#just some idle thoughts as i plot out a fic

[contentiousprince]

i think we should normalize making directors commentary posts about fics you write

[yanderestarangel]

did u delete a fic? i swear i saw a tio!miguel fic earlier today

a/n: hi angel! thank you for asking, in fact there was an age restriction and I decided to delete it, I'll take advantage of your comment and repost it. ✧⁠*ᜊ( ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ᜊ.

"TIO" MIGUEL O'HARA X FTM READER

𝐓𝐖: dark plot, toxic relationship, power play, non con, dub con, manipulation, age gap, step!incest (non-blood uncle), invasion of privacy, stalking, threat, dead dove, dark smut, latino ftm reader, femboy reader, jealousy, aggressive sex, recorded sex, dom!miguel, v!sex, blowjob, spanish nicknames, send nudes, degradation, objectification, AU, male x male, porn plot, long fic, brain rot, creampie, blackmail.

Family parties were normal for your family, getting together some close relatives and celebrating on any weekend, always with plenty of music and laughter filling your ears, was annoying at times, but you couldn't say 'no' to a tradition.

You felt the cold of the night breeze enter your skin, each hair left its place accompanied by a strange chill ── you were being watched, and you knew very well who it was... Tio Miguel.

Miguel O'Hara was a friend of your father, a mysterious and serious man, even though your family welcomed him as if he shared the same blood, he still had the same look of rigidity and seriousness ── no one knew much about his past, if he had some relationship or family before moving to your city years ago, but it was only said that he worked as a caretaker on some local farms ── which made him earn too much money for a simple caretaker, but that matter was not touched by no one in your family.

You obeyed the strict rule of calling him "Uncle" or "Tio", since when he arrived, when his eyes met yours, it was as if something awakened in his core ── a flame lost for years, now burning in his soul, and you it was the kerosene that made this fire worse.

Your attention returned to reality, seeing the tanned man go to the place where you were, sitting next to you; muscular legs crammed into the black jeans he always wore, with a weather-beaten dress shirt that had previously been white, now appeared to be a light vanilla shade, hugging the girth of his robust muscles. He had a cold, fresh can of beer in his right hand, while his left went towards his hair, arranging some loose strands that insisted on falling on his forehead, his lips formed a thin line, the corners turned down in disapproval ── The sight of you hiding from the celebration hurt him, a pang of possessiveness invaded his chest, soon remembering the things he had seen, however, before touching on the topic of rupture the words came out softly from his throat.

"What is wrong, carinõ?"

He asked softly, hand reaching out to take yours gently. His grip was firm but not unnecessarily tight, calloused skin warm against your own.

"You should be out there, dancing and laughing with your family... You seem thoughtful mi principito"

You sighed in response, quickly explaining that you weren't in a party mood, your hands went back to the cell phone that was previously in your pocket, making the Mexican's eyes narrow in response to such an act. O'Hara took a deep breath, feeling the air fill his lungs, then crushing the drink can in his hand and turning to you, he knew exactly what he wanted to know and he wanted the truth.

"Who was that boy, mi vida?”

He questioned, pulling you closer to his frame as the music swelled around you. His fingers traced idle patterns on your back, you felt the burn of heat on his body, the smell of expensive men's perfume and cheap alcoholic drink.

"You were speaking so intimately with him..."

His voice was a low purr, tinged with warning.

"This is our moment, just us... I dropped that phone." That was a threat, making you make a quick excuse ── after all, you knew exactly what he was talking about, you were going out with "Hobbie Brown", a friend from your college, but you didn't expect your uncle to have seen the two of you together (but it wasn't very difficult, you and the boy always clung to each other even if you didn't have anything officially. )

You moved away from Miguel's heat, before the sensation was still tolerable, but now it seemed like a violent flame and about to explode like a time bomb. Your mouth opened, speaking sweet lies, trying to mask the fact that you were going out with Hobbie ── you knew that the best way was to lie, even if it didn't do anything, you had already seen how your non-sanguine uncle acted like a crazy man when you were around people other than him. Miguel's eyebrows arched in disbelief, dark brows furrowing deeply. "Tell me, corazón, is there something you wish to confess to me?"

He asked, tilting his head curiously. His gauze lingered on your lips, as if he could taste the lie on them. "I see what happens around me, my heart."

He murmured, his voice low and dangerous.

"And I do not like it... Do not lie to me, mi angel, because the next lie I hear from your sweet lips, you'll regret it." The sound of his voice was a low rumble, like thunder on the horizon. He pulled you close again, his lips brushing your ear softly.

"You play with fire... Mi pequeño."

His voice was a whisper now, his breath warm against your skin.

"And one day, that fire will burn you."

He released you then, stepping back with a harsh exhale. His eyes were stormy, his features set in a hard line. Miguel stared at you for a moment, as if he could read your thoughts, as if he could feel your fear ── Finally, he sighed heavily, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

"If I ever hear of another man touching you like that again... I will end him." He muttered, downing a large gulp of his drink before setting the bottle down on the table. You watched him leave, the loud footsteps on the raw cement floor were enough to tell you that he was angry. The rest of the party was strange, you felt tio Miguel's eyes on you, even though the atmosphere was pleasant for the other participants in your family, everything had gotten worse after the confrontation you had with the man ── you thought about telling about your uncle's strange behavior towards your father, but you knew it wouldn't help, they would just defend Miguel and say that you were exaggerating... But you felt like you weren't.

You went to your room, while you saw the tall man's shadow in the hallway, bumping into the walls because he was too drunk to think or stand on his feet ── you saw him leaning on your door frame, while you asked calmly if he needed some help. Miguel's eyes met his, his vision slightly blurred from the alcohol he had consumed. He licked his lips, his gaze roaming your body hungrily, but he didn't act, only a sob and a sad laugh left his lips, while he showed his white canines.

"You are mi ninõ. You always have been and always will be... There is no escaping your destiny."

He babbled, his words filled with drink, but he was serious, like he had never spoken before, you could see a mix of dark emotions that burned in his brown orbits, each word, no matter how slurred it was, carried a clear truth that could not be said aloud by several taboos.

His hands reached out, gripping your arms tightly. His fingers dug into your flesh, leaving small red marks.

"Don't forget this... You would never lie to your Uncle right? I will protect you... Incluso si es de ti mismo."

He leaned closer, his breathing heavy and laced with the smell of whiskey.

"But I will also punish you if you disobey me."

He let go of you then, frowning as he looked at the marks he had left on your arms.

"Go to bed now."

He mumbled, turning away from you and stumbling towards the door.

"Sleep well, my precious boy."

His voice was filled with alcohol, spite and a twisted desire ── the latter making his gaze linger on you for a moment longer, as he staggered out, ignoring everything and everyone around him, you tried to ignore the burning in your stomach, a mixture of fear and a bittersweet heat near your stomach, you were maybe just very tired... Right? You pushed away the thoughts that consumed your mind, trying to grab the fog of sleep that you tried to achieve, you hoped for a good day... But little did you know what fateful destiny had planned.

You woke up to your parents cleaning the house, it was a hot and irritating Sunday, you woke up sweaty and to the loud sounds of rooms being dragged from one place to another ── you really didn't want to be there, so your father told you to go to your uncle Miguel's house, even though you insisted on saying the opposite, that you could handle the chaos at home and help them, but your parent just repeated the phrase and sent you to keep O'Hara company at his house.

Everything would be better than facing him again.

You wore your most comfortable and cool dress for that sultry summer day ── your breasts bounced and you felt the coolness of the wind blowing beneath your legs, reaching your thighs and panties, an adorable boy, on the way to the wolf's house.

Walking under the sun until you saw Miguel's house in a rural area and away from the common neighborhood, you called his name, soon seeing the man come completely sweaty and shirtless, still wearing the same pants from yesterday, while drying his sweat of his brow, letting you into his comfort.

"Fine."

He grumbled, he turned around, taking you home without saying another word. The tension between the two of you was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words.

As you entered the house, you noticed a slight disorder. Miguel's usually immaculate house really needed some cleaning. He gestured for you to sit on the couch.

"Your father said you were coming..." He sighed with a hand on his hips as he looked at you steadily. "That's good, now we can continue our conversation from yesterday, okay? I want the truth my boy, give me your cell phone, unlocked... After all, you have nothing to hide from me right... You and Hobbie are just good friends... Right?" His voice carried that threatening and authoritarian tone again, you stuttered but when you saw your uncle's look you swallowed hard and accepted your fate, obviously you had spicy messages on your cell phone, but what could you do? Running unfortunately wasn't an option, neither was screaming, you were trapped in a spider's web, and in the possessive man's judgmental gaze.

"Now. Give it to me. Or else you know what I'm capable of."

He repeated as you handed him the electronic device ─ and it didn't take long for him to find what he was looking for... Miguel's eyes narrowed as he flipped through the messages on his phone. His grip tightened around the device, his knuckles turning white. A mixture of anger, jealousy and hurt crossed his face as he read the explicit messages and saw the intimate photos, you were really with that boy... You were doing everything behind his back.

"How dare you show your body to that piece of shit!"

His voice was laced with bitterness and disappointment. He threw the phone onto the table, the screen cracking on impact.

"Do you think you can send nudes to some random boy and get away with it?"

He took a step towards you, his expression darkening.

"Did he make you wet? Did he make you excited?" His words came out like venom, his hand shot out, grabbing your chin tightly, forcing you to look at him. Miguel's grip on his chin tightened, his fingers digging into his flesh. His angry eyes fixed on his, his expression filled with a mixture of possessiveness and pain.

"I expected everything... Except that, I'm tired, tired of just being seen as your fucking uncle... I can give you so much more than that boy ever could. I can make you scream, make you beg for more. But you need to understand that you are mine."

His voice was filled with a desperate need, a desire that was both warm and terrifying. He pressed his body against his, his erection evident through his jeans. You tried to protest again, in vain, you just felt O'Hara's thick lips on yours, it was strong, his tongue dominating his as he held you tightly. His hand guided your trembling hand to his hard, throbbing erection, pressing it against the fabric of his pants. He let out a low growl of pleasure, the sound vibrating against your lips.

"You always make me hard on boy... So fucking hard." He continued kissing you fiercely, your free hand moving to grip his waist, his fingers digging into your flesh. He pressed your body against his again, now the bulge of his pants rubbing against your thigh. The intensity of his touch and the raw desire in his eyes made your own body respond, despite the fear and confusion, it was so wrong, but it felt right at the same time.

"Do you think you can show yourself like that to anyone? Do you think there will be no consequences?"

He pushed you back, guiding you towards the couch again ─ his hands exploring your body with a hunger that bordered on desperation.

"Strip for me, baby boy. Show me that body you dared to share with someone else. Show me what only I should see."

His voice was commanding, his eyes burning of lust and anger. He watched as you hesitantly complied, removing your clothes piece by piece, revealing your naked form to him ── your dress was discarded somewhere in the room, your breasts bounced while your nipples became hard from contact with the air, your pussy was already wet, a simple kiss had done that to you.

He looks at you with admiration... All of that was for him, a banquet of the gods, he wasn't going to leave you in punishment, no matter how angelic you were, he was going to reduce you to a dumb and beautiful mess, totally broken for him.

"Look at you... So eager to please, so desperate for my touch. Did just one kiss from does your uncle get you this wet?"

A smile played at the corners of his lips as he took hold of his cell phone, opening the camera app with a sinister glint in his eyes.

"Well, since you were so willing to show yourself to that boy, I think it's only fair that I capture this moment. Don't you agree, my precious angelito?"

He positioned himself in front of you, his cock springing free from his pants. The sight of his naked arousal feels a mix of fear and excitement coursing through you. He pulled you down to your knees, his grip firm on the back of your head.

"Suck it," he commanded "Let the world see what a slut you've become."

You hesitated for a moment, the gravity of the situation sinking in. But the thought of defying him only fueled his anger further. With a mixture of trepidation and submission, you wrapped your lips around his throbbing length, your tongue swirling around his head. He groaned, his grip tightening in his hair as he began recording your submissive act.

"You look so fucking beautiful with my cock in your mouth. Such a good boy, taking it all in."

He continued to record, capturing each salacious moment as you eagerly pleasured him. The taste of his cock and the sound of his moans filled your senses, heightening your own pleasure. Your body responded, the tingling warmth between your legs growing more intense with each passing moment.

"No one else gets to taste you like this. You're my slutty boy, and I'm going to make sure everyone knows it."

He spoke as the fat and hot tip of his member hit your throat repeatedly, making you choke and connect your nose with his groin, the lack of air making you momentarily see stars as he let you breathe again.

As Miguel reached his climax, he grunted and released a hot jet of cum into your mouth. He groaned with satisfaction, feeling the pulsing sensation as he emptied himself into your mouth. The taste of his essence filled your senses, mixed with the bitter-sweet humiliation of the situation. Once he had finished, he withdrew his dick from your mouth, his grip firm on your face. He forced you to open your mouth wide, showing your dirty tongue, coated with his cum, to the camera. The sadistic glint in his eyes only intensified as he instructed you to swallow it all.

You obediently complied, gulping down his cum, heavy tears ran down your body, while his thumb pulled your cheek to show him even more of your oral cavity.

"Look at the camera....You look like a damn porn star... A filthy, little porn star."

You barely had time to react, then the man trapped you beneath him again ─ his thighs separated yours, while he looked at your cunt milking the air with so much excitement, making him laugh mockingly and dominantly ─ without prior warning, his thick cock entered your wet pussy, stretching you to your limits and causing a mixture of pain and pleasure to surge through your body. Your legs were draped over his shoulders, granting him unrestricted access to your most intimate parts.

As he thrust into you, Miguel focused the camera on your tear-streaked face, capturing every moment of your vulnerability and submission.

You were a mess of conflicting emotions, a beautiful sight to him as he reveled in his dominance over you, The desire makes you delirious, completely erasing your sense of right and wrong ── soon you find yourself thrusting your hips onto his cock, whimpering pathetically as you moan his name.

"Mmm, you're such a buen chico para mí.. such a good and beautiful pussy... You hid it from me for so long... But you showed it so easily to that bastard... You disappoint your uncle sometimes, boy."

His hand left the camera momentarily, his fingers finding your clit, caressing it in a way that made your moans intensify, he watched your reactions closely, moaning with lips parted, as he looked directly into your teary eyes.

"See, I knew you'd love this, aren't you? Oh, sí... Mierda- Eres tan apretado chico".

Then, with the peaks of moans and pounding of flesh on flesh, his grunts grew louder and more primal as he climaxed. With one final thrust, he released his hot sperm deep inside your pulsating pussy, filling you with his essence. When he pulled out, the camera captured the evidence of your intimate connection, showing the mixture of his cum and your own juices. Your pussy clenched and milked the air, aching for more even after he finished.

"You've taken all of my cum... Un buen chico para tu tio."

You couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction mixed with a tinge of shame as you watched your body respond to his touch.

He smiles at the video on his cell phone, while looking at you with a dangerous glare.

"Now you're going to be a good putito... After all, you don't want this to leak out to our family, do you?"

You had no choice, and maybe you didn't even want to... Miguel had broken you, as he always wanted, you were his now, only his.

© All rights reserved to @yanderestarangel on tumblr.

[bunniesanddeer]

Touch- Pt 1

Alastor x GN!Reader

Part Two

Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.

Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.

Word Count: 1,049

Touch Pt. 1

He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either. 

Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!

Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room. 

“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”

“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face. 

You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again). 

When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin. 

“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?

That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.

You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.

Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.

The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.

Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.

Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.

“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”

You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”

Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is). 

“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back. 

But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?

It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help. 

When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.

[iwritefandomimagines]

BOTHERED — AGENT DALE COOPER

masterlist

pairing: dale cooper x reader

description: navigating emotions wasn’t agent cooper’s strongest suit. confronting his growing feelings for you, even less so. but jealousy can be a powerful motivator at times — and your close friendship with sheriff truman might have him just a little bothered. [based on a request for jealous!dale]

warnings: none really, jealous!coop though, death mentions — no major spoilers for TP plot, unlike my usual jealousy fics this one is soft n not so angsty (cooper is just quiet and mopey lmao)

author’s note: SURPRISE! i restarted twin peaks and was reminded of the severe lack of dale x reader fics so am here to help remedy that thanks to a jealous!coop request 🫡 (on that note… sheriff truman fics anyone?)

———

When Agent Cooper had agreed to come for one drink at The Roadhouse, it had been almost entirely with the intent to get you off his mind.

Of course, the Laura Palmer case was draining and tiring and left him in need of some relaxation when he could get it too, but today it had been you plaguing his mind all day, ever since his run in with you at the diner this morning.

It wasn’t unusual to bump into you as he ordered his morning coffee, nor was it unusual to find himself conceding and letting you have the last slice of pie of an evening when you gave him your best puppy dog eyes.

In fact, he always looked forward to the extra-wide smile you seemed to reserve only for him — routinely basking in your honey sweet voice and eagerness to converse with him more than anyone else in a room.

At first he’d not known how to react to your keenness, his usual air of professionalism extending to make awkward formulaic small talk with you as you tried to get to know him.

But now he revelled in his conversations with you, and he’d been as enthusiastic as ever when he saw you skip into the Double R with a grin on your face.

That was, until Sheriff Truman trailed in right behind you with an equally large smile and waving your scarf in his hands.

“Two coffees please, Shelly,” you singsonged, snatching the scarf from Harry’s hand with a laugh, “Sorry, I’m terrible with leaving things in the wrong places.”

He shook his head with a chuckle, his eyes catching Dale’s as you began gossiping with Shelly across the counter, “I’ll just be over there with Agent Cooper.”

Cooper nodded back at him in acknowledgment as he wandered over, but something in his expression told Harry he wasn’t happy to see him this morning.

“You got some bad news on the case?”

“No. But I have got something I have to—ah yes, I left something back at my hotel room,” Cooper was doing an uncharacteristically terrible job at lying, “I’d best be off. Please excuse me.”

Without a further word to either Harry or you, he fled the diner with such urgency you’d have thought the building was about to collapse in on itself.

You watched him leave with furrowed brows, his usual warmth nowhere to be seen as he dared not even look at you while he left.

You were utterly perplexed — entirely unaware of the impact that turning up with the Sheriff, all smiles and evidently having driven there together, would have on the man.

Your car hadn’t started this morning and, in a frantic panic, you’d called Harry — with whom you’d been good friends since you were in diapers, for goodness sake — and asked him for a lift to the diner where you could meet a colleague.

He’d obliged, of course, and you’d been looking forward to another morning of idle chatter with your very favourite FBI agent.

Unfortunately, even as Dale Cooper now sat contemplatively beside his friends and swirled his drink around his glass, a friendly ride to the diner wasn’t how he pictured the encounter.

His mind was abuzz at all hours anyway with all of the stress of the case, but it seemed that it was when it came to you that all sense of reason and rationality flew entirely out of the window.

After all, if you had just been in need of a ride, could you not have called him?

He liked to think you were close enough for that now. Perhaps not.

Perhaps he’d been wrong to assume the sheriff was romantically attached to Josie. Hell, perhaps he’d gotten a lot of things wrong in his time in Twin Peaks.

And then as if on cue, into The Roadhouse you waltzed.

You, all bright eyed and smiling. You, looking somehow more radiant than he’d ever seen you. You, waving in his direction as Harry stood up to hug you and pull out a chair for you to join them.

“Y/N. I didn’t know you were joining us?”

He hadn’t intended for his tone to sound so disappointed. Of course not. But watching you lean in to hug Harry left a bitterness on his tongue.

“Oh, sorry,” you looked down at your feet for a moment, now reluctant to take the seat, “Harry said it would be alright. I can—,”

Dale shook his head, “It’s perfectly okay.”

You swallowed thickly, nodding with a shy smile as you sat down and shimmied your jacket from your shoulders, “Oh, uh, thank you.”

Harry took your coat from you, hooking it over the back of your chair as you placed your purse down on the table and tried to make eye contact with Dale.

Everyone was watching him with bemused expressions, confused by what on earth could be bothering him so much.

He normally lit up when you entered a room, but today your entrance seemed to dim his mood even further.

The agent said nothing for a moment, instead opting to take a large swig of his drink, before standing abruptly.

“Well I’m dry and off to get another drink,” he said, tight-lipped, “Does anybody need another?”

The others just looked between each other, baffled by his unusual behaviour. Even for a man so often talking of crazy dreams and visions, this behaviour was curious.

You bit your lip, taking this as your chance to talk to him about whatever was on his mind, “Not another, but I need my first. I’ll—I’ll join you at the bar.”

“Alrighty then,” he led the way, his coat swishing behind him, because for some reason he’d still not relaxed enough to remove it, “What will it be?”

“Oh I can get my own drink, Dale,” you smiled, elbows propping up against the bar as he waved the bartender over, “But thanks. That’s kind of you.”

You both ordered your drinks, and you were acutely aware of how hard he seemed to be trying to avoid eye contact.

“Dale… Have I done something to offend you? I can go home if you’d prefer.”

He shook his head fervently, “No, not at all.”

He finally seemed to look at you now, his eyes dead set as he pondered his next words.

“If I did, you can tell me. I didn’t mean to intrude, it’s just that earlier, Harry—,”

“Are you and Sheriff Truman dating?”

His words almost winded you — what on earth made him think that?

You giggled, “Absolutely not! He’s just a friend. And anyway, he’s dating Josie and I’m not interested. Hold on, is this because he drove me to the Double R this morning?”

He gulped, and you were sure a blush began to tinge his cheeks, “It was the first time you’d arrived together and you seemed closer than I’ve seen you previously. Forgive my intrusion.”

At this you chuckled again, one hand curling around your glass and the other resting atop his forearm comfortingly.

“My car wouldn’t start and I was meeting someone I work with, so I needed a ride quickly,” you explained, eyes crinkling as you smiled across at him, “Would it bother you if we were? Dating, that is.”

Despite the inevitability of the question, he still felt taken aback by it.

“No, I suppose it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“That’s not the question I asked,” your voice softened only further, and you felt him tense as the hand you’d rested on his arm moved atop his hand instead, “Would you be bothered if we were dating?”

“I—,” he paused, analysing the way you were looking at him right now, “I suppose I would, yes.”

“And why might that be?”

At this point, you seemed to be on the same page.

It was evident you were goading him towards being honest with you — but quite clearly only because the feelings he so obviously was trying to conceal were reciprocated — and the weight of confession seemed to have lightened a little now.

“Jealousy, I’d say.”

There was very nearly a hint of a smirk on his lips now as he looked away for a moment, before lifting his drink to his lips with his eyes still fixed on yours.

“Jealousy? Why ever would the man I so clearly dote over at every opportunity have any reason to be jealous of someone else?” you teased, tongue in cheek as you leaned in a little closer.

It was his turn to chuckle lightly now, “Perhaps it has something to do with that someone else being the person you asked to drive you to work in a pinch, and the way you were practically glowing with joy when you walked into the diner together.”

You narrowed your eyes, shaking your head a little as your fingers interlaced with his now, “For an FBI agent, one might question your observation skills at times. The diner in the morning is, like, my happy place. And as one of the main reasons why that’s the case, I wouldn’t have expected you to come to such a wrong conclusion. I only asked Harry because he lives right by me!”

“I’ll ignore that first comment,” he tutted, placing down his drink for a moment to run his hand over his hair, “The first thing you did when you got here tonight was hug him, which as you can imagine didn’t do much to suggest I was wrong to believe your affection for him.”

“Friends hug, Coop,” you laughed, “He’s just been going through some stuff lately with Josie and I’ve been trying to be a good friend.”

He nodded, opting to say nothing for a moment as he gathered his thoughts.

You licked your lips, sipping your drink quietly as his gaze continued to cascade over you.

“Someone as… attractive as you can hardly be surprised that I’d expect anyone to jump at the chance to be with you?”

You smirked now, “Would you then?”

He cleared his throat, his eyes dragging from your head to toe again not to aid him in constructing his answer, but just because he couldn’t help himself from admiring you.

“I’m in Twin Peaks, ahem, on important business. So it would be unprofessional of me to do so,” he swallowed as he watched you pout, “But that certainly does not mean that I wouldn’t want to.”

In the time you’d gotten to know each other, he’d for the most part dropped his positively professional demeanour around you — instead finding himself more relaxed, more comfortable.

But it was clear to you in this moment that this was unfamiliar territory for him; Being open and honest about romantic feelings wasn’t easy, even if he was comfortable around you.

“So what does that mean for us?“

Dale drew in a sharp breath, his thumb rubbing over the side of your hand where you were holding his.

“I don’t—Well, I certainly don’t want to keep pretending I don’t have feelings for you,” he seemed to be battling inwardly over what to do, “And I’ve been, forgive me for being so bashfully honest, but I’ve been feeling this way for long enough without it impeding my work to suggest that… Maybe it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“Gee, so romantic,” you joked, watching his face briefly drop before registering that you were joking, “Honestly, I don’t want to cause any problems but… I mean… you surely can’t be expected to just never be happy with someone because of your job.”

He shook his head, “It’s not that. I’m here to keep you safe and a relationship might just compromise your safety instead.”

“The killer isn’t out to get you, are they?” there was panic in your eyes as you asked this, “Surely I’m no more at risk than I already was?”

Dale didn’t even like to for a moment think about you as the next victim — not when he still felt so far from finding the killer and preventing that.

You were, however, probably right.

“D’you know what, Y/N?”

Your lashes fluttered, a twinkle in your eye as a smile fully graced his face again now.

This was the Dale you were used to, smiling from ear-to-ear just looking at you.

“Mhm?”

“How would you feel about a late night slice of damn fine pie?”

You leaned in tentatively, your own smile matching his now too, “I’d love that, Coop.”

He pulled your intertwined hands closer to his chest now, aware of prying eyes but wanting to seize the moment.

“Perfect.”

He dipped his head to kiss you softly on the corner of your mouth, hesitating to do so initially until you nodded to indicate that you wanted him to.

You smiled, kissing him back briefly before pulling away to shoot him a cheeky smile.

“And, if you’re lucky, I might even share the last slice this time.”

———

thank you for reading!!! agonised over how poorly i felt i wrote coop for ages but thought i’d send it out into the world anyway … i hope you enjoy.

pleaaaseee let me know what you think & feel free to send some requests in (especially for dale or harry hehe). in the meantime — here’s my masterlist for more of my work!

[dceasesd]

Do you pirate comics? And if you do please gimme your piracy site mine isn't working😞

And could you give me asshole Bruce and Jason fic recs but specifically "I'm a selfish controlling man child and I love my family and will go to hell and back for them and will do anything to keep them safe" Bruce not "I'm an unfeeling man child who only cares for his narrow views of justice"Bruce

If you don't have any fics like this specifically I would gladly take any Bruce and Jason fics that doesn't bash either of the characters or their idles

i gotcha man i gotcha

i personally pirate all my comics on readcomiconline.li, which i find by typing the title of the comic and issue im looking for followed by ‘read’. usually it’s the first option!! it might depend on what country you’re in, though— i’m in the u.s. and it works for me but i’ve heard of people from other places having trouble with it :P

(also, be warned, readcomiconline.li has so. many. pop-ups. use at your own risk)

and oh my god i have so many thank u so much for asking i love giving recs so much (under the cut!!!!)

alrighty bruce and jay fics pls enjoy!!!

Clearly Calm and Keeping Terrorized by Batbirdies

this is one of my favorite fics of all time it’s so good!! it’s literally exactly what you’re looking for. i’d recommend reading the entire series for full affect, but a very basic summary of the plot is bruce goes to therapy and tries to unruin his familial relationships :-) this fic focuses on his attempts w jason. so great!

This Place we Built with Grace and Guilt by Cerusee

yeeowch this one hurts!! another one of my favorite authors, definitely also check out the rest of cerusee’s works, they’re great!! if i had to describe this fic in one word it would be GUILT

The Penny Drops, The Penny Dreads by Batbirdies

omg second batbirdies fic on this list they just get bruce and jay like no one else what can i say!!! this is the only wip on this list but it is very good and i can’t wait for more!! jason and bruce trying to figure out how to have a relationship w their contrasting class backgrounds

The Distance Between Us by AutumnHobbit

this is the one i instantly thought of when i saw ur ask— autumnhobbit is so good! bruce is traumatized and trying his best and that’s what matters

the city carries ruin in its hearts by nex_et_nox

outsider pov of bruce and jason’s relationship!! an interesting perspective, jim gordon is a surprisingly fun character to read!!

borderline by TheResurrectionist

this isn’t specifically jason and bruce and more bruce and everyone in the family, but there is some good jason&bruce dynamic. control freak bruce tries to stop being a control freak

Come Alive by captainozone

this is a young justice fic so if you haven’t seen the show you might be a tiny bit confused, but it’s essentially just a ‘jason comes home’ fic!! one of my all time favorites!

THIS ISN’T PUNISHMENT (I LOVE YOU.) by orphenusaki

orphenusaki i love you all your fics are amazing pls never stop writing!! this author is so great so id recommend checking out their other stuff as well, but this one features a long-needed convo between bruce and jason prompted by truth serum.

hope you like these!!!! thanks again for the ask <333 happy reading!!!!

[n-e-t-t]

Hogwarts, 5th of February, 1977, 22:20.

Young! Remus Lupin x Fem! Gryffindor! Self-made character! Pre established plot! Smut! NSFW! Fluff! Friends to Lovers! Lovesick! One shot!

Summary: It’s a cold and bleak winter night at Hogwarts, as two friends strike up their usual idle conversations. But for some reason, this cold winters day becomes just as important as any holiday.

Warnings!: Swearing, mentions of food, scars(not self inflicted), angst, sex and nudity, unprotected sex (wrap it up), virginity, kissing, hurt/comfort, smoking, drug mention, teenage problems, mentions of violence

All of these warnings are included for authenticity, not to be romanticised or abused. ALL CHARACTERS INVOLVED ARE 18 OR OVER - NOT SUITABLE FOR MINORS

A/N: 13.5k words. Oh no. I guess I babble? I hope I don’t talk that much in real life. This is my first ever fic, ever!! Please be patient, and caring. Any thoughts and suggestions on my writing would be appreciated. I don’t even know if anyone will read this, but you’ve got to try and put yourself out there!

“Oi-“

Juno stirred, groaning in protest, her brows furrowed in her state of confusion. The warmth of the large hand that squeezed her shoulder was gentle. Only then did she jolt awake, whipping her head upwards from its place on her books, ginger hair flying around from the sudden movement.

“What time is it?-“

She asked quickly, roughly, after her light slumber. Her Irish accent flowed off the tip of her tongue, golden orbs dancing around the empty library and its ornate decorations.

Hells, she really needed to get her priorities straight. Hungover and grumpy.

Remus chuckled, looking at her with a slight smirk as she started to wake. He leaned against the table, crossing his arms over his chest.

“It’s 20 over, and you look like shite.”

He said with a soft chuckle, amused by the sight of her messy hair and tired face.

“I’ve been sitting here for the last half an hour trying to wake you up.”

Remus continued, watching her head whipping around, looking around the empty library.

“You were out cold, sleeping like a little baby.”

Juno groaned again, rubbing her temples before running an idle hand through her messy hair, long and disheveled. Only then did she realise the darkness that had creeped upon the castle, the only light illuminating the room casting from the fire goblets that adorned the stone walls.

“Why didn’t you shake me harder, Moony?-“

She asked, allowing the corners of her lips to twitch upwards in a lopsided fashion, in that signature smile of hers. She finally looked up at him, Remus, her best friend, fellow Marauder, his warm hazel eyes and signature knitted sweater that smelled like chocolate and coffee.

Remus smiled back at her, a lopsided grin growing on his thin face. He loved the way she spoke his nickname, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Oh, I was going to, but it was too funny watching you being completely out of it.”

He said, crossing one ankle over the other as he leaned more against the table, raising his eyebrow and tilting his head to the side.

“And look at you, grumpy and hungover. I can smell the alcohol from here.”

He said, chuckling again, teasing her. It was obvious how comfortable he felt around her, as he let little insults and jokes slide from his tongue like normal conversation.

The mention of alcohol in any capacity made her stomach churn and bubble like the cauldrons in the potions classroom, bitter bile threatening to burn its way up her throat. Juno grimaced, scoffing with a flick of her hand as she leaned back in her chair, ancient and wooden.

“Padfoot knows how to party-“

She replied, grumbling and muttering the words.

“It’s a shame, we missed you there-“

She added, reaching up to brush off some stray crumbs off Remus’ sweater.

Remus rolled his eyes, and let a small scoff escape his lips.

“Oh, obviously,”

He said, referring to Sirius, and all the parties he hosted in the Gryffindor Common Room or the Astronomy tower.

“I was studying.”

He said in response. He felt her fingers brush against his sweater, he chuckled, raising his eyebrow.

“You trying to touch me, McLean?”

Something in the way Remus spoke those syllables made Juno’s chest tighten, though she always prided herself in masking her emotions, at least the ones she didn’t dare want anyone else to see. She hummed, rolling her amber orbs that glistened in the reflection of the fire sconces.

“Shut it, Lupin-”

She giggled, rubbing the tip of her freckled nose with the pads of her fingers.

“You and your books, and your smarty pants glasses and knowledge-”

She continued. Remus laughed, a wide grin plastered on his face.

”You’re just mad that I’m smarter than you.”

He said, a teasing tone to his voice, sticking the tip of his tongue out, like a child.

“You’re smarter than everyone-”

Juno retorted, allowing her honeyed irises to dance across the details of his face. Warm and gentle. Sweet and kind.

She let out another quiet chuckle, reaching forward to close over her leather bound books. It was a double edged sword, loving him. Loving him like a best friend, like a dog or something sweet, like apple tarts. Loving him like dreaming of how he would kiss.

But she couldn’t tell him. She’d never dare. To lose their bond, their friendship. What a waste-

Remus chuckled slightly, looking her over as she closed her books. He felt the same way about her. The way his heart beat a little faster when she smiled, or how his eyes always searched for hers in a room. The way he wanted to do anything to make sure she was comfortable, and happy. He loved her, probably a bit too much. But they were just friends. Even if he sometimes did think about what it would feel like, to kiss her.

”Only you would get mad because I’m smarter,”

He said.

“Maybe you should try reading one of these books sometime.”

He continued, a cheeky smirk on his lips.

”You might actually learn something.”

He loved pushing her buttons. But he also knew that he could, and she wouldn’t mind. They had gotten used to each other over the years, to the light insults, and sarcastic comments.

‘What more is there to learn when the only thing I’m interested in is you?’

The thought ran through Juno’s mind, like a summer storm battering against the confines of her skull. Or maybe it was the alcohol, who’s to tell?

“Maybe,”

Juno hummed, tapping her fingernails against the hardback book.

“Or maybe I should learn to refuse wine from Padfoot-”

Remus chuckled, running a hand through his already messy dark hair. That was already a first step in the right direction. Refusing the alcohol from the party animals. He thought it was a miracle she was even still awake.

“Maybe you should. You’re gonna end up face down unconscious in the middle of potions one of these days-”

He said with a laugh, raising his eyebrows and giving her another smirk.

He couldn’t stop his eyes from dancing over her face, taking her beauty in. He had already memorized all the details on her face. The small beauty mark she had on her left cheek, or the way her lips were naturally pouting in a cute way.

“How many cups did you even have last night?”

“More than enough, clearly-“

Juno grumbled. In some ways, it was amusing to think about their teenage antics, to wash away every responsibility that fell at her feet. To be defiant, to refuse a smile to anyone that asked. But it was futile, and everything moves with time.

“Kind of wish I was just burning my skin off by the fireplace, studying with you-”

She spoke the words quietly, softly, genuinely.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head. He remembered his younger years at Hogwarts, the many nights he spent with his friends, talking in the common room until late, drinking firewhiskey and sneaking off to do dumb little pranks. He found himself missing that sometimes, before all the responsibilities.

He looked at her, his eyebrows raising slightly.

“Then why don’t you study with me?”

Juno smiled, warmly, the dimples on her cheeks decorating her face like Christmas ornaments on a mantlepiece. She looked at him, unable to wrap her head around how someone with his condition could be so warm. So kind.

“I will-“

She replied.

“Solemnly swear-“

She added, watching him roll up his sleeves.

Remus chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on her smile, the way her dimples adorned her freckled face. He could feel the heat in his cheeks as she smiled at him, his heart beat picking up a pace.

“Is that your best attempt at a serious tone?”

He smirked, teasing her and her lighthearted ways. He could probably count the amount of times she had been serious on one hand. It was part of her charm, in a way. She never took life too seriously, and didn’t waste time on being sad or upset. She always had a small grin on her lips, a cheeky tone in her voice, and a playful eye-roll on the horizon.

She groaned once more, head pounding, most likely from dehydration.

She pushed herself out the wooden chair as its legs screeched against the floorboards, smoothing out the fabric of her skirt with her palms before tilting her head to look upon Remus’ full height.

“Can’t help how I talk, Moons-”

She quipped, heart clenching as she breathed in the scent of him.

Remus chuckled again, rolling his eyes. That was typical Juno, not being able to stay serious for more than two minutes at a time. Though he couldn’t really mind it. It was what made her who she was, the thing that had made him notice her in the first place.

He watched as she stood up, smoothing down the fabric of her skirt. His eyes involuntarily danced over her body, taking in every inch of her.

“I know. That’s what makes you Juno. Pretty sure I could tell if someone had replaced you, like a shapeshifter or something-”

His eyes locked with hers, his heart beating in his ear. It was getting harder to control himself, to not push her up against a wall, and do all the things he’d wanted to do for months. Months? Years? He’d lost track of time.

“You’re gonna have the worst headache in the morning. And no one to blame but yourself-”

He teased, his thin lips pulling into an amused smirk.

She never had anyone else to blame apart from herself with anything. She was always her own demise, self destructive and selfish.

Maybe she was too harsh on herself.

Then she spotted it, the bright red packet of cigarettes hanging loose in Remus’ bag, peeking out menacingly.

“Come outside with me-”

She spoke, for once, sincerely. Her honeyed irises darted from Remus’ handsome face, to the cigarettes and back again.

Remus’ eyebrows raised, as he grabbed the cigarettes from his bag, taking two from the pack, lighting them both with his wand.

“Of course.”

Juno gasped and waved her hands about in front of Remus’ face, before grasping him by the sweater and pulling him towards the door.

“Not in here! Christ Moony!-”

She exclaimed, voice dropping to a whisper as her brown leather shoes scrapped against the old wooden floors.

“You boys will keep me in detention forever!-”

She could smell it already, the musky smoke staining her uniform. Luckily the library was near the courtyard, once they climbed the stairs, of course, the chill of the night nipping her kneecaps and kissing her cheeks once they had finally emerged.

Remus chuckled sheepishly, rolling his eyes. As she pulled him towards the entrance of the courtyard, he had to fight off a grin. He felt her hand grip tighter in the fabric of his sweater, as she yanked him out into the cold night. He took a long drag, letting the smoke roll off his tongue over his thin lips.

“You’re a bit overdramatic-”

He commented, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he watched her struggle to not shiver in the cold of the February night. He took another drag of the cigarette, before moving closer to her, to try and warm her up.

“You’re gonna get yourself sick-”

“I’m always sick-“

She replied, giggling softly as they gathered themselves underneath the large weeping willow tree. She could see the stars peaking through the vines, the constellations clear as day as Remus’ warmth hummed against her skin through her blouse.

If this was the end of the world, or the collapse of time, Juno would be satisfied. Joyful at his side.

“Stars are pretty tonight-”

She commented.

Remus chuckled, shaking his head at her comment. It was true that she was always sick. The girl was a disaster when it came to taking care of herself. Snotty nose and cranky attitude. He knew he’d have to get on her about it eventually.

“Yeah,”

He said, his eyes still fixed on her lips.

“They really are.”

He felt the cool night air stinging against his face, blowing back his messy, dark locks of hair and nipping at his neck. Despite the cold, he felt strangely warmed. He wrapped his arm around her, to pull her close against his side. He felt her shiver slightly, and he rubbed his hand gently up and down her arm, the sleeves of his sweater covering her skin. He had the urge to just bury his face against her hair.

Juno smiled at the action, effortlessly affectionate and endearing. Something friends do. He was so sweet, damn it-

Her shoulder pressed into Remus’ chest as she crossed her ankles, shifting her weight between each foot.

“Have you and Prongs made up yet?-“

She asked, taking a sharp inhale from Remus’ cigarette that lingered between his fingers as she looked up at him from the corner of her eye.

Remus’ eyes darkened slightly, frowning at the mention of James. It felt like ages since they had last tried to talk to one another. He took a drag after her, letting the smoke roll out through his nose as he exhaled it, and looked at her.

“No. But it’s not like it matters anymore-“

He said, his tone sharp and cold.

“I don’t know if we will for a while-“

He added. He didn’t know if they would be able to fix whatever mess this was, but he certainly wasn’t happy about the whole thing. Losing one of his best friends wasn’t on his list of things to do this year.

Juno hated it. Absolutely raging at the turmoil within her group of close friends. It was ride or die, it was special, irreplaceable.

“Yes, you will-“

Juno spoke, Irish accent flowing through the crisp air, breath visible.

“You have to-”

It made her heart hurt, watching Remus try and lock eyes with James across the breakfast table, yearning for a white flag of surrender.

“Its us. All of us. The Marauders, Moony-”

Remus sighed. He knew she was right. The Mauraders were inseparable, they always had been. But this fight was severe, one of the biggest arguments they’d ever had. He didn’t know if he could just forget it all and go back to how things were before. The thought of it tugged at his heart painfully.

“I’ll try, as soon as he makes an effort. But I don���t know, Juno… this isn’t like our regular squabbles.”

He leaned his head down slightly, so his forehead was almost resting against hers. He couldn’t help but take in a deep inhale of her scent, the smell of parma violets and warm sugar so sweet around him.

Fuck personal space.

“I want to fix things… I don’t want to cause the entire group to fall apart-.”

The look in Remus’ warm gaze was jarring, like he was swallowing his pain until he couldn’t help but vomit it back up again.

“It’s not your fault-“

She replied, snubbing the cigarette out against the bark of the tree.

“James is sensitive right now. Him and Lily are trying to figure out their relationship, he’ll come around. I swear it-”

She explained, suddenly feeling like the weight of the topic had drowned out her hangover.

Remus chuckled bitterly, and pulled her even closer. He knew she was right, of course. His issues with James really weren’t his fault, he’d done nothing wrong.

But he couldn’t help but feel responsible. After all, none of his friends were exactly stable right now. Everyone had an issue of their own to deal with, and the one who usually put everything and everyone before himself, was himself falling apart.

“I just want everything to go back to normal… I miss my friends-“

He muttered, burying his head against the crook of her neck. He hated himself for feeling vulnerable and lost. That wasn’t the role he was supposed to be playing. But he wanted to let himself be weak. Just once. Just a few moments with her alone.

Her heart shattered, and regardless of her easy going nature, she was serious. Genuine. Unmasked.

“Moons-”

She whispered, trying not to slip into the void from a simple moment of intimacy between them.

She cradled the back of his head, fingers delving into the dark chestnut strands in an attempt to comfort him. The one that always had his shit together.

“I know you do. It’s- it’s going to be okay, I promise-“

He could feel her fingers gently twisting around the strands of his messy hair, and he couldn’t help the way he closed his eyes and slightly melted into her touch. He couldn’t fight the way his heart thumped hard against his rib cage, and the butterflies that were fluttering around in his stomach.

Juno, his best friend, his partner in crime, the one who always laughed at his dumb jokes, who never once failed to light up a room when she entered.

The girl he’d fallen head over heels in love with.

“How do you know?-“

He mumbled, his lips almost touching the silky soft skin of her neck. He pushed himself even closer against her, his need to be close to her overwhelming him. It was almost an addiction.

How did she know? How could she know? Remus was the smart one, the clever one. Juno wasn’t any of those things, in her mind at least.

She swallowed, the heat of Remus’ breath wafting over her neck.

“Because Prongs is stupid. But he’s loyal, like a dog-“

She replied, hushed and quiet.

“And Padfoot said that he didn’t know how to say sorry to you-“

He let out a deep sigh, his shoulders slumping at her words. That was just like them. They didn’t know how to communicate. Of course they didn’t know how to deal with things like this.

His fingers pressed against her skin, fingers tracing mindless shapes into her waist. As if he was afraid she’d disappear if he let go.

“How do you and Padfoot always know these things.. you two always know everything-“

“Sources. We have our sources, I guess.”

“Bloody gossip hounds, you two-“

Remus replied, grumbling. Juno sniggered, pulling away just enough to look up at him with those golden eyes. He was so pretty she thought she could cry, or at least slit the throats of all those other girls that wanted him, as selfish as that was. She didn’t even have the right to think that way.

“Anyways, enough with the depressing shite, huh?-“

This was Scotland, in February. Depressing was an understatement.

Remus let out a soft chuckle, his fingers still tracing his mindless patterns.

“I hate it when you get smart on me-“

He teased, though there was a hint of seriousness to it. It was like she could always read his thoughts and feelings, she just knew who he was. The things he didn’t like people to know about him.

He was quiet for a moment. He took in her features, the way her eyes gleamed in the dark, the way her lips looked rosy in the cold. He sighed out, a tiny smile twitching on his lips. He glanced up at the night sky, the stars and moon shining above them.

“You know the night sky pretty well, don’t you?-“

Juniper McLean. Astronomy extraordinaire. Record holder for how many times a telescope lens could be broken.

Remus’ syllables reminded her of something she had done last night at that party, whilst Sirius was too busy snogging blonde girls to pay any attention. She smiled toothily, before pulling away from Remus’ grasp.

“Can I show you something?-”

She asked, not even waiting for an answer before butting in again.

“Mary did it last night-”

She added, remembering the taste of red berry wine and firecracker whiskey on her tongue.

Remus quirked an eyebrow at her question, watching as she pulled away to stand in front of him. He studied her face as she spoke, noting the way her eyes gleamed and a small smirk tugged at the corners of her lips. She was up to something. He didn’t know what, but he wasn’t sure if he liked the look on her face.

“Mary did what last night?”

He asked, his voice filled with a hint of wariness.

Juno chuckled, amused by the curiosity in Remus’ hazel orbs that always lit up at the sound of something new.

“Just look-“

She chirped, before turning around to face in the other direction, her back to him. She was lucky it was the dead of night, or else there was absolutely no way in hell she would be this daring.

Juno swiftly pulled her blouse over her head, cursing at the chill of the air on her newly exposed skin. Her other hand came to pull her hair out of the way, revealing Mary’s handiwork. Ink from a quill, connecting the freckles on her back to one another, mapping out in constellations across her bare back.

Remus felt his eyes widen as she turned away from him, his heart thumped wildly against his chest as she slipped off her blouse, leaving her bare back completely exposed. His eyes instantly darted to the smooth skin of her back, tracing the constellations drawn on her skin. He hadn’t even realized he was moving his feet until he was standing right behind her, his eyes drinking in the sight in front of him.

"Merlin…”

His voice was low and hoarse, eyes tracing every little tiny mark on her skin. His fingers itched to reach out and touch the skin of her back. They ached to touch her, to feel the warmth of her body under his fingers. She was so close, and everything inside him screamed to just reach out, but instead he stood frozen in place, completely mesmerized by the girl in front of him.

He forced himself to breathe, his fingers clenching into a tight fist. He couldn’t allow himself to touch her. He knew he’d just want more.

Remus’ lack of words wasn’t unusual to her, knowing he was taking in the sight before him. It was enough to blossom her cheeks like a garden in spring, something she could easily blame on the winter air.

“Crazy, huh?-“

She spoke, giggling as her shoulders lightly bounced.

“She showed it to me in the mirror when she was done-“

She added, kicking her feet against the grass idly, holding the fabric of her blouse against her chest.

It took Remus a few moments to be able to speak coherently again. The sight of her bare back, the way the stars were drawn across her skin, the tiny little freckles that covered her.

"Yeah… yeah, it’s..”

He swallowed, his eyes fixed on her skin.

“Can I touch it?”

Juno’s honeyed gaze was locked upon a tree in the distance, watching the way it swayed back and forth. So simple, making oxygen for them both to breathe. Something that had a clear purpose in life.

She snapped herself out of her own chaotic mind, tongue darting out to wet her lips before nodding.

“Yeah,”

She murmured, thankful that he couldn’t see her face right now. Always a gentleman.

“You didn’t need to ask, Moons-”

His breath hitched at her words, as his heart throbbed painfully hard. He took a moment to compose himself, his throat dry as he slowly allowed his hand to reach out towards her. His fingers shook faintly as they hovered over her skin, as if he was almost scared to touch her. When his hand came into contact with her skin it was impossibly light, his fingers so gentle it was almost as if feathers were brushing against her back. Though his touch was soft as a caress, his hands trembled ever so slightly.

Juno’s breathing hitched in her throat, lungs constricting at his touch. Light and gentle like a leaf in the wind.

“That tickles-“

She spoke, giggling innocently. Never in a million years would she have let anyone else touch her like that, let alone have showed them like this.

But this was Remus. She could be herself with him, utterly and completely. She could remember it now, all those years ago when they took the piss out of people on the Hogwarts Express for the first time.

Remus was silent, his heart beating wildly in his chest as she giggled at his touch. The sound of her laughter made his hands shake and his mind scream like a mandrake.

The memory of them sitting on the train, laughing and making fun of people came to his mind, and his heart ached at the thought of how much things had changed, yet the two of them were still the same.

“…Can I ask you something?”

He breathed out, his voice hoarse and strained.

At that, Juno pulled her blouse back over her torso, adjusting it accordingly before turning back around to face him.

“Anything-“

She replied, flashing him her signature smile, lopsided and cheeky. She had to pretend she didn’t feel anything, that her stomach didn’t clench at his touch, or that her mind didn’t swim with what it could possibly feel like for Remus to touch her everywhere.

His gaze was fixed on her smile as she turned around to look at him, his eyes tracing her lips, and down her neck. He swallowed before speaking.

“Are you.. Are you dating anyone right now?”

He instantly regretted the question as soon as the words left his mouth. What if she was dating someone? Worse, what if she was in love with someone? He felt his heart clench at the thought, as he looked into her golden eyes, praying that she would say no.

Juno scrunched her brows, but her smile didn’t falter. She looked up at him inquisitively, head tilted to the side as she examined the features that had grown so familiar to her, the details that never left her mind. Remus’ glasses, black framed and old. She could picture him nose deep in a book right now, stuffing his mouth with chocolate to stave off his impending werewolf transformation.

“If I was, don’t you think you’d know about it?-“

She replied, Irish accent light and airy, breath visible in the cold night.

Remus felt himself take a deep breath and relax slightly at her words. The idea of her dating someone sent pangs of jealousy through his heart, though he pushed those thoughts out of his head rather quickly. He let the corners of his mouth tug up into a tiny smile at her words. Trust her to say something snarky as a reply.

“Fair point. I suppose I’d know if you had some idiot trailing after you.-“

He teased, his voice soft and low. Gods, he was that idiot, wasn’t he?

He mentally cursed himself for a moment, but was able to push the negative thoughts away. He just wanted to be able to look at her, to hear her voice, to touch her and talk to her.

“Are you.. seeing anyone then?“

He inquired, shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to seem as casual as possible, even though he was anything but casual on the inside. He was pretty sure he could physically feel his heart beating in his chest, thrumming against his ribcage.

Juno began wondering what the hell had been in his porridge when he ate it this morning, or if someone had cursed him as a prank.

She chuckled, shaking her head in response.

“Are you asking me if I’m having sex with anyone, Moons?-“

She asked, point blank. She was never one to beat around the bush, especially around her best friends.

But Merlin’s beard, why was he even asking?

Remus felt his face heat up at her question, a flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. He tried to keep his composure, he really tried, but her blunt question caught him completely off guard. He felt the words get stuck in his throat, stuttering like an idiot for a few seconds, before finally being able to reply.

”I- No-“

He said, a strangled squeak in his words. He was a mess, and he knew it.

“No! I didn’t mean-“

He paused, his hands clenching and unclenching in his pockets. His heart was racing a million miles a second, his ears pink with embarrassment. He knew he should just stop speaking and move on, but the need to get his point across forced more words out of his mouth.

“I wasn’t- I swear I wasn’t asking that! I wouldn’t even want to know, that’s none of my business-“

He was babbling now. His face was red, this was definitely the worst outcome possible. For someone so clever, he felt like an idiot.

She wanted to stop him, to grab him by the broad shoulders and stuff his mouth with a rag. But in all honesty, the thought only made her giggle more. The sound vibrated through her chest, her hand reaching up to cover her mouth.

“No, Moony, I’m not shagging anyone-“

She replied through her laughter, leaning back against the willow tree.

“Are you shagging anyone?-“

Gods, is she still drunk?

She asked the question like she had asked him if he wanted a cup of tea, simple and nonchalant.

Remus’ mouth opened and closed, his mind completely malfunctioning. She looked so casual as she leaned against the tree, her eyes sparkling with laughter. He could feel his face heat up with embarrassment, and he mentally cursed himself for not being able to speak.

He was supposed to be eloquent. He was supposed to be suave. He was supposed to be sophisticated. This was a complete disaster.

“No-“ He said, still as flustered as he was before.

He paused, taking a moment to collect his thoughts and find his words. The idea of himself in Sirius’ or James’ shoes, the endless charm pouring from his lips, being fucking cool. It made his stomach twist into a thousand knots. He didn’t feel like he was the same as them. They chose to embrace their Animagus abilities, he didn’t.

‘You’re so fucking selfish. They do it for you.’

He ran a hand through his hair, fingers tugging at the soft locks in agitation.

”I don’t.. that’s not something I..“

He couldn’t even finish that sentence, it was all just word vomit. He was stumbling over every word he spoke, and he felt like burying his face in his palms.

Juno felt her heart swell in her chest, the night breeze dancing through her long ginger hair as she looked at him sweetly. Like she always did.

He looked so pretty with flushed cheeks.

“Take a breath, Lupin-“

She replied, her voice close to a whisper.

“Where’s my friend gone? Is he in there? My witty, sarcastic Moony?-“

She asked, eyeing his ruffled chestnut hair.

He closed his eyes as she spoke, the sound of her voice a breath of fresh air over the smoke inside him. He took a slow breath, taking a moment to compose himself even just slightly. He felt her eyes on him, the way she looked at him, the way she called him Moony.

That last bit forced a tiny smile onto the edge of his mouth. He opened his eyes to look at her, letting his gaze fix upon her golden eyes and her glowing face.

“He’s.. in there somewhere.”

He murmured back.

His eyes fell onto her face, looking at her soft features, her smooth skin. His breath was a bit less labored, his heart still racing but at a less erratic tempo. She was so beautiful, and she stood here in front of him, close enough that he could reach out and touch her.

‘Red is my favourite colour now. Didn’t realise it before.’

“And what about you, McLean? Juno, Is she still there?-“

He asked quietly, his voice barely a whisper.

Juno stood silently for a moment, pondering the question herself. It really shouldn’t be that complicated, a simple yes would suffice. But she smiled, pushing her tongue against the backs of her teeth as she stared back at him.

Finally, she nodded, hair falling across her freckled cheeks as her fingers pulled and toyed with the cotton of her blouse.

“You bring her out, you know. From behind the curtain-“

She spoke, beginning to sound like one of Remus’ handwritten stories. Like she was covered in his ink.

He couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth. It was only a tiny smile, a fleeting moment, but it was there all the same, and it was genuine.

“I do? What am I, the magician then?”

He chuckled, a light twinge in his voice. He wanted to laugh, really laugh at her theatrics.

Remus’ laughter was contagious, like a deadly disease she would never want to be cured from. Juno laughed too, mirroring the twitch of his lips.

“Yeah, something like that-“

She replied.

“You’d look good in the top hat-“

She raised her hand a little, pointing to the top of his head, at the little tufts of hair that pointed in different directions.

He felt the grin that was growing on his lips, his head tilting forward as she pointed at his messy hair. He let out another chuckle, a real one this time. It rumbled through his chest, a deep and somewhat hoarse sound, but a sincere one all the same. He ran a hand through his hair self-consciously, the strands sticking up in an even more messy fashion.

“I’d look good in one of those capes too, I think.-“

He joked, his voice rough and low.

His eyes flicked back up to her at his own words, the tone of his voice coming as a surprise even to himself. He hadn’t meant the words to sound like that, that low and husky, but it had slipped out before he could stop himself. He looked at her, her wild copper hair, her freckles, those golden eyes that seemed to see right through him.

He wondered if she could see the desire that burned inside his chest. The need to touch her, to pull her into his arms and hold her and keep her there.

She nodded once more, lightly nibbling her plump bottom lip between her teeth as she stifled the bubble of laughter that inflated in her chest like a balloon. Remus’ hair, now messier than before, spoke volumes in itself. He could look worse and Juno would still look at him the way she looked at him now.

“We could do a traveling show, you could saw me in half or something, we can laugh at getting booed because we’re shite-“

Juno replied, rubbing a knuckle over her eye and accidentally smudging her periwinkle blue eyeshadow, glittery and messy.

Remus felt a small laugh tear its way out of his throat at her idea, leaning back against the tree trunk beside her. He gave her a side-eyed glance, his eyes flicking over her face and around her eye, noticing the smudged blue tint.

“Perhaps not the sawing in half. A bit too gruesome for my taste. I quite like you in one piece.-“

He said, his voice quiet but filled with mirth.

His eyes fell onto her makeup mishap, and he tilted his head curiously. He hesitated for half a second, then he found himself moving towards her. He felt like he was acting on instinct, no logic behind why he was suddenly standing in front of her. His fingers found their way to her cheek, his calloused thumb gently rubbing over the smudged makeup on her skin. If anyone saw them, there was probably a million different conclusions jumping into their heads, but Remus couldn’t be bothered with any of it.

It was one of the most intimate things anyone had ever done to her, despite it all. The simplicity, the innocence of it. It forced her to look him in the eyes, to soak in the warmth of his thumb and melt into it.

“You’re too good to me, Moons-“

She whispered, dancing her honeyed orbs between each of his earthy pools.

“You couldn’t even saw me in half?-“

She spoke again, unable to stop herself from spilling.

Remus’ entire being seemed to be hyper-focused on the feeling of her skin against his fingers.

“Maybe if you asked nice-“

He murmured in reply, his voice rough and raspy but dripping with genuine affection.

“Nah. Not even for money.-“

He added. He hadn’t really meant to do any more than fix her makeup, but the thought of pulling back now made his heart ache. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, staring down into her eyes, his thumb gently rubbing over her skin.

“Perhaps you have some kind of voodoo over me, you’ve put a spell on me or something.-“

He joked, his words only half true.

“And change the way you think? Never-“

Juno quipped, far too in love with his mind to even consider the option.

That’s how she knew she couldn’t be that selfish, or desperate. There was nothing more terrifying than losing him. Than losing this.

The night only became colder, nipping her nose and slicing her lungs with every inhale.

“Let’s go inside, yeah?-“

His eyes flickered over her face, taking in every small twitch of eyebrow and corner of the mouth, every tiny detail that made her who she was.

He felt as she shivered. He let his hand drop slowly from her face, grabbing her hand instead, his fingers intertwining with hers and almost recoiling from the frostbite.

“You’re freezing.”

He started to walk slowly, hand in hers, the warmth of his grip probably the only thing keeping her from turning into a popsicle.

He had a clear destination in mind. The Astronomy tower. He would take her up there, and they could sit under the stars, next to the muggle space heater Juno had managed to knick from her parents and enchant to ensure no electricity was needed.

‘Smart girl.’

Perhaps it was a cliche, in fact it definitely was. He loved the stars, and he didn’t fear the moon when she was around.

Juno’s leather shoes clipped against the marble floors leading to the Astronomy tower, her fingers clenching and unclenching in Remus’ large hand.

“Gods, so predictable, Moony-“

She teased, ducking her head down to slip herself through the small doorway. It was empty, dead as summer. The telescopes unused and rusted during the winter season.

Remus let go of her hand, and instead took a seat on the cold floor, his back leaned against the wall as he looked out over the breathtaking view. The night was clear, the sky full of endless stars. It was mesmerizing.

He patted the floor beside him, looking over at her, the smile still on his face, an encouraging look in his eyes. He wanted her closer, wanted to have her next to him, as close as space would allow.

“Turn that thing on, would you?-“

He said softly, his voice low in the dark of the tower.

Remus didn’t have to tell her twice.

Juno manoeuvred herself closer, swallowing her heightened heartbeat hoping to muffle the ache. She slid down the wall until her backside touched the floor, pulling her knees close to her chest before letting the leg closest to Remus flop down, resting against his thigh as she swished her wand, igniting the radiated heat.

“It’s nice,”

She started to speak, allowing the rough wool of his sweater to itch against her skin happily. What was nice? Gods, so many things about this were nice.

Remus felt her settle down beside him, her body heat seeping into him through their close proximity, and he had to force down a shiver before he spoke again, humming in agreement.

“It is. It’s very nice-“

He agreed, his voice almost a whisper.

He took his eyes away from the stars, slowly turning his head to look at her instead. She was so close. He could see the way her freckles were sprinkled over her face like glitter, and the way copper strands of hair fell across her forehead. Her eyelashes were like little brushstrokes, dark against her skin, creating shadows on her pale skin. Her eyes, those golden eyes…

He felt the ache in his chest return, more insistently than last time.

Remus’ gaze was felt before it was seen, burning into the skin of her right cheekbone, slowly flowing down the expanse of her neck and collarbone. He could burn her all he liked. He had been burning her for years.

“Thanks for waking me, in the library-“

Juno whispered, digits idly fiddling with the flesh of Remus’ knuckles, like it was a normal thing for friends to do. God, what was normal? Anything? Really?

Remus felt himself shiver, just a slight one, when she started fiddling with his hand, her fingertips gently tracing the skin. Why did he let her do this? Why was he letting her toy with his heart the way she did? Why was he enjoying it so much? Why did he want her closer until he couldn’t breathe anymore?

Why couldn’t he get her out of his damn nightmares?

“I- Uhm… It was getting late, I just- I-“

He mumbled, his voice catching in his throat.

He stumbled over his words, something he hadn’t done in years until this night. He was always cool and collected, he never stuttered, he always knew what to say. Not with fucking pretty girls, but- Why was he stumbling over himself now? Stuttering and mumbling like he was fifteen and had just discovered that the girl he liked existed. So stupid. He felt like he was fifteen. He felt like he was fifteen and utterly lovestruck and scared to death.

Juno knew him. She knew him like she knew how Butterbeer was far too sweet and how loud Sirius shrieked when he seen a spider. But surely, the heavens above would have told her what was chewing him up.

Either that or she was just plain blind. In denial. Maybe both.

“Moons?-“

She spoke, unbeknownst to her until she heard her own voice. She was looking at him now, drinking in the sight of him.

“Is the moon making you queasy?-“

Remus let himself look at her, taking in her freckled face and her wild hair and her lips, the way her lips moved around those words, around the nickname.

He chuckled lightly at her question, though it was quiet and forced, a weak attempt at normalcy.

“I feel like I’m going crazy...”

He mumbled without thinking. He cursed under his breath, his eyes widening a little as the confession slipped out. It wasn’t meant for her to hear, yet it had. He didn’t think before he spoke, his brain was just a big jumbled mess at this point. It was all her fault.

The air went still, like every gust of wind ceased to exist in the moonlight. Juno’s digits ceased their actions alongside it, her brows being the only thing to move, furrowing in response to Remus’ confession. But what exactly was he confessing to? Feeling mental? Everyone feels a little mental sometimes.

“Crazy?-“

Juno queried, leaving the moon behind to look at Remus. The money she would pay to sneak a peek into his mind was abysmal. Maybe she felt crazy, too.

“It’s not even half full-“

She spoke, pointing at the crescent moon.

He let out a soft chuckle, feeling how the air was thick between them, a heavy burden on his chest. He looked up at the moon, trying to look away from her, looking at the stars and the night sky instead.

His voice was quiet, barely a whisper as he spoke again. He had already slipped up, he wasn’t sure that he could handle it again.

“It’s not the moon-“

He mumbled, his eyes tracing endless constellations in the night sky. Visions of her back flooded his mind, taunting him.

He let out a slow, shaky breath, before finally turning to look at her again. He swallowed hard, his jaw clenched shut as he slowly spoke, his voice low and rough, and just above a whisper.

“I can’t even describe it-“

He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut and letting his head fall back against the stone wall behind him, his fingers clenching into fists in his lap, the knuckles white from exertion.

Why could he never say what he wanted? Why couldn’t he talk to her? He was a poet, for merlin’s sake, he should be able to find the words.

Remus was so full of life. So human. Not even his affliction could take that out of him. Or the ivory fangs, the large talons.

Juno wanted to write a book about him, or a song. She wanted to drink from his glass and leave a cherry red lipstick mark on the rim, and maybe then he’d kiss her when he was thirsty.

“If you don’t describe it, it’s lost to the void-“

She whispered, nudging his broad shoulder with her upper arm.

A shiver went down Remus’ spine at the touch, a breath being forced from his lungs as he felt the touch through his sweater. God, her touch was intoxicating.

He let out a dry, humorless chuckle at her words, tilting his head down a little so that his eyes met hers again. There was something in his gaze, something desperate, something panicked, something vulnerable.

“You’ll hate me for it-“

He mumbled, the words falling from his lips before he had a chance to stop himself. His voice was rough as he spoke, his eyes flickering over her face, watching her reaction, searching for a trace of something in the golden depths of her. Anything, a sign, anything that he could cling to that could tell him what she was thinking, feeling, how she would react when he told her.

The longer Juno stared back, the less she thought she knew him. He was carefree, light and focused, a stark difference to what she was looking at now. Nothing ever bothered him. Nothing was ever too serious, too hard. He stitched his own wounds with a steady hand every full moon, biting on a cloth so he wouldn’t wake the other boys.

She returned to the surface of her mind, shaking her head as she kicked off her shoes, letting them clatter to the side.

“Well, you know that’s not true, Lupin-“

He couldn’t focus on her words, every sound being swallowed by the roar of his own heart in his ears. He could only look at her. Look at the way she tilted her head, the way her hair moved with the slight action, the way her eyes bore into his with so much conviction.

His eyes followed her as she kicked off her shoes, taking in the way her skirt rode up a little in the process, and the glimpse of skin that was revealed.

“You don’t know that-“

He mumbled, his voice cracking.

“I know that, so uncomfortably well-“

Juno almost cut him off on his last syllables, injecting her words into the atmosphere.

“Something is eating you and I want to hear about it,”

She encouraged, stomach clenching at the puppy dog expression Remus seemed to sport on his face like it would cost too much to use it again. Getting his moneys worth.

Remus swallowed hard, looking down at his hands in his lap, watching how they trembled involuntarily, a nervous tick of his. He couldn’t see her eyes on him, feel the way she was watching him so intently, looking right through him, right into the darkest parts of him.

He knew he should stop while he could. Stop now and there was a chance that they could still be something that resembled friends. He needed to stop.

‘Stop. Now.’

He drew in a shaky breath, his shoulders hunch and tense as he looked up at her again, his eyes meeting hers, almost immediately regretting the move, like a shitty game of chess. She looked so open, so vulnerable, in a way that he’d never really seen her before.

Maybe he could try. Maybe he could be completely honest with her, and just tell her how he felt, confess everything, tell her what she did to him, how she made him feel. His heart was thudding so fast now it felt like a small bird trying to break free from a prison made of ribs. His hands were sweating. He forced in another shaky breath.

It hit him in that moment. That sudden realization. The cold, hard truth. It felt like a bucket of ice cold water, like he had been doused by it completely.

He was in love with her. All the way, 100%, helplessly in love with her.

At this point, Juno was on edge. Remus had pulled her all the way to the edge, far enough to see the waves below the cliff side, at least.

‘Gods, give me your pain, I’ll take it. Nothing hurts that much, right?’

She thought, running her tongue against her molars.

She didn’t say anything, this wasn’t about her. She didn’t need to make it about her. She lifted her pointer finger, circling the space on her chest where her heart lay underneath, watching Remus’ pupils on their travels. A silent voice, something that said ‘Say it, I dare you.’

Remus’ watched the movement, slow and graceful like the wave of a wand, yet powerful in its simplicity, in its silent message. He felt a shiver go down his spine, his eyes fixated on her hand, moving in slow circles on her chest.

‘I’ll carry it for you.’

The mere thought of speaking made him want to break down, run away and never look back. Fall sleep in the Shrieking Shack. Yet her eyes, her eyes were pulling him in, looking at him with so much earnest, telling him that he could. That she wanted him to.

And who was he to deny her what she asked for?

“I’m so fucking in love with you-“

Silence, ominous. Comical.

Suddenly, Juno’s head felt like a microwave oven. She wasn’t sure if her heart was even working. Maybe she had passed out from dehydration, or Sirius’ iconic parties have slowly turned her eardrums to mush.

She knew she was alive and breathing when she swallowed the saliva that had pooled in her mouth, amber irises focusing on Remus’ face.

“You’re so fucking what?-“

She asked, almost breathlessly, attempting to avoid her own expression in Remus’ glasses, focusing on the scar indented into his jaw instead.

Remus couldn’t help the breathless, almost humorless chuckle that escaped past his lips at her question, or the nervous smirk that spread across his face.

He had done it. He’d said it out loud. He should throw himself a party.

“I said, I’m so fucking in love with you-“

He repeated it again, each word spoken with a newfound confidence.

Now that the words had finally left his lips, he found that he didn’t want to stop saying them. He wanted to repeat the words, over and over, again and again, until they had burned a permanent mark on her heart, on her mind, on her soul, so that she would never forget, never doubt it.

If Amortentia was a feeling, this was it. Like the weeds had been plucked from Juno’s guts.

“Like, as friends?-“

She spoke, wide eyed and innocent.

She wasn’t bloody stupid, of course it wasn’t as friends. Well, it was, at some point. But not now. She had never felt more alive, like she was enough for somebody. For him.

Remus held her gaze, a flicker of amusement in his eyes at her question, the barest hint of a smirk on his thin lips. He wasn’t buying her innocent act. He let out a low, breathless chuckle, letting his head fall back against the wall, a soft thud sounding in the silence, as if to say ’really?’

“Like friends? You wanna play that game?”

He asked, a hint of a challenge in his voice. It was fun, trying to read each other.

“I’m so fucking kidding-“

Juno rushed the words out, orbs becoming half lidded as she quickly tilted her head the right way, capturing his lips between her own before she had a chance to hesitate, to question herself.

Suddenly, it was a rainy Sunday that kissed her lips, the taste of him like coffee after a large meal. The feeling went straight to her brain, dopamine in a nostalgic sense suffocating their friendship.

Screw it. They could call it something else now.

Remus’ eyes fluttered shut immediately at the touch, his breath hitching in his chest, his heart stuttering for a beat. Her lips were as soft as they looked, and he felt as if he were drowning in the feeling, as if he was sinking deeper and deeper into it, and he would willingly let it happen. He was quick to respond, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her closer, one hand burying itself in her hair.

It was a messy kiss, not really well thought out, but it was perfect, she was perfect.

She should have been gentler, graceful like a lady. How could she be soft when her emotions were so loud? Juno pulled away, just enough to breathe in Remus’ velvet breath, saliva mixed like a dangerous cocktail. She rested her freckled nose against Remus’ cheekbone, face flushed and heated.

“Did that feel right? For you?-“

She asked, an Irish whisper ghosting over Remus’ skin.

Remus let out a low, soft noise, a sound somewhere between a moan and a scoff when she pulled away.

“God, yes-“

He muttered, his voice coming out as a hoarse whisper. He tilted his head to the side, his nose brushing against her jaw. He was practically clinging to her now, like she was an anchor, and he was a wrecked ship bobbing around in the open sea.

Juno wondered if he had ever been kissed like that, or even kissed at all. Remus was never one to brag like the other Marauders, like James and his plum coloured love bites or Lily’s sheepish grin.

She ceased her thinking, Remus’ proximity like white noise radiating through her body.

“I love you, too-“

She whispered, talking into his messy, mahogany hair, fingers fisting his charity shop sweater.

“Not like a friend-“

She added, for the mere purpose of clarification.

Remus’ hold on her tightened, his grip firm and secure. He was holding on with everything he had, as if he was scared she’d disappear if he loosened it. The feeling of her breath against his hair, the sound of her voice, the words that had escaped her lips in that quiet, soft tone. It was everything he had ever wanted to hear, and more.

He pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the skin of her neck, his eyes fluttering shut again as the words left his lips in a low whisper.

“I’m all yours."

Juno moaned, shamelessly.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time-“

She muttered, the cold air haunting the moistened skin of her throat from Remus’ kiss as she dipped her head to meet him once more.

He tasted like a firework, like cinnamon and coffee creamer.

The way her tongue slipped into his mouth would put a Slytherin to shame, her wet serpent scraping the inside of his cheek. Maybe it was too dirty, or filthy, the way she slipped her milky thighs on either side of Remus’ lap, resting against him completely as her ginger hair tickled his face. Let the gods strike her down if it was.

Remus groaned at the sound of her moan, low and guttural, desperate and needy. He wanted to fuck her right then and there, the sound alone sending a wave of burning desire through him. Her weight in his lap made it hard to think, to focus, all his senses screaming for her.

He gripped her thighs, holding her against him, his hands slipping under her skirt. His fingers dug into her soft skin, a possessive move that he knew he would have to apologize for later. But right now, all he could focus on was her, the feeling of her skin, the heat that was radiating from her body, the way her lips felt against his and her tongue in his mouth, hot and wet and messy.

If Juno’s arousal hadn’t peaked hours ago by simply looking at him, it damn sure had now. Her abdomen clenched, lust driven by pure infatuation. Raw emotion. She knew it from the way her pussy had slicked, moist and sensitive against her underwear and Remus’ tented groin.

She whined involuntarily, digits twitching against the hem of Remus’ sweater. She didn’t even recognise herself. It was like she was someone else, living her perfect reality from the outside.

“Bloody hell, Moons-“

She muttered, not giving a single damn about their surroundings.

Remus’ breathing was picking up in speed, his hands roaming over her skin, mapping it like charting the stars, committing the feeling of her to memory. No words left his lips, only ragged breaths and soft moans and a litany of sweet, sweet curses that fell like prayer from his lips.

“F-fuck, Juno-“

He growled, lips finding purchase against her neck. He knew they were outside, and that anyone could find them any second. The thought of getting caught like this, with her in his lap, on display for anyone to see, was only fueling his fire.

His hands gripped her harder, almost painfully tight, as he left a trail of dark, purple marks down her neck and collarbones, marking his territory like a wild animal would claim their mate.

Never in Juno’s entire existence did she believe love could feel this good. This rich. She felt like putty in his large hands, or the quill she had bought him for his birthday that lived between his fingers.

She shuddered, shoulders slumping as she returned the favour, reddened lips assaulting Remus’ throat, fingers tilting his jaw back to lick around his Adam’s apple.

“Tell me-“

She swallowed, slipping her hands up his sweater to rest upon the toned surface of his stomach.

“Tell me what you like-“

In other words, ‘I want to please you. Help me do that.’

Remus was losing himself, drowning in the sensations that came from her touch. His head fell back, baring his neck for her, the sound of her voice in his ear driving him near insane, like Azkaban was as close as the corner shop to his home back in Wales.

He couldn’t formulate words, not like this. And she hadn’t even really been doing anything yet, and still he was already drowning in her, like a man on the brink of death in the desert.

“I.. F-fuck, I like a lot of things-“

He said between breaths. His words cut off by a shaky moan, his eyes rolling back for a quick moment at the feeling of her hands against his stomach. It was too much, and yet not enough at all.

He gripped her hips, pulling her down against his lap, forcing her to press against the growing bulge in his trousers, his hips rolling up into hers in a desperate attempt to get friction. The action caused him to let out a low hiss, his head rolling back against the wall again.

Juno could make an endless list of all the things he liked, in a normal sense. Christmas shopping, French fancies, chocolate. Gods, anything sweet. Such a big fucking kid.

Her thoughts were struck by lightning as her arousal ground against Remus’, the contact shooting pleasure into her veins like a junkie. The moan she choked out was ragged, far from anything innocent.

“S-Shit, Remus-“

She stammered, suddenly a virgin all over again.

Remus couldn’t think straight. The thoughts in his mind had dissolved into a haze, overwhelmed by the ecstasy that her body was sending through him. She was going to be the death of him, he swore it.

The sound of her voice calling his name was enough to make his blood run hot, and he pulled her harder against him, grinding his hips up against hers again, the heat between them burning like a forest fire.

“F-fuck-“

He muttered, his teeth finding her shoulder again. He needed her. Now.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold back, being with her like this. He was so desperate, like if he didn’t have all of her, he’d die. The wolf in him would starve.

“Tell me-“

His voice was low and raspy, filled with desire.

“Tell me I can have you-“

Remus’ words only served to completely ruin Juno’s favourite pair of underwear, turquoise and lacy. The fabric most certainly darkened and damp. He was ruining her, scarring her soul for eternity. Hells, all those shitty books were right-

She nodded almost violently, breathing harsh and unsteady.

“Have it a-all,”

She whined, wanton and parched, digits tugging at his sweater.

“Take it off-“

She whispered incoherently.

Remus’ pulled his sweater off in a quick, desperate motion, tossing it to the floor carelessly, his glasses getting lost in the battle, not even bothering to think about where they landed. They were for distance, anyways. Nothing distant about this. He just needed them off.

His hands were on her again immediately, tracing the skin of her back, finding the zipper of her skirt and pulling it down, before his hands moved to the buttons of her blouse. His fingers had no trouble working the buttons, and he all but tore the fabric off of her when they were all opened, his eyes going dark at the sight of her in just her bra and panties.

His hands traced the skin of her stomach, slowly moving up to her chest, finding the lace fabric of her bra and fumbling with it before managing to get it unclasped. He took a moment just to admire her, his gaze roaming over her body, taking her all in, every inch of her.

“You’re so beautiful. God, you’re so beautiful..”

He whispered, his eyes roaming up to her face, his hands tracing a path over her thighs.

Juno didn’t even care that she was almost naked, that Remus’ warm eyes baked her bare skin in what felt like sunlight beneath the stars. Not when her own eyes, dilated and blown, admired every single silver scar etched into his torso like traumatic artwork.

Her breathing slowed, the chill of the February air caressing her breasts. If she was beautiful, Remus was magnificent. Magic.

Goosebumps formed on her thighs underneath Remus’ large hands, as she finally uncorked her mouth.

“Have you ever done this before, Moons?-“

Remus swallowed, shaking his head slightly as his hands continued tracing her skin. She was so soft, so warm. And her eyes roamed over his body like he was something special, like she truly found him enchanting.

Her question made the heat he was feeling turn into a blush that spread from his neck to his face, his breathing coming out in shaky exhales. He tried to speak, but all that left his lips was a shaky, low,

“No.”

He’d been with girls before. A few snogs here and there, and one or two of them had come close to going further, hand in the trousers, but it hadn’t happened. It had never gone that far.

“I’ve never…”

He started, his voice rough, almost hoarse.

“I’ve never done this before..”

He finally managed to get the words out, the confession leaving his lips in a shaky breath.

Gods above, if they even existed-

Juno had to refrain from smiling, padlocking the corners of her lips and maintaining the look of awe that she currently possessed.

Of course he hadn’t. He’s too good. Such a god damn gentlemen, was she even worthy of it?

“You’re killing me-“

She whispered, shaking her head all the while. It was an unconscious action, the way her hand lightly grasped his own and placed it around her right breast.

Remus’ breath hitched again as he felt the weight of her breast in his palm, his thumb starting to move slowly on its own, running over her breast, against her rose bud nipple, before repeating the movement.

“You’re perfect.”

He muttered, his voice almost cracking at the sound. No words could describe how she made him feel, how her very existence left him speechless. His other hand moved to caress her other breast, gently squeezing them in his palms. He was trying to keep himself from going wild, from letting the last bit of self control he had left drop completely, all while trying to not act as inexperienced as he truly was.

He had to stop talking to her like she had been the first to put petals on flowers, like he was threatening to inflate her ego that had been smooshed into the dirt for so long.

Juno’s mind silenced, distracting herself with the gentle moans that tumbled past her open mouth, before muffling the sound against Remus’ throat, tasting his salty skin.

“I’ve had d-dreams about this-“

She whispered, cursing herself for her futile words. This wasn’t the time for talking, but his voice was her favourite song. She wanted him to keep fucking singing-

Remus had to hold back an outright moan at her words, her confession, the thought that she had been thinking about him like this making his hard cock twitch in his pants. He let his hand move once more, down her stomach, finding the lace of her turquoise panties and gently pushing down on them, a silent question.

“You have?”

He asked, trying to push the words out through the haze that was making him dizzy. His hand went to the waistband of her panties, his fingers slipping under the lace, playing with the hem, his whole body screaming at him to just take them off and be done with it, yet he waited, holding himself back from doing it until he was absolutely sure she wanted it to.

His other hand went up to her hair, tangling his fingers in her ginger locks, gently gripping them in frustration, trying to keep his desires at bay.

“Show me. Show me how you dreamed about me.”

He muttered, his voice low and hoarse.

The sound that left Juno’s throat was more than unholy, it was down right sinful. She felt his fingers tickling her pubic bone, mere inches away from her blazing, throbbing flesh. She wanted him to notice the mess she had made of herself, the mess that he had made of her.

She swallowed, inhaling sharply through her nose, allowing her fingers to explore the wilderness of Remus’ tense stomach, kissing his scars with her fingertips until her nails clinked against the metal buckle of his belt.

“C-Could never say no to you-“

Juno whimpered, unsure if she had ever felt this desperate for anything.

Remus bit down on her shoulder to keep himself from letting out a moan. His hips bucked at the sound of her voice as she spoke, a shaky breath leaving his mouth. He felt like he was losing his mind, like the last bit of self control he had left was about to disappear completely.

“Take it, take it off-”

He muttered between breaths. He couldn’t wait any longer. The sight of her sitting in his lap, half naked, the sound of her voice saying his name, it was too much.

He fumbled with the buckle of his belt impatiently, struggling to unclasp it as his hands shook, before finally managing to get the damn thing open and pushing his trousers down his legs, lifting his hips. The feeling of his own clothes against his leaking cock was unbearable, only making his desperation grow even more.

He let out a low hiss at the feeling of his aching hardness against the heat of her, his head immediately falling back to rest against the wall again, his eyes closing for a brief moment to try and regain some control.

Tell another joke.

Nothing could have prepared Juno for the sight, throbbing and raw and red-

Huge. Like a fucking candy apple.

Her breath hitched in her throat, seeing him like this. She could only imagine the look on her face, unfiltered and genuine.

“Bloody h-hell Remus-“

She spoke as her voice cracked, digits slipping into the soaked material of her underwear as she manoeuvred her thighs accordingly to slip out of them, the fabric stinging against her sensitive flesh.

Remus was already gone. She was all he could think about, all he could feel. He felt her body move against him, and he opened his eyes again to look at her, watching her as her slender fingers moved against her skin, tossing her panties to the side like they were the only thing in the world that was keeping her from him.

“God, Juno…”

He mumbled, his voice almost shaking as he looked at her, his hands gripping her hips tightly as his blown pupils zeroed in on her slick flesh. Fucking delicious.

His eyes were roaming over her body as she sat there in his lap, her bare skin against his, and he once more felt like cursing God for making her the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful. You have no idea how good you look right now.”

He muttered, not even caring about the words coming out of his mouth.

To be the light in Remus’ eyes was more than a pleasure in itself, dopamine flooding her belly and swishing around for the fun of it. Like a high, a better high than any sort of spliff. There they were, as bare as the day they were born, just like nature had intended.

“I-“

Juno stuttered, enveloping her fingers into Remus’ messy brown hair, watching the way his throat bobbed.

“I think I’ll die if you don’t touch me-“

She confessed, dangerous and needy.

“I got you, I got you-“

He mumbled, repeating the words as he reached down between them, wrapping his fingers around his own veiny length as he tried to steady himself enough to guide himself to her.

“I’m gonna touch you, don’t you worry-”

Juno wasn’t fucking worried.

The words were barely out of his mouth before his hands were on her again, caressing her thighs, holding her in place as he pushed his hips up a bit, trying to find the right angle.

“Please, please-“

He was shaking, so damn nervous and yet desperate for her, needing her so badly he was about to lose his mind completely. He tried to steady his breathing, his words shaking a bit as he spoke.

“Just- just tell me you’re ready.”

Juno couldn’t let him go on like this any longer, second guessing and pushing away his own needs like he did every single second of his life. Everyday, giving up his seat and letting his coffee go cold for someone else.

She just wanted him to look after himself. To value himself. God, they were fucking perfect for each other in that way.

Words were futile, Juno had decided, as she let herself sink down slowly onto him, stretching herself out for him until she had made it halfway.

Foreplay was overrated.

“F-Fuck!-“

She cursed, fingernails painting Remus’ broad shoulders with crescent moons.

He was not prepared, at all. His eyes slammed shut as soon as he felt her around him, sinking on him so damn slowly, the feeling as she wrapped around him like a vice driving him mad in the most wonderful way. A moan escaped his lips, low and shaky as her nails scratched across his skin.

He couldn’t keep his hips still, a curse leaving his lips as he tried and failed to just stay motionless. As if by magic, it felt like her body was made for him, molded just to fit him, and him alone.

He opened his eyes after a few seconds, forcing himself to just look at her, to see her, the most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Her head was thrown back, eyes shut, pink in the cheeks and a string of curses leaving her lips as she adjusted to the feeling of him inside her. The sight almost made him cum on the spot, a ragged breath leaving his mouth.

“Look at me, look at me-”

He mumbled, trying to bring back his voice long enough to speak. His hand came up again, grabbing her chin and pulling her face back down so their eyes could lock back together.

Soulmates are a bunch of hogwash, right? Just something people believe in to feel better, more at peace when they’ve felt empty for too long. Juno was being converted at the speed of light.

Her eyes met his, with a depth she wouldn’t have dared to swim to before. And by the gods, was he the most magical thing she had ever seen.

“W-Whatever you want-“

She choked out, accent muted in the bliss as the scent of their combined arousals filled her senses.

“Just say it, Moons-“

Her hips jerked, untethered to the bounds of anxiety and fear, as she slowly started riding him. Slick. Soaked.

Remus’ eyes darkened as he looked at her, watching her ride him in desperate, shaky movements. He was trying hard to keep his composure, to hold back and not lose control of himself completely, but goddamn it was hard, when all he wanted to do was give her everything he had to give.

“God, I need-“

He tried to say, but the rest slipped right out of his head as he felt her walls clenching around him, his head once more falling back against the wall with a thunk.

Words weren’t coming anymore, or at least ones that made sense, so instead Remus wrapped an arm around her, grabbing her hips and keeping her in place, holding her firmly in his lap, her body flush his chest. He couldn’t look away from her as he planted his feet flat onto the concrete floor, finding the leverage he needed to begin meeting her movements with his own, his hips thrusting up into her as he moved.

He was falling apart, losing control, the only thing he could think about being how good she felt around him, how tight she was. Every sound coming out of her mouth making him push himself to give her even more, to drive even deeper, to just try and give her everything he could, anything she wanted.

“You like that, sweetheart?”

He managed to ask, his voice sounding absolutely wrecked, almost not even recognising himself.

The pang of ecstasy and pleasure almost pierced Juno’s guts at the sound of him, the innocence of his words, groundbreaking and oh so Remus.

She cried out, choking into Remus’ cheekbone.

“Love it-“

She whined, not a care in the world at this point as the sound of skin meeting skin was her new favourite tempo. She could feel the sting of her kneecaps scraping against the harsh flooring, her juices sticking to her reddened skin.

“Don’t stop- please don’t stop-“

She sounded like she was about to burst into tears at the weight of it.

Remus didn’t think he could stop if he wanted to. Her words were driving him completely insane, the sound of her voice filling his ears, the need to hear more, to hear her fall apart just for him.

“God, don’t cry, please, I got you-”

He muttered, holding her even tighter, one of his hands coming up to cup her face, his thumb gently wiping away the tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m not gonna stop, I promise, I’m not gonna stop-”

Juno was so blissed out she didn’t even realise the tears had fell until Remus wiped them away, smudging her makeup like he always did. Even now. She didn’t even have time to feel pathetic, as every stuttered thrust from him hit that gooey spot inside of her, causing her stomach to clench and her thighs to tremble.

“Y-You’re making me cum-“

She spoke the words urgently, like she couldn’t get there quickly enough.

“Remus!-“

She cried out, strained and broken as she fell apart in his lap, in his large hands. Her safe place, clinging to him like a childhood teddy bear.

He could feel her clenching around him tightly, her body shaking and trembling, trying to keep itself together, and he had to bite back a cry of his own, feeling her fall apart in his arms, around his length, driving him to the very edge.

“F-Fuck yes-“

He choked out, his hold tightening as he tried to hold back, his hips still working, driving into her.

“God, yes-“

He breathed out, struggling to form the words.

“So- so beautiful-”

He could feel her body trembling against his own, the way her walls clenched around him, bringing him ever closer. His breathing was getting faster, more intense, and he knew that he couldn’t hold back anymore.

“Gods, I’m gonna-”

He gritted out the words, his hands gripping her hips so hard they would probably leave imprints of his thumb prints. He couldn’t stop moving, his body moving on autopilot, chasing his release.

“Do it-“

Juno begged, point blank and purposeful. Careful wasn’t in her deck of cards tonight, she could think about that later.

She rode out the aftershocks, chest catching with labouring breaths as she grasped Remus’ by the jaw, anchoring him to look at her like she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Look at me and finish, Moons-“

Juno whispered, whining at the overstimulation of her fluttering flesh.

Remus’ entire body felt tense, like a string being pulled taunt, pulled to the breaking point but not yet snapping. The sight of her face, still flush from her release, her voice pleading, and the words that left her mouth sent him over the edge, his hips stuttering one final time as he buried himself as deep inside her as he could, coming apart and shooting ropes with a shaking moan that bordered on a soft cry.

His body immediately went slack afterward, the strength leaving his body completely as he leaned back against the wall, taking her with him. He slowly let go of her hips, not sure if his hands could be trusted not to hurt her, bringing them up to run through her hair instead as he tried and failed to slow his racing heart.

What was there to say? What was there to say when Juno could feel his release trickling out of her like a leaking tap, hot and wet against her reddened inner thighs? Juno didn’t know.

She slumped against him, freckled cheek indenting into Remus’ shoulder like it had many times before. His fingers in her hair, enough to remind her that he was still him, and nothing had changed.

“Hey, Moony.”

She whispered, amber eyes shut.

He hummed softly in response to her call, letting his hands run gently over her back, tracing the bumps of her spine and the shape of her shoulders as he focused on her.

“Hi, Juno.”

He mumbled into her hair, tilting his head slightly to bury his nose into the locks, inhaling her scent and letting it fill his head, like a drug that didn’t wear off, like a sweet fix that he didn’t want to let go of.

‘Thanks for waking me, in the library.’

[silverzoomies]

Honeysuckle

peter Maximoff x reader smut

chapter 2: later gator

warnings: female reader (sorry), sex pollen, aphrodisiacs, overstimulation, shameless smut, rough sex, kissing, porn with (slight) plot, canon divergence

word count: 5142

a/n: to anyone who reads, thank you for enabling my deranged bullshit,, ilysm

some more notes regarding canon divergence: idfk where peter's house was originally supposed to be set (in dofp). but in this fic, pretend it's in westchester. got it? good. also, i love the concept of pietro being his birth name so much, i had to throw it in,,

chapter 1 here.

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You showed up to Peter’s (his mom’s) doorstep a little less than an hour later. 

Now, Peter personally thought you could’ve been a lot quicker about it (what if he was dying?? Like, yeah, he sort of was). Whether he thought this because of his natural impatience, or his rambunctious, horny brain; he couldn’t tell. But Peter knew he didn’t have any right to complain. Considering the-uh…circumstances. You were the one doing him a favor.

Even if you didn’t necessarily know about said favor yet.

Raising your fist to knock at the front door, your knuckles didn’t get a chance to make contact. In less than a nanosecond’s time, you found yourself behind an entirely different door. The door to the basement. Peter’s basement (well, technically, his mom’s. But let’s ignore the logistics, he thought).

The door slammed shut behind you with an abrupt rattle. Your back was pressed hard against an amalgamation of Star Wars posters covering it, as Peter kept you trapped before him. And you stood at the very top of the basement stairs. A large hand of his clasped over your mouth, just in case you felt the need to freak out. At least his mom wasn't home to overhear anything if you did. Thank the high powers for impromptu, grocery trips.

His toned, shirtless body idled a little too close to yours. Leaning into your personal space further than he normally would. Peter was perched one or two steps down from you, keeping his head tilted up. He blinked with a dark, half-lidded gaze. And he stared into your questioning eyes with a heavy intensity. You were caged in. With his other hand next to your face, pressed flat against the door.

Peter panted breathlessly. He was an exasperated mess of burning heat and steaming sweat. Sweat which reeked of a sickly sweet smell you didn’t recognize. And you assumed it to be…perfume? Or something? You really couldn’t guess. Whatever it was, it threw you for a loop. As the sweet scent met your nose, a pleasant chill surged along your spine. Peter was so intoxicating.

Peter’s cheeks burned the brightest shade of red you’d ever seen on him. And you noticed, in his eyes, Peter’s pupils appeared impossibly big. Both were a stunning, black abyss of carnal desire.

You didn’t seem to pick up on that desire, however.

“Hey.” Peter huffed with a casual, lazy smirk. Breathless when he spoke. As he pulled his hand from your mouth, a subtle, lingering sweetness clung to your lips. You furrowed your brows, giving him a confused look. “Uhm…hi?” You shook your head, smiling uneasily with a laugh, “Are you, like, okay, dude? You look like a mess! What was up with that text, by the way? Are you sick?”

Peter blinked in a hazy, sweltering daze. And he promptly shook his head. He impatiently drummed his speedy fingers with the hand pressed against the door.

“Huh? Nah, I’m-...I’m totally bitchin’, babe. Just-” A pause, and Peter’s bright blush spread to the tips of his ears, “Actually…if I can keep it real fer a sec? I’m-uh…I don’t really feel like myself right now.”

His statement made you even more concerned. He could tell in the way your expression shifted. Your brows pressed together further, and your worried smile fell into a small frown. The rational part of Peter’s brain ached with shame, his heart twisting at the sight. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

But the spicier portion of his brain found your innocence way more arousing than it should’ve been. Peter slapped himself internally. Chill out, dude. Don’t be gross.

“What do you mean? Not yourself? You seem fine to me. A little sweaty, and maybe a little tired. But otherwise…” You forced a lighthearted smile, reaching out to ruffle his hair, “Same ol’ Peter.”

Peter’s heart raced to roadrunner speed in his chest, pounding rapidly. God, you were too cute. With his bangs hanging messily in his face, he let his eyes roam across your features. So soft, and so nice. An echoing voice in the far, dark recesses of his rampantly horny mind screamed at him. Begging Peter to take you right then and there on the basement stairs.

But Peter was conscious enough, that he cringed at himself for even daring to consider such a warped thought. 

“It's nothin’. Don’t worry ‘bout me, kay? Probably just comin’ down with somethin’.” He lied, feigning a chillaxed grin, “Like ya said, same ol’ Peter.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight from foot to foot. If the look on your face was anything to go by; Peter knew for sure, you could see right through his bullshit. Aside from the fact that you knew him well enough? At the moment, Peter was as transparent as the shattered glass he left on the floor of Hank’s lab. 

Peter guiltily dropped his gaze from your face, and to your belly. But as his eyes dragged slowly downward, he instantly regretted this action. Prior to this moment, Peter hadn’t noticed what you were wearing. He’d been in too quick a rush to drag you into the basement. 

A tight, crop top hugged your upper body, leaving your belly exposed. The mere sight of your bare skin almost made him bust a nut in his sweatpants. Peter swallowed hard, and that honeysuckle sweetness sank down his throat. He coughed, and drummed his fingers a little faster against the door.

“Uh huh? Are you sure?” You asked, reaching up to brush Peter’s bangs out of his eyes.

At that moment, a hot, sticky wave of sexually charged static shot through Peter’s veins. He dropped his head, the messy fluff of his hair meeting your tummy. With both hands now pressed to the door on either side of you, Peter’s fingernails dug into it. He huffed a desperate laugh, and shook his head.

“Toooootally aces, babe.”

You rolled your eyes with a playful, but concerned scoff.

“Hey, Peter, seriously. Talk to me, okay? What’s wrong?”

Your tone was as sweet as the sugary taste on Peter’s tongue. Enough to give him a toothache. And in a comforting gesture, totally innocent; you brought a gentle hand up to his shoulder. Your palm rested there without flinching, even despite the feel of his sweat under your skin.

“Jeez! Honey, you’re burnin’ up! Are you sure you’re not, like, really sick?” You pressed.

Peter felt the soft touch of your hand to the top of his head. Your fingers carded through his slightly damp hair. The tickling sensation of your fingertips sent tingles down his spine. And Peter’s body set itself ablaze. These were simple touches. Your fingers in his hair, your other hand lightly squeezing his muscles. Nothing too suggestive.

But his horny, addled mind reacted instantaneously. The very second Peter sensed your fingers were close, he sucked in a harsh, ragged breath. And as you made contact, he visibly shuddered. His fingernails dug themselves deeper into the door, leaving tears in the posters there (major apologies to Luke Skywalker and the gang). Peter raised his head from your belly.

And finally, he looked up into your eyes again. Or, at least, he tried to. Immediately upon seeing your pretty face, his gaze dropped straight to your lips.

“Shiiit…lovesick, maybe...” He tiredly blinked, huffing another breathless laugh, “Damn…yer really pretty, y’know that?” Peter’s teeth dug into his lip, as he subconsciously leaned an inch closer into your space. Your heart skipped several beats in your chest, and your eyes widened. The cutest blush flooded your soft cheeks as you gasped. And Peter’s dick twitched painfully beneath the fabric of his grey sweatpants.

“Dude…what??” You asked, barely audible. Scoffing in disbelief, you giggled, “Yeah, okay, somethin’s definitely wrong with you, man. Need me to call a doctor?” And you muttered under your breath, “ Or a mental ward, maybe? ”

Peter snickered in response, his smile spreading wide and showing teeth. The corners of his mouth pressed up into his dimples. And he shook his head, embarrassed beyond all human comprehension.

Another searing wave of horny torment swarmed Peter. And this one stung like hell. Peter’s cock throbbed with an ache he couldn’t ignore, even if he tried. He exhaled shaken breaths, reeking that thick, sweet scent. And without intending to, Peter rocked his hips forward. His bulge lightly brushed against your leg.

You squeaked with a gasp, tilting your head down. And realization seemed to dawn on you suddenly, as you noticed the shape of Peter’s hard dick in his sweatpants.

The softest, little “Oh… ” was all you could muster.

Peter bolted from the stairs before you could say anything else. He quickly paced in circles through the basement. Slow enough, this time around, that he didn’t appear as a blur. Just himself, in all his sweat-drenched, obvious boner glory. His cock bounced under his sweatpants as he moved. And you had to wrestle with god himself to resist staring at it. Maybe you understood the level of stress Peter was under. Because you saved him the humiliation, and failed to mention his situation aloud. “Y-uhm…You gonna be okay?” You asked, your voice somewhat hushed. “Me?? Hell if I know! Probably!” Peter threw his hands up as he rushed around, expelling his pent up energy, “Look, I’m, like, really sorry, babe. I shouldn’t’ve-...it’s just-...I’m goin’ through a majorly weird thing, and I need-” He stammered awkwardly over his words, stopping himself with a frustrated groan.

Stepping slowly down the stairs, you came to a halt as your tennis shoes reached the basement floor. You rubbed your arm for self-reassurance, shyly looking around with an intake of breath.

“You need what? Please don’t be afraid to talk to me, dude. I’m not gonna think less of you or anything.” You spoke with a tender insistence.

Only, your sweet words flew right over Peter’s head. Straight out the basement window. Later, gator.

Peter was too busy stopping dead in his tracks, his eyes giving you a not-so-subtle once over. And the image he took in, made it ultimately harder for Peter to resist his instinctive, lustful needs.

Standing in his (his mom’s) basement, looking so vulnerable, you avoided Peter’s gaze. The crop top you wore hugged your figure a little too tight. Showing off the swell of your tits, with a collar that hanged way too low to be modest. Long, thin sleeves covered your arms. Peter shamelessly let his eyes trail even lower. Past the soft, exposed skin of your belly. Skin he wanted to mark with his teeth and cum. And down to the short skirt - Peter had to do the mother of all double takes just then - hanging over your smooth thighs. And were those thigh-high socks covering your legs, or was he just hallucinating some sexy mirage? 

Your knees bumped together as you shifted your weight, your skirt fluttering with the movement.

Somebody call 9-1-fucking-1. Alert every doctor in the Westchester area. Because Peter might’ve actually gone straight into cardiac arrest. If he were to die right now? After seeing you, looking like that? Totally worth it. Amen.

“Peter? Did you hear me, honey? Is there-...I mean…is there anything I can do to help?”

Peter didn’t, for the life of him, expect you to say something like that.

Your eyes oozed innocence and genuine kindness. And Peter wanted to roll his eyes over it. You were so ridiculously nice in the face of an awkward situation. The apples of your cheeks burned hotter with every word you spoke. And though you may not have understood what Peter was going through, you offered your help anyway. Your lashes fluttered as you blinked. Subconsciously, you swiped your tongue across your lip to wet it. And again, your sock-clad knees knocked together with the adjustment of your shy posture.

Peter fought with all his mutant might to ignore another, painful influx of heat washing over his body. But ultimately, he failed. Miserably.

“F-Fuck-” He choked.

His dilated eyes flew open wide. A fwip, and Peter appeared in front of a nearby wall, hunched over next to a Ninja Turtles: Turtles in Time arcade machine. He kept his back towards you. And through the sheen of his sweat, you could see the way his muscles flexed. His body twitched, hips subtly bucking forward. Peter braced himself with a hand against the wall, groaning a series of soft noises into his other palm.

So,-uhmmm...maybehetotallyjustblewaloadinhispantsorwhatever. No biggie.

“Peter?? Holy shit-” you called.

Worried for his well being, you quickly raced towards him. And with a low grumble of a sound, Peter banged his head lightly against the wall. Mortified and supremely embarrassed, he slowly turned, pressing his back to the wall. You were much closer now. Close enough that Peter could reach out and pull you into his body if he wanted to. And he did want to. He wanted to so fucking bad. The very last remnants of his self control told him not to.

Time to bite the silver bullet, and face the music; so to speak.

Peter placed a trembling hand on your shoulder, the palm of it massive. And you jumped at the rough strength of his touch. Peter sighed, shaking his head. He avoided your gaze. And in his eyes, he carried with him a heavy, exhausted weight. The kind of tiredness you could see from a mile away. Peter knew he probably looked like a disgusting wreck. Not his most attractive, he had to admit.

Little did he know, you thought he looked drop dead gorgeous like this.

He hesitated before speaking, struggling to let the words slip off his sugary tongue. Once Peter finally opened his mouth, he rushed through his explanation in rapid succession. And the only reason you understood, was because you’d been around Peter for a long enough span of time. Luckily enough (or unluckily, depending), you’d become accustomed to his speedy, speech patterns.

“IIIIIIIIII fucked up real bad, babe. Like, really really bad. In Beastie’s lab. There were these nerdy, science chemicals, y’know? He’s always got stuff like that lyin’ around. Which, if you ask me? Is totally hazardous. Amiright? And I may have knocked some over. Because I was goin’ too fast and I wasn’t payin’ attention. Classic me, right? Pffbbt. So, anyway, I breathed in some, like, pink stuff. Kinda tastes like - you ever try honeysuckle as a kid? It tastes like that. It’s really sorta nostalgic. Reminds me of when I was- Uhm -sorry, I’m totally off track here. So-uh…ever since that happened? I’ve been stuck like this fer hours. And I’m not gonna lie to ya. It hurts. And it’s all hot ‘n stuff. Uh-”

You interrupted his nonsensical ramblings with a wave of your hand. As if suggesting you had a thought to add. Peter tried to ignore the way your blush spread down to your neck. And any thoughts he had about dragging his tongue sloppily across it, were shoved back down into frisky hell. Where they belonged.

“Uhm. S-...So, did you try-” You started. And Peter already knew ten thousand years ahead of time, what you were about to suggest.

“Beatin’ my meat? Yeah. Only a dozen times.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Peter let out a long, awkward sigh. The exhale of it wavered with the shuddering of his overheated body, “I think-...y’know, if I had to guess? Just throwin’ whatever thoughts out there. Darts on a board. Fwoo -” He made a throwing motion with his hand, “I think I just need to-uh…like…pfffbbt… bang ‘er whatever, y’know?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Oh. ” Peter sighed once more, throwing his head back against the wall. Clearing his throat with an unrelaxed cough, he continued, “Soooooo …ya think we could…I dunno…I don’t wanna…fuck up things between us more than I already ha-”

Peter was fast.

But even whilst carrying the oh, so sacred speedster gene, he didn't see you coming. Lost in a heated, sex-crazed haze of confusion and hesitation; Peter was completely caught by surprise when you interrupted his words with a bruising kiss. For a fraction of a second, his rational mind ran through a million questions at lightspeed. Why the heck would you kiss him? Did you have feelings for him? Were you only trying to be nice? What did this even mean to you? Did it mean anything? But before he could register a single one, his carnal instincts took over.

With the inhumanly fast beating of his heart, came fuzzy, blistering, hot desire. Peter’s cock swelled his pants, the veins intertwined through it pulsating with every beat. He growled into your mouth, kissing you in a filthy, sloppy blend of teeth and tongues. You drank down the sweet, honeysuckle taste on his lips. Thirsty for it, as if swiping your tongue across them would bring you infinite serenity.

A beat passed.

Peter had you in his bed in an instant. The ultra-fast movement shook you to your core, leaving you a little dizzy. There wasn’t a single moment to catch up, before Peter’s lips enveloped yours all over again. He kissed you with wet, deep desperation. Moaning hot puffs of air through every, abrupt pause between kisses. Your fingers rushed to graze across the skin of his chest, over his toned torso. Peter allowed you only a meager moment to feel the bump of his abs under your fingertips, before he suddenly moved.

Rolling you around swiftly amongst the sheets, Peter frantically searched for more physical contact. Desperate to be as close to your body as he could. The heat coursing through his veins heightened to a scorching blaze with your every touch. Your hands in his hair. Your lips and tongue against his. Peter let his own, trembling hands roam all over and down your body. A body he’d admired in secret for far too long a time, he now realized.

But now? You were here. In his bed. Melting into a hot, submissive puddle underneath him. And Peter, in an impatient, concupiscent state of mind…found he just couldn’t fucking hold back anymore.

“I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, I gotta have you. I gotta feel your pussy around me, babe. Please-” Peter whispered hotly into your lips, moaning with swirls of his tongue.

"P-Peter ~" You mewled his name, and he fell even weaker into your kiss.

He pulled away for a beat, his lips coated in sticky, sweet saliva. Peter jerked the collar of your crop top down, along with anything underneath. One of your tits popped out with a bounce, the nipple hardening upon exposure to the air. He palmed at your breast, leaning down to harshly sink his teeth into your neck. Peter's tongue traveled up to your ear, where he whispered with a whine.

“Look at this hot fuckin’ body. You been hidin’ all this from me? This whole time?” His thumb flicked your nipple, vibrating with a soft, superspeed buzz, "You got some bomb as hell titties, baby."

Those mild vibrations against your tit pulled quiet moans out of you. And you giggled at Peter's comment, bashfully shaking your head as you pulled him up for another kiss.

"No shit, they've been there the whole time, dumbass. All you had to do was ask." You breathed into his lips. And Peter huffed a hot laugh, lightly nipping your lip.

"Woulda asked sooner, had I known." He breathed, humming a low moan, " Sooooooo much sooner."

None of your clothes were pulled from your body. Peter was in too much of a rush to get his dick inside you. His speedy-fast brain sent itself straight into auto-pilot. There was no controlling his actions from this point onwards. Bye bye, rational thought. And using all the strength he had, Peter forced your legs apart. He threw both of your shoe-clad feet over his sweaty shoulders.

Peter’s hot fingers darted down to push your panties aside. And the instant his eyes gazed upon your righteous, angelic pussy; he choked out a whine of relief. Something instinctive. A sound he didn’t even mean to make. 

Shoving the front of his sweatpants down, Peter hastily grabbed his enlarged, aching cock. You glanced down curiously, just to have a sneaky peek at your best friend’s dick. And at the sight of it, you audibly gasped. Your cunt immediately reacted, weeping an onslaught of slick heat just for him. You also, just so happen to notice the thick, sticky cum coating his length. Which meant, Peter had quite literally creamed his pants sometime in the last five minutes or so. Your entire face lit like a match, colored strawberry red at this realization. And you couldn’t help but wonder what must have triggered such a strong reaction in him. That pink stuff Hank’s cookin’ up in his lab must be out of this world.Not a single word of warning was given, as Peter shoved his swollen, needy cock as deep into your pussy as it could go. Using his cum as lubricant, he forced his way quickly through your tight walls. Hitting your cervix in an instant. Hot, breathy moans smelling so sweet, rang out from above you. As Peter began relentlessly pounding you into oblivion. 

Your pussy was the holiest of holy sanctuaries. Fucking outrageous.  

“Fuck! Fuck, that’s it! God, baby, yer so tight. So fuckin’ wet-” Peter spilled every word, with no filter.

"P-Peter~! Ah! You feel so good, Peter~" You moaned. While plunging his cock into your dripping cunt, Peter dropped his head. Silver hairs pointed out in every direction, his bangs covering his eyes. And he posed a timid thought aloud.

"Pietro." His humid breath tickled your ear, "P-Please. "

If you could blush any further, you would have. Pleasant, tickling goosebumps erupted across your skin. Biting your lip, you frantically nodded. Your hands traveled to his hair, where you gently grabbed the sides of Peter's head to pull him up. You met his eyes with an adoring grin.

"Fuck me, Pietro. Please, fuck me fast. As fast as you wanna go, baby. I'm all yours." 

Peter nearly came, and you felt the veins of his cock vibrate against your walls as he fucked you. You threw your head back, whining with a coquettish squeak. 

Fucking you missionary wasn’t enough.

Peter hit all those spots inside you that made you squirm needily underneath him. But he wanted - no - needed to be even closer. He so badly wanted to hold you against him, while he made mindless, risky, speedy love to your perfect, little pussy. His thoughts were all the more amorous, as he felt the way your plushy walls squeezed around his cock. Choking out a groan, Peter took to pulling you with him. As he rolled around in a flash, adjusting positions.

“Gimme just a sec, princess.” He breathed.

Finally, at long last, he found something perfect. And so fucking close. Peter spooned you on the bed, wrapping his muscular arms tightly around your body. His muscles strained under his burning skin as he held you in a firm grip. And with his chest pressed to your back, he kept fucking you. Peter’s pulsating cock stretched you open so wide, pumping into your cunt at a faster pace.

Like, super speed fast. Fast enough to be so overwhelming, you couldn’t think straight (you were brainless on his dick at this point, honestly). But not so quick that he’d hurt you.

One of his big hands traveled down to your skirt, which he lifted up over your ass. Peter pressed himself even closer. Letting his pelvis meet the soft, bounce of your ass cheeks as he fucked you fast and hard. Only because you asked so nicely, and not at all because you had him completely pussy whipped. Burying his face in your neck, he inhaled your scent. And Peter peppered your skin in wet kisses.

He was close to his peak. Peter could feel it. These last, several, miserable hours had all been building up to this very moment. Dozens of nut-busting sessions later. This was definitely, without a shadow of a doubt, exactly what Peter needed. And for you to be the one to give it to him? Talk about a major fucking score.

Peter’s moans became even more desperate, more akin to pathetic cries the closer he got to release. His body flared up in a steaming heat, bracing itself for oncoming ecstasy. And Peter thrust his cock into you faster.

Faster. Faster. Faster. So much fucking faster.

“T-Too fast! Too fast, Pietr-I can’t! Please-” You suddenly cried, your cunt clamping down on Peter’s cock even tighter. If he didn’t slow down, you were surely going to squirt around his dick. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I can’t stop, babygirl. J-Just gimme- fuck, why are you so fuckin’ tight?? Fuck -just gimme one more second, please- ”

Your pussy fluttered, pulling his cock in deep. And Peter found it then. The cusp of his agonizing, excruciating journey through rampant, horny torment. A number of things helped guide him over. Your cute, broken squeals of pleasure were the first. Peter never would have guessed that anything could make you moan like that. But, fuck, he wanted to lock the sound of your cries deep into his core memory, for the rest of his days.

“Keep going, Pietro~! You’re- ahh -so fast, you’re gonna make me cum, baby!” 

Your movements further spurred him on. Peter was completely thrown, as you met each of his thrusts with the rocking of your hips. Your ass jiggling with every bounce against his pelvis. So soft. Even despite the overwhelming speed of Peter’s thrusts, you kept going for his sake. As though you couldn’t get enough of his cock. And Peter swore to himself, he would worship the ground you walked on once this was all over.

“I-I’m cumming Pietro! Cumming just for you! FUCK!!” You cried as your eyes rolled back. Your body erupting into a brainless, blissful, quivering mess of orgasmic euphoria.

Okay. Yeah. Peter was totally gonna make you his religion after this. 

“Yeah? Gonna cum fer me, babygirl? Please cum fer me. Please -” He moaned.

Peter felt the gummy walls of your cunt squeeze him in a vice grip. And he shut his eyes tightly, emitting an obscene, filthy moan. A hot gush of your slick sprayed from your pussy with each thrust of Peter’s cock. Staining his bedsheets and coating his thighs. 

The final nail in the coffin was the moment you turned your head just so. In your own, overstimulated, post-orgasmic daze. You pressed your cheek to Peter’s in a gesture of reassurance. A silent indication that you weren’t suffering too much as he fucked you at mach speed. Peter felt his heart flutter, much like a hummingbird, at the closeness. 

Maybe he really was in love with you. Maybe he wasn’t as influenced by boner plague as he thought.

A metaphorical coil tightened deep in Peter’s gut. Pleasurable, buzzing tingles bolted through every one of his nerves. Finally, the coil snapped. Something like a volcanic eruption of blistering, syrupy ecstasy freed him. Releasing Peter from the shackles of hard cock disease. One, last plunge of his thick cock in your cunt, and Peter lost it.

He spilled his sweet, sweltering cum so deep in your pussy; you could’ve sworn you felt the heat pooling in your belly. Peter filled you up with everything he had, until there was nothing left to give.

The wavering burns that once infected Peter’s body, finally began to subside. At long last.

Peter was left with a massive headache, and painfully sore muscles. And because he was so incredibly exhausted; he didn’t pull himself away from you. Nor did he pull out. For whatever reason, he couldn’t. Peter wanted to stay there. Buried deep. Pressed against your back. Forever, if you let him.

A blissful wave of sleepiness hit Peter like a truck. And a dopey grin spread across his face. Showing off those dimples again. Peter’s dark eyes fell half-lidded, the smokey rings around them so much more evident. He dropped his head to the pillows, his hair fluffy and tousled across the fabric of them. In his sleepy, mellow haze; Peter let out the dorkiest of giggles.

“Wow…wow- fuck…I can’t believe you actually let me do that, babe…holy shit…” He laughed in breathless disbelief, "You're a goddess."

As if priding himself on what he’d done to you, Peter thrust his hips upward. Just one more time for good measure. His softening dick remained buried between your slick walls. And his face scrunched up at the overstimulation of this movement alone. Peter eventually stopped altogether, instead choosing to nuzzle his nose into your back. Breathing in your scent.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He tiredly confessed.

Through your own exasperated pants of air, you scoffed. Laughing breathlessly at Peter’s unprompted statement.

“Please. Be serious, dude.” You huffed playfully, “You’re not in love with me. You were just really fuckin’ horny, Pietr-...Peter.”

You felt him shake his head, before he buried his nose further into your back. And he hummed in content.

“Mmmmm. No, like, I’m bein’ deadly serious, baby. Totally legit. We shoulda done this wayyyy sooner. Yer really hot ‘n stuff. And yer so cool. And so nice to me all the time…” Peter pulled you tighter against him, “ Call me Pietro again. I like the way it sounds when you say it.”

A pink hue - pink like the lab substance that started this entire, degenerative ordeal - flooded your cheeks. You brought a shaky hand to Peter’s hair, letting your fingers lightly massage his scalp.

“Pietro.~” You teased in a sultry, sing-song voice, “Y’know Hank’s gonna rip you a new one the next time he sees you, right?” The only response you got, were Peter’s soft snores. An echo of the first nap he’d taken since he was a small, troublesome child. Annoyed in the most affectionate of ways, you dropped your head to the pillows. And as carefully as you could, you pulled yourself from Peter’s cuddly grasp. His soft cock withdrew itself from your pussy with your movement. You shuddered, feeling a tingle that raced all the way down to your toes. 

Before tip-toeing to the basement bathroom for a shower, you took one last glance at Peter. Your best friend in the entirety of the expansive cosmos...who also just gave you the best dicking of your life. Lying there peacefully, quietly snoring. Looking a handsome goddamn mess. In his sleep, you noticed his fingers twitch. Another way for his body to expel pent up energy, you guessed.

Leaning over the bed, you placed a feather-light kiss to his forehead.

“Watch where you’re goin’ next time, dipshit.” You whispered with a soft smile.

[currentlylivingonaprayer]

my top favorite kimchay fanfics

In no particular order

(Even though nobody asked)

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/40707996

dancing with our hands tied by MajorinMonster

After Chay gets jumped by a rival mafia gang he decides he needs a reputation so people won't touch him again. Kim is just there, trying to get back into chays good books.

9/10 recommend

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3061830

The idiots & idioms series by snickerdoodlles

Chay steals kims official wik account and post absolute unhinged things. Kim does nothing to stop him.

A must read for giggles

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45252880

Five Minutes by littlemisslawyer

Chays is a doctor and has been sent out of Thailand for many years. The day he comes back and wants nothing more than to take a break from work Kim has the audacity to get shot right in front of him.

Lots of cussing and chay calling kim 'pretty boy' and 'asshole/bastard'. Perfect

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/43953225

Idolistic by ditchlilly

Wik centric fic. Kim likes to post false information of himself from a side account and chay somehow know what of the things he says are true or false. Kim gets suspicious and tries to find out who this boy is.

Lots of TENSION. And kittens. I absolutely love this one. Stayed awake till 3 am giggling so much I thought I would wake my family up. A must read. Definitely in my top 2.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50830555

Progression by Azile (WitnessMarks)

Porchay trains to becomes stronger after their break up, kim, meanwhile, doesn't handel it well and then gets kidnapped. Chay is one of the people to come to his rescue. Kim comes back quite damaged and chay is one of the only people he feels really comfortable being around. Both of them are confronted with their still existing feelings for the other.

absolute masterpiece. Read in one sitting, even though it's still updating. Can only recommend. This story is batteling with Idolistic for first place.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/series/3489094

The KIM IS SO LOVED series by wayupthere

No comment. Read the tags, you'll know what it's about.

~~~

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45749062

Idle Talk by Iamabudgie

After someone posts a blind item on a gossip site, Kim is forced to confront something he has been delaying for months.

Absolutely amazing. Much deeper plot than you think when you first start it. Updates are months apart, but they deliver every time. Definitely in my top 3.

~~

Edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52988125

I Fell for You by @liesineyes

Kims family treats him like absolute shit. Chay and Porsche just want to find out out why, while also planning to show Kim real family love.

Love this story. Not many chapters yet, but beautiful and makes me sad and happy at the same time.

~~

Edit edit:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52593382

BREAKING NEWS by Pens

https://archiveofourown.org/works/48575617

Back on the Beat by Pens

It's kimchay works, with the most beautiful fanart I've ever seen and it makes my cheeks ache form smiling.

Also check out their tumbler account @shou-jpeg for more kimchay content.

~~

and of course the overall classics like an elegant mechanism by Laughsalot3412, or meet me where the light greets the dark by froginthesun.

I know some of these authors are here on tumbler, but I habe no idea how to tag them in a post, so I will tag them in the comments. Please tell me if I forgot someone. Check out their accounts too.

Also, if you have a recommendation, I'm open for them.

[tsartistry]

I've been doing a lot of DoorDash delivery driving on the side after work too keep myself afloat. I wouldn't call it lucrative but it's certainly kept me from drowning as badly as I was before.

Unfortunately that hasn't left me a lot of time to draw or write. That said, it has left me with a lot of idle time with just me, my thoughts, and my music, so my ideas have had a lot of time to percolate, and a lot of that has been spent on that Niobe fic.

There's a dog now! Things shift and change constantly as I plot, but I am going to make a pointed effort to keep the dog in as long as it's feasible.

It's interesting how the needs of the narrative cause seemingly unrelated details to manifest. For plot & magical reasons it was a good idea to have a Friendly Creature of some kind constantly by Lester's side. The most reasonable option was a service dog. Which means, of course, that there needs to be a reason for Lester to have one. After mulling it over, I'm thinking the dog is a seizure alert dog.

I've mentioned before that Niobe's going at Lester's memories from multiple angles. She's already combining magic and psychology, she's not above messing with his brain directly. I'm thinking maybe something gets damaged in the process, and now Lester's got epilepsy caused by a TBI. It actually fits really nicely into the story, because Niobe's cover story for any of Lester's fuzzy and inconsistent memories is that he recently survived a brain tumor. That's been part of the plan for a while. Including an ACTUAL brain injury would just sell her lie more.

There's no guarantee that ANY of these details are making it into the final story; It's a lot of extra stuff to add on top of what is already a very complicated mish-mash of ideas. But I'm already researching to see if it's something I can portray accurately and in an inoffensive (or even empowering) way.

Anyway, i should figure out what to name the dog.

[weirdbrothers]

Stranger Things Fic Rec

Let me get one thing out of the way: absolutely nobody asked for this. But I love these pairings and stories so much I had to share it with you all. This is heavy on Steve/Billy with some Steve/Eddie sprinkled in.

If you've never read Stranger Things fic, or when you saw this post thought "oh yeah, that 80s kid monster show" I encourage you to give these a try! You don't have to know much about the show besides the bare bones of the plot. (And my ask box is always open for Qs!) If you like angsty teenage boys who are in denial about their feelings and hate their hometown, read on.

Now, on to the porn and depravity!

if i stare too long by @brawlite & @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger | Steve/Eddie/Billy

After the end of the world, Billy Hargrove is a mess. But at least he has company.

Notes: Literally one of my favorite fics of all time, I will never shut up about it. Gay threesomes. Angst. A sweltering midwestern summer. Homoerotic undertones that builds to filthy gay porn. The vibes are all there.

Pressure by Yellow_Blue_Books | Steve/Eddie

"You never did tell me your name," he called at Munson's back. The older man was already in the trees when he turned back around and stated his name, eyes bright and grin wide. Steve never heard it; he couldn't read his lips from so far a distance between them. So instead, he watched Munson walk away; the teen, now wide awake, went to sit on the hood of his car to wait for Hopper to show. On that crisp, cold January night in 1985 - Steve Harrington heard the sound of Eddie Munson's voice for the first and last time. He never even knew his name.

Notes: The only WIP on this rec list, and totally worth the wait. Great characterization. So many little tidbits of information that have me squealing with joy. But also dark and grounded in reality.

chokechain by @brawlite | Steve/Billy (and Tommy is there)

Tommy H. invites Billy to a party at Steve's house. Billy expected hot chicks and booze, but when he shows up, there's only the latter. Steve and Tommy teach Billy that in Hawkins, sometimes you just gotta make do.

Notes: When I think of this fic I literally start sweating its so sexy. The fic that got me hooked on Steve/Billy and gay Steve in general. Its so subtle and gritty and grimy and hot. And Tommy is egging everyone on, yet oblivious, just how I like him.

so good at being in trouble, so bad at being in love by @the-copperkid Steve/Billy

Steve's sophomore year, Billy showed up.

Notes: A fandom classic. The perfect example of Steve/Billy getting together in world, and dealing with their feelings (+ porn, because I'm me and I need porn in all my fic).

We'll Go Down in History by @eternalgoldfish | Billy/Steve

Hawkins High takes a field trip to Baltimore to see historical sites and Steve would rather jump out his hotel window.

Notes: So much teenage angst and tomfoolery in this one! A little more lighthearted than others on the list. Gets to that theme in ST that I love: the idle hands of teenage boys are the devil's playthings.

Dom 4 Hire by @lazybakerart

Steve is naked, on his hands and knees, in the apartment he shares with his high school sweetheart for a man he only just met in person five minutes ago.

Notes: From the second I saw Steve Harrington on screen I knew that boy was a sub dying for someone to call him a good boy. And Billy is just the dom for the job. My only complaint is that I wish this was longer!

Maybe we're something uncool by desert_dino | Steve/Billy

It’s only noon; Billy knows neither of them have work that evening, and their shitty gen-ed biology lab was cancelled. They’ve only been hanging out for an hour, and maybe Billy isn’t quite done fucking around with Harrington yet. Maybe he’ll indulge him.

Notes: Cocky Billy is what the world needs! Great banter and dialogue. Just a snapshot of what I imagine their afternoons would look like, and the teens of Hawkins would be like "why the fuck are they always hanging out?" totally oblivious.

slipping through by sightetsound | Steve/Billy

It was the weed, and the pilfered whiskey from Steve’s daddy dearest they passed back and forth. It was actually how Steve’s eyes caught the moonlight. How his mouth moved when he spoke, and how it curved on a grin Billy would call relaxed when they were alone. Admitting as much felt too much like giving ground, and so it was the weed and whiskey.

Notes: Really bittersweet, heartfelt, and sincere. A different kind of pace for this pairing.

You Get Too Close by @trashcangimmick | Steve/Billy

Steve sits at the back of the bus on the way to a basketball match in Gary. Billy Hargrove sits right across from him.

Notes: Be for real- when we saw that basketball and shower scene we were all hoping it would go in the direction of this fic. Gives me the vibe of an 80s porno in the best way.

Reflecting on the Longest Wavelength by @trashcangimmick | Billy/Hopper

Billy’s heat hits early. Jim Hopper happens to find him before anyone else does. 

Notes: This pairing is a little rouge, I don't see it often and its hard to pin down for me past all the basic tropes. I really like the A/B/O world-building here and find myself returning to it.

[greyfics]

entry 8.5: a side-plot in which norm gets the fuck out.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

subject: norm maclean

fic type: smart relatable underdog side character gets spotlight,

word count: 2.85K

inspo: I really just need to see norm gtfo of that vault lol, I feel like he's got a fighting chance you know?

cw: spoilers for fallout season one  

summary: an overseer that is a brain in a vat. a series of experiments concealed behind the front of a subterranean utopia. the convenient relocation of the last of the people norm cared about- the last of the people questioning the fragile reign of the overseers, and what they might be hiding. norm desperately needs to leave, to find his sister- before he becomes just another one of bud's buds..

- °•. ✦ .•° -

"I suggest you wait it out in your father's pod, unless you want to starve to death- not much food in here, except the occasional large bug."

He is frozen. A small, quivering fist slowly slips down a firmly sealed door- were these vaults reinforced havens, or were they preemptive tombs?- the fist unfurls, as the wrist goes limp and the body connected numbs spare for the pitter patter of palpitations spawned from that very realisation.

His face is absent of blood, and despite the fact he has not yet fatalistically marched over to a cryogenic chamber to further bury himself in this pit, the numbness fades to a chill that kicks his feet into a frenzied pacing.

The robo-brain does a slow, awkward 180° twist, "All that is going to do for you is burn valuable energy that I simply don't have to give back to you, Norm. See, I'm sure you know this if you paid attention during your pristine pre-years education programme, but the human body requires-"

"Just shut up for a second." Is the flat-toned, snappy response Norm gives as he rubs his temples, the repetitive sensation a focal point to ground his shaking limbs, to ground a flurry of rarely seen irrational thoughts in that calculating mind.

Right now, it looks as though his only options are slamming himself against the door fruitlessly until he collapses from exhaustion and inevitably dies of dehydration or starvation, or to get into a pod on the other end of the room and pray that somehow, he is woken up- but what then? what would I even have to wake up to? Norm reflects upon the denizens of Vault 33- the way they force a smile and idle onwards so ignorantly; treating murderers as naughty houseguests, ignoring the slow dissimilation of their vault's security, it's vital resources and population becoming more sparse by the week. Even if there was hope brewing for a better future somewhere on the surface, there's no way that help would reach him down here.

Besides, he was just a problem for Vault 33- he always had been. He recalls the bitter comments about his unenthusiastic demeanour- the fearful confusion directed at his monotony- how lonely, how isolating a life down here is as an anomaly of the herd. With him removed from the equation, and Betty able to sleep at night thinking of him not as dead, but simply as in a rather permanent state of sleep, she would have no reason to wake him up- he who might expose the secrets they had desperately tried to keep locked away for so long. He was better left removed from the vault- left down here.

The reminder of his present predicament begins to suffocate him again, as his eyes flit between the walls and his breath picks up pace, the panic attack coming back for a dizzying second wave. Breathe. Breathe- I can't breathe. I'm going to die down here- this place is a big heaping metal tomb and I have to get out- Norm had never felt so overencumbered at the thought of being buried so deep beneath the surface before, but for the first time ever the urge to scratch his way to the surface was overriding in him the fear of the vultures circling above. He thinks about this- pauses his pacing entirely, and thinks some more. The buzz of an idea begins to spark slowly to fruition in Norm's mind.

It was true that it was better for Betty that he be kept somewhere outside of Vault 33- but maybe he'd even less of a threat left somewhere... else outside of 33? Maybe somewhere he could be more useful? He almost leaps from the exhilaration of having any kind of possible plan c at all in this situation- but his temperament keeps him still- and though his lips remain a flat, pursed line, a playful light dances behind the young genius' eyes, "Locking me in here won't stop Vault 33 from falling apart- it will just guarantee it. I'm your solution." He calmly declares- naturally, Bud's first move is to shut him down, but he is prepared for that, "Norman, you know I can't do that- and you really shouldn't worry about Vault 33 anymore, Betty has things completely-"

"-under control? If Betty had things under control, then how and why did a vault dweller manage to break into her office and trick you into letting them into Vault 31?" Bud stammers, juts to one side and then the other as he awkwardly attempts to give some justifiable explanation to Norm's question.

The bot stills, and lets a sigh out of its speakers, "There may be some... complications to the planned course of action- you being here being one of them, I should remind you- but I'm sure Betty will work through them and get everything back to normal soon enough. What good will it do us to send you to the surface? That would mean opening the vault doors, and risking the safety of everyone inside-" Norm shakes his head at this, takes a step towards the bot as he parries back, "-raiders managed to infiltrate our vault through 32 already, and the main vault door was opened twice after that. Do you really think one more time could hurt?"

The little brain in a pot makes an exasperated crying noise, and shakes itself as emphatically as it can, "But what would be the point in that, buddy, if we can just keep you tucked safely away in the most secure vault of the three down here, and... not open the door at all? None of our problems will be solved by another person leaving." A rare, triumphant grin floats onto Norm's face, and Bud makes a reflexive sharp shuffle backwards at the unnatural site, "If we don't replace our water filtration chip, then eventually Vault 33 runs out of water- and if the vault dwellers don't overthrow the overseer and leave by then? Everyone will die.-"

"Oh my god, why did he smile when he said tha-"

"-Just listen. Vault 32's supplies clearly ran out a long time ago, and evidently no-one from Vault 31 was gonna get up for a glass of water during their 200-year long power nap. By the look on Betty's face when she found out, I'm guessing there isn't a back-up." Bud is back to being completely still and silent now. Norm basks in a moment of captured quiet, takes a couple slow steps to steady the nervous shakes as he deployed as much charisma as he was capable, "You could just keep me in here, and let Betty send someone else to the surface for a replacement- but those people? The other dwellers? They're built for vault life- they fit in here-"

He wavers a little, a lump forming in his throat- but digresses, "I don't. I'm not strong- but I'm quick, and I'm smart... and, I might be a coward- or I was, once- but I'm beginning to realise this place is no better than whatever might be waiting up there. Nobody really knows what they're doing- not you, not Betty- maybe not even my dad. And I don't want to keep sitting around waiting to die when I could be doing something."- I could be helping Lucy, I should have- "So send me. I'll go find a replacement. I'll bring it back- and then neither you nor Betty will ever see me again. You'll be solving two problems with one stone."

The brain-in-a-vat that is Bud spends a painfully long time just sitting there and glowing, still taking in all that Norm had argued, malfunct in his dilemma between maintaining protocol or deviating from protocol for the sake of maintaining the protocol, honestly upset that he was having to do any deep deliberation at all regarding what he had been informed would be a rather simple and satisfying job. When he makes his decision, it comes with a disappointed, exasperated breath- and then a slow, clumsy spin once again, as he veers himself back into the door terminus access point.

With a blip and a hiss, the door that Norm had believed not too long ago to have sealed his fate begins to steadily unlock itself once again. He cries out with desperate relief and punches the air, before maintaining his composure and striding over to the door. He gets as close as he can, in case his thankfully not forever-friend decides to change his mind last minute. He hears the awful creaking of the vault door opening ahead, and dashes for it without even bothering to say goodbye to Bud- no time to spare, I need to leave now- Betty might not be so stupid. The door rolls to the left, his feet hardly make a sound as they dance across the metal grated platform to freedom-

And falter, pause, reverse a few steps when the figure of Betty Pearson is revealed but a few seconds later, arms crossed, already waiting for the door to roll back open.

Oh god, I think I'm having a heart attack. I think I might just die right now. I think that might be for the best.

...He does not die, and though he is grateful, he is also mildly disappointed that he still has to face Betty. She remains still, silent- her expression does not reveal much surprise at finding him here, but her stasis demands him to speak. Thinking of all she has done to this vault, and what little good she has done for it, he steels himself, and he glares back at her, his tone assertive as he speaks, "I'm going to the surface, and before you say anything-"

"Yes, you're right. You are going to the surface." She replies, steady and quiet,"I-" he is the one to stammer to a standstill this time, "I... am?" She steps towards him, and it takes all his will not to flinch away as a superficially endearing arm firmly braces around his shoulders, guiding him away from Vault 31, "Although at times I'm sure it seems as though I have... overlooked certain hardships that have come to challenge us all in this vault," -'overlooked' is an understatement, and a pretty ironic thing to do when your job title is overseer- "-but I've simply been thinking about the best options for our future. With our friends and family... rehomed, and our guests taken care of, I think it's time we begin dealing with some of our more long-term problems, too." The phrasing sends a chill across Norm's neck, which flows through the rest of his body as Betty guides him around a corner to bear witness to the remaining dwellers of 33, whooping and clapping in celebration for something he did not yet know.

Look closer. He notices the pause, the way they look past him to the overseer before they burst into their frenzied display- there are a couple eyebrows knitted upwards, the faintest flicker of a tear in the corner of an eye or a puffy redness where tears were wiped away to conceal the evidence of a negative emotion.

Some have slanted postures, clap a little slower- don't meet his gaze; they seem guilty of something, guilty of the relief that their body betrays.

Do they already know I'm leaving? How could they, unless-

"As I was telling everyone, Norm selflessly asked me for permission to go out onto the surface and solve our water chip crisis- of course, we do not often open our vault doors, and I felt too close to the matter to feel capable of making the decision myself- especially given the possibility that opening the vault door might threaten our friends in 31 too! So, I sent Norm to speak with Overseer Askins in Vault 31 to see whether he believes that this brave quest should be allowed. Of course, this affects all of us, too- but after talking it through with everyone, we've all agreed that however sad it will be to see you leave us- for a while, of course- it is definitely for the best."

A couple dwellers nod- some intentionally, some just in a lull of subconscious agreement even as their faces feign sadness. It stings to see how fast they were willing to get rid of him- it stings to be let go without a fight. The 'for a while' is simply salt in the wound; insulting to even pretend at this point that anyone in this cramped little gathering genuinely held any belief he would return.

"So!" The overseer pipes up chipperly once again, "Norm..."-not so enthusiastic-"Did you have a productive meeting with the Overseer? Did he give his consent to your proposed assignment?"

He could expose her right now, dismantle the order they had wrought horror and fear to maintain- but he knows he could not lead them, he knows how secretly glad they are to see him, of all people, sacrificed to the world above- he knows they would not survive up there, nor would they survive down here without a figurehead to fall behind, to hide them from reality. So he speaks a truth of kinds:

"The Overseer permitted my leave after I explained the importance of my departure, and how it was the best course of action." His tone lacks conviction in the vague, avoidant choice of words he spews, but a half-hearted cheer and a series of awkward hugs follows them anyway.

It's all just a big show. I'm starting to think I might be the only normal one here.

- °•. ✦ .•° -

A solemn march through the armoury and pharmacy to (ill)equip Norm for his journey through the wastes precedes a long, awkwardly still and quiet elevator ride towards the surface. Norm is the first to step out, bursting ahead into a fast stroll until he found himself standing at the precipice, waiting for the bridge to bring him to his salvation (or his doom). She gets into place-

and lingers, before she presses the button- they are alone now, and they are not so different, really- she just got better at hiding her discontent, "Norman." her voice is different to how he has ever heard it before- it was just... normal. When the calm and collected persona dropped away, she was the most human-sounding person he had yet encountered in his sheltered life. He turns, just his head- makes a point to pay attention, to show some enthusiasm- "You might think you're different, but... being different to most those folks down there is probably more of a good thing than not. You are extraordinary, never forget that. Even without everything that's happened, I think you were always going to be a problem for us. You've always been good at seeing things other people don't."

She pauses for a moment, deliberating on whether or not to bring something up- she chews her cheek, looks off to the side as she weighs up the power of her words- remembers her job, her duty, and the mask goes back on with a sympathetic smile, "We really do need that water chip- our vault has enough water to last about 150 more days, but after that, we'll be out. If you head north-east, ask around and you'll find a place that used to be a town called Shady Sands; it's not exactly close to here, but if it's any motivation I'd bet that's where your sister, Miss Maclean, will have headed too. When you get to Shady Sands, go directly east- I only know of a few vaults outside of ours, and I hear there's an old vault somewhere in the hills there- Vault 13. I'm sure they'll have a water chip to spare. Get the chip back to us, and you'll be a hero to this vault forever..." She certainly makes it sound appealing, but Norman knows better, "...but I'll never be allowed back inside." He finishes the sentence for her.

She hits the button, and Norm finds himself overcome with trembling uncertainty once again. Was he crazy? Just because he wasn't built for vault life didn't mean he was any more suited for the wastelands just beyond the door- the tomb unseals. Once again, a thought occurs to Norm at an inconvenient time- as he tentatively steps towards the radiating light that blinds him from above, he turns a final time to look at his now-former overseer with a quizzical expression, "Does... does Vault 32 not have a water filtration chip?"

Her smile doesn't change, but it takes a sinister feel as her next cheery words come out, tainted and barbed, "I did say our Vault has 150 days of water left- I'm afraid I can't speak for Vault 32, Overseer Harper would know more about that. Unfortunately, until we have a functioning filtration chip of our own, we won't be able to spare any of our own resources. But I'm sure everything will be just fine."

Norman began to run.

[loosingmoreletters]

"Court Drama, where Wei Wuxian fakes his death just so that people end up assuming he was murdered and pin the murder on his new identity."

My first read of that sentence was that he set up the whole thing - and I was trying to figure out what the end game would be. He wants to infiltrate a prison? Trying to uncover some other plot? Then I reread it and...now I think it was unintentional? He tried to fake his death but it got all messed up and now he's on trial for his own murder?

The latter yeah. Also an entirely self-indulgent omegaverse fic though I suppose you could technically write it without.

Uuuh essentially, due to some bullshit kinda shaped like the Wen starting their campaign, we get a wangxian arranged marriage. And Wei Wuxian goes into this under the assumption that he'll have shit to do. Meanwhile, we got LWJ and a guilt complex over landing WWX in this position so he just leaves WWX on his own? Just a whole lot of miscommunication.

And when the Wen do attack, Wei Wuxian decides "okay fuck this actually" and gets out because he's got better things to do than sit around doing nothing all day. So he runs off v much with the intention of faking his death in some form, but also the Wen very much did attack and there's a whole lot of blood and strange-looking talismans so the assumption is that Wei Wuxian is brutally killed, which ends up escalating the war.

And WWX, never idle, decides not to fuck with that perception and hide his identity. He comes across Wen Ning and Qing, some others, and kind of decides to pull a YLLZ.

Sunshot Campaign goes down, and the other sects/kingdoms/dukedoms idk gotta figure that out, are a little sus because WWX did take in Wen, even if he was fighting on their side. And then he pulls something that reminds people of the aftermath of his 'murder' so they end up thinking that the fearsome YLLZ murdered poor Wei Wuxian.

Self-indulgency featured into it because I was fucking around with the thought of a-Yuan as a wangxian baby and WWX partially staying away bc the whole miscommunication left him with the assumption he'd gonna end up like Madam Lan and well, better to run off when nobody knows and is on his case yet about potential heirs, right?

So yeah, idk if I'll ever actually write this bc sometimes my brain shelves anything vaguely omegaverse miscommunication mpreg plot into "this is so cringe, nobody wants to read this Letters, this is daydream material only" category and I feel guilty. Anyway, the summary in my notes is something like:

When the dust settles and the Emperor declares war, the entirety of the jianghu knows this: the Yiling Laozu killed Consort Wei.

[corvidarcana]

Do you have any tips on coming up with plot ideas? I’ve been wanting to write a sonadow fic of my own and I felt like asking because aurum, wolfboy, and child of prophecy are seriously some of the greatest fics I’ve ever read in my life lol I always wonder how you come up with these things

Hi! Thanks for asking! Unfortunately explaining how I come up with ideas is a bit like trying to explain quantum physics in the sense that it’s not easy to put into words. But I’ll do my best!!

Every time I come up with an idea, it spawns a little differently.

- I got the idea for Aurum by going on long hikes in the spring/summertime and listening to cool, inspiring music that helped me slowly build the idea by proxy of having lots of time to think.

- I thought of Child of Prophecy because I took a few basic ideas and mashed them together: one, I knew I wanted to make a medieval fic, and two, I’d always wanted to write a Deaf au of Sonic.

- with the new pirate au I’m developing, I literally just woke up one morning and had this brilliant idea, so whatever the heck i was dreaming about that night must have had some impact. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

- There’s lowkey a superhero au now floating around the back of my brain thanks to my roommate and I watching Batman: The Animated Series together.

So I can’t necessarily say easily “this is how I do it” because ideas come from just about anywhere. And that’s the fun of it! Look for inspiration in the media you consume, the dreams you have, the things you learn at school/work/etc. But you don’t want to overthink every single thing you encounter— you want your brain to have time to idle, too. Because sometimes the best ideas come when your mind has a chance to rest.

There is a general formula I tend to follow, though— 1) pick a setting, 2) pick an interesting character trait, and 3) pick a problem that needs to be solved.

There are also a TON of idea generation tools out there. I don’t use this particular tool often anymore, but I own a deck of cards called “Storymatic”— the whole idea is that there are different prompts on each card, you draw two or three cards and combine those prompts.

Now, of course, that’s something that requires Buying, but it’s not impossible to make something like this on your own— index cards and a random noun or phrase generator would probably do the trick.

But anyways, there are SO many ways to come up with ideas and no one way is correct! I really hope this ramble of a post helped you out— I wish you the best of luck with your fanfic!

[underforeversgrace]

healing the wounds we hid - 4

title: healing the wounds we hid

words: 3,067

Finally, the sequel to broken trust and the wounds hidden behind! (Refresh here on AO3 or here on Tumblr)

Story Summary: Now that his father knows, Danny's life is changing for the better. Jack encourages him to let his friends and the rest of the family into his small word. Unbeknownst to Danny, Jack is secretly worried about how Maddie will react to the news upon her return to Amity - and how to confront Vlad once Jack learns his true identity. Amidst it all, an enemy lurks and plots their revenge.

Chapter 4 of 11: Knowing You

AO3

Tumblr Chapter One

(Tumblr Chapter Four will be here)

Beta by: @probably-dead and @scarletsaphire!

Featuring art from this fic's second artist, @saxonroa!

Note: This one was already published to AO3, but apparently I never published it here! My bad!

~~~~~~

Jack stared at the mansion as the GAV idled, hesitating with his hand on the key in the ignition. It was the day after he’d learned the truth about Vlad, and now it was time to confront him. Some part of him wondered if he should let Danny know what he was doing, but he was at school. It was time for the adults to talk anyway.

With a sense of finality, Jack turned the key and pulled it out, turning the vehicle off and jumping out of it. He double checked his suit, making sure he had multiple weapons, along with two personal ghost shields. Vlad Masters would be able to get through them, yes, but it would still keep his ecto attacks from hitting or his Plasmius form from getting too close.

Confident he had enough weapons to at least escape to the GAV, Jack held his head high as he marched towards Vlad’s front door. He knocked before he had the chance to second guess himself again.

He didn’t have to wait long before he heard the sound of the lock disengaging and Vlad opened the door, clad in a red robe, his white hair hanging loosely around his face.

“Jack. What a…pleasant…surprise.” Vlad said, schooling his expression into one of mild interest.

“Wish I could say the same,” Jack said as he body checked Vlad out of his way, crossing the threshold and closing the door behind him.

“What the butter puffs, Jack?” Vlad huffed in annoyance.

“You and I are going to have a talk,” Jack said, glaring at Vlad, pulling himself up to his full height.

Vlad at least had the common courtesy to look concerned. “Whatever about, my old friend?”

“Cut the bullshit, Vlad. I know.”

“You know what?” He asked, rolling his eyes.

“I figured it out. You blame me, don’t you?”

“Jack, I’m afraid I don’t -“

“Stop messing with me, Plasmius!” Jack shouted. “I know what you are, I know who you are! But what I don’t understand is why? You reviewed the math, Maddie reviewed the chemical compositions. We all messed up! Yet you blame me? And decide to beat my son bloody because of something that happened before he was even born?”

The faux friendliness fell from Vlad’s face, settling into a scowl. “Jack, stop talking nonsense.”

Jack grunted in frustration and walked past Vlad, to the living room just beyond the foyer.

The other man groaned and began to speak but Jack cut him off.

“Why didn’t you tell me? I get Danny, he was afraid. But you? Why hide it?”

Vlad narrowed his eyes accusingly at Jack. “You never visited. Five years in that hospital and neither of you ever came to see me.”

“We tried!” Jack said, stunned. “We tried for weeks to see you but you were under quarantine. And then you were better but accepting no visitors and then you were discharged and never talked to us. We thought you hated us. We thought you’d forgiven us when you invited us to the reunion."

Vlad’s face twisted in anger. “Forgiven you? You’re even dumber than I thought you were, Jack. You killed me! Your negligence cost me my life! But I made it better, didn’t I? Turned your fuck up into a gift. Created Plasmius, created an empire of wealth for myself. I may have given the ghost a name, but you’re the one who created this!” He shouted and then black rings were around his waist, so similar and yet so strikingly different than Danny’s, and Jack could only watch while his chest ached in shame. “How does it feel to have created not just one monster, but two? Remember when we contemplated the idea of hybridism in college? All the things we could do and learn from a thing like that, before we laughed it off as a joke because how could such a freak of nature ever exist? I’ve been trying to kill you for twenty years, Jack! And now your ridiculous child can’t even keep a secret?”

Jack listened to Vlad’s rant, the heavy blanket of guilt pressing further into him the longer he talked. Plasmius breathed angrily, his red eyes burning into Jack with rage Jack had never known Vlad able to possess.

A canyon of silence stretched between them. Jack fidgeted, running his hand through his hair as he tried to gather his thoughts and break it.

“Danny didn’t tell me. I figured it out - figured out both of you. He doesn’t know I know.”

“Wow, a rare moment of Jack Fenton brilliance,” Plasmius said, mockery and anger dripping from his tone like venom. 

“Why am I here?” Jack asked.

“You practically break into my house and you’re asking me why you’re here?” Vlad asked, the shift from fury to bewilderment so instantaneous it was nearly amusing.

“Not here as in your house. Here, in general. Alive. Breathing.” He asked cautiously, wondering how much of the Vlad he had known was left in his friend.

“Daniel is quite protective,” he growled. “Constantly interferes with my plans and saves everyone. Even for people who’d kill him.”

“He’s also only fifteen. He hasn’t even been de-“ Jack choked on the word “-dead for two years. And I’m only human.” Vlad was silent as he processed Jack’s question, so Jack continued, his voice tired. “You’re one of the richest men in the world. I’m oblivious, but not that oblivious. You could’ve hired someone to murder me and make it look like an accident. But I’m still here.”

Jack felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders, crushing him into dust even as Plasmius came for him, hands outstretched. He vaguely remembered the weapons he’d brought with him as Vlad grabbed him by the neck and slammed him against the wall, but he suddenly found he didn’t care to use them, even as he grabbed at Vlad’s wrists and struggled for air.

At least Vlad wasn’t as cold as Danny.

“Maybe I wanted to do it with my own hands,” Vlad hissed, lifting Jack off his feet. Jack clawed at Vlad’s hands, desperate to be let down. “Maybe I needed to make sure you hurt as much as I did, suffer as much as I did! And now you offer yourself up to me on a platter!”

Jack couldn’t speak, becoming lightheaded as Vlad continued to strangle him. Looking into Vlad’s red, pupil-less eyes full of rage and pain, Jack began to wonder if he’d made a mistake, if the friend he’d known really had become someone capable of murder, when doubt and regret crossed Vlad’s face.

“Fuck!” Vlad shouted, releasing Jack from his grip. Jack fell to the floor two feet beneath him, collapsed onto his hands and knees as he breathed in the beautiful, cool air around him. “Fuck!” He repeated, blasting some of the furniture around them into pieces with his pink ecto rays. Plasmius floated down to the floor, and Jack wasn't sure if the tears forming in the ghost’s eyes were from anger or grief.

“Damn you, Jack Fenton,” Vlad hissed. “You and your perfect life, with the woman I love and the kids I always wanted! Why do you get everything? Why do you get to be happier than me? Why can’t I kill you?”

“‘Perfect life?’” Jack asked, his voice still a little breathless as he pushed himself to his feet. “You think my life is perfect? You can have it! Along with every mistake I’ve ever made! I killed you, my best friend! I killed my son. I’ve hunted him, hurt him! I only know now because I found a goodbye video he filmed in case I killed him again! I’ve pushed my daughter away. I’m terrified my wife is going to try to kill our son!” 

Tears fell as all the pain he’d masked since the video tumbled out, finally able to let out everything he’d kept within. “Do you want your son’s blood on your hands? Do you want to remember all the dreams you had of torturing him? Do you want to know he spent almost two years afraid you wouldn’t love him enough to not dissect him?”

The room began to blur as tears clouded his vision, as he cried so hard his chest burned. “Do you want to learn that someone else did do that to him? And he still feared you too much to come for help, that he stitched up his own vivisection wound? Because if you want all of that, you can have it! All the guilt, all the pain, all the things I’ve broken. Do you still want my perfect life? Because I don’t!”

The two men looked at each other as Jack finished his breakdown, before a bitter laugh escaped Vlad. “Ironic. Of the two of us, I’m the one who wants to kill, yet you’re the one with blood on your hands.”

All the energy Jack had previously had vanished, and he sagged against the same wall he’d been pinned to. “I have to live with my mistakes. So believe me when I say living is worse, when I have to face my mistakes every day. Maybe that’ll make you feel better, Vlad.”

“Hmph,” Vlad said, black rings sweeping across him again, turning him back to Masters. “That does bring me some happiness.”

“Wonderful,” Jack said dryly, looking around at the mess - and lack of intact furniture. He sighed, sliding to the floor, exhausted after letting out all the shame he’d buried so deep.

Awkward silence settled between the two.

“I’m sorry, Vlad.”

~~~~~~

Danny yawned as his friends bickered, poking at the food in front of him. It was nice, to be back here with them. It’d been a few days since they’d found out - he’d told them on Monday afternoon and it was now Friday - and his fear had largely faded away. He’d been so worried they’d be okay with it and then realize that he was a freak, a monster, and grow afraid of him, that they’d out him to the town and the government. But they’d accepted him back with open arms, even insisting on joining him on patrol (once he showed them how to use a blaster and told them in no uncertain terms that if it got too dangerous, they needed to run). 

He felt Tucker elbow him gently. “Yo, you good? You’re playing with your food instead of eating again.” Tucker asked.

“You’ve been doing that a lot. Do you just… not eat as much anymore?” Sam added, dropping her voice at the end.

The urge to lie bubbled up against his lips, but he forced it down. He kept having to remind himself that he didn’t need to lie anymore, not to these two. “Not recently,” he admitted. “I’ve been losing my appetite the past three or four weeks. It had actually increased for a long time after the accident, but now I’m just not hungry.”

Sam pursed her lips thoughtfully. “So around the time your dad started helping you?”

Danny paused as he thought back, though he also felt an odd stirring in his core. Sam and Tucker had listened to every story he told with rapt attention and it made him feel… loved?… that Sam had remembered a detail that small. “Uh, yeah, actually you’re right. Weird. I wonder if it’s related, but how would it be?”

“Okay, don’t freak out,” Sam said and Danny was struck by how unhelpful that sentence was as his initial reaction was to freak out. “I have an idea.”

Danny glanced at Tucker to see if he had any clue what Sam was talking about, but he just shrugged. He didn’t miss the way Tucker’s eyes lingered on him a little longer than necessary before Tucker returned his attention to Sam. This wasn't the first time he had noticed those glances and everytime he did, he had to bury the fear it was Tucker doubting him. He couldn’t explain how he knew that wasn’t it, but somehow he just… knew. Besides, he didn’t… entirely mind them.

“So, you know how some ghosts can sense and feed off emotions?” Sam asked, leaning forward to whisper.

“Uh, yeah?” Danny said with a frown, Spectra coming to mind. He’d told them about his encounters with her, but that was the only feeder ghost he knew of.

“Well, I’ve been doing some reading,” Sam said, patting at her backpack, “and it looks like that’s a common trait. Let me ask - has your appetite dropped even more since telling Tucker and me about you?”

Tucker took a deep breath at Danny’s side, while Danny forgot how to breathe, both realizing what she was saying at the same time. Danny’s eyes widened as he realized Sam was right. He did have another dip in appetite after Sam and Tucker had re-entered his life.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” she said, pulling a book - A Goth’s Guide to Ghosts: The Symbiotic Relationship of the Dying and the Dead - out and flipping through it, looking for a specific page. She set the book down, turning it so he and Tucker could read it, pointing at the title of the chapter.

“Emotions and their Nutritional Value?” Tucker read aloud.

Sam nodded, then pointed to a passage further down. “Look here.”

Danny pulled the book closer to him. “‘While most ghosts feed on the negative emotions of people - one of the reasons why ghosts like to hang around the standard goth - some have been theorized to find more sustenance on the emotions of the happy. Therefore, when first attempting to contact your ghostly suitor, it is imperative to ensure the ghost can get appropriate energy from you and your emotions.’”

“Is this a book about keeping ghosts as pets?” Tucker asked, eyes continuing to scan the page.

Danny felt like cement had been poured down his throat. He couldn’t eat human emotions. He couldn’t.

“Honestly, I don’t know, some parts read like the ghost is the pet and others like the human is,” Sam shrugged. “But it has some good information, and that wasn’t the point I was making.”

“You think Danny can eat our emotions?” Tucker said, brows furrowed in confusion.

Danny could barely hear the conversation over his heart thudding against his rib cage, the sound of whooshing blood loud in his ears. He was human. Human. Sure, he’d come to terms with being half ghost (and therefore half dead), but he still felt more human than ghost. If he could eat emotions and not need real food, was he becoming more ghostly?

Was his ghost half overpowering his human half?

“I think so,” Sam confirmed, her voice sounding so far away. "His dad and the two of us? I think he’s sensing, I don’t know… companionship? Safety?”

“Love?” Tucker questioned. Sam nodded, opening her mouth to say something else, but Tucker had realized Danny’s silence wasn’t thoughtfulness - it was panic. “Danny?” he said, shaking Danny’s shoulder gently.

“I can’t,” Danny said hoarsely, shaking his head, refusing to accept it even if he knew it was true.

“Danny, it’s okay. There’s nothing wrong with it.” Tucker said gently.

“You aren’t hurting us. The book talks about how it isn’t harmful to humans. We didn't even notice it was happening until now. Spectra sought pain and depression, that’s why she was dangerous.” Sam agreed, reaching across the table and patting the back of one of Danny’s hands.

“How can you be okay with this?” Danny choked out. “You guys, my dad. I’m a freak of nature and you all act like it’s fine. I don’t understand.”

“We’re your friends and your dad’s, well, your dad. It’s fine because it’s you,” Sam said.

“So no more moping about being weird, ‘cuz everyone at this table is a freak,” Tucker added with a laugh and pulled a reluctant smile from Danny. “You’re our friend and we’re not going anywhere. Besides!” Tucker continued, pulling Danny’s plate of spaghetti from in front of him. “Now I get more free food!”

The smile felt weird on his face as he glanced between his two friends. “You’re sure? You still… want to be around me?” He asked. Even though they’d said so many times, he still struggled to believe it.

“You’re the one who can eat our emotions,” Tucker said as if it was the most normal thing in the world. “Are we lying?”

“Or are we just happy to be around you?” Sam added.

Danny hesitated, then closed his eyes and focused on… something. Something within him - like his core but not. There, he could feel it, feel them. Joy, respect, loyalty floated within him, though they were definitely not his own emotions. Shockingly, though, love - romantic love - was one of the brightest and strongest he sensed. He couldn’t tell how he knew, but when he opened his eyes and stared at Tucker in shock, he knew it was Tucker the love was coming from, even before Tucker gave him a shy smile.

Well. That explained the lingering glances recently.

“You’re telling the truth.” Danny said, smiling at Tucker before he turned to look at Sam. That was a conversation for just the two of them, for when they were alone.

“Told you so,” Tucker and Sam said at the same time, pulling a genuine laugh from him.

Two months ago, Danny had been convinced he’d spend the rest of his life suffering alone, especially after his time with the Guys in White (a story he hadn’t told Sam and Tucker and never planned to). 

For so long, Danny had accepted his existence was to suffer, to be bled and broken and bruised over and over, to serve his penance for opening the portal, alone and in agony until he died again. He’d accepted his friends’ hatred, his family’s disdain for one half of him and their disappointment in the other. He’d decided that while his life wasn’t worth fighting for, everyone else’s was, no one else deserved to die for his mistake.

But as he nonchalantly placed his hand on the bench near Tucker’s and their fingers entwined, as Sam changed topics as though this entire conversation hadn’t been impossible, as he remembered everything his father had done for him… he decided that, maybe, just maybe, he was worth fighting for, too.

[senseandaccountability]

twenty questions for fic writers

tagged by @mightymizora (thank youuu)

1. How many works do you have on AO3? 94. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count? 1,108,787, ahahaha. I’ve been at it for like 20 years though. 3. What fandoms do you write for? Baldur’sGate 3, Cyberpunk 2077, Mass Effect, Dragon Age and Lucifer make up the bulk of my fics but I’ve dabbled in some more fandoms.  4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

There are names for what binds us - (DAI; Blackwall/Trevelyan) The free parking jackpot rule - (Lucifer; Lucifer/Chloe) Blaze Me a Sun - (BG3; Astarion/Tav) And Hate the Idle Pleasures of These Days - (Lucifer; Michael/Ella) Kiss by Kiss I Cover Your Small Infinity - (Lucifer; Lucifer/Chloe)

5. Do you respond to comments? I always try to!

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending? All of my A Song of Ice and Fire fics are angsty since they’re about women who die in various horrible ways. But I’m generally more of a bittersweet writer, I think. 7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending? Like I said, I lean towards the bittersweet and most endings are more sweet than bitter.Compared to canon outcomes I’d say my Michael fics for the Lucifer fandom are the happiest ones because you can’t give me a wretched, bitter, jealous mirror to Most Loved Boi Lucifer and not expect me to root for him in some way. 8. Do you get hate on fics? Not since my Jamie/Brienne drabbles ended up on a rabid Jamie/Cersei reclist. I also had some snippy comments/PMs on a Michael fic where I closed down Hell because Lucifer the show gave me an American Dream ending with self-improvement through therapy in Hell instead of questioning revenge as a moral solution. 9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind? Gods, I used to. Not so much now, no. It’s just not that interesting to me anymore, I rather write around the smut. The kind of smut I like to write is emotionally intense and/or angsty, at any rate.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written? Very, very rarely. I’m uninterested in reading them myself but I’ve used crossover as a concept in two stories: Troy Lies in Ruins (Cyberpunk 2077) in which Johnny is the Clementine inside V’s head and I use Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind as inspiration for their post-game quest to find each other again.

The Gods That Answer After Dark (Lucifer) in which I crossover Deckerstar with the novel The Invisible Life of Addie LaRue and had a chance to shut down that damned hell again.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen? Yes, someone more or less paraphrased my Johnny/V fic And your heart, as it was then, will be on fire by posting their own fic with pretty much entire paragraphs stolen from mine. I didn’t do anything about it, though, it had no comments/kudos at the time. 

12. Have you ever had a fic translated? Yes, it was flattering. 

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before? I don’t think so, not that I can recall. I’d be up for it, though, it would be kind of cool to co-write a romance story where two authors write two different characters. 

14. What’s your all-time favorite ship? I don’t think I can pick just one. 

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish, but doubt you ever will? I always intend to finish the WIPs. That said, it would require a lot of willpower to return to the oldest WIPs I have, by now. 16. What are your writing strengths? I think I’m good at concepts, characters and hopefully keeping a distinct sort of style. I used to be more pretentious. I think my writing has become better by dropping some of the most literary concepts in favour of focusing on emotions and social dynamics. 

17. What are your writing weaknesses? Plot? I think I could write plot - I like to plan stories out - but I don’t really want to dedicate time to write it. I’m also really bored by action and exposition. Ugh at having to explain and describe shit beyond a tightly packed sentence or two.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic? I don’t even understand this question and will blame it on English being my second language. 

19. First fandom you wrote for? The Legend of the Ice People, oh my lord. If only for my desk drawer. https://www.amazon.com/The-Legend-of-the-Ice-People-19-book-series/dp/B075TY2F5M The US version of the covers have removed ALL suggestive and thrillingly forbidden vibe from the original though. What 13 year old me loved about them was that the first book was about a horny 16 year old girl who falls in love with a 40 something demonic and cursed (also solitary and very angsty) dude after having intense sex dreams about him as Satan. Every book after that just added to the cocktail of sex, history and ancient curses and for years so much of what I wrote was fanfic versions of this series.  20. Favorite fic you’ve ever written? I’m rather fond of this Aeducan/Gorim story: so I wait for you like a lonely house

I'm tagging @wanderingaldecaldo, @thievinghippo, @icescrabblerjerky and @threewhiskeylunch if you're up for it. Otherwise feel free to ignore.

[writingsofhubris-a]

4, 7, 17, 18? I spend too much time deciding on a font

Thank you so very much for the ask!!

4. a story idea you haven’t written yet

Oh my god so first idea I've been meaning to do was very shortly after I got the Murder on Eridanos DLC. There is a line that Max says, or a line that's said next to max about the Captain being the inspector instead of Captain for a bit, right? Well, I found this reddit thread a while ago and I cannot for the life of me find it again, that connected a lot of Max's actions to alcoholism (The OSI vial in his room, when he's in the penthouse one of his idle animations is drinking from a flask, him in the last hope with Parvati, etc).

Well, I have a fic that's started, and it brings together Max being drunk, an offhand line from his about sweets being forbidden, as well as some like... title play with the Captain.

7. your preferred writing fonts

If I'm working on one shots, I usually stick with Arial at 11 pt(The standard google drive settings), but if I'm working on something with some real length and depth (such as Cabinet Man or Portrait of A Lady) I'll usually write my first drafts in Courier new at like 5 pt. I find it's easier to write a stream of consciousness if I can't seen the words super clearly.

17. talk about your writing and editing process

Talking very generally, most of my fics start with a one page document where I kind of shot gun blast my brain storm. A small scene is created first, only to build from there.

If It's a multichapter, I do make a bulletpoint list, and a plot chart dependign on how I want the action to flow. During this process, if a chapter decides that it wants to be written, I'll usually just take a moment from the plotting to draft out the thoughts. if it doesn't make it into the final cut, usually I'll keep some dialogue or it was needed to flesh out a problem that was going to arise in the plotting section.

I'll jump around the plot points I detailed, writing 500-1000 word chapters as I see fit. Then, i'll flesh out those chapter discriptions into real chapters, reading the bridges between chapters to see if anything's missing. At that point, I like to set the fic aside for a couple weeks and work on other writings to let it stew and settle.

Once I get to editing, that's when i bump the font size up to 11 and go to town with reordering sentences, working on tense of sentences, swapping scenes and chapters around, and whatever else I need to do to make the story flow with as minimal plot points missing as I can.

18. if you keep them, share a deleted sentence or paragraph from a published fic

I have exactly one line, and it was from a fic with Maxim Horvath from a couple years ago.

"The smell of fear coming from you…. Addictive." The voice curled around the room, tightened around columns and betwixt cobwebs.