#it’s gotten so warm over the last 10 years

[system-to-the-madness]

Fire Bending - Zuko x Reader

Word Count: 2 329 Warnings: kidnapping, slavery, human trafficking, colonialism, mentions of: torture, physical violence, death Summary: You learn about a camp where your kidnapped sister might be held, so Zuko and you head out to find her   A/N: Part Seven of the series Perfect (10 times Zuko thought you were perfect and the first time he told you)

It was the middle of the night, when Zuko woke up. Staring at the fabric to the tent stretching over his head, he wondered whether there was a specific reason why he had woken up. There was no noise outside, no storm or rain, no voices, no footsteps either.

It had been not even a full day since he had come back to ember island with you after saving your sister. Upon your arrival in the middle of the night, Aang, Katara, Sokka, Suki and Toph had welcomed you excitedly, immediately making sure Xiang got as much to eat as she liked and preparing a tent for her, even though she ended up sleeping in yours. Zuko had slept in late that day, and after he had gotten up, had learnt more about Xiang’s story, which just had reinforced his resolve in making sure the school, and any other of its kind would be disband after his father had been defeated.

The whole day Zuko had wanted to talk more to you, about your Fire Bending, about your sister and family, about anything at all, really, as long as it gave him an excuse to talk to you. But you had been so busy with taking care of your sister, getting her new clothes, food, introducing her to everyone around, that there had only been little time for him, and while Zuko felt a little frustrated, he could perfectly understand your priorities.

After a few minutes of laying in the dark, he started feeling more awake than sleepy, and thus decided that perhaps it was time to get up. Crawling out of his tent, he found the night was warm, making the combination of his simple tunic together with his trousers enough to not get cold. Quickly he slipped into his sandals and snuck past the other tents. A soft glow, emitted by some glow-stone Toph had found for Xiang, shone from your tent, and for a moment Zuko was tempted to see whether you were awake, but reminded himself just in time that it was the middle of the night. So instead, he crept on, quietly making his way past the tents and towards the beach. He had always loved this beach. It was secluded, sealed away from the other beaches by the spiky rocks the island was made of. The only ways to access it were the stairs that lead down from his family’s holiday home or the cliff on which team Avatar had taken up camp. Even during the busiest days of the summer, nobody ever came down to this beach, except for him and his family. But it had to have been years since either of them had last relaxed in the white sand.

All the more he was surprised, when he now spotted some figure close to the water, lit up in the moonlight. It only took him a moment to recognize the person as you, and he almost would have called out your name, when suddenly the glow of fire, originating in your palms, lit up your face. Were you practicing Fire Bending? He stopped in his tracks and watched as the flame died down again, only to grow back a moment later. You were timing the size of the flame with your breathing, he realized. It was an exercise his teachers had made him do for hours on end when he had first started out learning how to Fire Bend. How did you know about that? Had you come up with this yourself?

He wasn’t sure whether he had made a sound or a movement you had noticed, but suddenly the flames died down completely, and you called his name.

“Zuko, is that you?”

Quickly he nodded and slithered down the last meter to the sand.

“Yeah, it is,” he answered, walking over to where you stood at the water. “What are you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” you admitted. “What about you?”

“Me neither,” he shrugged. “You were practicing Fire Bending?”

“Not really…”

“Show me,” he demanded, crossing his arms over his chest and earning an eye roll from you.

“But don’t laugh, okay,” you requested.

Really? Why would he laugh at you? You were practicing, and any kind of practice was admirable, not something to be belittled.

Zuko kept those thoughts to himself and only nodded before he watched you lift your hands in front of you, the right hand, palm facing downwards hovering over your left hand, its palm facing up.

You inhaled deeply and with the exhale, a flame flickered alight between your palms, it danced and flickered, as if threatening to go out again, and as you inhaled again, it did. It disappeared into a small cloud of smoke and reappeared as you exhaled once more, still as fragile and small as the first time around.

“This already looks pretty promising,” Zuko nodded approvingly. “What made you think to time it with your breathing?”

You let your hands sink to your sides and shrugged.

“Back when I was still living in Yu Dao, before we moved to the earth kingdom, there were kids in my school who were Fire Benders. They always would show off their Bending with this exercise,” you recalled.

So, you hadn’t figured it out by yourself? Zuko was almost relieved, otherwise he’d have to deal with the most brilliant Fire Bender the world had ever seen. But then again, you had, without any training whatsoever, produced fire spears, so you still might be considered more talented than even his father.

“But I can’t seem to keep the flame around,” you admitted. “It always extinguishes when I inhale.”

Zuko nodded. “It’s hard to maintain the flame for a longer period of time,” he agreed. “But it’s a good exercise. May I ask why you’re training down here, at night? And not up on the cliff during the day?”

You averted your eyes almost shamefully, making a knot appear in Zuko’s stomach.

“I don’t want the others to be scared. And if I lose control over the fire, I can use the sea water to extinguish it.”

“I see…” Zuko watched you for a moment. “You know, the moon and the water are making it harder for you to bend, right? Water is the natural opposite of fire. Just like Aang struggled with Earth Bending, because it’s the natural opposite of Air Bending. Us Fire Benders, you know, we’re the most powerful in the sun. You’re throwing boulders in your way if you train by moonlight this close to the water.”

“But what if I lose control? I can’t let anyone get hurt!”

“Well,” Zuko stepped forward and grabbed your wrist softly, guiding you a few steps away from the water. “I’m here now. Let’s bring some distance between you and the water, and if you lose control, I’m here to help, alright?”

You nodded and allowed him to guide you into the middle of the beach, a safe distance away from both the cliffs and the water, over which the horizon was gradually growing brighter. The night was almost over.

“Now try again,” he encouraged, and you lifted your hands once more, summoning the small flame. It still extinguished upon your inhale, but this time it seemed to flicker less.

“Can I give you some tips,” Zuko asked, making you drop your hands again and you nodded. “First of all: your hands. You’re holding them very stiffly away from your body. Try holding them like this instead.”

He reached out, carefully adjusting your hands so your elbows were bent and your hands closer to your body.

“Having the fire so close can be scary, but it allows for better control of the flame,” he told you.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to calm down.

“And your stance… you’re standing very straight. Try to bring your feet apart a little, like this, and bend your knees.” Zuko demonstrated what he was trying to explain, watching your attempt to mirror him.

“Like this?”

“Hm, almost,” Zuko tilted his head, trying to remember how his teachers had guided him when he had been little. They had always stood behind him, guiding his small body’s movements with their own body. “May I?”

You nodded even though you didn’t really seem to know what he was up to, and he felt you stiffen up, when he walked around you, standing right behind your back.

“Your feet need to be a little more like this,” he instructed, placing his hands at your waist and using his foot to adjust yours. “And bend your knees a little.” Using his own knee, he nudged yours from behind and into the right position. “And now you just have to take your hands like this…”

He let go of your waist and reached around you, taking your wrists and maneuvered them to where he thought they needed to be.

And suddenly he realized the position the two of you were in. Him, standing behind you, his whole front pressed to your back, you completely trusting him not to hurt you. After months and months of chasing you and threatening to hurt your friends, you now stood so close to him, utterly defenceless. And all Zuko could think about was how nice your body felt against his, warm and alive.

“Zuko? Uhm…”

Zuko had frozen in place and only your slightly confused voice tore him out of his stupor.

“What do I do now?”

Quickly he let go of you and stumbled backwards, apologizing over and over again.

“I didn’t mean to- I’m sorry, I didn’t realize-”

“Zuko, Zuko!”

Your call for his name interrupted his rambling as you caught his wrist in your hand the same way he had done so many times with yours already.

“It’s okay, you hear? I would���ve said something if I had minded.”

You were standing too close; he couldn’t think properly. All he could think about was how beautiful you looked, with the sky that kept growing brighter reflecting in your eyes and your face so close to his. It wasn’t fair, really. How perfect you were all the time. It made catching a clear thought very hard.

Instead, all he could think about was how much he wanted to kiss you. Yeah, it was a stupid, romantic idea, kissing you, his former enemy, during a sunrise at the beach. But what else was he supposed to think with how close you had moved to him, your hand still around his, the other one lightly resting against his chest where his heart seemed to be beating twice as hard as it usually did. Could you really blame him for having such thoughts now?

His eyes skipped to your lips, and he was sure he had to be blushing, but if you minded, you didn’t mention it. Instead, he realized that your own eyes had skipped to his lips as well, and a moment later a smile tucked at your lips as you looked back up to his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?”

Zuko couldn’t help the furrow that appeared between his brows. He had never asked Mai if she wanted him to kiss her, nor had she asked him. Getting asked was… it was nice. It felt like he had some sort of control over the situation, when really, he felt anything but control over the way his thoughts were so completely focused on you and his heart beating harder than he had ever imagined possible.

Instead of answering, he just nodded weakly, watching how your eyes skipped back and forth between his eyes and lips a few times before you slowly leant in, brushing your lips against his. The kiss was awkward and slow, but at the same time it was the best kiss Zuko could imagine. It made his heart soar, and as ridiculous as it sounded, it made him feel like he was where he belonged. As if something had snapped into place, and he was finally on the right track. Everything seemed so clear in this moment, clearest of all that you and he were made for each other.

You gasped against his lips as he placed his hands on your hips and pulled you closer to his body, but wrapped your arms around his neck, making him smile into the kiss. When had been the last time he had been this happy? He couldn’t remember. Had he ever been? Feeling your body against his, your lips, your hands, it made him feel like after all that had happened, he might still have the chance for a happy end, one where he was actually happy and not just at the place, he had always imagined he should be at.

By the time you moved away from the gentle, and truthfully rather innocent kisses he had been sharing with you, the sun had risen over the horizon, blinding him as he blinked his eyes open. You were smiling at him, and for a long moment he couldn’t understand why life should ever be anything other than kissing under the sunrise.

“Do you… ahm… do you want to try Fire Bending again,” he offered, suddenly feeling awkward, but at the same time utterly content with this latest development.

Determined you nodded.

“Now with the sun up it should be easier, right,” you asked, turning in his arms so your back was turned to him. “What was the stance again? Like this?”

You tried assuming the stance Zuko had guided you into earlier, making him smile.

“Almost,” he nodded, moving closer behind you, the smile on his lips broadening as he felt you relax against him. “Just bend your knees more like this.”

By the time the rest of the team woke up, you were still not able to produce a continuous flame, but the flames you did produce were a lot more stable. And Zuko was grinning from one ear to the other for no apparent reason at all.

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[pastel-pinku]

Our cold weather will only last one more week apparently before it returns to the usual regular 6degree c

[ienjoywritingfilth]

a sinner i am

If its so wrong, why does it feel so good?

trope: Boyfriend's Dad PP character: Joel Miller x f reader summary: Your boyfriend Shawn Miller and his dad Joel bring you along to Hawaii for Christmas vacation. Things don't go as planned.

warning: 10/10 on the sexual tension scale, slowishh burn, kissing, grinding, cheating on your bf (but it’s cool, cuz its with Joel and everything is fictional in this universe), alternative universe b/c daddy miller stays alive and hates golf and he has a son named Shawn, no Sarah. rating: E

words 6.8k

wanna see my other stuff?

part i : takeoff

The best things in life are the people we love, the places we’ve been, and all the memories we’ve made along the way. - author unknown

"Loving him is a sin; of that I'm fully aware. But a sinner I am." - Bella Jewel

Your boyfriend Shawn brings over two iced coffees as the two of you work on a crossword together at your local coffee shop. You have been filling in the squares quickly.

"Thanks babe," you say warmly as you take the coffee from him. He presses a kiss to your temple, taking a seat next to you. 

"Damn, you're fast this mornin'," he says when he sees all you've filled in. It's a tradition for the two of you; weekend crosswords over coffee. It's nice. It's domestic. 

It's a little boring. 

You're college sweethearts who met your sophomore year and have been inseparable since. And while the love is still very much there the butterflies have unfortunately been hibernating for a while. 

It's normal, you tell yourself when you sometimes zone out during sex. It's normal when you've been together with someone so long. 

"It's so nice to be doing this instead of college essays," you say. 

"Fuck yeah it is." 

This is your first summer of freedom without the threat of schoolwork looming in the near distance. Shawn is starting his master's in the fall and you've just accepted a position at the local museum. 

“Just think I’ll actually be able to enjoy Christmas this year,” you tease. “Unlike someone who’ll be working on essays.”

“Hey now,” Shawn says with mock offence. “I’ll be able to enjoy my Christmas just fine. Actually, my dad wants to celebrate Christmas somewhere warm this year. He's talkin' about some resort in Hawaii."

Shawn comes from money, the son of the infamous Joel Miller of The Miller Company, the premiere construction firm in Texas. This means expensive vacations, nice cars, all of that is normal for him. You meanwhile have had to work hard for everything you have.

Being left behind at Christmas seems strangely unkind for the normally thoughtful head of the Miller family. Shawn's dad has always treated you like one of the family so this news is unexpected.

"Have a great time," you say trying not to be jealous. "Bring me back some chocolate macadamia nuts."

You can admit that even though both Shawn and his father are humble, kind men, you're always a bit bitter that they live so nicely. Leaving you out of their holiday vacation seems especially unkind. 

"He's taking both of us babe," Shawn says with a grin. "You think he's gonna leave you behind on Christmas? After you’ve spent the last six with us?" 

Christmas in Hawaii? Is this a dream? Your pencil lays forgotten on the table as you gape open-jawed at your boyfriend. 

"Are you serious?"

"Babe," Shawn says meaningfully. "My dad likes you better than he likes me. Of course you're invited."

You've always gotten along with Joel. It's impossible not to. He's friendly, funny and charming. There's a reason he's good at his job. And you're a good girl, a kind girlfriend to his son with clear career ambitions. 

A smile breaks out over your features and you pull Shawn into a tight hug. He chuckles, embracing you back, kissing your cheek. 

"Make sure you don’t overpack, okay?" He murmurs in your ear as you giggle. “I don’t feel like helping you haul six bags of shoes for a week-long trip.”

Thoughts of lounging by the pool with a drink in one hand and a magazine in the other while the Hawaiian sun beats down on you is all too enticing. You kiss him fiercely, imagining the time together.

"I can't wait." 

The two of you finish the crossword puzzle all the while talking about the drinks and food and the excursions you'll both take. 

"Maybe once I've got a handle on school we can think about findin' an apartment in the new year," Shawn broaches, his hand over yours.

Sex fades, but this? This domestic stuff you have with Shawn? That's special. That's love. 

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He gives you a smile, that dimple poking out of his cheek that makes you swoon.

"Ready to go?" Shawn asks, extending his hand to you when your coffees are drained. 

"Yeah," you say with your hand taking his. "Let's go."

When December twentieth announces itself with a thunderstorm you couldn’t care less because you’re at the airport. Your large rolling bag bag is stuffed with cute outfits, swimsuits and even some snorkelling gear. 

"Feels like you got a dead body in here," Shawn laughs as he struggles with the two bags, handing you yours before swinging an arm around your shoulders. 

"I wanted to be prepared."

"Let's go my little Girl Scout," he laughs with a gentle kiss to your temple. You both check in and then find your boarding gate. 

"I'm gonna grab breakfast, you want anything?" Shawn asks as he parks you and the suitcases by the gate full of noisy travellers. 

"Nah, I'm good." 

Shawn jogs off in the direction of a Starbucks you passed on your way in. 

Out the larger windows you can see planes taking off. You've never flown before; you thought that you'd be excited. But at the first view of those planes out the window you feel your stomach drop. 

They’re so big and bulky. How does it fly properly? It couldn’t. What if people shift around too much in their seats? Surely this can’t be a safe form of travel!

You pull out your phone, distracting yourself with a game. You try for several moments but your eyes keep being drawn to the huge planes outside. You grimace, wondering if you should have gotten your doctor to prescribe you something for anxiety. 

"Cheer up," a voice says. "You look like you're goin' to prison, not a five star resort." 

You glance over to see Shawn's dad, Joel, at the other side of you, an amused look on his handsome face. He's wearing jeans and a faded grey Longhorns t-shirt. You're momentarily thrown as normally you see him in dress pants and button downs for work. 

"I'm excited for the resort, just not the giant metal death box hurling through the air that is my only means of getting there." 

"Touche."

Shawn jokes about Joel liking you better then he likes him, but the truth is you and Joel are very similar. Your senses of humour, your ability to read people, your tendency to see the worst in people before they prove themselves worthy.

Shawn is more like his mom, sweet and naive at times, always seeing the good in people. It's ironic considering which parent stuck around to raise him and which one escaped the country six years after Shawn was born. 

Joel takes the empty seat next to you, his kneecap kissing yours as he pulls out his phone. 

"Never flown before," you explain. 

"Ah, I see," Joel puts his phone in his pocket, his attention fully fixed on your face. "Well what if I told you it's actually the safest way to travel?"

"I'd call you a liar."

Joel chuckles richly, his hand falling to your knee and squeezing as he laughs. 

"I promise you, I wouldn't take you on anything unsafe. And if all that's not good enough, you'll have Shawn beside you holding your hand the whole time."

You grin at that, nodding. The thought of Shawn being there does help your anxiety. Joel smiles back, eyes crinkling in the corners. 

"Thank you so much for inviting me along in this trip, Joel. I've always wanted to go to Hawaii."

"S'a beautiful place," Joel nods. "And you don't need to thank me. You're practically family at this point." 

Shawn returns with a muffin and two coffees in hand. 

"Hey dad, got you a coffee," Shawn says handing it to his father. 

"Thanks," Joel says gratefully. Just then the intercom alert sounds 

"Good afternoon passengers.This is the announcement for flight 82B for Oahu, Hawaii. We are now inviting passengers to begin boarding. Please have your boarding pass and identification ready. Thank you.”

“That’s us.”

The lineup goes uncomfortably fast. You stand beside Sean who is talking to Joel behind you, the two of them deep in conversation about football, a subject you couldn't care less about. You are still too preoccupied with the flight, being surrounded by almost all strangers sailing through the sky. 

You're not a fan of heights. So when you get to the door of the plane you hesitate, willing your foot to move. When it doesn't and the flight attendants shoot you a confused look, you feel yourself start to panic. 

Shawn has gone on ahead to grab your seats and place your carry-on bag in the overhead bin, not noticing that you're not behind him. A large hand flies to the small of your back, a comforting gesture. Joel. He rubs there, soothing you. 

"You'll be okay darlin'," he rumbles in your ear. "Remember, it’s safer than drivin' a car."

“Liar.”

Joel’s deep chuckle makes you grin and you allow Joel to gently prod you onto the plane, shooting the waiting attendants grateful looks for their patience. He takes his seat near the front, watching as you make your way to your seat next to Shawn. As you buckle in a thought occurs to you and you move your voice to a whisper.

"Isn't it gonna be kinda weird with us being there all week with just your dad? I mean, sharing the place and all?" 

"Nah, he made sure the rooms were far apart. Plus, he invited his girlfriend to come along so I doubt we'll see much of him."

Joel is a chronic workaholic, often pulling late nights and working on his phone. You’ve seen him out and about with beautiful women at the events Shawn takes you to but never formally dating them. You always assumed to be a lifelong bachelor. You wouldn't blame him, especially after what he's been through with Shawn's mother. 

"I didn't know he had a girlfriend," you say honestly. "Good for him."

"A couple months now," your boyfriend tells you. "You know my dad, mister private. But he took me to dinner and told me about her so I think he's getting serious." 

"That's really sweet," you say honestly. You want nothing but the best for him. 

All of a sudden the plane starts to jiggle, sending people stumbling down the aisles and others gasping in surprise. You reach over and grab Shawn's hand, trying to regulate your breathing. 

"Not so tight, babe," Shawn complains before gently sliding his hand from under yours. "You scratched me with your nails."

"Sorry," you mumble, eyes closed as the jostling of the plane continues.  

You tighten your seat belt before gripping the seat arms so tightly that your knuckles are white. Sean squeezes your kneecap, murmuring that everything will be okay and that you’re safe. You keep your eyes closed, trying to focus on the soothing sounds of his words.

Eventually the plane enters smooth skies and the seat belt sign is turned off. Despite this you remain keyed up, sitting stiffly as Shawn fades into a nap. 

"Excuse me, Miss?"

You crack open an eye to see a beautiful redheaded flight attendant bending down towards you with a glass of what appears to be whisky in her hand.  She extends it towards you and you take it confused.

"This is from the gentleman in A-1. He says to take this and you'll be relaxed for the rest of the flight." 

You look up a few rows to see Joel giving you a brief wave. You thank the women before raising it towards Joel in a Cheers motion. 

Drink it. Joel mouths. 

Yes, sir. You mouth back complete with a stiff fake salute before tossing back the drink. 

He grins at you before settling back in his seat. 

The drink does the job. 

"Here we are."

The cab drops the three of you in front of the beach resort. When you step out the air is fragrant with the scent of flowers. You wait while Joel checks you all in before he's back, motioning for you both to follow. 

There's the main section of the resort with luxurious hotel rooms. The more secluded section contains a variety of self contained houses that dot the waterfront. Its reserved for people who have unlimited credit card limits and drive cars that cost more than your parents first home.

When you arrive to your unit, your eyes are ready to bug out of your head. It's massive, as far as vacation rentals go. When you all step into the air conditioned unit you have to take a moment to take it all in. 

The beach house is beautiful with floor to ceiling windows, stunning tile floors and tasteful furniture. All of this is topped off with spectacular views of the beach outside your door. 

A plate of sliced pineapple and chilled wine sits on the kitchen table, along with a note that Joel reads when he wanders over. 

"Welcome note," he explains when he sees you looking at it. "I knew the owner back in trade school." 

You and Shawn nod, your boyfriends hand trailing down your back gently. It's much the same as what Joel did back at the airplane, but it feels different. You trail your suitcase behind you hearing the clack of it against the stone floor as you move around the room. 

"Wow." 

It's all you can utter as the three of you tour the rest of the unit. There’s a simple kitchen with an expensive looking coffee machine and a brand new bag of kona coffee waiting to be used.  The living room holds a table and four chairs, a few board games and a list of nearby places to visit along with the wifi code.  The couch is simple, placed in front of a large television that you’re sure you won’t use.

"My bedrooms on the right," Joel tells you both. "Yours it's on the left. We're sharin’ a bathroom, sorry about that. Pretty common in these places." 

Who cares about sharing a bathroom when you're in one of the most beautiful places you've ever been? Even the bathroom is beautiful with its high waterfall shower head and sleek marble. This place must have cost a fortune for the week. 

Joel encourages you both to take a look at your room down the hall and you don't hesitate to take Shawn's hand, dragging him there. Shawn pushes open the door to the bedroom and you can't hold in your shriek. 

"Holy shit! It's gorgeous!" 

The big windows overlook the ocean, the late afternoon beach beckoning to you. The bed is large and plush with white sheets, and framed prints of Oahu sunsets. Its spacious, the bed so large it looks like two giant beds pushed together. The closet is spacious and boats dozens of wood coat hangers.

“Wood, because it’s classy,” you tell Shawn in amusement who is already unpacking his suitcase while you continue to stare in a daze. 

"You like it?"

Joel is standing at the door frame, a shoulder balanced against it, watching you take it all in. He's smiling at you in that gentle, sweet way of his that makes you feel cared for. 

You're suddenly overcome with gratitude and you streak over to him. 

"Thank you, Joel!" You say, throwing your arms around his neck and hugging him. "This is the most beautiful place I've ever been."

Joel laughs along with Shawn at your embrace and enthusiasm, holding you around the middle and hoisting you in his arms. Your face presses into his neck as he squeezes you, and the scent of leather and sandalwood envelops you. 

You've never really hugged Joel before. Maybe a polite side hug during family events, a high-five during baseball games and even once a hard push to his shoulder when he made fun of you for being afraid of a spider that had gotten into the house. 

But you've never had your front pressed to his, never really felt the muscles of his back and arms, seen the tendons in his neck or realized just how big his hands are when they squeeze your waist before lowering you.  

"I guess that means you like it," he says, red-faced. You pull back, embarrassed at your overzealous response. 

Shawn and his dad are very similar in their looks. Except Shawn is clean-shaven while Joel has a beard and Shawn's eyes are hazel like his mom's while Joel's are the darkest brown you've ever seen. You've never really noticed how dark until this very moment. 

You shoot him a cheery thank you again before smiling and skipping over to Shawn announcing that you'll unpack as well. 

"You two enjoy, I gotta make a few calls but then we can head out to dinner."

"Sounds great," Shawn says as he searches for his phone charger. 

Joel closes the door behind him and you turn to your boyfriend. You can't explain it but you feel turned on. The Hawaiian air must be doing something to you because

You crawl towards where he kneels unpacking. You grin, feeling the pulse of desire hitting you below the navel. You kneel beside him, dropping your voice to a husky murmur. 

"Should we break the bed in?" 

An hour later the three of you are sitting at a local eatery. Joel and Shawn are talking with one another while you scan the busy restaurant. 

Couples, families, all laughing and cheerful. And why wouldn't they? This is Paradise after all. But you don't feel anything like it, if anything, you feel like a little black rain cloud. 

Shawn turned down your earlier advances, citing that he was too tired. The problem is for the past three months Shawn has been too tired most of the time. At first he blamed grad school but when you pointed out he still made lots of time for gaming with best friends Brian and Kevin he'd been quick to explain that gaming relaxed him. 

That conversation had gone over about as well as a turd in the punch bowl. You remember being so hurt at what you felt was a slight against you. Weren't you relaxing? Weren't you something that made him happy? 

So yeah, you had hoped that this little vacation might stir some of that old spark back. But maybe you were too eager. You had just arrived at the place after all. Maybe you were being unfair. Still, the rejection stung.

"Thought we could do all the tourist-y shit while we're here," Joel says after you've all placed your orders. "Luau, sunset cruise."

"Snorkelling?" Shawn offers. 

"Hell yes," Joel nods grinning. "ATV tour too."

The Millers like to have fun. They also like to keep busy. It's like second nature to them to be off on adventures or activities. You meanwhile plan on spending lots of time by the pool or the beach, reading and drinking. 

"What about you, darlin'?" Joel asks between sips of whisky. "What're you hopin' to do?"

You know exactly what. The thing you've been dying to do since you were a kid at the aquarium. 

"I wanna swim with the turtles."

Shawn bursts into amused laughter beside you, and if you weren't already irritated with him before, you certainly are now. He grins at you not understanding that you're secretly furious with him. 

"Turtles? Really?"

"What's wrong with turtles?"

"Seems kinda babyish doesn't it?"

"What's babyish about liking animals?" Joel cuts in. "You forgetting about the time we wouldn't let you in the petting zoo and you threw your shoe at me?"

"I was five, dad."

"Yeah well, some things don't change," Joel says with a smirk. "Still throwin' tantrums when you don't get your way."

"Fuck off old man," Shawn says through chuckles. “Don’t forget I’m your only child. I pick which retirement home I’m gonna stick you in when your mind goes.”

“Little bastard,” Joel mutters, trying to hold back a loud laugh.

He settles for tossing a drink umbrella in Shawn’s direction, chuckling when Shawn dodges it easily. You can't help but laugh along with him, your bad mood fading. 

By the time dessert arrives you're all several glasses of wine in reminiscing about Shawn's last attempt at surfing. 

"I've gotten better," he exclaims. “I swear.”

"Yeah well we'll see about that," Joel says paying the check. "Alright team, let's head back and get some shut eye. This old man needs it." 

You roll your eyes at that. Joel isn't even fifty and even if he was he's about the best looking man his age bracket and younger. You've seen the way women stare at him, whispering, blushing when he looks their way. He is not what you’d qualify as old.

The three of you arrive back at the unit to the sound of nighttime creatures croaking and buzzing. 

"Alright I'll meet you two out here tomorrow morning around nine. We can go to the excursion desk and plan the week. Sound good?"

"Sounds good, night Dad."

"Night Joel."

The three of you part ways into the opposite bedrooms. Shawn nuzzles your neck gently kissing there. He always does that when he's been drinking. You smile delightedly at this, eager to get into bed.

When the lights are off and the two of you have slipped off your clothes and under the covers you roll towards him, peppering his face with soft kisses. 

"It's late, babe," he murmurs, kissing you sweetly but with finality. 

"We're on vacation," you remind him, slipping your hand under his boxers.

You feel him slowly start to harden in your grip. You hear his breath hitch and you smile, knowing those sounds so intimately. You tug off your panties and slide onto his lap, preparing to ride him. 

"Fuck me," you whisper, hips grinding against his. "Wanna feel your cock in me."

“Baby, no.”

Shawn pulls you off of him and you tumble into the bed next to him, feeling your cheeks grow hot with humiliation.

"My dad is right across the hall," Shawn hisses. “I don’t want him hearing us.”

Rejection never sits well with you and immediately you feel yourself growing defensive. 

"You're dad is gonna be across the hall the whole week, Shawn,” you whisper angrily. “So what, we're not going to have fuck this entire trip?"

"We'll have sex," Shawn said rolling his eyes. "Just not when my dad is ten feet away sharing a fuckin' bathroom with us."

Bullshit. Another excuse to put off the intimacy that’s been dwindling for months. You push yourself from the bed, tugging on your dress from earlier. Shawn leans up on his elbows, giving you a look of concern.

"Where are you going?"

"A walk."

"I'll c---"

"No," you say sharp as a knife. "I want to go alone." 

You stalk out of the house, eyes glossy with hurt and anger. That's the thing they don't tell you about relationships that have gone on so long -- both partners need to work to keep the fires going. 

You make your way to the beach along the softly lit pathway. Its well after midnight and the resort is quiet; the lights dimmed or off entirely. You take a seat on a nearby rock, listening to the gentle sound of the evening waters lapping by the shore. You're very excited to go swimming tomorrow. To feel the warm sand underneath your feet. 

You can hear noise coming from the far end of the resort. You remember over dinner Joel going through the resort map on his phone, letting you know what amenities they had. He had told you both about the dance club the resort had.

Shawn had immediately laughed, stating that he’d take a pass on it.  Shawn hates dancing. You tried to get him to do dance lessons with you once but he wouldn't even give it a shot. 

Right now it seems all you can do is focus on Sean's flaws. You know that he's a decent man, you know the treats you well, but there are these bugaboos these irritants that can't help frustrate you right now. 

"Fuck it," you murmur to yourself, raising yourself from the sand and brushing it from your sundress. You follow the sound of the music, stopping in front of a door with blinking lights. A man in a blue Hawaiian shirt smiles at you when you approach. 

"Aloha, may I ask your Unit number?"

"Number 4, under Miller."

The man types into his computer before nodding, opening the door for you. You step into the darkness, letting your eyes adjust to the blue lights and colourful dance floor. The speakers are playing typical vacation music with a heavy bass.

Bodies writhe on the dance floor, half naked in revealing dresses or in the men's case, unbuttoned shirts. You order a drink at the bar, taking it with you as you scout the area for a free chair. A hand on your wrist surprises you.

"Joel?"

Joel is seated at one of the small circle tables nursing what appears to be a tumbler of Scotch. He motions for you to take the free chair next to him and you do gratefully falling into it, your arm bumping his. 

"What are you doin' here? Since when does Shawn dance?" He asks over the bass, grinning. He looks a bit tipsy, his neck red. 

"He doesn't, I'm here alone. I needed to blow off some steam," you tell him over the music. 

"Me too," he says loudly back. "Couldn't sleep. Too excited, I guess." 

You nod, looking back at the dance floor wistfully. Everyone looks like they're having such a fun time, their worries and concerns far away from them as they undulate to the rhythm of the music.  Joel takes another sip of his drink, watching you from the corner of his eyes. 

You wish Shawn was here with you, you wish he was spinning you around on the dance floor. You wish it was like those early years where you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other.

"You and Shawn doin' okay?"

Joel's voice cuts into your confusing thoughts. You glance his way.

"Why do you ask?"

"Cuz I'm a dad," Joel. "And I've been married. And I know what tension between two people looks like." 

You sigh heavily, your mind drifting to earlier. You don’t answer Joel because what would you tell him? You can’t tell your boyfriend’s dad that you’re worried his son is growing distant. You can’t tell him that your sex life has been disintegrating for the past several months. Instead you just shrug.

"You two talked about marriage?"

"What? No.”

You and Shawn have been together a long time, but you have no intention of settling down anytime soon. Sean is still doing his masters and you're loving your job at the museum.

"Good. No, not like that," Joel amends when he sees your stricken expression. "I just mean you're both so young."

"You were younger than us when you got married.”

"Yeah and look where that got me," he says with a scoff. 

"Yeah, well, I think it's just been a long time and we're hitting a rough patch. Nothing we can't overcome," you add quickly. "It's just hard sometimes, you know?"

"Yeah," Joel nods. "I know." 

The two of you lapse into silence, watching the twirling, shouting, laughing people swan around you. You shouldn’t be glum, you should be experiencing life!

"You wanna dance?"

His voice is low and husky in your ear. You start, surprised to see Joel inches from your face. You know he's speaking so close to you because it's so loud in here, but it doesn't stop your pulse from ticking at the shock. 

"Don't really know how.”

"Shit reason. C'mon."

Joel throws back the rest of his drink and drags you onto the dance floor. You laugh as he spins you, both of you almost knocking into an older couple who are taking the dance very seriously. They shoot you both a nasty look and you and Joel have to work hard to muffle your laughter. 

"You're gonna get us kicked out!"

"Nah," Joel shakes his head, spinning you again but closer to him. "I'm too charmin’."

"You think pretty highly of yourself don't you?"

Joel shrugs, laughing as the song ends. Another quick one begins and Joel looks serious. 

"I'm gonna teach you some moves Shawn's mom taught me."

"Okay."

You're surprised, he doesn't really mention Shawn's mother very often. 

You watch as Joel attempts to teach you some simple dance moves. You don't know if it's the stuffy club, the drinks running through your veins or the fact that you're dancing with your boyfriend's dad, but you can't really focus on the steps.

"I give up," you moan after the fifth failed attempt at a two-step. 

"You ain't a quitter," Joel assures you, trying to spin you slowly so you can get your footing. 

You never realized that Joel was such a good dancer. Watching him move his tall body is strangely hypnotizing, mainly because you never expected a man that broad and muscular to move so fluidly. 

"Atta girl," he says proudly when you get some of the footing correct. 

You smirk when you see the women nearby watching him, shooting him smiles. But his focus is on you, teaching you the moves and assuring you: it's alright darlin', we'll get you there just take your time. 

You're having so much fun with him you barely realize that an hour has gone by and you can only tell when you realize the back of your neck is damp with sweat. 

You're about to announce your heading back to the unit when the beat slows and many trickle off the dance floor. It's a slow song, and only the couples remain in the glowing dance floor. 

You go to step off when you feel Joel spin you again, back into his arms. You smile breathlessly up at him, the two of you shiny from perspiration from the dancing and the warm crowded space. 

Joel is looking at you strangely, his eyes luminous in the reflection of the twinkling club lights. When he slides a hand at your lower back and urges your hands around his neck you don't hesitate. You lace your fingers there, shifting from foot to foot.

You feel strange to be dancing with Joel. And not because he makes you feel uncomfortable, it's the opposite, actually. You feel almost too comfortable. Joel’s eyes are trailing over your face, sometimes highlighted by the flash of the DJ’s lights.

“You talked to Shawn about all that’s botherin’ you and this rough patch?” Joel asks out of nowhere.

He looks vulnerable; unlike the Joel you know who is all smiles and jokes.

“Kinda,” you say shyly, looking over his shoulder. “It’s just hard. . . We can both get pretty defensive. Plus, I wonder if I’m maybe being unfair. He’s in school and everything.”

“Uh huh, and you started that museum job didn’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“Pretty demanding job, ain’t it?”

“Yeah.”

Joel gives you a look as he rocks you both from side to side

“Can I say somethin’ you might not wanna hear?”

You nod.

“In my experience, it takes two people to make a relationship. Not one puttin’ in all the effort while the other one has his or her head in the sand.”  

You nod slowly, absorbing his words. The song ends and Joel releases his hands you’re your waist before he announces he has to hit the washroom. You head to the bar for a glass of water and to wait for him. 

"Hi beautiful." 

An Australian man around Joel's age with a moustache is leaning against the bar next to you. His eyes are bleary and red-rimmed, his cheeks ruddy. He’s obviously very drunk. You give a forced smile before going back to wait for your water.

"Can I get you a drink?"

"No thanks," you answer quickly. "Just getting water." 

"How about a dance then?"

"I'm good," you say forcing a polite smile. You’re facing away from him, eyes on the bartender hoping he notices you.  

"C'mon beautiful," the man insists, eyes sliding over your chest in a very obvious way. "I'm a good dancer too. Could give you lots of lessons." 

"She said no."

Joel's voice is there, having clearly come back from the bathroom. You step backwards and before you know it Joel is sliding his arm protectively around you.  You glance up to see Joel's face contorted into a mask of fury. His teeth are bared like some wild animal and he grips you tightly to him. 

"Sorry man," The guy says holding his hands up in surrender towards Joel. "Didn't know she was taken." 

Joel sneers before leading you out of the club. The cool air is a welcome reprieve when you step outside, breathing deeply. 

"That place is nothin' but perverts," Joel growls as the two of you make your way back along the beach in the direction of your unit. 

"Joel,  you were there," you say giggling. "That make you a pervert?"

"Ha ha."

You walk quietly along the shoreline, confused as to how you can feel this good when just an hour ago it felt like everything was falling apart. Maybe it’s the drink in your veins, maybe its Hawaii, or maybe it’s just Joel.

"Watch it--"

Joel takes your hand when you stumble over a rock in the semi darkness. You let him, not dropping it even when your walking evens out. It feels nice to walk hand in hand with him, it feels safe. He doesn't let go of your hand either as you continue along, your shoes making dual footprints in the sand. 

"Thanks for in there," you say. “I hate creepy guys like that.”

"Was nothin'," he says, then he drops your hand after a moment. "Shawn would have done the same."

"No, he wouldn't have." 

It slips out before you can stop yourself. Joel stops in the sand, his concern there in his face. It’s clear that what you’ve said has upset him.

"What?"

"He doesn't like confrontation, you know that," you say with a shrug. "And I like that about him."

"You do?" Joel challenges. "Really?" 

"Sometimes." 

Honestly you’ve never enjoyed the men who start fights for no reason, who act like cavemen when someone looks at their girlfriend. Shawn is too smart for that, too above it to engage with assholes like that. But you have to admit that there was a part of you that found Joel’s actions inside the club to be a bit attractive. Is that the word? Would you really call your boyfriend’s father attractive?

You look at him standing there, his grey t-shirt clinging to his muscles and wide shoulders, the muscular thighs in denim and you think, fuck, yeah he is attractive. You knew he wasn’t ugly, you’d just never looked at him like that. Like he was a man outside of being Shawn’s dad.

"I come from a time when you take care of what's yours." Joel runs a hand through his messy curls. "If you were mine I wouldn't let anyone talk to you the way that man did, let alone touch you." 

If you were mine. 

You can't understand why but you're nipples tighten under your dress at those words. The possessiveness in Joel's voice is so dark and husky. He’s looking off into the dark like he’s really upset.

"If I was yours," you murmur. 

His glazed eyes move from the beach over to your face. You’re standing so close to one another and you can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he breathes. His scotch-coated breath huffs over your cheeks and you swear you’re getting drunker just inhaling it.

You must be, because why else would you be putting your hands on his shoulders. Why else would you be pressing your mouth to his? Why else would you be tracing his plush lips with your tongue and whimpering when he groans into your parted mouth?

And he must be drunk because he doesn’t pull away or hesitate. He dips his head and his hands wrap around your waist, bringing your body against him tightly. His palms slide over your skin, desperate to touch you everywhere as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You welcome it, going gooey in his arms, allowing him to take what he wants from you.   

He’s so fucking broad, so strong, so masculine. You gasp into his mouth when he grips your ass with his big hands, pulling your hips against his, circling them as he kisses you. You feel his hardened cock through the layers of fabric, straining against the zipper of his jeans, desperate to bury itself in your slick heat.

To be desired like this feels powerful. It feels like years since Shawn wanted you like this much. It makes you lean more into Joel, desperate to keep the sensation going. His hands are sliding under your dress, up your silken thigh and you tremble.

A splash sounds nearby in the water, a fish or something startling you both and you simultaneously break apart. You both take a step back from one another in the sand, eyes wide. Joel looks completely crazed.

“The fuck—what are we doin’?” Joel whispers, the regret clear in both your faces.

You bring your trembling hands to your warm cheeks and tears immediately spring to your waterline.

What have you just done?

“Oh my fuck, no no, I don’t – I don’t know why-“

You bend at the waist, hands braced on your knees as you start to hyperventilate. Joel is pacing up and down the sand, his silhouette barely seen in the darkness of night. You can see his feet pacing back and forth. . . back and forth . . . He stops when you let out a hiccup, on the verge of throwing up.

“Honey stop,” Joel says, a hand on your back, rubbing gently along your spine. “Calm down. Calm down, its okay.”

“I don’t know why I did that,” you say, tears streaming down your face and dropping into the sand below. “What the fuck is wrong with me?”

“S’not your fault,” Joel says, his voice even and calm. It makes you feel calm. And yet, guilt still bubbles up in your lungs, making a small sob escape.

 “I have to—you need to—I need to tell Shawn. Right now.”

“Hold on,” Joel says roughly, gripping you by the shoulder and urging you to stand. He peers into your face with a grim expression.

“You cannot tell Shawn anythin’.”

“I have to,” you whine.

“It’ll just hurt him,” Joel insists, nodding and hoping you’ll do the same. “It was a mistake. It was nothing, it was just the booze. We just drank too much and we were all hopped up on that asshole inside the club and we weren’t thinkin’.”

“Right,” you agree, relief sliding through every vein you possess as he lays it out for you. “That’s totally what it was. The drinking. We’re drunk.”

“Completely.”

“Okay. Good.”

You’re still shaken up by what just happened, still tipsy from the drinks. Joel runs an anxious hand through his curls, looking utterly wrecked.

“Let’s go back.”

The two of you walk the rest of the way back in silence. You still cannot believe what you did. You kissed your boyfriend’s father. You kissed him and he kissed you back. Fuck, you both must be utterly wasted. Maybe if you’re lucky you’ll both forget it even happened. You would welcome the hangover from hell if it could erase the last fifteen minutes from both your minds for good.

Joel tugs open the sliding glass door, not able to look at you as you both pad towards the opposing doors. You glance over your shoulder to see Joel staring at you as you enter the bedroom where his son sleeps. You give him a sorrowful smile before closing the door.

You crawl under the covers, thankful that Shawn is asleep. You slip off the dress, your hair wild from dancing, your skin sticky with sweat, and your mouth still tasting of scotch. Your cunt flutters at the memory of the noises he made.

You roll onto your side, trying to drift to sleep. Shawn, still half-slumbering snuggles up against your back. His arm slips over your waist and he holds you, as he often holds you back home, gentle and tender and full of love.

“I’m sorry about before, babe,” he murmurs into your hair.

You feel tears burning the back of your eyes. You blink rapidly, closing your eyes and trying to swallow the guilt.

You know that Joel is in his bed right now similarly afflicted, thinking about how he did something so unforgivable and to his own son. Joel is the kindest dad you know; he loves his son more than anything. You know that what you both just did was awful and disgusting.

You also know that there is something deeply wrong with you because as you lay there in Shawn’s arms your pussy floods with memories of his father’s mouth on yours still vivid in your mind.  

do you guys want more of this? or should it be a one-shot? also trying a new aesthetic what do we tthink?

[escelia]

This is a follow-up/one-shot based on the fic I wrote here, which was based on the prompt by @ghostreblogging

I'm really having fun with Big Brother Danny AU~ big thanks to everyone taking the time to read it!

Not So Normal

Daniel Fenton-Wayne had been with the family for a while now. To say that he was odd would be an injustice because he wasn't really. At least, not compared to the rest of the costume wearing vigilante family. Danny was a civilian, albeit a strange one. Danny and Damian were close in age, and everyone could tell that Danny wanted to be a good big brother; he'd never had the chance to before. The strangeness came in when Damian brandished his many weapons toward Danny, and he... caught him mid launch. Just snatched the little bird out of the air for a hug. Damian had thought he was putting up a fight, but it was clear that Danny wasn't struggling. He seemed so casually unbothered by Damian's behavior, but he was normal, ya know?

Damian sneers and waves his fork menacingly at Danny during dinner?

"He's fine! He's like, what, 10 years old?"

Damian growled that he was clearly 12 and threw himself over the table at him.

Damian threatens him with his swords?

"Damian! No!"

"Nooooo! Don't discourage him! He might lose interest!" And even as the rest of the family assured him that that would be a good thing, he handed Damian the blade and asked if lessons were on the table so Damian could have a "competent sparring partner." He still tried to stab Danny after that.

As concerning as it always was when Damian tried to stab someone, they were all relieved that Daniel seemed to be able to handle the demon brat better than most. Eventually the baby bird would warm up to him and stop stabbing him so often, but until then, Danny could handle himself.

~~~~○•○•○~~~~

Let it be known that Damian did not have a favorite brother! They were all imbeciles with poor taste in humor and mediocre fighting skills. That being said, Danny did have a leg up over the others for inquiring about sword lessons to improve his fighting prowess, even if he was already surprisingly adequate for a civilian. Well, that and other things that Danny had admitted only to him in the months he'd been with the family. It was strange being the one he confided in, but he felt a sort of pride that, even though he'd tried to stab Daniel, he was still the one he went to when he needed to talk about stuff he hadn't told the others. So perhaps it wasn't that surprising that when he'd gotten in trouble, Danny was the one Damian called for.

Patrol that night had been boring and quiet. Too quiet. Way too quiet for Gotham, which meant that something bad was brewing. Batman had handed Robin off to Nightwing for the night while he poured over all the reports and data from the last few weeks to figure out what the rogues of Gotham could have planned. Nightwing was ashamed to say that the Joker had gotten the jump on them. He'd tied the two up, leaving their comms on so the rest of the bats could hear all of the terrible things Joker had planned for them. He included terrible reminders of how he'd murdered Jason and how he couldn't wait to pluck the wings from Batman's other birdies. Damian wanted to rip his throat out for that, but he was in no shape to fight. His family was in danger, so he called out to the only other person he trusted.

"DANIEL!" Damian screamed long and loud for his brother, the plea surging forth from deep in his chest. Dick looked horror stricken that his baby brother had called out for the one member of the family that wasn't a vigilante, painting a huge target on his back. But even as he could hear the commotion coming through the comms and see the panicked look on Dick's face, he called for Danny again. His brother would help. He would come!

The room's temperature dropped in an instant, their panting, panicked breaths fogging the air while the lights flickered. The Joker paused in his maniacal laughter to observe the Lazarus green pool forming on the ground between him and the birds. Frost and ice cracked through the concrete of the warehouse as a head of white hair with a crown of crystalline ice rose through the small pit and the Joker's veins flooded with dread at the too wide, too sharp smile on the thing's face.

"Don't worry, I'm here. You're safe," he cooed comfortingly back to Damian, his voice an otherworldly echo in the large space. "But you?" He gestured to the Joker with claw-like fingers. "Well, let's just say, I've been d̵͔̦̩̒̒̊ẙ̴̧͓͕̺ḯ̸͖̪͔n̶͉͛g̵̻̾͒͜ to get my hands on you."

It happened so fast that no one really knew if the Joker screamed or not. In one moment, the boy's body had morphed into a cloud of inky black scattered with what looked like honest to God stars that smothered the Joker, and in the next, he was gone. The being who, upon closer inspection, definitely looked like Danny if he had white hair and green eyes and was a literal Eldritch creature, was untying them with care.

"Danny?" Dick questioned. He acknowledged him with a quick nod before turning back to Damian, the one who had called.

"You came," the youngest mumbled.

"You called," Danny answered with a soft smile. "Did you think that I wouldn't?"

"No. I knew that you would. You're not incompetent like the others."

"You guys heard that, right? That was definitely a compliment!"

Damian huffed but sagged in relief once he and Dick were both untied.

"You- you're-" Dick stumbled over his words in astonishment. "Danny, you're a meta?"

"Technically, it's a medical condition, but details," he responded, waving off the rest of the question with a cheeky smile.

In Nightwing's ear Bruce asked to speak with Danny. He removed the earpiece and tapped Danny's arm with it, gesturing to his ear. The "meta" slid it on just in time to hear his adoptive father shout.

"We will be talking about this as soon as everyone gets home safe, am I understood!"

"Loud and clear, boss man!"

"Let it be known that I knew something was weird about Danny!" He heard Jason exclaim. "No offense man."

"None taken, my Revenant sibling mine."

"Where did the Joker even go?" Someone over the comms asked. Danny thought it was Steph.

"I sent him to clown jail. I hate clowns. I've literally never met one that hasn't tried to kill me or my family."

Upon learning that the Joker wasn't the first homicidal clown that their, before now, seemingly normal brother had met, the comms erupted into chaos. Danny tossed the earpiece back to Nightwing before whisking them away back to the cave under the manor. He had a lot of explaining to do.

[imaginespazzi]

Part 3: Miss Me, Miss Me Not

Masterlist - Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 4 - Part 5 - Part 6 - Part 7 - Part 8 - Part 9 - Part 10 - Part 11

And it hits me when the lights go on (shit, maybe I miss you)

(In which a lazy writer somehow still manages to make her deadlines, much to her own shock)

Pairing: Paige Bueckers X Azzi Fudd

Themes: Angst, Pining and a teensy bit of Fluff

Words: 5.8K

TW: Swearing (once again I think that's it?)

A/N: Hello my lovelies <3 I'm not gonna lie til about an hour ago, I very much did not think I was gonna give y'all a Monday update but here we are! A couple of housekeeping things, I went back and added months to the years so hopefully that's more helpful. I lowkey dislike this part but I felt like the fic needed it and I'm excited to write the next part. Ngl, the editing on this is pretty nonexistent because trying to read this back lowkey killed me so please feel free to point out mistakes so I can fix them. As always, let me know what you liked, and disliked and anything you wanna see going forward. I really appreciate all of y'alls feedback and the long reviews make my day! Have a good rest of your week lovies <3

September 2017

Azzi: just got home :) 

It’s a simple text and it should be easy for Paige to conjure up an equally simple reply. Instead she finds herself typing and deleting, over and over, because nothing sounds quite right. There’s this hollow feeling thrumming in her chest, that has only gotten stronger every passing minute since she’d said goodbye to Azzi at the airport. If she tries hard enough, she can still feel the remnants of their last hug lingering against every inch of her skin. She wants to memorize that feeling and create a blanket out of its threads to numb the ice cold shiver that’s been repeatedly running through her veins from the second Azzi had gotten on that plane. But even that might not be enough. Not when she’s learnt just how warm Azzi’s presence can be and how everything else pales in comparison. 

Paige lies to herself that it’s an accidental slip of her fingers, that she’d meant to press send not call, that she had every intention of hanging up the facetime on the first ring itself. 

But then Azzi picks up on the second one.

And really it would be rude to hang up. 

“Hey what’s up?” Azzi’s face fills the screen, tired eyes staring intently at Paige through the screen. 

“Oh um-” Paige fumbles for words, awkwardly shuffling her feet that are dangling off the side of her bed, “I just wanted to ask how your flight was?”

Azzi raises an eyebrow, “you couldn’t have texted me that?”

“Too tired to text,” Paige lies and the words i just wanted to hear your voice stay stuck, burning hot, in her throat, “gotta save these money-making fingers for more important things.”

“Yeah I’m hanging up-”

“NO-” it comes out far more forceful than it should and if possible, Azzi’s eyebrow shoots up even farther, as Paige clears her throat, “I mean- uh- you didn’t tell me how your flight was.”

Paige is too busy cringing at herself to notice the light blush that tinges Azzi’s cheeks. She’s too busy wondering why this girl brings out this nervous bumbling side of hers to notice the fond smile that almost cracks through Azzi’s lips. 

“The flight was okay. I actually got to sleep this time,” Azzi says pointedly and Paige laughs. 

“So what you’re saying is it was boring as hell.”

“I’m saying it was really peaceful not having someone yapping in my ear while I was trying to sleep.”

“So you didn’t miss me?” Paige presses, trying to keep her voice teasing despite how desperately she wants the admission. 

Azzi hesitates, as if she’s debating with herself, before, “I didn’t say that.”

It’s a little ridiculous how large Paige’s grin is but it’s okay, because Azzi’s smiling back, soft and shy. They’d look foolish to anyone else, the way they’re so intently gazing at each other through a screen as if there’s no barrier between them at all. 

“It’s gonna be weird going to the gym without you tomorrow morning,” Paige confesses after a second, moving to lay down on her stomach. 

“I bet. You’re gonna get absolutely nothing done without me,” Azzi teases dramatically before her eyes soften, “it’s weird that I’m not gonna see you at all tomorrow.”

There’s something gut-wrenching about that admission and yet, there’s something in it that heals a part of Paige’s heart that she hadn’t even known needed to be fixed. It means something to her that Azzi must feel it too. Because if she’s honest with herself, Paige had been just a little afraid that maybe the connection was just in her head, that maybe Azzi was simply tolerating her presence out of kindness. 

“You should just move to Minnesota,” Paige replies finally, “much nicer than Virgina or whatever.”

“Have you ever even been to Virginia?” Azzi asks, eyebrows raised as she flips herself to lie on her back, holding her phone above her in a way that lets Paige see entirely too much and yet not nearly enough. 

“No but it sounds boring as fuck.”

“Not with me,” Azzi says, biting her bottom lip sheepishly as soon as the words are out. 

Paige smirks, suddenly filled with a brand new confidence, “yeah? You’d make Virgina interesting for me Fudd? What would we do?”

Azzi licks her lips and Paige feels her mouth go dry. 

“We’d be together,” the younger girl says finally, averting her gaze as the depth of her words begin to make Paige feel like she’s being flooded by an ocean of emotions she’s not quite ready to feel yet, “anything can be interesting if we’re together.”

It would be so easy to come up with a sarcastic quip or tease Azzi for being a sap and yet there’s a certain sincerity in this moment that feels too fragile for Paige to feign nonchalance. 

“Is Virginia nice in the winter?” she asks finally, hands fidgeting with the hair ties secured around her wrist, “Minny’s a little too cold sometimes.”

Azzi’s eyes shine and Paige wants to try and read them, find the little clues hidden in her irises and solve the mystery lingering behind the crimson flush of her cheeks. But the truth is that Paige is a little scared of what she’d find, a little scared that discovering Azzi might mean discovering herself too. 

“You should come find out some time,” the brunette says, casual tone filled with intricacies of something far deeper. It’s the closest they’ve gotten to saying anything of actual substance and they tip-toe around saying what they both want, daring the other to ask first. 

“I dunno,” Paige says, determined to win the game, “I’m not in the habit of showing up to places without a proper invite.”

Azzi scoffs, “a proper invite? Are you expecting someone to send you a carrier pigeon with a gold letter addressed to her royal highness or something?”

“That would be nice,” Paige surmises and Azzi rolls her eyes.

“Does your back ever hurt from carrying that ego?”

“Only hurts from carrying my team.”

“Oh my god you’re so full of it.”

“Full of talent? Yessirrrr.”

Azzi huffs, “Paige.”

“Azzi,” Paige hums. 

“Do you wanna come visit me in Virginia during winter break?” Azzi says finally, a small smile playing on her lips like she’s okay with losing this game as long as it’s to Paige. 

“If I must,” Paige says dramatically, shrugging her shoulders and everything as Azzi lets out an offended squeak. But inside, her heart flutters at the offer, at the idea of seeing Azzi again, even if it feels like a lifetime away. Because as long as it’s Azzi on the other side, Paige and her impatient self can wait however long it takes. 

“Actually you know what nevermind, you don’t gotta come,” Azzi concedes bitterly,  scrunching her face (and Paige would never tell her this but she thinks Azzi looks just a little too cute when she’s mad and so maybe she riles her up on purpose)

“No takesies backsies Az,” Paige sing-songs before her lips uptick from a smirk into something more sincere, “hey Az,” she whispers, giggling to herself when Azzi pretends to ignore her, “I’d really like to come see you in Virginia during winter break.”

And as a brilliant grin dazzles across Azzi’s face, Paige realizes that her favorite thing about Azzi’s smile isn’t when her dimples show or when her eyes twinkle, it’s when it’s there because of Paige, when it’s there just for Paige. 

“Good,” Azzi whispers as they fall into a comfortable silence. 

There’s this serene sense of calm that laces itself around Paige’s nerves. Her normally fidgeting body is content to be perfectly still, an anomaly to her usual demeanor. The truth is that Paige isn’t the kind of person who’s okay with just existing; she likes to spend every second in motion, living out the high. There’s a part of her that’s scared of missing moments, scared that the people around her will leave her behind if she doesn’t chase them. But it’s different with Azzi. The younger girl makes Paige feel like it’s okay if she takes a moment to just breathe. Because Azzi will wait. Because Azzi won’t leave Paige behind. 

“Wait,” it’s a little while before Azzi pipes up, shaking Paige out of her thoughts, “what time is it?”

Paige’s eyes flicker to the time on her phone, confused by the line of questioning, “it’s almost 9 why?”

“Don’t you have a team party or something to go to tonight?” Azzi asks, face scrunching, “I swear you told me you had something tonight.”

“Oh-yeah- Amaya’s back to school thing,” Paige sheepishly scratches her neck, suddenly feeling itchy in her flannel shirt. She’d forgotten she was wearing that instead of her daily clothes. Hell, she’d forgotten she was supposed to be going somewhere in the first place, too occupied with other thoughts. 

“Bro get up,” Azzi orders, “you’re already late.”

“Nah it’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna go,” Paige says and she thinks she should probably feel a little more guilty about it. 

“What do you mean you’re not gonna go?” Azzi asks in disbelief, “dude you’re the star of the team. You have to go.”

“Amaya will understand besides-” Paige drags in a deep breath, feeling vulnerable as the next words fall out in a quiet whisper, “I don’t wanna hang up yet.”

“Paige c’mon we can talk tomorrow,” Azzi tries to protest but it’s half-hearted at best.

“I wanna talk right now,” Paige argues, “you don’t wanna talk to me?”

For a second Paige thinks Azzi might just say no, might just chip away a little bit of heart with a well-intentioned rejection, but she doesn’t, “always wanna talk to you P.”

“Then don’t hang up. Talk to me.”

And Azzi does. All night. 

Two weeks laters there’s a letter, in an envelope with a picture of a carrier pigeon, that arrives in the Bueckers’ mail box. 

To her royal highness, 

Unfortunately I couldn’t find an actual carrier pigeon (I swear I tried) so this envelope and the mailman will have to do. 

~ You are formally invited this winter break to the Fudd family residence in Virginia. ~

(And you better show up Bueckers)

Yours, 

Azzi

February 2033

“I can’t believe you’re leaving me,” Ice whines petulantly as she makes herself comfortable on the couch across from where Paige is getting her makeup done, “this is parental neglect.”

Paige laughs, eyes closed, her makeup artist does her mascara, “you’ll survive.”

“You don’t know that” Ice argues, plucking a grape from the fruit basket before segueing into a rant about how boring Arlington, Texas is. 

Paige is grateful for the distraction her younger friend is providing. Her nerves had been on edge since the moment she’d woken up this morning, anxious to get the impending farewell press conference over with. She’d already started accepting that the Wings weren’t the right place for her but that feeling had only been heightened by her trip to the Valkyries. And ever since she’s come back, Paige feels a little bit like she’s sleepwalking through her final moments in Dallas. If she’s honest, she’s probably rushing things a little bit. There’s still plenty of time before she really has to move to Oakland but it had been her choice to move there as soon as possible. Paige had always been good at conjuring excuses and she had plenty as to why she needed to be in California so soon. But at the end of the day it isn’t about training or team bonding or any of the other hundred justifications she’s given anyone who’s asked. It’s about a little girl who’s eyes had been brimming with tears when saying goodbye, a little girl who had made Paige pinky swear that she’d be back as soon as possible. 

Really, Paige thinks she should be applauded for her restraint, because truth be told, the second Stephie’s lower lip had trembled, Paige had been prepared to ask Ice to just ship her stuff to Oakland so that she’d never have to let go of the little girl’s hand. 

And here’s the thing, Paige is willing to admit she wants to go back to the Bay Area for Stephie. It’s that pesky little part of her that’s desperate to go back for Stephie’s mother, to go back for one more hesitant yet lingering touch, that she won’t ever share with anyone else. 

“I never thought I’d live to see you and Azzi willingly playing together again,” Ice says as soon as Paige’s makeup artist leaves the room, “KK and I didn’t even try betting on it, we were that sure it wouldn’t happen. Shit I should have. I totally would have won.”

“Don’t y’all get tired of betting on my life?” Paige asks, rolling her eyes, trying to ignore the first part of what Ice said. 

“Betting on your life has made me hundreds of dollars bro,” Ice says, before a more earnest  look crosses her face, “but genuinely P, are you sure about this? There’s a lot of history there.”

Paige sighs, “it’s not about our history. It’s a basketball decision. And we’re both mature adults who know that. I’m just tryna win. Nothing else.”

“It’s never nothing when it comes to you two.”

“It is this time,” Paige argues adamantly and Ice raises her hands in surrender. 

“I just don’t want another set of teammates to have to deal with y’alls bullshit,” the younger girl teases, but it’s laced with a hint of seriousness that sends a flare of guilt shooting through Paige’s body. 

“Ice-” she begins.

But Ice is quick to change to a lighter subject, “can’t believe Jana’s the one that gets mom and dad back together. I always knew she was the favorite.”

“We didn’t have favorites,” Paige plays along, thankful for Ice and her ability to always keep the tension to a bare minimum. 

“Oh don’t lie. We all know you did,” Ice scoffs and then lets out a chuckle, “and now Azzi’s actually a mom. That’s kinda insane. And you met the kid right?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did,” Paige says and she can’t help the way her entire face breaks into a gleaming smile as her thoughts turn into memories of Stephie. She doesn’t even realize she’s gotten lost in a different world until Ice coughs, an amused grin playing on her lips. 

“You’re so royally fucked Paige,” Ice shakes her head, “the only person I’ve seen you smile that big for before is Azzi.”

“She’s a cute, smart, adorable kid, that’s why I’m smiling,” Paige tries to defend herself. 

“She’s Azzi’s cute, smart, adorable kid,” Ice counters. 

“That has nothing to do with it,” Paige protests again but it rings hollow to her own ears.

“Oh my god I needa call KK and get this bet started. It’s only a matter of time for real,” Ice says, more to herself than to Paige, as she whips out her phone, probably texting KK. 

“A matter of time till what?”

“You’ll find out Paigey,” Ice says gravely with a mocking smile, patting Paige’s head, “all in due time.”

***

The Dallas Wings media room is buzzing, reporters desperate to ask Paige questions and the blonde tries to maintain a smile despite the fact that her heart is lurching in her throat right now. Her opening speech had been short and sweet, parroting basically the same thing that had gone out on her social media the night before; she’d been desperate to just get it out. Generally, Paige is pretty good with the media, having been immersed in the spotlight since basically forever. The attention and how to maneuver it has always come naturally to her so she’s not sure why she feels so unnerved by it all today.  From the back of the media room, Ice sends her a thumbs up and a reassuring grin and Paige lets out a breath, glad to have at least that comforting presence with her. 

“Aidrian Ginsburger with Bleacher Report, Paige, you’ve obviously spent all of your career so far with the Wings, can you tell us a little bit about the impact this organization has had on you?”

Paige smiles at the question, letting her brain skim through pages and pages of fond memories she has of time spent with this team. It might be time to move on but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have plenty of cherished moments. 

“Yeah um- this place has really shaped who I am as a person. Since day one, the front office, obviously it’s a different one to the one I came in with, they did a lot to make sure that I was comfortable. My teammates through the years have been incredible and I wouldn’t be the player I am today without them. And of course the fans you know, they always showed out for the team, for me. Always supported me in anyways and I hope that I was able to give back the love to them that they always gave to me,” she says, suddenly nostalgic for the team that had started it all. 

The next questions are similar in nature and Paige’s answer varies only in words but not substance. She feels herself start to settle into it, now fielding the expected questions about the Wings and Valkyries with an air of confidence. There are a couple questions about Azzi that make her heart thump, but that was to be expected. It’s a pretty brilliant story in the making, two MVPs who used to play on the same college team coming together. Talia had warned Paige in advance that there was no avoiding it. But for the most part the questions have an easy answer about how Azzi’s a brilliant player and she’s excited to play with her old friend again. That is until a familiar hand shoots up and all the tension that had previously dissipated, comes roaring back with a vengeance. 

“Olivia Reynolds with the Dallas Morning News, Paige, as others have said today, you and Azzi Fudd played together at UConn and you were best friends.” Olivia’s eyes glint viciously, “I mean it’s pretty well documented how hard you tried to recruit her to UConn. But despite being best friends, the two of you have been never seen hanging out, outside of games and formal events, unlike your other teammates that is-”

“Is there a point to this?” Paige asks, hands fisting in her lap as she tries to keep herself calm. 

Olivia smiles, sugary sweet, “I was just wondering if maybe there was some tension and how that would affect your on-court chemistry at the Valkyries?”

“There’s no tension,” Paige lies through gritted teeth, “we didn’t hang out because we live far apart. There isn’t much else to it. And even if there was, Azzi and I are professionals. We wouldn’t let anything off the court affect our goal to win.”

“You lived far apart before UConn too, but that didn’t seem to stop you guys. What changed?” Olivia presses.

“Time did. Our lives did. There’s nothing sensational here. It’s just a case of two people drifting apart,” Paige says and the fabrication feels heavy on her tongue. If only it really had been that simple. 

“But clearly not that much,” Olivia says, and Paige glances at the moderator, desperate for an intervention, “there were plenty of fan pictures of the two of you out getting ice cream with Azzi’s daughter. It seems like you’re already fitting into that Bay Area life-”

“I’m not hearing a question at the end of your sentence,” Paige hisses and she can practically already hear the scolding she’s going to get from Talia once her agent gets wind of how this press conference had gone. The entire media cohort is watching the exchange with wide eyes, no doubt questioning whether they were embarrassed or impressed by their colleague. Ice is mouthing something to Paige, probably something along the lines of please keep your shit together, but Paige is steaming. Really, she should have expected this. 

“Well if you’d let me finish,” Olivia snarls, the façade of innocence dropping, “even if the two of you have drifted, as you put it, clearly there’s still a relationship there. How big of a role did Azzi Fudd play in your choice to move to the Valkyries?”

Paige sucks in a deep breath, nails digging into her palm at the question, “Azzi is the best shooting guard in the country. That was her role in my decision to move to the Valkyries. I don’t know what else you’re trying to imply, but I want to play with her because we play well together. That’s it,” she stands up and there’s pin drop silence, “thank you all for coming but we’re done with this press conference. 

***

Paige is seething as she exits the media room, Ice hot on her heels trying to calm her down. The sane part of her knows she should head back to the makeup room or even to her car, instead she finds her feet carrying her in the direction of where she knows Olivia Reynolds will be, reviewing her press conference notes by the coffee machine like she always is. 

“What the actual fuck was that?” Paige spits as she comes to a halt in front of the reporter. 

“I know you think playing basketball is the only job in the world Paige, but that was a reporter doing her job,” Olivia says, her calm and composed voice only furthering Paige’s irritation. 

“Bull-fucking-shit.” Paige sneers, “that wasn’t a reporter out there, that was my ex-wife grilling me like we were back in fucking divorce court.”

Olivia cocks her head, “oh so you do remember who I am to you then?”

“Oliv-”

“Because if you did remember, I’d like to think you’d have the courtesy to at least personally tell me that you were moving to your,” she drops her voice, “ex-girlfriend’s team instead of letting me find out with the rest of the world. You don’t think you owed me that?”

“That’s what this is about?” Paige sighs, “Olivia we’ve been divorced for almost three years now, I don’t owe you-”

“You didn’t owe Azzi anything either,” Olivia whisper-yells, the calm in her voice replaced by the same anger that had tainted the last year of their marriage, “but when we first started dating, you kept us a secret for months. You wouldn’t even tell your fucking teammates cause you were so scared she’d find out,” her eyes drift towards Ice who looks like she wishes she’d made a different decision rather than following Paige out here, “you said she deserved to hear it from you but apparently I don’t-’

“I didn’t mean it like that Olivia. Look, I meant what I said up there. There’s nothing between- ”

“Spare me,” Olivia says, as she stuffs her notepad into her bag, “you can lie to all those other reporters out there about how all of this is a basketball decision. You can even lie to yourself if you want. But you can’t lie to me, not when I spent four years fighting to keep our relationship from getting crushed under whatever it is that Azzi is to you.”

***

It doesn’t matter how far Paige burrows her head into her pillows, she can’t seem to stop herself from hearing Olivia’s words reverberating through her ears. The two of them had done well at co-existing in their social circles after the divorce had been finalized. While no one could quite call them friends, they’d done a good job at being friendly, being able to converse and share an occasional drink when in their combined friend group. And if Paige is honest, she knows she’s fucked up, knows she probably did owe Olivia a call. But calling Olivia would have meant calling someone who would inevitably make Paige face the truth, just like she had today. The truth that, even with the deal Talia had concocted with the Liberty hanging in the background like a dark presence, the move to the Valkyries was about a lot more than just basketball for Paige. 

She’s so entrenched in her thought that she doesn’t bother checking who it is when the facetime rings, irritation seeping into her voice as she answers it, face still buried in her pillows, “WHAT?”

“Miss Buecks?” a tiny voice comes through the phone and for a second, Paige thinks she must be dreaming, until she finally lifts her head to look at her phone, and Stephie’s small face lights up the whole screen. And it’s like she can feel little hands on her shoulders, slowly unknotting her tightened muscles. 

“Stephie,” she breathes out, a sudden sense of serene calm washing over her previously tense body. 

“Hi Miss Buecks,” Stephie says happily before she squints at the screen, “you sleep weird.”

Paige laughs, “and why’s that?”

“You’re not wearing pajamas and it’s only seven. ‘Dults don’t sleep at seven,” Stephie says matter-of-factly. 

“It’s actually nine here,” Paige says, a little surprised by the time; she hadn’t realized she'd been moping in her bed for that long. Ice had forced her to get lunch together, not wanting to leave Paige alone after the encounter with Olivia. Once she’d finally gotten back to her apartment, Paige had flopped on her bed, taking out her frustrations on her poor pillow. 

“That’s not poss-ble,” Stephie scrunches her face, “Mama’s phone says it’s seven.”

“It’s seven in California, it’s nine in Texas,” Paige tries to explain though by the way Stephie’s looking at her, she thinks she’s probably just confusing the girl more, “how’d you figure out how to call me babe?”

Stephie gives her an exasperated look, “Miss Buecks I’m five. I know how to use facetime.”

“And does your Mama know you're facetiming me?” Paige asks, eyebrows raised.

“She’s in the shower,” Stephie whispers, grinning sheepishly. 

As if on cue, Azzi appears on the corner of the screen and Paige feels her mouth run dry. The darker skinned woman is clad in a light pink fluffy bathrobe that ends right above her knees, giving Paige the perfect view of her long, toned legs that seem to shimmer despite the shitty quality of the facetime. Rivulets of water cling to her neck, delicately cascading down the valley of her breasts before disappearing from sight. And Paige must be dehydrated because never has she wanted to taste a drop of liquid more than she does right now. 

“Stephie,” Azzi groans, as she walks towards the phone and Paige gulps, heart beating faster with every step the other woman takes, everything about her becoming clearer and clearer, “what did I say about using my phone.”

“Only in em-a-gencies,” Stephie recites, “but Mama I had an em-a-gency.”

Azzi tilts her head, eyebrows raised as she gives her daughter a knowing look, “and what was your emergency?”

“I really, really, really, this much” Stephie stretches out her hands as far as they’ll go,  really, really, really, miss Miss Buecks.”

Paige feels her heart flutter. Stephie’s words feel like a hand carefully pulling her out from under the pile of stress she’d been buried under the whole day. It’s like the little girl is pushing away the rubble pressing against her lungs, turning the rocks into dust with a light touch and Paige feels like she can finally breathe. 

“Sounds like a pretty big emergency to me,” she says, relishing the way Stephie’s face lights up at the admission, “cause I really, really, really miss you too Steph.”

“See Mama,” Stephie says, placing the phone against a wall so can place her hands on her hips and look up at Azzi with a pleased smirk. 

Azzi rolls her eyes before glaring at Paige, “you’re a bad influence on her.”

“I’m the best influence on her,” Paige argues, sending Stephie a conspiratorial wink, “just you wait Az, I’mma teach her all the good things.”

Something unreadable flashes across Azzi’s face before she’s back to looking at Paige with an unimpressed arched eyebrow, “I am not letting you corrupt my daughter Paige Bueckers.”

“We’ll see,” Paige says slowly and Azzi shakes her head before turning to Stephie. 

“Alright Stephie bean time to go brush your teeth. It’s almost bedtime babes,” she says with a stern look 

“But Mama-”

“No arguing, you have school tomorrow missy,” Azzi reminds the little girl and Paige can’t help but marvel at the mother that Azzi’s become. And it makes her heart ache for the fantasies she’d dreamed of when she was in her early twenties. She’d always known Azzi would be a great mother; Paige had just naively thought she’d be there alongside her too. 

“Can Miss Buecks stay on the phone till I fall asleep?” Stephie asks, peering up at Azzi with big doe eyes, “please Mama pleeeease.”

“I’m sure Miss Buecks has other things-”

“I don’t,” Paige cuts in far too enthusiastically, clearing her throat to get back some semblance of restraint as both mother and daughter turn to look at each other, “I don’t have anything to do tonight so I can stay till you fall asleep Stephie.”

“YAYY,” Stephie cheers enthusiastically while Azzi studies her with a weary look, “I’m gonna go brush my teeth and then you can read me, my story Mama.”

With that, the little girl runs in the direction of what Paige can only assume is the bathroom, skipping with childlike joy as she sing-songs about something Paige can’t quite make out. 

“You know you don’t have to say yes to everything she asks right?” Azzi says slowly as she grabs her phone and sits on the couch. 

Paige shrugs, “I have time to stay.”

“Do you?” Azzi asks skeptically, “because from what I heard the Wings are having a little farewell party tonight, for you.”

Paige narrows her eyes, “and how exactly did you hear that?”

“I have connections.”

“You talked to Ice.”

“I talked to Ice,” Azzi concedes, “and I’m pretty sure you’re already an hour or so late for it.”

“Exactly. I’m already an hour late so why bother,” Paige says, sitting up so she can rest head against her headboard, “why were you talking to Ice?”

“I can’t talk to my friend?” Azzi asks slowly. 

“Of course you can but why specifically today?” Paige presses 

Azzi bites her lip, “I um- I watched your press conference today. You uh-” she averts her gaze, “you seemed really stressed at the end and I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

A soft grin upturns Paige’s lips before she can stop it, “were you worried for me Fudd?”

“That’s not-” Azzi groans, “shut up.”

Paige smirks, “you were worried for me.”

“I was concerned for my future teammate," Azzi huffs, “besides,” her face hardens, “she was way out of line.”

Paige sighs at the implied mention of Olivia, “maybe but maybe I deserved it.”

“No you didn’t,” Azzi protests and that oh so familiar protective tone in her voice carves itself into every crevice of Paige’s heart, “no one deserves to be put on the spot like that. She was being unethical trying to dig into your personal life like that.”

“This is nice,” Paige says softly, unable to help herself. 

“What is?” 

“Seeing you get all defensive over me. It's nice to see you still care. I didn’t know if you still did.”

Azzi’s quiet for a second, gnawing at her bottom lip as she looks at Paige, “I’ve always cared Paige. And-” she hesitates as the tightrope beneath them wavers, “I’m always gonna care.”

There’s years worth of unsaid words lingering in the silence between them as they breach some unspoken rule they’d both inadvertently agreed to. And they both know that they shouldn’t be saying things like this to each other, that they’re teetering on the edge of falling into an abyss that has nothing but destruction at the bottom. But Azzi’s words feel like sunshine, like heat waves across her skin and Paige is so tired of feeling cold. 

Before either of them can say another word, Stephie comes back into the room, crawling into Azzi’s lap.

“I’m back,” she beams, completely unaware of the way the two adults are scrambling to act normal around her. 

“Here baby,” Azzi hands the phone to Stephie, “take Miss Buecks to your room. Mama’s gonna go change and then she’ll come read to you okay?”

“‘Kay Mama,” Stephie complies, pressing a soft kiss to Azzi’s cheek before running towards her room. For a second Paige’s screen is blurred in motion until Stephie fixes her again and Paige catches a glimpse of Stephie’s room, specifically the walls that are painted the perfect shade of Valkyrie purple. 

“I love your walls Stephie,” she compliments.

“They’re pu-ple,” Stephie exclaims, “that’s my favorite color.”

“First the ice-cream, now the color, you’re stealing all of my favorites kid,” Paige teases but she’s secretly pleased by this revelation. It’s dangerous how fast Stephie’s starting to whittle down Paige’s walls and build herself a permanent shelf in Paige’s cabinet of my people. 

“Can I tell you a secret Miss Buecks,” Stephie whispers, bringing her lips closer to the phone. 

Paige smiles, “of course you can.”

“I think Mama misses you too,” Stephie says softly and Paige feels her heart catch in her throat, “I heard her tell Nanna on the phone.”

“Can I tell you a secret Stephie?” Paige lowers her voice, leaning into her phone. 

“‘Course you can Miss Buecks.”

Paige swallows as the admission falls from her lips, “I really miss your Mama too.”

I miss her always and I think I’ll miss her forever. 

“What are you the two of you whispering about,” Azzi’s voice cuts in as she tucks herself next to Stephie, a children’s book in her hand. 

“Nothing Mama,” Stephie says immediately, winking at Paige through the phone. 

“Yeah,” Paige echoes, ignoring her erratic heartbeat, “nothing Azzi.”

Azzi looks between the both of them, clearly aware she’s being left out of something, but doesn’t push further. Instead she flips open the book, pulls Stephie closer into her arms and starts reading. If anyone were to ask Paige later, she wouldn’t have the faintest idea about a single word in that damn book. Because as Azzi’s soothing voice begins to lull Stephie to sleep, and the younger girl, despite her yawns, holds the phone up so the blonde can be included in every second of it, Paige feels herself being pulled into a dream she has no right to dream. She dreams of being in Stephie’s purple bedroom. She dreams of her and Azzi lying against Stephie’s lilac bedspread, their hands entwined in the middle over Stephie’s little body. She dreams of a forever that she’d long forsaken.

[slaybestieslay946]

luke castellan x fem!reader in the future as parents 🥺

omg i love this idea sm!

word count: 700

pairing: Luke Castellan x reader

warnings: None!

MASTERLIST

-Perfect

Saturday mornings in the Castellan household were hectic to say the least. But that wasn’t surprising, considering the fact you had a house of two kids, a dog, and an adorably idiotic husband. 

And while you usually loved it, sometimes it could be pretty exhausting.

“Babe?” You called out, striding through the house, a pram in one hand and a packed lunch in the other. 

“Yeah, in here honey!” Luke replied from the living room, laughing slightly at something. 

You walked in to see him sat on the couch, bouncing your baby daughter on his knee while the girl laughed with glee. 

Normally, you’d sit down beside him to coo at your daughter and all her little facial expressions. But this morning you had things to attend to, such as laundry, taking your son to soccer practice, grocery shopping. You didn’t have time for distractions. 

“Did you wake up James this morning?” 

“I thought you were doing it, and I was handling Violet?” He replied, perplexed. 

“No,” You sighed, exasperated. “That was last week. You’re on wake up duty, remember?” 

It was then that it appeared to click in his head, and he quickly returned the girl back to her cot, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before rushing out the room, calling out frantic apologies to you on the way. 

You’d been late to James’ soccer practice because of it, and he’s missed out on collecting his player of the match award. He’d been understandably upset, and it had caused some tension in the house for the past week. 

You weren’t angry with Luke per se. Irritated was probably more accurate. He’d apologised profusely to both you and James, and the boy had gotten over it when his dad took him out for pancakes the next day. 

As for you, he hadn’t yet delivered his grand gesture to atone, so you were still waiting on that. One thing you did love about your husband, is that he always made it up to you, no matter what mistake he made. 

And make it up, he did. 

The next Saturday you woke up without the usual ring of your alarm, and instead you found yourself waking naturally out of a lazy dream. The morning sun cast its rays over your face, warming you slightly as you smiled, rolling over to face your husband. Except he wasn’t there. 

Immediately you were confused, sitting up in bed and glancing at the clock. It was 10 o’clock. You were so late. 

You cursed quietly, practically leaping out of bed and pulling on the nearest pair of trousers you could find. 

You were in such a frantic state that you didn’t even notice Luke entering the room until he called out to you. 

“Honey, please, get back into bed.” 

“What! We’re late! Oh god, James is gonna be so upset, he’s missed all of soccer!” You exclaimed, turning to face him, only to see him holding a tray full of food. 

“What’s that?” 

“Breakfast. Please, just get back in bed, I’ll explain.” He said, a sheepish smile on his face as he herded you back into bed. 

You followed, willing to hear him out, especially when he was offering you pastries and coffee. 

“Is everything-?” 

“It’s all sorted,” He said, cutting you off, “I took James to soccer, and then he’s going to Leon’s for a playdate. I’m really sorry for last week, you let me get away with so much, and you work so hard, so I thought I’d let you have a lie in, and bring you breakfast.” 

You were speechless, staring directly into his chocolate brown eyes. 

“Are you happy? Sorry for not telling you, I wanted it to be a nice surprise.” 

Then you snapped out of your daze, grabbing his face and kissing him hard, before pulling back to giggle at his blushing face. Sometimes he was still like the awkward teen you had met all those years ago. 

“It was a great surprise. I really appreciate it.” 

You grabbed a croissant from the tray, and quickly began to sate you hunger, grinning the whole time as you tried to figure how you managed to get so lucky to call this man your husband, the father of your children. 

It really was perfect. 

[tradgedyinwaves]

Touch - Ch. 5

Poly!141 x chunky!reader tw: little stalkerish at the end

Sunday Morning. 

You woke the next day to a bouquet of white lilies of the valley and yellow roses from Price for his “ungentlemanly actions” the night before and you found yourself immediately forgiving him. It was nice to know that despite what Kit had said, you were desired by someone. And how could you hold that against John? 

🪻: I suppose I forgive you. 🥃: How magnanimous of you, little bird. Does this mean I can expect a second date? 🪻: I guess. :P 

Your phone was now constantly blowing up with messages from Johnny and Price. And then Kyle was added, asking for your number from Price who’d asked you and you’d given your permission. You didn’t know what was going on. This time last year, you couldn’t get your husband to even look at you and now three very, very attractive British S.A.S members were clambering over each other for your attention. You didn’t know what they saw in you, but you weren’t going to complain. Eventually, the four of you ended up in a group chat when both Johnny and Kyle decided they wanted to take you out too. 

🪻: Alright. Do you guys even know the others have asked me out? Cause while I’m not complaining, ya’ll are friends.  🧼: Aw Petal. Just a wee competition between mates. 🥃: They’re just worried that I snagged you first, little bird.  👀: Excuse you. We’re giving her options for when she decides she doesn’t want you, old man.  🥃: Kyle, I am barely 10 years older than you. That doesn’t make me elderly. 🪻: -grabs popcorn- This is entertaining. I’ve never had men fight over me before. 🧼: Just you wait, they get worse than this.

And it did.

On Monday, Kyle showed up at your job and insisted on taking you out for lunch, his treat of course.

On Tuesday, Johnny brought flowers to you AND your boss who immediately told you that he was the one to pick. 

On Wednesday, Price picked you up from work and took you to a little bookstore, buying anything you even glanced at.

On Thursday, no one showed up to dote on you and despite numerous messages, no one replied to you.

On Friday, you received a single message from each of them.

🥃: Being deployed. Be safe, little bird. We’ll be thinking of you.  🧼: Heading out for a mission, petal. We’ll miss you. 👀: Will be gone for a bit, dove. Don’t miss us too much. 

On Saturday, you tried to find something to do all day besides checking your phone every five minutes. 

On Sunday, you visited Magda.

When you finally received a text from Price two weeks later, telling you they were home safe and inviting you over, you felt a weight lift from your shoulders. You’d missed them terribly and were eager to see each of them. So after work on Friday, you rushed home, changed into some leggings and an oversized sweater and headed to the address you’d been sent. 

Pressing the buzzer, they let you in and when the door to their flat opened, Price was standing there with a warm smile. Your arms wrapped around his waist immediately, feeling his thick arms coming to envelop you while he kicked the door closed. 

“Aye, lass. He the only one that gets a hug?” Johnny asked as he rose from the couch, opening his arms with a laugh. “Johnny!” You instantly released Price and launched yourself into Johnny’s arms, hugging him just as tightly. He smelled fresh, like he’d just gotten out of the shower and you breathed in the clean scent of him. 

You felt Kyle wrap his arms around both you and Johnny, pressing against your back and sandwiching you between the two. If you thought it was weird that the three guys you were dating lived together, you didn’t say anything.

A few minutes later, you were tucked into the corner of the couch with a steaming cup of tea while you watched Johnny and Price interacting in the kitchen. It wasn’t lost on you how Price’s hand rested on the small of Johnny’s back or the way Johnny’s eyes softened when he looked at Price. You thought to ask Kyle who was taking up the other corner of the couch, but then you caught him gazing over at the other two wistfully and you felt a little like a fourth wheel. 

A door slid shut somewhere down the hall and it startled you before your gaze slid to Kyle with a raised brow. “I assume that’s Simon?” you asked, nodding your head to gesture down the hall. “Yeah, he’s not much of a people person, but he’ll warm up to you the more you’re around,” Johnny replied instead, making you look at him where he came to sit between you and Kyle. “You make it sound like I’m going to be over here a lot,” you replied with a raise of your brow. 

“Well, we’d like ya to be,” Kyle answered this time, a warm smile on his pretty face. But it felt like there was something that wasn’t being said and it put you on edge. Price could feel your apprehension as he went to sit in his armchair, noticing it on the edges of your eyes and the way you straightened up in your seat. “You look like you’re about to spring out of your seat, birdie. What’s going through your head?” Price questioned, tilting his head slightly while his eyes studied you. 

You froze at his words. You didn’t think you’d been that obvious with your discomfort, but Price had a keen eye and didn’t miss much. “I feel like there’s something I’m missing here,” you theorized, staring into your cup of tea like it was the most interesting thing in the room. Price pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, standing from his chair to sit on the coffee table in front of you. Your eyes widened when your gaze lifted to meet his sparkling blue eyes, feeling as though he was about to tell you that they no longer felt the same and you needed to leave. 

“When you work as closely with a team as we do, things…develop,” Price watched you with trepidation while you nodded, urging him to continue. “The four of us, myself, Johnny, Kyle, and Simon, we’re a team in more ways than one,” Price paused, seeing if he needed to clarify any further. You stared at him for a moment, letting his words process in your head.

“So you’re all like together together?” You clarified, bringing your cup to your lips and sipping, using the moment to gather your thoughts. “Aye, petal, we are,” Johnny replied, reaching over to pat your calf. “So what am I doing here?” you asked, trying to figure out where you fit into this with their doting and dates. Kyle’s laugh was light and airy as he moved to sit next to Price on the coffee table. “We were hoping you’d join us, dove. Don’t worry about Si. He knows what’s going on,” Kyle explained, looking at you with those dark, hopeful eyes. 

Who were you to deny these men? They’d treated you better in the weeks you’d known them than anyone else ever had and there was no question about your safety with them. “I don’t know how to do this,” You stated, hand coming out to gesture between the four of you. “I barely know how to date one person, let alone three,” you continued, feeling the shame of your past settling into your chest. 

Johnny’s hand on your calf squeezed and he flashed you a lopsided smile. “We can figure it out, together, if you want?” He offered, hope filling those cerulean hues of his. You looked between each of them, quiet as your mind swirled with questions. The most prominent being the fourth man in the equation, Simon, but you couldn’t be assed to worry about him right now. If they say he knows and would warm up eventually, you believed them. 

“Okay,” you stated, a soft smile on your lips as the boys processed your single word response. The first to react was Johnny, leaping across the couch to smother you in a bear hug while he buried his face in your hair. Price, always the mother of the group, snatched your tea cup before Johnny crushed you, setting it off to the side before pulling Kyle into his side with a wide smile. 

When you left that night, you felt at ease and dare you say it, happy. You were blessed with three men who doted on you, cared for you, treated you as if you were the world to them. Humming a little tune, you entered your apartment and immediately noticed something was different. You checked every nook and cranny, double checking the locks on the windows and even checked the door handle for pick marks. Everything looked right and instead of calling one of the boys, you sighed and shook it off, telling yourself you were imagining it. 

“Si, you’re going to have to face her at some point. She’s going to be around a lot more now,” Johnny chided while the two laid in bed. “I know, Soap, but she’s not ready,” Simon countered, staring up at the ceiling with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Are you sure it’s not you who isn’t ready?” Johnny asked, propping himself up on his elbow and looking down at the behemoth of a man next to him. Simon just grunted and slipped from the bed just to shove the window open and light the cigarette. 

“What are you scared of?” Johnny asked as he joined Simon at the window, both of them looking down over the street below. “I just don’t want her to think I’m stalking her or something. It was over six months ago and I suddenly show up again? Not likely. I was lucky to even see her again.” Simon had never been an optimist. And that wasn’t likely to change any time soon, so Johnny let it lie as he rested his head against the man’s shoulder. 

On the roof across from your building, your shadow stood with his skull mask in place. Watching. Waiting.

Uh oh. Reader may be too happy. Hope nothing happens to her.

Thank you so much to everyone who is liking and reblogging this story! I appreciate every single one of you!

[strniohoeee]

Amorous

Pairing: Chris Sturniolo X Female Reader ⚠️SMUT⚠️

Synopsis: Chris and Y/N never have alone time, so they decided to go for night drive, and take a pit stop🤫

Warnings⚠️: this is smut based on my request I just got! It’s obvious there’s sex, but it’s nothing intense. It’s pretty short imagine too🫶🏽

Song for the imagine: Wus good/Curious-PARTYNEXTDOOR

⚠️This is a 18+ imagine so minors DO NOT INTERACT⚠️

Chris and I had been dating for about a year now, and we loved spending time together going on dates, shopping, watching movies together, laughing and overall just enjoying each other's company. However he did live with his brothers, so they would usually join us on certain things like movies and games.

Although Chris had the downstairs room it still made it insanely impossible for us to have true alone time. Matt and Nick always wanted to sleep in his room, or stay with us watching movies till 3am. We loved them dearly, but sometimes Chris and I really needed alone time, and by that I mean we really needed to have sex

The last time we actually had decent sex was a good two months ago, and it was decent because as soon as we finished Matt came barging in the room looking for something of his he left the night prior. So it 100% ruined any lasting mood we might’ve had.

The most we have been able to do in the past two months was over the clothes stuff, and 10 minute quickies in the shower, but we were yearning for some dirty intense love making.

Chris had asked me if I wanted to take a drive with him. Honestly I wanted to stay home, but I know what he wanted, and I knew Nick and Matt would be home soon, so I agreed.

It was 9pm when he decided to take us for a “drive”

“Where are we headed baby?” I asked him as I shuffled his music library

“I’m thinking that little secluded area up on that hill” he said looking over at me

“Ahhh yesss where everyone goes to fuck” I said laughing

He sucks his teeth and looks at me “babe”

“Sorry! I’m serious though. Are you taking me there to fuck?” I said wiggling my brows

“I mean…..we can’t get more than 10 minutes alone, and I really need to fuck the shit out of you” he said glancing over at me

“True. I’ve been needing this too” I said kissing his hand that I was holding

We had gotten up to the hillside, and surprisingly there were no cars, and it was pitch black. All we could see were the city lights overhead

Chris had put the car in park, and turned the outside lights off, so it was extra dark, but he turned the lights on, on the inside.

“You looks so good right now” I told him as the warm light reflected off his facial structure and his blue eyes

“Oh yeah?” He said in a smug way

“Let’s go to the back,” I said. We got out of the car and opened up the back doors, putting down the seats in the van.

We both hopped back into the car, and immediately Chris pulled me down into him to kiss him. As we were kissing Wus good by PARTYNEXTDOOR started playing

“Look at that! It’s a sign” he said with a goofy smile

“You’re so corny” I said before going back to kissing him, he started to kiss down to my jawline and neck peppering light kisses. We slowly started to remove our clothes

I started palming Chris’ dick, but he grabbed my hand and stopped me

“Although this feels so fucking good. I’m trying to cum from fucking you, so please no more with the hands” he said laughing

“Sorry baby I can’t help myself” I said kissing him again

“Want me to fuck you, or you wanna ride” he asked? Massaging my boob

“Can I ride” I asked moaning as he’s groping my breasts

“Fuck yeah” he said. I didn’t need much foreplay because I was so dick deprived just looking at Chris had me wet

I hovered over his cock, and he helped me align himself to my entrance, and slowly I started to sink down onto him. My mouth falling slack at the stretch

“Fuck Chris I forgot how big you are” I said as I bottomed out

“Don’t boost my ego baby” he said, grabbing my chin and pulling me in for a kiss. I began to bounce on his dick immediately moaning at how good this felt

“Chris you don’t know how badly I needed this” I said as I continued to bounce on his dick

“Fuck Y/N use me. Milk me of all my cum please baby” he said running his hands up my sides and gripping my breasts

“Oh fuck” I said throwing my head back

I started to clench down On Chris, and he let out a whine that sent shivers down my spine

“Whine like that again, and I swear I’ll fucking cum so hard” I said looking down at him. He had both his hands behind his head propping his head up a little bit.

“Fuck if it means I get to see your beautiful face as you cum all over me I’ll keep doing it” He said biting his lip

I moaned at this and started grinding against him. My clit hitting his pelvic bone in a delicious manner. I continued to clench down on him as I grinded against him. His dick pounding against my g spot

“Chris im gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, can I please cum” I asked grinding faster

“Yes baby cum, cum for me please cum all over my cock” he said in such a raspy voice, and with that I was cumming all over his cock. Shaking and falling limp down on him.

Chris grabbed my ass and pounded up into me chasing his release, and this made me moan from the over stimulation, and hearing Chris’ grunting in my ear

“I think I’m going to cum again” I said sobbing into his neck

With that Chris came in me whining and moaning and shaking, and seconds later I came on his dick for a second time a mixture of our cum running down his dick

“That was so well needed” he said kissing me as we came down from our highs

“Oh god yes. I don’t know how I lasted that long” I said slowly starting to sit up, so I could get off of him

“Me neither, I needed that badly” he said as I got off of him searching for something to clean us up with

“Oh Matt left napkins in the glovebox” he said, and I reached over grabbing napkins to clean ourselves off with

After cleaning ourselves off we got back into our clothes and fixed the back seats. Chris threw the napkins on the floor outside

“Chris don’t litter” I said getting back into the car

“Oh yeah let me carry around a cum covered tissue to properly dispose of it” he said sarcastically

“Oh shut the fuck up” I said smacking him on his arm

As we got situated and he turned the car lights back on he got a call from Nick

“Sup bro” he said as he put the car into reverse

“Where the fuck yall went we have a car video to film” Nick said

“Oh shit my bad I didn’t realize the time. Y/N and I went out to eat and then went to see a movie” he said lying straight out his ass

“Yeah well it’s 12pm get home so we can film” Matt said from a distance

“Alright we should be back in 20. Be ready to hop in so we can film” they replied with okay, and he hung up

“Chris they’re going to know we fucked” I said laughing

“No they will not! We cleaned everything up” he said grabbing my hand

“Yeah let’s hope” I said blushing

After 20 minutes we arrived at their house, and he reached out to his brothers saying he was ready to pick them up. They got to the car, and hopped in the back seat.

“Y/N I MISSED YOUU” Nick said all giddy

“I missed you too Nick” I said laughing at him

Matt got in the car, but squinted his eyes before saying anything

“It smells like sex in here” Matt said looking at both Chris and I

“What the fuck you saying kid” Chris said

“It smells like sweaty hot sex” he said laughing, and Chris reached back to smack his brother

“Shut the fuck up” Chris said

“Omg omg wait yall fucked in here” Nick said getting loud, I slightly nodded at him

“OH MY GOD YALL FUCKED IN HERE AND I JUST SAT IN HERE AND PUT MY SNACK DOWN IN THE AREA YALL FUCKED IN?? IM SICK” Nick said screaming and thrashing around

“Nick shut the fuck up and calm down” Chris said getting annoyed

“CALM DOWN I DONT WANT TO SIT WHERE YALL FUCKED” he said pretending to cry

“Grow up” Matt said laughing at him

After 10 more minutes of that. They decided to finally drive to a location and film their YouTube video. Nick is ever so often being reminded of what just went on an hour prior.

And all Chris can do is give Y/N small smiles and flirty smirks here and there.

The End

For the person who requested this I HOPE it was good😭😭 as of right now my requests are still open. I’m currently working on Matt imagine, and then I have to work on a friendship imagine again🤭🤭

-J💅🏽

[marvelous-slut]

Rekindle - Opie Winston x Reader

Y’all I’ve underestimated just how sexy Opie is. Like, stop for a minute and look at him. I’ve literally had this in my draft forever and I’m glad to finally get her out.

Warnings: MINORS, as always DNI! 18+ ONLY! Smut head folks.

_________

You turn the engine to your car off as you finally made it to the familiar garage. Teller Morrow. It had been at least 10 years since you’d gotten out of Charming and never looked back, even sitting in the garage brought back too many memories for your brain to count. Most were horrible memories, your father Otto being arrested right outside the club house/garage. Your mother coming in late into the night, drunken and loud. Knocking over things she didn’t need but wouldn’t throw away. If she didn’t come home, you knew she was right inside the club house sobbing for your father who was constantly in and out of prison. The more you thought about the horrible memories, the more pissed off you felt yourself becoming. You decided it was time to go in and face the members of SAMCRO, find out exactly what had happened to your mother. A part of you figured she’d gotten killed due to something with the club, or maybe one of her porn costars had beaten her to death. Whatever it was, you couldn’t allow yourself to feel one hundred percent sad about it. Your parents were never really parents, who could be when they were so invested in the club life?

You walk in to the club house, not much has changed since 10 years ago. The same smell of pussy and booze, the same mug shots hanging on the wall with the exception of a few who you assumed to be members. One struck you, taking it in as you looked at the familiar face. Harry Winston.

“Jesus Christ Ope.” You say softly, before you have any time to think about what he did or if he was still in, a voice brings you out of your thoughts.

“Well look at who’s here!” Piney, it was so good to see him. Even if he looked sick with the oxygen tubing sticking out of his nose. You walk over to him, opening your arms for his warm embrace. “How you doin’ kid?” He asks, smiling largely.

“I’m good Piney, how’d you end up with that shit hanging from your nose?” He chuckles deeply, letting out a cough once he’s done.

“Lung issues, too many Marlboros I guess.” You laugh and he pats you on the back, before you can ask any questions about Opie you get your answer. He stands outside the door of the chapel, leaning up against it and seeming like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Seeing you wasn’t something he was looking forward to like the rest of the club.

“Well, glad to see you made it out for someone’s funeral.” He speaks coldly before walking out of the club house completely. Piney can see the discomfort on your face and speaks up.

“Ignore him, he’s been a real prick since Donna died.” Donna, it had been two years since she passed. He was still mad about that? You sigh and shake your head. You didn’t attend Donnas funeral and maybe you should have, maybe you should have been there to support Opie. He’d called you after it happened, drunken and slurring almost every word that come out of his mouth. You felt it was disrespectful to Donna to come to her funeral and comfort her husband, who you dated for years and considered your first love. It didn’t feel right no matter what way you thought about it, so you didn’t come. That was the last time you’d heard from him until today.

“I guess death can do that to a person. I’ll see you later Piney, I have to go get started looking for a dress to bury mom in.” He hugs you once more, this time a little more tight than before.

“He still cares about you kid. He loved Donna, but he loved you too.” He whispers, making you go cold. You break the hug and smile at him softly, heading out the club house doors as fast as you could. Hoping Piney didn’t notice the grief written all over your face.

__________

You had been through many challenges before, but trying to find your mother an outfit for her funeral that wasn’t completely revealing may be something you weren’t able to do. She’d turned the house into an even bigger dump than it was before you left, ashtrays filled to the brim with butts, beer cans and bottles scattered everywhere. Clothes thrown to the side, on the tv, in the floor. It was a wreck. You prayed it wouldn’t be yours to deal with now. You move a pile of books on the bed to the side to lay out what clothing looked appropriate to bury someone in when a stack of photos falls out. You pick them up, looking at each one. A photo of you and Otto on his Harley, you were maybe 6 years old in the photo. It made you smile, even if there was a lot of shit memories connected to your father you did know he loved you. You knew it was shitty not to call or even visit him, if they’d even let you. You look to the next picture, feeling like someone had just hit you in the chest. A photo of you and Opie on your senior prom night.

“God, my hair. My face.” You say softly, laughing at how much different you looked. Your eyes roam over to Opie, he was much smaller than he is now. Hardly any hair on the poor boys face compared to now. You sigh, folding the picture and sticking it in your pocket. Maybe you’d get to show it to him, if he lets go of the issue of Donnas funeral before you leave. The knock at the door takes you away from reminiscing. You’re in shock at who stands behind the white, dirt covered door.

“I wanted to say I’m sorry for earlier. I guess I’m bad at letting shit go.” Opie says, he leans against the frame of the door, before you can suggest for him not to do it. “Can I come in?” You move out of the door way, noticing him looking around the disaster of a house.

“It’s a fuckin’ dump. Luann couldn’t keep a house up worth a shit apparently.” You say, he laughs a little bit. “There’s no way I’m staying here. Guess I’ll get a hotel till I go home.” You say, moving around some clutter, scared to sit on the couch even after it’s gone.

“If you need a place to crash, I’m sure the club wouldn’t mind if you stayed at the house. My house is pretty empty too, wife being dead and all.” You weren’t sure how to react to the last comment, so you didn’t acknowledge it.

“Thanks Ope. I found this going through moms stuff.” You hand him the photo, as soon as he looks at it he laughs. You feel your chest tighten when he does, even after all the years apart he still had an affect on you.

“Jesus, look how fuckin’ scrawny.” He says, you remember the first time he’d ever put his kutte on, how it was so baggy on him. He’d definitely grew into it over the years. “You were pretty, still are.” He says, you can’t help but smile at the comment.

“Don’t kiss my ass just cause you were being a shit head.” He grins, knowing you were half right. He felt awful for being so cold toward you, especially this being the chance to let you know that he’s never forgotten you. How you’d haunted him nearly everyday for the last 10 years.

“Listen, I gotta get going. Got some shit with the club that needs handled. If you need to crash at my place, you know where I am.”

“Thanks Ope. I really appreciate it. I’ll see you later?” He nods his head and closes the door behind him. You place your back to the door, hanging your head down. It shouldn’t be this way, the high school sweet heart still having some stupid affect on your mind years later. You look up, opening your eyes to a large rat sitting in front of you.

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You scream, grabbing the dress you’d found for your mother and slamming the door behind you.

__________

The porch light is barley shining when you step up to the door. You knock on the door, not having to wait long before it’s answered. Opie stands in the door way, only in a towel. Hair still wet from showering. You feel your eyes widen, looking him up and down. You knew it was obvious even if you had been praying it wasn’t.

“Sorry, didn’t think you’d stop by.” He says, moving out of the door way. You step in, the place was much different than your mothers. Clean, neat, no reason to be scared of being on the couch.

“So you just answer the door for anyone half naked?”

“Just the pretty ones.” You feel your face heat up at the comment. Embarrassed that you’re blushing like this. You place a hand on his thigh, rubbing it gently.

“Ope, I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” You say softly, he brings your head up to face him. Looking into his eyes makes your heart go faster than it had in years. He places his hand on the side of your cheek, caressing it gently.

“It’s okay.” Before you can respond, you feel yourself move closer, kissing him. He moves his hands to your hips as you stratal him, gripping them tightly. You run your fingers through his damp hair, the last time this had happened was when the two of you were 19 years old, what you’d thought would be the last time you ever got to be this close to him. You break the kiss and head down to the towel that covered him, uncovering his hardened cock. Turns out, everything about him had grown some in ten years. You lower your head down, running your tongue up his cock as he moans out. One thing you love about Opie, he never was afraid to be loud. He’d let you know how good you made him feel. You wrap your lips around his cock, moving your head up and down. Slowly, trying to get him going and eager for you. It worked very fast, he grabs a fist full of your hair, tugging it gently trying to get you to pick up the pace. It was hard to take him in your mouth without choking, you hadn’t been blessed with no gag reflex like most. Taking him little by little however, was driving him insane.

“Too big for you to handle now?” He asks, you can just in-vision the smirk plastered across his face. You decide to take it as a challenge, taking him until he hits the back of your throat. You hold in your gags, but the tears forming in your eyes can’t hide that you’re struggling with taking every inch of him.

“Fuck.” He mutters out, leaning his head up to watch the sight in-front of him. A sight that as much as he was ashamed to admit, thought about from time to time even while he was married to Donna. You pull your mouth off of him, slowly, letting him feel every movement as you do. He groans out, as you straighten yourself up, he’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts. Silently, he begs you to take them off. You begin to unbutton them and he helps get your underwear and shorts off swiftly. Eager to be inside of you. You reach your hands down to discard your shirt before you slide yourself down onto him. Your walls stretching with every inch you take of him. Moaning out, you rest your hands on his chest. He places his hands back onto your hips, helping you move and watches your face as you adjust to him.

“Oh my God. Ope.” You whimper out, moving yourself faster and more steady onto him. A hand finds its way to your breast, grasping it firmly. He moves his hand farther up to your mouth, he drags his thumb over your lips slowly. You open your mouth far enough for him to graze it over your teeth. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back. The feeling of him reinserting himself makes you whine out, arching your back as he picks up a steady pace. You turn your head, closing your eyes and taking in the feeling of pleasure that’s overwhelming your senses. He uses one of his hands to turn your head back to him, holding it there.

“I want you to look me in the eyes. I want to see how good I make you feel.” The words make you even wetter than you were, which at this point you’d thought was impossible. He feels your nails digging into his back, using your hands to pull him closer to you. Looking at your face and the way you tightly had your legs wrapped around him, he knew you were close to cumming. He speeds up, thrusting into you faster and a touch harder than before.

“Fuck! Ope-“ You’re unable to get another word out before you feel yourself tighten around him. You grab him, pulling him down and smashing your lips against his. You grind against him, making sure to ride the orgasm as long as possible. Feeling you grind against him sends him over the edge, he groans out as he releases into you. You would thank God later for the birth control pills, but right now that was the last thing on your mind. He pulls himself out of you, laying down beside you as you both try to catch your breaths. You try to make the shaking in your legs stop, but it’s useless. You decide to just lay there until you don’t feel shaky or hazy.

“So much for small talk huh?” You ask, he chuckles and stretches out his arm for you to come over. You do so, resting your head on his chest. The feeling feels so good, so familiar and you hate to think about it ending. Suddenly dreading going back home.

“Yeah. Maybe we can do that in the morning.” He says, kissing the top of your head.

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 8.2 K Warnings: None Prompt: It's a snow day! This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it. Proofread by lovely: @aremuslupinsimp

THIS CHAPTER CAN ALSO BE READ AS A ONESHOT

Chapter 35: Chill of Desire

Tuesday, December, 14th, 1976

“It’s snowing!” you heard Mary squeal, her excited tone waking you up instantly, and causing you to smile as you looked through the window. Mary had propped the window open and extended her hand as she stared outside.

It wasn’t only snowing then, in fact, it had been snowing all night, all the towers, the fields and the valley were covered by a thick layer of snow. The trees stood tall, their branches delicately coated, creating a magical-looking scene, more magical than Hogwarts already was, anyway. 

You had the view of the forest from your window, and you could see the Whomping Willow shaking off the layers of snow that had fallen over him at night, which made you smile, the memory of the devious night having been replaced by so many cuddles with the boys that the looking at the Willow was not as stressful as it had been at some point, you didn’t think of how Remus had gotten hurt by it, but rather you thought of how you had kissed Sirius under it. And how you might be going to meet Moony later that month, as Vixen this time around. 

The courtyards and pathways were like winding paths through a snowy maze, and the usually bustling grounds were hushed under the soft blanket of snow, you could see a few students outside enjoying the white fields –especially the younger ones– you still had hours before you had to get to class, you realised when you eyed the small cuckoo clock your mom had given you at the beginning of the year.  It wasn’t even time for you to go on your morning flight yet, but you thought perhaps it would be a good idea to skip flying in favour of playing in the snow, even if it was just for a day, you were sure you’d be able to convince James if you managed to recruit Remus and Sirius first. 

The world outside seemed to have taken a pause, wrapped in the serene beauty of winter, with barely a few students playing in the snow and trying to get from one spot of the castle to the other without making much noise. Of course, that wouldn’t last long, not as long as you could help it. You stood up and changed into something warm, putting on Remus’ sweater. You had taken the habit of wearing a lot more often since you wanted to test a theory that had cemented itself in your brain since the day of the Slytherin sweater incident. 

Once you were ready you turned to the girls “Come outside in like…” You pondered for a second, 5 minutes to wake up Sirius, another 5 for the two of you to convince Remus to join your shenanigans. Like 10 minutes to convince Prongs and about 4 for them all to get ready. Peter would be coming the minute you convinced Potter, so you didn’t worry much about that, “30 minutes,” you said, adding a few minutes to spare  “It’ll be fun.” 

“How fun?” Lily asked, a look of worry on her face that made you laugh. 

“It’s a snow day Lils, it’ll be brilliant, I promise!” you said with a smile plastered on your face as you put on a pair of boots and disappeared from their sight. Returning just a second later to take the invisibility cloak you had borrowed from James the previous night. You had it on a ball, and neither of the girls asked about it since they had assumed it was just a blanket you borrowed from Sirius or something. The minute you stepped out, you turned over a corner and put it on, walking straight towards the boy’s dormitories. 

Once outside their door you took a deep breath and leaned your ear close to the door, just wanting to make sure they were all still asleep. Which, as you predicted, they had been. You smiled and used your wand to open their door with a tweak on the classic “alohomora” that Remus has taught you. 

They had charmed their door, obviously, they had, but Remus –who often left his keys since he rushed in the mornings– had found a way around their own charm and taught it to you since you had been sneaking in to cuddle him and Padfoot, as Vixen of course. It hadn’t been every day, but you had all agreed that you’d have to do it a lot more often closer to the moon, to make sure the smell of the pack was well rubbed. 

You thought you already smelled like them enough, but neither of them seemed convinced. Or rather, neither of them wanted to stop cuddling each other, and you didn’t either. Padfoot was fluffy and Remus was always warm, which was especially nice on colder nights, the kind that were already much more common because of the time of the year you were in. And, sometimes, rather often, Sirius would turn back into himself and cuddle both you and Remus, only to turn back into Pads in the morning. If either Pete or James knew, they didn’t say a thing. Remus had always been asleep, or at least pretended, so neither you nor Sirius noticed, and you, who would lay half a top of Remus half a top of Sirius who had now learned exactly how to pet you, weren’t about to complain either. 

Once inside you looked at the boys and opened one of the windows with a swish of your wand, bringing a small blizzard inside the room and leaning in over Sirius’ bed, letting the snow fall slowly over his delicate features. He had his mouth slightly parted, and his hair sprawled all around him. He was the loveliest thing to look at; he looked like a princess, like Snow White, you thought, especially when a small snowflake got stuck on his thick black lashes. No wonder Prince Charming wanted to kiss the girl awake. You too felt tempted to kiss him.

“Sirius,” you whispered. 

He groaned, and you whispered his name again, giving in and giving him the kiss you wanted, a quick peck over one of his eyes, feeling how the snowflake over his lash melted away with the warmth of your mouth. He opened his eyes and looked at you, and then around, there was snow all over, coating you, himself and his bed as you leaned over him with a sneaky little smile on your face. The smile that oh so clearly stated, you were up to something. 

You were looking at him in such a way that he forced himself to clear his throat, trying to think of anything other than his morning discomfort. On days like this, he would get a shower and release himself of those thoughts, and something else. But clearly, that wasn’t an option at that particular moment, let alone with you leaning on top of him like that. You licked your lips and he almost cursed. 

“Sirius,” you said again “It’s snowing!” 

“I can tell Starshine,” he said as he picked a small snowflake that had gotten stuck in your hair, watching it dissolve in his fingers before he turned back to you. Well done, Sirius, she hasn’t noticed, he applauded for himself. 

You smiled and leaned in closer to him, his breath hitched in his throat, you had no fucking idea what you were doing to him. You leaned enough to whisper in his ear. “Help me convince Prongs to play in the snow instead of practice.” 

He almost frowned, turning to get a better look at you. “You’ve never had a snow day?” 

“I’ve had…” you said, “but never with you.” 

He sighed at your words but turned to you with a warm smile. “Fine, let’s go,” He said as he sat on the bed, still thinking of ways to get rid of his problem, his covers falling discreetly over it. If only there was a spell for that. 

“No, first we must convince Remus.” 

“Remus, why?” 

“If Remus is in, there’s no way Prongs will  say no, even if we’re skipping practice.” 

Sirius seemed to be processing what you said but nodded. “Go ahead, I’ll go change,” he said, motioning for you to move as he leaned over to find his shirt “bet he’ll like it if you wake him up with snow too,” he said with a devious smile and you rolled your eyes, giving him a soft peck in the mouth before walking over to Remus, bringing the small blizzard along with you. 

Had it been a few weeks ago, you might have been hesitant to do exactly what you were about to do, but you had climbed onto Remus’ bed so often in the past few days, either for cuddling as Vixen or just for chilling, that it was almost more natural than it was to climb onto your own. It was like climbing onto Sirius’ bed even, although, lately the two of you spend a lot more time on Remus’ bed than his own, because of the scent thing.

You leaned over and watched the small snowflakes fall over Remus’ face, he looked just as handsome as Sirius had. Or perhaps, the way to describe Sirius correctly would be ethereal, Remus was handsome. 

“Hey Rem,” you said softly, placing his hand over his shoulder. This time around, you decided to be softer, and more careful, not forgetting that one time he had pinned you on his bed. He stirred, brows furrowed lightly and nose almost imperceptibly scrunched up. 

“Sirius?”  he asked, not opening his eyes, you smelled like Sirius, and you and him. Your scents had been so mixed at this point, he just assumed it was Sirius since it would make more sense for it to be him, especially to be bothering him so early in the morning, not that he minded, not as long as it was him.

“Try again,” you said with a smile. 

Remus hummed content, “Little Witch.” 

You eyed him cautiously, his eyes were still closed and you leaned a little closer, shaking his shoulder lightly. Then he all but grabbed you by the waist and pushed you to him, Remus was still way too asleep to process what he was doing, and you fell over his torso as he tightened his grip. When Sirius walked out of the bathroom he spotted the two of you and thought it was the most adorable thing he’d seen, even if you had a small frown as you tried to fight your way out of the werewolf’s grip. But Remus was way too fucking strong. 

You huffed and turned to Sirius “Mind a little help?” you mouthed, he smirked in response. In seconds he turned into Padfoot and walked over to the two of you, leaning his head into yours for a second before jumping so his paws were on the bed and then, he leaned over and started licking Remus’ face. 

You barely managed to see Remus scrunch his face before he opened his eyes, looking rather startled. First, there was snow; second, Sirius had woken him by licking his fucking face; and third, you were laying horizontally across his torso, your head tilting slightly to the side with a rather amused expression, and he was holding you there. 

“What the fuck?” 

“You’re very grabby in the mornings,” Sirius said, now back in his human form and staring at Remus with his face laid over his crossed arms, which were leaning on the same spot Padfoot’s paws had been on, smile plastered on his lips.

 Fucking hell he looks adorable, Remus thought. 

And so did you, calmly lying there as you waited for him to loosen his grip. You didn’t mind waiting all that much either, Remus was comfortable. And then Sirius turned to you, placing one of his hands over your hair and letting it gently slide out, causing your head to turn towards the two of them in his action “Look at the poor thing, waiting there patiently for you to let her go Moony.”

You frowned, condescending. You were about to argue, but there was something about the way both boys looked at you that also made you want to shut up, as if you didn’t want to break whatever spell had been cast over the three. And it wasn’t the first time either. You blinked a couple of times. “Poor thing my ass,” you managed to say to Sirius, even if you let him play with your hair still. 

Remus almost reached to do the same, his hand twitched, but you didn’t notice, you had closed your eyes as Sirius continued to play with your hair. Looking rather content in the position. A small spark of rage came to Remus and he tightened his grip around you, only for a second until he realised that he was way out of line and let you go. You didn’t move, just enjoyed Sirius’ hand for a few more seconds and Remus wished he could be the one to make you feel like that. Eventually, you took a deep breath and opened your eyes again, biting your lip as you looked at Remus “It’s snowing.” 

He looked around and raised his eyebrows at you, his face clearly stating “no shit Sherlock”. 

“Starshine here wants to go play out there in the snow with us,” Sirius said. 

You were about to swat him for being so haughty with you, but you realised by the way the corner in his mouth lifted forward, he was just doing it to piss you off. You didn’t even realise the way Remus had gulped with how intensely you were glaring at Sirius. 

“Or we could just stay and cuddle,” you said with a sneaky little smile, you knew Sirius was already eager to go out there and play with the snow. Two people could play his little game. But both boys liked the idea just as much as the prospect of going out in the snow with you. 

“Let’s go,” Remus said as he patted you on the leg casually, a signal for you to get off him. If Sirius noticed his gesture, he didn’t seem to care much that he had done it, and you didn’t seem to notice either. It was almost as if the three of you had special concessions with each other that wouldn’t be allowed to many others. For example, Sirius would surely be pissed if you had been cuddling Tom, or even Peter, but with Remus, he didn’t seem to mind, heck he even encouraged it sometimes. Not that any of the three noticed these little things, but some people did. 

“Get changed,” You told Rem with a bit of a smile, “We’ll go wake James.” 

Remus nodded and both you and Sirius stood up. You walked over to James’ bed, and Sirius was about to jump over him to wake him up with a thud, but you stopped him, bringing in your small blizzard over his friend. Sirius smiled and took his wand out, making more snow come inside, and having relatively strong –and cold– winds blow over Prongs. 

Neither of you was being half as gentle as you had been with Remus, was it because you knew Moony’s short temper or… something else? Perhaps it was part of those special concessions you allowed one another. 

James started to shiver, pulling his covers higher up only for Sirius to slide them down again with a swish of your wand. Only then did you realise Prongs had been shirtless under the covers. You gasped silently at the sight, covering your mouth and staring. Prongs was fucking ripped, not as much as Remus but certainly ripped. You did not remember him being so fit back when you had been him.

Sirius nudged you with his shoulder when he noticed you were staring “Stop ogling him, will you?” he said slightly annoyed, he tried to hide it, and it slipped pass you. 

You shook your head, still amazed. “Do you have a camera? Lily should know.” 

Ah… so that’s why she’s staring at Prongs, fair enough, Sirius thought. He stared too, also thinking that while Prongs was ripped, Remus was much better. The snow became thicker around Prongs as Sirius’ thoughts focused on his other friend, the wind became even stronger, blowing on James’ hair, and making it even messier than usual. You were about to tell Sirius to hold back a little when James woke up, sitting on his bed fast and in panic. 

“Wakey-wakey Rudolf!” You said with a smile. 

Remus, who was just stepping out of the bedroom, looked at the two of you, wicked smiles on your faces while James stared, almost horrified, and he smiled. His two naughty little crushes. He wondered if you’d reach in to cuddle him and Sirius tonight, he wanted you to do it, he wanted you to do it really bad. 

“What in the bIoody–“ 

You were about to speak, but Sirius stole your line “It’s snowing!” 

“It’s freezing, that's what is!” he said as he pulled the covers, but you took them from him and dangled them in the air. 

“No-uh Prongs, it’s time to get up!” He gave you a reproachful look, “Come on! It’s a snow day, we must play in the snow a little before it melts away… and class starts.” 

The blizzard you and Sirius had caused was already dissipating, leaving the beds of the boys, and their floor, just a little slippery. But James peered to the window. “I highly doubt the snow’s gonna melt away anytime soon, luv… Besides, what about flying?” 

“No flying today mate,” Remus intervened from behind the two, gently placing his hands on both yours and Sirius’ shoulders, “It’s snow day, and the first one of the season.” 

“But…” 

You sighed. “Lily will be there,” you added. 

James’ eyes pretty much beamed after you said that and he ran up to his trunk, throwing a pillow towards Peter’s bed who woke up completely confused, “Why am I being attacked?” he asked with a frown. 

“It’s a snow day Pete, we’re all coming out to play!” You said excitedly, Peter blinked as if wondering why the hell you were in his room before remembering you had been over more often than not lately, and because of his idea, that is.

“Morning Vix,” he said politely. “Fancy seeing you here,” he added as a joke.

“Oh.. piss off and change before you start teasing us all over again,” Sirius responded.

And he had been teasing you rather often. Since you started cuddling Remus together, he wouldn’t stop with the canine jokes. Either Puppy cuddles, lovable howlers, or whatever the hell came into his mind at that moment. He found it hilarious that the three of you were so close and that the three of you were a variant of the canine family. Something about being meant to be or whatever. 

Peter just snickered and walked into the bathroom with clothes in hand, James didn’t even care, he straight up turned around and took off his pants right there in front of you, which had Sirius pull you to look at him and Remus cover your eyes with his hands. You laughed at their silly reactions. “Yo, Rem, when I said I would let you blindfold me, I didn’t think you’d actually go through with it.” 

“Sly little fox, promising things without meaning them, are we?” He teased. 

You laughed again, letting your head shake. Remus was eyeing Sirius then, and Sirius returned the stare, the two of them stayed like that, almost frozen as they looked at each other, your laughter almost fading into the background as Sirius turned his gaze towards Remus’ diverted smile. Remus has a pretty smile, pretty like Starshine’s, he thought. 

“Is he done?” You asked, pulling on Moony’s hand to try and see a little bit better. That broke their trance and the two of them turned back to look at you, Sirius’ eyes flickering to your lips for a second, thinking he might actually be going insane. 

“Yeah, I’m done,” James said as he leaned over and placed an arm around your shoulders. “Why are we hogging Vixen?” 

“She came to wake us up with a fucking snowfall, now she must suffer,” Remus said as if it were the most natural thing. You nudged him lightly, about to say something when Peter stepped out, several layers of sweaters over him. 

You smiled “You get cold easy, Wormy?” 

“He’s got no tolerance,” James said, “and he always forgets the warming spell.”

“I could help you with it,” you offered.

“Thanks,” he said with a genuine smile, “but I’ve come prepared,” he added as he pulled a small piece of parchment from the pocket of his coat, showing it off in between his index and ring finger. “Annie gave it to me and charmed it so I wouldn’t lose it,” he explained, “It always reappears in my pockets now.” 

“What? That’s brilliant!” you said reaching for the parchment and taking it from Peter’s hand for a second, looking at the symbols in the back. Remus approached you from behind to take a look.

 “It’s complicated magic,” he said. 

“It looks like an altered version of Homunculus,” Sirius said, he too had approached you and stared at the back of the small paper. 

“Mixed with a clinging spell and a respawn one,” you added perplexed, “It’s incredible…” you said breathily, disbelief lacing your tone.

“Indeed.” Peter proudly raised his head. “Annie is insanely clever.” 

You smiled and gave the paper back to him, before frowning and turning to the boys. “Do you guys think the Homunculus charm could help with the map?” you asked with a frown. 

Remus bit his lip as he thought about it and then turned to you, “Vixen, that’s it! If we take the homunculus cham and somehow connect it to Hogwarts Magic–” 

“And then bind it to the core of the map then… we could have absolutely every single student, teacher and visitor to the castle tagged at once!” 

Remus nodded, “No more sneaking charms in their robes and backpacks! Fucking hell, we’ve cracked it!” 

You and Remus were staring at each other with such sheer excitement over it, so hyped up that the boy almost reached out to kiss you, managing to stop, and clenched his fist by his side. 

“Nerds,” Peter teased, dragging out the e slightly. 

“But hot ones,” Sirius added inadvertently, giving a small shrug as he did.

Remus turned to Sirius with a frown, but you just placed your hand over one of his shoulders and nodded. “Indeed we are,” you said and sent a wink his way. You then spun on your heel back to the rest of the marauders “Shall we? The girls must be waiting for us by now,” you said, standing on your toes to look over Sirius’ shoulders, at the clock. 

 A few seconds later, and due to James’ idea, you were all running down the stairs and through the halls, in an attempt to get to the orchards as fast as possible. 

“Do not run in the halls!” you heard a couple of scandalised paintings scream, and you just giggled as Sirius threw a silencing spell their way. The portraits looking at him enraged as you all kept running. By the time you reached the doors to the grounds, you were all panting, cheeks burning and grinning like fools.

You were bent down trying to catch your breath when you felt a snowball that came from the outside straight to your face. The boys gasped and started laughing as you dusted off the remnants of snow and looked up and tried to spot where it had come from. You continued to scan the field, only to find Lily Evans, smiling and waving at you with the most guilty expression you had ever seen in a person. 

Now it was your turn to gasp. “That’s what you get for waking us all up early,” She shouted from a few metres in the distance. 

“Mary woke us up!” You argued, “I only made arrangements.” 

“No, no,” James said, a wicked smile on his face. “You did wake us up early,” he added as he pointed at all the marauders. “And with a fucking blizzard,” the boy was already walking towards the redhead, “I say it’s time for payback.” 

You were about to say something when you received another snowball in the face, you looked at the boy with an expression of absolute betrayal as the leftover snow fell over your coat. “James Potter you little shit!” you said. He gave you a daring look in return. And you scoffed amused. Then you leaned down and made a small ball, packing the snow gently before throwing it his way. James easily veered out of the way, which you should have expected, since he was so used to dodging bludgers. 

“That all you got? You’d make a terrible beater, luv!” he teased, taking the ball Lily gave him and launching it your way, this time around you managed to dodge, but the ball fell right on the side of Sirius’ head. 

“Prongs, my hair!” he whined. Both you and Remus snickered, the taller boy was now the one passing you a snowball, allowing his hand to linger just for a second too long, as he did, not that anyone noticed, Sirius was too busy taking snow out of his hair and Peter had run off somewhere earlier. You smiled and brought the ball up to your face.

Using what you learned from charms to perform a small, wandless spell, over the projectile, you smiled wickedly and threw it his way again. James dodged to the side but the snowball turned with him and landed square on his face. You laughed as James looked at you with absolute shock, trying to remember if you had –at any point– taken your wand out. When he realised you hadn’t, he was half impressed, and just as he was pushing his glasses back on his face, he received another ball on the side of his head, his hair getting filled with snow as he gasped. 

Sirius –who had thrown the ball– was waving at him with a smile. Until seconds later he too received a snowball on his face, a laugh from Marlene as she nudged Mary echoed in the distance. 

Remus was about to pass you another snowball when he too got hit, square on his chest –the lucky bastard– by none other than Beth Doxon. She smiled, her bright red hair being covered by a warm Gryffindor cap. “Come on Professor Lupin! Stop passing balls and start throwing them!” she taunted, Remus took the ball in his hands and threw it her way. 

“Kind of fits you,” you said with a smile as you leaned down for another ball and moved it to your mouth to charm it again, “Professor Lupin, it’s got a ring to it.” 

“I much prefer the sound of Professor Moony,” Sirius teased from behind, “encapsulates his personality better.”

“Sod off, Pads!” Remus said, also crouching down to get more snowballs, when he stood up, and another ball came your way, you quickly moved behind him. He turned to you in disbelief. “What am I? Your human shield?” he asked, just as a snowball fell on the side of his face. 

“And an effective one, isn’t he Kit?” 

“Very,” you responded with a light giggle. “It’s about his broad shoulders,” you said as you placed both hands on them, Remus tensed, looking at Sirius, thinking he might be angry, or jealous, or something. But neither of those things happened, instead, he joined your praising. 

“And he’s tall too,” Sirius added, walking right behind you, and placing his hands over your shoulders, really close to your neck, in fact, close enough so his cold fingers crashed against your warm skin, which caused you to hiss and step away from him, crashing onto Remus. 

“Shit Sirius!” You complained as you attempted to tighten the scarf around your neck “You’re cold as fuck.” 

“But you warm my heart baby,” he teased, an overly gooey tone in his voice as he extended his hands towards you again, you knew exactly what he was about to do and you scurried out of his grasp and ran towards the snow, even if you got a few snowballs thrown your way as you tried to cross the field. You found a statue and with a quick confringo, melted the snow at the top to make a dent and take cover.

You quickly made a ball from the snow at your side and threw it on Sirius’ hair, leaning your head just enough time for him to notice it had been you. He eyed you, diverted and then you felt a snowball hit the back of your head, you turned around just enough to find Remus with another snowball in his hand.  

“Scoot over, will you?” He said as he leaned down, as if ready to enter your improvised trench. 

“No, you threw a snowball in my head,” you responded, feigning annoyance. 

Remus chuckled and placed one of his legs inside your trench either way, “And you used me as your shield, we’re even.” 

You shook your head in amusement but scooted over either way. Remus swished his wand and suddenly a pile of snowballs appeared behind you. You smiled and took your own wand out, whispering the same locating spell over all of them. Remus raised his eyebrow at you as if he was impressed, and you shot him a wink as you took a ball and leaned over to throw it towards Lily, meanwhile, Remus was throwing some Beth’s way. 

“You’ve abandoned me for a sexy werewolf I see,” Sirius whispered in your ear, he had apparated just behind the two of you. He had been practising since your last class when Professor Dumbledore allowed you all to try doing it for the first time by yourselves, and he was insufferably good at it. 

“The werewolf doesn’t want to bury his freezing cold hands on my neck,” you said –if only you knew where he wanted to bury them– without even turning to look at your boyfriend, if you had, you’d probably go soft at the sight of his eyes. He often got what he wanted from you with just a look, and he fucking knew it all too well. Not that you didn’t have the same effect on him, hence, you two were absolutely chaotic together. 

Your small trench was barely enough for the three of you to fit in together, and it’s not that either of you was a stranger to touching each other, but Remus was feeling the heat rise up to his cheeks as your shoulders brushed against his, but much more worse when his back brushed against Sirius’ smaller chest. It was like the Halloween party all over again, but this time Remus didn’t want to run away. 

Well, perhaps a part of him did, but the rest of him, the part that had thoroughly enjoyed cuddling Vixen and Padfoot, wanted to do the exact same to you and Sirius. He wanted the two of you to be his, to slather you with his scent so much that the entire world knew who you belonged to. 

Of course, that was ridiculous, Remus knew, but he was hungry, Moony was hungry, the problem is he didn’t want food, he wanted his two best friends. 

A nudge in his stomach pulled him out of his thoughts. “Mind teaching me how to make so many balls at once Professor Lupin?” 

“It’s Professor Moony,” Sirius insisted, he had to duck as a ball flew towards his head in that instant. 

You rolled your eyes “Rem?” 

He was still a little shaken by the thought, almost hazy with how thrilled being so close to the two of you made him feel. “Yeah sure, just… whisper pila nix,” he said as he showed you what he did. “It’s a simple swish and curl.” 

You did as told and in seconds there was another pile of snowballs ready for you to use. Sirius looked at Remus surprised. “You’re a great teacher mate,” he said, “should try helping her with transfiguration.” 

You groaned at that “You know I’m a lost cause,” you said as you ducked, the small ball falling straight on Sirius’ face. He tugged your hair lightly “Oi, what was that for?” you complained, turning to look up at him.

“So you warn me next time.” 

You looked at him amused, and grabbed some snow from the side of your trench, “Hey Puppy, there’s a snowball coming your way,” he looked around, as if trying to find the offender, only to receive one right from where you were crouching. 

He turned to look back at you shocked and smiled as he shook his head, “Oh you little Minx!” he said as he bit his lip, “I was letting you go scot-free earlier.” 

“Not my fault you didn’t see the ball,” you said, unconsciously etching closer to Remus. 

“Aww darling…” Sirius said as he crouched next to you, and pulled you into a hug. 

“Sirius, what– what are you, fuck…” you said springing up from the spot you were on, his hand –his freezing cold hand– that he had slipped under both your shirt and sweater had landed on your bare back. You stood behind Remus again, using him to shield yourself from Sirius. “Treason!” you said dramatically. 

“You don’t want another hug from your boyfriend?” he asked with a playful pout. 

You shook your head, still feeling the cold of his hand. If the snow fight was still going, neither of you was paying too much attention to it. Let alone Remus, who was really struggling not to let the feeling of you pressed against his back get the best of him. Only made worse by the way Sirius’ wrapped his arms around him and pressed himself to the boy as he tried to reach you either way.

Do they not fucking know about personal space?, he thought. But of course, you didn’t, not when the two of you had been cuddling him every other night. Needless to say, it was different for him, he was just cuddling two fluffy animals when he fell asleep –except in those rare occasions Sirius would turn back– meanwhile, both you and Sirius were just cuddling good old Remus. This wasn’t any closer to him than you’d been already. 

Remus didn’t speak, he was holding his breath. Sirius kept fucking pressing against him and you kept squirming behind his back. The golden specks of his eyes were so golden they looked like a different colour altogether, more like Moony’s than his own. The chocolaty brown shifting into dangerous and shimmering aureate. 

“Moony! Moony help!” you called out in between laughs.

“Don’t you dare, Moons!” Sirius warned. 

Sirius pressed harder as you tried to squirm away and it was enough for him to feel bIood run south. He had to stop this before either of you noticed what was happening to him, so he turned around and grabbed both of your shoulders, digging his hands in between your necks and the back of your heads, enough force to get your attention, but not enough to hurt either of the two. 

Sirius seemed to be shocked at how much warmer Remus’ hands were in comparison to his, to yours. You were not, you knew Remus tended to run on the warmer side. Hence, cuddling him on cold nights was so useful. “Enough,” he said, flashing his golden eyes at the two of you, the colour slowly sinking back into brown as the two of you looked at him as if his eyes had been those of a basilisk instead of his own, frozen. 

And then, you eyed Sirius, a small smirk playing on the corner of your lips as you sank your hands back in the snow. He smirked in return, sinking his hands as well. By the time Remus noticed your intentions, your hands –icy and freezing– were on his neck and Sirius had slid his hand under Remus’ shirt. 

Merlin knew who had been more startled after that. You, who had tumbled as you pulled on Remus and had him fall on top of you. Remus who had been shocked at the way Sirius had gone straight for his stomach –which in truth, had been a lot more shocking than the cold– and had his breath hitch in his throat. Or Sirius Black, who was only now contemplating his actions, realizing how awkward it must have been for his friend, and having a mini panic attack over the fact that digging his hands under Remus’ sweater felt as fucking thrilling as it did. 

Remus was a lot less soft and a lot more firm than you were. And he adored your softness, but fuck, Remus’ harder frame felt impious under his hands. It felt lurid, licentious, beguiling… and it placed some rather salacious thoughts in his head. 

Thoughts that… would be worthy of a muggle rock star. Of Freddie and Bowie, and perhaps even Elton. But Sirius was not– he wasn’t because if he had been… he’d know, right?

As you still had Remus pulled by the neck, you received yet another ball on the head, the leftover even splashing onto Remus whose head was so close to you that you could smell his hair, and then, you started laughing. So hard that you weren’t even feeling the cold against your back, the snow slowly sinking in your robes and soaking them. 

Sirius was the next one to laugh, taking his hands off of Remus’ stomach and letting himself fall next to the two of you as he continued to cackle. And lastly, Remus joined, you still hadn’t let go of his neck, almost using it as a personal heater at that point, he didn’t seem to mind, and eventually he just sort of relaxed into you, if you felt the shift in weight as he let go, you didn’t seem to mind at all either. 

“Well, well, well, would you look at the love puppies all cosied up while we continue the snowball fight.” 

Sirius grabbed a snowball from the side and threw it his way without even looking, and since they all had the missile spell it landed straight onto Peter’s face. “Shut it Wormtail,” he said, borderline rudely. 

While Sirius had never minded being called “Love Puppy” or whatever other joke Peter came up with, that was before he started doubting himself about whatever the hell was happening to him whenever he spotted Remus. Especially after exactly what he was feeling after he placed his hands under the other boy’s shirt, especially because it had been so fucking similar to the feeling he got when he did it to you. 

“We’re off for breakfast. You are not planning to stay all tangled in your little love trench, are you?” Peter asked again, whipping his face off the snow and paying no mind to Sirius and how rude he’d been. 

“We might be,” you joked, your hands had unconsciously travelled to Remus’ head after he laid down and you were now toying with his hair. He had silky hair, a little thicker in comparison to Sirius’ curls. Remus hummed in agreement, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the way your hands felt on his scalp. If Sirius thought it was weird, it had been his fault he ended up on top of you anyway. A part of him was telling him how bad of an argument that was, but it was easy enough to ignore it when Sirius didn’t seem to mind, and your hands felt heavenly. 

“Suit yourselves, I heard there was going to be an assortment of Christmas pies today,” he said with a shrug. 

Your head snapped his way. “Christmas pies, you said?” you asked, eyes shining and mouth watering at the thought. Your soft touch on Remus’ head switched to an unintended pull of his hair as you turned.

“Ouch!” He complained. 

You winced, “Sorry Rem,” you said, not even turning to him as you patted him on the shoulder and wriggled your way out of the sandwich he had trapped you in with the snow. He tried not to look disappointed as he stood back on the small trench. By then you were already standing outside of it, and looking at Peter as if you wanted him to elaborate. 

“The elves mentioned something,” he said simply. “Apple, pecan, peach, chocolate, some savoury ones too I assume.”

If you were a cartoon, you’d be drooling. “Well boys, pleasure messing with you and all that, but it’s pie time,” you said as you turned to walk behind Peter and the rest. 

“Who’s the traitor now?” Sirius shouted with a smile. 

“I’ll save you boys a seat,” was your only reply as you started sprinting towards the Great Hall, determined to be among the first to arrive so you could choose from the assortment of pies available. 

The boys caught up with you as you were taking a seat, already having walked through the length of the table and picked out the pies that you’d be eating. When they sat down, Remus at one side of you and Sirius purposely taking the other side to keep some distance from himself and the source of his thoughts. You picked two pies from your plate and placed them in front of each of the boys. 

“What’s this?” Remus asked as he picked it up. 

You were about to give a bite to one of the tarts you’d picked and said “Pie,” with a shrug, taking a bite right after and moaning at how good it was. 

Sirius’ whose head had already been messy that day, had to adjust his pants uncomfortably. First, you woke him up and he couldn’t complete his morning routine, then there was the whole confusing thing whatever the hell was going on in his brain when he was close to Moony and lastly, you moaning shamelessly as you ate. 

“No shit Sherlock,” Remus said as he pushed you lightly, shoving you against Sirius whose breath hitched as you laid your cheek on his shoulder and pressed a light kiss. “I mean, what’s it made of?” You sat straight and pushed Remus in return. 

“Try it, I know you’ll like it!” you said with a smile and gave another bite to yours. He gave you a distrusting look. “Oh come on, Moony! I wouldn’t give you something you don’t like! You’d get all pissy and Pissy Moony is no fun.” 

“Pissy Moony?” he asked, almost offended. “You have a term for that?” 

You left your pie on the table and raised his up to his mouth. “Sirius told me about it,” you said, “Now eat up, I promise you’ll like it.” 

He gave you one last side eye and then gave it a bite, missing your hands the moment you brought them back to your plate to take a bite of yours. 

“Cherries and chocolate,” Remus said with a smile as he turned to you. “I love it. How did you know?” 

You shrugged, “I’m just that brilliant.” 

“Will you also mouth-feed your boyfriend or is that only reserved for dear Moony?” Sirius flirted, trying to regain some sort of control of the dire situation he found himself in. 

Sirius didn’t mean anything by it, but the way he’d said “your boyfriend” straight up felt like a jab on Remus’ heart. Sirius was right, the two of you were dating and he seemed to be intruding more and more lately. But then again, the only times Sirius seemed upset about how close you all were, were when he was teasing. 

You rolled your eyes, but decided to take his pie in your hands either way “Close your eyes,” you instructed. Sirius gave you a weary look but did as told. “Try and guess what it is, deal?” you asked as you leaned it closer to his mouth. He leaned enough to give it a bite and then turned to you surprised “Is that…? Does it have firewhiskey?” 

You smiled and pulled out a small bottle from your pocket, “Thought you’d like something a little different,” you said with a smile “peaches and firewhiskey.” Sirius took the pie from your hands, his discomfort almost fading in the background as he took a look at the pie you’d given him. 

“But how?” 

You shrugged “Added the firewhiskey and then did a small warming spell so it cooked a bit. I’m sure it would be better if they were cooked together from the start but I thought you’d appreciate a little spice…”

“I do, wanna taste it?” he asked as he passed it over, you gave it a small bite and all but moaned again, even closing your eyes and letting your head fall back just a little, exposing your neck to both boys, who could barely keep their eyes away from it, especially Remus. “Fuck I’m an incredible cook, Moons taste this out too!” you said as you, for the second time that day, shove a pie close to his face. When he gave a bite he couldn’t help but taste both you and Sirius in it. It really was fucking delicious. 

He nodded as Sirius leaned over you to take the pie from Moony, their hands brushing against each other and giving both boys an electric-like feel, not because of actual electrical shock, but rather because of what they felt for each other. Sirius reclined back on his seat and placed his hand on your leg, seeking the hem of your skirt before sliding it over your skin. 

Same fucking feeling. 

You looked at his hand and nudged him lightly, he gave you a flirty wink in return that made you laugh and Remus tried to avert his gaze from both Sirius’ hand and the way your skirt had ridden up a good deal. 

You gave another bite of your pie and turned to Remus, as casually as you could muster –even if you were a bit nervous to ask, which you shouldn’t be because he was your friend– “Wanna come to Slughorn’s Christmas Party with me?”  No better time than now, right?

Remus wasn’t so sure about that, he almost choked on his own pie, he wiped his mouth with the back of his sweater before turning to yours with a frown “I’m sorry, what?” 

Sirius started drawing circles on your leg, the way your skirt moved with each of his strokes didn’t escape Remus’ nervous gaze on you. “The Christmas Party from the Slug Club, I’m supposed to bring someone with me” –you tilted your face with a smile– “Want to come?” 

Remus turned to Sirius, giving him a look, the other boy just shrugged with a nod but that wasn’t enough. “What about Sirius? Your boyfriend?” The words almost hurt to say. 

“He doesn't want to come,” you said. “Right, Siri?” 

“That’s more your kind of nerd stuff,” he said after he nodded, and pointed at the two of you. 

“Slughorn has never invited me, he doesn’t want me there,” he said, not sure if he was supposed to feel dejected because you were his second choice or fucking delighted because you’d want to take him and not Sirius, thought he had to remind himself that you probably did want to take Sirius. 

Remus didn’t stop to think that you would have, had you actually wanted to, easily convinced Sirius to come along. Let alone, would he have imagined that you had asked Sirius if you could take him instead. 

“That’s exactly why I want to take you”– you said as you placed his hands around his arm– “I want to show that old snake how freakin’ clever my best friend is. You deserved an invitation much more than I did anyway.” Remus gave you a reproachful look when he heard the last thing. “You’re coming, yeah? It’s always fun to prove the snakes how wrong they are with you.” 

Sirius smiled. “Come on mate, don’t make her beg,” Sirius said, flicking his finger on your thigh and letting them rest closer to the inner side, still at a prudent distance, and while you did feel the shift, you played it cool and tried not to even look. “Girl might end up taking Pete if you reject her,” he teased. 

You elbowed him softly, not because you didn’t want to take Peter, but because he was implying it would be such a terrible choice.  Of course, you’d much rather take Remus or even some of your other friends, like Tom or Minho (he was already invited) but that was because you were pretty certain Annie Doxon would hex you if you took her boyfriend. James was going with Lily, so he was completely out of the question. 

“Okay,” Remus said with a shrug, trying to seem as natural as possible. “I’ll come but… what about the date though, you know near the end of December it’s the…” 

“Moon’s on the 22nd, party is on the 21st. I know it’s just a day before and I’ll totally get it if you’re not feeling up for it by then. I wouldn’t want to make you into a Pissy Moony.” 

He pushed you with his shoulder again, “Sod off!” he said jokingly and both you and Sirius started to laugh.

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: Some people were asking for a snow day chapter, and this felt about the perfect time for it. Love playing in the snow with the boys &lt;3 Upon some requests, we have a DISCORD server now and you can all join in and chat about marauders and/or GC with other lovely people. If you wanna discuss a new oneshot or even the new chapters of GC this is your place to go. The announcement for it is here and I'll leave links to it on a reblog of this post ad in the comments.

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[repulsiveliquidation]

Nightmares and Hot Chocolate

Leah Williamson x Reader

warnings: angst, nightmares, soothing the loml.

11PM, Friday Night

Leah just got home from a night out with the Arsenal girls. Team bonding was important to the captain and the girls decided on going for a spot of dinner after late practice on Friday. The hard rap of her shoes on the hard wood floors rang through the apartment and the jingle of her keys signaled you of her return. You didn’t want to join them for dinner, deciding to have a little time to yourself while Leah enjoyed herself. You had a movie going, big bowl of popcorn and a little facemask on. You’ve been stressed at work for a while, when you told Leah about your little self-care plan, she was a little jealous to say the least.

“Hello, love.” Leah said softly as she walked into the bedroom, dopey smile on her face.

“Hi baby, how was dinner?” You looked up from where you were snuggled into her side of the bed, popcorn laid forgotten on your side of the bed. Siting up, she came over to you and kissed your forehead. You smiled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. She started to undress, eager to jump into bed and join you for the rest of your movie.

“It was nice, the girls missed you though. McCabe teased you of bailing ‘cause you didn’t like them anymore!” Leah said with a laugh, rummaging through your closet in search of your clothes instead of hers. You just sat up and watched her, eyes full of admiration for her that she didn’t see in that moment. She disappeared into the bathroom, her night routine taking barely 10 minutes so you weren’t going to be waiting on her long.

“So, what did you do all night hm?” Leah yelled from the bathroom; mouth clearly full of toothpaste.

“Where are your manners, Leah Cathrine? I just had leftovers and was watching the movie. I felt like having popcorn so I made a bag but it doesn’t taste the same as when you make it. It’s from a microwave bag, how it can taste different to when you do it is beyond me.” You answer with a wide grin when she pokes her head out of the bathroom to stick her tongue out at you.

“Well, I make it with love. You clearly went without it. But that’s a secret, I’ll kill you if you tell.” she answers walking back into the room, wearing your shorts and your t-shirt. You had moved the popcorn bowl into the kitchen and brought more pillows into the little nest you tried to make on the big bed. Leah; the child that she is; belly flops onto your hard work, sinking right into the middle of the bed and pulling your surprised form into her arms with a yelp. You turn and grin, snuggling into her strong arms.

“I missed you. I still haven’t gotten a kiss you know. Now, that’s bad manners.” Leah quips, grinning down at you as you look up at her. Her eyes are so blue and mesmerizing you almost didn’t hear her. She kisses you before you can answer, lips warm and breath minty. It’s almost too good, your lips molding into hers like the last piece of a puzzle; completely perfect. You’ve been together three years now but every time you kiss, she swears is better than the last.

Pulling away, you answer in an out of breath whisper, “I missed you too, Lee.” She surges forward again, kissing you harder than before. Her arm wraps around your shoulders tighter, her other hand cupping your cheek as your hands hold onto her shirt tightly in balled fists. You make out for a while, whispering things about your day to each other, boring movie on the telly forgotten.

3:30AM, Saturday Morning.

You wake up with a jolt, tears cascading down your cheeks. You’re out of breath, hair a downright mess. You immediately check on Leah, you didn’t even feel her wake up with you. The fear in your eyes scare her for a fraction of a second before she wraps her arms around you and pulls you into her chest.

“I’m here darling, it was just a bad dream. You’re okay, you’re safe.” She mumbles into your ear. Her deep, sleepy voice somehow gets you to start to calm down. She somehow pulls you even closer, making you sit between her legs with your back against her chest.

“Shh, darling. I need you to tell me three things you feel babygirl. Just like we practiced, hm? Can you do that for me, sweet?” Leah soothingly whispered in your ear, your breathing slowly coming down. You were shaking, her arms snaking around your waist and rubbing your clammy skin soothingly.

“U-Uh, the blanket, y-your breath, y-your hands touching m-me…” you stammered out, earning a soft kiss to your ear and a “good job baby,” from Leah.

She rocked you from side to side, knowing it soothed you. “I need three things you see, beautiful.”

You took a deep, reassured breath and began to speak, “Y-Your jacket, my computer a-and the street lamp,” your hand gripped hers, fingers intertwined on your stomach.

“I’m so proud of you, my girl. Last one, I need three things you can hear, my love.” She asked, voice just above a whisper, lips softly peppering kisses on your shoulder.  

“The bathroom light, your heart, a car going by.” You give her, no sign of fear in your voice. “Yes!” Leah thinks, proud of herself for calming you and proud of you for trusting her.

“I’m so proud of you darling, did so well for me.” She turns you around in her arms, scooting back against the headboard with you straddling her lap. You fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to look at her. The streetlamp shines a soft glow into the room, both of your faces barely visible to the other. She grabs your chin softly and turns your gaze at her. “Do you wanna talk about it?” You nod slowly, bottom lip quivering slightly. She wraps her arms around you again, ready to soothe you a second time as the tears begin to fall but this time, in a relief sort of way.

“Someone broke onto the pitch and got to you. He hurt the girls too, I couldn’t get to you in time, you died in my arms Lee, it just felt so real.” You sob into her neck, Leah rubbing your back and shushing you.

“I’m sorry that happened baby, no one’s gonna get me. I promise.”

“What if someone does?”

“I won’t let ‘em baby. If they do, I know you’ll be there to save me.”

“You can’t get hurt again; promise me.”

“I promise, my love. Now, how about some hot chocolate?”

Slowly clambering out of bed, you both walk hand in hand into the kitchen. You jump up to sit on the counter as Leah makes the hot chocolate. She can’t cook to save her life but she manages to make a good hot chocolate. The two of you sip in silence when you notice yours has more marshmallows than hers.

You were lucky to have her and she thought the same of you.

[wheels-of-despair]

The Best $7 Eddie Munson Ever Spent Pairing: Eddie Munson x You Summary: In the fall of 1983, Eddie bought something he thought was cool… but he didn't realize how important it was until a year later. Contains: Uncle Wayne, shopping, time-jumping, snuggles, a little bit of Eddie and Evil Woman's early days. Words: 1.3k

The best $7 Eddie Munson ever spent was at a thrift store just outside of Hawkins, Indiana, in the fall of 1983.

But he didn't know it until a year later.

The night before his Uncle Wayne disappeared for Thanksgiving - the man had worked overtime on every holiday he could, since he'd determined that Eddie could take care of himself - he slapped $40 on the kitchen table between their TV dinners.

"Wha'sis for?" Eddie asked through a mouthful of noodles.

"Don't talk with your mouth full."

Eddie swallowed and repeated, "What's this for?"

"Sales everywhere on Friday. Go get yourself a new coat, it's supposed to be a bad winter. And a pair of gloves that still has the damn fingers in them. Looks like I'm raisin' a hobo."

"Does not," Eddie mumbled as he swirled his fork around the pasta in his bowl. He liked his old coat… even though it was faded. And coming apart at the seams in a few places. And the cuffs were so frayed, every time he tried putting it on, his fingers got caught in the threads. And there was that hole from when he'd gotten caught on a chain-link fence during a high-speed getaway. But he'd patched it! And the gloves he'd cut the fingers out of were cool!

Wayne looked up from the piece of bread he was buttering to give his nephew a pointed stare.

"Fine," Eddie gave in. "Thanks, Uncle Wayne."

"Yeah, yeah." The old man's eyes twinkled as he waved off his nephew's thanks and took another bite.

Being a practical and frugal-minded teen, Eddie started the search for a coat at his favorite thrift store.

"Hey, kid," greeted George, the store's owner, who barely looked up from the battered Tupperware he was sticking price tags on. "Just got a pile of 8-tracks, haven't even priced 'em yet, you interested?"

"Business before pleasure," Eddie grinned at the gray-haired man. "I come seeking winter-wear."

"Winter-wear, huh? Good call. Heard it's gonna be a rough one."

"Yeah, that's what my uncle said, too," Eddie nodded.

"Check the back wall, might be somethin' back there that'll fit ya."

"Thanks!" Eddie carefully treaded through the crowded aisles of discarded treasures and found the wall of outerwear. He flipped through cheap plastic hangers holding neon windbreakers, matted fake fur, and load of crunchy raincoats that reeked of cheaper cigarettes than his. And then… he found it.

It was long, and black, and it was way too big for him.

But when he put it on and turned around, it swished around his calves and made him feel like a vampire in a cloak.

Eddie walked to the grubby mirror leaned up against the wall and checked himself out. It was whole. Almost new, even. It was warm, and he could easily fit it on over the lighter leather jacket and battle vest he wore year-round. He lifted his arms out, and the fabric rippled to his sides. He reached for the edges and pulled them away from his body, holding them out to see just how big the coat was.

It made him look like a bat.

He lifted the paper price tag attached to a button-hole by a string.

$10? Sold.

He twirled in the mirror, watching the fabric rustle and sway around him like a creature of the night. He held up an arm to cover his mouth, like he was hiding his fangs. Yep. This is it. This is the one.

He took it off and draped it over his shoulder, deciding to see if any cool t-shirts had arrived since last he'd looked. He sorted through the rack quickly. Nothing new, but you can't win 'em all.

Eddie returned to the front with the coat, and George laughed when he spotted it. "Kid, I could fit five of you in that thing."

"I like it," Eddie grinned. "It's roomy. How 'bout those 8-tracks?"

George heaved the box full of newly acquired 8-tracks onto the counter so Eddie could dig through them. It was mostly show tunes and Christmas music, but he enjoyed the hunt nonetheless.

"Nothin'?" George asked when Eddie looked up.

Eddie shook his head. "A Partridge Family Christmas isn't really my style."

George laughed and scribbled ".50 each" on the flap of the cardboard box. "Will you find a spot for that in the front window?"

"Yessir." Eddie picked up the hefty box and walked it to the front of the store. He moved some creepy dolls and nudged a red tricycle aside to make room, placed the box down with the price facing the window, and returned to the counter.

"Just the coat, then?"

"Yessir."

"$7."

"$7?" Doesn't the tag say $10?

"That thing takes up too much room. I can fit four more in its place."

Eddie grinned and passed his cash to the man behind the counter.

"I'd ask if you want a bag, but I don't think I have any I could fit that monstrosity in," George teased as he handed Eddie his change.

"Thanks, George," Eddie laughed and collected his coat. "See ya soon."

"Stay warm, kid."

The morning Wayne came home from his long and tiring holiday stretch, he found far more change than he'd expected on the table, two pairs of new gloves… and a hulking mass of black draped over the back of a chair.

Wayne picked up the coat and held it out in front of him, marveling at its size. Well, it was warm, didn't have any holes in it, and clearly hadn't cost an arm and a leg. He folded it and put it back where he found it, spotting a note underneath the cash.

"Coat was $7. It'll come in handy when I finally become a vampire."

Wayne snorted.

"Gloves were buy one, get one free. I can show you how to cut the fingers out of yours if you want to look as cool as me."

He rolled his eyes at the boy snoring down the hall, put down the note, and started getting ready for bed.

"Why is it so fucking cold? I'm freezing my balls off."

Eddie raised an eyebrow at his girlfriend of three months in the Hawkins High parking lot. Most of the sensible students went on inside when it was this cold, but his girl - who hated this place as much as he did - decided to stick it out with him outside until the bell rang and forced them in.

"Shut up, you know what I mean." Her eyes rolled and her teeth chattered.

He checked his watch - seven minutes before the bell - and took one last drag off his cigarette. He exhaled as he dropped the butt on the ground and put it out with a twist of his boot.

"Wanna go in?"

She shook her head and wrapped her arms around herself. Stubborn.

"C'mere, then." Eddie unbuttoned the massive black coat he'd bought the year before - now decorated with band buttons on the lapels - and held it open to her. Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Come on," he urged.

She looked at him suspiciously. Shit, was this weird? Was inviting your girl into a coat cocoon more of a six-month thing? And then she walked into him. He wrapped his arms and his coat around them both and felt her relax against him almost instantly. She slowly slid her arms around his middle and rested her head in the crook of his neck. Oh god, oh god, did she just nuzzle her cheek into him?!?

Eddie was glad she couldn't see the grin on his face. He tilted his head down and let his hair fall around his face so no one else could see it either. He leaned his cheek against her head and inhaled the scent of her, closing his eyes and wishing the bell would never ring so they could stay just like this forever.

What had George said the day he bought this coat? That he could fit five people in there?

Eddie was quite happy with just two.

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 10: WORKING FOR THE KNIFE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

He’d like to eat you. Curse of a girl. Could be the prettiest of his repertoire, he thinks. He remembers the shock on your face when you killed that curse in the forest — while something horrible rooted itself inside you, sheer terror from the rot you were capable of, disgust with yourself — his face was warm with affection. Or something twisted like that.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , unprotected sex, oral sex, fingering, impact play, alcohol, mentions of mild violence

ੈ✩ wc: 5.4k

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

February, 2010

The winter months had never been kind to Suguru. It was ironic, being born in February—he thought that he eventually wouldn’t mind the cold, because at least his birthday fell after all the important holidays. Shoko’s birthday, Satoru’s birthday, Christmas, New Year’s.

He didn’t care for his birthday the way that Satoru did. It was another day, always. Wake up, work, exorcise, swallow, sleep, repeat. He’s built for work and routine—broad shoulders, strong hands, tough mouth. Thick-skinned enough to handle swallowing the tragedies and sufferings of human nature. Satoru used to joke about him being akin to a Grim Reaper, swallowing hell’s leftovers instead of leading them to the underworld.

Both of them, myths as boys. One cursed with being impenetrable, and the other cursed with having to absorb everything.

Suguru had started kissing Satoru as a teenager to get the taste of curses out of his mouth. Now he had you as a palate cleanser too. He liked that you always tasted sweet to him, no matter what. He doesn’t kiss you like Satoru, who is always a little overeager, desperate to devour. Suguru kisses you slowly, savoring it until you realize that you’re the one begging. You’d gotten to his head like a drip of paint spreading through water—slow but absolute. Gradually feverish like Oxycontin releasing in the bloodstream.

He can’t sleep. His cock is throbbing, thinking of you. Thinking of Satoru in your mouth. 

He had ignored everyone’s requests to have an impromptu party like last year—he didn’t need to count down the exact minute he got a year older, didn’t care for the exact strike of midnight. But now, it’s his birthday, and it’s two in the morning, and he’s half-hard and frustrated while thinking about you. Pathetically so.

He’s never needy. Not the way Satoru is. But all the curses he’d swallowed on his mission today made him feel like he was fucking dying. He thought he’d gotten control of it, being able to mask the putrid taste with your mouth, with food. He’d spent half an hour over the toilet bowl before bed, his tongue tasting like vomit and sea salt. 

You would never taste it on him—he would ask in between making out. To you, he tasted like cigarettes and ginger candy. The kind he started sucking on so he wouldn’t get so sick from the curses, the kind that he’d steal from the konbini because Satoru liked them.

Suguru isn’t usually this restless, let alone bothered by cottonmouth. Weed didn’t satiate him tonight. It helped his dick harden for sure, making his insides feel gooey and warm just at the thought of being touched, but usually, it was also enough to get him to sleep. Despite this, he stares at the ceiling in frustration. Craving touch like a predator, if intimacy could be synonymous with a collision.

It’s why he ends up in front of your room now��knocking, just barely. After no immediate response, he’s impatient. 

Suguru rolls his eyes once he finds out your door is unlocked. You didn’t need to lock it since Satoru could warp, and he was more than positive that no one else was falling into your bed at night. Perhaps you left an invitation for him. Either that or you were naive and forgetful as could be. He’d have to tease you about it later. 

He slips into your bed, hands smoothing over the bare skin of your stomach, the silvery roughness of your scar. Remnants of a dead man. Suguru cringes whenever he thinks about it —how he thought you were dead along with Satoru. It always made his mouth taste like bile again.

You stir with a hum, which surprises him. Ever since the incident, you became a heavy sleeper —it was all that alcohol that Shoko would slip you. Indulging in vices that only she would. It wasn’t that Suguru didn’t approve of this the way Satoru did, but he noticed that you would act more like him. Moody. Less likely to take Satoru’s shit.

Suguru stares at you, half-tempted to wake you with his mouth in between your thighs, but he doesn’t, not yet. He only curls a finger at the nape of your neck and strokes your hair from root to tip, following along the shell of your ear. You move again, lip twitching. It entices him more than it should.

He licks a strip from your collarbone to your jaw, and you keen into his touch immediately. Curling towards him as if he were the sun. 

You blink awake slowly, a lazy smile spreading among your features as your eyes adjust to the dark. 

“Birthday boy.”

“Baby girl.”

You pretend to gag and he laughs.

“What do you want?”

“My present,” he says roughly, pulling you closer by the hips. “Missed you.”

“You saw me earlier.”

“I know,” he mumbles. “God, I sound like Satoru, don’t I?”

The mention of his name makes your cheeks warm. Suguru notices it immediately. 

“No one is as needy as Satoru,” you snort. “How’s it feel to be able to legally drink?”

He chuckles. As if that mattered when Shoko was getting contraband since they started at Jujutsu High.

“Great. I can finally pay for overpriced cocktails.”

 “Wait, I have your present. It’s kind of corny.”

“Yeah?” he grins. “Let me have it.”

“Close your eyes.”

He sits up and crosses his legs, closing his eyes as if in meditation. Nervously, you pick his gift out of your drawer and place it in his lap. When he opens his eyes, he unwraps the tissue paper, messily wrapped and covered in stickers, and sees a scrapbook.

“My disposable film photos developed,” you mumble. “They’re probably not as good as yours, but I thought I’d make a scrapbook of… you know, everything.”

Suguru turns the pages carefully. There are relics from last summer, before everything had gone to shit. Polaroids of him and Satoru lounging lazily in the grass, Satoru always blurred because he was always moving. There are more intimate moments of you in his t-shirt and boxers, the flush of your cheeks suggesting he or Satoru had taken surprise snapshots of you in your post-sex haze.

His throat feels dry.

“Happy birthday, Suguru.”

He puts the book down and leans in to kiss you. It’s gentle, feather-light, giving you goosebumps in a way that makes you realize it’s been a while since you've been touched so delicately.

“I love it,” he murmurs into your ear. “Can I get my other gift now?”

“What do you– oof!”

You always underestimate how big he is, how easy it is for him to overpower you. He has you on your back in seconds, smiling as he runs his warm hands on the bare skin of your waist. You let out a low, satisfied hum when he squeezes your lower back slightly, massaging it with his fingers. Your face warms at the visible bulge in his sweatpants.

To your surprise, he parts your legs, pulling off your panties immediately, and lowers his head. 

“Don’t you want me to–”

“Shh,” he whispers, shutting you up with a bite to your inner thigh. “Wanna eat you.”

You exhale as he rubs your clit in lazy circles. He doesn’t tongue you just yet—merely picking and prodding at your cunt with his fingers while he watches you squirm. He has much more patience than Satoru, intent on playing with you until you cry. 

“Suguru,” you whine.

Before you can make another complaint, his mouth latches onto your clit, tongue swirling tenderly at the bundle of nerves while his fingers sink into your cunt. He lets out a short laugh as he watches you try to hold back a moan. You taste like you’ve been waiting for him.

“So fucking soaked,” he murmurs, half-mad at the sight of your glistening pussy. You make a small noise of protest when he pulls his face away. He moves towards you, resting his head on your pillow before forcibly pulling your thighs onto his abdomen. 

“Can you not throw me around like I’m a ragdoll?”

“Sit on my face,” he demands, ignoring your comment.

“What?”

“C’mon. It’s my birthday,” he grins. 

“O-Okay,” you whisper, crawling until you’re hovering over his face. You often felt mortified in this position, always feeling too exposed. You’d only sit on Satoru’s face when the two of you were drunk.

You yelp when Suguru pulls your thighs down to each side of his head, immediately sucking on your clit. You whimper as he laps at your bud, his hands grabbing your ass and squeezing the flesh. His tongue keeps up a constant pressure and rhythm. You have to resist the urge to ride his face, but he seems to be encouraging you with the way he kneads your ass.

“Take off your top,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse. You oblige, stripping off your thin tank top. 

He groans when he sees you exposed, your nipples perky as you run your hands across them. You lean into his mouth, your legs shaking from the way he’s sucking you, from the way his eyes widen like moons as he watches you from below. 

“You look so good from here,” he slurs, cunt-drunk. His lips glisten pink even in the dark.

Your wet cunt throbs when you look down, seeing his black hair fan out like an angel underwater, eyes half-lidded in desperation. You can’t even react to his praises, your tongue numb and heavy in your mouth as he pushes his palms against your ass, encouraging you to grind on his face.

“Pull my hair,” he rasps. 

Your pussy drools all over him, but he takes it all, lapping up every drop of your arousal as he moans. You pull his hair and it feels like silk in your hands. 

It was all more sensitive from above, you didn’t know why. You could barely take it.

You cry out once his tongue rolls over your bud in a constant rhythm, his hand reaching into your cunt with fingers curled towards him. Your orgasm is overwhelming, has you clutching his hair so you don’t completely fall over. You groan at the overstimulation, on the verge of tears as Suguru clamps your thighs down against his shoulders so he can keep tasting you.

“T-too much!” you whimper.

He finally releases you, letting you lift your thigh to stumble onto your side. You whine again when he grabs you, forcing you to straddle him again. He groans as he lifts his hips. You feel him against your ass, his dick hard against it. 

“You want me on top?” 

“Yes,” he moans. He’s quick to pull off his sweatpants. You’ve never seen him like this — desperate, begging. The opposite of his usual calculated demeanor.

You hover over him, your cunt dripping. He wants to slam your thighs down with his hands, fill you to the brim himself, but he waits. Even after all this time, his size intimidates you. You touch yourself as you kiss his neck, reveling in the satisfied sounds he makes.

He pulls you onto him gently, playing with your clit before he coaxes himself into you. You moan at the same time—you wincing at his size, him groaning at your warmth. 

“Oh,” you gasp.

“Do you get this wet for Satoru?” he taunts.

You say nothing in response, only whining. 

“You’re almost tighter than him,” he mumbles, low enough that you can’t hear. You’re too busy caught up in rapture, pulling his hair the way he likes, ravished by his hands all over your thighs and up your bare stomach.

“Sugu,” you breathe, your body trembling at the sensitivity. He helps you through it, guiding your hips so that you roll against him smoothly as he moans. 

You’re so fucking warm. So tight around him. He almost feels like he’s dreaming as he bucks up into you, staring at you with a slack mouth. His eyes scan over your bouncing tits, the way your thighs tremble just slightly above him as you squeeze them, coaxing you to ride him even harder.

“Love this fucking pussy,” he growls. It makes your cheeks flush, too embarrassed to look at him, so you shut your eyes as you move your hips.

You ride him through his babbling, his moans. It’s unusual that he’s so vocal right now — Suguru is often more reserved with what comes out of his mouth during sex if it isn’t a grunt or praise. He’s never desperate like this, never whining the way Satoru does. Even when you feel yourself keening for him, you still suppose you have him in the palm of your hand.

You test this theory, pinning his hands above his hands just like the way he often does to you. He moans, jaw falling with his tongue lolling out of his mouth. He looks vulnerable, eyes unfocused. Pointed towards you, like he’s squinting at the stars. 

You try not to let the power get to your head. 

“Hit me,” he moans, his voice sounding drunk.

“What?”

“Hit me. Slap me. Just—do it.”

You grind against him slowly, blinking at him. You lower your hand to caress his jaw. His eyes are closed, his mouth still falling in surrender. Open and loose. After seconds of apprehension, you do it—it’s a small slap against his cheek, hard enough to hear, soft enough that it doesn’t leave a mark. He moans louder than you’ve ever heard him. 

“Oh, fuck—”

He brings his thumb to your clit as you ride him and it makes your bones loose. Melting within his grasp. You breathe heavily, watching him with wide eyes. 

Suguru grabs your hand and places it at the base of his throat. It’s then that you notice the large bruise below his collarbone, peeking slightly at the collar of his t-shirt. In the dark, you can’t tell the color—but in your field of vision, it looks purplish. 

You squeeze the base of his neck like he wants, and you see his eyes roll to the back of his head. You whimper as you bounce his cock, your tiredness catching up to you. You hadn’t been in a position of power during sex many times, especially not with Suguru. The thought of it makes your head spin, the expressions on his face making your cunt throb.

“So fucking good, baby,” he grovels. “Perfect girl.”

You hold him by the throat, your small hands incomparable to his body as a whole, but you apply pressure regardless. Fascinated by his expressions, by your ability to make him come undone in ways you hadn’t even imagined before.

“Harder,” he groans. “Make yourself cum on my cock.”

Even with his demanding tone, Suguru’s face appears otherwise. He’s flushed, mouth parting and trembling. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable.

“Oh,” you whimper. “Gonna—”

He holds you by the hips firmly, fucking up into you. Holds your hands, interlocking your fingers. When he cums at the same time as you, he has your fingers in his mouth, his teeth grazing your knuckles as he sucks on them with a muffled moan.

You fall onto him and he’s quick to let you nuzzle your face into his collarbone, rubbing your back gently. Eventually, you straddle him, tracing your fingers over the bruise under his collarbone.

“What’s this?” you breathe.

He looks down, chuckling. 

“Satoru’s gift,” he smirks. “I’ll give you a matching one.”

You let him nibble on your skin without protest, but something aches in your heart despite it all.

Suguru discards his shirt in the middle of the night. You don’t notice—at least, you aren’t awake for it. He’d had you passed out in his arms immediately the night before. 

When you finally open your eyes, he’s staring back at you. You nearly jolt out of your skin.

“Don’t do that,” you whine, hitting his shoulder lightly. “You’re like Satoru.” 

He doesn’t answer. Only laughs.

“Where are all these bruises from?” you mumble, touching them with your fingertips. 

“Satoru,” he says plainly. He doesn’t elaborate. Not even when you look at him with raised brows.

Suguru doesn’t feel the need to hide anything from you. Neither does Satoru, apparently, but he had barely been intimate with just you in the past two months. Suguru was always included, which you didn’t mind, considering your love for both of them, but you still craved tenderness. 

It’s the first time that it occurred to you that Satoru and Suguru were together separately from you. It was stupid—they’d kissed before you were even truly in the picture. Probably messed around, too. You didn’t have any deeper access to Satoru’s heart, even if you had known him as a child. You had to remind yourself of that.

But still, it felt odd to see the remnants of Satoru’s hunger on someone other than yourself. You liked to think of yourself as the mediator between them, the center of their universes, when you let yourself think more loosely, more confidently. 

But now, you’re small again. Separate from them.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks.

“Nothing.”

“Something.”

You smile warmly, running a hand through his hair. “Nothing.”

You’re not jealous. You can’t be. You would be annoyed by short quips from either of them during sex, teasing you about the other like it was a competition, but it was never serious. You were a plaything between the two of them, you knew this. You liked it.

But the prospect of the two of them together without you made your stomach hurt. It was almost as if the idea itself was to spite you—it made you feel endlessly guilty. You were so willing to be there, to be used by either of them, to be the favorite. How selfish it was that you hadn’t noticed that the boys had wanted each other, perhaps more than they even wanted you.

“You gonna ask us how often we fuck without you?”

“Suguru!”

He laughs, but it’s not out of spite. 

“Some of these are from sparring. You know how he likes to play.”

“Yeah,” you mutter. Embarrassment colors your features. He didn’t need to say it as if he was reassuring you.

“He wouldn’t let you be his punching bag,” he ruffles your hair. “You’re too precious.”

You can’t find it in yourself to believe him.

April, 2005

Suguru empties the remnants of the curse in the toilet. It's not the parts themselves, more like the ghost of the cadaver, his insides making themselves sick from the taste. He was still getting used to it. 

He coughs and wipes his mouth. Examines himself in the mirror, frowning, hair unkempt. His hair was getting long, down to his collarbone. The girls liked it a lot, which he didn’t understand —the length made him get greasy. They’d compare him to male idols, not that he cared. 

He washes his hands in Satoru’s fancy sink and moisturizes his hands with jasmine-scented lotion, the kind that his father would maybe gift his mother on a holiday. 

When he leaves the bathroom, he nearly collides with you. You mumble an apology, barely making eye contact with him. Did Satoru have a sister?

The two of you didn’t look alike, for starters. You didn’t have the same blinding-white hair as the rest of the Gojo family, plus Satoru probably would’ve mentioned a sibling. Suguru watches you leave, face warming slightly when he realizes he’s looking for too long. He curses under his breath when you notice, but you don’t look perturbed at all—you flash him a small smile. 

He returns the smile sheepishly and heads back to Satoru’s room.

“Who’s that girl?” he asks.

“Huh?” 

Satoru is barely paying attention. His eyes are fixed on his game, Final Fantasy.

“The girl downstairs. Our age.”

“Oh. She’s the maid’s daughter. Family friend. Kind of.”

Suguru sits on the floor next to Satoru, knees touching as they sit up against the foot of the bed. 

“You never mentioned her. She’s cute,” he remarks.

“Off limits.”

Suguru scoffs. “I didn’t even—”

“Seriously. She’s like… family.”

Satoru is lying through his teeth, jaw clenched only slightly. He nearly said sister instead of family, but that would be a hole that he was not willing to dig for himself. He pretends to blame his attitude on losing the game. Grimaces when he hears Suguru snicker beside him.

You must’ve been one of Satoru’s toys. Suguru knew the boy hated sharing. 

“So you’ve claimed her already.”

“Shut up.” Satoru throws the controller at him, huffing like a child. “I can’t fucking beat this guy. Try it.”

“That’s because you fucking suck,” Suguru laughs.

Satoru grumbles and folds his arms. He was always too candid in the face, terrible at hiding emotions, and everyone knew it. He liked that Suguru didn’t care to pry. He hated that Suguru was exactly the kind of guy that you would have a crush on. Soft-spoken but quick-witted, pretty in the face.

It didn’t matter, anyway. Satoru hadn’t had a real conversation with you in over a year. 

April, 2010

You are not a jealous person.

Satoru is talking to a girl who is much too close for comfort, and you are not a jealous person. Both are objective facts. Maybe.

For once, everyone is getting drunk somewhere that isn’t a Jujutsu Tech dorm room, but it was a shitty venue that wasn’t much better. Yuki played bass in a punk band, and the girls weren’t willing to go without you and the boys as chaperones. Despite this, Shoko and Utahime had fucked off during the first set, probably making out in the bathroom.

“Need a breather?” 

You spin around to see Suguru with his hair down, cigarette nested above his ear. You look back at Satoru, who is now being entertained by two more girls. 

“Yup,” you nod.

The night is moderately warm. The moon hangs above the velvet black, jagged like a piece of glass. Suguru wraps his arms around your middle, lighting the cigarette and bringing it to your mouth.

“Didn’t think you were the jealous type,” he says.

“What?” you frown, crooning your neck to face him.

“Oh, come on,” he teases. “I’ve never seen you make such hostile faces.”

“That’s just my face.”

“Sure.”

He kisses the top of your head. He pulls your hair and tips your head back so he can kiss your mouth, his lips upside-down against yours. 

“People give me looks when both of you kiss me within the same ten minutes,” you murmur. “Did you notice that?”

“No,” Suguru chuckles. “I’m usually too busy looking at you.”

You exhale smoke before putting the cigarette in Suguru’s mouth, peering at the moon again. He was bored. Considered taking you in the bathroom so he could spill inside of you, just for Satoru to find out when you’d sleep in his bed later tonight. There wasn’t a rivalry, not truly, but he liked knowing that it made Satoru tick. 

Satoru had started healing his bruises for him. They’d fight, rolling around on the floor before fucking it out. He would only let his Infinity through a handful of times, but always let it through when they fucked. Suguru knew that Satoru liked feeling the roughness of his hands on him. It made him feel alive. 

It’s all carnal. Instinct as desire. Satoru wouldn’t let you see that side of him. He thinks about when he came back to life and feels horrified, sick like he came back wrong. He was never sure if you were looking at him differently or if it was vice versa. Suguru always looked at him the same way. It’s a mutual understanding. 

Suguru looks at you that way, too. There’s something hungry in his eyes now, something that feels like an ultimatum. He grins at you with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

He’d like to eat you. Curse of a girl. Could be the prettiest of his repertoire, he thinks. He remembers the shock on your face when you killed that curse in the forest — while something horrible rooted itself inside you, sheer terror from the rot you were capable of, disgust with yourself — his face was warm with affection. Or something twisted like that. 

The way he scooped you into his arms, your fragile body all bloodied. Naive little thing. He’d held you as the two of you flew back on the manta ray and he had felt like he saw something he shouldn’t have. A turning moment. Not even Satoru would be able to make sense of it. 

“Wanna go back intside?” Suguru purrs into your ear.

You nod.

You take his hand in yours just as Yuki’s band is about to start. Satoru is exactly where he was before, but this time he’s staring at the both of you. You’re too busy watching the stage to notice. The lights flood over you in a way that makes you look like a heavenly body. You and Suguru had matching eyes tonight, black kohl smudged over your eyes by Shoko during the pregame. 

You feel a pair of small arms circle around your middle, the scent of tobacco and men’s Issey Miyake perfume filling your senses. Speak of the devil. 

You turn your head and Shoko grins, Utahime in tow behind her. You laugh when you see the lipstick smudges around Shoko’s mouth. 

“Have fun?” you ask.

“Huh?” she shouts.

“Never mind!” you yell back. 

Satoru watches from afar, trying to get his way through the crowd, but is bombarded by the sheer amount of people in his way. Everyone’s too drunk to care about politeness. His size wasn’t helping him either — no one was willing to let such a tall guy get in front of them. 

“You get our girl drunk yet?” Shoko asks Suguru.

He shakes his head. “She’s being responsible tonight.”

You giggle and stumble. Trying to move your body in a way that feels appropriate for a punk show. Shoko flashes a grin to Suguru.

“I think your girlfriend is lying to you,” she murmurs into his ear. “Where’s Satoru? Expanding Japan’s gene pool?”

“Shut up,” he mouths, laughing. Well, probably.

He didn’t know if Satoru was seeing other people. He didn’t care, but he knew that you would. It wasn’t something he felt like bringing up when he was alone with him, though. He trusted Satoru enough to not break your heart, but he knew that the boy was restless lately, almost manic. 

Satoru had made out with a girl who looked like you at a bar two weeks ago, then cried on the way home. Suguru almost found it pathetic. 

Suguru holds you again once Shoko busies herself with Utahime, the both of them thrashing and running toward the front of the crowd, close enough to touch the stage. He rests his head on top of yours, slips his large hands underneath your shirt just to feel the warm skin of your stomach. 

Satoru is a few feet away. His mouth is moving, but Suguru can’t figure out what he’s saying amongst all the fucking noise. He looks drunk. Something lurches inside Suguru when he sees a girl nearly hanging off of Satoru. 

He spins you around in his arms and presses his mouth to yours with more force than he intends. 

You succumb immediately — is it always that easy? It must be. You were arguably easy to the two of them. It was something Satoru liked talking about when they were in private without you, something to tease Suguru about when his hand was wrapped around his cock.

She’d be so good if she was here right now, wouldn’t she? So fucking wet… so warm.

Suguru sucks in your tongue and holds your face. He opens his eyes to lock them with Satoru’s — they’re blazing blue, almost brighter than the stage lights. 

Satoru laughs, though his eyes look mean.

May, 2010

You are nodding off in the courtyard when you feel a light kick to your thigh. When you open your eyes, Shoko is looking over at you, a lollipop in her mouth. It’s one that you had gifted her one day as a joke — “smoke stop pops.” She liked them anyway, the herb flavor weaning her need for nicotine while also replacing her random cravings for black tea. It didn’t actually curb her smoking habit, but it was a new oral fixation. She’d eaten three a day for the past week.

“It’s time for quality time,” she grins, the lollipop making her left cheek jut out.

“You’re taking me out on a date?” you question, blinking at her. If she moved a little to the right, she’d block the sun out completely. Unfortunately, it’s still bright beside her head. You squint at her.

“I will later, if you want. But Yaga wanted us to do a little… project together?” 

She lowers her hand and you take it. She pulls you to your feet and picks a leaf out of your hair. 

“Is that why they call you Twigs?” 

“What?”

“Never mind,” she snorts. “C’mon.”

Shoko takes you to a greenhouse that has a path leading through it. There are cherry blossoms and hakone grass, azaleas and bonsai trees. A koi fish pond with a small wooden bridge. 

“This is beautiful,” you say.

“It is,” she nods. “I used to come here a lot when I was a teenager. My old high school is pretty close to here.”

“Is Yaga-sensei forcing us to go on a date?”

“Okay, even if this was a date, you would’ve gone on it regardless, you ass,” Shoko laughs, pinching you on the side. “Anyways, this is more of an assignment. Or experiment, I guess.”

“What do you mean?”

She leads you to the little bridge and you gaze at the orange and black-speckled koi fish below. 

“Have you ever brought anything back to life?” Shoko asks. Her hands tremble ever so slightly until she reaches for one of her lollipops and puts it in her mouth. 

“Twice. The first time was when my kitten got hit by a car when I was a kid. The second was a bumblebee I killed. Just to see if I could do it.”

“You didn’t try it any other time?” 

You shake your head. 

“Okay, well, come outside with me.”

You follow her out back. There’s a plot of dirt with pots of small trees lining the square of land. She presents a few small plants stuck in their little pots, dehydrated as hell. Brown and drooping.

“You want me to… ‘heal’ these?”

“Your technique isn’t necessarily healing. And you can’t do reverse cursed technique like Satoru and I, but you can regenerate cells, right?”

You pause, staring at her, then your hands. Then the plants.

“I guess.”

“Great. So bring these plants back to life.”

You frown at her bluntness. You hate being put on the spot. To be honest, you hadn’t showcased the strongest output of your technique since the Star Plasma Vessel incident, and before that, the mission with Suguru. Every time you were in fight or flight mode, you’d pass out with a nosebleed. 

Bringing a plant back to life probably wasn’t a huge feat, but Shoko’s wording made you grimace.

You lift your hand and close your eyes. You touch the dead leaves and exhale, circumventing the energy inside you into something tangible, something to hold in your hands like a spiritual weapon. Within seconds, the plant straightens its leaves and turns green with solid stems. Leaves that extended past the bottom sprouts, which also rose from the dead roots.

When you open your eyes, you see Shoko smiling. 

Over the next week, you bring back small animals. Bugs and mice. Guinea pigs. Shoko nearly has you try it out on the little fetuses suspended in formaldehyde in her lab, but you refuse. 

You’d never thought about using your technique in this way. Since Riko died and Toji Fushiguro left a scar on your body, you felt weak. Your cursed energy would manifest enough power for you to fight, but using your actual technique would be exhausting. Like a muscle, it was finally beginning to strengthen again, and at a rapid rate.

When you’re walking home from an easy mission, you find a stray cat that limps with only three legs. You feed it milk from the konbini. When you hover your hand over it, it heals. Regenerates another limb that looks like it was always there.

Your cell phone rings at the same time you open your eyes.

“Hello?”

“Are you almost back?” Shoko asks. “Yaga-sensei wants to talk to you.”

[mochilatae]

Cherry (Jungkook x Reader)

Word Count: 6.86k

Pairing: Jungkook x Y/n (Reader)

Rating: 18+/Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Semi-public/public play, hand jobs, orgasms (his), kissing sucking, biting/nibbling, sexy/dirty talk, flirting, early relationship jitters, gentle teasing/scolding, coaxing/seduction, lightly pushy Jungkook, alcohol consumption.

Genre: PwP, Friends to Lovers/Roommates to Lovers

AUs: Roommate BTS/Roommate Jungkook

Summary: You've had a rough day and you decide to stop at a bar on the way home to unwind. Your roommate meets you there and a bad day turns better from there when he gives you an unexpected first.

Author’s Note: It's been a long time since I wrote about Jungkook, let alone Roommate Jungkook. I missed him so I decided to drum up a little action.

Please ignore any typos and just enjoy.

Thank you for reading. If you liked it and feel like leaving a comment, I'd love to hear! Reblogging is always appreciated but not required.

Tag List: @askkrisachan @kiestrokes

You settled into the booth, sinking into the plush cushion. There was no disputing: it was much nicer to be inside, away from the light rain falling steadily outside. The day hadn’t started that way, but city weather was misleading like that.

10 hours ago your optimism was much higher, especially seeing the golden beauty of the morning sun from the bathroom window. Everything about the day seemed MUCH more promising earlier. From there it proved a slow plod towards disappointment as the cloud cover increased hour by hour.

You should learn to be more practical, the reminder coming as you stared into the depths of your drink, elbows braced on the table. As you chased a cherry bobbing on the surface of the drink with the tip of the straw tucked between your lips your mood dipped.

In spite of the day, you DID have something to look forward to–something that came with the opening of the bar door. Footsteps crossed the threshold and shook off droplets of rain. Hair shook next, followed by shoulders as the voices around you lulled into a brief silence.

There were probably enough people looking at whomever came through the door, but you didn’t. That was the last thing you felt like doing. Your head stayed down just enough, focusing on the reddish hued depths of the glass contents. 

The bell over the door chimed faintly when it shut behind the newcomer. Finally you looked up, taking in the figure there. 

And his eyes found you right away. The smile came with a flash of teeth. Damp bangs splayed over a blemish free forehead until a backwards flick cleared it all. It was such a quick action but still looked effortless.

Graceful as hell. Familiar, too. Deep down you knew–you expected this. There was something to be said about pretending you didn't, though...

As the man closed the distance, coming your way with a purposeful stride, you straightened in the booth seat with shoulders pressed into the seat back in unconscious preparation.  

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this..” You finally said, even IF your belly was riddled with butterflies. Every one aflutter from the laser focused stare of your roommate. 

That word couldn’t contain what he was to you. What he’d become. It was the tip of the iceberg. He’s more than just a body paying the other half of the rent. Very much not like you pictured for yourself even a year ago.

Certainly not when you’d signed that signature line at the end of the too-many paged contract. 

Instead of feeling anxiety knitted with dreadful tension seeing Jungkook, you felt warm. Relaxed. Weak and wobbly deep inside. A welcome change you still hadn’t quite gotten used to. 

“I can’t believe how good you look.” Jungkook’s grin widened as he stood at the table. His shape did a great job of blocking your view of everything, and all he did was be himself–broad and handsome. If not a little…cocky still. 

You’d forgotten how much better Jungkook looked wet. It probably surpassed his visuals dry and donning a fitted pair of jeans. Or like now, in tailored slacks—the newest edition to his wardrobe thanks to a new job in a local office downtown. 

Jungkook hadn’t trended towards dressing business casual (or beyond) before, but that’s what a well paying job could do to a stubborn mind. The other side effect was more personal in nature:  you, struggling even more to keep eyes off him.

He didn’t complain so much anymore. Apparently messing with your focus and monopolizing your attention proved a fair trade for the agony this new forced fashion for 40 hours of his week. 

Jungkook stared down at you, his grin uneven. You couldn’t suss out why he stood there so long. Back to the excitement of telling yourself you'd never be the type to 'pretend' stuff--like stranger meetups.

And yet...

Eventually the silence piled on, bringing your gaze up until you met those beautiful, dark eyes. Black as night at the center, in this modest lighting, but with a sparkle just visible. Jungkook widened his shoulders and shot you a wink. 

“Of all the bars in all the city–” He grinned. 

You pulled the glass closer, taking another mouthful and almost gagging from the overwhelming alcohol taste dominating everything. The ‘Nightly Special’ section of the menu had been hard to really read, not that you’d sat down with patience or focus. You saw the word cherry. A flavor you liked and it would do but now came the debt: the slow crawl of realization that this was why you’d scaled back drinking to a rare-if-ever type of thing. 

Wearing a scowl, you smacked your lips. Jungkook titled his head, brow arched.

“...What’s the poison?”  

“A bellini.” You coughed into the back of your hand. “Don’t start. I needed it.” 

Not a moment later you motioned to your right side, shifting enough, assuming Jungkook would have plenty of space. He didn’t bother shedding the long overcoat as he took the offer and settled in. Then slid even closer until your sides touched. You surmised that was exactly what he’d wanted based on his unabashed hum of pleasure. 

“Seriously.” Jungkook started anew, voice lower and huskier. Hot breath tickled along your jaw as he nosed below that nearer ear. It was a most sensitive spot and one of his favorites since he found out what it did to you. 

Points for his earnestness, even buried underneath a blatant desire. Jungkook didn’t hide his feelings. Especially now that you both agreed to pursue a serious relationship. 

Gulping, you kept eyes trained on the Exit sign over the door and the red X, now faintly blinking.

“..Y/n.. No bullshit. You DO look good.” He murmured more softly. Silky heat grazed your lobe. His feigned pleading of this case had to be strictly for enjoyment. Anyone here would believe him from the jump. There wasn’t a shred of denial in you either. Your changed dynamic meant no more denial.  

A moment later goosebumps rose and ran down your neck in a straight shot, heading for that nipple.  

“Good.” You mimicked. Could you sound weaker? Your voice shivered like tree limbs battered by hurricane force wind. Jungkook had to have caught it. This was the kind of thing he lived to achieve.

If it wasn’t facing the entire place, you would be more than happy to free the whine stuck tight in your throat.

The next swallow of liquor went down easier, sending more fumes through your nostrils and right to your brain. This kind of thing happening was a risk, but you also knew it would help you relax. 

Jungkook aligned against your side like a second skin helped just as much, if not more. 

His touch always felt ‘right’. No one could replicate the way this man meshed with you. It wasn’t like you’d wanted anyone else to try, having become monogamous with Jungkook within the last few months. 

No longer just roommates, you’d officially traded status up to lovers. Boyfriend and girlfriend. This relationship thing was nice actually owning the label. You hadn’t appreciated how much effort had gone into suppressing the acceptance or enjoyment.

“Yeah?” You stole a quick glimpse sideways to find Jungkook A LOT closer, and even cuter with his wrinkled nose. He nodded. 

“100 percent.” His lids fell, stare unabashedly dreamy. 

As you gave in and leaned into his side, Jungkook slid his nearer arm along the back of the booth,then draped it over your shoulders. When he pulled you close, you took a deep breath and had the bonus of another pleasing hint of his clean, fresh scent. Rain kissed, above all else.

“This whole...pretend to be strangers meeting at the bar... It's new to me. Want something to drink?” You asked, the bell over the door ringing when it opened, then closed again. You would be ashamed to admit you had no idea how much time slipped by tucked under Jungkook’s muscular arm. 

It was like he’d moved a muscle either, more than happy to keep you close. For his effort, Jungkook was also acting a little too comfortable and touchy for strangers--unless he was just willing to be that bold if you hadn't known each other. He wasn't a very good actor...

“I’m good.” He replied.

A dimly lit pair of bodies passed, heading for the dance floor at the far end of the room. There, on the modest stage, a live band was finishing their setup. You weren’t a big fan of live music, but you knew who was..

..And he was sitting right next to you. 

“Is it open mic night?” Jungkook watched the bodies pass, then spoke, words riddled with interest. If it involved a chance to sing or show off in public, he was down. VERY not how you were, but not a deal breaker. 

You admired how it seemed Jungkook lacked a single particle of self consciousness in his whole body. He seemed to love putting on a show, especially if you were watching. Now that you understood better, it was a treat to see him showboating. Especially with purer motivations: less jealousy and revenge, more desire and pride driving him to draw your eyes.   

It was hard to believe you ever found it unappealing. Those moments seemed like a lifetime ago. And almost…embarrassing if you tracked through them again. Now was much more comfortable and pleasing, so you tried to keep yourself here. 

Jungkook loved attention and you loved when he sang. You’d call that a win-win normally, but tonight you weren’t quite in that place. There was a distant tension in your limbs and chest. The type you just wanted gone sooner rather than later.

“Looks like it. Not sure how I missed that. It’s going to get noisy soon. We should go..” You replied. 

It was only getting later. With Jungkook to walk you home, skirting the rain outside for the few blocks between here and the apartment didn’t seem so daunting. After all, wasn’t that one of the reasons you’d texted him to meet you here?  

Jungkook sighed. “Too bad. Haven’t gotten to sing for you in a while.” Disappointment bent Jungkook’s lips into an adorable pout. You didn’t need to look. 

A huff punctuated his disappointment. You couldn’t begrudge him the joy of performing. He was born for it. For now he tempered things with a brief smile. 

“Stop..” In spite of his tame reaction you gently prodded his side with one elbow, earning his grunt. 

He squeezed your shoulders more firmly. “YOU stop. You know I’m ticklish there.” 

“Are you?” You feigned surprise then squirmed when a few fingers wormed towards your armpit with an easy shift of his wrapped arm. You barely twisted out of reach. 

“Alright..” You whined. He was just too determined and you weren’t that good tonight. Jungkook, ever relentless and you ever underestimating–a winning combination. 

Seconds later he tugged you towards one end of the booth, inching his way out. On the move, he glanced towards the dancefloor. The figures you’d seen walk by were melting together as the first strains of a suave beat started, the guitar joining with a few plucked notes that became a full bodied song. One you hadn’t heard before, but it had your hips shifting faintly. 

“Wanna?” Jungkook threw a grin back, along with his head, eyeing you. He was a good dancer. Comfortable in his body AND knew how to control every muscle. To move every bit of himself for maximum effect. The stakes were high: falling into that trap meant you’d overstay and burn through your remaining energy. 

“A man of few words.” You teased. “Wanna….what?” 

“Dance.” Jungkook’s eyes rolled as he answered wearily.   

“My feet hurt.” The first of many excuses, by rote. 

Except tonight the idea of swaying with this tight body pressed close, in the balmy dark wasn’t such an off putting suggestion. You already noted that pleasant fullness between the hips that said the ache wasn’t from a long day on your feet, or racing back and forth across the office.

It was more the gnawing hunger for Jungkook. Freeing all your true feelings by agreeing to be together officially made your visceral reactions more potent. And more frequent without the usual hurdles or walls to surpass. Every single twinge of need could flow freely. 

A hint of warmth was already blooming in your folds. Jungkook’s eyes left yours and openly perused south, like he could see the thermal differences across your body. Like you were telling on yourself in ways you couldn’t begin to perceive.  

“I’m sure they do, but dance with me.” This time his smile was warmer. One palm rested in the small of your back, waiting for the word, to give that subtle pressure. To move you –and things– forward, to his desired destination: that shadowed dancefloor. 

“Jungkook–”

“Just one song. I won’t sing, either.” THAT was a big give on his part. You snorted and Jungkook’s stare narrowed. “That’s a big deal. The kind that doesn’t come along very often, Y/n. Let's spin around for a song. One song.” 

To pull the shimmering, doe eyed look from his arsenal was unfair. Rotten as hell and sneaky. Instead of maliciousness and deceit, you saw a flash of playfulness in those tawny depths, and further down, a roiling tension building. 

Exactly like it was inside you. You grunted and twisted against his hold. 

Once Jungkook was out of the booth and upright, he extended a hand again, palm up and waiting. Any reminding will or concern sank into the abyss seeing him towering over you like this. And wearing such a purposefully handsome grin. You knew he reserved that for particularly challenging situations requiring careful negotiation. 

“I won’t even take off my coat.”

That added another level of enticement. No coat off meant he’d be a bit too warm and unlikely to want to work up a good sweat here. It was a pretty good guarantee he’d stick to his word and you’d be out the door after. 

Your hand slid into his and Jungkook pulled you to your feet. He didn’t check as he backed towards the dancefloor and the music. Jungkook didn’t need to. Luck and grace were on his side. 

He was a smooth bastard who never seemed to check where he might be headed–like he always knew. Almost like he was that magical and ‘good’. Every move, clandestine and serendipitous. Born blessed and knowing exactly the hand he was dealt with his latent charm.

“No dirty dancing.” You warned, cheeks rushing with warmth. You fell against his front as he chuckled but it faded into the music overlapping as you stopped at the edge of the dance floor. One arm slid around the small of your back, pulling your hips snug against his own. The thick material of his overcoat was just roughened enough it tickled your suddenly overly sensitive flesh, but you didn’t mind.

You never minded with Jungkook.  

He managed a dimpled grin as he replied “I promise.”

--------------------------------------------------------

You couldn't keep your eyes off Jungkook as you both waited at the curb. He looked so good, blissfully unaware with his stare focused on the toes of his dress shoes. Like everything else exposed to the rain, they carried a shine in the street light. 

It could be worse, you conceded silently. At least the heaviest rain had passed, leaving a fairly light mist.

The world looked almost plastic, the way the water left a glossy layer over everything that wasn’t moving. Even the streets were slick, black coated in reflected wetness that drew every hint of light and turned it into a pearlescence. 

It was beautiful, but a chill was building. Enough to rue leaving your coat at work and falling into the illusion of the bar’s warmth. You were paying for it now. 

Jungkook glanced over at you, tucking his phone into his coat pocket. When he scoffed, it left his lips in a curling puff of hot air. 

“What?” 

“What are you looking at?” 

Jungkook looked down again. You did too, noticing the shiny circle of light reflected on the tips of both dress shoes. 

“These aren’t too bad looking. …Hurt like hell after 8 plus hours walking around in these things, but they LOOKED good today.” 

“Yeah.” You agreed. “Hopefully the rain won’t ruin them.” 

“Not like I’m going through puddles.” He sounded disappointed, again. There was such a pureness about it that you couldn’t help a grin. When you snorted, he snorted. 

When you stepped closer, Jungkook looked over. His arm moved and he opened that side of the coat, like a big fabric wing. Offering warmth and pure darkness. But most of all–the promise of comfort. Escape from that increasing chill as the build of moisture on your naked skin only heightened awareness.

You ducked into the available space offered with a mumbled ‘Thanks’. His arm came down and he kept you there. Inside his coat it was Jungkook scented heaven: comfortable temperature with pure Jungkook scent bathing the entire space. 

Neither of you spoke as you stood, mutually staring out to the street and vague shapes of cars, end to end, on the opposite side of the road. It was impressive that the only empty space was right in front of the bar doors, in the pickup and drop off zone.

Finally you broke the silence.

“How long did you say the Lyft would take?” 

Jungkook took that as an excuse to do what he’d just done a second ago: take his phone out and check it. The app was still open on his screen. You couldn’t tell much from his quick peek before he pocketed the phone again. 

“15 minutes.” 

“Why so long..” You sighed. “It’s not getting warmer.” 

“You want my coat? I’m good without it. The dancing warmed me up.” Whether or not he was being nice and lying to alleviate any concern you might have for his comfort in favor of your own, you couldn’t be sure.

It was a quick debate in your mind, then you replied “No..I couldn’t.” 

“You just said you were cold–” Jungkook began, confused. 

“Not exactly. I just said it wasn’t getting any warmer.” 

“Right. Big difference.” Jungkook’s chest rumbled. A car drove by, the tires splashing through a few errant puddles in the road. Water hissed as it jetted away from the rubber rolling through, then the sound faded as the car disappeared into the distance. 

“It just feels like that’s a little longer than normal.” You continued. 

“It’s approaching peak hours, Y/n.” 

You’d forgotten. This time of the week and night it WAS busier for Uber and Lyfts around town. Cabs fared no better, at least at this end of the city. Upon this revelation, you slumped against Jungkook again. 

You dare not risk going back into that bar to keep warm. The band was really getting into it and you saw how much Jungkook was enjoying dancing with you. He wasn’t going to be able to control himself if he heard and saw the crowd that had started to filter in when you both slipped away from the dancefloor.

Onto the next concern. “What do we do until they get here, then?” 

You only figured out why you weren’t getting an answer when you looked at Jungkook to find his stare on you. Surprisingly heavy and telling–he was…hungry looking. Your brows rose. 

“Koo..” You began, adding a poke with one finger into the center of his chest, where it was indecently firm. He didn’t move an inch, except to turn into your prodding, head tilting down. Eyes fixing on your more intently. 

“Hmm?” His other arm swung away from his body and he wrapped the other half of his coat around you, enfolding you in the two wide ‘wings’ of his coat’s inner lining. It was even warmer. The sensation was like a warm bath, except for the thrum of a heartbeat in that muscled chest pressing your own. 

“What are you doing? You didn’t answer me.” 

“I know.” He was silent again and you waited. Finally he continued. “I have an idea of what we could do. Plenty of time..” 

Your brows didn’t lower just yet. You stared into Jungkook’s heated gaze, curious and mostly emotionally blank. At this point it was only pure curiosity driving you. 

Jungkook’s stare shifted to the side and you followed it. He seemed to be looking towards the darkness between the building and an adjacent one next to it with only a narrow alley between the two brick structures. 

“The..alley?” You ventured, earning a nod from him. You laughed this time, hearing how it rang out into the night, unbothered if anyone was around to hear it. You hadn’t seen or heard anyone for quite a while, until the car that drove by minutes before. “You're…kidding, right?” 

Jungkook was back to staring in your eyes. Unsmiling, his lips still plump and inviting, especially parting a little to reply. 

“Yes. It’s private.” 

“It’s outside, in public.”

“It’s dark. No one will see.” 

“What—I..”

You took another look at the darkness between the two tall shapes, then blinked and tried to pull back. Jungkook’s arms stayed wrapped. His hands clasped each other, level with the middle of your back. He brought you close again. 

“Plenty of time. And it’s dark. Come on. We’ll be quick.” Jungkook’s voice was low. Almost conspiratorial, each syllable rolling off his lips with wisps of steam. To think he was almost burning up, from the inside out, for you?

That was going to end you. Both of you might not make it to the apartment if this kept up.  

“Quick?” You whined. While confusion gripped your mind, your body was a different story. It knew the pressure of his fingertips feeling along your skin. Cradling your hips, then bringing you along as he backed away from the curb. You staggered to keep up with each retreating step. 

He stopped at the entrance of the alley mouth. Once again Jungkook moved like he was ever sure, never sparing a single glance back to check. Like he’d done heading for the dancefloor. 

It seemed far-fetched, but you wondered if Jungkook had done some kind of recon, in all the times you both walked by here, while you talked and he listened. Or appeared to. He hadn’t spoken and that meant he had more than enough time to notice things like this alley. It did something to you deep inside to imagine him thinking about this for that long, waiting for this moment, then finally executing it. 

The thin blouse fabric did nothing to combat the chill when Jungkook turned you, then walked your back right into the brick wall. He followed, chest pressing and touched his forehead to yours. 

His palms pressed the wall as he let the coat hang, keeping a cocoon of warmth around your body. Underneath the ache, you were grateful, if not a little surprised. Jungkook’s belly rolled into you and your thighs slacked wider, feeling menacingly weak. 

“Kiss me, Y/n.” Even though he asked you, he made the move, joining with your lips to create the perfect seal. His tongue slipped past your lips, writhing a little as your hips did the same. 

He returned your moan with his own, sending heat over your cheeks with his exhale. Jungkook’s head cocked the other way and he kissed you again, hips grinding a little harder. That firmness over your mound wasn’t apartment keys. 

On every level you knew that shape–most especially at your center, the apex of both thighs, where the most heat and the most pulsation was building. You needed what it promised and swore you’d die when Jungkook spiraled himself slower and harder. Although your eyes rolled, you managed to keep them open, barely watching the other building’s exterior wall across the way. 

You were trapped but loving it with sensation washing over you. All nerves craved Jungkook. Soaked up his touch. His scent. His sounds. But you found yourself listening for footsteps or tires slicing through the waterlogged potholes out in the street.

The fear of being caught was a good deterrent normally, but tonight the danger clamped you so tight there wasn’t room for sensibility or much thought. 

When this kiss broke, your head went back, touching the wall. The scored brick surface scraped along your scalp but you were almost numb to it as he worked down your neck, to the top blouse button.

A single twist of his fingers popped it open and he kissed exposed skin.

Two more buttons came free and kisses spilled down further. He wasn’t neat about it, leaving wet shapes on the skin he found, inch by inch.

Jungkook returned to the front of your neck and you could feel the way he smiled as he spoke to the long line running from the base to just below your chin. Uncharacteristically quiet.

For someone who didn’t care about public stuff as a standard, it was delightfully curious how he was suddenly so interested in vocal discretion. But you knew: this was part of his game—the mental trickery that he employed now and then.

Another thing he’d discovered that you enjoyed far more than you probably should.  

Wiggling, your palms braced his chest. Jungkook continued to work on your neck, adding a nibble, tugging skin and kissing after it slipped free. Delight stabbed right into your pussy each time. You loved that Jungkook knew exactly what he was doing. 

“Koo..” A shudder rattled your entire body. 

Jungkook’s head stayed low as he kissed the shape of a breast through the top. Although it wasn’t skin contact, your nipple responded the same, tightening at the suggestion and memory of wet suction. Just a little ghosted pressure sent tight heat through your folds. 

“Hmm?” His kisses came back up the other side of your neck and stopped under your jaw. Damp strands of his hair stuck against your skin, the lingering scent of his shampoo rising to your senses. 

“What is it, baby? Don’t like it?” When he wanted to, Jungkook could tease even better with words than fingers or lips.

“You know I do..” You grunted. “You’re…serious about this?” 

Jungkook nodded. Several of his fingers curled against the dark brick bracing your back. Unlike you, his face showed no sign that he minded the cold or discomfort of brick.

Red bits crumbled under his dragging nails, tumbling down the wall when one hand clenched to a decent sized fist.

“Touch me, Y/n. Just for a little bit. Let’s have some fun… Keep warm.” His nose slipped by your cheek again as he hummed

You whined, but your hand moved on its own, slipping down from his chest. Fingers brushed the button at his waist. When they tugged, Jungkook’s hips chased, rutting into you. The button popped open easily enough. You shoved that hand down into the hot darkness, palm shamelessly full of Jungkook’s girthy, hard cock. 

Jungkook’s head lolled backwards and the fingers on his other hand trembled, then splayed flatter. It was like he was trying to hold onto the wall AND sanity for dear life. That thrilled you enough to loosen a mewl.

“Like this?” You gasped, burying your face against his neck. The tight lines of muscle shifted as he nodded but otherwise stayed as still as he could. Occasionally his pelvis ticked into your touch.

Another growl exploded after a moment, when the base of your palm brushed against the underside of his tip. 

“Y/n..” He hissed. Hot breath wafted across your scalp as Jungkook tucked nose and lips onto the dampened chaos there.

“Fuck..feels so good.. Please.” The building earnesty at the end of his statement made you weak. 

You groped. It wasn’t long, standing there against the wall, that the tide turned inside you. Chill melted away and a roaring heat took over, passing over every inch of your skin.

Your fingers circled the thick center of that cock that belonged to you–as far as you were concerned. 

And Jungkook seemed to share that sentiment, kissing your part with a low moan. More hip rolls pushed him firmer into the cradle of your palm. The you from hours ago would never believe your future self if you’d try to warn that you’d be here. Doing this. In the alley outside a favorite local spot. 

Soon it was slippery as the precum seeping from Jungkook’s tip slid along your wrist with each stroke. He pushed particularly hard every few pumps. Everything was frictionless and gooey, and you didn’t want to stop, but your mouth watered at the desire to pull your palm out and give a long lick to taste. 

You found your own belly tight and your thighs shook as you finally gave in and moaned in response. Jungkook’s profile turned and he moved down, letting his mouth rest at the shell of your ear. 

Still, his hips undulated against you. Every nudge had your pussy aching more and more.

“God I want you..” 

Your blood boiled. Whatever was building inside was about to spill over. Either from your lips or your pussy–it was a neck and neck race. Words were bottle necked behind your clamped lips and slick the same when you hitched a knee and brought that calf around the back of Jungkook’s thigh. 

His chest rumbled with a laugh. It creaked at the end, with another low growl. He drew your earlobe between his lips and nibbled, then sucked. Your eyes went heavy. You clamped around nothing, dying at how empty you felt, even if your hand was overflowing with pulsing, silky flesh.

Even the sound of laughter somewhere beyond the mouth of the alley didn’t register much now. It was just you, panting into the balmy blackness of Jungkook’s coat lining. Sucking in his scent, mouthfuls at a time, and whining every time he fucked your tightening grip. 

The way his cock slid through your grasp, you knew it’d sound so wet if you were back at the apartment, with him splayed on the bed, tongues twisting along each other and moans rising in the dimly lit space. 

You could almost recall the faint creak of the bed–no doubt it’d happen with every body roll. Jungkook’s fantastic ass leaving the bed as he fucked up into your hand. Or maybe your mouth, head kicked back and arms splayed wide, fisting pillows or sheets, bare chested, nipples glossy from your lips. 

Your own tingling between his fingers as he tugged. Groaned. Begged for a breast over his mouth so he could eat you alive. 

But the reality brought you back as a car sped by, tires hissing as they rolled through puddles just across the way. You didn’t look up, unphased. 

“Y/n..” Jungkook gasped, then drew in a breath, holding it. His chest puffed against yours. Your head came up. 

“Hmm?” You could barely open your eyes, mound burning with an unholy ache. You swore the tip of your finger was on that large vein running straight up the underside of his cock. And it was full of blood, keeping that organ primed for whatever else it might need to fuck.

“I’m close, baby..” He grinned, the shine from the nearby street lights flashing across his teeth. 

You nodded, then raised your chin. “Kiss me..” Your turn to demand. Wasn’t Jungkook always telling you he liked it when you were a little greedy and demanding? He wasn’t shy in telling you how he felt you could do that kind of thing a little more. 

The plump, sweet lines of Jungkook’s mouth connected to yours as he dropped his head down again, aligning his face perfectly to yours. As you kissed again, even deeper than before, your hand sped up, squeezing him tighter. Almost strangling his shaft. He whimpered and gave a few hard pumps. Suddenly he was shaking. 

He broke the kiss quickly. The energy was right there at the crest, filling him to the brim–even the ends of his bangs shivering. 

You loved that his eyes were screwed shut so tight. Whatever height he was at, the fall was going to be glorious. You recognized it from all those times he’d been inside you, ready to blow. 

Jungkook’s tongue lashed across his lips, then they fell open wider. His throat flexed as it forced out another whine–higher pitched. Desperate. 

“Don’t stop..” You hadn’t planned to, laying the side of your face against his chest. Inside the galloping thud of his heart was so big. So alive. Like a wild stallion racing across the plain.

One thing about him: that wild, untamed way about this man was something you hoped he held onto forever. Even if you’d domesticated him just enough to keep him by your side. 

Jungkook’s hips jerked a handful of times. Your name slipped from his lips in a confused sigh, then warmth wetness spurted along your forearm and ran down. Along your palm and fingers. Down along his shaft.

By the time it was over, there was no denying: there’d be an amazing, undeniable wet spot at the front of his pants. 

And so be it–he’d done it enough times to YOU. Basically he was owed this, if you looked at it the right way. 

Jungkook’s tight body relaxed against you, pinning your hand between his groin and yours. For a moment it didn’t really matter. 

When a few droplets splashed onto the top of your head, bringing a stark coldness, your eyes fluttered open. You shrugged a little against Jungkook and finally his head came back up. He was staring into your eyes, but you could see he was long gone for the moment.

“You’re a bad girl..” A lopsided, fucked out grin painted his face. 

Your brows lowered and you scoffed. If you’d been stronger you’d have pushed him back a little and swatted that chest. Wake him from his dopey state for that little dig. Instead you snorted, head tilting carefully to the side. It was enough effort to ignore the roughness of the brick wall rumpling your hair.

You arched a brow.

“You like bad girls. At least that’s what I heard..” 

Jungkook tucked a kiss just under the apple of your cheek, then he leaned away enough to push his hand down and lay it over yours. Fingers laced with each coated digit as if he didn’t care at all. That was hot in a whole different way–enough to remind you how unsatiated you still felt. 

He brought your hand back out and barely glanced before letting it fall, then he backed up a few steps, into a slice of headlight sweeping across the alley mouth as another car passed by. He also didn’t seem to care about that.

With a flippant toss of his bangs, Jungkook grinned again. 

That couldn’t just be the rain shining all over his face and neck. There wasn’t anyone in the world who looked so good roughed up by a quickie–nevermind the nagging specifics of what KIND of quickie it could be. 

Jungkook tugged the zipper back up in a quick motion, then redid the button. 

You leaned upright, stepping away from the wall too. Just by the way your hair fell, you knew it was a good mess, but kept yourself from feeling and ‘fixing’. Instead you watch Jungkook. And he looked you in the eyes now, tugging his coat back evenly over both shoulders and smoothing the lapels.

“Our ride should be here..” To be so casual–if it wasn’t for the cheshire smile you’d have kicked his shin. Or grabbed a half brick laying nearby and lobbed it hard for the space between his perfect brows.

But there wasn’t shame from having done this with him. Instead, when Jungkook pulled you close, it was another rush of arousal. Unquenched desire. Gnawing pain that centered right between your thighs. 

Jungkook’s open palm slid across your mound and a pleased thrum bubbled up. 

“You’re so warm, Y/n. I like how daring you are. Is that my influence or have you just been sitting on this and saving it for when we agreed to get serious?” 

“Koo–” You began, groping for his wrist. You held so hard he stopped completely for a moment. Even though he glowered down here in the alley, you knew it wasn’t anger or annoyance. It was the same arousal you felt. No doubt in your mind. 

“Y/n.” He parroted your scolding tone, wearing the hottest smirk you’d ever seen from him. And that was saying A LOT. He’d managed MANY hot smirks in the time you’d known him.

Your grip pulsed and your eyes softened.  “What about me?” You tugged faintly, lower lip jutting a little. 

“Mmmnn… I’ll take care of you when we get home. I promise. That you did this…Y/n I can’t tell you what it does to me.” 

“I can. It’s all over my wrist and hand.” You chuckled, nodding down at your tacky palm, then tucking it along your side.

Jungkook snickered. 

“Doesn’t mean I’m done. A couple minutes until the Lyft gets here. Won’t be a long drive home. That’s enough time to get my second wind.” 

“You know we COULD walk and save the money. Someone told me it’s peak hours.” 

“Right, but then we’d lose the time off our feet. Time that I have plans on occupying.” 

“In the Lyft?”

His scandalousness knew no bounds. But you also knew he had limits.

Jungkook shrugged, behind a cheeky smirk. “Not what we did here.”

“Thank god..” You sighed, eyes rolling. “I was starting to worry..” 

After looking you over, then himself, Jungkook turned. Using your grip on him, he pulled you along to the alley mouth and paused to lean out. He glanced left then right, and you did the same from over one shoulder. It felt like the safest place–just in case.

It was insane to worry that you’d come out to an audience and applause. Or even giggling questions and a cop with a ticket book, ready to give you a public indecency ticket. All the same, relief had you a little light headed.

Common sense and anxiety were back as expected, along with the creeping cold. Now the sweat on your skin was working against you–with the help of the still dropping evening temperature.

“Maybe a little heavy petting…” Jungkook finished his thought. Your bug eyed star met his back as he stepped out completely. You followed, keeping up decently.

You hadn’t actually had sex but it was impressive how he made your legs feel like rubber. That didn’t bode well for what your condition would be back at the apartment, in a few hours. Or tomorrow morning. 

“Jungkook.. You can’t do that kind of thing in a Lyft.” 

“Why not?” He eyed you over one shoulder as you stopped at the curb, not quite where you’d both waited before. This time his skin was faintly steaming and it was downright magical. Along with his rakish smile, Jungkook made the moment feel like a fever sex dream that was about to get VERY good. 

“I can’t believe—” You started to wind up until Jungkook brought your hand to his mouth and his lips pressed one knuckle. 

“I wasn’t being serious, Y/n. I know better. But you’re in trouble when we get through that door.” 

“Am I?” 

“Mmmmnnn.” He kissed your middle knuckle firmer, then popped off and circled it with his tongue. You gulped and cursed softly. His stare hadn’t wavered the whole time he’d done those actions, with the very same intensity as if he was on top of you, pushing you towards an explosive high while you rapidly lost control of every limb. 

You let your swoon turn into a list right into his side. Jungkook’s arm wrapped around your middle. He finally turned his focus towards the far end of the street, from where you’d expect the Lyft to be arriving. In the distance a car turned onto the road and headlights slowly made their way closer. A chime emanated from Jungkook’s coat pocket, but he didn’t move. Instead he smiled. 

“There..We’re in business now. Start the clock, Y/n.” He said, as you stepped in front of him when the car coasted to a stop right in front of where you stood. Jungkook leaned around you and opened the door for you to climb in. 

He followed quickly after and settled in, shutting the door. No sooner had he done that, then his palm found your thigh and rested on top. He was watching the driver and offered a muted smile, then a nod. The guy traded a few words, then turned back. 

Jungkook’s eyes were fixed ahead, watching the driver. His palm climbed your thigh just a little. Something told you it wouldn’t be stopping there. You grabbed his wrist again, but not to stop him. Just like he’d done, you held on for the ride. 

No matter where you went with him, the call of the bedroom would eventually come. Funny how it always sounded like Jungkook. 

He spoke quietly, lips curling with a smile. Even so there was no way you didn’t hear it. You FELT it, with every syllable clawing at your center. Between sweat and remnant rain drops, you’d never be dry.

“Let’s go.”  

[bahrtofane]

after pleading and much excitement on kylians’ end, you finally bite the bullet and take him with you to your hometown of algiers. 

kylian x algerian!reader

word count : 1.3K+

watch it: fluffy fluff fluff, mild over thinking and angst if u rly rly dig deep for it 

luv my country fr fr

—--

theres a small dent on the wall from where you banged your elbow so hard you swore you broke it. you were around 10. it's been years, and the little spot still stands. you never forget to run your thumb over the ridges, the cool wall warming under your touch.

It's been years, but the wall holds the memory, a mirror of you. each flick of your thumb ignites the scene inside your head over and over, you swear you can feel your elbow sting. you remember the way you hissed sharply and called for your mom, who came scuring from the hallway. and how your cousins all lined up to see the damage and soon teased you for being a baby. screeching at the 'crater' you left in the wall. your aunt snapped a picture of the comotion while she laughed hysterically, hand on her hip, head tossed back while the rest of the family filled in to check out the commotion. 

you were given a wet towel to keep in your elbow till the swelling went down. and the teasing never stopped, in fact you're bound to have it happen at any second. your cousins called you bulldozer for years, some still do. that's even your contact name in a few of their phones. 

it's so silly how such a little moment from so many years ago carries on. wasn't even your funniest moment in full honesty. you have much better ones. 

it's been years, and it remains one of your many contributions to your grandmother's little flat. cozy and quaint in the center of algiers. today you bring a new addition, kylian.

you joked about taking him once, just a passing comment while you showed him pictures from your last trip. he hummed, latching onto the idea like an excited puppy to a chew toy. bothering you with itineraries (as if you need one in your hometown?), your texts are a wall of flight screen shots at this point. and of course bombarding you with questions every second he got the chance. 

"should i pack light?"

"what cities will you take me to?"

"do you think i'll need to bring a lot of security?"

in truth, you were hesitant to bring him along.

 going back home is a feeling you can never get enough of. from the moment you step off the airplane and the familiar smell of your country hits your face, to your first dip into the mediterranean, a homemade meal, singing out of cars in the dead of night while you race through the city. 

bringing him is an intimate ordeal. your country is your first love, first home. she raised you in a sense. 

she is a part of him, the same as she is of you. but having him in your grandmother's home? introducing him to your very lively extended family? you don't know about that.

you were worried about your sanity as much as his. you know the questions will be never ending. he's your fiance now after all, wedding in the works. this is only going to add to the disaster that is wedding planning. you know you're going to have to squeeze in promises of inviting your 2nd cousins aunts cats neighbors gardener. 

and how could you forget, he's kylian. kylian mbappe. there's no way you're bringing him to the heart of algiers and going to be free to roam the streets as you please.

you know you'll never be able to do so on your own again once the media puts two and two together. good by freedom. it's easy in resorts or fancy hotels. everything can be arranged. but not here. 

you and kylian value your privacy dearly. french media has barely ever gotten a proper look at your face and you intend to keep it that way. but you don't think you can get away with that here. you want to show him real places that hold history and the people. not just fancy villas on the coast that cost more than you want to think about. 

he pleaded with you anyway, even after you voiced your concerns. "i have an agent and security for a reason. just take me and the rest will come easy. don't even worry."

you frowned, "it'll be in the summer, when everyone else and their mother is going."

"i just want to see it you know, authentically. i want to experience just a part of what you did growing up." he confessed, shy. 

and so you caved. and here he is. leaning against that same wall you rammed into all those years ago, fanning his face with a pile of notebook paper he found lying around after a long day of unpacking the gifts you bought for your family. 

he's had a long day of posing for pictures and videos, all of which you rolled your eyes at. it's nearing sunset, and you press your forehead against the familiar cool wall of one of the living rooms. it's going to be where you sleep for the next 2 weeks or so. 

the couches convert to beds and you get to play the age-old game of war with the mosquitoes that torment you. you haven't told kylian yet. he needs to be ambushed in the middle of the night for the full authentic experience. ha ha ha. 

you look back to where kylian is sat on the couch perpendicular to yours, hes given up on the fanning. hand under his thighs while he watches what he can of the balcony. you can see the sea from here. in all its beauty. the gentle wind it brings flutters the curtains while you hum. 

tomorrow he meets the rest of your family and you can't help the butterflies that pool in your stomach at the thought. your fiance, meeting the rest of what makes this house a home. you can't wait. for now though, all you want to do is nap.

you get up from your couch, sliding on your socks to press up against his side. even if its pushing near broiling temperatures. he doesn't complain, only bringing his hands to cup your face gently, giving your nose a peck. 

"its so beautiful here, " he sighs, "thank you for bringing me."

you hum into his lips, giving them a firm kiss, "you're welcome my love. i'll show you around tomorrow. it's time for my post flight nap."

he gives you a lazy smile, "yes please i was waiting for you to bring it up. it's past my nap time." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and throw one of the couches throw pillows against his chest. he manages to grab it, hurling it back at you. and while you're distracted he curls his hands against your side, tickling you till you yelp and thrash in his hold, back pressed against the couch while you gasp in between laughter. 

he finally lets you go and collapses on top of you, kissing any skin he can reach.

"okay get off, it's too hot for that." you groan.

he at least listens to that, peeling himself off you and retreating to the far end of the couch while you set up yours for what you know is going to be top 5 naps of your life, easy. 

against the gentle breeze and city sounds, you're lulled to sleep. in your vision you see kylian getting ready to do the same, reaching over to press one sound kiss on your forehead before settling down into his little bubble. 

you could do this forever you think. you're glad he came.

[landwriter]

Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic

for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella

---

Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.

Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x

Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad

Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down

plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!

Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)

Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard

wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you

Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently

...elizabeth

Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.

Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through

Hob replied moments later.

?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!

Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.

...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.

Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”

Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.

Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.

The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”

He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:

hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x

Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.

“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.

Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.

“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.

The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”

Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.

“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.

“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”

“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.

He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.

Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.

A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.

“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.

“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.

Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”

“Unhappily, I paid for this.”

“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”

Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”

“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”

They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.

“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.

“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.

“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”

Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”

Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”

And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.