XxBethChurchxX

"Please, I swear I wasn't apart of that group of girls that messed with you at the beginning of the year. I just wanted you so bad I practically begged the teacher to let me tutor you just so I could get you alone to myself."

"You want me?" The mistrust in his eyes evident.

"Are you kidding? I swear I've been holding myself back from throwing myself at you, and then I saw you ride that horse with your dad ripp the other day and I swear I had to sit in soaked panties all day while teaching you geometry. It was hell." You were on your knees on his bed after he moved away from you when you tried to kiss him.

He stood far away with his hands up in surrender and a nervous stutter "look I don't know but I-I." He cleared his throat and in that moment I realized how it looked from his perspective. A pretty girl shows an uneasy amount of interest in him the moment he moves to a small town. But if he knew that I had been getting myself off on just the thought of him. I would cum so hard just thinking about how he would say "Good mornin'." And tip his hat in my direction as he would sit down right next to me.

So Before he started to stutter and fumble some more at the thought that this was some way I was going to humiliate him I decided to show him exactly how serious I was about wanting him. If anyone was going to be humiliated tonight it is going to be me being desperate to get laid. And I am VERY desperate.

If I had time to be slow and subtle I would be but I don't have the time today. So I yanked my shirt over my head before he could complete his sentence. "Listen you might think this is a funny joke but it isn't funny for m-." Shirt off, bra tossed to whatever corner I'll find it at later. I sit on the bed with my tits out and and a sheepish smile on my face.

"Do I look like I'm joking Carter? I like you, I really do. And I'm not afraid to say that I want you." I crawl towards the end of the bed and reach my hand out to Carter. "It's just me and you, and you're a bit overdressed. If you take your shirt off I'll take my pants off?"

You could see the dam in his head cracking. He wanted to give in but I knew about all the stuff those girls did to mess with him? Why? I'll never know. But they messed with his emotions and now All I want is for him to be balls deep inside me and he's standing scared like a virgin. What if I can't convince him. What if he doesn't even want me and I really just humiliated myself? He's my friend and I should have never crossed these boundaries.

The sudden realization that he was standing so far away made my stomach churn. Feeling suddenly so insecure I covered my chest with my arms and look anywhere but at Carter and his dazzling blue eyes.

"Look I'm sorry, Maybe I shouldn't have done this. I don't know what came over me I just- I'm sorry. I'll get dressed and I'll leave and we don't have to talk about-" what he said next made my head practically spin.

"Take your pants off then if this isn't a joke." If I knew that the Deer caught in head lights look I had made him extremely hard then I wouldn't have second guessed myself.

"If you are really willing to take this joke that far then take your underwear off too." He soon realized that this was no joke. He was standing there cock throbbing while the most beautiful girl he's ever seen sits on his bed begging for his attention. If this wasn't some sick joke then this had to be heaven. There was no other way this could be real.

Pants off and discarded I turn my back towards him, I know if I do this right I'll be every boys wet dream. Gently tossing my hair over my shoulder and looking back at him as I hook my fingers in my pink panties taking them off and toss them back at him.

Seconds before his eyes were a bright blue but they darkened as Carter slowly unbuttoned his flannel. I could cum right now looking at him standing there so tall and handsome in a rugged wayy. Just like in my fantasies he was very fit, after all he was a cowboy. I couldn't help but rake my eyes down to the patch of dark hair that led further down. It was a happy trail I was willing to go down.

"Carter I love your belt buckle but It's kind of in the way of what I want. So if you could please take your belt off." His eyes still have a bit of worry but how can he question my intentions when I'm quite literally bare before him.

I can't even be patient because once he has his belt off I pull him close and I unzip his pants. Carter funny enough doesn't seem to understand how or why I'm more excited than him.

Soon his lips meet mine with a desperate passion. Tongues dancing in a foreign way slowly but surely finding a passionate rhythm. His kisses distract me so much that I didn't feel his cock slap on my thigh until I let go of our embrace for a desperate set of breaths.

Despite fighting the urge to not look down I instantly and shamelessly looked. Once I see his dick spring back and hit his belly I know that riding this cowboy will give me saddle sores. If not sores then I can guarantee that I won't be able to walk for a week. How dare he feel shy and embarrassed. Carter doesn't even know it yet but he's bigger than any toy I've ever used on my self. Not to mention the LENGTH, dear God I've died and gone to heaven.

With a smile on my face I watch as he nervously struggles out of his pants and I begin to feel less naked. Once his struggle with his pants are over he looks at me so fucking needing. So desperate yet vulnerable. So afraid that this is a joke but trust me when I tell you that cant be further from the truth. So I kiss him so roughly at first but can't help slow down gently to give the poor boy a chance.

Before I know what is happening he slips his tongue in my mouth and I cant help but feel relieved. It's a tongue in my mouth now but if I have my way in the next few minutes it'll be his tongue in my cunt. I need to play my cards right. I refuse to surrender, Before the day ends I will fuck Carter Dutton.

Slowly I begin to kiss down his jaw, hearing his breath hitch and his whimpers as I go further down his chest leaving gentle kisses. The lower I go the more tongue I use as I kiss my way down his lower belly. Exactly where I want to be. Is it manipulative if I look up at him with pretty fuck me eyes? Well then call me manipulative because behind hooded lashes I lick a stripe up the side of his cock while looking him dead in the eye after my tongue reached the tip. His pre cum was salty but tasted so fucking good in a sinful way.

If you could pinpoint love in one look trust me when I tell you I might have sucked my way to his heart. Hearing him breathe desperately makes me so fucking wet I could die. He was 10 inches hard with a very thick girth but I refuse to be a quitter. So I hallowed my cheeks and bobbed on his length while constantly stroking him and sucking on his pretty pink head.

He looked slightly shameful and scandalized when he finished in my mouth with a very breathy moan and was quickly replaced with his head falling back and his Adams apple bobbing followed by a very deep animalistic groan.

But this boy is so fucking sweet because seconds after he catches his breath he asks "Is it your turn now? Please I really want to bury my face in your pussy.".

Out of breath and only seconds after an orgasm yet here he is eagerly wanting to return the favor. A true gentleman but still I wanted to tease him so I asked if he wanted it to be my turn or his again. A glimmer of mischief shines in my eyes because his answer surprised me. Pulling me up with him he turns us so he switches our spots on the bed. "I would love to eat your pussy if you'll let me, ma'am." Oh god he lasted a long time I need to breath so I don't finish that fast. God I'm desperate but he doesn't need to know that.

He didn't get the chance to eat my pussy right away because I couldn't help but kiss him, it was such an erotic fucking kiss because there was so much tongue. In between kisses our noses would brush so sensually it made wanting him feel like the right choice. I will remember this moment for a long fucking time.

Before long Carter buried his face in my cunt as I buried my face into the sheets, hands gripping the blanket so tight I could swear I was ripping his sheets.

"Oh god Carter please! Yes. Ahhhhhhh!"

I have no idea who taught Carter to eat pussy but they need to be praised for the rest of their lives. His nose was practically shoved in me while he sucked on my clit. Breathing isn't an option at this point, I'm afraid I was not prepared to be pleased in such a manner. He had a torturing method of rhythm where he alternated between licking my clit back and forth and sucking on it. My ass is arched up for him and I'm grateful because my face down on the bed hides my tears of frustration because I genuinely can't control my breath or control my orgasm. Or should I say orgasms!

I look back and I break, the burning feeling in the depths of my stomach I was trying to control burst. Whining and crying was an understatement because when I locked eyes with Carter and he pulled me back further into his face I came instantly. The neighbors 30 acres away could hear most likely hear me cumming on this boys face.

"oh god, Carter please! I can't! No more ahhhhhhh!!! Uuuuummmmmmm please Carterrr!!! Oh GOD YESSS!!!!" But he didn't give a single fuck. I came into his home, used his bad grades to get close to him and bring down his walls to let me in, all for the selfish intention of solely being fucked by him. And I haven't even been fucked properly yet here he has me begging him not to overstimulate me. Well mission fucking accomplished.

Still he refused let me go like an animal with a bone. I swear he growled as he pulled me firmly back to meet his face. His licks became less erratic as did my breathing. But he still lapped at my pussy like a puppy in a bowl of milk. Making me trust his intentions of slowly bringing me back down to earth as he spread gentle kisses on my inner thighs until he plunged 2 fingers into my folds. In and out with swift motions then slowly before speeding up once again only to pull his fingers out and sucked on them. And here I am still on my knees with my ass up and face down. I want this so bad and now that I'm here i want it to last forever.

It feels like this moment last forever but not long enough when I hear "Are you ready?".

Am I ready? I've never wanted anything more in my life. I feel his soft warm head coating itself in my slick before he slowly pushes his way in. Such a gentleman, I just know he'll give me whatever I want, however I want. And I want him to bottom out and he fills me so slowly I adjust and breathe through it but he still knocks my breath out the second he slowly pulls out and shoves himself back in while bottoming out entirely. Hearing the gush of my pussy as he shoved himself back in me has my eyes fucking ROLLING BACK.

I reach my hand back for some fucking reason unknown to me. My palm reaches his lower belly before Carter grabs my wrist to get a better hold on me. In an erotic rhythm he continues to thrust in and out of me while holding me by my arm as leverage. I can't help it as I bounce my ass back to match his rhythm. No, I want see his face when I cum. Correction; I want to see his face when I make him cum.

"Wait, please stop." And he immediately stops. Searching for my eyes to see if I was okay. I honestly don't even want to imagine what I look like from his point of view but by the look in his eyes I know It's a view to behold so I rein in my insecurities.

"I want to be on top, please." My chest is still heaving from being fucked so deliciously. I move back and pull him towards me before roughly slamming him onto the bed smothering his chest with wet kisses. Throwing my leg over is waist and placing myself perfectly on Carter mounting my cowboy. Carter pulls me up closer by my waist and I feel his cock throb underneath me. Breasts pressed tightly against his chest as he meets my mouth in a passionate heated rivalry. Fighting for Dominance with every kiss and his tongue manages to win, giving him the lead.

He halts our kiss to focus his attention and rough kisses on my chest leaving marks all over, I'm going to need to wear shirts to cover up the marks he is making. Fuck, he's marking me up and I know I should tell him not to or to keep it limited to collar bone down but the second his lips go to my neck I moan like a whore. Did he Just lick up my neck? Fuck this is the best day of my life.

"Put yourself back in, now! I can't wait. I've waited long enough please." Tears pool in my eyes due to the overstimulated wherever it be sexual or emotional.

"Oh yeah, and how long has that been?" He mocks and I swear he got cocky with just a couple thrust in my pussy.

"Please, you didn't even want to fuck me like 30 minutes ago !" God now I'm begging like I said I would, what a fucking prediction!

He reaches down and slowly rubs the head of his cock up and down my folds and when I try to sit on it he denies me, that bastard.

"I said tell me how long you've been wanting to fuck me? Answer and you can ride me into the sunset like a happy ending." Blue eyes are a gift from God to everyone but teenage girls. I might as well be whining like a bitch begging because I'm literally willing to spill my guts just to sit on his dick.

"You walked in math Class with that fucking hat on and boots on with that fucking belt buckle all goofy looking. And that was the moment I knew I had to have you. And it got even harder to get close to you after that stunt those bitches pulled. But my dedication got me something didn't it? So please shove your dick inside me and make me cum. Please!" His eyes held that vulnerable look in the beginning quickly followed by that dark lust before he finally liked himself up properly and I slowly pounded myself down. The feeling of fullness was absolutely addicting. My hands found his face to pull him in for a tender kiss that matched the pace I bounced.

If I wanted too I could reach my hand down and rub my clit furiously to cum and I could do it in an instant looking down at Carter. The thing that stopped me from doing that was the hot burning feeling in my stomach that felt foreign, nothing like the toys I've used to achieve a personal orgasm. But this orgasm was fucking mind blowing. He wrapped his arms roughly around my waist to pick me up and slam me down onto him forcing his own pace building up his own high.

Fingers in his hair and my head thrown back while his mouth attacks my neck as we cum so hard together you could swear all the house could hear was the sounds of loud moans and a scream in pleasure.

"Oh god you're so fucking beautiful keep going!" Sounds of wet skin slapping shamelessly followed my moans that I can't hold in for shit.

"Carter please don't stop! Right there! Yes! Yes! Yes!yes!! Ahhhhhhh goddd Carter!!!"

If I had known his parents got home and had come in the house to hear me begging I would have never gave those last few bounces my ALL. Who am I kidding? Yes I would have, it was fucking worth the humiliation.

"oh god Carter." In the room it's silent except the sounds of heavy breath as I stay sitting on him, chest to chest and nose to nose. I leave a gentle peck on his head and meet his eyes. Forehead full of sweat, eyes dilated and lips swollen. God it's a sight to fucking behold.

Like the cherry on top of the best day ever we hear a set of rythmic clicks suddenly, unsure of what the sounds is we lock eyes and instantly fly away from each other.

Beth is home.

I grab the sheet of the bed and fling myself on the side of the bed you can't see when you walk into the room. Carter panics before the door opens and he grabs a pillow to cover his lower half right as the door opens. My heart drops, dear God I thought there was time for me to fuck his brains out before they came home.

"Boy, what in God's name are you doing in here and with who?" Fuck it's his dad! Fuck he's scary but I thought I heard Beth's heels.

Rip and beth see a pink bra and pair of panties at the foot of Carter's bed along with 2 notebooks and a math book and share a knowing look.

"oh uhm nothing, no one." Fucking smooth Carter, I'm literally naked with my thighs coated in his cum hiding on the side of his bed as he stands naked with only a pillow covering his dick.

Fuck it, I've been bold today, what's being a little more bold. So I sit up, curls all over the place exactly like how you'd imagine sex hair.

"We were kinda in the middle of exactly what you think we were doing. My apologies for the excessive volume." Dear God The tension in the room could be cut with a butter knife.

Ripp rubs his forehead like a tired dad and just looks at Beth like "you're dealing with this." And she did.

"Well you and your TUTOR need to get dressed. Dinner is on the table. Take out." With that they retreat and close the door behind them. Carter and I lock eyes and I cover my mouth and giggle. That was such a fucking situation to be in wow.

"OH and wash your hands!" Beth had yelled after walking down the hallway. All I could do was laugh when I looked into Carters eyes.

"Next time can I wear your hat?" The wild look of disbelief crossed his face.

"There's gonna be a next time?" He arches a brow.

"only if you do that thing with your tongue again, fuck that made my head spin." A deep chuckle resonates in his chest.

"Percy," you gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders, nails drawing faint red crescents in his skin. Your head tossed back against the pillow, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he hit your cervix with a force that sent a spark of pure electricity straight to your core. "Oh gods, Percy."

"Shh," he commanded, the sound more of a bite than a shush. He leaned down, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin of your neck. "Just take it. Be a good little mess for me."

The degradation hit you harder than the physical sensation, making your core clench around him in a desperate, needy pulse. He felt it—he felt everything—and he rewarded the reaction with a sharp, stinging crack of his palm against your butt cheek. The sound echoed in the small room, the sudden bloom of heat on your skin making you cry out.

"Again," he muttered, his eyes dark and predatory as he watched the red mark blossom on your skin. Crack. Another hit, followed immediately by him slamming back into you, filling you so completely it felt like you were being split open.

He was overstimulating you, his hands moving everywhere—pinching, pulling, and guiding you—while his lower body remained a relentless machine. He began to stutter-step his rhythm, finding that perfect, sensitive spot and grinding his weight into it until you were sobbing, your heels digging into the small of his back.

"You’re so tight," he groaned, his voice sounding like gravel. He pulled back just enough to look at you, his sea-green eyes blown out, hooded and dangerous. "I’ve got you so worked up you can’t even breathe, can you? Just a shaking, dripping mess for me."

He hammered into you again, harder this time, the bed frame creaking ominously. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him even closer, needing to feel the salt-crusted heat of him. The cabin felt like an oven.

You were right on the edge, your vision blurring, your breath coming in short, jagged little chirps as he pushed you further and further into a mindless haze of pleasure.

"That's it," he urged, his pace snapping into something frantic. "Give it all to me. Break for me."

The door to the cabin didn't just open; it swung wide with the casual confidence of someone who lived there.

"Hey, Percy, Leo's asking about the coordinates for the Mare Nostrum again, he says the Archimedes spheres are acting—"

The voice cut off as if someone had physically clamped a hand over the speaker's throat.

Percy froze mid-thrust, buried deep inside you, his body locked in a rigid line of tension. You shrieked, the sound dying in your throat as you scrambled to pull the thin, discarded sheet over your exposed chest, your face erupting into a heat that felt like it was going to set the room on fire.

Standing in the doorway was Frank Zhang. His hand was still on the doorknob, a piece of parchment clutched in his other hand. His jaw had dropped so low it looked like it might hit his chest.

His eyes were wide, darting from Percy’s bare, sweat-glistening back—still marked by your nails—to your flushed face and tangled hair, then down to where your legs were still draped over Percy's hips. The sight of the red handprints on your thighs and the visible, wet friction between you both made Frank’s brain seemingly short-circuit.

The silence that followed was deafening, save for the heavy, ragged sound of Percy’s breathing and the distant creak of the ship’s hull.

Frank’s face went from pale to a shade of red that rivaled a Roman war banner in approximately three seconds.

"Shit— uh— fuck!" Frank sputtered, his voice cracking an entire octave. He practically tripped over his own feet as he scrambled backward into the hallway, fumbling blindly for the door handle. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I— gods, I'm leaving! I'm gone!"

He slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the hinges.

Percy remained frozen for a long second, the adrenaline of the moment mixing with the lingering, frustrated heat of his climax. Slowly, his head dropped onto your shoulder with a muffled groan of pure, unadulterated defeat.

"I'm going to kill him," Percy whispered into your skin, his voice thick with the remnants of his "beast" persona but vibrating with the sheer awkwardness of the moment. "I am actually going to jump overboard and never come back."

Finn has always been the baby of the family, and none of his family saw him as anything but the young boy he was many years ago. That’s why when they saw Finn in the late afternoon with a little boy, who couldn’t be older than five, they just about had heart attacks. 

There’s no way their baby brother Finn had a kid. He was still a damn kid himself! 

Thankfully, it was John who spotted Finn first and took it upon himself to spy on his little brother. Over the course of a couple of days, John saw Finn with this little boy at the bakery, at the park, and at school. It was at that point that John decided the rest of the family deserved to know.

“Did you see Finn’s kid?” John said after a few too many drinks, after a late night at the Garrison. Arthur, Polly, and Tommy were there, and Finn himself was notably absent once again after saying he had a long day for the fifth time that month; the month was only half over. 

“His fuckin what?” Arthur screamed, slamming his glass back onto the table.

“He’s just a child, John!” Polly interrupted, “Of course, he doesn’t have a kid.”

“I saw him with me own eyes,” John said a little lower, leaning forward with his forearms on the table. “Kid can’t be older than five, but I saw Finn and the kid going round this place. I even saw Finn at the school! I didn’t even think Finn knew where it was!”

“I don’t believe that,” Tommy chuckled lightly for once. 

“Then ask him during the family meeting tomorrow,” John offered.

The next day, everyone was on the lookout for Finn before the meeting. Usually on these days, he would be in the shop. Where was he? With you and Denny.

“Can you please pass the green crayon, Finn?” Denny asked, looking up towards you and Finn from his spot on the floor. He was laying on his stomach, colouring a couple of papers for a class project. Draw something that makes you happy. 

“Sure thing, buddy,” Finn said, leaning away from you to toss the green crayon over to the boy. “Do we get to see it yet?”

“No!” Denny replied loudly as he threw his arms over the paper to keep you and Finn from seeing it. “I’m not done yet!”

“But we don’t even get a peek?” Finn teased, jokingly leaning around to try and see a bit of the paper.

“It’s not ready yet!” Denny argued back as he threw his entire body over the paper. “You can’t look at it yet!”

“Finn, leave him be,” You chuckled, grabbing his shoulder to pull him up to lean back on the couch with you. “He’ll show us when he’s ready.”

‘But I wanna see it now,” Finn dragged out with a smile, showing that he was joking as he leaned his head on your shoulder. “I have to leave soon, and I don’t wanna miss seeing it.”

“Why can you stay every night?” Denny asked innocently, moving his big brown eyes up to Finn.

“I have to work like your mummy,” Finn answered after a second of hesitation. “I have my own place that I have to stay at, too. My bed misses me if I’m gone too long.”

“We should have a sleepover at your house, Finn!” Denny proposed jumping up and throwing himself across your and Finn’s laps. “We could play games. We could go swimming.”

“You don’t know how to swim-” You tried to add, but Denny just kept listing things off over you.

“We could drink hot chocolate. We could have a dance party. We could stay up all night, and we could have so much fun, Finn!” Denny cheered, barely able to contain his excitement as he bounced in your laps. “Can we please, Finn? It would be so fun!”

“I’ll have to see,” Finn responded, not exactly turning it down. “Now, I would love to stay, but I have to go work. I’ll call after and see what you two are up to.”

Denny threw a bit of a fit after Finn left, but you knew it was family business. Denny was too young to understand, but you did this to protect him. His father wasn’t the best (actually he was a real piece of shit by anyways), and Finn treated you and Denny like you were the centres of his universe. You couldn’t take that away from him. You made Denny one of his favorite snacks to cheer him up and tide him over until dinner.

Finn barely made it on time. Maybe he was a couple of minutes late, but they obviously hadn’t started when he walked in. Actually, when he walked in, everyone went silent. Finn didn’t think twice before moving in, going to his normal spot in the room, and leaning against the wall.

“Business first,” Tommy started before turning his full attention to Finn, pointing an accusing finger at him. “You. You need to man up.”

“What did I do?” Finn blurted out, pushing himself away from the wall to approach Tommy. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“If you’re ever going to be useful in this business, the least you can do is man up and admit that you got a girl pregnant,” Arthur added, coming over to clap Finn on the back.

“I did not,” Finn immediately denied as he looked confused between his brothers. They all continued to stare at him, unmoved. “Okay, if I did, I don’t know about it!”

“Like hell you do!” John erupted, slamming his hand on the table. “I fuckin’ saw it!”

“You saw what?” Finn screamed, silencing everyone in the room.

“You and the kid,” John responded. “I saw you and the kid. Don’t play stupid, alright, cause I saw you. Just be honest.”

“Me and the…” Finn trailed off before realizing who they were talking about. It hit him like a ton of bricks. “Wait…do you mean the boy that’s,” Finn paused before gesturing with his hand a height that was right around his knees, “yey tall?”

“Yeah, looks just like you from what I’ve heard,” Tommy answered after watching John nod immediately.

“He’s not my blood, but he’s mine,” Finn smiled more to himself than anything. “That’s Denny. He’s my girlfriend’s kid. The dad was a real dickhead, knocked her up and left before she knew. Been with her since we were 18, and I’ve been helping raise him.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Polly asked, her motherly instincts kicking in.

“I didn’t even know he had a girl,” Arthur chuckled under his breath.

“It’s our work,” Finn defended, “It’s not safe, and the last thing I need is either of them in danger.”

“That’ll do, Finn,” Tommy spoke with authority as he walked up and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re serious?”

“Deadly.”

“Alright then,” Tommy said, commanding the room’s attention. “We expect to meet them soon.”

About a week later, you walked towards the Garrison with Denny’s hand tightly grasped in yours. Denny just got out of school, and Finn had been talking about you meeting his family a lot more recently. You didn’t even opt to stop at your apartment first as you held Denny’s satchel.

“Mummy, are we going to see Finn?” Denny asked, tugging lightly on your arm. “I want to show him my drawing.”

“Of course, we are,” You replied with enthusiasm. Denny got his drawing back, and Denny didn’t want you to see it without Finn, so you were excited to see it too. You rounded another corner as the Garrison came into view, and Finn was already standing outside for you two. “And look who it is.”

“Finn!” Denny shouted, dropping your hand and running into Finn’s open arms.

“Hey, buddy!” Finn cheered as he lifted Denny in the air, while you walked a little slower to them. Finn rested Denny against his hip like a natural and looked at you just as you approached them. “Hey, sweetheart. How was work?”

“As it always is,” You sighed, grabbing Finn’s other arm and leaning into his side. “Are you ready for this?”

“Wait! I want to show you my picture!” Denny shouted, wiggling in Finn’s arms to be put down. He obliged, and you handed Denny his satchel. He dug through it for a second, and while he was doing that, a couple of family members - all of them - walked out of the Garrison after seeing a new girl and little boy standing with Finn. Seeing the little moment in progress, they opted to stay closer to the door and just peek around it.

Denny finally got it out and held it in front of himself proudly as you and Finn took it all in. Your eyes darted to Finn to see him holding back tears. Sure, it was no Mona Lisa (what else would you expect from a five-year-old?), but it was a little stick figure family. A girl with your eyes and hair colour on one side labeled “Mummy”, a little boy who looked just like Denny labeled “Me”, and a boy in a suit and peaky cap labeled “Daddy”. 

“I love it, buddy,” Finn whispered, reaching to pull Denny into a hug.

“I didn’t know how to ask,” Denny whispered back, still slightly afraid as he glanced over at you, “Is it okay if I call him daddy?”

“Of course, you can, baby,” You comforted, leaning in to place a kiss on the top of his head. “As long as Finn-”

“Of course, buddy!” Finn cut you off with a teasing smile as he held Denny closer to him at stood up, shielding your own child from you. “Don’t get jealous now, cause I think I just became the favorite parent.”

“Oh great, my boyfriend and my son against me,” You rolled your eyes at the two, but you held a wide smile on your face as Finn spun Denny around a few more times. Then, he stopped when someone cleared their throat from the doorway.

“Looks like you manned up,” The center one said before turning his attention to you. “Nice to meet you. I’m Thomas.”

~~~~~

The groups heads swiveled to Regulus, who was reclined lazily in arm chair, knees spread, a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. He looked supremely fuckable to you, like he always did.

That's why you've been secret friends with benefits for most of the school year.

You and Regulus were an unlikely pair; Reg, a certified grouch with a distaste for socializing, and you, a gifted student and natural flirt. But you found him fascinating, deeply intelligent and perceptive, with an artistic heart, even if he preferred not to show it. And he found you endearing, infectious in your enthusiasm.

You'd kissed him after a drunken night in Hogsmeade, and he'd sought you out the following day in the library. Now, you snuck away every chance you got, stealing secret moments around every corner, in every classroom, praying your friends never discovered the truth, lest you never hear the end of it.

This was just for the two of you, and you preferred it that way.

“I'm not saying he isn't sexy!” Barty argued. “I'm saying he couldn't be bothered to fuck someone, too busy reading poetry and glaring.”

“And you expect me to, what? Fuck everything with legs like you, Junior?” Regulus bit back.

“No, but like—I’ve never even seen you glance at someone,” Evan chimed in. “You've never talked about fancying someone, or gotten flustered.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow, but didn't comment.

“Nothing shakes him, and he'd never tell you half-wits if he fancied someone because you can't keep your mouths shut,” Xeno laughed.

“It's not like it's anyone's business anyways,” you added, stealing the joint from Barty and taking a puff. “It's his business who he does, or doesn't, fuck.”

“Oh, come off it. He hasn't even had a crush on you, and we've all had a crush on you,” Barty said.

You nearly choked on your hit. “You're full of shit, Junior.”

“It's true! We talked about it the other day!”

You risked a glance at Regulus while you fanned the smoke from around your face, and found him glaring down at his lap, his expression was calm, but you'd long ago learned to judge his true feelings by his pale eyes. And right now, the hostility in them could raze the castle.

That must have been the day he abruptly dragged you from your dorm and into an empty classroom. He toyed with you until you cried, begging him to get you off. And when he finally let you ride him, you weren't allowed to come until you told him exactly who you belonged to. Making you spell out his entire name, letter by letter, thrust by thrust.

Regulus Arcturus Black.

Your pussy shivered just thinking about it.

“Can we get on with the game, please?” Pandora huffed. “It's y/n’s turn.”

Barry grinned over at you, and you groaned. Why on Salazar's shitty earth did you think it was a good idea to sit next to him?

“Truth, dare, or shot, my darling?” Barty asked, his voice a seductive purr.

You really didn't want to take a shot of that lukewarm swill, and you had a hunch of what Barty's question would be: do you fancy any of us? Leaving you with one option.

“Dare.”

Barty’s eyes lit up, and he rubbed his hands together like a supervillain. “You've made a grave error, my dearest y/n.”

“Don't be an ass, Crouch. Play fair,” Regulus warned, the edge of his voice sharper than was probably necessary.

“Oh, you'll like this Reggie, don't worry.” Barty presented his palms to you, like he was offering a gift. “Treasure, I dare you to make Regulus blush.”

“That's not fair!” Pandora argued. “How is she supposed to do that?”

“By any means necessary.” Barty grinned.

You looked at Regulus, who was already looking at you. “I don't want to cross any lines—”

“And when she fails?” Regulus asked, a hint of a smirk on his pretty mouth. Baiting you.

“Then she takes two shots,” Barty wagered.

You looked back and forth between them, all eyes on you. “Deal,” you said, pushing to your feet.

Regulus' eyes widened a fraction, like he didn't expect you to actually go for it, but he vastly underestimated your pettiness. And you would love nothing more than to be the thing that made Regulus finally crack in front of his friends. A tiny consultation for months of keeping secrets.

You sashayed over to him, ignoring the whistles and shouts from your friends, focused entirely on Regulus' smug face. His eyes roamed over you, lingering at the edge of your skirt, the sway of your hips, and you caught the unmistakable sign of his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, and his arrogant expression faltered.

Already, you were making him sweat.

You knew none of your regular tricks would work on him, he was impervious to flirting, but you had an ace up your sleeve.

Carefully, you perched on the arm of his chair, being mindful to not actually touch him, knowing it would bother him to have you so close without being able to touch. He shifted a little in his seat, a fraction closer to you, fingers tightening on his cigarette.

You took a pull from the joint, filling your lungs with its acrid burn. You looked at Regulus expectantly, and he smirked before tilting his head back for you. You leaned in and he parted his lips, letting you blow the smoke into his mouth.

Your friends continued to whoop and cheer, but you focused on Regulus' proximity, the hazy feeling coarsing through your blood.

Merlin, you wanted to kiss him.

Instead, when the last of the smoke left your lungs and entered his, you shifted to whisper in his ear. “Took that hit so well, sweet boy,” you purred, letting your lips brush the shell of his ear.

You felt his body hitch, wanting to cough up the smoke, but he managed to blow it out of the corner of his mouth, casting you vicious side eye. To your delight, you noticed a delicate pink stain was crawling up his neck, warming the tops of his cheekbones.

“She did it!” Evan cheered, and the rest of the group roared in approval.

“Brat,” he grumbled, rolling his eyes. You knew you'd be paying for it later, but it was so worth it to know you had an affect on him no one else did.

You sauntered back over to your seat, smiling ear to ear and basking in the groups praise.

Regulus tried to play it off, but there was no going back now. And you knew he was in trouble when it was finally his turn.

“Alright, Reggie,” Pandora said. “Truth, dare, or shot.”

You already knew what he would pick: Reg hated booze, and would rather run around the common room naked than fess up to something.

“Dare,” he said, taking a bold glance at you.

Pandora caught it, of course, and a tendril of uncertainty coiled in your stomach.

“I dare you to make y/n blush back.”

Regulus huffed a low laugh. “Come on, Dora. Give me a challenge.”

You glared at him, and he winked back. Maybe it was the weed, or his competitive nature, but you'd never seen him so brazen.

Everyone ooooh’d.

“Fine, I dare you to kiss one person in the circle!”

Your heart sunk. Even if it was platonic, a stupid dare, you didn't particularly want to see Regulus kiss someone else. Your feelings for Regulus has grown over the course of the your secret relationship, and while neither of you were ready for labels, that didn't mean you wanted to share him, or vice versa if the night in the classroom was any indication.

Regulus narrowed his eyes at her. “Not everyone consents to being kissed by me.”

“I consent!” They all chorused, and you inwardly groaned.

“What? You've never fucked and you've never kissed someone?” Barty teased, ramping up the pressure.

“Fuck off, Crouch,” Regulus hissed. The game was getting to him, and your friends were feasting on his rare display of discomfort.

You'd feel bad for him if you weren't feeling so sorry for yourself. Reg would probably kiss Barty just to shut him up, and then storm off to bed. Leaving you to decipher his words and actions like every night spent without him there to prove his affection with his hands and mouth.

Shit, maybe this arrangement had gotten more out of control than you realized.

“How the fuck is Sirius such a lady-killer, and his little brother is the virgin fuckin’ Mary?” Barty was too busy laughing at his own jokes to notice Regulus get up and prowl across the circle towards him.

Barty finally noticed when Reg was almost on top of him, but at the last second, Regulus pivoted. His hand shot out to grab you by the hair, roughly tilting your head back for the bruising kiss he planted on your unsuspecting lips.

You squeaked in surprise, but quickly gave way for him, melting under his firm, insistent mouth as his tongue delved between your teeth to taste you.

As quickly as he swept in, he was gone, leaving you wide eyed and breathless as he stalked back to his seat and dropped into it, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“What was it you said? ‘Y/n has the most gorgeous mouth you'd ever seen’?” Regulus said, a mocking edge in his voice. “That you'd ‘give anything to taste her'?”

Barty gaped like a fish.

Regulus smirked. “I’ll have that left bollock now. And I'll take the other one if I hear my girl’s name on your mouth again, you prick.”

Everyone gasped, including you, but Regulus didn't even flinch.

“Understood?” He glared at Barty, then the others, until each one of them lowered their eyes in submission.

Regulus beckoned you forward with two fingers and you jumped up, crossing the space between you and allowing him to pull you into his lap. He threaded his fingers through your hair, pulling you in for another kiss, little more than a peck, but it still made your head spin.

“So, secrets out?” You asked, meeting his eyes.

Regulus shrugged, pecking your cheek. “It doesn't change anything,” he murmured, kissing the corner of your mouth. “I’m yours.” He kissed your nose, your temple, your lips, down your neck, until all of your friends dispersed, making disgusted noises as they fled such a public display of affection.

But you couldn't be happier, grinning like a fool as you basked in a thousand not-so-secret kisses.

You jab your own cheeks for emphasis, fingers pressing into the softness just beneath your eyes, and the room erupts into snorts and muffled laughter, your so-called friends delighting in your apparent delusion.

But you know the truth. You have seen them—the delicate crescents that carve themselves into his cheeks when he smiles in that unguarded way, soft and fleeting, like moonlight filtering through darkened leaves. It is a secret you hold close to your heart, something sacred and untouched, for Regulus Black is not supposed to smile like that. Not according to them.

To everyone else, he is sharp lines and cold eyes, distant and unyielding, a boy forged from winter’s breath and brittle starlight. His name drips from their tongues like a warning, a reminder of ancient bloodlines and whispered expectations. But you know better. You have seen the way his eyes soften when you laugh, the way his hands hesitate before touching yours as if afraid he might shatter something precious.

Regulus Black, to you, is soft edges and hidden warmth, tenderness folded into the corners of his smile, something gentle and achingly beautiful beneath the surface. They could not see it, would not believe it, but you did. You always did.

"Darling," James begins, slipping into his most condescending tone as he tilts his glasses down the bridge of his nose to peer at you properly, eyes alight with mischief. "I’ve known Reggie since fourth year, and not once have I ever seen a dimple. Not even a suggestion of one."

He is wrong, you think, pressing your lips together to keep the secret tucked safely in your heart.

They do not know the way Regulus looks at you when no one is watching, how his gaze softens like the edge of dawn, or how his laugh—rare and unbidden—blooms like a flower in the dark. They do not know that Regulus Black, for all his coldness, holds sunlight in his smile, and you are one of the very few who has ever been allowed to see it.

"That’s because you’re not paying attention," you shoot back, arms crossing defensively. "He does this little smile sometimes, it’s soft and kind of lopsided, and there’s this tiny dimple right here—" you poke your cheek again, more insistently, as if the physicality might convince them. "I swear, it’s like magic."

"Or madness," Remus suggests mildly, and Mary dissolves into laughter, her curls shaking as she leans further into him.

"I mean, we’re talking about Regulus Black here, right? My-face-is-carved-from-stone Regulus Black?"

"Maybe it’s just a shadow," Sirius chimes in, inspecting his nails with a grin that teeters on smugness. He hardly even glances up, as if the matter is too trivial for his full attention.

"A trick of the light. Or you’ve been hexed. Definitely hexed. I bet it’s a dimple jinx. You see fake dimples, fall madly in love." His grin widens, eyes glinting with mischief, and the others snicker at the notion.

"I have not been hexed!" you cry, voice pitching higher in your indignation, but your outburst only seems to spur their laughter further.

The sound spills into the room like the crackle of firewood, unrestrained and merry, and you stand at the center of it all, defiant and unyielding. "I’m telling you, I’ve seen them. He has dimples!"

"Right," James nods, his expression shifting to exaggerated seriousness as he claps a hand on your shoulder, eyes sparkling with that brand of Marauder mischief that rarely bodes well.

"And I’m secretly the heir to the Malfoy fortune."

"Stop it." you protest, your hands flying to your hips as if that might root your argument more firmly in truth.

"He has dimples. If you look closely, you’ll see them!"

They laugh again, the sound bubbling up like champagne flutes clinking together, indulgent and disbelieving. But you only hold your ground, chin tilted upward with all the stubbornness of someone who has glimpsed something magical and refuses to let it be reduced to smoke and shadows.

Because you know. You have seen the way Regulus’s face softens when he lets his guard slip, how those tiny, secret dimples blossom at the edges of his smile like something fragile and hidden from the rest of the world. It is not a trick of the light, not some fleeting mirage conjured by wishful thinking.

It is real. He is real. And maybe, just maybe, they have never looked closely enough.

"He does not," Sirius says flatly. "I would know. I’ve seen that miserable mug for seventeen years straight, and not once has it ever hinted at joy. If he’s smiling for you, you might want to check if he’s choking."

"You don’t know everything about him," you snap back, and it’s a bit more pointed than you intended, because Sirius’s expression shifts for the briefest moment, but then he’s back to smirking, one brow arched.

"Oh, I know enough. And I know that my miserable little brother is physically incapable of producing dimples. It would require smiling first. Which is practically illegal for him, by the way. Pretty sure he signed a contract with Death himself."

"He does smile," you argue. "Just... not around you lot."

Mary’s eyes light up at that, and she sits up a little straighter, nudging Remus. "Not around us, huh? Just around you?"

You hesitate, heat creeping up your neck. "Well… yeah. I suppose." At their expressions, you quickly add, "That’s not weird!"

"It’s a little weird," Remus says thoughtfully. "I mean, I’ve never seen him smile like that." He looks to Sirius for confirmation, who just shakes his head.

"Me neither," Sirius agrees. "And if he was going to be grinning like a lovesick idiot, I feel like I’d know. Or maybe you just have some sort of freaky dimple-seeing ability. Is that a thing? Can we get that checked?"

"Maybe he only smiles for her," Mary sing-songs, and you swat at her, cheeks blazing. "What? I’m just saying!"

You cross your arms tighter over your chest, frustration curling hot and sharp beneath your ribs. You know what you saw. It wasn’t magic or shadows or madness. It was Regulus, soft and unguarded in a way that felt almost secret. A piece of him reserved just for you, like a glimpse behind the curtain of a play only you were meant to watch.

But they wouldn’t believe you. They couldn’t. Because to them, Regulus was all sharp edges and cold stares, impenetrable as stone. But to you, he was something else entirely.

You saw the parts he kept hidden—the softness, the ache, the way his eyes would linger when he thought you weren’t looking. The way his fingers brushed yours just a bit too long when he handed you your books, the way he stood a little closer than necessary when you walked side by side. His dimples were proof of it. Proof of the parts of him that were gentle and real and yours.

"I’m not making it up," you murmur stubbornly, softer this time, almost like you’re telling it to yourself.

James leans back, stretching his legs out in front of him. "You know, I almost want you to be right. I’ve never seen Regulus with dimples before. I think it would break my brain."

The room is still shaking with laughter when the portrait door swings open. It is a subtle thing, just the soft groan of hinges and the hush of movement, but you feel it like an echo in your bones. Your gaze snaps up before you can help it, the breath stalling in your lungs as if caught between heartbeats.

There he is, Regulus Black, framed in the doorway like he has stepped out of a painting, shadows and light playing across his features in sharp relief.

He is ice and elegance, his gaze sweeping over the room with cool detachment, the sort of look that makes even Sirius go still. His brother’s grin falters, an instinctual pause as if the air has been sucked from the room.

Regulus’s eyes flicker over them, James’s raised brow, Sirius’s smirk half-frozen in place, Remus’s unbothered calm, but there is nothing there, not even a nod of acknowledgment. His expression is marble-carved, beautiful and unyielding.

But then his gaze finds yours, and it softens, melts like snow beneath the first touch of spring. His eyes brighten, lips twitching at the corners, and suddenly it is like you are the only two people in the room. The change is breathtaking, the kind of transformation that feels like stepping into sunlight after days of rain.

Without thinking, you are already moving, feet carrying you across the room as if pulled by some invisible thread.

"Regulus," you breathe, and the way his name falls from your lips feels like unspooling thread, like the first sigh of spring. His expression softens entirely, something delicate and aching sparking behind his eyes as you practically throw yourself into his arms. He catches you easily, arms winding around your waist, steady and certain, like he has been waiting for you his entire life.

Your hands are in his hair before you realize it, fingertips grazing the base of his neck as you pull back just enough to look at him properly. His smile is still there, still hovering at the edges, and it is soft and real and yours.

"I missed you," you whisper, half a confession, half a prayer, and as soon as the words leave your lips, it happens.

A tiny crease, delicate and almost imperceptible, blooms on his left cheek, like the first hint of dawn breaking over a dark horizon.

A dimple, soft and secret, there and gone in a heartbeat, as if it only exists for you.

"I missed you too, amour," he murmurs, his gaze flicking over your face like he is memorizing it. "You have no idea."

There is a tension in the room, thick and breathless, as if the very walls are leaning in to listen, the crackle of the fire muted under the weight of disbelief.

The Marauders and Mary are watching with wide eyes, suspended between fascination and utter incredulity, as if the scene before them is too tender, too impossibly soft to be real.

Regulus Black—aloof and unyielding, frost-kissed and sharp-edged—is holding you like something sacred, his arms wrapped around you with a gentleness that seems to contradict everything they thought they knew of him. His thumb brushes across your cheek, feather-light and reverent, as though you are made of something finer than bone and breath, something worth protecting.

And then he smiles—just a fraction more—but it is enough.

You do not even realize what you are doing; your body moves before your mind catches up, and you lean up to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and soft and so achingly familiar it feels like slipping into an old memory. He blinks, eyes flickering with surprise, but you do not pull away.

You lean in again, pressing your lips to his other cheek, right where his smile deepens, and it happens—a twin to the first, blooming on the opposite cheek as if coaxed into existence by your touch alone.

A second dimple, tender and unmistakable, carved into his pale skin like it had been waiting there all along, hidden just beneath the surface.

You are not the only one who notices.

Behind you, there is the unmistakable sound of someone choking on their own breath, followed by a very loud, "What the hell?" from James, his voice pitched somewhere between awe and utter disbelief.

Regulus glances up, his gaze catching on James, who is staring as if he has just witnessed stone turn to gold, like magic itself has unfolded right in front of him.

Sirius is uncharacteristically silent, eyes narrowed in something akin to suspicion or maybe even wonder, while James’s jaw is completely unhinged, glasses slipping precariously down the bridge of his nose.

Remus is blinking rapidly, as if trying to clear away a mirage, mouth slightly parted in surprise. And Mary—sweet, sharp-eyed Mary—looks positively gleeful, her grin spreading slow and wicked as she nudges Remus sharply in the ribs, her eyes dancing with triumph.

"I told you," she mouths, lips curving around each word with delight.

Because it is true.

There is no need to look closely, no need to squint or peer beneath shadows—Regulus Black’s dimples are right there, clear as daylight and twice as warm, so stunningly visible that they might as well have been carved out of starlight.

They blossom wide and unguarded, softening the sharp lines of his face, and for a heartbeat, he is not the boy forged from winter’s chill and midnight silence. He is something brighter, something softer, and it is plain to see that with you, he is allowed to be gentle.

"I told you!" you practically crow, turning back to face them while still locked in Regulus’s arms. "I told you he has dimples!"

Sirius remains silent, watching with something like suspicion, but James looks like he has seen a ghost.

James is still staring. "I think I need to sit down."

"You are sitting down," Remus points out.

"I think I need to sit down lower," James clarifies faintly.

But you are not paying attention to them anymore, because Regulus is looking at you with that same impossible smile, both dimples still lingering like promises.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb stroking a gentle line across your skin. "You told them about my dimples?" he asks, voice low and edged with amusement.

You nod, breathless and unashamed. "I did. And they did not believe me."

His smile softens, stretching wider, and both dimples deepen like secret doorways to some hidden softness that only you are allowed to see.

He leans in, the space between you shrinking until his breath mingles with yours, and his voice drops to a low, velvety murmur meant only for you.

"You really should not spend so much time with Gryffindors," he whispers, his tone laced with quiet disdain that is more habit than heart, though his gaze remains warm and unyielding, crafted entirely for you. "I think they are starting to rub off on you." His eyes glimmer with amusement, but there is something else there too, something tender that settles in the quiet curve of his smile.

Your laughter spills out, bright and unrestrained, like the first crack of sunlight through winter clouds, and before you know it, your hands are tugging him closer, closing whatever space remains.

In that moment, it is just you and him, suspended in the fragile stillness that belongs only to the two of you, where the rest of the world feels distant and unimportant, something to be dealt with later.

For now, there is only this: his smile, his dimples carved like promises into his cheeks, and the gentle, unwavering warmth of his arms around you, holding you close as if he is terrified of letting go, as if this is a vow whispered into the spaces between heartbeats.

The truth is, Sirius had always known that Regulus had dimples.

He had known for years, had seen the faint creases carve themselves into his brother’s cheeks on the rarest of occasions, like fleeting whispers of a softer world beneath the ice.

But the thing is, those dimples only ever appeared when Regulus was around you, when your laughter spilled into the room like sunlight or when your name slipped from his mouth with that unguarded tenderness that seemed to unravel something deep and hidden in him.

You've had a crush on Lils since the day you met her, but now, well now you have her, and you just can't get enough. You've fallen so deeply into infatuation with the girl that your cheeks heat even thinking about her.

Okay maybe you're freaking out right now too. But its different because you're older...and the sight of her bra-less tits directly level with your face evokes a very different heat to develop.

Everytime she shifts even a little, they move, and if you brush them ever so slightly on 'accident' her nipples harden. Soon all you can think about is kissing, sucking hickies and completely having your way with them. The pretty noises she'd make.

A slight tug on your hair brings you out of your sick and perverted daze, "Y/n, baby are you even listening to me?"

It takes everything in you to refrain from burying your head in her chest out of embarrassment. "M'sorry Lils, just distracted."

You see her irritation subside at your doe-eyed appearance, realizing the unintended torture she's been putting you through for the past ten minutes. "Aw princess, you feelin' subby for mommy?"

"Well - I want - cause- and you-" you cut yourself off by tugging harshly on the very thin, very see through white tank top she's unintentionally been teasing you with.

The movement provides enough stimulation to have Lily gasp, which leads to you hiding your heated face into her chest, mouthing sloppily at the top her pretty tits poking out of her tank now.

When she makes no further movements or demands you begin fall deeper into subspace. "M-Mommy please jus' wanna make you feel good!"

When you hear her moan quietly you take it as your sign to keep going, leaving hickies on her breasts and lower neck as you make your way to her lips. With the help of her guidance and tugs on your hair of course.

But before you can give her the kiss you've been waiting for she slips off her small and in your opinion, quite burdensome tank top, leaving you breathless and flustered as ever.

She has to bite her lip to stop herself from giggling at your zoned out expression. She's about to tease you about it when you attatch yourself to her left nipple, teasing the other with your fingers.

In the end all she can get out is a few praises. "Mmm-good girl, such a good girl, making mommy feel so good-"

You don't know how long you stay like that, only slightly registering the passing time as she begins to grind down on your thighs. Her mini skirt providing very little barrier between your jeans and her clothed cunt. You here her praises and demands that you help her go faster but, again you're so focused on her beautiful tits its not until she's come twice that you look up.

And even then when you do its cause she pulls back your head, causing you to whine, ordering you to pull off your shirt and pushing you so you lay flat on your back.

She makes quick work of stripping you of your jeans and panties, teasing your clit as soon as they're off, which makes all sort of profanities emit from your small mouth.

"You're so wet f'me princess, how long were you perving on mommy's tits? So dirty, my pretty girl."

Her words almost make you cum right there and then, barely touched and pathetic as ever. "I-I wasn't p-perving mommy, jus' needed you and mmph-"

Your pathetic excuse for in fact perving on your girlfriend is lost as she plunges two thick fingers into your pussy. "No? So if you weren't staring a mommy's tits, then you were listening right? What did mommy say?"

Your mind is so fuzzy you barley register she's asked you a question, until she pinches your clit to get your attention back. "I-I-you were talkin about mmmph-"

She's edging you with no mercy curling her fingers perfectly to hit your sweet spot and switching between playing with your clit with her other fan and sucking on it with her pretty lips. "What was that baby? About what?"

You throw your head back, arching your back as you get closer to your orgasm, moaning as she circles your little bud with her tongue. Your hands immediately grab on to her red locks, fighting between pushing her closer and pulling her away.

"About-ah-the t-test in Slughorns class- ah fuck! Needa cum, mommy,mommy-please let me cum! Please, please, please-"

Your begging is so cute, Lily is easily convinced to let you, bringing your to your end with her soft and dirty words. "Go ahead princess, cum on mommy's face, make a mess on my fingers, be a good girl, you can do it."

Your orgasm tumbles over you like a wave of pure pleasure, white and hot, with you screaming out her name and arching your back off the bed. You're still recovering as Lily sits you to straddle on her lap.

When you blearily open your eyes you're still facing her tits, due to your height difference. But this time you see a white iridescent and sticky substance smeared on them, and with a sudden realization you know exactly what she's done.

With a smirk on her face she orders you once again, not missing a beat:

Someone pulls his sleeve, probably Lily—and soon he’s being shepherded to a storage room, the smell of stale beer and dish soap momentarily snaps him out of his thoughts, blinking as quick as the flickering fluorescent lights above him. When he focuses his gaze, you’re staring at him so openly panicked his heart twists painfully inside his chest.

“I told you not to come in, James,” Lily seethes, pacing with her hand pinching her nose. “I specifically told you for a fucking reason.”

“You knew?” he turns to Lily, who halts, hand dropping to her side. “You knew all this time?”

“Not willingly,” you explain quickly. “She found out pretty recently as well. It was an accident.”

“How long has this been going on, Ev–fuck. Am I even allowed to call you that?” he frowns. “What am I supposed to call you now?”

You sigh dejectedly. “I’m really sorry,” you wet your lips, already chapped from the amount of times you’ve done it. James feels yet another pang in his chest—he’s not sure what they mean anymore. “You were not supposed to know, none of you.”

“To know what? That you’re not a bloke? That you infiltrated a government building with a made up name?” he asks, trying to ignore the way you flinch with every question he fires at you. But his heart can’t, some things are hard to shake off. “Was there a point to all that anyway? Or just to get a laugh out of it?”

“Of course not,” you shake your head, trembling hands wringing in front of you, then behind your back. Like your brain has stopped functioning in your favor. “None of this was supposed to happen. I didn’t mean to…” you swallow. “I didn’t mean to get in so deep.”

“You didn’t mean to?” he repeats, tone bordering in disbelief. “Then what was the point of this… this insanity?”

“I wanted to see my brother,” you blurt out, words spilling out hurriedly before your head can realize what you’ve done. “I wanted to see him again and ask for his help–I didn’t know how… I thought…”

“You thought what?”

“I thought he’d recognize me by now, okay?” you snap, looking away from his inquisitive stare. To their surprise, but mostly yours, an unexpected fire ignites inside of you. “I thought it’d be a quick thing, get in, see him, ask for help and leave you to be–I didn’t ask for this to turn into a whole fucking thing!”

“y/n,” Lily steps in, hand at your shoulder that is very faintly shaking under her touch. “Lower your voice, someone can hear.”

“So what?” you roll your eyes, passing a hand over your eyes, stopping tears that haven’t even left your waterline. James wets his own lips at the sight. “It’s over. Can’t you see? He’ll go out and tell everyone. Especially Sirius.”

James parts his lips to speak, a question in his lips as to why he would tell Sirius of all people, but Lily is quick to silence him with a glare. 

“He won’t,” she shakes her head, mostly like a command rather than a suggestion to him. “This will continue staying a secret like before, just–well, James knows too.”

“Oh, do you seriously think I’m an idiot?” you frown at her. “It’s not my first time seeing him ruin my life.”

“What?”

You screw your eyes shut, looking away before your mouth can betray you once again. But James takes a step closer to you, his arms dropped to his sides as he searches for your lingering gaze.

He exhales sharply. “y/n.”

“You have to go,” you shake your head, reaching up to hold your elbows tightly. “Do whatever you want.”

“What did you mean by that?” he presses, bending to search for your gaze. His breath hitches at what he finds–eyes watering with furious tears.

“I remember that night when Sirius escaped. You were there.” 

Your words land like a thunderclap in the room, sticky walls closing in on James as he feels what remains of his heart cracking at your fury, and worse–a resentment neither of you knew still existed. His eyes land over your face, flashes of memories morphing in front of him the longer you hold his gaze, your lips trembling and hands braced over your elbows exactly like the last time he saw you. 

“I remember,” he whispers, barely audible with the pounding music coming from the pub. “I… I remember but we thought–I thought…”

“You thought what? That we were dead?”

The accusation lands like a missile in his chest, opening the door to endless realizations that continue gnawing at him as each second passes. Your similar appearance, how he thought Evan looked awfully similar to Sirius’ younger self, his insistence to talk back at any authority—you were there all along. In plain sight. 

“You’re Sirius’ sister,” he says, words as heavy in his tongue as they feel in his chest. “You’re–”

Lily groans in exasperation. “Are you being purposely stupid?” she snaps. “Who do you think she meant?”

“I thought your brother was a… soldier, someone from the castle!” he splutters, feeling his own sanity slipping from him the longer you stand in front of him with those eyes that are now starting to appear awfully similar to ones he knows well. 

“Well,” you wet your lips, letting go of your elbow to tug at phantom hairs behind your ear. God, have your roots always been onyx black? And have your mannerisms so quintessentially Black? “Jesus, how many times do I have to go through this again? My name is y/n,” you pause, making a point of searching for his gaze. “y/n Black.”

A beat.

James doesn’t answer right away. 

His brain halts at your words, trying to give them shape and bringing them into life before him–a name that he long past considered a legend, something that haunted Sirius. And yet… here you are, staring at him with such defiance he’s starting to feel guilt gnawing his insides at how painfully blind he has been all this time. 

“You’re…” he shakes his head. “You’re actually serious?”

You shift your weight. “I told you,” you mutter, cutting quick glances at Lily. “You weren’t supposed to find out this way–or at all. Preferably.”

“At all?” James doesn’t mean for his voice to sound as harsh as it does, and he’s almost sorry at the way you cringe. But his heart has moved past the disbelief straight to betrayal. “You lied to me. All this time I thought… I was training someone I barely knew!”

Lily inhales sharply, hand already braceleting his wrist to pull him out the storage room. “James,” she snaps. “Not now.”

“Not now?” he echoes in disbelief, staring between you and Lily like you’ve grown three heads each. “She infiltrated under a fake name. Do you have any idea what could happen if–”

“Don’t you think I know?” you snap, eyes wide with dread at his implication. At what it’d mean for you and your brother. “I knew the risks, alright? I’m not as stupid to barge in and demand things.”

He exhales, pushing his glasses up in frustration. “What did you need help with anyway? Pay for your studies?”

“What is it to you?” you scowl at his jab. “Just now you were calling me a traitor.”

“I didn’t–”

“Alright,” Lily steps in, purposefully raising her voice a few decibels to subdue the upcoming argument. “This is not the time to do this. James, I’ll explain everything to you–or her, however you want to proceed but no one can know.”

He gawps, yet another argument sizzling in his tongue that dies as soon as Lily turns to him with a fiery glare. James passes another hand through his hair in exasperation, watching as you swallow thickly in nervousness at their silent conversation.

When she deems him properly chastised into silence, Lily turns to you. “Go home, tell Regulus what happened and text me what you decide, okay?”  

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Regulus?!” he repeats, once again in shock. “He’s here too?”

“Jesus fucking christ,” you and Lily say simultaneously. 

“Why do you think I’m doing this in the first place?” you frown, not casting him a glance as you cross your arms. “He needs my help, and the money.”

He looks at you again, really looks. Hazel eyes scanning each centimeter of your face in search of any hint that you’re putting on an act. But as you hold his scrutinized gaze, you can see the exact moment his indignant fury turns into something worse. Pity. 

“Does Sirius know?”

“No.” you say immediately, bordering on desperation as your eyes widen. “He can’t know.”

“He will,” James shakes his head. “He will find out soon enough.”

You drop your arms, turning to fully face him now. All it does is cause his heart to skip a beat at your–whether unconscious or not, he can never know with the Black siblings–menacingly calm reaction. 

“You’re going to tell him, aren’t you?”

“You can’t expect me to lie to him, do you?” he frowns. You nod, and he feels an inexplicable pang in his chest at your obvious disappointment. “He’s my brother, I can't lie to him.”

You snort. “Your brother, right. I forgot,” you fold your arms, sidestepping him as you walk deep into the storage room. “Well then, whatever you decide, let me know before tomorrow night. Goodnight.”

Lily frowns. “y/n.”

But you’re already opening the exit door, not once casting them a glance over your shoulder as it closes behind you. 

…

Sirius flicks ash off his cigarette, watching in silence as it falls over the wet cobblestone and vanishes at contact. He exhales the smoke from the corner of his lips, tapping absentmindedly as he listens to the faint whispers coming from his side–Mary and Marlene gossiping about here and there, things that have lost his interest the first five minutes. 

A sickening preoccupation settles in his chest the more he stares at the window, at the heads moving inside the pub and the bodies blocking his view of the bar–where Lily and Evan had been conversing amicably before James intercepted it with his typical need to confront things head on. 

“What’re you thinking about?” Remus murmurs, waving the smoke coming off his lips as he moves to stand in front of him. Unknowingly blocking his view of the pub altogether. 

He gives his cig a puff. “Just thinking about how much of a plonker James is,” he shrugs, feeling yet another pang of fondness blossom in his chest at Remus’ growing smirk. “Really went in there to flirt with Evan–no wonder the poor boy fled.”

“You know Prongs,” Remus laughs, shaking his head with equal fondness. “Always wearing his heart up his sleeve. Reminds me of someone.”

Sirius lets out a laugh. “Hope you don’t mean me, remember how long it took me to even talk to you?”

“Oh, I remember,” he nods, free hand reaching for Sirius’ jaw, his thumb stroking small circles against his icy skin. “What did you ask for? Was it toothpaste?”

“Oi,” Sirius tries and falls to swat his hand away, but Remus’ smile spreads anyway. “Cut me some slack, you were an intimidating bloke.”

“I was?” he tsks, shaking his head in faux disappointment. “I need to up my game, then.”

“You don’t fool me anymore, Moons. You’ve gone soft.”

Remus rolls his eyes, pinching his boyfriend’s jaw in a doting manner before dropping his arm. “Don’t make me talk.”

“Whatever you mean?” Sirius hums, pointedly taking a drag off his cigarette to avoid his Remus’ knowing gaze.

“I’ve heard some things,” he echoes his hum, though Remus’ sounds a tad bemused as he takes a drag off his own cig. “Lily kept complaining that you and Evan ate all the remaining blueberries she ordered for your cake,” he explains conspiratorially. 

To no one’s surprise, Sirius’ blushes. “You can hardly blame me–they were barely enough for one tier!”

“There were four whole boxes!”

Remus rolls his eyes fondly—something he tends to do in the presence of his boyfriend. “One day you’ll have to pay her a relaxing retreat for all you put her through.”

Marlene scoffs from their side, apparently having paused her conversation with Mary to listen to theirs. “God knows she needs one–she’s been a total arse the last two days!” 

“She even got in late. Late!” Mary adds. “Since when is Lily Evans late?”

“Was she?” Sirius frowns, feeling slight guilt in his chest at how unaware he was of this fact. “I didn’t notice I just thought it was the ball–and all the food she was supposed to prepare.”

“Probably,” Mary concedes, flicking her lighter on. “But there’s something else, I know her. She’s usually well tempered when it comes to these things.”

Remus frowns, too. “Do you think it has something to do with her sister?”

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” she shrugs. “Wretched little thing that girl,” she yelps as Marlene nudges her side. “From what I’ve heard. Ow, baby, how many times must I remind you that you have pointy elbows?”

Sirius parts his lips to speak, his lips spreading into a smirk at his upcoming jab–but the door to the pub opens and, like a summon call, Lily steps out into the crispy November air. James not so far behind with a strange expression on his face. 

Silence settles between them, anticipation creeping up in their huddled bunch as they take in their friends’ rigid steps and how they don’t deign to look at any of them in the face. Sirius reaches for Remus almost unconsciously, a grounding touch as he holds his hand tightly. 

“And?” Marlene asks, tightening her folded arms in front of her chest to keep herself warm. “Did he know something?”

“Or did James successfully manage to scare him off?” Mary jokes.

Lily wets her lips before cutting a quick glance at James, who continues staring straight ahead like he has just seen a ghost. 

Sirius feels pins and needles in his hands. “James?”

The bespectacled boy clears his throat. “He doesn’t know anything,” he mumbles, but his words have a cadence like they are heavy in his tongue. And his chest. “Said he was around here in the morning and saw the employee sheet for today–apparently Barty’s taking a few weeks off.”

Sirius blinks. “What?” he asks, tightening his hold in Remus’ hand. “So he knows Barty?”

Lily shakes her head. “He said they just met today for his quick training–that he’s covering these two days before going to the castle,” she explains, distractedly reaching for Mary’s lighted up cigarette for a drag of her own. “Couldnt really tell us much about him, either.”

They all turn to Sirius, who deflates visibly at the implications. Another dead end to his sibling’s whereabouts. 

He turns to James. “Why did you take so long, then?”

“He, um,” he clears his throat again, forcing himself to stare straight into Sirius’ eyes. “He wasn’t sure if he’d return to the castle.”

This brings a reaction out of everyone. “What?!”

“Don’t worry, it’s settled,” Lily cuts in. “He just had a few doubts, but we talked through it.”

“So he is coming back?” Sirius asks quickly, surprising himself with how much he hopes for Evan to return.

Lily nods, but turns to Remus. “Yeah, he’ll be waiting for you at Godric’s station.”

While they all seem somewhat appeased at the confirmation of Evan’s return, they all silently agree to return to the castle–but none of them ignore the fact that James doesn’t say a word the whole drive back home. 

…

Regulus feels himself drifting off against Barty’s shoulder–heart content with his predicament as his boyfriend’s dutiful hands continue massaging his knee, waiting for you to arrive from covering for him at the Quibbler to have a late dinner. 

Except… When you do return, you bring chaos and sniffles with you–door slamming behind your back as you exasperatedly try to untie your sneakers to take them off. Small hiccups come out of your lips mixed with ragged exhales that have turned on all the alarms on both your brother and Barty as they scramble to twist over the couch to see you. 

“What’s wrong?” Regulus frowns, pushing himself up with barely contained lethargy. “Did something happen?”

You shake your head, pressing your lips together as you make your way to your room–but Barty’s hand has already intercepted your attempt to clam up again. His own eyes full of questions and eyebrows furrowed with his characteristic worry when it comes to you or Regulus. 

“Let go,” you pull your arm away, Barty loosens his hold but doesn’t fully let go. “Let go.”

“Did something happen?”

It had been, apparently, the wrong thing to ask–paired with his careful words as he stands to search for your eyes. The sob you kept contained in your whole walk back home snaps loose when his worried gaze finds your watery one. It all goes downhill after that split second your eyes meet. Guilt claws its way up your throat, cutting off any attempt you do to breathe. 

Barty scrambles to jump over the couch to hold your elbows, his eyebrows furrowed so deeply it brings yet another guilty sob out of you. His hand finds the side of your head, guiding it to meet his gaze, the other reaches for your trembling hand as your hiccups turn into full on panicked breaths. 

Even with your hand pressed to his chest, trying and failing to sync your breathing pattern with the beating of his heart, the feeling in your chest tightens with every passing second they stare at you with those wide eyes. 

“Hey,” he says firmly, his hands finding your face. You screw your eyes shut, focusing on your breathing to even them into calmness. “Hey, you’re safe–it’ll be alright. y/n, look at me.”

You shake your head. “They know.”

“Who knows?”

“They know,” you repeat pathetically, all your brain manages to concoct with the thoughts running wild in your head. Barty sends Regulus a look over your head. “They know everything.”

A hand finds your wrist, and you’re mildly surprised when Regulus gives it a reassuring squeeze in hopes of taming your spiraling. “Who knows?”

You swallow. “I didn’t want to worry you, I’m really sorry.”

They share yet another look, but this one heavy. Barty can almost see the faint guilt in Regulus as your brother slowly rises to his feet. “What exactly happened, y/n?”

“Someone found out in the castle–a girl. Her name’s Lily,” you explain between hiccups, voice coarse like it’s shredding your throat. “She–she heard me talking with Dorcas on the phone. She… she puzzled everything together.”

Regulus swallows thickly, “Why didn’t you say?”

“I was going to,” you shake your head, dabbing at your damp cheeks. A futile attempt, really. More tears trail down with your words. “I was going to tell you but… but something–someone else found out.”

A silence settles in your little flat, the sound of the telly drowned out by your small breaths that have significantly calmed down as you gauge their reactions. Barty turns to Regulus in question, knowing well he’s missing an important factor that you’re leaving unsaid. 

Regulus looking away is all the answer he needs. 

You turn to your brother with trembling hands. “James found out today–he… he said Sirius has an active investigation going right now.”

“Investigation?”

“Yeah,” you wet your lips, salty and chapped as you try again to clean your cheeks. “Which is why they were at the Quibbler today,” you turn to Barty with a nervous look. He raises an eyebrow. “They were looking for you.”

His other eyebrow raises in surprise. “Me?” Barty asks, bewildered at the idea of being relevant enough to be investigated. “Why me?”

“I don’t know. That’s all they said.”

“And?” Regulus asks, his hand gripping his cane so rigidly his knuckles have turned white. “What else did they say?”

You cut a quick glance at Barty before looking back at Regulus in search of reassurance in his eyes. 

“They know my name’s not Evan.”

Barty sucks in a breath at the name. Not uttered in your little home in years. 

You feel the guilt gnawing at your insides again, especially when he blinks slowly in reaction, like his brain has simultaneously halted with his heart. 

“What?” he whispers, frowning as you look away from him. “y/n.”

“I’m really sorry.”

“Sorry? You’re sorry?” he repeats in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? What were you thinking?”

You blink. “What?”

But Barty won’t be deterred. “How could you do something so stupid?” he continues, gaining momentum despite your evident confusion. “Why would you use that name?”

“I panicked! It was the first thing I could come up with. I’m really sorry,” you shake your head. But Barty is already passing a frustrated hand through his hair. “I didn’t think it’d matter–”

“That it wouldn’t matter?!” his eyebrows shoot up in surprise. He turns to Regulus with a scoff, as if checking he’s listening to your nonsense, too. “Do you know how easily it can be to trace you down with that simple name?”

You copy his movements unconsciously, passing a nervous hand through your hair. “I know! I know, okay?” you let out a sharp exhale. “It doesn’t matter anyway, because they’re already close to finding us.”

“Because you used a name that ties you back to that place!” 

You hug your elbows. “I know,” you shake your head again, whether to keep your emotions at bay or your thoughts in order you don’t know. “I just… I’m really sorry, Barty.”

He deflates visibly, dropping his arms to his sides as he eyes you silently. “Why would you use that name, y/n?” his voice lowers to a whisper, still unable to mention the name. “You know what it means—what… Jesus fucking christ.”

What it means to me. Is what you know he almost says. And your own chest twists at his slumped shoulders.  

“I’m really sorry,” you repeat quietly. 

He doesn’t say a word, but his silence is an answer in itself. 

You wet your lips, sending your brother a quick glance as he moves slowly to reach for Barty, who accepts his touch wordlessly. The flat fills with tension as each second passes, and you slowly retreat to your room before yet another shameful sob escapes you and interrupts their attempted comfort to one another.  

The springs of your twin bed grind under your weight as you crawl under the covers, shivering slightly with leftover panic as you curl up with your knees drawn to your chest. From outside your door the humming of the telly drowns out before it simply goes silent and steps move outside, whispers echoing and so low they’re barely audible–but some stand out. 

“Why would she use that name, Regulus?” Barty whispers. You screw your eyes shut at the sadness in his voice. “Of all the names–why Evan?”

You swallow thickly, shaking your head to will the memories from surfacing but it’s too late–the sound of their younger, panicked voices have barreled into your mind.

“y/n, open the door. Now!”

You scrambled to your feet, the dictionary in your hands was sent flying as you ran across your room to unlock the door. Lips parting with angry berating at their ruckus–but they died in your tongue at the sight before you.

Regulus fixed his hold around Barty’s middle as he clumsily dragged him inside your room and dropped him rather harshly over the couch in the foyer, a trail of blood left behind them as it dripped from Barty’s face. 

“What happened? Who did this?” you stammered, struggling to lock your door again as Regulus crouched in front of him. Your heart plummeted in shock at the sight of your own brother. “And who did this to you?”

Regulus pressed his lips together, reaching for Barty’s hand in hopes of waking him up. “It doesn’t matter. He needs help–”

“It doesn’t matter?!” you repeated. “Look at the state of you two!”

Your brother let out a strange sound–a mix between a sob and a laugh. “The general–his dad he… he found us. We thought it was locked, we didn’t–”

Your blood ran cold at his brisk explanation. “W-What do you mean he found you?” you asked, but by the trembling of his hands and Barty’s state you could already sense his answer. 

“What do you think?” Regulus snapped. “We thought it was locked–we didn’t even know he could go down to that room.”

Barty made a noise, but it was muffled by the amount of blood coming out from his mouth. You pursed your lips as you snapped into action, running to your bathroom for several towels and a bowl of warm water.

“What?” Regulus asked, bending to try and listen to Barty. But the boy continued slipping in and out of consciousness. “Hey, Junior–don’t fall asleep on me.”

“He needs to see the doctor, Regulus.”

“I know,” he nodded. “I know he does but–but what will we say to him?”

“That he got in the middle of a brawl training?” you supplied pathetically, but cringed almost immediately at how feeble your made up excuse sounded. “I don’t know–what else are we supposed to do?”

“We can’t certainly tell him his monster of a father caught him snogging a boy in a cupboard!” Regulus shrieks. “Even if the doctor continues being a bloody snitch with mother!”

You shook your head, wringing the damp towels to clean at Barty’s bloodied face. “We can’t let him stay like this, either.”

Barty mumbled something again, and you cut a quick glance at your brother in question. He shrugged as he pressed a damp towel over his own bloodied face. 

But Barty shook his head again. “It was Evan.”

“Evan?” you frowned. “What about him?”

“Evan told him,” Barty slurred, flinching when your towel touched his opened wounds. “He… he told him.”

“…What?” Regulus whispered, eyes flared with fury as he scanned him for answers. “Rosier did this?”

You lowered the towel in disbelief. “How do you know?” you asked, but Barty was already looking away from you, his bloodshot eyes searching for Regulus. “Barty?”

Regulus’ face twisted as he realized what his silence meant. “You told him?!”

“I did it out of necessity! Someone should cover for me, and I didn’t think he’d–” he shut his mouth harshly, not brave enough to utter the words in his mind. But you could listen to them anyway. “I thought he was to be trusted.”

“Well, look at where that left you!”

Barty laid back on the couch. “I know,” he shook his head. You placed one hand over the side of his face to keep him still, his skin was still sticky with blood against your palm. “Fuck!”

“Hey,” you scolded, keeping his face in place. “Stay still.”

 “‘M still,” he sighed, sounding awfully pained but chastised at your stern tone. You almost felt bad if your nerves weren’t so frayed. 

Your shoulders slumped in frustration, studying each opened wound on his face and not enough knowledge to properly tend to all of them. His father really did a number on him. And Regulus. 

Your eyes flickered towards him. “You jumped in to help, didn’t you?” you noted, trying to not be too obvious with your lingering eyes on his busted lip. 

Regulus dropped his warm towel at your tone. “What was I supposed to do? Let him be?”

“Stupid,” Barty muttered. 

“Stupid?” Regulus repeated, aghast. “You’re calling me stupid when you went and told someone else about us?”

“I didn’t think–”

“That’s right. You did not think it through. At all!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” you rose to your feet, arms spread in front of you in a placating manner before the argument could slip out of your hands. “That’s hardly important right now. We need to get him help to heal, he can’t stay like this.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?” Regulus frowned. “Last time I checked none of us are bloody doctors!”

You wet your lips nervously. “How about… how about Pandora? She’s been helping around in the infirmary,” you said quickly, but both boys shook their heads resolutely at your idea. You threw your arms up. “What do you suggest then?”

“Certainly not seek help with the snitch’s sister!”

“Well, the snitch’s sister is the only option we have if we want to be quick!” you snapped, already at the end of your patience. “And she’s my friend, too. I’ll talk to her.”

“And tell her what, y/n? You’re not thinking this through. None of you!”

“Regulus, you’re freaking me out, and if I freak out there won’t be anyone to solve this mess,” you said firmly, palm up to stop any argument that your brother could come up with. “I won’t tell her the full context. Just enough for her to come here and help us.”

He parted his lips to speak, but Barty moved his hand from his throbbing eyes to wave you off. “Let her–she’s right,” he turned to meet your gaze. “She’s better than him, I hardly think she can do any more harm than he did.”

You nodded, handing your damp towel to Regulus to walk out your room. Stomach in knots at the faint and dried trail of blood to your door as you recited possible scenarios to enlist Pandora for help. 

Except, when you opened it, you came face to face with your own mother. 

Your blood ran cold once again. “M–Mother, good evening,” you stammered, blinking furiously as if to make sure you’re not hallucinating. Fate couldn’t be so cruel. “To what do I owe your visit?”

“y/n,” she said, clipped. “I must speak with your brother.”

“Regulus? He’s not–”

“I know he’s here,” she raised a palm up, and you scrambled to move aside to let her in. Kreacher sent you a very hidden sympathetic look as he followed her into your room. “With his… friend,” her lips pursed in disgust. 

“They…” you trailed off, blinking as you failed to seem composed to follow her inside. “Mother–”

Your mother only hummed, lips twitching at the scene before her. Her cold eyes followed the trail of blood until she came face to face with your panicked brother pathetically cleaning Barty’s wounds. 

“It is true, then,” she said, hands clasped together in such elegant manner you’d never think they’re capable of indescribable horrors. “Kreacher?”

”Yes, your majesty?”

“You may tell the general I’ve found his son,” she commands, cutting your brother one last glance. “And mine, too. He shall do what he deems necessary to fix them.”

“Fix them?” you repeated. “They don’t need to–”

Her hands found your jaw, nails digging cruelly over your cheeks as she forced you to look into her eyes. “Have I given you permission to speak, y/n?”

“Mother–”

“Another word and you’re going with them.”

You blinked, swallowing thickly. “Going where?”

She let out an exhale, sounding awfully sorry if she was capable of such feelings. “Actually, Kreacher. You can tell him he’s allowed to take all of them,” she let go of your jaw. “My daughter included.”

A tense silence followed, boots clinking against the marble as Kreacher stepped out the room. And before your brain could decode her meaning, the doors to your chambers opened yet again to reveal Bartemius Crouch with a couple of soldiers barging inside. All of them ready with orders as they stomped to reach for Barty’s still body and your brother despite his useless attempts to push them away. 

You barely noticed the soldier harshly taking control of your arms–and even had enough time to process Evan’s hardened glare as he dragged you out of your room along with your brother and Barty. 

You wake up to a start. Heart nearly up your throat beating with such vigor you press a hand to tame it down into submission. But ragged exhales continue puffing out of you as you take in on your surroundings, your tiny room and the first rays of sunshine filtering through the curtains. 

Pacing sounds come very faintly from outside your door, paired with the careful steps of Regulus’ cane. Sizzling from the kitchenette and the smell of fresh orange juice slowly calm your senses as the panic subdues from your chest. 

You shuffle in your bed to pat in search of your phone to check the time. When you unlock it, you’re surprised to see a text from Lily.

LE: james hasn’t said anything.

LE: all okay here. 

LE: it’s safe for you to return. if you want to or course. remus will be waiting for you at the station.

…

You skim your battered copy of Alice in Wonderland, mostly as a habit as trains come and go in front of you while you wait for yours to arrive. 

From your side you try to tune out Regulus’ grumbled whining as shifts in his seat, moving his cane around him to find a comfortable position as he waits with you. Barty from his other side doesn’t bat an eye as he skims through the medical papers and laboratory orders from the doctor.

“This is so unnecessary,” your brother grumbles again, louder when his previous jabs went ignored by you two. “Why must I take all those?”

“Because you need them,” Barty counters dryly, not looking up to meet his gaze. “And they were expensive. Least you can do is take them.”

Regulus scoffs. “You’re manipulating me?” he turns to you, searching for any indication that you’re on his side. But your lips quirk ever so faintly as you open your book again. “Do you hear him?”

“I hear him,” you nod. “And he’s right–they were expensive.”

“Really?” he asks, head turning from each side as he considers you and Barty with raised eyebrows. You let your smile spread at his indignation. “You’re tag teaming against me?”

Barty’s answer comes in the form of procuring the prescription bottle from his jean pockets, shaking it with a smirk of his own before opening it with flair. Regulus throws himself back on the metal seat, but wordlessly extends a palm at his boyfriend to place the medicines in his hand. 

“Don’t be a wuss,” you chuckle, handing him your half drunk water bottle. “They’re for your own good.”

“I don’t fancy you spending all your paycheck on me, though,” Regulus mutters before throwing the pills into his mouth. “Especially when they’re hardly needed now.”

“Not what the doctor said,” Barty shakes his head, opening the medical record again. “Your bones are weak, and God knows you need all the help we can get.”

“I’ve survived pretty well so far, haven’t I?”

You groan. “Regulus,” you let your book fall to your lap to twist over your seat, trying to make your eyes look as stern as your voice. “Would it kill you to be fussed over?”

“Yeah, don’t be selfish,” Barty nods. “This is more for our piece of mind than yours. You prick.”

“I think I liked you two better when you weren’t speaking,” he mumbles petulantly, giving your water one last sip before handing it back to you. 

You cut a quick glance at Barty. “It’s ’cause you’re Switzerland,” you joke, feeling fondness in your chest when Barty’s lips twist faintly. He bends over to look closely at the folder to hide it. “And Switzerland is neutral territory.”

Regulus raises an eyebrow at you. “If I’m Switzerland, what are you? France?”

You laugh. “I was thinking more–”

“Godric?” Barty supplies, his tone sardonic despite the seriousness in his features.

“Fuck off,” you mutter halfheartedly. 

Regulus laughs as well. “He’s not wrong,” he goads, basking in the way the blush creeps up all the way to your ears. “If you play your cards right you can rule Godric. You’d be Godric.”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff. “If this isn’t a ploy to get me arrested as soon as I step into Godric Hall.”

“Didn’t that girl say you were safe to return?” Barty asks casually. All a lie, if the way he’s chewing on his lower lip is any indication. “Potter doesn’t strike me as a fraud. Your brother maybe, but Potter?”

You shake your head, looking away from them and straight ahead at the passing trains. “I don’t know,” you say honestly. “You should’ve seen his face.”

“So? He still decided to stay silent,” Barty shrugs, closing the folder over his lap. He wets his lips before searching for your eyes in the beat of silence. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“Huh?”

“I should’ve been more… considerate of your feelings last night,” he passes a hand through his disheveled hair. “You didn’t need me piling more stuff over you.”

You sigh. “I’m sorry, too,” you mimic his movements, threading your fingers through your own uneven ends. “I should’ve told you about… about the fake name. I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, making a point of sending you a knowing smile. “It’s mostly my fault for giving it too much importance, isn’t it? Really, y/n. It’s okay.”

You wet your lips, too, nodding slowly as he bends over to search for your gaze. “It’s okay, too, you know. I didn’t expect you to take it lightly.”

Regulus hums from between you. “Since when is Barty known for taking things lightly?”

“That’s true,” you let out a relieved sigh at Barty’s fond eyeroll. “My mistake, if we’re being honest. I should’ve known better.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Barty waves you off, rising to his feet as your train pulls up to the station. “Make fun of the poor breadwinner.”

You gawp, jumping to your feet with faux indignation. “Oi! What about my efforts?”

“If by effort you mean batting your eyelashes to handsome princes, then yeah, thank you for your service.” Barty quips, opening a hand at Regulus as they walk you to the train. 

You fix your hold around your bag, bigger now considering it’ll be a while until you return to them again. Regulus’ eyes follow your movement and swallows thickly, trying and failing to suppress the nostalgic look in his eyes. 

“Now, don’t cry, Reggie,” you nudge him softly. “‘Cause then I’ll cry, and Barty too and we’ll be those families that cry at train stations.”

“So what?” he mutters. “I’ll cry if I fucking want to.”

You laugh, embracing him slowly. “Alright, then. Cry all you want.” you joke, but your heart twists painfully when he sniffles against your shoulder. “I’ll be back before you even notice I’m gone.”

“Yeah,” Barty nods, and you look up in surprise over Regulus’ shoulder when you notice his glassy eyes. “But it’s still quite far–we’ve grown used to having you around.”

“To have me cleaning after your smelly arses, you mean?” you smile, opening an arm for him. Barty steps into your hug wordlessly. “I promise you’ll be fine. You can still call any time you need me.”

“I know,” they nod simultaneously, and your hold around them tightens in response. 

“Take care, yeah?” you whisper, they return your squeeze as an answer.

None of you notice the man photographing your huddled bunch from afar. Already sending the pictures to his client, Peter Pettigrew.

…

Remus taps the steering wheel absentmindedly, free hand meddling with the radio to find a suitable station to fill the silence. He cuts you a glance, studying you quickly as you stare out the window and the snowy roads ahead of you. Godric Castle stands far, lit up despite it still being early. 

He clears his throat. “How was your weekend, Evan?”

“It was okay,” you say. “Nothing out of the ordinary."

“That’s nice.”

You hum in agreement. Neither of you make another comment, but you wring your hands over your lap when you catch his lingering eyes from the reflection in the window. Remus taps the steering wheel again, mostly as if to psych himself up rather than a nervous tic. 

“You know,” he speaks up, lowering the volume of the radio. “We’re really sorry for barging in at the pub, and you know, interrogating you.”

You blink. “We?”

“James,” he clarifies. “And Lily, too. They can be… quite meddlesome when they want to be.”

“Oh,” you frown, looking away from the window. “You mean at the Quibbler? That’s okay, it hardly bothered me.”

“I’m sure it was quite a shock seeing them on your weekend off, though,” his lips tug up. Conspiratorially. “Especially James, I’m sure.”

“I mean,” you tug your hairs behind your ears. “I wasn’t expecting it but it’s not like I own the town, either.”

Remus laughs. “You looked pretty scandalized to see him there, though.”

“Not everyday you go out with friends and see a whole royal court outside the pub,” you shrug noncommittally. “And your boss, I suppose–Is Sirius technically my boss?”

You turn to him, but Remus is already frowning as he switches lanes. “Out with friends?” he repeats. “I thought you were covering for someone?”

Your heart skips a beat at his question, and you nod rigorously. “Yeah, that too!” he blinks in surprise at your raised voice. “I meant that I was out with friends and covering for a friend–yeah, that’s what I meant.”

“A friend? I thought you didn’t know Barty,” he continues, eyes flickering between the road and you. “I mean, that’s what James said.”

“Well,” you clear your throat, passing your clammy hands over your jeans. “He’s sort of a friend–he put up with me during my training, didn’t he?” you say quickly. Too quickly. 

“I suppose,” he nods slowly, frowning at your clammy hands rubbed distractedly over your jeans and jacket as he comes to a red light. “Are you alright? Should I turn the heat off?”

“Hm?” you hum, though it sounds squeaky and a tad nervous. You clear your throat. “No, I’m okay. Just, um, the change of weather, s’all.” 

“…Right,” Remus says, but still lowers the temperature of the heater. You look out the window in his distraction. “Well, I’m still sorry.”

“It’s okay, really,” you wave him off. Remus’ eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “I mean, I didn’t mind. Don’t fret.”

Remus nods, looking ahead as he drives towards the first guarded gate to Godric Castle. The radio hums low as he nods at the guards posted by the entrance, and you feel dread slowly creeping up your chest as they open the gates and he drives into the grounds. 

You swallow thickly, rehearsing your words as the castle comes closer. If he notices your nervousness, he’s kind enough to not point it out. Instead, he turns up the volume in the radio–empty noise that suddenly becomes comforting when you recognize the song playing. 

“Oh, this song’s really lovely,” you point out, looking down at the radio with a half smile. 

Remus returns it almost unconsciously when he notes the sincerity in yours. “Yeah?” he asks, turning up the volume a bit more. 

“Yeah,” you nod, humming very quietly to the tune of the song. Blackbird by The Beatles. “It’s one of my favorites.”

He makes a strange sound, between a surprised laugh and a delighted gasp. “Really?” He looks at you very quickly, his smile spreading into a full grin. “Mine too–or well, by proxy, I suppose,” he amends, sending you a knowing look. “Sirius really loves it, too.”

“He does?”

“Hm,” Remus hums, coming to a stop before turning to you. His amber eyes study you curiously. “It’s one of his favorite songs as well."

“Oh,” you blink, looking away. Your heart mushes as you watch Sirius step out the castle, waving in the distance as he climbs down the stairs. “He’s got nice taste, then.” 

Remus follows your gaze with a fond smile of his own, but your gaze has already traveled up–and your heart does a somersault when your eyes lock with James’.

The prince stares at you as he walks behind Sirius to meet you by the end of the stairs, his arms crossed over his chest and eyes emotionless where they’re glued to yours. 

You pass a hand over your sternum to calm your stuttering heart, following Remus out of the car with your bag hugged to your front. But Sirius is already standing in front of you with a look you can’t quite decipher. 

“Evan,” he breathes out, a sincere smile tugging at his lips as he stands in front of you. “Welcome back–how was your weekend?”

“It was alright,” you mumble, wetting your lips nervously when James catches up to all of you. “Too short, I suppose,” you joke halfheartedly. 

“That’s true,” Sirius shrugs. “But I reckon it was better than this boring ball, huh?”

You swallow nervously, pointedly trying to not look at James again. “Maybe,” you send him a smile. “Happy birthday, by the way.”

Sirius’ lips part in surprise, like you’ve hit him square in the chest. “Oh… Thank you, Evan.”

You nod, fixing your hold around your bag. But when you cut a quick glance at James, gauging his reaction, his expression has morphed into something you can’t quite decipher. 

He clears his throat. “Welcome back… Evan,” he nods, and you inhale sharply to suppress a relieved sigh. “I know this is such short notice but, Mary and Marlene are waiting for you in your chambers to help you change,” he says, clipped. Devoid of any emotion. 

Remus and Sirius share a quick look at his tone. 

“To help me dress?” you repeat. “What am I? A child?”