#james has a brother who is a dog

[made-by-moon]

Sirius Black's tattoos:

1. Moon on his ring finger

2. Leo constellation with accented regulus star over his heart

3. Deer antlers on his left wrist (covering sh scars, James was his cure) surrounded by a bunch of flowers (for Lily)

4. A lightning (for David Bowie) on his arm

5. Pawprints (3 types for Padfoot, Moony and Wormtail) and hoofprints, going from his wrist to his neck

6. Moon phases going up his spine

7. 1978 on his fingers, the year he graduated Hogwarts and was full of hope for his future with Remus

And much more buy they're less meaningful, more for fun and aesthetic.

[kyonite]

Just finished Caliban's War (the second book in the expanse series) and this book made me hate James Holden like nothing else I've ever felt. I need that Montana farm fed fuck to no longer be the solar systems most special boy. I need his girlfriend to leave him and go hook up with the hot lesbian mechanic. I need that man DEAD in the fuckin ground fr.

[ellecdc]

pleaseee can i request a potter!reader x barty where someone tries to hit on the reader and is pretty persistent when she’s with her friends (maybe remus, lily and reg because i feel like they’d all hang out) and then barty (and maybe james??) appears and acts as her scary dog privilege thank youu your writing is so amazing 💗💗

you sure can! thanks for the request (and your patience), I'm dusting off all my requests from the Spring hahaha <3

Barty Crouch Jr x Potter!reader who has a persistent admirer [731 words]

CW: slight harassment/not accepting no for an answer, quick defence by friends and brother and boyfriend, threats of violence

“This is getting embarrassing.” Lily muttered as she watched Gideon Prewett approach you the second you stepped into the library. 

You smiled politely enough at the sod, but clearly felt awkward as you spotted your friends waiting for you in the library, shooting them a look that clearly read “help”.

“- think we could go to Hogsmeade together this weekend.” The group heard the tail end of Gideon’s sentence as the two of you got closer; or, rather, you got closer and he trailed obsessively behind you.

“Erm, that’s really nice of you, Prewett, but I’m gonna have to say no thank you.”

“Come now, Potter,” he continued easily, “I know what you’re thinking; it doesn’t have to be-”

“I would quit whilst you’re ahead, Prewett.” Remus sing-songed with a smirk as Gideon pulled your chair out for you and attempted to sit on your other side.

“And just what is that supposed to mean, Lupin?” Gideon all but sneered in reply, though he did hesitate in taking the seat.

“Hasn’t she made it clear enough she’s not interested?” Lily hissed, causing Regulus to huff a laugh.

“I say leave him to it.” He drawled in a bored manner. “It’s his funeral.”

“Is that a threat, Black?” Gideon accused at the exact moment said threat walked in.

“Hey bug!” James called loudly; appearing friendly for all intents and purposes, but the well trained eye (like that of his partner’s, one of his best friend’s and roommates, and his twin sister) could easily see the tension simmering beneath his cool facade. “S’this tosser bothering you?” 

“No…” You offered carefully, clearly not convinced in your own answer as you offered Gideon an apologetic grimace. “No, I’m alright, I just-”

“What’s going on here?” Barty demanded, appearing behind you out of nowhere like some sort of deranged poltergeist as he placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and glared threateningly at your persistent admirer. 

“It’s a sodding library, Junior, what do you think is going on here?” Gideon spat.

“What I think is going on here,” Barty started severely, “is that you’re making my girl uncomfortable.” 

“Is that true, Prewett?” James queried; tone about an octave higher than normal as he threw a ‘friendly’ arm over his shoulder. “Are you making my sister uncomfortable?”

“I-”

“Because I’d hate to see what kind of trouble Junior and I could get into together should we need to team up, yeah?” He asked sweetly, and Remus nearly snorted at the way the poor sods freckles stood out in stark contrast when the blood drained from his face as he looked over at Barty who was smiling at him maniacally. 

“Jeez, alright.” Gideon tried to joke, though his laugh came out rather pitchy as he shook James’ threatening hold from his shoulder. “Message received.”

But before he could take more than two steps away, Barty had him by the collar of his shirt as he brought his face inches from his own. “Next time a lady says no thank you, that’s when your message should be received. Got it?”

Gideon simply nodded quickly, and Barty offered him a smile that didn’t meet his eyes and a patronising pat on the cheek. “Good lad.”  

The group of you watched Gideon flee the library before turning back to your table. 

“Well, that was rather anticlimactic.” Regulus complained.

“What? Was baby Black hoping for more drama?” Remus taunted, earning himself a kick in the shin from his boyfriend’s younger brother. 

“If that bloke so much as sneezes anywhere near you there will be more than enough drama for baby Black.” Barty promised as he sat in the seat Gideon had tried to occupy on your other side.

“Can we maybe not call me that?” Regulus scowled; face contorted in displeasure until James pressed a kiss to his hair.

“Just name the time and place, Junior, I’ll be there.” James agreed, and you rolled your eyes at your brother and boyfriend. 

“You boys are ridiculous.” You chided, though the fact that you were leaning your head against Barty’s shoulder as he weaselled an arm around your middle severely undermined your point. 

“Mmm, maybe.” Barty allowed as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head. “But you love it.”

And Remus knew from the shy smile gracing your lips that you did, indeed, sort of love your more than slightly ridiculous boys.

[noblehouseofgay]

Regulus who does pottery (haha POTTERy) and makes trinkets for the people he loves

One of his love languages is gift giving bc he has a hard time expressing feelings. So he gives people heartfelt things

He made pandora a jewelry holder with a tree coming out of it to hang things on

He made remus a mug with 5 (wolf, dog, stag, rat, cat) animals under a full moon

He made his brother a little motorcycle to display

He made james and himself a coaster set with suns and stars for when they live together someday

He made Evan and barty some disturbing little clay creatures who look like fucked up taxidermied monsters

And just a bunch of other shit. He loves the arts and uses his skills to try and show people he loves them

[crescenthistory]

Where Padfoot Lays His Head

Summary: Inspired by @thewriterghost's reblog of my last animagus!reader fic, this is just a sweet drabble of Whiskers comforting Padfoot:,)

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: not proofread, fem!reader, your marauders/animagus name is whiskers, walburga black, black family dynamics and trauma, vaguely implied abuse, sirius spiraling into self-loathing, platonic physical affection, romantic!regulus x reader but platonic!sirius x reader is the main focus, background platonic!moonwater

Note: this is based on the same reader from Feline Touches, Sweet Like Honey and Padfoot vs. Whiskers, sirius' beloved almost-sister-in-law that he has frequent (loving) sibling squabbles with

Sirius pretended he didn’t feel the humiliation burning through his veins from his friends’ worrying looks.

Stop looking at me, stop caring so sodding much.

His internal begging was all for naught; this was apparently what he signed up for when he strolled into the train compartment that housed the largest smile Hogwarts had ever seen and his pack of make-shift slightly-fucked-up-but-lovable friends.

Most days, Sirius was grateful to the bone for the family he had been able to assemble at Hogwarts, stretching from his boyfriend to his boyfriend’s childhood best friend to his biological brother and the boys that became his brothers. However, on days that Walburga Black, the hag to end all hags, sends him a Howler berating him for leaving home over the summer, few sentiments besides anger, self-loathing and isolation remained in the young boy’s body.

When he eventually stops reeling and wallowing, all this attention would make him feel warm once more, especially when he sees they didn’t stop showering him in it even as he retreated perhaps a bit rudely from it. Right now, though, it just kept the wound open and Sirius was sure the infection would kill him this time around.

He was sure of that every time.

It became evident quickly that he would not be able to get away from his friends. James was practically glued to his side from the moment he left the Great Hall after Walburga ruined everyone’s lunch. His brown eyes were so wide beneath his glasses and Sirius was sure he could almost see tears in them as he swung his arm around Sirius’ shoulders and kept telling jokes like his life depended on it. Remus was not much better. He had learned by now not to soften his touches when Sirius was in these moods – on the contrary, harsh, direct touches helped ground him – but his hands rarely left his being, as if he would fall apart without him. Even Lily tuned down her playful banter with him, swapping it for concerned questions and checking in on him throughout the day. Sirius loved them all, but he hated it.

Even Regulus showed him more compassion than normal, though he didn’t say much. His entire being seemed to radiate I get you, I understand more than anyone, because frankly he did. Even as hearing Walburga’s voice must have rattled Regulus too, he didn’t show it, instead holding space for Sirius, carrying what was supposed to be his burden.

Humiliating. 

All of which to say, Sirius did what Sirius does best; he ran from them all, in the one form none of them would be able to hold a conversation with him in.

Padfoot had turned out to be a blessing that way. Sirius picked up on it from you, who only ever was in your animagus form when you felt particularly well or horrifically poorly. Difficult to ask how a dog is feeling, yeah? 

He laid in front of the common room fireplace, stretched out in a position that showed he was ready to pounce should anyone try to pet him. Around him, his friends were cuddled up on the sofas and armchairs, chattering lowly amongst themselves and playing the occasional game of wizarding chess. Padfoot had his head placed on his front paws as his gaze flickered all over the room, unable to settle. His nerves always seemed to transform with him, manifesting as the most anxious dog Gryffindor had seen.

Their stares were still on him, penetrating and with downturned frowns over their faces. Stop it, stop it, stop it. He couldn’t string too long sentences together in his dog brain – part of its fantastic appeal right now – but that sentiment remained steadfast.

You were sat in Regulus’ lap opposite the fireplace, murmuring something in his ear as you both intermittently looked at Padfoot. Your hands were playing with his hair, lips almost grazing his skin as you talked, even pressing the occasional kiss to his cheek, his jaw, his ear. Love. Padfoot loved love and he loved his little brother getting to experience it so wholly, even as he laid here, destroying the moment with the same misery that hunted any children raised by the Black family. He felt as if he was sucking the joy out of the room with his wallowing, yet he couldn’t stop himself.

Padfoot couldn’t help the low whine that escaped him at the darkness swirling around inside him. Upon fearing having to meet the gazes of anyone who caught the noise and see the goddamn sympathy and pity in them, he brought his paws up to cover his eyes, pathetically hiding within himself.

Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad.

In his internal chanting, he didn’t notice when the chatter died down a bit, nor did he see the glances exchanged. He felt the footsteps reverberating through the floorboards, suggesting somebody was walking away, but he didn’t register its true implications. Leave, was all he could think. Good, leave. Go.

What he did notice to its fullest extent was when a few moments later, soft fur collided with his own as something was rubbing against him.

A bit too quickly, almost too violently, Padfoot’s head snapped up from beneath his paws to see what this intrusion was – only to come face to face with a white-and-grey cat, blinking slowly at him. His mouth fell slightly open, and he thought a complaining bark may be on its way out, but then you – Whiskers – butted your head against the side of his neck, caressing him with your feline body.

The adventures of Whiskers and Padfoot were a running joke, especially one Remus and Regulus loved to team up to tell. Whether it was chasing each other around, hunting rats – preferably Wormtail, but any would do – and mice or playing with the house elves, you two loved to conduct mischief together in the one form you could never be properly caught in. There had been the occasion where you cuddle or pet one another, but it was rare and usually unspoken, attachment growing deeper and softer without either properly addressing it. 

So, this was not necessarily out of left field, but it surprised him nonetheless. He couldn’t say it wasn’t quite welcome, though.

You had started purring as you walked up and down his body where he was laid in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth he was bathed in and oddly calming the vibrating nerves within his own body. Whenever you reached his head, you bumped your snout against his, rubbing the space between your ears all over his face.

Cats are weird, Padfoot thought. Like it.

Mere minutes ago Sirius had been surveying his friends and his effect on them intently, digging himself deeper into his self-inflicted hole. Now, his attention was captured by the much smaller animal beside him, and he didn’t see how most conversation had stopped to witness the interaction. Lily and James looked at them in almost shocked awe, both having been snapped at and ran away from when they attempted to pet Padfoot themselves. Regulus and Remus, however, sat there with soft, knowing smiles – seeing the girl they loved most go for it with no fear and comforting their favourite dog. Remus would deny it to anyone who asked, but there were tears in his eyes.

The next time Whiskers came up beside his face, you stayed there, leaning yours against his. You laid your body down over the paws Padfoot had previously rested his own head on and made yourself comfortable in a position no one but a cat could possibly conjure up. From there, you began cleaning his fur like you were his personally-assigned cat mother, licking the strands in their correct direction. When his face was too far away, you lightly brought your paw up to his snout to bring him further towards you.

Despite being placed in front of a fire, warmth didn’t truly spread through Sirius before now. When he brought his head down, he laid it on top of you and let it rest there across your midsection, careful not to hurt you, as your upper body curled around his head. You continued cleaning up his fur as you purred loudly, easing the tension from Padfoot’s poor body.

A cuddle only animals could come up with, an embrace Sirius would deny anyone today, yet like this, it just worked.

When his eyes became heavy, Sirius let them fall. You continued your ministrations without hesitation, carefully and slowly tending to Sirius face, only stopping occasionally to nuzzle your forehead further into his fur and purr even louder. 

He didn’t quite fall asleep, he rarely did as Padfoot, too alert and awake in this form, but he let himself fall into a place of tranquillity. Walburga’s harsh words seemed almost funny in their anger now, and Sirius’ own spiral was becoming a thing of the past. 

Would he still be red-cheeked tomorrow and avoid his friends’ eyes for the first half of the day? Perhaps, but they would reel him into their arms and hearts regardless. Would he sputter and fall back into his evil cycle of thoughts if anyone brought this specific moment up? Without a doubt, but that’s why they would not, at least not before he settled. 

Padfoot was suddenly safe in the Gryffindor common room. He was safe with this warm weight over his paws and beneath his head, he was safe with love being quite literally carded into every strand of fur on his body. He was safe with the hearth behind him and his pack in front of him, quiet voices further lolling him further into a state of peace.

Padfoot was safe – maybe even loved.

Across the room, Remus and Regulus had gravitated further towards one another, as theirs were the only eyes who never left the scene of cat-dog-solidarity displayed before them. 

Regulus bumped into Remus’ arm with his elbow and whispered, “He doesn’t like cats, he says?” with a knowing smirk.

The other boy huffed a laugh at that, lips remaining softly upturned. “I believe he has an exception or two to that rule.”

[stllmnstr]

champagne problems: part one

pairing: jake sim x f reader

genre: enemies to lovers, rich kids au, fake dating au, college au, angst, fluff

part one word count: 15.6k

part one warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, family drama, a fatal case of second son syndrome

soundtrack: boom - dpr live / bad idea! - girl in red / blood on the floor - kuiper / calico - dpr ian / comme de garçons (like the boys) - rina sawayama / lust - chase atlantic

note: another reupload!! hope this hopeless romantic college boyfriend jake hits just as good the second time around. happy reading ♡

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The second son of a wealthy family, Jake Sim has gotten used to always standing in the shadow of his older brother. From grades to girls to talks of becoming future CEO of the Sim Corporation, he’s no stranger to coming in second place. So when an opportunity arises for Jake to finally have the one thing his brother can’t and best him once and for all, he knows he’d be a fool not to take it.

There are only two problems. The first is that the thing his brother wants so badly isn’t a thing at all. It’s you, semi-estranged daughter of the Sims’ closest and most long-standing business partner.

The second is that Jake Sim can’t fucking stand you.

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Fingers wrapping around the stem of your wine glass, you sigh. Punctuality may have been a steep order for someone who you suspect is running dangerously low on both common sense and regard for others, but twenty minutes? Really?

Your eyes land on the obnoxiously ornate grandfather clock next to the hostess stand. In a restaurant with ceilings so high you can barely see them and a carefully curated ambience that practically screams old money, it blends right in. It also gives you an updated timeframe on your would-be date’s tardiness. 

Scratch that – thirty minutes. 

Pulling out your phone, the absence of any new notifications is almost as annoying as whatever threadbare excuse you’re sure your date will offer you when he arrives. Glancing at the door, it remains devoid of any new patrons. Or perhaps rather if he arrives. 

You’re running near empty on both pinot noir and patience, and you use the distraction of your phone to make you seem a little less pathetic. As if this entire restaurant isn’t already privy to the fact that you’re actively being stood up. 

Well, you think wryly, at least you look good doing it. The off white ensemble you selected for the evening is Chanel, and vintage, at that. Usually you wouldn’t pull out all the stops like this for something as flimsy as a first date, but men like James Sim have an eye for this kind of thing. 

Four years your senior, he’s already carving out a name for himself at twenty-five. You suppose it is a little less impressive, though, when the name he was born with already carries a legacy of its own in the business world you usually do your very best to stay out of. Rumor has it he’s already a shoo-in for the next CEO of his father’s company. When nepotism is that blatant, you can’t do much but scoff and raise a glass to it. 

Scrambling for something to do to make your wasted time pass a bit quicker, you search up the social media profile of your would-be date. Honestly, you doubt you would learn anything more substantial about him if he actually bothered to show up than you will from scanning over his feed. In your experience, men like that tend to make up for their success on paper by lacking an actual personality and any sort of self-awareness. 

Gym selfie. Scroll. Gym selfie from a slightly different angle. Scroll. Dog photo. Pausing, you suppress a small smile. The dog in the picture is pretty cute, if nothing else. Zooming in slightly, your eyes crinkle at the way the dog’s tongue lolls out of its open mouth in a grin. Well, at least he’s got that going for him, you suppose. A cute dog is enough to bump any guy’s ranking up a few points in your book. 

If James Sim is nothing but a sum of his social media profile, it’s not like you expected anything else. After all, this is the heir to the Sim Corporation, a golden boy that was born with a crown on his head and a gold spoon in his mouth. Everything he’s earned has been laid out for him in painstakingly placed steps. His entire life has been guided by a heavy hand and the knowledge that he would one day inherit everything that makes his family worth knowing. 

You probably wouldn’t be too concerned with showing up to first dates on time, either. Especially since you doubt he’s ever been denied a second. 

Tonight is nothing but a blip on a radar, you’re sure. Something for a secretary to schedule and him to notice a day or five late. Maybe if you’re lucky, someone on his team will send a consolatory bouquet once he does realize the mistake. He is still building his reputation, after all, and you could use a fresh set of flowers for your apartment. 

With another slightly pitiful sigh and a final swig of wine, your glass is empty and your optimism is shot. A second glance at the clock says that thirty-eight minutes have now elapsed since your scheduled meeting time. And in your opinion, that’s thirty-nine too late for a first date. 

Retrieving your coat from the back of your chair, you figure tonight will be remembered as nothing but a waste of a good outfit. Besides, you suppose forty minutes of aimless scrolling is ultimately less painful than the inevitable headache this date surely would have been had he bothered to actually show up. 

Suddenly, you frown. You won’t complain if this date never actually happens, but you may end up with a slight problem. Although you haven’t been on the best of terms with your mother in a long time, tonight was meant to be the final bullet point on a list of favors you owe her. 

As you pull your coat on, you consider the best way to frame the events of the evening. Lean into the whole ‘getting stood up’ thing in an effort to earn some sympathy points? Lay out the facts in their most basic form, timestamps included? Emphasize the fact that you waited long past the obligatory twenty minutes for him to actually show up? Or leave your message chain as it currently is, tell her nothing at all, and let her assume what she wants?

They’re all equally iffy, you think. Risky in their own regard. 

Signing your name at the bottom of the check, you scribble in a generous tip for the waitress who did her best to check on you often without making it obvious that she knew you were expecting company that never arrived, expertly skirting that line between overbearing and empathetic. At least someone will go home happy, you think, adding an extra zero for good measure. 

Exiting the restaurant, you decide to make it two people. James Sim may be a hotshot at his father’s company, but you’ll be damned before you let him ruin your evening. Before you order the Uber back to your place, you add an extra stop at your favorite sushi place. Takeout in the comfort of your own home will certainly be easier to enjoy than whatever Michelin-Star concoction you would have ordered here anyway, eaten in small bites between forced conversation topics, awkward pauses, and too long sips of wine. 

And an hour later, you’re polishing off the last piece of an absolutely divine rainbow roll, wearing nothing but silk pajamas and a face mask, with old reruns of your favorite show playing on the TV when James Sim finally glances down at the Rolex on his wrist. He’s finally arrived at the tail end of a meeting that’s running so far behind schedule he has half a mind to just walk out of it. He would, too, if his father wouldn’t actually threaten his life for it. 

It’s late, James realizes. Stupid late. So late that he won’t have the time or energy to do anything but pass out by the time he gets home, which really sucks, because he was genuinely looking forward to his date tonight–

“Fuck.”

All he can do is curse, even as the shocked faces of a concerning number of top executives turn to look at him all at the same time. 

…

Jake Sim is about to fail his econ midterm. 

It will be at least a week before grades are released, but he already knows it. He can already feel it in the way the questions start to swim in his mind, making less and less sense the more he turns them over, in the way his gut fills with dread as the minute hand of the clock at the front of the lecture hall ticks closer and closer to the testing time limit. 

And it wouldn’t be that bad, if it weren’t his second time repeating this course. 

Oh, his father is going to have an absolute field day with this one. Jake can practically hear it now. 

“You failed your midterm? After already failing this course twice? You know, James was actually the top scoring student in his economic section. Dr. Jeong still mentions his term paper every time I see him at the university…”

And that’s if he’s in a good mood. Or rather, if things at the company are going well. Jake doesn’t even want to consider the comments he’ll be on the receiving end of if the news of his failure finds his father already agitated. 

Exhaling, he gives his exam one final once-over, scanning for completion more than accuracy. His brain is so fried that he knows it’s of little use to him now. For his own sake, the best thing to do at this point is turn his test in and send a silent prayer to whoever might be listening on his way out the door. 

Leaving the lecture hall behind him, Jake puts his phone out of airplane mode and frowns at the two notifications that pop up on his screen. The first is a missed call from his brother, and the second is a message from the same sender, requesting that he give him a call when he has the chance. 

Considering that it’s neither his birthday nor a major holiday, Jake is more than a little confused. Regardless, he honors the request, pressing his phone to his ear as he begins the walk back to his apartment. Although it’s significantly less spacious than his childhood home, he finds it far more welcoming in more ways than one. 

The outgoing call rings once, twice, three times. Jake is about to be annoyed at the missed connection, but his brother answers in the moments just before he’s sent to voicemail.

“Hey, Jake.” Shocking. He actually bothered to check the caller ID. 

“Hey.” Jake’s voice is careful, guarded. It’s not like his personal life is of any importance to his older brother, but he’s not in the mood to answer any questions. He won’t give James any reasons to ask. “I saw your message.”

“Right.” Jake can hear the shuffle of other voices, scattered movements coming from the other line. James sounds busy. Just like always. Usually, that would usually mean he’s distracted. But Jake has the odd feeling that he has his brother’s undivided attention when James adds, “I have a favor to ask you.”

Immediately, Jake’s stomach drops. There are very few things in this world that are not within James Sim’s grasp, and even less that are within Jake’s, relatively speaking. Whatever it is, he must be desperate, if he’s willing to enlist the help of his little brother. 

“Okay.” Jake’s voice betrays none of his sudden anxieties. “What is it?”

At least James spares him the agony of suspense. “You know ___, right?”

Jake frowns. Sure, he knows of you. Just like he has a vague idea of every one of his family’s business partners and their immediate kin. Particularly the ones that are the same age as him and attend the same university. But it’s not like he’s close with you, not like he’s ever had an actual conversation of any substance with you. 

Especially since the minimal interactions the two of you have had did not leave Jake wanting more. The only child of parents whose last name is on the front of the most successful law firm within a thousand mile radius, you strike him as everything he’d expect you to be. 

Spoiled. Entitled. Vapid. Out of touch with any version of reality that doesn’t consist of you getting everything you want at the exact moment you want it. He supposes it’s a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, considering his own upbringing, but he’d like to think that he’s earned what he’s been given, at least partially. Especially since most of it has been his brother’s hand-me-downs.  And it’s not like his father has ever been in the habit of doing him any favors that don’t come wrapped in criticism, comparison, and disdain.

Although rumor does have it you and your mother haven’t been on speaking terms since you left for university, Jake imagines it’s probably because you wanted to bring the limited edition Versace to campus with you, and she insisted it would be safer at home. 

Oh, well. Whatever designer dispute happened between you and your mother is no skin off his back. Jake has his own problems to worry about. 

One of them being his brother’s question that still lingers on the other line. 

Weighing responses in his head, Jake finally settles on, “I guess.” It’s his best attempt at being noncommittal. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t do anything to dissuade his brother. “Do you have her number by chance? My secretary should have taken it down, but she can’t find it anywhere.”

Jake balks, footsteps faltering. An equally distracted student walking behind him nearly stumbles right into his back. Wordlessly, Jake sends them an apologetic look before clarifying, “Her number? Like, her personal phone number?”

“What other kind of number is there?” And there’s the James that Jake knows. Annoyed at the perceived incompetencies of his younger brother, just as always. 

Suddenly, Jake’s patience is running short too. James is the one asking for a favor and still has the gall to be annoyed with him. Typical. Jake’s words are clipped when he says, “No, I don’t have ___’s phone number.” 

Jake expects that to be the end of it, but his brother won’t let it go so easily. 

“Seriously? Don’t you two go to the same school?”

Jake rolls his eyes. “Right, because I have the entire student body on speed dial.”

There’s a pause on the other end. Jake half expects his brother to just hang up on him. After all, he’s never been able to take what he gets, to swallow what he dishes out. 

What Jake does not expect, however, is the way James sounds so tentative when he speaks again.  “Well…”

“Well what?” Patience already running thin, it’s all he can do not to snap. 

“Do you think you could get it for me?”

Jake must be dreaming. This must be a post-exam punishment, a hallucination brought on by over exerting his brain too far for too long. “Do I think I could get ___’s phone number for you?” he repeats flatly. 

“Is there an echo in here?” Asshole. At least he’s consistent. 

“Just an echo chamber,” Jake mutters away from the receiver. 

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Jake stops for a moment to fiddle with his keyring as he walks up the stairs to his apartment. “No, I can’t get her phone number for you.” 

“Why not?”

The key won’t line up quite right. Jake tries again, frustration seeping through. “Because I have better things to do than run stupid errands for you. Why don’t you drive here and get it yourself?”

“Trust me, if I thought she’d give it to me, I’d be there in an hour.”

The lock on his door finally clicks open, and Jake all but throws his bag down after kicking off his shoes. “And what the hell makes you think she’d give it to me?”

“Well, you didn’t accidentally stand her up, for one.” James doesn’t sound embarrassed by it. Just matter-of-fact. Like a date is nothing but a business deal. Something to be rescheduled and redone if negotiations go sour the first time around. 

It is enough to stir up some of Jake’s curiosity, though. “You went on a date with ___?” He supposes it makes sense. Even if the rumor mill and its rumblings about your rocky relationship with your mother ring true, you’re still your parents’ daughter. Still a perfect match on paper for the future CEO of the Sim Corporation. The king of a company and princess of a law firm. It’s a match made in heaven, he thinks ruefully. 

“No, I didn’t. That’s kind of the whole point here.”

“Whatever.” Jake still doesn’t see what the hell he has to do with all this. “Why don’t you just look up her parents’ number in the company database and get it from them?”

Jake can practically feel his brother’s exasperation through the phone. “Right, because that would go over really well. Hi there," he imitates. “I’d like to make your daughter the mother of my future children. Care to pass along her phone number so I can get started on that?”

Jake suppresses a wince. “Jesus. I see why she stood you up.”

“She didn’t. I stood her up,” James clarifies. “On accident.”

Semantics. And not ones that Jake is interested in. “Either way. I’m not getting her number for you.”

“Yeah?” Jake is unsettled by the way there’s still no trace of defeat in his brother’s voice. There’s something almost sinister when he suddenly switches topics. “How are classes going?”

Jake’s lips pull into a taut line, disaster of an econ midterm still fresh on his mind. “Fine.”

“Really? Even econ? Third time’s the charm and all that?” Well, at least his brother can be counted on to consistently be an asshole.

“Why do you care?” The only thing Jake wants to do is end this call and crawl into bed for a well-deserved afternoon nap. Let his subconscious spare him from thoughts of his older brother and econ and you for at least a little bit. 

James has other plans. “You must have taken the midterm recently, right?” Jake’s silence is confirmation enough. “You know, the only thing Dr. Jeong weighs more heavily than the midterm is the final paper at the end of the semester.”

A minute ago, Jake thought you were the last thing he wanted to talk about. The sudden shift in direction in this conversation is starting to prove him wrong. If there’s one thing Jake would rather discuss even less than his older brother’s dating life, it’s school. “What does that have to do with a–”

“And I think I still have my copy of the paper that earned me the top score in my entire section.” The smugness is practically palpable. “I might have to do some digging, but I’m sure it’s in my old files somewhere.”

Jake rolls his eyes, wishes the immediate comparison weren’t the first thing to rise to the forefront of his mind. Wishes it didn’t find him so lacking. Wishes it wasn’t narrated in the voice of his disappointed father. “If you’re trying to gloat, it’s n–”

“I’m trying to strike a deal. Jesus, no wonder you’re on track to be a super senior getting a business degree.”

“This is my third year,” Jake defends indignantly. 

“And your third attempt at econ, which I passed in my first year.” He sounds like he’s settling a little too well into the CEO role when he proposes, “I’m trying to make it your last attempt.” 

Jake would be lying if he said his curiosity weren’t piqued, even just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying, little brother, that my term paper, my notes, all of it, are yours.” It sounds too good to be true. It has to be too good to be true. James is a lot of things, but generous and helpful are very rarely any of them. “As soon as you get me ___’s number.” And there it is. 

Jake hangs up without bothering to dignify that with a response and hopes it sends a strong enough signal of his refusal. Then, he falls into his bed face-first with a groan. 

And a week later, when his econ midterm results are finally posted, the first thing Jake does is let his head fall on his desk with an alarmingly loud thud that has Jay poking his head in the door to make sure everything’s okay. The second thing he does, a solid twenty minutes later, is send his older brother a text. 

Jake [7:21pm]: You better start digging through those old files. 

…

All things considered, you’re easier to track down than Jake expects. The university campus is big, and judging from the way he can’t remember ever seeing you in a class, the two of you don’t share a major. But the similarities in your social status mean you’re bound to run in some of the same circles, and Jake is able to use this to his advantage. 

Ultimately, it takes very little digging on his part. First, he mentions your name to Jay in the middle of an upper body superset in the university gym. Jay frowns, setting the weights back on the rack. 

“That name sounds familiar. I think maybe Heeseung knows her?”

That tidbit takes him to Wednesday night, which always finds Jake in the library at a statistics study group Heeseung also makes a habit of attending. On their way out for the evening, Jake stops him by the door. 

“___?” Heeseung pauses for a moment in contemplation. “I’m pretty sure she’s friends with Sunghoon.”

And the third piece of the puzzle proves a bit more difficult to click into place. Sunghoon is harder for Jake to find, at least in a way that comes across naturally. Much like yours, Park Sunghoon is a name Jake hears in passing more than anything. He’s a friend of friends, a mutual acquaintance that Jake has never really had a conversation with and certainly doesn’t know well enough to interrogate for your phone number. 

But his most recent midterm score is still looming over his head, and the thought of retaking econ again is so nightmarish it sends a shiver down his spine  every time he considers it. At this point, there isn’t much Jake wouldn’t put on the line to pass the damn class. Including his pride, apparently. 

So when Jake hears from Jay who hears from Heeseung that Sunghoon will probably be at the party Epsilon Nu Eta is throwing this Friday night, he starts to formulate a plan. 

And he starts to regret said plan less than twenty-four hours later when he finds himself on the doorstep of a frat party. A frat party. He can’t remember the last time he came to one of these things. At twenty-one, he already feels geriatric as he tugs self-consciously at the sleeves of the plan black long sleeve he put on for the occasion. Something that will hopefully hide the questionable stains he’ll inevitably leave with. 

Entering through the front door with hinges that don’t align quite right, Jake has one mission in mind: find Park Sunghoon. Find him and somehow convince him to pass along your number. There’s a fine line to be walked there, Jake thinks. If he comes across as too eager, it will just be creepy. Nonchalance is the name of the game, but he’s never been good at keeping his cards close to his chest. 

For Jake, it’s a tall order, which means the only detour he’ll allow himself is grabbing a cup of lukewarm beer from the kitchen before he sets out looking for Sunghoon. The alcohol is an effort to break the barrier of his inhibitions more than anything. To make what he’s about to do feel a little less painful. 

Making his way out of the kitchen, Jake wanders aimlessly for a few minutes. He doesn’t know much about Sunghoon, other than the fact that he competes for your university’s figure skating team and is undeniably handsome. A good-looking figure skater, Jake thinks as he turns down yet another crowded hallway, narrowly avoiding spilling his drink. Where would one of those be hiding? 

He spends a few more awkward minutes asking around to no avail. Just when he���s on the verge of saying fuck it and making some sort of sacrifice to the econ gods instead, Jake bumps into the man of the hour on his way to the bathroom. 

In the chaos, Jake doesn’t recognize him until it’s almost too late. “Hey,” Jake calls out, bladder all but forgotten for now. He’s trying to fake an air of coolness when he adds, “Sunghoon, right?”

“Yeah.” Jake thanks his lucky stars that Sunghoon must be at least two drinks in, because he doesn’t seem weirded out at all by the sudden question from a near stranger. 

“I’m Jake.” He reaches his arm out for a handshake. Blinking, Sunghoon just stares at his outstretched hand as long, awkward moments bleed into each other. Eventually, Jake just lets it fall back to his side. “I’m, uh, in a statistics class with Heeseung.”

“Right on,” Sunghoon nods, still unsure if this conversation has a point to it. Luckily, the pleasant haze clouding his thoughts means he doesn’t mind too much either way. 

Jake figures there’s no point in dragging this out by exchanging more pleasantries, and he has the feeling Sunghoon might start forgetting his own name, much less yours, if he lets this continue for too long. 

“Listen,” Jake starts, trying to sound as not creepy as possible. “I heard that you know ___ pretty well.”

Sunghoon just shrugs. Jake can’t tell if he’s succeeded. “You could say that.”

“I know this is a strange request, but, uh,” Jake scratches the side of his head, “is there any chance I could get her number? I promise not to do anything weird.” Word vomiting, the extra details are spilling out before he can stop them. “It’s not even for me, actually–”

Sunghoon spares him the rest of a rambling explanation. “Sorry, bud. No can do.”

Jake’s stomach tightens in panic. He really, really just needs your phone number. It has him forgetting his earlier inhibitions, throwing caution to the wind even if he’s making a bit of a fool of himself in the process. “It’s for something important, actually. I’m kind of desperate–”

Sunghoon just puts a consolatory hand on Jake’s shoulder, interrupting his train of thought. “Look, man, it’s nothing against you personally, but I have literally never met you in my life. Besides, if I gave out ___’s number to every random guy that asked, I’m pretty sure she’d shave my head.” Sunghoon leans in close, like he’s about to share a secret. Jake’s nose twists at the scent of alcohol on his breath. “And between you and me, I don’t think I could pull off being bald.” 

Jake kind of begs to differ, but that’s neither here nor there. He opens his mouth to plead his case again, but Sunghoon doesn’t even let him get a word out. 

“Sorry, man, but I really can’t help you.” Pausing for a moment, he considers. “You said your name was Jacob, though, right?” He doesn’t pause long enough for Jake to correct him. “I could ask her if she’s cool with giving you her number–”

“Whose number are you giving out?” And if Jake thought this conversation wasn’t enough of a train wreck already, trust the timing of your entrance to be more disastrous than divine. 

Eyes turning to you and your sudden intrusion on the conversation, Jake’s mind goes blank for a minute.  And yeah, he kinda gets why his brother’s so hellbent on having a second chance at your time. Dressed in all black, your hair is loose around your face. Even though it likely costs more than most people’s monthly paycheck, there’s nothing inherently special about what you’re wearing. Still, Jake is finding it exceedingly difficult to look away. 

It’s something in your aura, he thinks. In the way you carry yourself. Something that money can’t buy. Something that makes his gaze want to linger. 

“___!” Sunghoon grins, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, wobbling slightly. You jostle at the sudden impact, inching away from where the contents of his cup slosh dangerously close to the rim. “What a coincidence. We were just talking about you.”

Your brow creases in confusion. Jake tracks the miniscule movement with parted lips. 

“You were?”

“Yeah,” Sunghoon confirms, just at the same moment Jake shakes his head, “No.”

Turning your mildly concerned gaze away from your friend, you glance at Jake for the first time. Brow furrowing further, you cock your head to the side as your lips part in partial recognition. He looks oddly familiar, but you can’t quite place him. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Jake shakes his head again, a little too fervently. “I don’t think we’ve ever met. At least not properly.”

It’s an odd way of putting it. You’re about to ask him to clarify when Sunghoon cuts in, clearing up the confusion for you. “It’s Jacob,” he says, as if that should mean anything to you. Turning back to the boy across from him, he adds, “Jacob Sim, right?”

And that clicks things into place.  

“Sim?” you echo, realization dawning on your features.

“Yep,” Sunghoon confirms. 

Across from you, Jake says nothing. He doesn’t think he could if he wanted to. In fact, he’s pretty sure his life is flashing before his eyes. 

“Sim,” you repeat one final time, jaw ticking in agitation as everything starts to settle. “I do know you.”

“Oh, really?” Sunghoon asks at your side, oblivious to the way your tone betrays obvious animosity. A distaste so palpable Jake can practically feel it radiating off of you. Turning back to Jake, he’s apologetic. “Sorry, Jacob. I guess I could have given you her number, then.” Sunghoon smiles sheepishly, as if he hasn’t just made things a million times worse. “My bad.”

Jake’s eyes widen in horror as he scrambles for some sort of defense, an explanation that will dig him out of this rapidly deepening hole, but you beat him to it. 

“My number?” The look you give him has a concerning amount of venom in it. “Seriously? God, why are all you Sim men so obsessed with me?”

“That’s not–” 

“First your brother views my LinkedIn profile twenty-three times after standing me up, and now you’re harassing my friends for my phone number?”

“Hold on. I’m not harassing anyone–”

“No,” Sunghoon agrees, nodding diplomatically. “Jacob was perfectly pleasant–”

“It’s Jake, actually.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, just Jake.”

“Sorry,” Sunghoon apologizes. Turning to you, he tries mediating again. “Well, like I said, just Jake was perfectly pleasant–”

“I don’t care how pleasant he is.” Your glare somehow becomes icier. “Leave me alone, and tell your dickhead brother to do the same.” Muttering to yourself more than anything, you add, “The last thing I need right now is you practically stalking me–”

“Stalking you?” Jake flounders, an edge of annoyance creeping into his tone. He’s not surprised to learn that you really do think the world revolves around you, but really? Stalking?  “Don’t flatter yourself. It’s not like I’m enjoying this interaction any more than you are.”

You don’t back down, crossing your arms over your chest. The movement has Sunghoon teetering dangerously where he leans on you, but you pay him no mind, attention focused solely on the man in front of you. “Then why do you want my phone number so bad?”

“Like I was trying to say earlier when you wouldn’t let me get a word out sideways,” Jake bites, “it’s not for me. I made a deal with someone, and I told them I’d give them your number.”

Your gaze narrows. “Who?”

“What?”

“Who did you make a deal with?”

Jake hesitates, knowing how the truth will sound. Screw it – a lie would likely be just as damning. Still, it takes him another pregnant pause to eventually admit, “... My brother.”

Scoffing in disbelief, you double down on your ire. “Absolutely not.” Shaking Sunghoon off your shoulder, you turn to leave, dragging him with you. Jake’s eyes close; he can’t bear to watch his last chance at passing this semester leave him in the dust.  

So much so that he pleads again, “Wait, ___. Please.” Jake is begging now, and he feels a little pathetic for it. Still, he can’t help the way desperation drives him to continue. “You can block him for all I care. I can’t explain everything, but my life is quite literally in your hands right now. I just need–”

“No.” The single syllable vibrates with finality. “Do I have to spell it for you? N-” you bite, enunciating so sharply Jake thinks you might draw blood. “O. No. I’m not giving my number to you or your flake of  a brother or anyone else that so much as looks like they might have the name Sim.”

God, is the only think Jake can think as he miserably watches your retreating figure, Sunghoon stumbling along  as you drag him with you. I am so fucked. 

…

When Sunghoon finally emerges from your guest bedroom an hour before noon the next day, it’s to ask if you’d be kind enough to spare him some Advil. Even with a bad case of bedhead and the aftermath of overconsumption, he still manages to look good, albeit a little lifeless. 

“I’ll do you one better,” you tell him, but reach for the small white bottle anyway, shaking out a few tablets and offering them to your best friend along with a glass of cold water.

“Bagels and coffee?” Sunghoon asks over the rim of his glass, with a little more alertness in his eyes than there was moments before. 

“Bagels and coffee,” you confirm. A tried and true hangover cure, if there ever was one. And even though your head is feeling nice and clear, thanks to your trusty two drink limit that has yet to fail you, the local cafe a block from your apartment is very rarely something you turn down. 

Thirty minutes later and a change of clothes later, the two of you are trading gossip and stealing bites of each other’s orders when the other person isn’t looking at the table in the back corner of the cafe. Sunghoon is just about to stuff another piece of your bagel in his mouth when he notices yet another notification light up the screen of your phone. 

Sunghoon nods towards where it rests on the table, bagel suddenly forgotten. “Is that your mom again?”

“Yep.” Your lips stretch thin. You don’t even need to glance down at your phone to confirm. She’s been blowing up your notifications all weekend.  “She’s been on my ass about the upcoming fundraiser event for days now. And reminding me about the utmost importance of bringing an appropriate plus-one.”

Across from you, Sunghoon straightens his shoulders. “I suppose it is about time I bust out the trusty old prom suit again.”

You sigh, sending your half-eaten bagel a forlorn glance. “I wish. She told me if I ever bring you again, I lose half my trust fund.”

“What?” Sunghoon looks affronted. “Why?”

You level him with a look. “Does soap ring a bell?”

Sunghoon splutters in indignation. “That was one time,” he defends. “And anyone would have thought those were edible! They were shaped like candies, and they were on a platter–”

“Soap presentation aside, I don’t think that excuse will work on her.” The dejection in your voice is apparent. “Besides, she’s already made it very clear that you’re explicitly forbidden from attending any future family events as my plus-one.”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon grumbles. “Keep all your stupid inedible soaps.” Pausing for a moment, he realizes that still leaves a giant question hanging in the air. “Who are you gonna bring, then? You know, it kind of is too bad your date with Sim number one didn’t pan out.”

You shrug, pointedly ignoring the way your phone screen lights up yet again. It really is a bit of a shame James turned out to be an unreliable flake. One that still hasn’t bothered to apologize to you or even give any sort of indication that he remembered your scheduled date. Still, you can’t think of anyone that would earn your mother’s approval faster. “I’ll probably just fake a stomach flu.” After all, you’re kind of out of options. “I thought about asking Jungwon, but he’s got stuff going on for his internship that night. A big economics conference or something.”

“Speaking of economics,” Sunghoon leans in conspiratorially. “I think I might have some intel on our new friend from last night.”

“How was economics the segue you went with? We were literally just talking about his older brother.” Giving him a look of disbelief, you add, “And what about that interaction gave you the impression that we’re friends?”

“Whatever,” Sunghoon brushes you off before he continues, “Anyway, I heard from Heeseung who heard from Jay that apparently little Sim is hot garbage at economics. Rumor has it he’s already failed the class twice and is on track to do it again.”

You’re not sure why he’s deemed this information relevant to you, but you’d be lying if you said it weren’t a little amusing. 

“Really? Jungwon’s taking it now too, and he said that he sleeps through half the lectures and is still pulling an A.”

Sunghoon rolls his eyes. “Well, we can’t all be prodigies.”

Your lips flatten. “Pretty sure you don’t have to be a prodigy to not fail an entry level course three times.”

“Hey, cut him some slack,” Sunghoon argues. “He’s only failed it twice as of now.”

You scoff, entirely uninterested in the gory details of Jake Sim’s academic failures. “Whatever.”

“Either way,” Sunghoon says, “Jay told Heeseung who told me that’s why he’s so desperate for your number.” Confusion makes itself known on your features. You still don’t see the connection until Sunghoon adds, “Apparently he made some sort of deal with his brother that if he gets him your phone number, he’ll help him pass econ.”

A beat of silence passes between you. The barista at the counter calls out a customer’s name. It’s all you can do to not let your jaw physically drop open, mostly because–

“That is probably the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard in my life.” Glaring at Sunghoon, you can’t believe the theatrics of it all. “How many times have I told you to stop believing everything Heeseung says?”

“Technically, Jay said it,” Sunghoon corrects. “And I don’t know... It kind of makes sense when you think about it.”

You beg to differ. “It absolutely does not. What is this, middle school? Are we passing notes behind the teacher’s back and making our friends ask our crushes if they like us back?” It’s ridiculous. Absolutely, utterly ridiculous. 

There is no way. Absolutely no way that James Sim, heir to a multimillion dollar company, is wasting his time giving his little brother an economics cheat sheet in exchange for your phone number. 

Sunghoon raises his hands in mock surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I just thought you might be curious.”

And you hate to admit it, but you kind of are. Even though every ounce of logic you’ve accumulated in twenty-one years of life tells you that Heeseung is a notorious gossip whose stories are just as much fiction as reality and your best friend is no better. Even though the whole thing makes absolutely no sense at all. 

Even though you repeat it to yourself over and over for the rest of the day, that damn curiosity is still there. Pestering you and disturbing your sleep and leaving you wondering if maybe, just maybe, some things are entirely too ridiculous to be anything but true. 

…

On Wednesday night, Jake and Heeseung are in the middle of a particularly brutal probability set when a sudden shadow looms over their favorite corner table on the third floor of the library. 

Glancing up, Jake finds Heeseung’s gaze already trained somewhere over his shoulder. Jake can’t quite tell if the look on his face is confusion or terror. 

“Mind if I join?” The request comes from behind him, posed in an oddly familiar voice. Heeseung is nodding in agreement before Jake has the chance to so much as turn around and identify the intruder. 

All is revealed soon enough, though, when you slide down into the seat next to him, ignoring the way Heeseung scrambles to move his things and make room for you in the seat next to him. Instead, you busy yourself with setting your bag on the floor and pulling out your laptop. 

It’s all Jake can do to stare at you blankly. This evening, you’ve traded the all black outfit from the other night’s party for something a bit more casual, something comfortable that blends in better to the background of a university library. The sudden proximity also means that the scent of your perfume is quick to waft over towards him. 

Jake does his best to hold his breath before his brain can trick him into thinking he likes it. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” A bold request for someone who just hijacked a study session and sat down with no explanation, but Jake wouldn’t expect anything less from you. 

“Like what?” The words are out before he gives them permission. Across the table, Heeseung is staring too, but all three of you know the command isn’t for him. 

“I don’t know.” Glancing at the battery bar hovering just above empty, you dig around in your bag for a moment for your laptop charger. Jake notes that you still have yet to look at him. Instead, you begin to busy yourself with typing something on your computer. “Just stop it.”

He hopes you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into the side of your head as his blank stare shifts into a glare. 

Heeseung glances between the two of you. His outburst is sudden. “Oh! I just remembered.” He hits his head for good measure. The acting is wasted on this audience, though. Neither of you pay him any mind or even bother to glance in his direction. “I have to go, uh…” he trails off, finishing lamely with a rather flat, “somewhere else.”

“Great.” Your eyes don’t leave your screen, fingers still flying on your keyboard. “See you later.”

As Heeseung scrambles to pack up his unfinished statistics homework and high tail it out of the library, the air that has suddenly become stifling, Jake glances down at where your fingers are still moving. 

Distractedly, he wonders how you can type so fast with nails that long, how you never seem to need the backspace key. How none of the pastel pink that coats your fingernails seems to be so much as chipped. A projection of perfection, he thinks, down to every last detail.  

Moments pass, neither of you saying anything.

You still haven’t looked at him by the time you do eventually break the impasse. “I heard you suck at econ.”

And Jake actually cannot believe you. “Did you seriously hunt me down just to rub it in?”

“Rub it in?” That at least earns him some of your attention, even if it is just a brief, confused glance as your fingers pause in their typing. “It’s not like I’m the reason you can’t pass.”

“Believe it or not, you quite literally are.”

You sigh, removing your hands from your keyboard entirely. Then, before he can blink, you spin your entire body in your chair, eyes, shoulders, and knees all directly trained on him. Jake can’t help the way he flinches back a few inches at the sudden change in pace. 

“Look,” you start. He can already tell by the way you wrap the single syllable sound in patronization that he’s not going to appreciate whatever you’re about to say. “I can tell that you’re not used to, like, having conversations with people, but usually what happens is you give someone enough information so that they know what you’re talking about.” He’s right. 

And he’s quick to defend himself. “Maybe I could, if you’d let me get three words out without interr–”

But you’ve moved on already. “Is the whole ‘deal with your brother’ thing true?”

Jake lets the silence linger for a moment, looking at you in disbelief. “You literally just proved my point.”

You roll your eyes. “I knew what you were going to say, so I sped things along. Now answer my question.” You lay it out for him again. This time, even more directly. “Did you try to get my number because of some deal you made with your brother?”

He’s not sure why it sounds so ridiculous, narrated back to him in your voice. It’s not like it was a brilliant, foolproof plan to begin with, but the way you present it has him feeling about five inches tall. 

“I…”

“It’s a yes or no question.” You really don’t beat around the bush, he thinks. 

“Yes, okay?”

Looking behind you, you suddenly lean in a little closer. It’s all Jake can do not to flinch back again. Bringing your hand up to cup your mouth, it’s like you’re about to divulge a terrible secret when you whisper, “You’re that bad at econ?”

Jake just sighs. “Worse, probably.”

Frowning, you pull back a few inches. “Aren’t you a business major? Isn’t econ, like, pretty important for you?” If he were thinking clearly, Jake might wonder how you know that. But that only thing his mind has space for right now is annoyance. At you, at this exchange, at the way you so easily pick through his flaws and seem to have no problem laying them bare at his feet like he doesn't already know them intimately.

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I got any say in my major,” Jake counters. He might have more patience for this conversation if he were having it with anyone but you, if you weren’t throwing his own insecurities back in his face with every follow-up question.

At that, something flickers through your eyes. Sympathy, maybe. “Fair enough.” Whatever it is, it’s gone before he can identify it. And it’s not enough to make you pull your punches. “Still though, that’s probably the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.” Jake doesn’t need the reminder. “Just get a tutor like everyone else.”

The thing is, Jake has thought about it. On more than one occasion. He’s even gotten so far as filling out the university tutor request form. He just could never quite bring himself to complete the ‘Name’ field without all of the potential consequences forcing him to hit backspace. 

He might not be his brother, but he’s not stupid enough to think that his family would ever be okay with the Sim name anywhere near a tutor form. He tells you as much. “And listen to my dad tell me how much of a disappointment I am for not being able to even take a class on my own?” Jake laughs humorlessly. “No thanks.”

A beat passes. Two. You’re not done yet, but you at least have the decency to sound a little apologetic, a little tentative when you say, “Not to kick you while you’re down or anything, but I mean, that has to be better than failing twice.”

Jake just shakes his head. “You don’t know my father.”

You shrug but don’t press the matter further. Truth be told, you don’t know his father, but you do know fathers like him. You have one of your own. The third floor of the library doesn’t seem like the place for that conversation, though, even if you’ve already uncovered more than your fair share of each other’s secrets in the last ten minutes. “I guess not.”

…

Your phone is buzzing far too incessantly for a Saturday morning, much less this early on a Saturday morning. Internally, you curse Friday night you, who forgot to switch it into do not disturb before falling asleep. Face still buried in your pillow, you reach around your nightstand blindly with the intention of remedying that particular mistake and enjoying a few more moments of peace.

Before you can make good on your plan, you make the fatal mistake of reading the message preview before silencing your phone. And suddenly, to your neverending annoyance, you’re wide awake. 

Mom [7:36 am]: Looking forward to seeing you next Saturday at the fundraiser. 

Mom [7:37 am]: I also noticed that you haven’t indicated who you’ll be bringing yet. Please fill out the RSVP form when you have a moment. 

Mom [7:45 am]: James Sim hasn’t RSVP’d yet. Are you bringing him? You should invite him if you haven’t already.

Mom [7:53 am]: I also never heard the update after your date a few weeks ago. Hoping no news is good news. I just spoke with his father the other day, and it sounds like he’s doing great things over at their company. 

Mom [8:01 am]: I also heard that he volunteered a few summers ago rebuilding turtle habitats. Wow! I think you two would get along very well.

Groaning, you flip your phone back over. That about sums up how well she knows her only daughter, you think ruefully. If she thought wooing you with turtles was a good idea, she must have forgotten that you’ve had a lingering phobia of the freaky little reptiles since your friend from elementary school had a pet turtle that bit your finger when you were at her house. 

Besides, you have serious doubts that’s actually how James Sim spent his last summer in university. 

If memories from your social media scrolling serve correctly, rebuilding turtle habitats was code for partying on a yacht for a month straight. You don’t care how he spends his free time, but the way he already has your mother wrapped around his stupid finger is enough to annoy any lingering sleepiness out of your system. 

Whatever. James Sim’s white lies are the least of your concerns now, and they certainly won’t solve your problems. If anything, you’re starting to regret not telling your mother anything about your failed attempt at a first date with him. Now, trying to explain that disaster of an evening would only sound like an excuse at best and a flimsy lie at worst. 

And even if she did believe you, you still have the glaring issue of next Saturday and your lack of a pre-approved plus-one.

With one final groan, you pull your blanket over your face, trying and failing to banish any thoughts of your mother, James Sim, and the certain disaster next weekend will be. 

Despite your best efforts, your worries linger. They follow you into Sunday; they start to make you desperate on Monday. With a diminishing handful of days left until the fundraiser, your anxiety only surges. 

By the time Wednesday rolls around, you’re so stressed out that you can barely force your eyes to focus on the nearly blank Word document in front of you, all of the legalese and case details you can usually sort through in your sleep jumbling into one incomprehensible blob. 

Halfway through your third reread of a paragraph that details the basics of copyright law, it strikes you. The seedling of an idea so utterly ridiculous it just might be your saving grace.  

Your mother probably, definitely, couldn’t care less about James Sim’s so-called affinity for wildlife rescue. No, the only thing that makes him an appropriate candidate in her eyes for this Saturday has nothing to do with his personality at all. 

It’s his name that she likes. His family name specifically. 

In the middle of your favorite cafe, it hits you. The seedling of an idea sprouts roots, begins to bloom. 

If one Sim is good enough to be your plus-one, then surely the other one would be too. 

And you know exactly where he’ll be tonight. Glancing down at the time on your phone, you force your brain to think. Now, all you need is a plan. A way to convince him. Something he can’t refuse.  

Closing the lid of your laptop, you smile. You know exactly what it is he wants. 

Before you leave the cafe, you send a quick message to a friend. Set your plan in place so that the details are polished, irrefutable when you present it to him.

And then you set out for the university library. 

When you find Jake and Heeseung sitting at the same exact table on the third floor of the library, Heeseung doesn’t even bother to stick around for the customary greetings. Instead, he takes one single look at you before offering another flimsy excuse about having somewhere to be. Or maybe something to do. You can’t remember, and it doesn’t really matter. 

After all, the only reason you’re here is because–

“I have a way for you to pass econ.” Sliding into the seat next to Jake, the same one you sat in last time, you don’t waste any time before divulging the reason for your presence. 

If Jake is startled, he doesn’t show it. Statistics homework forgotten on the table, the only thing you see on his face is pure, obvious relief as his shoulders relax. 

“Thank god.” Reaching for his phone, he unlocks it, tapping and swiping until he’s ready to enter a new contact. “Give me your number, and I’ll–”

You shake your head, interrupting his train of thoughts. The way you smile makes him suddenly uneasy. He thought this was over, but now he’s not so sure. You confirm his fears when you say, “A different way.”

Now Jake just looks exasperated. If you keep up this habit, he’s about to start failing statistics too. Never mind the fact that he got his hopes up for what he is sure will turn out to be a giant pile of nothing. Still, he humors you. “What do you mean, a different way?”

“I mean,” you start, folding your hands across your lap. Jake has the distinct impression that you’re trying your best to be as convincing as possible. If nothing else, it does pique his curiosity. He’s never seen you be anything but annoyed or uninterested. It’s an interesting change of pace.“I have a friend who’s also taking econ right now and hasn’t scored below a 98 on a single assignment.” Jesus, Jake thinks. Must be nice. 

And then you drop the bomb on him. “He said he’s more than willing to tutor you. For money, of course.” you specify, moving on so quickly he hardly has the chance to process what you’re saying. “And it’s not like you can’t afford it, but I’ll split the cost with you. For the principle of it all.” There’s a beat of silence as what you’ve just said settles into the air. “Oh,” you add, remembering the most important detail. “And he’ll be discreet. Under the table tutoring, if you will. No chance of word getting back to Daddy Sim.” 

You do your best to give him your most trustworthy smile. Jake just stares back at you, mildly horrified.

When he finally speaks again, it’s to say, “... Please, and I mean this with every single bone in my body, please never refer to my father like that again.”

Not even bothering to look sheepish, the only agreement you offer is a mock salute. 

Your poor taste in nicknames aside, it does seem like a pretty sweet deal from where Jake is sitting. He cannot fail economics again, and getting a tutor would mean that his brother couldn’t hold his success over his head, couldn’t claim to be the sole reason for it. And a discreet tutor would be even better. Not going through the official university system would mean a much lower chance of his father ever finding out he got some help along the way.

All things considered, and very much to his surprise, Jake is having a hard time seeing any downsides. 

He goes through the list again. First, he gets to pass economics. Second, he doesn’t have to deal with his older brother in the process. Third, he gets a tutor that won’t pop up on his father’s radar, and all Jake has to do in return is–

Wait.

“Hold on a minute.” There’s an unmistakable edge of suspicion in Jake’s voice. There’s no way you went out of your way to find him a tutor, to help pay for it, without getting something in return. The wheels in his mind are starting to spin when he asks, “What’s in it for you?”

Next to him, you smile. It’s small, and if he didn’t know any better, he’d think you almost look nervous. “It’s just a small favor, really.” The expression on your face is not reassuring in the slightest. Still, you insist, “It’ll be easy, I promise. Just a few hours of your time at most.”

Jake knows better than to agree without details. And especially to anything you’re proposing. He’s already preparing to kiss his dreams of passing econ goodbye when he asks slowly,“What is it?”

You sigh, pretenses dropping. If you’re going to convince him now, you might as well do it with honesty. “That annual charity fundraiser event my parents throw. Your parents are usually there, I think. I don’t know if you’ve ever gone?”

Jake shrugs, frowning as he tries to remember. He’s not entirely sure either. After a while, fundraisers and events and family obligations all start to blur together. Although the name does ring a bell, albeit a distant, faint one. 

“Anyway,” you continue, “my mother is insistent that I bring a date. Someone she considers appropriate company. You know, runs in the same circles and comes from what she would consider a good family.” Jake nods. He does know exactly what you mean. Picking up on his agreement, you add with a twinge of hopefulness, “Like I said, it would be easy. Especially for you, since you’re used to this kind of stuff. I wouldn’t have to train you–”

That has Jake rolling his eyes. “Let me guess. I get a treat for rolling over?”

The ice in your glare is half hearted. “You know what I mean. There are certain…” You weigh your words carefully. “expectations at these things.” Pausing for a moment, you add, “What I’m trying to say is that I don’t think you’ll eat the soap, even if it’s candy shaped and on a platter.”

If you were trying to clarify your point, you did a terrible job. Jake’s brow pulls downwards in confusion. “Is that supposed to be some kind of metaphor?”

“Unfortunately not.” You shake your head, but don’t explain any further. Sunghoon’s mishaps are not the point of this conversation. A mutually beneficial deal is. Which is why you ask him, “So, what do you say? Are you in or not?”

Is he? Jake says nothing, considering. Mentally, he goes through the list of pros and cons. Pros, he thinks. I get to finally pass econ, and I get to do it without my brother. He glances at you out of the corner of his eye, gaze tracking the movement as you nervously bite at your lower lip. Also, I get to show up at an event with the girl he’s been trying to get for weeks now. 

He’d be lying if that didn't spark a certain warm feeling in his chest, if it didn’t inspire a sudden bout of preemptive vindication. But there are other things to consider.

Cons, he continues internally. I have to spend an entire evening at an event hosted by your family and make them believe you don’t annoy the ever-loving shit out of me.

Weighing his options, Jake has one more question. “How long would it be?” he asks, and you try to stifle a grin, as if he’s already told you yes. 

“The event is technically four hours,” you say carefully, “but I’m sure we could manage to sneak out after a solid two and a half.”

Jake nods, thinking it over a moment longer. 

“Okay,” he finally breathes, hoping this isn’t some kind of terrible, elaborate trick, that he isn’t about to sign his life away on a dotted line. 

For econ, he thinks. For what’s left of his struggling GPA. He can manage a single night at a mind-numbingly boring high society function. Even if it’s with you. “I’m in.”

And it feels a bit strange, he has to admit, as he watches you type your contact information into his contact list. It feels odd to have your number in his phone with no intention of passing it on. To know that he’s the one who will be using it to confirm the details of this Saturday. To know that his brother will be none the wiser and not at all closer to having any kind of access to you.  

And if that strange surge of smugness makes another sudden appearance, well, Jake just figures that no one ever has to know about it. 

…

Frowning, you give yourself another once over in the full length mirror that sits next to your vanity. A shimmering, pale gold, the evening gown that flows over your figure was hand-selected by you for this very event. For some reason, you’re having a hard time rediscovering the magic you’d felt trying it on in the showroom here in the soft, ambient light of your bedroom. 

Objectively, you’re sure you must look good. The compliments the store attendants had given you were more than just customary, and gold has always been your color. Still, a slew of sudden uncertainties simmer in your gut. Is the slight sparkle too garish? Does the gold wash you out? Your worries feel too big for your bedroom, at too stark an opposition with the peaceful ambience as soft, instrumental music plays from your speaker.

But this particular Saturday evening has its ways of making you feel jumbled where you’d typically be steadfast. Insecure where you’d usually find confidence.  

It’s true that your mother has always had a critical eye, and especially where you’re concerned. If you were to search deep enough, however, you’d find that she’s not the person you’re most concerned about making a lasting impression on tonight. 

With no small effort, you resist the urge to smooth out invisible wrinkles in the bodice of your dress. A nervous habit more than anything, it’s only exacerbated by the way your phone is still devoid of notifications. The clock on your nightstand is a reminder that your date for the evening should be here any minute, should be sending a message as confirmation of his arrival at your apartment. But your phone is still silent, even as the hour of the fundraiser draws nearer and nearer. 

Maybe this was a terrible mistake, you think, a new bout of uncertainties beginning to brew. It shouldn't be a surprise, really. Trust him to be just as flakey as his brother, with absolutely no regard for previous commitments or anyone else’s time. It’s just your luck that you get stood up again, this time by the other Sim. 

You're in the middle of disguising your fears and distracting yourself by cursing him and his future bloodline when your phone finally pings with an incoming notification. Well, you think, grabbing your coat, feeling a bit ridiculous for the slight overreaction, you’ll have to look into removing generational curses when you have the time.

For now, you settle with pulling on your heels for the evening, ignoring the way you feel a bit wobbly despite the fact that you’ve walked in far worse. Locking your apartment behind you and striking a slightly unsteady pace towards the elevator down the hall, you whisper a silent plea that tonight isn’t as much of a disaster as you’re afraid it could be. 

You watch as the numbers on the elevator screen tick lower and lower, a swirling mix of dread and excitement starting to swim in your stomach. When you finally reach the first floor, you’re surprised to see a familiar face waiting for you in the lobby. Something in you softens, albeit just slightly. You’d incorrectly assumed he would just wait for you in the comfort of his car and spent the whole ride down preparing to awkwardly check license plates in the near dark till you found the right one. 

An overwhelming sense of  self-consciousness returns to you under the brightness of the lobby lights. Unconsciously, you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, wondering how long it will take him to notice you as you begin to walk towards him. You’ve only made it a few steps when it strikes you that he’s already distracted by something else. 

Across the lobby, Jake Sim is engaged in a conversation with your doorman. One that looks slightly heated, by your judgment. 

As you get closer, their words become more audible. 

“Like I just told you,” The exasperation in your date’s voice is apparent. “I’m here to see ___.”

And you really should make your presence known, should step in and divert the brewing argument, especially since you seem to be the subject of it. 

But then you look at Jake. Really look at him. 

Realistically, you knew he would come well-dressed. That had been a big part of your reason for choosing him. The Sunghoon soap fiasco aside, you already knew Jake Sim wasn’t someone who needed you to put together a PowerPoint presentation on formal event dress code. He didn’t need you to explain the concept of complementary colors or the advantages of getting a suit tailored. Didn’t need you to explain that Converse were not an appropriate show or that no, a bolo tie is not acceptable attire. 

Up until now, you were grateful for his pre existing knowledge. It saved you a lot of time and effort that you could use to focus on other things, like getting ready yourself. But it also meant that you were entirely unprepared to see him like this. 

Eyes scanning him again, the immaculate fit of his suit is undeniable, as is the way his dark hair is perfectly mussed. It’s styled enough to avoid withering comments from elderly attendees who have the habit of asking how people see with their hair covering their eyes. But it’s also messy in a way that looks intentional, in a way that makes you want to run your fingers through it, tug at it just a little, just to tease. 

It’s not just that he’s dressed well, though, despite the fact that he undeniably is. 

No, what has you freezing in your footsteps is the fact that Jake looks good. 

“And like I just told you, you’re not on her guest list. So I’m sorry, sir.” There is not a single trace of apology in your doorman’s voice. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you up. You’ll have to contact her and ask her to add you to her guest list.” You’re not sure how he manages to do it without losing any professionality, but your doorman makes it very clear that he thinks that will happen just as soon as hell freezes over. 

Jake’s shoulders tense in visible frustration. You have to suppress an actual sigh at the way fabric stretches over the muscle there. “Again, I’m not asking you to. Could you please just let her know that I’m here? She’s not answering her messages–”

“How odd.” The sarcasm is unmistakable. 

Getting a little desperate, Jake ignores the slight and continues anyway. “And we’re on a bit of a time crunch, so–”

From here, you can see the way his features start to twist in panic. It’s sobering enough to snap you out of your trance.

Cutting in, you make your presence known. “It’s okay,” you tell your doorman first. “I know him.” Then, you turn to Jake, putting on an award-worthy performance of false nonchalance when you explain, “Sorry I didn’t respond to your message. I was just on my way down.”

You watch as some of the tension drains from his features. “That’s alright,” Jake concedes easily. “I just wanted to make sure we weren’t late.”

A funny feeling, a new one, stirs again. Something in you softens. “I appreciate that.” 

You can’t help the way you take another look at him. At his suit, his hair, his face. At him, at all of it. 

Mistaking your gaze for scrutiny, he asks, a bit self-consciously, “What do you think? Will your mother approve?”

She will. There’s no doubt in your mind. But you’re not looking at him through her eyes when you tell him, “Yeah, you look good. Really good.”

The last part probably wasn’t necessary, but the way he flushes makes it almost worth it. Casting your eyes downward in an effort to hide a smile, you notice a detail that you missed earlier. 

Jewelry. Gold jewelry. A handful of rings on his fingers and a delicate bracelet on his left wrist.  

Suddenly, his message from last night makes a little more sense.

Jake [9:02 pm]: What color is your dress for tomorrow?

You [9:08 pm]: Gold. Don’t worry about trying to match. A black suit will be just fine. 

Now, you’re grateful he didn’t fully listen to you, touched that he even bothered to ask.  

Across from you, Jake is suddenly having a bit of a hard time breathing. The earlier near-fiasco with your doorman all but forgotten, you’re still admiring his bracelet as his eyes scan the length of you, throat bobbing by the time his gaze makes its way back up to your face. 

“You, uh,” he coughs. “You look nice too.”

“Thank you.” You miss the way his gaze wanders, can’t seem to find a place to land that won’t dust the tops of his cheekbones an even deeper shade of crimson. “I’ve been looking forward to wearing this dress forever.”

And it is a nice dress, Jake thinks, but he’s not sure how to tell you that’s not what he meant. 

Eyes finally landing on your feet, or rather, on the stilettos you’re wearing, he frowns. “I had to park kind of far away.” Meeting your gaze, he adds, “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll pull the car around front.”

“Okay.” Something in you melts a bit at his consideration, at the fact that he even noticed. “Thank you.”

And it is nice, you think, to not be beginning the evening with your feet already sore. To have someone pick up on the little things, even if he’s being compensated for it in the form of half-price tutoring.

Sliding into the passenger seat, you try not to sigh like a lovesick schoolgirl when he opens the door for you, when he puts his hand on the back of your seat as he reverses the car out of its parking spot. Get it together, you think. You’ve turned up your nose at far more obvious attempts at wooing you, and it’s not like Jake is here with you out of his own volition. The thought is surprisingly disappointing, as he adjusts the stereo, soft music filling the silence.

The drive passes like that, in a quiet that’s only uncomfortable if you look at it too close. Eventually, the soft melodies filtering through the stereo become a pleasant sort of background noise as you watch the world blur outside the window. 

It would be smart, probably, to sort out your story for the evening and put together something coherent for when the two of you are inevitably asked invasive questions, but you can’t bring yourself to be the one to disturb the peace. 

So when you arrive at the fundraiser a handful of minutes later, you just have to hope that the image the two of you strike together will be enough to stave off any unwanted questions for the time being. 

Again, Jake opens your car door for you, offers a steadying hand as you step out of it. And when he gives you his arm as you enter through the front door of the venue, you take it, wrapping your fingers around his elbow. Pausing just outside the entrance, you watch as he takes a deep breath.  

“Ready?” You’re not sure if you’re asking him or yourself. 

Jake answers for the both of you. “Let’s do this.”

Walking through the lobby, you hand your jackets to the coat check attendant before entering the ballroom where the fundraiser is held. Despite your general distaste for this evening and everything it entails – you sneak a glance at your partner in crime. Well, mostly everything – you can’t help but admire the space around you.

Decorated immaculately down to every last element, your mother truly doesn’t spare any expense or detail when it comes to throwing parties. And like always, she somehow manages to have a sharp eye on everything and everyone, no matter how chaotic or busy. You’ve hardly taken two steps inside the ballroom when she finds you, approaches you will all the grace of a panther stalking its prey. 

Pulling you in for a quick hug, the warm greeting she gives you is more for the benefit of onlookers than for you. And it forces you to remove your hand from Jake’s arm.

Looking over your shoulder, her voice is sickeningly saccharine. “And this must be James,” she beams, making eye contact with the wrong brother. Directing her attention to him, she gushes, “My daughter has told me wonderful things about you.”

Your eyebrows raise in disbelief. Jake stifles a laugh, expertly turns it into a cough. 

Really? You think. She did all that digging on James’ so-called turtle philanthropy but never bothered to pull up a picture of the guy? And you mean, standard genetic similarities aside, it’s not like the two of them look that much alike.

“Actually, mom,” you spare him the expense of having to correct her mistake, “this is Jake Sim. James’ brother. We go to school together.”

“Oh,” her eyebrows fall at the slip, no doubt an unforgivable social faux pas in her mind. “You never filled out the RSVP form, sweetie,” she somehow makes the term of endearment sound like a curse, “so I wasn’t sure who you’d be bringing.” Trust her to find a way to make her mistake your fault. 

Turning back to your date, she tries to remedy her mistake. “Jake, then.” She offers him a smile so forced you’re surprised her cheeks aren’t aching. Looking back at you, she fishes, “And he’s your…?”

Her dangling bait goes untouched. “He’s my plus-one.” It’s an intentional choice of words on your part. In your mind, it’s a neutral enough term that will hopefully let you navigate the evening without too many rumors or invasive questions about your personal life from people you only speak to out of reluctant obligation.  

Jake is less used to the way your mother tends to poke and prod, the way she likes to examine the superficial details of your life with a microscope and make sure she can frame them in a way that will be pleasing for public perception. The way she doesn’t ask about your love life because it’s of any genuine interest to her, but because she wants sole control of the rumor mill’s production. 

Next to you, he stiffens, feels as though he’s already failed some kind of test he didn’t know he was taking, wasn’t given any materials to study for. 

There’s a lot to be said, probably, about the way you pick up on his discomfort so easily. The way your hand returns to the crook of his elbow wordlessly and gives a single, gentle squeeze. Reassuring him, putting his nerves at ease, as you begin to navigate your way out of this conversation. 

“We’d better find our seats,” you tell your mother. The only reason Jake can identify the icy edge hiding in the superficial sweetness of your voice is because he’s been on the receiving end of it. On multiple occasions. Directed at someone else, he finds it almost amusing. “Wouldn't want to miss anything.”

“Of course,” your mother concedes, but there’s an undertone there. Jake can tell that there’s a war being waged here, battles and skirmishes in subtext and stilted pauses. He’s no stranger to the way high society likes to wrap up insults in niceties and skirt around delicate topics, but his own family has never been anything but blunt when it comes to their distaste for him and his choices. 

He’s still not entirely sure what he just witnessed, but you’re dragging him by his arm to find your assigned table before he can sort through the offending slights and put on armor that may be of any use to you. 

Carefully arranged, the maze of tables is easy enough to navigate. Each seat has a white place card in front of it, embossed with a shimmery golden script that matches your dress and holds the name of the guest who’s been assigned to sit there. 

You drag Jake past a flurry of names and attendees he half recognizes, stopping only to grab two flutes of champagne from a passing waiter, handing one to Jake before you continue on your mission. After another minute of searching, you find your name at a table a few rows out from the far wall. Rolling your eyes, you can practically hear your mother’s reasoning: Not too close to the wall. Wouldn’t want people thinking I’m trying to hide her. But certainly not anywhere near the center of the room, in case she falls into that pesky habit of being an awful embarrassment.  

Standing behind your chair, your eyes find the place card stationed in front of the seat next to yours at the same time Jake’s do. 

“Oh my god.” The exasperation is apparent, even though your words are barely audible where you mutter them under your breath. 

Because of course this hasn’t already been enough of a train wreck. Because of course the place card next to yours doesn’t have Jake’s name on it. Nope, embossed in the same shimmery gold is the name of another person entirely. 

James Sim. 

You turn to your date, apologetic. “God, I’m sorry. I really didn’t fill out the RSVP form, but I didn’t think she’d just assume…”

“It’s okay.” Jake gives you some grace. “Really, it wouldn’t be the first time.” And all things considered, he kind of is in his brother’s seat tonight. Attending an event that’s better suited for the future head of the company than his forgotten younger brother. Accompanying the girl that public opinion surely dictates would be a better match for him. 

Still, you frown. Reaching for the small clutch that sits against your hip, you rummage for a moment before pulling out a black permanent marker. 

Jake glances at you sideways.Your bag of the evening is tiny, barely even big enough to hold your phone. He’s surprised you managed to fit the marker in there, much less prioritize it enough to bring it with you. “You carry that thing around with you all the time?”

You shrug. “Never know when you’ll need to do some DIY vandalism.”

It would be a lie if he said something in him doesn’t soften, just a bit, when he watches you reach for the place card in front of his seat and put a giant, bold X over his brother’s name. 

Your handwriting is no match for the computer-generated script, but Jake still likes the place card a little better when you’re done with it, likes the way his name looks next to yours when you set it back on the table, alterations completed. 

“There,” you say, looking entirely too satisfied with your handiwork. “All better.” This time, you slide down into your seat before Jake has the chance to pull it out for you. Turning to him as he tentatively takes the seat next to you, he finds a small frown on your lips. “Wait,” you pause, realization written across your features. “Your brother isn’t coming, right?”

Jake shakes his head. “I mean, I don’t know for sure, but I doubt it. He has no reason to come. My parents are on a business trip, so they won’t be here either. And that also probably means he’s more swamped than usual at the office.”

Nodding, you take a sip of champagne. “Good.” Pausing, your lips quirk. “Although it would be kind of funny if he–”

“I think you’re in my seat.” The sudden interruption is flat, leaves no room for arguments. 

Startled, the two of you spin in your chairs. 

James Sim, despite his brother’s predictions, is in fact not otherwise occupied at his office. Instead, he stands directly behind his younger sibling, strikes an imposing figure where his shadow blocks the chandelier light behind him and extends over his brother and his altered place card. 

Eyes flaming, he looks at where his name has been crossed out. Replaced. 

Next to Jake, you remain silent, figure that you’ll let Jake handle this one the way he let you handle your mother. Far be it from you to step in on a family matter.

But then you notice the way Jake shrinks a little in his seat, hides a little further in his brother’s shadow. Reaches for the place card like he wishes he could take it back.

Sliding your gaze back to your least favorite Sim sibling, your voice is even, albeit icy, when you point out the obvious, “It’s not actually. Can’t you read?” Jake’s hand stops in its tracks, falls back to his lap.

A quick look your way is the only indication James even hears you. Instead, he continues his one-sided conversation with his brother, a barely controlled sort of fury crossing over his expression. “Hm,” he muses, glancing between the two of you. “Sure seems like you two are awfully close.” Casting an accusatory glare at Jake, he adds, “That’s funny. I could have sworn you said you barely knew her.”

Her. You’re sitting right there, and you don’t even get a name. 

It doesn’t go unnoticed by Jake either. And it turns out to be just what he needs to find his voice. You’re almost proud of the sarcasm he manages to muster when he counters, “Yeah, well, this funny thing happens when you spend time together. You actually get to know each other.” Straightening his spine, there’s an unmistakable edge in his voice when he adds, “You know, when you actually bother to show up, that is.”

You hide a laugh behind your hand, albeit not very well. Glancing at Jake, a feeling swells in your chest that you can only identify as pride. You didn’t know he had it in him. 

Reassessing his strategy, James turns to you, forcing a nonchalance that is entirely contradicted by the way his cheeks are rapidly reddening. “Actually, ___,” he tries, acting as if the last thirty seconds faded out of existence at his will. “I was hoping to speak to you about something. I’d love to get you a drink if you–”

“Actually,” Jake cuts in, doubling down. “We already have drinks.” Behind you on the table, the two near full glasses of champagne are undeniable evidence. The laugh that spills out of you this time is impossible to hide. Yeah, you decide, between the two of them, you definitely hate James more. Entirely amused, the only thing you wish you had is a bowl of popcorn as you root for the underdog. Not that he needs it. Much to your satisfaction, he’s been landing his punches well. 

The giggle dies on your lips, though, when you feel the warmth of another hand suddenly cover the top of yours where it rests on your thigh. Gaze flaming, James follows the movement. Startled, your eyes fly to Jake. The only view you’re offered is of his profile as he keeps his gaze trained on his brother, the challenge in his features unmistakable. 

The only consolation he offers for your sudden shock is a small, reassuring squeeze against your knuckles. 

And then he says, “And I’d like to keep my girlfriend right here, actually.” At that, he does finally turn to you, eyes pleading, gaze imploring when he seeks your permission. Even though they’re performative in nature, his words aren’t solely for James’ benefit. “If that’s alright with you, that is.”

Girlfriend.

You were perfectly happy in the role of the observer, but now Jake has dragged you into the spotlight. Even though it pains you, you know you can’t leave him hanging. Not when that would mean a sure victory for his dickhead of a brother. 

Girlfriend. The word echoes in your head, has you feeling dizzy.

“Of course,” you return hollowly, barely recognizing the sound of your own voice over the sudden rushing in your ears. “Boyfriend.”

When you smile at him, you make sure it looks sickeningly sweet enough to deter James. Your eyes, however, flash with a warning only Jake can read. 

“You’re dating?” James can’t hide his shock, and his outrage is just as obvious. 

“Yep,” Jake passes you a panicked look. But you don’t need it, don’t need his convincing. You’ve already dug yourself a deep enough hole. Trying to climb out now would only mean everything crumbles. 

“Sure are,” you confirm with a tight smile. Turning back to Jake, you add, “Actually, sweetie, I need to talk to you about, uh…” you scramble for a moment. Finish vaguely with, “that thing.” 

“Right.” Jake picks up on the threat in your eyes seamlessly, knows there’s only one acceptable response. “That thing,” he echoes. 

“Yeah, so,” you turn back to James, barely acknowledging him as you start to stand. “We’re gonna step out for a minute.”

Jake is all but putty in your hands as you switch the positioning of your grip so that the hand that was resting on yours is now encased firmly between your fingers. 

“See you later,” are Jake’s breathless parting words to his brother. 

“Hopefully not, though,” you alter. 

And then you’re dragging him back through the crowd towards the exit, and it’s all Jake can do to not run into the other guests or knock over the delicately balanced trays of hors d’oeuvres waiters carry throughout the room. He’s at your mercy all the way through the double doors of the ballroom, and you pause only briefly to determine which hallway is less likely to have people in it before deciding on the one to the right, towing him along behind you.

Once you’re far enough away from unwanted eyes and ears, you start wiggling every door knob you come across, growing visibly more frustrated until you finally find an unlocked one. Huffing, you push Jake into the spare storage closet first. Following him in, you close the door behind you. 

The sudden change in space puts you in close proximity. Your nose is only a handful of inches away from his when you start laying out accusations. 

“What the hell?” With the same hand than just dragged him on a half marathon, you shove at his chest. “Boyfriend?” You have half a mind to grab the broom standing next to you and start whacking him with it. 

“I’m sorry!” Jake holds his hands up defensively. He doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing every cleaning tool around you, no doubt deciding which would make the most effective weapon. “I panicked, okay? I just hate that smug little look he gets on his face–”

“Well you’re about to be seeing ‘that smug little look’ a lot more once he calls your bluff!” you half-shout, trying to convey your anger without alerting anyone to your presence.“The timeline barely lines up to begin with. It’s only been what, a few weeks since I was supposed to go on a date with him? And that’s not to mention the fact that there won’t be anyone to corroborate our story, because we don’t spend any time together, since, y’know, we’re not dating.”

Jake begs to differ. You’ve invaded more than one of his Wednesday night statistics study sessions. 

But before he can point this out, you’re continuing. “Which means you’re gonna have to come up with some sort of believable explanation for why we break up after, like, three days.”

“Ugh.” Jake drags an open palm down his face. He hates to admit it, but you do have a point there. 

Fingers running through his hair, his sudden stress is apparent. And you’re not trying to send him to an early grave, but would it have killed him to think before he spoke? Consider the consequences of starting the exact kind of rumor you’ve been hoping to dodge all evening? You get that his brother is not exactly an easy person to get along with, but was the short-lived victory really worth the potential fallout? 

Across from you, Jake seems to be having the same realizations. A million thoughts whirring through his brain, he’s not sure where to place his focus. 

After a moment, he settles on optimism. “Look, I think it will be fine.” The more he thinks about it, the more he convinces himself he believes it. “James has been up to his ass in company stuff since the second he graduated, so it’s not like he has extra time to check up on us or anything.” And even if he did, James would have no way of knowing who to ask. Jake has the sneaking suspicion his older brother couldn’t name a single one of his friends if his life depended on it. He would have no idea who to track down to corroborate your so-called romance. 

“We won’t have to do anything,” Jake reasons. “I’ll just mention you in passing for the next few weeks if he happens to ask.” Even that should be simple enough. After all, Jake seriously doubts he will. “And by the time the holidays roll around, I can just say things fizzled naturally.” Easy. Simple. Uncomplicated. Mutual, and your pride and his both remain intact. “No big deal.” 

Across from him, you weigh his words. It makes sense, yes, but there’s something starting to swirl in your gut that you don’t like. It feels a little too much like dread, like trepidation. Jake can read all of the uncertainty written across your face when you tell him, “I still don’t like it. My mother and your brother were both here tonight and already got different stories from us. This could get messy really quickly. I mean, what if our families start talking–”

“They won’t.” Jake shakes his head. “Your mom thinks I’m just a plus-one, and when my name comes up in James and my father’s conversations, it isn’t to discuss the ins and outs of my dating life.” Of this, at least, Jake is sure. His father couldn’t care less who he dates, as long as it’s not a liability to him, to the company. “Besides, we're university students.” Jake tries to lighten the mood, clear some of the tension. “Twenty-one and immature and all that.” For a moment, Jake imagines what life would feel like if that’s truly all he was, if that’s the only thing he got to be. No added pressure of a notorious last name and a reputation to maintain. Tucking that thought to the back of his mind, he decides he’ll mourn it later. “A short-lived relationship with a story that doesn’t quite add up is practically a right of passage. Not something to be suspicious of.” 

You remain silent for a moment, but your hand doesn’t get any closer to the broom.

“Okay.” Some of the tension seeps out of your shoulders as you turn his reasoning over in your brain, nodding as his logic starts to piece together. “Okay,” you reiterate. You still don’t like it, but he’s right about one thing: it is the best option you have. 

After all, there’s no way in hell you’re about to go tell your mother that your plus-one is actually your secret boyfriend, and you hate to admit it, but James’ little smirk is incredibly agitating. And it will all blow over, you’re sure. Like Jake said, James and your mother have no real reason to talk, and if Jake is convinced that his brother won’t be spreading this particular rumor, you’ll just have to believe him for the time being. 

Letting him out of the closet first, you only imitate hitting him upside the back of the head once before you catch up to him, linking arms again before reentering the ballroom. 

As the evening goes on, your worry starts to subside. Thankfully, every other part of the night goes perfectly to plan, even if you do have to force yourself to laugh a little too hard at one of Jake’s awful jokes when you catch James watching the two of you. The second glass of champagne you down helps, if nothing else. 

Exactly as you predicted, after two and a half hours have passed, you and Jake are sneaking out the back exit, tiptoeing to his car as the fourth speaker of the evening continues their droning speech inside the event. Your mother is none the wiser to your early departure, and you hope it’s the first in a series of victories for the evening. 

When Jake drops you off just outside the front doors of your apartment building, his smile is almost reassuring enough to put that lingering sense of unease to rest where it still sits in your gut. 

Makeup removed, hair washed, and evening gown traded for pajamas, sleep is slow to find you a handful of hours later. Eventually, though, it does, and your rest is undisturbed, dreamless. 

…

The next morning, with nothing but the pastel tones of sunrise and the sound of his brewing coffee maker to keep him company, Jake Sim stares at the message on his phone in abject horror. 

Mom [7:32 am]: I can’t believe I had to find out from your brother! Family dinner next weekend at our place. Bring your girlfriend. :) 

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

PART TWO IS UP AND LINKED ON MY MASTERLIST!

note: thank you for reading!! this is the version I had saved in my docs and it should be identical to what was posted before but in case there are any slight differences, that's why. I also sometimes make the fatal mistake of doing small grammatical edits in tumblr itself, so please excuse any minor errors as I didn't do a read through this time around. as always, I love to hear any thoughts you may have!

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ The Last Great American Dynasty

♥ masterlist | request rules | based on this request

♥ pairing: logan sargeant x fem!driver!reader

♥ synopsis: logan gets replaced at williams mid season by you, his girlfriend. luckily his racing career and f1 story is not over yet.

♥ smau - fc: women on pinterest - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing, hate comments, and james vowels slander !!!

♥ a/n: logan gets the happy ending he deserves (by taking james' job lol).

-August 26, 2024-

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, susie_wolff, and 3,592,602 more

williamsracing Y/n L/n to race for the remainder of the 2024 season

view comments

logansargeant proud of you ❤️

yourusername thank you logie. I can't wait to see where racing takes us both. I love you ❤️

user6 the fact that he's still so supportive of her... I love them your honor 🥺

alex_albon You gave it your all brother and it’s been a pleasure being teammates with you. I know whatever you do next, you’ll be awesome. I can't wait to race along side you as well @/yourusername. Lets make history.

user9 HOW ARE WE FEELING LOLEX NATION 😭

user1 the tears that are coming out of my eyes right now

user2 😧

user7 I felt my heart break in real time

user4 ... james I am in your fucking walls

user5 I am so proud of y/n but damn.

user21 can someone explain please??

user7 logan, the driver y/n is replacing is her boyfriend

user9 I cried.

user60 imagine taking your own BOYFRIENDS job. he deserves so much better

user51 poor logan 💔

user10 lets not let the sad news about logan leaving impact our support for y/n. shes the first woman to race in f1 in a VERY long time and that's an incredible achievement

user3 say it louder for the people in the back

user12 this !!!

user4 James vowels is the common enemy

user8 @/user4 TRUE

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-Logan's Insta Story-

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by logansargeant, susie_wolff, lilymhe, and 609,427 more

yourusername oh look i’m winning

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user1 yes you are queen

user2 you don’t have to brag 😔

user5 POINTS

landonorris @/logansargeant maybe you should get her a dog

pierregasly 💀

user1 landooo 😭

user8 how is she so gorgeous

user9 oh to be y/n

user6 prove the haters wrong !!!

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, patriciooward, Indycar, and 984,582 more

logansargeant back in blue

tagged; @/andrettiindy

view comments

yourusername 🩵

logansargeant 🩵

patriciooward good to see you again

user7 SHUT THE FUCK UP NOT ANDRETTI SIGNING HIM FOR 2025

user9 HAHAHA

user3 the personal beef andretti has with f1 is inspiring 😩

user8 WHAT THE FUCK IS A KILOMETER 🦅🇺🇸

user5 lets go logan

user1 oh we are SO back.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by yourusername, oscarpiastri, andrettiindy, and 2,459,302 more

logansargeant today I got the privilege of marrying the most talented, beautiful, and kind woman I have ever met. you have stood by me since the beginning of my career and I am honored that you chose me to support you throughout the future of yours. I love you so much

comments are limited

f1 our favorite paddock couple

indycar double it and give it to the next motorsport

alex_albon congratulations to the both of you!

lilyzneimer thank you for making me your maid of honor 🥹 you looked absolutely stunning today

yourusername lilyyyy 😭🫶

williamsracing so who caught the boquet? 👀

yourusername lily mhe 🤭

lilymhe we might be needing those brides maid dresses again soon

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

-December 2035-

It has just been announced that former F1 driver Logan Sargeant and his wife, Y/n L/n will be the new team principal and CEO of Williams Racing.

The F1 American Dynasty

If you're unfamiliar with the story of Sargeant you may not understand the significance of this change for Williams. He had a spot on the grid during 2023-2024 before being dropped mid-season and replaced by his now wife Y/n L/n. He then went on to drive for Andretti, an American Indycar team and Y/n won four championships during her time in F1. The two of them have continued to carry on the legacy of American drivers in Formula 1, encouraged by the Andretti family.

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

liked by andrettiindy, susie_wolff, oscarpiastri, and 1,362,503 more

yourusername CEO life

view comments

lilymhe GORGEOUS

yourusername no YOU <33

williamsracing glad to have you back @/logansargeant

user2 even admin is a logan fan

user4 oh FUUUCK YEA

user7 stop the middle picture-

user9 I want what they have 😭

user1 their ULTIMATE revenge

user12 fuck james vowels

user3 all my homies hate james vowels

✧˖ °. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁‧₊˚ . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁˖°✧

end notes: thank you so much for reading! even though logan isn't on the grid I'll still have a few fics coming out for him soon <3

[lazycats-stuff]

Hi! I was wondering if you could do a part two where they meet kindergarten(y/n)’s “boyfriend” 

have a good day/night 

Yes and my apologies for a late reply. And yes, it's the same GIF. Why? I'm lazy to look for anything else.

Part 1 everyone - Batfamily x male!reader

Summary: Bruce wants to meet the supposed boyfriend and the parents.

Warnings: fluff, no one wants (Y/N) to grow up

The revelation of (Y/N) having a boyfriend sent everyone into a spiral. Everyone. Bruce still couldn't believe and when reflecting back on (Y/N)'s adorable revelation, Bruce was glad to be sitting down. And yes, him and Alfred had that scotch. How could they not? The baby of the family, not even a double digit age, has a boyfriend.

Dick still can't come to terms with it. He refuses to believe it. His baby brother... Having a boyfriend... No.

The rest were in almost the same mindset, but not so severe as Dick.

Either way, they were slowly, but surely, accepting the fact that (Y/N) has a boyfriend. Bruce has decided to set up a playdate with the supposed boyfriend. He needs to meet the boy and the boy's parents. He was going to make sure that the boy is worthy of dating (Y/N).

Hold on... (Y/N) is not a teen yet... He is still a toddler. Bruce sighed as he sipped his scotch slowly in his study, while (Y/N) was napping in his room. Why is Bruce in a mindset that (Y/N) is a teen? Probably because he has 4 teenage boys and those 4 do love testing his patience.

So, Bruce went on a solo pick up trip. He prohibited the boys from coming because none of them would be able to be calm. Damian would be him scary self, Jason would join him, Tim would look like he didn't sleep for days and it would look like Bruce abused him or something. And Dick? An emotional mess to say it lightly.

So Bruce waited patiently, watching as (Y/N) interacted with a boy... Holding hands... So there it is... The boyfriend. Bruce crossed his arms as he watched, trying to pinpoint the parents of the boy. And he found them.

A gay couple, one tall and one smaller. Adorable. (Y/N) noticed Bruce and ran to him, making Bruce smile. Bruce picked him up with ease.

" Hey (Y/N). How was your day? " Bruce asked as he adjusted (Y/N) in his arms.

" It was great. " (Y/N) said as he yawned, leaning his head on Bruce's chest, making Bruce chuckle.

" Someone's tired. Is that the boyfriend you were telling me about? " Bruce asked as he turned to look at the couple and their son. (Y/N) nodded, yawning in the process.

" I'm Bruce Wayne, nice to meet you. I would shake your hands, but they are full. " Bruce introduced himself to the couple, making them chuckle.

" No problem. I'm Theodore and this is my husband James. And this little boy is Dylan. " The taller one introduced the family and Bruce nodded.

" It seems our sons... Are dating. " Bruce said, rather hesitantly. He didn't know how he could approach this, how the other parent's feel about it.

" We know... James nearly passed out once he heard the excited, ' Dad, papa, I have a boyfriend. "

" My oldest wept once he heard it. One thought he was hallucinating since he is an insomniac. One who is usually stoic nearly lost it. And one is holding on by a thread. And I had to open up a bottle of scotch... So that's how we have been doing. " Bruce said, glancing down at his son, whose eyes were still closed.

" I did the exact same thing. " Theodore said picking Dylan up, adjusting his son in his arms.

" I was thinking about inviting you two to the manor, for a playdate. If our kids our... It's weird to say in a relationship, but you get my gist. " Bruce explained and the couple laughed.

" We'll be honored to come. " James said and Bruce reached into his pocket to give them a business card.

" My number's on it. Also, is Dylan allergic to animals? Cat and a dog? " Bruce inquired and both shook their heads.

" My second youngest has animals so I need to check. Just send me a text later and we'll go from there. " Bruce stated and the pair nodded.

" We'll do that. "

And the day finally came. Theodore and James came over with little Dylan and the two boys wasted no time in the big garden. Running, playing, Titus joining in, but being gentle... Bruce watched with Theodore and James, all of them sipping something. Bruce sipped some scotch, while they drank some red wine that Bruce pulled out of nowhere.

" So, if you don't mind me asking, what do you two do for a living? " Bruce asked, leaning back in his chair, crossing one of his legs over another.

" I'm a tattoo artist. " Theodore started and Bruce nodded. " I own my own shop. You might have heard about it, it's called, Majestic Ink. "

Bruce tilted his head as he thought about. " I have heard about it. Only nice things about it. " He said and Theodore smiled.

" And you James? "

" I own a chain of restaurants. " James explained and Bruce nodded.

" So we are all business owners. " Bruce noted and the two nodded. " Not an easy one. Especially bigger ones. " James laughed as he heard it and nodded.

" Tell me about it. I have to look after several restaurants and he looks after one shop. I envy him. " James admitted, playing with the stem of his wine glass.

" I envy small businesses. You don't have to worry about so many employees, you don't worry about your reputation, unless you are in a small town... I envy you Theodore. " Bruce admitted and Theodore chuckled at that.

" I don't envy you. All eyes are on you and if you mess up, everyone shits on you. Also, a quick question, how do you manage 4 teen boys? " Theodore inquired and Bruce laughed.

" That's the best part. You don't. You simply need patience and they need their daily dose of bickering. I bicker with them and they bicker with each other. I only tell them if they fight that they don't kill one another and no broken bones. I'm not driving them to the hospital. But, once (Y/N) into our lives, they became much more calmer, for his sake. " Bruce explained. " So I don't really worry about them fighting anymore. Physically at least. Verbally, they can throw it. " Bruce admitted, raising his glass of scotch up to his lips.

" We are just asking. We need to be prepared for Dylan. He is a sassy child already... I'm dreading the teen stage. " James rubbed his temple, laughing to himself.

" They are all going to put us in our early graves. " Theodore said, clearly referencing both (Y/N) and Dylan and the revelation of their... Relationship...

" You know, you know we love them and that they are doing what the rest of the kids do... They try to put us into our graves. " James concluded and Bruce let out a quiet amen.

" To our kids that are going to put us into their graves, " Bruce raised his glass, Theodore and James following his lead.

" And giving us gray hairs. " James added and the trio of fathers laughed, letting out a cheerful hear hear and then sipped their drinks.

" Dad! " (Y/N) yelled, running towards him. Bruce got prepared to pick him up as he had done this before. Bruce picked (Y/N) up, propping him up on his lap.

" Yes? "

" I want to marry Dylan! " (Y/N) said with a smile on his little face.

Bruce raised his glass again, nodding to Theodore and James before downing his scotch.

Kids do put you in your grave and give you gray hairs.

" Where are my brothers? " (Y/N) asked all of a sudden. Bruce might have gave them money to go shopping for the day so they leave the manor and not scare the poor boy.

" They have some plans, but they'll be back soon. "

Thank God scotch has managed soften the blow the wedding revelation.

Thank God that Dick isn't around to hear it.

[ghostwritermia]

Mia love, i came over from Mothers post and your call for Jegulus.

I have this DESPERATE need to bite Jamies hipbone. I have to excuses, but i realllllllly wanna 😭

So, what about Reader and Reggie who just bite Jamie all the time at random amd while James has just bevome accustom to it, Siri would be so HORRIFIED and try to progect sweet Jamie everytime and it kind of just becomes a game to Reggie and Reader: Operation Bite Beefy Boyfriend!! Alternatively how many times can we bite James before Siri has a meltdown.

I hope you get all your Jegulus wants!! 🫶

sorry if this sucks and that its so short, I tried 😭

It had started as a joke really, between you and Regulus. A game to see how long James could go without saying something about it. But he never did.

You and Regulus, both sorted into separate houses, had found your way to each other in 5th Year, and then during summer break between 6th and 7th Year, the two of you had fallen in love with the sweet sunshine that was James Potter, though you two would never admit that you fell first.

You had been neighbors with James for as long as you could remember, but had never actually visited his house until Regulus took up refuge there, therefore, you spent more time there. Hence, the blossoming of feelings and the addition to your relationship.

You were laying on the couch in the Gryffindor Common Room, your head in James’s lap, while Regulus sat in an armchair next to James’s seat on said couch. Absent-mindedly, James moved his hand to stroke through your hair when he then felt the gentle nip of teeth sinking into his forearm, stopping his movement.

Where James had gotten used to the game you and Regulus had started, some had not. Example being, Sirius screeching from his place in Remus’s lap on the opposite side of the room.

“Get your teeth out of my precious Prongs you demonic piranha!” he leaped from his place in Remus’s lap and strided over to you two and rolled you out of James’s lap and onto the floor with a thud.

Hearing the sudden commotion, Regulus’s head perked up from his book and looked to see you on the floor, simply laying there on your back, staring at the ceiling.

He sighed, placing his book down before sliding out of his armchair to reach a hand out to you. “Are you alright, Mon Amour?” he asked as he pulled you up. 

“I’m fine. Your brother, however, needs to be in a mental institution.” You hiss, rubbing the back of your head.

“Trust me, I know, Amour.” he sighed, and you two looked over to see Sirius curled into James’s body gently stroking from the top of his head down his face to his chin.

You, Remus, and Regulus let out a collective scoff before Remus makes his way back up to his dorm, and you and Regulus grab your things before leaving James and Sirius to be.

~~~~~~

It was lunch and today you and Regulus had decided to sit at the Gryffindor table with James. You sat on the right side of James whereas Regulus sat to the left. However, Sirius saw something before you did. Regulus biting into James’s shoulder. 

“Prongsie is not your chew toy, Regulus Black!” You hear Sirius squawk. You look past James’s chest and see Regulus simply lift his eyes from James’s shoulder to roll them at Sirius before looking over to you smirking, yet to remove his teeth from James’s shoulder.

"Well that would make sense, seeing as how you're the dog in the family." You retort, laying your head on James's shoulder.

James looks to each of you, smiling before affectionately leaving a kiss to each of your foreheads, much to Sirius Black’s protests.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Howling Hearts

Summary: Countess Romanoff and her lover, Lady Maximoff, find themselves inexplicably drawn to the Countesses oldest, most trusted and loyal guards. One night after a particularly rambunctious banquet, they finally decide to act on these forbidden urges and claim the two wolves as their own.

Warnings: talk of blood/feeding on blood, graphic violence, slight Omegaverse concepts for the werewolves, Reader has a penis, sexual content (fingering, oral sex, vaginal sex, breeding)

Authors note: first time writing Bucky in anything, so please go easy on me if he seems out of character at any point 💖

Authors note 2.0: sorry this is later than intended, still hope you enjoy it!

Word count: 10011 (im sorry its so long lmao) 2023 Halloween Specials Marvel Masterlist

   It was a cool evening, and a soft rain pattered against the castle's stained glass windows, providing a tranquil atmosphere to the room. Several times now you've become a bit lost in that feeling and have let your eyes linger a bit too long on Countess Romanoff as she sits in her exquisite chair by the fireplace. 

   Admiring her wasn’t new, in fact you were sure that after so many centuries you could paint the curve of her lips blindfolded and you were certain that your mate James could too. But lusting after the vampire that you were in service of wasn’t exactly acceptable behavior. If any other werewolf heard of such a thing it wouldn't go over well. Falling for the species that imprisoned yours to use like glorified watch dogs…they’d shun you at the very least.

  “Lady Romanoff, Starks fledgling is here to see you.” one of her guards announces, breaking the peaceful silence

   A brunette boy stands there beside the guard with wide eyes and he quickly offers the Countess a polite bow. She chuckles at his clear nervous energy and beckons him forward. Somehow the young vampires wobbly legs carry him further into the room

   “So young one” the Countess begins, giving the visitor her full attention “What brings you here on this lovely evening?”

    And lovely it had been indeed. With her lover out for the day it left her able to just focus on the presence of her two oldest and most trusted guards, her wolves. Something Wanda would indulge in as well, but normally they’d be too wrapped up in each other to daydream long. At least while in the same room as you, in their bedchambers it was a different story. But alas, the arrival of this fledgling had chased her decidedly naughty thoughts from her head.

   “Lord Stark wanted you to be informed that he and Lady Potts shall be in attendance of your upcoming banquet” he tells her, looking like he might pass out from anxiety at any second

   “Thank you and I’m glad to hear that. Do give them my best when you return home”

   He quickly nods and understanding that to be a dismissal he turns on his heels and heads back out the door you're standing by. He passes you with such a speed that you have half a mind to tell him to let the horse ride in the carriage as he takes the reins, but you hold your tongue. A good thing too, because no sooner did he disappear from view did Lady Maximoff arrive.

   She smiles as she passes by and heads straight for her lover, kissing the woman's cheek before taking a seat on her lap. You're used to such behavior by now, but at the start it had surprised you, as the Countess was not one to allow such affections from her nightly escapades. Then again, Wanda had always been different. She wasn’t some fledgling picked up for fun, nor was she a human chosen to be a plaything before a meal. No, she was every part an elder vampire, just as your master was, and they were quite old friends before the relationship ever began. 

   “Hello moya lyubov'(my love), is your brother well?”

   The brunette smiles, “He is, and still annoying. Who did I pass in the hallway?”

   “Starks fledgling, here to tell me that my invite was accepted” she explains

   “Oh good. It's not a proper banquet without Tony”

   The redhead chuckles, “How very true. We’ll have to have the kitchen staff keep extra glassware on hand, just in case he causes a debacle like last time.” 

   The two continue talking, making plans for the upcoming party as well as catching up on what the other had been up to in the few hours that they had been apart. You and James tried your best to stay focused and not watch the way the Countesses hands roamed across her lover's waistline and mid back as they converse but that proved to be a very difficult task.

   Eventually one of their servants enters the room with two goblets, indicating it was time for the two women to feed. Now, they could eat food like you and James did, but it did nothing for them. It didn't fill them or give them sustenance so it was something that they really only did when they felt like it or were craving something particular. Otherwise, it was all blood. The fresher, the better.

   "Here you are, my Lady" the servant greets, handing both women their cups

   “Thank you Sylvia” the Countess says before taking a deep gulp 

   The servant quickly excuses herself, heading back to whatever duties she was attending to before she needed to bring the two women their meal, and part of you wishes you could follow her. Not because you wished to be apart from anyone you were currently in the company of, but due to the feeling that stirs in your gut, and to your embarrassment, sometimes your pants, when you witnessed the women consume blood.

   You couldn’t help it, there was just something about being able to watch them feed. The way their fangs grew before they sunk them into their victim, their eyes turning nearly black as they drained the person's essence to fulfill their need was incredibly enchanting. And the way the red liquid dripped from the corners of their mouth, or how they licked their lips afterwards had your heart racing. Which is exactly how you feel now as a drop of blood trickles down from the corner of the Countesses mouth, down past her jawline and down her neck.

   Wanda notices this droplet as soon as Natasha moves her cup and she wastes no time in leaning over, letting her tongue lap up the treat before she attaches her lips to that same spot. She begins to suck a mark into the pale skin there, eliciting a throaty chuckle from the older vampire

   “Behave. You are not the only one currently present”

   Wanda's eyes travel over to James as she continues to mark up Natasha, before they eventually move to look at you as well. You sincerely hope she hadn’t noticed the way you shifted your stance in order to adjust the growing bulge at the front of your pants. The last thing you wanted was for either woman to begin to feel uncomfortable around you, or find you some kind of pervert. 

   “Dorogoy(darling), I said behave” the older woman repeats, gently tugging Wanda's hair to remove her from her neck and get her attention once more

   “But I like getting to mark you. I like the reaction it elicits” 

   Natasha smiles, “I like it too. But if that's something you want, then our room is a much more suitable place for us”

   Wanda wordlessly removes herself from her girlfriend's lap and waits for the redhead to stand before they both begin to make her way towards the doorway where you and James stand by. Wanda shyly smiles at you both and turns to the left, indicating that the bedchamber was exactly where they were headed

   “If anyone needs me” the Countess states, looking at James, “I’m not to be disturbed until I’m out of my room. Unless it's of utmost urgency”

   “Of course, my Lady” he responds, and she quickly follows after the brunette. After he's sure she's out of hearing range he looks to you with a brow raised, “Really?”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  Down the hall, Wanda finds herself pinned to the mattress as Natasha slowly undresses her, “So wet already. You get turned on marking me up in front of them?”

   “Yes” she whimpers, remembering how she felt like she was putting on a show for you both earlier

   “Mmm, you weren’t the only one” Nat replies against her lovers ear, making the younger vampire shudder, “They liked it too”

   Wanda's eyes shut as she tilts her head back, the feeling of hands roaming across her now bare body fogging her mind. Still she manages a reply, “Yeah?”

   “Oh, yes. Couldn't you see the hunger in their eyes? Or the bulge in Y/ns pants?"

  Another whimper leaves the brunette as Natasha gropes her breasts, "Yes, I saw"

   "And you liked it, didn't you? Causing that reaction in them."

   "I loved it…" she admits, looking into Nats eyes, "I want them, Tasha"

   "I know, my love. I do too, but you know we can't." She sighs, "Even if they feel the same, you know we can't. Our laws forbid it."

   Wanda sighs, a sadness now etched upon her features, "But I don't care about keeping the bloodline pure, and neither do you. So why can't we indulge in our heart's desires?"

   "Because we could be found out, which would endanger James and Y/n" 

   "But- "

   "Shhh darling" Nat interrupts, kissing her girlfriend's plush lips, "Just focus here right now. Can you do that for me?" The younger vampire nods and Natasha smirks at how eager she already seems, “Good girl”

      The mixture of praise and her girlfriend's touch causes Wanda to moan, and Natasha finds herself eager to hear more. She pulls more sounds from the brunette by pinching her nipples and sucking marks along her collarbone, letting her fangs brush against the sensitive skin there.

   Occupied by her lover's mouth, Wanda had failed to notice the removal of one of Natashas hands from her chest, until she felt a thumb press against her clit. Her hips jump slightly and another, more throaty moan leaves her as Nat slides a finger through her wet folds

   Wanda whimpers, her walls clenching around nothing, “I need you inside me, please”

   “I’ve got you” Nat coos, slowly inserting one of her fingers into her girlfriends tight hole

    “Please, more” she begs, and taking note of how wet she already is, Natasha slides a second finger inside, stretching her open as her thumb circles her clit, “Oh god, fuck me Tasha, please”

    Nat smirks and quickly begins to thrust her fingers, and she leans down to capture her lips in a kiss. She easily dominates the action, sliding her tongue into the awaiting girl's mouth while avoiding her fangs. Wanda's walls tighten around the older woman's fingers, causing her to smile and break away from the kiss

   “That feel good, my love?”

   “So…good” she pants, trying hard to catch the breath Nat keeps stealing from her, but its of no use when the redhead quickens her pace, “Ooh fuck!”

   “Which one are you picturing taking you right now?” Nat asks, smirk still plastered on her face. Wanda only wimpers, her fists tightening against the silk sheets as her head leans back, “It's ok darling, you can tell me. I wanna know”

   “James!” she practically shouts, feeling herself nearing her orgasm

   “Leaving poor Y/n out, hm?” Nat teases

   “No” she gasps, trying hard to focus on her fantasy, “She's…ooh!”

   Nat soothes her by kissing her chest softly, “She's what? Tell me”

   “She's making me suck her cock”

   Nat hums, fully agreeing with the mental picture her lover is painting, “I bet she tastes so good. Don’t you think?”

   “Yes!” she moans, her back arching off the bed

   “And James would absolutely fill your pretty pussy up, is that what you want?” she questions, nipping at the younger girls jawline

    The brunette's walls clamp down around Nat's fingers, “Yes! Oh god Tasha, please can I cum?”

   “Go ahead dorogoy(darling), cum”

    Wanda's legs shake as a loud moan leaves her, and her juices drip down her girlfriends hand to the sheets below. Natasha continues to slowly fuck her through her orgasm, prolonging her high until all she can do is whimper and grab at the older woman.

   “Good girl” she praises, gently pulling her fingers free before licking them clean, “Mmm, I’ll never tire of how you taste”

   “Can I taste you now? Please?”

   Nat smiles and quickly rids herself of her own clothes before she settles herself against the mattress, and if that wasn’t a clear enough ‘yes’ she spreads her thighs wide to reveal her pussy

   “So pretty” Wanda mumbles, leaning in to pepper her girlfriend's thighs with marks of their own

   The closer she gets to the redheads core, the more intense the older womans breathing becomes, until finally it's too much for her to take, “Come on darling, I thought you wanted to taste”

   Wanda quickly lets her tongue dart out, lapping up some of her girlfriends essence that had leaked out. The older woman lets out a small moan, which only urges Wanda on. She licks again, this time letting her tongue go even deeper inside as her nose bumps against Nats clit

   “Oh god, just like that”

   Priding herself on doing as she told, Wanda keeps going, exploring every part of the beautiful redhead before her with her talented mouth. The moans she's able to get her girlfriend to make only make her want to cause her more pleasure, and Natasha quickly finds herself reaching her own release

   “Fuck…” she mumbles, struggling to voice her own fantasy, “I wonder if Y/n can eat pussy as good as you”

   Wanda nips at the woman, meaning it as more of a ‘no ones as good as me’, but all it manages to do is leave her girlfriend grinding against her face

   “I’m so close Wans, please”

   Hearing her lovers please Wanda moves to suck on her clit and is rewarded with a gush of juices and a scream of her name. She carefully moves up the bed, straddling her lover's body before kissing her. The two stay locked together, passionately making out for what seems like hours as they continue to pleasure each other. Effectively ending the night as they did most, with whispered declarations of love and shared fantasies of their favorite werewolves.

   They're awoken the next morning by a loud pounding on their wooden door, "My Lady, pardon me waking you, but I imagine your guests will be arriving within the next few hours. I wouldn't want you to oversleep"

   A soft smile spreads across the redhead's face, "Thank you, Y/n. We'll be out shortly. Do tell Sylvia not to fret"

   "Yes, my Lady"

   Once Wandas sure you're out of earshot, she turns to her lover, "I do wish that maybe just once, they'd have to come in here to wake us. I'd love to just pull them into the bed with us"

   Nat chuckles, "Naughty girl"

   "Not like that. Not this time at least." Wanda corrects, "Right now, I just want to cuddle. I want to feel their arms wrapped around us as we all share the bed"

   "It does sound wonderful…" the Countess sighs

   "But it's just a dream, isn't it?"

   Natasha gives her a tight lipped smile, "I'm afraid so, dorogoy(darling). Now come, we need to get dressed for the banquet"

   After trying on multiple dresses each, they both finally settle on their choices and proceed to get ready. Wanda is dressed in a maroon dress, with her hair done up in a low bun. A few red gemstones decorate her hair to tie into her gown while a delicate necklace adorns her neckline. It was a gift from Nat earlier in their relationship, a golden chain with a dangling centerpiece consisting of golden knots and rubies. Natasha is in a black dress, her hair done up in exquisite braids with small charms and gemstones decorating it. Around her neck she wears a golden necklace with multiple chains dangling from it, each adorned with a few rubies. At the very center hangs a larger pendant that dips quite low, sitting snugly in her cleavage. 

   By the time they arrive in the grand hall, the area has been completely set up by the Countesses staff. The large gathering table for the heads of houses sits up front, while a few others are spread around the vast area. Each is decorated with an ornate cloth and set with plates and goblets for meal time. A few large candles sit at the center of each table with wines on either side for their guests to freely drink from.

   “My Lady” you greet, entering the room with a large tray of hors d'oeuvres

   “Y/n” she greets, swiping two samples from your tray. She hands one to Wanda before biting into it, “Mmm, the kitchen staff have done an excellent job”

   “They’ll be happy to hear that” you reply before making your way around the room to distribute the food to each table, “The main course should be ready about an hour after everyone's arrival, and James is tending to the humans chosen for tonight. But he’ll be joining us soon”

   “Perfect, thank you”

   With your task done, you can finally focus on them, which allows you to fully take in their appearance. And the words came out of your mouth before you even realized you were saying them, “Wow. The two of you look incredible”

   Both women smile, which helps to calm your nerves of overstepping a boundary. And if you didn’t know better, you’d swear a hint of pink was now visible on their cheeks, but vampires didn’t blush, right? And if they did, it certainly wouldn’t be due to a compliment from a lowly werewolf

   “Thank you, Y/n” Wanda says, pulling you from your thoughts, “You look great tonight too” 

  “You really think so?” you ask, glancing down at your outfit

  The Countess had gotten you and James formal attire a while back for situations like this, because every other house just had its wolves show up in a regular outfit, which she admits she did as well. Until she overheard a group of wolves talking about how ostracized they felt at events and gatherings, and she wanted you both to feel included. But she and Wanda had yet to actually see you wear them.

  “Absolutely, you look quite dashing” Natasha quickly condoms

   You smiles shyly, “Thank you, my Lady, and you as well, Lady Maximoff”

   Before either woman can continue the conversation, James arrives carrying an ornate dagger in its sheath, “My Lady, the humans are all properly secure and are all still in perfect condition for this evening.”

  “Thank you James” she replies, “Go ahead and set that by my seat”

  “Of course”

   As he moves to do as he's told, both women appreciate the way he looks in his new uniform as well. You can’t help but notice them doing this, and you find yourself wondering if they had been looking at you with that same amount of interest. The idea that they could have has your mind swimming with thoughts on what that could mean.

   “James, you look good in your suit too” Wanda finally offers up

   He smiles, “Thank you Lady Maximoff, I tried to clean up nicely for this evening”

   “And you did a wonderful job. You both did” the Countess assures, watching fondly as the two of continue to carry out your duties

   A few hours later and the banquet is in full swing. Many of the Countesses' friends and acquaintances are in attendance, bringing along a handful of their own guards or a couple of their werewolves to ensure the safety of themselves both during travel and here in the Countesses castle. The grand hall was quite full due to this, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t put you a bit on edge.

   You knew your Countess didn’t necessarily trust everyone she invited, but had to do it to keep the peace among the elder vampires and their houses. Meaning that someone here could easily be at odds with her, and with a handful of guards at their disposal they could cause a disturbance and multiple injuries if they chose to do so. Not to mention how easily someone with ill intentions could slip in and remain hidden in a crowd this large. 

   “You alright?” James asks, coming to stand beside you, his hand caresses your shoulder gently to hopefully ease some tension away from you

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I just….I don’t know, something seems off. Like there's an unnecessary heaviness in the air” you explain, eyeing the room suspiciously 

   He nods, “Yeah, I feel it too. Might just be our nerves, or it might be something, so lets stay on our toes just to be sure”

   You agree and the two of you do your best to not stray far from the main table for the next hour, wanting to ensure the safety of both your Countess and her girlfriend. If one of you had to do something or got called to have a conversation, the other made sure to not stray. And thankfully, so far, everything has been going well.

    “You know, if Lord Pyms fledgling isn’t careful with how he holds the elders daughter while dancing with her, we might have to step in to make sure Scott doesn’t lose his hands.”

   You glance over and notice Scotts hand dangerously low on Hopes back and catch the glare the older man is sending the two as they remain oblivious, “Oh, I would hate to be on the receiving end of a look like that. He's absolutely going to get a reprimand the entire way home tonight”

   “Guarantee it.” another voice replies, causing both of you to look in its direction. 

    “Carol, glad you're here”. It's nice to see you. you happily greet, having not seen the blonde werewolf in some time

    “You too, Y/n” she says with a smile, turning to look at your partner, “And you as well James.”

   “Hi Carol. Maria here too?” 

   She nods, “Of course she is, Count Fury wouldn’t go anywhere without both of us. Ah, there she is now”

   “Hey guys” the raven haired werewolf greets, and her mate happily kisses her cheek, “How are the two of you?”

   “We’re well” James replies, linking his fingers with yours, “How about the two of you?”

   “We’re good too” Carol replies, pausing to look at you, “Have the two of you been allowed to find an Omega yet?”

   You swallow and glance at James, unsure of what to say. Because packs worked a certain way, and that's essentially what a group of guards under a vampire's service was, a very small pack. Alphas were in charge, generally more offensive in actions, and were the ones responsible for breeding. And Omegas, who were still an equal threat despite generally being more defensive, and the ones that would carry any children. And due to you being in the service of vampires, you’d have to get their permission before finding mates and expanding your pack. Which, as Alphas, you and James had a big say in.

   And it's not like your Countess had forbid you from looking for an Omega, but it's not like you had asked either. Whether that was due to the two of you being content without more of a pack, or due to the two of you being infatuated with the two vampires was another matter. One that you couldn’t admit to.

   “Uh, well, we haven’t really brought it up to anyone yet” James admits, causing the two to share a look that you have a bad feeling about

    Back up at the main table the Countess sighs as Lord Rogers continues to drone on about something that not only happened thousands of years ago, but that he retold at every gathering. Wanda gives her hand a reassuring squeeze, and she turns to find the brunette rolling her eyes. She chuckles lightly at the action, until Count Fury sits down beside her

   “Countess Romanoff, such a lovely banquet so far. Though, personally I would have gone for whiskey instead of wine”

   She smiles, “Count Fury, I’m glad you could join us this time. I can have a servant get you some whiskey if you’d like”

   “I’d appreciate that”

   She quickly signals for Sylvia, who is just as quick to appear, “Please bring out one of our finest whiskies and a glass for the Count here”

   She nods and does as told. He takes his time pouring a glass sampling it. Once satisfied with it he fills the glass entirely before refocusing on conversation, “Seems my Omega wolves have taken a liking to your Alpha ones”

   Her eyes immediately snap up, trying to find you and James in the crowd, and once she does she hates what she sees. Carol is standing mere inches from you with her hand resting along your bicep while Maria stands inches away from James, brushing a long stand of loose hair back behind his ear. 

   Her jaw clenches as she watches neither of you do anything about their close proximity, and has half a mind to let Wanda go over there and sort things out. But she can’t afford to have a scene caused due her her affections for the two of you

   “The bitches will be in their heat soon, if you're looking to let your wolves have a bit of fun, I’m sure we could strike a deal”

  Her stomach sinks at the very clear implication, and based on how quickly she sees Wanda turn her head from the two of you back to her, she knows her girlfriend felt the same dread

   “I can assure you that they both come from good backgrounds genetically. And they've never laid with any Alphas before, your wolves would be the first, and presumably last.”

   “No thank you”

   He raised a brow, apparently surprised,“Are you certain? They seem like a good match.”

   “She said no” Wanda interjects, practically ready to go shove the mans wolves away from you and James

   Nat raises her hand to signal her girlfriend to contain herself, “The offer is very generous, but I must decline. I’m afraid that my wolves have yet to show interest in such a thing”

   “A little push surely wouldn’t hurt matters, but if you are sure in your decision then there's nothing I can do about it”

   “No, there isn’t” she affirms, signaling for her servants to bring out the humans. Her anger needed to be taken out on something, and this would also allow her to temper her hunger

   A row of chained nude men and women are led into the room and brought before the main table, prompting the Countess to stand and grab the ornate dagger. She makes her way to the first person and smirks, “This won’t be quick”

   Before he can even register it, the dagger is brought across his neck and he slumps backward as blood begins to pour from the wound, prompting the remaining humans to let out noises of shock and disdain. You and your mate can only stare in awe at her brutal efficiency. 

   “Who would like a taste?” she offers, beginning to take goblets shoved her way to fill

   You and James watch on as your Countess helps fill chalices for those that approach her, but suddenly a sharp movement to your left catches your attention. You turn to find a group of four men attempting to approach her, but something is off with them. They seem determined, focused. That's when you spot their gear, strategically hidden within their cloaks. Miniature crossbows and blades. 

   “James, we need to move. Now!” Your stern tone immediately has his attention and he turns in time to catch you shifting into your werewolf form. 

   You cause a bit of a commotion as you turn, pushing others down or shoving them away as your size increases and black fur begins to cover your body. People quickly make room for you, effectively halting the men you would soon be after in their tracks, as they are cut off or bumped into. 

   Seeing you transform, Wanda is on her feet at once, “Y/n?”

   Nats eyes move to you then, and her brows furrowed in confusion as she sees you in your werewolf form standing there on your hindlegs, towering over everyone. She only becomes more concerned when your lip curls back in a snarl and a deep growl emanates from your chest.

   “Hey! Control your mutt!” someone, who is quite obviously a vampire shouts, and a good amount of others begin to murmur in agreement 

  But it’s then James sees them too, as they all turn to lock eyes with you, “Go, I’m right behind you.”

   You lunge through the crowd, causing a surprised gasp of indignation to leave the vampires, who somehow still haven’t managed to sniff out the humans in their midst. But the roar-like sound that leaves you as your ears pin back quickly has them fleeing the area of whatever you have perceived as a threat. You land a few feet in front of the small group, and the room is quickly being cleared of all other guests and guards aside from those at the main table, effectively plugging up the rooms entryways and stopping more of the Countesses guards from rushing in

   “We ain't here for you!” the one shouts, “Move outta the way and I’ll reward you with your freedom!”

    Your growl at them and bare your teeth, obviously not swayed by such a thing, afterall Natasha was good to you. She fed you, clothed you, even let you have a room, and you'd never known what it was like to be on a chain or to be whipped. No, you had it good here, the best as far as werewolf standards could go. Plus, you were kinda hopelessly in love with her and her girlfriend, so to you and James, this was freedom.

   You stalk forward a few paces, and they all finally reveal their weapons, aiming them at you. Both Natasha and Wanda can feel their own lips curling back in snarls, showing off their fangs. Neither can tell though if it's due to the anger at the brazen attack or their protectiveness for you however.

   “We just want Romanoffs head” another one of them declares, chuckling, “It’s gonna look real nice on a pick in the center of town”

   It would seem that James wasn’t a fan of that idea either, because in only a few seconds he's shifted into his werewolf form as well and circles around to the groups one side. They seem a bit shocked by his telltale white fur, no doubt connecting it to the legends that run rampant of when he was younger and kill crazy under the service of another vampire named Vasily Karpov.

   “Certainly you recognize the white wolf as being the one your kind calls the Winter soldier” Natasha states, venom clear in her tone, “And as you can see, he is not alone. Surrender and I might spare these citizens their lives”

   A third man shakes his head, “We don’t make deals. We’re leaving here with your head”

   “You won’t be leaving at all” 

   Her comment is as good as a command, and you surge forward with a roar. The recognizable sound of a crossbow firing can be heard only seconds before your teeth are tearing into the soft flesh of the man's neck, and the metallic smell of blood fills the air. 

   Upon seeing this, two of the men attempt to scramble away, but James moves after them. He jumps on the first one, sinking his claws into his back as he bites down on the man's shoulder. He yells out a strangled cry for help before his neck is snapped by a large paw. The other man looks on in sheer horror as he frees his blade, it shakes in his hold but he's determined to not die without landing a blow

  “Come on then, come get some!”

   He lets out a growl that sounds rather like an amused chuckle before striking, tearing open the man's leg with his razor sharp claws. The man yells as he collapses, and he wildly swings his knife, catching your mate with the blade. It slides across his fur covered forearm leaving a small gash and terrible burning sensation in its wake. He quickly swats the blade from the man's grasp, breaking his wrist in the process before getting right up in his face. 

   He stares him down as he slowly bleeds out, having had his artery severed by claws not too long ago, but his attention quickly switches to you when the smell of your blood hits his nostrils…

   The man that had stayed near you instead of running had watched on in disgust as you ripped away a part of his friend's windpipe before dropping his body. And he knew as soon as your eyes locked onto him that he was next. He decides to be brave as you walk forward, and he fires another bolt into you. Unlike the earlier one that lodged itself in your shoulder, this one hits your abdomen, causing an involuntary whine to leave you as blood drips down to the stone floor. But you don’t allow this to slow you down, and you rush him before he has a chance to reload. He screams as your claws tear into him, ripping open his abdomen and spilling his guts. 

  But before you can finish him off, the pain sets in, and it's quite clear even in your animalistic state that the tips of the bolts had been silver. You recoil from him, letting out another whine as your paw wraps around the arrow in your shoulder, and you yank it out with all your might. 

   The pain nearly has you on all fours at this point, and James quickly rushes to you. His head rests in the crook of your neck as his tongue laps at your shoulder injury. You whine again, almost collapsing as the silver rushes through your bloodstream and Wanda finds she can’t hold back anymore

   She rushes over and carefully runs her hand through the black fur of your uninjured shoulder. Your head turns to her, and she swears she sees your eyes light up as you take in her presence. She watches as you sway, clearly weakened by this attack and she helps you lean into her. Though smaller in size, vampires are amazingly strong and she has no issues helping keep you upright. As she does so, the last of the crowd clears from the doorways, and the Countesses vampire guards make their way into the room. 

   “It's about time!” she shouts, trying to keep her worry for you under wraps, “Get the elders out of here and safely to their carriages, and put these humans back in the dungeons”

   “But, my Lady- ”

   “Go! My wolves took care of the threat and now the elders would like to be in their own castles, see that they at least get safely out of mine!”

   The nod, “Of course. At once”

   As soon as the room is empty, she rushes to join Wanda at your side, “How bad is it?”

   “She can hardly stand Tasha, I think it was silver” she admits, pulling away from your now human form

  The Countess frowns, knowing you must be really weak to allow that to happen just now. In all the years of knowing you, she's never seen you become human again in front of them, likely due to your nakedness. She rubs the fur of James shoulder to gain his attention, and he looks over at her

   “Can you carry her to our room?”

   Though confused, he nods and scoops you up into his arms. It agitates his own injury slightly, and he winces, but he powers through it easily.

    “Set her on the bed” Wanda tells him, and he does as he's told. Only he refuses to move away from you

   Natasha reaches up to rub his muzzle, “I know you're scared right now, but please James, I need you to step back so I can help her”

   His eyes move from her, to you and he takes a few hesitant steps to the side, giving her enough room to maneuver around you. There's still a bolt lodged in your abdomen that is likely causing an extreme amount of pain as well as letting silver remain inside you, but she can’t remove it. Not until she deals with your shoulder wound that's bleeding profusely

  “Just hang on, Y/n” she whispers, grabbing the cloth Wanda hands her. She presses it into the wound, causing you to whimper, “I know, I’m sorry.”

   Wanda hands her a blade then, and James watches in awe as the Countess slices open her own wrist, letting her own blood pour out. He knows she intends to offer it to you, as a vampire's blood has healing properties. But he also knows that this is completely unheard of. He's never known a vampire to allow a wolf in their bed like this, and he certainly knows that none have ever let themselves be fed off of by a wolf. He knew Natasha was a kind vampire to werewolves, much kinder than most, but still he can’t help but think that something different is going on here.

  “Y/n, I need you to drink, okay? Please.”

   You weakly take the wrist she has offered you, attaching your lips to her soft flesh and begin to let the coppery flavor of her blood wash over your tongue. 

   To your surprise, you immediately start to feel its effects as the pain in your shoulder numbs. And you're fairly certain you can feel the wound trying to close itself, something your healing factor normally wouldn't help with when silver was involved. She moves the cloth away with her free hand, and sure enough it's only a small injury now.

   "Okay, I'm going to pull this one out now" she says, gesturing to the bolt in your belly, "It's going to hurt"

  You nod and she pulls, causing you to grimace around her wrist. And honestly if she wasn't so worried about you, she would have been going insane over the feeling of your lips and teeth on her skin

  "That's it, keep drinking" she tells you, turning to look at her girlfriend, "Wanda, James is hurt too, let him drink from you"

  The brunette picks up the knife and holds it to her wrist before looking up at the looming white werewolf, "You can shift back if you'd like, unless you're more comfortable like that"

   His head tilts to the side like some confused dog as he thinks on it, before deciding to shift back. Wanda watches in amazement as he turns back into the man she's familiar with

   "There we go" she says with a smile, but before she can cut herself his hand in hers stops her

   "You don't have to. I appreciate it, and I appreciate you, my Lady, helping Y/n. But my injury isn't in a vital area. You don't need to"

   "James, Natasha helped Y/n because she cares. Deeply. As do I. And we feel the same about you. I don't care if it's not fatal or that it will eventually heal. I can help you not to hurt now, so I'm going to " she explains, effectively causing both his heart and yours to race

   "Okay"

   Wanda slices herself as soon as he lets go and gives him her wrist, "Now drink"

   As he does as he's told, Nat removes her wrist from your mouth as she looks you over. She tries not to let her eyes wander, only intending to make sure your injuries are closed, but when she sees your v line and happy trail she can't help but glance further down. She bites the inside of her lip to hold back a groan, because even soft you're bigger than she's ever had the pleasure of taking. But your voice pulls her eyes and attention away

   "Thank you. You didn't have to save me"

   "Of course I did" her eyes soften as she looks at you, and you swear you're dreaming when her hand cups the side of your face, "I couldn't let you die. Besides, you saved me tonight too"

   You can't help but be confused, "But that's my duty to you as your guard. You…you don't have that duty"

   "I don't. But Wanda's right, I care about you and about James far more than a Countess should. And I have felt this way for a very long time. As has Wanda" she explains, leaning closer, “And I think, the two of you feel the same way”

   “We do” you admit, your heart fluttering as you get lost in her intense gaze

   She smiles, “Good, then you won’t mind me doing this”

   She leans in and captures your lips with her own, and you move your hand to cup the back of her head to ensure she stays there. Her lips are so plush, and they fit perfectly against your own. It’s better than you ever imagined, and when her tongue prods your lip for entrance, you eagerly allow it. You then wrap your arms around her waist to pull her even closer, causing her to let out a soft moan. The scene practically has James’s jaw hanging open

   “Why let them have all the fun?” Wanda says, bringing him out of his daze and offering him her hand now that he's done drinking from her

   He swiftly takes it and she leads him to the other side of the bed. Before she can say or do anything however, his hands grasp her hips and pull her against him. She lets out a small sound of surprise before he leans in, pressing his lips against hers in an awaited kiss. Without realizing it, he leans her backwards, letting her come to rest on the mattress below.

   When all four of you finally pull away from each other, James helps Wanda out of her dress and jewels while you do the same with the redhead above you. With all four of you finally able to see each other fully, you each silently study the other. Each of you intends to take in every freckle and scar, committing them to memory before giving in and worshiping each other. 

   Natasha makes the first move, smirking at you seductively before effortlessly flipping your positions. With you now on top of her she guides your hands to her body, “Make me feel good, baby”

   Your hands begin to caress her sides, slowly making their way up to her chest while your mouth kisses along her jawline. When your hands finally cup her breasts, your mouth has moved to her collarbone, where you leave a few of your own marks beside some of Wanda's older ones. The Countess shudders in anticipation as her core throbs, spilling her essence to the bedsheets below. 

   Beside you, James does similarly. His hands squeeze the brunette's tits while his mouth trails the valley between them, leaving kisses in his wake. Wanda squirms beneath him, a flushed mess as she feels her arousal drip between her thighs. She's honestly surprised by her girlfriend's patience, as hers has run out.

   “James” she calls out, her voice a bit raspier than usual. His eyes glance up at her but his mouth never leaves her chest, "I need you lower"

   He eagerly obliges and slides himself further down pressing gentle kisses against her bare stomach before settling before her mound. His eyes darken as he sees how wet she already is, and his tongue darts out to taste her.

  “Ooh” she moans as his tongue gently parts her folds and enters her awaiting hole. He swirls the muscle around before pulling back to suck on her clit, causing her to clench around nothing, “Feels so good, baby”

   He hums at the praise, causing her to roll her hips against him as she seeks out more pleasure. He obliges by pushing his tongue back inside her, letting her walls squeeze him as his nose brushes against her bundle of nerves.

   Hearing her girlfriend moan beside her has Natasha eager for the same treatment. But she needs not wait long, as you're already busy marking up her plush thighs.

   “Y/n…” she sighs as you test her patience, so you finally give into both of your desires

   You practically dive in, attaching your lips to her clint instantly, earning yourself a loud moan from the woman. She quickly brings one her hands to tangle in your hair to hold you close as the other hand twists up the sheets

   “Fuck….just like that” she encourages, scratching lightly at your scalp, “Good girl”

   Her juices drip down your chin as you slip your tongue inside her, causing more sounds of pleasure to come from her. They mix with Wandas as you both work on getting them to come undone.

   It’s not long before both vampires are writhing, their muscles tightening as they begin to reach the peak of their bliss. You and James increase the pace of your mouth's movements as you both hold down their thighs to avoid being crushed.

   “Fuck!” Wanda shouts as she treats your mate to a gush of her cum, which he happily swallows

   The sounds of her girlfriend coupled with your motions is enough to have Nat falling over the edge as well, “Oh god!”

   Her grip on your hair tightens as you continue your movements for a bit, until she slumps back against the bed. Though neither of you want to, you both pull away, not wanting to overstimulate either woman. They both look at you and JAmes through hooded eyes, clearly still blissed out as smiles grace their features

   You and your mate share a similar smile as you glance at each other, clearly forming an unspoken plan with each other. This plan is put in motion quickly as the two of you trade places on the bed, allowing you to each slide between the legs of the other woman you’ve yet to please, and taste.

   You effortlessly wrap your arms around Wanda's thighs and pull her close to you, making her moan deeply as your lips make contact with her still sensitive pussy. Natasha makes a similar sound as James’ tongue slides inside her. You both work at the same pace as before, making both women shudder as their second orgasms quickly approach. Wanda's hand instinctively reaches out to grab her girlfriend's hand, and they both shout out your names as they cum again. You both help work them through it before pulling away to let them calm down.

   It takes them a moment to regain their composure, but once they do, Natasha is sure to praise you both, “They did so good for us, didn't they detka(baby)?”

   “They sure did. Took such good care of us” Wanda agrees, reaching down to affectionately stroke your cheek

  Natasha hums in agreement, “I think it's time to take care of them, don’t you agree?”

  “Oh yes” 

   You and James watch them with anticipation as they stand from the bed, gesturing at where they once were laying. You quickly understand the implication and both move up the mattress to take their places. They both eye you hungrily as they realize you're both hard, and both leaking precum.

   Natasha moves to straddle James, reaching down to grab his cock. She gently wraps her fingers around it, causing him to moan as she jerks him off. His head leans back against the pillows as she presses his tip against her entrance, and she then moans as he slips inside. She slowly sinks down, bracing herself with her hands on his chest as he bottoms out inside her

   “Fuck…” he whimpers as his hands move to her hips, “You feel so good”

   She smiles down at him, “Mmm, so do you. Filling me so well.”

   As she begins to rock her hips, Wanda makes her way to you, straddling your lap with a confident smirk. She strokes your cock as she lines herself up with you, and you both moan in unison as she begins to sink down on you. Your hands cup her breasts in effort to add to her pleasure as hers rest against your abdomen, and she whimpers as stills against your hips

   “So big” she mutters, not used to anything other than Natashas fingers inside her

   With your ego boosted you smile up at her with a cocky grin, “You think we’re big now, you should see us in our other form”

   The thought alone has them both clenching around you, causing both you and James to moan as their movements increase in speed. An your mate glances over at you with a knowing look

   “I think they like the sound of that” you tease, only to be shut up by the brunettes lips on your own

   “Damn right we do” Natasha admits, still eagerly riding James’ cock, “After Wans and I make you two see stars, we want you wolf forms to claim us. You don’t need Omegas now that you have us.”

   James grunts at her words and tightens his on her hips, she's almost sure it’ll bruise and that excites her, “Does that sound good, handsome? Does the idea of knocking us up excite you?”

   “Yes…” he breathes out as his cock twitches inside her, “We’ve never wanted Omegas, only the two of you”

   Wanda pulls away from you, looking into your eyes as she continues her hips movements, “Yeah?”

   “Yeah” you assure, wrapping an arm around her waist, “All we ever thought about was you two”

   At your confession, Natasha leans over and connects her lips to James’ while the brunette on top of you cups your face. Even without words, it's clear the sentiment is the same for the two of them. Besides each other, all they thought of was the two of you. And that paired with they way they both still ride you, neither of you will last much longer.

   “Fuck…Wanda, I’m gonna cum” you grit out, trying to hold yourself back until you know she's close as well

   She moans at your words and her walls tighten around you, “Go on baby, cum in me”

    With her permission you unload inside of her, sending her over the edge directly after you. You hold her close as you thrust your hips upward, helping her ride through her orgasm.

   Beside you, Natasha pants, quickly approaching her own climax, “Thats it, being such a good boy for me. Keep going, I’m so close”

   He nods in understanding, “Me too. God…I’m gonna fill you up” 

   Natasha moans loudly, cumming all over his cock at his words, but his hands continue to guide her in her movements until he spills inside her. She practically collapses against him once he's finished, and he runs a soothing hand through her hair.

   A few minutes pass before the four of you have caught your breath, but once you have, you look over at the redhead resting against your mate, “Did you mean what you said? About our wolf forms?”

   She reaches out to caress her girlfriends back, who still lays on your chest, before answering, “Yes. We want you both in every way we can have you. Right, dorogoy(darling)?”

   “Right” she answers, kissing your chest, “Please Y/n?”

   James looks over at you, “Come on, love. If they want to be ours, who are we to deny them that?”

   You nod, “You're right”

   The two of you carefully move the two girls off of you as you stand, and once they’re situated you both make your way to the foot of the bed. James gently grabs your waist and pulls you against him before leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. You eagerly lean into it and wrap your arms around his neck to keep him close for a moment

   After the two of you break apart you walk away from the bed a bit to ensure there's enough space before shifting forms. The two vampires watch in awe as you both transform, and their jaws nearly drop as they take in the size of your still erect cocks.

   You both walk over to the bed, eyeing them as if they were prey. Which, in a way, they were. Just not the kind to be attacked or eaten, but the kind to be claimed. You lick your maw as you climb above the Countess, and she reaches out to stroke the fur covering your chest.

   “Come on, baby. Use me.”

   As soon as the words leave her mouth you reach out your large paws to flip her over, showing off her ass to you. She gets the idea and moves to be on all fours below you, and you eagerly bend over her. She can feel your throbbing member resting just against her folds and grinds back into you, showing how eager she is for you.

   Seeing the position you have her girlfriend in, Wanda quickly moves to get in the same one, hoping to entice James to come to her faster. Her plan works and he moves to hover over her. He gently licks the back of her shoulder as he lines himself up with her and he pushes his tip against her pussy.

    She moans loudly and pulls at the sheets as he pushes himself further inside her, stretching her open even further than she had been on your human cock earlier. He stills for a moment to let her adjust to the new size, only continuing to move once her breathing evened out. Now fully inside her, he lets out a possessive growl and drops a bit more of his body weight on top of her as he waits for you and Natasha to catch up.

   Seeing how your mate has already mounted Wanda, you move your hips back slightly before moving them forward again and you slowly begin to slide into the woman beneath you. She moans and reaches out to grab ahold of one of your giant paws to help ground herself as you inch forward until you're all the way inside her and you thank her by softly licking her neck

   “Please” Wanda whimpers, moving to look at James the best she can in her current position, “Please fuck me”

   With a grunt he begins to move, slamming his hips into hers without little care for how rough his movements may be. His sole focus now is on his pleasure, and filling the brunette with his seed. His powerful thrusts have Wanda a mess beneath him, and all she can do is make sounds of pleasure as his cock pulses inside of her.

   Below you, Natasha wiggles her hips in an attempt to entice you, “Come on Y/n, please”

   You thrust your hips forward with a growl and move your paw to be on top of the hand that was once holding onto you as you start to pound into her. Noises similar to Wandas leave her as your movements never falter and she nearly screams in pleasure when you brush up against her cervix

   “Oh god….oh god” Wanda mumbles, feeling her own arousal drip down her thighs as she approaches her third orgasm of the evening, “Don’t stop”

   He grunts as he increases his pace, proving to her that he had no intention of doing such a thing. He can feel her walls tighten around him, which only spurs him on. He lowers his head next to hers, letting her hear him pant against her ear which proves to be enough to tip her over the edge

   “James!” she shouts, and he nuzzles against her as she shakes but continues to fuck her, not planning on stopping until his knot is buried inside her. 

   Your hips slam into Natashas with a similar roughness, causing the redhead to whimper. She tries her best to force her hips back to meet your thrusts, intent on chasing her next orgasm that's oh so close. And all it takes to send her over is your other paw moving to grab at her chest

   “Oh fuck! Y/n!” she yells as her walls squeeze you in a way nothing ever has before. But you don’t let up either, only thinking about locking your knot into place so you can fill her properly.

    The two of you continue to rut into them with such force that has their arms nearly giving out, but neither cares too much as you both have their eyes rolling to the back of their heads and drool dripping down their chins. Neither has ever felt pleasure this intensely before, and they honestly aren't sure they ever want it to stop. But just as that thought crosses their minds they can feel themselves approaching their climax once again, and they are eager to be filled with potent werewolf cum.

    “Please, please, please” Wanda begs, grasping the sheets so hard its a wonder they don’t tear, “Please knot me, please”

    James grunts, a bit surprised at first that she knows enough about werewolf anatomy and breeding to know of a knot, but when he remembers their admittance of wanting this for a long time he gets the idea that they may have looked into it just to understand the two of you better. And that thought has his knot instantly growing. It slams into Wanda's pussy a few times, and feeling how big it is she nearly changes her mind, but with a final hard shove from him, it slips inside her

   “Ooh god!” she moans as his hot cum practically pours inside her, sending her into her yet another orgasm

   As Nat watches Wanda practically collapse from exhaustion and pleasure  her excitement of being knotted by you nearly doubles and she does her best to turn her head to face you

   “Please baby, I want your knot.” she whimpers, “I need it”

   Her admittance has your knot growing, and she can’t help but moan as it slams against her. Then, without warning it slips inside fully and locks into place, and she swears she cums so hard she sees white as your seed seemingly endlessly pumps into her. She also practically collapses, so you and James both ease them into a prone position as you both gently lay on top of them, and without meaning to they both begin to drift off.

   By the time they come back around, you and JAmes are human again, and are spooning them from behind. Large smiles envelope their faces as they realize that you both not only stayed but you had also cleaned them up a bit

   “Ah, you're awake” James says from behind Wanda. She hums in acknowledgement but its NAtasha that speaks

   “Hopefully not for long. Just wanted to check on the two of you”

   “We’re fine, love” you assure, pressing a kiss to her still bare shoulder, “And we aren’t going anywhere”

   “Besides, how much safer could the two of you be now that your guards sleep in the same bed as you” James teases, causing all of you to chuckle

   “Promise you’ll be here?” Wanda mumbles, clearly only moments away from returning to slumber

   James squeezes her a bit tighter as you answer, “We promise”

   She give you a sleepy smile, “I love you all”

   “Love you too detka(baby)” Nat replies before James and you answer in unison

   “We love you too”

   Nat smiles as her girlfriend closes her eyes, “I also love you both”

   “And we love you too” you answer

   “Indeed we do” James says, nearly drifting off to sleep himself

   “Sleep now” Nat tells him, turning to look at you, “You as well.”

   “Mkay” you admit with a yawn, pulling her even closer

   And as the Countess feels the love and warmth of her three lovers around her, she knows that any risks that come with such a relationship, potential hybrid children and all, will be absolutely worth it if it means she gets to have this for the rest of time

[sommerregenjuniluft]

@jegulus-microfic june 20 - response - 2623 words - nsfw content!

about love against all odds feat. injury related prematurely retired football player james that settled and raised a son and international football star regulus

for regulus pencil mustache truther @veryinnovative, my football (players) loving wife @rottin6 and my number 1 enabler @itmeanssungod

James is kneeling behind Harry on a picnic blanket with Lily when their last guests arrive. “There they are!” Sirius’ voice carries easily over the meadow and just as expected a few seconds later there’s a big, black scrub of a panting dog in front of them, curious to see what Harry and James are up to, which is flying a kite. 

“Oh my God– Hi!” Lily says, getting up. Which is a bit enthusiastic for the fact that they’ve seen Sirius and Remus only last weekend and should have been James’ first clue. Though, admittedly, he was a bit busy angling the kite and also angling Harry’s face away from Padfoot’s butt to avoid suffocation.

“Moony couldn’t make it today unfortunately,” Sirius says, closer now, “but I’ve brought substitution.”

James isn’t proud of the way his entire upper body whips around, Harry included, who lets out a small yelp at the sudden motion. “Sorry, mate. Sorry. I’m—”

Lily is already there to take over, nudging James to get up who’s working very hard on closing his jaw and not staring like an idiot.

Because standing there besides his brother is Regulus. Hands shoved into the pockets of his slacks, paired with a simple back t-shirt and green Adidas trainers. He does not look like he belongs onto a colourful picnic blanket in a park in London yet there he is.

He’s sporting a pencil stach now. Regulus had been convinced Sirius had already used up all the genetic material for pronounced body hair on the first way around, leaving behind very little for his younger brother. James, being on the hairier side as well, used to tease him about it endlessly back when they were in school. But it seemed to develop now in his late twenties. James has only seen it on the TV in a few matches and on one or two instagram posts but the real deal is even worse. Regulus looks criminally hot with it. The whole picture of lithe muscle, strong quads and stronger calves, curly hair, the occasional tattoo. He’s every young heterosexual woman’s wet european football boyfriend dream and James’ gut is swooping.

“Reg.”

“Hi, James,” Regulus responds, much more articulated, sporting a hint of a smirk. 

Oh, he— “Bastard,” James mutters, low enough so Harry behind him won’t hear and then he’s grinning and yanking Regulus into a firm hug.

They all have a late lunch together at a nearby restaurant and Regulus is patiently letting Harry talk his ears off about Ninjago and preschool and Ron and Moine. Lily is taking him over the weekend and James bids his goodbye with a loud smooch to his son’s cheek. 

And just as James is about to invent a crazy, elaborate story about how he has something back at his house he’d meant to show Regulus for ages without making it interesting enough for Sirius to tag along, this one simply taps two fingers against his eyebrow in a mock salute before making his way in the other direction, Padfoot trotting along dutifully. “Why do you think I hid him from you all Thursday? Have fun, kids!”

Regulus groans pathetically and turns to hide his face into James’ shoulder.

“I told you we can’t keep it a secret from him forever. He probably knew all along,” James chuckles and takes Regulus’ duffel, “C’mon, love.”

It starts in the elevator up, is a wonder they make it past the hallway and into the bedroom. It’s very much overdue and heated and desperate all the way through. 

James might or might not have pinned Regulus one too many times into the mattress and offhandedly commented something along the line’s of Regulus being his and cuffing him to the bed if he needs to. And it’d worked because Regulus had moaned so prettily, eyelids fluttering and hips bucking, cock twitching and all James could think about then was where’s the fucking lube.

Saying that, he doesn’t quite expect Regulus to bring it up after the fact.

James is absolutely blissed out, breathing only just levelling out as he traces the shape of Regulus’ kiss bitten lips.

“You know I can’t stay, Jamie.”

He shrugs easily, kneading Regulus’ muscled thigh where it’s slung over his hip, “We’ll come with you then.”

“To Portugal?” Regulus’ eyebrows rise as he props himself on his elbow, his tone flat. “And then to France in a couple of months when I switch clubs? I don’t think that’s such a good idea given Harry is five.”

“Au contraire—”

Regulus rolls his eyes and slaps him on the naked shoulder. “Moving every few years? And during the nationals not to mention,” he tucks an errant strand of hair back from James’ forehead, “Multiple continents, who knows which timezone. That’s no life for a child, James. And I haven’t even brought up Lily yet. She’s just as much part of his life as you are and it works out wonderfully for the time being with you two living so close. It’s what Harry deserves.”

And deep down James knows Regulus is right. And if he’s completely honest with himself, it isn’t the life he truly wants for himself either. That’s why he’s here and Regulus is out there. James knows it isn’t what’s best for Harry nor for himself and yet. And yet no matter how many times they have this conversation it seems endlessly irrelevant when Regulus is looking down at him this way. The shine of the sunset through the window is catching in his pillow mussed curls, in the dark lashes framing his blue silver eyes and rivalling the flush of his skin with its own red hue and James thinks Regulus looks like home. Like anything he could still want in life besides what precious he already has.

James heaves a heavy sigh and hungrily swerves his eyes over every single of Regulus’ features, committing them to memory. Because that’s all that’s gonna stay when Regulus inevitably leaves again. But that’s not what James wants to think about right now though.

“Regulus.”

“Yes?”

“Shut up,” James replies happily and pulls Regulus in by the back of his nape before his indignant expression can even fully form. Every single one of Regulus’ helpless sounds get swallowed eagerly and filed away for later. For a moment James is tempted to ask Regulus if he can get out his phone and record but he thinks better of it.

They have sex for hours. 

James sucks all coherency out of Regulus through his cock and then fucks him so stupid, legs spread and pushed into the mattress, spit pooling out of the corner of his mouth, tears wetting his cheeks, cum smearing across his stomach, that he gets him to promise to stay. It’s futile and just a heat of the moment thing but it drives James so wild he almost blacks out when he eventually spills deep inside of him. There’s black dots and stars dancing in his vision when he watches it leak back out of Regulus’ puffy hole and a strange sense of satisfaction and dread mixing in his belly. 

After a quick entangled and still very much nude power nap James arranges them a platter of fruit and crackers and cheeses. They shower and James changes the sheets only for Regulus to prop himself up on his side and watch intently as he edges James until he’s the one whining and crying. He’s using ridiculous amounts of lube, his hand is so warm and slick and squeezing just right and his thumb is swiping teasingly along the slit exactly how it makes James go insane and then he’s taking his hand away and James curses, already feeling another tear running down his cheek. His thighs are trembling, his knuckles turning white where he’s clinging to the headboard. Regulus is staring at him out of lidded, expectant eyes and James’ dick is aching and it’s all so sick and hot James has to bite his tongue hard not to tell Regulus he loves him right then and there. 

He’s shown mercy, at last. Regulus makes him cum down his throat and over his face, there’s milky white running down the side of Regulus nose and James pulls him in with shaky arms for a downright nasty kiss.

They sleep until 2pm the next day and have a lovely, slow day bickering in the grocery store isles, preparing dinner together and not at all watching the movie that’s on the TV while they make out and frot on the couch like teenagers. Like back when they were teenagers. 

Sunday morning Lily brings Harry before she’s heading out to brunch with her FLINTA boxing club and James’ heart riots in his chest when he watches how easily and adorably Regulus and Harry interact. 

They meet up with Sirius and then drive Regulus to the airport together.

Goodbye is a bumpy thing. Harry is pure popcorn caramel sweetness between Regulus’ knees when he crouches down to hug him and James’ embrace, he knows, is much longer than socially acceptable. He vaguely notices Sirius distracting Harry, babbling to him about the stuffed toy assortment from a nearby shop as Regulus and James hold onto each other like they’re in a long distance relationship and not…well, whatever it is they can afford to be with Regulus visiting the country about three to five times a year.

There’s a fist clenched in the soft material of his t-shirt and James buries his nose in the curls of Regulus’ temple and inhales deeply. A spot he’s going to see sweat soaked on a flat screen and not getting to smell or touch or kiss for the unforeseeable future. At least that’s what he thinks for now.

Eventually they part and after a strong, swaying hug from Sirius and a few words about making him proud out on the field and seeing that physiotherapist about his shoulder and a safe flight Regulus is gradually disappearing into the distance with the grating velocity of your standard airport escalator. James doesn’t know who thought it was a good idea to be able to watch a loved one slip through your fingers at this agonising tempo but he’d like to have a word with them. His heart clenches in his chest, his lip already feels raw from worrying it with his teeth and James thinks, the warm weight of his son pressed to his chest, that, even though it might not seem that way, Harry is probably more holding him right now than the other way around.

And life’s a funny thing sometimes. 

Because, like every time when Regulus bids his goodbye, leaving behind not exactly shards but rather yet another pin in James’ heart, wrapped around by a red string Regulus indisputably, invariably takes along across the ocean every time, it bleeds and burns and burns so badly that they get ice cream. Sirius slaps him between the shoulder blades, pays for his chocolate mint and hazelnut, tells him he’s such a dad for his choice and, together with Harry, tries distracting him as best as he can manage. 

And so begins a week of moping and then one and a half of delusion and overcompensation, full of fun trips and adventures, and then another few of avoidance, full of social media free zones and grinding through work and scheduling all kinds of appointments to fill their freetime until—

Until one day he can’t avoid it anymore.

A bright, blinking LED sign in the form of an incoming call on his phone screen that’s making James’ heart stutter in his chest. He’s just sat back down in front of his computer in his home study after lunch break and started wiggling an USB stick into a port when the vibrations had made his head shoot up.

It’s just the three letters of Reg and a silly photo of when he was seventeen, pulling a face at James taking a picture of him on his digital camera.

Regulus never calls.

James isn’t sure he’s breathing.

It’s barely been about two months, not close to visiting time again, and Regulus usually never calls so James sits there absolutely dumbstruck and convinced the universe is pulling a sick joke on him.

The call ends abruptly and James blinks harshly. He fumbles for his phone and clicks into his call history. Incoming call from Reg in red font, signalising it’s been missed, followed by the exact time of the day it is at the moment. 

James presses on the little phone icon.

It only rings once before there’s a voice on the other side of the line.

“James?” Regulus sounds slightly breathless. James hasn’t heard his voice over the line in about seven years.

“Yeah?” James says back. His heart is pounding in his chest, his blood rushing in his ears. Then James realises he should probably say something more. “Err, Hi. I’m—” he sighs, clicks his tongue, clears his throat, tries again. “Did you just call me?” “Hi,” Regulus says back, still breathless and it sort of sounds like he’s smiling. James blinks again. “Yeah, yeah. I did call.”

“Oh,” James makes. His heart does a little spin in his chest. “Uh, what’s up?”

“I’m coming to England,” Regulus declares, giggling. James’ heart tries to leap out of his chest at the sound.

“Cool, cool. You got another away game?” He winces, closes his eyes, “Sorry, I haven’t been keeping up with your matches lately.”

“No, James, I’m– wait. Okay, rude, first of all—”

James snorts and rolls his eyes, now grinning against the phone as well. “Sue a guy for being heartbroken.”

“Yeah, I just might,” Regulus quips. “But…what I was initially going to say is, No, James, I’m not having an away game in England.”

“No?” James asks, confused. Nationals are still a while away so that can’t be it.

“No. I’m having a home game in England,” and James wonders how something so soft spoken can pack such an ear-ringing gutpunch.

“I’m— Regulus, what,” James stands up, his chair loudly scraping against the hardwood floor. “Are you saying…”

A single chuckle works its way out of Regulus and over the line to James, “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

James’ heart is sprinting away from him. He’s sweating. His breath is coming faster and he feels like he should run a lap around the property. Or six. “Regs, love, please spell it out for me because I’m not entirely sure I just hallucinated what you—”

“Arsenal made me an offer,” Regulus says and James hears angels singing in the background, “A better one.”

“Oh, fucking Christ,” James pinches the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead, “Reg, I swear to God if you’re joking right now I’m personally flying over and—”

An exasperated noise, grin evident in his voice nonetheless, “I’m being honest, James, God’s sake. You can fucking look it up online, they probably already posted about it.”

A breath punches out of James, he sinks back down into his desk chair. There’s a polaroid of him and Regulus from Halloween a few years back, alien and a scientist. It was a fucking mess scrubbing all that green paint off again and it didn’t help that Regulus abandoned his sponge in favor of grabbing at James’ hardness through his briefs. It had been the first night they kissed since they were teenagers. 

With a sudden clarity, all the tension floods out of James’ body with a slightly delirious laugh and he leans his cheek into the warmed glass of his phone screen, “You’re coming home.”

Regulus sounds equally giddy, equally drunk on love and fate. “Yeah, Jamie, I’m coming home.”

[made-by-moon]

I cannot stop thinking about how after they managed their animagus forms, the marauders would constantly make fun of each other for it. They would especially target poor Sirius.

James: Can you fetch me salt?

Sirius: Sure, mate *passes him salt*

James: Awww good boy Sirius, good boy *pats him on the head*

The thing is that Sirius would kinda enjoy it (?!?!?). Like, who wouldn’t enjoy being praised for the small things yk. Especially Sirius after...his home life...He would never admit it, tho. NEVER

[vinylfoxbooks]

October 13 - Wave | @into-the-jeggyverse | wc: 963 Implied NSFW at the end

Regulus hates this. He hates the beach, Sirius knows that. And yet he still dragged his little brother along on his little vacation trip with his friends -- and it’s not like he had the courtesy to invite any of Regulus’ friends. 

The sun is too hot, there’s sand in places that Regulus would rather not talk about, the children that are everywhere are loud and running along the beach, and he’s so pale, that he has to hide in the shade otherwise he’ll end up cherry red and in pain -- Sirius doesn’t seem to care about it, despite being just as pale as his brother, though Remus is pushing to make sure Sirius walks out of this only slightly burnt. Regulus would like to read his book but all of the conditions are preventing him from doing just that. 

Specifically the one condition of James running around without a shirt on. 

Regulus is but a mere gay man, and James is built like a literal god. Who gave them the right to walk around without a shirt on when they’re built like that. All of their tattoos are on display -- mind you, Regulus didn’t previously know that James had any tattoos other than the ones visible on their arms -- and they’re laughing and messing around with Sirius in the water shoving each other into the waves, making their swim shorts stick to their thighs and water glisten on their skin. And, fuck, the reminder that they’re his when he sees the engagement ring sitting on his finger.

“You look like you might combust.” Remus muses from next to Regulus, bookmarking his own book, “Are you alright?”

“Mhm.”

“You’ve never been to the beach with James, have you?” Regulus shakes his head and the older laughs, “You poor thing. Just don’t let the jealousy get to you.” “What do you mean?” 

Remus hums and gestures to the beach around him, “I mean, we’re in a place full of half-clothed people, many are probably single or teens that think they might have a chance with him and I mean… you can admit how your fiance looks.”

Regulus feels his face heating just a bit at the mention of his relationship with James, “If people start flirting with them, we’re never going to the beach again.”

The older barks out a laugh, “You and I both know that they’re too oblivious to realise that people are flirting with them.”

“That makes it worse.” Regulus pouts. Remus laughs and is going to say more, but Sirius comes up to them and starts dripping water onto his boyfriend, taking a second to shake out his hair like a dog and spraying water all over them, which gets him yelled at by both. 

Not long after that, James comes up to them and takes a towel to run it through their hair -- like a civilised human being, unlike his brother -- before moving to settle down on the large towel Regulus has sat on, “Hi baby. Enjoying the beach?”

“Not really.” Regulus hums, “But you seem to be having a good time.” 

James smiles but doesn’t otherwise respond, leaning down to pull him into a quick kiss, “You can always head back to the house, you don’t need to hang out here if you don’t want to be here.”

“You say that like Sirius won’t force me to stay here.”

James hums, “I can get him to let you go, you’ve spent two hours here, that should be enough for him. Could you grab me the fruit?” Regulus nods and fishes around in the mini cooler that they brought, pulling out the plastic container of fruit that he and James cut up earlier, handing it to his fiance. James thanks him quickly and starts eating, feeding a couple blueberries to Regulus when requested.

The rest of the day goes alright. Regulus stays at the beach to monitor the people that approach his partner, only to be shocked when a woman around his age walks up to him and starts flirting with him, which Remus snorts at. And while Regulus is fully aware of what is happening, he isn’t quite sure how to respond because of all the people at the beach right now, why would someone want to flirt with him? The antisocial, ‘sickly victorian boy’ in Sirius’ words, that has been huddled in the shade the entire time with as much skin covered as possible -- in the back of his mind, he can hear Remus remarking that some people are into his look while gesturing to James. 

Just as he’s figuring out how to tell the girl that he’s very not into women, James comes storming up to them. They smile softly at Regulus and sit down next to him, wrapping their arms around his shoulders, “Hey baby, who’s this?” And Regulus gets the delight of watching as realisation dawns on the girl. She stammers out an excuse to leave and walks away to where her friends are sitting, watching them and giggling. 

“Were you jealous?” Regulus asks as soon as she’s out of earshot. 

James hums, “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You just looked uncomfortable.”

“Mhm,” Remus nods, “And you don’t want to go back to the house right now?” And James’ face lights up at the suggestion and they nod frantically. Regulus laughs and leans up to kiss them before pulling them to a stand. James goes easily. They say their temporary goodbyes to Remus -- who laughs, probably knowing what is going on -- and waves to them, telling them that they’ll explain to Sirius. Then James is practically pulling Regulus to the vacation house that the group rented. 

Regulus thinks he’s starting to like the beach, so long as he’s the one being flirted with.

[ellecdc]

ive been thinking about stone-faced unamused independent reader and how james and barty would absolutely love to baby her and treat her like a princess and she has none of it..until shes feeling sort of down and like she needs their love and support so she gives in and theyre both so shocked and excited theyre like little dogs wagging their tails spinning around her

hiii....I'm back to apologizing to everyone who sent me in requests 2.5+ months ago for me to hoard them until inspiration struck! hope I did it justice hahaha

poly!darksun x black cat!reader and Sirius who just doesn't Get It

CW: fem!reader, reader is maybe a little mean but obviously James and Barty are into that shit, Sirius' POV so a very unreliable narrator

Sirius Black believed himself to be a pretty open-minded person.

He believed that love was love, he staunchly disagreed with blood status and had a lot of respect for muggle-borns, and believed in the fair treatment of beasts and other magical creatures in the Wizarding World.

But no matter how open-minded Sirius believed himself to be, he could not for the life of him figure out how in the hells James Potter and Barty Crouch Junior found their way to you.

Sirius admittedly had a hard enough time finding out that his best friend was dating his semi-estranged little brother’s maniacal (read: bat-shit crazy) best friend, but this? 

This made no sense to him. 

At least when it came to the likes of Barty Crouch Junior, James had found someone who could rival him in energy and enthusiasm. James could run for seven hours straight at a gods-honest sprint and Barty was just about crazy enough to try as well. Barty never denied his more intrusive thoughts and James was morbidly curious enough to watch those thoughts play out.

And both of them seemed to love hard; even if Sirius didn’t approve of that love, even if he didn’t like that love, he could admit that it, at the very least, made sense for him.

But where James was all golden retriever energy and Barty was some kind deranged, rabid mutt straight from the depths of hell, you….

Well, Sirius wasn’t sure exactly what you were. 

Where James was sweet and Barty was enthusiastic, you were utterly unimpressed. 

Where James was excitable and Barty was chaotic, you were completely apathetic.

And where James and Barty could be…slightly codependent, you seemed wholly disinterested in having either of them (or anyone for that matter) near you. 

“Sod off; I can carry my own damned books.” You had spat at Barty as he tried to take them from you. 

And Sirius had to stand there and watch both Barty and James stare after you with a lovesick look adorning their faces as you stalked away from them. 

“Well isn’t she just a ray of sunshine?” Sirius muttered derisively, earning him a threatening glare from Barty and a frustrated stare from James.

“You’re one to talk, Pads; I watched Remus actually growl at a first year who tried to take the last pumpkin pastie at dinner last night.” He grumbled before redirecting Barty away from Sirius’ jugular. 

And that seemed to be your response to pretty much anything those two did; you elbowed James in the stomach when he held the door open for you like a ‘poncy chauffeur’, you stomped on Barty’s foot when he offered you his elbow on the moving staircase, and you never seemed particularly pleased should they wind up in your vicinity.

Yet…

Yet you never made any effort to actually remove them from your vicinity, nor did you make any effort to leave theirs.

In fact, if Sirius wasn’t mistaken, he was sure he saw your shoulders relax ever so slightly when you realised the people pulling out the chair across from you in the library were James and Barty. 

They tensed right back up when Sirius and Peter accompanied them, but that's besides the point.

No, you didn’t converse with any  of them. Yes, you completely ignored any attempts at conversation from James or Barty - save taking the opportunity to correct them in their debate about their potions homework. And just once, Sirius was certain he’d heard you whisper a quiet thank you to Barty when he helped you find the page number for the answer to number 47 of your Herbology homework. 

It seemed to Sirius that no matter how staunchly you refused to allow either boy to fawn over you, you weren’t completely averse to their company. And though this amount of dedication didn’t exactly surprise Sirius coming from James, seeing as he spent four and half years of his school life pursuing a completely disinterested witch, he was confused that Barty hadn’t gotten bored yet.

It was all very peculiar, Sirius thought. 

Even more peculiar was when Barty and James had been snuggling in James’ bed as James quizzed Moony for the upcoming Alchemy test when there was a tentative knock on the dormitory door. 

Peter looked up from his Ancient Runes homework to look at Sirius, James and Barty lifted their heads to look at Sirius, and Remus turned in his desk chair to look at Sirius.

“What?” Sirius asked. “I didn’t knock.”

“You’re the only one not currently doing anything.” Remus countered.

Sirius paused in his throwing and catching of James’ pilfered snitch to look at him incredulously.

“I am too doing something.” He argued, holding the snitch between his thumb and forefinger and waving it at him. “Besides, Junior’s just laying there.”

“I’m a guest, Black. It’d be terribly improper for me to answer your dormitory door.”

“Answer the sodding door, Sirius.” Remus grumbled as he turned back towards James.

“A ray of sunshine.” James sing-songed for Sirius’ benefit, clearly still not over his passing comment of you from days ago. 

Sirius let out a dramatically petulant sigh as he stood to open the door.

Your face pinched when you saw who had answered, though Sirius had to hand it to you how quickly you corrected your expression.

Before you had a chance to tell Sirius why you were here, he looked back over his shoulder at James’ bed.

“See, I don’t think I should have to open the door for your bird!”

All that was heard was a painful sounding thump and James muttering “Barty, my glasses” before Barty materialised at the door. 

“Hi Treasure!” He greeted enthusiastically.

Sirius watched your eyes narrow as you seemingly debated whether or not to make a fuss over his nickname before ultimately deciding against it. 

“Angel!” James cheered as he, too, rounded the corner and shoved Sirius out of the way. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

Sirius sat back down on his bed where he could see you consider your options carefully. 

Finally, after having the two sods stand there no doubt smothering you in smiles and soft eyes did you look shyly down at your shoes. “Can I…hang out with you guys for the afternoon?” You asked quietly.

Barty and James exchanged a - quite comical, in Sirius’ opinion - excited look before returning their gazes to you. “Of course!” They chorused; the volume startling you into lifting your head to look at them nervously. 

James cleared his throat and moved out of the door frame, ushering you in. “Of course you can.” He offered quieter this time, guiding you towards his bed as he looked over his shoulder and mouthed “oh my gods” at Barty who was eagerly following behind you. 

“What have you been up to today?” James asked then, clearly wondering what motivated this impromptu and voluntary visit but not wanting to chance whatever spell had been cast to get you here. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed, anxiously picking at your nail beds as each boy sat tentatively beside you. 

“I was studying in the library…” You offered, sounding horribly robotic and rehearsed in your response before you let out a shuddering sigh. Sirius watched as you visibly deflated and leaned slightly closer into Barty’s side. “I’ve had a bit of a headache all day.” You admit.

James and Barty both coo in unison as James cautiously rubs circles on your back; you let him.

“You have a headache?” Sirius deadpanned from across the room. “And you came here? To these two? Are they not the source?” 

“Get out.” Barty spat, braving himself as he tightened his arm around you; once again, you let him. 

“You can’t kick me out of my own dorm room, Junior!” Sirius argued. “Why don’t you go to your dorm room?”

“Oh, do you want to know what your baby brother and Rosier were up to before I left? Because I’ll happily scar you with that knowledge, Black.” Barty threatened. 

Sirius, who was not ashamed to admit he was perhaps more than slightly immature, simply covered his ears and started singing to drown out the sound of Barty’s voice.

“That’s it, everyone out.” James barked then; tone taking on an air of Gryffindor quidditch captain.

Remus scoffed indignantly at that as Peter - clearly the wisest of the bunch - simply began packing up his homework. “You promised to help me pass this test!”

“Oh for Salazar’s sake, Lupin; the answers are A, D, B, B, A, C, D, A, A, true, true, false, Nicholas Flammel.” Barty barked at him, causing Remus to blink owlishly at him. 

“Fine.” Remus finally said as he stood, shocking Sirius into silence at his quick acquiescence to such abhorrent demands. “Let’s go, Sirius.” 

Sirius, feeling awfully petulant, hurled the snitch towards James’ head who quickly and calmly caught it before offering it to you as Remus hauled him off the bed by his wrist and all but dragged him towards the door. 

“But it’s not fair, Moony!” Sirius pouted as he slammed on the breaks just outside the threshold of their dorm room.

“Sirius.” Remus started solemnly. “How many times did you try to convince me to snuggle with you at night before we started dating?”

“217.” Sirius answered readily, relishing in the soft smile Remus had clearly tried and failed at fighting off. 

“Right, 217 times you tried to convince me to snuggle with you; and how many of those times did I deny you?”

“216.”

“Right.” Remus agreed. “And what had James done to ensure that I would relent that one time?”

Sirius let out a pained sigh as he looked to the heavens. “He charmed his, Pete’s, and your bed to the ceiling so there was only one option.” 

“Right.” Remus agreed again, softer this time as he rested his hand at the juncture of Sirius’ neck and shoulder and rubbed his thumb along the column of his throat. “So don’t you think the least we could do right now is just let them have the room?” 

Sirius looked back into the room in time to see you smiling softly at something James was saying as Barty placed what appeared to be a wet cloth to the back of your neck; your eyes closing and face relaxing in relief, leaning back into Barty as James massaged your calves and carried on in his story. 

“What did I do to deserve this?” Sirius whined then, leaning his head into his boyfriend’s chest as he watched you curl up, not unlike a cat who had finally decided to sit on its person’s lap.

“Can you maybe try to remind yourself that James deserves this?” Remus whispered into Sirius’ hair.

“For Godric’s sake, Moony.” Sirius grumbled as he stood and began storming off in the direction of the common room. “Why d’you have to be so bloody reasonable all of the time!?”

[goodoldfashionlovercorpse]

Casual (pt. 2)

pairing: Sirius Black x slytherin! potter! reader

summary: Y/n Potter has been in love with Sirius for as long as she's known him. During their 6th year at Hogwarts, they start hooking up. Sirius declares it casual, but are they both truly ok with this secret?

a/n: this is part two of my Sirius series! hope you enjoy. @hisparentsgallerryy and @planets-and-stars thanks for the support !!

warnings: angst, secret fwb situationship, jealousy, explicit language

Classes went on as normal: a few people passed while others clung for dear life. Unfortunately, Y/n shared a class with him, the one she fell for. She couldn’t pinpoint why she was glaring at him, maybe it was what Lucius had told her. All Sirius did was pretend she didn’t exist until the night. Somehow, he pays more attention to class when she’s in the room. James had sat next to her. She always felt guilty for hooking up with his best friend, he was such a good brother. Even when she was sorted, he bragged about his sister proudly, flaunting the fact she was the brains to his brawns. Sirius got paired with Snape, who was sending her glances that screamed “Help!” every time Sirius said something dumb. Gods, why did she stare at his lips? She always sent Snape a sorrowful expression, reassuring it’s just a partnership for the week. Potions had to be Snape’s and Sirius’s best class, so she didn’t worry that much.

“Ok, so, this week we’ll be brewing Amortentia. It’s powerful, so no one is allowed to drink any of it. Got that?” Slughorn asked, receiving hums from every student, “Right, now turn to page 201 and get started, you have all your ingredients set up. Have fun and remember, the first 3 groups to finish receive 5 house points each!”

As soon as Slughorn finished, James turned to the page. “Alright, I’ll dictate, you add. This should be finished by today, then ready by tomorrow.”

Y/n added the rose thorns, the pearl dust, and all the other ingredients, slowly stirring them. The twins looked at each other with puzzling gazes. “How is this gonna take people a week?”

“Maybe he wants it perfect?”

“Maybe.”

As the pair finished, Slughorn came behind them 20 minutes later. He congratulated the two and encouraged them to sniff. “What do you smell?”

James chimed up first, “Books, tea, that sweet scent of spring.” Ever the romantic, he described. From scents to scenarios, he gushed for 10 minutes as Lily stared at him, smiling. He played with his hands and then blushed once he was done. Turning to his sister, “And you, sis?”

Y/n went near and sniffed. She knew what she smelled, she knew who she smelled. But if Slytherins are taught one thing, it’s acting. “Some leather, a bit of peanut butter, and… dog?” She tried not to scrunch her nose, trying hard to come up with something, anything, to find someone else to match. Sirius was staring at her, his gaze locked on hers. “Maybe it’s Paul McCartney?” the crowd laughed. She stared at Sirius, no smile present on either faces.

Soon three more groups described their scents, the last one being Snape and Sirius. Snape described a simple smell, but she knew he smelled nothing, love just wasn’t his thing. Sirius, on the other hand, tried to finish it quickly. His hands were on his neck, resting on thin air as he bragged bout perfume and chocolate. The very things she liked. “I guess there’s the scent of a night out, doing makeup and dress-ups or whatnot,” he added, the corner of his eye directed at her. James was puzzled, staring Sirius down with pressed brows. She continued looking at Sirius’s table, seeing how Snape tried hiding under the table as girls came flocking towards their table. 

“That’s so romantic!”

“I need to buy more perfume…”

“Hey, Sirius, wanna go out?”

Before you knew it, they were being whisked off by Prof. Slughorn to go to their desks. As class ended, only four out of ten groups had finished, much to her surprise. She started packing up, getting ready for her next class. Snape came up to her as James went over to Sirius. “Can’t believe I got paired with him.”

She shrugged, “You’re both top students, it can’t have been that bad.”

“It is when you’re stared at by everyone  to smell something that’s not there.”

“Hey, everyone believed you.” she pats his back and smiles, gaining a half smile from Snape. The two went out of class, having no clue of Sirius staring at them, a layer of jealousy coated in his gaze. One that didn't go unnoticed by James. The Potter shoved his friend, mumbling something about ‘brotherly duties’. Perhaps tonight will be the night… then again, it was always casual.

Y/n and Snape went along with their classes, being joined by their other friends, but mainly just Lucius. Lucius was quite excited about the Ravenclaw party, and Snape planned on studying. Both gave her a glance, though. A sort of questioning look. “He’ll be there,” Lucius said.

She shrugged, looking down. It wouldn’t have made a difference, she would seen him tonight regardless of whether she attended, that’s how they worked. “I’ll probably go to help James and Lily.” she earned a shrug from Lucius, the other male yapping about homework and studies.

“We should start preparing for our test next week, though.”

“Relax, Sev, that’s days ahead.”

At least friendships weren’t casual, Y/n thought, laughing along with Lucius and hugging Snape. They departed at the common rooms, her having to go up. She smiled, maybe tonight will be about her.

[catherinetheprincessofwales]

James Middleton: Kate, William and the dog that saved my life. The younger brother of the Princess of Wales was so depressed he came close to killing himself. Then Ella, his faithful cocker spaniel, stepped in — and even found him a wife. He tells Matt Rudd about his ‘waste of money’ education, family therapy and the help Prince William gave him. The Sunday Times, 22 Sep 2024.

I’m in a cottage on a farm with the brother of the Princess of Wales and his eyes are filling with tears. He has a cocker spaniel called Luna on his lap and I have a cocker spaniel called Inka on my lap. Both dogs are looking anxiously at their owner as he tries to tell me about the death of their mother, Ella. It could be a bit awkward when a man you’ve only just met starts getting very emotional about a dog that died nearly two years ago. Instead it’s the moment I realise James Middleton isn’t exaggerating. A dog really did save his life.

On a winter’s night in late 2017, Middleton climbed a ladder to the roof above his parents’ flat in Chelsea and contemplated suicide. Overwhelmed by feelings of failure, he had decided that the labour of living was no longer worth the effort. As his thoughts spiralled, it was only the sight of Ella, watching him carefully through the skylight, that gave him pause. How could he leave her, he wondered.

Over weeks and months Middleton had isolated himself from family and friends, ignoring increasingly desperate phone calls and texts. When his sister Pippa came to the door, he would hide in his room. When he tried to go to work, he got as far as the car park and then drove home again.

“I couldn’t focus, I couldn’t sleep, I was constantly agitated,” he says. “If I sat down I had to stand up again immediately. I couldn’t eat because I felt constantly as if I were about to throw up. What was most challenging was that I couldn’t pinpoint what was wrong. It wasn’t living, it was just existing in this awful state of anxiety.”

As his mental health crisis deepened, it was only Ella and the routine of looking after her that kept him going. “I was never alone in a time when I felt very lonely,” he says, stroking Inka’s ears. “I’m surprised there weren’t marks on the carpet from the laps I was doing, but she would sort of get in the way. It was a silent interruption, but for a fraction of a second it would stop the spiralling. “Something was taking over my mind, but not knowing what it was made it very difficult to talk about. And I didn’t feel as though I had a right to be depressed because I’ve had everything, because I am privileged.”

We are meeting today, I should mention, at Bucklebury Farm Park, a genteel sheep-petting outfit plus farm shop (excellent organic pesto) at the more desirable end of Berkshire. It is owned by his sister Pippa Matthews née Middleton and her hedgie husband, James, who is, among other things, the next laird of Glen Affric. Carole and Michael Middleton, parents to James, Pippa and Catherine, live in a manor house a stone’s throw away and Middleton’s own farm, which he bought from the parents of a prep school friend mid-pandemic, is a mile over there. It’s quite the empire.

Now married to the French financier Alizée Thevenet and father to 11-month-old Inigo, Middleton is happy to talk about his annus horribilis and his dog-assisted recovery. He does so at book-length in Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life. But it’s a good question: what does someone born into such wealth and privilege have to be depressed about?

The roots of his 2017 crisis can be found, like most roots of crises, in childhood. Born in 1987, the same year his mother set up the mail-order company Party Pieces, he followed his two older sisters to Marlborough. If the prestigious boarding school demanded academic excellence and his parents expected it, both were to be disappointed. Diagnosed with dyslexia then, and with attention deficit disorder when he finally sought help in 2017, he struggled where his sisters had excelled.

“School is about comparing yourself to others,” he says, recalling how he would avoid friends phoning to compare exam results in the summer holidays. “I didn’t feel despair when I failed because it happened so often, but I was embarrassed. I felt let down because I didn’t think that those results properly represented me.”

In the early chapters of the book he charts his struggles with expectation — his mother is frequently in tears, his father just as frequently exasperated. Even without VAT, it must have taken a large chunk of the trust fund established by Michael’s grandmother, the heiress Olive Middleton, to put his son through Marlborough. When that son had to spend a gap year retaking his A-level chemistry four times, a “humiliating record” for the school, he tells him his education was “a waste of money”.

Although today Middleton studiously avoids criticising his school or his beloved parents — he learnt valuable survival skills at Marlborough, he tells me, and “Mum and Dad just wanted the best for me” — the pressure was clearly intense. He sought escape from that pressure in nature and in dogs. “I was an outcast … alienated from my classmates,” he writes. “But dogs never judged me. Mum asked repeatedly if I wanted to bring friends home to stay at weekends. But truthfully all I wanted to do was to see Tilly.”

Tilly was the family’s golden retriever, but from an early age Middleton was desperate for his own dog. His parents, on the other hand, continued to be desperate for him to succeed. And so, after that long summer of resits, he squeaked into Edinburgh University, choosing criminology, environmental studies and geography modules because he was “pretty certain they would all be multiple choice”. They weren’t, of course, and he failed his first-year exams. More crying from Mum, more exasperation from Dad, more solace from a dog, this time his own.

“For all my reservations, I shall be eternally grateful for the time I spent in Edinburgh because it is thanks to Ben, a university friend, that I find my adored dog Ella,” he writes, introducing us to the dog that saved his life. Despite his best efforts, puppies and student life are not compatible, and when he was banned from bringing Ella to lectures he finally abandoned his studies. “I knew that if I left university I’d be responsible for that decision,” he says. “It was a big step, but I had Ella with me, as my companion and my responsibility.”

Middleton’s story is not exactly Angela’s Ashes. When he announces that he is ditching his degree to become an entrepreneur in London, he is cut off, he tells us, from the Bank of Mum and Dad, but he can still move in with his sisters at the family’s flat in Chelsea. His uncle Gary Goldsmith, he of Celebrity Big Brother 2024 notoriety, is also on hand to invest in his cake kit start-up. Nobody in this story is going to find themselves on the street.

But cynics desist! Don’t underestimate the impact of parental expectation, nor of not conforming to the traditional model of success. Middleton, anxious and increasingly socially uncomfortable, had left his friends in Edinburgh and washed up in London with his dog.

“She was my shield,” he says. “Through her I could enjoy things. I could take her for a walk and see what she was seeing. I process a lot of things in my mind and that can be overwhelming, but she helped me open my eyes and realise everything was OK.”

There are, I’m sure, many advantages to being royal adjacent, but when his sister Catherine started dating Prince William in 2004, Middleton found the level of media interest “shocking”. A young man who used his dog as an excuse to leave parties early was not equipped for the spotlight, for stepping out of the flat into a sea of flashing cameras.

“I’d never seen a royal wedding,” he says, rather sweetly. “There hadn’t been one in my lifetime. Not a big one anyway. I wasn’t aware of the scale or the global interest. I just felt privileged that my sister was asking me to do it, and it meant something to her. I wanted to make sure I did it.”

His description of the intense amount of practice he put in to the reading is like a potted version of The King’s Speech — he stutters, he stumbles, he takes lessons with the voice coach Anthony Gordon Lennox, he reads nervously and then more confidently to an audience of one dog ­— Ella, of course — in Chelsea Old Church. And then it’s the big day. “Really, the build-up to Catherine’s wedding was no different to Pippa’s or other friends’ weddings,” he says, unbelievably. Just the family, 1,900 guests, Her Majesty, an archbishop and a few world leaders. Watching the recording back today, there’s no hint of nerves — Middleton, 24 at the time, gives a bravura performance. Afterwards an American production company wrote to ask if he’d like to star in his own film — their opening offer was $1 million.

“They even ventured,” he writes wryly, “that members of my wider family might like to take part.” Middleton is not unaware of how everything is distorted by his proximity to royalty.

On the surface the next few years of Middleton’s life read like a Hello! magazine special — parties, holidays on Mustique, holidays in the Alps, a blossoming relationship with a glamorous older woman (the actress Donna Air, about whom his parents were hesitant because of the eight-year age gap), weekends at Sandringham (“Did you get my message, James?” the Queen asked the first time he visited. “Ella is welcome to stay in your room.”) But then came the night of despair in pyjamas on a Chelsea rooftop. Long sessions of cognitive behavioural therapy followed with a psychiatrist who was happy for Ella to attend too. She was, Middleton says, the only reason he kept going.

In December 2017, his mental health still fragile, he left London without telling anyone and holed up in a remote cottage in the Lake District. While his family grew frantic with worry, much to his irritation (“I’m a grown man”), he describes three days of elemental existence — fetching firewood and water, heating soup, walking Ella and her two pups. For the first time in a year he enjoyed a deep sleep and, in front of the fire after a wild swim with his dogs, he felt fleetingly happy.

“Dogs are amazing,” he says and all five of the dogs in the cottage with us — three spaniels and two beautiful golden retrievers — look delighted. “They do just sense things. Ella had been with me in every therapy session, she was always with me. I think we can learn from dogs. They’re not thinking about yesterday or tomorrow. They’re not even thinking about the next couple of hours. They’re thinking about right now. I’m here, they’re here, in the moment.”

As Middleton’s recovery continued, he says his sisters understood — they both had friends who had depression — but his parents struggled. “They were uncomfortable with the fact that I’d been labelled ‘clinically depressed’,” he writes. “To people of their generation, I can understand why it was concerning. Society was only just starting to break through the stigma.”

The solution, in the end, was to invite the family to the therapy sessions. “I felt guilty because I knew they were worried,” he says. “They felt guilty because it’s really hard if you’re not able to help the people you love the most. I was finally understanding how I felt but I got nervous trying to translate that to my family without the help of an interpreter. When they came into the sessions they had the opportunity to ask questions that I couldn’t necessarily answer.”

In the 13 years since Catherine’s wedding Middleton’s hair has receded a little, but he now has a beard for balance — a little twirl of his moustaches and he could be a not-too-distant cousin of Tsar Nicholas II. He probably is — this generation of Middletons is not the first to hang out with royalty. He looks less bright and bushy-tailed than he did in 2011, but that might be fatherhood or the weekend with friends he has just returned from in Norfolk. Or it might simply be the passing of enough eventful years.

Whatever it is, he tells me he is now happy, which, given the depths of his depression, he still finds extraordinary. His idea of what constitutes success has changed — he is no longer motivated by money but by the things in life about which he is passionate. He doesn’t even like the word entrepreneur any more.

Having stepped away from Boomf, a marshmallow delivery company (Boomf is the sound a marshmallow makes falling from a letterbox), he started James & Ella, a “premium freeze-dried raw dog food” company in 2020. He clearly finds it easier to be passionate about dogs than marshmallows. But it’s in his personal life that the change has been most dramatic.

“I remember sitting in the therapist’s chair with Ella’s head on my lap, wondering how long it was going to take to get better,” he says. “But within a year I had met my future wife. And we’re now here with an 11-month-old son, living on a farm with six dogs. If someone had told me that would happen, I’d have been annoyed. It would have just seemed so ridiculous.”

He met Thevenet, 34, at a members club in South Kensington, west London, in 2018. Ella, having actively disapproved of several previous girlfriends, broke the ice by going over to her table. They married in the south of France in 2021 (a Hello! magazine world exclusive, naturally) and Ella was a flower girl. And everyone lived happily ever after.

Except, alas, the dog. It is one of life’s cruelties that man’s best friend has a much shorter life expectancy than man. Just asking Middleton about the death of Ella, early one Saturday in January 2023, makes him emotional. Despite being given two weeks to live the previous September, she had made it through Christmas, perhaps buoyed by the thought of one final week in the Alps. Of course Middleton was with her when she took her last breath at 3am. The whole family, including William and Catherine, gathered in his parents’ garden for what sounds like an extensive memorial on the Sunday.

“Saying goodbye to Ella was not just saying goodbye to her as a dog,” Middleton says. “It was everything I’d been through with her. She had arrived just as I was starting out in my twenties and she was leaving as I’d finally figured things out in my mid-thirties. She put me on the right path and I didn’t want another day from her. I didn’t want another hour. I would have loved it but I didn’t need it. “She was sent to me before I even knew I needed her, but she chose me. She was able to transform my life better than any human could have done and then she put me in the capable hands of someone and together we’re now raising our own family.”

Eight days after Ella was buried in her favourite sheepskin, Alizée interrupted Middleton’s mourning to announce that she was pregnant. He is convinced Ella knew and that her death was a kind of passing of the torch. His son, Inigo, was born last autumn. “I hope there’s an Ella who will find Inigo, if there’s a time in his life when he needs it,” he says, as one of the golden retrievers has a long stretch.

If you’re not a dog person, you might find this cosmic canine intervention a bit much. Whether Ella was the ultimate therapist or a very effective placebo, it worked for Middleton. His sisters’ families are also fully invested in the joys of cocker spaniels — Pippa has one of Ella’s sons and Catherine, whose announcement of the end of her chemotherapy treatment comes a few days after this interview, now has one of Ella’s granddaughters — no corgis to date. Middleton himself now regards his mental health crisis as a blessing. “Although I would never wish it on anybody and I would never want to go through it again, I’m pleased it happened. It was an opportunity to recalibrate and to re-evaluate what matters.” Happiness, he says, is what matters. Happiness and lots of dogs. Meet Ella: The Dog Who Saved My Life by James Middleton (Radar £22).