#and you get like 20 years of life out of them

[cerisereids]

𝘄𝗲 𝗰𝗮𝗻’𝘁 𝗯𝗲 𝗳𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗻𝗱𝘀 (𝘄𝗮𝗶𝘁 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲)- 𝗮.𝗵. [𝗽𝘁.𝟭]

wc- 3.9k

pairing- aaron hotchner x fem!rossi!reader

summary- down on your luck after a huge betrayal, you return to live at your father's house with your tail between your legs. you're humiliated, thoroughly convinced nothing good could come from returning home. then you meet aaron hotchner.

warnings- sfw, age gap (27-mid 40s), i'm spreading the italian american agenda w rossi!reader, reader lowkey has daddy issues but they're working on it, alcohol use, i picture this as s6 aaron, penelope is the bestiest bestie

a/n- divider from @reveriesources!!! and the literal biggest thank you on planet earth to @basketonthedoorstepofthefbi for being the best and helping me sm w this!!!

your bag hits the ground with a dejected thud. the nippy air of a virginia winter bites at your cheeks and nose as your neck cranes upward, absorbing the mansion standing before you. you haven't been back here since you were 17, and 10 years later, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up just from looking at it. a sneaking feeling creeps up your spine like a spider, you can't help but feel as if the house is staring back at you, mocking you. a sigh escapes your pursed lips, and you wipe your hands over your face before mustering your strength to pick your bag back up.

the rest of your old life has been stuffed into every spare inch of your car, waiting to break free from the confines of the compact vehicle. you're too scared to touch any other bag than the one in your white knuckle grasp. once you unload, unpack, your retreat back to your father's house becomes real. you're not ready to accept that quite yet.

you take a deep breath, slowly inching closer and closer to the porch steps. as you climb them, the light tap of your jimmy choo sneakers against the cobblestone transports you back in time: you're 16, you're sneaking in at 3 am, you don't have a care in the world, you're naïeve.

as you enter the house, you feel like a ghost of your old self, watching the scene from above. you're struck with disbelief as the same mix of vanilla and sandalwood floats through your nostrils. you gasp, glassy eyed as a flood of emotions washes over you like a tsunami. the sight of your father's living room, untouched over the past ten years- save for a new couch and some artwork- it wrings your heart out like an old dish rag. you wipe at the corner of your eye as you pull your phone out, dialing your father's number.

“principessa!” he bellows over the line, your eyes once again filling with tears at the sound of your childhood nickname, “are you settled in?”

“hi dad,” the corner of your mouth turns up at the sound of his voice, guilt preventing a full smile from forming, “yeah,” you rasp out, wiping a single tear from your cheek, “yeah. yep. i just got here, haven't unpacked yet though.”

“don't worry about that, principessa,” the pet name flows off his tongue so easily, it's hard to believe you went years without talking, “we're almost done with this case, when i'm home i'll help you move your things in. you still want your old room?”

“uh-yeah. yeah, that works. thanks papà,” you smile weakly, even though he can't see it.

he breathes out a chuckle of disbelief on the other end of the line, you haven't uttered a lick of italian in years, “alright, principessa. sleep well tonight, we should be home sometime tonight,” his voice is soft, quiet, so you know he's still at the local police station of wherever usa.

you both grow quiet, tension crackling over the line, “ok, i will. try not to work too hard,” you attempt to make a joke, but your breathlessness makes you feel like your mother 20 years prior, receiving one of your father's infamous 'it'll just be a few more days,’ phone call.

“i'll see you when i get back, okay?” is how he responds before you hang up, and you're left in the lonely, familiar silence of the house you grew up in.

as you take in the sights of your childhood, your bag falls from your shoulder once more, this time clattering against the rich mahogany floor. it falls open just slightly when it lands, and from your peripheral, you see it. the very reason you're here in the first place. you lean down to pick it up, a paperback book wobbly in your hands. your book.

you flip through the pages, your years in new york flashing like a montage in your mind. your first day at nyu, parties with fair-weather friends you naïvely trusted, graduating- ready to take on the world with your ideas and stories. you wanted so badly to fill the shadow your father unknowingly cast upon you.

you remember the pressure after graduation, nearly backbreaking. your post-grad years spent schmoozing publishers on rooftops, turning a blind eye to the deceit thickening the air. you remember the years spent hunched over your laptop in coffee shops all over the city, confessions from the deepest corners of your heart spilling onto the page.

most importantly, you remember the sting deep in your chest as you watched the news that morning. your best friend, on national television, with a new york times #1 bestseller. you remember how your face burned in fiery fury as her slender fingers curled around the book like claws. your book. the very one you're holding in your hands.

the sharp ring of the doorbell pierces through your daydream, and you glide over to the front door. you check the peephole before opening, a habit instilled in you by your father, and open it accordingly.

“hello?” you ask the very colorful blonde woman standing before you.

“hi!” she chirps, manicured nails clacking against the stiffness of her bag as hooks it around her shoulder, extending her hand for you to shake, “i'm penelope garcia. i work with your dad!”

you nod, now understandingly, as you shake her hand and smile, “hi penelope, my dad has told me lots about you, it's nice to meet you,” the niceties roll off your tongue smoothly, a rare silver lining of your time in new york, “how can i help you?” you inquire, leaning against the door frame.

“well, they are almost done with the case, they caught the bad guy and now they just have to do some paperwork. that means they don't need me anymore, so your dad asked me to check on you!” she explains, quickly patting the tips of her fingers together in an excited cheer, “please tell me if there's anything you need, if you need help with unloading your car..” she explains, listing off each action item by counting on her fingers.

“oh! well, that's very nice of you, penelope,” you study her for a moment, unsure if you feel comfortable putting this poor woman out like that. she doesn't seem to mind, though, and you're absolutely exhausted. the pile of bags stacked door to door in your car looms over you dauntingly, you suppose it wouldn't hurt to have some help. she seems fun, too, especially for an fbi agent.

finally, you move to the side to let her in, “come on in and set your stuff down, lemme grab my keys and we can start with my car, thanks!” you call your thanks over your shoulder as you pad over to the side table by the door, fishing your keys out of the bowl.

many stuffed suitcases and empty beer bottles later, you and penelope sit giggling on the floor of your childhood bedroom. it turned out that, like her and your dad, you and penelope worked incredibly well together. you were able to work out an incredibly efficient unloading system, one which involved gossiping about anything and everything while you aimlessly carried bags up the spiral staircase.

over the span of three, sweaty hours, you and penelope- who you've now tipsily dubbed 'penny', unpacked your car, as well as your lives. your stories of new york mixed with her anecdotes of the job- many including your father- eventually led you to the fridge in his garage. your eyes lit up when you spotted the 12 pack of peroni nastros. jackpot.

“i had no idea your dad even drank beer,” penelope states, her alcohol induced state causing her to find this face a lot more shocking than it really is, as she intensely studies the fifth bottle of peroni to pass her fingertips.

“he normally doesn't,” you laugh in drunken disbelief, tipping the bottle to your lips, the fizz tickling your throat, “makes sense that the one beer he would have is a peroni,” you roll your eyes gently, not that you're complaining.

“he talks about you a lot,” she remarks sweetly, her eyes glossy from the alcohol but still loving all the same, “he's very proud of you, an-and i don't know what happened to drive you all the way back here from the big apple-” she adjusts so she's kneeling in front of you, a hand placed on each shoulder, piercing you with an intense gaze, “but your father is proud of you. and i mean it!” she sticks a finger up, wide eyed, “jus'becus' allm-mywords are slurring together...i-it doesn't mean i'm a liar!” she hiccups out, and you ponder her words.

“he talks "bout me?” you beam at her, the sweet warmth of validation pooling in your stomach.

“all. the. time! with the cheesiest grin on his face, too. shows the team pictures all the time,” she downs the rest of her beer and goes to grab her sixth, the last bottle of the pack waiting for you, condensation wetting the cardboard box it sits in.

“oh god!” you throw your hands up to cover your face, "that's so embarrassing!" you squeal, pressing your fingertips into your heated cheeks.

“no! no, not at all!” penelope says, brows furrowed with such genuine concern it makes you giggle slightly, “we love seeing it. plus, it helps us all out that you're friggin gorgeous!” she shakes your shoulder as she says it.

“oh my gosh penny, stop!” your cheeks flame even hotter.

“no! it's true! you should hear what derek says about you when rossi isn't around!” she jokes, “spencer, too. he's not nearly as flirtatious as my derek but it is impossible for him to be subtle, especially when it comes to beautiful women,” she rolls her eyes playfully and you cackle.

“oh my god, that's insane,” you gasp out, nearly folded in half on the floor from embarrassment, hands once again masking your face, “boys never liked me growing up. i would sit here, in this very room, crying my eyes out over it. thank god for puberty,” you joke, a gentle smile painting your lips. you shock yourself with the vulnerable anecdote, you're not sure you've thought about that in years. something soft settles in your stomach, coating that old wound, and it's not the beer.

“cheers to that!” penelope raises her beer bottle to you, and you clink yours against it before you both take a swig.

“do you have a picture of the team? it's been a minute since my dad sent me one,” you sit up now, crisscross on the floor, both hands fidgeting with the beer bottle in your lap.

“yeah! one sec...” she trails off as she searches her camera roll, “ah!” she exclaims before turning her phone towards you.

you take a moment to absorb the photo, to take it all in. it seems to be the conterence room, or so you infer by the boxes of files scattered across the expansive table. it's dark out through the windows, and they all look exhausted as they wrap into each other, tired smiles shining bright anyway. you zoom in on your father first, a smile spreading over your lips. he's developed that same lazy eye in his right eye that all the older men have in your expansive italian family. guilt cinches your heart as you recall how much time has passed, how long you've gone without visiting.

“who are the guys that think i'm hot?” you murmur out the side of your mouth, giving her a side eye that makes her cackle.

your eyes widen once she points them out, “damn...” is all you can say, your alcohol induced haze causing you to gawk at the, admittedly, incredibly attractive men on your father's team.

“i know, right?” penelope laughs, “derek is mine though, sorry!” her voice rings out her fake apology and you laugh, recalling a story or two from your dad about them.

“he is all yours, my love,” you smile at her, “who's everybody else? i need to put names to faces here,” you settle in next to her, now both of you leaning against your bed, still in the same spot 10 years later.

“oh! so this is jj,” she drawls, pointing to a blonde woman, “and emily...and that's hotch, he's the big boss man, very serious fellow,” she explains using a faux seriousness and it makes you giggle again,

“and of course you know your dad, and our two lover boys over there,” she points out derek and spencer again with an eye roll. you laugh, but your eyes linger on hotch. he stood tall and strong in the middle of his team, not a strand of dark hair out of place, clad in an extremely well-fitting suit and a tired, but proud, smile. he's gorgeous. you can't help but wonder what he thinks when your dad shows them your photos, now completely uninterested in derek and spencer. “and meeee!” she holds her arms out in grandeur, snapping you out of your daze.

“the best member!” you point at her accusingly as you say it, raising your beer to your lips and finishing it off before grabbing the last bottle.

“i know!” she jokes, and you just can't seem to stop laughing.

“that's a sweet picture, you guys seem like you're close,” you remark gently as you lay back on the ground again, legs curling in penelope's lap. the fact that your dad has been well taken care of all this time sways your guilt just slightly.

"we are, your dad is a great agent, 'n an incredibly valued member of our team," she blinks at you, "are you close?" she asks gently, testing the waters.

"um, more so now than ever, i guess," you laugh, "he divorced my mom when i was really young, so i didn't hear from him much growing up," penelope's mouth crooks to the side as you speak,

"he reached out when i was in high school, though, and he had this room remodeled so i could stay here. i hated being here, though. i was so mad at him," you roll your eyes, "i was the poorest little rich girl there ever was," you inwardly cringe at your past petulance as you take another sip of your beer. that is a scar alcohol is going to heal, just for tonight.

"hey, you were young! you were angry!" she shouts, already advocating on your behalf even though you've only known her about three hours,

"i'm sure he understood, don't be so hard on yourself, sunshine" she nudged your leg with her hand and you smile.

"i think you might be right, penny," you sit up again, taking another sip of beer "i took off for new york the second i graduated, i wasn't even 18 yet," you shake your head, your gaze planted on your legs laid flat in front of you.

"did you go to school out there?" she inquires.

"mmhm," you hum, emptying the last drop of beer, "studied english and creative writing at nyu, didn't really call him that much my first few years out there," you admit regrettably, "we talked more the older i got, though. i started to miss him, so i came here," it wasn't a lie, it just wasn't necessarily the entire truth. you knew penelope could tell, too, you know better than to lie to an agent, you lived at your dad's in high school for god's sake.

"well, at the end of the day, love saves us all, honestly," she drawls out, and you remember how drunk the two of you are. it snaps you out of your daddy-issues-somberness, and you double over in laughter.

"maybe we should try and sober up," you gasp out, the two of you bursting into another round of giggles, "come on," you whisper, like you're two teenagers trying not to get caught at a sleepover,

"let's get some toast and some water and some motrin," you hiss, wide eyed, like you just had the best idea on the planet.

you scramble over one another on your way to the steps, and penelope is so concerned about the frequency of your giggles.

"what's so funny?!" penelope asks as you two descend the stairs. it didn't take long on your journey for you to start laughing again, at nothing in particular, just your sheer, utter, drunkenness.

"i don't know!" you whisper back over your shoulder. taking your gaze off the steps proves to be a mistake as you miss one of them, nearly plummeting down the wooden staircase. penelope slings her forearms underneath yours, saving you from certain spiral-shaped doom.

"oh my god!" you squeal and you both burst into another fit of giggles. you regain your balance before finally getting down into the kitchen.

popping two slices of bread in your dad's way-too intricate toaster, you move about the expansive kitchen to the fridge, grabbing butter and then some knives to spread it with. once you close the refrigerator, you're greeted by two men in the dimly lit kitchen, go-bags hanging from their shoulders.

"oh my god!" you scream at the top of your lungs, the items in your hands immediately slip from your grasp, clattering to the floor.

"what!!!" penelope comes running in from the living room, draped in your father's microfiber linen blanket. she turns a brighter light on to reveal your father standing with another man in the kitchen, quirked eyebrows mirroring each other almost exactly.

“oh, my god, you guys!” she exclaims, hand over her heart as you drop to pick up what you've spilled, “you cannot just do that!” she scolds them, before taking the bags from each man as she inquires your father about the end of the case.

your eyes linger on the taller man standing next to your father as he chats to penelope. it's hotch. the man in the photo. the man in the photo. you can tell it was a long case, with the way his tie and suit jacket are folded neatly over his forearm, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. his brown hair is slightly messy up top, like he'd been running his fingers through it. he's even more beautiful in person. your heart picks up its pace, giddiness swarming throughout your stomach like butterflies. then, the reality of the situation hits you like a freight train. why is he here? now? while you're this drunk and sweaty? a loose cardigan is draped over an old tank top, sweatpants hanging low on your hips.

you turn towards the kitchen counter, gaze turned downward, though you could feel his eyes burning a hole through the side of your face. you make a weak attempt to spruce yourself up, dusting away the flyaways falling from your bun and quickly applying some tinted lip balm. you sneak a peek at him, drawing your gaze to the side just slightly, before looking back up fully.

he's already looking at you when you turn to face him, his deep, brown eyes sparkling in the low light of the kitchen. the contact makes your heart drop into your stomach, twisting and turning your insides like you've been on a rollercoaster. his playful gaze, the small uptick of his lip in the most tantalizing smirk, they tell you he knows exactly what you were doing. fucking profilers.

“principessa!” your father gushes once penelope releases him from her metaphorical clutches. you reluctantly rip your eyes away from the man across from you and flash your father a demure smile.

he strides across the kitchen, past hotch, with his arms outstretched. you mirror him meekly, having lost every last bit of confidence in front of this newfound audience.

“hello, papà,” you murmur quietly into his shoulder, relaxing just slightly in his hold. it's been a long time since you'd hugged your father, you didn't realize how much you'd missed it.

“my, my...” he trails off, holding your face in his hands, “is it possible you've gotten more beautiful since i last saw you?” he punctuates his question with a loud kiss on the forehead, followed by one on each cheek. it was how he greeted you every time he saw you, something his nonna passed to his mamma, who then passed it to him, which he has now passed to you.

“i get it from my mamma!” you chirp, walking back over to the golden brown bread popped up in the toaster.

“you're very funny,” he waves a finger at you while you all let out small bouts of laughter, “did you girls enjoy yourselves tonight?” he smirks at you and penelope, still quite intoxicated.

“you have amazing beer,” you point the butter knife in your father's direction as you say it, and you receive yet another round of laughs. your eyes snap toward the quiet, high pitched chuckle coming from your right. the smile immediately falls from your face when you lock eyes with him, not of disdain, but of the sheer, gut wrenching pull you feel towards him. it almost aches.

“oh! let me not forget...this is aaron hotchner, he's our unit chief,” your father claps the back of the tall brunette beside him, who then reaches his hand out for you to shake.

“hi,” he says gently, with a smile to match, “you can call me aaron,” he murmurs, his voice low and smooth, but direct all the same. you catch the way his obscenely large hand dwarfs yours, and you have to stop yourself from gulping akin to a cartoon character. if he'd held onto you any longer, hearts probably would've formed in your eyes.

“hi, aaron, it's nice to meet you,” you coo, your sweet, gentle gaze poring into his wide, dark eyes.

“you as well,” a ghost of a smile paints his lips as he sticks his hands in his pockets, “we've heard so much about you at the unit, it's nice to finally meet you,” there's a glint in his eye as he scans over your face, letting his gaze drop ever so slightly to your neck. he corrects himself soon after, his eyes snapping back to yours before they could go any lower.

“likewise,” you smirk, that one look igniting a flame low in your belly. you silently revel in the tiniest hint of red grazing his neck, just for a moment, but that moment is cut short before you can tease him any further.

“so, what brings you here so late at night, sir?” penelope reenters the room with your father in tow, and you hadn't even noticed they left the room.

“oh! i-um i need to borrow a globe from david,” penelope and your father both raise a brow to the way he fumbles over his words, and you hide a shit eating grin by taking a bite of your toast.

“a globe?” you inquire, passing penelope's toast to her, which invokes a happy squeal from the blonde.

“for my son,” he quickly explains, gaze falling to the floor as he backs away just slightly, “he needs it for a school project. shall we?” he hastily exits the room, your father following suspiciously in tow.

“what was that?” penelope whispers through bread crumbs, her eyes wide.

“i have no idea!” you hiss back, “but that was something, right?”

she nods, eyes wide, “i don't think i've ever heard the word 'um' leave his lips before tonight!”

“oh my god,” you groan, plopping your head in your hands.

[peaceloveandf1]

What I Love About The South!- LN4

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pairing: lando norris x reader

rating: e for everyone!

warnings: none!

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"Hey...we've landed", a soft voice flooded my ears as I was softly shaken awake.

"have we?", I questioned my boyfriend. It had been a 10 hour flight from London to Austin, Texas.

"yeah babe, c'mon let's go see everyone" Lando said, dramatically pulling me from my seat.

I groaned as I stretched my arms and legs before grabbing my bags and making my way off the plane after Oscar and his girlfriend Lily. As we loaded our bags into the car waiting for us, I was filled with so much excitement; I am home. To get to show my boyfriend and my friends abroad my home is so exciting. Of course they've been to Texas before, but this will be the first time they come to my hometown and my family's farm.

"So how long of a drive is it?" Oscar asked me from the back seat.

"mmh it's about a 2 hour drive from where we're staying for the race" I explained to them as I slipped behind the wheel and set off. We had landed in Texas almost a week early in order for all of us to be able to explore and hang out on the farm until the grand prix. My parent's farm sits on over 20 acres in the small college/farm town of Waco, Texas. This is the first time I'll be home in a year, after I graduated from Baylor University and left my hometown for London and a job in finance. I can't believe what my life has become and I can't believe my boyfriend is about to meet my parents for the first time.

I squeezed Lando's hand in excitement as we arrived at the gate to my parent's ranch.

"I'm really excited babe." He said, running his thumb over my knuckles. After the almost mile drive up to the house, I parked the car to greet my family.

The four of us grabbed our bags and as soon as my parents laid eyes on Lando I could tell they loved him.... and after a 2 hour conversation with them, I can confirm: they totally love him.

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"Baby,I think I could stay here forever", Lando whispers in my ear as I stare at the fire.

"You're lucky they haven't put you to work yet" I giggle, leaning my head on his shoulder.

"I think if I got to stay here with you forever, then I'd do as much work as they want", he said, kissing my forehead.

"I'm happy you like it here. I was worried it might be a bit slow paced for you" I say softly.

"I like to slow it down sometimes. Especially when I'm with a cute girl who wears boots and talks funny", he said, poking me in my side elicting a laugh from me.

"I talk funny? Speak for yourself", I retort.

"I'm only playing, plus the farm gives me another reason to love the south", he said somehow pulling me closer in the act.

"oh yeah? what are the other reasons?", I turn looking at him, surprised at what he was leaning towards, seeing as we haven't said the "L word".

"mmhm I don't know if you've met her but there's this pretty cool girl from Texas. She's got this accent that drives me mad, she's real smart, and she's stunning inside and out", he whispers to me again.

"She sounds really great", I whisper back; "reminds me of this guy I met in London. He's a racing driver, he's real handsome, and he's just so sweet".

He pulls me closer as I finish my sentence and places a kiss on my forehead. As his lips leave my forehead, he tilts my chin up so that my lips can meet his. The kiss is familiar and soft, like always, so sweet. Pulling away, Lando rests his forehead against mine.

"I love you", he breathes out.

"I love you too"

[rbbrbikerthorp]

Biker Upgraded To Cyborg

For as long as anyone could remember, Jake and Eddie had not only been best mates, but they’d been crazy about motorbikes. Both their dads were bikers so it was no surprise that as kids they were introduced to bikes in real life and got to watch MotoGP, WSB and BSB either in real life or on TV with their enthusiast dads.

They were riding off-road in their early teens. They got their first mopeds at 16, upgrading to 125cc bikes a few months after their respective seventeenth birthdays. Now in their early 20s they have held full licences for nearly three years. Jake rides a black Honda CBR600RR, bought second hand through the weekly motorcycling title, MCN. Eddie rides a used Red Yamaha R6 that he bought a couple of months earlier from the main dealer in the city where they live. Springtime and the light evenings meant they would be out as much as possible riding 'the highways and byways', and this day was no exception, but it would be a day that changed their lives forever. 

Jake and Eddie had spent most of Sunday riding and were at the edge of the city when Jake’s bike had started spewing smoke out of the engine before rolling to a stop alongside a large industrial estate. Jake jumped off his bike, but with no tools to hand he had no option but to seek help. He pushed his bike into the entrance to one of the large modern warehouses that populated the industrial estate. Jake kicked the side stand into place and sighed heavily. Eddie pulled in alongside Jake, kicked down the stand on his before turning off the ignition.

Although they were back in the city, they were still about ten miles from home. Jake reached into his leathers for his phone only then realising that they were in an area without mobile phone coverage. Jake and Eddie looked around for a payphone to call the breakdown service - but in this era of mobile technology, BT had removed most of the phone boxes - so there wasn't one within sight. Realising they needed to get help they looked around for signs of life. In front of them was a sprawling grey structure resembling more of a fortress than a warehouse. Its metallic surfaces gleamed under the late afternoon sun, making it look otherworldly. Figuring it might be their best chance at getting help—or at least finding a phone—they started walking towards the massive building.

The front gate was oddly open, inviting yet silent. Jake and Eddie didn't think it weird for a security guard building to be unoccupied with the gates open. More concerned about getting help they walked towards the main building entrance. Jake pressed on the intercom button and waited for a response. After a minute he pushed the button again, but this time there was a buzz. Jake looked at Eddie and shrugged his shoulders, pushing on the door, it opened. They walked inside.

Expecting to see a reception area the two friends were surprised to enter the building at what appeared to be the beginning of a long dimly lit corridor. Jake and Eddie looked at one another, Jake spoke first, “Why don’t you wait here, while I see if I can find anyone to speak to”.

Eddie nodded.

Both looked at one another, for a moment unsure of what to do. Then Jake smiled, turned and started walking along the seemingly endless corridor, his boots echoing on the cold, concrete floor. The air was chillingly sterile, as he walked he would pass the occasional door and window revealing glimpses of high-tech interiors.

"Hello?" he called out, his voice disappearing into the ether without an answer. The lack of response was unnerving, but as he walked on he could hear noise coming from much further along the corridor. Jake kept walking, driven by his need to get to a phone and call the breakdown service to sort out his bike.

Eventually, the corridor turned to the right, after another dozen or so yards it opened up into a colossal space. What Jake witnessed was like a scene reminiscent of a sci-fi horror film.

The room was stark yet brightly lit. On one side it was filled with row upon row of raised surgical beds. Yet these weren't like the ones you’d see in a hospital; they were repurposed contraptions where human flesh was being melded with alien, synthetic and electronic components. Shocked by what he was witnessing, he turned his head, but there was no escape from the nightmare he found himself in.

The other side of the room was populated with dozens of cylindrical tubes. Jake’s eyes widened as he took in the sight before him—humans, all young males, lined up and undergoing transformations into, well all he could think of was 'something else'. Whichever way he turned he could see men his age were being outfitted with mechanical limbs, others had technology intricately woven onto weird shiny black body suits, still others were in varying stages of being processed into full cyborgs.

The horror gripped him; his instinct was to flee back to Eddie and both to get the hell out of there. But before he could move, cold metal hands grasped his shoulders with an iron grip. His heart sank as he was spun around to face what had caught him—a cyborg, its body a haunting hybrid of human and machine, expressionless yet totally menacing.

“Welcome," its voice an unsettling blend of tones, both mechanical whilst still eerily human. "Your arrival is opportune. Your integration process will commence shortly."

Panic surged through Jake as he struggled, but the cyborg's grip was unyielding. Despite putting up strong resistance, he was dragged towards one of the ominous stations. Glancing around, he noticed the other captives were not fighting; their eyes showed a haunting resignation, some flickering with the vague light of fear.

As he was forced onto what appeared to be a surgical table, Jake looked around frantically, hoping for any chance of escape. His heart raced as mechanical arms equipped with various tools whirred to life around him. 

In a split second metallic straps shot out from the surgical table and tightened around his limbs and across his torso, a sense of utter helplessness began to wash over him. His heart pounded hard against his chest. He desperately sought that extra bit of human strength that would allow him to escape. He struggled and struggled against the restraints, but the metal straps simply wouldn’t budge.

Stage one of his transformation was about to begin. From above a helmet descended slowly from the ceiling, its approach marked by an audible, mechanical whirring. Jake squinted upwards, his breath coming in sharp gasps. He was used to his bike helmet, but this was unworldly.

Two drones approached the surgical table Jake was strapped to and grabbed the helmet, which had opened up. One lifted his head slightly and the other slid the back of the helmet under the back of his head. As the helmet closed over his head, a claustrophobic fear gripped him. The world outside the helmet faded, leaving him in a confined sphere of existence. Almost immediately, an overwhelming barrage of white noise bombarded his ears, punctuated by low, droning hums that seemed to resonate through his bones.

Then, the visuals began on the inside of the visor. Spirals of colour appeared in front of his eyes, intertwining and unraveling in hypnotic patterns. Reds, blues, yellows and greens blended into a kaleidoscope that threatened to absorb his mind. Jake tried to close his eyes, but the images were inescapable, imprinted on the insides of his eyelids, searing themselves into his brain and more nefariously his subconsciousness. Almost as if recognising Jake was finally submitting the noise and visuals seemed to become amplified.

As the sensory overload continued, Jake felt a strange detachment creeping through him—a numbness that suggested the audio and visuals were beginning to take effect. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice screamed in terror and defiance, urging him to resist, urging him to hold on to his identity.

With a surge of willpower, Jake focused on that voice, blocking out the chaos threatening to engulf him. He concentrated on memories of standing in the stands watching the best riders in the world, the challenging rides with Eddie, the feel of his motorcycle, the wind against his leathers. He thought about his best mate Eddie and the fun they’d had. He thought about his family and his other friends. These human experiences, these emotional connections to his past life, became a lifeline to cling onto.

As Jake fought against the sensory bombardment, the helmet detected his resistance, It recalibrated its internal mechanisms in response to his defiance. Suddenly, the white noise in his ears shifted, morphing into a series of low, almost inaudible subliminal messages. Each word—"relax", "comply", "obey", "drone", "conform", "follow", "respect" could be heard—the words flashed across his vision, barely there long enough for conscious recognition, but deeply penetrating his subconscious.

The colours that swirled before his eyes intensified, becoming more vibrant and pulsating rhythmically, as if to synchronise with his own heartbeat. It was a sensory assault designed to break down the walls of the individual, to reshape his mind into something more compliant and obedient. Jake’s initial surge of resistance began to wane as mental exhaustion set in, the messages infiltrated deeper into his psyche, their insistence relentless and overpowering.

His eyes, once sharp with determination and fear, started to lose focus, the vibrant spirals turning into a soothing blur. The resistance in his muscles softened as his body began to accept the inevitability of his situation. His thoughts, those last bastions of his free will, were slowly suffocated under the warm, smothering blanket of compliance and security that the helmet now forced upon him.

With an audible click and a beep, the helmet sealed its final adjustment, signalling the completion of its preparatory phase. At this cue, the two drones, their movements precise and devoid of any hesitation, glided smoothly towards the table where Jake lay subdued. Their appendages were equipped with various tools and devices necessary for the transformation process.

The drones worked efficiently, attaching additional apparatus to Jake’s limbs and interfacing seamlessly with the helmet. As they initiated the physical transformation, Jake’s body was being prepared to receive bio-mechanical enhancements that would connect him irrevocably to The Hive which he learned was housed within the humongous building.

Somewhere in the dwindling recesses of his mind, the essence of who Jake once was—a biker with a love for the open road—flickered weakly. This essence watched as his limbs and muscle fibres were methodically integrated with synthetics and his nervous system was integrated with advanced circuitry. The process was both horrifying and fascinating to watch.

As the transformation progressed, Jake’s human senses were gradually overridden by electronic inputs. His vision, once clouded by the colourful spirals, now interfaced directly with data streams providing real-time analytics about his environment. His hearing was no longer filled with subliminal messages but was tuned to various frequencies beyond the range of human hearing.

By the time the transformation was complete, Jake, as he had been, no longer existed. In his place stood a new Jake, a cyborg, what was exclusively biological had been augmented with technology. The drones, recognising another successful integration, had begun to step back.

The new Jake climbed down from the surgical table to be guided by the two drones. He moved with a robotic precision that was both chilling and enthralling to witness. He was led to what looked like a modified dentist's chair, but larger and imposing. The chair had been upgraded and was fitted with numerous ports and circuitry interfaces. Without hesitation, he sat down, his actions appearing devoid of the personality that had once defined him.

He leaned back so that his head touched the headrest. The chair immediately sprang to life, adjusting to accommodate his new form. A second later the old Jake would have felt a light sensation on both sides of his head as what can only be described of as two metallic ear pieces, out of which came sets of wires slid into his ears and began to work. 

Somewhere, an echo of the old Jake could sense what was happening, words echoed around the room and in his head. Screens nearby flashed “accessing biological memories…beginning total erasure”. 

“NNNOOOOOOOO”, But even as the word was said, Jake’s relatively short lifetime of memories were disappearing, flashing before his eyes for a split second before evaporating into nothing - gone forever. 

Monitors next to the chair flashed “Memory Wipe successful,” again, the words echoed around the room. 

Any human observer in the room looking at new Jake’s face would describe it as passive, distant, dull, emotionless. Empty. His eyes were missing their human sparkle. 

Then the drone formerly known as Jake again felt another funny feeling in his ears, as if a static charge was coming out of the wire. Suddenly the screen flashed “Beginning Program Upload”… While that happened, nearby monitors flashed, “Emotional Centres being accessed”. 

“Installing Human Emotion Suppression Software”

“… 10%… 20%… 30%… 40%… 50%… 60%… 70%… 80%… 90%…  ”

“Human Emotions Suppression Software installed. Fully functional.”

The monitors flickered for a moment and then more text appeared, “Beginning Cyborg Program Upload”. The upload began. The Hive, a vast network of interconnected AI and data banks, started feeding a stream after stream of programming directly into Jake's brain. These were not merely instructions; they were directives that informed behaviour, dictated functions, and defined purpose.

For hours, data was input into him, a relentless torrent of information reshaping and repurposing him; any lingering traces of his previous humanity now completely overwritten. His eyes, once vibrant with youthful emotion, now displayed a steady, unblinking focus as the programming was embedded, ensuring his obedience and efficiency.

At the appropriate time the interface with the new Jake confirmed the programming had been successful. “Operating at 100%,” it said in an emotionless, synthetic voice. “Organic memories have been wiped. Emotional Suppression Software is fully functional. The new data and objectives have been successfully uploaded with zero errors”.

The chair returned to an upright position, and the new Jake stood once more. His movements were smooth, almost graceful, a stark contrast to the somewhat ‘cavalier’ sports biker he once was. He was a product of advanced technology, a being created to serve a purpose far beyond his previous human desires.

Approaching him now were two more drones, carrying items that symbolised his final transformation. They presented him with a set of Dainese bike leathers, not ordinary leathers but augmented to interface seamlessly with his cybernetic body. The leathers were equipped with sensors and conductive circuitry that could communicate directly with his system, enhancing his interaction with the Hive.

Then they presented him with a pair of white boots, larger to accommodate the modifications of his feet, designed not only for protection but also to enhance his connection to the ground and his bike. Gloves that reached up to his arms were fitted next, embedded with micro-circuitry to increase his grip and control.

Finally, they brought over a new crash helmet unlike any other. This helmet was his direct link to the Hive mind. It was designed to keep him constantly connected to the Hive's data stream.

As the helmet settled over his head, a subtle hum filled the air, signalling the activation of all its systems. The new Jake stood there, a figure of both awe and dread, transformed entirely from the young man who had once freely roamed the roads on his motorcycle.

Now equipped, Jake was led to a new motorcycle, one that matched his new form. To the casual observer it looked like a traditional bike that had been upgraded; integrated with technology that responded fluidly to his enhanced senses and capabilities. As he mounted the bike, the connection between man and machine was seamless, a perfect union crafted by the Hive’s sophisticated engineering.

The new Jake rode the highway on his futuristic bike, a sleek and menacing marvel of technology that effortlessly caught the eye of any enthusiast. Its design was unlike anything on the roads—sharp angles, glowing panels, and a subtle hum that hinted at its advanced capabilities. It was designed not just for speed and efficiency, but as a lure to attract exactly the kind of individuals the Hive sought to convert.

As he travelled along a popular bikers’ route known for its scenic views and biker cafes, he spotted his next targets. Two young bikers, probably in their twenties, had pulled over in a lay-by, their bikes parked as they enjoyed a brief pause in their riding, catching up on conversation and checking their mobile phones. The new Jake slowed down, looking at the two bikers oblivious to Jake’s presence, his connection to the Hive confirmed they would be perfect candidates for upgrade.

Pulling over smoothly, Jake dismounted his bike. His helmet's visor slid up as he approached them, revealing a face that was human enough to be relatable but enhanced subtly with metallic hints that suggested something more beneath the surface. 

"Hey," Jake called out, his voice modulated to be friendly and inviting. “Hey there. Not seen you riding ‘round here before.”

The two young bikers, intrigued by the stranger and his extraordinary bike, smiled and walked over. “What is that you’re riding? It looks like it’s straight out of a sci-fi movie. What is that?" one of them asked, his curiosity piqued.

The new Jake chuckled, a sound perfectly calibrated to put others at ease. He needed to win their trust so began to make conversation with them. "It’s a custom build from a place not too far from here. They’re experimenting with some next-gen and EV tech. You guys interested in seeing where something like this comes from?"

The offer was tempting. The allure of advanced technology and the chance to see more bikes like Jake’s was too good to pass up for any avid biker. The young men exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between them before they nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, definitely,” the other replied. “We’ll follow you!"

Jake smiled and nodded, turning back to his bike. As they put their helmets on and started their engines, a part of Jake’s programming confirmed the successful engagement of two targets. He led the way, riding at a pace that was thrilling yet careful to keep his new followers comfortably in tow.

The journey took them away from the familiar routes into less traveled roads, the scenery shifting subtly as they moved closer to facility where he had been transformed. The two bikers were unaware of the true nature of their destination, caught up in the thrill of the ride and the excitement of seeing advanced motorcycle tech.

After some time, they arrived at the vast building that looked more like a huge distribution centre than a motorcycle manufacturing factory. The gates opened automatically as Jake approached, a silent signal of his authority and belonging.

Jake signalled for the other two bikers to do follow him down a roadway between two buildings. Jake brought his bike to a stop, opened his visor and announced, ”we are here.” The other two brought their bikes to a stop, dismounted and removed their helmets.

Jake walked forwards into the huge building just ahead of them; the two other bikers looked at one another, shrugged their shoulders and followed. They would ingress through a different route compared to the one Eddie and Jake entered.

The space inside they walked into was clean and modern, filled with prototypes and machines that made the two young bikers' eyes widen in awe.

"This is incredible!" one of the exclaimed, walking closer to inspect a particularly sleek model that caught his eye. "How do you get in on this?"

Jake's response was calculated, his tone still friendly but now carrying an undercurrent of persuasion. "Well, there's actually a selection process. Part of why I brought you here. If you're interested, there’s a quick tour and some tests to see if you're compatible with the tech."

Excited and completely unaware of the implications, the two young men agreed eagerly, following Jake deeper into the facility. As they walked, the doors behind them closed silently, the outside world receding as they moved further into the realm of the Hive.

Little did they know, their fascination with bikes and the temptation of combining their love of biking and dreams of futuristic bikes had led them into a trap. This walk would be their last as mere humans, as they stepped unknowingly into the next phase of their lives dictated by The Hive's needs.

=========

Oh, are you wondering what happened to Eddie? As you might have expected The Hive detected his presence and determined a new purpose for him, but that’s another story.

[rubyclover]

I said I can’t write but if felt nice getting that other idea out of my head. So I wrote this and will post. Technically I started trying to write this like a month ago… Please ignore the constant switching between past and present tense. It’s something I never seem to notice until someone else points out where it is.

Prompt: Professionals hate him but he was right! [Adam] Heaven and Hell come to the realization that The First Man played a larger part in the three realms’ political/social ecosystem than they thought. His absence leaves a vacuum that Lute is unable to fill but she may not need to because Hell is solving the problem themselves… The Morningstar Family can’t run from this.

No ABetaO we expire like Adam~

Imagine that Adam dies, the hotel has never looked better, the residents have healed up and Charlie gets another TV appearance. Lucifer is even more depressed than before but hides it. Adam is gone She’s going to reveal Sir Pentious’ redemption with evidence that is NOT childishly scribbled on key cards. Instead of the interview taking place in the 666News studio it’s held outside the hotel. She will take questions, live, right after the interview. Katie Killjoy wants to give the public a chance to cause chaos for ratings, so she puts Charlie in a vulnerable position.

Things go great… for the first 20 minutes. The interview isn’t even half way done when someone from the crowd interjects after Charlie says ‘The Sinners have a better life now that the Exterminations are permanently canceled.’

That person’s voice is calm but still pissed as Hell. They fire back that no, Sinners don’t have an easier life now that the Exterminations are over. It’s worse! Charlie and the crowd perk up.

The voice moves to the front. They’re short with plain street clothes, hood up. It’s obvious they’re poor and at the bottom of Hell’s pecking order. A couple of Imps are with them equally disheveled and tired looking. The man goes on to point out some rather hard truths.

Thanks to the last Extermination, angelic steel has become a hot commodity. While uncommon right now, there’s a pipeline to obtain an angelic weapon. All you need is enough money. Carmilla Carmine doesn’t care about how her product is used after purchase.

‘Permanent Murder’ is a new trend on HellTube netting ridiculous profits. The main targets are vulnerable Sinners, usually the scared and alone new arrivals, Imps and Hellhounds. All killed by beautifully glowing angelic weapons.

Overlords are more formidable with these weapons so the chance of contractees escaping, like Angeldust, has become damn near impossible even if they destroyed their contract. Some desperate souls were happy with their messed up immortality. It gave them some hope, ‘at least I have a chance to turn things around eventually,’ but that pathetic security is gone.

The Exterminations kept said Overlords in check to a degree. They were more inclined to take care of their underlings because that guaranteed their safety. Now? Just get an angelic gun for all your troubles. Valentino is having a fucking field day.

The ‘permadeath’ toll for one year will be ten times the amount of one Extermination Day considering how much Hell’s citizens like to kill Sinners…

Not to mention, whole industries in Hell, from top to bottom, are starting to crash. Their purpose or sales revolved around the Exterminations. Some workers cannot afford to lose their job and have to sell their soul against their will.

Etcetcetc

As the man speaks Charlie is surprised to see heads nodding in agreement! Someone comments that they hadn’t seen their Sinner friend in a few days and tries not to panic while another face falls in the crowd and wrings their hands together. An Imp with curved horns standing beside a young Hellhound sweats profusely and starts to leave. Tension moves through the public. Not just the ones in front of the stage but also those watching TV.

Despite her best efforts Charlie cannot lift the crowd’s mood. She realizes prematurely revealing Sir Pentious’ redemption is the only way to salvage this growing disaster. Unfortunately the man’s timing is perfect because the second she opens her mouth he turns his anger on the Morningstars.

He calls out how much her family misrepresents themselves as rulers. They don’t do anything for Hell anymore. They spend most of their time fucking around while the Sinners suffer. The other Sins manage their rings and hellborn, not Lucifer or Lilith. All three of the Morningstars can’t truly understand human suffering yet they profess to know how to best handle it. With no idea what it means to be human yet they pass judgement on them.

The crowd becomes agitated and the Imps beside the man move closer to him. They aren’t trying to draw safety from the Sinner but are taking defensive positions. Charlie realizes this isn’t someone speaking up in the heat of the moment. This is a planned speech. He’s highjacking her broadcast!

She sees the Sinner clench his fists and feels herself start to sweat. Why was he saying any of that? Yes, life will be a bit hard at first but now everyone can come together and rebuild! There are so many possibilities available to The Pride Ring. It would improve lives. Change was always good they just had to be careful. Yet the stranger goes on.

He claims that Lucifer is a washed up angel that can’t comprehend mortality because of his maladaptive dreaming and pride, Lilith is apathetic to Sinners and wishes to aggravate Heaven no matter how much Hell will suffer and Charlie is so sheltered that she thinks PTSD can be solved by clapping and saying positive affirmations.

Little is known about the royal family but the stranger’s comments sway the crowd. The hotel’s original commercials got the time of day because of Charlie’s status, not because the facility had managed to accomplish anything. Lucifer barely appears at all even when large fights break out leveling half of Pentagram City. And Lilith? Missing for 7 years after riling up all of Hell multiple times, causing Heaven to start the Exterminations.

The stranger calls the hotel a disgusting joke. Calls out how Charlie is trying to ‘pass the buck’ over to Heaven. The Pride Ring’s actual rulers are Overlords and they make sure Sinners suffer and continue to act depraved whether they like it or not. Her family has the power to take control and lessen the city’s suffering but they don’t. Instead they play with their little pet project .

Why are they focusing on shipping problems elsewhere? There’s a better way to solve the pain and suffering at the source than waiting! Fix Pentagram City! Show Heaven that the current number of Sinners isn’t a threat!

‘For all the crying and sniveling you do Princess Charlotte, you sure don’t actually help where it counts! I’m sure you care about Sinners but only on the same level as someone cares about cute public park ducks.’

Vaggie, who had been standing to the side of the stage leaps forward, places herself in between the stranger and her girlfriend. Everyone’s raised emotions have put her on edge. She ignores the harsh gasps when her angelic spear slides free and into her hands. ‘Back up! Now!’

Charlie’s heart sank at the escalation. She understood her girlfriend was still tense from the extermination but all their hard work was starting to fray around the edges! She just hoped her dad didn’t-

The King of Hell himself appears through a portal shortly after gathering himself together. The opening looked angrier in color, matching his mood. Sickly green lines run throughout the glow, radiating blistering heat. Parts of the stage began to melt and the forgotten camera crew swivel to their ruler. Lucifer’s face is set in stone but his bright flickering eyes give him away.

‘Who the fuck are you?’ He snarls, apple topped cane slamming onto the stage causing some of it to splatter. ‘How dare you speak to my daughter that way.’ Lucifer’s face morphs into a more demonic grimace. Katie Killjoy scrambles from her chair and off the stage at the same time as Charlie vaulting up to place a hand on Lucifer’s shoulder whispering ‘dad no!’ She doesn’t want the hotel’s improved reputation to evaporate. A confrontation with someone on live TV would scare people away!

Lucifer growls in the back of his throat, looking at where he assumes the bastard’s eyes are under his hood. Smoke and embers sizzle out from the corner of his mouth and inbetween teeth. He hated acting this way but he had an image to uphold. ‘Answer your King you wretch. Don’t confuse my inaction with benevolence. You’re testing my patience!’

After a beat or two of staring each other down the stranger has the gall to ‘tsk’ off to the side as if spitting. ‘As you with your majesty. It’s all fine by me.’ A small, scared hand reaches up and whips off the dirty hood exposing his face to all of Hell.

People instantly whip out their phones. His face is shockingly similar to Lucifer’s, in fact a basic carbon copy sans a few attributes.

Cameras catch alabaster skin and soft, blond, curly hair, short, wiry build, vivid green eyes, pale coral cheek markings, pointed ears and four demon wings the same color as his skin.

Leaf green eyes stair directly into Charlie’s while electing to ignore both fallen angels. He stands ramrod straight. Cutting a regal silhouette despite the filth on his body and clothes.

‘My name is Cain Adamson, The Wandering Star.’ He bows in a fashion Charlie hadn’t seen in all her galas. ‘Lucifer Morningstar’s first born and bastard son. It’s nice to finally meet you sister mine… I’ll be taking your family’s crown for my father.’

[So in this AU Cain rescued Adam’s body and resuscitated it. They had a familial bond even when Cain got banished for murdering Able and found out his bio dad was Lucifer. Eve didn’t pay much attention to her first born out of guilt so Adam stepped up. No one shamed her. Adam never felt like Cain was separate from his other kids even though he looked nothing like him. Now Cain wants to provide for his father who’s trapped in hell and in really bad condition by booting the Morningstars out of power in the Pride Ring.] Dunno about pairing but Adamsapple or Guitarhero would be a safe bet. Either way Lucifer will suffer lol

[wtf do I call this? Family Feud AU? Chessboard AU? Secret Brother AU? Idk h e l p ]

[senawashere]

We're on this together...(Chapter IV)

Bradley Bradshaw x Fem!Wife!Reader

Summary: Is it over now? Or is it starting now?

A/n: A MAJOR change is on the way!!

Warnings: Infertility,mentions of miscarrige,mentions of hospital,mentions of getting pregnant,mentiones of ivf.Use of alcohol,arguing,use of bad languange. Mostly angst.

20 APRIL 2022.

You nodded.

That's why you're currently in one of the most well known clinics in San Diego because Bradley didn't want to "risk it" and your leg shakes with anger at the thought, causing Bradley to rest his hand on your knee.

Car ride was complately silence. And after around one and half an hour you both finally parked your car to the parking lot and walked into the big hospital.

The sterile smell of the hospital immediately caught your nose. This scent wasn't helping you feel more stressed than you already were. But Bradley's tight grip on your hand seemed to comfort you at least a little.

He's nervous too, damn, he feels like he's going to throw up, but he has to stay strong for you and he relaxes a little when his lover rests her head on his shoulder and kisses her temple, which works because he's a little less nervous now.

"It'll be alright." You whisper and your husband smiles to hear you thinking positively.

"Exactly." He answers, his heart pounding with pride when he hears you optimistic for the first time in a long time.

You both are distracted by looking at socials on his phone for a few more minutes until a woman in white emerges from the office and looks up, reading a spreadsheet to say. "Bradshaw?"

You both stand up, You instantly reach out for Bradley to hold your hand tightly, and after greeting the woman, you both enter where the doctor is waiting for you behind her desk.

“Bradley, Y/N, this is a pleasure.” She shakes both of your hands.

"Thank you. Pleasure is ours." Bradley responds with the hand now holding on your lower back and gently pulling the chair forward for you to sit down on.

"Okay, I understand you're here because you're having trouble getting pregnant, right?" The old woman asks, looking under her round glasses.

"Yes." You hum, swallowing dryly.

Bradley takes your hand but continues to stare at the doctor, knowing his wife hates public attention, something he's learned the hard way over the last dozen years.

"We'll be running some tests on you both next week, don't worry, just to make sure everything is as it should be."

You both nodded, and both felt small in the hospital chairs, holding hands, afraid, feeling that time had not passed, and feeling that you were still sixteen years olds and had no idea what life was really like.

Talking about a future that would never come, wishing they could be like them again forever, they gathered in the treehouse as You stroked Bradley's uncontrollable hair, as he clumsily talked about his dreams, thinking that maybe one day he would love to be become a fighter pilot. Like his dad.

They both are individually subjected to multiple tests and studies, and after about three hours both of your works finish, returning home exhausted and not even eating dinner, you both quickly crawl under the covers and seek each other's warmth.

While Bradley plays with the ring on his ring finger, his head lies on his lover's chest. "Are you scared?" he asks and your hands stop in his hair.

"Maybe a baby isn't for us."

You look up and look at him in shock, feeling your throat close at the raw and harsh words and you heart starts pounding when you see his face.

"Darling, don't say that."

You look away, staring at the ceiling, feeling the tears gathering in your eyes until they fall down the sides onto your pillow.

You are not even sobbing, not screaming, nothing, just...crying. Silently.

"Oh, my love.” He grabs your arms to pull you closer, switching positions so you are on top of him, dipping his bare chest in the salty drops.

"We're going to have them, fuck, we're going to have the baby or maybe babies. We just have to wait for the results. I know we are going to."

He wants to cry too, but he can't cry in front of you when you need him more than ever. He will find a moment of solitude where he can lighten his own burden, but not now.

"I just want to make you happy." You cry and he frowns.

"You think I need a baby to be happy?"

Bradley questions, holding your waist and carresing with his thumb.

"Darling, as long as you're with me, anything can go to hell, I'll be the happiest man on earth. I don't need a baby, I don't need anything but you, my soul."

You hug him tighter, digging your nails into his shoulders and closing your eyes, breathing in the scent of home your husband gives off. Now you understand and blindly believe in it.

As long as they are together, they don't need anything else.

I know this is sad but it might be the last sad chapter hehehe!!!

I'm tagging people who might be interested:@ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @teacupsandtopgun @roosterforme @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[evanpeterswhoresblog]

High Infidelity

Regulus Black x f!reader, Sirius Black x f!reader (mentioned)

warnings: smut, unprotected p in v, slight mention of fingering, underage drinking, cheating sorry guys i couldn’t stop myself

summary: your boyfriend sirius and his friends have never felt welcoming. but his little brother is…

word count: 5.3k

a/n: once again i’m bad at summaries so basically you fuck regulus spoiler alert hahaha. inspired by taylor swift of course. she’s been inspiring too much smut from me tbh. anywaysss. hope you enjoy (my sneaky link “broke up” w me today and i’m devastated) so here’s this !!!

~~~

April 20, 1978

“That’s precisely what I was thinking Moony!”

“Are you sure Padfoot? I got the understanding that it was you and Prongs who shared thoughts.”

“I second that.”

“Honestly I believe if James didn’t have Lily, you blokes would be together.”

“Definitely.”

“Well, Sirius also has y/n as well.”

You felt the boy beside you brush your shoulder with his, and you gave him a smile. “Oh, yes.”

The conversation continued, but you zoned out once again. You played with the vegetables on your plate and tapped your foot. Anxiety was a common thing you felt during meals with your boyfriend and his friend group. They were wonderful, but you always felt they had something secretly against you.

You were a year younger than your boyfriend, you were in Slytherin, you were pureblood, and you were cordial with the other members of your house. You weren’t stupid enough to believe the Marauders didn’t suspect something bad of you, or the Gryffindor girls. Some of them were muggle born and while you didn’t care much for blood purity, you could tell they thought you did.

When you and Sirius had begun dating a few months earlier, you were far from oblivious to the initial disapproval of his friends. You could see the skeptical looks Lily would share with her friends; you could hear the small whispers in classes. It didn’t bother you at first, in fact, you understood their distrust. You thought it would go away with time. But by the end of your second month dating their friend, you realized it was never going to change.

Your relationship with Sirius in short was far from perfect. You liked him, of course, and he liked you. However, it was clear neither of you saw it lasting forever. Deep in the corners of your mind, you’d thought it that before, a life with the infamous Sirius Black. You imagined the two of you would get your own flat after you graduated, you’d be shunned of course by your family, but it wouldn’t matter because you’d have him. Realistically though, you knew that life would never be possible. If he didn’t care enough to tell you why he sneaks off on full moons, if he didn’t care enough to let you in on jokes, if he didn’t care enough to even assure his friends fully that you weren’t like the rest of your house, you’d never have a life with him.

Without thinking about it, your eyes drifted across the great hall to a certain person in your house. He sat straight with a smile on his face as he conversed with his mates. A piece of his hair was in his eye, you watched as he brushed it away. You always wondered why people said he wasn’t as good-looking as his brother. He was just as handsome in your opinion. He was tall, his eyes were starry, and his black curls were never frizzy. His accomplishments spoke for themself. Top of the year, star seeker for Slytherin, prefect, he was the ideal boy. His only flaw in your eyes was his obsession with Voldemort and blood purity. Though your family and his were close in that aspect, you never cared much for the topic. He did though.

Suddenly, his eyes met yours. You watched his smile falter for a few seconds and a different expression formed. You looked away quickly, your cheeks turned pink. That wasn’t the first time you’d been caught staring at Regulus Black during dinner. It was far from it.

~~~

That night you sat alone by the fire in your common room. You’d been invited up to Sirius’s dorm with a promise that the other Marauders wouldn’t be there, but you declined. Sirius was a great shag; it would be impossible for him not to be with how many girls he’d been with. Truthfully, you didn’t like the number of girls that came before you, but you never said anything. You simply weren’t in the mood that night for any more patronizing looks, so you opted to silently work on homework instead.

After some time of working, the door opened. You instinctively looked up and found your pulse quicken as you were met with the beautiful eyes of Regulus Black. He was with his friends, Barty Crouch Jr, and Evan Rosier, but his eyes were on you. You looked down at the sheets of paper in your lap and pretended to not notice the sound of Regulus telling his friends to go up to their dorm without him. When they left though, you were forced to drop the act.

“I thought you’d be up in the Gryffindor tower with all your blood traitor and mudblood friends,” he said after taking a few steps closer to you.

You swallowed and kept your eyes on your paper. “I wasn’t in the mood, and they aren’t really my friends.”

“Really? Y/n you’re shagging my brother I’m not daft.”

He was slowly getting closer; you could see his shoes in your peripheral vision. You subconsciously held your breath. You kept your composure as well as you could.

“Great observation Reg, not as if the whole school knows that. And besides, since when have you cared about that?”

“I always care when someone with blood as pure as yours taints it with someone like my blood traitor brother,” he replied as if it were obvious. “Plus, if you have forgotten I’ve caught you staring at me at least a dozen times within the past month.”

Your cheeks turned bright red. “About that-”

“Look at me.”

His sudden authority made a warm feeling spread in your stomach. Slowly, you lifted your head to look up at him. He was close, barely a foot away. There was an expression on his face you once again couldn’t fully understand. You watched him examine your blushing face in silence.

“Go on then, explain yourself,” he said after a few seconds.

“I didn’t mean to; it was just an... accident,” you mumbled, your eyes moving around the room as you spoke.

Regulus tisked and without warning bent down slightly and gently touched his fingers to your chin. You were speechless. “I prefer to be looked at when spoken to y/n it’s a sign of respect. Can you do that?” You nodded and he moved to his previous position of standing. “Continue.”

“Like I said it was an accident, I sort of space out a lot and I guess my eyes go back to our table,” you continued. You stared in his eyes the entire time as your heart began to beat in your ears.

“I would’ve believed that if it had happened only once or twice, but this has been quite a few times. What is Sirius not fulfilling you enough?”

“No, it’s nothing like that he’s great I just... I dunno. You’re just...” You found it hard to speak with his eyes on you. “I dunno all right? Let’s just forget it’s ever happened yeah?”

It was the truth. You really didn’t know what it was that made you stare at him. It was just something. He fascinated you with his complexity. Sirius was outgoing and popular, but Regulus was closed off and reserved. He’d only had one known girlfriend in Hogwarts, he only talked to his friends, and he was mysterious. He was the opposite of his brother. And you found it perplexing.

“If you say so,” he spoke after a moment. Then he turned and started to walk toward the staircase to the boy's dorm. But before he was too far, he looked back at you with a sliver of a smirk. “You can talk to me though, if you need to. You don’t have to simply stare because my brother is insecure.”

He disappeared up the stairs before you could reply. And you spent the rest of the evening with his words replaying in your head.

~~~

April 22, 1978

You sat at lunch; Sirius’s arm was draped over your shoulders, and he shook as he laughed hysterically at something James said. You tried to put on a fake smile, but you weren’t sure how convincing it was. There was something about the way Sirius held you that made you feel off. You felt almost trapped. You felt as though you were being tested or put on display.

As if it was a sixth sense, your eyes looked at the one table you’d been purposely avoiding. He was already looking at you, it caused your breath to catch in your throat. For a few seconds, the two of you stared at each other, what felt like a mutual feeling of understanding was communicated through your eyes. So, when he nodded to the doorway you understood completely what he wanted. And you agreed.

“I’ve got to run down to my dorm I just remembered I forgot my essay for McGonagal.” You made up an excuse. From across the hall, you noticed Regulus already walking toward the exit. “I should go get it before class.”

Sirius dropped his arm from your shoulders and smiled. “You’re too forgetful y/n/n, but be quick I was hoping to get a quick snog in before that dreadful class.”

“Right, I’ll be as quick as I can,” you said as you stood up. You leaned down and pressed a kiss to his cheek, ignoring the eyes that were on you. “Don’t have too much fun without me.”

“I could never!” He exclaimed as you began to walk away.

Truthfully, you weren’t too sure of where Regulus went. You relied on the gut feeling in your stomach to guide you. With anxiety and anticipation flowing through your body, you made your way down a few halls before you found an abandoned classroom. The door was open a sliver, and somehow you knew it was the one.

He was inside, leaning on one of the desks with his arms crossed over his chest. “Close the door.”

You didn’t hesitate to listen to his request. Once it was closed you turned back to face him. “I don’t... I don’t really know what to say.”

“You looked like you needed to escape, you don’t have to talk,” he replied. His face was almost soft. “Am I the only one who knows how you feel?”

“You don’t know how I feel,” you mumbled.

Regulus rolled his eyes. “Just because you haven’t told me doesn’t mean I can’t read your face. It’s almost unbearable how miserable you look while you sit there. Why do you do it?”

You only stared at him, almost starstruck. Has he always been so observant? Or was your pain noticeable? You didn’t know what came over you, but you only acted on it. Before you could stop yourself, you moved across the room until you were barely a foot away from him. Regulus has always been perceived as cold and rude, but in that moment, he looked at you with sincerity no one could deny. Regulus knew you. That was all it took.

Without another thought you grabbed his tie and crashed your lips on his. His lips were soft and warm. Unlike his brothers, Regulus’s lips didn’t feel as though they’d been kissed thousands of times. He felt far less welcoming but nevertheless inviting. But your senses came flooding back fast and you pushed yourself away from him.

You stepped back and covered your burning lips with your hand. “Oh my... I’m- I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have. Fuck I’m terrible.”

“Y/n-”

“No, I can’t do this. I have to go.” You cut him off as you began to move to the door, tears forming in your eyes.

The last thing you heard was Regulus calling your name before you ran down to your dorm.

~~~

April 23, 1978

He was watching you. You could feel his eyes burning into you through every class and meal. Is that how he felt all those times you’d stared at him? It was uncomfortable, to say the least. You tried to pretend he wasn’t, you really did. But it was nearly impossible. You made sure you were accompanied by Sirius or one of your other friends throughout the entire day until you weren’t.

You were just running to the bathroom. You thought it would be quick enough for him to even notice you slipped out of class. It was stupid of you to think that. Just as you were about to enter the girl's bathroom, you felt a hand grab one of your wrists to stop you.

“You can’t avoid this y/n,” he said softly.

You inhaled sharply, refusing to look at him. “Let me go Regulus.”

“I don’t care about what happened and I’m not going to tell on you if that’s what you’re worried about,” he replied quickly.

“Then what do you want? I just- it was a mistake all right?” You felt your heart pounding in your chest. His hand was still on your wrist, your skin practically burned from the contact.

“Look at me.” His voice was hard. You turned slowly to look at him. His expression was soft, he looked almost... worried. “I know we’ve never been that close, but I suppose I’m now involved in your issues. You can talk to me; I want you to talk to me. You can’t keep all of whatever you’re feeling built up inside. It’ll only make you act out impulsively like yesterday.”

You let out a shaky breath. “It was a mistake. It should have never happened I was just... overwhelmed.”

“I know. And I don’t blame you.”

You hated how he said just the right words to make you fold completely.

“They don’t trust me. Even your brother. They seem to think I have some deep plot or that I want to murder the muggle-borns. It’s just... it’s too much Reg. I hate being constantly watched, it’s like they’re waiting for me to make a wrong move that proves their theories.”

“So, why don’t you leave?”

His question caught you off guard. Why didn’t you leave? You hadn’t really thought about it. Sure, you knew that you and Sirius were going to end eventually. But you hadn’t given much thought to how it would occur. Perhaps a mutual agreement? You didn’t know. And you told Regulus exactly that.

“Well, then it’s your fault you feel this way,” he replied.

You scoffed and pulled your wrist from his grip. “Thanks, Reg, you really know how to cheer a girl up.”

“Do you want me to lie and say it’s not your fault? Sorry, I’ll give it another go. It’s not your fault at all y/n, you’re being forced to be around my blood-traitor brother and all his mud-blood friends.” His voice was cold, but for some reason, it didn’t make you feel small. “Was that better?”

“Listen I know I have the choice but it’s just... it’s hard when you care about someone,” you said, ignoring his question.

He sighed and shook his head. “If leaving isn’t what you plan on, then I suppose you’ll have to settle on talking to Sirius about how you feel. I assume you haven’t done that yet?” You shook your head, and he rolled his eyes. “Then talk to him and see if maybe that helps.”

“But what if-”

“If he reacts badly then you break up with him, it’s not that hard to comprehend y/n. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to return to our class, so no one gets any more suspicious.” He cut you off.

You were left outside the girl's bathroom with your mind racing, and your wrist still tingling where Regulus had held it.

~~~

April 25, 1978

It took you over a day to muster up the courage to follow through with Regulus’s suggestion. No wonder you weren’t in Gryffindor. The opportunity for you to speak with Sirius alone came after lunch when the two of you had a free period. As usual, you spent most of the time up in Sirius’s bed. So, as the two of you laid next to each other, spent from another good time, you decided it was a good time to bring up how you felt.

“Sirius,” you spoke softly. Your head was on his chest, your fingers drawing circles on his skin. “Can I talk to you about something?”

“’ Course love, anything,” he replied sweetly.

You inhaled deeply and kept your head down. “We’ve been seeing each other for a decent amount of time now and I’ve enjoyed it very much, but it’s just...” You swallowed. “Your friends... they don’t accept me.”

“How do you mean?”

“Come on, don’t you see how they treat me? They always give me these looks; they whisper about me. I’m sure they’ve all voiced their concern about me to you,” you answered.

“They don’t mean it to make you feel bad, they just you know... Lily is muggle-born, and so is Mary.”

“I’m aware of that. That has nothing to do with me, you should know I don’t care about blood status.”

“Well yes but your house, the people you are friends with, they care. You can’t blame my friends for being weary.”

You sat up and looked at Sirius, suddenly full of anger. “I am not like the other people in my house, and it’s hypocritical for them to judge me based on that. Have I ever proven myself to be anything like the other Slytherins?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing Sirius. I’m not like them, and it hurts that you don’t even bother to make your friends believe that.” You cut him off. You got off his bed and began to gather your clothes. “It’s clear I’m not welcome here.”

“Y/n-”

You began to button your shirt. “No Sirius it’s fine, I understand. I thought you Gryffindors were supposed to be welcoming, I suppose that assumption was wrong too.”

Just as you were about to bend down to retrieve your tie, you felt Sirius’s warm hands on your hips. Instinctively, you turned to look at him. He stared up at you with a frown on his face. You hated how perfect he still looked with such a sour expression.

“You’re right, I should advocate for you more. I’ll do that from now on. You are nothing like the other Slytherins, you’re perfect y/n. I’m sorry for not catching on to this sooner.” His words were sincere, you could tell. It made your anger subside.

“Thank you,” you said, a small smile on your lips.

“Now, can you get back into bed for a little longer?” He asked.

You nodded with a chuckle and slid back beneath the sheets. Though you felt relieved and happy at the outcome of your conversation, you couldn’t help but think about what Regulus’s reaction to the news would be.

For some reason, you knew he wouldn’t be pleased.

~~~

April 26, 1978

His eyes searched your face; you tried your hardest to keep your expression neutral. The two of you were up in the astronomy tower, the glow of the moon and stars your only source of light. You didn’t know why you felt almost ashamed telling him about the conversation you had with Sirius. Something deep within you knew the outcome wasn’t what the younger Black brother wanted.

“I’m a bit confused,” he said after a moment of silence.

“What about?”

“If the conversation truly went as you say it did, why aren’t you happy?”

“What do you mean? I am happy. I think I even saw a bit of improvement today,” you answered honestly.

Regulus only shrugged and turned to look off the balcony. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“I really am happy Reg this is what I wanted. Now they won’t be so judgmental and perhaps I’ll start to finally feel welcomed,” you replied.

You stared at him for a minute. The soft glow of the moonlight illuminated his features in a way you’d never seen before. He was handsome. With his sharp jawline, his dark curly hair, and his prominent cheekbones how could he not be handsome?

Eventually, he turned his eyes back to you, and for a split second, your breath caught in your throat. There was something intense in his light eyes that you couldn’t decode. It made heat rush straight to your face.

“All right, if that’s what you want,” he said. “See you around.”

With that, he left. And you almost followed him, almost.

~~~

April 27, 1978

Something was wrong with you. Very wrong.

You couldn’t stop thinking about the one boy in Hogwarts you really shouldn’t have been thinking about. It was wrong, especially in the way you were thinking about him. You tried to distract yourself in every way you could. With your friends, with Sirius, with schoolwork. But nothing worked.

Perhaps it was the intense dream you’d had the previous night that kept your mind wandering. After all, who could simply brush off an intense sexual dream about their boyfriend's brother? It made you blush and feel ashamed each time it crossed your mind throughout the day. And when you saw Regulus around the school, you almost fell apart.

It was as though a switch had been flipped inside you. Gone were the innocent friendly thoughts you had about the younger Black brother. They were replaced by awfully inappropriate ones.

But you were determined to make them vanish. Because to act on such thoughts would be terrible.

Right?

~~~

April 28, 1978

Avoiding Regulus was hard given he was in almost all your classes, and he shared the same common room as you. But you tried your hardest. You spent the day clung to Sirius as much as you could, despite the fact you were upset with him. Being around him meant being away from his brother. That was the important thing.

Things between you and Sirius’s friends had not changed much. You wondered if he had even said anything to them. If he did, it didn’t seem like it. It hurt you, but it didn’t occupy your thoughts as much as it previously had.

Actually, it made you realize something you were too afraid to admit.

Regulus seemed to care more about your feelings than your boyfriend.

That thought scared you. And it only made your improper thoughts about him grow.

~~~

April 29, 1978

You sat up in the Astronomy tower with your legs dangling off the balcony, a bottle of firewhiskey beside you. For the first time in months, you couldn’t deal with your thoughts without a substance. Luckily your boyfriend had a stash of alcohol and was able to spare you a small bottle. So, you took it with a big thank you and practically ran up to the tower. You needed to clear your head. You needed to escape.

There was a slight breeze, it made you clutch your robe tighter around your body. The alcohol helped too. You took another swig, a sigh escaping your lips at the feeling. You liked the way it made your chest warm, and how it made the thoughts of Regulus fade.

Suddenly, you heard footsteps. You gathered the bottle into your robe but remained seated. Whoever it was, they’d catch you anyway. There weren’t many hiding spaces in the tower. So, you prepared for an angry Filch to scold you.

“I figured you’d be up here, your roommates said they hadn’t seen you, neither did my brother.” The gentle voice of the boy you were trying to avoid spoke.

You whipped your head around fast, your mouth hung open slightly. He was only a few feet away from you, and still getting closer. “You talked to him about me?”

“Told him we have a project together and he still wasn’t very welcoming. I see why you feel out of place now,” he answered as he lowered himself to sit beside you. “Care to share any of that with me?”

“Since when do you drink Mr. Prefect?” You questioned skeptically.

He shrugged. “I’ve indulged before, is that surprising? I am almost of age you know.”

“You just don’t seem like the type that’s all,” you replied honestly. You removed the bottle from under your robe and handed it to him. “I’m a bit ahead of you though.”

Regulus didn’t reply. Instead, he popped the cap off the bottle and took a few swigs. You watched carefully, unable to hide your smile when his face scrunched up from the bitterness. Even then, he was still beautiful.

“Wine is much better than this,” he said after a minute as he handed the bottle back to you.

You nodded. “Taste wise, yes, but this gets you drunk much faster.”

“Is that what you want? To get drunk?”

You nodded again and took a swig from the bottle. He had a point, firewhiskey tasted awful. But you needed it, especially since Regulus had caught you alone and even more because he looked far too good in the moonlight.

“I thought things were going to get better with my brother,” he spoke.

“I thought so too but it seems he isn’t good at keeping his word,” you replied with a frown.

Regulus chuckled and took the bottle again. “Well look at him, he’s a filthy blood traitor, what do you see in him?”

“He’s kind, outgoing, very fun to party with, and of course one of the most handsome boys in the school,” you answered. You couldn’t help but smile when Regulus rolled his eyes. “None of that matters though. We’ll be splitting up soon.”

“Yeah?”

The hope in his voice was undeniable. It made your heart rate quicken.

“Yeah. He’ll be leaving school soon and we never really planned to last this long anyway so it only makes sense that we’ll be splitting.”

As he handed you the bottle back, your fingers brushed. You held in your breath, your mouth suddenly felt dry, and a tingle began in the small place where his skin met yours. Your eyes met again and from the way his starry eyes suddenly appeared darker you knew he felt what you did.

You should’ve looked away. You knew you should’ve. You’d like to blame the alcohol for the way you felt, but Regulus Black had proven himself to be more magnetic than any boy you’d ever met so there was no use excusing it. So, despite the fact it was wrong, you didn’t move when he started to lean closer.

“I’m glad to hear that,” he said, his voice quieter than before.

“I’m sure you are,” you replied. He was close, his lips only inches away from yours.

“Why’s that?” He asked.

His eyes were so beautiful, you could barely focus on the words that came out of his mouth. “Because you...”

Your eyes fluttered shut and you felt his soft lips brush against yours. He was so gentle; you could barely even feel him. And after only a few seconds he pulled back. Your eyes remained closed.

“Because I’m...?”

“Reg, don’t make me ask you.”

“Oh, but I want to hear it so bad.”

“Just shut up and kiss me already.”

He didn’t hesitate to fulfill your request and soon enough he was kissing you with an intensity you weren’t sure you ever felt before. One of his hands fell to your waist, his fingers quickly untucking your shirt from your skirt. You let your fingers run through his curls as you’d imagined doing so many times over the previous days.

When he pushed you back and urged you to lie down, you did it. When he pushed your knees apart and slid between your legs you didn’t protest. It was terrible, you were cheating on your boyfriend with his little brother. But at that moment no thoughts could even register in your head. All you could think about was how good Regulus’s body felt against yours and how good he was at kissing.

Perhaps things moved faster than they should’ve. Perhaps they should’ve never moved in that direction to begin with. Either way, within only a few minutes both of your robes were discarded and one of Regulus’s hands was between your thighs. His lips remained on yours as he toyed with you, his soft kiss engulfed each of your moans. You traced your fingertips up and down his back, your hand under his shirt. He was soft but rough, he was perfect.

“I want you,” he suddenly whispered against your lips.

Your eyes opened, he pulled back a bit, and your eyes met his. He didn’t stop his fingers; you could barely think of what to say. “I want you too Reg.”

“Right now?” He asked.

“Right now,” you assured him breathlessly.

You watched him fumble with his belt for a few seconds before he distracted you with another kiss. He was intoxicating, to say the least. Every one of your senses was flooded with Regulus Black. The scent of his cologne, the feeling of his hands under your skirt, the taste of the firewhiskey he’d previously drank, the sound of his shallow breath, the brief glimpses you stole of his pretty face, it was almost too much for you to handle.

Once his belt was finally undone you felt him shift and you knew what was to come. You didn’t think of stopping him for a second. Instead, you threaded your fingers back in his black curls and held him tighter. He pushed your panties to the side and without warning began to slowly push his cock inside you.

You bit down on his lip, your back arched off the floor, and your thighs squeezed around him. He didn’t stutter with his movements and began to thrust in and out at a pace that made your head spin and your insides warm.

After a few minutes, he began to trail his mouth down your neck, the sensation making it impossible for you to stay quiet. You gripped one of his biceps with your hand and your eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you. He was careful despite the heat of the moment, however. You were silently grateful. No marks would be left on your skin.

“Reg,” you moaned. “Fuck Reg.”

He staggered for a moment. “Are you okay?” The vibration of his voice on your skin made you almost moan again.

“Yes, yes. Please don’t stop,” you whimpered.

It would be impossible for you to know exactly how long it went on. But by the time it was over, you felt no effects from the alcohol you’d drank before. You came hard, arguably harder than you’d ever come in your life. Regulus did something to you that you couldn’t understand. So, when he asked if it was ok for him to finish inside you said yes.

The two of you laid next to each other in the aftermath, a few inches between your bodies. Sweat covered the inside of your shirt, and another substance leaked between your thighs. You only stared at the ceiling and the stars above as you steadied your breathing.

“I won’t tell,” Regulus said after some time.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly. You were still in a daze; your mind couldn’t process what had just occurred. You sat up, your back was already starting to ache. “I should go.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw Regulus sit up too. “Yeah, you should.”

You slid your robe over your arms and straightened out your tie and shirt. Before you stood, you made sure to grab the bottle of firewhiskey and conceal it under your clothes. You looked down at Regulus briefly, he was already looking at you. It made your face heat up.

You gave him a weak smile. “I’ll um... I’ll see you tomorrow then. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

You escaped before anything else could be said and raced down to your dorm.

The whole night you tossed and turned in bed, your head full of thoughts that would not let you sleep. You cheated on Sirius. With his brother. It was almost unimaginable. You’d never thought of cheating before, it never crossed your mind. But there you were a cheater.

You just hoped Sirius wouldn’t ask where you were on April 29th.

Because he really wouldn’t want to know.

[writers-potion]

I just found your account and really adore all of you prompts and tips! 💖I wanted to ask how to possibly display a teen character who is kind at first, then becomes more cold due to the heavy load of their trauma and even becoming a scary, calculated ,manipulative bully to their loved one. How could I portray the gradually shift/build up in their concerning behavior and attitude, as well as how they treat said loved one without immediately resorting to physical violence and name calling to show it?

Kind To Mean: Character Development

Hi! Thanks for the ask :)

When we experience bad things in life, there are broadly two ways to frame the situation: (1) finding responsibility in ourselves and (2) finding responsibility in the world.

The way we choose to distribute responsibility between the self and the external world is vary by circumstance. What's clear, however, is placing blame only on one side is almost never helpful.

For example: Child Abuse

The World's Responsibility: Child abuse is clearly something that a person can blame the abusers for. They can resent the neighbors who never helped them and be angry at the world for giving them such a bad, traumatising experience. If they keep living in this "blame the world" mindset for 20 years, however, their situation will not improve.

Individual's Responsibility: It is partly up to the individual to be responsible for their past trauma. They may have not chosen to be hurt but now that they are, they need to step up for themselves and work on a healing process. But if they swing too far and blame themselves for inducing abuse, it would be unhealthy too.

Show how your character swings like a pendulum between these two attitudes, slowly tipping more to an angry, blaming mindset.

Small Disappointments With the World

At first, your character will start in the middle. They may be suffering, but they're still open to trying to understand the world and maybe even find forgiveness/peace with it.

Then:

Show how they try to better the situation, but face failures. This doesn't have to be a big moment of rejection, but something that makes the character feel disappointed and hesitant.

Toxic meritocracy. Show side characters who have "you can do anything if you try" mindset. Slowly, your character will stop seeking help, believing that the people around them don't really want to help.

The loved one may be unable to fully understand/accept the feelings of the character. When someone is traumatized, it's a hard thing for their loved ones too; they may not know how they should react and sometimes, this can give rise to more friction between them.

Eventually, your character distances themselves from the world and kind of losses touch with reality. They feel lonely and cannot find any motivation to commuicate with the world.

Soon, they'll stop communicating rationally but only lash out emotionally at every little thing.

Small Disappointments With the Self

Your character will at times swing to the other side and blame themselves for the trauma.

Show how they become filled with hope, then fall even deeper into self hate. They may make an elaborate plan for "self development" but when it doesn't work out on Day 2, they abandon themselves.

Internalizing toxic meritocracy.

Show how they say harsh things they say to themselves at the loved one instead, knowing they shouldn't be saying it to them.

Lashing out can be a form of self protection. When the character knows that they're in a bad place, they may feel ashamed and not want to show it to their loved one. When the love one tries to help and get closer, the character will push.

Alternate between the extremes of self-blaming and world-blaming, especially when writing internal dialogue.

Your character will have moments when they "snap" and start lashing out suddenly. Build up to this moment by showing how the character "rehearses" such a thing in their head before they do it.

Here's an example:

Character: I'm such a loser who can't even go to the supermarket without trembling. Why am I like this? Loved One: "Hey, will you get some eggs for me?" Character: Oh no no no no no. I can't! She knows I'm scared of supermarkets, then why is she telling me to go? She wants to make me feel like a loser. God, she's looking at me as if I'm a loser that I probably am. I want to run, just run from this place -- Loved One: "You going or not?" [Character suddenly springs up from their chair, shoves the Loved One aside, and runs away]

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[durn3h]

I've always wondered why so many governments keep investing tons of money into those stupid solar roadways projects when it makes 0 sense to anyone with a brain, but I just realized that it makes sense why this happens.

More and more funding is going into green energy and more and more people are wanting to see their government taking direct action to do something about green energy. There's money to be spent, but facilities require land that the government in most locations doesn't have, but they do have shittons of roads, so the most hassle free way of producing green electricity is to throw down solar panels in the one place they have complete control of the land, and then they get to claim that they are on the cutting edge of the science to appease their voters

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

i think it would be funny if people occasionally arose from the dead. like if that was a real-life one-in-a-million but well-documented Thing That Sometimes Happens, and the entire legal system around death (laws on inheritance & marriage & murder etc) had to include caveats for the unlikely-but-scientifically-possible event that the dead person in question might spontaneously self-resurrect, even years or decades after death. it would raise so many inconvenient and absurd possibilities

[natjennie]

what's weird about the fantasy high drama is that like. it seems to me like people forget d&d is primarily a) a game you play with your friends and also b) luck based.

I mean it's fine to say that "nothing felt like a challenge" and "they just dominated everything and there weren't any stakes" but like. it's not as if they weren't up against huge threats. they lost the mall fight. the last stand was an onslaught of enemies. they fought a dozen dragons from an airship. the fights were hard. they're just really good. they've had very good dice luck in general this season and are all very high level and highly specialized. fig is gonna beat deception and performance checks. adaine's gonna figure out the arcana. riz is gonna succeed investigations. like. for some reason their strategical competence and wisely picked abilities are. a downside? a disappointment?

the thing about d&d that you need to remember is it's first and foremost a game. it's mostly random and it takes you down weird paths and you're playing to have fun with your friends. the dice are literally telling the story that it's their time, it's their year. they've struggled enough. they've trained enough. they're good at what they do. and in my post about the academic/domestic/personal stressors being the focus, d&d doesn't have any other system to work them out than rolling different skills. that's what d&d is. brennan set specific challenge levels for different tasks and the players strategized to prioritize which abilities they were strongest in. the challenges were there. and the players rose to them. they were both smart in their delegation of responsibilities and lucky with their dice rolls. of which, both are foundations of d&d.

don't mistake them being good players and getting lucky with there being no hardship. just because they smashed through the wall, that doesn't mean the wall wasn't strong. they were just stronger.

[horsegir1]

about a month and a half ago i started meditating pretty consistently every day for only 10 minutes and it's actually lifechanging i'm so serious

[medicinemane]

And maybe you'll be like "but if you don't trust businesses, how can you trust welfare?"

I fucking don't. My mom trying to get on food stamps fucked me up because a lady I never met without my permission got my SSN from my mom and started editing my files. My heart still races to this very second whenever I think about it, it kinda messed me up bad and I'll never ever ever see any kind of recourse

And I'm terrified that I'm gonna lose my medicaid just cause I inherited some money from my grandpa

And I've never even applied for disability cause it kinda doesn't matter finding out if I'd qualify or not cause of my depression, when the rules are so restrictive I don't know if I've even be allowed to keep my house

I do not fucking trust these things on a personal level. I feel like out of a lot of people I have the most to fear from them cause I'm on the edge of having things work, and that gets you punished

...but I need medicaid in order to have insurance (and when you strip out the finance side of medicaid, I love medicaid... they're honestly incredible insurance... I just... I just... dental is like 90% of why medicaid is so important to me, ever since I found out this state pays for it I've actually been able to do cleanings which is important to me cause I can't always get myself to brush)

And I think things like disability and food stamps are pretty damn important on a personal level, and honestly are also good for the economy cause they get people spending... it's practically a free cash infusion into the economy, cause these are people who need to buy stuff

There's just so much important stuff welfare does that it's worth dealing with government

No, what I want is more accountability so if someone gets my SSN from a 3rd party like my mom they're held to HIPPA styles standards where that's not ok to access my files without my permission (She changed my fucking address and tried to get medicaid to investigate me for fraud! Never even met me)

Like have some accountability there and in every situation

Secondly I want less punitive focused rules. I'd frankly prefer bezos get on disability than smack down some poor sod cause they got $2000 in the bank or cause their friend lets them live with them for free

If there's gonna be a cut off on these programs, it needs to be a solid step above the poverty line, cause... by definition I assume poverty line denotes kinda the minimum expected income people can reasonably live off of, and if you take away benefits people are gonna lose a chunk of money to covering that stuff themself, so you need a buffer before you kick people off

I don't fucking trust the government for a second, I've actively been fucked by them and on a personal level I avoid everything but medicaid and only that cause everything but the money is pleasant to deal with and I kinda need it (honestly if I was rich I'm not even kidding that I'd rather give medicaid like $400 a month than some insurance company, I sincerely like them as insurance)

But I'd trust them a lot more if they were less punitive, less out to hunt me down and gut me cause someone handed me a fiver or cause I started to get on my feet, and if government employees had concrete rules they had to follow that were actually transparent and enforced

Like 90% of my problems with welfare go away if they're held accountable and there's less "catch the welfare cheats" mentality going around

I don't trust the government in the slightest, but sadly there some jobs it kinda has to do, so I'd just rather force it to be an open book where the public can keep an eye on it and if they step out of line there's consequences (sort of like I don't trust most mega corps but happen to sometimes need stuff from them... did you know literally every cell service provider has been illegally selling shit like your location data to random people like bounty hunters, and the FCC just slapped them with a fine that's 0.02% of their yearly incomes and debated even doing that? I even can offer a source on that)

...I don't trust much of any authority cause they constantly fail me and kinda screw me. Don't trust doctors either, but I still gotta go to them, you know? ...they're just... they're real bad at listening... so many systems need systemic change

(You know who I really don't trust is the cops. I could point to so many examples. My uncle doesn't trust cops either, and he's an ex Fire and SWAT paramedic, he worked with them and we still got into a long conversation where he basically tore into them far better than I can)

(I don't trust authority that's not accountable)

[floral-hex]

So this chick has been on-and-off again stalking me since high school. I could go into paragraphs of detail (I was about to), but no one wants to read all of that. Suffice to say, I guess she’s had some kind of crush on me for about 15-20 years or so (why??), and every few years it seems she pops up somewhere contacting me to try to persuade me to give her a chance. I should mention we never talked in high school, I actively avoided her, told her I didn’t like her, etc. nothing doing.

Anyway, somehow she’s been on one of my social media pages and saw I was having a hard time lately, so she found my phone number (what?? I hate that you can just find that online) and texted me out of the blue yesterday. Usual protocol is ignore and block so I don’t piss off an unstable person, but they decided to be gross, so

I wasn’t planning on posting anything about this before. If they were creeping around on my pages, mentioning it would only feed into them. Maybe. I don’t know. But this just kind of made me really uncomfortable and their response was shitty. I could have been a lot meaner. I wanted to be. But whatever, that wouldn’t have helped. So I just blocked them and hope that this time it sticks. If they see this, then hey… not cool.

[writers-potion]

How do you write age differences in relationships? 14 and 16 year old, the 16 just tried 16.

Writing Age Differences in Fictional Couples

I've written a post about age gaps, so check it out!

First, I don't think 14 and 16 need a lot of "age gap" development. They're pretty much in the same stage of life, and their interests/social circles will overlap a lot. If they're both in school, the difference really shouldn't be that much.

The age difference really plays into a relationship when the two of them have an imbalance in terms of life experience.

Being in middle school vs. high school. If this is the case, you can show how the younger character struggles to understand the "high school culture".

Going to college vs. Not going to college. I'm supposing your characters are in school, and I think this can make a huge difference. Someone who plans to start their own business/ pursue the arts, etc. will have a different mindset than someone who's planning to study engineering or business, for example. One might be caught up in the stress of SATs and APs while the other tries to navigate the toxic parts of the music industry, for example.

A LOT happens in your early twenties. A 20-year-old college student living with their parents and hanging out with friends might feel way less mature than a 24-year-old with their first job who moved out of their parents' house. A 29-year-old and a 33-year-old who are both working adults will have a significantly smaller imbalance.

In the beginning of the relationship, the 14-year old may be intimidated by how mature the other character feels, especially if there's a gap in the level of physical development. You can show them getting more comfortable with each other as they talk more.

If there isn't a particular factor that makes the characters play in different pools of experiences, I actually suggest not addressing the age gap issue in the story. If they can vibe without being too awkward, why bring it up?

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[allroseshave-their-pricks]

sometimes it's so fun to casually mention your age and see the eyes of the guys who have flirted with/hooked up widen, as they realize they accidentally chose the youngest person at the table

[rosicheeks]

😢