#so who better to give his growing pile of jumpers to

[bogslob]

Sirius Black knits jumpers for Remus Lupin

[velvetcloxds]

COLLECTOR OF BROKEN THINGS| J.P.

Pairing: James x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2455 words

Warnings: mentions of emotionally abusive parent, somewhat angsty��

Summary:  After denying her feelings for James, the reader asks him to sneak up to the astronomy tower with her, taking the opportunity to finally be truly vulnerable in front of him.  

“I have a question,” Sirius notes, hand reaching to grab another chocolate-frog from the pile of candy thrown onto James’ bed. “Who do you think she’d choose between the four of us?” He asks and James eyes him curiously.

“What do you mean?” He questions, biting into his own treat.

“Well, we certainly know her better than anyone else, so I’m thinking that if she’d ever consider dating someone, we’d have a better shot than some random bloke in school,” Sirius explains with a numb shrug, leaning back against the headboard, Remus and Peter mimicking James’ confusion.

“Why do you care?” Peter asks, eyeing the last chocolate-frog carefully, wanting to take it until James beats him to it. He sighs softly before folding his arms and looking back at the raven-haired boy.

“I don’t know,” Sirius offers lightly, smiling when he notices Peter’ gaze shifting back to the chocolate in James’ hands. “Just curious I guess; we’ve been friends with her for so long and Y/n still seems like a mystery.”

“To you,” Remus notes with a scoff, lifting his eyes from his fingers which are fiddling with one of Sirius’ rings. “I think she’s taken a bit more of a liking to one of us,” He grins as he nods towards James, who is conveniently preoccupied with disposing of the candy wrappers. The boys laugh lightly, knowing that this is the complete opposite direction that James wanted this conversation to head in.

“I know you’re looking at me,” James offers with a light eyeroll, hand rushing though his hair as he leans back against the headboard as well. “And I’d have you know that she wouldn’t consider dating any of you fools,” He states plainly, throwing the unopened chocolate-frog onto Peter’s lap, the boy smiling gratefully as he takes the candy into his hands. “And that includes me.”

“Oh, you’ve tried your luck, have you?” Sirius muses, bumping the boy’s shoulder lightly with his own earning another group of laughs. “Did she turn you down, Prongs? Break your little heart?” He questions with a playful smile which is quickly removed when James punches him on the arm, not too hard, but hard enough to prove his point.

“It’s complicated,” James finally says meekly, looking between the three of them as Sirius drapes an arm around his shoulder, picking up on the boy’s mood shift.  Remus watches the interaction carefully, preparing to change the subject to protect the peace when a soft knock sounds at the door.

“Did you invite a girl up here?” Peter asks, looking to Sirius for an answer, Sirius shakes his head.

“It’s been a slow week,” He states plainly, ���Besides, it’s the middle of the night, no girl would risk it, not even for me.” The second knock is louder and James sighs lightly as he pushes Sirius’ arm away to get up.

“James?” A soft voice questions and the boys all freeze, James looking at the door with large eyes and furrowed brows. “It’s me. It’s Y/n,” She clarifies in the same tone although it wasn’t necessary at all, he’d recognize her voice anywhere.

“James, she shouldn’t be here,” Remus offers quickly, standing up from the bed as well. “It’s way past curfew and she shouldn’t be in the Gryffindor dorms,” He stills at the boy’s side, frowning as he too looks at the still closed door. “She can get in a lot of trouble,” Remus notes worried, both about the fact that she may get onto trouble but also because she may very well be in trouble already if she’s here.

“Boys?” She asks, voice a little louder, though still not loud enough to announce her presence to anyone other than the fours boys in the room. “I can hear you in there,” She notes which causes a slight shuffle as Remus pushes James towards the door, inaudible words of motivation drifting from his lips when James carefully turns the doorknob.

“Hi,” James offers meekly as he opens the door, stumbling to the side as the girl comes into view. She smiles slightly, pulling at her jumper sleeves and focusing her attention to the ground where she shifts her weight between her feet. A warmth spreads through James’ body at the adorable sight, his own lips tilting into a smile.

“What are you doing here, Y/n?” Sirius questions cautiously, meeting at Remus’ side.

“I don’t know,” She replies after a moment, hesitantly looking up to meet James’ eyes. “I couldn’t sleep and so I decided to take a walk and somehow I ended up here.” She explains, pulling at her sleeves even more as she grips them between her fingers.

“Do you want to come in?” James smiles reassuringly as he looks at her, stepping aside to invite her in, but she shakes her head, eyes not leaving his. “What do you want to do, love?” He questions carefully and her cheeks flush at the words. Y/n was no stranger to the boys using little nicknames when they talked to her, it was their way of showing her they cared, but something about the word dripping from the lips of James Potter had her feeling some type of way.

“I was wondering if maybe you wanted to accompany me to the astronomy tower?” She looks around the room, taking in their ever-growing confusion.

“All of us?” Peter asks, still positioned on the bed as he peaks between Sirius and Remus to meet Y/n’s gaze at the door.

“No,” She answers quickly, blushing again when the boys deliver a shared hum of acknowledgement, and she turns back to James. “Just you,” She clarifies and shrugs lightly when James smiles down at her. “Only if you want to…”

“Of course, I do,” James replies too quickly, ignoring the less than subtle smirks on his friends’ silent lips. “Let me put on a shirt and shoes, yeah?” He nods at her quickly, catching Remus’ worried glare when he walks into the dorm, grabbing the nearest jumper and pulling it on, searching around for his shoes.

“You okay, darling?” Sirius asks while James’ searches and Y/n musters a small smile.

“I’m fine, Siri, don’t worry,” Sirius furrows his brows, raking his eyes over her for any sign of the opposite and then nods, mustering a smile of his own.

“You’ll tell us if you’re not?” Remus inquires in return, James stumbling to the door as he slips on his shoe.  She merely nods, stepping into the hall for James to join her. However, a strong hand on his shoulder stops him. “Take the cloak,” Remus commands calmly and nods towards the girl in the hall, he leans forward. “Look out for her.”

“Always,” James tells him, nodding at Peter when he hands him the cloak. “Always.”

“You didn’t tell them,” She notes after a while of silent walking, James looking around every few minutes to make sure that they’re still alone in the halls. She steals a glance his way, biting her lip at his nervous behavior. “You tell them everything, but it didn’t seem like you told them this,” He nods, looking up as they climb the stairs to their destination.

“They didn’t have to know,” James looks around  the tower quickly, giving a slight nod when there’s no one there, gesturing for her to come in as well. “I knew there was a chance that you only liked me as a friend and I’m completely fine with that,” He tilts his head to look at her when she stills at his side. “It’s fine, love,” He shrugs. “I’m not upset, I’m not hurt. You’re one of my best friends and as long as that stays the same then it’s fine.”

“No,” She whispers, James not hearing her objection as he walks over to the railing, dropping the cloak next to him as he looks down at all of Hogwarts with the night breeze ruffling through his hair. “It’s not fine,” She clarifies, louder though shaky as he turns around to see her. “It’s why I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been thinking about it all week, “ She ignores the intense frown on his face as she settles beside him, looking at the view as well. “I handled it wrong, and I lied,” James’ interest is peaked with her last statement, his body turning to look at her.

“What do you mean?” He questions carefully, watching her from the side as she considers her reply, eyes drifting around tiredly.

“You told me that you liked me, and I told you that I didn’t like you back- which was a lie,” She shakes her head, fingers tightening around the railing. “A horrendous lie, because I don’t just like you, James, I think I may be falling in love with you,” Her voice fades, words falling from her lips like she had no control over them, and James can’t fight the delighted smile which they prompt from him. The expression doesn’t last though, his shoulders sinking when he realizes that the girl beside him wears a contrasting frown instead.

“Why did you lie?” He asks her softly, inching closer to her. Y/n simply shakes her head, refusing to meet the boy’s gaze for even a second, his presence being enough to set every nerve in her body on fire. He gently lays his hand over one of hers, the subtle motion making her look up at him instantly. “Why did you lie, love?”

“You’ll think I’m being silly,” She admits shyly, allowing James’ fingers to entwine with her own.

“I could never,” He promises her with a soft nod.

“It terrifies me,” She begins, already squirming for words as the dark-haired boy watches her intently, eyes begging for more as he smiles encouragingly. “I want more than anything to know what it feels like to be loved, James and it’s ridiculous, but that is utterly terrifying to me,” She mindlessly turns around towards him, other hand drifting to his wrist. “Being loved by you terrifies me,” James can’t hide his confusion, her words stirring an uneasy wave of concern in his stomach.

“Why?” Is all he offers as a question in return, not wanting to seem too eager for an explanation, while also being utterly and completely lost.

“You collect broken things, James,” She explains after a second, James’ brows furrowing as he waits for more. “Remus, Sirius, me. You collect broken things, and you try with all your might to fix them and I’m scared that once you realize that I can’t be fixed, you’ll leave me. I’m scared because I don’t want to be just another broken piece in your collection,” James’ questioning gaze softens completely as he watches her eyes fall away from his again and he releases a slow and shaky sigh.

James knew of Y/n’s family situation. He knew that things were difficult with her father, and he knew that Y/n faced plenty of internal struggles. She tried to please everyone, she searched for constant validation, she quite regularly mistakes being used for being needed and she feared failure like it may very well kill her. He had watched her grow more and more anxious as her father’s mental abuse worsened. He watched parts of her slip away and though he remembered who she was vividly, he cared for her far too much to not embrace every part of who she was now.

“You’re not broken,” James informs her simply, sympathetic to her worries yet not entirely happy with her insinuation that there is something wrong with her.

“But I am, James,” She shakes her head, trying to step away but failing when James keeps her still linked hand in his tight grip. “I am, and maybe you can’t see it yet or maybe you just care too much to accept it, but sometimes I can’t see where I begin and where the symptoms of who he is end. “ She allows him to pull her closer, breath caught in her throat as she bites back the tears that formed in her eyes without her permission.

“I can,” He notes with a tight tone, eyes raking over her features as she releases a soft whimper, a single tear trailing over her cheek. “I know exactly who you are, Y/n and I know that though it may feel like it, you are not broken. “ He reaches forward to delicately cup her cheek, catching the tears that spill from her glossy eyes. “I don’t believe you are, and I don’t believe you need to be fixed, but my love, even if you were broken, I still wouldn’t be anywhere other than right at your side. I’d fill your cracks with melted gold, and I’d never ever let anyone come close enough to shatter you again.”

“James,” She quivers, body trembling lightly under his touch and James moves to pull her into his embrace, but she stops him with a gentle hand on his chest .

“I know,” He almost whispers, eyes searching for hers even though he’s staring directly into them. “I know, you’re afraid,” He takes a step closer, accepting her request not to hug her and settling for being as close to her as possible, mindfully moving his thumb across her wet cheek. “I also know that even if you haven’t said it yet, the thought has crossed your mind...” He observes her breathing out slowly, her hand moving to grip his wrist. “I am not your father, Y/n. I will never do anything that could hurt you the way that he has. Do you believe that? Do you trust me?” His question is met with a gentle nod, her eyes closing as she leans into his hand.

“I trust you,” She voices in a whisper, like she’s reminding herself instead of him. He smiles at her, watching as she carefully removes his hand from her cheek, holding his fingers to place the softest whisper of a kiss on the inside of his palm. “I know you’d never hurt me, James. It’s just difficult.”

“We’ll take it slow,” James offers, nodding when her eyes open, a reluctant smile tugging at her lips as she keeps his hand in her own. “As slow as you want, my love. I just want you to feel safe,” He pauses to look at her, her tears drying as she looks up at him expectantly, mimicking the fragile girl who was standing in his doorway a few minutes ago and he smiles. “I just want you to know what love feels like, Y/n and I’m honored to be the one to show you,” A blush creeps onto her cheeks and James’ is sure she would’ve squirmed away from him by now, but she doesn’t- she doesn’t need to.  

In his collection of broken things, she’s his most prized possession. 

Hi there, more of my work can be found on Wattpad under @mjoubertt. Mxx.

Masterlist

[gracelesslady23]

Prongsfoot Week DAY 6 - Questions for this Ship?

Disclaimer: I loved everyone’s answers to the original link. But considering I’m late (whoops) and didn’t want to just repeat everyone’s answers, I used the first 20 questions of from this post instead (hope that’s ok.)

TW: angst, suggestive content, etc.

1.      Who would end a heated argument by defending their actions with ‘because I love you!’ ? 

Sirius. Early in their relationship, he has a habit of making decisions for ‘James’s own good’ that James has to break him out of.

2.      What would they do if the other woke in a manic state after a nightmare? Lots of cuddles and whispered assurances.

3.      Do they wear the other’s clothes? (sweatshirt, bandana, necklace, etc.) Boy do they. In first year, James liked the expensive robes Sirius had been sent to Hogwarts with, and Sirius was obsessed with the few muggle clothes in James’s trunk, so they had ended up just dumping all their clothes into a pile to use together. And although it turned out to be a nightmare to re-separate them before heading home for the summer, they just went ahead and did it for the next year and the one after...

This continued when Sirius ran away from home and went to stay with the Potters, with few clothes of his own and already feeling guilty about taking advantage of Potters generosity (and despite James and his parents’ assurances that they were more than happy to buy him anything he needed) Sirius just lived out of James closet until he got some money of his own.

Even when they are adults and there is absolutely no reason to share anymore and they have developed completely different tastes, they sometimes pluck something out of the others closet (and drive in their partner crazy when they see them… James in a leather jacket and skinny jeans, Sirius in a letterman jacket or polo shirt and v-neck jumper, mmm).

4.      Which one is more protective? Who needs to be ‘protected’?

They are both very protective of each other and of their relationship/connection in general. However, both Sirius and James are also very confident in the other’s abilities, so will let the one being impacted have the first shot and will only jump in protectively if they feel they really need to.

5.      Describe their cozy night in.

Curled up on the sofa in front of the fire, limbs intertwined, talking, joking and laughing together through the night.

6.      Who would beg the other not to leave? James. Who has to leave to protect the other? Sirius (only to be collected and returned home by an irate James the next day).

7.      Would they build a pillow fort together just because? 

Absolutely, they’ll do anything to stave of boredom haha. Only their pillow forts would become so complex and enormous they’d refer to them as pillow castles.

One raining day during the summer Sirius lived with the Potters, James and Sirius built a six story high, monstrosity in the living room having had to expand the size of the living room in order to fit it in and transfigure all the biscuits Euphemia had given them for lunch into cushions to have enough building material. Euphemia and Fleamont were so impressed with the magic involved they didn’t even have the heart to scold them for using magic outside of school.

8.      What happens if one of them gets sick? 

Sirius is horrible at being sick, he essentially pretends he isn’t and goes about his regular routine until he almost collapses and/or James gets fed up, drags him to bed and forcefully takes care of him.

James isn’t much better he throws himself into bed at the first sign of the sniffles, despairingly declaring that he has been unfairly struck down in his prime – after rolling his eyes at the dramatics, Sirius spends the next few days at James’s beck and call until he feels better.

9.      What are their thoughts on having children?

James can’t wait to be a dad and wants a big family to give his children the siblings he never had.

Sirius is more hesitant because he didn’t have the best parental role models growing up and really wants to provide the best environment for any child in his care, but he is more sure with James at his side.

10.  Do either try to hide their emotions if upset? Both (but especially Sirius). Can the other still tell? And yes, in a millisecond, doesn’t mean they don’t try.

11.  Do they have many heated arguments? Hardly ever. How do they smooth things over? They usually go for a run or fly separately to calm down and end up missing each other so much they very soon return home to apologise and make up.

12.  Who’s the bigger tease? Sirius. Sometimes on purpose, but mostly by accident. It drives James crazy.

13.  How do their personalities compliment each other? Perfectly. How do they clash? There is very little they clash on. And mostly their clashes are more jokes than anything.

14.  Do they always say 'i love you' before leaving? Yes. They start yelling it jokingly to each other even before they start dating. After they get together, they just whisper it to each other followed by a goodbye kiss.

15.  Can they stay up all night just talking? Absolutely. Euphemia once joked it was a miracle they got any sleep at Hogwarts considering they never seem to run out of things to say to each other.

16.  Who's more likely to pull the other in by the waist and kiss them passionately? James. Sirius would pull away and laugh it off, but be secretly thrilled.

17.  How likely are they to have fur babies? How many and what kind?

Based on this recent tumblr post, I love the idea Sirius never actually has his own pets but other people’s pets are so enamoured by him that they just kind of adopt him as their new person and Sirius is just fine with it… as is James after a bit of grumbling.

James: Wait, didn’t we only have three cats last night. Where did the black one come from?

Sirius, shrugs while opening a can of cat food: She followed me home last night.

James, rolls his eyes: Are you going to find its owners?

Sirius: It’s not like I’ve kidnapped her, she can go home whenever she wants.

James *dead pan*: Yeah, exactly like the last three cats, two turtles, three hamsters, the brooder collie…

Sirius: They have names, James.

Sirius *addressing the cat*: Honestly, so rude.

18.  How do they feel about PDA? 

They will put on big dramatic displays to make someone uncomfortable or as a laugh. But they are fairly private and protective of their actual relationship.

19.  Choose one song that perfectly describes their relationship.

I love so many songs for them. But it’s got to be Just Friends by Virginia To Vegas. I mean this is the chorus… its perfect.

“So why don't we go out and get a drink in the west end Smoke a cigarette and talk shit about exes Take a couples shots and see where the night ends Stop pretending like we're just friends Why don't we go out and get a drink in the west end One more dance, are you feeling the tension Take a couple shots and see where the nights ends Stop pretending like we're just friends”

[thornedrose44]

Just happened upon your Superdog AU and it's absolutely beautiful, it made my heart burst. Thanks for writing such heartwarming stories!

Hey!

Thank you so much! I loved writing that fic and doing something a bit different in a Supercorp fic. Argos is now very dear to my heart.

I will try to keep up writing heartwarming stories as much as possible!

Superdog AU for anyone interested:

Read on AO3

Argos’ early life was not a pleasant experience.

Firstly, he had yet to be gifted his true name by Saviour, and as such was referred to as ‘Get Lost’ or ‘Eww Don’t Touch It’ or most commonly ‘Shoo’. Argos or Shoo,  at the time, was born into a litter of five others. He was the smallest of his siblings and, subsequently, rarely managed to push his way through his stronger kin to receive his mother’s milk.

It is unsurprising, therefore, that Shoo’s first memory was that of hunger.

The next was that of cold.

His first home was under a pile of wet cardboard, next to a large dumpster. His mother would disappear for long stretches of the day leaving him cuddled with his siblings who would mercilessly shove him with kicking hindlegs to the fringes of their warm pile. Eventually, Shoo sought refuge under a wad of discarded magazines that had been kept somewhat dry by a large box that had once housed a television. It was this need to seek warmth and shelter elsewhere that meant when the group of people in overalls marked with ‘National City Dog Shelter’ across their backs came and took his mother and siblings away in a large van, Shoo was left behind.

That’s when his feelings of hunger and cold were joined by the last emotion that would mark Shoo’s life before he became Argos… loneliness.

Argos preferred not to think about his time as Shoo, his time before Saviour came into his life and ensured he would never be hungry, cold or lonely ever again. It happened though, on occasions when it rained particularly hard or when he was in a particularly dark street. He was inevitably dragged back to his time as Shoo when his skin itched - unable to grow his comforting white fur - when people turned away from him in disgust and when he barely had the strength to stand. Thankfully, whenever he was reminded of his melancholic past, Saviour and her mate were there to rub his belly and kiss his head and call him a Good Boy until he fell asleep spread across both of their laps.

Saviour found him by accident.

See Shoo, at this time, knew better than to be seen by people, knew that they shouted mean things at him and would clap their hands and stomp their feet to scare him away from the somewhat dry nest he had made. But on that particular day - the day that would forever change the course of his life and give birth to Argos - his curiosity had gotten the best of him.

He had heard crying just outside the pile of trash that he was hiding amongst.

When Shoo had ventured to poke his head out of his little nest that was the moment he saw Saviour for the first time - though at this point he had no way of knowing she would become Saviour and as such she was just Woman to him.

Woman was leaning against the wall of the alley that Shoo’s trash pile was situated in, she was wearing dark blue trousers and a cuddly looking jumper that Shoo wished he had to wrap around himself. There was a familiar smell to the Woman that Shoo had learned to associate with aggressive people late at night, yet it wasn’t as strong on Woman as it was on those that taunted Shoo for fun. It was a light accompaniment to the Woman’s natural scent that was mostly floral mixed with something more grounded and earthy like grease or burning electrics - it was a scent that Shoo found welcoming in a way he had never experienced before.

The Woman was crying into her hands and looked exactly how Shoo felt all the time… lonely. No one should feel how Shoo felt. It was a wretched state of being and Shoo didn’t want her to be called ‘Get Lost’ or ‘Eww’ either. Maybe Shoo could make her feel a little less lonely to prevent her from becoming like him.

It was this thought that had Shoo gathering what small amount of strength he had left to lift himself up onto shaky, spindly legs and shuffle slowly out of his hidey hole. The Woman didn’t even notice his approach, her sadness so potent it blinded and deafened her to the rest of the world. Shoo approached tentatively easing down onto his haunches once he was close enough. He barely came up to the Woman’s mid calf, and as carefully as he could, using his last bit of energy, he nudged the woman’s leg with his nose.

The yelp of surprise and shock accompanied by how the woman’s leg jerked back had Shoo immediately turning to scamper back to his nest only to find his legs buckling under the stress and effort. Fear rocketed through him, making his small heart thunder in his chest at the same pace as a hummingbird’s wings.

He shouldn’t have approached the Woman.

He should have stayed in his small damp safe haven and not added scared to his permanent list of hungry, cold and lonely.

He yelped and whined, desperately trying to crawl his way to safety when he felt the gentlest of touches on his aching back followed by the softest of sounds.

“It’s okay, you’re okay. You’re okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”

The tremble that had been vibrating through Shoo’s entire body decreased in intensity. No one had ever spoken to him like that. He had seen other humans talking to each other like that - specifically Big Humans, like Woman, speaking to Smaller Humans - and it had always made him wistful for the warmth of that tone, believing that it would ease his coldness and loneliness if it was directed at him for even the most fleeting of moments.

It was then that Shoo felt his raw, itching body become ensconced in something warm and soft that reminded him of those few occasions where he had been nestled against his mother’s body - a quick glance revealed that Woman had wrapped him up in the jumper he had longed for only a few moments ago. Next thing Shoo knew he was being lifted into the air - his fear skyrocketing to a whole new level before he was pressed against Woman’s body, safely cradled in her arms and surrounded by her welcoming scent.

“I’m going to take you somewhere to get help, okay?” Woman murmured, tucking the jumper more securely around Shoo’s bare - ugly as it was regularly called by passersby - form so that his vision was limited and his panic could be more controlled.

He didn’t really know where Woman was taking him but he trusted her.

She had made him not-cold and not-lonely for the first time in his short life. He would go wherever she took him and it was with that final thought that Shoo slipped into unconsciousness.

XXX

Shoo didn’t really understand what happened next and even years later Argos still couldn’t quite make full sense of his blurred and disjointed memories of that night, though he was sure of one thing… he was dying and most definitely would not have made if not for Saviour’s timely intervention.

He remembered the hum of an engine, and being nudged this way and that by lateral forces as Woman sped through National City in her car. He remembered Woman’s voice changing from gentle and sweet to sharp and direct, though the latter wasn’t directed at Shoo but at a small box she held tight to her ear.

He remembered being lifted gently and placed on a cool table - a new person that smelled too clean and too much like animals all at once was there moving Shoo’s limbs this way and that in a controlled manner that wasn’t cruel but wasn’t warm like Woman either. He remembered the too clean/too scented man shaking his head, his face obscured by a piece of fabric over his mouth whilst his hands, which had been covered by bright purple skin, were shed back to their original dark colour as he stepped away from the table… away from Shoo.

He remembered Woman’s face turning red - looking angry like those that were mean to Shoo in the street whilst simultaneously looking even lonelier than she did previously. Shoo had wanted to soothe her like she had done him, wrap her in his own jumper if he had one to offer but he didn’t so all he could do was nudge his dry nose against her tightly clenched fists and lick gently at the whitened knuckles.

He remembered the anger draining away from Woman, remembered her jaw clenching, remembered her lifting him up and cradling him to her chest as she swept out of the room leaving the cool table and the too clean man behind.

He remembered another car journey that ended with him on a padded table and Woman whispering more words of comfort as he struggled to keep his eyes open despite her begging and pleading for him to hold on. He tried to, he tried so hard - not wanting to let down the first person to show him kindness.

He remembered a sharp flash of pain that was there one moment and gone the next and then and then…

He remembered nothing… just blissful sleep.

XXX

When Shoo awoke (after the night he should have died), it was to find himself in a bright room curled up on the most cuddly of blankets, Woman asleep on a couch nearby, her body angled towards Shoo and pale hand brushing the white floor as if she had reached out to Shoo without conscious thought. The first few days in Shoo’s new life - the transitional period before he truly became Argos - was filled with days spent slumbering away recouping all the energy he had expended over the course of his short life. He was fed well for the first time too, nursed with carefully controlled amounts of water, milk and food by Woman who spent hours researching what to give him on a glowing box.

Woman was with him the entire time.

She was there encouraging him when he finally managed to get back on his feet and wobble around the white space that was this Woman’s nest. She was there bathing him in warm water, rubbing a heavily scented lotion into his skin that eased away the itching and enabled a soft white fuzz to grow and cover his body. She was there smiling broadly, eyes sparkling with happiness when Shoo’s tail moved without his consent when she reappeared into his view after disappearing from sight.

She was there lifting him onto her lap when she was sleepy, hands providing comfort and affection that Shoo didn’t know he had been so starved for until it was granted so freely and often.

“You’re doing so much better.” Woman remarked as Shoo padded confidently after her as she moved around the space. “I should probably get you a proper home.” Woman murmured, her voice turning sad again in a way that Shoo hated.

He didn’t know what a ‘proper home’ was but he figured it couldn’t be a good thing.

Shoo assumed the woman’s sadness was related to the repeated buzzes and flashes that came from the small glowing box she always had with her. Woman would regularly glance at it, a harsh frown appearing whilst her green eyes turned pained and hurt - reminding Shoo all too much of how he would feel when his siblings would carelessly kick him aside or when people would yell and call him ‘Shoo’ like it was a terrible thing to be.

Woman never called him Shoo. She called him ‘Good Boy’ and ‘Sweetie’.

Shoo liked those names far more and would regularly nudge Woman’s hand or leg seeking out a scritch or a term of endearment.

Shoo knew, though, that things were coming to a head one way or another - that life couldn’t be this good to Shoo for this long without something happening. Shoo knew it was the day when Woman took Shoo out of her nest and was unable to meet Shoo’s beseeching gaze. They travelled in the car and Shoo whined the entire time seeing how Woman’s cheeks were marked with tears.

The building they arrived at was familiar purely because of the recognisable words stamped across the door - ‘National City Dog Shelter’. Woman was taking him to the same place as Shoo’s family which merely made Shoo dig his paws into the concrete causing Woman to come to a sharp and sudden halt, her arm jerked backwards by the string connecting the two of them together.

Woman blinked in surprise, tugging on the string that was anchored to Shoo’s body only to find there to be absolutely no give.

“Hey boy, what’s wrong?” Woman coaxed, kneeling down next to Shoo’s stiff body. “This is a good place I promise. They’re going to find you a proper home.”

Shoo didn’t want a proper home - he wanted Woman’s nest.

Shoo didn’t want the family that kicked him and made him go cold and hungry - he wanted Woman’s warm touch and comforting affection.

“Come on, I can’t-” Woman shook her head, swallowing thickly to keep back sobs. “I’m not good at this. I’m not good for you. I’m a…” Woman chuckled, harsh and cruel to herself, “I’m a Luthor.”

Shoo didn’t know what a Luthor was but if Woman was one it had to be a good thing, of that he was certain.

“I don’t… even my best friend doesn’t trust me with… anything . How can I be trusted to look after you? You would be better off with someone like… like Kara or Nia or Alex or… hell, even Brainy.”

Shoo didn’t want a Kara or a Nia or an Alex and he especially didn’t like the sound of a Brainy.

“I can’t- I want to keep you so badly.” Woman whispered, hand reaching out to scratch behind Shoo’s right ear in the way he loved.

Then keep me , Shoo begged through a pleading whimper, turning his head to lick at Woman’s fingers.

“I work too much, I have no friends, I… I…”

You’re warm and kind , Shoo insisted, you saved me .

“I… I…” Woman fell silent as she stared into Shoo’s eyes.

Shoo tried his hardest to make them big and desperate knowing it was the surest way to get himself additional treats even after Woman had said ‘no more’.

Keep me, please.

“Okay, we’re going home.” Woman announced suddenly, green eyes turning clear and determined as she made a decision, bending down to lift Shoo up and head back towards the car. Shoo’s tail thumped joyfully as he nestled his head on Woman’s - no… Saviour’s shoulder. He stuck his tongue out at the flat grey building that would have given him a proper home and the spot where he had made his stand - a spot that now, strangely enough, had four clear cracks in the pavement where his paws had just been…

XXX

Things were different now that Saviour’s nest was now permanently his nest too and he was far more mobile - able to sprint and jump when a mere step had sapped him of all his energy.

Saviour was more firm now, wanting him to learn the rules of their nest which he was eager to do.

He quickly learned that Saviour didn’t like him peeing in the nest, and taught him to head towards the nest’s door whenever he needed to relieve himself so she could take him outside. He also learned that he wasn’t allowed to eat the pointy things Saviour put on her feet even though they fit really well in his jaw - she bought him bright coloured bouncy things instead that he was allowed to destroy to his heart’s content.

He was no longer kept only in the nest, his returning strength meaning Saviour took him for long walks around the city and the park that was filled with other animals and people that treated him with kind curiosity. He was now also brought along to a separate building marked with ‘L-Corp’ on the front of it for most of the day where Saviour met with lots of people who called her ‘Miss Luthor’ and shot odd looks at Saviour whenever she patted his head. There was a woman who was nearly always sat outside Saviour’s daytime nest (as he had taken to calling it) that Saviour called Jess, who snuck him treats and kept him company whenever Saviour had to disappear into the large building.

The biggest change, however, was his name.

He went through many different ones to start with, Saviour trying to identify the most suitable one and unhappy with all of her suggestions.

“Rover? Too cliche.” Saviour would throw out there only to shoot down less than a second later. “Maybe Oliver as in Oliver Twist…” Saviour would then tap her fingers on the arm of the sofa as Shoo merely nuzzled into her side more. “I don’t really like human names for dogs… Maybe Rex or Lassie.”

Shoo didn’t like either of those and huffed out a disgruntled breath in reply.

“Okay so not Rex or Lassie. Let me think.” Saviour hummed, the finger tapping coming to a sudden stop preceding a half muttered, “What about… Argos ?”

Shoo lifted his head at that - that was an interesting name.

“Odysseus’ dog - loyal to a fault and patient beyond measure.” Saviour ruminated.

Now that sounded good, Shoo - no, Argos - thought, I’m loyal to Saviour and I can work on my patience.

“Hmmm…” Saviour turned her head to meet Argos’ keen eyes, “How does Argos sound?”

Argos barked happily in reply.

XXX

Argos did not like this ‘Kara’ being.

She smelled nice, Argos would give her that much, but she made Saviour seriously sad and didn’t even seem to realise. She stopped by daytime nest nearly everyday - Argos’ keen hearing - that seemed to be improving with every passing day - able to pick up Kara’s quick, eager pace as she approached Saviour’s inner sanctum only to be turned away by a firm Jess (who Argos now understood to be Saviour’s Gatekeeper). Kara would even stop by Saviour’s actual nest, knocking twice clear and plaintive only for Saviour to usher Argos and herself to bed for an early night.

Saviour did let Kara into the nests occasionally and Argos did not like it when she did. Saviour was awkward and clearly uncomfortable - the despair that Argos had seen the night they first met bubbling below the surface of fraudulent smiles. Kara knew something was wrong, she was astute enough for that, her bright face creased with confusion and concern, her movements stiff and uncertain in contrast to her light, almost floating footsteps.

Argos would always remember the first time he properly met Kara.

She smelled sweet - like the treats that Saviour rarely allowed herself to indulge in - with something hidden beneath it all, like heavy smoke and fire and something Argos had never smelt before… something new and alien . Her expression was bright and her smile the widest that Argos had ever seen on a person; but her eyes were pained in much the same way that Saviour’s were - clearly they were connected in the same way that Argos was to Saviour… loneliness.

(Considering the shared connection, Argos wondered why that had ceased to be enough between the two of them, why Kara couldn’t see that she merely increased Saviour's loneliness. Argos promised he would never do that. That he would never hurt Saviour and would always protect her in the same way she protected him.)

When Kara entered Saviour’s daytime nest, her gaze was so fixed on Saviour that she didn’t notice Argos sat there in his basket by the sofa for at least five minutes. Those five minutes watching Saviour’s loneliness and despair increase, sensing her growing distress was enough to make Argos hate Kara in a way that he had never hated a person.

Eventually Kara saw him, her expression going through a gamut of reactions before settling on excitement.

“You got a dog?” Kara asked in delight, already forgetting how Saviour had shifted quickly out of their hug only a minute ago.

“More like he got me…” Saviour joked, the loneliness in her green eyes receding to something soft and fond as she looked over at the now rather fluffy white dog that was growing faster than either of them could keep up with. Argos quirked his head to one side at Saviour, jaw falling open in a happy pant that he sent her way.

“What’s his name?”

“Argos.” Saviour declared and Argos couldn’t help how his chest puffed up so that the gold tag etched with his name and attached to his red leather collar glinted in the sunlight.

“Oh, he’s adorable.” Kara cooed, approaching Argos with an outstretched hand.

Argos immediately growled at Kara, warning her to stay back, uninterested in coming into contact with someone that had hurt Saviour in any way, shape or form.

Kara and Saviour both did a double take at that.

“Did he-” Kara murmured, brows drawing tight together as her hand retreated to her side.

“He’s never done that before.” Saviour said. “Has a dog ever growled at you?” Saviour questioned directing this to Kara.

“No…” Kara replied slowly.

Well, clearly all other dogs are stupid , Argos thought haughtily to himself.

Kara didn’t stay much longer after that, Saviour was starting to make repeated gestures towards her large glowing box that she spent most of the day staring into which made it clear Kara’s time was up. Once the blonde alien had left, Saviour came and sat on the sofa opposite Argos where she eyed him seriously.

“She’s not a bad person, you know?” Saviour revealed, having known exactly what had led to Argos growling. “She… is a hero, she saves people.”

No, Saviour saves people.

“She just…” Saviour sighed, picking at a thread on her restrictive black skirt. “She’s saved me many times before.”

But she also hurt you , Argos insisted, padding over to Saviour to rest his head on her knee knowing it brought her comfort after a long day.

“I just don’t know why I’m never good enough…” Saviour confessed, curling her body forward to rest her head against Argos’.

You’re good enough for me.

XXX

The eventual fallout between Saviour and Kara was heartbreaking in a way Saviour had never seen before.

Shoo had seen people argue, had seen them scream and punch and kick. He had seen terrible things but watching Saviour and Kara cry and sob at each other hurt Argos’ heart in a profound way. Saviour wanted to cause pain to Kara with vicious words, that was without doubt, but underneath that rather superficial layer they wanted the same thing.

Each other.

It was obvious in how their fingers twitched at their sides - eager to reach out.

It was clear in how they couldn’t bear to make eye contact, couldn’t bear to see that which was no longer theirs.

It was apparent in how they both glanced back at each other when Kara, finally clad in bright colours, flew off the balcony.

They wanted each other but had no idea how to get just that.

All Argos could do after it was all over was curl up next to Saviour on her bed and let his white fur be used to catch her tears.

Saviour was sad all the time once Kara stopped coming around which led to Argos sticking to her side like glue. He nudged her with his nose and tugged at her clothes forcing her to take him for their usual walks and see the world. He made her laugh with silly antics like chasing his tail and tapping his feet excitedly whenever she got up. He brought pictures of Sam and Ruby over to her, encouraging her to phone them and invite them to visit - Argos liked it when they visited, Ruby snuck him extra treats and Sam made Saviour laugh loudly into the night.

Kara, or Supergirl as Saviour occasionally called her, would still fly by their two nests frequently (sometimes every hour of the day and into the night) - keeping out of sight of Saviour.

Argos, though, knew she was there. Her clothing and hair were different but her scent didn’t change and Argos could smell her from miles away.

Saviour improved over time, re-found her equilibrium and that unfaltering kindness that had saved Argos. She was still sad every now and again in much the same way Argos got sad when he remembered Shoo but it was a nostalgic sadness that Argos could do little to aid.

XXX

It became steadily apparent to Saviour that Argos was not a… normal dog.

He could hear Saviour’s heartbeat, could hear her whenever she disappeared into the twisting corridors of their daylight nest, could hear her stir with nightmares in the dead of night that had Argos nudging her gently awake with a wet nose on her cheek.

Argos could run faster than all the other dogs at the park, it was then that Saviour started to truly take notice - when Argos outran a recently retired greyhound for a fuzzy tennis ball - and Argos began to understand that maybe he wasn’t like other dogs anymore.

He destroyed his toys far quicker than expected, so quickly that the young woman at the pet store had stared in horror at the mangled, barely recognisable, red toy that was meant to be one of the sturdiest available when Saviour had presented it back to the store only a day after purchasing it. It was this look of abject horror that prompted Saviour to make a quick escape with Argos and declare on the car journey back to the nest that she would make her own range of pet toys.

Saviour began to assess him then by giving him new toys and recording how long, on her glowing box, it took for Argos to snap it in half or deform it beyond recognition.

The definitive nail in the coffin of normality came when Saviour finally saw how Argos had been sneaking extra treats whenever her back was turned. Saviour stored Argos’ favourite treats on the top shelf in her kitchen, far out of reach even if Argos stood on his hind legs.

Saviour came out of her bedroom early one morning to find her rather large white dog floating in the air nose buried within the open pack of treats on the top shelf.

XXX

“I need your-” Saviour began only to cut off as Kara stepped through Saviour’s front door. “Are you… um… wearing odd shoes?” Saviour inquired, all her panic evaporating in an instant as her gaze honed in on Kara’s unmatched footwear: one a flat, open-toe pink shoe, the other a red converse.

“Uh… yeah…” Kara replied, ruefully rubbing the back of her neck, “I seem to have been robbed.”

“What?”

“But only my shoes. Only one of each pair to be exact… so, I only have odd shoes.” Kara explained, expression equal parts pinched and perplexed. “I keep buying new ones but one shoe always goes missing....”

“Huh…” Saviour exhaled and Argos could feel her looking at him accusingly out of the corner of her eye.

Argos moved his head this way and that; looking everywhere around the room but at Saviour and Kara which for some reason only made Saviour narrow her gaze further at him.

“I think I know who the culprit is…” Saviour revealed with a sigh, crossing her arms and jerking her chin towards Argos who felt not even a tiny bit of shame for his actions.

“Uhh… what?” Kara laughed in disbelief. “You think… Argos stole all my shoes?”

Argos smirked at the blonde.

“I mean he does looks rather smug but… how on Earth do you think-”

“He can fly.” Saviour announced, shocking Kara to stunned silence. “He’s also superstrong, superfast and I think he has super hearing - he always warns me well in advance when people I don’t like are on their way.”

“He barks whenever I flyby…”

“Exactly.” Saviour agreed, causing Kara to wince and deflate with the obvious inference.

“I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.” Kara said brusquely, though her jaw clenched and her eyes gleamed with held back tears. “It’s… I like that he protects you. That you have someone.”

“Yeah.” Saviour muttered and the room fell into an awkward silence.

Argos barked, thumping his tail loudly to bring them back on track.

“I used the Harun-El on him.” Saviour whispered, bending down to invite Argos into her arms; the white dog didn’t hesitate to zip over to her in the flash of an eye.

“You did what?!” Kara bellowed, prompting Argos to growl at her, reminding the blonde that any threat to Saviour would not be tolerated, especially not in their nests.

“He was dying.” Saviour whispered brokenly. “He was dying and the vet couldn’t do anything and I had just lost Lex... and…” Saviour sobbed, burying her face into Argos’ thick white fur, “and I had… just lost you . He was a puppy… alone and cold and I… I couldn’t lose anything else.”

“Oh, Lena…” Kara soothed, slowly kneeling beside a crying Saviour. “It’s okay, it’s okay.”

Kara met Argos’ protective gaze with a soft, pleading one of her own. It was then, listening to the way Kara’s heart raced with the desperate need to be close to Saviour, the way her words were filled with affection and how her blue eyes shone with love that Argos reassessed the alien.

Argos dipped his head, showing that it was okay for Kara to approach.

Kara didn’t hesitate once given permission, arms reaching out to sweep Saviour up into a hug that reminded Argos of how Saviour had cradled Shoo to her chest all those months ago.

“I’m sorry, Lena. I am so sorry.” Kara murmured into Saviour’s dark hair and Argos could hear the sincerity of her words. “I am so sorry. You never lost me, not for a second. I let you down, I know but I was scared. I was so scared of losing you. I couldn’t- I couldn’t lose you.”

Kara started to cry then, her tears just as fervent and fierce as Saviour’s who, in turn, reached out for Kara - their arms holding each other close as they sought comfort. Argos watched on, nudging Saviour and Kara every now and again to provide his own support.

XXX

“I’ll train him.” Kara announced once their tears had run dry and they had moved from the floor to the sofa.

Saviour and Argos shared a look at that.

“Hey!” Kara squawked, affronted. “I trained Nia and she turned out fine.”

“Are you comparing training Nia to-”

“No!!” Kara refuted, face turning red, “I just meant… that I have experience.”

“Kara…” Saviour began as gently as possible, “Alex told me about Jules-”

“Jules was a goldfish with suicidal tendencies!”

“I’m just saying…” Saviour trailed off.

Kara glared at the two of them, “I can totally train him!”

“Okay, if you say so…” Saviour challenged, arching an intimidating eyebrow at the alien that Argos could hear made Kara’s heart skip a beat.

“I do say so.” Kara declared, picking up the gauntlet without hesitation. “Just you wait and see! We’ll show her, won’t we Argos?”

Argos grinned in response, brown eyes already twinkling with mischief.

XXX

Argos would never admit it but he enjoyed flying with Kara, swooping round buildings and performing barrel rolls. He liked how she laughed so loud, free and full of joy whenever Argos managed to spin around her. He was starting to understand why Saviour had kept Kara around so much when it so obviously caused her pain.

Saviour and Kara’s relationship steadily rebuilt over a number of coffees spent talking about Argos of all things. Saviour shared stories from when he had first settled in their nest and was still learning the rules, sharing photos of his growth that she hadn’t shown to Kara previously. Kara, meanwhile, regaled Saviour with in-depth descriptions of Argos’ power training lessons - bigging up Argos’ exploits and achievements knowing compliments of Argos were a surefire way to win Saviour over. Argos rolled his eyes at the exaggerations but enjoyed the fuss he received from Saviour in response.

The coffees developed into lunches into dinners into sleepovers.

After a mere handful of months it was like Kara had practically moved into their nest whilst Argos could now fly almost as well as Kara’s alter ego and re-warm Saviour’s coffee with his newly developed heat vision for her whenever she got distracted by her glowing box for too long.

Argos’ trust in Kara also grew so much that whenever Saviour was having a bad day - due to a meeting where someone had spat Luthor at her or when Saviour’s mother had called - Argos jumped from the balcony and followed Kara’s unique scent to wherever she was. It didn’t matter if she was at her own (less used) nest or that industrious concrete building marked DEO, he merely grabbed her cape by his teeth and dragged her across the city before depositing her in a heap in front of Saviour, his tail wagging proudly at retrieving just the right thing to cheer her up.

XXX

Argos knew there were people out there that didn’t like Saviour, but they were wrong and their opinion was invalid . Whenever someone was mean or tried to be aggressive with Saviour, Argos made his presence known by stepping slow and deliberate over to Saviour’s side, shoulders hunched forward and head low, ready to bare teeth if his intimidating posture wasn’t sufficient deterrence.

Kara, likewise, puffed up her chest and lifted her chin if she was present, resulting in Argos and Kara performing a wall of protection around Saviour.

Argos knew that people didn’t like Saviour but he’d never seen someone actively try to hurt her.

The day that he did though changed everything and gave Argos a new name.

He was out flying with Kara, zipping between skyscrapers - Saviour was meeting a number of people and had been unable to take Argos for their standard afternoon walk prompting Kara to take him flying instead - when he heard Saviour’s heartbeat shoot up in tempo.

Argos and Kara came to an immediate halt in the air, losing all speed as their ears tuned in beyond Saviour’s heartbeat to her surroundings.

Argos didn’t understand the shouts pervading his daytime nest but he understood the feeling behind them - Shoo had heard that tone often from people who wished to cause harm. Kara and him rocketed through the air, both breaking the rule Kara had instilled in him of not going too fast.

What happened next was a blur of instinct and trained lessons - the instinct to help and protect that Saviour had nurtured in him and the lessons of control and carefulness that Kara had. There were four men: two holding Saviour and two guarding the door - utterly failing to take into consideration the balcony that Argos and Kara burst through in a shower of glass.

Immediately, Kara threw one of the door guards against a wall with a blast of freeze breath whilst Argos kicked the other with his hind legs to land on top of the one Kara had dealt with. Kara and Argos then zoomed over to the last two attackers, their movements seamlessly synchronised after countless hours twirling around each other in the sky and growing to understand each other in Saviour’s nest. Kara restrained one easily whilst Argos zipped between her legs to snap in half the gun the other attacker was raising to use against Saviour. Once disarmed, Kara and Argos hoisted all four between them and flew them to the nearest police station.

It was all over in the space of twenty seconds but it was the longest twenty seconds of Argos’ life - nearly losing the most important person in your life would do that to you.

The moment that Argos and Kara were back in Saviour’s daytime nest, Saviour was wrapping her arms around the two of them. Pressing grateful kisses to Argos’ head and Kara’s cheek on endless repeat.

Argos realised then as he was pressed between the two women that Kara was trembling in much the same way that he was - the fear of harm befalling Saviour had wrecked them in equal parts and it was then that he finally grasped what was going on between Saviour and Kara.

The way that Saviour and Kara’s heart rates would tick up whenever they were together.

The way that Kara’s cheeks would flush pink with every kiss that Saviour gratefully pressed against them.

The way that being apart for too long would make both of them melancholic and lonely.

It was love at its deepest and most profound.

Argos as gently as he could - in much the same way Shoo had one rainy night in an alley - nudged Saviour with his nose. He lifted his head, dodged a kiss, and pressed his nose to Saviour’s cheek encouraging her head to turn further than before so that her lips pressed against Kara’s instead of her flushed cheek.

The second their lips connected, everything went still.

Argos slowly drifted away and settled on his bed to watch what happened next.

Saviour was the first to pull away, green eyes wide with shock, mouth moving up and down nervously.

“I… I’m sorry, Argos-” Saviour began to stammer only for Kara to place a hand on the back of Saviour’s neck, lightly pulling her closer and reconnecting their lips.

Argos watched for a while but they kept their mouths pressed against each other for a long time, only pausing for breathy sighs and whispers of appreciation. Argos stretched out on his bed and settled down for a nap, though not before Kara shot him a wink and mouthed ‘Good Boy’ to him.

XXX

People were calling him ‘Superdog’ on the news following the attempted attack on Saviour.

Argos didn’t like it as much as he did Argos but it seemed to make Kara happy and Argos had quickly learned that anything that made Kara happy also made Saviour happy.

“Do you want to do what Kara does?” Saviour asked him not long after the attack that had seen a significant change in the status quo - Kara was now almost always in the nest and had taken to sleeping in Saviour’s bed.

Argos cocked his head to the side at the question - the large glowing box on the screen showing Kara fighting people that seemed hellbent on hurting her and others.

“Kara stops bad people like the ones that tried to hurt me.” Saviour murmured, running her hands through Argos’ fur trying to calm him down as he stood at attention - eyes fixed on the glowing screen and ears listening to the fight across the city. “You can go help.” Saviour offered.

Argos felt something then on his back, something shifting down from his collar up to his tail. He turned his head to see a long piece of fabric and Saviour securing a new tag to his collar emblazoned with the same symbol that Kara wore.

“I know you’re worried about her. You love her just as much as I do.” Saviour accused, green eyes fond and affectionate as she scratched behind Argos’ ear.

Maybe a little, Argos admitted thinking about how Kara had lifted him up and carried him to her and Saviour’s bed following a loud crack of thunder just last night. How she had coaxed him to sleep with whispered murmurs and scritches behind his ear.

“Go help her, like you’ve helped me.” Saviour requested causing Argos’ heart to swell in his chest. “Go, Superdog, there will be extra doggy treats for you later.” Saviour promised pressing a kiss to his nose before getting up and opening the balcony doors for Argos to soar through.

[squishytenya]

ℙ𝕠𝕝𝕪 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤

↬ Parings: dekusquad x reader poly

↬ Reader: Gender Neutral

↬ Warnings: mentions of arguments towards the end

Honestly it was probably Ochako who got you guys into this relationship

She was already dating Tsuyu, Midoriya and Iida but saw how her partners looked at the couple that was you and Todoroki

It was bought up to you one day after class and you admitted to the brunette that both you and your boyfriend had feelings for them all and boom, with a little bit of meddling all 6 of you guys were in a poly relationship

You guys take it in turns to decide on dates so you end up going to many different places or staying in and doing different things

For example, aquariums (Tsu), cooking dates (Ochako) and cinema trips (Izuku) are common ones

Most dates are full group dates to places like fairs or non-fancy restaurants because most people assume you’re a group of friends and don’t hassle you

God forbid they do give you guys any trouble though cause you have unfortunately chosen 5 very protective partners 

Hecklers have to face your surprisingly terrifying girlfriends or risk being lectured by Iida and Midoriya

Shouto chooses to just freeze their feet, he couldn’t care less about being told off by someone *cough* Iida *cough*

Not that Tenya really minds, he finds it as entertaining as the rest of you, but he doesn’t want any of his partners getting into trouble 

Lowkey he and Tsuyu are the only people stopping you and your dumbass partners getting killed or in trouble

When you try to tie yourself to a rope so Uraraka can make you a human balloon? Iida is there to make sure that its at least inside

When Todoroki tries to see if he can cook a steak on his chest? Tsuyu is there with a fire extinguisher 

Cuddle piles are a must!

Usually, you guys move a couple of mattresses on the floor because you can’t fit on one bed and you steal all of the blankets and pillows to make a sort of den in whoever room you choose to 

All of your s/o’s are in the hero course so they are pretty built which makes for some top tier cuddle sessions

Iida is usually on the bottom or in the middle because he’s the biggest but as you guys all gain muscle mass and height it tends to change around a bit

A lot of the time you are pulled on top of Izuku as a kind of human weighted blanket to calm his anxious muttering but you’re not exactly mad about it

If Todoroki has a particularly hard time with his family he gets to be in the middle with all of you bunched around him in a comfort circle

Tsuyu is put in the same position during the winter because she can’t get too cold

You also lend her any and all hoodies/jumpers and cuddle her at any given point, you do not care who else is in the room cause your girlfriend comes first

She also likes to attach herself to Shouto’s warmer side and he lowkey heats himself up for her

All of you pitch in when Ochako is struggling with money by buying her lunch or necessities etc cause she’s usually too embarrassed to ask for your help

They do the same for you if you’re in a similar situation, your rich kid bfs make sure of that

Most of you have a mini first-aid kit on hand for Izuku as well because he manages to hurt himself without even using his quirk

He always awkwardly laughs about it and tries to brush it off but is secretly so soft that you have a habit of kissing it better

All of you eventually picked up this habit of yours and it was a hoot t explain when he hit his head on the door frame and Shouto walked up to him, placed a kiss on his head, and sat down without his expression changing at all

Izuku, who is never good at handling PDA, went so red that Momo actually asked if he needed to lie down 

In fact, not many of you are very good at handling PDA as you’re all easily flustered and yet you find each other so damn cute that you can’t help it sometimes

One of your weak points is Asui’s little tongue blep, it never fails to make you coo at her and pull her into a small kiss

(Who can blame you i would literally die for her)

Shouto tends to be nonchalant about receiving it but the soft blush gives it away a little, he has no shame when it comes to giving it though

Uraraka gets that cute little round blush but always returns the affection, it’s a rule of hers and she ends up being one of the more affectionate partners

Iida does his arm chop thing but always compliments you in some way or another when any of you show affection to him

(he also is secretly very affectionate in private but don’t tell anyone)

Tsuyu gets a little bashful but the girl is kinda shameless and will fully just pull you onto her lap in front of anyone and everyone 

It does not matter what size you are. You. are, going. On. the. Lap. 

As stated before, Izuku is probably the worst at receiving PDA cause he always goes red as a firetruck, starts stuttering and is literally immobile for a whole minute afterwards

It doesn’t matter if it’s a cheek peck or full-blown making out, you’re gonna get this reaction

Tsu likes to tease him for this though and you end up joining in most of the time

In private though he is a like a koala, always touching one of you in some way or another and he really likes to snuggle his head into one of your necks

Ochako is a spooner and likes to wrap her arm around your waist from behind, Todoroki is also a spooner but he prefers for you to be on your back so he can see your face

Tenya likes it when one of you guys lays on top of him, head on his chest and legs intertwined and Asui just likes to starfish on top of any given one of you

Unless she’s cold and then we get a Shouji situation

You guys are one of the most healthy, mutually supportive relationships going and you only really fight when you’re worried about each other

Every fight is intervened by another s/o before it gets the chance to grow and you guys have some hot chocolate while talking it out

This usually ends in a cuddle pile and an organised date for the next day

They’re all just really soft for you and each other even if they have different ways of showing it

But there is always going to be someone for you to talk to or get affection nd comfort from in this relationship

Even if they are blunt, blushy morons, they’re your morons and you wouldn’t have them any other way

Hope you enjoyed, these were really long! Don’t forget, my requests are always open :)

Remember, reblogs help content creators

[hwascomfort]

fake masterlist ; chapter 20 / chapter 21 / chapter 22

"Felix, put the god damn crop top away"

Felix and his stupid helping. Beomgyu was supposed to be helping you, but he was too preoccupied with trying to raid Felix's closet in hopes of finding a shirt he deemed suitable enough for Taehyun.

And then of course, Wooyoung and Minho had both conveniently decided that calling Hongjoong was more important. Need you forget Yeonjun and Seonghwa, too busy doing their damned hair and brushing their teeth.

"But it matches my clothes!"

"You said I was supposed to match with Taehyun"

You all but snatch the crop top out of his hands and throw it into the corner of your room, now added to the growing pile of shirts and pants that weren't suitable enough.

It takes a mere ten seconds for you to call for Beomgyu.

Said boy comes rushing in with a blank-faced Taehyun.

A Taehyun that is wearing what has got to be one of the best outfits you've seen... or maybe it's the hysteria that comes with being alone with Felix during an outfit issue.

It's such a simple outfit, but damn. Black ripped jeans, an oversized dark gray hoodie, and a pair of sneakers. How could he make it look so stylish. That was the only question.

"You called?"

Beomgyu wraps both his arms around you at that, smooshing his cheek against yours.

"Okay, off. I just wanted help"

Beomgyu obediently pulls away, taking a step back to look at the hoard of clothes on your bed.

"Well, if we're matching you with Taehyun, then a black skirt of some sort and a gray top. I recommend something like a hoodie or a jumper. But then you can go the other route, black low waisted jeans, preferably like cargo pants or something similar, and a gray cropped hoodie. But it's up to you"

Felix is already throwing clothes left and right off your bed, muttering to himself about how you could go the sexy route instead.

You groan to yourself, hearing Wooyoung snickering from the doorway.

"What?"

Wooyoung merely shrugs and turns his phone to you, a bleary eyed and red haired Hongjoong looking at you.

"Hongjoong!"

You pluck the phone from his hands and sit down on your bed, Hongjoong waving with a small smile.

"Y/n, I hear you need clothing advice?"

You nearly jump out of your skin when Beomgyu appears behind you, head on your shoulder.

"It's all sorted"

Hongjoong looks confused at the sight of him, especially so when Taehyun decides to sit next to you and lean in to say hello, earning a surprisingly high pitched scream from Felix, accompanied by a loud cackle from Wooyoung who disappears down the hall.

"I never thought I'd see you three together willingly"

You snort at the comment, leaning back into Beomgyu as you do so, earning yet another confused looking Hongjoong.

"There's a reason for it, but it's pretty dumb, so I'll spare you the details"

"The reason is dumb as hell, but I can't ignore that it's brought a surprisingly cute duo out of it"

You can almost feel the stares going on above your head when Beomgyu says that, and you're not surprised to see Taehyun glaring at him in the screen.

"Right..." Hongjoong's stare is amused despite the tone of voice. "Why did you need help anyway? I think you could give me a run for my money if you wanted to"

Felix snatches the phone out of your hands after throwing two pairs of clothes at you, going on about the dinner.

You lift what you assume is the first outfit and raise a brow.

"It looks pretty good!" Beomgyu chirps from beside you.

The smack you deliver to his head has him dramatically flopping back and whining.

You hear a loud thud from behind you, twisting round to see Taehyun looking off your bed and a glaring Beomgyu rising slowly from the ground.

"Okay, take that outside to Seonghwa please, and Felix, out, I need to get dressed"

Felix sticks his tounge out at you and leaves, Taehyun and Beomgyu following behind and shutting the door.

~

It's honestly quite hard to decide which outfit looks better, both look good, and picturing Taehyun next to you doesn't help at all.

So in your time of need, you take a picture for one outfit while you wear the other, and step out of your room.

You enter the lounge to find all of the boys either sitting down with their phones or, still on the phone, talking to Hongjoong.

"Which looks better?"

Having seven (technically eight given Hongjoong) pairs of eyes snap up and stare at you is rather off putting.

On your phone screen, there's a picture of you wearing the skirt and jumper, plus the bottom of a dress shirt peeking out, and black sneakers.

In person, a pair or black cargo pants (not low rise), a dark gray and black thick stripped, and cropped, sweater, plus a pair of black platform boots.

There's nearly a minute of silence, you're face progressively feeling hotter the longer they stare, before someone speaks.

That someone being the ever angelic Seonghwa.

"They both look good to me, so I guess it's just up to what feels more comfortable to you"

You both at the inside of you cheek, glancing at your phone and then down at your current clothes. Pants would feel much more comfortable...

"I guess I'll be wearing this"

There's a chorus of compliments at that, and you turn around, face burning, before heading back to your room to grab an oversized hoodie, just in case you get cold.

~

You're nearly out the door when Yeonjun grabs your hoodie and flings it somewhere behind him.

"Yeonjun!"

"If you get cold, Taehyun can be the ever convincing boyfriend and give you his hoodie"

Despite his words, you reach out to try and deliver a hit to his shoulder, but before you can, Seonghwa and Taehyun have both wrapped an arm around you and are hauling you out the door.

"No fighting"

taglist:

@enhacolor @soobin-chois @pr0dbeomgyu @papiibuprofen @joti17 @woniewhite @en-boyz

[chubbybuckydumpling]

Christmas Biscuits

words: 2287

warnings: swear words, a tiny bit of angst, mentions of death (this sounds kinda bad, but it’s actually really fluffy)

A/n: this is my first ever fic and I’m really insecure about my writing. Please be kind 🥺💖 (gif is not mine)

Writing challenge by @mypoisonedvine

“This one, daddy, this one!” Bucky chuckles as he looks towards his toddler, who sits on the kitchen isle in front of a box full of  biscuit cutters. The three year old holds up a huge reindeer cutter and smiles toothily at her father.

“Dude, it's way too big. We won't even be able to fit four of those on one baking tray. Why do we even have one this large?” The teenager stands to the left of her sister and looks at Bucky with a questioning gaze. Her hair is lazily put into a low bun and an ugly Christmas jumper adorns her body.

“Eileen, don't call your sister 'dude'”, the teen rolls her eyes and lets out an exasperated sigh, “Whatever” He makes his way towards the toddler and gently takes the reindeer out of her hands, while sending his oldest a warning look. “You heard your sister, baby. Let's choose some smaller ones” he explains and pulls the box towards himself.

His eyes fall on a Mickey Mouse biscuit cutter and a smile takes over his face. He grabs the desired object and places it on the isle, “When your sister was in kindergarten she made this all by herself. We use these every year. They are very special to me”. The little girl holds up the cutter to inspect it and then looks to Bucky. “Special?”, she asks.

He nods and watches as his youngest daughter holds the cutter towards her big sister. “We use this one, yes Isla?” Eileen smiles, accepts the object and places it on the counter next to the dough. She shakes her head lightly and grins at her father, “I can't believe you've kept this all these years”

Bucky shrugs and continues searching the box for appropriate biscuit cutters. “You gifted this to me, of course I kept it. You looked so proud when you brought this home, I'll never forget. Also, I'm pretty sure your father would have beheaded me if I even thought about throwing this away”, he pauses, just for some seconds, “We were probably as proud as you, if not more”. Bucky fetches a star and a smaller reindeer biscuit cutter out of the box and hands them to the toddler.

Eileen hums before turning towards her little sister, “Do you like ones dad chose, Sarah?”. She nods and holds her arms up, silently demanding to be carried. The older girl obliges and puts the toddler on her hip, so that they can add the new cutters to the counter.

Bucky joins his children with another biscuit cutter and the dough in his hands. He places both items down and grabs the rolling pin to flatten out the dough. “I remember how much papa loved baking biscuits. He'd always let me decorate them, even though he was so much better at it”, Eileen says while putting Sarah on the counter and holding her waist, in case she'll fall down. She eyes Bucky hesitantly.

He stops for a moment to collect himself and then forces a smile on his face, “He always loved everything you did. You were his little superstar. There wasn't a thing you could have done wrong. You've always been his pride and joy”. Bucky continues rolling the dough, “He always felt bad about actually eating them. He couldn't bear to destroy your art”

“That's what I've got you for though!”, his oldest giggles and gently pinches Bucky's tummy, which makes him release a high pitched shriek. Sarah begins to laugh loudly at her father's silliness and tries to tickle him as well. The man however grabs her hand and pulls her little body towards his chest. He quickly presses a kiss to her forehead.

“Alright, I think we can start cutting. Sarah, baby, do you want daddy to help you?” The young girl nods and claps her hands in an excited manner, “Please, daddy!” Bucky grins and encourages his youngest daughter to choose a cutter. Eileen quickly fishes for her Mickey Mouse one, a smile upon her lips. Sarah takes her time to think, before she carefully picks out the star shape. “Good choice, bug!”

The family spends some time on cutting and baking multiple batches of biscuits, laughing and smiling. After a couple minutes, Eileen starts to play a Christmas playlist to which they sing to. Time was flying and soon they found themselves ready to decorate their goodies.

Bucky forces Sarah to put on an apron and ties her dirty blond hair back into a ponytail. Eileen mixes different coloured icings and opens some sprinkles and edible glitter. Her father eyes the glitter and sighs, “This is going to end in a mess, right?” The older girl smiles sheepishly and her father accepts his defeat.

“Alright then girls, let's get going”. Eileen takes on the job of delicately dipping the biscuits into the icing while Bucky desperately tries to stop his toddler from pouring a whole bag of sprinkles over one single biscuit. And like anticipated, once Sarah finds the glitter, it's over. There's glitter everywhere. In his hair, in his children's hair, on the counter, the floor and of course, on the baked goods.

Once they finished all the biscuits and stored them, Bucky leans against the counter, utterly exhausted. His eyes drift to the clock. It's already 6 pm and he still needs to cook dinner. Upon seeing his father so tired, Eileen slides next to him and places a hand on his, “How about we order some food? We can even choose something healthy, if you want to” He raises his eyebrows, “Healthy you say?”. She nods and Bucky narrows his eyes, “Who are you and what have you done to my teen?”

His dramatic reaction causes her to snort and shake her head. “Well, do you want me to order something or not?”

———

After devouring some nice Italian cuisine and doing a whole lot of dishes, everyone is laying on the couch, tired, yet satisfied. “I'm glad baking biscuits is an annual occurrence. This shit is way to exhausting”, Eileen yawns out and cuddles up to her father, who lifts up an arm to pull her towards him. Sarah is already fast asleep on his belly.  Bucky gives his oldest a warning nudge for using a swear word, but quickly presses a kiss to her temple afterwards.

“Papa hated when I swore. And he always heard it too! I could have been on the moon for all I care and he would have still known”, she complains with a light smile on her face. Bucky chuckles and begins to play with her hair, “You could always hear him yell 'Language!' whenever someone used a bad word”. He sighs, “Your father was a good man. He only wished for the best for you and your sister”. Eileen remains silent.

“Are we going to visit papa tomorrow?”, she asks after a while. Bucky nods, “I was planning on doing so. Is that okay with you?”. The teenager mumbles a quiet 'yes' and yawns again. “Alright, my love. I think it's time for bed” She grumbles, but uses one of her hands to stroke some hair from her eyes. Sitting up, she yawns again and presses a kiss to her father's cheek, “Good night, dad. I love you”

“I love you too, dear. Sweet dreams”, he calls out to her retreating figure. The shine of the vanilla candles illuminates her form and Bucky can't help the warm feeling in his chest. Eileen grew up to be such a beautiful young woman and he realises again just how proud he is. Proud of her responsibility, her independence and her love for herself. It hasn't always been easy for her and she still pulled through to be her best self, which he can't help but admire.

Before he can get too emotional, Bucky gets up as well, careful to not disrupt his daughter's sleep. He blows out the candles, the smoke filling his nostrils with an overwhelming smell of vanilla. Steve always insisted on buying exactly these candles, for they calmed his mind enough to sketch a little, and really, how could Bucky ever deny his love? Now they are a reminder of him. His scent and laugh, the sound of his pencils scratching his paper, the feel of his lips on Bucky's own.

He shakes his head to rid himself of these thoughts and makes his way up the stairs into Sarah's room. He tucks her into the tiny bed and kisses her forehead, “Good night, baby. Sweet dreams. Daddy loves you”, he whispers.

On the wall across the door is the wall painting Steve made before their youngest daughter was born. He was so excited to meet her and made it his goal to create the most beautiful nursery for her. The underwater scene displays so much of Steve's character, from the way he carefully handled the brush to his determined, strong strokes. Bucky is happy that Sarah has this reminder of her papa, especially because she never had the chance to meet him.

He sneaks out of her room, switching on her night light on his way out. One of his hands rests on his soft belly and squeezes the fat that has collected there. A yawn ripples through him which makes him move to his own bedroom. There, the walls are shining in a light orange which creates an illusion of a  bigger room, or so Steve used to say.

Bucky unzips his jeans and throws them on the growing pile of dirty clothes on the floor. He'll have to do laundry soon. His soft jumper joins his trousers, leaving Bucky in some grey boxer briefs. Too tired to bother putting on pyjamas, Bucky lets himself fall into the king sized bed, which stretches under his weight. He turns to his night stand and reaches for the framed picture that rests upon it. His fingers run over the soft wood of the frame, a small smile on his lips.

“Oh, Steve”, he sighs. Suddenly, his strong exterior is quickly crumbling and Bucky's lips begin to tremble. He takes a deep breath. “I miss you so much”, his voice is shaky from his efforts to hold back the tears. “I wish you were still here: Oh god, Steve”. He begins to cry, sobs echoing off of the walls, tears rolling down his puffy cheeks. The picture slides out of his hands and falls onto the bed. Bucky covers his face and tries to muffle the sounds escaping.

It's been over three years since, but he can''t move on. He can't and he won't, wouldn't dare to. Bucky is exhausted, mentally and physically. He's trying to be strong, for Eileen, for Sarah, for Steve. These children are Steve's biggest treasure and Bucky is going to make sure they are happy and safe. It's what Steve would have wanted and he can't fail him.

He tries to wipe the tears away, but new ones follow immediately. “Fuck Steve, I'm so sorry. I wish I could have done more”, Bucky cries and pulls the framed photo to his chest, curling around it as if he were to protect it, “I wish it would have been me!”. Sobs continue to roll through his body. He tries to breathe through his nose, to be calm and controlled, but the piercing ache in his heart continues to make him cry out. His soft belly shakes with each agonized shudder and every heartbreaking sob.

Once he's finally calmed down, he dries his cheeks and presses his lips to Steve's picture. The cold glass a stark contrast to Bucky's warm lips. Immediately, it begins to fog up under the man's hot breath. His fingers find their wedding rings, which he is wearing on a chain around his neck, and play with them. The metallic sounds when they bump into each other fills the void room and aid Bucky into finally resting. Just before he falls asleep, the words “with you 'till the end of the line” fall from his lips.

———

The next day, the Rogers-Barnes family is bundled up in thick, fluffy coats, scarves and hats to fight against the biting cold. They are cuddled up on a picnic blanket and warm their hands with cups of hot chocolate. Their breath fogs up the icy air and the smell of biscuits is prominent. Bucky looks down to Eileen who is feeding Sarah a reindeer treat. He smiles.

“Do you like your biscuits, baby?”. The toddler nods enthusiastically and offers the rest of her half eaten goodie to her father, a big, toothy grin on her face. He grins mischievously  and eats the whole biscuit in one bite, which makes the younger girl gasps dramatically before bursting out in giggles, “Silly daddy!”

Eileen smirks and joins in, “Yes, silly daddy. He will never lose some pounds this way” Her hand pats his belly after she squeezes his admittedly pudgy cheeks, “but that's what we love you for, right Sarah?” The addressed girl nods, already on her next biscuit. Bucky smiles widely and throws an arm over his oldest and pulls her to his chest, “I know you're just jealous of my dad bod”, his hands stroke over his tummy in an appreciative manner. The teen hums an agreement and cuddles herself closer to her father.

“I guess your hugs have increased in efficiency”. The chubby man grins and kisses both of his daughters' heads. “Your papa loved it too. He'd always give me some nice belly rubs”, he tells her before looking over to the grave they are sitting next to,”isn't that right, Stevie?”

If you liked this or didn’t, please leave some feedback, it would mean the world to me 🥺

Be added to my tag list here :)

[mollymauk-teafleak]

Hurt Prompt:

'You're not dying, it's only a sprained ankle' - widomauk (aka: Molly hurt himself and is now trying to get Caleb to pity him) 💜🧡

I am so sorry this has taken so long! But my lovely gf chose this out of my prompts list for my next little fic so here it is, some modern au widomauk family cuteness!

This fic is also on Ao3 if anyone would like to leave a comment!

---------

Caleb had gotten too used to solving his problems with spells.

He wasn’t very strong so he used a levitation spell to carry his books and papers. His daughter Una wouldn’t sleep so he conjured dancing lights to soothe her and help her forget her nightmares. His son Trinket fell and skinned his knee so Caleb dropped the temperature of his palms and held them to the injury to soothe the pain and still the sniffles. Frumpkin wouldn’t stop scratching the arms of the sofa so a quick prestidigitation made sure Molly would be none the wiser. Caleb was very good at magic, after all.

But it meant that, when he found a problem that wouldn’t bend to any spell, he was a little lost.

At least he could float the mug of tea up the stairs without spilling. It bobbed just above his finger as he made his way up the stairs, deftly dodging toys left scattered by their children and several socks that had escaped the laundry basket, managing to make it unscathed to their bedroom. Frumpkin padded after him, bell on his collar jingling.

“Liebling?” he called softly as he pushed the door back, “I brought you some tea.”

A low groan from the bed was his answer, from the bundle of blankets that had replaced his husband. It shifted, a few crocheted throws sliding down in a wooly avalanche, the curved tops of two horns appearing, followed by a sleepily blinking set of red eyes.

Caleb smiled sympathetically and moved closer into the dim room, only a sliver of afternoon light coming in through the drawn curtains. With his free hand, he summoned a small ball of light and sent it drifting above the bed so he could see better. It was the same cluttered room he’d left an hour or so ago, the same cluttered room they spent every night in. All his books piled in neatly organised stacks that made sense only to him, Molly’s scented candles filling different corners of the room with different smells, scarves draped on nearly every available surface, a closet stopped with equal numbers of thick woolen jumpers and crop tops. Frumpkin sprang onto his usual perch, which was wherever Molly’s favourite cardigan was resting so he could get the maximum number of ginger hairs on it.

“I’m sorry to wake you but the healers said I should check on you every hour,” Caleb set the mug down on the bedside table, perching on the edge of the bed, mindful not to sit on his husband’s tail which was thrashing unhappily, “How are you feeling?”

“Depends,” Molly’s voice was even more raspy than usual, muffled by his blanket horde, “Help me decide which kid gets the high heeled boots in the will and I’m sorted.”

Caleb swallowed his chuckle as best he could, “I don’t expect Una will ever grow big enough to fill them so Trinket will probably get more use. But you’re not dying, Liebling, it’s only a sprained ankle.”

“Only,” Molly scoffed, sitting up straighter, more blankets falling away. He was wearing one of Caleb’s shirts from the university. He'd always preferred to sleep in his husband’s clothes, “You don’t go to the hospital for only anything!”

Caleb smiled sympathetically and moved closer, though he was careful not to jostle the brace wrapped foot that poked out from under the duvet at the bottom of the bed, balanced on a pillow.

“That is true,” he allowed, “Pike did say you were lucky not to break i t.”

“Exactly!” Molly pouted, reaching over for the mug, “And it hurts…”

Caleb patted the tiefling’s uninjured leg, “You can have some more painkillers in forty three minutes. And at least now we have learned a lesson about watching where we’re going on a stage, ja?”

How someone could look so haughty when their injury was entirely their fault, Caleb didn’t know, but Mollymauk managed it.

“Take me through it again?” he chuckled, still rubbing his shin, “Yasha didn’t quite give me all the details.”

In fact, all she’d said when she’d called Caleb to tell him Molly had been carted off to the emergency room mid-rehearsal was that he’d ‘been an idiot’. Not that Caleb would be repeating that.

Molly hunched his shoulders, “Um...we were rehearsing for the show, we’re doing Romeo and Juliet for the summer production. And I was, ah...paying very close attention to Vax’s choreography for the ballroom scene and just wanted to make sure I was getting it absolutely right, exactly as he was telling me to do it over and over and over again…”

Caleb tilted his head knowingly, “You were taking the piss out of him.”

“I...might have been doing an impression,” Molly started to hunch back into his blankets, “Allegedly. You’ll have to question witnesses.”

“Uh huh,” Caleb noncommittally rearranged the covers around Molly’s legs to keep out drafts, “And then?”

“Then. I wasn’t looking where the edge of the stage was and I fell into the orchestra pit.”

So Yasha had got it pretty accurate.

“And now my ankle is all gross and swollen and I can’t walk on it and I’m bored and it hurts!” Molly put more emphasis on that part, throwing his hands out exasperatedly and newly upending his tea.

Caleb smiled in sympathy, moving so he was leaning against the headboard too, stretching his legs out next to his husband’s. Instantly Mollymauk slumped against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

“It’s really shitty,” he mumbled into Caleb’s cable knit sweater.

“I know, Liebling,” he turned his face to kiss the top of Molly’s head, “And I’m sorry I don’t have the spells to fix this, I did look them up but they’re just not my domain and if I got something wrong...but you’ll be feeling better before you know it. And until you do, I’m right here for you.”

“Even if I’m a bit of an idiot? Not that I’m saying this was my fault or anything…”

Caleb grinned, “Come on now, Mollymauk, if I’d cared about you being a bit of an idiot we’d never have had a second date.”

Molly’s tail immediately flicked him on the thigh but he could have sworn his husband was muffling laughter against his shoulder.

Caleb paused, hearing a clatter that was rapidly increasing in volume, a smile growing on his face as the sound of two little feet and four scrabbling sets of claws got louder. He threw an slightly apologetic glance in Molly’s direction, “Sorry, Liebling, I said they had to wait a little and then they could follow-”

He was interrupted by the door bursting back and their children tumbling in, giggling and whispering to each other. Una ran in on all fours, as usual, she hadn’t mastered the wobbly toddler walk the same way her brother had.

“Daddy!” Trinket yelled before clearly remembering Caleb had told him that Molly would appreciate some peace and quiet, dropping down to a still loud stage whisper, “Daddy!”

“Hey there kiddos,” Molly smiled, brightening a little as Una pounced up onto the bed and curled up tightly under his arm, Trinket needing a magical assist from his papa to join them at the foot of the bed, “Sorry if I scared you there, I promise I’m okay.”

“Hurt bad?” Una murmured, staring at his support with wide yellow eyes like two gold coins.

“Well,” Molly ran a gentle hand through her dark hair, smiling demurely, “It’s not exactly comfortable...I’ll be okay, darling.”

“You will!” Trinket beams, bouncing on his knees excitedly, pulling something from behind his back with a flourish that meant he could only be Molly’s son, “Cos we got this!”

The tiefling blinked, eyes widening as he took the card in his hands, bringing it close with the kind of reverence people usually reserved for pieces of priceless art. It was made from a folded piece of paper, that Caleb unfortunately recognised as one of his marking sheets from work, that was already bowing under the weight of all the glitter and glue on it. Somehow it was both simultaneously dripping glue and shedding glitter on the blankets, the adornments surrounding a lovingly drawn portrait of someone very purple, with enormous horns and a tail curled into a heart. One of this figure’s legs was wrapped in a bandage and words were scrawled in a heavy hand around them. We love you daddy!

Molly gave a soft chuckle, closing his eyes a moment so they didn’t look quite so full of tears. He reached out to bring Trinket close to him too, bundling both his children close.

“Thank you, babies,” he murmured, voice a little thick, “That does make me feel so much more okay.”

Caleb watched them fondly before folding them into his arms too, so he could embrace all of his little family at once.

Maybe he had gotten too used to fixing problems with spells, maybe he did struggle when he couldn’t just wave his hands and knit everything back together. But fortunately, he had two experts who were willing to show him how.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 25

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, sexual content (18+)

A/N:  CHILDREN, SHIELD YOUR EYES FOR THIS ONE. For those over 18, i hope you enjoy this chapter xx

NEXT CHAPTER

It was late in the evening. Within the static sound of silence as the soft cricketing coming from outside his window, a roar of laughter broke into the atmosphere of his bedroom. Forcefully closing his eyes and pulling his duvet over his head, Sebastian wished the sounds would subside yet every time the silence over ruled his mind, another round of laughing would break through.

After what felt like an hour of trying to fall back into a deep and sound slumber, Sebastian quit his trying, instead climbing off his bed and walking off his bedroom. It was no oddity to have the house filled with people, in all honesty it was odder for the house to be empty, however, this particular day, everyone seemed to be having a good time between the smell of cigars and the sounds of bottles being opened. He observed the party from the end of the stairs, being mostly ignored by his father’s associates except for one particular woman.

He noticed her eyes drift from the party all to way to him, a warm smile forming on her face. Swiftly, she got away from the table, walking over to where he was standing and crouching over to his height. She dressed no different than the other women in the room, wearing tight yet beautifully tailored clothes with her hair swiftly brushed to the side of her neck allowing for the view of her décolletage where a gold necklace laid comfortably. Unlike the other women, she had a rather inviting smile and the type of eyes that always seemed to smile even when her lips weren’t. 

     - Hi, I’m Robin. What’s your name? - she spoke in a very soft velvety voice which convolved the atmosphere in warm cozy feelings. 

     - Sebastian. 

     - And who is this? - she pointed at the stuffed bunny he was holding by one of its ears. 

    - Oreo. - he coyly said, a bit embarrassed in the presence of the elegant woman.

    - That’s a beautiful name. You have great taste. Is the noise bothering you, Sebastian? - he nodded, face hidden behind the fur of his stuffed bunny. - I’m sure we can do something about that. 

Sebastian never really ended up going through his father’s office’s belongings, mostly getting his staff to pack it all in cardboard boxes which had ended up on the highest shelves that lined the walls of his office. Y/N had gotten to it rather fast and now they were surrounded by several boxes filled with contracts and piles of papers. Most contracts Sebastian had never heard of and was rather interested in reading while Y/N was looking through his contact book. 

He couldn’t help but stare at her and how breathtakingly stunning she looked just while analysing a little black book, with little baby hairs falling in front of her face while she bite onto her lip mindlessly and a hand standing on top of the bird shaped charm on her necklace. 

    - No Robins. - Y/N sighed, the tinge of sadness overwhelming the breathing sound. 

    - I could swear my father knew someone with that name. - his hand came to rest on her thigh, rubbing invisible circles on the fabric of her trousers. - Maybe you ought to question Daniel or his father about it. 

   - I would rather avoid the “you’re not in the mob” discussion. - her cheeks raised up to the bottom of her eyes, a tight lipped smile slowly forming. - I shouldn’t be digging into this. They’re dead, it’s not like they’re gonna suddenly return if I find who they were. 

   - Listen ... - he scotched towards her, back slightly bent so his eyes were at the same height as hers. Yet, the handmaid seemed more interested in looking at the lines in her palm rather than the mob boss. Something in the back of her head screamed at her to let past be past and stop annoying and wasting Sebastian’s time and as such, she couldn’t hold eye contact. - Whoever they are, they can’t stay a secret forever. Nothing stays a secret in this business for long. 

  - What if they’re not dead and they just didn’t want me? - there had always been that option in her mind, mostly due to a comment one of her classmates had made years ago. It was the only plausible explanation as to why both Daniel and Mr. Forrest dismissed her questions about her parents. After all, it wasn’t like a baby is always welcomed and as mere workers maybe they didn’t have the money to raise her. Yet, the woman in the picture seemed to be dressed in rather expensive garments. Maybe the simple answer was that they didn’t want her.

   - Who cares. Who the hell are they not to want you? 

   - Nobody seems to. 

   - I want you. - his finger caressed her jaw, pushing a few strand of hair away from her face. Her gaze lifted from her palms to his face and his clear blue eyes before she found herself leaning towards him, her hand placed on the back of his neck as she kissed him. Y/N pushed him softly towards the carpeted grounds of his office and climbed on top of him, removing her Christmas jumper before throwing it to floor, leaving her in a rather scandalous red lacy bra she had gotten from Gwen as it had not fit her.

She could see in his eyes, dark and blue, her own reflection and that of her nakedness, as well as his thoughts battling each other as he attempted to choose what to do - push her off and help her find more of the stuff she was looking or enjoy the time he still had and make a choice later. It didn't matter. Before he could say or do anything to prevent her, Sebastian was already enchanted by the way she rolled her hips on top of him. 

He groaned at the look of her on top of him and his hands, instinctively, moved up to hold her thighs as to push her further against him. This allowed her to feel his thick member harden further under her, making Y/N moan and groan against his ear as she grinded against it as teasingly and slowly as she possibly could. Driven insane by the pleasure she was giving him, Sebastian grabbed her body, wrapping his large arms around the handmaid’s whole figure, turning and pinning her under his body, worshiping her body in any and every way he knew how.

Gradually, his kisses became wilder and wilder escalating from small pecks and nibbles on her neck to sloppy wet kisses and bites, painting her skin with hickeys that would show up later, and making her gasp and moan at the sensation of his warm lips on her cold body. He traveled further and further down, his tongue gliding skilfully across the valley of her breasts yet it was when he wrapped his hot tongue around her perky buds that Y/N completely lost herself with pleasure.  At that moment, she was grateful there was no one at the penthouse as she was sure every room had a good understanding of what was happening in his office. She moaned as she pushed her hips forward, wanting to create some sort of friction to give some rest to the growing heat in between her legs. He smirked at this, sliding his fingers down to the middle of her legs and rubbing them over her entrance through her leggings, which had also grown wet.

  - Isn’t someone excited ... - he smirked, hands making quick work of her leggings as he pulled them quickly, along with her matching red panties.

She bit her lip with need as Sebastian got rid of his own clothing, taking off his sweatpants and leaving him completely naked which made her mind go various other dirty places as she realised he had been going commando this whole time. Lining up his length, Sebastian pushed inside of her slowly to tease her further. Y/N groaned, tightening her hold on his waist, begging to be taken by him and for once he heard her pleas but gave her no time to adjust to his size as he snapped his hips right into hers before beginning to thrust.

   - S...Sebastian, don't stop. - Y/N pleaded in murmurs, sinking her nail polish free nails into his back which would for sure would leave some red marks as he thrusted faster and harder into her heated core. He had settled for an easy albeit painful slow pace as not to hurt her but once her legs started to wrap around his waist a little bit too tightly he quickly understood what she wanted and moved his hips against hers as fast as a bullet coursing through pure air. 

  - You're still so fucking tight, angel. - he cursed, nuzzling against the crook of her neck and nibbling on the skin he found there which only excited her even more. In all honesty, she would have never pictured herself as one to do it outside the bedroom but here she was. 

The feeling of his lips circling around already bruised hickeys on her neck made her moan loud and clear in his ear, hands moving from his back lightly covered with sweat to his hair which was glued to his skin, running her fingers through it as he kissed and peppered her with kisses, each more sloppier and wetter than the previous ones. The handmaid groaned deeply at the fast pace that grew, both in velocity and intensity. As her whines became harder to control, she found herself near the edge and with just a few more thrusts and she was sure to cum but once Sebastian took notice of this, he slowed down drastically.

   - No ... Sebastian ... - she whined before she was cut off by his teeth nipping at her bottom lip, making her back arch towards his chest and her breasts press up against his chest as tightly as ever, specially since the two of them were in a mess of an embrace with one arm wrapped tightly around her back while the other served as support. She was a newly defiled virgin but she could bet he was probably better at this than the others. - Don’t. 

    - I adore you, little angel but you don’t get to give me orders. - he told her, teasing her as he pushed himself deeper and deeper. This made Y/N groan in reply, throwing her head back into the piles and piles of contracts. - Come on, my angel. Beg for it. 

     - What? - she questioned, a pout forming on her lips as she looked at his almost devil-like eyes. Sebastian found it adorable how confused she looked at now getting her way. 

    - Beg for it. - he stilled his movement completely making her whine. - Go on, little angel. I know you can do it. 

    - I need y...you so, so much. R..Right now, please. - she pleaded.

    - I don't think so, angel. I'm having fun hearing you moan my name. - Sebastian chuckled darkly, running his finger along her jaw.

    - P...Please, Sir. - as soon as the title escaped her mouth, she noticed how his eyes shifted and turned dark with lust. Y/N puckered her lips before raising her feet slightly, pushing him towards her.

With a swift motion, his arm slipped from under her body to her knees, raising them both so he could go deeper than before, making her whole vision turn dark with spots that slowly appeared as he continued faster and harder as he mumbled “you little vixen” under his breathe. His blue eyes, now as dark as stormy sea waters, hovered above her and watched her attentively with a smirk, biting and nibbling on her lips, barely muffling her moans.

   - Sebastian! - she screamed loudly, a writhing mess under him as she finally climaxed, shivering and shuddering against his broad-shoulder figure while he continued to snap his hips back against her own, in a sloppier and messier manner, until he himself came with a loud groan erupting from his chest in the shape of he name. Exhausted, he collapsed right on top of her, turning so that she was laying on top of his chest. - Are you gonna send me off again?

   - No, I think I’ll keep you here this time. - he smiled at her, pecking her lips in a soft, velvety manner. - I promise you we’ll find your parents. 

   - You know you don’t have to do that, right? I know how you have work to do and a reputation to maintain.

   - I like a challenge, angel. 

She rested against his chest, letting all her worries flow away. In this state, there was no Gwen, no mob, no money or status, it was just the both of them, intertwined. Nothing else mattered. However, 30 minutes away from them something did matter. A man all dressed in black, wearing a matching pair of sunglasses met up with another man just a bit outside of the Forrest residence. In his hand, a beige envelope. 

    - I hope you know I’m putting my neck on the line to get you this. - the one in the dark suit secretly and subtly handed the envelope to the other one standing in front of him. - I don’t know what you’re expecting to find in there, Williams. 

   - Trust me, if I’m right, your reward is gonna be bountiful. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​​ @xoxohannahlee​​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​​ @nikkipea​​ @madisonpillstrom​​ @cevans98​​ @thelostallycat​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​ @captainchrisstan​​ @lookiamtrying​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​ @stuffforreferences​​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​​ @nsfwsebbie​​ @strangerliaa​

[tomsoffie]

caught in the act | p.p

Pairing: Peter Parker X Avengers!Reader

Summary: staying out past curfew leads to an unexpected fuck

Warnings: SMUT!!!!, dom!peter, foreplay, clit stim, the works ;)

-

It was late, you weren’t sure but you knew it had easily flown past the tower curfew for young adults. Ever since the Corona Virus had broken out across the world, Tony had made it specifically crystal clear that he wanted yourself and Peter home by 8:30pm or 9:00pm at the very latest. That was your curfew. And this wasn't the first time you had broken it. 

You were meant to be home by around seven, but being a teenager and all, the world likes to bring much more interesting things into the life in front of you as if to distract you from responsibilities, and in your case curfews. Now you were stumbling through the tower in the dark, only wearing a midtown hoodie that came just above your knee, no underwear, not even any shoes to accompany it. 

Prayers were so clearly answered as you managed to make it through the lobby and towards the first floor of stairs without the security lights switching on, before sprinting your way to the second floor. 

You were relatively new to the Avengers team, having been a part of the crew for just over a year, but only having moved in three months ago. Therefore, despite Tony’s accusations, you were staying with Peter for the time being. It worked out, you had known each other since the first year of high school and worked pretty good in the playing field, and not to mention being the same age. 

You expected by now Peter would have been asleep, so you were careful to keep your motions quiet and calculated as your hand landed on the door handle to your shared room. It was then until you stopped, hearing what sounded like a pained grunt come from behind the door frame. Of course it wouldn’t have been rare for Peter to come stumbling in late hours of the night after defending the city, another reason as to why Tony had set you both a curfew, so you subsided to noise and flung open the door, ready for a shower and some sleep. 

What you saw after that was completely unexpected. You were waiting to see Peter sitting on his bed, licking away at his wounds while he winced because he hated the sight of blood. But, what you got instead was the rather rare sight of Peter thrashing around trying to pull the bed sheets over his naked body. The lamp from his desk fell to the ground, knocking over what you presumed was a tub of lube in the process while the obscene sounds of the porn video you now realised he was watching echoed out through the room. 

“Y/N, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Dude, ssh!” you groaned, shutting the door behind you, “you’re gonna get me caught!”

“I thought you were already asleep!” he whisper yelled, slamming his computer shut and throwing it to the end of the bed. 

“Were you touching yourself?” you asked, feeling a little bad for addressing the elephant in the room, but you knew if you didn’t do it now you wouldn’t be able to sleep at night. 

“...No.”

“You totally were though,” you scoffed, walking over to your side of the room and opening your drawer to get some clothes out.

You could feel Peter’s eyes on you from across the room as he shifted uncomfortably. In a way you felt bad, again, for barging in on him, you knew you wouldn’t exactly be happy if he had done the same to you, but it was that or getting caught by Tony. 

“You’re n-not um, w-wearing anything under that, are you?...” 

His voice caught you off guard a little, eyes drifting from the neat pile of clothes in your draw to his dark eyes that stared you down from across the room. 

“No, actually,” you giggled, “don’t go skinny dipping with people who you know will steal your clothes I guess” you shrugged, returning your attention back to picking out an outfit for after your shower. 

“I’m heading in the shower in a second so you can do your thing.” you gestured towards him with your spare hand while the other closed your drawer. 

Peter was still staring at you, hadn’t even blinked since you walked in and you were beginning to wonder whether he was okay or not. You paused in your tracks, tilting your head slightly. 

“You alright there, Parker?” 

“Y-yeah uh... Just wasn’t expecting you to actually n-not be wearing anything” he coughed lightly, shifting uncomfortably in the sheets. You cocked your brow, a striking idea entering your head, although risky, it still seemed fun. 

Dropping your clothes down on the floor, you grabbed the hem of the jumper and swiftly pulled it up and over your head, tossing it down to join the clothes on the floor. 

“Y/N, whoa, what the fuck?!” Peter cursed, covering his eyes with one hand. 

“Drop the act Peter we all know you wanna see what’s underneath” your tone had dropped dramatically in pace and he could feel by the way the atmosphere changed that you were standing inches away from him. He didn’t respond for a moment, so in an act of encouragement you softly placed your hand over his and helped his eyes come back into view. 

Peter was already hard under the cover of the blanket, but seeing you bare chested right in front of him only made him grow to a painstaking extent. He knew you were gorgeous but seeing you like this, this was something else entirely. Your nipples were beautiful, carefully perked from the cool breeze of the open window, breasts full and round. 

Peter didn’t realise he was practically drooling until your hand came up to shut his jaw, “careful, you’ll catch flies” you smirked, before turning and walking off towards the bathroom. Peter couldn’t let you go now, not with the ideas you’d put in his head. 

In a flash you felt your body being jerked backwards, a firm hand on your wrist while the head of anthers skin pressed up against your back. You could feel the raging heat of his cock touching your back, sending icy shivers up your spine. 

“Leaving so soon? After teasing me? I don’t think so, princess” His tone had changed dramatically, deep and rough as his hands slid to your front, dropping between your legs to feel your clit pulse under the pressure of his finger. 

“Fuck, Peter,” you sighed, knees weakening under the feeling of his hands being so dirty in your honour. 

“You like that?” he asked, although rhetorical, only continuing to go with his better judgement. He held you close with the hand against your heat while the other slowly guided you back towards his bed, your knees giving way as they met their end and you collapsed into his lap. 

The pressure caused him to whimper involuntarily, but quickly shifted back to being completely in control as he slid a finger down between your already soaked folds to slide it right inside you, causing you to jolt in his lap.

He had you pinned down against his warm skin, pressed his nose against your ear so you could hear him crystal clear when he said, “God you’re already so wet for me, I wanna hear everything, princess, make those pretty noises for me.” 

“God, fuck- Peter!” you moaned as he invited another finger inside, pumping them deliciously in and out hitting that sacred spot inside you every time. 

“That good baby? Tell me how good it feels, be a good girl.”

“F-feels so good, Peter,” you compromised, your head falling back onto his shoulder. “R-right there,” 

“God you’re so tight around my fingers,” he groaned, spreading his thighs a little so you could get more comfortable. His cock was pressing hard into your lower back causing some discomfort, but you weren’t sure what to do about it in your current situation. 

“P-pete, please,” you gasped, hands landing on his thighs as your back arched against his chest. “want your cock.” 

“You sure you can take it, baby girl?” he chuckled, almost devilishly, pulling his fingers from your heat. 

“Yes, Peter, please.” You nodded frantically, partially in desperation from being ripped away from the beauty that was Peter’s fingers. 

“Because you asked so nicely,” he whispered, lifting you up and placing you down on his bed, spreading your legs out wide for him so he could get a perfect view of your heat. “I might do just that.” 

You whimpered softly, sending the blood right to his dick. Peter couldn’t deny he’d only ever wished and dreamed of seeing you this way, and now those fantasies were about to become a reality. Reaching over, he grabbed the bottle of lube from the floor, dousing a decent amount onto the tip of his cock. You watched, mouth agape as he spread it around, making sure it was everywhere before his eyes met yours. 

“You ready for me? I don’t plan on going easy.” He cocked his brow, gripping his dick with a force and guiding it towards your entrance. You were needy, he could tell, leaning into his touch trying to gain some kind of friction. 

“If you’re gonna be a slut, you’re only gonna have to wait longer,” he teased, drawing his hips away from your core. 

“Promise I’ll be good for you,” you pleaded, eyes wide, hands gripping the underside of your thighs to keep them spread wide for him. He hadn’t asked much of you, and already you were at his mercy. 

“Only because you promised,” he winked, before ramming his cock deep inside of you. He would have taken the time to be patient, making sure it didn’t hurt, but he was so desperate for release he could barely contain himself. 

“Fuck!” you yelped, along side Peter who moaned out, right beside your ear.

“I think that’s the first time I’ve heard you moan... It was like a fucking melody,” you gasped between breaths making Peter smile. 

“Well get ready to hear a whole lot more of those melodies, baby.” 

Peter was doing as he had planned, thought and dreamed and that was showing you the best time he possibly could. Peter knew how to fuck, which was something you were so unaware of. But he was sure showing you the best time in a long time. He didn’t go so hard it hurt, but the way his body reacted to your sounds was like a symphony. He was hitting all the right spots, kissing all the right places and thrusting at such a reckless pace it was almost tender. 

At this point you were using each others bodies to your own personal advantage, so desperate for a release it was almost painful, but you loved it. The way his cock stretched inside of you when he almost hit his high, pressing just right against that sweet spot. He loved the way you clenched him, only edging him to that milking state even quicker. You were so ready to take his load. 

Despite the motions, the sight was heavenly. His expression was so fucked out, hair falling out over his forehead, eyes clenched shut and when they were open they were so blown full of lust and desire, like an animal. At this point your thighs were shaking, muscles torn as he pressed his chest down on top of you, moaning deep into your ear. 

“Fuck! Baby! Y/N, you’re so good!” he’d moan to the beating of his thrusts, earning an equally fucked out sound coming back from yourself. 

“I’m almost there, Peter!” 

“M-me too, baby, almost- fuck!”

“Mmm, Peter! I’m gonna cum!”

“Cum for me sweetness, cum all over this cock, make it yours.” 

The choice of wording that spilled from his lips only spurred you on more, egging your release right until the very end until finally you felt the coil snap, your dignity pouring out all over his length. Peter didn’t fall very far behind, not long after your own high he was spurting his seed into your warmth. It was there you were left a sweaty, panting mess, having just fucked your best friend with absolutely no regrets. 

“You should go skinny dipping with me some time,” Peter plucked up, dragging his weight up and off your chest with a fucked out smile on his perky lips. 

“Took the words right out of my mouth.” 

[dreamyjoons]

Last Light ⥋ 04

⥋ Alone was how you preferred it. People came with feelings, feelings get you killed - and death in the new world wasn’t permanent. But not everything is avoidable, and Kim Taehyung is no exception.

Genre/warnings: zombie apocalypse!au. Angst, just lots of emotions, chatacter/bangtan d*ath! Please note!! blood and injury mention. fluff if you have a magnifying glass and squint real good

Word count: 5.9k

A/N: We back- with a heavy one ooop. This one will have death in it, with our beloved boys. Please take this into account when you read! This is nothing personal, purely for fictional purposes. Series materlist under the readmore. Love you all, i hope you still enjoy!

⥋ Chapter 04: grave

Series Materlist

The lights blind you as the car pulls up the dirt track to where you all stand. You stood still rooted to the spot - but the others around you were in pandemonium. 

Taehyung had begun staggering down the road before breaking into a full sprint, and Jin had almost let his axe drop to the floor. He was uneasy on his feet, looking somewhere being elated and terrified. 

You hover, not knowing if you should be around when they reunited. Should you even stick around? You had met Namjoon before, sure. And Taehyung and Jin seemed to be okay so far. But if there was one thing you had learnt from being in a group before, things are never rosy for long. It might be better for you to not be around. Or at least, you should have your hockey stick on hand. 

You’re only halfway to the tent when you hear the vehicle slam on it’s breaks and shouting begins to fill the air. 

“Jin! Jin we need help!” You hear an unfamiliar voice, laboured and panicked. 

You watch as Jin finally drops his axe and bolts towards the sound of the voice. Taehyung beats him though, a strangled cry leaving him as he rounds the car door. 

“Y/N! Can you come help me take care of the stragglers?” You turn to the sound of your name to see Namjoon jumping out of one of the trucks. He leaves the door open as he moves to dispatch the few undead that followed the noise of the engines. 

You move forward towards Jin’s tent for your hockey stick when he calls your name, pointing at his axe. It was a long axe, with a well worn handle and an end that you’re sure had seen a lot of use. With a shaky hand you take it, meeting the eyes briefly of the man he runs with. 

He was familiar to you. You couldn’t place it, but you had definitely seen that man before. But you couldn't give him too much attention as your eyes are drawn down to what lay in his arms, or more importantly, who. 

A man lay there, and he was in a terrible state. His skin was a sickly pale and palid, with blood splatter across his parted lips. He was limp in the arms that held him, his eyes blinking heavily. 

Taehyung bursts past you, opening Jin’s tent and ushering the men in. You tear your eyes away, the unmistakable groans floating to meet you. You steel yourself and rush to Namjoon’s side, the pain in your ribs reverberating with each step. 

There were five. How they had managed to keep track of the car, you didn’t want to know. With each swing you groan, struggling to focus your attention on the undead in front of you. It takes several goes for you to finally get one to stop moving towards you, your stamina severely depleted. You refused to be deadweight though, dispatching the final staggering body with a choke of pain. Once they were all on the floor, you dropped your arms, letting the axe slip from your grip. 

“Come on.” Namjoon says gently, putting a hand on your shoulder before grabbing the dropped weapon. 

You let him lead you back towards the fire. You cast your eyes toward Jin’s tent, the light inside casting shadows of the figures moving rapidly inside. 

The question of who that was and what happens burns on the tip of your tongue but you keep it to yourself. You stand awkwardly by the fire with Namjoon, listening to the quiet voices from the tent. He shifts constantly, the tension rippling off him in titanic waves as the minutes tick by agonisingly. 

Even if you wanted to escape, your stuff was in Jin’s very busy tent. And you wouldn’t make it on your own out there with how much your ribs hurt. It was foolish, but still an option. You don’t know how well this is gonna turn out. 

Your ears prick up at the sound of the tent zip opening and closing. Namjoon’s head snaps in it’s direction, deflating slightly when he realises it’s not any news. Over to you both staggers the guy you vaguely registered before but still you could not place. 

He was skinny and much shorter than the rest, but he looked the most intimidating. His forehead was pulled into a deep frown, with his hands tucked deep in his hoodie pockets. He was speckled with dark red stains, and you could see the way his hands shake despite how deep he had hidden them.

“How’s Jimin?” Namjoon asks, his voice crackled. The other man merely shakes his head, his eyes fixed on the fire. 

So Jimin was the man that was carried in? You looked over the men, your heart in your throat. 

You knew all too well what they were going through. Watching your group drop away and knowing there’s nothing you could do about it was an agony beyond measure.With the way the world was, you never got to deal with it. There was always someone else to lose, or lose yourself along the way.

The short man hadn’t acknowledged you yet. Not that you were expecting a warm welcome.

You all stand motionless, trapped in the eternal wait. You don’t know how much time passes, but the darkness slowly begins to slip away as the blue hours of the mornings slips in. 

You’re dead on your feet, but nothing can break anyone out of the spell you were stuck under. Your fingertips were like ice, and each breath felt harder than the last. The ticks of the cooling vehicle engines had long since stopped, the trees rustled gently in the breeze, and the quiet hum of constant noise filtered through from the tent. 

“Hobi got… I had to…” Namjoon croaks, his eyes stuck to his feet.

The noise broke through your haze, and you turned to look at him. You searched for words, desperate to heal the wound that you knew nothing could fix. 

“Don’t. It’s not your fault Joon.” The man whispers, the sound barely audible. 

You move and put a hand on his arm, wincing through the pain. He steels himself at your touch, roughly rubbing at his eyes and heaves in a deep breath. 

The other man finally snaps his gaze to you, and you’re caught like a deer in headlights. He watches you, mouth agape. His head tilts, and you know he recognises you somehow too. 

Before he can speak though, the tent zip flies open again. 

“Joon, Yoongi.” Jin calls, his voice flat. 

The men pass a silent look to each other before walking to Jin’s tent. You hover, eyes drifting back to the remaining few embers of the fire as you hold your breath. 

It’s so quiet. The wind had dropped off and nature had long since stopped thriving in the new world. Sounds drew the dead, even the animals had learnt the hard way. 

And the silence meant the words from the group reached your ears. 

“Jimin, I’m so sorry. If we didn’t lose Jungkook you would never have been bitten.” You hear Namjoon choke, and you feel the hair on your neck stand up. 

Bitten?

You can’t hear his quiet reply, the sound lost to the confines of the tent. 

“Jimin? Jimin! Please!” You hear Taehyung wail, and your heart shatters. 

The sounds of grief from all of them grow louder, and it threatens to consume you. Your own family, your old group, your past. It was too much. You had to not think about it. You had to move, to feel something else, to not let the grief hold you by the throat and choke you.

You power back to where the walkers lay, and start prodding them with your boot to make sure none would suddenly jump at you. Content with the lack of response, you grab hold of one by the ankles and drag it to a barren outcrop in the grass just off the road. Once the body is in the middle of the patch you drop your hold on it and move back for the others. 

The throb in your ribs was something you relished. Something for you to latch on to so you didn’t have to think or feel. 

At least it was getting lighter. The sun has started to rise between the trees, the blue of the morning fading into something lighter. Maybe it was around 6AM? You couldn’t tell any more. 

You have the second one by the ankles when you hear the tent open. You snap your gaze over to see Taehyung standing with his head tilted back at the sky. 

His hair was completely dishevelled, his dark jumper marred by even darker stains that seemed to drip red down his arms. His skin was ghostly, and you could see the track marks down his cheeks even at this distance. 

It’s only when his eyes snap to you do you realise that you’re staring. You bite your lip hard and return to your task, tugging harder than necessary. The sudden jerk is too much, and the pain brings tears to your eyes. 

You don’t bother stopping it. 

Instead you keep dragging the body until it sits roughly on top of the other one. Not until then do you look up at Taehyung. 

He turns before you can meet his eyes, storming his way past the tents and through the field until he’s through the treeline. 

A pop echoes from the tent, the unmistakable sound of a muffled gunshot. It’s like a punch to the gut.

You push it out and move towards the next body. You work numbly, one step at a time. And the next, and then the next. It’s not until you go back for the last ones do you stop. Namjoon has the last two by the ankle, dragging them to where you had piled the others. 

All you can do is watch. Once he’s piled them, he walks and gets hold of the gas can that sits in the bed of one of the trucks, throwing a small amount on the bodies and getting a matchbox from beside the fire. 

He strikes the match and throws it, waiting for the pile to start burning before turning away. With your eyes on his back, you heave out a heavy sigh. The feeling of helplessness was as sharp as the burn in your side.

With your heart thumping in your chest you turn back to the blaze, tugging your collar up over your nose to ward off the smell. It’s not until the bodies are just a pile of ashes that you finally bring your eyes away. 

You kick some of the dirt in the area at the flames until it finally putters out. The sun was in the sky at this point, the warmth hitting your skin in a way that it felt you hadn't been touched in a long time. It was soft, only mid-morning. 

“Y/N, can I have your help please?” 

You turn to see Jin, his tee crumpled and bloody. He looked bone tired, no doubt working through the night to try and help Jimin somehow. But they can never be saved, that was a fact of the world now. 

With a nod, you kick the last of the dirt and make your way back up the hill to him. He looks even worse the closer you get to him. 

“We need to… bury Jimin.”

“I’m so sorry, Jin.” 

“He’s just… he’s the first. We’d been together since the beginning. All of us. But with Hoseok dead and probably j=Jungkook too, I just…” He trails, his eyes closed and his chin wobbling. 

“What can I do to help?” You offer softly. 

“Keep watch whilst we dig. We all wanna do it so we can get it done quick, and Tae…”

“You don’t have to explain. Of course.” 

He nods and turns, motioning for you to follow. He hands you his axe once more, and gestures once again as he walks away. You follow for a few minutes until you reach a grassy area on a small hill under a willow tree. It was old, reaching high and wide, with just enough clearance under it’s hanging branches for you to walk beneath. 

You can see Namjoon and Yoongi already digging a spot, the grave already shin deep. Jin jumps into the shallow hole with his friends and begins to dig using what looked like a pot lid. It looked like only Namjoon had an actual shovel. Yoongi had a stick that he was breaking the ground with, and would then scoop out the dirt with his hands. It was too much, the rawness of it too hard to bear.

Remembering that Jin once said this was an old camping ground, you begin to scan the area. If this was any decent kind of place, there’d be a small maintenance shed or office. They must have tools somewhere.

“I’ll be right back.” You mumble, taking off before anyone could reply. 

You jog back up to where the tents are, scanning the area until you see it - tucked inside the treeline, looking more like it was part of nature than man made. 

Jogging towards it, you kick at the door, waiting to see if anything stirred inside. When nothing answered, you got hold of the latch and lifted. It took some wiggling and a good shoulder barge, but finally the door swings open. 

You’re met by mostly rust. It seemed to cover everything inside. Dust, too. Idling between rusty lawn mowers and broken sprinkler heads, you finally spot what you were looking for. 

Sitting on the wall was another shovel, and a small gardening trowel just below. It’s better than a pot lid or stick, at least. You pull them down gently, unsure of how sturdy the wall they sit on is. You tuck the trowel in your pocket and grip the shovel with your axe. Making sure you shut the door behind you - and making a mental note to raid it properly in future - you hurry back over the men.

“Here.”

You stop in front of them and drop the shovel, as well as fishing out and dropping the trowel too. 

“Y/N… Thank you.” Jin whispers, watery eyes meeting yours. 

You can’t find words to reply, so you settle for a stiff nod and move to being a look out. You hear the clang of tools but you leave them to it, settling to scan the treeline instead. 

It felt too personal to stand there and watch them. In fact, it all felt too personal. You were intruding on a moment that they all had to share. Maybe you should strike out on your own, give them their space. You didn’t want to get caught up in a group again, anyway. 

You mentally began running through everything you knew about the area- which really, was nothing. Maybe you could get a map off one of them before you went anywhere? At least a look to get an idea. Or maybe you could find somewhere to hole up for a few weeks until you’re better, or at least able to swing your arm without wanting to collapse in pain. It was doable. Very lonely, but that was something you’d grown accustomed to now. 

“Okay, that should be enough.” 

You look back over your shoulder and see Namjoon hoisted out of the grave before he turns and holds out a hand for yoongi. He gets a leg up from the bottom, and once out he and Namjoon turn to offer Jin a hand, lifting him from the pit. That choked you, the existence they had wordlessly carved out together.

“We just need to get him now. And Tae, he should be here for this…” Namjoon sighs, eyes glued to the pit.

“I can get Taehyung.” You offer, though you really don’t want to. 

He’s grieving, you know that. But the man doesn’t like you at the best of times. You have no idea how he’ll react to you, if you’re even able to find him. 

“Thank you.” Yoongi mumbles.

You don’t wait any longer, moving towards the area of trees that you saw Taehyung disappear through hours ago. You twist the axe in your hands as you break through the treeline, high alert rippling through your body. 

After only a small amount of walking did you find what Namjoon had set up in the name of defence. Strings, sitting at only about knee height, running around the perimeter of the camping grounds. These are what must be attached to the tins at the top of the camp, with different roped strings for different sections. It was so simple, yet still impressive. 

With a careful step up you're over the string and back on your way to finding Taehyung. 

The sun was way above you in the sky. It had felt like it had been a week’s worth of days, not just a couple hours. All you ever seemed to do was move on from one tragedy to the next in this new world. You stopped in your tracks, realising you had no idea where you were going. 

Where could he be? There seemed to be miles and miles of forest. He could be anywhere by now. 

You take a deep breath, close your eyes and strain your hearing for any indication of where he could be. It was hard to pick up any noise over the rustle of the forest. But after a while, a few sounds eked in. The rustle of a small animal foraging somewhere to your right, the faint whine of the leaves as they’re jostled in the wind. And more increasingly, the sound of something splintering and breaking. 

With no other leads to find Taehyung, you follow the sound. You grip the axe tighter in your hands, not willing to face the consequences if you’re wrong. 

Another loud bang greets you as you draw near, making you falter in your steps. Perching behind a tree, you peer at the source of the sound- only to have relief flood you when you realise it was Taehyung. You were infinitely grateful he hadn’t wandered far in the hours he’d been away. 

He had been busy though. Splintered trees and branches cover the forest floor, with big chunks of bark hacked out of the trees that still stood around him. He somehow looked worse than the cargaget that surrounded him. 

The jumper he wore was dry, the bloodstains thick across his stomach and chest. The blood that had trickled onto his hands from the clothing had long since dried, red patches surrounding the raw patches of his skin. His hair had a mind of its own, flyaway and messy where he’s been roughly scraping away from his face. Streaks of dirt and mud cover his skin, but his cheeks were clean from the tears that had long since dried. 

You take a deep breath. And then another. Then you stand, letting the axe sit a little more loosely in your hands. 

“Taehyung?” No response.

“Tae?” 

He turns to you but it’s slow, a tightness forming in his shoulders. The look on his face is almost bored as he looks at you quickly, eyes lingering on Jin’s axe in your hand. You steel yourself, your heart beating irregularly as he sizes you up. Maybe the nickname wasn't something for you to use. 

“What are you doing here?” He snaps. 

“They sent me. It’s time to bury him.” you try to keep your voice even, ignoring the barb in his words. 

“What are you, the messenger?”

You don’t reply. That seems to rile him up more. 

“I suppose you helped dig my friend’s grave too, right? You’re a regular member of the group now. Maybe you can even replace Jimin!”

“I’m not here to replace anyone. I just came to tell you what your friends said.” 

“This has gotta be nice though, right? A nice group to settle yourself in after your lonely existence.” He laughs bitterly, dragging his eyes away to look at his shaking hands. 

You bite your lip. You were not gonna rise to it. He’s hurting, you know he is. He wants the fight, he wants to forget the pain and feel something else overtake him. But you weren’t going to be that punching bag. No matter how much he needed it.

“Sure. Just don’t be too long.” The words are as soft as you can make them. 

The division inside you rages. You want to call him out - it’s not your fault this has happened, no matter how much he wants to find someone to put the blame on. But you know he’s hurting, and those words are not his own. He may not like you, but he still saved your life. That has to count for something. 

You turn away, your heart heavy in your chest when you hear a sudden thud behind you. Turning, you see Taehyung on his knees, jumper pulled off as he stares at the bloody clothing in his hands. His shirt he wore underneath had stained too, the cream colour marked with an ugly patch of claret. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” His voice is thick, emotion in every syllable. 

“So am I.” You turn back to face him.

You move to crouch beside him, ignoring the throb in your side. His fingers scrunch the material, as if letting go would mean death. 

“Jimin gave this to me.” His voice is so low you barely hear him, the bite from his voice completely gone. 

“He’s not gonna live on through a jumper, Taehyung.” 

“But I have nothing left of him.” 

His words stew in the air for only a few seconds before he breaks. He tucks his face into the clothing as sobs wracked his body, and all you can do is watch. You put a cautious hand on his back, rubbing smoothing circled into the material of his shirt with your thumb. 

You let him be. He needed to let it out or he’d be choked forever. Your thumb remained in constant motion, and you made sure to keep checking the surrounding areas. There were going to be no more casualties, not if you can help it. 

Slowly his sobs roll out to scratchy heaves, and he rubs at his face with his forearm. He looked like he could sleep for a decade, and god knows he needed it. You take a breath and clear your throat.

“Let's get back. I know some ways that can save your jumper.” 

Without hesitation you grab hold of his hand, gently pulling him to his feet. The blood that marred his skin didn’t phase you, you just had to get him back for all their sakes He follows your lead, letting his fingers link with yours. You follow back the way you came, pace slow as he trails behind you, jumper clutched to his chest. 

Relief flushes through you as you find the string, being careful to step over it and making sure Taehyung does the same. 

Once you’re through the treeline you steer him towards the willow. His fingers flex against yours, and you’re hyper aware of the warmth of his large hand. When the boys are finally in sight you panic, and let go of his hand. 

“Almost there.” you say awkwardly.

He doesn’t reply, but you feel him take your hand again. Your step falters slightly, a strange stirring in your chest blocking out everything else. He keeps walking though, making you the one he’s getting pulled along. 

Namjoon Jin and Yoongi watch you both approach, each looking between you before turning back. 

You see Taehyung stiffen as you both draw closer, so you give his hand a slight squeeze to show that you’re still there for him. Once you’re standing alongside the others, the view down into the grave is all you can see.

At the bottom sits a body shrouded in a black tarp. He looks so tiny down there. You didn’t have to know him to feel the weight of that. 

“There are… no words for this. Nothing that will ever, ever make this right. And I know… I know I’m part to blame for this-”

“Namjoon-” Yoongi starts, but Namjoon barrels on.

“But I promise you here Jimin - and Hoseok, and Jungkook - that I will make sure that never happens again. We were friends, but we will remain a family. Goodbye.” 

“You brightened everything you did. Teasing me, or singing something I thought I'd long forgotten. I’ll never forget you.” Yoongi nods solemnly, his voice a low gravel as his eyes sit on the mound of dirt behind the grave. 

Jin doesn’t speak, his bottom lip caught between his cheeks as he brushes at his eyes with his fingertips.

Taehyung moves to talk, but his words fail him. He draws in a sharp breath, and squeezes your hand tight before he speaks. 

“I… thank you, Jimin. I’ve had a life full of light with you. You will always be with me, and we will survive for you.” His voice is barely audible by the end of his sentence, though you know there are volumes more he wants to say. Maybe you should ask about them all later. Keep these men alive in memories. 

You move your free hand to clasp his hand that holds yours. A juddered breath ripples from his chest, reminding you to breathe too. 

Namjoon moves to the shovel, slowly beginning to push the dirt back into his grave. You watch for a moment, his bloodshot eyes never leaving the tip of the tool. 

Taehyung slips from your grip and steps to the edge. He folds the jumper up carefully, before holding it out and letting it drop down to where Jimin lay. His shoulders shake as he looks down, and you watch on helplessly. 

You wanted to reach out, to tell him he would be okay. But how could you? You didn’t know how it ever would be.

Instead you stepped back, moving your eyes off his figure and dropping by the pile of dirt. Carefully you begin pushing some of the mound back into the grave, careful not to put your body through any more excessive strain. But you hurt nonetheless. 

It didn’t take long when Jin picked up another shovel. The silence was deafening, the soft scrape of the shovel against the gritty soil, and the soft pads of it hitting the tarp below the only sounds. You worked and worked until there was nothing left to move over, just a mound of freshly turned earth and what lay below.

You cast your eyes around the men, helplessness clawing its way through your chest. 

Maybe you should stick around a little longer. 

You watched as Jin and Namjoon bumped into each other as they moved back up to the camp, barely acknowledging the impact. Yoongi had slunk away, long disappearing into his tent. Taehyung stood under the branches of the willow tree, his eyes fixed on the knots in the bark. 

It wouldn’t hurt to help keep them afloat. Just until they can tread water on their own. The resolution took a weight off your shoulders, though you didn’t want to unpack that thought right now.

The rest of the evening is spent helping out where you can. Your body hurt, but you refused to be of no help. You gathered firewood, helped a lifeless Jin prepare food, and silently checked on them as often as you could. Taehyung drifted. He’d sit staring into the flames, and then he’d be suddenly on his feet, listlessly moving down towards the willow again. 

There were no words you could offer, nothing you could do to make it right. You just had to help fill in the spaces where the parts of them couldn’t reach. Keep an eye on the horizons, an eye on the fire, an eye on them. 

Finally you manage to get them into their tents, telling them to get as much sleep as they can. You know they’ll spend hours laying awake, replaying every second together over in their head, a pressure on their chests so heavy it’s suffocating. 

Jin tells you to take his tent once more after giving you some more painkillers. You swallow them gratefully, not bothering to find some water. He was going to stay with Namjoon for the night. They both needed the company, to know the other was still there. Yoongi had been asleep all day, and had got up to keep a silent watch for the night. Taehyung stood at the door of his tent fiddling with the zip, and with nothing else to say, you finally step inside your own private space. 

You unroll your sleeping bag and spread it out on the floor of Jin’s tent. You make a mental note to see about getting your own tent. If you were gonna stay, you needed to give Jin his back. And if you didn’t stay… well, you’d have a tent for the road. 

You kick off your boots and crawl inside the padding, the night air cold against your skin.

Sleep evaded you, leaving you with nothing but your own thoughts to stew on. Specifically Taehyung, but generally everything else too. There was so much, it felt like anything else would lead you to implosion. How can you see this world through when everything in it causes you so much harm?

The words Taehyung had used against you floated around in your head. Maybe there was some truth to it. Were you trying to get in with this group, and purely for selfish reasons? The last few months had been a bitter sort of agony, one you learnt to stringently ignore every waking moment of the day. Alone was how you preferred it. There was less to worry about: noise, people, supplies. But it was painful. And with physical pain thrown into the mix, almost unimaginable. 

And you wouldn’t even delve into the way he held your hand. It had been… so long since you had been touched like that. Starved of it. And despite the way he had treated you in the past, you couldn’t help but feel safe with him? It perplexed you. Those kinds of feeling were not going to be of any help in this world. Write it off and move on, it’s what you had to do. 

Your incredibly loud thoughts were punctured by the sound of the tent zipper sliding up. Fear crashed around you as you sat upright, grabbing hold of your hockey stick and brandishing it.The seconds tick by as the teeth of the zip click, and you realise how trapped you were. You didn’t hear any of the cans rattling, had something still gotten through?

Through the gap steps Taehyung, and the air feels like it’s forced out of your lungs as you lower your hands. You collapse back on the floor, your heart thudding in your throat. 

“Taehyung?” You murmur once you get your voice back. 

“Why have you got your hockey stick?”

You could’ve been undead. Or a looter!” You sit back up, forehead creased as you look at him. 

He stands just inside the tent with something behind his back, and he was chewing on his thumbnail. Was that a nervous tick? Why would he be nervous?

“How were you going to beat me when you’re still fully in your sleeping bag?”

“I… look, what do you need? I don’t know where any of Jin’s things are, if that’s what you’re after.”

“Oh, uh, no- i… iwaswonderingificouldsleephere.” The words are so hushed you barely comprehend what he was saying. 

“What?” 

“I.. uh. I was wondering if I could sleep in here with you. Tonight.” His cheeks are a dark red as he asks, his tired eyes glued to the hockey stick in your hands. 

“Okay.” The words are out of your mouth before you can even consider what you’re agreeing to, but Taehyung plows on regardless. 

“I get if you don’t want me to! I just feel safe, I guess- wait, what did you say?” 

“You can stay here.” You say simply, but he stares at you like you just asked him to tell you the meaning of life. Silence stretches and you shift awkwardly until he finally speaks. 

“Why?”

“... because you asked to?”

“No, I mean, why did you agree?” His voice cracks as he asks, and you ponder his words for a minute. Why did you? But when you think about it, it comes back around to one factor that seems to be plaguing your life lately. 

“It sucks being alone. Especially at times like this.” 

“Thank you, Y/N.” His voice is low, his eyes bright with burning intensity as he meets your gaze.

You say nothing, simply shuffling closer to the edge of the tent. Laying the hockey stick back at your side, you lay back down in your sleeping bag and cuddle up in the little warmth it offered. Taehyung finally moves, zipping up the tent once more and bringing out his sleeping bag from behind his back. 

Hiding your smile under the puff of your sleeping bag, you settle on your side, facing the tent wall. You hear him rustle behind you, and the puff of breeze as he flicks out his bed. 

You hear him settle in down, and finally the world around you sounds deathly quiet once more. But you hear him breathe, steady and deep. 

It was reassuring, something constant for you to focus on. Slowly he seemed to grow restless though, and it isn't until he tosses and turns for the millionth time you roll over and look at him.

You could barely make him out in the darkness, the moonlight hitting the outside of the tent just barely illuminating his silhouette. It was a staggering sight, and you had to focus your attention on his face to stop your mind from fixating. 

“About today…”

Oh. That.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“No, no. I was nasty, but you were still kind. I’m sorry, I didn't mean what I said.”

“Thank you.” You whisper, your blood thrashing in your veins as you study his profile.

“So… goodnight.”

“Night Taehyung.” 

“Tae’s okay, you know.” His voice was so quiet, a whisper you could barely hear. It made your stomach knot.

You were finally grateful for the darkness so that he didn’t see the way that affected you. You take a soft breath and exhale as smoothly as you can before smiling, even if he can’t see it. This felt like progress, a light in the middle of an endless night. 

“Okay, Tae. Sleep well.” 

You hear him sigh deeply, the air around you stilling. Your mind blanks a little as you turn back around, your eyes blearily focused on the tent wall. It was freeing, almost. The thoughts that were plaguing you had frozen replaced with the awareness of him. His breathing evened out, their depth telling you he had fallen asleep almost instantly. You were unsurprised, he’d had one of the worst days imaginable.

Sleep pulled at you quickly, the air prickling with cold but a prevailing sense of safety trickled over you. Soon the world disappeared, a dreamless night ahead of you. 

Warmth roused you near the morning, the heat of it pressed tightly against your back. But in your tired state, you merely shuffled closer to it and drifted off, paying no thought about where it could be coming from. You simply allowed the warmth to pull you back into a blank slumber once more. 

[sxvxrxssnape]

Snolidays/Snapemas Day 3+4

Gift Shopping & Ornaments & Smile & Snow // pre-PS/the years between. Minerva and Severus friendship aka Minerva McGonagall’s personal mission to make Severus love Christmas part 3 aka min and sev’s shopping adventures: diagon alley edition ft. emotional disaster sev 

“Don’t forget, final essays are due next week!” Severus reminded his classroom of sixth year students as they cleaned up their work tables. “You’ve had three weeks to write them and I expect them all to be turned in.” He attempted to glare at the class, but no one paid him any mind.

Students exited his classroom in small groups of two and three, huddled together and laughing over meaningless jokes and plans for the afternoon. 

“Hold up, this classroom is still a mess! You’re NEWT students, for Merlin’s sake, you should know better than to leave things like this!” He tried to call them back, but he was speaking to an empty classroom.

He sighed. 

Being a professor at twenty-five was a fucking joke when no one took him seriously enough to respect him as an authority figure. It happened primarily with the older students, but even some of the other professors treated him as if he were still a student. Minerva seemed to be the only one who really saw him as a colleague and even she had her moments. 

What was he supposed to do? Practice making scary faces in the mirror until he perfected the disappointed eyebrow raise and scowl? Assign more detentions? He’d thought dressing the part would make him look more authoritative, but now he wondered if he simply looked like a child playing dress-up when he walked around in the stupid teaching robes Narcissa Malfoy had helped him purchase.

Another sigh, but this one was shaky. 

He surveyed the room and got to work, shutting drawers and cabinet doors. He double-checked the supply closet before locking it and levitated the abandoned cauldrons to the wash basin with the others, where they would wait for whichever unfortunate student had managed to get a detention from him that day. Idly, he wondered if he should ask Argus to monitor the night’s detention or if they would return in time.

He shook his head; he was running late. 

Locking his classroom, he hurried into his office and shrugged out of his ridiculous teaching robes. They were nice and he loved the black stitch detailing, but he felt out of place when he wore them. He felt like, well, like a swot. He had other robes as well, namely faded grey work robes that he wore when he brewed potions for the infirmary, but they didn’t make him feel powerful or deserving of respect. These did, at least, so pretentious purple teaching robes it was. 

He hung them up and took in the small room that had become his safe haven between classes over the years. It was a bit off a mess, but aside from his personal quarters, this was the only other place in the castle that really belonged to him. It was his space, from the still-steaming teacup of darjeeling - courtesy of a modified warming charm - waiting on his desk to the old copies of The Potioneer’s Journal stacked on the floor. There were four different books on his desk, two splayed out, hidden underneath a pile of assignments that still needed to be graded and about two dozen more scattered throughout the stone room. 

He considered tidying up a little before he left, maybe watering his rather sad looking peppermint plant and organizing the scrolls of parchment.  The mantle and bookshelf looked as if it needed a good dusting as well. This office was an extension of himself, was it not? 

Minerva was waiting for him, he reminded himself.

But what if a student came calling, hoping for assistance? For Merlin’s sake, he was the head of Slytherin (and how the bloody hell that happened, he still had no idea), he couldn’t just leave and traipse around the wizarding world as if he had no other responsibilities! What if something happened to one of his snakes and they needed him? He had a job! What part of in loco parentis was he not - 

He was stalling.

He was absolutely stalling. 

(And it had nothing with his position and everything to do with going to Diagon Alley). 

He forced himself to take a deep breath. His Slytherins would be fine and even if something happened, they still wouldn’t come to him for help because he still looked like a seventh year - and a socially uncomfortable, paranoia-fueled mess of one, at that. Merlin give him strength if the day ever came where he actually needed to take charge. 

At least he hadn’t stuttered anymore after his very first class. That had been a right disaster and he hated that the second years who got to experience that moment would still be attending Hogwarts for another bloody year. 

It took a few more deep breaths before he could convince himself to leave. He glanced down, decided that the black trousers and black jumper he’d pulled on from the pile of clothing that resided on his bedroom floor were clean enough for public wear, and grabbed his scarf. It was hand knitted and pale blue and alright a little wonky, but one of his snakes had given it to him and maybe he was a little sentimental over the physical proof that some of them liked him. 

He summoned his winter cloak (and he had to rummage around his desk for the silver cloak pin he might have used to stab through a particularly abysmal homework assignment) and the dragonhide satchel he knew some of the students found him hilarious for carrying around, but what was he supposed to use? His robe pockets? Then it would be obvious he was casting unsanctioned extension charms on his things. 

Definitely running late now, he headed upstairs and ran into Minerva on the stairs, who’d clearly been en route to retrieve him. 

“Well, it’s about time.” she huffed. “I wouldn’t be surprised if it was dark out already.” The words didn’t match her tone - gentle, and maybe a little concerned - and it turned his anxiety brittle. He didn’t need to be coddled. 

“I was talking to a student.” he lied smoothly, adjusting his cloak so it felt more secure - made him feel more secure - and opened the front door. 

“How was your class?”she asked mildly, as they stepped over the remnants of dirty, half-melted snow and made their way to the wrought iron gate. 

He scowled and stared up at the sky, noting how overcast it was. “Frustrating.” he admitted, because Minerva was the only person he would ever admit that to. “It’s hard to believe they’re sixth years, for all they pay attention and listen to me.” 

“They’re probably just excited for the coming break.” 

“The first years are excited for the break and they behave far better than my NEWT students.” Severus’ scowl deepened. “I hate their class.”

“Just their class?” Minerva asked, glancing at him with a raised eyebrow. 

He took a moment to contemplate that. “No, but theirs especially.” he decided. “The fourth years and under take me seriously, but the others - I’ve got seventh year Slytherins who will go to you before they come to me!”

“So the ones who’ve only known you to be their professor?”

Severus stopped. “You have a point.”

“Look at it this way,” Minerva smirked, “just three more years and they’ll all take you seriously. Besides, you are young. I’m sure you still have a little more growing to do, dear.”

“Don’t make me hex you.”

“You’ll lose.” Minerva replied simply. 

They apparated directly into Diagon Alley once they cleared the wards, appearing in the courtyard between Gringotts and The Leaky Cauldron. Daylight was beginning to dim, the late afternoon sky fading languidly into the cool tones of winter’s night, and the shopping district was quiet. 

There were only a handful of wizards walking about, making their way between the brightly colored shops and market stalls. The Alley had prepared for the holidays as well, with their decorated storefronts and the oversized Christmas tree standing tall in the center of the plaza, adorned with hundreds of ornaments and a dizzying amount of silver tinsel. There was no snow on this side of the United Kingdom though, and against the bare, wet cobblestone streets, Diagon Alley didn’t look like rows of icing-coated gingerbread houses. 

“Let’s get this over with, then.”

Minerva was watching him carefully and he offered a smile that felt more like a grimace. He didn’t hate shopping for others, but that rebellious part of him was - once again - determined to complain and make a scene. He hated that part of him, felt like he was pushing away the only person who made an effort to see him as a person and not, well, everything else he was. Traumatized child, former student, former Death Eater, child professor, take your bloody pick. 

He tried for genuine excitement, for her sake.

Their first stop was a nearby coffee stall and once again, they purchased paper cups of hot coffee with peppermint and chocolate sauce. His mood brightened when he noticed these came with whipped cream and chocolate curls. They spent nearly an hour browsing through the nearby shops and market stalls before he finally relaxed enough to stop looking over his shoulder - there was no one around but very few harried shoppers and the occasional bellringer.

They were inside of Wiseacre’s, fiddling with the selection of crystal balls and reading their futures, when Severus laughed - genuinely laughed - for the first time since they had arrived in London. 

Minerva cracked a grin at that before she schooled her face into something more severe. “Don’t laugh!” she admonished, rubbing her hands over the glass sphere. “I’m only telling you what it said: you will get everything you’ve ever wanted, through your looks and charm.”

“I’m sure you will.”

She huffed and tried a different one. “A new voyage will fill your life with untold memories.”

“Now that one sounds like a fortune cookie.”

“You try then.”

Severus shrugged and took the proffered ball. He ran his hands over the joke of a crystal ball and watched as it filled with smoke, turning warm and tingly beneath his fingertips. Tiny print appeared in a golden, curling font: “Your shoes will make you very happy today.”

He looked up and made eye contact with Minerva, exhaling the barest hint of another laugh as he thought of the puddles of slush they had walked through to leave Hogwarts and the impervious charm casted on his boots. He supposed it wasn’t too far off. 

Another crystal ball caught his eye and he reached for it. It was clearly another counterfeit, but the stand it rested on seemed genuine enough - heavy and silver-plated. Three crescent moons gather to keep the crystal ball in place, the empty spaces between them interlaced with deep blue sapphires and hand carved runes. 

He studied the runes for a moment, fairly certain they were a protection spell. “I think I’ll get this.” he announced, holding up the stand. He took the faux ball in his other hand, getting distracted when it filled with smoke and offered him another fortune: an unexpected acquaintance will resurface. 

“For Sybill?” Minerva asked, half-paying attention as she thumbed through a collection of star charts. She looked up when she didn’t receive an answer. “Severus?”

Severus was scowling down at the fortune (although it felt more like a warning) and set it down amongst the others. He didn’t put merit in fortune-telling, let alone crystal balls that sold for less than six galleons and were meant for children. “For Sybill.” he nodded, walking away from the merchandise. He absolutely wasn’t thinking about boots and his paranoia of running into old friends that increased tenfold whenever he left the castle’s wards and how fortune-telling was the only reason he’d made rank within the Death Eaters in the first place. 

The stand ended up costing him three galleons, which was more than he’d hope to spend on all of his gifts, but there’s a guilt that gnawed at him whenever he thought about Sybill Trewlaney and his time as a Death Eater at the same time; namely, how a conversation he’d had with the Dark Lord had nearly gotten her killed and it was enough to override his desire to shop frugally. 

Minerva purchased a pendant for Aurora: frail lines of silver connected to tiny stars, making up constellations that changed with the position of the planets. It was beautiful and he wished he had seen it first, but he also knew Aurora liked reading romantic murder mysteries and he could think of a few titles she’d likely enjoy.

Not that he read romantic murder mysteries.

At all. 

They left the wizarding equipment shop and continued with their browsing. The outdoor stalls were being illuminated by floating orbs now and warming charms had been cast over the next huddle of tables they approached. 

Severus was studying a display of cloak pins when Minerva called his name. 

He glanced over at her and found her holding up a box full of  ornaments - red, green, and silver baubles with gold flakes that changed color - and a tiny, but determined-looking pewter witch mounted on a broomstick that was meant to fly around the tree. 

“We’re getting these.” 

“We are?” Severus asked, moving closer to rifle through the table she had grabbed them from. He grinned as he found a box of potion phials, brightly painted and stoppered to keep the glitter water inside from spilling out. “This is entirely inaccurate.” he sniffed, but he was still smiling like an idiot because of course he was nerdy enough to find potion bottle ornaments delightful. “Amortentia is definitely not pink and if someone ever hands you a Sleeping Draught that sparkles, they need to be arrested for attempted murder.”

Minerva laughed and they paid for the three boxes of ornaments and two white-fur trimmed stockings because Min had insisted they were a decorating requirement, but that they would need to purchase two because hers matched Elphinstone’s and she wasn’t quite ready to hang it up when she knew they were meant to be a pair. 

The mood dampened a little after that admission and Severus found himself floundering. He didn’t know if he was meant to comfort her or how to even do it, so he grabbed the cloak pin he had been watching, a little bronze frog that leapt from its post and perched on your shoulder - absolutely useless as a fastener, but perfect for a distraction and invoking a smile - and claimed it was the ideal gift for Albus. 

“It even looks like a chocolate frog.” he finished, handing the vendor fifteen sickles in exchange for the now-boxed-up pin. “He’s going to love it.”

Minerva’s faint smile was soft. “He will.” 

They parted ways for the first time when they reached the bookshop. Minerva had something she wanted to get at Twilfit and Tattings and Severus waved her off, eager to finally enter Flourish and Blotts. 

“Be good.” 

He scowled at ordinance and mockingly saluted her as he headed inside. The bookstore was warm and softly lit, smelled of fresh parchment and chamomile tea. The shelves reached all the way up to the ceiling, wall-to-wall displays only broken by the burning fireplace and the collection of squishy, comfy-looking chairs gathered in front of it. 

The shopkeeper waved at him as she organized a stack of new releases next to the shelf where the school textbooks were kept. There’s a beverage cart near the fireplace, holding a teapot and an assortment of mismatched mugs. He helped himself to a spot of chamomile and started to wander around, using his wand to summon books that seemed interesting enough to add to the growing pile floating behind him. 

In the end, he decided on six books - two for Aurora, one for Argus, and three for himself. 

The newly purchased stack fit easily inside his satchel, barely taking up any room beside the crystal ball stand, the stuffed kneazle - plush toy, not taxidermy - he had found at the Magical Menagerie for Hagrid, and all the other knick-knacks he had decided on. Not to mention everything else that already resided in there.

It wasn’t technically illegal. 

Besides, it wasn’t his fault that undetectable extension charms were so advanced that not many wizards were able to do it properly. Furthermore, both Albus and Minerva were aware of it, and if anyone were to get in trouble here, his money was on the headmaster. He was confident in his spell-casting abilities and the worst that could happen was accidentally falling in and unable to find his way out - which wasn’t even that bad, considering he always carried around a medley of potions and snacks and even a blanket because he was that paranoid of being left out in the cold with no one to turn to.

He blinked.

Alright, maybe his abandonment issues were starting to make themselves known, but in his defense, Minerva had been gone for a good forty minutes now. 

The point was, casting the charm was heavily frowned upon by the Ministry, but it wasn’t going to get him arrested either. He had worse things on his resume to choose from - and thank Merlin the Ministry of Magic never found out about the...unsavory potions he had been experimenting with around the time of his trial a few years back. 

“Severus?”

He stiffened, flashes of smoke filled spheres and curling script flashing in his mind as he heard a voice that did not belong to Minerva. Tension coiled in his shoulders and he carefully secured the buckle on his satchel before he turned around and greeted the man who had decided to approach him. 

“Severus Snape.” the man grinned wolfishly, blue eyes twinkling with delight. “As I live and breathe.”

“Corban Yaxley.” Severus greeted, taking in the other’s appearance. His hair had grown out since the last time he’d seen him and his honey-colored locks were pulled back in a low ponytail, accentuating his squared jaw and arched eyebrows. “What a pleasure to run into you.”

“Quite.” Yaxley grinned, the edges sharp.  “How is Hogwarts? I heard you were made Head of House for Slytherin.” He took a step closer and leaned forward, his voice dropping as if they were conspiring next to the biographies. “An excellent opportunity to shape the minds of the future, don’t you think?”

Severus kept his face blank. “As well as one could expect,” he answered airily, as if he weren’t gripping his wand beneath the folds of his cloak tight enough to turn his knuckles white, “considering how brainless they all seem to be.” 

Yaxley chuckled and leaned back, his posture appearing relaxed and friendly now, but Severus knew better than to trust a former Death Eater who had avoided going to Azkaban simply because he was that good of a liar. 

“I don’t get paid enough to deal with their unruliness.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ve picked up a trick or two to deal with that.” Yaxley winked and then raised an eyebrow at him. “Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft, Severus?” He stepped closer again. “You used to be so impressive.”

“All of that is irrelevant now.”

“Shame.”

The man was still smiling though and his eyes glinted with something that looked an awful lot like triumph when Severus broke and took a step backwards. He composed himself, but the fingers on his visible hand still clenched around the empty teacup he’d all but forgotten about. “How are things faring at the Ministry?” he deflected, proud when his words didn’t falter. 

“Excellent, ever since I got this promotion.” Yaxley smirked. “Karkaroff might have turned traitor - and I can’t say I blame him, for all he’s accomplished: headmaster of Durmstrang, I hear - dropping names left and right in an attempt to hightail it out of Azkaban, but he really did me a solid by getting Rookwood sacked.” 

“Glad to hear of it.” 

Yaxley stepped closer again and murmured, “Glad to hear he didn’t take you down with him, though. I heard he named you, but I was in America on Ministry business during the Death Eater trials.” Severus could feel the man’s breath on his face and it caused his facade to falter as an awful feeling crept down his spine. “I’ve missed seeing you around, Sev. You’re not hiding out in that fancy castle of yours, are you?”

Severus shook his head, unable to speak.

“Good.” Yaxley’s smile turned saccharine as he put a hand on Severus’ shoulder. 

The small bell over the door chimed as it opened, letting in a gust of cold air as someone entered, and it broke the spell. Corban Yaxley dropped his hand and headed for the door. “Don’t be a stranger, yeah?” 

Minerva was standing in front of him now, her eyes narrowed as she studied him carefully. “Alright?” she asked, and this time, Severus jumped - and for a split second, he wondered the psychology behind his body staying absolutely still some of the times he was surprised versus the times when he flinched - and pulled his cloak tighter around his shoulders. He couldn’t find the words to answer her, his mind heavily focused on the unpleasant weight he still felt on his arm, as if Yaxley were still touching him. 

“Let’s get a bite to eat.” Min led him outside and he followed as if on autopilot. “We won’t make it back to Hogwarts in time for dinner.” 

He didn’t know the time, didn’t know if she was telling the truth or not, but he also didn’t feel like returning to the bustle of students just yet, so he let her guide him through the white dusted streets of Diagon Alley. Snow had begun to fall, but he barely paid it any mind. He was still reeling, lost in his head as Minerva walked them through The Leaky Cauldron and right into muggle London. 

He flinched when she put a hand on his arm, still thinking of Yaxley’s unwelcome touch, and her lips thinned as he choked out an apology. She shook her head and gestured to his cloak before transforming her own into a cream-colored coat. He understood then and raised his wand - still gripped tightly between very numb fingers - and fumbled his way through the spell, changing his wizarding apparel into a winter coat. 

“Did you find something for everyone?” Minerva asked gently, as she led them down the street. 

He tried to think of everything he bought, frowning when he realized he’d forgotten the one person whose gift mattered the most: hers. “Just about.” he mumbled, hating the way his voice betrayed his weakness. It was no wonder his students didn’t listen; he was pathetic. How he’d ever been able to lie to the Dark Lord and not get killed was beyond him. Perhaps Yaxley had a point: he used to be so impressive. 

They entered the first open establishment they saw, a hole-in-the-wall pub with yellow paint and wooden paneling that had once seen better days, but the imperfections were overshadowed by the dozens of framed photographs that dated the place back to the fifties. The lights were hazy, casting an ambient glow onto the green vinyl seats, and soft music - jazzy Christmas songs, from the sound of it- was playing over the speakers, a strange contrast to the clinking of glasses and stifled laughter coming from the patrons at the bar. 

Minerva requested a corner booth and took the side that kept her back to the door, wordlessly yet pointedly, and Severus exhaled with a relief he didn’t wish to admit to. They were offered a laminated menu, but Min ordered the special for them without enquiring anything about it - and Severus was beginning to see a pattern there - and two pints of the house ale, and he wasn’t sure whether he was grateful or embarrassed for her help. 

“I believe I found the perfect gift for Albus.” Minerva started talking, once they were alone again, and reached into a bright pink shopping bag from Gambol and Japes, pulling out a six inch slab of what looked like granite. 

He stared at the object for a solid minute before he gave in and reached for it, taking the smooth square of white-speckled stone and examining it. It had no divots, no fault lines, no imperfections of any kind and he idly wondered if this was a very simplistic paperweight or an attempt to distract him from his impending anxiety attack. “I don’t get it.” he finally conceded. 

“It’s a puzzle box.” Minerva took it back and turned it over a few times. “Only the most advanced spellcaster could ever dream of solving it.” 

That piqued his attention and he reached for it again. “Hold on, I want to try.” He glanced around the pub before tucking his wand into the sleeve of his jumper and began casting a number of spells, starting with the most basic he could think of - it came from the joke shop, right? There was humor to be found in unexpected simplicity - and even casting a few that he definitely hadn’t learned at Hogwarts. 

He gave up, frustrated. 

Minerva, on the other hand, was grinning. “This will keep him entertained, don’t you think?” she asked, putting it away. 

“It’s going to keep me up for the rest of my life.” Severus replied. 

Their food arrived then, burgers on pretzel buns with grilled mushrooms and swiss cheese, and Severus was quick to reach for the chips. Whether it was her intention or not, the distraction had worked and now he worried that she would ask about his run-in with Corban Yaxley. Given the look on her face, it felt inevitable, so with a stifled sigh, Severus cast a whispered muffliato and a muggle repelling charm over them. 

“Just say it, then.” he mumbled.

“Say what?”

He glared at her. “I ruined our outing with my overreaction, there at the end. I can tell you’re thinking it, so don’t bother lying to me.”

Minerva blinked and reached for her ale. “Actually, I was wondering if it would be in poor taste to gift Hagrid with a cookbook.”

“What?”

“Surely you’ve tried his rock cakes?” Min asked, biting into a chip. “I just feel he could benefit from a proper recipe. I’m sure he would be an excellent baker, if he just measured the flour correctly.”

He took the out for what it was. “You’d need to find a big enough copy of The Joy of Baking.”

They were nearly done with their meal, their glasses long empty - downsides to the repelling charm, he supposed - when Minerva asked quietly, “Are you alright?”

He nodded. 

“Had fun?”

Again, he nodded, because he did have a good time. His chance encounter at the end hadn’t even gone badly - he always worried what would happen if he ran into an ex-Death Eater in public, worried he would choose his words wrong and give himself away. The Dark Lord might be gone, but his cover needed to remain intact, Merlin forbid, the worst ever happened. He just wished he had kept it together better. 

He had to learn to keep it together better.

Minerva didn’t pry any further. He cancelled the spells while she talked about Filius’ plan to form a carolling group separate from the Frog Choir and then glared at her when she mentioned it was open to the staff as well, because he could tell where that conversation was going. They were interrupted by their server - small mercies - with their bill, and Severus rifled through his satchel for the muggle money he always carried. 

They were standing just outside the door, shrugging back into their coats, when his attention was caught by a colorful flyer for a christmas lights festival. 

“We should go.” he told Minerva and bit back a smirk at her surprise that he was suggesting an activity for them to do, instead of her. 

“Really?”

“I recall you mentioning it was something you did with Elphinstone.” Severus kept his voice casual, shrugging the weight of what he was offering away. “I think we should go. This weekend.”

Minerva was still staring at the flyer, but when she finally replied, her voice was warm. “This weekend, then.”

-- a/n: maybe i got carried away again?? where’s the actual plot?? there isn’t one baby!! just 4.7k of general chaos

[redstainedsocks]

Baby It’s Cold Outside Inside

Fill for the @whump-advent-calendar! These are still sort-of chronological for the series, but don’t follow on exactly from where I’m posting with the rest, just other fun (for us, not for them xD) things I imagine happening. Think of them as random snapshots of their time in captivity ;)

Warnings: Hypothermia, cuddling for warmth (creepy style!), forced to strip, forced nudity, ice bath, waterboarding, begging, torture, hurt as punishment, defiant whumpee, conditioned whumpee, pet names, creepy whumper, lady whumper.

“Strip.”

The order is simple enough but it still makes Alex’s mental gears grind to a halt. He knew he wasn’t going to get out of this lightly, but being cornered in the bathroom while Adria has a look of absolute glee on her face, is making his heart beat painfully hard.

“Why? What are you gonna do?”

“Me? Darling boy I’m not going to do anything, you made it quite clear how much you don’t want my touch.”

Which is true. He’s pulled away one too many times, hissed in pain and disgust, flinched, shrugged off her hands… he doesn’t know how Jasper does it, just puts up with the scalding heat of her touch. He eyes the full bathtub, the water cool--no fire beneath to warm it like there usually is. He gulps. He could try to fight this, shove and push and run, but there’s not really anywhere to go and as soon as she catches him it will be worse. He’ll just make it worse. Slowly he lifts the hem of his jumper and pulls his t-shirt off with it.

So far he’s kept a little of his dignity here, some small amount of privacy. He’s changed in the bathroom, and never been naked. They’ve seen his skin injured and bared, but they’ve never seen him stripped bare, not like this.

She watches him like he’s a treat to savour, and he waits to see if she’ll lick her lips like a cat, or bat him around like a mouse between her paws.

He covers himself once he’s naked, and her eyes alight, her smile widens. “In you get.”

He glances at the full tub and grits his teeth. Steels himself. It can’t be that bad, can it? He can do this. He climbs in, wincing at the cool wash of water over toes, ankles, calves, knees. Lowers down into it until he sits with his legs drawn up and his arms wrapped around them.

“Now what?”

She shrugs, cocks her head to the side. He listens too, hears the sound of Jasper tap-tap-tapping in the room next door. The cold room. Several feet lower down, there’s a flight of steps down into the room. The tapping is an ice pick. It’s Jasper chipping away buckets full of ice from the large behemoth blocks that keep the room cold.

Alex shivers just knowing what’s coming.

Jasper comes huffing and puffing into the room, nose and cheeks red, but his body warmed by exertion. “All of it?” he asks, accent thick with worry.

Adria kisses him on the cheek and gestures him passed her, where she stands guard in the doorway. “All of it, pet.”

The ice hits the water in a haphazard series of clunks, clattering down and splashing Alex with the tepid, room temperature water that he’s already sitting in. The ice hits his toes, his shins, and it only takes a few seconds for the first bucketful to lower the temperature. His bare skin feels the shift and he cries out, moving instinctually to get up, get out, not thinking only reacting.

“Do. Not. Get. Out.” Adria’s voice cuts through his clouded senses and he stops halfway out of the water.

Glaring, not willing to back down, he lowers back into the water. Three more buckets of ice follow.

There’s a hand on his head, fingers wrapped into his hair, and it’s holding him under. Ice in his lungs, freezing water squeezing every muscle, constricting his ribs and his stomach, and he can’t draw breath and his eyes sting in the cold. He thrashes, weaker now than before, desperate for air and release and warmth and--

The hand hauls him up and he coughs, bitter cold acid in his throat and he chokes as his teeth chatter. Jasper’s hand loosens, pets shakely at the back of his head. Alex watches with wide eyes, as Jasper looks anywhere but at his face.

“Thank you, pet, that will do.”

“Yes Mistress.”

Jasper is all hollowed out, his eyes empty, and it makes Alex feel even more alone. Jasper just… goes away, and Alex doesn’t know how he does it, but he becomes a vessel and tool for her hurt. He shivers harder, sending little ripples across the surface, as Jasper stands and leaves.

“H-how much longer?” Alex asks, between the clashing of his teeth.

“Until you beg for my warmth and mean it.” Adria crosses her arms and leans against the door frame. Drinking in his suffering. Her red hair and creamy skin look so warm and inviting, but the look on her face is utterly devoid of anything human, any compassion.

Still, he opens his mouth to speak, willing to say the words right now if it gets him out of this. One swift raise of her hand stops him.

“Not until you mean it, or I’ll come over there and boil you alive.” Adria snaps her fingers, and he flinches.

He wonders if he lays very still if he’ll notice the water level rise as the ice begins to melt. He won’t try getting up again, or lifting more of his body above the waterline. Being held under by Jasper over and over was enough to learn that lesson, the threat of her touch turning the ice water to searing steam is enough to make him wait it out, too.

---   ---   ---

His skin has paled, and he’s mesmerized by his palms, so much lighter than usual. His jaw aches, deep into his skull and bringing on a headache the likes of which he’s never known, all from his teeth clattering. Jasper has reloaded the tub twice, and Alex can’t even tell if he’s crying, or if his face is just wet from the rising water, and the way he keeps slipping below the surface.

He hears them talking about someone who will get them more ice, and they can use as much as it takes for him to submit, and he can’t make sense of any of it--except for the idea that he has to do something to put an end to this.

His eyes skim around the room, landing on her face and skittering away again. She won’t let him die, will she? He groans, as more muscles seize and ache, his back arching against the pain. Then he flops back into water and another round of violent shivering. He bites his lip and listens to his own heartbeat thudding in his ears.

“Please, it hurts. H-h-hurts, let-let me out.” he looks to her, cries out, and bites his own tongue as his body clenches. Metallic liquid floods his mouth and his hands fly out to the sides of the tub. His fingertips are ashen grey. “Please, my queen, please.”

She waves one hand, “Continue.”

He can beg now? It's time? The words tumble from his mouth, asking for warmth, begging for touch, agreeing not to pull away again, to be--if not good, at least better. He hopes he isn’t making promises he can’t keep. He probably is, but he’s too far gone to care.

---   ---   ---

Jasper helps him get dry, and into a pair of loose sweatpants, and Alex clings to his warmth. He’s still shaking, and he flinches as Adria approaches. He hopes it doesn’t look like more than a violent tremble.

She has a blanket and pulls him close, folds his arms over his chest and wraps the blanket tightly around him. He is pliant, even as his limbs ache and won’t loosen. The blanket pulls tightly around and around, wrapping between one arm and over the other until he’s swaddled so completely he can barely move his upper body.

“There, now, would you like to sit with me by the fire?”

He nods, even as he tests the hold of the restriction.

“Words, Alex.”

“Please… umm, please take me to the fire. I, I would like to sit with you, near you.”

She smiles, teeth glinting, and leads him to the main cavern where a fire is roaring in the pit and cushions are piled on the seating around it. It takes both Adria and Jasper to keep him on his shaking feet.

She pushes him to the ground, between her knees, and he folds up there caught in the hold of her swaddling--trapped in the room of her making, and the punishment of her choosing. She cards fingers through his damp hair, strokes the sides of his face. He aches, even as the warmth seeps into his bones.

She tells him it’s better when he’s good and he nods, even though he doesn’t believe it. She tells him it’s easy to give in, and he watches Jasper’s face twitch, and then grow distant all over again.

And later, when she slips a burning hand below the folds of the blanket to touch the skin of his shoulder and his neck, she lets him turn his face into the soft swell of her thigh, and scream.

[Taglist: @lonesome--hunter, @whumpthisway, @slaintetowhump @untilthepainstarts @sneeze-queen @muddy-swamp-princess @i-contain-multitud-s @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi]

[lov3nerdstuff]

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 6.10}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.2k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

"Are you actually going to tell them the entire story?" Snape asked curiously once the girls' footsteps had faded entirely, turning to Robin with a not-smirk.

"Nah… I will tell them exactly what they expect to hear. Spells and plants and old castles and spooky dungeons. They have no use for anything that happened in between." Robin shrugged with a sigh, swinging her backpack back over her shoulders now that her jacket was gone.

"Clever."

"Did you expect anything else?" She smirked, giving him a smug look along with it.

"I wouldn't dare to."

"It seems I've taught you well after all."

"You're insufferable."

"Obviously." Robin laughed, leaning her head to the side and motioning down the hallway. "Let's get the Siazella to Professor Sprout, and the moss to the lab."

"Eager now, are we?" He smirked in return, without even attempting to hide his humor.

"Would be a true pity if I was eager only now." She teased right back, then sighed with a softening smile. "On a serious note, I actually can't wait to be back in our own dungeons. It's been a long day."

"In that case, lead the way."

To their luck, Professor Sprout was still in her office when they reached the greenhouse. It took a minute of explaining what exactly their matter was, but after that the herbology teacher was all smiles and excitement. Robin handed her the flowers, unshrinking them, and while she explained their specifics to the professor, Snape merely listened with a minorly amused and majorly proud expression on his face.

Robin for her part was surprised by how easily it came to her to talk to Sprout like an equal, which she probably shouldn't be doing, but the herbology professor didn't seem to mind, and actually took on a similarly proud expression to the one Snape displayed. Still, in an attempt not to completely overstep her boundaries, Robin merely stated the facts about the Siazella, carefully giving her own theory about how to best grow them as well, and then let Sprout take it from there. Shortly afterwards they bid their goodnights, agreeing that Robin would come back tomorrow afternoon to check up on the flowers.

When they finally made their way down into the dungeons and towards the lab, Robin felt like she hadn't been down here in ages. Like they had been gone for weeks. But it wasn't even ten o'clock in the evening when they finally entered the dark laboratory once again, and thus not even 24 hours since she'd last been in here.

The fire in the fireplace was lit in an instant, as were the candles spread around the room, and sooner rather than later, the room was filled with a soft comfortable light and a pleasant warmth. Robin sighed in contentment when she dropped her backpack onto one of the tables, summoning up the box with the moss while Snape threw his robes over the other table as he usually did.

"I suggest we do half and half." She mused, pushing the moss into the middle of the table before she also got out her notebook and a pen. "Gives us the widest range of possibilities to work with, in my opinion, but you'll probably know better."

"I agree, actually." He sighed, in tiredness not in annoyance, and went ahead to separate the moss into two piles. "Do you have a specific preserving technique in mind or may I suggest one?"

"No, go right ahead, the choice is all yours. I've done my part for today. The rest is up to you now." Robin smiled, and handed him one of the empty jars from one of the shelves even before he could ask for it. It was an every-day procedure to dry plants, and Robin knew enough about it to be one step ahead already. They would dry half of the moss, and then preserve the other half in whatever way he saw fit.

While Snape took care of the to be dried patch for now, Robin wrote a label for the jar and stuck it onto the glass, then a minute later sorted the finished thing with the moss in it into the shelves with the ingredients. Drying really was easy and fast, no thinking involved. The preservation process however took more effort.

The idea was to place the moss into a larger jar, which then they would fill up with a potion for long term storage. That potion however they needed to make first, and thus they both got started on cutting up the required ingredients. Before long the preparatory work was done however, and all that was left to do was waiting and adding things into the cauldron in the right order and at the right time. So far so good.

After a day out in the cold, the many flames' warmth that now filled the small room soon made Robin feel too warm for once, and she thanked herself for wearing layers that could be taken off individually. Sighing, she stepped over to the side where she wouldn't knock things off the tables, and grabbed the hem of her jumper to pull the thick fabric over her head at last. What she unfortunately hadn't considered was that the t-shirt she wore underneath was a loose fit. And that said t-shirt would ride up along with the jumper.

At first she didn't even take notice of the situation, but when she simultaneously heard a small gasp from off to the side and felt the direct heat of the fireplace in front of her brushing against the skin of her stomach, the situation became abundantly clear with a start. Her arms snapped back down to her sides in an instant, while an unstoppable heat rose to her face. Oh bloody hell… If anyone could be more awkward, she didn't know how. At least she was facing the fireplace, squeezing her eyes shut and clenching her jaw, and not looking at Snape who was standing a few steps to her side, and that was the only reason why she could suppress the burning embarrassment enough to make another attempt at shedding her jumper. Holding her t-shirt down, this time around.

Then she took a deep breath to fight the heat on her face, dropping the stupid piece of clothing into the corner she was facing, and finally turned around as if nothing at all had happened. That usually worked well with him, just pretending that certain things hadn't even happened. But as it seemed, she wasn't so lucky this time.

Snape stared at her in a mixture of embarrassment and discomfort, but mostly in concern and surprise. Definitely not what Robin had expected… annoyance, disgust, indifference perhaps… but why on earth did he look so worried?!

"Is, uh… Is everything alright?" She asked with a small frown and a slightly too high pitched voice while crossing her arms over her chest for a moment. But she just couldn't stop fidgeting and thus she went to trace the scar on her neck with her fingers once again. At least she was wearing a rather pretty lacy bra and not one of those granny ones… as if that would make it any better! She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at herself. Her brain did weird things when tired.

"Your side." He finally said with a very much concerned frown. "It seems that your fall did leave a mark after all."

"What?" Now Robin frowned as well, glad to abandon the awkward situation so very quickly even if in replacement for a confusing one.

"You promised you were fine, and yet your entire right side obviously is not." He explained pointedly, and Robin's eyebrows rose in surprise. Before she could think better of it, she took a glimpse at the damage, and indeed, her entire right rib cage as well as what she saw of her hip was starting to colour deep violet. Oh great…

"I promised that I believe I'm fine, which is the truth. I'm feeling perfectly alright, actually. This looks far worse than it really is." She said when she looked back up at Snape with a small shrug. "It doesn't even hurt. I wouldn't have noticed had you not pointed it out."

He kept frowning at her, but the look of betrayal vanished from his face at least, and Robin wondered once again if he had always been so very concerned about her wellbeing. Perhaps she was seeing more of it now because they actually were something like friends at this point. The thought made her smile, and her smile in return finally got him to stop frowning.

"If you say so." He mused, moving around the table in time to add the next ingredient to their potion. "You would tell me if you ever found yourself being any less than fine, wouldn't you?"

"Of course I would." Robin replied sincerely, giving him another smile that hopefully didn't reveal just how touched she felt by his words. Maybe it was the overwhelming tiredness that was slowly taking a hold of not only her body but her mind as well, but she felt incredibly cared for in that moment. In a way she hadn't ever before, with no one else before.

"Good."

"I know you won't, but…" She said then, halting in her movement of picking up her notebook from the edge of the table, "Just know that it goes both ways, yes? You can talk to me about anything at all, should you ever find yourself not repelled by the idea. I'm right here."

He froze for a moment, in the same way he had back in the study when Robin had told him that his presence was comforting to her, but soon enough this tension melted away again and he returned her gaze in the same way as always. "I know. Thank you."

"Anytime."

Smiling, and perhaps a bit surprised at how easily he had accepted her words, Robin grabbed her notebook and then sat down on the ground by the fireplace, sighing deeply. Sitting at last; what a wonderful feeling. While waiting for the potion, she might as well start noting down the minor alterations she had to make to her theory after today's excursion. Five minutes of scribbling down quick notes and small reminders of what she would still need to look up later however, she started to yawn. Once, twice, five times, eight times… until the words on the parchment in front of her started swimming together suspiciously. Sighing, she placed the notebook down by her side. Geez, she was tired… the day truly had taken its toll. Her eyelids felt heavy as lead, and her head was almost too heavy to keep upright.

"Tell me something." She yawned again, looking over to Snape who had sat down at the table with an equally tired expression. "Anything. Please… I'm falling asleep."

"Perhaps you should retire to your room then."

"And leave you to do the work and suffer alone? Hell no!"

"You truly are too stubborn for your own good." He sighed, but quite obviously was too tired to argue with her. "Ask me something then, if you want me to talk."

"Alright…" Robin chewed on her bottom lip for a moment, trying to think of a question that would be appropriate and not all too teasing for once. They both were too tired for that. "Why do you always wear black? I mean… only black."

"Habit."

"And how did that habit develop?" She rolled her eyes, stifling another yawn.

"As a student, I eventually took to wearing black whenever I could because it was easier to hide the blood stains."

Now that got Robin's honest attention, and she frowned up at him in surprised concern. "What? Why on earth was that something you had to worry about?"

"I wasn't as fortunate as to get rid of my tormentors like you did, before… matters degenerated." He replied in a surprising amount of honesty, especially since it obviously wasn't an easy topic for him. "Perhaps I simply wasn't as adept back then as you have proven to be."

"I…" She didn't know what to say. Nothing she could say would change the past, nor would her pity do anything but embarrass them both. "Perhaps I was just lucky enough to have you to help me, that's more like it. I am everything but adept at dealing with people."

"You seem to be doing just fine with your roommates. They undoubtedly adore you."

"Yeah, but I'm their adult friend, as they like to call it. A big sister. Not an equal." She sighed, and rubbed her eyes to perhaps get her eyelids to stay open a little while longer. "It doesn't matter, I appreciate them and they appreciate me. We're good. Tell me something else. Something funny."

"I'm hardly the person to ask in that regard."

"I have absolutely no idea what you mean by that." Robin grinned to herself lazily. "You're the funniest person I know. Your humour just takes a while to understand."

"And you believe to understand it?" He quirked an eyebrow at her in amusement.

"Obviously." She replied with a smirk, upon which he just had to return the very same gesture. "You always tell me serious stories. Tell me a funny one for once."

"I would rather drown myself in a cauldron."

"Oh come on… I insist."

"Fine." He was surprisingly quick to give in and yield to her request, and Robin felt affirmed in her suspicion that he had never truly meant to decline her in the first place. A warm rush of pride welled up in her chest, and a smile came to her face as he spoke on. "What have you heard about the man who I superseded as potions professor at this school?"

"Not much. Actually, I don't even remember his name… something odd which reminded me of snails."

"Close enough; His name is Horace Slughorn. A peculiar man, with a rather twisted idea of making himself important in a carefully woven net of dependency and liabilities. Either way, he had a way of picking favorites. Students who excelled in classes, who had a promising future ahead of them in a field he deemed profitable for himself, or who simply were born into influential families. He hosted various festivities for those individuals, which I can assure you were dreadfully mindless and generally far more interesting for those not invited. Logically, the ones not in his favour did not take particularly well to the exclusivity of his attention and assistance. Which, precisely, is why at one point in my sixth year, a few students decided to mess with him. They brewed a decent enough Veritaserum after stumbling upon the recipe, and poured it into his tea just before potions class one day. It was pure chaos. He had to lock himself in his office until the effect had worn off, or he might just have spilled all of his plans and secrets to the prying ears and eyes of his students. I still remember the horrified look on his face when he realized he could speak nothing but the truth… I believe he always carried an antidote with him after that day."

"I can very well imagine. Just fabulous…" Robin chuckled, having closed her eyes halfway through the story when they had become too painful, too heavy to keep open. "I assume you were part of the group of students he favored?"

"Unfortunately. We weren't particularly fond of each other though."

"You were the one who gave those students who pranked him the recipe for the Veritaserum, weren't you?"

"I will never admit to such a thing." He replied after a second of silence, pointedly innocently, and Robin had to smirk. She'd definitely caught him right there.

"That was a fun story, by the way." She said instead, yawning again. "I enjoyed hearing it, thank you. Isn't it, the time for the… uh… next thing in the… in the potion now?"

"Indeed. Would you like to or shall I?"

"Feel free to. Don't even remember..." Robin mumbled, unable to open her eyes or lift a single finger at this point. Even talking seemed too much of a hassle now that her mind was barely still awake. The warmth of the fireplace to her right was making her drowsy more and more, and the soft bubbling of the potion, a comforting rhythmic pattern, was only adding to it.

And then there was Snape's voice, muttering under his breath about something she couldn't make out clearly, which was wrapping around her senses like a calming blanket of safety and comfort. Just like that, his voice was what finally pulled her over into the realm of sleep.

… … …

A soft rustling of fabrics, a quiet mewl. Warmth. Labored breathing. The sizzling of a dying fire. Movement.

Robin's eyes fluttered open for a broken second, lids still heavy and unwilling, and she dug her face deeper into the scratchy fabric balled up beneath her head. The sounds that had woken her up reached her ears again, and she shifted on the hard ground, hugging the fabrics wrapped around her even more tightly. That smell… it was so familiar. So comforting.

Her eyes fluttered open once more upon a new crackling close by, and they stayed open at last. The things she was feeling, was noticing, were starting to make sense at last, as her tired mind processed her surroundings. She was lying on the ground in the laboratory, close to the fireplace that was barely even lit at this point. Her jumper had been placed beneath her head as a pillow, and she found herself wrapped up in a cloud of black fabric. The colour, the smell… her mind filled with impressions of Snape. Her heart skipped a beat, and she couldn't help hugging his robes even more tightly around herself. Good gods… she felt overwhelmed with love and affection in an instant.

A sharp intake of breath, a barely audible whine. She wasn't alone.

Robin turned onto her other side upon the sound, urging her tried muscles to function for the small movement at least. The laboratory was mostly dark, filled with silver moonlight more than with the dying fire's golden glow. She first spotted the large jar high above her on the table further down in the room, filled to the brim with a bluish liquid and the almost black moss at the bottom. Her heart squeezed together for a second; he'd finished the potion, finished their work for her. Relief and thankfulness took over her mind for a moment, crawling through the tiredness into her cocktail of unsuppressed emotions.

Then her eyes fell onto something far more interesting, and she couldn't help but stare with every speckle of awe she found within herself. She really wasn't alone after all. Not far away from her, the faint light that had lingered illuminated the sleeping form of none other than the potions' master himself. Robin held her breath for a few long seconds, observing his distressed expression, the subtle movements of his closed eyes, the frown on his face.

He must've been leaning against the shelf on the wall behind him before falling asleep, just like she had hours ago… Now however he was lying on the ground as well, his head resting on his arm while the other was stretched out into the open space in front of him. His dark hair was splayed out on the stone beneath him like black rivers, always the contrast to his pale skin, especially in the soft silver moonlight. Robin couldn't help being inevitably and utterly mesmerized. This was the person she was in love with, the person she did love so very much, and she had never been prouder of her heart for that judgement.

And yet, when he made another heartbreaking sound that might be born of pain or fear alike, Robin found herself more lost than ever in return. He must be dreaming, tormented by his own mind, and as much as she yearned to, there was absolutely nothing she could do about it. At least nothing that he would not behead her for once he woke up. Well, that wasn't true… she could simply wake him up in this instant. She should wake him up, should return to her room and he to his. But what difference would it make if he was having nightmares here with her or alone in another place? The thought pained her no less, rather more even. No, she wouldn't wake him up, wouldn't leave him alone. But she also couldn't watch him suffering, not if there was a chance that she could –perhaps– make it better in another way.

Robin took a deep breath, pushing past her nerves and worries, and finally scooted herself closer to him. Not much, not enough to be next to him entirely… but enough so that when she stretched her arm out towards him as well, her fingertips touched his. She would never dare to be so bold as to hold his hand, not now, not like this, but the light touch of her fingers resting against his would be alright for the moment. For both their comfort.

For a moment, Robin focused on the lingering touch, focused on letting her own calm and comfort ebb through her and carry over to him from there. After a while, the frown on his face eased up and his breathing slowed down in accordance, to the point where he almost looked entirely at ease. Without the mountains of facades, Robin couldn't help marveling at how vulnerable he looked. Almost like that one time, that one moment a long time ago… she indeed had never forgotten that look of rawness and intensity on his face. Neither would she forget this one now.

Even though he looked so peaceful now, Robin kept her hand right where it was when she closed her eyes once more. They would both move away eventually, long before morning… he would never need to know. But she would grant herself this one dream, this one time of falling asleep next to him. Even if that happened to be two arms' length apart.

… … …

When the heavy cloud of sleep lifted from her mind again, and she slowly rose from the deepest unawareness, the first thing Robin noticed was something warm by her side. Without thinking, she instinctively tried to curl around it, savouring every bit of warmth she could gain.

"Robin…"

She hummed in return, smiling softly at the familiar voice, but didn't move in the slightest. Her mind was at perfect ease, telling her that she was right where she needed to be.

"Robin…" He repeated more loudly, and she did wake up just enough to notice that he couldn't make himself sound as annoyed as he was obviously trying to. "Wake up now, will you?"

Finally she opened her eyes, and once she realized that she had curled around Snape in her still half asleep state, she sat up immediately and pushed herself to an appropriate distance.

"I, uh… Sorry for… that." She croaked out, pushing her hair out of her face as she stifled a yawn.

"Good morning to you too." He merely replied, quirking an eyebrow at her in subtle amusement. "It really is ridiculously difficult to wake you up."

"Perhaps you're just doing it wrong." She replied before she could help it, but once the heat rose to her head half a second later, she hid her face in her hands. "Ugh, my brain isn't fully awake yet. I'm so sorry… again."

"Don't be. I find it rather amusing, to be honest."

"You do?" Robin frowned at him in mild doubt while he rose to his feet with a surprising grace for… whatever time it was. All she knew was that rays of sunshine were falling through the small window by now, creating soft illusions on the stones beneath her.

"Obviously." He answered with a small smirk, which Robin could barely see as he walked over to the other side of the small room.

"Thank you for finishing up the potion last night, by the way, even though I imagine you must've been rather tired as well. And thank you for staying, instead of just leaving me here. I hope you at least slept well, despite the cold floor, and, well, my presence." She finally said with a surprisingly insecure chuckle, while she also rose to her feet, picked up his robes that had slipped off her shoulders, and then straightened out her own clothes after placing the bunch of black fabric on the table.

"Indeed, unusually well even. The ground was a nuisance…" He mused, then added more quietly, "But your presence was not."

"That's… good." Robin found herself smiling down at the ground for a moment, then finally remembered how to human and moved to pick up her jumper. "I did sleep well too, actually, but I'm still way too tired."

"Likewise. However, we are already more than fashionably late for breakfast, and I believe you have made an appointment for after the meal."

"Right…" Robin sighed, closing her eyes for a moment, before she tied her jumper around her hips instead of putting it back on. "Perhaps I should just skip breakfast and go change before tutoring."

"I would prefer for you to have a decent meal for once. An apple and a candy bar hardly count in that regard."

"Well, you won't stand out negativity, looking just like any other day, with your same outfit as always! But people might actually notice that I didn't spend the night in my own room if I'm looking like yesterday's messier version." She protested, then tied her hair into a ponytail to give her fidgeting hands something to do. It would at least help with the mess her hair had turned into overnight.

"If I remember correctly, nobody saw you yesterday other than your roommates and Pomona. As for her, she usually cannot even remember having prepared herself a cup of tea five minutes after making it. And as for the former, I believe you have quite the authority over them. Simply do what you do best."

"Which would be?"

"Playing their game by your own rules. Outsmart them; you are quite brilliant at that."

"I don't know… doesn't change the fact that I probably look like a scarecrow." Robin sighed, but she had to agree that an actual meal sounded amazing right now. And she did see his point in it as well.

"You look perfectly fine, Robin. Stop worrying over nothing." He replied while he placed his robes back over his shoulders like he so often did, but this time it made Robin's heart skip a beat. How did he mind so ironically little that she'd been wrapped up in it all night?! It was as if he'd forgotten about it, or perhaps he simply didn't care. He didn't seem bothered by it in the slightest either way.

Thus she picked up her remaining things, stuffing the notebook and pen into her backpack, and then followed him out of the lab a moment later. They made their way up to the great hall quickly, in companionable and mostly tired silence, until they parted for the first time in over a day before entering the hall. Robin went in through the main doors, Snape through the one to the side that was closer to the head table.

The very moment Robin sat down next to Cas and across from Jorien, she knew that this conversation wouldn't be as easy as Snape had made it seem. She'd been gone the entire night… obviously they would be curious!

"Hey there, stranger." Jorien greeted her first, with a small smirk on her face. The girls had finished eating for the most part already, while Robin just now got started to pile foods onto her plate.

"Hey guys…" She sighed with a small smile she just couldn't get rid of. "Ready for some tutoring after breakfast?"

"Oh no, we're not doing that." Cas intervened immediately, staring at Robin with a smug smile on her face. "We are not talking about us until you spill where you've been all night. And don't even try to tell me you came back to our room in the meantime, because I know you didn't."

"No, you're absolutely right, I didn't come back to our room last night." Robin shrugged with feigned ease, taking a bite of her toast. "I was in the lab. We worked on a potion that felt like it might very well take forever, even though it wasn't particularly complex. When I think about the preparations, my legs hurt just from the memory of standing at that table for ages... But anyway, all is finished by now, and I'm left feeling very much tired."

Both girls seemed sincerely surprised by Robin's easy and honest reply, and that was exactly what Robin had counted on. If she just pretended that it wasn't a big deal, that she was happy to share all those irrelevant details, they would lose interest without realizing the extent of matters she wasn't telling them.

"So you were just in the lab with Snape all night?" Cas sighed, and once Robin nodded with an innocent expression, her sigh turned into a groan. "How boring is that! I was hoping for something unusual… a secretly passionate romance with a handsome prince, or seeing as it's you we're talking about, at least some kind of adventure. Not just an all-nighter, and the same old."

"I think both Snape and I had enough adventure throughout the day yesterday… We were glad to be back in the lab with the 'same old' as you call it." Robin shrugged it off, enjoying the scrambled eggs even though they had long gone cold and soggy. But any food was good food right now.

"I think you're the first person to ever spend more than 24 hours in a row with Snape, happily." Jorien snickered, and Robin let her eyes flicker to the head table for a second, only to see Snape looking as indifferent as ever while he was talking to McGonagall. Actually, McGonagall rather was talking to him for the majority of it. Robin smiled at the sight, and then turned her attention back to her roommates.

"I think she's the first person who survived more than 24 hours with him!" Cas snorted in return, lazily swirling pumpkin juice around her glass. "I don't know how you do it, Robin… Two hours per week is quite enough for me."

"You're getting it all wrong, guys… He survived 24 hours with me. That's the real challenge." Robin smirked at them with a wink, and both girls laughed.

"Well, there's no disagreeing with that. Especially when you're being so very strict about literally everything! Do you still insist on tutoring after breakfast?"

"Obviously."

______________________________

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[bribe-the-door]

the things that we’ll never know [001]

the one where best friend!harry apologizes 

a/n: hi friends :) it’s been a minute... hasn’t it? i’ve been going a bit stir crazy waiting for quarantine to end and the world to feel normal. so, to deal with the angst i have toward the current state of the world, I give you: fine line era angst. 

let me know if you’re interested in seeing more from me! i sure miss writing and i think it might be something i get back into these days :) xoxo h 

***

Are you still watching?

A banner pops up on your laptop screen, pausing the credits of yet another episode of Grey’s Anatomy. You scroll to the corner, click “yes”, and settle back into your spot; the corner of a well-worn grey sofa. A small grey cat, lovingly named Bean, readjusts her head and falls back asleep against you. The familiar two-beat drum sounds and Netflix shines in its red glory, the only light to illuminate your small space.

It is probably better this way, the darkness.

Having remained almost completely stationary for the past three days, the apartment is showing signs of abandonment and disarray. The space, normally light and airy despite its tiny size, feels cramped and stuffy. Plants droop in their pots as the sun sinks deeper into the sky and you’re too bothered to turn on the string lights. Instead you stay put, wilting, too.

Your laptop is wedged between a plate and bowl from a long-since concluded meal. A lone coffee mug sits cold, the dregs of drip coffee stagnant in the bottom of the cup. It will leave a ring of discoloration when you try to scrub it clean. There is a mess of cords under your legs; a charger, heating pad, headphones.

You’ll untangle them later, you tell yourself.

A sudden rush of action on-screen catches your attention, diverting your thoughts for a few minutes. An ambulance rushes to the hospital and interrupts a love triangle moment. Someone is caught in a longing gaze across the emergency department. Chaos ensues and there’s a dramatic cut to the next scene of hands furiously moving through surgery.

Your phone buzzes next to you and you glance at its screen, blue light casting a gastly glow over your face. It’s nothing important and you swipe to close the app.

A glaring red “1” catches your eye.

Your thumb hovers over the message app, knowing exactly what this text says. It’s remained unread, untouched, for three days now. An internal battle heats up in your brain, and, avoiding the turmoil altogether, you shake your head and lock your phone. It’s tossed aside as you push off of the couch. Netflix continues to play in the background.

You make your way into the kitchen (Bean following, curious) and scour the cabinets for something else to add to your pile of dishes on the coffee table. They’re bare except for a stale, half-eaten loaf of bread, some peanut butter, a box of elbow macaroni, and a can of peaches. A stray protein bar is likely hiding out somewhere in there, too, but you close the cupboard in defeat.

Since when were you so easily shaken by a simple “hi”?

A single laugh floats from your lungs. It happens again, this time out of disbelief.

And then it turns to a sob.

There is nothing simple about this greeting.

[three days earlier]

“Y/n,” Harry sighs. His hand rakes through his curls and leaves them disheveled. “It’s not that difficult of a concept.”

You feel your heart lurch into your throat, the second time this evening. The silence leaves only another opportunity for Harry to drive the wedge deeper between the both of you. He seldom leaves an argument without having the final word.

His eyes find yours amidst the tension. It’s uncomfortable and feels similar to the way your father scolded you as a child. His gaze locks you in place; cold.

“You’re acting as if you can’t see what I see,” he says, voice hardly a whisper. It grows in volume as the emotions well up within his chest. “Feel what I feel… It’s not /there/ anymore, y/n.”

Your lips part in attempts to interject, but are closed just as quickly.

“You’re not here anymore.” Harry’s head shakes and his eyes continue their grip on yours. “I’ve tried. I’ve tried and tried and nothing seems to stick. Not a single goddamn thing! I can’t figure you out, y/n. I’m going crazy trying to understand where I went so wrong.”

An angry fist pounds the table beside him and you stand in your place; fear paralyzes you and you are one with the cold kitchen tile. It’s a standoff now and neither of you move. You can’t move.

“Do you not have anything to say?” he spits, disbelief tinting the outburst. His eyes pity you, searching your face for any semblance of attention. Emotion. Something.

“I…” you begin, swallowing back the lump that’d made its presence known minutes ago. Your mind draws blank as his eyes bore into yours. This feels completely out of left field.

“Nothing?!”

“Harry, please.”

His hands fall to his sides in a final defeat. “No… No. No, y/n.” He’s talking to himself, muttering under his breath. He begins to turn away from the table, phone in hand. The counter is his next pursuit, likely in search of his keys, you presume.

“Where are you going? You ask, snapping to attention when you realize the familiar path he’s taking. He’s done this before. Many people in your life have taken this path, actually.

It’s the one ending in a slammed front door, an empty foyer. You don’t shake those feelings easily.

Harry laughs, “I’m not sure. But I’m not staying here.”

You take a step toward him and try to form a coherent sentence, but your tongue trips in the process. You don’t come up with much, but it’s an attempt.

“But, what about us, Harry? I love you!”

His body turns slowly to face you. He’s got his belongings in hand—the weathered notebook he keeps with him at all times, his keys (in a loop around his fingers)—and a sweater drapes itself over the crook of his elbow. Harry’s hands are full, but his eyes fail to show any sign of life.

“How do you know what love is, y/n?” He asks, tone dripping with doubt. “How do you know what that could possibly mean when you show yourself no love?”

His accusation holds the same comfort as burning your tongue on coffee. Stubbing your toe on the doorframe. A paper cut washed with soap.

When you fail to answer, Harry earns his final word in this argument.

“I can’t stay with someone who doesn’t love herself. I can’t fix you, y/n.”

Instantly, your chest floods cold. It’s an interesting sensation, as your cheeks run warm from anger while the rest of you ceases to function. You’re confident your heart fails to beat any longer; your lungs constrict like a snake around its prey.

“I’m done trying.”

Harry leaves you in the kitchen, the sounds of his boots echoing further and further away from where you stand. The front door shuts with a firm slam and serves as his ‘goodbye’.

You’re left standing in your spot, frozen as your thoughts race silently through your head. It feels like TV static buzzing in your ears and you can’t turn down the volume.

How is silence so deafening?

***

The phone sits in your hand as another /ping!/ sounds. It burns in your hand as you realize whose name sits above the few words on your screen.

Harry (7:54 PM): Y/n… Can we talk?

Your mouth tastes of pennies and you relax your jaw, grimacing at the now-sore part of your lip imprinted by your teeth. The red “2” shines angrily from its spot at the bottom of your phone. With a sigh, you tap on the square and reveal a text-thread you wish you never have to read again.

The blue and grey boxes hold words and emotions from days ago and, in your separation from them, you’re unprepared for the visceral reaction deep within your chest. Your heart drums underneath the cage of your ribs, constant, but worried. Like it knows something you don’t.

Feelings are pushed to the wayside and you begin to type back a response.

You (7:58 PM): Sure.

The grey “typing” bubble appears almost instantly after yours delivers. /He’s been waiting for you to respond/ you realize.

Harry (7:58 PM): It’s such a relief to hear from you, y/n.

Harry (7:59 PM): I miss you.

Grey’s Anatomy plays across the room from you, another heated argument on-screen, but it is drowned out by the thudding of your heart. It’s working in overdrive now.

For days, you did nothing but attempt to forget Harry’s existence: his clothes sat in a pile at the bottom of your closet (despite the overwhelming urge to pull that grey jumper over your shoulders at this moment); your mirror sits bare now that the polaroids of you both are nowhere to be found; his favorite coffee mug, along with his small collection of shot glasses and a teacup with the matching spoon, have been packed away and sit in a small cardboard box beside your kitchen counter.

Your apartment has been picked apart, day by day, to rid Harry of the space. It feels impossible, though, with how much time he spends (spent?) here.

Another text pops up:

Harry (8:07 PM): Y/n, are you there? I really want to make this right.

“Ugh!” you groan, loud enough to make Bean stir from her spot. “Sorry, baby, I’m just…”

Just what? you think to yourself. Just… Frustrated? Confused? Hurt?

Bean nudges your elbow with her tiny head, rubbing against your arm to try and earn some affection. You reach behind her ears and scratch small circles until she begins to purr. It’s hard to focus on anything present right now; you find yourself mulling over things from weeks ago. Swept up in memories once sweet now stab at your heart with a vengeance reserved for the most heinous of crimes.

There was the date at sunset in the park, complete with a chilled bottle of prosecco to celebrate your graduation and a slice of pie from the bakery down the road. The time he surprised you at work with balloons, a bouquet of peonies and eucalyptus (your favorites), and a stupid grin of his face “Just Because”. Remember when Harry decided to decorate your entire apartment for Valentine’s Day because you’d mentioned in passing no one had ever done anything for that holiday growing up, and it was your favorite? There were roses everywhere; Bean had a pink bow on her head, and Harry insisted on baking a heart-shaped cake.

Why did something so seemingly perfect cut even deeper on second thought?

You sigh again, shaking your head at the phone.

“What do I do, Bean?” She chirps in response and you let out a single laugh. “You have it so much easier, you know? No boys to break your heart, no job to take up all of your time.”

You pick her up and hold her in front of you, leaning forward to rest your forehead against hers. Her sandpaper-tongue brushes over your nose and she meows again.

“Okay, sorry.” You put her down and she curls up in your lap, purring against your stomach.

Things move in slow-motion as you think, and you’re not entirely sure how much time has passed. Phone in hand, your fingers anxiously hover over the screen and anticipate a string of words. Each time, though, they feel wrong, and you delete the entire thing.

”I just want to make things right.”

It feels like an internal battle to decipher what Harry means with this pleading. There’s a part of you who wants nothing to do with him, another who desperately wants him back, and the most confusing part, who feels like you were the one in the wrong here. Love is a tumultuous thing; intense, passionate. It feels utterly terrifying in the simplest of ways. Was your lack of self-love really what caused such an uproar in the first place? Had you been blind to your own hatred this whole time?

A knock at the door interrupts your ponderings.

Bean looks up suddenly, ears flickering at the noises from the hall. She jumps from your lap and runs to the dining table, hiding behind its oak legs. You can hardly see her, only the glimmering green of her eyes as they move to survey the apartment.

It takes minimal thought to figure out who stands on the other side of the door and you aren’t sure if it’s wishful thinking or fear of confrontation.

You stand and cautiously approach the hall, legs more like jell-o than limbs. Another knock sounds and the hair on your arms stands on end. This feels like a scene from a horror film; ominous. In attempts to steady your breathing, you don’t reach for the door at first, knowing full-well who stands on the other side.

The floor creaks underneath your right foot, and you swear under your breath. A quick “shit!” before you remember why you’re being so timid in the first place. A grimace crosses your face in wait.

Harry sighs from outside the door. “Y/n, I know you’re right there.”

You don’t say anything and instead look through the peep-hole. His face looks defeated, eyes searching the door for you as if he knows your every move.

“Can we please talk?”

The doorknob seemingly glows in response to his suggestion, simply begging for your touch. It feels entirely wrong to refuse conversation with the boy who, for the past few years, so gingerly held your heart and cared for you more than any family member could have.

He just wants to talk, you remind yourself. A quick talk.

You twist the lock on the knob, a metallic “yes” answering him instead of your own words. Next is the deadbolt, then the chain. The knob feels heavy in your hand as you turn it, but there isn’t any going back now.

Light floods into your apartment from the common hall, accompanied by the stale smell of cigarette smoke. Harry moves only his gaze to meet yours.

“Hi.”

You swallow before answering and realize how tightly you’d been holding your jaw the entire time. “Hi.”

His hands are in his pockets, and, illuminated by the harsh fluorescents of the hallway, he should have looked intimidating. But his shoulders hung low and his eyes were unsure.

Clearly neither of you were ready for this.

“Can I…” Harry starts.

You gesture forward, backing up against the door and allow him to enter.

He hesitates slightly before moving into the entryway, hovering for just a moment. The stiffness in Harry’s shoulders fades slightly as the door shuts behind you but the tension in his presence only increases.

Harry turns to face you, and, against your best interests, seconds pass as minutes. Slowly enough to study over his eyes; shadowy in the dim lighting of your hallway but ever still green. They invite you in like a warm mug of coffee after a chilling walk home from work and you find yourself biting back a grin. It all feels wrong, having him so close.

But, the heart wants what the heart wants, right?

“Can I?” He asks, more succinctly this time.

You nod a single nod, stepping a single step closer. He reaches forward to cup your chin in his hand, tipping your gaze up at his for just a second. That same emerald draws you in just like moments before, a safe embrace. 

A welcome home. 

Harry stays like this for just a moment more before dropping his hand, a sigh leaves his lips. You’re disheartened at the buildup leaving just as quickly as it’d come on. 

“So about that text...” you laugh. He shares a laugh, too, but there’s a hint of pain in his tone. 

You anticipate they’ll be a lot more hurt tonight.

***

feel free to let me know what you thought! this is just a little piece and it’s been fun to work back into the writing scene <3 

[justahopelessssromantic]

My Bad!

A/N: @mayans-girl I’m so sorry I lost your request as I stupidly deleted the post to resubmit it after I was having difficulties with the site. Regardless here it is for your request for another member hitting on you and Coco gets pissed. Thank you so much for the request I hope you enjoy and a big thank you to everyone for reading! ❤️

Also shout out to my twinnie @starrynite7114! Thank you so much for helping me brainstorm and work out the idea. You truly inspire and motivate me everyday! 💕

*gif not mine*

Warming: Angst and some fluff

The music was thumping around the clubhouse as one of the famous Mayans MC parties was in full swing. The place was packed with members from charters all over who came by to celebrate Santo Padre’s charter’s rise to the top.

You had just split off from your Old Man to find yourself a drink leaving him to chat with Oscar from the Stockton charter. Weaving through the people you smiled at the familiar faces when your phone buzzed from the back pocket of your tight jeans. Slipping it out you stopped and leaned against the railing of the steps that led into the clubhouse making sure that you were off to the side and out of the way.

Your phone lit up with a new message from your half brother Miles. You haven't seen him in forever and tried your best to find him throughout the years with no such luck. The two of you had been seperated after the death of your father, thrust into the system to fend for yourselves. Now after so many years later he had found you and reached out.

You practically raised him growing up. Your mother's were no shows throughout your lives leaving you with your drunk of a father. You didn't blame them for leaving him but you did always resent them for leaving their children alone with that man. You did everything in your power to protect him from your father's rage, help him in his schooling, to keep him alive. You were the mother he never had and the mother you never got.

You smiled reading the message from him saying he couldn’t wait to see you again tomorrow. You were so excited and had a day full of events planned out for your reunion. Coco knew how important this meeting was for you and was even helping you make all the arrangements. He was just as excited to meet the brother he had only heard childhood tales about but most importantly he was happy for you to have your family back. Just like him you had had it rough. If anyone deserved some sliver of real family to hold on to it was you.

You sent back a quick ‘me too’ before slipping the phone back into its resting place. Whipping around the railing you bounded up the stairs and into the building in search of that drink you were after in the first place. The room was filled with people, it seemed as if literally every Mayan was here as the whole place was just bursting at the seams with men in the leather cuts and then on top of it you had the friends and families of members all there as well. You made your way through the cloud of smoke, past the table where Bishop and Taza were involved in a round of poker blowing them a kiss and sending them a wink before sliding up to the bar. You landed on a simple beer smiling and thanking Chucky before heading towards the back hoping to sneak out where it would certainly be a little less packed and quiet to catch some air.

Slipping in and out of the crowds rather smoothly, this wasn’t your first rodeo, you were just about to your destination when an unknown man from the Spokane charter who was leaning against the wall caught your attention.

“If I knew the woman in Santo Padre were as sexy as you I would have stopped by a long time ago,” He grinned bringing his lit cigarette up to his lips inhaling deeply before blowing the smoke out towards you as his eyes raked up and down your figure.

You rolled your eyes internally giving him a tight lips smile. One of the problems with big events such as these was that not everyone knew who you were. At least at the smaller gatherings it was well known that you were Coco’s Old Lady and he, your Old Man. You were just about to correct the man opening your mouth when he practically shushed you. Now you were pissed.

“Nah baby,” he purred, “Save that pretty little voice for all the screaming I’ll be having you doing tonight.”

You scrunched up your eyebrows looking to the ground as you gathered your thoughts. Bringing your head back up you tilted it slightly crossing your arms with your beer up, “Does that line ever work? Like do some girls actually respond well to that, to you?”

“Careful what you say bitch,” he snarled, pushing off the wall as you crushed his ego with your few words. Most men were the same as him, insecure and trying to make up for their tiny packages with tough guy acts. “Do you even know who I am?”

You scuffed snickering as you kept your gaze dead on his eyes not backing down as he got in your face, “Do you even know who I am?” You asked with just as much arrogance as him, “I’m Johnny Coco Cruz’s fucking Old Lady. Yeah the man who could put a bullet through your brain even in this crowded room without you even knowing what’s coming.” You smirked as you saw the realization and fear flash in his eyes before he recovered quickly. “You’re lucky he can’t kill one of his own,” you continued with a threatening tone, “Now I suggest you call it a night before that pretty little voice of yours gets you in any more trouble.” You took a swig of your beer all while remaining uncomfortable eye contact with him before spinning around and heading out the back door as you were intending on in the first place when that jackass so disrespectfully interrupted you.

You were staring at the screen of your phone, your now empty bottle sat on a pile of cinder blocks beside you as you scrolled through your feed more annoyed than anything now. You hated when drunk assholes hit on you but it was even worse when it was one of Coco's brothers even one from another charter.

Miles saw you standing there with your back turned to him. He chuckled to himself as he snuck up behind you. He knew you'd be here as he knew you were dating a member from the Santo Padre charter but he wanted to surprise you with his new cut. You were his rock growing. Everything you sacrificed for him wasn’t lost on him. More than anything he wanted to make you proud.

Sneaking behind you, the jumper cabled your sides just like he had when you were young. You helped jumping away from the shock causing your phone to slip from your grasp and onto the hard rocks beneath you. Bending over you cursed under your breath picking it up and dusting off the screen. Straightening up you whipped around expecting to find Coco fully ready to tear him a new one. Your mouth dropped as you found your not so little anymore younger brother, not Coco, standing there before you. He had changed so much throughout the years but you still recognized those dark eyes of his and could picture those chubby cheeks he had.

"Oh my God," you gasped out, "Miles?" You instinctively pulled him into your arms hugging him tight, "What the hell are you doing here?" You asked, pulling back just enough to give yourself a better look at the man he had become, "And what's this?" You asked, pulling at his cut, "You're prospecting?" You grinned meeting his eyes once more. You were so incredibly proud of him.

“Yeah, Spokane charter,” he replied proudly, “You look really good.”

“And you look so…. big,” you laughed still shocked by the sudden surprise.

“Well I’m not that eleven year old kid anymore.” He chuckled, taking you in just as much as you did him. The moment seemed so unreal, almost as if it was a dream.

“Shit I have to pee,” you said feeling all your drinks hit your bladder seemingly at once, “Don’t go anywhere. I will be right back.” You scurried off in the direction you came from stealing one more glance back to check that he really was there before heading into the door to find the bathroom.

Coco was shooting the shit with Angel, Gilly, Creeper and various members from all over as they had a smoke. The sky above was dark, almost back with the stars sparkling like diamonds as a cool breeze blessed them with some relief from the usually unbearable heat.

One of the men from the Yuma charter approached the group directing his words straight to Coco, “Hey man some fucker from the Spokane charter was hitting on your girl hard. Being real disrespectful. She shut him down but I thought you should know. So you can set him right.”

Coco threw his cigarette to the ground stomping it under his boot. Patting the man on the shoulder as he stomped past he thanked him ready to find that asshole with Angel, Creeper, and Gilly on his tail.

He made his way into the clubhouse asking around when someone pointed him in the direction of the back. He knew that was your favorite place to go to get some solace during hectic events such as this. From what it sounded like the man was out there with you ruining your peace and Coco wasn’t having that.

Busting through the door he met eyes with the prospect from the Spokane charter. He was leaning against the fence beer in hand. Now Coco was fuming. A fucking prospect had disrespected his Old Lady. The kid had a lot of learning to do but he couldn’t do it here, he had to take him to the ring, do it right and use him as an example for any other fucker who thought they could talk to his woman like that.

“Yo prospect! I heard you were saying some real nasty shit to my Old Lady,” Coco snarled, stepping down the steps slowly Angel and Creeper close behind as Gilly stayed by the door.

Miles looked at him confused. He had talked to a lot of women during the night but couldn’t recall flirting with a single one of them. He was mostly too busy being ordered around and given chores. “Look man I don’t know what you’re talking about. I think you have the wrong-”

“I suggest you stop talking,” Creeper interrupted him standing next to Coco, “You ain’t getting yourself out of this now.”

“Come on prospect,” Coco spat out, “We settle this in the fucking ring.” Gilly came down the steps meeting up with Creeper and taking the prospect with them towards the ring giving him no room to protest.

Coco looked over at Angel, “Find my girl. Let her know what’s up,” he requested of his best friend, “She’s not gonna wanna miss this,” he smirked. Giving each other a nod Coco set off in the direction of the cage ready to kick some ass.

“Yo (Y/N),” Angel called out, swaggering up to you exhaling a puff of smoke as you excited the clubhouse to the back expecting to find your brother, “I’ve been looking all over for you. If we don’t hurry we’re gonna fuckin’ miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“Coco’s getting in the ring. Gonna show that asshole who was hitting on you his place.”

That must have been where your brother went, to watch the fight. You grinned at Angel, happy someone had noticed and that the guy hadn’t listened to you hanging around despite your warning. “Well what the hell are we standing around here for then?”

Following his lead the two of you headed towards the ring. You loved the cage, your favorite part of these parties was watching the fights, and you especially loved watching your Old Man get in the ring. Something about watching him take out another, bare chested with his tats on full display, covered in sweat and blood really turned you on. To top it off he’d be giving that asshole a good beating. Let’s just say Coco was going to be a very lucky man tonight.

The sound of the crowds cheering got louder and your adrenaline was pumping as you approached the ring. Angel shoved his way past the people gathered around making a perfect path to get you to the best spot. The fight was in full swing, you had missed the first portion of it and were a little disappointed but once you saw Coco and he made eye contact with you briefly a grin on his face you forgot all about it.

“Fuck him up!” You screamed eating up every moment, the smile never leaving your face. You turned your attention to the other guy and that’s when your smile fell as your eyes went wide. Coco wasn’t fighting the guy who was hitting on you earlier. He was fighting your fucking brother.

From what you could see Coco was in the lead, looking a little better than Miles. The two men were circling each other, arms up, waiting for the other to strike first. Leaning up against the cage you grabbed onto the metal calling out to Coco. Against his better judgment he turned to look at you expecting to find your gorgeous smiling face but instead was met with your terrifying scowl.

“That’s not the guy,” You screamed at him over the noise. He furrowed his brow looking at you.

“What the hell do you mean?”

“That’s my fucking brother!”

Turning back to face his opponent he could now see the resemblance although it was too little too late. While he was distracted your brother took the opportunity swinging a brutal right hook to Coco’s jaw the moment he turned back around.

The crowd erupted in cheers and jeers. The men who had bet on Coco clearly disappointed in the events that played out before them.

You gasped watching him fall to the ground wincing along with him from the hit. He looked up making eye contact with you glaring as he rolled his jaw spitting out blood.

You grimaced giving him your best apologetic look as you yelled out, “My bad!”

That night you ended up starting your family plans early with you patching up both men in your living room. Letty was so kind to assist you working on Coco while you took care of Miles. You all chatted getting to know one another bonding over the events of the night. Thankfully there were no hard feelings all around from the misunderstanding.

“You got quite the fuckin’ right hook, hermano,” Coco complimented Miles as he held an ice pack to his jaw.

“Yeah he really did a number on you Coco,” Letty teased as she pulled out an alcohol wipe from the first aid kit.

“Hey I had the fight up until (Y/N) distracted me,” he chuckled smiling at you, “I guess I learned where your real loyalty lies.”

You shook your head laughing lightly as you began stitching up your brother, “Blood is blood,” you teased back playing along.

Miles chuckled along hissing as you stitched up the cut on his cheek, “Thanks man, you throw a mean one yourself.” He flinched away hissing some more as you reached the middle of the cut, “Clearly.”

“Stay still,” you scolded leaning in closer to get a better view.

“What do you say next time we take down that fucker together,” Coco suggested as

Letty dabbed at his face causing him to wince.

“Deal.” Miles grinned. He liked Coco. He was a good match for you and had seen first hand just how far he was willing to go in your defence. All he ever wanted for you was someone to defend you and take care of you like you had for him all those years.

“Excuse me but I think I handled him just fine,” you said interjecting on their plans. It had already been tried once and this is where it ended, with your brother and man beating each other to a pulp.

“Of course you did mami,” Coco smirked over at you as he lit a joint taking a drag and passing it to Miles, “But just imagine the damage the two of us could cause.” He said exhaling.

Rolling your eyes you finished the last stitch to your brother’s face before perching down by Coco on the ground and settling between his legs. He wrapped his arms around you resting his head on your shoulder. Miles passed the joint to Letty as she sat next to him. Leaning forward she completed the round passing it to you and then lounging back on the sofa. You took a hit yourself giving Coco another one as well.

The four of you spent the rest of the night sharing stories and catching up. The conversation flowed easily as most of the time you all had smiles on your face. This was your happy place, just hanging out with your family, whole once more. You snuggled closer into Coco feeling his chest rise and fall with each breath that tickled your neck as you listened to your brother and Letty discussing their favorite shows. Closing your eyes you relaxed enjoying the feeling of home.

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