loved, and then openly hated for so long, now head between your thighs with his mouth sucking and his fingers thrusting - you couldn’t think, could barely comprehend. the sight of him grinding into your bed to relieve himself only made you moan louder, your chest constricting.

“gonna cum for me, y/n? gonna cum on my fingers for me?” he cooed at you, a juxtaposition to the rapid movements he was indulging you in

it was only moments later you found your hips lifting, back arching and eyes closing. your breath hitched as your body began to shake, jungkook continuing his relentless pace as your high washed over you, prolonging it as much as he could.

after what felt like an eternity of bliss, you opened your eyes to see jungkook sat hovering over you, staring at your face with an expression that felt unreadable. your chest was still heaving, your fingers twitching towards him.

“my girl.” he murmured down at you, thumb moving over your lips. your heart constricted at his words. his? definitely his.

“want you.” you simply murmured out in response, pulling him over you again.

he groaned at how needy you were being, capturing your lips in a series of kisses. “yeah? want me baby?”

you couldn’t even begin to respond, watching as he too lowered his bottoms until he was bare, sliding his t-shirt off too. your hands ran over his hardened chest and abs, noticing faint scars running all over him. you selfishly couldn’t bring yourself to ask about them, but you knew why they were there or rather who had done it. one of his hands gently took a hold of yours, stopping the tracing and in turn stopping the racing of your thoughts.

he tilted your head so your eyes connected with his, watching him as he openly stared at you again. he had a habit of doing that. weeks since you had reconciled and you would catch him staring so openly, with no shame; he wanted to sear every inch of you inside his brain.

he looked away momentarily, grabbing his cock and slowly running it up and down your core. you began mewling, half from sensitivity and the other in anticipation - you’d never had anyone as big as him and the thought made your heart flutter.

slowly, he began pushing in, eyes connecting with yours once more as he leaned over you, arms caging your head in until he was fully inside of you. you were breathing heavy again, hands pathetically pawing as his chest as you fell into his trance. “so big, kookie.”

jungkook faltered at that, the nickname driving him insane, eyes closing for a moment. after a minute, you nodded up at him, legs spreading wider as you gave him the green light to start moving.

this was all he needed. he began to thrust, deep and slow, both of you moaning out loudly. he couldn’t help it, his pace almost instantly growing rougher at the mere feel of you - skin slapping on skin and breaths mingling. you felt divine.

“you have no idea how long i’ve wanted this.” he grunted over you, his bruising pace making you mewl out, gripping his large biceps desperately. “made me go insane all these years, in your cute little outfits, hm? knew i’d make you mine one day, wouldn’t rest until you wanted me like i wanted you.” he growled.

your eyes rolled to the back of your head. having someone tell you so openly how deeply they desired you was enough to make you grow wetter by the minute, but knowing it was jungkook? your jungkook? it was enough to make you never ever want to let him go again.

“wanted you too, kook.” you whimpered in admission. “t-tried to hate you but couldn’t stop..couldn’t stop thinking about you.” you moaned loudly once he began thrusting deeper in response to your words. “yeah, baby?” he cooed, fingers clutching the sides of your hips, forcing you to take every inch.

you nodded, arms now wrapping around his neck. “just looked so good, wanted you so badly.”

his forehead fell against yours, pressing your lips in a hot and dirty kiss. it was pure filth, the way he was pounding into you whilst draping his tongue over yours, claiming you in ways no man could ever dream of doing. “you’re my girl, y/n. always have been, yeah? my fucking girl, gonna give you the world if you let me, won’t let you ever be sad again.” he growled, grunting promises. “never gonna let you go. gonna buy you a house, put a ring on your fucking finger and make you my wife forever.”

despite growing closer over the past month, you hadn’t really talked about what you were doing. you were both quite touchy, with jungkook not shying away from grabbing your waist or putting his head in the crook of your neck regardless of who he was around. it caused for many situations where you found yourself shying away from others’ questions because you simply didn’t know the answer. hearing him openly say he wanted you, in such a primal way was enough to begin the climb in your stomach.

“forever?” you whimpered out loud. “promise?”

“fuck.” jungkook groaned, practically picking up your body from the bed as he fucked into you, rough and hard. “i’m never letting you go again, baby, my sweet girl. look at you, you were made for me.”

the combination of his words, his thrusts, and the way he had your entire body caged in his much larger arms were enough to make your brain go blank. you found the coil in your stomach tightening before you could even think, your breath hitching as your orgasm washed over you.

your body twitched and shook as his pace grew rougher, moaning loudly at the feel of how tight you had gotten. he wasn’t far behind, pumping into you sloppily a few more times before he came himself, holding you tight to him as he rode out your highs.

a few moments of silence ensued. he looked down at you. your eyes were closed, chest heaving and hands shaking. you were holding onto him so adorably he swore he could have screamed.

he gently placed you back down onto the bed, hovering over you still. slowly, pulling out, he watched as his cum dripped from your core in a way that has him hardening again. “god, you’re so pretty.” he murmured, fingers gently pushing it back in despite your squirms.

he grinned down at you, before joining you and pulling you to his chest. hand running over your back as your eyes opened up, hesitantly staring up at him only to find him already looking at you, as per usual.

“i meant it, y/n..” he murmured gently, other hand tracing your face and swollen lips. “i’m going to give you it all, okay? gonna give you a ring, house, baby - whatever you fucking want. gonna spend the rest of my life servicing your every need.”

your breath hitched, core tightening. the feel of his cum oozing out of you suddenly felt so much deeper, and you knew you wanted this feeling for the rest of your life. “promise, kookie? want all of that with you.” you pouted.

he grinned. “no one can hold me back, baby. i’m here now, and i’m gonna give you the live you deserve okay? if you wanna leave this shitty place, just say the word, i’ll follow.”

———

yoongi stared at the view in front of him, half in annoyance and other in silent content.

you were all at hobi’s house, who had invited his friends alongside yourself and the twins for a night to just relax - alcohol in everyone’s hands as everyone lightly chatted in the living room, everyone sprawled around. there clearly wasn’t enough room for everyone so you all had gotten creative. for instance, you were sat on jungkook’s lap, nibbling away at a sandwich jin had made.

“you know, two months ago she hated you.” yoongi teased jungkook, whilst eating his own snacks. “so this is very interesting.”

the tatted boy couldn’t help his smirk. his jealousy had brought him to hate yoongi for a while, but now knowing his relation to you; he brought himself out of his spell. even liked him, surprisingly enough.

“can’t blame her, can you?” jungkook murmured back, fingers playing with the ends of your hair whilst you chatted over at yejin.

yoongi took a sip of his alcohol with a grimace. “yeah but it was all a lie. you know that, right?”

he looked up at the older boy, eyebrows furrowing.

“she’s always loved you. always will.” yoongi murmured. “so don’t fuck it up. you’d be surprised at what me and yejin are capable of.”

jungkook knew the two were mysterious, no one really knew where they had come from or why they’d entered such a secluded and secretive town, but in that moment it all seemed to become a little clear. “i wouldn’t dream of it.” jungkook confirmed, arm tightening around your waist with a kiss to your back.

“oh i know.” yoongi grinned. “we wouldn’t let you.” he finished, with a wink.

[littleprincessbug4]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚LittlePrincessBug diaries˚୨୧⋆｡˚⋆

Daddy keeps me padded pretty much all the time, but sometimes when we're really busy, it's normal for me to pull my diaper down and pee in the potty. This was the routine we've fallen into lately- but Daddy made it clear that I am to start using my diapers 24/7 again, unless explicitly given permission otherwise- and I'm not allowed to ask to use the potty 🙈 It makes me so blushy when he takes away potty privileges!!

The next day, I was wearing a short black dress and Tranquility diaper, and we had a hobby meetup to attend that evening. I tinkled a tiny bit in my diaper in the parking lot beforehand, but it was still mostly dry. I was being lazy and I thought it would be totally fine not to change, and just to keep wearing it through the meeting... big mistake!!! For some reason we were standing most of the night instead of sitting?? I kept trying to discreetly pull my diaper up, but I felt it keep sagging. I already adjusted the tapes once in the bathroom to make it tighter, but it wasn't enough... I'm pretty sure my soggy diaper was peeking out below the back of my dress by the end of the night 😰 i was so embarrassed, I threw it in the trash in the bathroom, and was bare bottomed for the entire drive home!! My face is red just thinking about it. I will definitely have to be more careful next time!! 😵‍💫 ugh

[voguesriot]

NOT A LOT / JUST FOREVER ✹ sebastian sallow

( summary ) when harry potter said he wanted a reason to skip potions, he didn’t expect to wind up developing a kinship with a portrait of a young witch by the kitchens, but how can he complain when her smile is just as welcoming as her stories?

( pairing ) sebastian sallow x female!reader (mc), platonic!harry potter x female!reader, small mention of ominis gaunt x anne sallow

( notes/warnings ) set during the philosophers stone and the end of the deathly hallows. this was supposed to be a mostly seb/minorly harry fic but it kind of inverted because i love harry potter and want to wrap him in a warm blanket and keep him safe forever. also!!! this is the first proper fic i’ve written in over a year so pls be kind 🤍. angst but mostly fluff! reader assuming a motherly role with harry! low-key sebastian assuming a fatherly role with harry too! canon-compliant violence mentions! minimal usage of y/n! not proofread!

Harry Potter had known torment like no other. Stood little over 5 foot tall, he had felt blistering rage poured from callous hands and the bitter loneliness nipping at his guts. But none of it, not the broom cupboard, not the scar, would be worse that enduring another double potions class.

And so, the boy who lived took a left turn down a spiral staircase instead of carrying on to the dungeons and followed the candlelit corridors until he found himself facing a dead-end. It was, he thought, maybe the most peaceful part of the castle he’d seen in his two months of admittance. There was no cobwebbed ceiling corners, no scathing suits of armour, no ghastly ghosts taunting his every breath. The walls were barren except for a lone portrait frame displayed on the far wall. Harry walked closer.

It was an empty frame, holding only a background of red curtains and a plush sofa. He wondered who that frame was meant to home and worried his footsteps had frightened them off. He turned to walk away, to find a shadowy area by one of the far courtyards where he could waste the rest of his two hours. But just as he did so, back already to the wall, he heard a gentle voice.

“Are you lost, sweetheart?”

Harry’s head whipped to the frame once more with such speed he wouldn’t be shocked to feel a sharp pain in the morning. Sat on the sofa was now a witch who looked to be older than him, if only by a few years. She wore a white collared shirt with a red tie and a long grey skirt beneath dark brown overcoat. There was a scar on her left cheek that Harry believed he’d find intimidating on anyone else, but something in the way she smiled at him, the softness of her eyes, told him he’d struggle to find an off-putting thing about her.

He hadn’t even realised he’d been staring, lips parted, question ignored, until she let out a small laugh. Harry Potter had been laughed at before, he’d been laughed at before he’d even been born, he knew what it meant for two people to share a look and a giggle when you speak — or, more aptly, don’t speak. But the insult he was accustomed to never came. He felt no wave of shame, no cheeks reddened with embarrassment. In a strange act of fate, he found himself laughing with her.

“I’m Y/n Sallow. Pleased to make your acquaintance…” She paused and nodded for him to introduce himself.

“Harry. Harry Potter.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “I’ve heard many things about you. It’s good to put a face to the name. So, Harry, my question still remains; are you lost?”

“I have double potions.”

She laughed again and so did he. “I see. You know, I remember your professor when he was about your age. Terribly frightened boy, but wildly genius.”

“He hates me for something that isn’t my fault.”

“People tend to channel anger when their other feelings are too confusing. It’s easier for them. But I know how you feel, love. Believe me.”

“Nobody knows how I feel.” Harry didn’t like how self-effacing he sounded, but to him it was mere truth. Nobody else had lost in the same ways he had and been forced to live with its guilt, nobody else was thrust into the war of a world they didn’t understand.

“You only say that because you haven’t taken History of Magic yet.”

Harry looked at her quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“Get comfortable.” The boy took off his robe and folded in the floor, sitting atop it and crossing his legs, elbows resting on his knees.

For the next three hours, Harry paid no need to the fact he had missed a charms lesson, as he found himself immersed in the stories she told. Of long-dormant repositories of ancient magic, of goblins, and poachers, and graphorns, and plight, the scale of what he faced seemed not dwarfed, but levelled by that of her own.

She told him of the fears she felt as she entered the Great Hall, how lonely she was on her first day, and Harry felt his heart swell at the fortune of meeting Ron as early as he did. When he said this, she smiled and said Ron reminded her of an old friend, a former Hufflepuff and renowned magiczoologist.

“She said she didn’t have many friends before I arrived, which caught me by such surprise, because I believed her to be one of the kindest witches I had ever met. One of the bravest too. In fact, she led me on one of the most remarkable adventures of my life…” She said, a melancholic smile on her face as she talked of Golden Snidgets and centaurs.

As their second hour drew to a close, she brought her storytelling to a sudden halt. “Enough of me. Darling, how has Hogwarts been for you?”

Harry paused, having barely reflected on the question himself. “It’s been good.” A moment of silence. “I think.”

“You think?”

“It’s just…” His breath caught in his throat, as millions of thoughts came to mind but to words followed suit. “I just feel so out of place. I found out about magic two months ago, and suddenly everyone has these big expectations of me because of what happened when I was a baby.” She nodded in understanding and felt her heart break in her chest.

When you looked at him, you saw him not as a prodigal son or a budding star, but as the child he was. His glasses slightly crooked, almost hanging off his nose, his cheeks red and rosy, his eyes downcast. He looked a mirror of you, and you hated it with a ferocity you hadn’t felt in years.

It was supposed to end with you, the torment of children, the horror of destiny. You still remembered the terror you felt when you first touched that portkey, when Fig told you more of those iron-clad knights would follow, when the fate of a world you knew naught about was thrust upon your fifteen-year-old shoulders.

When Ranrok was defeated and you were told you’d be safe, you were lied to. The poachers still came in droves, angrier, smarter, fit to kill with the taste of your blood in their mouths. More loyalists subscribed to Ranrok’s ideals and strived off the image of your head mounted on a wall. There was always new monsters to fight, new people in need, new reasons to run away and forge a new life.

But you never did, you never took the bait. You knew that if you left, if you abandoned your responsibilities that eventually they would fall onto another you. Another child born with your gift, and they too would know true loneliness and fear and you could not let that happen.

You graduated and became a freelance cursebreaker. If people felt unsafe, you were the first port of call. You risked your life with the sole mission of preventing another child from filling your shoes. You did all this, and it meant nothing. It meant nothing because now, over a century later, a young boy is being punished for actions he didn’t commit, tormented for events out of his control.

Harry Potter was cut from the same cloth as you, and so, you listened.

The bell tower tolled and sent a shock down Harry’s spine. Was it lunchtime already? He stood up and dusted off his cloak. “Do you ever get lonely?” He asked. “All the other portraits have others around them.”

“I rarely dwell in this frame, to be honest. I have a few others around, there’s one by the Magical Theory classroom on the fourth floor of the Astronomy wing. That’s where I spend most of my time, but I’ve got two in Hogsmeade, another in a run-down hamlet southwest of here, even have one in America.” You gave him a sweet smile. “The portrait of the old potions professor, Aesop Sharp, sends word for me whenever he sees someone come down this hall. Say hello to him when you pass, will you?”

He nodded his head, halfway down the corridor before he turned around and hoped you hadn’t gone yet. “Thank you for this. Is it—” he paused again and took a deep breath, “is it alright if I come here again? If I can talk to you again?”

His heart pounded in his throat, caught with a fear of you saying no. Of laughing at him for finding such comfort in a mere conversation. Harry Potter had long since accepted that he’d never truly know the feeling of being cared for, being heard. He had made his peace with such a thing. He was a child now, but he’d grow. He’d grow in his own and he’d grow to be a kind man who cared for others with kindness never afforded for him. He was okay with this, but now that he’d met you, he knew he couldn’t live that way anymore.

He’d never had enough material things to be selfish over, but he’d be selfish now if he needed to. He needed this again, this feeling of being truly seen and understood.

Ever since he came to the wizarding world, Harry had been told he had his mother’s eyes, her kindness and warmth. Looking at you now, he figured you were the closest to her he’d find. In the softness of your gaze, he shed the weight of his worries.

You smiled again and nodded. “Tell dear Aesop to send word whenever you need me, darling.”

His feet felt lighter as they travelled up the steps, eagerly searching for a portrait he hadn’t noticed before until he was outside the potions classroom and read the golden plaque. Aesop Sharp.

The man had a gruff face with rugged stubble and scars on his chin. His lips quirked up with a thin veil of remembrance. “I take it she arrived on time?”

“She said to say ‘hi’. And thank you.”

“She thanked me?”

“I’m thanking you.” Aesop only hummed and nodded.

“There’s nothing to thank me for, boy. Other than the fact that your potions professor will be kept uninformed of your detour.” Harry’s cheeks flushed a deep red and Aesop let out what could almost be considered a laugh. “It’s best you run along now. The rest—the first—of your classes will drag on an empty stomach.”

“I was wondering when you’d return.” Sebastian teased from the frame. “Almost four whole hours on my own with only Weasley for company.”

As you joined Sebastian in the portrait, settling comfortably on the sofa he’d been sprawled across, his arm found a comfortable place around your shoulders, holding you close.

Garreth, whose portrait was on the corner wall to the left of yours by his request, let out a hearty laugh at that. “You say that as though you weren’t the one recount all the old days, Sallow. No need to try impress the lady, you fooled her years ago.”

“Don’t be rude, Garreth. It’s sweet he cares so much after all these years.” Poppy chided from her frame beside his, appearing just as Natty did across from her.

“Where’s Ominis?” You asked, expecting a quip from your dear friend.

“He went to visit Feldcroft. Said he missed the place and wanted to see how ol’ Victoria is holding up.” You smiled as Sebastian mentioned Ominis and Anne’s great-great granddaughter.

“It’s is sweet that they stay in such close touch.” You smiled. “We must visit again soon. Adam is still in London, I think. His daughter is starting Hogwarts next year. Same with Sarah’s son.” Your heart swelled at the thought of the family of your own.

“It’ll be nice not to be the only one here with family visits in the castle.” Garreth said.

“My boy will be nothing like your Percy.” Sebastian defended.

“If he’s anything like you, he’ll be exactly like the twins, though.”

“I heard Imelda gave them an earful last week after they almost blew up her frame by the Trophy Room.” Natty laughed. “They’re definitely Weasley’s.”

“There’ll be more of them than there is Ravenclaw’s with the way things are going.” Poppy commented. “A young boy this year, and a girl next?”

“What can I say, we’re family people! I heard Ron’s befriended the Potter boy.” At this, your ears perked up.

“Harry?”

“Uh-oh.” Sebastian taunted, toying with a stand of your hair. “Something tells me you’ve taken someone under your wing again.”

You pinched his side as the others chuckled joked between themselves. “You say that as though it’s a bad thing. I thought you liked when I cared for people.”

“I do.” He smiled, putting his hand on the back of your head and pulling you close to press a kiss to your temple. “Just find it a bit funny is all.”

“I want all of you to keep an eye on him. I was talking him today and I could feel this— this— this loneliness hanging around him. He was talking to me and it felt like I was talking to myself at fifteen.”

A silence washed over the portraits. They’d seen you through it all. They saw you when Lodgok passed, when Fig passed, when everything worked against you and there was nothing they could do to help. Sebastian’s grip on you tightened, guilt stirring in the pits of his stomach.

It had been almost two centuries since everything with Anne’s curse had come to pass. He’d apologised countless times, kneeling before you with his head hung his shame and your hands held tightly in his, tears staining your skirts. You’d forgiven him just as many. You cradled his face and kissed his cheeks and told him that what happened then mattered no more than what you had for dinner the night prior. He was still your love, and you were the lone focus of his devotion, that was what mattered.

But time does not heal all wounds, and there would always be a part of you that remembered how he had to mean Crucio and how he didn’t write to you at all that summer, just as there would always be a part of him that yearned to go back and beat sense into the younger version of him who saw you as only a means of rescuing Anne.

They all knew how important the safety of the boy would grow to be to you, and made a silent pact to follow through with whatever you asked.

“I still remember when James and Lily were in first year.” Lamented Poppy. “She knew how to put a boy in his place. Could’ve learned a lot from her in our years.”

“She was so lovely, too. I always knew she’d become Head Girl. She reminded me of Amit. Always so smart but just as kind.” Natty sighed. “How’s Amit doing anyways, Y/n? You were the last to visit the library.”

“He’s well. Apparently a seventh year recognised him from his books the other day, he’s just as bashful as ever. Got red even recounting the story.” You grinned fondly.

“I remember how jealous Sebastian was on your first Astronomy lesson when Professor Shah volunteered Amit to share a telescope with you instead of him.” Garreth laughed, a deep laugh that came from the back of his throat.

“I was not jealous!”

“You were.” It seemed Ominis had a penchant for arriving just when Sebastian needed to be put in his place. “I couldn’t see it but I could sense it. You weren’t exactly subtle.”

“I couldn’t tell, if that makes you feel better.” You attempted to console.

“He professed his love to you for a year and you couldn’t tell. That’s no consolation.” It seemed he had a penchant for catching you out as well.

“Easy, Gaunt.” Sebastian warned. “Let’s not forget five years of pining for Anne. Makes our thing look like a breeze.”

Your friend halted and shook his head, a breathy laugh escaping him. “You have me there, Sebastian.”

“How’s Vic?”

“She’s good. Really good. Asking after the lot of you, Poppy especially.” The former magiczoologist furrowed her brows. “Said your research papers on mooncalves have been an invaluable asset to her work on rescuing and rehoming them.”

“I always knew she’d do brilliant things.” Poppy beamed. “It was a guarantee given who her family is.”

You settled further into Sebastian’s embrace as the conversation rolled on, head on his shoulder and relishing in his warmth. This was the kind of peace you so desperately longed for in your girlhood, this was the home you fought so hard to protect, safe in the arms of your love and the company of your family.

You could only pray Harry found the same someday.

It became routine for the boy to visit your portrait over the months that passed, so much so that Aesop no longer needed to send for you when Harry passed because you’d be there already, waiting.

You felt a kinship with him that you could only compare to the bond you had felt with your own children all those years ago. You loved your great-grandchildren dearly, but they had inherited your wanderlust and seemed nearly impossible to get a hold of, a feat made even more difficult given your inability to do… anything, really. But Harry was here, in need of guidance, a service you were more than willing to give.

When you heard he won quidditch matches, you’d leap from your sofa and nearly wept with pride, just as you did with every assignment result he relayed to you. Harry seemed to preen to your praise.

You quickly became his confidant. He told you of his years with the Dursleys, his troll encounter at Halloween (where you had laughed at another similarity between the pair of you), his fears of Voldemort, and, eventually, his plans to find the Philosopher’s Stone.

“You must promise me you’ll be careful, Harry.” You warned. “It’s no small feat you’re about to undertake, do not underestimate it by any means. Without a doubt, you’ll be trialled before you find the stone, you have to keep a clear head. Do not let yourself get distracted, if only for a moment.”

There was a taught crease between your brows and your shoulders were tensed with worry. The boy seemed almost apologetic as he nodded. “I swear it. Ron and Hermione will help me too. I won’t be alone.”

You remembered how happy he was when he spoke of his friends, so similar to how you did. He seemed to glow with the joy of being accepted not despite being know, but because of it instead. “You keep an eye out for them as well. I don’t want to hear any stories of a first year sent to the Hospital Wing.”

An authoritative edge laced your voice that set Harry’s spine straight, heart clenching at the protectiveness you showed over him and those he held close.

“Harry,” your words were gentler now, softer, “you’re a brilliant wizard, destined to do great things, but you do not have to do them now. Not if you’re not ready.”

“I am ready. I have to do this. If I don’t, who else will?”

In a humbling moment, you realised there was nothing you could say to the boy that wouldn’t be wholly hypocritical. “Just—” you sighed, “promise me that you’ll come visit when you’re done, let me know you’re safe, tell me of your adventure.”

“I promise.” He smiled.

Later that evening, when curfew had long been set, you found yourself visiting the Trophy Room for the first time in many months. You smiled at Imelda as you passed through the portrait across from her.

“Hello, old friend.” You grinned warmly, stepping into the portrait of Eleazer Fig, tucked away behind the Goblet of Fire.

The man seemed to melt in your presence, a bright smile taking over his face as he pulled you into a tight embrace.

“It’s been far too long, sweet girl.” He said in your ear, still holding you close.

“I fear an apology is in order.” You said almost feebly.

“What ever for?”

“I believe I now know the torment you felt in our year together.” A laugh escaped you. “I’ve developed a friendship with the young Potter boy.”

Fig nodded his head in understanding. “You worry for the child?”

“With every dawn. To know he’s in such danger and I am unable to help— it’s a cruel torture.”

“I know.” His hands found your own. “No child should have to face what he will — what you did. But if you stand by him whenever he calls, know that is the help he needs. The support of someone who has seen what he has and come out to lead a better life will give him the hope he needs to persevere.”

You hadn’t realised there were even tears in your eyes until they dropped onto your cheeks. It was one of Fig’s many talents to draw the rawest, most powerful emotions from within you.

Over the years, you’d gone to him when the slightest problems left you upset. You’d run to his portrait whenever you didn’t want to sit through History of Magic and sit on the floor and tell him everything there was to tell, from your breakfast that day to the deepest fears in year heart.

“Believe me, child. If he is in any way like you, he will shock you with abilities. I know you shocked me.” He moved to cradle your face softly, resting his forehead against your own.

“I feel so helpless. None of what he stands before is fair. He’s only a boy.” He knew the truth of your words, for they’d been said to him before Harry Potter had even been born. I am so helpless. None of this is fair. I’m only a girl.

“All you can do for him is let him know that you will always be there, never to judge, only to support. The boy needs comfort and normalcy, so that is what you must remain.”

“You’ve always known just what to say.” You smiled at him, face wrought with melancholia.

“It has always been easy to speak with you, friend. You were the closest I’d ever gotten to a child of my own.” His own eyes shone now. “Miriam truly would’ve adored you. The pair of you would’ve driven me mad.”

You let out a watery laugh and pulled him into another tight embrace, your chin tucked over his shoulder, anchoring you to him as you stayed that way for an indiscernible about of time before making your way down to your lone portrait to anxiously wait for Harry’s arrival.

The end of the school year drew close faster than any of the others had, you were sure of it, and soon Harry was sat before you, still shaking with the excitement of winning Gryffindor the House Cup, telling you of how happy the last year had made him.

“I’ll miss you, though.” He frowned. “Don’t suppose you have any portraits near Surrey?”

“I’m afraid not, sweet one. But I’ll be here when you return, eagerly awaiting your stories of summer. Maybe I’ll have some new ones myself too.”

A comfortable silence passed through you both, Harry pulling at him fingers and you looking down at him warmly. “I’m so proud of you, Harry.” He looked up at you quickly, a flicker of shock on his face.

“You’re so brave, so strong, so kind. You’ve dealt with more danger this past year than most wizards do in their lifetime, and you’re still here to tell the tale, still smiling while you do it. It’s a remarkable thing. I hope you know that.”

A tear caught the light trickling in from the corridor’s high windows as it dropped from his eyes, irises swimming with gratitude and remnants of pain he was not yet willing to divulge. He thanked you once more with an earnest sincerity that was so rare to see, and then left to pack his things, swearing to visit you again on September 1st.

As Harry sat staring out his window in The Leaky Cauldron at the dull night sky, knees pulled to his chest and hands clasped tightly together, he wondered how it was possible for him to feel more alone than ever, exiled from the house he grew up in, waiting anxiously for his thirteenth birthday to come.

He wanted to be back in Hogwarts. People cared for him in Hogwarts. You cared for him in Hogwarts. Here the bed creaked and the pipes clanged and the wind whistled as it came through the windows and his loneliness made him feel sick. So Harry did what he always did when he needed a distraction, he went for a walk.

The floorboards groaned beneath his weight, a small sound seeming so mammoth when laid before a silent hallway. If he listened hard enough, Harry could hear the quiet drone of conversation and drunken laughter from lingering patrons downstairs, but he carried on his path away until it was just him and his steady breaths.

“Are you lost?” A portrait asked making the boy jump from his skin. A masculine voice, deep and authoritative but complete with a soothing edge Harry likened vaguely to Arthur Weasley or Dumbledore.

Harry turned to face his frame. It was a simple model, nothing fancy enough to seem out of place in its dwelling, but polished enough to know it was revered. The man was beautiful, Harry thought. With freckled cheeks, big brown eyes, and a slightly flattened nose. He smiled at Harry’s hesitation, a small, kind thing, as though he were welcoming an old friend or coaxing a fawn from hiding.

Sebastian Sallow. Auror. 1875-1938. The golden plaque beneath him read. The last name made Harry’s breath hitch. Sallow.

You’d told him stories of your lover many times, of how you found each other just as you needed it most, how you stayed by him when no others would and how he returned the debt in kind. Harry had almost been able to fall in love with the man through your words alone.

“You’re Y/n’s husband.” He blurted without thinking, and Sebastian’s small smile grew to split his face, a deep laugh rumbling from his chest.

“It is one of my grander accomplishments.” A confident content that could almost be confused for smugness settled on his face. “And you’re Harry Potter. I’ve heard many things about you. Seems you’ve managed to quite entrance my wife.”

A dark red flooded Harry’s cheeks. “She’s very kind.”

“She is indeed. Though, she’d kill me if I didn’t ask what brings you here.”

Harry paused. “I couldn’t stay home any longer.”

Sebastian clicked his tongue, humming in acknowledgment. “I understand. Are you alright?”

It was a simple question, one he normally would’ve brushed off without second thought, but Sebastian seemed to share your ability of coaxing out Harry’s deepest truth. “I don’t know.”

A tense beat passed between them, neither knowing exactly what to say, both knowing you would if you were there, until Sebastian eventually broke the silence. “I remember when I felt like that.” Harry looked at him inquisitively.

“Christmas in our fifth year, I had… a falling out with my uncle and sister. The thought of going back home made me feel ill, so I didn’t. For the first time, I spent the holiday in the castle, just as she did.”

December 22nd, 1890.

A grey cloud seemed eternally settled above Sebastian’s head and the sight of your friend’s unspoken torment made your skin crawl. Ominis had just departed for Gaunt Manor, making hushed comment on the fact he’d likely be back within a week. You wished he hadn’t left at all.

Your worry for Sebastian had been gnawing away at you ever since the events surrounding Salazar’s Sciptorium. You feared for the path he threatened to follow, the darkness settling into the far corners of his mind. His nose was always stuck in the damned book you found in that room, reading, searching, and scouring for anything that would help Anne.

A small part of you knew he would give his own life to absolve her of that pain, a larger part feared he would give yours too.

“Have you eaten?” You asked him, taking a gentle approach with deliberate steps towards his hunched-over frame, careful not to startle him.

“Hm?” He hummed in half-acknowledgment.

“I said, ‘Have you eaten?’” There was a smile evident in your voice as you pulled out the chair beside him.

“Oh— Uhm, not yet.” He brushed off your concern. You thought Sebastian was clever, but if he truly was, he would’ve known you wouldn’t let up that easily.

You sighed, standing up again and patting his shoulders. “Up.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Up. You’ve been sat here every day this past week from dawn till dusk and I will not let it carry on any longer.” He hung his lead low and shook it slightly and you could tell he was fighting a smile. “If you won’t move for the sake of yourself, do it for the sake of chivalry. I intend to go to Hogsmeade and don’t wish to go alone. For safety.”

“You and I both know you’d best any opponents that cross us before I could even ready my wand.” He laughed, but he was slowly gathering his things and tucking them beneath his arm.

“Not if my opponent is loneliness. Come on, Sebastian. Entertain me.” You didn’t even attempt to hide your smugness as he stood by your side, holding his arm out for you to take. “How charming.” You commented, your hand resting on his elbow as he guided you from Hogwarts.

After spending almost every day of the past three months in your company, Sebastian had come to think nothing of mindless affection.

He noticed it first in your interactions with Natsai. How you pulled her into a tight embrace after she won a round of Crossed Wands, only letting go when it was your turn to duel.

Then it was with Poppy. How the pair of you always seemed to sit or stand close enough to each other to touch in some way. How she’d place her head on your shoulder and you’d rest yours on top of hers.

Even with Anne, who you had only just met, you placed your hands on her shoulders ever-so-softly as she told you of her strife. It seemed to natural for you to touch those you cared for.

He realised you were more hesitant to show affection to your male classmates. You’d hold Garreth’s arm as you laughed at a joke, but always retracted after a few seconds. But the Scriptorium changed everything.

In the moment, he supposed it was mere adrenaline, that the way you tightly squeezed Ominis after his parseltounge display was a mere product of high tensions. But when he cast Crucio, he saw Ominis react in a way he never had before. Ominis grabbed you and held you close as you cried and thrashed in his arms, hands shaking as he fought every urge in him to leave you alone and fend off him own haunting memories.

After that, you and Ominis became more freely affectionate than ever, sparking more than a few courtship rumours that made Sebastian’s heart race more than they should have. The blond boy would let you lead him through crowded areas where his wand might have failed him. You’d let him lean against you in History of Magic.

Your closeness with Sebastian was forged from a moment of weakness on his end.

A week prior to the Christmas break, the day Sebastian decided not to return to Feldcroft, you’d caught him sat on a bench by the greenhouses, watching the wildflowers billow in the moonlight. His hands were clasped before him, his knee kept bouncing, and his brows were furrowed into a deep line.

You approached him just as you had in the library, with a soft tenderness, inviting him to the Room of Requirement for some space to clear his mind.

He took his anger out of conjured training dummies and yelled so loud you had to move your diricawls to a different vivarium so they wouldn’t get scared until, eventually, he collapsed onto one of the sofas you had set up in the middle of the room. The last thing he remembered of that night was your fingers combing through his hair. And then he woke up, his head resting in your lap, your hands still in his tresses. He sat up quickly, instantly aware of how compromising such a position could be.

You were fast asleep, head tilted back on the sofa in a way that must’ve been most uncomfortable. His cheeks warmed at the thought of you sitting through that for his sake. He took off his robe and draped it over your frame, smiling as you subconsciously curled around it.

From that night on, it felt like a barrier had been broken between the two of you. Sebastian’s hand would seek yours beneath tables, his touch would linger on the small of your back in Hogsmeade.

“She always made me feel welcomed.” He said to Harry, eyes glazed over as he stayed half-distracted is his reminiscence. “She did that for everyone.” A laugh bubbled out of his mouth. “I remember all of our daughter’s friends wanted to come stay at our home just to see her. No matter how busy she was with work, she’d make them food and sweets and entertain whatever stories they had to tell her.”

Harry found himself laughing too, a sense of longing rooting him in his spot. He watched Sebastian, who he’d read about as a formidable curse-breaker unafraid of anything, turn to nothing more than a smitten schoolchild at the recollection of your younger memories and wondered what it would’ve been like to hear such stories from his own father.

“When she passed, it seemed as though the world itself stopped to grieve. Our Annie didn’t know what to do and I didn’t know how to help her. I mean, how can you tell a child her mother is dead?” Sebastian was vaguely aware that he was preaching to the wrong choir, but he so rarely got to wallow in the pain he felt all those years ago and found himself swept into its storm all over again.

The word ‘child’ caught Harry’s ears and made him look at Sebastian in confusion. “How could Anne be a child when Y/n passed? She said you had her at thirty.”

Sebastian’s mind cleared, shock melting to realisation on his face as the fact you’d kept your death from Harry dawned on him. “She was thirty-eight when it happened.”

“How?” Harry found himself asking without care for how insensitive it may have come across.

“It was supposed to be her final mission before retirement. She’d been worked to the bone for over twenty years, and if I carried on in my post, we’d have had more than enough money to carry on comfortably while she minded Anne. She was promised an easy case to finish it off, something about a loose canon in the south of France. She insisted to bring me along for ‘aid’ but I knew it was because the year prior I’d made comment about wanting to visit.”

“The case itself was fine, an old witch had written a barely legible spell book centuries before our time and passed it down from generation to generation as nothing more than mantle decoration, but it fell into the hands of a reckless wizard. Between the two of us, he was contained easily, but he had a wife who didn’t know the full story. She saw none of his wrongdoings and only us defeating and detaining him. She cast a killing curse on me whilst my back was turned and—” His breath caught in his throat.

“Her valiance had always been both my most and least favourite trait of hers. She pushed me out of the way before anyone could blink.”

A heavy silence settled over them both. A pit weighed in Harry’s stomach, stoking a fire of anger at the injustice of the Wizarding World.

His mother was a kind woman. His father was a kind man. You were kind. And what kindness was afforded to you in return? A cold death by an uncaring wand? Is that what truly came from devotion? Is that what would come to him?

“I’m sorry.” Was all he managed to say to Sebastian.

“There’s no need. I’m with her now.” The man smiled back. “It’s funny, when we were younger, I would be so annoyed every time an artist requested to commission a painting of her because it took away from the time I could spend with her. But once she passed, I couldn’t have been more grateful for them, because it gave me infinite chances to speak with her again.”

It wasn’t long before Harry felt the gentle temptations of sleep crawl to the forefronts of his mind and he bid Sebastian adieu after making the portrait promise to say hello on his behalf.

Decades had passed now since that first fateful day in the potions corridor. Harry had grown from a feeble and uncertain boy to a man weathered by grief but uplifted by the love he gave and received in turn.

He recalled you saying once how you wished for him the same family you made with Sebastian and he liked to believe that he now did. His eldest son radiated a nervous energy as he hovered by the front door of his girlfriend’s parents house, his other children stood behind him, giggling at their brother’s anxiety, Ginny stood by his side and smiled up at him with a knowing look.

It was the first time they were meeting the girl’s family, having met her once or twice in passing when they dropped James Sirius off at 9 3/4, and Harry couldn’t have been more excited if he tried. The way his son seemed to glow at the mention of the girl put him in mind of how he did with Ginny, how Rob did with Hermione, how Sebastian had that night in the Leaky Cauldron.

He wondered how the two of you fared in the years since he last spoke with you. It seemed as he travelled for auror work, he found less and less time to spend in the Three Broomsticks speaking with a painting over a few too many firewhiskeys. He hoped you were well and that you’d be proud of what he managed to accomplish, that he carried on the ‘chosen one’ lineage with a happy ending just as you had before.

Before he could wallow any longer, the door swung open to reveal a woman with a warm smile and brown eyes. “Hello!” She beamed.

“Amelia?!” Ginny exclaimed with a bright before introductions could be made. The woman’s jaw dropped in shock.

“Ginny Weasley?!” The redhead ushered her children inside to give the other woman a tight hug. “Merlin, you’ve changed since Hogwarts.” She let out a breathy laugh, holding Ginny by the shoulders.

“We were in the same year.” Ginny explained to her husband while Amelia told the children her daughter was just ahead in the front room.

“Lovely to meet you officially, Harry.” Amelia smiled and shook his hand. “My husband’s just popped down to the shop to get some wine and I’m finishing up the dinner, so make yourselves comfortable. Food should be ready in about ten minutes.”

Ginny went inside to greet the girl her son was so besotted by while Harry stayed back to hang her coat. As he walked toward the front room, he took his time in admiring the artwork lining their walls. They were all nice pieces, although nothing seemed to grab his attention until he saw the plaque on the last one before the door.

He could hear the fire crackling and his family laughing, but there was only one thing he could focus on. Y/n and Sebastian Sallow.

He dared not look up for fear he’d somehow misremembered the name of the woman who saved his school time sanity and raised his hopes for naught. He kept his eyes firmly in the plaque until he heard that same soft voice once again.

“Hello, sweetheart. I thought you’d gotten lost.”

©voguesriot 2025

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[giuli4nna]

SUNDOWN

⏾ 12 : NIGHT SIX

the dock is quiet, but nothing about tonight feels calm. sometimes the only way to move forward is to push your way through every ugly truth.

sundown came and went with a soft warmth, the kind that clung to your skin and lulled the waves into a still hush. the last glimmers of light paint the water, shadows stretching long across the dock as the day slips below the lake’s edge.

it should feel peaceful, but you can’t seem to get rid of the tightness in your chest.

everyone else is by the fire behind the house, their laughter occasionally drifting through the trees to reach your ears all the way down by the shore.

mandy hadn’t pressed when you declined her invitation to join - just offered you a small, knowing smile before brushing off your absence with a quick excuse to the rest of the group.

you needed space. needed air. but mostly, you needed quiet.

so, now you’re sat at the very edge of the dock, your legs dangling above the surface, feet just barely brushing the cool water below.

you’ve been sitting there for an hour or two - just watching the light fade away, and selfishly wishing that you could disappear right alongside it.

until, the rustling of grass behind you snaps you out of your daze.

at first, you thought it might be mandy or claire. but the steps are slower, more hesitant. weighted in a way that tells you exactly who it is without even needing to look.

“hey,” you hear hamzah’s voice, low and cautious.

you don’t answer.

he stops a few paces away, the old wooden boards creaking beneath his feet. “can i-”

“no,” you say, cutting him off before he can finish the sentence. you don’t turn to face him.

there’s a pause. a long one. silence sits heavy between you.

“please,” he tries again. “just- just listen to me.”

you stand, brushing your hands off on your thighs. “you don’t really deserve from me anything right now.”

“i know i don’t,” he says quickly, his voice breaking a little. “but i’m asking anyway. please, just give me five minutes, or something.”

you look over your shoulder, meeting his eyes. his expression is tired. apologetic. desperate, even.

but you can’t let that soften you - it’s not good enough.

“i’ve given you so much time, hamzah. i waited for you to just be honest with me - and i thought we were getting somewhere, but you blew up in my face again.”

“i was pissed, alright?” he fires back, his voice rising slightly. “martin was being a dick, and you were just - sitting there. like none of it meant anything to you either.”

your mouth drops open for a moment, stunned. “are you serious right now? you’re mad at me for not defending you, when you’re the one who’s been walking around acting like this whole thing would never have any consequences?”

“i never said that.”

“you didn’t have to.”

he runs a hand over his face, breathing hard. “i didn’t know what to do, alright? i panicked. i said a bunch of shit i didn’t mean.”

you let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “and now you think showing up and saying please instead is enough to undo all of that?”

“i don’t know,” he says, voice strained. “i don’t know what’s enough. i just - i need you to let me try.”

you glare at him, chest heaving, the pain still too fresh to soften. “you don’t get to ask for that,” you whisper, voice trembling. “not yet.”

hamzah steps closer again, and this time you don’t move away. you just look at him like you’re daring him to say something that’ll push you past the edge.

“i didn’t know what to do with the way i was feeling,” he says, slower now, like each word takes effort. “i’ve never had to.. deal with something like this. with someone like you.”

you narrow your eyes. “what the fuck does that even mean?”

“it means i care about you, okay?” he says, his voice cracking. “too much. more than i wanted to. and i didn’t know how to handle that.”

you press your lips into a thin line. “so, what, you decided to ruin it before i could?”

“no! i-” he breaks off, frustrated. “i told myself that if i pushed you away, it’d be easier.”

you laugh, bitter and sharp. “easier for who? you? that’s really convenient, hamzah.”

“i know,” he says quickly, like he’s trying to get ahead of the rising anger in your voice. “i know i hurt you, but i was hurting too-”

“don’t,” you snap. “don’t try to make this about your pain when you’re the one who-“

“i’m trying to tell you the truth-”

“you’re not listening!” you shout.

and when he opens his mouth again, trying to push through your anger, something inside you just.. snaps.

you step forward and slap him.

it’s not hard. not really. but the sound of it echoes off the water like the crack of a gunshot.

he stumbles back a half step, stunned, one hand slightly lifted like he wasn’t sure if he should block it or take it.

the silence after is deafening. you’re breathing hard, eyes watery. you don’t feel an ounce of regret.

“you don’t get to interrupt me anymore,” you say, voice low and trembling. “you don’t get to cut me off or twist the story to make yourself feel better.”

he blinks, eyes wide, lips slightly parted - but he says nothing.

“i was your friend,” you remind him once more, fists clenched at your sides. “long before anything else.”

you take a shaky breath.

“you could’ve come to me. you could’ve told me you were scared or confused. and i would’ve listened. because that’s what friends do.”

for once, he looks like he has absolutely no idea how to respond.

“but instead you humiliated me and made me feel stupid. and you couldn’t even have the decency to be honest about why.”

you fully stare at him, folding your arms tightly across your chest.

“so, do you really think i’m just gonna fall apart every time you throw out some half-assed apology?”

“no,” he says quickly. “no. i know that. i don’t expect you to forgive me. i just - i need to tell you the truth.” he pleads, remembering the advice he received from martin.

he pauses, looking at you expectantly. his eyes search yours, and you can tell he’s holding back something heavier.

when you don’t move, leave, or yell at him, he takes it as permission.

“i’ve never been good at.. any of this,” he says, cautiously moving closer to you. “not with people, or with feelings - i didn’t think this would ever become more than what we agreed on. i kept telling myself it wouldn’t. but it did.”

you scoff under your breath, eyes narrowing. “yeah - and instead of telling me that, you made me feel like it was all in my head - like i was the crazy one for even suggesting it.”

“i know,” he says, his voice cracking. “i know i did. and that’s on me. that’s all on me. i didn’t know how to deal with it, and instead of just talking to you - like we used to - i ruined everything.”

you open your mouth, the fury building again, but he cuts you off - not with force, but with sincerity.

“i have feelings,” he says, grabbing your hand. “for you.”

the words hit like a tidal wave, slamming into you with full force. he says it again, like he needs you to hear it twice to believe it.

“real feelings. and i don’t care about our fucking agreement. i’ve felt all of this while, but it just scared the shit out of me the more real it became.”

you try to pull your hand from his, but his grip tightens just enough to keep you there. his voice lowers roughly, like the words are scraping their way out of him.

“please,” he says again, quieter this time. “just.. please.”

you glance up at him, and for a second, you almost don’t recognize the look in his eyes. for once, there’s no arrogance or cockiness.

just desperation.

regret.

but you’re still angry.

“why?” you snap, yanking your hand free. “so you can call it a mistake again? push me away the second it gets too real for you?”

he flinches as if you slapped him again.

you cross your arms, blinking against the sting in your eyes. “don’t waste even more of my time, hamzah.”

hamzah exhales shakily and runs both hands through his hair. “fuck,” he mutters under his breath.

“i didn’t mean it. what i said about it being a mistake. i just.. panicked. i thought if i shut it down fast enough, i wouldn’t have to deal with-” he pauses, shaking his head like he’s frustrated with himself. “i didn’t want to feel all of it.”

you stay quiet, watching him closely, letting him scramble for his words.

“you’ve been in my head for months,” he finally says. “like - i couldn’t stop thinking about you. even when i tried. especially when i tried. but it all got worse when we came on this fuckin’ vacation, and..” he shakes his head slightly, sifting through all the thoughts running rampant in his mind.

“..and i thought, okay, if we keep it casual, if i just keep my feelings to myself, maybe it won’t ruin everything. but it did, didn’t it?” he says, his voice getting weaker by the moment.

your throat feels tight. you hate how much you want to believe him.

but you can’t let him off that easy.

“so you hurt me to protect yourself,” you say bitterly. “that’s really great, hamzah.”

“no,” he quickly counters. “no, i wasn’t trying to hurt you, i swear. i just- i didn’t know what else to do. i kept telling myself that we were only hooking up, that you didn’t feel anything either-”

“i told you that i did,” you interrupt, your voice sharp.

he nods, wincing. “i know, i know. and i ignored it. i didn’t want to admit it to myself, because the second i say it out loud, it becomes real. and if it’s real, it means i have to face all of it.”

you glance down and catch him picking anxiously at his nailbeds.

“it wasn’t just about how i feel about you - it was about what it would mean for us, for everything we already had. and i was terrified i’d just fuck it all up.”

“you did fuck it up,” you say, folding your arms tighter. “you didn’t just shut me down, hamzah. you made me feel stupid for trusting you.”

he closes the distance between you slowly, like he’s approaching something fragile.

“i know,” he murmurs, sounding like a broken record at this point. “and i hate myself for it.”

by now, you really want to believe him. but you can’t be done just yet.

“i can’t believe you let yourself forget that we were just friends before all of this,” you whisper, voice cracking. “you were the one person i always thought i could count on,” you say, trying to fend off the tears threatening to flood your eyes.

“but you just tried to throw it all away like it meant nothing.” you sniffle.

hamzah swallows hard. his voice is barely a whisper now.

“it didn’t mean nothing.”

you look away, but you can still feel his eyes on you.

“it meant everything,” he says. “that’s the part that scared the hell out of me. you- you scare the hell out of me. everything you make feel.. it’s all new to me.” he confesses, and it’s the most genuine thing you’ve ever heard.

you blink fast, trying to hold yourself together.

“you don’t get to just say that and expect everything to be okay,” you say. “it’s not that simple.”

“i don’t expect that,” he says quickly. “i know it’s not simple - nothing about this is. but i had to say it. i had to let you know i’m not going to be that stupid anymore.”

you study him - really study him - and see the wreckage etched into him; the tension in his jaw, the bags under his eyes, the torn up hangnails decorating his fingers.

“you should’ve said all this sooner,” you whisper.

“you’re right,” he replies. “i should’ve. but i didn’t, and i’m sorry.”

the apology lingers in the air between you. real. raw.

he steps forward one last time, until you’re chest to chest.

“i know it’s been like, a few days, but i miss you,” he says softly. “not just the sex. god, i couldn’t care less about the sex, but - you. i miss being your friend. i miss everything about you.”

you’re silent for a long moment. then, finally, you speak - your voice low and barely steady.

“if you want me to really forgive you, you’re gonna have to earn it,” you murmur. “i’m not just gonna forget about this.”

“i know,” he says. “but i’ll be here for you from now on. i’ll prove to you that i mean it, no matter how long it takes.”

you stare at him.

the man in front of you is not the one who slammed that door shut on you days ago. this is your friend, who you hold real feelings for - more feelings than you’ve ever experienced with anyone else.

he’s stripped bare, desperate, and finally, he’s honest.

you nod, once.

“okay. but i swear, if you screw it up, i’ll-”

“i won’t,” he quickly confirms. “i promise. really promise.”

he lifts a hand hesitantly, brushing a thumb over your cheekbone. you lean into it, just slightly.

when you let him touch you, it’s not out of lust. it’s a quiet surrender. he exhales shakily, like he can’t believe you’re still standing there.

then he kisses you. just to make sure that this is all real.

the moment his lips meet yours, it’s not frantic or hungry. it’s careful - like he’s afraid to press too hard, like he’s anticipating for you to change your mind and push him away.

but you don’t.

you kiss him back, testing the weight of it. testing him. because this isn’t about heat or want. it’s about everything he never said, and everything you were too afraid to ask for.

his hands cup your face so gently it almost hurts, his thumbs brushing across your skin like he needs to memorize the shape of you all over again.

your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer. everything starts to unravel at the edges.

he kisses you like he’s trying to apologize with every part of himself. like if he holds you close enough, you’ll be able to feel how sorry he is.

the press of his lips is desperate now, his breath hitching between every pass of his mouth over yours. one of his hands slides behind your neck, holding you there, fingers tangling at the roots of your hair like he’s terrified of letting you go.

you tilt your head, your nose bumping into his, your mouths clashing messily for a second - and it makes you both laugh softly, breathlessly.

it’s tangled. imperfect. real.

and god, it hurts.

it hurts how much you missed this. how much you hate him. how much you love him.

the kiss shifts again - this time slower, deeper, a little sadder. you can taste the pain in it, the way he parts his lips just enough to let you in.

his movements are like a confession, bleeding every unspoken word onto your tongue. he’s tearing himself open and giving you the shreds.

“i’m still mad at you,” you whisper against his lips.

“i’d be worried if you weren’t,” he replies, voice soft.

you look up at him, searching his face. “..but i believe you.”

his gaze wavers, like he’s scared to hope too much. “yeah?”

you nod. he kisses your neck softly. a silent thank-you.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers against your skin, over and over like a mantra, his breath catching on the words. “i’m so fucking sorry.”

you press your forehead to his, eyes closed. “you better be.”

“i am,” he breathes out. “more than you know.”

you kiss him again - not because you forgive him yet, but because you want to keep believing that he means it.

for the first time, it doesn’t feel like you’re chasing after something empty and meaningless.

one of his hands slides down your back, curling around your waist as he pulls you into his chest. your knees bump together, your noses nudge, your hands rest flat against his heartbeat.

and that’s how you stay.

wrapped in each other’s arms, mouths still brushing in slow, unfinished kisses - until your anger fades into exhaustion and the dock becomes your bed.

you’ve both sunk down, your bodies draped across the dock, tangled together.

his arm is slung over your waist, his hand tucked just beneath the hem of your shirt. you two are pressed together like you can’t stand even an inch of space.

his breath moves slow and even against your collarbone, the sharp edge of emotion having dulled into a drowsy silence.

your fingers toy gently with the fabric of his sleeve, eyes fluttering open every few seconds to glance up at the sky. the stars have come out in full, sprinkling themselves across the darkness above you. beneath you, the dock is firm and cool, the wood slightly damp.

neither of you have made an effort to leave. not when the night fully blanketed over you, not even when the breeze picked up and the air got colder. hamzah only shifted closer, his nose nudging your temple, his thumb brushing idly against your ribs.

finally, your eyes begin to close.

the last thing you feel is the weight of him beside you. the last thing you hear is the sound of crickets humming and the splash of a fish breaking the lake’s surface. there’s a high possibility you’ll wake up covered in bug bites, but you don’t care.

the world fades around you - soft, still, and somehow, for the first time in days, entirely quiet.

you don’t dream. there’s no need to.

he’s already there.

read part thirteen here

a/n: yay..? yay..!

xoxo giulia

taglist: @gulicore @sturniyolo @slushingmynoob @testdrivethv @ecstqzy @slushyboob @ldrvinyl @xoxoange1l @sleep9times @chrissvalentine @str8fromttpd @elysiumb @hamzahsbiggestfan @ilovezah @screamertannie @i-miss-summer24 @willowpeaks @slushedup @harrys0nlyange1 @venus-planetof-love @milkteabish @xarerie @gabwilliams @slushypoopz @isathefantastic @modernbaseball17 @rock678 @hoe4hamzah @anginluv @slushingkoala @simonegrimes @marixoa @brlwla @cupidsbrainrot

[liddleglitterygirl]

You're sat in the rain, huddled on the curb looking pathetic, when your big brother finally manages to get you, dad's old truck pulling to a stop right in front of you. He scoops you up, not caring about the rain, and clutches you to his chest like you're a lost kitten instead of his annoying baby sister, and you try to push him off, but his arms are locked around you like iron bars.

I was so worried, is all he says.

The shame of it all bubbles up and overwrites the sadness and you fight him in earnest because there's no way he can see you like this, all vulnerable and blotchy and weak.

He makes that awful noise, a sharp tch, and you freeze, waiting for the kind of fight you'd (mostly) stopped having when you were like ten. But he just hoists you up into his arms and gets back in the truck, holding you close on the bench seat as he cranks the heaters. Shh... It's okay, you're okay now. Your big brother's here, yeah? He doesn't make you look at him, like he's been fucking making you do lately, he doesn't comment on the horrible little noises working their way out of your chest or complain about the water soaking into his jeans and more importantly the seat of his cherished truck— he just holds you, almost too tight.

One hand snakes up the back of your shirt, but it's just to splay across your spine and rub in soft soothing circles. It's okay, kid, I'm here. Nobody gets to hurt my little sister.

You both hear the but me he doesn't say. But these days he isn't much one for hurting you, just... Putting you off balance.

A hand on the nape of your neck just too tight while you're trying to finish your stupid math homework — but then, he helps you puzzle through the last few problems. A rough hand on your wrist when he finds out you've been talking to — the thought makes you sob in earnest, and he just nods, tucking you into his chest. I know, kid, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. He kisses the top of your head and you can't remember the last time he did that, but god if you don't want him to do it again. Please, is all you can muster voice thick with tears and snot. Please what, honey?

You squirm, but his grip tightens, the hand soothing you dropping to your hip and clenching tightly, the one around your shoulders turning you like you weigh nothing. Tch. Look at me, kid. You shudder, but when his grip tightens you meet his gaze, fear spiking through your embarrassment. His eyes are so similar to yours, but while people, teachers mostly, said your eyes were bright and shiny and gentle, his are deep and dark and dangerous above all else. You shiver again, but you gaze up at him as you hiccup, the emotions of the day getting to you. Please... Do that again.

He tsks softly, shaking his head, and for a moment you feel your heart break the tiniest bit, but then, inexplicably, perfectly, he cups your jaw so sweetly, so tenderly, and kisses your forehead, your tear-stained cheeks, and then, so gently, your mouth. When you don't pull away, he tugs you closer to meet his mouth and kisses you a little deeper, but it's still the most tender kiss you think anyone's ever given you -- and that's enough to mute the nagging little voice in the corner of your head going but but but

You instinctively slip your hands up, around his neck, kissing him back, and for a moment you're terrified you've spoiled it all because he groans into your mouth, but the sound is warm and wet on your tongue as he tastes you. And he doesn't stop. He just tugs you closer still, his hand guiding you, you scrabbling to follow the nudge of his wordless command. He pushes and prods until you're straddling his thighs, the too short skirt you'd been teased for hitched up to allow your thighs to spread wide enough to sit on his lap like this. God, but he has thick thighs, you think for a moment, but then he's guiding you in a slow rocking motion, one hand on your hip, his mouth never leaving yours, the other hand slowly working the zipper of -- little girl, is this my hoodie? You blush, hazy from the kisses and, against your better judgement, nod. He grins, moving both hands to your face. Little thief.

You said I could—

Oh really? I said you could borrow my hoodie so you could run around town with that pack of mean girls? In this skirt? One hand, looped into the waistband of your too short too short too revealing oh god -- you're whimpering and struggling, now, as you realize with horror what you've been doing, where your increasingly soaked panties are currently pressing against your brother's bulging cock, oh god --

In one swift motion, he hits you, just one quick, sharp slap across the face, and the keening stops. Shut. Up. You whimper. Did you like it? His voice is a low, rough thing, almost a whisper, almost a growl, his jaw tight. You realize you haven't moved since he struck you, haven't breathes, so you heave in a great, shaking breath, and he grins as you exhale. Well?

You can only barely nod, cheeks turning bright red, you just know it, as you try to slowly, (maybe he won't notice?) pull yourself away, so his cock isn't pulsing right against your aching, dripping cunt, oh god -- but he presses his hands to your shoulders, pushing you down until you grind so hard against him you feel him throb under the denim. You make a tremulous, horrible, wobbly noise, and, instinctively, roll your hips, seeking that feeling again. And you get it, you feel him pulse through the fabric, his jaw so tight his teeth must be aching because you can see it, see the tension roiling off him.

Again. He taps your ass, not a slap, but a warning, and you repeat the motion, eyes wide, gnawing on your lower lip which is swollen from his kiss, and this time, when he pulses against you, you moan in pleasure. That's it, princess, he growls, his hands finding your face again. That's it, get it baby girl. Make yourself forget about that silly boy, you don't need him, you don't need anyone but me -- his words go strangled as you reach one hand to the zipper of the stolen hoodie in question, pleading with him. He groans, nodding. Yes baby, take it off for me, lemme see, let your big brother tell you how pretty you look. You blush, but you still do it, slowly unzipping the faded red hoodie you'd stolen out of his room, solely because it smelled like comfort and safety and you had wanted, wished against all practicality, that it would buoy you through today, like borrowed armor making you strong — making you cool and sexy and confident like the girls always said he was. You bite your lip harder, and he makes that tch noise, and then everything is a blur. His hands and hips move so fast, ripping the sodden hoodie from you and tossing it to the floor, bucking up against you as he closes the distance between you and kisses you fiercely, hungrily, claiming your mouth. Whatever control you still had snaps, and you go limp in his grasp. He never breaks the kiss, never letting go of your chin with one firm hand, as you melt, letting him undo your bra, cause why not, since it's wet too — there's a flicker of embarrassment, but then... letting him guide your hands back to his knees, as his chest is pressing against yours, as he undoes the hoodie he's wearing, as the soft dusting of chest hair as he presses you down against his chest makes you gasp. He undoes the front of his jeans, leaving his aching erection pulsing under his briefs, a wet spot neither of you could claim exclusively already soaking the grey fabric dark. He smiles into your kiss, dragging you closer, letting you kiss him as he reaches behind him into the tiny backseat. He brings forth one of your favorite blankets, a fuzzy soft Christmas pattern that you wrap yourself up in all year round, and wraps it around your shoulders. Shh, don't stop. That's my girl. My girl. He trails his hands around to your front, fisting the blanket and holding you tight to him, as he grinds up into you, making you keen and whimper and whine into his increasingly rough kisses, his hands so tight in the blanket you almost think it's going to rip. You clutch at his shoulders, and his mouth trails down your neck, biting and kissing and sucking and you gasp, feeling the deep warmth spread through your frigid aching bones.

There you go, kid, just like that, let me make it better. His mouth trails lower, licking at the curve of your collarbone, sucking softly at the two freckles he's always secretly thought look like the Disney stars. You whimper, bucking your hips, and he mutters hold the blanket, and you scramble to, clutching at it, as he tilts you back onto the seat, sucking harder at that starred point as he ruts against you, grinding his aching cock against your soaked panties. The windows are fogged, but he can't find it in him to care -- he half wants those fucking girls who made his sister call him crying, that fuckboy that lied to his girl, wants the whole damn school to see him make his little sister cum just like this, and he knows you must be close, with the brainless trembling noises you make every time his hips slide against you, rising in pitch and like the sweetest music he's ever heard. Come on, princess, come on, right there, I know you can do it, you can let go for me, can't ya? You can come for your big brother, you can feel good jus'... Fuuuck, just for me, yea? Only for me, mine, yer mine... His words start to slur as he chases both your pleasure, your cunt so warm and wet even through the incredibly thin layers of cotton between you two, and god he can't let himself even think about what you must look like, he has to focus on these two goddamn freckles or he will cum, right now, and ruin the whole thing, because he needs to feel it, needs to feel you soak him, and he's half begging and half commanding you as he holds your thighs hard enough to bruise. Come for me, please baby I need it, I love you angel, oh, god damn, come on, come for me please...

You keen his name, slurring it into big brotherrrr and drop the blanket to cling to his shoulders, your pretty pink nails digging tiny crescents into his skin, and that's it, for him. His control is gone and he needs you to cum now, right, fucking, now, or he's going to fuck you open right here in the middle of the street, for everyone to watch, and as his hips stutter, as he starts to reach the point of no return, he reaches up and wraps his hand, slowly, gently, firmly around your throat, and bites down on those fucking freckles.

You cum screaming loud enough it's a miracle the cops didn't show up after. He's too busy leaving a mark he knows he'll have to explain, but God, your skin tastes like heaven and you're so warm and wet and he can feel it even through the fabric as you cum, a rush of warm wetness that overwhelms the last bit of control he has and as his brain shuts off entirely and he kisses you so deeply that you don't know whose air is whose, he cums, covering your soft tummy and the panties he can't let himself look at and the hem of that fucking skirt with what feels like the best orgasm of his life.

You lie there for as long as it takes to feel like you can both breathe normally again, which would have gone a lot faster if he had gotten off you, instead of staying tangled on the seat with you, softly rutting against each other and kissing and whimpering, caressing each other, nuzzling like puppies. When he's finally sensate enough to try to function, he doesn't let you get dressed, doesn't even let you clean his cum off your skin, just tucks you under his arm, against his bare chest, his hand knotted in your hair, holding your face to him, his mouth pressed to your head. I love you, kid, he murmurs. The only reason he lets go is to use the gearshift and take you home.

[buckybabybaby]

puzzle pieces

A/N: Just a very short piece of mostly fluff for my favourite new falcon <3 All the avengers are still alive in this au, not very relevant to the plot but I miss them, so.

Can be read as the same relationship as in first and last if you want.

Pairing: Joaquín Torres x reader (gender neutral)

Plot: Joaquín reassures you when you feel out of place at a party.

Warnings: very mild angst

(fluff, established relationship, self doubting reader, reassuring Joaquín, background Sambuckysteve - mentioned once, bff Bucky)

Word count: 1.3k

Masterlist

AO3

***

You have made a mistake. When Joaquín invited you out this evening, to a party, you thought it would be a lot more formal than this, and so you dressed to fit the occasion.

It's an easy assumption to make. Joaquín gets invited to all sorts of events, and the avengers own parties can rival the biggest film premieres and award shows in terms of dresses and suits, so you didn't want to turn up and be mistaken for press, or worse, a crazy fan.

Seeing everyone in their t-shirts and jeans has you stopping short in the entrance, your outfit choice suddenly feeling ridiculous.

You want to leave but Joaquín spots you before you can make a break for it. Waving to you as he takes a last swig of his drink, he claps his friend on the back and makes his way over. As he approaches his smile turns bemused, taking in your outfit.

"You get a better offer, mi amor?" He calls across as he squeezes through the crowd. "Ditching me for something fancier?"

Leaning in to kiss you when he arrives, you struggle not to freeze up and reject him. He takes your hands from where you've crossed your arms and pulls them out to get a good look at what you're wearing.

"Should I buy you a corsage? You look like you're going to prom!" He laughs.

"Don't, Joaquín." You whine, tears welling up in your eyes. "You said it was a party. I wasn't expecting Tony's galas level of dress up, but something closer to that than this."

"Clearly, my pretty pretty baby."

He tries to kiss you again but this time you do pull away. That's when he takes a second to really read your body language, your frown, wet eyes, hunched posture.

His own demeanour changes, softly taking your hand again. "Let's go sit, okay?"

He leads you away from the crowd over to the far side of the bonfire. Pulling you down with your legs over his, he holds you close as you look around the party, at all the carefree people, how different they are from you.

How different you are from Joaquín.

The old doubts come to the surface again and you sigh. "Why are you with me, Joaquín?"

He looks horrified at the out of the blue question. "Sweetheart, what?"

"I'm useless. I can't even work out the dress code correctly for a simple party."

"You're the most beautiful person here, that's not a bad thing."

"But it's more than that." Your voice breaks but you push through. "I always stick out. It takes it all out of me to even get here, let alone interact with others. While for you, it's easy, natural. Don't you want someone who can match that? Someone who doesn't need a weeks notice to prepare themselves to be social?"

Joaquín shakes his head through your whole speech, and as soon as you finish he presses a quick kiss to your lips.

"Nope." He states simply. "The way I look at it, you don't need to be the same to fit together. Like puzzle pieces. We work because we're different. Imagine how tired I'd be if I didn't have someone like you to remind me to chill? To take a break?"

He kisses your forehead this time.

"And I like to think I help you get out of your head sometimes. You always enjoy these parties even if you don't want to go to each and every one, yeah?"

You nod, letting a few tears fall.

"So try to remember that," He finishes, dabbing at your eyes gently. "You keep me calm in this crazy world. I don't want anything else."

Joaquín always knows the right word to say. He also knows when to let you sit quietly, enjoying his company and warmth, admiring how good he looks tonight, skin glowing and curls fluffed out in the way you love.

"Sorry for being silly." You say eventually.

"Never silly, my pretty." He squeezes your waist. "Especially pretty today. If this was a gala you'd be the prettiest, best dressed person there. This outfit is very old school glamour isn't it?" He looks you up and down again, finally clocking your choice of footwear. "Apart from the trainers. I haven't seen these before?"

"They're new."

"I can tell, they are fresh. I need sunglasses looking at them."

You laugh, his efforts to cheer you up working.

"Are you okay to stay?"

Humming in agreement, you add, "Just a little cold. I thought it'd be more inside than this."

"All right, how about this. I get you a plate of all your favourites, and-" Joaquín scans the crowd. "Oh, there's our favourite anti-social super solider. Wanna go keep him company? And I'll find you a sweater."

You look where he's pointing, at Bucky who is sat alone on the opposite side the pit, nursing a beer you know has no effect.

Nodding, you let him press a longer kiss to your lips before he bounces off, making you giggle at how full of energy he is.

Scooting around the edge of the fire, you wave to Bucky as you get near and he stands to pull you into a hug.

"Hey, glad you made it."

You snort. "Only just. And looking like I missed a turn on the way to the Oscars."

"Nah, you look good. Better to be over dressed than under, I think."

Bucky brings you to sit close, watching you carefully for a moment.

"Don't doubt how good you are for Joaquín, okay?" He says, tone serious. "That boy adores you as you are. You don't need to be anything more for him."

You blink at him, surprised. "Did you hear?"

"Not on purpose. Super solider hearing is a curse sometimes, sorry."

"It's okay." You give him a small smile. "Thank you for saying that."

"Only because it's true. Like he said, I don't want to think how much more insufferable he'd be if you weren't able to rein him in at times."

Bucky being playful is a rare sight and you laugh in delight at his faux insult. "Speaking of annoying boyfriends, where's yours?"

"Over there."

He gestures to the ping pong tables, where Sam and Steve are playing some sort of drinking game with a few others you don't recognise. The rules seem unclear even for those partaking, Sam looking a lot more gone than anyone else and half hanging off Steve as he cackles loudly.

"I'm leaving them to it for now."

"Sensible." You say, remembering all the times you've sat with Bucky, watching your boyfriends cause mayhem together before eventually intervening to advert disaster. You wouldn't be surprised if tonight ends in a similar way.

Joaquín returns, placing two full plates on the table and draping the sweater he found over your shoulders. The scent of his cologne washes over you and you snuggle into it, letting Joaquín wrap you up in his embrace and offer you the first bite of food.

"This all for me?" You ask once you've finished chewing.

"Too much? I wanted you to have a bit of everything. Sam's sister Sarah provided a lot so you know it's going to be good." He gets another fork full ready, adding, "Anything you don't want I'll have."

He goes to feed you again and you try to protest, taking the cutlery yourself. He takes it back just as quick.

"Let me, please."

Typical Joaquín, always looking after you. Your heart warms, but you still ask, "Don't you want to go back to your friends?"

"I am with friends. As much as Bucky likes to pretend otherwise."

Bucky looks like he's going to object, giving up and admitting dryly to you, "I'm warming to him."

"Ha!" Joaquín almost jumps out of his seat, only held back by being entangled with you. "From Bucky that is practically a confession of love."

"Don't push your luck kid."

Bucky hides his smile behind his bottle, you own growing as you watch them together.

However this night started, you're glad you stayed. In the glow from the soft fairy lights, Joaquín sends you a look that says he will always be there, like your matching puzzle piece, stuck together through it all.

***

Thank you for reading!

Masterlist

[fratttymatty]

MorphMe

(All characters are 18+)

Elliot Hart was the definition of niche. A 20-year-old computer science major with a stack of anime Blu-rays, a Bernie Sanders sticker on his laptop, and more Funko Pops than friends. He was proudly gay, proudly nerdy, and proudly convinced that his brain was his best asset. His social life consisted mostly of online forums and heated Reddit debates about politics and Star Wars continuity.

One evening, as he scrolled through a lesser-known app store to find some quirky productivity tools, a strange app caught his eye: "MorphMe: Update Your Self". It had zero reviews, a glowy blue icon, and a tagline that read: “Be the you you’ve never met.”

Elliot raised an eyebrow. “Sounds dystopian. Love it.”

He downloaded the app.

Upon opening it, a series of sliders and checkboxes appeared on screen. Gender: Male. Sexual Orientation: Gay. Intelligence: 100%. Appearance: Twink. Personality: Cute.

He chuckled and set everything just right, including a little sparkle emoji next to “cute.” Then he hit “Confirm.”

The screen glitched. Hard.

Lines of code zipped across the screen. A notification popped up: "Applying New Settings..."

Suddenly Elliot’s phone vibrated violently. He dropped it as a bright flash filled the room. When he opened his eyes…

Everything had changed.

He sat up in bed — a bed that was now massive, messy, and covered in protein bar wrappers and gym shorts. The posters of Studio Ghibli were gone, replaced with flags: American flags, Gadsden flags, and a giant Sigma Alpha Theta frat banner. The air smelled like Axe body spray and whey powder.

Elliot… wasn’t Elliot anymore.

He was Chad.

Literally. His phone buzzed with a message:

"Yo CHAD bro, kegger tonight at Mike’s. Bring Stacy 🍑🍒"

He stood and caught his reflection in the mirror. Shaggy dirty-blonde hair, rippling muscles, tanned skin, a backwards cap, and not a hint of irony anywhere. His rainbow pride pin had been replaced by a “Don’t Tread on Me” button. His brain felt… lighter? Not stupid, just… breezy. Like algebra was a foreign language, but chugging beer and flexing came second nature.

“Dude… sick,” he said to no one, admiring his pecs. His voice was a deep, confident baritone — not a trace of his former nasally tone.

He opened his closet: polos, tank tops, khakis, and way too many pairs of Oakleys. No more anime tees. No more cardigans. No more Bernie.

And… he didn’t miss them.

Later that day, Chad strolled across campus, his arm wrapped around Stacy, a blonde with lips so glossy they could reflect sunlight. She was chirping away:

“Baaaabe, we totes have to go to Cancun for spring break! Like, it’s gonna be sooo wild. You, me, margaritas, and like, no thoughts. Just vibes.”

He laughed. “Hell yeah, babe. Cancun sounds hella rad.”

He didn’t remember Elliot. He didn’t remember being gay. All he knew was the gym, the frat, and how Stacy looked in a bikini. He fist-bumped his new bros, cracked open a Bud Light (Ironically, he hated IPAs now), and settled into his life.

He never opened the MorphMe app again.

Because as far as Chad was concerned — this? This was who he was always meant to be.

[sukioyakio]

𝐒𝗍υρ𝗂ᑯ ᥣⱺ𝗏𝖾

Paring: Popular!Sukuna x reader (fem)

Both are in High-school and in sophomore

Summary: You badly need to get your biology grade up.So you had asked your teacher for to tutor but then your meet with him.

An: i got this idea from how my friends were helping me study for biology,and so i said hell yea. I hope you like this I been having this draft for so long-i needed to post it. Sorry for the grammar errors.And yes im still working on the requests (im so sorry for taking so long).

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ : 1.5k

Sukuna isn’t just a total street fighter, drug dealer, frat, or a player but he’s actually pretty intelligent in any subject but mostly on science, like in biology.

Which right now you were failing. What? You couldn't blame yourself science was never your thing. But when everyone else understood the lesson with ease; it made you feel stupid to ask them what the hell was going on and plus you didn't want anyone else to think you were stupid.

So, you asked your kind biology teacher if he could tutor you, instead he said he could ask one of his best students to tutor you.

but you would’ve never guessed it to be him....

Sukuna?

Sukuna out of all people!

It just doesn’t feel right seeing someone all tattooed, with hard-rock band logos and piercings at such a calm quiet scenery like a fricking library!

But that doesn’t matter because you need deep help with this class. You’re now sitting down stiff with awkward tension. You haven’t looked at him ever since you sat down in your seat. But all you know is that his sharp red orbs are creating black holes in your face.

‘God this is so fucking awkward’ Your voice ringed your mind, you hated that your antisocial behavior when it comes to meeting people or just being in a group of people you don’t know closely. You wished you had some sort of confidence like one of those people on social media to be able to talk to anyone without caring about their opinion's.

''Did you just come to be all shy or shit to fail or to waste my fucking time?"

His voice, harsh and deep; lanced with annoyance; ripped through your thoughts. Easily commanding attention to him. Giving you literally shivers.

You instantly turned to him with pleading eyes 'god please don't go I need your help' you rapidly spoke with a desperate plead "I'm sorry it won't happen again "you repeatedly said in a chant type of way.

"Shut the fuck up already" his cold and harsh tone instantly made you shut up. You were surprised he hadn't left yet, but in reality, you were relieved that he hadn't; your shoulders practically relaxed. You still felt pretty small against someone like him; it was like nobody being next to somebody who flows off confidence.

Sukuna easily got annoyed by your speech, simply groaning at the thought of actually tutoring you. But then again, he only agreed to tutor you. After that same teacher you had he had for a different period, but the class weighed more since it would give college credit.  

He said, 'if you tutor her, like actually tutor then I'll let you skip this class however you like it'. And so, he took the deal; since he had already been skipping the class just now, he won't be in detention for it.

So, thinking that you're not horribly failing the class and just need help with a lesson or two, but boy was he wrong.

"What does the animal and plant cell have in common?”  he announced in the mist quiet of the library, his eye boring into yours.

Your face scrunches up in confusion as if you hadn't heard his words. He immediately huffs out and then repeats himself.

"What does the animal and plant cell have in common?” He glares at her in annoyance, ready to behead her. He tapped his finger rhythmically against the table, a clear sign of impatience as he waited for you to give a damn answer.

You nodded; dismissing the rhythmic finger tapping sound, as you were pointing your finger up and down in a slow motion. Searching throughout your brain cell to find the answer. Your eyes light up, as you mutter “oh!!” with a confident smile.

“Wait they both have a Chloroplast!” Your response with renewed vigor, projecting a new confidence on your face. Looking at him with a proud look in your eyes. But to see his face turn to his normal stern to a horrific disgust looked on his face.

‘Maybe i was a little too confident. ...’  You said under your breath.

Never mind what he thought ten seconds ago, you're going to be the worst person to tutor. Just from that answer only.

“You got to be kidding me . . .” he groaned out loud. Some librarian told him to lower his voice, but he couldn't care less. His hand ran through his pink lock, the action showing his frustration. As he could’ve gone out and enjoyed hitting his blunt and chill with his boys.

But no.

You were fucking losing it up there in your brain after hearing his response to your answer. This is literally why you hated science related stuff; he acting just like your older brother whenever you're chatting, and he decided to talk about doctor stuff. AND HE Expect YOU TO KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT The BODY!!

“A-” he speaks but get interrupted by you.

“OK!! Wait it must be prokaryotic, right. . .?” Your voice raised at the beginning but slowly lowered its volume at the end, signifying that you're not completely sure.

“If I was you, I would shut the fuck up before I leave for you to fail” he responded with glares going straight to your soul. You shudder in silence, before making a loud gulp sound.

You felt like a tiny insect under this man's gaze. This was going to be one hell of a tutoring session, if you still wanted a passing grade...

 He rolled his eyes at your loud gulp, leaning back into his chair with a huff. This was going to be a LONG ass day for him. He wanted to skip this session, but nooooo, now he's stuck here tutoring some girl that doesn't know the answers to the most basic ass science questions.

"Did you fail the class or what? How do you not know the goddamn one single similar thing between prokaryotic cells and eukaryotic cells" he groaned, rubbing his temples with his fingers.

He leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table in front of them. "Prokaryotic cells are basically just single-celled organisms, like bacteria, and they don't have a nucleus. Eukaryotic cells such as plant and animal cells are the ones with a nucleus, and they're found in everything from plants to animals to fungi. You see? Easy" he said, tapping his index finger on the table emphasizing his point.

You stare at him, before nodding. “Ah... Of course that makes ...Perfec-”

“You didn't get a damn thing what I said didn't you,Dumbass” He interrupted you. Having you sigh hard, and slumping down on the desk, covering your face and groaning out loud in the process.

“I'm so going to fail” you muttered.

Silence erupts around both of them. He leans back to his chair, forcing himself up, looking  at the ceiling with a stern and annoyed expression. His eyes flickered towards your gloomy aura.

 Before anything, Sukuna just suddenly hits your back, like hard. . .  Causing your head to jerk up and look up at his stern face. Your brows furrowed down in a ‘what the fuck’ expression.

 “OW, What the hell!! " You shout at him. The librarian whispers loudly at where you both are again. He just huffs out a smirk before it disappears. Through the intensely stern and harden exterior, his eyes held the smallest hints of pity for you.

“Are you just going to quit, like that. Fucking pathetic” he murmurs the last part making you feel worst already. Your eyebrows lowered and pulled closer together. Feeling even more pathetic than before.

You look away and respond weakly “no... I'm not quitting”. 

Sukuna eyebrow raises, “now really” He replies with a mockery. His tone of mockery made your heart tighten with annoyance but as well from how he treated like you cant learn shit. (Definitely not from a PowerPoint)

 You turn to look at him, with an annoyed expression. “Yes, really” you reply with more attitude in your voice.

He smirks at your response, a sly look in his eye. "Oh yeah? Then get your head out of your ass and actually pay attention for once, instead of just sitting there and daydreaming" he snaps back at you. He can practically see your patience wearing thin.

You grumble at that reply, as if you hadn’t already done that before, and you still can't get a damn about the lessons.

"I'm here to help you pass, not to make you feel better about yourself" he added with a scoff. "So, stop acting like a damn damsel in distress and start acting like you actually want to pass this goddamn class."

As he passes you a piece of paper with his writing on it. Standing up and before pushing his chair inside the table. “Watch these videos and then we can study. I’m not going to tutor someone who doesn’t even know what the difference or similarities between a plant cell or an animal cell is” He leaves right after he says that. Leaving you dumbfounded and annoyed.

You grab the piece of paper and read what it says, ‘go to amoeba sister and fucking watch the video “biology for beginner” better take notes.’ Your face quickly smiles widely at least for once you had someone guide to lean on, this is better than having to understand everything on a PowerPoint.

TBC

To be honest i have no idea how to make a part two of them. I did started writing for the part but i loss.I might discontinue it or not.

Taglist: @ukininayu @mononijikayu @scoobysnakz @hayhaylovestowrite @lynxslokley @ciggrx @cherryredstars

made by @sukioyakio 2025

masterlist

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for yesdanger behind the cut; “YJ packs up and gets pupped”. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Well, um–I don’t think I have,” Suzie says, looking embarrassed for a moment. “I don’t, um–remember if I have. So that’s sort of the same thing, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Kon says, his mouth mostly pressed against the pillows but his eyes still peering over the top of them at her. He thinks “cute” means she likes it. Like–Suzie’s not the type to call something “cute” and mean it in a shitty or demeaning way or anything. “I mean–it’s the same to you, right? So it’s the same.”

“Right!” Suzie says brightly, looking–relieved, a little. Maybe she thought he was gonna tell her it wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t really know. They don’t, like . . . hang out alone all that often, really. Like–not in the way where they’re talking about anything much, anyway.

Anything really at all, honestly. Like–just while they’re on the topic of shit that people maybe don’t wanna think about, he means.

“I, uh–haven’t really either,” Kon admits a little awkwardly and then immediately regrets admitting. God, that is so fricking embarrassing, especially for an omega. And like–he didn’t know he was gonna be an omega, yeah, but Suzie’s probably just forgotten anyway, and . . .

Well, like . . . he doesn’t actually know that, admittedly. Even Suzie doesn’t know where she actually came from or what her life was like before the DEO. Maybe somebody’d made her like Cadmus had made him, or maybe she’d just been handed over by her family and in a lab since she was born, or she’d just freakin’ condensed into existence all on her own, or just any other reason she might’ve never seen a real nest up close before.

So like–no, he doesn’t actually know, he guesses.

. . . they don’t actually know, he guesses.

“Really?” Suzie asks, ducking down a little so just her eyes show and peering over the edge of the nest at him, her fingers curled lightly against it. She doesn’t ask him why or anything. Just . . . asks him if it’s true, that’s all.

“Uh, yeah,” Kon says, and glances down at her foggy hands and hair and what he can see of the smoky trail that follows her everywhere and how close all those are to his nest without actually being, like–in his nest, and . . . and like . . . “You really, uh–think it’s . . . cute, or whatever?”

“Yes!” Suzie says, immediately perking up again and popping up enough to beam at him. “It’s really cute. Do you, um, need more things for it?”

“Uh . . . Reddie already brought me a lot, so . . .” Kon trails off, resisting the temptation to say “yes” anyway. Just–whatever Suzie maybe went and got–if that’s even what she’s offering to do or whatever–it’d smell like her. And it’d smell more like her than the blanket does, because she’d have just touched it, and maybe even deliberately, like . . . scented it, or . . .

She wouldn’t do that, he tells himself, embarrassed by even thinking shit like that.

“Oh,” Suzie says, and visibly wilts, her smoke and fog settling down heavier around her body as she forces a smile. “Um, good. Good! I’m glad he got you good stuff.”

“. . . he did, yeah,” Kon says, and like, he’s not always all that great at reading people but Suzie is real easy to read, and it seems like she’s, like . . . disappointed, a little. Like maybe she wanted to . . . like . . . “Uh. I kinda put it all in the nest, though, so I don’t really have, uh–any extra blankets to, you know, get under or anything . . .”

He doesn’t actually really feel like doing that, but he’s pretty sure some omegas do that, and if she really, like . . .

“Oh!” Suzie says again, and perks up again too.

[otp-after-dark]

“I love you. I know you love me too.” —Nick Blaine, 6x06

This is the Nick Blaine episode we’ve been waiting for. He’s done hiding, done waiting, done assuming he doesn’t deserve her. After everything that happened in 6x03 — the hug, the heartbreak, the “see you later” — something in him shifts. Now, in 6x06, he finally believes it: She loves him too. And this time, he’s not walking away. He’s asking her to come with him *to Paris*?!

We open on another favor. Another call. Another quiet ask. But this time, Nick doesn’t answer with silence.

“I need to talk to you.”

And from that moment, it’s clear — Nick has made up his mind. Since the last time they spoke, since "see you later", he’s been playing it all over again in his head. And he’s ready.

He’s ready to burn it down. To choose love. To choose her. To stop being afraid.

He goes to her. And he’s already unraveling.

He’s fraying from every angle — Wharton, the Eyes, the Guardians, the memories. But mostly? The weight of finally wanting more.

He asks her to spend the night with him. Takes her hand. And then, the truth spills out of him — tender and raw:

“Sometimes I think you’re the only good thing in my life.”

He hugs her like he can’t breathe without her. Because he can’t.

And then, the flashbacks.

This isn’t just memory. It’s longing. It’s grief. It’s hope clinging to the edges of everything they never got to have.

Season 1. The first time. When everything was still soft. When the world was already burning, but somehow they were still untouched.

June in the light. Nick’s hands careful, reverent. A moment stolen in the wreckage — not for survival, but for love.

And now, years later, Nick closes his eyes. Because he’s there. Not in the moment physically, but spiritually, emotionally — in every cell of his body.

He’s back in that room. With her.

And then — Paris.

“I wish I could take you to Paris.”

That’s not a joke. It’s not a line.

It’s a life. A version of them that was never allowed to exist — walking through gardens, drinking wine, raising their daughter under a different sky.

A Nick who could hold her hand on a sidewalk without dying for it. A June who could breathe freely without looking over her shoulder.

And you can see it on his face — how much he’s imagined it. How much it means to him. It’s not fantasy — it’s what he’s been holding on to to survive.

And then she says it.

“You’d be you. Good. Kind. Brave. And very, very handsome.”

She says it like it’s obvious. Like it’s always been true. Like it doesn’t need to be earned — just seen.

And for Nick —that’s everything.

Because all this time, he’s believed he wasn’t enough. Too tainted. Too compromised. Too dangerous. Too Gilead.

He says it himself earlier:

“I wasn’t anyone. You wouldn’t have noticed me.”

And June just… stops that thought. Dead in its tracks.

“You’d be you.”

What she’s really saying is: I see you. I always have. I love the man you were, and the one you became. Not because of Gilead — despite it.

And this? This is the moment Nick finally believes it.

That she loved him then. That she loves him now.

It’s why he kisses her like he’s starved. It’s why he says “I love you. I know you love me too” not with doubt, but finally with certainty.

Because in those flashbacks, he’s not just remembering. He’s reclaiming something. He’s saying: That was real. It was always real. And it still is.

Meanwhile — the Serena chat.

It’s not all truth. But it’s telling.

June admits she wondered if Nick would come with her to Alaska. That she assumed he wouldn’t. Because of Rose. Because of what he said in Season 5.

But that assumption is already unraveling.

Because she knows now: Luke is not the one. She doesn’t mention him. Not once. Because this isn’t about Luke. It never really was.

Jezebel’s. The fallout.

He does what she asked. But nothing in Gilead comes without a price. He thinks he got away clean — but Wharton is waiting. Pressing him. Watching him.

“These lies are going to end you on the wall.”

Nick isn’t just risking his life. He’s risking hers, too. If he doesn’t play it right, they’re both gone.

And so — he gives Wharton just enough. Not betrayal. Survival. The cost of trying to love in a world that kills love on sight.

And then. The moment.

Nick storms in. Not quiet, not composed, not careful. He doesn’t knock. He doesn’t wait. He needs her.

All fire. All heart. All clarity.

“I love you. I know you love me too.”

It’s truth. It’s everything he’s been holding back finally ripping through.

Because Nick Blaine — the man who’s always held back, who’s kept his love quiet and his distance loud, who’s lived in fragments and shadows — is done waiting.

He knows. Not thinks. Not hopes. Knows.

Because she didn’t say goodbye in 6x03. Because she still comes to him.

This isn’t an affair. It’s not a secret. It’s a life. The life they were never allowed to have.

And for the first time, Nick asks for it. With his hands. With his eyes. With everything.

The kiss is a free fall. Desperate. Messy. Alive.

Nick murmurs “mhmm” into her mouth like he’s trying to memorize the shape of her. Like he’s finally breathing after years underwater. Like if he lets go now, he won’t survive it.

He kisses her like this is it. Because it is.

And then — June asks about Rose. Not Luke. Never Luke.

Because they both know Luke isn’t in this room. He hasn’t been in this story for a long time.

“You’re it. It’s always been you.”

It's always been June. That’s not a line. That’s his soul. That’s every moment he stood in the shadows. Every time he stepped back so she could move forward. Every time he let her go because he thought it was the right thing — even when it broke him.

But now? He’s not letting her go again. Not without telling her what’s real.

He’s not asking for a maybe. He’s not asking for another in-between.

He’s asking for forever.

And June?

She leans in. She chooses him.

She kisses him back — not tentative, not confused — but sure.

And in that kiss? She says yes.

Yes to them. Yes to the life they dreamed of in Paris. Yes to the man who never stopped choosing her. Yes to being his, again — finally.

Nick smiles. Really smiles.

That soft, boyish, wrecked smile we haven’t seen since season one. Like the weight of years has finally lifted.

“You’re crazy,” she says, breathless. He says, "I know."

Because they are. They both are.

But that’s what makes it real. What makes it theirs.

Because this love? It was never safe. Never clean. But it’s true. And in this moment, they both believe it might be enough.

Even just for one night. Even just for now.

Final Reflection:

Nick and June’s love was never built for a clean world. It was born in fire. Forged in survival. Built on stolen moments and desperate choices.

And 6x06? It isn’t the end. It’s the first time they both admit what’s been true all along — out loud, with no hiding, no half-measures.

“I love you. I know you love me too.” “You’re it. It’s always been you.”

They both choose it. They both want it.

That matters. That changes everything.

What happens after — the "betrayal," the chaos that follows — it’s not about Nick giving up on her. It’s not about June walking away from him.

It’s about the brutal reality of the world they’re still trapped inside. The forces bigger than them. The enemies closing in. The ways survival demands sacrifices that love alone can’t always fix — yet.

But the difference now? They’re not pretending anymore. Not to each other. Not to themselves.

They know where they stand. They know who they would choose if the world let them.

And someday —they will choose each other for real.

Because Nick isn't just some tragic side love. June isn't just some unreachable dream.

They are each other’s home.

Always have been. Still are. Always will be.

Love like this doesn’t die. It just waits. And one day, it will finally have room to breathe.

[kyoshithewriter]

Quick Fix.

warnings: smut (18+), angst (a little mention of colorism)

A/n: And boom, a little treat for a few followers who requested Wilo. 3k words of mostly smut again ibr (follower requested I make it sexy I hope I didn’t disappoint 😅) enjoy?

Silene’s already laboured breathing worsens when she catches a glimpse of him in her peripheral vision. She hurries to face forward, pouring all of her focus into keeping her plank position. The man walks past her and heads towards the treadmill a few steps away. He pulls his shirt over his head revealing a white wife beater underneath as he steps onto the machine. A few gentle steps gradually grows into a brisk walk and then he’s eventually jogging. Silene flops on her belly, her muscles burning. The gym is relatively empty today, only one other man by the rack of dumbbells doing some bicep curls, so she looks her fill. She once joked to Lily, her best friend since university, that one of the best parts about landing a high paying job is being able to afford living in this luxurious apartment complex so she can ogle him. William. Star center back for both club and country. The 6’4, caramel skinned man never leaves her mind. He is a vision; from his sharp, always fresh fade, to his brown eyes framed by wispy lashes and his neatly trimmed goatee. She heard him speak in person once, and the deep baritone of his voice lilted heavily with a French accent made her want to scream.

Silene tries to focus on the woman on her ipad screen. She knows she can easily do her Pilates classes inside her apartment, but she chooses to use the gym for obvious reasons. Getting in her downward facing doggy, Silene huffs in annoyance as her faux locs fall free from the sloppy bun she wrapped them in. Her eyes zoom onto her empty wrist and she sighs. In her haste to get here after work, she forgot to carry a scrunchie down with her. A pair of sneakers come into view on her right. Silene holds her breath at the very familiar pair of shoes. She slowly looks up to see him standing over her; eyeing his outstretched hand, she notices the two large elastic bands that dangle on the tip of his index finger.

“Um… thank you, so much.” She whispers, eyeing him from beneath her lashes. On her knees like this, he looks so much bigger. Her mouth goes dry as her thoughts drift of what else she could be doing on her kn-

“You’re welcome. I hope they help. I um, I noticed- er, I always have them just in case.” He rubs at the length of his neck bashfully.

“They will. They feel strong enough.” She tries to joke but they both just chuckle like the sound was forced out of them.

She clears her throat and reaches to gather hair in a fist, but a few strands keep falling from her hand.

“Let me… may I?”

Silene stiffens for a second and then she nods. Her breath hitches as he gathers her hair in a large fist. The muscles in her lower belly spasm and clench; her entire body locks tight.

“Go on.” He gruffly urges.

Silene wants to scream to the high heavens as he helps her loop the elastic bands over her hair. She’s so grateful for her dark skin otherwise she’d be red as a tomato. The air feels electric between them. She’s aware of their every breath. His scent of fresh pine tickles her nose. Silene reaches to adjust the sports bra that suddenly feels too tight on her skin.

‘Please don’t see my nipples, please don’t see my-’

“Alright. All done.” The timber of his voice seems lower.

“Thank you.” She says a bit breathlessly.

“I’m William, by the way.”

She reaches to accept his outstretched hand, marveling at how big, warm and calloused his palm feels.

“Silene. Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise. I’ll um… see you around?”

“Um… yeah.” She returns his smile.

Silene pretends she doesn’t notice the subtle glances he throws in her direction for the duration of her workout and she’s sure he does the same.

********

“I swear, he only helped me put my hair in a ponytail and it was the most erotic thing that I’ve ever experienced.”

Her friend cackles over the phone.

“You should have invited that man into your home a long time ago.” Lily mutters absentmindedly. Silene hears shuffling in her friend’s background and huffs.

“Are you doing work while I’m having a crisis?”

“Well yes. This report is due tomorrow; what use would it be for me turning in my work late just to listen to you rant about not getting any for the twentieth time?”

Silene eyes herself in the mirror. Her almond shaped, cocoa brown eyes stare right back; the curve of her nose almost dainty on her face, mouth small but lips full. She’s beautiful, she knows this. But growing up and experiencing colourism the way she has impacted her confidence in ways that she still tries to deny even at 23. She’s always second guessing how men see her; ‘does he like black women?’ Or ‘if he does, does he like them as dark as I am?” It’s exhausting to always be in her own head like this, but it’s sadly her reality. So much so that she gave up on dating since she turned 19.

“You should talk to him. Find a reason to invite him up to your apartment. He only lives a floor below you, right?”

Silene strips out of her workout clothes as she waits for the shower to warm up.

“Uh-huh. I don’t know how to do that though.” She almost whines.

“Pretend something needs fixing, men love feeling useful.”

“Nothing in my apartment needs fixing though.” She sighs.

“I disagree, that pussy does.” Lily cackles like a maniac over the phone while Silene rolls her eyes, fighting the urge to smile.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?”

“I’m hilarious. But seriously, fuck up a tap or something. Pretend the ac is broken, I don’t know.”

“You know what? I’m going to do it. Tomorrow.”

Steely determination shines in her eyes in the mirror’s reflection.

“We’ll see.”

********

Her stomach rolls over itself as she paces just a few feet away from his door. She wouldn’t want him to see her through his peephole walking past his door every other second. That surely would nip this plan in the bud.

“Okay. Just do it.” She takes a deep inhale that fills her lungs to their capacity, letting it all out in a loud whoosh. Silene marches up and gives two firm knocks against the smooth, wooden door. She wrings her hands as she waits. The silence stretches.

‘Should I knock again? He’s probably not even ho-’

The sound of the locks being opened makes her heart freeze in her chest. The door swings open to reveal him shirtless, eyes half mast and confused. His presence kickstarts the muscle in her chest too quickly and it causes her to cough awkwardly at the palpitations.

“Silene, yeah? Everything okay?” Concern pulls the corners of his mouth down in a slight frown.

“I, um… my tap… in my kitchen? Could you um…” she bites at her lower lip, trying not to stare at his chest.

“Sure, I’ll take a look. Gimme a second so I can…” he gestures to his bare chest and Silene can only nod with her throat dry.

Silene feels like hurling when he steps through her front door. He’s in her apartment. Finally. She had cleaned the place out from top to bottom and lit up her coconut and salt scented candles. Silene leads him to the kitchen where she had spent minutes using a pair of pliers to tighten the kitchen tap as much as the strength in her limbs allowed.

“Um, it started tightening up a few weeks ago and now I can’t seem to turn it on. I’ve been calling maintenance but…” she trails off as the lie burns the back of her throat.

He hums as he pockets his phone in his basketball shorts. He walks over to the sink and reaches for the tap. He twists three times. Water pours from the tap.

Silene is torn between being impressed by his strength and wanting the ground to open up and swallow her as embarrassment burns hot under the surface of her skin.

“Oh! Look at that!” She pumps her voice full of faux excitement.

“Hmm.” The man turns his gaze on her; amusement shines bright in his brown eyes.

“Well… um, thank you?”

“You walked past every door on this floor and found mine; I wonder why?” He stalks in her direction.

Silene steps back until her back bumps against her kitchen island.

“I guess it’s a busy evening. No one is home yet.” She feigns nonchalance with a shrug.

He invades her space and reaches over her shoulder.

“I see. You could’ve at least hid the pliers better.”

Silene closes her eyes, releasing a string of curses as he brandishes the yellow handled tool she accidentally left on the island in her nervous state.

“I was trying to fix it.” She blinks up at him owlishly.

“Hm. So should I leave then?” He touches at her waist tentatively.

Silene can only shake her head, breaths coming out in quick pants.

William hauls her by her waist up onto the kitchen island and stands between her spread legs.

“Tell me right now if you don’t want me to fuck you on this kitchen island, Silene. Because I want to.”

Silene’s breath whooshes out of her like a wheeze at the punch of arousal that hits her gut.

“Want it.”

He bumps his nose against hers, breathing in her every exhale.

“Kiss me, please.” She whines desperately.

“Since you asked so nicely..”

She moans into his mouth when he crashes their lips together.

******

If you had told Silene a week ago, hell even a day ago, that she’d be spread across her kitchen island with William’s mouth between her legs she would have laughed in your face. But nothing is funny, not right now. Not when his tongue is so warm, so soft yet insistent as he laps at the swollen little bundle of nerves he has bared with his thumb and index.

Silene’s eyes him with tears wetting her cheeks and her mouth agape. Her body is coiled so tightly with tension. He has had her on edge since the moment his mouth had found the pulse point at her neck that he licked and sucked until it became tender.

“William please..”

The man looks up at her from between her legs. Silene can only drop her head on the island with a thud at the sight of him looking up at her, lapping at her like a man starved.

Her toes curl tightly by his head and she sobs at the familiar pressure building in her lower belly. Silene reaches a hand to grip at his head, undulating against his warm mouth.

“Wilo, don’t stop, ‘m gonna come.”

He groans and the vibrations force her to close her legs around his head. He reaches to grip both her legs and spreads them as he continues his assault. Silene stiffens as he closes his lips around her clit and begins to suckle on it.

“Oh f-fu-” she trails off in a silent scream as the orgasm tears through her body. She presses into his face harder, hips working faster and he just flattens his tongue against where she’s wet and throbbing for her to use him for her pleasure. He loves it; all the blood in his body rushes south and he hardens even more than he thought was possible. He’s almost lightheaded with how aroused he is.

Silene can only twitch and whimper as he kisses his way up her body.

“You’re so beautiful. Do you know how long I’ve been wanting to talk to you? To have you like this.” He punctuates his words by dipping his tongue in her belly button. He feels her spasm beneath his tongue.

“Every time I go to the gym, I hope you’re there so I can admire the way the sun hits your skin and your eyes through the glass just right; so fucking gorgeous, baby.”

Silene moans in response, eagerly accepting the wet press of his mouth against hers. She smells and tastes herself on him and it makes her skin burn.

Stepping away from the island, he retrieves a square packet from his pocket. He smirks at the bewildered look in her eyes.

“I knew exactly what this was when you came all the way downstairs to get me, Silene. Don’t look at me like that for being prepared.”

She flushes from head to foot, but keeps her eyes on him as he removes his shorts and boxers in one go. Her eyes bulge from sockets at the sight of him bobbing, jutting proudly away from his body. Fuck. His happy trail is neatly trimmed and she always wondered why they called it a happy trail; but when it leads to something like that… she swallows heavily.

“I’ve always loved admiring you from behind too, Silene. Get down and turn around for me.”

She almost falls in her haste to get down from the counter. Her legs feel like jelly but she hurries to turn around and bends over the hard surface. Her breaths come out in haggard little puffs as anticipation dances up her spine. William groans from behind her.

“So perfect, sweetheart.”

His hand pets along her spine. Silene shivers.

She grips onto the edge of the island when she feels his blunt tip against where she’s dripping. He presses a firm hand to her back as he slowly eases his way inside.

Silene whimpers as she stretches to accommodate him. He’s big; bigger than any toy she has locked away in her drawer in her room. The cold marble rubs against her sensitive nipples and heightens the sensation.

“Fuck, baby. This is… why are you so…”’he chokes as he meets resistance somewhere deep inside her.

Silene moans, reaching a hand back to press against his lower abdomen.

“Wilo...” She whines breathlessly.

“I know, baby.”

He pulls his hips back and slowly inches forward. He keeps his pace steady and slow, allowing her time to get used to the stretch.

“Oh fuck… so deep, so full.” She sobs.

“You’re doing so well, hm? Feel so fucking good wrapped around me.”

He keeps going until the hand against his abdomen stops resisting and the slide becomes slicker. Her body slowly welcomes him. All of him.

“There you go, good girl.” He praises as he slips a little deeper. She moans his name like it’s the best thing she has ever had and the need to please her even more gnaws at him.

Silene squeezes her eyes shut at the bass of his voice. His hips pick up the pace and her eyes almost roll to the back of her head. Silene switches between standing on the very tip of her toes and flat on her feet; the pleasure making her almost dance on spot as she takes and takes.

“Wilo- hah!” She cries as the familiar clench in her belly.

He reaches to grasp both her hands and lock them behind her back in one of his hands. The other he uses to hoist her right leg up to rest her bent knee on top of the island. The position opens her up more and he slides even deeper.

Silene chokes as tears stream down her cheeks.

“How can you feel this fucking good, hm?”

The new position causes him to bump something over and over inside her that’s making her see stars in her brightly lit kitchen. The sound is so obscene as she gets even wetter. The orgasm tingles under her skin, just out of reach. She tries pushing back against him, wanting to fall into the precipice of pleasure. But it keeps out of touch.

“Wilo, I want to- I c-can’t.” She sobs in frustration.

“Yes you can. Take a deep breath, baby.”

She sniffles but obeys, sucking in a deep breath. He slows the motion of his hips, dragging along her walls purposefully.

“Show me how much you love it. Hm?”

He presses deep to make tight little circles against that spot inside her.

Silene can only choke on a gasp as she comes. She tries to thrash but he locks her in place. Sobs wrack her entire frame as she spasms around him endlessly. The orgasm steals the breath from her lungs, it makes her skin tight and she feels tingles even in her teeth.

“There you go, baby.” He groans as he works her through it.

Silene feels lightheaded by the time she stops shaking. She inhales a lungful of air greedily.

He drops her leg to the floor, pulling her body against his.

“Okay?”

“Uh-huh.” She nods weakly. She pushes her hips back against him. He’s still hard.

“Want to stop?” He chokes as she keeps grinding against him.

“Want you to come.” She whispers in a moan.

He pulls her face over her shoulder to kiss her sloppily as he plants his feet and starts fucking into her faster.

Silene moans in his mouth, muttering gibberish around his tongue. His hips grow sloppy and his chest vibrates against her back with his moans.

“Fucking-” he cuts himself off with a grunt, enveloping her in a bear hug and crushing her body against his as comes.

Silene moans along with him, shivering as she feels the condom grow warm. His hips stutter and he releases a pleased sigh.

They stand in each other’s embrace as they catch their breaths. Silene’s thoughts going a mile a minute as soon as the haze lifts.

‘Was this just a one time thing? Will it be awkward after this? Am I just okay to have sex with but not be seen with?’

He slowly pulls out and clears his throat. She turns to face him and finds that he’s already staring at her with a small smile on his face.

“So… Do you have any plans on Saturday? There’s a new sushi restaurant in town. Want to check it out?”

Warmth spreads throughout her entire body and a smile stretches her cheeks wide.

“I’d love to.”

[inkphoria21]

Stay a little longer - JK Oneshot

ᯓ★ Pairing: Jungkook x f. reader

ᯓ★ Genre: boyfriend!Jungkook / girlfriend!reader / lovers / making out / Flirty / playful / romantic / teasing

ᯓ★ Words count: 1k

ᯓ★ Masterlist

The sky outside was a heavy gray, thick with the promise of rain, but inside, the world was warm and slow. The soft patter of Jungkook’s playlist drifted from the living room speaker—mostly lo-fi beats, low and easy, the kind of music that melted into the air rather than filled it.

You were curled up on his big couch, your legs tucked under a blanket, a mug of tea forgotten on the side table. Jungkook padded barefoot across the wood floor, his sweatpants hanging low, his black hoodie looking much too good on him for it being such a lazy day.

When he caught you staring, he grinned, boyish and a little smug. “You’re not even pretending to hide it anymore.”

“Hide what?”

“That you’re obsessed with me.” He dropped down next to you, nudging your foot with his knee.

You snorted, pulling the blanket tighter around you. “You’re the one who asked me to stay the weekend. Clearly, you’re the obsessed one.”

He reached out, tugging at the edge of your blanket until you yelped and kicked at him half-heartedly. His laughter was warm and low, rumbling deep in his chest as he settled beside you, pulling the blanket until you had no choice but to share it with him.

“You’re cold,” he said, noticing the way you burrowed into the throw.

“No, I’m not.”

He gave you a look—one of those raised-eyebrow, unimpressed Jungkook looks that made you want to either kiss him or smack him.

“Your toes are freezing,” he muttered, sliding his hand under the blanket and wrapping it around your ankle. “Liar.”

You shifted closer, the couch dipping with the movement. His arm slid naturally around your shoulders, and you rested your cheek against his chest, feeling the slow, steady beat of his heart beneath the fabric.

“Stay all day,” he murmured.

You smiled into his hoodie. “Wasn’t planning on leaving.”

He made a soft, pleased noise, his fingers tracing idle shapes against your shoulder. For a while, neither of you spoke, just listened to the music and the occasional rumble of distant thunder.

Then, just when you were starting to drift, Jungkook broke the silence.

“If you fall asleep on me, you owe me five kisses.”

You lifted your head, giving him a suspicious squint. “Since when?”

“Just now. New rule.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “What if I fall asleep and you wake me up?”

He smirked. “Then you owe me ten kisses. Interest, baby.”

You laughed, tipping your head back against the couch. “That’s a scam.”

“It’s a good scam,” he said cheerfully, his hand sliding up your back, fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. “And you love it.”

You should have been annoyed at how right he was.

Instead, you grabbed the front of his hoodie and pulled him closer, kissing him square on the mouth—quick and teasing, a promise more than anything.

“There’s one in advance,” you said, grinning.

He made a low sound in his throat, something like a growl. “Dangerous game, babe.”

You kissed him again, slower this time, lingering just long enough to feel him tighten his grip on your waist.

“Two.”

“Keep going,” he murmured against your lips. “I’ll lose count on purpose.”

You giggled, but he caught you mid-laugh, stealing another kiss, deeper now, his hands warm against your sides. His tongue brushed your bottom lip, asking, teasing, and you opened for him without hesitation. The kiss turned hungry in seconds, the kind of kiss that stole your breath and made the world outside the walls disappear.

When you finally pulled back, both of you breathing hard, he was staring at you like you were something he’d never get tired of discovering.

“Three, four, five…” he said, voice rough around the edges. “Guess you’re paid up now.”

You pressed your forehead against his, your chest heaving lightly. “Thought you wanted me to fall asleep first.”

He shook his head, his hand sliding under your shirt, fingers brushing the bare skin of your back in slow, lazy circles. “Changed my mind.”

There was something so easy about being with him like this. No rush. No pressure. Just touch and laughter and the kind of closeness that made you ache in the best way.

You shifted, swinging a leg over his lap so you were straddling him, the blanket pooling around you both like a cocoon. Jungkook looked up at you, his dark hair messy, his eyes heavy-lidded with something softer than lust—something heavier.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, almost absentmindedly, his thumbs brushing lazy circles into your hips.

You ducked your head, shy and smiling. “You’re just saying that because I’m sitting on you.”

He grinned, the kind of grin that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “Yeah. Sitting on me very attractively.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes, and he tightened his arms around you, pulling you down into another kiss—this one slower, deeper, like he had all the time in the world.

And he did. You both did.

The rain started finally, tapping gently against the windows. The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the room. And in the middle of it all was Jungkook, holding you like you were something precious, something he wasn’t planning on letting go of any time soon.

When he eventually pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breathing steady.

“I could stay like this forever,” he said quietly.

You smiled, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw. “We don’t have to move yet.”

“Good,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Because you’re my favorite blanket.”

You laughed, the sound muffled against his chest as he hugged you tighter, the two of you tangled together as the rain poured outside and the world faded to nothing but the beat of your hearts and the feel of each other’s skin.

No place to be. No one else to answer to.

Just you, Jungkook, and a quiet forever waiting at your feet.

[transformers-spike]

Alright, this started out as a shitpost idea, but ended up as angst, so here. Mostly for TF One Starscream, but could maybe work for the other Starscreams as well, you tell me:

TFO Starscream praying to Primus that the Matrix of Leadership just appears out of the sky one day and vaporizes Sentinel, publicly, and lets the Energon flow again. Like that meme image of, "Please, God, let this happen because it would be so fucking funny".

But then I thought about it, and... Yeah, TFO Starscream probably stopped praying to Primus for help a long, long time ago. Because I mean, given everything that happened with the Energon flow and Sentinel and the Matrix, it'd make sense. Like, I don't think it was JUST the years fighting Sentinel and Sentinel's forces, scrounging for Energon, and seeing what Sentinel did to the original Primes that made Starscream think "a united Cybertron is nothing but a myth" and that "all that matters is one bot's strength over another".

Idk. I'm just sad about the former leader of the High Guard slowly losing his faith in his creator god-planet to help his people and turning into a ruthless bastard. No wonder he still joined up with Megatron at the end there- that was probably the most that had gone right in Starscream's life in a long, LONG time. And I mean, yeah, Optimus Prime got the Matrix and made the Energon flow again... but Starscream has seen Primes fall before, and seen the Matrix fail their people before. One bot's strength over another, tho? That, at least, didn't stop being a force for change in Starscream's world, even after the Energon stopped flowing.

Somebody get this poor bot a hug 😢

-🍁

Listen the High Guard fascinates me, because they must have lost their faith in the primes long ago. They've been scouring around like rats trying to fight a guerilla war against the Quintessons and Sentinel's forces, and I'm so so very sorry for these guys.

You are soooo fucking right with this by god

[movingmusically]

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 17

Word Count: 4.2k

Masterlist

I woke up slowly, stretching against the sheets, my body still warm from sleep. The flat was quiet, save for the distant hum of traffic outside, but the night before still lingered—thick in my thoughts, in my skin.

Austin.

The way he’d kissed me, slow and certain, his fingers skimming my hip like he was memorising the feel of me. The way he’d hesitated before stepping back, like he didn’t really want to leave.

Yeah.

I exhaled, running a hand over my face before forcing myself up.

In the kitchen, Callum was already up, slouched at the counter in his hoodie, cradling a cup of coffee like it was the only thing keeping him upright. Golo sprawled at his feet, tail flicking lazily when he saw me.

I grabbed a mug and poured myself a tea, leaning back against the counter as I took a sip.

Callum barely glanced up. “You’re up early.”

I smirked. “So are you.”

He exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah, well. Some of us have jobs.”

I hummed over my tea. “Must be tough.”

His eyes flicked to me then, lazy but sharp. “Not as tough as whatever’s got you looking all…” He gestured vaguely at me. “Dreamy.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please shut up.”

Callum smirked into his mug, but let it go.

I pulled myself up onto the counter, stretching out my legs. “What’s on the schedule today?”

“More cockpit stuff,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “Twelve hours of pretending to fly a plane.”

I sipped my tea. “Sounds thrilling.”

He sighed. “You joke, but it’s like playing the world’s longest game of ‘don’t touch the wrong button or we all explode.’”

I grinned. “So… your dream job, then.”

Callum snorted, shaking his head. “Right. Anyway.” He drained the rest of his coffee, pushing off the counter. “We probably won’t be back till late, so try not to disappear into your writing hole completely.”

I shrugged, tracing the rim of my mug. “Haven’t decided what I’m doing yet.”

Callum nodded like he’d expected that, then shot me a look as he grabbed his bag. “Just don’t sit around too long waiting for lover boy.”

I flicked a tea bag at him. “Leave.”

He chuckled, dodging it as he pulled open the door. “See you later, Ange.”

And then he was gone.

The flat fell into silence again, and I exhaled, gripping my mug.

I had work to do.

And if I happened to glance at the time more often than usual today…

Well.

I wasn’t going to overthink it.

The sun was low, stretching long golden streaks across the pavement as I sat cross-legged outside Callum’s place, papers spread out around me in a mess only I could decipher. Photos, notes, half-written pages of dialogue—an entire web of thoughts tangled together.

I needed the space to lay everything out, to see it all at once, to let my brain make the connections it had been circling all day.

At least, that was the plan.

Instead, I was mostly just staring at the same paragraph I’d rewritten five times, chewing the end of my pen.

Golo, sprawled beside me in the last patch of sun, let out a long, exaggerated sigh, like he was personally exhausted by my inability to focus.

I reached over, scratching behind his ear. “Yeah, yeah. You and me both.”

His tail thumped once.

I sighed, stretching my arms overhead, letting my gaze drift unfocused over the houses, the street quiet except for the occasional murmur of voices in the distance. It was nice out—cool but not cold, the air fresh from the earlier rain.

Maybe I should’ve just taken the day off from this. Given my brain a break instead of forcing it to work.

I tapped my pen against my knee, frowning at my notes, willing some kind of clarity to strike—

The low rumble of a car engine broke the quiet.

I glanced up just as a black car pulled up along the pavement, and a moment later, the doors swung open.

Callum climbed out first, ruffling his hair as he yawned. “Christ, that was long.”

Austin followed, shutting the door behind him, rolling his shoulders like he was shaking off the weight of the day.

My stomach did something stupid at the sight of him.

Because he looked good. A little rumpled, a little tired, his hoodie slung over his shoulder, damp hair falling over his forehead.

He clocked me immediately, sitting there amongst my scattered papers, and his face shifted—just slightly, something easing at the sight of me.

“Hey,” he murmured, a little softer than usual.

I hummed, tucking my pen behind my ear. “Long day?”

Callum groaned. “Understatement.” He threw himself down onto the step beside me, rubbing his face. “If I have to fake fly a plane for one more second—”

Austin smirked, stepping over my notes as he sank onto the step on my other side. “You’re not even the one flying.”

Callum shot him a look. “Irrelevant.”

I bit back a laugh, glancing between them. “So, what’s the plan now? Sleeping for twelve hours?”

“Tempting,” Callum muttered, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “But we’re heading to Barry’s for food and drinks.”

Austin nodded, bracing his arms over his knees. “You should come.”

It wasn’t a question.

My stomach flipped.

I reached for a stack of notes, gathering them into some semblance of order. “Who else is going?”

“Most of the cast, I think,” Callum said, stretching his legs out. “Nothing crazy. Just a few drinks, food, hanging out.”

Austin’s gaze flickered to mine, unreadable. “You in?”

I hesitated, glancing down at my scattered pages like I was still pretending I was going to get something done tonight.

Then I exhaled.

“Yeah.”

Austin’s lips curved slightly. “Good.”

Callum nudged my knee with his. “Right, then. Go get pretty.”

I rolled my eyes, shoving his leg away as I pushed up to stand. “I’m already pretty, thanks.”

Callum snorted. “Yeah, yeah.”

Austin just watched me, still smirking. “We’ll leave in twenty?”

I nodded, scooping up my notes and heading inside, heart thudding in a way I was trying really hard not to overanalyse.

I pulled off my t-shirt, tossing it onto the bed before grabbing another from the neatly folded stack. Nothing fancy—just a fitted black one—but the simple act of changing felt more deliberate than it should have.

Not that Callum would let me get away with pretending otherwise.

“You know,” his voice came from the doorway, dripping with amusement, “for a casual night at Barry’s, you’re putting in quite the effort.”

I sighed, not bothering to look at him as I pulled the top into place. “I’m literally just changing my shirt.”

Callum hummed, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. “And fixing your makeup. Very suspicious.”

I picked up my mascara from the dresser, flicking him a sharp look. “Maybe I just don’t want to look like I’ve been sitting outside all afternoon, Callum.”

He smirked. “Right. And that has absolutely nothing to do with a certain American?”

I swiped the wand through my lashes, calm, collected. “Would you shut up?”

“Can’t. It’s in my DNA.”

I exhaled slowly, pressing my lips together to blend in my lip balm. “It’s just dinner.”

Callum let out a low whistle. “Jesus. We’re at the part where you start going to social events together. Very couple-y.”

I shot him a warning look, but he was undeterred.

“No, no, I support it,” he continued, all false sincerity. “It’s nice to see my best friend in love.”

I huffed, grabbing a pillow from the bed and chucking it at his head. “I hate you.”

Callum barely dodged it, grinning as he straightened. “Austin’s smitten, you know.”

I rolled my eyes, but something fluttered in my chest. “He is not.”

Callum just gave me a knowing look—one I pointedly ignored as a knock sounded at the door.

Right on cue.

Callum grinned, smug as ever. “That’ll be lover boy now.”

I groaned, shoving past him as I went to open the door.

And then—

Austin.

Standing there, easy and relaxed, his expression softening the second his eyes landed on me.

“Hey,” he murmured.

My stomach dipped.

I smoothed my hands down my jeans, ignoring the warmth creeping up my neck.

“Hey.”

Austin glanced between us, his brows raising slightly. “You two ready?”

Callum clapped him on the shoulder. “Always.” Then he glanced at me, smirking. “Though some of us needed a little extra time.”

I rolled my eyes. “I hate you.”

Callum just grinned. “You’ve mentioned.”

Austin huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Come on, before Barry starts thinking we ditched him.”

And as we stepped out together, I refused to think about how right it felt.

The walk over to Barry’s wasn’t long—just a short stroll through the complex, the sun dipping lower in the sky, casting the pavement in a warm orange glow. The air still carried the lingering chill of early spring, but it wasn’t cold enough to be uncomfortable.

Austin walked beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his steps easy and unhurried. Callum was a step ahead, glancing back every now and then with a smirk that I ignored on principle.

The buzz of conversation and the faint sound of music drifted from one of the nearby houses, the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses growing clearer as we reached Barry’s place. The door was open, the unmistakable scent of food wafting out, mingling with something smoky—probably whatever Barry had insisted on grilling.

“Alright, who let him near a barbecue?” Callum muttered as we stepped inside, pulling off his jacket.

Austin chuckled, tossing his keys onto the side table. “It’s a trust exercise at this point.”

Inside, the place was exactly what I expected—warm, relaxed, filled with half the cast lounging on mismatched furniture, a few people leaning against the kitchen counter with beers in hand. There was an ease to it, a natural camaraderie that had formed from months of working together.

Barry appeared from the kitchen, a pair of tongs in one hand, a grin on his face. “About time, ya fuckers.”

Austin smirked. “We had to drag Callum out the door.”

Callum scoffed. “Bullshit.”

Barry barely paid him any mind, his gaze flicking to me instead. “And you—” He pointed a tong-clad hand in my direction. “—our honorary mascot. Finally making a proper appearance.”

I snorted. “Honorary mascot?”

Barry shrugged. “What else do you call someone who keeps showing up and somehow makes us all a little less feral?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That’s the bar, huh?”

He grinned. “It is in this lot.”

The conversation easily pulled me in, the energy of the room warm and familiar despite not knowing everyone that well.

Callum had already made himself at home, dropping onto the couch next to Anthony, stealing a sip of his beer without asking. Austin, meanwhile, lingered just a little closer to me, his presence grounding without feeling overbearing.

Barry tilted his head, eyeing us with thinly veiled amusement. “Drinks?”

Austin glanced at me. “You want anything?”

I hesitated for half a second before nodding. “Beer’s fine.”

He nodded, already heading for the kitchen. Barry, of course, didn’t let the moment slide.

As soon as Austin was out of earshot, he smirked. “That’s cute.”

I narrowed my eyes. “What is?”

“The way he looked at you just now.”

My stomach flipped, but I kept my face neutral. “You’re imagining things.”

Barry just let out a low hum, clearly unconvinced. “Sure.”

I sighed, swiping a handful of crisps from the nearest bowl and tossing one into my mouth. “Is this a thing now? Everyone suddenly weighing in on my personal life?”

Barry grinned. “Absolutely.”

I groaned. “Fantastic.”

Before he could get another word in, Austin reappeared, a cold beer in hand, passing it to me without hesitation before popping open his own.

Barry watched the exchange, a little too smug for my liking.

But, for once, he let it go.

The night carried on easily after that—drinks, food, effortless conversation. The kind of gathering where nothing felt forced, where the warmth of familiarity filled the spaces between jokes and stories.

At some point, someone pulled out a deck of cards, a drinking game unfolding in the middle of the living room. I ended up wedged between Callum and Austin on the couch, my thigh brushing against Austin’s, his arm resting loosely along the back of the cushions.

It was easy. Too easy.

And I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

After a while, the game got louder, Barry’s voice carrying over the music as he argued over some ridiculous rule. Drinks sloshed, laughter echoed, and when Callum elbowed me with a grin, daring me to get involved, I took the excuse to slip away.

Austin followed.

Not in a way that made a big deal out of it—just a natural, unspoken decision, like neither of us really had to think about it.

The kitchen had taken on a quieter kind of energy, separate from the chaos in the living room. From here, I could still hear Barry’s voice carrying over the music, loudly arguing the rules of whatever drinking game they’d started, but it felt distant—like background noise.

Austin and I sat on the stools by the counter, turned toward each other, the space between us nonexistent.

My leg was between his, warm where it pressed against the inside of his thigh. Not an accident, not quite on purpose either—just the way we’d settled, the way neither of us had moved away.

His fingers tapped absently against the countertop, the only real sign that he was paying attention to the sounds from the other room. But I felt his body shift slightly, leaning just a fraction closer, like he wasn’t even thinking about it.

I swallowed, tracing the rim of my bottle with one finger, hyperaware of the heat where we touched.

“So,” Austin said, his voice low enough that it barely carried past the counter. “Not getting in on the game?”

I smirked. “I think Barry’s making up half the rules as he goes.”

Austin huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

From the other room, a round of groans and laughter erupted—Callum swearing loudly about something, followed by Barry’s unmistakable cackle.

Austin took a sip of his drink, his free hand resting against his thigh, just next to mine. Close enough that if either of us shifted even slightly, he’d be touching me.

I glanced up at him.

His gaze flickered to mine, steady, something unreadable behind it.

I wet my lips, feeling my pulse pick up. “You good?”

His lips twitched like he was considering something, but instead of answering, his hand shifted just slightly—fingers ghosting against the outside of my thigh, light but deliberate.

I inhaled softly, barely resisting the urge to press closer.

Austin watched me for another second, then, like it was nothing, leaned in just enough to murmur, “Barry’s gonna drag you into that game eventually.”

I huffed a quiet laugh, feeling my heartbeat everywhere. “We’ll see.”

Austin smirked, but his fingers brushed against my leg one last time before he pulled back, reaching for his drink again.

And maybe it was nothing.

But maybe it wasn’t.

The noise from the living room swelled again—another round of laughter, the unmistakable thud of something hitting the floor, followed by someone (probably Callum) groaning in protest.

Austin glanced toward the doorway, amused. “Think they’ve started wrestling yet?”

I snorted, tracing my thumb over the condensation on my bottle. “Give it ten minutes.”

His lips twitched, but his gaze flickered back to me, lingering. “You having a good time?”

I tilted my head, considering. “Yeah. It’s nice.”

Austin hummed, swirling the beer in his bottle. “Barry likes you, you know.”

I huffed. “Barry likes causing chaos.”

He smirked. “That too.” A beat passed, then—quieter—“You fit in with everyone.”

Something about the way he said it made my stomach tighten.

Because it wasn’t just a casual comment.

He meant it.

Like it wasn’t a given, like he’d noticed. Like he’d been watching.

I shifted slightly, feeling the warmth where our legs pressed together, feeling the weight of his gaze.

From the living room, Barry’s voice rang out, cutting through the low buzz of conversation. “Oi! Where’s our mascot?”

Austin exhaled, dragging a hand through his hair, his gaze still steady on mine.

I smirked, rolling my bottle between my palms. “Sounds like my break’s over.”

He huffed a quiet laugh, but as I moved to stand, his hand slipped down, pressing lightly against my thigh, just above my knee.

Not stopping me.

Not holding me there.

Just… reminding me.

I swallowed.

And then I stood, smirking down at him. “Coming?”

Austin’s gaze flickered down my body—quick, deliberate—before he grabbed his beer, pushing up from the stool.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “Right behind you.”

And when I stepped back into the chaos of the living room, I still felt the ghost of his hand on my leg.

The energy in the living room had shifted into something even rowdier—Barry standing on the couch, arms raised like some kind of victorious gladiator while Anthony and Callum booed dramatically. A pile of playing cards lay scattered across the floor, along with several empty beer bottles.

I shook my head, stepping back into the fray just as Barry spotted me.

“There she is!” he bellowed, pointing. “You’re up next.”

I smirked. “I didn’t agree to anything.”

Barry scoffed. “Not how this works, mascot.” He bent, swiping a card from the floor. “Right. This one means…” He squinted. “Shit, I don’t remember. Someone get me the list.”

Callum groaned from his place on the armchair. “For fuck’s sake, Barry.”

I snorted, plopping down on the couch next to him, tucking my legs up beneath me. Austin followed, sliding into the spot beside me with an ease that didn’t go unnoticed.

Anthony waggled his eyebrows, but I ignored him.

Barry, still struggling to remember the rules of his own game, let out a long sigh. “Alright, new plan. Mascot gets to pick someone to drink with.”

I quirked a brow. “That’s a real rule?”

“Nope,” Callum muttered, rubbing his temple.

Barry shot him a look. “Don’t question the system.”

I rolled my eyes, but my stomach dipped slightly. Because, really, there was only one choice, wasn’t there?

I glanced to my left, where Austin was lounging back against the cushions, his arm stretched along the back, fingertips brushing lightly against my shoulder. He met my gaze, eyes warm, waiting.

I exhaled, reaching for a fresh beer from the table.

Austin’s lips twitched as he leaned in slightly. “That a challenge?”

I smirked, passing him the bottle. “You tell me.”

His fingers brushed against mine as he took it, slow and deliberate, before he twisted off the cap with one hand, tipping the bottle toward me in a silent toast.

I clinked mine against his.

Barry let out a low whistle. “Ohhh, this is interesting.”

Callum groaned. “Shut up, Barry.”

But he was grinning. And so was Anthony. And so was half the damn room, watching with varying degrees of smugness.

Austin ignored them all, his gaze still on me as we both took a sip.

Just a drink. Just a game.

But his knee was still pressed against mine.

And maybe—just maybe—it wasn’t just a game at all.

The night stretched on, drinks flowing, laughter echoing through the room. The low thrum of a familiar song weaving between conversations, mixing with the warmth of it all.

I let my head tip back against the couch, watching the way Austin’s fingers absently traced patterns along the label of his beer bottle.

Unhurried. Unthinking.

Like he didn’t even realise he was doing it.

Like he was just—comfortable.

With me.

The thought lodged itself somewhere deep, something warm curling in my chest before I could shove it away.

Austin must’ve sensed me watching, because he glanced over, brows raising slightly. “What?”

I blinked. “What?”

He smirked, tipping his head toward me. “You’re looking at me like you’ve got something to say.”

I exhaled, shaking my head. “Just thinking.”

Austin hummed, shifting slightly, his knee nudging mine. “Dangerous.”

I rolled my eyes.

But I was still smiling.

Barry, now fully sprawled across an armchair, groaned loudly. “Alright, I’m calling it. Game’s over, I’m old, I need food. I need sleep. I need—” He waved vaguely. “Something.”

Callum stretched, knocking his empty bottle against Anthony’s. “Yeah, yeah. Think we should feed the old man before he starts making up more rules.”

Barry shot him a lazy middle finger but didn’t argue.

People started shifting, grabbing more food, gathering in small groups around the kitchen and living room, the energy shifting into something softer, more subdued.

I stayed where I was.

Austin stayed too.

His fingers drummed against his knee for a second before, without thinking, he reached out, trailing them along the back of my hand. Just light. Just barely there.

I exhaled slowly, pressing my thumb against his, tracing along the side, mirroring the touch.

Austin watched me.

Didn’t move, didn’t smirk, didn’t turn it into a joke.

Just watched.

And maybe it should’ve felt like something fragile, like something we needed to talk about or define or pick apart.

But it didn’t.

It just felt right.

Anthony was the first to call it. He stretched with a groan, rolling his shoulders. “Alright, I’m old, and I’d like to be horizontal somewhere that isn’t Barry’s questionable furniture.”

Barry waved a lazy hand. “Fair enough. See you tomorrow, grandpa.”

Anthony flipped him off on his way out, and slowly, the rest of the night started winding down.

Barry let it go for a bit longer before finally pushing off the arm of the couch. “Right, much as I love hosting, I’d also love to sleep at some point before sunrise. Get out.”

Callum smirked. “So hospitable.”

Barry clapped him on the shoulder. “You know me, mate. The perfect host.”

People started shifting, gathering jackets and finishing off drinks, the night settling into its last stretch.

Callum had drunk more than Austin and me, but not enough to be drunk. Just enough that he was a little looser, a little more talkative. He was still mid-conversation with Nate about some film they both loved when Austin nudged my arm.

“Ready?”

I nodded, pushing up from the couch.

Callum glanced over, raising a brow. “You’re leaving together?”

Austin shot him a flat look. “Yeah, genius. We’re walking back to the same place.”

Callum hummed, like he was deeply considering that. “Right. Of course.” Then he just smiled. Not smug, not teasing—just pleased.

Outside, the air was crisp but not cold, the streetlights casting long shadows along the pavement.

The three of us walked together, Callum still talking, still riding the last edge of his buzz.

Austin walked beside me, easy, unhurried.

And then—

Without thinking, without hesitating—he reached for my hand.

Not subtle. Not some light brush of fingers. Just… there.

I glanced down, warmth blooming in my stomach as his fingers slotted between mine.

Ahead of us, Callum clocked it.

And for once, he didn’t say anything.

He just smiled again, small and knowing, before turning his attention back to the path ahead.

Callum peeled off first, stretching as he pulled out his keys. He glanced back at us once, a small smile still tugging at his lips, before shaking his head like he’d already seen enough.

I narrowed my eyes. “Not a word.”

Callum just chuckled, pushing open the door. “Night, lovebirds.”

I exhaled, shaking my head, but I couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at my lips.

And when I glanced up at Austin—yeah.

That feeling curled deeper in my chest.

Austin was already looking at me.

Not rushed, not teasing. Just watching. The kind of look that felt like being seen, like he was committing something to memory. The streetlights caught the edges of his face, the softness in his expression, the flicker of something warmer beneath it all. His thumb traced absent circles against my skin, his grip easy but firm, like letting go wasn’t even a thought.

My breath hitched.

I didn’t look away.

“Night, Cal,” I murmured, but the words barely mattered.

Because Austin was still looking at me.

And when his lips curled—just slightly, like he was fighting the urge to really smile—something in my stomach flipped.

His fingers tightened around mine, just enough for me to feel it.

Then, slowly, deliberately, he gave my hand a gentle tug, pulling me toward the door.

“Come on,” he murmured, voice low, steady.

And as we disappeared inside, his fingers still wrapped around mine, it didn’t feel like a decision at all. It felt inevitable.

Taglist:

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[marcandreyuri]

“there’s nothing to worry about” - sidgeno

thank you t! i fudged the prompt a tiny bit but i think you'll be okay with it haha

dialogue prompt meme | age gap, omegaverse, mpreg | rated E | 915 words

Sid pants as Geno fucks into him, his long cock inside of Sid's cunt, a sticky sheen of sweat over both their bodies as their skin is pressed together.

The Penguins’ breeding program coordinator said it would be best like this, face to face, scents swirling. Sid’s not in heat yet, not really, but he can feel it simmering in his blood. Sully sent them both home halfway through practice, Tanger and EK making obnoxious kissy faces behind Geno’s back as they trudged off the ice.

“Okay?” Geno asks. His accent is still so unbearably thick, only three months stateside. 

“Yeah,” Sid says and plants his feet on the bed and rolls his hips up, burying Geno deeper inside of him. It’s his second time heating with Geno, but some weird primal part of him wants to prove himself again. Wants to show the guy what fucking an omega nearly twice his age gets him.

Geno’s breath shudders and his hips lose their rhythm, fucking Sid recklessly as his scent gets stronger, a wave crashing over Sid and inching him deeper into heat.

The slick sounds of their bodies moving together fills the air, hips crashing together, the wet shine on Sid’s thighs from his cunt getting Geno messy, marking him up as Sidney’s. In turn, Geno rubs his wrists all over him—his scent gland, his puffy nipples, his wide hips. Before he got inside him, Geno nuzzled his own scent gland over Sidney’s inner thighs over and over before he ate Sid out until Sid came, thighs shaking around Geno’s head and his cock spurting onto his stomach.

Geno smells good. Not like any alphas Sidney’s ever fucked. He’s always sort of thought the compatibility filings and bloodwork of the breeding program were mostly bullshit—after all, people outside the program get pregnant all the time, so why does the NHL need to make sure pheromone profiles match before getting their players knocked up?

But after Geno got smuggled out of Russia in the cover of night and landed in Mario’s foyer, Sid understood. It wasn’t just that Geno had the best likelihood of getting him pregnant—which he did, far more than any of the other alphas the Penguins have offered up over the years, their eyes silently begging Sid to say yes to this one before Sid said no. 

It was deeper than that. Geno was his, meant to be his. He had backed the kid up against the wall right there in the foyer and scented him while Mario laughed and laughed and laughed behind them.

“Come on, alpha,” he says because he knows it gets Geno going. He’s nineteen, and that kind of bravado shit always gets into the young guys’ heads. “Knot me.”

Geno’s groan is low and needy. He might not be the best at English yet, but he knows those words.

Geno hooks his hands under Sidney’s legs and spreads him open, straining Sid’s muscles in that really delicious way. He tries to sit up, his eyes roaming over Sid’s body, but Sidney grabs him and pulls him back down.

“The coordinator said to do it like this,” Sid mumbles, ad he knows Geno didn’t totally get that, but he’s a sweet boy. He lets Sidney set the tone for basically everything they do.

Geno adjusts his hands so he can still hold Sid open as he ruts into him, pounding at his cunt until finally the perfect catch of his knot on Sidney’s rim, Sid’s muscles clamping down into place and holding Geno inside of him.

He sighs in relief as Geno comes, hopefully making a perfect little pup with Geno’s hooded eyes and tall stature and Sidney’s curls.

Geno slumps and relaxes when he finally finishes emptying into Sid, his hands coming up to play with the ends of Sidney’s hair and rub his scent absentmindedly over Sid again.

They lay together until they unknot and Geno plugs him up with the toy the coordinator told them to use during what was probably the most embarrassing conversation of Sidney’s life. Geno had to have his translator there too, which was even more embarrassing, the way her eyes kept catching Sidney’s.

“G—” he says as Geno curls up beside Sid. “What if—?”

He can’t help thinking about last heat cycle, when he started thinking about baby names and picturing Geno and their pup on the ice together, the three of them going out for ice cream after skating, only to have negative test after negative test, nothing growing inside of him. The flood of thoughts that came after, like maybe he was too picky when he was younger and now that he’s finally found the alpha he wants to mate with, it’s too late.

Geno puts his hand over Sidney’s lower stomach and kisses Sid’s jaw and scoots in even closer, until the entire length of their bodies are pressed together, down to their feet.

“Nothing to worry,” Geno says. Sid knows he’ll lose the accent someday, but he wishes he wouldn’t. He’s grown to love it, the garbled English, Geno’s furrowed brow. “I’m best, so—” Sid laughs, and Geno does too. “Make best pup for you.”

“We’re the best,” Sid says. 

“Is what I say,” Geno says, and smiles brattily.

“Sure,” Sid laughs. “Take a nap, and then we’ll go again.”

Geno nods and closes his eyes, and Sid watches him for a minute, memorizing his face, picturing it on a baby, before following him to sleep.