#i’ll pile on the boys i write for soon! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aetherraeys · 2 months ago

Text

beneath the surface

sirius black x fem!reader ⊹ 9.6k

cw ⟢ strangers to lovers, fluff, pining!sirius, non-chalant!reader, endless teasing, tension, sirius is quidditch captain, mild Black sibling rivalry, slytherin!reader

summary: you had absolutely no interest in sirius, but for some reason he had loads in you. they say opposites attract but he wasn't sure if you were really so different.

a/n: this took ages for me to write but it was so much fun and i love sirius so so much! let me know if i missed any content warnings and i suck at proofreading.

When you and Sirius were first seen together, sitting next to each other in divination—poor James abandoned—then couped up in the library, people assumed that you were brought together purely for education purposes.

Assumed you had been assigned to keep Sirius at bay almost, and to ensure he wouldn’t fail his next set of exams. The consequences of another awful report for Sirius were world-ending in his opinion. If he failed to bring his grades up he would have to forfeit the next quidditch season, according to madame Hooch, he needed to graduate with credentials outside of sports.

It wasn’t that Sirius was dumb, that was entirely not the case, no, he just didn’t care to study, didn’t care to show up on time, and used quidditch as an excuse to leave classes more frequently than he should have. Really, if he put his mind to it, he was rather brilliant.

And surely, you, a top student, head-girl infact; reserved—indifferent, never seen without a book or a scroll of parchment. You would have absolutely nothing in common with the hard-headed, outlandish, troublesome Black brother. No, you would better be suited to his more refined, quiet younger brother, Regulus.

When you were then seen by the boys’ changing rooms after a quidditch match, potions textbook in one hand, a slightly displeased expression dorning your face, waiting for none other than the captain—some eyebrows were raised. Still, most brushed it off as a tutor waiting for their student, you were rather regimened like that.

Despite all of that, that still wasn’t the reason you and Sirius were being seen together so often.

In the great hall, Sirius sat restlessly—legs bouncing, eyes darting, neck craned towards the entrance then round to where a group of slytherins sat and back and forth, over and over again. Remus finally let out an exasperated sigh, drawing the attention of James, who with a full mouth spluttered, “Something the matter, Rem?”

“Why don’t we ask Sirius?”, if he were still sitting there, all the eyes would have landed on him. But after looking at his watch, as quickly as the words, “m’ late for something—i’ll be back soon,” left his lips, Sirius was gone.

“Where’d ya reckon he’s off too then?”, a small peace of sausage flew out of James’ mouth—grimancing, Remus replied,

“Haven’t a clue mate”.

The next time you were spotted together, it was by none other than Lily Evans, once again in the library researching for her herbology report, she caught Sirius trailing after you, not unlike that of some lovesick puppy.

Because, unbeknownst to the rest of his friends, Sirius had take quite a liking to you. Although initally you were simply placed together in a group, for an ancient ruins project. Now you just couldn’t seem to shake the boy.

Still in her seat, she watched your expression for signs of anything other than indifference. You walked as poised as always, picking and placing books back on the shelf, humming back uninterested at whatever Sirius was saying to you.

Eyes trained forward as the pile of books you began to stack in his arms grew.

Said project had barely finished a week ago, and now Sirius layed spralled across the sofa in the gryffindor common room, staring aimlessly at the ceiling fan, as it spun round and round.

Lily sat cross-legged on the floor resting her back on the chair that Marlene sat in as she receited the ingredients of the potion she was studying. Nudging her foot and nodding over to Sirius, Marlene scoffed,

“Aren’t you going to pick up a book, Black?”

He didn’t break his gaze from the fan, just mumbling, “Yeah I will…later”

Lily shut her book, and sighed dramatically, adding—”I don’t think Sirius has books on his mind right now, Marls”, in a light, knowing voice.

That caught everyone’s attention, including his.

“Ooo, pray tell, Evans.” Marlene leaned forward in her seat, watching as Sirius shuffled uncomfortably in his seat.

Lily’s voice adopted a dramatic hushed tone, “I think there’s a particular girl on his mind, aren’t I right Sirius?”.

With that Sirius shot up and off the sofa, suspiciously fast, rushing out an, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She was right.

Sirius had been racking his brain for excuses to see you, trying to find more reasons to be in the library of all places, just to spend a bit more time with you.

Even he was shocked, not only were you a slytherin— he knows they’re not all bad but still.

You had zero interest in quidditch, barely acknowledge him and always had your nose in the most boring of books. And yet, he found himself painfully drawn to you. Intruiged, watching from a far spot in the courtyard as your face cracked a bright smile, your hand coming down on your friends leg as you barked out a laugh.

Eyes glowing and crinkled in amusement—listening carefully to your friend’s recount of what had happened in Transfiguration that morning. Times when you bursted out of this shell, animated and full of life one moment, then stoic and apathetic the next.

At this point, Sirius was going to run late for quidditch practice that he’d scheduled, but he just couldn’t tear away his gaze, your head thrown back, clutching your stomach as your laughter bounced off the pillars of the courtyard. Sirius thought you looked absolutely bewitching.

“Could you be any creepier?”, Regulus voice cut through the moment, dry and unimpressed.

Sirius nearly jumped out of his skin, his head whipping towards his brother with a loud, “Merlin!”

He’d been utterly transfixed by you—the way your laughter softened into breathless giggles, the way your fingers wiped at the corner of your eye where a tear had formed.

Regulus rolled his eyes. "Aren’t you going to be late?" he pointed out, arms crossed.

Dragging a hand through his hair. "Quidditch can wait," he shrugged, before his gaze inevitably tried to turn back to you.

Sirius blinked, his expression dropping as his eyes swept the courtyard once more. Just moments ago, you had been right there—laughing, glowing, utterly captivating. And now? Gone. Like a wisp of smoke slipping through his fingers before he even realized he was reaching for it.

Regulus huffed beside him. "Tragic, really," he drawled, already turning on his heel. "Maybe next time you'll spend less time staring and more time speaking."

This time it truly was coincidental.

You sat in the three broomsticks, butter beer in one hand and, as suspected, a book in the other. Today though, Sirius thought you look particularly divine, when not wearing your uniform, you look much less uptight more, you.

Whatever that meant.

He wanted to pay attention that strategies James had devised for the up-coming quidditch games but he couldn’t stop his eyes from flickering back between you and the person who sat across from you in the booth—conveniently out of his view.

James’ sudden huff brought his eyes back, “Were you paying attantion to a word I was saying?”

“I don’t think he was James, he’s been practically drooling over Y/N since we sat down,” Remus didn’t even look up from his pasty as pressed his knife into it.

Sirius felt his jaw tighten, fingers twitching slightly where they rested on the table. It wasn’t the accusation that got to him—he could handle the relentless teasing, the knowing looks. It was the casual way Remus had said your name, like it was something familiar on his tongue.

“Since when are you and Y/N so chummy?” Sirius shot back, trying to keep his voice light, but the sharp edge was impossible to miss.

Remus, finally glancing up, only raised a brow. “Since we both take Astronomy, and I actually talk to people instead of just staring at them across the room.” He cut another piece of his pasty, utterly unbothered.

James snorted. “He’s got you there, mate.”

Sirius wanted to argue, wanted to say I do talk to people—just not when they disappear into thin air the second I look away, but the words stuck. Instead, he only grumbled under his breath and tore a piece off his toast, chewing with far more aggression than necessary.

Now, you were packing up your things, slowly stacking the used plates, neatly placing the utensils in a pile—a hand stuck out handing your bag over to you. Sirius’ eyes squinted, hoping to get a better look, when he saw him.

His brother, his own flesh and blood—but with him, your face looked relaxed, free from the unimpressed expression that it so often had in his presence. Something twisted uncomfortably in Sirius’ chest. He wasn’t sure what it was—annoyance, confusion, maybe even something uglier—but he hated the way you walked so comfortably beside Regulus. Hated the way his brother stood there with your bag in hand, offering it to you like it was the most natural thing in the world.

And yet he remained seated, appetite gone, roughly tossing down the toast on to his plate.

Sirius barely registered James and Remus still talking beside him, their voices muffled under the rush of his own thoughts. His legs began to bounce under the table as he watched you and Regulus exchange a few more words—ones he couldn’t hear, which only made it worse—before you laughed softly, shaking your head at something his brother said.

Turning and walking out together.

Sirius’ moping was beginning to grate on both James and Remus. They all knew why he was in such a state, Remus telling him, if it bothers him that much, he should just go and ask his brother why you were there together.

But instead Sirius whined and let his head fall onto the table, narrowly missing the saucer of jam.

“Is he still sulking?”, Lily asked, tucking herself in.

A fed up mmhm, left Marlene in affirmation. Sirius’ head shot up at the sound of your voice from the table infront of them, effortlessly engaged in conversation, for once books nowhere to be seen.

Sirius barely caught what you were saying, too busy zeroing in on the way you smiled mid-sentence, eyes alight with enthusiasm. And worst of all? Sitting beside you, looking perfectly unbothered, was Regulus (and Pandora), though Sirius payed her no mind.

Sirius groaned, slumping back down onto the table with a dramatic thud. “This is actually torture,” he muttered.

Lily rolled her eyes. “Oh, for Merlin’s sake, just talk to her.”

“I can’t,” Sirius grumbled, voice muffled against the wood. “What if they’re—” He hesitated, lifting his head just enough to peer over at you and Regulus again. “What if they are?”

James sighed, shoving a hand through his hair. “What if they are what?”

“Together,” Sirius hissed, glaring at his friends like it was their fault he was in this mess.

Remus sighed, thoroughly unimpressed. “And what if they aren’t? You’re spiraling over nothing.”

Marlene leaned her chin into her palm, watching him with amusement. “Or,” she added, “you could grow a pair and go find out.”

Sirius groaned louder, dramatically dragging his hands down his face. But even as he protested, his eyes kept flickering back to you—your soft smile, easy conversation, and the way Regulus seemed perfectly at ease beside you.

Yeah. He was going to lose his mind.

The evening on that same day, Sirius was still distraught, eyes glazing over the same page of his potions textbook for what felt like 100th time. Lily came rushing in a wide grin stretch across her face.

Stationing herself infront of Sirius, she waited from him to look up at her, “You owe me big time, Sirius”.

He blinked up at her, barely registering her words at first. His brain was still stuck on the same miserable loop—Regulus, you, Regulus, you—but Lily’s smug expression was enough to snap him out of it.

“What?” he asked warily, closing his textbook with a dull thud.

Lily wiggled her brows. “I may have happened to find out exactly why Y/N and Regulus were together today.”

Sirius sat up so fast his chair scraped loudly against the floor. “And?”

Lily folded her arms, basking in the moment. “And you, my dear Sirius, are an absolute idiot.”

“That’s not news, Evans, context—now.”

She let out an exaggerated sigh, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Y/N is tutoring Regulus in Arithmacy.”

Sirius blinked. Then blinked again. That’s it? He opened his mouth, then closed it, as if trying to compute the information. All this time, all this sulking—

Lily smirked at his stunned silence. “He’s ahead in his class, so Y/N is prepping him to join advanced classes.”

He let out a sigh of relief, her hand patting his shoulder as she stood, “That’s not all.”

“I’ve decided to graciously help your cause, and take you as my plus-one to Slughorn’s party on Friday.”

His face scrunched in displease, “Why would I want to go to Slug’s Party? Besides I have to train for quidditch.”

Lily shook her head, question why she bothered to help the boy in the first place. “You really are hopeless, aren’t you?”, her hands now placed on her hips, “Because, Sirius, Y/N is going to be there, and unlike you, I have an actual plan.”

Sirius narrowed his eyes. “A plan?”

Lily sighed dramatically, as if she were speaking to a particularly dense child. “Yes, a plan. One that involves you actually talking to Y/N instead of sulking and shooting death glares at your own brother across the Great Hall.”

Sirius groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “I don’t shoot death glares.”

Lily gave him a flat look. “Regulus actually asked me today if he’d offended you in some new way. And frankly, he looked delighted about it.”

Sirius scowled. “Smug little git.”

“Exactly. Which is why you need to do something before he catches on that you’ve been acting like a jealous, brooding fool for the past two days.” She crossed her arms, tilting her head. “Besides, Slughorn’s parties are the place for whispered conversations and accidental strolls through the greenhouse.”

He huffed, torn between appreciation and sheer annoyance that Lily had clearly been scheming without him. “And you’re sure Y/N’s going?”

She responded with a light, ”Yup”.

Then Lily shot a very guilty look toward the door before lowering her voice. "I was originally going to take James."

At that exact moment, James’ voice rang from behind her, utterly deadpan. "Yeah. Thanks for that, by the way."

Sirius glanced over Lily’s shoulder to see James standing there, arms crossed, looking entirely unimpressed.

Lily winced. "I’ll make it up to you."

"You’d better," James muttered, though there was an amused glint in his eyes.

Sirius’s mouth opened as another thought hit him. "Wait—what about Regulus?"

Lily tilted her head, looking far too pleased with herself. "Oh, he was invited," she said airily, inspecting her nails. "But he had to decline. Prefect duties, I think."

Sirius blinked. Then, ever so slowly, a grin curled at his lips.

"Well," he drawled, stretching out his arms. "Why didn’t you lead with that?"

By Godric’s graces, Sirius was sat next to you, sweaty palmed barely able to look up from his plate. His tie felt too tight, strangling him, making his throat dry. The chatter of the party buzzed around him, but all he could focus on was you.

There you were—calm, composed, your posture straight, as though you were perfectly content to sit there in silence, only speaking when spoken to, listening without much reaction. It felt like a nightmare and a dream all at once—being so close to you, yet so far out of reach.

How exactly was he supposed to casually strike up coversation, when your expression was so unreadable. He missed the way your face looked when it wasn’t so tightly bound, when it was loose—and carefree. You didn’t fidget, didn’t seem to notice the clinking glasses and hushed conversations at nearby tables.

And of course, as a top student, you were sat on Slughorn’s main table. Among the smartest in Hogwarts, and though he had been steadily working on his grades—again thanks to Lily.

He couldn’t shake how ill-fitted he felt for this event.

He was always so sure of himself—always so confident, a boistrous charm in the way he carried himself. But here, next to you, in the hush of your carefully maintained silence, he felt unsettled. Out of place. Uncharacteristically unsure.

You weren’t unkind, nor were you cold, but there was a deliberate distance in the way you held yourself. Private. Dignified. A quiet sort of control that left no room for unnecessary conversation. You weren’t ignoring him, but you weren’t indulging him either.

Sirius was used to attention, to easy smiles and playful banter, to people leaning in when he spoke. With you, there was none of that.

He just wanted to, for once, be the reason your exterior cracked, to get a glimpse beneath the surface first-hand.

The silence stretched, thick and unbroken. He should have found it uncomfortable. Maybe he did. But something about it—about you—held him there, kept him still when he would have otherwise filled the space with careless words.

And then, you glanced at him, catching his eye. Waiting expectantly, something about the way you looked at him, your gaze neutral but observant—

"Sirius," you said, your voice low, subtle, soft around the edges, catching him off guard. Whispering, “He’s talking to you?”

Lily less graciously clear her throat and parroted Slughorn; “He was saying he thought Regulus was already quite a gifted alchemist. And that maybe you should consider joining him in the advanced potions class”.

There was small snickers as he spluttered out, “Oh! Uh right, well um…I’d love to but um, with the quidditch season starting, I’m not sure what electives I’ll be able to take”, he rubbed his palms forcibly drying them on his trousers.

When his eyes flicked momentarily over, he swore he saw the corners of your lips twitched up into a the smallest of smirks, shaking yorur head in unimpressed amusement. The tips of his ears felt hot, but he couldn’t ignore the sense of satisfaction blooming in his chest—a win, was a win in his books, embarassing as his was.

Slughorn nodded hastily in acknowledgement, “Ah yes…yes! I’ve see you on the pitch, Black. You’re quite the talent.” Seamlessly launching into a speech about ambition, talent, and the bright futures of his carefully selected guests. Sirius barely heard a word of it.

He found his fingertips aimlessly picking at the buttons of his cuffed sleeve, still reeling in his small victory. However minuscule, however brief, it was something. And for Sirius Black, that was enough to keep his spirits lifted, even as he sat in his stiff chair, enduring Slughorn’s endless praise for his star pupils.

Pushing boundaries, wanting to get another reaction out of you. Something more than a smirk, more than that slight shake of your head.

Leaning slightly closer, he dropped his voice just low enough for only you to hear. “Do you reckon Slughorn’s rehearsed this in the mirror? Or does he just feel it in his soul?”

You didn’t look at him immediately, only reaching for your glass with careful ease, as if you were debating whether or not to entertain his comment.

You mimicked his lean in feigned drama, your voice coming out measure and hushed.

“I imagine he does both,” you mused, tilting your head slightly. “Practice ensures confidence, but true passion?”—your eyes met, the glint of jest that he saw was undeniable, “That can’t be faked.”

Sirius blinked, momentarily a small huffed chuckle slipped past his lips. It wasn’t what he’d expected—just enough to match his teasing but just ambiguous enough that he couldn’t tell if you were just playing along or making a genuine observation. Either way, it was enough to disarm him.

He exhaled, feeling his shoulders ease from the tense position they had been locked in all evening, the stiffness melting away before he even realized it had been there. The tight grip he’d had on his own nerves loosened, and he had to fight off the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

For the first time that night, Sirius felt like he had an in.

The mingling had begun, hors d'oeuvre and a variety of other dishes were handed out. You stood with Lily, and your plus-one, Pandora. Lily caught him staring hopelessly at your turned back—called him over with a knowing smirk, her voice cutting through the buzz of conversation. “Sirius, why don’t you join us?”

You turned you attention to him as he walked over, slowly inserting himself, listening—Pandora, who was currently enthusing to you about magical creature care. Her eyes were bright with excitement, hands gesturing animatedly as she described a recent lesson on the behavioral patterns of mooncalves. Lily, equally engaged, nodded along, chiming in with her own thoughts.

Unlike the other two, you weren’t adding much to the conversation, simply holding your glass loosely in one hand, gaze flickering to the room beyond as if your mind was elsewhere.

His eyes drifted lower, catching sight of your near-empty glass, condensation pooling at the edges. Before he could second-guess himself, he stepped closer, angling toward you slightly.

“Would you like another?” His voice was even, polite—none of his usual theatrics, no teasing lilt. Just a simple offer.

Your gaze lifted to meet his, searching his face for a moment before you glanced down at your glass. There was a brief pause, then a small nod. “That would be nice.”

“Any preference?”

You considered for a moment before answering, “Something fruity. Not too sweet.”

You watched as Sirius took your glass with a quiet nod before turning toward the drinks table. For a moment, you considered staying put, letting him bring it back to you, but something about the way the room buzzed with conversation—Lily and Pandora still deep in their discussion—made you move.

Without a word, you stepped away from the group and fell into step beside him. Sirius glanced at you, brows raising slightly, but he didn’t comment. Instead, he adjusted his stride to match yours, the two of you weaving through the crowd in a comfortable silence.

At the drinks table, he reached for an empty glass. “Something fruity, not too sweet,” he murmured, repeating your request as he scanned the selection.

You hummed in affirmation, watching as he carefully poured. Letting a soft, “Thank you,” pass into the air between you.

As you took a sip of your drink, you glanced at Sirius, curiosity flickering in your eyes. “I was expecting to see Lily with James tonight, not you,” you remarked, tilting your head slightly.

Sirius exhaled a small chuckle, swirling the liquid in his glass. “So was James. He was less than pleased when Lily swapped him out for me.”

You hummed, lips pressing together as you nodded. “And yet, you still came.”

Sirius placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. “What, you think I can’t enjoy a sophisticated evening of small talk and fine dining?”

You gave him a dry look, unimpressed. “I think you’d rather be anywhere else.”

He gasped—actually gasped—so theatrically that the man standing beside you both at the drinks table glanced over in alarm. “You wound me,” he said, staggering back half a step as if struck. Unfortunately, in his dramatics, he miscalculated his footing, knocking his elbow against a tray of glasses just as the man set them down.

One wobbled, teetering dangerously toward the edge. Instinctively, Sirius shot out a hand to steady it, but the sudden movement caused his own drink to slosh over the rim and down into the sleeve of his shirt. With a twisted expression and he let out a disgusted groan, feeling the cold liquid slide up towards his elbow.

The moment was so ridiculous, so perfectly clumsy despite all his usual effortless bravado, that before you could stop yourself, a laugh escaped you. Not just any laugh, not the superficial, light laugh he had heard from you once before, no, your laugh was full and rolled through the quiet area by the drinks table. Earning a few turned heads.

Sirius looked up sharply, frozen for a moment as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d managed to get such a reaction out of you. Then, slowly, his lips curled as he chucked to himself in disbelief.

You bit back the rest of the laugh that threatened to bark out of you.

You clear you throat, hand coming up to physically stop you from breaking once again. “Sorry, I—,” you stopped yourself, licking your lips as a smile of amusement lingered at the corners of your mouth.

Sirius shook his head, eyes still fixed on you in an almost fascinated way. “Don’t apologise,” he said, voice softer now. “Good to know you’re human.”

You scoffed lightly, raising a brow. “Not everyone is always quite as animated as you, Black.”

His grin turned wolfish as he leaned in ever so slightly. “And yet, here you are, laughing at my misfortune.”

You exhaled through your nose, shaking your head as you glanced away, but the atmosphere between you had shifted, lighter now, easier.

The conversation that carried between you was more casual that he’d expected. Finding out that you weren’t quite as anti-social as he’d originally pinned you.

Learning your indifferent silence wasn’t cause by anything other than a preference for meaningful conversation over idle chatter. You spoke when you had something worth saying, and Sirius found himself even more drawn that he was before.

As you became less of a mystery to him, he marked your almost dry, understated wit—one that revealed itself in carefully chosen words and small sarcastic remarks. He stood beside you, soft rings of laughter and chatter resonating, the distance between you closing as the hours shed away.

Perched on a window in the Bell Tower, you admired that stars that were scattered across the sky—he’d also learnt that you had soft spot for Astronomy. Explaining why when he was looking for you in the library, 60% of the time he’d failed. Revealing that you spent more time in the Astronomy tower than anywhere else in the castle.

But speaking about the stars was when you truly came to life, gushing at the high-visibility of the constellations that hung in the sky that night.

“It really is a privilege to seen the sky like this—Look, look there! Can you see it? An hourglass with three stars in the middle.” You leaned forward over the window, pointing earnestly at the stars above.

“Y/N, I have honestly no idea what I’m supposed to be looking at.” Small chuckles littered through his sentence.

Your hands dropped dramatically, huffing out an exasperated sigh. “Sirius, you aren’t even looking in the right place!”, moving to stand impossibly close to him, first guiding his fingers up to point closer to where he should look.

There was still had no reaction, you watched his eyes dart up and down, left and right—brows creasing in efforts to see what you had. Growing impatient and fearful a cloud may steal the precious opportunity away—you reached up, your skin warm and radiating through his cheeks, touch too tender as you angled his chin ever so slightly higher.

Palms lingering on his face, watching—waiting for him to register what was so obvious to you, “Have you found it yet?” Your voice faintly above a whisper, calm and hypnotic.

"Not yet," he murmured, though his voice had lost the usual mischief. You wanted to look back at the stars yourself, so tempted to give up. But he was still looking—still searching, eyes pinched, his lips parted slightly; whispers of his hair dancing over you every so often.

You could see them reflected faintly in the darker silver specks in his eyes, your hands still hadn’t moved from his face, any space between had now vanished entirely, neither of you in any hurry to step away.

Then, just as you opened your mouth to prod at his delay once more, his breath caught, and his gaze finally narrowed, focusing.

“There!”, almost in awe, as if the constellations above had been birthed before him—lips curving up into the biggest beam you think you’d ever seen, so bright it challenged the very stars you beholded.

An incredulous laugh punched through him, his shoulders bouncing, body vibrating against yours. Obviously, Sirius had seen the stars before, and yes, they were beautiful—and until tonight, they were just that, stars—far away orbs charged with fading into the distance.

But in this quiet moment, they felt impossibly closer somehow, and Sirius was suddenly ashamed to have only just noticed them, ignorant to the small pleasures they could hold.

You followed his gaze, to the familiar pinpricks of light shining in the night sky. “About time,” you teased, your voice had lost its edge.

He could hear the smile on your face in your voice, light and airy, bewitching him as the seconds passed, “And if you look at there…jussttt across, that really really bright one,” Now, he could feel your breath skipping over the skin below his ears, goosebumps prickling down the back of his neck. Sirius hummed softly back.

Your hands gently slipped from his face, leaving warmth and wanting in their wake, as your words, the softest of the night—

“That’s you.”

Your voice seemed to echo over and over in his head, unmistakably clear. For a moment, Sirius couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, his heartbeat sounded loud in his ears. Eyes flicking between you and the star.

“That’s me?” he echoed, voice a little quieter than usual, in a hushed tone, afraid of discovery.

You nodded, a small mhmm.

A faint nervous chuckle bubbled in him, still close enough to be gently shook by his vibrations. “Well, you sure know how to make a guy feel important.” Almost laughing at the absurdity of it—

Tearing your eyes away from the sky, the corners crinkling in amusement, this time you didn’t hold back, didn’t cut your laugh short. You threw your head back, moonlight bouncing off the skin of your neck—as a hearty laugh ripped through you. One hand clasping your stomach, muscles beginning to ache, the other finding purchase on his arm. And it seemed that, once you had started, you struggled to stop.

Melodic giggles mixing with his, he couldn’t help but join in—your vibrant and unrestrained joy infectious. His free arm finding your waist, giving you some stability as you leaned into him, breathless.

“What? What—what’s so funny?”, grinning like a fool, his own question punctuated with the laughter bubbling from him.

When you finally pulled back, gasping for air, there was a softness in your eyes, your fingers still rested lightly against his arm, the proximity making the depths of his stomach flip.

“Merlin,” you breathed, shaking your head as if trying to steady yourself, “You’re actually quite funny, Sirius,” Bodies now resting against the cold stone wall, hands still on each other.

“Glad you think so,” his voice again confident and dripping with teasing sarcasm.

You rolled your eyes, but it was accompanied by another smile, turning to pointing at the star.

”That—” you started, but you knew his gaze hadn’t left your face yet; elbowing him lightly before you continued. “That, is the Dog Star, the brightest star in our skies and it’s named Sirius. Gods, you really are something,” words littered with of faux annoyance.

He raised his hands in defeat, another laugh rolling through him, “Now was I meant to know that!”

Quickly leaning into you, fueled by your relaxed smile, he brought his lips mere millimeters from your ear, and you could feel the warm of his body—smell his scent of roasted coffee, warm sandalwood and burnt parchment.

“And I bet that’s your favourite,” just above a whispered tone, painfully smug.

He could feel the shiver that ran down your spine, breath audibly hitching, “Oh, spare me, Black!” failing to fight the twitching smile that wanted to play on your lips.

“My favourites are actually in the hourglass I showed you earlier.”

His eyes glimmered with mischief, watching your expression carefully, “Oh, I totally believe you, Y/N. And what might it be called?” His closeness was disarming, that irritatingly charming, teasing confidence of his—combined with the way he looked down at you with an uncalled for fondness. You couldn’t, didn’t dare look back at him, not until the heat that’d built up and began crawling up your neck simmered down.

“It isn’t just one star, it’s the three that split the hourglass,” picking up one hand from the cold ledge, directing his gaze away from your face—”It’s called Orion’s Belt, apparently because it cuts across the ‘waist’ of the constellation.”

The smirk that spread across Sirius’ face, far too smug and self-satisfied, a snicker slipping in—“Orion’s Belt, huh?” he mused, leaning slightly closer to inspect the stars with you.

Squinting, whipping your head to him, suspicion written all over you face, “Yeah…Why’d you say it like that, though?”

He turned to casually lean his back against the pillar, crossing his arms, keeping his eyes on you, “I didn’t say it like anything?” Playful. Feigning innocence.

“Then why do you look so unbareably pleased with youself?”, mimicking his lean and crossed arms. He enjoyed the skeptical look in your eyes, pushing himself up off the pillar, abruptly closing the space you had so recently put between you.

One hand curved around the rock that framed the window, and the other hand, oh so conveniently placed just above your head; closing in. Eyes helplessly travelling from his face down his neck—he was getting dangerously close now, only now noticing his unbuttoned shirt, chest exposed, and silver necklace dangling away from his skin at the depth of his incline.

Dipping his head down to catch your wandering eye, leaning further—inching closer and closer, holding you captive in his gaze. Leaving barely a fingers space between your lips, deliberately skimming your jaw with the very tip of his nose before stopping by just below your ear.

So close you swore you could hear his pulse, loud and steady, rhythmic. It was torturous, the tips of your ears burned hot, lips pressing into a thin line. He still hadn’t said anything, seconds passed like hours, a breath held so tightly in your chest your shoulders began to raise.

His voice low and breathy—

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

There was nowhere to run to, nowhere to hide; even as he made his retreat he stopped again, hand that once rested on the stone frame, resided precariously in the gap of the wall and your waist. Searching for any signs of protest, or discomfort in your face, he waited at eye-level with an intensity that made your chest stutter its rise and fall pattern.

Sirius tilted his head just slightly, the corner of his mouth quirking up in unfiltered amusement, you weren’t going to let him win. Dropping his gaze and letting your eyes drift so obviously down his chest, raising your hands from your side.

Swallowing the scoff that edged that tip of his tongue, as you pulled him in by the collar closer—delicately trailing your fingertips down, down, down. Your eyes were on his again, challenging, teasing, and relishing in his expression. Adam’s apple bobbing as the tips of your thumbs brushed directly against the skin of his chest. Before smoothing over the fabric, looking up at him, innocent, effortless—yet so painfully calculated. You tip-toed slightly to reach his ear, palms now firmly pressed against torso, this time you could feel his heart, thumping, fast and firm.

“I think…”, the whispering presence of your lips against the reddened shell of his ear, smirk deepened when you felt the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. “I think I’m going to bed now, Black.”

And then—just as quickly as you’d drawn him in, you let go, pushing him back with little to no force, he teetered, hand ghosting over where yours had been.

Spinning on your heel, he watched you walking away, not sparing a single glance back.

You heard his voice bouncing off the walls, getting further and further way—“At least let me walk you back!”, Sirius let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through his hair as he fought off the stupid grin tugging at his lips.

“Goodnight, Sirius!” You called back, silhouette fading into the dim corridors of the castle.

His body still hummed with the memory of your fingertips, your voice, that look in your eyes, a laugh bubbling up in his chest only now noticing you’d buttoned up his shirt, he shook his head.

Merlin help him.

When his friends saw him in the Great Hall the next morning, he had a new-found pep in his step. Excessively cheery and energised, just itching to get a glimpse of you again.

“I take it Slug’s party went well then,” Remus remarked, smirking as he sipped on his orange juice. Sirius tried to hide the way his lips wanted to break out into a grin, failing miserably, “What makes you say that?” he chimed.

His friends scoffed at his words, as obvious as his moping and longing were, he also wore his triumphs on his face. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe its the way you’ve smiling like a psycho into your bowl of cereal. Just a guess, though!”, James didn’t even try to disguise his loud snort at Marlene’s comment.

Sirius shrugged, too caught up in his own bliss to pay any attention to what she’d said. He was still flicking looks at the entrance, not entirely sure what he would do when he actually saw you, nevertheless waiting, rather impatiently at this point.

Remus rolled his eyes, setting his glass down with a soft thunk. “It’s almost pathetic, really,” he mused, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. “You’d think after all these years, you’d have a little more subtlety.”

Sirius scoffed, finally tearing his gaze away from the doors to flash Remus a cocky grin. “Subtlety is overrated, Moony.”

“Not when you’re staring at the entrance like a lovesick kneazle waiting for its owner to come home,” Lily cut in, settling into the seat next to Marlene. She gave him a pointed look before lazily stirring her tea. “So, are you going to tell us what happened, or are we supposed to sit here and suffer through your dreamy sighs?”

“I don’t sigh,” Sirius argued, but before he could elaborate, James jumped in.

“You do. And, honestly, it’s disturbing.”

Marlene snickered. “And loud.”

Remus hummed. “And frequent.”

Sirius groaned, shoving his spoon into his cereal with a little too much force. “Fine,” he relented, though he hardly looked annoyed, his grin creeping back into place. He let himself sink into the memory of the night before—the way your voice had softened, how your fingers had trailed down his chest, how you had absolutely played him before walking away like it had meant nothing.

It had definitely meant something.

But before he could speak, the conversation around him stilled.

His heart stammered. He didn’t need to turn to know why.

You had finally arrived.

And, just to be cruel, you didn’t acknowledge him right away. No, you were far too composed for that, greeting Pandora with a smile, engaging in brief conversation with Dorcas. Sirius forced himself not to pout—you had to have known he was watching.

Almost in sync, all three of you turned your sights to him, Pandora’s lips pressed into a thin line, containing a laugh, while Dorcas did little to conceal her reaction, both hands coming to her mouth, as if trying to force the spluttering laugh that had escaped back into her mouth.

There it was. That hint of amusement, the ghost of a smirk tugging at your lips before looking away again—pretending as if nothing had happened at all.

Sirius let his head drop onto the table, melting with a dramatic groan.

“Oh, yeah,” James laughed, slapping him on the back. “He’s absolutely done for.”

After that morning, you and Sirius had been seen together at a much higher, frequency rate. It started subtly—him waiting for you outside the library after your tutoring sessions, lingering near the Slytherin common room under the pretense of “just passing by.”

Then it became impossible to ignore. Stolen moments in the Astronomy Tower, lying on the floor as you told him stories of the stars, his leather jacket draped lazily over your shoulders on particularly cold nights. Walking up to the Great Hall side by side, bickering about something utterly ridiculous, only to separate seamlessly at the entrance—he to his table, you to yours.

It’s not that that you didn’t like his friends, and it wasn’t that they didn’t notice the shift. Lily’s knowing glances, James’ exaggerated winks, not even meant for you to see, but James wasn’t exactly discrete—still none of it phased you. Your friends had noticed too, they saw the way you’d started to schedule your head-girl duties around his Quidditch meetings so you could ‘coincidentally’ bump into him in the Courtyard.

You still refusing to confirm or deny their suspicions—because you and Sirius were still just friends.

And yet, Sirius Black, the boy who had never carried a single book of his own, had been spotted time and time again with your textbooks in his arms. Slinging your bag over his shoulder like it was second nature, grumbling about how ridiculously heavy it was, but never once handing it back until you were where you needed to be.

And if anyone commented on it, he’d simply shrug, flashing a lazy grin as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“What do you carry in here?” he muttered one afternoon, adjusting the strap over his shoulder. “A dozen bricks? A severed head?”

“Oi, nosy Parker! Do I question what you lug around in that ghastly duffle bag?” you quipped back, lips twitching when he scoffed dramatically.

But more telling than anything was you. Sirius’ presence had breathed life into you, and the more time you spent with him, the more he chipped away at your most guarded parts. The carefree laughs that, before your friendship, were few and far between, corridors now rung with a mix of your vibrant giggles and his howling laughter—on more than one occasion being scolded for disrupting nearby lessons.

“I’m so sorry, Professor, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again,”

The door of the classroom barely closed before Sirius grabbed your hand pulling you away, both snickering, trying to run, impossibly faster to keep up, him parroting your empty apology. There was an ease in the way you spoke, a lightness in your voice, even when you hissed out a Sirius in that exasperated, almost always fond tone.

And in turn, you were learning him. The Sirius Black behind the bravado. The one who stayed up far too late studying because he swore he wouldn’t fail another Potions test (though, truly, you were the one keeping him from failing). The one who distracted you during tutoring sessions, doodling on your parchment instead of taking notes.

“You do realise this will not help you pass, yes?” you deadpanned, pointing at the horrendous stick figure he’d drawn.

“I disagree,” he said solemnly. “This is a visual representation of the tragic fate of the gillyweed. Taken too soon.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back a laugh.

And then there were the other moments. The ones that left you holding your breath, the air between you taut—thin and the space between you even thinner. His fingers brushing against yours a second too long when he handed back your quill. The times in the back corners of the library when he’d leaned in just close enough that your noses nearly touching, only to reach over your shoulder and pluck a book he didn’t need from the shelf behind you.

And if Sirius hadn’t know any better, he’d think he saw a pout on your lips when he stepped back, “Disappointed, are we?”

To alot of people, you made no sense.

You were put-together, composed, meticulous. Sirius Black was reckless, loud, and endlessly exasperating. But what they didn’t realise—what no one truly saw—was that beneath all of it, you weren’t so different.

By the time you’d made your way into the Great Hall; the usually conjested walkways between the tables were clear, some students still milled about—finishing their breakfasts and making their way out.

You sat, as you always did, with Pandora, Regulus and Dorcas, parchment in one hand and toast in the other. Humming along with the conversations that carried beside you. You’d seen Sirius when you entered, knees resting on the bench as he leaned over the table, huddled amongst his friends and a few faces you didn’t quite recognise.

Sirius was preoccupied.

“—and if I loop around Flint here before he can block, that leaves me wide open to feint left and pass here—” James was rambling at full speed, Quidditch playbook spread across the table, but Sirius was barely paying attention. His eyes kept flickering toward the dwindling crowd, tracking your movements as you slowly gathered your things.

“Uh-huh,” he muttered absently, cutting James off mid-sentence as he abruptly stood.

James blinked. “Mate?”

Sirius ignored him, slipping through the benches and making his way over to you. You didn’t even look surprised when he appeared beside you, just raised a brow as he fell into step next to you.

“Good morning to you, too,” you murmured, adjusting the strap of your bag.

Sirius grinned, keeping pace with you easily. “I had a thought—”

“Oh, Shall I call Madame Pomfrey?”

He huffed, nudging your shoulder lightly. “I think you should come watch me play.”

You hummed, not slowing down. “Quidditch?”

“Yes, Quidditch,” Sirius said, as if there was any other answer. “You know, the most thrilling, heart-pounding, exciting sport at Hogwarts?”

“I have no interest in it.”

His jaw dropped dramatically, stopping in his tracks, face dorned with a look of pure offense. “What! But it’s the first game of the season! Everyone’ll be there!”

Trudging to a stop, you turned to face him, weight shifting onto one hip—arms crossed over your chest. Your lips twitching, the slightest of smirks gracing them before you spun away from him and continued toward the doors. “Exactly, with everyone else there, I’m sure you’ll survive.”

Sirius jogged to catch up, eyes twinkling, his hands on your shoulders, lightly shaking you. “Come on, Y/N, just this once. You wouldn’t want me to lose, would you?”

“That depends,” you mused. “Would you blame your loss on my absence?”

“Absolutely.”

Earning him an eye-roll and a quiet chuckle, even after all this time, he still felt a pang of victory when he was the cause of your smile. Finally, you pushed an exasperated sigh out, shaking your head. “Fine, Black. I’ll come.”

Truthfully, you’d already rescheduled, even post-poning your tutoring sessions so you’d have time to go, simply finding amusement in his grovelling.

His face lit up, “Anndd will you come by the changing rooms after the match? We can go with everyone to Hogsmead after, to celebrate.” His last words came out rushed, a clear after thought, eyebrows still raised into a pleading expression, you didn’t respond immediately.

A feigned debating look on you face, lips pressed into a thin line, foot tapping and an unsure hmmm reaching his ears.

He bent his head down to meet your eyes, always so close but so far away—“I’ll make it worth your while,” he voiced faintly above a whisper. You groaned, head rolling back in playful reluctance, your words came out more pinched than you’d hoped, mumbling out “Maybe…”

Escaping his clutch with a turn of your heel, retreating down the corridor without looking back. Sirius lingered there for a moment, watching you go before he spun around and bolted back to the table.

James barely had time to react before Sirius all but crashed into the bench beside him, looking positively giddy.

“She’s coming,” he announced, practically vibrating.

Marlene snorted. “Poor girl.”

Lily rolled her eyes. “Merlin help us if he wins.”

But he wasn’t paying attention. He was already envisioning it—the roar of the crowd, the wind in his hair, the knowledge that you would be there, watching.

Sirius was unnecessarily righteous when it came to his duty as captain, and as much as winning was important to his pride, feeding off the energy that surged around him when he brought his team to a victory.

Now, winning really mattered.

You’d never been to a Quidditch match before, opting to avoid the commotion all together. Frankly, you’d written it off as ‘too violent’, after passing by the hospital wing time and time again—seeing poor Madame Pomfrey overwhelmed with the sheer volume of injured players post-match. Just the idea of watching made you grimance slightly, anxiety lightly brewing in you.

The match had been brutal.

Barely half-way through your voice adopted a coarse and gravelly cadance, suprisingly over-zealous and commited to cheering. A shocked laugh leaving Remus’ mouth, as your voice boomed, travelling rows away.

A grueling hour and a half of hard-fought goals, relentless defense, and a nail-biting chase for the Snitch. But in the end, Gryffindor had come out victorious, and Sirius had played one of his best games yet.

The hope of ‘maybe’, made him dress just that bit faster—fighting the aching tension of his muscles. He was still the last to stide out of the changing rooms, James roughly massaging his shoulders, grins of exhaustion on their faces. Hair still damp and clothes still slightly askew, he’d expected his usual friends to be waiting—Remus, Marlene, Lily, maybe even a few other.

He didn’t expect you.

And you weren’t there, though he was welcomed with a rally of loud cheers, applause, too hard pats on the back. He really was trying to enjoy the moment, honest, but it felt slightly incomplete. Because the only person he was looking forward to celebrating his victory with, was you.

Minutes had passed and they were still stood there, just barely a meter away from the doors of the changing room.

It was James who caught sight of you first, elbowing Sirius roughly in the ribs. Nodding his head in your direction, ”No way,” he whispered, grinning.

Barrelling through the curtains, you hunched over hands on your knees—panting breaths as your chest heaved. Marlene let out a low chuckle. “Huh. She actually came.”

Your voice came out tight, each word wheezed out. “So…so many—people”, inhaling deeply through your nose, “Got—got lost,” Eyes squeezing shut as you failed miserably to catch your breath.

Sirius blinked, momentarily stunned, before a slow, triumphant smirk spread across his face. You still hadn’t found the strength to look up. His feet carried him toward you without hesitation, and by the time he reached you, his grin was unstoppable.

“You made it,” he said, a touch smug, but there was something else beneath it—undeniably soft. Hand reaching out to him in desperate purchase, he caught it, bringing his other hand gently around your waist—stabalising you, as you rested your weight on him.

You cracked one eye open, still huffing out your breath. “Clearly.”

“Well, I’m honoured,” he drawled, tilting his head. “Didn’t think you’d run to me.”

Before you could muster up a proper retort, one hand shifted your shoulder, guiding you ever so slightly out of the way as James, Remus, and the others brushed past, leaving the two of you alone in the corridor.

Sirus waiting patiently for your breathing to steady, when you eventually stood up straight, his gaze was tender—a warmth spreading through his chest, feeling like he could finally relish in his victory.

He was looking down at you, the awareness of your proximity making your barely regulated heartbeat ring obnoxiously in your ears, breaths shallowing again—not from exertion, not from the running, but from him.

Arms still holding onto you, not tightly, not in a way that caged you in—just enough that if you wanted to move away, you could. Touch somehow firm and gentle, grounding, fingertips twitching ever so slightly against the fabric at your waist.

Instead, you looked up at him, swallowing past the dryness that inched up your throat—gaze heavy and burning. “You did amazing,” you murmured, voice softer than you’d meant, like the words weren’t quite enough for what you felt, “Really,” confession direct and sincere.

His lips parted, breath catching, eyes trained into yours. The teasing smirk he so often wore faltered, replaced with something deeper, something that sent heat curling low in your stomach.

“Mmm that’s high praise, Y/N.” His voice had dropped, slow and deliberate—honeyed, like he was savoring each word, letting them hang heavy in the air.

Sirius tilted his head, just slightly, gaze flickering—your eyes, your lips, back to your eyes. It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t careful. It was knowing, full of intention, and it made the prickling skin at the back of your neck travel, helplessly further down your spine.

Your fingers twitched at your sides, the urge to reach for him overwhelming, shoulders squeezing up, sucking in a breath smaller than you needed when he inched closer. The distance between you was shrinking, a measly sliver of space left.

He was giving you a chance to stop this.

You didn’t take it.

His hand tightened at your sides, just barely, and the moment you tipped your chin up—just the slightest bit, just enough—he was there.

The first touch of his lips was ghostly, so faint you wondered is was just his breath, inconceivably cautious, testing—savoring your moment before committing to it fully.

And then raising slightly to your toes, nose skimming his skin, that was all it took.

Sirius exhaled sharply through his nose, and the kiss deepened, urgent and needing, like he’d been waiting for this longer than he was willing to admit.

And he had.

His other hand found purchase at your jaw, fingers curling just beneath your ear, angling your face as he pressed closer—so close you could taste the lingering remnants of triumph on his lips.

The arch of your feet began to burn at the stretch.

You barely registered when your hands found his jumper, curling into the damp fabric, trying to close a non-existent gap between you. Pulling him in as you pushed your feet to press firmly into the ground beneath you—his neck craning further down chasing you, unwilling to breakaway. He smiled against your mouth, he couldn’t help himself, kissing you was the easiest thing in the world, second-nature.

He prayed this moment wouldn’t end.

Lips plush and warm against his, the echoes of his teammates’ cheers lost, one palm slipping so intuitively into the dip of your neck, fingertips entwining with the strands at nape—basking in you, like you were a small slice of heaven.

When he finally pulled away, he didn’t go far, forehead resting against yours, his breath fanning against your lips. His smile had returned now, still bright, but softer—contented.

“Well,” he murmured, voice still hushed, “I suppose that’s a fair prize.”

You scoffed, but your lips were still tingling, wanting, your fingers were still curled into him. “Oh, shut up, Black.”

He laughed, vibrant and victorious, and just this once—you let him have it.

#marauders era #fluff #hp marauders #harry potter #sirius black x reader #sirius fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius fic #sirius x reader #sirius x slytherin!reader #sirius black #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #marauders fanfic #aetherraeysworks

436 notes · View notes

theglassofmiddleearth · 3 months ago

Note

Hello! Could you write about Task Force 141 with a reader who is blind but navigates through echolocation? Clicking her tongue, producing sound.

Imagine a blind read who uses echolocation Task Force 141 due to traumatic injury.

Masterlist

Y’know how Elsa said ‘The cold never bothered me anyways.’

Well, the same could be said for Reader! but for the dark.

Imagine a Reader! who uses echolocation to navigate.

Reader! Has saved many a mission with her talent. Her unique skill has earned her the nickname of Death Angel (those alien creatures from A Quiet Place)

Reader! gets called Angel by Soap and Kyle quite often. When off duty she wears a white blindfold, signifying impartial justice. (just like the ones angels are depicted to wear). However on missions? Reader! holds one over Ghost for intimidating.

The first time they met Reader! dressed for combat even Ghost was unnerved. Reader! had arrived decked out in black, wearing a dirty grey mask (it's clean) over her eyes. There was a red substance that looked to be seeping through what would be her eye sockets.

‘Uh, you must be Sargent L/N.’ Captain Price said in a slightly unnerved tone that only Ghost picked up on.

‘Yes sir that's me. I’ve been lent to the 141 for this specific mission. I hear you need someone to navigate the catacombs.’ Reader! nodded, pointing a thumb at herself. ‘I’ll get you guys through to the other side to your extraction point. Just stay quiet and don’t shoot anything unless I say so and we’ll be fine.’

‘Sorry te ask this lass but, can ye see through yer blindfold?’ A thick Scottish accent filtered into her ears.

‘Ah, I can’t see actually, I’m blind.’ She grinned, lifting up her blindfold a little so they could see just a hint of the of the wound area.

A collective slight gasp rang through the group, while the largest man stayed quiet.

‘It’s not a big deal, one of the missions we went on, my task force was captured and long story short, it’s easier for me to concentrate when I can't see.’ She shrugged, giving them a sly smile.

‘What do you mean?’ The lowest voice grumbled, a welcomed sound to Reader!’s ears.

‘Ah, you’ll see.’ She smirked, tapping under her left eye.

‘Come on, let’s get going. It’s going to be sundown soon and I don’t wanna catch the crazies.’ She turned, turning towards the steps that led down to a city of bones.

The tunnels were close, the smell was of old pages, dusty and damp. The 141 swept their lights across the piles of bones with tensed bodies. They were nearing the shut off point.

Reader! raised a hand, causing the group to come to a halt.

‘My time to shine boys.’ She whispered, ‘Lights out.’

The men reluctantly flicked off their headlights and switched to night vision. Reader! hummed, and let out a breath.

‘Don’t speak unless it’s important.’ Reader! mumbled, before she turned back towards the now bleak, dark tunnel.

The sound of boots quietly scuffing the ground, echoed the tunnels, rang in the men's ears,

Click clickclick click click

The men froze, swinging around with their guns raised.

‘That’s just me guys.’ The comforting voice of Reader! called out from the front.

Price and the rest turned around, slightly embarrassed.

‘Right. Carry on.’ Price muttered, gesturing for the men to follow her.

Reader! continued clicking, navigating the tunnels and avoiding people whenever possible until Reader! suddenly holds up a closed fist.

In front of them to the left side was a room, dimly lit.

Whispering could be heard, muttering and a very soft chanting of at least 5 people.

Reader! clicks one more time before showing 5 fingers, then gestured for them to stay low and sneak past.

The group silently slipped by the open entryway, ignoring the people inside dressed in red robes. Their orders were to get to the other side and if they could help it, not shoot anyone.

After successfully slipping past the unknown group, Reader! continued her clicking, sweeping her gun, across the stones. The group squeezed through holes, ducked below low ceilings and trudged forward. They didn’t encounter any more people. Reader had successfully led them out of the catacombs and back to the surface undetected.

The entire group breathed out a sigh of relief when they emerged from a sewer grate, the moon was high.

‘Not bad guys! Just in time too! Lets get the hell out of here. I need a shower.’ Reader! allows Captian Price to take the lead to the extraction point, following behind the rest of the group.

‘Mate, she’s like a bat, that was so cool. A velvety voice complimented her quietly.

‘Ye blasted fool, she can hear ye. That’s her whole thing.’ The Scottish voice groaned, a loud smack resounded.

‘I like your blindfold.’ The lowest voice said, seemingly amused.

‘Thanks LT I like yours too.’ Reader! smiles, giving the voice a thumbs up.

‘Hm, very good.’ The man rumbled in mirth.

618 notes · View notes

occamstfs · 5 months ago

Text

Talismen IV: Deliverer

Alex does a few deliveries before meeting Nicky for lunch. His should be familiar route launches men into new lives as slobs, handymen, hairy tops, and twinks. All the while he struggles to understand the reality before him and his own changing form and his strange position in this new world.

Yowza that’s a long one, as stated it’s kind of a bunch of mini TF’s in a longer story though! In the order presented in the description :) Also I did end up including a gender change since it seemed there was some interest! Worry not, it's all very gay haha! The final poll will go up Sunday the 22nd and run for a week this time. Had quite a bit of fun writing this one, hope you all enjoy the penultimate chapter of Talismen! -Occam

Alex had just returned from another delivery to the sweet couple of bears next door when he received a text from his friend, Nicky. [Heyoo, when are you on lunch? Si’s meeting me for coffee in a bit right next to ur place if u wanna join~] Checking the time, Alex thinks he’ll probably have one more order before getting to clock off and tells Nicky as much.

Already waiting alone in the cafe, the inadvertent magus’ eyes glimmer their unnatural red as he opts to cast a spell the old fashioned way and summon his friend by ordering some rangoons for himself. What better way to get what you want than to ask for it.

Nicky smiles as he sees Alex reply [Should be good ! Zhao’ll probably have me do one more but I’ll be quick~] Getting in line the man’s fingers flex unknowingly as he whispers under his breath and winks to no one, “Yeah yeah, you’d better dude- Speed it up for me.” rather than typing this, he sends some in-joke emoji, totally unaware of the almost imperceptible red mist that falls from his mouth and shoots through the doors of the cafe towards the nearby delivery man.

It hits him just as he enters Wok’N’Talk, he shivers as it flows into him, lightning his dark brown enough to be black eyes for but a moment as the few hairs on his arm stand on end. He pauses as the bizarre staticky, pent-up sensation fills him, though not for long as he’s just as soon assailed by the owner calling him to get back to work, “小伙子! (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man!) Alex! The phone is blowing up! Can you do one more run before lunch?”

“Just one?” Alex takes in the scene as he sees Zhao nervously gulp at the still printing orders, continuing to pile up. He well knew how the older man operates and figured implicitly offering to help more would butter him up enough to at the very least get the easiest jobs left on the table, “感谢上帝 (Gǎnxiè shàngdì/Thank god) for you Alex, there are two orders very very close- Do you think you can do them at once?” Alex nods and checks the addresses before being interrupted, “Ēn- ah! I forgot one just came in and they asked for you by name Alex-” He sheepishly looks at his young employee, “Would you mind?”

Checking it to find it’s clearly from Nicky he rolls his eyes and prepares to harangue his friend for piling more work on him. For now he simply acquiesces with a deep nod and Zhao comes over with the horde of takeout he’s to deliver. Alex tries to wave off his boss as the older man pats him on the back, “What would we do without you 小伙子- (Xiǎohuǒzǐ/Young Man-) No wonder they asked for you too eh?” Alex tilts his head as he sees a dreamy look appear in the owner’s eyes as he inhales the faintest wisp of red fog. At the same time he feels the man’s arm go limp on his back. Immediately concerned, he leans in to catch the man before he trips only to hear him whisper, “You always were one of my best boys.”

The delivery boy almost flinches back as his words are joined with loud pop music descending upon the restaurant, a stark shift from the traditional instrumentals Zhao prefers. Every inch of the place is suddenly painted in a red haze as the overhead lighting tints crimson. Alex looks up to see Zhao suddenly standing at the counter, “Mr. Zhao is- what is happening!?” He sees wrinkles disappear from his face as he removes his tie, “Why, dear Alex- What do you mean? Do you not long to be one of my 肌肉 (muscle)Jirou Heroes?” Alex backs away as he sees the man reach out and a leash appears in his hands. Smirking, the owner continues, “Tell him Xian.”

Alex didn’t see his closest friend on staff standing there before now, perhaps he wasn’t. Just as off put as the delivery man, the cook looks around, equally as uncomfortable and unsure of the surroundings as the delivery man by the door. That is, before Zhao twists his hand and the leash shoots to attach itself to Xian’s shirt collar, bending its fabric into a thick black bondage collar. The red lights flash as Alex’s friend grasps at the leash before his arms fall limp and his mouth falls agog. Fear fills the delivery man as he watches Xian swiftly contort as his leash is pulled taut.

Zhao just smirks as the once cook surges taller, sleeves immediately bursting to nothing as arms perfect for their new line of work bulge into existence. Pecs made to be oiled and abs made to be rubbed punch into existence. Each distinct muscle presses larger as Xian puts his arms behind his back, standing at attention until his boss, his owner, suggests otherwise. Alex covers his mouth in horror and grimaces as his stomach turns from seeing his friend’s body contort into a titan, into pure sex appeal. He tries to ignore the desire that fills him as he can’t help but stare at Xian. The leashed man briefly looks to Zhao for permission to speak, “Why are you scared Alex, just give in.”

His voice is stone cold and deep, raspy while betraying no emotion. Alex moves his hand to cover his eyes and bring it further away from a crotch that pulses with need. He clenches his eyes shut to hide the red light that seeps in through his fingertips as his chest tightens. Skipping breaths, he swears he feels his own chest beginning to grow just like Xian’s. “No, nono-” Alex clutches at his shirt and feels his chest burning, bulging into his hand. He struggles to tug at his shirt as his biceps press awkwardly against the new chest, making it clear that they too are thicker. Totally overwhelmed he stares at hands that contort larger, fingers stretch and palms widen. He stares at hands that are not his own and then he blinks. And all is normal.

“Yo Alex, you alright dude?” He feels the fan hanging above the door blow air against dried tears on his face. Xian calls out from the window into the kitchen, “Sure you don’t need an early lunch?” looking around he’s reminded of how short-staffed they are before continues, “I mean, no one else can do it but-” While unable to compartmentalize really, he can certainly perform normalcy enough to fool a man half a dozen yards away, “Yeah no problem dude! Just uh-” he sees a flash of Xian’s face sharpening to stone and harshness of his echoing bass, Alex’s voice cracks as he continues, “just spAced out- I’ll be back after lunch!”

Forcing a smile, he grabs the delivery bags and runs as fast as he can manage into the streets. Stumbling out of eyesight he takes deep breaths of fresh air. What kind of episode was that? Knowing where the first delivery is, he starts the trip into the apartment building next door, home of all their number one customers, and a haven of normalcy that for good reason Alex is desperately craving.

Already rationalizing whatever as his being overworked the young man doesn’t take a second to look behind as the cute neon sign Zhao has kept for years tinges red as it begins to shift from Wok’N’Talk to Jirou Heroes. Just as he saw, Xian stands behind the counter, bloating and flexing as the interior of the shop corrupts from an almost stereotypical Chinese food restaurant into this new, younger Zhao’s take on a muscle cafe.

Alex is thankfully none the wiser as he keeps his nose on the grindstone to maintain at least the illusion of someone not mid-psychotic break, as anyone who sees prescient images of the future must to survive. Riding up past happy husband Rich Adam’s apartment he squirms to try and ignore the feeling that his clothes are tighter than usual. It’s in his head, he’s just stressed. And yet, were anyone there to see him they could not help but notice as the elevator continues to climb, his sleeves grow almost snug and pecs begin to give his torso profile it has never held before. Getting a little sweaty he puffs stuffy air into his shirt and swears it’s just nerves.

Frog in his throat he clears it as the elevator finally reaches the sixth floor. DING. The guys’ll offer him some water. He pauses to judge the heft of their order, weird that they’re all here today? Game day’s usually Friday, he thought. Well, he shrugs to himself- guess they’re allowed to hang out when they’re not role playing, or whatever.

Alex sighs to himself as he makes it to their apartment door. Content to finally be back in sorts, he takes a moment to himself to ensure he’s indeed all there. Smiling wide just to feel the strain on his face, clenching his teeth to feel the pressure on his jaw. He takes a deep breath and ignores how his shirt tugs just a hair more against his stomach before knocking.

Despite himself his raps on the door are quiet, he doesn’t notice as just like from Nicky, red mist falls from his mouth and slinks under the door. The humble host of this little gathering reaches for the door knob and just before turning it he freezes. Eyes flash red as just like Xian, just like Alex, he is struck with something inevitable. It then shoves past him as soon as it enters, tendrils launching out to the other occupants, to the meek miniature painter and a pair of friends having a not-quite-lovers spat about their campaign.

But first and foremost it fills Ian who after a moment that lasts forever and never happened at all he returns to his mind, shivers and opens the door. “Heyyy Alex! Didn’t know you work Wednesdays too!” Alex sheepishly smiles, laughing and follows the man in. Despite meaning something worlds different when Zhao said it, the delivery boy was indeed popular with the Wok’s customers. Alex looks down and squints as he swears he can see, almost like string, a red trail into the apartment. The red brings images back to his mind of Xian growing out of his apron and fills him with nerves that he’s about to have another episode he tries to gulp and is reminded of his thirst. Forcing his mouth into a docile smile he doesn’t even begin to try to hide the fear in his eyes as he asks, “Hey Ian could I trouble you for a glass of water?”

The host doesn’t turn to look at Alex as he answers, his own eyes already glassy and distracted, “Yeah yeah, uhh- I’ll go grab it for ya. Think I hear a leak or somethin’ in there anyway,” Alex furrows his brow as he watches the man saunter away, his upper body dragged behind legs walking with a cocky gait that Ian would never deign to perform. Alex clutches at his chest and for the second time feeling pecs that have begun to amass once more he is filled with despair, though this time he feels he can get a jump on things. He can stop the changes. Looking back at the red chain ahead he can almost see footprints that lead toward the room where Wes, the painter, works.

He has seen what happens, he couldn’t save Xian then, but surely now. Surely he can stop anyone else from changing. Maybe you’re not supposed to go along with it, and maybe it’s already too late, but fuck man he can try and help. Propelled forward with purpose alien, Alex unknowingly stomps onward precisely where glowing red footprints lie. With each step forward his feet grow to fill them as his calves and thighs stretch larger with his all-consuming desire to get there faster. His shoes change to something bulkier, more fashionable as the soles of his feet grow wider and toes stretch longer, filling them before they simply burst larger to catch up every new step. His work pants are field to the bursting with powerful thighs now laced with veins as he wills them thicker, stronger, as he wills himself to be faster.

And then he’s there, Wes is quietly working as he often is. Though Alex often delivers the party their meals on game days, rarely is he ever alone with Wes, but the man seems a quiet sort. When the painter sees the man enter he smiles and offers a miniature to look at, “Ah! Nice to see you Alex!” The thin Wes’ eyes brighten with a smile, veiling the red behind his irises, “How’s this lil guy look?” Alex struggles to quiet his heavy breathing and temper his clear overreaction, clearly nothing is actually happening, he’s being delusional. Were he to look down at his lower body to find his pants rapidly changing texture and rising to become shorts and exposing his new beefy calves he’d surely maintain the right level of fear. Instead catching his breath he leans in close to inspect Wes’ work.

“Woah huh, yeah. That looks huh, crazy good Wes!” He can’t imagine the precision required for such deliberate brush strokes. Wes must be a man of great patience. And then he blinks and there is nothing in the man’s hand. In fact that cannot be the hand of this shy artist. Instead he’s staring at a meaty paw and punching himself for losing sight of his self-assigned mission as he sees the unreal take hold of reality once more. He hears a burp tear through the air as the man in front of him guffaws, “buUURRP- Huhhuh! Sorry bruh, didn’ mean to getcha with that one huh!” He can’t tear his eyes away as the man's arms grow thick with fat and muscle in equal part as he clumsily wipes red paint on his beyond ratty shirt.

The sleeves disappear as it morphs into a sweat and paint covered cutaway. All the while the man continues oppressively laughing. He scratches at his now exposed pits and Alex stares with fear as with each stroke his fingers drag through more, thicker, darker hair. Apathetic as he simultaneously mars his sticky pits with paint and coats his ungainly fingers with a musk that now seeps through the air. His legs similarly burst free from their confines as they are covered with thick curls from his newly bulging package to his lengthening hairy toes. Wes goes to grab his paint cup and raises it to drink. Alex doesn’t even have a chance to react as it shifts into a beer can.

The paint covered slob downs whatever swill left in the can in one gulp before clumsily crushing it against his bulky thigh and tossing it to the floor, “What’s wrong fucker, look like ya’ve seen a ghost huhuh! Oh waiiit shit you got our food, ya?” Again Alex doesn't speak up or even move as the barrel chested man barrels past him to get to the Chinese food left in a heap by the entrance. Wes’ meaty hand forced on Alex’s chest leaves a sickly red stain, launching his top to begin its change from a plain uniform to more of a slutty crop top, one perfect to display Alex’s new meatier arms as they hang lower from shoulders that widen with every heaving breath. Seeing the man leave he is filled with an urgency to move himself, he needs to get out of here.

He needs to- his eyes flash from the door to Wes tearing through the delivered takeout, to the red trail bleeding towards the living room, before finally landing on the kitchen. His throat burns yet again, what a thoroughly unimportant need, but one that nonetheless must be sated. Despite the world around him, poor Alex simply needs a drink.

Unfortunately for the struggling delivery man, upon entering the kitchen he only finds more otherworldly horror. Alex is promptly torn between instincts of flight and fight as what he sees fills him with fear. Thoroughly stuck, he sees a massive man struggling to free himself from underneath the kitchen sink. Despite knowing this cannot be the case, when he stares at the cut abdomen of this figure wrenching away at a pipe he simply knows it to be Ian. Alex tries to jam his eyes shut and picture the friendly man who greeted him upon his entry.

Unfortunately, as soon as he does so the only thing his psyche can do is imagine the piecemeal conversion of his acquaintance into the pornstar posing as a handyman before him. He sees the smiling eyes of Ian go vacant as a dull, horny hunger fills him. Sifting through a lifetime lived, he sees the man pretend to stretch and reveal the lowest row of abs that now punch out of his stomach. Thick hands reaching out to massage shoulders as every soul he stands in front of seems to him nothing more than the chance for some release. In the most immediate moments of Ian’s new life, Alex sees the brute grow frustrated with adjusting his constantly throbbing package through his pants before simply tearing them off as if they were nothing.

The delivery man is then pulled back to the now. Frozen watching the man before him, grease covered forearms barely visible beside a sweat covered meaty chest. His deep, dumb voice echoing out from the cupboard, “Yeah you shoulda called me out here weeks ago dude- Gonna have to be coming out, like, uhhh, every day next week probably.” Alex fails to gulp again as he can almost hear the wanting smirk on Ian’s face in that dark crawlspace. Seeing a cup of water Ian must’ve laid out for him in his last moments of lucidity, Alex quickly downs it before responding, “Uhm, Ia-” he clears his throat as it remains itchy, only for it to resound deeper, “Ian, you- this is your apartment.”

The handyman apparent struggles to remove himself from under the counter, flexing performatively and humping the air as he ambles, bumping his head a good few times before his escape. Each time a throatier grunt ushers forth as his arms tangle and his shoulders grow unfortunately larger, almost wedging him intractably. Alex bites his lip as he is struck with an urge to help only waylaid by the concern that were he to get closer he’d accelerate the kitchen captive’s changes, or worse yet, spread them to himself. Inching closer he discovers it’s quite the former as with each sparing movement closer towards Ian, hair begins to cover him just as it did to the now-slovenly Wes.

Pubes thicken and race up his waist as a jungle of hair grows thicker underneath arms that seem to be in a state of perpetual flexing. Acne and curls dance across his meaty chest as he finally disengages from the kitchen sink. Head now in the free air Alex watches as a mustache bursts from his upper lip. The man Ian has become dully looks around the kitchen and laughs as he indeed recognizes it as his own. Alex struggles to look away from the cock that now bobs free in the open air, having finally burst free from the strained compression shorts. Watching as the man scratches his stubbly chin with his pipe grease-covered hand as he struggles to produce some wanton thought, Alex wonders what he’s even doing here.

Where once nothing but horror filled the delivery man’s mind upon seeing such transformation, now he is struck with the absurdity of the situation. Watching two friendly, thoughtful men morph into slobs beyond imagination Alex can’t help but wonder why. When Wes enters the kitchen using his paint covered mitts to fist loose fried rice into his mouth, spilling it all over the floor, Alex decides to simply wash his hands of whatever this bizarre situation is. He hears the two dullards talk in their fried voices, “duuude put some pants on we’ve got company-” “Ah it’s just Alex sure he doesn’t mind seeing my balls huhuh!”

On the way out he passes a hall mirror and for the first time sees what the workings of this impossible realm have done to him. He can’t help but grin as he sees the heavy arms now totally exposed. His thick but still soft hands trace his thin waist and play with the few hairs that make up a treasure trail. His skin burns with sensitivity as his fingers leave an unmistakable red trace as they dance on his tight stomach. He fights the urge to continue upward towards a chest that hangs clearly in between his new pistons though stays strong, in a way, and starts for the door. He has still kept his mind and surely when he leaves all will be normal. This isn’t happening and he’s not about to grope himself in a customer’s apartment.

And yet, when he hears the sounds coming from Ian’s small den he can’t help but take a look. He remembers Wes mentioning the pair had been arguing over the direction of the campaign but clearly Tyler and Chuck have worked out their differences, as it were. Alex rolls his eyes at his presumably repressed psyche having lost the plot of whatever episode this is as he sees the once dungeon master lean in to aggressively make out with the player who had long been yearning for some romance in their sessions.

Alex can’t help but allow his hands to inch towards his own wanting crotch as he stands to watch. His eyes flash red as he sees the room as it was when he entered the apartment. The argument in the living room abruptly ending as the men are struck with swaths of red mist flown in from under the doorway, light from the afternoon deepens and shifts to stage lighting as if the den was only a set. Chuck jokes about more sensual and sex-themed RPGs as he puts his arms behind his head, ignoring as his hairline rapidly disappears and sweat stains appear in his pits. Tyler licks his lips as the small crystal on a string he never leaves home without quickly thickens and grows heavy as the crystal itself shifts into a lock he hasn’t the key for.

Both men shift awkwardly as they are immediately struggling against a primal hunger that rolling dice could never satiate. They pull at their clothes soaking heavy with sweat and oil, Ty’s hair shortens into something barely longer than the new hair that begins to pattern his chest. The player gasps as his master’s new beard scratches against his own rough cheeks, when his head is forced down to the man's pillow chest he is torn between desires to lick and lavish or to bite and tear. The pair then fall onto the stained couch as Alex simply continues to watch. Unable to look away, unable to remove his own sweaty palm from a crotch that begins to strain against his shorts. From afar Alex begins to understand his place.

When his fingers catch in newly thick pubes he suddenly comes to his senses and falls away from the men moaning as they struggle to strip from clothes that are almost tight enough to act as bondage for the fucking pair. Alex stumbles backwards, grabbing the remaining orders he has left to deliver with the hand he didn’t begin to publicly masturbate with and sprints from this true hellhole of an apartment, hoping more than anything that just like at Zhao’s it was all in his head. Just an imagination that has suddenly become overactive and obsessed with transformation. He’d heard of the fetish at least, stranger things have happened, probably?

Free at last from the slobs and exhibitionists that clinging to hope are actually just friends chatting over takeout once more, Alex contemplates just turning himself in for his own safety. Surely he’s not expected to just continue doing his job in the middle of what can only be a psychotic break. At the same time, what if he is indeed some courier of change. What if he is the one doing this somehow.

Looking down he sees himself at the very least wearing suitable clothes once more, tracing up his shirt once more however he finds that his form has not been spared. His skin is warm to the touch and the muscle beneath is tight, powerful. He feels thicker hair trailing up from his pubes up decorating abs that he never spent a second working for. A chest that would require him to simply live a different life to earn.

Eyes on the ground he sees shoes a few sizes wider and pants catching on his thick thighs and powerful calves. So too does he see a path forward, laid out, inevitable. At once he understands that he is not truly acting, he is but a messenger, a deliverer, a shepard. What is happening is happening and he must be there to see it through. He is a psychopomp of the changing world and avoiding it, if that’s even an option, can only bring ill. Coming to terms with what he has seen and will see, for the first time he allows himself to grapple with the powerful, primal fulfillment that witnessing these transformations has brought him. Pleasure beyond what he thought was possible. It is no wonder the men did not fret as they were molded into their new forms, it felt, good.

When he remembers the final delivery of the day his curiosity is piqued, another couple. Jen and Rob. Through and through gay he wonders what the next situation has in store as he begins to walk down the long hallway, his footsteps silent leave a trail behind. While in Ian’s apartment he was following a path laid out for him, now that he has embraced the reality of this unreality, now that his will has aligned to get this over with, quickly, he holds the power within himself. Just as Nicky does, just as Timothy did. He steps forward precisely where his feet are supposed to land.

Before he knows it, as if he’s willed it closer, Alex stands outside the apartment. All the while he has continued to grow. His pecs inflate and traps swell and while his tee has expanded a few x’s larger to hide his bloating figure. His pants, having torn a few times over, have given up the ghost to become compression shorts that allow thighs thicker than his head and calves that could kill to remain on permanent display. Feeling his biceps strain against the sleeves of this pump cover that should be too large for any man, he toys with the idea of simply removing it.

Before knocking on the door he smirks as his mind flashes to the shitty man that lies inside, Rob won’t know what to do with himself when he sees the little prudish delivery boy has ballooned into something better than man. Feeling his package strain against his shorts as his thighs flex from the simplest movement, Alex prepares for the first time with intention, though not volition, begin a scene of transformation. He prepares to usher the couple into their new selves, his mind can’t help but skip forward and imagine some twinkish Rob being dominated. “Spoilers,” he whispers to himself grimly as he approaches the door, it opens without him even needing to beckon and he walks in with the couple’s lunch.

“Alex!” Jen cheers, her eyes alight with forced delight as she has clearly been in argument with her fiance, as he often finds them. She stands hands on the counter and her ever-frustrating partner sits on the couch playing Elden Ring, she motions for the delivery man to come in and finally her eyes land on the man who now stands a few heads taller than her. “Wha-,” her eyes flash red as her desires are more than clear to Alex, I want to be the man in the relationship. He doesn’t care all that much to explore the gender dynamics, nor does whatever power that moves through him as he sees the woman gasp and shiver as it becomes clear that she is a woman no longer. On the couch Rob complains.

“Babe what the fuck? Are you flirting with that little bitch to get a rise out of me?” At last Rob turns to inspect the pair standing in the doorway as he sees his fiancee rapidly bursting free from the tight top he whined at her, them, this morning to wear. Jen’s chest pulls inward as their upper body grows with strength they have always been discouraged to pursue, but never stopped hungering for. Hair prickles their chest as a sculpted patch bursts forth between heavy pecs and around nipples that have thankfully not decreased in size.

Below the belt it becomes clear that their, his, masculinity is not in question as Jen in the minds of every person present irrevocably becomes Jake. His hips jut forward against the kitchen counter as permanently shaved pubes race up to meet the garden of chest hair, and down to cover burgeoning balls that begin to fill his bloodstream with enough testosterone to make up for decades of hormonal imbalance. Hair growth is of course centered around a cock that would put any man to shame, the same could be said for Jake’s mind as he almost drools looking down at his new rod.

Stick thin arms become biceps that hide pits almost steaming with b.o. that a life ago she mocked Rob for having, now he simply delights in the new way to exercise his masculinity, his undeniable virility unto the world around him. Groping at his crotch Jake lets loose a deep moan as a new adams apple bulges out of a neck framed by traps still continuing to grow. Veins carrying changes through his growing form tinge red with every beat of his racing heart as for the first time pre drips from his new cock.

On the coach Rob struggles to rise as he sees his boyf- no not his, fiance? No. His eyes widen and he puffs up his chest as he struggles not to meet this obstacle like every one he has faced before now, brute force and a dim witted mind. Alex tilts his head and frowns before raising his hand and faster than anyone could possibly observe a red tendril shoots out, through Jake and into Rob, I want to be the man.

The man who has always been a man falls back and begins to writhe. Muscles barely honed begin to atrophy as the workings of the world fulfill Jake’s desires in the only way they care to. Rob’s stubbled chin begins to grow smooth and hairless as he begins his transformation into Jake’s trophy twink. His sweaty hands, sculpted to a playstation controller claw at the back of the couch as he struggles to climb up and see what is happening to Je-Jake. Fingers thin and nails shine with polish and attention. He feels his stomach contract as he gasps in desire as his, lover, has only continued to grow.

While his own chest and torso begin to suck in and smooth over, Jake’s has only continued to expand and amass power. Hair begins to pour from every pore on the new man as he bloats larger. Jake’s legs burn with power as his figure converts child bearing hips into dense powerful thighs and a waist that will allow him to keep his slutty twink bouncing for hours in bed. Meanwhile Robbie’s does precisely the opposite, waist thinning out to be easily grabbed and manhandled by his tank. Standing next Alex the man almost goes feral with the need to mount his mate as his rough hands clench the counter with a fury.

The already sparse hair on Robbie’s form sloughs off as Jake aggressively scratches at dense hair growing thicker in his pits before shifting to claw at his stubble as it becomes a thick messy beard on his face. Drool drips from his mouth as he groans with a voice that grows decibels deeper with each haphazard breath, Jake glowers at the feminine figure biting his lip as it bloats larger, moaning and posing on the couch as his hair lengthens and curls. It’s all Jake can do to avoid climbing like an animal over their kitchen island to pounce on the twink languishing on the couch, his skin softening and growing more supple by the second.

Alex watches disinterested as Rob grows thin, docile, hungry for pleasure that only Jake will be able to offer. He sees Jake become the man he always yearned to be, the man he was always going to be. In his mind's eye he sees the scene that will happen as soon as he leaves, as soon as he allows it. Furniture broken, not for the first time, as the pair fuck as if there was nothing else in the world but sexual fulfillment, perhaps there is nothing else in the world. Alex ponders the paths that the world may go down if this is to be the case, he searches for futures that don’t go down this route and struggles to find one.

Hearing Jake chomping at the bit, struggling with the urges of a new powerful pair of blue balls, and seeing Robbie’s mouth reflexively hang open with lustful abandon he understands that his work here is done. He nods at the new beast and Jake as he has always wanted jumps his fiance. Robbie is all too happy to be put in his place by a man who is more than he ever could be. Alex watches for a moment but despite his embrace, if not understanding, of his role in this tapestry, he knows he has work yet to do as his own form begins to ephemerally change.

He turns to leave and shuts the door behind him, barely dulling the sound of shattering glasses and fervent moans behind him. Down the hall he hears the festivities he set forth earlier have not stopped, in fact it sounds as if the neighbors to the apartment have joined in on the fun. Alex is sullen as he looks down the hallway, seeing tendrils launching forth from his footprints into each and every apartment passed. Masculine moans abound, deepening in some and rising higher in others. Flashes of cowboys getting creative with lasso, smoke seeping under door frames as once powerful executives try to hotbox their suite, pajamas shifting into uniforms before being removed with haste. Men fighting against their own changing lusts and bodies, and others who are more than happy to give into them. And Alex can do nothing but deliver, accelerate, and watch.

Something of a unique figure in this situation thanks to Nicky, Alex maintains his wits despite his urges to join in on the ‘fun��. Work yet to do, he flexes to simply use some of the energy building within him and his form graciously expands once more. His shorts turn to briefs which leave little at all to the imagination. Sighing, the melancholy psychopomp is nevertheless pleased with what an impressive figure he has become. Holding one final delivery in hand he sets off to the place he has all along said he would. Holding but a small package of rangoons with Nicky’s name on the receipt he takes the elevator down to the ground floor.

Alex pointedly doesn’t look towards Jirou Heroes as he exits onto the street, bestowed with whatever power Nicky unwittingly did, he is well aware of what he would see if he were to look anyway. With the solemnity of the reaper which he is, Alex walks into the cafe to see Simon has arrived ahead and broken the news less than gracefully. His beefy arms are around the catatonic haphazard spellcaster as Simon, kind but incable, tries to make right the impossible. Explain the incoherent, make Nicky aware of what is going on so they may work all of it out together. Alex purses his lips and hesitates before smiling morosely at his friend and offers forth the smallest bit of levity, “Rangoons for Nicky?”

To say his eyes fall is not accurate, his hands cover his mouth as he sees the direct handiwork of his twisted words. Where his irises should be there are only deep red pits, “This isn’t what I wanted. Why would I want any of this.” The Talisman he never truly asked for glows red enough to be seen through his shirt, Alex and Simon both see it and instantly understand that this is the true source of what happened at the gym, what is happening next door, what is happening in the cafe around them had they the bandwidth to notice.

In the eye of a hurricane of change, Simon grabs Nicky’s hand and squeezes, Alex puts his new meaty palm on his dear friend’s shoulder. Understanding there is no time to waste, Nicky bucks up and with the support of these two men he has irrevocably changed, opens his eyes and grabs at the talisman. Though not at all knowing what he should do, he knows and Alex assures him that it must be done right now. His hands tremble and his eyes tear up from the pressure, red tears dripping down his cheeks. And then he does what must be done.

Potentialities:

Ah poor poor Nicky, lotta pressure on the guy let’s see what he ends up doing! While the others have primarily been choosing between transformations these last lot are choosing the ending, all will hold transformations galore of course!

Post’ll go up on Sunday as usual but it’ll last a week as I’m probably going to take the week of Christmas off haha!

World Peace - 47.2%

Well now, is it not the real responsible thing when granted unlimited power to ensure that all problems are solved? What could go wrong when something already twisting desires and morphing every living being it can get its hands on receives explicit permission to work globally. Nothing untoward I’m sure.

Self-Sacrifice 26.7%

No time to think, alas the guilt ridden and noble Nicky says take me instead. Instantly we return to the mystical non-place where this all started. After a bit of chat, gambling, and discussion of what a big ask it is to not only end but undo the changes. The man who gave him the power to change it all decides what, or whom, his sacrifice is worth.

Pass the Buck 26.1%

Alex and Simon are here aren’t they? Surely a man already morosely writing off the world and another whose mind has been described as ‘gears barely turning’ a half-dozen times can figure something out.

#male tf #mental change #male transformation #muscle tf #hair growth #dumber #reality change #masculinization #musk tf #jockification #straight to gay #twinkification #himbofication #gender transformation #talismen #personality change #corruption #beard growth #gay transformation

412 notes · View notes

novvabee · 6 months ago

Note

could you write about the mauraders when they go to the shrieking shack for the full moon and there’s another werewolf? Idk something like that

ooooo, this gave me a really fun idea, hope you enjoy 💗

The Deer, The Dog, And The Two Wolves

summary: remus meets another wolf

word count: 2.3k

“I mean, did you see her? Talk about fit!” Sirius laughed, walking through the portrait into their common room. He was talking about the new girl, the girl who had started halfway through the semester.

Poor girl was paraded in front of the whole school for her sorting. She was obviously embarrassed and uncomfortable to be the center of the whole school’s attention.

“Too bad she was sorted into Slytherin,” Sirius said as he threw himself across a sofa in the middle of the common room, “I would have liked to get to know her.” This made Lily and Mary scoff from the opposite couch in front of the fireplace.

“Why’s she starting in the middle of the semester?” James asked.

“Maybe she just moved here.” Lily supplied.

“Lucky her,” James said, “she just missed midterm exams.” Everyone chuckled at that.

While everyone was conversing and laughing, Remus had dread looming over him. His muscles began to ache and he could feel the effects of the approaching full moon. The moon would be tomorrow night, but Remus had been feeling it all week. After a while of chatting, all he wanted to do was crawl into bed.

“I am quite tired,” Remus said, standing and motioning for the boys to follow. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow?”

“Yeah! Just meet us in hogsmeade.” Mary says.

Remus nods, the other boys say their goodnights and they all make their way up to their room. As soon as the door was shut behind them, Remus was falling into bed.

“What is the plan for tomorrow?” James asked, they usually had no trouble sneaking out and waiting in the shrieking shack for Remus, but this time, the girls insisted the boys come with them to hogsmeade for the day. Only Lily knew about Remus, so sneaking away was going to be harder than normal.

“I was thinking I could cut away from the group with Remus and we could head to the shack while you help Lily distract the others.” Sirius said, having planned that out fairly quickly. “That sound alright?” he asked Remus.

Remus was too tired, too weary to answer vocally so he just nodded. The boys looked at him with pity, they knew how he was feeling, so they just opted to let him sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

The day spent in Hogsmeade was lovely, despite the pain and tenseness that Remus felt, he still enjoyed himself.

They made their way from shop to shop, buying candies from Honeydukes and gadgets from Zonkos. The girls begged to stop by Gladrags and the boys reluctantly agreed.

“Fine,” James said, rolling his eyes, “but only because I need a new tie.”

The group piled into the shop, the girls immediately rushing towards the new dresses and coats, Remus and Sirius turned to browse the rings and necklaces.

Remus felt… odd. He felt the hairs on his neck stand and a chill run down his spine, immediately set on edge. He had never felt this before, a new experience for him. He put himself on high alert, scanning the shop, but seeing or sensing nothing out of the ordinary, just that unfamiliar tingle.

“Dear Merlin,” Sirius muttered from beside him. Remus followed his gaze across the shop to see Regulus. It seemed like the brothers noticed each other at the same time, because Regulus turned to his group of friends, and they swiftly exited.

“Still in a spat?” Remus asked Sirius.

Sirius huffed and replied “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Remus left it alone, seeing as the day was going very well, he didn’t want to ruin it in any way.

James got his tie and the girls all bought different clothes and were ready to continue on. It was getting later in the day, the sun would set soon, so Remus wanted to finish the trip.

“Butterbeer, anyone?” he asked and the whole group perked up and started down the street towards The Three Broomsticks.

Remus opened the door for the group, allowing everyone in, before stepping in himself. Once inside, that grating feeling was back. He looked around again, but was met with the same outcome, there was nothing awry. Confused, he just figured the moon was messing with his senses.

The group found a table towards the back of the pub and they all squeezed in. Remus found himself sandwiched between Marlene and James. The whole bunch was lively as ever, laughing and joking, talking about everything and nothing at all.

The witch who ran the pub asked the table for their orders and James ordered butterbeers for the whole table. So typical of James, to order and pay for everyone, spend his fortune on his friends and a good time.

Mary gasped from across the table, making everyone turn their attention to her. “Don't look now,” she said, “but that new girl is sitting with the Slytherins.”

The whole table snapped their necks toward where Mary was looking.

“I said don’t look!” she squealed.

She was right, the new girl was sitting next to Dorcas and across from Regulus, looking like she was in a deep conversation with them. But, almost like she felt their eyes on her, she looked over to them. The whole group tried to turn and make it look like they weren’t just staring at her(it was so obvious), but she caught Remus’s eye before he could look away.

It was like she looked directly into his soul, and there was that feeling again. Remus could have sworn she sat up straighter, taken by surprise for some reason. She narrowed her eyes at him, looked him up and down, then returned to her conversation.

Odd…

Their butterbeers arrived and Remus put the interaction aside, deciding to just enjoy the rest of the time he had with his friends. Once the group finished, Sirius casually yawned and turned to Remus. “Fancy a smoke?” he asked. Remus nodded and exited the pub with Sirius.

They began their journey to the shrieking shack, Remus feeling the nip in the air, but also that feeling. He took a cigarette out of his jacket pocket, handed one to Sirius, then lit them both. Perhaps a smoke would ease the odd sensation. Walking in comfortable silence, taking drags of their cigarettes, the boys eventually ended up at the shack.

Remus dropped the butt of his cigarette and snuffed it out with his shoe, Sirius taking one last drag, then doing the same.

“Now,” Sirius started, “James will meet up with us but it’s business as usual right?”

Remus nodded. “Yeah, just try to stay in the forest like normal.”

“Gotcha,” Sirius replied. “Gotta lock you in now, Moons.”

Remus opened the door to the shack and stepped inside. He pulled the door closed and heard Sirius mutter the spell to magically seal him in until he transformed, then one of them would open the door and they would spend the whole night racing and playing in the woods in their animal forms.

Remus didn’t enjoy a lot of his lycanthropy, but being able to run in an animalistic way with his best mates, that was one thing he did enjoy.

Remus made his way upstairs to the old, beaten up bedroom, and layed on the bed. He began waiting for the transformation.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Something was off, Sirius could tell. He and James, who had broken away from the group finally, were sitting at the edge of the forest.

They heard Remus transforming, which was never easy, but this time it seemed that he was having a particularly rough time. James winced from beside Sirius and shook his head. Once they were certain he was fully changed, James magically unlocked the door.

They both transformed into their animagus form, but Remus didn’t come out. Sirius and James looked at each other and Sirius went inside to check on Remus, coax him out of the shack.

Sirius padded upstairs, expecting to see the wolf destroying something or clawing at the furniture, but he was met with a completely different scene entirely. The wolf was pacing around the room in a circle, sniffing the air and whining. When it saw the black dog that had entered, it perked up, but still looked around, as if looking for someone else.

The dog raced downstairs, goading the wolf to chase it. The wolf gave in easily and followed the dog down the stairs and out of the house where they were met with the large stag. The wolf tackled the deer, rolling and play-fighting until the wolf’s ears perked up. It snapped it’s head to the forest and bolted.

The dog and the deer had no chance to wrangle it before it slipped through the tree line and into the dark forest beyond. The dog and the deer looked at each other and then dashed after the wolf.

Sirius didn't understand what had gotten into the wolf, but raced as fast as he could to catch up.

That is when the howl came from deep in the forest. Everything stopped, the whole forest seeming to be silenced. Then the answering howl sounded.

The deer and the dog followed the sound to an opening in the forest, a small field with a large oak in the center. They expected to find Moony there, chasing something, but they were not expecting to see two wolves circling each other.

They hung back at the tree line, watching but ready to protect Remus if anything were to happen.

The other wolf was smaller, a female, but just as dangerous, still a werewolf.

The two wolves continued circling each other, tense. The smaller wolf noticed the dog and the stag at the forest’s edge, and growled, hackles raising. Moony stepped between her and his friends, protecting them, and growled deep back at her. The other wolf turned her attention to him now, focusing all her anger at him.

Moony wasn’t backing down, determined to protect the dog and the stag behind him. He clawed at her, catching her right under the eye. She wasted no time in returning the favor, and swiped right back at him, getting him good.

Moony, shocked, stepped back and sat down, like a dog asking for a treat. The other wolf blinked, then mirrored his actions. Moony pounced and ran off, the other wolf following, chasing.

They were playing.

The dog and the deer looked at each other, then back to the two wolves, then joined in.

It was slightly harder, keeping track of two wolves rather than just the one, but at least they could rough-house with each other and not be too afraid to hurt the other, like Remus often was with Sirius or James.

The two wolves raced each other and swam in the lake, the whole group having fun, until Sirius noticed the morning light. Dawn would break soon and Remus would transform back, they needed to get him back to the shack. Moony, however, was being more difficult than normal.

The moment Sirius and James tried to corral him and chase him back to the shack, Moony refused. He kept wandering over to the other wolf, trying to continue to play. So James and Sirius decided that both the wolves had to be wrangled into the shack, if that was the only way to get Remus back in.

That task was incredibly difficult, Moony bouncing all over the place and the other wolf threatening to snap at the boys if they got too close. They eventually managed to lock both the wolves in the shack with minimal damage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Remus woke on the floor of the bedroom feeling more tired than he had ever been after a full moon. He felt like he could sleep for ages. His aching body needed all the rest it could get.

Small moments from the night came back to him and suddenly…

He snapped his head toward the bed to see a sleeping figure curled up in the old and torn blankets. That feeling tingled the back of his neck again.

The figure sat straight up, feeling the same feeling. Remus knew that face, the new girl. She made direct eye contact with him, then quickly scanned the room, unsure of where she was.

He could see she was scared, so he calmly said “It’s ok, you’re ok.”

She looked at him unsure. “W-where are we?” she asked, voice a little raw.

“This is called the shrieking shack, it's where I come… to transform.” Remus answered, still trying to calm her and get her to trust him.

“You’re the wolf I was with last night?” she asked, more like putting the pieces together.

Remus nodded. “My name’s Remus.” He smiled.

“Y/N” she answered.

“Nice to meet you Y/N.” He said, noticing how she seemed to start relaxing.

“And… that dog and the deer?” she asked.

Remus chuckled, not knowing exactly how to answer that. “They’re harmless.”

She nodded and they sat in silence for a minute before she spoke again. “I didn’t know there were others… like me.” she said.

Remus didn’t know how to talk about this with anyone, he had never met another werewolf. All he could seem to do was nod.

“H-how long have you been… you know…” she asked timidly.

Remus smiled sadly. “‘I was bitten when I was really young, about three.” He answered.

Her eyes widened and she gasped. “Three!?” she looked in disbelief. “I am so sorry, you’ve had to deal with this for a long time…”she trailed off. “I was bitten a couple years ago. That's why I transferred schools, the other one kicked me out, thought that I was a danger to the other students.”

“I am so sorry,” this time it was Remus’s turn to feel bad.

She smiled sadly. “It’s ok, besides, now I know someone else like me.”

489 notes · View notes

fashionteahouse · 7 months ago

Note

Can I get one where Paul imprinted on the hottest girl on the rez and all the pack had crushed on her at one point in their lives so when they are all out patrolling Paul keeps thinking back to when he and the reader slept together the pack can’t get that image out of their heads so when they are with their own imprints during their sexual activities they accidentally say readers name when they finish and the imprints get mad thinking something is going on kinda like that episode

yes! this honestly seems so juicy to write 😭 hope you enjoy :)

rewind - paul x reader

Admiring from a far, each pack member imagined what it would be like if you said yes. They looked forward to seeing you around the rez. You knew them kind of well from growing up together. Annoyance was there when you knew the inevitable question would come, “Can I take you out?”

Everyone was turned down. One after the next. It was confusing because it was rare for a very pretty girl to be single. You didn’t care about being in a relationship. You wanted to focus on your future. Something needed to stick out to you for you to gravitate towards it.

With rejection targeting all of his pack brothers, Paul for the first time was nervous about asking out a girl. After he shifted, he saw you walking with a friend in the city and bam! He felt like he could take the word into the palm of his hands and own it. He wanted to own it with you. You seen him around, but never struck up a conversation with him.

In a way, you thought he was a bit interesting. His eyes enchanted yours and you found yourself finding it hard to look away. You had to though, in order to cross the street.

The pack didn’t believe him when he told them he imprinted on you. Waving it off and saying, “She’ll shoot you down too.”

He knew they were just jealous. He watched slowly but surely as his pack brothers were getting entangled in their imprint’s lives.

He felt like he could do a thousand backflips when you agreed to let him treat you out to ice cream. You didn’t know that one yes could change the trajectory of your life. One hangout turned into many. Soon, you both were joined at the hip. You both didn’t need to breathe in oxygen. You had each other. The kisses were sweet, the touches were comforting, and the moments never seemed to be enough.

Breathy pants of Paul’s name escapes your lips over and over. Dancing with stars was the best description to match the feeling you both felt. Hovering over him, he was able to possessively cup your breast as you bounced on him. Reaching your peak, Paul watched as you went silent and arched your back as you faced the ceiling with your eyes closed, trembling.

“Jesus..” Jared comments.

A growl erupts deep in Paul’s animalistic mind and leaks out of his throat. He totally forgot he was on patrol. He couldn’t help it. You drove him wild. He was counting down the very second he was able to go back to you.

“Thanks. I’ll never get it out of my head.” Quil says, almost not sorry for admitting the excitement he felt.

Paul predatorily creeps towards him, “I have an idea on how to get it out for you.”

“That’s enough.” Sam orders, knowing Paul will actually attack him to make him forget.

“You all need to mind your business.” Paul says to the others.

“I still can’t believe you were able to score her. You really are the spirit’s favorite.” Jacob says. He was tired of the same sexual positions that his imprint was comfortable with.

“I swear Kim only gets on top every once in a blue moon.” Jared says.

“Didn’t ask.” Paul says and think of blankness for the rest of patrol.

Emily was happy to see just Sam come through the door. Usually a pile of boys would be behind him.

“They wanted to go home.” Sam explains when he noticed Emily’s puzzled expression. He knew the reason why. She nods and smiled and pulls him close to her. His intrusive thought of what he saw during patrol made him feel aroused. He tried to shake it. Finally having alone time, the bed rocked to the rhythm that Sam pumped into Emily. Her brain was mush and she was loving every second. Her rolling hips reminded him of how you bucked at Paul. Feeling the tingling of climax approaching, he pumps faster, only to whisper your name as he rides out his orgasm. He hopes that it was quiet enough for it to miss Emily’s ears. Emily rewinded what he said as he moved to the bathroom to clean up. She felt some type of way. Hurt even.

Jared had to coerce and coerce Kim to be on top this time. The memory of what he saw in his pack brother’s mind, made him really want Kim to do it. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” she shyly says. Jared caress the sides of her skin giving her a content smile. “Just move in the direction it feels good.” he coaches and helps give her the start of the rocking motion. A special spot hits her and she gets the hang of it soon enough. Her face slightly titled up and eyelids hung low, Jared’s mind rewinded the image of the same position he saw on patrol. Bucking his hips, he closed his eyes trying to focus on just Kim and just Kim only. Instead, the picture of your puffy and puckered breasts moving up and down was alone with him. At the height of Kim’s note of her orgasmic moan, he moaned at the same time as her, calling your name. He didn’t think she heard, her voice was louder than his. Kim noticed because she actually liked on top this time, she was left wondering if Jared didn’t like it. Another girl was on his mind.

Laying on his back, waiting for his imprint to come into the bedroom for bed, Jacob stared at the ceiling. He tried to make it through the seconds that passed him to not go back to the imagery of you in the bedroom. He was happy with who he was with. He just wanted a switch up every once in a while. Coming in, slowly becoming shy as Jacob pulls her to him, she runs her fingers through his hair. He kisses her with love and while she was still on top of him, he rocks his hips a bit even though she still had clothing on. Gladly, she responds with the roll her hips, getting comfortable with position. Jacob takes his sweet time, it was a blessing for her but it was a curse to him. Trying his best to focus on the girl removing her top, he rewinded on the moment of your orgasmic face. He wanted to make his imprint make the same face. For the heck of it, his imprint rode him without wanting to go safe. She was shy at first but Jacob’s grunts and groans motivated her to keep going. Watching him squeeze his eyes shut, she felt really good. At her peak, she heard a groaned out trail of your name leave his lips. She didn’t want her tears to show until she leaves out to turn on the shower.

A three way communication was involving the three imprints. One vented to the other of what happened in bed. They came to the same conclusion and let the other know, only to find out they’re all victims. Wondering on what to do, Kim couldn’t help but speak her census.

“Y/N definitely has something to do with this”

Emily didn’t want to believe it but in her mind, there was no other reason why Sam would say your name.

“I’ll invite her over. If she’s around the boys they will either stick up for her or vise versa”

Waiting on your arrival, you were stalling to leave Paul. He was like a magnet. He promised to pick you up soon.

Arriving was normal for you. For the other three girls, not so much. You joined them at the table and is surprised that none of them got up to hug you like they always did.

“We won’t be mad, but what’s going on with you and the boys?” Kim starts off. She didn’t want to do small talk. This was no manner.

“The boys? Um…it’s been a while since I’ve seen all of them. But as far as I know, nothing.” you say trying to bring a resolution.

“Have you seen Jared?” Kim asked.

“No. Why is he missing?” you ask worriedly now.

“No, he’s not missing…if you’re leading him on then it’s not a good idea.” Kim says getting agitated. Emily touches her arm.

You get confused and thrown for a loop. “Me, leading them on? What are you talking about?” you say.

“Our three imprints said your name.” Jacob’s imprint speaks up to say.

“What?!” and then you laugh. You actually think it’s a joke. “Okay, you got me. That was a good one.”

Their furious expressions don’t change and you notice, your smile starting to deflate.

“I really hope you’re not serious.” You say trying to piece everything together.

“We’re not joking.” Emily says.

“I’m sorry, but that’s their problem. I haven’t done anything for them to do that. Why would they do that?” You ask and ask the last question really wanting to know.

You pull out your phone, feeling uncomfortable. Kim starts to say and points her finger at you accusingly, “That’s so fucked up. They wouldn’t just do that if you didn’t do anything.”

You let your finger press on Paul’s contact, turning your head to Kim. “You need to ask them. Not me.” you hiss to them and Paul picks up. You ask him to pick you up but Kim interrupts, “You might need to ask her if she’s doing anything with your pack brothers.”

“What?” Paul says on the other line.

“They think I’m the reason why their imprints fantasize about me.” You say in disbelief, tears trying to prickle your eyes. You didn’t like being accused of such thing.

“Y/N, put me on speaker.” He says to you and you press it.

He calls out for the angry imprints’ attention. Once he knows that they’re actually listening to him on the phone in the middle of the table, he speaks out about what happened on patrol.

You had no knowledge of this and put your face in your hands. All you could think about that the boys saw that moment. The looks of the imprints changes from viciousness to great compassions.

They all make an effort to hug you right after Paul hangs up, feeling guilty for jumping to conclusions. The apologies were sincere and promised to never make such thing tear you guys apart. Now united, you all now think of a plan to make them feel what you all felt.

#paul lahote imagine #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolves #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #paul lahote x you #paul lahote fanfic #twilight saga #twilight #fanfic #la push #y/n #y/n imagines #quileute #twilight aesthetic #imprint #twilight imagine #imagine #x reader

601 notes · View notes

lady-ashfade · 1 year ago

Note

Hi, I wanted to request something platonic with Percy, with him meeting his older half-sister after he finds out he's the son of Poseidon.

Sorry for my English, I'm using the translator to write, and sorry if you don't understand my request

Pictures On The Wall

Percy jackson x older!sister (platonic)

-£ this was the first thing that came to mind and it’s such a cute idea! thank you.

-£ words: 700

-£ warnings: short, nervous percy, cool reader, sassy and kinda grunge reader, siblings bonding, fluff.

the wall across from his bed was covered with many things. pictures of people he didn’t know along with a bed half made and clothes piled up. “that’s y/n’s” a name he never heard but yet was family. his half sister was somewhere on a quest and didn’t know that he was snooping round her things.

he looked at the pictures all the time, liking the smile you had. he knew that smile, a distinct memory in his mind but you wore it with pride. you looked so cool and by all the stories he heard you were one of the most awesome person at camp.

every cabin knew you, it was like he needed to fill some sort of shoe now that you walked in but he didn’t know the first thing.

“percy,” grover peaked into the cabin and looked around for his best friend, when he found him he looked nervous. “I think you should come.” percy jumped up at the sound of his voice that sounded like something horrible had happened.

percy walked along his friend while his heart raced, “what happened?” had another monster attacked the camp, what could have happened that he had to come.

“she’s back.” Grover muttered while sighing, “And we thought you should meet her.” oh,- oh gods. you were back so soon? he didn’t have a clue on what he would say or do. would you like him, would you hate him and somehow kick him out of the cabin? he’s never had a sibling before.

“she’s getting patched up and I’ll warn you,” Grover patted his shoulder with a kind smile, “she’s unpredictable at times.” Yeah, that makes me feel much better Percy thought.

as soon as the walked into the infirmary all they could hear was yelling and arguing making the young boys look at each other. they walked to the door and saw the girl on the bed glare at the other around her age.

he knew you. the picture he looked at every day you seemed to be exactly like that, but you didn’t look happy like all of them. the shirt you wore had rips in it and a bloody bandage wrapped around your arm. the redhead girl in front of you held a spoon up to your mouth but you kept fighter her off.

“I’m fine! It’s just a few scratches, I’m not a child!” it was ironic that you looked like a bratty child that wanted to stomp their feet. your lips pouted slightly. percy didn’t know what to think at the scene.

“take it. you’re just keeping yourself from leaving, so do it so I can leave!” the other girl seemed to knock some sense into you as you huffed and took the spoon in your mouth. if looks could kill then she would be on the ground by now, you looked so angry.

humming the redhead walked out of the door and looked at the boys before rolling her eyes and kept going down the hallway. you didn’t seemed to notice them as you started to take off the dirty bandages.

Grover was the first to speak, “excuse me,” you looked at him quickly but your eyes were now soft and no longer sharp. “Grover, come in!” you invited him over but your eyes soon fell on the boy next to him. and immediately the connection between the two of you went off in your head.

“you must be percy?”

he shifted closer and awkwardly not knowing want to do, “yeah. how do you know?”

“I received letters telling me of the idiot brother I seemed to have,” you chuckle and throw the dirty cloths in your hands on the bed. The cut was gone but dry blood still stayed on your skin, “you have dads eyes.” You pointed to your own.

“really?” he asked quietly as you hopped on the floor and stretched. “Oh yeah, less disappointment in them but I’ll give it time.”

you yawned and picked up the black jacket and your backpack, “I’m starving,” you stood between the two of them and then swung your arms around the two of them.

“Now, tell me what you did to Clarisse!” You smirk at the brother you just met, “my favorite sibling already.”

#pjo x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader #platonic percy jackson #platonic percy jackson x reader #platonic x reader #fluff #brother!percy jackson

1K notes · View notes

yvesssssssss · 1 month ago

Note

Hi~ *cough**cough* do you open request? Could you write sickfic where Sakamoto days boys pamper reader that fell sick? I'm catching a cold currently and need some fluff fic🤒��if it's too much then I'll just ask for nagumo

Sick Days with the Boys

Hope you feel better soon! Get plenty of rest and take care!

Nagumo Yoichi

Nagumo dramatically gasps when he sees you curled up under layers of blankets, sniffling. "Oh no, my beloved has fallen in battle… to a common cold." He places a hand over his heart like he’s truly in mourning.

"Yoichi, shut up," you mumble, voice hoarse.

But instead of teasing further, he leans down and presses the back of his hand against your forehead, his usual playful smirk replaced with something softer. "You're burning up," he murmurs. "Don't worry, babe. The world's greatest assassin is also the world's greatest nurse."

…Which explains why he disappears for twenty minutes and then returns wearing a ridiculous nurse’s outfit. "What the hell are you wearing?"

Nagumo grins. "A uniform is key to getting into character!" He twirls a spoonful of steaming soup in front of your face. "Now, open up, sweetheart. Say 'ahh'~"

Despite your glare, you let him feed you. He’s surprisingly gentle about it, blowing on the soup to cool it down before pressing it to your lips. "Good patient," he praises, tucking the blankets around you snugly. Then, without warning, he flops beside you.

"You'll get sick, idiot," you grumble.

"Then we'll be sick together. Romantic, right?"

You groan, but when he pulls you close, warm and solid against your aching body, you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

Shin Asakura

Shin nearly has a heart attack when he hears your thoughts before even seeing you. Ugh… I feel like I’m dying…

He kicks open your door like a SWAT team member, eyes wide with panic. "Who’s dying?! What happened?!"

You peek out from under your blanket pile, looking like a pathetic, sniffling mess. "…Me."

His whole body deflates with relief, but then his worry kicks back in. "You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling well!" He rushes to your bedside, hands awkwardly hovering like he wants to help but isn’t sure how.

"Stay still, I’ll—wait, do you need medicine? Food? Water? Do you want me to read your mind so you don’t have to talk?"

You sigh. "Shin, just lie down with me."

He stiffens. "But you'll get me sick—"

"Please?" You blink up at him, miserable and exhausted.

Shin groans but immediately kicks off his shoes and climbs into bed beside you, wrapping you up in a careful but firm hug. "Fine, but if I get sick, you're nursing me back to health," he mumbles against your hair.

You hum in contentment, already drifting off. "Deal."

Natsuki Seba

Natsuki walks in, sees you half-dead in bed, and immediately goes, "Damn, that sucks. Anyway—"

"Natsuki."

He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "Alright, alright. I’ll take care of you."

You watch as he fumbles around the kitchen, somehow making tea and getting medicine without burning anything down. When he returns, he nudges you until you sit up, handing you a warm cup. "Drink. It’s not poisoned, I promise."

You raise an eyebrow. "…Was that a possibility?"

He shrugs. "Not saying yes, not saying no."

Despite his usual deadpan attitude, he sticks around, flipping through his phone while you sip your tea. At some point, he starts running his fingers through your hair absentmindedly, and when you sigh in relief, he pauses.

Then he keeps going.

"You’re weirdly good at this," you mumble.

"Yeah, yeah. Don’t get used to it," he grumbles, but his fingers never stop moving.

Gaku

Gaku stares at you like you’ve personally betrayed him. "How’d ya let a little cold take you out?"

"Ask my immune system," you deadpan.

Gaku huffs, crossing his arms. "Guess I gotta take care of ya, huh? Fine, but only ‘cause you look pathetic."

He disappears and comes back with an absurd amount of food—snacks, soup, even a ridiculous-looking fruit platter. "Eat," he commands, sitting next to you.

You take a bite and glance at him. "Aren’t you worried about getting sick?"

He scoffs. "Please. My immune system is built different."

Thirty-six hours later, he’s sneezing his lungs out next to you.

"You definitely got me sick," he groans.

You pat his head. "Guess it's my turn to take care of you."

"...Yeah, yeah. Just don’t tell anyone I went down this easy."

#sakadays #sakamoto days x reader #sakamoto days #nagumo yoichi #nagumo x reader #nagumo yoichi x reader #shin asakura #natsuki seba #sakamoto days nagumo #sakamoto days gaku #gaku x reader #gaku #shin asakura x reader #sakamoto days shin #shin x reader #sakamoto days natsuki seba #natsuki seba x reader

272 notes · View notes

birthanon · 2 months ago

Text

Exam in, Baby out

Answering this ask that came through my messages from @yaiofanficbombon2022:

"The class president is in labour (Mpreg). He had a sexual encounter with the popular boy of the school and as a result of this encounter he is pregnant.

His water breaks at home at night, he wants to miss school, but he can't, so he goes to class anyway.

The contractions are intense and constant, and the baby tries to come out, but he refuses to push until the exam is over.

He ends up giving birth in the school bathroom."

I’ve aged them up to a very high school like college because even 18 yo high school students feel too young to me. Hopefully you don’t mind.

This fic contains: mpreg, birth denial, pushing baby back in, clothing birth

“Hey, pres, you all right?” Jason asked, coming to sit next to Max.

Max grunted, forcing a smile for the man who was rather popular with the other people at their very small church owned college they both attended, and also the father of the child that was currently trying to expel itself from Max’s womb. They’d had a secret encounter in Jason’s dorm room after a particularly intense study session—and well, they hadn’t repeated said occurrences since then, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t be friendly. “Fine,” Max managed as the contraction that had been wrapping its way around his belly finally eased off. “Just worried about this exam.”

Specifically, he was worried about passing the final exam of his health class while also managing to keep the kid in him, you know, in him. Particularly since his water had broken last night, and he hadn’t gotten a whole bunch of sleep between the increasingly intense contractions. This was his last final of the semester, though, he just had to pass this test, or at least make it through it, and he was home free. So he’d hobbled his way to class from his dorms. It wouldn’t do for the student president to just not show up to an exam.

“You’re the smart one,” Jason said with a smile. “I’m sure you’ll do fine. Only it doesn’t look like you slept at all.”

“Stayed up all night studying.”

“For health?” Jason asked. “Look man, I know you’re a perfectionist and all that, but no one cares what grade you get in this class. All you gotta do is pass. It’s not worth killing yourself over.”

Max tried to formulate a nonchalant shrug. “Gotta keep that scholarshi—mmmhg.” Another contraction cut him off. He wrapped his fingers around the bottom of the desk and forced all his pain and the screaming desire to push into them instead of downward. Still the contractions were getting insistent. The force of his body pressed the baby’s head against his lips, which began to spread and sting. As soon as the contraction ended, the head slipped back inside, the stinging easing. Still, that wasn’t a good sign. The two hour exam hadn’t even started and the baby was already sitting right behind his lips.

Jason stared. “Man, you sure you’re good?”

“I’ll survive,” Max said, trying to sound sardonic, though his breathlessness gave him away. Jason didn’t know Max was pregnant. No one did. He’d carried small, and Max was good at hiding his body in shapewear and too big hoodies. If anyone did find out, he’d definitely lose his scholarship, and probably get kicked right out of the school. It had very strict rules about sex outside of marriage, and babies don’t just happen.

Max was saved from further questions from Jason by the professor entering the room and beginning to pass out a massive pile of paper that was the final exam. “You will have one and half hours to do the question and answer portion of the exam,” the professor explained. “Then I will show a video of a live birth. As the university wants you to know how to give birth at home, with prayer and without medical intervention as God intended. You all must know how to give birth. After watching the birth video, you will be required to write a paper discussing what they did correctly and what they could have done better. Understood?”

The class nodded.

“All right then, you may begin. You have an hour and a half.”

Max reached out for the packet, grabbing his pencil and his scantron, eager to go as quickly as possible and get this over with. Two questions in, and his stomach was seizing again. Freed from Jason’s questioning gaze, Max wrapped his hand around his stomach to try and soothe it, feeling it shrink underneath the shapewear he wore. He tried not to push, focusing on breathing deeply and slowly through the pain, but the searing stretch of his nethers continued throughout the contraction nonetheless.

According to his studies, contractions lasted about 60-90 seconds, so Max counted out the seconds in his head, one hand wrapped tight around his stomach, the other clutching his fragile wooden pencil dangerously tightly.

As soon as the contraction began to ease and the stinging stopped as the baby returned to its place just outside his lips, Max continued with the test. His contractions were coming every two minutes, lasting about a minute. Which means while the rest of his class had an hour and a half to complete the test, he only had an hour.

The words swum in front of him and he leaned forward to get a better view of the words, curling around his stomach and triggering another contraction. Sitting forward as he was, the hard plastic chair pressed against his lips. Which gave him an idea. Experimentally, he pushed with the urge instead of trying to hold back, grunting softly as he did. The head spread him open, shooting through his stretching lips, and then stopped moving as it struck the chair. Max whined, softly, tapping out of the push early. Except this time, the head didn’t go all the way back in, it stayed at that partial crown, stretching his lips.

Stealthily, he reached down under his desk and explored the area between his spread legs. A massive bulge of straining jeans was wedged between them, pressed up against the chair.

Max let out a shuddering breath. All right, he thought, as long as I can stay sitting down, we can keep the baby in. And thus the test stretched on, in increments of three minutes, two of answering questions, one of pushing fruitlessly into the hard plastic chair, his wet jeans bagging out with the emerging head.

Some of the questions were about health, but a lot were about sexual health and reproduction. Labeling the different parts of the birther’s anatomy felt particularly ironic when Max could feel the stretch of so many of them, the diagram a visual reminder of how small everything had been before a baby had been shoved through it.

Another question asked which sex position was most likely to result in successful reproduction, which had him flashback to his room, with Jason leaning over him, his warm chest on Max’s. It brought a blush to his cheeks which led Max to lift his head and glance over at Jason.

Jason had been looking back, his brows wrinkled in concern, but when he caught Max looking, the face changed to a forced smile and a hidden lewd hand symbol. Maybe the test was bringing up memories for him too.

Their moment was broken by another contraction. Max forced his head down, as though he was working on his test, leaning as far forward as he could, his stomach pressing against the bottom of the desk, his crotch against the seat to keep the baby in as his whole body pushed down.

The pain was just letting up when the teacher called for their attention, and put on the birthing video. A woman moaning, crouching, her husband supporting her from behind, praying. Her stomach visibly contracted as Max’s own pain returned. Their contractions had synced up, but while she was naked and pushing freely, he was covered in clothes, unable to push or make progress. Her grunts of effort and cries of pain masked his own moans.

The voice of the camera-person ordered the woman, “Push! Push!”

And having sat at a partial crown for an hour and half, Max couldn’t help but obey, pushing in sync with the woman on screen. He leaned back instinctively, lost in the grasp of instinct. He and the woman pushed, and pushed. The babys’ heads emerged slowly, fighting to stretch out the body and, in Max’s case, force the jeans out of the way.

The woman screamed as her head reached a full crown, losing her crouch and falling backwards, caught by her husband. Max’s own softer exhalation, as his own crown, freed from the confines of the chair, reached its own crown.

The next few pushes were unfruitful. The baby’s head bobbed in the woman’s crotch as Max’s own baby fought against his tight jean crotch and lost. He wasn’t trying to hold back anymore, wasn’t thinking consciously, only knew he needed to push.

Then the head on screen gushed out, followed by the rest of the body in rapid succession, but Max’s was still stuck, no matter how he pushed and grunted. The screen went black.

“You have twenty minutes to write your essays.”

Max panted, realizing his situation. His hand explored downward, gasping at how large the bulge was, his legs spread apart, his lips screaming in pain, stretched to their fullest, his whole body soaked in sweat.

He could not write, could not focus on writing, but he had to. So, ever so slowly he leaned forward. The head of the baby caught on the chair, then began to be shoved up inside him once more. Max shoved his pencil in his mouth, biting down hard to hold back the scream that threatened to bubble in his throat at the pure agony.

Another, harsher contraction came, but he weathered it, biting his pencil and pressing himself down against the chair. It faded, and he tried to write. The next contraction was just as bad. His weakened pencil snapped his hand. He whimpered as the head began to emerge once more, stretching him little by little.

It didn’t seem like he had two minutes of leeway anymore, no matter what their professor had taught. The contractions didn’t seem to end. It hurt so much. He was so sweaty, so confined. The baby was coming out again. He didn’t have the energy to push it against the chair. It was stretching his lips, so wide.

“Time!” The professor called. “Pencils down.”

Max’s pencil was in pieces before him, his essay a mess, his multiple choice portion, not quite complete. But he didn’t care. He had to give birth. He had to get out of there.

The old professor toddled around, collecting tests as Max tried to look normal after having been in active labor for fourteen hours and actively crowning for two.

He’d had a plan, take the test, go home, give birth in his empty apartment. But as the baby reached a full crown once more, Max knew that wasn’t happening. He would at least make it to the bathroom. It was on the first floor. Max planned his route as the professor said his final goodbyes, and then, finally, finally, fifteen minutes after the test ended, released them.

Max stayed where he was, unsure how to stand as the rest of the students burst out of the room. Another student stayed and talked to Jason, pulling his attention away from Max.

Now, Max thought. He awkwardly turned in his seat, and removed his hoodie. It revealed his very low belly, curved and sweat-soaked, but he used it to tie around his waist, hiding the massive bulge in his crotch. Then, oh so gently, he leveraged himself to his feet.

Gravity shifted, his jeans loosened a bit, and the baby dropped down just a bit further, the head stretching him wider than he thought possible. Max gasped and swayed, catching himself on his desk. Jason glanced over, clearly concerned, but his conversation partners drew him back in.

Free. Max began to waddle, slowly, awkwardly, out of the classroom. Each step was agony, his jeans jostling the fully crowned head in his pants in and out just a smidge. His exhausted legs trembled, and he kept one hand on the wall to keep himself upright. The stairs were right next to the classroom, the elevator was on the other side of the building. He could either walk the entirety twice (to reach the elevator and then walk all the way back to the bathroom at the base of the stairs), or go down the stairs. He chose the stairs.

He went down two before he realized it was an awful idea. He clung to the railing, his legs forcefully spread around the head, which brushed his thighs each time he maneuvered himself awkwardly down the stairs like a new-born deer.

Finally, red faced, panting, exhausted, he reached the bottom of the stairs and practically fell into the door of the men’s bathroom. A guy at the urinal gave him a look.

“Really gotta. . . go,” Max panted, then stumbled into the stall and locked the door. He reached immediately for his jeans. His shaking hands fumbled with the belt. As the contraction struck, he crouched naturally, spreading his legs wider, but that only forced the jeans up tighter against his opening, forcing the head further in.

Finally, the belt gave way, and he began forcing the jeans down. They got caught on his hips. He needed to move his legs together, but another contraction hit, and the baby descended further, its nose stretching him and popping out. The head was touching his thighs. He couldn’t spread his legs further to give it more room with his jeans, he couldn’t get rid of the jeans because of the head.

He was stuck.

Mind frozen with fear and exhaustion, he weathered out several contractions, pushing as hard as he could. But the baby didn’t move. It was stuck. The jeans had to go, but that meant. . .

He heard speaking over the roar of his ears, but couldn’t make out the words. It was definitely Jason.

But Max could spare him no thought. The baby had to come out. Quivering, Max placed his hand on his baby’s head, feeling its wet hair. He took one deep breath, trying to get oxygen in his panic, then began to push the baby up and back it.

It was agony. He screamed in pain. The baby kicked in protest. His stomach contracted. In the chaos, he lost his balance, falling to his knees, striking his elbow on the side of the tiny stall.

Jason was pounding on the stall door.

Max couldn’t talk to him, couldn’t do anything but give birth. He shucked off his jeans and boxers, spread his legs, and pushed.

The much denied baby shot out, to its ears and Max cried out again. The contraction faded, and he could hear Jason now, asking if Max was okay.

“I’ve cleared the bathroom and put a sign out saying its closed. Tell me what's going on, or I’ll call 911.”

Well, Max would need help getting out of here. And it was just as much Jason’s secret as it was his. With a shaking hand, he reached up and undid the latch, just in time for the next contraction to hit. He pushed, and the baby’s head shot out of him just as Jason flung open the door.

“Holy crap!”

Max gasped, leaning against the toilet, spreading his legs just a bit further. The dirty bathroom tile was cold. It felt good. The baby was turning inside him.

“Is that mine?” Jason asked. That health class did something for him after all.

Max could only nod.

“Shit. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max didn’t have the breath for explanations. “Wanted you safe,” he gasped. “If I was. . . if they did. . .”

Another contraction. He pushed, weakly. The head bobbed forward, but didn’t move. God, he was exhausted.

Jason knelt down beside Max, his health class training coming into play. “How long have you been in labor?”

“Water broke—nngghh—last night.” The head still didn’t move. He was so tired.

“Last night!”

“Head crowned. . . just. . . just before the—” Another contraction. Max pushed with the pain as hard as he could, but the head wasn’t moving.

“Shit, man.”

Another contraction. No progress. Something was catching on his narrow hips. His body wasn’t made for birthing the way a woman’s was. “I think, I think it’s stuck.”

“I got you, give me a moment.” Then Jason left, leaving Max alone, spread wide and bare, a baby head between his legs, on a dirty bathroom floor. He flopped his head back, resting it on the toilet seat. Gross, yeah, but he didn’t have the energy to care any more.

Another fruitless contraction.

Then Jason was back. He crouched down by Max. “this is going to hurt,” he warned. Then he shoved his hand into Max’s crotch alongside the baby’s neck. Max opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out. He was too tired. The pain was awful, the stretch terrible. Then Jason was fumbling around in there with his whole-ass hand, pulling and tugging. Max’s hips strained.

Another contraction began, tensing Max’s stomach which was peeking up through his shirt, which had ridden up.

With the hand that wasn’t currently inside Max, Jason pressed down on Max’s stomach. “Push!” he ordered.

Max pushed. Jason pushed with one hand and pulled with the other. The tension, the pressure built, and built. Max was being torn apart. He was going to die. He was—

Something gave. With a gush, the crying baby shot out into Jason’s waiting hands.

The three of them sat, panting, staring at each other. “I want to raise this baby with you, if you’ll let me,” said Jason. “Only reason I haven’t been with you more is, well, I didn’t want to get us both kicked out. But I think you’re amazing and—”

Max smiled. “You’re pretty good too. Let’s do this.”

#birth denial #birth kink #giving birth #birth story #clothing birth #mpreg #mpreg birth

387 notes · View notes

yearsbecomingcool · 4 months ago

Text

good boy | daniel markowitz 18+

donate to gaza here | masterlist | part 2

pairing | daniel markowitz x f!reader

synopsis | your best friend is there for you after a shitty day at work.

warnings | f!reader, me ranting about working retail, drug use, sexual context, premature ejaculation, hair pulling, subby!danny, and grinding.

word count | 3k

a/n | the lack of fics for daniel is insane to me so naturally i had to fix that. thelma is amazing and you all need to watch it, super fun and cute!! i'm so thankful the screenplay for thelma is up online because i used it as a guide for daniel while writing. there will be a part 2 to this i swear. next fic is going to be for caracalla and I'm very excited for it. if y'all have requests for any of fred's other characters please feel free to send them in :)

There’s nothing you hate more than a customer who comes in at the last minute. You were at your retail job, clearing the last of the hangers out of the fitting room when you heard the front door open. You glance over at your coworker, giving her an annoyed look. You drop your voice low, with an empty store and the music turned off it won’t take much for your voice to travel. “Who comes into this place right before closing, who needs jeans at 9:51pm?” You groan.

“Let’s just hope they’ll be quick.” She returns to sweeping up the fitting room. About five minutes later the customer, a middle aged woman with a haircut that screams ‘I will call your manager over nothing’, walks into the fitting room holding a pile of jeans. You decide to grit your teeth and open up a room for her before wandering off to the back to find your manager. You put in the door code and head into the back, pounding on the office door where your manager is counting the registers already. If this woman tries to pay in cash you all are fucked. You hear your manager putting up the money and she opens the door just a crack. “We just had someone come in to try on like ten pairs of jeans, should I tell her that we close soon, or?”

Your manager sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance. “I’ll handle it in a minute, just let her try it on for now and put someone at the front to make sure no one else comes in.” You nod in response and head back out to the floor, sending someone up to the front before you slip into one of the fitting rooms. You open your texts, a small blue dot next to your conversation with Danny. Sometimes you envied him being unemployed, right now is one of those times. You open up the conversation, smiling down at his message. He had finally watched the horror movie you’d suggested ages ago and was telling you how much he loved it. You type up a quick response as you hear the other fitting room door open, you slip your phone into your pocket and slip back out.

“Do you carry anything not…ugly?” She asks, motioning down to the pair of atrocious jeggings she’s tried on. You internally cringe at the printed on pockets and crease lines.

You put on your best customer service voice and nod, “Yes ma’am. Do you know what you’re looking for?”

She gives you a look that makes you want to quit on the spot, “If I knew what I was looking for do you think I’d be trying on so much shit?”

You manage to stay calm, giving her a strained smile. “Well if there’s anything I can help you look for just let me know.” The woman shuts the door in your face and you sigh, slipping back into the fitting room you were just in. You pull your conversation with Danny back up and type out a text to him.

please tell me you’re free tonight, work is making me lose my mind

You slip your phone back into your pocket and try to keep yourself busy. It’s ten minutes past close now and you’re getting more annoyed as every second passes. As you’re fixing the clearance section for the hundredth time your phone buzzes, a new text from Danny.

i am

what time are you off?

You smile and type back a response

i was supposed to be off at 10:30 but some karen came in and is trying off half the store

so when i know i’ll let you know

i need canes so bad tonight

His response comes quickly.

canes sounds so good

do you want me to pick you up or?

You bite down on your lower lip, trying to decide.

yeah

do you wanna stay over tonight?

a movie night and canes maybe?

Your phone buzzes again with his response.

sounds perfect

mom is driving me up the wall again

You send a thumbs up react and head back to the fitting room to see if that customer is gone yet. You sigh in relief when you see the door is open and then immediately want to bash your head into the wall when you see she left every single item she tried on in the room and on the floor. You can hear your coworker locking the doors and feel relieved that she’s at least gone now. You snap a quick picture of the mess and send it to Daniel.

i love my job.

He’s quick to reply, the message coming seconds after yours.

canes will fix it

promise

You smile down at the message and quickly type out your response.

if it doesn’t i bought more edibles last week

You ignore his next messages to fix and put back the items she had left in the fitting room. You hold down the button on your walkie, “Are we still getting out of here at 10:30? I fixed all the stuff she left.” As soon as she replies you send Danny a quick text to let him know to be here at 10:30. You pray the next 15 minutes will go by quickly as you find things to busy yourself with until finally you can grab your things and leave. As you all walk up to the doors to leave you smile at the sight of his car in the parking lot, parked right next to yours.

As soon as you’re out you’re quick to run to his car, knocking on the passenger window, scaring the shit out of him in the process. You throw your head back and laugh at the sight of him dropping his phone and screaming. He unlocks the door and bends down to scoop his phone up off the floor. You’re still laughing when you get in. “Holy shit, I forget how easily scared you are.” You drop your bag to the floor next to a crumpled Wendy’s bag and buckle up, leaning back comfortably in his seat.

“You’re such a dick,” he mutters, still recovering from how you scared him.

“You looooove me,” you tease, reaching over to ruffle his already messy hair.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you need to sleep at night,” he jokes, buckling up and turning the car back on.

You sit in silence for a minute as he drives out of the parking lot. “Thank you for coming to hang out, work has been such a goddamn nightmare lately…I’ve missed you.” You say softly as you play with the rips in your jeans.

He smiles, his cheeks turning pink, “I’ve missed you too…I started taking those classes at the community college last month. I’m not taking a lot but they’ve kept me a little busy.”

“I’m glad you’re doing them, I thought you were gonna lose it having to be stuck around your parents constantly,” you chuckle. As sweet as his parents are they can be a nightmare to be around at times, you think they’re why he’s so anxious but you’d never say that out loud.

“They’ve been driving me insane today, I keep telling them it’s so hard to get anywhere to call back but they think it’s bullshit. They haven’t had to apply for a job in like 30 years, they think you can still walk in and get an application,” he rants.

“Oh my god…there’s no fucking way. Every time someone comes in to get an application we have to tell them to apply online, I feel like an asshole every time I have to tell them. Y’know you should come work with me, it sucks but it’s something at least. We’re hiring.”

He smiles, “Maybe I will, then I can get paid to annoy you.”

You groan playfully, “Y’know what they actually just filled every position so-”

“Oh fuck off!” He laughs, pulling into the packed Canes drive through.

“Do you know what you want, or?”

You cut him off, “You have my order memorized by now.”

He holds his hands up defensively, “Hey! For all I know you could’ve picked tonight to branch out.”

You roll your eyes, “When have I ever branched out with food a day in my life?”

“Fair point…”

As you sit waiting for the line to move you glance over at Danny, you grab his wrist, examining the rip on his cardigan. “Dude, you need to throw this out, or like go get it fixed.”

“If you think that little rip is bad just look at this.” He leans forward to show you an even worse rip towards the back of the dark blue cardigan.

“Jesus did something take a bite out of it? You know we sell one that looks a lot like that, I could always get you a new one.” You offer.

“I like this one, it’s soft. Just let me wear it until it falls apart.”

You sigh, “I think it’s about halfway there, bud.”

Silence falls over the car again, you scramble for something to fill it. You regret the first words out of your mouth. “So, how are things with Allie?”

His face sours, he looks down at his lap trying to come up with an answer. “She’s got a new boyfriend…seems like he’s got his shit together, so y’know, that’s uh…good.”

“Shit, dude…” You place your hand on his shoulder, “She’s missing out. You don’t have it all together yet, and that’s fine, but you still have a lot to offer.”

He sighs, shaking his head. “You sound like my grandma,” he sounds amused.

“I still can’t believe she pulled a fucking heist to get her money back…what a legend.”

He laughs, scratching the back of his neck, “I don’t know how she pulled it off still, she’s incredible. God…I was so stressed that whole day.”

“Yeah, I know, you were practically blowing up my phone. But hey, I’d do the same if my grandma pulled something like that.”

He turns to you smiling, “Well if she ever does you have an expert to help you handle it,” he gestures to himself cockily.

“I’m sure you’ll be great at helping me freak out.”

He smacks your thigh playfully, “Hey, be nice if you want me to pay.”

“Right, right, can’t upset my sugar daddy…”

“Fuck off,” he cackles, rolling his eyes.

Once you get your food he starts heading back to your place, you feed him his fries while he drives, the radio playing softly in the background. “It’s a good thing we both got extra sauce, I don’t know why they don’t just sell bottles of this shit already,” you say as you dip another fry into the sauce for him.

“If they did, I think we’d be enough to keep them in business,” he laughs.

Back at your place Danny makes himself comfortable on your plush couch, it was one your grandma had been nice enough to donate once you got your own apartment, a one bedroom just big enough for you and your cat. You retreat to your room to grab your edibles, a small baggie with candy that looks similar to Airhead Xtremes. You toss the bag into his lap as you plop down next to him, grabbing your Canes box off the coffee table. “Don’t take a lot, you know I’ve never been one to go for a low dose,” you caution.

“Thanks for the warning, the last time I took some with you I woke up high.”

You laugh at the memory, “You were such a mess that night, I felt so bad.”

He pats your shoulder reassuringly, “It’s fine, I lived, didn’t I?”

“Unless I’m hallucinating you right now, then yeah, you did.”

He takes his turn feeding you your fries as you scroll through your streaming services to find something to watch. You turn to him, “Are you gonna kill me if I put on Spree again?”

“I might,” he deadpans.

You click on it anyway, starting the movie and taking a small bite off your edible, Danny doing the same. You lean your head on his shoulder, cuddling up to him like always. He glances down at you with a smile, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to pull you in closer.

“I’ve missed this…I hate being busy.”

You smile up at him, “I wish I was rich, then I’d have all the time in the world to do whatever I wanted. I’d spend all my days watching movies, annoying the shit out of you. Sounds like a better life to me.”

“Then you could be my sugar daddy.”

You roll your eyes, “I practically am your sugar daddy, I barely let you pay for anything.”

“You shouldn’t do that y’know,” he says softly. “I still live with my parents, I can afford to pay for your stuff. You’re like…an adult, you’ve got bills to pay.”

“You’ll be in the same boat soon, Danny. Maybe I’ll need a roommate.”

“In a one bedroom?” He asks incredulously.

“Yeah, you can sleep on the floor. I’m a generous host,” you joke.

He cocks an eyebrow at you. “You let me sleep in your bed with you every time I stay over but I’ll have to sleep on the floor when I move in?”

“Fine, you can sleep at the end of my bed. Is that better?”

His brows furrow, “Like a dog?”

“Mhm, you can bark, right?”

His cheeks go pink and he stumbles over his words, unable to string together a comprehensible sentence. Eventually just nodding shyly.

You love to see him flustered. You reach out and pet his hair like a dog, “Good boy.”

You bite your lip at how red he gets. You wonder if Allie ever messed with him like this.

They dated for a year and yet you feel like you barely know anything about what happened between them. You glance down at his lips. You kissed once, it was junior year. He’d come over after school, muttering a lie to his mom about needing to work on a project. Instead you had managed to get your hands on some bud, fluttering eyelashes and a twenty was all you needed to pay with. Your parents were working late, again, so it made it easy to get away with. He laughed at you, watching you pull up a tutorial on Youtube for how to roll a joint. Laughing even harder when you rolled quite possibly the worst joint in all of history. You smoked together, watching the Jackass series, laughing too hard at every bit. At some point you ended up in his lap, he pulled you into his chest, resting his head on your shoulder. You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling playfully at the blonde strands. Your eyes went wide when he whimpered. You pulled his head back, his eyes squeezing shut in pain and…something else. You watch how he bites down on his lower lip to keep quiet, you’ve always thought his teeth were cute, as weird as it sounds. “Danny?” You say his name softly.

He opens his eyes, “Mhm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

He blushes, “I-I’ve never…” He looks away, embarrassed.

“It’s easy, can I show you?” You ask softly, trying to make sure he’s comfortable.

“Please…” It comes out more pathetic than he intends.

You pulled him in, kissing him softly, helping him figure out his pace. You want to take it further, but before you can his phone goes off. His embarrassing ringtone blaring, making him jump back, startled. You pull away from him and slide off his lap so he can answer it.

After that you two never spoke of the incident again, but you thought about it constantly. He had a few girlfriends here and there over the years but never any as serious as Allie. You hated her at first, a weird misogynistic jealousy bubbling up. But you got over it, sort of. You were kind to her, you liked her, but the jealousy still lived in you quietly. It gnawed at you every time you saw them put their hands on one another but you kept it to yourself. You wanted Danny to be happy even if it made you feel sick.

Danny wants to lean in, he wants to kiss you, but he’s nervous. He couldn’t be casual, it wasn’t in his nature. He hadn’t been with anyone since Allie, much less kissed anyone. He felt pathetic, a normal guy his age would kiss you easily. They’d lean in, maybe push your hair behind your ear. But he couldn’t, his hands trembled at the mere thought of it.

“You look nice tonight,” he says softly, still staring at your lips. He means it, he thinks it’s cute how your mascara has smudged slightly under your eye from a long day at work.

“You’re sweet…so do you,” you giggle. You reach up and caress his face softly.

“Me? I-I’m a mess, I stayed in bed all day doing school work.”

“Let me compliment you. You’re pretty. I love your eyes and your hair, you even have cute teeth…if you ever get veneers I’ll stop talking to you.”

He laughs, cheeks permanently pink at this point. “It’s sweet you think I can afford veneers.”

“Can I kiss you?” You blurt out as if you’re back in high school perched on his lap.

His eyes go wide, he runs his tongue over his bottom lip and pulls you into his lap, your thighs falling onto either side of him. You kiss him softly at first, almost like your kiss from high school, this time less sloppy. Your hand finds his way into his hair, the other gripping the back of the couch. You pull at his hair and deepen the kiss, your hips instinctively roll against his, he whines against your lips. His sweet pathetic sounds are like music to your ears. His hands are on your waist, pulling you down on hip by your belt loops. You roll your hips again and that’s all it takes. He whines loudly, his head knocking against yours. He grips your hips tight, his eyes squeezing shut, hips bucking up as he comes. You caress his face as he comes down from it, you can feel his cheeks heating up.

“Danny did you just…”

He whines with embarrassment, “Don’t laugh…please.”

#fred hechinger #thelma #thelma 2024 #fred hechinger x reader #fred hechinger imagine #fred hechinger x you #Daniel markowitz #Daniel markowitz x reader #Daniel markowitz x you #Fred Hechinger fanfic #divider by cafekitsune

260 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 2 years ago

Note

i’ve been meaning to request this for awhile because i love the idea, what if poly!marauders x animagus!reader and reader’s animal counter part is a raccoon so they call reader bandit as their nickname for the group. and maybe reader naturally has dark circles under their eyes and they prefer to be awake at night? maybe they steal little tokens from their partners like rings and shirts all the time too lol. idk if this interests you but if so i’d love to read it babes! -🌶️

Hi Pepper! This was my first attempt at writing animagus!reader and it felt a bit clumsy but I hope you like it! Thanks for requesting my love <3

poly!marauders x animagus!reader ♡ 742 words

“Where are they?” Sirius asks, stalking into the common room.

Remus doesn’t look up from his book, not needing to wonder who Sirius is asking about. “They crashed right after class.” He glances out the window. “But it’s almost dark, they should be up soon. Missing something?”

“My rings.” Sirius holds up ten bare fingers. “Took them off to shower after class, and now they’re gone.”

“Ew,” James says, coming in with two cups of tea. He passes one to Remus, handle first. “It’s like you’re naked.”

Sirius harrumphs. “You wish, Prongs.”

“Have you tried checking their stash?” Remus asks, flipping his page.

Both James and Sirius look at him quizzically. “You know where it is?”��

Remus sighs. His bones creak and pop as he stands. “Come on,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

Your boyfriends mostly stay out of their dorm during the day because it’s so quiet and dreary. You’ve got all the curtains drawn shut, not even the tiniest ray of sunlight allowed to permeate your den, and you’ve burrowed underneath the covers of your bed for good measure. Remus leads the boys to the top corner of your bed, pointing to what appears to be a pile of shirts you’ve stowed behind the bedpost.

James crouches bemusedly, but at Remus’ nod, he pulls the top shirt aside. Sirius sees the glint of metal and drops to his haunches beside James, looking at the treasures you’ve nestled within the pile of shirts. He curses quietly, gathering the rings he’d been wearing that morning along with some he hadn’t seen for months. They clink together in his palm, and not a second later, he and James look up at the sound of rustling sheets.

Your face emerges from beneath the covers, and Sirius thinks amusedly that it’s almost like you’re peering out from the mouth of a very plush cave. “What’re you doing?” you ask, words slurred together with sleep. Less so when your eyes narrow on the rings in Sirius’ hand. “Those are mine.”

Sirius can’t help it; he laughs, and you glare at him (you’re really not as intimidating as you’d like to think, even with the darkness that rings your eyes and makes you look like a cartoon villain). “Oh, are they?” he asks you. “I seem to recall purchasing them some time ago.”

“Since when did you purchase them?” James asks, rising from his crouch to sit next to you on the bed. He pets your hair, and you relax as if you might go back to sleep, though you’re still tracking Sirius’ hand with watchful eyes. “You told me you stole them from your mum.”

“Well,” Sirius huffs. “Finders keepers.”

“Exactly,” you say grouchily. “So put them back.”

“Sorry, Bandit.” Sirius drops a conciliatory kiss on your temple as he slides a few of the rings on and stows the others in his pocket. “I found ‘em this time. Anyway, at least when I steal things, I actually use them. Keeping them stashed under your bed is criminal.”

You grumble, but you can’t rally much resentment with James’ fingernails scratching at your scalp so pleasantly.

“I think they do it to feel close to us,” Remus muses, giving you an appraising look. You won’t meet his eyes. “I mean, they’ve got your rings under there, Pads, and one of Prongs’ old necklaces, and some of my sweaters.” James coos as you sink further back into your burrow, and Remus smiles. “Did I get that right, sweetheart?”

Sirius knows that tone. Remus is laying it on thick and extra sweet, trying to get you to squirm. And it’s working; you won’t look up from where you’re toying with the hem of the sheets, but your face takes on a pinkish hue. You start tearing the edge of your sheet into little strips between your fingers.

“Oi.” James takes your hand prisoner in his. “Don’t start on that, we’ve already had to replace all the curtains.”

“Is that true, baby?” Sirius wheedles, giving you his most saccharine smile. “Do you take our things because you love us?”

You huff, your embarrassment revealed by the way you begin playing with James’ fingers. “Obviously I love you. You know that already. And you have nice things, so think whatever you want.”

Remus chuckles. “Alright, we will.”

“I can’t believe it.” Sirius looks down at you, raising an eyebrow when you glare. “Our Bandit’s a thief with a heart of gold.”

2K notes · View notes

mydarlingclaudia · 5 months ago

Text

every word I meant to say

note : ermmmm hi. don't ask where I went for like almost a month work is eating me alive and I was sad. this was inspired by that the unsent project thing andddd idk if I really like this it's def ooc but I was thinking about it again today and this has been in my drafts since September so I figured why not

wc : 2.1k

tags : @luvrgreyy @clitorphosis @sonya-semyonova

desc : letters that went unsent. kind of unrequited love, angst (???), more Leon focused, re2r!Leon - DI!Leon, fem!reader, ooc, not proofread

"I meant to write sooner, I really did. I know it's been a year, my life is so different now, I don't think you'd even believe me if I tried to explain it. I hope you're doing better than I am, I'm happy you weren't able to move to the city with me."

Leon hasn't written a letter since, what, his first few years in the academy? Maybe the end of his senior year of high school? He can't really remember, but he knows that this letter is important because it's to you, his friend he hasn't seen since the night he left for Raccoon City. This isn't even an actual letter, he's scribbling out what he thinks might be good excuses as to why he hasn't talked to you in a year on the back of pieces of scrap paper he took from the office.

He's supposed to be asleep right now, same as everyone else in boot camp, but it's been a year since Raccoon City and he's wondering if you ever tried to reach him. Maybe you tried to go to Raccoon City to look for him, only to see the pile of rubble that stood in its place, sectioned off by the government. Maybe you thought he was dead, he wouldn't blame you.

You and Leon had stuck together all throughout high school, even managed to stay friends when he went off to the police academy and you moved a few hours away for college. He doesn't even know if your address is still the same, he really hopes it is, there's no phone-books in boot camp if he wanted to try and call you, you're supposed to have your loved ones numbers memorized.

The last time Leon saw you was the night before he was supposed to move to the city, before he got a letter in the mail the next morning telling him not to come in, he really wishes he had listened. You were so happy for him, starting out as a city cop was a big deal and he had worked so hard to get there, you and a few friends had thrown him a going-away-party, telling him not to forget you once he got to the city. Leon couldn't forget you if he tried.

You had talked about moving to the city with him for a short period of time, it was really just ramblings the two of you kept bringing up. "Oh, when we live in the city..." "I can come visit you at work..." "I'll handle dinner, you'll handle cleaning..." Nothing ever really came of those ideas, but it gave him a warm feeling in his stomach knowing you wanted to come to the city with him.

He hopes you’ve been well, that life has been kinder to you than it has to him. Leon hopes you got that job you were gushing about the last time he saw you, he hopes you still think of him on his birthday because he thinks of you often.

He shouldn’t have gone to Raccoon City, he should’ve stayed home the day he left and instead stopped by your house to bother you about going to see a movie. Or he should have taken you to lunch, anything would’ve been better than walking into a city that was beyond saving.

"I’m not really sure what I’m saying, but I know I miss you. How have you been? I hope I’m able to come and visit soon, everything’s been moving so fast, but I’ll figure something out. Maybe we can get dinner, or something. Whatever you want, I’ll pay for it, don’t worry."

Leon's hands shake a tiny bit when he thinks of you, it's that school boy nervousness that movies portray whenever there's a boy with a crush on a girl who he knows is probably too out of his league. You were friends, at least.

"You're done with school now, right?" He knows you are. "I wish I was there for the graduation ceremony, I know your parents are proud. Do you remember my graduation party? Someone spiked the punch and we both ended up passed out in the bathtub at your house, you looked really pretty that night. I hope your graduation was better than mine. This would probably have been better as a phone call, but I don't know, you said letters were always more thoughtful.

– Leon"

–

That letter never got sent. Every letter needs an envelope, Leon just never got around to finding one, but he kept that scrap piece of paper tucked inside his pillowcase on the odd chance that he got his hands on one. He had stricter rules to follow than the other recruits, being legally dead and all.

But even after he got out of boot camp, he kept the letter. It's hidden away in some drawer in his house, he's not sure where, though.

He didn't make it into the army, he's not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing, but being in the position he was in now wasn't much better. He's stronger now, hardened, more mature.

Leon's written a few more letters to you over the years, ones that still never got sent because he either deemed them unworthy or because he became unsure of himself halfway through writing it. But he hasn't thrown any of them away, he'll send them one day, he swears it.

Leon's not using you as a way of journaling, either, even though he should find some way to actually write down his thoughts to get them out of his head. What he writes to you is mostly memories, telling you that his life keeps changing and that he misses you. He knows you're different by now, too. You're both grown, no longer in high school, no longer in college or the academy. If he could turn back time, go anywhere other than Raccoon City, he would. He thinks that's selfish of him, him not being there would've left Claire and Sherry in that city, but how would he have even known?

"Me again, hope you're doing better than I am." Leon's way with words gets worse and worse by the week, not that he cares. "I met someone who kind of reminded me of you, she's a sweetheart, like you. You'd probably become fast friends if you were ever able to meet."

Leon's not allowed to tell you about his mission in Spain, or about the president's daughter. President Graham is putting more body-guards in place for his daughter once she steps foot in D.C. again, Leon's sure the president considered appointing Leon as one of them at some point since breaking the news that she was going to be coming back home safely.

Leon should stop thinking about you so much, it's not like you were his only friend in the world, you've probably forgotten him, anyway.

"My life is still different, but yours probably is, too. This probably sounds stupid, but I miss being in high school. You probably don't, your mom was up your ass all the time and you worked yourself to the bone. Has that changed at all?

I remember that one year I went to Thanksgiving at your house, your uncles were all drunk and your cousins kept trying to get me to come sit with them, your grandpa was trying to get me interested in football. I haven't had a holiday like that since then, your family was always really nice to me."

He's not sure what to say anymore, these letters always just end up dragging out, but Leon has a lot of memories and he hopes you think of them as often as he does.

"I'm sorry I haven't visited. It's harder for me to get time off of work these days, even though I could really fucking use it. I promise one day I'll come back, it's just not going to be for a little while. Just don't do anything dumb.

– Leon"

–

Those letters he's been writing you have piled up in the drawer of his nightstand.

He's definitely sure that your address has changed by now, you're probably not even in the same state anymore. He could always try to find you on Facebook, explain everything that's been building up over the years in a simple text, but there's still rules he's supposed to follow even in his personal life.

Leon didn't stop writing, though. The letters did eventually get shorter, he's not sure if you like the same things anymore or if you'd even be interested.

He writes now mostly about how different his life would be if he was with you, if he had just asked you out in high school or kissed you the night he was supposed to leave for Raccoon City. It almost feels real to him when he goes to sleep, but that might just be the alcohol numbing his brain, not the dream of you sleeping next to him or the feeling of your breath on the back of his neck, not even the little pitter-patter off tiny footsteps coming from down the hallway.

It does make him feel a bit pathetic, dreaming of a life with someone he hadn't talked to in years. Leon can't help but think of you, he always thought you were pretty, and the past always lives in the back of his mind, but it comes alive late at night.

You're an entirely different person by now, someone who he hasn't had the opportunity to meet yet. You're probably married, maybe you even have a few kids running around, Leon's jealous of that. That could've been him, but it's not. But he's not even sure if you'd recognize each other if you passed by on the street, so is it even worth it to dwell on all the maybe's?

"I'm not sure I'll get to visit you for a while, not without a lucky fucking twist of fate, anyway."

All these letters are starting to sound the same, but Leon clings onto the thought of someday sending them to whatever corner of the country you were hiding in and hoping that there's still room in your life for a stranger.

"Do you still want me over for dinner? You don't know what I'd give to just eat a shitty meal with you right now."

You don't know what he'd give to do anything with you, really. He knows that there's a lifetime worth of things he's missed out on and that maybe every once in a while you think about him in the same way he thinks about you.

"I don't know how to ask this, but are you married? I know you'd look stunning in a wedding dress." You probably are, you're a catch, who wouldn't want to put a ring on your finger? Your husband's probably a better man than he is, too. One who hasn't had years worth of trauma jammed into his brain with the proof of it marked across his body, your husband probably takes you out on a date every week, maybe even surprises you with breakfast in bed and kisses the nape of your neck to gross out your kids. "I really hope you're happy, in my head you are.

I wanted that to be us, I never told you, but I was a chicken-shit kid and didn't know how to say it. You show up in my dreams sometimes, you deserve nothing but the best. I meant to get back in touch with you forever ago, but I think it's probably too late.

– Leon"

–

Two years after his last letter and Leon's still thinking of you, seventeen years after Raccoon City and the image of you sitting across from him for the last time still loops in his mind. He doesn't really remember your voice but he knows that you thought handwritten letters were romantic, and he still reads over the ones he meant to send to you but kept avoiding.

He's done with the letters, hasn't written one in a long time. But he just got back from California and your old favorite song is playing on the radio, and he's remembering how in love he is with your memory.

"I don't know what I'm doing. I'm too old for this and I'm sure you'd tease me if we had somehow kept in touch. I don't blame you if you thought I died in Raccoon City, I hope you're still alive and that life is good to you.

You were always important to me, I think you've given me something to cling to over the years. This letter won't find you and I'm not even really sure if I want it to, but I hope you'd still call me if you were able to. You wouldn't believe the things I've seen, but I'm happy you never got to see them.

Love, Leon

p.s. I'd say I love you but it feels like something you'd say in person"

#leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #resident evil #resident evil x reader

286 notes · View notes