#prev tags i’m giggling

[mishapen-moth]

i’ve been waiting for this one

"you cant get married platonically, marriage is about LOVE and COMMITMENT" yeah love for the bit commitment to the bit

[basicallyjeankirschtein]

jjk men x streamer!reader

╰┈➤ Collab?

chapter two.

ೃ⁀➷ you and gojo get matched with toji, sukuna, and choso, much to the viewers surprise! ft. everyone thirsting for you + jealousy

* not proofread

masterlist. prev. next.

you tried to focus on the game in-front of you, but the fact that your usual 10-50k audience grew to 300k was freaking you out. just a bit.

not to mention your chat going crazy. usually, it was easy to catch every message and interact with everyone, but now? it was moving so fast, how did gojo put up with this stuff?!

thankfully, everyone was talking about the same thing. the thing being that you matched with toji and his friends.

just like toji, you lived under a fucking rock. yea, gojo was your best friend, but you’ve purposefully been avoiding him since he’s gotten famous. this kinda stuff isn’t your thing- you didn’t even mean to gain 50k without his help, it just sorta happened.

you were a student and you worked at the cutest little cat cafe, you didn’t have time to watch streamers. the only influencers you knew of were gojo and utahime, not because you watched their streams, but because they were your friends. maybe you were a loser.

you tried to act surprised, but honestly you were more surprised with how shit this iron fist was playing.

“chat, which one is the iron fist?” you asked, all of which responding ‘toji.’

unfortunately for you, living under a rock seemed to only bring misfortunes to your life. as the minute you knew his name, you spoke,

“can someone tell toji to swap. he fucking sucks.”

even gojo looked a bit shocked by your comment, but he immediately burst into laughter.

“y/n, you are so lucky you’re streaming with me.” was all he said, and now you were stuck furrowing your eyebrows together and pouting in confusion. even your chat was going crazy over your comment.

who even is toji? you wondered with a huff. when you died, you took the time during your characters respawn to quickly look him up.

oh no. he was hot.

he was also famous, you noticed, but you were more focused on the fact that you just disrespected an extremely hot man!

well, it’s not like you had a chance. you reassured yourself, and once you had finally calmed yourself down, reminding yourself he was just another random man, you realized he is in fact not random.

was this the guy gojo was always whining about? something about him stealing his viewers or something- oh god. you must’ve just woken a wild pack of fangirls, cause you were totally going to be ripped to shreds on twitter after this.

despite internally freaking out about how toji’s fanbase now viewed you, you kept a stoic face, emotions unreadable as you continued the game.

suckunathesenuts: gojo ur friend is funny asf

suckinathesenuts: y/n say something about toji again he doesn’t believe us when we say he’s trash but he will if a pretty girl does

chochoso: pls i can’t keep losing my rank games because of him ):

you couldn’t help but laugh at his teammates messages in chat. you knew your chat would snitch on you to toji, but at least his friends were backing you up. you think.

the comment ‘pretty girl’ had you head spinning, a small blush coating your cheeks. you were going to say thank you, but gojo cut you off.

“don’t respond to these losers,” he spoke, his voice gruff. he sounded uncharacteristically mad.

you just hummed in response, “it’s not a big deal, they’re just messing around. sorry toji,” you waved at your screen as if he was watching, hoping someone in your chat could relay your apology to toji.

toji didn’t believe his chat when they told him you had said he sucked, “yea, nobody thinks i suck. i’m the best iron fist in this server.” he grunted, in which sukuna burst into laughter and called him delusional.

even choso giggled a bit. now that pissed toji off.

“okay, sure. i don’t believe it.” toji grunted. but, the moment he opened twitter, his notification boxed was filled with people tagging him in the clip of you saying he sucks. man, things spread fast.

“yo, toji, play the fucking game.” sukuna yelled into his microphone, clearly upset toji went afk to look at his phone.

“i think it’s better with him afk. now there’s nobody for the other team to farm.” choso giggled, in which sukuna thought that was the funniest thing on planet earth because he legitimately slammed his fist against the desk with each laugh.

“it wasn’t that funny, dude.” toji growled, though his tone seemed uninterested. he was more focused on you in the clip.

not only did you say he sucked, not only did you not even know who he was, but you were hot??? this hurt his ego, a little (a lot).

damn. even his fan page called him out.

grunting as he ran a hand through his hair, he noticed sukuna and choso talking to you in game chat. what the hell? since when did they get all friendly.

and sukuna calling you a pretty girl might’ve made toji grit his teeth.

“everyone shut the fuck up. i’ll change.” he said, letting his character die so he can switch to another character. sukuna looked absolutely flabbergasted, toji was actually going to listen to advice for once?

toji wasn’t about to admit it, but he was totally trying to impress you.

you were surprised to see toji actually listened to your request. you felt kinda bad for making him swap, but he was way better on adam warlock than iron fist.

“wow, he’s going crazy now.” you laughed. it was true, but you were mostly saying that to butter him up. not only did you not want to have one sided beef with a huge streamer, but he was hot as hell! if you had a chance, you were going to take it.

gojo did not seem to agree, as he laughed at you rather than with you. “yea, right. he still sucks.”

you narrowed your eyes at the webcam, confused why gojo was acting so hostile. he was never outright mean. yea, he could be passive aggressive and sarcastic with those he didn’t like, but you’ve never seen him like this.

“says the one who has no team assists,” you laughed, trying to lighten the mood, but that only made gojo even grouchier.

gojo was also playing really bad, that wasn’t usual for him. he was naturally talented at every game he played, you never knew how!

it was like he was distracted with something, and when you looked down at your phone, you found out why.

he was too busy tweeting instead of playing the damn game!!!!

it crossed your oblivious mind that he tweeted that because he was jealous and upset about the attention you were receiving.

chochoso: y/n… i think we are the only ones left playing. all our teammates are afk ):

whoever this chochoso was, was right. everyone on your team except you and him went afk. even the random went afk!! it was remarkable you haven’t lost the point yet, choso was a crazy spiderman.

y/nissleepy: our friends suck!!! does this by default make us best friends now???

chochoso: yes!

you wondered if choso had a social media too, considering he was friends with toji.

you very discreetly opened your twitter to look at toji’s mutuals, and low and behold, there was choso.

how could someone be so cute yet so sexy at the same time.

you were usually shy about this sort of thing, but without hesitation you followed choso. he followed you back almost immediately.

you looked up at your video call to see what gojo was doing, he was completely immersed in his phone. it looked like he was texting someone- very harshly, by the way he was practically hitting his phone with each tap.

biting your lip, you decided to message choso. your stream just started, you didn’t want to awkwardly end it just because everyone’s gone afk.

playing with choso was fun. he was such a cutie, and after the first two games, he asked if you wanted to video call. you did not hesitate to say yes.

gojo hadn’t even noticed you left the call.

“hi!” you waved at your camera, the confidence you had when you initiated the conversation with choso drowning away in an instant when you saw him appear over the screen. he was even cuter than on his twitter, he had this messy hair held in ponytails! how adorable was that?! your mind started to drift when you wondered how easy it would be to tug on his hair, and that’s when you had to remind yourself it’s truly not that serious and this is a man you just met.

but god, did you have a soft spot for scary men that were actually cute.

you guys loaded into another game, making small talk as you played. both of your chats brought up the chemistry between you two, but both of you chose to ignore it (not without blushing first).

not only did your chat notice the chemistry, but so did your friends.

“since when did y/n leave the call?”

“since when did choso leave the call?”

both gojo and toji questioned this as they looked at their empty voice chats. sukuna realized it a while ago, when they were talking in game chat, and didn’t bother trying to stop choso.

toji on the other hand, looked angry. “what the hell. he left us to play with her! she wasn’t even relevant until today,” toji growled. sukuna raised his eyebrow, though didn’t reply.

gojo had been busy messaging geto. geto is BEYOND thirsty to stream with you, he’s not even trying to hide it to his stream or nanami.

gojo didn’t even know why he was so jealous. you may have been oblivious, but this guy was downright stupid. he had maybe one brain cell and three jellybeans in that head of his. he couldn’t even decipher the motive behind his jealousy was the attention you have been receiving, especially the attention of toji and geto.

and now, apparently choso.

this video is so funny i love you roblox shrimp games

tag list

@estella-novella @ourfinalisation @definetlynotanalien @fuckisthatahotghost @m-0ona @sillybillylamb @ayla-1605 @l-ilysm @randoperson22 @mentallyunpresent @poopooindamouf @1ennj4 @ex1acy @lunavelha @trsh-kitty @b3bybunny @onna-musha-mari

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PRT.8

08 : TONIGHT

CHPT. SUM. : you finally get to call them yours and they finally get to call you theirs and it's amazing! but something's missing...and it absolutely has something to do with the ache between your legs! 

LENGTH : 6.1k

TAGS. : very suggestive chapter ; boys and reader being horny for each other ; but do we blame them? no. we. don't! ; james being a pest ; sirius being a hot biker ; remus being a gentleman ; reader being a brat ; remus not being a gentleman anymore ; prologue to nsfw chapter

← PREV. : 07 | APOLOGIES & COMFORT | SERIES M.LIST

You don’t know what you expected when the boys slowly began integrating you into their already-established relationship. In the beginning, you were worried about feeling like an outsider. From what they’ve shared with you, the boys have been best friends since their secondary school years, meaning that their history with each other was deeply rooted and you were intimidated, to say the least. You’re just a simple girl they helped protect from a creep a year or so ago. You couldn’t possibly stack up to the type of love they have with each other.

This was a reasonable insecurity to have, the boys understood that and were always there to reassure you of its negligible influence. And when their words weren’t enough, they happily showered you in affection, from loving kisses to warm embraces. They flirted shamelessly, left lingering touches scorched along your exposed skin and pulled you into kisses that ranged from feather-light to deeply passionate, they were eager to kiss and squeeze that vulnerability away until it no longer remained in your beautiful eyes. And you appreciate them so much for their efforts.

Not a second goes by when you don’t feel loved by them, or underappreciated. The love you reciprocated, although much softer and, somewhat, apprehensive, always made them melt into your arms. It was quite the trial considering how much bigger these men were compared to you. But you didn’t mind. Their warmth and weight against you only reinforced the realness of the situation, your situation, your relationship.

This was a dream come true – the best-case scenario for the mounting love you were amassing for each of the three tattooed and pierced men working at the parlour. If you told yourself this would be the outcome months ago, you wouldn’t have believed your ears.

“You’ve got that starry look in your eyes again, dollface,” Sirius chuckles as he presses a loving kiss to your fluttering eyelids, “what are you thinking? Hmmm?” The tattooist currently had you in his lap, disregarding the clock face on the wall. He was supposed to be preparing for a client who would be arriving soon but, instead of being a responsible tattooist, he had himself preoccupied with you.

“Sirius, you’ve got a client coming soon,” you pout, appearing more stressed over his appointment than he is.

As dramatic as always, Sirius put on a big show of missing you, his arms flailing about with his voice fluctuating in his theatrics, “But I’m feeling very deficient in vitamin ‘you’, sweetheart! I need to get my necessary second dose,” you roll your eyes at his playfulness and quietly argue about how this wasn’t his second dose.

“Rather, it’s been your fourth or fifth dose already,” giggling, you endeavour to kiss his pout away before trying to leave so he could have the time to prepare for his appointment while you caught up on your university assignments. Next thing you know, he has you nestled into his lap with your coursework papers set aside and your laptop closed shut. All your attention needed to be on him; he wanted it all.

“We have eight minutes,” he wagered deviously.

You’ve come to find out that Sirius was pretty spoiled when it came to affection. The distinction becomes even more apparent when you compare him to Remus and James. Thankfully, that translated into Sirius happily initiating affection as much as he pleads for it. He’s just this handsome, broad man with the most beautiful grin and the prettiest grey eyes separated by his perfect nose – he’s irresistible, really. And you know that he knows it too; all he has to do is pull those puppy-dog eyes and he gets anything and everything he wants. It’s almost frustrating how he wins your favour each time but you never regret giving into him.

No. Never for Sirius.

…Or Remus. Or James. God, you love these men so damn much!

“Doll?” he tilts his head adorably, a habit he’s picked up from the personified golden retriever himself – James.

“It’s nothing,” you hum, combing your fingers through his hair and pressing a kiss to his slightly scratchy jaw. His stubble was growing out ever so slightly and began to cast a light shadow across the lower half of his handsome face.

“Can’t be nothing,” he protests, delivering a loving nuzzle into the crown of your hair, “are you falling for me?~ Tell me the truth, beautiful girl,” he’s as playful as ever, an expert in heating up your cheeks for his own entertainment, “I know you’re shy but you’re also very honest, hmm?” you don’t respond and keep your focus trained on the rose tattoo creeping up his neck, with its expertly shaded thorns and petals. “I might just give you a reward if you’re honest with me,”

With a small smile, you peek up at him from beneath your lashes. The shadows they cast over your vision distract from the obvious pink hue exploding across his cheeks as soon as he catches your gaze, god! Could you get any more beautiful? You need to stop looking at him like that but also, please keep looking at him and never look away again! “I’ve already fallen for you, Sirius Black,”

Sirius’ jaw goes slack as his playful demeanour collapses under you. The prettiest smile he’s ever seen stretches across your plump lips, so kissable and laced with a shy playfulness he’s fallen in love with.

You drive him absolutely mad…

… and he loves it!

James adores scooping you up into his arms. Not only is your resounding squeal the most adorable thing he’s ever heard but he just cherishes the feel of you tucked up in his embrace. For the first time, he fully understands the expression of describing one’s significant other as their whole world. Because when he has you giggling in his arms, clinging to his neck and nuzzling your face into the space under his jaw, James feels as though he’s got the entire world in his arms – he can accomplish anything and everything he sets his mind to. With you in his arms, he’s invincible; there’s a power that surges through him, a little like adrenaline but not quite so. It’s more powerful. He doesn't know what it is or how exactly to articulate its distinctions but he feels its fullness and capabilities like no other. He is the ruler of an empire, a conqueror with his perfect queen ruling beside him.

He is the leading character of a poignant Shakespearean play with you as his equally established partner. He is one half of a star and you are the other. Each is a ridiculous example but each also feels so fitting.

Of course… Only you could have ignited such an unfounded emotion within him.

“You feel it too, right Moony?” James whispers whilst he and the tall body piercer observe your happy movements gracefully puttering about their upstairs office, organising stacks of paperwork for them.

“Love?” Remus asks. It should be the obvious answer – you’re the protagonist of their conversation after all – but astute to James’ unique expressions for the natural and mundane, the brunette knows it’s going to be one of those times when James strongly feels a certain way and finds it hard to put into words. It makes Remus smile knowing that it’s about you – it’s surely something he can sympathise with James on.

“I guess but… it's different, somehow,” he doesn’t quite know how to articulate it, he just feels it. In his chest, in his fingertips, in his throat, in his stomach, even in his toes – he feels it everywhere. How could he not? Just looking at you, James can already justify that what he was feeling was perfectly admissible, whether he could put it into words or not. What he feels is true, it’s real and it gets stronger (almost achingly so) whenever he looks at you. The apple of his eye… never had an expression fit so well.

“I understand,” Remus voices after a deep, rumbling hum. His gaze soon turns to the tattoo artist beside him, fond eyes softening and stepping much closer to him, “I feel it too — for her and you, and Sirius,”

“That’s a given,” James grins boyishly up at his best friend and precious lover before he’s pulled into a loving kiss.

Tucking your chin a little over your shoulder, you glimpse the inviting image of your two lovers locking lips. It was heartening to see that their love for one another hadn’t changed because of your recent entanglement with them too. There was always a little corner of worry in your heart for potentially breaking their bond due to your interference.

The last time you let that same emotion control you, the aftereffects were explosive and unnecessarily wounding to all parties so you keep the emotion in check often, the boys too. But there was no complete dismissal of it. As much as you adore the boys and their love for you, you also adore their love for each other. It was incredibly inspiring to see what they had built together. Their parlour, their love, their quaint, shared flat.

But now, you also had the privilege of seeing them share more intimate acts of love and it was leading to a bad habit, a bad staring habit. So much so that you didn’t notice the two breaking away from each other until their devious smirks were solely directed at you.

“Care to join us, my dear?” Remus calls his voice like a hypnotising whisper, pulling invisible strings to shift your feet forward and lure you in. In no time at all, you’re close enough for the two to lock you between their strong, tattooed arms and finally launch their attack. You’re not complaining.

You’re so grateful to be able to join in their love and be with them like this. And you’re curious about what the four of you would end up building together one day. Rather than a small flat, maybe a house? A family? With kids? Fur-babies? A cat or dog? Maybe both? Regardless, one promise was absolutely certain: a happy life that’s bursting at the seams with love – it was a very compelling thought.

Finally winding down for the night, you separate from the boys and remain tucked away in their neatly prepared spare bedroom. James and Sirius were proud to announce that they had tidied the place up for you; Remus would have contributed as well if it weren’t for him being the main man who handled the paperwork for the parlour.

You thanked the two for their thoughtfulness with a kiss but also kissed Remus for his hard work in ‘keeping their business alive’. It was a cheeky remark but one that got an adorable pout from James and Sirius along with a well-humoured laugh from the tall brunette himself. There was a love in his eyes that made you weak in the knees, his chocolate pools staring down at you, threatening to drown you in their warmth, his fingers ghosting the skin of your chin and ever so gently tilting your face to admire your features better. He moved as if he were propping up a delicate art piece, not wanting to press too harshly but enough to warrant a sensitive and lingering touch.

“You spoil us,” he utters as a heat blooms across your cheeks and a small peep pushes past your lips. Mistaking your incoherent squeak for verbal thought, Remus bends down at the waist with curious and furrowed brows, “What was that, my dear?” James and Sirius lightly snicker to themselves from the interaction. You would have scolded them for their childish behaviour if Remus didn’t have you melting into a puddle from doing absolutely nothing!

“I-It’s nothing, Rem,” thankfully, he didn’t need much convincing. Having him that close was intimidating – you just can’t believe that this beautiful, soft-spoken, loving and gentle giant of a man is yours.

The boys had allowed you to use the bathroom first and followed after you for their night routine. From where you sat at the vanity, you often catch yourself smiling and sometimes even giggling when you hear their antics echoing through the hallway. It was all very amusing and you had to bite your lip when thoughts of normalising this scenario into a nightly routine materialised in your head. It was still early on in your otherwise unconventional relationship and you didn’t want to risk anything. An eagerness for more was healthy but over-eagerness wouldn’t be worth potentially commencing an accelerated rate of negative interactions.

Going through your nightly skincare, you hum a soft tune to yourself. It felt like you were at your own flat, getting ready for bed as if it was any other night and the familiarity was surprising. You didn’t feel out of place at all despite the new environment. Although, you wouldn't expect anything less from your boys. They really knew how to make you feel welcome. At least you know that you’ll be sleeping restfully tonight.

“Almost ready for bed, Angel?” James’ sudden appearance in the doorway makes you tense before playfully pouting at him, especially when he has the gall to giggle at your startled reaction, “Awww~ don’t be like that, love~” he coos, walking up to stand behind your seated form. He, too, bends at the waist to kiss behind your ear and trail loving pecks down your neck to the slopes of your shoulder.

“My night routine is meant to be relaxing, Jamie,” you huff but he can hear the smile in your voice and looks up with his beautiful eyes, meeting your gaze in the vanity mirror. Slowly, he pulls his lips away from your exposed shoulder.

With a devilish smirk, he brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “I can help you with that…” You feel his feathery touch tracing the curves of your waist, coming up from your hips, “Relaxing, I mean~”

“James!”

He throws his head back with a laugh that makes his shoulders shake and his pretty curls bounce ever so slightly. He’s risen to his full height now and resists the urge to caress the skin of your cheek, respectful of your freshly applied skincare — he’s had to put up with Sirius’ grumbles and whines after mistakenly kissing his still dewy, moisturised cheek on previous nights. And James wouldn’t want to ruin your first night here like that. He’s no amateur. Instead, James concedes to caressing your hair and placing a loving kiss onto your crown. He loves the combined smell of your hair products and natural scent. It’s solely you; a fragrance that could never be contained in a bottle, which is, both, a pity and a relief. A pity that he can’t carry a small bottle around whenever he’s missing you horribly bad. But a relief that something so intimate about you couldn’t be shared beyond him, Sirius and Remus. James would rather set the world ablaze before that ever came to fruition.

“Alright, my love, I’ll leave you be…” you begin to sigh in relief until, “-for now~”

“James!” you giggle sweetly, and he joins you not too long after, “You’re such a pest!”

He cackles adorably as he walks back to the door, making his exit swift and injury-free – he, just barely, evades your swatting hands. The two of you gradually allow your shared merriment to fade into a comfortable silence. You return to completing your skincare routine while James remains at the doorway.

From afar, the tattooist quietly admires your figure, elegant and so… so girly as you go through your nightly regime. It wasn’t a bad thing seeing your femininity shine through was refreshing. Sure, Sirius partook in the same self-care religiously, at the start of every day and the beginning of every night but you, with your cosy pyjamas, fuzzy slippers, panda ears headband and prettily laid out products, have James bewitched; entranced in the most blissful way. He likes seeing and observing you like this. So comfortable that there isn’t a single change in your routine; so comfortable that you’re humming to yourself; so comfortable that you look like you belong here. Truthfully, he’s wanted to ask you to move in for quite some time now but understands the importance of going at a steady pace and one that everyone agrees on.

You all finally have each other to call your own, that’s what truly mattered at the end of the day. So he holds himself back.

The routine you have is quite thorough so you’re not one to exclude your neck area or chest. As you adjust your clothes to prep your neck and chest area, James glimpses more and more of your skin each time. Naturally, his cheeks colour a soft pink while his thoughts are gradually consumed by all the things he wants to do to you — bending you over every piece of furniture in the flat, not discounting the walls or the carpeted floor, even atop and inside his beloved car. Every hot and crude detail is uncensored, the images that flash in his head are dangerously explicit and encompass you wholely. Your pleasure is his top priority. He’ll have you moaning in his ear, panting for breath as he goes faster, harder, whatever you want, as long as you keep singing for him. Singing until you’re screaming and reaching your peak over and over and over—

“The door locks, y’know,” James mentions casually, not surprising you as much this time. Although his random comment does make you raise a brow.

“Oh?” you apply your berry-flavoured lip mask and smile at him through the mirror with a hint of curiosity, “Okay, thank you for telling me, Jamie,” it still wasn’t clear to you what he was trying to get at with his casual but warning remark.

“Are you going to lock it for the night?” his question makes you stop for a moment, what was he trying to say? “I think you should lock it, angel… you don’t want any surprise visitors — it’s hard resisting you this long,” he had a teasing smile on his lips but there was a dark look in his eyes that made you shudder. That’s what he meant…

“A-alright,”

He pauses, appearing to contemplate something as he leans forward but ultimately decides against his earlier intentions and straightens his posture accordingly, “that’s my good girl,” you watch his sly smirk disappear from the vanity mirror. It takes you a few moments longer to return to your skincare routine.

Sirius smirks at you with an amused glint in his eye, “do you want to sit on it?” he asks, his big hand gently patting the seat of his bike. Being able to see right through you and read your inner thoughts was one of Sirius’ many talents. It amazed you but also made your cheeks flush in embarrassment. Were you really that transparent and readable? To Sirius, you were, but that’s only because he’s grown to have a keen eye for you and your little quirks; he finds them adorable and adores being able to read your thoughts, so that he knows he’s catering to you well.

Your hesitation is obvious. It’s not like you haven’t ridden on his motorbike before; you’ve ridden on it plenty of times. However, it was usually with you seated behind Sirius. For a while, you contemplated whether or not it would feel different to be the actual biker. You didn’t know how to ride a motorbike so you were secretly hoping that Sirius would allow you to hop on after he did his routine motorbike maintenance. It was common to do these checks and services every 6 months, but because Sirius used his motorbike so often, he tracked the regular services based on the miles he covered. He’s already crossed 4000 miles so his bike was due for some maintenance already.

“Are you sure?” you ask in a voice that’s so soft and sweet, Sirius can’t help but temper his smirk into a warm smile.

“It’s safe, sweetheart, and I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t okay with it,” the bright grin you gifted him made Sirius question why he hadn’t thought to make such an offer sooner. It was clear that you were interested in his bike but he didn’t know whether or not he was deciphering your intentions correctly, until now. With a skip in your step, you make your way over as Sirius chuckles to himself.

You’re just too cute~

“Thank you, Siri,” you reach up to cup his jaw and gently guide him down to press a loving kiss against his cheek.

“Anything for you, Doll,” he kisses your cheek as well, just before you get the chance to pull too far away from him. Sirius then guides you onto his motorbike, offering to stabilise you with his hands on your hips as you get settled on the seat. With his strength alone, he takes the bike off his kickstand and straightens it from the back so that you can experience what it’s really like without the bike being slanted to the side. The tattooist is much taller than you and so you aren’t able to fully flatfoot your feet, instead your toes barely brush the ground. Seeing that you’re able to just swing your feet back and forth, a quiet giggle escapes you – music to Sirius’ ears.

“This is fun!” you cheer softly, still quite shy as you glance over your shoulder with a flutter of your lashes, meeting eyes with the inked-up biker, who was grinning brightly at you. His strong arms are on full display, tattoos and all, as he holds the bike straight and steady from behind. He’s dressed in a simple black tank top and loose grey joggers. It’s a style that James often wears around their flat but you’re not surprised that Sirius was able to pull off the look too. With a face like his, you can easily determine that he’d suit any style he tries on.

“Why don’t you try pretending you’re actually riding it by grabbing onto the handles,” he encourages, excited. Having James, Remus and you as his loves were heaven on earth, but being able to share one of his favourite hobbies and his beloved motorbike fostered a different kind of haven in his heart. It’s overflowing and shows easily in his voice.

“Okay!” eagerly, you lean forward to grasp onto the handles and, with a feverish buzz, pretend you’re actually riding the bike out on the road. From backpacking behind Sirius so often, imagining the shift in positions and being the actual biker was quite easy. What a thrill! No wonder Sirius makes up any excuse to be out on his bike.

Yes, you’re still stationary but it’s just too easy to imagine everything, from the wind in your hair to the adrenaline pumping through your veins, encouraged by the rapidly passing views on either side of you. A view of the seaside at sunset is very appealing but winding country roads also offer great scenery. You can hear your heartbeat rising to match your vision and you have to bite your lip to contain an elated laugh. There’s no need to embarrass yourself even more, especially with Sirius behind you.

So stuck in your pretending, you miss Sirius’ partially restrained groan of frustration from behind your leant-over figure, “Fuck. Me…” he has the perfect view of your ass. And when you’re bent over his bike like this, his joggers tighten up around his crotch alarmingly fast. Never mind that the joggers were already very loose-fitting, he can’t help himself when you’re offering him such a spectacular view. And to have it be on top of his motorbike too…

The things you do to him… the things he would do to you.

Suppressing another groan, Sirius hurries to free his kickstand and lean his bike over before you realise what’s happening. It takes a lot of strength and agility but his focus has narrowly concentrated on you and nothing was going to get in his way. He has to resist going all the way – for now – but that doesn’t mean resigning himself to zero contact at all.

“Siri–?!” you squeal in surprise when he lifts you off his bike and positions you in a way that forces your legs to wrap around his hips from fear of falling, while his arms circle your hips, “what’s this all about?” you give an adorable tilt of your head as you look down at him, perched a little higher on his torso so that your hands could place themselves on his sturdy shoulders while his arm provides a sort of seat for you underneath.

“I’ll show you what this is about,” his voice is several octaves lower, barely recognisable from where they resonate at the far back of his throat. His big hands grab the globes of your ass and lower you down from your upper perch so that he grinds your covered pussy lips against his erect cock. Even through the fabric of his joggers, the sheer size of him is obvious and it’s mortifying how wet you get. He keeps you pressed against him as he swallows your shocked gasp, prying your lips apart with his tongue so he can explore your sweet mouth.

“...you can’t be showing your perfect ass like that – so pretty on top of my bike – without facing the consequences, dollface,”

“But!” you manage to protest between his eager lips, “but you said–!”

“I know what I said,” he bites at your lower lips and grinds against you, “I guess we’re both at fault that I’m like this right now, huh, baby?” he pulls away to suck and nibble on your neck, loving the moans he draws from you, “Nothing a little loving can’t fix, right?”

He won’t go too far… just a little grinding here and there while he devours your pretty little mouth. That’s all he’s asking for. And, being the lovely, kind princess that you are, of course, you oblige him.

“A-alright…” you conceded, finally trying to match his level of eagerness when his lips connected with yours once more.

“That’s my girl~”

The initial week everything came to a head, where all was revealed and you ended up spending the night at the boys’ flat, only for disaster to hit in the form of your period the next day was weeks behind you now. You're surprised that a week after that – when you had finally gotten off your dreaded period – Remus didn’t pounce on you. Nor did James. Or Sirius. Now an entire month has passed and still nothing. James and Sirius have been more impassioned than Remus but it appears as though they’re more united than ever on the simple fact of ‘going easy’ on you.

The tall brunette insinuated such provocative things that night. Thinking back to that moment makes butterflies explode in your stomach, all while a ravenous heat spreads chaotically throughout your body. That same heat then stubbornly settles between your legs and in your lower belly. You’re ashamed to admit that you were really looking forward to what Remus planned on doing to you…

But now he’s being the perfect gentleman again and you don’t know what to do!

You love how gentlemanly he is, kissing you sweetly on the cheek, whispering loving, poetic words only for you to hear, listening to anything and everything you wanted to say with the utmost attention and interest, pulling doors open for you, doing little favours that made your days go by smoother and so much more. It felt incredibly unreasonable to complain when there was nothing to complain about! Though… were you really complaining? If you think about it, all you would be doing is expressing your opinion and providing some constructive criticism for what you want out of the relationship – there’s nothing wrong with that, is there?

When you officially became theirs and them, yours, it was established and emphasised heavily by Remus, himself, that communication was key to having a successful and loving relationship. If something was wrong, you could go to them without any hesitation; they promised to never disregard your worries or dismiss them apathetically. And you made the same promise to them, in return. If they were ever feeling insecure about something in the relationship then they could communicate any concerns they have to you without feeling an ounce of fear. By verbalising your, somewhat, embarrassing internal torment, you’d be keeping your promise and prioritising communication — just like you all promised each other!

So you have nothing to worry about…

It’s just a little hard to verbalise that’s all…

…maybe you should wait until after dinner tonight? Remus looks a little busy right now…

“Don’t look at me with those eyes, pretty girl,” Remus’ low, bordering seductive, voice tenses your nerves, pulling a lazy chuckle from the back of his throat at the adorable sight of your surprise, “you’re distracting me,” he emphasises his statement with the tap of his pen onto the papers laid out before him. Despite his comment, however, he doesn’t sound angry and he’s not frowning either. Instead, Remus has his chin in the palm of his hand and tilts his head at you, smiling fondly at your visage.

“You look like you don’t mind it,” you shot back, voice shy but quippy, parallel to the defiant folding of your arms.

Remus throws his head back with a laugh before shaking his head at you. His smile widens and he bites his lower lip to force it down just a little bit. As you put on a playful pout, your earlier thoughts slipping from your mind, the tattooed body piercer rolls over to you on his wheeled office chair.

Reaching you in a few long strides, knee to knee, he disregards your sassy comment and simply asks, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

A heat crawls up your neck and settles on the apples of your cheeks as your earlier contemplations return. It’s a little hard to muster up your courage to speak right now. And, conveniently, the carpeted floors look very interesting all of a sudden.

“I-It was nothing,” you unfold your arms and fidget with the hem of your pleated skirt; your gaze still fixed onto the office’s dark grey carpet.

He quirks a brow but doesn’t say anything despite the question evident in his chocolate-brown eyes. His gaze holds onto your own, the small smile on his lips calming your earlier taut nerves. In your peripheral, Remus slides his fingertips over the skin of your thighs, his movement careful and feathery until he hears you suck in a sharp breath. As soon as your eyes widen, shocked by his unexpected touch and you release a sharp gasp, Remus throws all care out the window. He proceeds to slide his grip under your thighs and, hoists you up and over to sit on his lap. Thankfully his office chair doesn’t have any armrests so he’s able to comfortably seat you there, pretty as can be.

“You’re sure you can’t tell me?” he asks in a murmur, muffled by the skin of your temple as he presses a soft kiss there.

“It’s really nothing!” you squeak, avoiding his eyes and missing his fond smile as he watches you fumbling with your hands. He keeps you perfectly seated on his lap from where he firmly grips your outer thighs. Your skin is so soft and smooth with the perfect amount of fluff, to fill it in – he loves all of you but if he had to choose, he’d say your thighs were his favourite feature.

“You can be honest with me,” you don’t answer, tucking your flustered face into the crook of his neck instead. Fondly, he begins to caress the back of your head with one hand, the other still on your thigh. He lowers his voice into a quiet murmur so only you can hear, “Why don’t you whisper it to me instead?”

Funnily enough, his suggestion, no matter how simple, was convincing. It was meant for his ears only and you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing your inner thoughts out loud. Also, the idea of whispering your carnal contemplations felt… safer somehow. Intimate too but you ran with it, your thoughts begging to be released.

Leaning up, you place one hand on his broad chest, the other on his shoulder so as to position your lips beside his ear with enough stability, “I was just thinking about…umm,”

“Hmm?...” you feel his thumbs caressing the skin of your thighs — a comforting gesture that you feel embarrassed for being unsuited to your pending admission.

“About you…”

Something flashes in his eyes, “...What about me, my love?” he hopes to god he hasn’t upset you.

You pause to muster up enough courage, “...about what you said you would do to me that night…” Hopefully, he knows what you’re referring to because you don’t think you’ll be able to articulate his exact words or the entire situation properly. You’re already far too sheepish.

Holding your breath, you wait for some sort of reaction, maybe a spoken word? Something… But Remus’ lips are sealed shut and there’s only silence. Your heart hammers in your ears as you slowly pull away from the safety of your lover’s neck and peek up to gauge his reaction, only to find that his face shows no emotion at all. You’re tempted to whisper his name, a soft prompt and an indirect request for some sort of answer when he’s suddenly pulling you into a deep kiss. One hand cups your jaw as the other explores your curves. His movement and the feeling he imbues in the kiss – all of it points to an impatience and a vicious need, the need to have you in every way possible.

Remus explores the lines of your shape but makes a small sound of displeasure when his hands are unable to sneak up the AC/DC graphic shirt you stole from Sirius as it’s tucked into your pleated skirt. Quickly, he moves his large hands back to your exposed thighs. You hold your breath as you feel his warm touch move up your warm skin, far enough to sneak past the hem of your pleated skirt.

“Please…” Remus relishes in the moan that parts your delicious, bruised lips, “I can take it! Please please please,” you gasp and pant, your shaking voice emphasising your desperation for more. You’ve waited so long, you’ve been so patient, you’re ready for this! The feel of his lips against your skin is addictive but your addiction is insatiable from that alone and you beg for more.

“Are you sure about that?” Remus’ lips make it to the shell of your ear, where his husky voice whispers as he grabs at your ass. With his hands full of you, he pulls you in to grind his bulging hardness against your puffy, lower lips and dampening panties. He relishes in the moans that you can’t contain behind trembling, kiss-bitten lips and smirks when he hears the click of the office door opening.

“She’s ready for us then?” James asks, the smirk on his lips obvious through the smug tone of his voice.

“It’s about damn time,”

Remus smiles as you tuck your flustered face into the crook of his neck and gives your ass a reassuring squeeze beneath your skirt, “Tonight, sweetheart,”

You pout at his remark and pull away with a huff, “No!” you protest defiantly, “Now!” You’re tired of waiting! And what’s the use of their upstairs, private office space if you can’t do private things in it?

“Don’t be a brat, dove,” Remus warns, the usual warmth leaving his eyes as Sirius and James step into the room and close the door behind them but don’t step an inch closer.

“But I’ve waited so long, please Rem, I promise I can take it—” you squeal loudly when a harsh slap hits your ass. So caught up in your needs, you completely missed how Remus used one hand to lift your skirt while his other prepared to deliver penance.

“Rem–!” ignoring your whining, he sits down to bend you over his lap and continues beating your ass despite your shrieks of pain. It wasn’t until you were a whimpering tearful mess that Remus finally relented, his big hand returning to their gentle touches as he comfortingly palms your sore ass. He’s sorry. But you were being a brat.

“Brats don’t deserve to get what they want, even if they say please, do I make myself clear?”

Unable to vocalise properly through your tears and pitiful whimpers, you simply nod your head but squealed when Remus cupped your tender asscheek and gave it a firm squeeze of displeasure, “Y-yes sir,”

“Good girl,” Remus hums softly,

NAVI. | SERIES M.LIST | NEXT : 09 | THE NIGHT... →

A/N : next chapter will be where everything goes down my loves! i hope you're prepared and i'm sorry for making you all wait this long; what can i say? i love a good slow burn smut hehe~

again, i'd like to remind everyone that i have discontinued all my taglists but made a side account for you to follow so you can be notified whenever i post something new, just turn on notifications @thekqipond

please like, comment and reblog to show your support, i'd really appreciate it! property of kquil ; all written content is mine and no one else's unless stated otherwise ; do not steal, plagiarise, modify or translate to other sites

[httpsserene]

Speaking of Mr. Daniel, we all know that he injured himself a while ago. How about the reader faking an orgasm because she doesn’t want to tire or injure him? Daniel frowns immediately upon noticing, but the nurse kicks you out because it’s past hours, and he's longing for the reader. He tries to grab the reader to come back but winces in pain, proving the reader's point. Your pleasure is extremely important to him so he’ll stop functioning if you said otherwise.

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊'𝖘 2𝕶 𝕾𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 | 𝕿𝖍𝖊 𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖊𝖑 𝕽𝖎𝖈𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖗𝖉𝖔 𝕰𝖉𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

𝐄𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐆𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐆𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩, 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐬

Summary: When Daniel isn’t feeling well, it’s no hardship for her to take of him. Except this time, he broke his hand and is proceeding to be an absolute nightmare to take care of. They haven’t had sex since before the accident in Zandvoort because she’s afraid that somehow she’ll end up aggravating his injury. Daniel, however, has convinced himself that he only exists to bring her pleasure. So, she comes up with a plan to soothe his service dom tendencies. Enter, Operation Fake Orgasm. How hard can it be? Spoiler alert: she’s a terrible actress. Pairing: daniel ricciardo x fem!black-coded!reader(her skintone isn't referenced but she has braids.) Content Warning: 18+ only. mdni. explicit sexual content. orgasm/delay denial. hurt/comfort. caretaking. servicedom!daniel. discussion of pain medication, injuries, and hospitals. dom/sub undertones. sub/shy!reader. praise kink mentioned. sensual beard shaving (it's hot). wet dreams. somnophilia. safe, sane, and consensual. oral sex (m and f receiving). vaginal sex. fake orgasm. mentioned multiple orgasms. Word Count: 3.6k words

Author's Notes: if the tags scare you, i promise it's not that bad!

secondly, thank you for the patience concerning the delay. my sister is doing a lot better now! she had an allergic reaction to pollen; she inhaled so much that her lungs freaked the fuck out on her, and i was in the hospital from 9am-9pm all day. finally got back home so i'm posting it, way late, but at least it's on the same day.

to make up for it, even though my lil sis was nearly taken out by the environment (i'm joking i love her i'm just being a big sister rn), i am releasing episode four on friday! and episode five on either tuesday or wednesday next week!

i hope you all like this episode xxx

prev 2k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

The sound of bedsheets ruffling contrasts with the monotonous beeps of the heart monitor filling the sterile hospital room; the noise is more than enough to have you snapping your head away from your phone to look at your boyfriend. Daniel’s awake and he meets your eyes with a soft groan. You coo at him softly, squeezing his hand gently as he reorients himself.

“What time ‘st?” Daniel croaks out. You cringe at the sound of his dry speech and quickly hand him the glass of water resting at his bedside.

“It’s getting late, baby,” you hum, not failing to notice the slight wince he does when his cast knocks against the bed rail, “I sent Michael back to the hotel not too long ago, around 7. Charles, Lando, Max, and Oscar came and kept me company while you were in surgery. Oscar, I think, was pretty shaken up still—to me, I could tell he felt a little guilty that you’re here with a broken hand and he’s as right rain—so, maybe when you’re more clear-headed you can reach out to him. Yuki and Michael were here the first time you woke up. Still, you were so high on your pain medication cocktail, that I think you were hearing colors and seeing sounds,” you break from your ramble, suddenly standing and reaching over the bed to press the call button, remembering the nurse told you to alert her as soon as he woke again.

“Yes?” Daniel offers, unsure of how to respond to the edge in your tone, “I’m feeling better by the way—.”

A hysterical giggle slips from your lips, and you can see the regret wash over his face when you meet his eyes with a crazed look, “Forgive me, for not asking how you were feeling right away Daniel. It’s almost like, my brain isn’t working properly because I’m fucking worried about you. Yeah? I watched you crash into the barriers, and I heard you in pain—I called everyone on your team to get updates and nobody answered! So, I got on the next flight to Zandvoort after Michael finally texted me with updates, with no luggage, just my phone and a change of clothes—so forgive me, for not checking in on you right away, after you didn’t call me once,” you blink rapidly and Daniel softens, clearly it was a terrible time to deflect with humor, he just hates to see you worry about him, that’s why he avoided calling. He’s usually the one taking care of you.

“A-are you feeling better, though?” you ask shakily, deflating quickly at the sight of his warm brown eyes, “You’re going to set off every metal detector for the foreseeable future.”

“It’s like a 6 out 10 on the pain scale—”

“That’s what I’m here for,” the nurse interrupts in accented English, smiling at the two of you briefly before she moves to Daniel’s side and catching him up on the outcome of the surgery and discussing pain medication. 

“Visiting hours ended an hour ago,” the nurse speaks to you directly, “Did nobody come to escort you out?”

You shake your head in surprise, the time on your phone reads 9 PM—you have no recollection of time passing that quickly since Michael left. Gathering your few belongings, you lean down to kiss Daniel gently, “Be good for the doctors and nurses, Danny. I’ll be back in the morning, okay?”

“No, what—she can’t stay?” Daniel begs the nurse, and she frowns at him apologetically.

Ruffling his hair, you continue, “It’s not her fault—she’s just doing her job. And, we’re besties now,” Daniel stares at you confused, “She’s been coming to check up on me the entire time you decided to cosplay Sleeping Beauty so if you decide to be difficult overnight, she will not hesitate to snitch on you to me. Understand?”

Daniel swallows before nodding jerkily, “Can I have another kiss?”

It’s an easy ask for you to fulfill; but as your lips barely brush his, Daniel hisses out in pain. He tried to use his left hand to pull you closer to him, obviously aggravating the injury. You exclaim worriedly and he tries to pretend that the flare of pain wasn’t that severe. But, as the nurse reassures you that the pain meds will kick in and he’ll go right to sleep, you’ve already decided: that hand will never be in a situation that causes Daniel unnecessary pain again. 

You tell Daniel that same sentence on the flight back to Monaco. He assumed that meant you’d force him to wear a sling or have it constantly cushioned and elevated (which you did anyway). However, he should’ve asked you to elaborate because he was completely blindsided to learn that you really meant all situations. 

You may have gone overboard the first week. You’re well aware that his hand is the only broken thing on his body, but you pamper him as if he’s bedridden with the most severe flu seen in the last century. You cook and order him hearty meals, you have alarms set for when he needs to take his medication, you shower with him to make sure he doesn’t wet his cast—where nothing sexual happens, you killed the vibe the first time he insinuated shower sex in conversation, mentioning the statistics of shower-related deaths—you quickly fulfill all of his requests, even if it’s sitting through a movie you find tasteless; yet, you refuse to fulfill one: sex. 

The doctor pulled you aside while Daniel was getting dressed to be discharged and told you to make sure he’s very careful with his arm, slow and controlled movements only, nothing abrupt. 

And, if there’s one word to describe Daniel during sex, it would probably be abrupt. 

He can’t keep his hands off of you when he’s uninjured. From your first time with Daniel, he showed and proved just how much your pleasure is important to him—he made sure that you understood that he lives and breathes to make you satisfied. But, you also know that he’d ignore his pain if it meant he was making you feel good; and, that’s not something you can risk, not with an injury that could affect his career if it doesn’t heal properly. 

You’ve reiterated that to him multiple times when Daniel tries to deepen kisses, hoping you’ll forget about your stupid sex ban and let him make you feel good. He’s not used to going this long without making sure you’re sexually satisfied. You don’t even allow him to guide you through masturbation, because you know you won’t be satisfied with it even if you get off—it’ll only lead to you falling into his lap begging for more. 

On the eighth day, you’re sitting in Daniel’s lap on the couch, rubbing ointment into the bruises left by the seatbelts of the car. You thought he was focused on watching the entire Dutch Grand Prix he missed out on, not thinking much of how he’s toying with the length of your braids with his uninjured hand. 

You think nothing of the soft sighs, moans, and groans he’s letting out of his mouth as you lightly massage him. All of these noises are common reactions to a sensation that feels good. It sucks that they happen to sound very similar to the moans Daniel makes when he initially fucks into you. You’re just a girl with needs that Daniel never fails to take care of; you’re not used to this, for the same reason Daniel can’t understand why you won’t let him get you off. 

Then, Daniel gasps out a soft ‘fuck’ that has no reason to be sounding that lustful and you start to squirm in his lap. You mindlessly continue to massage him, not exactly proud of the way you continue to strain your ears to hear his noises—and on one particular shift of your hips, you brush across his hard-on that wasn’t there a few minutes ago, and automatically fly off his lap.

In the frantic movement, Daniel tried to use both of his hands to keep you in his lap, irritating his broken hand. You flutter around him worriedly, your words a mix of chastising and displeasure. You don’t hesitate to say that this is exactly why the sex ban is in place (Daniel pleaded that it was a fluke, but you’re not eager to put that to the test).

Three days pass before Daniel deems you relaxed enough to have another attempt at seducing you into an orgasm or two. He approached you in the evening after you had watched him like a hawk as he took his pain medication. He wants you to shave his beard. It’s grown out some since he hasn’t shaved in a week or so. You’re not a professional beard shaver or anything, but you can imagine it’s difficult to shave your face with one hand. And of course, you’d jump at any opportunity to help out your boyfriend and allow him to relax and look pretty. After an unnecessarily long tutorial, Daniel pretends to have 100% faith in your skills and lets you take the first swipe across his cheek. You painstakingly use slow movements and light pressure, not forgetting to pull his skin tight with your other hand and clean the razor off with every stroke. You feel him tense underneath you as you ready to attempt shaving along his jawline. 

Pulling back at the last second, you make to smack his shoulder before hesitating and pinching him instead (it’s his left arm, you don’t want to jostle his cast resting on the bathroom vanity), ignoring his yelp you nag him, “Well, don’t act like I’m about to gouge your throat out or anything! I can feel you freeze up underneath me—it’s not like I want to cut you. I already have to stare at your ugly face every day, I don’t want to make it worse.”

Daniel pretends to be offended at your attack and the two of you bicker back and forth before settling down. The fake roast session calmed Daniel enough that when you brought the razor to his jaw, he remained relaxed. 

You smoothly shave the small area of skin and turn to clean the razor when Daniel speaks softly, “You’re so good,” a slight pause follows, “at this.” 

The praise tingles down your spine and you think nothing of it. Except, it continues. With nearly every swipe along his jaw, he continues to murmur praise with lidded eyes and an alluring tone. Whispers along the lines of ‘good girl,’ ‘just like that,’ ‘you’re so sweet to me,’ and paired with his stare dancing across your face, you dread the moment you finish shaving him. As your razor ventures down his throat, the air grows thick with intimacy. It’s the result of your boyfriend trusting you to repeatedly brush a blade along his throat and your unfortunate kink for praise and acts of service. With the last brush of the razor, you gently set it down on the vanity, exchanging it for cloth you wet with hot water. Ringing it out thoroughly, you gently begin to wipe Daniel’s face avoiding eye contact. When you swipe around his lips, you get distracted by their flushed color, a result of when Daniel bit his lip to make the skin underneath taut for you to shave. His tongue slips out to wet them and you can’t help but smash your lips to his.

It feels euphoric. You’re kissing him frantically, moaning into his mouth without inhibition, and you can feel him laugh as he struggles to match your desperate pace. His hand squeezes at your waist, anchoring you yet furthering your desperation at the strong grip as you try to climb him like a tree, tugging at his hair, shirt, pants, anything you can reach. At this point, Daniel would’ve had a hand in your hair, tugging at your scalp sharply a couple of times to rein you in and move you to his rhythm. You’re a little lost at the missing sensation and you pull away to pout at Daniel like you always do when he spends too much time teasing you.

It takes one look at his blown pupils, smug smile, and heaving chest before it jogs your memory. You step backward quickly to put space between you guys, raising a hand when you see him open his mouth, knowing he’s only going to convince you to get naked for him.

“I’m going to bed,” you state with a pointed finger, “You, are going to get in the shower, with cold water, and think about what you did wrong. And! You will not wake me up for sex.”

Daniel’s face falls, and you can tell he expected you to break, “Wait—you don’t let me shower by myself, what if I fall?”

You turn and leave the room, “It would be divine intervention. Karma, for trying to get me to break my rule.”

Daniel doesn’t wake you when he slips into bed, but you lose the benefit of going to sleep early when you jolt awake before sunrise. Your mouth is dry and your panties are embarrassingly wet. You can’t recall a single detail of your dream. Still, your legs are trembling at whatever scenario your brain decided to torment you with. 

Fuck it. Or fuck him, literally.

That makes sense. You’re going to ride Daniel, it’s the perfect position to make sure he doesn’t move his arm. You work him up beforehand so hopefully he won’t last as long; Daniel has unparalleled stamina usually, but with you constantly denying him for a while…he may wind up quicker. As soon as he cums, you’ll fake yours as well—because he’s only pleased if you're satisfied, otherwise he’ll attempt a round two. It’s that easy, right? You turn on your side and stare at Daniel, his face relaxed as he sleeps. Your synapses start firing as the plan comes to life. The two of you have discussed somnophilia, more on you as the receiving party. Daniel, of course, offered himself to you on a silver platter—any taste of you using him to get off? That’s always going to be a yes from him. So, yes. It is that easy.

You pull the duvet down to the edge of the bed and quietly shift to hover over Daniel’s thighs, never more thankful that he decided to wear only briefs to bed. And that he’s already half-hard; you’re extremely happy that the two of you don’t have a hand on how creative your dreams can get. He doesn’t shift when you pull his cock from underneath his briefs, carefully dragging them

down just enough to not be a bother. He stays under as you get him hard, it only takes a few strokes and some teasing along a vein on the underside. You rise slightly, sucking on two of your fingers before bringing them to rest along your entrance. It’s an annoying experience, you can’t remember the last time you had to stretch yourself out—Daniel’s spoiled you. The feeling of your fingers inside of you is underwhelming, the slight tinge of pleasure would be multiplied if it were him instead but; this is not for you. You are simply performing tonight.

You slide your fingers out and decide on getting Daniel as close to the edge as you can before he wakes up. You lean down to mouth at the head of his cock, knowing it’s incredibly sensitive and the sensation pushes him to the edge quicker than anything else. It can’t be more than a couple of strained minutes—your eyes and ears peeled to make sure you don’t miss any signs of Daniel starting to awaken. Thankfully, you feel him start to pulse along your tongue, a sure sign that he’s getting there.

You pull off, taking a second to breathe as you rest your head on his hip. With one last reassuring exhale, you move to straddle him, one hand underneath you to guide his length to your pussy. The second his head pops into you, you let out a pitiful whimper, eyelids fluttering shut, and your legs begin trembling again. Another realization hits you as you struggle to silently take all of Daniel.

You can’t recall a single time Daniel had forced you to be quiet. He’s always trying to make you scream his name. If he needs to hide your noises he muffles them with a hand over your mouth or his fingers in your mouth. Naturally, you use his tricks and do the same. With two of your fingers shoved in your mouth, you quiet your sounds as your ass meets your (somehow still) sleeping boyfriend's thighs. It feels like he’s in your throat; you know that no matter how long it takes you to make him cum, you’re going to be aching tomorrow. You begin to grind against him, whimpering softened around your digits. You slowly increase your rhythm up to a bounce, doing your best to squeeze around him—Daniel has mentioned before that he can’t resist cumming when you feel like you're trying to keep him inside of you and never let him pull out.

It must work because suddenly Daniel’s hips rock up into yours, and he’s awake with a singular breathy moan of, “Yes—oh, I thought I was still dreaming.”

You laugh airily, letting your spit-slicken fingers fall from your mouth and drop to press against your clit (you’re not actually, you’ve missed it by a mile but it’s all about convincing Daniel), avoiding meeting his eyes knowing Danny will assume it’s under the pretense of you being shy (once again, yes you are incredibly mortified, but you know he’ll be able to tell that you're faking this in a split second).

“H-how long,” Daniel moans out crackly, his abdomen contracting underneath you, “Have you been at this? ‘Gonna make me cum already.”

You nod frantically, moaning out loudly as if you’re on the edge as well. Daniel gets his feet planted and thrusts up into you forcefully enough that your moans turn real. Throwing your head back so he doesn’t see your face in case it gives you away, you continue to moan out exaggeratedly as you feel him cum inside you, pitching your voice and shuddering as if you released as well.

“What the fuck was that?” Daniel commands quietly.

You slump forward, sliding off his softening length and nuzzling into his neck to pretend like you didn’t hear him and to hide. He lets you avoid answering the first time he asks. He takes his good hand and fists his hand in the braids along the nape of your neck and tightens his grasp enough to get you to gasp.

“Mhm. When you cum, baby,” he starts softly, “That’s the quietest you ever get during sex. Usually, it’s because you choke on your breath, even though I remind you to breathe through it every time. You do this cute little thing where you try to slam your thighs shut around me, it doesn’t matter if it’s my hand, my head, or my hips, you try to crush me. It’s also one of the only times during sex when you make eye contact with me on your own, well depending on what position I have you in. I won’t repeat myself.”

You mumble into his chest fitfully before sitting up, “I didn’t want you to hurt your hand, okay? That’s all. During sex, you can never stop touching me and I was afraid that somehow you’d treat your hand a little too roughly and then, boom, you’ll never drive a Formula One car again—”

“Calm down, babe,” Daniel soothes you, bringing his right hand to massage your hip, “I think you’ve overdramatized my injury in your head a little bit. Firstly, I don’t even care if my hand suddenly fell off—genuinely, never deprive me of making you feel good. That hurts me more than my hand aches. Secondly, this entire time I didn’t even move my left hand off the bed. See?”

You look down at his hand and nod once. This entire time you enforced a needless sex ban when you could’ve been riding a high every day.

“Now, if you could be kind enough to let me restore my ego,” Daniel taps you on the ass so you rise to kneel over him, “C’mere and sit on my face.”

You hesitate, the thought of pretending to deny him crosses your mind, but you already shorted yourself of one orgasm tonight. That’s how you find yourself riding Daniel’s face, embarrassingly almost losing control of your legs at the first knock of his nose against your clit. Your boyfriend has mastered the skill of eating pussy and that’s why you feel no shame in just how quickly a few targeted thrusts of his tongue and the pressure of his nose have you shattering apart above him. And as Daniel said, you do choke on your breath as you climax, your legs tighten around his head as well—and you don’t have the strength to be humiliated at how he knows your body better than yourself.

Daniel guides you off his mouth and lays you down by his side only using the uninjured arm, and the care and strength behind that movement sends you shaking again through the aftershock and come down. 

Daniel coaxes you onto your back and nudges your legs open to slide in between them. He trails the fingers of his right hand across your fluttering folds, before spreading you open with two fingers, enamored at the way your relaxed entrance winks at him. 

“You can give me one or two more right? I think you need a reminder of how much I thrive off of making you feel good, pretty girl. Let’s see how many more I can get out of you before the sunrise.”

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© httpsserene 2023

[call-me-strega]

Fabulous, astounding, absolutely amazing, I love it!

Now combine it with the au where the Batfam thinks Jason is dating the Red Hood so now he’s trying to convince them he’s both, separate, parts of an Crime Boss x Assasin Cult Leader power couple.

He gets Cass to help him and back him and be his alibi on a few occasions. He has to make sure he hoodwinks them long enough to reveal it at a time that will provide ample drama and comedic effectiveness.

When Damian shows up they corner him before he can let anything slip and convince him to go along with it bc he’ll get to see how effective the fam’s detective skills are first hand.

AU where Jason comes back to Gotham and begins his plan to confront Batman and all that. Except after only like a week the Joker gets hit by a bus and then shot by a little old lady with a shotgun and dies.

Jason’s plan is now in shambles because the dramatic climax of his plan is no longer possible. But that’s fine. He’ll think of some other suitable alternative. Granted, it’s not quite the same if he uses some other villain. Making Batman choose doesn’t mean nearly as much when it’s not about the person who killed him.

And really, is he going to try and get Batman to kill Black Mask or something? Scarecrow? Red Hood is competent; he could do it himself so why bother.

So Jason lays low continues to build his criminal empire with astounding speed and efficiency. If only he could think of a good way to announce his return. Nothing he can think of is dramatic enough.

Meanwhile, the Bats are freaking out because who is this guy that’s taken over half of the Gotham underworld in like a month? He’s obviously trained, but they just can’t seem to get any information on who he is or where he came from. It is beyond frustrating.

After a few months Jason is frustrated that he just can’t seem to find any dramatic good way of making Batman prove himself. It has to be something big! Something magnificent!

During his weekly chat with Talia he complains about his problems and she suggests he come back for a visit. He argues that he can’t just leave, but she says if he has competent enough lieutenants it’d be fine. He spends the next three weeks making sure that everything will be fine if he leaves for a week. He will not have all of his hard work falling apart and going to waste due to incompetence. Absolutely not.

So then once his lieutenants are sufficiently prepared (and the rest of Gotham’s criminal element sufficiently cowed), he heads to Nanda Parbat, only to find Ra’s on the phone with Bruce, who is demanding to know if the Red Hood has any affiliation with the league.

Oh. Oh. He can give them affiliation.

A new plan begins to form.

He’s going to be the most affiliated he can be. Jason immediately goes to Talia with his newest plan: Overthrow Ra’s and takeover the league. Talia whips out her forty step outline for overthrowing Ra’s and tells Jason she’s so proud of him.

Jason has a new goal now, so he gets to work. He checks on things in Gotham, but everything seems to be fine and there haven’t been any unplanned explosions so it should be fine if he stays here for a bit.

Taking over Gotham really was good practice, as it turns out. Thanks to Talia’s plans and previous foundational efforts the takeover happens in no time.

Meanwhile the bats are still freaking out. Red Hood hasn’t been seen in three weeks, he may or may not have league of assassins connections, and even in his absence his goons seem to be managing things competently.

Back in Nanda Parbat, Jason and Talia finish their takeover. And now, finally, he’s ready to confront Batman.

He arrives in Gotham as the new head of the league. His arrival is loud, elaborate, and dramatic enough to fulfill his inner theater kid’s dreams.

Batman is speechless. And not his usual grunts instead of words, but actual surprised speechless. Jason is alive?!?!?!?

Jason was not expecting all the tears. And hugs. And mother henning. Goodness gracious, this was not part of the plan.

Bruce is obviously struggling with Jason’s revelation that he took over the league, but the newest little birdie seems almost relieved at that(?) and Dick and Alfred both seem strangely proud. Whatever. Even Bruce seems to be at least mostly ignoring that for now.

Then someone asks him if he knows Red Hood. Jason blinks. Says that yeah, he knows Red Hood. Everyone seems to ease at that. One mystery solved. Jason quickly realizes that most of them have no idea he is Red Hood. Cass seems to be the only exception but also appears amused and willing enough to not mention it.

Dramatic appearance complete, Jason now has a new goal: see how long he can keep the bats (minus Cass and potentially Alfred) in the dark about his crime boss identity.

He will bribe Cass as much as it takes to keep her on board with the causing chaos plan, but she seems eager enough. Favorite sibling status definitely unlocked. (The whole killing thing is fought over at great length and a truce of sorts is eventually made)

David Cain is never heard from again.

Damian shows up at some point.

At least one league member has suddenly found themselves as an HR rep for Gotham criminals? They’re still not quite sure how that happened.

[leighsartworks216]

What's In A Name

dragon!Sylus x blind!oracle!Reader

Series Masterlist - Chapter One - Prev Chapter - Next Chapter

Today has been rough, but I still wanted to get out this chapter since it's already written up

Warnings: injuries, pain, banter

Word Count: 1,005

Main Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

You hiss as you carefully pour the medicine over your palm. The bottle clatters against the floor, unintentionally. The pain is all you can think about, willing the sting to fade so you can keep working. As soon as it becomes bearable, you pick up the roll of cloth from your lap and work through feel alone to line it over your hand and start wrapping it. It’s not the best job ever, but it’ll do. Hopefully.

You repeat the actions on the other side. Soon enough, your hands are as well treated as you can manage. You feel the ends of the cloth, checking that they’re secure and won’t come unraveling.

Something almost giddy wafts up in your chest. You giggle dumbly as you open and close your hands, testing the limits of the wraps. “Hey, not bad!” you say to yourself. “Hah! I knew I could do it!”

Your cheering voice echoes back to you, slowly petering off into nothing. The silence sours the glee. You sigh and wrap your arms around yourself.

You have no idea what time it is, no idea where you actually are, and no idea where the stranger went off to. All you do know is that the longer you sit here on the thin sheet meant to be your bed, the more aware of your exhaustion you become.

You try to set everything where you can find it again. The room is small, so it shouldn’t be too difficult.

You feel out how long the sheet is. It’s not even half as wide as you are tall, but you’ll have to make do. You wrap it tightly around your shoulders and lay down slowly on the rock floor with your arm acting as a pillow. You wrap your cold feet tightly in whatever excess blanket you have left.

With a quiet prayer to Astra, you let yourself be consumed by a restless sleep. Visions of darkness, blood, and flowers, and a story that spans hundreds of years.

-

“Has your god seen fit to answer my prayer, yet?”

“He has, actually.” You walk alongside the edge of what you can only fathom to be a pile of gold. The metal coins dig into your feet, but that you can handle just fine. It’s when a gem is suddenly underfoot that you’re cursing and trying to brush it aside. You can feel his smug look every single time it happens.

You hear metal clinking against metal a short ways behind you. “And?”

You shoot a sly grin in that direction. “Why should I tell you? What would I get in return?”

He huffs an amused laugh. “What do you want in return?”

“Fresh food and water, and new clothes. It’s freezing in here, you know? And I haven’t eaten anything since…” You trail off, thinking. “What time is it, anyway?”

“You’re demanding a lot for a simple prophecy, pet.”

“Oh?” You turn away, walking along the mounds of treasure again. “Then I guess you’re not interested in what your future holds? Pity. I found it quite interesting.”

He sighs. Good. Serves the bastard right for kidnapping you. You hope he regrets it every single day. Though… whether he’d kill you over it is definitely a risk.

“I’ll get you some food. There’s a spring in the tunnels that you can get your water from. As for clothes…” You turn to listen better as you hear furniture creaking. Heavy footfalls approach, rounding you. “I have some tucked away. Whether they’ll fit you or not is questionable.”

“Are they good quality?”

“They’re better than your tattered rags. Does that suffice?”

You hum, considering. “Your destiny is going to be intertwined with someone else’s.”

He scoffs. “That’s it?”

“Until I’ve had a proper meal, yeah! Besides, I’m still trying to decipher some of what the prophecy is saying.” You cross your arms over your chest with a frown. “It’s like it spans millennia, but that shouldn’t be possible.”

He’s blessedly silent for a minute, giving you time to consider this predicament, before something hard nudges at your back. “Come on, pet. I’ll show you where the clothes are.”

You follow the clinking of metal under his shoes out of the chamber. “Stop calling me that! My name is Y/N, I’m not a pet, least of all yours, and I’m not some helpless ‘little thing’ for you to toy with!”

He tests your name on his tongue. It’s startling to hear it said in your captor’s voice. Perhaps you should have held your tongue and let him continue insulting you. A name can be a dangerous thing, after all.

“What’s your name?”

“I don’t have one.”

“What?!” you balk. “You must have one! What am I supposed to call you?”

You run into something solid and warm. The heat of his breath brushes your skin again as he whispers teasingly into your ear. “You can always call me master.”

You try to shove his face away with no luck. He laughs at your efforts, but gives you space once more. “Not in a million years. What about…” You wrack your brain for any semblance of something he liked from what little you could piece together. “Silver? Or Gold, or something?”

He chuckles. “I’m a bit more precious than that.”

“Okay, fine, then how about, um, Jewel? Jewels are better than silver and gold, aren’t they?” You hear him sigh, long and drawn out. The clinking of coins follows his footsteps. You trail after. “Look, give me something to work with here!”

“Jewel is fine. I don’t need a mortal’s name anyway.”

“That’s the second time you’ve specifically called out mortals,” you point out. The airflow in the cave changes as you step from the grand treasure chamber (this guy has some weird hobbies) to the closed-in tunnels. You’re grateful when you hear him bypass the stairs. “What are you if not a mortal, too?”

“Like I said before, maybe I’ll tell you one day.”

You sigh. “Jewel, you are one strange guy.”

---

Tag List:

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[scoobysnakz]

1940’s hubby miguel who decides to make dinner that night. he tells you to go have a bath, pour in those bath salts he’s spent so much money on, and relax. he’s got this sorted.

he makes your favourite and even decorates the table all nice and pretty for you. there’s a candle in the middle with the fancy white doilies you got as a wedding gift from some cousin however many times removed on his side. he even uses the china that is specially reserved for when either of your parents come over.

1940’s hubby miguel who plants a soft kiss to your neck as he pulls the chair out for you. “can’t let you get your freshly manicured hands dirty now, can we, doll?” he teases playfully.

you push him off, grinning, because you know full well he cleaned the house before you got home.

1940’s hubby miguel who spends the whole of dinner showering you with compliments and praise. at first you’re suspicious but his soft, dimpled smile calms your nerves.

you’re having an amazing time, just him and you with no negative emotions to get in the way of what will surely be be a great evening.

1940’s hubby miguel who eventually realises tonight can’t be all flirting and smiles because he has to be honest with you.

miguel clears his throat, drawing your attention away from your food and back up to him with your wide, admiring eyes. “we need to talk, doll.”

bile rises in your throat and your head feels heavy. he sounds so serious, anxious even, you’ve never seen him this way before. what is it he has to tell you? is he, fuck, is he cheating? is that why he’s been so nice, to let you down slowly?

“it sounds ridiculous, unbelievable, and i won’t be surprised if you slap me and tell me to grow up,” he starts, a slight edge to his voice, “but i’m spiderman.”

1940’s hubby miguel who can’t hide the hurt in his eyes when you burst out laughing. it’s nice, to see you smiling and giggling right after staring at him with such wide, intense eyes. but it still stings that you find this funny.

“dios mio, what’s so funny, amor?” he questions, trying to soften his tone.

it takes you a moment to catch your breath, tears threatening to spill as you clutch your chest. “what am i meant to say to that?” you just about manage, “is this some new roleplay you want to try out?”

he hadn’t thought of that, actually.

“no, no, doll, i’m being deadly serious right now,” he allows an air of urgency to enter his voice, hoping it conveys the amount of vulnerability he’s showing.

“no way,” you declare, arms folded across your chest, “i’ve met him and he’s a slimy pompous ass, who thinks just because he’s saved a few thousand lives he can just pick up some random married woman.”

he smiles sheepishly at you, pearly whites and ever sharp canines poking over his lips. “ouch.”

you shake your head, still refusing to believe him. “if this is true, how haven’t i figured it out yet?”

“i’m a little hurt that you haven’t. you spent so long oggling over him on the news that i was sure you already knew.”

1940’s hubby who, after much back and forth, slowly convinces you.

“show me your webs.”

“muñeca, i can’t.”

“i know you can, migs.”

he pauses for a moment, glaring down at you with your determined frown, his expression mirroring yours. “how?” he finally sighs, a smile creeping up on him.

“i have a few ideas…”

since u asked for a tag

@laysmt

prev < > next

[g1rld1ary]

camp counselor!james potter x reader 2

wc: 1989

cw: swearing, nothing

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TAG: @lovemenotts

Camp had started in full swing, as expected. You’d spent the whole day jumping from task to task; handing out bandaids, sorting out friendship dramas (how were there already dramas when the kids had been there twenty minutes?) and introducing yourself to the new campers. Things were going smoothly until dinner had finished and the whole camp was packed into the underdeveloped amphitheatre, ready for a night of singing and speeches.

You and James had commenced the evening with an official welcome, only one or two undermining comments on each side. James’ performative traits could come in handy but they annoyed you to no end, resulting in several pointed elbows when he ventured too far off track and approached stand-up territory.

“So what’d you think?” He asked after you’d started off the music for the night, hot on your tail.

“I think you need to fall out of love with yourself a little,” You quipped, not sparing much of a look at him.

“C’mon, you’re so convinced I’m not taking this seriously but I didn’t mess it up at all!” He whined, tailing you as you weaved your way over to the cabin group you were in charge of. There was one girl missing but you weren’t too worried, the seating arrangements weren’t mandatory, it just tended to happen on the first night of camp.

“You didn’t mess up but you are bloody annoying,” You hissed before switching on your smile as you sat down next to your campers, shooing James away to do the same. He gave a two-fingered salute and turned on his heel, you couldn’t tell if the action was sarcastic or not.

The night played on, featuring sing-alongs to 2000s classics and performances from some of the musically inclined counselors. You were even treated to a comedy set by a few fourteen-year-olds (dumb jokes that you all laughed at anyway — you were just glad they were all clean as you’d reiterated at least six times).

From behind you, you felt a tug on your shirt. A camper was leaning over to you from his seat, eyes glancing all over the place.

“There’s a girl crying near the toilets,” He said.

“What? Who? Why?” You couldn’t help the questions tumbling from your mouth. The boy shrugged.

“Dunno. She had purple glasses. Dunno.” God, sometimes you just loved kids and how insightful they could be. You did, however, know who he was talking about. Your missing camper, it was her first night at camp and so you had an inkling of why she might be crying. You thanked the boy for letting you know and climbed out of the bench seat, weaving past campers and counselors alike.

You were preparing your best soothing methods when you approached the toilet block only to find your camper wasn’t alone. Or crying very much at all. Instead, she was wiping the tears off her cheeks as she giggled at whatever James Potter was telling her, curled up next to her against the wood-panelled wall.

You stopped in your tracks to observe the pair. James’ glasses had fallen down the bridge of his nose slightly, but he made no move to fix it as he gestured wildly, clearly telling some ridiculous, exaggerated story of camps gone by. Below his natural aptitude for entertaining, though, was something softer. The way he’d glance at the girl, Gracie, between every sentence to gauge her changing mood. The comforting pat to her knee or shoulder when she made a reply or sniffled.

You’d seen James as a counselor before, obviously. You’d both been in camp since you were around eight years old and had progressed at about the same rate; becoming general counselors the same year and then moving up to head counselor. So you knew at some level that James was theoretically mature and responsible and good with kids. Not that the ‘good with kids’ part was necessarily in doubt before — everyone at camp certifiably adored him, but you thought that was because he was loud and interesting and funny. Now you could see that it was because he was soft. James Potter was warm, sunlight on a lazy afternoon, he was affectionate and he cared. That’s why everyone loved him. Though the loud, funny and interesting thing certainly helped his case.

You began to feel like a bit of a creep just watching them and approached, coughing to make your presence known before sitting down in front of the two, not caring about how your denim cutoffs would have dirt on them when you stood up. James looked up with wide eyes and it almost seemed like he was glad to see you, though that didn’t make much sense.

“What’s going on here?”

“Gracie’s feeling a bit homesick, she’s never been away from home before,” James explained for you, still rubbing a comforting hand up her arm. You figured that was the case. Gracie was eleven, still just a baby.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked her, “I’m your cabin leader.” Gracie hesitated then looked up at James.

“She’s a little afraid of you,” He stage whispered and your mouth dropped open.

“Me? I’m not scary, am I?” You played for the crowd, exaggerating your gestures to appear less threatening and accusatory. Clearly, the two had had more of a heart-to-heart than you initially thought as James answered for her once again.

“You have to admit you’re a bit intimidating, love. You command attention, you’re scarily organised and you’re a little bossy.” He trailed off into a joking tone and you rolled your eyes.

“Firstly, don’t call me ‘love’, Potter, it’s unprofessional. Secondly… I guess you have a point — not about me being bossy though. I’m not bossy.” You directed the last sentence at Gracie at the same time that James teased you for ‘being delusional’. Gracie giggled though, the last of her tears drying up. You caught James’ eye for a fraction of a second, just enough to convey the agreement that whatever you were doing was working.

“What can I do to make you less afraid of me?” You asked her and James answered once more.

“I’m already on it, actually. I was just telling Gracie here about the time you tried the obstacle course four years ago.” You groaned dramatically, covering your face in very real embarrassment.

“You are so terrible,” You whined, “That was honestly my most humiliating camp moment. I was so cocky and had the most over-the-top trash-talk known to man, then wiped out on the first obstacle.” You couldn’t help but join in with James’ laughter, and Gracie wasn’t far behind, girlish giggles far higher in pitch than yours or James’.

“Really?” She asked when she could catch a breath.

“Really,” You affirmed, “It was a total wipeout too, I went sliding right through the mud and was covered head to toe in front of the whole camp. I couldn’t get the mud out of my hair for days! I’m sure James still has some of the photos hidden away somewhere. I definitely learnt my lesson about getting too arrogant that day.”

“I definitely do,” James agreed, sticking his tongue out when you made an offended face.

“Will we get to do the obstacle course this summer?” Gracie asked, boundless enthusiasm growing in her eyes.

“Absolutely we will! Maybe we’ll even get this one to participate again.” James cocked his head in your direction.

“No, no, no. I swore on that day I would never embarrass myself like that again,” You hid behind a laugh, not wanting to admit how much the incident haunted you.

“Please, you have to!” Gracie all but squealed, clapping excitedly. You pretended to consider it for a moment, then gave your most diplomatic answer.

“Maybe. It’ll take some serious convincing though.”

When you were sure Gracie was thoroughly convinced you ushered the three of you back in the direction of the amphitheatre. Gracie ran ahead, becoming eager to rejoin the camp traditions that you and James had successfully talked up. You and James dawdled behind, not quite so pressured to return to the event you’d experienced so many times.

James threw an arm around your shoulder, forcing you to adopt his step pattern.

“We make a pretty good team, don’t you think?” He asked, just a hint too cocksure for your liking.

“You wish, Potter,” You stuck your tongue out childishly. After a beat of silence, you softened, “You did good today. I didn’t know you had that in you.”

“Was that a compliment?” He asked, smile growing wide across his face. You almost felt the need to cover your eyes, the blinding shine illuminating the dirt path ahead of you.

“Yeah, don’t get used to them,” You grumbled, trying to pull away but James just held on to you tighter, practically pushing his weight onto you as you tried to keep your path straight.

“You’re warming up to me,” He sang. You rolled your eyes so hard you thought they might fall out. Not wanting to lead the conversation to any sappy territory you changed the subject.

“Did you really have to tell her about the obstacle course?”

“I knew you wouldn’t mind, not really. Did you want me to tell her about the first time we all got drunk instead?” You shook your head violently fast, the memory bringing colour to your cheeks even years later.

“Alright, moment over!” You ducked away from his hold on you, conveniently in time for you both to approach the amphitheatre and presumptuous eyes again. James followed a few steps behind, a dumb grin on his face you didn’t catch.

“So there was a moment?” He called, just quiet enough that it didn’t attract attention from the campers. You stopped to turn back to him, making sure he could see you rolling your eyes. Yet, you reluctantly returned the handshake he initiated — a dumb, overly intricate routine you made up in the rare instances he wasn’t completely annoying or making fun of you when you were both twelve — a silent agreement that you’d done something good together, a suggestion that maybe working with him wouldn’t be as infuriating as you assumed.

“Already falling for James?” Lily asked that night, safe in her corner of the cabin. If it didn’t require getting out from under the cozy covers you would have hit her.

“The fuck are you talking about, Evans?” You snapped with no ferocity, pulling small laughs from the other girls in the room.

“We saw you returning from a suspicious time out in the woods. What heinous acts are you two committing in there?” Marlene added with a teasing lilt. You wished they could see you rolling your eyes.

“For your information, we were comforting one of my girls. She just ran ahead and you know I don’t do running in the dark.”

“And yet, you didn’t look like you hated Potter with the heat of a thousand suns?”

“He did a good job, it’s whatever. He’s softer than I am.”

“Until now because you’re falling for him and you’re gonna be in love by the end of the summer,” Dorcas sang gleefully. You protested loudly before giving up, three against one too much for you to handle at that time of night. You punctuated the end of the conversation with a decisive flip to face the wall, bringing your blanket with you. You ignored the lingering giggles in favour of sleep, apparently the only place you could avoid talk of James Potter.

[the-words-forever-unwritten]

Whao me mentioned:D

Todd becoming Neil's favorite and Jeffery becoming "Todd's brother" is something that is oh so special to me.

Neil’s gay awakening being Jeffery Anderson just to end up dating Todd!! Oof the blushing mess Neil would be when the brothers have dinner to catch up

[redvexillum]

A/N: It was supposed to be a raunchy one-shot but somewhere along the way, the feels have been caught. Also, special thank you to @glitterypeachy for the amazing Vox fanart on my title banner!

SUMMARY: Your boss, Vox, is a class-A hole, and you had envisioned tormenting him for all the overtime he was forcing you to work. Truly, he was ensuring that your time in Hell was...Hell. Perhaps it was you burning out, but you had a very vivid, steamy dream of your boss.

...At least, you were pretty sure it was a dream.

TAGS/WARNINGS: f!reader, assistant!reader, dom!reader, sub!Vox, dual POV, hating your boss to confused h*rny, reader is extremely sleep deprived and is so done with Vox's shenanigans, mutual attraction, pining, p in v, fluff, soft, edging, electrostimulation (brief)

<- PREV

“Ugh, fuck!” Vox cried out, panting heavily, his body writhing against the cords binding him. You giggled softly, your hands hovering tantalizingly close to his desperate cock, begging for release.  

This game had been going on for a while; you’d tricked him into thinking he was going to fuck you. Instead, you lay on his legs, your breasts pressed up against his quivering thighs, slowly stroking him.  

“What’s wrong, boss?” you murmured, your breath warm against his skin. You trailed the tip of your tongue along the sensitive curve of his head, tasting the salty musk of his arousal. With a sigh, you gently pulled back the foreskin, placing a soft kiss just below the tip.  

He groaned deeply, a sound filled with both pleasure and frustration, his cock twitching in your grasp. The throbbing pulse under your touch was irresistible, and his obvious tell when he was about to cum made it impossible not to edge him, again and again. 

“Ho-how long?” he whined, shifting his hips desperately, trying to press his cock against you, rubbing against you, anything to relieve the pressure building inside his balls.  

“Well,” you whispered, your finger trailing lightly from the head of his cock, collecting the bead of pre-cum and painting it down the thick vein of his shaft, “when I’m ready to fuck you, sir.” You said ‘sir’ with a cheeky grin, your voice pitched high in mockery.  

A soft, needy whine escaped him as he wiggled his body, trying to find any relief from the intense need that had him in a choke-hold. His chest rose and fell rapidly, pixelated sweat streamed down his face. Stifling a giggle, you pressed your lips against the middle of his shaft, closing your eyes to savour the searing heat of his skin.  

“Ah, fuck,” he moaned, his hips jerking upward as you trailed barely there kisses down his length. Your fingers curled around the wires wrapped tightly around his hips, and as you tugged them down, Vox unexpectedly let out a loud yelp.  

Startled, your eyes flew open as you saw Vox wince. You glanced down at your hand and noticed the wire you had tugged on had an exposed section. Realization dawned on you that you had accidentally shocked him. “Oh, shit,” you cringed as you carefully tried to unravel the surrounding wire. “Are you alright?” 

When Vox didn’t answer, you looked back at his face and saw a red tint flushed across it. He didn’t look upset or in pain. In fact, the way he was panting with a grin plastered across his screen, he looked rather…excited.  

You glanced down at the wire and experimentally pressed it against his inner thigh. The reaction was immediate. He cursed, his back arching while his cock stood straight and a pool of pre-cum began to form at the tip.  

Oh. He really liked this, didn’t he? 

You pressed your finger on the exposed wire, but you didn’t feel anything – not even a tingle. But judging by Vox’s reaction, he definitely felt the shock that your body couldn’t register.  

Humming, you gave him a smirk and hovered the wire just above the tip of his dick. You looked up at him, tilting your head with a teasing glint in your eyes.  

Vox’s eyes were transfixed on the open wire, his breath hitching. Hesitantly, he lifted his hips, slowly inching closer. He paused when the tip of his cock was just a hair’s breadth away from the wire. You stood still, watching him, waiting for him to embrace the sensation on his own.  

With a deep breath, Vox surged forward, making the decision himself. The moment his cock touched the open wire, he cried out loudly, his voice echoing off the walls. His hips shuddered violently as he continued to press his leaking tip against the wire, pre-cum smearing around.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, oh, fuck me!” he moaned, his face glitching with pop-ups warning of overheating before his expression returned, contorted with pleasure.  

As soon as you pulled the wire away from his cock, he sobbed, his hips thrusting in desperate, tiny stokes into the air, as if he were fucking an invisible pussy. His body craved the shocking sensation of the open wire, the lust in his eyes undeniable.  

“Let me,” his tone wavered with the glitches, “let me fuck you. I’ll fuck you so good,” he promised, or maybe he was begging, as he shut his eyes and tiny shivers wracked his frame.  

“I don’t know,” you said in a sing-song voice. Moving up, you sat on his abdomen, enjoying the view as his shirt rode up, exposing his chest. You pulled on the wire, lightly patting it against his skin, trailing it up his abdomen as he continued to buck his hips, pressing the tip of his cock urgently against your backside.  

“Fuck me,” he groaned, his bound hands trembling above his head.  

“You know, you cock blocked me for the past two years, boss,” you said casually. You dropped the damaged wire next to him, unreachable. Vox whimpered as he saw the wire lying far from him, the stimulating sensation just out of his reach.  

Vox blinked once, then twice, as your words seemed to finally penetrate his pleasure-fogged brain. His eyes snapped back to your face. “Cock block?” he asked, his voice regaining its normal timbre.  

His brows knitted together as he searched your eyes for meaning. “Are you …uh…seeing somebody?” he asked quietly, and the atmosphere between you shifted into something uncomfortable and heavy.  

With a sharp, bitter laugh, you shook your head. “Not anymore. She officially dumped me today,” you shrugged, trying to sound casual.  

“Oh,” Vox replied, a shit-eating grin spreading across his lips.  

That bastard. He was probably mocking you in his mind right now.  

Widening your thighs, you presented your cunt to him, giving him a full view of your dripping, swollen folds. His eyes widened as he took in the sight, his breath catching in his throat as he stared at your glistening, sopping hole.  

“You see, boss,” you said, your voice thick with desire, “with all the shitty overtime you have me doing, I haven’t come in ages.” You slid your fingers between your lips, stretching your hole open, feeling your inner walls clench and twitch, desperately craving something – anything – inside of you.  

“We could fix that,” Vox said, his tone eager as he tried to inch closer, his head straining forward.  

“How about,” you began, slowly stroking your clit with your other hand, moaning emphatically, “I finish all over you and then go home?” 

Vox chuckled at your empty threat. “Or you could untie me, and I’ll make you feel really good, sunshine.”  

The cocky smile on your lips froze, along with the fingers pressing against your bare centre.  

Sunshine.  

You hadn’t heard Vox call you by that nickname since you’d started avoiding him after catching his tongue down Val’s throat.   

“Sunshine?” You had asked one night after you and Vox had wrapped up the latest project together. “That’s new, sir,” you giggled, feeling a flutter of happiness and nerves in your chest.  

“I thought it suited you, since you brighten my day!” Vox had exclaimed, flashing you a cheeky grin before both of you burst into laughter.  

Your hands slowly withdrew from your cunt, and you tilted your head, a look of defiance in your eyes. “Boss,” you responded, unwilling to give in to his demands.  

Vox’s eyes widened. Despite his wrists being bound, he reached out toward you, his desperation palpable. “Sunshine, untie me.” 

“Yikes, that’s so cheesy!” you had said with a laugh, covering your lips as elation filled your heart. You stood up from your desk and slowly began to pack up your documents. Vox, who was sitting on the edge of your desk, slid off and swallowed the space between you.  

His hand landed heavily on the document, stopping you from keeping your mind and your body busy. Stopping you from thinking about anything else but him. His frame cast a shadow over you – inviting you to sink deeper into his presence. 

“What if I don’t want to, sir?” you cut off the memory, pushing it away. You didn’t want to think about that right now.  

“Vox,” he said, grinning at you as he wiggled his bound hands in front of you. “I have my dick out, and you’ve been torturing me for the better part of the evening. At least call me by my name, sunshine.” 

His sharp red eyes had softened as he leaned closer. “Call me by my name, sunshine,” he murmured, his lips inching ever closer to yours.  

Your smile slowly faded, you hadn’t intended to stay late tonight. The office that was shrouded in darkness, transformed with Vox’s presence. The large, clear windows absorbed the soft golden light from the gates of Heaven, turning the usual dull office space into a resplendent dimension.  

It felt as if you and Vox were transported to a place far, far away from prying eyes and expectations.  

Against your better judgment, you stepped closer to him. “I don’t think it would be appropriate of me to start calling the CEO of VoxTek by his name,” you said, stepping even closer until the toes of your shoes barely grazed his. “Sir.” 

Vox grinned, that sure, cocky grin that made his employees feel that if they followed him, their path would only be filled with success. “Luckily, no one’s around to hear you,” he chuckled. With the tip of his claws, he gently lifted your chin, aligning your gaze with his. “So, it’s Vox,” he said softly, almost conspiratorially.  

You found it difficult to say no to him these days. In truth, you didn’t want to say no because deep down, it was what you wanted. “Vox,” you repeated quietly.  

His eyes searched yours, and yet neither of you made the next move, teetering on the threshold between boss and employee, waiting to see who would dare to cross it first. The surrounding air was thick with unspoken desires, the golden light casting a romantic glow, as if the universe itself was urging you both to take that final step.  

You stared at Vox’s wrists as memories from years ago faded into the back of your mind. Slowly, your fingers gently pulled the wires off; they were already loose, and if he had chosen to, he could have escaped on his own. Holding his wrists carefully in your hands, you found yourself stunned, unable to face him.  

With a forced smile, you tried your best to feign nonchalance, “I didn’t know I was still your sunshine." After all, you thought all the previous, frivolous flirting had died the moment your boss made his intentions with Valentino clear.  

“It suits you,” Vox said softly. Sitting up slowly, his claws traced a gentle line down your cheek before stopping below your chin, tilting your head to face him just like he did so many years ago.  

“Because I brighten your day?” you asked, raising a brow, pretending his words and the memories you shared didn’t affect you.  

Pretending you didn’t feel anything for him.  

But your pretense was pointless. The moment you recited his lines from the past, his face brightened, and he played a quirky sound, like a game show, signifying that you were correct.  

You snorted at the silliness of it all because this was the side of him that had made you fall in love in the first place.  

“That’s right,” Vox said, his hands cradling the sides of your face. “You still brighten my day, so that makes you, my sunshine.” 

His words finally carved a place in your chest, or perhaps, he always had a place there. As you let the meaning, the intention, behind his words sink in, you...

Ah, fuck.  

You hated him. 

You really, really, hated him.  

Your fingers reached for his head, grasping the sides firmly as you pulled him toward you. “You owe me a lot of kisses, Vox,” you whispered, your lips so close that even the slightest movement would bring them together in a soft kiss.  

All those missed opportunities, you were going to take them now with maximum interest.

“You’re right, I do,” Vox agreed easily. In a flourish of strength you hadn’t expected, he crashed his lips against yours. You felt the screen of his face soften, the warmth and wetness of his tongue glided into your mouth. The wires snapped from the force as Vox pushed you down to the floor, his body covering yours.  

He pulled back, panting, and you managed to say, “Those cords were a bitch to order, I just wanted you to know.” 

Laughing, Vox covered your lips with his again, ravaging the inside of your mouth, his tongue mapping out every inch, tasting you, leaving traces of himself so you could still feel him even after he parted. His hands roamed your body, each touch sending shivers down your spine.  

Your bodies moved in sync, the heat between you building with every kiss, every touch. The world outside the office ceased to exist, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other. The culmination of years of tension and unspoken feelings finally being released.  

The heat of his cock pressed against your folds, and he moaned as he slowly sank in his tip. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he mumbled, making short thrusting motions, sinking deeper into you with each stroke.  

Your legs wrapped around his waist, signalling him to fully bottom out. You yelped, feeling the unexpected depth and stretch; it had been a while since you last had sex. The molten heat of his cock prodded deep within you before he withdrew and quickly snapped his hips forward, driving his cock back inside.  

“Ah, fuck!” you cried, your claws clinging to his back as moans threatened to escape your lips.  

His breaths were short and uneven as he continued to hump you, his hips snapping into you, wet, meaty flesh slapping together. The sounds of your union echoed in his office.  

“Feels good, fuck, tell me it feels good, sunshine,” he panted, stretching and fucking the sensitive bundles of nerves deep within you.  

You couldn’t stop yourself from goading him, especially to a man as prideful as Vox. “Ah — you -” you gasped as he circled his hips, rubbing his pubic bone against the sensitive clit before fucking you again, “if you make me cum, maybe I’ll leave a five-star review,” you said, grinning before the pleasure overwhelmed you.  

Vox choked out a laugh, lifting your body until he was sitting on the floor. Your breasts bounced up and down as he grabbed your hips, lifting and dragging you while moving his hips in tandem. His cock plunged deeper with each motion, hitting spots inside you that sent electric shocks of pleasure through your body.  

“Oh fuck,” you whined, closing your eyes as this position perfectly targeted your g-spot. The coiling heat and pressure built inside you, making you tremble. “Oh, please, please, don’t stop,” you cried, feeling your nerves buzzing and your body steadily climbing towards the peak. “Don’t stop, Vox, don’t stop,” you moaned, each thrust driving you closer to the edge.  

“Yeah, let me see you cum, sunshine,” Vox panted, his moans mingling with yours. “Fuck, I want to see you cum all over my cock,” he growled, his tongue laving against the sensitive peak of your nipple. The way his teeth grazed your skin sent jolts of sensation directly to your heated core.  

The targeted bundles of nerves were all you needed. Your head fell back as you mewled and sobbed, your walls fluttering around the thick length of his cock, trying to milk him with everything you had. It was as if all the stress you carried within your body was released at once, your mind woozy as the rush of pleasure pierced through you.  

You screamed as your climax hit hard, your entire body shaking as waves of ecstasy crashed over you. You were sure at this point you were babbling, and you didn’t give a damn what words came out because fuck, this was what you needed and wanted for years.  

Feeling your cunt tighten around his throbbing cock, Vox groaned loudly, swearing and praising your pussy as he filled you with his release. His hot cum spurted inside you, filling you to the brim, the sensation sending another shiver through your already hyper-sensitive body.  

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” he moaned, his thrusts slowing to deep, deliberate strokes, ensuring he painted every inch of your walls.  

His arms wrapped around your sluggish body as your head comfortably rested against his chest. You heard the heavy thud of his heartbeat against your ear. Strands of hair stuck to your face, the room too hot from the running computers and the heat of your union, yet you didn't want to move away from his embrace.  

You didn’t want to wake up from this dream and leave him.  

His claws gently carded through your hair as he sighed in contentment. It was then that exhaustion hit you with full force, the post-orgasmic haze serving only to relax your body further, rendering the caffeine you had consumed utterly useless.  

Your eyes started to flutter closed, but you forced them open despite the stinging tiredness. You had to wear your clothes and leave; you couldn’t fall asleep in his arms.  

Ah, but since this was a dream, maybe you’d wake up back in the office again. A sudden surge of emotion hit you, and you pressed your face against his chest, savouring the warmth and comfort. You forgot how nice it felt to be held.  

“Sunshine?” Vox called out quietly, his claws gently brushing your hair in a soothing motion that made your muscles relax to the point of melting on him. 

“Mhm?” You hummed softly in response.  

“Stay with me?” he asked, his other hand wrapped around your waist, tightening. “I want to renegotiate on your contract.” 

You huffed out a quiet laugh, your eyes now fully closed, and your arms loosely wrapped around his torso. “Really, Vox? One good fuck, and you want to renegotiate on our contract?” 

“Well, we could add fucking to our contract, where I give you at least one good fuck every day,” his voice was whimsical and light, and you felt a light kiss against the top of your head.  

“And how long would this next contract be?” you asked, playing along with him, knowing that none of his and your words would come to pass.  

“Forever,” Vox said without missing a beat. “It would be for forever.” 

Your muscles seized momentarily before relaxing once more. This was a dream, right? Your subconscious was seriously contemplating working forever with him? How much of a masochist were you? Did you really enjoy working that much? 

“Will I still have to work mandatory overtime? Cause that’s incredibly shitty,” you murmured, rubbing your face against his chest, wanting to burrow deeper into him. “Will you still be an asshole?” you added quietly.  

There were so many other questions you wanted to ask, knowing you would never get an answer to any of them. “I’m tired,” you said, your voice tinged with sadness and fatigue. The words slurred slightly as each strand of your muscles started to relax.  

The simple words were weighed with meaning – tired of working overtime, tired of pretending that you didn’t have feelings for him, just overall tired. 

“Oh, that’s…” Vox hesitated, then you felt your body being lifted. “How about you rest up in my suite tonight, and we can talk about this tomorrow morning?” 

The last thing you remembered was opening your mouth, but you weren’t sure if you answered him at all before darkness and fatigue finally claimed your vision.  

You cuddled closer to the source of warmth, relishing the feel of another body beside you. Could it be? Did your girlfriend come back? Your eyes slowly opened, and you were first greeted by a bare torso, the skin colour a deep navy blue.  

Furrowing your brows, you slowly got up from the plush bed that was way too comfortable compared to what you were used to, with sheets as soft as something you couldn’t even compare to.  

Blinking slowly, your eyes flicked down to your body, and you smothered a sharp gasp, realizing that you were completely naked. Your eyes immediately looked at the face of the body’s owner, but you already knew who it was without having to look. 

The moment you saw the VoxTek's logo bouncing on your boss’s face to indicate he was in sleep mode, a groan escaped your lips, muffled by your hand.  

You had to be kidding yourself. You didn’t just do the most clichéd thing imaginable. But when memories of last night came flooding in to your mind, each one raunchier than the last, you bowed your head in defeat.

It wasn't a dream.

Fuck.

As if to confirm your worst fears, you felt his arms wrap around you with a firm, possessive grip. Before you could react, his lips planted a loud, affectionate smooch on your cheek. “Good morning, sunshine!” he said, his voice warm and teasing, filled with cheerful energy that contrasted sharply with the storm of emotions brewing inside of you.  

Your heart raced as you tried to process the situation, your mind still tangled in a web of confusion and regret. You shifted slightly, feeling the heat of his body pressed against yours and the weight of last night’s decision heavily on your shoulders.  

You had a thousand and one excuses ready: how last night was a mistake, how you weren’t in your right mind, how the sex was meaningless. 

But when you faced Vox, his eyes sparkled with genuine happiness and his arms wrapped around you with such tenderness, every excuse, every justification dissipated from your tongue.  

“Good morning,” you said, forcing a smile that felt as brittle as dry leaves. Your arms lay limp and loose in your lap as Vox sidled closer, his body radiating warmth. He tried to fully embrace you, but you felt the tremor in his arms when you didn’t return the gesture. The tremors were like an earthquake, splintering apart the ground of your resolve.  

The pad of his thumb drifted up to your cheek, gently stroking your face. Each touch was a soft caress, yet it felt like tiny needles prickling at your skin. His gaze roamed your features, his eyes dark and searching. Heat climbed up to your cheeks, mortified by how intimate his gesture was especially when both of you were stripped bare.

The air was thick with the scent of his cologne, a heady mix of spice and a sharp cool, tang of mint, wrapping around your throat as memories of last night flashed through your mind.  

“Sunshine?” Vox’s voice was a whisper, his breath ghosting across your skin as he pressed his body closer to yours. The pressure of his chest against you was a contradicting blend of comfort and a burden.  

“Yes...” you closed your eyes, trying to steady yourself, then opened them again, reigniting the determination and resolve you had nurtured for years. “Boss?” 

Vox chuckled weakly, the sound rough and strained. He continued to embrace you, his refusal to let you go was a silent plea. “So, it’s boss again, huh?” 

Your eyes stung as if salt had been rubbed into them, while your stomach churned, feeling as if it were filled with hot lead boiling your insides. You wanted to push him away because things would never work between you. 

You had two years to truly observe his relationship with his psychotic lover, and you were sure that the moment he found out about your affair with Vox, that shitty moth demon would kill you.  

“You can’t honestly think this would work, right, sir?” Your voice lacked the cruel, hard, edge needed to cut away the tender moment tying you two together. You looked at him, your heart once again held in your hands as you made an offering to him.  

You should push him away.

You must push him away.

You needed to push him away.

Yet, your treacherous hands touched his sides, pulling him closer to you. His response was an instantaneous sigh as he sank deeper into your embrace. The warmth of his body pressed against yours was almost unbearable, the heat between you intensifying the pain in your chest.  

“We won’t know unless we try,” Vox’s voice trembled, his smile tightening at the edges. “Are you going to leave me too?” he asked softly, his smile becoming lopsided as he tried to keep a light-hearted tone.  

Your brows furrowed, confused. What did he mean by “too”? The question lingered, but it was quickly overshadowed by the same chaotic thoughts that always swirled in your mind: your desire for him versus the stark reality of your situation. Your heart and mind were locked in a bloody feud that had raged on for years, neither side willing to concede.  

“Do you honestly think this would work?” You repeated the question, your voice tinged with desperation.

You needed to hear him say no.

Humanity had always done stupid things for love, willingly deluding themselves despite knowing that heartbreak lay at the end of the road. Yet, they would foolishly pick love over and over again.  

You would pick love, over and over again because... 

If there was even a small chance of obtaining a typical fairy tale ending... 

“Vox?” your voice hoarse, barely above a whisper. You leaned in closer towards his warmth, his embrace tightening around you. The cries of victory within your chest resonated as your mind finally relented.  

If there was even a small chance that you could be happy with him... 

“Sunshine,” Vox’s claws gripped your hips, pulling you closer and closer to his chest. “Don’t leave me,” he whispered, his voice wavered with desperation despite his attempts to remain calm and collected. “Stay with me.” 

If the road ahead that were surely filled with bumps and hardships but promised something worth fighting for at the end, then... 

With a slow, shuddering exhale, you smiled softly at him. The pain and distress in his eyes began to melt away. You leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss on his lips. You didn’t need a grand declaration to affirm each other’s affection. The quiet, simple connection was enough.  

As you felt his muscles relax, he returned your kiss, his eyes slowly closing. His hand cradled the back of your head, refusing to part from you, as if the very act of letting go would make you disappear from his grasp.  

If Vox believed this relationship was worth trying, then you wanted to believe that too.  

You pressed your chest against his, wanting him to feel the doubt that had plagued you for so long crumbling away with every beat of your heart. As you slowly parted from him, his breath mingled with yours, warm and reassuring.  

Right now, all that mattered was this moment, this connection, this unspoken promise of a future together.  

💠 MASTERLIST 💠

[streamafterlaughter]

Soundtrack to Disaster

Chapter III: I Carry You Around

masterlist | playlist | pinboard | prev

song(s) for this chapter: roam the room by citizen, drunk ii by mannequin pussy

a/n: i forgot how hard it was to get a new story going, but we’re movin!! please enjoy this lil chapter while i work on the new one :p also! thank you guys for 200 followers that’s kinda crazy for me on this site. 🥳🎉❤️

summary: you need some help recalling the events of last night

chapter tags: drinking/drug (weed) use, description of throwing up (reader), swearing, reader has a lot of nicknames (to avoid using y/n), slight angst, big game of telephone. | fic tags: Angst, hurt/(eventual) comfort, (eventual) smut, slow burn, enemies to friends to lovers, Eddie Munson x Fem!OC!Reader, Modern AU | This fic is rated 18+ MDNI

disclaimer: I do not consent to having my work fed to AI engines, or reposted in any way, shape, or form on other websites. Unless otherwise stated, this is the only account that features and contains this work, and any replication was done without my consent. Please let me know if you see my work elsewhere. Reblog to support the author!

tag list: reply/message to be added! @children-of-the-grave @five-bi-five @kellsck @faggotinie @xplrnowornever @taccobelle @micheledawn1975 @mewchiili @dreamerjj

-

“Hey,” Robin pokes you, still snoring constantly next to her on the air mattress. “Hey, wake up! I’m starving!” she shakes you lightly, and you groan. “C’mon, Benny’s is never packed this late. I’m buyin’.” Your eyes flutter open at the mention of her treating you.

“Okay, okay. I’m awake.”

“Oh, good. I was beginning to think the last vodka sprite killed you.”

“It probably should’ve.” You squint, attempting not to let too much light in before you know the status of your hangover. You blink a few times, focusing solely on not sitting up too quickly. “Alright, I think we’re in the clear. Bacon sounds so good right now.”

“Is she up?” Steve calls from the kitchen, over the clatter of bottles being thrown into the recycling bin.

“Yeah, I’ve tempted her with free food.” Robin giggles, following your lead of slowly exiting the blow up bed. “Will the Insufferable Bard be joining us on the breakfast quest?” You regret the words after they leave your lips.

“Is the evil queen asking little ole me to tag along?” Eddie practically skips into the living room, way too chipper for your hungover brain to handle. Steve has the balls to snicker. “I’d be absolutely delighted to accompany you to dine for breakfast, Highness.” He curtsies for emphasis.

“Never mind, actually. I just remembered I’m needed somewhere that, um, not here.”

Eddie tsks at you. “Ah, no take backs. Shall I get your coat?”

-

Fluffy diner pancakes and greasy bacon can and do save you. You moan as you shove a bite full of syrup and pancake into your mouth, met with similar responses as your friends devour their food. You can feel Eddie staring at you from across the booth.

“So, did I sleep through all of the cleaning?” You ask after swallowing. “I promise that wasn’t the intention.”

Steve shakes his head, sipping his coffee. “Actually, you did most of it last night. You don’t remember?”

You squint, as if trying to see the blurry memories in front of you. You remember playing beer pong, and then losing beer pong. You remember bits and pieces of conversations with Robin and Steve. You remember Chrissy running out of Steve’s bedroom. Then nothing. “Huh. Guess not.” Usually you only black out when you’re angry, but you can’t remember anything viscerally upsetting happening to you. Not consciously.

Steve shrugs. “Weird. Nah, we let you sleep. It was hard enough getting you into bed.”

You feel your cheeks burn. “Sorry, Steve. Guess I can’t hold my liquor.”

“Nah, I didn’t do anything. Eddie pretty much took care of you.”

Your blood freezes in your veins, draining quickly from your face. “What?”

Steve places his mug down, and Robin throws her arms in the air in defeat and disappointment. “What? What did I say?”

“Seriously, dingus?”

Eddie’s gone silent, silverware long abandoned on his plate. “You promised you weren’t gonna bring that up.” The words are muffled behind his hand.

“I did?”

Robin slaps her palm to her forehead.

“What the hell is going on?” You look from Steve to a red cheeked Eddie.

He sighs. “Sorry, princess. Guess your knight in shining armor’s an ogre.”

You’re gaping. Not a single part of this makes sense to you. You and Eddie haven’t been that close in years. “Aren’t you already Chrissy’s ogre though?”

Eddie’s eyes narrow, irritated as he shoves a bite of toast into his mouth. “That’s none of your business.”

You raise your hands in surrender. “Okay, shit. Didn’t know you were so sensitive about it.”

“I think I’m lost here.” Steve interrupts, leaning over Robin to reach for the syrup.

“Can we move on, please? I don’t feel like talking about this.”

The response is an awkward silence.

“Thank you.” Eddie says, mouth full of bread. You surrender, for now. You make it a point in your head to find out more. It’s only fair, you reason, I was there too.

—

“Chris, you home?” You call your brother as you enter your apartment. Guitars are blaring from the back of your house, loud enough that he wouldn’t be able to hear you. You wander down the hall, checking the empty bathroom and kitchen on your way. “Chris?”

“Hey, Bug!” Chris calls from the spare-bedroom-turned-studio, turning his stereo down. “C’mere a sec, need your opinion on something.” You follow the sound of his voice into the room, taking in the sight in front of you. Chris has sprawled himself out on the floor, a skateboard deck dismantled in front of him. “Can I ask you something?” You lean against the doorframe, observing your brother.

“You just did.”

You scoff. “Can you remember anything from last night?”

Your question stops his movement. “Uh, maybe. Which part?”

“It’s spotty after midnight. What happened to me?”

Chris turns to face you, and you move to sit in the office chair across from him. “Well. You still can’t handle your liquor.”

“Oh, c’mon. I had, like, three drinks.”

“Yeah, and you got your ass beat in beer pong. I know you hate it, but beer still has alcohol in it.”

“Oh, shut up. Tell me what happened!”

“Okay, but you can’t get mad.”

“I will not be making any promises.”

-

Last night (as told by Chris)

You stumble into the kitchen, on your way for yet another refill, but you’re stopped short by the solid torso dawned in old leather, reeking of weed. “Man, roadblock.” You Look up to find Eddie looking down at you, eyes curious, joint in hand standing next to your brother, blocking the cooler. “Move aside, dweebs.”

“Hey, Bug. You okay?”

“Hm?” You try to focus on Chris’s face, squinting hard, as if you’re looking directly at the sun. “Yeah, ‘m cool. It’s bright in here.” The lights aren’t even on.

“No, she’s not.” Eddie’s eyes are fully trained on you, concern written plainly on his face. The kid likes to party, but he knows his limits. You, unfortunately, cannot say the same. You rest against the sticky counter, but immediately retract at the sensation, breathing shallowly through your nose. Eddie can see the panic in your eyes when they linger in space for a second too long.

“She’s gonna puke. Move, I got her.” Eddie sprints to your aid, leading you down the hall by the waist, draping your arm over his shoulder, and into the bathroom. “Eddie, ‘m fine.” You slur, completely unconvincing. The bathroom is empty, thankfully. The party’s been over for a while, but you’d slammed quite a few without hesitation tonight, and Eddie thinks, perhaps, he had something to do with it.

“Hey, I got you, c’mere.” Eddie holds your hair back as you crouch in front of the toilet, the only thought going through his head being “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, while he reaches with his free hand to wet a washcloth. When his back is turned, you let it rip, and he rushes back to your side, placing the cool cloth against your clammy forehead. “Feel better?”

Your face screws tightly in concentration. “Gettin’ there.” You string the words together, like you’re too afraid to open your mouth any wider. “Thanks, Ed.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“It’s not like we’re friends.” You flinch after you say it.

“Maybe not, but I know too-drunk-to-stand when I see it. Wasn’t gonna let you try to find your own way here.”

“Or you’re secretly in love with me.” You tease, voice strained.

“Okay, now you’re talkin’ crazy. C’mon sweets, it’s bedtime.” He dodges your comment, eager to get out of there.

“Nooo,” You whine, and Eddie smiles dopily at you. “I’m not tired!”

“Doesn’t matter. You stay out here, you’re destined to give yourself alcohol poisoning. C’mon, we can go set up your bed downstairs.”

“You tryna suggest something, Munson?” You tease, wobbly as he helps you stand up.

“What would I be suggesting?” You shrug. You must not have a clue what you’re saying right now. “Did your brother tell you something?”

“What? No, I’m kidding, Eddie. We don’t like each other, remember?”

“No, you don’t like me.”

Your resolve seems to slip, but only a little. “I have my reasons.”

Eddie nods. “Yeah, I know.” He stands up, and offers his hand out for you. You grab it, using it to pull your weight up from the ground. “Okay, prince charming. Whisk me to bed.”

“As you wish, princess.” He helps you get back downstairs, and into the already prepared air mattress. “Your throne awaits.”

You giggle as he guides you down, staying parallel to your body in case you lose your balance. You make it unscathed though, and he brings the blanket up to your chin. “Here,” He pulls an unopened water bottle from his back pocket. “Lemme get you a bucket or something, I’ll be right back.”

“Wait,” You reach out and grab his hand. He looks at your face, the way your eyes are already half closed like your eyelids weigh a ton. “Can you take them off?”

“Excuse me?” He chokes.

“My boots. They’re hard to take off.” You point to your feet, sticking out of the blanket and clad in heavy leather.

“Oh, yeah. ‘Course.” He clears his throat nervously, busying his hands with the buckles of your shoes. By the time he slides the second one off, your head has hit the pillow, and you’re snoring peacefully.

—

Present day

You feel your stomach drop, much akin to the way it must have felt last night. “That did not happen.”

Chris shrugs, like it’s nothing. “Maybe I got some details wrong. After he got you to bed he was freaking out. I don’t get why you have such an issue with the guy.” He shrugs, turning back to his board.

You furrow your brow at him. “Are you being serious?” He whips his head back to you, confused. “Remember? He got you put in prison?!”

He stares back at you, blank faced. “What are you talking about?”

“He ratted you out, Chris! Testified against you! Snitched! I know I blacked out last night, but c'mon! You were in the room when it happened!”

“Oh, my god.”

“What?!” You’re beside yourself, absolutely at a loss. “Chris, don’t tell me you forgive him for that.”

“Beebs, my beautiful, innocent, cherub of a little sister. You have no idea what you’re talking about right now.” Somewhere in the distance, Chris’s phone is ringing, and your vision goes white.

“What does that even mean?!” Chris ignores you, picking up his cell. “Chris!”

“Yo,” You can’t hear the voice on the other line. “Hey, man. Relax. No, she’s good. Alive, thanks to you probably. Kinda pissed, though.” He looks to where you’re silently seething at your brother. “No, I didn’t say shit! I just filled in some blanks from last night.” You can hear Eddie on the other line, voice frantic, but you can’t make out what he’s saying. “Okay. No, I won’t. But you have to.” Long pause. “Yeah, you do. I thought she knew!” He waits. “I don’t care! She has every right to, actually! I would be pissed, too! Figure it out, dude.” He hangs up and looks back to you. “Eddie has some explaining to do.”

—

[kquil]

POLY MARAUDERS | HEROES IN TATTOOS PART 4

04 : DISAPPEAR

SUM. : you find out the truth about the boys' relationship

REQUEST. : this might be a dumb question but are the marauders also all in a poly relationship with each other? if so, i'd love one where the reader finally has that realisation and gets all blushy and starts to consider if they'd ever want to include her —@thepunisherfrankcastle

TAGS. : modern au ; muggle au ; tattoo artist james ; tattoo artist sirius ; piercer remus ; only slight fluff ; mostly angst ; im so sorry ; reader finds out the truth ; but not really in the best way ; major misunderstanding trope ; sirius isn't a bad person! ; poly relationship revealed ; yay? ; distance ; walking away trope-ish ; james is precious ; remus trying to make the hard decisions ; our boys need a hug ; wolfstar ; starchaser ; angst angst angst ; im sorry im sorry im sorry!

LENGTH : 5.2k

← PREV. : 03 | GROCERIES

Hearing James giggling fills your chest with warmth and is so contagious that you have to bite your lip so as not to join him. He sees your resistance and moves his hand, making you freeze up and stop all movement. His index finger curls under your chin to lift your gaze as his thumb settles on your bottom lip and slowly draws it out from the press of your upper teeth. 

“I can’t be the only one laughing, angel,” on his face is an innocent smile but you know he’s devilish — the raging fire he lights up inside you with the smooth delivery of his simple statement is evidence enough that he’s up to no good.

His light grasp offers barely any resistance when you lift your chin away, “that’s because I’m not ticklish like you,” 

“Hey now,” he warns firmly but you can see the mutual playfulness reflecting clearly in his hazel eyes, it was like staring into clear honey, “you’re the one who’s colouring in my tattoo like a toddler,” 

“I was bored,” you defend a little too quickly, getting huffy and exaggerating a pitiful pout. It was… a sight, James admits in his head; you look adorable like this and he wants to frame the image in his memory forever, “and besides, you agreed to it,”

“Yeah, so don’t tease me about being ticklish,” his hand reaches up to play with a strand of your hair before he leans down to press a kiss onto your forehead, where you feel his mischievous smile lift up the corner of his lips, “instead, tell me how much you love to hear my laugh,”

There’s no way you’ll ever admit that. Not to his face, at least…

“Woah, comfy are we?~” came the familiar teasing voice of Sirius, who walks into the room and almost has his eyes bulging out at the sight of you and James, “you lucky bastard, Prongs,” Sirius clicks his tongue but there’s no malice in his eyes or tone, “shirtless, all relaxed and cool, leaning back into the sofa with our doll on your lap and colouring in your tats,” your cheeks heat up under your skin when a shameless expression takes over James’s face and he sends a wink over at his fellow tattooist. 

“I guess I saved the universe in a past life,” James chuckles, receiving an eye roll in return.

“And you, princess,” Sirius whistles playfully and leans down to kiss the crown of your head, “how lucky you are to have such well-sculpted muscles and a handsome face entertaining you,” the heat on your cheeks continue to blossom, “I don’t know who I’m more jealous of,”

That was the first time you were hinted at Sirius’s dichotomy. Between the wink he sends James and the satisfied grin the glasses-wearing brunette returns, you felt a slight shaking in your heart that you couldn’t quite place. 

It didn’t feel bad… but it didn’t feel good either…

After the first homemade lunch you made for them, you’ve gotten into the habit of regularly visiting the boys at the shop with boxed lunches whenever time nears noon. They often insisted that the first surprise lunch was enough thanks. 

“It’s really okay for you not to do this, dove,” Remus voices, slowly trailing off as he leans forward to wipe a stray crumb off the side of James’ mouth with his thumb, only to lick the crumb he wiped off without batting an eye. James pays him no mind either and continues savouring your cooking; he was always the one person who devoured your food as if he was a starved man being fed for the first time.

“But–” you quickly protest, trying to dismiss the small gesture between the two, “but I enjoy cooking for you,” 

“And we’re very grateful,” Sirius smiles warmly at you and takes your hand to press a kiss against your knuckles, “but your company is enough,” ever the flatterer and flirt, you resist the butterflies in your stomach from his gesture and words. 

“And we feel guilty that you have to buy and cook all this food,” Remus adds but you assure them one more time. 

“I promise I’ll stop if it ever gets too hard or burdensome but, for now, please let me do it…” the boys look at each other and smile following a unanimous sigh of defeat. You weren’t aware of the effect your soft pleas and pretty eyes had on them. Of course, they couldn’t say ‘no’ and agreed, satisfied with your pledge for the meantime. 

“Ugh! These cookies are amazing!” James praises, completely oblivious to the interaction you had with Remus and Sirius. He looks up and the three of you have to suppress your laughter at his childish appearance, crumbs surrounding his mouth as his cheeks puffed out from the food he still had to chew. 

“Swallow your food first, James,” Remus reminds, which James quickly does before addressing you again. 

“Can you please teach me?” James leans forward in earnest and you swear there are stars in his eyes, “please teach me how to make them so I can have them all the time. I’m an expert at making fruit tarts now but Moony and Padfoot are sick and tired of me making just fruit tarts,”

You were flattered but…“I want them to stay special though,” you pout softly, “I want to be the only person who bakes them for you,”

Before James could answer, Sirius breaks out into peels of laughter, “you don’t have to worry about that, doll,” he winks at you and side-eyes James with a smirk, “James sucks ass in the kitchen, especially when it comes to baking,” James shouts in protest but is swamped by the laughter shared between you, Remus and Sirius. Nevertheless, you finally agreed to teach him just so he stops pouting… even if he looked cute doing so. 

That Saturday, you were at their apartment, eager to teach James the secrets to your baking creations. Their flat was sizable and still relatively clean, which you verbally praise and are clued into all of their cleaning habits in more detail. It appears that they have a pretty good system going on that keeps things neat; Remus handles the organisation of all items and keeps stock on most things, Sirius proactively keeps all spaces clean and James loves doing laundry. When asked, he said that the main reason was because he liked the smell of clean sheets, which you couldn’t really blame him for. Together, their good habits cumulatively result in a tidy space and you were impressed; not only were they great friends but they functioned well together too. In some ways, you were envious of that. 

When you arrived at the apartment, the boys had all of the ingredients you sent over on a list laid out on their kitchen counters, ready to be put together and baked into your famous cookies. 

“Do you two want to join us?” you ask with a smile as James helped you into Sirius’ apron, tying up the strings behind you. 

“We’re good, darling,” Sirius smiles and offers to tie up your hair as James slips into his apron. You don’t deny his assistance and hand him over your hair tie as Remus observes the scene with a soft smile, leaning against the door frame that leads into the kitchen.

As much as Sirius and Remus disparaged James’ abilities to bake in the kitchen, he, once again, proved them wrong. He did pretty well with following your instructions and getting things done if you discounted the times he got distracted and had to pull you away from the work as well, just to share in the fun. The last time you baked together was a lot of fun and you were just as eager to get back into the kitchen with him in order to experience that joy all over again. Like last time, Sirius and Remus occupied the living room while you and James got to making the cookie dough before eventually baking the cookies. With the timer set, it won’t be too long before you’re happily serving everyone yours and James’ baked cookies with some tea and coffee. 

“It’s just down the hall,” James points out, directing you to their bathroom, “it’s the last door on your right,” with a quick word of thanks, you make your way out to relieve yourself while James gets started on clean up duty. You promised not to be too long so he didn’t have to clean all by himself but he just laughed it off and assured you to take all the time you need — ever the sweetheart. 

Your mood was light and happy and, like all other times you spent with the boys, it felt as if you were walking on air… that is, until you weren’t. From the corner of your eye, when passing the living room doorway, your heart came to a stuttering stop at the scene you happened upon. 

Seated on the sofa was Remus with Sirius’ laid down, his head on the tall brunette’s lap. It would have been a scene you could have easily shrugged off if it weren’t for Remus bending down so that the two could share a loving kiss. One that had Sirius running his fingers through Remus’ light brown hair, who returned the touch by tenderly gripping at Sirius’ thigh with a spare hand. You would have remained frozen there, like some petrified statue, if Sirius didn’t hum pleasantly only to have Remus chuckle against his lips. 

Hurrying to the bathroom, you struggle to get the scene out of your head as your heart breaks over and over again until the stinging pain in your chest dulls into a throbbing ache. 

If they were in a loving relationship then you were happy for them, truly…you were; they always looked so content and at bliss around each other, you felt stupid for not having put the puzzle pieces together yourself. It was just conflicting as to why they never hesitated to establish some sort of distance with you when they already had one another. They were together romantically and yet they were able to press loving kisses against your temple and wrap their arms around you with their loved one standing close by?...

“There you are,” James chuckles when you finally make it back into the kitchen, “I was starting to get worried that you somehow got lost on your way to the bathroom,” it was a weak attempt but you joined his laughter without offering to explain your whereabouts. Turning back to the sink, James returns to washing the dishes as you wordlessly get to wiping down the surfaces. He doesn’t appear to notice your sudden change in mood or, at least, he doesn’t let on that he knows; soon enough, he’s yapping away again, being his usual goofy self and drawing a smile from you. He almost makes you forget. You could always count on James to be your ray of sunshine; a happy bug who was eager to spread his contagious joy. 

Sirius and Remus were a… surprise, although you really should have known better than to not suspect anything. They’re happy though, and you’re happy for them; that’s what matters. 

It was hard to gauge whether or not you should confront them about the revelation you had about their relationship. You had to thoroughly think it over… 

There had to be a reason behind why Remus and Sirius didn’t want to tell you about their relationship and managed to get James in on it too. It must have been a very good reason. So you can’t fault them and resolve to stay silent on the matter. Their privacy needs to be respected; they’ll tell you when they’re ready, you’re sure of it. For now, you just have to act normal, as if nothing happened. The only problem was that you were left to wonder…

Why haven’t they told you? Is it awkward for them? Maybe they didn’t trust you enough? Did they think you were homophobic?��� You’re not! You fully support all types of love in all its forms and would never be prejudicial towards them because they preferred the same gender. Or maybe they did trust you but the right time just never came up? That’s also plausible. They probably just need time…yeah! Time, you can give them that; you’re a very patient person, after all—

“—Dove?” 

“H-huh?” you blink rapidly, returning to the present as Remus tilts his head at you curiously. 

“Are you okay?” there’s an amused smirk painted across his lips as he eyes you up and down, “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” his warm voice is like a comforting hug on an autumn day, one that makes you want to lose all thoughts and melt into his arms. 

“Y-yeah!” you chirp as embarrassment begins to creep in, “Sorry about that,” he laughs with you, “I guess I got distracted,” Remus nods, understanding in his eyes as he turns to the clock on the office wall.

“The both of us have been at it for a while,” he hums when reading the time, “I think we deserve a break,”

“Snack run?” 

Seeing the delight in your eyes, Remus laughs and presses a kiss to your temple. It takes everything in you not to lean away out of respect for Sirius —you still need to act as normal as possible so you don’t draw attention but it’s getting harder and harder to do so, “snack run,” he confirms, his gaze lingering on your tight-lipped smile. It’s an awkward tilt of your lips and it doesn’t belong on your usually soft and brightly beaming features, Remus thinks to himself. He wants to ruminate on it’s appearance further but files away his thoughts for another day, “let me tidy up here first and I’ll meet you out front,”

Nodding stiffly, you hurry to leave and get to the front of the parlour, where you can safely catch your breath. There, you can recalibrate your thoughts and feelings from a safe distance—

Your gradually slowing thoughts come to a grinding halt as you pass. 

What did you just see?...

Angling yourself carefully and peeking through the crack of the door, you resist the urge to gasp in horror. In an otherwise empty tattoo room, Sirius sits in his tech chair and angles himself upwards as James stands and leans down to meet the former in a sweet kiss. 

Scandalised, you cover your mouth and step away from the door, suppressing a scream as racing thoughts pour into your head. 

SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!SiriusIsCheatingOnRemusWithJames!

All breath escapes you and the world begins to spin. The charming, loyal and honest character of Sirius that you’ve built up in your head breaks apart and you’re left spiralling at the implications of his betrayal. You feel like crying and vomiting and throwing a rage-filled fit all at the same time! Wait! —No! It’s not about what you want to do it’s about what you need to do and that’s to—

It was then that you hear Remus walking down the steps behind you. Your heart jumps in your chest and your stomach caves in on itself. Leaning forward, you peek through the crack in the open door again and find Sirius carefully prepping his tools for a later appointment while James is against one wall on the other side of the room, checking something on the computer. 

Good… Remus doesn’t have to see anything… you think to yourself, although the thought alone makes your heart break all over again. 

“Ready to go?” Remus asks, approaching you with a lifted brow of curiosity. He’s probably wondering why you haven’t made it to the front of the parlour yet. 

“I-I was just thinking!…uhh,” you bite your lip and try to keep your rising panic from reflecting in your eyes. 

“Hmm?”

“I don’t really want to go on a snack run,”

“Oh?” Remus didn’t even try to hide his surprise, it wasn’t like you to not go on a snack run — so much for wanting to act normal… “How come?”

“I just remembered something-!” it was a lame excuse but you could kill two birds with one stone through this, it’ll be worth it, “-something I wanted to talk to Sirius about—”

“You called?~” speak of the devil and he shall appear. Upon hearing his name, Sirius pulls open the door and flashes his usual charming smile, which only draws a chilling glare from you. Caught off-guard, Sirius blinks in surprise, “What’s the matter, dollface?”

A taunting whistle floats through the air from behind him as James steps up and eyes your unusually angry expression, “what did you do this time, Pads?”

“I-I don’t know…” his normally confident, unwavering voice stutters and is offered cautiously, almost scared despite the tattooist standing a good few inches taller than you. 

Finding some confidence, you square your shoulders and address Remus again but keep your glare focused on Sirius, “Why don’t you and James go on a snack run while I talk to Sirius?” you almost snap out the cheater’s name from spite. You can’t believe you ever deluded yourself into thinking he was a good person that could do no wrong. He’s charmed you, Remus and James, tricked all three of you and you weren’t going to stand for it. 

The two boys jokingly wish their friend ‘good luck’ as they walk past and head out, promising to get his favourites so he can nurse his wounds from the verbal beat-down he was about to receive with something yummy. It’s clear that James and Remus don’t really believe you’re capable of delivering much vengeance or rage but the fire in your eyes tells Sirius otherwise. As soon as the front door closes behind the two, you push Sirius back into the private tattoo room before he could utter a single word. 

“You need to explain yourself, Sirius Orion Black and you need to do it now!” you demand, your voice harsh and biting, something you’ve never done in front of the boys before and catches the traitor, in your eyes, by complete surprise. Sirius doesn’t know what he’s done but he already feels incredible guilt and sorrow over it. He’s never wanted to draw out such a horrid emotion out of you; you’re only allowed to feel happiness and love and comfort. Not this. Never this…

“I-I don’t understand, princess—” he reaches for you but you step away from his touch, your piercing glare and obvious rejection stabbing a knife through his chest. You’ve never pulled away from his reach before, he’s not used to this. What did he do? He would take it all back, whatever he did, if it meant that you would lean into his touch again rather than pull away. He’d do anything to quash the evident flames of rage in your eyes. What did he do?... What did he do goddamnit?! 

“I saw it! I saw everything! You’re playing both of them!” you shout, your rage lashing out and scorching him with their intense heat. There was no holding you back, you told him everything, about how you saw his kiss with Remus and James. His eyes widen in shock before filling with horror, which does nothing but corroborate your heart breaking revelations, “I don’t want to believe it! How could you do this to them, Siri?...” your shouting voice slowly quietens and tapers off at the end, quivering like a shaken autumn leaf. So heartbroken over the fact, your rage quickly turns into sorrow and tears quickly fill your eyes, “You’re better than that, I know you are!” and you really do. No matter how betrayed you feel and having witnessed the evidence first hand, you cling onto the little slither of faith you still had in Sirius, “Please tell them the truth, they deserve the truth… they deserve you being forthcoming with them because they’re good guys,”

Looking on at you, Sirius feels his heart break. This misunderstanding was tearing you up inside and, although it makes him happy to know that you would confront him and be angry for the boys at his supposed betrayal, watching you break down, and sob uncontrollably made Sirius’ heart twist and clench uncomfortably— painfully so. 

Without a word, he reaches out again and is able to bring you into his arms. You don’t return the gesture but you make no effort to push him away either. 

“Shhh Shhh Shhhhhh, darling…” Sirius whispers comfortingly, softly patting your hair as he waits for your sobbing to calm down enough for him to come clean. Scrap the plan, whatever bullshit plan they came up with to slowly ease you into accepting their relationship before selfishly asking for your love as well. He wasn’t going to let you continue misunderstanding their relationship, especially when it’s causing you so much pain, “...this is all a big misunderstanding…” he begins softly once your cries were finally reduced to soft sniffles, “do you know what polyamory is, sweetheart?”

“...n-no…”

“It’s when more than two people agree to be in a loving, romantic relationship with each other, all at the same time,” he explains in the same soft voice, his arms never pulling away from you as he feels you slowly lose your grip on resistance. 

“Is…is that…”

“Yes, that’s the relationship James, Remus and I are all a part of…” he looks down with a gentle smile and watches you peek up at him curiously. Sirius resists the urge to swoop down and pepper your face with kisses. Just when he thought his love for you couldn’t grow any bigger, here you were being the sweetest, most caring and lovable little thing he’s ever laid eyes on. 

However, you slowly begin to shake your head and the resistance in your eyes and expression returns. This time you push him away and keep him at arm's reach. Like a scared prey animal being cornered by a predator, you inch your way back until you're pressing yourself against the wall beside the door. It takes Sirius two steps forward to finally stop and keep his place so that you don’t feel pushed or stressed by his presence. 

“I-I won’t believe you until James and Remus say so…” 

He shrugs and gives you a pained smile. He supposes he can’t blame you for being cautious and not believing him, he’s the apparent ‘cheater’, afterall. 

You watch Sirius part his lips to voice something when you hear the parlour door open and rush into the hallway to see James and Remus walk in. The two were grinning cheekily at each other and their arms were piled high with an assortment of snacks. They held true to their promise; you could spot many of Sirius’ favourites among the pile and it made your stomach twist uncomfortably. 

As soon as the two look up and see your dishevelled form, your eyes pink and tearful, your bottom lip wobbling from restrained cries and your frame closed up like a frightened clam, the snacks are carelessly disregarded and they rush to your side. 

“Dove?” Remus calls, worry evident in his voice as he steals a glance at Sirius over your trembling shoulder. The response he was given — tight lips, drawn into a straight line and unreadable eyes — wasn’t enough, however and his chocolate pools hardened into brown stone. What. Did. You. Do?... Remus silently interrogated the tattooist.

“What happened, angel?” James immediately wraps his arms around you and you almost melt into his hold if it weren’t for your need to clarify everything dominating your thoughts. 

“Are you and Remus in a relationship with Sirius?” your hesitant voice, small and fraying at the edges, speaks up but barely above a whisper. The two men visibly stiffen beside you and you feel a well of tears quickly building up again; your thoughts immediately jumping to the worst possible outcome. 

“Tell her the truth. Give her peace of mind, lads,” Sirius speaks up, his own voice lacking its usual confidence and was reduced to a vulnerable softness. 

“Yes,” Remus affirms after a beat of silence. 

“We’re all consenting, we all love each other, mutually!” James pipes up, his tone bordering on defensive despite not knowing what he’s their relationship defending from, “You…you don’t think of us differently do you?”

“No! No no no! Of course not,” you quickly elucidate your thoughts, your shoulders relaxing as you turn and meet eyes with Sirius, mustering a small smile, “it’s actually quite a relief,”

Grinning softly, Sirius steps up to explain the situation, “Dollface over here thought that I was cheating on you and James with each other, Rem,” he chuckles softly, amusement in his eyes though it still lacked their full brightness, “she gave me a good shouting to and looked like she was ready to bite my head off if I didn’t ‘come clean’ to both of you,” Remus laughs and pulls Sirius into a sideways hug as James coos lovingly at you. 

“You got angry for us, angel?” James presses his face into your hair and nuzzles you affectionately, “you’re the sweetest~” he coos, his smirk growing as he feels an embarrassed heat radiating off your cheeks. 

“St-stop the James,” you whine with an awkward smile and wiggle yourself out of his arms, avoiding his pouting lips because you know your resolve will melt away at the sight. It was confirmed. They were in a relationship, all three of them, with each other. You should be happy that Sirius wasn’t a cheater and still the wonderful man you saw him to be. But, no matter how happy you were for them, the twisting of your stomach and the gaping hole in your heart wasn’t easily fixable. 

The following weeks, you maintained the friendship you had with the boys, who no longer felt the need to limit their intimate touches around you. However, whenever they tried to initiate affection with you, as per usual, once the innocent kiss on the temple and harmless hug was now fervently being rejected by you and pushed away. You had no intention of disrespecting their relationship, even if most acts of affection you exchanged as friends were innocuous. But, then again, it was also your way of protecting your already shattered heart. Yes, you could just stay away from them entirely but you had built such a strong friendship with them that it didn’t feel right to candidly pretend that you’ve never met them before. It’ll do more harm than the harm you were inflicting now…  

Ever the observant man that he was, Remus knew the instant reason behind your hesitation and was quick to reassure you the next time you were invited over for tea. 

“It’s really okay, sweetheart,” the tall brunette hums softly as James and Sirius agree from their own seats, “we’re okay with it and you aren’t going to come in between any of us, I promise you,”

Stubbornly, you shake your head, pulling a deep frown from all of them.

“Are you not comfortable with it?” James asks with uncertainty, his question and its potential implication is filled with enough dread to make even his two lovers stiffen up. 

You nod your head ‘yes’ and they slump in their rejection. It hurt to know that the revelation of their relationship had pushed you away when the basic nature of their affair meant more love for everyone. And they wanted it to include you… Their romance that led to such an abundance of love and promises of more was now paradoxically pushing you away. For once, they didn’t know what to do, not a single one of them could come up with any idea to resolve the ever-growing tension in your relationship. It was a rubber band ready to snap. 

“If you’re uncomfortable then we’ll respect that and keep our distance, touch-wise” Remus surrenders despite the heartbreak it gives him while Sirius shoots up and sends him an irate glare, one that Remus coldly returns. It wasn’t a question of their comfortability but yours, Sirius needed to regard that to the highest degree and Remus was all too ready to make him face the music. They can’t afford to lose you and if it meant that he needed to make the hard decisions then so be it.

“Thank you,”

“...do you not want to be around us anymore?” James speaks up, not necessarily taking things to their extremes but rather potential, future escalations. He’s seen it. In the days and weeks that followed the divulgence of their true relationship, bit by bit you have begun to pull away from them to the point where James can vividly see where the escalation of your behaviour will lead and it’s frightening. One day, you’ll just disappear and that terrifies him. 

“No no…” your weak defence, lacking true resolve, ignites a shock of terrorising fear in all three of them, their eyes shaking with trepidation. But you couldn’t see it because you couldn’t look at them, like a coward. Because that’s what you are — a coward. The heartbreak was chipping away at you. You thought you would be brave enough to see them happy together but you couldn’t. Because, not only were you a coward, but you were selfish too. Green with envy, you stewed in that awful, stomach-twisting, heart-aching, bitter-tasting, gut-wrenching feeling each time you saw every loving kiss, affectionate cuddle and sweetly whispered words. 

Throughout your friendship you grew to love each of them as more than a simple friend. You know it was wrong but they were all so charming in their own, unique way. They treated you sincerely, cared for you without any sinister, ulterior motives and they’ve successfully wormed their way into your life and heart, permanently. 

What was once something that brought you such joy, warmth and feelings of safety was now mercilessly ripping you apart. 

Their dynamic looked different to you now that you were looking through a different lens. They weren’t just close friends anymore, they were very much in love and have been romantically involved for a few years now — it was one of the first things you found out about their relationship. Its longevity was a testament to their unwavering love for each other and here you were, secretly, selfishly and salaciously hoping for your own slice of the love pie.  

How dare you…

Just because you’ve had such bad luck with love didn’t mean you had the right to wish for something that couldn’t possibly become yours. You have no right to ask them for love when they are completely content with their own.  

“Please don’t push us away, dollface,” Sirius begs softly, his steel grey eyes melting into a pool of mercury. Beautiful but poisonous. Something you want but can’t have. 

“I’m sorry,” you’re breathless when you see the genuine fear in their eyes and turn away from the sight. This isn’t the time to turn weak at the knees, “it’s getting pretty late, I should go,” shouldering your bag, you get up and rush to leave their flat. 

“Stay,” Remus half commands and half begs, almost stopping you in your tracks, “please stay… we need to talk to you about something important,” if there was any time for them to reveal the truth, it was now. Before they lose you, before they drown themselves in regret, before they fall into a pit of despair, before they—

“I’m sorry…” you repeat and, just as James feared, you disappear. 

A/N : this took such a long while to write but i wanted it to be perfect, thank you so much for requesting this darling @thepunisherfrankcastle it fit perfectly into the plot although i did make some slight altercations to your request. unfortunately, there's still more to go after this so i'm going to have to leave you darlings with a cliffhanger, look out for part 5! (˵ •̀ ᴗ - ˵ ) ✧

→ NEXT. : 05 | DRUNK AND CIGARETTE SMOKE

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[emuwu]

DING DING DING !!!!!

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[kestisvrse]

proximity, part 8

luke castellan x apollo!fem!reader smau & irl

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1 WEEK HAS PASSED

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footsteps echo down the halls of the infirmary, leading straight into the supply room, that campers weren’t usually allowed in, but you let luke in.

“hey.” he said, you mirrored his grin as you stood up to stand infront of him, noticing the strap of his brestplate wasn’t tucked in properly you quickly made work of fixing it and tightening it to his chest.

he watched you with admiration as you went to stand still like nothing had even happened, “you winning today?”

“obviously, are you kidding?” he stated, causing you to throw your head back in a laugh.

“your ego is sickening”

“you like it.”

“unfortunately.” you whisper, staring at your feet, “chances i see you after the game with some cuts?”

“very high.” he says quickly, blushing at just how obvious his excitement was to see you again. he tilt his head to the side as he stared at you, pursing his lips together.

“alright golden boy.” you knew what he wanted, and still you backed away slightly, turning your back to him.

you finally admit to yourself you liked luke castellan. this past week of sneaking out to see him, finally getting to know him and realizing clarisse was right, he wasn’t that bad. it embarrassed you to admit how quickly you fell for his charms, his cute jokes and the way he fixed his hair at every second, how he stuck his tongue into his cheek when he was focused, the way his biceps looked in the sun when he was dueling—

off track. but, it was moving too fast, which he didn’t seem to care about so you cared about it for the both of you. creating distance when he got too close. he barely knew you, and he fell for your looks first which wasn’t a horrible thing, but you didn’t want to take the next step until you both knew he had fallen for everything about you.

which he had, he just got easily distracted with how easy it was to fluster you with compliments, or how easy it was to imagine how it felt to kiss you. but he didn’t mind having to prove to you just how easily you had stolen his heart, he’d convince you soon enough.

suddenly a third voice echoed throughout the infirmary, as you and luke giggled to each other in a corner. you both froze at will’s footsteps calling your name, “you here? i know i’m early but i wanted to help set up! you know how busy capture the flag day is.”

you and luke stared at each other with wide eyes, making gestures and faces on what exactly to do.

“window!” you said a little too loud

“what?” will called out

“oh nothing! just um.. opening the window for some air!” you push the latches up quickly pulling it up and shoving him through the window.

“hey chill!” he whispered stumbling out the small window, luckily facing away from the busy parts of camp.

“hurry up!!” you hissed, picking up his sneaker that had fallen off and throwing it at him, to which he caught like it was nothing, making you cheeks flush, why was something like that so attractive?

“can i get a kiss for goodluck?”

“no.” you snapped at him, he quickly ducked to the side of the building as will entered the room you stood in, you spun around eyes wide and an unnerving smile on your face.

“were you talking to someone?” he asked slowly, narrowing his eyes.

“what! no! of course not!” you waved him off, shaking your head.

“uh huh..” he said, unconvinced but he turned around. beginning to rummage the cupboards to set up, as you let out a deep breath. peeking out the window, to see luke gone.

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[t1red-twilight]

through the ages

part 2

content/warnings: gn!reader, fluff, cursing i think, mentions of spencer’s addiction, season 3, idiots in love refusing to admit they’d die for each other

notes: i love the dies irae

word count: 3.2k

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prev. part

you felt spencer nudge your foot with his own. you looked up from your book to see him staring at you with his large brown eyes. a small smile sat on his face, his lips curled up slightly. you raised at eyebrow and smiled back at him. all spencer did was shrug and continue to smile at you.

you lightly kicked his shoe back in response. you and spencer had started communicating wordlessly like this, it helped especially when either or both of you went nonverbal after a particularly long case. after tobias hankel, these nonverbal cues were becoming more and more frequent.

spencer’s head jutted to the side quickly in an effort to move you from sitting across from him to sitting beside him. he hummed briefly. almost instantly, you shot up and sat next to him; hopefully you didn’t look too eager.

linen and freshly done laundry with a hint of citrus. spencer always smelled the same, day in and day out. the consistency was something that you’d never admit that you desperately craved. while the world spun quickly around you and all but whisked you away, spencer was always there to keep you grounded. in the little while you’d known him, he’d become one of the most important people in your life. while you were still currently settling in with the team, you fit perfectly with spencer.

he nudged you with his shoulder. you looked over at him, there was a twinkle in his eye. “what are you going to do when we get back?” he asked in a hushed tone.

you looked away briefly in thought, “eh, i’m probably going to get some food and then head home.” when the jet landed there would still be about an hour of daylight, enough time to eat something that wasn’t a lukewarm coffee and day-old takeout provided by a local police precinct.

you looked back at him: there was something behind his gaze that you couldn’t quite place.

spencer’s eyes flicked away for a moment and then returned to your general direction. you quickly traced to where he had temporarily slipped away to, only to find nothing. then, he spoke, albeit timidly. “uh, do you mind if i tag along?” his voice had lowered.

“yeah!” you responded. “of course you can come. you’re always welcome to.” he visibly relaxed at this, but his reaction was so minute you almost missed it. “i don’t know what to get though. just anything but cold takeout, i think.”

spencer let out something akin to a giggle. “there’s a really good thai place by my apartment. we could have food there and you could stay the night at my place?” he questioned. you paused to pretend to think for a moment.

you noted that spencer’s hands were clasped very tightly in his lap. you brought a finger to tap your chin in false contemplation. “i think that works,” you smiled.

“good,” he smiled back at you.

later, when the jet landed, the two of you were the first off. quickly, you speed walked to your ‘96 pickup truck. (you had been meaning to look into possibly upgrading, but spencer insisted that your truck had charm; that it was never a car he had thought you’d drive.) you opened the passenger door for him before walking around to the driver’s side. you always drove, because spencer didn’t have a car. he always insisted on taking public transportation.

spencer immediately picked up the box of cds and began rifling through them. when he had found one, you had already gotten out into the main road and were in need of directions. (he had picked your only classical cd.)

“where am i going, spencer?” you asked quietly.

spencer’s shoulders had completely relaxed, and the top few buttons of his shirt were undone with his tie loosened. “it’s down the street from my apartment. we can park at my place and walk, if you’d like.” his eyes never left the road, but they occasionally found something to trail after. you, however, caught yourself and peeled your eyes away from him in order to drive safely.

you swallowed down the urge to compliment the slope of his nose or the curve of his lips. “that works. it’s better to not waste gas if i don’t have to.” your fingers tapped along to the choral notes of the dies irae. if you were going to pick any classical song, it would for sure be this one.

there was a silence, but it was by no means anxious. spencer broke it with Info dumping, something that you were beginning to notice that you were the only person who seemed to tolerate. “did you know that the dies irae originated from a poem, and wasn’t actually a song first? turn here,” spencer interrupted himself with directions before continuing. “it has since been used in many productions of musical theater and in movie scores to portray themes of death.“

you nodded before you replied, “that’s so interesting. who wrote this again?“

he swallowed imaginary saliva before speeding up as he spoke and waving his hands around excitedly. “well, it is said to have been originally written by monk thomas of celano, but this version is written by mozart.“

your brow pulled together in minor confusion. “what do you mean ‘said to have been written by him’?“ you glanced over at him briefly to see his facial expression. his face was riddled with giddy excitement.

he continued, “well, some historians believe it was actually written by saint gregory the great.” you nodded, actually interested in what he had to say. it was so incredibly fascinating that he could just recall these facts out of seemingly nowhere.

he paused again for a moment to continue to give you directions. “oh, turn here.” you grinned as small as you could.

you would never admit it, but you knew exactly how to get to his place. not in a creepy way, but just in case he needed something urgently. you’d slept over at his place once before, and been over a handful of times before that.

“just turn right into the car park, i technically have a reserved parking spot. i just never use it, obviously.” there was a sense of sarcasm in his voice. you loved when spencer was relaxed enough to become more “sassy,” rather than just being human wikipedia for the benefit of the team out in the field.

you followed his directions and pulled into the parking spot that he noted was hypothetically his. he quickly got out of the car first to walk around the hood of your truck to open your door before you could manage. thankfully, the sunlight was drifting away, so hopefully he couldn’t see the light redness that spread to your cheeks.

you pulled your keys out of the ignition and locked the door as you exited the car. when you began walking on the sidewalk, you could feel his shoulder brushing against yours. it was a soft sensation, but it made your heart skip a beat nonetheless.

your hands slightly brushed together, it felt practically juvenile that these tiny aspects of physical touch almost made you fold like a cheap suit.

the sounds of the late night city filled your ears with a gentle white noise. spencer was one of the only people that you felt comfortable in silence with. for a second, you swore you felt his pinky reach out to hold yours. you felt butterflies in your stomach, but maybe it was just something else. perhaps it was all of the takeout catching up to you. 

eventually, you reached the thai restaurant. you had seen it briefly, driving spencer home from work. “it’s kind of a mom and pop joint,” spencer spoke. “thai food has always been a comfort food for me.”

for the first time in a while, you replied and broke your personal silence. “i’ve never been here, but I’m excited to try it.” you would not remembered passing by this restaurant at all, the only reason you were excited was at spencer seemed so passionate about this restaurant. anything he was passionate about, was something that you were interested in learning about.

the jet had landed earlier than schedule, so the two of you caught the very end of the dinner rush.“table for two, please,“ spencer told the restaurant host. you had no idea, but the same flush that you had earlier was now reflected upon his face. you were both instructed to sit in the waiting room while a table opened up for the two of you.

“i don’t think that the wait should be that long. if i’m correct, we should just be catching the tail end of the dinner rush.“

spencer sat down on the bench that you had been, “the average dinner rush at this particular restaurant lasts from about six to seven thirty. we should be seated fairly soon.” your eyebrows raised slightly, but you caught them before it was too noticeable.

“how often do you come here?” your tone was teasing. you knew that spencer was a creature of habit, and this wasn’t something that you minded in the slightest.

he caught on to your tone. “not super often,“ he insisted. “i just really like this restaurant. and the average dinner rush time is roughly from six to nine,” he continued teasing.

you chortled lightly, nodding. what you didn’t notice, was the imperceptible movement that spencer made to sit slightly closer to you. your thighs brushed together gently. “spencer, party of two?” spencer raised his hand, acknowledging the staff member. he held out a hand to help you off the bench, even though it was by no means a dangerous feat. the two of you were silently led to your table.

it was a booth, a cozy one at that. the booth had nice, comfortable seating, and the table had a design inscribed on it that appeared to be similar to stained glass. you had not expected this restaurant to be as nice as it was. but, it made sense, as spencer lived in a very nice area of town.

after you were left alone, you opened the menu and glanced over the options. the restaurant had some options you were familiar with, but also some house specials. eventually, you decided on something you had had at another restaurant; tonight didn’t feel like the time to be trying something new.

“what are you going to get?“ you asked spencer. you looked over the top of your menu to see a thoughtful expression adorned across his face.

he hummed before he responded. “i think i’m going to get the chicken pad thai. that’s what i usually get.” when the waitress approached your table and asked for your drink orders, you both didn’t get anything alcoholic. spencer didn’t get anything alcoholic for obvious reasons, but you also didn’t either, seeing as you’d have to drive home later. you also felt weird being the only one drinking, you didn’t want spencer to feel left out in any way.

after your drinks had been delivered, you both decided that you were ready to order. you placed your orders and the waitress left the booth. “so, how often do you really come here?” you questioned.

he laughed quietly. “well, not every night,” he pulled his lower lip between his teeth briefly. “but just often enough that some of the wait staff recognizes me.” he looked up at you and the joy was palpable on his face. this restaurant was clearly a harbinger of joy for him, and the thought of that made you smile.

your brow raised in slight shock. “wow, so you’re a regular? do they know your order and everything?”

he shook his head in amusement, “i’m sure some of them know my order. but, i usually have to order it myself anyways.” the lopsided grin on his face made your heart just about skip a beat. his hands clasped together again, on top of the table. your hands remained resting in your lap, you tried desperately not to pick at your cuticles and anxiety.

this was just spencer. you knew him, but you had never been on a one on one dinner outing with him though. dinner outing? hopefully he didn’t think that you saw this as a date. it could possibly ruin everything that you had set up. you couldn’t risk ruining the friendship that you had with him. your current situation was working swimmingly.

by the time the waitress had brought your food back to your table, you and spencer had engaged in a conversation about what music you preferred. spencer went on about hot popular melodies from classic music were often reused in modern music. “i think my favorite use of sampling classical music is in ‘this night’ by billy joel. he sampled beethoven’s sonata number 8 pathetique. the second movement to be exact,” he stated, before taking another bite of his dinner.

your eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, what an interesting development. “you like billy joel? i thought you were pretentious and only listened to instrumentals and junk.” you tried to keep the shock out of your tone of voice.

“they’re not junk. i just appreciate the serenity that music without vocals provides me.“ while he defended himself, he still kept an air of whimsy.

you swallowed your food before you continue to speak, “yeah yeah, sure. you can try and hide your pretentious, art person persona behind some fancy words, spencer, but I know you.” you pointed at him with your fork, a smile playing at him on your face.

there was a spark in his eye, and his lips were curled up in a boyish grin. “no, I swear!” he defended, his voice raising in pitch. “billy joel is wonderful musician. my mother used to play his music all the time when i was a kid.”

“at least your mom has taste. my mom only played sixties country that all sounded the same.” you paused to take another bite of your food. “there’s nothing wrong with country as a whole, just the specific music that my mom chose.”

spencer smiled at the anecdote. “that doesn’t sound too bad. sometimes consistency is comforting.” you looked down at your food, perhaps he was right. every time that you listened to that specific type of guitar, you were reminded of the peace and joy that only childhood nostalgia could provide.

your voice dropped in volume, but only slightly. “yeah, I suppose so. i guess i didn’t like it much as a kid, but now I listen to it when I miss my mom.” a watery smile placed itself upon your lips. you often tried not to think too much about your mom, you talked about her even less.

spencer’s eyebrows together with concern. “what do you mean?” he asked. you paused for a moment. god, how you missed her. you set your silverware down on the table, and your eyes dropped.

you didn’t know how to put it, it wasn’t something that you had even fully processed yet. “it’s not something that i like to talk about,” you tried to play it off like you were that set off by his question. “it’s just been a long time since i’ve talked to her.” now that, was understatement. spencer caught on, and dropped the subject.

quickly, he changed the subject, leaning forward on the table. “well, what music do you like to listen to now?” it was easy to perceive the way that he was trying to move on from the awkward conversation topic. but, you appreciated it immensely.

you picked up before once more, and looked up for the first time in a couple moments. “i’m sure you’re aware of what music i listen to, spencer. you’ve seen my cd collection. i know of your eidetic memory,” you tried to lighten the slightly morbid tone in your voice.

he chuckled, “yes. i am very aware, depeche mode? you do have several of their cds in your cd box in your car,” he smiled again softly. you appreciated how easily he could change the topic. you knew you’d have to eventually talk about your mom, but now was not the time.

the conversation leaned on small talk, but it wasn’t uncomfortable like it had been in the past. it was nice to get to know, spencer and his little things. not the deep, intense aspects of his being; just the little things. after a small period of silence, you felt his shoe tap yours from underneath the table.

it felt juvenile. not immature in a way that was annoying, perhaps juvenile in the way that children play tag at recess. pure, and with no underlying layer of malice.

“so,” you asked, “what do you like to do in your free time?” what a stupid thing to ask.

he paused in thought for a moment. “i know this sounds boring, but i really enjoy reading. it’s really interesting to see someone’s passions through their writing. i read a lot for work, obviously. but I enjoy reading for pleasure in my free time as well.”

you took a final bite of your food, pushing your plate a few inches further onto the table. you placed your hands in your lap. what are you reading right now?” quickly you realized that this was a stupid question, spencer could read several books within twenty minutes with his reading speed.

spencer too had finished his dinner by this point, but this was important. he quickly elaborated on what he was reading, “currently, i am reading more classic authors. i never really got too invested in shakespeare. so, at the moment, i am reading through his competed works. i’m trying to read them more slowly, so I can fully comprehend what he is saying metaphorically within his work. i never had the time to read a lot of fiction when i was in school, but i’m really enjoying reading it now.”

as he spoke, the waitress approached the booth. she mentioned something about the bill, and placed it down on the table. before you could reach it, spencer snatched it off the table and placed his card down with the receipt. the waitress took the bill and walked off to complete the payment.

you looked up at him with a mixture of bewilderment and shock. “spencer, we could’ve split it. lord knows i’m already staying at your place tonight.” there was a cocky expression laid at top his face.

“well, there’s no use in worrying about it now,“ his smirk grew, “you can pay the bill next time— if you’re fast enough.” you let out a gasp of false offense.

the waitress returned with his card, and the two of you stood to leave. spencer quickly jotted down a tip, and you reached into your bag to pull out some cash for the waitress as well.

“wait,” you blurted out. spencer turned to face you, looking at you quizzically. his shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie still loose; you reached up and adjusted his crooked tie. but that didn’t stop you from at least making it more symmetrical. your fingers lingered on his chest, but only briefly. “okay, now we can leave.”

next part

[katsukikisses]

birds of a feather: chapter three [hawks x reader]

chapter summary: sixth grade is a year of changes. you and keigo learn a few things about yourselves as you prepare to enter junior high.

also, by popular demand (aka 6 people), i have made a playlist for birds of a feather. it's a wip so if you guys have any songs you think would suit this fic then please leave a comment or send in an ask with the song name, and i will add it!

chapter tags: childhood friends trope; alternating povs; feelings realizations; discussion of japanese honorific speech. this is a helpful article on the intricacies of honorifics if you are interested.

cw: obligatory mean girl steal-ur-man character; socioeconomic differences?; toomie not showing up for keigo's graduation

prefer to read on ao3? here!

prev. chapter | table of contents | next chapter

“When we were younger, We didn't know how it would be, We were the dumb, the wild, the free." — Conan Gray, Little League

“Hey, Keigo-kun, what are you wearing to the graduation ceremony?”

“I bet he’ll be wearing a hakama, since he’s traditional like that. Aren’t you, Keigo-kun?”

“At least tell us what color, Keigo-kun! Maybe we’ll match.” 

That last comment was enough to stir you from your nap. With immense effort, you lifted your head from its comfortable position on your desk and sat up straight. A bleary glance at the clock told you that there were only a few minutes left before class started, causing you to sigh—no point in going back to sleep, now. 

Vengefully, you turned towards the commotion that had awoken you, and, unsurprisingly, found your best friend at the center of it. Keigo sat at his desk at the far end of the room, surrounded by a gaggle of girls. They leaned against the windowsills and surrounding desks, getting as close as possible without overstepping boundaries. The boldest of the group, a girl named Miyake Aito, was perched on Keigo’s desk, legs swinging beneath her. When you heard her giggle at the other girls’ teasing, you realized that she’d been the one to inquire about matching outfits. Unbidden, a frown spread across your face. 

“I’m not sure yet, Miyake-san” Keigo was saying, smiling amiably. “I don’t want to be the only one in traditional wear.”

The girls were quick to assure him that No, there will definitely be others, and began to complain about how guys didn’t want to wear hakamas anymore. Keigo listened to them politely, nodding at the appropriate times, but subtly attempted to peer around their bodies. You realized, belatedly, that he was searching for you. How did he even know I’d woken up? Sometimes, it was like he had a sixth sense for all things YN-related. 

Keigo's golden eyes finally found yours and narrowed at your sleep-addled appearance. You stuck your tongue out at him in return. For a moment, the two of you remained in your little bubble, silently communicating across the room. 

Aito quickly picked up on the blonde's distraction, though, and followed his line of sight. When she realized he was looking at you, she began waving at you excitedly. 

“LN-chan!” she grinned at you. “You’re finally up! Come join us.”

The other girls agreed, enthusiastically beckoning you over. Face heating up at the attention (and at the mention of your mid-morning nap), you rose from your seat and made your way over. You stopped at the edge of the group, but Aito reached out and pulled you to her side. Her long, wavy hair, which she wore over her shoulder, tickled your bare arm. 

“Um, what’s up?” you asked, attempting to sound casual. You’d never really spoken to Aito or her friends, so the sudden proximity was a little startling. 

“We’re trying to get Keigo to wear a hakama for the graduation ceremony,” Aito pouted, as if his refusal aggrieved her personally. “Help us convince him, LN-chan!”

“Oh, I don’t know if I’d be any help,” you said, looking down at the boy in question. Keigo still had that demure smile on his face, but the subtle twitches of his lips betrayed his amusement. “He’s a real free spirit.”

Aito laughed, tightening her hold around you. “But YN-chan, a hakama would totally suit him, right? Given his whole traditional thing.” 

A few of the girls around you hummed in agreement. You looked questioningly at her. 

“His traditional thing?”

“You know, the way he uses san for everyone, and how he never calls anyone by their first name. Like, I’m Miyake-san,” Aito gestured to herself, and then to the other girls. “And she’s Nonaka-san, and she’s Kudo-san…”

And then she faced you, tilting her head curiously. “And even though you guys are close, he still calls you LN-san, doesn’t he?”

“I guess so,” you shrugged, meeting Keigo’s eye once more. Aito didn’t need to know that, outside of school, you were just YN and Keigo to each other. You’d dubbed him “Keigo-kun” practically the first time you spoke, and shortly thereafter dropped the honorific entirely. The blonde, on the other hand, took much longer to disregard formalities, and for the first six months of your friendship he exclusively addressed you as LN-san. The only exception was when your parents were around, in which case you became LN-chan and they were the sans. It took the three of you a year of insisting that he call you YN, and they oba-san and oji-san, for him to finally do so.

At school, though, Keigo still referred to you as LN-san. You didn't quite understand why until his mom overheard him call you by your given name a few months ago. Her expression had twisted into one of deep displeasure—not quite disappointment, or any other emotion one might show when their child didn’t behave. It was more like…fear. 

She’d yelled at Keigo, then, and made him apologize to you. You know better than that, she’d admonished him, We don’t talk to others like that. You remember frantically insisting he get up from his bow, alarmed and close to tears yourself. Somehow, you couldn’t help but feel that the whole thing was all your fault.

(Many months later, you worked up the courage to ask Keigo about it—why he was so proper all the time and why his mom yelled at him. Why it was okay for you to call him Keigo but not okay for him to call you YN.

He’d simply replied, “Because I’m a hybrid.”)

Shaking the memory from your mind, you realized you’d zoned out while Aito continued talking. She didn’t look happy with your noncommittal answer, and had let go of your arm in favor of turning back towards Keigo. 

“Well, if you won’t wear a hakama to be traditional,” she sighed, twirling a stray lock of hair around her finger. “Then you should at least do it for LN-chan. She’d love to see you in traditional wear.”

At this, the other girls snickered. Your face heated—you were sure you were being laughed at, but you just didn’t know for what. 

Keigo raised his eyebrows impassively. “I don’t know what you mean, Miyake-san.”

Aito leaned towards him. From her position on his desk, she could look directly down at him. “I think,” she giggled, “we all know what I mean.”

“Why don’t you tell me, then,” he returned coolly. 

A conspiratorial grin spread across Aito’s face. She had really nice teeth, you noticed offhandedly. While other kids’ mouths were still shackled in metal and rubber bands, her’s was already blindingly white and straight. 

“I mean,” Aito began, “We all know that LN-chan—”

She was cut off by the ring of the school bell, signaling the end of the period. Students immediately began taking their seats, and the teacher walked in, frowning when she saw your group gathered by the window. 

“Miyake-san, it’s quite rude to sit on someone else’s desk,” she chided, “Everyone, please return your seats. Goodness, you all are about to enter junior high, and you still can’t be ready for class on time.” 

Aito slid off the desk, mumbling an apology to your teacher and Keigo. The other girls hurriedly returned to their desks, and you began heading back to your side of the classroom. You were stopped, however, by a hand wrapping around your wrist. You looked back to see Aito at your arm, that same smile on her face. She tugged on you lightly, learning over to whisper in your ear. 

“We all know,” she giggled, “that you like Keigo-kun.”

“What about this one, YN? The blue is very pretty.” 

“No, I already wear blue on my uniform everyday.”

“Okay, then how about this one? You can’t go wrong with black.”

“No, it’s too somber. What am I, going to a funeral?”

“Alright, then, what about a two piece—”

“No!” you jumped up, shoving away the skirt your mom was dangling in front of your face. “Two pieces are for little kids—I’m literally entering junior high!”

“Right,” your mom said, “So…you’re a little kid.”

Groaning, you sank back into the plush changing room chair. Across from you, your mother exasperatedly flopped down in her own chair. The mall was blessedly empty today; otherwise, shoppers would’ve gotten a front-row seat to LN Akemi having a breakdown over formalwear.  

“Why are you making this so difficult,” your mother wailed, half-heartedly flinging a blouse at you. It landed a few feet short of your chair, on a different shirt you’d rejected. “You usually love shopping with me.”

That was true—shopping with your mother was one of the rare times where the two of you weren’t bickering and actually got along. No, for a few peaceful hours every weekend, you were united by gossip, cute clothes, and her credit card. 

“I know, I’m sorry,” you sighed, “I guess I’m just nervous about graduation.”

Your mother pushed herself up one her elbows and peered at you. “I thought you said it was just a ‘lame event’ that you ‘didn’t care about.”

You winced at your harsh words being thrown back at you. “Well, that was before…”

“Before what?”

“Umm,” you said intelligently, “Before I realized how important this milestone actually is?”

Your mother narrowed her eyes at you. You averted your gaze. 

Truth be told, it was still just a lame event that you didn’t care about. An elementary school graduation was not a great cause for celebration, in your opinion, especially since everyone would be heading to the same junior high. Still, considering recent developments, you wanted to put some effort into your outfit…

At the thought of the incident, you groaned again and shoved your face into your hands. It’d been the source of all your agony this past week, rendering you incapable of enjoying a simple shopping trip with your mom. Ever since Aiko had put that stupid thought into your head—

We all know that you like Keigo-kun. 

Well, of course you liked Keigo, you huffed internally—he was your best friend! Ever since that fateful stormy afternoon in the second grade, the two of you had been inseparable. You hung out everyday, either watching lame superhero shows at your place or playing video games based on said lame superhero shows at his. You shared every thought with him (even the stupid ones, like when you thought Algeria was in South America) and he was the first person you turned to when you needed support. You enjoyed his company better than anyone else in the universe, and when you thought of your future you couldn’t imagine it without him. So yes, you did like Keigo, because all best friends liked each other. 

But, you knew that wasn’t what Aito meant. She meant that you like-liked him, in the way that many of the kids in your class had begun to: holding hands at recess, bumping shoulders on the walk home. Calling each other boyfriend and girlfriend. Like-liked, in the way that best friends totally shouldn’t like each other. 

So did you?

You dragged your hands down your face, choosing to ignore your own question. Peeking through your fingers, you saw that your mom had left her chair to go back to shopping. She was shifting through the racks of dresses, her wedding ring glinting noticeably as she moved. The sight of it made you think about your parents’ own marriage. They liked—no, loved—each other, didn’t they? 

You tried to think if they did any of the things the couples in your class did, but came up empty. Your father didn’t like to hold your mother’s hand because he claimed it was always “unbearably sweaty”, and you think your mother would push your father into the street if he tried to bump shoulders with her. You couldn’t even remember the last time they called each other by “husband” and “wife”, preferring more intimate nicknames like “the old ball and chain” and “my trophy husband”. 

But…they showed that they liked each other in other ways. Your dad always fixed your mom a cup of coffee in the morning, no matter how late he was for his own job, because she claimed he was the only one who could make it right; and your mother never complained when she had to pick your father up from the bar, merely laughing about how he couldn’t hold his liquor. They always made time to watch “their” show together, and seemed to be in a constant competition of who could complete more of the others’ chores. So maybe it wasn’t the type of like you were used to seeing among your classmates—but it was undeniably there. 

And what about Keigo, a small, insistent voice in your head brought up, Do you see yourself “liking” him? 

You furrowed your brow, imagining the two of you in your parents’ positions. Him making you a cup of coffee, you wrangling his tipsy form into the car. Watching old Endeavor re-runs and doing chores together in a sage-colored house. And, in the way that you parents often did, leaning over to press your lips to his— 

“Okay, you cannot find anything wrong with this one,” your mother dropped a dress on your lap, snapping you out of your thoughts. You hoped she didn’t notice the way you flushed. “It’s not blue, or black, or a two-piece, or anything else you might possibly have an issue with. At least try it on.” 

Not wanting to get into another argument, you reluctantly agreed, figuring it would be no different than the others. But once you had the dress on, you couldn’t help but agree with your mother—there was nothing you could find wrong with it. It was cut from a soft, ruby-red fabric, billowing elegantly at your waist and stopping just below the knees. It struck the perfect balance between the elementary-school-innocence you were leaving behind and the mature junior high student you were about to become. 

Akemi watched you scrutinize the dress in the changing room mirror, flinging the folds this way and that—but she knew you were already sold. She’d known it the moment she spotted the dress, because it was the exact same shade of red as a certain hybrid’s feathers. 

Stifling a smirk, she opened her wallet. You could be so predictable sometimes. 

“Psst, Keigo.”

The blonde ignored the whisper, valiantly focusing on the principal’s speech. When he didn’t respond, he felt your finger begin to prod him in the back. 

“Keigo! I know you can hear me.” 

The prodding intensified. After a few moments, Keigo couldn’t take it anymore. Subtly angling his head to look behind him, he flashed you an annoyed look. 

“What?” he hissed. The two of you, alongside all the other sixth graders, were currently gathered in the school auditorium for the graduation ceremony. The students were lined up in neat rows across the stage while the principal gave a speech at the podium. With her back to the students, she remained unaware of any impropriety, but the teachers and parents in the audience had a perfect view of their actions. Plus, with Keigo standing in the front row and you in the back, it was much harder for him to get away with talking. 

“Isn’t this so boring?” you grinned at him. Keigo could feel his eye twitching—you risked getting in trouble to tell him that? He ignored you, turning back to the principal, but a hand in his suit jacket yanked him back. 

“I said I’m bored!” you whispered indignantly. “Entertain me!”

Keigo sighed. A glance at the audience told him that no teachers were watching him, and the principal was still droning on with her speech. Subtly, he shuffled backward until he dropped out of his row and squeezed into yours. The boy who'd previously been standing by you looked peeved by the intrusion, but Keigo couldn’t be bothered with apologizing. 

“What can I do to cure your boredom, m’lady,” Keigo deadpanned. 

You clapped your hands gleefully. “Well, first, let’s decide on where we want to eat after this. My parents want to go to that seafood restaurant—you know, the one on Main Street? But it’s been so popular recently, I feel like we’ll definitely see classmates who are also celebrating…”

Keigo zoned out as you described the horror of running into someone you’d just bid goodbye to. He typically loved listening to you ramble, but right now he was finding it immensely difficult to focus. Every word you spoke was enunciated with a dramatic fling of your hands, causing your dress to flutter mesmerizingly. His eyes tracked the fabric’s movements obsessively; for some reason, seeing you in red made Keigo feel all warm and gooey inside. 

“…so that’s what I’m thinking. Does that sound good?”

He blinked as he realized you’d concluded your story, dinner plans interjected somewhere in there. 

“Yeah, sure,” he said, hoping he didn’t just accidentally commit to a Michelin-star restaurant. He knew your family liked to dine at the finer places in Fukuoka, having been invited to many such outings before, but his mom would kill him if he ever accepted. It’s bad enough that I let them feed you every day, she bemoaned often, The least we could do is let them think we have inexpensive taste. With today being his graduation, though, and the fact that she couldn't be there to celebrate him herself, she had made an exception. 

Reminded of his mom's absence, Keigo wistfully turned towards the audience. He knew, logically, that she couldn’t dictate her work schedule; yet, selfishly, he wished she was here to see him graduate. 

“I’m sorry that your mom couldn’t come to this,” you said softly, noticing his sullen gaze. Keigo merely hummed in response—he’d long stopped being shocked by your mind-reading capabilities. Sometimes, he thought you were a hybrid in disguise; there was no other explanation for how you could pick up the smallest shifts in his mood and know the perfect thing to say each time. 

The principal was nearing the end of her speech now, if the generic verses about changing the world and shooting for the stars were any indication. Keigo grew restless as she droned on, eager to shed his formal wear; his suit jacket was uncomfortably small and scratchy, and the wing-slits darned into the back were constricting painfully around his feathers. He always thought the worst part about having wings was the fact that he couldn’t loan clothes—holes had to be put in anything he wore. As a result, his mom usually sprung for thinner shirts and sweaters, made from materials that were easy to sew through. His only option this time, it appeared, was a kids-size tuxedo.

Keigo stifled a laugh as he remembered Miyake's reaction to his cheap, ill-fitting suit. The girl had been chatting excitedly with her friends when she spotted him, her expression immediately twisting into one of deep distaste. She’d quickly exchanged it for a cute pout, though. 

“Keigo-kun,” she admonished, “I thought we agreed you’d wear a hakama!”

We did nothing of that sort, he wanted to say, but merely smiled placatingly at her instead. “What, do I look that bad in this suit?”

An eager chorus of Nos and Of course nots! rang back at him from Miyake’s friends. The girl herself still looked miffed, tugging unhappily on the sleeves of her red kimono. Keigo could tell that it was expensive from the detailed embroidery and silk skirts, and he wondered what it would be like to wear something that well-made. 

“I wanted to match with you, though…” Miyake looked up shyly at him through her eyelashes. He held back a snort, and was thankfully saved from answering by the arrival of their teacher. He didn’t even know how he could get out of that one… 

Cheering from the audience drew Keigo out of his memories, and he belatedly realized that the principal had concluded her speech. His classmates were laughing excitedly, and you were shaking his arm like a madwoman. 

“We did it!” you screamed, “We graduated!”

Keigo laughed—where was the girl who insisted graduation was lame just last week? Still, your enthusiasm was infectious, and he couldn’t help but smile as you jumped up and down in joy. 

For the second time that day, Keigo could feel his heart beating erratically. He really should get that checked out.

Next Chapter (coming soon!)

author's note: i told y'all that things were heating up 🤭 i hope you guys enjoyed this first chapter-- please feel free to let me know what you thought in the comments :) i can't wait to see our beloved YN and keigo in junior high!

in case y'all missed it: fic playlist!