#ME? doing a BACKGROUND????? unheard of !!!!!!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ozzgin · 2 months

Note

Hii I was wondering if u could do a yandere Kazuya x yn x yandere Daitou I’m not sure if u do character x yn x character tho

Yandere! Yakuza x Reader Spinoff

Two yakuza men who have fallen in love with their new foreign tenant. A what-if spinoff to the original story for that love triangle spice. Happy Valentine's Day!

Content: female reader, NSFW, organized crime, obsessive behavior, violence, BDSM themes (choking), threats

Credits: My boyfriend for giving me the Daitou smut idea

[Main Story] [General Headcanons]

Kazuya is sitting on the sidewalk, checking his watch occasionally and tapping his foot. The cigarette seems to have been forgotten, hanging lowly from his lips.

"Sorry I'm late." Daitou speedily makes his way towards his friend, smiling awkwardly.

"Where the fuck were you, man? We don't know how much time we have before the cops arrive."

"Uh uh, leave it to me." The cheeky grin doesn't leave his face as he pulls out his gun and carefully but swiftly inspects the barrel and safety one final time. "(Y/N) needed some help with the mailbox. I couldn't just say no, ya know?"

The blonde man's eyebrows raise for a second, but he quickly recollects himself.

"I see. That's good."

"She asked me to show her the area tomorrow, so I'll be working extra hard tonight. Hehe."

"That's good."

Daitou glances at Kazuya, somewhat wary.

"You okay?"

Stupid question. What's he supposed to answer? Yeah, he loves waiting like a dumbass while his friend flirts with the new tenant, who conveniently happens to be a cute foreigner, who's been unexpectedly nice and relaxed around them despite them explicitly stating they're part of the Japanese mafia. Fucking hell. It doesn't help that this idiot is as obvious as a blaring, blinding cluster of ads smack in the middle of Kabukicho. He can tell from miles away that Daitou's completely fallen for her. Just like that, in an instant.

They've been partners and best friends for years now, so the natural reaction would be happiness, right? Daitou has always been one scary motherfucker. Even the seniors scramble when he's in the room, let alone women. For him to find someone that isn't bothered the slightest by his appearance or background should be a celebratory occasion. Kazuya should be rooting for him. Except, well, he fell for you just as hard. Tough luck.

The Bushido moral code, often used as guidance within their own lifestyle, covers matters such as loyalty and honesty quite extensively. A true warrior remains fiercely faithful to his master or companions. And yet, love interests are more of a grey area, especially if they happen to overlap. Who dictates the proper etiquette for this dilemma? To whom is loyalty directed towards? Truth be told, Kazuya couldn’t care less. He’s always been a man of vice, impulsive and greedy. If he wants something, he takes it.

The trouble starts when the other person is of the same mindset. Two ferocious predators eyeing the same victim.

***

You fiddle next to the tall, dark-haired man. Similarly, Daitou is avoiding eye contact, looking around in hopes of finding something to focus on. It’s the first time he’s come over since the incident. After his little mission with Kazuya, he was tasked to “interrogate” some of the remaining members to get even more names for the hitlist. He’d completely forgotten about his promise to show you the neighborhood. Hands sticky with blood, he was in the middle of his signature act of benevolence, putting the lad out of his misery.

It was around that time you decided to be the one picking him up instead, for your grand tour. Your knocks on the door remained unheard, however, so you decided to politely make your way in.

“Sorry, I hope I’m not-”

You froze in place. A man (you assumed at least based on the few visible traits left), tied up on the chair, canvas bag roped around his head. Daitou’s hands were secured around his throat. In the few seconds of silence, you could hear a muffled wheezing, as the stranger’s chest heaved in short convulsions.

“-intruding.” You mumbled, regaining your speech.

He messed up, didn’t he? Daitou sighs and slicks his hair back. He can’t blame you if you’re now terrified of him. He had to come over for some tenant checkups and you’ve been maintaining a safe distance from him during his entire visit. What can he possibly tell you? “Hey, I know I threatened to chop you up and you’ve now witnessed firsthand I’m a legit murderer, but, uh…I have a crush on you? Dinner at seven?”

You’re terrified alright, but not of his deeds. Rather, your newly discovered perversion as a consequence of the gory scene. It’s not that you relished in the torment of another. It’s the other details that left you reminiscing. Daitou’s imposing frame, the unbuttoned shirt revealing his traditional tattoos glistening in beads of sweat, his flexed, brawny arms, and large hands. You’re scared of your shamelessness. It can’t be normal. Yet you can’t stop thinking about it. Just a glimpse into this memory and your cheeks become burning red.

“I’ll be on my way then”, the yakuza announces politely.

Though he immediately stops in his tracks, and you realize you’ve unconsciously grabbed onto his sleeve. Uh oh. What now? You mumble an apology without releasing your hold. Being this close to him makes your heart drum inside your chest.

To hell with it.

“I might say something terribly inappropriate right now, but…”

“Sorry?” He stares at you, dumbfounded.

“Do you have anything planned after this?” You ask quietly.

“N-no?”

“Would you mind staying over?”

“Huh? Sure…w-what for?” His mouth is dry, and he searches your eyes in confusion.

“You know…” Choke me until I pass out and such, you think to yourself sarcastically.

He turns to face you, lips pursed awkwardly.

“You’ll have to be clear with me, Miss (Y/N). I’m not good with all this tiptoeing around and I might get the wrong idea.”

Your ears perk up hearing his final words, a deep blush now spreading over your flustered features.

“What wrong idea?”

Daitou fidgets with his glass prosthetic nervously.

“Well, uh, a man can only dream, ya know? Especially around a cute girl like you.” He reveals with a stutter.

“Suppose I’d be willing to go along with anything on your mind. What then?” You twirl your hair, gazing shyly at the floor. Not even you can believe the audacity leaving your lips.

The tall man steps before you, towering above with a certain gleam in his eye. It’s yearning. Your knees weaken.

“Don’t tease me, please. I can hardly control myself around you as it is.”

You release his sleeve and instead cling onto his shirt with both hands, looking up through your lashes.

“I’m dead serious.”

He ponders his next move with a click of the tongue, then cups your cheeks between his hands and lowers himself until his hot breath tickles your nose.

“Are you? There’s no going back after this. Can you handle it?” His voice is suddenly deeper, raspier.

Before you can respond, you feel yourself lifted and you yelp, surprised, instinctively wrapping your limbs around the yakuza. In between the greedy kisses that leave your lips bruised and swollen, you don’t notice the movement back towards the seating area.

As you pull away to gasp for air, he throws you onto the couch, flipping you over in the process so that you’re kneeling away from him. Your nails dig into the soft fabric of the sofa. You hear Daitou unbuckle his belt and you squeeze your legs together, heavily aroused. He presses his palm gently into your back, arching it. You sense his fingers grazing over your core and you whimper.

“G-go on, please.” You beg, swaying your hips tentatively. “I really can’t wait anymore.”

“As you wish, Miss.” He reassures you with a grin.

He adjusts himself and carefully makes his way in. You don’t have time to enjoy the feeling; following almost instantly is his belt looped around your neck, tightening under his grip as he pulls the ends towards him. Your head is forced back, and you groan. You can hear the leather stretch and creak over your assaulted skin, the constriction briefly cutting your oxygen intake. Hot drool trickles down your chin and your eyes almost roll back in pleasure.

“Look at my little Miss (Y/N), taking it like a champion.” He bends over and bites your earlobe playfully. “Does that mean I can be as rough as I want?”

You nod erratically.

The grip around your throat intensifies and your vision becomes blurry.

“Hey, don’t pass out now.” He inserts two fingers in your mouth, pulling you by the cheek and tilting your head to look him in the eye. “Not before you show me that you understand your situation. You’re mine. Is that clear?”

He drags his fingers downwards, aiding your response as you struggle to contract your muscles.

“Attagirl.” He concludes, satisfied.

In the morning you wake up with a dreadful soreness, and you can quickly see why. Your body is peppered in bruises. Daitou is smoking by the window and promptly flicks his cigarette out once he realizes you’re no longer asleep.

“Are you okay? I’m so sorry, I don’t know what’s gotten into me.” He begins, remorseful, and squats in front of the bed. “I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“I will need a day or two to recover before the next time, but otherwise I’m fine.”

He beams with delight upon registering your words: next time. You can’t help but snicker at his childish enthusiasm. It’s a mystery how Daitou can switch between ruthless killer and cute partner with such ease.

Although it’s no secret, really. It’s you.

***

“Thanks for driving me home, Kazuya.”

You smile and unbuckle your seatbelt, reaching for the door handle. Daitou has been busy with work for the past days, so Kazuya took his place in looking after your needs.

“Huh?” You rattle the grab handle one more time to make sure. “It’s still locked.”

The blonde raps the wheel impatiently with his fingers. Is he to silently accept his loss? Does it even count as a loss when he hasn’t even had the chance to present his piece? Daitou has been quiet about it, but he can read that bastard like an open book. Something definitely happened between the two of you and the mere thought drives him insane.

Ah, this is so unlike him. There are few things he cares about. His pride, his Family’s honor, his freedom. Women aren’t exactly on that list, yet somehow, you’ve snuck your way to the very top of priorities and he’s realizing it just now. It’s becoming harder to ignore his maddening urge to have you. Out of all the things…He’d give Daitou the world. But not you. He can’t. He can’t.

“Kazuya? Are you listening? You forgot to unlock the door.”

“Say, (Y/N) …ever fucked in a car before?”

“What?” You ask, baffled.

“Come here for a moment.” He swiftly slides his seat all the way back and pats his thigh.

“Are you out of your mind?”

He answers your inquiry by pulling out his handgun and lazily pointing it towards you.

“I’m only going to ask once.”

You clumsily climb over the center console, straddling the yakuza with a slight pout.

“Someone’s in a sour mood, that’s for sure”, you complain. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Even I’m not crazy enough to risk shooting my Princess.” He smiles apologetically, throwing the gun on the backseat. “I thought it’d be more threatening that way.”

He removes a strand of hair from your face, gazing at you intently. His hand lingers for a second, before sliding its way down, tracing the side of your body. You shiver.

“Can you truly blame me when there’s such a pretty girl right before my eyes?” The blonde exhales and focuses on your shirt instead. “Won’t you let me prove myself?”

From this distance, despite the dim lights, you can discern his features in agonizing detail. His long lashes, his fleshy lips, currently parted, the luscious locks of hair casually thrown back. Kazuya has always been effortlessly handsome. It’s not just his good looks, but his overflowing charisma. He always knows exactly what to say and do. A devilish power to have over people, and you’re presently his victim.

His slender fingers play with your first button and cheekily undo it. You can only observe it, entranced. Your legs are weak, and your arms are stuck in place, resting limply over his broad shoulders.

“May I?” He glances up at you with a pleading expression. “I won’t be able to hold back afterwards.”

You bite your lower lip, distracted. Whether or not this is a wise choice, you can’t currently tell. You squirm in his lap and suddenly feel the pressure coming from below.

“Go ahead.” You finally confess.

He doesn’t hesitate and slithers his hand underneath your shirt, popping the rest of the buttons open. Like a hungry animal that has stumbled upon a feast, he sinks his teeth into your neck, leaving mean, wet kisses on his way down.

One hand is greedily kneading your curves, encouraged by your soft whimpers, while the other strokes your thigh in anticipation. With a bit of readjustment, he finds the right spot between your trembling legs. You jolt at the sensation of his cold fingers.

“My, you’re already dripping. How lewd.” He whispers between breaths. “Do you want it now?”

He nonchalantly slips out and undoes his own pants. You lift yourself expectantly and let a moan escape your lips upon feeling the erection throbbing right below.

“Well then, can’t forget our manners, can we?” He announces, visibly excited. “What should I do?”

You glare at him, feverish.

“Stop teasing me.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Tell me what to do and I will do it, Love.”

Why, this…You lower yourself to his ear and answer in a lulled whine.

“Isn’t it obvious? I want you to fuck me.”

Words enough to send the blonde man over the edge. He abruptly clutches your thighs for support, easing himself in before continuing with increasingly aggressive thrusts. Husky whimpers roll out of his mouth, desperate and starved.

“Oh, I’ve waited so long for this. My darling, perfect little (Y/N).” He presses his forehead into your chest, indulging in the moment. “Now say that you’re mine. Please. Please say it.”

“I’m…ah…I’m all yours, Kazuya.” You manage to blurt out, growing dizzy.

“That’s my girl. Such a good girl.”

Once the deed is finished, you flop your head over his chest, trying to catch your breath. Kazuya smoothens your clothes meticulously, holding you with one arm for support. Can’t leave a lady all disheveled, after all.

“Won’t Daitou be upset?” You point out, somewhat anxiously.

His muscles are tense for a second and he furrows his brows.

“That’s one strange way to thank me for making you come at least twice. Mentioning another man’s name.”

“I’m just…” your words trail off.

“What? Worried? You think I can’t handle it or something?”

Far from the truth. Both Kazuya and Daitou are violent, dangerous men. Given their stubbornness, you’re rather certain they’d end up killing each other. Not your favorite outcome.

“I don’t want either of you to get hurt.”

He sighs loudly.

“I’ll tell you what. Under normal circumstances, I’d probably dismember whoever had the guts to even entertain the idea of meddling with you. But…just because it’s Daitou, I might be willing to share. Nothing more than that.”

Kazuya ruffles your hair and chuckles.

“Aren’t you glad I’m such a diplomat, Love?”

“More like batshit crazy, both of you.” You retort, stretching.

1K notes · View notes

hedgehog-moss · 1 year

Text

Update on the French protests: we've had a well-known expert in contemporary political history call the situation we're in "the worst democracy crisis France has known since [the end of the 4th Republic]" and meanwhile the government is trying its hardest to maintain a façade of normal functioning by a) hiding from protesters, b) hiding protesters from view, and c) banning saucepans and other means of drawing attention to the protests that are being swept under the rug.

I mean casserolades are an old tradition in this country but they wouldn't have been needed if Macron &co hadn't started almost systematically banning protests in entire districts of the towns they visit and setting up police roadblocks to prevent peaceful protesters from going anywhere near them. (Too bad because these are the kinds of images the media get (these 2 are from Le Monde) when protesters get to talk to Macron <3) :

Protesters corralled away where they can be easily ignored started banging pots and pans so the protest could at least be heard in the background of TV footage, and then pans started being confiscated.

French courts have repeatedly struck down the bans as illegal but police prefects keep churning new bans out every time Macron goes somewhere anyway, trying to publish them at the last minute so there's no time for a judicial review. (I saw a sign at a protest last week that went "Stop with all the bans we no longer have time to disobey all of them")

After boldly banning saucepans by calling them "portable sonorous devices" last week, today a police prefecture banned "festive gatherings of a musical nature" in a town Macron will be visiting tomorrow. They're (ab)using counter-terrorist legislation for all this, so these days we get to read unheard-of court rulings that go like "We are suspending this prefectural decree as we do not consider festive gatherings of a musical nature to pose a significant terrorist threat to the President."

If Macron had people showing up in support I don't think we would see so many pissy protest bans because then the media could show backers vs. opponents and things would look normal (and not like 70% of the country is very pissed off with Macron). But there's not much for them to show if they don't show the angry people banging pans and it clearly rankles Macron—we learnt yesterday that he sent a letter to 200,000 political supporters of his essentially ordering them to start making appearances all over the country, to show they are "proud of what you are and of what our country has become [since I got elected]." That seems a bit desperate.

For months Macron &co have been predicting that people would get tired of taking to the streets in large numbers, and now that people are going like—right, let's try a new strategy, small local protests greeting gov members everywhere they go!—we're hearing a clear "no not like that, that's not what we meant :l " reaction from the government.

They've also been trying the strategy of announcing stuff at the last minute, like on Monday the Minister of Education announced at noon that he would visit a higher learning institution in Lyon 2 hours later, and a hundred of protesters still showed up and tried to force their way into the building. They were held off by cops using tear gas and trying to block entrances (there's a pic that made me smile, showing cops trying to barricade university gates with garbage bins—how the tables have turned...!) and the Minister ended up not showing up and moving on to the next step of his schedule (protesters tried to follow him there but police vans were blocking the street.)

The first half of the video is at the uni in Lyon; the second half is in Paris later that day. When he returned to Paris the Minister was greeted by protesters with saucepans at the train station, it's like a national relay race of protesting at times. He had to go back through the train to leave via the other end of the platform under police escort so as not to meet any protesters (god forbid).

Macron commented that this was "uncivic" behaviour and I agree, civic behaviour on the part of gov members would be to at least face the people they choose to fuck over, instead of hiding behind cops and fleeing. Obviously Macron was condemning the 'uncivic' protesters though, and the Minister said he felt "physically threatened" by the "violence of [the protesters'] speech" which is a shit thing to say considering on the same day that he was mildly inconvenienced by having to take a different exit and felt physically endangered by words, yet another protester was mutilated after being shot at by police with a rubber bullet. Not a peep about this incident (or previous ones) from the government. The Minister of Education never even condemned that time high schoolers trying to protest got tear gassed and threatened with riot guns by cops in front of their school earlier this month.

But while people continue protesting despite the actual violence from cops, our ministers are looking pretty scared of citizens banging pots and pans. Here's a list of official visits that got cancelled "for safety reasons" (saucepan terrorism) in the past week:

1. Minister P. NDiaye cancelled a visit in Lyon 2. Minister F. Braun cancelled a visit to Evrard Hospital 3. Minister Delegate O. Klein cancelled a visit in Bobigny 4. Minister Delegate O. Grégoire cancelled a visit in La Baule 5. Minister S. Guerini cancelled a visit in Castelnau 6. Secretary of State B. Couillard cancelled a visit in Rochefort 7. Minister S. Retailleau cancelled a visit to the Paris Saclay University (electricity trade unionists cut the power in the building she was supposed to inaugurate, so) 8. Minister C. Grandjean cancelled a visit in Toulouse (this article says it was probably because the visit was quite near a big highway protest where protesters among other things were building a concrete wall on a national road)

In the same bullshitting vein as "portable sonorous devices", gov spokespeople have been insisting that visits aren't being cancelled, ministers are just "adjusting the course of their trips" which is funny to me. I guess we never beheaded any royalty we just adjusted the course of their necks. I also read a newspaper article that made me laugh, that went like "Minister cancels visit; trade unions disappointed" and I thought it was because the cancelled visit was a meeting with the unions which they wouldn't get to have, but the article said it was actually because they had a good protest planned and wouldn't get to hold it...

Watching protesters mess with the government in small ways on a daily basis has been good for morale—on Twitter the hashtags #IntervillesMacron and #IntervillesduZbeul popped up (zbeul = chaos, mess, and Intervilles was a TV game show that aired for over 50 years, where French cities competed against one another in goofy challenges). I only mentioned cancellations above, but fun things also happen on non-cancelled government visits, like a Minister having to leave a building via the emergency exit because of protesters blocking the building entrance (which some people argued is worth more points than a cancellation as it's more entertaining):

Various websites were created to keep track of all these smaller protests and to officialise the point system that ranks cities on their efforts to fuck with the government:

(the first symbol means a protest, the second means a casserolade, the last one means protesters managed to get inside a building where a visit was taking place)

(Translation: Ruckus (saucepans, heckling...) 1pt Protest: 1pt Creative action (chasing minister in the woods, etc): 2pts Measures of energy conservation (= power cuts by unions) 3pts Action that leads to a political figure fleeing: 4pts Cancellation of a visit: 5pts — then there's a weighting system where the score is multiplied by 3 if it's a Minister, by 5 if it's the Prime Minister, by 6 if it's Macron.) (I also saw an interesting debate on Twitter this week—since our leaders often embarrass themselves, how should the government's own goals fit into the point system?)

Right now the Hérault department is winning because on top of protests, power cuts and casserolades, protesters greeted Macron with a giant "MACRON FUCK OFF" sign hung from a cliff (!) and took over a highway display so it'd say "Welcome to [region] Butthole Ist"

These past few days I've been discovering unknown French cities (and Ministers) thanks to them showing up in the hashtag after a good protest. I discovered a mediaeval castle I'd never heard of when unions hung banners featuring our most famous revolutionary dates from the castle's battlements. (Two days later, another protest with eloquent banners in the Musée d'Orsay in Paris:)

People are very creative—last week we heard that protesters got prosecuted for giving Macron the finger and insulting him during one of his official visits (< we are a healthy democracy), so protesters in another region tried a more sarcastic approach, and greeted a deputy from Macron's party at a strawberry fair this week with clapping and confetti and "Thank you for making us work 2 more years, thank you for police repression, thank you!" The deputy beat a hasty retreat. Then said he would file a complaint against the harassment and intimidation he had been subjected to. (The tear gas and riot guns and arrests and protest bans are not intimidation of protesters on the other hand. Or the fact that another deputy from his party recently said on TV that they were "ready for war"... They're ready to wage war, but run and hide when people clang saucepans and throw confetti.)

Anyway. I'm enjoying the fact that they can't even attend a small strawberry fair without getting heckled right now. In one of my first posts about the political crisis in March I wrote something like "How will Macron and his gov have any legitimacy to speak about any issues after this?" and it cheers me up to see a lot of people across the country agree that they have no legitimacy to talk about anything, not even the strawberry harvest.

The next nationwide protest is of course for May 1st, but in the meantime it's been really fun following the smaller protest actions all over the place. Members of government & Macron's party keep making whiny statements along the lines of this is terrorist behaviour, we can't go anywhere, why are people not getting tired of fucking with us and the answer is, because it's really entertaining!

This was the last sentence of a recent Le Monde article about Macron's situation and it has such a sinister, end-of-reign tone:

"I'm moving forward," Macron concluded, on April 20th in the Herault department, while behind his back echoed the sound of saucepans.

#frpol #well this is another very long post and it features maybe 40% of all the shit from the past week #like there was another popular hashtag last week that went ''no retraction [of the reform] no olympic games''#and the police prefect of Paris said ''the closer we get to the Olympics the more we will saturate public space with police''#okay! good atmosphere so far

5K notes · View notes

hippiepowrs · 2 months

Text

he's a goner

eddie munson x gn!best friend!reader

a/n: this is the first fic i'm ever posting on here i'm so nervous plz don't eat me guys

warnings: pining. yearning. longing, if you will. just eddie being totally whipped. swearing. weed use/vague descriptions of being high. d&d terminology. one line from gareth. no use of y/n or reader's pronouns. eddie's pov.

wc: 571

Eddie’s in way too fucking deep.

Maybe this is salvageable?

No, he’s a goner.

It’s not like this is a scene he hasn’t watched before–his best friend laughing, giggling, and smoking with the rest of the older Hellfire boys–hell, it happens every week. But there’s a certain point where the high starts to hit him just right, and he can’t help himself from staring at you. Despite his typical loudness, the usual brash and joking demeanor that overtakes him, he just sits in his chair, quieter than ever. It’s not unheard of for him to get quiet, so nobody thinks anything of it.

You’re the prettiest person to ever exist, he thinks. He finds himself thinking that a lot. The way one corner of your mouth lifts a little more than the other when you smile, the way your eyes crinkle, the way you sparkle as you giggle; he loves it all. He loves the way you look when you blow smoke through your lips. He’s never been more honored to roll in his life. He’d buy all the weed in Indiana if it meant he got to watch you smoke it.

Eddie often finds himself wanting to write about you or draw you, but he’s nervous he won’t capture you correctly. You’re the kind of beauty that only the Greeks could capture. He wishes he could sculpt like them, just to be able to sculpt you.

A nudge to his arm breaks him out of his trance. He sees you smiling up at him from the floor. It’s a sight he hopes he’ll get to see for the rest of time.

“Ed,” You say, voice soft and a little tired, “Can you back me up here? Can you please tell these nerds that fighter isn’t the best class?”

“What?” He mumbles, still out of it. “Guys, literally any class is as good as you make it. Except monks.”

“Fuck off.” Gareth responds, throwing a handful of chips in his mouth.

Eddie zones back out after that. Whatever B-horror movie Jeff brought continues to drone on in the background as you and the guys continue to argue, but he can’t be bothered to listen to any of the words he hears. By the time he zones back in, the guys are standing up and brushing themselves off, clearly ready to leave. They say their goodbyes and Eddie waves them off, leaving him alone with you.

“Is it cool if I sleep over tonight?” Your voice is his favorite thing to hear. Even better than Hetfield or Dio.

“‘Course.” He says, voice more grumbly than he expected. “You know you’re always welcome to.”

He watches you stand up, watches the way your shirt rides up as you stretch, admires the sleepiness in your eyes. He wants you in his bed, next to him, he wants to wake up to your face in the morning. He wants the smell of your shampoo to overwhelm him. He wants to kiss you, soft and sweet.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” He mumbles under his breath, running a hand over his face before standing back up. Your footsteps are already trailing down the hall to his room, and he quickly follows. You’re halfway through throwing one of his shirts on, which you do every time you sleep over. He’ll never get tired of the way his worn-out shirts hang off your body. He’ll never get tired of you.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x gn!reader #stranger things x reader #first fic #this is so nerve wracking guys please #eddie munson x best friend reader

251 notes · View notes

tw1l1te · 12 days

Text

Alternate Hero/Guide Rant

So I've been thinking lately of parallel universes and the question "what if this was changed", yada yada, and I thought of something having to do with our guide.

What if, in an alternate era/timeline they took the place of Link?

Like the Chain still has their normal dynamics, same meeting, etc., but in swoops the reader (the heroine/false hero?) and they are unlike any link/hero in the timeline.

Some background for their Hyrule might be that their entire Hyrule is in ruins, like completely. Think Totk but 100 times more destroyed. Yeah. Essentially, their Link mysteriously disappeared, monarchy was left in utter chaos and the country essentially destroyed itself. I think your backstory would take place 5000-10,000 years after Wild's, so you would be the most latest "Link".

One of the main deviations between yourself and the Chain is that you didn't fight Ganon/Ganondorf/Demise; you fought Hylia in the flesh.

In terms of triforce? You don't have any pieces because your Link gained them all and left shortly after that. Conspiracies say it had a more sinister motive, but you have a different idea of what happened.

Zelda was killed around the same time Link disappeared, essentially destroying whatever foundation of Hyrule was left. The different nations of Hyrule had a 50-year war and eventually, everything was so destroyed that everyone went into isolation, closing off from each other.

A religiously-motivated eruption of chaos occurs, spurring your quest to eliminate Hylia and her existence. Despite not having any relation to the royal family, Link, or Hylia's prophecy, you have the memories of each hero, which is unheard of with the Chain. Only Zelda's have previous memories, meaning you're some weird anomaly.

A bunch of shit happens, whatever, boom you're in Wild's Hyrule. THe Chain notices you almost instantly, mostly cuz you're wearing hero's garb, but none of theirs, meaning... you're a Link. Or so they originally thought.

That's all for now.

Let me know if y'all would like to see a full fleshed-out fic of this! :3

#linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe x reader #yandere linked universe #linked universe au #final promise au #linked universe headcanons #lu sky #lu legend #lu time #lu twilight #lu warriors #lu hyrule #lu four #lu wind #linked universe #lu wild

156 notes · View notes

thebestofoneshots · 3 months

Text

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 10.7 K Warnings: None Prompt: Some of Peter's ideas have very convenient fundamentals... This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 33: More Than a Feeling

November 30th, 1976

You knocked on the door before you entered the class. Seraphina was standing beside her desk and nodded to let you in. You smiled and went straight to sit next to Remus. He had carried your bag and placed it on the seat next to his, to save a space for you. You smiled when you saw him and thanked him silently as Seraphina continued to talk.

She was going on about dark magic and how bIood is often involved in rituals of its kind “As you know, every living being has magic cursing through their system. But it’s not quite that it emanates from them but rather that you have the capacity to store it. Muggles don't have such an ability, which is why they cannot wield magic like we do. Some people can use this magic more than others, and some can learn to improve their capacity to store and to use the magic around them for spells.”

“Is this a first-year class?” A Hufflepuff girl scoffed behind you.

“And while this seems like basic knowledge, it goes a lot deeper than that, Miss Anderson. Those who wield magic for many years, start developing changes in their system. From simple things like being able to do wandless magic by developing their skill to use their body and hands to cast spells, to more elaborate ones, where you alter your bIood, or even your very soul, for example.”

There were whispers in the background after she said those words. Students knew how dangerous dark magic could be. They knew it could taint a soul and corrupt the finest of wizards. But most of them also knew that sometimes there was no other choice than to use them in self-defence. Especially with the whispers of the war, it was not unheard of that some wizards had used the unforgivables against deatheaters.

“In this class, we have seen hexes and curses that could protect you, we’ve talked about courses and magical contracts. Binding bonds and spells, etc. We’ve faced against some dangerous creatures and defeated them. We’ve duelled each other,” she threw you a look “and had some unfortunate accidents, but those are to be expected.”

She sighed, “Today we’ll be talking about an interesting but dangerous thing. BIood rituals. Anyone have any idea what I might be referring to?”

Lily raised her hand, “BIood rituals are the use of spells that require bIood, either a bIood sacrifice or just a few drops of someone’s bIood. They can be very dangerous and powerful, and if used to harm, they can even bind the person whose bIood has been used in the spell. They aren’t all dark magic, but they can be extremely dangerous.”

“Excellent, Miss Evans. 10 points for Gryffindor,” Seraphina said while Lily beamed. “Indeed, they can be extremely dangerous. But it isn’t dangerous all the time. In fact, some bIood magic is used in the simplest of things. For example on magical contracts.”

“Like the ones used in the past in the Triwizard Tournament,” Imogen said out loud.

“Indeed Miss Potts,” Seraphina said. “Your great-great-grandma was a participant, correct?”

“She won,” Imogen said proudly.

“That’s right, I apologise for my ignorance on the matter. But it is correct, to put their names in The Goblet of Fire the students had to give a drop of their bIood too, as a way to bind them, since once they were chosen there was no way out of the tournament.”

“An awful event if you ask me,” Lily whispered to Marlene, they were sitting right in front of you and Remus.

“I don’t know,” you said. “I think it was rather interesting, testing your magical skills against real but controlled threats, seems pretty cool to me.”

“Of course, you would say that,” Lily said as she shook her head.

“What? Why?” you asked with a small frown “I genuinely think that–”

“Because you tend to like dangerous things sweetheart,” Remus said as he gave you a look.

“Well that’s–”

“You play quidditch,” Marlene intervened, “And you are in the duelling club. You like danger, the adrenaline rush and all that.”

“You would love to be in the Triwizard tournament, wouldn’t you?” Lily added.

“Well I never said that but… I suppose I would try signing up for it.”

“There you go,” Lily said as she turned back around “It’s the kind of thing that would suck you in like nifflers drawn to shiny things.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t gotten in much more trouble so far,” Marlene added as she too turned around.

Remus chuckled and you threw him a look. “Or… she’s just really good at not getting caught.”

You scoffed, diverted at that and shoved him lightly. He just gave you a teasing smile in response. You’d realised Remus had gotten the habit of teasing you a lot more often the past few days. At least as much as you used to tease him.

After that, you turned back to look at Seraphina, who kept talking about contracts by bIood, secret keepers, the Fidelius Charm and other kinds of magical bonds. Remus on the other hand, hadn’t quite gone back to the class. His mind had gone off, thinking about Lily’s words, what they implied and what he eventually said: Because you tend to like dangerous things, sweetheart.

Is it possible that that is why she…

“…do you agree Mr. Lupin?” Seraphina asked startling Remus out of his thoughts.

He looked at her wide-eyed and turned his gaze to you, throwing you a pleading look. You bit your lip and grabbed your quill, scribbling something on your parchment as quickly as you could and moving it towards him as casually as possible.

Remus scanned over your paper, but you hadn’t exactly been very specific with it either. It only said “BIood Bonds Bad?”

Remus swallowed and turned back to Seraphina “Well, I think it’s not possible to have a certain yes or no opinion on the matter, it’s a matter of how you use them and for what. For example, if you’re using a bond to bind someone to you against their will, to make an imperious stronger or to curse their bIoodline then we can all agree they’re terrible. Dark wizard stuff even. But if you use bIood for a magical contract to make sure both parts will fulfil it, or to deepen your connection with someone or even to protect someone by sacrificing yourself, then the line becomes a lot more blurry.”

Seraphina seemed pleased by his answer and nodded “Brilliantly said, Mr. Lupin. That is indeed why we are taking this class, and why I consider it so important. I want you to pick a position, either for or against, and then you’re going to work in teams to form a debate in which you’ll go over the good and bad of using bIood magic.”

People started to split the classroom when Remus turned to you “Thanks,” he muttered.

You smiled and turned to him. “What’s got that pretty head of yours in the clouds, hm?” you asked. Not even realising you had casually called him pretty, perhaps the veritaserum wasn’t completely out of your system yet, prompting you to say a lot more than usual.

“I was thinking of someone.”

“Someone… And may I know who that was?”

“No.”

You pouted, “But I helped you.”

“Are you gonna charge in the favour?”

“No, but telling me would be the polite thing to do,” you said with a shrug.

He pulled his head to the side as he sucked in some air with a bit of a shrug. “You’re outta luck. I’m not feeling very polite today.”

You bit your lip at that, thinking of a clever retort when you felt two arms wrap around your waist from behind and pull you to the owner’s chest. You knew it was Sirius the moment you felt his hands on you, not because you were an expert on his hands, but because you could smell his cologne –or perhaps it was his shampoo or just him– the moment he stepped on your personal bubble.

He then dug his face into your neck, you saw Remus advert his gaze, and you could have considered it politeness but, there was something else, you frowned looking at Remus as your eyes narrowed, and then Sirius pressed his lips to your neck, on the exact same spot he had sucked a hickey the past week and the scarlet flags lurking on the sides of your mind were washed away in an instant. After all, you were probably just imagining things, right?

“Sirius, what are you…?” You asked and he pulled his head away from your neck and pecked your cheek, his movement had been so sudden that you were startled into silence.

“You looked so pretty from afar,” he admitted “don’t know why Moony insisted on sitting so far from me and James.”

“You were being loud, you would’ve brought us in and we would have lost more house points,” Remus responded simply. Of course, that wasn’t the reason. He was feeling a little more jealous than normal that day. Probably because you had gone and kissed Sirius on what he considered his time. On potions, you were his partner, not Sirius’.

Sirius pouted, his chin now resting on your shoulder as he looked at Moony. “So what are we, for or against?” he asked.

“Hm? We’re all gonna be on the same team?” you asked.

“Well duh, why do you think we’re here,” he said as he pointed at James and Peter.

“Well... I think against is too easy,” you said.

“What’s wrong with easy?” Peter asked.

“It’s boring,” Remus and you replied almost at the same time.

“Nerds,” Sirius said, chin still resting, you pushed your shoulder blades back to nudge him and he just smiled, “but the best nerds,” he added then.

You rolled your eyes. “So we’ll be for?” Lily asked, “I think it’s a great choice.”

“I agree,” James said a little too fast. Lily threw him a look and he just shrugged and gave her a wink.

“Well then for it is,” Marlene said. “This is our side of the classroom anyway, isn’t it?”

Lily nodded, and you all started to dig through your books to try and find arguments that would back you up on the debate. Learning a couple of interesting things about bIood magic with the books that Seraphina had borrowed, some of them from the restricted section. And while most things in those books were warnings about the ill use of this kind of magic, it did point out some of the uses they had for good.

The debate had gone quite fast. And while the other team had great points in their favour, in the end, all of you put up a great front against them. You thought it had been really fun, and Mary mentioned it was a very muggle way of teaching, and that she remembered having gone through a similar exercise at her elementary school before Hogwarts. Which had been rather interesting since according to your knowledge, Seraphina was a pureblood.

Saturday, December 4th, 1976

It had been a grueling day. Apparition had finally started to involve the physical act of apparating and it was exhausting. Professor Dumbledore had taken each student one by one on an apparition so that they got the feeling of it. Some of the students that had never done it before ended up puking all over the grass. Mary had excused herself to go to the infirmary to get headache pills. Lily had thrown herself into the grass and stared at the sky for several minutes while taking deep breaths.

Peter had to swallow his own puke, and this wasn’t the first time he’d ever apparated in his life. Remus had done quite well. He had appeared on the other side of the grass with a straight face and had walked over to you calmly.

“It wasn’t that bad,” he said as he approached you “I thought it’d be worse.”

You frowned at that, you didn’t remember your first time apparating, since it had been when you were a baby, but your mom would always tell the story that you cried and cried for hours after it. And then it took a small dose of calming draught to get you to sleep that night. The next time they did it, the result had been similar. Eventually, you got used to it. But by the reactions of the students that had never done it, you figured there was no possible way that it “wasn’t that bad” which is why there was only one answer to Remus’ reaction. He was used to a lot worse.

You almost wanted to hug him after it, but you knew he’d think it weird, and if he knew it was because you felt bad about his situation, he’d think you were pitying him. And Remus Lupin hated to be pitied. Even if it wasn’t pity what you felt, you just thought your friend was so brave, and he had gone through so much already. It's silly, you thought, but you still wanted to hug him.

Thankfully you were quickly distracted by Sirius who went next, coming back to you from the other side completely unaffected by it, exactly like James had. The latter boasting a little about how good he was, saying it had to do with how much quidditch he practised when, in reality, had a lot more to do with how many times Effy and Fleamont had apparated him.

When it was your turn you approached Professor Dumbledore calmly. He called you by your last name and extended his arm for you to hook yours onto. “I understand you have apparated before, have you not?” He asked calmly.

You nodded “Yes sir, my parents have been apparating me since I was very small.”

“Correct. Have you ever tried to do it on your own?”

You shook your head in response, and then frowned… “Well… there was one time in my previous school in which I attempted to do it with a friend. I was young and… well we splinched badly. She had the worst of it. I had to stay at the infirmary for almost 3 whole days. She stayed for the entire week. We got detention for it.”

Dumbledor raised an eyebrow at that, “And you haven’t tried again since?”

You shook your head. “We promised we would enrol in the class together, and then I moved… so suppose there wasn’t really a reason not to try again anymore but… I’ve been rather busy since I got here.”

“So I’ve heard,” he said with a nod, an almost imperceptible smile on his lips.

You gave him an awkward smile in return and he tilted his head as if asking if you were ready, to which you nodded. In no less than a second, he was apparating the two of you to the other side of the field.

Your stomach turned upside down when you were on the other side, not because of the apparition, but because of the memories brought along with it. One second you were in class, with your arm locked on Professor Dumbledore, the next you were in the forest, launched across Barty’s shoulder against your will.

The memories flooded your head without you having a say on it and the moment you landed on the other side you were tense, seething with anger, panic and helplessness. You blinked and tried to steady your breath, your eyes seeking something to anchor to, and you spotted Sirius, who was talking to James with a huge smile on his face.

Two people noticed your restlessness. First, it was Dumbledore, who had seen the scenes of the memory you had accidentally projected into his mind as he apparated the two of you. You had been studying occlumency the last few days and you had unwittingly transmitted all of it straight into him. He turned to you, noticing how much less relaxed your grip on his arm felt.

“Are you all right?” He asked calmly. You somehow managed to nod, your eyes still trying to focus on Sirius’ laugh instead of the memories that plagued your mind. But Dumbledore didn’t let go of you yet. “I would suggest you take the rest of the day off.”

“What?” You asked, focusing your eyes on the old teacher “I’m fine I–”

“You seem to have a lot on your mind…” He added with a courteous nod. You looked at him with eyes opened wide, breath hitching at your throat when you realised what you had done. “And you’ve also had a rough couple of days.”

You looked at him, a serious look on your face, as you focused on your thoughts, trying to conceal what had happened the rest of that night, and attempting to leave out details like the phase of the moon and when you saw Remus. It didn’t feel like Dumbledore was trying to pry further, but you still had to try.

“I’ll send a note to Silvanus excusing you from his class. You’ve been doing quite well on it regardless.”

“You don’t… Will you not ask what happened?” you asked as you turned to him, “Sir,” you added as an afterthought, trying to maintain your politeness.

Dumbledore cocked his head to the side, “If you wanted me to know, you would have come to me the day it happened and you wouldn’t be trying to conceal it. I trust in your judgement Miss (Y/LN). I’ve heard good things about you from more than one teacher.”

You swallowed. “Thank you,” you added with a courteous nod.

“Regardless, I do feel the need to tell you that if it ever happens again you shall come straight to me or to any other teacher to report it.”

“Of course, sir.” Frankly, you weren’t sure if you really meant that, but you said it regardless. He nodded one last time and allowed you to go.

The other person that noticed was way further from the two of you, he had also been talking to James when a familiar smell hit him. It was exactly the same way you smelled when you arrived at his door, barging it open with an iron poker in your hand. It was the smell of panic.

Remus turned to you in an instant, looking at the way you were desperately looking around the field until you focused on Sirius. He frowned, and then saw your entire interaction with Dumbledore, paying close attention and using his heightened senses to listen in to your conversation with the professor.

When you eventually walked back to your friends, you moved to stand in between him and Sirius. Neither James nor the other boy seemed to notice your discomfort, in fact, Remus wasn’t sure he would be able to acknowledge it if he hadn’t recognized the smell from that night. You had a cocky smile on your face and you were pretending to be as unaffected as Sirius and James had been. To anyone, you would look like you were perfectly fine, except for the haunting look in your eyes, perhaps. Remus wondered, if Sirius looked close enough, would he be able to notice too? As he stared at you laughing at some silly joke James had made about the weather, he started feeling the urge to hug you. Of course, he wouldn’t do it, he had no excuse, and you were dating Sirius, not that it was that hard to forget, you were almost always all over each other.

But he also knew that if he hugged you, you would know he noticed, and then you would think he was pitting you, and you hated to be pitied. But Remus did not pity you, no, he was absolutely stunned by how well you had played your feelings off, hiding them under your skin so skillfully that the only reason he noticed had been because he could still smell them.

Regardless, Remus Lupin didn’t hug you. He resisted the urge to place his hands around your face like he had done on the shack, or to bring you close to his chest like he had when he cuddled Vixen. He resisted because he knew you weren’t his to hug, but that didn’t stop him from inching closer to you. To stand so close it was almost ridiculous the way your shoulders would rub against his as you laughed, or pretended to laugh, or attempted to do it by drowning the memories with the sound of the other boys’ laughs. He wasn’t sure which of the three it was.

When the class was over, you told the boys you’d go make sure Lily and Mary were alright, that you would check on Mary at the infirmary with Mars after taking Lily to the room. James tried to offer himself for the job but Remus stopped him. He knew you were looking for a way out and into the comfortable silence of probably the common room or the library or somewhere.

Even if you were a lot more relaxed now, the smell lingered just a bit, like your emotions were threatening to get out. Remus wanted to go with you, to be there for you like you had been after all the moons since you met him. But he also understood the need for time alone and time to think, and there was something in your eyes that told him that that was exactly what you needed.

You waved the boys goodbye and walked alongside Marlene and Lily to the room. You both were holding the red-head, arms linked to each other as a way to help her keep balance.

“It feels like I’ve been on a boat for hours,” Lily complained.

You gave her a sympathetic look “I think I’ve got something for nausea on my cupboard,” you mentioned “Mom sent it over when she heard I fell off my broom.”

“But that… you didn’t fall because of nausea,” Marlene said with a frown.

“Yeah… I didn’t want to tell her I jumped off of it, to get the snitch,” you said with a grimace. Lily was looking between the two of you, trying to focus on the conversation as much as possible. But she was still dizzy.

Eventually, the three of you made it to the room, both you and Marlene helped Lily to the bed, and then shut the curtains to make her feel more comfortable. You were rummaging through your trunk, trying to find the potion when Marlene said she’d go check on Mary. In the end, you decided to split, Marlene would check on Mary while you stayed with Lily.

“You’re going to miss class,” Lily complained as you walked towards her with the potion finally in your hands. You gave her a look; as if she hadn’t missed a bunch of classes for you in the past week. She pouted in response “But who’s gonna give me their notes?”

You smiled as you sat on the bed and placed your hand on the back of her head and gently brought it forwards to make it easier for her to take the potion. “Remus will be in that class, we can get his notes.”

“With his handwriting?” Lily asked when she finished the potion.

You gave her a look “It’s not that bad!”

“When he charms it.”

“You’re exaggerating,” you told her as you passed a small candy to her, the nausea potion had always been a bit bitter.

She opened her mouth instead of taking it in her hands and you just placed it on the spot. “Is apparating always going to be this bad?” she asked you as she savoured the candy.

You shook your head “It gets better,” you promised “I’m sure you’ll be top of the class in no time.”

She almost snorted at that. “What are you planning to do?”

You shrugged in response, “Maybe I’ll read ahead,” you said, “or just some fiction.”

“I miss the telly,” she said with a pout. You smiled at that, while you did not have a television at home, you had encountered one on your walks through Muggle London and had been absolutely fascinated by it, the little screens showing moving pictures just like magical portraits but instead of having a defined person –or people– they had all sorts of stories on them. Including some of the movies you had seen in the cinema before.

“Want me to read you something?”

She gave you a look, and then extended her hand and passed a book over to you– a copy of “The Lord of the Rings”.

“Oh, I love these books!” You said with a smile.

“It’s my third time reading them actually,” she said “I read them before I came to Hogwarts and I always felt somehow connected to them,” She told you before she yawned. You smiled, realising the potion was already working its magic.

You flipped through the pages until you found her bookmarker. It was a small blue wildflower, already dry, you took it in your hands and eyed it carefully, Lily looked up at it sadly, “Sev gave it to me a while ago,” she said casually “I can’t bring myself to throw it away.”

You gave her a look and placed it back on the book, you didn’t exactly like Snape, and you knew why she was sad about it, but you also understood how hard it must have been for her, that her best friend changed so much that he turned against her. He had even called her a slur, a ridiculous word the pureblood assholes had invented, to say when they needed to feel superior.

Lily saw the way you carefully placed the flower near the back of the book and nodded as you started narrating from where she had left off. Frodo and Sam had just met Legolas when you heard some light snoring from the girl. You smiled and closed the book, taking a bookmarker of your own instead of using the flower again, that way when Lily opened the book, she wouldn’t have to think of Severus, even if the blue flower was still safely tucked in the back.

You gave the girl one last look, tucking in her bed sheets with a swish of your wand before walking back towards your own bed. You stayed there for a few minutes, taking your charms book and skimming through it before setting it on the side and taking an occlumency one instead. Nightshade had given it to you after you asked, and after the ridiculous way in which you had projected all your memories to Professor Dumbledore, you knew you had to continue studying it.

You looked at Lily one last time and decided a change of setting would be the best, especially since the low-lit space you had created for her comfort wasn’t helping the headache threatening to form as you continued attempting to read the book through squinted eyes. Besides, holding your wand up with Lumos had gotten annoying.

Exiting the room a few minutes later, you walked straight to the common room and plopped down on the sofa, your head towards the fire so you could properly read the pages. You had been so engrossed in the book, you didn’t hear the portrait open, and you certainly didn’t notice Sirius walking all the way towards you.

He looked at you as you read the book, moving his hands in the air to try and get your attention a couple of times, but when it proved to be useless, he decided to get your attention in a different way. He leaned closer to you and climbed on top of you, letting his head fall on your stomach as the rest of his body settled over yours. You moved the book to the side and gave him an incredulous look as he snuggled up against you.

“You’re heavy,” you said as you playfully attempted to push him off.

“Oh, so you only realise I’m here to try and kick me off?” he teased, looking up at you. “No hey Puppy how was class? Why do you look so tired? No, just ‘You’re heavy.’”

You giggled at his words, “How was class, Puppy?”

He hummed unsatisfied in response, easily hearing the sarcasm laced in your words “Awful. Kettleburn had us clean the pens of the Nifflers. They’re adorable until you have to clean things up and smell their stool.”

“And you’ve come to lay on top of me after that?” You asked as you tried to push him off again, but he just wrapped his arms around your torso tighter.

“Yes, because you smell nice,” he mumbled as he dug his head on the sweater you were wearing -Remus’ sweater-, “and James used a cleaning spell on me so don’t try to push me off again.”

“But you’re heavy,” you said with a small pout.

“Not true, you love it,” he said simply, refusing to move. You rolled your eyes but allowed him to stay. Even if Sirius was actually just slightly heavy, there was a part of you that enjoyed being cuddled by him like this a little too much. And whatever spell James had used was perfect, Sirius smelled like nothing but himself. A smell you already found intoxicating in and of itself. You sighed and took the book again. “Wait, really?”

“What?” You asked as you moved the book to the side to look at his face.

“Your gorgeous boyfriend is right on top of you, pretty much begging for a cuddle and you prefer reading… What is that?” he asked as he pulled the book from your hands to read the title “Occlumency?! Really? Is occlumency more interesting than me?” He added as he threw the book back, instead of falling straight on the floor, which you would have definitely reprimanded him for doing, it floated down towards one of the side tables in a gentle motion.

You stared at the book a little impressed, especially when you turned back to Sirius and realised his wand was tucked in the pocket of his pants. He was surprisingly good at wandless magic, that you knew, but it never failed to impress.

You turned to him with a small smirk as you leaned your hand towards his head “Sirius if you want my attention you just have to ask for it,” you said as you dug your hand into his hair.

He hummed again, closing his eyes peacefully as he felt your fingers run over his scalp, an action that reminded you a lot of how Padfoot –back when you thought he was Fang- had reacted to you petting him. You wondered if it was a dog thing or a Sirius thing. You saw him take a deep breath as he buried his head deeper into your stomach.

“I’ll pretend that isn’t weird,” you teased with a smile.

He turned to you with a reproachful gaze. “It helps the stool smell go away,” he said with a frown.

You just laughed, also being a canine made you understand the appeal of smells, especially his smell, but you were never as obvious about it, besides, there was nothing as fun as teasing Sirius… Which reminded you of that talk you’d had with Peter after the quidditch game. You reached for the nape of his neck and gently turned his head to look at you, you saw the way his nose brushed on your stomach and how the tip bent just a little as he turned your eyes to yours, “You know… the other day I was talking to Peter–”

Sirius winced “Don’t tell me it’s about one of his ridiculous ideas because–”

“Hey listen!” you told him as you smacked him lightly, “Peter is smart too.” Sirius only raised his eyebrows “Sometimes,” you added. “He’s good at Herbology and Care for Magical Creatures.”

“And your point?”

You rolled your eyes. “He said something and… I’ve been thinking about it for a while,” you had stopped scratching his scalp for a second and he nudged your hand by moving his head for you to get back to it, much like a dog would. You held back a laugh and continued, “he said that when their parents got him a kitten, they had to rub the kitten onto the cat to make him accept him.”

Sirius frowned, completely lost in the point you were trying to make. “Is this your way of trying to convince me to get a kitten? Because I don’t like them.”

You laughed. “No, I have enough pets with you lot being my friends.” He looked offended and leaned his head to give a soft, playful bite to your arm. You just smiled, biting your own lip. “Point proven.”

He scoffed and placed his head on top of the arm he had bitten as he looked at you straight in the eyes, you almost lost your train of thought as you stared at him, always fascinated by the fact that someone so beautiful would be looking at you, with such a gaze.

“So what’s with the cats then?” He asked, he was looking at you in a way that made your knees weak, and you were happy you were lying on a sofa rather than standing.

“Well, it’s a smell thing,” you said as you broke eye contact, focusing on your hands on his hair to try and speak properly. “Peter said it’s something about getting the kitten to have the smell of the pack so the larger cat wouldn’t attack him.” Sirius nodded. “He then mentioned that… Moony had honed in my smell. That even on the first moon of the year he had been restless, and had been really hard to deal with.”

“Yeah, he was a bitch,” Sirius said as he nodded “Kept wanting to go in the castle.”

“Mhm,” you agreed. “So Peter suggested that we do the same.”

Sirius arched his eyebrows at you as he passed his tongue over his lips, clearly amused at your suggestion. “Sweetheart, if what you wanted was to rub against me, you could have just said that,” he said with a small smirk and a suggestive look.

You scoffed and swatted him on the head, “Sirius focus! He said I could rub onto you or James.”

“No!” he said all too fast, a flash of jealousy in his eyes.

You giggled, “Well… technically he said Padfoot and Prongs. He offered himself too but said he was too small.”

“Ugh…Don’t put that image in my head!” He said with a frown. And then turned to you again “What about Remus? Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to rub on him?”

You nodded, “Yeah, but it doesn’t seem very clever to go rub onto Moony when he could just reach down and close his jaws around me, does it?”

Sirius frowned, “Not Moony, Remus.”

“You think that would work? You don’t smell the same as Pads.”

“Why, been smelling me much?” he teased.

You rolled your eyes, “Padfoot smells a lot more like a dog.”

“Are you suggesting I stink?”

“Your words, not mine.” He pinched your side with his hand and you laughed. Of course, you didn’t think he smelled bad, in fact, Vixen seemed to be just as drawn to that smell as you were by Sirius’.

“Anyway, Remus smells like Moony.”

“Been smelling him much?” you teased now.

He gave you a look, “I live with him you moron.” He omitted the fact that yes, he had, and that Remus had been clouding his thoughts for a while now.

You sighed, “Well, I suppose we could turn into Vixen and Pads and cuddle him then. You think he’d be up for it?”

He looked to the side as if thinking about it, “Well… If anyone can convince him, it’s us.”

You nodded in agreement. And then you remembered, “Talking about Remus…”

“Mhm?”

You sighed, “I’ve been invited to Slughorn’s Christmas Party.”

“Congratulations?” he said a little confused, “What’s that got to do with Moons?”

“He’s never been invited.” He hummed in response as if to get you to elaborate, you continued to brush your nails on his scalp, he could feel your nervousness in the way the patterns you made had gone a little faster. “I want him to go. He… seemed a little harsh when I suggested that he must have been invited many times because of how clever he is.”

“He won’t like it, he’ll think it’s pity.”

“No, but… I think he deserves it! More than me even!”

Sirius shook his head “It’s not just about cleverness, I was invited in my first year, all of my cousins had been members of the Slug Club. Of course, I didn’t go.”

You sighed, “Yeah, maybe my father being who he is has a lot more to do with my invitation than anything.”

“That’s not… it’s not what I was trying to say…”

You sighed again. “I know, Puppy.” You then turned to him, “Would you mind if I invited him?”

“Instead of me?” He teased.

“Of course if you don’t want to I would never, I just–”

Sirius laughed, “I couldn’t care less about the Slug Club, in fact, Walburga might be pleased if I were to go, so I think it’s great if you take Remus instead.” He really tried not to think of how good the two of you would look all dolled up for the party together.

“You think they know about us?” You asked with a frown.

“I’d be surprised if they didn’t,” Sirius said and then shrugged, “If anything I bet they’re pissed you’re dating me and not Regulus.”

You laughed at that, and then remembered the way Walburga had stared at you when she introduced their children, “Imagine if they knew I’m part-fairy.”

“You what?” Sirius asked, pushing himself from you to look straight at your face.

“You… I didn’t tell you?”

“No!”

“I thought I had,” you said with a guilty-looking smile “It’s from my mum’s side, my great grandma was a fairy, but they decided to keep it secret.”

“That must be why you’re so pretty,” He said as he leaned back against you “And so good at flying, it’s kind of an unfair advantage when you think about it.”

You smiled, you knew Sirius wouldn’t judge you for being part fairy, but there was something about the way in which he took it, like it was the most normal thing in the world –rather similar to the way Remus had– that made you want to plant a kiss on those pretty pinky lips of his.

“How do we convince Remus of the cuddling?” You asked then, your mind going back to the other boy.

Sirius smirked, “We don’t convince him. We surprise him,” he said as he stood up and extended his hand for you to take, a mischievous look on his face that made him look like the most alluring thing you had ever seen in your life. You almost gaped at him as you grabbed his hand and he pulled you off the bed and dragged you to the stairs of the boys’ dormitories.

Remus Lupin hadn’t had the best of days. He had attempted to help the boys clean the pens but the animals kept drifting apart from him and trying to escape their little space because of his presence. Eventually, Professor Kettleburn had asked him to step out of them and help him sort out some of the food, dividing it into smaller bags for the younger students to be able to feed them later on.

Remus was already used to not being able to be close to some creatures, they didn’t exactly like him much, probably because they could smell the wolf in him. Of course, it wasn’t like that all the time, in fact, the fireworms he was still co-parenting with you seemed to have gotten a liking to him, although he wasn’t sure if it was because they couldn’t quite think properly or if the real reason was because a fireworm could be easily as destructive as he was.

Either way, Remus hated sorting the food, it was a boring, tedious task that he felt brought no new knowledge to him, but that wasn’t even the worst part. No, the worst part was that, because it was such a simple and mundane task it offered no mental challenge, which meant his brain was idle. And of course, since his brain was idle, he couldn’t stop thinking about things he’d rather not think about at all. Let alone in depth.

It had all started as he was serving the second bag, his brain had gone back to the previous class, he’d seen how worried you were. While you hadn’t told Remus and the boys, or anyone the exact details of what had happened that night, you had mentioned Barty apparating in front of the Shack. Remus knew the boy was talented, but he didn’t know that he was that talented. He had no idea how to apparate yet, although after doing it with Dumbledore he thought he could learn how to do it easily enough.

He had also linked the smell from that night exactly to the way you smelled that day. He’d noticed he’d become a lot better at isolating your smell from the rest of people after the incident. He wasn’t sure if it was because of the lingering smell of bIood that always seemed to be carried alongside you after you had been wounded; because he had been so close to your animagus in the infirmary or because his obsession had just gotten that bad, but it was happening. Quite similar to the way he could easily isolate Sirius’ smell. But smell sometimes changed a little, he remembered easily being able to know when Sirius had snogged someone by the sheer smell he exuded afterwards, it always pissed him off and he had to play it out, especially after he realised it was because he too wanted to snog him. He could also tell when the rest of the boys had done similar things, but that had never bothered him.

But the fact that Remus had been able to identify the exact smell from that night, meant you were probably reliving what had happened, which had, in turn, put him just as on edge as he had been then. The same worry filled his insides, the same need to protect. It had taken a monumental struggle not to instantly sprint your way when the smell first hit him, and it had been even harder to hold back from hugging you when he could see damn well you could use one. And Sirius was too busy boasting with James to notice, not that you weren’t a brilliant actress, heck you hid it almost as well as he hid his aches and pains after a moon. But there had been few people he couldn’t quite hide it from. Turns out there were also people you couldn’t hide it from: that being Remus.

Remus attempted to focus on something else, and he looked up to try and find some kind of interesting animal, student drama or something, but instead, what he found was Sirius’ intense gaze. His eyes, which looked more blue than grey that day because of the sun that shone so brightly over them as they cleaned, were focused on Remus. Remus almost scowled, thinking Sirius was looking at him out of pity, but then he noticed that Sirius hadn’t quite realised Remus was looking at him yet. When they locked eyes, Sirius continued to shamelessly stare at Remus, looking to be rather deep in thought as he stared at his friend, as if he were trying to solve a riddle.

While Sirius didn’t look particularly angry as he stared, Remus was slightly intimidated by him, was there any chance he had noticed the way he had been looking at you? The way he kept staring at him when he wasn’t looking? Sirius wasn’t particularly oblivious to the way people looked at him, to the way girls looked at him. Was it possible that he was able to link those gazes to the ones Remus often threw his way?

Regardless of how intimidating “the Black” stare could be, Remus held his stance, staring at Sirius with as much curiosity and moxy as he could muster. Sirius seemed amused by that, biting his lip in the most lascivious manner Remus had ever seen in his life and then sending a wink in Remus’ direction before focusing on cleaning again.

Remus was glaring at Sirius’ back as the boy turned his head, how dare he wink at me like that? he thought as he mentally scoffed. Needless to say, Remus wasn’t able to get Sirius off his head after that, especially Sirius’ soft-looking lips. Fucking Sirius Black and his fucking pretty lips. He’s an arse who knows how pretty he is and uses it to his advantage. What a prat! Why must he be so fucking pretty?!?

By the end of the class, Remus’ head was in pain from how many thoughts were going ‘round inside of it, he might as well be a merry-go-round with how much it was swiveling. He had a headache, he was full of dirt and animal food and he was still pissed at Sirius who had looked at him the way he did.

James had gone chasing behind Lily with the excuse that he had to go check on her and Sirius had approached Remus right after. Peter was lost somewhere, but Remus couldn’t care less at that point. He was still pissed at Sirius, for absolutely no reason at all.

“You alright?” Sirius asked with a frown, and fuck did he look adorable.

“I’ve got a bit of a headache,” Remus said sharply, “I think I’ll go to the library.”

“You have a headache and will go to the library?” Sirius asked puzzled, “Doesn’t seem very clever, why don’t you come with? I’m going to try and find Kit, I’m surprised she didn’t come back to class after taking Lily to the dormitories.”

Remus scoffed, and coughed a bit to cover it up when he realised you wouldn’t want Sirius to know you had been affected because of that night, “Wouldn’t want to third wheel on quality time with your girlfriend.”

Sirius threw him a wary glance as if he had noticed something was wrong with his friend, “You’re never a third wheel Remus, we love having you around.”

Remus bit the side of his cheek to hold himself from snapping at Sirius, he had no logical reason to do it, any normal person would be more than happy to spend time with his best friends all together, but Moony was a jealous beast and sometimes it sipped all the way into Remus, “I have to prepare my potions essay.”

There was no potions essay, he had finished it a few nights ago when you had polyjuiced yourself into James to take his punishment for him, not that Sirius knew.

“And you should cuddle her more,” Remus said almost bitterly. When Sirius gave him a quizzical look he tried to calm his nerves again. “I think It still hurts,” he said “I saw her clutching her arm earlier.”

Sirius nodded and Remus stared at him as they parted ways, grumbling something about Sirius being unbelievable as he walked to the library. There he tried to find a quiet spot, but after finding none, because all students seemed to be more focused on gossip than on books, he decided to retire to the Prefects’ Bathroom, to try and relax. Unfortunately, when he went he walked in on none other than Alice Becket making out with a Ravenclaw boy from 7th. She seemed surprised when she saw Remus but he just shut the door.

Remus didn’t care much about Alice snogging other boys, he had used her as much as she was using him, and he knew they weren’t exactly exclusive, but he had already been pretty riled up at the moment, and that was like the last nail in the coffin. Thankfully Alice didn’t follow behind him as he stormed through the hall towards his Common Room. He hoped to the heavens that he wouldn’t find you and Sirius snogging on the couch because he wasn’t sure he’d be able to maintain his sanity if he did.

Thankfully, as he walked in, he realised it was mostly empty. There were a few first and second-year kids talking, and reading, while most of the older kids had probably gone to the Hogsmeade outing after class. He walked up to his room and opened the door warily as he looked around. He frowned as he took in the smell of the room. It looked empty, but there was a lingering scent of you and Sirius all over the place. The thought that you had both shagged there earlier made him even more uncomfortable as he let himself fall head first on the bed and groaned into his pillow.

For some fucking reason that also had the smell of you and Sirius. Which, while initially pissed him off, the more he let the smell penetrate him, the more relaxed he started to feel. He was about to let his mind roam with thoughts that he normally didn’t allow himself to have, with all the stress of the day he figured he deserved a break. He took a deep breath and remembered how you and Sirius had sounded back when you were kissing the day you made the potions for the prank. Remus was just starting to get in the mood when he felt his bed dip on the side. He turned around horrified, just to find Padfoot jumping like a happy puppy.

“What in the bIoody–” He started and then felt the bed dip on the other side. A small red fox had also jumped into his bed. She was wagging her tail as excitedly and happily as Padfoot “Vixen?” he asked, confused. He could have sworn he saw the fox smile.

The fox and the dog threw a look at each other before the fox climbed on top of Remus’ chest. The dog leaned in closer and rested his head on the fox’s back. Remus looked horrified at the two of them, horrified because he wasn’t sure he’d ever felt more comfortable –perhaps when he was reading and you were all mushed together on his bed– and horrified because he had no idea what the hell the two of you were planning.

He wasn’t even sure what to say, or if he should say anything, but it pissed him off not knowing what the hell the two of you were up to so he put on the angriest face he could muster “If you two pair of twats don’t get off me in the next five seconds, I will hex you!”

Padfoot stared at him and leaned his head on your back again, only tilting it to the side when Remus started to count down. Sirius had been stared at with that angry, threatening face hundreds of times throughout his life. He’d do something silly near the moon, and Remus would put on that same face and scowl at him, he’d get caught after a prank and Remus would give him the scowl, he’d snog a random girl and leave her and Remus would also get pissed, at this point, Sirius was almost immune to it. You, on the other hand, had only seen Remus angry at the Shack, and while it wasn’t exactly the same face he was making, it did make you recoil, even if it was just a little.

“Three… Two…” he kept counting, Remus was staring directly at you, and you wriggled out of the sandwich Remus and Padfoot had you on until you fell on the bed. You rolled over your back until you were staring at Remus, weight on your front paws as if you were ready to jump and attack, but there was something playful about it, as if you were challenging Remus. Padfoot on the other hand had just laid his head on Remus’ chest again, looking as unbothered with Remus as Sirius often was.

Remus attempted to push him off of him but Padfoot didn’t budge. Of course, Remus wasn’t using his full strength and Sirius knew that too, which gave him more confidence to stay right where he was. Besides, Remus was warm and comfortable and he smelled awfully nice that day.

“Sirius, get off! BIoody hell why are you both attacking me like this?!?” Padfoot barked softly and you leaned closer again, but Remus gave you a warning glance “Either one of you explains to me what the fuck is going on or–” Padfoot leaned forward and licked Remus’ cheek, an action awfully reminiscent of the Halloween party. Remus pushed him off his face “That’s fucking gross!”

Regardless, the dog didn’t seem to care and licked Remus’ hands as he attempted to push him off. You watched the entire scene diverted when the werewolf turned to you, a pleading look on his face. “Little Witch, please tell me what the fuck is going on.”

You felt genuinely tempted to ignore him and just lick his face like Sirius had done, but there was something about Remus’ pleading expression that made you want to do whatever he wanted. You turned back into yourself, not quite measuring your stance and ended up laying beside Remus, almost like that time you were reading “The Godfather” except this time around your head was leaning on his arm. But rather than stepping away, like Remus expected you to do, you just got yourself comfortable, which was a very Sirius thing to do. Padfoot had laid his paws on Remus’ torso and licked your face once too, which had you laughing merrily as you lay in Remus’ arms.

Remus was rather tense, feeling like he might be third-wheeling but also awfully welcomed in between the two of you. “Little witch?” he asked again, an edge of panic in his voice as Padfoot continued trying to lick his face and yours.

“Peter told us we had to cuddle you.”

“What?!” Remus asked as he frowned, now more confused than he’d been before.

Sirius transformed back into himself, he was sitting on the bed, leaning slightly onto Remus as his hands were pressed on the other boy’s abdomen like they had done when they were paws. “Well technically, he said Vixen had to cuddle Padfoot and Prongs.”

“You’re not making anything clear,” Remus said as he motioned to stand but both you and Sirius held him down. You by placing your hands on his arm and Sirius by leaning onto him just a little more.

“It’s because of the smell,” you explained. “He said Moony had honed on my smell and that he kept chasing after me since the first moon.”

Yeah, Moony isn’t the only one who honed onto your smell, Remus thought.

“And he said if we rub our smell on her and she smells like the pack then Moony wouldn’t chase her anymore.”

Remus looked at you horrified, “You wouldn’t be thinking of setting a foot out on the next full moon, would you?”

“Well of course I will,” you said simply. “We can’t have Moony continue being all reckless chasing after me or whatever, he’s hurting himself, and you in the process.”

“We can’t have him hurt you either,” Remus said sharply.

“And that, my dear friend, is why we are going to cuddle you,” Sirius said with an air of finality.

“I… I don’t know about–”

“We have to try, Rem!” You said lifting yourself and turning to him, a little more serious now. You sighed. “I don’t want you to keep hurting yourself because of me. And if what I need to do to fix it is cuddle the shit out of you and Padfoot then, I’ll take one for the team.”

Sirius barked a laugh after that and shoved you lightly on the side “Oh shut up, Vixen loves cuddles!”

“Not from dirty smelly dogs,” you teased.

Sirius straight up gasped at that, looking rather amused. “Oh, you little minx!” He said as he turned into Padfoot again and jumped over you, licking your face mercilessly. He kept barking in between licks. And both you and Remus knew exactly what he was saying even if neither of you spoke dog.

“Take that back, Take that back!” Padfoot said with each bark.

After laughing so much your stomach started to hurt, you complied. “All right, alright! You’re not a dirty smelly dog, Pads!”

The dog barked satisfied, cooing his head in a smug manner that would have allowed anybody to figure out that he was Sirius and not a normal dog. You had reached up and started rubbing the back of his ears, gently scratching. Remus, without thinking much about it, joined you, your fingers brushing against each other as you both petted Padfoot.

“That’s right, he’s a good boy, isn’t he?” Remus teased. Sirius was about to protest, but the boy scratched the dog in a way he knew would shut him up; and rather than complain, he started wagging his tail behind him as he leaned onto Remus’ touch.

“By Merlin! You have to teach me that!” You said with a surprised expression as you watched the way Padfoot leaned onto Remus, who had somewhat of a smug smile on his face. “You think it would shut Sirius up too?” The dog barked your way and was about to jump over you again when Remus scratched the same way again and he instantly melted back onto the other boy. You giggled at that. “You’re brilliant, Rem!”

Remus almost beamed at that, while the stress of the day wasn’t getting relieved the salacious way he thought it would, cuddling his two crushes, even if they would be in their animal form, might as well be a lot better. As long as he didn’t think much of it. Besides it had been your idea –technically Peter’s– which meant you actually wanted to cuddle him.

And while earlier, at least at the Halloween Party he had shone away from your touch, after he felt the way Sirius’ hands and yours brushed over his body, it felt a lot less intimate to cuddle Padfoot and Vixen, even if it was just as nice, and even if you still hadn’t turned to Vixen. You were too entertained petting Padfoot and the dog seemed rather content, even as his girlfriend was cosied up against his best friend. Head on his shoulder and shoulder –the not wounded one– against his torso.

He knew Sirius to be jealous, he had been jealous of Tom several times, but he seemed to be feeling nothing of the sorts as you cuddled up against Rem. And boy were you a lot closer to him than you’d ever been to Tom, which he was really trying not to think much about.

Remus stared at the both of you, the dog and the girl, all comfortable, and all over him as he wondered if Sirius just didn’t consider him a rival at all. He had never seemed jealous of how close you and he were. How many projects and classes you had together, how much time you spent with each other. Remus, like he often did, started to overthink it. Was he that bad-looking that Sirius wouldn’t even consider the possibility of him stealing his girl? Was it that impossible to believe you could like him back?

No, you had called him pretty several times, you had mentioned he was hot too, Sirius had mentioned the same thing. If he didn’t know any better he’d think it had been flirting. But neither of you would flirt, you were too bIoody in love with each other to ever even consider another person. But Sirius was definitely a jealous man. Jealous except when… it comes to me.

You looked up at Rem when you realised he had stopped petting Pads, you only noticed because the dog kept bumping his head on the way to his hand as if asking to continue what he’d been doing, when you saw the frown on his pretty face, his brows knitting together as he was in deep thought, you spoke “What’s got your knickers in a twist? Is cuddling us that uncomfortable?”

“What?!” Remus asked as you brought him back, trying not to look at your lips as you laid so close to him, “No, no! I was thinking of– hold up! Aren’t I supposed to be cuddling Padfoot and Vixen?”

“You are,” you said with a shrug.

“I’m cuddling Padfoot and my little witch,” he said amused.

Not one person in the room questioned the way Remus had said “my” prior to Little Witch. In fact, not the dog, not the girl, not even the small portrait in the back –that was known to be rather outspoken– even questioned the wording of the sentence, as if you all knew, on a subconscious level, that it was true.

You gasped, not realising you had completely forgotten to turn back, too entertained on petting the dog to think about it “You’re bIoody right!” you said as you leaned forwards brusquely, Remus really tried not to feel bad about the cold breeze that instantly hit him after your bodies separated from each other. “Must have been really tired, I was about to fall asleep.”

And you really had been, not that you knew why you were so sleepy. It seemed the cosiness both boys brought over soothed you to sleep.

Padfoot barked your way, you didn’t have to be a dog expert to know he was making fun of you. He poked his head on Remus’ hand again, as if to prompt him to continue his ministrations, and you looked at him, a spark of jealousy lighting inside you, not because you didn’t like Remus petting your boyfriend, but because you wanted in on the petting too. In an instant, you turned to Vixen, shrinking to the middle of the bed and walking your way toward Remus’ chest, and pushing Padfoot’s head just slightly to the side, as if you owned the place.

The dog nibbled your ear in protest but ended up letting you do whatever the hell you wanted, placing his head on top of your back once you looked like you had gotten yourself comfortable. He made sure to brush his snout all over your smaller body. Partly because he wanted to make sure he was rubbing you with the scent of the pack, but mostly because he wanted to see if he’d get a reaction out of you. You only leaned closer to Remus, closing your eyes as you got yourself even more comfortable. The boy, the only human left in the room, smiled and placed a hand over your small head.

Padfoot looked like he was about to protest over the loss of contact, Remus without even opening his eyes mumbled “It’s Vixen the one that needs the smell of the pack, not you Pads.”

The dog huffed in response, he too wanted to be pet by Remus, but he also knew Remus was right, so he just nuzzled his head closer to Vixen’s body as you nuzzled your own against Remus’ hand. Remus was enjoying the way the two of you warmed him more than almost anything he’d ever enjoyed in his life. Perhaps only rivalled with that one kiss he had given you and the one he had shared with Sirius years past.

And while the nagging little voice in his head screamed at him to run, to leave before he knew what heartbreak really was after being able to be so close and yet not being able to have either of you, he decided to ignore it.

Remus would wallow in the feeling of the two of you nuzzling against him, even if it was just this once.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

TAGLIST: @rayrlupin @callmelovergirl @warcelia @ireneop @endversewinchester @moonyunebi @smuttysluttybitch @mazzymoons @drugs-for-memes @sofiacblair @vmpir3lvr @remuslupinisbae @rabluver @willgrahamisalesbi4n @thatobsessedreader @orkwardx0 @itskailey24 @hell0-kittie @belovedmoony @blacksgarden @loving-and-dreaming @cassie-love20 @starchaser-lily @zucchini-queenie @springflwer07 @sseleniaa @cometsghost @orkwardx0 @imdoingbetternow @sbrewer21 @remuslupinsbae @maxinehufflepuffprincess @wifiatthetrainstation @unstablereader @msblacklupin @oliversaurus @jaylienpotter @remussbitch @hermionelove @izuoyarmin @themarauderswife7 @keira-kaz2y5 @lampthemacarenagod @bugg06 @a-n-1-m-3-f-r-3-4-k @darlingeels @kissmeunicornbaobei @xluansstuff @boo8008 @angelmixer @voteforintensedreams @allons-y-molly @aremuslupinsimp @imaginexred @writingshae @nyanwyn @poetrypirate @crazyhorseforgot @saturnhas82moons @ryeyeyer @itsthequackshire @maqqiekwon @desikudisworld

Leve a comment telling me if you wanna be tagged on Gilded Constellations

Want to support me? Like and reblog this post (reblogs are extra nice since they help me get my work to more people), also guys, I absolutely love reading your comments, so do throw them my way if you have any!

A/N: Well, well, well, but look who's all about the cuddling? Also GUYS! Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

Read more Marauders Fiction

212 notes · View notes

autumnsxxangel · 8 months

Text

SandRay are an homage to Wong Kar-Wai's Happy Together and in this essay I will..

...actually explain it because I see people catching his homage's to Western queer media, but not really his shout outs to Eastern queer media.

I assumed there would be allusions to Happy Together when I first saw the trailer, but this last episode centered around Ray really cemented it for me. After all, why would P'Jojo reference all these Western queer shows and not talk about what is probably the most iconic piece of Eastern queer media ever?

Wong Kar-Wai & Happy Together

For some background information, Wong Kar-Wai is a famous and insanely influential Hong Kong filmmaker. If you're a film nerd, you probably know who he is and recognize his style. If you like film and metas, I would recommend watching some of his stuff because afterwards, you'll realize just how much influence he still has on modern media, especially in Asia. Stylistically, he's known for rich color grading; thematic usage of music; an unending sense of nostalgia, heartbreak, and missed opportunities; and dialogue that mean nothing on the surface because everything meaningful is boiling just under, left unsaid (If you've watched Everything Everywhere, All At Once, the entire actress universe sequence was an homage to Wong Kar-Wai). His actors always do a phenomenal job because so much of what they need to portray can't be communicated through words. It makes sense why SandRay, aka FirstKhao, were chosen to represent Happy Together as they are the strongest actors out of the group.

Happy Together, simply summarized, is about two men, Ho Po-Wing and Lai Yiu-Fai, who are in a very tumultuous relationship. They end up in Argentina because they wanted to visit the waterfall that's on a lamp that they own. They get lost, end up using all their money, and have to figure out a way to get back to Hong Kong. While there, they break up, get back together, and break up again.

The movie was released in 1997 and is still ranked as one of the best queer movies of all time. The two main characters are played by Tony Leung and Leslie Cheung. You might recognize Tony Leung as Simu Liu's dad in Shang-Chi. Leslie Cheung was in Farewell, My Concubine, and was famously a bisexual man with a long term male partner. This is significant because it was virtually unheard of to be out and open at that time (he made his relationship public in 1997 though he had mentioned bisexuality in earlier years), especially in Hong Kong which was, and still is, very homophobic. Leslie received a lot of hate for his sexuality and androgyny. (If you're interested in learning more about Leslie as a queer Asian figure, this is a good video essay that goes over his work and his life).

Sand as Lai Yiu-Fai

Fai's, and in turn Sand's, character can be summed up by one line, "One thing I never told Ho Po-Wing was that I didn't want him to recover so fast. Those were our happiest days."

Both Fai and Sand are very static, straightforward characters. They stay above board for the most part and work a variety of jobs to survive. They have their morals about what is right and wrong, which unfortunately is both of their downfalls.

In Happy Together, Wing breaks up with Fai because he is bored with the relationship. He basically says, "I'm bored being with you. Let's break up. If we happen to meet again, we can try again." Then he leaves Fai stranded on the side of a highway.

Later, he reappears in Fai's life. The first encounter is a fight, much like Sand and Ray's first meeting in the bathroom. The second encounter is because Wing gets beaten up. He goes to Fai because he knows Fai will feel obligated to take care of him and he does. It becomes the beginning of their rekindled relationship.

Similarly, Sand has a strong sense of obligation. There are already metas out there about how Sand has a bit of a hero complex. He sees Ray too drunk to drive and he had to step in. He doesn't just take the keys and order a taxi. No, he takes the keys and drives Ray. Sand sees Ray being all sad and pathetic and he can't stop himself from helping. It makes him feel useful. It makes him feel needed.

Both of these men are caretakers. They show affection by providing care. Sand ends up cooking for Ray just as Fai cooks for Wing even when he's sick. As an added bonus, they both make fried rice.

Both Sand and Fai are characters that stand completely still. Ray and Wing always know where to find them. Sand can always be found at YOLO and Fai is at his apartment. Because of this, Ray and Wing come and go as they please. They know that Sand and Fai will take them back...until they finally don't.

Ray as Ho Po-Wing

Starting on a base level, both characters are bratty, needy, promiscuous, spoiled, and selfish. But most importantly, they both share a love of fluffy cardigans.

(I also have a theory they keep putting Ray in wife beaters as an homage to the 90's HK cinema style because otherwise...I just don't understand why, as a rich asshole, he's always in wife beaters. By Thai BL logic, he should be in shirts with too many buttons unbuttoned.)

Wing and Ray are both the ones controlling the pace and direction of the relationship. They come when they need someone to nurture their wounds, both physically and metaphorically. They leave when they're bored or have things they deem more important. They both initiate intimacy and won't take no for an answer.

Wing does this by first trying to join Fai on the couch and then chasing after him to the bed and begging him to let them sleep together.

Ray does it by continuously getting Sand to get in the car with him and then using his puppy dog eyes.

They are both also very, very pouty.

Wing's line is "We could start over". He says it every time he comes back after he's the one that ends the relationship. Fai always fights taking him back, but he always does it anyway.

Ray doesn't really have a line yet (unless you count his "na na naa~"s) but he bats his eyelashes and so far Sand has given into him every time. Sand keeps trying to set boundaries, but the moment Ray begs a little bit, Sand crumbles like a house of cards and lets Ray have whatever he wants.

Relationship Parallels

Wong Kar-Wai is known for making movies about star crossed lovers who are meant for each other, but aren't meant to be together.

Like Wing and Fai, Sand and Ray fill in each other's cracks in a way that complements each other. However, because of the nature of the cracks themselves, them complementing each other is exactly what makes the relationship so toxic. One stays and one goes. One takes and one gives. One is steady and one is flighty.

Most of what I wanted to say about the parallels between their relationships is in the character comparison. What I'm more interested in is the future of SandRay's relationship, especially if they continue to parallel Wing and Fai's in Happy Together.

Obviously, Wing and Fai don't end up together at the end. It wouldn't be a Wong Kar-Wai movie if they did. What is interesting is that Fai's relationship with Wing eventually pushes him into becoming something angry and spiteful. Once Wing heals, Fai knows that he'll become bored and want to leave. In an attempt to get him to stay, he steals and hides Wing's passport which is insane because they are both gay men stuck in a foreign country where they don't speak the language.

Wing, of course, leaves anyway.

There is also a third character, Chang, whom Fai ended up liking. These new feelings are what eventually pushes Fai to leave Argentina and move on from Wing and move on with his life.

The question is, if SandRay follows that same path as Happy Together, what will be the passport that Sand tries to hold over Ray and who will be Sand's Chang?

Stylistic Parallels

Smoking

Making Ray and Sand smoke is definitely an homage to Happy Together with the added bonus of being a metaphor. For the most part, we rarely see characters, especially main characters, smoke in Asian media because smoking is reserved for 'bad' characters.

Cigarettes in Happy Together represent boredom. Fai and Wing smoke at the beginning before they rekindle their relationship because they are just moving through life. Once Fai and Wing get back together, cigarettes stop making an appearance. It isn't until their relationship started deteriorating that we see the men smoking again.

This can also be said about Sand Ray's relationship. They started their 'involvement' with cigarettes. However, the last time we actually see them smoking is in ep 2 right before they hook-up. Since then, we have not seen either of them smoking. This probably means that we'll see one or both of them smoking again when their relationship starts to break down.

(In the preview for ep 5, there is an ashtray in the background on the balcony so let's see if Boston finding out about them is a catalyst for them to start breaking down.)

And of course, there is the added homoeroticism of asking for a light.

Ray's Opening and Closing Scenes

Ray's episode is really what made me go "I see you P'Jojo".

Ray's episode starts with a shot of him isolated and in emotional pain. The camera is claustrophobically close and it keeps moving around. He has a little voiceover opening. It's calm, it's contemplative, it's a little existential, and it is irrevocably sad. If that is not a Wong Kar-Wai staple, then idk what is. Even the song that starts playing gives me 80s, 90s Cantopop vibes.

Ray talks about how Mew being his emergency contact and the one he goes to. Fai talks about how Wing always comes back to him and says "Let's start over".

The movie and the episode ends with both of them once again isolated, alone. They've been through an emotional journey and they've technically moved on. But there's always the idea of not being able to fully let go in Wong Kar-Wai's movie. So just like how Fai has physically removed himself from Wing, but not emotionally, has Ray actually fully removed himself from Mew?

Cinematography

Then there's just a collection of scenes that reminded me very heavily of Happy Together and Wong Kar-Wai's style. I would have added pictures from his other movies for comparison, but Tumblr only lets me put 30 images in a post and I don't want to make a 2nd post.

This scene is specifically from the 1st trailer so I hope they keep it in the show.

This one I call the inevitability of falling. Both Sand and Fai realize they're fully committed to their decision to take care of Ray and Wing here.

The end title card

Actually, all of the end title cards give very Wong Kar-Wai vibes. Look at that saturated, neon color grading. Look at the elongated shots. The intense feeling of isolation.

I'm assuming we'll get all the characters at one point, but so far it looks like the end credit cards indicate who the narrator of each episode is.

Anyway, that's it for me! Sorry it was so long and rambling. I tried to organize my thoughts but as I was thinking, more thoughts would pop up and I'd get distracted. If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

#ofts #only friends the series #only friends series #sandray #ofts meta #only friends meta #happy together #i have to post this now because if i dont ill keep writing and ive already spent too much time on this #if anyone has other screenshot comparisons post them #because there are a few more scenes that give me major wong kar-wai vibes #but im too tired to look for them now

422 notes · View notes

tarjapearce · 5 months

Text

Chapter 4: But It's Cries Were Unheard

WARNING: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Depictions of toxic relationships (I do not condone nor encourage them), verbal abuse, mentions of mental disorders, character background, character study, mentions of abortion, comfort towards the end.

Summary: Honest talks either make it or break it.

A/N: A little nervous for this chapter jsksj. Hope you enjoy ❤️. Comments and reblogs are highly appreciated ✨

Chapter Song:

Running away wasn't something you did, it wasn't in you to suddenly turn into the direction you had come and run away leaving an unforgiving mayhem behind you, yet something in your body told that if you remained in the same space as them, something terrible and ominous would happen.

The first warning was your body, forcing you to fold over and empty your stomach in the nearest trash bin you could find, the slap your cheek received was the final hue-and-cry. You didn't look back, Dana's cries and angry words were too much to digest.

You really wanted to believe at least something good had happened from all this piping hot mess. You refused to believe that she would take him back, that she was a masochist, and although as excruciatingly painful it all surely was for her, you had freed her from someone that didn't deserve her. You had set her free from Miguel.

Someone that underservingly just like you, were dragged to this messed up triangle that spun so hard, it had turned into a tornado of lies and half truths.

Get rid of it

How could he?

His words had brought to light so many memories you had tried so so hard to bury, only for them to crawl back to the surface, as heartrending as ever in your mind and your beating organ that threatened to stop at any second if you didn't get the keys to unlock your car and leave.

An imaginary monster breathed in your neck, salivating at the anxiousness brewing within yourself, ready to pounce on you with full force in the shape of a panic attack, despite your car being away from the war zone. Your little heaven, where you had still control pulled you out, injured, maybe crippled from the shards of the hearts broken and left forsaken by a man that did nothing but burn everything in his wake.

Your was pulled out, smashed against the floor, stomped on and then doused in gasoline while all you could do was seeing his beloved fiancé, have her own receiving the same treatment.

You left. It was clear that none of them wanted you around. None of them could stand the sight of you. Dana specially. unknowingly, you had dragged her into the light, yanking away the blindfold Miguel had masterfully crafted over the years. Needless to say he wasn't appreciating that little stunt from you.

And he definitely wasn't enjoying one bit having all his lies finally exposed to the four winds. If you could go back to that night, knowing what you knew now, you wouldn't have even assisted to begin with, but that meant another woman would've been left at his mercy.

Apparently life had chosen you as the sacrificial lamb, and with a creature growing in your guts, you had accepted the role, unwillingly bestowed upon you.

Your fingers had dialed the only number you kept in your emergency list. MJ while in traffic. It wasn't a nice nor understandable talk since you were all over the place, hyperventilating and weeping in your little car despite the lights turning bright green some seconds ago, provoking the cars tailing at you to honk angrily, as if their noise would make it away.

Would make it all go away, but in opposite, it just gave you a major headache, rising your nauseas again.

"Dana, mi amor-"

"Mi amor?!" Her angry yelling enervated Miguel's docile demeanor, "Don't you dare to call me that."

"We can work this out, just listen-"

"No, Miguel. I won't listen, I won't and I don't want to!"

"Can you stop behaving-"

"Like a what?! A crazy bitch?, say it!"

A little twitch in Miguel's eyes was the only response Dana got in return. In other times, that was the signal for them to just remove their clothes and raw eachother silly until one of them were either spent, which was usually her, after two rounds.

Miguel's hand tried to reach for Dana's arm but she quickly recoiled, as if he had burned her skin with a bright lit coal. Now, she wanted everything but to be touched by him, or even talked to. Nothing believable came out the pretty lips she once used to bite and kiss at her whims. But there was nothing but disgust blossoming in the more she stared at them.

His crooked teeth contained after the meaty pair of muscles that covered them, they moved but Dana paid no attention.

"Dana! Puta madre, Escúchame!" (Listen to me!)

"No! You listen to me, you... pathetic excuse of a man."

A little growl rumbled on his chest, but his now ex fiancé didn't budge.

"Careful with your words"

"Or what? What were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't! Ok? I wasn't fucking thinking-"

"Of course you weren't. Your dick was thinking for you"

"It was a-"

"I swear If you say that it was an accident-"

"It wasn't. I was angry at you."

"And just cause you were angry you had to go and fuck someone else?! Even worse get her pregnant?! Are you stupid?"

"Clearly you're not-"

"Understanding? Oh poor Miguel got so angry that he fucked someone else. What did you expect to get?! A million dollars to grow inside?! Man the fuck up!"

Miguel rubbed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose a bit too hard, but the pain grounded him. Anchored him to his rational line of thinking.

"You got someone else pregnant, Miguel."

"She'll get rid of it, I know-"

Dana had to take some steps back. Not only what he just said made her queasy and uneasy, no, it wasn't the words alone, it was the mood and tinge he used to pronounce them.

"How... how can you call your child an it? It's a baby! Not something you can get rid of!"

"I don't wanna be a father, she doesn't wants it either. What is the most logical thing to do?"

"Manning up and take responsibility for your actions."

"Oh, qué la chingada... No, Dana. Why would make the... baby or whatever to suffer unnecessarily?"

"Suffer from what? For having a terrible father?"

"You know why."

"You're so so phony. Oh my goodness, and to think I was going to marry you."

"No, no no. Dana, hermosa. Look, we can still get-"

Another slap.

"Listen to yourself, not only you want your baby's mother to abort it, you were... you were about to pay her..."

Her voice broke, and Miguel gulped. The both pushed and pulled, but Dana was the strong one in this occasion. He was losing the tug of war game, big time.

"You cheated on me cause I wasn't... I couldn't give you a child, didn't you? Is that it?!"

"No... I was stupid."

"Pretty fucking stupid. Give me the apartment keys."

"Don't be ridiculous. That's my apartment too."

"Oh, no. Not anymore. Remember the pre-nup?"

Fuck...

His shoulders once more rose. Tension taking a hold of his barely noticeable shaky body.

"Remember when you said you'd never cheat and even dare me to add that? Well, thanks for the idea, Miguel."

His nose flared angrily, the first columns that supported him crumbled. But no matter, he had his own and it was better and more roomy than the current one he shared with her.

He tossed the keys in her hands

" You know... what actually hurts the most about it besides knowing you cheated?"

Dana hiccuped and wiped her eyes. Her hair bobbed softly as she wiped her eyes.

"That... You were about to pay her to get rid of your child. When... I had been trying so hard to give you one. Someone else is making you a father. And... its not me, Miguel."

Another wave of fresh tears rolled down her flushed in anger cheeks. In another time, she'd melt into his touch, bask in the warmth and comfort he, in his own way provided. But now, she didn't want him. Repulse bloomed in every pore of her being whenever he insisted on touching her.

"We can fix this, I know. Give her some time to think about it-"

"Think about what, Miguel? She's obviously scared! I'd...I'd give anything to be her right now."

Miguel grunted, derision as expected and slicked his hair back.

"What? An underpaid receptionist?"

"No, you... heartless dick! A mother to be! And probably a single mother now..."

Silence made it's way towards both, permeating the ambience, but Dana broke it with a deep and blasé sigh.

"You have one week to get your stuff out."

"That's not enough time-"

"Funny for you to still think I care. You better start tonight then."

"Aren't you forgetting something?"

Dana pulled the ring out and tossed it at his face. The metal band bounced on his chest to then fall to the ground. Miguel kneeled to pick it up and rub off the dirt on it.

"If you don't tell Gabriel about it, I will."

"I don't need supervision."

"Are you sure about that?"

Miguel's eyes turned icy towards her, but he turned around with a huff to finally toss everything inside his car.

"You better take responsibility for that child."

Dana chided, angry and hurt as she was, she also tried to appeal to the human and logical side of him.

"Or what?, You're telling my mother?"

"You're so full of shit, man the fuck up for once and own your mistakes."

"For all I know that thing wouldn't be mine. She could be lying!"

He was now the junkie hooked on denial, but another slap didn't shake him, just made him angrier.

"Yet you were willing to pay a stranger to get an abortion. I heard enough to know it's your mess. It's not a thing, it's a child!."

"Are you done?"

"Act all though shit if you want, but you know I am right. And I know how much you hate when I'm right. Tell me something."

Her eyes met his, and a chill ran down her spine upon finding nothing but coldness in them.

"Was it worth it? Cheating on me and keeping me in the shadows for almost three months?"

"No. It wasn't."

"Then why? Why you did it?"

He'd be a bigger liar if he came up with an honest answer, cause in truth he didn't know. He gave into his intrusive thoughts, simple as that. Yet, oh such a mess was born from it.

"I... I always knew that sooner or later you'd cheat on me. I'm not perfect by any means, but... you... Not wanting to do anything with your own child? That's..."

"Enough. Move it. I gotta go."

"As ironic as things are? Mark my words when I tell you, you'll beg to have a spot in that child's life."

"Dana, move."

"And when you do? All you'll get in return is the same treatment. And God, I hope you do."

"Muévete de una pinche vez!" (Move the fuck away)

She didn't trembled nor waned her bravado because of him yelling. She was used to his outbursts.

"One week."

"Fucking heard you already."

His car's door was slammed, Dana had to step back, to watch him drive away. The new reality he left her drowning in was crushing her, yet she knew that one way or another life had given her the answer to the question that often assaulted her mind in those little moments of self introspection she had after a long day.

Is Miguel the one for me?

No. Not anymore. She wasn't even sure before the elephant had popped in the room, yet, she had clung onto him so hard that letting go was still one the most difficult things she had ever done. The usual part of her had the urge to call him, and talk things through, like they always did. But this time was different.

Damned her if she called him back. She wouldn't endanger the little dignity that remained in her. Besides, her own problems were just delivered. She now had to explain her family why she was single again, she'd spare him the gruesome details, a last proof of her undeserving love for him.

How could he had been so stupid? He knew he had to change the condom, he knew he had to stop for a minute and pull a new one. Seconds he had decided to ignore were now knocking on his door, in the shape of something so horrific that reminded him of his past, his roots and everything that he rendered to his family.

But his own saying had no room when Dana had laid his cards pretty much clearly before him, and so had you. Had you taken the check?

Of course you did, if you wouldn't need it, the paper piece would've be on the floor. Hopefully you'll use it to wipe that little mistake away. He refused to perpetuate his story. He wanted a child. Of course he did. But not like this. Not in the same fucked up way he was conceived.

He had vaguely explained Dana his past, but omitted that crucial part he was sure would have served as an empathy source in her reasoning for this situation.

He didn't want to admit that her curse had unnerved him. Dana and her omen had stirred something he kept locked away for so long he thought it long dead.

Nothing mattered anymore. He went to a nearby store to get some boxes, the sooner he'd pack and leave, the least chances would be to see and explain Dana's family about the whys about his sudden leaving. And to his luck, they loved him.

They thought Dana had won the loterry with him.

The least he wanted right now was to face his problems, or them talking back to him. Feelings and emotions too raw on him to allow them run rampant.

His lies were out, exposed, with no other way for them to hide. The deed was done and so was his bed. For now, he partially fixed it. Putting the bedsheets ontop. Cause if he was gonna lay in it, he'd do it comfortable enough to do so.

MJ gave your shoulders a gentle rub, before serving you a warm cup of chamomile tea with a bit of honey.

The ride back home from the clinic had been quiet, none of you dared to say a peep. MJ knew that you were too shaken to be functional enough. Too affected to articulate something, and still, she didn't ebb you to speak. She sat across you, giving your hand a gentle rub.

Minutes ticked by, the little tic tac of The clock made your own thoughts to pace to it's rhythm despite the racing and jumbled tempo inside your head. And when silence felt too deep and stretched, you spoke.

"Ever... felt like you've done something you thought right for the wrong reasons?"

"You did what you though was right, sweetie."

MJ looked at you with a softened and judgement devoid gaze.

"I... I couldn't do it, MJ. I thought that... I was able to. But I chickened out last second."

"Do you wanna share with me the why?"

"That's the thing! That I don't know!"

A shake of your head cut short a little broken whimper, while you pushed some strands of hair away from your somber face.

"I know it was the right thing to do! Even Miguel is right, but I couldn't!"

The knot in your throat tightened, making a sob to die suffocated. MJ squeezed your hand tighter.

"I'm sure you must hate me. "

"Why would you think that?"

Her face went from a frown to then morph into a surprised grimace

"Cause... I wanted to abort when I knew your struggles to-*

Your name was chided in such a soft yet firm way it had your eyes glossing once more. The kind of voice she'd use to discipline Mayday, full of love yet not taking any shit.

"You truly can't be serious right now. Sweetie, my pregnancy has nothing to do with yours. You owe me nothing. You owe those who struggle, nothing. Don't blame yourself, ok?"

"But I-"

"But nothing. You have the right to choose. You can still choose."

"The thing is... I don't know what to do."

"And it's perfectly normal to feel lost."

"I ran away cause... I didn't want to be like my mother. And that's a selfish-"

"Babe." MJ pursed her lips in a saddened smile, "Whetever reason you didn't do it, it's fine. You're not selfish or alike your mother for wanting an abortion."

"When Miguel told me to get rid of it... I... I got so many of my memories with her back. I wanted to cry and... scream."

"Then cry and scream, let it all out, sweetheart. And after you've done so, choose again."

"I can't, MJ. I... felt like my mother when I was about to enter that room. She was always... telling Dylan to get rid of me once her pills were over."

You sniffed and the redhead you had for a best friend passed you a handkerchief, which you used to wipe your eyes and tears, right away.

" It didn't help that Dylan hid them, and I was the only one to blame. I... I am the least adequate person to have a baby, but I'm too much of a coward to abort."

MJ pushed the tea closer to you, it had grown a bit less warm, but she listened.

"And... I feel like a monster to wish that sometimes my body would act like the silent killer and take it all away. But I know it doesn't works like that."

"Whatever you choose, I'll be there. If you want to reschedule your appointment at the clinic, I'll help you out after it's done."

Your eyes finally broke down at her next words.

"But If you want to give them for adoption, I'll help into looking for the right people. And, if you change your mind later about it all, I ask before anyone else to be the godmother."

"God, you're... you're such an angel MJ."

Hot and fat tears soaked the flimsy piece of fabric.

"Hell, even if you need some economic help-"

"Oh no no... No. I... I can't take that from you when you're already doing so much for me."

"I don't think Miguel is willing to help out."

"I don't need him. I've done it on my own for the past couple of months and I've done so great, didn't I?"

"Will you use the check?"

"And have another reason for him to be around me? No. I tossed it to the trash after tearing it apart. Kind of regret not giving it to someone in need."

"What If he tries to, you know, go the legal way?"

"Then he'll only prove he's a shitty parent."

"Just... It's so damn hard for me to wrap my head around it, you know? How could you just ask to get rid of something?"

"That's just who he is. I don't want anything to do with him."

"So... you're... carrying the pregnancy to a term?"

"Yeah." You sighed and looked at her, "I'll give the baby for adoption."

MJ nodded.

"You still have a couple of weeks to reschedule, you know? You don't have to force yourself to do this."

"I know. But I'm not forcing myself. I... I choose to do this because I refuse to just be like her."

"You're not your mother."

Those simple murmurs had your throat knotting impossibly tight.

"I know it's selfish to... use a child like that. Just to prove yourself something else. But I am unable to abort. I can't... I just can't. I'll feel even worst if I do."

"I'll look into adoption programs we can discuss later, ok?"

You could only nod.

"It's alright. Everything is gonna be alright."

"I gotta find a better job though. My current salary isn't enough to cover up future expenses and my insurance plan is gonna be ridiculously expensive."

"Want me to help you in that too?"

"Are you sure?"

"Obviously. You hate being pitied on, understandably so, yet, we gotta be realistic in some stuff."

"I'm not ashamed to ask the government for help."

"I know. But what if Miguel actually has a bit of conscience left and tries to help?"

"No. I don't want anything coming from him, I rather overwork myself than to ask him for shit. He'll throw it at my face. He thought I wanted money to keep myself shut!"

"Didn't Alchemax offers maternity insurance or something like that?"

"It does but... It's only for a little time. And I'm not sure to keep working in that place, knowing I can see them anytime or... something could happen to me."

"I still can't believe that woman hit you."

"She had the right to do so. But I'm also scared of her. He's such a manipulator that he could bait her into taking him back."

"I don't know about that. She seems like the kind of woman that takes so much for so long until she decides it's enough."

"Pretty sure having your fiance knock up a stranger is enough."

"Focus on you, ok? You already did your part in telling them both. What they decide to do, is up to them."

MJ wasn't wrong. It was up to them. If Dana was to take a grudge, you'd bear it. You were brave enough to spill it all to her, even if that earned a slap from her. But now she was free.

And Miguel...

Another deep sigh.

You'd pretend he didn't exist, just like he had been playing for the last months. The more you thought about the clinic and the business you were about to perform, made you unnerved.

You didn't want to go back, even if your life depended on it, you'd refuse. In all the categorical and brazen truth, you weren't able to abort cause it didn't feel right.

Although MJ told you weren't your mother, that's how exactly you felt while being before the pristine white walls of the surgery room.

It brought back one of the many coldhearted memories you had from your messed up childhood. Social services were regulars in the doorstep of the paltry looking and shabby located apartment. Post partum psychosis had your mother in and out of the psychiatric ward, a distant relative took care of you in the meantime.

Joy lasted for almost five years, until her schizoaffective disorder acted up, often endangering you. Until one day you were sure she was taking your life away, with her own hands.

With a blink of an eye, you removed your attention back to MJ whose eyes had turned in a deep concerned stare at your sudden shut off.

"I'll put the baby for adoption."

"Alright. I'll help you."

There was no hesitation in your voice, yet the little heart growing inside beat harder, borderline excited to have an extended stay inside.

Taglist:

@miss-taura @serpentstarr @randomnobody187 @8xbygirl @del-ightfulling @iytatsworld @moonzuzuu @huehuehuehuehehe @ryk-mt @deputy-videogamer @sizeablysized @katitakenway @stealyourblorbos @beingdeluluisthesolulu @death-moth-art @obsessedwithromance @crybabiix @taeecups @tremendouswolfsaladranch @cherrycosmos392 @sbrn0905 @xylianasblog @elgatofx @eepiebeepie @vonev @tatatida @freehentai @scaryplanetdestroyer @minalovesyoubabes @emeloyy @migueloharastruelove @jdbxws @m4dyy @nyxzoldyck6 @fruitychae @francesca-the-1st @siidmm @ana-paulinathe-arts @artyanimi @damhanallagorm @aockskcw @lauraolar14 @what-is-your-wish @oharasfilipinawife @jellyboob @ittybxttykxttytxtty @tian-monique

#miguel o'hara #t writes✨#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x y/n #dana d'angelo #mj watson #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x y/n #miguel x y/n #atsv miguel #Spotify

267 notes · View notes

lyomeii · 11 months

Text

the flower girl

➤ warnings:yandeee theme, platonic relationships, mentioned deaths, the blood curse, mentioned abuse.

➤ request by @cuzwhynottsworld hi hi! LOVE LOVE LOOOOVE YOUR WORK! I was wondering if you could do a yandere platonic my in-laws are obsessed with me with a female child reader? Like say that reader sells flowers to get money and encounters each of the family members in town one by one, and they all take a liking to her, and then they find out she’s an orphan in a bad orphanage and so they decide to adopt her, being careful about the curse and such. Uhh you can choose how it ends! Also stay happy and healthy <3333

➤ a/n: thank you, thank you! I’m really happy with your words girl ;) and I really like writing this one, it’s been a while since I wrote a child! Reader. from now on, I will tag all the new posts with the reader’s gender in order to make things easier to find.

➤ as the streets are getting full due the summer, selphius who is looking forward to buy a gift from his classmate. he enjoys the sunny day, a little girl approach him as she holds a small basket of flowers and asking if he wishes to buy a bouquet, that little girl is you.

➤ with a cute face and sweet personality of your, Selphius brought the entire basket from you and that made you gain a lot of gold coins that day. he was quite happy to see your smiling so brightly. He told both terdeo and pereshati about it, both adult were happy to see the boy enthusiastic about it.

➤ a few days later, pereshati went to the capital to see her friends and unexpectedly, she met you. this time, your cheeks were red due to the bright sunlight hitting your skin. the pink haired brought you a glass of milk and a few sweeties from a bakery nearby.

➤ the two of you talk for a while, pereshati learned a few things about you. both of your parents died in a carriage accident and now, you live at an orphanage in the edge of the capital alongside others children, so you sell the flowers in order to gain money to move out when you grown older.

➤ she is impressed by how mature you are compared to others children in your age, yet she can sense something off this whole story. once home, she told it to terdeo about it, asking if he could do a little research in the orphanage’s background, after all, no children should be working like you are.

➤ the duke did a few background check on the orphanage and well, he wasn’t impressed by what he found. turn out that place not only abuse the children who didn’t made enough money, but sold them by the sole purpose of money. that made him rage and of course, the orphanage was close and the children were sent to better places to live, with the exception of you.

➤ Terdeo decided to adopted you into the family. since selphius enjoys being around you, the man thought that would be great to have another children since islet left for the capital. he loves seeing you act like a real child alongside your new brother. pereshati is relieved that you didn’t reject the idea of joining their family, she likes having you around as another member that doesn’t have the curse.

➤ speaking of the curse, no one dare to tell you about it. maybe one day, you will find out by the worst way or they will tell you, but for now, the family want to keep your mind busy with studies and toys.

➤ unfortunately, the news of the lapireon adopting a girl from an orphanage quickly spread all over the nation. most nobles hate the fact that a little girl from nowhere become part of high society, especially one that enjoy dirtying herself with mud and flowers. there was a few attempts to bully you at events, of course, many children guided by their parents’ words tried to hurt you in many ways, yet you manage to befriend them. however, selphius didn’t like that.

➤ he is your brother. your best friend and only friend. selphius doesn’t want to expose you to the world (too dangerous!), but his pleadings go unheard by his parents and family. even though, they all agree with him, the lapireon fear that if they lock you inside their territory, you will become a prisoner just like the orphanage you once lived.

➤ this new life is easier to you, of course there will moments that will hurt you, they can’t stop those things from happening. however many people know better than messing up with the new member of the lapireon.

@lyomeii stuff || don’t repost

#yandere headcanon #yandere imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere male #yandere manhwa #manhwa x reader #yandere my in laws are obsessed with me #my in laws are obsessed with me #my in laws are obsessed with me x reader #yandere terdeo lapireon #terdeo lapireon x reader #female!reader #female reader #yandere x female reader

733 notes · View notes

fortheloveofkonig · 1 year

Note

Hello, hope you are having a good day/night

I was wondering if I could request Ghost x Male reader: reader is having trouble sleeping due to maybe PTSD so he starts over working around base and working more but forgetting to take care of themself. Reader pass out from exhaustion?

Summary: Your nightmares have been plaguing you again recently and in an attempt to make them stop, you busy yourself with other work rather than rest. Ghost seems to take a notice to this.

Note: I honestly had to stare at this a few times because I know I can do this because...well, relatable but it's scary to write for the first time in a new fandom. Thanks for requesting though! I hope you enjoy it ^^

Content: Mentions of nightmares, implied PTSD, not proofread, this is so short? I'm so sorry! Fluff!?

Word Count: 836

Ghost x Sleepless M!Reader

Nightmares are not unheard of for you. They've happened for a long time at this point and each time they show up again, they never get easier to deal with. How were you supposed to deal with them? It's not like with any of the mechanisms you use to rid of them ever help you, as shown by tonight's restless night of moving around because of an overwhelming background fear of the moment you close your eyes for too long.

After a while of your tossing and turning, you sat up with a huff and ran your hand over your face. Another sleepless night, so you figured you may as well just get up and do something. You made your way to the armory to clean up some of the weapons.

It started as small errands like that until you decided to take on extra paperwork as well as looking over training. It took a few days for anyone to notice that your duties seemed to have multiplied as well as the bags under your eyes.

Ghost was the first to notice. He's dealt with many of sleepless nights himself so recognizing someone else who seemed to be avoiding every possibility at a chance to catch some shut-eye was not very hard to do. He didn't know if he should say something, it wasn't really his place to speak up about your sleeping habits but he also had a deep care for you.

It wasn't until you were the one that approached him that he was pushed to say something.

"Hey LT.!" Your voice was upbeat, too upbeat, as if you were trying to feign that you were well rested and energized.

Ghost lifts his head up from the papers he was reading, only responding with a soft hum as acknowledgement. He figured he knew where you were about to take this.

"I know that you are usually looking over the training and I was wondering-"

"No." He cuts you off.

"What?" You stood back in shock and cross your arms, "What do you mean 'No.'? You didn't even hear what I was going to say."

He lets out a sigh, "I know what you were going to say and I said no. You need to stop taking on everyone's work load."

A huff comes from your mouth as you start to retort but Ghost puts up his hand, which halts any words from coming out of your mouth.

"Rest is what you need to do."

You let out another annoyed huff and turn to leave the room, "but why would he ever listen to me" is the last thing you heard him say as you left for the gym.

You actually spent a good bit of time doing your routine. Stretching, jumping jacks, weights, sit-ups, pull-ups, all of that jazz. Now it was time for the beloved push-ups.

1...

2...

3...

It took an hour for someone to find you but Ghost was the one who walked into the gym to find you snoozing on the floor in his usual spot, to which he just lets out an annoyed sigh but had a disguised smug smirk underneath his mask.

"I told ya, should've went and slept." He says while making his way over towards you.

He assesses the situation figuring that it would probably just be best to pick you up and take you to your bed, rather than waking you up with the chance of you fighting rest again. He bends to pick you up and once you are in his arms, you mumble something indeterminable and grab what you can of his shirt into your hand to which he lets out a soft silent chuckle, but his chest moves silent so that's what sleep deprived you believed it was.

It took only a moment for Ghost to arrive at your bed and he started to softly put you on the bed. Much to his dismay, you didn't let go of him. In fact, your grip just got tighter.

When he reached his arm up to remove your hand, now basically fully bent over the bed just so he doesn't wake you by ripping your hand away, you opened your mouth to quietly mutter, "Stay.."

It took a moment for him to process what you just said but when he realized that your grip was not getting looser anytime soon, he let in and pushed you over some.

"Fine, but only until you are asleep and you can't let anyone know I gave in this easily." He mumbled under his breath and stiffly got onto the bed next to you.

You hummed in acknowledgment before scooting closer to him and laying your head on his chest. After a little while he seemed to lose the tense feeling in his body and relaxed as he watched you fall asleep on him. He didn't see himself being able to move anytime before you woke up from this slumber so he just got himself comfortable.

"Goodnight sleepyhead."

#ghost #ghost x male reader #mw2 x male reader #mw2 #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #x male reader #x m!reader #ghost x m!reader #simon riley x male reader #simon ghost riley x male reader #simon riley x m!reader #simon ghost riley x m!reader #ghost cod #simon riley #ash's writings

658 notes · View notes

wizardrousactivity · 4 months

Text

They Promise. 2

CW: Pregnancy, relationship arguments, reader is fairly young (early twenties)

(Short chapter, trying to make them longer but I've been very busy.) Part | Next>>>

And then again, you remember it all again - A painful birth was ‘gifted’ to you, without anybody there for you to witness your son. What was supposed to be a special moment, you half-near crawled out the hospital with how your knees gave out. If it wasn’t for a good samaritan to give you a pity drive home. “Somebody else drove me home, I felt more cared for when a stranger helped me.”

“You guys are full of bullshit..” You bear witness to the way both get slightly more anxious, it's not told through their actions yet through their eyes - the guilty look that reigned deep in blue and brown eyes.

You move their hands out of the way, biting the inside of your cheek while your lips begin to wobble again. The overwhelming feeling of sadness washing over when you make your way to the once-shared bed, sheets stinking of their aroma still. No matter how many times you would clean and change them.

They kept trying to touch you, just feel you like they used to, but every time their hands moved with their thoughts you would reject their affections. “Why would you do that to me? Am I not good enough?”

The way you respond to everything breaks their heart, yet they can't bring themselves to be collective and respond like they usually do, not in a situation like this. “You can’t just remain fucking stoic- say something!”

König and Ghost remain silent, their tongues going dry inside their mouths, along with that familiar sourness building inside their linings. You sigh, gaze softening. “Why won’t you just tell me anything..?” silent and deprived now. Your breath nearly ceases, unable to take in more oxygen with the way your emotions build up in your throat. “We couldn’t risk you.” Is all that Ghost croaks out, watching you fall apart again at the weight of his words. Watching how you desperately try to carry yourself despite the deprivation of humanity you face. “That's all you have to fuckin’ say to me? I carried this baby for 9 months! I was alone- I gave birth in a hospital all alone!” You retort, the baby continuing to cry in the background - its shrills don’t go unheard, at least to you.

You scurry over to the crib once again to hold your child, embracing it with tears - apologies flooding out of your mouth directly to it, even if it can’t understand you.. “Just.. go downstairs, I’ll talk to you in the morning.”

And with that, they obey. Putting their hands up and heading downstairs as to your wishes, leaving you alone and once again isolated in your room. It’s nothing new, as you sit on your bed numb and tired. Your eyes droop thinking of how it could’ve come to this, should you even have met them in the first place. Were these two charming men you met - the right choice?

You don’t remember their sweetness anymore, the only thought filling your head of them - was how they left you stranded. How one day, they looked at you coldly, something that hasn’t been done in a while.

Sinking into the mattress, the baby rests on your chest. And you doze off, escaping the world you live in. Just to wake up again.

#könig x reader #konig x reader #konig mw2 #cod x reader #konig cod #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley

150 notes · View notes

bakananya · 1 month

Text

Not well written, but the idea was too interesting to just not write it down. I will prolly write a fic on ao3 with better writing, this is just to put the idea out there so I dont forget about it. Just an enemies to lovers Azriel x oc or azriel x reader idea I had, with a lot of random background Idea I had on the character. Its angsty, and not the best meet cute but you know, I got the idea from a dream after I fell asleep listening to look what you made me, I did something bad, you should see me in a crown and therefore I am on loop. Good dream tbh. Anyway enjoy!

"What do you want from me, Shadowsinger?" She spat out, her hatred for his kind evident in her tone.

He tilts his head to the side again, his hazel eyes sparkling in the moonlight. He walked closer to her, his footsteps silent. "Nothing much, just curious as to why a young woman with no records of her existence is going out raiding, massacring and making so much chaos at illyrian camps?"

"They deserved it." She said quietly, but firmly. "If you're here for the women and their kids that are missing, they don't want to be found. They are safe, fed, comfortable and for the first time in their miserable lives, happy." She held her head high at the words.

"That did not answer my question. Why is a young girl such as yourself, carrying out such planned raids and missions? It can't possibly be to no end? What is your purpose?" He paused, giving her a moment to answer, but continued when she didn't. "You have caused quite the ruckus, you know? Become quite a threat." He said again, face still unreadable as he maintains the distance, knowing she could winnow away at any moment, in the cold and chilly mountains. It took months for him to track her once, he could not afford to lose her now.

"I will ask you again, Shadowsinger, what do you want?" She snarled.

"I am just trying to understand why you think a young girl like you is fit to be the judge, jury, and executioner. Justice is not something just anyone has the right to bestow." His words were veiled in amusement, as if all of her carefully plotted plans and raids were temper tantrums of a child, and not a movement in and of itself.

Her eyes glowed as her anger takes over and her magic her magic seeps out from her, uncontrolled and wild. The sheer strength of it had his amusement dying down into a look of wariness. "Do you want to know, Shadowsinger? You find it so amusing, don't you?"

He stares at her for a minute, a dark chuckle escaping his lips as he realized her weakness.

Her wrath.

"It seems I struck a cord. I do not find it amusing, but rather pitiful, you are so young, with so much anger inside you. What a waste."

She stepped closer, her magic thrumming in the ground, yet her words were quiet, filled with a kind of contempt that could only come from years of experience of things better left unheard, and unseen. "They took me from my mother by force, chopped off my wings, used me for their pleasure and left me there to die. An illyrian camp. And no one. Did. A thing." Her eyes were glaring right into Azriel's, her eyes full of all consuming wrath, as her words reminded him of another female he knew.

She laughed, but no humor was present in her voice as she continued. "No one even knew. You and your high lord lived blissfully unaware while my existence crumbled." She hissed at him, stopping just a few steps away.

"I was broken, thought I would never find myself again as I struggled in a lonely cabin I found abandoned in the woods. Felt as if everyday, I was still there, half-dead on the side of the road. Of course I knew living in the cabin was mercy compared to how they treated the women in those camps, like slaves. And thats when a girl came knocking at my door, an escapee from a camp. We decided soon after to create a safe space, for people like us. And the rest is history." She continued, eyes becoming damp at the memory, before shaking her head and smiling slightly, so sweetly. Azriel almost forgot that she had slaughtered a few dozen men a few hours ago.

He tried to reach out silently to catch her as she finally got to a distance where he knew he could grab her, so he could get more information out of her, about things she were clearly omitting, only to realise, that he couldn't move.

He looked up at her in horror as she continued smiling, almost as if it took her no effort restraining one of the strongest illyrians in history.

It didn't, Azriel realised.

"And so we trained. And I took so much pleasure in breaking the bones of men in illyrian camps as we raided them. Saved the women that wanted to leave, took them with us, back to our hideout, expanded it until it became a thriving community. We raided camps and bring people back, who can pick whatever they excel in and work in tandem. It is what I deserved when I had nothing. What they deserve." She smiled, pride shining in her eyes as she now dropped down to sit on a log in front of him, more interested in a white wildflower glowing in the moonlight instead of him.

"Say, Azriel, You're half illyrian, are you not?" She asked, her voice higher, lighter, mocking. "You trained in one of their camps, with your oh so righteous brothers, did you not?"

She did not wait for him to reply, knowing he couldn't. She made sure of it from her magic, taking away his ability to speak.

"You know it as well. Your brothers do too." Her voice was bitter as she plucked the flower. "And yet you choose to hide away in your pretty little city of starlight, ignoring the pain these women go through every day." She finally looked up at him, eyes shining with contempt. "You're just as bad as them." She hissed. "Why shouldn't I shred your wings like your people did to me? Speak, Shadowsinger, speak."

It took a moment for him to realise he could speak again.

Azriel was frustrated, he understood where she was coming from but he could feel his defensive nature for his family coming up. "Rhysand tries. He tries his best to do things for the girls there. There's new laws, there's change. It's happening but these things take time. We are nothing like them."

"You're illyrian, they're illyrian. You saw the suffering of the women there and chose to do nothing about it. You high lord may have put new rules in place, banning clipping of wings, and starting the training of girls. But you and I both know it still happens. All of you do." She shrugged, back to examining the flower. Her face was young still, and her body lithe, Azriel's heart felt a little heavy at the thought of her past, but the anger he felt at being this defenseless in front of a young fae overpowered that.

A dark growl escaped his lips as his jaw tensed, his voice was raspy when he finally continued. "We are trying our best to keep track of it, to eradicate such malpractices comple-"

He was cut off yet again, but this time her voice was louder.

"Well trying is not good enough!" She snapped. "You don't even know it when it happens. You're too busy going on fancy dinners with your inner circle. If you are so good at protecting illyrian women, where are my wings, Azriel?" She hissed as she looked into his eyes as if she was looking into his soul.

He froze at her question, his hazel eyes widening slightly. His jaw was still tense, and he tried to move his body again, failing to do so. He didn't say anything, choosing to remain silent. There was a hint of shame in his eyes as he looked away.

She scoffed as she looked away again as she dropped the flower and stood up again, dusting off her hands against each other.

"Thought so. Anyway," She cleared her throat, putting on a sickly sweet smile. "I am bored and tired of playing with you now. Scurry off, like the dog that you are and tell your high lord I said Hi. I am sure a very interesting gossip session awaits the inner circle tonight." She finished, the end of her sentence blended with yawn that had her stretching her taut muscles as she freed him from her magic and disappeared before he could even get used to the control he now had over his body again.

125 notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 7 months

Note

i am literally for real obsessed with your timberkon pink kryptonite fic so i definitely would love to see another sneak peek, but i'm also loving all the superfam stuff you're putting out!!! something that i wish you would write because i love your works (and have since the darcy lewis stucky days) and i think you would do amazing things with the pairing is jaytim, but i know thats not everyones cup of tea

(i realize now that you were probably aiming for an ask rather than a reply so here it is in your inbox too hskdhsh)

Thank you! ❤️ And oh, asks and replies were both fine for this, no worries. I try to just specify in-post whenever I have a preference but it's not gonna bother me either way.

I DO like JayTim to read, but I've never really felt a particular bug to write it myself? At least not yet, anyway, that may one day change. Though I miiiiight still put Kon in the middle because I am who I am and all, haha.

I'm planning to update the pink K fic on AO3 tomorrow, though I'm pretty sure I've already posted enough of chapter two in excerpts on Tumblr to have posted basically all of it by now and I'm trying to avoid doing that with chapter three, sooooo instead please accept the beginning of this very niche Superfam omegaverse pack dynamics AU instead. I've been looking for an excuse to post this whole big long thing anyway, lol.

Read-more for length, 'cuz there's kind of a lot here, haha.

The representative from the wet nurse agency shows up fifteen minutes early with an unusual-seeming omega who can't be a day over nineteen, being generous. Bruce makes a note to look into the agency's hiring practices a little more closely. The current situation is something of an emergency, unfortunately, and he's only had time to run the intermediate-level background checks so far.

Maybe this isn't the prospective wet nurse, he halfheartedly hopes, and they're just another representative; one who's in training or just here as backup. The kid smells like milk, though, and also why the hell would the agency send out an omega representative? Omegas are typically secretaries and clerks and almost all do in-office jobs, where they're "protected" from the outside world.

The practice is stupid and demeaning and borderline abhorrent, but it's a step up from the days when an omega couldn't get any job that wasn't as a nanny or a sex worker or some fucked-up combination of the two. Clark being an actual reporter is something that was practically unheard of two lousy generations back, and even now Clark is still an unusual exception in his field. Typically, an omega writing for a newspaper would be doing gossip or advice or something domestic, not investigative journalism.

So no, there's no way that this particular omega is anything but a wet nurse candidate, unusual-seeming and concerningly young or not. And Bruce had insisted on the candidate coming to meet them in person, even when the agency had very unsubtly implied that it would be better to just have the milk delivered.

Bruce is absolutely looking into this agency's hiring practices. An omega this age should barely be presented. One who's already allegedly producing enough milk to be a viable wet nurse for what they're requesting . . .

It's concerning, yes.

"Master Bruce, the representative from the Waterton Agency and her associate," Alfred introduces politely, gesturing between Bruce and their guests. He doesn't look or smell disapproving, even in the mildest notes, but Bruce knows he is.

Of course he is, with an omega who might be being either abused or taken advantage of or outright trafficked in the manor.

Bruce should've run a better background check.

"Hello, Alpha Wayne. My name is Ellen Travers," the agency representative greets tightly as Bruce steps into the parlor. She's a harried-looking blonde beta with graying hair who looks very unhappy to be here and is doing a very bad job of hiding the nervous dissatisfaction in her scent.

She doesn't introduce the omega.

Bruce puts on his stupid "Brucie" grin and strides right up to Travers, sticking a hand out to shake. She puts on a weak attempt at a polite smile in return and takes it.

"Hello there, Beta Travers, thanks so much for coming out here on such short notice!" Bruce greets her with a lie of cheerfulness, but Travers continues to smell nervous and upset and her smile is no less forced. And the omega . . .

The kid smells downright sullen, which is not a typical scent to catch off an unfamiliar presented omega and doesn't do anything to make him seem any older.

And yes, he's definitely unusual. He's much taller than Travers–about Bruce's own height, in fact–and has a very broad build and a surprising amount of muscle on him on top of that. Bruce knows full-grown alphas who'd kill to be built like this kid. He's also much more "handsome" than "beautiful", and frankly couldn't look less like the kind of sweet and pretty little things the agency had advertised on their website if he tried, much less the soft and maternal type Bruce had been expecting to actually have show up, given the specific requests he'd made.

Well, it does make sense. Bruce obviously wasn't going to provide the agency with either a Kryptonian genetic profile or a Kryptonian pup's exact dietary needs in search of a suitable wet nurse, but the nutrient requests that they'd made would likely necessitate an omega of a similar build to Clark's to supply–hell, the kid even resembles him a bit, funnily enough. They've already had four agencies tell them that they simply didn't have an appropriate candidate on staff, and the milk samples they'd been able to provide hadn't proven very helpful.

Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, but Martha had at least had the advantage of having a pack bond with him. A packmate's milk always does miles better by a pup than a stranger's or any kind of formula ever could.

Though she'd had some very odd cravings while nursing him, she'd told them. And Clark had still grown up underfed, even with formula and yellow sunlight to supplement–the Fortress had observed marked evidence of childhood malnutrition in him, he'd said.

Occasionally Bruce wonders what a properly-nursed Kryptonian raised under a yellow sun from infancy would've actually turned out like.

The thought is . . . well. A thought.

A thought that still makes him leery of how Jon Kent might grow up, sometimes.

Those concerns aside, though, the really unusual thing about this omega isn't either his physique or his face. Bruce is perfectly used to omegas with "nontraditional" looks after knowing Clark and Diana this long, to say nothing of various other Justice League members or other superheroes and villains he's known, or of both raising and reuniting with Jason. But this omega isn't as demurely dressed as mild-mannered Clark Kent would be; he's wearing opaque sunglasses and an alpha-cut studded leather jacket and alpha-style jeans and an inconveniently inaccessible plain black T-shirt with no sign of a nursing bra underneath it, nothing soft or appealing in either his clothes or his posture. If anything, he looks aggressive; tense and guarded and ready to start some shit. Even Jason usually puts up a temporary illusion of traditional omega mannerisms when he's meeting strangers as a civilian, if only so he'll be underestimated. This kid isn't even pretending to make the attempt.

And the kid smells completely and undeniably stray, too. Bruce can't catch a single note of packscent coming off him. Not even the scent of whatever pup got him milked up enough to qualify for this job. Unbred omegas sometimes lactate in heat or when under stress or if someone in their pack either has or adopts a pup, but a stray who doesn't smell particularly distressed or anything like he's on his cycle shouldn't be producing any milk at all.

At least not without using the kind of stimulants that Bruce explicitly forbade when filling out the agency application, anyway. Those medications are necessary for some omegas, obviously, but in this situation . . .

Kryptonian pups don't respond well to getting anything like that in their milk, they've already very thoroughly learned.

The omega also has spiked stainless steel piercings in his ears, snake bites under his mouth, and two curved barbells in his left eyebrow. All his other jewelry is heavy alpha-styled rings and bracelets, and his nails are painted a chipped black. And he is, notably, not wearing any kind of collar or necklace, and his neck is completely unmarked.

Bruce is in no way oblivious to the obvious message that an uncollared and unbitten omega's neck presents when left so obviously bared. Especially on a stray one who's dressed like an alpha and standing like he's expecting a fight.

He cannot imagine why this kid is working as a wet nurse.

None of the theories that come to mind bode particularly well, though.

"This omega is our most fitting candidate for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, her smile turning increasingly forced. Bruce thinks he can safely translate that expression as that of a beta who did not in any way agree with that assessment but was stuck following orders. "She fulfills all of your nutritional requests, including the necessary iron content and the prioritized fats and proteins, and, of course, is not taking any manner of lactation-inducing stimulants or supplements."

"He," the omega corrects, sounding dubious. Travers's mouth tightens. Bruce knows a lot of old-school traditionalists who won't call a male omega "he" or a female alpha "she", no matter what said omega or alpha's preferences happen to be, and makes another note about looking into this agency more thoroughly.

Much more thoroughly.

"She isn't available for direct nursing, unfortunately, but her milk is a perfect match to your requests and she produces both excellently and reliably; her supply will be more than enough for your needs," Travers continues as if the omega hadn't spoken, and the omega's lip curls in obvious annoyance as he rolls his eyes with no attempt to hide his exasperation even in the presence of an unfamiliar alpha.

Bruce thinks of Jason with a brief pang, and pushes the thought aside. It's not the time.

Maybe he could've asked Jason for help with this, if he'd been a better father. A better alpha. A better . . .

But he wasn't, so now there's an annoyed stranger standing in his parlor instead of a content packmate curled up in their nest.

"Really?" he asks, tilting his head and blinking down at Travers with a deliberately surprised expression. "The consultant made it sound like you'd need multiple donors, for the amount we're asking."

If one goddamn barely-presented kid is actually producing enough milk to even half-feed a Kryptonian pup . . .

"This omega produces sufficient quantities for your needs, Alpha Wayne," Travers replies with another forced smile. She must know how ridiculous a statement that is, when she's talking about a stray kid and not a fully mature omega with at least a couple of litters under their belt who's well-established in a stable pack, but she says it with conviction all the same.

"Oh, good!" Bruce says brightly, because he's supposed to be a stupid knotheaded playboy who wouldn't know a damn thing about nursing either way. "That'll be convenient, then."

Frankly, he only wishes one omega could produce what they need right now, but requesting that much milk from one agency for just one pup would be immediately flagged as suspicious, and definitely turned down outright. They're still looking for other candidates under false names, but at the rate they're going, they're going to need to keep supplementing with formula, which already hasn't been going well.

If Clark could get milked up himself, this wouldn't be a problem, of course. A Kryptonian omega could easily produce more than enough for one Kryptonian pup, especially under a yellow sun. Clark nursed Jon without a problem for years and was actually overproducing when he was, Bruce knows very well.

Unfortunately, that's not an option anymore. Not since . . .

Clark would never forgive himself if something like that happened again.

Never.

And Kara and Karen are both alphas, and Jon's a beta and only ten anyway, and the only other living Kryptonians they know of are either remorseless criminals imprisoned in the Phantom Zone or the sickly little pup who's slowly wasting away upstairs.

Formula and concentrated yellow sunlight haven't been enough. Clark can't get milked up anymore. They haven't been able to synthesize any appropriate supplements either in the Fortress or in working with the Justice League or STAR Labs or even in collaborating between them.

And the pup is just getting weaker, and quieter, and sicker.

A human wet nurse probably won't even help that much, at this point, but . . .

Well, it's the best chance they have to keep the pup alive until they can synthesize something. Maybe the only chance, now.

"We strive to provide to our clients' convenience, Alpha Wayne," Travers says, and the omega rolls his eyes again. Bruce is less and less convinced of him being an adult in any way but the presentation of his pheromones.

It's rude to address an unfamiliar unpacked omega directly, especially as an alpha. Technically Travers is chaperoning them in a professional situation, though, and Bruce has increasing suspicions about this omega's personal standards so far as "manners" go anyway.

And everyone knows Brucie Wayne is stupid and shameless, of course.

So he flashes the kid a grin, and he says, "Well, it's great to meet you, we appreciate you making the trip! What's your name, Mr. . . .?"

The kid blinks at him, clearly surprised both to be spoken to and to be called "Mr." instead of "Miss" or "Ms." or even "Omega". Travers looks absolutely scandalized.

Bruce really doesn't approve of the kind of traditionalists who won't introduce an omega or use their stated pronouns, though, so fuck if he cares.

"Her name is Carly, Alpha Wayne!" Travers interjects quickly, her tone a little bit too bright to be genuine. "Short for Caroline."

"Just Carl," the kid corrects, shaking his head. Travers's mouth tightens again. It's not a very typical omega name, so no surprise.

It occurs to Bruce to wonder if Carl might be a trans alpha, which he probably should've thought to wonder as soon as he saw how he was dressed and got an impression of his personality. Obviously the kid's at least not currently on HRT if he's working as a wet nurse, but that doesn't rule out the possibility of him being transgender all the same.

Actually, affording gender-affirming care is definitely a reason that a kid like this one would be working this job, especially if said kid's family weren't supporting them. Wet nurses make more money than most other fields that omegas without a diploma can expect to get into, at least short of sex work, and Carl is very obviously too young to have graduated college yet.

Actually, Bruce still isn't even sure if he's old enough to have graduated high school yet.

He's going to burn down this whole damn agency if they're knowingly employing a minor as a wet nurse.

"Nice to meet you, Carl," he says easily. Carl's eyes narrow consideringly, and then he folds his arms and smirks, crooked and casual.

"Sure," he says. "Nice to meet you too, Wayne."

Travers looks agonized. The last non-alpha stranger who called Bruce "Wayne" instead of "Alpha Wayne" was a beta terrorist who was in the middle of kidnapping him, and he's not sure any omega who wasn't an active supervillain ever has, so he's not surprised by her reaction.

Carl is still watching him with the same cocky smirk, though, an obvious challenge in the expression and his posture both. Bruce puts another point towards the possibility of him being a trans alpha, though he's not stupid enough to actually ask if he is, especially not in front of someone the kid works under. Presentation aside, Carl might not be out, and Travers is currently at least professionally following traditional manners, so Bruce doesn't have much hope for this agency being all that progressive and doesn't want to accidentally get the kid fired.

Though if Carl is a minor, Bruce is going to have to see if he can't slip him a business card and find him another job. Especially if he's going to be burning down the agency he's working for.

"Why aren't you available for direct nursing, if you don't mind me asking?" he asks in a curious tone, because he still can't smell a pup on the kid and most wet nurses who aren't nursing their own pups do direct nursing, and he wants intel about the agency's typical practices. Carl shrugs.

"Stubborn tits," he replies, pushing his chest out as he gestures at himself with no apparent sense of shame or self-consciousness, and Travers looks increasingly agonized. Bruce is just increasingly missing Jason, himself. "Milk flows too slow and the pups always get all fussy and stress out about it. Which, whatever, pups are weird anyway, they're not really my thing."

"'Weird'?" Bruce repeats, carefully noting the lack of possessives in reference to any potentially dysphoria-triggering anatomy. Still not a confirmation, but another point. Carl shrugs again.

"I'm afraid Carly doesn't bond appropriately with pups, Alpha Wayne," Travers interjects quickly, and Carl scowls at her. "She has an unfortunate detachment disorder."

"I 'attach' fine," Carl grumbles sourly, jamming his hands into his jacket pockets. "I just don't like kids."

Travers grimaces. Bruce keeps pretending to be an oblivious idiot. He has met omegas who don't like children. They exist.

They're just all deeply, deeply traumatized people. Or clinically insane.

Or both, frequently.

So . . . "detachment disorder" seems likely, yes.

Bruce doesn't consider either sex or gender to be the end-all be-all of a person, of course, but there are certain biological imperatives that no one can deny as existing, and a lactating omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–really, just about any omega faced with a theoretical hungry pup–is not ever going to say they "just" don't like kids. Usually the problem with omega wet nurses is them liking kids too much, in fact, and getting distressed or depressed when the parents wean the pups and they won't be seeing them again. The decent agencies have psychological support for that in place and typically offer paid leave between long-term clients. The Waterton Agency does up to a month, which is one of the reasons Bruce chose it.

So yes, Carl is almost definitely traumatized.

Though really, a wet nurse who won't be around much isn't the worst thing, considering. Neither Clark nor Jon started developing any especially noticeable powers until they were older, but they can't assume anything based off a sample size of two, especially when said sample size is made up of biological relatives. And even if they didn't have to worry about that, well, the manor is frequently full of vigilantes and the cave is right underneath it. There's a lot that a regular guest could notice, especially over however long they might need to be nursing. Especially because nursing is a quiet, out-of-the-way activity that takes a while, and it would be very easy for someone to forget to keep their voice down or to not do a damn quadruple-backflip off a chandelier at the wrong moment.

And there's a reason Clark and Lois brought this problem to the shadows of Gotham, as opposed to staying in bright and sunny Metropolis with it. They've got something to hide right now, and a lot to figure out.

Plus if even a molecule of kryptonite gets involved in this situation, even secondhand . . .

Power Girl and Supergirl and Steel are the ones taking shifts watching Metropolis right now, and everyone is just going to leave it at that. Superman isn't coming out for anything less than the apocalypse.

"Well, the Lane-Kents will probably want you to meet the kiddo either way, if you don’t mind," Bruce tells Carl, offering an easy shrug. "Peace of mind, you know how it is."

"Not really," Carl says. Bruce debates slipping the kid a psychiatrist's business card, but he'd probably take it as an insult.

"Er, yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says awkwardly. "Actually, we were expecting Alpha Lane to be with you . . . ?"

"Lois is currently stuck in Metropolis traffic thanks to Metallo bashing up half of downtown this afternoon and Clark is upstairs getting the kiddo around. Little guy just woke up from his nap," Bruce replies with a pleasant smile, making another note of how Travers left off the omega member of the couple's last name, and also apparently doesn't expect to be meeting said omega at all. He is increasingly regretting choosing this agency, though he may yet manage to do some good in the world by subtly dismantling it. Or maybe just by buying it outright and doing a little restructuring.

Or a lot of restructuring.

"Wait, it's not your kid?" Carl asks, wrinkling his nose with a puzzled expression. Travers looks pained. The Waterton Agency isn't Gotham-based, so Bruce isn't sure why she apparently expects Carl to be up on the Wayne pack's current members, especially considering how she keeps talking over and outright ignoring him. Bruce has a hard time picturing her bothering to provide the information herself, at this point.

"Oh, no, just doing a favor for some visiting friends," he replies smoothly, still wearing the same pleasant smile. Which is a lie, of course, because actually the Lane-Kents are part of his secondary pack and "visiting friends" therefore in no way covers what they are to him. The Wayne pack is both his primary and his family pack, obviously, and the Justice League is a loosely-connected tertiary pack, but his secondary pack lacks both an official name and public recognition, because explaining to the public why Brucie Wayne's secondary pack is two award-winning reporters from Metropolis, a random museum curator in Gateway City, a decorated Navy SEAL, and occasionally a cat burglar with commitment issues is just not going to work out for anyone's secret identities.

And that even without counting how everyone knows about Lois Lane and Steve Trevor's respective very public connections to Superman and Wonder Woman, much less ever explaining anything about Selina. Bruce, meanwhile, still isn't sure how he ended up in a pack with any of these people. Clark and Diana definitely have a lot to answer for either way, though.

Mostly he blames Clark. Diana has more decorum. Clark is just . . . Clark, so now Bruce gets a scarf and cookies from Martha Kent every Christmas, never mind that he's technically Jewish, because God forbid he ever tells her that and she starts sending him Hanukkah presents instead. He cannot handle eight nights' worth of Martha Kent's colorfully-wrapped scarves and lovingly-packaged cookies. That's just not a thing he can do.

He doesn't even celebrate holidays, except when Dick cons him into it. Which admittedly he's been doing more often again the past few years, but–

This is off-topic, Bruce reminds himself, but then gets distracted as Carl cocks his head a little and frowns over something. Bruce instinctively wants to brace himself for trouble at the sight, because that frown actually very strongly reminds him of Clark's "what the hell weird and concerning thing did I just notice with my super-senses" frown, but A) Carl doesn't have super-senses and B) Bruce just heard the stairs creak, which means the actual Clark is finally on his way down to meet them. No one else in the manor would ever make the steps creak any way but deliberately except for Lois or Jon, and Jon is out on a walk with Damian and Titus while Lois is, again, currently stuck in Metropolis traffic. So: Clark, definitely.

Also Clark tends to make the stairs creak a lot louder than either Lois or Jon do, given the very notable size difference there.

"Has Alpha Lane authorized you to make decisions for his pup's care, Alpha Wayne?" Travers asks with another forced smile. Bruce is resolving to check specifically her background too, at this point.

"No, no, that won't be necessary, good ol' Clark's right here," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "It's his pup too, and he knows much more about ones this age than I do anyway."

"Yes, well, omegas tend to get a little . . . irrational about the idea of sharing their pups with a wet nurse," Travers says "politely", like she thinks she's stating a fact. Bruce would say something cheerful-sounding and subtly insulting back, typically, but Carl's frown is deepening and he looks a little bit . . . odd, maybe, or . . .

There's a strange little pup-call from the stairs, very quiet and echoing in unusual registers but still recognizably one all the same, and just as recognizably resigned-sounding. It's a pup-call that clearly expects to go unanswered, at this point, which is something that Bruce would like to never hear again in his life, given the option.

Though it's better than a pup who's given up on calling at all, he supposes.

He tries not to grimace at that thought, though he's sure Clark's grimacing enough for the both of them right now after hearing a call like that. The pup is starving, and they just can't feed him properly. At this point sending him back where he came from might be kinder.

Honestly, if Bruce didn't know exactly who his parents were, he might've already insisted on that.

It's just–

The pup calls again, even quieter. Travers looks perplexed.

"Er," she says. "I apologize, Alpha Wayne, but is the pup ill? We can't be around them if they are, it's against agency policy."

"Oh, the kiddo just sounds like that," Bruce replies dismissively, and then lies, "Vocal chord deformity, apparently. We're not sure what caused it, pediatrician thinks it's something genetic."

Well, it is genetic. Jon calls in exactly the same registers, and according to Martha and Jonathan so did Clark.

So it's genetic, yes. Just not a deformity.

Carl's expression looks–odd, still. Bruce isn't sure what to think of it, but it makes him a bit wary. A detachment disorder doesn't imply an actual negative reaction to the presence of a pup, obviously, but . . .

Clark steps into the parlor with Lor-Zod sitting on his hip, the pup no older than two or so and looking small and listless in his arms, his dark skin all washed out and his previously bright eyes gone dull and tired. When he first crash-landed in Metropolis in the rocket he'd been wrapped up inside, Clark said he'd popped out of it energetic and excited and clamoring for attention in toddler-level Kryptonian, but he's been slowly fading ever since, wasting away without the nutrients that they just can't provide him. He's probably only made it this long thanks to the sun.

Again, Bruce has no idea how the Kents ever fed Clark, though he was already at least three by the time they got him, which probably helped. A pup Lor's age is capable of eating solid food, obviously, but milk or formula is still a major part of a pup's diet until they're four or five, if not older, and the longer the better. Hell, most kids still at least semi-regularly nurse for as long as their dam can manage to stay milked up, or even until they present themselves. No one can wean a damn toddler and expect them to thrive.

Or even survive, in Lor's case.

Lor opens his mouth in another weak, resigned little pup-call, and Clark's own mouth tightens as he restrains himself from answering it and giving the pup false hope for milk he just doesn't have, and Bruce steels himself to–

Carl croons.

Travers startles. Bruce is . . . surprised, a bit. A detachment disorder doesn't really imply the kind of omega who'd croon at a pup they've never seen before in their life, after all.

It's an unusual and unpracticed croon, as if it's a sound Carl doesn't make very often, which Bruce supposes would make sense. Lor responds to it immediately, though, shifting weakly in Clark's arms and pup-calling again.

Carl, with absolutely no manners or decorum whatsoever, sweeps right past Travers and Bruce and Alfred and just plucks Lor straight out of Clark's arms. Which–forget the kid calling him "Wayne"; that's a damn etiquette breach. Hell, Clark probably only didn't take Carl's head off for snatching up his pup without permission because he's so clearly dumbfounded that he actually did it.

Bruce is slightly less dumbfounded due to having spent five seconds in the kid's presence, but still, what is he–

"Carly!" Travers chokes in horror. Carl very obviously doesn't even hear her and just starts purring at Lor and cuddling him close in a way that really doesn't even slightly imply "detachment disorder".

And then Bruce figures out what was "odd" about Carl's expression, before.

"Huh," he says, a little bemused. "Did he just go into feral drop?"

"Alpha Wayne, I assure you, this is not the Waterton Agency's standard of behavior!" Travers sputters, sounding even more horrified, and Clark just blinks and tilts his head.

"I think he did, yeah," he says, looking perplexed. Carl continues ignoring everyone in the room except for Lor and just purrs louder at him as they both nuzzle into each other. Lor makes more very distinctly Kryptonian pup-calls at him, and Carl croons back with no apparent concern over their strangeness, sounding absolutely goddamn enamored.

That is definitely not a detachment disorder, Bruce thinks. There is no possible way that an omega with a detachment disorder just went into full feral drop over a pup at first sight.

Or possibly first sound, he's realizing.

Bruce is perfectly aware that omegas can feral-bond with distressed pups whether they mean to or not, but he's never seen it happen this fast outside of a warzone or a natural disaster. He's heard hearsay and read studies about particularly compatible sets that have done it under less stressful circumstances, but distressed and starving pup or not, he wouldn't have even expected a human omega to be capable of bonding with a Kryptonian pup like that.

Or at all, frankly. Deliberately created and carefully cultivated pack bonds are one thing, but . . .

Lor chirps, the sound still a little quiet and fragile, a little weak, but also undeniably hopeful, and Carl gives him a low, rumbly purr in reply and yanks up his inconveniently-cut T-shirt to expose his chest with no trace of hesitation or modesty. He's already leaking sweetly-scented milk, already adjusting his grip on Lor to let the pup get at his chest as easily and comfortably as possible, and Lor latches without a moment's hesitation and immediately starts to nurse.

And then Lor purrs. Carl just watches him with undeniable adoration, still paying no attention whatsoever to anyone else in the room.

Alright, then, Bruce thinks carefully.

Well, that just happened.

"Thought you didn't like kids, Carl?" he inquires casually, putting on an easy grin, and Carl finally seems to come up enough to remember that the rest of them exist, though he still doesn't actually take his eyes off Lor.

"I would literally become a supervillain if this kid asked me to," he replies dreamily, keeping Lor cradled in one arm and tracing a finger down the pup's cheek with a soft, besotted expression that's unmistakable for what it is even with the sunglasses on. He looks like he might just burn down the world if someone tried to take Lor away from him right now, and his pheromones are so all-encompassing and so cloyingly sweet that Bruce genuinely might need to see a dentist after this.

"Well usually I'd say we keep Batman in the loop on that kind of thing around here, but if the kiddo asks, it only seems fair," he jokes with a laugh.

"I would drop-kick Batman off a roof for you," Carl informs Lor lovingly as he strokes his cheek again and then skims a fingertip along the little barely-visible scar splitting his eyebrow. Lor keeps purring sweetly and Alfred coughs to conceal a low chuckle. Clark looks a little pained to be watching one of his pups nurse from another omega so easily and eagerly, but his mouth quirks in amusement at the comment anyway. Bruce doesn't dignify any of them with a response, because he is an alpha with dignity and also is in no way threatened by a passing comment from a barely-presented kid who clearly isn't even combat-trained.

. . . although he also isn't going to be stupid enough to try coaxing Lor away from the omega he just feral-bonded with just yet either.

Then Tim walks by the doorway, takes one look at Carl with Lor, and trips over literally nothing and into a full faceplant on the foyer floor. Bruce pauses, then raises an eyebrow.

"Alright down there, Timmy?" he asks. Tim scrambles back to his feet, looking more genuinely mortified than he's ever seen him.

"Fine!" he blurts. "Fine. Everything's fine. All the things are fine. Uh. What? Who?"

"This is Carl," Bruce says, gesturing to the kid. "Wet nurse from the Waterton Agency. And his escort, Beta Travers. Carl, Beta Travers, this is my son, Tim Drake-Wayne. And also Clark Lane-Kent and his pup, Chris Lane-Kent, who I'm assuming you've figured out are your prospective clients."

"Yes, Alpha Wayne," Travers says with a grimace. "We gathered."

"Ngh," Tim says, looking at literally everything but Carl and Lor. His face is bright red, which is an unusual amount of embarrassment for him to be showing just over tripping. Typically he masks that kind of thing a lot more effectively. Bruce would almost think he was actually embarrassed by watching Carl feed Lor, but Tim's literally never been affected by anything but passing curiosity when seeing a pup nurse before, so that seems unlikely. And he's a male beta, if still an unpresented one, so it's not like he's got any reason to care all that much about it anyway.

So his reaction does seem a little odd, yes.

Hm.

"Chris," Carl coos adoringly down at Lor. Bruce is in no way stupid enough to think that he absorbed any of the rest of that introduction or has even noticed Tim's presence at all. He wouldn't even put money on him having noticed Clark's presence, in fact, except as a pup-delivery system. The kid is very clearly in love with the pup in his arms and doesn't give a damn about any of the rest of them at all.

Detachment disorder. Sure.

#bruce wayne #kon el #clark kent #chris kent #tim drake #superfamily #timkon #lowkey but it's there lol #omegaverse #not sfw #this-was-a-terrible-idea #rinfic #wip: the wet nurse omegaverse

201 notes · View notes