#then they just exchanged comedy like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

brunchable · 4 months ago

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𝗠𝘆 𝗡𝗲𝗶𝗴𝗵𝗯𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝗣𝗼𝗿𝗻𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗿

Pairings: PornStar!Bucky Barnes x f!Reader Themes: Sexual Innuendo/humour,Guy next door, situational comedy? If you're not up for a few second-hand embarrassment sit this one out lol. Summary: Your coworker peer pressured you to look up SergeantBarnes in Pornhub, reason? Because apparently you're missing out. A/N: This would make a good mini series. . .but we'll see. I had a dream. . .that he was a guy next door, just wanted to-of course-add a twist to it asdfghjkl.

It was all Amy’s fault. And Trish’s. And okay, maybe you shared a little bit of the blame for caving to the intense peer pressure at work. But still.

You’d been minding your own business in the break room, scrolling through lunch menus, when Amy had sidled up, leaned in with that conspiratorial look on her face, and whispered, “Have you seen him yet?”

“Seen who?” your eyebrows creased as you asked, confused.

Trish popped up out of nowhere, clutching her latte in her hand. “Girl, SeargentBarnes. The guy is legendary—I mean, a literal internet icon.”

You shrugged, feigning indifference while they exchanged a look that practically screamed, amateur. They started talking all at once, dropping cryptic phrases like “too hot to handle,” “you’re gonna die,” and, “you’ll never look at men the same way again.”

So there you were that night, alone with your laptop, curled up in bed and biting your lip as you debated whether to type it in. It’s just curiosity, you reasoned. Research purposes.

Your eyes widened as the screen filled with… well, humanity, in all its naked, unfiltered glory. Your face heated up so fast you could’ve sworn it was the same shade as your throw pillow. Videos lined up like some weird buffet, titles more scandalous than anything you’d ever whispered in confession, and… was that a whole category devoted to delivery men? You slapped a hand over your mouth to stop from yelping, mortified at the intensity of it all.

“I need to go to church after this,” you muttered, squinting like that would somehow censor the thorough dedication people were showing in their, uh, procreation endeavors.

“SergeantBarnes,” you muttered to yourself as you typed, fingers hovering uncertainly over the Enter key. Then, with a sigh, you hit search, and… oh.

You nearly choked on oxygen. Because there he was, in HD glory, right on Pornhub, with that cocky grin and those blue eyes that looked like they’d been crafted in a lab. And he wasn’t just standing there looking smug—oh, no, he was on a mission, shirtless, flexing, and smirking at the camera like he was the world’s best-kept secret. The scene panned to him sitting on the edge of a bed, peeling off his belt with one hand, a glint in his eyes that seemed to say, this is what you came for.

“Oh my god,” you muttered, equal parts horrified and morbidly fascinated, as he proceeded to… well, get very familiar with his costar. SergeantBarnes was apparently an expert at multitasking, using every muscle, every inch of his well-equipped arsenal. And the way he was delivering lines? He was clearly treating the camera like it was his soulmate.

By minute two, your jaw had dropped. By minute five, you’d set the laptop on your nightstand to “watch responsibly.” By minute ten, you were convinced Amy and Trish had permanently ruined your life.

And the costar—she was practically putting on an Oscar-worthy performance, her reactions so intense you half expected her to start speaking in tongues. Every time SergeantBarnes’s… rod of justice plunges deep inside, she gasps like she was witnessing a miracle. You scoffed, rolling your eyes. Come on, is that really necessary?

As you watched, he gave a low, rumbling sound—half growl, half sigh—that sent an involuntary shiver down your spine. His gaze burned through the screen with a confidence that was practically magnetic, and suddenly, you understood exactly why the costar was gasping. A new, unbidden heat pooled between your legs, making you shift uncomfortably, instinctively pressing your thighs together as if that could somehow stop the flush creeping up your face. Oh no, now I wish I were her, you thought, immediately cringing at yourself.

With a mix of half-laughter and half-horror, you reached over and slammed the laptop shut so fast it was like you were trying to save yourself from spontaneous combustion.

“Holy—oh, wow,” you whispered, pressing a hand to your face. “Okay. That was a one-time thing.”

Or so you thought.

Except now, every time you even glanced at your laptop, SergeantBarnes was right there in your mind, reminding you exactly why he was internet-famous. It was becoming a bit of a problem.

× × × ×

The next morning, you stumbled out of your apartment, looking like something that had been left out in the rain and dragged through a blender, mentally cursing last night’s “research” session. The world had no right to be this bright, and your regret levels were at an all-time high as you lugged the world’s heaviest box down the hallway.

You were so absorbed in avoiding a complete breakdown that you barely registered the deep, too-familiar voice beside you.

“Need help with that?”

“Thanks, but I got it,” you muttered automatically, barely sparing him a glance.

Except...then you did.

You looked up, squinting in confusion. Because, standing in front of you, in the perfectly mundane hallway of your perfectly mundane building, was him.

You froze, your brain spinning like a buffering screen. Okay, this guy’s insanely handsome. Tall, broad-shouldered, stubbled jaw, eyes so blue they should have a health warning on them. You stared, mentally cataloging each feature, when—wait a minute... WAIT. A. MINUTE.

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion prickling as your brain finally fired up. Is that…? No, it can’t be.

But it was. Oh, it absolutely was.

SergeantBarnes, the very star of last night’s “educational” viewing, right here in the flesh. And suddenly, like a tractor beam had locked onto you, your gaze dropped right to his crotch, where you’d witnessed things you could never un-see.

This, of course, did not go unnoticed. His brows shot up as he followed your very obvious, very treacherous line of sight, glancing down at his jeans before looking back up at you with an infuriatingly smug grin.

“Uh… nice shoes?” you blurted out, your face feeling like it was on fire. You vaguely gestured to his boots, wishing you could vanish right into the walls.

“Thanks,” he replied smoothly, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. “They’re pretty sturdy. But, you know…” He paused, his voice dropping just a hair. “I don’t think they’re what you were looking at.”

Your heart sank as you forced yourself to look up, his amused blue eyes practically laughing at you. Abort. Abort mission. Oh God, we are way past mission failure.

“Uh—no, I just… um…” You floundered, desperately trying to think of something, anything, that might save you from the hole you’d dug. But no words came. Not even the faintest semblance of a coherent thought. Just one long, silent scream echoing in your brain.

“Bucky,” he offered helpfully, sticking out his hand like he wasn’t SergeantBarnes from Pornhub, but just some guy offering to help with a box. “New neighbor, by the way.”

You stared at his hand like it was a booby trap, your brain short-circuiting as it reminded you exactly where those fingers had been. That hand had gripped… things. It had been places you’d only dreamed of, doing things you’d probably need a core workout just to survive. You could practically see the “viewer discretion advised” warning flashing in your head as you hesitated, still staring at his hand as if it might explode.

But, against your better judgment—and every shred of dignity—you slowly reached out and shook it, feeling your own fingers betray you by sweating as they made contact with his very… experienced ones.

“Uh… hi… I’m… yep.” you blurted, mentally cringing.

“‘Yep’? That’s a good name,” he said, smirking as he let go. “You sure you don’t need help? You seem… a little flustered.”

Flustered? Understatement of the century. If your dignity had been a cup, it was empty, bone-dry, and cracked. You forced yourself to focus, eyes straight forward, pointedly ignoring the very tempting crotch-level view.

“I’m fine! Totally fine!” you squeaked, cringing at your own voice. Oh God, calm down!

But he just chuckled, that same dangerously cocky smile from last night plastered all over his face. “Alright, Yep. Guess I’ll see you around.”

As he turned to leave, you stood there in the hallway, clutching the box like it was a life raft, heart racing a mile a minute. You’d just had a very public staring incident with SergeantBarnes, your new neighbor, and all you’d managed to say was nice shoes.

I’m gonna need new coworkers, you thought, practically burying your face in the box as you scurried to your apartment.

The door slammed shut with a bang that could probably be heard across state lines. You dropped the box unceremoniously, ignoring the loud thunk as it hit the floor, and whipped your phone out, fingers flying across the screen like you were composing a manifesto.

Guys, you’re NEVER gonna guess who my neighbor is—

You paused, staring at the screen as the rest of the text formed in your mind: THE SergeantBarnes. LIVE. IN. THE. FLESH.

But then another thought stopped you dead in your tracks. Oh no.

You could already picture it: Amy and Trish showing up like rabid fangirls in their “I Heart SergeantBarnes” merch, carrying suspiciously flimsy plates of brownies. Trish would have binoculars. Amy would be taking notes, probably trying to “accidentally” leave her phone number under his door. You shuddered, imagining them cornering him by the mailboxes, all of them acting like they were definitely not the type of women who had his entire catalog bookmarked on their phones.

A horrible realization hit you. If I tell them, this man’s gonna be living a nightmare right next door to me. Not just a nightmare, a Trish-and-Amy-sponsored fan club nightmare, where they might even break into song—probably chanting, “SergeantBarnes! SergeantBarnes!” while he tries to get his groceries.

You looked back at your unsent message and deleted it in one go, feeling weirdly proud of yourself. Yeah, no. I’m not letting them anywhere near him.

Totally altruistic, of course. It had nothing to do with keeping the eye candy to yourself.

You took a deep breath, looking around your empty apartment like you were expecting the FBI to burst through the door at any second. Sure, you’d just been in the hallway with the actual SergeantBarnes, but maybe… maybe you were imagining things. It had been a long day. Moving was stressful. Stranger things had happened, right?

With a surge of resolve (and denial), you dashed to your bedroom, practically sliding across the floor as you went. Your laptop was waiting innocently on the nightstand, and with a quick glance over your shoulder to ensure you were still alone, you opened it up, clicked incognito mode like you were hiding state secrets, and went straight to the website you’d sworn off only hours ago.

“Alright… just to confirm,” you muttered to yourself, feeling your cheeks burn as you typed SergeantBarnes into the search bar, mentally bracing yourself for the flood of results.

And there he was. The whole page filled with him, in various… positions. You swallowed, scrolling until one video caught your eye: “Sergeant Disciplines the Bratty Recruit.”

You snorted, almost slamming the laptop shut. “Oh, for heaven’s sake…”

But curiosity was a dangerous beast, and before you could talk yourself out of it, your finger had already clicked play.

The video started, with SergeantBarnes in all his glory, wearing what looked like the world’s tightest military uniform. His face was as smug as ever, that telltale glint of mischief in his eyes as he muttered something absurd like, “Think you can handle me, recruit?”

“Oh my god,” you whispered, cringing as you half-covered your eyes but peeked through your fingers anyway.

But there was no denying it—the face, the voice, the ridiculous, smoldering look into the camera. There was no escaping it now. It was 100% him. The same guy who was now living approximately ten feet away from your own front door.

As the video continued, your disbelief only grew. This man… this man is next door, could eating cereal right now, you thought, torn between horrified fascination and the urge to laugh. Because there he was, in full “disciplinary action” mode, doing things you could barely process, and here you were, watching it again, just to make sure it was really him.

“Oh, I’m doomed,” you muttered, slapping the laptop shut. You weren’t even sure if you were embarrassed, impressed, or maybe just a little terrified of your own neighbor.

× × × ×

Over the next few days, it was like living in a twisted sitcom. Everywhere you went, he was there, lurking like some kind of sexy, mildly inconvenient specter. It was uncanny. You’d turn a corner, and bam—there he’d be, giving you that polite nod and a smirk that clearly said, I know exactly what you’ve seen.

It started small. You’d step into the elevator, praying for a peaceful ride, and ding! in he’d stroll, flashing that devastating grin. Instantly, you’d stiffen, gluing yourself to the opposite wall, practically trying to meld with the buttons, heart pounding like you were about to pass out. You couldn’t even look him in the eye without flashes of his, uh, “filmography” playing in your mind. Every single time, without fail, you found yourself studying the very clean floor of the elevator as he leaned casually against the wall, the corners of his mouth tugging up.

“Nice day, isn’t it?” he’d ask, all smooth, innocent charm. Meanwhile, you were there like, Oh, totally, perfect day to run into my favorite Pornhub star.

You were in the laundry room, blissfully alone, humming to yourself as you separated your clothes like a responsible adult. Whites here, colors there, delicates—well, you were kind of just tossing them wherever at this point. Then, suddenly, you felt it: a shift in the air, a presence. You froze, the hair on the back of your neck standing up, a sock suspended mid-toss in your hand. Why do I feel like the music should be getting dramatic right about now?

Slowly, as if sensing his approach, you turned. And there he was—Bucky, striding in with a laundry basket filled with a suspiciously pristine pile of perfectly folded, incredibly manly clothing. It was as if he’d just stepped out of some kind of… laundry commercial. Or worse… one of his own videos.

You blinked, eyes widening as a thousand clichés suddenly flashed through your mind. Oh no, why does this feel like the start of a porn? you thought, biting your lip as you realized the two of you were, in fact, very alone, surrounded by washing machines and suspiciously warm lighting. You mentally kicked yourself. Snap out of it! This is laundry. Regular, boring laundry.

Bucky caught your eye, giving you an amused once-over. “Doing some laundry?” he asked, his voice low and casual, but somehow it felt like the most suggestive question in the world.

You opened your mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Uh-huh,” you managed, trying to sound like a normal human being. “Just, uh… laundry.”

Your face felt like it was on fire as you realized half of your load was underwear, strewn everywhere. Panties, bras, socks—they were all there in their mismatched glory, practically screaming, We’re personal items! Pay extra attention! You yanked your gaze away from the pile, mortified, and flung the sock into the washer like you were trying to disarm a bomb.

You slammed the washer lid down, feeling like you’d just revealed way too much. But Bucky only grinned, strolling over with that maddening swagger. He tossed a shirt into the washer beside you, leaning against it with a smirk.

“Nice sorting skills,” he commented, eyes flicking down to the very obvious pile of bras and lace that you’d tried to hide. “Very… thorough.”

“Yep!” you squeaked, feeling like you might explode. You fumbled with the detergent bottle, struggling to open it as your brain went into full-blown panic mode. Why does this feel like one of those videos? Don’t look at him. Just don’t look. Pretend you’re alone. Pretend this is fine.

But of course, he wasn’t making it any easier. He folded his arms, watching you with a raised brow, the picture of calm while you were desperately trying to load underwear without dying of embarrassment.

“You know,” he said, clearly holding back a laugh, “usually people try to separate colors from whites.”

“Oh, I do! I mean, I… it’s a system,” you stammered, feeling like you were caught in a lie by the laundry police. “Sometimes it’s… it’s an artistic choice.”

He chuckled, his eyes twinkling with that insufferable amusement. “Artistic laundry, huh? Didn’t take you for the experimental type.”

“Yep,” you said, forcing a laugh as you stuffed in the last sock, your hands moving at lightning speed, desperate to finish and escape.

But as you turned to leave, he held up a stray bra that had somehow escaped your grasp, dangling it between two fingers with a raised eyebrow.

“You forgot this,” he said, voice dripping with that same mischievous humor.

You stared at the bra in horror, feeling your face go molten.

“Uh… thanks,” you mumbled, practically ripping it out of his hand and stuffing it into the washer, slamming the lid down one last time before you spun on your heel and speed-walked out of there.

Behind you, you heard him chuckle softly, his voice echoing in the hallway. “See you around, neighbor.”

Yep, you thought, already halfway down the hall, never doing laundry again.

By day three, it got ridiculous. You’d ducked into the mailroom, hoping he was out doing normal human things—maybe mowing a lawn or whatever. But no, as soon as you opened your mailbox, there he was, standing by his own, sorting through a stack of letters. You froze, briefly considering whether you could just flee and come back later for your electric bill.

And then… the grocery bag incident.

You were in the hallway, arms overloaded with bags because, naturally, you’d ignored the cart right by the entrance and had instead decided to carry it all in one go. You were so close to your door when you heard footsteps behind you.

“Need help?” he asked, that voice making you nearly fumble every bag in your arms.

You turned, scrambling to say, “No, I’m good,” but of course, in your panic, one of your bags tipped, and a lone, horrifying item fell out and hit the floor. You watched, paralyzed, as the little bottle of lube rolled out with an audible clatter, spinning lazily to a stop right in front of him.

You could practically feel the heat exploding from your cheeks. No. Oh no. Not like this.

You looked up, meeting his amused, slightly raised eyebrows as his lips twitched, clearly fighting a smile.

“Uh,” you choked out, unable to form a single coherent sentence. Think fast, make it sound normal, you told yourself, even though every possible explanation was racing out of your head.

He bent down, picking up the bottle with a glint of pure mischief in his eyes, inspecting it like he’d just found evidence of some grand crime.

“Hey, everyone’s got needs,” he said, deadpan, but that twinkle in his eye was anything but innocent. “Don’t worry.” He tossed you a wink, handing the bottle back like it was no big deal.

Your mouth opened, then closed, then opened again as your brain scrambled to form a sentence. Finally, the words tumbled out like a train wreck, your dignity left somewhere back at the grocery store.

“It’s… it’s for my friend,” you squeaked, clutching the lube bottle with both hands like it was a sacred artifact. He raised an eyebrow, looking entirely too entertained for your liking. “She’s, uh, she’s constipated.”

A moment of silence.

“She needs it to… you know, help with a suppository.” You forced a grin that you were sure looked more like a grimace. “She, uh… can’t get things moving. Really jammed up in there.”

Bucky’s face twisted in barely suppressed laughter, and his shoulders shook as he struggled to keep a straight face.

“Right,” he drawled, nodding with an expression that was one part pity and two parts are you for real? “That’s… thoughtful of you.”

You felt like you were overheating, a human furnace on the verge of combustion.

“She’s desperate!” you blurted, doubling down on your ridiculous story, even though every fiber of your being was screaming to stop talking. “I’m just being a good friend, you know? Supportive. I mean, she’s the one who’s backed up.”

He nodded again, still fighting a smile, the look in his eyes a mix of amusement and something else that made your pulse race.

“Sure,” he said, “nothing like helping a friend in need.” He paused, that wicked smile growing as he added, “In my experience, though, there are plenty of other uses for it.”

Your soul left your body.

He held out his hands in mock innocence, chuckling as your eyes widened to saucers.

“Just saying,” he winked. “Versatile stuff.”

And with that, he turned, strolling down the hall with a casual wave, leaving you frozen and mortified, clutching the bottle to your chest like a lifeline.

“Gotta… go,” you managed, voice barely a whisper, stumbling the last few steps to your door as you fumbled with the keys, practically falling inside.

The second the door shut behind you, you pressed your back against it, staring at the ceiling and whispering, “I’m never leaving my apartment again.”

Just as you were about to bury your face in your hands and live in the sweet, silent embrace of shame, your phone buzzed. You pulled it out, still reeling from the lube disaster, and saw a text from your friend, Clara.

Clara: Hey!! Did you get the lube?? Need it ASAP, things are… not moving over here, if you catch my drift.

You groaned, staring at the message, letting it sink in that yes, this entire disaster had been real.

You: Yes. Got it. Never speaking of this again.

Clara: Bless you, you lifesaver. My digestive system owes you a standing ovation.

You rolled your eyes, still red-faced. Clara had no idea you’d just had to explain the entire situation to your painfully attractive neighbor—who now likely thought you were a walking sitcom.

× × × ×

It started subtly—just a little teasing, or so you thought. But it quickly spiraled into a game you could only describe as Bucky Barnes: Merciless Teasing—Extended Cut. Every time you crossed paths, he managed to twist the knife just a little deeper, making you sweat, stumble, and practically choke on your own words.

The first time it happened, you were hauling a huge box out of your car, trying to look capable and independent, when he strolled up beside you, leaning against the car with a smirk.

“You act like I’m a celebrity,” he said, eyebrow cocked. “Every time you see me, you look ready to run.”

You fumbled, nearly dropping the box.

“Nope! I’m just…uh, busy!” you squeaked, scrambling to walk away at top speed, box clutched to your chest like a shield. But you caught his laugh as you rushed off, making you want to evaporate on the spot.

The next time, you were in the stairwell, headphones in, desperately trying to avoid any more awkward run-ins. Naturally, the moment you looked up, there he was, lounging at the landing like some kind of paid actor in a commercial. You froze mid-step as he raised a brow.

“Look at that,” he said, giving you the once-over, “you look like you’ve seen a ghost every time you see me. Is it something I did?”

You stammered, turning pink.

“No! Just, uh… headphones! Music! Loud music!” you blurted, before speed-walking up the stairs, praying he didn’t hear the Spice Girls song you’d been blasting. Behind you, his chuckle echoed up the stairwell like the final taunt of a villain.

But the absolute worst came at the coffee shop.

You were in line, looking at your phone, hoping you could just breeze in and out. The moment you placed your order and turned to leave, there he was, standing right behind you, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

“Hey, neighbor,” he drawled, eyeing your coffee cup like it was some incriminating evidence. “Funny running into you here. Or… do you keep running into me?”

Your face flushed, and you tried to think of something clever, but it was like all your brain cells had gone on vacation.

“Nope! Definitely just getting coffee! I don’t even… live near here!” you babbled, immediately regretting everything.

“Oh, interesting,” he replied, his grin widening. “Because I could swear you live right next door. But hey, if you want to keep pretending you don’t know me, I’ll go along with it.” He handed you your coffee with a wink. “See you around… or not.”

But things took a turn for the mortifying when, one evening, you were pacing the hallway on the phone with Clara, trying to vent without actually collapsing in a pile of awkwardness.

“It’s him, Clara!” you hissed, oblivious to the fact that you were pacing right outside Bucky’s door. “I’m living next door to SergeantBarnes! Can you believe this? I’ve seen everything he has to offer! I’ve practically studied him!”

Clara was howling with laughter, but you were too wrapped up in your frustration to care.

“And he knows, Clara! He keeps showing up everywhere, saying stuff like, ‘You seem nervous’ and ‘You keep looking at me like you know something I don’t.’ I swear, he’s doing it on purpose!” You paused, sighing dramatically. “The man is basically torturing me!”

“Yeah?” Clara snorted. “And what are you gonna do about it?”

“Nothing! I’m gonna hide in my apartment forever! I mean, the guy is—” You froze mid-sentence, sensing a presence that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Please, for the love of all that is holy, no.

You slowly turned, and there he was. Bucky. Leaning against his door, arms crossed, looking like he’d just won the freaking lottery.

“Oh… my god…” you whispered, feeling your soul leave your body. He was watching you with an expression of pure, unfiltered amusement, one eyebrow quirked, lips pulled into that infuriating, knowing smirk.

“Well,” he said, voice laced with mischief. “That makes one of us.” His eyes glinted with barely-contained laughter. “And here I thought you were just a fan of my boots.”

You could practically feel your brain cells going up in smoke.

“I… uh… well… I…” you stammered, cheeks burning. “Boots… are great,” you managed, wanting to sink into the earth.

“Yeah? Because I seem to remember you looking… elsewhere last time,” he teased, stepping a little closer, enjoying every second of your embarrassment.

“Oh, no! Just… boots!” you squeaked, backing up, practically tripping over yourself. “I really should go… water my… uh… plants!”

He chuckled, savoring every second of your panic. “Good luck with that,” he said, throwing in one last wink as he slipped back into his apartment, leaving you in the hallway, feeling like you’d just gone through a slow-motion car crash.

Back in your apartment, you slid down the door, hands over your face as Clara’s laughter erupted over the phone.

“Boots?” she howled. “THAT’S what you went with? Boots?”

You groaned, banging your head back against the door. “Shut up, Clara.”

× × × ×

Determined to reclaim a shred of your dignity, you strode into the local coffee shop, praying for a quiet morning with zero embarrassing encounters. But, as if on cue, the universe had other plans.

There, right at the counter, was Bucky. He spotted you instantly, his face lighting up with that all-too-familiar grin that had haunted your dreams. There was no escape.

He waved you over, and before you could even think of pretending you hadn’t seen him, he was calling out, “Morning, neighbor! What’s your coffee order again?” His voice was loud enough that half the shop turned to look.

“Oh, um… it’s…” you stammered, but he’d already waved to the barista.

“Got it covered,” he said, leaning casually against the counter, eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’ve got a feeling you like it with extra cream.”

You choked on your own saliva, feeling your face turn crimson as he handed you the cup with a wink.

“Unless I’m wrong?” he added with a smirk, feigning innocence.

“N-Nope, that’s right!” you managed, grabbing the cup like it was a shield. “Extra cream… perfect.”

He chuckled, gesturing to an empty booth in the corner. “Great. Then you won’t mind sitting down with me for breakfast.”

“Oh no, really, I should—”

He raised an eyebrow. “What, got somewhere better to be?”

You froze, helplessly aware that the entire coffee shop was listening in. You managed a nervous laugh, mumbling, “Well… no, I guess not…”

Before you knew it, you were sitting across from him, desperately trying to keep your eyes anywhere but his face, your cheeks burning as he sipped his coffee and watched you with a smug smile.

“So,” he said, leaning forward, “what’s a girl like you doing watching a guy like me online, anyway?”

Your jaw dropped, coffee cup halfway to your mouth. “I—I wasn’t watching—It was research!” you spluttered, already kicking yourself for falling right into his trap.

He chuckled, clearly reveling in your embarrassment.

“Oh, sure, ‘research,’” he said, nodding like he totally believed you. “I get it. You know, it’s important to be informed.”

You practically shrank into your seat, glancing around to see if anyone else had heard. “Could you not say that so loudly?”

He smirked, taking a long, deliberate sip of his coffee.

“Relax, I’m just curious,” he said, leaning in close enough that you could smell his aftershave. “Gotta say, it’s a little flattering to have a fan right next door.”

Your brain completely short-circuited. “Fan? I—no! I mean, not like that… I… I barely even…” You could feel the lie crumbling in your throat as his smirk deepened.

“Uh-huh. Then why did you look like you were about to sprint every time you saw me?” He tilted his head, studying you, eyes twinkling. “And I swear you turned pink the second you walked in here.”

Your hands shot up, covering your cheeks. “I did not! You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” he said, leaning back with a satisfied grin. “Because it’s like clockwork. Every time I’m around, you look like you’ve been caught red-handed. I don’t mind, you know,” he added, shrugging nonchalantly. “I’ve got nothing to hide.”

You let out a strangled laugh, ready to crawl under the table.

“That’s… obvious,” you muttered, feeling as though you might combust at any second.

“Okay, so since we’re having breakfast together, how about you tell me: any favorite scenes?” He laughed, looking entirely too amused as he stirred his coffee.

You practically choked on your coffee, face flaming as you tried to hide behind your cup.

“I—I can’t believe you just asked that!” you squeaked, horrified and unable to meet his gaze.

“Oh, come on,” he grinned, clearly enjoying every second. “It’s just small talk. I mean, who better to ask than a neighbor?”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Can we please pretend this conversation never happened?”

“Nope. Can’t do that,” he replied, laughing. “I think it’s a little late for that.”

Just as you were starting to pray for an earthquake to swallow you whole, you glanced up at him, cheeks still flaming.

“Did you… did you know I recognized you this whole time?”

He leaned back, a satisfied smile spreading across his face.

“Of course I did,” he said, laughing. “Figured it out the second I saw that look on your face. I just wanted to see if you’d ever bring it up.”

“Oh my god,” you muttered, feeling mortification seep into your very bones. “And you kept messing with me?”

“Of course,” he said, raising an eyebrow with a wicked grin. “I was just waiting to see how long it would take for you to crack. Guess now the ice is broken, huh?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, shaking your head. “You’re the worst.”

He winked, finishing his coffee. “Yeah, but I make breakfast interesting, don’t I?”

You laughed, feeling the last traces of embarrassment fade away—well, at least enough to breathe normally again. But just as you started to feel almost… comfortable, Bucky tilted his head, giving you a curious look.

“So, neighbor,” he said, smirking, “I’ve gotta ask… what’s your name?”

You blinked, realizing with a jolt that you’d never actually told him. In all your attempts to dodge, deflect, and survive the relentless teasing, you hadn’t even bothered to introduce yourself.

“Oh… right,” you mumbled, feeling your cheeks heat up again. “I, uh, guess I never actually said.”

“Nope,” he replied, leaning in with a grin. “I just assumed you wanted to keep a little mystery between us.”

You rolled your eyes, though a smile tugged at your lips. “Trust me, I’m not that mysterious.”

“Really?” he replied, eyebrows raised. “Because all this time I’ve been calling you ‘Yep.’”

Your face went red as you remembered the first time you’d stammered a barely coherent “yep” instead of an introduction. “Oh my god. You haven’t been calling me that in your head this whole time, have you?”

He shrugged, smirking. “It’s kind of cute. Suits you, actually.”

You groaned, but laughed despite yourself, finally holding out your hand across the table. “Alright. I’m Y/N. Officially.”

“Y/N,” he repeated, taking your hand, his grip warm and firm. His smirk softened into something a little more genuine. “Good to meet you, Y/N. Officially.”

His hand lingered in yours for a beat longer than necessary, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no innuendos—just the two of you, sitting across the table, smiling like two normal people who’d just met under… semi-normal circumstances.

Then, just as you were starting to think maybe, just maybe, you could get used to this weirdly charming neighbor situation, he leaned back, that mischievous glint creeping back into his eyes.

“Now that we’re on a first-name basis,” he said, winking, “you can tell me all about your favorite scenes. You know, for professional feedback.”

You burst out laughing, face in your hands as he watched you with a triumphant grin. Yep, you thought, already regretting nothing and everything.

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chelseeebe · 7 months ago

Text

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here.

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?”

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking.

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.”

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?”

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.”

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.”

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched.

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room.

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it.

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message.

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something.

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much.

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave.

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now.

not if you were sleeping in his bed.

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it.

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done.

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly.

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process.

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips.

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.”

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze.

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation.

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie.

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house.

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre.

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered.

tonight it’s different, you get to pick.

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it.

you land on edward scissorhands.

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble.

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath.

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way.

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary.

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on.

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you.

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone.

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive.

it’s torturous.

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding.

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night.

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know.

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land.

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act.

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core.

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour.

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case.

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him.

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief.

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips.

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red.

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears.

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt.

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand.

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?”

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was.

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up.

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?”

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off.

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away.

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek.

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window.

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?”

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started.

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out.

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please.

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him.

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article.

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,”

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making.

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did.

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across.

if only she knew.

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria.

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now.

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties.

eddie can’t take it anymore.

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer.

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure.

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport.

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women.

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand.

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down.

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful.

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones.

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much.

“you want some help with that?”

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion.

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs.

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager.

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame.

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric.

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house.

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin.

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking.

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears.

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was.

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch.

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere.

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house.

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute.

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life.

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

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kabuki-writes · 3 months ago

Text

An Entertainment For The Gods

chapter: 2 chapter 1 | 3 | 4

pairing: emperor geta/emperor caracalla x acacius' daughter!reader

summary: Through an invitation from the Emperors themselves General Acacius and his daughter attend one of the bloody Gladiator fights at the Colosseum. But this time it is not only the brutality of the arena that encaptures Geta and Caralla.

Note: -

word count: 2.5k

There was no bigger temple in Rome than the Colosseum. A monument to the Roman Empire, an architectural masterpiece as well as a slaughterhouse for humans and animals. They had to die for the amusement of the masses in the pale white sand and under the eyes of the Roman citizens as well as the Emperor's. You've never visited the arena before, it just wasn't the entertainment you usually seeked as you fancied the amphitheater and stage plays of comedies or tragedies. No one really died from a well-spoken dialogue and the stages weren't drown in blood afterwords. Your father was a similar soul with this. As someone who had seen war and death countless of times, Acacius developed a distaste for the useless killing, which he argued was the mere core of the collosseum's existence.

But while one would despise this form of humanity at its core brutality, other's simply loved it. First under Commodus the fights in the arena became more frequent, while Septimius Severus after him didn't change anything in that matter. Under Geta and Caracalla however Gladiator fights reached an all time high, especially those 'special' spectacles with exotic animals or ships. They themselves had an own Gladiator school under their wings, which was due to their wealth filled with the most skillful warriors and the best equipment, that it was almost unfair.

Given the fact that both twins enjoyed the performance in the arena and the bloody outcome, it wasn't surprising that they were frequent visitors. For the Emperor the colosseum had an own arena box with the best view over the inner pit and with two throne like chairs for each one of them to sit comfortably. It wasn't unusual for them to have guests here either and this time it was a special one. The moment Geta and Caracalla stepped out, the masses greeted and cheered for their Emperors, who - at least in Rome - offered them bread and games to forget the common sorrows of life. Both of them were dressed in the finest, colorful fabrics, while their golden laurel crowns throned on their heads. They waited for General Acacius at the balustrade to come forward, join them and speak to the people. He was still their celebrated hero, their triumph card, so to speak. It was an easy way to win the hearts of the people through a figure like Acacius, who was the ideal Roman.

After your father held a small, yet powerful speech about the braveness of the Gladiators they'll see today, a slave went forward to place a cushioned chair between the thrones of the Emperors. You hesitated a second, since usually you would be seated at the side of your father. "Since we've heard that you had never witnessed a fight in the arena befoe, we thought you might like a good view", Geta suddenly explained to you, before he sank into his own chair. "Please, sit down."

Your eyes went to your father for a quick exchange and you saw in them how he displeased this way of treatment, yet he nodded and you sat down. More and more you understood that the situation had a differnt tone in it. It wasn't mere courtesy why the Emperors treated you like that and given the way you'd read their eyes, it was more than clear that you've captured their interest. Usually any woman of the realm would fight for that privilege, but you had seen how your father acted in front of them, how worried he was when you first made your way to the palace - something was off. You knew you needed to pay attention and be cautious.

"Citizens of Rome, the arena welcomes you! Emperor Geta, Emperor Caracalla, we the people bow to your greatness and the mighty of our beloved Empire! Under the eyes of the sun the colosseum presents to you a spectacle like no other!", the high-toned, yet thunderous voice of the richly decorated announcer set the beginning of the show and drew all eyes on the white sand down in the arena pit, where a group of men in armor but with a limited equipment of weapons entered through a door from the Colosseum's catacombs. "First we present to you the brave Gladiators that will be our Theseus' today! They may not need to save their Ariadne, but they'll still have to face horde of Minotaurs today in an attempt to safe their own lives!" With those words a couple of other doors opened and six wild bulls entered the arena. Their massive and strong bodies stirred up the sands with every step of their big hooves. They may've been animals, but they had terrible weapons on their head with sharp horns that grew out of their heads.

Caracalla clapped with a joyful laugh. "Oh i love mythological pieces, even though they forgot the labyrinth!"

Your fingers nestled with the fabric of your dress in nervousness as you watched the men prepare themselves for the attack of the angry bulls, which were already pawing with their hooves. More than one set off to ran towards the Gladiators and given the fast but powerful movements of those animals, it didn't take long until the first fighter got overrun by them and another one faced the horns that drilled themselves like spikes into his torso, where blood spilled like a waterfall. The other fighters tried their best to ran or face the bulls with the few weapons they'd been given. One of them even striked down a beast by pressing his sword into its neck, when it was running towards him. You watched the spectacle with a neutral, yet pale face, while the Emperors seemingly enjoyed the show. Geta quickly noticed the way you followed the happenings down in the arena and leaned towards you.

"Are you not entertained, y/n ?", he asked you in a low voice, still loud enough to overcome the cheerings of the crowd. Your eyes went to him, facing the deep blue of his own, while you tried to put on a mask of apathy. "It is hard for me to understand, why useless killing is viewed as entertainment, I'm afraid," you answered, but it just got you an amused smirk in return.

"Oh it is not useless. You see, nothing is as entertaining as humanity itself. What lies more in our human nature than violence, power and the survival of the strongest? Without that, your father wouldn't be able to win all his great victories and our father would not have been able to secure the Roman Empire after the weak reign of the senate."

"And yet Emperor Marcus Aurelius believed that true strength isn't born in violence, but in mindfulness and kindness. The ability to speak, think and therefore to thrive for something higher than mere survival, is what distinguishes us from animals," you responded in a clear, settled tone. This sudden response surprised Geta clearly as his eyes widened and his fingers tensed up. Even Caracalla's eyes had left the arena for a moment and were locked at you. Even though he followed the fight down there, one of his ears had catched every word you'd said. What a sweet, naive woman you were... it made this whole moment even more interesting.

The corners of Geta's mouth twitched and at first you weren't able to tell if he found your words disrespectful or not. In fact, he'd not expected such a bold answer from a woman, especially not against an Emperor. And even though he wouldn't agree with you, it proved him right, that you were not a simple-minded girl. Naive maybe, but not dull.

"Interesting thought, my dear. But would you recite the words to one of these brave warriors down there too? Who will ll earn their freedom, if violence keeps them alive long enough? We offer them a precious gift, and in return they entertain us."

Your eyes went to the pit again, which was mottled in deep red blood now with only one man and one bull remaining. The moment was intense as both animal and human watched each other with intensity, before the bull stormed forward and the speer of the Gladiator, who waited for the perfect moment, hit his opponent. The massive body fell to the ground and the people cheered in Ecstasy. Geta and Caracalla clapped with admiration for the celebrated Gladiator, as he sunk to his knee and bowed to them.

The next round began after the exhausted and wounded 'hero' stumbled through one of the doors, back into the darkness of the catacombs, before he was replaced by a bigger group of Gladiators, who now had to face armed chariots. Their opponents wore the armory of old Sparta while they teared down one after one with their arrows. You leaned back in silence, watched by Caracalla, whose eyes were taking in her side profile for quite a while now. Even though he loved the fights down there, the blood, the violence... you encaptured him more right now. Your stern face, which carried a deep displeasure for this, while you tried so hard to hide it, it was captivating.

Everyone, even his own twin tend to underestimate Caracalla. Even though he was born a couple of minutes earlier than Geta and was therefore technically older than him, his stature was smaller and he wasn't as tall as his brother. This was accompanied by the fact that he enjoyed the pleasantries the god Bacchus had to offer him: wine, music, arts and sex - even more than Geta did. Together with his rather impulsive way of acting, it often led to the false thought that the more capable brother of them was Geta. Oh, Caracalla hated this, it was a misinterpretation weaved like a thread through his whole life. Because he had a gift, he could read people and together with his extensive web of information sources and spies within the city of Rome and beyond, he had a power that lied in the dark. And it was a preparation he did on purpose after he'd learned about the plot that was once set against Emperor Commodus. Some would've said it was paranoia, maybe it was, but he would call it 'preparation'. Nonetheless it came with the pleasant side effect of knowing a lot about the people around him.

"I've heard that you rather choose the theater over the arena", he said with a soft, yet unreadable smile on his lips. "You're a dreamer, aren't you?"

As you heard his voice next to you, your eyes quickly turned to him. "There is nothing wrong with dreaming, my Emperor...", you answered and he nodded quickly as if he'd hoped for that answer. Caracalla even grinned, his golden tooth gleaming in the light. "No, not at all." My Emperor. The way you've said it with your eyes looking at him. It electrified him, so much so that the cheers of the crowd almost faded in the background. You'd faced the pit and the fighters again, but he was still staring at you.

"Which play?"

"Octavia," the name almost shot from you mouth.

"And you consider yourself to be?"

"Octavia. And you?" You didn't even expected him to give you an answer on that, but meanwhile Caracalla's grin grew wider.

"Nero," he said just as fast as you'd answered before.

Your eyes instantly went back to the Emperor, whose eyes were now focused on the deadly fight between a Gladiator and a chariot rider. He couldn't hold back a chuckle, while he watched how the man pushed his sword through the neck of his opponent, ripping off his head.

Nero.

"Why?", you suddenly asked, this time it were your eyes, that watched him.

"I cannot blame him for setting himself free." His answer was almost like a whisper, yet you heard every word. It was a very unconventional way of interpreting the mad Emperor, one she herself would even despise, if he wouldn't seem to be so certain of it. It meant something more.

The arena fight slowly came to an end, when only to oppontents were fighting for the right to claim the victory. Nearly all of the Gladiators and chariot riders were dead, their bodys laying in the pale sand and drowining it with their blood, a weird composition of death that accompanied your questions about Caracalla's answer.

After a final hit, one of the men went down on his knees. He was wounded, severely, and he now felt the tip of a sword against his neck. He surrendered and the gods had to decide what will happen with him. One of the Gods was Geta, who stood up from his chair and approached the balustrade, while the crowd called for a decision. The Gods need to decide, yet Geta suddenly turned his head to you. "What do we say,...? y/n, should he live or die?"

Your face grew even paler than it already was, your fingers were almost digging themselves into the armrests of your chair. You felt a thousand eyes on you, even though it was only Geta and Caracalla watching you, as well as the eyes of your father from behind. The Gladiator waited, while his opponent's arm was cut off and his head was bowed down as if he awaited death. And the crowd screamed and screamend. Death, Death, Death, Death, Death.

It rang in your ears, you didn't want to make this decision. But the moment you faced the Emperor, just as you opened your mouth, Geta simply bowed his thumb down - Death.

And the sword went down. Death.

The head dropped in the sand followed by the body, the cheers errupted in the arena, screaming the name of the victorious Gladiator. But you just stared into the nothingness that was in front of you, while you bit your tongue to the point of pain. "Don't pain yourself about this, my dear. There was only one answer anyways," Geta said while he suddenly reached out for your hand and kissed your knuckles, before he took his glass of wine. You didn't move, you couldn't.

Caracalla stared at this scenery and his fingers were shaking as his eyes darkened. The intense urge came up his mind: To simply take his brother and throw him from this box into the pit, his neck breaking from the impact. Those thoughts sometimes came and went, but they got more intense every time he saw Geta interacting with you. And this interaction hit a new high point in him that was only interruped by your form the moment you stood up.

"My Emperors, it was a pleasure to join you, but i need to leave now...", you said in a tone that tried so hard to be polite and not carry any emotion, before you turned your back and quickly stepped out of the imperial arena box, followed by your father General Acacius, who bowed and excused himself in an equally neutral tone.

Both Geta and Caracalla watched them leaving, before the taller one of the twins took a deep sip of his wine. "She'll learn to love it sooner or later."

______________________________

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jungwnies · 14 days ago

Text

F1 GRID | taking away their food - tiktok trend

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, charles leclerc, lando norris, oscar piastri (comment if you'd like to see other drivers or feel free to drop into my inbox!) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested) : taking away their meal while they are still eating to see their reaction...

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : word count : 3490

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : when i tell you i love these tiktok trend requests, i love them...! <3

ʚ・max verstappen

you and max were on vacation at a beautiful beachside resort. unlike max, who preferred to stay offline, you were chronically online and had seen the recent trend of taking away people’s food while they were eating. what better way to have some fun than to try it on your husband?

max had a relatively short temper, but he was always patient with you. that’s why you couldn’t wait to see his reaction when his food was suddenly taken away…especially in an expensive restaurant.

after placing your orders, you excuse yourself. “i’ll be right back, babe, just have to use the restroom.”

instead, you hurry over to your waiter, who isn’t too busy at the moment. slipping her a generous tip, you ask, “while he’s eating, can you take away his food?”

she laughs, immediately catching on. “i’ve seen the trend! i’d love to do it—especially to max.”

trying to contain your excitement, you make your way back to the table, casually setting up your phone to record. the food arrives, and you both dig in.

as you eat, you casually chat about the upcoming f1 season. “are you excited?” you ask between bites.

“yeah, but testing is gonna be interesting. new regulations could change a lot,” max replies, focused on his food.

then, right in the middle of a bite, the waiter swoops in and takes his plate away.

max freezes. you bite your lip to keep from laughing.

“what the hell?” you say, feigning confusion.

max blinks before his expression shifts. “yeah, what the hell? i want to speak to their manager. what are they, fucking idiots?” his voice rises, his irritation clear.

that’s it—you can’t hold it in anymore. not wanting the staff to get in trouble, you call the waiter back, who quickly returns with his dish. “my apologies,” she says, trying to keep a straight face.

before max can get another word out, you burst into laughter. “it was just a prank, my love. an extremely funny one at that.”

max sighs, shaking his head. “you know i was hungry…”

you roll your eyes. “we had a snack before coming here. don’t lie.”

he huffs, but you can see the corner of his mouth twitching. “you’re lucky you’re my wife and not another driver.”

you grin. totally worth it.

ʚ・lewis hamilton

“are you excited to see the family again?” you ask lewis as you adjust your dress, glancing at him through the mirror.

lewis nods, holding out his tie. “always excited,” he says, smiling as you step closer to help him fix it.

you both make your way to the family dinner, where you're greeted warmly. everyone loves lewis so much that they always prepare a vegan-friendly meal just for him—without making a fuss about it.

at the gathering, you and lewis naturally drift apart. he’s with your father and uncles, deep in a discussion about sports, while you join the women in the kitchen, chatting and catching up.

your cousin pulls you aside, giggling. “have you seen that tiktok trend where you take their food mid-meal just to see their reaction?”

you smirk, already plotting. “oh, i have an idea.”

once everyone is seated and eating, conversation flows easily. then, mid-meal, you casually get up, walk over to lewis—who’s completely engrossed in a conversation with your uncle—and, without a word, take his plate away.

you turn on your heel and walk straight to the kitchen, leaving him staring after you, utterly speechless. the entire table falls silent. the women bite their lips, trying not to laugh, while the men exchange confused glances.

lewis clears his throat, placing his napkin down. “if you all will pardon me for just a second.”

he follows you into the kitchen, where he finds you at the sink, rinsing a plate. his brows furrow, but there’s amusement in his voice. “love… what are you doing?”

you don’t turn around just yet, keeping up the act. “what do you mean? i thought you were done.”

lewis tilts his head, his expression both concerned and affectionate. “darling, i’d barely even touched my food.”

you finally turn to face him, biting your lip to keep from laughing. “i know,” you admit, pulling his plate out of the microwave with a grin. “i just wanted to see your reaction.”

lewis exhales a deep sigh, crossing his arms. “and what exactly did you think was going to happen? that i’d sit there, starving, while you pranced around with my dinner?”

you shrug innocently. “honestly, i thought you’d be more dramatic. maybe throw a little fit, demand justice, give a speech about how a man’s meal should never be taken from him.”

lewis raises a brow, lips twitching with amusement. “oh, so you expected a whole performance?”

you nod. “at the very least, i thought you’d stand up on your chair and make a passionate plea for your food’s return.”

lewis chuckles, shaking his head as he steps closer. “you’re trouble, you know that?”

you hand him back his plate with a cheeky smile. “and yet, you married me.”

he takes it, setting it down on the counter before pulling you into his arms. “mm, don’t remind me. i think i should’ve put ‘no pranks’ in the vows.”

you gasp in mock offense. “excuse me? that would’ve been a dealbreaker.”

lewis laughs, resting his forehead against yours. “then i guess i really am stuck with you.”

you grin. “lucky you.”

he shakes his head, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before picking up his plate. “lucky me, indeed. now, if you’ll excuse me, i’d like to actually eat my food before you come up with another ridiculous idea.”

you smirk, watching as he walks back to the table. “no promises.”

ʚ・george russell

george loves your home-cooked meals. after a long day of racing and testing, he always comes home with an empty stomach, ready to devour whatever you’ve made.

and lucky for him, despite spending most of your day rotting in bed on tiktok, you still managed to cook one of his favorite meals. so, when he walks through the door, you greet him with a warm smile, already setting the table.

“smells amazing,” he sighs, dropping a kiss to your forehead before heading off to freshen up.

once he’s cleaned up and comfortable, you both sit down and start eating. conversation flows easily as he tells you about his day—mostly car talk that you only half understand but love listening to anyway.

then, mid-meal, right when george is in the middle of a big bite, you casually grab his plate and stand up.

“i’ll just be right back,” you say nonchalantly, walking toward the kitchen.

george freezes, fork in midair, watching you disappear with his food. at first, he just blinks, processing what just happened. then, he calls after you.

“love?”

you stay silent, waiting.

another second passes.

“babe?” his voice is a little more confused this time.

still nothing from you.

now you hear his chair scrape against the floor as he gets up, followed by hurried footsteps coming toward the kitchen. you grab a spoon and take a big, dramatic bite of his food just as he walks in.

he stops in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring at you like you’ve just committed the ultimate betrayal.

“love,” he says, slow and measured, “what are you doing?”

you make a big show of chewing, eyes closing as you hum in satisfaction. “mm. wow. this is really good.”

george blinks, looking between you and his stolen plate. “yeah, i know. that’s why i was eating it.”

you sigh, shaking your head. “honestly, i don’t think you appreciated it enough. i just had to double-check how good it was.”

he folds his arms. “by eating my dinner?”

you nod, taking another bite just to test his patience.

george lets out a long, dramatic sigh, dragging a hand down his face. “after everything i’ve done today—hours of training, media, testing—this is how you treat me?”

you smirk. “think of it as a lesson in patience.”

“oh, i’m very patient,” he argues, stepping closer, eyes narrowing. “but i will be getting my food back.”

before you can react, he lunges for the plate. you try to dodge, but george is quicker. he snatches it back, holding it above his head like a trophy.

“ha!” he exclaims victoriously.

you pout. “that was rude.”

george smirks, taking an exaggerated bite right in front of you. “oh wow. this is really good.”

you gasp. “now you’re just mocking me.”

he winks. “just had to double-check how good it was.”

you groan, swatting at him as he laughs and walks triumphantly back to the table, plate in hand.

“love you,” he calls over his shoulder.

you huff, crossing your arms. “yeah, yeah. enjoy your stolen dinner.”

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos thought of you as a saint—you could do no wrong in his eyes. and honestly, you could probably count on one hand the number of times he’s gotten mad at you… actually, scratch that. it’s zero.

this man loved, and he loved hard.

one of your favorite things to do together was cooking, but nothing beat grilling outside when the weather was hot. it became a little tradition—firing up the grill, making burgers, and just talking about the most random things.

today’s topic? trying to convince carlos to leave formula one so he could stay home with you every day.

“mi amor, that sounds like a great idea, but…” he gestures dramatically toward your beautiful backyard, “we would not have a home if i did that.”

you sigh dramatically. “we could live a simple life. maybe raise some chickens, grow our own vegetables…”

carlos gives you an amused look as he flips a burger. “you scream when a bug lands on you. you think you’re ready for farm life?”

“fair point.” you nod solemnly, making him laugh.

once the burgers are ready, you both sit outside on the deck, enjoying your food and the warm evening air. conversation flows as usual—lighthearted, full of teasing and laughter.

then, mid-bite, right when carlos is at peak burger enjoyment, you casually reach over and take the burger straight from his hands. not the plate. just the burger.

you don’t even wait for his reaction before standing up and walking into the house, taking a big bite as you go.

carlos blinks, completely caught off guard.

“amor?” his voice is laced with confusion and betrayal.

you don’t answer. you just keep walking.

then he snaps out of it.

“amor!” he calls louder, pushing his chair back as he stands. “come back here!”

you hear his footsteps on the deck as you disappear into the house, stuffing another bite into your mouth just as he reaches the doorway.

“oh, you’re in trouble now.”

you sprint toward the kitchen, but carlos is faster. within seconds, he wraps his arms around you from behind, tackling you onto the couch as you let out a squeal.

“no! carlos! it’s mine now!” you laugh, trying to take another bite, but he pins your arms, shaking his head.

“i trusted you,” he says dramatically, his face hovering inches from yours.

“and you love me,” you counter, mouth half full.

he sighs, looking at the last pathetic remains of his burger in your hand. “that was my best one yet…”

you pat his cheek, swallowing. “it was amazing, really.”

carlos groans before flopping off of you, lying on his back on the couch with a pout. “now what am i supposed to eat?”

you sit up, stretching. “i guess i could make you another one.”

he side-eyes you. “you guess?”

you grin. “fine, fine. i will make you another one.”

carlos huffs but follows you back to the kitchen, watching as you start grilling again. after a moment, he walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder.

“you’re lucky you’re cute,” he mumbles.

you smirk. “i know.”

carlos laughs, kissing your cheek before finally getting his fresh, non-stolen burger.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles leclerc is the definition of polite. he treats everyone with kindness, never raises his voice unnecessarily, and avoids causing a scene at all costs.

so he definitely wasn’t prepared for what was about to happen to his dinner—at his favorite restaurant, no less.

before walking to your table, you quietly slipped the waiter a generous tip and explained your plan. the waiter grinned, fully on board, and assured you they’d pull it off perfectly.

by the time you sat down across from charles, you had to bite back a smile.

as you waited for the food to arrive, conversation flowed easily. you leaned in slightly. “do you think i should start traveling with you during the season?”

charles’ eyes lit up. “of course,” he said immediately. “i would love that. and we could bring leo too—he’d love it.”

you laughed. “leo on a private jet, living the life.”

charles nodded. “exactly. he’s already spoiled, but this would make him impossible to deal with.”

the food finally arrived, and as always, charles looked delighted as he took his first bite. you chatted here and there, but you were mostly just waiting for the moment.

then, just as charles lifted another forkful of food and put it into his mouth, the waiter swooped in and—without hesitation—took his plate away.

charles froze mid-chew, blinking in confusion.

you clenched your jaw to keep from laughing as his brows furrowed, his eyes following his plate as it disappeared.

“amore,” he exhaled, swallowing his bite as he turned to you. “what the hell just happened?”

you shrugged, pretending to be just as confused. “i have no idea.”

charles sighed, rubbing his forehead before muttering something in french. you caught bits of it—something about karma for not finishing his meal last time.

still holding back your laughter, you watched as he looked toward the waiter, debating whether or not to say something. charles wasn’t one to cause a scene, but this? this was testing his patience.

“excuse me?” he finally called out, voice still polite but definitely stressed.

you couldn’t hold it in any longer. letting out a laugh, you waved the waiter back over, who immediately returned with his plate.

charles looked between you and the waiter, realization dawning. “no…”

you grinned. “oui.”

the waiter set his plate down. “désolé, monsieur leclerc, but it was a request.”

charles turned to you, eyes narrowing. “baby…”

you beamed. “it’s just a prank!”

he stared at you for a moment before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. “you…” he pointed his fork at you, squinting. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you leaned forward on your elbows. “i know.”

still mumbling in french about betrayal, charles picked up his fork again and resumed eating while you giggled, already thinking about what prank to pull next.

ʚ・lando norris

lando loves eating out with you—especially at small, lowkey urban spots where no one bothers him and the food is always good.

tonight was no different. after placing your order, you both slid into a booth, and lando immediately started rambling about something completely random.

“so i was thinking,” he said, gesturing animatedly, “if we ever get, like, really lost somewhere—like, no signal, no gps—do you think i’d be able to navigate us out just by looking at the stars?”

you snorted. “lando, you can’t even navigate a grocery store.”

“that’s different,” he argued. “they put all the good stuff at the back on purpose. it’s a scam.”

before you could argue further, your food arrived—a fresh, steaming-hot pizza.

“finally,” lando sighed happily, grabbing a slice immediately.

you both started eating, chatting between bites, until suddenly, just as lando reached for another slice, the cashier you tipped earlier casually walked over, picked up the entire pizza, and walked away.

lando froze, mouth slightly open, staring at the now-empty table.

“hey, i was eat—” he started, but before he could finish, the guy was already gone, disappearing into the back.

his head turned slowly toward you, utterly confused. “what… just happened?”

you glanced down at your own half-eaten slice, pretending to inspect it. “do you think they took it away because the pizza was bad?” you asked, struggling to hold in your laughter.

lando frowned, tilting his head. “i mean… maybe? but we already ate some. wouldn’t they have warned us first?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized it too late—maybe it’s, like, radioactive or something.”

lando blinked, deep in thought. “well… i feel fine. for now.”

then, shaking his head, he pushed his chair back. “i’ll just go talk to them—”

before he could stand, the cashier reappeared, grinning as he placed the pizza right back on the table. “enjoy your food.”

lando just stared at the guy, then at the pizza, then at you.

“were we not already…?” his brows furrowed.

that was it. you couldn’t hold it in anymore. you burst into laughter, clutching your stomach as lando continued to sit there, completely lost.

“what?” he asked, blinking. “what’s so funny?”

still laughing, you managed to get out, “i—i told them to do it. it was a prank! for tiktok!”

lando’s jaw dropped. “you set me up?”

you nodded, still giggling.

he exhaled dramatically, shaking his head. “wow. betrayal. right in front of my pizza.”

“i had to,” you grinned. “your face was priceless.”

lando grabbed his slice, taking a big bite while still glaring at you playfully. “i hope tiktok enjoys this, because i’m not sharing my pizza with you anymore.”

you gasped. “lando—”

“nope.” he turned away, holding his slice protectively. “find another victim.”

you just kept laughing as he ate, shaking his head at you—but deep down, you knew he’d totally get you back for this.

ʚ・oscar piastri

there’s nothing better than a good pasta, so while you and oscar were in italy, you decided to have some fun. recently, you’d been seeing the tiktok trend where waiters take food away mid-meal, and what better place to pull it off than in the land of pasta itself?

tipping isn’t really the norm in italy, but you still managed to sneak the waiter a little cash. using your very broken high school italian, you did your best to explain the prank. it wasn’t easy—your italian was atrocious—but thankfully, after showing him the tiktok, he got the idea. with a knowing grin, he agreed.

when you and oscar sat down, you could barely contain your excitement. the pasta finally arrived, steaming hot, and you both eagerly dug in.

as always, conversation flowed easily between the two of you. oscar was rambling about something—probably a weird f1 fact or a debate about whether pineapple belonged on pizza—when you glanced at the waiter and gave him a small, knowing smile.

that was his cue.

without hesitation, the waiter swooped in, grabbed oscar’s plate, and walked away.

oscar froze, fork still mid-air, a single strand of pasta dangling from it. his eyes followed his plate as it disappeared into the kitchen.

“did… did my food just get stolen?” he asked slowly, turning to you with the most genuinely confused expression you had ever seen.

you pressed your lips together to keep from laughing. “maybe… do you think something was wrong with it?”

oscar frowned, looking down at the pasta still on your plate. “but we’re eating the same thing…” he blinked. “was mine poisoned or something?”

you shrugged. “maybe they realized too late and saved your life.”

oscar squinted at you. “so they just left yours?”

you bit the inside of your cheek to stop from laughing. “maybe they don’t care if i get poisoned.”

his jaw dropped. “that’s messed up.” he started shifting in his seat, glancing toward the kitchen. “i should probably go—”

just as he was about to stand up, the waiter returned, placing his plate back down in front of him with a grin. “buon appetito.”

oscar looked at the waiter, then at you, then back at his pasta. his face was priceless.

“wait, what?” he looked genuinely lost. “was i… not supposed to have it? were we not already eating?”

that was it—you burst out laughing, unable to hold it in any longer.

“oscar,” you wheezed between laughs, “it was just a prank! for tiktok!”

he blinked. once. twice. then, realization hit.

“oh, my god.” he groaned, rubbing his face. “you set me up? in italy?”

you wiped a tear from your eye. “yes, and it was so worth it.”

oscar shook his head, sighing dramatically before twirling some pasta onto his fork. “unbelievable. i thought i was actually banned from eating for a second.”

“you should’ve seen your face,” you giggled.

he rolled his eyes, taking a bite. “you’re lucky i love you.”

you smirked. “i know.”

oscar chuckled, pointing his fork at you. “but just so you know, you will pay for this.”

you shrugged, twirling your own pasta. “looking forward to it.”

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moonstruckme · 6 months ago

Note

hi i love your blog! could you write poly!marauders where james is away on a business trip and everyone is moping because they miss him

Hi, I love you! Thanks for requesting :)

modern au

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 864 words

You feel a bit guilty resting your head on Sirius' shoulder while longing for another. But you reason that it’s not so bad if the one you’re longing for is Sirius’ boyfriend, too. And you like to think that if it were James’ warm, cushiony shoulder you were leaning against, you’d be missing Sirius instead.

“How was everyone’s day?” you ask.

Remus turns to give you a peculiar look. “It was fine. We talked about this already, didn’t we?”

“Yeah,” you sigh. “I just feel like we’re not usually so quiet during the commercial breaks.”

“Our yapper’s gone,” Sirius says, sulkily.

“James does usually start the conversation,” admits Remus. “But we don’t need him to talk. Right?”

“Right.” You nod, sitting up with what you hope looks like conviction. “Sirius, you can yap just as well as James can.”

“Yeah, but I need him to get me going.” Your boyfriend sighs heavily. “He’d probably ask something like ‘If we were all in a circus, what would our roles be?’ and I can’t come up with shit like that.”

“No, that’s great!” You try to sound peppy. “Um, okay. Sirius would probably be a trapeze artist, right?”

Remus nods. “And I could see you being a tightrope walker.”

You both look to Sirius for his analysis, but he looks unimpressed. Still, he plays along. “Rem would be one of those blokes who eat fire, likely.”

“Yeah,” you laugh.

See, you can have fun! This is fun, right? But then your film comes back on, and you all lapse into silence again.

“James would’ve never let us watch this,” you say after a few minutes. “He’d have made us pick a comedy or something.”

“And he would’ve been right,” Sirius agrees. “This is fucking bleak.”

“It’s not so bad,” Remus says, making you and Sirius exchange a look. For as much as James loves Remus, he’s most often the victim of his film vetoes. Remus’ taste is bleak.

It’s another few minutes before an actress on-screen says a line, and Remus clears his throat awkwardly.

“That’s what she said.”

You and Sirius look at him with a mixture of befuddlement and alarm.

“What?” He shifts in his seat. “I’m trying to fill a gap.”

Sirius appears scandalized. “James’ jokes are far more advanced than that.”

“He said ‘that’s what she said’ just last week.”

“Yes, but in a completely different context!”

“We could call him,” you point out.

Remus’ expression creases longingly. “No, he’s been in meetings all day. I’m sure he’ll want to rest.”

But Sirius clicks the speaker button on his phone, letting the dial tone play aloud. Remus looks almost relieved.

James picks up on the third ring. “Hello?”

“Hi,” you all say loudly, voices each trying to be heard over the others.

“We need you to come home,” Sirius whines.

“What?” James sounds closer to the speaker now, like he’s holding the phone tight to his face. “Is everything okay?”

“Don’t say that,” Remus hisses at Sirius. “Everything’s fine, Jamie.”

“We just miss you,” you clarify.

“Oh.” The relief is obvious in your boyfriend’s voice, and you notice your other two boyfriends smiling fondly at the sound of it. You think your own expression probably looks just about as humiliatingly smitten. “Awe. I miss you guys, too. Like crazy, you have no idea.”

“I think we have some.” Sirius raises a brow at the phone. “Rem just tried to make a ‘that’s what she said’ joke.”

A sharp cough crackles through the speaker. “Did he? How did it go?”

“Poorly.”

“Ah, well.” You can practically feel the warmth of James’ smile from hundreds of miles away. “Don’t worry, love. We’ll work on it when I get back.”

“I’d rather not do it again, actually,” Remus grumbles.

“How was your day?” You lean on Sirius’ shoulder again, getting close to the phone like James is contained within it.

“Boring,” he says emphatically. “I got told off by some old woman for tapping my pen on my pad too loudly while someone was giving a presentation. The hotel they’ve put us up in isn’t bad, though. Free breakfast in the morning to get us energized for another day or torment.”

“Ooh, could you see if they have those little blueberry muffins?” Sirius asks. “And if they do, wrap me up a few to bring home with you.”

“Sirius,” Remus chides.

“I’ll check,” James agrees easily. “Rem, do you want some chocolate ones if they have those?”

If James could see the way your boyfriend flushes pink, he’d be grinning ear to ear. “Yes, please,” Remus replies.

“Brilliant. And for you, lovie?”

“I’ll just mooch off of Sirius’ blueberry ones.” You snicker when Sirius gasps, sneaking a hand around your waist to pinch at your middle.

“Oh, perfect,” says James. “I’ll make sure to grab a few less, then, so you can really fight over them.”

“Prick,” Sirius accuses.

“Love you, too. So, how was everyone else’s day?”

You catch yourself smiling a second before seeing a similarly contented expression reflected on Sirius’ face. Remus moves from his armchair to the couch, and you all lean into the phone as you tell him.

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phoenixyfriend · 2 months ago

Text

Star Wars Time Travel Rec List

About time I put together a General Rec List for Star Wars Time Travel, yeah?

Organized by the time-traveling character(s). I'm adding a star for my favorites that imo you have to read. I'm not going to claim that those are necessarily the best, because I feel like that's not objective and also kinda mean to the ones that are good since they might just not be to my personal taste, but they are my favorites.

Obi-Wan

Anakin Skywalker

Ahsoka

Clones

Other Prequels-Era Characters

Two or more people

Luke or Leia

Other

Tagged authors where I could. If they aren't tagged, I either couldn't find their tumblr, they have their settings such that no one can tag them, or they blocked me for one reason or another.

Obi-Wan

It Was Another Time and I Another Man by Pell_Binterhol - under "Groups"

Ashes To Ashes, Dust To Dust by @livsy ~35k+, complete Obi-Wan is a time traveler, mental from the OT. What makes it unique is that the fic is from Anakin's POV. It's a very heartwarming piece.

⭐Take it from the top and try again by @mauverawrites ~170k, series - two fics complete, more on the way Possibly the best way to describe this series is as the platonic ideal of an Obi-Wan time travel fic. Weird Force stuff? Check. Obi-Wan having spent years on Tatooine? Check. Qui-Gon surviving? Check. Obi-Wan doing some shady illegal stuff to get money and infiltrate crime rings so he can save the galaxy? Check. Anakin being adorable as an initiate, and Shmi being saved from Tatooine? Check. Surprise Feemor? Check. It's all the bits you (or at least I) hope for when opening a new Obi-Wan Time Travel fic, and it never feels stale or repetitive or cliche. It's just a Very Good Fic.

The Exchange by @misslearn - under "Groups"

An Abundance of Obi-Wans by The_Last_Kenobi (orphan_account) ~45k, abandoned Unfortunately we'll never know how this ends, but it's a lot of fun while it lasts. Baby Obi is being haunted by three ghosts of his future self.

A Padawan at War (Again) by @itstimeforstarwars - under "Groups"

Free Jedi to Good Home by @itstimeforstarwars- under "Groups"

These Paths by HiddenEye - under "Groups"

⭐the massive machinery of hope by @killbothtwins 150k, complete Do you want comedy? Yes, you do. This one is great. Go read it. It's one of my favorites for a reason, and the reason is that Obi-Wan is a sarcastic little shit with a billion quips.

Living Memory by elsa3beth 353k, on hiatus, possibly abandoned? Obi-Wan Time Travel, leans a bit more heavily into the distrust and despair surrounding Anakin (due to Vader things from the future) than most.

⭐The Desert Storm/Rise and Fall by @blue-sunshine-mauve-morning ~1.6m (1592k), ongoing This is one of the longest, most consistent, best-regarded time-travel fics in the fandom for a reason.

⭐Reprise by Elfpen ~560k, ongoing Another Obi-Wan time-travel fic, this one using that favored cover story of "Ben is Obi-Wan's biological uncle," and I love it so much for how it explores both characters and political events.

Realign the Stars by @fortunerainwrites, @TerinAngel - under "Groups"

Current of Fate by @feybarn ~195k, on hiatus? It's been so long since I read this one that I can't quite remember what it was that I liked about it so much, and it's too long to do a reread right now... but I do remember loving it, especially when it switches to an outsider POV for the second fic.

Anakin Skywalker

The Exchange by @misslearn - under "Groups"

A Padawan at War (Again) by @itstimeforstarwars - under "Groups"

Free Jedi to Good Home by @itstimeforstarwars - under "Groups"

War Drums by @intermundia ~91k, ongoing Vader travels back to TPM. Runs off with Obi-Wan into the stars to Achieve Some Goals to take down Sidious. Gets quick-aged to 19 by some Dathomiri magic. Projected to be Obikin.

These Paths by HiddenEye - under "Groups"

Old Promises by @threebea ~65k, ongoing Time Traveler Anakin panic-kidnaps Initiate Kenobi. Absolute disaster of a man.

An (Un)fortunate Haunting by @kooriicolada, @scarletjedi 3.5k, oneshot Anakin thinks the Vader ghost haunting him is a hallucination. This one is technically more than just Anakin, but it's... mostly Anakin.

⭐Force of Many Sights by DAsObiQuiet ~480k, on hiatus? Vader to TPM, possessing his younger self. This fic has a heavy, and much-appreciated focus on therapy as it functions for someone of Vader's... particular situation. This is also technically a "Groups" series, since it's also got Siri Tachi as a time-traveler, but her POV is much smaller, and it takes... I want to say about 100k words for her to really start playing a more active role in the plot.

Realign the Stars by @fortunerainwrites, @TerinAngel - under "Groups"

Ahsoka

I don't know why all the good Ahsoka time travel fics are her as part of a team, but they do in fact fuck, so. I LIED I forgot to bookmark one of the Ahsoka fics I like.

Free Jedi to Good Home by @itstimeforstarwars - under "Groups"

These Paths by HiddenEye - under "Groups"

Realign the Stars by @fortunerainwrites, @TerinAngel - under "Groups"

Living in Borrowed Time by @scribbling-albatross - under "groups"

⭐Although He Smiles by @autumnillustration - ~157.6k, ongoing This one is amazing, it's an Ahsoka main, and she is very funny with Padawan Obi-Wan and adorable with 9yo Anakin. Lovely.

Clones

love is with your brother by Petrichor (Mythmaker) ~8k, complete TCW Rex bodyswaps with his baby self. POV is Ahsoka during the clone wars.

Free Jedi to Good Home by @itstimeforstarwars - under "Groups"

These Paths by HiddenEye - Rex and Cody - under "Groups"

Realign the Stars by @fortunerainwrites, @TerinAngel - Rex and Cody - under "Groups"

Living in Borrowed Time by @scribbling-albatross - Rex - Under "Groups"

⭐Dominoes by meridianpony ~380k, ongoing All five Dominoes go back to the beginning, from the points of their deaths! (Disclaimer: Echo's treated as having died at the Citadel. I think the fic started before his survival was revealed.) Technically this is a group, but all five are clones, so...

Other Prequels-Era Characters

there is no death by @ashkav ~140k, ongoing There is something really cool about Cal Kestis time travel fics, especially when he's got a decent amount of knowledge of The General Situations (e.g. Anakin will become Vader) but is missing so many details, like Why and How.

⭐An Echo in the Force (a whisper in a cave by @stardust2flame ~8k, complete Feemor is trapped in a time loop. This was actually written as a gift to me, so it has a special place in my heart.

⭐Mace Windu Fixes the Timeline... And Breaks it in Whole New Ways by AbsentmindedAuthor98 ~52k, ongoing Absolutely choice series based on an AU by @suzukiblu. Mace Windu does some time-traveling. He takes on Anakin as his padawan on an impulse, but he ends up doing his damnedest to be a Good Master for the kid. Depa helps.

Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge by @yellowocaballero - Fox - under "Groups"

Make a Brand New End by @batshieroglyphics ~120k, I think on hiatus Another Feemor fic! This one's not time-loop, just time travel. Lots of juicy Qui-Gon drama.

⭐Not a Good Man by @feybarn ~28k, ongoing Imperial era Boba Fett goes back to AotC. He decides to fix things, partly by trying to get his dad to fall in love with Obi-Wan Kenobi.

a distant fire is burning by e_va ~47.5k, ongoing This is another Cal fic! It's got video game logic in it. Also, Anakin and Cal are both being so weird about sort of being adoptive brothers, it's great.

⭐They Don't Care About Us by @ironhoshi Time traveler Boba! And Cal! They're doing great, sweetie. Their best. Obi-Wan and Jango are mostly just confused. (Has anyone checked on Anakin? Someone needs to go check on Anakin. Again.)

Groups

It Was Another Time and I Another Man by Pell_Binterhol ~200k, incomplete This is a very fun fic that involves multiple time-travelers from multiple points in time. Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon from the Legends novels are pulled forward into TCW, and Old Ben and Luke are pulled back from the OT, and some spoilers as well.

⭐The Exchange by @misslearn ~120k, complete A swapping-style time travel. RotS Anakin&Obi-Wan end up in TPM, and TPM Anakin&Obi-Wan end up in RotS. Shenanigans ensue. (Also trauma.)

⭐Can We Start Over? by @triscribe ~22k, ongoing Most of the Jedi have time-traveled from the points of their deaths to about a year pre-AotC. Some handle it better than others. The POV is Aayla, which I find very cool.

A Padawan at War (Again) by @itstimeforstarwars ~183k, ongoing It's technically more of a de-aging than a time-travel, but hey! Still a good read! TPM Anakin and Obi-Wan take the place of their TCW selves, who no longer exist.

⭐Free Jedi to Good Home by @itstimeforstarwars ~complicated as the second fic has been hidden, ongoing This is one of my favorite series, but as you can see by the above, it's in a bit of a timeout right now. Bookmark it for later? Also, there's an entire side series called Inspired By One Hundred Hours To Rearrange The Stars.

These Paths by HiddenEye ~90k, complete Our five TCW mains (Obi-Wan, Cody, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex) are booted forward to the Original Trilogy. The latter three are deaged to their TPM ages (9, 4, baby respectively). Also it's CodyWan.

Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge by @yellowocaballero ~33k, complete Leia and Fox time travel! This one is very dark. That said, it has a comedic counterpart that I love, which is only available on tumblr: ⭐Fox & Leia's Holiday Special

⭐Realign the Stars by @fortunerainwrites, @TerinAngel ~68k, abandoned Obi-Wan, Anakin, Ahsoka, Rex, and Cody, from TCW to TPM. Despite the unfinished state, I cannot deny the oddly intense level of influence this fic has had on my own approach to star wars time travel fics.

⭐Living in Borrowed Time by @scribbling-albatross 118k, ongoing Rex and Ahsoka are time-travelers! They are so, so very fucked up. Sure do wish they had access to therapists that could actually be cleared for knowing their Extensive Lists Of Traumas. This one definitely had a huge impact on how I characterize Rex and Ahsoka since I entered the fandom.

Luke and Leia

Twilight on Owl Creek Bridge by @yellowocaballero - Leia - under "Groups"

There is another Skywalker by WabiSabi ~85k, on hiatus? Time-Traveler Leia! Mentally in the sequels, physically in her thirties, and chronologically in the clone wars. Also Luke's sharing space in her noggin.

Shifting Sands by @chancecraz ~180k, ongoing "Ongoing? But it hasn't updated since 2021!" The last time it updated, the chapter was 65k, after over two years of radio silence. Trust me when I say that the lack of recent updates means nothing for this author. Anyway, Sequels Leia to about a year pre-TPM, hangs out with baby Anakin and Shmi and then neatly inserts herself in the plot.

⭐Of Queens, Knights, and Pawns by @chancecraz ~860k, ongoing Same author as above, same disclaimer for the gap since last update. Sequels Leia does a mental time-travel into her ANH self, specifically the 'being tortured on the Death Star' moment. It's so fucking good.

Old Man Luke by @scarletjedi ~110k, ongoing Sequels Luke to TCW! He is very cryptic, channeling the Jedi who taught him! Fun!

⭐Sith Lord Swell by AMournfulHowlInTheNight ~53k, ongoing Luke and his students (including Ben Solo) travel back in time to a bit before AotC. They decide the best way to proceed is to pretend they are Sith Lords. This is primarily a comedy fic. Luke really enjoys fucking with people.

⭐Don't Look Back by @this-acuteneurosis ~700k, ongoing Post-OT Leia (after the deaths of most of her friends) physically time travels to a year or two before AotC. She is taken in by the Lars family, and then she and Shmi start to head for Coruscant, run into Padme, and join the Nabooan government in Padme's employ. Do you want a fic that feels like 70% politics and logistics and trade routes? Because that's what this is and it's great.

Other

The Way of Conquest by pagination ~76k, ongoing There is something very funny about the time-traveler not even realizing they are about thirty years into the wrong time. Din has no idea when he is. Grogu does, but he's not telling.

#time travel #phoenix recs #star wars #the clone wars #sw prequels #sw ot #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #captain rex #commander cody #feemor #mace windu #luke skywalker #leia organa #din djarin #cal kestis #commander fox #boba fett

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celtrist · 5 months ago

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This was the piece that I had started before my extensive vacation (of coughing). Once again, Alastor is consistently the bane of my existence with his... well everything.

No matter! Anyway, this is something I like to call the Obsession AU. To sum it up real fast: Everyone is yandere for Alastor. I think it would just be apart of his punishment in Hell, being consistently forced into or desired in romantic/sex which he's never had much interest in. I would describe it as a dark comedy thing, but it can be as comedic or as dark as you want here. With that said, please be on guard with any mentions of darker content that treds towards a certain dead bird territory when I get a bit into how I imagine some of the characters. Again, it doesn't have to go that far if you're interested in this premise of an au and wanna focus on the more light hearted stuff, feel free.

This au is just poking a bit of fun at how everyone in the fandom wants to put Alastor in romantic situations constantly (whether it be with themselves or the other characters) despite Alastor probably being the least interested in the subject in the whole show. This is by no means a hate train or making fun of people who do enjoy shipping Alastor, it just more of a funny thing I think comes off as pretty ironic for his character and hopefully, others can enjoy that too. In this au he leans pretty much on the clear-cut side of aromantic and asexual with no interest in romantic affections at all. With that said, if you want to explore Alastor genuinely being interested in one of the other characters romantically or something similar, feel free to explore that! I can see some interesting dichotomies there. It's just within the actual "canon" of this au, he's not at all interested with that sort of thing. And just with a last final reminder to get into some character things I have in mind, some of the content mentioned does get pretty dark, particularly with Valentino but I don't think anyone's surprised there. But there might be some triggering content of the following mentioned here with characters but no crazy details really: Manipulation/Gaslighting, forced feminization, Non-con, Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning, Possessive, Drugging, Love bombing And I will be sure to give a quick warning to each character it might apply to, please feel free to let me know if I missed anything!

Rosie (Munchausen syndrome, Poisoning): Rosie has 100% poisoned Alastor before to make sure he relies on her. They started off as good friends but at some point Alastor began getting ill and Rosie offered to take care of him. This leads to Alastor staying in bed for full days, only really seeing Rosie who took care of his every need from food, clothing, washing, and so on. At some point, Alastor caught on that Rosie was putting something in his food to make him sick and he managed to escape with their friendship tarnished much to his dismay. He's often uneasy around Rosie but is upfront about his knowledge of Rosie's deeds. Rosie, in turn, acts like it is a lighthearted situation and often offers Alastor over for lunch, which he often denies. Any food he gets at his doorstep from a secret admirer or a lunchbox he finds at his seat in an overlord meeting goes straight into the trash. Alastor will still use Rosie's assets to his benefit of course, but is always careful as to what she might try to get in exchange. He has had more awkward lunches with her with his homemade meal versus the buffet she catered for the occasion, with the two gossiping like old times. Alastor is still uneasy during these times, but he also revels in the false pleasantries due to not having many others he's able to associate himself with due to the curse.

Lucifer (Controlling, Possessive, Manipulation): So I'm not 100% clear how I wanted to approach Lucifer. He and Charlie are probably the most similar I suppose? He wants Alastor as his queen (either alongside him and Lilith or only with him, he doesn't mind either way). He doesn't force him into dresses or anything, but Lucifer does consistently make doting moves and talks about how Alastor would make a good father to their children. Marriage is one of the mind and Lucifer probably gets a bit possessive with him. He also tries to guilt trip Alastor a lot, or manipulate situations in one of their arguments to get Alastor to say something he doesn't mean.

Charlie (Controlling, Possessive): Probably the most tame of everyone quite honestly. Charlie can be a bit controlling but does step off when Alastor expresses his dislike of her doing so, even if it takes a couple times. She likes doing things for him, is super affectionate, and daydreams about her, Vaggie, and Alastor all getting married. She can get pretty possessive with him, not being pleased when anybody does anything against Alastor's will or hurt him. The only exception to this rule is Vaggie, to which Charlie sees it like two cats getting along and finds it very endearing.

Vaggie (Forced Feminization, Controlling, Murder): Depending on how you look at it, Vaggie's one of the more fucked up obsessions or one of the more funnier ones. Because she's automatically inclined to like Alastor quite a bit with the curse thing but her personality doesn't jive with his for her own taste (in terms of their first meeting), she both hates and loves the guy. She's obsessed with trying to murder Alastor with traps around the hotel or outright standing over him with her spear. The hatred comes primarily from not wanting to feel the way she does about him, I guess like a fucked up tsundere if you wanna go that route. At the same token, however, she does want Alastor to be involved with both her and Charlie romantically. There's just one little problem: Vaggie has about the same amount of interest in men as she does in canon. So to sort of "fix" Alastor, she consistently tries to force him to be more feminine in clothing, offering different feminine names, and even trying to force him to get a sex change. Alastor is pretty slippery though, so it never quite works out in Vaggie's favor aside from the occasional dress or skirt being worn, which solidifies her attraction to him. Then he takes it off and looks more like a man again, and it solidifies her frustration/hatred for him.

Angel Dust (Drugging): To start, while I think Angel would love to have sex with Alastor, he 100% would not force it. Wouldn't even do touches or anything. Potentially he could just like as a coping (to be in a situation where HE'S the one in control), but that is a darker route that I don't think will be exactly true for this AU. However, he very much enjoys drugging Alastor similar to Rosie. Not only just as a bonding thing since Angel would also do the drugs WITH him, but just to get the not-quite-lucid compliments from Alastor and maybe a snuggle then and there. He wants to dote on Alastor with him drugged out in his bed saying nice things to Angel. Admittedly this one's a bit of a workshop as I just knew I didn't want Angel to be focused on sex like somebody, but wasn't sure what to do here.

Valentino(Non-con, LoveBombing): I mean... it is Valentino, what did you THINK he'd be trying to do with Alastor? There's really not much to say here, Valentino essentially tries pulling all the stops trying to get Alastor in bed while also love-bombing the hell out of him. Which really doesn't work. Valentino is pretty open with sharing Alastor, but again, does this surprise anyone? As long as he's participating in some way, he really doesn't mind.

Vox (ALL warnings): Pretty much the worst version of himself that people make him be sometimes for those darker stories in the fandom. While more interested in having an enthusiastic partner, I don't think Vox would be opposed to forcing himself onto Alastor. He consistently tries to manipulate and gaslight, while enjoying both the suffering and pleasure of Alastor. Much like Vaggie, Vox is obsessed both being in love with Alastor while also downright hating him to the core. He's possessive and likes the idea of being both sweet and heinous with Alastor. He pretty much is every other character wrapped up in one fucked up TV man. Vox acts the most well-adjusted of the characters here, but he's probably got the obsession the worst.

And of course, pretty much every other conceivable ship is up for grabs here. I did think about maybe unfallen angels are able to resist the obsession curse, which would possibly make a funny team-up of Alastor, Adam, Lute, and Emily. Alternatively, I thought maybe the other canonically asexual characters in the show wouldn't be affected instead, meaning another oddball team-up of Alastor, Octavia, and Mammon. Then there is of course the "nope, there's no escape for deer man". Not sure yet, maybe I'll workshop it. I have more normal things in the works rather than this messed up little au, but darker content is a guilty pleasure of mine.

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xiaowhore · 2 months ago

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equivalent exchange.

DRAFT. this fic is incomplete, as i've stated in this post. this has been sitting in the dungeon for a while, and i have no plans to finish them, but i posted these drafts to not let them go to waste. it is up to you if you still want to read them regardless of their incompletion :) i will be writing my original ideas for the fic at the end so you guys will have an idea of what the fic was supposed to be like.

premise. when ayato stumbles upon a drafted resignation letter on your desk, he doubles his efforts to show you the perquisites of staying by his side.

he doesn't want to lose a competent subordinate. that's all there is to it.

note. what's wrong with secretary kim au but it's definitely not the same because i stopped watching at episode 5 and have no idea what happened. anyways i think we were all expecting a ceo!ayato x secretary!reader fic at some point so here it is. (couldn't keep this gender neutral for plot reasons, so feminine pronouns were used.)

Kamisato Ayato considers himself a good boss.

Or as far as things go, he's a decent one. He treats his employees well, takes them to expensive restaurants for company dinners, and discourages overtime so they can head off early for the night. He doesn't care much for formalities, and he gets along with his colleagues fairly well. He's never heard anyone talk behind his back or complain about his attitude at work, and there aren't any rumors spreading about him (if he turns a blind eye to the conspiratorial gossip guessing his relationship status).

But he does have minor faults. Like showing a more mischievous side when work hours are over. Getting Thoma dead drunk during dinners because his half-conscious inebriated talking is a form of amusement, or riling up Itto in drinking games just because it's funny. Then he leaves Sara to clean up the mess for him, since Yae seems to enjoy the comedy sketch as thoroughly as he does and probably won't lift a finger to help even if he asked her to.

As his assistant, you're prone to falling victim to his shenanigans, silly stunts that coax out aggravated eye rolls and sighs of exasperation. Years of experience eventually shaped you up to be entirely immune to April Fools' pranks.

He's in the middle of planning another one when he spots a letter of resignation on your desk.

At first, he thinks it's your rebellious phase arriving a decade late. He always found it odd how you never retaliated against his tricks, and this may just be the long-awaited April Fools' prank of vengeance. If it is, it's particularly mean of you—Ayato does have feelings, you know? Even he would feel hurt if you told him you wanted to leave! You shouldn't take this kind of thing lightly!

Then he remembers you aren't the type to make jokes, April Fools' or otherwise, and it's that moment when he feels (proper) fear.

“[Name] wants to resign?!”

Ayato makes a zipping motion and Thoma's shrieks immediately die down, but the disbelief on his face has yet to wane. His brows scrunch together, brain hard at work in processing this piece of information, though it seems to short-circuit in utter confusion from the sudden blow.

Scandalized, Thoma lowers his head and levels his voice to a hushed whisper, “Are you sure you saw it correctly?”

“I have able eyes. Unfortunately, my optometrist confirmed my perfect vision and assured I saw it just fine.” Woe is he.

“Get them checked again.”

“No matter how much I check, it won't change the results, Thoma.”

“We don't know that for sure, sir!”

“Trust me,” Ayato deadpans, looking off into the distance, “I checked with him thrice.”

Defeated, Thoma leans back to his chair, crossing his arms while deep in thought. “You saw the letter, but she didn't turn it in, did she?”

“She didn't. No e-mail, either.” Ayato taps the table in a mindless rhythm, expression stern but the shape of his lips almost resembling a pout. “Do you have any idea why she'd want to resign?”

Thoma rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Is that a genuine question, sir?”

Ayato's head snaps back to look at his companion. “Why wouldn't it be?”

“...Everyone in the office knows you... tease her for your own amusement.”

“It's my way of showing affection.” The corners of his lips curl up, stretching to a twisted smile as he rests his cheek on his palm. “Isn't she just so adorable when she gets angry?”

“You really do have a rotten personality.”

Ayato waves his hand in a noncommittal response. “We're straying off topic. What should we do next?”

Thoma hums, closed fist beneath his chin. “Since she hasn't turned in the letter yet, that means she must be hesitating. For what reason, we don't know, but it's keeping her here. So before she makes up her mind, we should dissuade her from quitting no matter what.”

Ayato laces his fingers together, brow in an inquisitive arch. “And we do that by?”

Green eyes sparkle with tenacity, clashing with blue irises twinkling in intrigue. “We bribe her, sir. It's time to show off your good points.”

“If a woman quits her job, what do you think her reasons could be?”

Ayaka blinks owlishly at her brother, taken aback by the abrupt question. It's a sudden thing to ask, especially odd given how their conversation hasn't led to that topic at all. “Did someone resign? I haven't heard anything of the sort, though.”

Ayato shakes his head, stirring the boba tea in his hands. “It's a hypothetical.”

Which means it's real.

Ah, whatever. At least he didn't go for the “my friend...” excuse.

Ayaka warily cuts a portion of her cake, scrutinizing each microexpression flashing on Ayato's face. It's one of their weekly lunch meetings, squeezed between hectic schedules, and they more or less have a silent agreement to avoid discussions involving work if they could help it. But this time, he brought it up himself.

How peculiar.

“Perhaps she wants to change workplaces? If she's exemplary, she might have been offered a better position or higher pay.”

Ayato nearly scoffs at the suggestion. The company, old-fashioned as it is, can only be inherited by a direct line of descendants. Outsiders can only go so far, and being the secretary for the chief executive officer isn't bad at all. Last time he checked, he's been paying you generously as well—how many figures was it? Six?

“Oh!” Ayaka exclaims, holding up a finger as she seems to have figured out something. “Or maybe she wants to settle down and get married? If her work is keeping her occupied, she'll most likely take time off to find a husband.”

Ayato proceeds to choke on a tapioca pearl.

“Or she got married and wants to be a housewife-”

“That's quite enough, Ayaka.”

Ayato would rather believe the Earth is flat.

If Ayato were any less desperate, perhaps he would have rationalized that putting together “give her what she wants to make her stay” and “she wants to get married” is a bad, bad idea.

Unfortunately for him, he is grasping at straws, so it leaves him no choice. Yes. Definitely. There is no other option than this, obviously.

(He does not delve deeper into the reason why he doesn't want you to leave, nor does he dwell any longer on why he was so quick to think he was fine with getting married if it was to you.)

“Don’t you want to get married soon, Ms. [Surname]?”

To clarify, Ayato does not spy on other people's conversations for a hobby, but he's always had impeccable timing. It comes with the job.

He stands by the door, reaching for the doorknob to the break room, but the mention of your name forces him to a halt.

“Why are you asking me that...?” You awkwardly dodge the question, sipping on your coffee. “I suppose I am at that age, though.”

“So you do want to!” The squeal rings with a note of glee, a stark contrast to Ayato's gradually dimming mood. “Wouldn't it be nice to marry a good man? I'm sure even you have thought of it at some point! Are you seeing anyone, then? Anyone you can imagine yourself marrying?”

“No, not yet.”

Before Ayato can even heave a relieved sigh, you follow with, “But my mother is making me go on dates to see people. Said if I didn't bring home a man soon, she'd come all this way to drag me back by my ear and introduce me to her friend's son.”

“Ah, I get that...” Your friend replies emphatically, nodding. “But those kind of meetings hardly go well. And you can't exactly tell your mother's friend you don't find her son attractive, right?”

“Why not just marry Mr. Kamisato, then?” Another one pipes up, to which Ayato gives a mental salute of appreciation. “You spend most of your time together. If you're not married to your job, then you're practically married to him.”

A cackle sends his heart dropping to his stomach.

“Not a chance.”

Can you at least expound why?!

“Huh? Why not? I mean, Mr. Kamisato is on another realm of existence and I can never hope to be on the same level as him, but you look good together!”

Your face pinches to a tight frown. “Look good together? In what way?”

“When you stand side by side, it just looks... right. And like I've mentioned earlier, you spend all your time with him. Why not seal the deal?”

“Mr. Kamisato is reliable, and if you marry him, you're set for life. He's handsome too, and we've all seen his muscles at our company sports day a few months ago!”

“I've never been so thankful for team-building events. Hallelujah.”

Ayato's face burns in embarrassment hearing the dreamy sighs. Even if they think there isn't anyone else listening on them (which is false), shouldn't they exert some restraint at work?

“Please don't lust over my boss,” you assert sternly, voice ice cold. “And we have a strictly professional relationship. So don't get any weird ideas from here on out, alright?”

“Fine. Tell me that again when I'm invited at your wedding, I dare you.”

“I said-”

They wave off your vehement protests at the statement. “Then if you're not into Mr. Kamisato, what do you plan to do?”

Ayato perks up, straining his ears in rapt attention.

“...I'm going on a date this weekend,” you sigh, rubbing circles on your temples. “I'll let you know how it goes.”

Oh no.

“-Dinner was nice. We didn't expect the rain shower, but he ran to the convenience store across the street to buy an umbrella because he didn't want me to get wet on the way to the car. He said it would be a waste if my hair got ruined since I-”

Slurp.

“...Styled it for the occasion. Then he drove me home. I found out we liked the same band from the music he played, and we agreed to-”

Sluuurp.

“-Go to their upcoming concert together. Then we somehow also like the same novel that's getting a movie adaption soon, so we also promised to see it-”

Sluuuuuuuuuuuuuurp.

“Could you please refrain from making noise when eating, sir?”

Ayato decidedly does not comply and only slurps his boba tea harder, nearly choking on a tapioca pearl yet again.

As always, you learn to ignore him.

“Concert... and a movie. I'm not sure about the concert, but the film you're talking about is the one coming out in the next two months, right?” Thoma confirms, sweating when Ayato's expression turns visibly grim. “You plan to see him for that long...?”

“Even if dating doesn't work out, we can always become friends, can't we?” You shrug, taking a bite out of your sandwich. “He seems like a nice guy. We get along really well, considering we've only met once. I ended up agreeing to a second date-”

The passive-aggressive slurping persists for the following afternoon.

“I've been meaning to ask for a while,” Thoma treads carefully, noticing Ayato's rapid-fire typing—no, striking—on the keyboard, “Ms. [Surname] is good at her job, but you seem really... eager to make her stay, sir.”

Ayato's fingers halt in their movement, and he takes a second to flash his business smile. “Of course. She's a valuable asset, and I'd be foolish to let her go.”

“Yes, I'm well aware, but...” Thoma scratches his cheek, looking off to the side. “You didn't go to such lengths when your former assistants resigned from their post. Or, uh... you fired most of them.”

“Yes,” Ayato simply agrees, still smiling, “she's competent. You don't find anyone like her easily, so it's only natural I'd want her to stay.”

“What do you mean by 'anyone like her,' sir?”

Thoma is awfully talkative today. Ayato might need to feed him something spicy to shut him up.

“Ms. [Surname] is special.” The words smoothly leave his lips. “Does anyone else have the meetings and company events scheduled for the next month memorized? She's the only one I can count on for work matters.”

Thoma's shoulders slump. “Okay, let me get straight to the point. Do you-”

“Mr. Kamisato?”

Thoma nearly jumps out of his skin at the sound of your voice, accompanied by the clack of your heels.

“What is it?” The cold smile on his face finally melts to something more genuine, softer around the edges and looking especially radiant. It's welcoming, like your arrival counts as a joyous occasion, and he is exponentially more attentive compared to the way he lent Thoma half his ear (the other preoccupied with a phone call, which he swiftly ends the moment you walk in).

“I came to deliver some files from Ms. Miko... did I interrupt something?” You gesture to Thoma standing idly by the side, dumbfounded from Ayato's inconceivable behavior.

“Not at all. Is there anything else?” Ayato accepts the documents, noticing your hesitance to leave.

“Ah, yes, I will be asking for time off tomorrow.”

That's... rare?

But it's not a hard request. Ayato's own schedule is blank for the most part, since the latest project wrapped up not too long ago, and the workload is lighter than usual. Missing one work day won't do any harm.

“It's fine, but could I ask why?”

You fidget, tentative as you reply, “I was invited... for a trip on a cruise. He insisted I come since his friend bailed on him and the tickets would go to waste.”

The warmth in his eyes freezes over.

“The tickets would go to waste...” Ayato repeats under his breath, mockingly cruel. The tone flies past your head but it hits Thoma full-force, making him sweat profusely.

Distasteful. An utter disgrace of a man. The magnitude of his ignorance is so awe-inspiring, I have to applaud. I must give credit where it is due, and the foolishness of this clown is truly impressive. “The tickets will go to waste,” he says? His money must worth more to him than his dignity. Inviting Ms. [Surname] to a date on a workday with no regard for her schedule is one thing, but making her out to be an afterthought as a substitute for his original travel partner is another. How shameful. This is no way to treat a lady. If Ayaka were to be with a man of his caliber, I would never allow it.

But what he says outloud is of course, “I see. I hope you have fun, then.”

Corporate events are, for the most part, adequately entertaining.

Preparing for it is not.

But the worst part isn't even brainstorming themes, or finding an appropriate venue, or planning the logistics, or writing the guest list.

It's choosing what to wear.

Actually, the cause for Ayato's headache isn't even what attire he'll go with. It's yours.

“That looks wonderful,” Yae praises, looking at the picture on your phone. It displays a silver necklace, a tear drop topaz encased in a diamond twist. It pairs well with the dress you bought with Ayaka last week, an elegant fit that accentuated your curves.

However.

“He chose that for you, didn't he?”

The stoic line of Ayato's mouth twitches and his eyes can't help but sweep over your screen, scrutinizing each grainy pixel.

Though he has plenty of insults prepared at his arsenal, he can't find anything to nitpick about. Damn it. It's a good choice.

“You'll look stunning,” Kokomi assures good-naturedly, smiling in delight. Ayato does not doubt that will be the case, but he's sure he would be in a foul mood the entire night if he were to see you adorning it.

He has already retrieved his coffee from the break room so he excuses himself to his office, long strides that lead him out of earshot.

As a result, he doesn't hear the following conversation.

“Why this, though?” Kokomi asks, looking closely at the accessory. “It's a simple design. Doesn't look like something a man would pick from the rest.”

You shake your head. “I just told him I wanted something blue, and I couldn't choose myself because there were too many that caught my eye...”

“Blue?” She echoes, a simple curiosity. “Why blue?”

“...It's a pretty color.”

It is an actual coincidence that Ayato runs into you in the middle of shopping.

You're hunched over a display stand showcasing a variety of earrings, deep in thought as you observe each one. You're doing that thing where you scrunch your nose in concentration, a habit Ayato doesn't think you even realize you have.

“Fancy meeting you here, Ms. [Surname].”

(He wonders what face you would've made if he said “You go here often?” instead. Probably some degree of disgust.)

You blink, correcting your posture and nodding in greeting. You don't look particularly thrilled to see him, but at least you're unbothered by the prospect of seeing your boss on a free day. “You're here to shop too, Mr. Kamisato?”

Ayato smiles amicably. “I am. Were you planning to buy earrings?”

“Yes, but...” Your gaze returns to the display, your own smile faltering. “It is a bit difficult to choose.”

He walks over, scanning the variety up and down. “Is it really? You only need to choose a pair that matches your necklace, right?” He focuses on shades of silver, bypassing the vibrant colors of reds and pinks. Not even fifteen seconds later, he picks out a card and holds it out next to your ear. “This one looks nice on you.”

“Huh? Really?” Perhaps surprised by his swiftness, it takes you a moment to react accordingly. You take the card from his hands and flip it over, eyes widening by a fraction. “Oh. It is rather pretty.” Then they widen further as big as saucers. “I can't say the same for the price tag, though.”

“Hm? What price tag?”

He plucks the earrings from your hands, walks to the counter, and pays for it without a second thought.

“M-Mr. Kamisato?”

“Pull up your hair.”

“Eh? Oh, okay.”

You're so caught off guard that you unwittingly do as he says, tucking your hair back obediently and still processing the last two minutes.

His fingers tug at your ear, warmth bleeding to your skin, and by the time you return to reality, he's already putting the earrings on you.

STORY FLOW.

ok i lied i actually can't remember shit about this fic so i will be making up stuff as i go lol

what i do remember clearly is that the resignation notice that ayato found on your desk is years old. you meant to submit it way, way back when ayato was tougher on you, and you weren't as well-adjusted as you are now to the job yet. as stated in the fic, being ayato's secretary is no easy task—he'd fired countless people he thought was incompetent.

you fought a number of times, and you didn't know if you could keep up working for a man you thought was simply incompatible with you (in terms of being colleagues/partners).

but over time, you learned to work together. ayato acknowledged your efforts and hard work, and you knew ayato had been trying to give you less jobs to reduce your workload, but you were going to prove that hou could handle it.

what truly made you appreciate ayato more was when you got stranded at the train station. you dealt with a far company they collaborated with, but work ended later than expected, and you'd missed the last train home. taxis were an option, but youd have to go through several of them to get back. right when you were thinking of checking into a hotel, ayato informed you he was already on his way and drove a couple of hours to get where you were to bring you home.

time continued to pass, and that brings us back to the present. you were on the process of cleaning up your desk and left the old resignation notice out in the open by accident, which led to ayato seeing it.

it is very apparent to the others that you two like each other, but the involved parties themselves are unaware of it. you currently aren't eager to get married, but you were trying to meet people so your parents would stop bugging you about still being single.

anyway, ayato bought those earrings for you. timeskip to the corporate event. you unconsciously picked a blue motif for your outfit because it reminds you of ayato.

when you get there, surprise, surprise. the man you were meeting, kazuha is a bigwig, heir to some other corporation. he actually owned that cruise he invited you to and pretended he didn't because you might be intimidated. ayato didn't think the kazuha he knew and the kazuha you knew were the same person, and now the advantage he had over him was ruled out (i.e being rich). (actually while i was rereading i was surprised i didn't mention that it was kazuha...? istg i was imagining him the whole time i wrote about him)

anyhow, as it became later in the night, ayato wanted to get you home before kazuha could offer to drive you back or worse, spend the night with him. ayato acted drunk so you'd tend to him and accompany him home while his driver was in charge of taking you to his apartment. as you were nagging at him, he compared your interactions with him to yours and kazuha's. you were certainly nicer to that man. smiled at him a lot more, too. did you really like him that much?

if you did, could he let you go?

he was ashamed that he couldn't answer it right away. as if he had any right to whatever you do.

you carried him to bed when you got to his apartment, but when you were preparing to leave, he hugged you from behind. do you like that man? why do you want to leave me? why can't it be me? ayato was just pretending to be drunk, but he felt dizzy now, soaked in your scent. he said things that he wasn't supposed to. things that he couldn't take back. things that would change your relationship forever.

slowly, you took away the hands wrapped around your waist. ayato figured that was a message of rejection.

but then you pushed him back down on the bed and you straddled his lap. his mind was silent for but a few seconds before he started screaming mentally.

i've always wanted you, but i knew it was impossible. you have a fiancee. i'm an ordinary worker. your family won't accept me. ayato's mind was in a daze because your face was so close to his, and all he could see was the red, glossy shade on your lips, but he managed to hear those few sentences.

it doesn't matter. nothing else matters. i can't marry if it's not you. if you accept me, i swear i'll make you happy.

from here on, it could be a happy, fluffy ending where turns out, you were tipsy so you were more honest with him and you fell asleep in the middle of kissing so he took it upon himself to change your dress into something more comfortable and end the night with a forehead kiss...

...or you could continue what you were doing and the first thing ayato takes off is the damned necklace so he could replace it with a smattering of hickeys. your choice ^^

#genshin impact #genshin impact ayato #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #ayato x reader #ayato kamisato x reader #ayato imagines #genshin impact imagines #genshin imagines #ayato x you #for those worried about kazuha dw about it he doesn't want to get married either lol

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beemovieerotica · 11 months ago

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my sibling came out as transfem and honestly this is so awesome and also the funniest thing ever to happen to our parents. law of equivalent exchange. we could have literally swapped deadnames and showed up to reunions like "uhh yeah, i'm steve, don't worry that i'm bald now and four inches shorter. yeah and that's my sister, whom you already know. what? man maybe you just weren't paying attention." untapped comedy potential.

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soulofapatrick · 30 days ago

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The Not-So-Secret Secret - Liam Mairi x female reader

Summary: Liam overhears you fantasising about him

Words: 3.6K

Warnings: none

Notes: Who wouldn’t want a friendship like this with Ridoc, Sawyer and Violet??

Y/N's POV

Lunch in the Rider’s Quadrant is supposed to be a brief respite—a small break from the endless training, a moment of peace before we're thrust back into the chaos of Basgiath. But, with my friends around? Peace is a joke.

Ridoc lounges across from me, his smirk too damn infuriating as he stirs his stew with far too much amusement. Violet props her chin on her hand, watching me like I’m the star of her personal comedy show. Sawyer, the unwilling participant in all our chaos, sits next to me, sighing deeply into his cup like he already knows what’s coming.

And, of course, as always, I’m the topic of discussion.

I glance around the crowded mess hall, my eyes scanning for the familiar form of Liam. I swear, I can’t stop myself from looking for him, even though I know full well I’ll just end up making an idiot of myself when he catches me staring.

But before I can spot him, Ridoc speaks.

“You’re so obvious,” he drawls, his voice lazy but laced with far too much amusement. He taps his spoon against the edge of his bowl like he’s conducting some twisted rhythm. “It’s almost painful to watch.”

I roll my eyes, trying to ignore the heat creeping up my neck. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sawyer huffs a quiet laugh, not even bothering to hide his amusement. “You definitely do.”

Violet grins, leaning forward with that knowing look. “You want us to spell it out? Fine. You stare at Liam like he’s a godsdamned meal, you turn into a stuttering mess when he talks to you, and—oh, wait—didn’t you walk into a pole last week because he smiled at you?”

I groan, slumping forward and burying my face in my hands. “Once. That happened once.”

Ridoc snickers, not missing a beat. “You apologised to the pole.”

Sawyer shakes his head, clearly done with both of them. “You’re aware that most people just… talk to their crushes, right? Instead of ogling them like they’re about to go extinct?”

I lift my head just enough to glare at him. “First of all, I do not ogle him—”

Ridoc snorts. “Oh, babe. You do.”

Violet hums thoughtfully, a smirk playing at her lips. “I mean, to be fair, I’d ogle him too.”

Ridoc grins, his shoulder leaning back casually. “Same.”

Sawyer sighs, running a hand over his face. “I hate both of you.”

Violet nudges my foot under the table, a playful glint in her eyes. “You’re so far gone. What is it? The muscles? The whole ‘dangerous but soft-hearted protector’ thing?”

Ridoc elbows her, joining in. “Or is it the way he looks like he could pick you up and throw you onto a bed like you weigh nothing?”

I shoot them both a withering glare, but they’re not even fazed. “You both suck.”

Violet just laughs, clearly enjoying herself far too much. “I bet he’s great in bed.”

And that’s the moment that seals my fate. Without even thinking, I let out a dreamy sigh, my voice soft and full of wistful longing. “Oh, definitely.”

Sawyer’s fork hits his plate with a loud clatter, his eyes wide with shock. Ridoc and Violet exchange delighted glances, both of them far too entertained by this.

“Oh, please,” Ridoc urges, leaning forward with far too much enthusiasm. “Do go on.”

I should stop. I know I should. But the words just spill out, and I can’t seem to stop myself.

“Okay, just think about it,” I begin, my hands moving as I get more caught up in my own thoughts. “Liam’s always in control, right? He’s always calm, always watching out for everyone. But I bet when he finally lets go?” I exhale sharply. “Gods.”

Ridoc presses a hand to his heart, pretending to swoon. “This is already my favourite meal ever.”

Violet grins wider. “Go on.”

And so, I do.

“He’s so strong,” I continue, eyes wide as I gesture in excitement. “He could pin you down so easily. Hold you right where he wants you.” My voice softens, turning almost reverent. “And he would—he absolutely would. And he’s so thoughtful, you know? He’d pay attention. He’d know exactly what makes you lose control, and he’d use it against you.”

Sawyer makes a strangled noise behind me, while Ridoc actually fans himself, looking delighted.

“I bet he loves praise, too,” I murmur, voice barely above a whisper. “He’s got that heroic streak—he wants to protect, wants to be good at what he does. So imagine what he’d be like in bed if you just—” I trail my fingers along the table, my breath hitching slightly. “If you just moaned his name and told him how good he was—”

Ridoc wheezes, barely able to contain his laughter.

Violet’s eyes are wide, fighting back her own amusement.

Sawyer groans, rubbing his temples like he’s in physical pain.

And that’s when my stomach drops.

I freeze, my mind going completely blank. The atmosphere shifts, and Ridoc’s laughter turns manic while Violet looks far too entertained. Sawyer—traitor that he is—won’t even look at me, staring at his plate like he’s preparing for my inevitable demise.

I slowly turn my head.

And there he is.

Liam Mairi stands right behind me, arms crossed, hazel eyes dark with something unreadable. There’s a slight flush creeping up his neck, but his lips are quirked in the faintest, most infuriating smirk.

I can’t breathe

For what feels like an eternity, there’s nothing but silence. The entire room seems to freeze, and my heart races in my chest like it’s trying to escape. I’m convinced I’ve just combusted, my soul departing from my body as the blood rushes to my ears. I feel like I'm suffocating, trapped in the crushing weight of my own humiliation.

Then, in a voice that’s far too calm, too collected, Liam says, “That’s quite the imagination you’ve got there.”

And just like that, I forget how to exist. My body goes slack, my mind blanking out in the worst possible way. I can't even form a coherent thought. It’s like the universe has decided to prank me on an existential scale.

Ridoc is the first to lose it. He collapses against the table, gasping for breath as he bursts into full-blown, wheezing laughter. I can feel the heat of embarrassment spreading across my face, but there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Sawyer groans in disbelief, slumping in his seat as though he's praying for an escape. And Violet? Violet just watches me with gleaming eyes, too pleased with herself as she waits to see how I handle this nightmare.

And because Liam is a menace, he steps closer. He leans in just enough that his breath ghosts over my ear, and I feel a shiver run down my spine. His voice is low, teasing, and he murmurs, “You could’ve just asked.”

I’m pretty sure I stop breathing entirely, my entire world shrinking down to that one breath, that one infuriatingly calm whisper in my ear. And then—like he didn’t just completely obliterate my existence—he straightens up, grabs an apple from the table like it's the most normal thing in the world, and walks away without another word.

I’m frozen. I don’t even know how I’m still upright. Every single neutron in my brain is fried beyond repair. The weight of my own existence crashes down on me, and I don’t know whether I want to crawl into a hole and die or just evaporate into thin air.

The silence is unbearable. It stretches on like a taut string, a physical thing, as though everyone else in the room is waiting for me to fall apart. And then—

“Oh, fuck, that was beautiful,” Ridoc gasps, still wiping actual tears from his eyes as he struggles to catch his breath. He barely manages to hold himself up, clearly on the verge of total collapse from laughter.

Sawyer exhales deeply, like he’s been holding his breath for an hour. “I think I need a cold shower after that.”

Violet is grinning like a cat that got the cream, her eyes dancing with wicked glee. “So… are you going to ask?”

I groan, burying my face in my arms on the table. This is it. My life is officially over. I’m going to die here, surrounded by the most insufferable friends in existence, right in the middle of the Rider’s Quadrant.

Ridoc is practically howling with laughter now, unable to contain himself any longer. He slides off the bench, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. Violet beams like she just orchestrated the most spectacular thing in the world. Sawyer—poor, long-suffering Sawyer—just groans, his face buried in his hands like he cannot handle the absolute chaos any longer.

Meanwhile, I am completely frozen in place, still reeling from the fact that Liam Mairi—the man I’ve been not-so-secretly fantasising about—just heard everything. And then, then, he had the audacity to whisper in my ear like he hadn't just obliterated every ounce of dignity I’ve ever had.

I am never going to recover from this.

“Holy shit,” Ridoc gasps, still on the floor, clearly out of his mind with laughter. “That was—I am deceased. Do not revive me. Let me die like this.”

Violet sighs dreamily, clearly still basking in the aftermath of the moment. “Gods, that was hot. The way he just—” She mimics Liam’s smirk, deepens her voice mockingly, “‘You could’ve just asked.’” She shudders, as though she felt it too. “I felt that.”

I groan again, shoving her arm away. “You’re not helping.”

“Oh, I never intended to.”

Ridoc finally manages to haul himself back onto the bench, though he’s still wiping tears from his eyes. “You know,” he says between fits of laughter, nudging me with his elbow, “if you want, I can go find him. Tell him you’d like to—what was it?—moan his name and tell him how good he is?”

My soul leaves my body. “Ridoc!”

He grins, unbothered. “What? I’m just being a good friend.”

“You’re the worst friend.”

“Oh, absolutely.”

Violet, still wearing that insufferable smirk, tilts her head with a knowing look. “You do realise you now have zero excuse not to make a move, right?”

I blink at her, not understanding at first. “I—what? No, I absolutely have an excuse. Multiple, actually.” I start counting them off on my fingers. “One: I’ve just suffered a public humiliation the likes of which I will never recover from. Two: I am pretty sure I’ve spontaneously developed a heart condition from that interaction alone. And three: I simply cannot face him after that.”

Sawyer groans, cutting me off with a loud exasperated sound. “For the love of all that is holy, just go after him.”

I blink, completely thrown off by his sudden urgency. “What?”

“I cannot handle any more of this,” he grumbles, dragging a hand down his face like he's dealing with something far beyond his understanding. “I love you, but I am too straight to be forced to think about another man’s dick this much.”

Ridoc cackles like a madman. “You poor, poor thing.”

Sawyer levels him with an exasperated look. “You are thriving in this chaos. I am suffering.” He gestures at me, then at Liam’s retreating figure. “And she’s just sitting here instead of chasing after him like a normal person.”

I sputter, feeling like the world is spinning around me. “Chase after him?!”

Violet hums thoughtfully, a mischievous glint in her eye. “I mean… it would be the logical next step.”

I shake my head, my voice low and shaky. “No, the logical next step is that I pretend this never happened and spend the rest of my life avoiding him—”

Sawyer cuts me off with a sharp, pained groan as he shoves me. “Go.”

“I—”

“Go.”

“I don’t—”

“If you do not get your ass up and go after him, I swear, I will personally tie you to a saddle and deliver you to him myself.”

Ridoc perks up, like he's suddenly interested. “Oh, that sounds fun.”

“Not helping!”

Violet crosses her arms, clearly not letting me off the hook. “Sawyer’s right. You have a literal invitation to make a move. Are you really going to sit here and let it go to waste?”

I groan, slumping further down onto the table. “You all suck so much.”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re the worst,” Ridoc says, rolling his eyes. “Now go get your man.”

I lift my head just enough to glare at them all. “If this ends in disaster, I’m blaming all of you.”

Violet shrugs nonchalantly. “Fair.”

Sawyer gestures toward the door, clearly done with the back and forth. “Please just go before I hear one more word about Liam Mairi’s dick.”

“Don’t forget to suck his-“

I throw a one-finger salute over my shoulder, my heart already in my throat. The last thing I need is Ridoc making more of a spectacle out of this than he already has. Still, I can hear him laughing behind me, Violet trying (and failing) to stifle her giggles, and Sawyer groaning in what I can only assume is pure agony.

I try to focus, pushing past the teasing and the anxiety building in my chest. I need to find Liam. I can’t even think about the fact that he—the person I’ve been obsessing over in the most embarrassing of ways—now knows exactly how I feel. I really need to see him again to figure out if what happened was as insane as I think it was.

As I jog away from the dining hall, the crowd thinning as I round a corner, I spot him just outside. His broad shoulders are visible before anything else—impossible to miss, especially when his presence seems to take up more space than necessary. He’s standing near the stone archway, arms crossed, with that familiar soft smile playing on his lips. I stop short, heart hammering in my chest, legs feeling like they’re made of lead as I stare at him.

What the hell am I even supposed to say?

Liam’s eyes flicker toward me, his smile widening slightly, as if he’d known I’d come running after him. He leans back slightly against the archway, his posture easy and relaxed, and I feel a flutter in my chest that has nothing to do with nerves.

“You know,” he says, his voice warm and inviting, “I didn’t expect you to come after me quite like this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out. Gods, help me. Instead, I shuffle on my feet, trying desperately to act cool, but I can feel the heat creeping up my neck. It’s almost like every ounce of confidence I’ve ever had is being sucked out of me by his gaze.

He pushes off the stone with one hand, his eyes soft but teasing as they meet mine. “I didn’t think I was that irresistible.”

I wince, my blush spreading even further. “You’re not—"

Liam’s eyebrow quirks up, his lips curving into that playful smile I know so well. “Oh, really? Because Ridoc sure seemed to think you were.”

And just like that, the air in my lungs feels like it’s been replaced with stone. Ridoc’s voice echoes in my mind: “Suck his dick, huh?”

Fucking Ridoc.

“I—” I stutter, trying to force words through the haze of panic, but they’re stuck somewhere in my throat. “I don’t—I wasn’t—”

Liam steps closer, slowly, his presence gentle but unmistakable. He reaches out, his hand brushing lightly against my arm, sending a surge of warmth through me. It’s soft, almost tender, like he’s being careful with me, like he’s waiting for something. But the intensity in his gaze tells me that he’s not the least bit uncertain.

“You know,” he murmurs, his voice low, almost teasing, “I’ve been thinking about this. And I think we’re both tired of pretending we don’t want this.”

I open my mouth to respond, but the words catch in my throat. The heat between us is building, and my mind feels hazy. His eyes flicker down to my lips, and then back up, and I swear I see a flicker of something darker in his gaze.

Before I can process what he just said, his hand moves quickly—too quickly for me to react—and he pulls me closer, his fingers wrapping around my waist. My breath catches in my chest as he draws me in, his grip firm but gentle, like he’s in control, like he knows exactly what he wants.

Then, in a move so fast it almost takes my breath away, he spins us around, his body pressing me up against the nearest wall. My hands are pinned above my head, his strong grip keeping me in place. The world seems to stop as I feel the heat of his body against mine, his breath warm on my neck.

There’s no teasing this time. No playful smirk. His face is inches from mine, his expression serious, searching. “Is this what you imagined?” he asks, his voice breathless, a hint of vulnerability behind the intensity.

I freeze, my heart pounding in my chest. The weight of his words hangs in the air between us, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at him. This—this is different. This isn’t the playful Liam I know. This is something raw, something real.

The space between us crackles with heat, the air thick with anticipation, and when his lips finally crash against mine, it’s not soft or hesitant—it’s burning, desperate, and hungry. He moves with a primal need, as if he’s been waiting for this exact moment for far too long.

My breath hitches as his hands grip me, pulling me even closer, pressing my body flush against his. His lips are bruising, demanding, his kiss deep and relentless as if he wants to devour me whole. His tongue slides against mine, coaxing, urging, like he’s trying to erase every ounce of hesitation between us. I can’t think, can’t breathe—there’s nothing but him, nothing but the heat of his body and the intoxicating taste of his kiss.

I lose myself in it, my fingers tangling in his shirt as I tug him closer, needing more, deeper. His hand moves back to my wrist, pinning it above my head against the wall again, his grip tight but not painful, a reminder that he’s in control, that he’s holding me here, with him. His other hand slides down to my waist, tugging me even closer until there’s not an inch of space between us.

His lips shift, feverish, his kiss becoming more insistent, more demanding. His breath is ragged against my lips, each exhale a fire that only fuels the inferno building between us. The sensation of him, the taste of him, consumes me, and for a moment, I forget everything else—the world, the noise, the people around us.

Then, just when I think I can’t take it anymore, just when my mind is a haze of desire and need, he pulls away, his lips barely brushing mine as he pants against my face. His eyes meet mine, dark and heavy with unspoken questions.

“Is this what you imagined?” His voice is low, gravelly, the words thick with longing.

I can barely breathe, let alone form a coherent thought, but somehow, I manage to let out a shaky breath and nod, my hands trembling as I rest them on his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heart under my fingertips. I can still taste him on my lips, still feel the heat of him all around me. My head spins, but I can’t stop smiling. “Yeah,” I whisper, my voice barely a breath. “I think it is.”

Liam’s grin returns, wicked and slow, before he leans in again, his lips hovering just above mine. There’s something different in the way he kisses me this time—softer, more intimate, like he’s savouring every second, every breath.

But just as the world narrows down to nothing but him, just as his lips move with that same heated urgency, an unmistakable wolf-whistle pierces the air.

I freeze, every muscle in my body tensing as a familiar voice rings out through the silence, followed by another.

“Damn, Liam! Save some of that for later!” Ridoc’s voice calls out, his tone mocking but amused.

Sawyer groans in the background, dragging a cackling Ridoc and Violet behind him. The sound of their laughter cuts through the haze of heat between us, and before I can even react, Ridoc’s obnoxious whistle echoes again, followed by a loud, exaggerated "Woo!"

I pull back from Liam, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment, my heart still racing from the kiss. But the moment has shattered, replaced with Ridoc’s teasing and Sawyer’s grumbling.

Liam chuckles softly, his breath still heavy, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes now. “I guess we’ll have to finish this later,” he murmurs, his voice full of promise.

I blink, disoriented, and turn my head to glare at Ridoc, my heart still pounding in my chest. "You’re a real piece of work, you know that?" I mutter, though a smile threatens to break through.

But I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

Fourth Wing Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 12th Oct 2024

@caramelmacchiato07 @fanficscuziranout @daisydark @mariahoedt @marrass @honethatty12 @ladymacbabe

#Liam mairi #liam mairi x reader #Liam mairi x you #Liam mairi x y/n #Liam mairi fourth wing #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #fourth wing Liam mairi #fourth wing Liam #Liam mairi fluff #Liam mairi smut #Liam mairi angst #Liam mairi one shot #Liam mairi imagine #fourth wing imagine

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