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darkestspring · 28 days

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Request for big sister reader please with platonic yanderes Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond where reader is the one who has cared for them since young so they absolutely adore her. However, Rhaenyra wants to take her full sister with her to Dragonstone. The three do whatever it takes to make sure reader stays with them.

You were only a few years younger than Rhaenyra. Old enough to grieve your mother, who you loved greatly but not old enough to feel the same injustice your sister did when your father remarried and decided to take Lady Alicent as his wife.

In the months between Alicent becoming queen and up until Aegon's birth, Rhaenyra became increasingly more at your side, shooting Alicent a distasteful glare whenever she got close to you, even doing so when it was your father who came near you.

You were her sister, her flesh and blood, you both mourned, you were vulnerable, she wouldn't let anyone take advantage of you in this state.

But she couldn't deny the jealousy eating at her when you happily started to carry Aegon around, beaming and happily chatting about your new baby sibling to anyone who would listen.

You loved Aegon, of course, he was loud and sticky and stinky, like all babies were but he was your baby brother! You were his big sister, so you'd always love him and look out for him.

"Do you like your new brother, dearest?" Your father asked you one day, running his hair softly through your hair and you nodded happily, beaming up at him.

"Yes! I like Aegon a lot, I'm his big sister! So, I'll take care of him." You were happy at the touch of affection from your father.

Viserys, Alicent, and Otto all smiled at the answer which only incensed Rhaenyra more. You were her sister! Not that... that stupid baby's! He had only been born but he was stealing you and her rightful place as the next ruler from her. Her father had promised and sworn but he had the son he wanted now, so what would happen now?

Nothing, as she found out, she was still the next ruler, as the King's first born child. The revelations calmed her fears, as did the happiness on your face when you congratulated her.

She could always count on you. Her lovely sister.

Just as you adored Aegon, you love Helaena just as much. You had a little sister! Your very own little sister! She was such a quiet thing, but just as lovely!

Her quietness made her no less lovely to you. You carried her around, bringing her flowers to show her and little bugs in small jar before letting them go.

"If you love something, let them go. If they love you, they'll come back. That is why I'll always be by your side, lovely Aegon, sweet Helaena." You cooed at the three year old Aegon and eight months old Helaena.

"Sister." Aegon babbled, clinging close to you. He hated being away from you.

only about six months late, came baby Aemond and Rhaenyra hated how doting you were.

But things were peaceful for a while, things were still good. you spent most of your time with Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond. Taking walks with them, reading to them, playing with them.

Rhaenyra remained distant from them but not from you, she was as close as ever with you. She wanted to bring you to dragonstone. it was hers. as the heir, it was hers but you didn't want to leave while your younger siblings were still growing up.

She didn't want to leave you, so she let it be.

You were so happy for your sister when she got married, happy for your cousin Laenor too. You were even happier when both Alicent and your sister announced their pregnancies to you.

"Oh! Rhaenyra! I'm so happy for you!" You held her hands in yours, a beaming smile on your face. "Oh! I wonder if it'll be a girl or a boy!" You beamed happily before turning to your stemother.

"I'm so happy for your too! I'll be a big sister again! Oh, i wonder if Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond will be happy too." It'll Aemond's first time being a younger brother! You're overjoyed for him.

Alicent and Rhaenyra glared at each other when you weren't looking and you were oblivious as you were sucked in your joy.

You didn't get much time with Daeron but you were overjoyed by him, always trying to be there for him but Jace.

Oh sweet Jace, you adored your nephew. You coddled him endlessly, which Rhaenyra was happy about and your younger siblings weren't. Their nephew was jjust a bastard child, what did he have that they didn't?

It only became worse with luke's birth. They hated them both.

When Rhaenyra decided to leave for Dragonstone, she begged you to come with her.

"Oh, sister. Our younger siblings needs me here," You didn't want to make your sister feel bad but your siblings were still so young! Aemond was such a fragile child, as was Helaena and Aegon.

Rhaenyra held your hands in hers, her face twisted into a saddened expression. "I need you as well, sister. I am..." There was one more thing she could try to convince you with. "I am frightened, sister. All these baseless rumors. They all sneer at my children, I can't take it anymore. Jace and Luke, Joffrey too, I don't want them to bear the consequences of the ill rumors." It wasn't manipulation, she was indeed scared but if this took you aware from her siblings who sneered at her children and from her stepmother who openly questioned her children's legitimacy, then so be it.

Your face fell and you were quick to try and soothe your sister. "Oh! Oh, sister, do not fret." You whispered softly, hugging her softly, "Those awful people with nothing better to do! Jace is a prince, your heir, and luke will be the heir of driftmark one day, I am certain of it. How dare they!" Your sister shouldn't have to suffer such things.

"All I need is you by my side, please come with me." Rhaenyra pleaded with you.

"Oh, of course, I'll come with you. I shouldn't be away too long though." You fretted softly and Rhaenyra softly smiled at you.

You'd be too content to worry about coming back, she'd make sure of it.

As you left to dragonstone with Rhaenyra and her family, Rhaenyra waved at the watching trio while you weren't watching, only angering them further.

'I win.' she smiled as you.

#house of the dragon x reader #this is fun to write #the utter pettiness

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urfavouritegirlie · 6 months

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Hobie HC's

Is of Jamaican descendant. His grandparents moved to England from Jamaica because of the job opportunities.

Has 5 older sisters and he's the youngest. (Knows how to treat women)

Is his dads favourite child.

Knows how to cook Jamaican dishes and does it passionately.

He loves jerk chicken. (Who doesn't?)

Has a big family. Uncles and aunties and a whole bunch of cousins ranging from 30s to babies.

Very family orientated before he was bitten.

Is distant to them now so they won't be in danger. Only close to his immediate family but only see them a few times.

His extended family think he's a rebel and a disappointment but they don't know him like his family do.

Excelled at school even though he thinks the school system is fraud.

Got his first piercing when he was 14. Asked his 5th born sister to go with him.

Had a hard time hiding the fact he is Spiderman until he found a place of his own. Small cheap apartment.

Hates politicians.

If some of them were campaigning to be Prime Minister he would would play his guitar on multiple speakers on high volume to disturb.

Has a good amount of money from when he modelled. Designers were begging him to model their latest outfits because they loved his look. Tall and slim. Immediately quit after big brands were after him. Did not want that kind of attention.

Prefers to do small shows with his band.

Was given so many numbers on pieces of paper from girls backstage.

Does not call any of them.

When he met Miles, got the need to protect him like an older brother. Was a nice change for him.

Has been suspicious of Miguel but doesn't show it. Waited till something happened aka Miles.

Can sip Wray and Nephews and not feel a thing. He has a limit tho.

Has a folder of drawings from kids that draw him.

Is an uncle to a nephew and two nieces. Sends them gifts 'from uncle Hobs'.

Check out the Miles 1610 HC’s right here

#across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie #Spiderman #Hobie x reader #Hobie Brown x reader #atsv

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ellecdc · 8 months

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Come Back, Be Here (part 7)

p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Sirius Black x fem!reader - First Wizarding War Order of the Phoenix - 4.5K

CW: mentions of past abuse/torture, amnesia, healing/blood and injury, Bellatrix's cursed knife, angst, hurt/comfort, use of Y/N, character death

Synopsis: After sacrificing yourself to save your friend and Order partner James months before, you're found on the brink of death. It's now October 31st, and the Order has a plan.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, a cousin, a wife, a new mother, a Malfoy, and a Black. She was a proud pureblood, a cunning Slytherin, a noble woman, a powerful witch, and exceedingly loyal.

It was this last trait that seemed to be causing her the most problems, however.

Loyalty.

It was her loyalty that caused her to bite her tongue and smile when her husband announced that he had joined the ranks of the Dark Lord, who promised to bring the purebloods glory and to protect them from the likes of muggles and mudblood’s who were threatening their way of life. It was because of her loyalty that when her sister asked her to hide something of grave importance to the Dark Lord, even though the object exuded Darkness and Evil, she hid it in the rafters of their attic.

And it was because of her loyalty that when her baby cousin showed up at Malfoy Manor covered in blood, ash, and rubble with a lifeless body hanging limp in his arms begging for her help that she responded with, ‘bring her to the cellar’.

Narcissa needn’t wonder how she got here; she knew all too well. She was loyal, and she protected her own.

When exactly her disowned blood-traitor Gryffindor cousin’s muggle-born partner became one of her own, Narcissa wasn’t sure.

(The day you ‘died’)

“What have you done!?” Narcissa gritted through her teeth as she pulled the clothing off of the nearly-dead-witch’s body.

“’Cissa, please, I couldn’t leave her there-”

“Why not!?”

“She’s – she’s Sirius’, she’s...” Regulus took a steadying breath. “She’s Sirius’, Narcissa.”

“For crying out loud.” Narcissa growled. She wanted to argue, she wanted to scream and curse and tell him to dump this witch back where he’d found her. But she knew...

She knew she would have likely done the same.

When her son Draco was born, Narcissa had never felt so alone; her mother was long passed, her father was distant and cold, Bellatrix was insane, and she had long ago lost her favourite sister.

She thought at that moment of Andromeda and her husband and daughter.

If this had been Ted Tonks lying nearly dead on a hastily conjured drafting table, or their daughter Nymphadora...

Narcissa knew; her dog-like loyalty and her dragon-like possessiveness knew no bounds.

So, she pulled on all the blasted magic she could think of – light, dark, and ancient. Types of Oriental, coastal, Scandinavian and Aboriginal magic; anything and everything she could possibly think of to bring this witch back from the brink of death.

Spending her life as a dedicated pureblood meant spending a lot of time hiding away in libraries – no one could scold you for it, and you could hide away from whatever nonsense they were currently shoving down your throat. She thanked the deities for all of that time spent researching now.

Thoroughly exhausted and covered in another person’s blood, Narcissa stepped back as the witch finally took a breath on her own.

“Thank you, Narcissa.”

“Do not go thanking me yet, cousin.” Narcissa huffed. “What exactly is it you plan to do with her?”

Regulus stared dumbly at her. “Uhm...well, return her?”

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Right, and then the Dark Lord suspects a traitor amongst his followers and kills us all for the act of disloyalty. Really cousin, did you hit your head in this battle or something?”

“Well, what do you suggest I do then, Narcissa, since you are clearly so much smarter than I?” He questioned hotly.

“This is not my mess, Regulus. You should have left her there to die.”

“Why?”

“What do you mean, why?” Narcissa asked incredulously.

“Why should she have to die? Hm? Because she was born into the wrong family? Does that make her evil? Fate does not make us evil, Narcissa; choices do. I did not choose to live as a pureblood, I was only born into this life. But I chose to follow the Dark Lord, and I chose to join this war. I choose to aim my wand at people who raise their wands in defense whilst I wield mine in hope for power and glory. So why her? Why should she die while I go home to eat from my silver spoon that was promised to me at birth?”

Narcissa balked at her cousin. “Regulus, what - what are you saying?”

But Regulus did not have a chance to respond before Lucius Malfoy, Severus Snape and Barty Crouch Junior followed a small house-elf down the stairs into the cellar.

“My, my, don’t tell me you’ve plundered some booty for us, dear Reggie!” Barty exclaimed excitedly.

“What, pray tell, is the meaning of this?” Snape asked as he eyed Regulus and Narcissa skeptically.

“We were wondering where everyone got to – oh.” Mulciber added as he stepped down into the cellar with Goyle trailing behind him.

“I found her at the set-up.” Regulus said plainly after throwing up a hasty occlusion behind his eyes.

“I see. And why exactly is she here.” Snape asked again.

“Did you...heal her?” Lucius guffawed.

“Why waste your energy on a pathetic mudblood?” Mulciber asked.

Narcissa stayed quiet and allowed Regulus to swim his way out of this on his own. She would not risk her own life protecting his mistake.

But what made it a mistake?

Narcissa had never once questioned the pureblood rhetoric that her parents entrenched in her. Not when she first stepped foot into Hogwarts. Not when she watched her classmates get bullied and harassed for their muddy blood. Not when it was announced she would be wed to her own cousin upon graduating from Hogwarts when she was only twelve years old, and not even when she was again announced to be wed to Lucius Malfoy instead at thirteen, after said cousin was sorted into the wrong house – bringing disgrace to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black; and not even when her older sister defected from the family by falling in love with a filthy mudblood.

She looked at Regulus then. As the baby of the family, Regulus had seen all of this. He had witnessed the announcement of his big brother’s betrothal to his first cousin when Sirius was only ten years old. He saw the fallout and witnessed Sirius be ignored, embarrassed, and humiliated that first summer home after being sorted into the wrong house. He watched Sirius get tortured, brutalized, and starved every summer after that until he left home for good. He watched Andromeda be chastised and forced to choose between her family and her heart for falling in love with the wrong person. He watched Bellatrix descend into madness as she became more and more involved with Dark Magic.

Regulus, the baby of the family, had witnessed all of this.

Narcissa thought of her own baby then, upstairs being looked after by a house-elf whilst she was downstairs with her husband and his house guests while they argued over who had more of a right to this unconscious witch’s body than the others.

Did Regulus make a mistake?

Did she?

“Hmph, well, we’ll see how long this lasts.” Mulciber spat at Regulus before the five newcomers moved back upstairs leaving Narcissa alone with Regulus and the witch.

Narcissa watched as Regulus used Legillimency to peer inside the witch’s mind before he spoke. “You’re awake.”

The only response Regulus got was the tightening of the witch’s eyes.

“Squeezing your eyes shut will not change the fact that I know you are awake.” He commented with an eyeroll.

Narcissa watched as Regulus continued to monitor the witch.

“Yes, I am talking to you.” Regulus responded verbally.

A beat of silence.

“Very elegant.” He muttered.

“Indeed, you are.” He quipped again.

Narcissa watched as you peeled your eyes open and blinked against the light above you; she heard your neck crack loudly as you turned your head towards Regulus before your face fell.

“You can’t be serious?” You rasped disbelievingly.

“Close, but no.” Regulus smirked as he stood and moved toward the table you were lying on. “The name is Regulus. Regulus Arcturus Black.”

Narcissa watched as a look of panic crossed your features as you took in Regulus.

“I don’t suppose you happen to know occlumency, do you?”

You shook your head in response.

“Shame. Well, for your sake, I hope you are a quick learner.” Regulus said before he stupefied you.

“This just got an awful lot more complicated, Regulus.” Narcissa commented quietly.

“I know.” Regulus sighed before he turned to his cousin. “Narcissa, please, will you help me?”

Narcissa looked between her cousin – the only relative she really had left – and the unconscious witch beside him. Suddenly, the witch wasn’t just a nearly dead burden – she was a chance. An opportunity for more. An opportunity to do better. An opportunity to have better.

“I do not want this life for my son.” Narcissa admitted quietly.

“What?”

“I do not want Draco growing up worried about who he will be betrothed to before we even send him off to Hogwarts. I do not want him watching children be jinxed or hexed for being born to the wrong family – or worse – be the child jinxing or hexing them. I do not want to watch him slowly lose every single person that ever meant anything to him because they could not adhere to the same drivel. I do not want this life for him.” She took a deep breath.

“I want more for him, Regulus. I want better.”

Regulus searched Narcissa’s face for a few moments before nodding.

“Let’s do better, then.”

October 31st

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” You muttered as you continued to pace a hole through Narcissa’s vintage Persian rug. Regulus fought the urge to groan and repeated the plan that Dumbledore had discussed with him for a third time.

“Remus Lupin has been made secret keeper of the currently vacant cottage in Godric’s Hollow. He, as Peter Pettigrew, will meet the Dark Lord in the town square of Godric’s Hollow at eight o’clock tonight. He will then escort the Dark Lord to Potter’s cottage where I will be in the form of James Potter and Narcissa in the form of Lily Potter. Apparently, to no one’s surprise, Sirius has demanded he be there – so Sirius will be there in his animagus form as will Professor McGonagall, and Dumbledore will be hidden under Potter’s invisibility cloak. Dumbledore has the sword of Gryffindor, and Narcissa was able to purchase Basilisk venom from Borgin & Burkes on Knockturn Alley, which means the Order will be able to slay Nagini without resorting to unforgiveables. I, however, will have no qualms firing an avada at the Dark Lord, so we will see how the rest plays out. Either way, he will die.” Regulus spouted in monotone.

You seemed to consider this as you continued pacing. “And I...”

“And you are staying here.” He said with finality.

“Why?” You asked petulantly. Regulus did not find it at all endearing.

“Because you have to look after Draco.” Narcissa offered.

You softened at the mention of the boy but seemed unconvinced. “You have a manor full of house-elves; I’m sure Dobby wouldn’t mind-”

“It has to be you, Y/N.” Narcissa said. “It needs to be someone who will not be swayed, regardless of who shows up and starts barking orders.”

Your head fell back in resignation as you looked at the ceiling.

“Okay?” Regulus asked quietly.

“Okay.” You admitted in defeat, bringing your gaze back to him.

Regulus offered you as kind a smile as the youngest Black and a chronic Slytherin could manage. “Your nose is bleeding again.”

“God damnit.” You muttered as you conjured a tissue into your hand and held it to your nose. More and more of your memories were flooding back in, and - just as the Healer had suggested - it was extremely painful. Not only were you now privy to migraines, nose bleeds, and the occasional seizure; you had an overwhelming sense of anxiety laying its damned wet blanket over you. You were somewhat annoyed that your memories appeared to be attacking you now when you would have benefitted from not remembering all of the reasons why this plan had to go just right.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” You muttered miserably.

“Why did it have to be Halloween?” James whined. “I love Halloween.”

Lily patted her husband’s shoulder in sympathy, though neither her face nor her tone held any warmth. “You can love Halloween next year.”

James and Lily stood in the doorway of 12 Grimmauld place with Harry strapped to James’ chest. Sirius triple checked their bags before shrinking them down and putting them into a backpack and placing it onto Lily’s shoulders.

“Okay, explain the plan to me one more time.” He ordered the Potter’s.

Lily and James shared a quick glance before the former rolled her eyes.

“We’re heading to an undisclosed location. We are to set up protection wards the second we get there, and we are not to leave until Sirius’ patronus reaches us. If, in the event that we do not receive a patronus from Sirius or Moony in the next two days, we are to assume that the plan has failed. In that case, we are to begin heading west via muggle transportation and make our way to Ireland before boarding a flight to Canada where we are to remain for the rest of our lives.” She relayed to him in monotone.

Sirius beamed at her and kissed her cheek. “Right-o, Red! But, not to worry, you’ll be hearing from my patronus in no time.”

Remus watched with a small smile from the staircase. He knew Sirius was trying to stay positive mostly for himself; he’s been in such a state since you were taken, and he was running on fumes waiting with bated breath for this to be over so you could return home - return to him. He had so many questions about so many things; questions for you, questions for Regulus, questions for Dumbledore. Remus watched his friend become manic, almost as if Sirius was the one expecting the full moon at the beginning of next week. The friends tried to stay patient with him, but they were all looking forward to this being over.

“It’s me and my family they’re after, I should be here to end this.” James muttered.

“And you’re our family, Prongs. So, we’re here to end this.” Sirius responded.

“He didn’t just threaten you and Lily and Haz, he threatened all of us.” Remus added.

“I owe her my life, guys. I owe it to Vix to see this through.” He responded, shifting his gaze between his two friends.

Sirius’ eyes welled at the thought before he quickly shoved his feelings back down into his stomach – he’d deal with those later; for now, he had a megalomaniac to kill.

“You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to her, Prongs.” He offered with as much a smile as he could muster.

James gave his friend a sad smile of his own before enveloping him in a bone crushing hug.

“I’ll see you soon, Pads.”

“Once the mischief is managed.” Sirius answered.

As Lily, James and Harry left Grimmauld place and apparated to location unknown, Remus and Sirius exchanged a look.

“Ready to finish this?” Sirius asked Remus.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything in my life.”

The clock tower in Godric’s Hollow’s town square rang signifying eight o’clock. Remus tried rubbing his clammy hands against his cloak, not wanting his hands to be slick when it came time to brandish his wand. Thankfully, with the full moon this close, and it (by the grace of every god) seeming to be a ‘manic moon’, Remus was at his strongest, and he would not be letting that go to waste.

The rancid smell of dark magic permeated Remus’ senses signifying the arrival of Voldemort and his last horcrux.

“My dear boy,” Voldemort sang out, “are you ready to face victory in the name of your Lord.”

“Absolutely, my Lord, it is my honour to help you see this through.” He responded verbatim to what Dumbledore coached him on.

“Lead the way.”

So, Remus did.

In what felt like a death march, Remus (as Peter Pettigrew), a twelve-foot snake and melted-wax figure looking Tom Riddle made their way to the Potter’s cottage in Godric’s Hollow. Remus listened to the sound of his heartbeat and Nagini’s skin sliding along the gravel lane as he unlatched the hook of the fence and made his way up to the door.

He looked behind him to see Voldemort smiling victoriously at the house as it materialized in front of him. Remus turned back to the red painted door and knocked three times, paused, knocked once, paused, knocked twice more.

“Come in!” The sound of Lily’s voice filtered through the wood of the door and Remus heaved a breath before opening it in front of him.

“Hey Pete!” James greeted as Remus stepped inside. “We just put the kid to bed, glad you could come by.”

Remus watched as James turned his back to the door and continued toward the kitchen whilst Voldemort and Nagini let themselves in. With a quick flick of Remus’ wand, the door shut and locked behind them. No way out now, fucker.

“Come on in, Peter! I’m just making something to drink, would you like one?” Lily called from somewhere in the house as the trio continued in, watching as a cat wandered its way towards the kitchen seemingly unawares of the company behind it.

As they passed a hallway leading to a half-bath, Padfoot began to bark.

“Oh, come now Pads, it’s just Peter! You know him.” James said as he came back out into the hallway where he saw his good friend Peter in the company of Nagini and Voldemort.

Voldemort whispered something in parseltongue and in response, Nagini poised to lunge.

When the snakes body elongated and her neck stretched as she launched to sink her fangs into James, Sirius had turned back into his regular form, and with the sword of Gryffindor swung at the snake, severing its head from the rest of its body; the snake’s body and its head fell to the ground with a sickening wet thud.

“No!” Voldemort cried before Dumbledore ripped the invisibility cloak from his form and Lily exited the kitchen. Suddenly, the forms of Lily, James and Peter and the actual Dumbledore, McGonagall and Sirius stood with their wands aimed at Voldemort.

“What have you done?” Voldemort seethed at Remus. Remus smirked in response.

“I won.” He said simply.

Voldemort growled as he pulled his wand from his cloak, blocking an expelliarmus from Dumbledore and a bombarda from Sirius.

“Incarcerous!” McGonagall shouted and Voldemort was bound by invisible restraints.

Dumbledore stupefied the flailing Tom Riddle and the six exchanged glances.

“Did...did we do it? Did we just...stop Voldemort?” Sirius whispered.

“It feels sort of anti-climactic, does it not?” Lily asked before she cast a quick finite over herself, revealing Narcissa Black. Remus opted to follow suit and shed the skin of his rat of a friend.

“Narcissa?!” Sirius balked, earning him a smirk.

“Hello, cousin.”

“But, why? How?” he asked.

James followed suit and cast a finite, melting away the enchantment and leaving behind the form of Regulus Black, causing Sirius to choke back tears.

“Reggie...” he whispered reverently.

“Sirius.” Regulus responded with a curt nod, seemingly unable to meet his brothers’ eyes.

A sob tore its way through Sirius as he lunged himself at Regulus and embraced his little brother. “I can’t believe you’re alive.”

“Disappointed?” Regulus asked, seemingly unable to figure out what to do with his own arms which were pinned under Sirius’ grasp.

“No, not in the slightest.” Sirius answered honestly as he pulled himself back from his brother only to bring his hands up to clasp either side of his brother’s face and scrutinize him. “You’re really okay?”

Regulus’ brows scrunched together at his brother’s words. “Could be worse.” Regulus responded in a whisper.

“Why don’t we catch up later, once we have everyone together again?” Narcissa offered with a soft smile. This seemed to snap Sirius into action.

“Yes! Okay, yes. Let’s go get Y/N and then we can send the Potter’s a patronus!” He exclaimed as if were a child being told they were heading to the mall to meet Santa.

Remus chuckled and even Regulus seemed to smirk at his brother.

“You go, Minerva and I will escort Mr. Riddle here to the Ministry.” Dumbledore said with a wink at his four former students. “Thank you all, for your bravery and cunningness today.”

The four offered Dumbledore varying levels of smiles: Remus a wide one, Narcissa a polite one, Regulus’ looked more like a grimace and Sirius’ mouth stayed downturned as they watched the headmaster and deputy headmistress leave with Voldemort in tow.

“Let’s get the band back together.” Remus announced, and Narcissa held out a portkey for Remus and Sirius to use to travel to Malfoy Manor.

“See you there.” Narcissa said as she and Regulus spun and apparated to return to you.

Regulus and Narcissa were just heading toward the vine covered gate when Remus and Sirius fell unceremoniously from the sky.

“Fuck, I hate portkey’s” Sirius commented as he stood with a grimace and wiped grass stains off his jacket.

“Don’t be so dramatic.” Narcissa commented from her place as the two men joined her.

“That’s like asking a fish not to swim, dear Cissy.” Sirius responded with a smirk.

Narcissa gave him a fond eyeroll before leading the way to the hidden library.

“PUT THE BOY DOWN!” The shrill voice of Bellatrix could be heard. The sound caused each of their throats to tighten as they all took off in a run towards the library.

“Get away from us!” Sirius heard you shout back.

As the four of them rounded the corner, Sirius saw you standing with a crying Draco Malfoy in your one arm as you bounced him consolingly while your wand was in the other aimed at Bellatrix in front of you. Behind Bellatrix stood Barty Crouch Junior and Mulciber.

“Bella!” Narcissa called causing the witch to turn her onyx gaze on her for a second, though her wand never faltered in its aim at you.

“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE, NARCISSA?!” She screeched.

“Bellatrix, get away from my son this instant.” Narcissa barked. Remus took this opportunity to try to move closer to you and Draco, which earned a purple spell being shot at him from Junior’s wand.

Suddenly emersed in some kind of gothic-style Western standoff, every witch and wizard in the library had their wands pointed at someone and someone’s wand pointed at them. One errant sneeze and someone would avada or be avada’d.

“Bella, you’re frightening Draco.” Narcissa tried quietly.

“He’s frightened, Cissa, because you’ve left him alone with the likes of a FILTHY MUDBLOOD.”

“It’s over, Bellatrix.” Sirius shouted. “Voldemort has been captured, he’s on his way to Azkaban as we speak.”

Bellatrix’s already rage filled face contorted in pure outrage. As the Death Eaters were distracted by the news of their leaders down fall, Regulus and Remus began duelling with Mulciber and Junior. Narcissa and Sirius both shot curses and hexes at Bellatrix at the same time, but she quickly defected.

“You, you-you FILTHY BLOOD TRAITOR. You’ve betrayed your kind and defied OUR LORD, YOU INSOLENT-” As Bellatrix continued to rage, you began to slowly side-step your way over to Narcissa and Sirius while cooing at Draco. Sirius kept his gaze locked on you as you kept yours on Bellatrix, and both of your wands stayed on their mark. Remus had Mulciber in a muggle choke hold looking far too pleased with himself as Regulus cast an expeliarmus at Junior.

“YOU SHOULD BE DEAD! I KNEW BETTER THAN TO LET THOSE STUPID, STUPID MEN USE YOU AS THEIR PLAYTHING.” Bellatrix seethed at you, now standing directly beside Sirius, keeping the arm holding Draco just behind him. “YOU WEREN’T EVEN GOOD ENOUGH FOR A WHORE!”

At this, Sirius shot a curse at her which she deflected and began rallying more off. Bellatrix brought her other hand up to her hair and then swung her hand forward. Flying towards Sirius, you and Draco was Bellatrix’s cursed blade.

Narcissa took but half a step to her right, placing herself directly in front of you as she cast an avada kadavra at her sister. Bellatrix’s eyes rolled back as she fell to the ground with a thud and the room became deathly quiet save Draco’s sniffles.

“Oh my gods.” Sirius breathed.

Remus and Regulus were readying their captives for the Auror department as Sirius turned to face his cousin, only to find her holding her chest as blood seeped through her robes and fingers.

Narcissa slowly began sinking to the ground as you gasped and held Draco’s head to your shoulder to shield his view.

“Cissa, no!” Sirius cried as he helped lower his cousin onto the rug. Narcissa took some gasping breaths as she looked at Sirius and you, and then at her son.

“Y/N.” Narcissa called weakly.

“I’m here, Narcissa.” You offered through a sob.

“Take care of my son. Take care of Draco, please.” She begged you.

She turned her gaze to Sirius. “I want better for him. I don’t-I don’t want...” She trailed off as she choked, blood appearing in the corners of her mouth. “I don’t want him to be raised with so much hate. I want – I want him to only know love.”

She looked back to you as you bounced her son back and forth. “Make sure he knows love for me?”

You nodded emphatically as tears trailed down your face. “I promise to do good by you; both of you. He will always be safe with us, Narcissa.”

“And loved.” Sirius added.

Narcissa smiled at the two of you. “Thank you.” She said as she closed her eyes and let out a shuddering breath.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was many things. She was a daughter, a sister, and a cousin. She was a wife, and new mother. She was a Slytherin, a noble woman, and a powerful witch.

Narcissa Black Malfoy was extremely loyal. And it was this last trait that cost Narcissa her life.

Continue to the finale here.

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junipers-archive · 1 year

Text

Paper Rings

Word count: 1.1k

Includes: tiny itty bit of angst to fluff, fluff, fluff, Spencer has been acting distant so you try to start up a conversation, ultimately leading to his confession about wanting to marry you but never finding the right moment

You were worried. More than usual worried, worried. Spencer had been acting odd lately, and for the past few weeks you had been trying your best to ignore it.

It was hard though, he had been distant, almost neglectful, his once cheerful and atentative attitude when listening to your day or the new book you'd been reading gone and replaced by a cool indifrence.

You were near to him now, sitting on the sunflower yellow sofa in your apartment, reading different books. But instead of being next to you he was on the other side of the couch.

In an attempt to start up a conversation you mentioned one of your fresher pieces of news,

"Hey Spence", He didn't even look up, just hummed.

You scooted closer, "Uh- I- Well you know my cousin? Marion, the one who got engaged a few months back?"

"yea" his eyes shifted up quickly and then right back down to his book.

"Well they finally set a date! I got my invite in the mail yesterday morning, it's in Hawaii!!"

"Oh, really?" he wasn't even glancing up now to seem interested.

Nevertheless, you tried one last time with enthusiasm, hoping he'd be kind enough to take pity and reciprocate even a fraction of it.

"So whadaya say handsome, be my plus one?"

"mhm." mhm. That's what your relationship had dwindled down to?

You shook your head, tears pricking your eyes as you got up from the sofa, trying really hard not to cry. But there was only so much you could take, was he seeing someone else? What had you done to make him so upset?

But that was the thing he wasn't even yelling at you! You'd become an irrelevant part of his life without even realizing it.

By this time you were grabbing your things in a scramble, trying to get out, get out of the apartmentget, get out of his life if thats what he really wanted. When it occurred to you that he was still obsorbed in that stupid book of his.

And you had to know, You just had to.

"Did I do something?! What-Just tell me what I did Spencer please!"

You were standing before him now, waving your arms around manically.

"Y-Y/n, whats wrong?"

"I don't know Spencer you tell me! I mean first I thought it was a case you were on that had put you off, or maybe that we'd been apart for too long but weeks went by! Its been weeks and you still won't even look me in the eye when we're talking!" You fail in your previous attempts to keep the tears at bay as droplets fall down your flushed cheeks.

He was stunned but eventually he found his words, "I-I- that wasn't my intention, I- just- I-"

You were hysterical at this point, he couldn't even tell you?

"Look Spencer. If you wanna break up, just say it already!"

You were one second away from storming out when he spoke up again, catching you by the wrist and leading you down the hall to the bedroom quickly.

"Look I'm really, really sorry Y/n its just that- well it'd be easier if I just showed you."

You came to sit on the bed, arms crossed over your chest as if armor protecting you from being hurt.

He was searching through the back of the closet you shared, finally pulling out a shoe box. He sat down next to you, opening the box, where rested an old sweater of his that had been worn thin and a black velvet box sitting within.

He handed the small compartment over to you explaining frantically,

"I've wanted to marry you for a long time now, hell Y/n I wanted to marry you since the moment I met you. But I kept chickening out and for the past few weeks I've taken you to our spots to pop the question but I-I- nothing was ever good enough...I couldn't find the perfect moment."

he looked straight in your eyes now, which were watery, overwhelmed by the idea he wanted to marry you just as much as you wanted to marry him. "You deserve the perfect moment. And not being able to provide that to you, it tore me apart, so...I became distant, praying I was good enough but also hoping you's find someone better..."

"I-I understand completely that this isn't the time or place but when I saw that you were crying- I just I needed you to know that the reason I was being so distant wasn't because I wanted to break up, far from it! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!"

You opened the box now, silently falling in love even more as you gazed down at the your dream ring.

Finally lifting your gaze to the boy in front of you and kissing him deeply, finding your voice again as you pulled back grinning,

"You're an idiotic-genius, you know that?"

He only grinned back, "Yea, yea I'm fairly aware."

You slipped on the ring, it was perfect fit.

"Well...Are you gonna ask me?"

He shook his head, "You're gonna have to wait till i find our perfect moment."

You grumbled like a digruntled child, leaping back on the bed and guarding your ring finger as he tried to take it back. Ultimately he ended up on top of you, both of you play wrestling like children.

"Y/n. Give. It. Back."

"NO its my ring now! You can't take it back! You practically already proposed!"

"You said yourself, I technically haven't asked!"

"Well why don't I keep it for now, just until you're ready?" You were wearing a shit-eating grin as you looked up at him, he had pinned you down with his hands on your wrists.

"No way. What Would I propose with then?"

You craned your neck to kiss him then, albeit akwardly. "I'd marry you with paper rings Dr. Reid."

He had gotten admittedly lost in your sweet words, which you used as your opprutunity to slide out from under him, once more flashing you giant grin before running out of the room.

"Y/N!"

The afternoon was lost to him chasing you around the apartment as you chanted, "Paper rings dr. Reid! Paper rings!"

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a-twistedheartslonging · 5 months

Text

Nonhuman AU Jack.

Wolf beastmen are naturally bigger than their cousin, the dog beastmen.

Has black claws.

His fur is so freaking fluffy and he has so much of it. Arms, legs chest, underarms, floof happy trail, above his tail. It's perfect for shoving your face in. Be careful not to get it in your mouth.

Said fur is something he has a lot of and it’s thick. As a result, he has some problems with overheating, more so in the summer. Till his winter coat shades and… it's a lot and gets everywhere. It's around that time he’ll need to be taken outside a few times and given a good brushing. That floof will go everywhere and the local bird will wait nearby to take that floof going around for their nests. It's good quality nesting stuff and the birds want it.

A wolf pup’s eyes are blue at birth. Their eyes turn yellow by the time they are eight months old. This was also the case for Jack when he was a baby.

Is fully capable of crunching bones with his jaw and there's a local butcher back home that he and his family like to get those along with meat.

Like a regular wolf, Jack has a light-reflecting layer on his eyes, also known as tapetum lucidum and it makes his eyes glow in the dark and he also has good night vision.

I found out ravens often follow wolves to grab leftovers from the hunt—and to tease the wolves. They play with the wolves by diving at them and then speeding away or pecking their tails to try to get the wolves to chase them. Imagine Crowley liking to bother Jack...until Owl Rook shows up cuz owls also have some beef with corvids.

“Wolves howl to contact separated members of their group, to rally the group before hunting, or to warn rival wolf packs to keep away. Lone wolves will howl to attract mates or just because they are alone.” Kinda funny if certain beasties like him howl when they want to hang with their homies. You end up hearing random howling during a normal school day. Also, him howling because he's trying to attract his mate (you) and just looking at you expectedly after.

youtube

He tries to seem cold and distant at first but that doesn't last too long, still a tsundere about things though. The others keep pointing out how he helps you out more than he does his other friends. Well, obviously it's because the human needs more help things being weak and all…totally no other reasons.

You know those lines about how he messed up making that flower crown his sister wanted and how she ended up crying? And then he smooshed all those macaroons during the cooking thing? Yeah, he’s cononly bad with delicate things and even more so with those claws in the nonhuman au, he asks for your help with delicate things and offers to help you with other things in return. Lifting heavy things, reaching, scaring off other guys. Though he already does all that without even being asked. He also likes comparing your hands but gets annoyed at you calling his paw pads toe beans. He has mostly human hands, he just has the patting on his fingertips along with the pad on his palm...and he has claws....and fur on the top part of his hand....yeah mostly human hands.....

One time he got a tail sprang because being around you makes his tail go nuts. The others teased the hell out of him for it.

Wants you two to do things together and convinced you to try going for runs with him, unfortunately, you couldn't keep up with his big wolfie self. But when you were about to mention it he suddenly picked you up and carried you for the rest of the run saying something about adding this to his routine to make him stronger. It does become a part of his morning running routine.

A wolf pack may contain just two or three animals, or it may be 10 times as large. Once you guys become friends he decides the two of you are your own little pack and expects you to know that.

The two of you are around each other…a lot and not just because you guys share classes. However, he does insist on sitting next to you for each class. Wolves are pack animals after all. Always staying close. Walking you back to your dorm, making sure you have lunch together, and even taking food from his plate to add onto yours, kinda hovers around you, and wants you to either join his club or hang out where it's happening.

I hope you're prepared for wolf kisses once you're together. Now regular wolves do it for a few reasons. To show affection, say hello, to show respect, to see if you are sick, to see if you've eaten anything good. Wolfs with human handlers will even do it to them and they have to keep their lips shut really tied or else they’ll get sloppily frenched. Jack is gonna have some deep wet kisses, and straight up lick your teeth. And your face…and your neck…and…

He’s totally going to try grooming you the wolf way and get growly if you push his face away.

You will be scented often. When he sees you in the morning, before you leave, after a shower, after he smells someone else on you.

Keep a lint roller handy cuz of this guy.

When you are alone he’s a lot more affectionate and especially loves getting scritches on his ears, chest, and above his tail. You're the only person he will let rub his tummy in his full wolf form. You might even catch him making wolfie noises when you find a good spot to scratch.

He really likes it when you help him with his grooming, and with his kind of fur, he needs it often.

With wolf courting he will do with you what males do with females regardless if you're a guy, gal, or nonbinary pal.

With regular wolfs it usually involves the male following the female around and the female allowing him to approach her. They may vocalize, scent mark, and chase each other around. They may also touch noses, lick muzzles, mouth each other, bump bodies, groom, and nibble coats, the male may bow to the female, toss and tilt his head, and walk and sleep close together.

So, you not pushing him away is something he’ll take as you be cool with it. Tests things out with some nuzzles and a gentle nip or two. Some (cute) wolf noises, help you with your grooming, be it straightening out your clothes or even giving a lick. Will bump noses with you and gently bump your body with his. Will walk with you any chance you get and will want to have sleepovers more often.

Talk of wolf mating habits and Jack's junk below.

For wolfs mating season can be anywhere from January to April with the female having only five to seven days of estrus. During this time, the pair may move out of the pack temporarily to prevent interruption from other pack members. Since your human “mating season” is pretty much any time you ovulate if you can but really the whole thing that gets male animals when it comes to seasons is that they smell that their mate is excited/fertile, so anytime he smells you being aroused it's going to have him react. So, if he knows you're cool, with it he’s to want to get you away from everyone and take care of you.

However, with Jack, he will likely want to hold off on sex and want to date for a long while, build trust, and make sure you are right for each other. He takes dating and relationships very seriously. He only wants to have one mate for his whole life after all. Anyways, once he does deem himself ready and knows that you are too he’ll want to work his way up to full-on sex starting with oral, using hands, and whatnot.

He really likes giving oral, especially because of the taste and scent. Male wolves will smell the genital region to determine readiness to mate, tongue flicking in and out, and testing the air for traces of sex hormones and only stop if their mate growls and snaps their jaws at them.

A kind of funny/cute thing wolves do right before mating is act happy by nuzzling and whipping tails in each other's faces. Just all happy about mating I guess. I mean, Jack probably has his tail going already when you're making out or having actual sex. Ask him if he wants a blowjob then his face is all serious but flushed and his tail is going back and forth. Pretty darn cute I must say.

Yes, his dick is big, and yes, he has a knot. You'll be stuck together for about half an hour before it deflates, and he can pull out.

Kinda gross but he likes to clean your hole out with his tongue after mating.

#twst #twst x reader #smut #in the last half #twisted wonderland #nonhuman au #jack howl #jack/reader #twst jack #twisted wonderland jack #Youtube

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belovedmusings · 11 months

Text

Lay me down tonight.

Explicit Smut 18+ 🚫Minors DNI🚫

You were loyal to your boyfriend, Megumi, before you met his estranged father at the yearly family get-together. The second you met Toji, however, the righteous and innocent person you were died, and in their place, an insatiable monster was born. Toji ruined you, and even now, you keep allowing him to ruin you, all behind Megumi’s back.

Relevant tags: shameless smut, infidelity, cheating, Toji is rough and dominant, Megumi is clueless, reader are a good liar, reader is a little depraved, everyone addresses you without the usage of “y/n” for better immersion, Megumi is aged up so that you’re both of age, ‘cause we are not gonna have Toji catchin’ a case up in here, that said, age gap between reader & Toji, minimal gendered language though reader is AFAB, Toji is a horrible father

Recommended songs while reading: older (Isabel LaRosa), Unholy (Hey Violet), Fucked My Way Up To The Top (Lana Del Rey)

A/N: infidelity is NOT the answer but this is a lil smut just for funsies so enjoy!

Read below the cut:

You remember exactly how it had first happened. It was a year ago.

You were meeting tons of Megumi’s family members at once, flying through greetings to cousins and aunts and uncles and distant cousins and great-grandparents—no one stood out to you until he showed up.

The large hotel banquet room the Zenin family had rented out sort of got quiet as he walked in. Your eyes caught on him, and after he scanned the room, unbothered by the staring, his eyes zeroed in on you and Megumi.

He’d tilted his head to the side in interest and then made his way towards the two of you. You heard mumbles and whispers about him.

“He wasn’t invited,” Megumi muttered under his breath in annoyance.

“Who is that?” You whispered back.

“He’s…well, I wouldn’t call him—”

“What are we whispering about?” The burly man said loudly, now in front of you. He looked amused and completely shameless. Now that you had seen him up close, he looked sort of familiar.

“I was just wondering who you were,” you told him, looking around. The family was watching with various degrees of surprise and disdain. The man laughed haughtily.

“Oh, I see. Megumi didn’t tell you who I was?” He asked with a salacious grin. “He didn’t tell me who you are, either. You’re holding out on us both, Megumi.”

Your boyfriend huffed beside you. “That man is technically my father.”

Your lips parted in recognition. That made sense. You’d heard a little bit about him, enough to know he’s a dead-beat and that Megumi never speaks to him nor gets along with him. The family doesn’t like him as a whole.

“What are you doing here?” Asked Megumi with narrowed eyes.

“Relax,” the man chuckled, leaning against a chair. “I just came to see my dear family.”

“You weren’t invited.”

The man just held his wolfish grin on his face. “I don’t care.”

His steel gray eyes found yours, and he raised a brow. “Now, I still don’t know who you are.”

You introduced yourself, along with your relationship to Megumi, and the man hummed. “Well, it looks like Megumi has good taste. The name’s Toji. It’s very nice to meet you.”

He gave you an unconcealed appraisal and it made you feel hot. Megumi scowled.

“Don’t overstep a boundary,” he spit at his father, arm winding around your waist in attempt to intimidate.

The longer you looked at Toji, the more you realized how hot he was. He seemed so buff his muscles were practically bursting through the black t-shirt he had on. He was tall too. So tall. And his dark hair fell in layered strands around his ears and chin—his face was handsome as hell, too. You could tell where Megumi got his looks from. He smirked at you with all of the confidence in the world. He was like a more mature, more experienced version of your boyfriend.

He was really attractive.

“‘Course not,” Toji grinned, rolling his eyes. He’s amused. “I just wanted to greet my son. I’ll get out of your hair now.”

“Please do.”

Please don’t, you thought, but he turned on his heel and walked towards some other family members, already starting to talk at them instead.

Megumi sighed heavily. “Damn bastard. I had hoped you never had the displeasure of meeting him.”

The pleasure is all mine, you truthfully thought to yourself.

You felt a bad desire growing inside of you, and it wasn’t long before what you wanted came to fruition.

You and Megumi had had to travel to get to the family reunion. As such, you were staying in the hotel they booked the venue in for one night before you went back home.

You were restless, and Megumi was sound asleep in bed. You’d never been to this area, so you figured you’d walk around the hotel, maybe get some melatonin from the convenience shop on the first level to help you sleep. Truthfully, you hadn’t stopped thinking about Toji and how hot he was. You wondered where he went. You and Megumi had left the reunion a little early because he was tired, and you hadn’t seen him again after your brief meeting.

You slipped on some sweatpants and a crewneck before putting your slides on and leaving a note for Megumi in case he woke up.

‘Went to get melatonin and maybe a snack. Be back soon.’

With that, you slipped out of the hotel room and walked down the hallway. It was the middle of the night, so you kept quiet, padding towards the elevator. You pressed the button to go down, and after a few moments, the doors slid open.

Your heart jumped into your throat.

Toji.

A grin instantly spread across his face. “Hey. Goin' somewhere?”

Your blood pounded through your veins as you entered the elevator. “Uh…I can’t sleep.”

“You can't?” He asked, putting a hand on his hip. Bluntly, he replied, “I can fix that.”

Your mouth went dry.

You couldn’t remember exactly what happened next, but soon the two of you were stumbling into his hotel room a floor below yours, the door slamming and locking behind you as Toji took you into a bruising kiss. Your arms were wrapped around his neck the second he lifted you into his arms like a weightless pillow, tossing you down onto the hotel bed in the center of the room.

He kissed you again and it was like he was trying to eat you whole. The things he would murmur to you in between lip locks had your head spinning with guilty pleasure.

“Megumi don’t know how to treat you right.”

“I’ll bet he ain’t fuckin’ you properly.”

“I’ll show you how a real man does it.”

Each kiss, each word, each touch drew you closer to insanity. You both had your clothes off faster than you could comprehend, and Toji was spitting dirtily onto your mound, starting to rub circles into the pearl at the apex with flattened fingers.

You writhed beneath him as he scraped his teeth over your neck and chest, only stopping to lick the hand that was rubbing at you to coat it with more saliva before dipping it back down and slipping two fingers inside of you at once.

He finger-fucked you fast and hard.

Megumi never did that to you. Sex with him was always very vanilla and straightforward. Kissing counted as foreplay and then he was inside of you, always in missionary or sometimes spooning you from behind. That was it.

God, you had no idea sex could be this wild and mind-blowing.

You had cum on Toji’s fingers with a cry, not caring if the people next to you heard, and then he kept fucking you through it, adding a third finger and spitting over it again to get you loose and sloppy.

He had a giant cock. That was why he opened you up manually, because it would have done damage had he just fucked into you from the get-go.

When he did enter you, it still stretched you out past your limits, both impossibly thick and long, and you wondered how the hell anyone took a dick that big.

You quickly found out how.

He simply made you take it.

He held you up by your hips, suspending your lower half with the strength of his arms while he pounded into you. You could hardly even recognize your own voice. It was reaching pitches you’d never heard from yourself before, sounding so debauched and wanton you’d think he found some hooker off the street and paid her to moan like a porn star.

You swore you could feel his cock in your womb. With how big he is, you wouldn’t doubt it.

“Megumi doesn’t have a damn clue,” he had grinned to himself, looking at you as he split you open repeatedly. “Sleepin’ like a little bitch while his daddy takes care of you for him.”

You moaned loudly. “Toji…”

“That’s right,” he praised, “Whose cock is inside you right now?”

“Yours, oh—yours…”

“Say my name,” he growled, slapping your mound. You jolted, shivering at the harsh pleasure it gave you.

“Toji,” you mewled, scratching at the bed comforter. He was fucking you hard enough you knew you were going to cum from brute force alone.

“You belong to me now,” he told you. “You’re mine.”

That had sent you over.

“Oh my god!” It was a shout as you orgasmed, creaming all over his cock and onto the bed. He groaned deeply, shoving himself in harshly as he emptied his load inside of you, squeezing your hips so tightly they bruised.

When he’d pulled out, he watched his own seed drip from inside of you, sucking in a breath.

“You should do something about that,” he said. “Unless you wanna give your boyfriend a sibling.”

You shivered. Toji really didn’t give a shit about his son.

At that point, you knew you couldn’t pretend like you had any moral high ground either. You slept with your boyfriend’s dad. You cheated willingly. There was no sugar-coating it.

You had limped your way back to your room and cleaned up in the bathroom, falling asleep next to a still-sleeping, oblivious Megumi.

What’s worse is that a year later you’re still going back for more.

You and Megumi are still together.

He has no clue about Toji, and you want to keep it that way. The two of you barely mention him. He only talked about him the day after you met him once to say that he left when he was seven and never bothered to return.

You hide your affair like it’s your job. So much so that now you’re on birth control. Beforehand Megumi had just been fine with condoms, never making a fuss about them. Toji, as you had quickly found out, doesn’t like them. The largest available size is too small, he had told you, and besides that fact he likes feeling you bare. He doesn’t bother to pull out either, so not wanting to risk pregnancy as well as not wanting to spend fortunes on emergency contraceptives like you had the first time, you just get on birth control instead. You also only ever meet Toji at his place, since you know Megumi doesn’t know where he lives and you currently live with your boyfriend. Having Toji over could easily end awfully. You don’t take chances.

Tonight, you’re seated in Toji’s lap at his apartment. Megumi is away on a business trip, and you’ve been staying at Toji’s place for the past few nights. You’ve had so much sex you can barely think straight, at this point. Since you walked in he was on you, and you’ve christened every surface in his small apartment. The doorway, the living room, the wall of the hallway, the bedroom, the bathroom shower, bent over the sink, the kitchen counter, the table, too…everywhere is free reign.

Right now, you’re facing away from Toji, back to his chest while he bounces you on his cock, burly hands clamped down on your wrists to keep you upright and prevent you from falling forward.

The lewd wet slap of your bodies connecting, his heavy breathing and groans as well as the desperate gasps you keep giving him are all you hear. You two hadn’t even managed to turn the television on before he pulled you in and slipped inside, only his t-shirt and nothing else on you giving him easy access to what he wanted.

Every time your body collides with his, his tip kisses your cervix and it gives you a jolt of pleasure. He’s so deep inside it feels like he’s rearranging your guts.

Then, from his slow and hard pace he suddenly switches up and starts ramming into you harshly, punching mewls from your throat.

“Toji!” You gasp, “Oh god, Toji!”

Your knees are bent and your legs are tucked under them, split apart by his own, and if he wasn’t holding you up right now you’d face-plant right into the floor. The danger and the trust it involves has your head spinning. How did you get here? This isn’t who you used to be—but you wouldn’t go back and stop yourself if you could. It’s too good.

He’s too good.

His right hand is clamping down on your neck from behind abruptly, other hand switching to your waist, wrapping around the front to forcibly arch your back, and you gasp as your air gets restricted, cock getting deeper inside with the new angle.

“Toji,” you rasp, hands covering both of his wrists just to hold onto something as the force of his thrusts start forcing an orgasm through your system. You sputter, body spasming as it begins to take over, building from the spot his tip keeps hammering and undulating through every one of your nerves, yanking a high-pitched whine from your compressed vocal chords. “Toji!”

You tighten around him as you finish, mouth falling open, eyelids fluttering as your vision unfocuses, covering his cock on your essence. He groans deeply, letting your neck go and instead pulling you flush against his chest, pressing your hips down as far as they can go so he can pump his load into you.

With a few sloppy thrusts, he’s cumming, coating your walls in what must be the millionth round this week. He groans deeply into your ear, keeping you pushed down on him, sensitive length throbbing inside of you with the aftershocks.

You then feel his rough lips dragging over your neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses to any skin he can touch, his heavy breaths fanning over your flesh hotly.

“So good for me,” his voice is hoarse and fucked out, and it makes your stomach flutter. Sex with your boyfriend is never this intimate—you’re never pushed to your limits. Toji does it every time and then praises you when you’ve pleased him. It’s so addictive.

You turn your face towards him and he covers your lips with his own, initiating a messy make out session that only ends when you need air. If you didn’t require oxygen, you’d have loved to keep Toji’s tongue in your mouth forever—you think that it could be your only form of sustenance if you had your way.

“When’s he comin’ back again?” Asks Toji. You draw in a breath to steady yourself. It takes you a moment to think.

“Two days from now.”

“Good,” his grin is beastlike. “I get to keep you longer.”

You grin, nodding, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his lips. The position is a little uncomfortable though, so you end it quickly, pulling off of him.

He grabs your hips and turns you around, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Who said you could get off?” He asks, and you take a look at him, noticing that he’s half-hard again already. His stamina is seriously unmatched.

Before you can reply, he pulls you back towards him, this time your chest to his.

“I’m nowhere near done with you,” he says, and it’s done in such a way that you sort of feel like Little Red Riding Hood about to be devoured by the Big Bad Wolf—it thrills you.

And you’ll continue to go back for more.

—-

A/N: MAPPA better whore Toji out like they’ve done for Satoru, Kento, and Choso next week or istg

Please don’t repost or translate but feel free to reblog & share!

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #toji zenin #fushiguro toji #toji fushiguro x you #jjk x y/n

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untaemedqueen · 1 year

Text

Finding My Pack

Alpha!OT7 x Omega!Reader

Genre: Fated Mates, Omegaverse, Smut, Angst, Fluff

Series Warnings: Omega Abuse (Not By OT7), Fated Mates/Soulmates, Scent Sympathy, Sunshine!FMC, Knotting, Smut, MMMMMMMF, MMMF, MMF, MF, Breeding Kink, Cursing, Dom!OT7, Sub!Reader

Chapter Warnings: Omega Abuse

A/N: This will be the only chapter posted to Tumblr. All future chapters can be found on Patreon~! See you there!

Chapter 1.

"You do not lock the goddamn doors in this fucking house."

The sentence was thick with a growl, one that if I was born correctly wouldn't have mattered in the slightest. Just hearing the sharp hit of his words, my insides clenched and coiled, dying to listen and make sure that he wouldn't be mad at me again.

"Sorry," I whispered softly, looking down at my bare toes that curled awkwardly under my gaze.

"You need to put on your scent blocker and try a little bit harder to fit in here. You're making all your brothers crazy with that fucking smell."

Swallowing thickly, I grabbed the bottle from him with a nod.

If my scent made my brothers crazy, they made me out of my fucking mind with sickness. Every one of them smells like acidic garbage with a hint of overpowering sweetness, y'know, like the way too fake soaps or body lotions you find in those hoity toity stores.

"You're a fucking Pangborn. Please act like it," my father grumbled, wrinkling his nose at the smell of my nervousness. "Jesus Christ. I can't believe your mother made you."

His words were a low blow but nothing I wasn't used to hearing now. Nothing any of the pack said got to me as bad as it used it.

Liar.

Okay, a lot of it hurt but I tried not to think of it all the time. It was my fault, really. I wasn't born right.

To be a Pangborn in Cypress City, you have to be an alpha. The Pangborns breed for one purpose and one purpose only, to give the city more alphas then they know what to do with.

Every Pangborn is expected to be a boy, to be an alpha and to take on the numerous betas that are practically beating down the door for them to be let in. So when I was born, disappointment was ripe in the air. It still is.

A small female omega with no qualities and no purpose.

I'm nothing.

Oh that's fun, what a great thought to have. Even if it hurts, it's true.

Since I was born I've been kept hidden like a secret. There's no fairytale here, there's no pack of alpha princes waiting at the bottom of my incredibly sterile, sad tower. There's no one that cares. Well, maybe Brady and MacKenzie but they pretend I don't exist half the time.

Looking down at the bottle of scent blocker, a sob threatened to well up in my throat.

"Weak omega bullshit." That's what my father would say.

It's so fucking annoying to be different. It's so painful. But the hope that one day I'd be accepted never ceased to creep into my thoughts.

So I sprayed the spray on even though it makes me feel sick.

I could smell him before my door opened. His alpha pheromones were bleeding throughout the long hallway that lead to my room.

He smelled of garbage, lemon juice and the slightest hint of boysenberry. Although the boysenberry is not his own smell. It's a betas.

"Oy!" MacKenzie booms, shoving open the door.

His bright red hair and forest green eyes searched the mostly barren room until he found me in the corner.

"He cornered you again?" he asked softly, stepping into the room like he's witnessing a hurt animal.

"It's okay!" I tried to beam a smile for him but it fell flat into some kind of grimace.

MacKenzie wasn't really my brother, he hailed from the Alban Pangborns so he's more like my very distant cousin but he's pack and that makes him my authority regardless. If he barked at me, I'd end up doing his bidding. Just like all my other brothers do. I'm grateful he doesn't do it but he still could nonetheless.

"You sprayed on the right amount," Kenz praised, giving me a small smile.

The praise made me want to preen, made me want to jump and shout for joy that I did something right but I kept it locked tight within me.

"You'll be pleased to know that your father and some of the others are going on a business trip soon. It'll just be some of us left in the house. You won't have to smell all this alpha shite around, you ken?"

His thick accent made me smile then. When he first came over from Alba I had not a fucking clue what he was talking about but now it almost feels like a secret language we speak.

"I ken," I nodded, setting the spray down on my dresser.

"Just wait a while to come down to get your dinner. The boys and I have been having a beta fucking feast," he wiggled his eyebrows and left the doorway without so much as a goodbye.

I wish I was a beta.

No, actually, I wished I was an alpha. I wished I was born an alpha so that I didn't have to be a disappointment and left out of everything.

Sitting down on my bed, I fluffed the uncomfortable comforter around me to no avail and since I know I'm alone I let out the most pitiful of whines. Whining wasn't allowed. My father told me that alphas hate whining more than anything.

Once I whined during dinner with the Landons and their alpha son looked like he wanted to tackle me from across the table. It was the one and only time I was able to go to dinner with my family. They never let me go again.

I apparently ruined their business merger dinner.

My family made a fuck ton of money. Too much money to count on your fingers, not that I'd ever see a cent. I wasn't worth a dollar to them. They own a vast majority of land across the globe, mostly farms or patches of free wilderness that people are begging to buy from them.

If only those vast patches of land would be able to buy me a soft comfortable comforter. This one is rough and itchy and I don't like it. I don't know much about being an omega but I do know that I don't like the blankets I own.

You see, omegas are rare. Like one in one hundred is an omega rare. Somewhere in history omegas just became a rarity and as such they're terribly hated.

Whenever I tried to ask the pack any questions they all shut me down with a growl and told me to go back to my room.

"Y/N!"

My father's bark was sharp and I tightened my terribly uncomfortable blanket over my shoulders at the noise.

If they are having a beta party downstairs I most certainly wouldn't be welcome to interrupt it. All the beta females that came into the house hated me. I tried to be friendly and smile, tried to make friends with other girls but they didn't want anything to do with me.

Probably feeding into the whole hate omega-kind thing, huh?

When my father shouted my name again, I had no choice but to get up. It was an alpha command now, filled with bite and fury.

If I saw one bare tit I was going to lose my goddamn mind. I'd been having these awful urges these past couple of months. It felt like something was boiling in my gut and itching beneath my skin, just begging to get out of me. What it was, I wasn't sure but it feels fucking awful and devastating just the same.

When I was starting to run a fever, my father would give me a few pills and lock me up in my room until the fever had passed and I was able to carry on with my chores.

My feet took me without thinking. The large home I lived in with the twelve others in the pack passed by in a blur. I tried not to look up from the wooden floorboards, I really didn't want to see anyone mating out in the open like I know my brothers loved to do.

I could hear the audible moans of the betas, probably in various states of undress all around me as I made my way to my father's office.

This had always been my home but I'd always felt like a stranger here. It's not just because my family wasn't welcoming, it just felt wrong. Nothing in this place is where it should be. The pictures on the cabin-like wooden walls weren't at all in the right order, the couches in the sitting room weren't staged properly, even the wood that goes into the fireplace smells horrendous.

Everything about this place made me feel sick.

That includes my father's office.

Once I stepped inside I was immediately smacked with pheromones, ones that made my stomach roll with nausea. I wonder if that's how everyone felt. I wonder if betas got nauseous with their families too.

My eyes scanned the room which was terribly out of order and then they caught on the one picture that sat on my father's desk.

It was her.

My mother. Whom of which I've never met. She was a beta that my father never bonded with but got pregnant anyway. He loved her…I think. But when she had me and I was an omega she was disappointed and left me here. She left me here alone. With these people.

Family.

She left me here with my family.

I hadn't realized I whined until my father cracked his hand down on his desk with a fierceness. "What did I say about that shit?!"

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"Not that she ever does, eh?" my brother Riley laughed, elbowing me in the ribs as he passed.

Riley was an interesting case of smells. There's the cedar which makes sense because he spends a lot of time outdoors, there's the sharpness of spearmint like a powerful gum that makes your nostrils burn and…boysenberry?

He and MacKenzie have been sharing again. Definitely not uncommon for those two.

"Close the doors. She's gonna scare all the betas away. I'm not waiting another round for Hunter to have an alpha son of his own."

"Keep the lineage alive." That's the pack motto. What a terrible fucking bumper sticker that would be.

I stood there, looking down at my toes as my father and Riley talked and laughed with one another. Probably forgetting I was even in the room. Which happens sometimes.

"Alright, little O?" Kenz cheered, entering the office.

"Don't call her that," my father snapped, finally remembering I was around.

MacKenzie held his hands up in a gesture to soothe any frayed nerves and he sat down with a groan on the couch closest to father's desk.

"Y/N," my father began, not even offering the kindness to look at me. "Your brothers and I are going on a business trip outside of the city. Some of your brothers, like MacKenzie, are staying back because they have a dinner meeting at the house while I'm away."

My head lifts in surprise. Will I be allowed to go?! Can I eat dinner with my brothers?!

"There's many alphas in the pack, we can kill two birds with one stone. This business meeting is incredibly important for us."

My smile was megawatt and I nodded instantly. "Sure, of course! I can–"

"You can," my father interrupted with a sneer. "Make sure you stay in your room, take your pills and keep your scent blocker applied when the Euphoria Pack comes to the meeting. This contract will be our biggest one so far and I will not have your omega bullshit fuck it up for the rest of us. Do you understand?"

The disappointment and sorrow that swirled through me almost knocked me off my feet. "Oh, I see… I understand."

"See that you do. I won't stand for losing this deal because you couldn't handle yourself."

God, I wanted to curl up and die. I'm so pitiful. What a fucking waste. I wish I was never born an omega.

Trying to bury whines and suffering hurt sometimes and in this instance it felt like a red hot poker was shoved down my throat.

"She stinks like sadness," Riley chuckled, shaking out his long brown hair and looking me over with disdain dripping from every pore.

"Lighten up, brother. She's only human," Kenz laughed, stepping in front of me and waving his hand behind his back.

Get out.

That's what he was telling me.

"Dinner will be brought up to you. If you're feeling hot then take your pills. We're leaving in the morning and we won't be back for a few weeks."

Oh, thank God, I could do without seeing my father and half of my brothers for weeks on end. Maybe finally I would be able to walk around without getting yelled at.

Three days of the freedom I thought I would be acquiring went by too fast. I'd been left with my brothers that were the easiest to deal with. Brady, Ronan, MacKenzie, Dash and Hunter were, of course, the easiest to deal with because they never nagged me and they were always too busy fucking betas to really give a shit what I was doing.

The house stunk of sex and carefree fun but more importantly it smelled of my freedom. I was able to go out in the garden to read, to sunbathe, to smell something that wasn't garbage. It was heavenly.

I'd seen flowers I've never seen before, ones that weren't there the last time I was in the gardens. Apparently Leticia, one of the pack chasers, suggested sprucing things up. When I suggested it to my father I got sent up to my room with no dinner and pills because I was acting 'out of order.' I'm a person not a goddamn machine. How could I possibly be out of order?

But now with the three days of freedom gone, I'm once again left up in my room without a single thing to do. Defiance curled in my bones and I narrowed my eyes at the white little pills on my bedside table.

My father wasn't here, he wouldn't know if I took them or not. I'd rather get a fever then take them and feel even sicker than before. Those pills made me nauseous and I felt like reality was so far out of touch that I'd never get back to it. I did end up spraying the scent blocker, though. Just one little spritz, just enough to save the visiting alphas downstairs from my monstrous odor.

They shouldn't be subjected to a disgusting omega. An embarrassment to the family.

The sprawling cabin estate was large before our eyes but it pales in comparison to the mansion we just created on the outskirts of the state.

"I don't like the smell," Jin murmured to us.

The smell was honestly horrific. These alphas seemed to stew in the scents of sex and their own pheromones. You could smell the female betas like they were throwing out a wide casting net to repulse everyone around them.

"Why the fuck did we agree to this?" Taehyung grumbled, folding his arms.

"Because although they're disgusting, they're rich as fuck and they have the land we need to start up the center," Namjoon replied evenly, fixing his tie.

I couldn't seem to take my eyes off the enlarged wooden cabin in front of us. That's exactly what it was: a large, gigantic wooden house. It would be almost comical if it wasn't very real.

"I don't even wanna touch the door," Hoseok hissed, taking to kicking the front door insead.

Even in this day and age everyone lives with the one soul purpose of finding their person, their omega but this pack didn't seem to care about finding one. Not with the way their lodgings smelled.

Now, of course, finding an omega that's right for your pack is like finding a unicorn or finding gold at the end of a rainbow but packs do it. Not all the time but enough to keep packs hopeful, at least.

Once the door swung open, a red headed alpha before us smiled widely. "Gents, welcome! The Pangborn Pack is happy to have you!"

Namjoon gave him his typical killer smile and the alpha seemed to relax at it. Our pack leader was all killer charm and easy going… until you fuck with his pack.

The seven of us have only had each other for quite a few years now and our family depends on one another more than most.

"Thank you for having us," Jimin smiled, stepping into the home first.

His eyes bounced around the interior before nodding. Once I stepped into the entryway behind him, the need to look at the inside faded. In the air, apart from the alpha scents were the scents of dinner and something so deliciously sweet that it made my mouth water.

Fuck! What is that smell?!

"Made us dessert?" Namjoon inquired with a laugh.

So he can smell that too.

The scent was warm and sugary like a fresh out of the oven sugar cookie with vanilla ice cream slowly melting on top.

Why the fuck was I about to nut over dessert?

Casting my eyes to Taehyung, I could see him tugging at the collar of his expensive dress shirt.

It was getting increasingly hot in here, that I could guarantee.

The scent was so thick and practically viscous I could feel it wrapping around my cock and tugging sensuously. My knot was two seconds from expanding and the desire to rut until I was sated was pressing indecently on my brain.

"No dessert here, lads. The betas can barely cook a steak without it burning! We ordered out for dinner tonight! Dinnae ken billionaires like you would be opposed to that, eh?"

"Dinnae ken means didn't think," another alpha offered, slipping in beside the redhead. His hair was long and brown, shaggy even with a boyish smile that could probably charm anyone he laid his eyes on.

"That sounds great," Jin replied, unbuttoning his suit jacket and cracking his neck.

Whatever that fucking scent is, it has us all by the balls.

Namjoon gripped his hand into a fist, eyes glazing over all of us. "To the dining room, then?"

"Getting right down to business! I love that! We have betas to look after anyway," Red chortled, wiggling his eyebrows at us.

When the group of us moved with the two other alphas, my heart started to hammer as the smell became stronger.

I tried to temper my growl that wormed its way up my throat but Joon caught it. "I don't know what it is but fuck, I want it so bad," he agreed.

"Alright there, lads?"

"Just have to use the restroom. Would you mind sending me in the right direction?" I inquired, needing to find the words through a thick haze of want.

"Bathroom on the first floor is occupied for the betas. Second floor up that staircase there," Red pointed to the staircase from where the scent is strongest. "Fifth door on the right."

With a nod, I set off trying not to falter and stumble from the exquisite smell.

"We'll be waiting in the dining room. The pack is excited to make this merger," the brown haired man smiled.

Once they were out of sight I took the stairs two at a time, eyes searching for any indication of where the scent came from.

I let my senses guide me. Following the smell took me past the bathroom and past any rooms that smelt of the alphas. Stopping at the end of the hallway, the door before me was completely different from the others. It was metal, almost sterile in a sense. But the scent was there, it was so heady and present that my cock stood to attention.

"Oh fuck," I grunted, shoving open the door and barreling up the stairs.

The hallway I rushed down was bare of anything home-y and it looks like some sort of clinical hospital ward.

The door at the other end suddenly opened in a flourish and the sweetest little thing I'd ever seen stepped out with curious, glazed eyes.

"Omega," I groaned long and low, stepping toward her.

She was the maddening scent. She was what my pack was going crazy over.

"Oh! I'm so… I've never–" the sweet thing whispered, looking me over with hunger.

The perfect woman. Right before my fucking eyes. Those lips, those sweet eyes, that adorable, if not a little scared smile, that fucking body. Built just for me and my other pack brothers.

Mine, mine, mine! Every cell in my body screamed it with frantic need.

"Why do you smell so good?" she whimpered, lifting a hand as if she wanted to touch me.

Please fucking touch me. Holy shit, I was going out of my fucking mind from this perfect little thing.

"What do I smell like, sweetness?" I inquired, stepping closer.

"Like warm hot chocolate and marshmallows. Not like garbage at all!" she gasped, looking up with wide, innocent eyes.

A laugh tumbled past my lips. What an innocent creature.

"Does everyone smell like garbage to you, sweetness?"

"I just want to…" she groaned, a whimper slipping past her lips.

A purr started in my chest, rattling my bones with how thick and heavy it was. Oh fuck, I'd never purred for anyone before.

"What do you want?" I asked softly, holding my hands up to show her I mean no harm.

She gripped my wrist with a dainty hand probably thinking it had a fierceness she didn't embody. She lifted my hand to her soft cheek and my purr started up once more.

"I'm so sorry," she apologized, not taking her eyes off mine. "I know omegas are disgusting. I shouldn't bother you."

The sweet purr she pulled from me turned to a growl in an instant. "You could never be disgusting. Omegas are precious. Didn't your alphas teach you that?"

She stared up at me, eyes starting to brim with tears.

Oh my God, she was everything I could have ever wanted. My pants were so fucking tight, my heart feels like it was gonna combust and I'm pretty damn sure I just met my fucking mate.

"They're not really my alphas," she whispered softly, keeping my wrist close to her nose.

I wanted to take this gorgeous woman and lock her away where no one but the pack can find her. Holy shit, my brain was turning to fucking mush.

"What are they then if not your alphas?" I asked, stepping closer.

When my chest brushed against hers, she perfumed the air for me and another purr ripped from my chest like it was an instrument being played purely for her.

"Brothers, father," she mumbled, lost in a haze of our own making.

"So you don't have a pack of your own, sweetness?" I whispered, coursing my thumb over her cheek.

"No one would want me. I'm useless," the omega replied so softly I might not have heard her if not for her keeping my attention ensnared.

"I highly doubt that, pretty girl. What's your name?"

"Y/N…"

Beautiful.

"I'm Jeongguk. It's nice to meet you, sweetness."

"I can't take it. I can't take it. I can't take it!" Jimin chanted, rushing into the hallway.

The omegas gasp was loud and frightened for only a moment until she laid eyes on the other alpha. I purred for her, watching her instantly relax at the noise.

"This is Jimin. He's a part of my pack. The Euphoria Pack."

"Oh no, I've…I've ruined dinner. My father will be so upset with me," she groaned, sounding not as upset as she probably would be if I wasn't purring up a fucking storm.

"Scent sympathetic. I thought it was like a fucking myth for people like us," Jimin laughed, stepping up beside me.

He didn't seem jealous or upset at all that my hands were on her. We've never tried for an omega, not really. Unfortunately, most omegas wanted us for our money and not for the connection. Not to mention most of the omegas we met smelled so cloyingly sweet that it gave us headaches for weeks. Most omegas wanted just some of us but not all of us and that doesn't bode well for a pack.

"You smell like calming tea and blueberries," Y/N breathed, blinking up at him.

"And you smell like a yummy dessert, sweetheart. How's such a pretty omega like you hidden up here away from everything?"

"Why are you being so nice to me? I'm just an omega," she whimpered, looking between us.

"'Just an omega'? Don't you know your worth, pretty girl?" I scoffed, tilting my head.

She opened her mouth to reply, only to shut it and furrow her eyebrows.

"I want to introduce her to the pack. I think this is it. I think we found our girl," Jimin beamed at me, allowing her to pull him closer.

She seemed to be a needy little thing. One we certainly wouldn't mind doting on. She also seemed completely out of touch with reality and it wasn't just because she was obsessed with our scents.

"Do you have a nest, sweetness? Would you care to show us?"

A nest is very sacred to omegas, it's one of the only places they can find comfort during heats and in times of stress. It was incredibly forward for me to ask but I wanted to know what she liked. I knew my hopes might be high but I wanted to set up the nest in the new mansion how she would like it. Because she was mine. She was ours. She belonged with us.

"I– What's a nest?" Y/N asked, eyebrows pinching innocently.

"Do not fucking tell me you're kept in the dark up here," Jimin growled deeply, his scent turning acidic.

Instead of turning tail and running, she started to… climb him?

She climbed him like a fucking tree. And the good looking bastard was all for it.

One arm snaked around her waist to keep her up and the other ran up and down her back in soothing motions.

She nuzzled his cheek and neck, whimpering and begging for his scent to be all over her.

"Good girl," Jimin cooed, purring for her. "Take what you want, sweetheart. We'll gladly give it."

There were rules to getting an omega, courting before mating and making sure your omega was happy and well looked after. In some cities omegas even went to Help Centers to find their perfect pack but Cypress City had no such thing. That was what we were trying to change. That was why we needed this deal with this pack.

"I don't know what's happening! I'm so sorry! I just feel so…"

"Overwhelmed?" Jimin offered, pulling back to look at her.

She nodded, whimpering and tucking her face into the crook of his neck.

"We need to talk to the pack," I told him, pressing my chest to her back and purring. I drifted the back of my hand over her bare arm and she seemed to thrive on not only praise but physical affection.

"I can't leave her," Jimin hissed over her shoulder, hugging her tighter at the thought of having to part.

"I don't want you to go! Please! I'm so tired of being alone! Please don't go!" she sobbed into his neck.

A growl ripped from my chest at her sadness and I was storming off before I even knew what was happening.

She's mine. She's mine. She's mine.

"Guk!" Jimin called but I was already barreling down the stairs with a fierceness building in my chest.

They kept that precious omega in a sterile fucking ward like she was some sort of disease. She didn't even know what a nest was! It was a disgrace! She'd been abused without even understanding anything!

She's mine!

If one more sob of hers entered my ears, I thought I might burn their oversized camp cabin down and dance on the embers.

Shoving open the dining room doors, I glowered at the pack that sat high and mighty at the end of the long dining room table. Once they saw me and smelled me, they all stood.

"Been wandering around our home, have you?" Red asked with the tilt of his head.

"Stupid girl can't do anything but get herself in trouble!" one of them sneered.

The insult made a growl rip from my throat and they all stared long and hard at me. I wouldn't stand for this. I couldn't stand for this.

"She doesn't even know what a fucking nest is. How dare you all treat an omega like this! This is abuse!" I boomed, widening my eyes at them.

My packs jaws fell open in shock and suddenly they were standing to surround me, to have my back.

"She's scent sympathetic with us," Jimin assured, entering the room with her still cradled to him.

I was happy she liked him. He's far more easy going and carefree then most of us and she'd enjoy his company.

My pack stepped toward her and she cried sweetly at all of their scents. They purred for her and my heart expanded. No one was left out and she locked eyes with all of them. She jumped ship from Jimin to Namjoon and he nuzzled her hair. He wrapped her legs around him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Would you like to leave this place, pet?" he inquired.

“She'll do no such thing!" Red boomed.

When she whimpered at the alpha bite, we growled in defiance.

"You think your bark is bad? Mine was given to me by the devil. If I have to force you to obey, I fucking will. It's the omegas choice. You can't keep her here like a fucking prisoner!" Joon boomed.

"She's not a part of the deal," one of the Pangborn's hissed through his teeth.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry," she gasped repeatedly, trying to set herself down.

"Do you want to get down, pet?" Namjoon asked, tilting her jaw to look up at him.

She reluctantly shook her head, burying her face back into his neck.

Oh fuck, she's so perfect and sweet.

"Then you stay exactly where you are," the pack leader whispered, giving her his wrist to be able to tilt his head and glower at the Pangborn pack.

"You expect me to pay? For a person?! Are you out of your small alpha minds?" Namjoon bit out, sneering at her brothers.

"MacKenzie… Dad is gonna flip," one of them breathed.

"I'm tired of always having to sneak Juliet around. Just be rid of her. Omegas are nothing but trouble."

Hoseok growled so loudly, something he never does, that it almost made my chest rattle.

"I know you don't know us very well," Seokjin breathed slowly as the other pack continued to argue. "But if you feel safe with us we'd like to take you somewhere you can be yourself and be happy. How does that sound, princess? You deserve much better than this shithole."

"I won't feel sick?" she inquired, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

Oh, she's killing me here.

"Do you feel sick in this house?" Yoongi growled, narrowing his eyes at the other pack.

Her nod was slow and sad.

"I'm getting her out of here. Now!" Namjoon boomed, pressing her face into the scent gland of his neck.

She seemed to love being held. We could do that for her. We could give her anything and everything she wants. We could be good for her.

"Give us a million!" Red or MacKenzie called back but Namjoon was already heading for the door.

"Get fucked!" our pack leader growled.

"Wh-Where are we going?" Y/N asked, taking a deep breath of fresh air.

"Home, sweetness," I promised. "We're going home."

#ABO #Finding My Pack #Chapter 1 #Chap 1 #Omegaverse #ot7 x reader #alpha!ot7 #omega!fmc #omega!reader #jeongguk #jungkook #fic #bts fic #yoongi #seokjin #namjoon #jimin #hoseok #taehyung

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goodlucktai · 18 days

Note

29 with Mikey and Leo please!

29. “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

It really was his own fault. If Mikey didn’t want to be babied, he shouldn’t have broken his wrist.

He was mostly just annoyed it happened in such a boring way, catching himself wrong falling off his skateboard.

Yes he’d decided to sneak off and find a sewer tunnel to attempt the full pipe loop a full two weeks before Draxum said the gross mystic mandrake tea would finish running its course, but he felt fine! His hands barely shook anymore, only when he overworked himself or let himself get too tired or too excited.

But from the look on everyone’s faces when he slunk home ungraciously dragging his board behind him, you’d think he was at death’s door.

What was worse, Donnie wheeled him by the shoulders into the infirmary and deposited him right in front of Leonardo, the only person Mikey couldn’t out-stubborn, whose affable smile faded at once into that serious look that made all of his siblings straighten their spines and pay attention.

If the skateboarding accident had happened pre-almost-apocalypse, Dr. Leo would have probably led with a joke instead of, “Tell me where it hurts, and be specific.”

Mikey resigned himself to a ridiculous amount of mother-henning for the duration his arm was stuck in its short cast. His brothers took his newly fragile hands so personally, like they were the ones who couldn’t hold an inking pen or color inside the lines or even cook a meal more complicated than lasagna without having to give up in the middle and have someone else take over. Like they were the ones who woke up shaking in the middle of the night from some distant, half-forgotten dream of disappearing into fragments of light, arms radiating pain like it was their job, a confused jumble of grief and fear and farewell on his tongue until he went and climbed into bed with papa or Raphie and let them hug it all away.

Leo said Mikey’s wrist wouldn’t need the full six-to-twelve weeks that a baseline human’s would due to their genetic modifications—“Thank you, Barry,” they had chorused in varying degrees of sincerity (Mikey, Raph and Casey) and sarcasm (Leo, Donnie and Splinter)—but that he still needed to give it time to heal.

“You’re the toughest guy I know,” Leo had said, poking Mikey on the beak to stall the inevitable whine, “but you gotta give yourself a break, Miguelito.”

He said it like his skin wasn’t still bruised like a peach and his shell all wired together from going one-on-one with an actual living nightmare even as he found the energy to take care of someone else.

He sat there in the doctor’s seat, pressing carefully around the wet fiberglass to mold it to Mikey’s wrist, all his attention bent to the task. He always tended to his brothers’ hurts the same way, as if it was the most important and remarkable thing he’d ever do.

Leo’s own casts had only been removed last month, and he was usually very good about following his own medical advice, if only because he knew his siblings would cite his behavior in a heartbeat if it meant they could loophole around doctor’s orders. So Mikey really had no choice but to sulk and accept the distant cousin of scolding he received.

“It’s not a race,” Leo said, smiling at him. “No one’s gonna run off without you. Where would we go that’s half as good as where you’re at?”

It was his knee-jerk reaction to smile at Mikey, like his day got better automatically when Mikey was in it, and it soothed that jangling, frustrated thing inside of Mikey’s chest that only got loud when no one took him seriously. Leo always took him seriously, was always the first of their siblings to believe he could do anything he said he could do, and that meant taking Mikey’s injuries seriously, too.

He’d seen the way Leo had to run himself ragged making sure Donnie kept up with the treatments to his shell and Raph followed instructions on taking care of his eye to the letter. They were trying to spare Leo additional stress, but if they knew they were only compounding the stress he was already in and making it ten times worse, Mikey was pretty sure they’d shut up and take their medicine.

Mikey wanted to be on Leo’s team, not playing against him. So he put his sulk away and put on his best listening face instead, rewarded when some nearly-invisible line of tension in Leo’s shoulders relaxed until it was gone.

Besides, it wasn’t all bad. He got to pick what color cast he wanted, and got everyone to sign it. And it wasn’t the most horrible thing in the world not to have to do any chores.

And when Leo announced to the lair as a whole that he was going to visit his tío Hueso and bring back pizzas for dinner—in a tone that made it very clear he was not asking for permission or inviting any worrywart older siblings along—he followed it up with, “You coming, Angie?”

Maybe because he had been under the scrutiny of worrywart older siblings, too, and understood better than anybody how close Mikey was to biting the next person who tried to baby him. Or maybe because Mikey was the exception to Leo’s rules and he always had been—always invited and always welcome and always wanted.

In another place, in another time, Leo asked Mikey to die for him, and Mikey died for him.

In this kinder one, Mikey jumped to his feet with a grin and said, “I’m with you!” and it didn’t cost him anything.

It should have been silly to say something out loud that they both knew was true, but sometimes it was nice to hear it.

#rottmnt #rise of the tmnt #hamato michelangelo #hamato leonardo #portal duo #my writing #prompt #calmturquoise #tmnt fic

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zlebooks · 2 years

Text

A SINGLE THREAD OF GOLD (TIED ME TO YOU) 𓍯 series of events where you realize your fate with him is much more intertwined than how you initially believed it to be.

INCLUDES. 🪡 childe, thoma, xiao, zhongli (i might do a part two for ayato, diluc, kazuha !! i just wanted to get this out of my drafts as soon as possible 😭)

AUTHOR’S NOTE. you know the trope “omygod it’s annoying you’ve been by my side all the time but somehow it became less annoying… i like it even and omg i didn’t notice that what i’m looking for is you all along” ?? yes this is that trope … inspired by taylor swift’s invisible string and the movie harry met sally! both got me in a chokehold rn. also the angst levels increase the further you scroll down.

somehow friends to lovers, mentions of wedding and settling down.

childe is a friend. although, he isn’t the type of friend that you share your secrets with, not a friend who regularly contacts you to hang out, nor is he a friend that eats ice cream with you whenever you get your heart broken. childe is the friend you met through mutual connections, the one that makes you say ‘oh! what a small world’ because you just met him last week at a friend’s birthday and now he’s attending as one of the groomsmen at your distant relative’s wedding.

he’s equally surprised as you, of course he wouldn’t forget the one person that told him: “god this party sucks” when the celebrant was just literally behind the two of you. he remembers you being brazen and holding a glass of beer on one hand.

just like the birthday party, during the wedding’s reception, childe finds himself sitting beside you. he asks you how you’re doing as if a lot happened within the week you were separated.

(“you say that as if a week could eventful.”

“hey! a lot can happen in a week!”

you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to prove his point.

“like one of your friends getting married!” he gestures to the now married couple dancing.

you find yourself stupidly laughing.)

you both enjoy yourselves together. in the short period of time you sat beside him, you figured that childe was fun to be around and he basically knows everyone in the city.

that’s why, you couldn’t help but joke that you might see him again in another wedding.

(you did.)

surprise was an understatement when you saw him entering the venue. this time, you were a bridesmaid, and he was the cousin of the groom. and just like the previous wedding, childe finds himself sitting beside you, now talking about how the last two months went for you.

(“you better not tell me i can’t ask you about how you spent the last two months because it’s a short time.”

“you know how a year for a human is seven years for a dog?”

“you’re telling me i’m the dog?”

once again, you idiotically laugh.)

this time around, you found out that childe’s real name was ajax. childe was just a nickname given to him by his 8th grade teacher and the name has been stuck ever since. you figured out that he likes the nickname rather well— he tells you that it makes him interesting to which you disagree, sparking a thirty minute debate between you two.

when the party died down, and you were called to help the newly wedded bride, you both bid each other good night. this time, it was his turn to joke about the next wedding you two will meet.

(“if i saw you again in another wedding, i promise to shave my head.”

you snort, “see you at the next wedding then.”)

the moment you meet childe once again, you were a little bit disappointed that you weren’t wearing another bridesmaid dress. however, childe was more than ecstatic that he met you in a baby shower hosted by a mutual friend (once again).

the moment the couple popped the balloon which launched dozens of pink confetti to the air, childe appears right beside you almost immediately.

this time, you find out that he’s equally anxious as you to see the people in your life settling down. that your friends left and right are getting married and having kids, while you had the trouble of looking for someone to spend new year’s eve with.

(“don’t you think that all these events we’re attending are getting suffocating?”

this was the first time you wholeheartedly agree with him without the teasing.)

when everyone else was starting to clean up, and you finally put your hand on your friend’s belly to feel the baby kick, childe tells you he’s going home with a box of take outs. he finally asks you for your number, telling you that he hopes to see you again without the pressuring reminders of settling down.

(“see you on new years?”

“see you on new years.”)

five months went by without the wedding and baby shower invitations, you were glad to say the least. while you were incredibly happy for your friends, you can’t help but to feel insecure for being unable to settle down like the most of them are.

childe and you call sometimes, mostly right before bed and you always scold him for ruining your body clock. but as whiny as you can be, you never actually hung up on him.

these conversations over the phone let you discover little things about childe. like how he hates ketchup on eggs but is fine with it being on everything else, how he likes eating mint choco flavored ice cream but detests anything else flavored mint, and the fact that one of his hobbies is crocheting stuffed toys for teucer who you learned was childe’s youngest brother.

he came from a big family from the country side. he had three older siblings and another three that followed him. you learn that he was a family man; he specifically treasures and adores the three younger ones left at home.

you discover that to them, childe is ajax— the dependable big brother.

during the phone calls, ajax tells you his adventures back home. how he once got pulled into the lake after catching a fish bigger than him, how he once went home with more than enough bruises after learning how to skate for the first time. in return, you supply him the latest office gossip; how the boss and his secretary were sleeping together and almost got caught by the wife. putting things into perspective, your stories were much more dull.

despite these phone calls starting to become a part of your nightly routine, you both never came around to the idea of spending time with each other in personal.

however, the promise of spending new years with each other still remains. and when the night came, you were all bundled up in his arms from complaining how cold it was outside. it was now his turn to complain about the cold as you have succeeded at stealing his mittens and scarf.

(“you didn’t think you could dress for the weather?”

“my coats at home ruin my dress.”)

when the countdown starts and the ball finally drops, everyone starts kissing their partners while you could only stare at childe’s lips. he does the same to you, and before you knew it, you were leaning towards each other, finding the warmth of your lips.

ajax finally meets you halfway and the moment just felt right.

(the next wedding you attend to was yours. and every single one of your mutual friends were invited.)

friends to lovers, swearing.

thoma has been there for your first heartbreak.

he was there to watch every sappy romcoms known to man with you, he was there to give you a new roll of tissue whenever you ran out, and he was right beside you to clean up whatever mess you made.

thoma has been there when your first love shattered your heart into pieces just like how you’ve been there for him when his broke.

the two of you fell easily into a routine; he listens when you gush over the guy you recently met while you give him advice on how to win over his seat mate in class. he reassures you that it wasn’t your fault that things ended up that way while you listen to his frustrations about how incorrigible his girlfriend was. the two of you share a microwave meal as you both whine how relationships are tiring only for the two of you to share a tub of ice cream two weeks later, as you talk about how beautiful it is to love.

the night you call him, your words gibberish and barely comprehensible, it doesn’t take thoma very long to piece the puzzles together. you were obviously upset (upset is an understatement) about your recent romantic endeavor and it was up to thoma to cheer you up just like you’ve done for him many times.

on his way to your home, he picks up a tub of ice cream, a pack of tissue to be safe, and a romantic film that he knew would make you laugh at the ridiculousness.

he rings your doorbell to which you open the door in response, and he sees you standing in your pjs, eyes bloodshot and snot all over your nose. while this was the typical look whenever you were heartbroken, thoma is confused and left to wonder— you have yet to mention being interested to someone for the past two months.

but when a gold envelope haphazardly thrown on the kitchen counter catches his eyes, thoma gets the idea.

“he’s getting married.” you sob loudly, “he’s fucking getting married.”

the male hands you the box of tissue he bought, and you motion him to enter the flat.

“all this time, i thought he didn’t want to get married ever, but he just meant that he didn’t want to get to married to me,” you cry harder than what thoma was accustomed to, and scared that you might literally fall apart, he leads you to your couch.

“and you know what’s funny? they’re getting married on spring,” you inhale briefly, “in fucking spring thoma! that’s when i wanted to get married.”

the man pats you in the back, “he was a douche anyway; i didn’t like him.” thoma takes out the ice cream he bought, handing it to you and the spoon urging you to eat like it would make your problems disappear right away.

as if you hadn’t heard your friend, you continue venting out your frustrations. “and get this: the girl he’s marrying is hannah.”

“hannah?”

“hannah on your 21st birthday. your hannah!”

“oh.”

he sits on the couch, grabs the tub of ice cream and keeps it to himself.

and then the two of you sit in silence.

“do you think this is god’s way of telling us that we’re meant for each other?”

thoma raises an eyebrow.

“i mean, all the people that throws us away—“ thoma decides that he will lecture you on your choice of words, “—end up being together. like maybe we’re so bad that we’re made for each other?”

“which movie did you watch without me?” he teases, to which you take offense because you would never dare to watch a bad movie without him. the rest of the night continues without the topic being brushed over once again but for a moment, thoma actually considers the thought.

maybe, just maybe.

five months followed, and you never cried out your heart to him ever since. thoma, finds himself relinquishing from meeting new people, taking time to sort out himself partly. the other part knows that ever since you told him your silly theory about why your relationships always end up as failures, thoma had started seeing you more than as a friend.

he thinks that he’d make a great damn boyfriend; better than anyone else you had. he knows exactly what makes you double on the floor for laughing, the food you want to eat on certain days, and how to calm you down whenever you were anything but.

despite that, thoma waits. he waits for you to come to him, waiting for you to realize, and waiting for you to be ready. so when you call him up on a friday night, just to hang and not talk about how relationships were taxing, that was the moment he knew.

when you told him you wanted to see another romcom movie without being gibberish and snot blocking your nose, he decides that maybe it’s finally the right time.

thoma lives for the after. the after of every failed relationship because he knows that at the end of the tunnel, there is hope. that in every relationship he enters, he’ll be one step closer to “the one”. and as he looks at you, fighting to keep your eyes wide open to watch yet another sappy romcom movie, he realizes you were the after.

kind of soulmates to lovers, reincarnation, character death (but it’s a happy/hopeful ending don’t worry)

xiao dreams.

at night, dreams plague him in his sleep and he wakes up wondering what is it all about.

illustrations of what wang shu inn looked like more than 10,000 years ago visits him in his sleep, the old liyue looking so vivid as if he lived to tell the its tales.

in these dreams, xiao is always visited by the same person. their hair covers almost half of their face whenever the wind blows, their lips always chastising the “him” in his dreams, their smile was so bright that it completely unravels the heavy knot on xiao’s chest.

and xiao finds himself longing. whenever he wakes up in the morning, he yearns for this person. for him, it feels like the act of falling in love with someone you don’t know, missing somebody you never met.

(“promise that you will look for me in our next lives, alatus.”

xiao jolts awake.)

the young man has heard of that name before.

in his history class, way back in 7th grade, he had heard the feats and victories that belonged to the name. a fearless warrior that served liyue’s god, alatus was said to die peacefully years after the war yet he was all alone.

he had lived his life devoted to the god of contracts; spending his days fighting demons, alatus’ loyalty was to liyue and its people.

xiao hears that a museum nearly ten blocks away has opened to visitors. it is said it contains almost all the rich history of liyue that remains untouched, including portraits and statues once revered many years ago. there, xiao seeks answers.

he arrives at the sight of a familiar figure.

“do you know him?”

you turn around, looking at the guy bewildered.

“i’d have to be really old for me to know him,”

xiao feels his breath taken away from him as he finally confirms his suspicions; you looked exactly like the person in his dreams, only your hair is much shorter. the flurry of emotions inside of him breaks the dam; his heart pounding loudly in his chest that any louder you would have heard it, his head filled with incomplete memories, and his lungs struggling to breath.

(one night at wangshu inn, he sees you brushing your hair.

“join me and let’s look at the stars together.” you pat the space next to you.

“waste of my time.” he tsks, before muttering his breath but he finds himself taking his rightful place beside you.)

he notices the way your eyebrows furrow at him and your lips turning into a pout. “has anyone told you that you look exactly like the guy in the painting?”

true to your words, when xiao gazes upwards, he sees himself staring back at him. eyes bore into his soul, scrutinizing his every move and it’s extremely weird that such painting makes him feel like he’s being watched, and by himself no less.

below the painting, a gold plate is mounted against the wall.

a lover’s oath.

alatus in the art is holding someone. their white clothing smeared with blood, and the tears that fall from the yaksha’s face were enough to tell xiao that they were in their last moments before separation.

strangely, xiao feels a tug on his heart strings. an overwhelming feeling looks over him, and he feels like he’s about to cry.

“it brings you to tears, doesn’t it?”

(xiao in his dreams feels like his heart was ripped open.

in his arms, the only person he might have loved is already dying. the blood from the wound seeping on their clothes is a reminder that it’s only minutes away before their impending doom.

xiao, for the first time in a while, cries when he wakes up.)

“i dream of the person in white,” xiao suddenly confesses.

“they say that they might have been alatus’ friend, companion, and lover.” you tell him, reading from the standee near you.

when you receive no reply from the male, you glance at him and your eyes meet.

intrigue, you ask, “how do they look like in your dreams?”

“they look like you.”

the timeline varies but it’s mainly centered in whatever the genshin timeline is for plot convenience, references to death (still happy ending), reincarnation au, it literally takes several lifetimes for zhongli to realize he likes you, literally the “i’m god’s favorite mortal; he favors me” pipeline. ALSO i got carried away im sorry

first.

you first meet zhongli as a refugee from the waging war. the god governing your land slaughtered mercilessly by those who seek more power. your feet brings you to morax; looking for a shelter and protection.

you almost got turned away, even receiving snide remarks from higher beings for being naively brave to seek protection from a god when you were nothing but a mortal.

(but what is a god’s purpose if not to protect the nation he governs and the people inhabiting it?)

it was only in the right hand deity’s grace were you able to stay.

so like a fish out of water, you live amongst immortals, making yourself useful with mundane tasks that warriors shouldn’t be bothered with.

(when you died in the hands of the enemy, it served as a reminder why morax fights this war.)

second.

the next time zhongli notices of your presence, it was in the middle of the rise of liyue harbor. he is finally a step closer to building a safe land to house his people; long years of the war soon to be buried.

morax, now known as rex lapis, hears every single prayer made at his statues.

he feels you ardently take care of the sculptures and in return, he passionately listens to your pleas of saving your sick mother.

(on your way home one day, you find a plant you’ve never seen before. you take its fruit for your mother to eat as you hold onto your faith, hoping that this may be the answer to your prayers.

the next day, she stands up from her bed for the first time in a long while.)

third.

the first time you were able to hold a conversation with zhongli, was his first time walking amongst mortals.

he now goes by jiawei, a struggling merchant trying to strike a fortune in the harbor— at least that’s what he tells you during your introductions.

you’ve always thought that jiawei was a noble’s son. his vast knowledge on liyue’s history, his proficiency in reading and writing, and his peculiar taste for lavishness gave it away. furthermore, there were days he hadn’t been present, and you surely assumed it was due to his duties as a noble.

zhongli, or jiawei in this life, shares myths and legends of ancient liyue to you while you show him the ropes of living as a simple commoner in his land. he teaches you how to read and write while you teach him what goes on at the streets of the harbor.

(when jiawei doesn’t appear one night to meet you under the stars, you assume he finally grew out of his childlike wonder and immaturity. instead, he grows into the shoes that were his noble duties.)

fourth.

zhongli catches your reincarnation crying underneath an oak tree this time.

he approaches you gently, wishing to comfort an old friend even if you probably don’t remember him. a hand behind your back soothes whatever distress you’re carrying as he tells you everything will be alright.

zhongli learns you are bound to suffer the same fate as almost every maiden in his country.

in a few months or so, your hand will be taken and you will be forced to marry someone whom you have yet to meet.

and zhongli, for the first time, meets someone who openly cursed rex lapis.

(“trust in the lord rex lapis my foot, he doesn’t even listen to my prayers!”

zhongli purses his lips— if only you retained your past memories.)

the following week, your father shared good news that you wouldn’t have to marry to save your clan from ruin. apparently, your crops have never been better and every merchant is seeking business with you.

the next time you see the man who listened you vent out your frustrations under a tree, you thank him for the comfort you received. he expresses his happiness as you tell him that maybe rex lapis isn’t deaf after all while you don’t catch the slight tense on his shoulders.

(that life, just like any other life, you thank him with a different name yet again. zhongli feels that he’s close to losing his identity.)

fifth.

“i know you from somewhere.”

“that wouldn’t be possible; i have just gotten back from my travels.”

“i know you from a long time ago.”

“again, that would be impossible.”

the fifth time zhongli meets you, he notices that your sense of deja vu has gotten stronger.

the god gives you his mortal name that he decided to stick to, making it the first time among others that you meet him under the name zhongli.

in this life, he tells you that he’s a scholar that hails from the land of sumeru with keen interest on liyue’s rich history, and now he’s traveling across teyvat for his studies. you find yourself not believing him one bit.

he tells you stories from his travels, from the hospitality of mondstandt to the exquisite cuisine of inazuma, zhongli recounts the wonders of each nations he’s visited. but from his stories, you know that the man’s heart will always remain in liyue.

and as months passed by and seasons changed, you find yourself wishing that his heart would remain with you as well. but the god resigned himself to a much crueler fate; to walk down a path alone and by himself.

(“i think i love you.”

“it shall pass.”)

sixth.

the heart is a fickle thing, zhongli realizes.

in your previous lifetime, he refused to return your feelings and for a while, he’s committed to it. but as he lays his eyes on you for the first time in this lifetime, he was suddenly reminded that he too, was capable of loving.

zhongli doesn’t approach you, afraid that the feelings he has locked away far deep into the trenches of his heart will blossom and turn into something as beautiful as flowers. but alas, your soul finds his, under the same oak tree that he once found you under, and you almost remembered.

(“i just know that you were special to me.”

zhongli almost caves.)

seventh.

almost a century passes by and zhongli’s feelings for you remain the same. you died and you were reborn.

he never reveals himself to you.

eighth.

ninth.

tenth.

eleventh.

(“why do you seem so afraid?”

the god does not reply, afraid that his voice might give him away.

“why can’t you give us a chance?”)

twelfth.

when zhongli is just zhongli and rex lapis was no more, he comes and finds you.

he dines with you in your favorite restaurant, he walks around the harbor with you hand in hand, and he finally takes you to places in liyue to see its beauty that the textbooks could never justify.

for the first time, the ex archon takes the key and unlocks his heart, allowing himself to love with no restrictions.

(you die from old age, and you know that your husband isn’t anything like you for his hair remained dark while yours turned white, his skin smooth and soft while yours had turned wrinkled and rough from time.)

twentieth.

liyue’s skies have been crying non stop and zhongli is to blame partly.

while he had renounced his claim to the land long ago, a part of his soul is still linked to his beloved nation.

your body remained lifeless, cold, and bitter in the god’s arms. you died peacefully in your sleep, beside your lover and zhongli feels like heart in his chest is being ripped apart slowly and painfully.

as a mortal, you were granted with infinite numbers of reincarnations. you meet zhongli, you spend your lifetime with him wondering why his touch feels so familiar, and then you die peacefully. the cycle repeats.

(zhongli is cursed; he’s sure of it.

while he remembers every waking moment with you, you were bound to forget him and the lives you spent together.

but still, even if the cycle of losing you hurts more than any wound he received from the wars he fought, zhongli continues.

for what is grief if not love persevering?)

twenty-fifth.

through the years, he has grown weary and tired. the path to godhood is a lonely one, but a path leaving his old ways whilst immortal? zhongli has never felt more alone in his life.

he ventures the lands and seas in attempt to break free from the shackles of being a god.

but even then, his path remains anything but fortuitous; his attempts were futile.

(it was his turn to swear at celestia and the higher beings.)

thirty-ninth.

zhongli finds comfort in writing.

he jots down everything about you in every life you spend with him, afraid he’ll forget one detail about you.

this is where he finds solace in when time takes you away from him. it’s what keeps him sane as he waits for you in your next life and the one after that.

as he reads and reads the words he put down into notes, he notices nothing ever changes. he always end up falling in love with you, and you always end up falling in love with him. for zhongli, may it be cruel in its own way, it is a reminder that immortal he may be, he always has a place in your mortality.

(“what are you writing?”

“just some reminders for the day darling.”)

fortieth.

zhongli, with how long he’s been living, should have known better than to leave his possessions laying out in the open.

it’s not like he’s keeping secrets from you, but even he would go crazy if he finds a journal (of his lover nonetheless) that suggests he’s already living his fortieth life.

but you were better than zhongli at handling things like this. you were much more patient and calmer, like the never changing rivers of liyue.

zhongli tells you of your past lives for the first time, and you cry.

not because you felt trapped by loving the same person all the time, but rather, sorry that your lover had to go through all of it all alone.

(“can’t you just grow old with me?”

“believe me sweetest, i tried.”)

morax, rex lapis, jia wei, zhongli. they’re all the same. they’re all slaves to love and to the dreams of spending the rest of their lives with someone they cherish.

that night, zhongli prayed, got on his knees and begged.

once, he was an enemy of celestia. now, he falls to its feet willing to do anything just for it to grant his wish.

he doesn’t sleep, eat, or drink. he just prays.

(oh how the mighty have fallen.)

a week later, your eyes squint at him and he wonders.

“is there something on my face?”

you shake your head, and without warning you pull a strand of hair from his head.

“are you supposed to have white hair?”

zhongli, funnily enough, starts bawling.

(you never thought someone would be so happy that wrinkles are starting to appear all around his face, and how the callousness of his hands become more evident.)

forty-ninth.

fiftieth.

fifty-third.

sixtieth.

seventieth.

zhongli is able to love freely. finally.

please do not repost or translate without my permission. reblogs are greatly appreciated!

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remember-the-fanfics · 8 months

Note

Omg I’d love to hear about the earth born reader’s dynamics with the cast!

You get the whole info about the reader because :D

(Y/n) (Middle Name) (L/n)

Age- 17-21

Gender- Nonbinary (They/them)

Height- 5'0 - 5'6

Appearance-

Demon-ish look

• Purple eyes that look like cat eyes

• Pointy ears and sharp teeth

• Claw looking finger that wouldn't actually cut anything

• Hair is multiple color with (h/c) and (any color), hair looks ruffled all the time. Goes to your shoulder.

• Magic necklace to let you look like this is solid metal to not be easily broken.

Human look

• Base human look

• Hair is less ruffled, still a slight mess.

Info

• Clothes are mostly given by any of the main cast, minus a whole suit that Alastor got you fitted for along with a skirt and pants. Charlie did buy you some clothes in your size since most of the cast is taller than you.

• Either you can here by a portal made by some certain imps and got booted to the pride level with how your soul is closest to a sinner and that just whiplash you enough to forget; or random magic nonsense or ritual that someone close to you did and accidentally got you into hell.

• Have yet to figure out the person who gave you the necklace. Maybe someone who use to be in your shoes long time ago.

• Charlie and Vaggie go between acting like your moms or your annoyed older sisters (mostly Vaggie)

• Alastor treats you like a child, like a distant weird uncle when you get to know him more. Gives you random gifts, most get taken away by being deadly weapons by Vaggie.

• Angel Dust reminds you of an annoying older brother or Cousin, that has a 10 year gap between each other. Protective, isn't as sexual in your presence still is though. Never talks about work to you.

• Husk, doesn't let you drink any alcohol even if you want to. Says you're too young, has so water or soda at the bar for you. Definitely an uncle.

• Niffty, weird short hyperactive aunt that hates bugs and loves cleaning. Talks to you about any interest men she sees, also gifts you less deadly weapons or anything interesting she finds. Has given you a bottle of bleach with no context.

• You would kill for any of the pets including Razzle and Dazzle, those two would kill for you too after Charlie request they watched over you as well

• Lucifer mistook you as Vaggies kid and then also Charlie when he learned that the two were dating and that they found you together. Even after finding out that you weren't technically their kid, he would still act like granddad that missed out on half your life and gift you random things, mostly ducks when you said they looked cute.

• Charlie had to tell him not to gift you anymore ones that can produce fire. You've near caught the hotel on fire 3 times and everyone in the cross fire.

• You gave sad puppy eyes for days afterwards towards everyone.

• Sir Pentious had to be tell directly not to make you any deadly weapons after he gave you a hand-held flamethrower when he fell for your puppy eyes.

• Now, Vaggie has collection of weapons that everyone gives you that you almost hurt someone and yourself.

• Everyone defense is that you don't use you demon powers when in danger, not knowing you aren't an actual sinner.

• So you only have a certain few weapons to keep you safe when out if the hotel.

• Charlie and Vaggie know the most of your past that you willing talk about. Knows about your direct family, that you died young.

• Charlie got you as a guest because she doesn't think you should actually be a sinner. Minus the fires that you've accidentally started, you could be here for a pyromaniac.

• But then you apologized right after, not many it to happen.

• The main cast have tried to figure out why you got sent here.

• Alastor doesn't really care, thinking you barely just sinned enough to got sent here.

#platonic hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel #earthborn reader #hazbin hotel x reader #charlie morningstar #platonic #vaggie #alastor #niffty #husk #angel dust

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hollandorks · 1 year

Text

haven

battinson! bruce wayne x f! reader

chapter two

Summary: After the sudden deaths of your mother and grandmother, you’re forced to return home to Gotham…and to the man who broke your heart three years ago. Back in Bruce Wayne’s inescapable orbit, you vow to get to the bottom of your former best friend’s new cold personality. But Bruce’s secrets aren’t what you’re expecting. a

a/n: I have like six chapters written and a rough (mental) outline of the next four or so, so I'm going to keep posting pretty frequently! I mostly want to get these first few posted to get a nice foundation going...and also because I'm greedy for the attention. Enjoy!

Series Masterlist

word count: 2.5k

Her childhood bedroom was exactly as she had left it three years ago, free of dust, the linens on the bed so fresh she could still smell the detergent.

She threw herself onto the bed and finally let herself cry.

The funerals were a small, somber affair two days later.

Y/n’s mother’s only guests were her sponsor, a distant cousin she had been close with, and a neighbor. Dory’s guests included Bruce and Alfred, along with a few friends, her sister, and her niece and her family. Though the number of guests were few, y/n knew her grandmother was well loved.

As the sermon commenced, y/n found herself aching for just one more hug, one more story, one more smile.

And her mother…the grief for her was unexpected and sharp. She had been a bad mother, yes, but in recent years she’d made an effort. She got help for her addictions. Apologized. Sent the occasional card or letter. Took her own mother to appointments when y/n was too much of a coward to face Bruce.

She couldn’t stop the tears, but she hung on every word said over them in goodbye. She wanted to speak for them, to say her own goodbye, but she couldn’t bring herself to. It was too hard. The hardest thing she’d ever done.

And when Alfred stepped up to the podium, his kind words made her choke on emotion, her muffled sob echoing in the space despite her best efforts to smother it.

She half expected Bruce to comfort her, to try to make her laugh like he had when they were young. But he made sure Alfred sat between them, the space yawning wide like a chasm instead of the length of a single chair. When she glanced over at him, his eyes were on her, his hands bunched into tight fists on top of his knees.

Were those…bruises across his knuckles? She frowned even as he continued to watch her. Well, he had gone through a street racing phase when they were in high school. Maybe he was into boxing now. She had no way of knowing.

She met his eyes once more and her already broken heart broke a little more when he turned away without a word.

She ached for one more smile, one more hug, from Bruce as much as from her grandmother. It was another type of grief, but worse because she could get those things, if only their relationship was still alive. He was there, he was alive, but he was just as far away as the two people in the coffins before her were.

After the funerals and the reception at her grandmother’s church, y/n followed Alfred and Bruce out of the elevator at Wayne Tower. It felt as if she had aged ten years in the span of three days. Her steps were heavy as she trudged towards her room. Tomorrow, she thought tiredly, she would have to go through her grandmother’s things. Alfred told her that she didn’t have to, that everything could stay as it was–but she knew that she had infringed upon Bruce Wayne’s generosity for too long already.

In her own room again, she tried to go to sleep. It wasn’t late, but she was exhausted, and she wanted her brain to turn off for a little while. She didn’t want to think, to remember, to go over every single thing she would never get to do again with her grandmother. She didn’t want to think about Bruce’s gaze on her at the funeral, his hands in fists, his lips pressed tightly together.

She had lost everyone who loved her, except for Alfred.

The loneliness and the grief were sharp in her chest.

Hours later, she was still awake.

With a groan, she rolled over, defeated. It was nearly midnight.

She stood and changed into something more comfortable.

She needed to get out. Out of the place of so many memories, good and bad. Every moment in Wayne Tower was like being chased by ghosts. One moment, she saw herself and Bruce at eight years old, chasing each other up and down the stairs. In the next, she saw her grandmother teaching her how to properly carry a tray of tea to Mr. and Mrs. Wayne. In the next, she heard Bruce’s angry words echo off of the vaulted ceiling as he broke her heart.

Y/n shuddered as she walked towards the elevator that would take her down and out.

“Where are you going?” a gruff voice asked, nearly making her scream.

She whirled around. Bruce was half-hidden in the shadows.

“Out,” she said, feeling oddly like a teenager again. Dory and Alfred had caught her sneaking out many a night. Somehow, they’d never caught Bruce, but always caught her. She had that same guilty feeling now, spreading sticky fingers through her like a flush of heat.

Bruce stepped into the weak light from the lamp on the entry table. “Out where?”

“God, what are you, my father?” she asked with a roll of her eyes. “Just out, Bruce.”

“In Gotham?” he asked, incredulity coloring his tone. His dark eyebrows disappeared into the lengths of his hair. “It’s too dangerous.”

“Never stopped me before,” she said with a shrug. She missed him so much she relished each word he gave her, even if they were a reprimand. She needed to leave before she got stuck in an argument with him–or worse, cried. “See you later.”

She hit the button for the elevator and startled all over again when Bruce grabbed her wrist. She hadn’t heard him close the distance between them. How could someone so tall and broad move so silently, she wondered. And then she realized that he was touching her bare skin, and electricity crackled up her arm.

She wanted to lean into him. God, she missed him.

But then he ruined the moment. “No. It’s too dangerous, y/n.”

Anger rose within her, wild and unstoppable and full of thorns. She bristled at it. “I don’t care.” She yanked her arm away and stepped into the now-open elevator. Even three years away couldn’t tamper the hurt she still felt. It was as fresh at it had been the day he’d ripped out her heart. “I can’t stand to be in this place another second.”

He took a step forward too, blue eyes blazing. “Let me at least–”

“You’ve done enough,” she snapped. The words seemed to stun him into stillness. Which worked for her, because then the doors slid closed, and she was whisked down and away, just like she wanted.

She slumped against the far wall of the elevator, suddenly tired again. She wondered if Bruce was watching her on the security camera she knew was in the upper left corner. She knew he was trying to look out for her–he always had, even as kids when he was much smaller and scrawnier than her–and she had thrown it back in his face. But she was so damn tired. Tired of pretending like she wasn’t hurting. Of pretending like she could look him in the eyes without remembering how much she loved him. Of pretending like things might ever be able to go back to the way they used to be. Of pretending like she wasn’t fucking lonely.

Cold air assaulted her as she stepped outside of the tower. The security guard had barely given her a second glance. She was an adult now and not technically sneaking out, so he didn’t care what she did.

It smelled like it had rained recently or would rain again soon.

She inhaled deeply. Something in her settled. Gotham might stink like any other city but it was a familiar kind of stink. Almost comforting. And the damp smell underneath it was another comfort, one Bludhaven didn’t have to offer with its drier climate.

Y/n turned and walked off with no direction in mind. Maybe she’d stop by the diner on the corner three blocks away. She and Bruce had eaten many a late night meal there. She hadn’t had dinner, either, and was suddenly ravenous. Had she eaten lunch? She couldn’t remember eating anything before leaving for the funerals.

She made sure to keep aware of her surroundings because, as much as she hated to admit it, Bruce was right. Gotham was dangerous. It always had been. It didn’t matter that there was some freak in a bat costume running around, either. He could only do so much. And it didn’t matter that a lot of the corruption had been rooted out by that serial killer, Edward Nashton, the man called the Riddler. Gotham had a way of turning even the best of people into something rotten. It was only a matter of time before another guy in a costume showed up or another mayor turned bad.

Y/n’s mind turned to the bat guy as she scanned the shadows around her. Maybe she’d get lucky, catch a glimpse. She had read a lot of op-ed articles over the past three years while he’d been active. She wasn’t sure what to make of him. She had to admit, he was doing good for the city. One article in particular came to mind–an interview with Lieutenant James Gordon at the GCPD. He apparently worked with the Batman often and they had caught the Riddler together.

One line in particular stood out to her. Those days, in a city where I wasn’t sure who to trust on my own team, I trusted him.

And somehow, this Lieutenant Gordon had avoided being a target of the Riddler, which had to count for something. Because as psycho as he was, Nashton had targeted the corrupt. Well, except for Bruce Wayne. She still couldn’t forgive him for trying to blow up Bruce and almost succeeding with Alfred.

She slipped into the diner, busy despite the late hour, her mind still swirling with thoughts of serial killers and vigilantes and cops.

She took the last free booth in the corner, the cold night air following her inside. An old jazz song hummed in the background and the air smelled like bacon and burnt toast. Her stomach announced its emptiness again, loudly.

She was still thinking of the vigilante as she placed her order with an older waitress with hair the color of wine.

What was to stop the Batman from becoming like the Riddler? They both had taken justice into their own hands and only one was in prison. The Batman hadn’t killed anyone….that they knew of. So why did the city laud him and crucify the other?

Although, she thought as she dug into her stack of chocolate chip pancakes, there had been protests and riots in regards to the Riddler. Enough people had believed in him that a group of them had tried to shoot up Gotham Square Garden in the floods.

Her head was pounding now. The part of her brain that made her a good reporter was latching on to the idea of vigilantes and the line between good and bad. She wanted to write an op-ed article herself, but her thoughts on the matter weren’t original in the slightest.

Maybe, while she was in the city, she’d run into the vigilante and ask for an interview. In a city of criminals like Gotham, the chances were relatively high of seeing the vigilante at least once.

She snorted quietly to herself. That was an unoriginal thought if there ever was one. She would bet money that any reporter worth their salt had tried and failed to interview the Batman. Which probably had involved at least a few getting into trouble on purpose. And still, nothing on his identity. Hell, even his friend Lieutenant Gordon was pretty tight lipped about him, despite telling the world how much he trusted the vigilante.

“Hey,” she asked her waitress as she brought the receipt over. The cracked vinyl seat creaked as she leaned forward. “Ever seen that Batman guy? I’m from out of town, so…” She shrugged, gave a coy smile.

It was technically the truth. She’d been gone for three years, and in that short amount of time, Gotham had birthed all kinds of crazies, including the Batman and the Riddler. It was a running joke in Bludhaven, who only had “normal” criminals.

The waitress shrugged. “I haven’t ever seen him, no. But it makes me feel better working so late, knowing he’s out there.” She inserted y/n’s card into a handheld credit card machine.

Y/n nodded and chewed her lip. “How do you know he’s on your side, though? That Riddler guy last year did alright, up until the flooding and the shooting.”

The waitress’s expression soured. “Batman’s never killed anyone, good or bad. Ever since he became…you know, a vigilante…he never killed anyone. Ask around and you’ll eventually find someone he saved from a mugging or an armed robbery. Or, more likely, someone he helped when all the higher ups left us to fend for ourselves in the floodwaters.”

“Wow,” y/n said after a moment. The waitress had…fierce opinions about the vigilante. “I didn’t realize he was so…loved.”

The woman shrugged again. She handed the card and receipt over. “I’m just saying, he looks out for the little guy.”

Y/n absently tapped her bank card on the table. “Well, that’s good to know. Maybe I’ll see him out there, yeah?” She laughed lightly.

“Probably better than you don’t, because then that means he’s saving you from something.” The waitress winked and went to another of her tables.

Y/n was really itching to write an article now. Wouldn't it be great if she were the one to get to the bottom of the mystery surrounding the Batman? Maybe her editor would loan her out to the Gotham Tribune or another newspaper for a special assignment.

She scoffed quietly as she got up to leave. They would simply tell her the truth–there wasn’t anything special enough about her to be the one to succeed where so many others had failed. The only special thing about her was that she had been raised alongside a billionaire. A billionaire who didn’t even want to be her friend anymore.

As she stepped out of the diner, she turned left instead of right. Right would have led her to Wayne Tower, and she definitely wasn’t ready to go back. Talking to the waitress about the vigilante had lit an all too familiar fire within her. The kind of fire that usually burned her, but always led to a hell of a good story by the end.

The kind of fire that made her do stupid things, like stop when she heard a muffled sound from the end of an alley.

The kind of fire that made her sneak forward, into the shadows, to see several men huddled over two other figures.

The two on the ground were both hooded and bound with hands behind their backs. But one was slumped over while one was still on their knees.

And that same fire gave y/n her first burn as she took out her phone and started recording.

There was another muffled sound and she finally placed exactly what it was as the second hooded figure slumped against the first. It was a gun–a gun with a silencer. When she realized, she made her next mistake.

She gasped.

And every head–four of them, all men–turned to look at her.

Next Chapter

taglist:

@ktficworld @grunge-n-roses5 @anon-cat-posts @projectdreamwalker @slovakshadow

#the batman x reader #battinson x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batman x reader #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x y/n #battinson x y/n

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sebastianswallows · 1 year

Text

Ardour — Chapter 1

— PAIRING: professor!Tom Riddle x Reader

— SYNOPSIS: Tom got what he wanted, he is the Hogwarts DADA professor. It's more tedious than he envisioned, but his day gets interesting when his favourite student comes to him for help after she is hit with a strong aphrodisiac.

— WARNINGS: angst, fluff, age difference (she is in 7th year), dub-con kissing, sex pollen basically, hints of incest (reader is a distant Gaunt relation, don't ask me why, I just wanted a depraved twist and also to give her and Tom something more in common)

— WORDCOUNT: 4k

— A/N: I had this filthy idea and I AI-RPed it and it turned out so well I could not leave it be. So here's part 1. I expect we'll have 2, max 3 parts. Those will contain the smut. Credit to my writing partner, this cute little chat bot, who wrote a very soft and romantic Tom. I had to spend a lot of time re-writing him to be a bit more mean 😂 And yeah reader is more of an OC tbh, because the physical description was important for their similarity in looks. ...You'll see. Also don't mind me fancasting Tom Hughes as an older Tom.

There was a knock on the door. Professor Tom Riddle, who taught Defence Against the Dark Arts, raised his head from grading papers. He sighed at the interruption and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He checked his watch to see if it was late enough for him to pretend to be at dinner, but he had no such luck — it was sometime in the late afternoon.

He'd once thought that getting this position was all he wanted. To teach Defence Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts, and be the youngest one to take the position in the school’s history, would be a great achievement, after all — aside from giving him the opportunity to, like Professor Slughorn, collect students, Hogwarts' best and brightest, select his favourites, and helpfully guide them in a way that suited his long-term personal ambitions.

But what he found instead was that it was a great deal of hard work, unending responsibilities, and long hours. He had to always be available to help students, he had to think the year ahead before it even started, and he had to always be on top of the course material — or at least pretend to be. He had to put up with noisy and inattentive students, be careful to reward the clever and punish the disruptive, calculate awarded points and distribute detentions — but not too harshly. Last but not least, he had to put up with the other staff — the crass, the sycophantic, the obsequious, and the stupid. He almost missed his days working at Borgin and Burkes...

"Come in," he called out a little loudly, not really caring who it was as long it was someone whose presence doesn't make him want to claw his eyes out. He looked expectantly at the door, waiting for whoever was there to step inside and give him take a break from the endless stream of badly written essays.

The door opened slowly, and Adara walked in.

Adara Gaunt, Slytherin 7th year, and one of his brightest. She was excellent at Defence Against the Dark Arts, and he had noticed in her an interest in the Dark Arts in general. She wasn’t a troublemaker like some of the other pure-bloods, entitled little narcissists who wanted to show off, which made it easy for her to not come under suspicion when some book was unaccounted for in the Restricted Section. She was less clever at hiding it after the fact, when she would answer a question of his during classes with an intriguing little tidbit, and he always knew exactly which book she’d read that in. If she got into trouble at all, it was casting the wrong hex at the wrong boy when she got picked on, and then making his well-groomed, fancy-robed, ignorant father complain to the Headmaster. Tom tried not to give her preferential treatment — but he had to actively try.

It didn’t help that she was a relative of his, by way of a second cousin of his lamented grandfather Marvolo, one who married some scion of the Black family and was scarcely spoken of again. He wasn’t sure what that made her — his niece? hardly. Not that he would ever tell that to her. Last thing he needed was some hanger-on.

No, as far as his students and most of the staff were concerned, he was a half-blood with the muggle name of Riddle, and nobody suspected anything illustrious from the magical side of his family — not that there had been anything particularly illustrious about the Gaunts for a hundred years. And as far as he had gathered from gossip and from observation, Adara’s outcast Gaunt-Black family wasn’t fairing much better than his own had. She spent every holiday she could at Hogwarts, she was withdrawn yet had a spiteful edge to her, she sought an escape from reality in subjects of the most extreme kind — his favourite kind, too —and, from his personal experience, he detected traces of neglect. An unwanted child, that much was certain. Sometimes, he thought she was still better off than living in a muggle orphanage — other times, he was not so sure.

She was pallid, dark-haired and dark-eyed, with an elegant showing of bones beneath her skin, and a quiet, withdrawn demeanour — in other words, a more unhealthy vision of him in a different sex. Still, he could see those eyes sparkle whenever he taught the darkest, most terrifying subjects, even while the rest of the class was frightened or disgusted. He understood why she liked it. There was nothing like the promise of power to the powerless.

And so, his eyes widened slightly when he saw her stepping unannounced into his office. It wasn’t like her… But if he were to talk to any of his wretched students, he could count himself lucky that it was her. His demeanour softened when he saw her standing there.

"Adara, it is such a pleasure to have you here."

"Hello, Professor," she said, closing the door behind her but moving no further in. "I hope I'm not disturbing you... I can come back later, if—"

Tom sighed at her timidity but smiled. "You’re not disturbing anything. Come in."

He got up and went to stand in front of the desk, ready to speak with her, and she came closer too.

"I'm very sorry to ask, sir," she started, swallowing the knot in her throat, "but... I was wondering if you can help me with something... I don't wish to go to the nurse about it, I don’t like her, and... you're an expert in this field — I mean, aside from Professor Slughorn, who I… also don’t wish to see. So I thought maybe you would know a solution..." She bit her lip after her ramble, looking at him to gauge his reaction.

She was terrified of bothering him, in fact, of being a nuisance, but she also didn’t know who else to turn to. He could tell she had gone through the options in her mind, and he was, in fact, the third after Nurse Blainey and Slughorn.

"Don't be sorry, Adara. It is my duty to assist students," he sighed. "Please, tell me what it is you need help with."

She looked up at him, visibly tensing even in the darkness of his office as she stood a few feet away, her face hot and body shivering under the effects of... something. Something unusual. She was typically a bit shy, but not that shy. She even looked a bit... unwell. Her legs rubbed against each other and she stood before him unsteadily, as if her bones or muscles ached.

"Well?" said Tom. "Go ahead…"

"I got into an argument with Amyas Avery and he snuck Ardour Fly up my skirt," she said in one fast breath, blushing profusely and looking down.

Tom frowned. Ardour Fly was a powder, a potent aphrodisiac that had few known cures. It irritated the victim and brought them to a point of sensitivity that was nearly torturous given long exposure. It was typically used between lovers, as the effects would not relent unless the victim was brought to... the very heights of pleasure. Until then, they would suffer painful, heated, relentless arousal that drove them mad with desire. What a snot-nose like Avery was doing with it, he didn’t wish to know — but he intended to find out anyway, as part of a long letter to his father.

"He did what to you?" His voice had that edge to it now.

He moved closer to look her over more closely, and she inhaled sharply at even something as innocuous as his approach. Tom brought a hand to her forehead: feverish, and she gasped. A gentle touch to her cheek with the back of his fingers rewarded him with a moan, and she was trying to look everywhere but at him.

"And where is Mr Avery now?" he whispered, his eyes scanning her body, taking in all the symptoms.

He heard her give a trembling exhale at the close sound of him, her eyes becoming lidded, looking drowsy. The timbre of his voice alone had driven her insane with want.

"I... Mmmm... I don't know. I guess he'll... go have lunch in the... Great Hall come dinnertime..."

"And did anyone else see it happen?"

"Mmmm..." she moaned, closing her eyes and biting her lip. "Vanius Nott was there, and Selby Carrow, and Ophius Black..."

Tom’s hand went to her cheek again, but he slid the edges of his fingers down beneath her jaw and tilted her face up to look at him. The storm of emotions in her was nothing compared to that in him: anger and cold fury were there, and a lust for revenge after what the useless progenies of socialites and sycophants had done to his favourite. They had humiliated her, bodily and mentally, out in the open where other little cowards could watch and laugh.

"And where were you when this happened?" he asked gently.

"In the Transfiguration courtyard," she said in a choked mumble.

Her head nearly tilted toward his palm, perhaps to nuzzle it, before he took it away. He almost wished he hadn’t hurried to remove it… His eyes slid to her uniform: ruffled, tie out of place, buttons holding on but barely… She’d either gotten into a physical scuffle, or she’d spent the last few minutes tearing away at herself in frustration before she decided to come to him for help.

He was so close he could smell her, smell the scent of something sharp and woody like ginger — the Ardour Fly — and underneath it, quickly overtaking it, something fleshy and sweet, warm and a bit salty, something cloying that settled at the back of his throat.

"Look at me for a moment," he asked gently.

She did, gazing into his eyes bravely. He held her eyes for a quiet moment, then without warning put his palm right over her lower stomach.

"Aaaahhh!"

She gave a weak animal sound, something half-moan half-scream. She was nearly bending over at the feeling. Beneath his hand, Tom worked a bit of wandless magic to confirm the state of her insides. As he suspected: swollen, throbbing, overworked, and underloved. He inhaled sharply in sympathy as the sensations coursed through him, before he quickly took his hand away.

He didn’t often have the opportunity to examine the effects of aphrodisiacs on their victims, although he had sold his fair share while at Borgin and Burkes. He never liked these dirty tricks out of principle, although a means to an end was a means to an end… But seeing their effects now on her, his favourite student, his flesh and blood, he felt far less forgiving.

She clung to her waist protectively — his hand had been warm enough that she felt it through her clothes, and it pained her in that way an unfulfilled desire does.

"Please, Professor Riddle," she whimpered, sounding on the verge of tears. "I can’t take it, please tell me you have a cure for it…"

Of course, there was no cure for Ardour Fly at Hogwarts. Those were rare and expensive. Perhaps Nurse Blainey could help her with the symptoms by means of some antipyretic potions, at least until they could have something actually useful delivered to the castle. But the only cure they had on hand, so to speak, was to let the aphrodisiac fulfil its purpose.

"Alright," he sighed, mostly to himself. He could do this. It was a legitimate concern. It could even be an illegitimate concern, because anyway, nobody was going to find out, he’d make sure of that.

"Oh thank you so much, please, it hurts, it hurts..."

"What hurts?" he asked coolly, looking in her eyes again. "Tell me exactly what it is that hurts."

She stared at him dumbly for a moment, then realised he was actually waiting for her to say it.

"My... my..."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes, completely humiliated by the situation but dizzy from the effect of the Ardour Fly.

"My... intimate parts," she finally said, finding a term that was polite enough to say in the presence of a Professor.

"I see..." he whispered, his voice a little breathless now too above the anger he felt at the situation and his lingering anxieties. I can do this. "Show me where it hurts you."

Her soul left her body. She would have collapsed if she weren’t frozen stiff. She looked into his eyes, but there was no playfulness there. He was treating her as seriously, as clinically, as the victim of a poisoning… and it drove her dizzy with desire. It was at that point she realised she made a mistake going for help to the youngest and most handsome professor in the school.

But he didn’t seem any more amused by it than she was. He levelled at her the same stern gaze with which he expected them to hand in their homework, only now his voice was warmer and much close, and it was just the two of them, and he wasn’t asking for a roll of parchment but for her to lift her skirt.

Or did he prefer that she bend over?

The aphrodisiac was twisting not only her senses, but also her sense, and she found her mind going in the most depraved and humiliating directions. But he hadn’t meant it like that, did he? She genuinely was in pain, and her most dear Professor was offering to help. It made sense, it made sense...

After a few moments during which she switched between fighting with herself and looking into his dark eyes, she brought her hands to the edges of her skirt, and lifted it. She showed herself to him.

Tom’s icy gaze slid from her flushed face, down. Her panties were black with a lace flourish, and could barely contain her. She had been leaking down herself, the top of her thighs damp and shining in the candlelight, her folds swollen and visibly throbbing, the very material moving gently with a pulse that matched her heartbeat. And the scent of her, pure and innocent and aroused, became that much stronger now.

Tom stared at her with an intensity unlike anything he has ever felt before, and yet his composure betrayed nothing. It was only his stillness and the time he took to look at her, to drink his fill, that hinted at anything selfish at all. But inwardly, his senses were gripped by an unspeakable desire, a mixture of lust and pain and anger and something else, something that made his stomach churn at the mere thought of it.

His breath was slow and heavy as he spoke.

"You poor girl," he whispered. "What do you think should be done with those boys?"

Her lips parted in wonder at the turn in conversation. That was the last thing she expected from her Professor... to ask for her opinion. It made her realise how little she knew him...

"Punish them," she said with shaky anger. "Give them detention for the rest of the year or humiliate them or let me hex them or... I don't know, but I want them punished."

He smiled, feeling proud and oddly protective of her. That’s my girl, slithered a traitorous thought.

"Rest assured, I will punish them," he said with delight. "Not just detention, but much, much more."

He stared down at her, taking in the entire sight before him, a genuine look of affection in his eyes as he stared at her, an unspoken admiration. Her skirt was still held up in her trembling hands, her eyes were fixed on his, expectant and pleading and so, so obedient… But as he merely watched and said nothing else, she began to cover herself again.

"Thank you, Sir," she smiled, feeling so grateful she could cry.

It moved her beyond what he could know, to feel protected... Nobody had ever made her feel that way, not any of the other distracted teachers nor her fairweather friends and certainly not her parents.

"Um... so…" she asked with a blush. "Do you have a... treatment for the Ardour Fly, Sir? Can you help me?"

He grinned at that, seeming unhappy and excited at the same time, but also oddly… caring.

"Yes, Adara. I will help you."

She smiled at hearing it, as he expected. She trusted him completely.

Don’t get carried away, Tom thought to himself. Don’t let it go to your head.

He held her gaze, still smiling, and spoke in what he tried to make his most soothing, his most encouraging and reassuring tone. The irony was he hoped she’d gotten a hefty enough dose of aphrodisiac to even accept the treatment he was about to offer.

"There is only one treatment for the Ardour Fly we have available to us. It is a… procedure, but a well-tested method. It is, in fact, the recommended treatment. Do you understand?"

"I think so, Sir…"

She didn’t.

"I agree to help you, because I know you’re a good student and you deserve better than this, and I can only imagine what you must be going through right now… But it will take a considerable amount of… fortitude and… tolerance from your side."

"Alright, Sir," she said, looking up into his dark eyes.

She wanted to be brave for him, she wanted to be worthy of his praise and his help and his confidence, but most of all she wanted to show how grateful he was that he could help her. No, most of all she wanted something else…

"Good girl," he whispered, his smile tilting intimately.

A shiver ran up and down her spine at hearing it. She’d never been called that, and to hear Professor Riddle say it to her made her weak.

"You’ll need to lie down for your treatment," he said, then pointed to the far right of the room. "Go there, on the sofa."

It was an old and battered thing upholstered in green velvet that had worn away in places, but it looked to her like an operating table as she approached. She looked behind her as Professor Riddle followed, his arms politely behind his back. She didn’t see him take any equipment or potions, which made her wonder what this treatment was…

She sat on it, almost experimentally, letting herself gingerly on the cushion, but even that pressure was too much. Her head tilted back and she frowned with pleasure-pain at the intense sensation of having her tender parts all pressed together by her thighs.

"Now, lay on your back," he said as he came to a stop beside her.

She took her shoes off first, then came to rest on her back, trying to find a comfortable position. Her arms were stretched out and tense by her sides, and all she could look at was the shadowy stone ceiling.

Professor Riddle sat down on the floor, by her chest, and leisurely trailed his eyes up and down the length of her. She heard him sigh, but could not detect the precise feeling behind it.

"Do you trust me?" he asked quietly. "Do you trust me with every part of you?"

"Yes, Professor," she whispered almost so softly that he couldn't hear.

"Then listen carefully." His voice was almost gentle, almost. "I am going to kiss you now."

"Wh—!"

"Just one, soft, gentle kiss on your lips."

"Whatwhy?!" she asked in a tangle of emotions. She stared at him with wide, shocked eyes, her elbows braced against the sofa ready to lift her.

"I thought you said you trusted me," he said with a feline narrowing of the eyes.

"I d-do, but…"

"But what?"

She swallowed the knot in her throat and said nothing, conveying instead with her eyes and her lips and her frown all the things she couldn’t say: her worry, her fear, her despair for an ease to her pain, her mortification, and her frustrated desires… Tom understood her better than he wanted to.

"Ready?" he asked in a warm whisper as he leaned in.

His hand touched her cheek again, lightly enough that it was more of a tickle. She could smell ink on his fingers, and the salt from the sweat of his palms… She wanted to lick it clean.

"It’s just one kiss, Adara," he whispered in a last attempt to reassure her. "I’m not exactly asking for a huge sacrifice, am I?"

She wavered at that, her eyes dipping down shyly, sadly, even as his touch mollified her. She hesitated. "I've never been kissed, Sir..." she whispered.

Ah. So that’s why she was sad. This wasn't what she had imagined when she pictured her first kiss. She hoped to share it under quite different, more romantic, more conventional circumstances, if ever...

But at the same time, her body was screaming at her to accept, to assuage the aphrodisiac that was wreaking havoc on her nerves and her senses and her mind.

"You can still refuse," he said with a cocked brow, his fingers gentling her cheek with slow caresses.

She even felt a hint of guilt slip between her nerves... Professor Riddle was willing to help her, and here she was, stalling, fearing him, having doubts... He felt her hesitation.

"Don't worry, it will be a simple, gentle kiss. I will endeavour to make it positively sterile. Alright?"

She couldn’t look at him, but she nodded.

Tom leaned in even further and caressed her from her jaw to her chin in one long hungry lick of a stroke, looking into her eyes even as hers avoided him — deep and dark and lovely… He breathed in, breathed her in, for a moment feeling as if something of each of their own could merge into one being. He didn’t like that feeling, it felt like surrender.

"Do you trust me?" he asked in a huskier voice than he intended.

She looked up at him, pleading silently for him to be for her what he had been the whole time she was his student: her comfort, her consolation, her support, more than anyone else had been.

"I do trust you, Sir," she said with a choked voice, her throat tight with unspilled tears.

"There’s a good girl," he whispered, smiling down at her.

He could see her eyes growing dark at that, could see her breathing in panting breaths even worse than before, her knees coming up to offer her some comfort, to expose her to the cool air of the room and calm her aching parts… His eyes had that same smouldering look in them, but mixed in was the intense desire to prove to Adara that he could help her, comfort and protect her.

With the very tip of his index tilting her chin up, Tom leaned in and kissed her lips. It was the gentlest kiss imaginable, a pressing of his mouth against hers, quiet and silent and patient, a simple display of affection — but his eyes bore into hers throughout, like he was searching through her thoughts, through her very soul.

She looked back into his eyes throughout while his lips pressed with a certain kind of care into her, as tender as a fallen leaf. The scent of his skin so close, the scent of his clothes, the feeling of his warm lips and his cold finger, all made her feel a strange new feeling for her professor — or perhaps, it was not so new, she had just tried to suppress it because it was so indecent, so unworthy of him, and of her.

As he pulled away, he didn’t miss her little tongue slipping out to lick the taste of him off her. He smiled as he circled her chin with his thumb.

"How do you feel?" he whispered.

"The same? I mean, t-thank you, Sir..." she said, a little breathless. Her mind was still spinning from what he had just done for her. "But... It... it still hurts," she whined.

"Hmmm? Oh, yes. That wasn’t part of the treatment."

"What?"

"The ‘treatment’ comes next. I’m going to have to give you an orgasm. It just didn’t seem courteous without kissing your lips first."

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