#his name is little turkey! (that’s not the name we’re giving him since we already have one picked out but the shelter named him that lol)

[hotgirlgraps]

Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Your family gets a little wild on Thanksgiving and Tyler sneaks you away from the chaos

A/N: this turned out to be funnier than i intended lmaooo and i also couldn’t figure out a good name for this fic so thanksgiving is what we’re going with

Pulling into the driveway, you felt your stomach knot up. You looked at the time being four-thirty and hoped you’d be able to leave by at least six.

Tyler turned the car off and looked over at you. “You’ve been silent the whole ride. You okay?” He asks, and you feel the knots in your stomach get even tighter.

“Yeah, I’m just nervous.” You admitted, clutching the dish you brought sitting in your lap.

“Why?” He asks. “It’s your family. I should be the one that’s nervous.” He chuckles, trying to lighten your mood.

“They just don’t get along when they all get together like this.” You tell him, sighing as you reluctantly unbuckled your seatbelt. “Last Thanksgiving ended in my uncle taking the whole turkey and chucking it across the yard because my cousin said it was dry. All hell broke loose after that.”

“What?” He gaped, clearly trying to stifle his laugh. “That’s crazy.”

“My mom and my aunt ended up throwing their drinks on each other and getting in a whole screaming match about some shit that they’re still mad about from high school too. They’re all crazy. Welcome to my family.” You forced a smile.

You were mainly nervous that Tyler wouldn’t be able to deal with the chaos. It was your first big holiday together and as much as you should’ve been anticipating it, you were dreading it.

His family was nothing like yours. They were crazy, but not in a way that they ended up in fights at the end of every get together. You realized that when he invited you to a summer barbecue at his parents house. They all welcomed you with open arms and joked around with each other all night long.

You’d been terrified for him to come to any holiday with your family ever since.

“Hey” he grabs your hand and gives it a gentle squeeze. “It’s gonna be okay. Okay? If things get crazy tonight, we can just leave.” He shrugs. “But try to enjoy this. I know you love your family and you don’t get to see them much anymore. You should enjoy this time with them.”

You nodded with a smile that was a little less forced and leaned over to place a kiss to his cheek before you both got out the car.

Walking up to the door, you could already hear the chatter coming from inside the house. You opened the door and saw your mom and your aunt first, preparing some dishes in the kitchen. They turned around when they heard the door open.

“Hello!” Your aunt singed, grabbing the dish from your hand and passing it to your mom. She gave you a hug and moved on to Tyler.

“So nice to see you got to come today!” She beamed, giving him a hug next. “We’ve only got to meet one other time.”

“Yes ma’am, i’m glad i was able to make it.” He smiles. You could tell he was a little nervous himself.

You gave your mom a hug next and she handed you a spoon right after. “Stir the mashed potatoes for us please.” She says before she gives Tyler a hug next.

“You look nice today, Tyler. We were just wondering if you were gonna wear that hoodie we always see you in.” She teases.

There was a slight blush that crept up on his cheeks but he tried to hide it.

Just then, you heard some loud footsteps coming from the stairs and your uncle rounded the corner right after.

“I thought I heard y/n” He grinned, about to give you a hug before he saw Tyler standing next to the counter.

“You must be the boyfriend.” He says, walking over to the fridge and pulling out two beers, passing one to him.

“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He adds, twisting the cap.

Your aunt shot him a look that he picked up on. “Be nice” she said.

“I’m always nice” He grinned. “Come on, man, let’s let the girls finish up in here. You like UFC? Got it on upstairs in the game room if you wanna watch with us.”

“Yeah, sounds cool.” Tyler said, looking back at you one more time before he headed upstairs.

“And Uncle Bryce just stole my boyfriend.” You chuckle. “You told him not to interrogate him, right?”

“Of course.” Your aunt said. “He’s not gonna do anything like that. He’s just curious who this new guy is that his niece is dating.”

“I like him” Your mom chimed in. “He seems like he’s good to you, and you look happy.”

“I am.” You beam.

“Oh no.” Your aunt says when she opens the oven. “You know who’s not gonna be happy? Bryce. This ham is burnt.”

“I told you the oven was too high, Emily.” Your mom scolded, rushing to pull the ham out the oven.

“I always make it on this temperature, it was not too high.”

“Then why the hell is it burnt?” your mom snapped. “You always do this every single year. Maybe you should be in charge of something else, cause ham isn’t your specialty.”

You rolled your eyes as you stirred the mashed potatoes, feeling like the chaos was already about to start.

“Look at this!” Your mom exclaimed as she cut into the ham. “It’s gonna be so dry”

“It’s fine.” Your aunt snapped back, swatting your mom’s hand away so she could doctor the ham herself. “Just go check on the green bean casserole or something. I got this.”

Your mom sighed as she opened the second oven, pulling the pan out and lifting the foil.

“I made this, so I know it’s fine.” She made a smart comment, and you felt the tensions arising quick.

Just then, your cousin came through the door.

“I’m here, and I brought alcohol!” She cheered, picking up on the tensions in the kitchen as soon as she stepped in.

“Fuck. Another thanksgiving fight? Why did I expect anything less?”

“No, we’re not fighting this year.” You said as you shot a look between both your mom and your aunt. You grabbed two of the bottles from your cousins bag and handed her one. You were thankful she showed up cause if anyone could understand, it was her.

“Where’s your man? I thought you were bringing him?”

“Upstairs with the guys.” You say before clicking your glasses together and taking a sip.

“Oh God, poor guy.” She joked before she put the drinks in the fridge.

“Emily, just throw that shit out. We’ll stick with turkey.” Your mom snapped again.

“It’s fine! If you don’t want it, don’t eat it. I’m not throwing the whole ham out.”

“Nobody’s gonna want that shit.” Your mom raised her voice. You rolled your eyes again and looked over at your cousin who was tipping back her drink.

“It’s fine!” Your aunt shouted back. “Who’s ready to eat? Girls, go set the table.” She directed you, passing you plates and silverware.

You both headed into the dining room. You could still hear them bickering in the kitchen.

“Every year. Never fails.” You sigh.

“That’s our family.” Your cousin shrugs. “Why do you think I get drunk when I’m here?”

“Tyler has never seen a holiday with us though. I don’t want him to think we’re insane.”

“But we are.” Your cousin chuckled. “Didn’t you warn him? Our mom’s are control freaks, my dad is a certified asshole, grandma loves to instigate and nobody knows how to communicate. Happy holidays, right?”

“His family is nothing like ours.” You tell her as you place the silverware down. “They’re so laid back and we’re so…”

“Not laid back. Yeah. But don’t worry so much about it. He was gonna end up seeing the crazy anyway. Better he sees it now than ten years down the road.”

You heard your mom calling for the guys to come downstairs and fix their plates. You took a deep breath and internally prepared yourself for whatever the hell was about to happen.

Tyler surprisingly came down with a smile on his face. He gave you a quick kiss before he grabbed the plate you were passing to him.

“Have fun up there?” You quirked a brow, and he nodded.

“Yeah, your uncle and brother are pretty cool.”

“Everyone just ignore the burnt ham! We still have turkey!” Your mom announced, smiling even though you knew she was throwing a shot at your aunt.

Your aunt was gritting her teeth as she cut into the ham. You were just thankful she didn’t say anything to fuel your mom’s petty fire.

Once you all got seated and started eating, the interrogation from your uncle started.

“So, since we don’t know much about you, Tyler, care to tell us about yourself?”

“You didn’t find out enough by googling him?” Your cousin piped up. “Pretty sure you know this guy’s whole life story by now.”

Your uncle cut his eyes but bit his tongue. You felt Tyler give your hand a squeeze under the table.

“Um, well I’m from long island. I’ve been an athlete my whole life, and I’m a pro wrestler for AEW right now.”

“You don’t have to listen to him.” Your cousin tells Tyler, glaring at your uncle. “He’s just trying to be aggravating.”

“No I’m not. I’m just curious about this kid. What’s it like being a wrestler?”

“It’s pretty cool. I mean, it’s not easy. A lot of physical strain on the body. It’s pretty demanding but I love it at the same time.”

“I have a question.” Your aunt chimes in. “How did you two meet? Long Island is a long ways away from here.”

“I went to a show and we ran into each other afterwards.” You tell her.

“So you were a fan?” Your uncle asks. “Is she the only fan you’ve dated?”

You peered your eyes at him from across the table, picking up on his tone immediately.

“She is.” Tyler says.

“Well that’s cute.” Your grandma adds from a little ways down the table.

“I imagine a lot of girls probably throw themselves at you.” Your uncle added.

“Not really, no.” Tyler denied, squeezing your hand under the table again.

“I don’t believe that.” He chuckled. “You’re a good looking kid and you probably meet a lot of girls whenever you’re traveling, right?”

“Well, yeah but-“

“I’m just making sure my niece is in good hands. You can understand that. We don’t know that much about you so-“

“Honey, can you leave Tyler alone and just eat your food. We’re all having a nice time. Let’s not ruin it with all these questions.” Your aunt chipped in, and for a second you were thankful for that, but you should’ve known your uncle wasn’t gonna bite his tongue that much.

“Oh, you mean this dry ass ham?” He stabbed his fork into a piece. “Emily, I told you to leave me in charge of the ham and turkey for a reason.”

“Fuck you, Bryce!” She spat, throwing her fork down on the plate.

The energy in the room shifted immediately. You felt your stomach twisting up in those tight knots all over again. The pure embarrassment was what was really overwhelming you.

“Here we go.” Your cousin rolled her eyes before she chugged her drink.

You glanced at Tyler who dropped his head down, clearly uncomfortable with the tensions that were quickly brewing in that dining room.

“Don’t start your shit.” Your uncle snapped back.

“Maybe just be thankful you have a wife who puts all of this together for the family then!” Your aunt retaliates.

“Guys, stop.” Your brother piped up. “Just eat so we can get this over with.”

“Get this over with? Is that all thanksgiving is to you all? Just something you have to drag your asses to my house for?!” Your aunt started up, and once she starts you already know there’s no stopping.

“I didn’t mean it like that.” Your brother tries to alleviate the tensions.

“Yes he did.” Your uncle adds. “You don’t have to lie to her.”

“Stop while you’re ahead, Bryce.” Your aunt snapped.

“It’s the truth, Emily. Half of us at this table don’t even like each other!”

“Hey, that’s fucked up.” Your cousin piped up again.

“Am I lying?” Your uncle shrugged.

“I love all of y’all.” Your grandma added from the end of the table.

“You were just talking trash about everyone in this room.” Your mom put in her two cents, calling out your grandma.

You looked at Tyler again, and he looked over at you. He could read your mind in that moment in seemed like, cause as soon as everyone started going after each other, he took you by the hand and snuck you out the dining room.

Everyone was too caught up in the arguments to notice the two empty chairs left at that table, and you were just thankful to be out of that house.

You walked to the car and he opened your door for you before he got in the drivers seat.

“Please tell me we’re leaving.” You sighed. He stayed silent for a moment before he spoke, probably trying to figure out what the hell he just witnessed.

“You should still say goodbye to your family. I don’t think it would be right if we just left without telling anyone.”

“They won’t notice.” You tried to persuade him. “And I’m so sorry that you had to see all this tonight. This is what I was scared of.”

“It’s not your fault.” He says. “Don’t be sorry for anything, baby.”

“I was so worried you weren’t gonna be able to deal with all this. I mean, your family is nothing like mine. They’re so nice to each other and I just didn’t want you to think differently of me because mines kinda crazy.”

“First, nothing can make me think any different about you. I love you and that’s not gonna change. Second, you think my family isn’t crazy, but all families are. My parents argue sometimes. Sometimes it gets bad enough that my mom throws food at my dad and he has to sleep on the couch. You didn’t see that cause they were on their best behavior when you were there.” He chuckles.

“But they’re a little crazy too. You’ll see that eventually, unfortunately. Maybe Christmas.” He shrugs. “Christmas is usually the craziest holiday at my parents house.”

“You want me there for Christmas?” You couldn’t help the smile breaking out.

“Of course I do.” He nods. “You’re my girl, I want to spend every holiday with you.”

You felt your heart melt, leaning over to place a gentle kiss to his lips that lingered for a few sweet seconds.

“Plus, my mom said if I didn’t bring you she was gonna be mad at me. She wants to bake stuff with you, and I think you have more presents under the tree than I do.” He grins.

“Tell her I can’t wait.” You beam, placing another kiss to his lips.

[daffodilsonaprettystring]

An Incomplete List: Things I need to be in the RWRB movie

(Including things we already know will be in it because god I’m so excited)

Basically this will just be me listing all my favorite parts of the book so I apologize in advance for how long this will be I’m brainrotting HARD rn)

1. The callback between Henry asking June (maybe Nora tho now) to waltz and then later telling Alex he hates waltzing at the V&A idk why but this is important to me

2. PLEASE a flashback of baby Alex seeing the picture of baby Henry in the J14 magazine I WOULD LOVE TO SEE THAT

3. Henry’s (and Alex’s) insomnia (because I am also an insomniac and it’s an important part of their characters I feel)

4. ALEX’S GLASSES PLEEEEEASE

5. Star Wars including the Leia and Han references/mural and Henry’s favorite movie being Return of the Jedi because THATS MINE TOO❤️❤️ and also “bit short for a stormtrooper”

6. CORNBREAD AND STUFFING CORNBREAD KNOWS MY SINS HENRY buy a summer home in Majorca with the turkey Mr Wobbles and David picture from Henry and their cute little “we’ve obviously got crushes but we’re ignoring it” phone goodbye

7. EVERYTHING ABOUT NEW YEARS BUT ESPECIALLY ALEX TRYING TO GET HENRY TO DANCE AND HENRY JUST GAY PANICKING

8. Nora’s extrapolated data about Alex’s obvious crush lmao

9. RED ROOOOOOOOOM

10. “Fucking eyelashes” and also “good to know. I am very, very gay.”

11. The stupid titles they use in their emails like His Royal Horniness and Alex First Son of Off-Brand England

12. BABY and LOVE and SWEETHEART I normally hate pet names (minus love I adore that one always) but I am a SUCKER for Firstprince pet names specifically

13. I’d love to see a flashback to young Henry coming out to Bea even for just a second

14. I NEEDNEEDNEED a shot like this in the movie

(Art by vkellyeart) but yes give me a shot like this where they’re on opposite ends of the world “two parentheses enclosing 3700 miles”

15. “Say good morning to your strumpet, Henry.”

16. So I know we won’t get the Hoe Dameron and Prince Buttercup kimonos anymore (sadness) but LET NICHOLAS GALITZINE BELT HIS HEART OUT TO QUEEN I BEG

17. Since we don’t get Cash wearing one SLAP A BRIGHT PINK FEATHER BOA ON AMY PLZ

18. Bea’s lime green drop-waist Wimbledon dress with gold honeybee Gucci sunglasses fight me Ellie Bamber would rock that look

19. So I know we know they don’t dance to Your Song in the V&A but I hope Henry still plays it on the piano or at least it plays somewhere in the movie cuz i love that song also JUST HENRY PLAYING PIANO IN GENERAL PLZ AND LET ALEX LOOK AT HIM WITH SEVERE HEART EYES and then Henry falling asleep on Alex and Alex just laying awake like Well Shit

20. “Most things are awful most of the time, but you’re good.”

21. Alex’s vocabulary apparently only being expletives when Zahra busts in on him and Henry lmao and “yes we can unpack the ironic symbolism later GO” and also “I thought you were getting into international relations or something” “I mean technically—“ “if you finish that sentence I’m gonna spend tonight in jail” 😂😂

22. THE POWERPOINTS HAHAHAH and “You need to figure out if you feel forever about him”

23. “Should I tell you that when we’re apart, you body comes back to me in dreams?” Speech and also the story about the prince with his heart outside his body that met the most dashingly gorgeous peasant boy who said absolutley ghastly things to him that made him feel alive for the first time in years

24. “Sometimes you just jump and hope it’s not a cliff” and “But the thing is, jumping off cliffs is kinda my thing. That’s the choice. I love him, with all that, because of all that. On purpose. I love him on purpose.”

25. Dear Thisbe, I wish there weren’t a wall. Love, Pyramus

26. Obtuse fucking asshole and “I fucking love you, okay?” And “when have I ever, since the first instant I touched you, pretended to be anything less than in love with you?” And “I want you— then fucking have me— but I don’t want this” and ok basically you get it their whole goddamn rain-drenched love confession scene

27. The morning after, when Henry says that all the royal shit of “fine” isn’t good enough for him and tells Alex he wants him to help him try to be happy and the chance of a life? That’s one of my favorite scenes if not my absolute favorite and I don’t even know what I need out of it but I know I need it to be PERFECT, including Henry sayings he’s been in love with Alex since they met❤️❤️

28. Prince Consort Road picture plzzzz and everything that happens in the V&A but ESPECIALLY them dancing and “taking a picture of a national gay landmark and a statue”

29. “I want you to know, I’m sure. A thousand percent.” And “I completely fucking love you”

30. AN INCOMPLETE LIST. IF WE DONT GET ALEX NARRATING THE INCOMPLETE LIST WITH A HENRY MONTAGE IN THE BACKGROUND, WHAT WAS THE POINT OF THE MOVIE????

31. “You and me and history, remember? Because you’re it, okay? I’m never gonna love anybody in the world like I love you.”

32. I want Ellen’s reaction to Alex being outed, and Zahra’s as well, with both of them being so supportive. But especially “do you feel forever about him?” “Yeah, I do.”

33. “I won’t lie. Not about this. Not about you.”

34. The crowd outside the palace and the crowds around the world supporting Henry and Alex oh my god i just know imma cry there

35. “You are the absolute worst idea I’ve ever had” Alex’s speech “America: he is my choice.”

36. The suitor pictures

37. Henry’s yellow rose of Texas tie

38. Alex taking Henry to his childhood home is a very small wish but I’d still love to see that

39. Finally, I REALLY hope the movie gives us some kind of epilouge like I don’t even care what kind I just want a future thing where we see them happy in the future at a wedding or literally just sitting together I don’t even care I just want one❤️❤️

I am SO sorry this turned out a lot longer than I expected but goddamn I love this book and I’m so excited for the movie my brain needed something to do lmao

[returnsandreturns]

OKAY, i'm revisiting senator!foggy

“Why do we never walk briskly down a hallway while we talk like in The West Wing?” Karen asks, apropos of nothing, as she shoulders her way into the office balancing a stack of folders and a tray of four coffees—one latte for Foggy, one latte for her, and two black coffees for Matt.

“We’re too poor to have long hallways,” Matt says. “Get incumbent levels of funding and we can do that.”

“I think one of us would have to seduce an oil executive,” Foggy says, turning to raise his eyebrows at Karen. “Do you have something you need to briskly talk about?”

“Fisk is calling you a, quote, ‘godless communist,’” Matt says, distractedly.

“Oh, come on,” Karen says, huffing as she sinks into a chair in front of Foggy’s desk. “I wanted to say godless communist. Y’know, there’s no real reason for both of us to have Google alerts for Foggy’s name. I can handle the press stuff.”

“Matt has to know everything about all things all the time or he’ll die,” Foggy says, fondly, grabbing his cup and taking a long, scalding drink. “Thanks for this, Karen. We really worried about the communist thing?”

“It won’t stick,” Matt says, shaking his head. “You’re running on popular policies that are only trending upwards. Just push your voting rights stuff more to show that, unlike your opponent, you actually do give a fuck about democracy.”

“. . .we could sell that, actually,” Karen says, after a beat, shuffling through her pile to pull out a notebook. “Fisk has been part of blocking voting rights legislation for, what, decades?”

“Centuries,” Matt says, darkly.

“I think I’ve got something good,” Karen says, already scribbling fiercely even while she’s standing up and walking over to steal Foggy’s office, adding before she shuts the door behind her with her foot, “I’ll let you know when I’m finished. Maybe we can livestream it.”

“Drink your coffee,” Foggy says, sliding a cup in front of Matt, feeling a little weak when Matt smiles tiredly at him.

“Are there—”

“Two,” Foggy says, nodding. “I disapprove.”

“I’ll quit cold turkey when you’re in Congress,” Matt says, smiling when Foggy bursts out laughing.

“You fucking liar,” he says, wondering internally for the five hundredth time whether it’s a scandal for a candidate to be in love with his campaign manager if he’s not married and if he’s been in love with that campaign manager for most of his adult life. Probably not. Maybe a little more since Foggy’s not exactly out but his life really isn’t interesting enough to have a scandal, gay one or not.

That doesn’t make it any easier, though.

“Can I call him a soulless capitalist?” Karen says, opening the door and peering out.

“No,” Matt says.

“Fuck,” she murmurs, immediately shutting it again.

“Gotta say,” Foggy says. “I kind of like soulless capitalist.”

“Your Twitter following is saying it for you in droves,” Matt says. “Let them stay in the mud. You just—smile and look pretty and above the fray.”

“You saying I’m pretty, Murdock?” Foggy asks, grinning at him.

“Gorgeous,” Matt says, dryly.

Honestly, sarcasm is better than nothing.

[stinkrascal]

i hate my upstairs neighbors actually. why do they feel the need to host a wwe wrestling match directly above my bedroom every day at 2pm

[the-iceni-bitch]

A Very Thrombey Thanksgiving

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)

Words: ~4.4K

Summary: The Holiday season starts off with a bang when Harlan invites some unexpected guests to the turkey day festivities.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (m and f receiving oral sex, hand job, public sex, caught kink, exhibitionism, rough sex, anal play, unprotected vaginal sex, cum play, cream pie, injuries during sexy activities), awkward family dynamics, mentions of exes, alcohol consumption, teasing about upcoming events, SMUT!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: We’re slowly moving forward with my plans for these two, and there’s gonna be so many shenanigans. I feel like all of you are gonna hate me a little before we get to where we’re going, but it’s fine.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!

“Ran, don’t you dare come in my hair, I just washed it!” Your voice was muffled since your face was buried between his ass cheeks, but the scowl on your face got your point across.

He just grinned down at you as he continued grinding himself against your mouth, your lips sucking softly at his asshole as he stroked his cock over your face.

Thank god you two had found some way to distract yourselves when you were sequestered with his family for the whole damn week of Thanksgiving. As much as you loved spending quality time with Wanetta and Harlan, dealing with the rest of your boyfriend’s family complaining about rich white people problems for a whole seven days was set to drive you insane. Hence, the maybe excessive sexcapades you two were engaging in.

“Oh, shit, babe.” You shoved your tongue into his pretty hole and he felt his balls start to tighten. “Honey, if you don’t want me to get cum in your hair you gotta let me back up.”

You released your grip on his thighs with a halfhearted huff, smiling when he scooted down to straddle your chest. His hand started jerking faster over his cock until he was shooting thick ropes of cum all over your face and neck, groaning when you opened your mouth to try to catch everything he was giving you.

“Good for you, Ran?” You teased, scraping your nails over the inside of his thigh when he rolled off you.

“Baby, fuck.” He was panting as he looked down at you, grabbing your hand when you brought it up to gather his cum and scoop it into your mouth. “Nu-uh, I want that mess all over your face while I make you scream.”

Your question died on your lips when he gripped your thighs and hoisted your knees over his shoulders, keeping your upper body resting against the mattress when he started mouthing at the insides of your legs. The flat of his tongue was dragging over your pussy at a torturous pace until you were arching into his face.

“Ran, ah, fuck, yes!” He started sucking softly on your clit and you had to reach up and grip his hair tightly to keep him in place, your other hand reaching over your head and gripping the sheets painfully while your thighs clamped around his head.

It was slightly ridiculous how easy it was for him to turn you into a desperate mess, your pussy already starting to flutter against his lips as he ate you out like your cunt was the most delicious thing he had ever tasted. And honestly, to him it was. His low growl when you started rolling your hips against his face was not helping you at all. Shockwaves started traveling up your spine and bursting at the base of your skull and you started chanting his name like a prayer.

His tongue slid inside you and your muscles tightened so hard it was almost painful, one of his hands traveling down until it was digging into your tit. You threw your head back against the bed and screwed your eyes shut as he brought you closer, a wanton scream bubbling in your chest as his mouth took you apart.

Your pleasure was right there when you heard the door knob turn and your eyes shot open, fully prepared to cuss out Linda for trying to interrupt your well deserved alone time with her son.

But it wasn’t Linda who pushed the door open.

“Surprise!”

“Mom?” Your voice was upsettingly small when your mother walked through the door and the smile on her face immediately fell, though that was nothing compared to the squeak you let out when you got a look at who was standing behind her. “Daddy?!”

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion after that.

Ransom only registered you saying the word “daddy” with how lost he was in the smell and taste of you, breaking away from you for just a second with the intention of teasing you mercilessly. He didn’t get a chance to register what exactly was going on though when you started flailing wildly, trying your best to cover your body at the same time you attempted to wipe the rest of his cum off your face. You were so panicked you didn’t even notice when your frantically moving heel caught him in the nose, sending him sprawling backwards off the bed with a curse while you rolled yourself in the sheets to try to regain some modesty.

Your poor parents were just taking in the scene in a state of disgusted shock as you rolled over and buried your face in the pillows, not wanting to make eye contact with them. This was absolutely not the way you had planned on Ransom meeting your family.

“Jesus, babe. A full body seizure and a spontaneous ‘daddy’? I don’t think I’ve ever made you come that hard before.” Ransom’s face was smeared with blood when he rose to his knees with a wobble. “I think you broke my nose… ah, shit.” He finally spotted your parents and sank back down to the floor, cursing himself in his head when he gave them an awkward wave.

This could not be worse. At least you had an excuse to break the uncomfortable eye contact so you could examine Ransom, wrapping a sheet tightly around yourself before scooting to the edge of the bed and lifting his face so you could look at his nose.

“Fuck, we’ve gotta get you to urgent care.” You sighed, leaning towards the bottom of the bed and grabbing his jeans. “Mom, dad, can we…”

“We’ll see you when you get back, sweetie.” Your mother was trying to keep a fake smile plastered on her face, but you could see her chin starting to wobble. And your dad was looking at Ransom like he wanted to kill him.

They finally left and the two of you got dressed in awkward silence, Ransom doing his best to keep his head tilted back. You rushed out of the house as quickly as you could, avoiding talking to anyone as you practically ran to the beemer.

“How bad is this?” Ransom kept the washcloth pressed tightly to his nose as he looked at you sideways.

“Not great. My mom is probably going to be on the verge of melodramatic tears the whole damn night. And my dad will just give you the murder glare.” Your grip on the steering wheel was almost painful. “What the fuck are they even doing here? I thought they were supposed to be in Greece.”

“Harlan wanted to surprise you.” He had tried to convince his grandfather it wasn’t a good idea, but the man loved you and thought that having your family around for the holidays would be nice. And he had been adamant Ransom should get to know your family with what he had planned. “You know he can have a blind spot when it comes to uncomfortable family dynamics.”

“God, that man is too sweet for his own good.” You had been looking forward to a holiday season away from your overbearing parents. “And now we have to go to urgent care for another sex related injury, what a great Thanksgiving.”

“Fuck, do you think they remember us?” That had been an interesting night.

“No, I’m sure they see lots of people whose muscles spasmed them into ridiculous positions while they try to work through the encyclopedia of porn positions.”

It was two hours later when you finally arrived back at the manor, Ran’s nose fortunately not broken but still fixed in a brace that thankfully no one commented on when you walked back through the front door. Ransom cleared his throat awkwardly when he saw your father giving him a dirty look, wincing when he tried to nuzzle into your hair like he normally would and pain shot through his face.

“Baby, I have to work on the food.” You rubbed your hand over his chest and brushed your lips over his throat when you noticed how nervous he was, pressing your body into his and waiting for him to relax before letting out a deep breath. “You don’t have to talk to him, just get drunk. That’s what I’m gonna do.”

He let out a sad little whine when you disconnected from him, weighing the pros and cons of trying to talk to your father who still looked like he was trying to figure out the best way to hunt Ransom for sport. You took a deep breath as you prepared to head into the kitchen, where you were sure your mother had taken over all of your careful preparation.

“Hello honey!” Yep, she was working on pulling the potatoes off the stove right now after pulling your Brussels sprouts out of the oven and frowning at them. “I hope everything went well at urgent care, I figured I’d work on everything while you were gone. Could you hand me the salt?”

“They don’t need salt mom, they’re glazed with balsamic.” You grabbed the bourbon as you moved to check on your cranberries, sighing as you adjusted the heat and giving them a hefty pour before straining the potatoes.

“Whatever you think, sweetie, just trying to help. Make sure you run those long enough to get rid of the lumps.”

“Yes mother.” You took a chug of bourbon before starting the mixer, loving that now you had to deal with gentle criticism disguised as advice for the rest of the night. If you didn’t love Harlan so much, you would’ve been pissed at him.

Ransom shoved his phone back in his pocket hurriedly in the other room and hoped the flush creeping up his neck wasn’t too obvious, even though he was sure your father noticed it with the way he was glaring at him. He didn’t know how he could’ve forgotten what his home screen was when he had pulled out his phone to show your dad pictures of the Vermont cabin, the photo of you with his cock resting heavy on your face as you sucked on his balls popping up before he could hide it and making him want to jump out a window.

Harlan motioned for him to follow him to the office and he could have kissed the man, muttering some meaningless sentiment to your dad before rushing off. When the door closed behind him he sank into one of the plush chairs with a deep moan, burying his face in his hands and trying not to hate himself too much as he thought about how much your parents must hate him.

“Well, how’s it going?” Harlan tried not to chuckle at the venomous look his grandson shot him, patting the younger man on the shoulder and moving to the desk to grab what he needed. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, son, everyone is a little awkward the first time meeting the parents.”

“I feel like maybe, if I had more time to prepare…” Ransom just sagged into the chair and sighed as he shook his head slowly. “Thank god she doesn’t give a shit about other people’s opinions.”

“Well, you still should get to know them.” Harlan hefted the small velvet box and walked back towards his grandson, smiling warmly at him as he took it from him and ran his fingers over the box almost reverently. “You know when you’re going to ask, then?”

“Yeah, I figure our anniversary is as good as it can get, especially since we’re gonna be in St. Lucia.” Ransom flicked the box open and sighed when he got a look at the ring, trying not to let his nerves take over. “I’m fucking terrified.”

“That’s good. If you weren’t in love you wouldn’t be so scared.” Harlan moved to the door and Ransom stood to follow him, shaking his head when his grandfather gave him another grin. “Still don’t see why you couldn’t have asked your great grandmother for the ring yourself.”

“Are you kidding? She’s insanely nosey. You and me have our own little thing that can account for private discussions but if she thought I was sneaking off to talk to Wanetta alone she’d get suspicious.” He followed Harlan out into the hall and stopped short when you were right there waiting for him, shoving the ring into his cardigan and praying you hadn’t been paying too much attention. “Shit. Hey baby!”

“The fucking… oh, I’m sorry.” You rolled your eyes when your mother shot you a disapproving look at your use of the swear, grabbing the front of Ransom’s shirt and yanking him into you so you could nuzzle at his throat. “The food is ready.”

“Ok.” He choked a little when you grabbed his ears and pressed your lips to his, swallowing your annoyed huff at not being able to deepen it as much as you normally would and groaning at the taste of bourbon on your tongue. “Are you drunk already?”

“Pretty close.” You wound your fingers through his as you walked towards the dining room, pasting a fake smile on your face and clenching your jaw when you saw your mother adding pepper to your gravy. “If I get called dear one more time, I’m gonna lose it.”

“Could you pass the butter, dear?” Ransom squeezed your hand when you growled through your smile, sinking into his seat while you handed the butter to your mother before sitting next to him. “Thank you, just felt like they needed a little more.”

“I put a whole pound in, but fine.” You muttered under your breath and shook yourself out, scooting closer to Ransom and poured yourself a hefty glass of wine.

Harlan grabbed the knives so he could start carving the turkey, expertly avoiding what could have been a fist fight if he had let Walt and Richard argue over who got to do it. You accepted the grudging compliments over how good everything looked from Linda and Donna, Joni giving an exaggerated monologue about how impressive it was that you cooked all of this while your mother murmured how it was impressive but would have been better if you had seasoned everything a little more.

“Why don’t we all say what we’re thankful for?” You shot Harlan a grateful smile as everyone started dishing things up, plating some stuffing for yourself while you leaned a little on Ransom. “I’m thankful to have my whole family here for the holidays, and new fa… friends too.” The older man gave Ransom a sheepish grin when he almost slipped up.

Everyone went around the table and said what they were thankful for, then. Walt was thankful for how well the new book was doing, Linda was thankful for being able to open a new office for her real estate firm, Joni went on for five minutes about how wonderful it was to be able to reach new markets with Flam until Meg cut her off to say how thankful she was for how well school was going while Jacob called her an SJW under his breath. You took another swig of wine when it was your parents’ turn, gripping Ransom’s thigh hard in preparation for whatever sneaky dig they were going to manage to get in.

“Well, I’m thankful for the troops and all they’re doing to keep us safe while they can’t be with their own families.” Everyone murmured soft agreement to what your father said as you fought to not roll your eyes, you knew exactly where this was going.

“That’s so true, dear. I think we’re all thankful for everything they do for us.” Your mother shot you a meaningful look over her glass of wine and you did your best to not snarl openly.

“I’m thankful I finally have someone I don’t feel like I have to change my personality to make happy.” You stared right at your mother as you leaned against Ransom’s shoulder, squeezing his arm as he rested his head against yours while he ate.

“I’m thankful for you too, babe.” He was already done with this stupid nose brace, hissing when he tried to kiss your hair and he bumped it again, growling with annoyance until you turned your face so you could press your lips to his cheek.

“Oh, how nice.” Your mother patted your father’s hand when he stared daggers at your boyfriend, giving you a strained smile and taking a calming breath. “You’ll never guess who we saw when we were in New York.”

“Oh, I bet I will.” You muttered under your breath and took a big gulp of wine as you steeled yourself.

“Steve.” She continued like she hadn’t heard you, beaming at you in what might have been mistaken for sincere affection if you didn’t know what game she was playing. “He’s doing really well, they’re doing a profile on him next month for that fancy news channel you like. He asked how you were doing.”

“Uh-huh, and what did you tell him?” You took a mouthful of potatoes to cover your growl and slid your hand slowly up Ransom’s thigh.

“Oh, you know, just how well your practice and the charity are doing.” Your mother shrugged innocently and avoided making eye contact with you.

“And nothing about how I’m living with someone and actually happy for the first time in years?”

Ransom hoped no one noticed when he choked on a bite of stuffing when you grabbed his crotch suddenly, very aware of the fact that his great grandmother’s ring was in his pocket a mere inches away from your hand and trying to turn his hips so you wouldn’t find it while you started petting his cock until you felt it starting to get hard.

“I’m sorry, who is Steve?” You weren’t sure how to feel about how interested Linda seemed at the mention of your ex, so you just decided to turn all your focus to getting her son off under the table.

Everyone started exclaiming excitedly when they found out you used to date everyone’s favorite senator, asking what he was like and if he was really that handsome in real life. Poor Ransom just started coughing when he almost inhaled gravy as you slowly drew his cock out of pants and started jerking him off under his napkin, managing to put off his family’s feigned concern before they all started in on you again about your ex.

He was trying so hard not to moan and just completely let go when you swiped your thumb over his tip, overly aware of your parents sitting right across from him and the ring in his pocket as he forgot all about eating and focused on not letting anyone else figure out that you were about to make him come all over himself, and not let you feel that he had the ring just an inch away from where your hand was stroking over his length. Then you gave him an even harder squeeze and he couldn’t bite back the soft moan that fell from his lips, screwing his eyes closed and shoving his hand over his mouth to try to muffle the other noises threatening to spill from him.

“Are you alright, son?” Of course Harlan noticed how squirmy Ransom was being, damn him and his empathy.

“I’m great, food is so… god.” He could’ve started crying when you choked his cock right under the tip, shaking him a little and biting your lip when you felt precum starting to leak all over your fingers. “It’s all so good.”

“Oh shoot, I dropped my napkin.” You grinned wickedly at him as you started sliding towards the floor, winking at him when he started shaking his head at you and just giving him an extra enthusiastic squeeze until he dropped his head back and sighed.

He slapped his palm against the table when you wrapped your lips around his tip and sucked until he was shooting his cum into your mouth as he let out a deep groan, gesturing at the food to try to cover while you kept mouthing at him until he was spent. You gave him another cruel smirk as you climbed back into your chair while his chest heaved in deep breaths, ignoring the inquisitive glances your parents were giving you and pressing your lips to his softly as you tucked him back into his pants. Ransom couldn’t stop himself from moaning when he tasted himself on your tongue, desperately fighting the instinct to pull you into his lap and finger fuck you when he dragged his eyes open and saw both your parents and his mother giving him mildly disappointed looks.

“Anyway, Steve said he’s going to probably be in Boston doing some press things around the New Year.” Your mother still managed to bring the topic back to your fucking ex, her smile only faltering a little bit when you nibbled on Ransom’s jaw as they started to clear the table. “We’re planning on having him over for dinner, you should come. I know he’d love to see you again.”

“Well, if we have availability, we’ll try to make it.” You decided to ignore that the invitation had only been for you, snuggling closer to Ransom and purring when he wrapped his arm around you on instinct.

“Why don’t we all do drinks and dessert in the sitting room?” Harlan was so sweet but damn, the man could really be oblivious to how close to fighting his family could get.

“Yeah, we’ll be right there.” Ransom yelped when you shoved him into the bathroom, chuckling nervously when you slammed the door behind you and dragged him close. “Baby…”

“Fucking Steve.” You muttered under your breath as you stripped out of your leggings and panties, yanking him close once you were done and biting at his throat as you worked at undoing his belt. “I’m so goddamn sick of having to hear about that asshole every time I see my parents. It’s been years, and now I’m fucking living with you and actually happy, so fucking happy.” You did your best to avoid his brace as you pressed your lips to his as you let him back you into the wall with a deep purr.

“Baby… ah shit.” He hissed when you sank to your knees and started rubbing your face over his crotch as you undid his fly, trying to subtly turn his hips away from you at least enough so you wouldn’t feel the ring in his pocket. “Honey, the sitting room is right on the other side of this wall.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” You gazed at him through your lashes as you drew his cock out, pressing kisses all over his shaft and stroking him slowly as he let out a deep sigh. “Why do you care?”

He struggled to come up with an answer when you suckled softly on his tip, groaning and leaning one hand on the wall as his body rolled into your face. Then you grabbed his balls and tugged on them in that way he fucking loved, and he couldn’t stop the shout that bubbled up from his chest.

“Jesus fuck!” He slammed his fist into the wall when you did it again, whining when you released his cock from between your lips and rose to your feet. “God, baby…”

“Is this your pussy, Ran?” You grabbed his hair and forced his face to yours with one hand as you guided his hand between your legs and rocked your hips into his touch, biting at his lips and staring into his eyes as he panted desperately into your mouth.

“What?” He was so conscious of the fact that both your families were right next door, but it was getting harder to care about that when you hooked a leg around his hip and drew him closer.

“I asked if this was your pussy.” You rolled your hips into his again and he moaned against your lips, grinning when his lust blown eyes met yours and you saw all his reserve melt away.

“Fucking right it’s my pussy.” He growled when you grabbed his cock and lined him up, nipping at your tongue when you flicked it between his lips and clutching at your waist as he moved until his whole body was pressed against yours. “All mine.”

“Then fucking take it.” You sank your teeth into his jaw when he drove into you hard with a feral snarl, rolling your hips against his as he started fucking into viciously.

Ransom groaned when you already started fluttering around him, tilting his head back so you could bite at his throat as he pistoned into you so hard the shelves started rattling. His hold on your waist was desperate as he pulled you down on his cock, grinding into your clit at the end of each thrust until you were giving him those beautiful whines he couldn’t get enough of.

You yanked on his hair harshly when he hit you deep, arching your body into his and letting out a sharp cry as you came around his cock hard. He followed you with a shout when he felt you squirt all over his thighs, shoving your body into the wall and slowly rolling his hips against yours as he pumped you full of his cum.

“No, leave it.” You drew his face back up to yours when he started to kneel, tilting your head so you could press your lips to his with a deeply satisfied sigh. “Want you with me the rest of the night, Ran. ‘Cause I’m just yours. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Ransom gave you another brief kiss as you pulled your leggings on, breathing deeply to try to collect himself as he drew his pants back up his thighs before you were opening the door and heading towards the sitting room without making any adjustments to yourself to make it look like you had been doing anything except getting fucked.

He froze a little when he walked in after you and literally everyone gave you looks of disapproval or just knowing, except your father who once again, looked like he wanted to kill Ransom. But then he just shrugged and pulled you close to him when you both settled on the couch and handed him a scotch, it’s not like he was going to ask him to marry him.

[subpar-ghoulfriend]

Let’s have a baby

yandere!EraserMicx PREGNANT!Reader 

A terrible mix up leading to an accidental pregnancy? Or something more intentional? Either way now you were pregnant with (none other than the beloved power couple heroes) Eraserhead and Present Mic’s child. Time to discuss how co parenting is going to work. 

TW: pregnancy, artificial insemination, yandere elements, mentions of stalking, alludes to potential custody battle

You had been avoiding the two men for the past week, which was challenging seeing as they managed to find your phone number, address, and place of work. Any time you blocked their calls they got a new number. Two Pro Heroes versus a twenty something civilian, it was only a matter of time until you were cornered.

Now the couple stood between you and your apartment. You had a long shift at your job as a pet groomer and just wanted to get some rest.

Present Mic was the first to speak. "Hey lil momma, we heard you had work today so we brought you some dinner. We thought we could talk over a nice meal."

You had no response. You were tired, both physically and emotionally. You had been put through the ringer ever since meeting them at your doctors office. It was a total Jane the Virgin situation. You went in for an assessment about some supposed ovarian cysts and unknowing left artificially inseminated. There was a supposed mix up, a digital glitch that somehow merged your chart with the surrogates - apparently your names were super similar. Two weeks later you were called back into the doctor's office and informed of what took place. And now you were in this living nightmare.

And the two heroes had nothing to do with the error. There was totally a surrogate. They hadn't paid off your provider. And why would they? You had never met them - although given their patrols they may have seen you once or twice...

They were tearful when they were informed of the mix up, they had been waiting patiently through the whole process and now everything was thrown in chaos. They offered to compensate you for your service which sent you into a blind rage. They just assumed you would carry a child, a child with half of your DNA, and then give YOUR baby away. Rationally you understood that they had planned to be be the only parents to the child, but that was with a professional surrogate who understood the process, who didn't want the child in their life, just happy to help out a loving couple. But that wasn't you, you grew up wanting to be a mom, and now they would take that from you.

What if they tried to legally take sole custody of the baby? Surely they had some pull in the judicial system. Besides, they were a solid couple with money, while you were alone with no family and working two jobs. The thought made you sick to your stomach.

You were shaking as you tried to push past them. Maybe they would just disappear if you ignored them, a girl could dream. But instead they tagged along inside. Albeit you weren’t fighting them on it, you knew this had to happen eventually.

Aizawa easily found the cluttered dining table in your small apartment. You flinched when the loud one tried to help you shrug off your backpack. Taking a seat on the couch you waited for them to start berating you.

"Come sit at the table, dinner is getting cold," Eraser spoke for the first time.

"I'll eat later, I'm not hungry."

"You may not be, but the baby needs to eat."

You glared, how dare they insinuate you didn't know what your child needed. If your body was hungry, you ate. If you were full the baby was full too.

But, you complied, not wanting to argue, "Fine, but I ate a snack not too long ago."

As you ate, Mic kept you company, picking at some left overs, they clearly ate before their visit. Aizawa was rummaging through your place but you managed to hold your tongue until he began throwing things out of your fridge.

"What are you doing?" You hissed, getting up out of your seat.

"Mic and I will bring you groceries tomorrow. The food you have is barely safe for an adult, let alone a fetus."

"Are you kidding me? It's not like I'm chugging alcohol and living off Twinkies. Hey! I just bought those turkey slices. How is turkey bad?" You whined.

To make sure you wouldn't dig the food out trash he dumped it out of his container.

"Zashi, don't let me forget to empty the trash on our way out. Do you know how much salt is in deli meat? And there's no way you can drink any of this while you're pregnant." He gestures to the cans of soda.

As the frustration built you had to fight back tears. They couldn't come in to your home and start throwing out your things.

"Some of us don't make ridiculous money, I'm buying what I can afford and the doctor never had any problem with my health." You hissed.

Hizashi felt the tension thickening, "Hey hey hey, it's okay. Sho and I will go get you some good stuff. We just gotta watch out for you and baby."

And that was the end of your resolve, you stomped past the Hero and locked yourself in your bedroom. Finally tears began to drip down your cheeks.

Back in your kitchen Mic was chiding his boyfriend for being so tough on you.

"So I should just back down while she stuffs herself with junk food?"

Mic gave him a shrug, showing him a bottle on your counter, "At lest she's taking her prenatal vitamins?"

Grabbing the keys to your apartment Aizawa instructed Mic to wait with you while he got you better groceries. He would make copies of your keys on his was back.

You prayed they would leave soon. You were laying in your bed having cried yourself out. Barely into your second month of pregnancy. You still had to endure this for at least seven more months, but most likely much longer.

Next thing you knew you were opening your eyes and the clock read seven AM. By now your uninvited guests must be gone. Nervously you sat up, praying that you'd skip the morning sickness just once this week. You had always had a weak stomach and even the doctor was surprised you were already experiencing the symptom. Unfortunately the minute your feet touched the floor you knew what was coming. You sprinted to the restroom, not even checking to see if the duo had left.

God this was terrible, you didn't just hate throwing up, you were terrified of it. What if you started and never stopped? But it did come to an end. You wiped the water from your eyes and took a moment before standing from the floor. You screamed when a hand slid under your arm, helping you up. Another set of feet rushed to the bathroom.

" What's wrong?" Hizashi huffed as he skid to a stop.

You pulled arm free from Aizawa's grasp. "What are you two still doing here?"

You turned in the faucet to rinse your mouth. Trying to calm your stress, the nausea was trying to return.

Undeterred the scruff pulled your hair into a bun before rubbing your back. You debated returning to bed but that wouldn't get them out of your apartment. You told them you need to sit down, both of them nodding, still wearing their concerned expressions. They got you a glass of water before joining you on the couch. Stubborn men, you sat at the end of the couch so they couldn't both sit, but Mic decided to perch himself on the armrest.

He started petting your hair, "You feelin better little listener?" You nodded in response.

"I got you more food, let us know if your hungry."

You sighed in defeat, "I'm barely two months pregnant, I can fend for myself. What did you all want to talk about?"

You anxiously placed a hand on your stomach. Both men felt their hearts flutter recognizing your maternal instincts kicking in.

Aizawa let Mic begin, he was the more gentle of the two.

"Well, we figured we got off to a rough start. You got put in a tough situation. We shouldn't have assumed you didn't want a child so we're not mad at how you stormed out. But either way we expect to be in our baby's life. The two of us talked it over and we don't want to fight you if you want to be in their life too. So if you wanna be the mommy we're cool with it."

You could blame your reaction on your hormones for your response but you didn't, "Geez thank you so much for allowing me to be in MY child's life."

Aizawa placed a hand on the back of your neck, giving you a gentle massage. "Okay then, the three of us are gonna have a baby. That means you have to stop ignoring us. We can raise the baby together, without involving anyone else. But if we have to, we can always go the legal route for the baby's best interest." 

He knew it was a low blow, but the couple needed you to stop fighting them. Your eyes snapped to his and you shook your head in protest.

"Okay then we're all the same page," Aizawa reassured you.

Mic cheered, "Now we can focus on the fun stuff."

"Hun," Eraserhead caught his attention. "There's still a few more important things to figure out. We don't want you going back to that doctor. They're incompetent. We scheduled you an appointment with another's clinic for next week. Okay?"

You couldn't find your voice after how easily he threatened to take your baby. So you just nodded. Half listening.

"Good. We also went ahead and programmed our numbers into your phone. We need to be able to check in with you."

"Okay, but I can't use my phone at one of my jobs."

"About that lil momma," Mic started. "You work a lot, which is totally bad ass, but we don't think you leave enough time to rest and take care of yourself."

You tried to protest but Aizawa cut you off, "You also shouldn't be working around so many animals. Even though we love animals, they can be unpredictable and one dog can trigger all the rest into a frenzy."

You were dumbfounded, "I've never heard of anything like that happening. One of my coworkers was pregnant last year, she worked until her maternity leave. Plus I need to be able to pay my bills. And don't offer to compensate me again."

"Why do you have to view it as compensation? We just want to take care of the mother of our child. Just think about it. Mic and I have to go take care of some business but we'll be back later this week."

---

Back at their home Hizashi was dramatically splayed on their bed.

"Babe why are you pouting?" Aizawa asked.

"Why can't we just bring her home already?"

Aizawa sympathized with his better half, but they needed to be methodical. He reminded Hizashi that they didn't need to cause her even more stress, especially so early into the pregnancy. If they played their cards right they would have their happy little family soon enough.

If they could ease you in to the relationship everything would be easier in the long run. They had been managing just fine until now, they could wait a few more months.

He joined Hizashi on the couch. Mic was comforting himself the way he usually did when he felt like this. He was scrolling through the countless photos they had collected since their chance encounter with you over a year ago. 

[readyplayerhobi]

Jung Hoseok and the Magic to Happiness | 06 | End

; Hufflepuff Teacher!Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Word Count: 7.5k

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, potion influence (? what’s the correct term here), unprotected sex (kinda), creampie, Hoseok licks his fingers...

; Synopsis: An unexpected issue with your Ministry of Magic job leads to you taking the role of Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts. It’s here that you meet your best friend’s younger brother for the first time in years, the Hufflepuff Head of House, Jung Hoseok. While you contend with seeing him once again, Hoseok tries to show you that he’s very much a man and no longer the gangly teenager you once knew.

; A/N: Final chapter! We’re finally here. I bet you didn’t think I’d actually finish this series, haha. Two series down though! SO...I’m very rusty with smut. I haven’t written it since like...October so please be gentle with me! I hope you all enjoy this chapter and have liked reading this series! Please reblog it so others can find it and send me comments/reviews/feedback via an ask or by reblogging this! :D I love to read them all and your support has helped to encourage me to keep going.

Last Chapter ; 

-

Surprisingly, you don’t see Hoseok for a few days after the Winter Solstice Ball. He’s not present at any of the meals, nor do you see him around the castle either. It simultaneously confuses and concerns you as you worry that he’s feeling too awkward to be around you.

Seokjin, at a pre-Christmas meal at his house, had tried to confirm that he wasn’t avoiding you but instead was simply busy with preparing the magical creatures for the Christmas break. There were exchanges with other schools around the world that occurred at Christmas, meaning that Hoseok was constantly travelling with his creatures and taking custody of the foreign creatures which would be used for the next semester. 

You’d viewed that with suspicion as you didn’t recall Hoseok nor Jisoo telling you that, but it did seem like a logical reason. Chaeyoung had backed the argument at the time, her mouth half full of roasted turkey. Given your suspicions about their involvement in trying to get Hoseok and you into a relationship had caused you to watch her suspiciously though.

It was only when Jimin, who had also been present for the meal, had confirmed it with a nod of his head that you’d finally believed them. As far as you knew, Jimin had no involvement and he’d genuinely fascinated with how close the two of you had been at the ball.

So even though it made you feel a little paranoid at his sudden absence after the kiss, you chose to trust your friends and believe what they said. You were already concerned about how to just interact with him when you saw him, you certainly didn’t need to obsess over the fact he ‘might’ be avoiding you.

Instead of letting your mind focus on that though, you instead throw yourself into any work you can do. The Christmas break sees most students gone and only a handful remaining behind. Some of those were because they wanted to continue studying or they didn’t want to leave their friends, others were because they didn’t have a stable home to go back to.

It made your heartache to know that some of your students had such poor home lives but it wasn’t something you could do anything about. Instead, you help to organise visits to Hogsmeade for the students so they can get to enjoy some of their break by just having fun and experiencing some of the Christmas cheer.

You’d also got through all the essays that you had to mark and the first month of the new semester had already been carefully planned out for when the students all returned. This meant that you’d done nearly all your work though and there were only so many books you could read without getting bored.

So you offered your services to the other professor’s who had remained behind, figuring that you could help them out while also reducing your boredom. This is why you were currently in the potion storeroom doing a stocktake; recording how many of each ingredient was left, if there were any that were running low or had run out completely, what potions were stored away and how much of each one.

It wasn’t the most interesting job but it helped to take your mind off things and you felt a little useful at least. You’d only been doing it for half-an-hour before you’d quickly realised why no one liked to do this job, though. The storeroom was bigger than it initially appeared and contained multiple shelving units, with each shelf packed full of ingredients, potions and spare potion-making ingredients.

There was a stale smell to the air which mingled with the faint remnants of potions that had been created in the many cauldrons that littered the room. Alongside that, there was so much dust in the room that you genuinely wondered if anyone used this place. Whilst you weren’t one to advocate using magic for stuff that you could just do by hand, there was no reason to not just do a quick cleaning spell in here.

Then again, you’ve never been amazing at potions so maybe that kind of spell might do something to one of the ingredients. So you just carry on, occasionally sneezing whenever you cause a small dust cloud to appear.

You end up so in the zone that you don’t hear the door open and close, nor the soft footfalls of someone walking in closer. This means you shriek in surprise when you hear your name in a familiar, low voice. Jerking forwards, you knock into the shelves in front of you and wince at the sound of glass hitting each other as bottles wobble dangerously.

“Shit!” Cursing, you miss the bottle with a mother-of-pearl sheen that teeters from the top shelf dangerously. Hoseok, obviously concerned with how he’d surprised you, rushes forward to help stabilise the bottles that are on the verge of smashing all around you.

As he grabs one that’s rolling towards the edge, you reach out to stop another one at the exact moment the top bottle drops. It hits your hand hard, bouncing before hitting the shelving unit and shattering. The potion inside splatters all over you, Hoseok and the shelf. Spiralled steams immediately begin to rise from where it impacts and you vaguely remember that amortentia looks like this.

But then you’re cursing loudly, sputtering as you get a mouthful of it. Without meaning to, you swallow it all and cringe as you feel it slide down your throat. The sound of Hoseok choking causes you to look over and you realise he’s got a mouthful of it as well, his face pinched as he sticks his tongue out from the taste of it.

“What was that?” He asks, blinking rapidly before wiping away what has splashed onto his face. For such a small bottle, it had managed to almost everywhere and even some stray strands of his hair were wet; steam rising slowly.

“If I remember my potions correctly...amortentia.” You say, lips twisting as you stare up at the top of the unit. Why this potion had been stored up there was beyond you as there was nothing else up there but dust. At least no other bottles had broken.

“Ah,” He muses before pausing, eyes widening as something clicks in his head. “Wait, isn’t that the love potion thing?”

“It doesn’t cause people to fall in love. If you remember back to your own potions lessons, no potion is capable of causing true love. Instead, it causes intense infatuation or obsess-oh…” Now your own eyes widen as you stare directly into Hoseok’s, warmth curling within your gut and rushing through your veins until your whole body feels hot.

Almost instantly, the two of you look away from each other. Coughing awkwardly, you shift to the other side of the storeroom, a hand pressed to your cheeks in a futile effort to cool them. Instead, they just feel even warmer.

What happened if two people took it? Especially if those two people already liked each other anyway? Did it just negate itself?

The slow burn within you said no and you let out a shaky breath, resting your forehead against the cool wood of the unit next to you.

“I’m sorry...I didn’t mean to scare you. I thought you heard me coming in...I wasn’t being quiet or anything.” Hoseok mutters and you glance over, noting the rosy pink gracing the apples of his cheeks. You wonder if it’s because he feels embarrassed or if it’s because he’s experiencing the same, intense feelings that you are.

Inhaling deeply, you tried to calm yourself only to realise that all you could smell was Hoseok. His scent was so strong that it was like he was standing right next to you instead of being on the other side of the room. Almost immediately, you knew it was the potion.

From what you remembered, amortentia caused those feelings for whoever administered it. Considering neither you nor Hoseok had been the one to serve it, you would’ve thought that it would just negate itself. Instead, it seems to have decided that you’ve both administered it to each other.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. I was too deep into my work,” Giving him a nervous laugh, you try to reassure him so he doesn’t get too worried that he’s done something wrong. “How come you’re here? I haven’t seen you in days.”

“Err, yeah...sorry. I’ve been really busy. I forgot to tell you that we usually start doing magical creature exchanges around Christmas to help educate our students on foreign creatures while also allowing other nations to learn about our creatures. It’s been a little hectic as I’ve been exchanging hippogriff’s, bowtruckles and nifflers with Castelobruxo in Brazil. Which as you can imagine has been a little stressful because I think I’ve almost lost about six niffler’s and almost lost a hand to one of the hippogriff’s.” He turns away from you to tidy up some of the shelves, missing your sigh of relief as you realise everyone has been right.

He hadn’t been avoiding you.

“I’m finished now though, for the moment. It took me longer than I liked as the fire slugs we got from Castelobruxo have been continuously burning their cages but I have that completely fixed now. I thought that I’d come to find you as we haven’t talked in a few days and I got told you were here. So...here I am.” Giving you a weak smile, Hoseok turns to look at you while shrugging.

He looks slightly uncomfortable now; a sheen on his golden tan skin while his face looks redder than normal. His hands grasp at nothing on his sides and you find yourself hyper fixated on them. Have you ever really noticed how long and slender his fingers are? 

Almost immediately, you imagine those fingers somewhere else and almost moan out loud as you clench inner muscles around nothing. Was this a normal side effect of amortentia? You didn’t know what was happening and you weren’t the best at potions so this was all foreign to you.

At least you’d come to terms with the fact that you were attracted to him and would like to perhaps try a relationship. Otherwise, this would’ve been even more awkward. Not that he knew that yet, which is probably why he’s looking a little distressed.

You don’t feel that it’s the best moment to blurt that out though. Sure, it would reduce any uncomfortableness between you both but was it a good idea to admit you find him attractive too when you’re both suffering the effects of amortentia?

Probably not.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it. A few of the others told me that you’d be busy doing this. I didn’t even know that magical creature exchange was a thing!” Cheerfully, you smile at him when he glances at you.

“Still, I should have told you. I’m really sorry.” He mumbles, reaching out to gently brush a scratchy pouch idly. His insistence at apologising causes you to smile and shake your head amused at how genuinely remorseful he is that he’d forgotten to tell you this one thing.

“Honestly, it’s fine. It’s your job, don’t say sorry for doing your job, okay? You’re a great caretaker for the magical creatures and I’m not surprised you forgot to mention it to me. I don’t tell you stuff about my job all the time because you don’t need to know it! So don’t stress.” Reaching for the checklist that you’d been running through earlier, you note down the broken amortentia potion with a small reprimand for the untidy storeroom.

As such, you don’t see the way Hoseok’s face twists as he forces himself to remain quiet.

The two of you remain silent for the next five minutes or so with you attempting to carry on counting the ingredients and potions on the shelves while Hoseok merely lingers in the background. He was so cute.

It would have been a comfortable silence between you both, like you always had with him, if not for the lingering awkwardness of the untalked kiss and the flaring desire of the potion. Shifting awkwardly, your thighs squeeze together in an attempt to relieve some pressure. It doesn’t work and you have to stifle a groan at the small sharp jolt of pleasure.

“Merlin,” Hoseok whispers, causing you to open your eyes and look over at him. His face is even more flushed and you note a slight sheen to his skin as if he’s too hot. If he’s even remotely as warm as you are then it’s entirely understandable and you wonder what you look like to him.

Blowing out a breath, he attempts to fan his face before pinching some of his shirt and pulling at it to get some cooler air. You can tell it doesn’t work because you’ve been subconsciously doing that for the last minute and all it’s done is cause you to imagine Hoseok’s lips brushing along your chest instead of the poor imitation of a breeze.

What finally tipped you over the edge to deciding you’d done enough counting today was yet another glance over to Hoseok. His tall and lithe form has been almost hidden beneath his robes all this time, but an uncomfortable shift causes him to reveal more of his body.

You weren’t normally such a blatant person but you couldn’t help the way your eyes drag down his body, taking in every crease in his crisp white button-up. The key moment that told you to get out of the room now was when your eyes trailed even further below, taking in the leather of his belt.

And the obvious tent in his trousers.

Swallowing so hard that you choke, you quickly move towards the door. The rush of blood throbbing in your ears drowns out Hoseok’s call of surprise, your focus solely on getting out of the overwhelmingly hot room.

The room with the man you’d very recently had decided you were attracted to both romantically and sexually. Not a good combo when you were almost burning from within with lust for him, especially when you know he’s turned on right now.

Running a hand down your face as you rush through the corridors, you can’t stop the quiet groan that leaves your mouth as you do so. Your clothes feel too tight for your body, almost suffocating and the aching need for fingers or something more between your legs is becoming unbearable. 

“Y/N, wait!” Finally, Hoseok’s voice breaks through, causing you to falter as you almost pause. Even shouting, his voice is low and sends shivers through your body. A tiny whine escapes and you push forwards, almost jogging now in your effort to get back to your quarters.

Maybe a shower would get rid of this. A very cold shower, or a cold bath. You’d make a potion to counteract it but you’re nowhere near good enough to combat an advanced potion like that. 

As your door finally comes into view, and for a moment you marvel at how fast you’ve managed to move from the dungeons that house the potions classroom and the store you’d been working into your quarters.

Not quite fast enough though as Hoseok’s long legs finally let him catch up, his hand reaching out and gently grasping at your arm. He’s touching you through multiple layers of clothing and yet your skin is almost burning, the desire to have him against your bare skin stronger than ever.

You get the feeling that he’s experiencing the same as he suddenly retracts his hand, almost as if he’d burned it and lets out a hiss. The sound is sibilant and low, his breath escaping him quick and you feel a strong urge to hear it once more. 

Still, he doesn’t let his surprise or shock stop him. A look at his face shows you that his expression is a mix of concern and worry beneath the flushed cheeks of lust and glassy eyes of desire. 

“I’m sorry, did I do something? I didn’t mean to if I did. Please don’t run away from me!” He begs, one hand moving out towards you almost like it has a mind of its own. The way he looks at it, with a scowl like it’s doing something wrong, almost makes you laugh as you can understand his frustration.

You’ve had to stop yourself from reaching out to him at least twice now.

Instead, you give him a tense smile and try to ignore the fact that he’s standing a little awkwardly. It takes far more effort than you’d like to not look down because you know it’s because he has an erection that is probably uncomfortable. Something he likely doesn’t want to bring attention to.

“Don’t worry, it’s okay. I promise. I just...I just needed to get out of that room, you know.” You let your words trail off awkwardly, fidgeting with your hands and trying desperately not to look at his crotch. As usual, though, the temptation to look was made all the stronger by your knowledge that you couldn’t just ogle his groin openly.

“Ah...yeah, er, right. It was quite...quite warm.” He pauses in his sentence though, looking a little conflicted and you follow where his eyes are staring. Right down to your chest, which is currently covered by a soft, cream-coloured jumper that you’d happily pulled on this morning.

It feels more than a little stifling right now though.

As soon as he registers where he’s looking, he sputters and starts to resemble a tomato. An absurdly handsome, tall tomato. The longer you let your thoughts linger there then the more stupid they begin to become.

Still, his blatant want fuels your potion addled senses and you start to speak without thinking.

“Do you like me? Romantically and sexually, you know? I’m pretty sure you do. I’m sorry that I didn’t realise, I’m dumb apparently. I know you’ve been trying to subtly tell me for ages now but I finally did! And I liked our kiss and I really want to do it again. Actually, I wanna do more than kiss you-” Hoseok cuts you off by reaching out for your hand, his fingers slightly calloused but still so damn soft.

And hot against you.

“Yes. I like you, a lot. More than you probably realise. I just didn’t want to push you or make you feel awkward-” Now it’s your turn to interrupt him, twisting your fingers until you can thread them through Hoseok’s.

A slight tug has him following you with wide eyes, the door to your classroom being pushed open and closed as soon as he’s inside. Without another word, you push him up against the wood while grasping at his shirt to tug him closer.

Your lips connect with ease and this time, it’s nothing like the previous kiss. Where that was chaste, this had the flames of lust burning deep within and you moaned out as Hoseok licked into your mouth, stoking that heat within you even further. 

Pressing yourself to his body, you let one hand trail along his shirt and sigh as you finally get to confirm that he is exactly as lean and toned as you’d initially thought. Your touch causes him to shiver, breaking away from your lips to press open-mouthed kisses to your jawline almost desperately.

“Hoseok,” Whispering into his ear, you let your other hand run your fingers through his hair before tugging on some of the black strands. “Ah, please.”

You’re not sure what you’re asking him but you don’t care either. Anything he can give you, you’ll take. 

His fingertips scorch your skin as he lets them dance over your waist, slipping beneath your jumper with a hunger he can only show. As he does so, he captures your mouth once more and kisses you with such passion and strength that you’re momentarily left breathless.

Trying to kiss him back with equal fervour while your fingers move to unbutton his shirt, losing grip on them as you refuse to move away to look down. It causes him to laugh into it, the sound pleasant and light, before he gently pushes your hands away.

Pulling away from the kiss, he presses his forehead against your own and gives a breathy smile. Glassy eyes and dilated pupils greet you while his breath hits your skin with each puff as he tries to centre himself. And then he almost looks sad; his brow creasing and the corners of his lips turning down.

“We shouldn’t...not like this. I...I really want, oh fuck I want you so bad. But this wasn’t how I imagined...you deserve better. More romantic or some-” Reaching up, you gently place a finger on his lips to quiet him. He does so instantly and you’re pleased that he doesn’t look annoyed at your interruption.

“It’s not what I imagined either but I’m not turning it down. If anything, I’m glad that potion is helping to bolster my confidence because I doubt I’d have got the courage to do anything. So, please, don’t worry about me. I want you and I’m fully aware of myself. All that potion is doing is bolstering my feelings.” You hadn’t known if that was something he was worried about and you wanted to soothe any fears he might have.

It’d be understandable because part of you is also worried that he’s only doing this because the amortentia potion is fuelling an insatiable need within. The way his eyes widen at your words before his whole body relaxes let’s you know that has been a concern of his, causing you to smile, and reach up to cup his cheeks before pulling him into a quick kiss.

“Now, please carry on and don’t stress. We’ll talk properly after, okay?” Hoseok nods and you bite your lip, trying not to laugh at how eager he looks once more. 

He doesn’t kiss you again though, instead turning and tugging on your hand. Brows rising, you follow him before watching in astonishment as he sweeps your desk clear of any papers or stationery. Part of you wants to complain, but the thought instantly vanishes when he backs you up until you can feel the solid wood against the backs of your thighs.

“Hoseok! My desk? Seriously?” Giggling, you glance around your classroom and feel a little scandalised. The door to your quarters is only a few metres away but he has an almost playful look in his eyes when he grins back at you. You’d protest doing something like this in your classroom louder if it wasn’t for the fact that you were desperate for him.

He doesn’t respond to those comments though, instead reaching out and ghosting his fingers over your cheek. It makes you shiver as you feel that touch all over.

“Once more...you want this, right? You’d want this even without the potion influence?” You wonder how much amortentia addles the mind but you reason to yourself that you’ve thought about this with him for the last week. About him between your thighs, deep inside you and pleasing you.

“I want it. I’ll want it after, too.” Purposefully lowering your voice, you look at him from beneath your lashes before reaching out and hooking your fingers around his belt. Now he’s the one laughing, the sound low and husky as he lets you pull him forward.

As if you’re magnetically attracted, your lips meet his once more and you sigh into his mouth as he pressed himself against you. Whimpering, you slide your hands around his waist and try to pull him closer. A wiggle on the hard surface has Hoseok’s erection pressing onto your clit, causing you to moan out.

He mirrors the noise, the sound hoarse from his throat and you find yourself grinding against him as well as you can. It doesn’t quite work as you have nothing to brace your legs with but neither of you seems to mind. Thankfully though, Hoseok seems to understand and begins a slow roll of his hips that drives you wild.

But it’s not enough though and you shift away from him, dragging your hands down his front and enjoying the way he moans as your nails scrape through his shirt. Reaching his belt, you fumble to undo it and frown in frustration as you struggle with it.

“Let me,” Hoseok says, undoing the buckle with practised ease and slipping the leather through the meal. The sound of it sparks something inside you, causing you to writhe on the desk and beg him to hurry up. A quirk of his lips tells you that he’s amused at your insistence.

Before he does anything else though, he reaches forward and pushes your skirt along your thighs. The soft material only adds to the overstimulation of your already wired body, causing goosebumps to form all over. 

His fingertips on the freshly exposed skin feel even better though, the sensitive skin of your inner thighs sparking fireworks of pleasure and delight at his touch. Letting your head fall back, you just let yourself focus on the feelings and whine softly, pussy clenching around nothing. 

Under normal circumstances, you would want to explore all of Hoseok and have the favour returned in full. You’d want the full experience with plenty of foreplay; his mouth and fingers delving into places that only he’s allowed to see.

You’re too desperate though and you pull your skirt up, shifting until you’re laying back on the desk and trying to tug your underwear off. It’s hard to do on the desk though and you’re thankful when Hoseok takes over, his fingers hooking into the soft material and then you’re feeling cool air.

“Fuck.” He curses, eyes focused solely between your legs. You’re almost embarrassed to realise how wet you are, the underwear in his hands sporting a prominent damp batch that has a shiny spot you can see even from here. 

Being this close to him and now being half-naked, you want him more than ever and you try to grasp at his wrist, needing him to touch you down there. Anything you can get, you’ll take. Hoseok lets you take his hand, guiding his fingers until they’re pressing against the hardened nub of your clit.

The sound you let out is obscenely loud as you move his hand until he’s touching you in just the right way to send arrows of pleasure through your body. Letting go, you let him carry on and enjoy the heat of him on you, sighing in relief at finally getting what you wanted.

It’s not enough though and you try to shift your hips, lifting them in an attempt to line his fingers with your entrance. He can tell what you’re trying to do though and grins, the expression causing his cheeks to rise while his eyes sparkle down at you.

“Do you just want to do it? You’re already really wet.” He asks, raising a brow and you nod quickly. You don’t want to waste any more time and the thought of having his cock in you is more than you can bear. It doesn’t stop you from whining in displeasure as he takes his hand away to finish undoing his trousers.

To try and combat that, you let your fingers take over from where he was. You know your body better than anyone and almost instantly you’ve got a good rhythm going. The sight of him before you, cheeks flushed with his hair looking ruffled and his shirt creased, is unbelievably erotic.

Unzipping his trousers, he pushes them down his thighs alongside his underwear. You don’t even get to see what kind he wears but you find that you don’t care. Beneath the ends of his white button-up shirt, a prominent erection stands proudly towards you. The tip is swollen and red, unsurprising given how long he’s had it for now.

He’s not the longest, nor the thickest, but you don’t care. Hoseok’s cock is quite possibly the most perfect thing you’ve seen at that moment and all you want is for him to be inside you.

Before you can vocalise that though, he’s suddenly grabbing his wand before his trousers fall to the floor. Resting the tip on your belly, he mutters a quick spell and you realise that he’s got more control of himself than you do as he’d remembered to cast a contraceptive spell. A second spell on both you and him protects you from any diseases or infections, after which he practically throws his wand to the side.

You’d protest his lack of care about something so fragile but you can’t bring yourself to care when he moves forward, letting the tip of cock rest against your pussy. The weight, almost surprising given how it defies gravity, is delightful on your clit and he presses it down, moving in a slow roll that has you sighing.

More wetness coats your pussy, which in turn coats him and you grasp one of his hands. Linking your fingers together, you pull him a little closer and mewl as he slides against the sensitive bundle of nerves once more.

“Please, Hoseok. Please” You beg, causing him to smile with satisfaction. 

Placing his free hand on your left leg, he pushes it up a little and out to the side, stretching you open a little more for him. Shivering as the air cools the slick excitement between your legs, you go to protest. It’s cut off though by the feeling of him penetrating you, the blunt head of his cock slipping into you with minimal resistance thanks to how wet you’ve gotten.

Moaning loudly, your eyes close as he stretches you with each inch. It’s been a long time since you’ve slept with anyone and the ragged cry Hoseok pulls from you is directly caused by how good he feels inside you. It’s like you can feel every inch of him as he slides deeper within, the nerves in your walls firing sparks of pleasure continuously until he finally bottoms out.

For a moment, the two of you simply stay in position and bask in the beautiful feeling. You’re panting a little and trying to resist the urge to shift your hips to encourage him to move. One glance at Hoseok tells you to let him move at his own pace.

His face is pinched, brows knitted together and his jaw looking sharper than ever as he clenches his teeth. The fingers wrapped in yours squeeze tightly and after a few seconds, he lets out a guttural groan that sounds as if it was ripped from his gut.

“Shit...Merlin’s beard, you’re so...I don’t know if I’m going to last,” He admits, his cheeks burning redder than ever. “I’m sorry if I don’t. I’ve imagined...this is…” 

Grunting, he slowly pulls out before sliding back into you with one fluid motion of his hips. A broken cry escapes your mouth at the pleasure and you reach down to rub at your clit. You’re just as desperate as he is to orgasm, to feel him thick inside you as you convulse around him while waves of pleasure leave you boneless.

“It’s okay, it’s okay. Just...move. Please.” You reassure him, trying to smile before your eyes roll back into your head at the second thrust. Still, your words let him gain some confidence and he continues to move in slow and steady snaps of his hips, each drag of his cock better than the last.

Lifting onto your elbows, you risk a glance down to take in the sight of him thrusting into you. His cock is soaked with your wetness and you realise suddenly that it’s causing lewd sounds every time he moves. You’d be embarrassed at it but the sound is strangely erotic to you; the knowledge that he’s caused you to become this wet and experience this much pleasure intoxicating.

The two of you don’t speak for a minute or so after that, far too caught up in just enjoying yourselves and all the feelings that course through your bodies. You suppose the potion is a little to blame for the almost selfish nature of the sex, but there’s also more than enough longing and desire on his side mixing with eagerness and attraction on your own.

“Fuck, I think-I think I’m gonna cum.” Hoseok pants out, his whole chest moving as he gasps out from the strenuous effort of sex. His face has a sheen to it and the damper patches on his white shirt indicate how much he’s sweating from it. Probably also a little from just how warm you’d both ended up.

Moaning out in response, you tip your head back against the cool wood of your desk and let your hand do its work. The combination of his cock inside you and your fingers playing on your clit blend together perfectly and you writhe wildly.

“Ah...shit.” His entire body going rigid as he pushes into you as far as he can get. Watching him, you cry out at how beautiful and sexy he looks as he orgasms; his jaw tightly clenched to show off that beautiful line of bone while the tendons in his neck strain. The hand entwined with yours squeezes harder than ever and he seems to just inside you in tiny movements, almost like he’s extending his pleasure without wasting too much effort.

You can feel the subtle twitch of his cock deep within you and the knowledge that he’s orgasming inside you has your fingers swirling on your clit harder and faster than before. Tightening your inner muscles, you relish in the strangled moan Hoseok lets out and the increase of feeling.

Not long after he lets out a final sigh, deeper than anything else, and he strokes his free hand down your thigh. It’s almost an encouraging touch and even though he’s finished, he moves in you with a slow and lazy stroke. The slight wince he has tells you that he’s probably a little overstimulated but he doesn’t complain and you cry out as your whole body tenses up.

Back bowing and head pressing into the desk, you tighten your eyes closed as high pitched whines and breathes escape your throat. Hips rolling in a circular motion, you continue to stroke at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs until the sensation becomes too much. Pulling your hand away, you’re surprised when Hoseok grabs at it suddenly.

He slips out of you, his cock rapidly becoming flaccid nows that’s had his fill and you shift at the sensation of liquid that’s slightly thicker than your excitement beginning to leak from you. The knowledge that it’s come from him is surprisingly arousing and you try to push the thought away.

Something not helped by the fact that Hoseok takes the fingers that had been so busy with your clit and licks them clean, groaning out quietly as he finally gets to taste you. It’s probably not the way he imagined doing it, but Merlin, it’s certainly an attractive way.

“That was good,” He finally says, letting your hand drop and you miss the feel of his tongue already. “Better than I’ve ever imagined...and I imagined it a lot.”

He’s flushed from the intense exercise but the bashful look to his eyes tells you that some of that pink tinge is also from his shyness. You can’t help but grin at the fact he’s getting quiet after just fucking you so hard on your desk.

Sitting up slowly, you stretch and enjoy the satisfying feeling of multiple muscles in your body and the overall sense of contentment that washes through you. Reaching forward, you wrap your arms around his neck after he’s tugged his trousers and underwear back up before kissing him gently.

“How flattering, Professor Jung. I feel honoured.” There’s a hint of teasing in your voice but you keep it light enough to know that you’re not being mean to him. Instead, you’re pleased by his admission that he’s thought of you sexually. Perhaps you don’t want to know about what his teenage fantasies were but you’ll happily accept his adult fantasies.

It works to make him snort a laugh and shake his head, stroking his hands along your waist.

“And as amazing as the sex was...I’m feeling a little tired and sore from the desk. So let’s take this into my quarters, shall we?” Pushing him, you hop off the desk and let your skirt fall back into place. It’s creased now and there’s likely wet stains on the back alongside what will eventually become semen stains too.

Hoseok doesn’t follow you as you move towards the door leading to your bedroom, causing you to turn and give him an arched brow in question. Opening the door without looking at it, you smile brightly before winking.

“Well? Do you want me to be alone in my bed?” Turning away from him, you quickly pull off your shirt and throw it out of the door for him to see. It’s only seconds before you hear the sound of him following quickly, causing you to smile to yourself.

-

Yawning widely, you stretch out your arms and almost hit Hoseok in the face. Toes brushing against his leg as you do so, he lets out a laugh that’s more movement than sound. The rumble of his chest beneath your cheek is comforting and you sigh deeply in contentment. It had been only half an hour or so since you’d had sex and what was likely only three hours since you’d both fucked the first time.

You had to give Hoseok credit; he knew exactly what he was doing.

Just the thought of the frantic sex on your desk had you heating up in dual embarrassment and desire. Embarrassment because...well it was your desk! In your classroom. How were you ever going to look at the table without remembering what had happened on top of it?

The desire was a more obvious, and expected, emotion though. Experiencing that again would be very welcomed on your behalf and you suspected that Hoseok would be just as open to it.

Nuzzling your head into him, you took in a deep breath to get a concentrated dose of Hoseok mixed with sex. It was a heady scent and you squeeze your thighs, feeling the wetness that was still there. 

Despite the horny monster he’s released, you feel a sense of tired contentment between you both. Hoseok hasn’t said anything since you’d both collapsed onto the bed after a rigorous second round and you hadn’t wanted to interrupt it yet. It was nice to just enjoy the tired aftermath of sex without the pressure of talking anything out.

Even if you knew that you both had to.

As if he can tell what you’re thinking, Hoseok takes a deep breath that has your head rising.

“I didn’t intend for...well for this. I swear,” He says, his voice a little nervous and you can tell he’s uncertain about how you’re going to respond now the potion has run its course. “I’m sorry for knocking the potion over, it was stupid of me.”

Pushing up onto your elbow, you reach up and place a finger against his lips to stop him from saying anything else. He looks at you, his cheeks adorably full from this angle and his eyes dark while he waits for you to say whatever you’re thinking.

What you’re thinking is that his lips are so soft beneath your fingertip, plush and swollen from the frantic kisses. Before you can think of anything else, you shift forward until you’re kissing him once more, the movement slow enough for him to stop it if he didn’t want to.

He lets you though, one hand coming up to cup the back of your neck in support, and opening his mouth to deepen it. A quiet moan leaves your throat as you slant your mouth against his, tilting your head to find the perfect angle and shivering as he slips his tongue into your willing mouth. 

Any hint of a conversation disappears between you both, his free hand running down your naked back in a slow stroke that’s so sensual it has you quivering. But you know that he understands that you’re not annoyed at him; actually the exact opposite.

Pulling away, you lick at your lips and note the unfiltered lust in his eyes as he watches you do so, before smiling at him. Brushing some of his dark hair away from his face, admiring just how handsome he was.

“Don’t worry about it, honestly. I was fully aware of myself and wanted it. I already told you that and I meant it. The potion just helped me to get over my inhibitions. Trust me, I was already considering this after the Winter Solstice Ball. I just didn’t know how to get over the hurdle of being nervous about it.” Now it’s his turn to comfort you, his fingertips tracing across your face in a featherlight touch.

It’s almost painfully tender and the sparkling warmth in his eyes tells you that there’s something much deeper there for him. But you don’t push and he doesn’t spill. He’ll tell you when he’s comfortable with it, and you’ll be there to hear it.

Instead, he opens up with an entirely different kind of vulnerability. The confidence he’s shown so far disappears and you note fondly that it makes him look younger. Something he’d probably hate you saying.

You’ve finally figured out why he never likes conversation about the age difference between you both, at least.

“Really? Do you really mean that? I mean, about considering it?” Hoseok sounds awkward, his voice pitching higher than normal at one point and causing him to cough while his cheeks darken. The urge to coo is unbelievable.

“Yes, I mean it. I was a little taken aback when I first came here and I saw how much you’d changed since I’d last seen you. But you became one of my closest friends and the last few weeks has had me looking at you...in a slightly different light. You were...unreal at the ball and it made me realise a lot of things. And the kiss spurred that on, too. I talked with Jisoo and she helped me to see that...you’re not just her little brother. I’d been putting that label on you in an attempt to keep you at arm’s length, but I don’t want that now. I don’t need to, because I’ve accepted that I find you attractive and I would be open to more if you wanted it.” The words fall from your mouth in a rush, taking advantage of the confidence you had to get this out.

“I want it.” You don’t even get to say anything else because Hoseok interrupts you with those three simple words, the syllables fast as his enthusiasm takes over. Snorting quietly, you kiss his cheek affectionately and enjoy it when it pinkens once more.

“Someone’s eager.” Teasing him, you roll onto your back and let out a sigh as you stare up at the blank ceiling. There’s a slight chill in the air, common in such an old castle as Hogwarts, but you feel your nipples pebble from it. Shuddering, you go to tug the blanket over your naked body and Hoseok’s.

“I’ve been waiting for this for a while, so yeah. But we can talk about that more later if you want?” Looking over at him, you smile at the happiness on his face and note how he seems so much lighter than before. The knowledge that you’ve done this to him is a little overwhelming, causing you to let out a sudden breath.

And then you notice that he’s not only happy in the metaphorical sense but also in the physical sense, a prodding against your thigh causing you to peek under the blanket. Sure enough, his well-endowed erection was very prominent against you.

Raising an eyebrow, you look up at Hoseok with a mix of exasperation, amusement and admiration.

“Already? Three times in an evening?” Now Hoseok is the one smirking, the palm of his hand pressing flat against your stomach before slowly creeping down your body. The low lying flame of desire that had settled burns back to life now and you subtly wriggle in your bed, thighs opening as your body tries to get those long fingers where you want them.

“One of the benefits of a younger man,” Wiggling his brows, he grins when you chuckle before pushing at his chest. “If our age difference is ever mentioned again then I want this to be the thing you remember most.”

And with that, he flashes his teeth in a mischievous smile before disappearing under the blanket, ignoring your shriek of laughter at how his fingers tickle. That laughter soon dissolves into a moan when he reaches his destination though and as you grasp his hair tightly, glad that you finally took the plunge and realised what a wonderful man Jung Hoseok is.

[exosmutfactory]

Six Phases 006 Pt 2

Originally posted by exo-stentialism

Who knew it nearly took 6 months to win your heart, and 6 phases for Baekhyun to lose his mind.

A/N: sorry not sorry 😇🚗💨🔥

[ contains: romance, fluff, angst, & smut ]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4) 

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Somehow, waking up early on Saturday mornings had become a routine since that weekend. Between the plague-like thoughts that disrupted my sleep and how Baekhyun cutely requested for breakfast the next morning, I dragged my tired body out of bed and quickly whipped up some bacon with scrambled eggs. He insisted that my cooking was the best before the flavor even settled fully onto his tongue, counteracting my every protest with flustering compliments. I recall accidentally telling him he was full of shit—it was only a simple meal, after all. What is that compared to the hundreds of fancy restaurants he has dined in?

"Your food tastes like home," He argued between pacifying whines, back-hugging me in a way that always weakens my defenses. I begrudgingly agreed after convincing him to have turkey bacon from time to time. Pork has its place, and I preferably don't enjoy the breakfast variety all too often.

It's ridiculous what lengths I would go for this infuriatingly attractive man. If my weekend to-do list full of breakfast, groceries, and laundry is anything to go by, I wouldn't oppose being considered as "whipped" for him. It is what it is, man.

Every Saturday I am up and running by the time the sunlight breaks over the horizon. Regardless of how late I end up sleeping the night before, my eyes automatically open between the hours of 6 and 7; ready to climb out of bed as quietly as possible. Thankfully Baekhyun is a heavy sleeper who is content with hugging my pillow to his chest while I sneak off to the kitchen.

The aches in my body become very apparent the moment my foot touches the carpeted floor of our bedroom, a familiar feeling—welcomed almost, though I'd never tell Baekhyun that. His ego when it comes to things like this is big enough as it is.

Suppressing a shiver at the wintry morning air, I reach for his discarded shirt from the night before, tsking quietly at the two buttons missing from the top of the material. I swear he's the most annoyingly endearing man I've ever met. There's no other explanation for why I'm already planning what time to sew the buttons back on, carefully picking them up from the floor and leaving them on top of our shared dresser.

Luckily the remaining buttons are enough to shield my shoulders from the cold of the large apartment; the bottom of the shirt brushing against the back of my thighs as I make my way out into the hallway, gently closing the door behind me. In times like these I am grateful for Baekhyun's habit of leaving his house-slippers right outside of our bedroom. I rarely use mine despite his constant chastising. Some things in life are better bare.

Slipping into the slippers with ease, a smile tugs at my lips while shuffling quietly down the hallway. I usually keep breakfast simple: scrambled eggs, a few strips of bacon—maybe a pancake or two on a particularly good morning. Today, however, I'm in the mood for something more. Omelets, cinnamon buns, and the little sausages Baekhyun has adored lately.

Checking on the buns in the small conventional oven on the counter, I whisk away at the raw eggs that will make up Baekhyun's omelet, smoothing out the yolk entirely. A light breeze and soft kiss pressed to my shoulder break me out of my concentration. I could recognize those pouty lips anywhere.

"You're up early," I murmur, leaning back against his chest. Tilting my head up, I smile at his cute sleepy expression.

"Mmm," He manages to capture my lips in an upside-down kiss that melts me to my very core, his warm fingers seeping through the fabric of my borrowed shirt. "What are you up to?"

"Breakfast," I breathe, cheeks warming as he pulls away, quickly checking on the sizzling frying pan in front of me before he can catch me admiring his bare torso. "I got the sausages you like, Bae."

"Bae?"

The top of my head nearly slams into the bottom of the cabinets as I freeze in my tracks, frying pan clutched in hand. Shit, did I say that out loud? My face might as well be 50 shades of red. "I—I mean-"

Baekhyun plants a kiss on my head that throws my every thought out the window. "I love you." He hums, hugging me warmly before walking to the dining table. The view of his bare back as he runs a hand through his sleep-tousled hair is way too captivating for six-thirty in the damn morning.

I put my attention back on the pan, hurriedly removing it from the burner to slide the sausages onto a tray. 30 more seconds and I would have burned the damn things had I not shaken myself back into focus. "Jenny and the gang are coming over today."

"Today?"

I raise a brow at his tone. The high-pitched inquiry of his voice at the mention of his friends is a little suspect. Who was the genius that bragged so much about my BBQ short ribs everyone ended up inviting themselves over to our apartment? Shouldn't he remember our plans for tonight?

"Yes?" I drag out, tilting my head, looking at him skeptically with a hand on my hip, raising my spatula. "Did you forget?"

His silent form sitting rigidly at the table is enough of an answer. "N-" I raise my other brow. "Erm—M-Maybe?"

"Uh-huh." If he wasn't so adorable after just waking up with his lips tutted in a confused pout, I would give him hell. "I bought groceries yesterday, so we're only missing the wine-"

"I'm on it." Baekhyun perks up in his chair as if douched in cold water, pulling his phone out of nowhere. "Hyerin," He murmurs groggily, fumbling clumsily for a couple of seconds and slapping it to his ear in his hurry. "I need a bottle of Dom Perignon by 6:30. Thank you." The call is over in the span of 10 seconds. He sets the device next to his glass of orange juice on the table, busying himself with gulping down half of its contents. It takes a while for him to notice my bewildered gaze. "What?" He mumbles; orange pulp on his pouty lips.

I narrow my eyes, lowering the grease-covered frying pan back to the stove. "Who was that?" And how the fuck you just ordering Dom Perignon as if it doesn't cost my entire education expenses? If you just bought the $50k edition, I swear, Byun Baekhyun—"My new secretary." He yawns, stretching his arms above his head with a soft, content smile. "Come here." He mumbles, opening them towards me, his sleepy brown orbs fluttering sluggishly. "I miss you."

For a moment I just stare at him. "I'm right here..." I mutter softly, growing more aware of his current state by the minute. Those dark circles are committing the worst crime by being on his precious face. Carefully sliding his omelet onto a plate followed by a few pieces of sausage, I can't help laughing a little to myself at the comparison of our meals. His omelet managed to come out better than the one I made for me, perfectly solid compared to my result of scrambled eggs. No matter what, he gets the very best from me—I'm taking the biggest cinnamon bun though. That delicious treat has my name written all over it, it's mine for the taking. Besides, I can risk a sugar-crash unlike Mr. 12 hour shifts over there. Noting his drowsy form nodding off at the table, I quickly reach over to start the coffeemaker.

The smile that lights up his face as I present his food to him makes up for the few seconds I burnt my hand earlier, trying my best not to burn our whole apartment down. Note to self: never daydream about eventful Friday nights while leaning over a hot stove. Had I been slower to react, I'd be nursing my hand back to health with a frazzled boyfriend refusing to let me so much as brush my teeth on my own—it gets overwhelming after the first day, trust me.

Settling down on his lap under the persuasive encouragements falling from his irresistible lips, I hold up a piece of sausage to shush his drowsy mumblings. As cute as he is, he needs his morning protein before he can wake up and function properly. Especially after working 60 hours two weeks in a row. I respect his enthusiasm as a semi-workaholic myself, but damn am I worried. What kind of crazily time-consuming clothing line is going on in his beautiful head this time?

Baekhyun finishes his juice while I pick at my food, lazily twirling his hair between my fingers. Some days I ask myself why I’m still here, why I still try, why I continue on in this relationship that has more blurred lines than direct answers about our future. To tell the truth... I never expected to fall in love again. I never saw this coming—never saw him coming, when my sole way of survival has been spotting things from miles away. How did it come to this? How the hell did this man sneak past all my defenses so easily?

Maybe it was the smile he shot my way the first time we met or the way we had danced that Friday night, his body seeming to match so perfectly with mine. His comforting presence and sweet, brown eyes that hold all the stars in the universe. The countless late nights he has spent looking after me when I caught the flu from a combination of lack of sleep, stress, and poor life choices. He's always been there—always been here with me, but why… Why isn’t it enough? What is missing? How can I strip this weight off my chest that suffocates me more by the day?

"Baby?" Baekhyun's warm voice caresses my ear, comforting arms tightening around me.

"What if it happens again?" Jenny's worried face flashes vividly in my mind.

The memories come pouring in, making my mouth go dry as a lump forms in my throat. It takes everything in me to drag my eyes up to meet Baekhyun's inquiring orbs, plastering on another smile. The gesture is easier to manage with every sweet kiss his soft pillows plant on my lips. His heart-fluttering touch distracts my hyperactive mind for a while.

"Damn, Riley." Chanyeol practically moans, the sampling spoon I had offered him left to dangle pre-cautiously between his fingers. "Had I known you could cook like this, I would have come soon—ah!"

"Yah," Baekhyun scowls as I take the last serving plate from the counter to the table with a bashful smile, passing the tall man clutching the back of his head. "That's my girlfriend you're talking about." He mutters, lowering his hand, voice deepening in an unfairly attractive manner. "Watch your mouth."

"Geez." The giant huffs, glaring at him under the veil of his blonde hair. "You'd think you two were married with that—okay, okay!"

"When you two are done." The over-the-top chirp of my voice catches their attention; both their eyes widening like guilty little kids caught with their hands in a cookie jar. "Dinner is ready."

"Don't let me eat it all." Jongdae drawls, throwing an arm over the back of Jenny's chair, looking at them lazily, his brown eyes glinting mischievously. "Remember what happened last time."

Baekhyun and Chanyeol scramble for their seats as if their asses have been set on fire; an unusually quiet Jongin follows behind them, carrying a plate I forgot all about.

"Thank you." I gasp, quickly making room for the forgotten dish. "Set it down here, please."

Jongin nods, setting down the plate of cucumber salad next to the servings of Bulgogi. "I'm sorry Kyungsoo couldn't make it." He mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something came up at the restaurant."

"It's alright. Wanna pack a to-go plate for him?" Tilting my head, I smile in understanding at the sheepish expression on his face. "If you think he'd like my food, anyway," I joke, resting my arm on the back of my chair as I continue to face him, relieved at the familiar hint of playfulness restored in his eyes.

"Oh he's going to love it," Chanyeol insists with a pleased hum, yelping at the smack Jenny lands on his sneaky hand.

"Where are your manners, Park?" She sighs, shaking her head, fiery red curls bouncing with the motion.

"Save some for the rest of us, asshole." Jongdae grumbles, subtly eyeing the cucumber salad.

Everyone's plate already has a soft taco shell, warm from a few seconds in the microwave. The toppings are placed on top of the two tables Baekhyun and I had to push together to accommodate our guests: fresh Korean lettuce, sour cream, and other ingredients that Jenny helped me choose—especially that bowl of melted nacho-cheese Jongin keeps taking glances at.

We all look towards Baekhyun once he settles in his seat. He leans forward to reach the middle of the table, bypassing the regular bulgogi for the one drenched in a home-made sauce, spooning some on my taco shell with a chaste kiss to my cheek. "Eat up, everyone," He murmurs sweetly, tired brown eyes twinkling.

Jongdae doesn't even fake-gag with Chanyeol and Jongin, he goes straight for the cucumber salad. The fresh smell wafts in the air amongst the various meat and spices, making Baekhyun's nose crinkle adorably. I carefully brush his freshly dyed hair out of his eyes, chuckling at the pout he shoots my way. "Did you really have to make cucumber salad, baby? Cucumber?"

"One man's trash is another man's treasure, Byun," Jongdae mutters, forgoing his personal bowl to grab the whole serving. No one says a word, we just share knowing smiles. And once Chanyeol pops the cork of the expensive Dom Perignon, the real party begins.

Endless tales of embarrassing high school cafeteria incidents spill forth from Jongdae's mouth as if shame has gone out of style. The details he shares at the expense of Chanyeol's seemingly innocent public image flying out the window right along with it.

"One second this guy looked like he was taking the biggest shit of his life, and the next thing I know, Lee Naeun from 5th period Physics is crawling out from under the table, wiping spulge from her lips. Like, Chanyeol, what the actual fuck bro? Couldn't you have taken your business to the 3rd floor Janitor's closet? I think I still have the key..."

If it wasn't for Baekhyun's quick hands, I would've sprayed a mouthful of wine across the entire table.

Unfortunately, Jongin had to head out right after dinner, promising to meet up again soon before hurrying to Kyungsoo's house, two plates clutched in hand. Chanyeol decided to stick around for longer to "let his two glasses of wine wear off"—this man has the metabolism of a beast, we know why he's really here. His reason is comfortably seated next to Jenny on our striped couch, sock-clad feet propped up on the coffee table.

"Dinner was nice," Jenny smiles, sipping leisurely at her water.

"More than nice." Chanyeol boosts from our leather recliner, raising his glass, tipping his head at me. "Your food damn near tops Kyungsoo's," He pauses, brown eyes widening. "Don't tell him I said that."

"No worries," I laugh softly, hiding in the safety of Baekhyun's shoulder. He shifts towards me, finishing his wine and setting the empty glass on the coffee table before wrapping an arm around my waist, brushing his lips against my forehead in a way that leaves my heart shaking. The white loveseat we're sitting on sinks further under our joined weight, and really, there's no place I'd rather be—except our king sized bed, that is. Baekhyun's firm grip on my bare thigh isn't helping my tipsy trance in the slightest. The universe knows I'd rather be getting drunk off of him right now.

"I'm going for a smoke," Jongdae mutters, rising from the couch. He leans down to Jenny for a kiss that leaves her beaming, going to retrieve his trench coat and shoes before slipping out of the door.

Good to see them doing well; I blink in surprise, smiling teasingly her way. I'm happy for her! It really is a pleasant surprise to see Jongdae stating their relationship in such a way; an immense improvement from their past encounters of Jenny nervously seeking affection and Jongdae down-right dodging it like his life depends on it. Public displays of affection are a sweet, straightforward way to say, "hey, this person means a lot to me," or, "back off, they're mine." Which personally sets me on romantic fire. Even if it's just holding hands, it can put me in high spirits—doing it with a certain, cheeky silver-haired man is just a bonus.

Jenny winks, fanning her cheeks that match the rosy shade of her hair before tuning in to Chanyeol's loud chatter.

Soft laughter rumbles in Baekhyun's chest as he engages in the conversation. His warm palm securely holds my hand when I slip my cold palm into his warm one. He presses a kiss to the back of it, pulling a silent giggle from my lips as he smiles at me with an arched brow, squeezing our intertwined fingers.

"Riley?"

I drag my eyes up to Jenny who's loosening her red curls by running her fingers through them. "Yeah?"

"Jongdae's not answering his cell," She murmurs with a worried frown. "Can you go check on him, please?"

And why can't you do it? — Or come with me for that matter? I raise a brow, getting up from the chair and Baekhyun's warmth with a silent sigh. "Okay. I'll be back." If I get kidnapped or spooked by some random asshole, she'll never hear the end of it. I really should ask Baekhyun to teach me a thing or two about hakipdo though.

Jenny beams, a peculiar twinkle in her eye, clasping my hand between hers. "Thank you!"

Uh-huh... I try not to eye her too warily.

"Take my coat, baby," Baekhyun murmurs, kissing the side of my wrist. "It's cold out."

"O-Okay." I clear my throat, pointedly avoiding the smug smiles of the other two in the room while walking over to the coat hanger.

Slipping on his brown, cinnamon-scented coat brings a giddy smile to lips—one I'm quick to hide in the soft fabric.

I slide on my boots before making my way to the elevator, not up for taking the 4 levels of stairs this late at night. Thankfully, that nosy neighbor down the hall isn't meeting me at the elevator tonight on one of his various late-night escapades. I've had enough awkward encounters with his lovers to last me a lifetime.

The lobby is empty except for a lone security guard who waves my way, face lit up in familiarity. Smiling back, I step out the crystal-clean glass doors of the building into the quiet night, quickly finding the man I'm looking for standing at the edge of the sidewalk. "Jongdae."

"Huh?" He looks over his shoulder, turning halfway at the sight of me, pulling a joint from his lips.

"You alright?" I pull Baekhyun's coat tighter around me, resisting the urge to shiver in the icy wind. "Jenny was looking for you."

"Looking for-" He chuckles, brown hair ruffling as he throws his head back in laughter. "Girl, please. I was instructed to come down here 5 minutes ago." He continues, inhaling deeply from the stick between his fingertips. "She ain't looking for me, she's looking for a way for them to chat privately and to make us talk..." He sighs, looking over at me. "I'm not exactly the best company for deep shit."

"O-kay then," I mumble, more than a little peeved, ready to turn on my heel in any direction other than stay here.

"Let's talk." He shrugs, exhaling smoke into the frosty air. I shoot him a wary look, barely taking a step in his direction. "I said let's talk, not have a screaming match." He mutters, rolling his eyes into the back of his head. "Why you all the way over there?" He follows my gaze to the stick between his fingers. "What? This?" He scoffs, smirking. "It's a joint, worst thing you'll get is the munchies."

Crinkling my nose, I take a couple more steps closer anyway, standing beside him, keeping a respectful distance between us.

"Listen." He sighs, taking another drag. "I know I've done some things that… I didn't necessarily have to do." He glances at me for a moment, and then faces the street lights. "Bros before hoes, you know?"

Yeah, I inwardly roll my eyes, focusing on a lonely snowflake evaporating before it reaches the ground. There's a lot to be said over people doing things that they didn't necessarily have to do. If I had a dime for every sleepless night I've had because of Jongdae's shameless mouth, I wouldn't be paying off my student loans anymore.

"Look." Jongdae takes one last drag, crushing the joint under his worn-out winter boots. "The way he is now is much better than the Baekhyun we knew back then." He nods a little to himself, meeting my gaze. "Still can't see why he decided to change his ways for you...but oh well." He mutters, lips quirking into a playful smirk at my small smile before facing the city lights again. Festival lamp-shaped snowflakes attached to the top of every streetlight beam against the dim backdrop of empty downtown buildings, prepared for the coming holidays. "You're alright for a best friend stealer."

A laugh escapes before I can slap my hands over my mouth, meeting his eye nervously only for us to both end up laughing; our amusement echoing loudly through the quiet night.

"Riley?" Jenny's confused voice peeps up, red curls rebelling against the hood of her fluffy white coat.

"Over here!" I cup my hand around my mouth, waving to get her attention.

She turns towards us, rounding the corner with quick strides. "There you are! I thought you got grabbed or something." She fusses, resting a hand on my arm, leaning closer to whisper in my ear, "Especially you. Baekhyun was two seconds from hunting you down with my head on his mantle."

"Jenny!" I snort, accepting her tight hug, my voice muffled in her puffy coat. "It kinda would be your fault though."

"I know!" She exclaims, viewing me from an arm's length away. "I was sweating out my hair."

"Baby?" That unmistakable honey voice calls. A head of fluffy silver locks and brown eyes peek around the building, catching light in the streetlights.

"Here, B," I soothe, chuckling as he speeds over to us, gathering me in his arms without hesitation.

"I thought I lost you," He mutters, hiding in my hair.

"She was gone for ten minutes," Jongdae deadpans.

"Ten minutes too long!" He pulls back to glare over at the brunet, hugging me to his chest with cheeks too rosy to be merely from a few moments out in the cold.

"Just how much of that wine did you drink?.." I narrow my eyes, cupping his flushed cheeks.

"Good thing you only bought one bottle," Jenny laughs nervously, slowly gravitating to shelter behind Jongdae's taller form.

"Enough to miss you." Baekhyun's breath leaves goosebumps on my chilled skin, his soft lips brushing my ear.

"Al-right, time to go before the lovebirds start mating." Jongdae grumbles, wrapping an arm around Jenny's beaming form. Their matching smirks have me scurrying to direct my tipsy boyfriend back towards our apartment.

"Uh—okay! See you guys next time!" I laugh to mask my burning face, gently pushing Baekhyun into the building.

"Goodnight! Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Jenny sing-songs, the smugness clear in her tone.

"Can't make any promises!" Baekhyun proclaims over his shoulder, much to my embarrassment. Thankfully he quiets down once we reach the elevator, but based on the wide eyed security guard, the damage has already been done.

Can the frozen ground just please open up and swallow me whole?

The view of this busy street differs from all the other times I've walked down it with Baekhyun by my side. Maybe because it's been almost 2 years since I've moved to this city, or that new boutique being set up at the end of the road. Whatever the case, the air is different—crisper, cleaner. Refreshing as I briskly walk to my destination, wanting to avoid being out in the cold as much as possible. The weather here is so much colder in the middle of December compared to how flowers were still budding around this time outside of my childhood home.

Humming a song that's been stuck in my head for days with my car keys spinning around my finger, I stroll into Privé Alliance's building, admiring the latest clothing line pictures hung up along the walls and waving to the new receptionist while making my way to the elevator. Many men and women in business attire are all over the place as per usual during the busiest months of the year. However, once I make it out of the crowd of chattering employees, the sight of a familiar face waiting in front of the elevator brings a smile to my face. "Kyungsoo!"

The short-haired man turns around. "Hello, Riley." He nods with a small smile as we step inside the open doors, pressing the buttons to the 5th and top floor. "Lunch date?"

"Hmm?.." Blinking a few times, I follow his gaze to the picnic basket clutched in my hand. "Oh! Yes." I chuckle, smoothing down my hair. "Sorry." Between nearly slipping on a patch of ice on the way over here and the pretty lights decorated all over the city, I've forgotten the reason I left our fridge in a disarray this morning. Who decided to store the sandwich meats at the back of the refrigerator? I know Baekhyun loves my home cooking, but damn, man, let me have a break too.

"It's alright." Kyungsoo chuckles, arching a brow. "Hopefully you can get him to relax."

"Relax? Coming from you!?" I gasp sarcastically, covering my mouth with wide eyes.

"Only because he's seconds away from firing half the 3rd floor." He mutters with a roll of his eyes, yet an apologetic smile forms on his face. "Sorry I couldn't make it to the gathering." He clears his throat while facing forward again, straightening his suit.

"It's alright," I smile, resisting the urge to chuckle at his flustered state, checking my outfit in the elevator's reflection. It may be a chilling 40 degrees—4 in celsius—but I can spare the warmth of my legs for a 2 minute walk from Privé's parking lot. No weather can tell me what I can and can't wear. If I want to rock a pencil skirt on the coldest day of the week, so be it! Plus, these two-inch heels couldn't be left behind. I can't show up at Baekhyun's workplace with the poor fashion choices I subject him to at home, so we're going, coolness over comfort.

"Life happens," I mumble, tucking rebellious locks of hair behind my ear. "I'm just glad you're doing okay." The smile that forms on his heart-shaped lips when I take a glance at him makes me beam back.

"I'll stop by sometime this week." He hums, black dress shoes tapping on the floor. "I just finished a new recipe."

"Recipe?" I blink, mildly intrigued, mentally running over the list of food I'm carrying for the 3rd time today.

"Fried ice cream cake," He smirks, nonchalantly checking his watch.

"Fried-" My jaw damn near drops to the floor. Fried? Fried!? The one ice cream Baekhyun banned me from attempting myself after burning my hand while frying fish a few days ago?! Which Baekhyun is half to blame, by the way—never sneak up on someone over a popping frying pan. It never ends well. Besides that, it also was the day I truly realized the stamina that man possesses. I have never seen someone react so quickly to shove my hand under ice-cold water in my life.

Searching for any cameras in the elevator, I step a little closer to the short-haired man, whispering discreetly behind my hand, "W-Will you bring me some?"

"The prettiest one," He promises, softly patting my shoulder, chuckling at the star-struck expression written all over my face. "This is me, I'm afraid."

"Huh?" I blink into focus, shocked to be on the 5th floor so soon. What the heck. What is it about elevator rides with Baekhyun and Kyungsoo that make them go by lightning-fast compared to the stifling, tension-filled ones with Jongdae? If you can read a room, it truly makes a difference. "Oh, don't let me keep you." I give a little wave, balancing the picnic basket on my forearm. "See you later!"

Kyungsoo nods, smiling with a wave of his own as the double doors close. It is at that moment that I freeze, recalling how Baekhyun mentioned he hired a new secretary a few weeks back. Well... shit—how do I explain why I'm arriving at his floor unannounced on a random Tuesday afternoon?

Do his employees even know we are dating?.. A small part of me doubts it. Why do I care? Oh, right—I fucking live with him!

By some miracle, no one is occupying the neatly arranged desk when the elevator opens on the top floor, saving me from the completely rushed explanation I have no idea how to even put into words. All that lies before me is an undisturbed walk to Baekhyun's office, the intimidating black door slightly ajar. I slip off my heels, rushing out of the elevator on sock-clad feet before the doors close. Baekhyun's businessman voice filters through the quiet air. He must be on the phone.

Shuffling as quietly as possible down the hallway, I peek into his office. My eyes quickly find his broad form leaning a hip against his executive desk, a phone pressed to his ear as he faces the floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing the heart of Seoul. Impeccably dressed in a wrinkle-free, white dress shirt with his sleeves rolled up. His black blazer thrown over the back of his chair. Like always, the splashes of color in every corner of the room have my lips curling up, but I have to muffle a small giggle at the sight of a thin pink measuring tape hanging around his neck.

I slowly inch closer, discarding my coat and setting down the basket in one of the leather chairs. Smoothing my flower-patterned, white button-down shirt, I silently approach him, gently covering his eyes once he ends the call. "Guess who~"

Baekhyun stiffens for a moment before swiftly turning around, wrapping his arms around me and lifting me up, setting me down on his desk. He cups my cheeks in his warm palms, crashing his lips to mine before I can make a sound. "Thank god, it's you." He breathes, warm fingers sliding into my hair.

"W-Well—hello to you too." I barely manage to get out between his feverous kisses, making a noise in surprise when he pulls me flush to his chest. "What is it?" I ask softly, noticing the bothered look on his face; carefully running my fingers through his styled hair as he hides in my neck. "Another long day?"

"You have no idea." He sighs, looking up at me. "I was 2 seconds away from losing it."

"Don't-" I pause, thinking about it. A few memories of last week flash through my mind. "Well, you are kind of hot when you're angry..." In the proper context.

Baekhyun perks up, exhausted brown eyes regaining their sparkle. "Really?"

I hum to appease his hopeful expression, yelping when he pulls me into his arms, not expecting to be carried up from the desk so suddenly.

"Come here," He murmurs, walking around to sit in his chair, setting me on his lap. "I need strength to get through these reports."

Gently playing with his hair to calm down my racing heart, I tilt my head, "Do you have time for a lunch break?"

Baekhyun hums distractedly, kissing my forehead, holding me closer to his firm chest. "We can order in a little later."

Kyungsoo's words come back to mind while I watch Baekhyun continue to click around his computer, brown eyes squinted and brows furrowing more by the minute. I inwardly cringe at the move I'm about to pull, but… Our sandwiches' lifespan is ticking away. Desperate times call for desperate measures.

"But…" I pout, resting my hands flat on his chest, widening my eyes for effect as his focused orbs shift to meet mine. "But I made it."

"Let's eat now then," Baekhyun smiles, his steady gaze flickering all over my person. I swear I just witnessed his pupils dilating right before my very eyes. "Give me 5 minutes."

My lips quirk up, "One-"

"I'll set a timer." He laughs, shaking his head, reaching for his phone between his bright screen laptop and desktop PC.

Smiling in victory, I stretch across the desk to retrieve the basket, peeking at his computer accidentally. "Holy shit, is that Melody Hudson?" I straighten up, focusing on the magazine cover opened up on a famous website. "The model?" My eyes widen in awe of her tall blonde form modeling a stunning royal blue summer dress; the color bringing out the blue in her shining eyes. I place the basket on a clear spot on Baekhyun's crowded desk before rubbing his stiff shoulders. He must still be tense from work. "She's so pretty."

Baekhyun hums, placing a hand on my cheek. His gentle caress coaxes my eyes back to his. "But you're beautiful," He whispers, resting his forehead on mine, brushing a thumb over my lips.

There's nowhere to hide the red hue that springs onto my face, making him chuckle as I quickly turn back to start taking out our food.

"Would you like to accompany me to a photoshoot?" The tentative tone of his voice has me raising a brow.

"Sure!" Handing him his sandwich, I press a kiss to his cheek, carefully unwrapping my homemade fries. "I'd love to see you work behind the scenes."

"Actually..."

I look at him, mid-bite of my toasted turkey sandwich.

"I'll be in the scenes," He drops, soft lips quirking a boyish grin.

My grip on my sandwich rips a hole in the middle while preventing it from falling out of my hands. "I…"—Behind the scenes witnessing Baekhyun modeling?? With his god-tier body and knee-weakening smirks that have me crumbling from beyond a screen alone? Hell to the mother fucking yes! "O-Okay."

Baekhyun's brown orbs twinkle knowingly, an amused smile forming on his lips as he presses them to mine. "Great."

It's impossible to mask my excitement while slipping into the passenger seat of Baekhyun's Audi. The beautiful red highlights around the black interior never fail to leave my jaw dropped in awe, fingertips tempted to graze over every surface. I'd like to think a person's dream car matches their owner, and there's no denying how devilishly divine my boyfriend looks settling into the driver's seat.

Baekhyun's simple, black button-down shirt and matching jeans have me inwardly salivating—I don't even have the slightest clue of why he's going to a photoshoot today. Privé? A cover for a magazine? Possibilities are endless, but not just anyone can request an hour of his time during one of the busiest months of the year.

"Are you ready?" Baekhyun glances over at me, his unstyled hair tucked under a Privé corduroy camel baseball cap that I haven't quite seen before.

"Yes," I beam at him, tilting my head curiously. "Is that hat new? I don't think I've seen it before."

Baekhyun smirks, brown eyes glinting mischievously as he straps on his seatbelt. "Maybe." He rests a hand on the steering wheel and the other on my thigh, backing out of his designated parking space. "Hold on tight, baby. You're in for a long ride."

I blink, having no clue what kind of ride he means. When it comes to Baekhyun, you never know what you're getting yourself into, but you never really have to worry about it either. If I hadn't known him for a few years, I would have bugged him to tell me where we're going for the entire ride. But with a few years under our belt—and some long months spent sharing a close-knitted home—I can comfortably sit back and relax for the whole journey, because there is no Baekhyun without one.

•••

The parking lot outside of the building is relatively calm, with only a few staff members bringing in materials from their cars. Inside of the place, however, is a complete madhouse. Everyone is speed-walking to various rooms and popping up from behind every corner. Not a drop of silence in the heavily populated area.

"There's our man of the hour!" A tall, aged man steps forward to shake Baekhyun's hand, carefully cradling a camera strapped around his neck. "So glad you could make it. I hope we are not taking up too much of your time?" He inquires, pushing glasses further up his nose, glancing over at me.

"Oh no, of course not!" Baekhyun shakes his head, shifting closer to wrap an arm around my waist. "I invited my girlfriend to accompany me today." He clears his throat, reddening cheeks caught under the harsh spotlights. "I hope you don't mind."

"No, not at all," The man reassures, gesturing towards a staff member who quickly brings over a grey single-seat sofa. "The more the merrier. Here you go, Madam. Is the chair to your liking?"

"Yes, thank you," I smile, trying not to stutter, brushing my fingertips over Baekhyun's warm palm before taking a seat. He shoots me a little bashful grin as the photographer whisks him away, a team of stylists directing him to a chair on the opposite side of the room. It's amusing to see so many people fussing over his hair, pulling out hairspray, and presenting him with simple yet sexy articles of clothing.

A few other models are walking around in the same attire, giving off a cool vibe of the newest clothing line, but when Baekhyun steps out of a dressing room…

Holy shit.

No, seriously holy shit!

Baekhyun walks into the room, standing against a wall as stylists comb his hair over to the left side of his face, using sprites of hairspray to tuck the right side behind his ear. As if he doesn't look dangerous enough adorning a leather jacket, a black shirt with white scribbles I can barely make out from this distance, and camel pants with unique, black low-platinum shoes.

The staff directs him over to the area with a gray backdrop, lights and cameras focused all over the place. Baekhyun practically glides over there, oozing with that stunning Ceo confidence. At a closer look, I can make out the pretty image of open and outstretched hands in the white lines at the bottom of his shirt. The intriguing detail has my full attention until I feel a persistent stare.

I lift my eyes higher to meet Baekhyun's dark brown orbs—from me sitting in the back of the room or getting into character; I have no idea. Suddenly my red knitted sweater is a bit too warm despite not being in front of any bright lights. Just when I think it can't get any worse, the photographer announces that it's time to begin.

If I had known what I agreed to the other day, I would have been more prepared—or so I'd like to think. I mean, how does one prepare their feelings for watching their unfairly attractive, multi-millionaire boyfriend pose for the camera as if moments away from sweeping them off of their feet!? And not in a sweet way either. Nah, ain't nothing innocent about the lethal expression swirling within his dark brown orbs. Especially while they are pointed right at me.

The hairstyle they gave him just makes my situation worse. How am I supposed to sit still with this man gazing so intensely into the "camera"? Is this really the same drowsy Baekhyun who I have to wake up every Sunday morning? Where did his tiredness go? There ain't nothing exhausted about the way he is staring at me! And when they bring out a chair for him to sit on… No. Hell no. That's it.

Draping my sweater over the back of my chair has his covered lips curling up at the corners, I just fucking know it.

After a few more camera flashes, the stylists are back with a new outfit in tow, gesturing for Baekhyun to change. However, right as he is turning down the short hallway leading to the dressing room, someone comes rushing into the building.

"I'm so sorry I'm late!" A petite woman with a French accent flies into the hall. "Traffic was-" She skids to a halt, staring at Baekhyun as if she's seen a ghost, her brown wavy hair mid-loop of making a bun. For a long moment, nobody says a word, and then she's on the move, crossing the short distance within two furious strides.

Her slap echoes across the tall walls.

"To think I waited for you." She grits out between heated spews of French. Her gray eyes brimmed with tears shoot daggers into Baekhyun's wide-eyed ones. "To think I held onto the fact that maybe you actually cared." Her whole body shakes as staff members rush over to restrain her, calling her name over her loud obscenities in an attempt to calm her down, trying to pull her away from him before she can jump him. It takes three men to drag her back out of the building. A woman from the small crowd quickly follows, dropping a blue clipboard in her haste. We hear her panicked voice a split second before the door slams shut behind them.

I don't know when or how it happens, but I'm already on the other side of the room, reaching out for a stunned Baekhyun being fussed over by stylists. "Baekhyun?" My eyes flicker all over his shock-stricken face once they move out of the way for me. A lump forms in my throat at the look in his eyes. "B," I tentatively place my hand over his frozen one on his cheek, the red handprint visible between his fingers. "Baekhyun!"

He flinches, shaky pupils focusing on me. "Y-Yes?"

"Are you okay?" Emotions grip at my throat, making it hard to speak while my eyes keep shifting between his alarmed ones and his steadily bruising cheek. I take the ice pack a staff member hands over without a word, gently brushing his hand away to hold it to his face. "Come here."

Baekhyun silently follows me to the dressing room, seemingly in a daze as stylists vacate the room, closing the door on their way out. I lead him over to a swivel chair in front of a white vanity table, letting him settle before speaking. "What was that?"

"What was what?" He mumbles, breaking my heart at the sight of him pressing ice to his swelling cheek.

"You know what I'm talking about." Crossing my arms, I continue staring him down. "Who was that woman, Baekhyun? Why did she hit you?"

"I'll tell you later, baby." He avoids my eye and his reflection in the mirror, getting up from the chair. "Let's wrap this photoshoot up, hmm? Then we'll go home-"

Stumbling to reach the door before he does, I block his escape, looking into his conflicted eyes. "I'm not letting you leave this room until you answer me."

His lips twitch, "Baby-"

I cross my arms despite my racing heart, my stomach twisting in an ignored warning. "I need answers-"

"For fuck's sake, Riley!" He thunders, startling me so much I slam the back of my head on the doorframe. "Out of my fucking way."

I step aside without another word, turning my head away as he storms out of the room. The slamming door left in his wake has my heart jumping into my throat. Anxiety grips at my chest like a vice, making it hard to breathe. I latch onto a Privé clothing rack, holding onto it for stability.

Baekhyun's tone on the other side of the door is much calmer while talking to one of the staff. I wait for a few minutes, resting against the clothing rack until his voice drifts away; the loud taps of his shoes fading into the distance. No matter how far away he is—most likely continuing on with the photoshoot by the faint clicks of a camera echoing around the quiet building—I don't… I can't; I won't go back out there to watch him. No, not after that. I'm sure everyone in the vicinity heard what just happened.

Slipping out of the room, I gasp when I bump into someone else, my heart beating so hard it hurts to breathe. Could this day get any worse? Seriously? "I'm so sorry."

"You're fine," The same staff member I heard minutes ago with Baekhyun shakes her head, smiling in sympathy. "Tough morning, huh?"

I can only manage a deep exhale, nodding, "I guess you could say that, u-um—" I'm losing the battle against the sting steadily building behind my eyes. "Do you know where the bathroom is by any chance?"

"Just around the corner," She nods, pointing farther down the hallway. "First door on your left."

"Thank you," I breathe, hurrying down the hall. Before I can pass by her, however, I notice her angrily marking out a name with a black sharpie from the same blue clipboard that clattered to the floor earlier.

Nicole. The woman they dragged out earlier…

With tears finally breaking free from my sore eyes, I couldn't have reached the bathroom fast enough.

To my relief, the room is empty. Nothing but painfully bright lights and the porcelain floors to witness my current state. I walk up to the sinks with a shaky sigh, splattering cold water on my face. My reflection isn't a pretty sight to behold when I look into the mirror, bracing my hands on the countertop as I take in the streaks of mascara running down my face. The one day I decide to wear a non-fool-proof kind and this is what I get?

Sighing, I turn to lean my back against the counter, crossing my arms. The photoshoot is back in full swing with all the compliments the photographer is showering Baekhyun in. It's pretty pathetic of me to hide out in this ice-cold bathroom, but I rather shiver for a few minutes than face him right now. Something about the way he reacted earlier... To that woman, to me—doesn't feel right. Maybe I pushed him too far? I just… Do I not have the right to know who just slapped the hell out of my boyfriend? Hell yeah, I'll admit I want to know who she is because he's mine and she was acting as if she was waiting forever for him to recuperate her feelings, but it's not just about that. No—Nah. The deer in headlights expression on his face as her hand collided with his cheek will not leave my mind.

Whatever it is, whatever just transpired in front of me; something is off and I rather be out the line of fire while trying to figure it out.

"To think I waited for you" For what? For when? With the way things are going, I might never know the answer.

The lack of chatter filtering through the echoing walls of the room catches my attention. I tentatively peek out of the bathroom, stepping back into the hallway at the uncharacteristically quiet state of the building. Is the shoot over already? Pushing past my dimly lit surroundings, I head back to the dressing room, hesitantly standing in the open doorway. I'm confused to not find Baekhyun there, or in the main area when I poke my head over the edge of the short hallway.

"Excuse me?" I approach the nearest stylist, moving out the way of another one clumsily carrying out articles of clothing. "Have you seen Baekhyun?"

She shakes her head with a pop of her minty gum, giving me a solemn look. "Last I saw of him, he was on his way to the men's room on the other side of the building."

"Ah..." Dread fills my stomach, and something tells me that I rather not find out why. "Thank you," I murmur in passing, quickly making my way back out of the room, speeding down to the opposite hallway. The possibility that I got left behind in an unfamiliar part of the city twists my stomach into knots until I round the corner. I stumble to a halt, sucking in a breath. My heart breaks at the sight—and then the rage kicks in.

Baekhyun's broad form in his partially unbuttoned black shirt braces himself against the wall, looming over a model. Her hand is in his hair and their lips interlocked in an intimate kiss. The sight has my blood boiling—nah, it's turning into fucking lava.

"Wow." I bark out a laugh, loud and hollow, positively seething as he jumps back from her as if burned. "If you were going to cheat, you could have at least had the decency to do it behind my back." The smirk that forms on my lips is the worst kind, the ugliest kind, the kind that has fear flickering in Baekhyun's wide brown eyes. "Or was this your intention all along?"

"R-Riley-" He stares like a deer in headlights, hurrying over to me, smearing her red lipstick over his lips in his haste to rub it off with the back of his hand. "Baby, please keep it down. I can explain-"

"Nah," I shake my head, looking at him in disdain. Just the sight of him right now has me heating up with anger. I'm seeing red as the model smirks at me from over his shoulder. That bitch. "This is explanation enough." I spin on my heel before I do something I won't regret in the slightest, just for his sake.

Baekhyun's dress shoes tapping frantically behind me as I storm back into the main hall.

"Riley, baby." His grip on my wrist throws me over the edge. "Please-"

"What were you doing, huh?" A snarl forms on my face as I whirl back around, meeting his pleading eyes. "Gonna show her your failed attempts at lasting for longer than a minute?"

Everyone in the room pauses. The photographer almost drops his prized camera.

Baekhyun's face grows progressively red, and if it wasn't for the rage burning in my own veins, I'd be concerned about the vibrant hue going up to his ears right now. Just like his mishap a few days ago that would normally be insignificant, it was his grave mistake. The key that I used to fuel the fire to the flame in the most torturous of ways... Have I hit a nerve, Hyunnie?

His grip tightens on my wrist. "We," He barely gets out in an angered growl of his own, "Are leav-"

"Get your filthy-" I hiss, snatching my wrist out of his grasp, "Paws off of me." I grab my sweater on my way out, exiting the building without looking back. The bite of the cold wintry air is a relief for my heated skin. "I'm not going anywhere with you."

"I drove." He says through clenched teeth, hot on my heels.

"And I'm walking." I bite back, walking past the car as he climbs into the driver's seat.

"Riley!" Baekhyun bellows, putting the Audi in gear and slowly following me out of the parking lot. "Get in the fucking car!"

I cross my arms, scoffing out a laugh. It doesn't matter where the hell I am, I'm not getting back in that car with him. Bringing me all the way out here just to pull that shit. He can kiss my ass. I knew I shouldn't have gotten in that car with him. If I had taken my own four-seat beauty that I left back at home, I'd be halfway on the way to Jenny's by now.

Baekhyun continues to follow behind me, honking obnoxiously, attracting unwanted attention from bystanders that whisper amongst themselves. Some of them pull out their phones. What a spectacle we would make for the front cover of magazines, endlessly entertainment for all their peering eyes. Pausing for a moment to weigh my options, I step towards the Audi with a sigh, climbing in without a word to the fuming man next to me.

Baekhyun drives on, clutching onto the steering wheel with both hands. His grip is so tight his knuckles turn white. I direct my gaze out of the passenger window, avoiding him at all costs within the confines of the car. The long ride home and walk up to our apartment does nothing to ease my rage. Anger continues to thump angrily in my veins as the past two hours replay in my mind.

Baekhyun unlocks the door and holds it open for me. I walk into the apartment with a scoff, moving to tug off my boots only for my back to meet the wall, the front door closing with a startling slam.

"What was that?" Baekhyun glares at me, fire burning bright in his brown orbs. He can't exactly tower over me, but by his mannerism, he doesn't need any extra height to get his point across.

"What was that?" I mumble, peeling off my shoes, ducking under his arm to cross the other side of the room. The longer I stay in these warm clothes, the more I die from the uncomfortable heat.

"No, what the actual fuck, Riley?" He shakes his head, long strands of silver hair dangling in his fury-filled eyes. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"Fine." I retort, rolling my eyes and looking at him, "Who was that woman then?"

His nostrils flare. "Really?" He bites out, laughing in disbelief. "Is that really important right now?"

I cross the room in three strides, tilting my chin up to stand nose to nose with him. "It is to me if you haven't fucking noticed."

"Oh, I'm so sorry." He scoffs, stepping back. A cruel smile curls on his lips. "What should I do? I haven't paid Riley enough attention." All traces of humor leave his features, his minty breath washing over my cheeks. Baekhyun leans in again, his voice lowering into an angered growl. "Maybe if you weren't wetting yourself over me all morning, you'd figure it out."

I grind my teeth. "Who. Was. She?"

"For fuck-" Baekhyun reels back, his brown eyes rolling so hard into the back of his head a flicker of worry sparks in my chest before those dark orbs land on me again. "An ex-fling," he grits out. "Why does it matter?"

My hands fall limply to my sides. "Why didn't you tell me she would be there?" I ask. My voice is much quieter while I search his eyes for answers.

"What?" He scoffs, raising a brow. "How was I supposed to know she would be there?"

"Her name was on the roster-"

"I-" He shakes his head, pulling harshly on his hair. "What? Do you expect me to know the names of the women I've slept with?" A smirk quirks at his pink lips, his brown eyes so dark that his pupils have vanished in their mahogany depths. "Do you think I've kept some journal? " He purrs, grinning in delight when I shuffle uncomfortably on my feet. "Are you really that insecure?"

I stiffen. A bolt of something sinister shoots down my spine. Did this fucker just—

"Me?" I point to myself with wide eyes, laughing incredulously. "Me?.... You know, that's real fucking rich coming from you." I sneer, roughly tugging off my annoying turtleneck. What was once a reliable piece of clothing ends up torn in my fit of rage. I fling it out of my sight. Baekhyun's words loop over and over in my head. Even though I don't show it—they cut me. Deep. On a touchy subject. In a part of me I thought had died 2 years ago. He damn well knows it hurts when it's mentioned in such a menacing manner, and he still did it. For what? His weak stamina in wake of his long hours at work is suddenly the equivalent to the root of my trust issues?

My fingers curl so tightly into a fist, I can feel my nails pierce the skin. "You're one to talk." It's easier this way; keeping my back turned to him so I can mask the tears brimming my eyes. Who does he think he is? Who is he, period? How is this the same adoring man that was pursuing me the summer we met?.... It takes all my effort not to bolt for the front door—not to let my nose run or tears to stream down my face. No. I won't cry over him again. I won't let him win. Not like this.

Firm in my resolve, I take a deep breath before turning to him again. "You're not so confident, Mr. Big Shot..." My words falter at the sight of him ripping his shirt open, black buttons clattering all over the floor. "What-"

Baekhyun has me backed against the wall before I can utter another word. "Did you enjoy yourself?" He demands, holding my chin between his thumb and index finger. He peers down into my eyes; the familiar look held in his dark orbs has me quivering on the inside—and it isn't from fear. "Hmm? Did you enjoy embarrassing me earlier? Did you have your fun?"

I quickly recover. "Not my fault you don't know how to keep it in your pants."

"You wish you were in my pants." He grits out, lips curling mockingly.

There are so many things I want to throw up in his handsome face right now. So many little secrets and observations I've made over the past year that would make him falter—make him kneel. But today...

Today.

I choose violence.

Tangling my fingers in his hair, I yank on his delicate locks without remorse, pulling him into a brutal kiss of tongue and teeth. Baekhyun grunts in surprise, pressing me harder against the wall. The harsh clash of our mouths only seems to egg him on. The stinging bite he leaves on my bottom lip is nearly enough to break the skin. I don't know how long we stand there; my hands in his hair and his palms sliding down my back. There's no telling where he ends or I begin until the lack of air sinks in. His breathless puffs for air erupt goosebumps on my skin.

"Are we really doing this?" He pants, pulling away to brush his hair back. His eyes are more familiar to me now, softened by his calmer state, intense from the lust felt in his every touch.

I pause my exploration of his firm chest, arching a brow at him with a mocking grin. "Think you can last longer than a minute this time?"

Baekhyun clenches his jaw and steps away. For a moment, I worry if I pushed him too far until his lips crash back to mine. "Jump," He mutters gruffly, his grip near bruising on my ass.

"And if I don't..." The look in his eyes as he drags his dark brown eyes up to mine shuts me up entirely.

Baekhyun slowly leans closer, brushing his lips against the shell of my ear. "I'll fuck you against the goddamn window." The serious expression on his face combined with the threat is damn near intimidating—and I hate how aroused it leaves me.

Baekhyun hoists me up and walks to our room with quick strides, relentlessly keeping his lips glued to mine. He pushes open the door before dropping me unceremoniously onto the mattress. His lips are back on mine before I can chastise him for the mini heart attack, his impatient hands tug at the rest of my clothes. I let him pull off my pants and hurriedly move to unclip my bra in the meantime before his rough actions can rip the expensive fabric.

Baekhyun freezes above me, brown eyes transfixed on my matching red lacy set. It may be winter, but that doesn't mean I can't dress up nicely underneath endless layers of flannel and wool. Although, when I think about what happened not too long ago... Warmth fills my cheeks and I know I'm blushing way too hard to have done this countless times with him.

"Ah." Baekhyun tsks, stopping me from covering my chest. "Take it off." He breathes, soft lips brushing over my neck. "Let me see these tits bounce for me."

My eyes widen at his crude words, a gasp escapes my parted lips when he sucks harshly on a sensitive spot on my neck, pulling down the straps of my bra at a snail's pace. The poor clothing is tossed over his shoulder without a care in the world.

I'm no stranger to Baekhyun's habit of leaving pink and red hues on my skin, but today is different—today it feels like he has something to prove by trapping my skin between his teeth, marking me as his. He doesn't stop at my neck; his restless mouth ventures lower, painting my collarbones and chest with the shape of his lips.

I grit my teeth as he reaches my breasts, determined not to let him win me over so easily. It doesn't matter how much I want to melt under his warm hands mapping out the contours of my waist or tremble in anticipation at his breath fanning over my sensitive nipples. No matter what, I will not crumble... until he does first, at least.

Yeah—easier said than done with the way he's tugging my nipple with his teeth, roughly rolling the other between his fingers. It's all fun and games until his grip tightens on my hip, his pelvis grinding mercilessly against me. A move that has my back arching clear off of the mattress. He just presses me back down to the bed, continuing to alternate between each breast, pulling away minutes later with a wet pop of his lips. He's relentless in using every weak spot of mine. As if he knows what I'm trying to do.

"Not today, baby," He murmurs to my squirming form, chuckling in my ear. I can't help but bite my lip, breath caught in my throat when his hand slides down my body. His large palm covers my clothed core entirely. If it were any other day, I'd be flustered over how true his words from earlier were; the evidence of my previous admiring and current state of euphoria clear as day to his greedy hand, tugging at my last piece of clothing.

My heart races in the realization that I'm lying under him, almost completely bare, as he remains fully clothed besides the ripped shirt clinging to his broad shoulders.

"Ah," Baekhyun smacks my hands away, flashing a grin full of devious intentions. "Don't worry your pretty little head."

He's yanking my underwear down before I can get a word in, tossing them carelessly off the bed and spreading my thighs as far as they'll go.

"Always so ready for me," He muses, spreading my folds apart with his thumbs. I stop breathing entirely when he leans down, spitting onto my pussy. "Your hungry cunt has been waiting all morning for me, hmm?"

My lack of response doesn't bother him in the slightest as he meets my eye, sliding two of his long fingers into my core so suddenly I shout, grabbing his wrist. Baekhyun just pries my fingers off of him before interlocking them with his freehand, bracing our joined hands above my head. My eyes roll back at the burn of the unexpected intrusion. It's a dull, persistent ache while he shoves his fingers deeper into my cunt. He curls them up in a way that has me shaking at the seams, tugging at his silver locks as he brings me dangerously close to the edge. Right when I'm nearing my high, he pulls his fingers out, nonchalantly sucking on them while fiddling with his belt.

I gulp, relaxing back against the sheets. I can't even be mad at this point. Our argument ended the moment I started that fiery-filled kiss, but—

Baekhyun's belt clatters to the floor and his brown eyes have never looked so fierce—so carnal, I wonder if he plans to eat me alive. What I don't expect is for him to crawl further up the bed like an actual predator hunting his prey to hover over me again; his gaze not straying from mine for a second. The warmth of his body encloses me; it's second nature to relax under him when we're like this—when we're touching the tip of the iceberg before diving headfirst into the chilly depths of our lust. Sex with Baekhyun isn't like playing with fire; it's handling dry ice with bare hands.

And being in love with him is one of the most intense and excruciating experiences of my life.

We spend so much time eye-fucking each other that I'm not prepared for the bruising kiss he pulls me into, sliding his cock into my core without a warning.

"Ah—B-Baek!"

"Hmm?" He humors, his low voice filled with lust. "Now she speaks."

"Baekhyun." I gasp when he spreads my thighs wider; the pull from the unfamiliar stretch adds to his incessant pounding—his hips seeming to snap a mile a minute. Oh, please—please don't let both of us have muscle strain tomorrow morning. I swear I've never seen him move this fast for anything. Ever. Baekhyun, what the fuck? Have you started back up on your late-night visits to the gym or something? He's reaching depths he hasn't quite reached before, hitting a spot inside my core that makes me want to cringe away and slam myself onto his cock at the same time.

I yelp out when he tilts my hips at a different angle, not meaning to scratch his back so hard in my hurry to cling onto him. Baekhyun just groans, slamming rougher into me in retaliation, his teeth firmly bite down onto my shoulder.

"Baekhyun! what the—ah—fuck!?" I nearly shriek, appalled and aroused.

Baekhyun smirks, sliding a hand down to press his thumb on my clit. "What's the matter, baby?"

"B-" I can't even say his name without stammering, shaking under him when he slows down to roll his entire body against mine. The only thing I'm capable of at this point is gripping his shoulders, throwing my head back with a loud moan. I always thought of myself as not being a fan of sweat or having any strange, warm liquids touching me, but Baekhyun... Fucking Baekhyun. His sweaty chest brushing over my nipples is making me lose my damn mind—if I was feeling any more horny and adventurous, I'd lick the salty sweat off of his neck.

"Come on." Baekhyun pants with a satisfied grin. Sweat continues to drip from his honey-toned skin, sticking silver locks to his forehead. "Tell me."

The fucker, he knows exactly what's up. It's written all over his face. A part of me doesn't want to beg—my rational side. The one chastising me for falling into bed with him again in the first place. But I don't know how much longer I can take his teasing antics, so despite my stubbornness—despite the heart aching memories creeping up on me in such an intimate moment; I press my body to his.

"Fuck me like you mean it." I pant, yanking harshly on his hair, smirking at his pained hiss until his hips undulate in a new direction. The constant stimulation on my most sensitive spots has my high sneaking up on me so quickly, I don't have time to warn him.

"Bae—!"

Baekhyun's lips crash to mine, swallowing my cry of his name as I fall over that blissful edge. His cock is the only thing on my mind amongst the ringing in my ears—in the minute-long paradise where nothing else matters but our frantic hearts racing as one.

Baekhyun lets out a telling grunt before a burst of warmth fills me up. The remains of his release drip down my thighs with his erratic, shaky thrusts. He doesn't even pull out when he's done. He just leans tiredly over me, coaxing my lips into a lazy kiss. "You're the only one for me." He whispers as if sharing the biggest secret, all rosy-cheeked and wide-eyed.

Beautiful; there's no other way to describe him—in general, in this moment. Nothing compares to his mocha brown eyes that shine brighter than a million stars when his steady gaze sets on me. Nothing compares to the safety of his warm embrace that surrounds me. Nothing could come close to the way he drives me crazy in every single way. Love. Lust. Doesn't matter. If it's with him—for him, it's...

...

Is it worth it?

The emptiness I feel when he gently pulls himself from me triggers every painful memory imaginable: my birthday, the party, our summer fight, his ex, that phone call, his photoshoot...

Baekhyun collapses beside me on the bed, completely oblivious to the war going on in my head. He wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me close to his beating heart.

I wait for him to fall asleep, brushing damp silver locks of hair out of his eyes as his breathing slows. He looks so peaceful like that, so innocent while his face relaxes with sleep. So... So welcoming, like home.

Tears stream down my cheeks, blurring my vision of his twitching brows and pouted lips. I hope he's happy; I hope he got what he wanted.

Carefully sliding out from under his loving hold, I quietly get dressed, collect my duffle bag, and slip out of the room, holding onto the doorknob for dear life. His quiet mumbles drift through the crack of the door, tossing and turning as if already aware of my absence. I have to cover my mouth to contain my sobs.

I love him—I really do, but I...

I can't do this.

I can't take this anymore. If he won't open up to me; if he thinks I'm... I'm unworthy of knowing his past—hell, fuck that. Apparently caring too much leads to being left behind, if that encounter this morning is anything to go by.

My laughter just ends in more sobs, the salty taste of tears on my tongue more bitter with the realization that once again, I've lost.

But at what cost?

The ache in my chest and between my legs is an answer within itself—the last push I need to retrieve my car keys from the counter.

If he wants to be that way, Baekhyun... Baekhyun can do whatever the fuck he wants. What's the difference between me and all the others? What use am I? Is it because I learned how to cook? Clean? I wonder how many of those late nights at work are actually spent bent over his sketchpad. Am I his personal little stay-at-home trophy? Does it feel good to show me around important events? After today, I might as well hang up the thought of ever stepping into his world again. No one wants a possessive girlfriend in their corner of the wrestler ring. No one needs a jealous, nosy, demanding burden weighing them down. And I have my high standards as well.

I can—and will not—be one of those girls.

Not even for him.

•⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •⇔♦ •

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3  P(1) P(2) | Part 4 P(1) P(2) | Part 5 P(1)  P(2) | Part 6 P(1)  P(2)✓ ----- P(3)   P(4)

A/N: I can feel the pitchforks on the rise, l-listen (<.<) just trust me on this, not all is lost.... Or is it?  😇 I’ll try to finish the next part as soon as I can. *cracks fingers* let’s see what this troubled couple gets up to next.

[marmosa]

if it were up to me.

George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: none!!

A/N: i don’t celebrate christmas, but if you do- merry christmas!!!! i hope this is a lovely treat for all of you that do and don’t celebrate the holiday. i’ve been binge watching the movies with my sibling this past week (we’re on winter break right now) and i was just on a roll (finally got some inspo thank god). but i loved writing this piece and i truly hope you all enjoy reading it just as much as i did writing it. happy holidays to you all, i love you tons <3

***

“Are you busy right now?” 

[y/n] looked up from the papers splayed out over the table in front of her, her lips pursing into a little pout of annoyance at her broken spell of silence. She grit down a sarcastic remark and looked over her shoulder towards the source of the sound, the venom bubbling to the tip of her tongue dissolving in an instant as she put a face to the voice. 

“Ah! George! Um, a little bit, but I have a moment to spare. What do you need?” 

He visibly relaxed when the soft tone of her voice ran through his ears, her inviting smile and outturned posture welcoming him into her space, “I wanted to ask you a question actually.” 

[y/n] furrowed her brows and quirked her head to the side, her brain rapidly noting and filing his odd behavior. George was naturally more calm in his pursuits and actions, well as calm as a Weasley twin could be anyway, but this seemed to her a bit overkill. As he stalked over, she picked up on the way he was wringing his hands and the corners of his smile were twitching. It irked her, but she resigned not to mention it. 

“Well, out with it already! You’re making me nervous just standing there,” she chuckled, using her ankle to pull out the chair next to her, motioning for him to take a seat with a jerk of her chin. 

He let out a puff of air and plopped down next to her, slumping his shoulders into the chair. [y/n] couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her at his display of annoyance, his eyes flickering to her face for what felt like the first time since he approached her. He could feel his smile twitch yet again as he rehearsed what he was supposed to tell her. 

“Okay, well it’s less of a question and more of an explanation and then a query,” he explained, obviously trying to dance around getting to the point. 

“Alright, out with it then,” she nodded, raising her brows with a tilt of her head to edge him on. 

“Uhm, Merlin, he’s a bloody git for making me do this,” George groaned, shielding his face with his hands and lulling his head backwards. 

“Who’s a- George if you keep beating around the bush I’m gonna tune you out and get back to work,” [y/n] huffed, her expression falling into one of mild irritation. 

“Sorry! Sorry- uh, you know Emmett right?” George began, his heart twisting in his chest with every word that started to tumble forth from his mouth. 

“Yeah, we have nearly four classes together. What about him?” 

“Well, uhm, he was too nervous to ask you himself- Hufflepuff and all, so he requested my services during potions. Came up to me, sweating awful bad, red up to his neck, and asked that I ask you if you’d go to Hogsmeade with him this coming week,” George finished the last part with venom biting at his tongue, his retelling obviously botched out of Emmett’s favor. 

[y/n] could feel the embarrassment bleed its way into every single crack of her face, her eyes bulging out of their sockets as her brain drowned in it’s process’. She quickly averted her gaze to the papers next to her, grabbing at some blank parchment and her quill. 

“That- uhm, wow! That’s incredibly sweet of him to ask. However-” 

George felt his heart begin soar at the ‘however’, biting back his extremely obvious shit-eating grin fighting its way onto his face, “Yes?” 

“I was actually hoping someone else would ask me to Hogsmeade, well not necessarily ask, more like officiate it as a date of sorts? I-I don’t know, but I unfortunately can’t accept his offer- lovely as it is! Of course,” she rushed out, chewing on the inside of her cheek to try and soothe the discomfort bubbling in her stomach. 

“So, that’s a no?” George questioned for clarification, more to fan his internal flame of victory than get an answer for the Hufflepuff boy. 

“Yeah, it’s a no- oh! But George, do let him down gently please, I know Emmett and he can be a bit overcritical at times. Just let him know it’s not his fault, I just happen to like someone else,” she trailed off, her eyes glued to her hand that had subconsciously shot forward to squeeze George’s wrist as he stood up to go dutifully deliver her answer. 

“Anything for you,” he finally let his smile crack through, his other hand reaching over and squeezing hers, “See you in the Great Hall?” 

“Yeah,” she nodded, retracting her hand and turning back to her work as George padded away, leaving her to her thoughts. 

As soon as she was sure he was out of ear shot she let out a string of curse words, her head falling forward with a defined thunk, “Merlin, now I can’t finish my work at all.” 

***

“[y/n]! What took you so bloody long?” Esme called out from the table, clambering out of her seat to rush over to her friend who looked more than a little flustered. 

“Oh you know, the usual, running into yet another ridiculous unfathomable situation,” [y/n] shook her head, plopping into her seat. 

“Do tell,” Esme hummed, her lips curled up into an expectant smile. 

“Don’t be shy, give us all the details,” Lucile chirped from across the table, pointing at [y/n] with a fork adorned with a chunk of turkey.

[y/n] looked down and across the table, scanning the area to make sure George and none of his pals were anywhere to be seen. She let out a puff of air as soon as she deduced that the coast was clear, motioning for her friends to huddle in as best they could with their seating arrangement. 

“So you know how I usually spend my free period in the library doing homework, right?” 

The two other girls nodded, Esme already giving [y/n] that cheeky, suggestive grin. [y/n] frowned and shook her off, slapping Esme’s shoulder lightly with a plain ‘ew’. 

“Well George came up to me, acting all the more nervous, completely out of sorts for him-,” 

“A Weasley twin? Nervous? Someone pinch me I must be hearing things,” Lucile whistled, frowning when Esme kicked her leg under to table in a silent warning to watch her volume. 

“And then he spends forever getting to the point of his sudden appearance and it turns out Emmett set him to ask me to go to Hogsmeade with him!” 

“The Hufflepuff?”

“Yes” 

“Well, what did you say?!” Lucile urged, setting her drink down to minimize the splash zone had [y/n] given them a surprising answer. 

“No, of course! You know I like-,” [y/n] whipped her head around, doing yet another sweep of the table to ensure she wouldn’t be heard by the wrong people before dropping her voice to a hush, “you know I like George.” 

“No wonder he was nervous!” Esme threw her hands up, earning herself a few awkward glances from the people seated next to them, “he was worried you’d take up Emmett’s offer.” 

[y/n] could feel that same embarrassment from earlier draw itself taut on her features, as she folded into herself, “That’s a load of rubbish.” 

“No, Esme’s right. If you certain he approached you as awkward and nervous as he was, it’s probably because he didn’t want you to say yes to Emmett’s offer,” Lucile concurred, finally directing her attention back to her meal, “besides, I passed him and Lee in the hall earlier and I caught your name.” 

“What-?” [y/n] coughed, nearly choking on her food at Leslie’s far to casual mention of this piece of information. 

“Yeah and then when they saw me they went all quiet and headed the opposite direction of me,” Leslie nodded, biting back an amused smile as she watched [y/n] literally melt in on herself in real time. 

“You’re bluffing! That’s great news innit! Come on [y/n] you’ve gotta let yourself accept that he likes you,” Esme clicked her tongue, elbowing her in the side gently. 

“I won’t because it’s not true. Besides, we’re already going as friends and I think that’s quite alright for me,” [y/n] shook her head, shrugging off Esme’s side eye and disproving frown. 

“Whatever you say, Ms. denial,” Lucile grumbled, pouring some more gravy over her turkey. 

“If you don’t quit picking on me I’m going to head off to the dormitories and forget this interaction ever happened,” [y/n] deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest with a pout. 

“We wouldn’t have to pick on you if you’d just admit that he likes you already!” Esme nearly shouted, sinking into herself slightly when Lucile took her turn reminding her to watch her volume. 

“What’s all this about picking on [y/n]?” 

[y/n]’s face went slack with horror, as her nerves painted themselves plainly obvious on her features. She passed Lucile a pleading look not to mention anything, and Esme didn’t need to be told twice simply by the waves of terror rolling off of [y/n]. 

“Just teasing her for the whole Emmett thing, it’s quite funny if you ask me. Poor lad will just have to find someone else, but so’s life,” Esme chuckled, scooting to the side to make room between her and [y/n] for George to take a seat. 

“Exactly, that’s what I said! Which, by the way, he took the let down very nicely [y/n]. So don’t go beating yourself up over something you couldn’t help,” George mentioned, reaching around [y/n]’s shoulder to give her a squeeze. 

“Thanks George, I appreciate it,” [y/n] smiled, ducking her head slightly to try and conceal the water building up in her eyes purely from nerves. 

“He’s a Hufflepuff, he’ll cry it out, get a few hugs from his pals and move on with it,” Lee noted from across the table, he and Fred taking liberty to sandwich Lucile between them. 

“Aside from him, we heard you already had a fancy in mind- is that true [y/n]?” Fred added, leaning his chin onto his hand, a devilish quirk to his grin. 

“Wouldn’t you like to know,” [y/n] snipped back, sticking out her tongue in defiance, “Why are we even concerned with my love life anyway? Esme might be going with Dina, Lucile has got her hands full of potential suitors, Lee’s got his dates for the next month planned, Fred is practically tripping over himself for his newest infatuation, and George’s got- wait, what’ve you got George?” 

It was George’s turn to feign embarrassment, the red slowly seeping up his neck until it overtook his entire face, “Well, nothing in particular actually, it’s quite complicated-,” 

“Complicated in that his crush is shy and he’s shy and they’re both hopeless but he’d kill me if I tried to help, so we’re all just waiting for a miracle to drop from the sky,” Fred sighed dramatically, reaching across the table to snatch a roll from one of the quickly emptying break baskets. 

“When you put it that way it sounds lame,” George grumbled, passing his brother a bitter look, “It doesn’t matter anyway. Hogsmeade is just a bit of holiday magic, something could happen at any time.” 

“He does make a point there,” Lucile chimed in, nodding her head in agreement.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake, you’re literally living your own version of The Bachelorette- if I can recall that’s what my cousin told me. Anyhow, if anyone needs a bit of holiday magic it certainly isn’t you,” Esme giggled, wiggling her eyebrows at Lucile’s less than amused expression. 

“What’s this Bachelorette you mentioned all about?” Fred quipped, his eyes sparkling with interest. 

“You’d certainly enjoy it, Fred. What with your lifestyle of charm and dazzling your fancies and all,” Esme hummed. 

“Did you just call me a slag?” Fred gasped, faux hurt painted across his face. 

“I did nothing of the sort! Don’t you put words in my mouth,” Esme threatened, pointing an accusing finger at Fred. 

George rolled his eyes at his friends’ antics and decided now was a great a time as any to slip away while everyone was distracted. He carefully elbowed [y/n] who was thoroughly amused with the electric banter flying across the table, her head snapping to the side at his redirection of her attention. 

He mouthed a silent ‘want to get out of here?” to which she responded with an eager nod. George’s smile widened and her made quick work of maneuvering his long limbs out of the table, offering a helping hand to [y/n] shortly after gaining his bearings. 

The two began to head off but not without Lucile calling after them, “Where are the two of you headed!?” 

[y/n] swiveled around with a messily concealed expression of excitement, offering their friends nothing more than a bouncy shrug of her shoulders before she turned back around and quickened her pace to match George’s. 

The cacophony of sounds echoing from the Great Hall slowly trickled down to nothing but a dull murmur, the occasional hallway conversation the only discernible noise through the sleepy castle. 

“So, I take it you needed a breather after that harsh interrogation,” George began, burying his hands into the pockets of his robes. 

“You wouldn’t believe. I swear they were moments away from drilling me for my Ministry administered ID,” [y/n] giggled, shaking her head, “honestly, you’d think they’d get tired of asking a question they never get an answer too.” 

“Very much so. Maybe it’s just blind optimism and a bit of hope that one day they’ll chip away enough at it that you’ll just give in and admit it,” He chuckled, shrugging his shoulders, “But who knows.” 

[y/n] hummed in agreement, pulling her robes tighter around her body to try and hoard every last sliver of heat she could as they wandered the corridors of the castle, “so, what’d you drag me out here to do?”

“Truthfully I just wanted to get out of there, I had no general plan in mind. But hey! I’m a Weasley, we’ll find something to do soon enough,” He grinned ear to ear, making a show of his jazz hands. 

“I’d usually recommend going out to sit under the stars but the snow and cloudy sky do make that a very unpleasant option,” she sighed, blowing out a puff of air from between her lips. 

“Oh! I know, I have the perfect idea,” He exclaimed giddily, “I know you’re going to start out opposed but hear me out.”

George grabbed her hands and drew her to the side, huddling his shoulder to try and minimize his size to capitalize on whatever privacy they had made for themselves in the tiny little niche in the wall. 

“It’s not against the rules is it?” [y/n] questioned, a concerned quirk in her brow. 

“Not entirely,” He trailed off, trying his best to reel her back on board when she looked more than a bit opposed, “But it won’t get us in trouble- or not a lot of trouble, at least. If anything happens I’ll take the blame, I swear on Godric Gryffindor himself.” 

“Fine, fine, tell me your idea,” she giggled, drawing her lip between her teeth to try and get her bubbly laughter under control. 

“Okay, so you know all those dusty, old, empty classrooms on the upper levels?” He paused, waiting for her nod of conformation, “well, they just so happen to be the perfect place to practice charms, spells, and the newest collection of Weasley Wizard Wheeze’s.” 

“You’re letting me see the new line?” [y/n] gasped with glee, her eyes sparkling with anticipation. 

“Not necessarily new, more like a final product. But more or less yes,” He nodded eagerly, his hair shaking with the aggressive movement. 

“Well, what’re you waiting for? Lead the way!” 

“Say no more.” 

***

“You were not lying when you said these places were dusty,” [y/n] coughed, fanning the invisible particles from out of her face, taking in the clothed furniture and dim windows. 

“It’s not the brightest place, but it’s not too shabby either! Watch this,” George muttered a spell and flicked his wand, all the candles and wall fixtures flickering to life before them.  

[y/n] turned to him with an impressed look, her arms crossed over her chest in pride, “Since when have you paid any attention in charms?” 

“Since forever! I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He rolled his eyes, getting on his hands and knees to search under the furniture for his hidden treasure, “ah ha!” 

“What’ve you found?” She quipped, jogging over to help him with whatever his search had brought him. 

“The new line of course,” He grinned, handing her a lovely orange and purple box, pushing himself off the floor to dust the particles off his robes, “Do ya like the packaging?” 

“It’s certainly bright,” She nodded, lifting the box up slightly to examine the bottom, “I like the ribbon though, it’s a beautiful shade of purple.” 

George felt his smile soften as he reached forward and pulled the ribbon loose from the box, dangling it in front of her, “Well then it’s yours.” 

“Really?” She asked softly, setting down the box, taking the soft piece of fabric from him. 

“Of course. It’d probably end up in the trash anyway. It’d look much lovelier in whatever way you intend to put it to use,” He grinned, leaning against the desk that held the box. 

“Thank you,” She muttered sheepishly, reaching behind her to tie up a section of her hair, “I love it already.” 

George could feel the blood rushing to his ears as he looked at her with pure adoration, his heart drumming against his ribcage so aggressively he was sure it was going to beat right out onto that dusty floor. 

“S’no problem,” He tipped his head forward courteously, “now, you wanna try out some Wheezes?”

“You bet I do.” 

***

“I can’t believe you guys managed to make all this stuff!” [y/n] squealed in childlike delight as she pulled yet another one of their confetti party favors, the confetti charmed to bloom into flowers as soon as they hit the ground. 

“It’s our passion, the thing we love most. I’m just glad it’s having its desired effect,” George chuckled, stomping on the now empty box of trinkets to flatten it out. 

“You guys are some of the most talented people I know. You’re incredible George,” She breathed, reaching down to pick up one of the confetti flowers, stroking its petals ever so carefully. 

George felt time stop. Her words looping in his mind like a broken record, her rolled up sleeves, out of place hair, and gentle handling of the flower an image he was never going to burn from his mind. He felt as if he could scoop her up right there and consume her in a hug so strong she’d melt into his arms and never leave them. 

[y/n] glanced over her shoulder at George, who was sitting crisscross on one of the desks they’d uncovered. Her smile faltered when she noted the way he was looking at her, a far-away look in his eyes and a weird quirk to his lips. She was suddenly extremely self-conscious under his gaze and she quickly straightened out her posture, coughing as if to clear her throat. 

“I look rather unkempt now, huh? Reckon I was having a bit too much fun,” She chuckled quietly, clicking her heels together. 

“You look fine,” George spoke up, suddenly in front of her. 

“You’re just saying that to be nice, I know there’s probably confetti in my hair or ash on my cheeks,” She shook her head, eyes flickering to meet his. 

Her heart nearly stopped, his gaze so intense it made her want to sink so far into herself that she just disappeared and never returned. She wanted to know what he was thinking, what had him so trained on her. It was almost certain in her mind that there was something up with her appearance. 

“Well?” She asked, trying to coerce some words out of him. 

“S’just a little smudge of ash, right here-,” He squinted, reaching forward and swiping his thumb right on the apple of her cheek, letting his hand linger on her face a little longer than it needed to. 

“Oh- thanks,” She swallowed, sounding far too breathless for her comfort, but pretending to not notice just how obviously out of sorts she was feeling. 

“No problem.” 

The two stood side by side in their own little world for what felt like forever, until [y/n] felt the bubble of words lodged in her throat finally pop and surge forward, “are you going to Hogsmeade with anyone?” 

Her brain immediately wanted to back peddle and come up with some shitty excuse as to why she asked such an out of place question, but it was near impossible now as George was already jumping to answer her question. 

“I was thinking it was just going to be Fred, Lee, and I. Maybe we’d run into you and your friends. Like every year. But-,” He shrugged, “I was kind of hoping for something else this time ‘round.” 

“Something else?” She echoed. 

“Like a date,” He continued.

“Anyone in mind?” 

George fell silent, offering her nothing more than a silent nod. Because when it came down to it, admitting feelings for someone when they were right in front of your face seemed more daunting than anything. 

[y/n] nodded and shuffled off to retrieve her things, straightening out her dress shirt and pulling on her robes. She could hear George behind her doing the same, a soft gust of wind letting her know he was also tending to the aftermath of their games. 

“Thanks for inviting me out to do this, it was fun,” She spoke up, still not daring to look up from her hands, continuing to pretend that she was still busy fixing her attire. 

“Anytime,” He replied, waving his wand to send the trash to the bin, ‘you’re always welcome to have fun with me.” 

“Good to know,” she hummed softly, “well, I don’t know what your plans for the night are, but I best be getting to bed.” 

George wanted to say something, anything, to try and make it clear that she was the girl he was thinking about. That she was the one he wanted to take to Hogsmeade on a date. That she was the one he wanted to drink butterbeer with, buy a cute gift for, play in the snow with, and then cuddle by the fire after it all. It was always her he wanted to do those things with. Always. 

But his words failed him once more and he finished the last of his cleaning, offering her a small gesture of farewell, “I have to find Fred and Lee, we sort of planned for something later tonight, so...”

“I understand. You lot are always having far more fun than you should be,” She giggled softly, “But I’ll be off then, I don’t want to worry Esme.” 

“Yeah, don’t keep her waiting. Merlin knows she’d have my head if she found out I was responsible for getting you in trouble,” He snickered. 

“That is very much true, she certainly would do that. Anyway, Goodnight George,” [y/n] waved him goodbye, shutting the classroom door behind her with a click. 

***

“You look far too down in the dumps for the night before Hogsmeade, what’s got you so low?” Esme questioned, hopping over the top of the sofa and sliding down next to [y/n]. 

“It’s nothing, really, I’m not upset, just sleepy,” [y/n] assured, shaking her head with a weak smile. 

“I know you and I know a liar when I see one. Come on, out with it, before I go get Lucile to talk your brains out,” Esme huffed, scooting closer and wrapping her arms around [y/n], “you can talk to me y’know.” 

“I know. It’s just-,” [y/n] sighed, letting herself relax into her friends embrace, “Everyone kept saying George liked me and I was really hoping he would’ve built the nerve to ask me to Hogsmeade. But it seems like I was right, and he doesn’t like me that way. I’m sorry to bore you with this topic again, it seems like the only thing we’ve spoken about for the past couple of days, but I- I just wished you guys had been right about us.” 

Esme could feel the sadness building up in [y/n] by the quiver in her voice and softening of her tone. It broke her heart to see her friend so distraught, especially over something as trivial as a boy. But she knew well enough herself how much these sorts of things meant to her and her friends and despite her urge to tell [y/n] to just push him out and party, she knew that would be of no help.

“I understand darling,” Esme cooed, squeezing [y/n]’s shoulder, “and I’m sorry things turned this way. But remember, we’re all going to spend time together tomorrow with our favorite candies and drinks, near the crackling fire with the winter blizzard swirling outside. It’s going to be lovely and just like George himself said, a little holiday magic isn’t the only opportunity to confess your feelings.” 

[y/n] giggled through her sniffles, rubbing her fists into her eyes to try and dissipate the tears that had welled up in her eyes. She knew Esme was right and though all she could feel was a dull hole in her chest at the prospect of only meeting George as a friend tomorrow, she knew Hogsmeade in itself never disappointed. 

“You’re right, no more tears from me, I promise,” [y/n] smiled.

“You better not, tomorrow is about fun, now off to bed! We’ve got a day ahead of us tomorrow!” 

***

The Three Broomsticks bustled with business, students of every kind huddled together with glasses of butterbeer engaged in cheery conversation. The three girls had found themselves tucked off in a cozy little corner, giggling about something or other, lips covered in foam. 

“And that’s when I turned to him and told him to shut his mouth before we both got caught and ended up in detention,” Lucile exclaimed, throwing her hands up and falling back against her chair. 

“Scandal!” Esme and [y/n] gasped, exchanging looks of intrigued horror. 

“There’s no way he did that, not-,” [y/n] stifled a laugh, dropping her tone to a hush “not in the common room.” 

“Oh, but he did!” Lucile broke into another fit of laughter, her head hitting the table with a thunk as she struggled to real herself back in.  

[y/n] finally got a grip of her laughter, trying to equalize her breathing pattern as she scanned the restaurant for familiar faces, her cheery disposition quickly dying out as she recognized the patrons who’d just entered the shop. 

Esme picked up on her change of manner and reached across the table, squeezing her hand with a reassuring smile, “It’ll be fine.” 

[y/n] returned a weak smile and nod, “I know. Don’t worry about me.” 

The three girls sobered themselves up as Lee, George, and Fred made their way over to the table all with cheery grins plastered on their faces. 

“Well ladies, how’s Hogsmeade been treating you so far?” Fred inquired, sliding into the booth next to Esme, Lee following suit.

“You know, gossip, jokes, more gossip-,” Lucile began, giggling at the looks the boys gave them. 

“And lots of butterbeer,” [y/n] added, raising her glass in the air. 

“Speaking of butterbeer, here comes our order,” George noted, rubbing his hands together happily as he slid in next to [y/n] and Lucile. 

“Lovely timing,” Fred noted, the table erupting in a cacophony of ‘thank you’s.

The table broke out into conversation, some involving everyone and others only demanding the attention of a few. Amusement, horror, anger, and disgust all adorned their features as they cycled through topics, never at a shortage of something to grace the table with. 

As time passed they found themselves outside, discussing where to head off to next, everyone with hopes of their own for the rest of the day. It ended up being decided that Esme and Lee would head off to the Sweet’s shop, Lucile and Fred would make a stop at the Instrumental shop for some personal supplies, and  [y/n] and George would be at the bookstore. Then they’d all meet up at one of the gift shops to search for some small gifts and knick-knacks. 

Before they all headed on their own separate ways, Esme made sure to give [y/n] a tight hug and some reassuring words. The group split and left each other to their own devices before they were to regroup. 

“Is there any book you’re looking for in particular?” George asked, quick to keep their dialogue going. 

“Well not really, I’m actually looking for a few bookmarks and some new pens and such. The bookstore has a lovely selection there, so,” [y/n] explained, glad he shouldered the burden of lighting a conversation. 

“That’s nice, reminds me that I do need some new quills. I have gone through far too many for comfort, my mum is going to gut me when we head home for break,” he chuckled, shaking his head with a shudder. 

“Come on, she cant be that bad. Besides, I know a spell to fix them right up, if you ever need it.”

“First off thank you, I appreciate it. Secondly, if you’re so sure you should come over during the holiday’s, meet her for yourself.”

“Are you inviting me over for Holiday break?” She asked, surprise evident in her tone. 

“I guess I am,” He chuckled, “Only if you want to, of course.” 

“I’d be delighted to join your family for the holidays.”

“Terrific! I’ll send an owl to my mum as soon as we return to the castle!” 

The book store run didn’t last for very long considering they both had an idea of exactly what they needed, the only dallied around the new shipment of quills that were fancifully decorated, as the glitter was hardly something anyone could resist. They paid for their things and stepped back out into the frigid cold, the snow surprisingly calming down quite a bit considering they’d expected it to only turn up. 

“Hm, it seems we still have a decent amount of time to spare,” George muttered, glancing down at his wrist watch. 

“What should we do? I doubt the others are finished,” [y/n] exhaled, the plume of air dancing in front of her before blending in with the rest of the atmosphere. 

“I have an idea, but you’re going to have to trust me,” He perked up, that same giddy excitement from the night before written all over his face. 

“As long as you’re not dragging me to the Shrieking Shack, I’m more than happy to come along.” 

“Brilliant, alright then, follow me!” 

***

“Oh, Merlin!” 

[y/n] gaped at the scenery, her eyes bulging out of her head as she took in the beauty around her. The trees towered high over them, covered in sheets of snow, the green peaking out as if to remind them that it was still persisting through the cold. A few patches here and there of purple flowers that had withstood the freezing cold, poking out from under the snow. A lone bench poised in the center of it all, the entire place feeling like a little nook they could call their own. 

“This place is gorgeous George! How ever did you find it?” She breathed, absolutely enamored with the way everything looked. 

“You’d be surprised what you can find with a few years of exploring and adventuring under your belt,” He nodded, a sense of pride swelling in his chest at her display of wonder. 

“Yet again, you are absolutely incredible George,” She said, more to herself than him, but still managing to get him flustered.

“I’m glad you like it, I’d hoped you would. Wanna take a seat?”

“Oh, sure!” 

She staggered over, dragging her feet through the thick layers of snow towards the bench, pulling out her wand to mutter an incantation so that the snow on the bench melted away, leaving it clean and dry for them to sit on. She plopped down with a huff of content, her legs finally getting a break from all their heaving in their monstrous snow boots.  

“I���ve always wanted to bring someone here, y’know,” George sighed, setting his bag of stuff down between his feet. 

“Am I-?” 

“The first person I’ve brought here? Yeah,” He nodded, a small smile unconsciously pushing its way onto his lips. 

“I- I don’t know what to say,” She nearly whispered, taken aback with just how forward he was being and just how lucky of a position she was in, “thank you George.” 

“Of course,” He grinned at her, his cheeks red from the blistering cold. 

“Hey George?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Can I kiss you?” 

His smile faltered and his eyes widened as he processed her request. 

“It’s totally fine if you don’t want to, I just thought I’d ask, because I got a feeling-,” She went off, trying to save whatever was left of her dignity. 

“[y/n]!” He grabbed her face, turning her head so she was facing him again, “you can.” 

He pulled her into him, their lips connecting in a sweet exchange. She felt her bag slide out of her lap as she scooted closer to him, her arms wrapping around his torso, trying to pull him into her the best she could with their awkward positioning. He did the same, pressing into the curve of her body as he held her face like if he let go she’d vanish. 

It was a soft and drawn out kiss, the two finally reveling in the fact that they’d both gotten what they’d so desperately wanted all this time. George could practically feel himself going lightheaded from just how overwhelmed he was. 

When they pulled away, he had that same grin, giddy joy practically radiating off of him, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.” 

“Me too,” she giggled, unwrapping her arms from around him to reach forward and tuck his stray hairs back under his hat. 

“Can we do it again?” He asked, eyes wide with childlike anticipation. 

“You can do it as much as you’d like, darling. I’m all yours from here on out,” She hummed, slinging her arms around his neck

“Absolutely wicked! Now c’mere, love.”

[breitzbachbea]

📒💖

Emi, I'm kissing you on the mouth right now, you're so sexy. In general but also for taking the bait.

Put “📓” or some other version of a book emoji into my inbox and I’ll explain the plot of a fanfiction that I haven’t written but daydream about.

The Constantinople AU

This AU is from 2017 and came about because I watched a TED-ED video about Constantinople's walls, relistened to the Aladdin soundtrack and because I had earlier talked with a friend about how I had not really seen people make a genie a woman. I came back years later to explain it to my friend Jonah and add new stuff and this year I showed it to @amber-isnt-a-precious-stone to add even more things. It's one of my favourite AUs for sure.

Dramatis Personae:

- Herakles Karpuzi (APH Greece) as Son of the Roman emperor and heir to the throne - Sadık Adnan (APH Turkey) as Soldier in the Ottoman army and Imposter Prince - Dilan Taş (Human OC) as Jinn and Sadık's unsuccessful wingwoman - Athanasios Karpuzi (Human OC) as the Roman emperor and serial skirtchaser - Salvatore Vento (Human OC) as Advisor to the emperor and Fuckface McBadDad - Michele Vento (APH Sicily) as Herakles' childhood friend

The Happenings™:

- It's set in Constantinople in an alternate Universe, close to ours. It’s the late High Middle Age/Early Late Middle Age (depending on how you want to periodize. I am working with how the German Middle Ages are divided, which is arguably a very bad method for classifying Byzantine. But this is my silly Hetalia AU, not my term paper). Around 1300, I’d say.

- Athansios Karpuzi is the current Roman Emperor, which makes Herakles the heir to the throne. Athanasios is desperately trying to wed his son off to any available suitors to form new alliances, but two things keep getting into the way: 1. Herakles is thoroughly uninterested in playing along with Athanasios’ plans. He’s not a chess piece on his father’s board if he's got anything to say about it. 2. Salvatore Vento is Athanasios’ closest consultant and protests any marriage for whatever reason he can find. For the sole reason that he has been eyeing the throne for himself the entire time and wants to marry his own son, Michele, to Herakles.

- Like in my Hetalia AU "Like Father Like Son", Salvatore and Athanasios trust each other as far as they can throw one another. There is no genuine trust here at all, no sympathy, really, they just stick together because they know the other is useful. Have some assorted banter as result of this:

Salvatore: "Immortal what a name! What a title to bear! Although immoral would have fit you much better." [Athanasios’ etymology is “immortal”]

S: "Maybe you wouldn't have to struggle to find a suitable bride for your son if you stopped dragging every young woman within and from outside Constantinople to bed." Athanasios: "He's into guys too, problem solved." S: "Oh, yeah, me dumbass thought you needed stop whoring around, how silly of me."

A: "If he is into anything at all. But if I have another child, they might keep this empire going." S: "No legitimation to the lineage's claim to power like a gay loner and a bastard child." A: "Ah yes, I hired the man whose wife ran away with his son so he could berate me about family life. How I value your opinion, Salvatore." S: "She didn't run away." A: "No, she just hides and sends you people until she can get her divorce. I'm very inclined to give it to her."

S: "They're childhood friends! They'd make a great couple!" A: "All I can hear is what a great emperor you'd make, ruling on my corpse."

- So. Herakles is staunchly resisting any marriage to anyone and minding his business one day, walking along the great walls of Constantinople. He stops to look out into the surrounding area and suddenly, hears a noise. Confused, he looks down and sees someone scaling the wall. Sadık looks up and sees the most beautiful man he has ever seen … spotting him trying to get into the city.

- Sadık is part of the Ottoman Turks, who’re conquering the area around Constantinople these days. He’s some nobody in the army and thought he’d give it a shot and get into the city by himself to earn some fame (and money).

- Herakles is seriously impressed Sadık managed to actually almost scale the famously impenetrable walls of the city. Not impressed enough to actually let him in. So these two banter a bit, Sadık now distracted by this hunk in front of his nose. Herakles correctly assesses that he’s a Turk and says of himself that he’s the emperor’s son. Sadık: “Hey, hot stuff, if that’s true and it’s so impressive, why don’t you let me in as a reward?” Herakles: “Yes, of course. And then I’ll open the gates for the rest of your people, so that you can just walk in and take the city. What impossible thing do you want to happen next, a kiss on the mouth?” Sadık: “What’s so impossible about that?”

- Either way, Herakles threatens to sick the guards on him, which leads to a “Oh no you wouldn’t” - Herakles grins and definitely would, so Sadık has to retreat. (#Don’tSickTheGuardsOnMyAssYou’reSoSexyAhaha).

- He goes back to camp, having gained nothing but a crush. He gets in real trouble for rummaging around the booty, where he finds an oil lamp and WOULDN’T YOU KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NEXT. Dilan, a Jinn, pops out and Sadık uses his first wish to get out of trouble. Once that is done and the two have a moment of peace, he's thinking about what to do next and his mind circles back to Herakles.

- Dilan: "Ah yes, they always want something with love ... so who struck you and what's the problem?" Sadık: "Well ... I don't really know if it's true but he said he was the son of the emperor. He certainly looked the part! And I didn't really want to wait for him to call the guards to confirm it." Dilan: "Wait ... so you want to get with the son of the Roman emperor?" Sadık: "If that handsome little shit didn't lie to me, then yes." Dilan: "Isn't that a little out of your ballpark?" Sadık: "What, is it out of yours? Can't help me in that case, magic lady?" Dilan: "Psht, don't make me laugh! I can make the impossible happen, just tell me what you need." Sadık: "I dunno ... I guess getting inside the city?" Dilan: "That's it? That's all you need? That's less than a no-brainer -" Sadık: "Oh yeah, if it's so easy then, save that second wish for later. I got past one of the walls already once, I'll figure that out without your magic." Dilan: "Alright, alright ... and what about the wooing of your sweetheart?" Sadık: "That we'll see to once we're there ..."

- Dilan and Sadık chitchat while they make it to Constantinople. Dilan spends some time in the lamp, because walking is boring, but she does tell him that she's pretty sick of being in there. So that's where Sadık learns about her wishing to be free. Dilan in turn learns that Sadık doesn't have such a rosy life either (especially because now he can't return to the army, after he basically deserted).

- So they get to Constantinople and decide to actually factcheck if they got the right guy - and if yes, some general information about the emperor's son. Luckily enough, a friendly trader/tradesman tells them a bit about the city and the imperial family. Dilan: "So, did you by any chance ever see the emperor's son?" Trader: "Oh, well, that's an odd question, isn't it? But since you don't seem to be from here, I can understand the curiosity. Well, let me think ... You often see him only from afar ... during a triumph where he had accompanied his father during the campaign I got to see him up close. What a regal figure there at the head of the troops!" Sadık is too lost in the vision of his crush all decked out in military gear on a horse. And then taking all that gear off and being a regal figure while he fucks Sadık into the sheets … Dilan: "Yeah, yeah, yadda yadda, we need something more concrete. Height, hairstyle, haircolour, what does the dude look like?" The trader/tradesman is a little baffled but does provide a description that lines up with who Sadık saw. So with that information, they start to wonder how to woo a future emperor.

- Luckily, now that the trader/tradesman thinks they're here for imperial gossip, he actually mentions the fact that Emperor Athanasios hopes for his son to follow his footsteps and is currently looking for a suitable match, so that Herakles can be of political use even while he's still in charge. So Dilan and Sadık get an idea how to get into the city and Herakles heart. Or his pants. Milestones are still up for negotiation.

- After the grand entrance happened, where Herakles definitely took offense at either "Heard your prince was a sight lovely to see" or "Heard your prince was hot, where is he?" because either question was accompanied by Sadık's flirty looks, Athanasios actually lets Sadık and Dilan into the palace. There he and Salvatore discuss the entire thing, aka if whoever Sadık pretends to be is a good match.

- While they talk political stuff and snark, because of course Salvatore is against it, Sadık continues to feel very smug in his new princely identity and makes flirty eyes at Herakles. Herakles is just like "ugh" and much more happily plays with his cats. Which tbh sounds like they're 16 or something, but they're not that much younger than in canon (I think they'd be 22 and 24 here).

- Hijinks ensue. Herakles tells his dad that he’s a Turkish soldier that tried to sneak into the city and Athanasios doesn’t believe him, thinking Herakles is now lying badly to not get married. Dilan and Sadık are developing a friendship that is best described as hoes being bros.

- Dilan: "Look, you like cats. Cats are furry. Hairy, if you will. You know who else is hairy? Sadık. He's juuust as hairy as a cat - shhhht, I'm wingmanning for you and it's working great, you can thank me later."

- At first, Dilan mostly employs her magic for some silly little things with Sadık to woo Herakles. It doesn't work very well. Herakles: "I know it's magic, that's not impressing me - Okay, it is kinda cool, but you're still a dick." Dilan: "But a dick with a cool sidekick, come ON! What else do you want me to do to make the nerd viable?!" Sadık: "You call that wingmanning?!"

- Once Dilan realizes dickbags Athanasios and Salvatore are, she also uses little magic tricks to continously make their lives worse. Ironically, this may be what finally endears her and Sadık to Herakles. (If you haven't noticed, he doesn't like his father very much and Athanasios doesn't care for him aside from being a political pawn).

- At one point, Michele shows up at court! Herakles is overjoyed to see his childhood friend, which he hadn’t seen in years! Sadık is absolutely not, because it looks like just when he and Herakles almost had something, this twat shows up and steals the show!

- Dilan: "Well, I can't make him not love this dude, but I could beat the dude up." Sadık: " ... keep that in mind."

- However, when Dilan goes to investigate what Michele is doing here (and wingwomanning again), this ensues: Dilan: "Hey brah, what's up, why so blue looking? Is it because your boo just told you you ain't his number one anymore?" Michele: "I, eh ... no ... May I ask who you are?" Dilan: "Just one of the servants of the insanely charming and powerful - and hairy - Prince who's here to marry the Prince. Yep, he's sooo gonna marry that guy." Dilan: "There was a whole musical number about it, you should have seen it, I was on top of my game." Michele: "Sure heard about it, you stirred up trouble here. Hope it helps ... I'm not saying that Herakles should marry someone his dad set in front of him, but it'd be nice if he found someone at last. He told me he was very lonely the last years ... I don't want to leave him behind just as lonely again." Dilan: "Yeah, it'd be - Leave him behind?"

- Dilan: "Good news! His loverboy is not here to stay! He wants to go to the west, he's just here because of his terrible dad!" Sadık: "Oh, that's good! Wait ... isn't his father that asshole of an advisor?" Dilan: "Yeah. Why." Sadık: "The guy who wanted to marry his son to Herakles since apparently forever?" Dilan: "Yeah, but his son is not going to marry him." Sadık: "I smell a trap 10 miles against the wind."

- There is no trap however. Herakles realizes that the crush on Michele is nothing but a childhood crush and has to be left in the past … and that he wants to move forward with Sadık. When he wants a conversation one-on-one, Dilan wants to make it a one-on-two, but Herakles asks her if she doesn’t want to keep Michele company in the gardens, it’s not gonna take long, an hour or two at most. Then she can also fetch Michele when they’re done, so that Herakles can say goodbye before he leaves for Sicily.

- Dilan thinks about it, finds it’s not a trap (and if it was, nothing she and her fists couldn’t solve) and goes in the garden. There she talks with Michele and makes the mistake to either show off her magic powers, tell Michele of TurGre’s meetugly (#Don’tSickTheGuardsOnMyAssYou’reSoSexyAhaha) or to be like: “Hey, do you wanna know a cool secret? Sadık isn’t a Prince, all of this is my doing. Pretty cool, eh?”

- Unfortunately, they’re not alone. Salvatore was searching for Michele in the gardens, to get his “fucking rotten brat of a son” to play along after all instead of disappearing once again. So he overhears this. Salvatore: "Oh, so Prince Sadık is not a Prince? That's a funny joke indeed and I'll laugh my ass off the hardest in the end."

- So just when Herakles and Sadık had time to talk about their feelings and confess and, also, you know, make out and fumble for good measure, they get interrupted. Literally when Herakles was finally stripped down to his tunic and Sadık slid his hand underneath it.

- Athanasios: "This is gonna be the last wall you breached, you little rat." Herakles: "Dad! Stop it!" Athanasios: "This man nearly ruined our dynasty. Arrest him." Salvatore: "Arrest the man indeed. Go and get the ex-emperor." Athanasios: "Ex-Prince. It's not the right time for your snark." Salvatore: "I'm not talking about that small fish. Guards - arrest this careless idiot who nearly ruined our city by letting a scammer into its walls! Clearly the emperor's been in on this and can't be trusted!" Athanasios: "You've lost your mind." Salvatore: "You've lost yours and it's actually the thing you'll miss the least when syphilis is going to eat away the last of your rotten brain in the dungeons. So get him! And that ottoman faker, too, just get the trash out of here."

- The scene ends rather dramatically, because I love the thought of Michele and Dilan rushing to their help, but they get held back. Dilan maybe gets restrained by some anti-magic stuff. And Dilan begs Sadık to use his last wish to help him. To solve this problem. But Sadık refuses, because he promised to use it to set her free. So Dilan is just livid and upset, distraught, yelling at him to let her do something while he gets taken to the dungeons.

- So now Salvatore’s in charge and setting his plans into motion. PR is of course the first thing that needs to be done, so there’s a speech to Constantinople’s masses: "But, as you know, I respect and regard the royal family, the entire dynasty, more than any of you! So I am not going to assume power, it'd be a crime against God himself who granted us this emperor, if I had removed him for anything but his unstable condition and his tragic mistake of almost letting his lineage being tainted! Not to mention that this would have been the end of our beloved empire, our city, suddenly overrun and ruled by those barbarians! No, of course I'll give my power to the true heir who was merely a victim to his father's incompetence. To prove I really mean it, I'm even going to give up my son to the Prince, to forever bind my loyality to the throne!"

- Michele: "I hold no more respect for you as father as I did when we left. I'm not going to play along your perverted plan." Salvatore: "Well Michele, if you don't respect me as father, then maybe you'll respect me as the Roman Emperor!"

- Meanwhile, in the dungeons, Athanasios and Sadık have some great chitchat. Sadık: "Guess that's some quality father and son in law bonding time, eh?” S:“Though I'm pretty sure your son would rather call me daddy than you." A: "Once this entire drama is over, I'll have you decapitated. Or just kick you back to your people and let them handle this." S: "Ah, but when I came here as a fake prince, your arms and gates were wide open. Should've listened to your son when he told you so."

- Here’s also some Salvatore content: Athanasios: "And now you strut around in my clothes. I'm surprised they even fit you fatass!" Salvatore: "Oh, the entire imprisonment is really getting to you, ain't it, emperor tightlips? Ah, I meant - ex-emperor tight lips. Now you've sunk low enough to insult me with such details. Is it because you have nothing else left now that you're off your high horse?" Salvatore: "I thought so. At least you're enough of a sound mind to not threaten me with 'once I get out of here' hot air. Because we both know you're not getting out of here in a lifetime anymore. And yes, I’m wearing your rags, since I’ve got no time to waste.” Salvatore to Sadık: "Actually, it's sad that you aren't going to be there to watch it. Although, I think a public execution would just spice the entire wedding festivities up, if I think about it."

- Ah yes. The wedding. Herakles: "You look great today, my love. Like a polished jewel." Michele: "Thanks. I'd never seen a man more handsome than you though. Truly, a prince with all his qualities seen right away." Both: -sigh- Ft. Dilan, who’s just watching the kids sadly and is trying to reassure them she got this, she’s gonna find a way, it’ll be fine!!!

- Herakles and Michele wonder why Sadık didn't use that wish. To which Dilan replies he said he'd free her with it, but she didn't believe he'd actually uphold that promise. And he shouldn't have because now she's useless and he's in trouble. (And Hera only falls more in love with Sadık, because being a good person is HELLA swoony.)

- Dilan also tries to cheer them up and I believe she can still do small magic tricks, she just can't get out of whatever shackles/confinement she is in. So when she isn't despairing or raging, she tries to cheer Herakles and Michele up with some silly little tricks. She shapeshifts into their fathers to make fun of them. Which leads them to an idea ...

- I have no idea what it is though. I only know that the grand final and resolution involves shapeshifting. If anyone who's better at plots wants to give me ideas, please do.

- However they manage to stop Salvatore's machinations, this is what follows: Salvatore gets thrown into the dungeons. Herakles decides to not let his father out and instead take the crown himself. He becomes emperor and marries Sadık. Sadık uses his last wish to set Dilan free. Michele goes to travel to Sicily, promising he’ll write letters to them and come visit some day (Dilan promises the same).

- The end of Salvatore and Athanasios rotting in jail together is SO satisfying to me, bc now that they are useless to each other, there is nothing left to do but be a pain in each other’s ass. They hate each other and they DESERVE EACH OTHER.

Sequel Bait:

- Before we get to the sequel bait, let me give you some prequel bait for a change. Here's a little "what if one of the many suitable matches for Herakles had been one of the Beilschmidt brothers" scenario. Plus free medieval history lesson:

- Now for the actual sequel: Three years come and go. Herakles and Sadık settle in their new rules as emperor and ... emperor's husband. (I don't know if Byzantine empresses were "put into office" in the same way the Emperor was. If someone is more knowledgeable about this than me, correct me).

- Their marriage is going swell, however both struggle in their new official roles. Herakles faces all the administrative problems and tough decisionmaking that comes with being a ruler, while Sadık struggles to be accepted by the people of Constantinople. Where Herakles tends to take care of the court, Sadık tries his hand at being a military leader.

- One morning, Sadık wakes up with Herakles in the room. Which should not be surprising, if it wasn't for the fact that Herakles had left the city yesterday. He's oddly nonchalant about it when Sadık asks him and also ... weirdly chipper? Eager? Kitschy in his flirting? He's at first flattered, but soon very confused by everything and wonders if either he hit his head real hard in his sleep or if Herakles fell off his horse when he tried to make it out of the city.

- Turns out none of it, because after some more eyelash fluttering, his "husband" goes POOF! and turns out to be Dilan, who's on the floor laughing. "You should have seen your stupid face! Really! Wait, I'll show you!"

- After Dilan is done shapeshifting into Sadık, absolutely overacting his reaction and argueing with him about it, they finally get to catch up. Turns out that Dilan was bored by travelling around the world and wanted to check in on her old buddy.

- She couldn't have chosen a more opportune time to do so. Once Herakles returns, he ... at first has a weird reunion with his husband. Sadık is kind of wary around him and starts to list his attitude and general personality traits/ticks as proof for ... something. Takes a while for Herakles to get the news that Dilan is back, too.

- Herakles is very relieved to hear that! He wanted to confide something in Sadık, because after he had returned to the city, someone had taken him aside. Natasa Simonides, an old and trusted courtly advisor, needed help. Recently, her husband Ibrahim disappeared and she's worried.

- Natasa also told Herakles a secret: Ibrahim is a Jinn, which is why his disappearance worries her even more. Herakles informs Sadık and asks Dilan if she knows anything, but she sadly hasn't heard anything either. - Before she can zip off and see if she can find Ibrahim, Herakles asks another favour of her - to educate Natasa's twins, Timothea Farah and Omar Veniam instead. Natasa thinks they may be able to find their father, but they don't know they're half-Jinn, so they'd need some guidance. Dilan happily agrees to be their teacher!

- My only more in-depth infos on Jinn and their children with humans comes from this Monstrum video by PBS Storied. I don't think Thea & Omar would need to be taught by anyone to be seers and how to be in communication with non-human spheres, but it makes for a better story.

- So Dilan is off to teach the kids while Sadık volunteers to go and search for Ibrahim. Herakles resumes his imperial role in the city.

- It's not really fun and as the people become more and more agitated with the status quo, more and more people "remember" that the old emperor is still around. Enough people are going "What's that kid knowing anyways?! All those highfangled ideas and useless reforms, for what?" that a select few decide to stage a coup by releasing Athanasios from the dungeons.

- Now, I still haven't decided if Salvatore also gets let out. The problem is that I really would begrudge him his freedom ... but I also begrudge Athanasios his freedom! It doesn't feel fair that one bastard gets to walk free and the other doesn't!

- Out in the field, Sadık isn't having much more luck. No Jinn in sight and the trouble he has with a few of the men that accompany him keeps him thinking about the acceptance problems again. He really wishes at one point that Herakles wasn't emperor at all. You can imagine how terrible he feels for these thoughts when news of the coup catches up to them. Be careful what you wish for and all that jazz. On top of that, he gets into trouble as well - betrayed by some of the men he had taken along. He gets stuck in some place like a cave or an abandoned house he was investigating ...

- Sadık finds a large sealed bottle and thinks 'Well, what's the worst that could happen?' He is greeted by a GIANT cloud of smoke instead of anything edible/drinkable. By the time the cloud is human-shaped, he already has a giant grin on his face. Sadık: "Hah! I have a sixth sense for this kind of stuff!" Jinn: "Greetings, mor-" Sadık: "Yeah, yeah, quick question, is your name Ibrahim? Or do you know one of your kind called Ibrahim who's been passing through recently?" Jinn: "My name is Ibrahim - " Sadık: "Great! You know a Greek lady called Natasa? I take that look as a yes. Okay, so first wish is to get us out of here, second wish we'll see, third is like freeing you from the whole servitude bit - You do the three wishes thing, right? Anyways, your wife and kids are wishing for dad to come home, so get us out of here, you'll get explanations on the way back."

- In the meantime, Dilan and her protégés, along with Natasa and Herakles, have been trying to figure out how to solve the problem at court. It doesn't help that the news of Sadık's troubles also reached them (I know the speed of spreading information may be historically hella inaccurate, but I need it for the drama). So Dilan is torn between helping her best bud and helping the rest at court. The Greeks cook up a plan and assure her that she should go and help Sadık, they've got this.

- The plan is to get Athanasios to do something incredibly stupid that would immediately turn the people against him. They exploit the fact that Athanasios likes to listen to words that fall from pretty lady's mouths. So Timothea flatters her eyelashes and promises to tell him something of a vision she had ... that the divine has something to tell him through her. (Don't worry for her, she may have to endure his fingers under her chin, which is infuriating and nauseous enough, but no more skin contact than this). Thea gets backed by her brother to lend it more credibility once Athanasios considers with his head and not his dick.

- And we can all appreciate that Dilan has been sent away, otherwise the scene would have been like this: Thea: "The spirits are talking to me about you ... " Dilan: "Mhm, mhm, indeed, I can hear them to. They're saying that you're a bitch!"

- Dilan in the meantime reaches Sadık, Ibrahim and those of his troop that haven't betrayed and abandoned him as soon as they heard of the coup. A little happy reunion before she immediately fills them in on what's happening.

- They come up with a plan themselves to finally get rid of Athanasios and the Simonides and Herakles have begun to sweat a little back home, because Athanasios mistake of listening to the twins' advice has bought them time, but not really solved the problem yet. Which is when Dilan and Ibrahim sweep in, concocting an illusion powerful enough to wrap up everyone in Constantinople and make Athanasios seem like the literal devil. Some mass-hallucination miracle bullshit, truly, to assert that he doesn't deserve the throne.

- Maybe for good measure, Athanasios disappears after the illusion is over. Dilan and Ibrahim have no idea where he went, they say with a smile.

- Another grand finale! The four lovers are reunited, Thea and Omar are overjoyed to have their dad back and he is overjoyed to have his kids back. When Dilan tells the Simonides twins that they did a great job, she's a good teacher after all haha!, Ibrahim and Natasa invite her to stay. Dilan says that they don't need her, surely, now that Ibrahim can teach them, but Ibrahim says he could use some help. Herakles also encourages her, saying that he'd love to have her at court - and Sadık also bullies her into staying. "What do you wanna do, see the world again? Didn't do much for your peanut brain the first time around, maybe hit the books together with Hera so that you'll be a passable teacher some day."

- Dilan and Omar also have evolved a crush on one another during this entire mess. That's what I'll leave you with - all well that ends well.

Also hey you! Thanks for reading all of this! Here's a little bonus content if you made it this far!

A wonderful fanart of Michele and Salvatore by my beloved friend C0FFINATED over on twitter!

Here's an amazing commission of the Greeks and Turks by @captkirkland ! I'm not sure if I'm allowed to repost the pictures myself on tumblr & you shoud reblog it from him anyways. Show him and his amazing art some love! From left to right it's Timothea, Herakles, Omar, then Dilan, Sadık and Havva (who's not featured in this AU, rip. Things would have worked to well with their brainpower).

Thanks for reading this! Hope you have a wonderful day!

[feralnumberfive]

The Rewatch Academy: Episode 6 of Season 1

“The Day That Wasn’t”

I am in no way a good analyst so my little analysis and speculations probably sound a bit goofy or pretty wild and probably mean nothing at all. Everything I put into this post about each episode is purely what I noticed or thought, whether it’s funny or serious. I will be making jokes, so please just leave it at that (in no way am I trying to make fun of an actor and or character!) I am also in no way saying I noticed this stuff first. This is just what I noticed while rewatching these episodes

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

| 1x01 | 1x02 | 1x03 | 1x04 | 1x05 |

☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂ ☂

☂ Klaus is lucky that he never got the briefcase shot up

☂ *Hears Klaus flush the toilet and talk* Luther: Oh good, you’re up

☂ Also Luther gave Klaus about two seconds to get up before hounding him again on getting downstairs

☂ Sounds like Tom’s accent slipped a little bit when he said “three days”

☂ Yeah they needed to have a family meeting right away and yet they took the time to go get coffee or at least order it and have it delivered

☂ “Old bastard” and “Our little psycho” 

☂ I still don’t get at this point how they wouldn’t believe Five. Look at him, he himself is evidence of his time traveling! He was gone for 45 years, but to them it was only 17. Either way they try to grasp at that, Five would look older if he made it back without messing up. He knew about their father’s death without anyone telling him. I really think all the mistrust comes from the way he looks and the way he acts (they obviously believe he’s just crazy right now)

☂ “What did Five even see?”

☂ Also throw back to 1x02 and I didn’t realized this until now but Five doesn’t have his tie

☂ I know it’s for the title card gag but no one questions the random umbrella falling and popping open

☂ I aspire to be as sarcastic as Hazel

☂ So where exactly is The Commission HQ at? Is it a random location in the real world? If so then wouldn’t normal people happen to stumble upon it? What about their location in space in the comics? Is this in space?? All we know is that it’s in/based off of the year 1955

☂ “I’d like to discuss the logistics of my family’s safety at your earliest convenience.” He cuts right to what’s most important to him. No “How will you stop the apocalypse?” or “What’s my job?” and even “How will my body replacement work?”

☂ Five sounds almost like he’s snapped back into a work mindset. He's suddenly polite and calm with The Handler. Maybe being back in a work environment has made his brain automatically switch into being more professional. However he might also be acting this way to try to throw her off of him being antsy with a plan

☂ Here's some Commission posters shown throughout 1x06

☂ One of us, one of us, one of us-

☂ So basically The Commission makes up history? How do they know what to do and when to make something happen? How do they know it’s right? And what’s The Commission supposed to do when the world ends? Haven't they already fixed stuff in the past or are there just continuous time loops so they need to make sure things happen over and over again? If multiple historical events happen with multiple ways they are made, then which one gets to be in the original timeline??

☂ Dot: No hard feelings! 😁

Ma’am does it look like he’s going to accept that

☂ Wait why are Hazel and Cha-Cha considered the best Temporal Assassins if Five was/is the best?

☂ Well Five has the job of taking down the Hindenburg again but this time from behind a desk. So it’s possible to accomplish “corrections” without actually having assassins do the work. So I guess there’s just so many timelines that they need to fix every single one of them over and over? That sounds like a pain in the ass

☂ TUA portraits!

☂ Y’know I have to agree with Allison on this one. Vanya was left out, however she’s offering to talk with her about the important family matter and Vanya is just denying it. I get she’s upset, but her sister is offering to include her. After Vanya leaves Allison immediately wants to go after her to talk with her. On the other hand Allison should have told her it was an emergency meeting and that they didn’t have the time to ask Vanya to join them

☂ Klaus seems genuinely concerned/upset for Vanya

☂ “We need to figure out what causes the apocalypse. Now, there are loads of possibilities. Nuclear war, asteroids.” Wow spot on, Luther! I can’t believe they actually included foreshadowing for both apocalypses (even though technically it was a chunk of the moon, not an asteroid.) I wonder how much foreshadowing for S3 was put into S2.......

☂ I know it’s big joke about Luther and the moon, but the poor guy just really believes that he was on the moon for an important reason. I mean if I were in his shoes I would believe him too since he had to send a lot of daily updates and samples

☂ “Klaus shockingly has a point. What gives us a win this time?” Shhhh careful Diego, he’s right behind you

☂ Luther is initially the only one onboard with Five on trying to stop the apocalypse. All the others want to go off and do their own thing before the world ends. He tries to get The Umbrella Academy back together to work as a team, but his leadership skills are now severely lacking. Do people *cough cough* mainly people who hate him *cough cough* overlook Luther wanting to also get his family together to stop the apocalypse with his family? Definitely. 

☂ “We need the full force of the Academy to stand a chance.” Well golly gee, Allison, what did did Luther just try to do? Was that not him trying to round up all of The Umbrella Academy to stop the apocalypse? 

☂ Even though Vanya is ranting, how does she not hear all the creaking metal and shaking cars?

☂ *it’s sunny around them but just the block they’re walking on is rainy until she calms down* “ThAt’S a CoInCiDeNcE.” 

☂ The hall floor and Diego’s floor are so dusty

☂ It’s sweet that Diego wants Klaus to get clean in a safe way instead of going cold turkey 

☂ Dot, what does “utter silence” mean to you?

☂ “Look at you, deadly little thing.” You’re not wrong, but I don’t think he appreciates being called “thing”

☂ Such a smug smile

☂ So how does Five know all of this about Karl and his son? Does it talk about Otto never washing his hands in the file? That seems like an oddly specific detail but I guess in a case file it gives as many details as possible for the worker to figure out who needs to get assassinated

☂ There are a few cog references all relating to The Commission, so I wonder if this is a nod to “Teenagers” or if they’re just using this terminology

☂ Odd tattoos (sorry for the super blurry pic)

☂ “Can I ask you a cuckoo bananas question?” Hazel is such a fun guy

☂ “Wouldn’t it be nice to kill who you want for a change?” You mean like straight up unhinged murder? 

☂ The first time I watched this Hazel and Cha-Cha scene I for sure thought that Hazel was a dead man

☂ This scene just absolutely breaks my heart 💔

☂ *skips 25:24-27:42*

☂ Diego is just so accepting to everything Klaus is saying

☂ I’m sorry, are we suddenly on the set of The Phantom of the Opera?

☂ Diego, I think you’re forgetting a very important person in your life who you let down too who is also dead......(poor Ben can’t believe what his brother just said so he leaves)

☂ “Ordinary is not a word I’d use to describe you.” You’re right, it’s “Extra Ordinary” ha! Sorry Vanya, I had to use that joke

☂ Well at least we know Five ate a sandwich 

☂ How exciting! The same division that made a simple candy taste like a candy from the past, but technically it’s not the past since The Commission HQ is based in 1955, is building a human body! That sounds so promising 

☂ Sooooo whatever happened to Five’s new body? Is it just sitting in a lab somewhere?? Or is The Handler just lying about it to try to get Five to stay at The Commission?

☂ With the amount of time Five was staring at the suit, it obviously hurt him to know that while he has a new body within reach, he’s not going to get it because he’s about to leave

☂ “Course it’s a bit easier to see from 30,000 feet.” What is she talking about Reconnaissance aircraft? There was no mention of aircraft though so why would she bring that up? My closest guess is that she’s referring to strategic bombing in general, or even the bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki

☂ It sounds like Five suddenly has a New York accent when he says “operator” when talking to The Handler about Gloria

☂ Fuck you, Veggie Tales Hargreeves

☂ *skips 36:47-39:48*

☂ Well there’s your hit, Klaus

☂ I love the camera moving with Klaus as he falls and the transition into Vietnam

☂ “Lock and load, Charlie’s away!” Wikipedia’s definition of a “Charlie” is  an American military slang referring to the Viiet Cong and North Vietnamese soldiers

☂ Klaus desperately calling out for a medic hurts my heart

☂ Well Luther if you had left then your body wouldn’t be the way it is now

☂ *fucking skips 45:41-50:00* 

☂ Ooooh I just really love the entirety of the “Kill Of The Night” scene! If you listen to the lyrics it’s about someone luring someone into a trap to get revenge because they messed with the wrong person (it’s also about love but we’re going to ignore that part). I personally believe it’s aimed at The Commission from Five because the entire time it plays he’s messing things up for them and in some way it’s like a little bit of revenge from him

☂ Why is Gloria confused on who Hazel and Cha-Cha are? Hasn’t she heard their names a ton of times especially since they’re some of the best assassins?

☂ How did Five know which tubes to put the messages in? 

☂ You can see at this part how Five immediately gets anxious and antsy. He has a wild look in his eyes. From this point onwards he’s constantly moving, shaking with energy, anticipation, and probably a little bit of anger

☂ “You’re a great disappointment to me.” That’s definitely not the first time he’s heard that

☂ “I don’t belong anywhere thanks to you. You made me a killer!” The first part of that stings. Obviously he feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere, but again I think has to do with the whole “good” and “bad” thing that’s going on. He feels like he doesn’t belong at home because he’s “bad” and has done a lot of dark stuff to get home (it doesn’t help that Luther voiced his acknowledgment of this  to Five and now he has that in his mind that Luther knows and somewhat views him as “bad”). Five 100% feels shame in what he has done, and definitely has an issue of coming back to his family with blood on his hands form what he has done. He doesn’t belong in The Commission anymore because he doesn’t want to stay there to do their dirty work to kill or give out kill orders. He’s done with that or at least wants to be done with that life.

The last statement though is Five taking his anger and guilt about being becoming an assassin out on The Handler. She brought him into The Commission, which in turn he became the best assassin across The Space-Time Continuum. It’s not something he’s proud of, and he never enjoyed killing (as much as I want it to be the DNA alteration I just don’t think it exists in the show or at least not yet). However The Handler replies with “You were always a killer. I just pointed you in a direction.” which you can immediately tell has struck a chord with Five. For the briefest second he looks taken aback and his eyes ever so slightly open wider in shock, whether he took that as the truth or just a terrible accusation isn’t exactly clear. Either way he doesn’t like being accused or hearing the truth out loud of always being able to be murderous, a killer. 

I believe it’s a mixture of The Handler just trying to get into his head and a combination of the truth. Reginald trained The Umbrella Academy to use brute force, but that doesn’t mean Five had killed anyone but he was definitely violent when it came to stopping bad guys (not to mention in the pilot script he was called a “Ruthless little war machine” after violently attacking and decapitating a bunch of mannequins)

☂ Diego: I’m going to go kill Hazel and Cha-Cha!........Riiiiight after I get done walking with my mom in the park

☂ He’s so happy to see Klaus again 

☂ ✨Gremlin✨

☂ Who exactly does Five owe a debt to? Maybe his family after accidentally leaving them and now he wants to save them? Or is it a singular person?  

☂ Ouch! Now that’s what I call a problem later!

☂ 

☂ Five using “Ya’ll” is weird to hear

☂ Five is talking to his siblings like he knows what’s been happening but in reality he’s rarely been at home so how would he know

☂ I love that Five doesn't even answer Diego at the end and instead just stares at his siblings 

☂☂☂☂☂☂☂

Feel free to comment or reblog with things you have noticed too!

[darker-soft-starker]

Starker High School AU Pt. 7 (1...6)

tw: general Howard Stark warning

----

So, here’s the thing.

Peter meant to ask May about the letter the night he got it back from Tony, He really did. But then everyone was in such a good mood, he couldn’t bring himself to shatter that to satisfy his own curiosity.

So then he meant to ask the next day.

And he tries, he really does.

But the letter feels as heavy as an anvil in his desk drawer and Peter is too nervous to ask about it. Something always comes up or he gets too scared to shatter the image of the good, obedient nephew he is, one who doesn’t go rifling through mail not addressed to him, prying into personal business.

So he flusters and stumbles pretty badly for the first couple attempts. He changes topic quickly, pretending like he was going to ask about something else, asking himself where exactly his business ends and where his curiosity begins.

Once during a gymnastics comp he stopped mid routine to check on a rival who had fallen from the rings and injured themselves. His coach asked when he was going to stop being a goddamn martyr.

He shakes the Magic 8-Ball on Monday morning and asks the universe if it’s an appropriate time to approach May.

Reply hazy, try again.

Well, that’s not what his flagging courage had hoped for. He shakes it again.

Ask again later.

One more time, harder.

Better not tell you now.

“What the hell,” he whispers, placing it haphazardly upon where he took it. “That’s bullshit.”

“What’s with the potty mouth,” May asks suddenly from behind him. He turns as she’s affixing some dangling earrings to her ears. “What’s wrong, kiddo?”

“Nothing,” he sighs. “Just - do you have a minute?”

She checks her watch. “I have about forty seconds. Is something wrong - are you okay?”

“No - I mean yes, I’m okay. Are...are you?”

“Top of the world, bubby,” she scoops her keys from the bowl, approaching him with a curious expression. “Why do you ask?”

There’s no easy way to ask without blatantly admitting to going through her things, and the last thing he wants her to think is that she can’t trust him.

“I just mean. If you weren’t. If there was something wrong, you would tell me, right?”

“Of course,” her face falls. “You’re acting strange, Pete.”

“I just worry, that’s all.”

You’re all I have left, is what loops over and over in his mind, but doesn’t say. She seems to hear it anyway, rushing forward and kissing his forehead, her perfume filling his nose.

“Everything is fine, bubs. The second it isn’t, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Okay.”

“I gotta go, but stop worrying okay? That’s my job. You have a good day.”

She hurries to scoop up her handbag and closes the door before he’s broken out of his thoughts long enough to reply. He sighs and shakes the stupid ball again before he leaves as well.

Cannot predict now.

Of course.

Just for once he’d like fate to be firmly on his side.

---

Something smells weird.

It’s sharp, chemical and not entirely unpleasant. Noticeable, however, sharp enough to cut through the usual musty smell of the library. It’s like apple cider, but overpowers the usual library smell of old books and dust and pencil shavings, a scent Peter has long associated with study, solitude, and the easing of his anxious heart from a gallop to a steady stride.

It’s not a bad smell, just misplaced.

And Tony’s been acting strange all study period. Like, weirder than normal - and his resting state of normal is already ineffably frenetic and bewildering, so this was an entirely different carton of eggs.

Peter doesn’t exactly want to bring it up, they’re kind of on a tenuously peaceful truce, a silent lay down of arms, so to speak.

Well, as peaceful as a truce can be while they call each other all sorts of names and rib each other over literally any sign of weakness, but still. They have some sort of an understanding now, and it’s all relatively innocent, good natured banter.

Mostly.

Peter for sure could have done without being called fuck-face-mcgee upon entering the library, but he’s willing to let it pass. He was late, after all.

“Anyway,” Peter says, sitting across the table from Tony, “so I think if we removed the monthly gym membership, we’d have an extra sixty per month that could go towards other stuff.”

“Like what?” Tony’s face pinches.

“I don’t know, like a college fund?”

“Ridiculous idea. I need that membership,” Tony rebukes, shrugging his leather jacket off, hooking it over the back of the chair. “When else am I supposed to get a reprieve from you and the cabbage patch?”

“When do I get a reprieve? I’m the money-maker. When do I get my break from work and childcare?”

“At work. What are you, like an art teacher or something? Your whole day is like a rich, white woman's vacation. Parents don’t get a lunch break.”

“Right. I’m sure watching Dora and burping an infant is as hard as teaching a class of thirty.”

“Wow. So dismissive. I mean, if you were a good spouse, you would give your withered and weary husband a break from screaming babies and shitty diapers.”

“Mhmm. That would mean I’d have to do something nice for you, and that doesn’t sound like me.”

Tony shakes his head. “We’re getting a divorce as soon as Molly is old enough to pick me as the superior parent,” he points to Peter’s papers. “Put that in the notes.”

Peter closes his eyes and sighs, willing himself not to lean over the table and smack the other boy.

“You are not the superior parent. You’re the deadbeat that forgets to pick her up from school and day drinks.”

“And yet, she loves me the most. You’re just the breadwinner who comes home grumpy every evening. I’m the cool dad.”

“Fine, keep your druglord baby. I never wanted kids anyway.”

“Fine. I’m keeping the car.”

“I’m keeping the apartment.”

“Good.”

“Great.”

They snicker quietly in a rare moment of camaraderie before a lightbulb goes off in Peter's head.

“What if we used the membership, but cut costs elsewhere, like, cutting our own hair and stuff. We could save for a yearly holiday, go to the beach or something.”

“Florida! Disney, roadtrip, yes,” Tony clicks his fingers towards Peter, smiling wide. “Look at you getting all savvy. Call the judge, the marriage is back on.”

“You can’t go to Disney for a few hundred dollars, dumbass, that’s barely the price of admission,” Peter scribbles on his pad, making note of their ideas. “You ever been?”

“Nope.”

“Really?”

“Not even once.”

“That’s surprising. Isn’t that where all rich white people take their baby sociopaths to beat up their first mascot?”

“One, I was never a baby, I emerged fully grown, and two, could you imagine Howard Stark within a mile of the happiest place on earth? He’d have a fucking stroke,” his face changes like he’s had an epiphany. “Not a bad idea, actually.”

Peter doesn’t mention that he doesn’t personally know Howard Stark but is willing to take Tony’s assessment at face value. That being said, he can’t imagine Tony, now, voluntarily heading to Disney without coercion or the promise of copious quantities of alcohol. He’d probably smoke and cuss and scare away small children.

He mind lingers on that particular characterisation, and for a moment tries to picture what Tony looked like as a kid, if he was a chubby, toothless little brat, can’t help then imagining him with Mickey Mouse ears, gleefully running through his gigantic home, harried caretakers running after him.

He must have been the worst.

“I’ve never been further than Washington,” Peter offers, “but that was for AcDec, so it wasn’t like we got to see much.”

“You did Academic Decathlon?”

“Yep.”

“Ew, why would you do that to yourself.”

“I still do it. It looks good on college applications and it’s fun,” he shrugs. “I like it. I’m good at it.”

Tony’s hands cover his mouth, but it doesn’t stifle the rising apple of his cheeks or the mirth in his voice.

“I’m feeling so much second-hand embarrassment for you right now.”

“Shut up,” Peter huffs, kicking him under the table, satisfied when the other boy winces. He fails to smother his own wince when he gets a kick in return, right in the kneecap. “Nothing wrong with being an intellectual.”

“You’re a fucking nerd, four-eyes.”

“What about you?” Peter rolls his eyes, keen to change the subject. “Been outside New York?”

Tony shrugs, tapping his pen on the pad, looking anywhere but at him. “When I was younger I’d sometimes go on my dad's business trips to Europe or Japan or whatever. And we have a house in Malibu.”

“That sounds awesome.”

Tony snorts. He shuffles on his seat, sliding their notes over and making further amendments in quick strokes, the cheap pen spurting bright red ink over the paper like arterial spray.

“Oh yeah, it was a real blast.”

Spoiled brat.

“Are you going anywhere for Thanksgiving?”

“With my family?” Tony looks up. “No, I’d rather stick my head up a turkey’s ass. You?”

Without warning, Peter’s hand flies to cover his mouth, unable to  but snort at the imagery, He’s not sure if Tony just doesn’t get along with his family or if he’s still stuck in that churlish, ‘too cool to be around my parents’ stage of adolescence. It’s one the idiosyncrasies that would have annoyed Peter before, his ungratefulness of having a family that’s still alive would be just another thing for Peter to hate him for.

Now, he thinks, he’s beginning to parse out when Tony’s being sincere and when he’s  hyperbolic, finally recognising the latter as a mechanism to throw someone off a topic that makes Tony uncomfortable. He sees it - the warning lights and stop signs in barbed coding, wrapped up in dry wit and sarcasm.

Peter is like that sometimes, too.

And what the hell would Peter know about having a normal family.

“Yeah, actually, for once,” he says softly. “My aunt - not May - and uncle have a holiday home up north, so we’re staying with them over the long weekend.”

“S’cool. May’s family?”

Peter shakes his head. “Sort of - they’re not actually related, but May and Margaret have been best friends since college, so.”

“Is Margaret a babe, too?”

Peter throw a chewed-up pencil at him that he catches easily.

“Don’t be gross.”

“I’m not,” he throws the pencil back, overshooting and hitting the shelves behind them. “What are we talking, on a scale of haggard to hottie.”

“I don’t know, man. You seem to have questionable taste in the people you are attracted to.”

Tony grins crookedly, eyes shining with something Peter can’t decipher. “Ain't that the truth.”

“What’s the supposed to --” he stops himself, suddenly recognising what the strange scent was that he’d been picking up. “Wait - dude, are you wearing cologne?”

Tony’s mouth opens and closes a few times before he responds. “No,” he denies, just as the bell rings. “Oh, look at that, time to get to class.”

Saved by the bell.

“So, this is it,” Tony nods, shutting the lid of his laptop as the bell signals the end of their free period. “We’re done. The assignment. That’s the last of it, right?”

Dazedly, he watches Tony stuffing his laptop and notes into his backpack, brow creasing as his mind catches up.

“Uh, yeah. I guess.”

“Send me your notes tonight, I’ll stitch them together with mine and send them back.”

“Okay,” he sluggishly collects his own notes, picking up the bag by his feet. “That’s - that’s good.”

“Well, Parker,” Tony slings his backpack on his shoulder, shuffling backwards, “we didn’t kill each other. I mean, not for a lack of wanting on my behalf.”

‘’Yeah, from Wednesday we’re free. We can go back to normal.”

“Yeah,” Tony’s grin fades. They stare at each other for a long moment that could have been seconds or hours, he doesn’t know, until the second bell rings.

“Hey, um --”

“I’ll send you the notes later,” Tony interrupts, sotto voce. “I gotta get to class. See you around.”

Something in his stomach deflates, sadly and slowly, like a balloon with a pinprick, emptying itself until it’s an uncomfortably hard to digest crumpled mass at the base of his stomach. He pastes on a smile and looks out the window, hoping the feeling doesn’t show in his eyes.

That’s when he notices the leather jacket Tony has left behind, still slung over the back of the chair.

“You left your…” he trails off, turning back, but Tony is already long gone, probably already halfway to his next class. Like a bat out of hell, Peter thinks wryly, picking up the jacket, the leather smooth like butter under his touch, still warm around the collar where Tony’s had been leaning against it.

No good leaving it here to get stolen or be tossed into lost property. He decides to take it with him, folding it gently over his arm. He’ll give it back when he sees him again, maybe after school.

“Nice jacket, Parker,” Flash says approvingly when Peter bumps into him out in the hall.

At first he thinks he’s referring to Peter’s ratty hoodie, and it confounds him for a moment because it’s decidedly not nice, but then he realizes he’s referring to the leather in his arms.

“It’s not mine,” he replies a little too late, because Flash is already down the hall, out of earshot.

Peter sighs. It’s beginning to become a depressing theme.

---

The weird feeling in his chest doesn’t subside all afternoon, and into the evening Peter is starting to think maybe he just has indigestion, like acid reflux or something. Must be the chilli surprise from lunch. Maybe he’d missed his meds.

He sends his portion of the final notes to Tony’s email, turns off his computer and switches on Colbert.

---

It’s not until hours later, well after midnight and the infomercials are playing, only then does his phone buzz against his thigh with a response.

Figures that Tony would be a night owl like him.

> soz was distracted > youtube spiral

Peter shifts downwards on the bed, holding the phone over his face. < s’ok  < what were you watching  > say yes to the dress  < lmao really > lol no > anyway, looks good. ur notes > will print off for u to sign tomorrow < is that a compliment or an admission u were wrong about me 

> neither. One subject does not a genius make  > unlike me, an actual genius

In your dreams, dipshit, he wants to type, but doesn’t, not really keen to provoke a muddy discussion on who is the smartest (it’s definitely Peter).

< u left ur jacket in the library btw, I have it, he texts instead, his pulse jumping when Tony replies with crying emoji’s.

Tony sends him a snap, unexpectedly, a sad face that makes Peter snort. His face seems distressed, the caption reads, thought i lost it for good.

Shifting down further on the bed, he’s feeling suddenly and inexplicably courageous, fire burning up from his belly button to his fingers.

Peter takes a silly photo of himself and sends it back. > didn’t want it to get stolen < aw u care

“I do not,” he whispers to himself.  > i do not. come collect it after school tomorrow or im throwing it out. < u wouldn’t do that to me > there’s a lot of things i would do 2 u  > ....  > um  > lol 

 Peter’s face flames at the implication. He reads over what he just so carelessly typed, stomach positively knotted with embarrassment. Oh god, that is not what he meant. His fingers fly over the screen at record speed as he types out a response. < NOT LIKE THAT < I MEANT IT IN A THREATENING WAY < I’M LITERALLY GAGGING > yikes > ur dirty talk needs work < no it DOESN’T bc we’re not sexting > sure jan > damn. didn’t kno u had it in u bubs < i don’t have it in me > not yet > ;)

Despite the deep blush still heating his face and his heart galloping in his chest, a laugh breaks out of him. The phone in his hand vibrates again. > jk jk, not ever > need to bleach my brain now 

Slowly gliding back to earth he types out a response. < ikr me too < ugh.

He puts his phone down on the bed, looking up at the water-stained ceiling, amusement slowly fading. His pulse though, that doesn’t return to normal.

How could it when his mind suddenly runs away from him, evoking short-lived, but nonetheless strikingly vivid images of intertwined legs, planes of pale skin, and lush lips. How can the heat in his stomach escape when his thoughts conjure phantom sensations of a soft mouth sucking on his neck, the punishing grip of hands on his hips and the warmth and weight of another body on top of his own.

A forehead leaning against his, brown eyes that knocked his pulse off kilter.

The taste of nicotine.

Stop it.

That is dangerous territory right there. And a line he doesn’t want to cross.

Shaking his head, Peter swings his legs over the side of the bed and sits up, looking anywhere for a distraction; his window, the posters on his wall, his figurines on his shelves, anything to douse the low-burning fire in his gut.

Standing, he heads to the bathroom to get ready for bed, banging their crappy old heater with his fist to get it working again.

He takes a very cold shower.

----

It’s not that Peter doesn’t enjoy sex.

Not that he’s had it.

But he enjoys jerking off, at least. Like a regular amount, whatever that is for a teenage boy. He likes kissing. Likes thinking about one day being in a real relationship and exploring someone's body and he likes exploring what turns him on and what he doesn’t.

It’s just that he doesn’t let himself think of anyone he knows personally that way, no matter how conventionally attractive they are - not Thor, and especially not him.

Typically, his fantasies are people with vague features, sometimes with bodies like those he has seen in porn, all shapes and sizes. And that’s safe for him.

He doesn’t want to have to look anyone he knows in the eye and wonder what their lips would feel like pressed against his own. If they’re any good at kissing. If they’re the type to take control or cede it.

He does wonder, sometimes though. No matter how much he denies what or who he wants.

Because it doesn’t matter if it’s a person or a thing. Want is never superficial in his experience, it doesn’t feel good most of the time. It’s deep and sometimes dark, it sinks itself into him with its hooks and it tugs, and keeps tugging. It yields to craving and yearning.

Back in his bedroom, his eyes land on his wall-mounted mirror. It’s small. Like the Mona Lisa. Small enough that he doesn’t have to see his whole reflection if he doesn’t want to.

He doesn’t want to crave and yearn for anybody, because he knows it will always be one sided. He’s well aware that he isn’t exactly centrefold material.

Who is gonna look at his weird ears or thin lips, and think, shit, that’s the guy of my dreams. Not with his big glasses or the way his hair twists itself into frizzy, unruly curls once the gel wears off and he starts looking like an unkempt labradoodle.

Who would want to wake up next to him? No one.

So it’s better not to risk imagining anyone real. It’s only in his head that anyone could ever want him back.

His eyes go from the mirror to the jacket folded and placed on his desk. It was intended to be plain sight so he remembers to bring it in - out of sight, out of mind, is what Ben would say. He can still smell the cologne Tony denied wearing earlier.

Once he’s in bed, he turns to face the wall.

Out of sight, out of mind.

---

Maybe Tony subscribes to that mantra as well.

Peter forgets to bring the jacket in all week and Tony doesn’t ask.

---

Danvers wants him fit and ready to be harpooned into the mud by next week; that’s why she looks the other way when Thor and Peter take their informal training in the boundaries of the field, stretching out on the grass as the JV team runs their usual morning drills - drills Peter would have been a part of before his stupid injury and his stupid wrist-brace.

This school is stupid too. Now he has to pay to see a doctor so he can get medically cleared for a sport he doesn’t really care that much about.

Like he didn’t have enough medical bills to deal with.

In any case, he’s not really in a position to complain, because he has the opportunity now to run through his warm-up with Thor, who is taking his direction to spread his legs into a butterfly position so beautifully, even as his knees raise from the ground to make a v-shape, whereas Peter’s lie flat on the grass.

If the last few days had been different, he might have blushed and used the situation at hand as an opening to place his hands on Thor’s knees and applied pressure. But now he just smiles encouragingly and reminds himself that he has no chance - no place - and his hands do not belong anywhere but his own body.

And surprisingly enough, he’s okay about it all.

Thor was a good guy. Peter will never say no to having more friends.

It’s a dreadful, bitter morning. Icy cold, wind biting into his shirt, the grass below them is damp. He has to keep rubbing his hands together so he can restore feeling in his fingers.

To make things worse, Tony is back on the bleachers. White v-neck, jeans and dark sunglasses. Sprawled out over a set of steps, legs askew, arms behind his head, unmoving as if he were napping or sunbathing, appearing like a cocky main out of an eighties movie.

Or a king surveying his kingdom.

Rhodes and Potts slouch on either side of him, swapping phones over his idle figure, taking pictures and laughing amongst themselves.

“It burns,” Thor says lightly, hands on his thighs in an attempt to aim his knees to touch the ground.

“Yeah,” Peter agrees, despite the ease in which he can lean in. “It just takes practice, dude. Twenty minutes a day, warm up and don’t over-do it. You’ll be limber in no time.”

“You can do this better than I can,” Thor argues, accent thick as he tries to lie flat like Peter.

“And you can lift a hundred pounds better than I can,” he tries to rebut, even as they switch positions, hip flexors aching with old injuries.

While the stretches are like second nature, he doesn’t miss the pressure of training for competition. The eagerness to get into a flat butterfly or oversplit. There was no argument that he spent nights on crunches back then, and he was somewhat toned - but he was shit at weight training. He hated lifting. Reps were more boring, more tedious and difficult and the diet required to give them any value was frankly not worth giving up a great hotdog or a loaded sub from Delmars. He wouldn’t go back to it now.

None of that old heat is there when he inspects Thor’s form. That quick simmer, the call to be closer. That terrible thing, want. All but gone. awe is still there, as he suspects it always would be with someone as outstanding as Thor, but the butterflies have very much flown away.

As he suspected would be the case. He has someone and they’re happy. With the cat out of the bag Thor had shown Peter pictures of his boyfriend all morning. He’d gotten a puppy, apparently, which just tickled Thor. He was so happy it was almost sickening.

When is it gonna be him that sickens someone with photo’s of his partner?

“Hey, Parker,” Tony yells from the stands, “you suck!”

Looking over, the idiot is raised on his elbows and grinning, like he’s proud of himself for a spectacularly unoriginal insult.

Rolling his eyes, Peter gives him the finger and he gets one in return.

His stomach twists and he has to duck his head to conceal his smile.

“Your husband is somewhat rude,” Thor says, following Peter’s example and switching from a pike to a lunge.

Peter looks back over to the stands. A cigarette now dangles between Tony’s full lips, sunglasses slid to the tip of his nose.

That’s how Peter knows he’s looking at him too.

Even from afar his eyes are round and mirthful, framed with ridiculously long lashes like a cartoon mouse, far too outlandish for any real person to have.

“He’s the absolute worst,” Peter bites his bottom lip, quickly averting his gaze. “It was an arranged marriage, to be fair.”

---

Wednesday comes and goes.

Their assignment gets handed in, Peter signs it off to say he did his fair portion of the work and Miss Ahn beams at the both of them when she is handed the thick binder, looking all too pleased with herself.

They have a presentation of their work next week, after Thanksgiving, each pair expected to give five minutes of their life pretending that they’re passionate about schoolwork in front of their fellow students who don’t care.

After that they are completely unburdened. No study sessions, no car rides, and no fries dipped in milkshakes.

They’re embarrassingly hailed as a prime example of people working through their differences, as if they had come together and were now friends or something.

From the front row Tony sneaks a furtive glance at Peter when she applauds them to the class.

“See, kids,” she says, “it wasn’t so bad working together, was it?”

Their eyes meet briefly.

“Zero out of ten, would not do again,” Tony declares, brash and loud, kicking his combat boots onto his desk in a leisurely display.. “That guy is the human equivalent of watching paint dry. Awful.”

“Oh, come on,” she chides. “Be nice.”

Not one to be outdone, Peter lets his horse out of the gate too.

“Singular worst experience of my life. I once had a root canal without anaesthetic and it was less painful than working with him.”

“Alright, boys, that’s enough out of you,” Miss Ahn sighs deeply, walking to the front of the room. “Mr Lang, how did you find the assignment?”

“Very informative…”

From the front row Tony turns in his seat and winks at him.

----

“Thanksgiving plans?” Natasha asks, leaning beside his locker, smothering a smile as he struggles to get his locker open for the nth time that day with one functional hand.

“Visiting my Aunt and Uncle,” he says, finally prying the damn thing open. “They’ve got a place up at Otisco Lake, so. Probably watching old movies and swimming all weekend.”

“Oof,” his friend winces. “That’s a trip. Think the May-Mobile will make the distance?”

The May-Mobile of course to the ancient, ‘89 Volvo 240 that May has been driving ever since Peter was born. She adores it and refuses to trade in, despite the fact that it rarely gets driven, practically haemorrhages gas, and has cost more in repairs in the last five years than the actual value of the car. But May really loves it. It's sentimental. She says it was the car Ben and her picked out together.

“It better make it,” he dumps his books in, closing the locker. “I don’t want to spend the weekend waiting for AAA in the middle of nowhere. What’s your plans?”

She shrugs, walking with him down the hall.

“Probably go and annoy Yelena. Was supposed to spend it with Bucky and his mom, but that ain't happening.”

He bumps her shoulder sympathetically. “Do you think you two will get back together?”

“Probably. But he’s got a shitload of grovelling to do first.”

“Don’t maim him, please. We need him on the team.”

“No promises.”

“Speak of the devil,” Peter adjusts his glasses, spotting Bucky at the base of the stairs talking to somebody. He gets startled, heart jumping when Natasha grabs him by the waist, pushing him towards the wall and inching them closer to the stairs.

“What are you --”

“ -- Shh, I want to listen. Who is he talking to?”

Craning his head, he finds himself in for another surprise when he sees that the other person he’s talking to is --

“He’s… he’s talking to Stark - what...?”

She shushes him again and Peter listens, curious now too.

“... what do you want, Barnes?” Tony visibly grimaces, taking a cigarette from his pocket and tucking it behind his ear. “Make it quick. I got places to be and your noxious stench gives me headaches.”

An announcement goes off over the loudspeaker over their head, calling for Brendon Bennett, a dick of a senior, to move his car from where he has blocked a teacher from leaving. It would be funny at any other time, but as it goes, he misses a chunk of their conversation.

“...Rogers isn’t the boss of me.”

“Yes, he is, and I’m not getting suspended again because you’re a pussy and he has roid-rage.”

“I just need an ETA. C’mon, pal, I really need this.”

“I’m not your pal and I don’t give a flying fuck what you need.”

Ever the easy going guy, Bucky puts his hands up placatingly as a group of students file down the stairs, causing enough noise that Peter misses whatever is said next. As he strains to hear he tries to draw the line between the dots, but comes up short on exactly how these two are connected.

“That fucker,” Natasha mutters near his ear.

By the time the students clear, Tony’s descended the stairs and begun to walk away

“I have better things to do than to sit around and wait for you,” Bucky calls out, giving him the finger.”

“And yet you will.”

Not in any possible lifetime was Peter going to address that he was weirdly relieved that Tony didn’t flip him off in return, some part of him petulantly thinking that’s our thing, but that’s wrong - Peter and Tony are not friends and they do not have things, even when they do, it’s not like a thing thing.

Nat grips his hand and pulls him along when Bucky leaves as well, swiftly walking away to avoid being caught. His backpack jostles at the speed and he realizes he’s still clutching Tony's jacket from where he had retrieved it from his locker.

“What was that about?” He asks, struggling to keep up with his friend's furious pace as he’s led down the hall. “Tash?”

She drops his hand once they are outside, her disapproval near palpable, voice laden with fire and fury.

“That’s Bucky being a world class idiot, he’s gonna get himself expelled, I swear.”

Peter stops on the spot.

“Expelled?”

Something dark curls unpleasantly in his gut, heavy and not leaving.

“They have a thing,” she explains hotly, mouth turning down. “Bucky and Stark.”

“What?” Peter breathes, uncomfortably thinking back to the party and the way Bucky overtly complimented Tony’s body. “Like a.... like a sex thing? Did he cheat on you?”

“What? No.”

“Then what?”

Red strands whipping in the wind, his friend looks around to see if there is anyone nearby before leaning in to speak low. He leans in too, unabashedly curious.

“Do you remember when Bucky was having issues with his parents when school started?”

He nods, thinking back to the times Bucky slept over in the late days of summer and early weeks of the school year, once or twice a week to get away from the shouting in his own home.

Natasha continues.

“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he got really depressed and fell behind with his work and everything he was handing in was terrible. Danvers pulled him up and said if he didn’t get his grades up, he’d be risking his spot on the team. So Bucky paid Stark to write up a few assignments for him, apparently he was doing it for a few kids, like it was a thing.”

...Okay.

That was not good, and definitely disappointing, but -

“Rogers found out. He gave Bucky a warning, but with Stark he threatened to go to Fury.”

Peter thinks back to the fight between their captain and Stark and their fight not long ago. “That’s why they…”

“I’m told Stark snapped, but I don’t know. I found out about the whole paper thing after that and me and Buck fought about it. I just got so mad - he’s - he’s not stupid, you know?”

“I know.”

She exhales heavily through her nose. “He’s going to get himself kicked out of school and I’m so -- I could kill him. We’re supposed to graduate together and get away from our families and go to college, and then he does this.”

“I’m sorry, Tash, I didn’t know,” he hugs her, her body going stiff before relaxing in his hold. “That’s shitty. For both of you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were in on the loop.”

He smiles, self-deprecating.

“Nope, I’m as clueless as ever.”

“No, you’re just too good for that,” she shakes her head. “Look, I gotta go and blow off some steam. Please don’t tell anybody about all this.”

“I won't, I swear - but text me later, alright? Let me know you’re okay.”

She ruffles his hair before stepping back.

“You’re a bleeding heart, PP. Keep an eye on that, will you?”

Hearing a squeal of tyres, he whips his head around to the parking lot, the source of the noise. The Firebird squeals out of the lot and onto the road, the sound as angry, the glimpse Peter gets of Tony’s face, even angrier.

He turns back to Nat, but she’s already walked away. Which means she isn’t there to hear him mutter to himself.

“What are you getting into, Tony?”

----

His thumbs hover over his phone that night, as he writes i saw u with barnes today.

He quickly deletes that, not wanting Tony to think that he was following him or spying on him - or worse, thinking that Peter actually cares about what he does. He doesn’t. They’re not friends.

A dread settles in the spaces between his ribs, like thread trying to squeeze them together too tight, his lungs feeling compressed. Maybe it’s his asthma, or allergies.

It’s not and he knows it. He’s disappointed.

He rubs at his chest on his way home thinking about the scene they just saw and about what Natasha said. How is it that so many people in his orbit had this entire entanglement going on without Peter having any whiff of it? It really makes him wonder if they were they good at hiding it or was he just really fucking stupid. Stupid enough to think Bucky was doing okay, that Rogers wasn’t as sanctimonious as he appeared to be, and that Tony was --

Nevermind.

It’s none of his business and it’s not his place.

He knows better than to ask. It’s not as if he can forget all his own secrets that he clutches tightly to his chest, so tight it feels like he constantly walks through life with his fists clenched.

That and, like May, the real truth is that he can’t claim any entitlement to their trust. He eavesdropped in more ways than one these last two weeks. He tries to brush off that dry, sobering thought; it’s none of his business anyway and he has enough on his plate without getting involved.

When are you going to stop being such a goddamned martyr.

So then he thinks about the sheer fury on Tony’s face, how his - how he used to look at Peter the same way, and how Peter used to think that angry and bitter was Tony's default mood. That was that. The status quo.

Well, that wasn’t entirely fair, was it. It was easier to dislike Tony when he was distant enough that Peter could pigeon-hole him into a stereotype.

Because Tony got into fights, sure, countless and petty, but he was the guy who pet puppies and snuck them food under the table. Not the guy who kicked them.

He looked like the puppy that was kicked, though.

Not angry.

Wounded.

And that’s what confuses Peter. Turns out he doesn’t really know anything about his friends.

Or Tony, it would seem.

----

May closes the drivers-side door and throws a packet of snacks into Peter’s face.

“Pretzels.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he adjusts his glasses where they'd been knocked askew.

“Sorry, I thought your reflexes were better,” she says, and by way of apology, lobs a packet of sour gummies more gracefully on his lap. “Your favorite.”

“Apology accepted.”

From a plastic bag she fishes out two cokes and places them in the centre console, a bag of red licorice and crackers follow, also making their way onto his lap. She always buys too much food.

Then they’re turning back onto the highway that leads them out of where they paused at Monticello, the radio jacked up loud enough to be heard over the tiny droplets of raindrops sporadically hitting the windshield.

They’ve left early enough that it’s still dark.

Fog still hangs low on the roadside, intangible pale wisps that seem to disintegrate upon crossing, the road dotted with other travellers, but not too crowded, enough so they can easily cruise the speed limit and sometimes over. The Bangles play on a cassette tape and, tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, May looks so carefree, driving her sentimental car with the noisy engine, singing along to the same cassettes she’s had since she was his age.

Peter can’t bring himself to say what he wants to. About the letters. One in particular. He knows something isn't right but who is he to break the peace?

So, he doesn’t and they keep driving.

The fog lifts and the tunes continue, both of them singing familiar tunes from ABBA to George Michael and Peter let’s go of what he can’t control and loses himself in the buoyancy of nostalgia - neither of them can carry a tune for shit and it’s funny, and when he rolls his window down he sticks his hand out to feel the frigid air, it’s the most free he’s felt in a long time.

Football and his after-school duties and everything else just drifts away with the wind, at least for this moment.

It was like when he was a kid. The route itself is mostly dark and dull, and this time without Ben, but their usual car games of ‘dollar every time you spot a windmill’ and ‘how many minutes until the next town’ are fun and easily pass the time. This will be another memory that he will gloss over with fondness, how even the boring roads will seem like rapture.

When the sky starts to turn from black to grey they stop for early breakfast at a diner just slightly off their trail in Windsor, both of them famished despite the hoard of snacks and in dire need of coffee.

The car is beginning to emit pale plumes of smoke from under the hood as they arrive at Davis Grove, Otisco Lake in the early morning. The sun rises low over the horizon, a slow ascent that turns the sky grey and brushes wriggling streaks of color over the lake.

The house is exactly as Peter remembers it.

Panels painted slate blue, brown-tiled roof. Two-storeys with a wrap-around porch and a private dock only a short distance away from the entrance. A swinging chair on the lawn that comfortably fits three and a half people.

It looks exactly as it did when Peter first came here as a kid, plucked straight out of his memories in perfect form, like it was set in a liminal space that time refused to touch. A piece comes back to his being at this moment, something that he didn’t know was missing.

Aunt Margaret is already standing at the door when the pull up. She doesn’t look a day older than when Peter last saw her years ago.

“Oh, look at you,” she coos, wrapping Peter up in a tight hug, curls brushing his cheek, “my darling little Petey-pie.”

“Hey, Aunt Margaret,” he returns the hug.

“You’re so tall now, let me look at you,” she holds him at arm's length, warm eyes roving over his form. “Oh my goodness, haven’t you grown a handsome young man? Last time we met you only came up to my shoulders and had braces.” She turns her attention to May. “Isn’t he handsome?”

His aunt nods, smiling at them, both women gravitating into a tight embrace. “It’s good to see you, Peggy. Thanks for having us.”

“Our pleasure. You look even more beautiful than the last time.”

“Oh, stop,” May releases her, wiping at her eyes. “Look who’s talking.”

She tilts her head to the porch and takes May’s duffle from where she has dropped it to the ground. “Come on you two, inside. We’ve got the fire going and scrambled eggs on the table.”

Inside it smells like the best parts of his childhood. A burning fire and butterscotch and lingering musky-but-floral scent from the bowl of potpourri high on the mantel. Even the sounds are the same, the same coo of early birds in the burgeoning daylight, someone humming by the stove.

Margaret leads them into the living room, where her husband meets them halfway from the kitchen, oven mitts still on his hands when he spreads his arms wide to welcome them.

“My goodness,” he beams, “look what the cat dragged in.”

He wears a cravat at the same time he wears an apron, looking every bit the formal yet whimsical man Peter remembers him to be and a crushing wave of nostalgia comes over him so suddenly he can’t help but rush forward and embrace him.

“Welcome, Peter. It’s so good to have you here.”

“Thanks for having us, Uncle Ed.”

“What have you taught him,” he points his query to May as he releases Peter to hug her. “You know you can call me Jarvis.”

---

Margaret ‘Peggy’ Carter and Edwin Jarvis had been young twenty-somethings when they first met. Both were born in England before moving to the US, but it wasn’t until they met at Margaret’s first college that their paths crossed. They worked in different departments, Peter thinks Ed was an engineer or something and Margaret an analyst, but the universe pulled them together eventually.

Margaret asked Ed out first and then a year later, May was the maid-of-honor at their wedding and Ben was reportedly a teary guest in the squeaky church pews.

And the rest, as they say, was history.

A photo of that day sits framed upon the mantle. May and Margaret have their arms around each other, Uncle Ben and Ed standing awkwardly at the sides of the frame, holding up flutes of champagne.

They look so young. Happy.

Peter observes the photo, smiling. He would have been a baby back then. Before his parents and Ben had -- well.

His mind does these weird calculations sometimes. Like, the May in this photo is only nine or so years older than how old he is now, and this moment, suspended in time, makes them closer than they have ever been, even though in real life they are over twenty years apart.

Looking at this picture, it makes him wonder how many people he knows now will live full lives and die of old age. How many people his age will stay forever young, and who will be in the future looking back at their time now, wistfully staring at pictures of those who only exist suspended in that time.

It’s funny, being a teenager. His peers are too young to die so they assume they won't. Even in their twenties and thirties or forties, death seems like an elusive thing that doesn’t apply to anybody until it does. It’s for the decrepit, the sick.

But in Peter’s case death comes like poorly aimed darts, always landing badly and scoring low. In his pockets, his hands turn in fists. He hopes the three people left alive in this picture get to grow old.

He smells her perfume before he sees her. Margaret approaches, bumping their hips together.

“This was a nice day,” she says softly, wistful. “I wish we’d kept more contact over these last few years.”

“Me too,” he smiles sadly, her expression reflecting his. With a hand on his back she leads him to the couch.

“Come on, munchkin, come sit. Tell me how you have been.”

---

“We weren’t planning on the big dinner,” Uncle Ed says as he finishes peeling a potato, handing it to Peter once he’s done. “But we’re so glad you two joined us. Neither of us have a lot of family here, you know.”

“Us neither,” Peter runs the peeled potato under running water to rid it of dirty residue before chopping it into quarters. “It’s really nice to see you again, it’s been way too long.”

“You really have grown into such a nice young man,” the man smiles. “Ben would be proud. Your parent’s, too.”

“Thank you.”

They haven’t got together like this since Ben died a couple years back. It wasn’t really anyone’s fault. Shit happened and it got harder to try. May got busier with looking after Peter full time and working more - and Uncle Ed quit his job and opened up a garage and Margaret lost a baby - all at the same time.

It was a lot for everyone. Even college best friends moved apart when fate put up walls at every turn.

It seems everyone in his circle is just does their best to survive. Or maybe that’s just what growing up is.

The remainder of their morning is spent eyeing the oven and skedaddling while Margaret prepares her pecan pie, ejecting them out of the kitchen with a forceful shoo.

“May says you’re playing football,” Ed says, leading him out to the lounge, passing him a can of soda. “How’d that happen? Last I checked you were doing splits over a pommel horse.”

Peter shrugs, tapping his can with his fingernails, idly paying attention to the football on the old TV. “Needed an extra-curricular, there was an opening and for some reason they accepted me.”

“You were so good at gymnastics,” Margaret comments from the kitchen, whisking away at her bowl. “I’m sure you’re exemplary in anything you do. They’re lucky to have you.”

“Yeah,” Peter says, sculling back the rest of his drink, bubbles burning down his throat. “Looks good on college applications in any case.”

“This kid,” May points to him with her beer bottle. “He does it all, I don’t even know how. He’s brilliant.”

I could do more, he thinks. He wonders again in that moment what it is that makes him so deficient that May couldn’t rely on him to accept the truth about their situation, that maybe he was just too naive. But he’s not. He’d drop his after-school activities and get a job in a hot second if he thought it would help. And for just a split-second he’s mad about that, about being kept in the dark.

But then he sees the strain around her eyes, how the bottle in her hands trembles ever so slightly, how much she makes the hard world soft around them. And it’s easy for him to let that feeling go.

“You’re still freelancing?” Peter asks Margaret, momentarily distracted when Ed’s phone lights up with a call.

“Excuse me, terribly sorry,” he says suddenly, picking up the phone and answering it, rising to his feet to converse in the adjacent room.

“Yes,” Margaret says, eyes lingering over where her husband has gone, his voice carrying over the walls in worried, muffled tones. “Well, consulting. I can work from home, which makes it easier to take care of all my non-existent children,” she gestures to the empty room around them.

“You could go work with Jarvis,” May retrieves a new bottle, popping the cap. “Look after the books, help him replace tyres.”

“Tempting,” Margaret says dully, rolling her eyes. “Can’t understand why I haven’t done that yet.”

Jarvis re-enters minutes later, hands held out apologetically; whispering to Margaret first before he addresses the room.

“Um, we have another guest coming up for dinner, if that’s alright,” he winces at their blank faces. “He works for me. Has a difficult family arrangement and needs a bit of respite. You know how it gets over the holidays.”

Peter meets May’s eyes and shrugs. Anyone working under the business and is vouched for by his surrogate uncle is good by him.

“The more the merrier,” May raises her bottle.

After that, the kitchen needs his hands again.

---

The afternoon is spent preparing the sides, checking in on the truly gargantuan turkey and indulging their cat with nibbles and head scratches. May and Margaret spend the time drinking beer and cider, reminiscing their college years. It’s nice to hear the house full of laughter, given how somber the mood was when they were last all together.

“When did you get a cat?” Peter directs his question to Jarvis, accepting a peeler from him to attack the carrots.

The cat in question is completely black and delightfully plump, not overly so, but enough to indicate it’s decently fed but probably also a little lazy. Or maybe he just thinks that now that it lies tall on the peak on its scratching post, tail flicking idly while it watches them work tirelessly in the kitchen from above.

“Oh, about a year ago. Gives Peggy some company while I'm in the garage. She’s a sweetheart, this one.”

“What’s her name?”

“Friday the Thirteenth. Friday for short.”

“That’s, um, unique.”

“Was the day we adopted her,” Jarvis reaches up to scratch her. “And she’s a black cat, so, you know; spooky.”

Peter tilts his head to the side, considering it. “I like it.”

“Not bad, huh.”

“Yep. It’s a better name than Molly,” he mutters, shaking a slimy carrot shaving off his fingers.

Jarvis pauses. “As in Ringwald?”

Peter sighs and continues peeling.

----

“Did I ever tell you about the time May came to class in a bathing suit?”

“I don’t think they need to hear that --”

“So we have this exam,” Peggy says, ignoring May, “Super important. Fifty percent of our overall grade. She comes in late, dripping wet, the biggest hickey on her neck I have ever seen --”

“Peggy.”

“-- Only thing saving her modesty was Ben’s shirt over her shoulders. I had to lend her a pen so she could sit the exam.”

“Did you pass though,” Peter asks curiously, shovelling a large lump of mashed potato into his mouth.

“Top grades,” she winks at him.

“She sat there for two hours, dripping water onto the ground and got flying colors. Meanwhile I’m the idiot who studied for weeks and got marked down twenty points for --”

The end of her sentence gets cut off by the sound of a car approaching the property, headlights flashing through the windows.

Then, a knock at the door.

“Ah, that must be…” Ed trails off, wiping his hand on a napkin before standing. “Excuse me.”

He goes to answer the front door, Margaret continues her story albeit much more quietly until the voices of Ed and their guest filter through, becoming progressively louder.

“Sorry to intrude, I know it’s the holidays --”

Wait. That voice is familiar.

“Nonsense,” Ed interrupts, “you know you’re welcome anytime. You’re practically family, kid. Come in, we’re eating now, you’re just in time.”

Peter’s fork clangs loudly on his plate when he sees their visitor, unable to keep his grip on the utensil as his limbs start to tingle. He forgets how to breathe for a second, entire body going hot.

Ed’s arm is around Tony Stark and they’re approaching through the living room, heading right for them. There’s a fresh cut on his lip and an ugly, wreath of bruising around his jaw and neck, deeply purple, speckled spots of burst capillaries visible from even where he’s sitting.

The worst part isn’t the intrusion. It’s how Tony looks unlike himself; he looks small and skittish, gaze flicking nervously around the room, arms curled around his waist. Something in his chest starts to feel the closer he gets, weird, hot and unwieldy, burning, like a hot poker has been drawn across his sternum.

“You’re the best, Jar...vis,” Tony trails off when he spots the Parkers, eyes zeroing in on Peter.

“Um,” Peter says, sharing a surprised look with May, not knowing what else to say.

But then suddenly Tony is shaking his head, shrugging out of Ed’s embrace and backing up, the skittish look gone and replaced with anger.

“You’ve got to be kidding me. No fucking way.”

Then he turns, and leaves.

----

*

*

----

tagging: @bylerboyfriends @ravens-starker-stuff, @starker-rays, @ironspiderstarker, @muse-of-gods, @notfor-temporaryuse, @tabbycat1220, @sugarfreecult, @rebel13lion39, @plueschpop, @spideravocados, @jellybbunny,  @booktrashme, @elfkido, @mycatislickingmybedsheets, @queerghostboyo, @disneyprincessdominatrix, @cherrygoldlove @starkerflowers@starkeristheendgame @thewolffearsher @starkersugar , @starkerforlife6969, @css1992, @parkerrbitch, @fuckmemrstark, @blankblankityblank, @ilovemoreid, @blaquedecember, @killmylonelysoul, @notfor-temporaryuse, @arvaen, @chaos-with-a-pen, @notnormallaura, @portiamarie02, @bloodymisanthropist, @ser-no-tonin, @staticwhispersinthedark

[festiveferret]

Chicken Ramen & Craisins

(On AO3)

"Your flight too?" Bucky asked, watching Tony scowl at his phone.

"Yup." Tony threw his phone onto his bed and followed it with his body, collapsing face first. He screeched into his pillow. 

Bucky climbed onto his knees on his own bed and looked out the window to watch the snow pelting down. It was Christmas Eve, and neither of them was going home. "Are you that sad to miss seeing your family?"

Tony groaned. "Not really… but I wanted the break. And I wanted to see Jarvis and Ana. Some friends I haven't seen since I moved out. Plus the tradition of it. The food." He sighed. "Sorry. I'm sure you really miss your mom and Becca."

"Yeah. It's alright, though. I'll go up for Spring Break or something."

"Well, this is going to be a shitty Christmas."

"At least we're not totally alone?" Bucky offered.

Tony smiled over at him. "Yeah. Could be worse. I think the entire rest of the floor made it out before the storm hit, though."

"Wanna check?"

"Sure."

They wandered the halls for a while, but every door was closed, the rooms behind them dark and quiet. 

"Want to hide a stinkbomb under Rumlow's bed?" Tony asked with a cheeky grin. 

Bucky laughed. He grabbed the back of Tony's shirt and dragged him back to their room before he could cause any destruction. Kicking around with nothing to do again, Bucky was struck with holiday melancholy. His stomach growled. "Back home, we always have our dinner on Christmas Eve," he said wistfully. "I think the mess is closed…"

"We can manage! We'll find something for takeout tomorrow, but tonight, let's figure out our own Christmas dinner." Tony rifled through their pantry shelf. "Okay, so dinner. Umm." 

"Don't suppose we have any turkey?" Bucky joked.

"We have chicken-flavoured ramen."

"Good enough."

"And bbq chips, and boxed mac and cheese. And, uh, craisins."

Bucky shrugged. "Just like Grandma used to make."

They cooked their meagre meal on Bucky's hot plate, with hot water from Tony's coffee maker. When it was ready, they sat on the floor in the space between their beds, legs spread out across the gap to almost touch on the opposite side. After the meal, Bucky dug out his chocolate stash and they shared a bar.

"I got you something," Bucky said.

Tony grinned. "I got you something too. Was going to wait until we got back from break to give it to you."

"Might as well go now, yeah?"

"Yeah, why not."

Tony rummaged around under his bed and came up with a haphazardly wrapped package that he handed to Bucky. "You first."

Bucky peeled up the corners of the paper then slid it off. Two books slid out, both about travel. One was filled with beautiful images of the most unusual places to visit around the world. The other was more fact filled.

"You always talk about wanting to go on a huge trip after you graduate. Thought you might want to start planning."

Bucky couldn't stop flipping through them. "Thank you so much. This is really amazing, Tony." In his mind, he was already filling them with post-it notes.

Tony shrugged self-consciously. "I know you prefer to do your research with paper."

"I do. Thank you."

Tony's eyes and cheeks were both bright, and the room felt small and cozy and warm, with the snow pelting outside.

Bucky took Tony's gift out of his underwear drawer and handed it over. Tony tore off the paper and opened the box. His jaw dropped. Tony lifted the tiny construction out of the box. "You built me a robot?"

Bucky shrugged. "Yeah… I mean, it's nowhere near as cool as the stuff you build. It was a kit thing. But you sent me those youtube links, and I've watched you plan all your final projects, and I feel down a rabbit hole. It's silly."

"It's the best gift I've ever been given."

"You can't possibly -"

"No. Seriously. I love it." Tony set the robot down on the edge of his bed and tipped his head back to watch the lights flash and the arms move. "It's perfect. I'll have to think of the perfect name."

Watching Tony grin at the little toy was making Bucky's stomach do that weird flopping thing again. He tipped his head to the side, getting a new angle on Tony, but the feeling didn't go away. "Hey, Tony?" he said.

"Yeah?"

"Do you ever think about you and me being more than friends?"

Tony went very still for a moment, and Bucky could practically hear the gears turning in his head. "Huh. Really?"

"I dunno, I've just been thinking about it lately. Wondering if it was an idea I should run with or not."

Tony grinned. "Is this a proposal-bot, Buckster?"

Bucky laughed. "Wasn't supposed to be." He gathered up all the wrapping paper and when he looked back up again, Tony was giving him an assessing look that felt eerily similar to the ones he'd been giving Tony all night. 

Tony pushed up to his feet and they stood together, chest-to-chest. "It's a bit weird," Tony admitted, quietly. "You're my best friend."

"That doesn't have to change," Bucky said. "I mean, nothing has to change, but even if something else changes, that doesn't have to change."

"Maybe I should kiss you and see what it feels like?"

"Scientific method?"

"Exactly." Tony reached out and grabbed Bucky's elbow with one hand.

They met easily in the middle, Tony tipping his chin up to catch his lips against Bucky's. They were both hesitant at first, moving slowly and gently, testing each other out. But they found the rhythm quickly and slotted together with a soft, shared sigh. Bucky cupped the back of Tony's head, humming with pleasure at the weight and warmth of Tony's chest against his. It was several, long minutes before they parted. Bucky tried to find his breath again.

"Okay, so not weird," Tony said roughly.

"Nope," Bucky agreed. He coughed, squeezing his thumb in his fist to try and calm his body. "Not weird."

"Kinda perfect, if I'm honest."

"Mhm."

"Boyfriend?"

"Yup." Bucky agreed. He kicked the torn wrapping paper out of the way and hooked Tony around the waist, backing him up to the edge of his bed. "Merry Christmas."

Tony beamed up at him, and pressed a kiss to the end of his nose. When Bucky started to tip him towards the bed, Tony stiffened. "Wait."

Bucky froze, heart stuttering. "What?"

"Don't crush Botley."

He groaned. "You are not naming him Botley."

"He's my present, I can name him whatever I want!"

"Okay, that's it!" Bucky dove.

"Ah, Bucky!"

[justkending]

One Night Flame (Epilogue)

Series Summary: Y/N is a 3rd grade teacher, who had a really bad breakup. To help cheer her up, her friends convince her to go out to a bar on a school night, something she never does now a day, and things take an unpredictable turn. The stranger she meets, and later has a one night stand with, may be harder to get rid of than she thought.

Pairing: Y/N Carter x Dean Winchester

Word Count:  2200+

A/N: Pretty sure I wrote this series last year, and I’m just now getting around to writing a epilogue... OOPS! Anyway, finals are this week, so as soon as Friday comes... I’M FREE FOR 6 WEEKS BEFORE THE NEXT SEMESTER!! Which means, hopefully I can sit down and write:) So, enjoy the little I can write right now, and if you haven’t read the series yet! Please do! It’s a good one;)

Epilogue:

“The turkey Dean! The turkey!”

“Right! Right! I’m getting it…” Dean came from the living room, running through the backdoor as the timer went off for his experimental smoked turkey he was trying out for thanksgiving this year. 

“How do you think it’s going to go?” Sam asked, grabbing his wine glass that you had already refilled twice since he’d been there. 

He was helping you with the side dishes as Jess and her grandparents were in the living room, playing board games, waiting for dinner to be ready. Mon and Benny were also there for your feast since you and Dean had introduced them to each other about a month ago. They had really hit it off actually. Hence, spending thanksgiving with friends this year since they didn’t have really close family. 

“Honestly, pretty good. As soon as he got that damn smoker, he hasn’t stopped researching and finding recipes to use it. Even did a few practice rounds with brisket and pork,” you replied, putting the last bit of the deviled eggs on the platter in front of you before setting it up nicely. 

“Ok, but a whole turkey compared to brisket?” Sam questioned, raising his glass with an eyebrow just as high. 

“Yeah, you’re right. That’s why I doubled up on the sides, and I have a ham in the oven,” you chuckled, placing your hand on your belly unconsciously. 

Sam looked down at the motion. Everyone close to you knew. You told them pretty soon once you found out everything was healthy and on the right track in the pregnancy. 

“So… When do you guys figure out the sex?” Sam said, stepping closer and with a smile. “It’s getting close to that time right?”

It was. You were a little over 3 and a half months pregnant. You were the tiniest bit showing, but as soon as the bump became even a little visible, Dean couldn’t keep his hands off of your stomach. It was like he had magnets connected to them. You actually had gotten the results back yesterday, but were waiting to tell the whole family. Dean wanted to wait until his parents were in town, but as soon as you got the letter he almost ripped it open in excitement. Lucky for you, you hid it and convinced him to wait one more day like you planned. 

“Yeah actually. We, um,” you leaned in making sure no one snuck into the kitchen while you told him the little secret. “The letter came yesterday. We’re planning on opening it with all you guys after dinner.”

“After?!” Sam shouted, getting a hush from you. “Aw, come on. You’re going to make us wait?”

“They don’t even know their waiting,” you giggled, turning to the rolls now. Making sure the butter and silverware was out for final touches. 

“But I do, and now I have to wait,” Sam kinda pouted reminding you of Dean. 

“Hey, you asked, and I answered. Plus, you’re going to be waiting 45 minutes max. Who’s to say Dean can even wait that long,” you laughed again rolling your eyes. 

“Ok, turkey is done, and boy do I have a good feeling about it,” Dean said coming in with a proud smile. 

“Have you finally mastered the smoker?” you asked, placing a hand on you hip and the other on straightening your shirt. 

“Oh sweetheart, can’t you smell the victory. I’ve more than mastered it,” he winked walking over and placing that magnet of a hand on your belly without even thinking twice. 

“It’s not just in the smell. We have to taste it too,” Sam snorted. 

“Shut up bitch,” Dean huffed. 

“Dean,” you groaned knowing Jessie was in the other room. 

“Jerk,” Sam retorted instantly. 

“Children!” you interrupted. “Dinner smells amazing, and we should probably invite our guest to eat it before it gets cold. Hmm?” you said poking Dean’s side. 

“Ok, ok. I’ll start carving the turkey. Sam go get everyone,” Dean leaned in giving you a peck on the cheek before moving to the giant bird wrapped in foil. Once Sam was out of the room Dean pulled you close to where he was. “So, you have the envelope?”

“It’s still tucked away from you, you little sneaker. I’ll grab it once we finish dinner.” You maneuvered to where you leaned your cheek on his shoulder and a hand around his back as you watched him carefully begin to carve the turkey. He wasn’t wrong, it did smell amazing. 

“I was thinking maybe before dinner, and then we eat in celebration,” he said bargaining with you. “I mean, I was just thinking…”

“Just thinking? Like thinking all night, just thinking?”

“Maybe…” he dragged out. 

You let out a sigh with a little laugh as you squeeze his bicep. “Ok you impatient man. I’ll go get the envelope. We can do it before dinner if that’s ok with everyone.”

Dean pumped a fist in the air before giving her a big kiss on the cheek. “You go grab that, and I’ll finish carving up this bad boy. Hey Sam, you got everyone?” he shouted toward the living room as Y/N walked out. 

A few minutes later, everyone was in the kitchen looking at the buffet style of thanksgiving goodies scatter across the counter tops. Mashed Potatoes, rolls and biscuits, turkey, gravy, vegetables, stuffing, sweet potato and green bean casserole, the list went on. Y/N walking in last with the envelope in her hands discreetly. Dean saw her slightly wave it at him and he smiled before clapping his hands together. 

“Ok everyone, first off, thank you for allowing Y/N and I to host this year and bring you to our house. We are so very thankful for each and everyone of you, and could not ask for a better group of people in our lives.” Dean smiled as Y/N came and positioned herself into his side. Reflectively, his arm wrapping around her waist pulling her as close to him as he could get her. “We are also very grateful for another thing that happened to us this year,” he grinned, moving a hand to her belly. 

“Immensely,” Y/N smiled at him. The crowd in front of them happy to see their love. “Because of that, we thought why not have some of our favorite people here to share the next step in our news.” She turned back to them. 

“Wait, what next step?” Mary asked, standing next to her husband.

“Oh, hell yeah,” Sam cheered, getting a small slap to the arm by his mom at the language. “Sorry.”

“Wait, do you guys know the gender?” Smart little Jessie spoke up.

“That we do,” Dean grinned all proud. 

“Hey Jessie,” Y/N said, bending down some to her level. “The results are in this envelope. Do you want to open them and read it for us?” 

“I don’t want to mess it up,” she said, slightly nervous. 

“That’s ok. I’m sure your dad would love to help you,” Y/N encouraged.

“Yeah, come on over here Jay. I’ll help ya figure it out,” Sam said squatting with open arms. 

She nodded, taking the envelope and Dean helped Y/N back to her feet before they stood next to each other ready for the reveal. 

“Oh, this is so exciting!” Monique jumped up and down. The rest of the room balancing on their toes in excitement watching Jessie and Sam open the little white paper treasure chest. 

“I’m going to have another grandbaby!” Mary cheered her hands held tightly together as John laughed. 

“Ok, let’s see,” Sam said, scanning the paper for the information, and then pointing it out to Jess. “You ready?”

The excitement for the parents caused them to hold each other tightly in anticipation. 

“Can I say it?” Jessie asked, waiting for confirmation as she looked at her dad. 

“Yeah, go for it.” 

“It’s a girl!” Jessie jumped up and down as Sam smiled. “I’m going to get another girlfriend!”

“Oh my God!” Dean shouted, turning to Y/N and picking her up off the ground gently. The rest of the room cheered and jumped with joy as well. “We’re having a baby girl!”

“We are!” Y/N laughed holding onto Dean.

Once everyone had had their moment to jump and scream, they went around hugging and congratulating the couple. 

“I say we dine to that,” Dean said, raising a beer. 

“I agree with that,” Y/N nodded, raising her sparkling cider. 

Everyone dug into their meals and conversation went around the table. Some about school, some about the fire station, some about John thinking of adding on to the garage he ran. But the main topic of interest… Baby names? Nursery ideas? Who do you think she’s going to look like? When is the wedding again?Are you going to take off extra time at work? Have you gone dress shopping yet? How about babysitters? Do you know any around the area? 

“Oh, don’t worry about babysitters. That’s what the grandparents are for. And since I work from home, I’ll gladly take her off your hand when the time comes,” Mary winked. 

“We’ll definitely be calling you sometime mom. Don’t worry,” Dean laughed leaning back after a full meal. “Now, where’s the pie?” 

______

Later that night.

“So a girl? You think you can handle that?” Y/N smiled as she pulled the covers back and maneuvered to her side of the bed. Her nightly routine was all done as Dean brushed his teeth in the connected bathroom. 

“Of course I can handle that. I helped Sammy raise Jessie. What? You think I can’t do it? Think of me as a boy dad?” Dean wrinkled eyebrows after spitting the toothpaste out. 

“Dean, no one said anything about you not being able to do it. I’m just saying, and even Jessie hasn’t got to this age, girls tend to grow up and-” she started. 

“No, no. I’m not talking about growing up and starting dating, if that’s what you’re getting at. Cause she’s still a little bean in your belly, and even after she comes out, she’ll be a little bean forever,” Dean started.

“I was going to say that I feel like teenage angst with girls is a lot harder, but you just skipped right to the dating part,” Y/N laughed, grabbing her book on her bedside and gently running a hand up and down her stomach. 

“Either way, I’ll take care of it,” Dean said as he flossed in the mirror. “By the way, any of those names mentioned at dinner sound any good to you?”

“Although I love your mom, I don’t think Bertha is going to be up there…”

“Yeah, I don’t know where she got that. I think it was a family name way back when, but I’m not even so sure about that,” Dean cringed coming back in the room. “What about Daisy? That was Jessie’s, wasn’t it?”

“Eh, not bad, but I feel like there is something better. No offense to Jess.”

“Yeah, agreed,” he said, sliding in the bed and making himself mold into Y/N’s side as she read her book in one hand, and played with his hair in the other. 

“What about Winona?” Y/N offered. 

“Like Ryder?” Dean perked up.

“Well I guess, but that wasn’t who I was thinking of. Just liked the name,” she chuckled.

“What about Ryder? That’s badass,” Dean said no in his own world. When he didn’t get a response he looked up to see Y/N with a bitch face. “What?” 

“Nothing, dork,” Y/N sighed. “But let’s keep our options open. 

“Ok, hit me with another.”

“I like Reese…”

“Not bad, not bad. What about Dakota?” Dean countered. “I have a really good friend that lives up there in South Dakota.” 

“Who do you know in South Dakota,” Y/N shrugged, going back to the book in front of her. 

“Same person who was able to pull some strings and get me your address when I first met you,” Dean admitted. 

“What?” Y/N said looking back at him. 

“Her name’s Jody. She’s in the police force up there, and she has some outs and ins with the big people,” Dean wiggled his eyebrows. 

“You little rascal. You really went above and beyond to bring me that scarf back,” Y/N laughed. 

“I had to see ya again darling. Can you blame me?” Dean leaned up kissing her cheek. “Hey, let’s talk about all this tomorrow. Cooking up Big Bird himself made me tired. Then you add in-”

“The 3 slices of pie you ate on top of your thanksgiving plate? Yeah, you’re about to have a carb and sugar crash.”

“You guessed it.”

“Get some sleep Dean-o,” she smiled as he cozied up into her while she read her book. Within minutes his soft snoring took up the room. Like every night, he had to fall asleep with at least one of his hands on her stomach. She woke up with him doing the same thing too. “You’re going to be an amazing father, Dean Winchester. Glad I’m doing this with you.”

One Night Flame Tag:

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[1littleshippergirl1]

The First Day

With his worn out backpack over his shoulders, the straps digging into Harry’s skin with how much things he’d stuffed inside, he made his way into the building. There was a large Welcome Back banner over the front entrance. The colorful walls were something he’d greatly missed. The summer holidays weren’t nearly as fun for him, not when he was forced in his cupboard when he wasn’t working on his chores. Harry disliked his outdoor chores the most because not only would the heat be unbearable at times, but the faint noise of kids his age shrieking happily whilst they played would reach his ears, reminding him of how he couldn’t have fun like that.

But it didn’t matter now.

Now they were back in school and Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had to let him out. He was in Year Four and felt very grown up. He’d even grown an inch or two since last year so that meant he didn't need to use the foot stool to use the water fountain anymore. He was thoroughly glad because his height was one of the many reasons Dudley and his friends made fun of him. But it wasn’t his fault he was so much shorter. Maybe his parents had been short, too.

Harry was lost within his own thoughts. He didn’t see a foot coming out of nowhere. Consequently, he tripped and let out a squeak of alarm. He face planted right on the marble tile. Behind him, there was some laughter. Harry’s face scrunched up in pain, slowly sitting back up. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the culprit: Piers. Piers was one of Dudley’s friends who often came around and was extra mean to Harry for no reason.

“Better watch your step, Potter,” Piers jeered.

Dudley came into Harry's vision next. “Good one,” he laughed like it was supposed to be clever.

Harry pulled his knee up close, grimacing. It was skinned already, bleeding a little, too. He glared up at them with as much intensity as an eight year old could muster. “That wasn’t very nice.”

Dudley and Piers made faces, imitating his words in exaggerated voices.

“That isn’t very nice! Oooh!”

“Stop it!” Harry didn’t like being mocked.

“Stop it!” They repeated in sync. “Stop it!”

Piers snuck a mischievous glance over at Dudley, snatching Harry’s glasses right off his face.

Harry jumped to his feet. “Give those back!”

“Give those back!” Piers mocked him.

“I mean it! They’re mine !” Harry’s heart quickened. He hoped Piers would give them back before the bell would ring. He couldn’t go through the rest of the day without them.

“Now, now, where are you manners?” Piers teased. “Didn’t anybody teach you some?’

“Nah,” Dudley chimed in, “he’s an orphan. He didn’t have anybody to teach him.”

They laughed.

Harry did not.

Piers turned to Dudley, grinning wickedly. “What should I do with ‘em?”

“Break them!” Dudley burst out gleefully.

“No!” Harry erupted.

“Mum and Dad won’t get him another,” Dudley told Piers.

“Please, Piers, don’t do it!”

“What’s in it for me?” Piers twirled the glasses in his hand.

“I don’t know,” Harry looked desperate. He’d be willing to do just about anything so he could see properly again. “What do you want?”

“Gimme your lunch,” Piers ordered.

Harry’s body slumped. “My lunch? But what am I gonna eat?”

Piers shrugged, holding his hands behind his back and trying to pull off a sad look on his face. “I guess you don’t want your glasses after all.... ”

He started to walk away. “No, wait!” Harry said quickly. He clumsily rummaged through his backpack through his blurry vision, coming across the plain brown sack he had his lunch in. “Here.”

Piers’ eyes widened greedily. He tossed the glasses to the side, eagerly digging through to see what goodies were inside. He threw out whatever he wasn’t interested in eating, which ended up being a plain turkey sandwich and a tiny bottle of water. “What’s the big idea?” He demanded. “Where’s all the good stuff?”

“He can’t have any,” Dudley jeered. “Freaks don't get sweets.”

Harry finally found his glasses. He got up and while he kept his eyes to the floor, he said bravely, “I’m not a freak.”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley insisted. “Mum and Dad says so!”

“You mean say so,” Harry quietly corrected.

Dudley didn’t like that all much. He shoved Harry to the ground, much to the amusement of the gathering crowd. They laughed at him when he went crashing to the floor on his back. It sent pain up his spine. “Freak!” His cousin shouted.

It got the other kids to chant as well. “Freak! Freak! Freaky boy!”

Harry hurryingly grabbed his backpack and his lunch items that Piers threw to the floor, pushing past the crowd as he went to his classroom. The laughter became distant after a while, but it still hurt nonetheless.

///

Harry went inside the colorful classroom. There were posters all over the walls, some were for measurements, others were for maps and reminders for how to make a sentence with the right punctuation or if one needed to know how to not make a run-on sentence. He stood near the door, glancing around. The desks were close to each other and oh! They had lids that lifted up where you could put your things inside!

“Hello there,” A pretty lady with soft looking light brown hair and a sweet smile came over to him. She had on a bright yellow dress and her hair was curly and bouncy on her shoulders. “I’m Miss Kelli. What’s your name?”

“Harry Potter,” Harry said shyly.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Harry,” Miss Kelli smiled. ‘Why don’t you take a seat? We’ll get started shortly. You can sit anywhere you like.”

“Okay,” Harry nodded and surveyed the room. Most of the seats were empty except for one desk that was next to the large window that faced the playground. A boy was sitting there all alone. His clothes were worn, like somebody had already had them before he did. His hair was dark brown, almost black like Harry’s own hair and he seemed to be frowning. Maybe he was upset because no one was sitting with him?

He went right over to him with a beaming smile on his face. The boy looked up. He didn’t say anything, he only stared. “Hi I’m Harry!” Harry extended his hand but the boy did not shake it. “What’s your name?”

The boy still didn’t speak.

“Did you hear me?” Harry tilted his head. Maybe he needed to be louder. “I said my name is Harry. What’s-”

“I heard you,” the boy said, annoyed.

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why didn’t you say anything, then?”

“I didn’t want to,” The boy said coolly.

“You don’t have to be mean,” Harry frowned. “I was only asking.”

“Well don’t ,” The boy glared at him as if he caused all the problems in the world. Kinda like how Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon did.

“What’s going on here?” Miss Kelli came by, looking down at them, namely the boy, sternly. “Are you two getting along?”

Harry didn’t want the boy to get in trouble on the first day, even if he was a grouch. “We’re fine, Miss Kelli, honest.”

“You didn’t sound fine,” she wasn’t convinced. “Tom, you sounded upset. What’s wrong?”

So that’s what the boy’s name was.

Tom crossed his arms, another scowling coming out. “I’m fine,” he ground out.

“Tom, we don’t talk to people like that,” Miss Kelli said patiently. She pointed to a poster to the left of them, it was all about how to express yourself in a positive and helpful manner. “Do you see that over there? When you’re feeling angry, you need to take a deep breath and try to focus on something else. You don’t take it out on other people, okay?”

Tom huffed out a puff of air. “Fine.”

Miss Kelli said a few more things before she went back to her own desk. Harry stood there feeling awkward, like he was intruding on something. He waited until the teacher was gone to say anything else. “M’sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to get you in trouble.”

Tom spared him a two second look. Then he went back to looking down at the wooden desk.

“Can I sit down?” Harry asked, tentatively inching his way closer. Tom didn’t respond. But he also didn’t move or explicitly say no, so he took that as encouragement to sit down. “Are you new?” He decided to ask while taking out the materials he needed for the day. “I haven’t seen you around before.”

“No,” Tom said shortly.

“Really?” Harry was surprised. “Oh.”

A moment later, he had another question. “Were you in Miss Isobel’s class?”

The younger years were separated into two, sometimes three different classrooms depending on how big the year was. Harry’s year had lots of students so there were three classrooms for fourth years. They all had different schedules so that was likely why he didn’t notice Tom until now. It was strange, though; usually someone stayed with that same group until they were finished with primary school. They weren’t moved to another group unless they'd done something really bad. Tom didn’t look bad. He seemed harmless.

“Or Mr. Kenny’s?”

“So what if I was?” Tom grumbled.

“Why are you in this class then?”

“None of your business,” Tom told him.

“But why?”

“Because I said so.”

Harry got quiet after that. That’s what Uncle Vernon said during the rare times when he broke the Dursleys rule of asking a question.

///

“We should be friends,” Harry declared during art class. Miss Kelli took them to another room filled with artwork on the walls, easels in the corners and smocks hanging up to wear over their clothes. The easels were placed in rows and they were to sit at one next to their desk partner. They were allowed to paint whatever they wanted.

Tom was using a tiny brush dipped in green paint. He’d made a giant snake and was currently working on the scales. He paused, looking just like Aunt Petunia, as if he’d swallowed something unpleasant. “What?”

“We should be friends,” Harry smiled.

“No,” Tom said bluntly.

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to.”

“But why ?”

Tom gripped the brush much harder than before.

////

Tom was sitting alone at lunch. Just like in Miss Kelli’s room, he saw at the table that was furthest from everyone. Even though he declined Harry’s suggestion that they be friends, he was still going to try. Maybe Tom was having a bad day. No one talked to him at all. It was like Harry's situation, only this wasn’t because Dudley had scared the other kids. People just seem to naturally avoid Tom.

Poor Tom

Harry felt bad for him. He must have definitely been lonely. That only proved to him that Tom needed a friend. He couldn’t be by himself forever! So he made his way over there. He tried to be quick about it; Dudley was coming into peripheral vision.

“Hey freak !”

Harry sat on the bench, doing his best to ignore his cousin. “Hi,” he said.

Tom stared.

“I told you I didn’t want to be your friend.”

“Okay,” Harry said instead of arguing with him. “But I have nowhere to sit. Can I sit here.”

Tom muttered something he didn’t quite catch.

“Where’s your lunch?” Harry peered at him, his eyes brimming with curiosity.

Tom glowered at him.

It dawned on Harry in that minute. “Do you not have any lunch?”

Tom crossed his arms, his gaze wandering elsewhere. The faintest hint of red appeared in his cheeks.

“Do you want some of mine?” Harry offered. “I haven’t got much, only a sandwich and water. But you can have half of it.”

Tom looked like he didn’t believe him. Not until Harry unevenly tore the sandwich in half. He gave the bigger piece to Tom, who had a flash of surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected to be given anything. Harry glanced around, wondering how he could give Tom some water. He spotted a stack of plastic cups on a wheeling cart not too far from them. “You should get one of those,” he said. “I’ll give you some water.”

“Why?” Tom narrowed his eyes.

Harry blinked innocently. “Aren’t you thirsty?”

A few seconds passed by.

Tom got up to fetch the cup. He dropped the cup in front of Harry, watching determinedly as if to ensure that he was actually going to oit. And he did; he poured half of it into the cup and slid it back to Tom.

He didn't immediately dig in like Harry thought he would. In fact, he was just looking at it. Like it was some strange object.

“Do you not like it?” Harry asked. “I don’t have anything else but I can see if I can bring something different tomorrow.”

He watched as Tom’s eyes lifted from the sandwich to meet his own.

“Why did you give me this?”

“You looked hungry,” Harry said.

“You don’t even know me.”

“That’s alright,” Harry said. “I don’t mind. I’ll share with you tomorrow too if you want.”

Tom seemed like he was pondering his words and then very slowly he took a bite of the sandwich.

////

He didn’t know if he should go up to Tom this time. He was under a tall tree with his knees pulled up to his chest, glancing over at the fence. Harry wanted to; he wanted another chance at talking to him. But the other boy was giving off a feeling that made him reconsider; it was just like when Uncle Vernon had a bad day at work. He would go to his chair after coming back. Aunt Petunia knew better than to disturb and she’d tell Dudley to go find something else to do than watch the telly, which usually upset him until he was promised a new toy or a day full of fun with whatever he wanted to do.

Harry stood in the middle of the playground, watching him. He didn’t see Dudley coming up behind him until it was too late. He was yet again shoved, falling to the ground with one swift swipe. Harry turned on his side, looking up at his cousin with dread filling in his stomach.

“Leave me alone, Dudley,” Harry’s knees were aching.

“Why should I?” Dudley sneered.

“You’re being mean!”

“Aww,” Dudley mocked. “Is the freak gonna cry like a whittle baby?”

“I’m not a baby!” Harry jumped to his feet.

“Yeah you are!”

“No I’m not!”

“Yeah you are!” Dudley said loudly. “You’re a baby! Baby, baby !”

“Stop it!” Harry said hotly.

“Stop it,” Dudley imitated him.

Harry glared as fiercely as he could. He really wanted to wipe that look off his cousin’s face but he didn’t want to be grounded to his cupboard. Instead, he stormed off towards the tree Tom was under. He’d seen the whole thing, evidently. His expression was impassive as Harry plopped down.

“Do you know him?” Tom nodded toward Dudley’s direction.

“He’s my cousin,” Harry scowled for the first time that day. “He hates me.”

Tom only hummed. “He’s stupid,” he said at last. “He still can’t even remember his times tables.”

That brought a smile out of Harry. It was true; Dudley still struggled with previous years’ material. It was one of the reasons why Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia got mad at Harry whenever he did better than Dudley.

Tom’s eyes landed on Harry once again. It made him feel like the other boy was staring deep into his soul or something. “Does he hurt you?”

“Huh?” Harry blinked. “Er, sometimes.”

“Sometimes how ?” Tom said impatiently.

Harry squirmed. He wasn’t supposed to talk about that. “Er, well-”

“Don’t bother lying to me,” Tom said sharply. “I can tell when people are.”

“I wasn’t,” Harry insisted. He fiddled with his hands under the scrutiny of Tom’s gaze. “Er, well, he hits me sometimes...and he has this game he plays with his friends, Harry Hunting.”

Tom arched an eyebrow.

A flush came over Harry’s face. The stare made his fidgeting worse. “They like to chase after me. Once Dudley’s friend Piers....he held my arms and Dudley punched me.” He grimaced, just remembering how painful his stomach was to the touch for weeks after.

Tom’s cold gaze lingered on Dudley, who was a ways away, standing in front of a smaller boy, holding up his fist threateningly. “He’s a coward,” he spat. “Only bloody cowards hit people.”

Harry pulled out a wrinkled piece of parchment paper from his pocket and a couple of crayons. He was continuing to work on the picture he’d started this morning during their free time in Miss Kelli’s classroom. He still listened to what Tom was saying.

“-wonder how he’d like it, getting hit back,” Tom said in a scarily calm voice.

Harry’s head snapped in horror. Was Tom going to try and hit Dudley back? He didn’t want him getting hurt. He couldn’t, he just couldn’t! He’d be outnumbered.

“You’re...you’re not going to do anything, are you?”

Tom only smirked.

////

They were released at the end of the day. The younger years had to wait to be picked up by their parents but fourth years could walk home if they wanted to. Harry hurriedly grabbed his things, rushing down the hallway--but not running--so he could catch Tom in time before he left. The entrance doors flew open; he stood at the top of the cobblestone stairs, looking out for him. The sun was shining, a warm shadow coming over his face. He brightened up when he saw Tom at the end of the walkway, about to turn right.

He rushed down there. “Tom! Tom!”

Tom made a face when he saw him but it didn't hurt Harry’s feelings. He came to an abrupt stop in front of him, breathless and panting to re-catch his breath.

“What?” Tom said grumpily. “What do you want now ?”

Harry grinned toothily, but also a bit shyly. “I made you something!”

Tom blinked.

He held it up; it was a stick figure drawing of the both of them. Harry was drawn in red and he colored Tom in bright green. With a hopeful gleam in his eyes, he presented the drawing to him. He rocked on his heels. “Do you like it?”

Tom kept his eyes on the drawing, staring at it in wonder. “You drew this for me?” He demanded.

“Yeah,” Harry nodded. He pointed to the corner of the paper where Tom’s name was scribbled in. “See? It has your name on it. Well, do you like it?”

“It is...acceptable,” Tom decided on. In a whisper, he added, “Thank you, Harry.”

Harry beamed. “You’re welcome!”

There was a tiny smile on Tom’s face.

Both boys were quiet. The only noise came from the chirping birds, the cars that passed by and the chatter of the other children. That is, until the doors came open again and Dudley ran out. Harry’s hands flew up to his mouth, his shoulders beginning to shake with laughter.

Dudley had a bucket over his head and apparently, he was having difficulty getting it off. “Mummy!” he wailed, running around helplessly. (Harry wondered how he didn’t fall on the stairs). “Mummy, help!” Dudley’s friends tried to run after him, yelling for him to stop so they could help. He did not do that, however. He kept running until he hit a tree and fell right on his back.

Harry laughed.

“Oh, I wonder if he’s alright,” Tom said in a voice that suggested he felt oppositely. “Wouldn’t it be a shame if he was hurt?”

[jadekitty777]

On Your Six, Chapter 8

You’re going to be offended when I tell you I’m still not done. How did this happen? How did this end chapter get so long that I have to break it in half and I still have not finished it? 

Oh right, I wrote myself into a corner and had to get myself out of it in the most outlandish way possible. Yeah that checks out.

For now please enjoy chapter 8 of what is now a 9-chapter story. Because I have no self control.

Day 8: Free Day for @taiqrowweek

Rating:  T for this chapter, M for overall

Words: 6.5k

Summary: Qrow was what most of society would call a small-town criminal. But to those oppressed, he hoped only to be a healer. In an effort to make a change in the world, he moves from kingdom to kingdom, searching for branded omegas in need. His goal? To turn the derogatory words the reformatories forced them to bear on their skin into works of art.

Then one day, his past catches up to him in the form of Taiyang, his former best friend, with a brand of his own stained onto his skin and a plea for help in his eyes. Qrow has no choice but to answer, even if it means he’d have to face his mistakes once and for all.

[An ABO-style universe in a modern-day style Remnant. No Grimm, because people are the real monsters in this one]

Ao3 Link: Hang...

~

Qrow was thirty-two when it finally happened.

He was working out of Mantle on the cusp of winter. The bustling, compact metropolis had become a bit of a mainstay for him over the years, thanks to his connections with the Omega Alliance. The political party had formed half a decade ago, heralded by none other than Robyn Hill. The movement was quickly becoming a worldwide spectacle, with more factions forming in every major city of the four kingdoms almost every week. With the main branch strategically close to Atlas though, it had become a media-struggle to both stay in the spotlight and to silence the oppressed.

It was just the kind of thing that might turn the tides for omega rights once and for all.

However, for Qrow, the Alliance had become a bit of a safe haven. The group had welcomed him in with open arms and encouraged him to continue his work, with the stipulation the Alliance would be endorsing the rebranding efforts in their press conferences and rallies. In turn, he was given a ‘secret nesting spot’ no matter where he seemed to travel to and a donation fund that kept him so well off, Tai stopped trying to measure his waistline with his eyes whenever he came to visit. All the while, his anonymity was kept intact and his clientele full.

It seemed like an eternity since he’d been able to live so comfortably.

Which led him to where he was that fateful day. The Greenleaf Inn was a well-sized, three-star hotel that always conveniently had its mini-suite open whenever he was around. The bed alone was worth its weight in lien, but the mini-bar fridge and spa tub made him feel like he was a king. The extra space also allowed for more pleasant accommodations for his clients.

That day, he was working with a young journalist by the name of Forest. He was a chatterer and a bit of a political enthusiast, his support for the Alliance borderline fanatic. Most of their time was spent discussing current events.

“Vacuo’s press conference is all in an uproar. Pride leader Kali can’t even get a word in edgewise; no one’s listening to her. It’s all looking pretty bad – then her Alpha gets to his feet. He’s like a monster of a man – wider than a truck and tall as a house. Everyone shuts up when he clears his throat and says his mate has something to say. Then he just sits down and lets her talk. Sienna reported that Kali turned into a real lioness and took charge!” Forest mimicked the swiping of claws. “It was spectacular! But of course, the headlines are all about what Ghira did and Kali’s performance is just a side note. It’s always about the alphas – uh, no offense.”

Well maybe discussing was too strong a term. “None taken.” Qrow replied offhandedly from the floor, more concerned with getting the arch of the fox’s face just right where it curled over the shin bone. He wasn’t even sure Forest heard him anyways.

“Suppose the end result is what matters though. Vacuo was the last agenda we needed to be on. Now we’re ensured the UFK really starts discussing omega affairs this winter. And I think-”

He never did find out what Forest thought – because a rapping on the door cut him off. Qrow turned off his pen, wary as he got to his feet. It wasn’t typical he got visitors out of the blue.

Then a voice shouted from the other side. “Harbinger, hurry up!”

“May?” Forest sat upright.

Qrow was already across the room in two strides, throwing open the door. The blue-haired omega was in a state, her scent bleeding panic as she cut right to the chase, “You need to get out of here! The police are in the lobby, looking for you!”

“What?!” He barked, heart rate skyrocketing. “But how?”

May pushed him back, hurrying inside. “Don’t know. Joanna’s trying to stall, but we only got a few minutes at most before this place is crawling. What do you need? Forest, you too, get up!”

The reporter seemed to snap out of his daze, jumping to his feet. “Why don’t we just hide in another room?”

“That might work for you, but not him. They’re gonna raze this place from the ground up.”

“Then hide him. I’m going down the stairwell.” Qrow insisted, having already thrown his kit back together and snapping the case closed. He got to his feet, pulling his scroll from his pocket. “Here. Destroy it.”

She looked from the device to him, uncertain. “But I can help-”

“No.” He barely withheld the growl. “You’re a lead member of Atlas’ branch. They see you helping me and the kingdom’s gonna run with the bad press. You don’t need that, especially not with the UFK assembly so close.”

For one long terrible moment, he was certain she was going to keep arguing. But any bluster was blown out with a heavy sigh and a helpless, “Good luck.”

He was going to need it.

~

“Shit.” Qrow cursed as he caught a gander of the lobby floor from the little window in the stairwell door. The place was crawling. He could already see a pair of officers at the elevator doors. There was almost definitely one at every exit point as well.

He backed up, trying to think. There was no way he was getting out undetected and the moment they started questioning him or asking for identification, he was going to be in trouble. He thought about reconsidering Forest’s idea – but even if they played a game of Scooby Doo chase with the cops, it wasn’t going to be long before they caught sight of him. He couldn’t just go up to his room and wait for the inevitable either.

He was trapped. His only hope was if he spontaneously learned how to fly.

Unless… He tilted his head up, looking at the flights of stairs. Which went all the way up to the roof.

The buildings weren’t that far apart.

It was crazy. But, it might be his only chance.

Qrow shoved his tattoo kit underneath the last stairwell, pushing it in the corner until the black case was hidden in the shadows. It would be too heavy to take with him. He’d just have to hope no one would be able to find it in the meantime. Appeased, he rushed up the stairs, trying to take several at a time. He was about halfway up the third when he heard the first-floor door open. He froze.

“You really think he’ll come down this way?” A voice, high and reedy, floated up from below.

The other voice was gruff and masculine. “You heard the chief, Viola. She wants all exits covered.”

“Just seems excessive Taylor. All of us for a guy not even hurting anyone.”

“Rookie, I’ll give you some advice: the judgment calls are for the courts. We just need to do our jobs. And yours right now is to get to that top floor in case our perp makes a break for the roof, capeesh?”

She sighed. “Got it.”

The first footfall hit the steps.

Qrow thought about it for half a second – and then he bolted.

Surprise was on his side, because it took the officers a precious few seconds to understand before their shouts rang up and they started chasing after him. He could hear Taylor fumbling with a radio, calling for backup. By that point, Qrow was bypassing the second floor and heading toward the third.

“Stop! Police!” Viola’s voice cracked on the yell.

He felt kind of bad, scaring the newbie. Had he had any breath left, he might have shouted back an apology. As it were, all his focus went onto the stairs in front of him, trying his best not to fall as he climbed five… six… seven… eight-

Bam!

The roof access door swung open and hit the brick. He paused long enough to scope his options –apartment complex to the left, half a story lower, flat rooftop; warehouse to the right, higher, guardrail fencing on the perimeter – before he made a decision and skirted left. The ground underneath him was slippery from rainfall that had frosted over with late autumn’s crisper temperatures, so he struggled for traction, preparing to jump.

“Don’t do it!” Viola yelled just as he did it.

For a moment, as he leapt over ten feet through the air, nothing below but a sharp drop to the alleyway, he felt weightless and free.  He really was flying.

And then realty was rushing up to meet him as his feet hit the opposite roof, slipped on the ice, and slipped again when his hands weren’t enough to catch him. The impact, mostly taken on his right side, was jarring and left him a little breathless and aching. Still, he was able to stand a few moments after, turning back to look at the officers staring down at him across the gap.

“Ha! Better luck next time turkeys!” Qrow saluted them before he strut towards the roof hatch. Now all he had to do was-

Wait.

Why was everything spinning?

The distant sound of cars was fading, and as he lifted his hand to his face, he watched it double before his eyes.

Shit. He was gonna-

The ground rushed up to meet him a second time, having just enough consciousness left to land on his back.

He watched the sky above him until the last star blinked out.

~

She’d been staring at him for the past five minutes.

He could just barely see her above the pages of the newspaper he was pretending to read. He figured she would eventually go and pester her dad, just one room over and making quite a racket in the kitchen as Tai no doubt overdid it in trying to be the perfect host (and would only try harder if Qrow told him it was no big deal). But the longer he tried to wait her out, the more it became obvious his niece had a mission and he was part of it.

Eventually he folded – both the newspaper and his resolve – and turned to her, trying not to be appear as intimated by a mere child as he actually kind of was, “Something wrong?”

Yang lifted her chin up high, stomped her way over from the staircase to his little corner of the couch, and slammed a box of markers down on the coffee table. “Make me pretty.”

“Huh?”

“Like daddy.” She said with great exasperation. She climbed up beside him and with the lack of shame only children could have pulled off the shirt of her PJs and turned so her back could face him. “I want to be pretty too.”

Understanding slowly dawned on him. “Shouldn’t we ask your dad first?”

“I did, he said it was fine.” She hadn’t but Tai thought it was too adorable to be mad about it.

“Alright then.” Qrow turned, pulling a blue marker from the box. But when he turned back to face her, the pen was now black and Yang was two years older. “What do you want this time firecracker?”

“A motorcycle!” She shouted, bouncing excitedly.

He laughed, draping her long hair over her shoulder. “A motorcycle? Now what would a girl like you want that for?”

“I’ma get one when I’m older. Daddy said! I can get a real motorcycle when I turn eighteen.” She told him.

He uncapped the marker. “And that’s what you want, huh?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “He said I could get a real tattoo too, as long as I think really hard about it since this one won’t come off in the bath.”

Qrow started to outline the wheels. “That’s right. You want to make sure it’s something you want forever.”

“Once I decide, you’ll do it for me, right?”

The words halted him momentarily, overcome by the sudden fondness filling his heart. “’Course I will.”  

“You swear?” Yang turned her head, trying to look serious but only managing to look adorably pouty. “Even if they pop out your eyes?”

The snort of surprise burst out of him. “It’s scratch out your eyes – and yes, even then.” And just so she could know that he meant it, he crossed an X over his heart.

“Good.”

He pressed the marker back to her skin, moving onto the bike’s frame, when Tai called out to him, “Qrow, look!”

He rose his head, looking out across the yard to see the omega holding a square, plywood board between his hands. As he gave the nod, Yang didn’t hesitate to bust her fist right through it.

“Looking good!” Qrow called back, before turning back to Ruby. Draped over his lap so she could reach her toys, she was making little action noises with her mouth as she crushed Bastinda underneath Zwei’s massive paws. He was just adding the color to the fur of the corgi version on her back.

A sharp movement had Bastinda flying down the porch steps and a stripe of white going all over her back. Luckily, six-year-olds weren’t picky.

“Bye, bye mean witch.” Ruby waved before she started taking her wolf on a walk along his side. “Uncle Qrow, who’s your favorite?”

He wrinkled his nose, trying not to think of the shoddy reboot that was slowly destroying the integrity of the original. Still, he answered honestly, “Rosette.”

“Why?”

“’Cause she was the big hero.” He explained. “I wanted to be just like her growing up.”

Her eyes lit up. “And now you are her, right?”

He quirked a brow. “What do you mean?”

“Daddy told me that’s why you’re gone so long, ‘cause you’re out making the world a better place.” Another stripe went down her back. She blinked curiously. “Why’d your face go all red?”

“Ah, nevermind that! Hey, you know what this needs?” He looked away, grabbing at the pink marker.

It was the same color his cheeks had been by the time he was turning back around, no longer outside but sitting up in Ruby’s room, consoling the sniffling ten-year-old the only way he knew how.

As he added to the growing chain of roses growing along her shoulder blades, he said, “Don’t let them get to you kid.”

“But it’s not fair! I’m way faster at running bases than Cardin, but they made me sit on the bench the whole time! I didn’t even get to play.” She swiped angrily at her eyes.

If Qrow listened real hard, he could hear Tai’s voice rising from downstairs. The phone call didn’t seem to be going well. “You’re right, it’s not fair at all. Do you know why your teacher did that?”

“Because,” Ruby buried her face in her pillow, the rest coming out muffled, “I’m going to be an omega and omegas don’t do great things.”

He was glad she couldn’t see his scowl. “Who told you that?”

“Everyone knows that.”

“I don’t.” He capped the marker, setting it aside before shifting on his knees, brushing back her hair with his fingers. “Because I’ve met omegas from all over the world, and so many of them are doing great things every single day. Dangerous things even, all so that they can make things more fair for everyone. They’re some of the bravest people I know.”

She rose her head. “Really?”

“Really. But you know what the big secret is?” He lent back, tapping his scent gland. “It doesn’t matter what’s here.” He tapped his head. “It matters what’s in here. As long as you put your mind to it and work hard at it, then there’s nothing you can’t do.”

Ruby considered this, asking, “You’re not just saying that?”

“Hey now, take it from the alpha who can draw. I know my stuff kiddo.”

It earned him one of the few things she seemed to share with her dad – a bright, beautiful smile. But as she went to a respond, a knocking on the door drew his attention.

Qrow blinked blearily at the cell doors where the guard was banging his nightstick against the metal. “Branwen, up! You got a visitor.”

Gingerly, he pulled himself up, his healing ribs screaming in protest at the movement. It took several moments longer before he could actually stand and shuffle his way out the door, following the guard down the hall. He kept his head down, not wanting to meet eyes with any of the other prisoners.

Since he was injured, he was being kept in the protective custody side of the prison. It had its bonuses – he didn’t have to share a cell or run through the motions the general population side did. He also didn’t have to cuff up when they let him out of his cell, mostly because they couldn’t get them on around the sling. The downside was the PC side of the jail was also where the most violent criminals were kept. There was one inmate in particular who-

“Oh little bird, you’ve come fluttering my way yet again.” Tyrian jeered.

-particularly got on his nerves. Qrow didn’t look up, but that didn’t stop the fierce growl from leaving his throat. The serial killer only cackled at his display.

If this was what it was like in here, he wasn’t entirely sure how he’d survive once he was reassigned into GP. A whole room full of alphas, all of them constantly competing for dominance, was a disaster waiting to happen. Not for the first time since he’d arrived, did he start wishing he’d presented differently. He’d have better chances in an omega-beta prison.

So preoccupied he was by his anxious thoughts, he’d forgotten entirely why he was out of bed in the first place until he was walking into the visitor’s area. The section was marked by a row of doors, each one leading into a small room that had nothing more than a few chairs and a wooden counter separated in half by bulletproof plexiglass. There was a metal, slated ring in it to allow the two parties to talk.

The guard unlocked the rightmost room, saying, “You’ve got one hour,” before swinging open the door.

Seeing a familiar face, even if it was only Clover Ebi’s, filled him with so much joy he could have cried.

The soldier was all smiles for him, though the cursory look over he gave him left a twist of worry at the corner of his eyes. “Hey Qrow. I’m so relieved to see you. You look… rough.”

“What gave that implication? The fractured wrist or the three broken ribs?” He replied tightly, delicately sitting down. “Suppose I shouldn’t be surprised you know my name either.”

“’Fraid everyone does at this point. You’re all over the news.”

He grimaced. “Internationally?”

“If I said no, would it make you feel better?”

“Not if I know you’re lying.” Gods, Tai was probably having a heart attack right now. And the girls… he wondered if they even fully understood what was going on. He raked a hand through his hair. “Fuck.”

Clover’s expression was one of sympathy. “Hey, it’ll be alright. Now that I’ve found you, we can get you a good lawyer, rather than the pro bono one they appointed you to. Robyn’s already running rallies in the streets of every kingdom and donation rings to hire the best in the business. And Fiona’s calling about a dozen firms a day. She’s already got-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Qrow cut him off, disoriented. “Slow down trigger. I get I’m not in a great position, but isn’t that a bit excessive for a small end criminal court case? And anyways, it’s not like I’m going to trial tomorrow.”

His flippancy only seemed to make the omega more agitated as he lent back, running a hand over his face. “Oh shit. They didn’t assign you a counsel, did they?”

“I’m not that depressed.”

“A legal counsel Qrow!” He scoffed. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, now he was so off-track he wasn’t even sure he boarded the train. “Am I… missing something?”

With a deep breath, Clover schooled his features, resting his arms along the tabletop to lean forward. “Qrow, your crime is being considered as a global offense. They’re expediating your case through the process so you can be tried at the UFK.”

Realty cracked and shattered around him.

“W-What?!” He squawked, panic setting in immediately. “Are you fucking serious?!” When the other could only offer him a solemn nod, Qrow withdrew, dropping his head onto the table and curling his one good arm around his face, as if it would be enough to shield him from the future. “Oh Gods. Oh fuck.”

He was screwed. Utterly and royally.

The UFK, or United Four Kingdoms, assembly was a yearly session of the kingdom’s four heads of state and their councils. Mostly it was a peace gathering, a way to discuss the improvements or needs of each kingdom and provide support or discuss any eco-social changes that may need addressing. It was why the Alliance had been so prominent in recent months; so that the four heads might talk about potential alternations to omega rights. A discussion that had not been gaining enough, if any, traction in the past few years. That was why Robyn had organized the ‘Prides’ – a central team in each kingdom whose sole job was to attend the national press conferences and make a loud enough roar that the council would have to take notice. Each one had done a fantastic job, and the news channels had been bustling with stories about how this year’s session would absolutely have to focus on the matter of omega equality.

And in one fell swoop, Qrow had ruined that.

Trials weren’t unheard of at the UFK, but they were extremely rare. In the eighty years the assembly had been convening, there’d only been three prior cases that had gone to court there and each one had had a huge impact on universal laws. If he was tried and convicted, there was no telling what impact his case would have.

A tapping on the glass made him look up tentatively.

Clover’s jaw was set with determination. “It’s okay, Qrow. We’re here to help you.”

“No!” He sat up, gritting his teeth around the pain it caused him. “None of you should get involved! I can’t drag you down with me.”

“Qrow, think for a minute – do you really believe your arrest was just a coincidence?”

That drew him up short. “I…”

“Face it, you’re not exactly impossible to locate. Someone’s probably known where you were for a while and they were just waiting for the perfect moment to bring you in.” He indicated the air around them. “And this is it. The absence of counsel, the lack of prep time, keeping your whereabouts classified. It all adds up. They’re trying to turn you into a scapegoat.”

It was hard logic to beat. Qrow wasn’t exactly uninformed on just how messed up the legal system could be – and the more involved he’d gotten with his work, the deeper the rabbit hole just seemed to go. But to have it be twisted onto him in such a way, like he was merely everyone else’s plaything, made him feel violated.

He wondered how his mother would have felt, seeing him like this.

“So now what?” Qrow finally asked.

“Now, we fight back.” Clover replied assuredly. “Your case could be a gamechanger for omegas everywhere. We aren’t just going to lie down and watch it happen.”

He snorted. “So you’re turning the scapegoat into a martyr.”

“No.” The soldier declined, then added with a quirk of his lips, “We’re turning you into our harbinger.”

It took Qrow a moment to get it. Then he laughed.

A harbinger of change. There might just be some hope left after all.

~

Three days later, he met his defense attorneys.

Pietro was a kindly, wheelchair-bound beta with thirty years of experience. The minute the man started talking, it was obvious he knew his stuff as he lined out what to expect for the court process and what laws that may entangle them from certain kingdoms they might have to prepare for. Things Qrow hadn’t even considered, like operating a business out of a building with only a residential grade fire system – a law the more wildfire prone Mistral took very seriously.

His understudy was named Rhodes. Also a beta, as all lawyers were, the man had only a few years on Qrow himself, but he had a sharp wit and passionate aspiration for justice. He spent most of the time keeping a detailed note log on the things being said, explaining it would help them decide on the best strategy to use when they were in front of the UFK.

“The most difficult thing we have to contend with is time.” Rhodes affirmed. “Unlike most high-profile cases handled in the courts, the kingdoms aren’t going to allow the hearing to go beyond a single day so it doesn’t interfere with the other agendas they have to get too. That means limited evidence presentation and witness testimonies. We’ve got about eight hours to prove you’re an innocent man, which means every second in that room is going to count.”

Qrow swallowed hard. “What about the jury? They on a time limit too?”

“No. The jury are the councils.” Pietro explained. “The members of each kingdom’s council board will give their verdict, and it’s the majority vote of each council that decides their verdict. As long as you get a unanimous majority, you’ll be given your verdict. So, our focus will need to be on swaying each kingdom individually.”

Yeah. No pressure.

Rhodes tapped the end of his pen on the desk between them. “As you can see, it’s a bit of a balancing act. Ideally, our witness testimonies need to come from all over. If you can get us even just a moderate list of people from each kingdom you believe would be willing to speak for you then we can scope out the best choice from each one.”

“Perhaps.” The elder beta intoned, rubbing his chin. “Though Vale may not need any pushing. Our focus should truly lie in targeting the kingdom’s core values.”

“We also need to make sure to address the issues with improper due process.”

“A fine point.”

“I hope you both know I’m barely keeping up with this.” Qrow admitted.

Pietro smiled forgivingly. “Don’t worry your head about it, my boy. Just focus on giving us everything we can possibly work with to keep you out of jail. Do you have any family or friends who might speak on your credibility of character?”

There was only one person that came to mind – and there was no way he would even dare suggest Tai to spill his whole story for millions to hear.

“No.” He replied shortly.

“Not even-”

“Really. No. My old man’s a deadbeat. I haven’t seen my sister in over a decade. And unless these things come with a séance, my mom ain’t gonna have much to say either.” He lent back, shrugging his good shoulder. “As for friends, I haven’t exactly been living stably to form many close relationships. ‘Fraid I won’t be much use on that list either – never kept a detailed record to keep my clients safe. But, I know someone who just might be able to rally up a few.”

Pietro nodded. “Then let’s start there.”

Thankfully, that was the last time they asked him about family.

~

One day short of a week later, he was visited by someone other than his attorneys.

This time, the sight of a familiar face did actually make him cry, even if Tai immediately laid into him.

“You jumped off a roof?! What in the Gods’ Realms were you thinking? You could have died!” Tai smacked his hand on the table for emphasis. He wasn’t even sitting, too agitated to. Had the glass not been separating them, he was pretty sure he would have been in for the ear pinching of his life. “Are you okay, or did the fall knock out what little brain cells you have left?!”

Yet, the omega’s worry was so strong, Qrow could scent it through the little holes in the metal ringlet. It was familiar and more comforting then even a single second locked up in this awful place could even marginally hope to feel like. So, he broke down harder.

Tai sighed and gave up, dropping his forehead against the glass. Qrow struggled to reign himself in, but the days had been too long, too awful and too terrifying to stop the broken dam. The most he managed to get out was a wobbly, “m’sorry.” As he curled himself over the desk.

They hovered there, in silence.

Then, for the second time in his life, Tai purred at him, “I‘m here. You’re okay.”

It was like being draped in an extra soft blanket or pulled into an exceptionally warm hug, something he felt from the inside out. The shakes started to fade and the tears slowed to a drizzle, and then even that went away.

When he lifted his head, Qrow could almost pretend the outburst hadn’t happened at all. “Sorry, meds I’m on just make me emotional.”

“Sure they do.” Tai let him lie, finally taking his seat with the heavy gracelessness of someone who just got off an overnight flight.

While there were at least a dozen questions he wanted to ask, the most prominent came forward first: “Where are the girls?”

“In the waiting room. Ruby got scared. Somehow she got it in her head you’d be crippled.” He gave him a disdainful look, “Can’t imagine why she’d think that.”

He hid his grimace behind a smile, “Shoulda just told her birds my age can fly.”

It was the wrong thing to say as Tai scowled. “Don’t joke! Seriously, I can’t believe how idiotic that was. You’re lucky that little stunt only resulted in a few injuries.”

“Well, I ain’t feeling very lucky.” He snapped back. “Seriously what did you want me to do?”

The omega threw up his hands. “Not try to kill yourself! Do you know how terrified I was?! And then I couldn’t find you no matter how many jails and hospitals I called and I thought-!” His shoulder dropped. “I don’t know what I thought.”

But Qrow knew. He knew exactly what kind of worst-case scenarios must have played through his head when suddenly Qrow was all over the headlines after he tried to escape police arrest and was transported to a nearby care facility for his injuries, only to then disappear completely, the system deliberately hiding him to secure him for the big case. It wasn’t until he’d started meeting with Pietro and Rhodes that he’d learnt just how many infringements of his rights there’d already been. He wasn’t even supposed to be in a prison without being tried first. They were trying to work it into his case.

“If it weren’t for Robyn I never would of even of found you.”

Qrow’s confusion spiked. “Wait, how do you know her?”

“I don’t. She called me off your scroll.” So much for destroying it. “Once she got me in the loop, I took the first flight over I could.”

He didn’t know whether to feel thankful, or violated.

Wait.

He sucked in a sharp breath. Robyn was the one he’d directed his attorney team too. “She didn’t tell you anything else, did she? About the trial?”

“She just told me you were going in for it soon and that you could use some support.” Tai replied. “They aren’t really letting anyone in to see you if they can’t show that they’re family. I had to bring Yang’s birth certificate just to get in here.”

(Qrow might have cited Clover – if he wasn’t fairly certain the man could get himself into anywhere on badges and charisma alone.)

Still, relief swept through him. By whatever graces of the Gods there were, it sounded like Robyn had played him straight on this one. She must have figured out why he’d chosen not to disclose that information himself – and of that he could be grateful. He’d rather spend a hundred years in jail then let any of his family take the stand.

Now he just had to make sure Tai didn’t screw the pooch instead.

“Just be careful with that little tidbit. If the press gets a whiff of it, they’ll be all over you.” He warned.

If anything, Tai seemed insulted. “I’m not afraid of some headliners. I can handle it.”

“Can the girls?” The statement drew the omega up short. Qrow felt bad, playing that card, but it wasn’t like reporters had a moral compass. “Just being realistic. This case isn’t exactly coasting quietly under the table, and the last thing I want is my family being dragged into it all ‘cause of my mistakes.”

“They’re not mistakes.”

“Renegade behavior then.”

“You-!” Tai sighed, running a hand down his face frustratedly. “Stop that. You’re not a joke, you know?”

It was Qrow’s turn to draw up short, heart catching in his throat.

Tai barreled on, unconcerned with his organ transplant. “I’m proud of what you do. More than that, I believe in what you do. You make a difference, every day, even if it seems small. You wouldn’t have risked so much, if you didn’t think that yourself. So will you please try to trust in that, so you can tell those judges where to shove it?”

Still stuck in limbo, his heart pressed insistently against his voice box, willing him to say those accursed three words that desperately wanted to burst out. Instead, all he managed was a wheeze of laughter, and a quiet, “I will.”

“Good.” Satisfied, Tai got to his feet. “I’m going to go get the girls, okay?”

“Okay.” He watched him head for the door, calling just as he opened it. “And Tai?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.”

For supporting me.

For being here with me.

For always knowing just what I need to hear.

He couldn’t decide on what was most important to say, so it all got stuck just like before.

Tai smiled like he’d heard them all regardless. “Anytime.”

~

“Are you ready, my boy?”

Qrow looked away from the airship window, where the Amity Tower was looming, to Pietro’s kind smile. It did little to calm the storm in his stomach. “Pretty sure no one’s ever ‘ready’ for this. My whole life’s about to be decided by a bunch of rich assholes who’ve probably never used the word ‘struggle’ in their lives.”

“Then I suppose it’s up to you to define it for them.”

He scoffed, falling back against the glass. “Hate to tell you this wheels, but English was my worst class.”

That at least earned him a hearty laugh. “You know there’s a saying among us lawyers: You don’t cry until it’s all over. So for now, keep your chin up and fight hard.”

Would be an easier fight if it didn’t feel like he was armed with only a pocketknife going against a trove of machine guns. Still, he couldn’t deny the weight of that sentiment. Especially knowing there was so much more to this fight than just what would happen to him.

Momentarily, as he shut his eyes, he could see Ruby. Coming home with tears streaming down her face after being told she wasn’t good enough to play baseball like the other kids. What if her fears were realized and she did present omega? What if she didn’t and, beyond all expectation, Yang did instead? What if one day, someone decided to throw either one of them into a reformatory and he wasn’t there to overwrite the wrongs?

The idea made him sick inside.

He rose up, facing Pietro once more. “Alright then, let’s do this.”

“That’s the spirit!”

Qrow tried to hold onto that feeling of confidence as long as he could as he continued to watch Amity Tower draw near. Like a beacon welcoming travelers to its side, the building stood alone on the seaside of the most northern part of Sanus. It wasn’t really a tower – it was more akin to a concert hall in size and shape. But it got its name from the spire that shot up in the middle of the roof. The decorative piece was meant to mimic the communication towers that each kingdom built to allow for scroll communication across the nations. A display that proclaimed this place would always be a venue in which the kingdoms could speak freely to one another.

As they began their descent towards the airstrip, he finally noticed the crowd. Circling Amity like a school of sharks were dozens upon dozens of people. They were spilling out along the grand front steps and thickly congested across the massive lawn area to the point barely a patch of green could be seen.

“What in all realms is going on?” Qrow breathed. He’d expected a few news reporters, sure. But nothing like this.

Before he could answer, Pietro’s scroll began to ring. He was quick to answer it. “Ah Rhodes, got here safely then? How are the witnesses doing?”

“Everyone is settled and prepared.” He replied assuredly. “Heard you guys were touching down, so I figured I’d warn you about the protest group.”

“Group?” Qrow echoed. “That’s an army. What are they even protesting?”

“Your arrest.”

His head snapped around; eyes wide.

Rhodes continued, unaware, “They’re all omegas or omega supporters from every nation in Remnant. They’ve been gathering here for days.”

“Incredible.” Pietro declared, adjusting his spectacles. “In all my years, I’ve never seen something quite like this.”

The rest of the conversation faded to background noise as he turned back towards the window, something unexplainable but good lifting him. Somewhere inside of him, he knew they weren’t really here for him, but what he represented. He was a loose cog in the machine, a shift from the system, a shield against the onslaught of endless ammo. Or, as Clover had jokingly coined, their harbinger of change.

Yet it didn’t stop him from feeling overwhelmed with support as the doors to the airship opened and the roar of cheers started up. It was a massive, thunderous noise that shook him to his very core then solidified there like an unbreakable diamond, giving him strength he hadn’t had just minutes ago.

Even as he was led out in cuffs, barred between two officers, he found himself walking tall. Like land making way for a river, the crowd parted for them. Some were carrying signs that said things like ‘Justice for Qrow’ and ‘Branwen can win’. There was even a really ridiculous one that said ‘Uncage our bird!’, complete with an illustration of a crow in a birdcage.

They made him smile, as did the few encouragements that he managed to pick out from rumble of hollers trying to reach him.

“You got this!”

“We’re here with you!”

“Your story’s not over yet!”

He carried it all the way up the stairs and through the entrance. Yet, as the large ornate double doors swung closed behind him, it muffled most of the noise.

Silenced once more.