#prev tags from younger me>>>

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

taking suggestions for a lonan and harrison's favourite movies list!!!!! preferably 2006 & before!!! any genre!!!!!

[max-the-hecker]

Omg and I never considered the flip side until this screenshot. 😭

finding out danny phantom fans are sick of dc/batman crossovers clogging THEIR tags is frying me idk why I never considered that. we are in the same damn boat omg

[absinthe-over-tea]

either way it's gonna || the pitt

pt 3 <<prev • next>>

pairing: jack abbott x f!resident!reader warnings: age gap (older man/younger woman), allusions to child abuse, suicide/drug overdose, canon-typical death a/n: Shit's about to get just a little✨messy✨. I've been legit floored by the response to this story so far. Thanks to everyone who's along for the ride with me on this. Pls let me know if you'd like to be added to the tag list! Not beta read.

Everyone knew. Heather wouldn’t tell anyone about your work crush on an attending, and you certainly hadn’t told anyone else. But somehow, everyone seemed to know. Not only about your incredibly embarrassing and continually growing feelings for your attending, but there was also something else. It felt like you were consistently on the outside of a joke everyone else was privy to.  

It started with a raised eyebrow from Perlah after a standard intubation. Dr. Abbot had poked his head in looking for Robby, but ended up sticking around until you’d stabilized the patient. 

“You know I always appreciate the assist, but you didn’t have to stay. I had it under control.” 

“You always do,” he mused, that small ‘proud teacher’ smile on his face morphing into one of apology. He started to step back toward the door. “I didn’t mean to intrude.” 

“You didn’t!” you rushed to say, maybe a little too quickly. You took a breath before continuing, trying to recover some semblance of nonchalance. “But I know you were looking for Robby, so…” 

“Right, yeah, I should go, uh, find him for handoff. He wasn’t on the roof when I checked.” 

“I saw Gloria hovering earlier. Maybe check that surgical on-call room he thinks we don’t know he uses to hide in.” 

You both chucked, and he nodded in agreement. He hung in the doorway for an extra second, like maybe he wanted to say something else. But then his eyes darted to Perlah, who was extremely focused on the vent settings, and with a final tap to the door jam, he was gone. 

When you turned back to the patient to do a final vitals check before paging the ICU and moving on to the next case, Perlah was giving you a look. 

“What?” 

She shook her head, a grin plastered across her face. “Nothing.” She mumbled something in Tagalog under her breath on her way out of the room, and you made a mental note to ask Santos what the word ‘bobo’ meant. 

A few nights later, Myrna cornered you as you were leaving after your shift. 

“You’re not slick, sweet cheeks” 

“Excuse me?” you all but choked on the drink of water you’d just taken from your Hydroflask. 

“I saw you, checking out Dr. Abbot when he walked by earlier. You were checking out his ass!” Her voice was filled with mirth, but the volume made your eyes go wide. For the love of God, you hoped no one had heard her. 

“I was doing no such thing, Myrna!” 

“If you don’t climb that man like a tree, I will,” she warned. 

“You go ahead and try,” you laughed, giving her an encouraging thumbs up and taking backward steps away from her as quickly as possible to escape further interrogation. It’s a very good thing for everyone involved that Dana had cuffed her to her wheelchair that evening. 

Two weeks later, and it felt like all eyes were on you every time that you and Dr. Abbot were in the same vicinity. 

“There’s a pool,” Samira kindly informed you one morning, both of you looking at the board with thermoses in hand. You’d grumbled under your breath about people having a staring problem after noticing multiple sets of eyes glued to your brief and perfunctory hello exchanged with Dr. Abbot on his way out the door. 

“I’m sorry, what?” 

“There’s a betting pool on what’s going on between you and Dr. Abbot. I think just between the nurses right now — they’ve been trying to keep it from Collins since everyone knows you two are friends.” 

“That feels… wildly inappropriate,” you said eventually. 

Samira laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “It is. But you know how the gossip mill is around here. And Dr. Abbot’s been around more since you joined. Coming in a little earlier at night, doing handoff with Robby a few minutes later. It has people intrigued.” 

Her admission had the gears turning long after she’d excused herself before Robby could give her shit for staring at the board for too long. There were a million explanations for the supposed change in behavior. Maybe Robby asked him to start being around more to help during the transition of you settling after Langdon’s departure. Heather had said she’d been more worried about Robby since PittFest, maybe he felt the same and was around more to keep tabs on his friend. 

But there was a little voice in your head that hoped maybe it had something to do with you. 

It was all very disorienting. You were not this person — confused over whether some guy did or didn’t like you, reading into every casual touch and slightly-too-long-to-be-accidental stretch of eye contact, having inappropriate thoughts about a superior at work. 

You liked to keep work and your personal life in two very neat boxes. It keeps things from getting messy, and it helps you compartmentalize. That way, you don’t take out your frustrations with your mom or a rough night on your patients, and you don’t bring the bad days when you lose more patients than you save to Sunday brunch with your childhood best friend who just got engaged. 

Admittedly, The Pitt had already blurred those lines in more ways than one. Your close friendship with Heather, the girls' nights out with Samira, Santos and Garcia, the farmer’s market runs with Mel before baking with her and her sister.

But crossing a line into anything more than colleagues with Dr. Abbot felt infinitely more dangerous. Maybe the betting pool was wrong and it was just a coincidence that he was around a little bit more than before. Maybe they were right and he also felt whatever this was between them. 

Ultimately, it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to happen. The lines were drawn, and you were happy to keep things exactly as they were.  

Of course, you should have known that as soon as you’d decided that, universe would find a way to flip you a middle finger. 

*** 

When Jack stopped by the nurse’s station before finding Robby for handoff, Dana gave him an indecipherable look. 

“It’s been a rough day.” 

“They always are,” he murmured, more to himself than Dana. He went to pick up a tablet, but one of Dana’s hands reached out and covered his own. 

She told him about the college student who’d been brought in after her friend found her lying next to an empty bottle of pills after a big fight with her dad. How you and Robby got her intubated, but the hypoxia had already caused irreversible brain damage. How the girl’s father had come in and started screaming at you until Robby had restrained him and Dana had called security on him. The way you’d reacted after.

“I’ve never seen her shut down like that, and this is far from the worst loss she’s seen. I’m worried about her. And you know how Robby is with drug overdoses these days.” 

Robby took the drug cases harder ever since finding out about Langdon. Jack thought it had something to do with guilt over not seeing the signs sooner, the knowledge that had Santos not reported him, he could have ended up as an OD in one of their trauma rooms. 

But he swallowed hard at the thought of you beating yourself up over the case. It clearly wasn’t your fault. He assumed you must have been terrified by the thought of the patient’s father potentially getting aggressive with you, and he knows how that fear can shut you down, though he’s a little shocked at the idea of anything scaring you. To him, you always seemed somewhat fearless within the walls of a trauma room. 

He thanked Dana for the heads up and went to find Robby, assuming he’d be on the roof. But when he opened the door, his heart twisted with pure terror at the sight of you sitting there on the railing, too close to the edge for comfort.

You didn’t turn to look at him, though he knew you had to have heard the door. He tried to make his steps loud enough for you to hear him coming closer, not wanting to startle you. You didn’t even look at him as he came to stand next to you, just blankly staring ahead. 

“Y’know, you’re sort of in my spot,” he said lamely, grasping for anything to break the silence. To pull your gaze to him instead of whatever fixed point you’d chosen on the skyline. 

You shrugged. “You and Robby always come up here after a rough day. Figured I’d see what the fuss was about.” 

“Be sure to leave a Google Review.” It was a stupid joke, but you huffed in what was almost a laugh. He took it as a good sign. 

“You don’t have to talk about it,” he promised as he gently wrapped a hand around your wrist where it sat next to you on the railing. “But can you do me a favor and come back to this side of the railing?” 

Your gaze shifted first to where your hands met, then to Jack’s face. He’d tried his best to sound casual, not let any of the worry seep into his voice, but the look you gave him confirmed he was unsuccessful. You nodded, easily swinging your legs around until your feet were back on what Jack considered safer territory. 

He let go of your wrist, but you reached out and grabbed onto his arm. “I wasn’t—I didn’t mean to scare you. I just…needed some air. Needed to breathe without the smell of antiseptic. Be somewhere that wasn’t the ED.” 

The relief that flooded through him was instant and overwhelming. He didn’t want to think too hard about what it meant. 

“I get that. And I meant what I said — you don’t have to talk about it. But if you need someone to talk to, someone who gets it, I’m always around to listen.” He leaned his head down, making sure you met his eyes as he spoke. 

“I’m usually good at holding it together, compartmentalizing. But it’s been harder lately,” you admitted, voice breaking at the end as you looked up at him, and fuck, Jack could see how hard you were fighting for control, trying to hold everything you were feeling at bay. He knew exactly what that felt like, and how destructive it could be when the dam finally broke. 

He couldn’t stop himself. “Come here,” he murmured softly, pulling you into his arms and holding you tight against his chest. “Let it out, sweetheart.” Your hands clutched onto the fabric of his scrubs, and he could feel the fight drain out of you as you let out a sob.

It occurred to him that this was something sacred, you trusting him like this. That when you’d needed comfort, you’d gone to the roof. His spot. Maybe it was subconscious on your part, but warmth filled him at the idea that you’d inadvertently gone searching for a piece of him.

You both stood there for God knows how long, him whispering into your hair as you fell apart. Assuring you it was alright, that he had you, that you were safe. 

Slowly, you came back to yourself. Your shoulders stopped shaking, your hands softened against his waist, your breathing returned to normal. He could have happily held you against him like that forever, protecting you from the world while you pieced yourself back together — patients and night shift handoff with Robby be damned. 

But eventually, you took one last deep breath and pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “Sorry,” you mumbled sheepishly. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” 

“You might need a new scrub top,” you nodded toward his chest, which was now sporting a wet spot from your tears. He just shrugged; he could honestly care less. “And I’m sure I look a right mess right now,” you joked weakly, disentangling one of your arms to wipe your nose with the long-sleeved shirt you had on under your scrubs. 

He allowed himself a rare moment to fully take you in, from your red-rimmed and glassy eyes to your flushed skin to the strands of hair now stuck to your cheeks. 

“You still look beautiful to me,” he whispered before his brain could remind his mouth why he wasn’t supposed to admit things like that out loud. Your eyes widened in surprise, darting back and forth between his in search of something. 

He hadn’t meant to tell you that, but Jack had always been a stubborn man. He wouldn’t take the words back now that they’d escaped. Instead, he forced himself to continue meeting your gaze, letting you see just how much he meant it and preparing himself for you to pull away and let him down easy. 

Except you didn’t pull away. He watched enraptured as your decision clicked into place in that pretty, brilliant head of yours, and you leaned up to press your mouth against his. 

The kiss was soft, quick. Before he even had a chance to fully process what you’d done, you were pulling back and waiting to see what his reaction would be. For a split second, you both just blinked at each other. 

“Jack,” you whispered, just loud enough for him to hear, the question in our voice, and his mouth crashed back into yours. 

This time, the kiss wasn’t soft or quick. It was messy, desperate. Months of pent up tension and swallowed feelings being let loose. One arm held you anchored against him while his other hand slid up your neck to angle your jaw just the way he wanted. “Say it again,” he demanded against your lips. 

You didn’t have to ask him what he meant. “Jack,” you gasped into his mouth, and he took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing your bottom lip. Your fingers dove into the hair at his neck, pulling yourself flush against him.  

Kissing you was all-consuming. Nothing existed except the two of you and this warmth taking root in Jack’s chest that he hadn’t felt in so long. He wanted to drown in the taste of you. He wanted the world to stop spinning so he could stay on this roof, this god-forsaken roof that might now be one of his favorite places on earth, forever.

The door to the roof banged open, and you both broke apart at the sound. Robby was standing frozen in the doorway. 

You pulled away from him like you’d been burned. “I’m so sorry, I have to go.” 

Before Jack could fully process what was even happening, you’d slipped past Robby and disappeared back down the stairs without so much as a backwards glance.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list: @brnesblogposts @nosebeers

[kquil]

DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER FIVE

05 : SIRIUS : FIRST DAY

CHPT. SUM. : Sirius goes to Hogwarts and his sorting causes a stir at school and at home.

LENGTH : 11.8k

TAGS : fluff ; hurt/comfort ; marauders origins dob ver. ; friendship beginnings ; mini-therapy session with the sorting hat ; regulus being a cutie ; sirius finding his place ; regulus needs a hug ; first day at hogwarts ; orion being the worst husband and father ever ; momma bear reader ; not canon compliant

← PREV. | 04 : BEGINNINGS | SERIES M.LIST

1st September 1971

Sirius smiles faintly at his younger brother, the two of them separated by the window of the Hogwarts Express. For a moment, all of the excitement that had been bouncing around in his stomach suddenly compressed into a weighted ball of anxiety. Hogwarts was going to be a fun, new adventure, you had reassured him of such that morning, however, seeing Regulus looking up at him through the window made his stomach drop into an unknown abyss.

"Take care, Siri," Regulus smiles toothily, having to tilt his chin up to see his older brother better. He didn't want to forget a single detail about how his brother looked. It was an unreasonable fear but Regulus was scared stiff over forgetting a single thing about his older brother.

"'Course! You take care too, Reg," Sirius looks up at you for a moment but you don't meet his eyes, seemingly distracted by something that catches your eye in the crowd, "I know Mother is different now but I'm worried about you..."

Shocked by his brother's concern, Regulus feels a small urge to look over his shoulder and observe you in the hopes that the swelling of apprehension in his stomach can settle, somewhat. It's easy to trust you now but it's also just as easy to fall back on being guarded, for his own self-protection — with Sirius gone, his only brother, who often acts as his shield and protector, fear is one stray, all-consuming thought away from devouring them both. They've never been without the other for any extended period of time. This was going to be a first.

"I know..." Regulus nervously tugs on the hem of his sleeves, trying to ground himself with the action, "but I don't think she'll change back... and besides, I have Kreacher," Sirius' lips pull into a thin line. Yes, he's started getting along with the house elf a lot better recently, mainly due to Regulus and his mother's influence but Sirius knows the truth. If Kreacher was ever forced to choose between Regulus and his mother, Kreacher would pick you, the Matriarch of the Black family. His little brother is too naive and soft-hearted for his own good.

"Write to me if anything goes wrong, okay?" Regulus only nods before they silently decide to let go of the tense subject and, at least, part on a lighter note, "I promise I'll write to you about everything that happens, I won't miss a single detail!" the two grin at each other, "By the time I come back, you'll be an expert about Hogwarts and you won't be fumbling around and making mistakes like me on your first year,"

A sharp whistle tears through the air and the brothers share a tearful look before Regulus rushes back to cling onto your skirt, the both of you keeping your eyes solely on Sirius whose heart can't stop clenching — in distress or excitement, he cannot fathom what the emotion behind it all is. In the distance, he watches his mother's lips move to form the words 'I love you'. It's like she's whispering it to him, loving and kind and full of warmth, like the wonderful mother she's suddenly become. Just one month... he wishes you had been whispering that endearment to him for longer than that.

Despite his worries about what may happen to Regulus in his absence, Sirius meets your eyes with a smile and whispers an 'I love you' back. Deep in his chest, his heart settles in content, happy and blissfully optimistic over your disposition. Your eyes hold such bountiful amounts of love, that he feels slightly ashamed for thinking the worst of you. There's no way you would dare lay a hand on Regulus the way you used to, in a cruel means to elicit 'appropriate' behaviour. Not when you adored cuddling him so much, not when you adored pressing soft kisses into his head of curls, not when you catered to his preferences for every meal ever since that fateful day, and especially not when you would always be the first to step in between him and their father during every irate spat.

The train begins to move away from the platform, leaving you and his brother behind but Sirius occupies his seat unworried. His little brother and mother are good with each other. They're perfectly fine. Looking around him, Sirius observes the completely empty compartment aside from himself.

As the train journey continues, he stays alone. Anyone who pops their head in immediately turns away at the sight of him, fumbling with the half-hearted excuse of already having found an empty cabin elsewhere. He almost rolls his eyes at their behaviour. His family was feared for their status and 'etiquette' but that didn't mean he was the same, he was still a kid. Then again, those who peaked in were kids too...

This was going to be a long journey.

James Potter wasn't one to waste time, he was a doer. So when he finds himself unable to find a free cabin along with another two blokes, both rather shorter than him, one with brown hair, who's swamped under a grandpa sweater while the other adorns sandy-blonde locks and a neatly pressed polo shirt with slightly tattered ends, he takes charge. He leads them from one end of the train to the other, all in the search for a free cabin. The hunt was looking bleak at first but that was another thing about James Potter, he wasn't one to easily give up... even when the only cabin that seemed available was the one occupied by Sirius Black.

"Do you mind if we sit with you?" James asks, trying to mask his tense attitude towards the pureblood wizard, "It's full everywhere else,"

"Go ahead," Sirius smiles with a slight tension to his shoulders as well, gesturing to the empty seats around him. James sits directly opposite Sirius with Peter beside him, while Remus takes the seat opposite Peter and beside Sirius. It appears as though Peter knows who Sirius is and Remus is completely oblivious, his polite but blithe smile directed at the Black family firstborn being the main indicator.

"I'm James Potter," James finally introduces, confident and with his chest. The three greet him back before introducing themselves in return. The round, sandy-blonde bloke was Peter Pettigrew, the brunette dressed like a grandpa was Remus Lupin and the last of them, neat as a pin with paper-pale skin, sharp features and shiny black hair was Sirius Black but most people already knew that.

"Aren't you part of that really old pureblood family?" Remus mentions cooly, as if not understanding the gravity of his question as a muggle-born (or half-blood, James doesn't know yet).

"Yeah," Sirius replies, not appearing too pleased with the observation and remains quiet.

"You'll be in Slytherin then?" Peter blurts without knowing, catching himself only after he's voiced his invasive thought and claps his hands over his running mouth. Beneath his hands, Peter's cheeks glow a bright pink and he avoids all eye contact with everyone in the cabin, his limbs beginning to shake in fear the longer Sirius holds off on answering to his thoughts.

"I don't really want to end up there," Sirius shrugs and turns to stare out the window, perfectly happy to occupy himself with the passing scenery. He's fed up with everyone's judgemental attitude. Can't a single person give him a chance?! He isn't asking for the world!

James was shocked, "Really?!" it made him stammer how far he'd misjudged the Black family's first son.

"I'm not like the rest of my family,"

"Thank Merlin!" James dramatically sags his shoulders in relief before grinning toothily and leaning forward to clap Sirius over the shoulder, "I thought you'd be another dark pureblood prick with a stiff lip and no sense of humour,"

The tension is completely broken as soon as Sirius throws his head back and laughs without restraint, clutching his belly and shaking at the shoulders with mirth. Even Peter is relieved at Sirius' reaction, momentarily pausing in his frantic rummaging through his shoulder bag. Remus only seems to have realised the previous tension in the air from the dramatic shift it takes but continues smiling anyway, this time with more ease than before.

Sirius returns his grinning gaze to James, who mirrors his expression, "Not a prick and definitely not stiffed lip. Sense of humour, you'll have to find out later on," all those high society wizard dinners, events and soirees could have been spent in better company, James and Sirius realised. If only they dared to approach each other sooner, without their family's prejudices hanging over them, puppeteering their actions. They could have shared laughter, made fun of the boring atmosphere and become close friends. But regrets like these were minimal in the grand scheme of things. They had a full year at Hogwarts to make up for it and grow the friendship they'd missed out on.

It's then that Sirius' vision is suddenly invaded by Peter's outstretched hand and a singular, colourfully wrapped chocolate on his palm, "I'm sorry for speaking out like that," Sirius smiles and accepts the gift happily.

"You're not bad, Peter,"

Seemingly spurred on by Sirius' show of forgiveness and kindness, Peter launches into a joke he had memorised for the sake of calming his nerves at the thought of struggling to make any friends, "Hey, so why do you think toddlers are so bad at magic?"

His statement seems to be taken seriously by the three boys at first as they ponder thoughtfully for a moment. But ultimately, with no answer in mind, they shake their heads and look to the portly bloke for the solution.

"Why?" Remus prompts.

"Because they can't spell!"

It was a bad joke, so bad that Remus released a small giggle while James and Sirius laughed boisterously, more so at Peter's expectant expression than the joke itself. They couldn't believe that he thought that joke would land well but his eagerness to elicit laughter was all they needed to lose themselves in the merriment. The four of them quickly dive into meaningless but fun conversations, sometimes splitting off into conversing pairs before returning to speak as a group again. Remus tended to be quiet and leaked a more nervous disposition than others whereas Peter eagerly tried to partake in whatever conversation was around, trying to land more jokes and input his opinion wherever, even if the mismatch of tone and timing wasn't always ideal. James and Sirius were the most enthusiastic and smoothly went from one subject to the next, it was a seamless river of constant conversation that was occasionally interrupted by chewing on the delicious treats carted over by the trolley lady, as well as the need for easy silence — a necessary, trouble-free pause.

Hours passed like this and eventually, an older prefect was knocking on their compartment door to peek in and ask that they change into their school robes.

"We'll be arriving soon,"

Everyone's robes were black and didn't adorn any of the Hogwarts house colours. For now, they were a small group of friends, eagerly awaiting their new chapter of life to begin.

Sirius stood on the edge of the lake as a deep sense of anticipation churned within him, replacing the excitement evoked by getting dressed on the train. Pulling on those robes and seeing his mother's capricious but careful stitches brought a realness to the situation — he was going to be attending the most prestigious wizarding school in all of England. It felt surreal but oh so tangible from where he stood.

The small boats that would ferry the many first years across to Hogwarts bob gently in the water before them, each one enchanted to move with a simple command. Beside him, Remus, James and Peter also look forward with James appearing to be the only one still in possession of his earlier eagerness. The journey to Hogwarts was incredibly long and, by now, it was already nighttime. There was a chill in the air as the sky draped over them, coloured in the deepest twilight hue with a scattering of stars spread across it. Looming ahead was the prodigious silhouette of Hogwarts Castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched up, trying to pierce the sky as its many windows were alit with a golden glow from within — inviting and warm and magical. Once again, the excitement was back...

It appears as though the constant fight between his enthusiasm and terror of the unknown will be giving him unsteady feet and fidgeting hands for the rest of the night.

Rubeus Hagrid, the half-giant gamekeeper and groundskeeper steps into a boat with his rusty, incandescent lantern and encourages the first years to follow along behind him. Everyone was to be seated in one of the many boats as a group, some as strangers, some as newly made friends. Luckily Sirius had already found his group of friends and they were one of the first to follow along behind the half-giant. Peter was a bit scared to step into the boat but with some encouragement and light teasing, they were soon setting sail with everybody else.

"See? It's not so bad, is it, Peter?" James grins, catching sight of the sandy blonde's entranced expression as he gazes into the lake's glimmering, moonlit waters.

"We don't even need to paddle," Sirius shares a look with James and the two grin widely.

Peter musters a taut smile and nods, attempting to calm his racing heart. He seems to finally find some comfort in the glittering waters below them, "Y-yeah, not so bad,"

"Be careful not to lean too far over the edge though," Remus warns politely, "overtipping the balance might capsize the boat," Peter pales and hastily rights himself, earning a chuckle from everyone on board.

"Capsizing the boat, huh? What an adventure that will be!" James laughs brightly. He's a carefree spirit, one that Sirius can't help but be entranced by. Being around James is addictive. It's a new experience being in the presence of someone so opposite to his family's disreputable 'noble' ways. It's gotten a lot better because of his mother's recent change of heart but James is the type of person who elicits a lasting impression. Looking around the small boat they share, Sirius can tell that he's not the only one; Peter and Remus seem to be just as enchanted by the messy-haired boy's charm.

Steadily approaching Hogwarts makes the castle's colossal size more apparent. It's a massive, ancient structure that breathes with so much magic, that there's an evident vibration in the air surrounding it that makes the hairs on his skin stand up. Seeing the impressive castle in person was overwhelming but in the best way. A feeling of adventure begins to bubble in Sirius' lower belly and slowly begins to rise through him — a feverish anticipation for what he may get up to within its stone walls. It's a place where he can be truly free... finally. His mother's new attitude has been a solace and a comfort and has given him a small taste of what freedom was like but there was always the danger of his ill-tempered father. Here, Sirius feels as though he can finally, truly be free.

What a feeling...

Beneath the castle were a set of docks that the boats smoothly slid into. Hagrid was already out of his boat and holding his lantern up by the time they managed to reach him followed by the other first years. After clambering out of their buoyant vessels, Hagrid proceeds to lead everyone up a winding path, all the way up to the castle's front entrance. Its large front doors creak open and they were quickly ushered into the Entrance Hall. The vast space was cool but also warmed by the fire torches strategically placed about the perimeter, their dancing flames casting across the polished stone and giving rise to the first years' blended shadows. There's an apprehensive but electrifying buzz in the air as Hagrid bids them a temporary farewell, leaving them to a teacher.

Professor Minerva McGonagall is who she introduces herself as, the deputy headmistress and head of Gryffindor House. No wonder she was the one tasked with leading them into the Great Hall. She stands as a figure of authority and elegance.

McGonagall was not yet old. Her sharp, angular features were softened slightly by the subtle laugh lines framing her observant eyes — she isn't a stranger to smiling, though Sirius was finding it a little difficult to envision her with a grin. Her hair was a deep brown that pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck, with not a single strand out of place. Her meticulous appearance only added to the impression that she was someone who did not tolerate nonsense. And yet, there was something about her that made Sirius believe she wasn't just a disciplinarian. There was an underlying warmth to her, hidden by her strict exterior as a prestigious Hogwarts professor. It's a warmth that spoke of the deep affection and care held for her students. He could see it in her eyes the same way he saw it in his changed mother's eyes — although sharp, they seemed to soften ever so slightly when looking over the younger students.

Her robes were made of a rich and heavy fabric, a dark emerald green that was almost regal in its fashion when draping over her silhouette. She moved with a grace that tactically concealed the strictness in her demeanour, each step was purposeful and her posture remained impossibly straight — the kind that his previous etiquette teacher desperately tried to force upon him, with no such luck; he was too stubborn for his own good, and he had the faded welts to prove it.

"Behind these doors is the Great Hall. And it is where you shall be sorted into your houses. There are four: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin," she explains briefly, "I will call out your name and one by one, you shall be seated and sorted by the sorting hat before the student body. You shall then sit with your house where you will wait until everyone is sorted and then we can have the opening dinner," she spoke with a clear and precise voice that had a very slight Scottish lilt to it, making her spoken words crisp and authoritative. Her voice was similar to the one his mother once had, it was the kind that cut through the chatter of a room with ease, immediately silencing those she cast her unwavering gaze upon. His mother's voice has since become much warmer and gentler as of late. And, although such an imperious voice usually made Sirius stiffen up with alertness, McGonagall didn't prompt any sort of reaction from him. She embodied a form of discipline he was familiar with but there was something more to her, and she balanced those opposing features very well.

With that, McGonagall led the group of first years into the Great Hall. Above him, the ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky he had just witnessed on the boat across the Black Lake, however, instead of blinking, distant stars, the night sky of the Great Hall was illuminated by floating candles. Four long tables stretched and occupied a vast amount of space in the large room. Most of the chairs by the tables were predominantly occupied except for the ones closest to the front of the room, near where the teachers had their own table, gazing over the students and smiling fondly at the first years walking in for the first time, led by the deputy headmistress.

The many students that were already seated were dressed in similar black robes but had embellishments of differing colours, colours that differentiated them into their different houses, one red, another, blue, the other, yellow and finally green. The students' eyes eagerly followed the newcomers, the youngest in the large pond that was Hogwarts. To the front of the hall, there was a raised platform with a singular stool on it, where an old hat sat — the sorting hat.

Sirius's heart pounded violently against his chest as he assembled behind the stool with the rest of the first years. McGonagall stepped up to the left of the stool and was given a scroll of parchment that listed all the names of the first years who were to be sorted. Without wasting a second, she immediately began to call them out. It was in alphabetical order according to surnames so Sirius knew that he would be one of the first to be sorted. Nevertheless, the few that came before him had a very welcoming experience. It was simple enough. Once seated, the hat would be placed on their head and after some time or very little time at all, the hat's voice boomed through the hall, echoing its final and irrevocable decision of where the student should be housed. The student was then met with the loud and welcoming cheers of their fellow housemates, who eagerly beckoned them over to their table while the head of house clapped and smiled from their seat by the rest of the staff.

Sirius's hands clenched into tight fists as he waited. The tension paralysing his limbs was unbearable. He knew what was to be expected of him. Slytherin, like all the Blacks before him. But the thought of even joining that house, of being surrounded by the same cold, pureblood superiority that he had grown up with made his intestines knot themselves up and his stomach fall into a bottomless pit. However, inside him raged an inner battle... Sirius remembers the kind softness of his reformed mother, the vivid image appearing in his head along with the ghost of her warm embrace and loving kisses — he didn't want to disappoint her. He's been granted such happiness by her recently, he didn't want to have that stolen away from him all too suddenly because of his house sorting. He wouldn't know what to do if he should be faced with the familiar disappointment and rage in her eyes once more—

Suddenly, his name was called.

"Black, Sirius!"

Silence swept the hall as Sirius stepped forth. Hundreds of eyes lingered on him all judging and wondering and evident with the same supposition he had grown up with — Slytherin. He even saw some eyes drift away after the initial call of his name. It was as if they knew what would come of the sorting and felt he didn't need the assistance of the hat to be put in a house.

As Sirius climbed the steps and sat on the stool, bitterness over the expectation placed on him, not just by his family but by complete strangers too lit his heart ablaze with stubborn denial and renunciation of the elitist house. The hat decedent far enough to cover his eyes, done past his nose, blackening out the rest of the world as the hat's voice began to ring between his ears and within his mind.

"Ah, another Black," the hat mused thoughtfully, "But not— your mind is different, you, yourself are different, aren't you? Not like the other Blacks..." The statement from the hat makes Sirius' heart skip a beat and soar higher than the sky. It was a relief, a validation of his circumstance that he deeply yearned for without even knowing until that moment. He lets the words echo in his ears and hopes to permanently stamp them into his brain. "And you're happy about that are you?" the hat chuckles, somewhat, condescendingly at him, "But you're plenty cunning and ambitious too, much like your many kinsfolk," his heart stutters in his chest again, this time with dread. The hat's words steal his breath and make his mind race with alarm. There's a pause, the hat seeming to delight in Sirius' inner conflict, his scrambled mind being the perfect entertainment for the tattered garment, "And yet, it cannot be denied how different you are, also," Sirius calms ever so slightly, able to breathe again, "yes, brave... with a fierce independence. You want to prove yourself, that's very easy to tell, to be more than what they expect or is it merely petty disobedience?"

Sirius holds his breath once more.

"Well then," the hat says decisively, its voice doubling and suddenly coming from two places at once, "it better be... GRYFFINDOR!"

His irrefutable house placement was shouted aloud, the shock giving way to a momentary, extension of silence before the hall erupts into massive applause. Sliding out from under the hat's cone body, a broad grin splits across Sirius' face.

Gryffindor! Not Slytherin!

He rushes down the steps and hurries to the Gryffindor table, who cheer wildly and smile broadly at him becoming a member. They were happy, cheering and in celebration of him. The moment he sits down, he's immediately bombarded with congratulatory slaps on the back and introductions. A boy who looked a little older than him clapped him on the shoulder with a bright grin, "Welcome to Gryffindor, mate!"

"Thanks," Sirius replied, breathless from the experience. A weight had lifted from his shoulders. For the first time in his life, he was presented with solid evidence that he was nothing like his many other rotten family members, and it felt... incredible.

The sorting ceremony continued without pause and Sirius eagerly awaited for the sorting of the friends he had made on the train. Lupin, Remus a little while after him (Gryffindor). Pettigrew, Peter came soon enough (Gryffindor). Right after him, Potter, James was sorted (Gryffindor). All of them were sorted into the proud house of the lion, symbolising bravery and courage, their robes immediately donning scarlet and golden accents.

"What luck!" James expresses as soon as he sits by them again. They share a look, their eyes twinkling and their grins pinned high up on their youthful cheeks. To think that they would be in the same house after becoming friends on the train!

Curiously, Sirius glances back at the other tables, quickly skimming over the blues and yellows to land on green accents. The Slytherins pinned him with narrowed eyes, their expressions ranging from surprise to outright disdain. Their transparent judgement, however, was easy to ignore, he wanted nothing to do with them anyway. Instead, he focuses on his fellow Gryffindors, his found family at Hogwarts. These were his people now, and he was determined to prove himself worthy of the lion's crest on his chest.

The feast began shortly after the last student was sorted. The tables were filled with an array of food that made Sirius' mouth water. Roasted chicken, platters of mashed potatoes, steaming bowls of vegetables, and an assortment of pies and puddings appeared before him — all accumulating into a delicious combined fragrance. There was no hesitation when it came to piling his plate high with every dish his heart desired. The food looked delicious but...compared to the loving and hearty meals his mother had been cooking for him the past month, only the sheer amount he was able to consume was able to satiate him after the long journey. The carefully curated flavours and the touch of a mother's love weren't there anymore. He supposes not everything can be perfect. Thankfully, the atmosphere was alive with chatter and laughter, an infectious combination that distracted him easily.

The night wore on, the food slowly disappearing from the tables, and when many of the students were no longer occupied by their food the Headmaster finally saw it fit to make his welcoming speech. Albus Dumbledore rose from his place at the staff table, surrounded by his many other professor colleagues and calls for silence. Almost immediately, the room quieted and all eyes were trained on him.

"Welcome," Dumbledore begins, his voice ancient like a dust-covered book but amiable, "welcome to Hogwarts, to those of you who have just started, I hope that the reception was favourable. And to those returning, hopefully, you are just as thrilled to spend another year with us as we are. I trust that after the long journey and heartily filled bellies, you are all ready for bed." He raises an arm and prompts the rise of several older students donning embellished badges decorated with their house colours, "your prefects will be the ones to escort you to your dorms,"

A password is required to gain access to the Gryffindor common room where only Gryffindor students are allowed. The password this time is 'sola libertas' (solitary freedom). It was exciting like having a secret place nobody else was allowed into except Sirius and his many other Gryffindor brethren.

"Your dorm rooms would have already been assigned to you and your luggage, moved accordingly," the prefect begins telling the first years as the older students head to their respective dorms, already assigned to them in their first year. Sirius can't help but feel slightly anxious at the idea that he may have to depart from his already close group of friends. Looking around, Peter, Remus and James appear to share the same sentiment; at least he wasn't alone in that regard, "these shall be your dorm room assignments for your entire education at Hogwarts. The boys' dormitories are on the left, up the staircase and down, the girls are the same but on the right," Sirius would have eagerly taken in the aesthetics of his new house's common room if he wasn't so anxious about who he would be sharing a dorm with for his entire seven years at Hogwarts. Rushing up the left staircase and down another set, he quickly finds the dormitories and goes searching for where his belongings should be, however, there wasn't any need to. On a few of the dorm room doors were a piece of paper that listed the new students that were to occupy the space. The dorms that didn't have a piece of paper attached presumably belonged to the older students who were already settled in.

Sirius scans the first door but doesn't find his name or any of the others. The second door, however, made him grin brightly. Looking over his shoulder, he attempts to turn and call out to his three new friends but is met with their curious expressions and already-approaching figures.

Catching sight of Sirius' grin, James breaks out into a light sprint, matching Sirius' grin with one of his own, "are we all sharing a dorm then?"

"You bet we are!" With a cheer, the two raise their arms to drape across one another's shoulders before facing Peter and Remus together. As soon as the remaining two heard the good news, all of them were eager to step inside and begin unpacking.

Entering the rather generous space, they find that their sleeping arrangements have already been chosen for them with their trunks placed at the foot of their beds. Everyone had a single bed to their name, a desk area, a full-length mirror, a wardrobe, a bedside table and a tall, standing lamp at their other bedside. One side of the dorm had tall windows to let in some natural light but it seemed as though a majority of their lighting would be coming from the lamps or candelabras littered about the room. At the centre of the space was a freestanding, cast iron fire heater to keep everybody warm on cold days. Most of the room was left sparse for them to decorate as they wished, there were even some empty plant pots available for those with green thumb hobbies. Or maybe it was in anticipation of a future herbology project? Nevertheless, the space was cosy and Sirius immediately felt at home as he began to unpack his things with the rest of the boys, occasionally joining in idle conversation to pass the silence.

James brought up the question of what everyone would like to do for the rest of tonight, other than unpacking. Remus was happy to just sit and read before bed, Peter simply shrugged his shoulders, already appearing exhausted by the day's events. It was up to James and Sirius to commence a game of exploding snap.

2nd September 1971

You've already sent off Sirius' letter, congratulating him on a job well done for his first day, you've even included a little gift to commemorate his sorting into Gryffindor. Thankfully, you thought to arrange everything in advance or else you wouldn't have gotten it to him on time – the prototype stage was very tedious but incredibly worth it. You only hope Sirius sees your effort and wears it religiously or else all that work would have been for nothing.

It was lonely to be in the house without him but you and Regulus are managing, it helped a lot that you still had your youngest with you — he was so incredibly precious and sweet; he almost managed to sweep your mind clear of Sirius at some points. Your developed routine didn't change much, once Regulus was in his appointed tutoring session with Peony, you went about your errands, sometimes, it required getting out of the house so you needed to be careful with your timing. You weren't comfortable knowing that, if you were late, Peony would be gone and Regulus would be home alone with his wretched father.

Over time, your sudden change of heart has had an adverse effect on Orion, who wasn't very good at hiding his anger regardless of how much he tried to suppress it. His mounting outrage was set to explode soon enough so you weren't surprised to hear his raging voice booming through number 12 Grimmauld Place, shaking the tenuous walls with his ferocity.

It didn't take a genius to foresee such an outburst and, because you knew about Sirius' sorting beforehand, you easily remained composed in the heat of Orion's violent rage. The sounds that came from his home office were unmistakably the destruction of a vase following the overturning of furniture, as well as the breakage of other miscellaneous things. You couldn't tell the extent seeing as you remained as far away from his office as much as possible, the way one would avoid a radioactive area. Orion himself was made of pure radiation.

Soon enough, Orion's seething figure barrelled out of his office with a force that had the door slamming against the wall. Stepping through, his imposing silhouette was ablaze with dark flames that were rooted to his sizeable, shaking shoulders. He didn't seem satisfied with the rampage he had in his room and immediately went to throw about the hallway furnishings as well. What a baby... (Eye roll).

Regulus should be in the home library reading up on material Peony asked him to review, a diligent and bright student, your perfect baby boy. However, when you turn in the library's direction, you see Regulus peeking out with the most horrified expression you've ever seen. It breaks your heart and quickly make your way over to him, ignoring your pathetic excuse for a husband.

"I'm sorry about your father, dear," you whisper as soon as you get to his side.

"M-mother—" his stutter comes to a stop when he sees you shake your head and observes your soft expression. You've been able to sense his thoughts a lot more clearly, always attentive to his needs and wants, like a good mother should. You assume he was feeling at fault for his father's rage when he couldn't be further from the truth.

Just in case, you reiterate the fact to him, "It's not your fault, sweetheart," bringing him into an embrace, you give his shaking figure an assuring squeeze while you press a kiss to his temple, "Let's go to your room, okay? Ignore your father," you didn't wait for an answer and whispered a 'muffliato' charm around his ears. Rather than hearing his pathetic father's rage, he is accompanied by you and a slight buzzing sound whilst traversing the hallway from the library to his bedroom.

You don't immediately release the muffliato charm from Regulus' ears. The first priority was getting him into bed, nice and cosy, the next was soundproofing the room with the imperturbable charm and ensuring that the door was locked, just in case Orion wanted to invade Regulus' space too. As an additional measure, you call for Kreacher and ask him to warn you if Orion ever sets his eyes on Regulus' bedroom, to which the house elf immediately obliges. With everything set, you finally lift the muffliato charm from Regulus.

"What's father upset about, Mother?" Regulus curls in on himself beneath the covers, tucking his chin over his knees as his arms wrap around his covered shins. The sight makes your heart clench painfully. He looked so scared and small, he didn't look like your bright and shining boy anymore... Orion that prick!

"Your father received news of Sirius' house sorting," the dreaded look that crosses Regulus' face saddens you further. You do your best to calm him down by sitting at his bedside and combing your fingers through his hair. "Your father isn't setting the best example by throwing a tantrum over something so trivial," the comment was your attempt at distracting Regulus from the situation, "don't worry about him, okay? He's only being a big baby for throwing such a fuss,"

"H-he can't do anything to Sirius though..." Regulus responds, his mind far too occupied with worry for his older brother, "he's all the way in Hogwarts, Father won't be able to get to him," your youngest's pleading eyes blink up at you for confirmation, seeking comfort. His only comfort is the knowledge of his brother's safety.

"No, he can't," Regulus relaxes ever so slightly as you press another kiss onto the crown of his head, "Not to worry, my dear, everything will be okay," with some gentle prodding, you manage to get Regulus into your lap where you lock him in a comforting embrace and begin to hum a random but soft tune. Your pathetic excuse of a husband should know better than this, he's being such a sensitive little prick. No wonder Sirius had such issues with his anger before you got here. It was all Orion's influence... and probably the original Walburga too.

"What a bad influence he is..." you mutter absentmindedly, the bitterness in your expression tangible.

"You're not talking about Sirius are you?!" Regulus looks up in alarm, pushing against you so he can stare into your eyes and seems to want to pull away completely.

"Of course not," you reassure in a hurry, wanting to curse yourself for being so loose-lipped. He's still pulled away slightly and you thought it best to allow him to return to your embrace in his own time, "I was talking about your father," Regulus watches with observant eyes as you shake your head disapprovingly and tut, "even though Sirius has been angry for a long time, he's gotten much better with managing his emotions, don't you think?" Regulus nods and slowly begins to fold into your arms again, "I bet you that Sirius would respond much better to bad news than your father,"

"...what happened mother?..."

With the happiest smile, you whisper the news against your youngest's soft, inky locks, "Sirius got sorted into Gryffindor,"

Regulus pulls away in shock but his eyes are sparkling with wonder, "really?!"

"Really,"

"That makes him the first one ever in our family,"

Nodding enthusiastically, the both of you share a smile, "yes it does, aren't you proud of your big brother?" you ask with a giggle. Naturally happy for Sirius, Regulus nods without missing a beat.

"You're proud of him too, mother?" you almost miss Regulus' concerned tone due to your own excitement.

"Always," you hold him close and squeeze him once more, "I'll always be proud of my beautiful sons. Seeing the two of you grow into your personalities and into men will always be cause for celebration," Regulus wraps his arms around your shoulders and presses his face into the base of your neck, inhaling the new fragrance against your skin — his mother never used to wear such gentle fragrances, Regulus doesn't believe his mother ever used to wear fragrance at all but having such a pretty and pleasant scent to associate you with after your change of heart makes him so happy.

"You won't be mad if I'm sorted into a different house like Sirius, right?"

"Never." you were resolute and felt the smile curling Regulus' lips against your skin.

"Not even if I'm in Gryffindor too?"

His cheekiness makes you laugh freely, "It'll be tough being outnumbered by two Gryffindors but even then... even then, I'll be so proud and so happy for both of you,"

Your moment is broken by the sudden appearance of Kreacher who warns you of Orion's approaching figure, as promised. The warning has you jumping to your feet and tucking Regulus back into bed. His small hand reaches for your own and you easily weave your fingers together for comfort.

BANG!

For the man to have the audacity to kick at Regulus' door makes your blood boil. Living in such a magical world, you know that the door wouldn't stay locked forever so you step over to block Regulus' view of Orion, subsequently hiding Regulus and keeping him from the danger that was his father's irate gaze.

"LOCKING DOORS IN MY HOUSE?!"

"Get out, Orion," you order plainly and with an unamused expression.

"WHAT?!"

"Regulus and I have every right to lock our doors if we don't want your company, especially when it's so unpleasant. Now, get out,"

Ignoring your words, Orion steps to the side and makes direct eye contact with Regulus, who begins to shake. His small hand clenched around your fingers with such force that your circulation gets obstructed but you pay it no mind – whatever he needs to feel safe in that moment.

"If you don't go to Slytherin, you're going to be as big of a disappointment as your no-good brother!"

"Orion!" you shout in disbelief, too shocked at the asshole's audacity to do much else.

"You shan't go anywhere else! I'll throw you into the vault for an entire month otherwise! And then you're gone from this family! DO YOU HEAR ME?! LOOK AT ME WHEN I'M SPEAKING TO YOU REGULUS!"

Rushing forward, you push Orion back with such force, that he almost makes it out of the door. And before he can protest, you continue pushing him until he is out in the hallway. If it wasn't for Regulus being there, you would have clobbered him the good 'muggle' way but you had to set a good example for Regulus and managed to repress your emotions until the bedroom door was closed. Finally, you and Orion were alone in the hallway.

"Walburga you—!"

"Calm yourself, Orion! You're frightening Regulus and you're frightening me! Stop it this instant!" Orion looks at you with utter disbelief, his eyes, still ablaze with anger, gradually mixed with swirling pools of shock and perplexity. The woman who stands before him is not the wife he married and disciplined his sons with.

"Have you not read the letters?!" Orion tries to put logic behind your actions, his befuddlement completely disorienting him — thankfully, he's managed to lower his voice, somewhat.

"Of course I have!" you hiss, lying through your teeth. The night of Sirius' first day, the letters already started to pour in but you hadn't opened a single one, already knowledgeable of the news you were going to receive from them. With a dramatic huff, Orion crosses his arms and looks at you with an expression of 'well?', silently asking you to explain yourself but instead, you're turning away completely. "I'll be right back," I have something more important to address right now.

"Walb—!" you pay the bastard no attention and re-enter Regulus' room. On his bed, you find your youngest shaking in fear and with the most distraught expression you've ever seen him wear. His appearance peaking out from the library couldn't match the astronomical distress he was now experiencing.

Regulus is definitely more important right now...

"Don't worry, my darling," you whisper, embracing him as soon as you seat yourself at his bedside once more, "let mommy handle him. You're going to be alright, I promise. I won't ever let him harm you or your brother," kissing his forehead, you call for Kreacher once more and request that he keep Regulus company while you have a talk with Orion.

"Kreacher will be happy to stand by the young master Regulus," in your peripheral, you see the two share a small smile with Regulus's coming out much more hesitant and shaky. He's such a sweet, brave boy it makes your heart swell with pride but also ache with remorse that he's having to be like this at such a young age.

"I'll be right back, dear," you make sure to give him another kiss on the forehead before leaving. In your periphery, you glimpse Kreacher reaching out to take his young master's hand.

"How dare you speak to my son that way!" you finally burst with rage, pointing an accusatory finger at Orion and poking into his chest with your nail repeatedly, "Threatening him is not the right way to raise him! Leave Regulus out of this! I can't believe you're throwing such a huge tantrum over a school house! You aren't setting a good example! You should be ashamed of yourself!"

Orion, despite his bafflement, is quick to talk back with just as much bite and snark, "What in the world are you talking about?! Are you telling me that you're willing to accept that our son was sorted into Gryffindor?!" Orion is shocked at his wife's hypocrisy. There was a mounting urge within him to confront her new attitude, however, the matter of Sirius' sorting was much more urgent for the time being.

"It's a Hogwarts house, Orion, it's not the end of the world," his jaw hits the floor but you simply roll your eyes at him, "Our blood running through his veins is enough. Knowing that he's our son is enough. He should be free to live in the house the sorting hat puts him into — and you should be happy, being sorted into Gryffindor means that Sirius is brave and chivalrous, both are amazing qualities for our son to have!"

"It also means that he'll be spending most of his time around blood traitors and mudbloods who will surely corrupt his mind!" you try not to outwardly cringe at his use of such derogatory terms, and in such a spiteful tone too. This man is so full of hate and menace – it isn't safe to have him around your sons. "I'm making a trip to Hogwarts tomorrow! Whether you accompany me or not will be your choice! I'm sending the letter to Hogwarts tonight!"

He storms back to his office without allowing you the chance to retort or offer your opinion on the decision. His blatant disregard of you and Regulus makes you bristle with rage, you feel like a cat who tensed up in warning. If he bothers you again for the rest of the day, you'll drop-kick his sorry ass. Thankfully, a few deep breaths were good for placating your annoyance — besides, this occasion gave you the perfect opportunity.

"Kreacher," you call in a calm voice. In a heartbeat, your dedicated house elf stands before you, willing to obey. The smile you wear is a complete contrast to what you ask of him and you almost have to keep yourself from snorting in amusement when his eyes make to pop out of their sockets from shock.

"M-mistress be wantin' a s-s-separate room?"

"Yes, Kreacher," it was plain and simple, "Please transfer all my belongings as well. I won't be able to stand sleeping next to such an idiotic husband," Kreacher flinches at the insult as if it was directed at him personally. The wrinkled house elf has never seen the proud patriarch and matriarch of the Black house argue to the point of demanding separate rooms. It was already such an insult for the Mistress to request a sleeping elsewhere that it was almost unnecessary to call the Master an 'idiot' after that point. "But before that, would you mind clearing up Orion's mess in the hall? — Not his office, however, he can clean that disaster up himself,"

"It be best if Kreacher transfers Mistress' room first t-to avoid Master Orion's wrath..." Kreacher only realises what he's said after he'd already spoken the words. He couldn't believe he had felt comfortable enough—impudent enough to suggest doing the tasks differently to how his mistress directed, it goes against how house elves should behave! Before you can react, Kreacher drops to the floor and grovels at your feet incoherently. You're only able to make out the words 'sorry', 'bad elf' and 'punishment' before Kreacher crawls to the hallway bannister and begins aggressively hitting his head against the railing. The awful sound of his head making contact with the bannister makes you gasp and rush forward to stop him, hauling him back by his small shoulders.

"Kreacher stop that!" you plead, worried eyes falling over his forehead as your hand goes up to gently trace the area, "Goodness, there's no need to punish yourself for making a helpful suggestion, Kreacher," you release a breath of relief when you hardly see any lasting damage. Thankfully he was built tougher than steel. Kreacher continues to look at you with widened eyes and parted lips. First, it was his Master Regulus being kind to a lowly elf like himself, and now, it was his Mistress. He's such a blessed elf, he can't help but feel joy from being given such kindness so freely, "I was going to say that it's a good idea and you should do it in the order you feel is best. But now I demand that you rest for an hour, at least, I'll get you some dittany to put on your bump,"

"K-Kreacher will do it, Mistress! Mistress is already being too kind to this unworthy house elf,"

"Unworthy?" you arch a brow and kneel before the elf with a frown, "Kreacher, you have served me and my family well for many years. Regulus thinks of you as his friend and you've been getting along well with Sirius too. You even put up with my idiotic husband," you offer a gentle smile, "even if you weren't those things, everyone deserves rest and to be treated with care when they are hurt. It'll only take a moment, I'm not angry at you—" you move to stand back up and make your way to the potions cupboard downstairs but Kreacher is already shaking his head in protest.

"Mistress is too kind, Kreacher will do it!" he states firmly and disappears with a snap of his fingers. For a moment, he looked a little taller and not so gloomy. The image makes you smile slightly before sighing in defeat — what a stubborn elf you have.

You have Regulus in your arms once again, the two of you sat atop his bed and against the headboard. Thankfully, Orion hasn't been as disruptive after isolating himself in his office and you were able to lift the imperturbable charm from the door.

"You've got nothing to worry about, my love," combing your fingers through your youngest's dark curls, you whisper the assurance into the air. You've notified him of what Orion plans to do the next day and he immediately freezed up again. It was a reaction you anticipated and wished you didn't have to deliver the news at the foresight, but it was always better to be honest. And you're sure you wouldn't be able to hide the news for long, seeing as his father would be taking action by early morning, tomorrow. "Nothing bad will happen to Sirius, I'll make sure of it,"

Regulus still has his face pressed up against the juncture of your neck and shoulder as he clings to your figure for dear life. His worry was evident and, although it was saddening to see, your heart soared knowing of the close bond the brothers had. You won't allow them to have such a horrible falling out in the future, knowing that they care for each other so deeply, "Sirius is so lucky to have such a caring and thoughtful younger brother like you," Regulus sniffles and pulls away to look at you with glassy eyes, his lip slightly wobbly. He feels guilty for basking in your praise and feeling so happy by it when Sirius was in danger. Gently swiping your thumb under his eye, you whisper an alliance, "Let's promise to protect Sirius together tomorrow, okay?"

"We're going to see him?" Regulus couldn't believe his ears. Hope began to wrap around his heart. The feeling was and allowed him to smile once more, blinking away his tears as he did so.

"Your father insists on it,"

"I thought it was only father going,"

You shake your head and smirk deviously, "we're going too~"

For a moment, Regulus really thought Sirius was going to be harmed by their father but, knowing that you plan on accompanying him, was a comfort. And you planned on taking him with you too! Regulus doesn't know what he'd be capable of doing when it came to protecting his older brother but he had full confidence knowing that you would be there with him. The two of you share a smile — a silent union with the same purpose.

"What would you like me to read to you tonight?" you ask ever so softly, a gentle way of diverting the subject matter for the sake of Regulus' bedtime.

"The Wind in the Willows," Regulus immediately answers. It was an enchanting tale and nothing like the stories from 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. Muggles were really creative and, although it was bizarre trying to imagine forest creatures living a lot like how humans live, it was enchanting. Regulus was grateful that you were willing to read him books written by muggles — he wouldn't have known how wonderful their stories were, otherwise.

"You really like that story don't you?" you joke, already accio-ing the book into your hands. It was one of your favourites growing up too and you always dreamed of reading it to your future children. Now that you had Regulus and Sirius for sons, they weren't about to be the exception.

Regulus flushes a soft pink beneath his adorable freckles, "it's just so charming,"

Kissing his temple, you smile and open the book to the first chapter, "I understand, darling, you have amazing taste," he looks away when you send him a wink before finally beginning his favourite storybook. 

2nd September 1971

Breakfast was just as grand of an affair as the previous night’s extravagant first dinner. Again, the food didn’t have as much loving care put into it nor were its tastes carefully curated for his palette, unlike his mother’s home cooking. However, Sirius was still managing to satiate himself with second helpings. Some students were still dressed in their pyjamas for breakfast, which made perfect sense, considering breakfast was from 7:30 to 8:50 in the morning – getting their stomachs filled was far more important than getting dressed earlier than necessary.

“Have you guys tried the pancakes?” Peter raved through a half-eaten mouthful of said pancakes.

“Oh yeah!” James responds, also with a half-eaten mouthful of pancakes. Remus manages a weak laugh at their display, clearly not a morning person as he sips his tea and slowly butters his toast before reaching for the jam. Sirius and the boys, like many other students, were still dressed in their pyjamas from the night before. Morning announcements were relayed to them by their respective house ghosts, who made brief introductions the night before, after dinner and on the way to their common rooms. It was a good thing too, because Sir Nicholas –the ghost for Gryffindor House– had the horrible habit of showcasing his near-headless-ness as if he was tipping a hat in greeting. It was a fascinating sight but not when everyone was enjoying their meal.

“First years are to spend the first half of today with prefects touring the castle,” the ghostly Nicholas announces, thankfully having the decency to repress his usual urge of tipping his head.

“Thank you, Sir Nicholas,” Remus smiles politely over the rim of his tea cup. The ghost nods in acknowledgement before proceeding to the other first years further down the table.

Breakfast continued with the usual chatter between mouthfuls until a slew of hoots permeated the air and owls swooped through with a flourish. Some delivered newspapers to the teachers at the staff table, but groups carried a stack of parchment to the head of each house table before dispersing. Groups of prefects sorted through their respective house stacks, grabbing piles of each and proceeding to hand them over to the other students. For the names they didn’t seem to recognise, the prefects carefully shouted them out and asked for a raised hand. In due time, the boys received their timetables. First-years were told that today was the only exception to the schedule as they were going to receive a tour of the castle from the prefects, who were being overseen by the head boy and head girl. There were excited whispers between those who were especially eager, about doing their best with the tours so that they may be able to become next year’s head boy or girl.

From all the activity, it seemed that most people were finally beginning to blink away the sleep from their eyes and gain some alertness for the day. Sirius thought most of the activity was done with, however, already loading up his plate for his third helping when another hoot sliced through the air. It was Owletta, Sirius’ owl. When everyone looked up, they saw the elegant barn owl swoop down and gracefully deliver Sirius’ letter along with a small, neatly wrapped box. She was gone as quickly as she had entered, all in a looping ribbon of gold and white feathers.

“A letter already?” James asks, the surprise evident in his wide-eyed and jaw-dropped expression, “It looks like you got a gift too, I’m kinda jealous,” he teases as whispers erupt from the Slytherin table.

Sirius turns his chin over his shoulder, curious about the whispers and immediately meets the smirking gaze of his elder cousin, Bellatrix Black. She’s openly snickering at him and doesn’t break away from his stare. Her eyes are dark and challenging, daring him to open his letter and see what’s inside, eliciting a feeling of dread from deep in Sirius’ stomach. The panic and fear and unease had been building since the previous night’s sorting ceremony. It never seemed to calm despite Sirius’ countless efforts to ignore it. He stares down at his letter and the small gift beside it, both vibrating in his hold, appearing to build towards their timely detonation. But they weren’t going to explode… Sirius realised it was because of his own hands shaking.

Surely his mother was disappointed in him, right? That was what the letter would say…but why a gift?

“Aren’t you going to open them?” Remus prompts as the two other boys look on with piqued interest, Peter disregarding his plate to do so.

Sirius does not answer as he continues to observe his postal deliveries. The letter doesn’t appear to be a howler. Instead of the screaming letters’ signature red envelope, his letter was in a simple off-white envelope — a normal letter. His gift was decorated in matte-black wrapping paper. It was wrapped in such a way that the folds crossed over each other in neat and crisp lines, creating a design that was immediately recognised by James.

“That looks like the gifts I got wrapped when buying stuff in Japan on a family holiday,” James alerts with interest, “but it never came with a plant,”

Sirius pulls out the arrow-shaped plant with it’s stems tucked in the crisp folds. It had many small leaves and a slightly bumpy stem, “what plant is this?”

“It looks like a fern to me,” Remus inputs helpfully.

“I see…” Sirius finds himself staring down at his letter and gift once more. He’s stalling.

“It feels too pretty and neat to unwrap, doesn’t it?” James asks from experience, remembering how he didn’t have the heart to undo the artistry put into wrapping the gift, “I felt that way too but you’ll be missing out on your gift mate. Open it,”

“Yeah! It must be special since you’re getting it so early,” Peter adds, eagerly leaning forward to closely observe what Sirius may unravel. Steeling his nerves, Sirius forces his hands to stop shaking before proceeding to carefully unfold the carefully wrapped gift, on the table the delicate sprig of fern it came with.

Unwrapping the black paper revealed a small, sturdy box that looked as if it held precious jewellery. After a brief moment of pondering what may be inside, Sirius finally lifted the lid and revealed a beautiful red pin, shaped like a shield with gold accents sitting on a black velvet cushion. The metal pin was decorated with a gold, standing lion in the middle. It was a sleek and minimalist design that begged to be picked up and put on. Turning the pin over in his palm, Sirius gasps at the message engraved on the back, his heart racing in his chest as he fights off a beaming smile and the flood of tears threatening to streak down his cheeks in rivers.

‘A Shield To Protect My Brave, Daring And Noble Son’

Above the quote was his name in beautiful cursive and below the quote, in the same elegant handwriting read: ‘Love, Mother’.

Others who observe his state, look on in concern, not knowing what’s happened as Sirius curls in on himself and clutches the pin to his chest with both hands. Worried for their new friend, James, Remus and Peter look at each other with worry. It was Remus who was the first to react, however. The brunette brings up a hand to softly pat Sirius on the back, being the one closest to him in the seating arrangement.

“Did it say something bad?” Peter gently brings up, frightened at the prospect of upsetting his emotional friend by bringing up the subject.

“I don’t think so,” Remus observes and responds in a whisper.

James keeps his focus directly on Sirius, frowning deeply at the sight of his friend’s suddenly much smaller frame, “What’s wrong, Siri?”

“Nothing, nothing’s wrong…” Sirius manages to smile up at them, blinking away the tears and biting his lip in a vain attempt to suppress his beaming smile. Finally seeing his smiling face, his three friends breathed a synchronised sigh of relief.

“Don’t scare us like that, mate,” James laughs weakly and claps him on the shoulder, “we thought something horrible happened,”

Sirius only shakes his head before looking upon his still unopened letter. He thinks he can finally have the courage to open it now. The handwriting belongs to his mother so, with the knowledge that the pin was a gift for his sorting, Sirius concludes that the letter’s contents can only bode the same congratulatory message… right?

When Sirius finally unfolds the letter and reads its contents he begins to cry silently. His vision gets blurred by the river of tears falling from his wide, disbelieving eyes and he has to rapidly blink them away to try and read his letter intelligibly; he has to know that the words on the letter paper are real and that it isn’t an illusion his mind conjured up to cope with the thought of losing his newly loving mother’s affections. Growing concerned, James and Peter cross the table to stand behind Sirius and look over his shaking shoulders to read what the letter says along with Remus.

‘My dearest son, Sirius,’ 

The letter opened, the tone already loving and so so proud.

‘I have received the wonderful news of your sorting and to say that it brings me such great joy would be an understatement. My beautiful son, sorted into the house of lions, brave and courageous — today, I am given the blessing of being an even prouder mother than I already stand.’

Sirius chokes back a sob and ends up releasing a strangled laugh instead. He could never have anticipated such a letter from his mother. Ever. To read the words on the elegantly decorated parchment felt surreal.

‘In celebration, I have prepared a gift for you. I hope it gives you protection and good fortune. Please wear it with pride, the same way I will happily announce to the world that you are my son and the first son in the Black family to be sorted into Gryffindor house. How special you are! And how lucky I am to be the mother of such a noble and brave son.’

The words make Sirius’ heart clench in an almost painful joy as his chest swells with pride and relief. For a moment, he goes about attaching his pin to his robes but finds that his hands are too shaky and his vision too blurred to be able to do it properly or safely. Disregarding the task altogether, he returns to reading his letter with a defeated laugh.

‘I wish I was there to see you sorted personally. Although, I’m afraid I would have embarrassed you in front of your new friends if that were the case, for I would have been the loudest to cheer in the entire hall,’

Remus, James and Peter chuckle from behind him and over his shoulder when they read about your suspected reaction.

“That would’ve been a sight,” Remus comments with a suppressed chuckle.

“The thing is… I think my mum would have been the exact same,” James adds with a lopsided smirk, showcasing his singular, asymmetrical dimple.

“Y-your mum sounds so different to the rumours…“ Peter whispers almost too silently, making Sirius’ breath hitch. He’s so glad for his mother’s change in demeanour, he can hardly remember the last time she scowled in disappointment or disgust at him — he doesn’t care much for trying to remember such a sight however; his mother’s loving smile is so much more suited to her face and so much easier to remember.

‘Regulus is just as thrilled at the result of your sorting. The both of us are current rivals in the feelings of pride and joy over your destined house. I believe that he’s become especially eager to join you in Gryffindor one day.’

Sirius chuckles at the prospect, laughing through the tears as he imagines his younger brother, soft-hearted and demure but witty and sharp as a knife in, both, knowledge and humour, sorted into Gryffindor. If Regulus were to be sorted in the same house as him, Sirius would happily accept the result with open arms. He loved his brother so much that being able to spend time with him at Hogwarts, in the same house, breathed promises of the most fun times and precious memories he could ever experience.

‘If that were to come true, I’m afraid I’d have my hands full being completely outnumbered by two Gryffindors in the house. You’ll have to excuse this mother’s inexperience but I’ll be happy all the same, so it can’t be too bad of an outcome, can it?’

The good humour makes Sirius giggle to himself, overcome with a dopey enchantment he just can’t seem to shake. His tears have dried up and left behind were a pair of rosy cheeks, glittering silver eyes and a beaming grin. His friends share in his happiness, the loving and prideful words on the paper seeping beneath their skin and influencing their moods as well.

‘Without any further embellishments, all I want you to know, my darling son, is that I am proud of you. And so incredibly happy too. You were always very daring and valiant, you had the heart of a lion without even knowing it. It was an unexpected sorting but I can’t say that I’m too surprised. A mother just knows these things. You are where you belong, I only hope that they treat you well there and that you continue being as audacious and fearless as you’ve always been. I love you, Sirius, please never forget that. Love, Mother’

Sirius tucks the letter back into its envelope sleeve before placing it in the breast pocket of his pyjamas, along with the custom pin, carefully stored back in its cushioned box. He will treasure these two simple items forever. He didn’t believe happiness like this could have ever existed but here he was, experiencing it first-hand. It almost felt too good to be true but when he reads it over and over again as soon as he returns to his dorm room to change into his school robes for the day, the realness of the letter and the gift are reinforced over and over.

“I forgot you’re in a family full of Slytherins,” James comments absentmindedly as he throws on his robes without much care for their alignment. Sirius mirrors the action, the lack of care for his appearance is new but freeing and he enjoys it, guilt-free. “I bet you’re relieved to receive a letter like that, considering what most of your family were sorted into,” Peter is nodding along in the background, flashing Sirius a moderate smile, still finding it hard to act freely in most interactions — it’s nothing that can’t be fixed with some valuable time spent together.

Remus perks up and eyes Sirius with sympathy, “That is a relief then…your mother seems to really love you though,” Sirius nods in confirmation, elated that he can share things about his mother happily like this. It no longer feels right to complain about home negativities nor did he feel as though he could openly disgrace his mother’s name.

He’s spoiled by happiness and love, now, even if it was only for a short period of time. And he’s slowly growing a greed for it. Sirius wants to keep making you happy and knowing that all he has to do is be himself, like he was at the sorting ceremony, allows a grin to spread over his lips in pure joy.

He cannot wait to receive your next letter…

NEXT. | 06 : POTIONEER → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : what a long chapter that was, but very appropriate for my official come back eh? how was it for you darlings? are you excited? I'm sorry about what happened to reggie and what may happen to sirius but we're going to be there for them so don't worry too much, this is a fix-it-fic after all! hehe~ i hope you're excited for what'll happen next because i certainly am! there's so much i still have planned so i don't think there'll be many slow chapters in the future, I'm just a little worried about my execution -- nevertheless, i'll do my best! 

lastly, thank you, everyone, for your support of this series so far! it means so much to me to know that this is being received so well and that more people than i originally thought are enjoying the plot. i was originally going to write a simple imagine/timestamp of this and just leave it at that, but I'm happy my friends encouraged me to turn it into a series. thank you again, my darlings! see you in the next chapter! 

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[landograndprix]

「Feel the magic ๛ l.n」

part vii

✧.* you've finally secured your well deserved p1 after months of suffering with red bull and while you celebrate it the right way, love is in the air and everybody sees it now.

✧.* when i think about my muppets i think about this song, should i make like a playlist of songs that remind me of this fic, give y'all the vibes ive been having? 👀 spelling mistakes add character, don't mind them 🥰 this is a psa for the people who wanted to be on my taglist but never got tagged, i didn't forget or ignore you, I simply am unable to tag you and therefore removed you from the list feel free to ask me again so I can take a look at it. Taglist is open Love ya ❤️

✧.* prev part - next part

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, milouberger and 453,789 others

y/nusername I'd like to thank my parents— p1 baby!🏆

tagged: mclaren

view all 742 comments

y/nloveee yes baaaaabbyyyyy 🤩🤩

norrizz one big fat fuck you to red bull!

adam_norris_pure_electric amazing race, amazing driver!🥇

carlandooo oh my gosh, I'm dead, Adam out here supporting his future daughter in law 😭

norry4 stop it 😭

ricky78 bring it home y/n!

natewhite this girls good, she should try racing in f1..

carlossainz55 well deserved! 🔥

chilisainz wish I had a supportive ex boyfriend 💀

y/nlandooo we're so back with our 1-2!

yourmomsuser super proud of you! 🥰

milouberger back where you belong!

hamilt44n girl, shut up..as if you didn't try to push her off the track halfway..🤨

redbullgirl come back please, perez is a joke 😢

landonorris that's my girlfriend 😍

bott_ass we were aware 😂

landonorris you got any plans tonight? wanna celebrate?

landosmclaren HOWLING ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED

maxfewtrell mega race 🙌

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landonorris posted on their story

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cecilemoulin posted to their story

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, riabish and 689,872 others

y/nusername ending an amazing weekend with my favorite lil' guy 🧡

tagged: landonorris

view all 878 comments

norrizz honestly such a power couple!!

sharl16 oh they in love love huh?

bott_ass not the after sex selfie 😭

bananaclerc I was looking for this comment 😭

y/nlando y/n's finally showing more of her and lando on here 🥺

mrsnorris 🤮 get someone your own age 🤮

cecilemoulin I just know y'all were late because you've been watching tiktok's in bed all morning..

y/nusername Cecile thirst trap edits go hard

carlandooo y'all think y/n finally realised she likes this man? Seemed pretty one sided to me for a hot minute 😂

ceciley/n I think Cecile said in an interview that THEY aren't used to dating younger dudes and that she felt out of place for the first few weeks..pretty sure she meant herself and y/n 😉

carlandooo CECILE IS DATING SOMEONE?

ceciley/n yeah..max fewtrell? Girl where have you been? 😂

carlandooo under a fucking rock apparently! Wow, these girls really said young, cute and british? Yes ma'am 🥰 so real of them

ceciley/n a couple of besties dating another couple of besties 😂

hamilt44n where are Carlos and Pierre now? You think they gave up? :')

landonorris favourite lil' muppet 🧡

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @glow-ish

Feel the magic taglist: @celesteblack08 @mrsmaybank13 @cha-hot @judesgfirl @roseseraj @kissesandmartinis @jpg3 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @marialovesf1 @silkenthusiasts @luvrrish @laneyspaulding19 @emily-b @formula1bby @judespoisons @buckybarnessweetheart @strawberrychita @iifloweringnightsii @buendiabebeta @jjsprobablywrong @babyvinnie @mishaandthebrits @hockeyboysarehot

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10

[daydreamgoddess14]

💫 For Your Consideration - Act 4 - Part 1 💫

actor!Bucky x fem!actress!Reader (no use of y/n, l/n, reader is not described in any great detail. I save that for the gowns 💃)

Warnings: Hollywood AU, language, internet nasties, flirty!Bucky, a little power imbalance, age-gap (Bucky is around 40, actress reader is closer to 30 or younger if you prefer 🤭)... more to be added later.

Bucky Barnes, the suave and talented leading man of the 'Winter Soldier' movie series, finds himself on the red carpet circuit during awards season with his latest film 'The Howling Commandos'. But the season takes an unexpected turn when he crosses paths with a mesmerizing newcomer - the actress who has become the talk of Tinseltown with her captivating performance in her most recent film. Sparks fly as they navigate silly season in Hollywood, with a spotlight on their every move will their chemistry ignite a real life romance?

Yes guys, we've reached the bit where my chapters get a bit too long & I had to split the chapter 🤭 Because of the images, I tried to keep the word count to a manageable 6.3k.

If you've been reading this so far and commenting or reblogging, thank you so so much. Honestly, I'm having a blast working on this one, coming up with the ideas for media, the storyline itself... this one's a real treat for me so I'm so grateful you like it too! Feel free to come and talk to me about it, my inbox is always open 💕

Tagging: @winchestert101

< Prev Act | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Next Act >

DECEMBER 2025

You’d turned off notifications for everything except your dad.

Instagram. Twitter. TikTok. Even the group chat.

Every time you opened your phone, it was another headline. Another screenshot. Another “did you see this edit?”

You’d watched the interview back once, and only once, before burying your face in a pillow and groaning so loud the neighbors probably heard.

The chaos didn't seem to be dropping off at all.

It wasn’t that you didn’t like the attention. It was just…

You didn’t know what he thought.

And that uncertainty was deafening.

You were on your third cup of tea that day, curled in a hoodie that smelled faintly like your stage dressing room, when your phone buzzed.

You expected more noise. Another trending topic. Another edit.

What you didn’t expect... was him.

The only person other than your dad that you hadn't muted, because you had no reason to.

Because you had no reason to expect a message from him.

You stared at the message.

Then you stared some more.

What…?

You reread the message five more times.

There was no way he meant that for you.

There had to be someone else he'd meant to message instead.

Your stomach did a backflip, and not in a good way.

You almost didn’t reply. Almost just locked your phone and pretended it never happened.

But then your fingers moved faster than your fear.

…. did you mean to send me that?

You tossed your phone onto the bed like it was a grenade, and paced your flat.

This had to be a mistake. Right?

He’d seen the chaos, the memes, the speculation. He probably wanted to clarify something. Do damage control. Set boundaries.

Tell the world to fuck off…

Another buzz.

It was real.

Oh.

Oh.

You sank onto the edge of the mattress.

He wasn’t doing damage control.

He was asking you to get coffee.

Your hands trembled as you typed back.

And then you dropped it in the group chat.

You got there ten minutes early.

Which meant you’d already walked up and down the street twice, circling Borough Market like it was a reconnaissance mission and not a desperate attempt to look like you weren’t desperate.

The weather was grey and brisk, not fully committed to the depths of winter just yet, but definitely on board with the festive season.

You clutched your scarf like a lifeline, eyes flicking over every passing face. Tourists. Shoppers. Locals. No him.

You checked your phone.

Nothing.

It was fine. You were fine. If anything, this was a good thing. Gave you time to breathe. To remind yourself not to read into anything. It was just coffee. Just two people who’d done an interview and -

“Hey.”

“Oh, shit!” You jumped.

He was standing right in front of you, dressed like someone trying not to be recognized, hoodie, sunglasses, coat zipped high.

And yet now you were looking, it was unmistakably him.

“Oh my God. I didn’t even see you.”

He smiled, tugging down his hood slightly. “That’s the idea.”

You stared at him for a second too long before catching yourself. “Right. Incognito.”

“Stealthy,” he teased, eyes crinkling with that quietly smug charm.

God.

You were in trouble.

You fell into step beside him, the rhythm surprisingly easy, like you’d done this a hundred times before.

“So, you're in London,” you pointed out the obvious.

“I am, for a few days,” he nodded.

You glanced over at him. “Did you, uh… happen to notice the internet melting down after the interview aired?”

He huffed a laugh through his nose. “Kind of hard to miss when your friends won’t stop sending you edited fancams set to Taylor Swift.”

“Oh my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “I’ve seen those. There’s one where they slowed down the hug and put a Hozier track under it. It’s so embarrassing.”

He bumped your shoulder, grinning. “I liked that one. Got your good side.”

“You’re not helping.”

“I’m not trying to.”

There was a moment of silence, not awkward, charged, maybe as you stepped in front of him to move single file through a busy section.

Then he added, quietly from behind you, “Didn’t hate it, though. All the noise. Not if it gave me an excuse to talk to you again.”

You were glad he couldn't see your face.

“Do you want anything?” he asked, gesturing at the rows of stalls. “Pastries? Cheese? Some questionable fusion street food?”

You glanced around, grateful for something else to focus on besides the steady thrum of nerves in your chest. “Questionable? Some of the best food in the city is made here. And, yes, you should try these -” You spotted your favourite bakery stall and waved at the owner.

“Hey Jan, two of the cinnamon please,”

“You're back, love, how's it been going?” The older woman cooed.

“Busy, so busy,” you handed over a fiver and took the paper bag from her, passing it behind to Bucky.

He grinned. “Now you’re speaking my language.”

“If I don't see you before, Jan, have a lovely Christmas,” you beamed as she blew you a kiss and moved on to the next customer.

You paused at another stall selling fresh coffee, the scent practically illegal. He bought two, handed you one without asking, and continued walking like this was… normal. Like this was just how things went with you two.

“Still think you messaged the wrong person,” you mumbled around a bite, motioning vaguely with the pastry. “I read it at least five times before I believed it.”

Bucky shot you a look. “I meant to message you.”

“Sure you didn’t, like, panic and message the only person you know in London, or something?”

He laughed, and you felt the sound somewhere uncomfortably deep in your stomach. “Nope. Fully intentional. Which… might’ve been dumb.”

You looked up at him. “Why dumb?”

He hesitated just long enough for your heart to stutter.

“Because now I want to keep messaging you,” he said simply.

And just like that, Borough Market disappeared for a second.

You were halfway through your cinnamon bun when Bucky veered off course without a word, slipping away to help a flustered dad carry a buggy up the steps by Southwark Cathedral.

You watched him rejoin you, brushing his hands off as if helping strangers mid-date was standard practice.

“You’re really on the charm offensive, huh?”

He glanced at you, brow raised. “It working?”

You gave a little shrug, smiling despite yourself. “Maybe.”

“Guess I’ll keep it up, then.”

There was a moment, easy and warm, and then you added, “you do realise you’re setting the bar pretty high for any future coffee dates, right?”

He grinned, his eyes flicking to yours.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m not planning on sharing my pastries with anyone else.” He leaned in just slightly, voice warm. “Besides, I’ve got to earn a second coffee somehow.”

He gave you a look, playful, but lingering just long enough to make your breath catch.

Just then, a loud group of tourists rounded the corner, jostling through the narrow walkway between stalls. Without thinking, Bucky reached for your elbow, guiding you in closer as the crowd passed.

Your shoulder brushed his chest, his hand warm and steady against your arm. You could smell cinnamon and the faintest trace of his cologne, something subtle, expensive.

You were suddenly very aware of how close you were standing.

And how much you didn’t mind.

Bucky nudged your shoulder lightly with his. “You’ve gone quiet on me. That cinnamon bun wasn’t that good.”

You gave a half-laugh, still watching the crowd. “I was just thinking… in a few months, this will all be over.”

He frowned. “The awards stuff?”

You nodded. “The buzz. The interviews. The... whatever this is,” you said, gesturing vaguely at the space between you.

He frowned. “You think it all just… ends?”

“Of course it does,” you said with a small smile. “Eventually I’ll be back doing eight shows a week somewhere. Maybe I’ll get a West End run if I’m lucky. And someone might go ‘oh, isn’t she the one from that film?’ And then…” You shrugged. “They’ll forget.”

You took a step back and carried on walking, but he didn't join you immediately.

He was quiet for a minute too long, until you turned and found his eyes fixed on you, serious, searching, still frowning.

“You really think that’s how this goes?”

You smiled again, soft this time, and shrugged, “how many actors have been to the Oscars and then disappeared?”

He didn’t answer.

He didn’t say anything. Just fell into step beside you again, quiet for a stretch as your words hung between you like fog. You wondered if he was trying to think of something reassuring to say. Something practical. But when he finally did speak, his voice was low and thoughtful.

“I don’t think I could forget you if I tried.”

You turned your head, surprised, a flutter kicking up in your chest.

He gave a small, lopsided smile, gaze forward again like he hadn’t just shifted something huge between you.

Your cheeks flushed despite the chill in the air. He glanced down at you, a spark of something warm flickering in his eyes.

The crowd thickened again ahead, breaking the moment.

You found a quieter nook between stalls, the hum of the crowd dimmed just enough to breathe.

You lingered there for a minute, the sounds of the market washing around you, muffled and distant.

He didn’t say anything more, but the silence between you wasn’t awkward, it was waiting.

Eventually, you tipped your head toward a nearby stall. “C’mon,” you said, voice low. “Let me get you something more festive than a coffee.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “Trying to butter me up with wine now?”

You smiled. “Trying to stop you looking at me like that without a drink in my hand.”

He let that one slide with a smirk, following you without protest.

You left him to find a spare table amongst the Christmas shoppers and on your return, handed him a steaming cup of mulled wine. He accepted it with a quiet thanks, his fingers brushing yours, warm and steady.

“Do you always go this incognito?” you asked, watching the way he scanned the crowd even now, like he was still half on alert.

“Old habit,” he said. “Too many premieres and press lines. It sticks.”

You nodded, sipping slowly. “You don’t like it much, do you?”

He glanced at you, eyes thoughtful. “The work, I love. The rest of it? Not really built for that part.”

“You seem like you handle it fine.”

“That’s the trick,” he said, mouth curving slightly. “If you do it just well enough, they stop asking you to do more.” He shifted a little, his knees bumping yours under the table.

You tilted your head. “Is that the plan? Stay just under the radar?”

He gave a soft huff of laughter, looking down into his cup. “Something like that.”

A pause passed between you. Comfortable. Curious.

Tethered by something neither of you had quite named yet.

“You surprised me, you know,” you said, voice light, almost teasing.

That drew his eyes back to yours, sharp and curious. “Yeah?”

You tapped your fingers against your mug of steaming wine, the nerves buzzing somewhere deep under your skin. "I figured after the interview chaos, I'd be the last person you'd want to see. I definitely didn't think you'd... reach out."

He chuckled, low and rough, and leaned in a little across the table. His knee bumped yours under the table again, lingering this time. "Guess you’re just worth the chaos."

That earned him a grin, which he answered with a wicked one of his own.

You ducked your head, pretending to focus on your drink, but you felt the heat of his stare, heavy and warm. When you dared to glance up, his gaze had flicked, just briefly, to your mouth.

Your breath caught, you swallowed nervously.

The hum of the market faded away for a second, like the two of you existed inside a bubble.

“You know the internet thinks you're some kind of recluse?” You said, hoping to buy yourself a second to avoid doing something reckless.

He smirked, slow and devastating. "Better not tell them about this, then."

“And you don't date…”

He didn’t answer right away.

“I’ve dated,” he said eventually. “Just... never liked sharing it with the world. Doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

You nodded, quiet for a moment.

“That makes sense,” you said softly. “The more people watching, the less of it you get to keep.”

He looked at you then, like he hadn’t expected you to get it, not really.

You finished the wine and took the mugs back to the counter. You walked a little slower after the stop off. Neither of you said as much, but you certainly didn't quite want the day to be done.

The crowd thinned as you neared the river, your footsteps falling in sync again, closer now. A few brushes of your shoulders. A stolen glance. Eventually, the shimmer of station lights came into view. It felt too soon.

At the edge of the station, the two of you hovered at the line between stay and go.

“I’m really glad you messaged,” you said, eyes on him now, not hiding it.

His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “I kept thinking about what I’d say if I did. It wasn’t my smoothest opener.”

You laughed, the sound softer this time. “No, but it worked.”

A breath passed between you, light but charged.

“I had fun,” you said honestly, your hand brushing his as you reached up to adjust your scarf.

He caught your gaze, lingering now. “Me too. I was hoping I would. But you sort of blew that expectation out of the water.”

Your heart tripped a little.

You stepped back a half-step. “Well. I guess… I’ll see you around?”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

The promise in his voice made you smile as he dipped his head, just a little, and turned into the crowd.

And somehow, despite the chaos of the last week… you felt lighter.

You didn’t know where this was going.

But you wanted to find out.

You watched him go, the crowd swallowing him up one careful step at a time.

Just as you turned to leave, a thought caught you, sudden, sharp.

“Oh, and good luck tomorrow!” you called after him, unsure if he heard it, but saying it anyway.

A second later, your phone buzzed in your pocket.

Thanks, doll. You too.

And just like that, you were smiling all over again.

He should’ve known coffee wouldn’t be enough.

He’d told himself it was just a catch-up. Just a friendly hello. Just a way to say thanks for not making that interview awkward as hell and maybe a kudos for handling the following shitstorm like a pro.

But then she smiled at him like that. Laughed at his dryest jokes. Got flustered when he held eye contact too long. Teased him like they’d met more than just once.

And that was the moment he was screwed.

She’d tucked her scarf tighter against her neck, one hand balancing her takeaway cup, the other brushing his arm when they walked too close.

It wasn’t even deliberate.

That was what made it worse.

Or better.

He wasn’t sure yet.

Borough Market had been a blur, busy and loud, festive and chaotic, but she made it feel almost quiet. Like it was just the two of them weaving between the stalls.

She didn’t seem to mind the chaos.

Didn’t flinch at the attention.

Didn’t even seem to notice the camera phone or two he’d spotted. Or maybe she had, and just chose not to care. That was the part that stuck with him, she didn’t perform.

He’d expected the goodbye to be awkward. A vague see-you-around, maybe a polite nod.

But instead, she’d looked up at him like she didn’t want it to be over either.

And when she called out after him in the station, her voice clear and sure over the crowd, just to say good luck, he’d nearly turned back just to see her smile again.

And now here he was, back in his hotel room, coat still on, replaying every second like a damn teenager.

He’d been surprised when her message came through, he'd barely been in the room a minute.

He stared at it a second longer than he meant to, thumb hovering.

Then he replied.

Simple. Measured. Safer than I haven’t stopped thinking about you since you walked away.

Her teasing reply came quickly and he let her have the last word.

He set the phone down, stared at the ceiling.

He didn’t date. Didn’t do flirty message threads or smile at his screen like an idiot.

But there she was. Unbothered, funny, warm, and making him do all of those things.

He still wasn’t sure what the hell he was doing.

And for the first time in a long time… he didn’t mind.

Nominations were a thing other people got.

He never used to care about mornings like this, he never had any reason to. His movies occasionally showed up in stunt or FX categories. There were no expectations or disappointments.

But this morning?

He was watching his phone like a hawk.

The Critics Choice. The Globes.

Announced on the same day, and right as he needed to leave for the airport.

He watched the rain on the taxi window, forcing himself to stop waiting for it to ring.

It vibrated in his hand before the sound rang out.

“Sam?”

“Bro, you did it.”

He could hear it in Sam’s voice - that slightly stunned pride, like he’d been holding his breath for Bucky even if Bucky hadn’t asked him to.

“Globes and Critics. Best actor. Best film. Yelena’s up for Director at the Globes -"

“Not Critics?”

“Nah, man. That last spot went to the Cabaret director.”

“Shit.” He breathed, “holy shit.”

“I know,” Sam said, laughter threading through his words now. “It’s crazy. I’m proud of you, man. It’s all happening.”

Bucky felt something catch in his throat. “Thanks. I… yeah.” He exhaled. “Thanks, Sammy.”

“Look, get your flight, get some rest. I’ll send you the links.”

“Yeah. I’ll see you in a few hours.”

“Congratulations, man. I love you.”

“Love you too.”

Sam rang off and the phone sat idly in Bucky's lap.

It lit up with the links Sam had promised.

He opened the Golden Globes one first.

His name.

In a bolded list, alongside people he’d admired for years. Best Actor in a Drama.

His film. Best Picture.

Then he saw hers. Just underneath.

Best Actress in a Comedy or Musical.

His heart gave a weird, full sort of jolt.

He wasn’t surprised - she was so good, everyone had seen it, but seeing it there in print made something in him go still.

She deserved this.

She belonged here.

He was proud. Maybe a little awestruck.

And without thinking, he opened their messages.

Maybe it was the way her laugh still echoed in his head… That coffee date hadn’t just stuck with him, it had dug in.

The way she’d smiled up at him over her cup, that flutter of nerves she’d tried to hide, the way she’d lit up when he called her talented.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about it. Or her.

Congratulations on the nomination, sweetheart. I told ya.

He waited maybe half a minute before locking his phone and tossing it on top of his bag like it didn’t matter. Like he wasn’t listening for it to buzz again.

It did. With messages from Yelena, from Joaquin… even a begrudging congratulations from John.

But her reply was the one he went to first.

A purple heart. He stared at it longer than he should’ve.

Then she sent a follow-up, bright and warm, something in his chest tightened. She made it easy. Too easy.

It wasn’t flirting. Not exactly. But it had that hum beneath it, the pull of something neither of them was saying outright.

And he could’ve stopped there. Could’ve left it polite.

He didn’t.

She was teasing him again by the third message. Playful. Open.

He’d tried to keep it cool.

But God, she made it hard.

And somewhere between their teasing and half-joking plans to grab coffee when they were back in the same city, he realised no amount of distance was going to save him.

Maybe she felt it too.

Or maybe he was imagining it.

Either way, he found himself typing out messages he didn’t send. Wondering if she was doing the same.

And then, it slowed.

Not because he wanted it to.

Not because she wasn’t still on his mind.

Just… life pulling at them both. Interviews, work calls, suit fittings. And maybe he wanted her to miss him a little too.

So after a few days, he felt it more than he meant to.

He'd become aware of the space she’d started to take up in his brain.

Of the way her name lit up his screen.

Of the way he kept checking, wondering which of them would be the first to crack.

It was always going to be him.

The next morning, before he could even finish his coffee, with the time difference closing in, he tapped the little camera icon beside her name.

What the hell was he doing?

The call rang. Once. Twice.

Then nothing.

Missed.

He cursed under his breath and ran a hand over his face. He never did shit like that. Never called people without warning. Never let nerves climb up his spine like this.

He fired off a quick dignity recovery message.

But then a new reply popped in.

Missed your call! I'm in LA getting glam for a press shoot, not quite decent rn. Hope everything’s okay x

He breathed out a laugh, shaking his head.

He was in deep.

Mid-morning in LA, you were sitting cross-legged in your hotel robe, trying not to overanalyze every single message in your inbox, when it came in:

Missed video call – Bucky Barnes

You froze. Your thumb hovered over the screen.

Then another buzz.

Didn’t mean to spook you. Just wanted to say hi.

You made a small, inhuman sound and flung the phone across the bed.

“Ok,” you called, your voice sounded too high, and strung out even to your own ears. “Ok what the hell am I meant to do with that?”

Lulu appeared in the doorway, makeup brush in hand, eyes immediately narrowing. “What did he do?”

“He FaceTimed me. And then messaged like it was normal.”

Dani’s voice came from behind her, mid-straightener pass. “Like, just now?”

“I mean, who does that? It’s illegal. That’s an illegal level of confidence.” You couldn't help sounding accusatory.

Lulu snatched up your phone from the bed. “Oh my god.”

“I haven’t replied,” you said, already spiraling. “Do I reply? Am I supposed to reply? Or is it weird if I reply too fast?”

Dani raised an eyebrow. “Babe, the man video called you. I think you’re allowed to text him back.”

Lulu handed your phone back with a snigger.

You tried to stay cool, fire off a super casual reply that didn't sound like you'd thought about nothing but him for the last few days.

“You know what you need?” Lulu said thoughtfully.

You groaned. “I swear to god, if you say a thirst trap I will disown you -”

“A classy thirst trap,” she corrected. “A little bit sexy, little flirty…”

In the background, Dani nodded sagely. “She's right. Robe shot. On the bed. Soft lighting. You’re welcome.”

“C'mon Dan, the fucking bed?”

She pointed at the bed next to the tray where your breakfast was still laid out.

“Bed, now.” She clicked the straighteners together menacingly.

You posted the photo five minutes later then threw your phone onto the bed and tried to pretend you weren’t watching it like a hawk.

It took him exactly three minutes.

You let out a gasp so dramatic that Dani nearly burned herself with the straighteners.

Lulu peeked over your shoulder and cackled. “Pack your bags babe, you’re done for.”

You buried your face in your hands. “Oh, I’m in so much trouble.”

You weren’t imagining it. The post had blown up.

By the time your glam was done, you had texts from your publicist, your brother, and your ex (weird), all asking some variation of: “What’s going on with you and Bucky Barnes?”

You did not have an answer.

The comments were worse.

You didn't reply, this internet storm was his own making and you had to get to work.

The shoot ran long, lighting delays, a wardrobe change, a stubborn clasp on the back of a couture gown that nearly had Becka in tears. By the time you got back to your hotel room, your feet were aching and your face hurt from smiling.

You dropped your bag, kicked off your shoes, and finally checked your phone again.

The notifications were still rolling in, but you didn't dare entertain them.

Instead, you opened his message thread.

You hovered for a second, thumbs ready.

“You just can’t help breaking the internet, can you?”

You stared at it for half a second too long before hitting send.

Then you put your phone on charge across the room and let yourself fall back against the duvet.

“Can’t believe you commented,” Bucky muttered, arms crossed, cap low over his eyes like he could hide from the consequences of his own actions.

Across the aisle, Sam didn't even look up from his phone. “Me? You openly declared you'd like to eat her for breakfast, my friend.”

Bucky scowled. “I did not -”

“You did. The internet’s melting down. I’m getting tagged in memes. Again.”

Bucky shifted in his seat, muttering something about it not meaning like that.

Sam just smirked. “Uh huh. Tell that to the girl blushing in her Instagram story right now.”

Bucky scrubbed a hand over his jaw, suddenly very interested in the in-flight safety card. “It wasn’t like that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “You threw a match in a comment on a thirst trap.”

“It was hardly a thirst trap.”

Sam gave him a look. “She posted it five minutes after your call. That’s tactical warfare, man. And you walked straight into the line of fire.”

Bucky leaned back, head thunking against the seat. “She looked good.”

Sam grinned, triumphant. “There it is.”

A second of quiet passed before Bucky muttered, “I’m in so much trouble.”

“You’re in so much trouble,” Sam agreed cheerfully. “But it’s the fun kind. You know, until it’s not.”

That earned a side-eye. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Hey,” Sam shrugged, “you brought this on yourself, pal. Just don’t catch feelings if you’re not ready to do something about it.”

From across the aisle, Natasha didn’t even look up from her iPad. “You video called her and then commented publicly. Do you want us to set up a billboard on Sunset?”

Bucky groaned. “Nat…”

“I’m just saying,” she said, flicking through looks for the pre-Globes party. “It’s a bold move for someone who allegedly doesn’t date.”

Sam leaned over, smirking. “Told him it was tactical warfare. She posted that robe shot five minutes after he called.”

Nat finally looked up. “She knew what she was doing.”

Bucky muttered something inaudible and tried to sink lower into his seat.

Sam grinned. “Oh, he’s cooked.”

Natasha hummed thoughtfully. “Good. He’s overdue.”

Bucky shot her a glare. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am. Which is why I’m making sure you don’t screw it up.” She tossed him a look over the top of her iPad. “You’re wearing the navy suit, by the way. No arguments.”

“I wasn’t gonna argue.”

“Good.”

The pre-Globes party was already buzzing when he arrived.

Flashbulbs sparked outside with a light that burned through his retinas and left an imprint on his brain. The braying crowd made him want to turn around and call it a night. But Nat had shoved him out of the car with a sharp “Chin up, soldier,” and there wasn’t much point in arguing with her. There never was.

Inside, it was all polished floors and too many famous faces in one room. Everyone dressed like they had something to prove. He tugged slightly at the collar of his navy suit, and ignored the way Sam grinned at him like he was waiting for something to happen.

Because he was. They both were.

His only saving grace was that there were no press invited, only a handful of official photographers.

He hadn’t seen her yet.

Not in person.

Not since the coffee.

And none of the photos he had seen had done her justice.

He was still scanning the crowd when Sam bumped his shoulder. “Don’t look now,” he said, low and gleeful, “but your breakfast just walked in.”

Bucky turned anyway.

And there she was.

Like all of his Christmases come at once.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

It gave him time to watch her. Take her in. The way she laughed with someone by the bar, hand fluttering to her collarbone. The way the soft fabric of her dress caught the light when she moved, like it had been made to be touched.

“Half the men in this room wish she was on their arm tonight,” Sam muttered under his breath, shaking his head.

Bucky didn’t answer.

She'd moved to stand near the balcony doors, a flute of champagne in hand, laughing at something Steve Rogers murmured in her ear. Her dress caught the light every time she moved, like liquid. Steve leaned in closer. Easy, familiar, his palm resting just barely at her back.

Bucky’s jaw flexed.

She'd glanced around once or twice when she first arrived, scanning the room, with a little knit between her brows like she was looking for something. Or someone.

He hadn’t moved.

He wasn't sure his legs would actually work. Not when she looked like that - entirely unaware that she’d just knocked the air out of his lungs.

Natasha appeared at his side, swirling her drink. “You plan on lurking all night?”

He didn’t answer.

She followed his gaze. “Ah. Of course.”

“It’s not -” he started, then stopped. “He's her co-star.”

“And he’s not her type,” Nat assured him after watching them for a few seconds.

“Yeah?” He tried to sound casual.

She smirked. “Because you are, dumny. Watch, every few seconds she's looking around for someone.”

His breath caught.

Nat patted his chest twice. “Go get your girl, Barnes. Before Steve steals your thunder.”

He threw her a quick smile and took off confidently across the room.

He watched it hit her, the moment she spotted him. Surprise. A flicker of nerves. And then that soft smile. Lit from the inside.

She caught her lower lip between her teeth as she looked him up and down.

Bucky swallowed hard.

God, she was beautiful.

Steve greeted him with a grin and clapped him on the back. Bucky answered on autopilot, eyes barely leaving her.

“Good to see you, pal.”

“You too. You clean up alright.”

She looked at him over the rim of her glass, like she was trying not to stare. But he caught the flicker in her eyes, the dip of her gaze, the flush blooming just under her highlighter.

“Figured I had to bring my A-game,” he said, only half a joke, because it was true.

Her smile curled slow and knowing. “Well, consider the internet broken.”

He smirked. “It’s good to see you again too.”

“Oh yeah,” Steve cut in, clearly missing the current, “you guys did that Variety thing. That was fun.”

“Lots of fun,” she said, eyes still locked on Bucky.

Steve launched in without noticing. “You gonna do that new one with me? That 1940s piece? Thor Odinson’s signed on to direct.”

Bucky forced a chuckle. “I dunno, Rogers. I might try theatre. I hear that’s where the real talent is.”

“You could be onto something. Matt Murdock got the rights to that space opera thing for Wanda to direct on Broadway.”

“Starlord,” she said softly, not taking her eyes off Bucky.

“Yeah, that’s the one!”

Her glass was empty. She shifted her weight, just a little, but he noticed.

Time to move.

“Rogers, I’ll catch you later?”

Steve clapped his shoulder again. “Count on it. You’re not weaseling out of Odinson’s movie.”

Bucky turned to her. “I’ll walk you to the bar.”

She didn’t answer. Just smiled, and moved, and that was answer enough.

The crowd was loud, electric. But next to her, everything softened..

When they reached the bar, she turned toward him, and he leaned in, just enough to be close, not enough to cross the line.

“You look incredible.”

Her breath caught. Just for a second. But he felt it.

“I was hoping you’d be here,” she said, voice low, almost shy, but he noticed the tiniest movement of her eyes going to his mouth.

That hit harder than he was ready for.

“Yeah?” he murmured, eyes fixed on hers. “That’s a relief, sweetheart. Because I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

She didn’t look away. Didn’t laugh it off. Just looked up at him like she felt it too, like this thing between them wasn’t just in his head.

And in that moment, he knew.

He needed to kiss her.

He looked past her, just briefly, remembering the layout of the room, and then touched her wrist lightly.

“Come with me?” He murmured. Pleaded, just a little.

She looked confused, but did as he asked, following him to the outskirts of the room where he ducked into a corridor.

“Is everything OK?” She asked quietly.

“Yeah, I just… yeah.”

“Probably not a good idea, hiding like this?”

“I know,” he dragged a hand across his jaw and then stepped closer to her before he could doubt himself. “I don't do this,” he whispered.

“Don't you?” She breathed.

“No. Not like this. Not… where anyone could… I can’t think straight unless I’m looking at you.”

She looked up at him, her tongue darting across her lower lip.

He reached out and trailed its path with the pad of his thumb, his hand coming to rest in the crook of her neck.

He heard her sigh as she reached up to meet him, her small hands on his chest. He was cautious, not wanting to rush her, but wanting everything at once.

As he pressed his lips to hers, he heard a faint moan, unsure whether it came from him, or her.

She tasted like champagne and something sweeter, something he hadn’t had in… such a long time, but suddenly couldn’t get enough of.

Her fingers curled in his lapel, steadying herself, or maybe pulling him in closer. He deepened the kiss just slightly, but only when he felt her pull.

Her tongue tentatively swept against his and she whimpered.

When they finally broke apart, her forehead rested lightly against his. Neither of them moved.

“OK?” she whispered, like she was asking some unspoken question that only he knew the answer to.

He huffed a soft laugh, the kind that only came from total, stunned relief.

“Yeah,” he murmured, brushing his nose against hers. “OK.”

He wasn’t thinking clearly anymore. All he knew was that he needed to feel her, not just her hand on his chest, not just her whisper in his ear, he needed more. Needed her.

She stepped into him like she didn’t even notice she was doing it, like her body had made the decision before her mind caught up. His hand slid down her spine, anchoring her to him as their mouths found each other again, harder this time.

The kiss turned messier, more desperate.

His fingers gripped her hip, her nails scraped lightly across his chest and up to the nape of his neck. It wasn’t polite or careful, it was dangerously public but he couldn't bear to stop himself.

She gasped softly when his teeth grazed her bottom lip. He pulled back just enough to hear the sound, to see the dazed look in her eyes, then kissed her again.

It should’ve just been a kiss. Just one stolen moment in a hallway. But the way she kissed him back, like she’d missed it somehow, it undid him.

Her lips were swollen and her hands shook as she moved them from around his neck.

He didn’t step away.

For a second, neither of them said anything. The only sound was the muffled beat of music from the other room and their uneven breaths.

“Buck?”

Sam’s voice called out, somewhere down the corridor.

She tensed. He did too.

“Shit -, I look -”

“You look perfect,” he told her.

He took a reluctant step back, eyes flicking toward the doorway, then back to her.

“Later?” he asked, voice low. Hopeful.

She gave an uncertain nod, then she was gone, slipping back into the party like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just knocked the air out of his lungs and left him trying to disguise how tight his pants had gotten.

And he was left staring after her, heart hammering, wondering how the hell he was supposed to act normal now. Or ever again.

[cryptidwithaninternetconnection]

This, I’m currently in the age range of 13-15 and I’m genuinely scared to grow up because of how many people have told me how much being an adult sucks and they with they could be a kid again, and my brain chimes in with “I wish I didn’t know how horrible the worlds was yet” it doesn’t help at all.

Part of me is ready to be an adult soley so I can leave the US because of how horrible it’s gotten in terms of stuff like lgbtq rights, abortion, BIPOC rights, etc, it makes me genuinely scared to leave my home in Texas because I’m afraid someone will find out I’m a trans kid and try to kill me.

I’m scared.

(Sorry if I highjacked the post-

I fucking despise when a middle schooler is like “I hate being 13.” and everyone is like “Oh honey, it only gets worse. You don’t know the meaning of struggle.” like no. Let’s be honest. 12-15 is a really difficult age to be. It’s usually when you start waking up to how fucked up the world around you is but you’re still so young and immature that you can’t begin to fix it. It’s a time of horrible change, mentally, physically, prospective-wise.

Personally, it was when the onset of my mental illness developed. My parents’ marriage dissolved in a series of drunk sometimes violent arguments, I was stuck in the house with them, helpless to leave. I would rather kill myself than be 13 again in all honesty. The best part of being 13/14 is that you’ll never be 13/14 again.

[danvazini]

YOU’RE CRAZY AS FUCK, IT’S ADMIRING —

lara had been testing manon’s patience for weeks now, acting as if manon wouldn’t actually hurt her and scare from ever doing anything similar but she didn’t know how far the brunette would actually go.

now playing : rather feel pain by alejandro lema

(📓) possessive!manon , psychotic!manon , kinda toxic!manon , threats , teasing , cunnilingus , dom!manon , top!manon , sub!lara , bratty!lara , lara fucks with manon majority of the time , slight cheating mention but not rlly? , megara mention , choking , slapping , knife play , blood kink , branding kink, dacryphilia (small mention) , neck and shoulder biting , hickeys/markings , etc maybe?

(💚) was this requested? yes, but kind of no. this fic was from an anon on @lara4eclipze ‘s page and i’m just writing it for her — i may be missing some tags but i’m not sure.

word count : 2.1k

my prev katz works + her prev katz works

—

“you know i hate telling you what to do, but are you sure this is a good idea?” lara’s friend asked her via the face time while the indian woman got ready for some dumbass plan she came up with.

“yeah i mean — what’s the worst that could happen” she joked and her friend just looked at her, “oh i don’t know, maybe’s she’d actually kill you???” and lara played it off, “its not even that serious come on.”

after a while they got off the phone, lara texted megan saying she was ready and began walking down the stairs, seeing her girlfriend who was sitting on the couch watching whatever show she had on since the morning.

manon turned around after hearing her girlfriend’s footsteps, and seeing her outfit. “where are you going?” she asked, and her eyebrows furrowed. — “just with some friends, get off my back manon”

the brunette looked at lara like she was fucking insane and looked around for a bit before speaking, “excuse me?” and lara just rolled her eyes, turning around.

“my rides here, i’m gonna go” — before manon was able to say anything, lara had already gone outside and was leaving their driveway.

manon looked at the license plate and the car model and began to piece things together one by one, at first she tried to act like she didn’t care though.

sitting on the couch but as time continued she got more and more uncomfortable, and frustrated. she decided to get into her car and she drove to where lara was, it was kind of funny actually, manon knew lara's every move.

i mean, fuck, she had an airtag on the woman, she knew her location at all times. manon had a few things in the car with her while she drove by the club lara was in, deciding to just let this brew and stay where it was.

which is something she grew to regret, by the next week lara was back at it. they were having an outing with their friends and lara was weirdly all over megan. manon watched this while gritting her teeth, the only thing that would be in her head was hurting lara right then and there but she didn't.

she pulled megan away from her for a bit, walking the younger woman somewhere with her while she had a pocket knife in her fist. manon pulled her to a corner and held megan by her throat while she opened the knife, "make this easier for yourself and stay away from lara."

manon was applying a crazy amount of pressure on megan's neck, she really couldn't breathe already, but she hurried and nodded so manon would let her go. they walked bck like nothing happened, megan rubbing at her neck due to how sore it was.

"awh baby" — you could hear lara say, "are you okay? what happened?" manon scoffed and walked away, she wanted to stab lara right then and there, but again, she didn't. she held off from it. giving lara more leeway, and fuck she regretted that.

lara would practically flirt with other bitches in her face, she literally felt like she was going crazy each time it happened. it was already a lot that day but then to see lara lift megan and put her on the counter just to tend to her wounds after she fell from riding on her on skateboard, manon had enough.

she let lara finish before dragging the indian woman to the car, she drove their shared home and practically threw lara inside. — “why are you being so rough today?" lara asked, trying to play dumb but manon just scoffed, "don't fucking make this worse for yourself."

she dragged the indian woman upstairs, lara tried fighting back but it was almost like it did nothing to stop her.

manon threw her on the bed before just standing there, and looking at lara. the indian woman avoided eye contact, her hair was covering her face while she looked down at the mattress she was on.

“look at me lara” manon spoke, her voice now soft? it threw lara off, but she still looked up at manon. she was much closer to her now, her hand came up to lara’s hair and moved it out of her face.

“you know i love you, right?” manon softly said, and lara nodded, “so why do you make me hurt you so much?” manon shook her head as she pushed lara against the bed gently, straddling the girl’s waist.

lara couldn’t get any words out, almost like manon had her under some type of spell. “i didn’t wanna have to do this, but you keep fucking with me.” manon said in a low voice, bringing her face down and placing it on lara’s shoulder.

within a few seconds, manon’s teeth began digging into lara’s shoulder, the younger girl squirmed and winced, but manon didn’t stop.

she broke off for a bit, and slapped lara. “i’m gonna make you feel every fucking ounce of pain you made me feel while you were out fucking with every person who looked your way.”

the brunette began gently undressing lara, which continued to confuse lara, why was she being so soft if she was so mad? manon used one hand and pinned lara’s wrist above her head.

“don’t fight this, it’ll only hurt a bit” manon whispered in lara’s ear while the blade began to carve into her waist. lara continued to squirm, not able to stay still.

“fuck lara, stop.” manon said, setting the blade aside before applying pressure onto lara’s throat. manon used all of her strength on her while lara tried to get her off, “i hate hurting you, baby”

manon said, the fame sympathy obvious in her voice. “you mean so much to me, you know?” manon said, letting go and watching the indian woman struggle to get her breath back.

the brunette had gotten off of her, “now just stay still” — manon continued to carve her name in lara’s waist and once she was down she backed off to look at her work and smiled to herself.

manon had a thing for branding, for making it obvious she owned lara, it was never anything normal and lara knew that. but she always wanted to see how far the brunette would actually go.

manon had been threatening her life for weeks now, each time she would fuck with her, she’d always hold a knife to her throat that same night. — once she was actually close to slitting her throat but lara was crying, it didn’t make her stop but it didn’t happen.

manon cleaned up the wound that she put on the indian woman, seeing the way she was shaking while manon cleaned her, she just went up to her and kissed her forehead.

“i love you baby, i’m sorry this had to happen” manon gently said, and lara just nodded. she was too scared to say something at this point, but did she actually learned anything from what just happened? — fuck no.

within the next two weeks, she was back at it, and now always kissing and holding megan, especially during times she never needed to be held.

manon learned to count before she reacted but it became obvious that lara liked being treated the way manon would treat her, she liked being bruised up and hurt.

but something lara could almost never take was sexual torture, so manon decided to take her anger out that way.

same scenario as before, but instead of it being on a random night, she decided to take lara out, on a nice date.

just, doing everything under the sun to throw lara off for what was set for her. lara was actually clueless all night, while manon drove back home, she could only smile to herself knowing the exact position she was about to have the girl in.

once they made it inside, manon asked her to go upstairs so she could see the other half of the surprise. manon wasted no time following behind the indian woman after just a few minutes, seeing that she was already on the bed, only in lingerie.

“only if you knew how tonight was actually gonna go” manon mumbled as she layed lara against the bed, the two shared a romantic kiss while manon felt along lara’s body.

their hands cupped together while manon slid her fingers into the thin lace underwear lara wore, her fingers spreading her pussy lips open and one finger penetrating her.

lara’s back arched, her eyes slowly rolled back while manon pushed another finger in. the brunette’s soft lips kissed against lara’s ribs, following down her abdomen and she left little hickeys along her trail.

once manon made it between lara's thighs, she kissed at lara's thighs, teasing her after retracting her fingers. only giving a small kiss to lara's clit before continuing to kiss her inner thigh, lara began moving her hips, trying to gain any friction from the woman above her.

lara pulled off manon's shirt, seeing manon's breast just plastered in front of her, she couldn't help but grab at them through the bra. manon chuckled at how desperate lara looked while she was grabbing at her chest, she dipped her head back down and began gently eating lara out.

lara's brain was so mushy by this point, she was already so dumb , it was funny to manon. the incoherent moans that would spill from her mouth and the desprate grabs at manon's hair while she inched closer to her orgasm.

manon pulled off right before lara got to cum, making her whine, her pretty eyes were hooded and looking up at manon's sadistic ones. "don't thnk i forgot" she said and got off the bed, manon pulled off the shorts she had on and it revealed the strap that she had been wearing all day.

lara's vision was so blurry already though, she was completely blinded by the need of her orgasm and the way she was throbbing, manon had gently pushed the silicone dick inside of lara, which made the brown girl gasp.

manon saw the way lara clenched around the toy, she was so wet that it easily slid inside, the toy made a bulge inside of lara's stomach manon pulling out her phone to take a picture of it. she held the younger woman's waist while she slammed the toy inside of her, manon was still taking her anger out on lara, and as time progressed, lara got closer, and she pulled out, leaving lara with no sensations.

lara whined and begged, did everything she could but manon didn't let her cum, not for a long time. manon turned the black haired woman around, pushing the strap back inside of her, laying her against the mirror that faced their bed.

manon began slamming her hips against lara's ass, the indian woman's face going inside of the pillow while she moaned out manon's name. manon only laughed at the way lara was reacting, manon held lara's hips, applying pressure to the area she held, so much that it left a bruise on her.

lara grew closer and closer to her orgasm again, this time crying and begging manon to let her cum. the swiss woman never answered her though, she instead just sped up as fast as her body would allow her. it only took a few thrusts before lara came, her body shaking as the strong wave of peasure came over her.

manon laughed at how fast lara got tired out, just watching the indian woman lay there panting. mann began moving her hips again but lara shook herhad, "no no please, i can't take aymore" — manon let it go and go off of lara, she softly turned the indian woman over on her back.

"i-i'm sorry darling" that's all lara was able to get out, her voice was shaky and her breathing scattered. manon just held lara, kissing her neck and shushing her, "you'll do it again, and that's okay. there's always something new coming your way"

lara turned around and hid her face in manon's chest, the older woman just played in her hair while lara's breathing slowly paced back. — after they were done, lara was up taking pictures of the bruises and the carving of manon’s name that was on her chest, the bite marks manon gave her and more, just smiling to herself that she had finally got marked up.

[moonchild9350]

Lavender Fields Chapter Three: Happiness

Summary: your first session with Hyunjin is here and it’s filled with new opportunities with both of you finding yourselves growing closer.

Pairing: Hyunjin x humanoid!gn!reader

Genre: angst, fluff, sci fi au, romance au

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: mention of a nightmare

Notes: I enjoyed writing this chapter as it made me happy lol I hope you enjoy it as well! Let me know what you think of the chapter as always!

Taglist is open-just ask or dm me to be added (age must be in bio or pinned)

Series Summary: You, a humanoid from a different planet, was born within a lab here on earth in the near future, your days filled with servitude and testing within the labs to learn more about your kind as your kind are not able to feel emotion. you had nothing to look forward to until you met Hyunjin, a technician assigned to you. you learn much at his hands and invaluable lessons, enlightening your once purposeless life.

Divider by @cafekitsune

Please do not copy, translate, modify, use, or repost my work elsewhere without my permission. ©moonchild9350 (2024)

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The next morning you woke up suddenly, sitting straight up in your bed. There was a thin sheen of sweat littering your face and strands of hair plastered to your cheek.

You placed your hand on your chest, feeling your heart beat rapidly, almost as if it were going to jump out of your chest.

You couldn’t remember what happened exactly, just that you were younger, a little child. You were being dragged away from your mother by another woman.

Your mother’s face was wet and she seemed distraught, her hand reaching out to yours. You tried to reach your hand to grasp hers, but you were too short, your fingers grasping empty air.

The moment seemed so long ago yet so close.

You took a couple of deep breaths, willing yourself to calm down. You knew sleep would be hard to come by now so you decided to stay awake.

You grabbed your favorite book, the one with the lavender fields picture and read, getting lost in the words on the page.

Time passed and before you knew it, there was a knock on your door. You set your book down and sat up straight, watching the door as it swung open.

“Let’s go dear,” the orderly said, gesturing for you to follow her.

You got up and walked behind her, following her until you arrived at the dressing rooms. She helped you get dressed and then guided you to a door.

She stopped short and turned to you. “Hyunjin is waiting for you dear, go ahead in.”

You nodded, twisted the knob swinging the door open, and stepped into what looked like an office.

There were shelves along each wall, hundreds of books stacked haphazardly within them. A black couch was in the middle of the room pilled high with pillows.

You eyes wandered the expanse of the room until they landed on Hyunjin who was sitting in a large chair behind a wooden desk. He was looking through various papers, the rustling sound heard throughout the room.

At your entrance, he looked up, a smile gracing his face.

“Ahh y/n! Come in, have a seat please,” he said gesturing toward the couch.

You shuffled over, sitting down on the plush cushions. Once settled you looked expectedly at Hyunjin.

“Slept well?” Hyunjin asked, raising his eyebrows at you.

“Hmm ok I guess, I woke up in a fit. I remembered being taken away from my mother.”

Hyunjin regarded you for a moment, his eyes studying you. He could see pain in your eyes mixed with confusion. His heart went out to you and how you must have been feeling.

“Ahh I think you had a nightmare. Those are horrible but they go away.”

A nightmare. You tagged the phrase away so you could remember it for next time…if next time ever occurred, which you hoped it wouldn't.

“Well let’s get started on our first session!” Hyunjin said excitedly. “We will be looking at a series of videos today. And then I’ll have you tell me what you observed and what you think about them. Ok?”

You nodded and sat up straighter, wandering what he would show you.

Hyunjin got up and turned off the lights, his office darkening instantly as there was no other light source. He pressed a button on a box, a screen coming to life in the corner of the room.

You watched as he navigated the screen. You couldn’t see what was there however, as his body was blocking your line of sight.

After some time, he backed away and sat back down behind his desk.

“Alright y/n, here’s the first video.”

Your eyes focused on the screen, watching as a few people appeared. They were sitting around a bunch of boxes as they chattered animatedly.

One person suddenly picked up a box and handed it to another person and so on until everyone had passed a box around.

You tilted your head to the side, watching as they tore the paper off of the box and opened the lid. Many of the people shouted as they smiled at the items in their hands. They wrapped their arms around each other and squeezed tight saying ‘thank you’ over and over.

The whole ordeal was strange to you, never having experienced it.

Hyunjin observed you, his eyes intense as he watched your body language. You seemed relaxed, intent on focusing on the screen. He smiled as he saw you cock your head, confusion on your face as the presents were opened.

The clip came to an end, the screen going black. You looked towards Hyunjin, feeling a warmth inside you.

“Ok y/n, what do you think? How do you feel?”

You took a moment to consider his question, not sure what he was expecting. You opted to describe the warm feeling you were experiencing, thinking that was a good place to start.

“When I saw the group of people gather, and smile like you do, and scream I felt a warmth within my chest here,” you said placing your hand over your heart.

Hyunjin smiled at your response as he straightened up in his chair. He was giddy and getting ahead of himself as the session seemed to be progressing smoothly.

“Excellent! Let’s move on, yeah?” Hyunjin replied as he willed himself to calm down.

You nodded turning to the screen again. Another group of people were on the screen, this time gathered around a table as everyone ate food. They seemed to all be engaging with one another, smiles on their faces as they spoke.

It was so different than what you’re used to, the image of your quiet and uneventful meal times popping to mind. The warm feeling seemed to grow larger, and you found the edges of your mouth tipping up, your muscles tightening and spreading to show your teeth.

You mimicked their smile, the action seeming right in the moment. Hyunjin grinned, elated at this discovery. He clapped his hands and turned the video off.

You dropped your smile and looked at Hyunjin, your eyes widened, worried your did something wrong.

“I’m amazed, this is great! Did you felt the same way after watching that clip?”

You nodded your head yes. It was very peculiar the warmth you felt. You felt your heart leap and your mind soar. The thought made you want to go to them, talk with them and join them in their screaming? What was that? No one was running but instead their eyes were closed, their bodies doubled over as they let out the sound.

You’ve heard some of the orderlies and technicians emit the same sound, never directly in front of you however. You wanted to know what it was, never having experienced it yourself. Could you ask Hyunjin?

You looked at him, taken aback at how intensely he was staring at you. He seemed ok, better than Raoul at least. You didn’t think he would come after you if you asked a question.

Hyunjin could tell that your mind was churning, a storm brewing in that brain of yours. He was curious as to what you were thinking about, what has your gaze on him, your lips pursed and eyes scrunched in concentration.

He couldn’t help but think how cute you looked, your long, wavy hair draped over your shoulders, obscuring the horrid gowns they made your kind wear. 'I needed to be careful,' he thought as he shook this thought from his head. His journey with you has only begun, he can’t mess up this opportunity because of his own feelings.

“Something on your mind?” He asked, prompting you to share what was going on in that pretty head of yours.

You hesitated for a moment before deciding to proceed with your question, your curiosity getting the best of you over your own survival.

“I was just wondering what that sort of ‘scream’ was that the people let out? I’ve heard the others around the lab do the same…” you trailed off at the end, stopping yourself before you gave yourself away.

You didn’t want anyone to know you were watching them, observing them, and learning their ways, curious on how humans differ so much from your kind, but yet are so similar.

Hyunjin smiled, not perturbed by your question at all. “That is laughter y/n. Someone spoke of something funny and the others replied with laughter. It’s a joyous feeling.”

You considered what Hyunjin said, your mind memorizing the sound, mechanics of the action, and when to use it. You thought long and hard before looking up at him and letting the edge of your lips curl, wanting to try out the action.

You felt your cheeks bunch, as you revealed your teeth before you let out a laugh, the sound shrill and loud in the otherwise quiet room. You quickly shut your mouth once you heard the sound, your eyes widening at the fact you made that sound.

However, you felt giddy, warm, your face hot at the action causing you to do it again. Your laughter rang out, echoing off the walls in the small room. You couldn’t stop, as you felt liberated, different, and something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Hyunjin was ecstatic at your progress, a key emotion discovered with this session. He listened to your sweet laughter, his heart swelling at the sound. He’s never heard anything more angelic in his life. He watched as you smiled, blush darkening your cheeks as you continued to laugh.

He smiled before signaling for you to stop. After all, he didn’t want someone to hear you if they happened to be walking by his office.

You noticed Hyunjin’s hand, a soft and brief gesture signaling for you to quiet down. You stopped immediately, your heart quickening, watching his face for any signs as to how he would respond.

You shrank back slightly into the couch as he stood up and walked around his desk. He walked until he was in front of the wooden structure and rested against it, his hands in his coat pocket.

“Excellent, y/n. I’d say this session was a success!” Hyunjin exclaimed as he smiled.

You let out the breath you were holding, air rapidly filling your lungs as you took a deep breath just to let it out.

“We will continue our next session in a few days time. I must write my report.”

You watched as he pressed a button on his desk, an orderly showing up moments later at the door.

“Please take y/n back to her room please,” Hyunjin ordered.

You noticed it was Grace, the orderly who took you away from Raoul the day before. You followed her without fuss, turning to look back at Hyunjin once more as you neared the door.

He was watching you leave, a smile on his face as he nodded slightly as if to say ‘good job and goodbye.’ You quickly faced forward again before Grace could notice and exited the office. — — You had made great progress, that was a fact Hyunjin thought as he rounded his desk again. It was to be expected however after he looked at the data from previous sessions and his observations of you throughout the facility.

He was amazed at how quickly you grasped the concept of an emotion and how eager you were to test it out. He quickly but efficiently made notes on today’s encounter, elaborating on your reactions and responses to the clips.

Hyunjin however made two separate copies of notes, one for his personal use and one for the board. He wasn’t quite ready for them to know the extent of your knowledge, wanting to keep you to himself for a little while longer.

He also felt the need to protect you, the feeling running deeper than he realized. It’s been a while since he’s had any form of companionship, opting to focus on his career first and foremost. However, he felt his priorities start to change when he laid eyes on you.

He put down his pen and reached into his bag, his fingers brushing against a chain safely on attached to a board. He would visit you once more today before he made it to his progress meeting this afternoon.

Hyunjin only hopes you’ll like his little surprise. — — Once you were back in your room, you sat on your bed facing your mural. You learned so much during today’s session, more than you have during your time here.

This laughter must be a feeling that the humans discuss all the time. If it truly was, you rather enjoyed it, the feeling felt nice as you thought about it.

Standing up, you walked over to your paints. You began to organize your space, making sure you had everything you needed to continue your mural.

You picked up the pretty shade of purple and mixed some with some white paint, creating a beautiful shade of light purple that would match the lavender flowers in your book.

You let your mind wander as your hand moved across the wall. You applied delicate strokes, wide strokes, narrow strokes, creating the intricate details of the beautiful flowers.

You began to hum, the song bringing the smile back to your face. As your voice rang out, your mind drifted to your mother, briefly remembering how she would sing this song to you, while gently brushing your hair.

It was a nice time, a memory you did not want to forget, unlike so many others.

You were so lost in your painting, that you did not hear the knock at your door. As the lock clicked and door opened, you dropped your paint brush, jumping slightly at the interruption.

Turning towards the door, you noticed Hyunjin standing there, a sheepish smile on his face.

“Knock, knock, can I come in?” He asked as he stepped into your room, closing the door gently.

You set down your paints and faced him, wondering why he was here at what you assumed was a late hour.

“I um…just came to check on you, make sure you were all right after today’s session.”

Hyunjin’s eyes wandered around your room, taking in your simple bed made to perfection and your book shelf filled with books. The sight made him smile, as he could imagine you curled up with a book as you filled your head with its contents.

He continued the tour of the room, his head turning to view the painting on the wall. He eyes widened at the sight as he was taken aback at the beauty of it all. He had no idea that you were so talented, your feelings depicted on the concrete, even if you were not aware of it.

“This is impressive,” he breathed as he walked closer to you, his eyes taking in every detail of the painting.

You watched his reaction as he took in your masterpiece, a small smile forming as you gazed at him. You couldn’t help but stare at his profile, your heart beating faster as you took in his eyes, his little mole beneath his eye, to his hair.

You felt the need to reach out and run your fingers through the strands, wandering if they felt as soft and smooth as it looked. You quickly recovered however, clearing your mind as you focus on Hyunjin. You’re not sure what just happened.

“Why did you choose a lavender field?” Hyunjin asked, turning to look at you.

You walked over to your book shelf and eyed the books, looking for your favorite one. Spotting it, you picked it up and thumbed through the pages, looking for the picture with the beautiful flowers.

“Here it is,” you murmured as you walked back over to Hyunjin. “Lavender fields. The flowers are really beautiful. When I look at them, I feel warm and at peace. It is similar to what I explained after watching those films today.”

Hyunjin stared at you in shock. You were describing feeling happy. These flowers made you feel happy. He made a mental note to write this fact down once he got back to his office.

“Y/n, what you are describing is an emotion we call happiness. When something or someone makes you happy, you can feel warm inside, may laugh or smile like the people in the film.”

Hyunjin paused, as you took in his words as you seemed to be deep in thought.

So that’s what it was, happiness, you were feeling happy. It was a joyous feeling at that and you are glad your painting and books made you experience this.

You walked over to your bed and sat down, placing the book in your lap. You stared at the page, your fingers gently tracing over the lines of the picture, the stems and color slowly fading after so many years of you tracing the photo.

You felt the bed dip, as Hyunjin sat next to you. You could feel his eyes on you, as he watched you study the picture. You sat in silence for a while, the sound of your soft breathing filling the room. You could hear your heart pounding within your chest as you felt the warmth radiating off the man next to you.

You took in his scent, the smell pleasant to your senses as you deciphered something along the lines of vanilla and honey. It was comforting, your body relaxing as you breathed him in.

After a while you broke the silence, believing it okay to let Hyunjin know what has been on your mind.

“I want to see them some day, a lavender field. I want to walk through the flowers, to see if they are as soft as they seem, if they give off a sweet fragrance as the book describes.”

You sighed, resting your hand on your book, willing your heart to calm. At first Hyunjin stayed silent, his eyes still on you as he contemplated your desire. He wants nothing more than for you to succeed and be happy and now he has gained insight into your mind, one of your desires voiced.

He knows it must have taken great courage to divulge this secret, as you risk a lot voicing it. Your secret was safe with him that was for sure. And maybe, just maybe, one day he can take you to see such a field. He smiled at the thought of standing by your side in such a field, taking in such a beautiful sight.

“That is a beautiful dream y/n. I hope one day it may come true,” Hyunjin said as he continued to look at you.

You looked up at his words and faced him, staring into his brown eyes. There was something there, his eyes trying to tell you something, however you are not sure what.

You could feel your cheeks flush, as blood rushed to the area, as he matched your gaze. You placed your hand on your heart, feeling it rapidly thump underneath your palm.

Without a moments hesitation, you placed your hand on Hyunjin’s chest directly over is heart. Hyunjin stared at you in shock, but sat still, his eyes on yours as you both sat there in silence. You felt his heart beat, the rhythm matching yours in speed.

He must be feeling the same way you are right now…happy. You smiled at the thought, the joy reaching your eyes.

Hyunjin was taken aback at your actions, watching as you smiled. He would give anything to know what was going through your head. Instead of break the silence however, he sat there and let you feel his heart that was beating wildly, your touch affecting him more than he wanted to let on.

A few moments passed and you quickly dropped your hand, your eyes cast downwards so as not to meet Hyunjin’s eyes. You’re not sure why you did what you did, but you would do it again, that much you know.

You liked how warm his skin felt against yours, the reminder that the same blood that flowed through you also flowed through him as well; that his heart beats just like yours, matching your pace. The thought was nice, giving you reassurance that maybe humans weren’t so far different from you after all.

Hyunjin took a few breaths, willing his heart to slow down after what just occurred. You truly were different, a fact in which he liked very much. He remembered the object stored away in his pocket, something he grabbed last minute before he headed to your room.

He really was playing with fire if he went through with what he wanted to do, but he considered you worth it. He wanted your relationship to continue to flourish, for reasons he was not sure about it, the thought of wanting to help you integrate into society and his own personal feelings mixing in a dangerous way.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the necklace and turned to face you a little better.

You noticed Hyunjin fidgeting in his pocket, pulling out something a moment later. Looking down at his hand, you saw a necklace laying delicately in his palm. You thought it beautiful, like your lavender fields, the stars and moon that were attached to the chain shining from the light.

“I got this for you y/n, it reminded me of you.” Hyunjin said smiling.

You were speechless, unsure of what to say. You racked your brain for the appropriate response, trying to remember what the people said in the video when they received the boxes filled with goods. A moment later, you remembered the phrase.

“Thank you,” you said, smiling back at him.

“Can I put it on you?”

You nodded and watched as Hyunjin stood up and walked behind you. You felt his fingers brush your hair to the side, exposing your neck, goosebumps popping up at the sudden exposure to the cold.

Hyunjin placed the necklace gently around your neck before fastening the clasp. Once he was done, he walked back to where he was sitting, his eyes finding the necklace perched on your chest.

He thought it beautiful, definitely suiting you as you were as unique as the moon and stars that littered the sky at night.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he said softly. “You’ll need to store it away before leaving your room so the orderlies and higher ups will not see it. Okay?”

You nodded your head, your fingers reaching up to touch the pendant. You’ve never been gifted anything before. You felt happy and would take care of the necklace as you do all of your possessions.

After another moment of silence, Hyunjin stood up. “Well, I should be going, I need to finish up some work before calling it a night. I’ll see you at your next session.”

You watched as he looked at your mural again before walking to the door, exiting your room as quietly as he came. What a strange encounter you couldn’t help but think. You wondered if your peers have experienced happiness as you have. Maybe you would ask them if you ever got the chance, which was highly unlikely.

You stood up and went back to painting, your other hand reaching up to touch the moon and star pendant occasionally. You found yourself smiling as you continued to mix the swirls of color, painting with renewed fervor. — — Hyunjin was almost late to his debrief. He was jogging through the halls, your file in hand. He arrived only a few minutes late, but by the looks on the faces of the chief and other technicians, even those few minutes were unacceptable.

“Come in Hyunjin, let’s get started. What data have you gathered on y/n? Your first session was today correct? And you spent some time with them yesterday as well?” The chief said as Hyunjin sat down and opened his file.

“Yes, I did meet with them yesterday and today. There is much to learn from y/n, I haven’t made any strides yet, but I believe I will soon.”

Hyunjin was lying. He’s never lied to the chief before, but he felt he had to in order to protect you. He knew what would happen if he reported what he discovered, that you were capable of expressing and experiencing emotions just like humans.

He wanted more time with you, to get to know you, and help you learn without interference. Hyunjin kept a straight face as he reported, his eyes meeting the chiefs. There was a moment as the chief stared him down, trying to find any cracks in his words.

After a while, the chief nodded, seemingly satisfied with his answer. Hyunjin didn’t dare let out the breath he was holding, opting to breathe shallow breaths as he waited for the chief’s response.

Time went past, the silence was deafening. Something was wrong Hyunjin thought. Why hasn’t the chief said anything. Hyunjin tried not to fidget in his chair. He tried to keep eye contact with those around him. He tried not to think of his notes that he kept hidden in the drawer of his desk, stored safely behind a false backing.

He could hear a clock somewhere in the room, the rhythmic tic tock slowly getting to him. Hyunjin was about to say something, to see if anything was wrong, when the door opened, a man stepping into the silent room.

Hyunjin couldn’t believe his eyes, as Raoul walked to an empty seat and sat down, a smirk on his face as he looked at Hyunjin.

“Excellent, now that we’re all here, let’s continue,” the chief said.

What is going on? Why is Raoul here? Something is definitely not right.

Hyunjin was sweating, his shirt sticking to his body as he tried to maintain a steady breath.

“Now, why don’t you give us the real report Hyunjin and don’t you lie again. I know everything that has gone down with your little 'sessions',” Raoul sneered.

Shit. This isn’t good. Hyunjin scrambled to make an excuse, his mind set on protecting you and your future. Taking a deep breath, he steadied himself and looked at everyone gathered around the table.

‘Here goes nothing. Im sorry y/n, I will protect you at all costs.’ He thought as he began to rectify his previous statement, his heart heavy.

“Here is everything I’ve learned so far about y/n.”

Taglist: @jehhskz @jeonginsleftcheek @simpforleeknaur @armystay89 @palindrome969 @slut4hee @ivydoesit23 @amarecerasus @kaysungshine @fun-fanfics @baby-stay92 @velvetmoonlght @possum-playground @frehyun @seungminsbest @nightmarenyxx @linocvp1d @ddroh @redlightsallnight @eastjonowhere @stayjinnie @techsgoggles @puccaaak @krayzieestay @skzfelixlove @amenabiii @qwonyoung23 @skzdreamer13

[modanisgf]

001. TRAPHOUSE (WRITTEN)

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— IF y/n was sure about anything it was the fact that she was going to kill kang yunseo. the girl was giggling beside her as their manager told y/n about an upcoming awards show, and the fact that she would be an mc for it.

if this was any other day, y/n sure as hell wouldn’t have agreed but fortunately for her danielle from newjeans would be her partner. you would be lying if you said you hadn’t developed a liking to the girl, despite your limited interactions. yunseo knew this, causing her to tell their manager that y/n wanted the job badly without ever telling her.

the youngest member of saturnz was always starting some kind of trouble, so y/n couldn’t exactly be surprised. the girl let out a sigh as the two of them were finally excused from the meeting, y/n's eyes never meeting yunseo’s as she stared her down.

“are you mad?” she asks quietly, making the older girl shake her head.

“why would i be mad yun?” y/n says to the younger girl, giving her a small smile.

“this gives me a chance to talk to danielle, so thank you.” she says, a smile emerging on yunseo’s face at her words.

“yeah, don’t blow it y/n.” she says smirking, making y/n groan.

“we can’t ever have a sweet moment.”

—

y/n had always loved the sunset. it calmed her to see the bright orange circle set, ending the day, finally. she sat on the couch that was near the window, her attention fully turned to the sky as the sun set. it was sad y/n couldn’t go outside and see it, but she managed.

aera sits down next to y/n, the girl taking in the beautiful colors in front of her.

“it’s always so pretty,” aera says softly, whispering it in a low tone to her younger member.

“i know, it reminds me of home.” y/n responds before continuing to bask in the beauty of the sunset. a smile arose on her face, making aera smile.

"are you ready for tomorrow?" she asks, to which y/n nods.

"it'll help us, i hope.” y/n says quietly.

“y/n..”

“aera, we need any publicity we can get.” y/n states firmly, the thought of everything that had happened so far since debut irritating her.

aera nods silently, choosing not to fight with y/n today. the girl was determined to get her members and her out, she’d do anything for them.

the silence was loud as y/n’s head hit her pillow, making her wince at the hardness of it.

“jia, did you put something under my pillow again?” y/n says, glaring at her other member laying in a small bed next to her.

“oh yeah my bad, i forgot to get my walkie talkie from under there.” jia says, trying to suppress her laughter.

“are you serious?” y/n says, in disbelief.

“no! i don’t know what’s under your pillow?” jia says, appalled at her members stupidity.

y/n rolled over quickly, picking up the pillow to reveal a small box.

“how the hell did you miss that?”

“oh shut up!”

y/n took the box in her hands, opening it carefully as if it was an artifact. the box revealed a small bracelet, having letter beads on it. it spelt out ‘saturnz’, following a heart.

“aera.” y/n says softly, trying to hold back her tears.

jia sat up, looking at the bracelet with a smile on her face.

“she always knows how to make us happy.” jia says, looking at y/n now.

even if it was such a small gesture, it didn’t fail to make y/n smile. aera knew she felt down earlier, so she made her a bracelet to remind her of her members when she was out. y/n sighed, the girl was always so thoughtful.

“i wouldn’t trade it for the world.”

TAGS 🏷️ (OPEN): @neptunedayss @pandafuriosa60 @yeetaberry127 @yncoreee @hotluvlet @eccobe @sixflame438 @saysirhc @haerinkisser @gtfoiydlyj @audizbiass @starstruckgoateepuppy @gigislovergirl @airice @danilvrr @mimsiemoo @pminjucaptor @gayforalll @yjiminswallet @grahstumhurts @nwjnsloona @he------len

[absinthe-over-tea]

either way it's gonna || the pitt

pt 2 <<prev • next>>

pairing: jack abbott x f!resident!reader warnings: age gap (older man/younger woman), probably lots of medical inaccuracies, brief mentions of rehab and miscarriage a/n: Did I stay up until 2 a.m. to post this bc Jack Abbot and The Pitt have fully taken over my brain? Yes, yes, I did. This story is just getting started and I hope to keep posting updates throughout the week as I have time to write, so let me know if y'all want me to start a tag list?

As predicted, Robby was on the roof nursing a beer. Though at least tonight he was on this side of the railing. 

“Should I be worried about how often I find you up here these days?” Before PittFest a little over a month ago, it was rare for Robby to come up to the roof unless he was looking for Jack. Now, he was up here more nights than not. 

“You sound like Heather.” 

“Dr. Collins is a smart woman.” 

They both stood there leaning against the railing in silence, staring out over the skyline of downtown Pittsburgh in the distance. Jack knew better than to push Robby for a real answer. If he wanted to talk about what happened today, he would. If not, Jack was content to spend a few minutes in silence before what was sure to be another hectic shift. 

The sun was starting to set, and the soundtrack of the city was starting to morph from day to night — honking from rush hour commuters replaced by live music and happy hour laughter. The bar down the block that the day shift residents were always heading to after shift was playing some new pop song that Jack had heard too many times on the radio. He wondered briefly if you would head there after today’s shift with the others, or if you were the type to keep work and your personal life in two completely separate boxes. 

“So, I met your new resident downstairs,” Jack broke the silence. 

Robby’s eyes cut over to him, one eyebrow raised in that annoying Robby way that meant he was reading into something Jack would really rather him not. 

“Yeah, I needed a backfill for Langdon, and Gloria only made me promise half my soul in exchange. She’s a transfer from Mercy.” 

“She any good?” 

He tried to sound casual, unaffected — just an attending asking another attending about a new resident. But the way Robby fully turned to look at Jack suggested that he was unsuccessful. He pointedly ignored the growing smirk on his friend’s face. 

“Very. Calm under pressure, quick to diagnose, generous with the interns and med students. She’ll be an asset. Gloria actually smiled when she looked at her resumé, amd I didn’t know she was even capable of anything other than a disappointed frown.”

Jack just nodded slowly, keeping his eyes trained on the skyline as Robby continued to study him with his arms crossed over his chest and hip propped up against the railing. 

“I can’t tell if you’re asking because you want to sleep with her or because you want to steal her for the night shift.” 

“Oh fuck off, I’m not trying to steal her,” Jack rolled his eyes. He’d technically stolen Ellis away from day shift after her intern year, and Robby still hadn’t let it go. And even if Jack was plotting to steal you to add to the night shift roster, it’d be fair game. Night shift was even more understaffed than the day shift. 

“So you’re trying to sleep with her then?” 

Jack nearly gave himself whiplash turning to glare at Robby. “No, I’m not trying to—that’s not why I—Christ, Robby, she’s like half my age!” 

Robby barked out an amused laugh, shoulders shaking with what could only be described as unabashed glee while Jack sputtered out his response. “That must have been one hell of a first impression, Brother. I don’t know if I’ve ever seen you this flustered.” 

“I’m not flustered. Forget I said anything. Maybe I do want to steal her for the night shift,” he grumbled. “Get someone to keep Shen on his toes.” 

“Whatever you say, man. God, I need that after today. Thanks.” He pushed off from the railing and headed back to the door inside, still chuckling to himself. Jack followed behind him with a deep sigh, regretting almost every life choice that led him to becoming friends with this asshole. 

*** 

You liked working at The Pitt. It was a faster pace than Mercy. More cases, higher stakes, less oversight. Given how often you saw Gloria following around a visibly annoyed Robby, her heels clacking rapidly against the vinyl tiling, you suspected that last bit was thanks to him shielding the ED from higher influences. 

Robby was a great boss, and Dana ran a tight ship. Plus, there was a real sense of camaraderie between the staff that you didn’t realize you were missing before. It’s always a red flag when an HR department tells you that a workplace is “like a family,” and you thankfully hadn’t heard anyone say that during your interview process at PTMC. But you also sort of felt like it might be true in this case. 

The Pitt was sort of a family. A wildly dysfunctional one, but a family nonetheless. And you’d been in desperate need of one. 

Collins was a tough chief resident, but she was constantly looking out for everyone else. Princess and Perlah may endlessly bully poor Whittaker, who was hands-down the most unlucky person you’d ever met in your life, but you’d seen them both slide a piece of candy across the counter toward him on numerous occasions when he was having the kind of shift that left him cycling through multiple sets of scrubs. Santos could be a pain in the ass, but she also didn’t hesitate to throw herself in between Mel and a patient who was getting a little too aggressive.

And by the end of your first month on the job, they’d brought you into the fold, too. 

You and Collins got close quickly. During your first week, you’d accidentally stumbled across her crying in the stairwell. You’d sat down with her quietly, just so she wouldn’t be alone, and after shift, she told you about her miscarriage and the case that had triggered her tears earlier in the day. You told her about breaking down in the ambulance bay after the kid whose father accidentally pushed them down the stairs during a bender. She wasn’t a lesser doctor because a case got to her; you all had your shit, and in the end, it made you better doctors. 

The guys invited you to join in on the betting board — something Mercy most certainly did not have. Everyone bet on everything, but there was also a mason jar at the nurses station labeled “coffee stash,” and every single person who won money from the pool shoved a few bills into the jar from their winnings. Dana used it for cafe coffee runs on hard shifts and beer runs after good ones. 

Santos and Mel always invited you out for drinks after shift, even though you said no more often than not so you could visit your mom before visiting hours ended. Robby fist bumped you after successful cases you worked together. Princess told you about the unofficial bet the nurses had going on about Javadi and Mateo. 

Things were…good. Great, even. 

And then there was Dr. Abbot. 

You’d been so fucking embarrassed after that first meeting — snapping at him like he was an intern and then rambling like a moron before essentially running away. The absolute height of professionalism. 

But he didn’t seem to hold it against you. If anything, it seemed that unfortunate introduction had somehow endeared you to the stoic night shift attending. You weren’t sure if it was borne from how you handled that code, the bumbling apology after, or the ironic duality of the two interactions happening back-to-back (you really hoped it was the former). But the next time you were both working on the same patient, he’d handed you a pair of iris scissors and walked you through your first-ever emergency lateral canthotomy. 

After, he’d given you a proud smile. “Hell of a job, doctor. You just saved this man’s eye.” 

You didn’t get to work with him every day, only on the days he came in early for his shift or you stayed late to wrap up a case or catch up on paperwork. But the occasions when your time in the ED did overlap, you found yourself gravitating toward him. He was gruff, no-nonsense. He scared the shit out of the interns, and the nurses all had stories about him Macgyvering procedures. But he was also a phenomenal doctor and a patient teacher. Had a clear soft spot for vets and kids. 

And yeah, okay, he was unfairly handsome. You weren’t above admitting that to yourself. The corded muscles along his forearms, broad shoulders, the constant five o’clock shadow, the salt and pepper hair grown out just long enough to start to curl, the slight rasp in his voice. It was a very specific combination that caused a weird swooping sensation in your belly every time you locked eyes with him. 

You asked Collins about him at the bar one night, three whiskey diet cokes deep and unable to hold the question back. 

“What about him? He's the most senior night shift attending. Great doctor. Surprisingly good teacher, given the whole ‘ED cowboy’ reputation. He’s worked at The Pitt for… 7 years now, I think? Obvious workaholic, given how often he comes in early and stays late.” 

“I don’t mean what’s in his personnel file, Heather," you say, exasperated. You wanted to know what he was like, his hobbies outside of work, if he was single...

“Then what did you mean?” 

“I don’t know, something that’s not in his personnel file? I know him and Robby are friends.” 

She slumped down deeper in the booth, her legs stretching across until her feet rested on your side of the booth. “And why would that mean I know anything about him? Do I look like Princess and Perlah on the gossip squad to you?” 

You leveled an unamused look at her, one that said, Do you really want me to lay out exactly why I think you would know all about Jack because he and Robby are friends? 

She sighed dramatically, putting her hands up in surrender. “He’s a combat vet. Afghanistan. Three tours as a medic before an IED ended his military career. He wears a prosthetic, though he does a pretty good job of keeping it hidden at the hospital. Lately, him and Robby do this weird post-shift hand-off thing on the roof, which is morbid and more than a little concerning. He’s a widower; further details unclear.”

“Shit.” The liquor buzzing through your system prevented you from saying anything more eloquent. Heather just nodded in agreement. 

That briefly brought the mood down, silence stretching between you in the booth. Your mind wandered to Dr. Abbot. He’d be at the hospital right now, rounding on patients. It was late enough that there might be a lull. You wondered what he was like during those periods of downtime. Was he restless, constantly finding something to keep him busy, or did he relish a chance for a break to get some peace and quiet? Was he more relaxed with his night shift crew? Did he have secret jokes with the nurses? Did he give that small, proud smile when Ellis or Walsh pulled off a successful procedure under his tutelage? 

God, the whiskey was really making you pathetic tonight. 

“So, traumatized, tired, self-loathing older men. That’s your type?” Heather’s voice interrupted your spiraling thoughts. 

You thought about denying it. It’s not like anything would ever happen between you anyway — he was an attending and older and a fucking widower, apparently. It was just an innocent work crush; something to keep your mind occupied during shift lulls and stilted visits with your mom. 

But then she waggled her eyebrows with a smug, shit-eating grin on her face, and you knew lying would be pointless. Instead, you threw a straw wrapper at her and shot her a mock glare. “Shut up, you’re one to talk.” 

She dodged the wrapper easily, sitting up with a burst of energy and demanding you to tell her everything. You were going to need another whiskey diet.

[heavens-crown]

And They Were Neighbors Pt.12

Master List

Warnings: 18+, overbearing family, some angst, whole lotta fluff

Tag List: @starkgaryan @gabsgabsvaz @happyfestpanda-blog @gothgirl13

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A/N: If you want to be added to the tag list either comment down below or DM me!

Robby watched in amusement as Delilah argued with her Uncles about where she would be staying. They had shown up after she got her CT and Xrays back, besides a broken nose she was fine and able to leave. Each of them insisted she should stay with them, not even entertaining the idea of her staying with Robby.  Which he probably should have found insulting. 

“Ok I’m done here. I will be going home with my boyfriend, not either one of you.” Delilah declared, standing from the bed pulling on the clothes Cherry had brought her. All three men glared at their niece as she finished dressing. 

“Your boyfriend?” Tom asks. Robby realizes then that they didn’t even notice that he was in the room. Delilah just stared at her uncles for the briefest moment before turning to Robby. 

“Get me out of here,” she said quietly. Suppressing a laugh he stood up and placed his hand on her back leading her from the room. Cherry was sitting in the hallway and when she saw them leaving she popped out her chair taking up the spot on Delilah’s other side. 

“I was wondering how long it’d take your uncles to realize Robby was in there,” she snickered. Cherry was almost the complete opposite of Delilah. With waist length black hair and blue eyes she was a beautiful woman. She was also about 5’8 and didn’t have any visible tattoos or piercings, which made sense since Delilah had mentioned she was a pediatric ICU nurse. 

“Honestly they’re all children in men's bodies,” Delilah grumbled. “Do you still want to stay in the apartment? If not, we got a spare room in our place.” It made Robby happy that she claimed his apartment as theirs. Cherry just gave her an exasperated look. 

“Girl i love you but I’ll be fine in your old apartment. Besides, your Aunt Sammi texted me to let me know she cleaned up the living room and stuff in case you wanted to go back there tonight.” She said effectively ending the conversation. Robby waved goodbye to his coworkers so they could head home for the night. 

They had been home for maybe thirty minutes when knocks sounded at the door. Cherry opened the door to what Robby assumed was her entire family. As they all fussed over Delilah one of the younger men, who he assumed was her cousin, came over to Robby. 

“Hey man it’s nice to meet you. I’m Robert.” He introduced himself, holding a hand out for Robby to shake. 

“Nice to meet you too, I’m Michael Robinavitch but most people call me Robby.” The two men stood to the side as more of her cousins split off leaving their parents to fuss. 

“Let me introduce you to everyone Robby,” Robert said. He pointed to each person gathered near them. “That’s Nick, he’s the oldest of us cousins. Next to him is my younger brother Sam. The twins are Dean and Ron. and last but not least is Julian.” They all shook his hands offering their own pleasantries. 

“I’d say it's nice to finally meet you but we just found out Lilah had a boyfriend when dad blew a gasket over her not staying with us,” Dean chuckled. Robby smiled ruefully rubbing the back of his neck. 

“We’ve only been dating for about three weeks now,” He admitted, stealing a glance over to Delilah who was arguing with her Aunt Mary. “How's your grandmother doing?” Robby asked. It was Julian who answered. 

“She’s doing great, she hasn’t had another fall since she was last in the hospital.” He answered. Hearing voices raise, Robby looked over and saw that Delilah was getting angrier. Deciding now was a good time to intervene he excused himself from the cousins and walked over to her. 

“I am not a child, Mary,” Delilah said firmly. “I am fully capable of making my own decisions, like where I live or who I decide to fuck.” Robby shook his head at her choice of words but didn’t interrupt her. Mary was a stern looking woman who just shook her head dismissing Delilah. 

“Honestly Delilah, how can we trust your choice in men? Look at what happened with Spencer-” Before Mary could finish her sentence Robby stepped in. 

“Ok that's it. All of you need to go. If you want to see Delilah you can set up a time to see her later.” Robby’s voice was firm. They all just stared at him like he had three heads. 

“Who do you think you are?” Mary snapped. Feeling his temper rise Robby had to watch his tone as he responded. 

“I am her boyfriend. You are a guest in our apartment and if you can’t respect either of us then all of you can leave,” Robby said. “Now.” His tone held no room for argument and slowly her family trickled out of the apartment. Her cousins clapped him on the shoulder quietly telling him good job, and giving Delilah a quick hug before following their parents from the room. When the door finally clicked shut he exhaled roughly and turned to face her. She was looking up at him in awe. 

“No one has ever defended me like that,” She murmured. Raising an eyebrow, Robby pushed her toward the couch kissing her forehead once she had sat down. 

“That's what I'm here for right?” He said. “I need to call Gloria and let her know I need a few days off. Sit here with Cherry and I’ll be right back.” 

Delilah and Cherry watched as he walked into the bedroom, once the door shut behind him with a soft click Cherry turned on her with a raised eyebrow. 

“I’ve never seen someone handle your family like that,” She chuckled. “I can’t wait for your grandma to tear them all a new asshole.” Delilah groaned, leaning her back against the couch.

“I can't believe she said that,” Delilah mumbled. Hearing Cherry snort she picked her head up to shoot a questioning look at her friend. “What?” Cherry shook her head while taking a drink from her water tumbler. 

“I totally can. Mary’s always been a cunt to you. Granted I don’t know why she’s like that but it's clear she’s got some kind of issue regarding you,” Cherry explained. “Didn’t she also not get along with your mom?” 

“Her and my mom hated each other,” Delilah chuckled. “There was one christmas that Mary called me a spoiled little bitch and as a result her and mom got into a fist fight.” Cherry tipped her head back laughing. Delilah felt a mix of sadness and happiness when thinking of her mom. It’d been eleven years since they died but thinking of their deaths even now still made her chest ache. 

“So tell me more about Robby,” Cherry changed the subject. “Does he have any single friends?” 

The two women sat there chatting for a little while longer, eventually rejoined by Robby who fussed over Delilah. Normally she hated being fussed over, it made her feel like a child. With Robby though she liked it, he didn’t infantize her at all. At some point Cherry says her goodbyes and heads over to Delilah's old apartment. They’re curled up together in bed when Delilah decides to break the comfortable silence. 

“Thank you for getting my family out of here,” She says softly. “If you hadn’t they would’ve never left.” Robby presses a soft kiss to her temple, tightening his hold on her. 

“It’s not an issue baby,” he murmurs. “I wasn’t about to stand there and let them get away with talking to you like that.” Delilah hums not answering. They lapse again into the comfortable silence, a random HGTV show playing across the tv screen. Eventually Delilah falls asleep, her breaths evening out. 

Robby can hear his phone ding on the nightstand. Grabbing it he checks to see who it is.

[Jake: So when do i get to meet your new girlfriend?]

[Jack: I’m going to strangle one of these med students sooner or later.]

Snorting quietly Robby shoots off replies to them before turning his phone off. Once his phone is back on the night stand he settles back into bed and eventually drifts off to sleep keeping Delilah close.

[julessworldd]

Hey babes! I finally got an idea that was too good to not waste. @valeskafics gave the inspo for this amazing thing 🫶🏻 love you wifey! Also @foxyanon for the tag

Warnings: cucking, age gap (reader is 19, Robb is 19, Jaime is in his 30s) pussy eating, fingering(F), oral(m and f), squirting, hair pulling, p in v, doggy, mentions of face fucking. Spanking, dubcon at first! , dom!robb 🥵 Mentions of beheading, war/battle, cussing. Theon being early season prev Theon(you’ll see) I probably messed a couple timeline things up. I’m not totally up to speed up to westerlands’ house: I didn’t want a westerling reader so house Swyft

I don’t own characters or rights of Game of Thrones, all credits for G.R.R and HBO. Enjoy besties 🫶🏻🫶🏻

A Lannister bride was today’s Targaryen marriage. The Lannisters were powerful and wealthy people. Even better if it was Lord Tywin’s son, Jaime. Tywin’s power bent the rule of a Kingsguard not taking a wife. Owning lands, fathering children. For that Swyft lord’s daughter Y/n it was a dream come true. She remembers seeing Jaime at a tourney at the rock. He was 17 and she was merely a preteen. But she was dead set on marrying the lion.

Y/n’s wish had came true, she married Jaime Lannister, former Kingsguard, son of the mighty Tywin. She loved life at the rock, gold, nice dresses. Better yet custom dresses that the fabric came from the Narrow Sea. A handsome lord husband, who loved to make her scream until his name was the only thing she knew. Jaime had ruined her for other men, especially since he was well blessed below in the belt. And knew how to pleasure her before his own needs.

After the death of King Robert, the realm had 4 kings who thought they were the true king. One was a Stark, the late Lord Eddard Stark’s son, Robb. He was around Y/n’s age, she was merely 19 after this spring. King Joffrey declared war on all the kings, Robb was moving south. He was apparently near the trident, that was close enough for her husband to pick up and head to battle. After a king screaming match, Y/n was with her husband. She made a promise to stay out of the way and let him ride to battle. Jaime was gone as he went after the Stark army, Y/n stayed like always.

Y/n was reading a book when the tent flap moved and revealed a Stark bannermen. Y/n’s chest tightened as she locked eyes with the bannermen. She tried reaching for the blade Jaime had given her. But she was thrown over the bearded man’s shoulder. Soon enough Y/n was carried to the Stark’s camp, she seen her husband. He was dirty, dirt had hidden his golden hair. He was tied up and had a chain around his neck. Her heart broke for her husband, he was so good at battle how did he get captured? Especially by someone who is three years younger his wife.

“Your Grace, I got Ser Jaime’s wife. What should I do with her?” The bannermen asked as he held her arm

“Leave her in my tent, she’ll forget about her lion after she has me in her cunt” Theon smirked as he checked her out

“Theon, she’s a lady no matter whose house she married in. Set her up a tent near mine” Robb said “Leave her with me”

The bannermen let go of her arm, Jaime was so pissed he didn’t say anything as he was dragged away. He thinking of ways to kill the foul mouthed Greyjoy. How dare he talk to his darling like that.

“What’s a lady doing in her husband’s war camp?” Robb asked

Y/n rolled her eyes “Whats a Stark doing riding south? Don’t you remember what happened to your grandfather, uncle and recently your father. King Joffery surely knows what he’s doing to do to you”

“Mouthy little thing” Robb smirked

“Fuck you” Y/n said, she had to restrain herself from spitting on him.

***************************

It had been a few days since she had seen Jaime, she missed him. Missed his voice, his scent, how his hands felt on her waist. Everytime someone brought her food she begged to see Jaime. They ignored her. Theon asked what’s so good about the lion. She told him his cock and how he stretched her. Theon rolled his eyes and left.

A direwolf walked in her tent, she crawled to the corner of her cot. She had her knees to her chest

“Good wolf. Yeah, you. Go on I don’t have anything” she said trying not to sound scared.

“Greywind” Robb snapped his fingers and made the wolf sit the entrance.

“King in North” Y/n rolled her eyes

“Lady Lannister” Robb smirked

“I want to see my husband, please” Y/n sighed

“I’ll let you see him but on one condition, love” Robb said sitting on the cot by her feet

“What’s that? My family rides for Lannisters not Stark men” Y/n told the auburn haired king

“I want my way with you, but I want him to watch” Robb said rubbing Y/n’s foot

“Him who?” She asked

Rob was surprised she asked who instead of being offended and declaring her cunt for her Jaime only.

“Your husband, of course. I need answers and he hasn’t gave any so far. Seeing you beg for my cock will surely get to him crack” Robb said

“No! I’d rather you kill me than you fuck me” Y/n gasped

“I seen a Swyft flag this morning, a man looked like you. Is that your brother?” Robb asked

“Ryan, he’s my older brother. One of my father’s heir” Y/n said

“If you don’t let me do what I want, I’ll kill him and I’ll have you watch” Robb said

“Fine fine. Have him brought here, I don’t want the other prisoners seeing me like that or your men. Please” Y/n pleaded

“Well we think a lot a like, lady. Theon, bring the kingslayer in” Robb yelled over his shoulder

“Your Grace” Theon said before winking at Y/n before leaving

Y/n seen Jaime and got off the cot. She took in his appearance, he was practically buried in dirt. He had scruff, he looked exhausted. Old worn clothes, his hands chained behind his back. Y/n hugged him, Jaime leaned his head on her shoulder.

“My poor lion” Y/n muttered as she kissed his forehead as she stood on her tip toes

“Just let him do this twisted thing. Once I get out of here, it will be behind us, my sweet girl” Jaime whispered

Y/n looked at him but shook her yes. She led Jaime to a chair by the cot. Robb was still on her cot as he smirked. He patted his thigh, Y/n cringed as she looked over at Jaime. Jaime nodded his head signaling her to do what Robb wanted her to do.

Y/n climbed on Robb’s lap, the wolf wrapped his arms around her as he turned her to face him only. Her back towards Jaime, Robb squeezed her ass. He yanked her down by her hair and kissed her. Y/n had tears down her cheeks as she kissed him back.

Suddenly Robb had her dress off and pushed her on her back. Robb had her naked as he forced his shoulders between her thighs as he dipped his head to her cunt. Y/n whined as she felt Robb’s hot tongue tracing her hole. It had been a week since she had been touched. Jaime fucked her four times or more a week, he fucked her hard the morning he left the Lannister camp. Robb was eating her like a mad man, he rubbed her clit in tight circles with his finger.

She moaned as she grinded her pussy on his face as he licked her clit down to her asshole. Robb moaned, feeling her sweet cunt on him. Her stomach tightened as she came, her thighs wrapped around Robb’s head. Her hands clenched his auburn curls. Jaime was half hard from Y/n’s whines and seeing cum ooze out of her as Robb raised up.

Robb smirked as he turned his head towards Jaime. He gently raised Y/n up to his chest before stripping down. Y/n’s eyes flickered to Jaime, Jaime gave her a reassuring smile. Robb gently grabbed her jaw to kiss her, this time she clutched her fingers in his hair. Robb had snuck his fingers down to her hole, one finger rubbed the outside. He plunged his two fingers into her weeping cunt. Y/n moaned against his lips.

After making her cum again, Robb released his fingers. Licking them off, he flipped Y/n to her stomach. She was facing Jaime as Robb grabbed her hips. Bringing her ass up, he gave her soft cheeks a couple snacks. Y/n wanted to turn around and slap his face. That was one thing Jaime never did even do for teasing. His punishment was usually face fucking her and throat training her despite her whins. Oddly enough Y/n liked it when Robb slapped her ass, she felt herself clenched around nothing.

“I’ll show you why your father should have sent you to Winterfell instead of that ugly rock” Robb teased her clit

Y/n bit her lip to hide how she was enjoying this. Being fucked by another man while her beloved watched. Jaime however was slowly losing his cool. Y/n was his wife, her pussy was his nobody else’s, her body was something for him to cherish and push her boundaries of pleasure.

Robb finally entered Y/n and he was bigger and thicker than Jaime. Y/n moaned it had been a bit too long to not be filled. She missed cockwarming Jaime, but Robb found new areas to touch. Felt like he was going to rip her into two. Robb slammed his hips against her ass repeatedly, her moans were so sweet. Her cunt was tight, warm and kept him snug, Robb loved. He thought it was worth killing Jaime and having Tywin Lannister kill him for it. Your cunt was sweet but maybe not worth his sisters and family being killed.

Y/n moaned as Robb grabbed her by her long hair making her look back at him. Her eyes meeting his Tully blue eyes, a couple whins falling out of her plump lips. Robb stuck two of his fingers in her mouth. The same ones that fucked her cunt in front of her husband moments ago. She could faintly taste herself on his fingers. She swirled her tongue around his dights, Robb smirked.

“Guess Kingslayer did good, training you. The perfect lady wife, gorgeous body with a sweet cunt” Robb rammed into her

She wanted to knock his stupid teeth out for calling Jaime that. She was the only one who knew why Jaime did it. She agreed with him, sometimes betraying someone will help innocent people live another day. But that was soon forgotten as she came around Robb’s cock. Except he didn’t stop his thrusts until she squirted. He let go of her hair and she fell into the cot, she silently moaned as she came down from her hair.

Damn maybe her father should have sent her North cause Jaime never made her do that. Jaime! It hit her, he was there and witnessed the whole thing. She looked up as Jaime was fuming , his fits were clenched as his chest heaved. Robb chuckled as he seen the kingslayer’s reaction

“Theon! Take Ser Jaime back to his cell” Robb called his friend.

Theon walked in, Y/n saw his hard cock in his pants. Theon grabbed Jaime’s arm as he walked out of her tent.

Robb stood up getting dressed

Y/n watched as Theon was across camp

“You never asked him anything”

“I was going to but the gods blessed you with the best cunt the realm has had. Forgive me for being distracted, my lady” Robb smirked as groped her breast.

“He’s never made me do that” Y/n smirked

“That’s a shame, my lady” Robb said

Y/n crawled off the bed as she stopped in front of Robb. Running her hands down his thighs “Can I tell you thank you?”

“At once” Robb snapped his fingers like he did at Greywind

“Not a dog”

“No, but you did let the wolf have his way with you. After all you are a lions wife, maybe” Robb smirked

Y/n looked up at him and cocked her eyebrows. Robb had a point, a very valid one. How could she ever lay with Jaime without feeling guilty about this night. Of course if Robb released Jaime and her.

[iceclew]

Accurate indeed, i'll sign that👌

Kafka's relationship with Reno and Kikoru (and honestly all their fellow recruits in the 3rd Division ) is honestly the most accurate portrayal of Millenial/late Gen Z friendship I've ever seen.🤣

[bamboozledbird]

HOWLING: TST Rewrite // Prev. / Chapter 4

Characters: Thomas, fem!reader, Newt, Aris (bg), Winston (bg) Pairing(s): Thomas x Reader (the slowest of burns as is my brand) Word Count: 3.5k Tags: Mix of book and movie canon, newt!sister!reader Warnings: Canon typical violence and gore, character death, mentions of sui attempt (please take care of yourself and don't read anything that will harm you)

A/N: mix of book canon strikes again. in the book, the flare is airborne, and that is so much scarier to me than a zombie chomp. also this is v sad, but i tried to make it end hopeful for y'all :'( :')

Taglist: @m30wk1ttycat, @mxltifxnd0m

The only sign of life in an endless stretch of sand is the haggard breath rattling through Winston’s cracked lips. He coughs, and your throat almost stings with the sound of his serrated wheezes. The dried blood on Winston's mouth sloughs off in flakes with the new stream trickling from his esophagus, and your stomach roils. This is a man about to die. This is a boy who won't grow up. 

“I’m not going to make it," Winston rasps. His voice is wet with his own blood, "I don’t want it to be like this. It’s better…if it’s quick.”

No one speaks. No one moves. It’s mere seconds, no more than ten, but it feels like eternity. 

Newt wakes from the horror first. He takes the gun from Frypan’s trembling hands and moves towards Winston slowly. 

Thomas steps forward to stop him, “Newt, wait—” 

Newt pushes forward and falls to his knees, gently pressing the gun into Winston’s hand. He whispers a goodbye that’s sticky with the wetness glossed over his eyes. Clogged with a lifetime of conversations that will never happen. 

You’re far enough away from Winston that you can’t see him over the rolling dunes when it happens—but you all hear it. The gunshot tears through the desert, and the echo cleaves you right in two. Severs you through the spine and all the tender nerve endings attached.

Newt’s eyes are always wide, but right now they’re swallowing the desert whole. You pitch into them, and a sharp pain rips through your spinal cord to your optic nerve. 

For a moment, you can’t see anything but the searing white light of pain. What comes after is worse. 

You can’t tell if it’s a memory. It feels like the feverish flashes you thrashed around in the Maze, but everything’s been so muddled since Newt showed up. You can’t tell what’s real anymore. Maybe, you never could. 

This echo is more unsettling than the others. You’re watching a screen on a screen, a memory of a memory. The girl in the center of the snow globe stares at a grainy monitor from her hiding spot in the shadows. 

You almost don’t recognize yourself. 

She looks so much younger than you feel now, maybe twelve. Her face is still soft and round with lingering baby fat, hair tied back with a pretty white ribbon and face clean of dirt and the scar above your brow. 

Who is she? This girl with the perfect hair and innocent eyes. You can’t remember. 

The only world you truly know begins with fourteen. You always thought the before must’ve been better, something to run towards. Now, you aren't so sure. 

She’s so afraid. You want to coax her out from the dark, but somehow you know that she’s safer there, curled up behind a desk, away from the light.

Your little pinched face is awash with a blue glow. You stare at the wall of monitors, clutching a battered book to your chest. Most of the screens are blurry, but it doesn’t matter. You’re only worried about one. 

Look away, you try to tell her, look away before it’s too late.

She can’t hear you, of course. She tears her teeth into her fingernails and stares ahead, barely blinking. Barely breathing. A slip of a girl on the precipice of fading.

Newt looks younger too, even through the fuzzy computer screen. If your math is right, he must be around fourteen. However old he is, he’s far, far too young for large shadows in his eyes. He’s on top of a ledge—the Maze, you realize, horrified, he’s standing on top of the Maze.

You realize what he’s going to do a second before he jumps.

Your scream gives you away. You didn’t realize until now that you could sound like that—that anyone could make such a horrible sound. Like a fox in the night, a lamb before slaughter, a soul that can’t pass on. 

A WCKD employee in a pristinely white lab coat drags you away from the room. It should be soaked in blood, you think. They should be stained with what they’ve done, smeared with their sins for eternity. 

You flail in the man’s arms, kick at his legs, try to plant your feet against the slick floor and go boneless. It doesn’t slow him down in the slightest. You’re so small, after all, and he’s so big. A monster you can’t run from.

Your eyes dart around the room, searching for someone, anyone, to help you. They land on Thomas. He looks as horrified as you do, but he’s more composed. Less hysterical, more stunned. He doesn’t move; maybe, he can’t. 

You hate him anyway. 

The scene fades into mist before you can start screaming at him. 

You don’t remember the walk, but somehow you’ve ended up along the ridge of a slender dune. You’re a step away from falling on either side of your dusty boots.

You stumble over your confusion, and your face scrunches, bracing for the inevitable tumble. At least, the sand will provide some cushioning, you think—but you don’t end up rolling down the dune. Newt grabs your hand and pulls you into his side. He holds you out at arms length and rapidly scans over your frame for any sign of injury. 

“Are you alright?” Newt whispers. His question almost gets lost in the sand, but you hear him. Your senses are entirely attuned to him and the proof that he’s still here. 

You blink away a curtain of tears and stare at Newt, watching his chest rise and fall with his steady breathing. “Am I alright?” You shake your head and let out a shallow, shaky puff of air, “Your friend just—” Your jaw snaps shut with a click. 

You have so much you want to say, so many thoughts stripping the healthy tissue from your brain like a plague of locusts. You don't know what to do with them, how to appease them before they rip you apart one bite at a time. 

You tip forward, bracing your palms on your thighs and breathe through the roiling in your gut. You think you might puke; there’s so much inside you, too much. Some of it has to get out or you might just splinter into the lingering shards of the little girl you used to be.

“I’m okay,” you finally say and scrub at your face with viscous fingers. You swallow the grit of sand on your tongue and shake your head, “Don’t worry about me.”

Newt frowns, but you continue before he can speak. “C’mon,” you mumble, clutching your injured hand to your chest, “we’re falling behind.”

You’re almost grateful for the deadly heat and Thomas’s brutal pace. It exhausts you so thoroughly you almost forget about everything other than the blisters forming on your heels and the sweat dripping into your eyes.

And then you stop.

Night falls, someone starts a fire, and everyone falls to the sand with the weight of their dehydration. With their grief. You stop, and now your brain cannot. 

You clamor to your feet and mumble something about going for a walk to Aris’s slumped figure. 

The Scorch is almost beautiful at night. If you pretend you can’t hear the wind crying in the dark, forget about the decaying remains of a society lost to the Flare and the sand, the moon, glowing overhead in the black sapphire sky, is almost charming. 

You watch it glisten and wrap your arms around your torso, clinging to your ribcage and fraying sanity. The veins in your feet pulse, the ache shoots to your knees, but you need to move. You have to do something to temper the crawling under your skin. 

Thomas’s faint voice upsets the quiet. “You forgot your jacket.” He looks a little shy, holding out the jacket he gave you after the crank stole yours. You wonder how such a sweet face could be responsible for so much pain. 

“Don’t—” you choke for a moment as the nausea returns and hold up your hand, “I can’t—I can’t fucking look at you.”

Thomas’s brow furrows. “What’s wrong?” He takes a step towards you, and his hands twitch by his sides. “What—” he’s paralyzed by the look on your face briefly, stops just out of arm’s reach, and his face looks sick with concern. It makes you sick.

Thomas gnaws on his lip. The sinew in his forearms flexes as he reaches for you. He rests his calloused hand on your shoulder and says,  “Are you okay?”

You wrench your shoulder from his light hold. “Don’t touch me, Thomas.” You don’t think you’ve ever sounded so venomous, so viscous, but you can’t be sure. You don’t remember much—just that Thomas let Newt die. 

“What did I do?” Thomas looks so despondent. You almost feel sorry for him. Almost.

You whip towards Thomas and shove him, slamming your palms against his chest, “You killed him.” Thomas stumbles backwards—not from your little arms and ineffectual pushes, but from the look on your face. The tremor in your voice. “Newt. He…you might as well’ve pushed him off the edge.”

Thomas’s face crumples as he wraps his long fingers around your wrists. You thrash in his grip until he lets go and scream, “You sent him into your maze, and you killed him. One day at a time.” 

It sounds like a gunshot, and by the look on Thomas’s face, you think it must feel like one too.

His skin is pale in the moonlight and so is the look in his eyes. You watch the tendons in his neck strain with his swallow. “You wanted to be put in with him.” 

You can barely hear him; his whisper is so weak against the pull of the breeze, but you do. You both seem to remember at the same time how you insisted that you go next. You had to find Newt and make sure he never slipped away from you again. When you woke up in the wrong Maze, you weren’t even given the dignity of remembering that you should be enraged by it. 

“Couldn’t even do that right,” you sneer through your sniffles, wiping at your eyes with a cruel scrub of your arm.

Thomas is crying. He doesn’t seem to realize it, makes no effort to dry his wet face with his hands—just stares at you with big hopeless eyes. They burn into your chest like hot iron. You close your eyes, and they haunt the back of your lids. 

Thomas shakes his head slightly and takes a small step towards you, “I’m—”

You shove him again with weak arms; they're heavy with the whimpers trembling through your shoulders. Thomas just takes it this time, hands limp by his sides. You hit his shoulders and sob nonsensical accusations until a pair of arms wrap around your waist. 

“Come on.” Newt hauls you away from Thomas, practically carrying you as you squirm in his hold. He lets go of you once you’re far enough away to keep your conversation just between the two of you. A secret. Something sacred. 

You sniffle at the ground and fold your arms, curling in on yourself—hiding from Newt and yourself. You aren’t sure how much Newt heard, but you weren’t exactly quiet.  

Newt looks at you, and you aren’t sure what he’s feeling. His face is soft though; it always is when you’re crying, you realize—remember. Sighing, Newt eventually says, “It wasn’t his fault.”

Your gaze darts to the tips of your shoes, unable to meet Newt’s eyes. You kick at the sand and wipe your cheeks clean, “Yes, it was.”

It sounds petulant, even to you, but you can’t help it. It has to be Thomas’s fault. It just has to. He’s just a person, and he’s here—he's the only one you can punish. There's no one else in arm's reach.

Except for me.

You repress the thought with a harsh swallow, and Newt wraps arm around your shoulders. He’s all skin-and-bones, but he’s a solid warmth against the frigid sting of misery. He pulls you into his chest, squeezes you tightly, and you let yourself fall into a bundle of memories. Good ones this time, a montage of hundreds of hugs in growing arms. 

Newt cups the back of your head and whispers, “It would certainly be easier if it was, wouldn’t it.”

You snuffle into Newt’s shoulder like a baby and hiccup, “They’ve taken so much.”

He drops a kiss on top of the crown of your head and then pulls away. Newt gives you a soft smile and cocks his head to the side, “Then we shouldn’t let them take anymore, should we?”

You remember things in your sleep now. Little things. Never enough for context, but just enough to leave you shaking in the morning. Most of them are bad. A few are good. None of them make any of this easier. 

The dream that woke you was hazy at best. You were little, and so was Newt. You can’t tell exactly how young, but you’re in a room you’ve never seen before. The wallpaper is a sweet, soft mint, and a trail of painted baby goslings follow their mother along the baseboards. It’s the first wall you’ve ever seen with color; the first wall that you aren’t afraid of. 

You're tucked under a quilt, and Newt is reading you something. You can't make out the title, but you see that the book is worn and well-loved—and then the cheery warmth of buttercup yellow blankets ripples into somewhere dark and cold.

You’re moving somehow, but you don’t look out the window—you’re only looking at Newt. 

He’s crouched down in front of you, squeezing your hands, and trying to tell you something. He’s trying to smile too, but you see the fear. The panic. The desperation. The effort makes your heart clench.

Newt's distorted voice slowly sharpens into focus, and you catch the end of his sentence. “...there’s always a chance the sun’s gone out. Remember how long it’d take to reach us?”

You mouth, “Eight seconds,” in time with the little girl’s quivering voice. 

Newt smiles and nods, feathery hair falling over his forehead. “So when you count to eight, you know that we have more time. When you’re scared, just count to eight and remember that we have time, alright? I’ll find you, and we’ll be together again. We’ve got all the time in the world.” 

You wondered what it was like when Thomas told you. You wondered what it was like to have a brother. You think perhaps it’s a little bit like knowing you’re going to be okay.  

You push yourself onto your elbows and sweat trickles down your back. You shiver. The night is insufferably cold, but your shirt is stuck to your back and your sleeping bag is damp. Blearily, you notice that there’s another layer draped on top of you.

You clutch at the denim jacket blanketed over your torso, eyes aching, and look around the sleeping Gladers for a head of tousled brown hair. The flames flicker and sparks fly from the embers every so often, casting billowing shadows over your friends’ sleeping faces. Thomas isn’t among them. 

Your vision slowly adjusts to the dark, and eventually you can make out the shape of Thomas. The shadow of his figure is a ways away and staring into the vast nothingness. You look away from his back and down at the jacket bundled in your lap, chewing on your lip—somehow, you end up standing by him. 

Thomas seems to sense it’s you. You’re close enough to see the moles flecked around his skin. The one on the hinge of his jaw jumps when he finally speaks, “I have to make up for what I did.”

You blink at him and tip your head to the side, listening. 

“You asked me how I keep going, keep caring after…everything.” Thomas cards his fingers through his hair, and it sticks up in odd places when he drops his hand to his side. You want to smooth them back into place—and then you immediately hate yourself for the thought. 

Thomas keeps his eyes on the moon and continues quietly, “I have to get us out—I have to save everyone because I have to make up for everything I did.” 

Your teeth catch on your bottom lip, unsure what to say. You look at him for a moment and then rock onto your tiptoes so that you can drape the jacket over his broad shoulders. It actually fits him, you realize with a small smile. 

Thomas finally looks at you as the faded denim settles over his biceps. His lips part in surprise, and then the corners twitch into a little smile. 

“I’m sorry I keep using my hands instead of my words,” you say quietly. 

Thomas huffs out a breath. It’s almost like a laugh, but the bitterness dampens the sound into something darker. Something that hurts. His jaw is tense as he says, “I’m sorry that I keep doing terrible things.” 

You feel a residual ache, a distant throb of anger. It fades when you look at Thomas. He looks small, all curled in on himself and lost to before. The sky goes dark in his eyes, and you move closer, searching for the stars in a pool of obsidian.

“In the past,” you say softly. Your fingers tremble as you reach for his jacket. The scratched buttons are cold against your skin. You repress a shiver and clutch at the material, pulling the sides tighter against his torso. “A past you can’t even remember,” you add quietly, gesturing for Thomas to slide his arms through the sleeves.

Thomas looks at your hands with big eyes and slips into the jacket. He smiles faintly and bites his lip, watching you button the front closed with clumsy fingers. They’re stiff from the cold and maybe a little fear—touch isn’t a constant in your life, after all. It’s infrequent and usually painful. Tender things don’t survive in your world. Blossoms shrivel. Little birds are eaten. Sweet children harden, or they die slowly. 

But you button the jacket all the way to the top and then slide your hands over his chest, smoothing out the creases in the denim. Gentle. Tender. 

Thomas’s fingers twitch, like he wants to reach for you, but he keeps them by his sides. He stares at you instead. “Well, I almost wish I remembered it all,” his voice is thick around the consonants, shaky through the vowels, “so that I can say I’m sorry for all of it.”

Your cheek rounds with your half-moon smile as you shrug, “How ‘bout I only hate you for all the stupid things you do after tonight.”

Thomas pauses, conflicted, and then he smiles. The crooked line of his mouth is devastatingly endearing. “You sound confident.”

“Oh, I’m very confident.” You nod a few times and hum, “It’s an eventuality, not a hypothetical.”

Thomas bites back a smirk and slides his hands into his pockets, “Noted.” 

You grin at his profile. The humor bleeds from your face, spilling something more earnest. “But I do forgive you,” you tip your chin so that you can meet Thomas’s eyeline, “I do forgive you for the things you don’t remember. The things none of us remember.”

“I,” Thomas sucks on his teeth and shakes his head—as if there’s a lingering taste of something bitter between his molars, like he’s chewed on bitterroot his whole life. He swallows and shakes his head again. “I don’t know if you should. Not after…” he chokes on the rest of his words and rubs a hand over his mouth, trying to wipe away the half-formed thought, the imprint of the words he can’t bring himself to say.

You go cold as the wind shrieks through your blood. You shudder and wrap your arms around yourself, whispering, “He was only fourteen.” Thomas flinches, and you sigh, chewing on your cheek as you look at him—really look at him. 

Thomas’s brow is dipped in a heavy frown that seems to pull at his entire face; it weighs down his eyes until they droop at the corners. He looks older than he should. You forget just how young Thomas is until your gaze traces along his tangled hair and his fawn eyes. He squeezes them shut, terrified of the feeling cutting through his chest. Through denim, and skin, and bone—straight to his trembling heart.  

You lick your lip and say, “And you were only twelve.”

His eyes peel open slowly, and Thomas looks surprised to see your painfully genuine expression. “So were you,” Thomas says, shrugging with his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah,” you say, but you say it to the sand. 

Warm, calloused fingers cup your chin. They gently tip your chin up until Thomas can see your eyes. When he sees how lost they are, he rubs a broad thumb along your jaw. “You’re going to live a long life—you'll get to grow old and have a better life. Newt too. I swear.”

You sniffle. You don’t even realize you’re crying; the tears only fall when they build on your waterline and you blink. “Wrinkly and gray, huh?” you tease with a watery smile. 

Thomas thumbs away the wetness on your cheeks and smiles, small and boyish. “Wrinkly and gray.”

“That sounds nice.” You let out a little sigh, allowing yourself to fall into his impossible promises. Just for a moment. Just while you can feel the heat of his skin. 

“Paradise,” Thomas agrees quietly. “We’ll get there; I promise.”

That’s the thing about bitterroot: blossoms grow from withered roots.

[https-milo]

the baker's daughter - a wild todoroki!

synopsis

Y/n L/n works at a small bakery owned by her parents. One day, a pro hero in training shows up asking for 400 cupcakes

Chapter 2 - a wild todoroki!

prev. / m. list / next

TAG LIST..!

@aejabba

Three days have passed since Todoroki came into the shop. Right now I am currently on an afternoon mission. A mission to get all the ingredients needed for 400 cupcakes by the U.A School Festival. The wind felt therapeutic as it brushed past me, I smiled warmly at the feeling. I walk to the closest store, enter it, and greet the workers with a wave. I grab a basket and walk over to the baking aisle.

"Cocoa power... Vanilla extract... Sugar... Flour... Don't we already have most of this stuff?" I groan in annoyance. I scoop everything I need into my basket. I walk to the noodle aisle and see soba - my favorite. There was only one left, so I quickly grab it. I hear a sigh from beside me and turn around. It was Shoto Todoroki.

"Oh! Hello, Todoroki," I greet. "I hope you weren't trying to get the soba..."

"I was actually, but it's fine. I can just go out to eat somewhere," Todoroki explains.

"I'm sorry, if you want it, you can have it?"

"No, it's fine. Thank you."

"Okayyyy, well I've gotta get to the bakery... It was nice seeing you!" I say. Being close to him made me flustered, and I did not like that. I rush away from Todoroki, barreling towards the cashier.

"L/N, hold on," He said.

I was halfway to the register, almost free from embarrassment. "Uh yes?"

"Would you like to join me in getting soba? I figure you'd prefer it fresh and not prepackaged," Todoroki asked.

"Uhm, me? Like me-me?" I look around, trying to find anyone else he could be talking to.

"Yes, you. You don't have to, of course. Just thought I'd offer."

My eyes widen, "Yeah! Of course, I wanna go with you, but I kinda have to run these to the bakery first and change -" I look down ashamed at my 'no-one-will-see-me' outfit. "I'm sure you don't wanna be seen with someone who looks like this," I vaguely gesture to my outfit.

"I don't care what you're wearing. But if you want to change, I'll wait for you."

"Come with me in line?" I ask. He nods and catches up to me, from there we walk to the register. I place the ingredients on the conveyor belt. The worker scans my items.

"That'll be 10,000 yen," the worker explains. I wince.

"Mom is so going to kill me," I joke. "My budget was 8,000..."

Before I can say anything else, Todoroki takes out his father's credit card and pays for the ingredients. "To-Todoroki!" I stutter. He looks at me confused as he enters the PIN number.

"What? I don't want you getting in trouble."

"It was a joke, Todo. My mom wasn't actually going to kill me," I sigh as the worker bags my items.

"Oh."

"Thank you though, I really appreciate it. But now I feel bad!" I pout.

"Don't feel bad, my father has enough money," Todoroki replies. "Let me help you." I nod and he takes a few bags out of my arms. We walk out of the store.

"What're you doing out here anyway? I thought you'd be in school?" I ask.

"We had the day off today. I thought it would be nice to head into town, and I was right because I ran into you," he said this so easily I thought he was joking.

"W-what?!"

"I enjoy your company," he shrugged.

"We just met... like literally the other day."

"I know, but I was never allowed around other kids when I was younger. I didn't have a single friend before I started attending U.A., so I don't really know what it's like to have one. But after we met, I couldn't stop thinking about you. So I figured I just had to meet you again, and I was right. I think that's what happens when you want someone to be your friend."

I didn't think I could get any more flustered. But, of course, a quirk user just had to prove me wrong. "I enjoy your company too. We should talk more! You know, outside of the cupcakes," I smile at him - trying to ignore the bubbly feeling in my chest.

We walk in silence for the rest of the way to my bakery. It wasn't uncomfortable, I honestly enjoyed it. "I'm home!" I shout as we enter the bakery.

"Welcome back, Y/n," my dad says. He's rubbing his face with a rag as he enters the front of the store. Once his eyes open, they narrow in on Todoroki. I wince and look between the two.

"Dad, this is Todoroki Shoto, he's the customer who requested the large order. Todo, this is my dad," I introduce. That doesn't help the one-sided tension. Todoroki looked confused as he looked between me and my dad. I gestured for him to speak.

"Good afternoon, sir. I came across L/N-chan in the store, I offered to take her out for lunch... if that's ok with you?" Todoroki greeted with a bow. My father grumbled.

"Come with me while Y/N changes, bring the groceries," Dad instructed.

"Is that really necessary?" I groan.

"Yes," Dad firmly said. I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry, L/N. I will be fine," Todoroki replied.

I look between the two and hesitantly make my way upstairs after handing Todoroki the remaining bags. I head to my room and hastily throw on a pair of jeans and a band shirt. It had been 7 minutes since I left the storefront, and if I'm being honest; I was scared of what I was going to walk in on. Pushing my fear aside for the sake of Todoroki, I walk downstairs. Surprisingly, I see my dad engaged in a friendly conversation. I quirk an eyebrow at this. With just as much prejudice quirk havers give us for being quirkless, my dad gives the hatred tenfold toward quirk users. So imagine my shock when I see him shaking Todoroki's hand and thanking him.

"Soooo can I go with him?" I ask.

"Yes. Take care of my daughter, Todoroki," my dad says.

"Of course, L/N-sama," Todoroki replied. He nodded toward me and we made our way out of the bakery. "Did you know my favorite soba place is only a few blocks away?"

"I know of a soba place a few blocks away, but obviously I didn't know it was your favorite," I tease. I swear I see a faint smile on his face. "What did my dad say to you?"

"He started asking about my intentions for hanging out with you. I told him you were good company. Then he started saying how you three were quirkless, but that wouldn't stop him from hurting me if I offended you in any way. I told him that wouldn't be a problem because we were just getting Soba," Todoroki explained. I could tell he was either keeping something from me or some part of what he said was a lie. "I didn't know you were quirkless."

"It's not something we go around telling everyone. There's really no pride in being 'normal'," I shrug. This was the conversation I was dreading.

"Well, I think being quirkless can be just as great as having a quirk," Todoroki calmly said. I look at him ridiculously, not believing what he said.

"How so?" I asked. I figured he was just trying to be nice to me, he didn't actually believe that. I mean, who would?

"Well, if the majority of the world relies on quirks and quirk users, the fact that quirkless people can get through the day without using a power is remarkable. Your parents built that bakery themselves, right? They didn't need quirks to do that and the business they built is incredible. I guess quirkless people just don't get enough credit, I think we forget there was a time we didn't use quirks," Todoroki explained.

"And you mean that? Like you're not just trying to be nice or whatever?"

"Yes, I mean it. Why wouldn't I?"

"Not many people share the same sentiment. I'm used to being thrown into lockers and bullied, not appreciated," I chuckle.

"My friend Midoriya helped me see quirkless people how I currently view them. My father told me they were defenseless and weak. I let this sentiment slip during a hangout once while we were watching a movie, Midoriya paused it and went on a whole rant. I hate my father for the way he made me see people, quirklessness is not a disability as everyone makes it seem."

"Well, tell Midoriya I appreciate him showing you the light," I joke. Todoroki smiled faintly.

"Well, we're here," Todoroki said.

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