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lumosinlove · 2 days ago

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Vaincre

july part i

(Bit of a shorter chapter to make the others start and end where I want them to, but still fun and beachy!)

Nate: What’s up everyone, this is Nate here with my co-host, Jade, welcome back to the Lion Pride Podcast. Okay, this episode is titled ‘Maybe Now I Can Come Home’ and for good fucking reason. Like congratulations to the Rangers, whatever, this is a Gryffindor Lions podcast but—but I am a Logan Tremblay lover and—oh my God, I can’t.

Jade: No, seriously, because guys think about this. We have to talk about this. I haven’t seen anyone actually break this down which surprises me endlessly because it is an insane fucking story. Logan Tremblay is not known for being particularly out there, or candid with the media. I mean, on a scale of Sirius Black to Thomas Walker, he is far, far closer to the Black side of things.

Nate: For sure. At least in public.

Jade: Right. I mean, you’d know.

Nate: Ha.

Jade: Don’t give me that smug little ‘ha.’ I KNOW you see them all the time having pizza.

Nate: I would never TALK about that on here. But yes, I do.

Jade: Okay, we’re talking about Tremzy.

Nate: Yes, yes, we are.

Jade: I mean—we did do a Harvard Years podcast when Logan was first public about them on that mic’d up segment during the Lions-Rangers series.

Nate: [Tearful] Hey, seventeen.

Jade: Hey, Ten. [Squeals]

Nate: My heart.

Jade: But this is just—okay. I mean, I’m skipping ahead but, I’m sorry maybe I’m the only one who saw the way Logan got kissed by Leo Knut and Finn O’Hara. Was everyone else doing something during that moment? That wasn’t a kiss that was a KISS. That was a mother fucking die-hard love confession and no one actually said anything. I didn’t quite understand the Tremblay trade when it happened—trade away MVP?

Nate: And also I don’t think anyone missed that it was hard on him. If you put photographs of him during those last months of being in Gryffindor beside photos of those first months in New York…

Jade: Two different people.

Nate: Two. Different. People. And O’Hara and Knut, too. There’s a photograph—like game day walk in photograph—of O’Hara that just breaks my heart every time I see it.

Jade: Near the concussion?

Nate: No, right after the trade. I have never seen someone look so exhausted.

Jade: I know. When they traded Tremz, I thought there must have been something wrong in the room that they were keeping hush-hush. That we didn’t, like, pick up on.

Nate: Maybe someone thought their relationship was wrong in the room.

Jade: Well, fuck ‘em then, there was nothing wrong with those three, except that one of them has been forced to another city.

Nate: For real. Like, let’s unpack. Logan has just won his second Stanley Cup in two years. That’s insane. Like, on two different teams? He is looking like THE difference maker. He’s finished a one year contract, could demand, like, any amount of money he wants. Should be the happiest guy around. And yet he falls into his sister’s arms—that was Noelle, one of his three sisters—and what does he say?

Jade: Maybe I can come home now.

Nate: Just knock me out, Logan. Knock me flat on my face.

Jade: Maybe I can come home now. I mean, hot mic for real, oh my God. No, it’s everywhere. I’m sure this is not what Logan wanted, more drama surrounding him. Plus, that’s not exactly what an organization wants to hear after your player has just won a Cup, but I gotta say, if the way fans are reacting says anything, it’s that it was a raw moment and maybe one everyone saw coming. There’s no more confusion. He’s separated from his family. Okay, they’re not married, they don’t have kids, that’s been some people’s favorite thing to point out, but they live together, they are together. That would be hard.

Nate: ‘Oh, but that’s part of the lifestyle, blah, blah’ — Yeah. We know. That doesn’t make it less hard.

Nate: Right. Rangers fans are obviously a little upset but—they don’t really know him. Ha, sorry, I sound like a creepy fan, I’m not saying we know him, but we know him as a player. As our player. This guy has been a Lion for his entire NHL career—a team he met two partners on. Well, not Finn.

Jade: Oh, Finn. Oh boy.

Nate: Finn is a whole new can of worms.

Jade: For a different episode. But anyway—Can you imagine if this actually changed things?

Nate: Do you think it could? He has lots of star power. I’m not sure that matters though. Not if no one is willing to talk about a move. The Lions are up to their ears in big salaries already, I mean, maybe not quite yet with Lupin, but Potter, O’Hara, Black, like, this is no joke. And Knut is about to make big bucks and they’ll need a long-term goalie back up solution—more money. A few years ago, I was wondering about a rebuild, now I feel like we have an All-Star team which is unsustainable.

Jade: Like ow. I’ll protest. I’ll literally drive to New York with a hand-painted side, let Logan Tremblay go home to be kissed in the way Finn mother-fucking O’Hara and Leo Knut kissed him on that open ice—Actually, though.

Nate: New headline: Hot mic costs New York Rangers their top forward due to protests from romantics everywhere.

One moment, his headphones were being pulled out of his ear, the next, Sirius was being kissed. It was an off-center thing, Remus having leaned over the couch behind him and only half landing it on his mouth.

“I show you the podcast app one time and I’ve created a monster.”

“This one had Logan’s name on it,” Sirius said. “It’s Nate. From Sid’s.”

“I know who Nate is,” Remus laughed. He came around the sofa and sat snugly against Sirius’ side. “Is this about what Logan said on the ice? About going home?”

“You already heard it?”

“Well, it’s all over the internet. Everyone’s talking about it.”

“It’s…” Sirius shook his head. “It’s kind of amazing. The…” He pressed his lips together. He didn’t even know how to say it.

“I know,” Remus said softly.

Sirius smiled. “Of course you do.” He dropped his phone and headphones to the side and wrapped an arm around Remus’ waist, scooping him closer. “Ça va?”

“Well. My mom has left to go grocery shopping with James—God help her. Lily just texted me that her and my dad just arrived in town for grill stuff and extra ice and more beach chairs—they’re also going to take Harry to story time at the library, which is in an hour and a half…”

Sirius blinked in surprise when Remus’ threw a thigh over his lap and settled there, all muscle and warm weight for Sirius to get his hands on.

“Regulus just took Julian to the skate park,” Remus continued. “And no one is supposed to arrive here until this afternoon.”

Sirius hands tightened on Remus’ waist. Suddenly, he could see it. He didn’t know how he had missed it before. Remus’ cheeks were flushed with anticipation—anticipation for Sirius. He wanted him. It was in the curve of his shoulders and the way he arched slightly into Sirius’ hands.

“Are you…” Sirius blinked around the house. Quiet. So quiet. “You mean—we’re alone?”

The breath Remus let out had a soft, needy sound in it. “We are so, so alone.”

“Oh…” Sirius managed, and then Remus pressed a hard, open kiss to his mouth.

Sirius’ world went a little blurred at the edges. Remus spread his knees around Sirius’ thighs and pressed his hips down. He was already half-hard, maybe just at the thought of coming over to Sirius, and Sirius spread his palms over Remus’ ass to press him down harder.

“God,” Remus whispered into his next kiss.

They had been careful. Good, quiet, and careful. Remus’ hair was sun-warmed as it slipped through Sirius’ fingers.

“We—” Sirius pushed his hands up and under Remus’ shirt.

“Upstairs,” Remus said.

Sirius thought of that creaky, creaky bed and had never wanted to be anywhere more. He couldn’t help laughing as they stood. He felt jittery. A sugar-high but it was all Remus. In the bend of the tight staircase, Sirius found himself pressed up against the wall. A picture frame holding a print of the oil-painted lake rattled as his shoulder knocked it. By the time he looked away from it, making sure it wasn’t in danger of falling, Remus had sunk to his knees.

“Re,” Sirius breathed. The laugh that followed was more a breath than anything. Just a tumble of pent up energy that was beginning to realize the gates were open and the sun and sky were being let in.

Remus just looked up at him. His hazel eyes were glassy, pupils dark. He reached for the elastic band of the shorts Sirius wore, but only tucked his fingers into them as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to Sirius to the material. Sirius felt his ab muscles jump at even the glimpse of heat. He pushed his fingers into Remus’ hair and tightened his grip, enjoying the way Remus’ eyes slipped closed, the soft smile that crossed his face.

“Don’t make me wait,” Sirius said. He moved his free hand to push the material of his shorts down until he could grip himself freely. The word alone had nearly been enough for him, like every inch of him knew how long it had been.

Sirius’ body, his whole world, curved towards the heat of Remus’ mouth. His nails dug into the backs of Sirius’ thighs, little pin-pricks of sharpness to accompany the all-consuming blush of pleasure that made him sigh. Sirius’ head thumped back against the wall, his mouth open and his breath shallow. Remus wasn’t making him wait. His pace was fast, his tongue pressing the underside almost too firmly. Sirius was going to come too quick. He could already feel it rushing towards him, drawing him taut.

“Wait, okay, wait, wait,” Sirius panted, tightening his fingers again to ease Remus to a slower drag. “Re, I’m so close. I’m so fucking close.”

Remus made a soft noise and pulled off. He stood, steadying himself with a hand on Sirius’ chest. Sirius cupped a hand over where Remus tented his shorts and pressed the heel of his palm down hard.

“Me too,” Remus said through a shaky laugh. He pushed into Sirius’ hand and Sirius watched the way his jaw tightened. “Oh…”

Sirius knew that, if one of them didn’t move, they were going to end up grinding against each other in this stairwell. He wanted more than that. He wanted Remus completely bare and spread out beneath him.

“Come here,” Sirius said. He turned Remus so he faced the stairs.

“Can you…” Remus stopped just halfway up, his head falling back against Sirius’ shoulder. He covered Sirius’ hand with his. Sirius let Remus guide his hand up his clothed shaft for only a few moments, kissing along his neck, before he eased them forward again again.

Sirius had dampened the snug front of his boxers by the time they were falling onto their bed. The mattress gave a whine, drawing a brief laugh from both of them, but there was no one to hear. Alone, giving a voice to the pressure in his chest, it only turned him on. It shifted when Sirius did, pulling Remus’ shirt and shorts away, and creaked again as Sirius bent over his body.

No one was crafted like Remus Lupin. No one. Sirius set his mouth against the strong cut of his hips. They pushed up against his mouth and Sirius tugged his own shorts away. His t-shirt followed, left to share a heap on the floor. Sirius kissed the pale line of skin where his swim trunks hid him from the sun, then the fainter ones along his biceps and neck. They got lost to grinding against each other again, all skin now, their own desperation turning it into a smooth glide.

“Where’s—” Sirius began to question, but Remus shook his head almost wildly.

“I don’t know,” he panted. “I don’t know, I don’t know, don’t get up, just—” He looked almost frantic. “Oh, fuck…”

Sirius had pressed them together again, aligned so perfectly that they could feel all of each other. He reached down for Remus’ thigh and coaxed it around his hip.

No, he couldn’t get up. He couldn’t leave this warmth right now, not for anything. He tucked his nose into Remus’ neck as he ground his hips forward. He smelled like heat. Like the soft forest that surrounded them. Remus’ heel pressed into Sirius’ back and his hands went into his dark hair.

The bed groaned in time with Remus’ soft sounds. Sirius’ only warning that Remus was coming was when those sounds choked off and missed a beat. The warm flood between them had Sirius setting his panting mouth against Remus’ shoulder. A knocking momentarily startled a gasp from Sirius, but it was only the bed against the wall as he fucked forward, watching Remus’ golden, hooded eyes.

“Oh, God,” Remus’ voice went tight, his neck arching up, head pushing down into the pillows. “Keep��Sirius—”

It sounded so good, the rest of his life. Remus saying his name like that. It sent him right over the edge. Remus lifted his head for a sloppy kiss that had a sated, finally sort of smile in it. His foot slipped from Sirius’ back to the mattress.

Maybe not the most romantic of their moments, but Sirius glanced towards the bedside table. They had over an hour. That had been over too quickly for Sirius’ liking, but the second Remus had crawled into his lap he’d known he was a goner.

“Next time,” Remus whispered. “We’ll be married.”

“Mm, not next time,” Sirius said. He pushed himself up on his elbows. He brushed their noses together. “Next time is going to be in just a few minutes.”

Remus stretched out against him, laughing. “Oh, good.”

Sirius could only hope they looked normal when they heard Hope’s car pull back into the driveway. They’d lay there three rounds in, sort of kissing, sort of fading in and out of an afternoon nap, but naked with the sheets pushed down and the warm breeze coming in front the open window, tangled up in each other in a way they usually couldn’t—not when Julian really, really didn’t know how to knock on doors first. Remus had groaned after a few hours, saying they were pushing their luck and that a car could be back any moment. No sooner had Sirius finished getting dressed again than had they heard the crunch of gravel.

“Hey, Hope,” Sirius said. He adjusted his shirt and held out his arms to help carry the groceries inside. He still felt hot. He still felt Remus.

“Hello, honey,” Hope said, handing him two bags. She leaned in, lowering her voice. “Remind me to never take James Potter to a grocery store again.”

Sirius laughed. “Okay?”

“I asked for green onions and he brought me asparagus.”

“Wow,” Sirius said. “I’d make fun of him, but I can’t say I wouldn’t have made the same mistake.”

He brought the bags into the kitchen where James was unloading things into the fridge and cupboards.

He held up two limes and raised his eyebrows, a look Sirius returned with silent questions.

“How’s it going?” James asked.

“Good? You?”

“No, no,” James waved a lime. “How’s it going. You look a little…” A smile fought at his mouth. “Sunburned.”

Sirius scoffed. “I’m not.”

“Little flush.”

Oh. James’ eyes flicked to Remus, who they could just see through the windows taking more stuff out of the car.

“James,” Sirius grumbled.

“Did you get some…sun?”

With a roll of his eyes, Sirius nodded.

“Atta boy.” James’ laugh was knowing, and he patted a hand to Sirius’ chest. “You’re welcome.”

“I’m welcome?”

James leaned in conspiratorially. “Here are some things you should know about me.” He held up a fist and opened up a finger as he spoke. “One? I am a terrible grocery shopper. Ask Lily,” James said. “I make the thing take three times as long.” He took out his phone. “Two? My son takes after me and loves a good story time. A little help from Google.”

Sirius just shook his head. “I can’t believe…And Regulus and Jules?”

“Well. I was ready to slip Jules a twenty, but…” James shrugged. “I think they just wanted to hang out.”

As if on cue, a second car pulled into the driveway. Sirius and Remus’. Regulus put the car into park and opened his door, then, from the back, out tumbled Julian, talking a mile-a-minute. Both of them were sweaty, the sweat showing in Julian’s mussed hair and at the neck of Regulus’ t-shirt, and bother were—laughing. Real laughter. Hard laughter. It was a sight, to say the least, to see Regulus holding a pair of skates—even if they had wheels instead of blades—and smiling like that. As Sirius watched Regulus tossed an arm around Julian’s shoulder and messed up his hair even further.

Sirius took a bag from James and began to unpack it as he watched—he ended up just holding a pack of hamburger buns and staring. They ditched their skates and went over to help Hope and Remus. Julian was given the bag of ice to carry. He didn’t even seem to mind the cold as he walked happily between Sirius’ brother and his own.

“Nice to see him like that,” James’ voice came.

Sirius, when he went to speak, found his throat tight. When James’ hand appeared on his shoulder, he didn’t flinch, but leaned into it. “You have no idea.”

The cars started arriving around three. First, Thomas and Noelle.

“Okay, Lupins,” Thomas called as he shut the driver’s side door. He lifted his sunglasses to perch them on his head. “I see how it is, secret spot, personal paradise.”

Sirius followed behind as Remus jogged down the driveway and threw his arms around Thomas’ neck. They stumbled a little, rocking, and Thomas’ slapped him playfully on the back.

“We are so ready to party this shit up,” he said—then looked at Hope and put his hands to his mouth. “My apologies, Mrs. Lupin.”

“We are ready to help with dinner,” Noelle cut in. She came around and opened her arms to Sirius. “And literally anything else that needs help.”

Sirius smiled. “You’re our guests. Thanks for making the drive. Where’s your brother?”

“Probably being wrangled—with Finn—by Leo into actually remembering to pack their suits.” Noelle said, then nudged her shoulder against Sirius’. “You should call him. Nothing will get his ass into action than a call from you.”

Sirius laughed. “I count on that.”

“I have such a surprise for you,” Thomas said.

“Don’t panic,” Noelle added. “He means that in a good way.”

“A good way?” Sirius asked skeptically.

Noelle laughed. “It’s a good surprise. Now, go call my brother otherwise they’ll get here at eight. Also—” She held up a bag. “I brought some wine that should go somewhere cold.”

Sirius laughed and nodded towards the house. “I’ll show you.”

It was an interesting feeling, walking with Noelle. She had a similar presence as Logan, soft but steady.

“Have you, ah…” Sirius had wanted a moment to ask her, but now that it had come, he wasn’t sure how.

“I didn’t know the mics would catch it,” Noelle said, her face going a little drawn. “I…I mean, he basically said it in my ear, I didn’t think…” She sighed as Sirius opened the screen door into the house for him. “At least he said exactly what he wanted to say. That’s all I mind.”

Sirius took the wine from her, two crisp looking bottles of white. “Did he tell you about me?”

“You?” She blinked, confused.

Sirius turned and opened the fridge—already pretty full, but managed to slot the bottles somewhere between two bags of lettuce. He swallowed, letting the fridge’s coolness wash over his face. He switched to French. Somehow, it was easier in French. “We’re not the same team without him.”

He turned to face her again. “And I don’t just mean on the ice.”

Noelle had Logan’s features. The full mouth and the thick eyelashes that shaded green eyes. They went interested and sad in just the same way as her brother’s.

“It was hard on all of us when he got forced out,” Sirius said. “Especially—well, Leo was…sort of okay, I guess. Sometimes okay. Trying to be okay. But Finn…”

“Finn and Lo…” Noelle sighed. “Yeah, they don’t really do distance very well.”

Sirius nodded. He fiddled with a magnet on the fridge that held up a photograph of a young Remus, maybe just seven years old or so.

Sirius didn’t know what else to do other than just…say it.

“I’d like to have a few of us to take a pay cut so we have the space to bring him back,” Sirius said in a rush. He swallowed when Noelle’s mouth dropped open. “Home. And—and, of course, I would be one of them, I’d never ask that without being—”

But Noelle had already thrown her arms around him.

“I don’t know if it’s going to work,” Sirius said. Slowly, he settled his hands on her back. “But I wanted—when I heard what he said to you, I wanted you to know what we’re trying.”

“Sirius,” Noelle began softly. “You…You changed his life.”

She pulled back to look at him, her hands holding his shoulders. With her soft eyes, Logan’s eyes, Sirius didn’t mind so much.

“I hope you realize how much you helped him. You…He’d kill me for blubbering over it to you of all people, and I know, I know none of it was easy, but I am so, so grateful to you. And Remus. And I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’m really happy to be here. With Thomas, yeah, but also just…because I appreciate you two. More than I can say. You…” She had to stop, green eyes filled up. “Sirius, you saved by baby brother’s life in so many ways.”

“That’s him for me, too,” Sirius managed. “And…Really, I’m going to do what I can.”

“I know,” Noelle said. “Fuck, I know you are.”

They stood by the fridge until Sirius heard Remus and Thomas laughing as they came into the house.

“On that note,” she laughed wetly, patting his shoulder. “Go call him and see where he is.”

Sirius wandered out towards the lake. He shook out a beach chair until the joints clicked into place and sat down while the phone rang.

“Sirius Black,” Finn’s voice came. “You gave us just enough time for the hangovers to disappear, and I thank you for that.”

Sirius snorted. Well, Finn sounded all right, at least. “Hey. How were the Cup parties?”

“I don’t even know where to begin,” Finn laughed.

Sirius thought of the podcast he’d listened to that morning—though, after Remus, it felt like years ago. “As long as you guys are good.”

“We’re—” Finn sighed. “The phone is being snatched from me. See you soon, groom.”

“Cap,” Logan’s voice came. “Is my sister there?”

“Yeah. Where are you?” Sirius asked. “I want to see you.”

“We’re about to get in the car.”

A rustle, then Leo’s voice, like he’d pulled the phone towards him. “I’ve been trying, Cap, believe me.”

Sirius laughed. “Thanks for coming all the way out here. I know all you probably really want to do is relax.”

“Oh, ouais.” Logan again. “It’s so hard to come to a beautiful lake to watch my best friends get married.”

Sirius smiled, eyes on the water. “It is pretty gorgeous.” He reached down and trailed sand through his fingers. “You’re all over the internet.”

Logan didn’t reply for a moment. Only the sound of suitcase wheels and something being shut—a drawer maybe—filled the silence.

“I am all over the internet,” Logan finally repeated. “I am ‘a player of a generation.’ And I am in love with two boys, which no one can ignore now.”

“Two boys?” Sirius heard Finn’s voice. “Where is this other boy—oh, there he is, howdy…”

Logan let out a sound that sounded all smile and hopelessly smitten. “Mm…Ah, what were we talking about?”

Sirius couldn’t help his smile. It actually hurt a little. “I thought I was a player of a generation.”

“You are the player of a lot of generations.”

“Shut up.”

“You are!” Leo shouted from the other end of the line.

“We’ll be there soon,” Logan said. “We’ll come straight to you.”

“And…” Sirius hoped his hesitation was enough to let Logan know he was asking about their cabin.

“Uh-huh, all good there.”

“Does Sirius Black know your secret?” Finn asked. “The one you’ve been keeping from us.”

Logan’s laugh was bright. “He does.”

Sirius opened his mouth to reply, then jumped a little when someone fell down into the sand beside him. Regulus just raised his eyebrows in greeting before looking out onto the water.

“I do,” Sirius said. “Drive safe, okay?”

He heard the click of Logan hanging up. It left him to the waves, the sun, some music now coming from the house, and the quiet ways of his brother. Regulus was frowning at the waves and picking at one of his nails like he was nervous.

Sirius reached out, hesitating for only a moment, and settled his palm lightly on the back of Regulus’ neck, scratching gentle fingers through the buzzed hair there. To his surprise and relief, Regulus leaned into his touch.

“Salut,” Sirius said. “You okay?”

Regulus nodded. “Tomorrow,” he began, then cleared his throat. “There’s someone coming tomorrow night.”

“D’accord,” Sirius said. Phone calls taken on the porch.

When Regulus looked at him, the angle of the sun made his already pale eyes look almost clear. “And she’s important.”

Remus never wanted to see the cabin any other way again. Thomas, Noelle, Kasey, Natalie, Alex, Cole, Layla, Moody, Arthur, Pascal, Celeste, and all the Dumais children. Katie Dumais, facing away from Remus, had clearly just said or done something that had Julian looking after her darting away figure, slack-jawed.

He was happy to stand at the grill with his dad and let a steady rotation of his friends keep him company. He liked watching Sirius across the beach, standing with James and Kasey in only his swim trunks with the sun making water gleam across his chest. He felt like someone had stretched out every single knot in his muscles after that afternoon. Getting his mouth on Sirius, getting his warm skin slick against his own. Remus flipped a burger with his eyes still mostly on Sirius and nearly sent the whole thing to the floor.

Only the sound of car wheels on the gravel drive made him look away.

“Fucking finally,” Remus shouted as Finn popped the driver’s side door. “You were going to miss dinner.”

“It’s not my fault someone can’t use Google maps,” Finn called.

“I can,” Logan said, pushing out of the back seat. Leo, coming around from the passenger’s side, gave Remus and smile and an eye-roll.

“Sorry, Loops,” Leo called. He went to the trunk, popping it before emerging with two coolers.

“Oh my God,” Remus said. “What did you do?”

“My mama’s famous crab cakes,” Leo said. “The best french onion dip you’ve ever had, and some fresh sourdough bread, baked this morning.”

Remus handed the tongs off to his dad and went to the the coolers. “You’re the best, you really just needed to bring yourselves.”

Up close, Remus finally got a proper look at Logan, tucked under Finn’s arm. He had a taped-up cut along his cheek, a fresh looking black eye, and scraped up knuckles.

“Oh God,” Remus snorted. “Your face.”

“He’s going to ruin the wedding photos,” Finn said. “So sorry.”

“You said I looked hot last night,” Logan replied.

“You do. But in wedding photos? I don’t know.”

Logan hit his chest weakly and slipped out from his grasp to go find Sirius.

“Ice that knee of yours!” Remus shouted after him, and Finn cackled.

Remus watched Sirius’ eyes find Logan walking towards him. He watched Logan hug him tightly, despite the fact that he was wet. Logan pointed to the dock, and held up his hand. By Sirius’ smile and nod, Remus guessed he had asked if that was where the ceremony was going to take place. Sirius kept talking, fast for him, fast like he was telling Logan a play while they were on the ice, as they walked over to the drinks table. Finn was already there, pouring coke into a cup for Logan and a gin and tonic for Leo and himself.

The sweeter sight was the expression on Sirius and Logan’s face when Pascal came up behind them and put an arm around them both.

“Leave this, yeah?” His father appeared at his side, squeezing his shoulder. “Go hang out with your friends, bud.”

“Oh, thanks, dad.” Remus handed off the tongs.

“And try to keep your brother from bouncing off the walls at Alex O’Hara’s presence.”

Remus laughed. “He’d just lose it over someone else.”

Remus made it about six steps before Thomas Walker cornered him.

“All right, Lupin, it’s time.” Thomas leaned back against the side of the house and crossed his arms. “Let’s talk party.”

“Ah, yes,” Remus said. “It’s you against my beautifully sleepy town.”

“It really is,” Thomas nodded sagely. “And guess what? I’m going to win.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “My God. Come here.”

Remus got himself a beer and steered Thomas towards where Sirius, Regulus, and Leo were sitting around the easy-burning campfire Hope had gotten started. Remus took the spot beside Sirius, Thomas beside Leo.

“Tell him to chill,” Remus said to Sirius. “In your Captain voice.”

Sirius blinked at him, cleared his throat a few times, then shook his head. “I think it only happens when it has to.”

Leo laughed. “What, you can’t summon it on command?”

“He would if he could,” Regulus said, then stood up. “Come on, Le. I have a feeling more wedding talk is about to happen, and I’ve had enough of that to last me a while. Let’s get some food.”

“Bring me more chips,” Sirius tilted his head back as Regulus walked behind him.

“No,” Regulus said.

Sirius cleared his throat again and said in a deeper voice, “Bring me more chips.”

Regulus laughed. “No.”

Sirius popped the last of the ones on his plate into his mouth. “No captain voice, sorry.”

Thomas clapped his hands, then rubbed his palms together and leaned forward. “I have sat you both down here today to discuss—le parties.”

“It’s not French by adding le,” Sirius said.

“La parties,” Thomas grinned.

“I was trying to explain how sleepy—” Remus began.

“La parties,” Thomas tried again.

Sirius reached for Remus’ plate and threw an olive at him.

“—this town is,” Remus grabbed the second olive out of Sirius’ fingers and ate it. “And I mean that in the most loving way possible, quiet. So. I recommend we go to some of the bars and not have anyone lose their minds.”

“How do we make sure you don’t end up at the same bars?” Thomas asked.

“I’m going to be at the house Logan rented mostly,” Sirius said.

“And I want to go to that pub on main street,” Remus said. “The owner and I go way back, he’ll give us the roof.”

“Also,” Sirius said. “Would it really be so bad if we ended up at the same—”

“Not at all, baby,” Remus said at the same time as Thomas’ enthusiastic, “Yeah.”

“T,” Remus laughed. “We—this isn’t exactly the world’s most traditional wedding. We’re already getting married on a dock. You really think we can’t be together for—what?” Remus raised his eyebrows. “Our ‘last night of freedom?’”

“All right, all right.” Thomas held up his hands in surrender. “Think of it this way, then.” He pointed to Remus’ beer. “Can I have a sip, I have a speech and no drink.”

Remus handed it over, sharing a smile with Sirius.

Thomas’ sip turned into draining half the bottle and handing it back to Remus with a grin.

“Think of it this way,” Thomas said. “It’s not just for you. It’s also for me.” He raised his hands, looking over both shoulders at the yard, the fire, the tables where people sat eating. “It’s for us.” He looked towards the beach and smiled, pointing. “It’s for them.”

Remus followed his gaze and smiled, too. Finn and Logan were in the water, Logan in Finn’s arms, their heads bent close together.

“You’re together,” Thomas said, and when Remus looked back at him. “And it sort of feels like you always have been together. You have a long time to be together in your togetherness.” Thomas tilted his head, thinking, then spread his hands again. “This togetherness is for us, too, to appreciate and celebrate both of you in the ways you deserve. Not just as a couple. But as yourselves.”

“You enjoying yourself there, T?” Remus asked, trying not to smile.

“Well, only if you let me throw you some parties.”

Sirius laughed. “D’accord. Throw us parties.”

“For the record, I was never not ready for a party,” Remus stood and sat beside Thomas, settling his arm around his shoulders when Thomas did the same. “But I liked the speech, T.”

Thomas grinned. “Just wait for your wedding day, Re.”

Logan walked through the entire Lupin cabin, moving between having to squint against the setting sun, which angled perfectly into the lake-front sitting room, and blink so his eyes adjusted to the darker rooms. He’d even gone upstairs, where he’d heard Hope direct people towards to change out of wet bathing suits. It was a bit of a maze. Not because it was large. The house was on the smaller side—though Leo would make him reevaluate what he considered small—but had been divided up into more rooms than usual. Bedrooms, cozy but tiny. He poked his head into what must have been Sirius and Remus’.

No Finn. He used the top window to better search the yard, then went back downstairs and onto the porch to search the beach. Finally, he found him. In the water, floating alone near the end of the dock. His toes surfaced every once in a while as he floated on his back and Logan wanted—he didn’t know what he wanted. He wanted him, wanted to be in that water where the sunset had turned the lake into rippling orange and pink glass.

When Logan reached the dock, Finn must have heard the shake of the boards because he turned.

“Oh, hi there, baby,” Finn grinned.

“Hi.” Logan set his drink down as he lowered himself to sit at the very end, putting his feet in the water.

Finn’s chest was pale beneath the water as he stroked towards him. He stayed low as he stopped in the water just below Logan. His shoulders took on the pink of the sky and Logan leaned forward as best he could and brushed his fingers over the freckles there. Finn caught one wrist and kissed the inside of it. Logan let him, admiring the way the light caught on his face and how the water had pushed his hair back.

“Where’s Le?” Finn asked.

“Catching up with Reg.” Logan nudged his toes against Finn’s chest. “Been looking for you.”

Finn wrapped his hands around Logan’s ankles and gave a small tug. “Come in with me.”

Logan bit his lip, smiling. “Okay.”

Finn watched as Logan stripped off his shirt and drained the last of his drink.

“Cold?”

“Not at all,” Finn said.

He had barely submerged in the water before he was in Finn’s arms. Finn dunked them anyway, and the sounds of the party momentarily silenced in the clear water. Logan felt Finn’s mouth press to his, and then they were in the evening air again, and Logan blinked the water out of his eyes. Finn’s skin was warm as he coaxed Logan’s legs around his waist.

“You need a haircut,” Finn said.

“I know,” Logan said, wiping his hair back. “What about the beard? Sirius was making fun of it.”

“I’d call it scruff.” He smiled at Logan’s scoff. “And I think you should keep it a few more days.” Finn leaned forward and bit gently at the stubble on Logan’s jaw and lowered his voice. “Will you suck me off later? Scratchy.”

Logan groaned and pressed their foreheads together. “I’m in a wet swimsuit, you can’t say that right now.”

“But you have to before you shave,” Finn pressed his smile against Logan’s cheek. “Promise?”

“Ouais, ouais, promise, now shh.” Logan looked down. “Are you standing?”

“No, I’m the most still water-treader in the world.”

Logan splashed his hand down and Finn spluttered through a laugh when he got a face full of water.

“Yes, I’m standing,” Finn said. “And I could hold you like this for hours.”

“Do it.” Logan sighed and let himself relax into Finn’s hold. “I love everyone, but I’m tired of talking to anyone but you and Le.”

“Well, I’m right here.” Finn tilted his chin up and kissed Logan quick. “What do you feel feel like saying?”

Logan blinked. It could have been the feeling of water running down his back and shoulders. Or the sun setting. Or the warm air. Or just that he was alone with Finn in a large body of water and with his muscles still aching from the play-offs, he could imagine that it was his heart aching instead. He’d had just one drink, he needed to drive them to their cabin later, but it was recent enough that everything went soft like those colors in the sky, and, for a moment, Logan wanted to fall apart.

“Hm?” Finn asked softly, but Logan could tell he knew. “What’s that look for? I was just messing.” His brown eyes—but no, the light slanted across them, it turned them lighter, so light that Logan thought he could see deeper into them and might find the right words there. The words that Finn always seemed to have. Finn blinked, and a drop of water fell down his cheek.

“Don’t,” Logan said in a rush, putting a panicked hand on Finn’s cheek. “Don’t cry, je t’aime, I love you—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Finn said, eyebrows raised in surprise. “I’m not crying?”

He blinked again, and Logan watched two more droplets fall. Water, he realized. Lake water caught in his eyelashes and brows.

“Oh,” Logan said softly. He let his hand slide to Finn’s neck. He closed his eyes, shaking his head at himself. “Oh. Good.”

He couldn’t see Finn’s kiss coming, but it wasn’t a surprise.

“We’re all right,” Finn said. “I love you, too.”

Logan nodded. He kept his eyes closed, tightened his hold on Finn. He wouldn’t bring it up. That midnight in the water, years ago. All the words that had pent up in his chest. He didn’t need to be comforted through it.

“And I’d ask you to race me to the raft,” Finn whispered. “But I’d definitely win.”

Logan smiled, his laugh falling between them. “I’ll win tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Finn said. “This mystery of yours.”

Logan smiled and pushed his hands through Finn’s hair until he could cup his jaw and pull him into a kiss. Finn brought him closer, hands on Logan’s ass in a way that wasn’t any better than him biting at Logan’s jaw. Logan hummed at the brush of Finn’s tongue against his and locked his ankles tighter around Finn’s waist.

“Do you think anyone—” Logan gasped out the words as Finn got his teeth on his throat. “—would notice…”

Finn’s kisses dissolved into a laugh and he pulled back to look at Logan. “The house is right there, Lo.”

Logan looked over his shoulder towards the shore, frowning. “Hm. Ouais.”

Finn’s laughed harder, head tilting back. Water lapped against them as he hoisted Logan closer. “Your face.”

Logan snorted. “Well, I…” He looked pointedly down at Finn’s bare chest.

“Are we not going to have our very own private beach soon enough?”

Logan opened his mouth. “Quoi—that’s not—” He leaned down and stopped Finn’s laugh with a kiss, keeping their lips close as he growled, “You don’t know anything.”

“I know you,” Finn replied.

“You said I was a mystery.”

Finn laughed hard. “I said it was a mystery, but you are also a baby mystery of your own.” He slipped his hand beneath the waistband of Logan’s swimsuit to feel his bare, smooth skin. “I love solving you…”

Logan took Finn’s lower lip gently between his teeth and pulled playfully before letting it go.

“Finn, Finn, Finn…” Logan whispered, and Finn’s gaze went melted. Logan pressed a kiss to one corner of his mouth. “Je t’aime.” He pressed a kiss to the other. “Je t’aime, je t’aime.” He brushed their noses together, back and forth three times.

“I know where you went,” Finn said softly.

Finn, Logan thought. Ocean. Nice. Say something, anything—

Finn spanned his hands up Logan’s back, thumbs swiping back and forth over the high of his ribs. “Just now. Just for a second.”

Logan nodded quickly. “Just for a second.”

Finn’s smile started small. “And where are you now?” He squeezed Logan tighter, a small pulse of his arms, like a reminder.

As if Logan needed one. Logan grinned, amazed, absolutely giddy with relief that they were both grinning at each other through this. He pressed a thumb over Finn’s lower lip, feeling his smile. “Ici. I’m here.”

Sirius was coming up the stairs to change out of his wet swimsuit when his bedroom door opened and Finn and Logan stepped out.

Immediately Finn had his hands up. “Just dry clothes were put on. Cross my heart.”

Sirius laughed, eyeing Logan’s face. “Oh yeah?”

Logan was blushing, but Sirius figured he’d probably be doing that either way.

“Ouais,” Logan said, fingers curling around Finn’s to push his hands down. “He’s telling the truth.”

Their hands swung lightly, tangled between them.

“Pretty jumpy for the truth,” Sirius said. “Hey, actually—” He nodded to Logan. “Can I talk to you for a second?”

Logan’s eyebrows went up, but he nodded. He looked up at Finn. “Meet you…wherever Leo is.”

“Deal,” Finn said. He patted Sirius’ shoulder on his way down the stairs.

Logan followed Sirius back into his bedroom and sat on the end of the bed. Sirius did a double-take, but someone—Remus—had made it up from earlier that day. He cleared his throat and turned towards the dresser.

“What just happened?” Logan asked in French, amused.

“Nothing,” Sirius said. “So, parties. Tomorrow night.”

“My house, yeah.”

“But also—” Sirius took a fresh shirt from the dresser and turned towards Logan as he pulled it on. “I talked to your sister. I hope that’s okay.”

Logan’s green eyes went soft. Maybe worried.

“Shit,” Sirius said, hands on the ties of his swimsuit. “Sorry.”

“No, no,” Logan said. He wet his bottom lip. “I just…”

Sirius reached for his underwear and shorts while Logan settled on words. When he turned back towards the bed, Logan gave him a helpless sort of shrug.

“I don’t mind. I just don’t want everyone to get their hopes up too much.”

“Yeah,” Sirius said. “But the entire fanbase—both of them—are calling for you to go back where you want to be.”

“Well, not all of them.”

Sirius nodded. He’d seen the hateful stuff, too. He knew however they ignored it, it still dug deep. “How are you with all that?”

Logan flashed him a half smile. “Captain.”

Sirius laughed and sat beside him on the bed. “Yeah.”

“I’m fine,” Logan said. “Which is…” He gave his head a sharp shake, like he was clearing it. “I…I was talking about this with Noelle, actually.”

“Hm,” Sirius said.

“I think about how long I dreaded it,” Logan said. “I mean, at school, just staring at Finn, completely gone over him, and dreading it. But now it’s here. And I have them. And I’m…so perfect.”

Sirius feigned a cough around his words. “Back to back Cups.”

Logan shoved him.

“Really, though,” Sirius said. “I know it’s partly that they want your talent in their own city, but people also want you and Finn and Leo…” Sirius shook his head. “I am sorry you didn’t see the microphone when you talked about going home, I know you probably didn’t want all this sort of attention, but…It’s incredible, Logan. It’s not just that they want you to be where you think home is. It’s that they want you to be with who you think home is. A couple years ago, if I had told someone I thought Remus was home…” Sirius shook his head.

Logan didn’t say anything. He twisted his silver pendant between his fingers.

Sirius frowned. “Tremz?”

Logan cleared his throat. “Ouais. It’s even more than I had hoped for.”

Sirius hesitated. He tried to think of what he’d said that was wrong, peering closer at Logan’s face. When he did, he saw that the silence wasn’t distress. Logan was biting back a small smile.

“Oh…” Sirius laughed lightly, disbelieving. “You saw it.”

Logan gave a funny little shrug.

“Oh my God, Tremz. You knew the mic would catch it. You wanted them to hear you.”

“I am trying to get home.” Logan sighed. “I thought it might get some more people on my side.”

“Fuck. Do the boys know?”

“Still trying not to get their hopes up,” Logan said. “But…Leo really likes that I said it. Leo also really, really missing me being home. I mean, Finn, yes, of course, but Leo and I…” Logan swallowed. “We’re quiet together in a way that’s just for us. I miss him so much.”

Sirius nodded. Remus was that for him. But he was also someone he could be louder with, more free. It must be interesting, to be in Logan’s shoes. Different needs met by two different people.

“I also couldn’t have done it without you,” Logan said. “And Remus. And I know nothing happened the way you wanted it to, but…I couldn’t have done anything without both of you.”

Sirius put an arm around Logan’s shoulder and Logan clasped his hand. “And a lot of people will say the same thing about you.”

“Well…” Logan was pink-cheeked again. “Ouais, I hope.”

They sat there in silence for a long moment, smiling among the sounds of their friends and family outside.

“Okay, truth, before we go,” Sirius said and gestured towards the bed. “Did you and Finn…”

Logan scoffed and hit him in the chest. “No.” He paused. “Almost. In the ocean.”

“Tremz, that’s not a fucking ocean.”

Logan paused, then laughed, closing his eyes. “I meant lake.”

“Jesus Christ.” Sirius rose and stretched, then went to the mirror to try and wrangle the wet tangles of his hair.

“Don’t tell me you and Remus haven’t—”

“Are you joking? If Julian so much as sees us on the beach, he comes with us.”

Logan snorted. “Oh shit. Maybe you two should take our cabin for the night.”

“I accept.”

“Non.” Logan stood up. “Not a chance, that was a joke.” He moved to the doorway. “But hey.”

Sirius was still laughing as they walked down the stairs together. “What?”

“Tomorrow night’s going to be fun.”

Sirius nodded, then put a hand out to stop Logan from turning out of their quiet hallway just yet. “Hey.”

Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Even if it doesn’t happen next season,” Sirius said. “We keep trying.”

A small flash of fear—because of course Logan was scared of that—but he nodded. “We keep trying.”

“I’m not kidding,” Finn said, squinting through the windshield from his place in the back seat as Logan drove slowly down a dirt road. “It looks like you’re taking us somewhere to kill us.”

The headlines illuminated the complete darkness save for a few solar lamps that illuminated house numbers. Each one was different—a 38 on a cluster of carved pines, a 46 on a bear raised on its back legs, a 50 on the silhouette of a lighthouse.

“We’re almost there,” Logan said.

“It looks like forest,” Finn protested.

“Harz,” Leo said from the passenger seat. “It is forest.”

“And I’m not taking you here to kill you,” Logan said. “You’ll see what I’ll do to you soon enough.”

“Hell yeah,” Leo reached over and squeezed the back of his neck.

Finn was quiet, but when Logan darted a glance in his rearview mirror, he was biting his lip against a grin.

“All right, then,” Finn said.

Leo threw his hand out. “Deer, Lo, deer, stop, stop, stop.”

Logan eased the car to a stop just as Finn let out a low whistle.

“Wow,” he whispered.

Three does, eyes reflecting at them in the headlights, stood at the side of the road, half hidden in the trees.

Leo rolled down his window, letting in the cool night air. “Hi, babies, hi.”

Their ears twitched at Leo’s voice, listening.

“Stay away from the road, sweethearts.”

Finn reached up and hit Logan’s arm, and they smiled at each other before looking back at Leo.

The deer looked on for another moment, tails twitching, before they darted into the trees, disappearing in a handful of silent seconds.

Logan found the right drive and turned in, letting the headlights wash over the house.

“Oh, Lo…” Leo leaned forward in his seat, peering up through the windshield.

Logan cut the engine. “My mystery.”

Leo grinned at him before opening his door.

While they got the bags, Logan checked his email again and then turned up the flashlight on his phone to find the small rock that the owner had hidden the key beneath. It smelled like pine inside and Logan felt right at home. He flicked on lights as he went, revealing a spacious living room with windows facing the lake and a kitchen large enough to host in. He smiled as he listened to Finn and Leo’s voices mixed with suitcase wheels hitting the floor and their footsteps following his.

They settled in easily, tired from the drive. They crowded each other in the bathroom, and when Leo snuck into the shower while Logan was washing the lake off of him, when and both of them emerged sated and flushed, Finn just grinned and turned the page of his book.

“That was fun to listen to.”

“Was it?” Leo straddled his knees and hooked two fingers into the band above the tight front of Finn’s pajama pants. He bent to kiss over the shape of Finn, then looked at Logan and tilted his head.

Finn cursed under his breath and closed his book. “I love us and vacations.” Logan watched as Finn tilted his head back and knit his brows when Leo bent to take him in his mouth.

Later, with a still fast beating heart, Logan lifted his arm and Leo knelt on the soft mattress until he could curl against his side. He pushed his nose into Logan’s neck and breathed in.

“Mhmm…” Leo hummed contently. He kissed Logan’s skin. “I think I’m going to sleep so damn good tonight.”

Logan smiled. It was Leo’s favorite sleeping weather. Logan had spent probably too long seeking out the very scene in front of them—porch doors of their master bedroom, currently thrown open with screens in place, letting cool night air in with the sound of lapping waves.

“I know you are,” Logan said. From the other side of the bed, Finn held out a fist, which Logan tapped with his own.

Logan could all but feel Leo relaxing, heavy against his side, his breathing already leveling out.

In the early dawn, and he wasn’t sure what had woken him, Logan found that Finn was staring up at the ceiling. Logan watched the hand on his stomach rise and fall with his even breathing, his fingers fiddling with the tie of his pajama pants. The string had gone wonky in the wash, one side far longer than the other. He looked to Leo. He was already looking back, his blue eyes gray in the dark room. He had his head on his own pillow, not Finn’s shoulder like Logan, but his hand was curled protectively around Finn’s bicep.

It felt good to all be awake. Just being together, laying quiet with all the time in the world tomorrow morning. This was home. It didn’t matter if he’d never slept in this bed before, if the sheets smelled like a forest he didn’t know.

Logan held out his hand, fingertips towards the ceiling, palm towards them. Without a word, Finn picked up his hand and high-fived him. The slap was loud in the room. Logan just clicked his tongue scoldingly and kept his hand there. Leo’s laugh was a short release of air, and he held up his hand, too, palm towards Logan’s, questioningly. Finn pressed his palm right against the back of Logan’s, softly this time. An owl picked up a song somewhere outside. Low notes cooed through their window as Logan slipped his palm away.

Logan picked up the longer tie of Finn’s pajamas, the flat woven strand cottony to the touch. He heard the sound of Finn opening his mouth, probably to ask what he was doing, but he stopped himself as Logan nudged Finn’s and Leo’s hands together. Leo settled his fingers briefly into the spaces between Finn’s, squeezing once before straightening them again.

Logan took the string and threaded it carefully around Finn’s ring finger, then crossed over diagonally and wrapped it around Leo’s, just behind it. He wrapped that path twice more, three small figure-eights binding them together, then dropped his hand to Finn’s chest.

Finn’s heart was beating hard and fast, so fast that Logan felt his cheeks get warm.

Neither Finn or Leo moved. When Logan glanced them over, they were both staring at the string, at their linked hands, bound by Logan’s makeshift rings. Finn’s chest had stopped moving beneath Logan’s head, but it started up again in a deep, easy exhale. Logan cupped their palms and lowered them to rest over the pounding of Finn’s heart. Leo threaded his and Finn’s fingers together and kissed Finn’s shoulder through a smile. Logan settled his hand over theirs and closed his eyes, wishing there was something to bind them together like this every where they went.

#vaincre lumosinlove #coops #wolfstar #sweater weather lumosinlove #o'knutzy #finnlo #lelo #sunfish #smut #fluff

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rotagnus · 13 hours ago

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is this situation one you should worry about ? | [☆*: .｡o .｡.:*☆]

hiii guys!! my final week of senior year is officially finished. i still have some things coming up (prom & exams) so i'll take this weekend to refurbish some pacs!! after graduation i'll have a bit of a free-er schedule, so i'll be able to make more pacs then (as well as learn more about spiritual things!! i can't wait :D).

this pac is going to focus on your anxiety according to a certain situation. as you know, it is impossible for me to get all of the details right because this isn't a personal reading, but i'll try to be as specific as possible but still general. as always, don't force this to resonate. i may not be the tarot reader for you.

credits to @selysie for the dividers.

p1.

i think for a lot of you, you're nervous about new territory. specifically new places or the possibility of having to go to them. it seems that a lot of you don't necessarily have a choice in this matter; keep in mind when i say 'place', that can signify anything, not even a physical one. this is new territory for a lot of you and you're terrified that everything that can go wrong, will go wrong. you're feeling scared to your bones, because everything that you built is falling apart. my love, the truth is that you will be okay. the card symbolizing the end of this situation for you is 'celebration'. take it as something to ease your worries.

however, courage and leadership also fell out. so of course, my love, you must be brave. you must keep your head up. and i know you resent a lot of the people who ensured that they would never do the work you do, and simply benefit off of your beautiful efforts, but we all get what we deserve. breathe in, breathe out. you know you're special. i know it's hard to accept that you'll be okay, especially with a lot of internal anxiety, but i PROMISE you, you don't have anything to worry about, honey.

p2.

i think for this pile a lot of you lost something. 'the crumbling' fell out (which i interpret as the tower; it's two pillars cracking apart, hit by lightning, to reveal a field of flowers). for most of you, you're on the depressive side of this situation. not manic, you already probably had that phase before. many of you have given up on life itself, especially the things that you once liked; it's hard to enjoy things that remind you of a time when everything was relatively 'alright'. you're closed off, guarded, and you might be hating yourself right now, because you know that this situation is making you break apart.

as for the situation itself, it's funny; i got a lot of cards that actually made sense come out. 'council of light' and 'support'. so yeah, a lot of you can benefit one of two ways; either a circle of support on earth, or reaching out to divine figures, spirit guides, by prayer, meditation, or simply sitting in a moment of peace. you guys literally have open arms all around you; you're a very beloved person, y'know? by above, by below. you have this light within you. all you need is a shift in perspective; a shift that brings you freedom. i wouldn't worry too hard about this situation, instead, i would transform it into passion. gently ease your way back into your own shoes. everyone misses you.

p3.

you guys seem like you're unwilling to be on this adventure you're currently in LMAOOO. you don't wanna do things differently, or move at all. similarly to pile 1, this may be a new location, or a new state of mind. a lot of what's interesting to me is that 'patience' also fell out. i feel like you guys have already totally prepared for a specific outcome in this situation...probably the worst one, right? listen, this card says;

"pause before you take action."

"trust that divine timing is at work."

"be patient and play whilst you wait."

so i would definitely keep those quotes in mind. right now, try to quell your worries completely as they are going to get you nowhere, in this phase. i also got 'warrior woman'. so for a lot of you, you guys are feminine energies. the first in your lineage to step up and fight back against unfair standards. the first to embody this energy or at least try to in a way that's not toxic. the card says 'have you answered your deepest calling?" there we go, girl. what are you being told about this situation? truly? in your heart of hearts? i think most of you know that this situation is going to end up in a way that you may not necessarily want, but need. i also got 'leap--you go first. the universe will catch you'. as for how you can quell these worries...sanctuary and nature fell out. try to create a space for yourself that feels like it's just for YOU; not in a frantic household, not in a public place. hidden away, in a place that feels calm.

#love reading #pac reading #pick a picture #tarotblr #divine guidance #intuitive reading #tarot reading #pick a card #rotagnus #pick a pile

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scorpioriesling · 1 day ago

Note

🤍Please please please can we get an Azriel smut where he’s head over heels for you and you go to a formal event together and he can’t keep his hands off you all night and he pulls you away so he can have his way with you 🤍

Innocent Thoughts

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Modern!Azriel x reader

Warning(s): smut, 18+, mdni, nsfw

Summary: A fancy business event for your man does not go how you expected, especially when Azriel gets a little handsier than usual.

SR’s Note: I'm happy you guys are wanting more acotar content again (; That's what I began this account writing, and though I LOVE the empyrean stories, it's always nice to put acotar out there -- ESPECIALLY when it's Azriel. <3

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @bookofriverr @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus @lreadsstuff @paintedbyshadows (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

You knew something was up during the drive; the way his hand never left your thigh, and how he kept readjusting in his seat. He was nearly fidgety, and you'd been with your man long enough to know this behavior was atypical for him.

What really alerted you was his demeanor, especially as he talked with his superiors.

"So, we were considering the proposal submitted as far as changes coming in the 2026 fiscal year..."

His boss -- and luckily, one of his best friends too -- continued on, explaining a few important aspects of the job and the exciting new changes coming next year. You nodded politely as Azriel kept you tucked protectively into his side, his arm wrapped around the small of your back. His fingers lazily traced up and down the curve of your waist, the sensation through the silk fabric of your evening dress sending goosebumps across your skin. Rhysand didn't seem to notice, and if he did he ignored it -- but you couldn't.

You glanced upward, hoping to find an answer hidden in Azriel's expression. His face gave away nearly nothing, but you did notice the set of his jaw as he half-listened to his friend speak.

"That sounds great," Azriel responded, half-heartedly. Rhysand met your eye, and you simply shrugged. He leaned in, clapping Az on the shoulder before turning to glance at the extragavant dining table across the ballroom.

"I don't know where that head is at tonight," he said, his voice quiet. "And we're not here to talk business, I know -- but consider doing your lovely lady a kindness here. If you don't want to talk to me right now, fine; but please, take her to your seats and enjoy the wine we have tonight."

That must have pulled Azriel from his trance. Rhys clapped his shoulder once before moving to converse with others, and you waited only until he was out of earshot to approach the topic.

"Azriel," you said in a hushed whisper. He glanced down at you, his focus solely on you as you spoke. "What is going on with you tonight?"

He shrugged, shaking his head quickly at your words.

"Nothing, sweetheart -- I'm just fine."

A cocktail waiter passed with champagne glasses, and Azriel was quick to stop him. Taking two off the tray and handing one to you, he downed his entire flute in one go. Your brows narrowed as you studied him.

"You don't seem fine," you prodded, staring as he set the empty glass down on an empty high-top table. He sucked in a breath, his hand finding the small of your back. You shivered, his chilled fingertips brushing against the bare skin exposed there.

"C'mon -- let's sit," he suggested, guiding you toward the dining table and effectively dropping the subject. You sighed, trying to understand what could be bugging him so badly. He pulled out a chair, very gentlemanly as always. You took it, and sat beside him while still racking your brain.

How was he before you left tonight? Fine... handsy, sure. But overall, fine. He did the normal things he'd do, sitting with you while you got ready, kissing up your neck after you applied his favorite perfume...

The thought had you blushing. Maybe, if he'd had his way, the two of you would still be home, his head between your legs...

"Now who's the one acting weird?" Azriel said, his tone low and gravelly. You sucked in a breath, working to regain your composure. You cleared your throat, smiling politely as a waiter filled your wine glasses.

You spoke the minute he walked off. "I'm only acting weird because you're acting weird!" You defended, which only earned you a lopsided grin. Azriel sighed, placing his hand atop your knee.

"You really wanna know why I'm all worked up tonight?" He asked, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. You grinned at the featherlight touch, catching a few awwed glances out of the corner of your eye. You nodded, and Azriel placed a tiny kiss against the skin of your neck.

"It's you," he said simply. You reared your head back in confusion, falling silent as the plates of food were set before you. Couples around the table had gone back to their own conversations, eating and talking with one another and in turn ignoring you and Azriel's.

"Me?" You asked, reaching for your fork. "Whatever have I done?"

He chuckled, patting your knee before straightening again in his chair. He picked up his fork and knife as though all was right in the world, hovering then above his uncut chicken breast.

"You keep me falling for you, more and more everyday." He explained, cutting into his meat. You paused, staring sidelong at him as he uttered the sweetest words you'd ever heard. "I'm crazy about you, and I think you know that by now -- some days, I just can't help my mind from wandering, you know?"

He popped a bite of chicken in his mouth, not addressing the newly presented implication. Glancing down, you finally noticed it; he was ignoring the growing need for you, and surely had been all night. Was it the dress? The perfume? What had him so worked up tonight?

"I can see the wheels turning in that pretty head of yours -- and I can assure you, it's everything you're thinking and more."

･ﾟ: *✧

The lights in the bathroom were dim as you stumbled inside, Azriel hot on your heels. Sweat trailed down your chest and between the valley of your breasts, a product of the vigorous dancing you had done all night. Azriel engaged just as much, swaying and spinning you around to the beat of each and every song. That is, until the two of you reached your breaking point... at the same time.

"Give me that fucking mouth," he growled, his hands finding your hips as he spun you, pushing you against the bathroom door. He devoured you in an instant, his mouth molding so familiarly with yours as he pressed against you. Your hands instantly found his hair and tangled in it, soft moans slipping in the moments the kisses were broken. He groaned as he pressed his cock against you, his erection more than obvious through his well-tailored dress pants.

"Ohhhhh God," you whispered breathily, your fingers tugging softly at his deep brown locks as his lips moved from your mouth to your throat. The heat between your thighs grew more and more as he shifted his hips, rutting his cock in between your thighs. His lips parted, his teeth nipping and sucking at the soft patch of skin near your collarbone.

"Az... Azzie please," you panted, your hands gripping now at the collar of his button-down. His gaze lifted to meet yours, his pupils absolutely lust-blown.

"You've teased me all night, sweetheart," he muttered, his fingers trailing up your thighs and hooking around the lace bands of your underwear. "I'd do whatever you asked, I love you so fuckin' much."

You groaned at his words, your heart swelling and fluttering all at once as he tugged your panties down your legs. Eagerly stepping out of them, he chuckled and kissed your cheek.

"Good girl," he praised, pushing up the fabric of your silky dress to bunch it around your waist. He sucked in a breath at the sight of your bare cunt before him, and was quick to slot his knee between your thighs. You relaxed against the muscle of his leg, unintentionally clenching at the feel of his skin pressed against yours.

"God... Az-" You squeaked, rocking your hips against his muscled thigh. He grunted at the feel of you, his eyes glazing over as he watched you get off on nothing more than his leg. Your hands gripped the tops of his shoulders, clinging to the material of his shirt like a lifeline -- however, Azriel tired of the teasing in only a few minutes time.

"I can't play around anymore," he growled, his hands bracing your hips. He hoisted you up, pinning you against the door as you gasped at the lack of contact. His right hand left your waist, quickly unbuckling and ripping his belt off in the absolute sexiest fashion possible. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip as you watched him tug his cock free -- and God, the sight of his beautiful, angry red tip had you nearly orgasming right there.

"I need you baby; right here, now," he grunted, aligning his cock with your entrance. His gaze found yours as he pushed his lips against yours again, slowly nudging your opening with his cock. When he pulled back, he only whispered one question; "Please put me out of my misery and take my cock? Can you do that, my love?"

You nodded quickly, eager for him to just fuck you already. He took the hint and entered you slowly, pressing deeper inch by glorious inch. You sighed as he finally sheathed fully inside of you, but your relief was short-lived. In an instant, he pulled out halfway, only to plunge his dick all the way back in.

"Yes! Az," you breathed, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt as he continued thrusting up into you. He grunted as he worked his cock into you, practically drinking in every little noise you made. His half-lidded gaze and messy hair didn't help as far as prolonging your orgasm, either.

He inhaled sharply, his fingers squeezing at your curves. He slid one hand beneath the curve of your ass, lifting one of your legs and wrapping it around his own waist.

"God, baby... feel so fuckin' good," he growled out, ramming his dick in even harder. You squealed over the feeling, your eyes rolling back in your head as his cock rubbed against your deepest spot. He leaned in, kissing and biting again at your neck as though you were his last meal.

Your eyes flew open as you felt your orgasm approaching, the usual restraint you reserved for it slipping as the various glasses of champagne finally made their way to your head.

"Az... Azriel you're gonna make me cum," you panted, watching as his tongue slid against the skin of your throat. He groaned then, gazing into your eyes as his thrusts began to slow.

His breaths began coming slower, small groans escaping as he held back his own release. Your jaw fell as you finally tumbled over the edge, crying out as you clung to Azriel. Your arms wound around his neck as you spasmed around his cock, the feeling returned a minute later as his length spasmed inside of you.

"Fuck! Oh fuck," he gasped, shoving his dick all the way in as he painted your walls white. His arms had wound around your waist, holding you close to his chest as he came inside of you. The bathroom fell silent as the two of you panted, sharing breath as you worked to come down from your highs. When you pulled back from him finally, you gazed into his deep brown eyes, your heart soaring as he gazed back at you with pure and undying adoration.

"You're unreal," he breathed, leaning in to kiss you softly. You giggled, sliding your lips against his. He pulled back a moment later, grinning as he swiped at your lower lip.

"I think you're unreal," you admitted, which made his smile grow. A smiling Azriel was a rarity, and one you wouldn't trade for the world's most uncommon gem. The two of you basked in the silence a moment longer, that was until a harsh knock came at the door.

"One second!" You called, covering your mouth to stifle a laugh. Azriel set you on your feet again gently, stooping to pick up your discarded panties as you worked to readjust your dress. Looking in the mirror, you were surprised to find only the flush on your face as a dead giveaway. Azriel bent at the knees, holding the bands of your undies for you to step back into. Grinning, you obliged, delighting in the way his velvety touch felt against your thighs.

When he stood, he sighed once before ruffling his own hair. His eyes found yours in the mirror, widening as yet another knock came from the other side of the door.

You turned, taking his hand in yours again.

"How do you expect me to go out there and pretend that like... I'm totally fine and I didn't just have one of the best sex sessions of my life?" You whisper-yelled. Azriel flashed you a grin, winking as he looked down at you.

"Guess you'll learn to fake those n ot-so-innocent thoughts. Trust me baby, I've been doing it all night."

･ﾟ: *✧

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #a court of silver flames #acosf #a court of frost and starlight #acofas #read more #acotar smut #acowar #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #azriel smut #azriel #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel spymaster

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 3 days ago

Text

Heart of the Matter--Chapter 6: Florescence

Joe meets his rather elusive football icon, Trey Dominic, and worries he might barely be able to get a sentence out. But what waits for him is so much bigger than one singular first impression.

With matters of the heart on the line, every play will count.

Black F!OC (Marlowe) x Joe Burrow.

Series Masterlist | Series Playlist | Joe Burrow Masterlist | Main Masterlist

_________________________________

The air sweats with the thick moisture just like Joe’s armpits in the dress shirt.

He promised Marlowe to clean up more than he usually does for the banquet. Yet, Marlowe failed to mention that June in Virginia would be this unforgiving. Joe’s not totally forgotten how the Southern heat swaddles differently around the skin. How it coats the body like a heavy winter coat. Virginia has nothing on Louisiana, yet, somehow he’s still not prepared for how much his black dress shirt is clinging to him. The white undershirt only adds to the trapping heat.

Joe reaches up to his neck and undoes the first two buttons. He hopes the gods won’t tell Marlowe and if they do, Joe’s hoping he can get sympathy because he is dying as he stands in the shades of the trees. There’s a slight haze in the distance, letting him know it’s hot as hell. The main event occurred inside. All the speeches and dinner were served inside. But now there’s mingling: football legends past and present, local community politicians, and several pastors too. Joe’s not sure how they all are surviving in the full suits as they stand around the tables outside. Joe spoke as he passed, making a beeline for the tree he’s huddled up, praying for another breeze. It comes sparingly and Joe’s going to need it.

Especially now that Joe spies Trey striding over to him.

Joe’s not had to look up at many people since his growth spurts in middle and high school. He’s always managed to have at least a few inches over everyone. Not that it seems that way on the football field now—there are people right at his eye line or just a hair over it. Height doesn’t save Joe though as he watches the steady steps of Trey.

On paper Joe edges Trey out. It’s unusual for running backs to be as tall as Trey is. The position demands someone with a smaller stature, harder to pick out, someone easy to blend in and break through the gap. And even though Joe knows he’s a relatively tall guy, he feels like he’s no match for Trey. As if the decades Trey’s been off the fields have only been days, given that he’s still kept up his physique. As if the two and a half inches Joe has on Trey don’t exist in the first place.

It’s hotter now under the slight gap in the collar from the undone buttons and even with the breeze. Because there’s no way for this not to come to fruition. Nowhere to hide. Joe knows that stare, the assessing gaze. Joe attempting to date Marlowe is only an added layer of heat on the otherwise unseasonably warm June Sunday. Trey is stopped along his way, pulled into a couple conversations off to the side, the anticipation pooling and dripping over Joe’s palm.

Staying calm under pressure is an art form and must be practiced religiously. But staying calm in the presence of the father of what’s hopefully soon to be a full on romantic partner is a craft Joe’s not yet perfected. He’s good, but he’s no match for the tease, the words that fall out of Trey’s mouth, “I’m shocked you still showed up.”

“I like to keep true to my word,” Joe returns, taking the outstretched hand in a firm handshake.

Trey grins, shows all his teeth with the action. “I like that. Black was definitely a choice. Not one I would’ve assumed you’d make.”

“I hadn’t anticipated it being this hot.” There’s something in Trey’s smile, the quick shake of his head—it all dances in amusement, and it’s clear to Joe he’s missed something. Tiny. A small detail. Something buried. It’s going to haunt him, will keep him up tonight while he attempts to sleep before his flight back. But Joe can't get distracted now so he tacks on, “Thank you for the invitation. I’m grateful to be here.”

“I meant what I said about keeping in touch. I appreciate you coming. I know it’s the last few weeks of the off season for you so I appreciate it.”

Joe ducked in occasionally during the optional period to the facility. Nothing crazy, but just enough to keep his face around for the new guys as they got drafted. Most of his off season obligations have been filled by now. Though, Joe’s still making an effort for himself to keep some time open. At least for now, he’s been able to ease back into his on season routines. “So you keep up?” Joe questions.

“I keep up,” Trey’s answer comes slowly with a nod. Trey’s gaze falls away from Joe but only for a moment. It reminds Joe of how Trey answered about being in Ohio, that his family was happy so that meant he was happy, but it was clear that more was raging beneath the surface of those words.

“Miss it?”

Two words, that’s all it is. Joe shouldn’t be having this conversation. How could he not though? It’d happen eventually, perhaps. He likes to imagine it’s an inevitability because that door keeps creaking open with every conversation Joe and Trey share. Besides, it’ll be good for Joe to start seeing Trey not just as the football god Joe dreamed Trey up to be, but just a man. A man who had hopes and dreams. A man who put everything he had into a sport--one that still has love for him. But a man who now, Joe thinks, is just as fragile as anyone.

“You could say that,” Trey answers with a nod. Slow again. Like he’s trying to keep something back behind his teeth.

Joe doesn’t think about football too much in his offseason. He is obsessed, dedicated, and devoted to always getting better. But there’s moments where Joe wants a break himself. Yet, whenever a conversation is brought up about football and it’s not about Joe, Trey’s name is weaseled into the conversation. Commenters still wonder what Trey does, why he hasn’t come back to the sports world. Perhaps the answer’s always been hiding in plain sight. Maybe if Joe took more to think about what he’d do after such a devastating injury, he wonders if he’d disappear too.

“Do you miss playing?” Joe tries again. A correction. It’s Joe feeling for what he shouldn’t be again. Trying to unlock the door that was barred away for a reason undoubtedly. But Trey’s just a man, like Joe is.

The nod is near immediate—one singular motion, one pump to Trey’s head, and nothing else. Joe can only stare for a moment, feeling the quiet understanding creeping up his spine. A chill cutting through the heat.

Trey Dominic is a man that loves playing football. And now he can’t.

“But,” Trey starts with an exhale that follows--drawn out and heavy as the forced out air comes. “I think you’d appreciate some AC more than anything. I can see you sweating. Follow me.”

And Joe does, as they pass around tables and Trey’s stopped a couple more times, Joe’s just a half a step or so behind, nodding at the new face. The blast of the AC ices Joe’s skin, makes him shiver slightly but it’s so needed. He exhales heavily, sneakers silent over the tile floors. The plains go on for miles around them. Bright grass and well maintained florals in the distance as it peers back in on them from the glass windows acting almost entirely as walls.

“How are Marlowe and Korey?” Trey asks, still leading the way back towards the indoor tables, holding various finger foods.

Caught red fucking handed. If Joe doesn’t answer, he looks like a fool. If he does answer, he might be dead in the water.

“Last I heard they were both okay.” Diplomatic. Posed. Like Joe’s learned how to do, nothing that suggests that he saw them both Thursday. Hopefully nothing that suggests he’d called again on Friday too, stressed about what to pack for the banquet.

“Korey seems to adore the sunflower she was given.”

Trey’s slow as he picks up the plate, takes the spoon for the meatballs and places a heap onto the tiny plate. Joe’s heart thunders in his chest. It’s too soon for Joe to get the shovel talk. He hadn’t even gotten Marlowe to agree to date him. Though, Joe wasn’t going to disappear just because she needed more time. He wouldn’t force it. He would simply just be around. Courting—even though the word and phrase feels terribly dated and makes Joe want to gag, it is what he’s doing. He is courting. Intentionally. Specifically for Marlowe. But that’s not information Joe assumed Trey would get. Joe’s tongue goes thick in his mouth, now needing water more than anything. He’s trying to find the right thing to say.

But Trey beats him to the punch. “Want anything?”

“Oh, I’m-I’m okay. Full.” Shit—now he sounds like a bumbling idiot. Not how Joe imagined this conversation going.

“You’re not in trouble, kid,” Trey laughs. “Relax. Just like making you sweat.”

“A sick sense of humor,” Joe offers, tutting out his laughter too.

“Someone has to have it. Sure you don’t want anything?” Trey questions again.

“I’m sure.”

“Anything else planned before the season starts?”

Joe’s done more jet setting than he usually cares to do. It made the time go by faster than usual. A fact that worries Joe that somehow he’s not actually let himself relax. “I hope not. I’m a little tired on the whole traveling for events circuit right now.” There is a secret hope, of course, that prior to the season starting Joe can make progress and waves with Marlowe. But that’s information no one else needs.

“It seems to be a lot more…involved than when I was around.”

“Not all bad. I live off the endorsement money. So, it’s work at the end of the day.”

“And the salary?”

“Most of it is invested or helps pay other’s salaries.”

Trey’s work over the meatball is slow. They’re good meatballs. Joe went for seconds to get more earlier. There’s something in the sauce that’s just sweet enough to cut some of the acidity of the barbecue sauce. Joe wasn’t able to place what it was. Though, now, from his peripheral he spots the place card and spies Welch’s Grape Jelly when he ducks his eyes under the still gaze of Trey.

“Smart to do so,” Trey relents finally.

Joe exhales, chest relieved to have a solid chance at another inhale rather than the held breath. It’s not the shovel talk Joe thought he was going to get. Though Joe’s well aware of the delicate position he’s in with Trey.

“I try,” Joe returns in a bit of a whisper. The silence settles for a moment and Joe has an itch to fill it--an unusual fact for himself. It’s less about not wanting to let the moment pass with Trey and more about wanting to build a solid relationship. It’s not lost on Joe that he’s still a little star struck, still giddy at having this opportunity to have the space where he could get to know Trey better. “You know, when I started playing as a little kid I really wanted to be a running back.”

Trey snorts at the confession, polishing off the last of his meatballs. “Is that an attempt at flattery?”

“Truth. I really just wanted the ball,” Joe laughs.

“And then what happened?”

Joe shrugs, slipping his hands into his pants pockets. “Fate. I was a coach’s kid, so I’m pretty sure it was that.”

“Should’ve stuck with flattery.”

There’s a dry edge to Trey’s quip. But he’s still smiling, a tiny grin that if Joe wasn’t paying attention he’d swear wasn’t there. It reminds Joe of Marlowe’s sense of humor, the sarcasm that’s subtle but still clear.

“I’ll know better for next time,” Joe laughs.

“Next time? Bold assumption there.”

Joe’s digging his own grave. He knows that, and he figures perhaps an extra foot wouldn’t actually kill him. “I prefer the term cautious optimism.”

“Well, bad news for that cautious optimism: I love to be the bearer of bad news.” Joe’s not sure what the quip means until Trey continues on with, “I have to tell Marlowe about the faux pas.”

“Faux pas?” Joe questions. His brows knit together in the confusion. What had Joe done wrong? This was going well. Or at least Joe thought. Was it the buttons? He peers down at them but it’s not that many undone buttons.

Trey points down to Joe’s feet. Joe stares down at the sneakers. They’re clean, he made sure of that. And like the question had been uttered, Trey answers, “It’s a banquet, Joe.”

“What about your shoes?” Marlowe asked.

Her phone was resting further away from her on the kitchen counter, it looked from Joe’s perspective. Joe watched her take the comb to Korey’s scalp, splitting the section of hair into a thinner row. Marlowe worked the teeth of the comb over the split a couple times, pulling at almost invisible strands of Korey’s hair. Korey sat relatively still, occasionally shifting as she worked on the goldfish Marlowe poured out for her earlier. Korey was feeling better, but she still sounded sick, and her fever didn’t break until the middle morning.

“Oh, I feel pretty good on that front,” Joe replied.

He looked down at his closet floor where he’d pulled out a few options. His Jay’s were still clean. He had a couple other dressier sneaker options. Joe eyed his loafer. Hated the way they rubbed at the back of heel, but he needed to at least consider them. Additionally, if Joe couldn’t make a decision now, he could back them all and make a choice day of.

Joe sighs, dropping his head on his neck to stare up at the high white ceilings as the memory settles behind his eyes. The ceiling almost looks like they could go on forever, but Joe knows they come to an end. They have a point where the ceiling stops and the floor above them starts.

Joe manages to keep a good poker face, does not smile at how softly Marlowe made sure she wasn’t braiding Korey’s hair too tight, her voice a coo of, “Too tight?” and Korey’s bubbly responses—Joe asked later what she was doing. All he could see was the repeated tuck under and pull, tuck under, and pull of her fingers, flatting the strands of Korey’s puffy hair down to the scalp. He wasn’t sure if they were three strands she was working with or just two. That part Joe has to keep to himself.

“I packed loafers too and when I realized it was indoor and outdoor, I opted last second for these,” Joe explains, “for my knee and calf.”

The second the words are done, Joe drops his gaze to Trey’s feet. The dust and dirt cling to the otherwise shiny black of the dress shoes. The tsk falls from Trey’s lips in a hiss. “Hate to break it to you, kid, you’re not the only one with a knee surgery under his belt.”

Trey never says kid like he’s demeaning Joe, considering the two and a half decades between Joe and Trey. The term always falls with tenderness, reminding Joe of his own father’s various nicknames. It’s familial, the kind of utterance might as well be Joe’s name. It’s true, Joe’s not the only one with injuries that they’re constantly coaxing. And though it’s still in the back of Joe’s mind about what it means for Trey, for someone who loves to play the game and not be able to because of said injuries to his knee, it feels like a good sign that there’s levity to Trey’s words.

Joe laughs, shoulder shaking before he looks back to the rest of the attendees outside the glass walls. A few have resorted to using their napkins as makeshift fans. “I hate dress shoes,” Joe confesses as he turns his head back towards Trey. It may not earn him sympathy, but it is the truth.

“We all hate dress shoes.”

“Do you have to tell her?” Joe’s not going to bribe Trey per say. But if he’s got wiggle room, he will take it.

Trey’s grin is devious over his face. His tut of laughter is dark and deep. “Think about it like this: Next time, you’ll know better.”

He’s hoping Marlowe’s gentler. If he has to be crucified for a shoe choice, Joe’s praying there is pity for him at least on Marlowe’s end. Yet, Trey’s jest is all too easy to return back to him. “Someone said it was a bold assumption,” Joe quips.

Trey tips his head to the side, face pulling into exaggerated confusion. “I thought the phrase was cautious optimism.”

_________________________________________

June melts into itself, slow and thick all the same, twisted in the kind of way that Marlowe finds time to crawl and speeds by simultaneously. One moment she’s on FaceTime with Joe cornrowing Korey’s hair, the next she’s in meetings, at her studio, covered in the dust of setting powder and eyeshadow. The next she’s hurriedly throwing bikinis into her suitcase, pausing with brief wonder: Would he like the way I look in this color?

Not that it truly matters, because she’s not even sure if it’s worth it. If she could date anyone. Marlowe doesn’t let herself fully ask, or sink into the question, if she wants to date Joe too terrified of the answer, a thing she keeps trying to bury deeper and deeper down. Joe agreed to give her time. She’d take it. But the way she grins at her phone makes Marlowe wonder if she truly needs the time or if she’s using it as an excuse.

Please don’t fall off the boat this weekend. I do not want to test how strong of a swimmer I am.

Marlowe grins at the text from Joe just as the alarm on her phone for the dryer goes off in her hands. My parents made sure I learned how to swim. I would not need a savior if I went overboard. But Q might.

Don’t forget the arm floaties for him then. Please tell him I said Happy Birthday.

I will let him know.

It’s only a weekend away. Just one. Marlowe isn’t a fool to think that she only needed this one weekend of a breather. Yet, these are the cards she’s dealt herself. This is the last ‘break’ she’s scheduled for a while. November and December will be quiet and slow for her, so she’s preparing in some ways for the storm of the slow season, needing to have a stash of income set aside for the crawl back up. Better to be ragged now than stretched thin financially later.

At least, that’s what Marlowe keeps telling herself.

She passes by Korey’s play room, the laundry basket tucked up under her arm—the last round of laundry she needs to do before she leaves later this evening— and there’s the soft whisper of a tug. A lurch in Marlowe’s gut. Enough to make her pause. Just long enough to feel the grasp, the cold spindly fingers tightening at the back of her neck. There’s a thunderous sound around her, Korey barreling from deeper in the house. Her laughter high and breathy as Marlowe’s mother comes shuffling behind the little girl.

“Too fast for me to keep up with,” Regina laughs.

Marlowe wants to see what Korey gets up to in the next two years, the next five. But damn it if for a moment Marlowe doesn’t wish it was Malia to see it. If it had to be one of them, it could’ve at least been Korey’s mother who made it. The sting settles, the ice cold ghost touch searing her spinal column. Once June is gone, July will come and July will go. And Marlowe cannot stand August. But it’s not August yet. It’s still only June. Late June. Teetering on the edge of July, but still June with laundry to be folded. With a boat to be on. With Q to celebrate.

There’s still fucking time. Because it’s still fucking June.

So Marlowe turns, tells herself like she does all the other times, today’s not the day to give in. Today’s not the day to sulk. Today’s not the day to settle. Today’s not the day to fall. She focuses instead on the laundry, on packing the last pieces of what she needs for the weekend--ensuring she has all the necessities.

Do not give in.

Do not give in. A prayer that Marlowe can’t put her voice behind, just repeats it over and over in her head while she tucks, and rolls.

Do not give in.

The horn honk is unnecessary as Remi eases into a park in front of the house. Marlowe’s been perched on the front steps for the last ten minutes, since Remi’s on the way text dinged her phone. But it's a ritual for the two of them to honk no matter if the other person is waiting inside or outside.

Q slips through the opened passenger seat window. “Get in! Stop being slow, girl!”

Marlowe slips the sunglasses up onto her face--the chunky cat eye cut of the shades nearly swallowing her face. “Have fun, Auntie Marlowe!” Korey calls from Trey’s arms.

The sound of her voice is just enough for Marlowe. She’ll do her best to have fun. That was the plan after all. One last weekend to forget worries, to leave behind everything that plagued her. That much she could do.

“Be good for PopPop and Gma, bug,” Marlowe grins up at her niece, pressing several sticky lip gloss kisses to the little girl’s chubby cheek.

“I will. Promise!” Korey in return presses a kiss to Marlowe’s cheek. “Bring me back seashells pwease!”

“Seashells. Got it.”

She’d have to ensure to do that first, before the drinks and before Q dragged her into the dancing. But Marlowe would not forget it. She’d make sure of it. Then Marlowe’s off, sliding the tiny suitcase--meant to fit under the seat on an airplane--over the concrete at her side and a tiny backpack thrown over her shoulder. Marlowe’s learned how to pack it light and pack it tight over the years.

The bass rattles Marlowe’s teeth when she settles into the back passenger seat, next to Chase. All friends from college. Q’s fingers waited for the SUV to be free from the neighborhood on the dial before he turned the music up. The bass carries them all the way to the airport--their voices poorly echoing back the blast of beats, from Megan the Stallion to Beyoncé, from Beyoncé to GloRilla. Around and around they shout, singing, laughing on and off key.

Nestled into the chairs of the gate, all six eyes turn to Marlowe. A coordinated effort, like children pressed up against the counter looking at all the ice cream options. Marlowe can feel the hot gazes from her friends as she drafts the simple, Waiting at the gate now, text.

“I bet it’s Joe,” Q mutters, daring to be the first.

She tries not to smile, tries to roll her lips back over her teeth. It’s no use. Her phone shakes again and Chase leans over, dramatically into her shoulder, leaving Marlowe unable to hide her screen. “Joe says, ‘Glad you made it safely. Please let me know when you land and get to the house.’”

“So sweet it makes my teeth hurt,” Remi scoffs.

“And you’re not dating this man?” Q questions.

Marlowe shakes her head, heart pounding against her ribs. This has been the latest round of conversation over the last couple weeks. The thing that Marlowe wishes Q would drop, but he’s not the type.

“It probably wouldn’t last long,” Marlowe answers with a shrug.

“What you mean to say is that you two are dating,” Remi corrects.

“We’re not,” Marlowe urges. She had time. She had fucking time. But god, hearing it back, hearing it said with such finality makes Marlowe wonder if she was being foolish.

“You’ve gone to dinner and a movie together,” she counts, holding up her finger. “He planned a second date that fell through because Korey got sick.” Remi pulls up a second finger. “However, he still went through on said picnic part of the date and showed up with medicine and snacks for Korey and flowers.” Remi holds up her ring finger. “You two call and text constantly. He watched your favorite childhood movie that’s not available on streaming. It has to be rented. I checked.”

“Sounds like dating to me,” Chase interjects.

“I have time,” Marlowe states. She can admit, now and only now, that it does sounds insane. Because they’re not dating. Joe agreed to give her time, to let her decide if or when this would change. If Marlowe could handle the concept.

“Time?” Q questions, brows furrowing and lips pursed.

Marlowe nods. “He likes me. And I-I like him. But I need time.”

“Need time for what?” Q hollers. It bounces off the thinly carpeted floors. The entire terminal seems to echo with the incredulous shout.

Marlowe sighs, slipping down into her seat under Q’s hot and confused face. She needs time, knows what the summer and fall bring for her. Joe needs to see that. Needs to bear witness to what’s really left behind. Because that will change his mind. If the schedule doesn’t, if living at home didn’t, if Korey didn’t change his mind, that surely would. She’s waiting out the inevitable, really. Even if she’d like to say it was more, she couldn’t risk it yet.

“You said it yourself you spotted him at his charity event,” Q clarifies. “You just said you like him.”

Marlowe did say that and Marlowe did watch him. When she slipped her dad the plate of food, she eyed Joe then, took in the rather subtle outfit—wide fit black cargo pants, the soft white tucked in t-shirt. He wore sneakers, yet of course, and completed the affair with a diamond chain around his neck. He looked put together and casual. The grin on his face was bright as he talked to her dad. She wanted to stick around but Korey huffed about needing to use the bathroom. By the time she got back to the table, Joe was gone.

When she spotted him again, he was in the midst of several rounds of photographs and she wasn’t going to disturb him. It was clear, too, that the second the cameras were done flashing Joe was too. His smile dropped and his face settled not into a frown, but a sheet of exhaustion. Marlowe didn’t have courage to say anything else. Afraid that she’d be yet another depletion of his already clearly thin social battery. It wasn’t helped that Joe was pulled into conversations with some other people too immediately after the photos. He seemed polite, just tired. So she left it well alone.

Until he passed along that dessert at her birthday dinner.

Marlowe spotted Joe one table over after they’d been sat. Her heart ached with how rapidly it beat. But Marlowe was sure he didn’t recognize her. So she focused instead on Remi, Q, and Chase. She focused instead on her menu and actually enjoying her birthday dinner—the one thing she actually wanted to do. She did indulge Q when he asked if she wanted to go out to one bar later on. But she had one drink at the one bar, danced with Remi and then promptly settled back at home by 11PM. Joe and his friends weren’t loud next to them, not overly so. It was in fact the bouts of silence that made Marlowe notice them more than the bursts of laughter.

Even with her intrigued sparked all those months ago back in January, the fact remains: Marlowe’s not the same. An ache in her bones that she can’t get rid of. Pieces of herself she can’t reclaim buried. Talking to Joe brings back something—relief mixed with a sense of thrill—but everytime they talk Marlowe wishes she could crawl into Malia’s bed afterwards, giggling and laughing at the exchanges. Marlowe wishes she could call Malia, ask her for advice. And Malia’s not there. Would never actually be anymore.

“I just need time,” Marlowe snips. It’s sharp and fast but she can feel the sting of tears behind her eyes. Joe will leave and she’ll be alone. Again. Like she’s meant to be.

“Malia would want you to be happy,” Chase counters, arm slithering over Marlowe’s shoulders. “She was all about happiness, and joy, and enjoying life. No matter how big or small it was.”

But there’s no joy left. It is fleeting. Every second Marlowe spends crawling closer to August is a second she’s crawling closer to the reality left in her hands.

She is so utterly alone. Like she’s meant to be.

Because why would the world take her sister if not to leave Marlowe behind, if not to curse her? Why would death be so fucking cruel to her, to Korey, to their parents?

But Marlowe doesn’t really want to be alone. Not if she can help it. Not when there’s Joe. Who calls just to hear her voice. Asks if she’d had enough water that day. Wants to know about her world—makeup she’s doing, movies she’s watched, the tiniest of tiny things.

Marlowe thought the grief would get smaller the more she worked, and the more she looked after Korey, but it feels way too big. August took Malia from Marlowe two weeks shy of Malia’s 33rd birthday. And Marlowe will never forgive the month, the dates, the cosmos for being so utterly cruel to them.

And it’s not even August yet. It looms, though, around them, thick and heavy, and haunting. She still had time to enjoy herself. To celebrate Q. To enjoy the few weeks she has left with Joe before it goes still. It hurts to know that right now some of this is pretend. Fake it till you make it is what she tells herself. Marlowe’s just not sure she’ll actually make it through the fog of fall.

Marlowe clutches her phone even with the tears burning at her eyes, torn between wanting and aching. Wanting to tell Joe. Wanting his voice to help ease the ache even if it’s only temporarily. And aching for the fact that she can’t do itself, can’t dig herself out of the fucking hole she’s in, like the world’s up above her to leave her under crumbling dirt. It’s not like this all the time, but lately, as August pushes closer and closer Marlowe finds herself deeper and deeper into that hole. Torn between desire and hate. Desiring stillness, calmness and hating that Marlowe can’t seem to get a grip.

She’d heard about the stages of grief—sat across from a therapist for six short weeks and could parrot back all the right words on it in the right order, right cadence to make it seem like she understood—but still Marlowe’s not learned the lesson on how grief oscillates. How she’s looking for linear progress but grief isn’t linear at all. It loops, stumbles, accelerates, converges, melts, solidifies, echoes in ways Marlowe doesn’t know how to hold.

There are ups, and then there are downs. And one doesn’t negate the other. Marlowe’s just tired of the down, of the hole she keeps failing to climb out of. Every scramble throws dirt down her throat. Everything’s failing.

Q, Remi, and Chase aren’t wrong. Joe and her were practically dating. They were further away from friends than she cared to admit. Marlowe’s just not sure why moving on, living life, feels so much like losing her sister again. As if somehow if Marlowe leaves this place she’ll leave Malia behind. As if death wasn’t permanent enough of a loss to begin with.

“We’re supposed to be partying,” Marlowe returns, sniffling back the tears. Her inhales are shaky but as she inhales, holds, exhales, on repeat, they get steadier.

Q’s eyes are direct, tight as they take her in. “You can’t avoid this forever, Marlowe. You deserve to live your life.”

Whether it’s avoidance or just letting the natural progress of things take their course, Marlowe’s not going to argue. She instead stares back at Q.�� Inhales for a few seconds. Then holds before she exhales for the same measured beats. “It’s your birthday.”

“And I want you to flirt and tease the ever loving shit out of your boyfriend on my birthday,” Q offers. It’s softer, though his annoyance is clear behind his eyes.

“He’s not my—”

“Not yet. But at this point, I’m calling it like I see it. So I hope you’ve packed your skimpiest bikinis because we’re giving him a heart attack. And you can play this little game pretending like you two aren’t dating yet or whatever. But when you wake the fuck up, find me. Because that man is practically kissing the ground you walk on. Don’t get so holier than thou and masochistic on him that you lose him. I will not give you grace. This is me saying: I told you so.”

It’s tough love and Marlowe knows better than to argue with Q. So she nods, the stroke of Chase’s palm over her shoulder grounding her again to the airport’s gate, the hard seat she’s settled into. “I have a red one. Barely counts as a bathing suit.”

Q grins, a slow mischief quirk of his lips like the Cheshire Cat. He laughs just as the gate agent begins announcing their flight. “Perfect.”

Miami is hot. Not that it’s expected to be anything less. But the warmth is welcome, blossoming over their skin as the group of them wait at the curb for their Uber. The streets are packed, a fact that doesn’t surprise any of them. The first evening they spend in Miami is slow—acquiring food, laughing. But the ease of their first night is not enough to keep Q at bay. He slinks over to Marlowe while she’s on the couch of the house.

“Time?” she asks, peering up just as Q falls into the cushion.

“For?”

“Raiding my bathing suits.”

His laughter is spacey and bubbly but he nods. “Yes. And to say that I do love you.”

Marlowe knows that. Q wouldn’t be hard on her if not for love. He takes life by the reins himself. He’s active in a way that Marlowe adores. She wants to settle into the warmth of his radiance. Q has a vibrancy to life that when it settles onto her skin reminds Marlowe there’s things worth staying alive for.

“I love you too.”

“Tomorrow, you’re going to throw ass. And we’re going to take photos. And Joe’s going to lose his ever lasting mind and I know it’s hard since Malia died. And Lady Day, but I want you to live, Marlowe. You will live. Even if I have to ensure it with you kicking and screaming.”

Marlowe’s not sure if it’s a promise or a threat. With Q, it’s also a wildcard on how it falls. But she nods at the words all the same. “I like kicking and screaming.”

“Trust me. I know you do.” His voice drips with the annoyance, but he settles his head into the crook of her shoulder and neck.

Marlowe hopes that she doesn’t like kicking and screaming too much.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x black oc #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow fic #joe burrow series #h writes #joe burrow x oc #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow fluff

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sharpth1ng · 1 day ago

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curious, what specific problems do you think stu deals with? its pretty obvious for billy, but i wanna know what struggles you think he has day to day

I mean big time abandonment issues from his parents. He copes by being a social butterfly, being the funny guy everyone knows, so there's always people around and he doesn't have to be alone. Its part of the reason he's a bit of a dick-head class clown type, he's attention seeking because he doesn't want to be alone again.

Another offshoot of that is that he doesn't know how to let other people care for him, he's just not used to it. When his parents try to actually do some parenting he just feels resentment towards them. He'll let Leslie take care of him a little if he has no other choice, but if he can he'll always choose to take care of his own shit.

He loves to take care of other people though (mostly Billy). It makes him feel useful, in his mind it gives other people a reason to keep him around. But letting himself be cared for just feels awkward, can make him feel like a burden even if he's really not, it's overwhelming.

In general he prefers to focus on other people, like yes he loves Billy but also the level of obsession is a coping mechanism. Billy is something to focus on outside of himself, outside of the feelings and thoughts he doesn't know how to deal with

Outside of the abandonment issues he's really under-stimulated a lot of the time. He's actually very smart but he doesn't get good grades because he doesn't have a reason to care about school, and if he's not interested in something he struggles to focus.

On top of that he's a very sensory person, he's driven to seek extreme and new sensations and feelings. All of that leads to him being bored a lot of the time, and then he ends up with the urge to do something destructive or dangerous, just to feel something. It's a product of frustration and sadism, a desire to force his environment into a shape that might actually entertain him at all.

At least in Debaser he definitely struggles with self-confidence as well. It goes back to the abandonment issues, if his parents could just leave him all the time then he must not be that great, right? There must be something wrong with him. This is also why he wont talk back to Billy for a while. If he disagreed then his brain would tell him he was giving Billy a reason to leave.

He really starts to shift on some of this stuff in WoM though. It's both the near-death experience reminding him that life is short and death can come at any time, and the fact that Billy's response to it showed genuine care. He's lost an eye and he spent like a month in a coma, so he comes out of that shit with a stronger sense of self, and he just gives less fucks in general.

As a result when Billy leaves he copes with it a lot better than he would have before. He's got evidence Billy cares, even if he's trying not to. He's also just more self-sufficient, for the first time since he was a child Billy isn't around and theres no Randy or girlfriend so he has to get used to his own company (at least when Tammy's not available). Because of that I think his love for Billy turns into something a little more pure, because he doesn't need him as a distraction anymore, he just wants him deeply.

Alright theres a ramble. Idk if this is what you meant by specific problems but I hope it helps!

#stu macher #character analysis #debaser fanfic #wave of mutilation fanfic #ask #queue

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freakysaken-headcanons · 2 days ago

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Greetings it's me, the cock (heh), and I'm back at my bullshit again but this time with a very needy, very horny 7n7.

Like I'm talking about in heat style. Like borderline ABO but without the hassle of pheromones or the hierarchy thing, just 7n7 and his weird(?) biology of getting into heat every other month or so. And when his heat comes, it hits hard and leaves slow. Like, maybe it lasts around about a week but that 7 days is near torture for poor old 7n7, especially when he has no partner. And while there are ways to cool himself off and keep his heat in check, it's not effective as straight up having sex because at least it temporarily satisfies him enough to resume normal function throughout the day. Although his heat does come back the next day as brutal as ever.

Like, we're talking jumping on any dick in sight 7n7 sees kind of thing. Honestly, it'd be kind of like the adrenaline thing where he becomes more stronger but horny version.

Just imagine 7n7 being put into a round while in heat and by god, he wants to go sloppy toppy on a big one right now but he can't because everyone's currently trying to survive and he feels uncomfortable and vulnerable being in the open like this. Add to the fact that in such a limited area, he's bound to bump into any survivors and god forbid he gets too horny and just jumps on them and beg them to breed him full while in the middle of the round. Worse is that the time is ticking down so, so slowly and 7n7 really wanna play with himself in his own room and away from any people or danger. So he did what he could only think of and decide to hunt the killer instead to pummel them down (except coolkidd because he doesn't wanna hurt his son so he just endures the countdown out as much as he can while using his clones as distraction but the other killers are fair game tho)

Anyway, round ends unusually quickly, 7n7 scurries away to his room and after a brief discussion and exchanging of information the survivors realize that none of them did anything to make the round end that fast so it must have something to do with 7n7, right? Speaking of, where was he anyway?

So they send someone to find the ex-hacker. And by someone, I mean those who don't have a bad impression of him at the current canonical moment so that'd either be Guest, Chance, Two Time, or Shedletsky, I believe.

But let's just say they sent Guest over and he goes over to 7n7's cabin but before he can even knock on the door, it opens and he gets dragged inside and thrown on the ground by a very horny, very out-of-it 7n7 who's barely even able to hold onto his rationality and keeps begging as he pants heavily, caressing Guest's chest, "Please, please, let me ride your cock, ngh, your cock, please, please, ah, please, my body feels so hot, ungh, I can't think properly, I need something in me, come on, come on--"

Of course, the moment Guest even says a word of approval or hints at it, 7n7's ripping Guest's clothes off. He has a military vest on? Boom, ripped in half like it was paper just like that.

I am not kidding about 7n7's strength, he becomes a powerbottom, y'all. Can't you see the vision?!

Like, in the past when he was a hacker, 7n7 used to blow off steam by causing destruction and mischief all around. Basically channeling his horniness into destruction and property damage lol. But now that he's grown, he's mellowed out and obviously can't really do property damage in the survivor's area. The only damage he'll do here is to himself cause he's making sure he won't be able to walk properly the next day--

Anyway, Guest's drained dry the time morning comes. Like, I'm taking about 'Quagmire from Family Guy suffering from OIA' kind of levels dry. He was barely able to handle 7n7 the whole night.

Now, imagine if someone else figures out 7n7's condition and decides that they want to tap that dilf ass. I can just imagine there'd be survivors 'conveniently' having excuses to be in 7n7's vicinity like intentionally walking past his room again and again ("Chance, you've walked past his room about 8 times now, just knock on the damn door."), trying to bring him food and snacks (can totally see his as Elliot, Shedletsky, or Guest,), trying to lure 7n7 out to them (Two Time and Taph, maybe. Perhaps Builderman, too), or just straight up knocking on 7n7's door.

Now like, imagine Noli knowing this fact because he and 7n7 used to be buddies. Maybe the two even had a fwb kind of situation in the past and now he can't tap the dilf because he has no way of going into the survivor camp lmao rofl. He's seething in jealousy at the other survivors and just becomes more motivated with killing them when it's his turn to be killer.

Anyway, 7n7's heat week knows no tiredness or bounds. He will ride and he will drain until there's nothing left but a husk of the survivor's (or killer's?) self.

- 🐓 anon

holy shit this is long

10/10 headcanon btw

#forsaken nsft headcanons #forsaken nsft #im not tagging all that #🐓 anon

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htfs-ranked-on · 1 year ago

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ranked on how their kiss feels? (sorry)

no apologizing!! this is a fluff friendly blog!!

cuddles: like everything he does, his kisses are fast and a little bit rough, but full of passion and excitement.

giggles: queen of classic romance, her kisses look and feel like something straight out of a hallmark movie. most likely to smile while trying to kiss her partner

toothy: probably the gentlest kisser because he's had to learn to work around the teeth

petunia: she keeps her kisses short and simple, but they're remarkably pleasant all the same

handy: he has a tendency to lean into it and there's a non-zero probability that he'll overbalance the both of them and send him and his partner to the floor, but the kiss itself is a good balance between gentle and passionate

nutty: this man kisses with his whole body. it's rough and a bit extreme, and he'll DEFINITELY knock the both of them over, but there's no denying he's excited about it. he'll also follow up one kiss with a dozen more peppered all over his partner's face and neck (´-ω-`)

sniffles: there's a very predictable pattern with him, where he starts off with a very gentle, plain kiss, and then about two seconds in he gets overwhelmed with affection and leans in to deepen it. he does this every time and it's incredibly endearing

pop: nothing super remarkable about his, just a quick and gentle smooch

flaky: they always manage to catch their partner by surprise with the amount of energy they put into their kisses. they're fast, but they really grab on and lean in with it!

the mole: like everything else he does, his kisses are not super high energy, but he likes to draw them out. very soft, but he'll be there kissing his partner for a good couple minutes.

disco bear: if it's someone he really cares about, he's shockingly restrained about it, at least at first. he's the most likely to put a hand on his s/o's jaw, but other than that, he mostly lets them decide how intense they want that kiss to be, because he's afraid if he tries to take too much he'll scare them off. his kisses get more passionate as he gets more secure in the relationship.

russell: he kisses like he learned how to kiss from a 1950's etiquette book. it's not unpleasant by any means, but it's very clear that he doesn't do this that often

lifty: his kisses are casual, until they aren't. he'll start with a quick kiss, but if nothing stops him after the first one, he'll spend the next 45 minutes in a full makeout session, completely disregarding location or if people are nearby. most likely to bite his partner's lip (gently!)

shifty: very fond of dragging his s/o in by the shirt for a messy kiss. very likely to follow it up by kissing and biting at their neck if they don't stop him

mime: partial to quick, rapidfire kisses all over his partner's face. will smudge face paint everywhere if he isn't careful

lammy: the best way to describe her kisses is "cheerful". she's also very likely to smile while trying to kiss her s/o, and she's the most likely to start laughing from how happy she is to have someone special in her life

flippy: it always takes him a second to relax, but once he does, he completely melts into it and kisses his partner like it's the last thing he'll do. he takes their face in both of his hands and it's like he's trying to pour himself into them. it's very intense!

splendid: his kisses are as dramatic as he is. he's the most likely to turn a simple kiss into a full spin and dip moment if he isn't stopped from doing so

splendont: 50/50 on his kisses either being fast and rushed (he's a man on a mission), or lazy and drawn out (he just wants to enjoy it). either way, he's a lot gentler than any other time

#htf ranks #anonymous #hey. hey guys! do you want to know a fun fact about the mod (me)?#i am actually aroace and have very little romantic experience #all my romance headcanons are a shot in the dark and the ones involving petunia and splendont specifically tend to be a leetle bit projecty #but you guys keep coming back for more so i must be doing something right 🙌#by NO means am i saying to stop sending them though they're very cute #ranked by character #romance ranks #mod's favorites

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f1owermoon · 9 months ago

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sorry i just. need to rant for a second

#cause dude the whole joost situation is SO fucking upsetting #he's mentioned over and over again how overwhelming this whole overnight success thing has been for him and to respect his boundaries #and instead of yk respecting his wishes “fans” go and make things worse by constantly overstepping and being creepy and weird like hello???#like why can't we all just be normal and take a step back and enjoy things #these people are gonna end up driving him off the internet and i wouldn't blame him one bit #and the worst part is the people who should get the memo obviously don't (or refuse to) bc this isn't an isolated instance #like its been going on for a while now #idk man i just think about how hard it must be for him rn #one of the things that turned me into a joost fan (besides his music) was his personality #like i obviously dont know him on a personal basis #but from the little bits ive seen he comes across as a really genuine and sweet and kind dude #super thoughtful as well. like i just love the way he thinks and his take on things #like i remember watching his eurovision interviews and just thinking oh man this dude's a ray of sunshine LMFAO #also the literal definition of resilience like dude's been through so much stuff and hes always managed to come out on top despite of it #and thats something i really admire about him too. like the way he put it as not letting your traumas be just that #but also something that can drive you forward #but yeah dude's had more than enough like he deserves to be happy and have some peace and ppl keep ruining it for him and it makes me upset #like i actually slept like shit last night and woke up feeling terrible and i wonder if what went down yesterday w the whole live thing #has anything to do with it lmfao #and you may be like ok well youre taking it too personally and letting it affect you #and yeah maybe youre right LOL but i cant help it i care about the guy and i want him to be okay #he seems to have a really good support system though so i hope things blow over soon and he can finally have some peace #anyway. rant over! 💋#raquel speaks

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snail-day · 20 days ago

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Clubbing with Roommate!Suguru is… painful. For him.

He’s not a clubbing guy. Never has been. It's all too loud, sweaty, and far too many hands that grab without asking. He’d rather stay home, finish folding laundry, maybe light a nice candle, and pretend he’s the kind of man who doesn't ache every time his roommate walks into the room with that sweet little smile.

But when you asked, tilting your head, lashes batting, biting your pretty glossy lips, he said “sure” before he could think better of it.

It’s not that he doesn’t trust you. He does. He just doesn’t trust every other scumbag in that club. Especially not with you. Not with your too-short dress, or how you keep turning to beam up at him, all radiant and warm, grabbing his hand as if you both are something more.

And he knows that you don't know what it does to him.

He's been good. He has. Clean dishes. Rent on time. Never crosses the line, never watches you sleep when you're napping on the couch no matter how soft you look. Never touches you for longer than he should.

But you're making it so damn hard tonight.

Clinging to his arm when the crowd gets too tight. Throwing your head back laughing at something he didn’t even say, then tucking yourself under his chin like a lover. Like this is normal.

He should go home.

He should let you have fun and stop being a possessive freak. But the moment he steps even an inch away, he watches a pair of hands start to inch toward you, and he’s behind you in seconds, hands curling around your waist like it’s his right. Pulling you back against him, grounding you.

“Careful, princess,” he murmurs into your ear, his voice low, controlled. “This place eats girls like you alive.”

You just giggle, arm curling around the back of his neck like it’s a slow dance and not a crowded bar. You lick the sweat from the column of his throat, lips brushing warm skin, and he goes still.

Dead still.

Because he knows it’s the alcohol. Knows this isn’t real. Knows you’re just tipsy and touchy and you do this to all your friends, right?

Right?

But it’s him you’re grinding on. It’s him you keep pulling close, whispering all your secrets to. And it’s him you end up leaning on in the elevator, too tired to stand upright, blinking up at him with that soft, sleepy pout that ruins him.

“I don’t wanna be single forever,” you mumble, voice thick, fingers curling into the front of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll slip away.

He swallows. Hard. Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t say -

“You’d be such a good boyfriend, Suguru.”

His breath catches.

He doesn’t answer. Just chuckles, low and strained, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek as he cups your face. “Alright, pretty girl. Let’s get you to bed.”

It should end there.

But no. Of course not. Because you’re tugging at the hem of your dress with lazy fingers, swaying on your feet, and now he has to help you undress like some kind of saint. He must be some kind of idiot.

“Hands up,” he says gently, not looking at your bare thighs as his shirt falls over your head. “One foot at a time - whoa, okay. I got you.”

You catch yourself on his shoulders, giggling sleepily as your fingers curl against his broad shoulders. His throat is dry. His jaw tight.

He helps you into bed. Tucks you in. But you groan, turning your face into the pillow, then looking up at him, makeup smudged and eyes glassy.

“I hate makeup,” you whine.

He smiles, the expression soft and too fond for his own good. “Then come here. Sit pretty for me.”

You huff, but obey. Legs swinging over the side of the bed as he kneels between them, cotton pad in hand, wiping your cheeks with tender, practiced strokes.

“You’re so bossy,” you mumble.

He laughs under his breath, eyes fixed on your lips.

“You’re so pretty,” he says without thinking.

Your eyes flutter open. Looking up into his violet ones.

He stiffens.

“Okay,” he says quickly, flustered, “Bedtime.”

You curl up on your side, breathing soft, face peaceful. But then you groan again, clutching your stomach.

“…Feel sick,” you whisper.

And that’s all it takes. He’s under the covers with you, just hovering. Just watching. Just making sure you’re okay.

Not because he loves you.

Not because he’s dying to touch you.

Just… for safety.

He’ll tell himself that again tomorrow.

When he’s doing the dishes. When your bra’s still hanging off the bathroom door. When your sleepy voice whispers his name in the middle of the night and his heart damn near breaks.

He’ll remind himself: you’re just roommates.

And you’re making it so hard.

#TW: Drinking/Clubbing #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #geto suguru #Geto x reader #Suguru x reader #Geto Suguru x Reader #JJK x Reader #Suguru isn't safe from the yearning #Suguru geto x reader

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corkinavoid · 10 months ago

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DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

#danny phantom #dc x dp #dpxdc #tim drake #batfam #batman #dani phantom #danielle phantom #eldritch danny #but he wont admit to it #cork prompts #i wrote this as a way to relax #theres zero plot to it #just danny being petty #and dani saying mildly concerning shit in camera #it was her first day in the new school #all in all it was a fairly okay first day

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luveline · 9 months ago

Note

could you please write something with bombshell reader and spencer where there is a misunderstanding and she thinks he is cheating on her?? or anything angsty? love your work and just want to tell you how you are the best author in this fandom! besos <333

thanks so much, hope this is okay! fem, 1.2k

You bend forward and breathe.

Rough breathing. Audibly disjointed, and panicked, and drawing attention. You clasp at the side of the counter in the office kitchen and everyone standing around you goes silent.

Someone must tell someone who tells someone, because Anderson makes his way to your side soon after. “Y/N, do you need me to get someone?” he asks.

“Hotch?” you ask.

“Sure. Do you want to sit down?”

Your mouth isn’t calibrated to your mind. Your answer takes time. “I’m okay.”

You blink hard. Your lashes are sticky, mascara wet in the corners and pulling on each other as you force yourself to keep them open. When Hotch collects you, it is with an immense tenderness, and a poorly concealed confusion. “Hey, come on,” he says, guiding you toward the office doors, “let’s find somewhere quieter.”

You’re three steps down the hallway when you stop. You cover your face with both hands.

Your entire world just got rocked… you don’t even know how to say it. You can’t stop seeing it, his hand on her shoulder, his head tilted to one side like he always does with you, like he’s going to kiss her cheek. And she’d just let him do it.

“What happened?”

“They were kissing.”

Hotch looks down at you patiently. “Who?”

“Spencer and JJ.” You swallow down bile. Your voice sounds far away, “They were so close…”

“Are you sure?”

“No… Just, it looked like they were. She had her arms around him, he…”

You blink hard again, but the panic, the agony remains. You could see it, Spencer kissing her, and it just tore you to pieces right then and there. How could he do that to you? The stereotypical you’d always expected to be above races through your head. Weren’t you too much to lose?

“They were too close,” you say more firmly.

“Alright,” Hotch says softly. Then, because he’s your friend, even if you’ve thrust him into an awkward position. “I can work this out for you, if you want. I can kill him for you if necessary.”

“That’s not funny,” you say, because even if it were, it’s way too soon.

“I’m not joking. If Spencer ever did that to you, I’d… well, I wouldn’t hurt him, but he would lose my respect, and he would lose yours. Do you believe Spencer would put that at risk?”

“You think I’m overreacting.”

Hotch gives you a look. Full Hotchner. Understanding, patient, a little humorous. “I honestly can’t imagine a world where Spencer does something that would hurt you, that’s all. I’m not trying to mock you. I’m not saying you can’t be upset.”

You realise after a few deep breaths that he was trying to drive you from a panic attack, and he did it successfully. You swallow a nervous lump.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I think I can kill him.”

“I don’t doubt it. Do you want to?”

“Depends on what I saw,” you mutter, turning away from the glass office doors as they open.

“Well… perhaps you can–”

“Hey, what are you guys doing out here?” Spencer interrupts, breathless as he slides around Hotch and takes your arm in his hand. “Angel, I need your help, urgently. JJ’s earring got caught in my hair, I’m pretty sure I’m bald.”

You squint at him, still a little breathless yourself.

“Hey, are you okay?” he asks, looking between you and Hotch with regret. “What’s wrong? You look sick.”

“What did JJ do?” you ask.

“Angel?”

He squints. When you fail to offer a reason, he tips his head down to show you the top of his head. “Am I bald? She dropped her pencil case and I tried to grab it, and she yanked back. I tried to stop her from ripping it out, but she said I had to stop being a big baby.”

He laughs. Hotch lets out an audible breath.

“I’m hideous,” Spencer surmises from your silence.

“I didn’t really look.”

Spencer looks at Hotch. “Can you tell me what’s wrong? Please?”

You send Hotch a look that says please, don’t.

“I just felt a bit panicked,” you confess, a half truth to spare your dignity.

“I brought her out here for some quiet,” Hotch says.

Spencer frowns and holds your arm again with more softness. “You did? Are you feeling better now? You know, the sudden onset of panic is often caused by a process called overbreathing, have you felt that happen to you recently? It’s accidental hyperventilation. Low carbon dioxide in the blood.” His frown deepens. “Unless it’s not that. Are you worried about something?”

You watch as his hand glides further up, his thumb rubbing into the soft fat of your upper arm.

“Worried about your hairline,” you mumble.

Look, you’ll tell Spencer eventually, maybe. But for now your head hurts and you really had almost spun yourself into an anxiety attack, and you need the rest, and meeting his eyes isn’t easy.

If he were lying about the earring, you’d be able to tell. If he’d kissed JJ, the guilt would be pouring off of him.

“I can trust you to look after her?” Hotch asks.

“When can��t you?” Spencer asks sincerely.

Footsteps. A door opening.

You and Spencer alone, his voice warm with concern. “Are you okay? Really okay?”

“Can you hug me?”

“Sure I can.” He slips his arms through yours and pulls you in. “Do you need something? Listening to music can help, I have my headphones on my desk. Or we can just– walk.” His hand spread wide over your shoulder. “You’re shaking.”

“I am?”

“Just a little…”

You try your best to stand completely still.

“Oh,” he says softly, pulling you with more force toward his chest, “I’m sorry, I had no idea you weren’t feeling okay today. But it’ll be okay, I promise. I got you.”

It’s not often you feel like the smaller person in your relationship, and he doesn’t make you feel small, but the depth of his promise gives him this bigness that dulls the panic. Spencer… he really wouldn’t do anything to hurt you. You aren’t at fault for thinking they were too close, but there’s an explanation, and for now that’s enough to make you feel better.

“How much hair did she rip out, sweetheart?” you murmur, leaning back just far to see his face, not wanting to disturb the stable quiet. “Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Honestly I’m more worried about you than my hair.”

“Can I explain it to you later?”

“You’ll sleep over?” he asks, lips thinning into a smile.

“Yeah.”

“We’ll talk about it later,” he says.

You close your eyes as he cups your face with both hands. Later, when you tell him, he isn’t offended, just sorry. Necessary or not, he apologises and holds you with so much tenderness you’re assured again that Spencer hurting you would only ever be an accident.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

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melminli · 5 months ago

Text

Ddakji Man

summery - you were always struggling to make ends meet, despite having three separate jobs and you doubted that that would ever change. it felt like you were working out of your own casket and it would probably be more sustainable to invest in one at this point.

pairing: (gong yoo/ji-cheol) the salesman x fem. reader

word count: 1.5k

contains: slight arguing, cursing but nothing too graphic tbh

"Are you sure that you don't want to come?" One of your friends asked you a little sadly since you were about to leave the group. They rarely got to see you anyway, did you have to leave so early? "You never come with us when we go out for a drink, we miss you there, you know?"

You smiled a little tiredly as you strolled casually through the streets. "I'm sorry guys, I just have to work tonight." you tried to explain. Besides, I'm fucking tired and just want to get some sleep before then. I miss my bed.

Your best friend pouted as she hugged you from the side and you welcomed it, even if it made walking a little more difficult. "It's always work this work that. Live a little for once, all this stress is not good for you. You need a break." she spoke up before a thought came into her mind that made her a little furious. "Don't tell me that you're using work as an excuse to cancel on us. We can do something else if you want to. I'll even invite you, come on!"

You took a tired breath. I don't have any energy for this. "Trust me, I'd love nothing more than to get drunk with you and I'm not being sarcastic or anything." you clarified. Besides, I wouldn't work this much if I didn't have to.

"All right." she gave in unhappy. "We'll catch you one of these days, I can feel it..."

You laughed softly. "Please do," you replied and stopped in front of the stairs that led to the subway. This was the place where you had to part ways with the others and you did with a few more hugs. You enjoyed spending time with them and loved your friends with all your heart, but you were still happy to be a bit on your own now.

So you plugged in your cable headphones and played your current favorite song at the loudest volume before checking when the next train was going to arrive. Another twenty minutes? The last one must have just left. You decided to just sit down on a bench and wait while staring blankly around and quietly mumbling the lyrics to yourself.

A few minutes later, a person sat down next to you and you could see out of the corner of your eye that it was probably some kind of businessman or something. You didn't look closely out of politeness and turned your gaze somewhere else after checking the time on your phone.

"Excuse me." the unknown man tried to get your attention, but as expected, you could barely hear him over the booming music. He placed his briefcase in the space between you before leaning closer to your figure and looking towards you with a smile and finally, you seemed to notice his stare and turned in his direction. You took out one of your earbuds as you met his gaze. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

The man leaned back again. "I haven't said anything yet. I wanted to ask if I could talk to you, do you have a moment?"

You looked around a little uncomfortably as he maintained uninterrupted eye contact with you. "Ehm, well..." you stumbled slightly over your words. "I'm not religious or anything, sorry," you replied, having no patience for another discourse about Jesus and the church. This is the fourth time this week, lucky me. You thought to yourself as you were about to put your earplug back in.

The salesman held a hand in the air to stop you from doing that to keep your attention. You just looked at him uninterestedly and waited, it was going to be a while before your train arrived anyway. A smile graced his face after you were willing to listen to him again. "That's not what I wanted to talk about, I just want to offer you a chance."

Your face tightened a little in disgust and you were quite irritated by now. He seemed to be waiting for some kind of answer and didn't say anything else, so you had no choice but to interpret his words. He doesn't look like that kind of guy, but I guess it's always the ones who look the most decent. "Listen to me asshole," you said openly this time, all politeness gone as you pointed at his chest with your index finger. "I don't know you, maybe you're one of those men who try to talk in riddles to seem mysterious or something, but right now it just sounds like you're looking for someone cheap to fuck." you replied as you tapped his tie with each syllable and leaned a little closer to him as you whispered. "And I'm not cheap, so you might want to look elsewhere."

This time it was you who grinned as he looked at you in surprise and he let out a small grunt after you finished your sentence. The salesman straightened his tie while watching your figure before reaching for his briefcase and revealing its contents, "That's too bad, but also not what I was talking about," he replied as you looked at the money and colored paper in confusion. "Have you ever played Ddakji?" He asked you as he took out the red and blue paper. You just shook your head. "That's no problem at all, we can still play it if you're up for it."

Your gaze alternated from his hand to his face. Oh, so he's crazy. You finally concluded. I guess he is too handsome to be just a normal guy, huh. You turned your head away from him, something about the whole thing just seemed perverse to you. "No thanks, I'll pass."

"You sure?" He asked again, knowing he'd convinced you as soon as he brought the money into it. These people are all the same, she'll snatch the paper right out of my hands after I start talking a language she understands. "Every time you win, you get 100,000 won from me." He began, watching the look on your face. "But if I win, you owe me 100,000 won and -"

You sighed and interrupted him. "Yes, I'm sure. I still don't want to play with you, okay?"

This time the man looked at you with a cold, icy stare. A few minutes passed like this and you just tried to ignore his gaze, but then he started talking again. "All right. 200,000 won." he finally said, but couldn't seem to get your attention back. He tried again. "Is it because you've never played the game before? We can have a practice round if that would make you feel more comfortable." he tried again and got irritated when you continued to ignore him. He looked around the area as he considered his next move. Is she waiting for me to increase the prize money further? These people usually jump up happily at the first amount since they're so desperate. He tried to collect himself again. "500,000 won." he finally said. "I've got the money right here, you just have to go for it."

When is this stupid train coming. "Look, I don't want your fucking money, understand? I'm not a gambling addict or -"

"You may not want it, but you need it," he said, annoyed. This has never happened before, is she stupid? He then spoke out your name and described your miserable living situation as if you didn't already know about it yourself. "You also have quite a lot of debt for someone who is still relatively young, are you seriously going to turn down the money I'm offering you? For what, to prove a point or something?"

You didn't know what this man's fucking problem was, he should be glad that you didn't want to take his money, and how did he even know all this? You got up from your seat next to him when the train finally arrived and turned to face him one last time. "Fuck you," you told him and then went to the doors. You even looked out of the window at him as soon as they closed before you, to show him your the middle finger.

The man in the suit watched your figure irritated until it was gone and then, took the little card out of the inside pocket of his suit, that was meant for you. He turned it over a few times in his hand before closing the open briefcase with his other one. He had already played and lost a few Ddakji games in his life, which was the point of the whole thing - to recruit players for the actual game. However, the thought of what awaited them there meant that he was still in control of the situation. He was always in control of the situation. "I didn't loose, we haven't even played." he tried to reassure himself.

And yet the whole conversation with you left him feeling like he was utterly defeated.

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daenysx · 5 months ago

Text

tangerine x fem!reader, fluff/comfort ♡

-tangerine has this habit of crawling back to you.

cw; soft!tangerine, this man yearns and he's not ashamed of that, tangerine being a bit dramatic, exes to lovers (?), title is from do i wanna know by arctic monkeys, kissing many many times, my first time writing for him- please let me know what you think

wc; 1.5k

CRAWLIN' BACK TO YOU

It's not healthy to do this every night, is it?

No, because Tangerine doesn't know how to stop and it bothers him. It bothers him more than Lemon's insistent talks about Thomas the Tank Engine, so this is serious. He's a strong man, but- you sigh in content and he's glad to be witnessing this.

He really should stop watching you sleep.

You look peaceful like this. Happy, blissfully unconscious. Your pretty lips let out tiny breaths and he swears he will collapse. Something squeezes his poor heart. He wants to be closer, you look warm but are you really warm? He wants to drag his fingers on your skin, to touch you like he used to. Stained fingers, red with blood. He washed them before coming here, but it doesn't matter. He'll never be pure enough to touch you.

"Pretty girl," he whispers in the dark. You don't hear him. He gets encouraged by that.

He takes a hesitant step towards your bed.

"Look at you, sleeping so deep," Tangerine whispers again. "Always in peace when I'm not here, aren't you?"

Technically he is here, but you don't know that, and that's all he cares. He doesn't try to be a creep, he's just in love. He swears this is the only reason why he keeps coming back to his ex's apartment. He promises this is the only reason why he lies to his brother as he crawls back to you.

His fingers ache to reach out and touch you.

If he could be a better man, he'd be in your arms right now. He'd be kissing your collarbones and his rings would collide nicely with the soft fabric of your tank top. He's a coward, really. He's glad you're the only one who knows this side of him. It would be terrible for his job options otherwise.

You take another breath. Tangerine watches the softness of your cheeks move when you curl your lips in your sleep. You must be dreaming. He hopes you see him being good for you in your dream. Being the man he never could be in reality.

He really should stop using the keys you gave him months ago.

"I wish I could be-" he starts saying some stupid shit again. Oh, come on. He rolls his eyes at himself. "Pathetic. I'm being pathetic."

"You really are," you turn to your side. Fuck. Tangerine flinches.

"Wha- Fuck me-" he takes a step back. You were sleeping two seconds ago. He's shy all of a sudden as if he's not the man who keeps coming back to his ex after breaking up with her by saying 'you deserve better, love'.

You blink, looking so exhausted as you do that. Leaning on your elbows, you look up to him. His hair is messed up, his blue eyes are wide open. It's a good look on him. Objectively.

"You really did think I wasn't aware of you coming back here every night, didn't you?"

"Um- then why did you-"

"You really are being pathetic, Tangerine," you say. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"

"No, of course not-"

"I know you still have the keys," you say. "I knew you'd use them at some point, you never offered to give them back."

Tangerine finally manages to close his mouth. Clever girl, aren't you? He feels poorly, now that he can't call you his.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he asks.

You blink a few times. "I waited for you to say something first."

"Sorry to disappoint, love," he says, genuine this time. "I've been acting too cowardly around you."

You sigh, you really want to sleep. You wish he could just stop with this pity party and come to bed. Silent promises ring in your head, you want him back. He kept saying he's doing it for you, breaking up because he doesn't want you to get hurt. He swears even telling you what he does for living was the toughest shit he'd ever gone through. Who wants a guy like him anyway?

"Will you please- come here? Let's just talk about this in the morning, I'm so tired."

He blinks a few times. You have a death wish, don't you? Why the hell would you want him to get close if you don't?

"It's 'cause I know you still love me," you answer. Shit, he asked it out loud. "I know you're trying to make a stupid decision for both of us, still, but tonight I want none of that. Come here."

You pat the empty spot next to you and Tangerine obeys. He has no choice, his entire body feels like it's on fire with the distance between you. He takes off his suit jacket, lets himself be bare in front of you just like how you always want him. No unnecessary clothes in bed, you once said. I want to know you're here.

He lies next to you hesitantly. For a brave man, he's acting pretty fearful tonight. You wrap your arm around his chest, your fingers touch his skin as you draw a small circle right there.

Tangerine takes a breath. It's good, being here. He finally feels like he's where he belongs. You snuggle closer to him, always the bold one in the relationship. Many would expect it to be different, he knows, but he feels entirely yours and this is something he can't explain. He'd let you do anything you want, if you want to cuddle him, kiss him in public, or snuggle to his chest like a cat, so be it. He wraps an arm around you.

"Oh," he breathes. You smell wonderful. "My girl."

Fuck, he missed this. He melts right there, how can he be stupid enough to let you go? He turns to his side to hold you better, you put your head to the curve of his neck. His cologne hits you like an old memory, but that's nonsense. You never let him go.

"Missed this," he says. "Missed you."

"You're an idiot."

"That's what I am."

You tangle your legs with his, he kisses his way on your neck all the way to your shoulder. You close your eyes, let yourself be okay now that he's here. He can finally admit that he never left, he couldn't do that if he tried. He yearns for this, for every bit of affection he can have.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. He doesn't think he can wait until the morning to tell you this. You must know how sorry he is for even trying to go out of your life, how desperate he's been since the day he told you he wants to break up. How angry he made Lemon (even Lemon) because he's been a restless bastard and he doesn't even know what he's doing. "I'm so sorry."

You lift your head to see his eyes. Under the soft moonlight in your room, they sparkle. Just a deep blue, you've always loved his eyes. He's genuine and he's only a man. He looks like he can beg for forgiveness on his knees.

"It's okay," you say gently. No need for arguments, the bed is warm and he's here. You'll find the right time to talk about this. For now, though, you choose to put your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat.

Tangerine kisses your head. You like having shower before bed and he can smell your shampoo. He holds your hand under the covers and slides his hips to get closer to you. The pillows are soft and inviting beneath his head, he closes his eyes.

"Will you stay for breakfast?" you ask. He can stay forever if you want. Fuck, yearning turned him into a fucking romantic.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asks instead.

"Yes," you reply, getting closer to his pulse point. You put a small kiss on the tiny spot under his ear. He lets out a quiet hiss when you bite there playfully.

"Or maybe I should crawl back here with flowers in my hand," he says, adjusting his neck to give you more space to kiss. He can feel you smile against him.

"You really should," you tell him. "Later. Not tomorrow."

Your sound unsure. Hesitant with your loving as if he scared you. He did, though, didn't he? Tangerine is a man of sin and he really needs to atone for some of them.

"I'm not gonna leave," he promises. "Not again."

You nod, his loving girl. You could give him hell, but you're exhausted. He tightens his arm around you and lets you settle down on him.

Your breath is nice to feel against his neck. Tangerine relaxes. You fall asleep in the next minute or so, he isn't sure when. He just knows that this feels like home, and he'd been the biggest fool in the history for trying to leave it as if he actually could. He has to get you those flowers just as soon as he can.

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine fic #tangerine fanfic #tangerine fanfiction #bullet train #bullet train fanfiction #tangerine imagine #bullet train fic #bullet train imagine #aaron taylor johnson

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sluttywonwoo · 1 year ago

Text

fuck the neighbors

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f reader

summary: curiosity killed the cat but satisfaction brought it back- at least, that's what they say.

warnings: swearing, blood, asshole!wonwoo, mingyu is canonically a whore, light blasphemy, smut (18+ ; mdni)

smut warnings: hard dom!wonwoo, allusions to voyeurism, degradation, oral (f receiving), blood play?!?!? (just a little bit!!!), wap!reader, massive cock!wonwoo, choking, protected sex

word count: 3.3k

reader notes: reader is significantly shorter than ww + described to have long-ish hair

You’ve never felt as small as you do right now. Wonwoo looms over you, smirking. He isn’t even that much taller than you, you just seem to shrink into yourself when you’re around him, which seems to be happening more and more often lately.

“Found you,” he whispers.

“I... wasn’t hiding,” you say, your voice coming out in a squeak.

“You know it isn’t nice to lie,” he chides, taking a step closer to you. You take a step backward in kind, only to be met with the cool concrete wall against your back. “It also isn’t nice to eavesdrop.”

“I didn’t- I wasn’t trying to,” you insist.

Wonwoo tsks. “I don’t believe you. What did I just say about lying?”

“Well, it isn’t nice to be super loud all the time either!” you scoff. “You have neighbors, you know.”

The overhead light flickers. You and Wonwoo both stare at it, the inconsistent hum of electricity filling the silence before the light eventually decides to stay lit. You breathe a sigh of relief. You really needed to stop overlooking sketchy apartments for the sake of the rent, especially if you were going to have to deal with people like... him.

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side. “What are you talking about?”

“What do you mean what am I talking about? Listen, I don’t care who you fuck but if you could be just a little quieter-”

Wonwoo cuts you off with a laugh. “That’s what this is about? That’s why you were snooping outside my apartment? What, were you hoping to catch a glimpse of her leaving or something?”

So you had been right... you’re not sure whether or not you’re happy about that. What you are sure of, though, is that you’re offended that you’re being accused of snooping. You open your mouth to defend yourself but stop short.

“You’re bleeding,” is what you say instead.

Wonwoo touches his lip, thumb brushing across the cut he must not have noticed until you mentioned it. He looks down at his fingers briefly then back up at you.

“Come with me.”

“Wha- huh?”

“You want to know what’s so loud, right? So come on.”

You follow him blindly back down the hall to his apartment, the one right next to yours. You’re doing everything a final girl in a horror movie shouldn’t do, but you’re dying to know what’s been keeping you up at night.

Wonwoo unlocks the door and stands aside to let you in first. With a gulp, you cross the threshold and slip off your shoes. He does the same.

The apartment is quiet, for once. It looks a lot like yours but mirrored. The kitchen is off to the right instead of the left. The half bathroom is on the wall opposite to yours, likely connected via plumbing.

The place is a lot cleaner than you expected too. It’s sparse, typical for a single guy, but still relatively well decorated.

Wonwoo heads straight to the kitchen and turns on the sink. He wets a paper towel and dabs at his bottom lip, wincing as he cleans the wound.

“Why am I here?” you ask when he doesn’t offer an explanation.

He doesn’t answer right away. Granted, the man was still bleeding but he’d dragged you here for a reason and now you were just standing in his kitchen.

Eventually, he disposes of the paper towel, washes his hands, and walks across the living room without saying a word. You know he expects you to follow him but you almost don’t want to. You do follow him, you want to leave as fast as possible, but you consider it.

He opens the door to what you know is a bedroom and points inside. You stare at him blankly.

“What am I looking at?”

“This isn’t my room,” he says.

“What?”

“It’s my roommate’s.”

“You have a roommate?”

“I do. I have a roommate. He’s the one you share a wall with. He’s the one banging a different girl every night. Your issues are with him, not me.”

Now that you were thinking about it, you have seen a slightly taller, beefier man around the building. That must be who Wonwoo’s roommate is. He definitely had the face to pull all the girls Wonwoo was referring to. Not that Wonwoo didn’t-

“So take it up with him.”

You shake your head and purse your lips. “No, that doesn’t explain everything. I’ve heard your voice too. Unless you’re the one he’s banging...” you trail off, letting the implication hang in the air.

“He’s not my type,” Wonwoo says flatly.

“Okay, then what is it?”

“C’mere,” he says, moving along the wall to what you use as a breakfast nook in your apartment.

In his, the space is empty save for a punching bag hanging from the ceiling.

“You box?”

“It’s a hobby.”

“Is that why you were bleeding?”

“Yeah, I just got back from the gym.”

“And that’s what I’ve been hearing?”

“That’s what you’ve been hearing.”

You nod but don’t say anything else, half waiting for an apology that he doesn’t offer. He just leans against the wall with his arms crossed.

“Well, do you think you could practice your hobby before midnight? Or at least try to keep it down when you do?” you huff in annoyance.

He sighs like what you’re asking is the biggest inconvenience he’s ever been posed with but concedes.

“I guess.”

“Thank you.”

“You’ll have to talk to Mingyu about his... hobby, though. Or get noise canceling headphones. That’s what I did.”

“Oh, okay.”

Silence stretches between you again, heightening the tension in the room. You don’t know what to do. Were you supposed to show yourself out now that you had your answers? Wonwoo isn’t giving you any indication that he wants you to leave but he isn't giving any indication that he wants you to stay either.

You don’t have the time or energy to deal with this. You can’t read the man’s mind. No matter how hard he stares at you from across a room. With a definitive breath, you turn on your heel to head for the door just to be stopped by Wonwoo’s voice echoing behind you.

“Are you disappointed?”

You stop but don’t turn around. “What?”

“Are you disappointed that it isn’t me you’ve been hearing?” he clarifies.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “Wh-what do you mean? Why would I be?”

You feel him approach from behind, his shadow closing in on you before he does.

“Because it isn’t my voice you’ve been touching yourself to.”

“What?!” You do turn around this time, whipping around so fast your ponytail almost whacks Wonwoo in the face.

“You don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me when I pass you in the hallway?”

You scoff, breathing a subtle sigh of relief. All he had to go off of was a look but if he had heard you through the wall, if he had that irrefutable evidence, it would definitely be over for you. “If that’s what you think lust looks like, I feel bad for all the girls you have slept with.”

“Resentment and lust have a very long history together,” he whispers.

“You think pretty highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“But I’m right, aren’t I?”

You feign ignorance. “About what?”

“About you.” He measures you up with his gaze, something triumphant flashing behind his eyes. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he presses. “Tell me you’ve never gotten off to the thought of me and I’ll drop it.”

You weigh your options. You could lie. You could save yourself the embarrassment and lie right to his face, although given your track record thus far he’d see right through it. Or, you could tell him the truth. You could admit to wishing you were the one in what you thought had been his bed all this time.

You settle on silence and let him draw his own conclusion. A smirk tugs at one side of Wonwoo’s mouth. So he did think highly of himself.

“I fucking knew it,” he murmurs.

Before you can deny it, he straightens back up and starts walking toward the back of the apartment.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he announces.

You don’t move from where you’re standing, unsure of what he wants you to do. Was he hinting at you to leave? Was it an invitation?

Wonwoo looks back over his shoulder at you. “Are you coming?”

“Hopefully,” you mutter.

“Hm?”

“Yeah, I’m coming.”

The water is already running by the time you slip into the bathroom after Wonwoo. You watch quietly as he undresses, letting the door click shut gently behind you. It occurs to you that you should be taking your clothes off too but you can’t look away.

Wonwoo’s kind enough to snap you out of it. “I didn’t ask you in here just to watch me.”

“You didn’t ask me in here at all,” you point out, “you just expected me to follow you.”

“And you did.”

Damn, he had you there.

With a noise of indignation, you pop the button on your jeans and start to wiggle out of them, unable to bring yourself to look at him again now that you’re also exposed. You can feel his eyes on you, though. It has the same effect his presence always has on you, and you attempt to cover yourself with your hands.

“Shy?” he muses. “Cute.”

“Shut up,” you sputter.

You don’t think you’ve felt this self conscious since college and then he laughs at your response which does nothing to help.

“I can’t call you cute?”

“Not if you’re patronizing me.”

“How do you want me to say it, then?” he asks, sinking down to his knees on the floor in front of you. You stare at him in disbelief. “You want me to say it like this? Want me to tell you how cute, how pretty, I think you are, from down here? How pretty I think this pussy is?” Wonwoo leans forward as he talks, further and further until his hair is tickling your tummy and his lips are moving against your skin. “Spread your legs for me, baby,” he murmurs.

You do, taking hold of the countertop so that you won’t fall as Wonwoo slots himself between your thighs. You take a deep breath to brace yourself for the feeling of his mouth but absolutely nothing could have prepared you for the way he presses a gentle kiss to your pussy before diving in. The softness of the action compared to everything that led up to this moment, compared to the way he was now drowning himself in you, is enough to make your knees threaten to give. Your grip on the counter tightens and you bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep from moaning out loud. You don’t want to give him the satisfaction, though you’re sure he already knows he’s got you right where he wants you.

Wonwoo hitches one of your knees over his shoulder so that he can get even deeper inside of you with his tongue. He drinks you in, breathes you in, douses himself in you like he’s trying to baptize himself in order to atone for his sins.

If this was his apology for all the noise, he’s forgiven ten times over.

You can feel callouses on the palms of his hands as he traces them up your legs and over your ass, pulling you even further into him. The force of his grip causes you to stumble but he catches you before you can fall and helps you to regain your balance.

“I’ve got you,” he assures you, backing you up into the sink. “Here, hop up on the counter.”

“What about the shower?” you ask, suddenly remembering that the water had been running this whole time.

“Oh shit-”

Wonwoo turns around and reaches to turn it off, drying both his hand and his face with a towel that had been hanging on the wall.

“Now, hop up on the counter.”

“Are you sure?” you ask, glancing at all of the skin and hair care products scattered across it.

Wonwoo pushes them out of the way then nods.

“I’m sure. Mingyu won’t care, trust me. He’d be a hypocrite to.”

You sigh but hoist yourself onto the counter anyway, too horny to worry about it any longer. Wonwoo steps in between your legs and lets you wrap them around his waist. He leans down, you think he’s going to kiss you, but he goes for your neck and kisses you there instead.

“Why are you pouting?” he asks, voice muffled and vibrating against your throat.

“Want you to fuck me,” you lie.

It’s not a complete lie, you do want him to fuck you, but it certainly isn’t the full truth either. You’re afraid that if you’re honest with Wonwoo about wanting him to kiss you it’ll turn him off. He’s not about to make love to you, that much is clear, so was kissing off the table? Was that too intimate for a hookup like this? Would he think you wanted something more if you asked?

“I was getting to that,” he insists lowly. “So impatient.”

“You’re the one who ate me out as soon as you got me alone. You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

There. Maybe if you challenged him he’d give you what you wanted.

“Oh, you want me to kiss you, huh?”

He wraps a hand around your neck and pulls you in, finally pressing his lips to yours. Men were so easy.

He tastes like you imbued with unfamiliarity. Blood, you realize when you pull back and see the cut on his lip had reopened. It isn’t much, just enough to make him look vaguely vampiric. You swipe your thumb across his bottom lip and push it into his mouth for him to suck on.

He does, but he has the audacity to pretend not to like it.

“You’re sick,” Wonwoo scoffs.

“And you’re still hard.”

“Two things can be true at the same time.”

He kisses you again before you can get another word in, dropping his free hand between your legs to ensure you're truly unable to talk back.

He uses his fingers to tease you for a moment or two and then he teases you with the head of his cock, pressing it right up against you and making you whimper into his mouth.

“Tell me, what have you been thinking about all these months,” he murmurs, “when you’re in your bed all alone listening through the wall?”

“I- it’s embarrassing...” you protest.

Wonwoo draws back, tonguing his cheek as he gazes down at you. “Tell me or we’re done here.”

You’re not sure whether or not he’ll make good on his threat but you don’t want to call his bluff and risk blowing your chance to actually live out the fantasies you were too embarrassed to share.

“I thought about... this,” you say hesitantly.

“This? You thought about me fucking you here?”

“No...”

“You’re going to have to be more specific then, angel.”

“It was, um, in your bed.”

“You mean Mingyu’s bed.”

“I didn’t know that at the time,” you whine.

He smiles. “I know. You know, if you had just paid a little closer attention you would have realized he sounds nothing like me.”

“I was a little distracted at the time,” you whisper.

“Yeah? Distracted pretending it was you in those girls’ positions?”

You nod reluctantly.

“Poor baby,” he pouts, “must’ve been so jealous but so wet you just had to touch yourself, huh?”

You hate that he’s right. You hate that the condescension turns you on even more.

While he’s talking, Wonwoo snakes an arm behind you and grabs a condom from a jar on the counter. Did he and Mingyu just keep them out for guests like they were cotton swabs or something? Did they get laid that often?

He tears the foil packet open with his teeth and rolls the condom on as you watch and unconsciously spread your legs even wider for him.

“Ready?” he asks, holding your face with both hands.

It’s probably the first earnest interaction you’ve had with him. His eyes search yours for any sign of hesitation and even when he finds none, he waits for you to answer.

“Go ahead.”

You keep your eyes trained on his face as he guides himself inside of you, watching the way his eyelashes flutter and his breath hitches when he feels the heat of you around him. He pushes himself in slowly but the stretch still knocks the wind out of you, leaving you gasping for air.

“Breathe, baby, breathe. You’re okay.”

You can hardly hear him over the roaring in your ears but you do your best to listen, chest heaving as you desperately try to anchor yourself to him.

Wonwoo doesn’t move until you urge him to by wrapping your legs around his waist and squeezing his hips with your thighs. It isn’t easy at first, despite how wet you are for him. He’s that huge.

You almost wish he wasn’t just because you don’t think it’s fair for any man’s ego to be warranted, especially one as big as his. Though you suppose it’s fitting.

After a few rough strokes, he starts to play with your clit again to get you to relax a little. It works, your eyes roll and your head falls back against the mirror as the tension eases from your muscles.

“Does it feel as good as you thought it would?” he presses.

“B-better,” you admit.

“That’s because it wasn’t me you were hearing.”

You groan, annoyed that he still hasn’t let it go. You doubt he ever will.

“It’s okay. I’ve thought about this too,” he confesses.

“You have?”

“Have you seen yourself?” he scoffs, “Don’t sound so surprised. I’d s-see you in the hallways, see the way you’d glare at me- fuck... who knew all this time you were right next door fantasizing about me while I fantasized about you. We could’ve been doing this so much sooner.”

You want to tell him that you have all the time in the world to make up for it now but you can’t find the words. They’ve dissolved on your tongue and left you with only his name to repeat over and over like you’re in a trance.

“Louder,” he pleads as fucks you even faster.

“But our neighbors-”

“Fuck them,” he spits. “They already hate us because of Mingyu, let them know my name too.”

Apparently you aren’t the only jealous one between the two of you. You want to laugh but you physically can’t, too caught up in the incandescent feeling in your stomach that threatens to engulf you entirely.

“Fuck, are you about to cum?” Wonwoo gasps, lips parting in concentration.

You nod. “Just a little more,” you beg, “yeah, exactly like that... oh fuck-”

“I’ve got you,” he assures you. “Let go, I’m right there with you.”

It’s surprisingly sweet of him and you think he might realize it too because he grabs your jaw and pulls you in to kiss you as you fall apart together so that he can’t say anything else.

Once you come down, he’s the first to start putting you both back together.

“Wanna actually take a shower now?” he asks, holding out a hand to help you down from the counter.

Your knees wobble on your landing but Wonwoo’s quick to wrap an arm around your shoulders wounded-soldier style and sit you on the closed lid of the toilet.

“Take your time,” he tells you, kneeling on the tile in front of you.

“Thank you.”

“Do you want to stay the night? I mean you can hardly walk. There’s no way you’ll make it all the way home.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “All the way next door?”

“Exactly! It’s better not to risk it, right?”

You chuckle. “I guess.”

Wonwoo grins. “Don’t worry, I’ll take you home myself in the morning. I’m a gentleman, after all. And then we can piss off your neighbors.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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