#like hes slipped up half a dozen times which i also really really love but he keeps himself on that path of Good even as it hurts

[mxdotpng]

like i think part of edna's side quest in the game thats the most interesting is sorey being in denial that he cant dave eizen and edna fully believing him because she doesnt want to accept that hes dead. which is why the grief hits her all at once at the end after hes gone.

[enwoso]

heyyyy i absolutely love the grumpy universe and i was wondering if your comfortable with writing it, could we get a fic of lovie meeting her dad or him reaching out to alessia to meet her?

A BRIDGE TO CROSS | alessia russo x child!reader

wow this is a long one, so i hope when reading this your comfy! i did decide to put the flashback in here and if any other questions arise from please ask away. also lovie’s not really in this one till later on, its more focused on alessia for once rather than lovie — but don’t worry she’s in it a little later on.

all that’s left from me is to say enjoy!

grumpy masterlist

a late afternoon sun spilled through the windows of alessia's kitchen, painting the room in a soft glow. the hum of life surrounding her as she answered a few work emails she hadn't had a chance to reply to yet while nursing a cup of now warm coffee.

you, sat across the living room floor, in alessia's eyeline from the open plan area as you hummed off-key with crayons sprawled across the floor. the floor being a chaotic masterpiece of mismatched papers, open markers and alessia's worst enemy at the moment, glitter glue.

alessia had been trying to focus on the emails from her agency on upcoming media appearances and events but her gaze kept drifting to her phone which sat beside her coffee mug like a ticking time bomb.

the message had arrived out of nowhere, a text message from harrison reed, her ex boyfriend from college who also happened to be your biological father.

alessia didn't even have the slightest idea on how he could of managed to get her phone number, it being reserved for only those closest to her. it had been years since she'd even though about hearing from him and yet, there it was. five words long.

(maybe harrison) | ‘i want to meet her.’

the words sat heavy in her chest, replaying over and over in her mind. she'd read the message half a dozen times already, trying to decode its intent. trying to figure out if it was genuine or another empty promise she'd have to shield her daughter from.

across the room, you were a picture of joy. your own little personality as you chatted away to yourself. you were drawing again, as always, your tiny hands gripping a purple crayon.

alessia smiling to herself faintly as she watched you press on the paper a little too hard as your tongue stuck out in concentration.

"mummy, look!" you chirped up as you sat up onto your knees holding up your creation, a stick figure with wild hair standing beside a lopsided house. "it's you and me!"

alessia chuckled softly, setting her coffee down to admire the drawing, "it's beautiful lovie, your getting to be quite the artist!”

you beamed as your face lit up, "i'm going to draw esme next" you announced grabbing the elephant teddy with such enthusiasm.

alessia leaned back on the seat she was sat at, her heart tightening. you were everything to her. she'd fought so hard to you a life filled with love and to shield you from the shadows of the past.

and now, he wanted to come back. and alessia was sure if she could trust him, especially not after how he reacted when she told him.

five years ago.

alessia was sat on the edge of the bathtub in her cramped dorm bathroom, the stick trembling in her hand. she had re-read the result at least ten times. her chest tightening with every glance at the small plus sign.

pregnant.

pressing a hand to her mouth, willing herself not to cry. but her thoughts raced: she was nearly four thousand miles away from home, her scholarship, her dreams of playing professionally.

everything she had spent years working for felt like it was slipping through her fingers.

the sound of her phone buzzing on the counter was what jolted her out of her spiralling thoughts. it was him, harrison. staring a the screen as her stomach twisted in knots.

she hadn't even told him she'd been late this month. he didn't know she'd been panicking all week, buying test after test after practice and waiting for her dorm to be empty before she even dared to use it.

taking a deep breath, she pressed the green button, answering him. "hey less," harrison said his voice easy and light, "what's up?"

her throat felt dry, but she forced the words out, "can you come over? i need to talk to you"

"sure, is everything okay?"

"just..come over- please harrison"

alessia had met harrison through a party in her first year at the unc campus, he a bit like her had a athlete scholarship but his was for football not soccer.

the two had been off and on for a few months before they became official at the end of her freshman year.

the two were a good couple, harrison looked out for alessia and she thought she loved him but maybe that was just because he was her first love — he definitely wasn't the one for her.

when harrison showed up fifteen minutes later, his hoodie pulled up against the chilly evening air, a plastic bag no doubt filled with snacks he'd grabbed from the local store.

alessia sat in the edge of her bed, her hands wriggling nervously in her lap. harrison leaned against the doorframe, his expression puzzled by the shear look on his girlfriends face.

"alright, what's going on? you look like you've seen a ghost" his american accent cutting through the room like a knife. alessia looking up at him as she tried to think of the best way to say it.

biting her lip as her heart pounded in her chest. she didn't know how to start so she just held up the pregnancy test, her hands trembling.

harrison froze, his easy and chilled demeanour evaporating, "is that...?"

she nodded, "i'm pregnant" she said it barely coming out above a whisper.

he scoffed, as he stared at her his face totally unreadable. before he laughed a short, disbelieving sound. "your joking right, like this is one of those weird youtube pranks?" he asked spinning his head around to look around for a camera.

"it's not a joke harrison."

his expression immediately changed, "you can't be serious less, we're still in college. we aren't ready for this-"

"do you not think i don't already realise that!" she snapped, her voice breaking, "do you think i haven't thought about how this is going to change everything?"

harrison let out a loud sigh as he paced the small room, "so.. what are you going to do?" he asked as alessia glanced at him with a blank expression, "you're not actually planning on keeping it, are you?"

alessia's stomach churned at his words, "it's not 'it" harrison. it's a baby, our baby."

he stopped, his face paling, "less you've got a scholarship, you've got a great future ahead of you, you can't throw it away for this?"

her voice wavered, but she stood her ground. "i haven't decided yet, but if i keep the baby, it's not 'throwing my future away'"

harrison shook his head, his tone a lot colder now, "you're not thinking straight. just figure it out.. alright and let me know what you decide."

and without another beat or word, harrison left. leaving alessia alone in the suffocating silence.

—

it had been two weeks since alessia had found out she was pregnant and the decision of what to do had been weighing on her both mentally and physically.

she'd hardly slept, her thoughts consumer by the enormity of what was ahead. but after breaking silence with her family and them offering her their undying support.

with many sleepless nights on the phone to her mum, she knew what she wanted. for both her and her baby.

she was going to keep the baby.

the clarity didn't make facing harrison any easier. she had spent the morning rehearsing in her head what to say, trying to figure out what his reaction would be.

arriving at his dorm, it not being too far of a walk from hers. hesitantly she lifted her hand hovering over the door before finally knocking.

harrison answered quickly, his expression guarded, "hey, you alright?" he asked pulling the blonde into a side hug as he kissed the top of her head.

"can..we talk?" alessia asked, stepping to the side to sit on the couch before he could respond. not wanting to give herself the chance to back out.

he closed the door behind her, crossing his arms as he leant against the wall, he knew exactly what the conversation was about to be had. "so have you figured it out?"

alessia frowned at the casual tone in his voice as if this wasn't a serious conversation but she forced herself to stay calm knowing an argument right now would not be the best thing, "yeah i have. i'm keeping the baby."

harrison's eyes widened briefly clearly not the answer he was hoping or expecting as his brow furrowed deeper. "less, come on. think for a moment. your only twenty, we're still in college. your finally getting noticed by the senior teams, and football is going well for me. you can't seriously think this is a good idea-"

her jaw tightened, "it's my decision, harrison. i've thought about it and this is what i want. i'm keeping my baby"

he scoffed, running a hand through his hair, "are you hearing yourself right now. how are you supposed to raise a kid at your age, it's insane less"

"i'll figure it out" alessia snapped her voice firm despite the lump in her throat. "i have my family. i don't need you to like it, harrison. but i just need you to know this is happening"

he stared at her for a long moment, his expression hardening as he let out a loud sigh, "look i'm not ready for this" he said his voice cold and clipped. "i can't be a dad, less. not yet anyway"

alessia felt something in her chest pang, the hurt cutting a littler deeper than she expected. but beneath the pain a fierce determination began to take roots she straightened her back meeting his gaze head on.

"ok" she said shrugging, her voice steady, "if you don't want to be involved, you won't be. but know this, my baby deserves better than someone who walks away when things get hard."

harrison opened his mouth as if to argue, but alessia shook her head stopping him. not wanting her hear anything else from the boy.

"i don't want anything from you, harrison. not your money, not your time, nothing. from now we're done. me and my baby won't have anything to do with you."

her words hung in the air like a challenge and for a moment alessia thought he may change his mind, say something and protest her stern words.

but he didn't, he just sighed shoving his hands into his pockets, "if that's what you want"

alessia's heart ached at his indifference, the memories built flooding into her mind but she refused to let him see her cry. without another word she turned and walked out of his dorm door.

walking along the dimly lit door corridor, the cool air hitting her face as she let out a shaky breath. a wave of reality hitting her like a brick as tears pricked at her eyes but she quickly wiped them away angrily.

"i promise we'll be better without him" she whispered to herself, placing a protective hand over her stomach.

in that moment, alessia made a silent promise to herself and her unborn baby: she would give them a life filled with love and supports. they mightn't have their father to turn to but they would never feel unloved.

and alessia would make sure of it.

that evening, alessia was sat in the familiar comfort of her parents' living room. her hands curled around a mug of tea. the walls were adorned with family photos — memories of holidays, birthdays and days out which were always loud and full of love.

it had always been her safe haven, but tonight, it felt anything but safe.

you had spent the evening in the kitchen with your nonna, helping to make dinner which had been a favourite of yours. making faces on everyone's pizzas with the toppings.

you were now in dream land having difted to sleep in your mummy's arms as you watched the tv.

alessia's parents, mario and carol as well as her older brothers gathered around her each wearing a different expression after hearing the news of who was back.

mario sat forward in his chair, elbows on him knees as his brow furrowed in deep though. carol was perched on the couch beside alessia as she gave a comforting hand on her knee in quiet support.

while her brothers, giorgio and luca across the room sat side by side with their arms crossed and a protective energy glowing from them almost tangible.

alessia's dad broke the silence first, his voice steady but soft. "so to get it straight, after four years, harrison out the blue wants to meet tiny?"

alessia nodded, her hands tightening around her mug. "that's what he says, somehow he got my number and messaged me yesterday"

"but he hasn't been around at all" luca's voice was sharp cutting through the air like a blade, "so why are we even having this conversation. his actions speak louder than his words"

alessia hummed, she knew exactly what her brother was saying, heck she felt the same way. but for some reason the decision felt like such a difficult one.

her mum, carol sighed, giving alessia's hand a reassuring squeeze, "darling, i know this is complicated but.. maybe he's realised he made a mistake. people do change you know"

mario nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful, "exactly what your mum says, it sounds like he's trying to take responsibility. and as much as you maybe wish it wasn't true but harrison is her father and she deserves the chance to know that"

alessia bit her lip, torn between her parents clam logic and her brothers silent fury. she couldn't deny that part of her wanted to believe harrison had changed that he could finally be the father figure you deserved but despite her parents words, alessia knew harrison better than them.

and she didn't know if she was exactly ready to gamble with your heart.

"you really think he deserves a chance, dad?" alessia asked still hesitant.

mario nodded slowly, "i do, i'm not saying forgive him overnight but you could always meet with him, if he's in london and talk to him. see if he's serious. if he's willing to show up for her now — that has to count for something."

a loud scoff could be then heard from luca, his arms tightening across his chest. "count for what? a pat on the back for finally doing what he should've been doing for the past four years-"

carol gave her eldest son a sharp look, "luca. don't make this harder than it already is for your sister."

but luca was unmoved in his opinion, "but mum, he walked away when less needed him most! and now he thinks he can just waltz back in like nothings happened!"

gio, who had been quieter of the two brothers, decided to add his opinion. his voice firm, "and what happens if he decides it's too hard for him and disappears again? think about what that'll do to lovie. she's too young to understand why her dad didn't stick around the first time."

alessia's throat tightened, like she was going to either be sick or pass out or maybe both. she'd had the same thoughts running through her mind all day.

"boys" mario said sharply cutting through the clear tension which was building. his tone carrying the weight of authority. "this isn't about us, it's about what's best for y/n and if harrison is serious don't you think she deserves to know him?"

luca scoffed, "only if he's serious," luca snapped sharply, "and that's a big if."

carol turned back to alessia, her expression softer now, "what do you think darling? do you believe he's changed?"

alessia let out a shaky breath, setting her mug down on the coffee table careful not to wake you as you slept peacefully in her arms. "i don't know mum, part of me wants to give him the benefit of the doubt but i can't risk lovie getting hurt. she's happy and she doesn't even know what's she missing."

"which is exactly why you should be careful," gio firmly said, her voice protective not only of his sister but also of his niece. "she doesn't know him. if you let him in and he screws up — she's the one whose going to get hurt and confused, not him."

the room fell into a tense silence, alessia's parents and brothers were split down the middle — her dad and mum urging caution but also the fact everyone deserves a second chance while her brothers were both adamant that harrison definitely wasn't even worthy of considering the opportunity.

finally mario broke the stalemate, "less, we can sit here and go back and forth but at the end of the day it's your decision. tiny is your daughter and whatever you choose, we'll support you.

alessia nodded slowly, her eyes stinging with she'd tears. she appreciated their support but it didn't make the decision any easier.

glancing down at your sleeping figure in her arms as you clutched the side of her hoodie in your hands, soft breaths coming from your lips. her heart aching as she thought about your bright, innocent and trusting smile.

whatever she decided, it had to be for your sake.

—

it was a few days since she'd been at her parents, going over her options and she was still no further forward on what to do so as she sat lying on her bed it was late and the house was quiet, you tucking up peacefully in bed and the world was quiet, but alessia's mind was anything but.

so as she lay on facetime to someone she hoped would be able to give her an honest and brutal opinion and not sugar coat it.

"so after four years he's just reached out, that's mad less" ella's thick accent came through the speaker as her brows furrowed as she adjusted the angle of her phone

alessia sighed running a hand through her freshly washed hair, "tell me about it. it's like where has he suddenly gotten the change of heart come from. i don't know if i can trust him, el"

ella's face softened, her usual playful smirk replaced with genuine concern, she'd seen the fallout after what happened. the state the blonde had been in when she came home from the states six months pregnant.

she was the only one who really knew the whole story. whether that was from late night chats or drunken confessions after one too many on a team night out.

"i mean i don't blame you, after all you've brought her up on your own. you've played both parents and he's just been.. well not here"

"exactly," alessia said her voice tight, "and now he want to meet her" alessia huffed expressing the same concerns about letting harrison back into your life like she did with her parents.

ella shifted, propping herself up on her elbows, "it normal that your feeling worried, but.. what if he's serious this time? people can change less. don't you think tiny deserves the chance to know her dad, even if it's just to see for herself what he's like?"

alessia frowned leaning back against the headboard of her bed. "but that's the thing, she's doesn't even know he exists. she's happy el and i've worked so hard to keep my promise to her and give her a good life"

"i know you have less," ella said softly, "but.. what if one day after school she asks about him. what are you going to tell her? that you wouldn't give him the chance"

alessia groaned quietly, covering her face with her hands. part of her wishing he had never even sent the message and then she wouldn't be in such a split state of mind. "i don't know! that's why i'm calling you. i don't know what to do."

ella was quiet for a moment, her expression deep in thought. "look i get your scared, heck i don't know sometimes how you manage everything you do. but i also know how much you love that little girl. you always put her first and this is no different."

ella paused as alessia nodded, hearing her best friend loud and clear, "maybe the answer isn't about trusting him— it's about trusting yourself. you'll know if it's the right thing to do."

alessia let out a small laugh, as she looked at the camera, "you make it sound so simple"

ella laughed lightly, "it's not simple, far from it. it's messy as hell. but your so strong, less. you've handled everything else life thrown at you and you'll handle this too. just.. don't rush it. start small and let him prove himself."

alessia let out a slow breath, the tension in her shoulders easing a little, "you really think i should give him a chance?"

ella's eyes softened as she let out a sigh, "i think you should do what feels right for tiny. but yeah maybe, give him a shot. if he messes up you'll know and you'll handle it. your her mum and there's no better at protecting her than you"

for the first time in a couple days a small smile tugged at alessia's lips, "thanks el, i don't know what i'd do without you."

ella grinned, her usual cheeky grin as her playful energy returned, "you'd probably just sit overthinking everything. good thing i'm always here to knock some sense into you"

alessia laughed, shaking her head, "your an idiot"

"and yet you still love me for it!" ella winked before stifling a yawn. "right go and get some sleep. you've got enough in your plate without being a total zombie tomorrow."

"and less," ella paused grabbing the blondes attention as she shuffled around her bed, "i'm proud of you" ella smiled softly as the two shared an understanding nod, knowing exactly what the other was saying without having to say a word.

"goodnight, el" alessia smiled her voice softer

"night, less. you've got this! oh, and give my favourite little russo a kiss from her auntie ella, i miss her” ella added with a pout as a small giggled came from alessia as she nodded telling her best friend she would do just that.

as the screen went dark, alessia leaned back against her pillows, staring up at the ceiling as ella's words replayed in her mind. for the first time since harrison's message, she felt the faintest flicker of clarity.

—

the cafe was small and tucked into a quiet corner of london, the last thing alessia wanted was for this to be in every media outlet going. so she chose a discreet location somewhere she wouldn't usually go.

the bell above the door jingled as she stepped inside, clutching her coat tightly around her. her eyes scanning the room until she saw him: harrison reed.

sat at a table by the window, his hands wrapped around what looked to be some sort of health smoothie filled with all the healthy greens.

his hair a little shorter than she remembered, not the messy moon of curls it was back in college as well as the light subtle on his jaw. a black shirt covering him as his arms where on show a lot more tattoos coving his arms than the blonde could recall from back in college.

he looked nervous — his knee bouncing under the table, his fingers tapping against the plastic cup. when he saw her, he stood quickly unsure what to do or how to greet the blonde so he stuck his hands into his pockets.

"alessia" he said his voice tentative.

alessia just gave him a curt nod as she forced herself to take a steadying breath. she walked towards him, her heart pouring in her chest.

as she reached the table, sliding into the seat across from him without a word, her posture rigid and far from relaxed.

harrison sat down slowly, his movements careful as if he was afraid of scaring her off. for a moment neither of them spoke. alessia kept her arms crossed tightly, her gaze fixed on him like a shield.

"do you want a dri-" harrison began but was quickly shut off by the blonde shaking her head, "-no, i'm not staying long. i have to pick lovie up at three"

the blonde glanced down at the time on her phone, thirty minutes. that it all she had to do was listen to him for thirty minutes. she could do that.

harrison just nodded, "well thanks for uh, meeting me" harrison finally said, stuttering over his words.

alessia's lips pressed into a thin line. "you said it was important."

he nodded, his eyes flickering to the smoothie in front of him before returning to her. "it is. i've.. i've been thinking about this for a while. reaching out, i mean. i know it's been too long. way too long"

her jaw tightened, "four years harrison. you haven't said anything in four years. you didn't even say anything after i went out my way to send you a message the day she was born"

he flinched slightly at the sharpness in her tone, guilt washing over his face. "i-i know i didn't and i hate myself for it alessia. i wasn't ready back then. i was..scared, stupid and i thought walking away was the right thing to do because i didn't think i could handle it."

alessia let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "the right thing? you left me to do it all alone, i was terrified too but i didn't get the luxury of running away"

alessia paused for a moment her voice a little shaky as she took a deep breath, "i had to figure it out alone — for her"

harrison's face fell as his hands tightened around the plastic cup, "i've let you down, both of you. and i know i'll never be able to make up for that. but i've changed alessia. i'm not the same selfish idiot i was back then"

she arched an eyebrow, skepticism radiating from her as she let out a scoff, "and now you try think you can just walk into her life and everything will be sunshine and rainbows? do you even understand what you're asking?"

harrison hesitated as his gaze dropped to the table, alessia continuing voicing her frustration, "and what happens when you go back to america"

harrison's head picked back up as he shook it, "i- i live here now. i have for the past year and a bit... football didn't work out for me not like the.. the way it did for you. i erm work for marketing firm now, the hours are long but it works" he shrugged and alessia nodded talking in the new information.

it didn't change a lot but it definitely changed something. harrison wasn't going to go away after a few months, especially now, not since he lived here too. alessia couldn't just forget him like she did before when he lived across the world.

"and i can't sit here and pretend to understand what it's been like for you. but i know i want to try. i want to be there for y/n even if it's just a small part. she deserves to know her dad"

the mention of your name coming from his lips made alessia's heart ache. your bright smile flashing in her mind, your endless curiosity and infectious laughter.

"she doesn't even know you exist" alessia said quietly, her voice cracking slightly, you had never really asked but alessia knew with each month that passed it was only a matter of time till you did. "she's happy and i've worked so hard to give her a life full of love and stability. i won't let you ruin that.

harrison's eyes filled with remorse, "i’m not here to ruin anything. i just want a chance. if i could erase the past i would in a heartbeat. but i know i can show up now. so please alessia, let me try and prove myself to you."

she studied for a long moment, searching his face for any hint of insincerity. there was a desperation in his eye but also something else — determination maybe even hope.

"this isn't about you." she said finally, her voice steady. "this is about it her and if you're not serious, if you mess this up. i'll never forgive you.

harrison nodded quickly, his expression earnest. "i understand and i swear i'm serious. i'll do whatever it takes to prove it to you."

alessia leaned back in her chair as her arms still crossed tightly. she wasn't ready to trust him, not yet, but she couldn't ignore the tiny voice in her head whispering 'what if he has changed?' 'what if this is his change to be the dad you deserve'

after a long pause, she sighed, "i need time to think about this and i'm not making any promises harrison."

"of course," he said quickly, a flash of shock going over his features at the blondes response, "take all the time you need, i'll wait."

she stood, reaching for her coat "this isn't just about meeting her. if i let you in, you have to stay. no backing out when things get hard. no disappearing acts and if you can't promise that then we might as well not even bother"

harrison rose to his feet, his posture uncertain but hopeful, "i promise alessia. i have a life here, i live here and have a steady job i promise i'm not going anywhere."

she didn't respond, simply pulling her coat tighter around herself as she nodded mumbling a quick "i'll be in touch" as she headed towards the door.

as she stepped outside and closer to her car in the cold air, she felt a swirl of emotions: anger, fear and deep down a faintest flicker of hope.

—

a few weeks had passed since alessia had met harrison in that cafe. after a few days of going back and forth with the idea and a few more conversations with her mum and ella.

she decided to give him the chance to know his daughter. giving harrison a call, him answering pretty much straight away his voice filled with hope as alessia asked when he would next be free along with another warning of the risk she was taking.

which lead to this warm sunday, and for once where alessia didn't have a match. the team having played on the friday night. as alessia and you walked through your local park which was only a short walk from your house.

the playground at the park was alive with laughter and the squeals of children running around in every direction.

alessia stopped for a moment as she leaned down to tie your shoelace again for you, standing back up as she gripped the straps of her bag tightly.

feeling her stomach churn as she glanced towards a bench in the distance, where harrison was sitting. his posture stiff as he sat with his hands clasped together.

beside her, you tugged at her hand excitedly. the eyes of your hair slightly curled bouncing up and down as you pointed towards the swings.

"mummy! can we go on the swings first?" you asked, your voice brimming with nothing but energy.

alessia forced a smile as she leant down to your level, "in a bit we can lovie, but first there's someone i would like you to meet"

your head tilted the side, curiosity filling your features as you wondered who it could be, "who?"

alessia swallowed hard, her throat dry, "he's... someone who would like to get to know you. his name is harrison"

before you could ask any more questions, alessia straightening up as her gaze met harrison's. he was already looking over, waving alessia over as she could sense his nervous energy practically radiating from him.

alessia taking your hand and starting to walk towards him, her heart pounding with every step.

as they approached, harrison offered a small and tentative smile. "hi y/n" he said softly, his voice careful and gentle not wanting to overwhelm you.

you looked at him, your big blue eyes wife with curiosity as you clutched your mummy's hand a little tighter. your usual boldness momentarily replaced with shyness. "hi," you said after a pause, you voice quiet and timid.

alessia crouched down before you, her hand staying tightly in yours, "lovie, this is harrison" she said her voice calm but steady. "and he's.. your dad"

your brow furrowed slightly, her head tilting as you processed your mummy's words, "my dad?" you repeated, your gaze flicking between your mummy and harrison.

"yes" alessia said softly, "he's been away for a little while, but he wants to get to know you"

harrison leaned forward, putting himself a little closer to you. he looked hesitant unsure if he should speak but when you didn't back away, he took a deep breath.

"it's nice to finally meet you, y/n." he said his voice warm and welcoming, "your mummy has told me so many wonderful things about you."

you stared at him for a moment, your little button nose scrunching up as you studied his face. finally you asked, "but why weren't you here before?"

the question hit like a punch to the gut and alessia felt her breath get caught in her throat as she looked at harrison waiting to see how he would respond.

harrison's face softened, guilt flickering in his eyes. "that's a good question" he said gently. "the truth is, i made a mistake. a pretty big one and i wasn't there when i should've been and i'm really really sorry for that"

you blinked, your expression still curious but no longer as guarded as you were, "so.. but your not going away now?"

harrison's throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, "no kiddo, i’m not going anywhere. and if you'll let me i would really like to spend time with you and get to know you"

alessia felt her chest tighten at the raw emotion in his voice. she looked down at you whose gaze was fixed on harrison and after a long moment you nodded slowly.

"okay" you said simply.

harrison's face lighting up with relief, his smile genuine and warm, "okay" he echoed softly.

you turned back to look at your mummy, your usual energy returning. "can i show him the swings, mummy? i'm really good at swinging high!"

alessia hesitated for a moment, her protective instincts warring slightly with the tentative hope stirring in her chest. finally she nodded, "of course lovie. go on"

you grabbed harrison's hand without hesitation, pulling him towards the swings with the same confidence you had with everyone you trusted.

alessia watching as harrison followed you, his movements careful but not awkward. he listened to you chattering about your favourite colours and how you someday when you get older would like a puppy like your auntie beth and steph.

by the time you reached the swings, you had clearly decided that harrison was worth your attention. you climbed onto the swing and your legs were kicking in anticipation.

"push me! but not too high!" you instructed your voice filled with authority.

harrison chuckled, a sound alessia hadn't heard in years. it bringing back memories of the two of them when they were sit and laugh in their dorms about things that probably weren't even funny.

"you got it kiddo!"

as harrison gently pushed on the swing, your laughter filled the air, bright and unrestrained. alessia stood by the bench watching them with a strange mix of emotions swirling inside her.

for the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—this could work.

—

the sun had dipped lower in the sky as they walked home, the soft golden light casting long shadows on the pavement of the three.

you skipping happily ahead, holding your mummy's hand with one of her own while the other clutched the small daisy harrison had plucked for her from the park.

you hadn't stopped talking since they left, your excitement bubbling over as you recounted every little thing about your day.

harrison walked in the other side of alessia, his hands shoved deep into her coat pockets, clearly not well adjusted to the cool breeze that london brings once the sun had lowered.

his steps were measured as his gaze drifted towards you every so often as if he couldn't quite believe you were real and part his blood.

when they reached the driveway of your home, you running straight to the door as your mummy came up behind unlocking it for you to rush inside the warmth, kicking your shoes off before turning to the door seeing your mummy and har- your daddy still stood at the door way.

"are you coming inside daddy?" you asked so innocently with a big toothy grin.

the words so simple as daddy, landed like a punch and a hug all at once. alessia's heart clenching and she saw the way harrison froze, his eyes widening for just a moment before he crouched down to your level.

"not today, y/n" he said gently, his voice steady but filled with emotion. remembering about what alessia had said about boundaries and wanting to respect them. "but i'll see you soon, and maybe we can go to a soft play"

you pouted slight but your expression softened when harrison added, "i promise i’ll be back, pinky swear?" he held out his pink and you giggled as you wrapped yours around his, "pinky swear!"

satisfied with the answer you were given, you turned and tugged at your mummy's arm, "can i have a snack now, mummy?"

alessia smiled, brushing a faint curl from your face, "go on inside and wash your hands first lovie, i'll be through in a moment"

you nodded, bouncing your way inside and making a beeline for the kitchen as you held your daisy tight in your hand.

as you bounced down the hallway, the world seemed to grow quieter. alessia turning back to harrison after making sure you went were you should be, crossing her arms instinctively over her chest.

for a long moment, they stood there, the late afternoon casting a soft flow over their faces.

harrison shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other, his hands still buried inside his coat pockets, "she's.. amazing" he said finally, his voice thick with emotion.

alessia's lips twitched into a small smile despite herself. "she is, i've worked hard to make sure she has a good life"

"and you've done an incredible job" harrison said honestly, his eyes meeting alessia's. "she's so clever, so confident. that's all you"

alessia felt her guard waver, but she quickly steadied herself, "not just me. my family and my friends. she's surrounded by people who shower her with love" her gaze hardened slightly, "people who've been there since day one."

harrison flinched but nodded, he knew it was coming. his jaw tightened, "yeah, i deserve that one," he admitted quietly.

"i know i let you down less- alessia. both of you. and i don't expect forgiveness overnight but i would like to there for her now, and you if you ever need me. however you'll let me" harrison smiled softly, alessia taking in his words, letter by letter.

alessia studied him, her expression unreadable, "your really asking me to fully trust you, after four years of nothing."

"yeah" harrison said quietly, his voice was steady despite the weight of alessia's words. "but not just for me, but for her. i'll do whatever it takes to prove that i'm serious this time."

her lips pressed together into a thin line as she considered him, the sincerity in his eyes was hard to ignore but the scars of the past were fresh and the last few days had opened more than alessia care to admit.

"we'll see" she said finally, her voice cool but not dismissive, "you've got a long way to go harrison. don't make me regret this."

he nodded, a small but grateful smile tugging at his lips, "i won't, i promise"

for a minute, the weight of their shared history hung between them — everything left unsaid, every moment lost. then alessia took a small step back her hand resting lightly on the door handle.

"goodnight, harrison."

"goodnight, alessia. message me once you've had time to think!"

she slipped inside and close the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment as she let out a shaky breath.

your laughter echoing from the kitchen, no doubt in alessia's mind that you were making soap bubbles while you washing your hands and alessia felt the faintest glimmer of hope pierce through the wall of doubt surrounding her heart.

[elisela]

an introvert's guide to falling in love on thanksgiving derek x stiles, g, fluff, thanksgiving, 1.6k for @nerdy-stilinski ... just barely getting this up in time haha

.

It’s not that Derek doesn’t like being charitable; it’s that Derek doesn’t like people. What he does like is cooking, which is why, every Thanksgiving morning since high school, he’s found a reason to make himself useful in the kitchen and just …. not leave.

All day. 

Slowly, throughout college and grad school, he was put in charge of more and more of the meal, until the only thing he wasn’t responsible for was the appetizers his mother set out early and kept refreshing throughout the day. He has his timeline down to a science at this point, though the menu has evolved over the years to keep up with the guests his mother invites and the new additions always necessitate some last-minute juggling. He starts with the soups a full week in advance; butternut squash and split pea, made in huge proportions and kept frozen until the night before. Same with the gravy, though he’ll add in drippings for extra flavor just before it’s served. He preps the casseroles the day before and lets them sit until the morning, bakes at least half a dozen pies, and usually goes to bed the night before already exhausted for what’s to come.

But as tiring as it all is, he’ll gladly do it when the alternative is mixing with a bunch of college students he doesn’t know, all of whom don’t have another place to go for the holidays. The kitchen, at least, is his refuge.

A refuge that’s invaded far too quickly the next morning.

He hears the humming first; he’s been able to tune out most of the conversations since he was a teenager, though the more repetitive and annoying noises tend to break through occasionally. And while the humming is definitely repetitive, it doesn’t alarm him until it gets closer, closer, and abruptly turns into a low whistle at the threshold of the kitchen. 

Derek grits his teeth and reminds himself that while charity is important to his mother, genuine kindness is more so, and she won’t hesitate to voice any disappointment.

“Does the cooking or the clean-up take longer?” a voice asks, followed shortly by footsteps.

“Not sure,” Derek says, wincing when the potato peeler slips and cuts into his finger. He flips the water on with his wrist, hopefully hiding the blood from sight until his skin knits itself back together seconds later. “My sisters are in charge of cleaning.”

There’s laughter from behind him, and the sound of the wooden spoon he’d been using to brown the butter as it clinks against the pot. “So it doesn’t matter much to you is what I’m getting out of that.”

Derek feels his lips quirk up, despite his reluctance to have his space invaded. “If there’s a single clean dish in this kitchen at the end of the day I’ve failed.” This time, when he hears laughter, he turns around to look at the source of it and almost immediately wishes he hadn’t. If there’s anything that makes Derek a little weak in the knees, it’s pale skin and big, dark eyes, and he looks away before he can take the man in fully and find even more appealing details.

“Need any help getting dirtying them up?” the guy asks. Derek’s about to decline—politely, of course, or God help him if his mother overhears—but then he adds, “Because to be honest it’s kind of awkward being out there, I’m pretty sure everyone knows each other? There are groups, at least, and I was supposed to come with my buddy because we decided it was a Christmas-only trip home this year, only his girlfriend invited him to Tahoe literally this morning and he didn’t tell me until I got here and it also felt awkward to leave, so …”

Derek starts peeling the potatoes again and tells himself to stay strong, but he can feel his resolve crumbling. “I don’t really need much help,” he says; a weak protest, but still true. He does so much of the prep ahead of time that it’s really just managing the timing of it all. The disappointment that radiates from the man is so palpable that Derek caves almost immediately. “But you can cube the potatoes, if you’d like.”

“Yeah, anything,” he hears, and then, “I’m Stiles, by the way.”

Stiles … doesn’t shut up. He talks as he cuts the potatoes in a way that makes Derek think he’s going to lose a finger by the end of the night, an abbreviated life story that gives just enough details to get Derek interested in hearing more. But for every small fact about himself he gives out he asks at least three questions of Derek, everything from his middle name to the first flavor of ice cream he’d ever considered his favorite, and Derek finds himself talking much more than he does to anyone he’s ever met. He doesn’t even realize he’s answering the questions until suddenly they’re knee-deep in an argument over the relative merits of the Wildcat formation and he realizes he’s ignored the timer on the oven going off for a solid two minutes while he details his very short college football career.

“So how’d you get stuck with all the cooking?” Stiles asks hours later, just as Derek’s pulling the turkey out of the oven to rest. He’s holding a casserole dish in his hands and although his body is still, he also seems to be vibrating with energy. “I’m just assuming this isn’t the first time because you seem to have everything under control, whereas I would have probably burned the turkey to get it to cook faster and forgotten like, the rolls or something.”

Derek pauses, still holding on to the roasting pan with both hands. The words send a jolt of adrenaline through him—not the good type, not the type that comes with elation or something equally serotonin-boosting—but dread, and a mild sense of panic.

He couldn’t have forgotten the rolls. He gets the frozen type, bags and bags of them, because once they defrost and rise they only take a few minutes to bake. It’s the last thing he does every year; he takes the casseroles out of the oven and puts four cookie sheets worth of rolls in, and by the time they’re done everything else is on the table. 

“I forgot the rolls,” he says, letting go of the roasting pan and twisting to look at the island, where the shelf he typically keeps the cookie sheets on is depressingly empty. His heart feels like it’s sinking, even though he knows at the same time that there’s plenty of food and it’s not such a big deal. “I forgot to take them out.”

The oven door closes, pulling him out of his head, and Stiles taps at the buttons to set the timer. “I can grab them. Where are they?”

“In the freezer,” Derek says, probably too short, because Stiles raises an eyebrow in response. “Fuck, I never took them out. They take hours to rise, it’s too late. Shit.” 

“So we go without,” Stiles says, shrugging. “If anyone complains, kick them out.” 

He can’t keep himself from frowning. It’s such a simple, little thing, and he tends to get stuck on those at times and the unsettled feeling in his chest can stick around for hours. But then Stiles moves into his line of sight and reaches out, hand closing around his shoulder. “You’re cute when you’re upset,” he says, and grins even though a faint blush appears on his cheeks. “It’s not rolls, but I can make biscuits pretty quick if you’ve got flour and extra butter.”

Some of the pressure lifts off his chest. “Flour’s in the pantry,” he says, and Stiles nods once and turns around, further discussion not needed. Derek still needs to assemble the salads, but he takes a moment to find a clean mixing bowl and the pastry cutter so Stiles can get to work. It takes longer than the rolls would have, but everything is still hot when they come out of the oven, and he can’t even bring himself to care that his sisters will definitely make fun of him for messing up when Stiles breaks off a piece of a biscuit and holds it out for Derek to try.

They’re simple, but good—but even better is the way that Stiles kisses him back when Derek pulls him in, a little overwhelmed by the way the day turned out so differently than he had expected, but grateful.

“Thanks for that,” he says, quietly, when they part, gesturing to the basket Stiles had just piled all the biscuits into. “And everything else.”

“Thanks for letting me hide in here all day,” Stiles says with a grin. “Do you have to stick around for a while after dinner, or can I convince you to get late-night ice cream with me?”

“I could be convinced,” Derek says, picking up the last of the casserole dishes to bring to the table, “but I could also just forget to bring out that cherry pie you’ve been looking at all day and we could keep hiding.”

“Hiding’s good,” Stiles says quickly. “Hiding is great, let’s do that. Just not in here where I assume your sisters will be cursing our names as they clean, so—my place isn’t that far, if you wanna just … hide there. Instead. With the pie. You know, we could always get ice cream to go with the pie, that’s probably the best decision. Do people do a la mode with cherry pie?”

Derek shakes his head and grins, and uses his elbow to urge Stiles in front of him; they’ve only known each other a few hours, but he knows well how easily he can get distracted. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s go get this over with and we can find out.”

[crookedfivefingers]

Ten x Martha • Mature

WIP snippet. AU scenario where there wasn’t a “Year that Never Was” and Martha continued traveling aboard the TARDIS (against her better judgment). Also AU in the sense that the Doctor is actually willing to smother all of that UST once and for all.

The Doctor walked right into Martha’s personal space, succumbing to her orbit, studying her face as his hands pursued a symmetrical study of her sides.

The tank top she wore clung to her curves: modal and elastane blended into something red and soft beneath the exploration of his fingers. The hem met bare skin over the crests of her hips, which he traced with wide sweeps of his thumbs, dragging the material without ever slipping beneath.

“So,” he began conversationally, choosing not to acknowledge the tremors he could feel running through her body like a dozen little currents. Barely tilting his head, he leaned in close, only stopping once his nose brushed alongside hers. “Have we got a plan, or are we just sort of making it up as we go along?”

Standing this close, Martha didn’t even need to try for him — not really. She probably had no idea that her body was already making short work of his senses, laying claim to them, bolstering his resolve to have her — and in as many ways as she would allow.

In addition to the allure of seeing her dressed down, she smelled clean and lovely: like shea butter and peppermint toothpaste, both of which the Doctor could already taste as trace molecules sought refuge on his tongue.

They barely managed to mask the telltale plume of pheromones that were coming off of her, however.

“I… oh,” Martha gasped as his grip tightened to tug her closer, a nervous smile playing on her lips. “Erm. Well…” She hesitated just before placing her hands flat on his chest, then seemed to reconsider, sliding her arms up to wind around his neck. “Reckon we sort’ve work best when… When we haven’t got a plan, yeah?”

Humming appreciatively, the Doctor slid his hands around to her lower back, reveling in the way his long fingers seemed to splay from one side of her body to the next. Blimey, she’s small, isn’t she?

Steadying his hands, he drew back, smirking at her half-mast stare. “Mm. I knew there was a reason I wanted to keep you,” he purred, husking through each syllable, allowing the heat of his words to pour into her parted lips without an ounce of pretense as he once more brought his face to hers.

Though Martha’s eyes fell shut, the Doctor’s remained shuttered as his mouth hovered over hers — a gentle (and entirely unnecessary) tease. The poor girl was already so far gone, her petite frame all but trembling against him — but he had to admit it was a bit fun keeping her perched there, trapped on a razor’s edge.

It was only a matter of time before he would make up for all of this torture, certainly (and with handsome interest) — but presently, he could hear her heart pounding between every last uneven breath; he could feel so much human heat radiating off of her skin, enticing him further, and… Oh, yes.

They were going to have great fun, weren’t they?

It was fascinating just how seductive this regeneration was proving to be. It felt brilliant. Every nerve, every neuron was alight with wanting, tempting him to draw out every detail, savoring the prelude to what he could imagine would wind up being quite the torrid fucking.

Something told him that was exactly what she wanted — what they both needed — and the Doctor was happy to oblige.

[chaiandsage]

hi um. Having just finished my fourth (?) read of trust life, i have a couple things to say/ask

the first thing is Oh My God it’s incredible probably one of my favourite fics ever your writing is amazing and the characterisation is always on point

The next thing is how much planning went into the fic before writing? Theres so much detail and you clearly knew where everyone was and when

also just out of pure curiosity, did you have any sort of map of the world its set in? Or just the mental image ?

"You clearly knew where everyone was and when." Raph let me tell you it was a literal miracle I only had like one or two slip-ups on that end (that I know of). To this day I have no idea how I got away with it. There were just so many moving parts with five teams, fifteen people, and however many breakups/makeups/exes/friendships to keep track of. I had to remember which characters knew which bits of information at any given time, which characters were still left in the dark about certain things, and what lives everyone was on. I kept forgetting that players do NOT respawn with their belongings during this game and had to keep fixing that, same idea with trying to remember where everyone's last sleeping spot was so that they'd respawn in the correct locations whenever they died. It was… a lot. Not saying this fic wasn't still insanely fun to write though. It was both of those those things.

I did have an outline made that I roughly stuck to that covered a decent amount of what happened from beginning to end. A lot of it got cut out cause that fic was getting WAY too long. But to answer your question, yeah, there was a LOT of planning. My outline for this fic literally just consisted of a bunch of 1-3 sentence paragraphs explaining what events would pass and why in very simple terms, and even that took up like a couple dozen pages. But there was also a lot of stuff that I threw in while the fic was still being updated.

Like, I still wanted to try to work in what was going on with the cc's in the real world since most of this story was suppose to take place 6 months later. So when 6 months later had passed in real life I tried to tweak the story accordingly as best I could which really just required me to change up a few of the places they went to once the game had ended. The decision to have Jimmy flee to Evo was also something I changed while still posting chapters. I was thinking about somehow making him go back to the Third Life server instead but then thought: "How cool would it be if Grian's emotions were tied to Evo and that caused his, Jimmy's, and Bigb's conversation to be 10x more dramatic?" So I did that instead.

Then there was also a change with the Deep Frost Citadel, the location for that setting getting changed a couple of times. I was originally gonna have Scott tell Tango he loved him for the first time back in Tumble Town but then only realized months later that "wait- wait a minute… It NEVER RAINS desert biomes!!" So yeah, more tweaking of the story went on there but I definitely think the change ended up being for the better regardless of the whole rain problem, lol. But yeah, once again: a lot. A lot of planning went into that story (what I wouldn't give to be half as enthusiastic about actual important life stuff as I was with this fic). But there was also a lot that was changed and cleaned up as it was still being written.

As for a map, I HAD one at one point but ended up tossing it once the fic ended. But here's a hasty re-drawing from memory that I may or may not have forgotten to include a few things in:

I actually had some fun remaking this, so thank you for that! Also huge thanks for reading my fic! I am losing my marbles at the fact that you liked it enough to read it four times and that it’s one of your favorites too? Oh my god?? Thank you so much!

[fallcrestrpg]

lıllı Hotel - Avraham Suite - Morning 12/26 ıllıllı

JULIA

As much as she wished the kids would stay as babies forever, the sense of relief to know that they finally reverted back to their original selves was greater. "It was nice of Thyra and Andy to bring Levi with them." How long had it been since she actually *slept in*? It felt like an eternity.

LEO

Leo let out a scoff at the blonde's words as she stretched, having admittedly slept in herself as well. "Bold of you to assume that Thyra wasn't already chomping at the bit to spend the day with him...or that Levi wasn't just waiting to revert back so he could _verbally_ get Andy to do his bidding."

JULIA

Pulling the cover over her shoulder while turning onto her side to snuggle into her pillow, Julia chuckled at the thought of Levi ordering Andy around - while Thyra watched. "They also brought their new puppy with them so I'm sure Levi is having a blast playing with all the dogs right now, especially since he can run better with them now." She drew quiet for a while before asking, "While sleeping in has been fantastic, do we have plans for today?"

LEO

"Oh, yeah I don't think we're giong to see that boy again unitl tomorrow around lunch...at the _earliest_," Leo noted. He was very fond of Andy and Thyra, and despite the vamps claims, they were both very fond of him as well. Levi just had that kind of sense about him, she supposed. At the question, she began to look over her nails as she replied, "I can only speak for myself, but now that my daughter has gone from a toddler to a full-grown teenager, and her personal security is busy otherwise, I'm just waiting for the resort to send me a notification that she's even remotely left the building so I can proceed to make sure she doesn't become a literal snack for a succubus -who I would totally trust with my own life, but my daughter's her type so..."

JULIA

Her hand slipped around Leo's waist as a very minimal effort to prevent the woman from going after her daughter. "Maybe we should hire another guard so that the kids have their own in case days like this happen where Andy can't be in two places at once aaaand you won't have to tail your own daughter." It wasn't that she was less worried than Leo, but she also didn't want to have to stalk their own daughter. "Obie's with them too, right? Maybe they'll about to go on a walk with him."

LEO

Leo sank back into the mattress, a half-sitting position that let her still relish in the small hold of sorts. "I mean, there are dozens of guards on the payroll, her actual _safety_ isn't entirely my concern so much as... well... we were both Evan and Embry's ages once. And yes, Emmy has proven to be a very mature and reserved young lady, but she's also coming into her own recently and....I really should just back off and let her actually _live_ huh?"

JULIA

"Well, I want to give Emmy the benefit of the doubt that if we stick a guard with her, they're less likely to try anything unless Evan decides to shimmer them away on purpose." She tried to reason. Like Leo said, they were their ages once, they can't control everything that happens. "We should try to believe in our daughter - and her girlfriend a little more."

LEO

She sighed. "I joke around a lot, ham up the whole 'protective mom' bit, but I do want to make it very clear that the issue isn't a lack of trust. In _either_ girl. I love them both dearly -would never just say that to Evan's face though, she might get werid on me- but I also know that in her efforts to be all-in with helping with the kids as babies, and on top of that how she had been refraining form random feedings because she really wanted to prove her respect for Emmy- I'm just concerned for their _health_ if and when the inevitable happens...which is likely sooner than later."

JULIA

"Times like this sorta makes you want that Paladin powers they talkeda bout where they could all sense each other - well, to a degree i guess. I don't think any of them wants to be feeling *all* the feelings." She already had a feeling that a few kids might have chosen to stay in instead of heading outside. "But this is something they'll have to work out themselves ..in whatever method they want it to be. Are you planning to have another talk with them about it? There's only so much we can do to keep them safe."

LEO

"Yeah, I don't think _any_ of her paladins want to be around Skylar right now," she mumbled, the girl's 'love' being a notorious well-known fact about her. Leo rolled her eyes a bit and said, "I mean, there really isn't much mote to be said, and it would honestly just make me feel like a giant hypocrite because I _am_ so not the epitome of 'safe and well thought out sex'."

JULIA

"Yes, we're the definition of 'do as we say, not as we do'. Neither of us would've been good examples to follow." She chuckled, "While it's really nice to see you being so concerned about them, and I completely understand why, there's really nothing we can do except ***trust ***them. They're both adults."

LEO

"Why do I get the feeling your entire plan was to let me just talk myself in circles until I gave up on the idea of trailing our teenager?" Leo asked, though it was more rhetorical than anything else. "I mean, I'm not entirely complaining. It does give my parenting ego a boost to see I can manage a sensible plan on my own."

JULIA

She chuckled and gave a shrug, "You have the ability to shimmer away to do so if you really wanted to." She turned back onto her her back and raised her arms as she stretched, groaning as she did so. "Or maybe I'm just really comfy right now that I don't think I'd be able to stop you from taking off." She smiled.

LEO

Leo rolled her eyes and scoffed at the response. "You certainly look _really comfy_. Makes me wonder what the point if asking if we had any plans was, given you sound like you have a long overdue day-long date with this mattress," she laughed. "Should I give you two some time alone?"

JULIA

"*Noo*." The blonde actually whined out while a hand shot out from under the covers to grip Leo by the wrist. "It'd be lonely if you left me here all alone - Just because I can't stop you, doesn't mean I'd want you to actually go." She sighed, "I should get up, shouldn't I?"

LEO

She laughed at the woman's antics, "Well now, I would just feel guilty if you left your comfy bed. Especially _now_ that you've made it clear you don't actually wan to." Leo leaned back against the headboard, glancing down at Julia with a cheeky grin. "I suppose we'll just have to find a way to keep ourselves busy from here...room service?"

JULIA

"Ohh.. It's also lunch right now, isn't it?" She hummed, "Well, brunch for us - *oh* I want I want that Set C I saw the other day. And - Where's their menu?" Julia wasn't much of a foodie, but if they were going to enjoy their day staying in, she's going to enjoy to its fullest. "And ice cream. Is it too early for ice cream?"

LEO

"I mean, I really suppose on how hungry you are and _what_ you happen to be in the mood for," Leo drawled, a pensive look on her face, "But I'm almost certain that if you can think of it, we can find a way to get it delivered. Room service or otherwise." She handed the menu from the bedside table over to the blonde, before reaching for her phone when it dinged. "Embry and Evan are headed out. Evan sends her best."

JULIA

Julia started to look over the menu, taking mental note of what she wanted - sticking strictly to brunch meals because she simply felt like it. "Does that lessen your worry?" She chuckled without looking up, "At least they're not stuck in their rooms anymore." She hummed, "What did you want to eat? I want these.."

LEO

"Not really. The fact they're going to be intimate is at this point inevitable, and if anything, the fact that Evan has opted to get them out and about just proves she's got Embry's well-being in mind first and foremost, which come on, what girl wouldn't fall for even more? Like at this point I may just accept it," Leo replied.

The half-demon let the other go over her meal options in peace. When asked, she hummed herself and said, "I'm good. Food's not entirely appetizing at the moment."

JULIA

"So basically, we should let the girls live their lives - hopefully making good choices, right?" She smiled at the thought that their daughter found someone who was so thoughtful and caring. She honestly couldn't ask for someone better than Evan.

Her eyes finally left the menu and looked over at the other. An eyebrow raised as she suppressed a smirk, "Oh? That what is?"

LEO

"I'm already being a mature adult over the matter, no need to rub it in that this is basically what you've been telling me to do the whole time, okay. I only have so much 'maturity' in me," she half-complained. Leo knew Julia wasn't one to actually say 'I told you so' but that didn't mean she wouldn't get a smug little grin that basically said the same thing.

"No, no. This isn't about me. If the menu items are appetizing to _you_, then by all means. Order away."

JULIA

She put the menu away onto her side table before rolling back to face Leo. "Mmm. If you're not going to eat with me, then that's no fun." She chuckled as she finally decided to sit up a bit more, resting against the headboard but she still brought the cover up over her shoulders. "You obviously have something else in mind."

LEO

"Phrasing," she teased, before watching as the other made their way up to sit next to them. "Okay, I genuinely didn't at first, but now that I've been put under pressure my brain has managed to come up with a few things I would, _personally_, find more appealing than room service right now. That being said, I can't help but feel that you're not really in the mood for anything that doesn't involve you being nice and cozy from head-to-toe, and I don't plan on disrupting that."

JULIA

"Mmm I'm curious to know what exactly you came up with." The wolf scooted over so she could leaned against the taller woman, "Are you sure none of those will involve you being all nice and cozy with me? That's a shame." She said though the smile remained on her face as she rearranged herself so that she could wrap Leo's arms around her.

LEO

Leo just went ahead and let the woman determine the direction their day was taking. There was no resistance to being pulled in closer, and when she felt her own arms being wrapped around the smaller frame, all she managed as an innocent, "Oh? Is it nap time already?"

JULIA

"I don't think either of us going to be able to actually sleep since we literally just woke up." She looked up enough to leave a light kiss against the woman's jaw. "Mm.. it's definitely warmer like this." It was obvious that it wasn't a complaint at all. Who cared if she, as a wolf, barely got cold. She was enjoying every bit of this.

LEO

"Okay," she drawled in response, not really giving much of a reaction to the light kiss. "So if we're not going to sleep, am I to assume that you would like us to spend out first kid-free day cuddling under the blankets, just because I didn't fancy any food?"

JULIA

"That's also because you're not telling me what you wanted to do since you *didn't* want to eat food. Again, I'm not ordering anything if it means I'm eating them all by myself."

LEO

"You really are very bit Levi's mother," she quipped at the near petulant attitude the woman was taking. "I think you should order food regardless of my desire to eat or not, because someone is starting to sound very _hangry_ and I don't want to have to reign that in under any circumstances."

JULIA

"Hmm, while I'm pleased to know that my son takes after me, that does not sound like a compliment at all." She chuckled, "I'm not hangry, I'm just wondering why you won't tell me the ideas that you've had. You know what, I'll eat a protein bar and wait to eat a proper meal later." She said this yet she made no movement to break the position they were in.

LEO

Though she'd managed to last this long, Leo finally broke into laughter at the idea of Julia -full-grown, werewolf Julia- getting _any_ from of satisfaction from a single protein bar. At the frustration clearly mounting in the other's tone, she took a bit of mercy as she stopped laughing. With a trademark smirk clearly in place, she threw the wolf a bone -heh- and said, "I haven't voiced my ideas, because much like the ones I had once-upon-a-time that has landed us hear, they're best kept quiet. Can't have you claiming I'm a terrible influence on you again, now can I?"

JULIA

"Hmmm. Is that so?" She pretended to think about this, "But it did get us here, so maybe not a completely terrible influence..." Her fingers intertwining with Leo's underneath the covers as a smile crept up on her lips.

LEO

"That still implies I'm _some_ level of a terrible influence, and honestly, at this stage in the game who am I to completely turn my back on my own nature," she practically whispered, having closed the distance between them significantly at the encouragement of the laced fingers.

[breathplayed]

17, 29, 48, & 55 😁🫖

oh u GOT me got me lets go

(17) what is your favorite line you’ve ever written? babe plz this one is too hard..... there's too many...... I HAVE 920K WORDS ON AO3 AND ~50K INCOMING I DONT EVEN REMEMBER THEM ALL......... uuhhhhhhhh ok ok ill try to narrow a few down. it's all gonna be recent tho bc that's what i remember most + i have rly been indulging myself stylistically as of late lmao

for just ~pretty language~ my favorites rn are

"Jimin is almost too pretty to mar with mortal hands, but Jungkook finds desecration is half the fun when his hands slip lower" (folie à trois)

"Some floodgate inside him has broken, the last bastion of resistance crumbled, and now he’s a drowning man in the dead waters" (folie à trois)

“I love you,” he whimpers into Taehyung’s kiss like a prayer. Too devout; Taehyung’s hands and lips pause. Jimin’s own lip is already trembling, caught, so he lets the confessional spill like it’s the last Sunday he’ll ever see." (the losing game ch17)

"[Taehyung] used to dream, sometimes, after Jimin was gone, that he was holding him again, that he could crack open Jimin's ribcage and crawl inside to make a home beside his heart before they burned together." (the losing game ch5)

"Sometimes—in his darkest moments, on his worst nights—Jimin dreams about Taehyung carving over each and every one of his scars. Creating clean new edges to each of them, prying fingers in the wound to be as close as possible, rewriting their memories and meanings with a jagged, almost unbearable intimacy." (the losing game ch17)

"The graves we dig ourselves are often the deepest." (the graves we dig..... now thats a real throwback huh)

there's too much i could say for dialogue but.... i'm super fond of the hurtful conversations present!vmin have in tlg (especially ch14, i reread that a lot), ignite the stars ch5 (also reread that a lot), and also i love pretty much everything that comes out of taehyung's mouth in folie à trois lol

(29) give us a spoiler for one of your stories. answered here, but since this one could be answered multiple times i'll bite......... my queue tag ("i'm glad it was queue") is a play on one of my favorite lines in all of tlg that i have been excited about getting to for yeaaaarrrssss. no one but me knows the line yet (or how hurtful its context is) bc it's in one of the final chapters hehehe but it's "i'm glad it was you" ..... :')

(48) do you reread your own stories? the answer to this used to be a strong NO!!!! but that has actually changed in the last two years! i don't rly reread anything older (my writing style has changed so much + there's things i'd change about older fics esp <2020 so it's not an enjoyable experience to me, i'd just fret over editing it) but there's some newer fics i reread bc they are So written to my own taste. i think i really improved a lot getting to write a bunch in lockdown lol + started caring less about whether ppl liked the fic and just wrote for ✨Me✨ so several of those recent fics i'm happy with and do reread sometimes like a stupid idiot narcissus

The ones i've reread the most are "sit, stay" + "sea legs" + favorite parts of "ignite the stars" and my favorite parts of "the losing game". the other scattered pwp's since 2020 have gotten reread about twice each. and i recently reread WBIO for the first time since writing it in early 2020!!! mixed feelings on that one bc i felt like i would change some parts of it if i wrote it today but that's a sign ur growing and improving i suppose

(55) do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them? oh i have so fucking many 'WIPs' it's not even funny. there's probably like ~12 completely bullet point outlined medium length / longfics in my docs down to exact dialogue i'd write, and dozens more fic attempts that have a whole plot and ending. bc as soon as i come up with an idea i already immediately know how i want it to end. which gives me way too many Plot Bunnies that are viable to be turned into fics!!!!! two years ago i made a list of every idea i thought should at least see the light of day in threadfic form if not an actual fic and it came out to 30 fics lol (and that was cutting it down to the essentials)

the thing is, very few of my WIPs are ever 'abandoned' in my mind, it's more like... i put them in my mental freezer. on hold / on ice. and some of them are closer to the front and get taken out and rotated around and worked on more often, while others are shoved to the far back of the freezer as i say "i'll make that someday" and forget it exists til the next time im reminded of it. there's only a few that i'd actually toss in the trash (aka truly abandon and never work on again).

the ones that are definitely abandoned in that i know i dont Want to write them are all on the more domestic romcom side (think like 'meaner than mean' or 'i like us like this') i know people like those but they're the hardest thing for me to write, those were the most annoyed i've ever felt while writing, i would literally groan out loud working on them, i am rly only happy writing conflict/angst or pwp lol

tbh, if i were to be realistic with myself, i'd say most of these wip's are 'abandoned' in that i probably will never get around to finishing them. but i dont want to call them abandoned because i do like the plots, and think ppl would like them, and want to share them!!! i just think they would suck / not be fun to write. Maybe Someday i will do an archival effort and work on translating as many of them as i can into threadfic form so they see the light of day in some format and are no longer abandoned to rot in my docs... bc there's no way that most of them are ever going to be written the way i wish i could do them justice :') and then i can abandon them knowing that ppl at least got to read a vague outline of what could have been

fun fact: i opened the aforementioned list of all these ideas to count and on one of them, a fic i've been poking at since 2018, i have the note "finish this or die" next to it. guess i know which one i've picked atp 🪦

[randomoranges]

i have not written anything in 45 yrs

i got this silly idea the other day

sometimes u just gotta write a silly

Notifications April 2023

 Edward settles in bed with a book he’s been looking forward to read, when he hears his phone go off somewhere around the living room. He must have forgotten to turn off the volume and the WIFI after watching a video on it, but he can’t really be bothered to get up to shut it. If anything, his phone will discharge and that’s a problem for Future Edward.

 He makes himself comfortable, happy for the blissful quiet of his house, when he hears his phone ping again. Clearly, it’s a coincidence, and he does his best to ignore it to concentrate on the gripping tale in his hands, however, the blasted device screams from the other room and Edward cannot ignore it anymore.

 Maybe, he thinks, as he gets out of his comfortable bed with a huff, slipping his feet inside his slippers, it’s an emergency and at this point it better be. Whoever this person is has successfully interrupted his down time and he will not stand for this. (Granted, he should have turned his device off as he normally does, but that’s a detail.)

 By the time Edward finds his phone – nestled between the couch pillows – practically hidden, there must have been half a dozen other pings and dings that had reverberated throughout his living room and when Edward finally unlocks the damned thing, it’s to find that someone’s liked a myriad of photos of him on Facebook. (Which reminds him, he needs to ask Calvin to stop a) taking candid shots of him and b) posting them on social and c) tagging him in them.)

 Edward nearly and almost chucks his phone across the room.

 To think he’d been bothered by that.

 And here he thought there’d been an emergency.

 This will teach him.

 He puts the volume off and is about to shut the thing completely, but then another notification comes in and his curiosity gets the best of him.

 Who the ever loving fuck is stalking his photos and why?

 He’s only partially surprised when he sees that all nineteen notifications have come from the same person; Étienne M. Maisonneuve.

 Annoyed, but mildly so, and now more intrigued, he fires off a quick text message as he walks back to his room.

 Message to Curly:

You know if you wanted my attention, you could have just called instead of sending your weird SOS

 He picks up his book, intent, really, to read it, but he finds himself picking up his phone again to see if Étienne will answer him or if he’s done with his little social experimentation.

 Message from: Curly

Édouard!!!! Hi :D

 Judging by the message, Étienne is not in distress but he might be up to no good. It is Friday night after all and that could mean a multitude of things.

 Message to Curly:

Hello yourself. I thought you were out tonight?

 Maybe it’s tomorrow night, but he’s pretty convinced Étienne had mentioned he was going out Friday night, last time they had spoken.

 Message from: Curly

I an ouyt and about!

**out

***am

 Edward grins at the corrections.

 Message to Curly:

How drunk are you lol?

 Message from: Curly

Might be a biiiiiittttttttttttt gone ahahahaha. Maye habe had a drinkly b4 going out with the gays.

*guys

**well theyre also gay HAHAHA.

 He kind of hates how he does actually crack a smile at the joke, but he schools his face in a neutral expression, even though he is aware that Étienne cannot see him.

 Message to Curly:

Then why are you going through old photos of me and liking them? Is the party that boring?

 Message from: Curly

Noooooo. Parties realy good.

*Party’s

**?? Idk what speilling is anywmore

Im having a smoke outside.

 Message to Curly:

And you decided to look up photos of me? Instead of socialising with everyone else?

 He doesn’t mean it as a reprimand. He just knows how Étienne works and how he’ll start a conversation with anyone within a foot of him.

 Message from: Curly

Éfodouard!

**Édouard!

See. I Loïc and Daniel wanted to see photographic proof of you ecisting.. So I found a photo of you on FB bcs I emptied my phone like yesterday so it’s void of you now ;(  which I knoe is a travesty. But. So I went on FB and then showed them ur profile pic. And then I went out for a smoke and there was literally no one outside. So I returned to FB and started looking and then I found like a million of photos that I had never seen??????? So I had to like them. To show be supportive.

 Message to Curly:

Uh-huh.

 It’s not that Edward doesn’t believe him; he just finds the tale a little amusing. That and how completely gone Étienne’s sentence structure seems to be.

 Message from: Curly

Shhhhh. Ure like fcking hot okay???? Im not allowed to look at photos of my hot bf??????

 He forgets how much blunter Étienne becomes when he’s had a few drinks and who knows what else and so, the message takes him by surprise. He feels his face heat up and puts his phone down for a moment to compose himself.

 Message to Curly:

You can look all you want but those are old.

 They are. Some are from before they got together. Then again, it’s not like he can stop him from it anyways.

 Message from: Curly

I don’t care. I hadnt seen them b4. Plus I totally still look at older pics of u n me from way back. We were total killers anywahs hahah.. But u look happy in these. N cute. N lovelyyyy. Did calvin take them???? Msurprised u don’t look ready to murder him ahahahahahahha.

Jk

But tell him thank u for the photos hahahahahaah

If he took them lol

Or just thank u to the person who took the photos

Also I havent seen u in like 45 yrs so I have to look at pics to not forget what u look like :(

 He would have looked ready to murder Calvin if he would have been aware that Calvin was taking any of these. Yet, it seems as though Calvin has the uncanny knack of snapping a photo when he isn’t looking. And – they aren’t bad photos, really. However, he will need to have a chat with Calvin about this, or at the very least keep a better eye on what he gets tagged in. (In Calvin’s defence, the photos are all very tame; one of him out gardening from last summer, another from a recent walk when he’d stopped to look at a window display and such.)

 Message to Curly:

Your life truly is tragic.

 Message from: Curly

It is the tragicest. Édouaaaaard. When will I see u again????? :( :( :(

 Message to Curly:

Soon, hopefully. I miss you too <3

 Message from: Curly

:D

Ok. Smoke finished and its cold outside. I will let u go back to ur old man routine <3

 Message to Curly:

Who says I’m not out having fun as well??

 He’s almost insulted that Étienne would assume that he’s not out and about, but then again, it’s not as if Étienne is wrong either. Plus, he can imagine Étienne’s stupid little pleased smile and he’s a sucker for it something fierce. Another good thing that they’re not currently occupying the same space, otherwise, Étienne would have seen through him. Then again, maybe not, if only for the fact that Étienne isn’t really sober at the moment. He could use that to his advantage.

 Message from: Curly

Pls. I know u. u have something tmrw nite. U like having one night of Calm TM.

 Message to Curly:

Maybe I’ve changed. New year new me and all.

 Message from: Curly

Hahahahahahahaha. Ure so funny Édouard. Hot and funny ;)

 Edward huffs. It’s not fair that even in his inebriated state, Étienne still manages to get the upper hand on him. He’ll have to concoct some revenge plan for a later date.

 Message to Curly:

You just like tormenting me.

 Message from: Curly

I do. It’s super fun. Ure super fun.

Oh!

I know!

We should go out next time ure here!

Like before – but better!

Its not the same as before but its still fun. We can have fun!!!!

Go out!!!!!

Plus like last time and the one before or wtv was fcking lame bcs curfew and shit. Or just panini stuff.

Theres a few cool places ud like.

 Message to Curly:

I’ll leave the planning to you then.

 They don’t need to go out. He likes just spending time with Étienne, even if all they do is hangout in his backyard. But – he knows Étienne likes showing him the sights and taking him out and he doesn’t mind.

 He thinks about it for a moment – they really haven’t been out to a club since the fallout and the getting back together. He wonders what it would be like. For starters, the scene has changed tremendously. Then, there’s the fact that they’ve both changed over the past few decades – for the better, thankfully. He knows it’ll be different than it had been before, but he also knows (and hopes) that it’ll be fun. If anything, Étienne had always been good at that.

 Message from: Curly

Ok. Ok im going back in now

Yesssss.. Enjoy ur wtv. Ill call u next. I love you <3 xxxxxxxxxxxxx

 Message to Curly:

Looking forward to it. Be safe. Love you too. <3 xx

 He waits a moment longer, almost certain Étienne isn’t quite done, and he laughs loudly, when there’s one more notification that pops up on his phone. He shuts if off afterwards and finally picks up his book for good.

 FIN

[quindolyn]

Hey I was wondering if you could write a sub!regulus X Dom!fem reader fic?

One where it’s angsty as Regulus had been acting different around the reader, and eventually after being questioned about it alone, Regulus breaks down and admitting his parents forced him to get the dark mark (there was nothing he could do about it), and the reader comforts him while they fuck. Regulus had been through a lot and the reader wants him to know that they love him.

Including: praise kink, subspace regulus, scar/mark kissing, aftercare for regulus, riding, and anything else you think would suit this situation <3

Resilience || Regulus Black

Word Count: 6154

A/N: Do I hate this? Yes, most definitely, without a doubt. Did I only proof read 5/15 pages. Yes, again, certainly. But I'm tired and I'm with my friend so it's not gonna get better than this. I love you all and hope you enjoy it

warnings: pretty much included in the ask, can't really think of anything else

Being light on your feet it doesn’t appear as though Regulus notices you tip toeing your way across the Slytherin common room. As you come up behind him you peer over his shoulder; he has his legs tucked beneath him with what appears to be his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook resting in his lap. Standing over his shoulder you let your eyes scan across the pages laid open and what you first believed to be a chapter on counter curses you realized was actually detailing how to cast the curse.

Realizing what you’d just read you let out a small, involuntary gasp that catches the attention of the boy sitting in front of you.

“(Y/N)!” Regulus quickly exclaims, glancing over his shoulder before slamming the book closed and sliding it into his book bag which sits next to him on the plush, green velvet sofa.

“What was that Reg?” You ask, brow furrowed as your eyes lock onto Regulus’ grey ones.

“Just a book love, that’s all.”

“Your Defense textbook?” You ask, hoping he would slide it back out of his satchel to show you the familiar scarlet cover you’d scratched your initials into on the bottom right hand corner.

“Something of the sort,” He answers vaguely, pushing himself off the couch to face you. Instead of making his way around the couch to meet you he stayed on the other side of the piece of furniture. Feet planted, hands fiddling with each other while instead of making eye contact with you his gaze seemed to be directed just past your right ear.

“Don’t lie to me Regulus,” Your voice is clipped, when you’d come to check in on Regulus after he’d come home from winter break at his dreaded family’s house this wasn’t what you had expected.

Regardless, it was what you’re met with, “What the hell is that book?”

Your voice jumps and you can hear the panic rising in it. Regulus had spent the weeks up to his departure date dreading the time he would have to spend at the Black Mansion. You’d stayed up countless nights, wishing you could somehow keep him from having to go to that hellish house but when it came down to it there was nothing either of you could do.

Finding him pouring over some dark arts book the first time you saw him after nearly two weeks apart wasn’t exactly the reunion you’d been picturing in your head. Nor was it comforting.

You can barely make it out but you believe you hear him whimper something about “it’s nothing” as his gaze drops from just over your shoulder to his toes.

You two stand there for a minute, then two, each waiting for the other to say something, anything to break the tension currently hanging heavy over the room. Regulus silently begging you to let it go, to leave the room and give him some time to stash the book before coming to find you to act as though nothing had happened and it was all fine.

Unwilling to yield, you hold your ground, maintaining your silence while your eyes bore into the top of his head, awaiting his explanation as to what you’d walked into.

You’re the one to finally break the silence.

“If it's nothing, then I’d like to see it Regulus.” It's the second time in the span of five minutes you opt for his full name instead of one of the nicknames coined by his brother, who he’d recently mended things with, and made popular by yourself. You knew it would strike a cord for him but you were scared, you were on the offensive.

With a deep sigh Regulus retrieves his bag from the spot it’d fallen to on the floor, pulling the book from the bag, bound in emerald green, Regulus hold it both far from his body and with a surprisingly tight hold, somehow both wanting it as far from him as possible and not wanting it to leave his grasp.

Though visibly ancient the book appears to be in remarkable condition, engraved on the front cover in gold leaf reads “Mendel's Most Malicious Curses”.

Studying the cover you don’t recognize the book’s title but based on what you’d glimpsed inside of its pages you hadn’t expected to. Even as a fifth year you doubt this would ever be included in O.W.L. curriculum.

Despite knowing better you can’t help but feel a strange, strong attraction to the book, an overwhelming urge consuming you to take that book. Your fingers itch at your sides as you imagine getting your hands on the book, wondering how hard Regulus would fight before relinquishing it from his grasp.

Somewhere in your subconscious you register that these thoughts are not organically your own, that somehow that book is influencing you and that in reality you want nothing to do with it. Frightened thoughts simmer at the back of your mind but they are lost in the shadows of your curiosity regarding the secrets that lie beneath the ornate designs swirling over the cover.

Expectantly you extend your arm, a nonverbal signal for Regulus to hand you the book but your movement throws him into action and has him clutching it close to his chest, both arms cradling the text.

“No no no no no,” He chants frantically, shaking his head as though to shake off the thought of relinquishing the book to you. “I can’t give you this (Y/N),” He swallowed deeply, shining silver eyes seaking out yours, ablaze with conviction.

“And why’s that?” You challenge with a raise of your brow.

Inhaling deeply he seems to be bracing himself to respond, “Because you’re a muggle born, it’s not meant for you to touch.”

You can feel rage bubbling up in your stomach, threatening to spill out your mouth in a flurry of angry words admonishing Reg for his remarks, “What? Is my simple muggle born mind not worthy enough to read words in that precious little pureblood book of yours? Do I need my pedigree intact to understand what it says? Not meant for mutts, is that it?”

You thought you were past this, you thought you’d left the aloof little third year you’d first met who’d called you a mudblood and asked you to move to a different table in the library because he didn’t want you looking at his charms homework behind.

Had the past year and a half of apologies and growth on Regulus’ part all been a lie? Was that hate not as small a part of your boyfriend as you’d thought? Did it really only take just shy of two weeks back with his biggoted relatives for him to start spewing this pureblood nonsense again?

Bouncing around in your head those questions overwhelm you as you try to ignore the most pressing one, pushing at the forefront of your mind.

Does he even love you?

“B-because you’re not a pureblood, this book (Y/N), it can’t be held by anyone not of pureblood,” Reg’s shaking voice broke through the flurry of questions wreaking chaos in your mind.

“God damn it Regulus! I thought we were past this! I thought-”

“It’ll kill you (Y/N)!” His voice is frantic and you pick up on the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to leak over.

Those words that seemed to carry a fatality in themselves cleared away the din clouding your mind, everything went silent. Too silent even as the implication of those words wash over you.

That book may as well be a gun, cocked and being held steady at your temple as you feel tears of your own begin to well in your eyes, distorting your vision.

The mess of questions doesn’t return to your mind, instead they begin thumping one by one at the base of your brain though they all carry through the same theme.

How could he have brought that near you?

“Kill me?” You curse yourself for how obvious your voice is shaking but the book that just moments earlier you were dying to get your hand on seems to have cast an oppressive air over the room and has you recoiling away from your boyfriend.

Regulus nods, holding eye contact with you as he slips the book back into his bag, sliding it under the sofa before cautiously striding towards you.

“That's why I can’t give it to you to look at, it's cursed and if you so much as bump it you’ll…” His voice trails off, the words too terrible to speak aloud.

Your arms wrap around yourself, clutching as hard as they can as you fight to wrangle your thoughts under control. His response revealed to you that he doesn’t intend to hurt you, not with the book anyways which has dozens of other worries popping up in your head. You’re desperate for answers as to what happened to Regulus at his house. He seems ready to give them to you as he offers to take you back to his dorm away from any prying eyes or ears that may lurk about in the Slytherin common room.

You’d both agreed to arrive back at school two days early hoping to get some alone time in but that didn’t mean that the castle was empty and that anyone couldn’t walk into his common room at any moment.

You stall as he lets you into his dorm, you’ve been there a thousand times, often under the mask of night but your usual spot, atop his always made perfectly bed, seems wrong now. Without answers to your countless questions the entire room feels foregin to you and leaves you standing by his desk, not quite leaning against it but also not quite supporting your own weight.

Regulus seems equally awkward but eventually settles on his bed, perched precariously on the edge of the mattress, he barely looks comfortable.

You stay there so long in silence that after a while your breathing syncs, the singular sound becoming the only noise in the drafty room.

Long after it becomes clear Regulus isn’t going to speak first and you finally tire of the silence you find your voice, somewhere deep inside of you summoning the words to your most pressing worry; “What happened at your house Regulus? What did they do to you?”

Your words have him crumbling, your usually stoic boy folding in on himself until he is but a ball hanging off the bed.

You hesitate for a single second before you’re racing towards him, dropping before him at his knees to cup his face in your palms. Directing his visage upwards to meet yours you feel your heart wrench in your chest as you take in his puffy, red eyes, red nose and flushed cheeks already marred with twin trails of salty tears cascading down his face.

“Regulus,” You choke out feeling tears from earlier resurface as you push yourself off the ground to take your place next to the scared boy beside you.

Pulling him into your lap as much as his size permits you too you take great care in cradling his head, clutching him to your chest as your rock gently back and forth humming into his hairline in hopes to calm his sobs. Raw and ragged they each tear at the fragile, brave exterior you’ve erected in hopes of comforting the boy, giving him something solid to hold onto.

Whispering sweet nothings into his ear you feel him melt into your touch, slowly the breathing becomes stronger and his sobs quiet to weak sniffles swallowed by the occasional gulp.

Feeling him shift under your touch you can tell he’s working himself up to something, he always gets fidgety when he’s trying to summon the courage to do something hard, his movement triggers a memory.

It floods through your mind as you’re reminded of a similarly terrified Regulus, knees bumping against the table at breakfast one lazy Sunday as he repeatedly bounced them, seemingly unable to sit still. He’d spent weeks working himself up to speaking to his brother for the first time in far too long.

The memory of him being so strong and brave even as the entirety of the Great Hall tracked his movement from the Slytherin table to the Gryffindor had you drawing a deep breath. The strength the memory provides you has you summoning the breath to prompt Regulus into some sort of explanation, anything.

“Reggie, your mother gave you that book didn’t she?”

He goes still at your words and even involuntary actions seem to still, his lungs draw no breath and his pulse seems to fade away under your touch.

“Bellatrix,” His voice is hoarse from crying, “Her idea of a Christmas gift.”

“That bitch,” You spit.

“Walburga’s was worse.”

You pause at the mention of her name, there is no doubt in your mind that he is the one who’s actions have sent Regulus into this downward spiral of despair and fear. You’re not even sure if you wanna hear what he has to stay but what you want stopped being important a long time ago.

“Do you wanna show me Reg?” You ask, breathless.

“No,” Comes his meak voice, “But I need to.”

You nod understandingly as you regrettably allow him to slip from your grasp so he can turn to face you, one leg tucked under his bum and the other hanging over the edge of the bed.

His eyes are downcast before he peaks them up through thick, dark lashes to meet your gaze, “Do you promise not to hate me (Y/N/N)? I don’t know if I can do this if you hate me.”

Your brows are drawn together as your response comes emphatically, “I could never hate you Regulus, I could never and I will never.”

“You can’t make that promise,” He says through a watery chuckle, leaving you wondering where the hilarity in the situation was. “I shouldn’t have asked you to.”

“Regulus,” You latched onto his hand before he could turn away from you, “I am incapable of hating you my love, please. Tell me what happened.”

Silver eyes locked with yours as though they would reveal the solidity of your promise. You’re not sure what answer he found in them but regardless he broke your gaze as he snuck his hand out of yours.

You watch as he slowly rolls up his sleeve and an idea as to what he’s going to show you begins to form and you find yourself regretting ever demanding to know what’s going on. You quickly shove those thoughts back down, there's no use in even entertaining them, ignoring your problems won’t make them go away.

Your worst fears are confirmed as Regulus rolls the sleeve of his black sweater to reveal swirling black ink sunk deep into his skin. Even just by looking at it you could feel the permanence of the ink, the meaning behind it causing a chill to shoot through your bones.

In the back of your head this had always been a possibility but not one you’d ever truly considered. You always thought that you would be able to get yourself and Reg away from everyone, from everything. Blood purity, the ministry, his family.

You were going to get out and you’d thought you’d have plenty of time, half way through his fifth year neither of you ever expected him to be forced to take the Dark Mark before his eighteenth birthday.

You were supposed to have until his eighteenth birthday.

Staring at the ink that seemed to pulse with life against the pale white of Regulus’ skin you suppose that it doesn’t really matter what you were supposed to have, what was supposed to happen. Regulus has taken the dark mark.

Godric, Regulus has taken the dark mark.

“Y-Your mother did this to you?” Your voice wobbles, anger, confusion, and terror evident in your voice, each betraying the strong front you’re trying to keep up for Regulus.

“She came for me in the middle of the night, (Y/N/N). First time I’ve ever been woken by her instead of Sirius or a house elf and she forced me up, made me get dressed before taking me downstairs and they were all there,” His voice cracks as a silent sob racks his body, you can only imagine how difficult it must be to relive the horrific events of that night. Hoping to provide him with any sort of comfort you inch closer to him, throwing your arm around his shoulder allowing him to rest his head on yours before continuing.

“They were all there (Y/N), not just her and Father. Bellatrix, Cissa and her husband, the Lestranges,” He pauses to swallow, “ And him. He was there.”

Regulus needn’t clarify who “he” was. The idea that he had even been near Regulus made you sick to your stomach and you could feel the distinct sensation of bile rising tickle at the back of your throat.

“Shhh, it's okay Reg,” You soothe, tightening your grip on him as sobs shake his body, “It’s going to be okay Red we’re going to figure this out.”

“He did this to me,” He sobs as he shakes in your lap, letting the enormity of his circumstances finally sink in after suppressing it for the past week, the fear of your response keeping him occupied.

To say you aren’t scared would be a lie, you’re fucking terrified but holding Regulus’ trembling form you know that this decision was not his. He would never swear allegiance to a group hell bent on destroying you and people like you, a few years ago maybe but not today. Not the Regulus you’d come to love, even if it began despite yourself.

Without hesitation you reach out, wrapping your hand around the skin now stained by dark magic.

Regulus let’s out a hiss at your touch and you feel him tense under your hand, afraid you’ve hurt him you start to pull away, “Does that hurt Reg?” You ask warily.

“Yes,” He spits out through gritted teeth, “But don’t let go please,” He pleads, raising his gaze to meet yours, “Please don’t let go.”

“Not gonna let go,” You promise, keeping your hold on his forearm tight.

Dipping your fingers under the strong bone of his mandible you turn his visage upwards to meet yours, heart breaking at the sadness and pain swimming in those beautiful grey eyes of his. Slowly you lean in before your eyelashes are brushing against the soft skin of his cheeks and your eyes flutter closed as you watch his do the same.

Your lips brush each other’s gently as your hand cups the side of his face, giving you complete control of the kiss as you keep the swipes of your lips light, you can just barely make out the taste of the pomegranate lip balm you’d given him as a part of your holiday gift to him.

“I didn’t wanna take it (Y/N/N),” He sniffles against your lips, “I don’t wanna be a Death Eater, I don’t wanna hurt you.” The sincerity in his voice has more tears welling in your eyes, you just can’t bear to see your beautiful boy in so much pain.

“Oh I know you don’t bubba I know,” You calm him, throwing a leg over to the other side of his lap so that you can perch yourself atop the hard smooth surface of his thighs. Gently pressing kisses along the canvas of his face you feel his arms wrap around your waist and the tips of fingers graze against your ass as his hands hover above it.

“Can I touch you please?” His words are barely audible but his desperation is loud and clear.

You grant permission as you lean forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one more passionate than the last. Posing little, if any, challenge before letting your tongue delve into his mouth, quickly claiming dominance over his as you feel his palms clutch the globes of your ass, kneading the soft flesh as he holds onto you as tight as possible.

With care you slowly guide him onto his back as your lips trail from his down the column of his throat, in your journey down you leave sloppy hickeys along the delicate skin of his neck. Pulling away slightly you smile to see the various shades of purple and blue painted along his pretty ivory skin.

You know you’re going to have a real conversation about this later, what it means, what the two of you are ready to do about it but right now all you can think about is how you can make your pretty boy feel better, how you can show him that your love for him hasn’t changed. And there’s one way you know how to do that best.

“Do you want me to make you feel good Reggie?” You whisper against his skin as your lips ghost over his collar bone, drinking in his scent.

“Please,” He whimpers, “Need you.”

That’s all you need to hear before your hands are delving under the hem of Reg’s sweater, hands sliding against the smooth planes of his abs, your hands gliding over the occasional ridge of a long healed scar.

Sliding the hem up all the way to his collarbone you look down to see the beautiful lines of his chest and stomach. The scars you’ve become used to seeing a dark but faded pink now shine an almost brilliant purple as though the dark magic imprinted upon his arm had somehow interfered with scars caused by Walburga, most of them when he was much younger. You know for a fact that there are more ones on his back, deeper and darker from taking longer to heal.

“Come on pretty boy,” You coach, propping him up so that you can slip the soft sweater over his head before discarding it over your shoulder, “There we go, that’s a good boy.”

He lets out a low whine at your praising words as his hips thrust up towards yours which are perched directly atop them.

While removing your own sweater you smile, realizing it’s actually one of Regulus’ old Quidditch jumpers from the year prior. With no bra beneath your top your tits are left bare for Regulus’ viewing. His eyes gloss over as lust creeps into the stormy grey of his irises, they’re locked on your tits as though they’re the most beautiful things he’s ever seen.

“Do these hurt more than normal baby?” You ask as your fingertips graze over the raised scars on his chest, if the dark magic of the dark mark made his scars more sensitive you wanna be careful not to hurt him.

“A little.”

Frowning you lean down to press your lips against the puckered scars, your kisses light and fleeting as you trace the dark lines with your lips.

Dancing from one scar to another you hear him exhale deeply and the tension seems to be slowly leaving his body as he settles into the mattress and he becomes malleable under your touch.

“You’re so beautiful Reg,” You praise against his scarred skin, needing him to understand just how much you love him.

“I love you so much,” You look up through your lashes to see Regulus’ eyes already locked on your body.

“I love you too.”

With that your lips are ceasing his once more as you feel the overwhelming need to comfort your boy. Gently, you grind your hips up against his as you become lost in the kiss, savoring the feeling of his lips against yours before you feel a familiar bulge pressing on you.

Your hand ventures back down the hard muscle of his stomach before you bump against the bulge of his erection, straining against the soft material of his sweatpants. You palm gently over his cock as your face buries itself in the crook of his neck, giving him sweet, light kisses while teasing his throbbing member.

“Please,” Comes his choked pleas at being teased, “Please, need more.”

“Of course pretty boy,” You promise as you lift yourself off of him, giving him one last kiss at the waistband of his sweatpants before helping him ease off his bottoms and boxers.

Once he’s devoid of all clothing you too strip down so that you’re both bare naked, your eyes are fixed on the red, weeping head of his half hard cock, sitting against the inside of his muscled thigh.

He whimpers as your hand wraps around his member, pumping up and down his hardening length, brushing your thumb along the sensitive tip of his cock.

“Wanna be inside of you,” He whimpers, hands grappling for your wrist to stall your movements and pull you on top of him but all he succeeds in doing is making you stubble closer to him.

You release your right hand from his cock, instead taking his hand in yours while your unoccupied hands resumes stimulating his member.

“I know you wanna be inside of me, pretty boy, but I gotta get you hard first.”

“But I am hard,” He argues in a pretty little whine, and now that he mentions it you realize that he is harder than he was when you’d pulled him from the tight confines of his pants.

“Your cock’s so gorgeous,” You murmur watching the way he twitches in your hand, “Think you’re hard enough now, yeah?”

He nods his head, squirming as he fights the urge to buck up into your hand.

Making sure that he’s comfortable, propped up against the pillow at the head of the bed you brush away the hair that’s fallen into his face as you straddle his lap, the shaft of his cock pressing against the warmth of your cunt.

Lifting yourself a few inches off his thighs your help guide his prick to your entrance, slowly sinking onto him you allow yourself to take your time accepting each and every inch of him inside of you.

Reg’s eyes are glued to your pussy as he watches himself disappear inside of you, all the way down to his base. His eye brows furrow from the overwhelming pleasure that swims through his veins, sinking deep into his every nerve at the bliss of being completely surrounded by your warm pussy.

Pleasure shoots up your spine at the sensation of slowly becoming full, once you’ve finally taken every inch of him inside you you throw your head back, mouth dropped open as the breath is stolen from your lungs. It feels so good to be so full with him you have to remind yourself to breathe.

“Good boy,” You say breathlessly, rubbing your arms up and down his flexing arms, fists furled with the sheets between them as he too adapts to the sensation that comes with being inside of you.

“You ready for me to move?” You ask once you finally become used to the full feeling.

Desperate nods answered your question, it takes you a minute to find your rhythm but soon you’re grinding his hips against his, lifting yourself slightly off his cock before grinding back down onto him.

Your movements are slower than usual when you fuck Reg, but after the terror he’d gone through in the past weeks you’re deliberate in your gentle movements.

As your hands grip the muscles of his arms you hear him take a sharp breath, your eyes fly open, landing on his face, your movements stalling before you realize that you’re clutching the newly marked skin on his left forearm.

“Oh baby I’m so sorry,” You apologize, loosening your grip on him as your lips frace the dark lines of the ink against his skin.

Seeing that mark on anyone else would’ve made you recoil, have ice shooting through your veins as fear petrified you. While you would’ve preferred never to see that symbol of hate tattooed into Regulus’ skin it didn’t evoke its usual reaction from you. The only fear you have is fear of the future, fear of what lies in wait for the two of you beyond the walls of Hogwarts, but it doesn't matter right now. All that matters is comforting your boy, all you think about as you press your lips to his mark.

You’re pulled from your thoughts when you hear sobs break through Regulus’ lips, quickly you abandon the stain of ink , moving to cradle his head so that your tits are right in his line of vision.

“I thought you were going to hate me,” He cries into your chest, tears wet the soft skin of your tits.

“No baby, I’ll never hate you, not ever.”

You feel the wet warmth of his mouth brush against your right nipple, gazing down you see his tongue lazily circling the pebbled flesh and you’re reminded just how cold the room actually is but pressed up against Regulus it feels like your entire body is on fire.

“You wanna suck on my titty Reggie?”

He responds with a weak nod and quickly you’re easing your nipple into his mouth, helping him find the correct angle all the while stuttering your hips against his.

“You fill me up so good Reg,” Your praise, fingers tangling in the dark mess of curls.

At your praise he begins lifting his hips in times with your thrusts, helping you as you fuck youself on top of him, wanting so desperately to make you feel as good as you make him.

“There we go, that’s a god boy.”

“M’getting close,” His words are muffled by the soft flesh of your tit stuffed into his mouth.

You too are nearing your orgasm as your clit brushes against the hard bone  of his pelvis pulling a sharp whimper from you. To better grant Regulus access to your breast you’ve settled on rolling your hips in circles, ceasing the up and down movement from earlier so as to not disturb him.

A familiar tightness is brewing in your belly as Regulus’ hands run up and down your back before gripping the globes of your butt, maintaining as much physical contact as possible.

“Go ahead bubba, go ahead and cum. Fill me up pretty boy, want your cum. Need your cum. Godric I love you,” You ramble, seizing his lips again, needing them against yours as you feel him cum inside you.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” He mutters as your cunt grips around him with the tell tale signs of your quickly approaching orgasm.

“Y’gonna cum with me baby?” You ask as you press your lips to his forehead, his mouth having once more found the plush of your breast.

“Yes,” He nods, “Please.”

You throw your head back in ecstasy as your orgasm washes over you, wave after wave of pleasure racing through your veins as you ride out your orgasm, continuing to move your hips as you simultaneously help Reg through his. Stars flash behind your closed eyelids as the pleasure building up finally releases, sending you into euphoria so intense it seems to cloud your every sense.

The second he felt your cunt squeeze around his cock it tipped him over the edge and as he lost himself in pleasure, rope after rope of cum releasing inside of you, he tried his best to match the movement of his hips to yours.

You flutter your eyes open as the warmth of his cum floods your pussy as you come down from the height of your orgasm, letting yourself collapse so that your chest is pressed up against his.

With your chests pressed so close together you notice the exact moment that your breathing syncs, feeling as Regulus’ arms wrap around your bare torso keeping you close to his body.

“How are you feeling?” You murmur against the ivory skin of his chest, keeping your voice hushed.

“Better. A little happy.”

Glancing up you catch the smallest smirk slink across his lips as he stares up at the vaulted ceiling.

“Happy?”

“You make me happy,” His eyes flicker to yours as he pulls you closer to him causing his softening prick to slip out of your tight hole. You both hiss as the cool air hits his cock and the cum he’d emptied into you begins flowing out yout pussy.

Regrettably you push yourself off of him, pulling his sweater over your head before waddling into the connecting bathroom, being ever so conscious about the sticky white mess between your legs as you wet a washcloth using warm water from the sink before applying it to the insides of your thighs. Ginger touches hastily cleaning up the excess cum before rinsing the wash cloth to take it to Reg.

“Hey pretty boy,” You coo upon reentering the room to find him in the same position you’d left him in, “You ready for me to clean you up?”

“You look so beautiful in my clothes (Y/N/N),” He responds instead of answering your question, pushing himself onto his elbows so that he can watch you, his black sweater enveloping you all the way to your lower thighs.

“And you’re just beautiful,” You smile, sitting next to him on the mattress. You aren’t lying, he looks absolutely gorgeous leaning back, mop of dark hair in tangled tresses, grey eyes glossed over, abs sheening with sweat as are his equally toned thighs. Merlin bless the poor bastard who invented Quidditch.

Dragging up his muscled legs your eyes settle on his softening member, just as pretty as the rest of him.

With care you make quick work of cleaning the cum off his cock, resting your hand on his thigh when he tries to squirm away from your over stimulating touch.

“I know baby, I know but I gotta get you all nice and clean for me.”

“Hurts,” He mumbles in a pathetic pout.

“I know it does pretty baby but look,” You say, pulling the cloth from his skin, “All done already.” Pressing a kiss to his temple you go to stand but you’re quickly pulled back down to the mattress by cold hands wrapped around the warm folds of your waist.

“Don’t go,” He mumbles into your hair as he keeps you tucked into his side.

“Just gotta go put the washcloth back Reggie,” You explain trying to slip from his hold but he’s not having it and just tugs you back against the hard planes of his chest.

“No,” He says simply before reaching over to the bed side table where he’d set his wand, mumbling a quick banishing spell the rag flew from your hand before flying into the bathroom.

Resting your head against his strong shoulder you yank a blanket from the end of the bed up to throw it around your bodies, nestled close together.

“You said you were happy Reg.”

“Mhm,” He responds with a noncommittal hum.

“What else are you feeling, love?”

You hear him take a deep inhale, as his own answer seemed to overwhelm him, “I don’t know. I’m scared, I’m really scared but not so much now that I know that you don’t hate me.”

You nod against his chest, you can only imagine how petrifying that thought must’ve been for him and you can’t deny the tug you feel in your chest at the idea of Regulus ever thinking you would hate him.

“I’m still terrified but I think I’m gonna be okay.”

“I know you’re gonna be okay Regulus, you are capable and strong and smart and the bravest boy I have ever met,” You can feel the blush radiating off of him at your words.

“Thank you (Y/N/N),” He mumbles bashfully into your hair once more.

You were telling the truth, if there was one thing that you know for certain its that Regulus is just as resilient as he has proven to be and if Walburga, or anyone else for that matter thought he was going to take this lying down. If they thought you were going to take this lying down, they have another thing coming. There is no doubt in your mind that Regulus will fight for what he knows to be true and if there was ever a point that he would have obeyed his mother’s every command without question that time was long past.

Reg isn’t to be underestimated. He’s just as every bit courageous as he’s proved to be over and over again. To underestimate him is to dig your own grave; and unlike Walburga you aren’t ready to count him out quite yet. On the contrary actually, your boy wasn’t about to take this lying down and even if it meant total self destruction, the two of you are about to raise hell.

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[jbreenr]

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐥𝐥

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale × Reader

Summary: You wanted to meet Ransom's family, he wanted to make sure you'd never want it again.

Word count: 3k.

Warning: Poorly written smut (+18 only, please), public sex (prompt 11), fingering, unprotected sex (don't do that, kids. be responsible), a bit of dirty talk, the Thrombeys being the Thrombeys. And I think that's it.

A/N: So, after finding out one of my stories was stolen an translated in Wattpad, I did not know if I should post this just yet but, what the hell? Let's do it. Anyway, this is for @stargazingfangirl18 and @navybrat817 's Shameless Hoes for Chris Challenge so, happy belated birthday! Yaaay. 🥳 Hope you like this at least a little and that it's not as bad as my paranoid brain thinks it is. Also, I just love how the prompts fit perfectly together, don't you? As always, lack of vocabulary and grammatical mistakes abound. *apologizes in español*

Wheel results (just attaching evidence):

ᴹʸ ᵍⁱᶠ

Draining, tedious, exasperating. Those were some of the adjectives Ransom associated with Thrombey family reunions. He'd arrive late, have some sort of conversation with his grandfather and leave early to do whatever that took him away from that big house.

Today though, he had a reason to stay for more than half an hour.

If it was up to him, you two would have stayed at home, happy, relaxed, and most importantly, naked in his bed, having a more pleasant time than the one you were most likely about to have. 

He tried to persuade you. Of course he did! But your insistence and puppy eyes made it impossible for him to say no to your request. 

So, here you were, getting out of his car, cake in sweaty hands and an excited smile on your lips, an expression so different from Ransom's, who seemed to be ready to get back behind the wheel and drive straight to Canada.

He didn't knock; he simply opened the door and held it for you to enter. If the three floor house was imposing from the outside, you felt impressed by the inside. Extravagant sculptures, apparently expensive paintings and other kinds of pieces of art were scattered everywhere, telling you just how wealthy and eccentric Ransom's family were. 

“That's Harlan Thrombey! ” You exclaimed as you stood in front of the portrait of your forever favorite author holding a knife and a book.

“So?” Ransom asked, unconcerned.

You turned to him open-mouthed, the cake almost slipping off your palms as you went to playfully slap him in the arm.

“How come you are related to Harlan Thrombey and you didn't tell me?” Your question was more of a shock than an accusation.

The carefree gesture he did with his shoulders only accentuated his next words. “I did not think you would be interested in knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be interested?” Incredulity, flowing out of your lips. “He’s the best thriller author of all time! He’s like today’s Edgar Allan Poe!”

To say that you didn't believe him was an understatement. He knew for a fact that you liked Harlan Thrombey's books, just taking a look at the bookshelf in your apartment was proof enough of that.

“We call him grandpa here.” Said a femenine voice. A brunette walked in your direction, her pretty features hardening as she looked at your boyfriend. “Don't we, Hugh?”

He seemed to be ready to say something but decided not to. Instead he inhaled and placed his hand on your back.

“This is Y/N, the only reason I’m not telling you what you need to hear right now.”

Her eyes rolled in irritation and then turned to you. “I’m Meg. Let's introduce you to the rest of the family, shall we?.” And she dragged you to the room where more people were gathered together, discussing something, not before sending a deadly glare at Ransom.

Given the distance between you and him, you didn't listen to the heavy sigh he let out before waking behind.

“Everyone!” Meg called, making everyone leave whatever they were doing to look at her –and you, in consequence. “Meet Y/N, Hugh's new friend.” She then proceeded to introduce every single member of the family, including the housekeeper and the nurse, except for the grandfather, who apparently had a moment of inspiration and left them momentarily to put his ideas on paper.

None of them left their seat to go and shake your hand except for Meg's energetic mom, who hugged you and expressed how much she loved your coat even though it was soooo last season.

Sitting on a couch next to Ransom, you half expected someone to ask you about how you two met or how long had you been dating or what was it that you did for a living. Nothing. As fast as their attention was on you, it fell from you to their previous discussion.

You now understood why Ransom jokingly suggested deep cleaning the house instead of attending that reunion.

What you weren't aware of, Ransom thought, was that all of them were behaving wonderfully compared to previous times.

You didn't know if you felt more disappointed or uncomfortable. Ransom had left your side to go to the studio for a second and you had barely had any interaction with his family. All of them, dipped in their own matters to even notice your presence. 

Fran, the housekeeper, was kind enough to take the cake to the kitchen and offer you a glass of water, but after giving it to you, she disappeared along with Meg and the nurse. 

“So,” All at once, the room went quiet as Ransom's uncle spoke. “Have you read any of dad's books, Y/N?” Only until you heard your name was that your head snapped up.

“Oh, uhm… yeah. I'm a big fan.” Taken by surprise, you simply answered.

“Really? Which one have you read?”

And to that question, you felt suddenly included in the conversation since you had knowledge of the topic.

“I'm like fifty pages from finishing 'The Needle Game' and intrigue is eating me alive.” As you heard the excitement in your voice, you tried to compose yourself and said “Though 'Nick Of Time' is my favorite.” You smiled at him, hoping that your answer was a good one.

The woman that was introduced to you as Ransom's mother nodded as she licked her lips. The light of the fireplace, reflecting on her glasses as she moved her head up and down.

“Have you read 'Ultimatum' or 'Drop In The Pocket', dear?” Her tone was curious, but the look on her face said differently.

You responded anyway. “They're not bad. I feel like the ending of 'Drop In The Pocket' was a little vague and out of line but it can always be interpreted as an open ending so…” The change in their expressions told you that you had to add something else to that answer. Maybe it was not time for literature humor yet. “But I enjoyed both.”

She hummed and took her drink, detaching from the talk that continued with courtesy questions until it morphed into a heated discussion between Ransom's father and uncle, who would repeatedly ask for your opinion to back up his own.

The discomfort you felt, dispelled to be replaced by the disturbance of being bombarded with dozens of questions at a time, each louder than the other until they changed to a completely different topic to which you were occasionally included as a neutral point of view.

“She knows what she's talking about!” Said Richard at some point when you confirmed one of his arguments. “Thank you, dear.”

Ransom came back from his obligatory argument with his grandfather to find you nowhere to be seen. 

“She's using the bathroom.” Informed Jacob, who did not take his eyes off of his cellphone. 

Thinking that you went there to hide, he started his way to your potential direction until an overheard observation from his mother stopped him halfway through. 

“… Did you hear how she talked about dad's work? Oh, I assure you she won't make it to next week with Ransom.”

Her and Richard's backs were to him, both of them unaware that their son was listening to their share of opinions.

“And did you see her hands?” Joni joined the criticism contest. “She could use some moisturizer, I tell you.”

As usual, they ignored her attempt to fit in and kept going.

“I know it's contradictory to say this,” Richard paused, as to make his point clear. “But he could do better.”

Despite their whispering, Ransom heard every single word and was glad that you were not there to see what was about to happen… 

Ransom's words stuck on his throat when he saw you making your way out of the bathroom, fixing the skirt of your dress, with such niceness and warmth directed to him as you smiled, oblivious to the fact that the people you were trying to get to like you weren't going to. 

His parents were right. He could do better. He could determine to not see them ever again and it would be the best thing to happen to him… Besides you, obviously.

“What's wrong?” Your concern was evident, just as his annoyance was undeniable.

Cold hands caressed his cheeks and Ransom thought of going back to Joni and tell her to fuck off. Your touch was soft, comforting, and gave him the greatest idea he'd ever had.

“I want to show you something.” Was his answer. It was better if you were the one who decided to never step on that house for the rest of your lives. It didn't matter if it was out of embarrassment.

Taking your hand in his, he guided you up the stairs to the first landing. The creaking sound of the old structure, probably alerting everyone in the other room that you were going to the next floor.

“Are you okay?” The sweet giggle that you let out when he abruptly stopped, almost making him feel bad about what he was seconds away from doing. 

“Better than ever.” And he stamped his lips to yours. 

Taken aback, it took you a second to respond. Hands on each side of his face as his own explored your body. When his fingers lifted your dress to caress your ass cheeks was when you ended the kiss. 

“What are you doing?” You asked in a breathless whisper. “Not that I'm complaining.”

You were cornered against the wall with Ransom towering in front of your smaller frame.

Trying to escape from whatever he had in mind was useless, you knew that much. Though, you were not sure if you really wanted to escape.

“What I've been wanting to do ever since you got a shower without me this morning.” His lips found your jaw and descended to your neck where he sucked to create a bruise. Your eyes closed to the sensation.

“Wait. No, wait.” His fingertip that had started rubbing your still clothed bud paused it's motions as his eyes focused back on your face. “We can't do it. Not here.”

Ransom's finger went back to work, bringing a soft moan that you tried to suppress. “Why not? No one's gonna come here.” His other hand moved up your thigh to lift it. “Even if they did, they wouldn't notice.”

With an expert swing of his wrist, he moved your panties aside, letting the cold air that wandered inside the house hit you before his skilled middle finger entered you while still managing to rub your clit in circles with his thumb.

Adrenaline ran through your veins, fuel activating every nerve in your body and shaking away fear from your brain, replacing it with lust and boldness.

“I'm blaming you if we get caught.” Your hips jolted forward wanting to feel more of his hand, the contradiction between your words and actions, making him smirk.

He added a second finger. Knuckles deep and his cold ring slowly warming against the inside of your thigh, he said, “I'll take responsibility, sweetheart.” Pumping his fingers in and out, he felt your slick running down the back of his hand to his wrist, wetting his overly expensive watch and the cuff of his cozy sweater .“But I can't assure you we won't get caught.”

His words, instead of working as a bucket of cold water as one would expect, increased your need to be touched by him, the yearning for him to take you right there and then. 

“Damn it, Ransom.” One of your hands flew to his shoulder to hold onto him for dear life. “I'm close.”

“You're not cumming unless I'm inside you, pretty thing.” At what point did he unfasten his belt and unzipped his trousers, you had no idea. The friction of his digits was gone in a second but the feeling of his already leaking tip rubbing against your most sensitive parts was enough to make you forget about those trifles.

Your lips opened, ready to tell him to keep his voice down when he suddenly thrusted home, stretching you out so deliciously that you had to cover your mouth to muffle the moan that threatened to inform everyone of your current activities.

Ransom's breathing hitched. Being inside you was a dream come true, feeling your walls enveloping his cock so fucking good… it was like you were made for each other, and he was going to prove it, even if his family didn't really get to know.

His hips started moving. Back and forth, back and forth. Delicately at first, letting you adjust to his size but the second he felt you throbbing around him, he increased the pace. Little by little his pounds gained power and energy.

Your whimpers –stuck in your throat, leaving only soft snuffles that crashed against Ransom's cheek, soon became more rapid, erratic and as his fingers dug in the flesh of your thigh to keep you still while he accommodated to go even deeper you heard a creaking noise.

Your boyfriend's blue eyes met yours, his movements never faltering despite the alert given by the dark wooden floor under your feet.

There was a conflict in your head, and Ransom could tell. The way you tightened and the pleading look on your face told different stories, yet Ransom knew they had the same ending.

Shaking your head, your eyes asked him not to do it, but you knew Ransom well enough to be sure that not even begging could stop him. 

“You love it, don't you?” His smile grew bigger as his change of position allowed him to hit your sweet spot on and on, ripping high pitched whines from you and obligating you to close your eyes. “The thought of getting caught. The image of someone seeing how good I make you feel.” The placement of his foot, making the landing creak repeatedly each time he pushed up accompanying every word. “Fuck, you're talking me so well. Such a dirty girl, uh.”

His big hand yanked the strap of your dress down, exposing your left boob. Your already hard nipple was soon attacked by Ransom's fingertips. He'd pinch and twist it slightly, just enough to make your back arch in search of his touch.

Pleasure was overflowing your senses, you could feel your heart thudding in your ears and your legs losing strength. Your hand left your mouth to grip at the back of Ransom's neck to keep you from falling.

The sight of your lower lip trapped between your teeth didn't please Ransom. In other circumstances, he would've let you stay that way, as quiet as possible so no one would walk on you. This time though, it was his intention to rip the most delicious sounds from your lips so you thought of the possibility of his family listening.

And so, he lent to kiss you, passion and desire transmitted through his breath. His tongue asked for a permission that was not really required, but as you let it in, Ransom took the opportunity to bite down your lip.

With your lips forcefully parted and Ransom's restless hand traveling back to your bundle, you had no other option than to moan with each quick circle his digits drew.

A series of laughs and undistinguished words were heard from a distance. Both Ransom and you turned to see what they were about, stopping in your tracks with him still buried deep inside your needy cunt.

“Guess dinner's ready.” Unbothered about the information he just gave, he hid his face in the crook of your neck and resumed his movements.

A shaky oh, fuck fell from your lips as you felt the familiar knot in your stomach forming. Your head flew back, hitting the wall with a soft thud. 

“Careful. We don't want to be obvious, do we?” You knew you were about to explode, and by the way your walls were clenching and your trembling body tried to separate from him, Ransom knew as well. “Let go, sweetheart.” A roar erupted from him as he felt you tightening around his length. “Cum for me.”

With a last, powerful thrust of his hips, you let out a silent scream. The coil snapped, making you see a kaleidoscope of colors behind your eyelids and listen to a loud ring in your ears. 

Ransom followed right after, cursing as he finished inside of you, coating you with every last drop and making sure everything would stay there.

He slid out, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness as he zipped his trousers and took a step back to let you fix your appearance.

You managed to accommodate your dress just in time for Ransom's family to walk out of the room they were in to see you. Your agitated breathing and blushed cheeks, getting everyone's attention. 

“Are you okay, dear?” Ransom's dad asked.

“She's fine.” Your boyfriend answered for you. “She's feeling a little sick. I better take her home.” He took you by the hand and helped you down the stairs to the door, which you thanked. Had he not done it, you would have tripped taking the first step.

“But she hasn't met grandpa yet.” Meg noted, furrowing her brows.

“It'll be next time.” And with that, Ransom took you out of the house and in the passenger seat of his car without giving anyone the chance to say goodbye.

When you were at a considerable distance, you sighed, letting out the air you didn't know you were holding.

“Just so you know, there won't be a next time.” You informed him, against your want to meet his grandfather.

“Why not?” He asked with a chuckle, already knowing the answer. 

“Cause embarrassment won't let me come back in the near future.”

Behind an eye roll and a tap on your thigh, Ransom hid the triumphant grimace his perfectly carried out plan gave him.

[angy-mouse]

Hi mouse can I request c!charlie w like tentacles.. anyways can I be 🌰 anon

You absolutely can, I love the slime boy and I love tentacles. Warning: there is a bit of bodily stuff that some ppl may find unsettling. Basically reader says i wanna be full of you and charlie fucking delivers. Also half of this was written in the passenger seat as my mom drove me home from my eye appointment so be grateful /lh

Charlie thought this must be what love was. He never got a straight answer from anyone when he asked for the meaning of the human concept, but that didn't make him any less sure that the feeling washing over his body over and over again as he filled every hole you had with his slime was love.

"Sweetheart," he cooed, holding you steady on his lap. "Oh, darling little sweetheart! You're so perfect!" The sentiment would have been adorable if you weren't moaning into his neck, approaching the point of being fucked positively stupid.

He held you lovingly against his chest as he absolutely ravaged you with the help of his slime, which he'd formed into a dozen eager tentacles. There were at least three in your ass, skinny but so long as they explored your innermost depths, all moving independently to rub against every nerve you had. Through the thin membrane separating your holes you could feel them grind against Charlie's cock- was it his cock? Or was it just another tentacle, only molded for the purpose of fucking your sweet pussy and once that was done it would be absorbed into his body again?

Either way, he'd decided it was too hard to hold you close and thrust at the same time, so his cock simply swelled inside you, spreading your walls wide and threatening to slip past your cervix before shrinking back to his usual size and girth and repeating. You didn't think you could really call the seven inches that you could barely wrap you hand around 'shrinking'- but then again, you weren't thinking much at the moment. His tentacles caressed your soft skin, leaving absolutely no part of you untouched as he fucked you, somehow rough and tender at the same time.

“My sweet little darling! Am I doing it right, sweetheart? Please, love, teach me how to make you feel good!” You simply moaned in response, struggling to even process his words as his cock swelled just a bit more than the other times and his tip tried to press past your cervix. “Did you like that, darling? Do you want me to go deeper?”

“Please,” you panted into his neck, tightening your arms around his shoulders and grinding down on his lap. “Please, Charlie, I want it deeper.”

Charlie practically glowed- his love wanted it deeper? He could do that! Oh, you’d be so happy when he did and that would make him so happy! “Of course, my love!” All at the same time, the tentacles in your ass and his cock stretched longer, sending you crying out babbling moans into his neck. It felt like the ones in your ass were trying to find their way all the way to your stomach and the one in your pussy- oh fuck.

His slime easily slipped past your cervix without hurting you and immediately set to filling your womb like he’d filled your pussy. You moaned as you relished in the sensation of being positively, in every sense of the word, full. You leaned back despite his whimpers and the tentacles trying to tug you back into his chest, looking down at your protruding stomach- he’d given you a baby bump.

Charlie’s complaints died on his tongue as he saw it and he watched hypnotized, laying his hand over it on your stomach. He gave an experimental thrust, but when he tried to pull back he found the slime in your womb stopped him. Did he just knot you?

Charlie moaned and suddenly you found yourself on your back, tentacles in your ass moving at an eager pace as Charlie clumsily folded your legs up to your chest, straddling your thighs. “‘M sorry, baby, ‘m sorry,” he babbled mindlessly as his hips took on a desperate pace, being able to pull back almost an inch in this new position and taking full advantage of it. “I wanna come, I wanna feel what it’s like when I come inside you and fill you up even more. Won’t you let me, baby? Then you can always have me deep inside you- just like you wanted, right? I’ll make a tentacle and leave it inside you to keep it in, I promise- you’re gonna be so full, baby, so full.”

His hands were anchored to your legs, keeping them folded up, but his tentacles set to work playing with anything they could- there were two on your clit, two on each nipple, and you even thought you could feel one trying to squeeze in with Charlie’s cock. “Please, Charlie, I want it all,” you moaned, eagerly opening your mouth to take the tentacle that traced your lips.

He moaned at the sight, thrusting harder. “Yes, yes- thank you, baby, thank you! I promise I’ll fill you up so good, you’re always going to have a part of me!”

[chloe-the-ice-queen]

This Doesn’t Mean We’re Friends - Ch. 2

Hey guys! Another chapter done and posted, I hope y’all enjoy it!! Let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, I probably won’t cap it unless I really need to :)

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Marinette and Chloe rode in the Bourgeois limo from Marinette's bakery to the Grand Paris. Chloe filled her in on what to expect and what to do. "I'll be with you most of the time, so I can tell you who to steer clear of, and who you should try to talk to. I'll try to introduce you to a few people I know would be interested in your designs. You made that dress, right?"

"Yeah, designed and created it from scratch." Chloe eyed Marinette's dress appreciatively. It was tastefully made, the dark blue complementing the girl's dark hair and bluebell eyes. The top was halter-style, with a high neckline and no sleeves. It fit Marinette's form, with rhinestones glittering on her torso. The bottom half of her dress was long and elegant, falling loosely to the floor, the front hem higher than the back, showing off Marinette's silver heels. It wasn't half bad. 

It was actually quite impressive, as most of Marinette's designs were. She had upgraded from her normal pink capris and grey cardigan outfit after Lila had come back to school, transitioning to a more stylish, modern look. But this dress was nothing less than gorgeous on the small girl, but wasn't overly classy and overdone like some dresses she was sure to see throughout the night. It looked nice, but it didn't look like she was showing off, which Chloe could appreciate.

Chloe herself wore a sleek, sleeveless yellow dress that highlighted her fair skin and bright blue eyes. Chloe's hair flowed freely around her shoulders, curled and styled, while Marinette had hers up in an elegant bun, with loose curls framing her face. Together, the two girls contrasted each other, but the stark differences went well together. 

As they pulled up to the front of the hotel, paparazzi and reporters swarmed the red carpet, bombarding the famous partygoers.

"They shouldn't be too interested in us, but just ignore them." Chloe advised Marinette, before opening her door and sliding out of the car. Marinette slipped out behind her, adjusting to the flashing of cameras and the buzz of conversation. She shut the door behind her, and joined Chloe in walking up the front steps.

Just going to the event was sure to bring her some recognition, especially accompanied by Chloe, but she wasn't too worried about being bombarded by paparazzi. Only a few reporters bothered them, and as instructed, Marinette tuned them out.

Once they entered the ballroom, the chatter became more of a dull roar. Chloe greeted a few people mingling just inside the doorway, before they were accosted by a very familiar voice. Adrien, who was dragging a disgruntled Lila along behind him. "Hey guys! It's nice to see you here!" Adrien enthused. 

"I'm sure." Chloe said, unamused. "Now if you don't mind, we need to-"

"I thought that you could introduce us to some of your friends here, Chloe. That way Lila can make some new friends-" Adrien interrupted. Lila suddenly looked interested in their conversation. 

"Well, since we know how many connections Lila has, I'm sure she doesn't need me to introduce her to anyone." Said Chloe. 

"Don't be like that Chl-"

"Chloe!!" Someone near them half shouted, turning the heads of people around them. A boy around their age was walking over to them, waving. "I wasn't sure if you'd come or not. It's been a while." 

"Henri!" Chloe said, looking entirely amused. "I haven't spoken to you since that party in London."

"I doubt either of us will ever be invited to that again." Henri said, making Chloe laugh. Now that he was closer, Marinette studied him. He was very handsome, objectively, of course. The kind of easy beauty that makes you want to laugh or cry. He had dark brown curls, and kind brown eyes that sparkled with amusement. When he glanced at her, she felt her face flush a little. Chloe and the stranger, Henri, traded stories and jokes for a minute, while the other three observed. Adrien seemed to recognize the newcomer, and Lila was waiting for her chance to jump into the conversation.

"Now," his voice was quieter, teasing, but making sure the other three heard him as well. "You should introduce me to your very pretty friend here. I don't believe I've seen her at any of your events before." He smirked at Chloe, who rolled her eyes. 

"This is-"

"Lila, nice to meet you." The green eyed girl said, sticking out her hand, which he ignored, looking at her with annoyance and slight disbelief, if Marinette had to guess.

Chloe seemed taken aback, "This is Marinette, an amazing up-and-coming designer who my mother and Gabriel Agreste have both scouted for their brands." She turned to Marinette, "This is my friend Henri, his parents are both models and his mother is a designer my mother has collaborated with. I'm sure the two of you have quite a lot in common, so why don't we go find a table to chat?"

"Why don't we come with you? You know that I happen to be friends with quite a few designers and models myself, I might be able to give some input." Lila said, while Adrien, who had been looking angry at Chloe, perked up. 

He and his date began to follow the trio, when Chloe said, "Sorry, you two, but my mom reserved a table just for three. And I'm sure Lila can get you guys seats next to someone much more important anyways." She grabbed Marinette and pulled her along with her to a table near the front, Henri following behind them.

"Adrien's gotten worse since last time." The boy remarked as they sat down.

Marinette looked at him disapprovingly, when Chloe responded, "I agree. I thought it was just because of his dad, but his social skills have somehow become even worse since he started going to school."

Marinette looked surprised. Probably because she felt surprised. Didn't Chloe like Adrien? Wasn't he her best friend? Maybe they had a falling out, or maybe Chloe had stopped liking Adrien for the same reason Marinette had. Whatever the case, they could all agree on one thing. 

"That girl is nasty." Henri said. "Do you know her?"

Marinette and Chloe looked at each other. "Unfortunately," Chloe supplied. "She's in our class."

"Ah, my apologies. Anyways, it's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marinette. If you're as good as Chloe said, I'm sure I'll be seeing you around more."

Marinette smiled as Chloe said, "She is quite talented. She made the dress she's wearing."

The bluenette looked at her shoes under the table. "Ah, an excellent designer then. I'll be sure to mention you to my parents when I get the chance. In the meantime, though, Chloe, I need to be going. I need to talk to a few people before I head out, it was good to see you again." 

The three stood, and Henri turned and hugged Chloe, and then turned to Marinette. She smiled. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Henri."

"The pleasure is mine, I'm sure." Henri said, and took Marinette's hand, kissing the back of her knuckles lightly, his eyes teasing. Marinette laughed, blushing slightly. 

The trio separated, Chloe pulling Marinette off to meet other people.

Through the entire interaction, two pairs of green eyes watched the small group from across the room. One filled with jealousy, one with annoyance and maybe a little sadness too.

----

Throughout the night, Chloe introduced Marinette to dozens of people. A few designers, models, artists, business moguls, celebrities, you name it. In return, Marinette stayed with Chloe and endured tedious conversations she had to engage in for her parents' sake. Chloe would never admit it, but having the baker girl there was nice, it made the evening slightly less unbearable. 

For the bluenette, it was great exposure into the fashion world. She got to meet several of her idols and make connections with influential people. People started to hear about her designs, many of them admired the dress she wore that showcased her budding talent.

Style Queen herself was thrilled to see her there. Chloe had let her mother know who she was bringing once Marinette was invited, of course, but Audrey was still happy to see her favorite young designer.

At the end of the evening, Marinette and Chloe rode back to the Dupain-Cheng bakery together. When the limo pulled to a stop, Marinette started to get out, then paused. "Thank you so much for everything Chloe. I know you don't like me much, but tonight was so much fun and I'm so grateful that you introduced me to so many people. And thank you for inviting me to come with you, even if it was just to tick off Lila." Marinette gushed, honestly honored by Chloe's thoughtfulness, even if it was caused by spite.

"Yeah whatever, you're welcome Dupain-Cheng, this doesn't mean we're friends, okay?" Chloe grumbled.

Marinette smiled. "Good night, Chloe." She closed the door before Chloe could respond, and walked into the bakery. 

----

When Marinette went to bed that night, she went to sleep with a happy buzz in her chest, Tikki nestled beside her on the pillow. 

Alrighty then, I guess that’s Chapter 2 done! I hope y’all liked it!! And that should also be the end of these super short chapters, the next one will definitely be a lot longer, and will hopefully be posted sometime tomorrow?? I love you guys, thanks for all your support!

@agentofscifi

[blutopaz15]

For the hurt/comfort prompts, number 8 please!! :D

Took me a bit here because I couldn't for the life of me work out even these vague setting details...but have some Rayla POV but Callum-centric hurt/comfort!

@shiramoonshadow also requested this one and another! :)

"you don't have to pretend to be alright around me."

hurt/comfort prompts

More and more since they'd been back in Katolis, Rayla found herself alone in the evenings.

...which wasn't really that bad. Sometimes she'd visit with whoever wasn't stuck in the throne room with the boys, or see if the training grounds by the Crownguard barracks were empty, or just wait for Callum, especially if it was before moonrise. 

She couldn't deny, though, how she wished they could go back to how they'd spent their evenings those very first couple of weeks she'd lived here with them: playing rolly-cubes with Ez winning and Soren making a mess of keeping score and Callum drawing between turns while she looked for a chance to sneak a second with her head on his shoulder, or that night that Ez had gotten Barius to bake a dozen different kinds of jelly tarts for her to try, or those times that she and Callum had managed to slip away all alone before the sun had even set...

They'd been too young, then, for all the responsibilities they had now.

The more of those responsibilities—duties, really—that teenaged Ezran took on, the more obligations Callum ended up with too, which lately had meant evening meetings she seldom belonged at. All that responsibility was weighing on them, too, Rayla could tell. Callum kept coming back home to her so much sharper than usual—no doubt having spent the whole time advocating for Ez and mediating discontent—once he finally turned up back in their shared quarters an hour—or sometimes two—after dark.

He was never this late, though...and she hadn't even had to go all the way to the throne room to figure out why.

Even from across the courtyard, she could see how on edge he was—his jaw set and stiff, grumbling at a volume too low to hear, his eyebrows knit together across a tense forehead. Even the way Callum scratched away at his sketchbook was harsh, each line made with heavy, sudden pressure.

"Did something happen?" she asked, unsurprised that he hadn't noticed her approach in the dark with how preoccupied he was with the messy sketch.

Predictably—he'd startled. "Oh," he said, seeing her and immediately melting back down into that sulky, slack posture to continue drawing. "Uh...no. Well, yes, but...it's nothing new. I'm—I'll be fine."

He shrugged, like it wasn't a big deal either...which was a load of fart-flowers. 

She let her hip bump against his shoulder on her way down to the step beside him. 

"Then why are you sitting here trying to scribble a hole into your book?"

His sigh was short as he bookmarked his page with his charcoal.

"It's just...Ez is counting on me, and I'm hurting more than helping with these negotiations." Callum looked down—his cheeks highlighting red with distress—and fidgeted with the seam of his sketchbook. "We...we had a fight after the meeting tonight. I got upset—angry, really—and it was stupid. I'm just...overwhelmed, and I have been for a while. I've been trying to keep it together because I don't want him to feel like he can't ask me for help. I'm supposed to help him, and I want to help him. I just...don't know how."

She'd suspected the gist of those feelings—even though he'd been trying to keep them down—but fighting with Ez...

These were bigger than she'd thought—bigger than stress.

"Did you tell him that?" she asked, her arm slipping around his tense shoulders.

"I was trying to...but it came out all wrong." Callum winced, his mouth staying tilted into a half-hearted smile, his eyes misted over...so heartbreakingly handsome. "You know me."

She did, and she loved what she knew—overactive temper and all.

"I do," she nodded, leaning close to press her lips to his cheek, and she felt his smile widen just a bit as she lingered there, making her wish that he would've told her all this sooner, that she would've pushed him to talk about the pressure. "You don't have to pretend to be alright around me, you know. I get why you'd want to around Ez—he's your little brother—but...I can take it."

"I know," Callum said, tucking his head down against her shoulder. "I just...didn't want you to worry."

"Yeah, cause I've never made you worry before," she teased. Her lips brushed his forehead before she jostled him off her shoulder, squeezing him tight enough to be silly. "Now then, what do you need? More big feelings time? Real big fulminus out here? Tea? Jelly tart?"

Rayla stiffened, realizing that Callum had nuzzled his way against her neck rather than taking her up on any of her suggestions.

"I think I just need to blow off some steam, honestly," he said, adding a ticklish hum against her ear, then kissing the seam of her collar...

"Blow off some steam, huh?" She lifted her chin, and Callum knew to continue. "And you need my help with that, mage?"

"Well, yeah." Callum's lips squished against her cheek as he chuckled in response, kissing his way closer to her lips. "You're the most important part."

[0risha]

RECOGNITION

series m.list

PAIRING : sukuna x fem!reader

SUMMARY : when an exchange student comes to jujutsu tech, Itadori is set on finding out why the King of curses is so interested in you.

TAGS : fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, jjk anime spoilers, some curse words, reader is described as a black female

NOTES : i’ve read a couple of works where sukuna meets his reincarnated lover so I wanted to try it out too, hope you enjoy. was supposed to make progress with my wips but I was in a sukuna mood. (◕ᴗ◕✿)

Sukuna feels your presence before he sees you. It’s one of those cliché moments where time puts its hand up to signal a standstill. Yuuji can feel it too when you pass by, your long braids swishing with each step.

He’s sure that he’s never seen you before but his shared body buzzes in remembrance. All the while, his emotions are overtaken by the unbridled feeling of wanting. 

After that, Itadori never took it upon himself to ask Sukuna about the matter because the curse didn’t seem to want to.

Sukuna had become more and more suppressed, his usual pop-ups were a rare occurrence, even when Megumi was around. However, for the whole month you’d been at Jujutsu Tech, the King of curses had been intent on observing from his throne of woven carcasses, body hunched over to just watch.

You’re an exchange student, Itadori recalls Gojo’s past conversation about a new second-year that would be coming from the states. You’re strong — at first, Itadori couldn’t help but think that this revelation was the reason for Sukuna’s interest —your cursed energy being perfect sediment for close combat and dealing precise blows, all the same, Itadori could feel a grappling hook of something that seemed to be festering.

It’s dark and brooding and it stirs every time you come into contact with him. And Yuuji thinks he might go crazy because he wants to know your connection with Sukuna and it’s not like he can ask you because your aura screams — unapproachable.

His chance comes when all the first-years are assigned to a mission, you're there for extra measure. Gojo’s shaman instincts telling him that this mission was far too exceeding for him, Nobara, and Megumi.

Though just as Gojo predicted, it goes terribly wrong and Itadori keels over with an empty hollow where his heart should be.

His last thoughts are consumed with a screeching mantra of his late grandfather’s words. In the crevice of his flickering mind, they're big bold letters that drip with poisoned regret.

Before his vision goes black, the last thing he sees is a heart-broken Megumi and your face which is flooded with guilt.

When Itadori comes face to face with the King of curses, the stench of rotting death overpowering his senses, he mulls over the terms laid out by Sukuna to come back, alive.

To be reunited with his friends and become some type of savior —sukuna's words, not his— he'd give up the reigns of his body so Sukuna could talk to you whenever he chose.

For the exchange of his life, the rules weren’t bad, a part of him knows that this selfish override could cause problems for you in the future, but he still agrees.

When he wakes up to a pure white ceiling and the smell of bleach he doesn’t expect to see you towering over him. Moving up to a sitting position, his cheeks nearly bleed red because he’s naked. His eyes frantically flit over to Gojo who’s sitting in the corner of the room, watching the exchange. The white-haired sorcerer shrugs in a ridiculed manner —silently telling Itadori that it wasn’t his problem.

“You called me,” your voice filters through the bright room. His eyebrows crinkle in confusion. Sukuna must've did something.

When his eyes flit back to you, he’s met with your monotone expression, your cascade of braids framing your face. And for the third time in his life, he’s scared. 

Your cursed energy, which for your level should leave little to no residual, is flaring with onyx undertones. Its sharpened jaws nearing closer and closer to Itadori in a beckoning manner. He's not sure why it's visible in the first place.

Gojo stays silent.

Brat, let me out. Sukuna, for the first time in weeks, pops up with a wide mouth on the palm of his hand. Without a second thought, Itadori allows him. 

Whilst wading in his domain of subconsciousness, he watches the exchange. Your expression stays the same as you study Sukuna’s marked face. 

“So hostile,” Sukuna bares, his powerful aura sifting through the room. You roll your eyes and crack a smile. Seamlessly ignoring the other man in the room— who you know Sukuna has a grudge with. 

“Am I not supposed to be?” you cross your arms and ask. “Being friendly would get me in trouble.”

“You remember me?” The King of curses cuts straight to the point, the question being so unexpected that Gojo shuffles in his seat, his spine rigid with anticipation. 

You nod stiffly. "I didn’t at first, not fully at least, but after coming into contact a few times, yeah.”

“It’s a shame I don’t have control over this body,” Sukuna presses a palm to your cheek, no doubt a loving caress. His deep baritone voice causing your skin to erupt into a turnpike for goosebumps to situate. “Do you remember how we parted last?”

“A sorcerer killed me or something,” you scratch the back of your neck under his intense stare. “Right through here,” you confess, pointing to the middle of your sternum.

“And you’ve become one?” Sukuna quirks an eyebrow, shoulders stiff with anger. 

“I didn’t even know I knew you until a month ago, calm down,” you wave in dismissal. Itadori takes note in the way Sukuna visibly relaxes, your words washing him in a bucket of warmth. “Is that all? I’ve got a mission in thirty minutes.” 

“I’m coming with you.” Sukuna jumps off the steel table, his bare feet touching the cool ground. You turn your eyes away from the bottom half of his body, ears growing hot in embarrassment.

“Eh? Is that allowed?” You turn to Gojo who’s still analyzing the situation beforehand and he shrugs with complacency. “Don’t let anyone see him,” Gojo warns, his stare serious even under his blindfold. You're not exactly sure what Gojo's thinking but you grasp the opportunity.

When you leave the autopsy room with a naked Sukuna by your side, careful to avoid any areas where Sukuna’s aura might be felt, you make it to Itadori’s dorm.

“Here.” You throw him Yuuji’s formal uniform and a pair of brown boots you find in the corner of his room. “I’m not wearing this,” Sukuna interjects.

“Huh?” Your upper lip curls up in confusion. “Then you’re not coming with me.” You turn to leave but he catches your arm in a tight grip.

“Fine, since you’re so damn adamant.” He releases his grip on your arm to slip into Yuuji’s clothes, when he finishes he turns to you with a glare.

“Good boy,” you praise, patting his tattooed cheek.

Internally, Itadori’s too bewildered to tease the curse. In all of his time spent with Sukuna in his body, he’s never seen the King of curses voluntarily listen to somebody else’s demands. The murky water he stands in ripples as he sits to observe everything that’s transpiring. 

When you both reach the site you were assigned to, you sigh in annoyance. “What is it?” Sukuna asks, hands in pockets as he studies your face.

“I was hoping to have an easy day, they’re not dangerous or anything but there’s more than a dozen in there.” You point to the abandoned building, its steel beams bending with age.

“I’ll exorcise them for you.”  

This is going completely against this guy’s morals, Yuuji thinks. 

Your eyebrows fly to your forehead as you grow giddy with happiness. “Really?” You exclaim clambering up to wrap him in a hug.

“If you don’t let go, I won’t.” He grumbles, head in your neck while inhaling your sweet scent. 

“Okayyy,” you inhale, trailing off, Sukuna not too far behind. 

The exorcism is completed in fifteen seconds, tops. You stare in amazement at his lithe movements. His sharp fingers extinguishing cores with precise stabs— the same way he did his vessel. When he’s done he turns to you with an eyebrow raised, his hands wet with unspoken substance. You turn away with a humph. 

“Was it not fast enough?” He walks towards you, concern written all over his expression.

“It was too fast,” you proclaim.

“Huh?” 

“You’re a show-off,” you turn to exit the building, your braids whizzing past his face. You hear his roaring laughter behind you as you make it outside.

The smell of freshly churned earth enters your nostrils as you walk down a fenced sidewalk with bent daffodils. “Where are we going?”

“A ramen shop.” His gaze flicks over to study your face which is softened with what seems to be tranquility. His heart tides over with pride once he realizes that you feel content with him, a 1000-year-old curse.

However, he knows it’s the result of your memories that tie in with his; shared massacres and intertwined fates. Multiple restarts of what seemed to be a never-ending cycle of mingled hearts. But this time jump was different than the others. 

You being a sorcerer is not the only obstacle, at all.

“Sukuna? Hey– you’re spacing out.” You wave a hand in front of his face to grab his attention. 

“We’re here.” He looks up to see a small ramen shop, its logo old with age. As he enters the shop, he somehow finds contentment in being in a place that you like. 

—

“You know you’re probably attracting sorcerers and curses alike as we speak?” You inquire, grabbing your ramen bowl from the waiter who nervously glances at Sukuna. His tattooed face also attracting unwanted attention. 

“Mhm, I’ll just kill them if they interfere.” You whip your head to turn to the waiter who you’re relieved to see, had already left.

“I knew you’d say that,” you stuff your face with a handful of steaming noodles. 

“Sukuna?”

“Mhm?” 

“What’s gonna happen between us?” You flick your index finger back and forth. “It’s not like the other times, I’m a dedicated sorcerer.”

“So?” 

“You’re the King of curses, I’m a sorcerer.” You repeat, dropping your wooden chopsticks to place your head on your propped fist. 

“Already made a deal with the brat, I can talk to you whenever and wherever I want,” he pulls his face closer to yours. 

“Yeah? What happens when they execute Itadori?” You curl your hands into balled fists, an unfamiliar emotion welling up in your throat. Somehow, it doesn't fit. It crosses your veins in a parasitic manner and your eyes glaze over.

“I’ll just come back.” He states matter of factly, voice coated with arrogance.

“You promise?” You whisper, holding out your pinky finger. You nearly scoff at your own action.

Ignoring the finger you bare out, he presses his lips against yours. It’s the same as he can remember, centuries ago. His body elates with a hum of electricity. And it's as if his body's creating a second space of void in which he feels his every sense being sharpened; the smooth curve of your full lips and the salty taste of previous ramen.

But before the kiss can go any further, you're pulling back.

“That was uh…” You blink once, twice, trying desperately to collect your thoughts. When you look back to Sukuna, you instead are met with Itadori’s clear face.

“The hell are you doing, brat?” Sukuna bares his teeth on the right side of Itadori’s cheek. ”I- I’m sorry just got a little uh.. flustered.” 

“The fuck are you getting flustered for?” Sukuna growls. 

“I- uh..” 

“It’s okay Yuuji, you can switch again another time,” you sympathize with the boy. His cheeks are coated in red.

“It’s getting late, eat some ramen so we can go.” You chuckle. Itadori nods as his hand reaches towards a pair of chopsticks.

“Touch my ramen and I’ll kill you again, you damn brat.”

back to m.list

[drwcn]

I loved your fem lwj take on things. How would thibgs go if WWX was the lady? Other than ppl assuming she stood up for the Wens bcs she jad feelings for WN ( and that Yuan was hers)

Heyyy friend, I think I’ve seen a couple of girl!wwx fics floating around in ao3 so i certainly won’t be the first :P.

Also I completely misread your ask initially, I thought you were asking me what I think would happen if A-Yuan was WWX’s kid, and I was like oh?? But then I realize wait... I can make it worse.  

Today, I decided that my mortal soul doesn’t matter, so here we go. Let’s see how accursed I can make this idea: 

[1]

It started with Jiang Cheng. Jiang Wanyin had set out for the Burial Mount with the explicit goal of throttling speaking with Wei Wuxian, but what greeted him at the entrance of the “Demon Subduing Palace” — more of a cave than anything really — was not his martial sister, but Wen Ning. Well, what had once been Wen Ning.

Black veins ran across his pale, ashen face, down his equally ashen neck , and into the major veins beneath his clavicles covered by the collars of his black threadbare robes. Lifeless eyes, white as his skin, stared into a void the living could not see. There were talismans littering his body, and Jiang Cheng knew that when he spoke to this fierce corpse, he was not speaking to the young Wen boy, but to his mistress who controlled him with her demonic cultivation. 

Wei Wuxian refused to face him. Refused him explanation. Refused him closure.

“Er-jie!” Jiang Cheng screamed into the stony expressionless face of Wen Qionglin. “If you continue to protect them, then I can’t protect you!!” 

There was no response. 

Suddenly, just as Jiang Cheng was about to kick and fight his way into the cave, Wen Ning thrusted out his right fist, and in his grasp was a piece of purple silk. Jiang Cheng unfolded the silk, vaguely recognizing that it had been cut from someone’s robe, and saw what was wrapped within was a slip of parchment.

割袍断义*, the paper read. Tell the world that I, Wei Wuxian, first disciple of Yunmeng Jiang has forever defected (Note: 割袍断义- to rip one's robe as a sign of repudiating a sworn brotherhood (idiom)).

With this, there was nothing left to say. Hurt and furious, Jiang Wanyin threw the piece of parchment onto the dirt ground, grinded his heel down on it, and left the Burial Mount without ever having drawn Sandu. 

Inside the cave, Wen Qing held Wei Wuxian’s hand. “Why won’t you just tell him? He’s your brother; he can help you, you can —” 

Wei Wuxian’s mile long stare seemed to be gazing at something — someone — very far away. Slowly, she placed her other palm over her belly, which horrifically was already starting to round out. “Nobody can help me now, Qing-jie.”

“I can,” said Wen Qing, blunt as ever. “I can make it go away, if you want.”

“No.” A droplet of tear escaped pass long lashes. “No.” 

[2] 

It continued with Jiang Cheng.

On a snowy night, the first winter after Wei Wuxian escaped with the Wen remnants to the Burial Mount, Jiang Cheng was rudely awakened from his slumber by a less-than-stealthy intruder breaking and entering into his bed chamber.

Zidian whipped through the air, lighting the room with her eerie violet glow, before the intruder could think to take one more step. It was a man, judging from his silhouette colliding against the wall and the pained groan he made in response. The very next second, the tail of Zidian coiled tightly around his neck and dragged him across the floor towards beneath Jiang Cheng’s waiting foot. 

The Sect Master of Yunmeng Jiang summoned Sandu, ready to deliver the final strike, but just as his blade sailed towards the intruder’s chest, a pale arm jutted upwards, blocking Sandu’s descent and revealing a pale hand holding a … a... 

Even in the dark, Jiang Cheng immediately recognized the mahogany comb. 

“Jiang — ! Zongzhu —!” The man croaked out urgently, throat still stomped on by Jiang Cheng’s foot. It was - it was Wen Ning?!

Jiang Cheng looked him over. He was pale, yes, but his eyes appeared human. His hair was brushed and haphazardly done up in a farmer’s top knot. He was wearing farmer’s clothing too, probably more inconspicuous for travel than his Ghost General getup.  

“Jiang-zongzhu! P—please!!”

No, impossible. 

“Wei — Wei-guniang—”

Jiang Cheng lifted his foot and dragged Wen Ning up in a split second. “What’s wrong with Wei Wuxian?!”  Wen Ning coughed and shook his head desperately. “No time to explain. My sister asked me to fetch you. Please, you have to come! Wei-guniang’s life is in danger! If you won’t come, I’ll...I’ll have to go to Gusu, and I don’t know if - if -” 

Jiang Cheng followed Wen Ning. 

For speed, they travelled by sword, but even so, dawn was breaking by the time they arrived. The crowd of Burial Mount’s villagers huddling anxiously outside of the Demon Subduing Palace parted for them upon their arrival. Jiang Cheng took a moment to gather himself and square his shoulders. Whatever it was; he was ready.  

He was wrong. None of the dozens of scenario he had agonized over on the flight here could have prepared him for what awaited him inside. 

Wen Qing, pale and drenched in sweat, was near complete spiritual collapse, and without Wen Qing’s spiritual energy sustaining her, the single tenuous thread by which Wei Wuxian’s life hung on would have undoubtedly snapped under the toil and devastation her body had been put through. 

There was so much blood, so, so much blood everywhere, and amidst the blood, there was a baby. 

Fuck. 

Jiang Cheng transfused his sister half of his total spiritual reserve over the course of a day, while an exhausted but unrelenting Wen Qing worked diligently under blood-soaked sheets. 

Then at dusk, when the storm finally passed, Jiang Cheng sat at the mouth of the cave with a tiny, perfect little human — a girl, a niece! —  in his arms and cursed Lan Wangji’s name. 

Wen Qing was extremely clear with them: 孩子要是留在这里，养不活。

If the newborn was left to be raised at the Burial Mount, she would not live. And so, because parting was inevitable from the start, Wei Wuxian adamantly refused to hold or nurse the child. Her child. 

I can’t. If I do, I won’t be able to let her go. Those dark eyes burned with more than just the delirium of her childbed fever. For once, Jiang Cheng could not find it in himself to argue.

Thus, he took his niece home and named her Jiang Yan 江曕. The name was not his doing. His foolish, misguided, stubborn sister had stroked her daughter’s soft, baby cheek and whispered it to her as a farewell gift. 

Yan - to be bathed in daylight. In the end, when given a choice, Wei Wuxian still opted for her child to walk on broad sunny road. 

It made Jiang Cheng wonder why, then, she would choose the dark twisted path for herself instead. 

[3] 

It ended with Jiang Cheng. 

The truth was simple: Jiang Wanyin killed his shijie Wei Wuxian. He did. He meant to. 

He killed her. But that did not mean he wanted her dead. 

In one day, he had lost both of his sisters, leaving two orphans in their wake. Jiang Cheng could not ignore the cruel irony of their fate: one’s father murdered by his aunt, and other’s mother murdered by her uncle. 

This was the kind of tragedy fairytales were made of, and if there were anything left in him to shed tears over it, he would.  Standing amongst Nevernight’s carnage, he could not dredge up even a single drop of tear.  

Jiang Cheng didn’t know how he could return home to Lotus Pier to face that cherub face, always so happy, so sweet, so utterly untainted by the world. She had her mother’s smile. Yan'er was starting to learn how to speak. Her first words were da-da. 

Da-da. Die-die. Father. 

He was standing beside her father now. 

Lan Wangji. Devastated. Destroyed. …Deceived.

Jiang Cheng hated him so much, so fucking much that for one insane second, he thought about telling Lan Wangji the truth just to see what would happen. Maybe he would run Jiang Cheng through with his Bichen - that would be a relief now, wouldn’t it? - or maybe he would jump after Wei Wuxian. 

Truly, if he knew, he would. Jump, that is. Jiang Cheng was almost entirely sure. Oh the utter melodrama that would inspire indeed!  

But then... 

Wei Ying birthed you a daughter, a lovely, perfect, blessed little girl, and she carried that secret to her grave. I may be damned by my actions, but you, who have done nothing for her and taken everything, why should you deserve something as sacred as the truth?

Jiang Cheng turned away. 

He was acutely aware that one day Jiang Yan may very well be the literal death of him. After all — 杀母之仇不共戴天 — one cannot tolerate living under the same sky as the murderer of one’s mother. 

Be that as it may, he would raise Jiang Yan well, just as he promised. Unlike his sister, he would not break his word. Jiang Yan was of Lotus Pier, of Yunmeng, like her mother and grandfather before her. That for him, was enough. 

Jiang Cheng clutched Sandu and gripped Zidian. Whatever his fate, he already made peace with it, and the rest was inconsequential. 

One day, he may die, but today he lives, and so as long as he lives, Jiang Yan and all of Yunmeng Jiang will be protected . So as long as he lives, they will flourish. 

[...and in between]

On the streets of Yiling, Lan Wangji tilted his head inquisitively at Wei Wuxian and the little boy at her side and asked, “This child, he...” 

In response, Wei Wuxian patted her chest in a self-declarative kind of way and announced, “Oh this child, I birthed him!” 

He stared at her in shell-shocked silence, his mind racing with panicked thoughts of but that’s impossible — that was just once — even if — the boy is too old to be —

“怎么，蓝湛，不要我们娘儿俩了？” What, Lan Zhan, you don’t want the child and I?

“Wei— Wei Ying—” 

Then of course, she had laughed, and Lan Wangji thought no more of it. 

Just a joke. A silly joke. 

In time, he would come to realize his mistake. 

~~~

[A/N]: I’m not even a little bit sorry. 

[greyeyedmonster-18]

Fault Lines pt. 5

Read Fault Lines parts 1-4 here (links to part 4 but everything else is there)

In which Remus and Sirius are divorced and raising harry and doing their very best.

(this one is about 5k and pretty mild.)

(one more installment to go after this.)

--

September 1st, 1991

The scarlet steam engine slowly disappeared from Sirius’ view as the tightness in his chest grew. He knew this day was coming, and it was so much worse than he imagined it. He had driven to the platform with Harry, his newly eleven-year-old reminding him so much of James as his mouth ran a mile a minute with questions, excitement in every word. Remus was beside Sirius in the passenger seat, and Sirius watched as the other man reached behind to put his hand on Harry’s leg to keep him from bouncing too much. Not that the movement bothered either of them, but because it was far more likely Harry would hit his head on the roof of the car and that would delay the trip to Hogwarts. Something about Remus’ touch could tether both of them so easily.

I’m so proud of you whispered into messy black hair.

I’ll send a lot of letters, I promise, can I go now said back, even though pre-teen arms were still wrapped around Sirius’ waist.

We love you

And then Harry was gone with the train and Sirius was fighting back tears he hadn’t expected, locked like a statue on the platform for several dozen minutes.

“This…is the worst day of my life, I think.” Sirius finally spoke, turning his head towards Remus who was standing next to him, lightweight cardigan thrown over a t-shirt, and worn loafers.

Remus’ eyes met his own somberly. Maybe it was the worst day of his life too. But then the corners of his mouth turned up in a wry half-smile, “James and Lily dying.”

“I think this is slightly worse.”

“Remember when we got divorced?”

“Oh, this is definitely worse than that.”

“We…also got married,” Remus said lightly and Sirius finally managed a tiny laugh, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. Most of the other parents had already left the platform, Remus and Sirius standing there feeling like the only two people left on earth. The last time Sirius had felt that way had been November 1st, 1981 when everything went from bad to worse and he held onto Remus even as he was being taken away to Azkaban, fingertips touching until they couldn’t anymore. The tension between them had leveled out. Broken glass on the floor of their relationship--what they were calling co-parenting-- cleared away and they both remembered to put on shoes now before walking to avoid getting cut.

Conversations drifted back into being pleasant.

They both dropped their wands.

They had lived through one war by the skin of their teeth, they didn’t cause another with no one else to blame but themselves. A truce that felt similar to forgiveness.

“Harry leaving is still worse but…that may get precedent over James and Lily,” Sirius said lightly.

“I was thinking the same thing. It was so fucking hot that day. I was actually sweating the entire time. Really that should’ve been the sign.”

“The pianist rushed too. I swear you were running down the aisle towards me.”

“Quick and painless. Like pulling off a bandage.”

Sirius laughed again, looking down at his feet to scuff the toe of his black boots on the ground. “Thanks.”

Dark humor to brighten a dark situation and to keep Sirius from slipping away into the darkness as well.

“I just didn’t want you crying in public, that’d be embarrassing.”

“I know.”

“You want to go?”

“Not really,” Sirius shrugged thinking of his haunted house in London. Harry was gone and the ghosts would surely come back. “…you wouldn’t want to go get absolutely plastered, would you? Black out and forget this day ever happened?”

He waited for Remus to tell him he had work tomorrow. Hell, Sirius had work tomorrow and an entire day of taking notes on the wizarding world's legal system. But managing a hangover and focusing all of his energy on staying awake tomorrow seemed better than going home to emptiness.

“Two conditions.”

“Hm?

“You’re buying and we leave the pub by 4.”

Sirius grinned slowly, “Easy enough, Moons.”

--

November 1992

It had been ages since Remus had truly seen Sirius lose every ounce of composure and unleash every swear word under the sun at someone else. Parenthood and time had made Sirius think before rushing into situations and opening his mouth when there needn't be a response. It had been even longer since he had heard Sirius use his last name as influence and pressure to get something done, thinking back to Sirius arguing with the ministry on his behalf to amend a custody agreement.

My fucking vault funds half this place. You’ll do what I’m asking, Fudge.

Remus often wondered if roles were reversed if he would have it in him to move as strong and sure as Sirius did in the world, or if Remus would still pause and hesitate.

Remus stood in the hospital wing, wincing slightly as he listened to the conversation Sirius was having with Dumbledore and McGonagall in the hallway, barely behind a closed door while keeping an eye on Harry in the hospital bed. Their pre-teen looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but there with his good hand over his face, the other arm wrapped and in a sling.

“His best intentions? Bullocks! My godson’s arm was turned into jelly and you call that the best of intentions? This man is responsible for teaching children? I want him fired. Immediately.” Sirius shouted from the hallway.

“Mr. Black, I understand you’re upset with the result but we simply cannot suspend a--” Professor McGonagall started, their former Head of House trying to reign in the thunderstorm that was Sirius Black. She had once been an expert at it, the only professor in all of Hogwarts able to get Sirius to stop talking with a single look; the only one who had perhaps taken the time to see the wounded insides of the eldest Black boy. Remus distinctly remembered Sirius giving her a hug at graduation and McGonagall wiping away a tear at something he had said to her.

“Like hell, you can’t,” Sirius said, “I will call a Board meeting right now and he will be voted out so quickly you won’t even be able to say “lemon drop”! I don’t want to have to go over your head and do that. I’d rather we come to an understanding right now.”

“Make. Him. Stop.” Harry muttered, looking wide-eyed at Remus, “He never does this.”

“Oh, you’re mad if you think I’m getting involved,” Remus told Harry, “You want me to go into the fire?”

“At this rate, he’s going to get Dumbledore sacked too for hiring Lockhart in the first place!” Harry pleaded, “It’s just a…broken arm.”

“He did vanish your bones, Harry.”

“It’s fine. If Lockhart's fired, Snape or something is going to cover the class and then I’ll have two periods of that greasy-git--”

“Hey, he is a professor.”

“Yeah, and a greasy-git. Two things can be true.”

Remus bit back a snort and raised an eyebrow, “You’ve been talking with your godfather too much.”

“So you call him Severus?”

“Let’s not go that far, love…” Remus paused to listen again, as Harry's grimace returned at the unmistakable sound of Sirius slipping into French every other word. “They don’t know French, Remus! Please, go do something before everyone's sacked!”

“Okay, okay, you’re right.” Remus held up his hands in defeat before walking out of the hospital wing towards the direction of the argument. Sirius was in the hallway, clad in a burgundy sweatshirt, his hair pulled back with a glittering gold scrunchy and Remus couldn’t help but find it impressive that Sirius was scolding two very well-respected educators within an inch of their life in such ridiculous attire.

“I assure you, Sirius, we are not taking this incident lightly,” Dumbledore spoke in his calm voice that Remus knew drove Sirius up a wall.

“So you have a three-strike system? Fucking idiot gets to--”

“He is a teacher, Mr. Black,” Professor McGonagall interrupted.

“Yeah, and a fucking idiot too. Two things can be true at once,” Sirius told her and Remus pinched the bridge of his nose at the familiarity of the dialogue. Too much time around his godfather had been right. “Is your plan just to hope that he doesn’t do something like this again? Or wait to see if he does something worse? I’m sorry, Albus, but that’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard and if you honestly believe that’s the best solution then you’re a fucking idiot--”

“Sirius,” Remus finally said, putting his hand on his ex-husband's shoulder, “You have made your point, very loud and clear. We get it.”

“So tell me why Lockhart isn’t packing his trunk?” Sirius folded his arms and looked at Remus, his jaw clenching in a way that was very seventeen and not thirty-two.

“Finding a replacement teacher in the middle of a school year is challenging, Mr. Black,” explained McGonnagal, her face looking relieved at the intervention.

“Remus can do it,” Sirius said immediately.

“I--what? Sirius, come on, be reasonable.”

“I am. You’ve been teaching for years now, he’s a private tutor, you know what you’re doing, you got a NEWT in Defense…Remus can do it.”

“I promise you, that isn’t necessary, he’s being belligerent,” Remus kept his hand on Sirius’ shoulder, as he looked at the faces of his former Headmaster and Head of House. It was just supposed to be an innocent game of Quidditch; there were plans to take Harry out to dinner for celebrating and even more plans that involved a joint and a bottle of wine at Grimmauld Place after. It had become their own tradition since Harry had been on the team. They hadn’t missed a game and they hadn’t missed an opportunity to rejoice in a victory or wallow in a loss with expensive alcohol. There had even been an occasion where Remus baked edibles, and he woke up the next morning in his pants sprawled out in Sirius’ sitting room couch. Of course, Sirius had made it to his bed that evening but had also decided to garden in the dead of night, his ex-husband absolutely horrified at the fig tree in the middle of the kitchen the next morning. Remus was still hopeful it would end that way, assuming Sirius could get control of his temper and also assuming Dumbledore and McGonnagal caved to his request of having Lockhart sacked.

Otherwise, there would be a Board meeting. Remus had no doubts about that.

“May we have until the end of term, Sirius?” asked Dumbledore.

“No, but I’ll give you two weeks.”

“I would take that, it’s only going to get worse,” Remus offered, “I’m not…going to accept the position but if you do need assistance with proctoring exams, I am more than happy to help, sir.” Sirius made a small noise in the back of his throat at the title. There was once a time all of them had thought Dumbledore to be the most powerful wizard they had met; the person who had all the answers. Remus wasn’t so sure anymore, holding onto the last kernel of faith, but Sirius had abandoned all of that somewhere in the middle of the war. Somewhere between getting refused a trial and thrown into prison at the hands of the other man even if it was just twenty-four hours. When Harry had been delivered to the doorstep of Lily’s sister without taking Remus into consideration.

“Thank you, Mr. Lupin.”

“I’ll be in touch in two weeks,” Sirius’ tone was brisk, and without an ounce of respect, grey eyes focused on the retreating backs of Dumbledore and McGonagall, robes trailing on the ground.

“Feel better?” Remus asked, catching Sirius’ gaze in his own, and Sirius rolled his eyes. “No, no, please tell me. Did that make you feel good?"

“Okay, I…might have lost my cool.”

“Might have?” laughed Remus, and Sirius cracked a smile running his hand over his hair and taking out the gold scrunchy, putting it on his wrist, “I think you just taught Harry at least three new swear-words.”

“Did…did I not put a silencing charm up?”

“No.”

“Fuck.”

“Sirius.”

Sirius’ smiled grew, after taking a moment to look mildly ashamed as he reflected on all the words he had spoken, “On the positive, I think I also got you a job?”

“Impulse control is at a zero sometimes, I swear, Sirius..."

“His arm had no bones, Remus! None! Nothing I said was untrue and I stand by that.” Sirius said pointedly, “Now do I…wish…I had been able to calmly state my dissatisfaction? Sure. But…I think I was effective.”

Remus shook his head, “Some things don’t change, hm?”

“So you disagree with what I said?” Sirius asked, “You think he’s a perfectly competent man and I was being too harsh?”

“Oh, no, I think he is also a…what did you say, oh, yeah, fucking idiot, but that doesn’t mean I’d advertise it.”

“I did it for both of us. I believe that is what one calls, taking one for the team.”

Remus laughed again, finally moving his hand from Sirius’ shoulder to pat the side of his face, “Hothead.”

“Yeah. I know. Take it up with my mother.”

“And you’ll have a word with your godson about being respectful and--”

“YOU HAVE TO GIVE A WRITTEN APOLOGY, SIRIUS. AN APOLOGY TO ME FOR BEING EMBARASSING!” shouted Harry from his hospital bed and Sirius laughed even louder, the anger that was once there evaporating into thin air.

“Kid is so lucky. One of us is going to teach at Hogwarts, and the other one is on The Board of Governors and causes scenes in hallways…” Sirius mused, “Of the things we’ve done, James and Lily would be most proud of this moment.”

“You definitely gave Lily a run for her money with that dressing down…”

--

March 1993

“Cheers to the youngest seeker of the century and a winning game!” Sirius raised his glass of whiskey up to Remus’ butterbeer, the two of them sat at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade after another Gryffindor victory. Remus had been mortified when Sirius had imposed the idea of him teaching at Hogwarts upon Dumbledore and McGonagall, but when a letter came two weeks later asking if he would be interested in the position, Remus was surprised at how inspired he felt.

Teaching at Hogwarts had always been the dream. It had been Remus’ favorite place as a kid. It had been where Remus had fallen in love with magic and the idea of teaching in the first place. And even if the position had been offered to him the pressure of a persistent and furious Sirius Black who had more money and influence than he knew what to do with, Remus was nevertheless willing to take the meeting.

This was the shake he had been waiting for. The wake-up call.

The change that he needed to get him out of the routines that he had set up, and the rut he had unconsciously gotten himself in despite trying to put himself out there. Accepting the position had forced him to move; had forced him out of his carefully curated comfort zone; had made space for him to grow and it only took a week of teaching for him to floo to Grimmauld Place and say thank you with his arms around Sirius.

Remus was grateful more often now. Making up for the years he hadn't said it at all.

“Cheers,” Remus responded, taking a sip out of the bottle, taking in his surroundings. A few of the other professors not on duty were trickling in as well, Remus giving them nods in greeting as they walked in.

“So now that you’re on the other side of the equation, is Snape still as big of an asshole? Do you put spiders in his porridge in the morning?”

“That’s childish, Sirius.” Remus told him, “But there was one day I kept charming a pebble to lodge itself in his shoes because he kept interrupting my lesson with un-urgent matters.”

Sirius laughed, a few of the professors looking in Remus’ direction at the sound of joyful thunder, “You always had the best ideas.”

“The best part was he couldn’t point fingers at me without sounding insane.” Remus grinned, taking another sip, “It’s…nice having…colleagues though.”

“Is that what you’re calling them?”

“What?”

“Who’s the one you keep making eyes at?”

Remus choked, a little, and Sirius grinned mischievously, “I don’t…I am not making eyes,” Remus told him, though as he was speaking his eyes were very much trailing over to the other staff table. Professor Andre Babbling had been appointed the new Professor for Ancient Runes at the start of this year, joining the rounds of younger faculty at Hogwarts. A few years ahead of Remus in school, in Ravenclaw, Professor Andre Babbling was definitely easy on the eyes with his dark skin and brown eyes that caught morning sunlight just right at the staff table. Remus had stuck with pleasantries initially when he sat at the staff table his first month of teaching and tried not to escort himself to the hospital wing for heart failure when Babbling smiled at him and a flush blossomed over his entire body.

He had always been a fucking fool for a smile and Babbling happened to have a dimple which made matters much worse.

But Babbling turned out to be talkative and passionate about a subject Remus had found dry while taking it, though he was incredibly thankful for the NEWT he deemed useless because it gave him a leg to stand on. Remus could pretend to be interested in something if it meant he could be in close proximity of a smile and a dimple and brown eyes and long, lean forearm muscles that poked out from under his robes. In fact, Remus could pretend to do a lot of things if it meant that someone was looking at him again the way Babbling did.

No one had looked at Remus like he was made of something special since Sirius. He had tried--random dates and meetings at coffee shops ending in calling cabs and making up excuses to leave early and wishing them away to the opposite end of the world so Remus could avoid them entirely--but none of them burned Remus alive with desire or possibility. Babbling looked at Remus like he was a divine entity, and Remus didn’t want him to stop. He missed what it felt like to be the center of someone else's world, and he missed what it felt like to look across a room and know someone else would be looking back.

“I mean, I can always make a show and turned around and look and guess myself, if--”

“No, please don’t do that,” Remus said, his hand shooting out to keep Sirius from turning obviously over his shoulder, “It’s…the Runes professor. The one next to Sinastra?”

Sirius hummed, “You always had good taste.”

“Don’t flatter yourself.”

“I wasn’t, I was referring to that bloke before me, what was his name…Cresswell? He was handsome too, in an odd sort of way. With the blonde hair and all.” Sirius shrugged, “So what's your plan?”

“Plan?”

“He’s making eyes back. The chemistry is palpable.”

“I cannot believe you’re instigating this.”

“It’s one of my better qualities.” Sirius took a sip of his whiskey, “You should go sit over there.”

“W-what? No, I…I can’t.”

“Why not? You work here. You can join their lunch table or whatever, you’re cool enough.”

“I…what…about you?”

“I’ll finish my drink and be on my way. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sirius, really, it’s okay, I don’t--” but Sirius rolled his eyes, tossing back the rest of his whiskey, and stood up from the bar, putting several galleons on the counter for their check. There was no bitterness in grey eyes; not a drop of resentment or fear that Remus was moving on after years of holding on to a golden safety net of consistency. For better and for worse, Sirius was his last connection to familiarity. One more step and all that was gone.

It was terrifying. And exhilarating.

Is this how Sirius lived his life? On the edge of becoming all the time?

“I’ll see you next time, Remus. Let me know how it goes, yeah?”

“I…just…what do I say?”

“Maybe start with Hi? And then…end with I am very well hung.” Sirius teased giving Remus a wink and a cheeky grin.

“You’re…impossible,” Remus muttered but Sirius just gave him a wave and walked out of the Three Broomsticks, going to find his motorcycle that was parked in the village. Remus took another sip from his butterbeer and a deeper breath to steel his nerves.

He took the final step, the solid ground falling out from underneath his feet and he grabbed a helmet, ready for a crash landing as his eyes connected with deep brown ones from across the room once more.

--

June 1993

“Did you know Remus has a boyfriend?” asked Harry almost as soon as he got in the car, no longer on the platform and in a safe place. Remus had would be at Hogwarts for a little longer, finishing up grading and end-of-term exams.

“I…heard rumors.”

“What does that mean?” Harry asked, a scowl on his face as he buckled his seatbelt and Sirius raised his eyebrows at the gruffness of the response.

“It means of the things that is better for us not to talk about in extensive detail, dating is one of them and I have only heard whispers in passing of this boyfriend,” Sirius explained putting the key into the ignition.

“Yeah, well, it’s another teacher. At Hogwarts.”

“I know.”

“It’s weird.”

“Him dating or the teacher part?”

“The teacher part…” Harry shifted in his seat, slouching down further and Sirius smiled a little as he backed out of the car park. Thirteen was around the corner and was apparent in every inch of Harry’s demeanor. “I dunno. It’s different.”

“Have you talked with him about it?”

“He talked with me about it…so, I guess.”

But there was a reason Harry had chosen him for this conversation.

“I’m listening, kid.”

“Not a kid…”

“You’re my kid and I love you.”

Harry softened, at the phrase, apparently never too old and mature to hear those three words. “It’s…is he all of a sudden going to start coming to Christmas? Or when I turn thirteen is…he going to be there? Or if we all go to a Quidditch match, will you get another ticket for him?” he asked in rapid succession, “I know you see people but they don’t exactly stick around and you’ve never had me meet them. And…Remus did? Sort of? Or I already kind of knew Professor Babbling from around school. I’m just not sure what to make of it.”

“Love, I think these are questions you can ask Remus.”

“I’m asking you.”

“If…I buy tickets to a match, I’ll ask you who you want there. You don’t even have to bring me if you don’t want. I’ll buy the tickets and let you go with Bill Weasley as your responsible guardian.”

“The twins? They’re older.”

“Not a chance,” Sirius grinned, “And…it’s your birthday party, you get to decide who is there. And as for Christmas dinner at The Weasleys…that might be up to Remus, or… whoever extends the invitations, but…our holiday can still be just for us if that's what you want.”

“I don’t want to make Remus sad if…I dunno.”

“I promise, we can take it, Harry.”

--

December 1993

“Is…he always like that?” asked Andre, walking with Remus outside into the winter snow, just outside Grimmauld Place. His dark eyelashes had snowflakes clinging to them, the magical drive disappearing as they got closer to the street where there was a portkey he could take back to his flat. Remus had wanted him to meet Harry outside of school. Remus wanted him to meet Sirius at all, the two of them only saying hello in passing prior to dinner that evening when Sirius would call on the mirror or be in Remus' office at Hogwarts for tea on the weekends.

“Who Harry? He’s thirteen. I think he’ll be like that until he’s eighteen or so say the adolescent development books. Teenagers shouldn’t be a surprise to you.”

“Not Harry. He was…how I expected him to be.”

“...Sirius?”

“Your ex.” Andre confirmed, “Is he always like that?”

“I…think you have to be more specific,” Remus said, brows furrowing as he tried to think of infractions or tears Sirius might have caused throughout the evening. He had set the table for Remus; he made polite conversation and told appropriate stories to Andre about them back in Hogwarts; he had kept Harry in check, intervening with a light touch on Harry’s shoulder or asking their teenager for help with someone minor just so Harry could have a break from meeting my parent’s new boyfriend when his ex-husband was in the room. Remus actually had every intention of rushing back inside and expressing endless gratitude for Sirius, unable to comprehend that the evening had gone so well when he had been tossing and turning about it for days. It seemed so silly to have lost sleep over it now.

“I don’t know. He’s just…kind of a lot? Does he always offer to take your plate? Or…did he offer to make dessert for this evening or did you ask him to? Playing music you liked? All the stories and asking me questions--the eye contact was…was that an intimidation thing or is he just like that?”

Remus stared for a moment before laughing at the absurdity of Sirius’ eye contact ever being intimidating. Thinking that if Sirius had wanted to ruin the evening, he very well could have and it wouldn’t have been with eye contact. Laughter was apparently the wrong response, Andre’s hand pulling from Remus’s instantly.

“You’re..you’re serious?”

“I don’t like you laughing at me. I just had dinner with your ex-husband and you’re laughing?”

“It’s just Sirius,” Remus explained, “That’s just…the allure of Sirius Black. I promise it wears off.”

“It seems to me like he’s still into you.”

Remus had to clear his throat violently to keep from laughing again, “Andre…I know how Sirius looks on the outside. But…that’s just what he does.”

“Takes care of you?”

“You have to understand we have a lot of history and we have a kid together. Of course, he’s going to take care of me but it’s not like we’re super crazy close and have a bunch of inside jokes and…”

“But you do.”

They did.

“Okay…so we do. That doesn’t mean--”

“Remus, I fancy you quite a lot. I’d like to spend more time getting to know Harry and spending time with you. I just can’t see where I fit into this if he’s in the picture.”

“We’re co-parents Andre. He has to have a place in my life.”

“You’re not just co-parents. You’re best friends. And…I don’t know if I can stick around if your best friend is him.”

“It’s not a competition. It’s not…I have love to give to both of you. It’s not either-or.”

“I guess I don’t see it that way.”

What they don’t tell you when you stand at an altar with someone, holding onto their hands and watching eyes mist up with emotion is that when it all ends, you’ll spend the rest of your life comparing people to them. Unintentionally, but it happens. Remus did it with Andre, making lists of qualities that mimicked Sirius’ thinking Merlin, I have a type; making a contrasting list of qualities that couldn’t be more different and seeing which one he preferred. He stared back at Andre and the hands that were now hidden away in coat pockets.

Funny how history could repeat itself.

I don’t know how to make it fit anymore. I don’t know if we fit anymore.

--

Harry was in his bedroom, running upstairs as soon as Remus and his guest had walked out the front door, leaving Sirius to clean up the kitchen on his own. He left the pie and bottle of wine out, pouring a glass for Remus whenever he walked back in while he got his own glass of whiskey.

Remus had his arm around someone new, and Remus was happy for it. The golden hour light that Remus had radiated in their teenage years-- the light that Sirius had fallen for in the first place-- had returned with a vengeance, with the arrival of a man who was well-read and just as dry. Professor Babbling was growing flowers in the places Sirius had just made holes. Remus’s garden had flourished after all the years spent watering it with heartache and nurturing it with his own delicate hands, and Sirius was glad for it.

Sirius jumped up onto the counter, piece of pie in hand and he heard the front door open and close, followed by footsteps. Remus walked in looking crestfallen, his arms wrapped around his body. Coat still on, hands slightly blue.

Sirius put his fork down and tilted his head, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Remus said simply looking up to meet Sirius’ eyes.

“Alright?”

“I just broke up with my boyfriend after…I thought tonight went surprisingly well.”

Sirius made to get off the counter but Remus held his hands out. A nonverbal signal not to come any closer. He stayed where he was.

“I…thought it went well too.”

“You’re too much,” Remus told him.

“What?”

“That’s what he said. That you were too much. You…did too much for me. You...made dessert? And…” Remus looked down at his feet, mismatched socks on the tile floor, “You don’t even know you’re doing it, but you do it, and…I forget how brightly you can burn sometimes because I’ve gotten used to it. And I think about how lucky I am to be in a position where I’m just used to reaping the benefits of all the shit you do, all the time, but you’re too much, Sirius.”

Voices from his past crept into his memory; ones that sounded more like his mother and father than he cared to admit.

You take up too much space.

You’re too loud. Be quiet, Sirius.

Don’t ask so many questions. Speak when you’re spoken to.

You’re a headache, Sirius.

Get out my sight, Sirius.

One that sounded like the shell of Remus when their marriage had gone on way too long and neither of them could see a way out. Before the counseling. Before admitting defeat.

Just stop, Sirius. I don’t need you to do things for me anymore.

You can’t fix everything.

“I’m…sorry.” Sirius told him, “I…I can take a step back, Remus. I won’t be here, next time? Make myself scarce. You didn’t need to…you should be with him. It’s my fault."

Sirius always admitted fault first. Willing to take the fall for someone else's sins after an easy life of never having to be accountable for his own. Privileged, arrogant, Sirius Black. He could take it.

It could be his fault. Even if it wasn’t.

He could dig the grave. Even if he knew there was only space for him in there.

Ice the bruises to make the swelling go down faster.

Bandage Remus’s fist and even his boyfriends. Heal the scrapes and the cuts and let them take another swing. Remus had always been worth the hurt.

It could be his fault. Sirius was too much, after all. He had been told that before. It wasn’t anything new.

Remus shook his head, picking at his nails. Sirius wanted to stand up and put his hands over Remus's to stop the movement. But he stayed. “We’re…not in love anymore, you and I. We’re not, and I don’t want to be either. But…I don’t think I can go on in this life without you. The bloke who I can sit with at a table and say what I’m thinking. I’ll take that over another brush with love.”

Sirius would too.

Every time.