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nyasiaaaaa · 4 months

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In the Bleak Mid-Winter

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x Fem reader (Nurse) Fem reader x Arthur ( platonic) Fem reader x John( platonic )

Summary: This is a story about two people who become constants in each others lives, and eventually fall for each. While one learns to love again, the other learns the cost of loving a man like him.

Word count: 3.5k

Warnings: Cursing, blood, death, , drinking, alcohol, talks of war, guns, murder, Tommy Shelby, ( If I missed anything or you think something should be added please tell me.) ( Also Y/N is on dick, IDKY she acts like this)

A/N: part 1 takes place during season two, part 2/3 season 3 and 4/5/6 season 4. This is a Slow burn there will be smut eventually.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 4 Part 5 part 6

*****************************

It was early, though you didn't know how early; sunlight filled the room slowly, and you heard birds chirping in the distance. You were still on the floor, but your position had changed slightly. Tommy was now lying to your right on his side with his head in your lap, and your legs were stretched out in front of you with one hand on your lap and the other playing with his hair. Neither of you had to gone to sleep; even though Tommy's eyes were closed, you knew he wasn't asleep.

You didn't know how long you had been laying there, and honestly, your body was aching, but you were going to stay till he was ready to get up.

It wasn't long after the sun completely filled the room that Tommy got up without a word or a glance in your direction. He walked to the bathroom that was in the room and shut the door, locking it.

You stood up and stretched, then you stood there debating whether to wait for him or leave. He needs space, right?

Yeah— he needed space; you decided to leave and go check on Gracie's body to make sure she was ready to be transported. You headed towards the nurses' station, hoping to get an update.

As you approached the station, you were glad to see a nurse you knew and liked.

"Hey Jackie," your voice fell flat as you slightly smiled.

"Hi, you OK. "

"Yeah, just tired. Uh, did Grace's body get taken care of? Is it all stitched up and down in the morgue?"

"Yeah, and one of the other doctors had to stitch her up. Dr. Brown's hands weren't the steadiest between the Whiskey and Grace dying on his watch. And now the board wants to do an investigation," she said and smacked her teeth.

"I had told them— I told the board that Dr. Brown was a drunk and that It was only a matter of time before someone got killed." You had pushed the papers on the counter in frustration before resting your arms on it and placing your head in your hands. "Maybe— I don't know."

You had been too caught up in your emotions to notice that your friend had gone silent. You didn't notice till someone cleared their throat behind you; slowly, you raised your head to see your friend frozen in fear.

You turned around and saw Tommy standing behind you; he cleared his throat again before licking his lip and then running his cigarette across them. He placed it in his mouth, lit it, and took a long drag, all while his eyes remained on the floor.

Pulling the cig from his lip, he lifted his head to look at you.

His eyes looked different; they were darker, and they looked.... empty.

"I'll send someone for Grace," he said before turning and leaving the hospital.

You watched him as he walked away from you. You wanted to say something, but what could you say?

You just watched him walk away till he was out of your sight.

You were sick, you knew about Dr.Brown, and you never said anything, and now Tommy Kn-

Wait

Tommy had just heard you admit that you knew Dr.Brown was a drunk, and you never told him, and now Grace was dead because of him.

Because of you.

You fell back, but Jackie caught you; people around you asked questions, but you couldn't hear them, let alone see them, as your vision started to get blurry and your chest tightened.

Tommy was going to kill you, no doubt about it.

*******************************

You had yet to die; you were so sure that by nightfall, you would be in a shallow grave right next to Dr.Brown. But surprisingly, you and Dr.Brown were still alive, and it had been one week since Grace's death.

For the first couple of days after Grace's death, you had been slightly paranoid, constantly checking your surroundings on the lookout for Tommy or any peaky man. But after a week of not seeing anyone, you started to calm down.

Everything had been quiet and slow. It didn't feel right, like the calm before the storm.

You had been sitting at the nurse's station doing paperwork when a fellow nurse came up to you and told you that you had been requested to exam room one.

You were petrified.

You got up slowly from your chair. Your legs had a slight shake to them as you walked. Had he done this on purpose? Did he wait you out just to kill you when you least expected it? Your breath started to come out shaky, and you started feeling light-headed. You looked at the wall, counting down the exam rooms as you walked. It was like the universe was laughing at you, giving you your very own count down to your death, 5….4….3….2…1.

You stood in front of exam room one.

It was time.

You couldn't move, your arms felt glued to your side, you couldn't move them, you couldn't open the curtain.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath.

On three, you would go in.

One

Two

Three

You didn't move, not an inch.

You felt like screaming; you brought your hands up to your mouth to keep you from making a sound.

Your face suddenly felt cold and wet; you reached up to touch your cheek; it was tears you were crying.

You couldn't do this. Maybe you could run away; you did have an Aunt in America somewhere, you think. You could-

The curtain was pulled back, and in front of you stood John and Arthur.

You started to back up, and your tears flowed more freely.

"No, no, no, Please," you sob out.

Arthur said your name as he reached for you, but you flinched away and continued to back up until you hit a wall.

You were trapped; there was nowhere you could run, so you just slid down the wall and curled into yourself.

"Calm down, will you? I don't know what you think is going on, but we need your help," John said

You raised your head out of your knees and looked up to John before looking over at Arthur.

"It's true here; take my hand," he said, reaching his hand out to you; you hesitated but eventually took it. He helped you up to your feet, guided you into the exam room, and closed the curtains behind y'all.

"What do you need?" your voice was strained, and you kept sniffing.

Arthur took out his handkerchief, handing it to you; you took it and wiped your face.

The two shared a look before Arthur spoke up, "Tommy wants the doctor dead, the one who worked on Grace."

You were confused. If they weren't here to kill you, then what did they want, and why are they telling you this.

"OK, what does that have to do with me?"

"The Doctor isn't taking any visitors or new patients. He's keeping himself locked up, and we're having difficulty getting to him. We need your help. Tommy said you would know how to help." John was blunt, and while Arthur stood, there was a look on his face that you could quite read. You had heard that the Doctor locked himself up in his office days ago, so it made sense that they couldn't reach him.

You had assumed Tommy was talking about taking the Doctor down the hall you snuck him out of. It made sense; they could snatch him as soon as he walked out the door, he wouldn't suspect a thing, and there would be no witness. It's not like anyone would snitch anyway.

You didn't take a second to think about it cause there was nothing to think about. You had no choice but to help them, so you said, "OK, follow me."

You lead them to the hallway and out the door; you tell them your plan and tell them to wait there for you. Once they understood, you left them and headed towards Dr. Brown's office.

You walked fast. There was no reason to drag this out.

You arrived at his office and jiggled the handle, but it was locked, so you reached up and knocked.

"Doctor, it me open up. It's me, Dr.Brown; open up."

You heard footsteps approach the door, then a lock turn; he peeked out the door slightly before shutting it again. You were confused and about to knock again when you heard stuff being moved around. He must've barricaded himself inside, not taking any risk.

You waited, and soon, he came to the door again and opened it; he pulled you inside before closing the door and locking it again.

It smelled like shit,

you looked around; the room was a mess; the trash cans were overfilled, spilling onto the floor, papers were everywhere, and furniture was tossed around. You turned back to look at the Doctor, who was already looking at you. He looked like he had been rolling around dirty; his clothes and hair were all messed up, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.

You felt bad for what you were about to do.

"They're here, Tommy, Arthur, John. They're all here. They're looking for you." You tried to sound panicked so he would believe you.

He started to pace around the floor and ran his finger through his hair. "What—here—no, no." He stopped and turned to look at you. "Why are you here, you with them? You here to kill me, please, please don't. I'm a good guy; you know I'm a good guy." Tears fell down his face as he got on his knees in front of you and begged.

You felt your eyes start to water; you couldn't do this; you panicked and turned your back towards him.

You closed your eyes and calmed yourself down.

You turned back to face him and hoped he wouldn't read into what just happened.

"Get up; I'm not here to kill you; I'm here to help you."

"What"

"If I was with them, they would have come through the doors instead of me. Now Get Up!"

He looked at you briefly, got up, grabbed some cash from his desk, and met you at the door.

"OK, we'll have to be quick; they could be anywhere. I will let you out on the south side, and after that, you're on your own." He nodded at you, tears still falling from his eyes.

You quickly opened the door before you could stop yourself. You pretended to check if the coast was clear before telling him to follow you.

Your walk to the south end of the hospital felt so slow but fast at the same time. You were approaching the final stretch of hallway, the door was in your sight, and you picked your pace up,

you just wanted to get this over with.

"Thank you so much. I had prayed for a way out, and in came you."

His words caused you to let a few tears sip; you quickly wiped them and reached out to open the door.

As soon as the both of y'all were out the door and it closed, Arthur and John came around from the wall. You heard him panic but kept walking straight. He yelled your name as he begged for his life,

that only made you walk even faster.

You passed Arthur and John, but you didn't look them in the eye; you couldn't.

You heard the gun cock, and that's when his begging ended, and he started saying prayers.

"By The Order Of The Peaky Blinders"

Then the gun went off.

You jumped, frightened, and quickened your pace.

You walked to the front of the building and into the hospital. You walked up to the nurses' station and grabbed your things. Some other nurses were there, and you told them you weren't feeling well and would be out for a few days. You didn't wait to hear their response and rushed home.

When you got home, you immediately went and showered; you felt dirty. You were in there for over an hour, and you kept soaping up and washing it off over and over again. No matter how hard you scrubbed, you still felt like there was blood on you.

When you finally got out of the shower, your skin was sore, and you were tired. You were too tired to even put clothes on; you hopped on your bed in your towel and balled yourself up real tight.

At the angle you were lying at, you could see yourself in the mirror; you just looked at yourself.

It wasn't like you were looking at a completely different person; you knew it was you. It wasn't a stranger in the mirror. It was just a different version of you that you hadn't seen since the war.

A version you didn't want coming back.

************************************

It had been a month since you saw Tommy and a few weeks since the Dr.Brown thing.

You had taken a week off to handle your emotions; it was your first week back, and you were doing fine. You weren't your happiest self, but you spoke when you were spoken to, ate with everyone else, and even laughed at people's jokes.

Was any of it genuine? No, but you are all about faking it till you make it.

You had also been trying to write a letter to Tommy. It will say how you are genuinely grateful for everything that he has done, but you can't do this anymore. You would back pay him in rent when you could, but for now, if he could stop the protection detail and send his men to get fixed up, you would greatly appreciate it.

You were having a hard time sounding stern. You had to make sure he understood that you couldn't do this anymore; you couldn't keep a man like him in your life,

cause it was starting to cost you.

You were chewing on your pencil as you stared down at the letter you had written. The paper was smudged, and eraser pieces were everywhere.

You had glanced up the clock to check the time; it was late, a quarter to midnight. You were working a night shift at the hospital; it wasn't bad. It was a chill night, pretty quiet.

You stood up about to get a snack when you heard a tire screech outside; you peeked around the corner and saw a car in the ambulance bay; it must have been pretty serious if someone had driven here instead of calling an ambulance. You started walking towards the door of the bay when they suddenly burst open; a young lady yelled as she fell back.

"Help, please, someone help."

You rushed over to help her, and that's when you realized the woman was Ada and the man she was holding in her arms was

Tommy.

"Ada, what happened?" You grabbed Tommy off her and signed for her to stand up; together, you both lifted him on a gurney and rushed him to an exam room.

"I don't know, h-he said," She was struggling to speak as she cried, "he said he had a cracked skull, concussion, internal bleed, and something about hemorrhaging."

You looked at her, confused; if he had all that, he would be dead right now; he should be dead. You placed Tommy in a room and started to look him over; he was severely injured.

"OK, Ada, look at me." You grabbed her arm tightly to get her attention. "I needed you to run towards the hospital's front desk and tell them that I need help. OK, say my name and tell them I need a neurosurgeon to come." She looked at you, hesitant to leave Tommy

"Please, Ada, I can only do so much."

She nodded and took off. You put gloves on before assessing Tommy.

He had bruised ribs and a dark purple stomach; he might have been right about the internal bleeding; you went up to check his pupil reacting, and you grabbed his head softly, turning it up toward you before flashing your light. One eye was blown, but the other was good.

He was in serious trouble; the likelihood of him dying outweighed the possibility of him not.

You were about to walk away to grab some gauze when someone grabbed your wrist; you tuned in and saw Tommy blinking; you rushed over and stood over him.

"Tommy, hey, can you see me? Can you hear me? You are in the hospital. Everything's going to be OK." He let out grunts of noise, not making any sense.

"Shhh, it's OK. Don't speak, please; you might hurt yourself."

"G-Grace "

You immediately got nervous; if he was seeing Grace, he didn't have much time left.

"Tommy, no, it's me, hey, it's me." You grabbed his face in your hands and made him look at you.

He whispered your name.

"Yeah, Tommy, it's me." Tears had been falling from your face, but you didn't notice until you tasted them.

"Yo- You h-hav-e to P-ull me out."

"What?" You reached up to wipe your tears; you were so confused.

"Pu-ll me out." That time, he spoke just above a whisper, but you still heard him and were still confused.

The Doctor then rushed in and quickly assessed Tommy; Ada stood behind in the distance.

You stayed next to Tommy; you held his hand instead of his head, out of the Doctor's way.

Before you knew it, other nurses had pushed the wheels into a moving position. They were about to take off towards the surgery room. You jogged alongside them to the room.

"It's going to be OK, Tommy; they're going to take good care of you, OK?" You squeezed his hand for reassurance.

"In t-he-"

"What, what did you say?" You leaned closer to his face to hear him better.

"In the Bleak Mid-winter"

You had reached the surgical room and let his hand go; you didn't want to put up a fight; this wasn't your specialty. You knew you would only delay his care if you fought to be in the room when you weren't needed.

You had slowly walked back to the ER; your mind raced so fast you couldn't keep up.

You had heard that before; you didn't know where, but you were sure you'd heard "In a bleak mid-winter" before. And not at church but in a way Tommy just said, in a "final good-bye" kind of way

You were so confused and so caught up in your thoughts that you didn't even realize that you had made it back to the ER. Once you pushed through the door, you were immediately rushed by Tommy's family, who asked you a million questions.

You backed up a bit before speaking.

"I don't know anything. I don't know if he will live or die. I don't know the extent of his injuries. All I know is that he's in good hands; this Doctor is the best in the county. "

Even though no one seemed satisfied with your answer, they all backed off. You had decided to lead them to the same private room they were in before to await Tommy's fait. You had been waiting no longer than 20 minutes when a nurse came in; you had all gotten a bit nervous, someone coming in so soon.

He had to be dead.

He wasn't, though, and the nurse had just come to gather some information about Tommy.

Ada helped, and you stared off, trying to remember. You weren't listening to them, but she said something that caught your attention.

"What did you say?" You asked Ada; you had pushed yourself slightly out of your seat to get closer to her and hear her properly.

"I said Tommy was a tunneler in the war and had been in a Tunnel collapse."

You nodded your head slowly as you sat back down,

"In a bleak mid-winter," you whispered as you slowly remembered where you had heard that before; your head was starting to hurt as the memories came rushing back in.

It all started to make sense now, from your first in contour, the way he looked at you, and why he trusted you so quick without even knowing you, not only with his life but with his men, Grace, and his son. The reason he pays your rent and the reason you have a protection detail.

You never understood it before; you never understood how you made such an impression on Tommy after one night or why he made you a constant in his life.

But now you understand, this isn't the first time you met Tommy.

You met him all those years ago when you dug him out of the dirt, brought him back, and saved his life.

That's what he meant with Grace, how you saved him but couldn't save her.

He knew who you were this whole time, yet he didn't say anything.

Why didn't he say anything?

#tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby x reader #peaky blinder fanfic #cillian murphy #cillian x fem!reader #thomas shelby x y/n #thomas shelby #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby

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imgoingtofreakoutnow · 2 months

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you're a bad idea (i'll never say no to)

Summary: After an awful one night stand, you find some comfort (and more) in an unlikely source

Pairing: Nick Miller x fem!reader

Words: 3.3k

Warnings: 18+, oral sex (fem receiving), sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption, mentions of cheating

A/N: i remembered i had this draft lying around and it was not as bad as i thought, so here it is for y'all to enjoy!!

Tagging: @tripleyeeet @elfinbloodbag @fictionobsession (not sure if you care about nick miller, but if you do, i hope y'all enjoy!! if you don't want to be tagged, let me know <3)

\_/

Entering the loft, you found Nick laying on the couch in complete darkness. You only noticed him because of the dim light that shone through the windows. His eyes were stuck to the ceiling, his hand wrapped around a bottle of booze that, in the darkness, you couldn’t entirely make out.

“Hey, Nick.”

He groaned, raising his bottle in what you imagined was his way of greeting you home.

“Anyone else home?”

He answered with another —negative— groan, putting his lips around the bottle and taking a long sip. You sat down on the other end of the couch, reaching out for the bottle that, after a scowl, he handed to you.

“So, what are we drinking for?” you asked, after gulping down some of the liquor. Probably whiskey, given the burning taste it left in your mouth.

“I’m drinking,” he started as he sat up on the couch, “because life sucks.”

“Preach.”

You took another sip under Nick’s tipsy but inquisitive stare.

“Why are you drinking?”

“Can’t I just drink because I want to?”

Nick raised his eyebrows, scoffing slightly and raising his hands in surrender. “Trust me, I won’t be the one to stop you.”

You nodded, lowering your gaze on the glass bottle in your hands as you pondered pensively if it was wise to drink more of that. You had to show up at work the next day, you couldn’t miss another shift without a reasonable excuse.

“Didn’t you have that big thing tonight?”

Your fingers tightened around the neck of the bottle.

“Yeah, you had that date with the guy you met a while back at the bar.” He turned towards you, his elbow resting on the back of the sofa. “How did it go?”

You didn’t answer. You just took another swing of the liquor —definitely whiskey, your burning throat confirmed— before giving the bottle back to Nick.

“Wow…” he chuckled as he placed the whiskey on the floor, “that bad, uh?”

“I mean…” You threw your head back on the couch. “It wasn’t going that badly but then…” You groaned in frustration, covering your face with your hands.

Nick scooted a little closer, the leather of the couch creaking under him. “Well, well, color me intrigued.”

Your arms fell to your lap as you skeptically looked at him. “I don’t think you really want to hear anything regarding my misadventures in dating.”

“You underestimate me, I love hearing about other people’s misfortunes.” He took the bottle once again before handing it back to you with a smile. “Makes me feel better about my awful life.”

You snorted as you gladly accepted his offer.

“Well, then you’re really going to enjoy this.”

“His mom?!”

You nodded, squeezing your eyes through the embarrassment. Your hand moved on his own and brought the nearly empty bottle to your lips; some more booze to hopefully quiet down those memories freshly ingrained in your brain.

“And she did not only walk in on us having sex, but she also started giving both of us a lecture on protections, trust and cheating…”

“Don’t tell me he has a girlfriend,” he murmured, already in a fit of giggles.

“He has a girlfriend! Good job, Miller!”

You clapped as you watched Nick almost rolling with laughter. His head was thrown back, his body incredibly close to falling flat either on the couch or the ground, depending on which direction he swayed in. Every time you thought he was about to fall face-first into the floor, and every time he managed to balance himself at the last moment and not break his nose.

“That’s the LA experience right there, little Day.” He gave you a fist bump and stole the bottle from you. “You haven’t lived here unless you’ve had at least one weird hook-up.”

As he downed what remained of the whiskey, you realized how cute he looked when he smiled. In the two weeks since you had ‘moved in’ with your sister, crashing in her shared apartment while you looked for one of your own, Nick Miller hadn’t exactly been Mr. Sunshine. The moment you had set your foot through the door of the loft, he had made clear he didn’t love the idea of you staying there —or at least, that was before you said you were going to help with the rent— and since then, whenever you were around he acted more like a robot than a human.

Answering in monosyllables, sometimes even ignoring you when you were in the room, it was almost logical that you had come to the conclusion that Nick Miller hated you.

“He does not hate you,” Jess had assured you despite your skepticism. “He’s just not the biggest fan of change.”

Telling the truth, from what you had seen so far, Nick wasn’t the biggest fan of anything. He spent most of his day complaining about everything he could think about. The half-broken sink. The socio-economic injustice that plagued the US. Pants with tight crotches.

But most of all, something that he avoided like the plague itself: talking with other people. Sure enough, he and the other three roommates talked all the time: always fighting, bickering, gossiping, bothering each other in that irritating but loving way that you —as a sibling— could understand. However, when it came to opening up and communicating without filters or jokes, it seemed like he would’ve much preferred jumping off the roof of the loft than to actually say how he felt. He could do it, but he always seemed about to puke when he had to.

After the cold shoulder he gave you for two weeks, you were surprised that you were able to have a civil conversation with him at all. Obviously there were no feelings or any other deep emotional stuff, but it was still baffling how easy it was to just be with him like that.

Maybe it was just the booze.

“I bet you’ve had many weird hook-ups,” you teased him, poking his leg with your shoe.

“I’ve…” Nick trailed off for a moment, his eyes following the shape of your leg —from the ankle to the knee— before clearing his throat and looking away. “I’ve had my fair share.”

You raised your eyebrows, tilting your head as you watched Nick in the dim light. It might’ve been the booze, but he looked incredibly hot. Since you had arrived at the loft, your eyes had always been drawn to Nick, one way or the other. You often found yourself lingering on him as he walked by, replaying every interaction you two shared in your head for hours before letting it go.

His scruffy attractiveness wasn’t a subjective matter, it was a fact. But at that specific moment, there was just something more to him. Perhaps it was his hair, all messed up and going in all different directions, or his cheeks, slightly flushed because of the whiskey… or perhaps —you thought— because of you.

When he looked back at you he scoffed, shaking his head and standing up, his gaze glued to the ceiling.

“Don’t look at me like that, little Day.”

“Like what, Nick?”

He didn’t answer: he just stepped away from the couch, heading to the kitchen while chanting no to himself. You followed him with your eyes as he opened the fridge and took a beer. The condensation glistened on the glass as Nick opened the bottle and brought it to his lips. You swallowed as you watched him drink, transfixed by the movement of his Adam’s apple with every gulp he took.

He came back to the couch, sitting on the other end of it, putting as much distance between you two as he could. Despite that, he kept glancing at you before looking away immediately after.

“You’re Jess’ younger sister.”

“I’m aware of that.”

“She will kill me if I…” His eyes darted to your face, falling to your mouth and then lowering even more. “If we…”

“If we what?”

He shook his head and took another long sip of beer, avoiding your piercing stare.

Frowning in annoyance, you stood up and plopped on the couch next to him. You took the beer from his hand and put it on the shelves behind the couch. When you did, your fingers brushed: despite the cold bottle in his hands, his skin was warm. You blamed the booze for the thoughts that started filling your head, wondering how his fingers would’ve felt on you.

“If we what, Miller?”

Nick took a deep breath before turning towards you with a wry smile. “It’s the rules of the loft, little Day.” He moved one arm on the back of the couch, just behind your shoulders. “As roommates, we vowed not to nail each other or each other’s siblings.”

You raised your eyebrow with a smirk. “So you want to nail me?”

“I never said that,” Nick pointed out immediately, shaking his head with a smile, “and I’m ready to deny these accusations in court.”

You nodded slowly, biting the inside of your cheek.

“So…” you started again, shifting on your seat until your shoulder was pressed against his side, “you don’t want to nail me?”

The smile on his face faded, leaving behind just a hint of softness in his features. “I never said that either.”

He stood still, looking into your eyes while someone shouted in the streets below and a far away car alarm kept ringing. A shiver ran down your spine as his fingers moved on the back of your neck, brushing on your skin and leaving behind a trail of fire. You held your breath for a moment, getting used to the sensation and keeping your tipsy mind from roaming too far away.

“I see,” you whispered as your fingers moved along his jaw, the rough stubble grazing against your fingertips. “It must be a very hard decision for you.”

He nodded, his mouth opening ever so slightly when you pressed your thumb on his bottom lip, still damp from the beer. You leaned in, stopping just a couple of inches from his face. So close that you could feel his breath on your face.

“Then I’ll leave you to it.”

You pulled away with a smirk, quite amused by Nick’s annoyed face. “So you can make up your mind without any distractions.”

You pushed yourself up, headed to Jess’ bedroom. You were already dreading sleeping once again on the air mattress that she had kindly lent you when a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you back on the couch.

As you fell across Nick’s lap, one of his arms wrapped around your back and the other held your waist. His mouth was on yours before you could say or do anything, and when his lips started moving your brain melted just as much as your body did in his hold. It was unexpected, a mess of crashing limbs and lips that tasted of alcohol and poor decisions, and a warmth almost too intense for your fogged mind.

When you pulled away, breathless after just a few seconds, you found him staring at you, his lips parted as he inhaled shakily and a longing glimmer in his eyes.

“I think I might’ve made up my mind.”

You snorted, gently holding his neck as you ran your thumbs along it. “Took you long enough.”

Your back soon met the cushions of the couch as he cupped the back of your neck —tugging ever so slightly at your hair— and dove back onto your mouth, deepening the kiss when you parted your lips again. Gripping his scratchy flannel, you pulled Nick closer as you kissed him back, wrapping your legs around him. When you felt his crotch pressing against your core, a groan of desire left your lips, silenced by Nick’s mouth while his hands wondered along your thighs and towards the hem of your shorts.

“Jess can never know about this,” he stressed as he pulled away, just enough for your eyes to meet. “Ever,” he added, your lips brushing when he spoke.

“I’ve lied successfully to my sister thousands of times.” You nudged your nose against his with a smirk. “What about you, sweaty-back? Will you be able to hide it?”

Nick rolled his eyes, half a smile gracing his face before you pulled him back in for another kiss. Despite the stubble, his lips were soft and gentle, even when you were eating each other’s mouths. It might’ve been the booze that still lingered on them, but the more you drowned in their taste, the more intoxicating it got and the harder it was to pull away from them, even to just breathe.

“Maybe-” you gasped, moaning softly while Nick left a trail of kisses down your neck and along your collarbone, “maybe we should go to your room. Before anyone-”

He shoved those few words back in your throat with another kiss, pushing your shirt up as his hands glided along your skin. His warm palms pressed against your bare waist created a loud cacophony of sensations which made your guts twist all around.

“Yeah,” he nodded as he pulled away, his cheeks flushed and his lips ever so slightly glimmering with spit in the dim light. “Let’s do that.”

It took you all of your self-control not to drag him back on top of you.

He clumsily stood up, his legs all tangled in yours, and then helped you to your feet. Before you could take another step, Nick placed his hands on your waist and pulled you into him. His mouth was back on your neck, almost tickling as he kept kissing and sucking your skin.

“Nick, I swear to God,” you muttered between a giggle and a moan as he dragged you both to his room, “if you give me a hickey I-”

His mouth moved from your jaw and sloppily closed around yours. His tongue moved on your lips, that opened to it without any resistance. You threw your arms over his shoulders, pulling him in as he blindly opened the door and then closed it.

After hearing the lock click, you felt the plywood pressing against your back while his mouth wandered even deeper into yours. Your hands tightened on his hair, gaining a moan from Nick that died in your throat.

When he finally pulled away, the only sound in Nick’s bedroom was your heavy breathing as your lungs slowly filled.

“As I was saying,” you sighed with trembling voice, “I will not hesitate one second to throw you under the bus.”

“God.” His whisper brushed onto your numb-kissed mouth, his fingers cupping your jaw and running on your bottom lip. “Do you ever shut up?”

You threw your head against the door, eyebrows cocked and a smirk gracing your glistening lips.

“Do you want me to shut up?” With your eyes glued to Nick’s, you hooked your finger to his jeans and pulled him in. “Or do you want to hear me scream, Miller?”

“Fuck!”

The moan left your mouth louder than you expected as Nick curled his fingers inside of your cunt, reaching the deepest part of you before pulling them out and then thrusting them in at an agonizing pace.

“Do you like this?”

His whispered question hit your inner thigh, followed by the grazing of his beard as he let his lips run over your skin. His warm breath brushed on your core, tingling on the wet and sensitive skin between your legs.

“Yeah,” you breathed, nodding quickly as you watched him pushing his fingers in again, both of them disappearing inside of you up to his knuckles. “Can you go faster?”

Nick chuckled against your leg, curling his fingers once more —almost touching that soft spot inside of you— before slowly pulling them out. You groaned, throwing your head back on the pillows, while he moved the sticky fingers up and down your thigh.

“You don’t have a grain of patience in you.”

“Well, at least I’m not edging someone who’s had a terrible-”

You took a sharp breath in when his tongue lapped your folds, his hands grabbing your legs and pulling you closer. Before you could even think about anything else, he wrapped his lips around your clit and started sucking onto it, stealing another loud whimper from you.

“God, you’re so loud.”

His words rumbled against your slick, twisting the knot in your abdomen that was aching to be released. You bit down on your lip as you felt a flush of warmth growing on your face, suddenly too aware of yourself, too bare in front of him. Then a soft tapping on your thigh drew your gaze back between your legs. Nick was there, looking back at you with a smirk pulling upwards his lips damp with your slick.

“I love it.”

Your throbbing core sent one last aching pulse before Nick, his eyes still stuck in yours, dove right back into it. When his tongue slithered inside you, lapping your folds and walls, you closed your eyes as your mouth started letting out the most lewd sounds you had ever heard.

He kept fucking you with his tongue, moving it back and forth as you bucked your hips towards him for more friction, chasing that release you’d been looking for all night. Then Nick turned his head ever so slightly —an accident, probably just trying to find a position that hurt less for his neck— and, with every thrust inside of you, his nose started nudging your clit. Over, and over, and over.

Your hand jolted to his hair, keeping his face in place as you bucked your hips again and again, as much as you could despite the rush of pleasure that was starting to overcome you, the same rush that had transformed you in a whimpering mess, unable to form one single word.

“Fuck- I-”

Whatever you wanted to say, it died in your mouth as his tongue curled inside of you and his nose nudged once more against your clit. That was the last push you needed; soon after you were writhing in the bed, your hands tightening around Nick’s hair as the knot in your abdomen finally loosened and a sudden warmth rushed to your face, and every other inch of your body.

As your muscles and grip eventually relaxed, you felt one final lick running along your sensitive and over-stimulated folds before Nick sneaked out of the nestled spot between your legs.

“So.”

He crawled to the spot next to you, his fingertips roaming along your sternum as your chest kept slowly raising and falling with each breath you took. With the rush of adrenaline and desire still running through your veins, even his ghost touch was enough to make your insides tremble.

“So what?” you breathed, turning your head to meet that annoying, attractive grin — still glistening with your cum.

“Was it or was it not the best oral of your life?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“I see, you’re speechless.” He nodded to himself. “Understandable, I’ve trained a lot for this.”

“Ah, yes…” you chuckled lightly, taking his hand in yours and playing with his fingers. “Nothing more romantic than to hear about your previous one night stands.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Was this supposed to be romantic?”

“This? God, no! But next time…”

Nick scoffed. “You’ve already decided there’s going to be a next time?”

“Why not?”

“Little Day…”

Before he could say more — before he could try and convince you how that was a really bad idea — you pushed yourself up and sat on his abdomen, legs spread on either side of his body.

“I mean, at least let me ride you before you decide.”

His mouth hung open for a few seconds, a couple of terrifying seconds. Then his hands slowly crept along your thighs, taking hold of your flesh with a mischievous grin.

“I would never say no to that.”

#nick miller x reader #nick miller #new girl #jessica day #annie writes

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homelanderbutbig · 3 months

Text

To Care About Someone (G/T Homelander x Reader)

1426 words. Pure fluff. Homelander is 8 feet tall. Reader is non-descriptive. Beginnings of a relationship.

The first time Homelander took you flying.

Since you've become friends with Homelander, you have spent many an hour up in his penthouse talking with him. Not about anything important, just regular everyday work-related chitchat. As he doesn't really have any other acquaintances to talk to, you figure he welcomes the distraction from his gruelling schedule. And you also like to have company at work; nobody else in your department will even entertain the idea of small talk.

Normally, you and Homelander meet in his penthouse at the same time each afternoon for your little conversations. For whatever reason, today he's requested you come up after your shift has ended in the evening.

Once your work day is finished, you make your way up to his penthouse. You step out of the elevator and walk into his living room, finding him already seated on the couch.

"Glad to see you made it," he remarks, showing off his canines as he beams down at you. You return the smile while climbing onto his oversized couch, taking your seat next to him.

"What did you want to talk about, Homelander?" you ask, sitting as professionally as you can. It's quite a contrast from Homelander, whose body language is very relaxed while his rests one of his legs on his coffee table.

"I just wanted to get to know you a bit better, ask you about yourself," he answers nonchalantly, propping one of his arms on the back of the couch. "That's what friends do, right?"

You can't help but giggle at his awkward attempt at participating in normal human behaviour. You think it's cute, but it's just because you believe he's never really had friends before.

In reality, this after-work engagement with you is something Homelander has been planning for the past few days. Not once in his entire life has he ever organically made a friend before, especially one that isn't afraid of him like you. He has been researching books and analyzing many films on how to solidify his friendship with you. Generally, your meetings together center around work matters. You have never talked to him about your past or personal interests, and he never thought to ask.

You answer all of Homelander's questions honestly, about your goals, your hobbies, and your life before moving to New York. All of your average human experiences that are so alien to him. The entire time, he is entirely enthralled by your stories, quietly listening to your every word. Not once does he interrupt you, or take his eyes off you. This is the complete opposite of every other talk you've had with him. Usually, he is the one leading the discussions, which tend to revolve around him and his problems. Right now he's studying you like he's preparing for a test.

After some time, you happen to look over at the penthouse window. When you first sat down, the sky outside was a dull blue; now it's pitch black.

"Oh jeez, how late is it?" you wonder, taking a look at the time on your phone. You are shocked to see you've been talking to Homelander for quite a few hours longer than you normally do. "Shoot, I missed my bus," you note, sliding off the couch. "I'll have to catch a taxi home."

"Nonsense," he interjects, waving his hand at your silly human conundrum. "I can fly you home."

"Oh, um," you mutter. "It's fine, Homelander, thanks. Really, I can just hail a cab."

"It's the least I can do," he remarks, tilting his head at your hesitance about his proposition. "A taxi at this time of night? Please, I can get you home in a minute flat."

He watches as you stand in front of the couch, frozen in place. The sound of your quickening heartbeat is confusing to him. This isn't just something he would offer to any other mudperson; you should be honoured at his proposal.

"I, um…" you mumble, looking down at the floor. You know Homelander can sense your fear, so there's no point in lying to him. "I'm… afraid of heights."

"You know I'm not going to drop you, right?" he tries to reassure you, standing up off the couch and to his full height. He tucks his hands behind his back, taking on his go-to 'nurturing leader' stance.

"It doesn't make it any less scary," you reflect, looking up at him as he saunters over in front of you.

"I'll hold onto you tight and fly slow," he tells you, putting one of his big hands on your shoulder. "It's not a problem, I'll keep you safe. Trust me."

"…Okay," you finally acquiesce, sighing when you realize he is not going to let this go. This is a perfect opportunity for him to prove what a good friend he can be, whether you like it or not.

Slowly, Homelander lowers himself down and picks you up, carefully keeping you secured in his massive arms, up against his padded chest. He holds you like you are a small child, shielding your vision from the outside world with one hand covering the back of your head.

Walking over to his balcony launch pad, he bends his knees and propels himself into the night sky. While his cruising speed is closer to 1800 kilometers an hour, he consciously keeps himself at a far slower pace for your comfort.

Despite his best efforts, he can still observe your immense terror. Even with the noise of the city and the wind blowing strongly, the sounds of your rapid breathing and accelerated pulse pounds loudly in his ears. Glancing down at you, he sees that your eyes are glued shut, not risking even the slightest chance of seeing the city far below you.

Usually Homelander couldn't be bothered about the welfare of those he's flying. However, your own anxiety is seeping into him. He grips onto you a bit tighter, not to ensure your safety, but to calm himself down. He's never felt this way about another person, this desire to prove himself to you without any expectations in return. Is this what it feels like to care about someone?

Luckily, as he promised, he arrives at your home after a minute of flight. He gradually descends to the ground, touching down as lightly as he can. Gently, he releases you from his arms and keeps a hand on your back while you regain your bearings.

"There, that wasn't so bad, was it?" he asks, shooting you a soft smile.

"Uh… no, I guess," you eventually utter after catching your breath. Fortunately, right now the entire experience is just a blur in your mind. "Thank you Homelander, I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it, it's what I do," he proclaims, puffing his chest out like a proud peacock. Although he is doing his best to give you a display of suave posturing, you can see a different story playing out in his eyes. The little hints of genuine happiness from your thanks, how grateful he is to prove his commitment of friendship to you. You aren't like everyone else he has to deal with; this really means a lot to him.

"Well, it is late. I'd better get inside and go to sleep," you tell him. "But I promise I will visit first thing in the morning, okay?"

"I'll be waiting," he responds, giving you a salute as he watches you enter your home and wave him goodbye.

He launches himself at full speed into the air, the force of which is audible to you even inside your home. But he doesn't fly back to the Tower right away.

Unbeknownst to you, Homelander hovers in the night sky, using his X-ray vision to watch you move around inside your home. He doesn't understand why, but he there is a small part of him that wants to make sure you get into your bed, to see you wrap yourself in your blankets and fall asleep. He wants to know that you're safe.

And even when he does zoom back to his penthouse, that small part of him is still thinking about you. The way that, in spite of your fears, you trusted him with your life to fly you home. He wonders if this is what it's like to have a friend. He wonders if you will have another late night conversation with him. He wonders if you trust him enough to let him fly you home again.

And most of all, he wonders if you're dreaming about him like he is about you.

#the boys #the boys tv #homelander #homelander x reader #g/t #size difference #my writing

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luveline · 2 years

Text

baby fever, part five [remus lupin x reader]

"You are thinking so loudly," Remus mutters, exasperated. "What? Do you want a kiss?"

"No," you deny guiltily.

"Worse than a kiss?"

summary: you and remus aren’t brave enough to say it, so you find ways to show it [16k]

tags: smut 18+ please, fluff, new established relationship, marauders era, fem reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, post hogwarts

chapter list | playlist | my masterlist

Remus sounds exhausted over the phone. "Hey dove," he says.

It's been a few days since you've seen each other, both busy with work, though he rings everyday when he comes home and everyday you answer.

"Hi," you say, yawning loudly and covering your mouth at the last second.

He laughs too much for something so simple. "You sound tired," he says.

"How'd you figure, hotshot?" you drawl sarcastically.

"Alright, alright. Do you want me to leave you to it?"

You slouch against the wall and wrap the telephone wire around your wrist, the red curls digging into your skin. "You don't have work tomorrow, do you?"

"No," he says, sounding like he knows what you're going to ask and he's immeasurably pleased.

"Are you busy?" you ask suspiciously.

"I'm not busy," he says, humour colouring his words.

"Are you lying to me? 'Cos James still hasn't forgiven me for you ditching him last Friday, and it's making me blue."

"I'm sorry.” You can practically hear him rolling his eyes over the phone. "How blue you are."

"Laugh it up!" you encourage him. "An immovable wedge has been driven between me and a good friend because you're a terrible liar, but I'm glad you find it funny. I don't know why I put up with you."

"What are you gonna do, dove? Gonna call your other boyfriend?"

You laugh as heat crawls over your skin. "Whatever. I was gonna invite you over, but that boat is sailing. Has sailed, even."

"Right, right. So if I come by in half an hour you'll turn me away?"

"Try twenty minutes and I might let you in."

"I can do ten if I'm staying the night."

You grin, lips pressing together to hide your happy inhale. "I'll see you in ten, then."

"Alright," he says, voice lilting. "See you in ten."

You hang up the phone and throw yourself into a hurry of cleaning, first the flat and then yourself. You pile all the dirty dishes in the sink. You'll get to them when Remus is showering, you tell yourself, almost running down your own hallway to your bedroom. You throw the door back open and collect the contents of your floor-drobe, picking up dirty socks and underwear and jeans that you'd discarded at the bottom of the bed. You're still pants-less now, but there's no time. You were sleeping when he called and you look it – hair a mess, chapped lips, eyelashes sticky.

You scrape your hair out of your face and drag a flannel soaked in hot water over your face roughly, wiping oil from your t-zone. You freshen up and change your underwear. It's not ideal but it's the best you can do, and you still haven't managed to get a pair of trousers on when the door is being knocked.

You could shout for him to let himself in as he usually does but you're so excited to see him you rush to the door and smile like an idiot when he's standing there, unremarkable and yet a wonder. He smiles himself, brown eyes shining, thick eyelashes kissing at the corners with the force of it.

You've barely widened the gap to let him in before he's opening his arms. You jump up into them, laughing when he squeezes you tight enough to have your ribs creaking. His hands are familiar as they climb the length of your back, crossing over each shoulder blade. You tighten your arms around his neck and try to breath in his smell as casually as possible, which isn't casual at all.

He laughs and shuts the door behind him.

"Hi, dove," he says into your hair. You delight in the sound of his voice, pressing your mouth into the bare skin of his neck in a half kiss.

"I missed you," you say.

"What's a better word than missed?" he asks, hands falling back down, settling just below your ribs. You release his neck and drift back into his hold, thinking.

"Yearned?" you suggest.

"I yearned for you," he says, smiling smugly.

You crinkle your nose. "Yuck."

He nods in agreement. "Yuck," he repeats, taking your face into his hands. "Did you get prettier?" His thumb rubs over the curve of your cheek. He tilts your head one way then the other, humming to himself. "And I thought it was impossible."

"Stop messing with me," you protest, trying to escape his affection.

"I'm not! I'm not messing with you. You're very, very pretty," he says sincerely. Your chest fills with warmth.

You duck in for a second hug, this time to press the side of your face into his chest, embarrassed.

He pushes your hair flat away from your forehead and cranes his neck down to kiss your temple. "I missed you too," he murmurs.

You look up at him, chin digging into his sternum, and pout. He leans down to kiss you and you take it gratefully, eyes sliding shut in bliss. His kisses are chaste but plentiful, traversing from your lips then the corner of your mouth, the tip of your nose and then the other corner in a circle of affection.

You peek through your lashes and find his eyes open. Your lips curve up into a lazy, pleased smile and his do the same.

"Quit your job," you tell him. He chuckles and you start to shake your head. "I'm serious. It's been, like, five days since I last saw you."

"Two and a half," he corrects gently, hand slipping down to cup your neck. "I can't quit, doll, but I would if I could."

"If anything comes of my writing you'll have to be my house husband," you say, and then hide your face in his chest again, laughing nervously.

"You look like you need one," he says. You flinch up and scowl at him, following his gaze to the dirty dishes in the sink.

"You're so rude!" you say, though he's right.

His expression is soft as silk when he returns his gaze to you. "Are you still tired?" he asks you, frowning. His hands have moved again, squeezing your shoulders lightly.

You shake your head. "I was sleeping when you phoned."

"You can go back to bed if you want to, sweetheart."

You run your finger over a vein, following the stretch of his bare forearm until you get to the crease of his elbow where you wrap your fingers distractedly. You squeeze. The greeny blue of his veins is stark. He lets you have at it, returning his other hand to your face.

You look up at him and worry you might have lovesickness written across every feature.

"Are you hungry?" you ask him.

"Not really."

"I'll make you anything you want," you press.

"Let's go to bed," he says, wiping under your eye with his pinky finger. "You look tired."

He shrugs his shoes off and picks up his discarded rucksack.

"I thought I looked pretty," you grumble as he starts toward your bedroom, his hand on your wrist.

"You can look both. And you do, much too often," he says, nudging you toward your bed. "Do you mind if I shower?"

"Knock yourself out, handsome," you say, fighting with your rumpled sheets to get comfy.

He rolls his eyes at the commotion and takes the duvet into his hand, shaking it out over you so it's flat. He pulls the throw blanket which had slipped onto the ground back under your chin and goes to turn away, hesitates, and kisses your forehead.

"I'll be quick," he promises.

You push your face into your pillow and fight the urge to scream.

He disappears into the bathroom with his rucksack, the sound of the shower begins, and you let yourself giggle happily, hoping the rushing water will hide it from his keen ears.

You cover your eyes with your fingertips when the door finally opens, endless minutes later.

"You can look, I'm dressed," he says, and he is, your favourite shirt of his that you've attempted to steal twice now and never succeeded with a pair of dark jogging bottoms. His hair drips, water saturating the towel he has around his neck. "Which is more than I can say for you," he continues, walking around to the other side of the bed and sitting on the edge.

"I was sleeping," you say coquettishly.

"And if some other gentleman had been at the door?"

"You would've had to fight for my honour," you tell him, rapt as you watch him towel dry his hair. He tilts his head up toward the ceiling, pretty lips slightly parted as he scrubs his scalp roughly.

You sit up and reach for the towel, stealing it from his hands.

"What are you doing?" he asks.

"You're too mean. Stay still," you say, rubbing the towel over his head.

You dry his forehead first and then behind his ears, climbing up onto your knees with a hand braced on his shoulder for balance. His hand reaches up to cover yours and his eyes drift shut as you go. His hair is mostly dry after a minute or two.

You kiss his distracting neck. "There," you say, sitting back down. "Looking good."

"Thank you."

You collapse back into the warm space you’d left behind.

He leans over to kiss you. You smile and move up to meet him, slightly desperate for his mouth. You got to deepen the kiss and he laughs, pulling away regretfully to stand.

"Two seconds, baby," he says.

You can take two years if you're going to call me baby like that again, you think to yourself, falling back on the pillow. You bite the lip he'd just been kissing and try not to smile. God, this is awful. I'm ridiculous, you think. Despite the scathing nature of your thoughts, a roll of bliss moves through you. You shuffle and cover your grinning mouth with the blankets.

He chucks his towel at the laundry hamper as he wanders out of the room. You watch him take a left into the kitchen and listen as the kettle boils. You really are tired and even Remus' company can't keep your eyes open for long. You'd woken up at four in the morning to catch a train to the city for work and the impromptu nap Remus had cut short didn't help as much as you would've liked.

Your eyes were shut by the time Remus came back. You hear the clink of a mug on your night table, the squeaking of your mattress as he climbs up to sit next to you, a twin clink echoing as his own mug comes down on the opposite table.

He runs his hand down your arm. "There's tea if you want it," he tells you quietly.

You nod as best you can manage through the fog, fighting to stay awake and listen to him as he sips his own tea.

Before long he admits a similar defeat, shuffling down beside you. The bed moans again as he turns onto his side and searches for your hands under the duvet. Tightly clasped in his, he brings them to his chest and leans down to kiss your fingers, one for each knuckle.

You squeeze his hands weakly and fall asleep, body curved towards him like half a heart.

Hours later the room is dark, your throat aches with thirst and Remus has somehow wormed his arms around you. Your cheek is resting against his bicep, face pushed into his shoulder, his other arm loosely thrown over your waist.

Your arms are cramped against your chest. You hold one hand up to his sleeping face and rub the line at the corner of his eye as though that might ease the small wrinkle away permanently.

"Pretty boy," you murmur to yourself, impossibly quiet. "My boy."

You drop your hand and turn your face into his bicep, to the stripe of muscle you can see peaking out his shirt sleeve. You're more than fascinated by his arms, lovelorn over every bit of skin on his whole stupid body. The white-purple edge of a new scar catches your eye. You drop your face down and kiss it gently, chasing the length of it up and up until you nudge his sleeve over the curve of his shoulder. This reveals a handful of scars in different colours and sizes. So as not to discriminate you give each of them a soft kiss too.

He'd left the bathroom light on. It throws a piercing spear of manufactured white over your bodies, your abdomen and his heart, a diagonal. It shifts as he shifts, as he wakes, his arm tightening around your waist. The other comes up behind your head sluggishly, wrist bent as his fingertips sift through your hair lightly and rest against your scalp, touch like the brush of a feather.

"Sorry, I wasn't trying to wake you," you whisper to him.

You can't see his face, pushed into his chest. You imagine him scrunching his eyes together and then opening them, bleary in the dimly lit room. Imagine him licking his lips as he pats your head.

"That's okay," he says, words stuck together like hot toffee.

The wire of your bra is sticking in your chest like a needle. You’re reluctant to move but the ache is something awful. You decide to employ your girlfriend privileges.

“Can I ask you for something weird?” you whisper.

Remus moves back to look at you, smiling in tired bemusement.

“How weird?” he asks, squinting at you.

“Will you take my bra off?” And, at his startled face, “It’s digging into my chest.”

His hands come up to your back, one under your shirt via the hemline and the other the neck. He’s very good with the clasp, almost too good, and it makes you both laugh as it pops open.

“Lots of practice,” he says with a hint of apology laced through.

“Don’t mind how much practice you’ve had as long as it’s my bras you’re undoing.”

He chuckles and pulls the straps from around your shoulders before tugging it clean through a sleeve. He studies it for a moment. It’s a purple colour, almost grey. “Is this new?” he asks.

“It’s got matching knickers,” you say, nodding. He puts the bra down between you both and pulls you in close once again, his expression a shade from gleeful.

“Is that so?” he asks through a smile.

“Brazilians,” you supply.

“Means absolutely nothing to me,” he says, breath fanning over your lips as he leans in.

“You’ll like them,” you say, and kiss him. His lips are chapped and you endeavor to help him out.

"I bet so," he says after a sweet kiss. "How's your chest? Hurting?"

"Better."

"Are you sure?" he asks, lips pressed to yours just barely. His voice makes your skin tingle. You giggle and kiss the corner of his mouth. He goes on, "'Cos I'm this close to finishing my masseuse masterclass. 'Ve got good reviews."

"I'm sure you do but I'm feeling just fine," you say, pushing hair behind his ear with a charmed grin.

"If you change your mind.”

His hand spreads flat and wide over your back. Your kisses are sluggish, voices cloyed, but there's a bone deep contentment to be found in his arms. You feel woozy under his light, slow touches, worse when he opens his mouth to invite you in.

You wake up before Remus does. The duvet has slipped down to his waist, exposing his chest covered in welts the shape of your mouth from one shoulder to the next. You see a flicker of his bright eyes peering down at you, his hands in your hair. A wave of fondness rises with the memory.

You kiss his sleeping face and crawl out of bed, almost tripping over his discarded trousers and boxers on the way to the shower.

Once clean you leave the bathroom a foggy hot mess and sit at the edge of your bed in a towel, staring at Remus like a creep. You don't care. You're happy to be a little perv if it's more time spent taking him in; his soft pout, his dark eyebrows and darker eyes, relaxed in sleep. His hand reaches across the sheets, as if he's looking for you even in sleep. Or that's what you tell yourself, indulgent and in love.

You intend on getting dressed but get distracted by your hand, a broken fingernail. You peer at it curiously. "How…?" you murmur to yourself, bringing your nail to your mouth.

Remus shifts. He groans. You cross your legs and raise your eyebrows at his performance – if he were a movie, it'd be R-rated. He stretches out and you watch in appreciation, your lovebites a patterning of warped purple kisses as he moves onto his side.

"Are you awake?" you ask softly.

"No."

"Does it help if I'm not dressed?"

He pauses his restless movement to glance over his shoulder at you.

"Oh."

"Uh-huh."

He forces himself to sit, looking a little stiff. You frown in sympathy and politely ignore the pooling of sheets in his lap and his morning friend, abruptly frustrated by the injustice of his condition.

"I wasn't too cruel to you, was I?" you ask worriedly.

He chuckles, voice still hoarse with tiredness, "You were very, very nice." He catches your chin in his fingers and pulls you forward to press a quick chaste kiss to your lips. "Morning, dove."

You absentmindedly take his hand from your face, fingers wrapping around his wrist and pulling towards your body.

"Aching?"

He winces. "Yeah. Few days." Until the full moon.

You try not to go overboard with worrying, try not to condescend or offend while still showing you care. You hide a mountain of fears every month, scared something awful will happen to him, or worse that he'll do it to himself.

"Can I make you breakfast?" you ask him.

His eyes say more than he does as he gives you his you don't have to look after me smile. It's slowly changed the longer you've known him into a thank you for taking care of me chagrin.

"I'll shower first, I think."

Your eyes flit to his lap and he sees it. You're both embarrassed, and then you're both giggling.

"I think you better," you agree.

He turns his hand in your hold to twine your fingers together, stalling. You don't care. He can stall all day if he wants to.

"Your nail," he says, lips parting, mouth an 'o'. "Oh no. What happened?"

"I think it ripped washing my hair."

"Ah, that's why you should let me do it for you."

You grin. "Next time."

"You gonna cut them all down now?"

"Probably. I'sad, 'cos I don't have any jelly pink left to fix them."

The genuine heartbreak on his face is warming and hilarious. "What?"

"All ran out," you say, nodding.

"And you can't get more?"

You shake your head at him, bemused. He probably doesn't actually care about all this, he's just a really nice boyfriend. "Don't worry about it. Go shower, I'll get dressed. We'll make breakfast."

He looks reluctant to stand. As if you haven't seen it all before. You roll your eyes though you're secretly pleased that he's the shy one for once and pull the towel from around your body. His eyes eat you up and his smile is blinding as he accepts your towel.

He kisses your forehead, squeezes your damp shoulder and totters off with your towel held around his waist.

Idiot, you think happily. Endearing, though, to have this shyness still, to be in this 'honeymoon phase' with no end in sight. You selfishly, maybe unrealistically, hope it never ends. I'm willing to be this way forever, you think as you moisturise, as you dress, and I think he is too. Maybe we can be this lovesick forever. Please let us be this lovesick forever.

You're cracking eggs over a pan of bubbling oil when he joins you, similarly dampened as you were and in fresh clothes kept at the bottom of your wardrobe. He presses a minty kiss to your cheek and you sigh to yourself, because it is very, very nice to be kissed, often and sweetly and for no reason at all.

"Let me do that," he says, working the spatula from your tight grip. He bumps his hip with yours.

You give in grudgingly. "I can fry an egg."

"Why should you?"

You dig your fingers into his traps and massage meanly until his hackles are raised and he's cringing away from you.

"Get off of me, you awful girl," he says indignantly, "Before I burn myself. You want that on your conscience?"

You throw your head back and groan dramatically at his guilt-tripping, running your hands over his back instead. You weave them across his soft abdomen and lean your head into his back, face pressed into the damp neckline of his shirt.

"Yes," you say petulantly.

"Sure you do. Sicko."

He can't be too mad with you because his hand comes up, arm covering your arm. He watches the eggs and you feel his breathing, and the kitchen is full of sunshine. Pink, green, blue and orange light, the fairy crystal in the window showers you. A rainbow laps at his shoulder as he moves and you watch it, transfixed at this and the feeling of his body, alive, under your touch.

"What are we gonna do all weekend?" you ask.

He rubs your arm as he deliberates. "Um… nothing? We could go shopping later, find you some new nail polish."

"Feel how much your joints hurt right now and times it by ten, and that's how much they'll hurt later."

"I know that. Still, just 'cos it hurts doesn't mean I want to miss out on time with you."

"We can spend time here."

He snorts. "You just asked what we were gonna do."

"I meant, like, monopoly. Actually, not monopoly. Yahtzee. Or hit and blow."

Scrapes the spatula against the frying pan, a metallic shushing vibrating up his arm. "You don't like hit and blow."

"You're good at it, though."

He brings your hand to his mouth and kisses your fingers. You hug him tighter, always so dizzied by his attention.

"We could get really drunk and play backgammon," he suggests.

"I can't win sober!"

"'Xactly."

He moves to grab the plates and you detach from him, unwilling. He curses. "Fuck, did you want toast?"

You nod to yourself and set about making some for the both of you. Remus crams your plates and two mugs of tea on your already busy dining table. You can feel his gaze on your shoulders as the toast pops but by the time you've finished buttering all four slices he's dead set on the newspaper from a few days ago.

"Anything interesting?" you ask, setting toast on his plate.

"So many things. E.Coli in romaine lettuce in Sainsbury's."

You wrinkle your nose and take a big bite of toast. "Ew."

"Good thing you don't eat vegetables," he says slyly, bringing a glass of water to his lips.

"Bitch."

Remus chokes, water dripping down his chin and onto the newspaper. He wipes his face and abandons the paper, socked foot brushing yours under the table. He chuckles to himself with his eyebrows raised like he can’t understand how he got here, and you feel the same way.

You eat breakfast slowly and with little fanfare — there’s nowhere to be and no rush to be in. Only time spent together. Remus eats everything and some of yours, you wash the dishes and set them out over the rack to dry. Remus wipes down the countertops and you push open the window as he turns on the radio in your small living room.

You can smell breakfast and cleaning spray and the hyacinth from the garden, your living room smells a little dusky, of you and him and a bergamot candle in the corner. You fall into a dance with Remus without speaking and soon your small flat is very clean.

He slumps down onto the sofa when you’re done. You kiss his lightly perspiring forehead, standing behind him, and he turns to you curiously.

“Thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, dovey. Half the mess was mine.” Not true, but he’s kind for saying it.

You wrap your arms around his front and nose against the side of his face lightly. He turns back to face the TV though it’s off.

He smells like your shampoo. “Are you tired?” you ask him.

“Yes,” he says honestly.

“Wanna sleep again?”

He shakes his head. “I won’t sleep tonight.”

You want to make a joke. You never really spend much time sleeping in my bed, Lupin, but it’s untrue. You do a lot of plain sleeping together, especially before a full moon; he’s not the energy or libido for anything else. You’re more than okay with this, content to cuddle with him for hours on end. Sometimes the feeling of his fingers between yours is enough to make you nauseous with worship. Reverence.

You try not to use his shoulders as you push up and turn on the television, nabbing the remote from besides the aerial. You dump it into Remus’ lap as you sit beside him, not touching but almost. He leans back into the cushions and scrolls through the meagre available channels.

His skin isn’t quite on your skin. Bridging the gap is always the same. You reach out with your hand slowly, knowing you’re allowed but not too sure as you drop your hand into his thigh, you rub your fingers into the softer part of his inner thigh and squeeze lightly, wanting to feel the skin under his pajamas. Remus’ nose bumps into your head as he slowly wraps his arm around your shoulders, dragging you into his side. A firm, solid gesture. He groans and you lift up off of your butt to kiss the scar running through his eyebrow. When you sit back down he’s looking at you impassively.

“What?” you ask.

He shakes his head, lips pressed together to hide an emerging smile.

You continue to rub his thigh and settle into his side, a familiar space carved out for you. You sneak a look up into his face, take in his neck and the edge of a purple love bite you'd given him the night before hiding under his shirt. The memory of his skin under your lips, the sound that he'd made as you sucked in a cruel bruise has you smiling like a fool.

It's too early to climb all over him. You badly want to but you don't want to be a clingy mess of a girlfriend, know he's tired and you're being a bit much. Something about him just makes you crazy. You fancy him to the point of aching.

"You are thinking so loudly," Remus mutters, exasperated. "What? Do you want a kiss?"

"No," you deny guiltily.

"Worse than a kiss?"

"No! No, I was thinking about you."

"Good things?"

"Awful things."

His sigh is heart hurting tired as he slouches down and pulls you into his chest. "Like what?"

You bring your hand up his thigh and squeeze the top, feeling the muscles underneath fat to avoid the question. He hisses. "Fuck, woman." You squeeze again mercilessly. He flinches under you but can't escape, his hiss turning into a nervous laugh. "Stop, stop. Baby," he says, at first cross and then pleading. His hand clamps down on your wrist. "Baby."

"Baby! You only call me baby when you're fucking me," you tease.

"Do I?" he asks, squirming.

"Uh-huh. When you're vulnerable," you say, sticky sweet, pulling the syllables. "Do you feel vulnerable right now?"

He exerts more strength than he usually does with you as he pries your bullying hand from his leg. "Stop," he says, and then, very slowly, "baby."

You hope he can't tell how much you like his show of strength as he tucks your hand and his under his arm. You also hope he doesn't know how insane you feel about him when he wears these short sleeve t-shirts and they're tight on his biceps like this, fingers flexing underneath to brush your knuckles against solid mass, but he likely does. Remus seems to know everything you're thinking, sometimes before you think it.

"You're no fun."

"I'm plenty fun," he says, rolling his eyes.

"Sure."

Quicker than you realise Remus has pushed his arm tight over your hand, sandwiching it in place against his ribs to attack your thigh. You gasp and then squeal, peel after peel of roaring, scared laughter as he tickles your legs.

"Don't!"

"I thought it was fun?" he asks, voice high and taunting. "You're fun, aren't you sweetness? This is enjoyable!"

You feel like you might pee yourself as you twist sideways and throw yourself backwards. Your hands free from his grips and legs kicking into his leg you crawl away from his searching hands and feel your heart start to race when he climbs on top of you. His fingers find your soft sides, your armpits, the skin behind your neck.

You start bargaining. "I'm sorry! Stop, oh my god Remus get off! I'm sorry please oh my god." You're gasping for air and squealing like a piglet, too busy pleading to worry about how unflattering this angle is. "Remus!" His name strung out, emphasis on the - us . "I'm gonna wet myself!"

Remus stops abruptly and hovers above you. You pant. "I could be into that," he says lightly.

You push him off of you and he actually falls onto the ground, his foot tangled in the throw blanket beneath you.

You startle upwards. "Remus!"

He laughs silently on the floor. "Fucking winded me."

"You were being gross."

"Only for you," he says, then groans.

"Sorry, Remus."

"You will be." You frown at the idea he might tickle you again, but he continues. "Thinking you can knock me around just 'cos I'm your boyfriend. I'm telling."

"Who? James?" you ask, head peeking over the sofa to stare at him with a knowing smirk.

"Lyall."

You gasp. "You're telling on me to your father ?"

"He thinks the world of you. I'll be glad to set the record straight."

"You've told him about me?"

Remus sits up, moaning dramatically. You pull him back up onto the sofa beside you, the two of you lying down and squished together to fit.

"Of course I have. You're my girlfriend."

You incline your heads together. "You're sure you can't leave this out?"

"I could be persuaded."

"Yeah?" you ask. You can't help but glance down at his lips, wondering where they are, knowing you want to move forward to meet them.

"Uh-huh." He smiles and kisses you, his lips practiced, a small peck that makes you unbearably happy. "What will you give me?" he asks, his eyes closed.

"Mm." You rub the tip of your nose against his as you think it over. "What do you want?"

"Everything."

His deadpan seriousness cracks you open at first, laughing breathlessly as you bring your hand to his face. You spread your fingers over his cheek and stroke the edge of his biggest facial scar with your finger, the one that starts below his nose and cuts through his eyebrow.

"You can have it. Whatever you want," you agree quickly, pulling him towards you with a giddy jovialness. "Anything."

He kisses you again, warm hand covering yours, shoulder digging into your shoulder as he fights for closeness. "Anything? Like your kidney?"

"'Specially my kidney. They go for loads on the black market."

"And how would you know that?" he asks, his grin fond.

"I write. I know things."

"A likely story. Sounds to me like you're a little freak and you're plotting to sell all my organs, and this whole thing has been a ploy. An organ based ploy."

"Remus," you whisper. "I once let you fuck me in the Leaky Cauldron, remember? The money I would make off of your organs wouldn't make up for that."

"Was it truly so awful?" he asks, amused.

"The fuck? No. No, I…" you let your head fall into his shoulder, "that was enough material for a month of fantasies. Months, if you hadn't done worse to me afterwards. But we really couldn't have made it to your place?"

He presses your joined hands to his chest and laughs. "I don't expect you to understand. You looked – you look fucking amazing. Like, all the time. And you were there to see me, all dressed up knowing we were only going to the leaky. I couldn't handle it."

"Remus," you chide, embarrassed.

He nudges you. "No, because you really don't get it. How pretty you are. How fucking funny you are. How much I love being with you. It couldn't have waited." He clears his throat. "Well, maybe. But if you understood how killer you are you wouldn't blame me."

"Remus, shut up. I wanted you badly. I waited for you for half an hour. You know that? In the rain ."

He's quiet as he says, "No, I didn't know that."

"You shouldn't, 'cos I lied to you… I did my hair three times." You laugh at the memory, how nervous you'd been and how nervous he still makes you, but now… "Nobody's ever made me feel like that before."

"Like what?"

"Like I'm- I'm pretty. You make me feel like I'm beautiful." Your confession feels both dramatic and completely normal, you suspect because it's Remus that you're confessing too.

He squeezes your fingers. "You are beautiful."

You feel the peril of an oncoming pep talk or comfort you don't quite need. His reassurement while lovely is unnecessary for now, you just wanted him to know the truth.

"You're much more attractive," you tell him, sitting up to cups his face in your hands. "S'why I changed my mind about selling your organs."

"Thank god for that," he says. You stroke his face and give his cheeks a gentle pinch.

"I-" you freeze up. So quickly, beyond reason, you'd almost said I love you . "I need to pee."

He blinks and then grins. "Thanks for telling me."

You blush and stammer and climb over his legs to go to the bathroom, standing in front of the mirror until you can smile like a normal person again, like you aren't the most in love any one girl has ever been.

"Dove! Hurry up! I think I found something for us to watch!"

You dry your hands on the hand towel and rush back into the living room to see what Remus has found.

He turns to you just as you recognise what's playing, the words already on his lips, "Holy cabooses!"

"'Hello, Dolly!'" you gasp, rushing to sit down so quickly you end up half in his lap. "I have the tape, you know."

"Shush, this is the best part," he says. It most definitely isn't the best part, and you're about to take loud offense, only his arms wrap around your abdomen and pull you into his front and you can't be bothered after that, listening more keenly to him than the movie, the way he knows every word, saying them softly but with inflection under his breath. He hums along to the songs and sways you back and forth in time with the music. You lay your head back on his chest. I love him , you think, bobbing gently one way and then the other.

"Yes, I can hear that Choo Choo callin' me on. On board that Happiness Express," Dolly sings. Remus signs it better, warm and low, the sound sending goosebumps down your arms.

"I'm gonna learn to dance and drink and smoke a cigarette," you further, even quieter than he had been.

"We should take dance classes," Remus says.

"You don't need help with the other two."

"Mean. You don't want to learn to dance with me?"

"Sure I do. What kind of dance?"

It's a throwaway conversation. When you see someone as much as you see Remus, you can't always be declaring love and affection. Sometimes you have to plan things you'll never do.

"Waltzing? Any dancing. Dancing we can do together," he says, knuckles rubbing into your soft tummy. "If I asked you to dance with me right now, could you?"

You blink when you realise Remus is being serious.

"No, I couldn't. Not properly."

"Me neither," he says, legs shifting underneath you, spreading wide so yours can fit between them.

"Am I hurting you?" you ask worriedly, moving to stand up.

He reigns you in. "No, you stay right there." You're reluctant. He pulls you into his chest, your hair brushing his collar. "I'd love to learn some kind of waltz with you, dove," he says, almost offhandedly.

You go warm all over. "Anything you want."

Couples dance classes are difficult, especially the cheap ones. What must be 30 couples in one room, awaiting instruction, and yet you doubt any one partner is as nervous as you right now.

Remus stands beside you in matching sweatpants, both of you dressed for the activity but also the insecurity – neither had considered the actual vulnerability of being witnessed learning to waltz.

"Maybe we should've tried to learn at home," you whisper.

Remus smiles, hooking his pinky finger through yours. "I'd agree normally. You know I hate, uh, any attention. But I really think this will be fun."

He looks from the mirrored wall in front of you to your face. "And if it isn't, we leave. Obnoxiously, in the middle of the lesson."

"We should get ice cream after," you decide, anything to not talk about your current situation.

"Salted caramel," he whispers as the instructor claps her hands together and the lesson begins.

The leads learn first. You're happy for Remus to lead and he says nothing to the contrary. Soon you're watching him and the other leads learn the steps.

You help him through small hand gestures, reminding him to keep his feet hip distance apart, mouthing to him that he needs to relax when he seizes up. He takes a step forward that's supposed to be soft but comes on heavy; it's only a few days after the full moon, he's still weak and aching, though he'd insisted on coming today.

He brings his second foot forward and then pushes it inward. The awkwardness of the room begins to fade, everybody too concentrated on getting it right. The next instruction sees him stepping back with his right foot, then the left, parallel. He closes the gap between them, and there - he's waltzed.

They go through it two more times. Remus is nervous but extremely perceptive and quick to learn. You're impressed by how well he's mastered the dance in such little time.

"And now, the companion!"

You get confused at first, having internalised the leads instructions. Remus helps you much the same. "I got you," he whispers at the distressed look on your face. Somehow, his voice is easier to follow. "Back," he gestures at his body, relaxed, "feet apart. Bring them together," he acts it out for you. "Forward, feet apart."

Together. And now you've waltzed too.

"Alright! Now, let's get dancing! Lead, your hand behind the companion's shoulder like this. Companion, your hand on top of the lead’s shoulder. Don't worry about getting this too perfect, we only wanna get you guys moving."

You do as instructed. You've touched Remus what must be close to a thousand times by now and still this feels nerve-racking, your heart going a thousand miles a minute as the gap between you closes and your tummies brush. Remus smiles at you, pulling your right hand into his left and pushing it away from you, clasped tight.

"This part is always a little tricky! You mess up and it messes up your partner, but don't. Worry . The more you move the more you practice, and the more you practice the better you'll get! Ready?"

The teacher presses play on her small music player. You waltz. Remus leads well, murmuring the instructions to you under his breath when you falter.

You stumble and he pulls you along without missing a beat. You can feel a bead of sweat where it collects on your brow, heart ticking. Remus is very good. You're less so.

"You got it," he says, falling back as you follow. "That's my girl. Relax, would you?"

"I think I might be awful at this," you say, distracted.

Feet together. "It's just fast, that's all. She's going very quickly, probably because the lessons are so short. And it doesn't matter," he says, squeezing your shoulder, "it's just for fun, right? I don't envy the soon to be wed in here. Look," he brings you in closer than he should, "see the couple behind us?"

The couple behind you do look acutely miserable.

"You think they're gonna get married?" you ask.

Remus shrugs and moves backwards. You follow. His feet come together, then yours. "I don't know, but we did it perfectly."

You look down at your feet and then up at him, an awful beaming smile on your face. "Oh my god! We did it."

"Yes we did," he agrees, amused by your delight.

"Now when you ask me to dance, I'll know how."

You're smiling still when the instructor announces advanced moves. It quickly disappears.

Remus chuckles. "This sounds interesting."

Advanced moves are not interesting, you discover. You can dance the waltz with about sixty percent accuracy, but trying to do that while spinning in a circle? Impossible. You thank God that Remus had agreed to be the lead because you can't remember you're turning until he physically pulls you in the right direction.

You start to feel upset at how useless you are, only you stand very cruelly straight onto Remus' foot. You leap to apologise but he bursts into laughter, giggling as he turns you into the circle, completely disrupting his 1, 2, 3 count. You end up standing on his foot again, again, and each time he laughs like a fool.

The room is hardly quiet and yet you know that people are looking at you as you bumble backwards, half out of the circle, and Remus stands on your foot.

It's downhill from there. The underarm turn a disaster, Remus spins you out and accidentally drops your hand. You bump into a young guy also being spun out.

"You're supposed to shorten your steps!" you hiss as you throw yourself into Remus' chest.

Your boyfriend chuckles and kisses your cheek before maneuvering you into position. You're two counts behind everyone else and he doesn't seem to notice.

"Sorry, dove. You look pretty, when you spin. 'Cept for that awful pout," he teases, nodding his head towards your cross lips.

"Remus," you moan, dropping your head into his chest. He stops trying the advanced moves, simply walking you back and forth. You've given up on footwork and try your best to follow. It works, and soon you're moving in perfect tandem.

"Maybe we didn't need any lessons after all," he says into your hair.

You agree with him twenty five minutes later, sweaty and rumpled and extremely happy walking into the cool haven of a dessert parlour on the way home. He orders your ice creams as you shift from one tired foot to another, the sound of the waltz thumping in your head. The second waltz loud in your ears, the clumsy footfall of sixty people.

Remus starts to hum Dmitri Shostakovich.

"Sounds almost sinister," you comment.

"Offensive," he mutters.

He moves onto the happier part. You can't remember it very well but you join in, and you let him take your hand and spin you just once during the invented crescendo.

"A perfect spin!" he says. You eat up his praise like an idiot and he drops his voice to mime the baritone sounds.

Your ice cream cones are pushed into the stand in front of you and you fight for the right to pay.

"You paid for dance lessons," you say firmly, handing the employee your cash.

"It was my idea for us to learn.”

"And it was my idea to get ice cream. Thank you so much," you say, accepting your cones.

You pass Remus his salted caramel ice cream and are rewarded with his grin.

"Thank you sweetheart," he says softly, holding open the door for you.

"You're welcome. I-" You cough and blink rapidly. I love you, you'd almost said. Why do you keep doing this? "Uh, I'm tired. You must be hurting," you save yourself hastily.

Remus licks a drip off of his index finger. He looks tired, bone tired, today much too soon for him to really be out and about again but you don't feel comfortable saying this to him. It's his life, his body. You don't want to overstep despite how badly you want him to take better care of himself.

"Really hurting," he says. You'd expected him to brush it off, and his honesty makes you flinch. "Oh, don't, dove. It's okay."

You wince. "Remus-"

"I'm fine! I'm not dying. I do need a tonic though. Maybe two."

Your lips part, ice cream forgotten. You reach for his hand and rub the length of his arm. When he lets you dote you move in, his shoulder to your chest. "My poor boy. Shall we call a taxi?"

"Please," he says, smiling weakly.

"Here, let's sit," you look around wildly and spot a bench across the road. You drag him across and sit on the cold curved bench, just outside a multistory car park.

Remus looks tired. You tuck your hand behind his back and watch his face. He looks entertained. "I'm okay," he says.

You believe him and you also think he must feel very rundown to be honest with you, to not want to keep it all to himself.

Your ice cream has dripped everywhere. You don't think you can eat it, worried, so you reach over and drop it into the bin behind the bench, wiping yourself clean with a napkin. Remus doesn't give up.

"You stay here. I'll go back to the parlour and use their phone," you say. He nods.

When you come back his ice cream is gone and his eyes are closed.

"Sorry," he says when you sit, dropping his head onto your shoulder.

"It's okay. Don't be sorry," you say, patting his back.

"I didn't realise," he continues.

"Baby," you murmur.

He rubs his cheek against your shirt with his eyes still closed and you wait for the taxi, stroking his hair behind his ear.

"Thank you for the dance lesson," you say.

"You're welcome."

"When you're up to it, we should go again. Learn flamenco or something."

"You really want to?" he asks. His voice is low and quiet.

"Why not? The waltz was fun. I always have a good time with you, you know that."

"I'd love to see you in a flamenco dress."

"Yeah?" you ask, laughing loud.

"Yeah."

You kiss the tip of his ear and say quietly, "Red's not my colour."

"Are you kidding? Every colour is your colour."

"You're just saying that 'cos you like my red babydoll."

"Yes, I do! Of course I do, and you never wear it. I love it. I love all your fancy underwear…" He yawns. "And all your ratty stuff, too."

"Shush," you tell him, flushing.

"Especially the daisy ones with a rip near the leg."

"I'm leaving you here."

Despite claims otherwise you shepherd him into the taxi, out of the taxi, up the flat steps and into your bed. He falls asleep promptly. You watch him for a while, wondering if this is all real. It can't be real, you decide, laying down beside him. No way someone as lovely as him wants this life with you. Keeps choosing you, every day. No way.

Remus must feel you, reaching for you in sleep, his arm wrapping around your waist and his hand ghosting the small of your back as he turns on his side. He pushes his palm under your shirt as he pulls you in, skin on skin, fingers loving even as he dozes.

You kiss his chin.

I love you, you think.

The thought feels forbidden, like an electric shock. Remus must feel that too because he makes a small sound and his hand rubs your back soothingly. You don't mean to but you wrap your arms around his ribs and fall asleep, comforted.

The dance lesson had felt like a good idea, though Remus knew that drawing from a well of energy that wasn't emptying was never a good idea – he always paid for it the next day. Or, as he found himself in the dark, the following night.

He could've swore he'd had you beside him but now you're nowhere to be seen, the sheets cool. He sits up with a groan. Everything hurts again, like the day after a moon without the open wounds.

You've taken off his shoes. He wiggles his numb toes and feels a disgusting overabundance of fondness for you that needs to be shown immediately, only he can't really stand up. His legs are weak. He trips and sits down again heavily on the bed, scrubbing his face with both hands.

"Remus," you whisper questioningly, walking toward the bedroom on light feet. You peel your own door open with infinite care, head peeking through. "Are you awake?"

"Yeah," he whispers back.

You open the door and smile, changed out of your dance clothes. You're in a cuffed pair of white pajama bottoms with dark blue flowers and a black and white baseball tee. You smell like cinnamon as you sit down beside him, cupping his face in one hand in greeting. You kick your heels on the floor, feet bouncing. He looks at your mismatched socks and feels another wave of fondness.

"What are you making?" he asks, throat aching.

"Apple pie. You like apple pie, right?"

"Love it," he says, elbow brushing yours.

"You want a bath?" you ask.

"Yeah," he scratches the back of his neck. "Do I have any clean clothes here?"

You disappear into the bathroom as he asks, the sound of the shower and then the bath. Bottle caps clip. "I washed some," you say, slightly louder to be heard over the din of the bath filling. You peek out of the bathroom. "Come in. I got bubble bath for you."

The room smells of radox muscle soak and almond oil. Remus shuffles into the bathroom and leans against the sink as you titter about dropping things into the bath, getting him a clean towel from the linen cupboard and a new razor from the medicine cupboard. You put everything on the side of the bath and clap your hands together. "That's everything, right?"

"Thank you, dove."

You smile with all your teeth and he loves how you look, though you remember yourself quickly and press your lips together, nodding. "Okie, if you need anything else you can just call me, I'm only keeping an eye on the oven."

"Actually," he says before you can leave, pulling his shirt from over his back. His hair flops out around him. "You wanna keep me company?" he asks. Insecure and not. You've had baths together before. You've done worse in the bath with him.

You smile. "Yeah, okay," you say, dropping the toilet seat to sit down.

He shouldn't complain. There've been many situations where he's stayed dressed and you've been completely nude. If anything, undressed and bared in the bath, he should be saying thank you — he realises now how hard it is to be the only one naked.

You bend over so your chest is almost touching your knees, picking at your nails. They've been breaking more and more lately and he knows it's because you don't have the time to take care of them that you had before. He feels a little guilty. How quick you are to take care of him and neglect yourself.

He scrubs down quickly and you talk, an easy conversation in your tired voice, late in the evening now, that full day crackle chasing your words.

"I got bleach on the jumper you gave me," you confess, reaching forward to wipe shaving foam from behind his ear. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise how strong that cleaning spray is."

"That's okay," he says in between strokes of the razor as he cleans up his neck, "I gave it to you. S'your jumper to do what you like with."

"I don't like getting bleach on it," you grumble, cupping his damp shoulder blade. He's no clue why you're doing it but he's the last person who would ever tell you to stop.

"You want another one?" he asks. "I don't mind."

"So I can ruin it? Thanks, handsome, but I couldn't."

You rub your hand into his back, your thumb pushing into a tight knot of muscle. He loves to be called handsome by you, blushing wildly at the compliment.

"Oh," you say under your breath, "this is a mean one. How's that?" you ask, massaging the knot with precise movements.

His head tilts back unconsciously, a sharp breath leaving him as you work the pain from his back. Far from words, he gives you a small moan. The best he can do, you seem emboldened by his sound and bring your other hand to help.

His hair drips lukewarm water down his back.

"Remus, I have to go check the pie," you say reluctantly, though you keep massaging.

"Uh-huh."

You keep going for long minutes before making a sound of self admonishment and standing up.

You kiss his wet back. "Sorry," you say.

He runs his hand down your arm as you walk past.

By the time he's washed his hair and climbed out of the cooling tub you've removed the pie from the oven and burned yourself. You hold your steam-bitten fingertips to your mouth with a pained pinch to your brow, though you quickly hide it when you see him in the doorway in boxers with a towel around his neck.

"Hey, handsome. You clean up well," you say.

"You hurt yourself?"

"Mm. On the kettle, not the pie. But I made tea, so…" you say.

You hold out your hand. He inspects your raw fingers. "Ouch," he mutters sympathetically, wrapping his fingers around your palm and holding your injured hand to his chest. "Poor girl." He kisses your cheek.

You look, embarrassed, down at his tummy. He tries not to suck in.

"Stupid girl."

"Not stupid," he corrects. "An accident."

You huff and pull your hand from his, carefully pulling the towel from around his neck. You bring it to the back of his head and wipe at his wet hair, eyes suddenly on his face. Your gaze is intense.

"What?" he asks.

You just smile.

He tries again. "Why're you looking at me like that?"

"You're really," you clear your throat, "good-looking. Really really. I love your face."

"Dove."

"I'm serious. I don't call you handsome for nothing, though you're looking especially lovely today."

He catches the hem of your soft shirt in his fingers and toys with it. "Thank you."

You beam. "You're welcome. I don't tell you as much as you tell me, and it's not fair, because I think you're the most handsome guy on this whole stupid planet," you say, letting the towel fall to his shoulder again, hands pulling at the ends.

"That's enough," he says fondly.

"I'm serious. You have these gorgeous eyes, I love brown eyes but yours are seriously something, you have a ring of amber around your pupil that glows . And your nose," you bring your index finger, the not burned one, under his eyes, then over the ridge of his nose, "is my favourite. I love this," you trace over the curve, "and this," the tip. "And your lips," you lean up on your toes, hands braced but very gentle around his throat. Your eyes flit between his eyes, looking steadily into yours, and his mouth. "You have a pretty mouth," you say, and lean in for a kiss.

He hates you at that moment. He thinks you're beautiful, and he can't believe that you'd ever adore him so much, and your mouth is supple and arduous against his, and there's nothing he can do beyond this. He wants desperately to make love to you like they do in all the silly romance books, show you exactly how he feels about you, exactly how handsome he finds you.

He almost says I love you.

The relationship he has with you has often (though obviously not solely) been defined sexually. You work well that way, an understanding between you both before you were even a couple that this rope, this connection, that stretches between you is reciprocated. He thinks it must be obvious that he loves you, though he doesn't want to say anything too soon and weaken a meaning or scare you off or, selfishly, doesn't want to be the only one to say it. He doesn't want to tell you and not have you say it back, and his insecurity won't allow him to believe you would yet.

Sex between you is a resonance of reciprocation. So he hates you – well, maybe not hatred, but a half second spark of dislike – for being so lovely and evoking this feeling from him when the best way he feels he can show his love is cut off from him.

He vows to mess you up badly when his libido returns.

For now, Remus lets you kiss him with your perfect, pouting mouth, his tasting of mint from his brushing moments ago and yours of apple pie filling he knows you must've been eating as you made it. His eyes close. He can almost see the look on your face anyways, the scrunching of your eyes and the half grin you wear as you kiss him searchingly.

You drop back down on your feet and he follows, kissing you until you push his chest away, not unkindly.

"Are you hungry?" you ask.

He isn't really. "Yeah, I could have something."

"Good, 'cos I'm starved. Did you see your clothes?"

"No?"

"They're on the bottom of the bed. Those are clean boxers, right?"

He laughs and pinches you for being cheeky. "Of course they are, who do you think I am?" he asks as he turns from you to get dressed.

"Just checking!" you call. He can hear you mumbling to yourself and the sounds of the pie tin being clicked open, though he doesn't quite catch what you're saying. Something cruel, he imagines.

You're drinking his tea when he makes it back.

"You took too long," you say cheekily. He'd tackle you if he had the energy. He makes a mental note to do it another day.

The apple pie you've made smells good, though the top is very browned. He knows it's his fault, so he says, "It's perfect."

"Don't say 'til you try it."

"If what you tasted like earlier is any indication, I'm gonna enjoy it just fine."

You're visibly mortified. He pulls you into the cage of his arms and laughs at you loudly when you're reluctant, jabbing at his chest with a grumbling giggle. "Shut up," you say, the up dragged into a five second word. "Did not."

"You did! Why would I lie about that? Here, let me try you again, we'll see if you still taste like it."

Scandalised and seduced at once, Remus raises his hand to your cheek and feels the heat of blood under your skin. You huff a breath out the corner of your mouth and then drop your head back like you've given in, your chin jutting up. "I'll taste like tea now."

"Guess I'll have to go looking."

Remus dips down slowly, hand moving from the breadth of your cheek to the skin before your ear, fingers besides his index ducking under. He traces the tip of his index over the shell of your ear.

"Remus," you say quietly.

"What, baby?"

You inhale too quick. He wouldn't hear it if it weren't for how quiet the kitchen is.

"What?" he asks, even softer. It worries him sometimes how easy you are to upset. It's unnerving, how squishy your emotions are.

"I…" You frown, going from an emotion he doesn't quite understand to theatrically happy. You smile big and laugh a laugh he knows isn't quite real before pressing a kiss to his lips. He's startled but the kiss doesn't feel stilted and he's like an addict when it comes to your lips, his own parting underneath you. He steals the lead, mouth closing down onto yours, gentle then less so against your top lip. The curve of your cupid's bow, the edge of your lips.

You try clumsily to breath through your mouth and he feels it along with the small vibrations of your happy sounds, your hands tentative at his hips. You pull away to take a little gasp of air before moving back in fast enough that your teeth click together.

"Sorry," you say.

"S'alright," he says, arm heavy on your shoulder. He turns his head to the side to avoid anymore clicking. "Take it slow, sweetheart. Nowhere else to be," he reminds you mildly.

You give him a huge skewed kiss. Fast to his slow, he works his way in eventually, feeling like a blessed vessel, a body of white star heat when you're this close.

"You do," he says, parting from you to breathe in deeply, his hand behind your shoulder blade gripping your soft shirt tightly.

"What?" you ask, sounding as giddy as he feels.

"You still taste like your pie. Apple and cinnamon and sweetness."

You wrap your arms around his neck and plant a chaste peck against his throat. He lets the side of his face fall into the top of your head, your hug a warmth he wouldn't trade for anything.

"I don't know if you're being gross or romantic."

"Gross," he confirms. "Really gross."

"Yeah. Wanna do it again?"

He does.

Remus aches much less but in new ways as he pushes open the employee door and finds you standing in your sundress with a tote bag over your bare shoulder.

The cigarette in his hands goes quickly behind.

"I saw it!" you announce merrily, waving from across the street. "It's your lunch break, right?"

Remus sits with you on a low wall and watches you kick your feet, an identical tupperware open in both your laps. A week since your apple pie, the plastic houses a freshly made BLT cut into four pieces like he's a kid and a generous slice of millionaire shortbread.

"You made this?" he asks.

"The sandwich? Yes," you say, covering your mouth with your hand as you swallow a bite of lettuce so crisp he can hear it snap. "The shortbread, no."

"It's a good fucking sandwhich," he says, though he hates soggy tomatoes.

You beam and bite it back, tucking your dress between your legs to stop the wind from blowing it up. His loss. He decides to own his perverted thoughts rather than just think them guiltily.

"It's a nice fucking dress, too," he says. "Really nice."

You pull the dress up your thigh and stop just before your underwear. He reaches over and pulls it straight back down.

"Stop. Eat your sandwich," he says. Then, at your downtrodden face, "Look, I have hours left of work. Hours. Don't do this to me."

You perk up and take a self-satisfied bite of your sandwich. "Sorry," you say through more lettuce. He's fond enough to burst, shuffling up the wall to press his starchy work trousers to your linen covered thigh. The dress is a pale green. He's reminded of your other dress, the cowl neck slip with a small slit up the thigh.

"You look really pretty," he says.

"Thank you," you murmur, wrapping your arm under his. He almost drops his sandwich in the struggle.

Remus tries to kiss your cheek and you move away. "What? Am I not allowed?" he teases.

"You'll ruin my makeup."

"Oh no," he says, planting a kiss on you anyways. "That's so weird."

"What? What happened?" you ask, looking out the corner of your eye like you might be able to see your cheek.

"Still perfect even after a kiss. Who would've guessed."

"That's vile. You're being so sappy," you say cheerily, in juxtaposition with your harsh words as you let your head flop into his shoulder. You skip over the sandwich and take your dessert, smaller than his, to his chagrin, and nibble carefully.

He chuckles at your attempt to preserve your lip gloss.

"What?" you ask, turning to him in genuine confusion.

He takes a swig of your flask, acting as casually as possible, before he swoops down to kiss you. You reciprocate, giving him a handful of sweet kisses where your sticky lips pepper over his.

"There," he says, pulling away, "your lipstick is ruined. Eat properly."

You smart and touch your lips with your index finger. "You're evil. And it's lip gloss . Gloss. You're lucky it's not lipstick. Next time I'm gonna wear bright red and cover you in it and all your coworkers will know you spent your break bullying me."

"Bullying," he repeats.

You laugh loud and kiss the corner of his lips before shoving the shortbread into your mouth. "Bullying," you say, after a long pause of chewing. Your cheeks bulge like a chipmunk. He thinks you're insanely beautiful.

"I'll show you bullying," he says, clipping the lid back on his tupperware and handing it off to you. He checks the time and finds he's late going back.

Remus stands and dusts himself down in a hurry. "I gotta go." He kisses the crown of your head chastely and jogs back to the employee door. "Think about what I said!" he calls without looking back.

You think about what he said. You can't not . I'll show you bullying? You're agitated all afternoon waiting for him to come home, sitting in the rumpled sheets of his bed with your legs underneath you and the sundress all creased at the thighs.

Why would he say that? You've gone half crazy.

You push up the skirt of your dress and move your underwear to the side. Already, there's a small mess of wetness from thinking about Remus. You feel bad and also don't; you know it's alright to be turned on about your boyfriend - he's your boyfriend. That's one of many good parts about having Remus, he is ridiculously hot. But… he'll be home any minute now. If you just wait .

You push your fingers down your centre, over the bump of your clit and your labia to your entrance and then back up. You're better, though Remus is good, at finding your clit, that small bundle of nerves and you quickly find a rhythm you like, your eyes drifting closed as you try to picture him, recalling things that he's said. You're quickly annoyed by his absence and try to make up for it with your fingers.

The door creaks open, your heart jumps in your throat. You pull your skirt back down and tuck your hands under your thighs, sitting pretty the best way you can - not pretty at all.

The sound of Remus' bag hitting the floor. His shoes coming off, a groan as he stretches enough to make you flush all over.

"Y/N, where are you my love?"

You blink rapidly to yourself and don't answer. He finds you soon enough.

"What's up with you?" he asks, looking you up and down.

You're not very convincing. "Nothing. I- I missed you."

"Yeah?" he asks, climbing onto the bed in front of you, legs to his side. "You look tired." He wipes under your eye with his thumb.

You shake your head.

"Something else bothering you?" he asks.

Lots of things. His tousled hair, his collar peeking out from the open buttons of his polo, the freckles smattered sparingly but undeniable over his skin. His hands where they screw up the sheets and his patient eyes.

"You wound me up," you admit.

"Did I really?" he asks, sounding happy as a kid in a candy store.

"You said-" you start, voice rising quickly.

"I know what I said. I was teasing."

"You tease well."

He grins. "Yeah?" He raises a hand to your knee, drawing circles with his fingertips into your skin. You hear, suddenly, how quiet it is in his room, his entire flat. You'd forgotten to make something for dinner, you think, and then quickly forget when his fingertip climbs.

He flattens his palm over your thigh and rubs lightly, back and forth.

"Since my break?” he asks.

Your voice is weaker than you'd like. "For hours."

"You didn't…?"

"Remus," you chide, embarrassed.

His hand pushes further under your skirt, "Don't Remus me, baby, just tell me the truth."

"You interrupted me."

He looks sorry. Sitting up properly, he pushes at your arms until you lie down, head cushioned by his pillows. "Were you close?" he asks gently, pulling your calves from under your thighs, straightening your legs out over his lap.

You shake your head.

Big, sweeping lines up your legs. "You're so inpatient, you know?" he asks.

"You made me this way!"

"That's not true, you’ve always been inpatient. But I'll get you on record saying it, if that's okay?" he asks, hands rubbing and rubbing, pressure slowly increasing. "'Cos last time I wound you up, what was it you said…"

"I didn't-"

"Shhhh," your boyfriend says, spreading your legs slowly, hand coasting over your inner thigh. He squeezes the soft fat there, thumb pressing to the skin between your thigh and your cunt. "You said I was a teasing, cruel demon, if I remember."

"A lovable demon."

"Uh-huh, and what was after that?"

His eyes move to yours, maybe for permission. You nod, and his thumb slides lightly under the abused material of your underwear. He pauses, and you say, "A wretched-"

"A wretched bastard," he finishes, chuckling. "So if anything, you'd think I would've taught you to be patient."

You hold your breath as he pulls your underwear aside, his fingers quick to press against your sensitive cunt. They're cold enough to make you jump. "Sorry," he murmurs, pushing his palm up, thumb brushing over your clit. "You're always so ticklish."

"You have cold hands," you say.

Remus smiles and lifts one of your legs to meet his mouth as he leans down, kissing your thigh, a distraction as he collects leaking slick and eases the beginnings of two fingers into your entrance. He doesn't comment on how you're already wet though he looks at you knowingly, a small smile on his face.

"What were you thinking about?" he asks, wrists bent so he can focus on your aching clit. His fingers are tentative as he goes, though you're more than relaxed, curving against your walls.

"You," you whisper.

"Lucky me," he says. He moves his hand from you to rest atop your chest, always cautious as he catches your lips in a kiss.

You hold his face in place as you kiss up, gasping just slightly into his mouth as he continues his ministrations on your cunt.

He takes his time, cruelly, and you regret ever thinking that he's made you inpatient. He's drawing it out, thumb moving in tandem against the aflame nerves in your clit.

He murmurs as he goes. "You're making such a mess, dove," he says, fingers stretching down to rub up slick.

He's enjoying how wet you are. It's awful, your tummy shaken by abashed butterflies.

"My girl's always so messy, aren’t you?" he asks, lips parting over the corner of your mouth, a little lower, the hint of his teeth scratching your jaw.

You don't answer, cupping the back of his head as he sucks a small bruised moon into your skin. He licks it after he's done. "See, I make a mess, but I clean it up right after."

His fingers push against something soft inside you and you sigh, though you recover quickly to argue with him. "I'm not sure that's true, baby," you say quietly.

He lifts his head. "No?"

You shake your head, licking your lips and rubbing them together before you say, "I usually clean your mess up for you."

You don't mean to insinuate that he should clean up any of your mess, you're really just speaking from memory. You say it because you like cleaning up his mess. He finds it hot and you do too. His eyes narrow.

"Yes, you do," he agrees, something openly calculating on his face.

He pushes your head into the pillow and kisses the underside of your jaw lovingly, then your neck, moving slow enough that you don't realise he's travelling until he's kissing over your clothed chest, your tummy. He pushes your skirt up and you catch his arms, not stopping him so much as holding him.

He kisses the curve of your tummy. Where his hand had struggled during deep kisses it doubles down now, his long fingers working a small puddle of slick from you. He pulls out and pinches your clit lightly. "Let me take these off," he says, more to himself than you as he pulls your underwear from under your hips and down your legs.

He drops them somewhere in the bunches of his duvet.

"You're beautiful," he says, staring into your eyes. You melt, watching as his eyes travel down the length of your body. "The first time I saw you, I don't know if you remember it, but I couldn't believe how perfect you are." He lowers his voice. "Perfect everywhere," he says.

You giggle ferociously, a terrible wave of them that infects him quickly.

"I'm not kidding," he says.

"I know you're not. I'm far from perfect, Lupin."

"Perfect to me. With the prettiest cunt," he adds, kisses skipping over the very top of your cunt. He plasters your thighs in little pecks.

"Bet you say that to all your girls," you say.

Remus looks at you from under your lashes. "Only you," he says, practically drenched in fondness that makes you unbearably happy before his lips come down on your heat.

A shock. You squirm and he pushes down on your thighs, holding them flat to the bed as your whimpers begin.

You push the hair from his eyes and take a great handful when he kisses and licks your entrance. If you weren't lying down you might've needed to, a quiet roaring in your ears as Remus eats you out, sucking at your clit mercilessly.

You huff out a breath as a tension builds in your abdomen, a tightness in your trembling thighs. His hands move from atop to underneath, pulling your core closer to his face, devouring your wetness like a man possessed as he encourages your calves over his shoulders. Your thighs squeeze around his and you're so close you feel the tears building. His hair too far away to pull in this new position, you settle for grabbing at his hands.

"Remus, can I- I'm gonna-"

And like that, he stops.

You're surprised, hips bucking once towards him. He looks at you from between your thighs. His wet lips pull into a smirk.

"Bullying," you mumble.

"Yeah, bullying," he confirms. He's gentle as he pushes your legs off of his shoulders, hands massaging your shaking thighs. "You didn't think it was gonna be that easy, did you?"

You know if you asked him to, he'd make you cum, but he knows you well – you like to play the game.

"Wan' another kiss?" he asks.

You wipe his face with the back of your hand as he falls back on top of you, holding him an inch from your lips.

That pesky L word. You let yourself think it, let it infect your system rather than blurt it now. I love you, you think, eyes on his. His pupils are blown.

The kiss starts tentative despite an overfamiliarity, Remus hitting your nose with his until you open your mouth. He nips at your lips, takes the top one between his and suckles until it feels sore. He kisses it better, closed and slow but then impatient as he opens his mouth. You open yours, hands slack as his tongue pushes into yours and you taste yourself, sweet and salty.

He pushes his hips into yours, pelvis' grinding. His damp hands pull at the bottom of your face and his hips drive in, your wet ruining his trouser, a certain smoothness to the friction as fabric pushes into your exposed clit, never enough to reach your climax. You mewl, arms around his waist and dragging, begging for relief in the way your hips roll.

"You're making a huge mess of us," he says teasingly, dulcet, "after I just cleaned you up, too."

"Remus, please," you say, finally cracking, quicker than you wanted to, but his closeness has you desperate. "Can I cum? Will you…"

"You want my hands or my mouth?" he asks, pressing a wet kiss under your lip.

"Anything," you pant. "Anything."

"Don't worry. I've got you," he says, lifting his hips from yours to reach down.

He starts to toy with your clit, slippery, loose circles that grow tighter as he goes, laying sloven kisses over your face, your lips as your breathing accelerates. "Are you close?" he asks. "How's that?"

"Yeah, I'm, I'm close," you promise, squeezing his ribs tightly as the feeling builds.

"Take your time, lovely," is all he says.

He's back to kissing, bites and bruises all over your throat as you cum under his touches, only lifting up to encourage you, "There you go."

He stops touching but doesn't stop kissing as you come down. As soon as you collect yourself you're cuddling up to him, bashful and sweaty but very, very happy.

"Can we keep going?" you ask. You bite your lip. "I mean, we don't have to. I can take care of you-"

"You want me to fuck you?" he asks.

"Please."

"Don't say please. I should be saying please to you. I want you so badly," he says in a rush, climbing off of you.

You sit up and reach for the crumpled edge of your skirt, pulling it off and leaving yourself completely nude, breasts soft from being squished underneath his chest. You pinch at your nipples self-consciously and bring your palms flat to your chest, looking up to find Remus has stripped his shirt and is shirking out of his trousers and boxers at once.

You grin at his hard cock, feeling extremely obsessed with him in an awful, chest eating way.

"Don't look so," he gestures at your face, crawling towards you with his cock in his hand, "that . You know what you do to me."

"Don't know what you're talking about," you murmur.

Remus smiles, really smiles, more earnest than anyone should be. "You're so fucking pretty, I mean it. I know I'm a broken record, I know, but I can't believe you're my girl. Look at you," he says, hand pushing into your tummy.

You laugh nervously, "Don't push on me, I think I need to pee."

"You want to go now?" he asks.

You shake your head vehemently. "No, it's okay. Just don't push on my bladder."

He lines his cock up with your cunt and his hands work your thighs up, holding them an inch from your arse. "Is this okay?"

"That's good," you say, covering his hands with yours. "Remus-" you say, before he can push in. He stops and looks at you quizzically. "I can't believe you're mine, either."

He beams. He’s deitific.

Remus starts slowly, bending over you, eyes on yours as he pushes in, as he bottoms out. You feel the mushy pleasure of being stretched out by his generous endowment, the sparking pleasure as he reaches deep inside you, his hips rolling into yours rhythmically.

You're quickly close to tears, every thrust adding to a well of overwhelming pleasure that rises over you.

"Can you go faster?" you ask.

He grins. "I'll go however you want me to."

His hips snap, his breathing starts to hike. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs get pushed into your abdomen in the desperation of it, Remus rocking into you at an unforgiving pace. You're blissed out, reaching down to rub your clit as he anchors himself behind your shoulders.

"You gonna give me another one?" he asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Good girl," he says, and you burn. "Tell me how you want it."

He slows, thrusts deep and moulding, seated inside you he digs for your soft spot and something twinges in you, almost hurting. You ask him to do it again and he's more than happy to oblige, babbling praise at you as he fucks you so well you can't breathe properly.

"More," you say stupidly, close to a second. "More, Remus, please."

"I'm all out," he teases, though he knows what you're asking, hammering into you until your hips ache and the sound of his skin slapping into yours has echoed through the room.

He covers your hand with his when he feels you falter and pushes you over the edge, your second orgasm twice as potent as the first. You seize up completely around him, cunt contracting down, hand slipping. Remus pushes into your clit until you gasp.

"Wait a second," you say. He stops, pulling out, hand tugging at the reddened head of his cock.

You stretch underneath him and hold a hand to your overstimulated clit. Your thighs shake as you force pillows behind your head to change position, hips angled down. Your stomach aches, but Remus is close, you can tell.

You pull him forward and his cock spreads you open again, the feeling bringing with it a wave of goosebumps. Remus has barely filled you up before he pulls out, frowning at your expression.

"Remus-"

"It's hurting?" he asks. He rubs your waist. "It's okay, we don't have to. Did I get too rough?"

You look at the space above him rather than his face. "No. I mean. I mean, it is hurting a bit. S'like a pinch. But you didn't go too rough. Just aches when you get all the way in."

Remus' hands are stern on your legs. "Thanks for telling me," he says, mouth searching for your knee. He plants kisses around your kneecap in a circle.

You're frowning. "Remus, it's fine."

"I don't want to fuck you if it hurts, yeah? I don't want to do that to you. It's supposed to be fun all the way through, right?" he asks.

You go hot. "I'm sorry."

He sighs through a smile. "Baby, listen," he says, reaching for your hands. "It's fine. Perfectly fine. One hundred percent. Are you okay? Out of ten."

"Ten," you say firmly.

He looks relieved. "That's all that matters."

"You want me to…"

"Do you want to?" he asks, squinting at you. "I don't want a pity handjob."

You laugh at his joke, abrupt enough to choke on it, reaching for his shoulders to pull him down beside you. He turns obligingly onto his back and you're still laughing as you twist to hover over his chest.

"It's not from pity, idiot. You're still really fucking hot, you know."

"How hot?"

"Burning," you say, hand spreading over his chest, running down behind you to search blindly for his aching cock. You cup his neck and kiss him quickly on the lips before changing direction, attention on his cock, its weeping tip.

You lap at the wetness dripping down his shaft and kiss up.

Remus moans under his breath, thighs seizing as you mouth his cock. You pump the bottom of his shaft as you go, humming lightly into his tip. His hand moves over your back, hand cupping your arse as he takes a big handful, giving it a good squeeze which has you giggling before he pulls you towards him, fingers moving down your slit. He searches for your clit and it tingles under his light ministrations.

Every shock has you moaning into his cock, which in turn gets him going. He dissolves under your touches Your knees dig into the mattress springs as you centre your weight, hands braced on his pelvis as you take him into your mouth.

The poor boy doesn't last long, his moans a rare drug you're more than addicted to, ramping up as you suck his cock. He moans your name, his hand at the back of your head, and you pull back, palming his cock towards your open mouth so he can cum over your face. This is what finishes him off.

You milk every last drop of pearlescent cum you can and clean him off for good measure. He goes lax underneath you as you kiss his softening cock, pulling you away gently after a while.

"That's enough. You'll rile me up again."

"Oh no," you tease.

"Stop it," he says, faux stern. "You'll kill me."

"That would be a tragedy," you admit, resting the side of your head on his rising chest, arm squished underneath you. Your fingers feel for his heart.

His eyes close. You take the time to memorise his features, fascinated, only disturbing him to comb your fingers through his sweaty, dishevelled hair.

"Sorry about… not being able to finish."

"Dovey," he murmurs. His lips don't show it but his eyes frown a little as he pulls you into his chest, thumb wiping your face clean roughly but without any malintent. "Don't be sorry. We both had a good time, right? And it's not your fault at all. It's likely my fault."

"How?"

"We can be quite rough," he says, like he's amused that you have to ask.

"'We' is the right word. I ask for it that way and I like it."

His head tips back. "Trust me, I know." Then, with a huff, "So no more apologies. Please, dove. I don't mind that we had to stop. And you took very good care of me," he says, blinking at you. "Yeah? So it's all perfect as long as you're perfect. Are you?"

"I am," you agree, nodding. You're fine, though you need to pee, and the aching was unfortunate but not the end of the world.

"You admit it."

It takes you a few seconds to catch up. "Oh, shut up."

"No, you said it! 'I am'. I heard it."

"Stop," you say into his skin, wrapping your arms around his back. He hugs you close, and you cuddle until you can't bear the pressure in your bladder anymore.

You almost fall off of the bed in your hurry to use the bathroom. Remus joins you in the bathroom a few minutes later, finds you standing in front of the running shower, shivering.

"You're cold?" he asks.

"I'm naked."

"Me too, but I'm not cold."

"No need to rub it in," you say, pushing your hand under the spray. It's mostly warm.

You climb in and leave the curtain open, taller than Remus for once as you ask him, "Are you coming in?"

He really shouldn't. His shower is precariously small, and you have to stand tummy to tummy to fit. It ends up a mess; you're cold when you’re not under the spray and he's too tall to reach it when you are. Still, it's fun, and you love him and you laugh, and he pulls you into his chest for a hug under the hot spray, water sloughing over the two of you, reaching between your bodies like hot kisses.

"Still cold?" he asks.

"Nuh-uh," you hum.

His hands slide over the wet plane of your back. You cling to him, face pushed into his chest. You can feel as he drops his chin to his chest, pressing his nose into your wet hair. He cups the back of your head, holding you in place as he drops water heavy kisses into your ear, the shell, the lobe.

I love you, you mouth into his skin. It's almost as good as telling him aloud would be; you feel unstoppered.

Your legs get tired and you know he must be too. You give his chest a final reverent nestle and pull away to wash.

A little later you sit on the end of his stripped bed in his clothes, hair wet still, apologetic. "Sorry, Remus."

"We should really use a towel," he says, pulling a clean sheet from the cupboard with a grimace.

"Probably."

You take the top ends of the sheet into your hands and tuck the corners as Remus pulls the bottom corners down and lifts up the mattress to do the same. As soon as he's done you lay out on the fresh sheet, clean and tired. Only one thing left to do, you decide.

"Shall we order a takeaway?" you ask.

You scream as Remus throws himself onto the bed next to you, hand to your heart.

"You read my mind," he says, stealing your arm to pull into his chest. He looks so young when he smiles like that, you think. Mischievous. "Chinese food?"

"We need sustenance," you say agreeably. "Big day tomorrow."

The Grand Frog Palace opening is marked by the worst weather Britain has ever seen.

You stand at the patio doors with James, the rest of his friends behind you chattering in the kitchen, grazing the selection of party foods James and Lily had painstakingly prepared.

"It's okay," you say, patting your friend's arm consolingly.

"I wish I was dead."

"James!" You slap his arm. "Don't say that."

He slumps in the doorway. Rain attacks your bare arms and your socks, bouncing up from the floor and over the threshold.

You're dressed very casually, to James' horror. You and Remus seem to have missed the memo, or at least the general idea of one, that tonight is a black tie event. Everyone is dressed nicely. Remus is dressed well, though not in a button down and slacks, and you're dressed like Remus - jeans and a short sleeve t-shirt.

"Well, I guess it's over," he sighs morosely, loosening the tie from his neck.

"What?"

"Nobody wants to see the ribbon cutting ceremony. Lily said I can't force people to stand in the rain, so…"

"I will," you say. "Remus will too."

"What will I do?" The boy in question calls across the room, ears pricked by his name.

James turns to him with a huge grin. "You're a good friend, Moony."

Remus pales considerably. "Doesn't fill a man with confidence."

"For my son’s frogs," James declares ten minutes later, water dripping down his nose, fogged up glasses hiding his eyes, "and, by extension, my son, the light of my life, sorry Lils, who I would die for, sorry Lils again, I present the Grand Frog Palace. A labour of love, the Palace has been a great source of joy and misery." You look between the Palace, wet but amazing, intricate woodwork with soil and plants and a pool, housing what must be at least a few of his frogs, and Remus, who's looking at you. "We have sacrificed hours of hard work, Lily's sanity and at least 47 galleons. Sirius did nothing, Moony pretended to, Frank laughed at it, and Y/N caulked all the windows. Cheers!"

He ducks down to cut the small red ribbon with a pair of miniature scissors. It takes a while. The ends fall to the sodden floor, and you set about whooping as loudly as you can.

"Whooooo!" you shout, clapping aggressively. Remus pulls his hand away from where he'd been shielding your head to clap as well, Frank clapped his wrist because his hand was holding a bottle of beer and Sirius stared at everyone in amusement from under his umbrella.

James smiles. "Thanks, guys. I think maybe we'll save the tour for another day. I can't see."

You hurry back into the house, the last ones in, soaking wet and beaming with Remus' hand in yours. There'll be a spell to dry you off and a hot mug of tea to drink in a second, but for now – he looks gorgeous. Hair dark with rain and eyes darker under his rugged brows, his scars standing out like shiny Mercury, his lips and his pouty cupid's bow. You grab for his wet hair and pull his face to yours, kissing him quick and hard. His eyebrows furrow and he returns the kiss with vigour, hands buried in the collar of your shirt.

You set back down on your heels, worried about making a scene, but nobody's watching. There's laughter and wine and plates upon plates of party food, music drifting down the hallway.

His eyes open, rainwater running down his face like tears. "What's that for?"

You pull him in for another kiss. You don't understand why he would ever need to ask.

thank you for reading! i know it’s been a long time since the last baby fever so i hope this is good :3 sorry the formatting is a bit odd, i had to use the html option cos rich text kept crashing lol

tag club:

baby fever taglist @rosaliedepp @kissmeunicornbaobei @buckyjbarneswhore @j-cat @justingnoreme @siriuslystfu @figlia--della--luna @augusticana @confidentlycali @bella-vasquez216

marauders taglist @marimorena06 @glimmering-darling-dolly @siriuslystfu @thatblackravenclaw @touchdeprivedwh0re @vi0letblu3s @mooncalvin @gaysnowrose @thatonecomfyjumper @set-myself-on-fire @decafcoffew @mischiefmanagers @cordiformity @froggyy06

#remus lupin x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader

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adaptacy · 9 months

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Can I request a Leland x reader going on a date? I feel like he would like either star gazing dates or going to get milkshakes. Or anything else! Whatever gets the write juice going thank you!!

ugh yes absolutely im so happy im getting leland requests <333 keep 'em comin!

GN!Reader, completely SFW, just Leland bein a cutie hehe <3

"Can't believe you've never been here," the brunette laughed, picking up his pace for just a few steps, enough to cross in front of you and grab the handle of the glass double-doors, opening it for you. You shot him a smile, and he dipped an imaginary hat at you as you entered the building. Leland followed you in, placing a hand on the small of your back for just a moment before he quickly pulled it away, not wanting to be too forward.

The building you'd entered was practically a pastel and neon heaven; a quaint café, with checkered floors, a bar lined with white lights, and a dining floor with purple and the closest thing to neon blue chairs. You watched Leland as he stepped in front of you again, beckoning you over to the bar.

"Best damn milkshakes in town. Seriously, you've been missing out," he laughed, hopping onto one of the black barstools and giving it a spin before planting an elbow on the bar. "You have had a milkshake 'fore, right?"

You chuckled, sitting next to him and nodding. "Yes, of course I've had a milkshake before. I don't live under a rock," you teased, looking at the cow-spotted menu and scanning the options.

"Coulda fooled me. D'you have a favorite flavor?"

"Hmmm.. Strawberry's always nice. Pretty, too."

"Oh, yeah. Mine is cookies 'n cream. Especially when they give me the big chunks of Oreo- Really hits the spot." Leland raised a hand as the waitress behind the counter looked in your direction, and she gave the two of you a smile, trailing over with a small notepad in her hands.

"What can I get y'all?" She asked.

"Uh, a cookies and cream, and..." Leland looked over to you, not wanting to jump to assumptions. Maybe you wanted to switch it up this time around. He shouldn't assume that you'd get your favor-

"Strawberry, thank you," you requested, and the woman nodded, scribbling down your requests.

"I'll be right out with that."

Leland turned his head back to you, resting his temple against his fist. "Keeping it classic. Respect."

"...You ordered your favorite too?" You laughed, shaking your head, a little confused by his statement.

"Yeah. 'ts why I respect it," he chuckled, awkwardly, and then cleared his throat. He sat up, laying his arm flat on the counter. He seemed to be thinking of something to say, and you tried to help.

"So, why are these the best milkshakes? What makes them so special?" You asked.

Leland thought about it for a moment, scratching his neck. "Well, they're super sweet, and pretty flavorful. And, uh... Just really good, I guess. You'll get it when you try it, I promise. And if you don't, I'll cover it." He grinned, and then his smile dropped, and he shook his head, his cheeks growing a small tint of pink. "I mean, I'll pay either way, I just meant-"

"Leland, it's cool, I got it," you chuckled, finding his clear nervousness rather adorable. He wasn't usually like this- he gave off a rather confident vibe, but you also didn't know him super well. You were sorta surprised when he asked you out, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't somewhat interested in him. "Mind if I ask you a question?"

Leland let out a breath of relief, and he nodded. "Sure, go for it."

"What got you into wrestling? You don't seem like a wrestler," you asked, leaning your head on your palm. He smirked, and it was only for a split second before his gaze wandered off to the side and he thought of an answer. Still, that smirk was definitely ingrained in your memory. It was a strange expression on someone so innocent, so vibrant- you wondered what it meant.

"Honestly, always been more of a football guy myself, but I got recruited by the Captain, and originally I just meant to try it out, but I actually ended up liking it quite a bit. And the schedule conflicts with football, so I chose wrestling, ultimately," he explained, still looking off in the distance as if in a different world completely. His gaze then snapped back to you, and he grinned. "You in any sports?"

"No, not me. Interesting to watch them, though. That makes a lot of sense, actually. You seem like way more of a football guy than a wrestling guy. Not in a bad way, just in a-"

"In a jock way?" He laughed. "I get that a lot. I was, actually, in football, all throughout high-school. Was a linebacker," he bragged, showing off his teeth once more. His grin was adorable, in a goofy, playful kind of way. And he grinned a lot. He was just nice to be around. Inviting, gentle, maybe a little dumb, but he clearly meant well.

"Yeah, yeah, in a jock way. I'll be honest, when Connie told me about you, I kind of assumed you were some playboy ass, but clearly you're not," you hummed, and Leland looked as though he wasn't sure how to take that. But after a moment of processing, and smiled.

"Yeah? Mkay, what am I then?" He asked, his tone playful instead of hurt.

"Hmm..." You murmured, looking him up and down. He wore a white button-up with red flowers embroidered on the shoulders, and typical southern jeans, along with... what looked like cowboy boots. You looked back up at his face, and he narrowed his eyes, curious. "You're friendly, and outgoing, but not in a playboy way. A little awkward, if I'm honest, but not in a bad way. In a cute way," you complimented.

Leland's smile looked a little more genuine, and he scoffed, his slight blush returning. "What a sweetheart," he hummed out.

"What about me?" You asked.

Leland looked you over, taking in your outfit choice, and he took a little longer to think. "Hmm... Connie told me a bit about you, too, and I kind of assumed she was just throwing people my way because she could, but I actually think she saw something. Potential, yknow?"

"Potential?"

"Yeah, like- Well, you aren't in sports, but you said you like watching them. That's one point right there. And... you like milkshakes. That's two. And you're definitely confident, from what I can tell, but... hmm.."

"...Buuuut..?" You asked, leaning a little closer.

"I think you're just tryin' to impress me," he chuckled, his eyes shifting over to the waitress as she emerged from the kitchen once more and presented the two of you with milkshakes. Sitting at the top of his whipped cream was half an oreo, and he smirked again. "Hell yeah."

"You sure its not just your ego talking?" You asked, taking a sip of the milkshake. It was definitely rich, and Leland wasn't lying- it was really good. Genuinely probably the best milkshake you'd ever had. You took another sip.

"My ego? I, uh, I don't think so. I was mostly joking, I don't mean that-"

"I am," you confessed, finding the guilt that covered his eyes cute. He really was trying his best to be a gentleman, and you had to commend his efforts. He was doing fine, but maybe overthinking things a bit.

"You are?"

"Well, yeah. From what I've heard, you're pretty popular. Plus, athletic. And attractive. 'course I wanna impress you."

Leland nodded his head, taking a sip of his milkshake. "Well, you're doin' fine in that department. To be honest, I was a tad surprised that you took me up on this date. Figured you'd have a boyfriend already, or something. Glad I was wrong."

"Might have one by the end of the night," you teased, and Leland took a second to realize what you were implying, and then the smirk made a return. And then it spread into a smile again. You really wanted to know what that was about.

"Yeah? I wouldn't be completely opposed," he hummed. "How's the milkshake?"

"Even better than I was expecting. You were right, I think it's the best I've ever had," you complimented, drinking down the sugary delight.

"What? You didn't trust my taste? C'mon now, sweetheart. Surely I get more credit than that," he laughed, taking another sip of his milkshake, seeming to not even notice the nickname he'd slipped in.

But you definitely did. And you wished you could blame your blush on the strawberry milkshake. You cleared your throat, nodding. "Well, you have my trust now. Hard not to trust a man with good taste in milkshakes."

"I'm honored. Just glad I could show this place off. Real underrated, if you ask me."

"Seeing as how I'd never heard of it before, I have to agree. Surprised to find it's not some hole-in-the-wall bar."

"You think I'd take you out to a shithole on the first date? And for milkshakes?"

"Hey, acquired taste. I'm pleasantly surprised. Take it as a compliment," you laughed, nudging his arm with your elbow, and he smiled at you.

"If you say so, sweetheart," he hummed, a little more flirtatiously this time. Right. Of course he'd noticed the blush. Would've been hard not to.

"You're still paying."

"I know, I know. Can't go back on a promise."

#tcm game #tcm #leland mckinney #Leland mckinney x reader #Leland mckinney x reader fluff #Leland mckinney fluff #adapting to leland mckinney

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little-cereal-draws · 2 years

Text

"Laters Gators" (MKtober day two)

Voicemail 1 out of 42, May 2nd, 2024, 11:49 AM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum! It's me! I just got to the flat you're renting me and let me just say it's gorgeous! Super spacious and has a wonderful view of the street! Yeah, I'm looking at it now. All the people look so small."

Laugh, traffic noises in the background. The sound of a window closing, the traffic is quieter now.

"Anyway, Mum, I was just calling to say thank you so much again for letting me live here a while until I can get on my feet. As soon as I finish unpacking these boxes, I'm going to start job hunting. Yeah, might take a day or two for me to get through them all though, there's a lot."

Uncertainty, lying.

"Um, yeah. But anyway, hopefully I can find a job soon enough. I mean it's a big city, someone has to be hiring."

Laugh.

"Call me back when you can, I know the time difference makes it wonky. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 2 of 42, May 10th, 2024, 3:44 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum! Good news!"

Traffic, wind, definitely walking outside.

"I just got out of an interview with a school, and I think it went pretty well. I'm applying for a librarian position. Work with kids and teach them, y'know? I really think they liked me! They certainly seemed more interested in me than that bookstore. Hopefully they call me back soon! Anyway, I would love to hear how you've been, call me back when you can. And I'll let you know if I get the job. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 5 of 42, May 24th, 2024, 6:37 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum. I've been doing well."

Sad, tired, light sounds of clanking metal in the background.

"I'm cooking dinner right now. I'm still job hunting. It's been a bit tougher than I thought. I mean, I don't have any credentials or schooling for one. Also, I don't have any proof of my identity. It's a bit silly but since I don't have a driver's license or a passport or a social security card, I've started carrying around that postcard you sent me as proof. It's like 'Look, mate. I'm sitting right in front of you, that's my name and address on the card, and I exist, don't I? You can hire me!' but I understand why they can't do that. Criminals and all that. Stealing people's identities or whatever."

Slight laugh that ends in a long sigh.

"So, I'm working on getting an ID first and then I'll get back to job hunting. That postcard looks fun though, I've always wanted to go to Rome. Roma. Well, call me back and tell me how it went. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 15 of 42, July 1st, 2024, 6:18 PM

"Hi, Mum. I was just calling to let you know how the first day of my new job went! The one at the museum. I'm, um, a tour guide like I was telling you, yeah."

Uncertainty, lying.

"It went really, really well. I met so many new people and I think I really inspired them, y'know? My boss Donna is just a peach. She calls me Stevie. It's like an inside joke we have."

Tense, gritted teeth.

"We just get a long like peas in a pod. No problems there! Everyone is just so nice!"

Nervous laugh.

"Everything's going just great. I loved your postcard from Bejing. All the signs and lights. Looked really cool. I know you've always got loads of work and you're always traveling but call me back, please. I miss you."

A long pause. A throat being cleared.

"Um, right, yeah, ok. Anyway, I'm home now so I gotta go. Love you. Laters gators."

Voicemail 24 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:11 PM

Beep

"Hi, Mum. Sorry for calling so late, though I suppose it's not late there, I don't know. I had to stay late to do inventory. Again. Not as punishment, I just enjoy endless counting and scanning. It really gets me going."

Tired, so tired. The sound of a bag being dropped on the floor. A long pause.

"Ok, Mum, just tell me when you're free and I'll call you then. It doesn't matter if I'm at work, I'll just step into the toilet and call you there. You haven't returned a single one of my calls. You send postcards all the time, and I love those, but the messages -if there is one! - are always very short and terse."

Footsteps followed by the sound of papers rustling.

"'Hello from Caracas!' 'Sending love from Karachi!' This one says, 'Hello from Casablanca. Love Mom.' That's the longest message you ever wrote me! Please, Mum, I want to know how you're doing! I want to hear about your day! I want to hear your voice-"

Voice breaking, long pause, slight sniffling.

"Please, Mum. I- I miss you. I've- um, I've been having a really tough time actually. London's been hell. I don't have any money or friends and I hate my job; everyone bullies me there. I'm actually a stupid cashier in the gift shop not a tour guide like I told you."

Getting more choked up.

"I can't even have a peaceful homelife! I've got some sort of sleeping disorder and I keep waking up in weird places with horrible injuries. It's only a matter of time before I get arrested for trespassing or some other crime! I can't rest in the day, and I can't rest at night! I hate my life; I hate it so much!"

Sobbing.

"I am so lonely!! I don't- I don't-"

More sniffing and sobbing.

"Mummy, please... call me back... I need you..."

Sobbing.

Voicemail 25 of 42, August 24th, 2024, 8:47 PM

Beep

"Hiya, Mum."

Voice hoarse, uncertain, tired.

"So, um, about the message I just sent you. I was um, just... drunk. Yeah, that's it."

Uncertainty, lying.

"But I'm better now. I threw up and had some tea and potatoes. I, um, did that all really fast. So, um, sorry about that. Please disregard that last message, I don't know what I was going on about, I'm actually doing quite well."

Forced laugh.

"Anyway... I'll stop bothering you now. Let you get back to whatever you're doing. Love you. Laters gators."

#I swear I'll draw some of the prompts but i really wanted to write this one #it got so angsty lol #marvel #mcu #moon knight #moon knight 2022 #moon knight fic #steven grant #wendy spector #mktober2022 #moon knightober 2022 #my fics

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dangerouscommiesubversive · 2 years

Note

5 and maybe OT6 Gokaiger? Just let the polycule kiss ;-;

I do love a full-team smooch. ^_^ 5 is a Firm Kiss and this one got very silly. party games

"No, really, you couldn't have--not in every room in the ship."

"Every room."

"Even the engine room?"

"Just the once. We were having an issue with the climate control, it was warm in there." Marvelous grins. "My back did hurt afterward."

Ahim sets down her embroidery very suddenly and everyone looks over at her, startled. In Marvelous' case this leads to nearly overbalancing and falling off the couch, since he's lying with his feet propped on the wall and his head hanging off the seat.

She says, "I think we should have a party."

More staring. Doc says, slowly, "What, uh, what's the occasion?"

"The occasion," as she begins to fold up her work, very neatly, "is that we defeated Zangyack on Earth at least six months ago and since then we've barely been off the Galleon for anything but grocery shopping. I'm aware that traveling to the Zangyack home world is a lengthy and dangerous journey, and that the search for us is so rigorous and our bounties have increased to such a degree that extended shore leave isn't a good idea at the moment, but everyone requires some variance of routine."

There's some generalized nodding from the others as Marvelous' eyebrows rise toward the floor. "So you think we should have a party."

"Yes." She nods firmly. "With games."

Everyone is staring as Gai says, "I feel like I know this game."

"You may, it's very simple." Ahim is still focused on what she's doing, which is carefully balancing a large golden coin on its edge on the back of a chair. "You challenge someone, and all you're trying to do is knock the coin down before they manage it. Whoever manages it first gets a forfeit of their choice from the other, and then the loser makes the next challenge."

Marvelous grins, reaching for his hip. "That sounds easy enough, I'll just--"

"No weapons." Ahim's expression is just as serene as ever, but her tone is sharp. "That would be cheating. And you do have to be at least a meter away." She pauses, and then produces a piece of blue dressmaker's chalk from somewhere and marks a spot on the floor. "Here, I believe this should a good place from which to aim."

"Well, it's your game." Marvelous is, in fact, pouting a bit. "So why don't you go first? Challenge someone."

"If you like." She looks pleased at the suggestion. "I think I'll challenge...Joe. And as the challenger I will of course go second."

Joe nods, frowning faintly. "If you like, Ahim." He steps up to the mark, digs a smaller coin out of one of his pockets, and flips it. It sparkles in the air for a moment before landing flat on the back of his hand, and then he flicks his middle finger at it and sends it flying at the golden coin on the chair.

And misses by a hair.

"Damn." Joe squints at where his coin lies, on the floor well past the chair. "I was sure I had it. I guess that makes it your turn, Ahim?"

"Thank you very much."

She steps up to the mark and gives the coin a considering look, and then reaches up and very carefully slides a hairpin out of her bun. Joe's eyebrows shoot up. "Really?"

"I'm very good at this game." She smiles sweetly, pinching the hairpin in her fingertips as she takes aim. "On Famille, before Zangyack began attacking, I was considered quite a prodigy. Although of course the adults I played against had generally been drinking, so that may have biased their judgments of the situation." A pause, a shift in angle, and she throws her hairpin like a dart.

It strikes the coin squarely in the center, sending it clattering onto the seat of the chair as Luka lets out an impressed whistle. Doc stares. Joe, Gai, and Marvelous all clap as Joe says, "Damn, all right, you win. What'd you want for forfeit? I assume there's some kind of ca--"

The kiss she gives him would probably be best described as "solid." Certainly she has an iron grip on the collar of the shirt that he definitely stole from Marvelous; certainly their mouths are pressed together very firmly. When she pulls back, he just blinks, looking dumbfounded, as she says, sweetly, "Why, Mr. Joe, sir, didn't anyone ever teach you that it's rude to make impertinent assumptions about a lady's intentions?"

He blinks at her more.

She lets go of his collar and pats him gently on the cheek. "It's your challenge now."

"Um." A slow, dazed nod. "Right. Right." He goes and collects the coin he threw as she's resetting the large one on the back of the chair and putting her hairpin back in. "Gai. Challenge."

Gai nods. "Do you, uh, do you need a second to get your breath back--"

"I'm fine." Joe shakes himself. "I'm good. Besides, I. I challenged, you go first."

"Oh, right, yeah." A beat, and then Gai grins as he's pulling out a pen. "Do I get a kiss if I win?"

Joe flashes him a smile. "Beat me first and we'll see."

Gai's thrown pen goes wide. This time, however, Joe's flicked penny strikes true, causing the coin on the chair to let out a bell-like ringing sound as it falls. Luka frowns. "What kind of coin is that, anyway? I don't recognize it."

"It's a Famille fifty-crown piece." Ahim beams at her, going to reset the game. "One of my most precious possessions--oh my."

Having recovered from his shock, Joe has clearly decided to follow Ahim's lead, and then some. His arm is around Gai's waist; the kiss involves a dramatic dip that very nearly tips them both over until Marvelous gets a hand under Gai's back. When Gai's got his mouth back he says, weakly, "Right. Ok. So I get a kiss if I lose."

Joe shrugs. "I don't know, I considered making you polish my boots, but the kissing seemed more fun. Anyway," pulling him upright again with only a little help from Marvelous, "your turn to challenge someone."

Gai shakes himself and says, "Luka."

Luka snorts. "I will make you do my laundry if I win."

"Luka, I do your laundry already, Don and I do everyone's laundry."

"By hand."

"Well, I'll just have to win, then."

Another, more amused snort, and then Luka steps up to the mark, pulls a ring off her pinky, and hurls it point-blank at the coin as everyone holds their breath.

She misses.

"Fuck."

"Language," Ahim says absently, not actually seeming bothered.

"All right, my try now." Gai glances down at the pen in his hand and then tosses it overhand onto the table. "This didn't work last time, but I think I have something that will." He digs in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out something small and white.

Everyone blinks. Doc frowns. "Gai, we were supposed to give those back."

"I tried to, I went to Aba Red and asked if he wanted it." Gai hefts the Abare Killer key in his palm, gazing down at it as if it might tell him something. "But he said that he thought I should keep it. Since Dr. Nakadai gave it to me himself, sort of. I still have Time Fire too, Time Red couldn't even look at it, and Mr. Geki said he thought his brother would want the Dragon Ranger powers staying with someone who would use them more." A solemn pause, and then he tosses the Abare Killer key into the air, sending it flipping end over end and then catching it again and holding it like a dart. "Anyway, Abare Killer loved winning, so I figure this gives me a good chance."

He hurls the key and it strikes true, with a tk that somehow also manages to sound like a little self-satisfied, "Hm," and knocks the coin entirely off the chair and onto the floor.

Luka makes a faint, astonished noise, allows Gai to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth, and then grabs his scarf and kisses him with significantly more thoroughness. "If this is what we're all doing you should kiss me right."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Don't call me that. Doc, get over here."

Doc's hands are shaking so badly when he throws the loose button he's been fidgeting with that it goes very wide, bounces off the wall, and has to be caught by Joe before it can roll away entirely. Luka rolls her eyes, throws a ring from her other hand, and knocks the coin down with ease.

Doc sighs. "So, laundry by hand, then--mmph." And, a moment later, once Luka lets go of him, "Oh, ok."

"What?" Luka isn't quite smiling now. "I'm just playing along."

Marvelous says, "I'm starting to feel a little neglected--"

"Marvelous?" Doc's fidgeting with the button again. "Challenge."

"Oh. Good." Marvelous reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out his own Ranger Key. "Anyone want to bet I'll be the first person to win when it's not my challenge?"

"I'll take that bet." Ahim smiles up at him. "If you lose to Doc now you owe forfeit to everyone."

"Done." He nods to Doc. "In fact, I'm so sure I'll win that I'll let you go first, even though it's supposed to be me since you challenged me."

Doc's starting to look more relaxed, but at this he goes tense again. "All, all right, if you like." He steps up to the mark and throws the button.

It looks like it's going to bounce off the wall again, and it does--but this time it hits the coin on the way through, knocking it to the floor as Marvelous' jaw drops.

Doc, also looking shocked at his own success, says. "Um. So you owe everyone."

"Well, he owes you first." Joe sounds like he might start laughing. "Since it was against you."

It's a chaste kiss, really, Doc's never been big on public displays of affection, and Marvelous seems fine with that. Then, a turn, and a theatrical bow to the rest of the crew. "I owe a forfeit to you all, and obviously I'm going to pay up, but I have a question first."

Gai frowns. "What's your question?"

"Ahim."

Ahim is suddenly visibly tense. "Yes, Captain?"

"Where is it?"

There's a long pause as everyone turns to look at Ahim, and after a moment she starts to blush and produces the Magi Pink Ranger Key from one of her sleeves. "I will admit that I may have affected the outcomes of some throws slightly in order to prolong the game."

Doc gapes at her. "Ahim, where did you even get that?"

"I called Miss Houka personally. Navi helped."

Marvelous' eyes go wide, and he turns and shouts, "Bird! Did you help Ahim rig this whole thing?"

"Not a bird!" is the screech from steerage. "I just made a phone call! Did a little transit! Nothing suspicious! She's gotta give it back now!"

Everyone's still staring at Ahim, whose blush has spread to the tips of her ears. "She said, and I quote, 'get it, girl, hell yeah,' and then had to hang up because one of her boyfriends was calling."

Doc still looks like he's reeling. "Why, though?"

"We were in a rut. A lively party always cheers everyone up."

"...admittedly I am in a much better mood than I have been for the past few days."

She beams at him. "I'm very glad to hear it. And," to Marvelous, "don't think this renders our agreement invalid, you still owe forfeit."

Marvelous lets out a long sigh, looking not at all unhappy. "So are we sticking with kisses or should I start taking my clothes off? Wait, what are you whispering about?"

Luka glances up from the hastily-convened huddle and says, placidly, "Choice of music."

"I am not dancing for you."

"If you didn't want to then you shouldn't have made that bet with Ahim."

Marvelous sighs again, although at this point he can't even successfully pretend to be irritated. "Ok, fair. That's fair. I don't know why I ever bet against her anyway."

#captain marvelous #joe gibken #luka millfy #don dogoier #ahim de famille #ikari gai #fanfiction #anonamouse

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metalpunky · 6 months

Text

To Goliat, the best pet that the world had:

It's been a week, it's been a week since you left and it's been a week since I feel like someone has taken away a part from me, a really important one.

In this week I have been thinking about you and our life together. I remember as if it happened yesterday, when I saw you for the first time, it was you and your other four sisters, you were much bigger than them, probably the first to born, the first to open your eyes, the first to go out of the nest, and the first to steal my heart.

When you growed up, you came with me to my mother's flat, I remember how you used to run and hop arround me and how you layed in my feet while I was doing my homework, reading, drawing or doing any other thing, your excitement every day when I was coming back from school or when I layed on the floor so you could smell and lick my face as if you where a dog.

Unfortunately you needed more space, so I had to leave you in my father's farm, you were completely free, I remember you running and hopping in the garden, playing with the chikens, cats and other rabbits, it was the best life for you.

I missed you so much at first, but I went there at least twice a week to see you, and with the time I get used to it and beeing honest I stoped to go every week. Last week was one of those, I didn't went to my father's house because it's boring, don't get me wrong, I love going to the farm but sometimes I just want to rest and play videogames or meet with friends. It's been one week, and every fucking moment of this week I have been regretting with all my heart and soul not going there. I know I could not have said a proper goodbye, but maybe a "good night big boy, see you tomorrow".

You weren't ill or old, you just died, without a reason, I think that's the worse part, I had no time to realize what was going to happen. And I still don't, I cant believe it, I just can't, how in the world could I just accept that you are dead? That I'll never see you, or kiss you, or pet you... I just can't.

I've never believed in God or any type of afterlife, and I don't. But the only thing that helps me to sleep is thinking that you are hopping free in a big meadow with your sisters and with my chickens that had the same fate as you, or maybe to think that you are lying, not in body, but in soul, in my feet right now, as you used to do.

Goodbye Goliat, I know I will never be able to give you a proper goodbye, this letter is all I can do.

Descansa en paz, fuiste un gran compañero.

#tw vent

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unhingedselfships · 11 months

Text

She'd been playing nice all night.

It was exhausting but she didn't mind it.

She had her part to play, and if it helped at all, well, it didn't matter how the week had gone.

She had her role.

There was always someone though, wasn't there.

Pushing buttons, testing limits.

Someone always had something to say.

She was beautiful, there wasn't any denying that. Glossy hair, sultry eyes, the perfect body. Not too tall, not too short, impeccably dressed to draw attention without drawing too much attention.

Terribly artificial, but beautiful.

Kimi could recognize that.

She dreaded interacting with women like her.

It wasn't even the way she looked. It was her approach. The way she walked, the cruel edge to the smile.

Even when she could play it off, these interactions always hurt.

It started the same as it always did. The same trite small talk. Then current events. A passing comment about her family. That was usually where things went South.

"So, Lady Dojima, you seem terribly interested in Kadokura-san. For a married woman."

She fought the urge to sigh.

Tonight was supposed to be a good night.

Fun.

Take her mind off things.

"Of course. Kadokura and I have been close for years. He's very dear to me."

"Dear to you? My my, are you certain there isn't more to it? Is Dojima-sama aware of his wife's… straying?"

Had- had this woman missed out on all the accusations all these years? Or did she just suck at digging?

"My husband knows where I am and who I'm with. We do actually talk to each other, shockingly enough."

Ah. Her patience had run out.

"Hmm you just seem very invested for a woman who is unavailable. And not exactly… of the right caliber."

Kimi blinked. Oh. This angle.

She was so tired. It had been a rough few weeks and she was still so raw.

when wasn't she, honestly

So much had built up, with nowhere to go.

Good and bad.

Something in her gave.

Her tone stayed mild. Flippant even.

But her words-

"You think I don't know how unworthy of him I am? That I could never hope to be good enough? He's- Kenshi is-"

She shook her head with a laugh.

"I have nothing to give him. Any of them. I would, will, have, given him, them, everything and it's all- None of it is worth anything. I can't- Contribute in any way that matters. I know that. I fucking know it."

She was still so flat. Shut down. It was as though she'd slid right through hysteria and into numb.

She always let them get in her head.

she always got in her own head

"I have no value. No worth. I am nothing. I know my life, my being, is meaningless. Worthless. I don't need some full of herself, artificial, self inflated bitch to tell me that."

She smiled coldly, fingers brushing absently against the tattoo partially exposed by the plunging neckline. The self placed brand.

"At least I know my place in this world, instead of lying to myself and hoping someone else buys it."

The woman stared wide eyed, and Kimi averted her eyes to the man just behind her.

She tried not to think too hard about what his expression might mean.

"Hey, Kenshi? I think I should go home. I don't feel very well."

She slipped past him, trying to avoid looking at him directly, and made her way to the bathroom.

From the stall she shot a couple texts and waited for the tears to stop.

They wouldn't, but at least no one else was around to see it.

Kadokura first, she had to try to smooth things over.

KW : I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess of tonight. I'm just being dramatic. Put it out of your mind ok? I just. Don't really feel very good. Sorry. Love you.

And then Daigo. She needed to go. She needed out. Before she did anything stupid. Well. Stupider.

KW : Could you send someone to get me? I'm not. I'm not doing well.

DD : Of course, sweet girl. Are you alright?

KW : No. Not really. I will be. I'm just hurting right now. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'll get over it. It doesn't matter. I'll be fine. I love you.

She abandoned her heels on the floor, curled into a corner, pulling her legs up to her chest, and tried to remember how to breathe.

Gods why was she like this?

She was fine.

Everything had been fine damnit.

And suddenly she wasn't.

Choking on a sob, a self hating laugh, she spoke into the empty room.

"I'm always the fucking problem aren't I?"

"Frequently, yes, this time, no."

The voice startled her. She hadn't expected him to come for her.

She probably should have.

Her look of confusion as he stood there made him snort.

"You didn't lock the door. Idiot."

Crouching in front of her, elbow on knee, chin in palm, he eyed her lightly.

"You done now? Get that out of your system?"

"Just let me go home Kenshi, you hate my… episodes. They annoy you. I annoy you. I just- I wanna drink until I forget myself."

"Oh good," he said brightly, "I love drinking! Are you going to come back outside or am I going to have to keep delivering drinks to the women's washroom?"

She huffed, a tired laugh, “... if you’re willing to let me play barnacle the rest of the night, I’ll cancel my ride.”

“When have I ever not been ok with that, princess?”

He stood, and helped pull her properly to her feet. She moved to grab her shoes, and he waved her off.

“Leave them, I know your feet are hurting by now, and honestly, who gives a fuck.”

Snorting, she did as she was told, abandoning the heels to their fate.

Pulling her chats back up on her phone, she shot another text off, letting Daigo know she was staying after all, and yes, she would be fine. She just had a moment.

A quick, let me know if you change your mind again and I’ll get you out of there, and exchanged I love yous, and she slipped the phone back into the clutch she carried.

With a theatrical flourish, Kadokura presented his arm to her, and guided her out of the bathroom.

There was a spark in his eyes, that made her a bit nervous. That up-to-something look he got when he felt like being a shit disturber.

As promised however, he kept her close to him, her hand tucked into his elbow, and led her towards the bar.

Ordering himself something straight, and her something fruity, he switched his hold, his warm hand settled at the small of her back.

She avoided looking around too much, not wanting to see if anyone else was aware of what had occurred-

of course they were aware, every knows how pathetic yo-

He squeezed her hip lightly, pulling her out of her head, no other indication he knew what was happening.

Reintegrating into the conversation he'd left for her, he kept her pressed to his side, hand rubbing soothing circles on her waist.

This was more blatantly affectionate than she was used to from him. Especially in a setting like this. He was always soft with her, but there was a certain distance. Playful, but never too close.

This was outright clingy.

Touchy.

He shuffled her around as he worked the room.

Always with at least one hand on her.

Shoulders, hips. Wrists and waist.

Hair, throat, jaw.

Always touching. Caressing.

He was showing off.

He'd leaned to whisper conspiratorially in her ear. Little things to make her giggle, and he'd grin, that smug, self satisfied smile.

People were watching them.

Talking.

He didn't let her pay it any mind.

Kept her focus on him, even as his was everywhere at once.

The night wore on, and everyone had relaxed a bit. The uptight nature of business loosening into the conspiratory indulgence of the upper class.

Kenshi leaned casually against the bar, chatting pleasantly, Kimi tucked against his side, absently twirling her hair in his fingers.

Noticing the woman from earlier making her approach, a set look on her face, Kimi made to slip away, vanish again.

Hide.

Kenshi didn’t let her. His grip around her firmed, and he turned away from the man he was conversing with.

Turning to her fully, he gently cupped her face, and there was that look again.

One hand staying on her jaw, the other gripping her waist, and he was on her.

The kiss was- Not something she’d ever expected. Or let herself hope for.

Though she’d certainly dreamt of it.

Deep, passionate, far more skillful than she’d expected.

Absently she wondered who he’d practiced with.

Was he just that good?

And it was.

Very good.

Her heart stuttered, and he pulled away. Smug. Self satisfied.

This was gonna hurt later.

#yakkimi #kadokura kenshi #kadokura-verse #drabble #one shot

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cellphone2 · 1 year

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i miss you more than anything.

even if your psychotic and deranged ex girlfriend was lying to me about what you did to me that night i can't ever be your friend again as much as i wish i could and as much as it is absolutely killing me to not have you in my life.

the person i trusted with my whole life but you ended up being the one to tear it apart, my first real best friend who i loved more than anything.

this spring is going to break me seeing your stupid face on my snapchat memories nearly every day and i honestly want to die.

i doubt you even think of me anymore, at least not with anything other than so much hate for me believing her and for how toxic our friendship was but i just miss you and our stupid shitty nights out and in.

but then you're still the same person that was happy to leave me blackout drunk on the bathroom floor while you left for the club, the same person that dated my stalker and didn't care when i got spiked. the same person that thought i was more funny drunk and looked weird without fake tan. the same person that saw girls as sex toys and would've been more than happy to get off with a drunk me on my friends new sofa in her manchester flat. the same person tthat was my best friend and is probably the reason i now smoke so much.

i just miss you and i hate the fact i don't know what we got from that takeaway after nights out because you always ordered it in greek and now i'll never know what it was that made those gyros so fucking unreal after a night of dancing and drinking. every single day i think of you and every time i leave my flat i'm scared you might be around and come scream at me or worse if you were to see me on bold street. somehow you were absolutely everything to me and i was just a talking stage turned to best friend turned to stranger to someone you wouldn't even piss on if i was on fire.

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lixiektty · 2 years

Text

aftertaste

word count: 1.8k

warnings/kinks: dom!yeonjun, sub!reader, language, unprotected sex, rough floor sex (lol), creampie, praising, overstimulation, after care, if i missed anything please feel free to let me know!!

author's note: it's been a while, hiiiii sorry. i've been writing a lot though just haven't been posting, i'll start doing better i promise. (i say that then disappear for another three months)

tags: @cha0thicpisces @fluffyywoo

it all started as a bet, a simple one between two best friends at the start of the summer. both you and yeonjun agreed on having a sexual relationship, no feelings attached and by the time the summer was over— if either one of you caught feelings then you could further discuss a serious relationship.

you knock and the door swung open just second later, the tall blonde man stood handsomely in the doorway with the cutest little smirk plastered across his face. yeonjun pulls you in by your waist, closing the door behind you and pulling you into the deepest kiss, not a word being said but both of you making your way to his bedroom, your clothes already began being discarded into the hall on the way. once you made it into his room, you trip over eachother's feet and yeonjun falls flat to the ground, you falling and tumbling ontop of him. you guys share a laugh but continue on with your heated makeout session.

his pouty lips had their way of doing things to you you never thought they could, and it was such a turn on. yeonjun was soon stripped from his clothes but his underwear, as you were as well. he reached behind you to unclasp your bra, cupping your breasts with his large hands once they were set free.

"fuck— i missed you," yeonjun admits, kissing your jaw and your sweet spot on your neck.

he pulls you up a bit to begin sucking on your bud while his fingers toyed with the other, forcing soft moans to fall from your lips. the wet muscle swiped left and right, sucking harshly as well— fuck, he knew what he was doing.

"don't you think it's a litt— ah~" you start, "a little silly that we're fucking on the floor?"

yeonjun looked up at you and shrugs, licking your nipple one last time before responding, "we're already here, aren't we?" he chuckled.

he's right, you thought. your lips reach for his again, yeonjun working on setting you free from the lace decorating your lower half, "oh doll, did you wear these for me?"

"you wish," you tease.

your hands trail down his torso till they were at the band on his underwear, freeing him as well— he was quick to push inside you too. he wasn't lying when he said he missed you. the feeling of his long cock stretching out your walls was always something you enjoyed, something you could never get enough of. the feeling always felt so euphoric, especially when yeonjun began to get rough.

yeonjun snakes one arm around your waist, as a way of wanting to get you closer, the other moving up to your hair and pushing your head down to kiss him again. the minute he bottoms out, he doesn't waste a second and begins snapping his hips against your ass with a slow and deep pace. moans repeatedly slipped from you into yeonjun mouth, and man did he love it. the way you fell apart for him and him only. this was another thing he thought about, after the summer if you take this any further this could be an all the time thing and he wouldn't have to worry about you fucking around with anyone else.

"so pretty and wet for me, princess," yeonjun praises, "isn't that right, all for me huh?"

"a— all for you," you said breathlessly.

small groans of his own came from him, like he was trying to hold them in but you wanted more. you wanted to hear him. you wanted to hear how you made him feel.

"stop holding them in, i wanna hear you," you say.

yeonjun looks up at you in awe, thrusts becoming faster, "but i can't hear you over me."

you shake your head and kiss his cheek, "please."

yeonjun kisses you again and once he releases, the pretty manly groans left his body— for once, and it just added to the pleasure. it was so hot. the scene was so pornographic and messy, your wetness dripped down yeonjun's cock and to his balls making the nastiest sounds, almost as loud as the two sounds leaving your throats.

"shit," yeonjun threw his head back, hitting the ground. eyes glued shut. his hands move down to grab ahold of your hips. you decided it was time you take control, sitting up and resting your hands on his chest and moving your hips to match his thursts, "like that, just like that. such a dirty girl,"

his bottom lip was caught between his teeth watching the way you rode him so passionately. you couldn't help the sounds you made, not worried about anyone under, beside or above yeonjun's apartment hearing. his tip brushed against your g- spot at just the right angle, you continued riding in this position— orgasm already so close.

"you're tightening up around me, love. gonna cum?" he asked, he knew your body so well.

you nod, sucking in your bottom lip, nails digging into the skin of his chest. yeonjun takes the opportunity to hold your hips and fuck up into you, skin slapping against eachother hard. you moan uncontrollably and let him take control of you, "fuck, fuck, keep going," you plead.

"wasn't planning on stopping," yeonjun reassures.

he reached a place deep inside of you you didn't know he could ever reach and it set something off. heart beating at a rapid pace and now you were shaking uncontrollably ontop of him, tightening up around him even more, slick dripping from you more than before. yeonjun let out curses of his own along with yours, the feeling of you cumming adding to his pleasure.

"oh— fuck," you say once you come down, yeonjun stopping his thrusts so he can get the 'okay' if he can keep going or not.

"you can give me one more, can't you? just until i finish, baby." you nod in response and with that yeonjun flipped you two over, your back pressed flat onto the ground and he was now fucking into you relentlessly.

he pulls up your legs by your thighs, spreading them a bit wider and leaning down till your chest was pressed flush again his.

"s— so good," you whimper, feeling fucked dumb already so soon but that's what yeonjun was best at.

words couldn't really express how you felt. out of this world, sure. like you were floating, that too but right now it just felt like so much more than that. yeonjun was using your body like some sort of sex doll and it felt so good, he just never stopped. thrusts picking up their pace by the minute which just brought him closer and closer to his high.

"were made for me, no one can fuck you like i can. no one can make me cum like you can, yeah?"

"no one," you agreed, "you fuck me so good."

hearing those words come from you was all he needed to move at an impossibly faster pace that no human should be able to but yeonjun sure did that, setting the bar high that you bet no one could ever reach. your entire body felt fuzzy and you were no longer letting anything out, it was more of just deep breaths and tiny whines that yeonjun found so cute.

yeonjun shoved his thumb inside of your open mouth, forcing you to suck which you happily did, circling your tongue around it. he smirks devilishly at the action, he loved how naughty you could get, he loved how you could match his energy and he didn't even have to ask you to do so.

"good girl," he praises before kissing you again and looking deep into your eyes.

you tug lightly at the strands of his head, back arching just pushing you even closer against him. yeonjun watched you with wide, lust filled eyes, he could watch you like this for forever. just at the sight he felt himself twitch inside of you and soon painting your insides white, filling you up to the brim. the sensation alone pulled you towards your second orgasm of the night.

you both held each other tight, helping one another ride out your orgasms. your hips twitch, nonstop, never wanting him to stop. the overstimulation was killing you but it also just felt so good.

eventually yeonjun stops, catching his breath and watching your face as you lay there with closed eyes and weak limbs, "i'll clean you up and then i'll lay you down, you can stay here for the night."

yeonjun was so considerate and generous, taking care of you even after fucking your brains out. you open your eyes, looking at his face that looked like it was sculpted by gods. nodding, he slips out and carries you towards his bathroom, setting you in the tub and starting the water while he cleans up the mess the two of you made on the way to the room.

he laid out a shirt of his for you to wear, getting into some comfy clothes and coming back to the bathroom just to be met with you passed out in the bath. yeonjun snorts a little and walks towards you, rinsing your body a bit more before taking you out to dry you off and get you ready for the night. a soft kiss is placed to your temple the moment both of you are in bed, arms wrapped around you like he never wanted to let go— which he didn't he just was too afraid to admit it.

even if this was all he could get till the summer was over, he'd keep this moment with him for forever just like all the others. he'll always be reminded of the aftertaste from the love you made on the bedroom floor.

#txt #txt smut #txt imagines #tomorrow x together #tomorrow x together smut #tomorrow x together imagines #yeonjun smut #yeonjun imagines #choi yeonjun #choi yeonjun smut #kpop smut #kpop imagines #imagine #imagines #smut #hard hours

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greycaelum · 2 years

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Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo Satoru X Reader

(Kaleidoscope Series || Love Me Now, Love Me Never Chapters || )

[ Winter fluff and the case of missing cookies and cuddles and clingy Satoru ]

Chocolate Galore

"'Toru, have you seen the chocolates?"

You asked your beloved who is currently lounging on the sofa while you rummage the fridge.

"Uh, I ate it Babe!" He yelped.

...

You blinked for a moment and sighed in defeat. You planned to make him chocolate chips this Holidays but it seems you need to plan another treat for your man.

"Don't sulk, I'll share my daifuku with you," he whispered from your back and wrap his arms from behind nuzzling your neck making you squirm and glare at him.

He always do that to divert your attention!

Satoru stared at you with his twinkling blue puppy eyes and lean forward to award you a quick kiss and grinned victoriously seeing your cute frown melt to a cute pout, your hands clutching his shirt.

"I'll buy you tons of chocolate later, 'kay? But I need cuddles! It's so cold," he even shivered to emphasize his words.

Satoru swept you off your feet and skip to the sofa, throwing you on top and settle himself above you. Pressing his face between the valley of your bosom and sigh in delight, your legs tangled and arms wrapped around each other with the soft light passing through the spaces of the curtain blinds, a rare peaceful cozy afternoon of winter spent snuggling with your beloved.

"'Toru my chocolate." You reminded him as you thread your fingers on his silver locks, scratching his nape making him shudder.

"Later, promise," he purred.

II.

Lately Satoru is acting strange. Of course Satoru is already weird (in a cute way to your eyes of course) but these days he's acting like a creep always watching you on the corners of the hallway once you almost fell face forward stumbling from his jutting legs hiding underneath the table, Satoru is lying face flat like a slug on the floor trying to act nonchalant.

It was hard to resist the urge of kicking his flat ass...

"Did I feed you the wrong cough syrup?" You poke him while snuggling underneath the thick duvet, the movie playing on the TV is long forgotten as you two kept nuzzling and talking in whispers in your own world.

"Why'd you say that?" He look at you indignantly, leaning down to bite your earlobe.

You yelped, and pinch his muscular bicep in revenge.

"You're acting like a weirdo."

"Excuse me!" He gasp and shot you a dirty look.

"It's true! Seriously 'Toru you think I didn't notice you wearing my apron? And the chocolate you promised also disappeared again," your fingers poked his hard pectoral muscle with a pout.

"You wear my shirts too, and you ate my limited edition mochi, without me," he emphasized, pushing your shirt a little higher exposing your back. His hand found the low of your spine rubbing circles making you shiver.

"That's a different story," you evaded his eyes and slump back to his chest.

"I'm not weirdo," he added.

"Yes you are," you sighed and squirm from his soft touches.

"I'm not."

"Tell that to my ass," you scoffed.

"I'm really not a weirdo!" He made his point by spanking your bottom that you could swear he used curse energy in it.

You look at him unbelieving and muttered an unladylike curse under your breath while Satoru grinned that turned to his eyes widening and screamed like a banshee as you pinch his nipples.

"Babe~! I'm sorry! Ouchie! Sorry~" He whined, begging you to stop your onslaught.

III.

"Babe!" Your boyfriend called you.

"Hmmm? Wait a minute I'm getting off the train," the doors opened and you pass through the busy station.

"Can you come over for dinner?" He asked from the other line.

You stare at your watch, 8:48 in the morning and you still have meetings to attend.

"Of course, what do you want me to take out later?" You smiled hearing him cheer in the other line.

"No need, it's my treat just bring yourself, love ya!"

"Ok mister, love you lots," you whispered blushing madly at him gushing over your 'I love yous'.

"One more, one more!" He urged like a kid asking for sweets.

"I said, get yourself some scarf because it's cold," you chuckled hearing him complain about the wrong line.

"I'll see you later," you look at your workplace already in sight. "Bye, love you." You said softly with a smile as if Satoru could see it.

"Love you too Babe~" he chuckled and you ended the call. Satoru insist that you end the call because he could never do that to you.

The day passed uneventful, you even got an early clock out and went your way to Satoru's condominium. You rang the doorbell and press the password to the register.

"Welcome back, Milady."

"Eh?" You froze, blinking a couple of times at your beloved who bowed at you...

Satoru is wearing a white long sleeves and tie topped with waistcoat and black slacks, a short gloves covering his hands and he replaced his usual bandages with black glasses letting the white locks of his frame his face, you don't forget that you smell his expensive cologne which you absolutely love wafting around him. Satoru in his butler outfit looks absolutely like a hot walking piece of sculpture. His black uniform often hides his body built underneath unlike the suit clinging to his body with the waist coat.

You could admire the expanse of Satoru's broad shoulder, where you love leaving your claw marks while he hiss and pull you closer drowning you in all of what he could give, overwhelming you as you just kept accepting him. With his clothes clinging to his body you could outline Satoru's ramrod straight posture, a remarkable thing of his position and presence screaming of his stature no matter where he goes, the man who refuses to bow down to anyone, but little did they know it's the same man who would kneel down to tie your shoe lace.

"You look so beautiful 'Toru!" You gushed at him, flipping out your phone and started taking photos in different angles. He even stayed still for you offering a dazzling smile in every click of your phone. You step up to cup his face with a smile. "You're so cute 'Toru," you praised him more.

"I'm glad to make you happy Milady," he replied in a dulcet tone, closing his eyes and smiled like a gentleman.

"But Love, did I forgot something? Our anniversary isn't today," you look at him who insisted taking your bag, leading you inside.

"Do I need a reason to indulge you My Lady?" He emphasized the words and let you inside the dining room, he even pulled out the chair for you and left you to prepare the meal.

You racked your brain of any possible occasion to trigger this side of him but found none. You sighed, considering Satoru it must be something he wants to try out. You smiled hearing him announce dinner is ready.

You stare at the steak with chocolate sauce, chocolate beef stew stuffed potatoes, chocolate fondue with chocolate chips, he even set up a chocolate fountain, overflowing with your favorite flavor of chocolate the strawberries, kiwis and bananas on the side.

He really go all out just for this dinner with you... You look up to Satoru who stood beside and gestured the sweet dinner he prepared for you.

"Please feel free to eat up, this is the chocolate galore I prepared just for you Milady," Satoru bowed.

You smiled and thanked him, asking him to sit and join you when he didn't made any movement after you took your first bite, slicing the steak and tasting his cooking that exceed your expectations, it's not like the meals in the 5-star restaurants you'd go but it's one of the best you could ever have. For a man who doesn't make his own meals in daily basis, this is a 10/10.

"So this is where our chocolates have been going?" You asked him who's bathing his strawberry in the chocolate fountain.

"I used it for practice, do you like my winter gift?" He smirked.

"I love it very much, thank you 'Toru," you smiled. And Satoru smiled back. "'Toru your cheeks are red," you pointed out but he look at you confused and continued eating.

When you offered to clean the table Satoru beat you to it, determined to fulfill his role as your butler for tonight. You notice him looking a little more flushed, and the glass he's holding slip by Satoru's hold but you catch it just in time before it rolled off the table.

Worried of him, you stood up and cup his pink dusted cheeks, it finally dawned you. Satoru doesn't drink alcoholic drinks but the meal he made, they had liquor as ingredients.

"You're really a cute bean," you pinch the tip of his nose and chuckled at him peering at you with a frown comparable to a pouting feline.

"You probably didn't cook off the brandy and red wine enough in the fondue and stew," you rub his elbows and he look at you reluctantly. "Rest in the sofa, I'll handle this before I join you okay?" You coaxed him with a soft kiss to his pursed lips and brushing his rosy hot cheeks with your thumb.

Satoru meekly nodded and followed your instructions to lay in the sofa letting the intoxication running in his system run its course while you clean up the table and wash the dishes. You smiled at his effort. He's often out in his mission and missing lots of important celebrations with you is nothing new, but one thing about him is that, Satoru knows how to make sure he gets back. You wipe your hand and headed to the bathroom for a short bath. After blow-drying your hair you went back to the living room where he's laying with his arm covering his eyes already changed into his casual white sweatshirt and grey sweatpants.

"You smell so nice," you murmured sitting beside him. Satoru remove his arm and smiled at you pulling you down to land above him making you both fit in the cramped up space of the sofa.

"Sorry, I couldn't see it through the end," he said softly making you look up and bring your hand to caress his cheeks. "I wanted it to be perfect though," he sighed.

He did put quite an effort to it, it's not everyday and quite rare for him to get a day off and he choose to spend it to prepare this wonderful meal instead of resting.

"You're more than enough Satoru, thank you for doing this you made me so happy I never thought there would be a day I would see you welcome me home in a butler outfit, you look so handsome and beautiful," you smiled loving to shower him with praises and there are instances you would catch the tip of his ear red.

Satoru might be declared as the strongest but that's not the praise he needs or wants. Even a simple 'beautiful' and small but genuine praises that spills from your lips is enough to fill his heart with felicity and top out that 'strongest' title.

"You want me to dress up like a butler for you more?" Satoru asked with a mischievous smirk on his peachy lips as his hand found your head running his hand thoroughly to smooth your hair

You shake your head making him raise a brow. You smiled and leaned forward to give him a peck on the lips, deepening it a little before letting go.

"I don't want or need you to be my butler. Satoru being my Satoru is enough, don't ever forget that," you gaze at his deep iridescent blue eyes and giggle feeling how he dip his head to hide on your shoulders.

"Thank you Baby," he whispered nuzzling your neck and pressing a chaste kiss of adoration on your pulse point where he could feel your heart beating steadily and calming it sets his heart in ease...

[Grey rants: I noticed I've been posting quite a number of angst, lemme make it up to you guys. I went finding a deer with Nakamura-san (he finally made a YouTube Channel!!!) & Mogami-san when I wrote this to wish for Jujutsu Kaisen Movie's hit. ]

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more.

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned, image(s) and song(s) used belong to their respective owner(s).

Taglist: @ice-icebaby @gummy-dummy

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fics-n-stuff · 3 years

Text

Affluenza | Pt2

Pairing: JJ × Kook!Reader

Summary: Y/N celebrates her birthday with a party that she didn't want to throw and finds out a sad truth about the boy that's not quite her boyfriend, but being in each other's company makes things at least a little better.

Warnings: Mentions of abuse and descriptions of injury, reference to drugs

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: I'm so happy that so many people liked pt1!! It means the absolute world to me that people are reading and enjoying my work 🥰 Pt3 might take a little longer to get out, but I'll try to post it asap.

Taglist: @alotbnouf @fairypitou @305weasley @thecraziestcrayon @sofamochi @arvinrussellseggplant

Thanks for reading guys ❤

Pt1 here | Pt3 here

“Why didn’t you tell me it’s your birthday on Saturday!?” JJ exclaimed, letting go of your hand and sitting up from where you had both been lying on the deck of your boat.

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” You replied with a laugh. “I kinda just forgot to mention it.”

“But what if I wanted to buy you a present?”

“I don’t need a present from you JJ.” You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek and pulling him down for a kiss.

The two of you had been dating for a couple of months now, and although you very much considered yourselves to be together neither of you had said the words ‘boyfriend’ or ‘girlfriend’ yet. The time you spent together was private, you kept it a secret from everyone; you didn’t want your family to know and he was hesitant to tell his friends, exactly why you weren’t sure but you didn’t want to pry. It wasn’t as if you were sneaking around, you were just being careful.

“I have plenty things already, your company is enough.” You said, pulling away from the kiss and sitting up yourself. “But unfortunately I won’t be able to see you on my actual birthday. Mom’s making me throw a party and every teenager on Figure Eight will be there, so I doubt you’d want to come.”

“I wouldn’t be welcome even if I did want to.” JJ chuckled. You hummed in agreement.

“That’s why I wanted to celebrate today.” You chirped, getting up to retrieve a cooler that you had brought with you.

“What’s in there?”

“A special birthday picnic.”

“Oh, I see.” He grinned as you took your seat opposite him again. “And what does that consist of?”

“Well, let’s have a look.” You opened up the cooler and looked in at what you had packed with a smile. “Of course the standard picnic items; sandwiches, fruit, some baked sweets.” You listed as you took them out of the cooler. “And then, as I learned from my mother, a young lady cannot celebrate her birthday without a bottle of champagne.”

“Fancy.” JJ nodded, taking the bottle from you.

“Not as fancy as these.” You said, taking the glasses out. “Crystal champagne flutes. I snuck them out of the cabinet. We only use them for the most special of occasions and my mom loves them so we have to be careful.”

“I can be careful.” JJ poured the champagne, and you clinked your glasses with a smile. “Happy early birthday.”

“This is a much better celebration than my party will be.” You sighed, finishing your sip and setting your glass down. “I don’t understand why my mom insists that I have to have one, I’m not actually friends with anyone that’s coming.”

“But I thought you said every kid on Figure Eight was going? You’re not friends with anybody?”

“No, not really. They’re all just so fake, I can’t stand it. I genuinely don’t think that any of them are really friends with each other and they’re just constantly pretending, but I can’t be bothered to pretend.” You rolled your eyes and JJ laughed.

“Sounds exhausting.” He smiled.

“What are your friends like, J?” You asked, genuinely just curious. He told you a bit about them, stories of the crazy stuff they had done, but you never got in depth about it. You felt like it was probably because he wasn’t ready to integrate the two parts of his life.

“They’re good.” He nodded. “I mean, we’re basically family. They’re just not the biggest fans of Kooks.”

“Well, neither are you.” You giggled.

“You know what I mean. I think you’d like them, I’m just worried that they wouldn’t want to give you chance.”

“How much do you bet I could win them over just like I did you?”

“I wouldn’t love it if you won them over exactly the same way as me.” He smirked, gently taking hold of your chin and pulling you in for a kiss, which you both laughed into. “I'm gonna get you a birthday present. What if I come by on Saturday just for a minute to deliver it?”

“You know I’ll be happy to see you, but nobody else at the party will.”

“Eh, who cares.” He shrugged, and you grinned broadly.

“Okay, if you insist.” You conceded. “Now let’s eat this picnic that I so painstakingly curated.”

+ + +

Your birthday party was in full swing, the ground floor of your house teeming with teenagers. People were drinking, dancing and jumping in the pool and you weren’t enjoying any of it.

Your mother had gifted you a particularly ugly necklace that was basically just a tangle of gold chain, and Nicholas had openly bad mouthed your father for only getting you a few books, even though that’s what you had asked for. The detest that you felt for him was justified. Your dad was actually supposed to have arrived back on the island the day before, but it wasn’t unusual for him to get held up with work.

You pushed past a group of boys having some loud conversation on your way into the kitchen and poured yourself a strong drink. You threw the drink back in one gulp and slammed the plastic cup back down onto the countertop with a loud sigh.

“What’s wrong, birthday girl?” Topper asked over the music, his arm slung around Sarah’s shoulders as they came up beside you.

“I’m fine.” You shrugged.

“Did your dad get you a good present this year?” Sarah asked with a smile. “A new car maybe?”

“I already have a car.” You replied with a flat chuckle. “He got me some books that I asked for.”

“That’s kinda boring.” Topper commented. You rolled your eyes and Sarah smacked him in the side.

“I think that’s sweet. What kind if books?”

You told Sarah about the books you had gotten, actually kind if enjoying the conversation. Sarah was actually pretty easy to talk to, you felt like the fact that you weren’t putting on an act made her kind of drop hers, and it was a refreshing break from the way that the rest of the teens on Figure Eight were constantly pretending to be the perfect versions of themselves.

Your explanation of the premise of one of your books was interrupted when you felt your phone ringing in your pocket. You took it out and saw that it was your dad, and you smiled.

“I gotta take this.” You excused quickly before rushing outside to get away from the music. You answered the call excitedly, greeting your dad with a bright tone.

“Hey, Pumpkin, happy birthday!” He exclaimed. “I’m sorry I didn’t call this morning, I got caught up in meetings. You know how it is.”

“I know, dad. It’s okay, you’re calling now. Are you done with work? Do you think you’ll get here tonight?” You questioned eagerly. You heard him let out a sigh, and your smile fell.

“About that, sweetheart, I’ve had a few bumps in the road.” He began. You felt your heart sink and you were already scolding yourself for getting your hopes up before he could even tell you what the reason for missing your birthday was. “My meetings haven’t gone as well as I’d hoped and it looks like I’m going to be held up for a few more days.”

“Oh, right, okay.” You nodded, keeping your voice steady even as your eyes welled with tears. “Hope things get better then.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, I really did want to be there. I promise I’ll make it up to you when I get back; we can have a movie marathon night, completely your pick.” You let out a chuckle despite yourself. He might not be around much but he still knew you well, and movie marathon nights were one of your favourite things to do with him.

“Sounds great, dad. I can’t wait.”

“I hope you’ve had a good day, at least. What have you been getting up to?”

“I’m having a party, actually.” You replied. You didn’t need to tell him that you didn’t want to have the party and weren’t actually really enjoying it.

“Right now? I’ll let you get back to it then.” Your dad smiled down the phone. “Have fun.”

“Thanks, dad.”

“Love you, Pumpkin.”

“Love you too.”

You said your goodbyes and ended the call, and you tucked your phone back into the pocket of your shorts. You just stood there for a few moments, the loud music and whooping of partying teenagers emanating from the house, before tears began to fall. You shook with a silent sob and had to take a seat on the concrete of your driveway.

You sat there, with your legs pulled up to your chest and your head in your knees, for a few minutes. You sniffed, wiping your tears away on the back of your hand, when you heard a shuffle of footsteps and looked up quickly.

“JJ.” You acknowledged quickly, furiously wiping at your eyes as he walked up the driveway.

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asked, his voice edged with concern. You were ready to brush away his concerns, but as he got closer you saw the bruising on his face and suddenly you had some worries of your own.

“What happened to you?”

“I asked first.” JJ countered. You watched him as he came to sit down next to you, lifting your hand and softly placing it just below his purpled cheekbone, inspecting the fresh bruising around his eye and the split in his lip, then noticing the discolouration around his collarbone. He took the hand away gently, intertwining your fingers, and you saw that there was no bruising on his knuckles; these weren’t injuries earned in a fair fight. “Why are you crying?” He repeated.

“No, that doesn’t matter.” You shook your head. You weren’t trying to downplay your upset anymore, you just knew that whatever had happened to JJ was more important. “Who did this to you, JJ?”

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” He smiled, but there was no joy or amusement behind it. You hesitated for a moment before conceding.

“My dad missed my birthday again.” You told him. “The last time he actually made it home for my actual birthday was when I turned eleven, and yet somehow I still get my hopes up every year. I hate this party, there are at least three different types of club drugs being taken in my house right now, I’m sad. You’re turn.”

JJ sighed. He looked down at your joined hands, pausing to think for a moment before looking back up at you. He let out a short breath of soft laughter, lifting his free hand and smoothing his thumb over the crease that had formed on your brow.

“Promise not to freak out?” He asked.

“Okay.” You replied shakily. You could try to limit your reaction at least. “But you have to tell me the truth, J.”

“My dad hits me.” JJ said quickly, and you felt your lips part in shock. “I stay with John B most of the time, I try to stay out of his way when I’m home, but it’s not like I can avoid him completely.”

“Wha- Why don’t you tell somebody?” You stuttered. “Call the police or protective services or-?”

“I don’t want to.” He interrupted. “I’m happy here with my friends and if I get protective services involved then they’ll ship me off to the mainland. I can deal with my dad.”

“This doesn’t look like dealing.” You muttered softly, pushing the collar of his t-shirt to the side to get a better look at the bruise that it was partially covering. “When is this from?”

“Yesterday. I went home to get some money so I could buy you this.” JJ shifted to reach into his pocket and pulled out a small, flat box. “It’s not much but it’s all I could afford.”

You took the box from him curiously, unlinking your hand from his so that you could pull off the lid. Inside was a small silver necklace, a thin chain with a small circular pendant. When you lifted it up you saw that the pendant had a map of the world etched into it. The necklace was simple and sweet, and you felt a big smile take over your face.

“You didn’t have to get me this, J.” You simpered.

“I told you I wanted to.” He smiled back. You handed the box back to him and turned to face away, and JJ eagerly fastened the chain around your neck. He struggled a little with the tiny clasp, making you giggle. His hands ran over your shoulders before he dropped them, and you turned back to him with the smile gone from your face.

“You went through that just so you could buy this for me?” You murmured. JJ's smile faltered but didn’t fall, and he nodded slightly.

“It’s not your fault, Y/N. It’s just what happens.”

You sat silently for a little while, but your peaceful moment was interrupted by a loud round of cheering from inside. You looked over your shoulder towards the house with a groan, but then lightened up when you got an idea.

“You wanna get away from this bullshit?” You asked, gesturing towards the party.

“You wanna leave your own birthday party?” He asked with a chuckle. You shrugged.

“Nobody will notice that I’m gone. I’ll just have to come back at, like, midnight to kick everybody out.”

“Okay, then let’s go.” JJ smiled.

“Alright. Give me one minute.” You giggled, getting up quickly. “Just wait here a sec.”

You ran back into the house and pushed past all of the people to the stairs, heading up to your bedroom. You had kept the door locked to keep out horny couples. You rooted through one of your drawers until you found a set of keys, switched out of your party sandals to a pair of converse, and grabbed your car key off of your vanity before heading back out, making sure to lock your door behind you again.

You paused on the stairs to scan the crowd until you spotted Sarah, and pushed past the bodies towards her.

“Y/N! Where’d you go?” She shouted over the music.

“Just outside. I’m gonna disappear from the party for the bit, can you call me if something major happens?” You asked. Sarah frowned.

“But this is your birthday party.”

“I know it’s weird, but I’ve got some other stuff going on right now and I just need to get away for a bit.”

“Okay, I guess that makes sense. I’ll call you if anything happens.” She nodded, though the confusion was still clear on her face.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later.” You smiled, before heading back out.

JJ was stood at the side of the driveway waiting for you when you came back out, slamming the front door shut after yourself. You grabbed his hand and pulled him after you to your car with a smile.

“Where are we going?” He questioned as you started the engine and began backing out.

“My other house.” You answered.

“Sorry, did you say ‘other house’?”

“My dad’s house. He hasn’t been home in eight months and I haven’t been there in about five, but a cleaner comes by every two weeks to maintain it.” You explained.

“Jesus you’re rich.” JJ mumbled. He had a teasing smile on his face but the comment made you feel a little guilty.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to show off or anything. We don’t have to go to my dad’s if you don't want-"

“Y/N, it’s fine.” He laughed. “You didn’t choose to be born into a rich family the same way I didn’t choose to be born into a poor one.”

“I know, I just don’t want to be... insensitive isn’t the right word. I just don’t want to seem like I take it for granted; I don’t want you think that I’m that kind of person.”

“I don’t.” He assured you. “You don’t treat me like I’m any different for being poor, so I don’t care that you’re rich.”

It wasn’t long until you were pulling into the driveway of your dad’s house. It was grand and expensive looking, but it was still smaller than your mom’s; she had kept the house after the divorce and since your dad wasn’t even home most of the time he’d decided that he didn’t need quote so much space.

The inside was modestly decorated, no elaborate sculptures or outlandish wall decorations like so many of the other houses on Figure Eight. The furniture was very nice, and the few paintings and things that were on the walls were expensive, but your father was a man of simple taste. He didn’t even have any fancy chandeliers.

“I expected something more opulent for the richest man in the Outer Banks.” JJ commented as he looked around.

“Since when was opulent a word in your vocabulary?” You questioned with a giggle. JJ gasped, and pinched you in the side with a frown.

“I’m not completely dumb.” He objected.

You laughed, grabbing his hand and dragging him after you into the living room. You flicked on the light before dropping yourself onto the sofa and pulling JJ down with you.

“What kind of movies do you like?” You asked him as you picked up the remote and switched on the TV.

“Uh, I don’t know, action and horror.” He shrugged.

“What kind of horror? Slasher? Psychological? Paranormal?”

“I don’t know.” He chuckled. You gave an exaggerated sigh, going into the horror section on Netflix.

“Fine, I guess I’ll pick.”

You ended up putting on The Blair Witch Project after discovering that JJ had never seen it, and the two of you settled down. You were thankful to be away from the crowded mess of your birthday party and just have a quiet night with JJ.

“But I don’t understand how they managed to make it scary, basically nothing happened.” JJ perplexed after the movie ended.

“Yeah, that’s why it’s genius.” You grinned up at him. Throughout the course of the film you had ended up lying across the sofa with your head resting on his lap. “All of the horror is in the fact that you know that something this out there but you never see it. Modern horror movies could never.”

“That’s crazy bro.” He said, making you laugh. He looked down at you with an amused smile and a sparkle in his eye that made your heart jump.

“Do you wanna stay here for the night?” You offered once your laughter subsided. “I’m sure my dad has some stuff in his closet that you can sleep in.”

“Are you sure? I mean, don’t you have to go home?”

“Nah, my mom and Nicholas are staying at a hotel tonight so that I can have my party so they won’t know that I’m not there.” You shrugged. “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’d like to stay.” He smiled. You let out a relieved breath that you didn’t realise you’d been holding.

“Cool. I need to go and kick everyone out of my house but we can watch another movie when I get back if you want?”

“Sounds good to me. Do you want me to come with you?”

“Probably best if you don’t, you know, with the whole ‘every Kook on the island is there’ thing.” JJ laughed lightly at that.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He nodded. “Can I have a shower while you’re gone.”

“Sure.” You chuckled as you sat up. “You can use my en suite and I’ll get you something to change into.”

You took him upstairs, grabbing a t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts from one of your dad’s drawers before showing him into your room. It was plainly decorated like the rest of the house, but you had posters and photos tacked up and covering almost every inch of the walls.

“This is nice.” JJ smiled, looking around.

“Don’t go snooping around while I’m gone, a person’s bedroom is their kingdom.”

“I’ll mind my own business.” He agreed with a salute that made you grin.

“And make sure you dry off properly, I don’t want you dripping all over my nice carpet.”

“Jeeze, any more rules?”

“Uh, nope. I think that’s it.” You chirped. “I should be back in, like, half an hour. I’m pretty sure I left some chicken nuggets in the freezer last time I was here, you can have those if you get hungry. Or maybe I’ll get takeout on my way back?”

“Takeout sounds good.” JJ nodded, beaming, and pulled you in for a kiss before you left.

#outer banks #obx #obx fanfiction #jj maybank #jj outer banks #obx jj #obx2 #jj maybank x reader #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj maybank x kook!reader

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