#i wonder if his sunglasses are prescription

[spicy-moth]

this was funnier in my head

[russellsppttemplates]

It is what it is (Lando Norris)

It takes Lando a while to notice how you always assume he has something else to do whenever you need his help

Note: english is not my first language. It's slightly angsty but has a good ending! ✨️ is this good, is this bad? I'm not too sure

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: alludes to the lack of quality time between a couple

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog @hiireadstuff @c-losur3

"Look at you, beautiful girl", Lando twirled you as he stepped inside your bedroom, noticing you were getting ready, "are you going somewhere?".

"Yes, I have an appointment at my optometrist", you smiled, "Anna should be here soon to take me".

"Is it a joint appointment?", Lando squinted.

"No, you muppet", you giggled, "my optometrist needs some exams on my eyes, so I have to today because that's when the ophthalmologist is there and they recommended that I had someone take me there because they want to dilate my pupils and, depending on how it goes, my sight might be a little affected for a couple of hours", you offered, making sure you had everything you needed to take.

"You could've told me and I would've taken you", Lando added, accepting the kiss you placed on his lips.

"I thought you had a meeting this afternoon", you reasoned.

"I do, but I could have moved that around a little and fit everything into the schedule", he reasoned back.

"It's okay, don't worry about that", you mused, "That's Anna - bye, handsome!", you kissed his lips one last time before making your way out and downstairs to meet your friend.

The ride to the office wasn't long, you and Anna taking the time to catch up and learn about the new gossips she had to update on you.

"And how's Lando? I haven't seen him in a while", Anna stated after you sat in the empty waiting room waiting to be called.

"He's been busy lately - he has a meeting today with the team, they're also launching a new collection for Quadrant and they're investing a lot in the social media content, so he's been busy recording a lot of videos and stuff", you offered, never shy whenever it came to talk proudly about your boyfriend's achievements, "and we're also on the countdown for the season to begin, so there's training and meetings and all that".

"Sounds like a busy schedule, no wonder why I haven't seen him - I'm surprised you even see him at all", she joked, grabbing her phone once she remembered she had something to show you.

You were surprised yourself at every bit of time you were able to spend with Lando, as lately it had become near impossible to do so apart from sleeping in the same bed, and even that was rare as he was often travelling between Monaco and England on a weekly basis.

"Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?", the doctor called you before you stepped inside the exam room, starting with the procedures.

The check up itself didn't take long despite the twenty five minute wait for the drops to dilate your pupils, "Don't forget your sunglasses, Y/N!", the secretary reminded you before you stepped outside.

"Thank you, have a good afternoon", you smiled before tapping Anna's shoulder, "Give me your arm so I won't trip", you mumbled.

"Is your sight that bad? The doctor said it should be good enough", Anna worried as she was about to open the door.

"No, it's fine, but if I'm clumsy on any good day, imagine how probable it is for me to fall on some stupid step or raised cobblestone", you argued as you both chuckled, making your way to her car.

Before you went home, your friend stopped by the pharmacy to get you the relief eye drops you'd have to follow the medication regimen with for the next few days, stopping by your favourite bakery so you could enjoy some sweet pastries.

"Can you even read these prescriptions?", Anna asked as she read the regimen you had to comply with.

"Stop making fun of me, you say that as if I'm almost blind", you swatted her arm before reading - trying to - the words, "fucking hell, am I?".

"I can barely read them myself, Y/N! They're so tiny I don't know how they give these to eye patients! Is Lando going to be home soon? That way he can help you with this", she suggested.

"Can I even see the time? At least that", you mumbled as you looked at the large numbers on your phone, "he'll probably take a while still - I can set the alarms on my phone and I'll memorise the different drops", you tapped your head.

Once it was all settled and you assured Anna she was fine to go home and you'd be perfectly well on your own, you walked her to the door before going back to the living room as the sun was no longer shinning outside and you could lay down on the sofa.

The nap you were taking was cut short by the door being shut, making you rub your forehead before an alarm rang. Getting up to head to the bathroom where you kept the supplies, you found Lando taking his trainers off.

"Hi baby, how was your appointment?", he asked as he put the footwear away.

"It was good, need to go and apply my drops", you smiled, turning the light on and grabbing the right box of medication.

"Is that what the alarm was for? I thought we had gotten a new security system I was not aware of", Lando joked as he watched you wash your hands.

"Yes, these instructions are so small to read that Anna thought it would be best to have alarms so I wouldn't mess it up since it's still a little bit blurry", you mused.

"Do you want me to do it?", Lando offered.

"No, it's fine - I'll have to do this for the next 48 hours anyway, so I might as well get used to it", you stopped talking so you could apply them, almost holding your breath until the drops fell.

"My lovie", Lando whispered on your ear once he felt it was okay to approach you, hugging your mid section from behind and kissing your neck as you put your hands on top of his.

.

You were adding the finishing touches on the present wrapping, the shiny gold string fiddling between your fingers as you tried to tie a bow with it around the paper bag handle, when Lando stepped inside your home office.

"That's looking pretty", he mused as he handed you the tape you were looking for on your desk.

"Thank you", you offered before placing the sticky piece down, "the bag is quite plain and even though the present inside is what will get her attention, it should come in nice wrapping".

"Who is this for?", Lando asked.

"It's for Maya's birthday tonight", you smiled, admiring your work.

"Is that tonight? Fuck, this week has flown by", Lando cursed, "I can't make it - will you let her know, please? I'm sorry I can't go", Lando pouted, "if she has to pay for having made the reservation with me in it, let me know and I'll pay my part!".

"I had already told her I'd be going alone, so she made my reservation without a plus one", you mused, remembering the conversation that came around the time of booking the venue.

Lando was leaving late in the afternoon for a trip with Max, Ria and some of the Quadrant athletes, so like you predicted, he couldn't attend the dinner with you.

"Oh", Lando offered.

"Max told me about your plans and when Maya told me the date, I assumed you wouldn't be able to go", you explained with a tinge of sadness and conformity in your voice.

"Well, it seems you guessed right", Lando chuckled despite the uneasy feeling on his chest.

You seemed sad that he wouldn't be able to join you, but at the same time you didn't? Lando put the topic at the back of his mind for now, heading to the bedroom so he could pack the last minute things.

"I was thinking of wearing this dress", you said once you joined him inside a while later, taking the steamer out of your drawer and setting it up to get out any kinks and wrinkles.

"That one is one of my favourites on you, but then again, they all are, I think", Lando mused, kissing your cheek as you waited for the steamer to be up for use.

"Figured it would be a little cold out tonight, so I chose this one, and that coat over there", you pointed.

"You'll be the most beautiful in that room", your boyfriend complimented, pecking your lips before he let you continue your task.

A couple hours later, Lando found himself restless as he scrolled through the posts and stories of Maya's birthday dinner, "Ria", he called, "what would you think if your partner made plans without you because they figured you wouldn't be able to go anyway?".

Ria exchanged a look with Max and Tara before she spoke, "did they ask me if I could go?", she offered.

"They didn't, but truth be told it's not like you have given them much to believe that you could join them", Lando mumbled the last part.

"I think I'd be a more 'it is what it is' at the start if I saw that it was something out of their reach, but I'm not sure I'd put up with it if it was genuine disinterest from them", Ria explained.

"It's not disinterest! They're just busy and shit at organising their schedules", Lando groaned defensively.

"Okay, okay", Ria calmed the room down once Max squinted his eyes at his bestfriend, "then I guess they would have to make sure they do better", she shrugged, "is everything alright?".

"Yes, yes, sorry for snapping just then", Lando offered her a tight lipped smile.

Everyone carried on with what they were doing before the existencial question, Max seemingly as stuck on it as Lando, "is this an hypothetical thing or are we calling people by their names and working this out?", he whispered to Lando.

"It's fine, just a loose thought I had there", Lando grumbled.

.

Lina 🤎

Hi, Y/N!

You won't bother, don't worry - I think I miss having someone other than my boyfriend to talk to 😅

Would it be okay if you visited in the afternoon? Our morning routine is still a shitshow (literally and figuratively), so we would appreciate it if you came after her first nap, around two pm?

One of Lando's older couple friends had a baby a couple of weeks ago, and while you were dying to meet their baby boy as soon as he came earthside, you were respectful of their adjustment period so you waited for them to be up for visitors and were ready to comply with whatever schedule they offered.

"It smells nice in here", Lando commented as he stepped inside the kitchen, "what delicious food are you making and can I please have a bite?".

"I made a little tray for us, but the big one is to take for Lina and Theo - I can imagine they don't have much time for cooking, so food is welcomed by them", you smiled, setting the cheese grater down once the measurements were like the recipe stated.

"Are you going to visit today? I have some streaming with Max scheduled for this afternoon", Lando added.

"Lina told me that this afternoon was the only time they could handle some visits - you know how it is with new parents and newborns and all of that -, I didn't want to change their schedule when I have some flexibility with my schedule", you explained, "I'll give the little one a big kiss from you, then?".

"Well, in that case, I should give you two big kisses then - one for you", he kissed your lips once, "and then this one for the little one", he smiled before kissing you again.

You shared lunch in a semi comfortable silence, Lando telling you a bit about the stream they would be doing and you sharing some work updates from your end.

When Lando gets a text in the middle of watching Max send his virtual car to the curb, "who might that be that's brought such a big smile to your face?".

Lando checked the photo to make sure the baby's face was covered despite his friends having already posted him, tuning the phone to show the camera, "Y/N met our friends' baby boy for the first time", Lando gushed.

"That's the little nugget", Max cooed, "she looks very happy with a baby on her arms", he wiggled his eyebrows, "have you met him already?".

"No, I haven't yet! She could only go this afternoon and we had this so...", Lando tsked, admiring the picture one last time before setting the phone back down. The baby was perfectly nestled on your arms, hiding his face on your chest as you looked down at him with a big smile on your face.

Now that he thought about he, he hadn't seen such a big smile in quite some time, and he was really starting to believe he was the reason behind it. He was absent, more than usual and more than the standards of your relationship considering his job.

The air had shifted around you once you came back from meeting Lina's little boy and Lando could only pinpoint it to the subject he thought about earlier.

"Lan, did you hear what I said?", you asked as you showed him another picture of you touching your noise in the little boy's.

"It's just... are we okay, baby?", Lando questioned. Even though it seemed like he was the only one that felt there was something wrong - different at least -, surely you had noticed it too.

"What makes you say that?", you asked.

From the serious tone, your boyfriend mentally slapped himself. Whatever it was, he was on the wrong and you had indeed noticed it too.

"I've noticed you don't ask me for help with stuff like driving you somewhere or accompanying you to places, which is fine if you want to do things on your own, I'm not saying you can't have your own independence, you know I'm not controlling you in that way - obviously! Fuck, I'm rambling! What I mean is, I have been taking notice that you just assume that I'm not available, and your assumptions are not unfounded, and it makes you sad, and I myself am upset that it has reached this point", Lando stated.

"It's not great, I can tell you that, but we knew it would be like this, your schedule is not the regular nine to five - it is what it is, Lan", you argued.

"But it's not, not all the time anyway! I want you to know you can always count on me!", Lando stated, "Y/N, you are one of my priorities and I never want to let you down - I'm going to make sure that from now on I spend more time with you and that I'm by your side a lot more", he rubbed your palm, "damn, I was so stupid, I'm sorry, lovie".

"Lando, these things happen", you attempted, "now we can work on it".

"You can count on me for little and big things in life - you need to go to the post office? I'm there helping you put the letter in the box. Dinner with your friends? I'll find it in the schedule to go and I don't care who I have to tell no to!", he pointed his finger, "I never ever want you to feel like you don't belong in my life or like I don't want to be involved in yours, Y/N - I'm so so so sorry that it took me so long to notice it".

"It's in the past", you smiled, pecking his lips softly, "now, look at this cute little nugget, he's so cute, we have to go there another day so you can meet him, and I think Theo won't mind another traybake".

[ravensmadreads]

Little Monsters

rating: 18+ Explicit

pairing: dieter x f!reader

word count: 5K

summary: A phone call home to your family has you missing them desperately . . . especially your husband, who always knows exactly what you need.

warnings/tags: pregnancy, Dieter has children and is actually a really good dad, director!reader, 1st half is mind numbing tooth rotting FLUFF, 2nd half is straight filth and dieter has a nasty nasty mouth, masturbation, camera/phone sex, slight breeding kink, one single use of ‘Daddy’, if I had an ounce of shame left in me I would not have posted this

a/n: special shout outs go to @spookyxsam for showing me about how babies work and to @lunapascal and @mysterious-moonstruck-musings for talking me off the daddy dieter ledge. this is my first pregnancy fic and i do not know what came over me (she lied, knowing damn good and well what happened to her brain chemistry)

from @yoursoulsunbreakable 's request: Hello sweetie, congratulations on your milestone <3 Here's my request for the little drabble: 5. “Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.” With our precious Dieter and smutty? Hope it'll inspire you 😘

🤍Masterlist

“Tell me what you would want to do, if you were here right now.”

“Oh, Dieter, I’d – I’d –,”

“Yeah?”

You let out a burst of air from your lips, flopping back against the pillows. “I’d ask you for a foot rub,” you whine into the camera. 

He chuckles, the sound a bit garbled through the speakers. He leans forward into the camera, as if trying to see down your body, the angle of the phone against the hotel’s lamp not quite right. 

“Is Bravo Baby number three giving you trouble?” 

You eye your swelling feet over the steadily swelling bump. Well into your second trimester and the list of shoes in your closet you could still wear is shrinking rapidly. This also happened with your second child and when Dieter made one joke about keeping you barefoot in the kitchen, you nearly threw a butcher’s knife at his head. You stroke the left side of your stomach to preemptively soothe the little brat before they start wailing on that spot all night, sighing into your husband’s sympathetic, pixelated face. 

“They’ve been grouchy all day. Tom had to leave me in the car for a bit after we scouted a potential place for the exterior shots to finish taking pictures because somebody was having a grand old time wearing me out.” You narrow your eyes at him through the camera. “As if there was any doubt this was your child.” 

This is a constant inside joke between you. Your first kid, a girl, was a beautiful blend of both you and Dieter. His eyes, but your hair, your cheeks, and his nose. He also got to name her – said it came to him after he bought some chocolate and water at the hospital lounge –

“Zelle, Dieter, ‘Zelle’?? Like the money transaction service?” 

But you had been too zonked out on painkillers and endorphins to object (you thought it was beautiful at the time), and he signed the papers anyway. Neither of you had come up with a fitting name before then and he swears the instant he held his baby girl in his hands for the first time, it came to him, as if the stars rearranged themselves in the sky with that name. Incurably a romantic at heart – your husband – you found it sweet and also idiotic, but it was too late now. 

Your second one, Orion, had his name written down on a post-it note you carried in your purse for months and you made sure to show the nurse when you were admitted. Not that Dieter would intentionally go against the name you had agreed on if the baby was a boy, but there was a slim chance he’d get so caught up in the moment and, with watery eyes, tell the nurse to write something like Mars Bar on the birth certificate. 

And, for all that, Orion could have been a carbon copy of you.

The joke started when Dieter picked him up from his crib one night and brought that gurgling little mouth right up to his nose. “Are you sure you didn’t just spontaneously create this one? I don’t see a single hint of me in this little guy.” To which Orion giggled around a drool-damp fist and promptly bopped his father on the nose with it. 

“Are you saying you don’t remember what happened the night he was conceived?” You asked with a smirk over your shoulder as you returned some baby bibs to the drawer. 

Dieter snorted and slid Orion into the crook of his arm, those onesie-white feet seen kicking over his forearm. “Now Mommy is just being plain silly.”

That was five years ago and you couldn’t exactly deny you were excited for the smell of newborn to be all over your husband again. 

“I’ll be glad when we hit the last trimester,” he says, chin propped up on his wrist to stare down at you in his other palm, “so I can wave that doctor’s note in your face when you try to work too hard . . . like you are now.” 

You shift onto your side to face him, rolling your eyes. “You only like the third trimester for the sex hormones.” 

After spending most of your first pregnancy, and at least half of your second, trying to claw Dieter’s eyes out if he so much as breathed in your direction, he was delighted to find that by month seven, the hellcat who had taken over his wife’s body turned into a needy, whiny little kitten. 

Some of the best orgasms of his life come from those months, he swears up and down. 

“I’m not going to complain,” he grins, peering down at you from those prescription sunglasses. The Dieter you used to know wore them because he was constantly hungover; your husband wears them because he keeps accidentally misplacing his actual prescription glasses. “All I’m saying is you better be back in time so Daddy can play house with Mommy.” 

The shrill cry is heard through the phone, the closed bedroom door, and at least one hallway:

“Is Mommy on the phone?” 

Barely a second later, you watch over his shoulder as the door flings open and a wild blur of arms and legs dogpiles Dieter onto the bed. You hear him grunt, the camera flips up to the ceiling, as Zelle and Orion clamor for the phone. Chuckling to yourself, you take up the phone from the bedside table and hold it in your palm as you lean back against the pillows and your children’s faces flash over the small screen. 

“Mommy, I made a bug out of noodles and string today.”

“Mommy, I saw a cat that looked like a cow today.”

“Mommy, Daddy’s broccoli tasted funny - you cook it better!”

“Hey!” He lunges for Zelle’s little ankle and pulls her up around her waist as she giggles helplessly. 

You can barely see them, Orion’s pudgy little finger over most of the camera, Dieter’s hair and Zelle’s kicking feet visible only in flashes. 

“You better go help your sister, Orion!” 

Needing no other prompting, he drops the phone against the pillows and leaps onto his father, squealing at the noise Dieter makes. Where Orion got your looks, he had all of his father’s mannerism. You blinked twice when as a toddler Orion’s purposeful pout had looked so similar to his father’s, you wondered if they had practiced it together. Orion is ruthless when it comes to the tickle wars and immediately goes for Dieter’s neck. 

“Help!” he chokes, “I’m being overrun by tiny monsters!”

Zelle roars at his hip and Orion howls – he’d be a werewolf for Halloween a third year in a row if the tradition continued. Despite more frequent and loud protests about his poor back, Dieter lunges forward and yanks Zelle under his arm like she’s a football. He does the same to Orion and faceplants with both of them successfully pinned. It’s the oldest trick in the book and you muse what he’s going to do when they are too big to do that to anymore. But, as Dieter likes to say, one colossal nightmare at a time. 

“Peace treaty?” His voice is muffled by the blanket. 

“Stand and deliver,” they repeat, breathlessly and red faced. He lets them go and the two bodies barely move, grins still plastered to their faces. Cheeks pink, Dieter crawls over and snags the phone.

“See, darling?” he says between heavy breaths, “this parenting stuff is easy.” 

“Mommy, when are you coming home?” Zelle pops her head between Dieter and the phone, her cheek pink and her little hands pushing her hair off her face. 

“Yeah!” Orion pipes up, crawling over Dieter’s back, hooking his tiny hands over his father’s throat. Dieter’s eyes bug out for a moment before adjusting the five year old’s grip. “Are you done chasing the dragon?”

At that, Dieter snickers and you can’t glare with fire in your eyes like you’d like to so you plaster on an overly sweet smile on your face. 

“Rori, we asked you not to say that. It’s a stork, remember?” 

Orion frowns into Dieter’s curls. “But I want a baby brother or sister that comes from a dragon’s egg.” 

“Yeah, Mom, a dragon baby is way cooler than a stork baby.” 

Oh, you are going to kill him. 

This was another ongoing joke . . . for Dieter. Orion’s teacher called home one night after Orion proudly announced that his mommy was off chasing the dragon. Understandably concerned about the phrase, she called to make sure everything was alright, only to find out what he meant was that his mother was expecting a new baby and instead of a stork, his father told him that Mommy was going to find a dragon to put a new egg inside her tummy, and then the new baby would eventually pop out from the egg. 

This was something you had to relay through the phone to the teacher . . . because Dieter was curled up on the floor, laughing so hard he went mute, tears rolling down red cheeks. This had been his ‘stork’ story for Orion, and apparently unaware of just how impressionable a five-year-old is, told him that Mommy was chasing the dragon for a new egg. Dieter says his greatest regret in his life is that he wasn’t there to see the look on Orion’s teacher’s face. 

After that, you (and Dieter once he recovered) tried to alter the story enough so that he wouldn’t accidentally imply his mother was off on a drug binge, but evidently too much stuck. 

“I’m meeting with the dragon tomorrow, okay? I’m not chasing after anything. We’re having lunch. Right, Dad?”

“Absolutely.” He nods seriously at Orion and kisses that fat little cheek. 

“When is the dragon gonna give you the egg with my baby sister in it?” Zelle asks, matching Dieter on her stomach. Dieter’s confidence manifested perfectly in his daughter; you and him had told her many times that the baby might be a little brother, but she just stuck her nose in the air. “I know it’s a sister,” she said, with a characteristic roll of her eyes. 

“A couple more months, baby,” you smile, unconsciously rubbing at your stomach again. Baby Bravo is suspiciously quiet. Not soon enough. “But I’ll be home tomorrow, but you two have to be good for Dad until then, okay?” 

Orion nods from Dieter’s shoulder, but Zelle smirks up at her father in a way that is well beyond her six years.

“I promise to eat all of Daddy’s nasty broccoli!”

Dieter’s own impish nature, thrown right back at him. The one solace you found is that your husband might have finally met his match. 

He grabs her, flips her on her back, and blows a strawberry on her tummy as she shrieks with glee. 

“Alright – that’s it – it’s bath time for all naughty monsters!” He hikes Orion over his shoulder and picks up Zelle by her waist. He glances back over at you, his eyes bright and a giant smile on his face. 

You swear every time you see Orion, there’s less and less baby in his pudgy face, his little hands. Zelle is constantly saying and doing things that surprises you with the depth of their awareness and you know it doesn’t all come from you or Dieter. 

Your heart actually aches from missing them so much. 

“Monsters, say goodnight to Queen Monster–,” more yelling, roaring, “I’ll call you later tonight, okay, baby?” 

You nod, your eyes suddenly hot and tight. “O-okay – love you all.”

“LOVE YOU!” The three-headed monster yells in unison as it lumbers out of the bedroom.

You end the call, just before the tears spill. Again on your back, you stare at the ceiling feeling incredibly sorry for yourself when the baby rolls over and kicks you in the ribs. 

Hey, I’m here too!

You laugh, a little watery, and you wipe your eyes with your palms. Just get through tonight and you’re home. 

“Okay, okay, I’m up. Let’s get ready for bed, would you like that?”

It’s late. You know you should be asleep already, but the shower had taken longer than expected. The phone call with your husband and children lingered in your mind when you turned on the water and stripped down. Your heart was so full to see Orion’s pout and Zelle’s mischievous grin, especially after such a long day on your feet and for all his teasing, Dieter’s own ease and confidence as a father, as well as a husband, left you feeling . . . warm. In fact, your mind’s eye lingers on him in the memory of the call: his beautiful, rich curls – those square black glasses that made him look annoyingly mysterious and so goddamn hot – his biceps flexing as he throws around his children with ease, his shoulders broad and straining against his shirt — his bulging forearm making his triangle tattoo pop – his wedding ring that replaced all the other rings –

The good news is the baby was almost here. The bad news is that you’re suddenly irrationally horny and your all-too-eager husband was a plane ride away. 

Entirely naked besides the white hotel robe around your shoulders, you sternly ignore the plush tingling between your legs and try to focus on rubbing in lotion into your legs, your hips, over the old and new stretch marks over your stomach. Your fingers rub underneath the curve of your stomach and accidentally brush the damp curls, sending tiny shock waves up your pelvis. You gasp lowly, freezing, eyes tightly shut, fighting back that wave of arousal. 

Goddamn it. 

At first you think the ringing is between your ears, your blood rushing hard and fast, and then you realize it’s actually your phone going off.

Daddy Dieter, the screen reads.

You frown at the clock – if it’s late for you, then it’s very late for him. When he said he’d call you later, you didn’t think he meant literally later tonight. Still frowning, you put down the bottle of lotion and answer the phone.

“Dieter?” 

“Hey, baby. How’s your night?” 

He pulls back the phone and your mouth flushes with spit. He’s shirtless, sunglasses replaced with his actual glasses, that silver earring glinting in the low light. In the center of your bed, he’s propped up on several pillows with his arm tucked behind his head. He has thickened over the years, his chest and shoulders taking on a new weight as if he physically grew into fatherhood — and God, if his bicep was bulging before –

“Dieter –,” your voice is hoarse at first and you have to clear your throat to get anything out of your mouth that isn’t a whine. “Dieter, what are you doing up?”

He shrugs like he’s just been bored at home. “Bath time was easy. Orion wanted just one story and Zelle didn’t put up a fight when I told her it was bedtime and she had to put away the crayons.” 

You narrow your eyes. “Did you slip them Benadryl?” 

“Wow! No! Did you ever think that maybe I’m just that good of a dad?” He scoffs, mildly offended. And then he smirks. “I told them you’d come home sooner if they were good.”

“Ah, the old Santa Claus trick.” You nod sagely and sit down on the edge of the bed, the movement tugging the robe slightly. “Always a classic.”

“Yeah, I –,” Dieter’s eyes widen, edges going dark. “Are you naked?” 

You swallow, his sudden shift in tone causing your thighs to clench. You cross your legs as tightly as your belly will allow, your chin held high.

“I’m in a robe, Dieter. Took a long shower.”

His eyes glitter with interest, the tip of his tongue running on the edge of his bottom lip. “How long?”  

Feeling hot and swollen for months now, you flush pink, an overripe peach beneath the slightest pressure of his thumb. 

“Dieter–,” it’s a whine but you shake your head. “Please don’t tease. I’m so . . . sensitive right now, and I won’t be home until tomorrow and–,”

“Baby, baby, breathe. I know it hurts.” He sits up, his eyes big and dark. “I remember how wet you get around now.”

Your cunt drools onto the robe below you, thighs sticky, his words ringing in your ears. 

“Dieter, don’t –,”

“I know I can’t help you but what if I showed you how to help yourself?” 

You whimper, arousal now hot and warm in the pit of your stomach. The strength of it makes your pelvis ache. You know it won’t be the same as him, but his voice, it might be enough. You nod, your heart pounding, hand holding the phone shaking. 

“Then lie back, baby.” Dieter purrs and it’s almost like he’s pushing you back with his hands. You shift up the bed, careful to not step on your robe with your heels as you center yourself in the covers. But Dieter’s moving, off the bed, and he’s adjusting something behind his phone.

The baby inside you can feel your heartbeat racing and they turn, uneasy. You soothe them with small circles just above your hips, your lips between your teeth. But that touch on your skin, the look in Dieter’s eyes, you brush lower on your skin and immediately you shudder. 

“Baby, please, hurry, whatever you’re doing, hurry –,” 

You drop your fingers over your thighs, curling and uncurling, drawing imaginary lines like he does in the mornings against your shoulders and back. 

“Just a second, sorry, almost got it.”

Then he steps back, the phone hovering in the air. Dieter sits on the bed and the camera holds the entire bed in view. Dieter is nothing if not a performer, bringing a tripod into the bedroom when he knows you need him the most. He’s so fucking hot.

“Can you see me, baby?” 

You nod stiffly. “How do you want me?” 

“Whatever way is comfortable,” he smiles and it’s almost as hot as his smirk. Fuck, he loves you so much. You slide the robe off your shoulders, exposing the tops of your breasts as best you can and still keeping your phone up. “Perfect, baby, that’s perfect.” 

Your hand drops to your thigh again, dragging your nails up under the swell of your belly and you twitch. 

“T-tell me what you would want to do,” you begin, your voice shaking, arousal smooth as it licks up your spine, “if you were here right now.” You feel warm all over, the sheets cool against your calves. 

This far away, you can’t see his eyes clear enough to watch them darken entirely, but his low grunt is enough. It’s time for him to perform for his pregnant and insatiable wife. 

He slips his glasses off and tosses them onto the bedside table, where they land with a clatter. You can’t even think of scolding him when he lifts his hips and yanks his gray sweatpants down his knees, then to the floor. He’s half-hard as he shuffles back to the pillows, nearly in the same position you are. You shift to match him entirely, needing the immersion to be total and complete. You’d cry if he could actually touch you.

“Are you comfortable?”

You nod again. But Dieter shakes his head, his fingers digging into his thighs. “I can’t see you this far away, baby. I need you to say it. Talk to me.”

He was usually the one vocal enough for both of you, any coherent language impossible with the mess he makes out of you. You can’t imagine what you’re going to sound like, not when you’re this needy and desperate already.

“O-okay, Dieter, I’ll try.” 

“Good girl.” You whimper again, trying to restrain from touching yourself before he tells you to. But you’re throbbing, the heat blooming from your cunt rushing to the rest of your body, the baby in you restless. As if mother and child can only be soothed by their father. “Now, breathe, darling, you’re flushed.” 

You inhale, the air notching on every bone in your spine, and exhale, your lungs shuddering, eyes shut. “Dieter, please, tell me what you’d –,” 

“I’d touch your thighs,” he says with such immediacy, your eyes spring open. He’s got the knee farthest from you bent up, as if putting himself on display, turning his hips towards the camera slightly. His other leg is stretched out long beside him and his left hand strokes his cock. Hair and shoulders backlit from the far lamp, the image of him like this alone — just for you — has your cunt clenching, a moan spilling from your lips. “Touch your thighs, baby.”

You can’t grab as much skin as he does, but you try. You lift your knees, and massage the backs of your thighs, then up to your knees, and back down. You can almost feel his breath on your calves and you shudder. “What else? W-where else?” 

“I’ve been thinking about your tits for days,” he groans, the sound strangled, his cock now fully-hard and red. He cups himself, twisting as slow as he can take it. “Tell me what your tits feel like.” 

“Sensitive,” you gasp as you draw two fingers across your nipple and squeeze gently. Dieter only uses his mouth now on them, so you wet them with yours and return them to your swollen bud, slowly twisting and pulling. 

He’s watching you through the camera, eyes wide, breath sharp when you suck your fingers into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah, that’s right. Get them wet. What are you thinking about?”

“You. Your lips around my nipple, under my breast. Your teeth. They’re so heavy, Dieter.” 

His hips jerk under his hand, his fingers moving faster now. You can’t quite hear what he’s muttering, but you catch weak mumblings, “gonna feed our baby”, “yeah, your tits”, the baby” —

“Dieter, please–,” 

“Touch yourself with your fingers wet from your mouth. T-t-tell me what it feels like.”

With a relieved cry, you slide your hand down from your tits, over the swell of your belly, and in between your thighs. Wetness clings to the curls, to the curve of your ass, your body so ready to take him, and it locks up when you slip a finger inside.

“So wet. Warm. How many fingers can I put in?”

“One, but – can you already do two?”

You nod, the huff arching into a whine. “Yeah, baby. You have no idea how wet I am. I can slip in two with no resistance.”

“Jesus,” he pants and slows down, his hips rocking of their own accord. “You’ve got me so hard.” 

You curl your fingers inside of you, searching for that spot made and found and praised by him. Your folds plump and achy, you twist your wrist, scissor your fingers, but it’s not the same. It’s not the same as his three fingers plugging you up, readying you to take so much of him, it’s enough to ease the sharp ache for a bit. You moan, fucking yourself more. He hears it, sees it, and grunts. 

“You can come wherever you want, baby,” he murmurs, his own hand hesitant to match your speed. He tugs on his balls and his toes curl, his neck long and tense. “Fuck, I need your hands.”

“Me too,” you sob, real tears pricking the corners of your eyes. It feels good but it’s not the relief you need. It’s pathetic but you don’t want to stop. You can’t get in deep enough, even if you could get around your big belly. “Dieter, I can’t reach. It’s – I’m –,”

“Breathe, love, it’s okay.” His voice is soothing, calming. The same one he uses when you’re in labor and the sweet honey warmth of it sinks into your bones, easing the panic. You slow, gasping, tears pooling down your temple. Your orgasm is harsh, sunken in the dark, waiting for you to draw it out.

“What can you reach?”

“My clit.” 

“Then touch that. Can I see?”

You nod, angle the phone down as you rub that electric nub. 

“Oh, fuck, baby. I know it’s frustrating and I know it hurts, but you look so fucking good. So wet for me. Your pussy is perfect, pink, just how I like her.”

“Yeah?” you spin your fingers faster. That hot arousal returns steadily, melting back the resentment towards your own body the longer he praises. 

“Oh yeah.” You can hear the slap of skin on the other end of the phone and you can picture Dieter flat on his back jerking himself off to your pulsating cunt and you moan, loudly, tension evaporating from your body. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Tight. I just need a bit more.” 

“Me too. Let me see your face, pretty girl.” You turn the camera and gape at the sight on the screen. 

Precum drips out of his now-purple cock, his chest flushed and neck sweaty. He’s twirling the head around with his thumb at the pace you’ve set with your fingers against your clit. 

“Look at what you’ve done to me. You’re so fucking gorgeous. Can’t wait for you to be home so I can eat you out for hours.” 

“I want your cock in me, Dieter,” you gasp, furiously rubbing on your clit, sending wave after wave of pleasure coursing through you. Your cunt clenches in time with your thudding heartbeat. “You’re so thick. I wanna feel the stretch.”

“Oh, I’m gonna fuck you hard.” The confession is a low snarl, a promise made between the ridges of his teeth. He fucks his fist faster, the noise over his labored breathing obscene. “Gonna put your hands on the headboard, your pussy in my lap and I’m gonna fuck up into you until I fill you full again. Wanna make you pregnant twice.” 

Arousal floods your veins, your thighs a gooey mess. You toss your head back, back arching, and you moan as loud as you can. 

“Oh– shit, oh, oh, shit–,”

“You’re gonna leak all over my thighs and when you’re done coming so hard you can’t see straight, I’m gonna lick it up all off you, my wife. Mine. My baby. Mine. Fuck, you look so good full of me.”

He’s never this possessive, never angry that he can’t have you but he sounds livid. He fucks his fist, his hips bucking into nothing, his other hand squeezing his thigh so hard his knuckles go white. 

You circle your clit one more time and finally — your orgasm crests, your body locking up, your cunt gushing – and it leaves your mouth before you can stop it –

“Oh, Daddy–,”

You hear him gasp as if electrocuted, and you have to drop your phone to steady yourself as the weight of white-hot pleasure explodes across your body. You rock, breath gone from your lungs, mouth open in a silent scream, and everything slams back into you and you gasp, high and loud, every inch of your skin hot and trembling. You don’t realize you’re sweating until you feel it drip off your neck.  

All you can hear is Dieter panting from your phone amongst the covers, the sound muffled. Your eyes flutter as the warm waves languish, then curl, and finally, you sigh as the last waves drain out of your body. If you weren’t lying down you’re sure you’d be dizzy.

“Oh my god,” you mutter breathlessly to no one in particular.

“B-baby, you still there?”

You blindly feel around for your phone, arm so weak it’s trembling as you pull the camera towards your face

Dieter looks about as fucked out as you feel. Cock limp and still dribbling, his stomach and chest are covered in cum. He pushes his damp hair off his forehead, eyes wide and staring at the ceiling. 

“Holy shit, baby, that was …”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing your dry tongue, wishing again he was here so he could get you a glass of water. “I hope that wasn’t all of it because I really want you to say all of those things again tomorrow when you’re inside me.”

He groans and adjusts his limp cock. “You say that now but wait until Baby Bravo kicks you in the kidneys. You’ll be feeling a lot less generous towards this,” he gestures aimlessly to his naked body, “then.”

You chuckle. “Let’s just hope for the best. Besides,” you say, groaning a bit as you sit up to wipe the sweat off your neck with the robe, “I’m pretty sure I can have you eating out of the palm of my hand. Now that I know your secret . . . Daddy.” 

Dieter groans as you laugh. He shakes his head. “You shouldn’t be so surprised by now when you make me discover new kinks.” 

“Mhmm hmm.” 

He rolls his eyes as he gets up and picks the phone off the tripod. Holding the phone to his face, he wipes the cum off with his sweatpants before turning his attention back to you.

“How are you? Feel better?”

“Much better.” You stretch and lean back in the bed. If he was here, you’d probably be asking to eat you out, but at least the knife’s edge of desire has dulled. You can at least wait until nap time to jump your husband’s bones. 

“Good,” Dieter sighs, satisfied. “I’ll be there to pick you up from the airport tomorrow, okay?”

He always gets like this the nearer the due date comes, as if he can’t stand to see you lift a finger unnecessarily. You smile and nod, never wanting it to be any other way. 

“I’ll text you when I land.”

“Okay. Good night, my biggest love. I love you, so much.” 

“I love you too, Dieter.” Goddamn hormones, making you cry again. 

“Now lemme say goodbye to our little traveler.”

You wipe your eyes with your thumb as you tilt the phone to your swollen belly. 

“Good night, Baby Bravo. Can’t wait to have you around.”

And, at the sound of their father’s voice, they stir. Not kick or hurt. Just a tiny foot against your tight skin.

You are officially crying now. 

“They said hi, didn’t they?”

You’re nodding, crying, and he can’t see a damn thing. “Yeah,” you say quietly. “They said good night, Dad.”

He’s patient with you as you wipe your eyes, cheeks flushed again. 

“Baby, don’t cry, you’re breaking my heart.”

“You’re just a really good dad. And I’m so lucky,” you blubber. “This is it! I’m never leaving to go scouting again. I can’t take it.” 

“Mhmm. Let’s revisit that when you’re about two months postpartum and clawing at the walls.”

You laugh with him, your own sticky and goopy. “Fine.”

“Go to bed, love, and for the record, I’m the lucky one. Don’t forget that. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Good night.” You blow a kiss and he catches it. You roll your eyes. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You stay like that for a bit, cradled by the pillows, and your phone on your chest, thinking about everything from Dieter to the next school picture day, to the next family vacation, and of course, the zillion things you have to get done with work before the baby comes — hopefully all from the home office.

She kicks. 

You smile, wondering how you and Zelle both just know it’s a girl. Dieter has his own suspicions, he says, but he’s saving them. Orion would probably be thrilled to have a dragon in the family. You snort, hand over the place where she put her little foot.

“I miss them too, sweetie. And once you’re here, we’ll outnumber those silly boys. Maybe we’ll have to get a dog. You’ll like dogs.”

She’s silent, maybe sleeping, maybe thinking about what the heck a dog is. You smile, turn off the lamp, and peel back the covers. The sheets are cool and soft.

You fall asleep, dreaming of little feet, and hands, and wedding rings.

[nekrosdolly]

albert whiskers (fluff)

after umbrella disposes of him, albert finds himself in a shelter for abandoned hybrids. lucky for him, he's exactly what you're looking for + extra lil bit at the end!

a/n; another option on the 100 followers special poll- i just rlly wanted to write all of these i'm sorry guys... also i do not have energy to write sex now that i'm working more sorry!!! no sex in this one

tags; @whiskers-my-beloved

the fan whirs overhead, another noise that fades into the background with pathetic barks, meows, and clucking from the other hybrids in the shelter. being older, more people passed by his kennel in favor of other, younger hybrids. he's been here for at least a few years, and the pattern is always the same. new people flood in, walk right past him, and leave with a younger, sweeter hybrid that has more energy and can give them more love.

you're just looking for a pet. someone to love and adore, but not tire you out with endless wishes to play. you've always had older animals growing up, so why would a hybrid be any different?

walking through the path between multiple cages, many younger hybrids try to garner your attention, but none of them really piques your interest. as you reach the back end, you notice that there's not as many hybrids back here, and if there are, they're older and somewhat sad. you assume they've been here for a while, which rings true based on the acceptance dates on the information plagues hanging off their cage doors. most of them don't look at you, though the occasional one raises their head in curiosity and mild hope. it really just breaks your heart.

at the last cage, you stop to read the plaque as you've done with the other older hybrids in the more dim half of the room.

"albert whiskers..? how cute," you murmur, smiling softly. you peer inside the cage to find said albert whiskers and find him sitting in the corner of his cage. he looks up at you through (what you assume to be) prescription sunglasses, his tail flicking curiously. he's handsome, his platinum blonde ears twitching as he sniffs you out from afar. his tail matches his messily slickbacked hair, his pupils widening. he wasn't expecting to see someone both young ang cute in front of his cage, not since he was thrown here. of course, he doesn't get his hopes up quite yet, but his tail and ears betray him.

"well hello there," you say, placing a hand on the cage door, "i take it you're mr. whiskers?"

he stares at you for a few moments more, wondering whether or not he should engage you. it's your subtle head tilt at the end of your question that gets him to do it.

"…yes, that would be me." he says coolly, trying to appear a bit more cold. it doesn't work all that well, and you find his voice to be nice.

"you've been here quite a while, huh?" you sit down in front of his cage, placing your hands on your knees.

"i have," he resists the urge to scoot closer, "a few years."

oh, how your heart bleeds for him.

"well, can i take you home?"

"are you not looking for a more… youthful companion?" his ear twitches with interest.

you shake your head softly.

"no, i wouldn't be able to care for a younger hybrid. i work too much for that. i was hoping to find someone older."

he's silent as he figures out your true motives, if you're really trying to get his hopes up only to leave the moment he agrees.

"if it helps," you add, "i live alone. it's just me and myself, no other animals or people, i'm pretty quiet, i won't force you to cuddle, and i'm just tired of being alone in my home."

albert nods softly, rubbing his wrist as he considers what you've said. your words are tempting, and truthfully, it sounds as though you could provide him with what he needs- stability. not to mention how cute you are. your eyes are so sweet and part of him aches to just lie down in front of you and let you pet him all over.

"… alright. i suppose that will do just fine."

and like that, you take him home. he adjusts after a few weeks of overly cautious behavior. the two of you fall into a routine- you work while he busies himself doing menial tasks around the house, and when you come home, he's there to listen. he's replaced the role of a boyfriend for you, honestly.

so when you come home from work tired, and as usual, albert greets you at the door. he moves to hug you, but you brush him off.

"hi, alby." you mutter, walking right past him in favor of your bed. he follows you with hesitance.

"dear," he says, watching you crawl into bed without so much as changing out of your work clothes.

"hm?" you don't look up from the comfort of your sheets.

he walks over to the bed and climbs in bed beside you, his ears flat against his head.

"are you upset with me?" he asks quietly, unable to help the slight desperation in his voice. he'd been missing you all day and really, all he wanted was to cuddle with you even if he won't say it outright. instead, he reaches out and places a clawed hand on your shoulder, trying his hardest to avoid kneading you should you end up kicking him out.

"no, honey. i'm just tired, alright?" you say, gently brushing his hand away. clearly, something's wrong, but he doesn't press. he just lies beside you, his tail curled anxiously on the bed.

you can feel the anxiety he exudes rolling off of him in cold waves, and despite you being tired, you roll over to face him.

"just come here…" you sigh and push the sheets off of you, patting your chest. reluctant and still somewhat hurt by your initial dismissive rejection, he scoots close and presses his face into your chest. once your hand tangles in his hair, he's purring and nuzzling closer. the softness of his hair and the fur on his ears isn't lost on you. he's so happy to be with you after a full day of being alone. he's not used to such solitude without you around. even before, when he was working at umbrella, he wasn't alone.

though he feels silly about snuggling up to you like some needy pet, he can't help it. he's become somewhat dependent on you since his arrival, though he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even you.

the calm silence is familiar and soothing, nothing but the sound of your breathing filling the air. his tail flicks happily, his ears perked up as well.

evenings like these weren't unusual. after a few moments more of lying in bed, you finally sit up and press a kiss to his forehead.

"i missed you, kitty. sorry for being mean." you mutter, stroking his hair still as you look into his hazel eyes. his heart flutters, slitted pupils turning round within seconds.

"it's alright, dear. i only missed you is all," he takes your hand and kisses the back of it, keeping his eyes locked on yours, "it's too quiet without you somedays."

the blush that dusts your cheeks is unmistakable. his free hand creeps up your arm to cup your head and pull you in for a soft kiss, one he'd been looking forward to all day. you reciprocate it with love, his gentleness only something you can coax out of him. his lips are soft and honey-sweet, his whiskers tickling your face. you pull away giggling at the feeling.

"let's get you out of those clothes, hm?" he mutters, rolling the both of you over so he's on top. you blush more and nod softly, wrapping your arms around his neck.

"it's time for me to take care of my owner. you've been so good to me." he starts kissing down your jaw, his whiskers brushing against your skin.

-

extra!

it's the weekend and you've been out for too long, something albert's grown suspicious of. you're never out this long without explanation or good reason. he waits on the couch, tail swishing with irritation. his ears twitch when he hears footsteps approach the front door, yours accompanied by a pair he's unfamiliar with.

you open the door soon enough and he doesn't bother to greet you, pissed off at you for taking so long. not to mention, that nasty smell you've brought in, it almost smells like-

"albert, i got you a friend! come here, honey!" you call, holding chris's leash loosely. you shut the door with your hip.

his ears perk up and he quickly gets out of his seat, turning around to see chris redfield standing by your side, glaring at him.

"chris!"

[jj-5656]

First and Last With; James Potter

A/N: Hello again! I finally finished that wonderful request, so sorry it took forever. Football (NFL playoffs) and school preparations have kept me preoccupied. Winter break is over and I’m absolutely devastated. For anyone in college, I wish you luck for this Spring Semester. But with that being said, school starting back up means I likely won’t upload as much. So I apologize in advance. Regardless, I hope this makes up for the wait on this request. To the lovely anon and all others, enjoy!

Summary: The one where the Marauders vacation to the Potter’s beach house, and a revealing drinking game ensues...

TW: Descriptions of panic attacks, Sirius is an ass as usual, a lot of mutual pining.

   “Marlene, you have packed half of your house and more, it’s just a week’s vacation.”

“Anything could happen, Sirius. Better to be over prepared than under prepared.”

“I’m just happy James is filthy rich.” Dorcas deadpans, straightening when you and Lilly shoot her a disapproving look. “And so, very generous at the same time.”

“I’m not filthy rich.” James laughs, taking your bags from your grasp and loading them into the trunk for you. Amongst all of your friends belongings, piled high enough to reach the top of the van you’ve rented for the adventure. “We’re just...Comfortable.”

“That’s what all rich people say.” You and Remus look to each other, stunned at your simultaneous blunt confessions. 

“Shush, the lot of you.” Lilly chides, never sparing commonalities. 

“Remind me why we couldn’t just use floo powder? I’m already sweating, and my complexion does not do well in heat.” Sirius fans himself dramatically. James allows you to lift yourself over the mountains of bags with his arm for support in order to reply. 

“When have any of you experienced the adventure of a road trip?” You’re beaming at the thought, James takes your distraction as an opportunity to admire your unusually giddy attitude. Though the real reason you’re so eager to be away from home pulls at his mind, his grin faltering. He pokes your side, grabbing your attention. 

“Miss sunshine gets shotgun, I’ve called it.”

“Prongs, I thought you’d have wanted me to be your passenger princess?”

“Absolutely not, though I’ll miss those luscious locks of yours. I’m driving, so I select my navigator.”

“You’ve been there a million times.” You note, crossing your arms incredulously. James smirks, placing his burgundy and gold quidditch cap atop your head. 

“I’d much rather you keep me company.” He says so only you can hear, unknowing of your flushing when he turns back to Sirius. “Pads, Moons is gonna need a pretty view, it’s fortunate he’ll have you in the middle seat.”

“I’m reading! Reading this entire time, very busy.” Remus teases, pleased with the raven-haired boy’s mock offense. 

You round the corner of the van after checking the trunk for the fourth time, positive you haven’t forgotten any supplies for the trip. James is at the passenger side, holding the door open for you. He’s got a pair of prescription sunglasses on, and looks very different. No less handsome, if anything, the shades accentuate the bravado you’ve always envied. His arms are especially toned after another quidditch season, tanned from the summer sun you’ve missed so dearly. You’re staring. 

“Systems ready, co-pilot?” He beams down at you, pulling his cap over your eyes in teasing. You stick a tongue out at him, pulling his arms away so you can  adjust it right again. 

“I feel silly in this.”

“Nonsense, you look adorable. My clothes suit you.” He defends, so casual you don’t let the words resonate until after he’s shut your door and rounded to the drivers side. 

“Enjoy the passenger seat, princess.” Sirius sneers, pouting despite not holding any true ill-will. 

“Gladly.” 

************

“Are we there yet?” 

“No, Dorcas. Just like we weren’t there ten minutes ago.” James glances at the girl through the rearview, slightly amused with her childish complaints. 

“You know, we could just pull over and-”

“No floo powder!” You and Lilly shout to Sirius, hoping not to have awoken a sleeping Marlene and Remus. Sirius covers their ears, both of them having dropped their heads on each one of his shoulders some time throughout their slumber. You finish fiddling with the radio when a good song comes on, taking a moment to look at the lot of your friends all corralled in the van. 

“Where’s the camera, James?” 

“On my side door here, I’ll pull over if you want it.” 

“Oh, so you’ll pull over for her.”

“Shut it, Pads.” 

“No need, I can reach it.” You lean over the seat, careful not to block his view of the road as you quickly grab it. James swallows, clears his throat to act natural whilst all of his insides begin to burn. 

“Hot?” Is all you ask, studying his discomposure.

“What?” He starts, voice shaky and strained. Sirius falls into a fit of muffled laughter from the back, leaving you confused. “J-Just a little warm, yeah.” Potter recovers, now well aware you were inquiring about temperature. You turn up the AC, taking the cover off the lens and pointing the camera toward the back. Sirius smiles wide for the camera, handsome features lighted by the early afternoon sun. Marlene and Remus drool along on his shoulders as Lilly beams brightly from the back. Looking positively radiant, as always. Dorcas smiles, but holds up her favorite finger to the lens. You grin,full of adoration for the entire lot of them as you snap a couple photos, ensuring they’re all in the frame. 

James admires in increments from the rearview, blowing a raspberry to the camera when you point it at him. 

“Eyes on the road, Potter.” He shakes his head, running a hand over the steering wheel in a mindless habit as he hears the camera snap. Looking over quickly to smile at the lens. Effortlessly handsome, as usual. 

“We have to take as many pictures as possible this week.” You demand, getting excited all over again for the much needed vacation, spent with all your best friends, no less. 

You roll down your window even more, sticking your head to enjoy the warm, salty air. It smells of the beach, grass, all things green and beautiful. You’re so happy your head spins, giggling to yourself as you catch Lilly doing the same behind you. Meeting her eyes in the side mirror and scrunching your nose when she blows a kiss, an embellished hand pretending to capture it in the air and holding it to your heart. 

James does a double take from his view of the road and then you. Trying to stay focused and not find any distraction in your adorably delighted mood. His brows furrow when you shuffle forward, aiming to get even more of your body out of window the feel the entirety of what this beautiful view has to offer.

“Absolutely not.” He chastises, a finger hooking onto your belt loop and tightening. His eyes are on the road, one hand on the wheel as he tugs you back inside. 

“Lame!” You whine, hitting his arm in distaste. 

“I prefer my friends with their pretty heads in tact, thank you.” 

You settle in your seat, still full of delight but a little more contemplative as you think about what got you here.

“Summer vacation!” Sirius throws himself between you and Remus during lunch. Gathering an assortment of food on his own plate. You’ve barely eaten, stomach turning at the thought of being home for two months. You’re nudged from under the table, meeting James’ gaze, whose eyes avert to your abandoned plate. A subtle request for you to eat. You offer a weak smile, shrugging before your friends go on. 

“Two whole months without exams.” Marlene adds, absolutely pleased with not having to spend another second with her nose in a book. 

“We’ll be seventh years, I can hardly believe it.” You’ve considered Lilly’s words the entirety of this last month of classes, absolutely dreading going home. Hogwarts is more home than your house would ever be, and your friends are the only real family you have. You lose your breath at this, biting at the nail of your thumb and wincing when it draws blood. 

“I’m gonna head to the library,” You announce, blinking hard to fight the room from blurring. “Forgot to turn in my potions textbook.” It’s believable enough for the group to nod along, chorusing their farewells as you head out of the great hall. Heart racing and hands trembling. James takes only a moment, eyes following you the entire time. It’s not his business, but he knows that demeanor. He’s seen all of this before, in the boy he calls his best friend. Sirius Black, who leans forward and shoots James a look. Instantly, the chaser is on his feet, mumbling a feeble excuse and heading out of the hall in search for you. 

“I think he left the curling iron on.”

James searches the corridor wildly, all of the students being in the Great Hall makes the search easy, he can follow the sound of your fleeting footsteps with ease in this sea of silence. He follows your distant frame up a set of stairs, cursing to himself when they shift before he can follow your path. He’s searching for a new route, not wanting to shout to you and scare you even more.

There’s a lot of running, a couple instances of tripping over his own feet, but eventually Potter catches up to you. 

You’re sat in a windowsill beneath an overhang of a hallway above, curled in on yourself. James approaches carefully, trying to control his panting breaths. 

“Fuck, James!” You startle each other, studying the other instantly.

“You’re” the athlete coughs, winded, “so fast.” You smile, but it does little to calm you down, because as he gets closer, the view around him blurs, and everything sounds cloudy, distant. 

“I’m,” you try to form words, too loud because you can’t hear yourself properly. “F-fine.” You try to move, try escaping to prevent embarrassing yourself further. Clutching your chest and swiping at the flood of tears that can’t be ceased. 

“You’re not. You’re having a panic attack.” 

“Happened b-before,” you wheeze, staring at your hands to make sure they’re real “I’m good.” 

“And I’m a humble introvert that loves Slytherin, sit down.” You begin to wheeze, rubbing your hands over your legs to stop them from sweating, ground yourself maybe. “I’m gonna hug you, tight. Is that alright?” You nod, because you’re not entirely sure what he’s just said and it’s easier to comply. 

He encloses you in an embrace, loosening for only a second when you fight it. He’s squeezing again, but it’s not unpleasant. You’re shaking, and your breaths are still rapid. James swallows, terrified and unsure. Because all of this usually helps Sirius but he’s still kind of freaking the fuck out.

“Let’s talk about something.” He suggests, wincing when you hiccup for air in reply. “I know you’ll love this. What’s something about me that annoys you?” You’re aware he’s trying to distract you, and you feel like you’re dying, so you give it a go in the off chance it’ll help.

“You’re im-immature.”

“Good. But you’ve done better than that, love.” 

“You’re reckless. You play quidditch like,” you lick your lips, trying to control your trembling. “Like you’re indestructible.” 

“Attagirl, something else?”

“You’re picky, and...And you’re too stubborn to try new things.” James hums, recalling a time you’d forced him to drink pumpkin juice an he hurled in the lavatory minutes later. He rests his chin on your head, pleased when the added pressure slows your breathing. 

“You’d do anything for your friends, no matter the personal expense. It’s self destructive, p-probably exhausting.”

“Ouch. You really know how to flatter a man, love.” 

“I don’t want to go home.” You whisper, so quiet he’d miss it had he not been surveying your every move. The confession shocks even you, and James, for likely the first time in his life, is devastated to be right about something. 

“I’m not gonna let you. We’re going to figure this out. I’m gonna figure this out, I promise.” 

“You’re doing that thing again.” You note, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your robe. Further comforted in the feel of his chest vibrating against you from laughing.

“And you’re forming full sentences.” He loosens, giving you space to decide whether or not you want to separate.  You don’t, not right away, not when you can feel the strong, stable beating of his heart. 

“What am I gonna do? I can’t stay here over break. Even if Dumbledore allowed it, my family would-” You falter, unable to finish. James holds tight again, nauseated. 

“I promised. And I intend on keeping it, love.”

**********

“Land! Sweet, sweet land.” Sirius cries, throwing himself onto the freshly cut grass. 

“James, it’s stunning.” Lilly shades her eyes to admire the shore house. Standing taller than the others around it. 

“It’s home. Away from home, that is.” James shrugs, and you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. There’s a faint, deep-rooted envy for the blessings your friends hold. Sirius rolls onto his back to look at you, the only one noticing your hunched shoulders amongst the rest of the group beginning to unload the van. 

“Shall we go inside, lovely? Get dibs on the best rooms while these common folk collect our luggage. He extends his arm for you to take, adjusting the sunglasses adorning his face and ignoring the displeased looks of your friends. Stealing a kiss to your temple as he leads you inside. 

“Moony, sweetheart, do be careful with my things. I’ll show you what bed to place them on.”

“Fuck off, Pads.”

“That’s Sir Padfoot, to you.” 

You and Sirius falter, shocked to see an older woman placing the finishings of a homemade meal on the large kitchen table. The inside is even more impressive than the out, but you don’t have much time to appreciate the decorum. Considering you’re engulfed in an oddly familiar embrace. 

“Welcome, welcome!” She beams, holding Sirius’ face and kissing his cheeks with small pinches. 

“How’s my Siri?”

“Alright, mum. Thanks. James didn’t mention you’d be here. Though it’s a very happy surprise.” He looks at the wrinkled, stunning woman that smells of lavender and tea like she’s hung every star in the sky. It’s then you make the obvious connection this is Mrs. Potter. 

“Oh, he doesn’t know either. I’m only here to make sure you’re all settled in and then I’ll be on my way. We haven’t visited here in a while, I wanted to be sure it looked alright for you all.”

“Hard to imagine it ever looks less than gorgeous,” you say without thinking, “thank you for having us. This is lovely.” 

“And so are you, dear. Sirius, tell me this beautiful young girl is with you?” She strokes your hair, and it’s the most comforting touch you’ve likely ever felt. 

“Only in my dreams, unfortunately. Unless dear y/n would like to make a wish come true?” You laugh, swatting away his puckered lips. 

“Y/n? Oh, I’ve been waiting to meet you! Sweetheart, Jamie talks about you so much in his letters!”

“Let’s get waste-Mum!” James drops the bag in hand, yours. Pulling the handle of liquor behind his back in pure shock. “What are you doing here?” 

“Thought I’d have a warm meal waiting for you kids. You must be starving after that drive. Though I’m so happy you did as opposed to powdering here. Shows some responsibility. And Jamie gets so sick sometimes with the powder and all-”

“Mum!” The taller boy repeats, setting the array of luggage in hand down and hiding the bottle behind it. 

“I’m doting, aren’t I? Remmy!”  She stops herself, rushing over to envelop the taller boy in her arms. He, just as Sirius, is absolutely pleased to see her. She goes down the line of girls, putting faces to names and genuinely loving every second of it. James sighs, no genuine distaste in his nature as he observes.

Sirius throws an arm over your shoulder, cheeky as ever. “Mum was just telling us about your letters home.” 

“You’re just as pretty as he said you were. All you girls are so beautiful!” She goes on, blissfully unaware of her beet-red son. 

“She exaggerates.” James scratches his neck, skin burning with embarrassment. 

“Does she?” Siris pulls you closer, basking in your shared humiliation. 

“This food looks wonderful Mrs. Potter. Thank you so much for thinking of us.” Lilly clasps her hands together, rolling her eyes fondly at James’ indebted glance. 

“Call me Euphemia, please. And yes, you all must be starving. Come, fill those bellies with something warm.” You’re in a state of shock as you sit, unaccustomed to such hospitality and genuine kindness. It’s evident where James gets his big heart, undying selflessness. 

The food is amazing, you all go for seconds with a chorus of shared appreciation and compliments. Euphemia beams as she collects her things, pleased to meet the lot of friends her son cares for so deeply. 

“All the beds have fresh sheets, and there’s extra throw blankets in the linen closet. Jamie, your father says go easy on the fire whisky. He’d ask for no drinking, but we all know that’s a long shot. Don’t break anything, and Remmy, keep everyone in check.” The taller boy nods swiftly, no doubt having heard the orders before. James gets up from his seat, kissing his mothers cheek and enveloping her in a hug. 

“Thank you mum, seriously.” She fixes his hair, wiping invisible smudges from his face in a fit of doting. 

“No problem, I’m glad you were all able to make it here. You’re welcome to stay as long as you’d like. All of you.” Theres a quick moment where she meets both you and Sirius’ eyes, the two of you nodding with feigned smiles. Quickly, she kisses both Moony and Padfoot’s heads, stopping for only a moment to caress your cheek with her thumb, a faint sadness in her gaze. Everyone else is enveloped in conversation, passing servings across the table as they would at the Great Hall. 

“You’ll keep an eye on my Jamie, won’t you?” She whispers, touch soothing you with an unknown ease. 

“Of course, though I’m not sure he needs it.” You hold her wrist, somehow not minding the affection whatsoever. 

“So he likes to think. He does, really, speak so fondly of you in his letters. You’re even more lovely than he described.” You want to cry, so overwhelmed with her generosity and love, a maternal energy so strong it’s wiped your mind of any anxieties. 

“Alright, mum. Let the poor girl eat.” James guides her toward the fireplace, while his mother pats his arm and says something to him you don’t quite catch. James’ ears burn bright red, and he nudges her gently so she’ll stop looking over at you. The rest of the group turns toward the fireplace, echoing their farewells and gratuity as she waves. Floo powder enveloping the space around her and sending her off. 

“Does that turn your stomach just looking at it, Jamie?” Marlene mocks, the rest of your laughing through bites of food as he flips her off. 

“Fuck off, the lot of you.” 

“We should start cleaning up.” You suggest, taking your own plate and bringing it to the sink. “This way we can unpack before the sun sets.” Lilly follows, taking her and Dorcas’ plate to you as you begin washing. Sirius groans, grabbing a dish towel from one of the drawers and drying the dishes you hand him. 

“Can’t we just charm the sponges to clean these?”

“Dad had them countered so they can’t be charmed. Said it was supposed to teach me some ‘household responsibility.’” Sirius howls, thoroughly amused.

“I’m just curious about these detailed letters back home.” Remus mutters as he carries his plate past James, dodging his swings and rushing toward the group at the sink for safety. 

*****************

After everyone’s settled in, and you’ve all recovered from the ‘who called what room first’ arguments, there’s an obligatory round of shots. A bin begins to pile high with cans, and you’re all sat around a bonfire atop the Potter’s outdoor furniture. Even the furniture for the backyard looks expensive, so you clutch your drink in hopes not to make any spills. 

You’re buzzed now, skin tingling with an uncommon ease as you lean against the arm of the couch. Sea breeze easing the warm air as the fire pops in front of you. 

“Alright, none of you are drunk enough.” Sirius chastises, shifting in his seat and tossing Lilly another beer. “Never have I ever,” you all groan in half-assed annoyance as the name of the game sounds, “been snitched on by Peeves.” 

You and the rest of the girls take slow, ashamed, sips. The boys all looking over in amazement. 

“We snuck out one time! All I wanted was a bloody butter beer.” Marlene confesses, flushed. James stretches as he approaches, still sore from driving. He passes you his cup, grinning when you cringe at whatever concoction he’s come up with. You move your legs so he can sit beside you, the rest of the couches having been taken. 

“It was a terrible craving, but nonetheless worth the loss of points for Gryffindor.” 

“Is that why we were tied with Ravenclaw mid semester?” Remus laughs over his cup. 

“We still won the cup!” You and Lilly defend, James taking hold of your legs to place them on top of his. He isn’t even thinking about it, too enthralled with the teasing conversation before him as he slides a hand under the cuff of your jeans. Warm hands calloused from quidditch running over your shin. You’ve always found affection with him comes easier than with others, and the touch comforts you, electricity lingering on your skin. 

“Never have I ever, had my first kiss.” Because Dorcas also aims to have the rest of you drinking more, she says what she thinks is the most common proposition. Your stomach turns, and you debate on taking a sip just because it’ll spare you the embarrassment. You must consider it too long, because Sirius’ brows shoot up in shock. 

“Merlin, how?” Is all Sirius manages, the girls’ jaws dropping because you’ve never told them. 

“I volunteer!” Marlene shoots a hand up while you curl into the cushions, wishing you’d just had the drink. 

“It’s not that there haven’t been opportunities.” You struggle through the explanation, tugging on the sleeves of your shirt to fight the cold. “I just, I guess, want the first one to matter. If it’s been this long I may as well make it special.” They all coo in mocking, laughing when you flip them off. 

“I get it.” James pats your leg, taking generous sips of his own drink. 

“You don’t.” Theres an amusement in your tone, no real meanness to any of it. 

“Well what about that Hufflepuff third semester, he was totally into you.” Dorcas inquires. 

“Are we seriously this interested in my love life, or lack thereof?” You roll your eyes when they all agree, giddy from the topic and the alcohol. “I thought he was into me, but I don’t know. We stopped talking after a while.”

“Wait,” Remus narrows his brows, too contemplative to see James’ signals. “That curly haired guy, beater for Huffle?” You nod, giggling because he’s not usually this slow to understanding, clearly inebriated. 

“Wasn’t that the kid that came up to us at Hogsmeade, Prongs?” Potter vehemently shakes his head, chugging his drink again. 

“Nope, I don’t think so.” 

“No, I’m pretty sure it was. You two didn’t get on that well, I think.” Sirius covers his mouth to muffle his laughing, basking in Moony’s drunken confession. 

“You sabotaged me!” You frown, James grabbing your leg so you can’t kick his side. 

“Listen, I overheard him boasting in the locker room. He’s not the type you should be around. Trust me.” He’s sincere, enough to make you relax. 

“He was a bit of an ass, sweetheart. Prongs isn’t entirely wrong.”

“You two are still snog-blocks.” Dorcas is quick at your defense, crossing her arms in solidarity.

“If I wasn’t banished to solitude, I’d kiss you, Dorcas.” 

“Time and place, lovely.” You clutch your heart, feigning a blush in your antics.

*********

“Alright, I need my beauty rest. Someone needs to remain the prettiest of the friend group.” Sirius stretches, tapping a dazed Remus on the cheek to get him up. His actions initiate the turning in of the rest of the group. To which you and James groan. 

“It’s only 2, you’re all lame!” Potter sneers, looking to you for consolation. You nod along, displeased with their departure. 

“You night owls can stay up as long as you want, but we have all week to be sleep deprived.” Marlene ruffles James’ hair and kisses your temple as she stupors inside, giggling all the way with the other girls. 

“And then there were two.” You stretch, moving over when James shifts, moving into a laying position. In order to fit comfortably, you still have to keep your legs over his. “You know, now theres three other open couches.”

“I like it here.” He decides, enclosing his hands over his chest and settling in. You chuckle, letting him tangle his legs in yours. 

It’s confusing, because he chooses you as his passenger, his seat-mate, scares other guys away. Fuck, he planned an entire trip just because you and Sirius have such shitty home lives. Guilt twinges in your chest, and the alcohol allows you to finally say what you’ve been holding in since you first got in the car. “James?” He hums, hazel eyes looking up at the array of stars in the night sky. “Why did you do all this?” Potter sits up, looking over to you in disbelief. 

“Why wouldn’t I? Don’t you like it here?”

“Like it? It’s a shore house filled with all of my closest friends and alcohol. I love it here.” He laughs, nudging your legs with his own in teasing. 

“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he starts, answering your question with one of his own. “Would you be willing to spend the whole summer here?” 

This time, you sit up, brows raised in shock. “Sorry?” 

“Instead of having to go home, you could stay here.” 

“James, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that-”

“It wouldn’t just be us two.” He unnecessarily reassures. “I’ve already spoke with Pads, and he’s staying. My mum doesn’t want him going home either.”

“You already talked to your parents about it?” 

“In the chance either of you said yes. They both are more than happy to have us stay here. There’s internship positions at my dad’s company, and he said if we looked after the house and helped him out, we’d be more than welcome to stay.” 

“Are you starting a shelter for the broken homes club or something?” You jest, not in poor taste, but because it’s the only defense mechanism you know. James frowns anyway, upset at the thought.

“I care about the both of you. And...I’d never want either of you going home to- Well, anything other than a place you feel safe. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to you. Knowing I could have stopped it. Understand?”

You nod, warm tears brimming in your eyes. Because in a world full of people that don’t, James Potter cares. You tackle him in a hug, overcome with the foreign feeling of being cared about, protected. He falters, wrapping an arm around your waist with a small laugh. 

“That’s a yes, then?” You nod, smile pulling at your lips when he uses his thumb to wipe away your tears. 

“James?”

“Yeah?” He’s soft-spoken now, eyes studying yours as you press your hands to his chest. 

“Is there...Any other reason you told that guy to stay away from me?” He swallows, licking his lips with an unusual anxiety to him. He meets your eyes again, pleading for another hint.

“Would you want there to be?”

“I’d like to have my first kiss.” You play with a pull in his sweater, fighting a smile at his nervous demeanor. “Would you want it to be you?” He nods, slow, and honestly unsure if you’re fucking with him. Considering how embarrassed he’d be if this is some joke, or a dream, maybe. “James?” You move closer, and he snaps out of his daze.

“I would.” He averts his eyes to your lips, back to your eyes again to ensure you’re sincere. “Like to kiss you, I mean.” 

You remove the space between you, putting your lips to his and hoping it comes natural like everyone says. It must, because he’s pulling you into his lap, a hint of a whine escaping his throat. You grin, flushing at his eagerness. He squeezes your sides harder, a warning. 

“Stop it.”  He continues past your jaw, down your neck, hearts thrumming with excitement and uncertainty. He tilts your head with his thumb, grinning when he nips at your skin and you gasp. Pulling back, he surveys his work, kissing you two more times before letting you breath. 

Is that what I’ve been missing out on?” You pant, energy coursing through you and accentuating your buzz tenfold.

“Up to expectations?”

“Exceeded, I’m pretty sure.” You blink hard, taking hold of his wrists and moving them so they can slide under the hem of your shirt. You hold them at your waist, a silent sign to keep them there. Though you’re sure he would have anyway. He kisses you again, more intense this time, finally allowing all the pent up tension between the two of you release. 

James, against every fiber of being in his body, pulls you away from him. Both breathing hard to collect yourselves. “While I’d really, really like to keep this up.” He starts, trying not to reconsider when your perfume envelopes his senses. “I’d like to take you out for dinner first. If you’ll let me.”

“Are you asking me on a date, Potter?” You whisper, teasing him as if it’s the hottest gossip to reach Hogwarts. 

“Are you gonna say yes, pretty girl? Or leave me hanging?” You nod, and James throws his head back against the cushions, absolutely relieved. 

*************

You blink awake, fire still burning brightly after being charmed by Lilly earlier in the evening. In the midst of you and James conversation, filled with recalling old times, plans for the rest of the summer, and a lot more alcohol, you both fell asleep. James’ jumper covers your frame, while the boy lays on the other side with only a sweater to keep warm. 

“Prongs.” You nudge him, wincing when he groans. “It’s too cold, let’s go in.”

“Too tired,” he croaks, voice riddled with sleep, “too drunk. Come over on this side.” He rolls on his back, groaning again when the world spins with him. 

“What, like...Next to you?”

“No, curled up on the floor like a cat.” Your brows furrow at his sassiness, fighting a smile as you crawl over. Muttering a half-assed apology when you nearly knee his groin. 

Hesitantly, you place a head on his chest, letting him grab you under one knee and pulling it up so you leg rests over his abdomen. Immediately, he releases a deep breath, fully relaxed. Your body, though, tingles with that same electricity from before, keeping you awake. 

“Sleep.” He orders, nudging the back of your head with his shoulder, eyes closed but somehow aware.

“Can’t.”

“Is this alright?” He blinks awake, afraid he’s made you uncomfortable. 

“Good, this is good.” You reassure, pulling on his jumper so it covers both of you. He pushes your arm away, tugging on the fabric and covering only you again, stern in his actions. 

“Close your eyes. I need us both to sleep this alcohol off so I can kiss you again.”

“Who says I’ll let you, Potter?”

“I may have been your first kiss, but I’m also aiming to be your last. So please, Dove, shut up and sleep” You’re speechless, he’s stunned you with his confession and simultaneous attitude. 

“I hate you.”

“I seriously doubt that.” There’s a smile on his face, you can hear it in his grumbling voice. Wordlessly, he moves the arm that’s under you so he can stroke your cheek, eyebrows, and jaw with the hook of his finger. Knowing the gentle touch will send you off to sleep. And it does, because you don’t wake again until morning. 

********

“Rise and shine, love birds. If you want to hoot with the owls, you’ve got to fly with the eagles.” Sirius chimes, a click of a camera sounding out after he speaks.

“Any louder, Pads, and I’ll break your jaw.” James covers your ears, shielding you from your friends shrill laughter with an intense glare. His head pounds something awful, and he’s pretty sure he’s never been this hungover in his entire life. He remembers every second, though, memories of last night bringing a dopey smile to his face. Despite the alcohols consequences. 

“Hey.” He nudges your arm, ignoring the gawking of his friends through the glass sliding door as he wakes you. You yawn, stretching atop him and regaining sense of your surroundings. 

“Are we supposed to be spinning?” James rolls his eyes, much too fond of you for his own good. 

“We have to get up, theres breakfast.”

“I can’t eat a single thing right now.”

“Yes you can,” he pushes you again, sighing in feigned annoyance when you rub your face into his shirt. Shielding the morning light from your eyes. In one swift movement, he sits you both up and hurls you over his shoulder, ignoring your squirms of protest with an obnoxious yawn. He sets you down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, grumbling a hello to your astonished group of friends. You’re too hungover to feel embarrassed, smiling a thank you to Remus when he slides his glass of orange juice toward you, Sirius’ sunglasses over his eyes. 

“Gimme those,” you plead, extending an arm that’s quickly swatted away.

“Get your own,” he whines, “I let you have my juice.” You accept this, nursing the glass as though it’ll save your life. 

“Late night?” Lilly teases, putting a plate of food in front of you and James. You both groan, but offer your gratitude for breakfast anyway. 

“Figured you would have at least made it inside.” Marlene chastises, amused with your zombie-like states. You frown when James finishes what’s left in your glass, watching as he leans across the counter to grab the carton and refills it. Sirius places a steaming cup of tea in front of you and Potter, avoiding your distrusting gaze as he clears his throat to speak. 

He’s awfully cheeky all the sudden, hoisting himself onto the counter with his signature mischievous grin. “Never have I ever…Had my first kiss?” His voice tilts in questioning at the end, and you’re momentarily displeased with the realization you’ll be spending the rest of the summer with the shit-starting bastard you consider a friend. 

You’re absolutely flushed, curling in on yourself when a chorus of cheers erupts after taking a swift sip from your mug.

[thosewickedlovelies]

Private Eye, chapter 2 | Tim Rockford/Marcus Moreno x F!Reader

Summary: With too much evidence and not enough progress, you and “Agent Rockford” go and meet the neighbors. But you’ll need a more creative solution to get into the rest of the mansion…

Tags: vague murder(?) mystery; workplace romance; we meet Marcus's powers 👀

Word count: 5,460

Note: welcome to chapter 2! I've lost perspective on this one honestly, but please enjoy the promised sneaking around in the dark 🥷🏻

ch 1 | Masterlist

It’s clear from the get-go that you and Marcus make an effective team. Your strengths balance the other’s weaknesses. You’re both thorough and driven to make something of this strange case- but you’re drowning in evidence, and the potentialities pull you every which way.

“We need a board,” Marcus declares.

It’s day three since his arrival, and he’s made himself at home at a desk in the basement. So have you, for that matter- it’s easier to keep everything related to the case in one place, so you drag a spare desk next to his and divvy up the paperwork. The wood-paneled walls are about 30 years out of style and the space is full of old metal filing cabinets, but it could be worse. There’s some natural light. Plus, you have the bathrooms all to yourselves.

At his pronouncement, you glance at the clock. “It’ll make a late night to start it now,” you point out.

“I don’t care, I can’t make sense of anything while it’s all piles of paper.” Marcus groans, sitting up and rolling his neck. 

He sees your expression and falters. “You don’t have to stay. I don’t mind doing it. Or starting it, anyway.”

Your sigh flutters the documents strewn over your joined desks. “There’s a drawer of takeout menus upstairs. Any preferences?”

His face lifts, and it honestly defies logic that a man can look simultaneously so rugged and so adorable.

“Do you have a good Chinese?”

--

Marcus is surprisingly adept with chopsticks, making you wonder how many evenings he’s spent like this. Maybe he just really likes Chinese food? You’re adamant about separating food and work- taking an actual dinner break- and he seems perfectly happy to follow your lead.

He makes a good dinner date, easily balancing personal chitchat with lighter topics. Despite the looming task ahead, it’s a refreshing change from your normal quiet evenings alone.

After tracking down the promised corkboard, thumbtacks, and enough red yarn to commit a murder yourself, you’re ready to carve a path into the uncharted jungle that is this case.

“Okay,” Marcus finally sighs. “If we’re gonna do this, I need to show you something. And you can’t laugh,” he warns.

His tone gives you pause. You regard him warily, until he takes out…a glasses case?

From the case Marcus removes a pair of glasses with dark, round frames, and lifts them to his face with exaggerated reluctance. He looks for all the world like a schoolboy sitting in the principal’s office. Laughter begins to bubble beneath your ribs.

As if he can sense it, he pins you with a warning look.

You clap your hands over your mouth, but the giggles spill out regardless. “Oh my god, is this why you’ve left your sunglasses on every time we’ve gone to the mansion? Are they prescription?”

“Yes,” Marcus sulks. His pouty lower lip only enhances the schoolboy effect, and your laughter redoubles.

“I can see why you don’t wear them around the other officers. They’re so cute,” you tease. “I just want to pinch your cheeks.” You don’t, but you pinch the air toward him for effect.

At your words Marcus ducks his head. Is that a hint of color in his cheeks?

You clear your throat, quelling your amusement. “Okay, sorry, I‘m done. They are cute though. Very…suburban dad.”

The glasses lend him a perfectly harmless air. With his suit jacket long since shucked off and his tie loosened after-hours, you could easily imagine him waiting on a little girl after soccer practice, arms open for an energetic hug. He’d be the heartthrob of the soccer moms with his handsome face and old-school manners, you think wryly. His shoulders in that gun holster don’t hurt either.

Marcus snorts. “Huh. Well, you got me there. That’s my other job.” He says it with perfect nonchalance, but your mouth parts. Marcus avoids your gaze, suggesting that he’s well aware of the trust he’s placing in you by sharing such information. You’d wondered at his ring, but still…

As if reading your mind, he holds up his left hand. The matte silver ring on the third finger glints in the light. “Widower, though. So, no one to come after you for flirting.”

You sputter and choke on your noodles. Marcus laughs.

--

“Do it again,” you beg. “Pleeeease.” 

Two days later, and you’re considering bringing down another corkboard. The one across the room is nearly covered already. Newspaper clippings, photographs, evidence files, interview notes. All overlapping and criss-crossed with red string in an array that would make a conspiracy theorist proud.

Marcus tsks. Despite himself, he lifts your proffered thumbtack into the air with a point of his finger. It hovers between you, yellow plastic glinting around the metal barb- until with a flick, Marcus embeds it into the corkboard on the opposite wall.

You had inquired only briefly about Marcus’s powers the first day you met. “Metal manipulation,” he’d replied, still sitting beside you at the captain’s desk.

“Must be useful against bullets,” was all you’d said.

But today, watching him remove and rearrange the bestringed tacks in the board like a conductor before a symphony- you had to ask for more details.

With a quick glance at the stairwell, he’d reached into his jacket and removed the gun from his holster. “Actually carrying around a gun is mostly for other people’s benefit. It can be anything I need it to be.” Marcus then proceeded to crumple the metal into a ball, stretch it back out into a crowbar, form tiny fragments into keys with which he unlocked every lock in the room, and finally, with his eyes closed in concentration, returned the pistol to its original form. 

Your mouth hung open.

Marcus offered the reborn gun to you for inspection. 

“Wow.” The metal was faintly warm to the touch. You turned it over, opening the chamber and clicking the trigger, but everything seemed to be exactly the right shape it should. “So you’re basically a metalbender. Like from that kid’s show.” 

Marcus’s laughter warmed the air. “Exactly. My daughter loves that show. When she was little she was obsessed with Toph, because she was ‘just like me.’”

His smile was infectious, full of pride in and love for his daughter. Suburban dad heartthrob strikes again, you thought, your cheeks warming.

“I can do other, less flashy things, too. That’s kind of the point of my branch of the FBI. They train us to use our powers in ways you wouldn’t immediately consider. For instance, I can tell you the elemental composition of every metal object in this room, just by concentrating. I can usually tell if there’s foreign material in or on metal things, too, even trace amounts.”

You thought about what that could mean. “So if someone didn’t clean a piece of evidence well enough, you’d be able to tell even if forensics failed?”

“That’s right,” Marcus confirmed. He looked strangely somber about it, as if the morality of his powers was a question whose weight never lightened. 

“Huh.” 

That was something to chew on. There was a stretch of silence while you mulled over all he’d shared.

It didn’t last long, though, as if Marcus was afraid of what conclusions you might come to.

“It also means I can do stuff like this-” and then he’d levitated a thumbtack and shot it across the room like a bullet.

“No more, now,” he says, stern but apologetic. “We have to be careful at work.” Still, a conspiratorial light twinkled in his eyes.

Marcus stands from his desk with a stretch and a groan. He approaches the board you’d just had him flinging thumbtacks at and regards it.

“Who are we missing here? Is there anyone else involved who could be a suspect?” The stubble on his cheeks scrapes audibly at his thoughtful scratch. He’s squinting slightly- his glasses lay half-covered by an evidence bag on his desk.

A knock sounds from the top of the staircase. “Detective? Agent Rockford? Some new data for you.” 

“Come on down,” you call.

“Don’t tell me it’s more knives,” Marcus groans.

The junior officer, Richards, falters at the base of the stairs, clearly cowed by the sight of the big bad FBI agent turning his scowl from the corkboard to him.

You stifle a laugh. Scowl, your ass- how no one has ever clocked that for the myopic squint it is is beyond you.

“Stand down, Agent,” you drawl. Pointedly, you rustle the bag hiding his glasses as you stand. “Thanks, Richards.”

The officer hesitates, glancing between the file he’d just handed you and the corkboard Marcus is studying. 

“...Did you have some thoughts on the case?” you prompt.

Marcus looks over alertly, and the officer scampers. “No, no, not until I read up on it some more. See you around!”

You snigger as you head over to the board, skimming the file as you go.

“Friendly guy,” Marcus remarks, although his glance toward the staircase is bemused. 

Your snicker turns into a full-belly laugh. “Normally he is friendly, Rockford. If you didn’t always look like you’re suspicious of everyone, he’d probably ask you out.”

“What?” Marcus’s brow furrows.

You exaggeratedly imitate his grumpy-looking squint, putting an elderly pucker in your lips for good measure. You plant your face about an inch from the corkboard.

“Oh.” Marcus grimaces. “I know, it’s a terrible habit. Missy is always warning me I’m going to get even more wrinkles.” He sighs in resignation.

You hide a smile, your glance skipping over the fine lines around his eyes and mouth- signs of age that a child wouldn’t understand the appeal of. “I hope your FBI team has a super-powered eye surgeon.”

“Actually- uh.” Marcus cuts himself off, his mouth turning down. “That’s probably classified,” he mumbles.

--

“Any plans for the weekend, Agent Rockford?” You make an effort to use Marcus’s fake name every so often, so you won’t forget and slip up around others.

Marcus leans back in his chair. “Nothing exciting. I thought I might check out the mansion again, maybe see if the neighbors are in. Get some interviews.”

You look at him. 

After a second, he realizes that you haven’t responded, and looks over. “…What?”

“People usually make non work-related plans on the weekends, Marcus.”

“Oh. Well…” Marcus shrugs, fidgeting. “Missy’s going to be at a school thing, so I won’t have anything else to do. And we haven’t made much progress with the neighbors,” he points out.

He’s right, but still.

You hesitate. You don’t have any exciting plans either, and people might be more likely to be home during the day on a weekend…

“All right. Let’s do it.” 

Marcus looks confused. 

“I’ll come with you to interview some neighbors this weekend. It’s a good idea,” you clarify.

“Oh, I wasn’t suggesting that you had to come with me,” Marcus says hastily. “Just that..I don’t mind, and, you know, I’m not doing anything else.” He shrugs again, looking away.

“I know. I’m saying that I don’t mind either, and you’re right that we need to interview the neighbors. They might be home on a weekend. We can get a feel for the neighborhood.”

His mouth opens and shuts. Marcus hesitates, like he thinks he should argue but can’t think of anything convincing. He settles on a grateful smile. “Okay.”

--

It’s a sunny day. The sky is clear, and you have a great view from the top of the hill, which is, naturally, where the mansion sits.

It’s not a very tall hill, but it’s enough of a slope that one could easily feel superior looking down from atop it. The residents of the houses below would be unable to avoid seeing the mansion whenever they looked up. The old New England houses echo the style of the mansion, albeit on a smaller scale- stately, grand and yet sort of homey at once. Highlights include spires topped with weathervanes featuring quirky animals and turrets with children’s drawings taped in the windows.

The air smells of greenery- all the hedges in the garden, probably. And something else; the odd smoky whiff of a weekend barbeque, interspersed with something…sweeter. Mom with oven mitts inside while Dad lights the charcoal outside. Apple pie America, indeed.

You survey the suburbia laid out below. You and Marcus agreed to meet at the mansion and strike out on foot from there, and now you’re deciding on a plan of attack.

“I say we canvas this street,” he’s saying, pointing to the uppermost houses, “maybe the next one, and see what the vibe is like from there.”

“What the vibe is like?” you repeat, amused. “Did you pick that up from Missy?”

Marcus coughs and shuffles a bit. “Did I use it right?” he asks, sheepish behind his glasses. The normal ones today- the round lenses made him seem sweet and trustworthy. 

It’s impossible not to laugh. “Technically, I guess. Come on then, hip guy.”

The hill isn’t very wide, or steep. These streets make up just one small subdivision venturing up into the woods, branching off the two-lane highway. There are others further along, clustered more densely closer to the town. The houses here are arrayed like a waterfall, with the mansion as its source.

The top street, in fact, is only four houses long. The first two are uneventful. One man answers the door with barbeque tongs in hand, his New Balance sneakers gleaming as white as his smile. He offers you and Marcus burgers to go, which you politely decline. You glimpse a woman coming up behind him as the door closes; her face is as stiff as her husband’s was welcoming. Interesting.

Things get even more interesting at the third house. 

“Oh, you’ll want to talk to the neighbor if you’re looking into Ursula.” The young person on the threshold nods their head to the only house you haven’t been to. “She can go on about her for hours, especially if you mention the pie.” They roll their eyes in a long-suffering expression.

You and Marcus exchange a look. “The pie?” Marcus slowly starts to reach for the small notebook he keeps in his jacket pocket.

“Yeah. Ursula liked to bake. Won the county fair pie competitions almost every year. Winter and summer, even after they made it anonymous and started rotating the judges.”

The neighbor and resident of the fourth house introduces herself as Olivia Tate. A woman with a somewhat jowly resemblance to a bulldog, she nearly starts slavering when your questions turn to Ursula’s pies. Her kitchen is the source of the sweet smell you caught from the top of the hill- a picture-perfect, lattice-topped pie bakes in the oven, which, Olivia laments, you could have sampled if you’d arrived half an hour later. 

Her jaw clenches at your implications about Ursula’s baking. “I’ve been baking pies 30, 40 years, and I’ve never had anything taste like hers. That’s the real mystery- what she puts in them!”

Her voice pitches higher the more you probe about Ursula and her pies, and the fledgling business around them she had apparently just started.

At the end of the street, Marcus jots hurriedly in his notebook, noting everything you had learned at Olivia’s house. When he’s done, you turn your head toward the top of the hill. “Should we go back to the mansion and have a closer look around the kitchen? This is the first we’ve heard of the pie business. It could be a fresh perspective.”

The mansion’s main kitchen is an enormous, envy-inducing affair. A stunning tile backsplash, an island bigger than your kitchen table, and a stove nearly as big as the island. At first glance, the single knife block and magnetic rack above it appear perfectly in order- there’s nothing to indicate the volume of knives the department had found stashed in the rest of the house, some of them nearly the size of machetes.

With fresh motivation, you start opening cabinets, nudging aside canned goods and tubs of flour. You and Marcus have hardly begun, however, when a thumping gait sounds from within the house, clearly getting closer. You exchange an alarmed glance.

A white-haired, wide-shouldered figure swings open the door. Mud flakes off the galoshes on his feet. Long gardening gloves sheath his hands. The man stands still for a long moment, silently measuring you.

“May I ask what you’re doing in Boulton house?” His voice is coarse with age, but his tone is unmistakably flat.

--

After being unceremoniously removed from the mansion, you stand by your patrol car, fuming. “Can you believe that guy? We’re investigating a crime scene. You can’t tell me he doesn’t know something.”

The groundskeeper had, of course been interviewed straightaway upon the breaking of the case. He hadn’t had much useful to say, and you’d released him thinking that you’d try again once you had more context in which to question him. But for him to claim now that your searching was out of bounds..!

“Probably. But he is within his rights to kick us out.” Marcus watches you cautiously. 

Leaning against your car, you face the street below, both lost in your own thoughts. From this height you have an unobstructed view of Olivia Tate’s house. It’s close enough, you realize, to make out her silhouette bobbing at a window, presumably rolling out her umpteenth pie crust. 

Marcus seems to realize it too. Gesturing to the window, he starts speaking again as if you’d been mid-conversation. “So these women could have easily watched each other from their kitchens while they baked. I bet on a good day you could even smell the pies from the other house. Every year they compete at the county fairs, and their rivalry gets worse. One day the neighbor snaps?” His eyebrows lift.

“A little unlikely,” you say. “Since there’s a clear view down the drive, she’d have to come at night, or by some secret back way. And she’s barely younger than the grandma.”

“True. But that means they’d be at even odds,” Marcus points out.

You concede that it’s technically a viable theory.

Glancing around, you indicate for Marcus to get in your car. 

An anticipatory silence grows while you consider your words, longer and louder until it’s drowned out only by the metallic creaking of the car itself. Marcus clenches his hands into fists to stop their fidgeting. 

“So,” you finally say. “We have to come back, right? Investigate this place properly.”

Marcus exhales. He looks pensive. “Yes. But how?”

“Look, I don’t like it, but I think we’ll have to do this slightly…off-books.”

You make a plan. By day, you’d return and continue to examine the inhabited portions of the house with the rest of the team. But by night…

“We can’t ignore the possibility that our culprit is using the closed-off parts of the house. It’s a perfect excuse- ‘nobody goes there, it’s falling down, it’s dangerous’. We can’t risk not searching it.”

You and Marcus agree to meet back at the mansion in a few nights- long enough for the groundskeeper to relax his guard.

--

On what little hill rises above the mansion, there’s an old hiking viewpoint jutting out of the forest. Although you’re sure people still use it for hiking during the day, by night, well…there was enough sniggering and elbow jabbing amongst your townie colleagues for you to figure out what it was used for at night.

It’s about a half hour hike from the viewpoint to the mansion. You and Marcus will be starting your nighttime searching from there, since parking or walking from anywhere else would get you spotted. 

You sit in the passenger seat of Marcus’s car while he drives. It smells like him, clean and masculine- probably nothing more than a combination of his laundry detergent and a no-nonsense deodorant, yet in such confined quarters it makes you light-headed the longer you sit in it. To distract yourself, you take a discreet look around. 

There’s not much to see. No trash or trinkets, just a road atlas in the pocket on the back of the driver’s seat. Except- sticking out from under the backseat is the crinkled corner of a magazine cover emblazoned with pink and yellow headlines and, just visible, the swoop of a youthful hairdo. The evidence of Marcus’s daughter makes you smile.

Gravel crunches under the tires as Marcus turns into the lot. His headlights reveal another car on the far side, with condensation glimmering on its windows.

“Didn’t expect to find anyone else doing night hiking,” Marcus mutters.

He continues his slow route toward the other car, to your mounting horror. “Don’t park next to them!” you hiss.

“What? Why?” Marcus’s question is utterly guileless. But he obeys, turning the car smoothly and ending up parking roughly in the center of the line of spots. 

You sigh. “I mean first of all, parking right next to the only other car in an empty lot, at night? That’s weird. Second of all, those aren’t night hikers.”

“Then what…” Marcus turns his furrowed brow toward the other car. Under the still moonlight, he finally seems to put all the pieces together- the short drive from town, the isolated location, the car’s fogged up windows. “...Oh.”

You can’t help but laugh at Marcus’s mortified expression. His full lips turn down, his cheeks darkening with a blush. “Well…now what do we do?”

“Let’s just go. The path is on this side, anyway.” You nod your head toward the end of the viewpoint that’s not currently occupied.

You and Marcus gather your small packs and exit the car. The slam of the door is like a shout in the silence and he winces, darting glances to the other car all the while. You cough to cover your laughter. “Great conditions for some night hiking, right?” You say loudly.

Marcus looks at you, startled. You widen your eyes at him meaningfully. “Oh, yeah,” he says, catching on. “Sure is.”

You grin. “Come on, this way.” You lead your partner away from the lot and the scene of his embarrassment. 

Your hike is quiet. These trails are unfamiliar to both of you, especially in the dark, but you keep your headlamps on low, wary of being spotted- more so the larger the mansion looms through the trees. 

A low brick wall marks the edge of the property. There’s no gate nearby that you can see, but it’s an easy task to pull yourself over it- probably the least risky activity you’ll undertake tonight.  

The gardens are slightly too overgrown to pretend you’re on a romantic nighttime stroll. “This reminds me of a corn maze; you know, the kind you get at pumpkin patches in the fall,” Marcus says, low and hushed. 

It’s an apt comparison. Tidily partitioned squares of greenery, once neatly groomed, had sprouted out of control, spilling onto the paths and obstructing your view. Wire towers for climbing vines now resemble buildings in an apocalypse movie- so thickly smothered with vines that their original structures are no longer visible, their trailing tendrils now falling to sway in your faces as you pass.

“Ha, I see what you mean. I’m not sure that makes it more or less creepy.” Another thought makes you shiver. “As long as nobody with a chainsaw starts running after us,” you mutter.

Marcus lets out an unexpected, loud bark of laughter. You look at him in astonishment, and he slaps a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, it’s just...” He clears his throat. “If you remind me of this later I’ll tell you why that was funny.”

At the mansion’s back entrance, you glance around quickly, then let yourselves in with the key. Safely inside, you stand in silence for several moments. 

“Nobody’s here,” Marcus whispers.

The house is silent, and dark. Without any neighbors, there are minimal streetlamps to provide light from outside. Most of the windows are framed by heavy, ornate curtains as well, blocking what meager moonlight falls in. Only the beams of your headlamps illuminate the dark wood floors and wall panelings.

You make your way toward a door at the end of the hall, stepping quietly, just in case. “How far do your powers reach?” you ask Marcus. “Like, you’re definitely sure there’s no one in this whole house?”

It’s slightly difficult to look at Marcus without blinding him with your headlamp. If you twist your neck and look sideways, you can make out the thoughtful press of his lips. 

“I can sense the rough outline and structure of the house thanks to all the little metal things- nails, window fittings, doorknobs. Any metal object within those bounds, I can reach. But sensing blood is tricky to begin with. It’s such a tiny amount of iron, in such a weird form…I can sense your blood just fine, because you’re right next to me. Somebody across the room would be no problem, likely even somebody in the next room, but across a whole house?” Marcus shakes his head. “Blood moves, so that tends to give it away. That sense of flow is primarily what I look for. But to answer your question…” Marcus does the same sort of neck twist to look at you. Beneath the white light emanating from his forehead, his face is serious. “I can’t be one hundred percent sure this place is empty.”

Interesting, if not entirely reassuring. “Well, I guess keep your eyes open then. Or not your eyes, but your..senses? You know what I mean.”

“I think the official term is ‘spidey sense’,” Marcus quips.

You laugh at that, and it eases the tension that had crept up alongside you like mist in a haunted house.

It doesn’t take long to reach your goal. The innocuous door looks like all the rest that line the hall- it could just as likely hold a fancy sitting room as a dilapidated once-home. 

You adjust your headlamp determinedly. “Ready?”

“Lead the way, Boss.” There’s a playful quirk to Marcus’s lips as he repeats his words from the day you first met.

You snort, ignoring an odd little flutter in your belly. “Sure, ladies first, they say, step right up to the dangerous door…”

“You can tell me to go first, if you want,” Marcus suggests. “Perks of being the boss.”

“Am I your boss?”

You’re stalling, is what you are. But it is something you’ve wondered. If push came to shove, would Marcus have to obey you?

“I could probably go over your head if I felt it was necessary,” Marcus admits. “But practically, we’re supposed to follow local jurisdiction. Supplement your abilities, not..take over.”

He meets your gaze. “I’m not worried about questioning your orders.”

Before you can react, Marcus continues cheerfully, “You’re stalling, Boss. Come on.” He lifts his hand, and the door swings open.

You brace yourself; for what, you’re not sure. But all that happens is a gust of dusty air hits you, and you have to stifle a sneeze. 

It’s nearly pitch-black. Marcus lifts his hand higher, and a tinny screech comes from across the room, where metal rings scrape against a curtain rod, dragging open a tall set of drapes. There’s still not much light, but the room now appears more gray than black.

The carpet runner beneath your feet is thick with dust, its pattern blurred. The room you’ve entered looks like it was indeed once a sitting room or living room of some kind. Dust covers in the shape of couches squat around a table on the far side of the room. Other furniture against the walls has also been covered. In the gray darkness, lit only by the swinging beams of your headlamps, it’s impossible not to think of ghosts and horror stories. 

“Do you sense anything?” you whisper to Marcus.

He lowers his hand. “No. No one hiding, and a normal amount of metal for an old living room.”

You let out a tense breath. “I’ll admit, this is creepier than I thought it would be.”

Marcus laughs softly. “Tell me about it. I don’t even like scary movies.”

It’s reassuring, at least, to have Marcus’s powers on your side. You tell yourself firmly that nothing bad can happen with him around, and it mostly quiets the part of your brain dwelling on every zombie movie you’ve ever seen. Mostly.

You set to searching the room. You pull off dust covers and lift cushions, but all you get for your troubles are grimy hands and some disgruntled spiders. 

The next room is more of the same, only there’s even less to search. The open space contains little more than an ornate fireplace and a bar built into one end of the room. You stand in the center and spin slowly, your hands on your hips. “Are we missing something?”

“It’s here.” Marcus is standing at a section of wall blank except for squares of wood molding. 

“Huh?”

He reaches up and pushes a small section of the molding. It clicks, and the whole portion of wall slides sideways like a door. 

“Whoa!” You hurry over, the solid blackness of the opening sucking up your headlamp’s beam until you get closer.

“A servants’ kitchen, maybe,” Marcus says. “I’ve been doing some research on the history of this house, and other houses from the same period.”

The disused kitchen is barely the size of a closet and smells faintly of mildew. You follow Marcus, your mind turning. “A big old house like this…it’s got to have like, secret passages, right? Real ones, I mean, not just servant shortcuts like this.”

Marcus’s face wears a thoughtful grimace. “More likely than not. I already found one in the central dining room.”

“Wait, you have?” This is the first you’ve heard of it.

“It wasn’t anything dramatic. Just a passage to the kitchen, a shortcut for staff. The housekeeper was still showing us around when I found it, so she told us. She didn’t look too happy about it thought…I bet she knows where they all are.” Marcus trails off in thought.

“Shouldn’t you be able to sense them?” you ask.

“Well…yes and no.” Marcus looks vaguely uncomfortable. “House walls have metal in them anyway- all the nails and whatnot- and sometimes construction companies do weird things, so it can be tricky to sense when there’s metal out of place. That goes double for old places like this, where all sorts of random stuff has been stuck in the walls over the years. I tried pulling on something the very first day and nearly brought down that massive portrait over the fireplace- you know the one of the guy with the-” he makes a gesture near his face. “Turns out I was pulling on some convoluted hanging system.”

Marcus rolls his eyes, eloquently expressing his frustration with the entire situation. You wonder if the blueprints to house are accessible somewhere. They’d be in the city planning archives, surely…

As you step back through the doorway, you hear a click. The sliding door rumbles toward you with surprising speed, and you freeze for a split second before your muscles tense to leap out of the way-

But before you can, a strong grip encircles your wrist, and you’re yanked back and held tight against a wide, solid mass. The mass is warm, and expanding and deflating rapidly, and nearly crushing you to it with the steel strength of his arms. 

The door thuds closed with a force that makes you flinch. The thin beams of your headlamps seem insubstantial against the sudden near-complete darkness. 

You twist your neck to look at Marcus, your eyes wide with surprise. He does the same to look at you. His hold and the angle of your heads puts your faces only inches apart- far closer than either of you anticipated. 

He releases you immediately, taking a step back for good measure. “Sorry. It was a reflex.” One hand comes up to rub the back of his neck.

The warmth of him still clings to you. “I do have several years on the force under my belt,” you point out mildly. You reach out and squeeze his arm. “But thank you.”

You turn back to the door. The flat, featureless door that looked remarkably wall-like again. 

“Um,” you say. “Can you get us out?”

Marcus chuckles. “Now that I know it’s there…” There’s a click and a rumble, and the wall slides aside again. “Yes.”

Gray light pours in, so dark before but like sunlight after being trapped in the windowless kitchen. You breathe deeply of the air in the open room.

“I think that’s enough for tonight.”

Thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist

[jichanxo]

Talk about Higashi my eternal bbygirl

first impression: okay i can't remember my REAL first impression (i.e. when i first ever laid eyes on him) BUT he was my first favourite judgment character, before lost judgment happened. he's still really really great. love you higashi.

impression now: almost the same but he's just gone down the rankings in terms of favourites. he's still pookie wonderful handsome cute etc

favourite moment: when the group are interrogating yui mamiya and after hearing about kuwana's plan he goes "damn i'm kinda rooting for this guy" LMAO. higashi kaito files apron is also good. also forklift driving. and also him realising that the pretty lady he saved was saori and getting mad that yagami isn't picking up her call right away. sorry it's just a lot of Little Moments yknow

idea for a story: literally nobody cares but i would love to put higashi in the same room as kuwana. watch him go from "oh this guy hates yagami? maybe this guy will get me" and then it slowly dawns on him that no. no this guy is worse. higashi might "hate" yagami but he does actually truly hate kuwana. this idea will never not be hilarious to me

unpopular opinion: his design is underrated as HELL the sunglasses + earring combo is a deadly combination 🔥 he looks cooler and more yakuza-like than a bunch of mainline yakuza characters without being tacky. prescription sunglasses king. kissing him

favourite relationship: seeing him bickering with yagami has really grown on me a lot lately… funny of them

favourite headcanon: he's well liked by the kids at the arcade (though initially seems intimidating) and a great boss ❤ and of course he has a forklift license

[ageofhearingloss]

Who Are You Now Pt. 3 ⎮Danny Wagner x Reader

A/N: hiiii my lovey doves! i just wanted to say a huge gimongous thank you for all of the recent love on this series; it means way more than you could ever possibly know and you all are so near and dear to my heart!! part 3 is here, finally! there's still quite a lot of angst, but this time there's more gratification ;) this chapter contains explicit sexual content so GO AWAY if you are a minor! please! (also there's a silly little jab at king dave welcsh but don't get it twisted, i love him and ttwf more than life itself so it's all in good fun)

this very special chapter is dedicated to a very special POPPY!!! americas sweetheart @gold-mines-melting may or may not make an appearance in this part, you're just gonna have to read to find out!

(pssst, read part 2 first)

pairing: danny wagner x female!reader

warnings: angst, alcohol consumption, brief mentions of smoking, 18+ GRAPHIC SEXUAL CONTENT, minors DNI!! shoo shoo!! unprotected sex (please be safe, yall!), language, dirty talk, choking and a little breath play, fingering (fem receiving), slight degradation, spitting, some playful hitting, and i thiiiink that's it but please please please tell me if i forgot something

word count: ~11k (so sorry)

summary: you and your best friend have just moved to a new city and spontaneously meet a group of handsome young strangers during a night out. you hit it off with one of them in particular, but are left wondering if you are just friends or if there’s something more on the horizon.

The passage of time was completely lost to you as you sat atop a stool at your kitchen island. How long had you been sitting there? Minutes? Hours? Right now, your brain only knew two things: Danny had kissed you, and he left you without saying a word. Your heart took up residence in your stomach and your palms were slick with sweat. Questions running marathons through your mind. Not being able to complete one thought before a new, louder one interrupted. 

This is exactly what I wanted, so why am I freaking out?

You cradled your head in your hands as you rested your elbows on the cool countertop, digging your palms into your eye-sockets as you tried desperately to settle the butterflies flitting around your gut. The kiss had been showstopping, akin to ones you watched on the television when you were younger causing you to dream of the love you would have once you were all grown up. Thinking about his fingers running through your hair, breath warm against your mouth, it sent you tumbling further into the pit of anxiety-induced nausea. 

You vaguely heard the front door open and slam, knowing Natalie and Jake were returning with breakfast in tow, but you couldn’t bring yourself to greet them with your usual cheery persona.

“Y/n!” Natalie sang from the entryway, “Did you know Jake wears prescription sunglasses? That’s why he wears them inside! I always thought he was just a prick-”

“Nat, that’s a trade secret!” he called after her, his tone full of scolding sarcasm.

They bumbled into the kitchen, Jake carrying a tray of four coffees (one for Dan if he still happened to be at your place), Nat clutching a giant brown paper bag filled with bagels, the early morning excitement filling the air until her eyes landed on you. 

“Oh, shit.” Jake watched her halt in the middle of the kitchen, her mood falling immediately, as he slowly shifted his eyes from her to where you sat.

“Damn…”

You lifted your head to take them both in, face flushed and eyes wide with panic.

“Honey, what happened?” Nat set the bagels onto the island in front of her, shifting to take the coffee from Jake’s clutches before climbing into the bar stool next to you. She began rubbing reassuring circles into your back as you let your head fall into your hands once more, shooting her eyes between Jake and the stairs, a silent request for him to give you two some privacy. He nodded his understanding, giving you a quick sympathetic glance that you were unaware of. 

“I’m, uh, gonna go take a shower,” he announced. “Holler if you need me.”

The stair creaked underneath his feet, indication that he was no longer in the room and with that, you lifted your head once again to meet Nat’s gaze. 

“That bad, huh?”

“Not even!” Your arms shot up in exclamation, causing her hand to retreat from your back. “I mean, I don’t even know!”

She waited patiently for further explanation. 

“Nat… he fucking kissed me.”

A giant smile of delight made its way to her face as she clapped her hands together, but it was lost all too soon when she realized there was no chance of you celebrating alongside her.

“Okay… so why is this a bad thing? Isn’t this what you wanted?”

You shifted on your stool to directly face her and let a controlled sigh leave your lungs. The first steady breath you’ve managed since the entryway fiasco. 

“Of course it’s what I want, it’s just… We were gonna talk and then he had to go to work so there was no time and-” you closed your eyes in an attempt to unscramble your thoughts, “He kissed me and then just left without saying a single thing.”

“He left?”

You nodded, explaining the whole scenario to your best friend. She listened intently, asking appropriate questions here and there, offering her sage wisdom to help talk you through it. She advised that even though the ball is technically still in his court, that perhaps you should take initiative and be the one to reach out to him. “If you don’t, who knows how much longer you’ll be waiting. Lord knows he’s made you wait long enough.” Of course, she was right. But your stomach churned at the thought of now having to confront the kiss he bestowed upon you on top of the conversation you were already planning to have. 

The conversation you two were having had drifted to a completely separate topic; you and Nat were able to talk about anything and everything. You were just beginning to feel better, the latte beginning to wake you up from your mostly sleepless night, as your phone began vibrating on the counter next to the stove. You leaped off your stool instantaneously and grabbed your phone to check the caller ID.

Daniel.

“Oh fuck,” you whispered, “it’s Dan. What the fuck do I do?”

“Answer it! Maybe he wants to talk!”

Your hand was shaking, palms impossibly sweatier than they had been before as you swiped a finger across the screen.

“Hey, Dan-”

“Hey angel, I don’t have a ton of time, I’m just pulling up to the shop-”

“Angel?” You blinked. 

You were met with silence from the other end.

“Sorry... I- I just forgot to mention earlier that tonight is Dave’s release show for the band's EP. We’re all on the guest list, including Nat. I’ll send you money for an Uber, and text you the address of the venue once I get inside the shop. Just meet us there at 7.”

You couldn’t believe these were the words that were being spoken to you. Was this not the man who had slammed you against the wall and devoured you not even an hour ago? 

“Uh, yeah okay. That sounds good. Anything specific I should wear?” The boys very frequently collaborated on their outfits when you all went out together, and more often than not, you and Nat were the outliers of whatever vibe they were trying to go for that night.

“You look good in anything, so I’m sure whatever you pick out will be great.”

Your brain was cursing your heart as you tried to fight the smile creeping across your face.

“I gotta run though, I’m already a little late. I’ll see you later tonight! Bye, y/n.”

Before you could say your goodbye in its entirety, the line disconnected. You pulled your phone away from your ear, mouth slightly agape as you cartoonishly blinked at Natalie, unable to form words for a couple moments.

“Looks like we’re going to a show tonight.”

~~~~~~

“So he really didn’t mention the kiss?” Nat called from the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her effortlessly beachy waves.

“Not a peep.”

Sat in front of your vanity in your bedroom, you were finalizing your look, too. Your own hair sat high atop your head in a loose, messy bun, not having it in you to be bothered to do something special with it. You pulled out a few tendrils to frame your face, and then applied a quick coat of mascara. The look for tonight was minimal; you knew you’d be out late, and you wanted to save your future self from the trouble of trying to scrub off a full face of makeup at 4am. 

Getting ready to go out was a therapeutic experience for you and Nat; the two of you would even go far enough to say that it was more fun than the night out itself. A cheap beer was sweating rings onto the top of your vanity, and even though the music was blasting through the halls of your apartment, you could still hear Nat singing to herself from the bathroom. You had nearly forgotten the stress you had been under only hours prior, and you were eternally grateful. After all, tonight was a big night for Dave and his buddies, and you wanted to be a supportive friend. That wouldn’t be possible if your head was drowning in thoughts of Daniel. 

“You sure this looks okay?” 

Nat appeared in the doorway of your bedroom, hair cascading over her shoulders and down her back in long, loose tendrils. She wore a black denim dress that was perfect for any occasion paired with her trusty set of Doc Martens. You turned your body to look her way, already nodding enthusiastically before your gaze fully fell on her. After volleying a variety of comments back and forth, ensuring that the other looked great and didn’t need to change, you stood from the vanity and smoothed your dress. You decided on a deep red slip dress; it was loose and didn’t cling to your curves, but left your arms and legs exposed; you didn’t know if dancing would be a part of the night's festivities, but you wanted to wear something that’d be appropriate, just in case. 

Walking over to your closet, you pulled on an old pair of tall, beat up cowboy boots. The mockery never ceased whenever you wore them, but you’d be damned if you weren’t going to seize the opportunity now that you lived in a climate where they were part of everyday attire. Nat peeked into the closet as you slid them on, snickering before you threw her a warning glare, shrugging a simple bag over your shoulder. 

“Ready?” you questioned.

She beamed, “Ready. The Uber’s gonna be here in a couple minutes.”

~~~~~~

You’d be lying if you said that your nerves hadn’t made their reappearance on the drive to the concert. You had kept a short leash on your brain, not allowing it to wander too far, but now you were worried about seeing Dan after what happened this morning; would he acknowledge it? Ignore it? Worst of all, was he going to act weird? Thankfully, you ran out of time to let yourself begin to question how the night would unfold as the car screeched to a halt at the curb in front of the venue, seeing that your four men, and a mystery woman, were waiting patiently for you outside of the front doors. You studied the woman briefly before getting out of the car; she was stunningly beautiful, coffee-colored hair and piercing green eyes, her features nearly feline. She was chatting away with the twins, bubbly, outspoken, and invested in the conversation with genuine interest.

She has that same warming smile Josh has.

Adjusting the silk of your dress, you climbed out of the car, taking a deep breath before stepping to the side to leave enough room for Natalie to get out. It was Sam who recognized your presence first, that goofy grin of his displayed on his face as he began sauntering over to you, causing his brothers to turn and follow suit.

“Oh mama, you look great!” Josh exclaimed once he was in front of you, grabbing your hand while lifting his arm up to give you a little twirl. Every ounce of stress and anxiety you were feeling in the car instantly seeped away from your muscles once you stood in front of your friends. Jake had immediately flung his arm around Nat’s waist to pull her in for a quick kiss, and after you said hi to him and Sam and were out of Josh’s clutches, you let yourself finally look at Dan. His eyes were twinkling and smile shining bright, exactly how you always remembered him from the very first night you met. He sidestepped around Josh and pulled you into a tight hug, hands slightly bunching the material of your dress around your waist. Breathing in the musky scent of him helped focus your thoughts, reminding you that you had nothing to worry about. After all, he was one of your closest friends, and it’d take more than a kiss to mess that up. You’d decided that tonight would not be the appropriate time to talk about what transpired that morning, and with that you were determined to have a good time. If Daniel wanted to bring up the kiss, so be it, but you did not want to ruin an otherwise celebratory night with a conversation that had the potential to end in catastrophe.

Once you pulled out of his arms, you made your way over to meet the girl that was at Josh’s side. She was already beaming at you, and you couldn’t help but return it, finding that not only her smile was similar to Josh’s, but she had an equally inviting aura. Josh was speaking before you had the chance to let words fly.

“Y/n! I want you to meet someone-” he was interrupted by a playful nudge to his shoulder, the girl chuckling beside him.

“Ever the gentleman,” she grinned as she stuck her hand out past him. “I’m Poppy.”

You clasped her hand between yours without a second thought, “I’m y/n.” You shook it gently before playfully asking, “So you’re with Josh?”

“That’s right, mama,” Josh cut in, throwing his arm around her shoulder and placing a chaste kiss to her temple, “you snooze, you lose.” You rolled your eyes and laughed at his comment as he punctuated his words with a wink.

“Where’s he been hiding you away all this time?” You returned your attention back to Poppy who remained snug under his arm. She explained that she and Josh have known each other since high school, but had both gone separate ways for college only to have found each other again in the city of music. You learned she was also a musician, traveling around with numerous bands whenever any of them needed a resident saxophonist. “I just got back from a long stretch of touring a couple days ago,” she nodded thoughtfully, “I love it, but I am so happy to be home. Josh has told me a lot about all of you and I’m excited to finally meet everybody for myself.”

Greetings began to die down, Natalie and Poppy immediately bonding over their affinity for the twins, and soon you were being corralled inside by an anxious Daniel who informed you the show would be starting momentarily. 

The venue was stunning and cozy; an inviting environment that hosted the most talented up-and-coming musicians Nashville had to offer. Your little posse found a comfortable patch of standing room to the left of the stage, Sam insisting that you all didn’t drift too far from the bar (“I really hate spilling my beer on myself when I try to get back to my spot”).

The house lights faded to black just a minute later. Dan stood close to your side, whispering to you the names of the band members as they made their way on stage. Of course you knew Dave, but he identified Alex as the guitarist, Chris on drums, and Kyle playing the bass. You nodded your understanding, trying to focus on the words he was saying rather than the sensation of his breath hot against the shell of your ear; it was going to be a very long night if you couldn’t get your emotions under control. But instead of trying to stuff your feelings down like you had been for months now, you let yourself be distracted by Dave’s voice, losing yourself to the music. 

~~~~~~

He was mesmerized by the way you moved. He’s watched you dance plenty of times before, but the way your body moved always had the ability to steal the air clean from his lungs. The way you let your eyes fall closed and the sway of your hips. How your dress would ride up ever so slightly whenever you lifted your arms. The lights faintly glittering off the sheen of the gloss that painted your lips. The lips that he had finally pressed his own to that morning. 

The guilt he felt for ignoring the show was only slight; he was too entranced by you, and he could not stop from slotting an arm around your waist, letting himself sway along with you. When you felt his firm hold around you, you fluttered your eyes open and lifted your chin to give him a smile that set his skin aflame. The tilt of your lips made him realize that he would level the earth for just a chance to experience that smile again, and knowing that he was the recipient of such angelic beauty made his heart jump to his throat. He retreated his hand only to turn his attention to your hair, to the messy bun adorning it. Selfishly, he wanted to see the way your waves danced down your back and how they would sway in time with your movements, so with one fluid motion, he gently pulled the elastic from your hair, letting it fall around your shoulders before he smoothed it out, letting pieces fall to frame your face. 

“What’d you do that for?” You questioned with raised eyebrows, just loud enough for him to hear above the music.

Ever quick on his feet, Danny began gathering his own hair high atop his head, securing it with the tie that he had taken from you, “I was getting warm, the hair had to go up.” 

A smirk played on your lips, somehow seeing right through his excuse, but let him off the hook as you grabbed his arm, using it as leverage to reach up and whisper in his ear, “So, these guys are essentially a 1975 tribute band?”

You were driving him mad. The scent of your woodsy cologne caused the hair on his arms to stand up on end, throat bobbing as he leaned down to retort, “Don’t tell Dave that, it’d go straight to his head.”

Your head lulled back with the sound of a laugh, eyes crinkling at the corners as you let go of Dan's arm, returning your attention to the band as another song climbed to its peak.

With great effort, he finally peeled himself away to glance around at the others in the audience and just as he suspected, he wasn’t the only one enamored with you. He caught the eyes of those who were ogling a little too much, giving them a territorial glare that caused them to embarrassingly return their gaze forward. As much as he loved to show you off, you were his, whether you knew so or not. The way he was indulging in the sight of you felt nearly sinful, but he refused to let the moment go to waste and took inventory of every lock of hair, every freckle, every dimple, committing it all to memory. 

Dave’s voice rang in his ears as he returned his attention to the stage,

Take time to figure it out, I love you when I’m honest…

~~~~~~

“Oh my god, y/n! Natalie!” Dave called as he rushed into the mostly vacant house of the venue, the rest of the band trailing hot on his heels. “I’m so happy you guys could make it!” He pulled you two into a simultaneous hug, his hair and chest damp with the sweat he shed on stage. 

“You guys were incredible, congrats on the release!” Natalie beamed, your group adding their agreements and affirmations alongside her. 

Danny had moved to stand beside you, casually throwing his arm around your shoulders like he had done countless times before as you all chattered in excitement together. Sam and Kyle had drifted to get one more drink, Sam animatedly asking the bassist about some of the riffs he played on stage. At this point in the night, you were completely relaxed, content to be with your friends, old and new, and celebrating such a great accomplishment together.

“Oh shit, let me introduce you guys, sorry,” Dave said in a hurry, gathering up Alex and Chris, leaving Kyle in Sam's clutches. He introduced you to them, you eagerly shaking their hands and making small talk. Chris kept catching your eye, his smile gleaming in the light reflecting off of it. Alex was occupied talking to Poppy and Natalie, asking them questions about where they were from and what music they were into, as Chris directed his attention back to you and Dan, still snug at your side. 

“You two look good together,” he grinned at you, “I didn’t know Dan was seeing anybody.”

A blush crept to your cheeks but before you could think of a response, Dan was already on it.

“I’m not,” he replied flatly. “We’re just friends.”

What?

You thought you were blacking out considering how quiet it suddenly got around you, but rather your friends had stopped their conversations once they heard those words leave Daniel’s mouth. Sure, neither of you had any time to talk about what you meant to each other, and saying that you were just friends saved everyone involved from a long, awkward explanation, but he could have just left it that you two were not a couple. 

There was a period of charged silence, as if your thoughts were painted above your head in bright, neon lettering for all to read. That familiar rush of rage flooded your system, the feeling that you had tried so hard to quell during your movie night the evening prior. You were back to square one; you needed to talk to Danny. The show was over. You’d find a quiet place in the bar where you all were headed to finally say your piece. Glancing down at your shoes, you could feel their eyes on you. Could feel the weight of words unsaid. But thankfully, Chris soon rolled off Dan’s words with a nonchalant “Oh, my bad. Well maybe you two should be.” He waved off the comment dismissively and joined the rest of the group standing behind you two; it was clear the conversation had died right then and there and it was time to head to the “real party,” as Jake called it. 

The group divided up as you headed to the bar; you insisted that you, Natalie, Poppy, and Josh shared a ride while the others found their own way there. Josh put up no fight leaving his brothers, explaining that he hardly got a second away from them anyways. You needed a slight reprieve from everyone, knowing that these three were the ones who would not contribute more to the irritation that was present in your mood. Nat kept close to your side; she knew better than to mention what had been said, but offered her comfort in the source of her presence, something that soothed you no matter what. You assumed Josh had filled Poppy in, for she gave you a sympathetic smile that suggested she knew all too well what you were feeling. You made a mental note to have a stern talk with Josh later about if he ever fucked anything up with Poppy, you’d mount him over your fireplace. 

You sat in the front seat of the car, letting the other three babble away as you glared out the window, eyes chasing the passing cars. If you were honest with yourself, you wanted to go home. It seemed like impending doom awaited you at the bar, and you weren’t sure if you were prepared to handle it. But you knew the option of making a swift exit was long gone, so you decided that you’d attempt to let a couple drinks melt away your nerves. If not, they’d at least serve as liquid courage for you to face your fears. 

“You gonna stay here all night, or come with us?” Josh clapped his hand on your arm, pulling you from your thoughts with a knowing smile as you glanced at him over your shoulder. You nodded, your smile not reaching your eyes, and then turned to step out of the car, unsure about where your night was headed.

~~~~~~

Thankfully, the night had unfolded similarly to any other. You found yourself in a seedy bar surrounded by your favorite people, drinks flowing freely and conversation light and easy. The bar the band had chosen had a variety of games; dart boards lined the walls and one lone ping-pong table stood in the corner, highlighted by a flickering stained glass lamp hanging from the ceiling. Josh and Poppy had made their way over to it early in the night, their competitive streaks equally matched as you all watched a tournament unfold. They had remained there all night, heated words spewing back and forth and sweat dripping from their foreheads. The rest of you took turns refilling their drinks when one of you noticed they were low, all of you beyond amused by the unbelievable seriousness they both shared when it came to the tabletop sport. 

The other nine of you drifted towards one of the many dart boards, laughing and yelling more than throwing many darts. Sam had the worst aim any of you had ever seen, causing flowery insults to fly amongst the brothers. Everything felt great, normal even, except for the fact that Dan seemed to be avoiding you. He was conservative with his words, his touches, conversing with Dave and Sam much more than you, but tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.

At the beginning of the night, his lack of attention made your heart pang with a hint of sadness; now after a few drinks, it felt like a game. You rarely instigated; you thought these petty games were childish and never helped the issue at hand, but you couldn’t stop yourself tonight. He would talk to you, and you were determined to make sure of that. Your plan was simple: jealousy. 

You latched onto Chris for the night; he was charming, easy-going, and possessed a smile that lit up the whole room. The two of you hit it off swimmingly, finding out you had plenty in common with each other and feeling delighted in his company. You hated that your intention was double-edged; you did want to get to know Chris better, but you were also too aware of Daniel’s stare burning through the back of your head. 

It’s working.

To deepen the blow, you agreed to be on Chris’ team for darts, Danny looking confused since the two of you were always a pair when it came to teaming up against others. You answered his expression with a wink of your own, turning your attention back to Chris as he began his throws. You put on your best show, widening your eyes just a smidge, being a hint more bubbly and giggly, things that would fall unnoticed by the rest of the crowd but not by the one person you wanted to realize. 

Once your points hit zero, Chris landing a double and winning you both the game, you threw your arms around his neck excitedly, him twirling you around in celebration. Jake and Natalie cursed their loss as Chris returned you to your feet, Sam already picking teams for the next round, securing Dan for himself. 

“Actually, guys, I’m gonna step out for a smoke.” His voice was jarring, considering you’d hardly heard it all night. “Daniel, you hardly smoke,” Sam complained, knowing his so-called dart partner was a great throw. “Come with me, y/n.” You spun to see Dan standing close behind you, his expression undeniably serious as he tenderly grabbed you by your hand. He swiftly led you away from the group before you could object, only having a quick moment to throw Natalie a glance of confusion as you grew farther away, soon enveloped by the sea of other bar patrons.

~~~~~~

“Dan- Dan! What are you doing?”

“Just.. come on,” he said through gritted teeth, the gentle hand he had previously offered you now a vise-like grip wrapped around your wrist. 

You were on his heels heading through the boisterous crowd at the bar, and realized quickly that you were not heading towards the front door where you were told you’d be going. He had informed the group that you two were going out for a smoke, but with how he was holding you paired with the alarming speed he was ushering you through the crowd, you knew that was the last place you were going. 

Oh, he’s pissed. 

You’ve rarely seen Danny upset, but when you had, it was frightening. His eyes were burning, all playfulness and serenity stripped from his demeanor. Only dominant fury raged through his system, and that is exactly what you wanted. You smiled to yourself even though you knew you were in deep shit, never have been on the receiving end of his anger. Your plan of riling him up played out perfectly, but now the steam that you swore was radiating off of his head had you questioning otherwise. Did you push him too far?

He pulled you towards a set of stairs that led down to where the bathrooms were located and your stomach twisted. You hesitated slightly in defiance but was matched with a quick tug on your wrist, signifying that you needed to continue moving. With that, you gave up the fight, following him down the dimly lit staircase, nearly tripping over your own feet in the process. Landing at the bottom, you watched Dan frantically look down the hall, illuminated by dingy lights and neon signs, only to see that there were plenty of people in line for both single stall bathrooms. He cursed under his breath, hand still wrapped around your wrist, and hauled you past the lines of curious onlookers. His stare was unbelievably dark, all caramel drained from his irises. And it excited you beyond belief.

You knew what this looked like, the two of you running hand-in-hand to find a private place,  and thinking about it caused a pink flush to grace your cheeks, but beyond that, you couldn’t find it in you to care. The lingering effects of the alcohol (albeit you were feeling pretty sober by this point in the night), the adrenaline from the show, all of it made you more eager to be with him. You let your gaze fall onto his back, your hair falling slightly to shield your face from any bystanders as you raced past them. The end of the hallway veered right, and soon you were thankfully out of the line of sight from others. You couldn’t fight the faint smile that graced your lips as he pulled you to every doorway lining the hall, checking the door handles with the hand that wasn’t chained to you. Most were locked or marked “Employee Only,” but soon he found a supply closet that allowed him to enter. 

Dan yanked you into the closet causing you to stumble forward over your feet and by the time you caught your balance, he had already shut and locked the door from the inside. You stood in the center of the room, cramped and damp with the smell of wet mops and bleach. Switching on the light via the string hanging from the ceiling, you finally turned towards Dan who was now leaning his back against the locked door. 

You stared in silence at each other for what felt like minutes, your arms crossed over your chest as you watched his gaze never lighten. He was the picture of stoic beauty, even if his expression should have sent you running for the hills. 

As much as you were hoping for him to break the silence, you decided it was time to end your standoff. 

“So… what?”

“You know what, y/n, don’t play fucking dumb.”

This is going to be fun. 

“I really don’t know what you’re talking about, care to enlighten me?”

He shoved off the wall, stalking towards you with lion-like movements. His eyes hadn’t left yours since you entered the dim room, and usually this extended period of eye contact would make you shy away, but right now it was only contributing to the pool of wetness you could feel collecting between your thighs. 

“Why were you flirting with Chris?”

“Who said I was flirting?” He stood directly in front of you now, and you lifted your chin slightly in defiance as your eyes seared into his. “And why do you even care since we’re “just friends.””

He took one more step closer, pressing his torso against your crossed arms. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he started condescendingly, “You think I can’t tell when you’re flirting? When you’re all hot and bothered?” His eyes flickered to your lips as he spoke, wetting his own with his tongue. 

Watching his movements caused you to clench your thighs together in search of any hint of friction or relief, and even though you tried your hardest to be subtle, his eyes shot down to note your fidgeting. Only then did a lupin smirk appear on his face. 

He slowly dragged his eyes up your body, lingering on every curve, to meet your stare again, bringing a hand to grip your jaw as he tutted at you in disapproval. 

“You’ve been playing with me all night, haven’t you, angel?” His hand on your jaw tightened as he tilted your head back slightly, bringing his lips inches away from yours. 

He says that as if he hasn’t been playing with me for months. 

You dropped your arms away from your chest as you backed away out of his grip, your own face falling as you watched his eyes flit between yours in a hint of concern and confusion. His arrogant smirk was wiped clean off his face.

“You think I’m playing with you? Are you going to tell me what the hell you’ve been doing for the past couple months?” Your eyebrows shot up in question as your breath quickened. Yes, you were toying with him tonight, but only in retaliation for his actions towards you.

“I feel like I’ve been going crazy thinking about all the times you’ve led me to believe that this,” you motioned between your bodies, “that we were something more, but it’s always radio silence from you.” Your hands were balled into fists at your sides, tears threatening to breach your eyes. “Did this morning not mean anything to you? I’ve been racking my brain all day as to what I could’ve done to make you act like it didn’t happen.” You dropped your chin to your chest now, forcing back the tears that you refused to let fall. “I just don’t get why you haven’t said anything.”

You were expecting his tone to shift, for him to comfort you like you were used to, but instead he reciprocated your frustration. 

“Why I haven’t said anything?” His back straightened as his eyes widened in shock. “Why haven’t you said something? I thought it was very clear that the ball was in your court. I fucking kissed you for god’s sake! How can you say it meant nothing to me?”

You darted your head back up to look at him. “You’re kidding, right? The pet names, your “friendly” touches, that one night at Jake’s,” you spat at him. “The fucking kiss? You initiate these things and then leave me in the dark immediately after! What the fuck am I supposed to think?”

He was struck speechless for a moment, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he stepped forward to close the distance you had put between you two.

His voice shifted to a domineering whisper, “I’m fucking scared, y/n, is that what you want to hear?” Even though his voice was softer, his mood hadn’t changed. “I know how I feel about you, and I’ve known it since the first night at Mickey’s. I waited until I knew my feelings were true, but I fucked it up along the way.” He dropped his forehead to yours and allowed his eyes to close. “I’m terrified to lose you, to do something-” 

“Just fucking do anything, Daniel,” your voice at full volume. You were growing impatient and increasingly more upset by his confession. “I’m sick of waiting around for you to decide what you want from me.”

He lifted his head back up, his expression telling you that he was taken aback by your tone. You two stood and stared at each other for another long moment, storm clouds of tension swirling around the room.

He moved to grip your jaw like he had minutes before, “Do anything?” The fire in his eyes returned although there was a new glint of mischievous darkness. 

“Please.” Your voice came out as a shallow whisper. 

“Be careful what you wish for, angel.”

With that, he crashed his lips into yours, slowly backing you up against the far wall of the closet, never breaking contact the entire way there. Your back finally hit the cold concrete with a slight thud, the pressure of his weight against you caused a faint whimper to escape your throat. It was quiet enough that you were sure he didn’t hear it, but his chuckle against your lips confirmed that he knew just how badly he was riling you up. He let go of his grip on your chin in favor of snaking both of his hands into your hair, similarly to what he had done this morning. 

Unlike this morning, however, it was you who was fighting for dominance. You intertwined your arms behind his neck, bringing him as close to you as possible as you lightly swiped your tongue against his lips, a silent demand for him to open for you. He gave you access for a split second, letting you fall into a false sense of control, before giving your hair a sharp yank that snapped your head back, causing you to completely fall open to him instead. Holding your hair in his fists, he pulled back from your mouth, looking at your already kiss-swollen lips and smudged mascara. Your jaw was slack as you gazed down the tip of your nose at him, chest heaving in a desperate attempt to get any air to your lungs. 

This side of Daniel was new territory for you; he had never given you the impression that he had a dominant streak, although you did realize that his brothers often fell in line whenever he commanded them to. It excited you beyond comprehension, knowing that you were still learning new things about the man you’ve spent so much time with. 

His hand lightly gripping your throat was what pulled you back from your thoughts and forced you to him. He squeezed the sides of your neck, still allowing you enough room to breathe, while his other hand left the back of your head and started roaming up and down your curves at an agonizing pace.

It was killing you how slowly he was moving. In hopes to relay that message to him, you daringly ground yourself against his body, feeling that his cock was undeniably hard and straining against his jeans, but you were quickly met with a firm squeeze on your hip, pressing you back into the wall. He tutted at you for the second time tonight, shaking his head in disappointment. 

“Who knew my sweet girl was so greedy…”

You gave him a set of award-winning doe eyes as both his hold on your throat and your hip tightened, causing him to let loose a shaky breath as you batted your eyelashes. The hand on your hip began traveling down your thigh and underneath your dress, moving dangerously close to where you needed him the most. Your breath hitched in anticipation as he snapped the elastic of your thong, earning you a dark chuckle in return. Dan leaned in next to your ear as his fingers danced along the waistband of your underwear. “Can I touch you?” he whispered, barely loud enough for you to hear. In that moment, he was the soft, caring Daniel you knew, making sure that you felt comfortable in your current situation. His shifts between light and dark sent you reeling, and you were certain you felt droplets of your arousal run down your inner thigh. 

Dan withdrew his head from the side of your face as you quickly nodded your approval, not worried if you looked too eager.

“Words, angel. Let me hear what you want.” His grip loosened to grant you the ability to speak clearly and your words tumbled immediately from your lips in a hurried slur.

“You, Dan. Please,” you writhed against his fingers, begging him to venture lower, “I want you.”

The second the words left your mouth, his fingers dug into the sides of your neck once more, somewhat restricting your airflow. He decided to show you an ounce of mercy, letting his index finger trail just below your navel, making you shudder. Your head attempted to fall forward to your chest, despite his restraints, as you felt him trace over your clothed core, ghosting circles right around your clit. No matter what situation the both of you were in, he still insisted on messing with you. 

You hissed through your teeth as he pulled your panties to the side, cool air hitting your throbbing heat as he began swiping two of his fingers through your folds.

“Fuck- Jesus Christ, angel, you’re soaked,” he whispered mostly to himself as he directed his gaze down to watch his fingers at work. Somewhere along the way, your dress had been hiked up around your waist, allowing you both front row seats to watch what he was doing. After gliding through your folds and swirling around your clit a couple times, he began teasing your entrance, gathering as much of your slick as he possibly could on his fingers. You groaned when you felt his fingers retreat, only to see him bring his hand up between both of your faces so you could marvel at his handiwork. 

“Absolutely filthy,” he glanced from his fingers into your half-lidded eyes with a devilish smirk splayed wide across his mouth. His words could have made you come on the spot; you were not prepared for him to be this vocal- this morning he remained completely silent. But damn, were his words a treat for you to hear. You watched with rapt attention as his fingers glistened, hardly realizing that his other hand had left your throat and traveled up to grip your jaw. He forced your eyes back to his with a tight squeeze on your cheeks. Eyes burning into yours, he brought his fingers to his mouth and slowly licked you off of them, savoring the taste with a satisfied hum. His tongue curling around his digits gave you a clear glimpse as to what he would be able to do if his head was buried between your legs instead.

He pulled his fingers away from his mouth and brought them to yours, resting the pads of his fingertips against your bottom lip. “Open up,” he said, accompanied by another sharp clench around your jaw. Your mouth fell open instantaneously as he rested his fingers along the top of your tongue, and you unabashedly sucked them into your mouth, eyes never leaving his. 

“How do we taste together, hm?” His eyelids fluttered at how warm your mouth felt, but he couldn’t bring himself to miss the chance of watching his fingers pump in and out of you. “You’re even sweeter than I imagined you’d be.”

Slowly withdrawing his fingers, you hollowed out your cheeks around them, causing him to curse under his breath. You didn’t dare let your eyes drift closed either as he brought his slippery fingers back down to your clit, the pressure featherlight and mind-numbing. Once again, you pushed yourself against his hand, needing more. Every nerve-ending in your body was burning with white hot flame and he knew it, too; this is exactly how he hoped you would respond to him, and he was determined to take his time with you and draw this pivotal moment out for as long as he possibly could. 

This man is going to be the death of me.

You finally relinquished any control you had over your body and allowed your eyes to close, your head tilting back against the concrete wall as you felt him glide one finger inside of you, exhaling a breath that you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. He stilled inside you, scanning your face, amused with how you looked in your already fucked-out state. He admired your beauty: how your lips were still glistening from his fingers, how your eyeliner had drifted to shadow beneath your eyes, how your hair was a tangled mess falling over your shoulders. You were a masterpiece, and he was hell-bent on making sure that you were his and only his for the foreseeable future. 

You grew impatient with his finger laying dormant inside of you, so you forced your eyes open to find him staring at you. Once he was caught, he flashed you a cheeky grin and a cocked eyebrow, “Hi, doll,” knowing damn well that you were growing tired of his teasing.

“Please,” you begged again.

He loved making you writhe in his grasp. 

“Shit, you sound so pretty when you beg. Please what?”

You brought your hand to cup his length still confined in his pants, and the feeling of him twitching against your fingers brought an entire swarm of butterflies to your stomach. He groaned at the contact, quickly trailing his eyes to see where you were grasping him. You made quick work of popping the button of his jeans loose, tugging the zipper down before his hand left your throat and traveled down to grip your wrist, halting your movements.

“As much as I want your hands on me, angel, we’re taking care of you right now.”

“Danny, I need more. Please, let me have it,” you clenched around his digit that still sat inside you, causing a shudder to ripple through him. If you had been in your right mind, watching him shake would have brought a smile to your face. But right now, all it did was send another flood of wetness to your core.

“Only good girls get what they want, angel, and you’ve been anything but good tonight.”

Your eyes shifted to him as you gazed through your lashes once more, praying to any god out there that he would drop the act and give you what you needed. 

“That's not true,” you mumbled out, your voice still hoarse from the hand that was previously around your throat. He brought your hand away from his cock and returned it to your side as he leaned into the crook of your neck, breath hot against your skin.

“Agree to disagree, but why don’t you stop being a selfish brat and show me just how good you can be instead.” He punctuated his words with a sudden curl of his finger, the tip of it tickling that sweet spot deep inside you. You gasped, head falling back again as your mouth hung agape, wondering to yourself if you’ve ever been this turned on in your life. You knew this was a high that you would be chasing for the rest of your life. 

His unoccupied hand began trailing up your body, pausing momentarily at your chest to swipe his thumb over your peaked nipple, and then moved on to return it to its rightful place around your neck. You were seeing stars already, that familiar elastic band of pleasure in your lower abdomen threatening to snap at any moment now. He pulled out his finger only to insert another one alongside it, his thumb beginning to rub circles against your bundle of nerves while his fingers got to work inside of you. 

“You know, I’ve imagined this more times than I care to admit,” he licked a quick stripe beneath your ear. “I’ve dreamt of how you’d squirm for me.” His fingers quickened their pace, alternating between pumping and curling as he felt your walls beginning to flutter around him. “How you’d react to my mouth, my fingers,” he emphasized his words with an especially mind-altering curl of his fingers as his voice deepened further, “my cock-”

His damn fingers.

Tears were threatening your eyes again as you peered over the edge of what you could tell would be one of the best orgasms you’ve experienced yet. You knew his hand around your neck was a purposeful way to bring this out in you, your heady state making you even more responsive to his touch.

“I’m-” you gasped, trying to find where your words were locked away in your brain, “Dan, I’m close-”

“I know, angel, can feel you squeezing me so tight. Will you be good and give it to me?” The circles on your clit were impeccably fast, “Please, let me see how pretty you are when you come.”

Right then, he released his hold on your throat, the rush of blood to your head sending you careening into oblivion. You let out a pitchy moan of his name as you released around his fingers, bracing yourself with your hands clamped on his arms. He continued his hasty pace, guiding you through your high as he chanted a slew of praises in your ear. Your tears must have finally fallen because his free hand was now cupping your cheek, thumb gently grazing underneath your eye to collect any stray droplets. 

He slowed his fingers to a stop only when you began showing signs of overstimulation, and as much as you would have loved for him to continue, to pull another one out of you, you needed his cock inside you. Now. 

You forced your eyes open as you collected your breath, although every inhale you took was shallow and unsteady. You were frantic with need already; his fingers had brought you to heights you had only experienced by yourself in your bedroom, and now you were obsessing over the thought of him stretching you out. You let go of his arms, fingers fumbling to find his belt loops but he suddenly stepped out of your grasp. He pulled himself away to stand directly in front of you, causing you to groan in dismay at the loss of his warmth and weight against your body.

“Don’t worry,” he chuckled, “I’ll give you what you want.” He reached out to stroke your cheek. “You really are a needy little thing, aren’t you?” Your breath caught in your throat as he gave you the gentlest of swats against the flesh. “Turn around, hands on the wall.”

You spun around at an alarming speed, still a little dizzy from the come down as you splayed your palms against the concrete. His hands were on you moments later, securing your dress high on your waist once more as he crouched behind you. You were on full display for him, and he was greedily drinking in the sight of you. He let his fingers trace over the swell of your ass, admiring every curve and divot of your body. You truly were an angel in his eyes, and being able to see you, have you, this way made his heart rattle within his chest. He hooked his fingers on the elastic that hugged your hips and pulled your panties down ever so slowly, helping you step out of each leg with a steady hand on your thigh. Unbenounced to you, he took them in his hands and traced the damp spot on them with the tip of a finger before shoving them into his back pocket. You wished you could see what he was doing, but some masochistic part of you was relishing in the anticipation of not knowing his next move.

“Bend a bit lower for me, sweetheart,” he said as he brought his hands back to your ass, spreading you wide open as you obeyed his command. Perhaps you may have felt embarrassed to be this exposed, but in your needy state you were lapping up any and all attention he would give you. You yelped in shock as you felt him spit directly into your pussy, following it immediately with one languid swipe of his tongue through your folds. His mouth was gone all too quickly, replacing his tongue with his fingers as he whispered, “Absolutely gorgeous, angel. All pretty and wet and pink,” he placed a chaste kiss against your ass, “I wonder how you’d feel fluttering around me-”

“Daniel, please. I can’t wait anymore. I need you inside me, I need you to fuck me-” You nearly sobbed out, your thighs beginning to tremble with impatience and your brain running a mile a minute. 

“Shhhh, sweetheart, breathe for me,” his hands ran along your thighs to help relax them and steady you. “I’ll give you what you want, you’ve been so good for me.” You glanced over your shoulder then, your brows knit together in need and frustration, but the sight of him knelt behind you made your head calm and all pent-up anxiety vanish. You watched as he rose to his feet and immediately picked up where you had left off on his jeans, working to free himself from the tight denim. He pulled himself out of his briefs, his cock springing up against the trail of hair that ran from his navel to the base of his length. Your mouth watered and your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. It was a known fact that Daniel’s body was sculpted out of marble, a true Grecian god walking amongst mortals, and now you knew that was true about every part of him.

Your throat bobbed as you stared at his length, bigger and thicker than you had pictured, and you knew he would fit snugly inside you. You finally broke your stare away from his cock to look in his eyes, hoping that your silent plea for him to fill you up was clear. Thankfully, he nodded as he gripped himself, giving length a few tight, slow pumps, before bringing the tip of it to trace through your folds.

You exhaled a steady breath, letting your head face forward again and dropping your chin to your chest. 

“You ready for me?” He tapped his length against your entrance, punctuating the question. You nodded swiftly, forgetting that he needed your words. You opened your mouth a little too late, his hand quickly creating a ponytail in your hair with his fist, using it to pull you closer to him. His action caused your back to arch and a hiss to escape your lips, the pain on your scalp only increasing your pleasure. 

 “You know the rules, angel.”

“Yes, yes Danny, I’m ready-” and once the words sprang free, he was inching his way inside you, both of you groaning in unison at the feeling. He moved slowly, pausing when he would hear you hiss as he stretched you only for you to beg him to continue, settling once he filled you completely to the hilt. Making sure that you were okay, he waited as you adjusted to his size, releasing his iron grip on your hair in favor of running his fingers through it. Your walls were pulsating around him, swallowing him further inside you as you relished in how full you felt. He was patient with you which you appreciated, but you were too eager for him to begin moving. Now that you weren’t restrained with his hand in your hair, you fell back forward, returning your hands to the wall. 

You took the opportunity the angle provided you to start sliding off his cock, and once he understood what that meant, he slammed back into you, propelling you further forward. One of his hands took purchase on your waist while the other splayed wide across your back as he pulled out of you only to swiftly bury himself to the hilt once more. Your head hung forward, hair cascading around your face like a curtain, swaying in time with his thrusts. He set a harsh, agonizing place, hips hitting hard against your ass as you let your moans fall freely from your mouth. Every stroke of the tip of his cock hit right where you needed it to, and it only took a few short moments for the knot in your stomach to begin tightening once more. 

“You feel-” he interrupted his thought with another sharp thrust, “I don’t even know the words to describe how fucking good you feel.” His hand began hurriedly running up and down your back in adoration. “You’re sucking me in so deep, angel.”

All you could manage was a string of whimpers in acknowledgment, your nerves feeling like pins and needles and your vision turning white. 

He slowed his pace, causing you to clamp your mouth shut to stop yourself from voicing your complaints due to how desperately close you were to coming, only to feel him clamp a hand on your shoulder, bringing your upper body close to his back once more. 

“Open,” he demanded. 

With how he was just pounding into you, you assumed he meant your legs, so you widened your stance further only to hear him chuckle darkly in response. 

“Very cute, doll. Open your mouth.”

You did as he commanded, letting your jaw fall open as he brought his hand off your shoulder in favor of plunging two fingers back into your mouth. He resumed his quick pace as you hummed around his fingers, withdrawing them all too suddenly and dropping them down to draw incredibly quick circles around your clit. 

His name fell from your lips in an agonizing moan, feeling the build-up of your impending orgasm cresting like a tidal wave. You could feel him beginning to twitch inside you, clueing you in that he was close, too. You squeezed your eyes shut, letting yourself completely succumb to his hold on you.

His digits remained on your clit as he pulled out of you quickly, causing a wretched cry to break free from deep within your chest. You had no time to think, let alone complain about the loss of him because his hands were on your hips within seconds, spinning you around to face him and pressing his body flush against yours, your back against that wall once more. He instructed you to jump, giant hands firm underneath your thighs as you wrapped your legs around his hips, crossing your ankles at his back. His strength paired with your back against the wall kept you suspended as he guided his cock back into you, not wasting any time in setting that same mind-numbing pace. He thrusted into you with reckless abandon, much less collected than he had been before as he let his forehead drop to yours, eyes burning into you. 

“Wanna watch your face as you come around my cock,” he said through gritted teeth before bringing his lips to yours in a searing kiss. You both were desperate for release and it was evident in your kiss; tongues tangling together, teeth clashing, and before you knew it you were clenching impossibly hard around him, your senses being overridden by the blinding release he was sending you into. Your eyes clamped shut and you pulled away from his mouth as you cried out his name, not caring how loud it left your lips. He continued along with his pace, his composure becoming increasingly more sloppy as his cock swelled inside you. 

“W-where do you want me, angel,” he panted in shallow breaths, not being able to hold back much longer. 

“I-inside,” words choking in your throat as he jackhammered into you, “I want you inside.”

That was all the confirmation he needed before his head fell back, fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs as a string of curses fell from his lips. He released inside of you with a final thrust, filling you with warm spurts, the feeling dizzying and addicting. He slowed to a halt, bringing his forehead to rest against yours once more as you both came down from your highs, breaths shallow and heavy. You clung to each other as you settled, relishing in the comfort of the other's arms until you felt calm enough to open your eyes, finding his there waiting for you. You pulled him into another kiss, this one short but passionate, allowing your brain time to catch up to the events that had just transpired. Once you were fully in your body again, you chuckled against his lips, causing him to parrot the action. Soon, you two were in a fit of giggles, neither of you able to continue the kiss any longer.

“You know,” you started after your laughter had died down a little, “I’m loving this ‘angel’ business.” You beamed at him, noting the faint sheen of sweat across his forehead.

“Good, cause it suits you,” he said as he placed a kiss against your cheek, simultaneously tapping your thighs to signify he was about to withdraw himself from you. 

“Wait-,” your eyes widened, suddenly embarrassed by what you were about to say. He raised his eyebrows to you in question, urging you to continue your thought. “What if I don’t want you to leave just yet.” He bared his teeth to you in a wide smile, laughing at your bashfulness.

“If you think for a second that this was a one time thing, y/n, you’re out of your mind.”

However, he stayed inside you per your request, feeling him slowly soften as his thumb grazed your cheek. Soon, though, your thighs began to shake slightly, both from overstimulation and from keeping you hoisted on his hips, so you braced yourself as he slid out from you, a hiss escaping through his teeth at the feeling. He carefully set you down, making sure that you were on steady feet before releasing his grip on your thighs. He took it upon himself to straighten your dress before tucking himself back in his jeans, and you began to smooth your hair and detangle any snarls that had formed during your activities. You glanced around your feet, trying to find your underwear but coming up short. 

“Dan? You seen my panties?” you asked, looking like a dog chasing its own tail as you spun around searching for your lost garment. 

“Yeah, I’m taking a souvenir,” he patted his back pocket nonchalantly before giving you a kiss on the top of your head. You playfully pushed him away with a devilish smirk, knowing that he wanted you to feel his come slowly cascading down your thigh, loving the thought of you walking around trying to keep your little rendezvous a secret.

He tilted your chin up with a delicate finger placed beneath your chin before he began swiping a thumb underneath your eyes, eliminating the smudged mascara and eyeliner you knew were evident on the tops of your cheekbones. You followed his eyes as he worked, all too focused on the task he had at hand. It warmed your heart immensely; something so domestic about this innocent moment made all of your earlier questions melt away. You were certain of how he felt for you, regardless of the sex you just had. 

“Alright,” he playfully pecked your nose, “all good.” He began turning towards the door before speaking again, “And y/n, I plan on taking you home tonight. We can talk in the morning, but just know you won’t be getting a lot of sleep tonight.” He swiftly unlocked the door and made his way through it, leaving you and the smelly mops in silence. 

After taking a few minutes for yourself, replaying every image of Danny back in your mind, you made your way to the bathroom. Thankfully, the line had vanished during the time you spent in the closet, and you were quickly able to clean yourself up further, realizing there wasn’t a whole lot you could do for the evident flush on your face and your swollen lips. But you made your way upstairs anyway after doing the best you could, hoping the poor lighting would hide every piece of evidence you were not able to wipe away. 

You found Nat standing at the bar, seemingly getting ready to close the tab. You tapped her on the shoulder quickly, getting her attention. Immediately, her eyes grew wide once they fell on you, a smile so wide that it looked like her face would split in two. With extreme subtlety and impossible swiftness, she took her hand and inched up the side of your dress just to where a panty-line should have been evident. She caught a glimpse of your bare skin before you were able to swat her away, exclaiming “I fucking knew it!” You tried shushing her, not needing any of his nosey brothers noticing your conversation.

“Did this just happen?” She asked, her voice an octave higher. 

“Yeah, and I think I’m in complete shock,” you rushed out in a soft voice, your own smile tugging on your lips.

“Oh my god, you’re telling me every single detail once we get home.”

“Well,” you began, “you’re gonna have to wait until tomorrow cause I don’t think I’m coming home tonight.”

To be continued…

taglist: @joopsworld @gold-mines-melting @shutupdevvie @indigostreakmorgan @sacredjake

[jaegasms]

hi! do you wear contacts for your cosplays? do you have any brands you recommend?

Hello! Yes I wear coloured contacts both for cosplay and outside of cosplay. Here are some brands that I've used/currently use, hope it helps!

For cosplay lenses

Unibling (which is what I currently use for my Armand cosplay in the colour Orange Pop)

EYEVOS (really good for dark eyes in particular, have used them for Armand before too; also obsessed with their packaging)

Moody Lenses

For more natural looking lenses

Solotica Lenses via Lens.Me (I use this A LOT; these are my go to for daily use colour lenses. I've also used them for my Esmeralda cosplay)

Bella Lenses

[legalbrats]

@bloodxhound liked for a starter with teenage Klav!

“Daryan, unlike some of us, I am actually never late and I have actual work,” Klavier hissed into his phone, his other hand holding a stack of papers which he was stuck delivering today.

“Yeah, sure, ‘work’. What is it your job again? Prosecutor’s Office little errand boy?”

“Why you-”

Klavier’s own insult got cut off by him slipping on a stray lost item form on the floor. Who loses a lost item form- was what Klavier would have thought, had he not face planted into something tall and solid right in front of him. At first, he assumed it was a locker, or a cabinet, or some other furniture. However, once he adjusted his prescription sunglasses and clarity returned to his sight, the cabinet suddenly turned into a person. Wonderful.

[erigold13261]

Miguel used to wear sunglasses in the NSpidR AU, but took them off after he accepted his spider half again. (Mirroring Tatiana’s arc) (or he doesn’t since his eyes are quite light sensitive)

I always forget that Tatiana wears glasses lol. Now makes me wonder if they are for style or actual use because she does blow them off her head or like looses them in her fight if I remember correctly.

Anyway! I was gonna say that I don't think spider eyes are light sensitive, but I looked it up and a lot of them actually are! Fun fact, some spiders have their like sensitive eye membranes burnt up by the sun and have to regrow it over the day so they can see (and hunt) at nighttime! So Miguel needing glasses for light sensitivity makes a lot of sense! (him and Purl in similar boats :3).

Plus a majority of spiders have poor eyesight as well (maybe it's because of the sun burning their eyes lol) so he's gonna need glasses either way.

Definitely think he's gonna wear some kind of glasses similar to Purl's where you can barely see into them at all while he is in his like evil phase, and then go to wearing some more casual sunglasses type of glasses later on (still prescription based and helping keep the light out of his eyes, but making his face more seeable).

[conradrasputin]

scraps of an idea I’m stuck on

gonna really au/bend canon quite a bit; Logan meets what he thinks are two twins but they’re actually escapees of the test tube baby biological military  weapons program (an early variation of what happened a la ‘Logan’ film). Cory would be the actual original born mutant (edit his eyes to Sandman teeth eyes upper right btw), part of the subdivision experiments, ‘The Morpheus project’ (see what I did there, ooh subtle), with strength and the power to enter people’s dreams and hunt them in their newly turned nightmares. Still bitter because he recollects the dark haired scientist that he followed since he could remember, who called him his greatest creation, and gladly assisted every experiment, only to be abandoned when he starts harming the guards in real life instead of in their dreams (wasn’t this what he was designed to do?)

Donald is a clone of Cory, from an attempt to alter mutant dna, into human dna. Almost 100% physical copy of young Cory but he comes out missing one hand. He’s almost terminated then and there, except they find he’s strong and has a mild control over technology which keeps the scientists interested (a power I kinda garner from wiki, but tbh the comic is a lot less interesting than the movie/what Bunny is doing) Donald’s clone birth came into the picture after Cory was acting up and his creator abandoned him. Donald takes to Cory right away, and Cory may be pissy, but when Donald tears the tongue out of another scientist with his teeth when they try to sedate Cory, he warms up to him. 

So something something these twinks escape the facility in glorified violence and make their way into the world, tasting life one daddy (and daddy eyeballs) at a time. Donald cuts his blond locks short and dyes Cory’s hair pink when he convinces Cory it’ll double the eyeballs that’ll look at them. They hitchhike and travel all over with their tight clothes and bright lips, Cory in sunglasses for obvious reasons, Donald with stolen prescription lenses for his mildly defective blurry vision from his cloning. They’re making their usual bar daddy run to see who can treat them to a decent meal and fuck before Cory can get his eyeball dessert. 

Enter this BUILT dilf with the handlebar sideburns who isn’t even LOOKING at them, just nursing his drink and cigar, his muscles obvious under his clothes, and his huge bulge even more obvious. Cory’s interested, but he can see Donald is a GONER, taking Cory to a dark corner ‘that one, I want to KEEP that one!’ and Cory’s a bit pouty because how is this going to work with his very obvious mutation behind his sunglasses plus he wanted his ocular dessert, but hey, there’s always a chance this buff daddy will be a bad lay and he can get rid of him (although he doubts it the way those muscles are coiled up.) He agrees, with Donald lifting Cory’s sunglasses up so he can give a sweet affectionate kiss to each mouth. 

Donald goes in first, and it’s a laugh, the guy is still only looking at his drink and every pissy remark waved with his cigar is having Donald making involuntary horny squeaks, not becoming of his dilf seducing abilities. Cory decides to jump in and cut the shit, full out asks whether or not this guy wants to work out his frustrations in a fuck, or in a fight? The guy actually looks up to scoff and stops short when he gets a proper look at them. Donald’s all flushed and blushy with his red mouth open in embarrassment and Cory’s mouth is at full pissed off pink pout and giving a waiting stare behind his shades. The guy takes a moment, a real quick stock to ask himself if he’s a fucking idiot in more than one way, and says ‘Alright. I got a room.’

‘Well how wonderful. Lead the way’ Cory drawls, all sarcastic southern belle, and the guy is clearly realizing the similarities in their looks and vocal twangs. ‘You guys twins?’ and Cory could tell it wouldn’t matter, given the guy’s growing package starting to strain loudly against his belt. 

‘The answer ranges from, it’s complicated, to not really,’ Donald adds with his own drawl, getting back into his groove, ‘but how about you take off our clothes and find out?’ 

The guy grunts and reigns in the urge to heave both of them up and over his shoulders to his room. Donald reigns in nothing and finally settles onto his lap.’You got a name daddy?’ moving his hips up and down. 

‘Logan.’ and he hungrily licks into Donald’s mouth and pins one huge arm around his waist, using his other arm to drag Cory closer. Cory doesn’t have time to appreciate it because his shades fall off from the force. Logan turns a lustful gaze at him before freezing and everything is still. 

It’s dark in their corner of the bar, but Logan can clearly see all three sets of Cory’s teeth. Donald is reluctantly braced to end this night badly, but Logan takes a breath and strokes a gentler hand on Cory’s face. Cory’s still startled and even more so when Logan brings his own hand out of the way and watches sharp steel start protruding into full claws that look like they could tear him to shreds.

‘We all have our secrets.’ Logan says, before they slide back. . Donald slides off Logan’s lap and puts Cory’s sunglasses back on for him, and they’re both staring at Logan. Logan gives a grimace, tries to feel out the room. ‘...Your names?’ 

Donald and Cory give them, and then they’re BOTH on each side of Logan’s lap, getting their mouths wherever they can reach (and Cory’s other mouths are already drooling under the shades as well) and Logan says fuck it, and hauls them over his shoulders after all. From there it’s a frenzy to Logan’s room, with Cory and Donald realizing that while their past dilfs only handled one or the other, or only one at a time, LOGAN is taking them apart at the same time.

They’ve all torn the clothes off of each other, Cory’s shades happily lost somewhere, and the boys are slobbering their pink lips all over Logan’s cock, actually gagging when that’s NEVER happened before, licking mindlessly on Logan’s huge balls before Logan hauls them into bed and stacks them on each other to spank them red, licking and fingering their holes deep, Cory and Donald squealing until Logan lies down and arranges them on each arm, telling one of them to sit on his cock while the other can wait by sitting on his face. Donald has no dignity scrambling on top of Logan’s cock, but Cory’s not going to complain, smothering Logan’s face with his cheeks. 

I’ve got no gift for smut, but ergo, one on Logan’s face, one on Logan’s knot, and you know Logan is planting his feet on the bed to take Donald on a mechanical bull ride while pinning Cory against his face to get every inch of his tongue in that bussy. Then they switch of course, and then some, and then it’s blissful post coital rubbing with Logan softly kissing them (all four mouths, to be clear.)

Cut to a post fuckfest night where for one reason or another, the boys wake up the morning after, alone because Logan probably got caught up in some deadly fight getting his boys some breakfast, and either it takes him too far way, or he wins, but either way, he feels his life is too much of a danger to put Donald and Cory in the life endangering shit he goes through too often, so he leaves them behind. 

Cut to years later when the even older dilf finds out the boys have grown not only into incredibly filled out bodies, but he finds out he accidentally left a parting gift in their last meeting that have Donald and Cory put the M in Milf. 

[thestoriesincoffeestains]

"So the megawatt puppy dog eyes are a constant setting? Wonderful. I'm going to need prescription sunglasses now." Carmen smiled with a nod. They could...maybe it was something to bring up with coach later. Carmen cupped his cheek in her hand. "I think I'll be okay." She thought she'd done a good enough job masking her worry about crowd so far. Honestly, Raf was the one more likely to get recognized.

"Can you walk without moving your legs?" He countered. "Exactly." Raffy grinned, "If anyone could pull it off it's us," the thought was innovative and he filed it away for later. "Uh," Raffy half frowned, "You sure?" He didn't like the idea of being alone in a foreign country himself and really didn't like the idea of leaving her alone. They were partners and he wanted to be sure she was safe.

[echologname]

[Repost from sozeltd on Reddit]

I never have a reason to tell this story but I think it fits here. I was traveling in Mexico, one of my first times outside the U.S., and at the time I spoke essentially no Spanish. I scratched my cornea, which for the lucky among you who don't know is indescribably painful. After literally 72 hours with no sleep due to the pain, I finally deliriously admit to myself I'm going to have to see a doctor, and thus cut my super low budget trip short. I walk into a sunglasses shop, best thing I could think of in my state, and with the help of a phrasebook, I clumsily convey that something is wrong with my eye. The sunglasses guy puts me on the phone with a friend who's an eye doctor and who speaks some English. The doctor gives me detailed directions on how to get to his office on the subway from where I am, and tells me he can see me. When I get there, I realize he's not normally open on Sunday, and in fact he has interrupted family Sunday dinner to see me in his office which adjoins his house. From the table next door where everyone else is still eating his very young daughter peeks her head in a few times, and he tells me she's learning a little English and wants to eavesdrop, but she ends up being too shy to converse. He gets me completely patched up (literally; turns out an eyepatch is step one in stopping the pain), and gives me a prescription for some drops. I ask him "What do I owe you", sort of already bracing for what I assume will be the "off-hours" price and wondering if I'll have bus fare back to the States. He says "Some day, someone in your country will be in a jam, maybe they won't speak the language too well, and they'll need some help. That's what you owe me." It's been years and I still can't think of that story without tearing up a little. It immediately pops into my mind whenever I'm faced with the question of whether to make a little extra time for somebody in a jam.

https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/elal2/comment/c19058c/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb3x&utm_name=mweb3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

[bike42]

Wednesday January 10, 2024

Another wonderfully lazy morning. There had been a heavy rain that passed through about 5am, sounded fantastic on the tin roof and smelled wonderful. We woke with the sun and lazed around a bit, headed to breakfast around 8am. We visited with the German couple as most others seemed to be out on excursion.

After breakfast, we played three games of ping pong with the additional challenge of not loosing the balls in the thick jungle lining the path. As usual, Jeff won all three games but I gave him a run for his money. We had some hammock time for about an hour, then walked to town again. We checked all the shops for a super-soaker for monkey patrol, and a belt for Jeff - struck out on both accounts, but I bought a necklace and a t-shirt. We walked back along the beach, stopping to watch some entertaining water taxi boarding. There is a medium-sized cruise ship out in the bay - seems odd as Drake Bay is definitely not a cruise ship sort of town!

Back to our resort and we sat down to lunch when a large group returned from Cano Island snorkeling tour. Nothing new to report there. We decided to kayak around the point to a beach, so up to the room to change into swimsuits. I had the bright idea to leave my phone behind, and bought just our plastic 2L water bottle and a plastic bag for a towel. We headed off without incident. It was work to paddle, but we were doing okay out in the sea with the waves and swells. A few boats went by and we were careful to turn into their wakes.

We approached the first beach and the landing looked too rough. The tide was in and the beaches looked small and steep. The second beach was wider, so we gave it a try. I paddled to the beach successfully, but failed to jump up and haul the boat to shore as I should have. A wave came and rolled me from the boat. As I was getting up, the wave brought to boat back sideways and bowled me over. I got up and a new wave brought the kayak back and bowled me over again. That time I lost my RayBans and my hat! A nice young man came and grabbed the boat and hauled it to shore. I recovered the bag with my shirt and the towel (filled with sea water now), and the paddle and pfd. I found the water bottle bobbing in the water, but the hat and sunglasses were goners! Jeff was further down the beach and fared better, although his boat was waterlogged and had no handles, so he was struggling to get it up above the surf until the young man helped him too. I’m sure it was great entertainment for those on the beach!

I tried to go back out in the water to wash some of the sand out of my hair and suit - to no avail! The surf was strong, and the waves all had a bunch of sand in them anyways! The only thing I accomplished was loosing my hair tie too. We sat on the boats and drank some water, and studied the waves to plot how we’d paddle out. There were sections of time without big waves so we’d just had to time it right. We put our pfd’s on, and drug the boats to the water. Jeff gave me a shove and I paddled as hard as I could, and got through the waves without incident. I turned around to watch Jeff launch, with the help of the nice young man and a few others who had been swimming. I’d just remarked how much I loved that hat - so packable and comfortable … and I guess I’d had those RayBans pretty long as far as sunglasses go. And I am glad I didn’t have my prescription sunglasses on.

Easy paddle back to the dock. I stopped in the middle of our voyage to try to get some of the sand out of my suit, and also to try to bail out my boat - lost causes. We docked at the resort, and tried to just slip into the side to deposit our waterlogged towel and retrieve our key. I hopped into the shower, and discovered I had about a half cup of sand under the lining of my suit bottom. I’ll try to get it out after it’s dry.

After showering, I tried to nap, but still had a bit of adrenaline coursing through my veins. I finished the book I was reading and scrolled through some email.

About 5:30p we dressed for dinner and headed down to the jungle bar with our cribbage bar. Fernando joined us and we abandoned cribbage after one game and enjoyed our conversation with him. Not sure if I mentioned him before, he’s here for three nights with his wife, Maria, who is the General Manager. He’s quite a character. He spent three years at the Military Prep school in Delafield, WI as a teenager (as did his father, uncle, and many cousins).

We had G&T’s and Mahi-mahi ceviche again - yum! When the dinner bell rang at 7pm, we were delighted to find live music. A trio, with Guierrmo on the drum box. They were quite talented and we enjoyed their music, even though many of the guests were just loud-talking over the music. The singer was very good, but self-conscious of his English (I can relate). He sang a few Elvis songs in Spanish. The keyboard guy was also very talented. They asked for requests, and could play a song by just hearing a bit of it and looking up the words. Jeff and I danced a few songs, tough in the heat and humidity of the jungle, but it delighted Maria and the staff.

We closed down about 9pm, with more music promised for tomorrow night. Off to bed with an early morning excursion tomorrow.

[gentlemanthiief]

❝ Oh, these are -- ❞ . . . fake. The word died in his throat as his hand rose to the left rim of his large, square cosmetic glasses. But before his fingers could tuck under the temple to take them off, an uneasy feeling swirled through his body. He instead adjusted to slide them back up higher on his nose. ❝ Just helpful for reading, I don't actually have a prescription. I generally try to take care of my eyes. ❞

The drive to Okina for Akira to make his journey to Tokyo by train was a somber affair. His grandparents dropped him off, waved goodbye, and didn't even bother to wait until Akira had gone into the station. He instead slipped into a convenience store and grabbed some snacks and a book to read, since all of the ones he wanted to bring were shipped ahead. There he found the glasses on sale by the door on a display shelf of mostly sunglasses. He almost walked away without them. But just before handing the cashier his yen, he reached over and grabbed the pair off the rack. Maybe it would help him blend into the background in this big city prep school. That was the idea, anyway.

But he wasn't sure he was ready to admit that to Maruki just yet.

❝ Sojiro Sakura-san, yes. ❞ Akira confirmed, shifting to get more comfortable in his seat. ❝ Boss is . . . fine, I guess. A bit hard around the edges but he cares in his own way. I'm deeply grateful for his generosity and understanding. ❞ In a lot of ways, Sojiro reminded Akira of the old pastor that lived close to his family's ranch. A stern, somewhat grouchy old man, who valued respect and honesty. But was remarkably selfless and considerate with those he cared for. He was a frequent visitor to the orchards even after Akira's parents died. Akira wondered now how the pastor was doing.

❝ I'm sure he'll appreciate the business if you drop by. ❞

Comparing clients was... poor at best, and Takuto could never entertain the notion: however, to claim Akira's transformation wasn't remarkable would be underplaying its role. Given his upbringing, it would be expected for similar individuals to have depression shadowing their day-to-day life, and whilst the signs were still present... Akira coped with healthy, sound methods.

With their earlier discussions, the idea could be proposed that the emerging hope of the Phantom Thieves aided in this wondrous happiness, something the student body had shared with Takuto in mouthfuls. That hypothesis went unsaid, although Takuto did poorly of hiding this revelation in his expression, the slight quirk of his lip and nod of his head given away internal, unspoken, dialogues.

“All quality ways to spend your free time! I remember getting my first console too, back in the day. A Mintendo 68 - funnily enough, I'd gotten mine from a secondhand shop, too. Everything's great in moderation, though; make sure your eyes don't get as bad as mine,” tap tap to the years-old frames in emphasis, a nervous laugh trailing it. “You'll miss that vision once you get older.”

Personal anecdotes aside, Takuto cleared his throat.

“How are you enjoying living with your, uh... family friend? I believe his name was Sakura-san, right? -- oh! That reminds me to stop by Café Leblanc sometime!”

@gentlemanthiief // continued! ♥