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vaxieth · 1 year ago

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because something really did ask, have a much too long post about my thoughts on laudna’s individual dynamics with the rest of bells hells.

under the cut because it’s almost 3000 words.

laudna/imogen

i struggle to find something to say about imogen and laudna that hasn’t already been said a million times before. the core concept—the thesis—of their arcs, together and separately, is choice. so much of their backstories are defined by helplessness. laudna was chosen and killed because she happened to look like someone else, she was resurrected because she happened to be there. imogen’s mother left, she was burdened with powers she didn’t understand and meant constant pain and isolation. so, they make sure to constantly emphasize that the other person has a choice in everything. imogen tells laudna she only has to come back if she wants to, even though it would have devastated her to lose laudna forever. laudna tells imogen that the gods can’t control her, that no matter what her “destiny” is, if she wants, they can leave and live in a little cottage and raise horses together. the way they love each other unconditionally is all the more incredible given how cruel the world was to them for so long. laudna’s “you make me better” is true for both of them. they give each other a place to be vulnerable and feel all their messiest, worst feelings because they know the other one won’t judge them. they’ll support each other no matter the choices they make.

something i’ve mentioned quite a few times but never gone in depth about is that imogen and laudna do have a fairly significant age difference, and i do think that affects their dynamic. on the one hand, they both have a bit of arrested development—imogen due to her isolation from the rest of gelvaan from 18-26, laudna because she died at 20. on the other, laudna has so much more life experience than imogen. she spent almost 30 years traveling and interacting with the world even if was mostly people trying to kill her, maybe even because of that. the “laudna is imogen’s aunt/mother/older sister” takes were obviously ridiculous, but laudna does canonically look at imogen and see someone young who she wants to protect in a way she never was. she said as much to fcg after the gnarlrock fight. laudna acts as imogen’s rock, her tether if you will, a lot of the time, and part of the reason she can counterbalance imogen’s anxiety is because of the experience that comes with age. for example, during their conversation in episode 49, laudna is able to stay more “rational” and level-headed even when imogen is scared and overwhelmed.

one of my other favorite things about them, specifically from laudna’s point of view, is that with a few exceptions (the gnarlrock fight, her jealousy of frida), she doesn’t seem insecure about their relationship. again, during episode 49, laudna mentions that she knows they haven’t talked in a while, but she didn’t worry because they “transcend words.” she didn’t need outside assurance from imogen because she felt confident in their love for each other. something i love about that episode 39-49 period is that they didn’t interact a lot, but when they did, they slipped right about in the same kind of intimacy they’d always had—imogen holding launda’s hand when they went into her dream together, laudna’s protectiveness of imogen after she interacted with ludinus. but anyway—that confidence is why i believe the transition from friends to lovers was so easy for laudna. laudna’s unsure of herself, of delilah and what she might do, but she’s absolutely not unsure of the love between her and imogen. that’s why as soon as imogen tells her she’s not a bad person, that she wants to be with laudna in that way, she lets herself embrace it entirely.

in conclusion: they invented romance, they’re the best canon pairing critical role has ever had and one of the best dynamics in general, etc., etc.

laudna/orym

oh my god, WHERE to begin? i feel like my take on their dynamic is slightly controversial. at the very least, i get more push back from people when i post about it than anything else, so let me start with this: orym cares deeply about laudna, i will never dispute that. however, orym is uncomfortable with laudna and has been since the very beginning of the campaign. she’s his friend and he recognizes her beautiful heart and resilient spirit, but he’s uncomfortable with her appearance and her messages in his head, with her macabre humor and her deadness. he can’t reconcile that laudna his friend and laudna the dead woman can’t be separated. laudna’s deadness is a part of her, one laudna embraces. orym, for better or worse, is “normal.” he grew up with a loving family and he had a husband and a career. will and derrig’s deaths were an unbelievable tragedy but one that never challenged his place within the status quo. (sidenote: i’ve always wondered if part of orym’s discomfort with laudna come from the fact that her proximity to death is a reminder of the resurrections will and derrig never got.) he sees himself as a follower, someone that doesn’t stand out, then there’s laudna, who does nothing but stand out.

something i find fascinating is that orym is the first person to find out laudna’s backstory, and it affects him so much he can’t sleep that night and takes a point of exhaustion. he even explicitly recognizes the dehumanization she’s gone through and how laudna’s relationship with puppets like pate and sashimi mirror that. yet, he still never apologizes for trying to disguise her appearance, something without even asking. yes, i get it’s tactical and for “safety” (though that argument falls a bit flat for me when there’s also a glowing rock person and a fully conscious automaton in the group, but whatever), but it still hurts laudna. even beyond that, orym always qualifies his friendship with laudna to other person, making some mention of how she’s dead-looking and isn’t that crazy, wow, almost as if he wants some validation that it—laudna—is weird (one he, interestingly, rarely ever gets, given how enraptured most of the other pcs, including guests, and even some npcs, are with her). he does this even in situations he absolutely doesn’t need to like, for example, when maeve says laudna “looks cooler than i thought.” all this just sucks. it’s not that the love isn’t there, it is. it just isn’t unconditional, and laudna deserves better than that.

finally: the delilah in the room. no, it isn’t orym’s “fault” delilah is back. yes, he was also having an extremely bad time during the bor’dor fight and it wasn’t his “responsibility” to save laudna from herself, but laudna is orym’s friend. he listened to laudna tell him the trauma delilah put her through, he fought through hell to save laudna from her, and still nodded because part of him thought maybe delilah could help him and that was selfish. the fight against ludinus is important to of the bells, but for orym, it’s personal. it’s been his mission for six years. meanwhile, laudna is the one with the least enthusiasm about this. she has no connection to the gods. in fact, she actively thinks they dislike her, but he’s willing to sacrifice not just his safety, but the safety of her and all his friends for a cause they never set out to fight for.

in conclusion: i want to put them in a salad mixer together and watch them go around and around and around and around and around, then let them out to scream at each other a little.

laudna/ashton

if i had to explain laudna and ashton’s dynamic in one word, it would be “projection.” i adore their relationship, it’s one of my top 5 c3 dynamics, but oh my god, so much projection, and it’s so interesting because of that. ashton thinks he understands laudna, but in reality, he doesn’t at all. i’m an absolute sucker for characters that look very different on the surface but in reality are much more similar than they know, and ashton and laudna are that to a tee. they are very much narrative parallels especially regarding their feelings of “brokenness” and how their traumas are physical, visual parts of themselves, but the ways they diverge are almost more interesting.

certain people have said that her conversations with ashton are the only time laudna is “honest” or that, at the very least, she’s more honest with him than she is with anyone else, and i couldn’t disagree more. laudna can be a joyful, optimistic person and deeply traumatized with a core anger she hasn’t truly processed. laudna is a high-charisma character, and in my opinion, part of how that manifests is her ability to adapt her demeanor to the person she’s talking to. she speaks gently to imogen the same way she matches chetney’s hyperactive energy when they go sky-sailing. of course when she’s with ashton, who makes no effort to hide his anger and bitterness and doesn’t want her to be soft, she isn’t. none of these laudnas are more “real” than the others, they’re all laudna. what those people, and ironically, ashton themself, don’t get, or won’t let himself get, is that all those things can be true at once.

with ashton specifically, i don’t think they want to believe that because then they’d have to admit that growth and healing is a real possibility because anger is so much easier to deal with. people talk most about orym’s choices during the bor’dor fight most, but i’m fascinated by ashton’s as well. i wouldn’t be surprised if there was a part, no matter how small, that wanted laudna to break, to prove to himself that he was right and laudna was just as broken and fucked-up as them. so, laudna killing bor’dor was almost vindication, evidenced by their “what have i done?” “nothing i haven’t done.” exchange afterwards.

i don’t want this to sound like ashton doesn’t care about launda, they do. ashton cares about her so much, and besides imogen and fearne, is the most unabashedly into laudna’s aesthetic. i love how much they love all the weird shit she does. i love how protective ashton is of laudna, especially during battles and their willingness to go above and beyond for her—he carried laudna when she was dead despite his chronic pain without complaining once and were willing to make a deal with hexum after going through an entire museum heist to repay their debt. i love the moments when ashton sees how much laudna is struggling and tells her, as gently as he can, to take a moment and do what she can to ground herself. i love that when laudna way too dramatically assumes they kidnapped imogen, their response is “that’s very fair.” it’s all wonderful, and i love them.

in conclusion: I LOVE THEM SO MUCH AND I WANT TO LOCK THEM IN A ROOM AND FORCE THEM TO TALK ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS FOR HOURS.

laudna/fcg

laudna and fcg have been getting more attention in the past few days for obvious reasons and that has me rubbing my hands together maniacally because even though they have very little actual interaction, the subtext is delicious.

besides ashton, fcg might be the character laudna parallels the most, especially their struggle with their humanity (if they’re even human at all), which isn’t helped by the constant dehumanization they face from outsiders, including the almost continuous comments they get when they meet someone new. people look at launda and see a horror while they look at fcg and see a novelty (he’s a robot with personality??), and those both suck. i think, for fcg, laudna is an uncomfortable reflection of himself because everything they’re afraid is true about themself is true about laudna. finding out they had a soul was such an important moment for his character (also remember his early campaign habit of calling other people “soul-touched folks”). as a hollow one, who knows if laudna even has a soul. if i’m honest, fcg seems to think less of laudna than the rest of the party (see: him calling her a “former person,” his speech before casting turn undead including, “no offense to laudna but can you please shine your light and wipe these evil, dead souls off the face of this flat planet?”) and that’s probably why. they have such strict ideas about “good,” which has become “godly,” and “wrong,” (“ungodly”), and within that framework, everything seemed to point to laudna as “ungodly,” which is why their empathy towards her is lacking.

the biggest conflict between fcg and laudna right now is obviously their feelings on the gods. the changebringer brought fcg purpose and tangibly helps them on a daily basis. of course they want to share this incredible thing with everyone they meet, especially his friends. yet, time-and-time again, the world has shown laudna the gods don’t seem to care about her. before someone says anything, pike resurrecting laudna doesn’t automatically mean she has to trust the gods. clerics and paladins spent 30 years running her out of towns for existing and trying to kill her in the name of their gods. if the circumstances were different, there’s a good chance fcg could have been one of those people. for fcg, the world is black-and-white. for laudna, it’s all gray. laudna was able to have a conversation with imogen about the ruby vanguard’s message and the purpose of the gods because she understands the need to question things and thinks that’s a good thing even if she doesn’t agree with the conclusions. fcg’s not there yet, and until he is, their friendship with laudna will never be able to progress past where it is now.

in conclusion: please have a conversation, maybe even two or three. it’d be so good for fcg to learn the world’s incredible nuances and for laudna to see how faith in the gods can be an empowering force for good, not just something beyond her grasp.

laudna/fearne

out of all launda’s dynamics, this is the one i desperately want more of. we’ve gotten so little! almost all their moments are interactions between the three witches that tend to center imogen (making the red-string friendship bracelets and comforting imogen after she talked with relvin come to mind) OR center imogen and fearne’s mutual appreciation for laudna’s… everything. one of my favorite about fearne is that, like imogen, she doesn’t think laudna is gross and creepy, she thinks laudna is gorgeous and charming without any caveats. even ashton, who also loves laudna’s laudnaness, tends more towards “yeah, you’re disgusting and THAT’S why it’s great.”

the other main part of their dynamic i want to sink my teeth into is the coin-toss, more specifically fearne’s guilt over the coin toss. regardless of whether you think fearne lied (i personally find that headcanon FASCINATING but to each their own), she clearly feels so many emotions about having to pick whether to save laudna and orym that she hasn’t even begun to unpack. one of the few sole moments we’ve gotten of them was in episode 42 when laudna asked fearne to help teach her to cast fireball, and in it, fearne, unprompted, blurts out, “how’s it feel being alive again?” almost immediately. she also apologizes to laudna, says they’ll fight any piece of delilah that’s still in there, and tells her, “i missed you terribly for that moment in time.” even when laudna gives her the chance to make the conversation light-hearted, fearne stays so genuine, which is all the more-noteworthy because she’s usually so flippant and almost always keeps her real feelings close to her chest.

some other examples of fearne’s guilt include: the 4sd where ashley said part of why she was so protective over imogen during their separation arc was that she couldn’t bear having to tell laudna anything happened to her and just this past episode when fearne’s protectiveness after laudna made her only cast first-level cure wounds on fcg after they cast turn undead.

in conclusion: PLEASE LET THEM INTERACT MORE. THERE’S SO MUCH JUICY POTENTIAL AND I WANT TO SEE IT EXPLORED.

laudna/chetney

i don’t have that much to say about them except that their dynamic is absolutely delightful. i love that we’ve gotten to see more of it in recent episodes, and i hope that continues.

chetney exists at an interesting place between orym’s genuine discomfort and fearne and imogen’s complete enchantment with laudna’s undeadness. he is sometimes grossed out, but he also seems to accept it as a thing about laudna without too much judgment, or at least, that “judgment” is light-hearted in a way orym’s or even fcg’s isn’t.

i love that they’re the characters with the most life experience (even if laudna is technically the fourth oldest, fcg only has two years of memory and fearne is a 100+ but spent 99% of that time in one place) but also embrace being “childish” and silly together, like the entire sky-sail sequence!

in conclusion: *gently holds* i just think they’re neat!

that’s all! if you read this whole thing, you get my eternal love and gratitude. thank you.

#laudna #imodna #laudmoore #orym #fresh cut grass #fearne calloway #chetney pock o'pea #bells hells #critical role #my posts #textpost #i’m weirdly more nervous about posting this on here than on twitter #but i spent like three hours writing and am pretty proud of the result #in case it isn’t clear i want to reiterate that i love ALL these characters #including orym and fcg #but they aren’t perfect #that’s what makes their dynamics so interesting!

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loovetiiedd · 29 days ago

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Ego is something so refined and inaccessible that human beings become victims to its way of thinking.

Here’s the thing, part of living in the first part of your life is developing an ego and getting a sense of what it means to support yourself. But I feel like as people get older they can’t think past what they have already established themselves as.

If you grow up and you completely imagine yourself as someone that has a really good music taste, maybe because people tell you your music is fire or because you listen to a lot of music all the time, your probably going to grow into the mindset and expectation that you have good music taste. This being your ego.

I feel like there is a huge moment of release that comes with a lot of power when you are able to say that you are letting go of this aspect of your ego. Like it’s happened to me a couple times and genuinely it’s amazing to fully feel like you are not tied down to your inner self and what you might hold onto for survival. Because genuinely I feel like a lot of people would not be anything without their ego because it’s raised them.

To be flesh and bones withought some external validation is literally the exact same as an unhealthy relationship, relying only on your partner to give you any feelings of love, when you can access that abundantly in yourself.

I find myself thinking in third person a lot, like what would this be perceived as if I was someone younger than me, looking for inspiration or validation? My ego can feel like a big brother watching down on me alll the time, which I hate.

I’m trying to raise myself into someone that can access the ego but not let it define me as a human. There are cool things I do and aspects to myself that I’d consider awesome, but who would I be if those things went away?

Would I love myself and defend who I was if I didn’t have on a fit from my collection of clothes I’ve spent years collecting? IDK!!! But I know and am confident that I am moving forward and that I am making an effort to move into being an adult with more than material egotistical brainwash.

Just my thoughts

#ego #talk #myopinion #my thoughts #food for thought #psychology #sociology #conversation #writing #text #TedTalk #the moon is out rn

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idkitsjustmeandmyself · 2 years ago

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Warning: long rant about change and love below. I've been having Thoughts and decided to yell them to the void

i love my friends i love my friends i love my friends. i think it’s important to look back and see how much you’ve changed over the years and it’s easy to see the obvious things like interests and fashion and school but sometimes i catch myself thinking about just how much my thoughts have changed and i wonder how they’re gonna change later in life. i’ve been thinking about how the way i love and view love has changed a lot recently and how grateful i am that i get to love so many people so deeply, and i remember being a little kid maybe three or four and thinking about how much i loved the animals around me and i thought there was no way i could love anything more than how i loved the little june bug sitting on my hand or the grasshopper i’d been trying to catch for the past hour. i remember growing up a little more being maybe six or seven now and realizing how much i loved my brother, we were partners in crime and i cherished every moment we spent together, i remember feeling guilty because i knew i was supposed to love my parents as much if not more than i loved my brother but he raised me more than they ever did. i didn’t fully understand it at the time to me he was just my best friend and i didn’t understand why anybody wouldn’t be best friends with their sibling, and as i continued to get older i became aware of mental health and the impacts of depression and anxiety i watched my brother struggle with both these things and remember thinking how i wouldn’t be able to survive without him there next to me. back in eighth and ninth grade i used to brag about how little i cried, i would brag about how the last time i cried outside of a physical injury was when i was eight years old (which was true by the way) but freshman year i was confronted with many of my friends experiencing similar issues as my brother, they too were struggling with depression and suicidal ideation and again i felt guilty that i couldn’t get myself to cry over the thought of them dying, and i tried to think of every person i had ever loved dying and the only one that finally got me to cry was the thought of my brother dying. this was how i defined love, i mean i thought i loved my friends and the rest of my family and i did and i do but this separated my brother out from them, to me loving someone was when i couldn’t bare the thought of losing them.

a couple more years passed and i’m now dating my girlfriend, it wasn’t love at first sight and honestly i didn’t expect the relationship to last very long i was going for a short little fling something to occupy my time and keep me from getting bored but slowly i realized that i was falling in love with her, more than that she changed the way i loved and at first it was without me even knowing it. it took the general course of a relationship where it’s a bit obsessive then it’s comfortable then you can’t imagine or even remember your life without them. it honestly wasn’t until this past year that i realized the way i loved her was different than i had ever loved anything else. my love for her is infinite, it is an endless void that is all consuming. i can reach a hand in and pull out a miles worth of love and then i can reach in and pull out more. there is no direction there is no amount that would allow me to finally reach the end of it. i can think i’ve found it and think finally there is no way i could possibly love her more than i do right now, but then i go back and somehow there it is, still more. every time i am amazed and dumbfounded by how much love i have for her. there is so much that it flows into everything else i do. it is because of her that i know how to love all the things around me too.

i started this off by saying i love my friends because i do, i love them the same way i love my girlfriend, infinitely and ineffably. i think of my friends and i’ve never felt a greater joy, and i think of them again and again there is more joy and love then the last time i thought of them. before this past year i wouldn’t have been able to describe or understand what this kind of love feels like, i would’ve thought it was reserved for movies and poetry, a feeling to aspire to but never to reach. most of my friendships through out my life have been ones to keep away the boredom, they were friendships of convenience. i had them so i wasn’t alone at lunch and so teachers wouldn’t worry about me. they were there as a sort of interactive tv show, characters for silly stories that i could tell later on. there was no real connection, no matter how much i tried i couldn’t get myself to care as much as i had wanted to. i hadn’t really connected the dots until recently but it was probably because i moved around so much, why care about them if i was just gonna leave them in a year or so. this could explain why i felt connected to my high school friends more so than any of my other friends, i went to a boarding school so no matter where i lived i would still be able to to stay the entire four years, it was the most permanent a friendship had ever felt. i considered my high school friends to be the first real friends i ever had which i still think is true, but also remember thinking that was the most connected i could ever feel to someone which i know now is not true. i loved them and cared for them, but not in the way i love my friends now. the way i love my friends now impacts my entire world. it is because i love my friends that i also love the grass and the birds and the sun and the wind. it is because i love my friends that i also love classes and strangers and meals and studying. they taught me how to love the good things more and how to love the bad things too. the endless void of love isn’t big enough. even a void with no end or beginning doesn’t have enough space to fit all the love i feel and it overflows into the everyday. it leaks into loving the mundane and the gross because there is nowhere else for it to go. i never thought that i could love this much and certainly not for this many people. so i’ll say it again i love my friends i love my friends i love my friends

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neverenoughmarauders · 9 months ago

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Thank you so much for explaining all that! It’s the best explanation I’ve seen and I can see why people would feel that way. I can try to explain why I feel differently though I’ve got no idea how representative this is.

The importance of liking (or not liking) James

The thing I really hadn’t considered was how much hinges on whether one grows to care for James, as well as Remus and Sirius. My father died when I was young and I’ve got very few memories of him. But I was (so I’ve been told) far more similar to him than my two sisters. I would often be told how similar I was to him, and felt the same pride Harry often did when he was compared to James. Anyways, aside from how much SWM was a kick in the guts on a deeply personal and hurtful level, this might help to explain why I did develop affection for James, and not just Sirius and Remus. I honestly feel the first chapter in the PS(/SS) is one of the saddest in the series because Harry loses his parents/Lily and James dies and Sirius gets sent to Azkaban.

In my view Sirius is defined in the series through his love for James

In fact, my initial affection for Sirius was born from the love he shows Harry and James. It felt like you implied we don’t see Sirius show his love for James (it just stated) when I feel we basically see nothing but that throughout book three and four. Sirius thinks about avenging James throughout POA and he spends all of GOF by Harry’s side in Hogsmeade. If you believe Remus mattered all that much to Sirius then his choice to stay in Hogsmeade that year is all the more proof of how much he cares for Harry (and the way I see it, by extension, James). He could have been with Remus and still been quickly by Harry’s side if he needed to. Sirius completely loses it in GOF when Harry talks about his parents in the most heartbreaking way and it’s so unlike him. He shows so much emotions when it comes to James vs any other aspects and it gets to me.

I don’t think anyone believes Sirius couldn’t have a relationship with someone who wasn’t James. But a lot of the wolfstar fics I read there’s just no real basis for James and Sirius friendship which for me is the whole foundation of Sirius’ character/role in the series. Sirius was James’ best friend, which meant James trusted Sirius with switching secret keepers and he made Sirius Harry’s godfather thus giving him the roles he has in the books (escaped convict and father figure). I’ve read Sirius telling James things like: ‘you’re my best mate,’ in fics and I just want to scream: ‘where the hell is the proof of that? Every scene that I read is you and Remus pining or you and Remus bonding over how stupid and immature James is - when Sirius himself tells us that he was just as much a berk as James’.

It’s only in OOTP we get Remus and Sirius being together for more than a few hours - and Sirius is miserable

Maybe because of the long wait between book 4 and 5, maybe because 5 was just that much more longer but I’ve read the first four books far more often than the three last ones. This means I spent most time with Sirius pre-OOTP. Which means I don’t really have that connection to Remus and Sirius being together all that much. One of the reasons I find OOTP so hard to read (in addition to the ending) is because Sirius is so miserable. I know that’s Grimmauld Place but at no point do I get the feeling that Remus is close to fill the gap in Sirius life. In fact, the two times Sirius is described as genuinely cheerful in OOTP it has to do with James and Harry. It’s when he and Remus remembers James ruffling his hair and playing with the snitch, and it’s when Harry is over for Christmas (after we know Arthur won’t die). This for me just makes it come across as Remus isn’t nearly enough for Sirius. Also, Sirius doesn’t come and stay with Remus when he has a choice (after POA). Fine, he’s on the run but as we understand from the end of GOF he could clearly have ‘laid low’ at Remus’. Maybe Remus didn’t have a place as long as he was a teacher at Hogwarts, and then as we established, Sirius felt a need to be around Harry in GOF. But still, you can see how Sirius and Remus’ friendship isn’t that much of a focus except from being reunited briefly in POA (in which I’d still maintain the focus is on them wanting to avenge James).

I’ve always understood James to have been the glue of the Marauders

As for the Christmas present - Remus is poor and I never saw that present as anything other a way for friends to handle that situation. In fact, what Sirius does for Remus is not very different from what we know James used to do for Remus; help him financially. I’m not disputing they were close friends and I love the scene when Remus and Sirius are finishing each other’s sentences but we knew the marauders were tight. I can’t help but feel James was the glue of the marauders. James didn’t suspect his friends (much to his peril), he financed Remus when he couldn’t get a job, he took in Sirius when he ran away and he saved Snape from Sirius’ ‘prank’.

In my view, there’s room for Wolfstar but not prior to OOTP

Now finally, I’ve tried to avoid discussing the whole: Sirius thought Remus was the spy thing, but just to note I think there’s a lot of evidence that makes it hard to justify wolfstar prior to James’ death. I too see enough in the canon to see them have a relationship in OOTP, but I don’t see it as the soulmates that finally got each other. More like two people who have lost too much (friends, time, hope) and share what’s left.

Jily vs Prongsfoot vs Wolfstar

I can’t stand Jily stories without platonic prongsfoot just as I can’t stand wolfstar stories without platonic prongsfoot. As for full on prongsfoot I don’t really think anything else is needed. Prongsfoot is what’s fundamental to the story!

In conclusion - we are never going to see eye to eye because we picked up vastly different things

(Not to say this hasn’t been hugely enlightening!!!) I think it all comes down to what you weigh and what you latch onto in the story! I have always been attracted to ‘bromance stories’ whether it’d be real brothers that have each other’s back no matter what (Joe and Frank Hardy, Fred and George) or people who were like brothers (BBC’s Merlin/Arthur and Sirius/James - and in my view both are fun to ship romantically as well). To me, the Marauders would never have interested me without James and Sirius‘ friendship. I have always loved Remus, but I feel I get to follow his story in the main series in a way I never got Sirius or James’. For those stories, I need the marauders and the marauders era!

I feel like I missed the memo, y'know?

When I read POA, GOF and OOTP, I read about a man who was still grieving his best friend in this entire world. They were described as inseparable, compared to twins, and they clearly meant the world to each other. This man missed his friend and loved him so much that he continued to keep his own life on hold so he could take care of this best friend's son. And that's why I don't get Wolfstar. At no point did Remus come close to fill the gap Sirius experienced after losing James.

This isn't meant to be a bashing of the whole wolfstar genre thing. I think I'd really love it if it was a rare pairing, but how this became more normal to read about than Jily or Prongsfoot (surely that's the obvious marauder m/m ship?) I will never understand!?!

#james potter #sirius black #remus lupin #prongsfoot #this is mostly a discussion of the platonic side but relevant I think as a basis for the romantic side #so hopefully relevant tag?#platonic prongsfoot

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mariamariquinha · 2 years ago

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Bossa Nova (Benny ‘Borracho’ Magalon x f!reader) - Prologue

One

Summary: You got divorced. Happy New Year.

Word count: 1087 (almost a teaser)

Warnings: This piece has a lot of talks about male genitalia (you’ll get it), divorce talks, everyone here have a dirty mouth (which can be self indulgent, I’m trying to not curse that much) and Nick O’Brien.

Author’s Note: I opened my Google Docs, stared at it for like five minutes and then I’ve wrote this. This story will have a masterlist, don’t worry. This will also have discussions about a lot of adult things so... Yeah, if you’re looking for a fluffy thing, sorry.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Join my taglist! Don’t forget to reblog, comment and like! As always, I would love to know what you’re all thinking! ❤

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The table was neat – the most clean table you’ve ever seen, you could tell. Theodore sat there with nothing more than a numb expression, and maybe (just maybe) you’ve spent enough time crying over the end of the relationship by yourself for him to give you any other reaction than indifference.

It was over, you thought, not daring to shake hands with him after the judge officially defined the divorce. There was a tap on your shoulder, you could tell for sure, from your brother (because it was the closest he would get to show you any affection).

“Where are you going now?” Your brother asked, watching you pull your sunglasses on nonchalantly as soon as you left the building. That made you sigh.

“I've had my chance to burn the things he gave me, I've drunk every bottle of wine in my house... I still need to test the options."

You shared a smile.

“You should try going out, you know, enjoying what youth you have left.”

“Navel piercing or butt tattoo?”

“Sounds like a very well thought out answer.”

“Oh, it was,” You adjusted the strap of the bag on your shoulder. “I did a list. These two are the first ones, closer to skinny dipping on Spring Break with some hot people from Florida.”

“Did you only think about doing the things your ex husband likes after the divorce?”

He looked at you with raised eyebrows when you turned to face him, as if he was sure he had caught you. Well, it was a fair question, but before you could answer him with another defensive comment, you saw Theodore leaving the building with his lawyer, all stiff and serious. He gave you a look, then glared at your brother, probably thinking to himself that he should work on an investigation about someone’s family before starting a relationship, especially a marriage.

"Yeah, I really don't see the appeal," Your brother murmured while watching Theodore get in his car. "And he wasn't even rich when you two got married."

"Don't tell me..." You sighed in defeat.

"At least you got the house."

"The house I don't like, yep."

Your brother was quiet, but you knew he was observing you as you watched your ex drive down the street in that Mercedes (one of his few demands). Maybe, deep down, he knew that you were sad, disappointed even, but trying to rationalize everything in a more thoughtful way. And no, you didn't like the house, even though it was worth a lot, and having it at the end of the process gave you the impression that Theodore did you a favor.

"Are you okay? We could grab lunch," He offered.

To think it was the closer you’ve got from having a better relationship with him was kinda depressing, too. That glimpse of protection, naturally reflected from the way he fought for a fair arrangement, the way he wanted to search for an honest answer about what really happened with you, would be just a distant memory – one he would likely count as a professional win and nothing more.

Still, you gave yourself the small pleasure to feel welcome, even if for a moment, or the illusion of thinking that your brother really decided to do something really nice for more than the family’s reputation during Thanksgiving. It was like a plot hatched to avenge Theodore, who 'betrayed not only you, but the whole family.'

Your phone buzzed in your pocket. Looking at the name on the screen, you groaned, and your brother peeked without discretion to the device screen.

“Now I understand why you like working with these guys,” He sarcastically mentioned, making you elbow him near the stomach in retaliation. “Big Nick really does look like a drunk detective with a small dick from the 80s.”

“I never stopped to think about the dick size of the guys I work with,” You mumbled back.

“And apparently none of your love partners either,” You stared at him with a frown, confused between answering the call and asking why the hell he would even know this type of thing about Theodore. He shrugged. “I just know.”

“Good to know you have a sixth sense for the male anatomy. Put it on your resume,” And then you answered, sighing a small ‘hello’ to show your annoyance at the way he simply smiled.

“That's the kind of thing you could use now that you’re single. Start documenting California's male resources and do a doctoral thesis.”

“I wouldn't try to compete with your cock-sucking experience.”

“Am I interrupting something?”

Nick had a mocking concern on his voice when you listened to him talk on the other end of the line. Fuck, you closed your eyes for a second, just imagining how he would never let that die for quite some time.

“No, I… I was talking to my brother.”

“I can call later. It sounded important.”

“Oh yeah, it was. You would get along so well with my brother,” Nick laughed at you.

“It's only surprising that you have such extravagant words in your repertoire.”

“And I'm sure you don't want to be the target of most of them.”

“Well, now that you’re officially single and all, maybe we could work on dinner just to help up with your research on dicks.”

“Did you really call me just to make a shit-up call like that?” Your brother raised his eyebrows by your side, to which you retributed with a grimace.

“I didn't even need to make the invitation formally, how interesting.”

“Nick,” You groaned in impatience, rubbing your forehead while eyeing the floor. "Spill it out."

“It’s work, okay? Important one.” A pause. “Think you can get to a crime scene in... Fifteen?"

The time on your phone said rush hour wouldn't start for another hour, if you were a little lucky.

“Gimme twenty. If I know you well, you'll take me across town."

“I’ll text the address.”

The call ended up like that, and your brother was looking at you with a puzzled expression when you waited for the text.

“Is it serious?”

“Kinda of,” You huffed, hiding from him the eggplant emoji with a question mark accompanying the address. “Maybe there’s a lot of men in my life, though. Should think about joining a feminist club or something."

"Or become a lesbian."

"And who would make the lives of emerging men miserable?"

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Taglist

@sexuallover

@paintlavillered

#benny magalon x reader #benny borracho magalon #benny borracho magalon x reader #den of thieves #den of thieves fic #maurice compte

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myaimistrue · 4 years ago

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call it what you want

5.5k. dean is forced to define his new relationship with cas, and it doesn’t exactly go well. read the full story here, but the first little bit is below!

It all starts when they’re at the garden center.

Cas’s garden on the bunker’s rooftop has gotten a little out of control lately. It’s mostly Dean’s fault, if he’s being honest. Cas keeps finding new plants he wants to bring home, and then he nudges their growth along with his remaining grace so that the place looks like some kind of insane jungle. And instead of asking him to tone it down, Dean looks at him with stupid starry eyes and asks Cas to tell him all the Latin names of the plants because what can he say? Foreign languages are hot.

Sam tells him it’s becoming a problem. Dean can’t bring himself to care much.

So when Cas looked at him early this morning over a cup of coffee and said, “Let’s go to the garden center today,” Dean smiled all goofy and told him they could head out after breakfast.

And now Dean is standing at the checkout counter, half-heartedly skimming through a magazine while Cas wanders around on the other side of the store, studying each plant with a reverence and affection Dean’s pretty sure only angels are capable of. They’ve been here for almost an hour already, and though Dean usually can hang, he reaches a point around thirty minutes in at which all the plants start to look the same.

“You can head home, Dean,” Cas said, like he always does. “I’ll find my own way home.”

“Hell no,” Dean had responded, like he always does. Cas still has enough mojo to fly himself where he needs to go, but it’s spotty and unreliable these days. “I’ll just hang out at the front. Take your time, dude.”

And Cas had sighed so fondly and pulled Dean in for a kiss, like he always does, and it had been pretty fucking fantastic, like it always is.

Dean smiles to himself as he watches Cas squint at a huge leafy thing that looks almost like a palm tree. They’ve fallen into a nice rhythm these past two months, he thinks. Figuring out how to love each other out loud, with intention and care and kindness, is definitely a work in progress. But from the moment Cas reappeared in the bunker’s kitchen with a nervous smile and a “Hello, Dean,” they’ve been trying their best for each other, and Dean thinks that’s all they can do.

“Hey, Dean!”

Dean glances over, and Emily has appeared behind the counter, grinning with a pen tucked behind her ear. Dean grins back. Turn back the clock fifteen years, and she would be exactly the kind of girl Dean’d put the moves on, dark hair and bright smile and the promising peek of a tattoo out of the collar of her shirt. But she just seems way too young when he looks at her, like she could be one of Claire’s hunter friends or something. And besides, Dean’s got a sexy Chrysler building across the store who is possibly sniffing plants and who makes it pretty much impossible to find anybody else even vaguely attractive.

“Morning, Emily,” Dean says warmly. They’ve spent a lot of time talking as Cas whiles away his life communing with the plants. “How’s things?”

“Same old, same old.” She motions around the empty garden center. “We’re pretty slow today, so I’ve been in the back catching up on homework.”

Emily’s taking night classes at the local community college, a fact Dean compliments her on every chance he gets. “Awesome,” he says. “Education’s important, kid.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “I’m twenty-four.”

“Anybody under the age of thirty is a kid to me,” Dean says, which is embarrassingly true. The girls make fun of him for it all the time.

Emily laughs. Way across the store, Cas starts pushing the cart over to them, filled to the brim with plants and fertilizer and all kinds of other shit that Dean really has no idea about. When he catches Dean’s eye, he smiles, and Dean smiles back.

“Your garden’s gotta be insane by now,” Emily remarks with amusement.

Dean snorts. “You have no idea—it’s totally out of control. But Cas loves it.”

“That’s sweet,” Emily says, smiling at Cas. “And y’know, I don’t think we have a customer who cares about the plants as much as your husband does. He’s so gentle with them.”

Dean’s opening his mouth to agree, and maybe tell her about Cas’s cosmic wrath at the white moths that keep getting into his kale, when he realizes what she just said and his brain goes offline.

read the rest here!

#deancas #destiel #deancas fic #destiel fic #deancas fanfic #destiel fanfic #spn #dean #cas #rambleoncas #offbeattraxx #seffersonjtarship #this one is fun hope you guys like it!! <3 #del's writing

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criminalmindzjunkie · 4 years ago

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Reassurance

masterlist

part one

Summary: Spencer feels insecure, and Reader puts his worries to rest.

A/N: I got several requests to write a follow-up to Avoidance , and after writing almost the whole entire thing, only to scrap it all because it was literal trash, here we are! I initially planned to go a different route with this, but it didn’t flow right and I ended up changing the entire plot line somewhere along the way. I really like how this turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it, too!

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom!Reader

Content warnings: cursing, Spencer being insecure, hand job, oral sex (male receiving), anal fingering, pegging, light degradation, Spencer experiencing sub-drop

Word Count: 6k

Spencer’s lips drag against mine at a slow, deliberate pace as I sit perched on his lap, my hands tugging lightly at where his hair curls at the nape of his neck. One particularly harsh tug has Spencer gasping into my mouth and tightening his grip on my hips, pulling me down until I’m fully sat on his lap. The bulge tenting his slacks comes in full contact with my clothed core and I hum appreciatively against his lips.

“Getting excited there, baby?”

Spencer lets out a whine of protest when I pull away, leaning forward in an attempt to reunite our lips. I press my hand flat against his chest and push him back until he rests against the couch cushions.

“I thought you wanted to watch a movie tonight?” I ask him, my lips curled up into a knowing smile. Spencer’s thumbs begin to rub soothing circles into my hips as he fixes me with a shy smile.

“Maybe later,” he replies, sheepish. He looks breathtaking - bathed in the soft glow of the lamp light, shadows dancing across every perfectly chiseled inch of his face. Faint purple bruises dot the underside of his jaw line, remnants of the last time we had been afforded enough time to get tangled up under the bedsheets. I press my thumb to one of them, applying just enough pressure to cause Spencer’s breath to hitch. In another day or two, the purple and yellow discoloration would be gone, leaving no trace of our time together.

I release my hold on his jaw and make a mental note to see to it that he has another set of pretty marks before the weekend is over.

“Later?” I lift the hand that was splayed across his chest until I’m able to fiddle with the top button on his dress shirt. “You talk as if you have something else you’d like to do first. Care to share?” Spencer squirms underneath my gaze, eyes flitting between my lips and where I’m pressed firmly against his erection. I watch him flounder to come up with a response before deciding to forgo words completely and rut himself against me, eyelids fluttering closed as he lets out a low whine.

I click my tongue at him and raise up until my center hovers over him, torturously close but not quite close enough to touch.

“What’s the matter, Doctor? It’s not like you to be at a loss for words,” I taunt as I pop open the last three buttons of his shirt. Now that the milky white skin of his chest is on full display, I waste no time in dragging my fingernails from his collarbone down to his navel, light and teasing. The action elicits a shiver from Spencer, who looks up at me with glossy eyes and blown pupils.

“P-Please,” he stutters out.

“Please, what?” I prod, cocking my head to the side. “Tell me what you want, baby.”

Spencer’s tongue pokes out to run across his bottom lip.

“I want you,” he breathes out, low and sultry. “Now. Don’t wanna wait.”

I let out a pleased sigh as I lean forward to capture Spencer’s lips in a heated kiss. Spencer’s quick to reciprocate, eagerly licking into my mouth as soon as my lips brush against his.

It’s not long until I feel the hands on my waist begin to tug me back down onto his lap, eliciting a giggle from me.

“Such a needy little thing,” I murmur against his lips.

Usually, a comment like this would be met by some sort of mumbled affirmation. But this time, as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel Spencer’s whole body tense up beneath me.

“Does… Does that bother you?”

I pull away and give Spencer an inquisitive look.

“Does what bother me?”

Spencer averts his eyes, “That I’m so submissive.” He spits the word out like it burns his mouth – like it’s something to be ashamed of – and I can’t suppress my frown.

“Why would that ever bother me?”

Spencer gives a feeble shrug of his shoulders, still refusing to pull his gaze from where it rests on the floor.

“I read an article in Psychology Today that discussed a survey in which 172 German adults completed a personality questionnaire and then measured their own preference for a dominant partner. Not only was the general consensus that both genders prefer dominant partners, the participants also agreed with statements like ‘a very nice partner is often boring’ and ‘I feel attracted to assertive partners.’ So, it’s only natural that you might get tired of me always being such a pushover and search for a more exciting partner than can keep you stimulated-”

I clamp my hand down on Spencer’s mouth, effectively ending his self-deprecating rant and forcing him to look up from where his eyes were burning a hole into the floor. When I know he isn’t going to try and continue down that particularly awful train of thought, I remove my hand.

“First of all, you are not a pushover. Insinuating that you are a pushover would also be insinuating that I’m taking advantage of you. Do you feel like I’m taking advantage of you?” Spencer’s eyes grow wide and he frantically shakes his head.

“Absolutely not. I… I love what you do to me – with me. What we do together. I-I just want to be sure that you like it to. That you’re not just humoring me until someone who can actually give you what you want comes around.”

I feel my mouth fall open from shock somewhere during the middle of his spiel. He can’t actually be so oblivious to the fact that I enjoy the hell out of our sex life, can he?

Apparently, he can and he is, because Spencer takes my silence as affirmation.

“I could try? To d-dom you, that is. I’ve been reading up on it and-”

“Spencer, where on earth did this come from?”

Spencer blinks hard, “I told you – I read it in Psychology Today.”

I shake my head at him and slip off of his lap and onto the couch cushion beside him.

“No, that’s not what I meant. What made you think that I’m not happy with our sex life?”

“N-Nothing in particular,” Spencer stammers. “I just know that I’m not exactly the most masculine guy, and I want to make sure that you’re, you know… happy. With me.”

And there it is.

I reach for Spencer’s hand and link our fingers together.

“This wouldn’t have anything to do with that comment Derek made this morning, would it?” Spencer doesn’t answer, but the way his eyes drop to his lap tells me everything I need to know. I tighten my grip on his hand. “You know he was just messing with you, right? As out of line as it was, he was just being… Derek.”

“He wasn’t wrong, though. I am extremely docile – along with a litany of other very passive traits. I’m not strong or assertive or confident like Derek; I’m basically the complete opposite of the ideal male partner. All I’m good for is spouting out information that’s only sometimes useful. No wonder you don’t want to-” Spencer clamps his mouth shut and his cheeks burn red. “Forget it. C-Can we pretend this conversation never happened?”

“No wonder I don’t want to what?” I prod, brows furrowed in confusion. But still, Spencer refuses to meet my eyes. “And as far as all the other stuff goes, it doesn’t matter if you’re assertive or strong. I prefer my sweet, gentle boy over guys like Derek Morgan, any day. My ideal male partner just so happens to be pretty boys with curly brown hair and massive IQs, not aggressive alpha males with overinflated egos.” I bring Spencer’s hand up to my lips and place a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “I’m being serious, Spence. There’s a lot to love about you.”

Spencer’s next words are hushed, so quiet that I almost don’t hear him when he says, “Then why haven’t you told anyone about us yet?”

In the two months since our first time together, neither of us had been brave enough to broach the subject of what exactly we were doing. With neither of us quite sure how to go about defining the relationship, we’d fallen into a sort of routine. Whenever it came time to pair off for the night and retreat to our hotel rooms, Spencer and I always made sure that we were paired together. Hotch never seemed to care – he was just happy that we weren’t walking on eggshells around each other anymore - and the others were kind enough to keep their suspicions to themselves. On the weekends, or really any time that we weren’t working a case, time off was spent in each other’s company, be it at Spencer’s place or mine. Days full of impromptu adventures to farmer’s markets and niche antique shops devolved into passionate nights spent learning every inch of each other’s skin until no stone was left unturned. It was the perfect arrangement.

Or at least it would’ve been, if Spencer and I hadn’t managed to fall half way in love somewhere along the way. It was glaringly obvious early on that it was way more than just sexual chemistry that kept us both coming back for more, but owning up to that fact was a whole other issue that neither of us was ready to deal with.

Until now, apparently.

“I-I mean, we haven’t talked about what exactly this is, so I wasn’t quite sure how to go about that,” I stammer. “But now that you’ve brought it up…”

Spencer finally looks up and his eyes are filled to the brim with equal parts fear and hope.

“I-I really want there to be an us,” he whispers. “I kind of thought that much was obvious.”

“And I thought the fact that I have absolutely zero complaints in the bedroom was obvious, but here we are,” I tease, and Spencer lets out an involuntary giggle when I poke at his side. “I want there to be an us, too. And for what it’s worth, I like you just the way you are, Spencer Reid - just so we’re clear.”

“Really?” Spencer persists. From anyone else, it would seem like they were fishing for compliments, but from Spencer? I knew my sweet, darling boy just needed some reassurance.

I lean forward and capture his lips in a long, languid kiss.

“Really really,” I mumble when I pull away. “Have I done a thorough enough job drilling that into your head, or do you need some more convincing?”

“More convincing,” Spencer replies as he ducks in for another kiss. “Lots and lots of convincing.”

I smile against his lips, “That’s good to hear, because I sorta had a little something special planned for you.”

“Something special?”

I slide my hand from its place on his knee until my fingers glide across the tip of his clothed cock.

“Remember that thing we talked about last week?”

I can feel the way Spencer’s cock twitches under my hand and I have to bite back a smile.

“Y-Yeah?”

I give his bulge a light squeeze that has Spencer moaning low in his throat.

“Only if you want to. There’s no pressure at all. I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’d be perfectly fine if you just wanna watch that movie and cuddle a bit - you know that right?”

“Yes, but I still want to,” Spencer chokes out. “Very, very much.” And then he’s bringing a hand up to cup my face before slotting our lips together again.

The kiss is sloppy, seeing as we’re both much too excited to worry about being precise. Spencer spends time exploring my body with his free hand, starting at my hips and then dipping underneath my t-shirt. Spencer’s hand is just shy of skimming over my bra when I pull back and he lets out a frustrated whine when I pull his hands off of me.

“I wanna ask you a few things before we do this, okay, baby?” Spencer flushes a deep crimson as he nods. “Have you ever experimented with any sort of anal play before?”

“N-No, I haven’t. Is that okay?”

Spencer Reid, you are going to be the death of me.

“That’s perfectly fine, sweet boy,” I coo. “I’m just trying to get a feel for what’s going to be the most comfortable for you. We’ll start small and work our way up, okay?” Spencer nods, prompting me to tack on an, “Assuming that you want to, that is. This is all on your terms, and I need to make sure that you know that nothing’s going to happen that you don’t expressly consent to first.”

Spencer’s lips pull up into a sweet smile.

“I know, and I trust you,” he says. “And I consent to it. To all of it.”

“You’re gonna have to be a little bit more specific than that,” I chuckle. “What exactly are you consenting to?”

Spencer shifts in his seat, “Y-You know.”

“Yes, but I want to hear you say it, baby.”

Spencer gulps hard, “I-I want you to fuck me. Please.”

I let out a satisfied hum and remove my hand from Spencer’s lap.

“I want you to go to the bedroom and take off all your clothes. Then I want you to lie in the center of the bed and if I walk in and see you touching yourself, I’ll walk right back out and I won’t touch you for a month. Are we clear?”

“Y-Yes, Miss.”

I spend much longer than necessary in the living room, sitting on the couch and scrolling through my phone for nearly ten minutes before getting up and making my way to the bedroom. The anticipation is half of the fun, in my opinion, and I take great pleasure in imagining Spencer squirming against the sheets, desperate for me to walk through that door.

I rid myself of my skirt and blouse as I make my way down the hallway, leaving me in only my panties and bralette. I can hear Spencer’s heavy breathing before I even reach the bedroom, and it makes my stomach flip excitedly as I push open the door.

Spencer lays in the middle of the bed, hands grabbing at the sheets as he rolls his hips in vain. His cock stands painfully hard, leaking precum and bobbing up and down with every motion of his hips. Spencer doesn’t see or hear me when I come in – his eyes are closed tight and his bottom lip is nestled between his teeth, blissfully oblivious as he ruts up into nothing.

“It seems like my poor, needy boy has worked himself up into quite a state.”

The sound of my voice startles him and he immediately halts the movement of his hips. Spencer’s eyes watch on and I walk over to the night stand, taking my time as I remove a bottle of lube, my harness, and the newly purchased dildo bought especially for my sweet boy.

Spencer’s eyes linger on the silicone member, wide and curious as I set the items on the bed and crawl in between his legs. He spreads his legs without being prompted, leaving him completely exposed to me, and the action makes my heart swell with pride. My good boy has learned so much in the past two months.

“M’gonna suck that pretty cock of yours now, and I want you to keep your hips still. Can you do that for me, baby?”

Spencer nods frantically, “Y-Yes, Miss. Please – I need your mouth. I’ll be still, I promise.”

I let out a pleased hum as I take him into my hand, dragging my fist up and down, spreading precum across the entirety of his length.

“I know you will, baby. You’re always so good for me. So eager to please.”

I lean down and begin placing kisses to the sensitive skin of his thighs, all while continuing to work my hand against him. I nip lightly at the skin above his right hip and Spencer sucks in a ragged breath when I suck a pretty purple bruise in the very same spot. It contrasts starkly with his porcelain skin, and I enjoy the way it looks so much that I continue until a plethora of love bites litter his inner thighs. When I finally sit back and admire my work, Spencer’s writhing so pitifully against the mattress that I decide to put him out of his misery.

Spencer devolves into a whimpering mess the moment I take his tip into my mouth, his head thrashing wildly against the mattress when I swirl my tongue around him. I take my time with him, not at all rushing my descent onto his cock, choosing instead to tease him with a slow, steady pace. If Spencer minded my slower than usual pace, he didn’t say so. He was too busy choking out an unrelenting string of the most wanton moans I’d ever heard as he watched himself disappear into my mouth.

I decide now is as good a time as any to up the ante and I pull my mouth away from him.

“W-Why did you stop?” Spencer stutters, chest heaving up and down.

I raise an eyebrow at him, “Are you being ungrateful, Doctor? Because if you are, I could always just leave you here like this - cock hard and leaky with no way to get off other than your own hand. That wouldn’t be nearly as fun as having me fuck that pretty little ass of yours.”

“No, please! I’m so sorry,” Spencer mewls. “I’ll be good, just please don’t leave!”

I loosely grasp Spencer’s cock in my hand and run my thumb across his slit.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, baby. I can’t wait to hear how pretty you are when you’re begging for me to fuck you harder.”

Spencer’s eyes roll back into his head and his mouth hangs open, panting hard.

“I want it so bad. Please, please, please, Miss.”

I use my free hand to reach up and push two fingers into Spencer’s mouth, “Suck. I want them real nice and wet so that I can use them to get you ready for me.”

Spencer moans around my fingers, laving his tongue around the them as he hollows his cheeks. When I retract my fingers from his mouth they’re practically dripping and I reward his effort by tightening my grip on his cock.

“Good job, baby. Are you ready for me to finger that tight little hole of yours?” I ask him as I release his cock and grab the bottle of lube. I drizzle a healthy amount onto my fingers before dragging one across his puckered hole, eliciting a high-pitched cry from Spencer.

“Yes!” Spencer gasps as he attempts to wiggle closer. “So ready for you, Miss. Use your f-fingers on me, please!”

I start by slowly pressing one in, so as not to overwhelm him, and to my endless delight, it glides in almost effortlessly.

“Already so ready for my fingers, Doctor. You sure you haven’t touched yourself here before?” I ask as I begin to work my finger in and out in slow thrusts.

“N-Never. O-Only you,” Spencer stutters out between moans. “C-Can you add another, Miss?”

I pull my finger out, only to add another and resume my efforts at a slightly faster pace. Spencer’s back arches up off the bed when my fingers brush against his prostate and he lets out a half startled, half delighted yelp.

“Oh fuck!” Spencer moans as he grinds down onto my fingers. “Again, please, Miss!”

I comply, and with every press of my fingers against the fleshy bundle of tissue, Spencer’s body jolts from the sensation.

“S’that feel good, baby? Do you like how my fingers feel?”

“Oh, God, yes! F-Feels so good. Never felt like this b-before,” Spencer sobs. “I-I’m getting close, Miss.”

“I didn’t say that you can cum, baby. I wanna save that for when I’ve got my cock buried inside you. How’s that sound?”

“Y-Yes, Iwantitsobad,” Spencer slurs, his words running together as he draws nearer and near to the end. “Want you to fuck me, Miss! Please, I’ll do anything-”

I take pity on him and withdraw my fingers, which makes Spencer keen in protest.

“Calm down, greedy boy. Just gotta get ready so I can give you what you want.”

I crawl off of the bed and step into the harness, fastening it in place and making sure that the dildo is secure before I crawl in between his legs. Spencer watches on with rapt fascination as I pour lube into my palm and work it over the silicone cock until every inch of it glistens.

“What’s your color, baby?” I ask as rub the tip of the cock over his hole.

Spencer’s breath catches in his throat and his whole-body tenses with anticipation.

“So green, Miss. So fucking green,” Spencer whimpers.

I raise a hand up to his hip and begin to rub soothing circles into the skin there.

“Gonna need you to relax for me, sweetheart. Can you do that?” Spencer bites his lip and nods his head. I watch as the tension begins to melt away, and when I see him relax back into the mattress, I bring up my hand to stroke his cock. I keep my touch light, barely applying pressure – I knew if I applied too much, Spencer wouldn’t be able to hold out longer than a few thrusts. He was already teetering on the edge as it was.

Mine and Spencer’s eyes meet and he smiles up at me, dopey and drunk from pleasure, and it’s all the permission I need. I press into him slowly, and I’m left in awe as I watch Spencer Reid completely unravel beneath me.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Spencer curses, head flying back and hitting the pillows. It never ceases to amaze me at how fucking responsive he is, and tonight is no exception. It’s like his body is a live wire, trembling beautifully as I press in further and further and further. I stop just shy of being fully sheathed inside him, trying to allow him a moment to adjust, but Spencer seems to have other plans.

“Keep going, Miss, don’t stop, please! I want all of it, please give it to me! I can take it, please let me show you!”

He looks up at me and those beautiful brown eyes are so wild, so positively feral that I can’t even entertain the idea of denying him any longer.

Spencer looks positively ruined by the time I bottom out inside him. His hair sticks to the sheen of sweat that gathers on his forehead, and his lips look positively abused from the way he’s been biting down on them. His eyelids flutter closed every few seconds, and every time he blinks them back open, I’m able to see that his pupils are so blown that his eyes look almost black.

I pull back until all that’s left inside him is the very tip of the cock, and just as he opens that bratty little mouth to beg for more, I give particularly harsh thrust of my hips until I’m fully sheathed inside him. Spencer lets out a surprised cry as I set an unforgiving pace, all the while still loosely jerking him off as I bury myself inside him again and again and again.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes!” Spencer chants loudly, face contorted beautifully in an expression of pure ecstasy. I spare a brief thought to Spencer’s poor neighbors and make mental note to invest in a ball gag.

“S’that feel good, baby? You look so pretty taking my cock like the good boy you are. My pretty little cock slut. Such a shame nobody’s fucked you like this before,” I hum as I focus my attention on the head of his cock, thumbing lightly at where he leaks for me.

“D-Don’t want anyone else, just wanna be good for y-you. Wanna m-make you proud,” Spencer whines, tripping over his words as he struggles to form a coherent sentence. The sentiment sends a jolt of heat down to my already soaking core, but I do my best to ignore the slickness running down my thighs for the time being. Right now, my only focus is the boy chanting my name, praying for a type of salvation that only I can give him.

I smile down at him and my hand drifts lower to where I’m steadily thrusting in and out of him. Spencer’s body jolts as the pad of my thumb brushes against the sensitive skin of his hole.

“Of course, I’m proud of you. Look at how well you’re taking me, baby. It’s like you were made to take my cock,” I praise him.

My words, mixed with the way I’m working both Spencer’s cock and his tight little ass, seem to be getting the better of him, because Spencer doesn’t even try to formulate a response. He just continues to let out strangled moans that almost sound like sobs as his hands grasp at the sheets until his knuckles turn white.

It doesn’t take long until I feel the muscles in Spencer’s stomach and thighs begin to tense, and when his cock twitches in my hand I can tell Spencer won’t last much longer.

“Are you gonna cum for me, baby?” I ask him as I grind my hips against his, and Spencer’s reply comes in the form of an incoherent, garbled moan.

“What’s the matter, baby? Have I fucked you so stupid that you can’t answer me anymore?” I taunt him. I use the leverage I have from the hand placed on his hip to propel myself deeper. “Is my poor dumb baby incapable of replying?”

Spencer makes a feeble attempt at a reply, “P-Please let me – f-fuck – cum! Oh, God, m’socloseMiss. Harder, please!”

I take a minute to bask in the way he’s completely fallen apart at my hands - relishing in the way his eyes are glossy and dark with lust, in the way that his chest is flushed a deep red, and in the way that precum beads at the tip of his cock, aching for a release. He looks beautiful like this, whining and squirming, hips grinding down in search of more, more, more. I’d never imagined in a million years that I’d be so lucky as to see the illustrious Spencer Reid fucked absolutely senseless, but here he was, waiting for my permission to throw himself off the edge and into the best kind of oblivion.

“Cum for me, pretty boy,” I say in the softest voice imaginable. “Show me how good you are.”

The tension that had been steadily building since the first press of my lips against his snaps in an instant, and copious amounts of cum spurt out from his cock, painting his chest in thick, white ropes. Spencer chants out muddled thank yous as I fuck him through his release, pushing in and out of him in shallow strokes as slowly comes back down from the high.

When his breathing slows down to a normal rate, I pull out of him, quickly freeing myself from the harness and tossing it aside to be dealt with later. I crawl up until I’m at eye level and begin pressing soft, sweet kisses to Spencer’s face.

“You did so well, Spence,” I murmur against his skin. “You’re amazing, baby. Thank you so much for trusting me to be with you like that.”

Spencer lifts a shaky hand to my hair and pulls me down into a heated kiss. I indulge him and pour every ounce of passion I have into my efforts, hoping to express my gratitude with every swipe of my lips against his. And when I pull away, my pretty boy smiles up at me, sated and full of adoration, and it’s beautiful.

“D’you think you can handle taking a shower with me?” I ask as I pull away, and Spencer gives a shy nod in response. He sits up in the bed and swings his legs until his feet hit the floor. I’m just about to stand when his hand comes down on my wrist to stop me.

“What about you? You didn’t . . .”

“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Tonight was all about you.”

I move off of the bed and help him to his feet, holding him steady when his legs begin to shake. “Might be a little sore for a while, but it should go away within a day or so.”

I help him to the bathroom and turn on the shower, and when it’s warm enough I rid myself of my bra and panties and motion for him to join me. I urge Spencer to step under the spray first, but his arms snake around me and pull me with him.

Spencer nuzzles his nose into the crook of my neck and he lets out a deep sigh.

“You okay, bubs?” I ask him as I tangle my arms around his torso and begin to rub soothing circles into his back.

“I just feel a little… down? I-Is this a sub drop? I read a little bit about them, but I don’t k-know…” he trails off, sniffling pitifully against my neck. “I-I just know that I want to hold you. Is that o-okay?”

My heart lurches painfully in my chest as his voice wavers, and I pull back just enough that I can look into his weary eyes.

“Baby, that’s more than okay. Sub drops are a perfectly normal thing to experience, and I’ll be right here to hold you for as long as you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears and he makes no attempt to hold them back, choosing to let them fall freely and mix in with the water pouring from the shower head.

“T-Tell me you want me,” Spencer begs, lip wobbling pitifully. “I-I just feel like I’m not good enough for you, and I know it’s all in my head, and I know how you feel about me, but I just think it would help if you just… s-said it. Please?”

I feel my heart break for the man that stood before me. The implication his words carry - that this wonderful, kind-hearted, extraordinarily gifted man could ever think so little of himself – was enough to bring tears to my own eyes. I swallow down the lump that forms in my throat and, with all the sincerity I can possibly muster, I reply.

“I want you, Spencer Reid. I don’t want anyone else – only you,” I tell him, never once breaking eye contact. “For as long as you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

Spencer chokes out a weak laugh, “And if I want you forever?”

I nudge his nose with my own, and the act feels almost more intimate than everything that preceded it.

“Then forever, it is,” I murmur. I press a chaste kiss to his lips before pulling away and reaching for the shampoo. “Now, turn around, pretty boy. Let me pamper you.”

“Y/N!” Penelope calls out, sauntering over to me in a flash of hot pink taffeta. I’m in the middle of throwing my satchel over my shoulder when she runs up to me, excited smile on her face. “Me, you, JJ, Elle, and a bottle of tequila. You in?”

On a normal day, the answer would have been a resounding hell yes. But today? I let my eyes wander over to where Spencer lingers near the glass doors, trying to look like he isn’t listening in. Very subtle.

“I’m gonna have to pass on this one, Penelope.”

Penelope’s smile transforms into a pout.

“This is the third weekend in a row you’ve ditched us!” she whines, stomping her kitten heeled foot like a petulant child. “Either you’re avoiding us or you’ve got some secret lover we don’t know about. And if that’s the case, then we have a whole other problem, because that’s the kind of thing I expect to be told about immediately.”

The giddy smile that stretches across my face gives me away before I even have the chance to open my mouth, sending Penelope into an absolute frenzy.

“Oh my God, I cannot believe this. We’ll talk about how angry I am about being kept in the dark later because right now, I need details,” Penelope gushes. “Who is he? Where did you two meet? Is he hot?” Penelope barely gets the words out before she’s shaking her head. “Wait, that’s a dumb question. Of course, he’s hot - just look at you. Do I know him? When do I get to meet him?”

I can’t help but laugh at Penelope’s enthusiasm.

“Slow down, Pen,” I chuckle. “I didn’t tell you about it because it’s still relatively new, and it wasn’t until this past weekend that we finally decided to put a label on it.”

“A label? Does that mean this guy is your boyfriend? Oh my God, I thought this day would never come,” Penelope sighs dreamily. But the far-away look in her eye quickly fades and Penelope begins to grill me with renewed fervor. “Y/N, you have to tell me who it is. It’s like, practically a crime that I’m only just now hearing about this, so you owe me this much. And I’ll be needing his first and last name, along with a DOB so that I can run a full back ground check ASAP. Don’t even try to talk me out of it – we deal with enough freakiness during our day jobs, and I insist on making sure the freakiness ends there.”

I can feel a flush spread over my cheeks and I fiddle with the strap of my bag.

“I, uh, don’t think a background check is going to be necessary. You know this guy pretty well already.”

If Penelope had been worked up before, she was practically vibrating with excitement now.

“I know him? Oh my God, this is so huge. Is it Brendon from down in sex crimes? Or maybe James from counter-terrorism?” Penelope muses aloud, before her eyes go almost comically wide. “Holy hell, it’s Anderson, isn’t it?”

“It definitely isn’t Anderson, or any of the others, for that matter,” I laugh. “Do you want a hint?”

“What I really want is for you to just tell me, but if you insist on dragging this out then yes, I would very much like a hint!”

I cut my eyes over to where Spencer stands, and it’s impossible to miss the giddy grin on his face. So much for trying to remain subtle, Doctor Reid.

I fake like I’m looking around for anyone within earshot before motioning for Penelope to lean in. She’s quick to comply, and I do one last exaggerated sweep of the room.

“Alright then, here’s your hint,” I whisper into her ear. “He’s got an IQ of 187, and he’s a pretty kickass magician.”

I lean back and adjust the strap of my bag, sparing one last, parting glance at Penelope, whose jaw is practically on the floor.

“See you on Monday, Pen.”

“W-Wait, are you serious?” Penelope calls out after me. “Reid is your mystery man?! Y/N, get back here right now and explain yourself! Derek, did you hear that?!”

By the time I reach Spencer, Penelope’s voice fades into background noise as I focus all my attention on the way he smiles down at me. I link my hand with his and I’m vaguely aware of an increase in volume coming from Penelope’s direction, but I ignore in favor of smiling back at him.

“You ready to get out of here, boyfriend?”

Spencer squeezes my hand in his and he nods.

“Ready when you are, girlfriend.”

taglist: @90spumkin @moon-light-jukebox @jessalyn-jpeg @pinkdiamond1016 @itsametaphorbriansblog @eldahae @itsmytimetoodream @kasaikawa @shadyladyperfection

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer x reader #sub!spencer #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds smut #criminal minds fanfic #smut #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler smut #matthew gray gubler #criminal minds self insert #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x y/n #mgg #spencer reid imagine

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bardofsomerset · 1 year ago

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I thought you’d like the way it uses its fantasy elements. It was seeing you talk about the circumstances where you do like fantasy that made me think this might be a good book for you, but I couldn’t quite figure out how to pitch it (it’s been a few years since I read it and I don’t have a copy, so my memory is less than perfect). I wouldn’t have described it as fantasy if I did though. Maybe fantastical, but not quite fantasy. I don’t know if you’ve ever read Angela Carter, but it very much reminds me of how she creates these sort of magical, sort of mythological, sort of real settings and you can’t ever really tell where the edges lie.

What I wasn’t sure about was if you’d like both narrators, or if you’d get so engaged with Mary that you’d resent going back to Morgan, especially early on when Morgan by circumstance is so disconnected from most of what’s happening on the island. I’m glad you enjoyed both of them. Especially when you point out her bravery, because you’re right it’s easy to dismiss that when it’s so common in fiction, even when it isn’t in the real world.

Thinking about Barney, maybe it’s meant to be remarkable how much Mary loves him? Considering the circumstances of his conception (her parents obviously still struggled with that), the lengths that were gone to to try and separate her from her relationship with him and the less than stellar quality of the other parenting we see, love, especially the kind where she still wanted to be so close to him, was by no means a given. I do agree he didn’t need to be her son for it to work, and obviously if it doesn’t connect it doesn’t connect.

I like how you go through that whole paragraph about Mary refusing to name what happened whilst also not explicitly naming what happened. Much as I appreciate the moment in the book, and Mary’s attitude to life more generally, I don’t have that personal connection to the rural grit aspects. I always like reading reviews where people pull out the things I might not have given a great deal of attention.

I’ll agree that working on yourself so you match the person you want to see is valuable work, in part because it’s not a skill I’ve done very well at developing myself.

The stuff about memory not being real fits pretty well with the blurry treatment of reality more generally, and the lack of clearly defined beginning and end. It leaves lots of spaces and questions that are really interesting to mull over but you don’t really need to answer. Things like the exact nature of the snake ropes come under that heading as well. I know I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the Thrashing House, even years after I last read it.

This review has given me some things to muse about, reminded me just how gorgeous some of the writing in this book is and has made me want to reread, so thank you.

Snake Ropes by Jess Richards

Thank you to @bardofsomerset for commissioning this!

Non-spoiler: This book exists in a strange kind of half-fantasy world that really works for me personally. I don’t know that I love the way it all comes down on the subjects of love and memory, but I think it has some absolute banger passages, and some really interesting things to say about the nature of human beings, and who we are at core.

spoilers below

I went into this book completely cold. Not only did I not know what the book was about, the copy I ordered turned out to be an advance copy, so there was nothing on it but the title, and the first three lines of the book. I could have told you not a single thing about this book when I went into it. And honestly, I think that was for the best! If someone had tried to sell me on the book calling it a fantasy I would have come into the novel with a completely different set of assumptions, and I would have been on guard, so to speak, for totally different things. I loved not realizing that we were in a world where there is an aspect of magic, and some myths are real, and the line is VERY blurry between story and fact.

I was very taken with this world where selkies are real, and a tree grew itself into a home of punishment, and you can hear things in the metal, and also, it might be related to our world--the island sells things to men from the mainland who talk about mobile pouches, and there’s some discussion of fast fashion--but none of these things are elaborated on too deeply, or ever threaten to dominate the story. I believe Richards knows all the answers to these things! But she is aware that just because she knows them, doesn’t mean the reader needs to. That level of restraint is not as common as we might hope in the modern day. Actually, I suppose not historically either.

I really preferred Mary to Morgan, and I think knowing me as a person that’s not all that shocking. They are both constructions, they have made themselves into what they are, from different ends of the spectrum: Too much experience and not enough. I don’t dislike Morgan at all, and I think she’s a fantastic example of how a person can be sheltered but brave. She doesn’t know anything about the world except through books and general vibes, hasn’t been outside properly in a long time, but no matter how dark and how dangerous, she knows that even suffering out there will be better than the misery of in here.

Actually, coming hot off the heels of me saying i didn’t like Morgan as well, let’s talk about how I fucking love Morgan. What she does is promiment in stories because it is realistically so rare. We, as human beings, are extremely prone to ‘the devil we know’ and I think most of us would simply stay where we were miserable yet safe. But something being common doesn’t make it laudable, just because most people are cowards makes it no less cowardly. But not Morgan! Morgan takes the leap and seizes her moment, and I love that. I love that she prefers danger to suffocation. She even says so, when she’s talking about how she wishes she had a wicked stepmother, that she wants anger and rage and fury instead of this prison. “I know from all the storybooks that wicked stepmothers are to be avoided if you wish to remain good or pure or ignorant. I really want one.”

All that being said, I still preferred Mary on balance. I loved how competent she was, you absolutely never get the sense of her being adrift or in peril, even when Langward is fucking actively cutting into her flesh, because she is so rural-style nails tough, and she cuts off the Shadow that carries that crime. Obsessed with her. I actually think I might be at odds with the story on this, i’d have to reread it to be sure, but I am not entirely certain that they cast this as such a good thing, as I do. I mean, I don’t think it’s calling her to the carpet over it, either, but I think the story takes a stance of “This sure is a thing that Mary’s deciding to do, huh? And there are definitely consequences to that, too” at the very least. But I loved it, and I thought she was great.

It was frustrating for me, not that Mary gave birth to Barney, in the end, but that it feels like the author wants it to be so IMPORTANT, and so CRUCIAL to understanding why Mary loved him so. “He were only ever mine,” and “It was always my arms hims wanted.” This is a personal thing, of course, as all things that annoy us are deeply personal, but as a lesbian who pretty much openly rejects the idea that family trees and blood are of value to anyone save maybe a doctor, it not only doesn’t connect but I found that particular aspect annoying. I loved that she was so close to her brother, that she loved him despite being a child she easily could have seen as competition or replacement, I found her protectiveness of him very touching. I should have known better--this isn’t QUITE as bad as Dishonored, where if I had played through the INSANE difficult (for me) of the game just to get to, “Corvo loved Emily because she was his secret daughter :)” I would have burned down the game studio--but it was more of an ‘ah, man.” every time she would go over how Barney was really, truly hers and I just could not connect.

What I did feel a huge connection with, a kinship with, was the way Mary rejects the kind of victimhood they want to put on her, and the way she realizes that to make everything about what happened to her is to make that the story of her.

“Other people want to name it so them can choose a punishment for some damage them can’t see. But without a name for it, I’m myself. I refuse it. I’ll not let this word attach itself to me. If it does, people will only see damage when them look at me; them will meet this word, for it is a terrible word to meet.

Unspeak it for me.”

Holy shit, I am not sure I have ever, in all my reading, seen this sort of approach to tragedy or trauma, or whatever name we want to give it, and it took me aback so much that I had to stop reading for a moment. I’ve never read anything that so well reflected my own personal feelings about what I’m going to put as, “Bad shit happening to you.” I do not want it to define so much of my story, and the only way to make that true is to remove its power from you, either in glancing over it only in passing or straight up never mentioning it at all. I get this from my grandmother and great-grandmother, and to some extent my mother, though my great-grandmother was a fairly serious example of this and the observation in my family is that I am made in her image most among all of us. But yes, I never see it reflected in art or media, this idea that there are downsides to naming the sins that have been committed against you, that you can come to be wrapped in those ropes yourself, and they can take you over, and it can be the entirety of you. And not just her, but also if she lets it be the story of her, it can also be the story of Barney. No one will ever look at Barney and see anything but this horrific act. He will be the living monument to Langward’s violence. That’s it. That’s all.

So much did I love this detail, that frankly it washes the whole Barney being her son nonsense out for me, and we go back to a neutral starting position.

Actually, speaking of ideas I’m obsessed with, the way that the book recalls over and voer that memory is a malleable thing, that we can choose to reinforce and color and even unstitch ourselves. I know I posted this when I stumbled across it, because I loved it, but it bears repeating:

“Memories don’t have to be real, them’re just pictures, like broideries. Just got to make the memory strong enough, the picture real. Stitch it so fine the colors gleam. Think of it over and over, pass my thoughts through the eye of the needle, make the threads hold firm, like a herringbone ladder stitch, get the split stitches with the needle right through the middle of the thread, till it looks just the way I want it to.

Or if it dun come easy, cut it all away and stitch something different.”

That our lives are embroideries, and it is up to us in many ways to determine the pattern. “We are the thing that we decide to be” is something that I hold very close to my heart, and feels very correct to me. And it takes work and time, to make the life you want, to make your truth line up with the personyou see yourself as, but I think that’s valuable work. I don’t know, i’d be so curious to hear other people’s thoughts on this because I am so different from many people I encounter that I don’t know if it’s common to see all this as a good skill ahaha. Mary spoke to me a LOT in these deeply rural, very true grit sort of ways that I don’t see reflected ESPECIALLY in female characters, and if anything individually won me over to this book, I think it would be the way that I saw aspects of my own life in Mary that i often don’t get to see held up.

I can’t quite get to what I think about the snake rope themselves. Not in a “do I like them or do I not” way, in a “what are they REALLY about?” sort of way. There’s something in the idea of weaving something as a protection, and that protection is as dangerous to you as it is to anything outside, and that the thing made to protect you can kill you if you are careless. But I can’t quite put my finger on exactly how all those pieces go together.

In general, I would say I liked the book! Particularly loved this approach to fantasy that colors the world more than dominates it. There is magic, but it never feels like the story is a vehicle for the magic, more that the magic serves the story. It isn’t so obsessed with its own world building that it forgets what matters about the story. I would think a fair amount of you would like this book, if you could come to grisp with the fact that a lot of it is almost…how do I want to put this? A half-story? It’s about one event and the things around that event, and the end does not feel pat. That sounds like a criticism but it’s isn’t, that’s one of the things I really liked about the book.

Actually, and, sure, why not make this essay even more disorganized, please know I am also not impressed with me here: I think what the book is trying to be is reflected in a passage about Mary’s mother’s diaries: “This book isn’t a story. It doesn’t have a beginning or an ending. It’s not teaching me anything or making me feel I could become someone else.” And I loved that, not only as a history person who often wishes people would remember that even historical figures are people, and not narrative devices, but also i think it is at least a little about the unfinished edge of this novel. That more came before we begin, and plenty more will come after, and in life there is not neat the end. Definitely not for this essay either ahahha.

One last thing I can’t do anything with but HAVE to share:

“All losses open doors into older grief” I have nothing to add except I will think about that line for a long, long time

#Reblog #Docholligay #Bardic Readings

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buckyownsmylife · 4 years ago

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Give your heart a break - Chris Evans smut

The one where Chris is a biker and decided he wants to start your forever.

Warnings: I’m gonna tag this as dubcon just to be safe, Chris definitely crosses a line without proper consent, breeding kink, biker!Chris AU, bondage, (belt used to restrain hands), dirty talk

A/N: this is for my own birthday celebration challenge! Like I explained here, I’m going to try to fill every single AU I listed with the characters I picked for the challenge, and since the deadline if May 27, these fics will be posted randomly, as I finish them. Hope you guys like it!

Chris’ P.O.V.

“Hey, baby!” The smile she opened up when she turned around to see it was truly me who had just arrived at her coffee shop made my heart beat faster than it ever did while I was away from her.

I guess the adrenaline the bike used to give me was nothing compared to her effect on me.

“What are you doing here?” She exclaimed, jumping on my waiting arms so I could twirl her around, like I always did after we spent some time apart. She looked just the same, which comforted my heart somewhat.

I hated leaving her, but this nomadic lifestyle I’d chosen for myself long before we ever met would never work for her. It’s why she always resisted accepting any kind of labels to what we shared.

That was all about to change, though. Even if she still didn’t realize it.

“What? Can’t I stop by to visit my best girl?” Her smile became even bigger at the pet name. It was the indication I needed of her true feelings. She wanted to be mine, she really just couldn’t handle the biker lifestyle.

“Of course, you can. I just wasn’t expecting you, that’s all. Sit down, I’ll bring your usual order!” I watched as she fixed me a black coffee and picked a muffin with great care before bringing it to me. I had no doubt it was the warmest one on the tray. “Will you be sticking around for tonight?”

I could see the glint of hope and desire in her eyes. I knew that even though she didn’t want to be tied down to me, she hadn’t looked for pleasure in anyone else ever since I first kissed her. And even though I was sure she thought differently, neither had I.

She owned my heart ever since we met. There was no one else I’d rather have underneath my body. “I think you’ll soon realize I’ll be sticking around for a lot longer.”

Her eyes lit up at that, excitement clear in her features. “A whole week?” She’d been asking me for that for as long as I’ve known her, and I’d never been able to stick through the whole seven days. There was always some shipment to assess, brothers to help.

This time, nothing would force me away from her.

“You’ll see.” She rolled her eyes at my attempt at keeping a mystery, and I know what was going on through her pretty little head. I was already too secretive as it was, there was no need for more hiding. But I had a plan, and I was going to stick to it.

“I’ll be right here until it’s time to lock up. I’ll walk you home, how does that sound?” The way the corner of her eyes crinkled as she smiled at me was enough of a response, yet she gave me one anyway.

“Perfect.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

“Stop that.” The order startled me, too lost in the haze of lust to realize that he’d stripped down to his boxers, finally noticing that I’d climbed on the bed and had been playing with myself while I waited for him to join me.

Usually, I’d immediately follow his directions - almost instinctively, actually. It was probably some remaining fear that used to exist inside of me when I saw him on his bike just outside my shop, before I decided to give him a chance and began this little adventure between us…

I never wanted to see his anger directed at me. But tonight, I was feeling brave for whatever reason. Maybe it was because of how much I had missed him this time we spent apart and how I unconsciously resented him for always leaving. We’d never have an actual relationship, and it was all because of him.

So maybe that awoke the brat in me, because all I gave him was a smirk, keeping the movements on my clit as I watched him watch me. “I don’t think you deserve that,” I taunted, taking notice of the way he seemed transfixed by the wetness gathered on my lower lips, until I stopped my movements and raised my hand to slather it on my lips.

“You’ve left me all alone so many nights, with only these fingers as company…” I returned them to the apex of my thighs, pushing them inside of me this time, making sure to exaggerate my moan at the relieving sensation of being filled. “I think you deserve to suffer for a while longer.”

He looked so beautiful with his eyebrows furrowed, the length of his eyelashes and the pinkness of his lips almost making me overlook how threatening he still looked, all tatted up, clearly disappointed in me.

“Stop it,” he warned once more, but I wasn’t in a submissive mood. Not tonight.

“Why should I?” I argued, fucking myself faster. “I’m not yours. You can’t boss me around.” That was the wrong thing to say, I realized the second his eyes darkened, jaw clenching at my defiance. He was on me in a second, easily gathering my wrists in one of his hands as he pulled them up in the direction of the headboard, and it was only when I felt the leather around them that I realized he’d picked up his belt to tie me to bed.

“Yes, you are,” he breathed out against my face, eyes looking directly in mine to show me just how serious he was. “And you should know better than to disobey me.” The authoritative tone in his voice had me shivering, especially after he pulled away and stopped covering my body with his, taking advantage of how I was bound to the bed to drink in my naked figure.

“I promise I’ll behave,” I tried to argue, legs flailing around his figure until he grabbed them. “I-I just missed you, that’s all.” The way his huge, rough hand felt on the inside of my thighs should be illegal. And he knew just how much it affected me, as he smirked and looked up at me from under his eyelashes with a knowing glint in his gaze.

“Don’t you trust me?” He questioned, head tilted as his thumb slipped and found place right over my nub. “I just want to make you feel good, sugar.” I hesitated for a moment - I hadn’t really experimented with any sort of kinky sex before, even though I expected him to try something unusual ever since the first time we were together. Guess this was starting small. I could take it.

Besides, I needed him too fucking badly.

“Yeah?” He confirmed after I nodded, tone almost patronizing as he kept rubbing me and playing with himself. “Got yourself wet and ready for me, won’t need to prepare you, huh? Guess your disobedience has it’s advantages.”

All I could do was whimper, especially when he finally leaned over me again, resting his hard cock over my navel. “Feel this?” He asked, and I nodded once more. “It’s about to be inside of you, pretty girl.”

And so he grasped my hips and adjusted himself to start pushing in, spearing me open. Having him for the first time after a while was always a challenge, and although he always took it slow to get me used to him again, he was never one to give me time to accept the intrusion. He just took his time, thrusting in and out, taking note of every little moan that I released as his hips pressed against mine.

“Oh, fuck…” I groaned, wanting to wrap my arms around him but unable to do so, due to my restraints. “T-that f-feels s-so good!” I was positively trembling as he started to pick up his pace, cocky smile only adding to my arousal.

“Oh, yeah?” He panted, drops of sweat starting to form on his naked body from the frantic activity. “Then fucking scream it, sweetheart. Tell your entire neighborhood how good it feels to have my cock inside of you.”

I must have obeyed him, from the way my throat felt hoarse when I finally came back from my orgasm, but I couldn’t remember it. I was too far gone. All I knew, all I could focus on was the way it felt to have his cock rhythmically dragging in and out of me, the sounds of my juices reverberating off the walls.

“Pretty little pussy,” he complimented, eyes focused on the part of me he was so obsessed with. “Can’t wait to fill it up with my cum.” Well, that jolted me back into reality, suddenly pulling on his belt again.

“W-what?” Only when he heard my question and the hesitation in my voice did he raise his gaze to meet my eyes, a patient smile defining his expression.

“C’mon, pretty girl… You know you want it too. Don’t you want an ‘us’?” He urged while I could only stare back, mouth agape. “You know I want more, I’ve always wanted more. Now I’m ready to give it to you. And I know you want me too.”

His voice was soothing against my ear as he kept fucking me, “You want to be round with my baby, don’t you? You want me to keep you filled all day long, until your breasts are heavy and your belly starts growing, so everyone will know you’re now undeniably mine.”

And to be his is all I’d ever wanted, but I never expected it to happen like this. I could only watch, frozen in place as he came deep inside of me, moaning right by my ear before kissing my temple.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He’d never said those words to me before. I don’t think he’d ever said them to anyone. “I know it’s fucked up that I’m only now telling you this, but I do. And I wanna fall asleep next to you every day from now on.”

And so he kept me plugged, full of his cum even as he released my wrists and lulled me to sleep, and for the next seven days, when I woke up in the morning, he was really still there.

“You’re really here to stay,” I whispered on the eight night, cradling his face in amazement as he smiled before kissing my palm.

“Forever.”

#my 2k challenge #my fics #chris evans smut #smut #chris evans #biker au #rpf #rpf fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans reader insert #chris evans reader inserts #chris evans reader #chris evans fanfiction

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accio-moony · 4 years ago

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Escape || Remus Lupin x Reader SMUT

Request: no. A/N: I’ve been working on this for months. I am disgusted with myself for taking so long. Not fully edited, so probably lots of mistake. Forgive me. Word Count: ~9k Characters/Pairing: Remus Lupin x Reader, James, Lily, and Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew Summary: [NO VOLDEMORT AU, post Hogwarts Marauder’s era]It’s near a full moon, but you and your boyfriend Remus are going to Harry’s fifth (5th) birthday celebration. Remus gets really turned on when he sees you with Harry and tries to control it, but he can’t. WARNINGS: face fucking, breeding kink, rough sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (male and female receiving), vaginal sex, spanking, marking (scratching, hicks, biting), grinding hair pulling, choking, teasing, dom/sub relationship, overstimulation, dirt talk [all in no particular order god I’m disgusting] *not my gifs*

A loud crash sounds from outside your bathroom, making you jump in surprise and almost slip on the slick shower floor. Out of instinct, your arms come up to cover your chest, though the curtain covers you and whoever it was hasn’t made it to the bedroom yet. Quickly, you turn the water off, and you’re left cold as the remaining hot water runs off of your body. You grab the fluffy towel you had set out and wrap it around your frame before picking your wand up from the counter and slowly opening the bathroom door. You sneakily move to the bedroom doorway and peak down the hall. A tall shadowed figure stands in the great room, a duffle bag in one of his hands, a wand in the other.

“Y/n” the familiar voice calls to you when the man sees you. “Hold on. Lumos.” A small orb of light sits at the end of the man’s wand, and you can quickly identify the face of your boyfriend of several years, Remus, from under the blue-glow of the wand’s light.

“Oh, Remus,” you sigh, and your shoulders relax. “You scared me.” You walk down the hall to him and smack his arm playfully.

“Hmm, I missed you, too,” he grumbles and leans down, kissing you.

The kiss is soft and quick, but still holds all the love you’ve both built up over the years. When he pulls his lips away from yours, you whine, not yet having opened your eyes as you revel in the messed feelings of his lips on yours. He had just spent two weeks with one of his best mates, Sirius, but he was now home.

“Rem,” you say as you open your eyes, but he’s no longer standing in front of you. “Remus?” You call and turn back down the hall.

You find him in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed next to his duffle bag which he had put down. His head leans into his hands as his elbows rest on his knees. You move from the hall to stand between his legs, but he doesn’t look up at you. You carefully grab his cheeks in your hands and pull his face up so he’s looking at you, but he keeps his eyes closed with furrowed brows.

His actions confuse you. He’s usually very affectionate with you, loving any touch you give him. Slightly confused by his lack of reaction, you think of any obvious reason he could be acting this way, and your mind found the answer rather quickly: the full moon is in just two days. You turn your head back to him, not saying a word as you remove one hand from his cheek and trace your index finger down the bridge of his nose. He softens under your touch this time and quickly reaches up to wrap his arms around you, pulling you closer so he can rest his head on your belly.

You giggle as you run your fingers through his hair. “I thought we had planned to meet at James’s, honey?” You question him.

At the mention of the small celebration that takes place in just over an hour, Remus drops his arms from your waist and leaned back on his elbows with his head lolled back, and of course, you take immediate notice to his change in demeanor.

“We don’t have to go, Rem,” you quickly counter. “We can stay home, just the two of us, in bed if you’d like.”

“No,” he shakes his head. “You want to go. I would want to go if I weren’t so… well, you know. And they’re expecting us.” He looks into your eyes as he stands from the bed, his tall frame making you stumble back a few steps as he becomes unexpectedly close, towering over you several inches. He places his hands on your shoulders, steadying you as he plants a kiss to your cheek, but his lips linger and wander back towards your ear, his breath hot against your skin making your blood boil. “I’ll be fine,” he says lowly, “but you better go finish getting ready before I change my mind.” His hand slides down and then under your arm, wrapping his arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your chest is pressed against his own. “You’re so beautiful, sweetheart.” His lips trail back over your cheek and jaw until they reach your lips. He captures yours with his own in a hungry kiss, the hand not around your waist wrapping into your still wet hair and pulling it backwards so he has better access to your mouth. The tension of the pull makes you let out a whiny moan into the kiss as your skin heats up.

You pull away and look into his eyes. They’re dark with lust and hunger. “Go,” he demands, and you scurry into the bathroom, Remus clapping his hand on your butt as you walk away, closing the door behind you and finishing getting ready.

Once the door is closed behind you, Remus pushes his hand down on his semi, trying to give it some sort of relief. You don’t know yet, but he had gone to spend some time with Sirius, because they were discussing how Remus would ask you to marry him, and he had picked out the ring. You’re the only person in his life to ever make him feel normal and worthy of love. You had convinced him, after many years, that he is not a monster. He’s just Remus, with a furry-little-problem once a month. It had taken him years to believe you, and sometimes it’s still hard for him to, but you had shown him that his lycanthropy does not define who he is, and that he is, in your words, the best guy you’ve ever met and ever will meet. It wasn’t until the both of you left Hogwarts that he knew you were right. He knew you would always be by his side, no matter what condition, no matter what happens. You stood with him for the seven years of Hogwarts like you had known him all your life. You didn’t bat an eye when he told you about him, and you worked with his fellow marauders to become an animagus for him, so you could be with him for his transformations, not just to take care of him on the ends of it. He knows, and as his friends have pointed out on many occasions, you would never leave him. You love him too much. Remus would have to do something truly terrible for you to leave his side. After having convinced himself for so long that he could never have a real family, or even friends, you finally made him grow comfortable enough to the idea to believe he can, though he hadn’t told you yet. To your knowledge, he was still an insecure boy who thought he could never love. He knew you wouldn’t stop until you knew you had convinced him, and then you’d continue reinforcing the idea from then on. He’s able to imagine you with a grown baby, carrying his child, but he never mentioned it to anyone until this past holiday when he told Sirius. He had always pushed the thought aside, not wanting to get his hopes up, not wanting to pass his lycanthropy to an innocent infant. If you loved him for what he is, and you take care of him, then he knows you would do the same for your child, but the thought of passing the trait still terrifies him, but to a lesser extent.

He turns to his bag on the bed and pulls the small velvet box out of the hidden pocket inside, going to hide it in one of his drawers, one you never go in — his underwear drawer. He opens the box, admiring the ring for a moment. The ring is small, simple but elegant, and he knows you’ll love it, he knows it reflects your personality and relationship perfectly. It’s simple: besides all the crazy stuff in between, the main picture is just love — the only thing that matters in the relationship. He still has to decide how to ask you. He knows he wants it to be romantic, but he also wants it to be as soon as possible. The romantic part isn’t difficult, it’s the having to wait until they’re not so close to the full moon. He could ask you tonight, before the gathering, but he doesn’t want you to think of it as a rash decision he made because of the full moon. If it was, he would’ve asked you months ago, maybe on a night where you were scolding him for trying to drink away the post-transformation pain. Quite the contrary, really. Usually, during a full moon, he’d get more self-conscious, feel more like you deserve better, but the full moons have begun to prove to him that he will marry you. You’re always there no matter what, and you always will be. He knows that, and he wants to keep it that way.

He hears the bathroom door open, and he quickly shoves the box haphazardly into the drawer.

“What’re you doing?” You ask him suspiciously.

“Uh,” he grabs a random pair of long black socks. “Looking for these,” he excuses, turning to you as he holds up the socks for you to see. It’s then he notices you’re in your favorite matching black lace bra and thong, and he curses his blood for running hot and straight to his groin.

“Uh-huh,” you nod, still skeptical as you walk closer to him.

As you reach the closet and start to look for an outfit, he quickly closes the drawer to try to hide the box from you.

He rummages through his clothes, picking out a plain white dress shirt with a dark red cable-knit sweater that contrasts just enough to wear with the pair of jeans he already had on and his favorite sneakers, sporting his signature comfortable-but-intelligent, soft attire and just enough of his old house colors. He puts the clothes on the bed with a subtle tie and pulls his jumper over his head, leaving him bare. In the mirror, you can see his back muscles flex and tense as he pulls the dress shirt up over his shoulders and start to button it. You walk over to him, laying the skirt and top you chose next to his outfit and helping him button up his shirt.

“Let me help,” you smirk as you grab his shirt, looking up into his amber eyes innocently. You let your fingers trace over his muscles and is scars as you admire it all, never shying away from his flaws. When the shirt is buttoned, you grab the tie from the bed and toss it around his neck, grabbing the other end as it comes around and tugging his neck so he gets to a height where you can stand on your toes and kiss him passionately, biting and pulling on his lower lip as you pull away, releasing it softly as you lick your lips, looking into his pupil-blown eyes.

As casually as possible, you step back from him and grab your clothes. First your mini skirt, pulling it over your bum and purposely squeezing into it give Remus a show. You grab your semi-casual blouse and pull it on, then tucking the bottom hem into the skirt.

By this point Remus had his tie done and was pulling the sweater over his head, smoothing it down his chest. You grab your small wedges and wand before walking towards the door.

“Let’s go, Remmy,” you call to him as you walk into and down the hall, your hips naturally swaying with each step.

Behind you, when he sees your hips move like that, Remus growls under his breath, but quickly subdues it with a cough as he follows you, grabbing his own wand on the way out, failing to pretend he could get the image of your plump ass out of his head. You grab the gift-wrapped box for the party, and the two of you went into the front garden, just by the old, rickety front gate. Remus holds his arm out to you, and you take it, preparing yourself for the sickening feeling of apparation. Your feet are lifted off the ground as you swirl into a spaceless darkness, squeezing through time and space in a way that would be nauseating to anyone who didn’t do it several times a day.

It had been several hours since you and Remus had arrived at James and Lily’s house. You were in the kitchen with Lily, talking about what life is like, and how it changes once you marry and have children. You want that with Remus, and you had since before the two of you left Hogwarts. In Remus’ eyes, to your knowledge, he could never put that burden on someone for the rest of their lives. He didn’t want to risk passing his lycanthropy on to his children, who did nothing wrong, did nothing to deserve the condition, no matter how often you remind Remus that he didn’t do anything wrong, that he didn’t do anything to deserve the painful monthly transition. You wish you could make him see himself through your eyes, make him see how perfect he is. You wish you could make him see himself through his friends eyes, make him see how James, Sirius, and Peter adore him. You’ve confided in Lily about this before, and every time, she tells you how James tells her the same thing, wishing his friend could see how much he’s truly worth. The conversation dies down when you don’t respond, but just think about your boyfriend and how amazing he is. It upsets you to see his self-esteem so low.

Your mind shifts back to when you were getting ready, and how Remus touched you, how he kissed you. You feel your skin heat up and your insides churn just thinking about it. You know it’s only a few nights to the full moon, and those nights, Remus gets sexually needy and rough. It’s something you love from him. He’s usually a softer lover, and you admire him for that, but sometimes you need something more stimulating. That need is rare for you and strangely correlates perfectly with his own

You squeeze your thighs together, trying to find some friction, but you are unsatisfied. You leave the kitchens and find Remus in the living room with his friends. He’s sat back in the couch, almost zoned out. You go to walk towards him with a simple innocent smile on your face, but you’re stopped when you feel a small hand grab your own.

“Aunt Y/n!” You hear Harry call from behind you. You turn to him, giving him a big smile.

“Hi, Harry!” You exclaim. “Happy birthday!” “Thank you,” he says politely and hugs around your legs.

You chuckle and get an idea, a potentially dangerous idea. With your back towards Remus, you bend at your waist to lift Harry in your arms, but, as you hoped, your skirt rides up your hips, exposing just enough of your thong to Remus that you can feel his eyes burning into your back. You conceal your smirk with a big smile as you talk to Harry, “Where’s your mommy, huh?” Your knuckles nip around his nose playfully as you hold him in your arms, balanced on your hip as you walk into the kitchen with him still in your arms. Sweetly, he lays his head against your shoulder, and almost immediately falls asleep. Lily coos at her son when he she’s you with him.

“I don’t see how Remus isn’t dying to see you like this with his child,” she comments, kissing her sons head.

“I may bring it up to him again soon,” you comment. “I want him to know I truly want a life with him. But I’ll wait until a week or so after this full moon. I don’t want to aggravate him.”

Meanwhile, back in the living room, Remus looks over at Sirius once you’ve gone out of sight and ear-shot. “Fucking, damn-it,” he swears, unintentionally getting all of his friends attention. He blushes, trying to act like he didn’t just say that in a most aggravated tone.

“What is it?” James asks his friend, his eyebrow raised.

“I, uh —“ he starts, but is cut off.

“Can I tell them?” Sirius tries to, but fails to whisper to Remus. “Please?”

“Tell us what?”

“We’ll there’s no point hiding it now,” Remus sighs, giving Sirius at death glare. “You’ve gone and told them somethings up.”

“Great!” Sirius turns back to James and Peter. “He’s taking the jump.”

After a moment of confused silence, and Remus rolling his eyes, Peter speaks up. “The what?”

“The jump: he’s going to ask her!” Sirius explains, giddily happy.

“Finally!” James exclaims.

Remus blushes deeply, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “There’s no point not to. She’s everything to me… and she’s proved time and time again that I’m everything to her. She’s the only person to ever have made me feel normal, worthy of love.”

James and Sirius start high-fiving excitedly.

“I mean, I already knew at this point that starting a family would be a part of this, but Merlin, seeing her with Harry like that just makes my heart want to explode.” Remus pulls a pillow off the couch and into his lap. “It’s turning me on, you know?..” He says under his breath. “Plus, I think she’s teasing me.”

“I’ve got this!” James says and stands up.

Sirius and Remus both grab his wrists, making him sit back down.

“Don’t you dare—“ Remus starts, but it’s too late. James sets his plan into motion.

��Harry!” James calls from the living room, giving Remus a wink.

Harry’s head shoots up off your shoulder at the sound of his father calling his name.

“We’ll see,” you smile to Lily, ending your conversation and turning out of the kitchen with Harry still in your arms. By the time you’ve reached the doorway between the kitchen and the living room, he’s wiggling so much that it’s difficult for you to keep hold of him. Again, you bend at the waist and place his little feet on the ground. Your blouse falling slightly and exposing your cleavage as you had secretly hoped. You stand up again, and watch Harry run over to his father and jump into his lap. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Remus push a pillow down onto his lap and cross his legs. You smirk to yourself and look at him, his eyes boring you a hungry look, and you decide that you have to use the bathroom, meaning you’d walk right by him. You walk across the living room, tucking a stand of hair behind your ear as you head to the bathroom in the next hall, passing the end of the couch that Remus is seated on. When you get close enough to him, he reaches over the arm of the couch and grabs your waist, the side opposite him. He spins you and pulls you so you’re sitting in his lap, and he slyly removes the pillow, making you land right on his cock. You squeal slightly on your way down, and when you feel his hot breath against your ear for the second time tonight, you can’t help but squirm in his lap, “accidentally” creating friction between the two of you.

Remus’ hands grab your hips and hold them still, holding you down against him.

“You feel that, babygirl?” He asks in a hushed voice so only you can hear him as he pushes his hips up from the couch, his hard member pressing into you. “You got me all hot and bothered in front of all of our friends. You’re going to have to fix it for me.” He nuzzles his nose into your hair, breathing hot on your neck, and you let out a whiney moan at his words. “I would take you in the bathroom now, but with what I’ll have to do to you, there won’t be enough space in the there.” His lips graze your neck, and he unexpectedly flattens his tongue against your skin, leaving it feeling like it’s boiling. He hums at the taste of your sweat. “And I want to be the only one to hear you screaming my name. You are mine, after all.” He leaves an open mouthed kiss on your shoulder, his tongue grazing the spot at he kisses it. “So, go get your purse. We’re leaving.” His teeth nip at your ear and he pinches your butt under your skirt as he pushes you off of him.

For a moment, you don’t move, too stunned to do anything, but to your dismay, and Remus’ impatience, his hand flattens against your lower back as he leans forward in his seat, pushing you in the direction of the kitchen. On your way stumbling into the kitchen to find your purse and say goodbye to your friends, you look over your shoulder back at the man you love. He leans closer still to his friends, saying something inaudible to you that makes them all smirk and chuckle. Blushing, you scurry over to your purse.

“Got her,” Remus smirks from the living room to his friends.

“I honestly didn’t know you had that in you, Moony,” James laughs.

“She does things to me.”

“Where do you think you’re going?” You hear Lily from behind you.

You turn to her, your purse in hand, and you pull her into a goodbye hug. “Remus wants us to go home,” you almost whisper.

She grabs your shoulders and pulls away from you, holding you in front of her. “Is it what I think it is?”

You smirk and look over her shoulder into the living room.

She pulls you into one more hug. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she tells you when she pulls away again. “Or anything James would do!”

Once Remus lays his eyes on you again after you’ve stepped back into the living room, he quickly stands, waiting for you as you walk over to him, and he takes your hand, pulling you away without any word to anyone.

“Bye, boys!” You call over your shoulder as your frustrated boyfriend pulls you out the front door. Your feet barely hit the garden when you’re lurching through space again, Remus disapperating from Godric’s Hollow with you on his arm. You feet hit the ground in the front garden of the home you and Remus share, and you’re instantly stumbling as he’s pulling you up the front step and into the house. He slams the door behind himself once you’ve both entered the house, locking it with a swish of his hand, as his other grabs your lower back and pulls you against him as he growls down at you with a matching look of hunger in his darkened irises.

You feel that he’s harder than he was just a moment ago when you were sat in his lap, and you could swear that you had long since soaked through your panties.

His hand not holding your back grabs your face as he pulls your lips to his in a harsh, passionate kiss. The hand that was on your back sliding down to just under your butt as he lifts you up. Instinctively, your legs wrap around his waist to help him support you, and your skirt bunches up to your waist, your thong pressing against his leather belt.

He walks forward, pushing your back against the door as his lips move from your lips to your neck, sucking and biting, effectively marking you as his own with the dark bruises he leaves behind.

You whine his name breathlessly at the feeling of his teeth, tongue, and lips all grazing and working at your neck. In hearing your name, Remus growls against your soft skin, biting down on it as he replaces your feet on the ground then pulls away, much to your displeasure. He walks backwards towards the couch, dragging you along with him by your hands. He sits down on the comfortable couch, his hands leaving yours and sliding down your sides and back towards your butt. As his hand rests on the top of your ass, he grabs the zipper of your skirt, pulling it down excruciatingly slow, but once he zipper is over the curve of your plump butt, he quickly employs the new margin of space available and shoves the skirt down your legs, letting it fall to the ground silently. Hastily, Remus’s hands grab at the back of your things, pulling them down and over to the sides of his own, making you straddle his lap. As he reconnects his lips to your own, one hand grabbing at the back of your blouse, the other cradling your face, you moan. You revel in the feeling of his plush lips for the first time this evening, being less caught up in passion where you can’t think, yet your senses are still crowded with longing. They work effortlessly against your mouth, his tongue pushing past your lips and exploring the area same as he would if he had never kissed you before, brushing over your lips, against your teeth, the inside of your cheeks, and the roof of your mouth before finally pressing his tongue down on yours, which had been begging his silently. As you two mix your mouths, you moan at the taste of him, the remainder of the one drink he had intoxicating you as if you were the one who had drank it.

You grind your hips down onto his jean-clad crotch, the denim rubbing perfectly through your soaked thong and against your aching core, a whine escaping your throat and into his mouth. Your hands slide under his sweater, then under his dress shirt, feeling his hard muscles under his warm, tan skin, littered with soft hills from scratches and wounds of the many previous full moons he’s had to endure.

Remus leans back, detaching his lips from yours for a moment only long enough to remove the red sweater before fervently reattaching himself. His hands hold you still against him, one keeping your hips down on his own, the other holding loosely tangled in your hair. He could leave his hand in your hair for an eternity, sexual or not. He loves playing with it, twirling it between his fingers when you lay your head in his lap on the couch while he reads; he knows you love head and back massages at night and how they put you to sleep in a mere minute. Your hair is soft and silky, easy to run his hands through without getting caught on any knots or tangles. He also know how much you love it when he grabs your hair by it’s roots, tugging enough for tension but not pain, or when he puts it into a make-shift pony tail when you’re going down on him.

Your soft lips leave the warmth of his mouth, pulling them away and down over his jaw, leaving open-mouthed kisses. Your tongue brushes over his scruffy face with every kiss, tasting the salty sweat that has begun to seep from his pores the more you touch him. Trailing your lips down his neck, sucking soft marks into it, biting on his collar bone or shoulder as you pass it, your hands nimbly work at the buttons on his shirt, shaking from the excitement running through you, the continuous passion you hold for your boyfriend. Your mouth follows the buttons as the come undone down his chest, adjusting your position in his lap and on the couch to keep moving a few inches with each new free button as you kiss, lick, and suck at his supple skin.

When your tongue licks at the top of his faint happy trail, feeling his grip on you tighten, you kiss back up his chest, pushing the shirt to the sides to reveal his tones abs and pecks. Remus isn’t super muscular, he isn’t burly by any means, but he’s toned and has just enough muscles to look strong and soft at the same time. You run your fingers through the short chest hair that lightly strews across his chest as you kiss each of his scars, following them until they stop or disappear behind him. His scars are a story, they show how strong of a man he is, the man you love more than anything. His story has become your story, one you’ve loved since the beginning.

You reach back up to his neck with your lips, kiss and continue to mark up the length of it as you return your mouth to his. You lean in just enough to feel your lips brush together softly, but you pull back when Remus tries to connect them. You smirk as you place a single, hot kiss to his lips before getting off his lap completely, sitting on your heals, your body supported by your knees on the floor in front of him. You start you lips back at the top of his happy trail again, and he pushes his hips forward, leaning back farther into the couch for both of you to be more comfortable in the coming activity. Your mouth trails down to his waistline as your hands run up and down his thighs slowly. When you reach the line of his jeans against his waist, your hands slide up, slowly, towards his belt, squeezing his painfully hard erection through his clothes as you pass. Once the buckle is free, you pull back completely, sitting back and looking up at him with your innocent doe eyes as you pull the leather from the denim loops. Your hands find the button on his jeans, quickly popping it open and then carefully attaching to the zipper as you pull it down.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his trousers and pull down, he lifts his butt from the couch cushion enough for you to slide the fabric over his butt. You only pull to to just past his upper thighs, leaning his legs covered but giving you comfortable access to his treasure. Your soft hands rub back up his legs and over the material of his boxer briefs, finding his length and giving it a firm squeeze at the base, skidding your hand back and forth just and inch or so as you kiss at the damp spot over the tip of his cock. You slowly wipe your tongue on the spot, giving him an unsatisfying amount of friction.

His hand in your hair yanks your head back with a delectable amount of force, lifting your mouth off of him and forcing you to look up at his as you moan from the tension. He leans forward in his seat, bending low enough for his lips to be by your ear, his hot breath fading over it as he speaks. “You don’t want to tease me anymore tonight, love,” he informs you. “I had already been planning on you not being able to walk for the rest of the week.” He pauses and licks a stripe up your neck before continuing. “But now you’ve got a whole other punishment coming your way.” His hand leaves your hair for just a moment as he cups your cheek softly, leaning back a bit and pulling himself from his underwear. Once his aching cock is free, his hand on your cheek slides back into your hair, forcing you down so your mouth is next to his radiating member before sitting back into the couch completely.

Obeying, your small hands wrap around his cock, and you lick a long, wet stripe up the thick, pulsing vain on the underside. The feeling of it throbbing against your tongue, and the taste of his pre-cum when you reach his tip is almost enough to make you cum there, without being touched. You moan against him, still teasing him, still driving him mad.

His hair in your hair pulls you up only slightly as his other hand grabs and slacks your jaw, forcing you to take his delicious cock into his mouth. “Stop,” he says sternly as he thrusts up into your mouth. “Teasing,” he thrusts again, making you gag as he hits the back of your throat, unprepared. His hand in your hair loosens and his other leaves your jaw, letting you recompose yourself before further coaxing you. “Come on, Princess,” he hums softly, pushing stray hairs out of your face. “Let me see you take my cock in that pretty little mouth of yours. I know you want to, I know your desperate for it. Take my cock in your mouth, and you’ll get it nice and rough later.”

You whine at his words, quickly wrapping one hand around the base of his cock, spitting over it before lowing your mouth onto him, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks as you rejoice in the feeling of his cock filling your mouth. You hum against him, pleased to be providing him with pleasure.

Remus starts grunting in time with your head and thrust up shallowly to the same rhythm. His hand drops from your hair when he thinks your ready, and they both grab the sides of your face as he fully fucks up into your mouth. Your hands flatten against his thighs, bracing yourself as you take him down your throat.

He’s grunting and groaning and praising your mouth until you feel him twitch in the back of your throat, before he roughly pulls your mouth off of him. He stands up quickly, shoving his pants the rest of the way down and taking his socks and shoes off with them, leaving them there as he pulls you up, kissing you once passionately, both of you moaning into the kiss.

His hand wraps around your wrist and he pulls you farther into your home and to your bedroom. He pushes you down on the edge of the bed before climbing on, straddling your legs with his knees on either side of your thighs as his hands wrap under your arms and pull you up higher on the bed so that your head rests in the pillows.

Remus’s calloused hands slide under the fabric of your top, pushing it up before grabbing the hem and forcing it over your head. He throws the shirt to the floor somewhere on the room, somewhere neither of you cared about right now. His mouth works down your neck, leaving more marks as he crosses over and down your chest, licking at the top of your breasts above your bra before biting harshly in the same spot. You moan out, loving the feeling of his teeth against you. His nibble hands slide under your arched back, making quick work of your bra as he snaps the band and releases the clasp. That is discarded in an equally irrelevant place as your shirt. As soon as your breasts are free, he leans in, sucking one of your nipples into your mouth harshly, letting his teeth graze over it and bit down ever-so slightly as his other hand cups your opposite mound, rolling and pulling that nipple through his fingers making you moan out his name.

His lips and hand switch sides for an equal moment before they continue down the valley of your chest and your soft stomach, leaving more marks still as he makes his way to your panty-line at an agonizingly slow pace. His fingers grip into the flesh on your sides as he sucks and licks his mark onto your tummy. You’re left trying to string word together to make a sentence, but it’s all incoherent as it just comes out as breathless pants.

You’re able to build your voice back when he just follows your panty-line across your tummy, avoiding the steaming apex of your legs that’s screaming for his attention. “Rem-“ you barely manage, and his lips slow against you as he looks up at you from almost between your legs. “Plea—“ but you can’t finish as you gasp out a breath when you feel his lips switch to your thighs.

“What was that?” he smirks into your leg?

“Ple—“ you try again, only for him to bite into the soft skin of your thigh.

“I need to hear the full word, babygirl,” he says, pulling away from one thigh and moving to the other.

“Please!” You force out, not letting him cut you off with his actions again.

At that, his mouth leave your thighs as he sits up, leaning over you enough to kiss you passionately, and you wrap your hands into his hair. “Good girl,” he smirks against your lips before pulling back again, positioning his face between your thighs while he sits on his knees, leaning forward. Without a warning, he presses his tongue over the wet fabric covering your mound. Me moans against you, feeling how you’ve soaked through your thong, and he can taste you. “Merlin, baby,” he hums into you, sucking you through your panties before pulling back. “You’re so wet, Y/n,” he teases as his fingers gently wrap under the waist line and begin to pull down your thong. “Who did that to you, hm?” He encourages you, throwing your thong off the bed before laying on his stomach between your legs, roughly gripping your thighs in his hands and pushing them up against your chest, giving him a beautiful view of your soaking cunt. He blows hot air over your sensitive core as he waits for you to answer.

“You, Remus! You made me that wet,” you plead for him. He happily obliges and dives in, licking his tongue up and down through your folds without warning. “Oh, fuck,” you curse out in a whine.

His tongue stills and flicks over your swollen clit several times as he rubs the tips of his fingers against your entrance, getting them ready for you. He stops licking as he begins to push his fingers into you slowly, his lips wrapping around your clit instead and sucking the bud into his mouth. His fingers only pushed in slowly until they reached a halt. He gives you zero adjustment time and starts pounding them in and out of your pussy, creating an obscene sound as the curl and twist within you.

You moan out at the sudden sensation, music to his ears as one hand finds this hair, wrapping into it and pulling. He moans into you at the tension you create and hearing your angelic voice do such sinful things. With your legs still pressed to your chest, you can barely reach the one hand into his hair, so the other reaches under your head, grabbing and pulling at the pillow.

He continues fucking his fingers into you at the fast pace, continuing to suck and lick your clit the same. You quickly become a moaning mess, and you’re almost embarrassed by the pornographic sounds you’re making. Your head turn to the side, and you bite into your arm to suppress the sounds. This doesn’t go unnoticed, and Remus pulls away from your center, his face slick with your arousal. His hand leaves the warmth of your walls, smacking down over your cunt and causing you to involuntarily jerk forward.

“Don’t be quiet,” he demands. “Let me hear you, darling. Let me hear the sounds only I can get from you, yeah?” He cocks an eyebrow at you and your mouth releases your arm, but as though he doesn’t trust you to cover it again, he pulls your hand from the pillow, and interlaces his fingers with yours as he dives back in, eating you like he hasn’t eaten in months.

He returns to your cunt at the same pace, but only picks up the speed from there, his fingers digging not you deeper, rougher as he pushes you towards the rapidly approaching edge. He knows your dangerously close, and he pulls the high from you as he moans into you, sending vibrations through you that tip you over the edge. You moan loudly, legs convulsing at the intense peak rushing through your muscles. He pulls your legs down over his shoulders so you’re more comfortable as he continues to work your cunt, you thinking he’s riding out your high. Only he doesn’t stop. He removes his fingers from your hole, but continues sucking on your clit. The sensitivity from the orgasm that just ripped through you puts you right back on the edge. Your hips start to buck and both your hands lace into his hair, gripping tight. The intensity of only being on the verge of your next orgasm has you crying in pleasure, your hands pushing against him as you try to move his face off of you.

Your hands quickly give up as he holds himself onto you, and when he starts shaking his head back and forth with his tongue pressed against you, your pushed over that second edge, your back contracting as your muscles force you to sit up, using his hair as an anchor. He moans into you as you pull his hair, and he slows down, carefully lapping up your juices before kissing back up your body to your lips.

He gives you a chaste kiss before he flips you over, pushing your face down into the bed. His hands hook over your hips, grabbing around them and pulling them up so your ass is in the air on perfect display for him. His hands leave your hips once they’re where he wants them, wrapping them around your wrists and pulling them back behind your back before wrapping one of his large hands over them both to keep them there. His other hand reaches between your legs, spreading them apart so he can comfortably stand on his knees behind you. After your legs were in position, he used the hand not restraining your wrists to grip his cock, rubbing it up against your core, getting it slick and ready for you, but still not entering you.

You moan at the feeling of his throbbing length pressing against you, so close, but not close enough. Your moan, having been a subconscious technique to get him to continue, is not a suitable attempt for him. His hand leaves his cock, still pressed against you as he holds his hips against your own, then smacks down on your ass, wordlessly commanding you to beg for him.

“Remus,” you whine, pushing yourself back against him, and his hand comes down on the opposite cheek. Not good enough. “Please!” Another smack. Still not good enough. “Remus, please!” You try combining the two previous pleas, but he spanks you again, and you know he wants to hear you say it. You know he won’t give you what you both crave until he hears you say it. “Please, Remus! Please, fuck me,” you cry out as his hand comes back down on you, only this time for fun, to make sure both of your cheeks are equally reddened. As you’re whining his name again, his hand leaves your ass and grips himself at the base, pushing into you to the hilt in a quick thrust, no warning.

“Good girl,” he groans from above you as you moan out at the feeling of him so perfectly stretching you. He stills only long enough to get out the two words and move your hair over your shoulder, letting him see the side of your face and the top of your back and shoulders. You don’t have much time to adjust before he pulls out, almost completely, and starts thrusting forward into you again at an agonizingly slow pace. His palm runs over your red cheeks, soothing and kneeling the skin under his hand while still holding your arms behind your back.

The perfect friction, the prefect way he fills you up and reaches every crevice within your walls has you softly moaning for him, but you need more. You start to push your hips back into him, meeting his thrusts in his rhythm but trying to get him to speed up all the same. “Rem,” you moan. “Faster. Please.”

His one hand releases your wrists, the other holding your hips against his as he wraps the first around your throat, pulling you up against him until your back is pressed to his chest. “You want me to pound you, huh, baby?” He breaths hot on your ear, his hips thrusting roughly up into you and hitting your g-spot dead center, causing you to cry out his name. “You’re so needy for my cock?” His teeth graze the shell of your ear as he thrusts again, another cry escaping your lips.

“Yes!” You call out to him. “Please, Remus. I need you.”

You say what he wants, but his reaction if the opposite for you. He pulls away from and out of you completely, pushing you back down onto the bed forcefully, and you bounce a little once you hit the bed. He turns you over again, having you face up as he kneels between your legs again, grabbing them from behind your knee and putting them over his shoulders as he realigns himself effortlessly and continues to pound into you.

The pornographic sounds you make further strive the hungry beast inside him, and he reaches down for you, draping his hand back over your throat and squeezing once more. He continues to hit the bullseye in you repeatedly, almost as if he’s trained his whole life just to please you to such an extent. His thrusts are so precise that you barely registered the build up to your rapidly approaching third orgasm.

“Rem,” you draw out his name, warning him, and he understands.

“Do it, baby,” he commands, and you let go of the force pressing violently against your gut.

You scream his name, your voice hoarse and throat sore as you whine and gasp while you come down, Remus working you through it the whole time.

“Good girl,” he praises you, dropping your legs from his shoulders as his hand leaves your neck and slides up. He cradles your cheek as he leans over you, kissing you passionately as his thrusts slow down. “You’re so beautiful, darling. Just absolutely perfect.”

Remus’ previous aggressive lust, turns into a loving lust, just wanting to be one with you, be a whole instead of two halves. There’s just as much passion as before, it’s just more apparent now without his hunger for you clouding it.

“Remmy,” you whine, too sensitive after three orgasms. You’re still soaking, but you can feel every ridge of his cock as he slides in and out of you. Remus lifts his head from where it was folded into the crook of your neck, looking deep in your eyes. “I can’t. It’s too much.” A tear falls from your eye and runs down your cheek, but he’s quick to catch it, kissing the wet spot it left and then your lips so softly you barely feel it.

“Help me finish, baby. I’m close,” he encourages you to hold on just a few moments more. “You can do it, Princess. You’re being such a good girl for me.”

You nod your head as you look up into his darkened, but soft, eyes. The way his mouth hangs open and his eyebrows furrow together, you can tell he is close. You moan his name as you pull his lips into another love-filled kiss, wrapping your legs tighter around his hips and your arms over his shoulders, pulling him deeper into you. You break from the kiss panting. “Cum in me,” you plea so softly you can barely hear it.

Remus’ hearing is strong enough to pick it up, and his rhythm falters for half a moment. “Really?” He asks, how close he is painfully evident on his face. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. Please.”

His carnal need resurfaces, hitting into you harder, and you cry out every time. “You want me to cum in you, huh?” He growls into your ear, but he’s so close it breaks into a groan. “You want me to fill you with my cum, baby?”

You nod vigorously, not being able to form any words with the intense feeling burning in your core. He captures you lips in a kiss as he stills, buried deep inside your cunt and coating your inner walls with his hot ropes, his hips involuntarily jerking as he does. You’re sensitiveness, his words, and the feeling of him and his cum filling you to the brim push you over the fourth edge, and you crying out as your body convulses under him so much you would’ve folded in on yourself if his body weight wasn’t keeping you flat on the mattress.

He collapses on top of you as both your bodies give their last few tremors, both of you panting and sweaty, hair sticking to your faces. His arm extends towards the side table, looking for his wand. “Fuck,” he mutters, and you hum in question to his exclamation. “Our wands are still in the living room,” he kisses you softly, but with so much love. “You know, with our clothes.”

You giggle against his lips before he pushes himself off of you and goes into the ensuite to grab you a washcloth. Your affectionate urge to always be around him awakens and sends you to the bathroom, but when you stand from the bed, pain shoots down your sore legs and your knees give out. You’re left to gravity to fall to the floor with a small squeal and a soft thud.

The door to the bathroom quickly opens as he looks for the cause of the sudden noise, finding you on the floor in front of him. “What do you think you’re doing?” He chuckles.

“Following you,” you blush and look down at the carpet. You’ve always tried to subside your natural clinginess in fear that it will annoy Remus.

You heel hands wrapping under your arms and you’re hoisted off the floor. “You’re my lost puppy, aren’t you?” He teases, making you giggle. A sound he could listen to on repeat for the rest of his life, a sound he’s never planning on losing. He puts you down so your weak legs hand off the edge of the bed. “Would you wait here just a moment please, love?” He says, adoration filling his voice. He steps back into the bathroom and comes back with two washcloths, a warm on and a cold on. He uses the cold one first, wiping the sweat and left over make up off your face. A moment later you take the rag from him so you can wipe his sweaty forehead, too, but you gasp and whine in surprise as the warm cloth rubs between your legs. “I’m sorry, baby,” he apologizes and kisses you sweetly. You run your hands over his head, flattening his hair down as you kiss him back, never wanting to stop, and he finished cleaning the mess he had made of the two of you. “I’m going to take these and the other clothes to the laundry real quick, love,” he tells you before kissing your head and leaving the room.

You build all of your strength to get up and go to the closet in search of clean underwear for you both, stopping dead in your tracks when a poorly hidden velvet box in his drawer peaks at you from between the socks. You pick is up carefully and open the box, a ring perfect for you sat in the fold. You cup your hand over your mouth to hide any noise you might make, but your heart is in your throat as it bursts with love, and you couldn’t make a sound if you tried.

“Shit,” Remus curses behind you, having come back into the room silently. He rushes over to you and moves to take the box from your hands, but his hands stop, resting over yours as he looks at you staring at the ring, mesmerized. “You weren’t supposed to see that, yet,” he says and laughs softly, nervous of your reaction because your face is so blank, he can’t get a clue.

“Then… I’ll just pretend I didn’t,” you give him a small smile, but one that shows him your whole heart. You pull your hands back from his, leaving him to hold the box as you slip on your fresh panties and climb back into the bed. He looks to you, surprised you’re not questioning it, but your sat in the center of the bed with your arms held out to him and a goofy pout placed on your lips as your hands grab at the air.

He sighs happily, places the velvet box unhidden in his closet, and pulls on fresh boxers before climbing into your arms. Your fingers slide into his hair and scratch at his scalp as he lays his head on your belly.

After a moment of comfortable silence and his mind not settling, he lifts his head and looks up at you, seeing your eyes are closed. He calls your name softly. You hum, informing him you’re awake. Remus climbs further up the bed, laying on his side facing you to your left. His hand grazes your cheek as he pushes hair out of your face.

“I love you. I have never felt this much of one feeling before I met you. I’m so in love with you that it terrifies me, and I don’t know what to do. But you’ve changed me, you’ve made me a better man. I can’t imagine a future without you as my wife and with our kids running around. I never knew how to bring it up before,” he pauses a moment, trying to find the right words as he asks you the big question on a sudden limb. “I’ve just been to scared. I don’t know why, because you’ve never done anything but love and support me, and I couldn’t ask for better. I was with Sirius to find you the ring, and try to plan a romantic moment to ask you to marry me, I just didn’t want it to be so close to the full moon.”

You take a moment, considering everything he’s said and your chest swells with love and pride. “What about ‘James’?” You ask, being stuck on the one thing he said. When he pulls away from you completely and sits up, you open your eyes, startled. He’s looking at you with all the confusion in the world. “Oh my god!” You gasp. “That came out so wrong. I meant as a name! Merlin, the things you do to me — beyond amazing — exhaust me. I can’t speak correctly.” You let out a breathy laugh as you look for his reaction, a smile growing onto his face.

“You mean, like, a baby name?” He asks you.

You nod at him, smiling, and his shoulders relax as he lays next to you again.

“No, no,” he says after a moment. “I don’t want the product of my love for you to constantly remind me of my idiot best friend.”

“Okay, so ‘Sirius’ is also off the table,” you giggle.

“What about our parents names?” Remus asks as he turn to you, pulling you into him as his little spoon.

“So the product reminds us of our parents?”

He laughs at your rebuttal, and you smile. “Good point.” He presses his lips to your temple. “I guess we have time to figure it out.” He sighs in contempt as he buries his face in the back of your neck.

“For now,” you agree.

“So that’s a yes?” He picks his head up quickly to ask. “You’ll marry me?”

You turn in his arms, facing him and grabbing both his cheeks in your hands, purposely squishing his face a little. “Of course, you big oaf,” you laugh and kiss the love of your life.

#the wizarding world #wizarding world #Harry Potter #JK Rowling #the marauders #the marauders era #Marauders #marauders era #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #Remus Lupin x reader #Remus Lupin smut #moony #andrew garfield #Andrew Garfield remus lupin

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laurenairay · 4 years ago

Text

Found You - J. Oleksiak

Summary: You thought you’d finally found the perfect guy – were you right?

Word count: 12k

Warnings: super cute fluff, some angst

A/N: So the wonderful @whatishockey inspired me to write a full story of this Big Rig blurb I wrote in my Valentine’s Day list. Without her encouragement and sweet words this wouldn’t be in existence - so thank you! This one is for you 💖 The scenes in the blurb are referenced but not repeated in this fic, so do feel free to read the blurb too!

Also tagging: @danglesnipecelly @texanstarslove @itsbadgerbadgermushroom @chicagoblackhawkslover96 @princessphilly @denis-scorianov @broadstbroskis @thebookofmags @shelbsatans @antoineroussel

It was only meant to be one night. One night in a bar. One night of fun and dancing. One night of passion. A one night stand.

You’d been out on a girl’s night, cocktails in a local bar, when you’d spotted him across the room. Not just because of how tall and broad he was, head and shoulders above everyone else, but…because of his smile.

That big confident beautiful smile made your breath hitch in your throat, and the moment that he locked eyes on you and turned the full force of that smile in your direction, you knew you were done for. That smile stayed on his face as he walked over to you, slow smooth and confident, because he knew exactly what effect he was having.

What had surprised you was that it wasn’t just quick conversation and back to his. It wasn’t just a drink each and then leaving. He danced with you, had several drinks with you, talked with you for hours. It didn’t feel like a usual hook-up from a bar – it felt different. He made you feel special.

You didn’t know until the next morning that he didn’t usually ask a one night stand to stay over. You didn’t know until the next morning that he’d never made a hook-up breakfast before. You didn’t know until the next morning that he thought meeting you was special too.

That’s when everything changed. Instead of the one night you had meant it to be, Jamie had asked for your number, asked you out on a date the very next night. One date turned into two, into three, until it was a month in. A month of incredible sex and amazing dates and a wonderful guy. You knew it was happening so fast, but you were already falling for him. How could you not? You spent every spare moment thinking about him, about seeing him again, even if it was nothing official yet.

Never had anyone treated you like this before. So special, so important. Never had anyone put such a smile on your face, got your stomach filling with butterflies, made you feel so giddy. This guy was different – Jamie was someone worth pursuing something real with.

You could only hope he felt the same way.

Jamie couldn’t wipe the smile off his face as he ended his Valentine’s Day phone call. Going on a roadtrip two days before Valentine’s Day had really thrown off his original plans. Jamie had initially thought of taking you out on a romantic candlelit dinner, showering you with gifts and taking his time bringing you pleasure over and over again back home, but thanks to hockey he wasn’t able to, as much as it frustrated him. Pavs had seen his frustration easily, had suggested surprising you with something to remind you that he was still thinking of you, even when he wasn’t there – and Jamie had taken him up on that with the giant bouquet delivered to your office as well as the follow-up phone call tonight.

He definitely hadn’t planned on defining his relationship with you over the phone, but the fact that you agreed to be his officially? Even if you wanted to hear it in person too? Mindblowing. Like there was any way he was going to change his mind about this – he hadn’t lied at all when he talked to you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, to the point where a lot of the guys on the team were teasing him, but he didn’t care.

This feeling, this hopeful wonderful feeling that you gave him whenever you smiled his way – it was everything. That someone like you would even give him the time of day when he could never guarantee being there by your side (ie. Valentine’s Day absence) made him feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Call it sappy, call it head over heels, call it whatever, he didn’t care. Being with you made all of it worth it.

He couldn’t wait to ask you in person, to take you out to dinner and call you his girlfriend. Just the thought of it put a stupid smile on his face.

And the stupid smile was still there when he left his room a little later to meet the team for dinner.

“What’s got you grinning like an idiot?”

Well that was fast. Jamie snapped out of his thoughts, rolling his eyes at Tyler’s words, Dickie, Bish and Pavs all behind him.

“Nothing,” Jamie shrugged, although he knew that the smile on his face hadn’t dimmed at all, and wasn’t exactly helping his case.

“Uh huh,” Bish snorted, making Jamie blush slightly.

“Anything to do with…hmm, the woman you’ve been seeing for a month now?” Pavs teased.

Damn it.

“Yeah, alright, you win. I was just on the phone with her,” Jamie admitted.

“You snuck in phone sex before dinner?” Dickie asked, surprised.

Jamie just punched him in the arm, rolling his eyes as the others laughed.

“No, I finally asked her to be my girl,” Jamie retorted.

Oh, wait, there was the smile again. Oh well.

“Officially?” Pavs asked, a big smile on his face too.

“Yeah, man, officially,” Jamie nodded, grinning.

Even saying those words felt amazing. Finally. Finally.

“About time,” Dickie snickered.

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Jamie mused.

“You know his moon eyes are only going to get worse now though,” Tyler teased, “it’s bad enough with that stupid smile on his face,”

“Oh man, yeah, he was already enough of a big soft sap before,” Bish nodded, smirking slightly.

“I am right here you know,” Jamie said, rolling his eyes, although his smile still hadn’t lessened.

How could his smile change? This was the happiest he’d been in a long time.

“Well I think it’s great that you asked her,” Pavs mused, nudging Tyler with his shoulder.

Tyler nudged him back, sticking his tongue out.

“Thanks,” Jamie said warmly, “I know it’s only been a month but she’s special,”

“Booooo,”

Jamie laughed at the chorus around him, shaking his head. Okay so maybe he was a bit of a sap. But you were worth it, he knew that much. And he didn’t care what anyone else thought about it.

“What are we booing?”

Jamie looked over at the voice, smiling at the sight of his Captain.

“Big Rig caught feelings,” Dickie teased.

“Ugh, feelings,” Benn groaned, although Jamie could see the laughter in his eyes, “can’t have that,”

Jamie just rolled his eyes, laughing. “Can we talk about something other than my love life?”

“I vote yes!” Tyler said loudly, winking at Jamie, “where are you paying for dinner, Cap?”

Well at least that fuelled a discussion loud enough to get the attention off him. Now all Jamie needed to do was think of somewhere to take you out for dinner when he got home…

It was another week before Jamie arrived back from his roadtrip. The two of you still spoke on the phone every night, still messaged throughout the day, but knowing that he’d asked you to be his girlfriend? And that he’d agreed to ask you again in person, even just to sooth your own anxiety? Well that changed everything.

You were now Jamie Oleksiak’s girlfriend. Hah. Even just saying it to yourself put the silliest smile on your face. And you couldn’t wait to see him again.

Jamie had arranged for the two of you to meet at the restaurant, having made reservations, and then you’d agreed to go over to his after to stay the night. Apparently this was what he had intended to do for Valentine’s Day, to take you out like this – better late than never, right?

So all dressed up in your favourite little black dress and classy stilettos, you met Jamie outside a fancy-looking Italian restaurant. He was already waiting when your uber pulled up, and the smile he greeted you with made your heartbeat race. Wow, he really does look handsome all dressed up in a clean-cut suit.

“Hey, you look incredible,” he said in greeting.

He leant down to pressing his lips to yours before you could answer, kissing you slowly and sweetly in a way that made you clutch at the lapels of his suit jacket. Wow. Then he pulled away with a slightly dazed smile, and you knew you must look exactly the same.

“You look pretty damn good yourself,” was all you could say.

Jamie just grinned. “Shall we?” he asked, tilting his head towards the restaurant.

You just tucked your hand into the crook of his arm and nodded.

The two of you walked inside, your breath hitching in your throat at the sophisticated décor, trying not to feel out of place as Jamie gave his name for the reservation. He must’ve felt you freeze because he leant down to press a kiss to the top of your head, winking with a cheeky smile, making you giggle and smile back. Jamie wanted you here with him - that was all that mattered.

In no time at all, the two of you were lead to your table, Jamie ordering wine before the waiter left you in peace for a moment.

“So now that I’ve got you here in person…”

You felt your cheeks warming as he trailed off, that beautiful smile of his making your heart beat a little faster. Well he wasted no time at all.

“Yes, Jamie?” you said, trying to be as calm as possible.

“Obviously I haven’t changed my mind. I was never going to change my mind. Will you be my girlfriend?” he asked.

Your breath hitched in your throat, his blunt question affecting you just like it did when he’d asked you over the phone, and it was all you could do to nod. “Yeah of course I will, Jamie. My answer hasn’t changed either,”

Jamie laughed softly, almost as if he was relieved, making your chest fill with a little anxiety. Was he really that worried?

“You didn’t think I would change my mind, did you?” you asked, frowning slightly.

Jamie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No, not really. I just…I really like you so I was just filled with so much hope?” he offered.

You couldn’t help but laugh, nudging your foot against his.

“I really like you too,” you said, a little shyly.

“Well that’s good. Because I bought you something,” he said, grinning.

What?

Jamie bit his bottom lip before reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulling out a box. A pale blue box branding that you actually recognised – Tiffany’s.

Why would he…

“Here, I saw these and thought of you,” Jamie said sweetly, “Happy belated Valentine’s Day,”

You inhaled sharply as he passed you the box, unable to do anything but stay silent as you opened it. Inside were the most beautiful square diamond earrings you had ever seen, perfectly cut and polished. Fuck, these must’ve been so much money. Why did he spend that on you? Why would he…why? You swallowed heavily, looking back up at him. Jamie seemed to freeze at the trepidation on your face.

“Is something wrong?” he asked nervously.

“I…why did you buy me something so expensive? I don’t need…”

You trailed off, glancing back down at the beautiful earrings before letting out a shaky breath.

“Jamie, why?” was all you could say.

His tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip, and he sighed. “I really did just see these earrings and think how nice they would look on you, and that maybe you would like them? It may sound stupid, but I like buying things for the people I care about. Like, I fought so hard to work my way onto the team, still fight for a permanent place every day, and the fact that things are finally becoming more settled for me means that I have money I never had before,”

You opened your mouth but quickly shut it with a click, the look on Jamie’s face telling you he wasn’t finished.

“It’s not about showing off my money though. Everything that I’ve worked for means that I can spend money on things I never would’ve been able to otherwise. I like being able to treat the most important people in my life. You’re one of those people now. And I know that you don’t need expensive things, which is why I wanted to buy these earrings in the first place. You would never ask – you would never assume you were entitled to them, as the girlfriend of an NHL player. You just like me for me, and I wanted to show you how much that means to me. It’s, like, my love language or whatever. Seggy made me do a quiz,”

You couldn’t help but laugh, hand rising up to cover your smile afterwards. Of all the things to break the emotional moment. “Seggy made you do a quiz?”

Jamie blushed furiously, but nodded. “The love language thing fits too, how I like to show affection. He said I needed to know how to treat you right, how to show you how I feel. So you would never doubt it, even when I’m not there,”

You bit your bottom lip, glancing down at the gift once more.

“I don’t doubt it,” you said softly.

When you looked back up at him, Jamie had the biggest smile on his face, making your stomach fill with butterflies.

“So do you like them?” he asked hopefully.

“Yeah, of course I do Jamie. Just…this love language thing, it doesn’t mean gifts like this all the time, y’know? It’s just as meaningful to me to bring me, like, eggs when I run out or a cute pair of socks or whatever,”

Because as much as Jamie wanted to spend his money on you, he really didn’t need to. Expensive jewellery, as incredibly beautiful as it is and as astounded as you were that he’d even seen them and thought of you, wasn’t something you could use all the time. It could be a balance, right?

“I’ll bear that in mind,” Jamie grinned, “That doesn’t mean I won’t buy something for you if I see it though,”

You bit your bottom lip to hide the smile that threatened to spread across your face. Such a ridiculous man. Shutting the box in your hand, you slipped it carefully into your handbag for safekeeping.

“I still can’t believe you bought me Tiffany’s earrings. I’ll save them for special occasions? They’re so beautiful, Jamie,” you said, voice filled with wonder, even to your ears.

“Like I said, I saw them and thought of you,” Jamie shrugged, although his smile showed you just how pleased he was with that.

You felt your cheeks warm up at the compliment, a smile spreading across your own lips. “Shall we look at the menus before the waiter comes back?” you asked, trying to get the attention of yourself.

Jamie laughed, just nodding. “That’s probably a good idea,”

You picked up the menu, hiding the smile on your face that had now turned stupid, even more so as Jamie nudged your foot with his again. If this was just him asking you to be his girlfriend? Well, you couldn’t wait to see where your relationship went next.

You thought the little things Jamie did would stop now that you were official, now that he wasn’t trying to woo you anymore.

But if anything, his romantic nature only increased.

Even in only the space of a few days, the few days he had off with light training before his next home game, he delivered another bouquet of flowers to your workplace (making you the envy of your bank of desks) as well as meeting you for lunch every day. You knew it couldn’t last, couldn’t keep up like this (even just because of the fact that he would go on a roadtrip again soon enough), so you were soaking it all in while you could.

There was nothing wrong with enjoying the ‘honeymoon period’ of your relationship, right?

And it wasn’t just flowers and lunches – it was the little things too. Officially being his girlfriend seemed to take a door off its hinges in terms of affection from Jamie. He would give you a gentle kiss on the forehead in passing. He would kiss you on the cheek when you were sitting in his arms watching tv. He gave your hand a little squeeze whenever your hands were clasped, fingers linked while you were walking down the street.

It was all of these little romantic affectionate things that made your heart beat a little faster, your stomach fill with butterflies, your cheeks ache with a smile. He was so so sweet – surely this would last?

You could only hope.

Tonight was a big night. Well, perhaps not for some, but for you? Huge.

Tonight you were going to a game for the first time as Jamie’s girlfriend. You were going to be sitting with the other spouses and partners. While you were excited, of course, you were also so nervous. Who wouldn’t be? This was a big step. This was public. You were going to be sitting with Jamie’s surname on your jersey, identifying you as his. And that was a lot.

But he was so excited to see you at a game, to see him play when you were official, and there was no way you could say no. This was just nerves, that’s all. You could get over a few nerves for him, right?

So after putting on a cute pair of boots with your comfiest jeans and a warm long-sleeved top, you slipped on the Oleksiak jersey Jamie had given you, biting your bottom lip when you saw his name across your back. When you saw how much you liked it.

Yeah, maybe you could get used to this.

Hair loosely curled and make-up applied to perfection, you walked into the arena with the pass that Jamie gave you, smiling nervously as you made your way to your seat. The sheer size of the arena never failed to amaze you – the vast white spread of the ice vs the roar of the crowd was always a little overwhelming, which didn’t help your nerves. But you tried to focus on that rush of excitement for gametime, the underlying buzz you could already feel from the fans – that’s what kept your feet moving forward step by step. It wasn’t long before you spotted the names Bishop, Cogliano, Pavelski…

“Hey, you made it! Tyler said you were coming to support Riggy today,”

Tyler? Oh Seguin, of course, duh.

“Yeah Jamie gave Tyler my number, he was pretty enthusiastic about welcoming me to the team,” you said, smiling.

The beautiful blonde rolled her eyes fondly. “Yeah that sounds like Tyler,”

You just giggled, earning another smile.

“Come on, I’ll introduce you to everybody before warm-ups start,” she said, “I have no doubt that Riggy will take up all your attention as soon as he gets on the ice,”

Your cheeks flared with heat as she winked…but her teasing set you at ease. She was welcoming you like you already belonged, like you were already seamlessly part of the group – was that Jamie’s doing? Did he ask them to be nice to you? No…even if he did, that didn’t mean she had to be genuine about it. Deep breaths, you could do this.

“Come on!” she grinned, beckoning you forward.

You grinned back at her, letting her lead you towards the other women. There were a lot of faces, a lot of beautiful glamorous faces to put names to, but by the time you’d been introduced to everyone and guided into a seat, warm-ups started. Without even meaning to, you immediately started searching for Jamie’s familiar body, knowing you’d at least be able to identify him that way, head and shoulders above everyone else as always.

“Aww look at Riggy searching for you,”

You bit your lip to hide your smile at Andrea Bishop’s words, just waving as Jamie finally spotted you. When he waved back, his whole face lighting up, the other spouses and partners aww’d and cooed, making you laugh. You didn’t hesitate to blow Jamie a kiss, which he pretended to catch and press into his heart, making you laugh again at the cheesiness of the action. Jamie just winked at you before skating off to make some passes, your nerves finally settling.

“Oh wow, Tyler was right, you two really are sugary sweet,”

Oops, guilty.

“Yeah he is so head over heels, it’s so cute. There’s no way Riggy isn’t going to be showing off, playing like a beast tonight,”

You just laughed, shrugging.

“I can’t wait,” you grinned.

A chorus of cheers sounded from the women around you, making your stomach fill with butterflies. Somehow, with Jamie’s name across your shoulders and the smiles of the women around you, you felt like you belonged. Was it really that easy?

Weeks came and went. Games were won and lost. Jamie stayed the ever-sweet gentleman. You slowly relaxed into your new relationship. It felt like you were floating on a cloud, living in a dream…and if was a dream, you sure as hell didn’t want to wake up.

Every day he found a way to make you smile, to laugh, to count your lucky stars, and even your family was getting excited about this relationship. Jamie was…everything. He made it clear that he only wanted the best for you, even to the point of making your Instagram account private due to some unsavoury comments from ‘fans’. And it didn’t even matter whether you were in his fancy apartment or your not-so-fancy apartment – he made every moment one that you treasured.

It sounds sappy, it sounds dumb, it sounds too good to be true, you knew that. But you didn’t care. This was the happiest you’d ever been, and if it was too good to last like this then you were going to embrace and enjoy every single minute of it.

Tonight you were out at a bar with Jamie and his friends, all dolled up for Joel Kiviranta’s birthday, and you just knew that tonight was going to be one to remember.

“Happy birthday Kivi!!”

The birthday boy grinned at the loud cheers, accepting rough pats on the back and hair ruffles as he made his way to the large booth that the Captain had organised, the other Finns walking behind him. The bar was huge – dark lights but classy tables and booths – and while it was busy it wasn’t heaving with people. The music was just loud enough and the booths were spread out enough that you had enough privacy from the next group of people. It was the perfect place to celebrate Jamie’s friend’s birthday. You just grinned from where you were sitting on Jamie’s lap, enjoying the feeling of his arms wrapped around you, especially so publicly. All of this still felt so new, even after nearly 3 months in – but being surrounded by this much love, this huge family feeling…well, it was quickly becoming addictive. Who wouldn’t want to be in the middle of all of this?

“Captain buys the first round!”

The man in question rolled his eyes with a grin at Tyler’s loud declaration, dragging Bish up to the bar to help him too.

“Ready to let loose tonight?” Jamie murmured in your ear.

“Sounds like fun to me,” you grinned, turning your body to face him slightly.

Jamie grinned back, pecking your lips with a gentle kiss, before continuing his conversation with Dickie on his left, making you laugh and turn to Tyler on your right.

“Here’s to a good night!” Tyler smirked.

A good night indeed.

One drink turned to two, which turned to five, which turned to you needing to go to the bathroom pretty badly. You were still in the group booth, but rather than sitting on Jamie’s lap you were sitting next to him, some space having been made after some of the team went off to dance.

“Hey, let me past?” you said to Jamie, where he was blocking the exit of the booth.

“Where are you going?” he frowned.

You rolled your eyes fondly. “To the bathroom, and no you can’t come with,”

Jamie blushed fiercely but quickly stood up to let you out, making you laugh. As he sat back down, you leant down to press a slow sweet kiss to his lips, unable to stop yourself from smiling as Jamie’s hands clutched at your hips. He groaned at the whistles and jeers that sounded around you, making you laugh again, but you pecked one last kiss to his lips before standing up properly.

“Don’t miss me too much,” you teased, stepping away from him

“Hate to see you go, love to watch you leave!” he called back, earning loud laughter from the group.

You laughed loudly too, shaking your head, blowing him a kiss before you navigated your way across the bar to the bathrooms in the back. Thankfully it was empty, leaving you to do your business in peace. But just as you were pulling your underwear back up, the door crashed open, and two girls entered. From what you could hear, with their giggling and stumbling, they were well past drunk, so you sighed and sat down on the closed toilet seat, preferring to wait until they were gone to leave and wash your hands. Zero drama, please and thank you.

You tuned out as they started talking, Girl 1’s nasally voice loud and abrasive with Girl 2’s giggle already irritating…until you heard them start talking about the Stars. Then you couldn’t stop yourself from listening.

“…yeah it’s one of their birthdays. One of the Finns I think? I don’t know. Or care,” Girl 1 said.

Lovely. A big fan then.

“I don’t know, I reckon he wouldn’t mind a birthday treat,” Girl 2 laughed. You could only imagine the grin on her face, given the giggles from Girl 1.

“It’s such a shame that Big Rig looks out of commission though,” Girl 2 sighed.

Out of commission? Charming.

Then the other girl snickered, and you had no doubt she was rolling her eyes.

“So what? It’s not like this one is going to be around very long. He never commits to a steady girl,” her nasal voice said indifferently.

What?

You swallowed heavily, a pit of nausea filling your stomach. She was just making things up, right?

“I don’t know, this one’s already been around longer than usual,” Girl 2 said.

Girl 1, nasty nasal, just giggled. “Then obviously she’ll be out on her ear soon. She’s nothing special anyway. Trust me, Big Rig’s never committed before, and that isn’t going to change now,”

Oh fuck. You clasped a shaky hand over your mouth to hide the whimper that threatened to spill out. She was lying right? She had to be lying. Fuck, fuck why were you still listening to this?

“Come on, let’s go get some guys to buy us shots,” Girl 1 said.

The two of them walked out of the bathroom, but their smug words rang around your head, and it was all you could do to take a shaky breath, tears filling your eyes. The nausea only got worse, bile rising in your throat, but you took shaky breath after shaky breath until it settled again.

He never commits.

She’ll be out soon.

She’s nothing special.

That isn’t going to change.

Oh fuck. You choked out a sob before shaking your head, running a shaky hand through your hair. No, no you couldn’t stay around here knowing that’s what people thought of you. You couldn’t bear the stares and the smirks and the snickering. Not tonight, not now, not in front of the whole team and their better halves. Jamie…he wouldn’t, right? He wouldn’t act like that?

But what if they were right?

No, no, they had to be wrong. But still…what if?

What the hell were you meant to think? Whatever it was, you couldn’t decide here, couldn’t decide now. You had to go, that was the only way to preserve at least a little bit of your dignity. Fuck.

Yeah, leaving, collecting your thoughts, taking a step back, that was the way to handle this. Not to make a scene – that really wasn’t your style. Jamie…

Fuck, Jamie.

Jamie would just have to deal with it tonight. You didn’t want to say something you’d regret, that was for sure. So with a deep breath and a brief close of your eyes for confidence, you left your bathroom stall, washing your hands and quickly reapplying your lipstick in the mirror as armour. Yes, leaving was the best idea. At least for tonight.

The nausea returned as you walked back over to the group booth, and you knew that Jamie wasn’t the only one that noticed the unease on your face.

“Hey, what’s up?” he frowned.

“I don’t feel that great, so I’m going to head home,” you said softly, just loud enough to be heard over the music.

With that, you grabbed your jacket and walked away, not waiting for an answer. You sure as hell didn’t want to give anyone a chance to convince you to stay. But within seconds Jamie was by your side, his own jacket in his hand.

“Hey, wait up,” he said, smiling as he rested a hand on your shoulder.

Damn it.

“Stay, Jamie,” you said shortly, stopping in your tracks and turning round to face him.

“What?” he said, confused, “if you don’t feel well then I want to make sure you get home okay,”

“I don’t want you to come with me,” you snapped.

The hurt that spread across Jamie’s face made you feel sick all over again, but for different reasons. Oh fuck. That…that wasn’t what you meant at all. Where did that come from? Damn it.

“Um, I…”

“Just go back to your friends, J,” you sighed, interrupting, “I want to be alone right now,”

“Okay,” he said quietly, shoulders slumped in defeat, “Let me know when you get home?”

You just nodded, offering a weak smile before you turned and walked out towards the exit. Pulling your phone out of your bag, you quickly ordered an uber, thankful there was a car only 4 minutes away. At least something was going right tonight.

“I saw you and Riggy, you know,”

You flinched at the sound of Tyler’s voice as he stepped up next to you but stayed silent, not wanting to get into it. Not with him. Tyler just sighed.

“Obviously I don’t know what happened or what was said, but seeing you look that angry, and then Riggy looking so upset, only for you to walk out looking just as upset? I couldn’t just let you leave like that without checking you’re okay,” Tyler said softly.

Maybe he should’ve just let it go. But you knew Tyler well enough to know that he wasn’t going to drop this, not easily.

“It’s nothing,” you murmured.

Tyler just hmm’d. You laughed weakly, running a hand through your hair. Of all the time for him to be particularly insightful.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” you sighed.

Tyler smiled sadly at the defeat in your voice but nodded. At least he wasn’t going to push you for a proper answer. At least he was letting you leave with a little bit of dignity.

“Let me know when you get home safe? I’ll let you know when Riggy’s home safe too. He’s already downed a few shots so I don’t think he’s going to be in a good shape,” he said quietly.

It was all you could do to nod, wrapping your arms around yourself. Jamie was lucky to have such a good friend. With another sad smile, Tyler pulled you into a hug, not letting go until your uber pulled up to the curb. He gave your shoulder one last squeeze before stepping backwards, and you shut the door in silence, desperately trying not to break down just yet. The uber driver seemed to sense your mood, pulling away with nothing more than a gruff hello, and you just rested your head against the glass as you noticed Tyler still watching you.

You could only hope that he didn’t notice the tears trickling down your cheeks.

What a terrible night.

You still weren’t entirely sure if leaving had been the best idea…but you did know that the words those girls said still haunted you. Of course, you’d barely slept, their horrible comments swirling around in your brain, not made any better by the increasingly incoherent pleading texts that Jamie had sent you, as well as the confirmation from Tyler that he’d personally dropped Jamie off at his apartment because he was far too drunk to get home by himself.

You didn’t want to dwell on what had happened. But you also didn’t want to admit how much your insecurities played into their words. You couldn’t bear the thought of any of it being even remotely true – and you also couldn’t bear the thought of seeing Jamie look so hurt again.

So what the hell were you meant to do?

It was stupidly early when you dragged yourself out of bed, knowing full well that sleep wasn’t coming. You hadn’t bothered showering, hair a mess and eyes a little pandary where you’d only half-heartedly removed your make-up last night – coffee was the only thing you were focused on. Sweet sweet coffee, the only thing that was going to get to moving today.

But as you poured your first cup, the buzzer for your front door went, so you went to the intercom with a frown.

“Hello?” you asked hesitantly.

“Hey, it’s me. Can I come up?”

Jamie. Oh wow. What was he doing here at this time? You didn’t answer him, just bit your bottom lip as you pressed the buzzer to let him into the apartment building. There was no point in getting dressed or putting on make-up – he knew full well what you looked like at this time of day so he could deal with it. Well, that, and there was no time to do much anyway. All you did was scrub a little at the stubborn mascara, ensuring you looked a little less tragic and tear-streaked. By the time he was knocking on your front door, anxious butterflies had filled your stomach, but you let him in anyway, taking in his dishevelled appearance, wearing sweatpants and a tshirt that you knew he only wore when he was planning on lying around at home. So why was he wearing them out now?

“Thanks for letting me in,” Jamie murmured, closing the front door behind him.

“Why wouldn’t I?” you frowned.

Jamie winced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “I wasn’t sure where we stood after last night,”

“Jamie…”

You trailed off, sighing, the nausea and frustration and desperation of last night flooding your body all over again. Jamie swallowed heavily, taking a step closer towards you, but you couldn’t produce any more words.

“I didn’t want this to linger and fester, whatever it is. Whatever happened that set you off last night, whatever it was, I just…I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Jamie said sadly.

Any lingering anger or frustration you had fizzled away, and your shoulders slumped in defeat. Jamie frowned as your face crumpled, immediately stepping those final steps forward to pull you into his arms. That was all it took to make you start crying again, awful harrowing sobs into his chest, and Jamie cursed under his breath before holding you tighter, hand rubbing your back soothingly. It was like all the emotions that had hit you full force last night were resurging again now, full blast and agonising, and it was all you could do to bury your face into his tshirt, clutching at the material at the small of his back like an anchor.

You were lost, drowning in the hurt and misery you felt from those nasty words, and Jamie was the only thing keeping your head above water.

Eventually, somehow, your sobs softened down to sniffles, Jamie releasing his hold on you a little.

“Why don’t you take a shower, and then we can talk?” he said softly.

You just nodded miserably, bottom lip still trembling as Jamie gently guided you to the bathroom. You were exhausted – mentally and physically drained – and the only thing you really wanted to do was sleep. But Jamie was right, the two of you needed to talk. He turned on the shower for you, helping you out of your pyjamas, an oversized tshirt and short shorts, nothing sexual about his motions in the slightest. He just wanted to help, as he always did. Sweet gentle giant.

“I’ll be outside when you’re ready,” he murmured.

You mustered up a smile and nodded, letting him leave the bathroom before your smile dropped. You let the hot water pour down over your face and body, washing away the angst, the drama, the frustration, the sorrow. Things would get better, right? You’d get through this, right?

By the time you got out of the shower you felt a little less emotionally shaky, but still physically tired. It wasn’t like you could turn Jamie away now though. There was nothing else for it – you had to get back out there and face him. Luckily you’d left your dressing gown in the bathroom, so after drying yourself off and wrapping your hair in a towel, you threw on the dressing gown and headed into your bedroom…where Jamie was lounging on the bed, legs kicked up and back propped up by pillows.

“Don’t you look comfy,” you mused.

The smile he sent you in return, that beautiful big smile, made your stomach fizzle with butterflies.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, reaching a hand out towards you.

You instinctively took his offered hand in your own, smiling as he squeezed your fingers gently.

“Been better, been worse,” you shrugged, not wanting to lie.

Jamie’s smile dimmed to a frown. Here it goes…

“What happened last night? Everything was fine – or at least I thought it was?” he asked, confused.

Straight to it then.

“I don’t think you’re going to like it,” you hesitated.

Jamie’s squeezed your hand again, tugging to gently closer to him, until he could rest a hand on your waist.

“I just want to know what upset you so that I can make sure it doesn’t happen again in the future,” Jamie said earnestly, eyes wide and face serious.

Well damn. You sighed, taking a step backwards, earning a frown until you flipped your head upside down to quickly rough-dry your hair, making Jamie laugh softly. You flipped it back with a shrug and a small smile, dropping the damp towel to the floor – if you were going to bare your heart then you wanted to feel a little less ridiculous than with a towel wrapped on your head.

“It was nothing to do with you. Well, not directly? I was in the bathroom, about to exit the stall to wash my hands when these two girls came in. I stayed sitting in the stall because they sounded really drunk – loud and giggling and stumbling – and I didn’t think anything of it until they mentioned the Stars. So I continued to stay in the stall, and that’s when they started talking about you,”

“About me?” Jamie asked, confused.

You bit your lip briefly but nodded.

“Yeah, about you. How you never commit to any girl, to any relationship. How I’ll be out the door soon. How I’m nothing special. How you’d never change just because you’re with me for the moment,”

Jamie’s jaw dropped and he opened his mouth…but you shook your head, needing to finish.

“Everything they said hit me in my insecurities, Jamie. They made me feel like shit and start doubting everything, and I just needed to leave because I didn’t want to face anyone. And before I said something to you that I would regret. Then I went ahead and hurt you anyway, which only made me feel worse,”

There it was.

“Baby, you’ve got to know that nothing they said is true,” Jamie said gruffly, eyes shining.

Right.

“So you’ve been in a committed relationship before?” you snapped back.

You knew he hadn’t. You already knew that. So why did he say it?

“Well, no, that part’s true,” Jamie winced.

“Is that why you send me flowers, buy me gifts, shower me with compliments? Is that what you do? What you’ve done with all those other girls?”

As soon as those words left your mouth, you regretted saying them – but it was too late. Jamie��s jaw dropped, hurt flashing across his face just like last night, before he shook his head firmly. “No, I haven’t done any of that with any other girl,”

“You haven’t?” you asked dryly, folding your arms over your chest.

“No!” he insisted, “They were never worth it. Yeah, I used to sleep around a little. I’m not ashamed of that. It was fun and easy and I didn’t want the commitment when I was trying to cement a place for myself up on the team. But then I met you, and that all changed,”

You swallowed heavily, looking away from him as your eyes pricked with tears. You wanted to believe. You wanted to believe him so much. By looking away, you missed the way Jamie’s forehead creased with a hurt expression again, but you didn’t miss it as he stood up and moved to stand in front of you, so you had no choice but to look up at him.

“I know it sounds like I’m just saying these things, but it’s true. You can ask any of the guys. I’ve never felt like this before for any woman. I’ve never acted this way around another woman. You are so special to me – and I don’t want to go back to that life I had before I met you. This relationship we have is serious to me, and I don’t want to lose that because some jealous catty girls made you feel insecure about what we have between us,”

You couldn’t help but whimper at his soft words, chin quivering as you fought not to cry again, one hand coming up to cover your mouth. Jamie made a distressed noise, guiding you to sit down on the bed and kneeling down in front of you so you could see the anguish on his face too.

“I don’t know what else to do or say for you to believe me. I care about you so much, and I know that my track record doesn’t exactly help me out here, but you’re different. What we have is different. Please believe me,” Jamie said desperately.

The devastation in his voice filled your stomach with lead. He really was pouring his whole heart into this, wasn’t he? And what reason did you have not to believe him? Were you really going to throw away the best relationship you’d ever had just because of some gossipy girls in the bathroom of a bar?

“Okay,” you whispered.

“Okay?” he asked hopefully.

You swallowed heavily but nodded. “Okay, I believe you. I really want to believe you. So I’m going to try not to let my insecurity get the better of me,” you said, trying to sound as confident as you could.

The sheer relief on Jamie’s face made your heart beat a little faster. He leant his forehead against yours briefly, just long enough to inhale slowly, before he leant back, smiling the biggest smile you’ve ever seen, to which you could do nothing but smile back at him.

“I’m going to prove to you how much you mean to me,” Jamie said firmly.

“Jamie, no, I don’t need-”

“But maybe I do. Need to prove it, that is,” he interrupted, eyes wide but serious, “Maybe I need to do this for me,”

You bit your bottom lip but nodded. If that’s what he needs?

“Just don’t go crazy?” you winced.

Jamie laughed softly, but shook his head. “I won’t, I promise,”

Well that was something at least. He moved to sit next to you on the bed, hand lacing with yours again.

“Do you want to nap? Even just for another hour or so?” he said softly.

“Oh god, more than anything,” you groaned, nodding.

Jamie laughed, that beautiful smile back on his face, as he reached one arm back to tug his tshirt over his head. He stood up, pausing briefly, before he shoved his sweatpants to the ground, revealing himself to be wearing no underwear at all. He sat back down, eyes hesitant, cock soft against his thigh, completely bare and vulnerable to you, before he reached for your dressing gown sash. You stayed silent as he tugged it open, only moving to help him slip it off your body, leaving you just as bare as him. He smiled at you, ducking his head to give you the gentlest of kisses, before guiding the two of you under the covers.

“You’re everything to me, baby,” he murmured, hand rising to cup your face.

Your heart swelled with warmth and your eyes filled with tears, making Jamie frown until you captured his lips with a kiss, trying to pour your emotions into the embrace as your hands clutched at his shoulders.

“Hey, hey, ssh, it’s okay. We’re okay,” he mumbled between kisses.

You pulled away from him, inhaling shakily as you nodded.

“Hold me while we sleep?” you asked hopefully.

“Of course,” he said softly, smiling sweetly.

That smile was all you needed to reassure you as you turned over, letting him press his chest to your back and wrap his arms around you from behind. As you closed your eyes and relaxed, you felt him press soft absent-minded kisses to your neck, drifting off in the warmth of his hold.

Jamie sighed at the number of cars already at the training rink as he parked his car. He knew that his heavier-than-usual drinking at Kivi’s birthday two nights ago had raised some eyebrows, especially from the teammates who’d seen you leave early. Of course he was happier knowing that things were okay between the two of you again, but he didn’t relish the thought of explaining to anyone why you’d left, but if he knew his team (and he did, too well)

How people could be so cruel was beyond him.

He avoided meeting anyone’s eyes as he walked through the corridor maze to the locker room, just nodding at the few people getting changed when he dropped his bag on the floor. He could hear more people entering the room from wherever they’d been in the rink before he got there, but it wasn’t until Jamie was about to put his skates on that he heard someone clearing their throat next to him.

“Hey Riggy, got a minute?”

Jamie looked up at the sound of Tyler’s voice, raising an eyebrow as he noticed his Captain watching, along with Bish, Dickie and Pavs. Great.

“Sure,” Jamie said simply.

Tyler beamed at him and started walking out of the room, making Jamie sigh as he followed him into an empty trainer’s room. As soon as the door was closed, Jamie folded his arms over his chest, staring his teammate down.

“Is this an ordered interrogation?” Jamie asked bluntly.

Tyler just grinned, unperturbed. “Well it was either me by myself or a group intervention,” he shrugged.

Oof, no thank you. That would’ve been all kinds of awkward. Tyler laughed at the grimace on Jamie’s face, nudging Jamie with his shoulder until Jamie unfolded his arms. Tyler jerked his chin at a chair, indicating wordlessly for Jamie to sit down, so he did so, Tyler following his lead and sitting down too.

“You know we care about you,” Tyler started.

“Aww jeez Seggy,” Jamie groaned, interrupting.

Tyler just laughed, kicking out a foot at Jamie, toes lightly tapping his shin.

“I’m serious, man! You’re not normally a heavy drinker like that and we’re worried. I mean, I know that it had something to do with you and your girl, but she said she didn’t want to talk about it while I waited for her uber with her,”

“Thank you for making sure she was okay, by the way,” Jamie said, swallowing heavily.

Because he sure as hell hadn’t been able to himself.

“Yeah of course, Riggy. I care about her too, she’s a good person,” Tyler shrugged, smiling.

Jamie smiled back, appreciating Tyler’s candid caring nature even more.

“Are the two of you okay?” Tyler asked softly.

Jamie nodded, although he felt his smile dimming a little at the memory of how emotional yesterday had been.

“We spent yesterday talking, on and off. I went over really early in the morning to confront her. Not in an aggressive way, but like, to make sure she was okay and to ask her what happened? Well, she essentially had a breakdown and eventually told me why she left, and after we napped for a few hours, we just spent the day watching mindless tv in between talking more,” Jamie explained.

Tyler let out a sigh of relief, nodding, making Jamie smile slightly. The fact that his teammate cared so much about his relationship meant so much, especially with how close Tyler had grown with you in only a few months. To have that kind of support was so important to him – the team was like a second family, so it meant a lot to Jamie that they’d welcomed you with open arms.

“What happened? If you don’t mind me asking,” Tyler asked.

Jamie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

He never commits.

She’ll be out soon.

She’s nothing special.

That isn’t going to change.

“She was in the bathroom and overheard some puck bunnies talking about how I never commit to a relationship and how she was nothing special so I’d be ending our relationship soon enough. How I would never change,” Jamie muttered.

Tyler groaned, wincing. “Shit, I can see why she was so upset,”

Jamie just nodded, frowning. “I understand why she left, really I do. But I just don’t know what I can do to help her. People are always going to talk, that’s a downside of a relationship like this. But I just…I like her so much. And I hate that she felt so insecure yesterday, especially since I think she’s incredible,”

“Look…I haven’t known her long, and especially not like you do, but what I do know, I get it. I can see why she would be anxious,” Tyler admitted.

“Why? How?” Jamie frowned.

How could you not see how amazing he thought you were?

“It may be a couple of months down the line for the two of you, but it’s still new too. New enough. And you did play around a little – not that there’s anything wrong with that, you were always clear in letting those girls know you didn’t want anything serious. Just like you’ve been clear with her how much she means to you. This is the first time she’s had something so direct in person. It’s just…cut her a little slack,” Tyler reminded him.

Jamie felt his heart sink but nodded. Tyler was right. Of course he was right. Just because it felt like it had been years already…it was still new. Wonderful and incredible and heartstopping, but new.

“I know, of course I will. I told her I’m going to prove to her how much she means to me, but I just don’t know how,” Jamie said seriously.

Tyler laughed, shaking his head. “You and your love language man,”

Jamie blushed but shrugged. He wasn’t ashamed of how much he enjoyed being able to buy gifts to show his affection – because it wasn’t just empty gestures. Whenever he bought something, it was out of love, and every little gift meant something to him.

“All I can say is combine what you love with what she loves. Can’t hurt to have a balance,” Tyler said, shrugging.

Then he laughed at the exasperated look on Jamie’s face.

“Don’t make things complicated. Stick with the classics, Riggy. You can’t go wrong with the classics,” Tyler grinned.

“Yeah, alright you make a good point,” Jamie conceded, nodding.

A fancy dinner? A fancy dinner in a fancy restaurant could work, right? Somewhere special, where he could show you how special you were…

“Alright I can see the cogs are turning. We’d better get back to practice though, before Cap comes after us himself,” Tyler mused.

Jamie grimaced, making Tyler cackle as he stood up. He accepted the wordless hug from Tyler without hesitation though, thumping him once on the back before the two of them left the room. He could only hope to get through practice smoothly – he had plans to sweep you off your feet to make.

From: Tyler

So I heard from a little birdie that Riggy is taking you out to The French Room tonight?

The French Room. Hah. When Jamie had told you he had reservations three days after your long heart to heart, your jaw had dropped. One of the top rated dining places in Downtown Dallas?! And he had reservations?! You were so glad he’d given you forewarning though, because it meant you were able to dress up to match the venue. This wasn’t just something you could guess for.

Because somewhere this opulent needed something a little fancier than usual.

Luckily, a couple of weeks back after that first game you attended as Jamie’s girlfriend, some of the spouses and partners had taken you out for a girls’ afternoon, a boozy lunch with shopping afterwards, and they’d convinced you to buy a gorgeous pale blue long-sleeved knee-length lace dress, much fancier than you would usually buy, just in case. Just in case was the occasion tonight.

Jamie’s jaw had even dropped when he picked you up, eyes roving over your body, so you’d take it as a win.

Walking into the restaurant had your heart beating so fast – even the ceilings, arched and grand as they were, took your breath away. Jamie just watched you with a smile, hand gentle on your back as the two of you were guided to your secluded table. Jamie gave the waiter your wine order before you’d even sat down, making you laugh softly at the pleased look on his face.

“Someone’s prepared,” you teased.

“Someone’s worth preparing for,” he shot back, winking.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, only making Jamie smile wider.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jamie murmured, eyes staring straight into your soul.

“Jamie!” you giggled, one hand covering your face in embarrassment.

He laughed, reaching over the table to tug your hand away from your face, linking your fingers with his as he rested your joined hands on the table.

“I mean it. Everyone’s jealous that I’m with the most beautiful woman in the room,” Jamie said simply.

“Oh you smooth talker,” you mused, cheeks still warm.

“I’m going to keep saying it until you believe me,” he shrugged, laughter in his eyes.

“Your wine?”

Saved by the bell. Or well, the waiter.

“A toast?” Jamie said, picking up his glass when the waiter had left you once more.

“Toast to what?” you asked, smiling as you picked up your wine glass too.

“A toast to us,” he said smoothly, “a toast to us and all there is to come,”

You bit your bottom lip to stop the stupid grin threatening to spread across your face, but could do nothing about the butterflies that filled your stomach. The warmth in his eyes as your glasses clinked together made your heartbeat pick up as always, and then there was that beautiful genuine smile…how could you have any chance of surviving that? This was everything you needed after that awful evening – just you and him and a special evening together. What more could you ask for?

Then his smile faded into the most serious expression you’d ever seen him wear, and you swallowed heavily, heart beating fast for all different reasons now.

“I know you have your reservations, your insecurities about us, especially after the other night. All I can do is try to remind you just how much I adore you, how important you are to me. I know you don’t need fancy gifts or extravagant dinners all the time, but tonight…tonight feels special to me,” Jamie said.

“It feels special to me too, Jamie,” you replied, a little hesitant, “But…”

“No buts. Unless it’s your butt,” Jamie mused.

You couldn’t help but laugh softly at his cheesy words, the nervous tension breaking a little, although you still felt a little trepidation as Jamie’s tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. He only did that when he was nervous…

What did he have to be nervous about?

It was when he pulled a red box out of his pocket and passed it across the table to you that you got your answer.

Cartier. Holy shit.

“Jamie…”

You trailed off helplessly, only able to stare at the box in shock.

“Please, will you open it?” Jamie asked softly.

You bit your bottom lip but nodded, opening the lid with a shaky hand.

Inside was a delicate chain bracelet connecting to three overlapping rings, each a different colour of gold – rose gold, yellow gold and white gold. It was beautiful. The most beautiful thing anyone had ever given you. And Jamie had given it to you?

He cleared his throat, making you look back up at him.

“It’s called the sweet trinity. There was a whole blurb about it online, but, uh, from what I remember, the pink stands for love, yellow for fidelity and white for friendship. When I saw that, it makes so much sense to me - they are intertwined because you can’t have one without the other. Which is exactly how I feel about you,”

Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes pricking with tears and your mouth going dry. Holy shit. Holy shit.

Jamie saw the overwhelmed expression on your face and leaned forward, hand reaching out to hold yours, bringing your attention back to him.

“I saw the bracelet before the…event the other night. You can ask Tyler, I was with him. He teased me about being head over heels for you already. When I walked past that same Cartier store again today, I just followed my gut and went inside again – and there it was, still sitting on the cushion on display. It felt like fate,” Jamie said softly.

You inhaled sharply, looking down at the beautiful piece of jewellery again. Never had anyone bought you anything like this, never. And you didn’t want to know how much it cost – you could only imagine. For him to buy you something like this?

“I don’t know what to say,” you murmured, looking back up at him with wide eyes.

“Say you’ll wear it?” Jamie asked hopefully.

You laughed a little helplessly, cutting yourself off by biting your bottom lip. How could you ever turn down something that beautiful, when Jamie had thought about it just for you? When he’d gone back, followed his instincts, and still come to the same conclusion?

“Yeah, of course I will,” you nodded, smiling widely.

The answering smile that Jamie gave you filled your stomach with butterflies.

“Now?” he asked.

You just squeezed the hand that he was already holding, smile going a little shy as you flipped it over. “Will you help me put it on?”

Jamie inhaled sharply at the thin delicate skin of your wrist but nodded. “Yeah, yeah, if you want me to,”

You watched intently as he carefully took the bracelet out of the box, and your cheeks warmed at how gently he moved your wrist with his large hands, turning it just so to get the clasp done up properly. As the cool metal hit your skin, Jamie’s eyes widened, shifting a little darker as his tongue darted out to wet his bottom lip. Interesting.

“That looks amazing on you,” he murmured.

Huh. He really does like it.

You gently trailed a finger over the delicate chain, over the thin skin of your wrist, and Jamie inhaled sharply, making you grin. Maybe Tyler wasn’t wrong about this love language thing after all. Maybe it was exactly what Jamie needed.

“Maybe we should look at the menu?” you suggested, tilting your head slightly.

Jamie narrowed his eyes slightly at the teasing lilt in your voice, but smiled slowly, knowing that the obvious desire in his eyes made you squirm in the best way.

“Yes, good idea. The night has only just began after all,” Jamie smirked.

Well now there was a thought.

You woke up in Jamie’s bed the next morning with an ache between your thighs, early morning light peeking through the curtains, lengthening your body out in a luxurious stretch. Jamie was completely knocked out still beside you, and you couldn’t help but bury your face in your pillow to muffle your happy squeal. Last night had been amazing – not just because of the incredible gift Jamie had given you, but because of the feelings behind it. Jamie had shown his heart to you, and you had accepted it entirely. Anxiety and insecurity would never fully go away, but he had more than proven to you that he was committed to your relationship.

How could you be happier? Not only that but the food had been outstanding – Jamie’s eyes constantly flicking down to the jewellery on your wrist - and when the two of you had eventually returned back to Jamie’s home, well…he’d brought you to new heights over and over again, until you’d both collapsed in a blissful heap.

Things could only go up from here, right?

It was when you reached for your phone on the bedside table that you spotted the bracelet in its box again. Biting your lip, you snapped a quick picture and send it to Tyler, the previous night’s conversation above it.

From: Tyler

Whew that is a pretty little gift there.

I can’t believe he went back and bought it.

To: Tyler

Yeah he said that he’d seen it with you and you’d teased him about it.

Not that you had doubted Jamie at all, but it made your stomach fill with butterflies to see Tyler confirm his story without you even asking. Jamie was a man of his word – you could appreciate that.

Again, within seconds, Tyler responded.

From: Tyler

When do I not tease him?

The man is nuts about you, you know that.

His words put a smile on your face, and you glanced over your shoulder to the sleeping man in question beside you.

To: Tyler

Yeah I do know. I’m a lucky girl.

From: Tyler

Just as much as he is a lucky guy.

You snorted, shaking your head. Ridiculous man.

“What’s so funny?”

You jumped slightly at the rumbling voice beside you and put your phone down before rolling over to face your boyfriend.

“Oh nothing, it’s just Tyler,” you shrugged, propping your head up with your hand.

Jamie rolled his eyes fondly. “It is far too early for you to be texting Seggy when you should be snuggling up with me,”

“Oh should I?” you mused.

Jamie growled playfully, scooping his arms around you to tug you towards him, making you shriek and burst out laughing.

“You’re such a caveman,” you giggled, batting at his chest but making exactly zero moves to escape from his hold.

“If you’re naked in my bed, you shouldn’t be thinking of another man,” Jamie pouted.

And as much as you could tell he was joking, there was also a thread of vulnerability in his voice that made you pause for a moment, before smiling softly.

“For one, Tyler doesn’t know that I’m naked in your bed. I mean, I’m sure he can guess, but he doesn’t know. And two, I sent him a photo of the bracelet because we were talking about the date yesterday, and I wanted to tell him how wonderful you are,” you said simply.

Jamie bit his bottom lip, but he was unable to hide the grin that spread across his face. He pulled you even closer together, bare bodies fully pressed up against each other now, allowing you to thread your leg between his thick thighs where you were lying on your side facing him. It was…intimate without being intimate. It was perfect.

“Tell him how wonderful I am, hmm?” Jamie murmured, hand sliding around your waist.

You gasped softly as that large hand settled lightly on your ass, but you grinned.

“Mmhmm, and how lucky I am,”

“I’m the lucky one,” Jamie grinned back.

“That’s what Tyler said,” you nodded.

“Enough talking about Tyler,” Jamie grumbled, squeezing your ass firmly.

A desperate noise escaped your throat, a wave of heat rushing through your body at the claiming action, Jamie’s eyes going dark.

“Don’t stop,” you said, a little breathlessly.

Jamie groaned as if he couldn’t help himself, before he captured your mouth in a kiss.

The buzzer sounded and that was it.

That was the end of the Stars season.

Your heart felt like it was cracking, breaking right in two. Jamie had fought so hard throughout the months of the playoffs, given his blood, sweat, & tears in his desperation to win the cup. Hell, the whole team had. Another year, another chance slipping through their fingers. You couldn’t help but shed tears alongside the other spouses and partners and families in the box, all of you knowing how much this had meant to the men in your lives.

But now it was over, and you had to be there to help them pick up the pieces, to recover, and to come back even stronger. Like there was anywhere else you’d rather be.

The wait for Jamie to be able to leave was excruciating. All you wanted to do was to hold him in your arms, but he (and the rest of the team) had to go through media questions as well as their own team debrief, and by the time Jamie eventually appeared he looked exhausted.

Like, drained to the bone exhausted.

Without a word, Jamie passed you his car keys, linking your hands together as you left the arena. Jamie stayed silent the whole way home, during the drive and even after you’d walked in his front door, to the point where you couldn’t hide your worry on your face. What could you do here? How could you help him?

Jamie saw the concern on your face and just pressed a kiss to your forehead, before tugging you gently up the stairs to his bedroom. Silence. All silence. Deafening all-consuming silence that you had no idea what to do with but it was clear that this was all that your boyfriend could handle right now. So you would roll with it, give him what he needed, just be there for him. That part was easy at least.

He stayed silent as he stripped out of his clothes, staying in his underwear, so you followed his lead, thankful for the grateful smile he sent you. It was definitely a new feeling trying to read someone without any verbal prompts, but just the fact that you could tell what Jamie needed after only 6 months without him telling you felt good, like you were doing the right thing.

Jamie guided you into bed with him, waiting until you were settled on your back before he rolled mostly on top of you and buried his face into your neck.

Oh.

Oh Jamie.

You slid your arms around him, one hand rising to play with his messy curls, and you felt him let out a shaky breath, bringing tears to your eyes. This strong wonderful man was barely clinging to his composure and he trusted you to see him so vulnerable? That broke your heart all over again.

Time passed slowly, like wading through molasses, filled only with your fingers stroking Jamie’s curls and his shaky breathing, everything fading out until your world consisted of only the two of you. He needed you. He needed you. He needed you. And there was nowhere you would rather be.

Eventually, Jamie pressed a kiss to your neck, and lifted his head up to look at you.

“Thank you,” he murmured.

“What for?” you mused, cupping his bearded face with one hand.

“For being you. For supporting me. For making this suck less. Take your pick,” Jamie shrugged.

You laughed softly but curled your head down slightly to kiss him, just a soft slow kiss, before pulling away again. He still looked tired. Just so done with everything. And if you could help with that, even a little bit, then of course you were going to.

“I’m here for you, whatever you need,” was all you said.

“Hold me a little bit longer?” he asked hopefully.

As if you were going to say no to that. Instead of answering, you just pressed his head back down into your neck, earning a huffed laugh against your skin as well as a gentle kiss to the sensitive skin. You could feel his body relaxing finally, melting into yours, and you let your body do the same, the emotions of the day finally catching up with you. Just as you were starting to drift off, you felt Jamie kiss your neck again.

“I don’t really know what tomorrow is going to be like. Probably awful. But I’m glad I get to do it with you by my side,”

This man. This big beautiful tender-hearted man. How did he not realise how devastating he was to your heart?

“I’m not going anywhere. I’m going to be right here with you, as long as you want me,” you said softly, willing your voice not to crack.

Jamie hummed softly, pressing another kiss to your neck, before he buried his face back down. You cradled his head with your hand, squeezing the arm you had around his waist that little bit tighter. If he needed you to shield him from the world, to protect his head and his heart, then you absolutely would. He had always been there as a rock when you needed him, and there was nothing that could stop you from being the rock he needed in return now.

You didn’t know what this summer would bring, but you knew you would be right there by his side. The two of you had found each other out of nowhere, and there was no way you were losing him now. Jamie had your heart, just like you had his, and you couldn’t imagine your future without him. It had been a beautiful 6 months together – bring on tomorrow, and every day after that.

#my writing #jamie oleksiak #all the super sweetness that I love #i want all of this so bad - where can I find a guy like this?#i love this gentle giant #jamie oleksiak fic #jamie oleksiak imagine #jamie oleksiak fanfic #big rig fic #hockey writing #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic

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kalinara · 4 years ago

Text

On Aspec Identities

I’ve “joked” before that I know that it’s Pride Month, because as soon as June 1 comes around, I suddenly get to see a wonderful flood of aphobic bullshit on my dash.

Sometimes the people who reblog this shit aren’t themselves exclusionists. At least I’d like to think they aren’t, given that they’re mutuals who follow me, but out of ignorance, they join in on mocking what they don’t understand.

My block button gets a nice workout during Pride.

Anyway, since I do think (hope) that some of the people reblogging this nonsense do so because they are genuinely clueless, I’m inspired to write this post.

It’s very common, during Pride and otherwise, to see people mock the idea of aspec identities. For example, “fraysexual”, in which people only experience sexual attraction to people they don’t know very well, for example, celebrities.

It’s very common to see otherwise well-meaning people mock this idea. “I’m attracted to Chris Hemsworth! Does this mean I’m suddenly LGBTQ?!”

I don’t want to attack their reading comprehension, of course, but they’re missing something obvious in that definition: the word “only”.

If you are a woman and you are attracted to Chris Hemsworth, then you’re probably straight. Or bi. But if you’re ONLY attracted to Chris Hemsworth and NO OTHER MEN in the world...then maybe something else is going on.

Lesbians will often talk about compulsory heterosexuality and that’s a thing that asexual people experience too. Society has an expectation of allo-straightness and it’s very hard to define a negative, so it’s very common for a young person to express attraction to a fantasy, someone safely out of reach. Most of us will never meet Chris Hemsworth in real life, certainly we’ll never get invited to have sex with him, so we don’t really have to parse through whether this is something we really want to do. And well, if we’re not interested in the real life men that we know, it’s probably because they just don’t measure up.

Now, I think lesbians have one advantage in this case that asexual people don’t have. And that’s that they do feel attraction to women. It’s suppressed, and it may take a lot of time to realize it, but it’s there. And once you feel the real thing, I think that it makes it easier to see the “attraction” to Chris Hemsworth for what it is.

Most asexual people don’t have a “real thing” to put the fantasy and cultural programming into perspective. It’s very hard to define a negative, and often you end up doing that by defining everything else around out. That blank space is what’s left.

And that’s why aspec identities exist: because society has a really complicated relationship with sexuality in general. A physical sex drive can complicate matters too. Because that’s a thing that most people have. Hormones and gonads and all that. And if you think growing up with all those impulses is confusing already, try it when you don’t have a sexual orientation to direct it.

So that’s, I think, where a lot of these identities come from. Identities like fraysexual and lithsexual (sexual attraction ONLY if it’s not reciprocated) sound weird to an outside observer, until you understand that the end goal is not to have sex! The end goal is to process what we’re feeling and not feeling and define it for ourselves.

As a young person, I didn’t know I was asexual. I thought there was something wrong with me. I’d grasp at straws and think to myself that I must be straight, because I liked slash fanfiction. Because I liked erotica. Clearly I just never really had the opportunity to have sex. I have very specific trait preferences.

And then the invitation came! From someone who was objectively very attractive. He* was beautiful, a live action and real life version of the characters I’d read about, amazingly smart, great sense of humor. I’d fantasized about them for a long time before this moment. (More accurately, I should say “They” as later, they came out as non-binary. At the time though, I’d believed them to be male, just as I’d believed myself to be female. People are complicated.)

The fantasy was real! There was no better time! And....all I could feel was a resounding “NO.” I liked them a lot. But...no. No. (They took the refusal with good grace, they were really great!) The aftermath was rough on me though, because I no longer could fool myself.

I don’t consider myself lithsexual or fraysexual because in my case, the attraction wasn’t so much to the person as to the fantasy of being straight. But people come in all variations, and we can only really define ourselves.

Ultimately, aspec identities aren’t about you unless they apply to you. But for us, they can be a literal lifesaver. I spent a long time thinking I was broken. Why could I feel a sexual response when reading erotica but not want to have sex?! Obviously I can’t be asexual if I feel SOMETHING, right?

And then, and then, at the age of thirty or so, I stumbled across the concept of autochorissexuality. The idea of a disconnect between self and sexual desire. And I realized, wait. There I am. You can’t imagine the sense of relief.

THAT’s why these identities exist. It doesn’t MATTER if you understand them. It doesn’t MATTER if you think they’re valid. They’re for US, not you. And it costs exactly 0 dollars to shut the fuck up about something that has nothing to do with you.

#asexuality #aspec identities

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hms-no-fun · 3 years ago

Note

our question boils down to, “has there been an intentional plural archetyping going on in June’s system?”, but with this addendum for context. we’ve been doing a lot of reading about “Gatekeeper” archetypes, and X seems to have a lot of those characteristics. so we’re curious how much of that had more to do with the incidental outcome of writing a character like them / if at any point it wasn’t intentioned, but then became intentioned / other. really curious about the evolution of the process 💜

the short answer is no. the long answer is also no, but i’m gonna say more anyway.

i haven’t talked much about my own relationship with plurality. there’s a variety of reasons, but one of the big ones is that i’ve been afraid to expose the various pieces of myself to the world lest folks decide that i’m doing it wrong or that i fall into some kind of toxic dynamic or, worse, that by virtue of talking about my own plurality in public, that makes me some kind of expert or “community leader” in the eyes of folks outside hs/plural circles. maybe this seems like a self-absorbed sentiment, but it already happened to me once with being a trans woman! i don’t like it when folks project their morals onto what they think they know about me, because i simply cannot live up to them. i’m too bitchy, too angry, too full of opinionated snark, and the story i want to tell with godfeels 3.2 is one that will skirt dangerously close to a lot of potentially problematic subjects. no matter how careful i am, it’s only a matter of time before i say or do something that pisses the wrong people off. again, it’s happened before. and i just don’t want any aspect of my plurality to be part of whatever that conversation/dogpile ends up being (because let’s be real, folks are NOT normal about plurality in most spaces and are really eager to use it as proof of one’s antisocial derangement).

with that out of the way, i’m gonna talk a little bit about my own plurality here, because it’s relevant.

i said in my post announcing june’s canonical plurality that my hesitation in embracing it was partially because of my hesitation embracing my own plurality. i knew people in high school who were plural (though that term didn’t really exist yet afaik), and i mostly found them obnoxious and cringe. i never said anything mean to them or mocked them out loud, and in fact one of my best friends at the time had a woman in his head for a while... wow, damn, i forgot about this actually, me and her talked a lot back then, i was there with her when she decided to stop existing and i guess reunified with my friend? and i said for years after, “i think most people are lying about DID/multiple personalities but i know at least one person it was real for.” you know, i bet i believed him and disbelieved everyone else because “everyone else” were women lmao. god i was such an asshole

anyway uh, my judgmental nature throughout my teens and twenties came out of being a closeted autistic trans woman who worked VERY hard to understand what “normal” is for the in-group i was told to be part of (ie gamer bros and jocks). this shit got really fucking deep into my head, and i spent maybe four or five years just actively trying to not be like that anymore. and i’m still finding leftover bad habits and bad takes every day lmao. this is why it took me until 27 to realize i was trans, and until 31 to realize i was plural. turns out the people you most harshly judge, especially in your twenties, quite often are the people who remind you most of yourself! in my experience, anyway.

so, okay. when i decided to take June’s plurality seriously is around the time i decided to take my own plurality seriously, and so June’s system and my system are uniquely intertwined. i deliberately avoided learning the terminology before writing the Dirk and Risk/Dare chapters because i didn’t want the defined archetypal tendencies to override any given character’s personality. if i’d known what a “persecutor” was, for instance, i can see myself having made a lot of different choices about both Angel Dirk and X.

one of my headmates is, i guess, technically an ex-persecutor by definition? but that’s never how i saw her, really, and i think if i’d started from a place of learning other people’s models of plurality i might not have been so open to the mea culpa we had which finally forced me to accept her and my other headmates as real. they’d been piping up more and more as gf3.1 went on, and it scared me. if i’d known more, known that there existed a defined archetypal dynamic for our relationship (including a multitude of different but equally bad suggestions re: what to do about it) i might have let that fear lead me to treating them even worse than i already did. but maybe not! these things are impossible to know. my experience with first questioning my gender, however, was that the prevailing models of transness simply did not fit with my experience- so i anticipated that the same would likely hold true of my plurality in that i needed to engage with it on my own terms and find out what it meant for me, rather than understanding it as a scientific or sociological phenomenon. setting aside what i thought was “real” and what i could or couldn’t “prove” in favor of just feeling it out.

so here’s the thing. my experience of plurality is fluid, blended, and often ambiguous. it’s rare for anyone but “me”, sarah, to front, and when they do i’m still never quite gone. during the hell of the last four months, when we were applying to apartments left and right, i had such a nervous breakdown that my ex-persecutor did in fact take over for a couple days. but it’s not like i don’t remember doing what she did. so naturally there’s a part of me that’s always like, is this actually real? or is this just an idea i’m using to help me survive?? ultimately i’ve decided that the answer doesn’t really matter. whatever it is, it works for me. and it turns out my headmates give good advice sometimes! who knew

what i wanted with June’s system was to imagine plurality as fueled by the infinite creative power over reality inherent to her retcon powers. it is, in a lot of ways, a vision of my “ideal” plurality, one in which every member has complete independence yet is inextricably connected, where anyone can front and anyone can recede into obscurity as they desire, and where “headspace” as such is a field of endless creative and metaphorical possibility. from there, i wanted to give all four of them the chance to define their own personalities independent of whatever role they might play in the system archetypally-speaking. and i think the result of this is a group of characters who clearly constitute pieces of a whole, but in such a way that shows the “whole” is not lesser for being quadfurcated. it is, in fact, far stronger for its diversity of selves!

to bring all of this together, the whole point of going about June’s plurality (and mine) in this way was to avoid inadvertently medicalizing her system. i’m not particularly interested in plurality as a “condition” in the clinical psychology sense. i think some writers, when they actively choose to write someone as part of a marginalized identity they aren't themselves a part of or educated about, can take their supposed responsibility to create “good representation” far too seriously and too literally. good representation doesn’t try to be good representation, it just is. a plural person is not only a plural person, same as a trans person is not only a trans person. when writers TRY to make an interesting character with DID, for instance, they almost always fall into the trap of exclusively relying on medical literature without ever really questioning whether the medical establishment knows what the fuck it’s talking about, without seemingly any awareness of just how deliberately the DSM is positioned as a first and foremost capitalist psychological framework. they’re so obsessed with getting it “right” in some objective sense that they end up completely showing their ass over it, because there is simply no facet of human identity which can be objectively isolated and quantified with 100% accuracy. i will take a dozen poorly researched portrayals that treat their protagonist’s internal reality with empathy and respect over a “representative” homunculus defined solely by how their “condition” impacts their ability to function in normal society and how that’s really sad and tragic or maybe it’s very funny and silly but what it never is is just one character trait among many. it’s never a locus for examining unjust marginalization; in most contemporary narratives on the subject of plurality, even empathetic ones, their marginalization is a matter of safety that is ultimately as good for the marginalized as it is for everyone around them. attempts at "good representation" only ever seem to result in representation that is palatable for its intended audience of cishet neurotypical white people.

so, no, i didn’t do any intentional plural archetyping with June’s system, because i wanted these characters to show me who they were on their own terms, and because godfeels as a narrative is opposed to the tyranny of imposed archetypes (whether cultural or macrocosmic). but also, it’s kinda cool that they fit some broad archetypes anyway! that, to me, is evidence that i probably made the right call in taking this approach.

#godfeels #homestuck #plurality #june eg8ert #plural june egbert #representation #sarahposts

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akaashisupremacy · 3 years ago

Text

How to Find Love

Summary: Iwaizumi is on a quest to find love with an old friend. What can he do to get there?

Iwaizumi x fem!reader/Oc || Read it on A03

Genre : romance, friends to lovers

Hajime Iwaizumi ran into the cafe, eyes wide and panicky. “I’m already twenty minutes late for the date.”

As he composed himself before he entered the place, he took a deep breath. He was determined to enjoy this date because it might be their last. Hiromi had never taken lateness kindly.

“Gomen, the meeting ran longer than expected,“ he said, nodding his head into a bow, too embarrassed to meet her eyes, “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up from her books with a weary smile. Beside her was a pile of four or five books, some of which were beginning to yellow, meticulously tabbed with colorful post-its.

“You still made it,” she said, closing her book “I usually walk out if my date was a full hour late.”

It was a Thursday. She had an afternoon at the library while he had an early off (if it wasn’t for his work meeting). Neither of them worked traditional 9 to5 jobs. He began to wonder if seeing each other would be easier if they did. Iwa was leaving on a Friday for Osaka for the rest of the weekend. He was a physical trainer for a professional volleyball team, which meant that he travelled with them during their season.

They called for a menu and began to order what would be their dinner.

“How’s work?” he asked, surveying her through the menu.

“It’s a lot of reading,” she gestured towards her stack of books, “But we’re at the beginning of a new research-heavy campaign so it’s normal. How about you?"

“Mmm…it’s still the start of the season so most of the team is quite healthy. Some of them are a little excited so we’re just trying to reign them in to keep them from straining themselves.” he said, thumbing through the pages.

He had settled for a hamburg curry rice while she had gone for a bowl of tuna pasta. She looked distracted.

“What’s up?” he asked, leaning into the table now that the niceties were done with.

“I like my job. I like my team. But why do I feel like I’m just grinding day in and day out." she sighed, resting her chin on her books, “There’s got to be more in adult life than this."

“You’ve got to find the reason out on your own because your employer won’t do it for you. Not that I’m qualified to give advice or anything.” he said, looking up from his drink.

“I know,” she murmured, her head rested between her folded arms “It’s just so difficult to find the energy for it sometimes.”

Iwaizumi nodded. He knew what she meant. No one job could fulfill all his desires for accomplishment. He liked his job, but it wasn’t a perfect job. He wished that he didn’t need to spend so many weekends away from home.

Man, this date was sobering.

“You sound burnt out. Maybe take it slower at work?” he quirked his head to match the angle of hers.

“What is it that you want to do that you’re not doing for work?” he asked. Despite less than a year in the workforce, she already looked so glum.

She pulled herself up and swept her books aside, “I don’t know to be honest. Within the next two years, I just want to be published in other big publications. It doesn’t have to be necessarily on food, more like the stuff I write for fun. The stuff I’m willing to freelance while I have a day job, y’know?”

“Like what?”

Their order had arrived. She stabbed her fork into her pasta and gently twirled it around.

“The New York Times has a column called Modern Love where you write a long essay about some type of love. It doesn’t have to be romantic. It can be platonic, familial, or even failed love as long as it is set in modern day. I’ve been meaning to write about my failed relationships.” she said thoughtfully.

Iwa choked on his first spoonful.

“Well, if this doesn’t work out, I can at least write about it. Get three hundred dollars and buy you dinner to thank you for the experience.” she laughed drily.

“Are you always this pessimistic on your first dates?” he coughed, taking a sip of water “Either ways, I’m glad to be of help.”

She perked up a bit and grinned. Her whole face lit up when she smiled. A wave of warmth washed over him.

“Send me a copy when you get published.” he added, “I want to see what you write about me.”

“I’m definitely going to writet that you were late on the first date.” she said without skipping a beat. She was grateful that they had chosen this cafe. There were not too many people even if it was dinner time, yet the ambient noise that filled the air kept their pauses from being too silent.

Iwa stopped eating and squinted his eyes at her, “You are not gonna let me live this down, huh?" She winked at him with a glint in her eye. He smiled in response.

He couldn’t care less about what the New York Times was but she was evidently fascinated by it. He wasn’t going to own up to uncultured swine he was on a first date. He had already been late.

“Anyways tell me more about this Modern Love.” he settled back into his dinner.

She pulled out her phone and began typing, “The Modern Love column came out with questions to help get to know someone. This could be a fun date activity.”

“Sure, you want to give it a go?”

She shoved the phone in his face and scrolled through the questions. “There are three sets of questions. Each set more intimate than the last. You can choose from the first set.”

Iwa lightly held the phone, his fingertips grazing the back of her hand. He chose the first question that caught his eye.

“Number 4. What would constitute a ‘perfect’ day for you?” he read out loud. Hiromi took her phone back and read the question to herself.

“What’s your answer?” she asked.

“I just got back, I hadn’t figured out what a perfect day would be like here.” he shrugged sincerely.

She snorted loudly, “What a cop out answer!”

Iwa looked up and thought for a bit, “A day spent walking around in the city…maybe a day that starts with a morning jog and a hot unrushed breakfast after. Catching up with friends sounds good too.”

Hiromi nodded. She was fully absorbed as he talked. It was like she was going through the scenes of his day in his mind as he described them.

“What about you?” he asked, snapping out of her out of her reverie.

“A day at the market,” she said quietly. ”Any market day is a good day really.”

“To be honest, it doesn’t depend on the activities so much at times. The people you’re with is definitely important. A day at the market can still be terrible with the wrong company.” she added.

“I wasn’t subpar last weekend, was I?” he asked.

“No...you weren’t.” she replied a little more shyly than usual.

They moved onto the next question.

“What roles do love and affection play in your life?” she read out loud, “Doesn’t have to be romantic again.”

Iwaizumi inhaled sharply. That was such a loaded question.

“If you’ll use this for an article and it gets published, you better buy me dinner someplace nice.” he tutted.

“Then make this one good.” she smirked.

Iwaizumi stopped eating for a few minutes to think through the question. Before he answered, he closed his eyes and breathed out slowly.

“It defined my entire career in volleyball. My best friend and I watched a game and we kind of chose to go into the same school team after that because we were both so obsessed with the sport. Our connection was almost telepathic. We barely used signals when it was just the two of us. We basically ran off instinct.” said he softly, his eyes reminiscing a different time.

“Although we went our separate ways after high school, I spent so much time in volleyball that it defined a huge part of who I was too. I mean, if I didn’t play volleyball, I would probably be in another sport, but I’d still think I’d be different, y’know?”

You could tell he was avoiding the word “love.” Iwa was not one to be vulnerable.

“In college when I was in my first serious relationship, it was the type of love that gave me confidence and assurance. But I guess it wasn’t enough…for me to say it deeply impacted my later choices on career and other decisions, unlike volleyball.”

“I can’t help but feel that any defining…relationship I have romantically will be weighed against with my time with volleyball…my first real love…" he tried to laugh it off, but you felt the weight off his words, “And I’ve been lucky enough to have enough love in my life that I don’t need to constantly be in a relationship to feel complete.”

A moment of silence fell in between the two.

“That’s a lot to heap on a relationship.” she whispered in contemplation.

Iwa awkwardly scrambled for damage control, “…no pressure.” was all he managed to say.

“So why try to date? When it’s so tough to find someone who can match up with volleyball?” she asked.

“Companionship?” he shrugged, “It’s still nice to date around.”

“And you’re…nice. I’ve been wanting to date you since we were in college. I’ve liked you for a long time…” his entire face flushed pink.

Her eyes fluttered wide open. Since college? Is he serious?

“Our friends were right,” she said in a hush, “You did have a thing for me. I thought they were just teasing us.”

“You had a boyfriend back then and when you broke up with him, I was seeing someone else.” he exhaled, looking her earnestly in the eye, “Wasn’t it obvious to you?”

Iwaizumi couldn’t tell if Hiromi just didn’t want to speak or was too busy contemplating. She was too stunned to speak.

“It felt like fate seeing you on the plane.”

A million things were going through her mind, she slowly opened her mouth, “Now that we’ve been on two half dates, what’s it like? Is this what you’d thought it would be?”

“College is very different from now, but the short answer is yes.” he nodded, rolling his shoulders back. “Everything just clicks. I’m so comfortable with you. It’s so easy for us to talk. I like you just as much as I did in college…I just really like you. Time hasn’t changed that at all.”

Hiromi looked overwhelmed. She was unable to look him in the eye. She was barely getting to know him romantically and he had long been decided about his feelings for her.

“Do you wanna ask if they sell alcohol here? You look like you need a drink.” he joked. Hiromi didn’t look like she heard him.

"This is so intense for a first date.” she shook her head in what seemed like regret.

“We can stop,” he gently interjected, “We can talk about something else.”

She finally looked up to him and whispered, “Hajime, you’ve just dumped a lot of pressure on me.”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to do that,” he smiled apologetically, “Anyways, I’m aware that we’re both at different…stages of attraction. Besides, I think this would be way more awkward if we both were pining.”

“Wouldn’t that be sweeter?” she asked.

“Way too sappy for me.” he waved with his hand. Hiromi let out a small chuckle. Iwa secretly sighed in relief.

——————————————————————————— After dinner, they headed to the arcade to blow off some steam. Iwaizumi offered to carry some of her books to which he somewhat regretted. Her books were like rocks. How the hell was she lugging them on her own in the city?

“I could carry them on my own if it’s too heavy.” she offered.

Iwaizumi looked at her incredulously. She was at least half a foot shorter and much smaller in build. His biceps weren’t going to buck in front of her.

They wandered around the arcade for a bit, unsure what to do first. Iwa silently prayed they didn’t have to do any dancing. Just when they were about to decide on the claw machine, Hiromi pointed towards a small karaoke booth at the corner of her eye.

“Let’s go in there.” she tugged at his jacket.

Iwaizumi flipped through the songs. None of them seemed to be in Japanese. All of them were in English.

“Did you pick up a default english karaoke song?” she asked, browsing through the catalogue. The room was clearly designed for kids. It was so small their knees touched and Iwa could barely sit up without hitting his head on the ceiling.

“Nah,” he shook his head, “I don’t really sing…in English. Any suggestions?”

Hiromi typed in the number of a song.

“I’m about to introduce you to your first usable English karaoke song.” she grinned at him mischievously. Iwa looked at her suspiciously.

The opening notes started to play—some acoustic guitar and a trumpet. The song sounded…Mexican? For the longest time there were no lyrics on the screen. Hiromi swayed to beat as her eyes were glued to the screen. When the song finally began to hit what sounded like the chorus, the music paused for a second.

“TEQUILA!” she yelled into the mic.

Iwaizumi was so startled he jumped up and hit his head on the ceiling. Hiromi was giggling uncontrollably.

“That’s it?!” he exclaimed.

“Yeah,” she laughed, pressing the mic towards him, “You try on the next chorus.”

When the trumpets began playing, Iwa readied himself. The song hits its familiar pause soon enough and he pulls the mic closer to his lips.

“Tequila?” he said tentatively.

“With more conviction, Hajime!” she urged, taking back the mic. On the third chorus, she moved closer to him so they could share the mic.

The music hits its third pause, they looked at each other and yelled, “TEQUILA!”

They both grinned and laughed, almost as if the act of singing about alcohol was like a drink in itself. He could feel her shins pressed against him as she continued to sway for the music. A glint in her eye flickered as she nudged him to dance along with her.

Iwaizumi wasn’t going to refuse. Especially not on their first date. He swayed what he could on the tiny box while the song lasted.

————————————————————————— At the end of the night, they both sat in the train waiting to get off on their respective stops. The carriage shuttled back and forth, pushing and pulling their bodies back and forth into each other.

“Hajime,” she tapped him on his shoulder, “We didn’t finish the last set. Let’s do a quick one before I get off.”

He nodded, “Pick one we can answer with just one word.”

Hiromi swiftly browsed the list, before looking up.

“Finish the sentence, ‘Right now, we are both feeling…’"

Their faces were both so close they could feel the heat of each other’s breath. The back of their hands were touching, but neither dared to reach out or pull away.

“Hopeful.” whispered Hiromi, an evident earnestness in her voice. She was fighting off her shyness just long enough to look him in the eye when she talked.

Iwa smiled, “Smitten.”

Before she could react, the train jolted as it shuffled towards her station.The train stopped at Hiromi’s station and she got up from her seat, taking the books from Iwa’s arms.

He followed her to the exit and watched her as she got off. She gave a small wave from the platform while she watched the doors closed.

Iwa was tempted to press his hands onto the window, unwilling to end their time for the evening. His last sight of her was her smile when the train plunged itself into the night.

“Did he start out his day at the market with a morning jog?” she asked herself, watching the train swiftly pull away.

Iwaizumi took a deep breath. The night had gone differently from how he thought the date would proceed. For one thing, he didn’t expect to confess so early into the relationship.

He took his phone and curiously googled the questions she mentioned.

It turns out the title of the New York Times article was not “Questions to Get to Know Your Date” as Hiromi had led him to believe. Instead, it was titled, “Thirty Six Questions That Lead to Love”.

“Huh,” he said to himself. He shut off the screen to his phone.

36 was too much. In his opinion 3 was enough.

-----------------------------------------------------------

This is part 3 of a series on Iwa living in Tokyo after he moves back from California. Comment or message to be added to the taglist.

Also, I’ve been feeling quite down lately, so say some nice things if you feel like it in the comments 😬✌️

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4

Series taglist: @itstheee-ha-chan

#iwazumi fluff #iwaizumi imagine #iwaizumi x you #iwaizumi hajime 27 athletic trainer #iwaizumi hajime #hajime iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime x you #iwaizumi hajime x reader #iwaizumi x oc #seijoh x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #hq fanfic #hq x oc #haikyuu x oc #iwaizumi scenarios #iwaizumi series #hq fluff #hq imagines #hq scenarios

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